After the Sleepover

Cock Rub

(Thanks to dmallord for editing assistance. All errors remain mine.)

*

The giggling of girls caused my first realization that I might be awake.

Well, young women, not girls, technically. All the women in my house had been over eighteen when I had gone to sleep. Since the time machine had not been invented, it was safe to assume they remained legally adults.

Shhh… be careful not to wake him,” someone whispered, generating a further gale of giggles.

The voice was so soft, almost silent, that I could not say who the speaker was. Were they the ringleader over whatever prank was about to occur, or a reluctant follower, afraid of being revealed if I opened my eyes?

‘Whose wet, a warm mouth is wrapped around my rapidly swelling cock?’

I wondered.

Still, I resisted the urge to open my eyes just yet. If I were dreaming, perhaps the erotic moment would pass without climax if I awoke. Worst case, I might embarrass one of Chloe’s friends while they engaged in some harmless fun and sexual exploration. That might scar their psyche for life.

Whoever it was, her tongue was teasing my pee slit, coaxing the first beads of precum to bubble up into the cool air of my bedroom. Dancing fingers rolled my balls and caressed my cock at the root. She bathed me with her lips, starting by circling the helmet, paying particular attention to the ridge where the bulb met the rod. She lowered her head, taking me fully, deep into her throat. Then she rose slowly, tongue and teeth teasing my tender flesh.

The giggling had stopped. If holding your breath made a sound, that was what replaced the youthful tittering. I imagined two pairs of eyes staring out of faces that remained featureless in my brain. My mind could not accept the reality of being assaulted by one of my daughter’s guests. I did not even consider the possibility that it might be Chloe gifting me joyful, expert oral sex, the best blowjob of my life. Contemplating that it could be Chloe watching intently was as shocking as I could handle.

I decided not to open my eyes just yet. Instead, I reached down and stroked some smooth hair. Still not a clue which girl was blowing me. She drew her mouth slowly up my cock, about a half inch at a time, pausing to wrap her tongue right around the shaft, like a python squeezing its prey. I felt my seed anxiously awaiting an opportunity to explode, but the girl kept a tight grip on the root of my cock. I could feel enough breaking past this dam so that she must be tasting me, but that was all.

My unknown attacker lowered her mouth over me repeatedly, my cock sliding effortlessly deep down her experienced throat. How could such a young woman give such a great blowjob?

In another wordless display of practiced talent, she released her grip on the base of my cock, and slid those fingers underneath my scrotum. And along my taint. One finger curled past my taint through my anal ring and stimulated my prostate. My hips jumped off the mattress.

I had exploded loudly before, and in my youth, I had produced some mighty quantities of cum, but none of them rivalled the load I spurted into that throat.

“Don’t be a greedy bitch. We want a share, too,” a voice instructed. My brain was too addled by hormones to recognize the speaker.

My eyes remained tightly shut as two or three more mouths sucked my bulb, each with their technique. One seemed to love inserting the tip of their tongue in my gaping slit. Another licked me like an ice cream cone. As the final contestant milked me so dry that she must have ended up with a mouthful of dust, Chloe whispered, “Go back to sleep, Daddy.”

So I knew that she had watched, but to this day, I do not know if she participated.

When I woke back up, the birds were singing outside my window. Only the mix of the scents of cheap beer and cheaper perfume confirmed that my visitors had not just been a dream. Though the abrasions along my cock, the near lip gloss, and the deep ache of my penis all combined as proof that not only had I not imagined the visitors, but I had experienced much more vigorous sex that could have occurred in my own hands alone.

The kitchen was sparkling and smelled of fresh coffee. I had done something right in raising Chloe. As I poured myself a cup, I heard the pitter-patter of post-adolescent feet on the stairs.

My cock had started to swell again as I thought about my morning, despite the recent intense draining. The sound of someone approaching completed its journey to an erection.

It was not Chloe who appeared. I instantly realized that I had mixed feelings about that, but I resolved to address that later. For now, a beautiful, scantily clad young woman was approaching — perhaps one whose breath already carried the scent of my seed.

As she bounded athletically, two stairs per step, down the stairs in front of me, I noticed that Olivia was wearing lingerie that barely covered her ass. With each action, the movement threatened to expose bare flesh. It was a dark fabric, which no doubt would be sheer in the right oğuzeli escort light, but from my vantage point, was opaque. Still, the sight of her well-toned young limbs made me throb. My excitement was doubled, indeed redoubled, as I imagined how perfectly those thighs must form into an ass.

Olivia was wearing a T-Shirt several sizes too small, no doubt something she had rescued from Chloe’s stockpile since my daughter was always reluctant to dispose of favourites, even if they no longer fit. The fabric was worn thin from years of wear. Olivia’s nipples were poking urgently, trying to pierce the well-worn cloth. Each breath threatened that her nipples would find enough room between the threads to pop loose and on display. My whole body shivered, from my shoulders into my spine to my groin, where my cock shook with desire.

“I thought you couldn’t sleep over because of cheerleader practice.” I finally said, amazed by my calmness.

Was it Olivia whose breath would smell the scent of my seed? I desperately needed to kiss her to find out. Unless she had brushed her teeth, would that confirm the truth if all the girls had time to smell spearmint?

“I am captain this year, so I say when we practice, and with our competition schedule, this was like my only chance….”

She paused, chewing her lower lip.

“…to enjoy a sleepover?” I suggested.

“If enjoying a sleepover means time with you, yes,” Olivia blushed.

I had stroked myself to sleep many nights imagining Olivia’s mouth sliding down my shaft, her teeth teasing the tender silky layer of outer flesh. Her fingers rolled my balls in their sac, her tongue licking me like a lollipop, then her head bobbing up and down as she deep-throated me. Having come not much before this, it took a while before my seed spurted up my shaft. Olivia swallowed every drop until she raised her head, looked me in the eye, licked a stray drop off her lower lip, and commented, “Not quite great gobs of goo, but pretty tasty, Mr. C.”

Chloe’s friends called me Mr. C., even though C was not the first letter of either of my names. It was a tribute to Howard Cunningham, the father on the old show Happy Days, which the girls used to watch in their youngster days, playfully debating whether All-American Richie or motorcycle rebel Fonzie was cuter. Usually, they want to marry Richie but have the Fonz as a boyfriend. The arguments ended safely before the girls were old enough to understand what it meant to date or marry. But the nickname stuck. Now that the girls were over eighteen, I tried to ignore the Happy Days fab fiction on Literotica, my favourite erotica site. Fortunately, the top-ranked tale focused on Mrs. C and Fonzie, a combination not an issue in my brain or my balls.

A wicked voice in my head asked me what I imagine you are wondering — was it Laverne or Shirley I had pictured while Olivia sucked me off? Well, I was always a Cindy Williams fan.

None of this felt even remotely like my earlier oral adventure, but it was close enough that I could not swear that someone other than Olivia had swallowed my earlier load. After all, Chloe’s mother had probably sucked me a thousand times, but it always felt fresh and different.

I was still curious about which young woman or women had enjoyed my seed, but what I most wanted to do with Olivia at that moment was what I liked most with any woman- to lick her all over, slowly focusing in on her cunt, which I imagined would be soaked by the time my tongue teased her slit open. Olivia’s thighs must already be drenched from the pungent waft of womanly musk rising to my nostrils.

My orgasms I had always considered it cheap and easy to achieve since I was proficient at swiftly surging semen solo. I had always considered bringing my partner to climax more work, but more important than my relief. No matter how I aged, my balls and cock still thought I had just discovered masturbation. As I just said, triggering my explosions of splodge was easy. Still, having an inventive partner showing exceptional skills was always fun. Perhaps even more fun when they were inappropriately young, barely legal like I had been when I had started up with Chloe’s mom.

After Olivia left, I poured a coffee with a splash of whiskey. Walking out through the sliding door toward the pool, I saw a young woman bent over a lounge chair. Her ass was thrust up to the sky, giving me an eyeful. A neon orange triangle of fabric stretched across her well-tanned and toned flesh but caught slightly as it curved under her body, suggesting that the front might be a string easily seen in the folds of her labia.

No one else was out by the pool so early in the morning, so I stood there sipping coffee and enjoying the view. My cock twitched in exhausted excitement, slowly refilling and stiffening as my daughter finished her fiddling and settled beside the deck. Her fingers were drifting down her belly, caressing it in a way I knew meant she must be wet.

I wanted to stop watching, to go back inside, oğuzeli escort bayan to keep alive the belief that my little girl was too innocent to be horny, despite knowing almost definitely that she had at least watched me getting a blow job last night and possibly had been the mouth wrapped around my cock, the throat I coated with great gobs of goo. But I did not move. I stood quietly and watched.

As I had guessed, the front of the suit was even skimpier than the back. Her clit was barely covered, with swollen labia exposed on either side. Her fingers grasped that string stuck in her labia and pulled it free. A fingernail caressed her clit before she let the fabric settle against it. I smelled the scent she had released. My cock pressed urgently against my pants, wanting to stand tall.

I knew I ought to be ashamed of even an automatic reaction to my progeny’s pulchritude, but Chloe spoke before I could sort those feelings out.

“Take it out,” she demanded. Her tongue wet her bottom lip.

I froze, speechless. My cock was chubby up to that point, but by now, it had started to throb to fullness. As she watched me, she must be able to see the bulge growing. My hand started to imitate hers, drifting down to stroke my groin.

“What, did you think I would ask if you made coffee enough for me, Daddy? I want to see how hard I made you without even trying.” Chloe giggled. “And you know I already saw it last night. So, sure, like, it is taboo and all, but we already smashed that vase into too many pieces to glue together. So we might as well enjoy ourselves.”

As she spoke, my feet were leading me in her direction a couple of steps faster than my brain could keep up. My free hand dropped to my zipper but lingered, still unsure.

Chloe’s eyes had drifted out of focus as she spoke, but I still had no clue whether she was describing something real or building a fantasy with me. Before last night, my daughter had, as far as I knew, never seen my cock in any state. I was uncertain just what she might have seen or done last night. Had she merely watched? Had she caressed whichever of her friends had gone down on me? Had she done more than touch? Did my sweet angel like going down on wet, barely legal cunts? Or to nibble a female nipple? Or, had it been her tender lips capturing me as her tongue teased my flesh?

My mind might be spinning with more questions than answers, but the primitive instincts for reproduction caged in my scrotum mew what my cock wanted and quickly robbed blood from my big brain to feed my erection. You might think that nature would have built in a stop-cock when it came to incest, but survival outweighed all else at a pure, fundamental level. Hormones never paused to think of the risks of inbreeding. They just wanted the cock in to get going with the breeding. The more seed sowed, the better the yield. If a litter contained a runt or two, there was no loss.

Chloe had never been the runt of any litter. She looked just like her mother, making my lust double and redoubled. I heard the button on my waistband pop open but dared not look down. My eyes were locked on Chloe, whose tongue wet her bottom lip.

“Take it out,” she breathed, “I want to see it.”

Somehow, from somewhere, parental sense roared back like an angel on my shoulder, with perhaps its last breath.

“You can’t always get what you want …” I singsonged in my best outrageous Jagger parody.

“But I NEED it, Daddy!” Chloe shouted. I flinched, hoping she did not wake up the neighbourhood. A couple of windows probably gave at least partial views of our pool. Chloe’s Mom had never gone for pool sex for that reason.

Now Chloe was begging me to risk exposing a more enormous taboo than sex alfresco. Suburban dads with Dad bods don’t show their daughters the flesh that sired them. Did they?

And just what exactly did she think she needed? To look at my cock, to check the effect her tight young body provoked? Or to kiss it, lick it, fuck it?

Whatever she was hoping for, she suddenly got an eyeful of my cock head as it peaked past the waistband of my briefs and was framed by the open waist of my shorts.

I felt myself blush. Chloe licked her lips again as I tried to buy time by sipping some coffee.

‘Relax,’ I thought in my most mindful meditation self-talk voice. “Just relax and count to eight and let the blood flow back to my brain.’

Before I reached ‘two,’ Chloe giggled.

“I bet you think you are not saying these things out loud.”

She paused and chuckled more deeply. I could not help but stare at her tanned six-pack rippling as her chest flexed. Her nipples hardened before my eyes, threatening to pierce the flimsy fabric restraining them.

I remained unable to take that irrevocable taboo step of exposing myself to my daughter. Instead, I silently stepped closer to her lounge chair. Chloe grinned excitedly.

“Oh, Daddy, you want me to prove how much I need it?”

Her eyes were dancing with excitement. Once again, escort oğuzeli her tongue darted out to wet her bottom lip. My cock swelled even fuller as I admitted to myself how badly I wanted to slide my bulb onto that slick red surface, to rest it there until she took the next fateful step and swallowed me whole.

The increased weight of my meat forced my zipper a half-inch lower. My whole head plus an inch of my rod was now exposed. Would that satisfy Chloe’s curiosity? I prayed that it would, still afraid of the consequences of taking this not-so-innocent show to the point of intimate contact.

Despite this, a shiver started in my shoulders and rushed down my spine, running through my balls and cock. A bubble of precum popped on my slit, leaving a shiny glint on my sensitive tip. Once more, Chloe licked her lips, but now she also leaned up towards me and my cock. Her pink tongue remained outside her pearly white little teeth, flicking from side to side.

At that moment, I felt like my cock, and I were separate entities – the big brain and the little brain. My big brain was anxious to let the primitive little brain take control. Then perhaps I could later deny responsibility, at least intellectually.

I had frozen again, waiting for my daughter to make the next move.

“I need it, Daddy.”

This time her plea was a whisper in a voice better suited to a young girl. That made my big brain ache. It wanted me to step back and laugh this off as silly fun while we still could. My big brain had zero interest in little girls. Young women taking the initiative was another story. My big brain could rationalize what happened earlier as not its idea. If Chloe went along and stopped now, I could label this incident similarly.

“Need to see it?”

I did not recognize my voice. Maybe because it came out as a growl grounded in my scrotum. It was not my voice, at least not from my nig brain. This was the voice, low and slow, of my primitive little brain, rooted in caveman instincts to deposit seed without regard for taboo because, in ancient times, those taboos did not exist.

“Need to touch it,” she sighed, reaching her hand up. “Need to stroke it, to feel it pulse in my fist.”

As long as I did not fuck my daughter, I decided I could satisfy her needs. So I did not object or withdraw as her palm and fingers gripped me. The sooner I came, the better. Then I could not fuck her, no matter the temptation.

Chloe stroked me from the root to the bottom of my cock head, then down again. She wriggled and giggled with ecstasy, her eyes shut.

Just as she opened them, another bubble of precum burst out of my slit. She giggled at the sight.

“I guess if that happens again, I better lick it clean,” she suggested. “Your cock obviously likes me. I was confused about how I felt watching Grace blow you last night. It was all so beautiful — her face, her mouth, your cock, seeing your come surging up your shaft. Watching her throat as she swallowed it. And she teased us by opening her mouth and showing how her tongue was coated, and strands connected the roof of her mouth to her teeth.”

“Did you…”

“Kiss Grace and taste your spunk? I was conflicted, but Olivia solved the problem by getting there first.”

“Did you..”

“Kiss Olivia? Sure, of course, but she tasted like Grace, with no hint of your seed left for me.”

Of course. Chloe said ‘of course’ like kissing her best friend was the most natural thing in the world. My daughter was more complex than I had ever suspected. And how did she know what Grace tasted like? The devil within me wondered if she had tasted more than the mouths of her friends.

“Grace always wears cherry flavoured lip gloss. It tastes yummy,” Chloe seemed as if she could read my mind.

“Shall I ask her to kiss you a taste, Daddy?” she giggled. Her warm breath bathed my shaft.

‘I would rather watch you kissing her,’ the devil wanted me to say, but I was not that far gone. The feeling of self-restraint ironically made my cock bobble inches from my daughter’s lips. Restraint might make me fear the intimacy of kissing, but oddly, I had no qualms about letting her lick my cock, taste it, suck it, and even swallow my cum. As long as I did not fuck her.

‘But what about tasting her?’ the devil asked. ‘Turnabout is fair play, and if she can give you oral, why can’t you eat her pussy and return the favour?’

That sneaky devil- give him an inch, and he shoves the door wide open. It was all my fault for admiring how sexy Chloe had looked in her bikini. Once again, the devil won, but the deal was that whatever happened, it had to be her idea, and I was not going to fuck her.

“I would probably enjoy that,” my inner devil snickered as his thoughts used my voice, “But first, I do want you to lick my cock.”

Chloe giggled joyously. “When I saw you watching me, I knew that you would not be able to resist temptation.”

It seemed that there was a devil inside my daughter too.

A few hours before, I would have told you she was an innocent angel, shy and hesitant about sex. Now she was offering to lave my meat, even though it dripped not only with my seed but was coated with Olivia’s saliva. Would she recognize that taste? I did not believe she knew Grace’s taste because of lip gloss. If she had kissed one of her friends, she must have completed the triangle.

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