Prologue: Bullies
It’s never a good sign when you walk up to a bunch of girls giggling their asses off in a huddle. It’s an even worse sign when one of them spots you approaching and warns the others, sending them in a fit of even more intense, albeit hushed, giggles.
“Oh!” said one of the girls. “Hiiiii, Shannon!” Her sing-song voice exaggerated a friendliness that was nowhere near genuine.
Oh god, now what? I thought. These girls had used me as a punching bag for the past three-and-a-half years. A familiar dread washed over me.
Simone, the leader of the wolfpack, took a step towards me and blocked my path. “Someone has been holding out on us,” she cooed. She raised a hand to brush my hair from the front of my face, causing me to flinch. The rest of her cohort had a great laugh at my expense for that.
I blushed, and tried to sidestep her. Just leave me alone! I wanted to shout in frustration. I knew, however, that this would just prolong the torture, so I just kept it to myself.
I hugged by arms tight tight against my chest. “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” I mumbled.
This just made the girls close in around me.”I don’t believe her,” one of the other girls said to another. “How could she not know?”
Simone’s eyes never left mine. The smile on her face was almost predatory. “Of course she knows, don’t you sweetie?” her voice was cloying with sarcastic friendliness. “Little Miss Rocket knows all about it.”
I frowned. “Rochet,” I corrected instinctively, instantly regretting it. Never let them see they’re getting to you. I expected Simone and her wanna-bes to come after me with another zippy insult, but instead her smile turned feral.
“Oh no it isn’t,” she hissed. “Now we know the truth.” On the last word she slammed a box against my chest. I barely caught the box with a free hand as Simone and her crew cackled wildly and abandoned me in the middle of the hallway trying not to drop everything on the floor.
The bell rang. Fuck! I was already late for class.
I finally managed to turn the box around so that I could see what it was. The experience was surreal, as if my brain was working in a jumbled order. I knew it was an old VHS tape, something I think my parents would have watched years ago, but with lots of tiny thumbnail pictures all over it. I turned it around so I could see the front cover, and nearly dropped all of my books anyway.
There, on the cover, sporting an early 1990s moussed hairstyle and a chestful of hair, was my father. Naked. Lying back on a couch with his legs spread, a censorship bar covered an implied enormous penis.
The over-the-top banner shouted that it was “too much cock for any one woman!” and “Deep Throat Contest!” In big, bold letters, unmistakeable as it was unmissable, was the top billing: “Rod Rocket and His Incredible Missile!”
I wanted to die.
I could feel my face flush hot and red with embarrassment, and wanted to drop the cassette in disgust. If I did that, though, someone else might find the tape and as it was I had no idea how to do damage control. I immediately tossed the video cassette into my backpack, and hustled off to class. There was no time to put it into my locker. If there had been a discrete trash can somewhere I would have tossed it, but there just wasn’t an opportunity to do so and not get caught.
“And where is… welcome to my class, Miss Rochet,” came the sarcastic drawl of the teacher. “I’m glad to see we aren’t hindering your busy schedule, too much?”
“Sorry, Mr. Rawlins,” I muttered, and slinked to my desk. All I wanted was to was hide in the back of the room and hope that the earth would open up and swallow me whole. Unfortunately for me, Mr. Rawlins liked to “encourage class participation,” so had the desks in the room arranged so that they faced each other in two rows on either side of space where he liked to walk. Just my luck, I had the misfortune of sitting right across from Simone. Of course.
I drew my hair down in front of my eyes and tried to pretend that if I didn’t look at her or her clique, they would just leave me alone. It was a stupid fantasy, of course, as all it did was put an even larger target on me. Mr. Rawlins drawled on about the reading assignments, but neither Simone nor myself were listening. One of her psycho bitch friends caught Simone’s attention, and made a gagging motion with her hand. Simone guffawed into her hand.
It was not a subtle gesture, and got Mr. Rawlins attention – just as it was designed to do.
“Yes, Simone?” Mr. Rawlins said, sighing. “Something to share with the class?”
“Well, Mr. Rawlins,” Simone said too-sweetly. “You know me, I don’t like to be a snitch.” She looked straight at me, the evil smirk on her face giving me all the warning I was going to get of the trouble I was in.
This got his attention, and sent the hairs on the hairs on the back of my neck standing on end.
“What is it now, Simone?” Mr. Rawlins said, but I could tell that he actually had more than a sliver of interest and curiosity in what she had to say.
“Well, I think that everyone has the right to their own, private…” she leaned in conspiratorially, and placed her hand to her mouth as if she were whispering a secret into his ear, instead of broadcasting to the whole class, “perversions. But they should at least keep them out of a public school, where there are minors present.” She swept her hand wide to the class at large to illustrate her point. In truth, we were all seniors about to graduate, but don’t let facts get in the way of good showmanship.
“Is there a particular point to this speech, Simone?” Mr. Rawlins asked. “Or do you just like hearing the sound of your own voice?”
The rest of the class laughed. I didn’t, afraid that I would just infuriate her and make her do something more rash than she was already about to do. Simone flushed, and I knew that my caution wasn’t going to help me at all.
“Shannon’s got a porno in her bag,” Simone blurted out. On cue, her minions all gasped in union, raising their hands to their gaping mouths in mock horror. Their choreography was so in sync it would have been humorous, if it weren’t just pure evil.
Why me? I pleaded to myself. Why do they always pick on me?
“We saw her showing it off in the hallway, didn’t we?” Simone looked around to her cohorts, who all nodded emphatically. “It was gross.”
All eyes turned to me. I blushed even harder and looked down at my desk.
Mr. Rawlins sighed, obviously not buying any of Simone’s theatrics. Nevertheless, she had put him in a very unfortunate position. By publicly announcing that I had pornography on campus, she had put him at risk. If he didn’t do anything about it there would be parent calls, maybe even journalists showing up. In this day and age, who knew?
Everyone in the room suddenly started talking excitingly. The boys had never paid much attention to me before – the skinny girl with no tits, why would they? – but suddenly I was feeling very uncomfortable with the looks they were giving me.
“That’s enough, everyone!” Mr. Rawlins snapped, and the fracas quieted down to watch what he would do next.
He came over to my desk, and looked down at me. “Shannon,” he said, frowning. “Let me see your bag.”
I looked up at him, and then reached down and lifted my bag to hand to him. He took a deep breath and closed his eyes, trying to prepare himself for what he would find. He opened up his eyes and the bag, and peered inside. Reaching in, he seemed to find something, and pulled it up far enough to look at it without taking it out of the bag.
“I’ve got to say,” he began, looking at me. I said nothing, and kept a neutral look on my face. “There are a lot of people who would prefer that you not have this in school.”
He turned and lifted the contents of the bag to the room. “But I don’t think this qualifies as ‘pornography’, Miss Tiller,” he said as he thrust my copy of The Catcher in the Rye into the air for everyone to see. “Granted, at one point in time it was banned for being pornographic, but I’m sure I’ve heard the same words come from your mouth once or twice, if I recall correctly.”
“What is that?” one of the boys asked.
“It’s a book, you moron!”
“What’s the battery life?” someone else chimed in.
“Ask Simone!”
The class laughed, but this time it was at Simone, not me. Even Mr. Rawlins couldn’t suppress a small giggle. Simone shot a look at me from across the room, and as hard as I tried I could not prevent the beginnings of a slight smirk touch the corner of my lips. She gripped the edges of her desk with her perfectly manicured nails, seething with rage and hatred.
“Now, let’s get back to the subject at hand,” Mr. Rawlins said, trying to get everybody back on track. “And Simone… see me after class.”
Simone snapped her head towards me again, her fury ratcheting up another notch. I began to wonder how far she could go before her head popped off her shoulders in a fit of steam, like some cartoon.
The rest of the class was torturous. Simone just stared at me the entire time. I couldn’t figure out where to look, and I shuffled uncomfortably in my seat – not least because the sharp edges of the VHS case was digging rudely into my ass.
When I’d entered the room, I fumbled with my books and bag. Being awkward came naturally, so jostling things in and out of my bag wasn’t out of the ordinary for me. I had managed to slip the cassette case onto the seat just as I had sat down when no one was looking, thinking that Simone might try some sort of stunt. I didn’t know what she would do, but I was pretty sure it would be something. Even so, if Mr. Rawlins had asked me to come up to his desk to give him the bag, I would have been busted as all hell.
I dodged that bullet, but now I had a bigger problem. Simone’s friends had started seeing what she was doing to me, and had fallen right into their creative mimicry. I spent the entire class withering beneath their coordinated stares, gestures, and thinly veiled threats. I wanted Mr. Rawlins to take notice what they were doing, but as usual he was lost in his own self-important droning.
As the close of the class approached, I felt my anxiety begin to rise. I had no idea what was going to happen after class. Simone was going to have to stay after, but the other girls didn’t. I didn’t have a clue what they were going to do, or try to do. It was the end of the school day, and I began to calculate how to escape from getting caught in one of their traps.
The natives started getting restless, and started making motions to collect their things. I did the same too, trying to time my move correctly. The chaos of class dismissal saved me, though, as a mob of people passed between us on their rush to get the hell out of school after the last period of the day.
In a sleight of hand that would make Houdini proud, I slid off the seat, bringing the porno in line with the opening of my book bag and zipped it up as fast as I could. I tried to blend into the crowd and get the hell out of there, but found myself face to face with Simone and her posse.
She opened her mouth to speak, and who knows what sarcastic bullying bullshit was about to come out, when Mr. Rawlins loud voice stopped her cold. “Simone! I said see me after class. Now!”
Simone gritted her teeth. “This isn’t over, Pocket Rocket,” she hissed. Two of her friends made blowjob gestures while the other two made gagging motions.
I just wanted to get the hell out of there. I didn’t even stop at my locker to get anything else, but rather headed straight for the parking lot. I just wanted to be home and away from school.
Once inside my car, I felt the tears starting to well up. I needed to hold it together long enough to at least get out of the parking lot, but it didn’t look like I was going to be successful about that. I couldn’t understand what it was that Simone had against me. True, she seemed to hate everyone, but why was I such an easy target? I had never done anything to her.
I just wanted to be left alone and make it through the remaining few months until graduation. I couldn’t even seem to “keep my nose clean,” as they say. It was almost as if Simone and her cronies woke up every morning with a list of “Who I should fuck with today.” It seemed that more and more often, my name was at the top of that list.
Chapter 1: Curiosity Killed The…
The next thing I knew, I was home and in my bedroom. I so desperately wanted not to care, to be wonderfully anti-social as Holden Caufield. I don’t know why the character spoke to me so much, or why I identified with him. Our personalities were exact opposites.
I wanted to lose myself, escape from my life, and it seemed like a good idea to spend with Holden. I grabbed my bag and reached for The Catcher in the Rye but instead pulled out the dreaded VHS tape.
This time I did recoil in horror, and dropped the tape onto my bed. My father’s sexiest expression stared back at me from the cover, and the long censorship bar zeroed my focus. I put the bag over the tape in a hurry.
Now, though, alone in my room, without the chaos of school, I wasn’t interested in Holden Caufield any longer. I began to stare at the bag, and through its canvas skin to the tape I knew lay beneath. Despite the circumstances that brought the tape to me, traumatic as they were, this was something that I needed to know about my father.
Years of “every other weekend” and the occasional summer vacation meant that much of my interactions with him had been carefully scripted and measured. Neither him nor my mother spoke about his life very much, especially not about any time before I was born. It was clear that this clue lying on my bed underneath my backpack was a big part of the reason why.
Slowly, and not really sure if I wanted to be doing it, I moved the backpack aside. Once more my father’s lewd pose presented itself. I picked up the case, and started looking at it more closely.
The first thing I was struck by was just how much he hadn’t changed. The man in the photograph was younger, sure, and my father had shown the tests of time like everyone else, but perhaps he fared them better than most. His blond hair was closer to grey, even if it had streaks of the original yellow color, and even though he rarely took off his shirt in my presence I figured he couldn’t have put on that much additional weight.
Thing is, as I looked at the man on the video cover and tried to compare him to the man I thought I knew, it wasn’t that hard to see them as the same person. They were both mysteries, curiosities. He never revealed much about himself to me, preferring to take the “chaperone” role than a real fatherly figure.
I’ve never really found much of a need to explore his background, and suddenly that felt like a tremendous oversight. On occasion I had wished to know more about him, and here was this opportunity… of sorts.
I picked up the case and turned it over. The pictures on the back were nearly too small to see anything at all, even as I tried to adjust my glasses on my nose to get the best focus. I could tell that there were a lot of people having sex, but I couldn’t tell which one was my father – if he was there at all. The little censorship stars and bars and circles covered up anything of interest.
This was getting frustrating. I couldn’t see anything! I opened the plastic case, but there was nothing inside but the videocassette with a plain white label with the words “Rod Rocket Deep Throat Challenge” written on it, with the caption “Copyright 1992” underneath.
At that moment, I knew I had to watch this tape. I threw the tape down and scrambled off the bed. I immediately went downstairs into the basement where we kept all the useless junk that collected over the years, but didn’t actually throw out. I must have spent a good 45 minutes rooting through that stuff until I found what I was looking for. It took me another ten minutes to get it out of there, but as soon as I did I tucked it under my arm and raced back to my bedroom as if I was Indiana Jones running from a tumbling ball of stone.
I got back to my room and plugged the ancient VCR into the wall, and then my TV. For once I was glad that my mother had a bit of a hoarding mentality. The blinking “12:00” came to life, and I popped the tape into the front mouth of the machine. For a moment I had a panic as a sickening grinding sound came out of the VCR, but soon it stopped and the tape began to start playing smoothly. It was at that moment that I realized just how disappointed I would be if it destroyed the tape.
The first thing that struck me was just how fuzzy everything seemed to be. I didn’t realize just how much I’d gotten used to high definition, and wondered if I’d actually be able to see anything at all on this old tape. Pretty soon, however, the screen seemed to stabilize and the cheesiest music I’d ever heard came through the TV speakers.
The porn clips started coming fast and furious with the names of various porn stars superimposed over quick clips of people fucking and sucking. All of them were women. “An all-star lineup of the most beautiful and talented women of porn!” intoned the female narrator in a sultry voice. “But who is the best cocksucker of them all?”
What followed were a variety of these porn stars taking big dicks in their hands and mouths, even a few bouncing up and down in reverse cowgirl.
“Which one of them,” continued the voiceover, “can take… Rod Rocket!?”
I paused the tape. Standing completely naked, one hand on a thrusted hip, was my father. The monstrous penis between his legs wasn’t censored now, and I couldn’t stop myself from exclaiming, “Holy shit!”
I had seen porn before (of course!). I mean, after all, in this day and age of instant access to any content you can imagine, who hasn’t? But this was soooo different! This wasn’t some porn star, this was someone I knew. This was my father!
He wasn’t even erect.
The video flickered as the tape paused, but the “important bits” remained steady on screen. I reached up to hit the “play” button, and found my fingers shaking.
The screen went black for a second, and I thought it had broke, but then it started to play again. A series of clips of porn stars who must have been famous at one point in time were shown in reaction shots as he revealed himself to them. Without exception, each woman reacted with shock, though their enthusiasm ranged from “No way, I’m out,” to unbridled, enthusiastic lust.
The video cut to a picture of a beautiful blonde woman holding a microphone, walking past a studio set and talking to the camera, with the obviously original-and-not-made-up name “Kandy Stripes” written underneath. She was explaining how we were going to see a competition unlike any other, where they were going to “put to bed” (wink, wink) the question as to who was the best cock sucker of all.
“Eleven girls, eleven-and-a-half inches of hard cock,” Kandy said, her eyes twinkling. “That’s right, we have more cock than girls. But who can take it all?”
She proceeded to explain the rules. Each girl was going to attempt to deep throat “the Rocket” and the woman who succeeded would claim the title of winner. “But don’t worry,” she said with a wink. “All the women will get a chance to ride the Rocket to new heights.”
She stopped in front of a bedroom set, with my father standing in a bathrobe, a stupid grin on his face.
“What about you, Rod?” she asked him. “Are you ready?”
My father turned away from the camera and opened up his robe to flash her, and her eyes narrowed to slits. She reached behind the cover of the robe, and purred, “Hmmmm… too bad I can’t compete. Bring in the first contestant!” she said to the camera. With that, she threw down the microphone and got to her knees in front of my father. He still held the robe open, but the angle wouldn’t show anything.
The view cut to a brunette coming into the set, but I started fast forwarding through what was apparently some sort of interview process. It quickly got to the point where my father stepped onto the set, still in his robe. By the time I hit the “play” button, he had already taken the robe off.
Once more I saw the largest penis I’d ever seen. To think that I’d known this man all my life, but not knownhow much I didn’t know about him. The girl’s eyes grew wide as saucers, and she looked hypnotized. She reached out to touch him, and began tugging on it as if she were milking a cow. Something told me that wasn’t the way most guys liked to be aroused, but this was a porno, so who knows?
Whether she did it, or he made it happen on its own, it started to rise. As impressive as it was flaccid, it expanded in girth as well as length. I found myself leaning forward towards the TV, mouth open in shock. I know they do strange things with camera angles in movies, but it didn’t look like there was going to be any way that monster was going to fit inside that little girl’s throat.
She must have thought the same thing. She leaned forward to kiss the tip, and lick it with her tongue, unable to hide the fear and hesitation in her expression. “Are you sure I can’t just fuck this thing instead?” she said, trying to pass it off as a joke. I’m not sure she even wanted to do that, either.
So much for being an actress, I thought.
The girl was no size queen, that is for sure. She opened up her mouth as wide as she could, and started working the massive shaft with her hands as she tried to get it inside. She licked around the head, and around the top of the shaft, trying to lubricate it as much as she could.
My father looked down at her with mild amusement. She struggled to get the head in, but the best she could do was barely get the head past her lips, and even that wasn’t always successful. She was getting frustrated, and it was showing on her face with every failed attempt. My father simply picked the girl up and turned her over onto her hands and knees, and started rubbing the cockhead against her pussy from behind.
The girl was skinny, much like me, and I started to find myself wondering what she was experiencing, being thrown around the bed like that, about to be penetrated by a foot-long iron bar of sex. I began to wonder if it would ever happen to me too.
I sat bolt upright, sudden self-awareness hitting me like a ton of bricks. What am I doing? I thought to myself. This was my father, about to – no, in the act of sliding his cock into some girl about my own age. Cognitively, intellectually, I knew that at the time he wasn’t much older, but… still!
Most people are disgusted by the thought of their parents having sex, much less actually watching any videos of the acts. Here I was, though, watching the video as if it were some sort of research project, like I was going to write a report on what I’d seen or something.
Oh yes, Mr. Rawlins. Today I’m doing a report on Rod Rocket Deep Throat Challenge. Generally speaking, I found the production values quite good in comparison with typical pornographic films of the time, as the lighting was spectacularly set to provide a high level of artistry to offset the rather poor acting capabilities…
“I need to turn this off,” I said out loud to no one in particular. Oh, who am I kidding? I was telling myself to turn it off.
As I reached for the VCR (I couldn’t find the damn remote), the camera swung around to show the girl’s face as she took my father into her body. My hand froze as I saw the look on her face. I had heard about people’s eyes rolling into the backs of their heads during extreme sexual intensity, but I’d never actually seen it before.
My father’s hands gripped onto her skinny hips and he began to slide his entire length in and out of her pussy. He was so long that you could even see some of his cock from the angle of the camera, which was primarily focused on the girl’s face.
She had already shown that she was a lousy actress, so what she was doing had to be real. She was in a completely different world, taken from this plane of existence and transported somewhere totally alien to her. Whatever she was feeling inside her was dominating all of her senses, causing her to forget where she was or what she was supposed to be doing.
She started grunting with each thrust, but each grunt started turning into moans of longer duration – until finally she was shouting herself hoarse. She screamed that she was coming, her eyes never once rolling back down to the normal position. Her body shook violently, her legs vibrating so fast it looked like she was being shaken like a can of spray paint.
My hand had lowered from the “stop” button during this time, and I found myself feeling something I had never felt before – pride. In all my life he had just been my dad, the guy I saw from time to time, who helped me with my homework (again, from time to time). There was never anything to be particularly proud of, however, nothing to make me want to brag about him to my friends.
Here, though, for the first time, I looked at this porn star that my father had fucked within an inch of her life, giving her what looked like the best sex she’d ever had. I can only assume that for a porn star, that’s really saying something. I wouldn’t have a clue if porn stars are hard to please or not, but for whatever reason I was not only impressed, but proud.
Spent, she collapsed onto her forearms. He withdrew from her body, and rolled her over onto her back. He lay his cock on top of her stomach, and for the first time I had a visual clue as to just how deep he could penetrate her.
Dear god, that thing must have well up in her rib cage!
Coming down off her post-coital bliss, she must have remembered that she was supposed to be a porn star, and grabbed his wet, slippery dick. She opened her mouth and began rubbing the head across her tongue, jacking him off with her hands. She might as well have been drying dishes, for all the enthusiasm she was putting into her movements.
I found myself growing angry at her. He had given her the best orgasm of her life, and here she was phoning it in!
You ungrateful bitch!
For some reason, I was protective of him, an alien feeling for me if ever there was one. Only a couple of hours ago I had been mortified, embarrassed beyond words, at the news that my father was a porn star. Here I was now, though, feeling inexplicably protective and angry on his behalf for the bitch who couldn’t be bothered to return the favor even in part.
I found myself rooting for him to defile her, degrade her. I wanted him to turn her over…
Spank her!
Fuck her again until he used her up. When it became obvious that wasn’t going to happen, I hoped he would miss her mouth entirely and paint her face instead.
Do it, I thought. Do it, do it, do it.
He did. I don’t know how he managed to come looking at her half-disinterested face – I know I couldn’t have – but that massive dick finally erupted. I’d seen come shots before, but this was truly impressive. It filled her mouth as she waited for him to finish, but the first shots were followed up by several, even more powerful ones that draped across her face in thick, ropey lines.
“Yes!” I cried out loud, nearly jumping off the bed and surprising myself by my reaction. She hated it, and I loved that she hated it.
I sat back down on the bed and my hand fell between my legs. My jeans were so soaked I wondered in a panicked moment if I had peed myself. I took off my jeans and my underwear, freeing myself for exploratory fingers that immediately found their mark.
Before, I had been sitting on the bed. Now, as the next scene unfolded, I was laying back on the bed, both hands digging at my crotch, trying to hold off on bringing myself to orgasm for one more scene. There was a complete change in my attitude now, something burning in me from that first bitch. I wanted to see my father treated right, and I didn’t want to come until that happened.
The tape played on, and the second girl to come on screen was a gorgeous redhead. This girl looked far more approachable than the previous girl, as if she could be the girl next door that the shy boys would have crushes on but never tell her. Her long hair was pulled back behind her ears, the picture of innocence and beauty. She was playful and coy, as if it were all a game. I liked her immediately; she looked like we could be friends in school.
When my father showed up, she pounced on him. The other girl never made any attempt to do anything close to interacting with my father – it was all business. This girl, who went by the simple name “Redd,” was the exact opposite. She started kissing my Daddy –
– father –
playfully, with little nips and licks on his face, He laughed, and I realized that was a sound that was truly rare in my own world. I suddenly struggled to remember the last time I heard my father laugh out loud.
As I watched her crawl all over him, even tickling him from time to time, I was torn with conflicting emotions. I was genuinely happy that this girl was treating him better than the last one, but at the same time I was wondering if I ever made him so carefree. Suddenly I wanted to hear him laugh in real life, and be the one to make him do it.
When she reached into his robe and pulled out his cock, the look on her face was unadulterated joy. She smiled up at him, and then leaned down to take him in her mouth. Unlike the first girl, she had no problem with his size… at first. She was able to get about half of his cock into her mouth, but the girth was posing a problem from going any further.
Even so, Redd looked as though she was enjoying every minute of it. She played with his balls with one hand as she sucked on the head, and then I watched her cheeks hollow as she started sucking him further into her throat until it rested naturally at the halfway point.
My father rested his hands on top of her head, and she began to bob up and down. I couldn’t tell if he was pushing her head down or if he was just holding on to her as she did the work, but both of them seemed to be enjoying themselves tremendously.
My fingers had started working their way into the folds of my own pussy, electric shocks causing my skinny thighs to shake every time I brushed my clit. I was dangerously close to coming but was desperately trying to hold it off for as long as possible.
Redd lifted her head off of my father’s cock and smiled her broad smile at him again. “Not yet,” she said.
Daddy – my father – smiled back and said, “Damn, you’re good.”
Redd started to crawl on top of him, and asked, “You like pie?”
“What kind of pie,” my father played along.
“Cream pie, of course,” she said, parting her pussy lips with his cockhead. She started to sink down onto him, slowly, and I watched as she took him into her body from above. Before I realized I was doing it, I was pushing my own fingers deep inside my hole, matching their pace to the best of my ability.
My fingers are nowhere near as long as my father’s cock, of course, so I bottomed out on my knuckles pretty quickly. Amazingly, Redd did too, as she seemed to only be able to take as much of him in her pussy as she could in her mouth. She rode him in short strokes, but even if he couldn’t bury himself inside of her it looked like she was doing exquisite things to him with her muscles.
The camera zoomed in on their union, and I watched in fascination as half of his cock emerged from her pussy wet as rain, and the other bottom half remained bone dry. Her ass muscles clenched and released in fine rhythm to her lifts and thrusts, and I could hear his grunts getting louder.
My own hand pounded inside me hard. If I had been able to close my fingers into a fist I would have been punching myself. I just needed to hold on a little longer, I wanted to come with them.
The camera cut back and forth between the angle between their legs and reaction shots of their faces. Redd started to cry out that she was coming, and my father kept his grunting in time with each thrust. Finally, he bellowed and the angle jumped back to his cock pulsing inside her pussy.
I watched in fascination as his cock jumped and pumped shot after shot of come into Redd’s pussy. The enormous shaft pulsed and flexed, and I could imagine his tip exploding with white juice inside her body. The sight sent me over the edge, and my own pussy clamped tight around my fingers, the free hand fluttering over my clit as I rode my own orgasm.
My heart was pounding in my chest, and I felt lightheaded. I needed oxygen, and it was difficult to inhale fast or deep enough. Redd lifted herself off of my father’s cock, which fell against his hard stomach. Small rivulets of white come began to appear at her gaping hole, and then drip down unceremoniously onto his pelvis.
“Shannon?” I heard my mom call from the kitchen.
Oh shit!
I scrambled off the bed in a panic, trying to turn the VCR off, the TV off, and find some clothes all at the same time. “Coming!” I shouted back at her.
“Just wanted to tell you I was home,” she called back.
I glanced at the clock. I had been absorbed in this little project for nearly two hours! I quickly disconnected the VCR from my TV and tossed the whole thing – tape still inside – into my closet and dumped dirty clothes on top of it. I pulled out a pair of yoga pants and threw them on before leaving my room.
“Hi sweetie, how – Shannon! Are you feeling all right?” my mother explained when she saw my condition. Sweat was still pouring down my face from over-exertion, and I don’t think my breathing was back to normal yet.
“Yeah, sure,” I stammered. “Just a little warm, I think.”
She placed the back of her hand on my forehead, and exclaimed, “Oh you’re running a fever! That’s it, you’re off to bed. No school for you tomorrow!”
I made a showing of looking as sickly as I could, and headed back to my room. I thought I had been busted, but instead I found myself with a bonus day of avoiding Simone and her hags. I wished I’d thought of this “masturbation sickness” trick ages ago!
Back in my room, the temptation was strong to attach the VCR again, but I knew my mother would be in to check on me periodically and it would be difficult to explain what I was doing with it. I’d have to wait until the following day to see what Girl #3 was going to do.
I lay down on the bed allowing myself to recuperate from earlier, but I outsmarted myself. I actually fell into a deep sleep. I woke up again around 2 a.m., after experiencing remarkably vivid dreams about my father’s porno. In the dreams I had been on the bed next to the brunette and Redd in each of their respective scenes. I was still angry with the brunette, and had yelled at her for not treating him right after he had given her such a great orgasm.
The brunette scoffed at me, and said with Simone’s voice, “Oh please, you’re just jealous because nobody would touch your skinny, no-tits ass with a twelve inch cock.”
“That’s not true!” I protested, but then realized that I was arguing the wrong point. “He’s my father!” I quickly amended.
The girl laughed, and then left.
“Don’t worry, sweetie,” I heard Redd say to me, and suddenly she was kneeling on the bed right next to me. “Some guys like your type, especially tiny perky nipples like yours.” She reached out and caressed my naked chest for emphasis. I looked down and saw that I was completely naked on the bed, just like she was.
“But do you think you could take this?” she asked me, and raised my father’s cock out of nowhere to her lips. “You can really feel it when it comes inside you.”
Suddenly she was on her back, and my father’s cock was halfway inside her pussy. I couldn’t really see him in the dream, everything was blurry except for the thick, veined penis pumping continuous shots of come into her.
She shuddered with every pulse of his cock, as if her body was refueling and orgasming at the same time. I felt a longing between my own legs, and she reached up and placed her fingers at my entrance. With gentle pressure in her hand I felt it start to invade me, my cunt pulling her hand inside. I began to feel stretched, and wanted to come again. She kept pushing into me, but I felt resistance as the width of her hand began pushing me to my limits.
I watched as she kept taking my father’s pulsing cock, throbbing and rippling time and time again. Kneeling as I was, I wanted to lie down so that I could orgasm in comfort, but that wouldn’t work with her angle of being underneath me. I was getting closer and closer.
“One day,” she said, smiling at me in that friendly, approachable way. “You’ll be able to take it all too.”
I woke up then, my own hand stuffed inside my cunt further than it had ever been. My hips convulsed forwards, driving me over the edge. I wanted to scream, but I was self-aware enough to know that would bring my mother running from her bedroom. I opened my mouth in a silent cry of joyous agony as I fucked myself with my whole hand. My legs clamped shut, my ass squeezing so tight I thought that I would break my wrist in seven different places.
Never in my short sexual life had I ever masturbated in my sleep, much less managed to get my entire hand inside me. I was stunned at the accomplishment as well as the intensity of my sexual need. Soon the glorious post-orgasmic bliss was replacing with an ever-increasing urgent awareness that my hand was cramping painfully. I withdrew it slowly from my body, seriously worried that I might damage myself if I tried to do it too fast.
I rolled over on my back, my other hand falling against my sensitive clit, trying to keep the high from falling too fast. My mind wandered back to the dream and I tried to look at it from a more detached perspective. I had not dreamt about fucking my dad, at least. I was just turned on by the sex, that’s all.
Yeah, that’s all.
As I lazily played with myself, I consoled myself that at least I hadn’t wanted to touch him in my dreams. That little consolation even made me tactfully ignore the highly lesbian overtones as I drifted back into a dreamless sleep.