Usually when my father brought me home, he simply dropped me off. This time, however, he got out of the car and escorted me to the front door. I was surprised, but said nothing. I just enjoyed being able to spend some extra few moments with him.
I opened the door, and stepped in. My mother entered the living room in front of us, carrying her purse and dressed to go out.
“Shannon?” my mother said, entering the living room. “Everything ok? I wasn’t expecting you until -”
She stopped short after she saw my father, and her initial reaction turned more professional.
Stiffening, but remaining polite, she said, “Hello, Rod.”
“Hello, Michelle,” my father replied. “May I come in?”
My mother cocked her head to the side, took a deep breath, and nodded. He entered and closed the door behind him.
Turning to me, he said, “Shannon, why don’t you go unpack. I have some things I need to talk with your mother about. I won’t leave without saying goodbye, I promise.”
I wasn’t sure what was going on, because my parents rarely spoke in confidence. Nevertheless, I appreciated the opportunity to unpack my “things” in my room without fear of my mother coming in to ask me how my weekend went and finding a shocking discovery.
Inside my room, I began to unpack and search for a place to hide my new silicone lover. As my eyes swept across possible hiding spots, I nearly gasped out loud as I saw the VCR. Like an incriminating smoking gun, the readout on the screen wasn’t flashing 12:00, but rather -00:15.
That’s a strange number, I thought. What -?
My stomach leapt into my throat as I realized that I had left the tape in the VCR!
My mother, the snoop, could have easily come into my room and seen the VCR and played it. I wracked my brains trying to remember what the time code was before I left. That felt like it wasn’t the right time, but could she have watched any of it?
Nothing in the room seemed disturbed. My bed was still unmade, the remote was still where I had left it. Maybe she hadn’t had enough time, or maybe she had decided not to be “helpful.” After all, I’d only been gone for a little over a day.
That thought gave me another jolt. One day. In one day, twenty-four hours, my entire world had changed. I had been a voyeur, lost my virginity – to a woman, no less – and masturbated to my father’s substitute cock… twice.
The room looked the same, and yet different. It felt like I was coming back to it after months of being away, not hours.
“What!?” I heard my mother’s voice, shaking me back to the present. I was about to rush out of the room when I realized I was holding the dildo. I opened one of the lower drawers in my dresser and shoved it inside, and entered the hallway to peer out at my parents behind a corner.
My father was talking in hushed tones, trying to get my mother to calm herself, but it wasn’t working.
“How could you?” she seethed. Her beautiful face was contorted in anguish and fear.
His voice was tense and insistent, but barely above a whisper. “I had no idea!” he protested, his hands up in a placating gesture. I couldn’t understand what he said after that, but it looked like he had even more bad news.
My mother began pacing. “If she -” she said, and then my father shushed her, and her voice dropped below audible levels.
The remainder of their conversation was impossible to hear, but it was obvious that whatever it was, was very important. I tried my luck a little more, hoping to catch more of the conversation, but they had learned their lesson and were no longer audible.
I snuck back to my room, and closed the door behind me. With my parents preoccupied, I had the ability to try to sort out my illicit materials. I looked at the VCR and argued with myself about whether or not to sleuth the mystery there. The debate lasted only a few seconds; I decided to risk getting caught, just in order to get peace of mind. I had to know.
I turned on the TV, muted the volume, and picked up the remote and hit play. The VCR clicked and whirred, and then finally a flickered image flashed upon the screen and stabilized. To my horror, the video wasn’t in the same place as when I had left it. Instead, I was treated to a black screen of nothingness.
“Shanny,” my mother said, opening the door.
I squeaked, and jumped. In my fright, I hit the “pause” button and the screen semi-froze in a zig-zag, shaking still of the video. By some grace and sheer, dumb luck, the video was locked on the pre-content leader and there was no actual porn being shown.
My mother stopped mid-sentence, glanced at the screen, and then looked at me. I don’t think she even registered anything that she saw. Her eyes looked red and tired. Her mascara was still intact so she hadn’t been crying, but it looked like it might be an inevitability.
“Your father is leaving,” she said, and left the room.
I looked from where she had been standing to the video, and back again. I hit “stop” on the remote, turned off the TV, and went out to the living room where my father was spinning his keys.
When he saw me, he gave a wistful smile. “Howdy, Cupcake” he said.
“Howdy, Doody,” I replied, and gave him a hug.
“I’m so sorry,” he said. “I really wanted to spend the entire day with you.”
“Me too,” I said, and realized I meant it. I squeezed him a little tighter, and an unfamiliar feeling of loss began to spread through me as I began to let go. Holding him, feeling his masculine strength bring me in close, gave me an unexpected feeling of comfort and warmth. All of my life, I had been okay with just hanging out and being pals, so I wasn’t prepared for this additional burden of emotion.
“I’ll make it up to you, I promise,” he said, and kissed me on top of my head.
I let go of him. “I’ll call you later, Michelle,” he said.
She nodded. “You better,” she replied. She sounded sad and deflated.
He waved, and then he was gone. I looked from the closed door to my mother, and gave her a questioning look.
She swallowed, and for a moment I thought she was going to tell me about their discussion. Instead, she said, “I wasn’t expecting you back until tonight. I’m afraid I’ve got some errands to run.”
She gathered up her purse and then paused, thinking for a moment. “Do you want to come with me?” she asked, somewhat nervously. It was obvious that she didn’t actually want me to go.
“No, thanks,” I said, sparing her. The last thing I needed was to spend the entire day worried about whether my mother knew what was in the VCR. “I stayed up pretty late last night, and really could use a nap.”
She let out a breath, relieved. “Okay,” she said. “Well, you guys caught me just as I was leaving, so I’ll see you in a few hours.” With that, she grabbed her keys and left the house, leaving me to my own thoughts.
The door barely had time to shut when I raced back to my room. Now that I had the house to myself, I could find out if she had seen the tape. Was that why she was nervous? Or did it have something to do with what Dad had told her?
My heart was pounding as I found the remote and pressed play. Sure enough, the tape began to play from the beginning, with all the pronouncements that all the actors were over 18, etc. My mouth went dry and it became difficult to swallow. My hands were shaking so much that I nearly dropped the remote.
She had seen it. She must have!
I sat on the bed, feeling crushed. I wasn’t sure how I was going to be able to face her when she got back from her errands. What could I say? What would she say? How could I possibly explain this?
I don’t know how long I had been lost in my thoughts, but then I heard the female announcer’s voice, “Which one of them can take… Rod Rocket!?”
I looked up at that point, and for some reason that I can’t explain, I instinctively paused the video. Vaguely, I recall pausing it here before, with my father’s naked, semi-erect form slightly shaking from the video tape’s inaccurate pausing mechanism. This time, however, everything felt different.
It had been less than a week since this entire travesty had begun, but looking at the still image on the screen it felt like another lifetime. I felt like I had grown, evolved somehow, in a very short period of time.
This had been the first time I saw my father’s cock in all its glory. This image, right here on the video. I remember my surprise, how large it looked. That was before the dildo, before last night. As I looked at the porno right now, though, the image didn’t seem to do my father justice.
I had seen his dick, wet, lubricated, and fucking Redd in real life. I had taken the life-size replica of it into my womb, had felt the immensity of it. What I saw on the screen now didn’t look right. It looked smaller and less impressive now.
It made no sense.
I remembered there was an interview with him later on, and I felt a curiosity of a different sort. I wanted to look at his face – his much younger face – and I needed to do it right now.
Fast forwarding to the interview, where the woman asked him if he was ready. I paused the tape once more, and it froze upon his goofy grin. I looked at him in a new light, with new-found experience and the hangover of our conversation in the car.
For some reason, the VCR paused the tape and it was completely still and crystal clear. The closeup of his face was perfectly framed, and I could look at him – I mean really look at him – with no distortion.
I tried to detach myself, emotionally. How would I react to him if I was there at the time – not as his daughter, but as a woman? What if I was some random person watching this porno, someone not related to him. What would I think?
He couldn’t have been much older than I was. Maybe three, four years older? In the passing of time, he hadn’t changed much – at least not physically. He still had that blonde hair, though it was a little longer in the video, and he had kept his build. All of this I had already known and realized.
What I hadn’t realized, though, was just how naive and innocent and sweet he looked. There was something about him, standing there, something vulnerable. Maybe it was a trick of the video, maybe not. I fast forwarded to the moment where he dropped his robe in front of that stupid, idiot brunette bitch (yes, I still held a grudge against her), and paused the video again.
Like the girl in the video, I had been riveted on his massive cock. Now, however, I looked at his face.
My eyes are up here! a joking voice interrupted my thoughts.
I hadn’t realized it before, mostly because I had been fixated on what was between his legs, but his eyes told a completely different story. He held a smile, but they didn’t really reach his eyes. I began to wonder if he actually wanted to be there.
It suddenly occurred to me that I had always assumed that men loved porn, and always fantasized about being in porn. My father, for sure, was absolutely built for porn. It never dawned on me that maybe, just maybe, some men didn’t want that kind of attention.
I shook my head at the thought. Yeah, right. Like, name a guy who doesn’t want a 11 and a half inch monster cock and the chance to fuck a dozen women at a time, whenever he wants?
Puh-lease.
Nevertheless, this is someone I knew, someone I was related to. What’s more, I had just seen him five minutes ago.
As I continued to look at the screen, though, I began to wonder about just how much I actually knew about my father. Up until a week or so ago, I only thought of him as a “construction worker,” someone who never really had much of anything interesting to say, someone who didn’t really rock the boat.
The very existence of this video proved that I knew next-to-nothing about my father. He had had a secret life, hidden away for years. There was something here, something in this video, that could reveal a part of him that I’d never known. Seeing my father in this light of being a porn star was new, but I could feel that there was something more.
I took a renewed interest in the video, suddenly no longer thinking about whether or not my mother had seen it. I’d deal with that later. At the moment, it seemed far more important to search for clues in the past on this tape. I had no idea what I was looking for, but I became convinced that it was there. Somewhere.
I fast-forwarded through the bitchy brunette until I got to Tracy’s part of the tape. As the familiar footage played out in front of me, it felt like there was a completely new subtext. Instead of watching the sex, I paid far closer attention to their faces and the way they interacted.
After everything that happened the night before, this was almost like some sort of do-over for me. It was as if I had watched some science fiction movie with a twist at the end, but upon rewatching there were all these clues that I had missed the first time around.
Initially, the first time I watched the tape, it looked like they had been pretty good actors before. Their banter was playful, and their chemistry seemed realistic.
Wait. Their chemistry seemed realistic… because it was.
I sat bolt upright as the realization dawned on me. This wasn’t acting, and it wasn’t the first time they had met! In the back of my head, I guess I had made the assumption that they met on this porn shoot, just one coupling like every other – that they were just actors on a stage, doing a job. Just like every other girl in the movie.
As I watched him look at her take him in her mouth, though, it was clear that this hadn’t been the first time they were together. I rewound the video a little to the beginning of their scene. Sure enough, when “Redd” first pulled him out of his robe, there was no shock, no surprise.
She already knew what she was getting, I thought to myself.
This epiphany changed everything for me. She looked at him with more intensity than just lust. Sure, that was there, but she looked at him the same way as she did the night before. He was hers, and not just in a sexual sense. Now that I was paying attention to his face, rather than his cock, I could see that it wasn’t just that he was impressed, but that he was…
I gasped, my hand flying to my mouth in shock.
He was in love.
My father and I may not have been close, but if there’s one thing that I did know about him it was that he was not that good of an actor!
I had completely missed it the first time around.
“… cream pie, of course,” she was saying as she placed him at her pussy. Suddenly I was back, hiding behind the bannister, watching the two of them fucking from my voyeuristic perch at the top of the stairs. I had watched him fuck her so hard that he lifted her off her feet completely, rag-dolling her through multiple orgasms.
In comparison to that, this was slow, tender love-making. Tracy’s nipples stuck straight out, but she made no move to touch them. Instead, she rested her hands on his chest in order to keep her body from falling too far onto his shaft.
I don’t want to go to the hospital, she had said. I watched her now on the tape, gingerly keeping herself high enough so that he couldn’t penetrate her too deeply. I wondered if he had sent her to the ER before this moment. She certainly guided him with an experienced hand.
His grunts zeroed my attention once more, and I remembered he would be coming soon. The first time I watched the video, I had focused on his throbbing, pulsing cock as he emptied himself into her womb. Now, though, I forced myself to watch their faces. As much as I wanted to watch that cock pump and pulse, I needed to get my answers even more.
If I hadn’t been so horny the first time around, so obsessed with my fantasy of what she must have felt with him shooting inside her, I would have been ashamed at what I had missed. There was no mistaking it. There was no acting here. Tracy’s expression was calm, soft, and she held a breathtaking smile across her face. She practically glowed. There was a beat, and then both of them broke out in laughter just as the image faded to black.
I paused the video. I was still horny as fuck, but I needed to get my head wrapped around what I had just seen. I didn’t know how to process what had just been revealed to me.
Okay, so, wait. Wait. Wait! What!?
I tried to understand the ramifications. If my father and Tracy had been dating before the video was shot, why would she let him star in a porn video at all? Why would she let him have sex with ten other women in the first place, much less take part in the video, herself?
Tracy isn’t really the jealous type, he had said.
Well, okay, but if that’s true, then why was she sending me all of those signals about how he was hers?
Remember, he’s mine, she had said.
And if that was true, what happened after they shot the porno? Why did they break up? How was it my father’s fault? What could have been so bad – if shooting a porno with several other women wasn’t the cause – that made them split up?
It made no sense to me.
The slightly shaking paused video got my attention. At the moment, it was the only clue I had to what might have happened, now that I knew there was more going on behind the scenes than I had first thought.
Swallowing, and knowing what was coming next, I clicked the play button on the remote. Sure enough, Simone’s doppelgänger appeared, and I immediately hit the fast-forward button. I felt some mild amusement as the video raced through her ultra-fast spanking and anal sex, until he finally pulled out and sprayed her back and ass with comically fast eruptions.
I let the video continue at its breakneck speed up through the introduction of Punk Girl and up through the moment where he was sucking on her nipples. Suddenly, I realized I didn’t want to miss this, and rewound the video to the beginning of that part, and began to fondle my tits as the tape began to play at its normal speed.
What about the clues?
They’ll still be there.
Don’t you want to know? Don’t you want to get answers?
Yes, yes. Right after this. I need this.
I knew that fact more than I knew my own name. There was truth on the screen that I needed to see. Even though I had seen this before, and Tracy had shared her own fascination with my nipples, I still couldn’t quite believe that anyone would get so worked up about a flat chest. Correction: my flat chest.
Yet, here we were. My father’s enthusiasm for Punk Girl’s nipples was egged on by her reaction, I’m sure, and he looked like could have spent hours happily playing with her chest. I imagined some boy fascinated with my nipples, completely absorbed in sucking them until I got tired of his attention.
For her part, she loved his cock. No, wait. Tracy loved his cock. Punk Girl worshipped it. I’ve heard about people being objectified, but in this case it was hard to escape the true objectification of his dick by this tiny girl with the raucous attitude.
There were a lot of close-up shots of what she was doing, so I couldn’t get to see his face very much. The first time that I saw the video, that was okay. Now, though, I really wanted to see how he was handling this.
Nevetheless, I simply had to gawk at her ability to take him so far into her mouth. She was a true sword-swallower, and I didn’t mind the attention the camera paid to her at that moment. I wondered how long it would take me to get that much of the dildo down my throat.
Somewhere in the back of my mind, I marveled at just how nonchalant the thought had come to me. I guess once you taste your father’s come – even second-hand – you tend to gloss over more minor transgressions.
My curiosity got the better of me, and I fished out the dildo and once again held it in my hands. I rewound the video to just before Punk Girl began to take him in her mouth, and paused it. When I tried to do this (yesterday!) I could barely get the head in behind my teeth. I must not have been doing it right, as this girl was as small – or smaller – than I was, and she didn’t seem to be having any problems whatsoever. There must have been something I was doing wrong. But how could I tell?
I wasn’t sure what to do next, when a thought struck me.
The full length mirror that doubled as a clothes rack stood in the corner of the room. The idea would have been laughable even one day before, but now it seemed perfectly logical. For research purposes, of course.
I took off all the remaining clothing from the mirror and angled it so that I could see myself and the video at the same time. I picked up the remote, and found that my hand was shaking as I pressed play.
I tried to mimic what she was doing, but she worked over his dick with her mouth and tongue so fast that it was impossible to completely replicate. I did the best I could, until I realized that the key to all of it was simply getting it lubricated properly.
Trying not to think about how I had nearly gotten stuck while blowing the fake cock, I made absolutely sure that I coated the head and the shaft immediately underneath with as much saliva as I could. It wasn’t too difficult, because I felt as if I were practically drooling anyway.
My eyes flicked to the mirror, and I immediately realized I had made a terrible mistake. I looked ridiculous. Just who was it that I was trying to fool?
Disheartened, I dropped the dildo to my lap, and turned to the video once more. Instead of feeling like an idiot, though, I realized that Punk Girl had the totally right idea, and I was totally wrong. This was just as much attitude as it was appearance. More so, even.
I raised the dildo to my lips once again, and began to put myself in her position – all attitude, no tits.
When she opened her mouth to take him in, I swallowed and then aimed the head directly at my face. I watched my reflection, side by side, and understood that Punk Girl was using a completely separate technique than I was. I hadn’t realized it until I saw just how much she was using her lips and cheeks to work the head into her mouth, whereas I was just trying to shove it in my pie hole.
Once I allowed my jaw to stretch and allow myself the use of my entire mouth – lips, cheeks, tongue and all – the head slipped inside with no problem. My eyes widened in surprise and I couldn’t help but allow a “Woo hoo!” escape. Well, it was more of a “Wnnh Nnnh!” but it worked for me.
My saliva helped a great deal, and I realized just why it had been so difficult in the shower. The falling water had actually washed off most of my saliva’s natural lubricant, making it so much harder than it needed to have been. I saw her moving her lips back and forth, feeding the cock in a little more at a time but then backing off just enough before trying again.
I turned to watch myself in the mirror. Initially I wanted to make sure that I was doing it right, but then I began to become fascinated by what I was seeing. I turned myself at a slight angle so that I could see more of the side of the shaft, rather than just a full-on view. My jaw looked impossibly wide and stretched, but at least the cock was moving back and forth.
The feeling was indescribable. The massive cockhead pushed against everything, stretching the sides of my mouth and pushing my tongue back into my throat. I felt a strong urge to gag, and had to withdraw the head enough to swallow. A trail of saliva hung between the head and my lips, tiny bubbles reflecting the TV light.
I used that to my advantage, making sure that the entire first third of his cock (I mean, the dildo) was drenched, and I placed it back against my lips as Punk Girl began her deep throating action on the screen. I knew that I wouldn’t be able to do anything like that, but I did manage to slide the head a little further than I did before.
Mirror-me worked the head back and forth, and I watched tiny reference points on the dildo disappear into my mouth, and then reappear. Then a new reference point would disappear, and then another. Once more I felt the gag reflex kick in, and I need to pull it out in order to swallow. It felt like I was trying to stick a soda can into my mouth, but there was just enough give in the material to make it less of a struggle.
When Punk Girl finally straddled him, I reluctantly pulled the dildo out of my mouth. I felt like I had been challenged, and I passed, but I wanted to keep going. I also wanted to feel it slip into my pussy again, and those two feelings were battling it out.
I suddenly realized this was the same part of the video where I had been tempted to fuck the dildo, but was too chickenshit to do so the first time. This time, I didn’t feel held back by some sense of impropriety, and immediately made up my mind to do what I wasn’t willing to do before.
I broke speed records getting naked, and aimed the wet, saliva-covered cock at my cunt and penetrated myself.
And then screamed in pain.
Nonononononononono…
Gingerly, I extracted the penis from my tender, sore, aching pussy. There was no way I was going to be able to fuck myself with that monstrosity again so soon. I needed time to recover, and I had no idea how long that would take.
I sat on the edge of my bed, naked, damn near tears in sexual frustration. I know I had no right to be, as I had had more sexual activity in the past 24 hours with more than just my fingers than I even thought about having in my entire life. I should have been completely satisfied in just how much sex I’d gotten.
Yeah, right.
I was acutely aware that I was no longer a virgin, and felt like I had waited too damn long as it was. My libido was a runaway train, but my body felt like I was stuck on some sort of circular track.
On the screen, Punk Girl was thrashing about on my father’s cock, reveling in her own sexual drive. Unable to partake, I felt a growing envy as she could have more freedom in her activity than I could at the moment. In a fit of petulant pique, I simply raised the dick to my mouth and began sucking on it absentmindedly.
To my utter amazement, it started to calm me down almost immediately. Feeling the shape of the cockhead on my lips seemed to placate me at first, but then I found myself strangely drawn to the feeling. I remembered that Punk Girl had rubbed her face with my father’s cock on the video, and I was beginning to understand just why she did that. It felt remarkably… comforting.
I caught my reflection once again, and was surprised to see a look of contentment on my face. I began to fantasize about some guy that I had yet to meet, watching me love his cock the way I was playing with this one. I wondered if my imaginary lover would be turned on by what I did, or if he would feel offended for just thinking about a disembodied cock instead of him as a person.
Maybe Tracy would know how to answer my questions.
In the meantime, though, I found myself ignoring the video more and more, and instead felt encouraged by watching myself in the mirror. Once again my lips found their way to the tip, and I began to naturally purse them in preparation for taking it into my mouth.
This time, my jaw seemed to know what to expect, and it automatically stretched to the proper aperture. To think, just the day before I had almost locked my teeth behind the head so that it couldn’t get out at all. Now, though, I was able to put the head in my mouth without any real trouble at all.
Fast learner? I thought. Beginner’s luck?
The girl in the mirror, naked and orally pleasuring the fake cock, looked… hot. I wondered if I could ever have the attitude that Punk Girl had, but she had definitely given me motivation to reconsider myself as a sexual being. As usual, my nipples were completely erect, and if I didn’t need both hands to hold the damn cock my fingers would be caressing and pinching them like crazy.
At that point, a thought struck me. I spun around on my bed, and lay down with my head hanging off the end. I could still see the video, though while I could see Punk Girl fucking my father, it was difficult to register the details upside down. It didn’t matter, though, because I was actually more interested in what I saw in the mirror.
You can do this, I tried to encourage myself.
I held the dildo above my head, and allowed gravity to dip the head back towards my mouth. Success! I could simply let the Earth do the hard work for me, and I could use one hand to guide it while the other managed to provide some release to my nipples.
There was an additional benefit as well, one that I hadn’t considered. Being in this inverted position, I was able to train my mouth and throat to have greater control of the fake dick. Within a few moments, I was getting into a rhythm where I could allow the dildo to slide deeper, and I could push it back out with my tongue, all the while caressing my nipple with my free hand in a similar cadence.
As the dick slid in and out of my mouth, I saw my reflection in a completely new light. My mouth was being fucked. By all appearances, some disembodied cock was fucking me in a steady rhythm, moving in and out with intent and purpose.
My god, I wanted to come. Now, though, I also had a strange craving to feel my imaginary lover come as well. In my mouth. While fucking my face.
My eyes flicked over to the screen, and I saw my father’s upside-down image spraying Punk Girl’s chest and throat. I squeezed my nipple and imagined the cock erupting into my mouth.
Sure as fuck, I felt my pussy spasm. It wasn’t the mind-blowing, ribcage-rattling explosion that I had experienced over the last week, but it was definitely an orgasm. I felt my breathing catch with each inhalation, and my shocked reflection stared back at me in the mirror.
I didn’t even know that was possible!
I felt torn between not wanting to take the cock out of my mouth, and wanting to completely open up my airways to breathe. I could feel my breath travel along the dildo until it reached my hand, and it felt hot and humid.
A rush of pride filled me, and I took the head of the dildo out of my mouth. I sat up, and put the volume on mute as the screen went to black and another girl faded into view. I hadn’t seen this part of the video before, and at this point I didn’t really care. I was only about a third of the way, I guessed, but I supposed the real impressive stuff was going to happen later.
As if I hadn’t already seen some impressive feats already!
This new girl was a plastic blonde, a cardboard cutout of the typical porn star. Very pretty, nice body, but I had absolutely no interest in her preening for the camera. Instead, I wanted to brag about my accomplishment. I wanted to share the achievement with someone. Someone… intimate.
I reached for Tracy’s card that I had thrown on my nightstand and without thinking about it, I picked up my phone and dialed her number.
After a couple of rings, I finally heard her voice. “Hello?”
“Hi Tracy, it’s Shannon,” I said.
“Oh Shannon! Hang on a sec, I need to get off the other line.” The phone went silent for a moment, and I took the opportunity to lie back on my bed and get comfortable. The video played on, muted, and I lazily traced my fingertips across my naked body.
Just waiting for Tracy and being naked put me in a very strange state of mind. I felt naughty, and not just a little bit coy. I wanted to hear her voice, and I wanted to play with my nipples when I did.
“Okay, I’m back,” I heard hear voice come through loud and clear.
All of a sudden, I didn’t know what to say.
“Shannon?” I heard her ask.
Say something, dammit! She thinks the call dropped. She’ll hang up!
“I’m naked,” I blurted out.
“Oh wow,” Tracy said. She took a beat, and then said, “I wish I could be there with you.”
“I could turn on my camera,” I offered.
“No, don’t,” she said. “I just want to hear your voice.”
I pouted, disappointed. I hadn’t realized until that moment that I had really wanted to see her face. Or maybe I wanted to hear her say how sexy I was. “Okay.”
“Let me get this straight,” she said, and I could hear that she was trying to get herself comfortable. “You got naked and decided to call me?”
I grinned. “Yep.”
“And what, prey tell, are you doing naked?”
I told her what I had just done, how I had figured out how to suck on the cock and touch my tits at the same time. “It wasn’t as good as when you fucked me last night, but it was still an orgasm.”
I felt giddy about it, a huge grin spread across my face as I whispered the truly naughty bits, conspiratorially.
“Good for you!” she exclaimed. “That’s the way to do it. I’m so incredibly impressed! I’m definitely sorry I missed that.”
I beamed. Somehow, hearing praise from Tracy boosted my ego as well as my pride.
“Now that you’ve had your orgasm,” she said, slyly, “what are you doing right now?”
“I’m watching…” I trailed off. I almost said, watching your porno with my dad,and then realized that it probably wouldn’t be a good idea. Tracy had no idea about the video.
“Porn?” she suggested.
“Uh-huh.” Close enough.
“And you’re now horny?”
I nodded, and then realized how silly that was. “Of course,” I said.
“Are you fucking yourself with your dildo?”
“No,” I said, and I think my frustration came through on the phone. “I’m too sore from last night.”
She laughed, “Yeah, well, that doesn’t surprise me. I still can’t believe you took that much in on your first time!”
“Me neither,” I agreed.
“Don’t worry, sweetie,” she said. “It gets easier with practice. Also, when you get the real thing, it’s much more forgiving with your body than the dildo.”
“The real thing?” I asked, not sure I heard her right.
“Well, you know what I mean,” she said.
Actually, I didn’t. I had no idea what she truly meant.
She didn’t give me a chance to process her meaning before she continued, “There’s something about having a real extra-large penis that allows you to wrap around it like nothing else can. It stretches you, but it also gives a little too.”
I imagined my father’s hard cock buried inside of Tracy’s pussy as she described it. “So it doesn’t hurt?” I asked.
“No, it does, but I actually kind of like a little bit of pain, so it’s okay,” she said.
“You like pain?” I asked, incredulous. “Why?”
She paused to think of her answer. “It’s hard to describe,” she said, finally. “If you do it right, it starts off as a stretch. You’re getting the muscles used to it. If you go too fast, it’s too sharp and it’s like getting stabbed. That’s not so much fun. If you do it just right, though, mmmm.”
She moaned, and I wasn’t sure it was entirely because of what she was saying. I was now convinced she was touching herself as she was talking to me.
“It’s like, you have to control it, control him. You take him in slowly, easing him in and feel yourself getting stretched further and further. You get just to an edge – a very, very sharp edge – but you don’t let it cut.
“When you do that,” she continued, “you can ride that edge for a long, long time, and it’s exquisite.”
I began to realize that I knew what she meant, sort of. The difference was, I had been trying to ignore the pain, get past it. Tracy, on the other hand, had turned it into her own erotic masterpiece.
“So you ride that pain for as long as you can,” she said, her voice sultry with heat. “And if I’m lucky, sometimes I can bring myself to orgasm just by finding that edge and staying there.”
“You can?” I asked, incredulous.
“Well, if I’m being totally honest, only twice,” she confessed. “It’s really, really difficult.”
“Why?” I had to ask. I was genuinely curious.
“Because it slips away pretty quickly. You start to get used to it, and then the pain just goes away,” she sighed. “That’s why you have to have complete control, otherwise you either go to far and it hurts too much, or the pain turns into a warmth and the edge is lost completely.
“Not that it’s a bad thing. When the pain slips away, you’re left with that warm feeling, and every nerve ending is alive. You can feel everything,” she sighed. Her breathing was becoming more ragged, and her words came out a bit more staccato.
“It takes a very special kind of dick to do that,” she continued. “You need one with girth, not just length. And your father has the perfect cock for me.”
“Perfect?” I repeated, not knowing what to say that could follow up to that.
“It’s not just the size, Shannon,” she said. “The size opens the door. Look, I’ve had big-dicked guys before – not like your father, of course, but larger than average – and they just thought their dick would do all the work. As if they stick it inside you, and bam! – you’re supposed to have a thousand orgasms.
“But if you get a good lover, you can’t help it. Every muscle, every vein, everything that he has will be touching every. Single. Part of you,” her last words came out in a breathy gasp.
I pinched my nipple, wishing I could watch her. The sound of her voice was driving me crazy. It was right in my ear, and I could almost feel her hot breath on my neck. Remembering how sensitive my earlobe had been when she had taken it between her lips, I almost expected her to do that again.
“Of course,” she giggled, “the fact that he is strong enough to lift me in the air and fuck me like sex doll doesn’t hurt!”
I swallowed, feeling my mouth dry. Tracy was sharing more information than I ever could have learned on my own. There was a whole lifetime of pleasure that she had experienced, and that I had never even dreamed of. I began to regret my lack of curiosity in these kinds of things. Well, up until now.
“Do you let him fuck your ass, then?” I asked, thinking about Simone’s doppelgänger on the video. I would not have thought it even possible until I saw it with my own eyes. Maybe Tracy’s pain fetish extended to anal sex.
“No, I could never quite get there,” she said, and the regret was obvious. “He loves anal sex, because apparently it’s possible for him to go all the way to the root and bury himself balls deep. I’ve always wanted to be able to do that for him, but it’s the one thing I’ve just never been able to do. It’s just too… intense.
“But I can take him all the way in my pussy now,” she said proudly. “Last night was the first time, and you got to see me do it. After nearly twenty years! It was kind of cool to have someone see me make that accomplishment!”
“Yeah,” I said. “I was shocked. That was incredible!”
“Thank you!” she said. “I wasn’t sure if I was going to be able to do it. I know he’s wanted to do that for a very, very long time. Me too, in fact!”
“It looked like it was going to tear you apart!” I said.
“Oh my god, Shannon, it was amazing,” she gushed. “I’ve had a lot of cocks in my life – a lot of cocks – but your father’s is the only one I’ve ever had that reached every part of me. He’s managed to touch places that I didn’t even know exist inside my own body!
“In a way, I feel bad for you,” she said, shifting gears and catching me by surprise. “With that dildo, you only get an impression of what he feels like, how big he is, but it’s just not the same. With a dildo, you have all the control. In real life, you never quite know what’s going to happen next.
“You can’t imagine what it feels to have something like that being inside you, pulsing, moving in ways you don’t expect. When it’s constantly changing inside you, you can’t think of anything else. It takes over every part of you, and it’s all you can focus on. It’s like…”
She paused, trying to find the right words. It took her so long, I was beginning to think that she was lost in her own masturbation and had forgotten what she was about to say.
“It’s like,” she finally continued, “your body has limits, ya know? You think you know what they are, but then someone comes along and shows you that there is so, so much more than you could ever know about yourself.
“Plus, his cock is so hot. I’m not just talking about being sexy, I mean it actually gets hot!” She sighed again. “And when he comes inside you – oh my god! It gets even bigger, even harder. It takes me by surprise every time. Just when I think I’ve been at my limit, he takes me one step further.”
“What does it feel like?” I asked before I even knew the words were coming out of my mouth.
There was a pause, and I wasn’t sure if she was going to tell me. Finally, she said, “When your father comes inside of me, it feels like an explosion has gone off inside my body. There is hot liquid everywhere, but there’s no room for it to go anywhere.
“My body takes over and it’s like I’m the only person in the world who can keep that explosion from tearing apart the world, so I squeeze him with my muscles as hard as I can. That just makes him shoot harder and farther.
“It happens so fast. You know it’s going to happen, but it only takes a second or two, and yet at the same time it feels like time has stopped. It’s a chain reaction, going up and up and up and ohhhh,” her breath caught, and then released into a beautiful moan. I realized I had just heard her come. The sound was pure music, almost like she was singing – a melodic note coming through the phone next to my ear in perfect fidelity.
Her breathing became tight and erratic, and it took her a while to calm down. I continued to rub my nipples and I couldn’t help but stroke my clit gently. I wanted to fuck myself so bad, but all I could do was tease. I thought about what she said about the pain, but somehow it felt like I couldn’t quite control it after the fact. I’d just have to hold on to that piece of information for later.
“… and I come every time he does,” she finally said. Her voice was warm syrup, sweet and sticky in satisfaction.
She had been waxing so poetic about my father’s cock that I couldn’t help but feel a strong current of envy. I couldn’t fathom the feelings she was describing, but they sounded amazing. I wanted some of that for myself, and wished I wasn’t quite so sore as to use the dildo again.
I was horny, and frustrated. Her words had brought me to a precipice that I didn’t know if I could cross, but I was caught between how they made me feel, and what they actually meant.
Even so, there was something slightly off about what she was saying. I got the impression that Tracy was teasing me. No, that’s not quite the right word. Taunting me? Tempting me?
Her tone was matter-of-fact, more like a girl gossiping with her close friend about her love life, so it was difficult to tell. But surely she must realize that she was telling all of this to me, right?
I had never really met any of the girls my father dated before. I think he had one girlfriend once, several years before, whom I had actually met. I didn’t even remember her name, though. So, was this the kind of woman he usually dated? Someone this open about their sex life?
Was this normal? It didn’t feel normal to me.
I also wasn’t sure if I cared. I also didn’t think I had any room for complaint given what Tracy and I had done, and what I had seen. After all, I called her. She didn’t just drop all of this on me unexpectedly. This was all on me.
“So what is it you want, Shannon?” she asked, breaking into my thoughts. It was a pointed question, loaded with innuendo. “What do you want… right now?”
Did she want me to come out and say that I was envious? Did she want me to say that I wanted to fuck my own father?
Well, do you?
Put on the spot, I swallowed, afraid that my next words might drive her away. Despite everything, I found myself faced with a fear that she would reject me. Nevertheless, I decided to be equally direct.
“Now I’m horny and I want to hear your voice to help me come.”
There was a slight pause. It was just long enough to make me wonder if I had said the wrong thing.
“Ooh, baby,” she cooed when it became clear I was waiting for her response. “Good girl. Tell me more.”
I swallowed, gathered my courage, and whispered, “I wish you were here right now. I bet I could come even harder just by you sucking on my nipples.”
I’d never said those words to anyone in my entire life. Even before they left my mouth, I felt the sharp rise in panic that she would laugh at me, or get angry with me, or hang up on me. She had just masturbated to orgasm with me on the phone, and here I was, scared shitless that she was going to reject me.
“Oh god, I’d love that,” she gasped, allaying my fears. “I’d love to suck your beautiful tits until I feel you come.”
Sighing in relief, I pinched my nipples and allowed myself to imagine that she was lying on top of me. I pictured her lying between my spread legs, her beautiful breasts pushing into my lower stomach as she took the nipples, one at a time, in between her full, pouty lips. In my mind’s eye, I couldn’t reach underneath her to touch myself, almost as if I was trying to marry my fantasy with my reality. I was too sore to be penetrated, so I simply fantasized a scenario where being unable to play with my pussy was justified.
“Shannon?” she asked, trying to get my attention.
“Oh, sorry, I’m here,” I said.
“I can’t stop touching myself,” she said. It was a plain statement, but I could hear the strain in her voice. Even after she had orgasmed the simple declarative sentence resonated with me. Something about that confession went straight to my libido.
“Oh god,” I said. “That turns me on so much!”
“Talk to me,” she said. “I want to come so bad.”
She paused, and then said, “Again.”
Suddenly, I had no idea what to say. I felt put on the spot with her simple confession. My mind raced to come up with something, but I kept drawing a blank. Nothing fancy or poetic seemed to work, and I felt like my words would just be a mess.
My hesitation apparently needed a prompt. She said. “I can almost feel you underneath me, feeling those nipples brush against my lips.”
I took her cue. “Yeah, and I run my fingers through your hair and hold you to my chest.”
“Keep going,” she prodded. “I’m doing what you’re telling me. I’m running my fingers through my hair and pulling a little, just to feel what you’re talking about.”
The image of her pretending to do what I say gave me the motivation I needed. “I loved it when you sucked on my nipples, and I never wanted you to stop. I keep thinking back to when we were in the bathroom, too,” I said. Suddenly the words were coming easier.
“Oh, yes,” she whispered. “What would you have done differently?”
“You were standing behind me, and you put your arms underneath mine and began warming my tits with your hands.”
“I remember,” she purred. It sounded like it was a fond memory.
“But now I can see you in the mirror standing behind me, but instead of trying to make them go down, you’re pinching and squeezing them. It’s the first time anyone has ever touched me like that, and I’m scared and nervous, but I don’t want you to stop.”
All of that was true, even though it didn’t actually happen that way.
“I didn’t want to stop,” she said. “I loved the way they felt in the palms of my hands.”
“I was so sad when you did,” I agreed. “But now I am watching you in the mirror, and you start kissing on my neck, and my earlobe. I’m melting under your touch.”
“God, I want to fuck you,” she said abruptly. My own libido was already in high gear, and not being able to touch myself was both incredibly frustrating and pushing me even higher.
It took me slightly out of the moment, but I had to ask. “Do you mean now? Or do you mean you say that in my fantasy?”
“Both,” she said, and I could almost hear the coy smile on her face.
“It’s my first time,” I continued after a deep breath, “so I don’t know what to do. All I know is that I’m really enjoying what you’re doing, and I want to know what you’re going to do next.”
“So, what do I do next?” she asked, teasing me.
“You grab my chest with both hands, and then push your body against my ass,” I answered without hesitation.
I heard her gasp. “Oh yes,” she growled. “Let me rub myself onto that beautiful little bubble butt.”
Now it was my turn to gasp. So it wasn’t just self-flattery on my part. She had noticed, too! It wasn’t just my imagination. I continued to rub my nipples with my hand.
“I need both hands,” I said, breaking into my own fantasy. “Let me put you on speakerphone.”
“No!” she said with some force. I froze. “If you do, it’ll sound like you’re far away. I want to hear your voice right next to my ear.”
“O-okay,” I said, and kept the phone where it was. It was frustrating, and yet at the same time I understood what she meant. Her voice, her breathing, everything was right next to me. I wished I had found my earphones before I called her, but it was too late for that now.
“Keep going,” she prompted.
“I’m watching you in the mirror, and I can see you getting more and more turned on.” I found where I had left off, and my voice sounded a little bit hesitant, but it soon returned to full strength. “I’ve never been the object of someone’s desire before. This is all new to me.”
“Oh baby,” she purred. “I have so much to teach you.”
“I know,” I said. “You already have, too.”
“I keep interrupting you. I’m sorry, please keep going.”
“I’m scared and nervous, but I’m horny too. I want you to watch everything you do. I love being wanted, and I love what you’re doing to me. I can feel you pull my chest with your hands, pulling me against your body as you hump my ass.”
“Ohh,” I heard her moan. “What do I do then?”
“You’re getting more and more turned on, and I can feel the heat from your pussy through your skirt and my jeans,” I am freestyling now. I have no idea where this is going, but I’m really liking it. My nipples were loving it.
“My father calls to see if we’re okay, and you shout at him that it’s all fine, that it’s ‘women’s stuff,’ and he’s okay with it,” I say. It seemed a bit odd to throw my father into the mix, but I’d already said it and now I can’t un-say it. Besides, it added to the sense of realism for the fantasy.
“You tell me that we don’t have much time,” I said, “and then you reach down to my jeans and pull them down to my thighs. You lift your skirt and now I can feel your bare pussy against my ass.”
“Keep going, Shannon!” she pleaded. “I’m so close! Please make me come again.”
Her voice sounds desperate. I suddenly found myself eager to let her come with the story version of her. I think she’s holding off just to keep in time with my fantasy.
“I’ve never been with a woman,” I continue as if she hadn’t said anything, “and I have no idea what to expect. Your pussy is wet, and my ass is starting to get wet from you. I’m still watching you in the mirror, and you’re grinding against me harder and harder.”
Her breathing was loud and ragged. She was frisking away at her pussy like mad. I could just about make out the faint sounds of wetness in the background.
“All of a sudden, you grab my nipples and squeeze as hard as you can,” I say, pressing my own hands against my chest at the same time. You look up at me on the mirror and look me straight in the eye. Your eyes go wide open and you tell me -”
“I’m going to come!” she shouted, finishing the thought.
I was close as well, but when I heard her gasping and moaning on the other end of the phone, I simply stopped and listened. Not only was it the sexiest sounds I had ever heard, but I didn’t want to ruin it by trying to talk. It was her second time in only a few minutes, and the power of her climax seemed to take both of us by surprise.
My hand instinctively reached down to my pussy, and I forgot all about how sore I was. I pushed my hand against my mons, and slipped my fingers around my clit and through my pussy lips. The shock was instantaneous, and I sucked in a huge gasp of air as my orgasm pushed through my body, ending in a loud squeak.
“Yes!” I heard her breathe into my ear, encouraging me.
My muscles clenched, and a cramping pain crept into the orgasm as well. The mixture of pleasure and pain was an odd combination to process, and I wasn’t sure how much I liked it. I needed it, and was grateful for the release, but the accompanying soreness definitely dampened my enjoyment. It was very different than the “stretching” pain of being penetrated in the first place. I thought back to what Tracy had said, and wondered if I could figure out a way to control that and balance it like she did.
“Oh god, Suh-Shannon,” she cried, as she finally found her voice. “There’s nothing quite like knowing someone is masturbating while thinking of you. Did you just come too?”
Her stutter caused me to pause. Was she just about to call me by another name? No, she just couldn’t breathe right, that’s all. After all, just how communicative are we supposed to be after a massive orgasm?
“Yeah,” I said. “But I just wish I wasn’t so sore.”
She laughed at that. “Oh, sweetie,” she said. “Welcome to the club.”
I suddenly realized that she was probably just as sore as I was. After all, she had been tossed around by my father as if she was a rag doll. “Oh god, that’s right!” I said. “How can you even think about touching yourself?”
She thought for a second, and then said, “It’s difficult to explain. I’m sore because it’s the price I pay to get fucked within an inch of my life. I like to get fucked like that, so being sore reminds me that I’ve been fucked just the way I like it.”
“So,” I said, thoughtfully, “I should like walking funny?”
She laughed. “Oh, baby, all I’m saying is that if I hated being sore more than I like the way your father fucked me, I’d be climbing the walls. God knows I lived far too long that way.”
Coming down from my orgasmic high, the conversation suddenly felt weird. I was suddenly reminded that I was, effectively, causing her to cheat on my father. Well, maybe “reminded” wasn’t quite so accurate as “no longer unable to forget it.”
I thought about her words. Specifically, she’d mentioned more than once that she had a long dry spell of sorts between the times she dated my dad. My father had only hinted at what had happened in the past. I thought that, perhaps, Tracy could help me understand.
“Tracy?” I swallowed, trying to get the courage to ask the question.
“Yes, baby?”
“Why did you and my dad break up?” I wasn’t sure that I wanted to hear the answer. “Way back when, I mean.”
There was a very long pause, and I began to fear that I had offended her. That’s none of your business, Shannon! Way to take a sharp left turn in the conversation!
Well, she did just mention how long she had gone without it. Even so, I got nervous. “I mean,” I said, trying to fill the vacuum, “he said that it was his fault, but he didn’t tell me what happened.”
“He said that?” she asked. Her voice sounded generally curious. “Well, I suppose that’s one way to look at it.”
I was starting to feel that I was treading in dangerous waters, but I couldn’t understand why.
“Look, it’s complicated,” she said. Then, after some consideration, she added, “I know that people say that when they don’t really want to talk about something, but in this case it’s true.”
I thought for a long moment before finally saying, “Okay.”
She sighed. “I can tell you this, Shannon,” she said. “You can tell I’m a very sexual person, right?”
Understatement of the year. “Yes,” I said.
“I love men and women, I love coming, and I love sharing myself with other people,” she said, matter-of-factly. “When I was younger, I had the girl-next-door looks but a nymphomaniac’s libido. It took me a long time to come to terms with the fact that I was a pervert, because back then girl’s weren’t supposed to want sex.”
“I think I’m a pervert, too,” I said, quietly.
“Oh, honey,” she soothed. “Of course you are. Probably more than you even realize.”
The words struck home, and I felt the hairs rising on the back of my neck. I had no idea why, but it made me feel nervous.
“As they say,” she laughed. “It takes one to know one.”
“You’re lucky, though,” she continued. “You can be a pervert now because everything is wide open to you. When I was your age, the most perverted thing that girls did was give blowjobs, but they weren’t supposed to like it. Forget anal. You would almost never find a girl who would even talk about it, let alone admit to being curious about it, let alone liking it.
“Nowadays, all you have to do is go onto the Internet and see anything you like. Bondage, anal, incest porn – you name it, it’s all there,” she said.
Tracy was on a roll. I had apparently tapped into something she felt she needed to say, so I stayed quiet.
“Right now, I’m loving life,” she said. “But back then, well, it was another story. I was frustrated and wanted to break out of my mold, change the rules. I wanted a boyfriend that I could do everything with. Someone who would get me, you know?”
It was the first thing that she had said that I did understand. I was pretty much a loner – shy, kept to myself, didn’t really have any true friends to speak of. I wanted a boyfriend too, someone that I could talk with and – yes – fuck from time to time. That didn’t mean that I didn’t want those things, of course, but I didn’t really know how to go about getting them.
In her own way, my mother had tried to help. She had tried to mold me in her own image, one of a glamorous, flirtatious seductress – because it had worked for her. That person, the one she wanted me to be in order to get the boys, that person wasn’t me. I wanted someone who wanted me for me.
So yes, I understood her perfectly.
“When I met your father,” Tracy said, breaking into my thoughts, “everything fell into place. He loved my perversions, loved the fact that I had a wild side. He read me like a book, saw through the supposedly innocent exterior with ease. He knew me, knew that you wouldn’t know how naughty I could be by looking at me. I was the picture of the good girl next door. He would tell me over and over that I was a wolf in sheep’s clothing. And he was okay with that.
“I remember the first time I saw his dick, Shannon,” she shifted gears. “Oh my god I swear that I saw beams of light coming out of his jeans.”
I giggled, thinking back to how I thought that the video didn’t do his cock justice, now that I had seen the real thing.
“And it was mine,” she said. “He was everything a girl could possibly want in a man, including a penis that could give me a lifetime of pleasure. It was everything a pervert like me could possibly want.
“But then I got cocky,” she said, her tone of voice shifting. “There’s a part of women that we all know about, but none of us want to admit. We all want to be the envy of other women. We want to be the one in the red dress that turns all the heads at the parties. We all want to be the queen.
“Think about it,” she said, and her pointed comment took me by surprise. “When you are in a room, within three seconds you know what the pecking order is among the women. You do, don’t you.” It was a statement, rather than a question.
“Yes,” I said. She was right. Being invisible my entire life, I knew that my position on the totem pole fell somewhere between leprosy and the chewing gum under the desk. I knew that the moment I walked into any room where there were several women. Even at my own birthday party, where my mother had given me lingerie and wanted me to try it on – where I would have definitely been the Queen for a moment – I couldn’t bring myself to do it. In order to be the Queen, you can’t just act the part. You actually need to be the Queen.
“See?” she asked. “Every girl knows it. Well, I knew it. Being the girl next door isn’t glamorous, so I felt strangled because I had all of this… specialness inside of me. I was willing to do things, wanted to do things, did do things, but nobody knew. Nowadays being that way would have gotten me all kinds of attention, but back then I knew my place.
“At the time, being with your father and having that gorgeous dick all to myself wasn’t enough. I wanted to have everyone know that I had the best dick to play with, and it was mine to do with as I pleased. I wanted everyone to see his dick and be completely shocked, and then they would know that it was mine.
“And that’s why…” she said, but then stopped suddenly.
Why? Why what? What happened next?
“So, I used to be far more willing to share your father, but it turns out there are limits,” she said. The tone of her voice flattened and cooled considerably as she shifted the subject. I wanted to pry further, ask more questions, but it was painfully clear that she had revealed all that she was willing on that train of thought.
I wanted to scream. Did he find someone better? But who could have been better than Tracy? He bobbed around like a little boy at Christmas when he knew she was at his front door, and it was obvious from the look in his eyes on the video that she held something special for him.
My eyes flicked to the screen as I saw a short-haired brunette that I’d not seen before struggling to get past the halfway point with my father’s cock. It looked like that girl was definitely hitting her limits.
“But things change, too,” she said. “At the time, I couldn’t be with him any longer, but that didn’t mean that I wanted to break up with him. I know he didn’t want us to break up, either, but there are times when fate intervenes and there’s nothing you can do about it.”
I had no idea what she was talking about. It was all vague and nebulous, and she was talking in circles. I started to realize that she wasn’t going to give me any more details, either.
“And oh boy, did I miss his wonderful cock,” she sighed. It felt like she was changing the topic back to more comfortable territory for her. “You’ve seen it in action, so I’m sure you know what I mean.”
I looked at the dildo and thought about how quickly I had come to feel possessive over it. “I guess so,” I said.
“Actually,” she said, thoughtfully, “maybe you don’t. What you don’t realize, Shannon, is that most men aren’t built that way. Most men are half that size, and nowhere near as big around. I looked for almost twenty years to find someone even close to your father’s beautiful dick, and never found it.
“When you’re twenty years old, you tend to think that you’ve experienced enough in life to have it all figured out,” she said, philosophically. “You think that everything you’ve experienced is all there is to experience, that what you have is plentiful and easy to find. You take things for granted, because you can’t imagine a possibility that it will be gone for good.
“But then you realize that sometimes, when you lose something, it is gone for good,” she said, her tone changing. She was more thoughtful now. I wasn’t entirely sure she was really talking to me, but really more reflecting upon herself.
“I was dumb enough to think that because I had met your father so young, that I would meet many more like him,” she said, wistfully. “When… when we broke up, I wasn’t as bothered as I should have been, if I’m completely honest. Sure, I thought that I loved him, but I was looking forward to trying out new things and new people anyway.
“What I didn’t realize, though, was that your father is special,” she said. “Not just because of his fantastic cock, Shannon, but because of who he is as a man. He is one of the sweetest, most responsible people I’ve ever met, and one of the kindest. I never understood that I had the total package, and in my arrogance I thought I was pretty enough that I could get any guy I wanted. Maybe even a better guy. I can’t believe how wrong I was.
“Right now, I don’t know if I was actually in love with him at the time or not,” she said. “But I should have been. If I’d known then what I know now, I would have never taken him for granted. I would have fought for him. I would probably have failed, but I should have at least tried.”
I was staggered. I still had no idea what had happened that broke them up. What could have been so bad, so terrible? What on earth could have been so irreparable then, but no longer a problem now? I just didn’t understand.
“So I spent my twenties not wanting to be tied down, chasing the next dick,” she spat. There was more than a little undercurrent of hostility in her voice now. “Over time I started to realize that I had made a horrible, terrible mistake. I had the perfect man, the perfect cock, right in my hands – so to speak – and I didn’t even try to keep him.
“In one sense, though, it was all his fault,” she said, shocking me. “He had set a standard that no one else could ever meet. I’ll tell you this right now, Shannon, for all the men I’ve slept with, no one has ever come close to giving me what I needed – every single time.
“Having sex with Rod is like disconnecting your brain from the rest of the world,” she said. “Nothing else exists except you, him, and that wonderful magic cock. It takes up everything you can sense and experience. Nothing else exists, nothing else matters. When you hold it in your hands, or take it in your mouth, or – oh god – when he’s inside your pussy, there is nothing else. And it’s like that every time he fucks you.
“I had that whenever I wanted,” she said, and I thought I heard her voice crack. Then, with a little more force and intensity, she said, “I thought that that was what sex was. All the time. I thought every man could do that. It turned out I was wrong. Dead wrong. It wasn’t just the cock, it was the man. It wasn’t just the man, either, it was the cock.
“What was left was just an empty space waiting to be filled, emotionally and physically,” she said. “Most women focus on the emotional connection with their men. They think more holistically, and having that emotional connection is incredibly gratifying. It helps if you find something lacking in your man.
“But I got spoiled, Shannon,” she said. “I had both. Having that physical aspect opened up Pandora’s Box for me. I met men that I cared for, possibly even loved, but without having what I knew I had in the past they couldn’t last. They would never be able to satisfy me, no matter how hard they tried.
“I tried for almost twenty years to find a way to get that back, to have it again. I finally do now, and there’s nothing that’s going to take it away from me.” I thought I heard a sharp edge to her tone, almost a warning.
“What if I took that dildo away from you right now?” she asked, rhetorically. “What if I told you that you could use it for only a week, or a month, or even a year, and then never have it ever again – not even come close? That was me, Shannon. It was an itch I couldn’t scratch.”
She was sounding shrill, now. Her voice was laced with anger, and I couldn’t help but think that it was directed at me, somehow.
“I’m… sorry?” I offered in peace.
“Yeah, well, I waited for a very long time to get that back,” she repeated. “I suppose I’m envious of you, Shannon.”
This took me by surprise. Me? How could Tracy, woman of perfect tits and gorgeous looks, recipient of my father’s cock whenever she wanted, be envious of me?
“Me? Why?”
“Because you’ve had him for all this time,” she answered. “He’s been right there for you for your entire life. Sure, maybe not his dick, although now you have that too – or, at least, as close as possible.”
I swallowed. Her words stirred a sense of guilt in me that I wasn’t expecting. For all the years that I had taken my father for granted, Tracy’s words stung. My father had been there for my entire life. He had always been reliable, even if he wasn’t always available due to work.
Tracy had, apparently, obsessed over my father for nearly two decades, and here I was barely keeping him in mind at all. I began to understand what she had been talking about when she was younger. You get all wrapped up in the normalcy of a situation without appreciating that it actually was special all along. I suddenly felt like I had wasted years not even trying to get to know him better.
This was getting to be too much. I was starting to feel very small, nowhere near the girl-with-attitude that I thought I was becoming. My meek, shy self wanted to hide in a corner somewhere. Instinctively, I wrapped my naked body in my blanket, forming a comforting cocoon.
“What’s more,” she said, obviously on a roll. “He loves you very much. Much more, in fact, than the rest of us combined.”
Wait, what? The rest of us?
“I don’t understand,” I said, “What do you -”
“Oh, crap, Shannon, I’ve got to go,” Tracy cut me off. “I lost track of time. Let’s do this again soon, so that you can practice on getting better at your phone sex. Bye-e-e!”
She drew out the last word in a higher pitch, almost sing-song like. And then the phone went dead. It was such a drastic 180-degree turn that it left me with whiplash.
Get better at the phone sex? But… but… she had had an orgasm. Two, in fact. Wait, she did, right? I mean, why would she fake an orgasm during phone sex? Twice? It didn’t sound fake.
And what did she mean by the rest of us?
What the actual fuck!?
I felt the hairs sticking up on the back of my neck. I watched the porno in a daze, the muted sound making it much more palatable. The short-haired brunette was replaced by another carbon-copy dirty-blonde girl. What was this, girl number seven? Eight? I lost count.
My mind, though, was racing and spinning at her words.
I don’t mind sharing…
Was that what was happening? Was she sharing my father… with me?
The rest of us…
Who are ‘the rest’ of us? Is my father fucking more women than just Tracy?
Suh-Shannon…
I was now more convinced than ever that she was about to say someone else’s name. But whose? Is that “someone” part of the ‘rest of us’? She said she liked both men and women, so was she fucking someone else too?
My world started to feel like it was crashing down, imploding. Her last words stuck in my head like an ear worm: get better… rest of us…
My father’s words began to intermix as well. Promise me… no matter what… it’s because I love you very much.
At that moment, I felt like I needed that love. For the first time in years, I wanted him to come and hold me tight, rock me in his arms. Yesterday Tracy had made me feel very special, almost like the center of the universe. Now I felt like I was nothing, small, insignificant.
A small, barely perceptible squeak jumped from my chest, and I rolled onto my side into a fetal position.
The tears came, and there was nothing I could do to hold them back.