The weather was perfect. It was 83 degrees that afternoon. The sun made everything appear shiny and new. This year promised to be one of the greatest years ever. I was 19 years old and planned to start college within a few weeks. I was going for my nursing degree. I always wanted to be a nurse. My mom is a nurse and my dad is a doctor. That was actually how they met. He was doing his residency at her hospital. Afterward he found a position at another hospital but they kept in touch and the rest, as they say, is history.

 

 

The door slammed behind me with force. The springs were coiled too tight and dad had yet to fix it. Not that he was much of a handyman to begin with, but he did pretty well, considering. Mom feared that one day all that slamming would jar the window in the frame, forcing it to break, making the problem worse and more expensive to solve. Her theory was not unfounded.

 

I walked into the kitchen and there was mom, browsing the paper for coupons. She was a wiz at that sort of stuff, saving us hundreds of dollars a year with her little shopping habit. I leaned over and kissed her. I love my mother, very much. She has been the greatest mother. I have a relationship with her that I knew many of my friends didn’t have with their mothers.

 

We were friends, very close friends. You would think that closeness would be reason enough for me to stop from doing the things I do with her husband when she is unaware. I am abusing her trust, I know, yet I do it anyway. I do it because I like what I do at night with her husband, when no one else is around. I like the badness of it. No man affects me the way he does. No man has ever made me nearly pass out from the pleasure of his touch, his very presence. No man is like my daddy.

 

I reached into the refrigerator and pulled out the orange juice. Reaching for a glass I filled it. He’s my father — flesh and blood — and I do love him as deeply as I desire him. If you knew our history you might find yourself angry on my behalf. Our relationship started way earlier than it should have, if at all. It was seduction. That is what it was, a seduction. Who seduced whom, I can’t really tell you. Who was the true aggressor of the relationship? I can’t tell you that either, but I do know that I am no longer a child with the label of innocence being my excuse.

 

Yet, in a lot of ways, it still was innocence. After tightening the lid I put the juice back in the fridge. With as many lines we have crossed, as many boundaries we have repositioned, we have yet to make love. Well, we have never had sexual intercourse. I wasn’t sure we ever would. Sometimes I think that is part of the magic between us, the knowledge that we are so close — so close — that all it would take is a little slip, a slight slide and then it would finally end. He would be inside me and we would finally do the unthinkable. We’d finally step over the edge. But we never do. No matter how much it hurts, and no matter how much we want we still keep the control. We never make the final step.

 

I stopped by the hall desk and looked at the mail left on its top. Credit card bills. Car insurance. The usual. No one writes letters anymore. So what if all my friends live within 5 miles of me? Still, would it hurt to pick up a pen sometime rather than a phone?

 

I entered my room and removed my coat. I flinched in surprise. I’m a little sore from my encounter. I feel the moisture accumulated between my legs, the trapped pussy juice. Stripping, I head for my private bathroom and turn on the shower. Hot. Good for the muscles. I greet my reflection in the mirror. Damn. I’m a mess. It’s a good thing my mother never took her eyes off the coupons in the paper. If she had she would have surely known…. It was so obvious. I had sex all over me.

 

Reaching over, I tested the water. Perfect. Turning toward the door I grabbed the shower cap on the hook on the back and shoved my hair underneath. Oh god. My puss. It has been a while since I’ve been fucked like that. Turning, I lifted my leg to enter the shower and I felt the stickiness glide down my legs. There was more moisture than usual, so I looked down.

 

I looked down.

 

“Oh shit!”

 

“What? What is it?” I turned to face him, though I didn’t open my eyes.

 

“Nothing.”  I heard the snap of the condom as he pulled the rubber off. I opened my eyes just as he flung it somewhere over his shoulder.

 

“Is something wrong?”

 

“Nah. It’s cool. Don’t worry about it. I’m sure it’s nothing. Come here…”

 

He reached out and pulled me close and kissed me — a tender kiss. I was surprised. It was actually…nice.

 

“That was fun… maybe we can do this again.”

 

There! There on my thigh! Juice — sticky juice, sticky MILKY juice — was trailing down my leg. My juice isn’t milky. My juice is clear! The condom broke. The condom broke and the motherfucker never even told me!

 

Oh my god. Oh my god. I need to relax. I need to remain calm. It may not mean anything. It’s too early to tell. It may not mean anything. I climbed into the shower and let the water wash away the evidence of my guilty pleasure. I’m not even on the pill. I know, I know. How could I not be on the pill, a girl my age? I just…never got around to it. My doctor inquired but I never made the appointment. It didn’t seem important. I always use condoms. Always. I never had one break.

 

Let me see. My last period was…one…two…two…weeks ago. Shit. Well. That still may not mean anything. I’m irregular. It’s not an exact science. I’ll not worry until I have to. Instead I think of more pleasing things… I think of…him. My father. My daddy. My…lover?

 

My relationship with my father has always been ‘different,’ for lack of a better term. We have always been extraordinarily close. I’m not going to lie, our relationship has sexual undertones, and I admit it. But I didn’t always admit it, and there was actually a time when I could honestly say I didn’t know it. To be that innocent again. My father is what you might call a breast man. Our relationship was actually the normal type of father daughter relationship, that is until I began to change and that change became directly proportional to the change in our relationship. That change is referred to as puberty.

 

I got my first period around eleven and when I was thirteen I began to develop breasts. My father noticed instantly and made a comment to my mother that I would need a training bra. The very next day mom took me shopping. At that time, his attention was very limited. His behavior was limited to stares and a comment on the fit of a shirt. The looks weren’t perverted or anything. They were often very brief and barely noticeable, at least in the beginning.

 

As time went on, my breasts grew, as did the attention my father paid to them. Subtle stares at first, like I said. He and I were actually close despite the fact that he worked late, sometimes not coming home until after ten. After coming home, he would come in my room. Around that time I would be finishing up my homework or preparing my clothes and such for the next day. Sometimes he would sit at my desk and we would talk about our days. This was the time he found out what was going on in my life. We rarely had time in the mornings and weekends were rare, too, because of his schedule, but the evening — the evenings were ours.

 

Over the next three years, I was more than a little aware that my father’s obsession with my breasts was not normal. I was also at that age when I became more aware of my body and the power it provided me. It was a time of sexual awareness and awakening. Boys were intriguing, but they were still boys, inexperienced and just as lost as I was, but my father, his stares were different. His stares held knowledge and with that knowledge I found myself wanting…aroused. I began to love his attention, so much so I began to seek it, welcome it, draw it to me and I would do so in my room, during ‘our time.’ It would be in the clothing, sometimes the lack of. Nothing too elaborate. I wore thin tops, tops that vividly showed the outline of my curves.

 

“How was your day, baby girl? Did you do well on that social studies exam?”

 

“I think so.” I picked up my pink sweater from the bed and placed it on a hanger. Moving to the closet, I found a spot for it and gathered more hangers for the rest of the clothes on the bed.

 

“I mean, I feel like I answered most of the questions correctly. I should get a B at least.”

 

“That’s good.” He picked up the giant troll sitting at the corner of my desk. Flashy, I called him. He was your standard ugly troll with fiery red hair that stuck right up into the air like Don King’s famous do. Daddy bought him for me two years ago when I was on a troll fetish like most of the kids in my school. I outgrew the fetish but I still loved Flashy. I often used him to store my bracelets and such around his neck.

 

“You did laundry today, I see.”

 

“Yes. I should be finished here soon.”

 

“No, it’s okay. I don’t mind. I can be patient.”

 

I said nothing, but continued placing clothing on hangers. I didn’t know what to say. He rarely admitted that what we did was done simply for his enjoyment.

 

“What ever happened with that boy?”

 

“What boy?”

 

“The one you had a crush on.  What was his name?  Patrick?”

 

“Oh, yeah. I’m so over him. He’s into Charice Summers, anyway. There is actually this new guy and school that I think is kinda cute.”

 

“New guy?”

 

“Yeah, he transferred here. I think his parents moved from California. His name is Chris. We have math together and he is soooooo smart.” 

 

“Hmmm.” He set the troll back on the desk and interlaced his fingers as he watched me move — as he watched my breasts. I knew he was looking and I felt my tips tighten. I felt them become hard, and as they tighten, they became very visible. I wore no bra. I never wore a bra in these tops. I know he saw them harden. He knew.

 

“What?”

 

“I don’t think I like the way you move from liking one boy to liking another just like that.” He snapped his fingers.

 

“Oh, Daddy. Please. Nothing is going to happen. You say that now, but you’ll probably still be upset if I fell for only one boy and didn’t lose interest quickly. Then my feelings would be a bit more real.”  I hung up the last of my clothes. I wore a small, powder blue, spaghetti strap top and panties. The panties were boy shorts; they curved around my hips, molding my body, meeting the end of my top. On occasion as I moved a space would open up between the two fabrics and my belly button would peak out. “But you know that will never happened, right? No one can ever replace you.” I smiled at him then.

 

“True. I couldn’t stand the idea of my little girl liking some boy and never having time for me.”

 

“Daddy.” I moved to where he sat. His thighs spread and the bulge in his pants was more than obvious. He stopped trying to hide it a year ago. I wrapped my arms around his neck. His fingers unlocked and found the slenderness of my waist. He pulled me close and buried his face between my breasts. I have already reached my fullest size, a 36D. We said nothing. I just combed my fingers through his hair as he rubbed his face in the valley between my breasts, inhaling my scent. Then slowly he moved his head back and forth across my breasts, his whole face pressing into my curves. Occasionally his mouth would open and I would feel the heat of his breath through the fabric.

 

I was so wet. My pussy burned with the pain. My heart was beating out of control. I closed my eyes and held on to his head and let him do as he pleased. His lips encircled my nipple, not moving, just resting around the nub enclosed in cotton. I felt the constant pressure of his lips around my nipple, waiting, waiting for his next move. But there was no next move. Instead he rested. He pressed his face into my breast breathing his hot breath on my nipple, making it hard and achy. Sometimes, in moments like these when he was touching me, yet…not, I thought I was on the edge of nutting. I was so close. I was so turned on, waiting, writhing and wanting.

 

I wanted to cry out and beg, ‘please daddy, please suck my nipple, play with it, suck it, suck it daddy, pull my top off and suck them.’ But I never did say those words.  I never had the courage. I was afraid of what would happen if I did say those words. Instead I stood there with his lips wrapped around my breast, my nipple. He would hold me close, moving to one breast then the other, back and forth until they were overly sensitive from the contact of his face and cotton of my top. Then after a few minutes of doing this he would push me back and stand. This usually meant he would leave now. But before he would go, he would stare into my eyes.

 

“You know I love you, don’t you?”

 

“Yes, Daddy. I love you too.”

 

“You know I could never hurt you, don’t you?”

 

“Yes, Daddy.”

 

It was always the same. Then he would lean down and kiss me. His mouth would cover mine. It was a closed mouth kiss but his lips engulfed mine completely. My pussy would scream at this point. But I said nothing. And after that quick good night kiss he would leave me. 

 

Other times, it would be different. Sometimes he would come in my room and we would only talk.  Other times, not too long after my monthly flow ended and he would run a series of ‘tests’ to check my body’s healthiness. The first test would be a breast examination, through my top, checking for lumps or abnormalities. It was the same here too. I would be in my top and panties. He would sit me on his lap, facing him. My thighs would be spread, stretched out on either side of his as he sat in the chair. His dick would be between us. My wet panty-covered puss would sometimes rest against his hard pants-covered cock, but not always. The examination started off a lot like they tell you it should, he started on the outside of my curve and pressed firmly in slow circles moving along my breast, feeling for lumps, moving toward my nipple. At first I really do believe the examinations were true ones. But once he knew for sure they were fine, his touch would change.

 

His hands would enclose my whole breasts, one in each and then he would lift them and squeeze, almost to the point of pain. He didn’t always squeeze with such force; he used to be much more gentle, but he and I both soon learned I responded more when he examined them more aggressively, squeezing and stroking them.

 

And my nipples. This was the time I loved the most. This was the time he really paid attention to my nipples. He would put them between his fingers and squeeze them, trap them, work them and twist and turn them. I loved it. It drove me crazy. I would close my eyes and lean back as far as I comfortably could and thrust them out to him so he could play and squeeze and stroke my whole breasts and I loved it. Sometimes he would also sink his face to my chest and rub his face against them, wrapping his lips around my nipples without closing them around it, but sometimes he would leave his fingers there and it would be like he was tonguing them, almost. His hot breath would be there and his fingers would be squeezing them and I would move, I would rock, slow gentle rocking, just enough to get my juices flowing as the cotton of my panties rubbed against my clit.

 

Once a month would be the only time this would happen. The only time he would manipulate my breasts with such force and the only time he would let me move against him. Once a month and no more. After a while he would stop touching me, touching my breasts and move on to the other examination, the test that made it almost mandatory that I become wet. This test, just like the breasts examination, was based on pure bullshit, only more so. This test required him to taste my pussy juice. He said the taste of the pussy juice told him whether or not my pussy and my feminine organs were developing properly, so this test was very important.

 

Ironically, the test once did properly detect the beginning of something. He said it tasted extra tangy than usual, so the next day he took me to an OB/GYN and we learned I was at the beginning stage of a mild yeast infection. I assumed it was because my panties sometimes pressed up against me too high. After a few days I was fine and I passed next month’s test.

 

The test was very simple. I would stay on his lap, like I did for the breast exam, but he would turn us toward the desk so my body would be trapped between it and him.  My legs would remain spread but I would bring them up to rest on the arms of his chair. This position would have left me fully opened and exposed to him if it weren’t for my panties — soaking wet panties.

 

“You know what to do.”

 

Taking a deep breath I would slip a hand into my panties and would begin playing with my clit, to bring forward more moisture. He would just lean back in his chair and watch as my hands moved under the cotton fabric, up and down. With him staring hard it was almost as if he could see right through the cloth. He could see my fingers wrapped around my hard little button. He would watch and I would watch him watch me. He would never meet my eyes during this time. Only at the very end. He would sit back, sometimes gripping the chair as he focused on the movement beneath my panties. And it would build, the lust in my body, as my daddy would watch me play with my pussy right before him.

 

And as it built, I couldn’t help it, the noises would come. Not just the squishy wet noise of my flesh rubbing against one another, but the noises from my mouth that I couldn’t control.

 

“Oh Daddy. It feels so good. Ahhhhhhhhhhh. Daddy. Oh Daddy.”

 

My breathing was the hardest thing to control. I needed air. Oxygen was sparse. He did nothing, he said nothing, he just watched, breathing out of control himself as I moved my hips, humping my hand, humping the air as the feelings built, as the cum rose through my body. Sometimes, only sometimes, he would let go of the chair and touch me when I was having particular trouble finding my way over the edge. His hand would find my button through the fabric of my panties and squeeze the little bud until I lost all control. And you see I had to cum, that is where the juice came from, he said. It had to be cum juice, not just regular pussy juice. I had my very first orgasm doing this with my daddy. I started masturbating a year after my first period, but I didn’t have the patience to stick with the touching until I learned what was at the end. Hell, I didn’t even know there was an end, until the exams started a year later.

 

So I humped, performing for my daddy, providing him with pussy-cum juice so he could drink. Loving the feel of fire running through my body as he watched me. Slowly, slowly it rose, washing my body with energy and light. I lost my breath as my body tightened and my pussy pumped its juice, its nectar from my achy wet slime filled hole.

 

“Daddy,” I cried. The tear that rolled down my cheek was cool to my heated skin. Sometimes it was all too much. I lay there for a minute, catching my breath. Then I felt him move against me. He would move sometimes between my legs and the hardness in his pants would find my heated center and move against me, back and forth and the sensations were ten times greater than any I felt before and then I would lose myself as my world became a thing of beauty and light….  Well, maybe not light, but it felt really really good...

 

I got out of the shower and went back to the bedroom to change into a tank top and some old comfy baggy pants as the memories came sailing back. They left a warm, fuzzy feeling in the middle of my chest, not to mention a few other places. I grabbed my latest Ted Dekkar novel, White, the wonderful conclusion to an amazing trilogy and quickly lost myself in the adventures of my favorite fictional hero to date. Not too long after there was a knock at the door. I looked at the clock; it was only a little after 9 p.m. Maybe dad came home early.

 

“Come in.”

 

My mother stuck her pretty head in. “Hello, baby. Leftovers are in the fridge. I’m about to head out to the Super Wal-Mart for some last minute shopping. Want to come?”

 

“Oh, no, it’s okay. I got this book I’m dying to finish. Be careful.”

 

“Of course. Want anything?”

 

“Anything chocolate.”

 

“All right.” She laughed and away went her head. I heard the car pull out of the driveway not too long after. My mother was a Super Wal-Mart addict. Yes, she actually went grocery shopping at night and she’s not alone. There were times she would drag me outside 2 o’clock in the morning and the store would be crowded with people, shopping with their toddlers in tow. Made no damn sense to me. But there were times when her little ‘time saving’ habit would be very convenient to a little girl and her daddy. A few chapters later, when the story was become a tad bit boring. I heard a car pull in. I looked at the clock. Tossing the book aside I ran out the door and flew to the stairs. 

 

He walked through the door, placing his briefcase on a table beside the couch. He went to the kitchen and grabbed a beer, then found a comfortable spot on the sofa and turned on the television.

 

I walked down stairs and stood in front of him, a little to the side. “You didn’t come to say hi.”

 

He looked up and smiled. He looked tired.

 

“Hey, baby.” He began undoing his tie under the white doctor coat. “I was going to. Honest. I usually come to you after your mother has went to bed, but it looks like she is out.”

 

“Wal-Mart. Left about thirty minutes ago, give or take. Probably be gone for another forty-five or so.”

 

“Ah. Want a beer?”

 

“No.”

 

He took a swig and sighed. Pure pleasure. I reached out and softly ruffled his hair. Dark brown curls with random streaks of gray. Reruns of Seinfeld started to play across the screen. His looked so inviting — strong, full, masculine, sexy. Giving in to the call inside my body I leaned over suddenly, like a cobra striking its target and my teeth sank into his jaw line — hard. He froze, flinched and carefully turned his face toward the pressure. My teeth skidded around his skin as he moved; losing ground by the 5 o’clock shadow that began to form. Finally he was free and he looked into my eyes, surprised; yet… there was more.

 

My body began to melt. I looked back down and could see my teeth marks on his skin. I leaned in again, but he pulled back. I smiled. I laughed. I leaned in once more, slowly this time. I opened my mouth, puckered it so when I kissed him, he felt soft, wet plumpness. I kissed his chin, ran my tongue against its roughness and sucked his chin in my mouth. I practically growled from the pleasure. And he let me. He watched me, looking into my eyes as I nibbled his face. I got so excited. I was so excited and he wasn’t doing anything. He was just sitting there. Sitting there, smelling so masculine, looking so sexy. Lust came from nowhere. I didn’t understand it. It was as if I hadn’t already been fucked today. I needed more. I needed him.

 

I began to moan slightly. Very slightly. You could barely hear it, but I couldn’t help it. I became so horny, so fast. I reached up and I pulled my oversized shirt down, baring my breasts for him. He loved my breasts, I knew. I began to squeeze them, play with them, and mold them. I captured my nipples and began twisting. He looked down, watching me stimulate myself. As he moved his face, my lips and teeth moved along it, kissing and sucking on his cheek. Biting and eating him alive. I couldn’t stop. I just wanted to devour him. I went a little crazy with it, pumping and squeezing my plump mounds. They were so soft and bountiful. The feel of my hands on my body was bringing me to a whole new level. I was turning myself on with my touch — my touch and his taste.

 

“Daddy. Please…”

 

He reached out.  His hands replaced mine and he took over, squeezing my breasts. Finding my nipples, he trapped them between his forefingers and thumbs and applied the perfect amount of pressure.  I grunted as my head reared back and I closed my eyes. Sensations of lust spread throughout my body. My pussy began to flood as he tugged my nipples, stretching them away from my body. It was a delicious pain. I groaned and began lifting my hips, begging…begging… I couldn’t stop the moans. His hands released his captives and moved down to my hips. He lifted me up and swung me around. My arms reached out in surprise, finding his shoulders for support. He adjusted me onto his lap. I spread my legs on either side of his. A moist tongue flickered against my tight buds. Sharp teeth added the extra edge I always seem to need. There was a strong vibration moving throughout my sensitive, plump pillows as my father moaned his pleasure at my taste, at the feel of me in his mouth. That is what he always loved, the feeling of me filling his mouth, feeding him, quenching his thirst and need for my forbidden body. 

 

He gripped both breasts at once, mashing them together, and pulled both nipples into his hungry hole. I nearly lost my damn mind. Both sucked at once. It drove me crazy and I felt myself needing escape. I grabbed his head and tried to push him away but he held on tight. Sucking. Sucking. Sucking. I began mewing pitiful cat-like sounds. I felt like I was being tortured with the pleasure. His sucking was so intense, his desire so strong, his cheeks clasped inward from the pressure and his jaw line ached, but I loved it and needed more. So did he apparently. He pulled my pants from my body. The fabric was like paper; my panties might as well not have been there. The movement freed the heated scent of my arousal, surrounding us with its musky sweetness.  With pants gone, panties led astray, reservations burned away and thighs spread, he pulled me closer to his body and my hot cunt found the starched white shirt he wore, soaking it helplessly. My tits bounced as he quickly released them from his mouth.

 

He looked over my body. His hands roamed my hot flesh, feeling every inch of my body and its softness. His hands glided with ease, due to the slight film of moisture coating me. I could only imagine what I looked like, sitting there spread across his lap, breasts pushed through the neckline of my shirt, pushed together, red and bruised from his attention. Thighs spread, moist shiny lips, gleaming oily and bright, spilling on his pants. His fingers sought that secret wet spot, finding my clit and swirled around the red brown button, causing me to jerk in rapid sensation with the intense feelings surging through my body. Turning his hand so it cupped the upper mound of my pussy, he shoved all four fingers in my cunt with no preparation. I screamed in surprise and pain as my body stretched to support him. The surprised cause my pussy to contract and squeeze, forcing his fingers together. But in the end his hands proved stronger than my pussy walls as he forced me open and the thrust of his hands sent me spiraling out of control. I jerked my hips up, harder and harder, working it so he hit that spot, that g-spot, working it, fucking it, using it to my advantage until the waves that crashed over me rocked my world into utter chaos.

 

I was crying deep retching sobs. It felt…I don’t know what I felt. It was all too much. I needed this, oh so much. The tears began to dry on my face as I came down from my high. My head was resting on his shoulder but I had no memory of how I got into that position, but I did know I was in my daddy’s arms and he was gently holding me, like he always does. He asked me if I were ready. I lifted my head slightly and then sank back down. I said yes, not knowing what I agreed to. Daddy turned me and I felt my world tilt. He put me on my back on the couch and moved over me, hunching almost. My thighs were spread again and I felt cold pussy juice travel down the crack of my ass. Then he kissed me. A tender, sexy, deep kiss that spoke of passion and love and made me feel incredibly special and wanted. I loved my daddy’s lips; they were juicy and strong. I was so relaxed. I felt my soul began to drift. I think I was falling asleep when suddenly—

 

My eyes opened with shock and my body jerked in surprise. I gasped. He paused and looked me deep in my eyes. It was silent, completely silent. Our breaths mingled and he leaned down and gave me a soft peck on the lips. My thighs were spread wide, my daddy laid between them. His zipper was undone and the fly was wide open. I felt his public hair against my raw pussy lips. My clit was crushed flat. Deep. Deep inside my body, inside my cunt, my pussy, my twat was daddy. He was speared in deep, deep inside me for the first time ever. Ever. 

 

I didn’t understand. Why? Why now? He continued to give me butterfly kisses. His hand moved between our bodies and he found my clit, but as much as I wanted him, as much as I was feeling the magic of the moment I don’t think I had it in me to have another nut. But he, he was so gentle as he stroked that little nub, back and forth. So gentle. No rush. No hurry. Just a slow flow of feeling. He didn’t move. His body didn’t move. He didn’t thrust. He didn’t push. He didn’t withdraw. He didn’t rock. He just rested inside me. He was simply there, filling me, pressing against my blood-filled lips. Around and around and around his fingers twirled their magic until I felt my body respond. A quickening filled me and with very little warning other than that my body tightened with tension and my back arching, my pussy convulsed and my thighs tightened hard. Hard. I lost my breath as I began cumming quietly and intensely around his cock. He moaned at the feeling, burying his head in the crook of my neck. I barely felt the bite that left what would later scar.

 

“I need you,” he said.

 

He moved from me then, taking the heat with him. He pulled from me. I felt…empty? He was hard and wet. He sat there on his calves with his dick poking out, waiting… I lifted myself and pulled back from him, my thighs sliding across his hairy ones.  I worked my way around him, and managed to get on my knees in front of him. Then, bending low, I took his dick into my mouth. The space I was in was small so my body was pressed close. My nipples met my thighs as my ass stuck up in the air. I opened wide and took his cum-filled cock, his pussy juice-coated cock, into my mouth and sucked him. My fingers reached down and cupped his balls and gently massaged them. I stroked the hard little spot between his balls and his ass, pressing deep as my tongue whipped and lashed his shaft over and over, and over again, until his deep heartfelt groan filled my ears and his salty seed filled my mouth. I swallowed as much as I could, but at this point I was past exhaustion and upon releasing him I curled up in my little spot and gave into the abyss that called out my name.

 

*****

 

 

Month One - Wednesday, 9:47 am.

 

“Okay…. wait. One more time. 1, 2, 3…14…21…28…32.

 

“No that can’t be right. Again. 1, 2, 3... oh god. I’m late. Damn it. I’m late.”

 

*****

Month Two - Monday. 12:22 pm

 

“Congratulations. You’re going to be a mother.”

 

“Are you sure, Dr. Washington? Perhaps it’s just stress.”

 

“No. You’re about 7 weeks now.”

 

“Oh…”

 

“Brianna? Is this okay news?” Concern filled his voice.

 

“Yeah. Yeah. I guess. I mean…. I guess.”

 

“Do you have any questions?”

 

“I don’t think so. I mean… no, not now.”

 

“I tell you what. I’ll give you some literature containing ‘options.’ Read it over and see which choice best fits you. Okay?”

 

I took a deep breath. “Okay.”

 

“Are you going to tell your parents?”

 

“Guess I’m going to have to.”

 

“If you like, we can arrange a meeting. You and your parents can come to the office and you can tell them here. That way I can answer any questions they may have.”

 

I laughed. “They are both in the medical field; what can you tell them they don’t already know?”

 

“True, but I thought perhaps that would be easier on you.”

 

I sighed. “Thank you, doc. It’s okay. I can do it.”

 

“Well if you change your mind…”

 

“I won’t, but thank you.”

 

*****