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Author: storyace, ace

Title; Son's girlfriend

Part: 1 of 1

Summary: A father has an affair with his son's ex-girlfriend. when she starts dating the son again, he knows he should stop seeing her...

Keywords: M/f, cheat

 This is a sequel to Ballerina and the handyman

 Send any and all comments to; storyace@hotmail.com  I need response to keep writing!

 

Son’s girlfriend;

 

It was hot that day; stiflingly hot. As usual, I was last to leave the office. I went out into the reception area with my briefcase, ready to lock up and go home.

There was a woman outside the door; young and beautiful. She knocked and looked in at me hopefully.

I didn’t deal with walk in clients myself any more, but as I said, my staff had all headed for home already; and the woman was extraordinarily pretty.

I opened the door for her. Who could refuse a woman like that?

“Can I help you?”

“I need a new apartment.” She said.

She had a very light cotton dress draped across her that did little to cover her. Her breasts were small yet full, her hips narrow, and her ass tight and round. She had auburn hair tied up behind her head; she had a long thin neck accentuated by large loop earrings, and huge clear brown eyes.

“Everyone’s gone home already; I really can’t do much for you until Monday. Say; I know you! How are you, Christy? I’m sorry, I didn’t recognize you for a minute.”

“Hi, Harry.” She said, blushing slightly.

“Well come on in. It’s awfully hot outside. How have you been? You look fantastic.”

She had been my son’s girlfriend for a couple of years before he went away to college. I hadn’t seen her since they’d split up two years earlier.

She seemed so different now; a young woman instead of a gawky teenager. In a dress instead of faded jeans, with makeup around her eyes and mouth instead of the scrubbed fresh face I’d known before.

“I’ve been better, to tell you the truth. I’m in the middle of splitting up with my boyfriend.” She said, sitting down.

“I see. Therefore the need for an apartment?”

“Yes. I need to get out of his place, and there’s no way I’m going back to live with my parents.”

I knew that she was a year younger than Phil; so she was just about 18. Her skin was magnificent, pale yet perfect. It was a bit disconcerting to think that she’d been living with someone since she was 16. And I was quite sure she had been having sex with Phil for at least a year before that. Girls grow up so fast these days.

“What kind of place are you looking for?”

“Something air-conditioned!” she said.

I booted up the office computer to check for her. I seriously doubted she could afford much, but we estate agents have to be sensitive; I’d just show her some pictures and tell her the prices. It was nice and cool in the office, and I didn’t mind talking with Christy.

Could she have been flirting with me? The way those huge eyes of hers seemed to linger that extra moment each time they made contact with me just made me want to spend a little extra time with her.

“Are you still into ballet?” I asked her.

“Oh yes. I make a living at it now, I dance with the metropolitan ballet theater group.”

“Wow, I’m impressed! You must be really good.”

“At ballet, you mean.”

I laughed; “Yes, that’s what I mean.”

She smiled, getting more relaxed as she cooled down after the heat outside. “Yes, I’m a good dancer. Other than that, though, I’m really not very good at all.”

The system was alive at last.

“I only have one air-conditioned place available for rent.” I told her; “It isn’t cheap.”

She came around the desk and looked at the screen. She put a hand my shoulder as she leaned forward.

Her thumb was in contact with my neck; I could smell her young healthy scent, and at the edge of my vision, her breasts swung enticingly close to my face.

“It looks incredible! I love that kitchen, and the location is perfect, right down town near the theater.”

“But could you afford it?”

“Not on my own. Could you show it to me?”

“You mean right now?”

 “If you have time.”

I challenge any man to refuse to take such an opportunity; to take a luscious flirtatious young female into an empty furnished apartment. To just be able to spend a short time alone with her, to be her friend, to bask in her raw beauty in an intimate setting.

“Sure, why not?”

We stepped out into the baking summer evening for the brief time it took to lock up the office and open my car.

“Wow, nice car!” she said as it cooled down inside. “I’m into civilized cars.”

We talked a bit more on the way downtown; she asked about Phil, and I told her he was doing well in school.

“I really liked him, but I somehow needed someone more mature.” She told me.

“How mature?” I asked impulsively.

She laughed, slightly nervously. “Well, I went with Sam after Phil, and he’s 38.” There was a silence as I thought about what she’d told me. She had left home to live with a man more than twice her age. It seemed a bit sad.

“How old are you?” she asked.

“46.” I said.

“Hmm.” She said.

 

I switched on the airco as we stepped inside the apartment. Christy seemed to belong there, she flowed across the living room floor with a smile on her lips that seemed capable of lighting half the city. She looked into the closets, checked the bathroom, and threw herself onto the sofa.

“I love this place.” She said her big soft eyes playing me for an utter fool. “There’s something sensual about it, don’t you think?”

“You mean other than the fact that you’re in it?” I asked.

 She stretched herself, the living image of desire; openly flirting now, daring me to make an overt move. My cock was twitching just thinking of touching her, of holding her in that tender way that only lovers do. She was just teasing, I told myself, Christy had always been a bit of a teaser. I was a married man, and I still loved my wife very much; we didn’t have much of a sex life, though.

Christy’s full bosom heaved gently with her breathing, the shape of her ballerina’s physique displayed before me. I had to, I had to take my chance; if she laughed and rejected me, made a fool of an old man, at least I would know I’d tried.

I approached her, my heart pounding nervously in my ears; she looked up at me, the challenge still clear in her eyes. I leaned forward, and put my hand on the side of her angelic face. She smiled in response, and then I knew that she would be mine.

For the afternoon, or forever; whatever consequences might come of it, there was no way to stop us. I wanted her like I hadn’t wanted for 30 years, I wanted to touch her, kiss her, love her.

And I did, too.

                                    

She was 18, with the stamina of an athlete, the face of an angel, the body of a dancer, and a will to please.

 I thought of myself as someone who kept myself in good condition, and I knew I’d need all of it with Christy.

We kissed first; as the apartment cooled, we heated up. Her skin was so soft and smooth, her lips so eager to know mine.

 For ages, for millennia, we kissed; our hands became more and more bold, touching here, then there. Then everywhere.

Her light dress came away, as did my own more substantial clothing. Her long thin delicate fingers traced over my now fully erect organ.

Her breasts were warm, dry, and firm in the cold room, but between her legs she was wet and hot. She whimpered happily as I stroked her there, rubbing her young yet experienced clit with my finger at first, and then my tongue.

Her thighs seemed a bit heavy for her slim body, and they were all muscle. They wrapped around my head, frightening me as she came.

The fluid in my mouth could not lie; this 18 year old beauty had come, had had an orgasm. She wanted me, she was aroused by ME! I felt a forgotten strength growing inside of me, and an increasing confidence to match. I lifted her slim naked body in my arms, and carried her to the bedroom.

Should you have an opportunity to make love with a teenaged ballerina, all I can say is be careful. She could break you, ruin you beyond repair.

How could I go back to my wife? After Christy, after knowing the incredible delight of her, how could I live like before?

I understand now about addiction, drugs and alcohol. They must do something similar to their users to what Christy did to me.

She was sweet, incredibly sweet; her mouth, her body, her soft moans of pleasure as I caressed her.

She went down on me, she watched me with those crystal clear killer eyes as her small mouth stretched across my organ, hot and wet. The sight of my cock in her exquisite face, sliding in and out of her, as her perfect lips drove me mad, caused neurons to fire in my brain’s pleasure center until I thought I would melt.

And then I rolled her onto her back, and she stretched her long thin body below me, waiting for me to do it to her, to penetrate her tight young hole with my eager old organ.

Between her long thighs, with the tip of my cock just touching her most vulnerable point, I hesitated.

What was I doing? I had a wife, a relationship with a 25 year history. 7 years longer than the girl waiting breathlessly below me had even lived.

She was a child, a baby. It wasn’t right for me to use her like this, she had been the lover of my son! She was too young, I shouldn’t cheat on my wife...

I don’t know whether I pushed down, or she pushed up. All I know is that the tip of my cock entered her.

Her fingers gripped my neck and her gaze gripped my soul. Her angelic face filled my vision, she was all I could see. Her vaginal muscles grabbed the end on my stiff quivering dick, and that was all I could feel.

There was nothing I could do; there hadn’t been from the moment she’d knocked on the office door. Maybe somewhere on this planet is a man who could have resisted her, but that man was not me.

My cock slid into her as if her body was made for the soul purpose of possessing me. She was hot and wet inside, and her body gripped my length with a power I’d never known.

“That feels so good.” She whispered, stroking my back with her fingertips.

“It feels pretty good to me too.” I said, just holding myself there, deep within her, cherishing the sheer thrill of being coupled with a creature of such tremendous desirability. The thrill of knowing she had chosen me, it didn’t matter why; the thrill of her hot pressure and wet eyes.

Out; it had to come out, that was the price that must be paid before I could drive it in again.

She grunted as I did it to her, her little fingers gripping me as if for reassurance. Her ass lifted off the bed, meeting my thrusts halfway. I lifted up against her clit with my shaft, holding her strong slim body gently but firmly.

A gurgling sound began to escape her throat; her fingers gripped me harder.

“Oh God, Harry, Oh god! Give it to me Harry, do it for me!”

I could have died right then, and probably never noticed. The girl in my arms began to come again, this orgasm making the first one seem about as substantial as a glass of milk.

She cried out, grunting and moaning delightfully as she squeezed me everywhere, her strong young limbs grappling my heavier body. I pumped her, gave her all I had as I felt the most incredible orgasm I could remember flooding through my body and out the end of my penis, flooding her sweet young womb with my seed.

 

There was quiet afterwards; there we were, still coupled together, my large old body above her young thin one. I rolled off of her, pulling my organ out of her reluctantly. She cuddled against me, her small cute head on my shoulder, her fingers toying with my chest hair.

“That was terrific.” She said, “It was just what I needed.”

“It was pretty intense for me, too.” I said, running my hand down the length of her, to her perfect round ass.

“If I had this apartment, you could come by in the afternoons, I could make lunch for you, and we could... do it.” She suggested.

It took a moment for her proposal to soak in through my thick skull.

“I have to train in the afternoons, and dance most evenings.” She continued, filling in the silence. “You could be my sugar daddy, and I could be your nasty little girl on the side.”

I looked into her eyes; she was a nasty girl, despite her innocent appearance.

“I don’t know, Christy; you’re so young, you have so much to offer. You’ll meet someone your own age, and you’ll regret something like that.”

“I just want to dance. I don’t have time for a relationship, and all the guys at the Met are gay. It would be perfect; for me, at least.”

“I love my wife.”

“I know.”

“Despite that, I wouldn’t want you seeing other men.”

“I don’t want to see other men. Not if you can come over and do that to me on a regular basis.”

I could.

I could, and I did.

 

I lost some weight; we never got around to eating while I was there. We didn’t talk a lot, either.

Christy would throw herself on me, her lips would be on my mouth, and it was just sex sex sex until I knew I’d better get back to the office.

 

I was very careful that my wife wouldn’t have even a suspicion; I rarely saw Christy except in the daytime, when I could easily cover my tracks. The apartment wasn’t in one of my own buildings, but I covered the financial trail well.

I did love Marsha, you see. I really did, I loved to be with her, to talk to her and hold her in my arms; but we somehow hardly ever had sex.

I didn’t want to leave her, and I knew that Christy would probably leave me sooner rather than later.

I suppose a lot of readers will think I’m a scumbag, screwing such a young girl, my own son’s ex-girlfriend, cheating on my good wife. I often thought so myself; but then I would go to the apartment, and there would be Christy, my enthusiastic gorgeous lover; the doubts and guilt would flood out of me. Nothing that felt so good could be denied.

At her apartment one afternoon, she was lying on top of me with my exhausted cock shrinking slowly inside her, as  I stroked her back.

“Why me, Christy? You could have had any man you wanted.” I asked her.

“Because I wanted you, silly. I always thought you were sexy.”

“But I’m so much older than you.”

“Yes, that’s part of it. Actually, what really gets me is your voice.”

“My voice?”

“Yes, you have a great deep voice. The kind of voice that people will obey. I mean, you have a great body, for an old guy at least, but I think it was the voice that always made me hot for you.”

“So; you were always hot for me, then.”

“Since I first met you. At that barbeque over at your house, when I was only 16. I wondered what you would be like; if you’d be like Phillip.”

 My curiosity overcame my reluctance to pursue that line of conversation; “Am I?”

“It’s striking; like father like son. Except you have more control, but I guess that comes with age.”

“Why did you split up with him?”

“I couldn’t wait for him. I needed to get out of my parent’s house, and Phillip was going away to university for 3 or 4 years. I knew he’d meet some college girl anyway. I really liked him, but I needed someone who could support me.”

“Why were you so desperate to get away from home, anyway?”

“My mother was on my case all the time, ever since I was caught having an affair when I was 14. She had the poor guy arrested, and she pressed charges, too.”

“How old was he?”

“I don’t know. 30 or 35 I guess. He didn’t know I was only 14, I was an early bloomer; I was 5’9” already. I really liked him, but he wasn’t allowed to ever see me again after he got out on appeal. It was a condition.”

 

At 18, it seemed as though Christy had had more lovers than I’d had. It made no difference to me, though. I was infatuated with her.

My son, Phil, came home for the summer. I was surprised that I felt so little conflict towards him; he was my boy, my only heir. I loved him as ever.

He was sitting at dinner with his mother and I a week or so after he arrived;

“I ran into Christy today. You know, my old girlfriend.”

I quickly hid my face behind my wine glass while I regained my composure.

“How is she, dear?” Martha said, “I always liked Christy. Such a sweet girl.”

“She’s doing well. She has her own apartment downtown, she’s gotten a job as a dancer with the Met.”

“Well, I am impressed.” Martha said, “To be self supporting at her age is no small thing, and as a professional ballet dancer! You should invite her over for supper.”

That one nearly got me; I grabbed my napkin to wipe the shock off my face.

“She’s an ex-girlfriend, Martha.” I said, “Don’t you think it might be a bit awkward?”

“Well, she was friends with the two of us, as well.” Martha said.

“Actually, I’ve asked her out tomorrow night.” Phil said. “Let’s see how things go.”

Later, as we got ready for bed, Martha brought up the subject again; “I hope he gets back together with her, don’t you?”

“With who?”

“Christy, of course! She’s so lovely, don’t you think? I’d find it hard to be so friendly with some other girl Phil might bring home. But I really admire Christy, making her way alone in the world so bravely.”

I wondered what she’d think if she knew the truth; Christy made her way in the world with the financial support of one sugar daddy after another.

 

I went over to see Christy the next afternoon.

As usual, she met me with a big hug and a long kiss. Her narrow muscular hips in my hands had their normal effect on me, and my cock began to grow in anticipation of her.

“So, you went out with Phil last night.” I said.

“Yes, that’s right.” She said, pulling away.

“Where did you go?” I asked, but the question I wanted answered was a different one entirely.

“Just out for dinner. It was nice to see him again, I’d forgotten what a decent guy he is.”

“And then?”

“And then he dropped me off and went home! What kind of a girl do you think I am?” she demanded, obviously upset with me.

“I’m sorry, Christy.” I said, “I didn’t mean to upset you, it’s just something I can’t help but feel a bit sensitive about. He’s you ex-boyfriend, and my son.”

“I know.” She said, putting her arms around me again, and resting her head against my shoulder. “Don’t worry, Harry. Phil is just a friend to me, you’re my lover now.”

Her lips looked at me hungrily, so I kissed her eyes and took her to bed.

If I had any remaining doubts, they were soon gone, burned off by Christy’s hot passion. The girl was a dynamo of sex, she sucked me and fucked me, she came in my mouth and in my arms, above me and below me. I was her stage, and she danced on me to a shattering climax.

 

We took a half hour afterwards to cuddle with each other, as we always did. I kissed her forehead and stroked her cute little ass as she toyed with my chest hair.

“I love you, Harry.” She said.

I was a bit shocked; “I love you too.” I answered without thinking.

Once said, such a thing cannot be undone.

But as I picked up my shoes from the floor, I saw something ender the edge of the bed; a watch. A man’s watch. The watch I’d given Phil for Christmas two years before.

 

I went back to the office without saying anything. I wanted to give myself a little time to figure out what I wanted to do.

Phil was at his desk in the outer room; I wanted to talk to him, but he was with a client.

Later, Martha interrogated him over dinner at home, sparing me the effort.

“How did it go with Christy last night?” she asked him.

“We had fun.” He said.

“That’s all?” Martha asked with a smile.

“Mother!”

“Don’t be so uptight, Phillip. If you can’t tell us, who can you tell? Anyway, I just want you to know that we think Christy is a sweet girl, and she’s always welcome here, Right Harry?”

“Yes, of course.” I said.

 

I went to see my young mistress the next afternoon. I was pretty pissed off, I can tell you.

“I’m sorry, Harry.” She said when I confronted her with my knowledge, her eyes brimming with tears; “I didn’t mean for it to happen, I never wanted to hurt you.”

“We had an agreement, Christy! No other lovers.”

“But it wasn’t like it was just anybody! It was Phil.”

“Jesus Christ, Christy! Do you think that’s easier on me? You cheated on me with my own son!”

“Did I cheat on you with him, or on him with you?” she demanded. “I was with him first, remember!”

“That relationship was over, that was what you both had told me.”

“Well we were wrong.”

“I can’t see you any more, Christy. You know that, right?”

It was her turn to be angry now.

“So you’re dumping me, just like that? Yesterday we loved each other, and today we’re through?”

“Yesterday I didn’t know you had slept with my son.”

“Yes you did! You knew I had slept with him when I was fifteen. And the other night, we didn’t sleep together, he went home afterwards!”

“Christy, I can’t have an affair with my son’s lover.”

“I’m not his lover, I’m your lover. Please, Harry, you have to believe me, it won’t happen again, it was just a one time thing.”

She got up from where she’d been sitting, and threw her arms around me; I tried to resist her, I told myself that she was bad news, she had cheated, she had lied. She’d done it once, she’d do it again...

Her heel pressed into the back of my leg, and traveled upwards.

She held me in a close embrace as the foot continued, up to my ass, the small of my back, right up to my neck.

She wrapped her toes around my ear, and pulled my mouth against her mouth; her hot young nasty talented mouth.

“Make love with me, Harry.” She whispered, “You know I’m not the girl you want Phil to be with; I’m bad, Harry, I told you from the start. I’m not a good girl like people think I am; I know I’m not good enough for him, he deserves a decent, honest college girl.”

She kissed me again, standing on one leg while massaging my back impossibly with the other, then said; “Make love to me until I forget everything, Harry. So I only know you again.”

She was right, I realized as I pulled off her clothes. She was too devious for Phil, it took an experienced man like me to control her.

She laughed as I dragged her into the bedroom. She grinned at me as I undressed after her.

Her tight slim body embraced me, sending shivers of carnal delight through me; she was a nasty girl, if Phil went with her, she’d only hurt him.

I lay on the carpet naked on my back, toying with myself as my child lover twirled around the room, dressed only in her tutu.

Her every move was mesmerizing in its grace, the way she would slowly raise a long perfect leg above her head, then hold it there as I looked up into her exposed beauty.

She bounced expertly on her toes, then stood above me. She allowed her feet to slide slowly outwards, going into a split as she lowered herself, until her hot groin sat on the tip on my stiff waiting cock.

Smiling at me knowingly, she held her position for a moment before she lowered herself around my pole, twisting herself back and forth slightly as her feet slid farther to either side of us.

At last, her slim muscular torso sat hard against me, my cock hard and hot deep within her.

Impossibly, she lifted her outstretched feet from the floor, until she could hold her own ankles; she was balanced on my cock, her weight against my pelvis.

She rotated her legs forward, still maintaining her balance on her tight ass against my thighs. Her toes touched either side of my face, and she grinned as she squeezed my head between the balls of her feet.

Without visible effort, she returned her little feet to their former position, stretched out to the sides of us; then she tensed her powerful thighs, squeezing my cock like a velvet vise as she lifted herself gently upwards before letting herself fall on top of me again, the snowy white tutu ruffling with the movement.

She lifted, twisted, bucked, and bounced. She groaned and growled, giggled and laughed.

In the end, I grabbed her cute ankles and rolled her over backwards; then I pounded her missionary style as we came together in a great wonderful explosion of bodily excretions.

“Damn Harry, that was good.” She said afterwards; “I’ll have to piss you off more often.”

 

I had a meeting with a client, and then went back to the agency. Phil was on the phone as I went though to my office; he stuck his head in after about an hour.

“Hey Dad, I’ve got a date tonight. I’m heading home to change, I’ll see you later.”

“Ok. Who are you seeing?”

“Christy.”

I called her as soon as he’d left, but she wasn’t home, or wouldn’t answer.

Phil didn’t come home that night.

I didn’t try to call her again, and my son kept seeing her on her one night off each week.

She called me a month later when he had gone back to school.

 

“Hi, Harry. It’s me.”

“Hello, Christy.” I said neutrally.

“So are you going to come over?” she asked.

“I hadn’t thought about it. I told you how I feel, Christy; no other lovers.”

“Come on, Harry; he’s gone now. Please come over so we can talk it through. You’re still paying the rent, right?”

“Yes.”

“Then we have to talk.”

I couldn’t argue with her on that.

 

 

I was determined to break it off with Christy; she was the fuck of a lifetime, and I did love her, but I would not let anything come between me and my only son, certainly not a girl half my age.

She opened her door; she was wearing a white cotton nightgown that fell around her in a casual sexiness, her hair was not brushed.

“Come on in.” she said.

 

Phil wouldn’t be back until Christmas; and Christy wasn’t going to wait that long.

I mean, if it wasn’t me, it would be someone else, right? God, she was so sexy; her smooth strong shoulders, her firm conical breasts!

I tried to resist, but I was too weak, she was too strong. It doesn’t seem right; I’m tough, I’m wealthy, I employ six people full time. How was it possible that this slip of a girl could make me do what she wanted against my own better judgment?

 

She smirked at me as she lowered herself over my hot hard pole.

“Relax, Harry.” She said, “You love it as much as I do. Sure, I had fun with Phil; but he can’t pay my rent, and he can’t be here for me like you can.”

She sat on top of me, her breasts protruding above me, my cock deep within her young body. She squeezed me with her vaginal muscles, and smiled happily.

“Does that feel good?” she asked.

“Yes.” I admitted.

“Does your wife do that to you?” she asked, maintaining the exquisite pressure.

“No.”

She tilted her slim body forward, rolling her flat belly onto me, then her firm tits. Her fresh innocent looking teenaged face was only a couple of inches from my enslaved middle-aged countenance.

“I have to tell you something, Harry.”

“Yes?”

“Phil doesn’t do it to me like you do, either. I really like him, but he’s a lousy lover.”

Behind her childlike face lurked a quite depraved woman.

I looked up at her as she heaved herself over my stiff dick, I held her tight ass in my hands as she slid herself across me, scrapping her stiff nipples over my chest.

I had to kiss her, to feel her nasty mouth against my lips.

I rolled her over and began to give her what she wanted; what we both wanted.

She stared at my face as she came, her expression of happy tension and triumph.

“Give it to me, Harry.” She said, “Let go and give it to me. Fill me with it, Harry!”

My cock was buried in a teenaged girl who was begging me for my seed; the last of my defenses fell to her desire, and I felt that monster fluid release, the rush of orgasm shared.

My nasty young girlfriend squeezed my cock in her body and my ribs above her with all her considerable strength as we wallowed in the intensity of our pleasure; her eyes devoured me as our spasms shuddered through us, her skin so smooth and supple in my rough hands, her face that of a child, her body a woman’s, and her mind that of a devil.

 

 

And so we fell back into our routine, and several times a week I would go to her apartment during the afternoon.  We'd have lunch, a little wine, and then sex that never seemed to fade.  I don't know why or how she was attracted to me.  I looked good for a middle-aged guy, but Christy was a girl who could choose any man she wanted.

And yet she was attracted to me; when her hot body clamped my cock, the lust in her eyes showed clearly.  She just loved to do it with me, she loved every part of it.  She loved the first touch, the kiss, the penetration, the orgasms.  I think she loved the immorality of our coupling the most of all. The knowledge that it was so completely wrong, so perfectly corrupt of us, a betrayal of everyone we loved.

 

We only stopped when Phil returned for the holidays; and we were back at it the day after he returned to school.

 

The deception became easier as the years passed. I even started having sex with Christy while Phil was back from school, living with her in her apartment and working for me at the agency.

I lied to my wife and Phil with ease, unable or unwilling to give up my self-aggrandizing affair with my son’s girlfriend.

 

Christy called me on my cell phone;

“Hi Harry.”

“What can I do for you, Christy?”

“Let’s get together somewhere.”

“You know how I feel about seeing you while Phil’s in town.”

“Just for lunch... I could meet you out in that cute place in Somerville.  Come on, Harry, just for lunch.”

 “Alright. One o’clock?”

 But of course it wasn’t just lunch in the end.

 

“We need to agree on what we’re going to tell Phil about the apartment.” Christy said after we’d ordered. “I told him that my uncle helps me with the rent.”

"Oh, right." I said, and we discussed the details of our lie into the meal. 

 

“They have rooms here Harry.” Christy said over desert, coquettishly licking a bit of chocolate from her lower lip.

That smile of hers; so bright, so lovely, so irresistible. I tried, I really did; I tried to say No; but my mouth wouldn’t cooperate with my brain.

She was 6 feet 3 inches tall in high heels, she had legs that could kill a man from a distance. She took off her light dress, revealing her slim strong body to me again.

The body that made love with my own son, I reminded myself. He also held those firm young breasts in his hands, he also kissed those sugary lips. He probably loved her; who wouldn’t? What man could avoid it?

She was wearing a lacey bra that I had bought for her a year before, and the matching garter belt. Christy did about 5 fast pirouettes in the small room, her hair flying outwards. She stopped facing me, laughing; her laugh was like music, but the kind I didn’t enjoy any more. Her nipples stood proud, poking through the large holes in the centers of the cups.

I sat on the bed, and she put an ankle on my shoulder, her other strong leg easily holding her weight despite the high heel. I reached forward, between her thighs, and stroked her ass and crotch as she removed the bra.

She bent and kissed me, her foot still on my shoulder; I held her sturdy slim hips. She stood there, balancing with apparent ease, as she kissed my mouth and opened my shirt, and then my trousers.

Christy stroked my stiff dick with her pretty hands as we kissed in that unlikely position for a while, before we pulled apart to undress.

She left the garter belt and stockings on, knowing that I like that; she held her legs straight out, her ankles in her hands as I climbed into position above her.

Her vagina was stretched wide, waiting for my dick; I knew I shouldn’t, Phil had moved in with her!

Ahh, but it did feel good to be in her again. It had been so long; almost two months since he’d returned and we’d stopped doing it.

She was so perfect, her wetness and heat against my dick filling my primal being with contentment.

The way she arched and tensed as my cock slid into her, the happy noises she made; she was a slut, a fun little wanton ballerina.

She gripped my cock with her unforgettable tightness and bucked upwards against me as I fucked her, her big clear eyes the picture of happy innocence, her laughter as sweet as ice cream, and perhaps as cold.

She gripped me tightly, like a boa constrictor; her arms around my torso, her legs around my legs, and her vagina around my cock; she squeezed me, as if to force the last of my strength from me; all of my semen, all of my power, and the last of my decency. She began to groan and buck below me, and I knew the youngster I was fucking was about to come; my dick exploded within her, filling her taught slim body full of my frustration and shame.

 

Phil graduated, and moved home for good. He stayed at Christy’s apartment most nights, but had a room at home as well.

“I have an announcement.” He said to Marsha and I over dinner one night. “I’ve asked Christy to marry me, and she’s agreed.”

“That’s fantastic, dear!” Marsha said, “Have you set a date yet?”

“Not yet, Mother; one thing at a time! We’re going to keep living in Christy’s apartment in town; she likes to be near the theater.”

 

“You don’t like Christy much, do you?” Marsha said to me later, as we got ready for bed.

“Why do you say that?”

“You go all funny whenever Phil brings her over. You hardly talk to her at all.”

“I like her fine.” I said, working to cover up whatever Marsha might have observed. “I just don’t know if she’s the right girl for Phil.”

“Oh come on, Harry! She’s absolutely stunning, as sweet as honey, tall and strong and hard working. What don’t you think is right?”

I grumbled something insensible and rolled onto my pillow.

“I’m looking forward to the wedding.” Marsha continued as she turned off the light. “I want you to get a new suit, and I’m going to have that face lift.”

 

“How could you accept?!” I demanded of my cheating young mistress when I had her in private.

“He asked me, and I said ‘yes’!” she said, “I love him, he loves me, and we’re getting married.”

“You can’t do it! What happens when he sees the lease with my signature on it?”

“Shit, Harry; I’m not going to let my life be governed by a signature on a piece of paper. That’s your problem, you deal with it.”

“You know that it’s over between us, don’t you?”

“That’s up to you, Harry.”

I stared at her; what went on inside that pretty head of hers?

“When you marry my son, Christy, you become my daughter.” I told her.

She put her arms around my neck and looked me straight in the eyes; she touched my body lightly with hers.

“I look forward to it.” She said, and kissed me.

 

After the wedding, our affair ended. It was hard, at first, but it became easier with time. We did get together a few times before the wedding, though.

We met in an empty apartment I owned. I didn’t want to take any chances that Phil might walk in on us at Christy’s.

I was a bit surprised to find her in her wedding dress; long and elegant, heaven white, with a cute little headdress and a veil.

“What do you think?” she asked me excitedly.

“It’s lovely.” I said, wondering why she had gone to so much trouble. The wedding was only a few days away, I’d be seeing her in it soon enough.

“Don’t you think it’s sexy?” she asked.

“I hadn’t thought about it like that.” I said, “But yes, I suppose it is."

“Just wearing it makes me hot.” She said, turning around in it to show me more. “From the first time I tried it on, I wanted to get laid in it.”

The skirts were quite transparent. I could see the outlines of her fabulous legs through it.

“Can’t you wait until after the wedding?” I asked her.

“No.” she laughed.

“Christy...”

Then she was on me, she pounced like a hungry cat, dress and all. I was lost in the great folds of whiteness, the sweet smell of her perfume and her sweat, the unspeakable sensation of her lips.

The wedding dress was crushed between our bodies, in the heat of our sordid lust. Her stockings and suspenders were white, her vagina was pink, she wore no underwear.

I stripped off my clothes, my dick was like a telephone pole before me as she lowered her head to it.

She pulled the virginal white veil away so she could suck her fiancé’s father’s dick unhindered. She looked up at me through the gauze, her eyes big and clear, her mouth wet, hot, and dirty.

I rolled her onto her back, I lifted her skirts, I kneeled to her spread valley as she laughed with the exhilaration of our pure immorality. I pushed it into her, my son’s beautiful bride to be; I fucked her with abandon, making her come on the floor in her wedding dress three times. I let loose in her, I came in her as if she was my own instead of my son’s.

 

It was the last time; the next time I saw her was at the wedding. Phil looked so happy as they had their nuptial kiss; he loved her deeply, I realized. He loved her because he didn’t know her hidden side, the side of her that betrayed him.

 

Seven years passed; my lust for my daughter in law never completely faded, but it became manageable. We all got together for dinner at my house every Sunday, and of course for Christmas and thanksgiving. Eventually,  I could talk to her and have a laugh without seeing her naked and spread for me, without tasting her sweat, her mouth, and her vagina on my tongue all the time.

 

The two of us found ourselves alone for a rare moment in my den one Christmas; Phil and Marsha were in the kitchen.

“I sure miss the fun we used to have Harry.” Christy said quietly, sipping red wine.

“It’s a pleasant but distant memory, Christy.” I told her.

“Did you ever have another mistress after me?” she asked.

“No, dear. I was happy to leave all the stress and lies behind. Besides, I’m too old for that sort of thing now.”

“Oh come on, Harry; what are you, 55?”

“54. What about you, did you have any other lovers?”

“I can’t tell you that! You’re my husband’s father. Yes, one.  It was five years ago, I guess. It wasn’t very good.”

“How long did it go on?” I asked, curious.

“A year. He was an older man; I bet you would have never guessed. I don’t know why it went on as long as it did, I didn’t even like him very much.”

“Then why didn’t you end it sooner?”

“I guess I thought it would improve after a while. Anyway, I was glad when it was over; I do love Phil, Harry. I wanted to get pregnant, and I didn’t want to take any chances with the parentage.”

“That was five years ago; where are my grandchildren, then?”

“I’m afraid there won’t be any, Harry.”

I stared at the young woman; we had thought it was the excess training at the dance troupe, and then when she’d lost her job there [Christy was never a star, they let her go when she was too old; 23], we thought she might conceive.

“What’s wrong, Christy?”

“It’s Phil. He doesn’t even know, Harry. I took a sample from him and took it to the clinic; he has a sperm count close to zero.”

“You should have told us, Christy. What about IVF?”

“They say it probably won’t work; and I’d have to tell Phil.”

“Well so you should; why haven’t you for god’s sake?”

She looked at me levelly; “Harry, there’s only one way you can continue your line. And it would be better if Phil doesn’t know.”

“Christy...  we agreed that was over.”

“The only way you’re ever going to have grandchildren Harry, is to start from the beginning. I want a baby; I want Phil’s baby. But if I can’t have that, then there’s one other man I love and respect. I could still give birth to my husband’s brother, Harry.”

“We could do it artificially.” I suggested.

“Call me.” She said.

 

We met in a hotel room. I went into the toilet with a cup; I thought of Christy and masturbated.

“How’s it going?” Christy called out after a while.

“This won’t work.” I admitted.

My daughter in law opened the door and looked in. “This is bullshit. Come out here and get into bed.”

She was so damn beautiful; her health was perfect, she wanted my baby. I knew her, I knew her so well. She was just 26 years old.

Christy took the cup from me and set it next to me on the bed. She took my flagging old cock in her hands, and lowered her face to it.

The hot wet ecstasy of her familiar mouth was mine again; gorgeous and talented young Christy was sucking my dick after all those years of restraint.

Her big eyes stared up at me, her smooth young finger stroked me; I looked at her, and I knew that it wouldn’t be long before she would be able to fill her little cup, and then inject it into herself.

“Fuck this.” She exclaimed suddenly, sitting up.

She was right, I was thinking. This is stupid, I was too old, what were we doing here?

She stood up out of the bed and stripped off her dress before climbing back in.

“Give it to me Harry.” She whispered, climbing on top of me, grabbing my head and kissing me. “Let’s do it right; enough of this wanky panky half assed crap.”

A surge of adrenaline pumped through me, my cock inflated again, and I rolled the nasty young woman onto her back. She grinned broadly as I slid my stiff Johnson into her ready passage, she wrapped her legs around me in that memorable way of hers as I began to do what had to be done.

Her body was nearly as strong as in her dancing days; her vagina squeezed my stiff dick in that unforgettable way, clamping me within her perfect young frame.

Her big clear eyes stared through me, her breasts pressed against me, the ultimate ecstasy that was Christy once more ruled my consciousness.

Just like old times, she came, and I came with her. I gave her all I had, pumping and coming in her, not holding back in any way.

She was my lover, my daughter in law, the mother of my hope.

We met many times before she was pregnant at last. Mary Hope is now 2 years old.

Christy is 30, and is as stunning as ever. I’m 58, white haired and carrying some extra weight.

We’re trying for another child, Christy says she wants to have three or even four.

If I can keep getting her pregnant and no one finds out.

Ace 2005

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