“That’s real fucked up,” I said, smiling crookedly while my gut churned with anxiety.
“What are you kids talking about over there?” asked my pop, looking up from his paper and shifting in his seat to get more comfortable.
“Mr. Jones, would you mind if I went swimming in my underwear?” asked Brittany, then she burped loudly and I realized that she was probably a little drunk.
“Why, there’s no need for that,” stammered my dad, his face growing red with embarrassment. “I’m sure Josh’s mom has a suit that would fit you.”
“Uh, that’s a little weird to wear someone else’s bathing suit,” complained Brittany. “What’s the big deal if I just strip down to my underwear and swim in that. Would it make you nervous?” She jumped up walked toward the pool, unzipping her shorts as she went.
“No, of course not, dear,” stammered my father, his face growing even more flushed as looked at my girlfriend with her fly undone and her shorts sliding down her hips. “It’s just, not really, uh, proper. But I can go inside if you want.” He made a move to climb out of his chair, but Brittany lithely dashed over and pushed him back playfully. He fell back with a harumph and gave me a desperate look.
“Oh I wouldn’t dream of making you go inside on such a beautiful day, Mr. Jones,” pouted my girlfriend, putting her finger to her mouth. “I don’t mind if you see me in my underwear. Why you are practically my father-in-law.”
“Ha, yeah right,” I called. The sunshine beating down on me made me feel suddenly hotter and I gulped a drink of cold beer to cool myself. “I wonder what my mom would think about this.”
“Oh jeez,” exclaimed my father, wiping the sweat from his brow as his eyes travelled up and down my girlfriend’s sexy body as she stood before him with her shorts practically falling off.
“Oh I’m sure Mrs. Jones would agree that this is perfectly harmless,” laughed Brittany as she stripped off her t-shirt and handed it to my dad. He stared at her bouncing boobs, barely constrained by her lacy bra with his mouth hanging open stupidly and accepted her shirt. “But we don’t have to tell her if you don’t want to. This can be our little secret.”
“Maybe it would be best if we didn’t say anything to your mother, son,” said my father absently as he watched Brittany wriggle out of her shorts and stand before him in her skimpy bra and panties.
“Do you think I have a sexy body, Mr. Jones?” asked Brittany, running a finger inside the elastic waistband of her panties seductively.
“Fuck, Brittany, cut the shit!” I shouted, growing alarmed. My blood was pounding in my ears and I felt nauseous watching my girl flirting with my pop like that. The worst part was that the old man seemed to be completely captivated by the sight of her hot body.
“Um, you look, uh, like a very healthy young woman,” gulped my dad, unable to pull his eyes away from her jiggling breasts. “But don’t forget, I’m old enough to be your father.”
“Oh you two are such fuddy-duddies,” laughed Brittany, skipping away and jumping into the pool.
I shook my head in resignation and went inside to change into my trunks. Then I went back outside and jumped into the pool with her. We splashed each other and horsed around for a while and I was starting to relax a little bit about this whole thing.
“You shouldn’t tease my dad like that, it’s pretty weird,” I told her as we floating face to face clinging to pool noodles, breathless from all the exertion, with our hair plastered to the sides of our faces.
“Oh, come on,” she smiled. “What’s wrong with getting the old guy’s blood pumping a little bit? Besides, I think he’s sexy. He’s like a filled out and more commanding version of you, and I love you don’t I?”
“Uh, ok, that’s creepy,” I said, climbing out of the pool. I looked over to see if my dad overheard us, but he was carefully holding his paper up in front of his face.
Brittany just giggled and climbed out of the pool herself. I looked over at her and her underwear was basically transparent at this point. I could clearly see her hard nipples and her dark bush right through the thin wet fabric.
“Oh my god, Mr. Jones, look!” shouted Brittany excitedly, giving me a evil grin as she ran and stood before him.
“What’s the matter, dear?” he asked dropping his paper. “Oh shit!”
“You can see right through my underwear!” she giggled. “Aren’t I naughty? I am practically naked.”
“Um,” said my poor dad, gulping nervously as he gazed at her nubile young body, clearly unable to pull his eyes away.
“Fuck, Brittany, don’t taunt my dad like that,” I said, standing by awkwardly while she plucked at her clinging top and smiled down at my dad.
“Well, if I am being bad, maybe your dad just needs to spank me then?” cackled Brittany, and she threw herself impetuously across my father’s lap and wriggled her butt, offering up her round cheeks to be spanked.
“Sweet jesus,” gasped my dad, looking down at my girl’s inviting ass with shock and longing. “This isn’t appropriate, Brittany. Uh, you are too big for spanking.” He looked up at me with desperation in his eyes. “Josh, can you do something here?”
“Sorry, dad,” I said, jumping to attention. I ran over and grabbed Brittany’s hand and tried to pull her off my father’s lap, but she slapped my hand away and twisted around so that she was sitting upright in his lap with her arm around his shoulder. I stepped back in confusion as she sat there, soaking his clothes with her dripping body. “Come on, Brittany, cut the shit.”
“Oh, jeez, can we all just not have a cow about this right now? I just want to get to know my future father-in-law a little better,” laughed Brittany, pressing one large breast against my father’s chest and running her fingers through his hair flirtatiously.
“We aren’t even engaged,” I complained, feeling embarrassed and jealous of the way she was throwing herself at my father.
“Can’t you put your arms around me, Mr. Jones?” asked Brittany sweetly, looking into his eyes with a little pout. “I’m chilly.”
“Maybe you should jump up and get yourself a towel,” he said holding his arms out stiffly, clearly afraid to touch her bare flesh.
“I like it here on you lap,” she said, snuggling up against his chest. “Please hug me, I feel like you are rejecting me, and that’s not nice.”
“Oh brother,” sighed my father in resignation, as he gingerly enfolded my half-naked girlfriend in his arms. “I’ll hug for just a second and then you have to get up and go dry off.”
“Ok,” chirped Brittany happily. Then she wriggled her rear up against my father’s lap. “Oh my god, Mr. Jones!” she gasped suddenly. “What’s going down there? I think I feel something under my bum! Are you getting hardon? How dare you?” Brittany giggled with delight as she rubbed her rump back and forth across my father’s crotch.
“Brittany!” I shouted, aghast. “That is so fucking gross! That’s my father you are fucking with!”
“It’s not me, it’s him!” she laughed, reaching down between her legs to grab at his bulge. “Wow, he’s packing heat, too.”
“Alright, that’s enough,” said my father, his face beet red. He climbed to his feet forcefully and dumped Brittany down into the grass unceremoniously, causing her to squawk in indignation. “I’ve had about enough of your tomfoolery, young lady.” He shook his finger at her sternly as she sat looking up at him innocently.
“You are pitching a tent, Mr. Jones,” she said, pointing a finger at the huge bulge in my dad’s pants as she kneeled before him and looked up at him wide eyed.
“Uh, that’s none of your concern,” he said, deflating somewhat as he put a hand over his crotch in shame.
“I think I can help you with that,” said Brittany, slipping out of bra effortlessly and letting her sweet tits spring free.
“Holy fuck, you little slut!” I yelped in shock, amazed that she would take it this far. “My mother would slap you fucking face for this.”
“Well, goo
d thing she’s not here, then,” laughed Brittany over her shoulders as she shook her boobs for my dad.
I watched the blood drain from his face as he gaped stupidly at my girlfriend’s perfect tits, swinging back and forth.
“Believe, me, Mr. Jones. I know how to deal with a pesky hardon, just ask Joshua,” purred Brittany as she pulled my dad’s hand away from his crotch and deftly unbuttoned his shorts and unzipped his fly.
“Darling, don’t,” croaked my father unconvincingly as Brittany yanked his shorts and boxers down to his knees releasing his stiff boner which pointed right at her face. He tried to grip Brittany’s wrists to stop her, but she wriggled nimbly from his grasp.
“Wow, you have quite a piece of meat here, Mr. Jones,” she laughed, grabbing his dong by the shaft and cupping his big balls in her hand. “I like how you have grey pubes, that’s kinky.”
“Oh, god,” groaned my dad as she clamped her mouth around his sausage and started sucking hungrily on his dong. “Don’t tell your mother about this, she will kill me,” he begged, catching my eye as my girlfriend’s head bobbed up and down on his member.
“Seriously, dad? This is fucked up,” I whined, shifting from foot to foot and feeling a strange sense of arousal as I watched my girl sucking my father’s dick.
“I know it, son,” he grunted while Brittany eagerly tongued his shaft and flicked her tongue over his glans. “I think Brittany has had a little too much to drink.”
“I’m not that drunk,” complained Brittany, tugged on my dad’s shaft for emphasis. “I’m just a healthy, horny 24-year old who finds her boyfriend’s distinguished looking father to be seriously sexy.”
“Ok, that’s enough, dear,” said my father, getting up the resolve to push Brittany back gently.
“What’s the matter, Mr. Jones? Have I been a bad girl?” asked Brittany with a coy smile. She spun around on all fours and pulled her sodden panties down to offer her ass to him. I could see her swollen labia poking out between her milky thighs and my dick jumped to attention. “Maybe I need that spanking after all.” She looked back over her shoulder at my stand standing there with a raging hardon and wiggled her ass invitingly.
“Goddamit, Brittany, you little minx!” scolded my father, gripping his pulsing member in one hand while he looked down at my girl’s enticing twat. He bent over and slapped her bare ass awkwardly, but she just cooed and reached back to spread her labia for him, coaxing him to fuck her. “Why you shameless hussy, I will show you!” he panted, dropping to his knees in the grass behind her and prodding the head of his cock into her waiting slit.
“Oh Mr. Jones!” she gasped, tittering with delight.
“Dad, come on!” I cried, my own boner pitching a tent in my swim trunks while I watched my dad get ready to bone my girl.
“I’m sorry, son, but I just have to teach your little woman here that her actions have consequences. She can’t go around teasing grown men like that, or she is going to get herself fucked,” he grunted as he pushed the head of his dick inside Brittany eliciting a passionate moan from my slutty girlfriend.
“Jesus, Dad!” I complained, gripping my rod while my pops grabbed my girlfriend by the hips and started pounding her from behind.
“Omigod, Josh, your Dad is totally going for it,” gasped Brittany, looking up at me playfully and biting her lip in a show of arousal. “This is kinky as fuck!”
“Watch your language, young lady,” panted my dad as he pumped his cock in and out of my girlfriend.
“Oh, wow you are really playing up the daddy thing, that’s so hot,” gasped Brittany. “Fuck me daddy, fuck me.”
“Oh shit,” cried my father as he plunged his dick deep into Brittany and panted.
“Fuck, Dad, are you cumming inside her right now?” I demanded indignantly.
“Uh, yeah,” admitted my father with a guilty look on his face. “Well she had it coming!” he said defensively when he saw the look of betrayal on my face.
“Don’t pull out yet, I’m almost there,” said Brittany urgently as she worked her own clit.
“Bad girl!” said my father, slapping her ass sharply to play along.
“Ugh, yeah, there it is,” groaned Brittany as she shuddered from her climax.
My father pulled out of her gingerly and stood up shakily, I had to run over and help him up so he didn’t fall over because of his bad knee.
“Wow pops, thanks a lot for fucking my goddamn girlfriend,” I said angrily as he struggled to his feet.
“I’m sorry, son, you are right, that was totally uncalled for,” admitted my dad, with a look of deep chagrin. “A man my age should have more self-control. I let you and your mother down just now.”
“Oh god, cry me a river,” laughed Brittany, struggling to pull her wet panties back up. “You loved it and you know it.”
“Brittany, you are an unbelievable slut,” I said, in amazement as she crawled around, looking for her bra.
“Oh, lighten up, it’s just a friendly shag, it’s not the end of the world,” she sniffed, giving up on her bra and pulling her t-shirt and shorts on.
My dad sat down and pulled his own shorts back on and then stared glumly down between his feet.
Brittany saw his dejection and I could tell that a brief flash of remorse crossed her face. “Oh jeez, Mr. Jones. Don’t get all down about it. I mean, Mrs. Jones never needs to know.”
“Fuck,” I said, shaking my head at her. “But she’s right, dad. I sure as hell don’t wanna tell mom about this. She would flip out. We better keep this our little secret.”
My father looked up at me with a dismal expression and I would swear he was on the verge of tears which freaked me out since I had never seen him like that. “Perhaps, perhaps it’s best if you mother never finds out about this. It would only hurt her,” he agreed tiredly.
“Great, well since we aren’t telling Mrs. Jones about any of this, I might as well come back tomorrow in my Catholic school girl uniform and get a proper spanking,” said Brittany with a twinkle in her eye.
“Now see here, young lady,” intoned my father, jumping to his feet and shaking a fist at her. “Don’t push your luck.”
“Ha, ha, yeah, well I’ll see you tomorrow then Mr. Jones,” laughed Brittany as she blew him a kiss and skipped away.
My dad and I exchanged a look and I could tell from the guilty expression on his face that he would be letting her in the house when she knocked on the door tomorrow.
My wife became a stripper
I have a painful story to tell, so please bear with me. My name is John Goodson, and I worked as an accountant for many years at various non-profits. Well, the recession of 2008 put a lot of strain on the non-profit world, and I found myself laid off. I tried finding for a long time, but it seemed that my skills were out of date and I simply couldn’t find a job. I decided to take a class in QuickBooks but it didn’t help. Meanwhile my wife, Sarah, took at job at the library, but it paid very little and we were starting to get worried as we dipped deeper and deeper into our retirement accounts.
One day my brother Ed and his wife Candy were over for dinner and we were discussing the problem.
“So wait, how much do you make at the library?” asked Candy as she and Sarah cleared the plates from the table.
“Oh boy, don’t ask,” chuckled my wife, shaking her head.
“Honey, you’ve got such a marvelous figure, we should get you a job as a cocktail waitress,” gushed Candy, tapping Sarah’s leg for emphasis.
I grimaced at Candy with distaste. I hate to say it, but she was a very low class woman and our entire family was mortified when my brother married her. They had met at a strip club where Candy had been working as a dancer and our sister, June simply refused to attend the wedding at all, she was so scandalized. But Ed and I were close, and I understood that he was really too awkward and shy to meet women through more normal channels, so I forgave him. Still, his wife was difficult to deal with sometimes.
Sarah just laughed
in response to Candy’s suggestion. “Candy, dear, I’ve never waited tables. I simply am not qualified.”
“Oh nonsense, darling, those boobs of yours are all the qualifications you are going to need.”
Ed laughed out loud as Sarah touched her breasts thoughtfully, weighing them in her hands.
“Pretty hefty knockers,” blurted out my brother, his face turning red with excitement. He always did have a bit of Tourette’s syndrome and was prone to involuntary and inappropriate comments.
Candy guffawed with glee at her husband’s rude comment, but Sarah just smiled at me and shook her head. She knew how Ed got sometimes.
“My breasts are none of your concern, Ed. You have a wife of your own who is perfectly well-endowed,” said my wife. “But really, Candy, can we change the subject? I mean, I’m no prude, but I can’t really see myself working in a bar wearing a little dress at my age.”
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