It's Just a Game!

As my orgasm subsided I fell right down on my belly. Dad's cock popped out of me and it felt like a river of cum was running out of my swollen pink pussy lips. Before I knew what was going on Dad had grabbed my legs and flipped me over onto my back.

Looking down at me he said, "You sure do like cock don't you?"

Looking back up at him I shook my head "yes" as I was thinking, what in the hell was Trent doing out there? Why is he letting this man have his way with me? Then looking down at Dad's cock I couldn't believe that it was still hard! Unlike Trent who once he cums we have to wait a while before he's up and hard again, Dad was still hard and ready to go again.

He moved between my wide spread legs again and lined his hard cock back up to my now super sloppy pussy slit. Again I moaned helplessly, "No Dad, please no, no more."

But Dad just smiled and said, "Just one more sweet fuck for the road baby doll." And he slowly started pushing his big hard cock back inside my wide open wet pussy.

It only took maybe 5 or 6 pumps before I had my legs locked around Dad's backside, fucking him right back as eagerly as if we'd been lovers all along. We were face to face now and this time it was me that kissed him sensually, holding him tightly.

Dad was picking up speed, I don't know exactly what happened but I more or less just passed out as he screwed me. I don't know if I fell asleep or just passed out from all the alcohol and sex. All I do know is that I was totally out of it after screwing my father for what seemed like hours.

The next thing I knew I woke up in my bed thinking, "God, was that a wild dream or what?" The sunshine was shining through my window as I turned over to give Trent a good morning hug and kiss. As I was about to hug him I got the shock of my life when I saw Dad lying next to me – naked. I looked down to see that I was only dressed in my garter belt and stockings. My pussy was really sore and I knew right then that I wasn't waking up from a dream.

I woke Dad up and told him he needed to leave quietly.

Dad kissed me on the forehead saying, "I'll see you soon baby," and left.

I grabbed my robe and went down the hall looking for Trent. When I walked into the living room I saw Trent still sitting in his Lazy-Boy right were he was last night. Just then the light went off in my head. Shit he'd passed out! He passed out when Dad was screwing me. Oh my God! That's why he never stopped Dad. Oh shit I was waiting for him to stop Dad and I didn't know I was on my own. Shit I let Dad fuck me and didn't do a thing to stop him! Now I was really angry. I was angry at Trent for talking me into this. Angry at Dad for screwing me, and just plain angry at myself for enjoying everything Dad had done to me.

I kicked Trent in the leg and said, "Wake up you motherfucker!"

His eyes popped open and he said, "W-what!?" as he was rubbing his leg.

"Thank you very much. You fucking pass out and..."

Just as I was about to tell him that I had let Dad fuck me last night, I realized that I didn't want him to know.

Trent asked, "Where's your Dad? Did you let him touch you? Where is he?"

"I didn't let him, you went to sleep and Dad went home."

Trent got up and said, "You didn't let him?"

I started crying and said, "Yes... no... I don't know."

Trent took me in his arms and asked again if Dad had touched me.

Crying I said, "I couldn't go through with it. I didn't know you were really passed out. I was pretty drunk you know."

"Where is your Dad now?" Trent asked.

I sat down on the couch crying. "He went home." I cried. Trent sat down next to me and I said I was sorry.

He looked at me and said, "No, I'm the one who's sorry. I'm sorry I talked you into doing this. I can't blame you when I asked you to do it. I just hope we can work past this. He didn't get mad at you did he?"

I shook my head no and said, "No he isn't mad."

Trent then gave me one of those looks and asked, "Did you actually try to seduce him?"

"It doesn't matter, all that matters is that we still love each other." I insisted.

"I've got to know, did you try to seduce your Dad?"

Thinking for a second before I answered, I lied and said, "Of course not! Why is it so important?"

Trent gave me a hug and said, "Well... I was worried we went too far. We were really drunk last night."

I realized then and there that the truth would have really fucked up our relationship.

Chapter Four - Keeping Secrets

Well my story doesn't end there. As it turns out, about six weeks after my wild night with Dad, I made a trip to my doctor. The news I got from her floored me, I was pregnant. And the date of conception by her accounting was in the ballpark of my night with Dad. I knew right then that I had Dad's baby growing inside me. What I didn't know was what I was going to tell Trent.

So the next day I told Trent that I was only three weeks pregnant. Eight months later when the baby boy showed up I told Trent that the birth was premature.

Trent just loves the baby and as far as I know he thinks it's his. I can see Dad's eyes in the baby and know it was Dad's sperm that made its way to my egg.

Our baby was three months old now and we hadn't played our game since the night Dad impregnated me, but Trent had begun to drop hints about starting up again. I wasn't so sure after the outcome from our last adventure and told him it was just too soon to begin again.

I was relaxing at home one morning when a text message popped up on my cell phone, Dad had sent me a text message. I don't know why, but my heart suddenly started racing. I read the text with some trepidation.

"What's up?"

"Just relaxing. How're you?"

"Fine," he replied.

And then I froze. I didn't know what to say. Even though we weren't exactly face-to-face, it did feel a bit awkward. I tried to think of something to say. We hadn't spoken much since the incident and I worried what he might think of me.

"How's work?"

"Just fine," he said.

I can't say for sure, but he seemed to be having the same sense of unease, as I was.

Typically, we never talked on the phone or texted; it was usually just email between us. But it was becoming obvious that something was different now.

Dad asked, "How's your sex life?"

I couldn't believe he was so bold, "That's none of your business!" I replied. But then, as a taunt, added, "Are you horny or something?"

There was a brief pause, and then Dad replied, "Why, you interested?"

That was a good question. In a way, yes, I yearned for him a little. I shivered, we hadn't mentioned that night together, we had steered clear of it when we did talk.

"You wish!" I typed.

There was a pause, and then Dad asked, "Do you have a camera phone?"

"Yeah, of course."

Dad paused, and then texted. "Send me a picture of you."

My heart began racing again as I replied, "Ok."

I turned my camera phone around and with a shaking hand, and angled the camera lens toward me. I glanced up at the black eye of the camera and tried to smile, giving him a quick wave, and snapped the picture. I quickly looked to see if the camera had captured a favorable picture; it hadn't, half of my face was missing.

"Still there?" he asked.

"Having problems with the camera." I responded.

"Use a mirror." He texted.

"Huh?" I sent, confused as to what he was getting at.

"Take a picture in front of the mirror." He explained.

Oh, now I understood, and went to my bedroom and stood in front of the full-length mirror. I held the camera in front of me and adjusted my position, and snapped the picture. Seconds later the picture was on the way to my father.

In the moments that followed, I wondered if he thought of me as often as I thought of him. I could just close my eyes and it was as if it were that night all over again.

As I thought of what to say next Dad typed, "You heard of sexting?"

"I know what it is."

Dad typed back quickly, "Want to play?"

I chuckled as I typed, "Is this clothing optional?" I took a deep breath and waited, and thought what he must think of me. And just as important, and perhaps more so, was why I couldn't get it out of my head? Why did I keep dwelling on it, replaying it in my mind? Before I could put too much thought into it, I clicked on the send button.

I waited for what seemed like forever, but was probably only a few seconds. "Sure," came his terse reply.

I swallowed and took a deep breath. Still nervously shaking, my hands went to the hem of my sweatshirt and pulled it over my head in one quick movement. I dropped it to the side on the floor and standing there in my white bra facing the mirror, trying to avoid eye contact with the camera. My chest rose sharply as I breathed, knowing Dad was waiting.

I reached up and angled the camera more to take in a shot of my entire torso. I smiled nervously at the mirror staring back at me, but quickly looked away. It wasn't just a random observer viewing me. It was my father. That camera lens was his eyes looking directly at me; looking at my body. I snapped the picture, and before I lost my nerve, sent it to Dad.

"You're beautiful." He typed.

I grinned and sent him a quick text, "Thanks!" "Have you done this with other guys?" he asked.

I thumbed the keypad again. "No."

"I'd like to see more!"

I could feel my heart pounding in my chest, as I typed an answer.

"Ok," I said, typing clumsily.

I didn't hesitate. I knew if I did, I wouldn't follow through on it. I reached back behind me and unclasped my bra, letting it fall from my shoulders. I pulled it off my arms and dropped it to the floor with my sweatshirt. Then I stood staring back at the mirror.

Dad didn't say anything for a long time. He just waited.

I built up my courage, and then slowly brought one hand up to my breast and began caressing it. The flickering ember that had been lit before was now being rekindled. I made myself forget who it was on the other end of the texts. I raised the phone and posed for the camera, snapped the picture, and sent it to my father.

Dad must have lingered over the picture as his response was slow in coming. Finally my phone chirped the tell tale tone that a text was received. My hands shook as I slowly read the message from Dad, "Gorgeous," was what it read.

I paused before my response, took my hand and placed it at the top of my shorts. Then I slowly pushed it under the waistband. When my fingers made contact with my vagina, my jaw dropped slightly and I sighed, closing my eyes. I didn't care who it was now on the other end of the phone.

I began gently massaging my clit, while simultaneously caressing my erect nipple. And very soon, I let my head fall back and lost myself in the brief moment of self-pleasure. When I felt the first twinge of an orgasm approaching, I suddenly remembered Dad. I quickly lifted my head to see if he had sent me a message; not yet.

I began typing. "Still there?" I asked. I waited for a reply, and when it finally arrived, I sighed in relief.

"Yes," he said.

I pushed one hand back down my shorts and very awkwardly typed with the other. "You excited?" I asked.

"Yes," came a quick reply.

"Want me to see me naked?" I asked.

There was a pause, and then he said "Yes."

Had it been any other guy, I would never tease like this, instead I hurriedly pushed my shorts and panties down my legs. When they were pooled around my ankles, I stepped out of them and kicked them off to the side. Then I turned the mirror so that it faced the corner of the bed. I then sat down on the edge of the bed, spreading my legs and pushing my ass forward a bit so the mirror could show more.

Now my body had gone into autopilot. It wasn't my father, any longer, but simply a fantasy guy sexting with me. I snapped the picture with one hand and held myself open with the other. I hesitated for just a moment before sending this one, this wasn't just a pose; it was a pretense to something more. I pressed send anyhow.

"Nice," he replied, followed up rapidly with, "Just as I remember you".

A devilish grin grew across my face and I leaned back, pushing my knees apart and lewdly played with my vagina, working my way to an orgasm. After a few minutes, just on the brink of erupting, I shot back to the keypad and asked if he was still hard.

"Yes!" he replied.

I glanced up at the mirror and smiled. Then he asked if I was going to cum soon.

"YES" I said.

"Me too," He typed.

Then I leaned back and brought myself to orgasm, writhing in my bed, groaning loudly and holding my legs up high and far apart. And as it slowly ebbed, I paused to gently pinch my nipples and pull outward on them.

When I had finally caught my breath, I smiled up at the mirror and winked at myself, wiping a hand over my brow. I picked up my phone and asked Dad if he had cum.

"Hell yes!" came his speedy reply.

I laughed, typing back, "That was fun!"

He started typing, but then I realized it was going to get creepy if I didn't do something. "I better go get cleaned up," I said.

"You going to be around tomorrow?" He asked.

I typed back saying probably the same time, and he said that would work for him, too. "See you then!" I said.

God, I couldn't believe I'd just masturbated with my father. Then I chuckled and shook my head, thinking it wasn't exactly the first time for that. But I also felt a sense of relief. It wasn't so bad, what we did. It wasn't as though we didn't know what we were doing. In fact, in a way, it made me feel a little better about what we had done before, as though our relationship had been modified. Not so much altered, as it was expanded. I felt refreshed, elated.

The next morning, I rushed around the bedroom, trying to find something a bit sexier to wear for him. I found a lacey push-up bra and a pair of pink thongs with only a tiny triangular patch of fabric covering my vagina. Over this I wore my usual shorts and t-shirt.

I had snapped several pictures with the camera while I waited for him, and then he sent the first text. My heart began racing and my knees wobbled. We chatted briefly, but we both knew why we were there. I asked if he was ready to have fun again, to which he replied with an enthusiastic "Hell yes!" This time, however, I was more deliberate in removing my clothing. I'd take off my shirt and take a picture, the image of my breasts, the nipples just poking up over the edge of the bra, just to get him excited. Then I had him beg me to remove it, as well as my shorts and panties. To be honest, I was just as eager to get naked as he was for me to do so. And when I was completely nude on my bed, we chatted for a few minutes.

"Can you lick your nipples?" he asked.

"What?" I sent back to him, but then I chuckled and looked up at the mirror, sat back and scooped up one of my breasts and leaned down and licked it. I'm a decent B cup usually, but with me lactating from childbirth I was closer to a C, so there wasn't much problem for such carnal acrobatics, I pushed a nipple into my mouth and sucked it stiff, snapped a picture and sent it to him.

"Wow!" he responded.

I laughed, replying, "Well, I'm still lactating!"

Dad laughed once again and said he thought they were sexy.

"That's better," I typed with a chuckle. I let one hand drop between my legs, and then asked if he was getting hard.

"Been hard for a while!" he said.

"Mmm," I replied. "Wish I could see that!"

Just then, my stomach fluttered. The words simply came out on their own, but now that I thought about it, I really wasn't opposed to the idea. My fingers slipped across my wet clit, sending a gentle spark through my body. I closed my eyes and sighed. When I opened them, Dad had sent me a message.

When my phone chirped this time a picture of my Dad's erect penis filled the screen, with a text attached, "Is your pussy wet?"

I looked up at the camera and nodded, smiling dreamily. Then I brought my hand to my mouth and licked my fingers, snapping the picture as I did.

"How's it taste?" he asked.

"Mmm," I replied. "Delicious!"

"You like tasting yourself?"

Once more, I looked at the mirror and grinned, licking my fingers seductively for him, snapping away with the camera. As I continued to play with myself, his next message nearly made me erupt into an orgasm.

"I'd love to taste you," he said.

I slumped back in my chair and groaned loudly, spreading my legs wide. I was getting closer to orgasm and, in my delirium, asked if he would jack off for me?

"YES!" he exclaimed.

Teetering on the brink of orgasm and barely capable of typing, I hastily replied, "I'd love to feel you cum in my mouth." Then, just before it struck home, I added, "I'd swallow for you."

That's when my orgasm took over. I managed to have a moment of clarity in thought, and quickly looked at the mirror. I moaned loudly, humping against both my hands, one fingering myself deeply while the other stimulated my clit. "Oh fuck," I cried to the empty room. "...oh fuck, I'm cumming!"

I smiled and threw my head back, holding my legs out wide. When my orgasm finally subsided, I sat on the bed with my arms hanging down to the side limp and my legs straight out.

My phone was chiming incessantly from the received texts.

"Fuck!" The first message from him said.

"That was great!" was another.

I managed a weak grin and tried to raise my hand to text. Just as I started typing, Dad sent me a message. "Is your pussy wet?"

I chuckled and typed, "Want to see for yourself?" I asked.

"YES!" he replied eagerly.

I leaned back, and then angled the camera, trying to hold it steady, as I brought it down. I put one leg on the bed, slowly bringing the camera down and angling it up so he could get a good view between my legs. With my free hand, I spread myself open for him, and snapped.

"Megan you're beautiful."

With the camera still down there, I slipped my index finger inside me and snapped a picture for him.

"Yummy," he said.

I carefully raised the camera, pointing it at the mirror, and then looked directly at it and smiled, sticking my index finger in my mouth and took a picture.

Then, once again without any forethought, I typed, "Wish your hot cock was inside me?" I hit send, and then remembered to whom I had said that. "... oh damn..." I mumbled.

To my relief, Dad just sent an emoticon winking in reply. Still, I felt like perhaps I'd gone a bit too far in saying that in our little texting game.

We chatted for a few more minutes, and once in a while, I'd let one of my hands slide across my breast, pausing for a moment to pull on the nipple, touching myself while I texted with my father.

Before our little session of erotic fun ended, he once again complimented me on my looks. I couldn't help but blush and thanked him.

For the next two weeks, we'd make it a habit of sexting during the day. And our conversations grew progressively more explicit, until we were finally talking about what we wanted to do with each other. But it almost always reached its crescendo once we hit orgasm. After that, it diminished quite a bit. That sort of became the unwritten rule of our game: leading up to and during orgasm, you could say whatever you like, but afterwards, we toned it down; things went back to normal. And it got to the point where, in a way, as odd as it may seem, I really wasn't thinking of him as my father, just this really sexy guy I knew.

And another strange benefit was that it made me much more sexually aroused by the time Trent got home from work. I already had quite a libido, but doing this with Dad seemed to amplify it. Trent and I had a very active sex life as it was, but this was like giving it a shot of adrenaline. There were times when I couldn't wait for Trent to come to bed and fuck me. And there were also times when I didn't wait. Once he stepped inside the house, and I dragged him to the bedroom and threw myself at him. He never caught on, luckily.