A Daughter’s Coming of Age

Secrets Unveiled: A Daughter’s Coming of Age

I had almost drifted off to that blessed isle of post-coital bliss when I felt my wife running a fingertip over my left nipple. She played with it—making it hard and then tweaked it—pinching it and me wide awake! She then whispered a question into my ear.

“Honey, do you think Scarlett’s too young to start dating?”

“Hmmm, I dunno. Why you ask?” I replied as my eyes fluttered open.

“Well, I’ve noticed how the boys are looking at her now. You’ve noticed haven’t you?”

I peered down at my wife of 15 years. “What do you mean?”

“Oh come on, you know what I mean.”

“No, actually I don’t.”

“Honey,” she smiled up at me. “I know you better than that.”

“No, I don’t think you do.” I said, trying to sound just a little bit indignant.

“Really?” She smiled again. “So, you haven’t noticed how our little girl’s breasts have gotten much bigger and rounder, or how her nipples pucker up hard when she gets the milk from the fridge in the mornings? I know the daily paper is interesting, but you’re saying fatherly eyes have never strayed?” She licked my nipple as she cocked an eyebrow up at me.

“Well, of course, I mean, I’m a man. I would notice those things.”

“That’s what I thought. All men notice those things,” she said with a smirk. Her cheshire cat smile told me she was up to something.

“She’s only 14, honey.” I tried to sound concerned. “Isn’t that a little young to be dating?”

“I know, but how old was I when you came after me—14!”

“Hmmmm, true, but isn’t it different today?” She certainly had me on the age thing, I quickly thought, but maybe I could get her one the innocence thing—“You know, honey, today’s boys and girls are completely over-sexed. They’re saturated with sexual images night and day, and even their cultural icons are nothing but slutty little tramps—Madonna, Brittany, hell, even Kelly Clarkson has started down the trampy road.” Ahhh, I felt vindicated—victory assured. I would squash this little rebellion after all.

“Well,” she added, “I’m not sure today’s girls and boys are any different than we were. I mean, you were anything but innocent, remember?” She cooed into my ear, “you were 18 and I was 14 when you first fucked my tight little virgin cunt, mister.” Her eyes were gleaming, and I could feel the noose tightening.

“Well, honey, things were different back then….weren’t they?” I was beginning to falter. I could see that my stance had no solid ground under it, and all the facts were in her favor. I was applying a supposed standard to my daughter that I hadn’t kept and hadn’t asked my wife to keep way back when I was hot on her trail.

“Yeah, I suppose. I guess some things were different then, in some ways.” She swirled her tongue again over my nipple and nipped it lightly as I felt her hand softly slip over my thigh, “but, dear, some things never change.”

“Oh, jesus fuckhing h. christ, what are you doing?” She was dragging me into another round, I could feel it. Does this lady never get enough, I thought.

“Me? Little ol’ me? Why I’m only doing what comes natural.” Her hand encircled my rapidly re-engorging cock. “Doesn’t this feel good?” She said in her perfect angelic pitch.

“Ummmm, gaaawd yes, it feels fuckin’ great!” She had taken her thumb and ran it over my spongy head to smear my shaft with pre-cum and was now long-stroking me—pulling more and more syrupy liquid from my pee-slit. I kicked the sheet down with my right leg so I could watch my wife jack me off. I loved seeing her hands work over my cock.
“So, don’t you think Scarlett might be just a little bit like us—her parents?”

I didn’t say anything, but a deep guttural moan crept out of the recesses of my being, My head fell back on the pillow, and it was all the confirmation Melanie needed.

“I thought so!” She smiled wickedly. “You’re a bad boy, mister dick!” She slapped my cock making it bounce off my stomach. “You’ve been fantasizing about our little girl, haven’t you?” She feigned a sense of true outrage, but the way her hands cradled my balls and corkscrewed my cock belied her real intent.

“Ohhhhh, honey, don’t stop.” I spread my legs a little while settling my head deeply into the pillow.

“Tell me the truth; you look at her, don’t you?”

I didn’t reply right away. I was afraid of what this might mean. However, when Melanie slipped a finger under my sack and began to probe my nether crack with index finger, I knew I was goner. She had found my puckered hole and began to lightly caress it, smearing a little of my precum over the pinkish star.

“Honey, tell me the truth, do you look at her?” At this point she quickly stuck the finger that she’d just been massaging my butthole with into my mouth—swirling it like some nasty popsicle over my tongue and lips, and whispering, “you like it, don’t you? Hmmm, good boy, he loves his fucking butt.” and then just as quickly she slipped it knuckle deep into my inviting anus.

“So, you gawk at her, doncha?”

Through clenched teeth and ever-widening legs, I said, “Yesssss.”

“She’s so beautiful, isn’t she?”

“She’s a gorgeous little slut.” I was quickly slipping over the edge. My eyes were closed and the sensation of my wife’s finger probing my rectum sent me into a sensual downward spiral

“And, she’s sexy, too, isn’t she!” She mumured, while now positioning herself between my legs.

I spread my legs wider knowing what was coming—we’d been down this road before—She now inserted her middle fuck finger on her left hand entirely up my ass—fuckin’ knuckle deep—while her right hand jerked my cock. In this position, she could also take long slobbery licks all over my dick. I loved watching my lascivious wife drool all over my bobbing prick while she rammed her fuck-finger up, what she loved to call, my boy-cunt.

“Jezuz Christ, you’re a nasty bitch!” I was gone. I didn’t fucking care anymore. Everyone knew what a little slut Scarlett was going to be—it was fuckin’ obvious!