I felt her cum once as her fingernails pressed into my back. I turned to her, looking away so we didn’t make eye contact. To my surprise, she kissed me, hard, as she came down and began to roll into her next orgasm. I knew the beat was about to drop. I put my lips to her ears.
“You know the dance you do…at this part,” I said, gasping, my endurance fading, “Sarah…do it for me. Do it. I love it.”
She shut her eyes and threw her head back, crying out. Her hands went against the couch and she started gyrating on my cock. With every motion, her tits would bounce in those tight, pert motions, and my pelvis slapped against her. I couldn’t believe I was in my own fantasy. I couldn’t understand how I’d broken every barrier of decency and human dignity and I was about to live out my sick dreams. I felt my face sink and my mouth go agape. My eyes must have looked drunk. I couldn’t take my eyes off her forbidden, perfect, jostling tits.
No more pretending, hey hey hey
Cause now you winnin’, hey hey hey
Here’s our beginning.
I came so hard I had to shut my eyes. I usually was a silent cummer, but I grunted and had to balance myself as I emptied myself into her. My cock was only half inside, and I remember feeling a primal regret that I hadn’t jammed it into her to the hilt.
She came down from the wave she was cresting on, and I instinctively put her nipple in my mouth. It was my finishing move when I was done with a woman. I looked at it up close, the tiny little blond hairs and the dark, small areolas. I wondered if I would ever be so close to them again.
My cock softening inside her, I looked up. She was looking down at our coupling, and then looked up at me. I could see she was growing confused as the consequences of what happened came over her. I knew what my plan was, but it pained me to do it. I had to blame her for what happened. It was my only chance at keeping her under control.
“You shouldn’t dance like that. Men can’t control themselves, you shouldn’t be so slutty,” was all I said. I threw away more than eighteen years of fatherhood for a good lay, and I made her feel like it was her own fault. It was despicable. Time would tell if it would work.
I hit the stop button on her iPod stereo and walked away. I went upstairs, showered, and dressed. I stayed in the bedroom, masturbating multiple times in memoriam of what I had experienced, until my wife and son came home. When more than ten minutes went by without fevered screaming, I started to calm. Eventually my wife came to fetch me for dinner.
I didn’t say a word to Sarah as my wife carried on the conversation. I felt I was in a coma I was so full of tension. I didn’t even know what words I was saying when I replied to the banal conversation. Whenever I would speak, my daughter would just stare at her dinner plate, wearing a deep frown. She wore a black shirt that hugged her body. I was disgusted with myself when I could see her nipple poking through the material, the one I’d held in my mouth minutes earlier. I reminded myself those were for her husband, and to feed her future children. They weren’t for me…yet I took them anyway.
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