Afterwards
- 3 years ago
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Afterwards free porn video
My daughter Linda really was a Child of Summer. She was conceived at the end of one. Then, after wintering over for nine months in the warmth of the womb, she was born at the beginning of the next. She had her first five or six months before the gentle fall crashed into the chill of winter.
Linda had been cold ever since, though she often denied it, defied it.
The thing was, it was weird to be around it again. I'd been through a rough spell over the years. My company worked me like a dog for a number of years before I realized that they were going to enhance their bottom-line by extending the lay-offs up into the middle management area. I got out and became an independent consultant. The initial gravy was doing my old job for about twice the remuneration at my new billable rate. Even so, there were a few rough years as I got myself established.
It really was a case of one minute my daughter was entering middle school; the next she had gone off to college. Truth be told, I enjoyed the year or so of quiet when I would wake up whenever I wanted to get my start on my day alone at home.
Amid all this, my wife Carol decided that since the kid was in middle school now, she wanted to start her own business. Oh and how I tried to dissuade her. A small exclusive women's underwear boutique... in this town?!! What woman in town would admit to $60 sexy silk panties that had to be dry-cleaned to get the stains out? What women would walk in to a place called Barely You?
So much for my acumen. Apparently, most of the women preferred the choice over K-Mart's raciest brands. As well, she wound up drawing from the five neighboring towns. Expanding into these five towns in order to draw from the five towns closest to them.
During the time I was trying to get established, it was Carol's sudden six-figure income that paid the mortgage and groceries and, initially, Linda's tuition. My gentle home life was interrupted when Linda ditched college midway through the second semester of her sophomore year. There were some hushed closed-door sessions between mother and daughter. Then it was announced to me that Linda was taking the time off to secure a job, bank up some funds, then find a better college for the fall.
I was never so stupid as to fall for any academic reasons for Linda's dropping out. There was a guy involved, I surmised, and he'd done her over bad enough to grant us the crisis.
The thing was, Linda's job- and college-search seemed to entail no effort beyond staying up late, and then sleeping late, spending the days at home sitting around on her ass.
To which I couldn't really object. In most respects, Linda was very much my daughter. Nothing thrilled me more than knowing--unless I had the jazz of an early meeting--that in my new life I didn't have to get out of bed until I damn well wanted to.
I had bent enough through marriage that I concentrated on changing and picking up my discarded clothes on a nearly daily basis. Though the pig in me remained.
Linda, lounging around the house again almost all the time seemed to favor the same pair of thin grey sweatpants, with a change of t-shirts.
And contrary to her mother's meaning of life, Linda eschewed most underwear. To judge by the points of her nipples, Linda never wore a bra. Though I made an issue with myself of not thinking of that--aside from an early conversation with Carol. She began by noting that Linda was growing up each and every day.
I signaled my agreement.
"Have you noticed that she's developed rather prominent nipples as she's grown?"
I sort of shrugged. As if I hadn't noticed.
"I really think she should be wearing a bra, don't you think?"
Certainly, but as I made it clear, "I'll talk to her about rubbers if you insist, but really! Lingerie, that's your department."
Never had we discussed Linda's general lack of visible panty line. The grey sweatpants she'd taken to wearing since her return certainly didn't hint at anything otherwise.
Linda was dressed exactly like that as we got ready to go out. She was in a t-shirt and a light pair of grey sweatpants--her standard uniform. She deigned to entertain a windbreaker when we left the house. We were out for a wild evening of hitting the video store, then stashing up on snacks. I'd been a good Dad to agree to go along. Linda's car was blocking mine in the drive. She tossed me her keys. "You drive," she declared.
As I pulled on a big coat, all I could answer was, "You're going to freeze to death. Mark my words--they are prophecy."
"Get real, Daddy," Linda waved me off. "My car has an excellent heater."
The easiest way to get to the best of the closest plazas providing rental videos and high quality snacks, she quickly informed me, was to get on the parkway for two exits.
The first exit was about four miles down the wide darkened road. Halfway there, one of the rear tires popped. Flop flop floppity flop I pulled off onto the shoulder.
Stupidly I turned off the ignition, immediately thought better of it, then got nothing but a stomach-churning grinding sound in turning the key. The worry set in--how long had Linda been driving around with a drained battery? At least it died with me around, not that I was of much use.
I thought that maybe if I went ahead and changed the tire I'd win some sort of victory, and as my reward the car would start up one last time. Fortunately Linda hadn't decided at some point that the tire iron looked tacky lying there in the trunk. I banged and stomped and cursed, but to no avail. I finally decided the nuts must be frozen, making this discovery about the time my nuts were nearly frozen.
Back in the car, the ignition gave up nothing but that ominous, impotent clicking. Thank god the cell phone I'd insisted on getting for her car was charged up. I called around for the nearest AAA listing, then got a sleepy-voiced guy who didn't seem at all happy to be a part of the American motorists' safety net. He'd get there when he got there, he informed me.
About the last thing I needed was for my adult child to turn into a sniveling adolescent, but that's exactly what Linda did.
"Daddy, I'm so cold!"
"I would be too if I was dressed for summer," I snapped.
"What are we going to do?" she nearly wailed.
"Wait for that bastard to take his jolly time in getting here."
Oh, that wasn't a very pleasant tone. Wasn't the time for parental smugness years past? I glanced around the cramped front of the car. In a conciliatory voice, I suggested, "Why don't we get in the back and snuggle up for warmth?"
The words were barely out before she was crawling between the pair of bucket seats towards the back. I turned to see if I could be of assistance and got bopped in the face by her rump. "Sorry, Daddy."
I was sorry as well, not that the sight of her pretty ass encouraged any such regrets. Christ, when did my daughter get a body like that?
Such a thought called for a drink. Lacking that, a bracing gust of cold air might be nice. I handed her my coat, then I opened the driver's door and started to get out.
"Where are you going?!" she cried.
"Be right back, babe." I may have been slightly absent from Linda's life the past several years, but not completely. I got out and went around back, rummaging around through all the crap she had in the trunk. All the emergency supplies I'd stocked when Linda first got the car. The cables, the first aid kit. I walked back about fifty feet behind the car, set a flare down and lit it. By now I was getting rather cold myself. Shivering cold. But shivering as well in that epiphanous someone-walking-on-my-grave sort of way. Rummaging through this trunk and finding the realization that I wasn't young anymore. Somehow over the years I'd shed that self of a bright young man ready to seize the world by its throat and give it a good shake, only to be transformed into--good god!--a competent father. The sad sort of creature who makes sure that his daughter has a warm fuzzy blanket stashed in her trunk in the advent of this very situation.
Back in the car I tried to tuck the blanket around her but Linda was instantly in my lap, facing me, folding her arms up and leaning against me. I managed to envelop us both in the blanket.
"There, nice and cozy," I asserted.
"Oh Daddy," she whimpered again, "I'm so cold; please help make me warm."
I held her against me, running my hands up and down her back. Given my coat and her windbreaker and the blanket, she probably barely felt it. Once the friction had warmed up my hands, I sent them up under her shirt, my hands warming the flesh of her back directly. I tried not to think about the fact that, indeed, she wasn't wearing any sort of bra. Linda had moved her hands tight against my back, holding us together. At one point she began swaying back and forth in my lap so violently, my hands had to slide down to her hips, helping to hold her in place. A few of my fingers accidentally tucked under the elastic waistband. After a few minutes I decided I damn well better move my hands back higher up.
I had to try very hard not to think about the whole situation. Granted, we were simply practicing survival skills, but it did feel awfully like we were snogging in the backseat of a car. My cock started to stir at the memory: hey! I remember what happens in the backseat of a stopped car. I started to blush in the dark. Though I couldn't swear it had been the actual event, the last time I'd sat in the backseat of a parked car with a squirming girl in my lap had been the month Carol missed a menses and Linda had been conceived.
Linda and I sat there like that, stroking each other's backs, pressed tight together, cheek-to-cheek, our breaths hot whispers on each other's necks.
"Your breath is so-o warm," she whispered. "I want it inside of me."
Her lips then sought out mine. I didn't know what else to do except to make my mouth big and dumb, breathing out in an exaggerated fashion. Eventually Linda reached up with thumbs and forefingers to squeeze my lips to a proper kiss. "You're losing all the heat," she reproached me.
Any lost heat she quickly replaced, her tongue darting into my mouth while her crotch slowly ground against mine. Linda rustled around a little bit and used her upper arms to coax my hands around her torso until my fingers were feeling the soft warm flesh of her breasts. Linda shivered when my thumb accidentally brushed against a stiff little nipple.
But then she leaned away in protest. "But Daddy," she chided, "I asked you to help get me warm. And instead you've gone and got me hot."
I was mortified. But then Linda took one of my hands off a breast. She guided it out from under her shirt, then thrust it in the pit between our laps. She pressed my hand against the thin layer of grey fabric guarding her treasure. The heat off the cloth was incredible, and the whole of her crotch held a decidedly damp sensation. I was fairly certain Linda was not wearing panties.
Just as I was adjusting to that she removed my hand, holding it gingerly while her other hand pulled out the elastic waistband of her sweatpants. I was stunned by the smell of her arousal. The entire interior of the car seemed to steam up with the scent of a wanting cunt. Then she plunged my hand inside and down, my fingers quickly encountering her pussy's slick fullness. She most certainly was not wearing panties.
Then her hand was almost absently rubbing up and down the bulge in my pants.
This was all wrong, I realized, but how I relished knowing that within a few minutes Linda was going to come all over my hand. And, if she wasn't careful, I was going to come inside my pants.
That was when she made motions to set me free, unbuckling my belt and worrying with the button and zipper at the front of my trousers. My god, I thought, there was nothing to stop us. Linda obviously had but one thing in mind. And my reserve had been replaced by raw desire. The inevitable was unpreventable--my daughter and I were going to fuck in the backseat of her car.
The warning lights were going off in my head, but I ignored them until I realized that the flashes of orange were actually coming from a tow truck that had pulled off on the shoulder behind us.
"Oh my god," I moved to make myself presentable.
"Don't stop, Daddy!" she seized my wrist, "rub me harder!"
"Linda!" I answered tensely, "in about thirty seconds there's going to be a man knocking on the window wondering why we dragged him out of the house on a night like this."
I sucked my fingers clean, nearly fainting at the taste of Linda, then scrambled out of the car, a fool in winter without his coat.
A quick jump got the battery back up to speed. I stood miserably to the side as the guy used some sort of hydraulic socket wrench; he had the flat off and the spare on in minutes.
"Yep," he made small talk, "couple of those nuts were rusted right on. Unless your usual garage is open at this hour, I'd caution you to call it a night and go straight home. These doughnuts aren't meant to be driven on very far, and I'm sure a couple of those bolts are completely stripped. Hate to spoil your evening... " he gave a wink.
Against my better senses I stopped him, opting to have him tow the damn car back to the house.
It was an ugly drive back home, the three of us in the tow-truck's cab. I was the honorable father, crawling in first to ride between my daughter and the stranger. Even with all the room by the door, Linda kept trying to have to wind up sitting in my lap. The tow-man had the radio and the heat cranked. He kept taking big sniffs--with the heat, Linda was emanating a bold scent of well-primed pussy--and attempting to tell some sort of story. It involved his wife--whom I didn't even want to have to think about--and stripped bolts, about how until our call had interrupted them--yea, sure, he knew all about spoiled evenings. Sniff-sniff!!
I would have strangled the bastard, except that would've saddled me with a tow-truck I didn't want. Linda and I exchanged not a word the entire way.
The rest of the evening was instructional for me. No movies and no snacks, the evening was indeed spoiled. Linda put on a good cranky show. But by then I'd finally come to the understanding that all the moods she'd been displaying in the months she'd been back were due simply to sexual frustration.
I was glad Carol was sitting in her favorite chair off in the corner. That way, maybe she wouldn't smell Linda. Because, at the end of the sofa we shared, I sure could. Linda was curled up on her end. She hadn't even bothered to change out of the sweatpants. She treated me to the sight of her rounded rump, at the nexus of which was the darkened grey of her dampened crotch. While she shot me smoldering glances and my nose was thick with the scent of her.
I kept waiting for this moment of family togetherness to just collapse into my ruin.
Instead, Carol stretched sharply and yawned at just the same clip. Then she was standing and announcing her imminent departure to bed. But she said it all so flirtatiously, her eyes locked on mine.
I was visibly on my feet before she left the room.
That was the perfect antidote to the evening; forget all this scary Linda stuff and just knock off a piece of her mother. Things had degenerated to a real infrequency, but, good god! when Carol did decide to make use of her wifely attributes, she remained the hottest little fuck in the Western Hemisphere. She got going with her bedtime routines, while I decided to grab a quick shower.
Of course, by the time I got out of the shower, Carol was fast asleep. I even did try to jump-start her, fondling her cunt in the hope that I might raise her, if not to full consciousness, at least the level at which she might well appreciate a slow sleepy fuck.
But she just shoved at my hands and rolled over away from me.
While I lay there with a Die-Hard brand dick.
And I was ashamed to admit that after about half-an-hour, I very consciously got out of bed. Wearing just my boxers. With my prick pointing out. Out of the room and down the hall. I kept justifying to myself that a man was perfectly within his rights to walk his house in the middle of the night. I was not a proud man knowing exactly what would happen if I found my daughter still in the livingroom.
Fortunately, I supposed, the entire house was dark; Linda had gone to bed. I stopped in the kitchen at the fridge long enough to have a few guzzles of orange juice straight from the carton. Then I went back to bed. In the hallway I paused for half a minute just past the opened door into Linda's room. No, I hurried on, I was not going to do that.
The next morning I slept late, past nine. Carol was of course off selling undies. Linda was actually out of the house for a change. I had a moment of panic when I looked out the window and saw her car was gone--that irresponsible child, out tearing around on that stupid little mini-spare. But then I saw the note she'd left on the kitchen table-- that resourceful child: she'd taken the car herself to the mechanic, and was going to hang out at the mall and shop while the work was being done. My relief was such I didn't even question whose money was going to pay for the repairs, much less the day at the mall.
I would have thought the previous evening was all a dream--or a nightmare--and was well relieved to let it all slowly slip from my consciousness. I sat around sipping some coffee, doing a little work. Then I decided I'd better go take a shower--I had a noon meeting with a client, an old bastard who frowned on doing business with men who weren't as freshly-shaved as himself.
One step into the bathroom and I nearly lost my balance from a strange sense of vertigo. My mind reeled as I stared down at the familiar grey of Linda's sweatpants puddled on the floor, topped by her t-shirt. I barely had the time to think the word slob before I was picking them up. At least she'd changed, I thought. But she'd obviously slept in them the night before, and--my nostrils flared--worn them when she'd woken up and masturbated that morning. The crotch was still damp to the touch, and, as I looked inside, stained creamy with cunt sauce.
My god! I stood there inhaling the aroma of my daughter's pussy. Tasting the slight tang of her as my tongue flickered out across the inside of the crotch. Closing my eyes as I did so conjured up just the one image of Linda lying naked, parting her thighs, revealing her sex, touching herself, rubbing herself, sliding a finger or two inside herself while her thumb toyed with her clit. And what was she thinking about as she brought herself pleasure?
My penis was enormous, throbbing for release, and in a mad moment I wrapped the sweatpants around myself and started jacking off like a monkey. I was going to blow a big load right on that swath of cloth that'd been rubbing against her pussy lips, I was going to make that dampened crotch downright dripping with sex juices. I gave a great gasp, catching myself before it was too late. Jesus! When had I turned into such a demented old pervert? I took a couple deep breaths, went and dumped the sweatpants and t-shirt in the hamper in her room, ignoring all the other soiled clothes. Then I took a long, cool shower, touching my genitals only for the brief moment necessary to soap them up.
I returned from my luncheon fairly gloating. Did the dance and swept the account. Another 50K in the old hip pocket. A big celebratory dinner out tonight! I was just about to call Carol and find out where she'd like me to make reservations when I saw another note on the kitchen table. She'd apparently come home for lunch. She was wishing me luck on my meeting, and reminding me of what I had forgotten--that Barely You was having their semi-annual inventory that evening, which she'd have to stick around and audit. Xs and Os, but not to expect her home before midnight.
That took the wind out of my sails. I moped around for an hour or so, and then decided to get over it. I'd perked back up by the time Linda returned home late in the afternoon. She gave me a quick peck that almost seemed to linger, then proceeded to tell me about her day, her adventures in shopping, how she'd braved the bullying mechanics and not gotten four brand new tires. Instead of bursting her bubble, I decided to say nothing about whose credit card she'd used.
After that I announced my day's triumph. Linda jumped into my arms and gave me a ferocious hug. "Oh, Daddy, I'm so proud of you!" Proud didn't quite describe the way she insinuated a thigh between mine, but the moment passed quickly enough I was able to keep my mind blank. I did notice that she was wearing the same grey sweatpants, so apparently she did have at least two pairs of them.
"Actually," I continued, "I was hoping to go out and have a little dinner in my honor, modest old me. But it turns out Mom is going to be caught up with that stupid inventory of hers until midnight. Care to join me instead."
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