Dad and Joanie

Copyright © 2013, BarondeSade. ALL Rights Reserved.

No portion of this story may be reproduced for profit without the express, written permission of the author . . . .

This story is a work of fiction. The characters, places, and incidents are either products of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental . . . .

All fictional characters in the story who are involved in sexual situations and incidents are above the age of eighteen . . . .

This is an old Shoeslayer story that he wanted me to edit and rework for him. He never posted it and I thought it was a better story than his original, which you can find on his literotica web page, if you would like to read it...I just thought that since I'd spent all the time and energy to re-write it, some of you might like to see it...Enjoy...

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I woke this morning feeling hornier than a shipload of sailors who hadn't seen dry land for six months. And for me, a guy in his early seventies that is good thing. I know, I know, who wants to read a story about some seventy-year-old fart, when there are plenty of stories out there about twenty-something guys with eight-inch dicks, physiques like Arnold Schwarzenegger, and the morals of Marquis de Sade fucking women in their thirties and forties who are built like brick shithouses. But give me a break, we like sex just as much as the other guy, and you'll all be there one day (you hope). Don't you want to know what it's going to be like when you get that old?

But I regress. On with the story . . .

They say that the memory is the first thing to go as you get old. Sometime that can be a blessing as you can forget all the times you wanted to have sex and the wife just wasn't in the mood. Oh, my wife, Ezmerelda and I used to have some wild sex, and we still do. Oh, maybe it's a little more sedate and restrained than it used to be, but when we do it, now down to four or five times a year, it's nice. Of course, I think a few more times a year would be more to my liking, but hey, at my age, I'll take it any way I can get it.

But alas, I regress again. Getting old. Let me see, now what was I gonna do today? Oh yeah, the air conditioner is on the fritz and I gotta fix that to get Ezmerelda off my back. But wait, there's something else I was supposed to do.

What was it? Fuck, you old fart. How could you forget? I have to go to the airport and pick up my daughter, Joanie. She's coming home from Chicago for a little visit. It's kind of hard thinking of Joanie as my daughter anymore. After all, she is in her early fifties now. It seems like only yesterday that she was a teenager, running around in her cheerleader outfit. She was so cute and innocent back then, not that she's not sweet and innocent now. But age has a way of changing one's thoughts about people, even though the only thing that has changed is their age.

Well, back to Joan. For some reason, she had never gotten married. I don't know why. She had matured into a fine specimen of a woman. Pretty face, a spectacular set of knockers that had to be at least forty double Ds. I know, I'm her father, but I could only imagine what a nice pair of big, plump nipples went with those mammoths. And the way her gold, half-glasses rested on her bosom, held there by the little home-made beaded eyeglass chain she had made only emphasized their abundance. Oh, she could lose a little weight and it wouldn't be missed, but all in all, for a woman in her fifties, she still had it.

I know, I know, I'm her father, you say. Hell, the way I felt about her didn't begin yesterday. It began a long, long time ago back when she was a teenager.

I think maybe, or was it just wishful thinking, I don't know which, but I always thought Joanie had a thing for me the way she would walk up and plop herself on my lap. And I don't think she was trying to get comfortable the way she would grind her butt against me until she made me have a boner and then she would jump up, giggle and leave like she hadn't done a thing wrong. Now nothing ever happened, but way back in the cobweb-filled recesses of my mind, lay the thought that she knew what she was doing and was just teasing me to see if she could get a rise out of me. But, why would she do something like that to me? I was her Daddy. It wasn't nice to tease an old man like that. Hell, I might have had a heart attack or something—

Like I say, I hadn't seen Joanie in three, no, four, yeah four years and was really looking forward to it. Maybe, just maybe, I might get up enough courage to do something this time. No you won't you old goat, I told myself. You'll just stew in your juices, and she'll come and she'll go and everything will be the same. You ain't never gonna get in her panties, so give it up. I don't know why, but thinking about Joanie now was different than it had been back in the day when she was a little girl. Back then, it seemed so perverted to think about her like that, but now? She was a woman! She could make up her own mind. She was a woman and I was a man. That made it different didn't it? Well, I don't know about you, but it certainly made it different for me.

Again, I regress. . .

Thinking back on the last time she had visited, I remembered walking in and catching her reading the paper through her gold half-glasses. When she saw me, she had stopped reading, slowly took them off and held them in her hand while she watched me. The look in her eye gave me an almost instantaneous boner. Then she had glanced down at the front of my pants and then back up to my face. I remember blushing like a neon sign as I watched her suggestively ease the tip of the temple of her glasses between her lips.

As always, I didn't know what to do so I had just excused myself and went cowering back out to my shed to hide. Now as I thought back on Joanie's visits, it seemed something similar had happened each time she came back to visit. Or was it just my overactive imagination, I asked myself?

"Whatever?" I disappointedly muttered and headed over to the waffle house. Ezmerelda had already left for work and wouldn't be home until around five o'clock, so I had the whole day to fix the air condition before I had to go to the airport and pick up Joanie. Leaving the Waffle house, I stopped by the hardware store and picked up the parts I would need and headed back home.

Going out to the shed, I rolled up my sleeves and went to work. I had the A/C up on the bench with the cover off, checking the wiring when I heard a car stop out in front of the house. I didn't think much of it when I heard a door slam shut and the car drove off. Going back to work, I was suddenly surprised to hear footsteps on the gravely walk outside my shed.

Now who the hell could that be, I asked myself? Wiping my hands on a rag, I turned to step across the shed and see who it was when to my amazement, I saw Joanie step in through the door.

"Joanie—" I exclaimed, tossing the rag on the bench and stepping toward her.

"Hello, Dad," she smiled, holding her arms out waiting for a hug.

Grinning from ear to ear, I swept her in my arms and gave her a very, un-fatherly hug and a diametrical-opposed fatherly peck on the cheek. I could feel her forty, double Ds pressing against my chest as we stood there hugging for the longest time. Was it my imagination, or was Joanie pushing her tits into my chest with a little more enthusiasm than was necessary? It was almost like she was that little girl again, sitting in my lap, rubbing her tight little ass against my poor, helpless cock. And unfortunately, it was having the same effect on me that it had, had back then. Embarrassed, I let go of her and stepped back before she could feel the boner that had suddenly sprung up down between my legs.

"So, Dad, is Mom at work?" I heard her ask as she pretended to reach for the rag that lay on the table beside the defunct air conditioner. I didn't know if it was an accident, or on purpose, but as she reached, her hand brushed against my achingly-hard cock, making it twitch down inside my pants.

"Uh, I thought I was supposed to pick you up at the airport," I muttered as my cheeks began to burn.

"You were, but I thought I would surprise you. Did I?" she softly giggled, tossing the rag back down on the bench.

"That's an understatement—" I exclaimed. I wanted to take her in my arms again and plant a big, wet kiss on those oh-so kissable lips so bad I could taste it. But as always, something was holding me back.

Then, to my stunned amazement, Joanie stepped closer and this time there was no guessing when she reached down and brushed her fingers across the bulge sticking out against the front of my pants.

"Raymond, what's it going to take?" she asked me, leaning against me and roughly groping me through my pants.

"Joanie—what? What are you doing?" I gasped, my poor brain reeling and doing flip-flops inside my cranium.

"Dad, are you really that clueless?" she smiled, leaning over and nibbling on my ear and making goose bumps pop out all over my body. My little Joanie? Was she really doing this? Or had I slipped over the edge into lust-driven insanity and making all this up?

"I don't understand—" I mumbled looking down at her hand as she boldly squeezed and fondled my cock through my pants.

"I've been giving you hints ever since I was eighteen, Raymond. I couldn't figure if you were that stupid, or you didn't care about me, or, or, oh, fuck, Dad, I don't know. But neither of us is getting any younger. I'm tired of waiting. Why do you think I never married?" she complained, reaching up to the top button on my shirt and pushing it through its buttonhole. "Tell, Me, Raymond. Tell me that you don't want me, too, and I'll stop."

"Joanie," I groaned. Then Joanie stopped unbuttoning my shirt and stepped back with a mischievous little smile tugging at her lips.

"Maybe this will help, Raymond," she smiled, reaching up to the button at the top of her over-stuffed blouse. "I've seen the way you've been ogling these things every time you didn't think I was watching," she softly laughed as her fingers quickly stole down the front of her blouse.

Then, as I watched on in a dazed stupor, she shoved her blouse back over her shoulders and let it flutter down onto the bench. There they were! They were gigantic! I don't see how she could walk upright with those things tugging down on her chest. The big, frilly bra holding them seemed to be straining at the seams trying to hold the quivering giants at bay as Joanie slowly reached behind her back.

Then, they suddenly came spilling down out of the bra and out into the open right before my leering eyes. They were spectacular. Large, round globes of milky-white flesh, each capped with a circle of purple and two oversized nipples that looked like plums jutting out of the darkened circles of purple.

"Oh, God, Joanie—" I gasped staring down at the jiggling giants in worshipful adoration. In all of my seventy years, I'd never seen a prettier pair of tits. They were to die for. Every man's dream. I could see where a man could get lost down between them and never come back out . . . or want to.

Gawking down in a testosterone-induced daze, I watched Joanie reach up and curl her hand around the back of my neck. Then she pulled my face down toward the mountainous treasures and I suddenly found one of the big, rubber nipples in my mouth.

"Suck it, Daddy, suck it," she whispered as her hands slipped back down under my chin and went to work on my buttons again. I thought I was going to pass out as I wrapped my hands around Joanie's huge tit and began to suck and lap at the big, bloated nipple.

"Oh, yes, Daddy, like that, like that," she groaned, arching her back and thrusting her breast against my face. I had died and gone to heaven to a place there reserved for all those sick, perverted fathers who lusted after their daughters and finally got to obtain their last wish.

Then I felt Joanie pushing my shirt back over my shoulders. Suddenly, her tit was gone and I found myself sucking on air.

"What? What? I complained as Joanie picked up her blouse and made an attempt to hide her bountiful boobs as she stepped across the shed to the door.

"Come on, Raymond. I'm not going to soil my clothes doing it in your dirty old shed," she laughed. "Come on, let's do it in your bed. Your bed and Mommy's bed," she said, sticking her head out the door and looking around. "I don't see anyone so come on," she laughed, darting out the door and heading up the path leading up to the back steps.

Stepping up to the door, I watched Joanie's more-than-ample ass flounder and shake as she ran up the path. The same ass I had fantasized over all these years and which was soon going to be mine. I nearly came in my pants right there before and stepped out and went chasing down the path after Joanie.

"I'm coming—" I giggled out from behind her as she reached the back door, flung it open as stepped into the house.

"Don't you dare," I heard her giggle as I stepped onto the steps. "There's going to be no wasting it after all these years. I'm going to have it. It's mine!" she exclaimed, grabbing my hand and jerking me inside.

Then she wrapped her arms around me and planted a wet, sloppy kiss on my lips as she squeezed me so hard, I thought I was going to pop.

At last Joanie stepped back and let me go so I could breathe again. Then she grabbed my hand again and pulled me across the kitchen, out into the living room and down the hallway to Ezmerelda and my bedroom.

Slinging open the door, she stepped inside.

"Daddy's such a bad, little boy," she laughed, making her giant tits heave and bob as she tossed her blouse on the unmade bed. "Not making your bed? So lazy."

"I, uh, I wasn't expecting company," I complained as I watched Joanie turn around to face me as she dropped her hands to the waistband of her skirt and plucked it open.

"Well, Raymond, let me see it," she smiled, letting her dress slide down her chubby legs to land in a puddle around her black, patent-leather high heels. "I didn't fly all the way down here from Chicago to go home empty handed this time, Daddy."

Now I'm not one of those guys they show on those ridiculous Viagra and Cialis commercials. I haven't ever had a problem getting it hard and I'm pretty proud of my seventy-year-old seven incher. Maybe I'm not a John Holmes, but I've never had any complaints about it . . . or the way I use it.

Joanie seemed to suddenly revert from the staid, demure fifty-two-year old to a giggly, gaga teenager as she stood grinning and watching me unfastening my pants.

"Come on, Daddy, come on, I want to see," she fussed, dropping to her knees in front of me and pushing my hands out of the way. "I'll do it—Let me—" she breathlessly exclaimed.

"Joanie, are you sure—" I whimpered, wanting her so bad, but not wanting to jeopardize our relationship.

"Raymond, quit pretending. You know you want this just as much as I do," she sighed seeming exasperated with me as she spread open my pants and dug her fingers down under the waistband of my shorts.

Then with a soft, little grunt she jerked my pants and shorts down in one quick jerk.

"Oh, my . . . Oh, My, oh, My—" she exclaimed as my rock-hard cock sprang out into the open, hard and ready to rock and roll.

"Are, are you disappointed?" I meekly asked as I watched her lift her glasses, easing the homemade glass-bead chain up over her head and then wrapping it around my jutting cock. Then with the chain wrapped around the hairy base of my peter, she began to slowly shuck her chubby hand up and down it.

"Do you want to play with my titties, Daddy?" she cooed as her hand slowly bobbed up and down on my cock.

"Of course," I groaned, squatting down so I could get at the dangling marvels.

"Take one in each hand, Raymond and squeeze 'em tight, Daddy. Lick them—" she ordered as she slipped her glasses back on her nose. I awkwardly leaned down licking and sucking on my daughters tits, alternating between the jiggling giants as she continued to slowly Jack her clutching hand up and down my primed prick while she watched me over the tops of her gold half-glasses.

I kept licking and sucking while out of the corner of my eye I saw her chubby hand drop down to the furry bush covering the tip of her belly. Then I stopped to see what she was doing.

"Did I tell you to stop licking my tit?" I heard her pant as her hand started flicking back and forth down between her legs.

"Joanie, what are we fooling around, Honey?" I mumbled, backing away from her spit-covered tits. "We both know what we want, so let's stop pretending, Baby," I wheezed, grabbing her by the hand and pulling her up onto her high heels.

"You're right, Raymond . . . for once," she giggled. "We've been screwing around for years, wasting all that time. Fuck me, Daddy. I want it and I know it's what you want."

I didn't have to be asked twice as I kicked my pants off and pushed Joanie toward my bed. Seconds later, I had Joanie on her back in the middle of my bed and was crouched over her, clawing and pawing at her lovely tits while I slammed into her with all the strength I could muster.

I couldn't believe it was really happening. Fifty years, I sadly thought. It had taken fifty, fucking years to get up the courage to do this and now it was finally happening. I could kick myself in the ass a million times for not doing something earlier. But that was to brood over later, because now I was going to savor every precious second Joanie and I had together as I pumped into her tight, hot hole with wild abandon.

I was loving this, she apparently was too as she writhed and squirmed on the bed below me, panting and squealing out her pleasure until all of a sudden, she went stiff as a board and started shaking and shivering. That did it for me and I felt the gates to Eden open and I sent a massive load of warm, liquid love spurting down into my sweet, Joanie's ravenous pussy.

That was just the first time for us, but Joanie's visit became more and more frequent as time went by. My only regret, is that we had waited so long to let it happen. So, all you guys . . . and girls out there, take this little story to heart. If there's something, someone out there that you love and want to get to know better, maybe you ought to get to it. Life's too short to wait. . . .