Student and Teacher Ch. 18

This all happened on a Friday. On Saturday morning everyone contributed to a lavish breakfast to celebrate Wallace's reunion with Vera. The two of them sat like blushing newlyweds as they were fêted by the others. Vera had forgiven Damon for being so bold in bringing them together, admiring his shrewdness in detecting how much she had missed her ex. They spent the rest of the day getting to know each other all over again. But after dinner, Nan came up to her mother with a delicate inquiry.

"Um, Mom," she said hesitantly, "are you willing to—you know, share?"

"I don't know what you mean," Vera said in an utterly faux-naïf way.

"Oh, Mom, you know exactly what I mean," Nan said with a scowl. "I think you should let Daddy be with Iris tonight." Nan glanced over at the older woman, sitting on the couch; and even though she couldn't hear the exact words Nan had said, Iris had a sense of them—and turned crimson at once.

"Why tonight?" Vera said.

"Why not tonight?" Nan answered.

"Well, you know, maybe your daddy isn't quite up to any further . . ." She trailed off.

"I guess we should let him decide that."

"Oh, all right!" Vera burst out. "I guess it's going to happen anyway."

Nan explained the situation to both Wallace and his future bedmate—and that's how it was.

On Sunday, Vera and Wallace continued to spend a lot of time together, both of them striving valiantly not to say anything regarding the previous night's activities. But of course, as Sunday night approached, Sylvia came forth expressing her desire to cuddle up with the big new man in their midst.

On Monday, Wallace of course had to go to work, as did Vera (everyone else was off for summer vacation, although the young men had baseball practice later in the day). It was, however, expected that Wallace would return to the house that evening and spend the night there. But after dinner, as Nan blandly assumed that it was now her turn to be with her father that night, Vera came up to her.

"Nan, dear, you really don't want to . . ." she said with a worried look on her face.

"Don't want to what?" Nan said, being deliberately obtuse.

"You know!" Vera said in a frantic whisper. "Be with your father tonight."

"Why on earth not?" Nan said as if offended. Taking in her mother's appalled expression: "Oh, Mom, I'm not going to do anything with him. We'll just cuddle and then go to sleep."

Vera stared long and hard at her daughter. Then she shrugged her shoulders.

"All right, whatever," she said, turning on her heel and leaving the room.

It seemed that she wasn't the only one who was unnerved at the prospect of father and daughter sharing a bed. As Nan drifted into one of the guest bedrooms, where Wallace had decided to remain for the night, he gaped at her. It wasn't merely that she was wearing a baby-doll nightgown that came only to the middle of her thighs; it was her mere presence in the room that disturbed him.

"Um, dear," he said haltingly, "do you think this is wise?"

"Oh, Daddy, what's the big deal? It's our turn to be together."

"But—but—" he stammered. He couldn't quite get out what he was thinking (Good God, you're my daughter!), instead saying, "I'm only in my underwear."

"Yeah, so what? All the guys here sleep in their underwear."

That thought itself jarred him, making him recall that Nan—just like Vera and Iris and Sylvia—shared both Damon's and Brad's favors in turn. Gaping at his daughter, he said:

"Maybe you shouldn't be wearing that."

"This?" she said, looking down at herself. "What about it? It's still hot in this house." She kept to herself the thought that coursed through her mind: Maybe it won't stay on for very long.

In truth, at the outset she had no real thought of actual intimacy with her own father. As she flung herself into bed, landing almost on top of Wallace, she wrapped her arms around his neck and said chidingly:

"You've been a bad daddy! What's the idea of being so silent these past two years or more? You don't write to me, you don't answer my calls or texts. What gives?"

"Oh, darling," he said miserably, "I'm so sorry about that! I—I guess I felt a little embarrassed when I left your mom. I thought you might be mad at me."

"Daddy," she said severely, "I told you before: no matter what you feel about Mom, I'm still your daughter—I'll always be your daughter. You could have stayed in touch."

"I know, dear. I'm really sorry."

"Well," she said, snuggling closer to him, "that's all over now. You're back with us."

He was not entirely sure who exactly was meant by that ambiguous pronoun. But he didn't have time to think about it, for his daughter, letting out a giggle, went on:

"So . . . how did you like Iris and Sylvia?"

He flushed and had trouble speaking. "They—they were very nice."

"Nice?" she cried. "Is that all you have to say?"

"What do you want me to say?" he exclaimed desperately. That they were fabulous in bed? That they made me perform as I never have in my whole life? That they are so different from, yet so similar to, your mother? That I am half in love with them already—and yet, they make me love Vera even more?

"So what did you do with them?" she asked impishly.

"I'm not telling you. It's private."

"Oh, come on—you gotta give me something." In fact, Nan had interrogated Sylvia on this very point, but all she had said was, "Man, your dad is quite a tiger."

"Nan, I won't—"

But she interrupted him with a long, sloppy kiss on the mouth.

"Nan, Jesus!" he cried once his daughter had released her lips from his. "What are you doing?"

"Oh, Daddy, it's harmless," she replied blandly. Then, continuing to wriggle on his body, she said in a tone of scientific inquiry: "Hmm, something seems to be happening down there."

"Nan, don't you dare—" he began.

But it was too late. She had already begun to slide down his frame and, peeling back the sheet and blanket, exposed the bulge that was distorting his underwear.

"What do we have here?" she said whimsically.

Then she pulled the underwear down to his knees.

The erection that popped up from his abdomen almost hit her in the face, causing her to laugh delightedly. As she gazed at it, her face registered her sense of the impressiveness of the sight.

"Wow, that's some hard-on! I think it may be bigger than Damon's."

"Darling," Wallace cried desperately, "you really mustn't—"

"Oh, Daddy, calm down," she said. "It's no big deal."

Wallace wasn't at all in agreement, but there was nothing he could do. He watched helplessly as Nan pulled his underwear entirely off of him, then, straddling his legs in a squatting position, peeled off her nightgown and tossed it away.

As Wallace saw his daughter naked for the first time since she was a little girl, a gasp escaped him.

"Omigod, Nan," he whispered. "You're so beautiful."

"Thank you, Daddy," she said quietly. "Not much in the boob department, but I guess I'm okay otherwise."

Wallace wasn't about to complain about any deficiencies in her breasts. As he continued to gaze fixedly at her, she took his cock boldly in her hand and began rubbing it against her own groin, brushing it against the fine fur of her delta.

He finally found his voice. "Dear, we really shouldn't . . . this is so naughty . . ."

But Nan wasn't paying the slightest attention. Raising herself up slightly, she slipped his cock deep into her sex.

Both of them now let out a huge gasp at the novel sensation, and Wallace watched in disbelief as his organ disappeared down to the root into his daughter's pussy. For a time they seemed frozen in place, as if they were some kind of lewd tableau vivant. Then, with almost excruciating slowness, Nan began bouncing up and down on her father's cock, coating it with her own wetness while staring right into his face and placing her hands gently on his heaving chest.

After a moment's hesitation, Wallace slowly reached up to seize those small but lovely breasts, almost weeping at their soft and delicate feel. After a time he slid his hands down her body and then around to her bottom, whose luscious contours he couldn't help comparing to her mother's. But there was no way to choose between the two, and all he could do was to enjoy their texture while his daughter continued to ride him.

But as they continued in their extraordinary intimacy, Wallace began to worry about the culmination of their union. Nan didn't seem concerned in the slightest, as she rode him harder and faster and with a kind of wild, maenad air, tossing her head this way and that and causing her hair to flutter wildly around her face. He didn't think he could hold out much longer, and he was about to give some sort of expression to the thought flitting through his mind—but it was too late.

In spite of his numerous emissions over the past three nights, this newest and most incredible copulation inspired him to shoot an enormous quantity of his seed far into his daughter's vagina. Both let out hoarse cries as they came nearly simultaneously, and Nan kept his cock firmly embedded in her until the final drops of his discharge had been deposited in her.

At last she slipped off, tumbling back on the bed onto her back, a look of infinite satisfaction on her face. But on Wallace's face was something like terror.

"Omigod, Nan," he whispered. "I—I came in you!"

A smirk curled her lips. "So what? I'm protected. Don't worry: I'm not going to make you a father and a grandfather at the same time." She chuckled gleefully.

"Jesus, Nan, how can you take this so lightly?" he cried. Then an even more horrible thought came to him. "Christ, what's your mother going to say?"

"She'll just have to deal with it," Nan said blandly. "It's not as if she's exactly simon-pure in all this."

"But—but she's not sleeping with her son!"

"She doesn't have a son, so how could she sleep with him?" After another chuckle: "I could tell you some things about dear old Vera that would make you totally freak out." Like the fact that we had a great time licking each other's pussies while Damon reamed me in the ass.

"This is the craziest house I've ever been in," Wallace said with some amazement.

"Yeah, well, we like it—and don't think Mom doesn't."

"I'll take your word for it."

Suddenly Nan rolled over on top of her father, placing both hands on his shoulders.

"Say, why don't you go into my butt?"

Wallace almost spluttered with horror. But at the same time, Nan didn't fail to notice that he was rubbing her bottom with some vigor.

"C'mon, you know you want to," she teased. "You did it to Mom, right?"

"Yes," he said in a small voice.

"And to Iris?"

"Yes."

"And to Sylvia?"

"Yes."

"So what's the matter with me? I have just as good a butt as they do." She nodded her head in the direction of the nightstand. "You know where the lube is. Just get it." All the top drawers of all the nightstands in the house had a supply of the stuff.

As if in a dream, Wallace reached over to the drawer, pulled out the jar of cold cream, and applied it to his daughter's bottom. She giggled at the cold substance—and also at the touch of his fingers probing that nether orifice. She then got into position: on her hands and knees, as she had already found out from Sylvia that that was his preferred position for his partner. As he eyed Nan's gorgeous posterior, he couldn't help detecting a small trail of come that was oozing out of her other crevice. Gulping, he arranged himself appropriately and made his slow entry into her anus.

She arched her back at the feel of his long member in her, sticking her tongue out as he proceeded little by little. In fact, he was going so slowly and tentatively that she was inclined to thrust herself backward to get him all the way in her, but she managed to wait until he was almost entirely in. He found this sight even more incredible than his cock's disappearing act into his daughter's pussy, and as he pumped her—clutching her hips, as was his custom—he thought the sensation even more transcendent than his similar copulations with the other three women in the house. He was immensely proud that this young creature—this product of his own loins—had become so ravishing: beautiful, smart, kind, sensitive, and utterly heedless of moral convention.

As his climax approached, he actually pulled all the way out and finished the job with his hands. There was a thrill in seeing his discharge spatter all over her bottom, some of it entering her anus and other parts of it dripping down her thighs and around her labia. It was an exceptionally copious emission, and he couldn't believe how many dollops came out of him—especially since this was his ninth emission in four nights.

With a groan he fell back on the bed, exhausted. As his daughter glanced down at him, she said: "Hey, you're supposed to wash afterwards."

"I—I can't," he panted.

"You lazybones!" she scolded. "I guess I'll have to do it."

She leaped off the bed and headed to the bathroom. In seconds she came back with a wet washcloth that seemed to have a little soap on it. Approaching his softening cock with all the attention a mother gives to bathing her son, she took it in her hand and gently washed it. The soap covered it from root to tip, and presently she used some Kleenex to dry it off. For good measure, she used the washcloth to mop up his own juices—and some of hers—on both of her orifices.

"There!" she said, tossing the washcloth aside and flopping back into bed. "That's better."

But Nan wasn't done yet. She hadn't quite had her own climax yet, and so she calmly climbed on top of her father's chest, then onto his face. He didn't need instructions: he began licking avidly, seizing her firm bottom with both hands as he stimulated his daughter while she grabbed the headboard to steady herself. Her groans became more fervent as her orgasm washed over her, and she continued to press her sex into his face until the final throes of her paroxysm subsided.

Afterward, both agreed that it was time for a well-earned rest.

*

Next morning, there wasn't much time for anything but a hasty breakfast for Wallace. But as he was wolfing down some buttered toast with his coffee, Vera—the only other person in the house who needed to get up early—stalked into the kitchen. Wallace stopped his munching with a spooked expression on his face, then looked away from his ex-wife, his face reddening.

As she poured a cup of coffee for herself, she said acidly, "Had a good time with your daughter?"

A piece of toast almost stuck in his throat, but he managed to get it down. "Listen, Vera, it wasn't me!"

"Oh?" she said with interest. "You mean some doppelgänger took your place in bed with her?"

"No, no, I didn't mean that. I meant that—well, she started it."

Vera gave her best mommy-scowl. He sounded like a kid who had been caught fighting with his best friend.

"You're telling me," she said slowly, "that your daughter seduced you?"

"She did! That's exactly what happened."

"And you couldn't do anything about it? She's such a big, strong woman and you're such a weak little man, right?"

"It's not that," he said desperately. "It's just—I couldn't—"

"You didn't want to stop her—isn't that so?"

He looked at the floor. "I guess so."

"So what exactly did you do?"

"Oh, Vera, there's no need to go into that."

"Well, how many times, then?"

"Um, twice."

"Front and back, I take it?"

"Yes."

"You like it the back way, don't you?"

"You know I do."

"I guess you've been deprived so long, since I wouldn't do it when we were married, that you're trying to make up for lost time."

"That's not it at all. It's just that all you women are so . . ." He couldn't find the words.

"Tempting?" she supplied.

"I guess that's it."

"And it doesn't matter if it's your ex-wife, a professor you hardly know, a college student you hardly know, or your own daughter."

"Well, you do it too!" he shot back.

That shut her up. In fact, she turned white before his eyes.

He was struck by her response. As Nan said, she doesn't have a son, so she couldn't do to him what I did with my daughter.

But then enlightenment dawned.

With a slow smile, he said, "So you've, um, cuddled up with Nan yourself."

She suddenly turned away from him. "Only a couple of times," she muttered.

"Well, well!" he cried in triumph. "Does her pussy taste good?" When she failed to reply: "I think it tastes fine. I like it when she sits on my face."

"You don't have to give me the gory details."

Wallace took pity on his ex-wife. "Look, Vera, this is all very strange to me—and it's probably strange to you too, even though you've apparently adjusted to it after a fashion."

"I guess I have," she admitted. "Anyway, you and Nan are consenting adults, so I suppose it doesn't matter that much."

"You do realize I love her, don't you?" he said softly. "And I love you too."

"I know you do," she said, almost inaudibly. "And I love you."

"So everything's fine."

"I wouldn't say that. But I guess we can deal with it."