We had a lot of chores today, and it was probably good. It wasn’t exactly a tradition, but it was expected. Every year there seemed to be at least one day where I had the girls help me with a few projects, even if they were as mundane as catching up laundry and cleaning the floor.
Being a little colder this year, I focused on indoor things in the morning. I had plenty of coffee available, for both Mary and Jessica had reached the point where they liked to pretend they enjoyed coffee more than hot chocolate. Truth be told, my coffee was little more than hot chocolate under a different name anyway.
I worked right along with them (though I admit I watched a lot while scrubbing), as we cleaned the windows and mopped the hard floors. I let them pick music to play loud through the house. Occasionally our chores would take us into different rooms, and once in a while I was alone – for a few seconds – with Jessica.
She always looked excited by the idea of our being alone together, gave me wild grins and giggled nervously. She even backed up into me “on accident” and rubbed against me with a hum, though we kept it very short and careful.
Except for these moments, Jessica seemed to me to wear a very introspective expression. She wasn’t exactly somber, but occasionally she lost focus, one hand playing with the charm around her neck, staring out the half-cleaned window.
In the afternoon we spent some time splitting firewood. I had fun showing them how it was done, and admittedly let my ego stoke at the fact that it was so much easier, with my height, stronger arms, and bigger stature, to swing the maul over my head and seemingly part the wood effortlessly. The girls laughed and had a good time with the fact that they were “being manly” with axes and wood. I’d let them dress up in my logger shirts, with fuzzy hats and warm boots. My work gloves were a little large on their hands, but it was fun nonetheless. They swung the axes over their heads, more often than not burying the head in the wood without splitting it in half. We’d use a sledge to finish the job, or I’d lift the axe and wood together and bring it crashing down on the splitting stump.
Half way through our work, Mary – laughing happily – squeezed my biceps and shoulders appreciatively, telling Jessica how nice it was to have a strong man in the house to handle these kinds of things. Jessica, to my thrill, took this as permission to touch me likewise and felt my upper arms, my shoulders, and even the back of my neck. She laughed like Mary, her eyes twinkling, and jabbered away about the idea. It was the first time Mary had talked about having a father around that Jessica didn’t seem bitter.
Warmed up by our exercise, and enjoying the sunny, cold day, we elected to take an afternoon walk. It was pleasant to stroll through the trees near our house, down the lane, arm-in-arm, just talking about nothing. I was sure after her shock, Jessica needed the simple, easy, stabilizing recovery time. I knew how obsessive awesome sex could make me, even though I’d thought less and less about it over the years. I figured for a guy, or at least most of us, we weren’t so much afraid of it but rather sought it out. For a girl, I reasoned, it might be more frightening.
Our evening pajama-movie was fairly uneventful. I felt a little let down, and thought about that myself as the cartoon ran through average humor and an order-ready plot. I remembered how many times it seemed as though I got myself worked up. Sometimes I went through a week where passions ran high, where my appetite for sex was enormous and had the fortune that it was being met. During those times I craved the physical attention and favors, and felt that their relief meant that I stayed at an even level instead of building up further frustrated heat.
Unfortunately, during a long stretch like that where my needs were high – even if they were being met – there were times when I really wanted something and some attention and it didn’t happen. It was a let-down, even though I knew my sexual partner was doing pretty much everything she could to keep me satisfied and remain sane simultaneously.
So, I sat on the couch, cuddled nicely with the warm, cozy girls, wishing Jessica would pay attention to my penis instead of the movie, and felt simultaneously guilty and resentful. It wasn’t fair of me to ask for more than she was already doing, but I also felt as though I’d been wound up and had reasonable expectations and they weren’t happening.
I shook my head out and focused on how ungrateful that was. What would how many other men offer or sacrifice for what I was being given every night this week?
‘Chill out,’ I told myself. ‘You can’t make yourself like the movie, but you can let your mind drift and have a modicum of patience.’
I frowned, thought about it, and realized my grumpiness came from what it always seemed to come from. Uncertainty about sexual release. I was horny, no doubt about it. I wanted, craved, needed sex tonight, but I was concerned that Jessica was still recovering from last night’s encounter and its unexpected emotional ramifications. I feared she might not be in the mood tonight. Might not come to my room. Might have scared herself right out of the whole experiment. I had been sexually stirred, awakened, and then brought roaring to lusty life. I was going to be grumpy if I was asked to simply let it go, settle down, and go back to sleep. It didn’t work like that.
‘It never worked like that,’ I realized, looking back across my life. True concerns might make me scared or nervous, but almost every time I could remember just being grumpy – the kind of grumpy that rubbed off on others or was obvious or affected my days – was because I was horny without enough release.
The thought that Jessica had flirted with me today took the edge off my grumpiness and unease, but didn’t eliminate it. We watched through the end of the movie, shared a little small talk about it, and tidied up the living room. I hugged the girls goodnight and took refuge in my den.
Relief, warm floods of delighted, almost overwhelming relief washed through me as I finally arrived at my room. The tension eased out of my neck, shoulders, temples. A warm, happy smile forced itself through and onto my face.
Jessica not only beat me to the room, she sported a playfully stern frown. She had retained my logger shirt, which was overlarge, blocky, and bulky on her feminine frame and therefore accentuated her curves. She’d wrapped the comforter around her hips, but one bare leg hung over the side of the bed, swinging as if annoyed.
“I was beginning to think,” she said with an edge to her voice as I paused to close the door quietly. “That you did not want to come up here or be with me tonight.”
I crossed to her swiftly, and with one strong, smooth motion gathered her into my eager arms. “Oh,” I sighed into her hair as I lifted her into the air. “I was so worried! I thought you weren’t going to be here, that you were too affected by last night, and weren’t going to want to do anything, that despite what you said, I’d hurt you or it was too much or you’d had enough and needed time.”
Her frown had melted away, and her legs kicked delightedly before she wrapped them around me like her arms. She giggle-sighed right back into my ear. “Not at all, not at all. Quite the opposite.” She squeezed me hard, as though clinging to a cliff wall. “Mmmmmmmm,” her hum went on and on and on.
“Though,” she said at last, and pushed her head back, keeping her legs locked around my hips. “I certainly need to change things up again. I want something very different tonight.”
“What is that?” I asked, smiling from my eyes to my toes. I could have happily turned into a tree and held her forever. ‘Now who is being ridiculously poetic?’ I asked myself with an inward laugh. I knew it was the giddiness of my fears erased and my sexual appetite about to be satisfied that made me far too corny and happy.
She wrapped her arms tight around my neck and pulled me into an insistent kiss, running her fingers through my hair. “I want it to be,” she managed between passionate kisses. “Active and busy. More playful this time. I want you to lead, to have me do some slightly unusual things, I don’t know…”
I kissed her back, holding her up, thinking it had been a long time since I was asked to be athletic. I wasn’t exactly out of shape, and she wasn’t exactly heavy, but I wasn’t exactly sure what to do either. Buying time, I worked one hand up into her hair and used it to pull her head back, giving me access to her beautiful neck. I kissed and nibbled lightly up one side, across her jaw, and down the other. I’d forgotten how effective that could be, and was pleasantly surprised how much strength she had in her suddenly squeezing legs. I worked at her neck some more, keeping pressure around her with my arms.
She started to grind against me, so I set my right arm as well as I could to give her support and pulled us slightly further apart. We stood not unlike like the letter Y, her back arched and head thrown back, my free hand unbuttoning her shirt as well as I could. Before long her breasts shone up at me in heaving desire. With both hands supporting her again, I pulled her a little higher and kissed her nipples. I tried getting as much breast in my mouth as I could, but used as little of my teeth as I could get away with. I wanted to save them for later.
Jessica kept her fingers working through my hair, and I could hear her deep, rapid breathing. After a minute or two I could feel my thighs starting to feel the strain, and decided to change our balance before getting off my feet. I straightened us up and guided her bottom with firm pressure, moving her around just a little so that she was as close to being on my right hip as our bodies would allow. I kept her riding high enough that my lips were constantly in contact with her breasts, then with my left arm I unhooked her right leg.
Uncertainly at first, then with increasing negligence, Jessica let her leg loose and then dangle as she started out unsure what to do with it then forgot its presence altogether. I squashed her against my hip, encouraging her grinding motion, and continued to kiss the side of her breast, occasionally flicking my tongue over her hardened nipple, but I also detached her left arm from my head and guided it slowly, inexorably, towards my waist.
Jessica took the hint quickly and I let her hand go. She continued downward a little faster in her eagerness and wrapped her fingers around the soft fabric that now stood out. Her technique might be inexperienced, almost awkward at times, but there was no denying that eager, strong fingers gripped and stroked my penis through the pajamas.
After a few moments she worked her hand into the waistband and grasped me directly. I could hear her breathing deepen, sense she looked down at me as I sucked her nipple, breast, and the side of her chest. Occasionally she lost all concentration and I could feel her hand go still, but I would send a pulse through my penis and she’d return to stroking me again.
Before her grinding could become mechanical or distracting, I shifted us again. With movements I hoped felt more confident and sturdy to her than they did to me, I lifted her even higher, and bent her over. Ducking my head back, I reached over my shoulder and pulled her left leg up. She squeaked a nervous laugh like a girl might when being tossed into the air, and I settled her thighs on my shoulders. My logger shirt hung loosely from her shoulders like some inverted cape.
With my hands holding her hips up, I drew her groin snug against my face and adjusted her position so I had perfect access to her glistening lips, and her weight was more comfortably aligned. I could feel her uncertainty again, not so much with what she should be doing as how to deal with her legs. I shifted my arms higher so that my hands rested around the sensual curves of her rump and my elbows were hooked about her hips. Here I could use my upper arms to squeeze her thighs around me, letting her know it was not only okay, but heightened my own pleasure. I began to lick, kiss, and play with her clitoris, lips, and what of her vagina I could reach with my tongue.
She laughed again, a sound now muffled by the creamy coolness of her thighs, and wrapped her own lips around my cock. For several minutes I let go of thinking, of planning, of the strain on my legs, of any unpleasant thought and just enjoyed myself as she sucked, moaned, bucked, and occasionally chewed on my penis. I kept up constant movement and pressure, occasionally grinding her body into my face, often tantalizing with my tongue. At one point, I couldn’t tell when – I couldn’t tell much of anything, honestly – she’d curled her legs up and her feet rested against my head. I felt I could have died with pleasure.
With incredible effort, recognizing the symptoms of impending ejaculation, I slowed, pulled my mouth away, and took a couple staggered steps towards the bed. Mercifully she took her mouth off me, possibly unsure how to deal with the motion, and my ever-nearing eruption began to subside. I wanted to last a little longer.
Curling awkwardly, I half unrolled, half set her on the bed, and stretched. Now that overwhelming waves of moist-mouthed pleasure were not rocking my penis, I could feel my legs and feet had gotten tired. Jessica looked at me with playful, wide eyes, actually licking her lips and wiping her wet mouth and chin with the back of her hands. It was all I could do to remember she wanted me to be dominant, because it sure looked like she was about to produce fangs and an evil grin and greedily devour me bit by bit.
I climbed out of my pajamas and pulled off her shirt, then rolled her onto her stomach. I knew I needed to keep up the contact, but I needed a break, and perhaps a position that was less pleasurable for me, but still stimulating for her. She hummed in excited, anticipating ways and wiggled on the bed, but when she spread her legs wide and lifted her ass a little, I slid them closed again.
Once on the bed I stooped over her, straddling her calves, and smoothed my hands over her achingly sexy ass. I used firm pressure to maintain my authority, but wasn’t about to stop there. Without warning I slapped her tight, rounded cheek. Not hard at all, but with the undeniable snap of a spank. It was the illusion of pain, but drew out a gasp as though I’d thrust a baseball bat into her. She tensed right up. I smoothed her ass some more, slapped the other cheek the same way. She convulsively grasped the comforter in each hand and thrust her buttocks higher.
Again I smoothed over her ass, wishing I could eat the whole thing in one enormous, gluttonous bite, but this time instead of slapping her I dug in my nails and scratched from the small of her back to the top of her legs. By this time her breathing became so deep and fast I felt sure she would start to hyperventilate, and her back was so arched it looked painful. She quivered. I couldn’t keep her waiting any longer.
With my legs outside hers, pinning her to the bed and holding her closed, I shimmied upward. The lips of her pussy had swollen nicely, were still glistening with her juices and from my mouth, and had darkened nicely. My own cock throbbed to be home, and I did my best to lever myself into place.
It wasn’t an easy angle, but she was so slick and arched that I was able to dip myself down and bury myself a few inches into her heat. I could feel the pressure and contact against the front wall of her vagina, hear the slight squeak in her voice, and feel her shudder as I worked myself up and down. The angle wasn’t the most stimulating for me, but judging by the reactions I was getting, really worked for Jessica.
I leaned down, keeping her body pinned with my weight, and grasped her wrists. I carefully but firmly pulled her arms outward, slightly over her head, stretching them straight. My own breathing became guttural, and I wrapped my fingers completely around her like handcuffs or manacles. Her inarticulate squeaking formed slowly into high-pitched, whispered “oh – oh – oh”, and I felt her body go rigid with tension.
By bending my own elbows slightly I laid myself atop her back, slowly letting more and more skin come in contact. The firm, round pressure of her trembling buttocks filled my pelvis, the smooth, cool skin of her back caressed my chest. My shoulders covered and dominated hers.
For some time I moved as well as I could, ‘smothering’ her with my body. Finally, when the persistence of this awkward angle threatened to lessen my hardness, I hoisted myself up again. Instead of allowing for a slow transition, wanting to go with the slight domination and lead, I let go of her wrists and quickly moved back.
Jessica made a lascivious, disappointed noise as I pulled out of her pussy, but I gave her little time to think about it. I shifted my weight first left and then right, to allow me to work my knees between her legs, forcing her to spread. I reached down and grabbed as much of her rich, golden hair as I could quickly manage, and raked my fingers through it, gathering it into one fist. That accomplished, I wrapped the fingers of my other hand around her hip and pulled her insistently upward and back.
Tugging gently but with implied strength on her hair I pulled her head back and up, and rocked her body backward onto my cock. On her hand and knees now, her breathing coming in huge, fast gulps, I buried myself much deeper than I could reach before. With my hands, one wrapped around her luscious hip, the other clasped firmly in her gorgeous hair, I moved her with a strong, steady rhythm.
Again she arched her back, and before long my encouragement was superfluous. I kept enough pressure up on her hair to make her feel dominated, but little enough she could adjust her neck if she wanted. Her attention seemed, however, completely focused on the thickness of my rod sliding in and out, as deep as I could reach, and as close to coming out as I could manage.
My hip-hand couldn’t stay still. Within moments I found myself unable to stop myself caressing her lithe curves, her shapely rump, her slender sides. My own fingers began to tremble. I forced myself to focus, to take deep breaths. It helped ease the mounting tingles, but I knew I could not last more than another minute or two at this pace. I had one more thing I wanted to do.
Jessica, oblivious to my self-inflicted torture, shuddered and bucked, breaking her rhythm, then asserted her wild pleasure again, tossing her head back so what hair that was free from my grasp flew upward and back. I kept myself from exploding in orgasm only by concentrating on the mounting pain in my knees. I wasn’t about to let up on them, either, and the thought kept me sane. I let go of her hair and she immediately ducked her head, shook it violently, and flung it back again. The shower of gold over her pumping back and shoulders sent a shock through my system.
‘No, no, no!’ I thought desperately, my eyes wide, my willpower put on hold. I put a hand on either side of her hips, felt them softly, pulled them hard against me to stop her motion, felt myself buried deep within her. Jessica almost snarled, ducked her head again, and dropped to her elbows. She tried to move, tried to wriggle, but I squeezed and asserted my control. I stayed as still as possible for a moment, for I was sure even if I pulled her off, the motion would cause me to explode over the top.
Finally, after a few seconds, the sensation abated just enough that I pulled her slowly, inexorably, off my eagerly thrumming penis.
I knelt back on my feet a moment, the cold air washing over my wet prick. I felt incredible, I knew I could stand only a tiny bit more stimulation.
With strong motions I manipulated Jessica onto her back. She looked up at me with hair draped across her face. I couldn’t read her expression, but her body had stayed stiff. Her knees were slightly up and spread wide. Her feet flexed. She seemed unsure what to do with her arms, almost unaware of their existence.
I climbed over her hips, a move she hadn’t expected, and straddled her stomach. My penis twitched with the heavy beating of my heart, gently touching her skin as I reached forward and started to brush the hair back from her neck, her cheeks, her forehead. As I smoothed it out in a huge golden fan around her head, I took subtle crawling-steps up her body until my thighs squeezed gently around her ribs.
I took her hands in mine and drew them closer in to her own body until she cupped her own breasts and pressed them together against my penis. Though her breasts were magnificent for her age, they weren’t enormous. She still managed to wrap my shaft between them. She arched her back and forced her head back, enhancing the image of golden waves around her head. She closed her eyes and sighed.
Working together, we built up a little rhythm. The incredible, insistent, smooth softness of her breasts enveloped most of my penis, though the head stood out proudly over her cleavage. I could feel the beating of her heart through her warm, glorious skin. I felt myself build, gave myself over to the blinding-white pleasure, and released my load.
A pearly glob shot against the bottom of her chin, a strand arched out and fell across her beautiful neck, she let out another squeak of pleasure and held herself still. A few more pulses oozed out, glistening against her chest. “Oh my god,” I managed.
Jessica licked her lips and hummed. I felt the vibrations through my balls, my shaft, my body, as though she were not so much a purring girl beneath me but an insistent bass drum rolling in the distance, commanding the attention of my stomach.
I stayed still as long as my knees could stand it while she massaged her breasts languorously over and around me. Finally I climbed off, crossed to the dresser, and brought back a soft cloth. I stood frozen by the side of the bed, eyes glued to Jessica’s chest, for she’d shifted her attention and was rubbing her neck, her chin, her breasts as if my cum were precious skin lotion.
Eventually she turned her head to the side, smiled, and looked at me with half-closed eyes. I nearly melted on the spot. Once again she wasn’t done with me and despite the fact I normally would have been done for the evening, I felt an immediate wind-up of desire and emotion.
I dropped the cloth unawares and reached my other hand out to beckon her over. Her eyebrows raised only slightly in pleased surprise, and she climbed out of bed eagerly to take my hand. Some of her golden hair stuck to her chest, which gleamed dully with the trace of my moisture. A giggle behind closed lips got caught in her throat as she followed me towards the bathroom. Her nerves, the chilly air, and the excitement of our passion fluttered it around as she tried to keep from making too loud a noise.
I stood her next to the walk-in shower, still holding her hand, and pulled the door open. The tiles felt cold beneath my feet and I felt Jessica shiver. She bunched her shoulders closer together and wrapped her free arm under her breasts. Her nipples stood out hard and clear.
Trying not to torture her longer just so I could drink in her body, I pulled on the water and adjusted the knob, waiting a moment until the water was hot. I led her into the warmth and shut the door behind us. She let out a gasp of pleasure as the hot water conflicted with the cold on her skin, in the air, and under her feet. I wrapped my arms around her and stood her in the direct stream.
With massaging motions born of my desire not only to treat her but to keep touching her, I worked water into her hair, rubbed her back, squeezed her buttocks, held her close. Before long a cloud of vapor filled the shower. Wishing I had something scented or feminine instead, I reached for my more utility shampoo, squirted a blob into my palm, and began working it into her hair.
She stood semi-rigid, not like a scared animal surrounded by predators, but like a young princess surrounded by magic sprites, afraid that if she moved the magic would stop. Her smile, her closed eyes, her weight up on the balls of her feet all spoke to delighted pleasure. I made sure hot water constantly bathed at least somewhere on her skin as I lathered her hair, squeezing it gently, running my fingers through it, adoring it, worshipping it.
I rinsed her out by manipulating her body into place, tilting her head back, and using small motions so she wouldn’t get soap in her eyes. At last the suds stopped appearing in the water-deepened gold of her hair. I turned her around so the hot water splashed on her breasts and her supple ass brushed against my thick, anticipatory cock.
Again I took down my manly conditioner, wishing I could make the shower smell like a rose garden, but instead squirting a healthy dollop of the slick substance into my hand. I worked it again into her hair, smoothing out the tangles, glorying in the ability to play with such lovely perfection. She began to rub back and forth against me gently, quivering when her back would touch my chest, or when the curves of her butt would trap the roundness of my semi-erect penis.
Determined to control myself and the situation, I grabbed the soap and with my hand still slick from conditioner, which I had not yet rinsed out of her hair, I promptly dropped it. Jessica startled and looked down where it lay just before her feet, but before she could move, I crouched to pick it up. My body slid smoothly against hers, my cheek caressing the length of her side, the curve of her hip. I leaned against her wet, glittering skin and hugged her ass against my shoulder.
Scooping up the soap, I brought it over her toes, her feet, her ankles, and lathered it between my hands. The water kept running the suds away, but she hardly seemed to care. She trembled freely, and I could feel her heavy breaths over the rushing water. I caressed every inch of her from her feet upward, taking plenty of time. I kissed the backs of her shapely calves, washed her knees, circled her thighs with my hands, and smoothed them up.
Standing again, but a little stooped, I worked more lather out of the soap and washed her buttocks, deep beneath the cheeks, and finally put soapy, clean, insistent pressure reach-around fashion on the lips of her pussy. This way the whole of her back and her delicious bottom pressed against me, warmed by the shower. I worked my hands up and down her stomach, over her breasts, along the canal between her clitoris and the opening of her vagina, spreading soap that was almost immediately washed away.
I washed her neck, her shoulders, her back, then pressed against her again and washed each arm right down to the fingertips. She hummed with delight at each new touch, and positively glowed when I finished. Putting the soap away, I turned her around and finally rinsed the conditioner from her hair, working my fingers in at the roots and massaging her scalp as I went.
“How does that feel?” I asked through the pouring, hot water.
“About half done,” she replied, rising momentarily to her toes in order to kiss my wet lips. She turned just enough to retrieve the soap herself, and eagerly worked up her own lather. She started at my neck, directed me to turn about every once in a while, and made her way down over my shoulders and back. The avaricious glare in her eyes when she ran her delicate fingers over my chest made me feel like a master artist’s bronze statue, but she did eventually continue downward.
Though she missed several spots in her eager work, she certainly understood the highlight. Crouching down before me, she soaped up my penis and balls, using long, slow motions that made me feel twice as long, twice as impressive as I really was. She barely waited for the soap to be rinsed away before she had me in her mouth again, sucking earnestly and deep, as though thirsting for the water from my skin.
I responded as was only natural, aside from my semi-stifled groans of pleasure, by stiffening significantly, but she refused to let up. Without hastening her pace, she sucked me in as deep as she could, then slid out slowly, only to repeat the process again and again, her beautiful, soaked head working sinuously back and forth, in and out. her arms curled around until she cupped my ass with her hands, the bar of soap evident in her palm.
“Mmmmmmm,” she hummed, her penis-muffled voice magnified by the acoustics of the shower. Sensing, I think, my impending orgasm, she backed off, letting the soothing water run over my length, and stood slowly, placing the soap back in its dish.
When she turned back to face me, Jessica inched her body against mine, slowly and deliberately, biting her bottom lip playfully. She angled us so that the hot water cascaded down our bodies, then shifted her right foot so that the balls of her feet stood on my left toes.
Staring into my eyes like a prowling cat, she reached up and hooked her hands around my neck. Her left leg caressed my right as she raised it slowly, purposefully, until her knee was as high as she could get it. She twitched and pushed herself up on her right toes. Letting go with her left hand, but holding all the firmer with her right, she reached below her raised leg and with a slight adjustment guided my penis into her waiting pussy.
I worked my way in as well as I could, for the water made our skin cling, but she clearly didn’t care. She clung tighter and tighter to me as if she could make our two bodies one if she exerted enough pressure. I held her tightly too, and in the end it was the tension and the incredible desire evident in her eyes and every one of her taut muscles that pushed me over the edge. I thudded within her, my penis screaming for the sweet release, my cum leaking out of her swollen lips to mingle with the hot, running water.
For a very long time, Jessica would not let go.