“Dad is it alright if I shave?” Tia asked, her face flushed with tell-tale arousal.
“Yes, as long as there is something to shave, baby,” I said without looking at her, not ignoring her seductive suggestion but peering from the corner of my eyes while I study my next ceramic masterpiece. At sixteen, she was already wearing a C cup bra but too early yet to have developed a carpet of luxuriant pubic hair.
“Do you want your woman bald, Dad?” she continued, this time holding my hand and stopping me from what I was doing. She embraced me, allowing the heat of the yielding softness of her body melt my concentration. And without hesitation, climbed and sat on top of my worktable with her legs under her—she’s not wearing any panties and I can see that she had already shaved.
“Only players in the WNBA are allowed to go bald, baby…,” I said, smiled and sat back, enjoying my daughter’s titillating attempt to tease me. “But yes—why not? It looks fine and clean—especially, if the pussy is luscious and healthy…like yours,” I continued, trying to deaden the malice while hoping to sound like a doctor dispensing some good advice on sexual hygiene.
“Like this, Dad? You think it’s okay, huh?” she said and pulled down her shorts, her pussy glistening in its pinkish wetness, lips succulent and apart, her hole smiling like a virgin, tempting a poke.
I am only a man, period. I am not a surgeon, a general physician or a gynaecologist to be numbed and stay unaffected by seeing a woman’s cunt everyday of their working lives. And if the pussy is so young, juicy and deliciously wet like this one—without the interference of hairy obstructions for me to appreciate the sweating lips of its pouting hole—well, I do relish and enjoy the sight, thank you very much.
That day before I drove her to school, we did it right on top of the breakfast table, amidst the clutter of plates, glasses, cups, fruits and cereals—to hell with what’s broken and spilled! I devoured her…eating in a lazy deliberate way, pouring milk on her ample breasts as she reached in to massage and stroke some more my substantial erection. We fuck and had our satisfying orgasms in no time, with me already fingering her wet cunt even before we heard my wife hurried along to leave the house fast.
“Tell me something, baby…who’s the guy on first?” I said, eyes on the road driving her to school, one hand on the wheel, and the other stroking her thighs.
“Why—you’re jealous, Dad?” she said, opening her legs some more, guiding my hand to touch the warmth of her wetness inside. “He’s, uh, my boyfriend, a school jock,” she continued, leaned back on the seat and lifted her feet on the dash to give me more space to finger-fuck her before we reached school. During these times, I drove in small side streets to avoid being seen by passers-by. “But that’s not exciting, Dad…I have a better one,” she said, eyes twinkling with the expected lewdness of the experience, wetting her lips as she continued, “I quit the club, right? Well, I paid the manager’s kindness back.” She started to stroke my cock, as if conscious of my disapproval for the generosity of her act, pacifying me with her mouth.
“So, tell me about it,” I said, hiding my envious indignation, my daughter allowed an old man to fuck her before I did—shit!
“I’ll do, dad—if you keep your two fingers inside,” she said, squeezing my fingers with her cunt, something that excited me most, knowing she developed her muscle control already, doing the humping on my fingers all by herself. And as I smiled, she slithered closer and told me the rest of her strip club adventure…
Tia became Greek at barely sixteen, loving her body and proud to display it, wanting all the admiration and sex she can get, fooling everyone about her age except the manager who capitalized on it, promoting her as the club’s newest and blossoming star. Still, everything stopped. What was once easy and good burst with intrigue, backbiting, and envy, with her losing a lot in the process: She only lasted for two months.
The other dancers became envious early on as her clientele of regulars grew: from labourers, cab drivers, office workers, attorneys, students, to perverts and husbands looking for a quick erection before fucking their wives. Then, the inevitable jealousy destroyed the luxury and attention she started to enjoy around her.
Her short time spent every week in the club irritated those working full time. She was earning more through tips and commissions than they were actually receiving, and complained. The manager, impressed by Tia’s performance and strong rapport with customers, was kind to her. He displayed in the club’s lobby upstairs large colour photos of her studio shots in sexy costumes and various titillating poses, with her name lighted, twinkling proud, gaudy and prominent among the best dancers.
There were times when she saw lots of men ogling her pictures there, while a long line waited for her scheduled shows. The aficionados of striptease would clamber over the edge of the stage whenever she performed, all eager to see her dripping cunt up close, debating over beers in their gregarious, aroused manner the truth of her age—each one eager to fuck her in their dreams.
Thus, her surging popularity ignited jealousy among some of the dancers, and made her stay in the club uncomfortable and quick. Short of having fist fights and hair pulling matches on stage, in the dressing room, and in the restroom, the irate dancers made a scene among the owner and customers, upsetting her composure, distracting her show, and disrupting the steady flow of her income.
Though she managed to avoid these incidents unhurt and without a bruise, it made a total wreck of her show schedules. Worst, it threatened to upset her studies completely, as she began to incur absences more than the school allowed, which led her to one lousy, uneasy trip to the Principal’s Office.
For fear of failure and losing her privilege to study in this school—she was aiming for honours at the time—and afraid of reprisals more harmful than what she had experienced and seen (the manager called the police once and fired three dancers on the spot), Tia decided to stop without giving prior notice. She cannot risk losing her clean reputation and vested interests in her studies, much worst, be discovered by us, her parents, or the school authorities.
The scandalous incident came out unexpected in one afternoon tabloid, and though it did not mention any names, the club’s logo and photo were prominent. The safe distance she enjoyed and permitted herself while working there became a small noose ready to entrap her anytime soon.
“And I cannot allow that, Dad…,” she said, folding like rose petals during stop lights to cover my arm pushing inside her thighs. “I cannot embarrass you—and Mom,” she continued, and angled her position on the seat to face me more and make things convenient for both of us. Although I stepped quite on the breaks often whenever I feel myself near orgasm too, what with her mouth tight on my cock sucking and slurping as I drive.
Monday is the slowest day for the club. Many of the full time bouncers, waiters, security guards, busboys, and even the cook, asked a day’s off on Mondays. It was only natural for the others to follow, so the owner made it a half day.
Everyone starts working at six in the evening, and the club opens late at ten until three the next morning. The other days of the week followed their normal schedules.
The club was disserted when she decided to quit that Monday morning, already driving a second-hand Honda Civic, which she parked in front instead. Only the security guards inside were there with a busboy mopping the floor. They knew her well, watched and enjoyed her shows wide-eyed, and winked when they saw her came in. No questions asked, just a leering look at her thighs—she was wearing a screaming yellow mini skirt—and everything underneath was naked and all right.
She planned earlier to leave a note tucked at the manager’s door after she gathered her things and piled them in the car. Yet as she finished quickly, and already on her way up to the third floor, she heard the man talking on the phone. He did not leave as expected, which she knew he does every Sunday night, leaving the club only to the guards.
She cannot allow him to see her leave. He would convince her to stay a while longer, enough for him to find a suitable replacement first, which she doubts. “The man—or Pappy, as we called him, Dad—was kind to me,” Tia said in a hushed tone, wiping the sweat off my face. Our orgasms were so delicious I stopped the car and hid behind a row of trees. “He even followed well our verbal contract,” Tia continued, giggling at the thought, shaking her boobs.
Truth is the manager even raised her commissions on nights that the club was full. She knew it would be difficult for her to say no if he asks her to stay. He was a good man who did not even attempt to touch her or make a pass at her, which is so unlike her other customers and admirers. His complete understanding and acceptance of the unfortunate incidents that became overblown—with the subsequent firing on the spot of the other dancers—endeared him to her, in a way I did for her, while she grew up.
She saw him like me, a guardian, protecting her in the club, instead of a brute taking advantage of her. Slow and sure, she developed a secret admiration for the old man, as Pappy reminds her always of me. Though our similarities are too far and in between, the kindness of the man made her remember her fondness of me, her dad, quite well each time they were together.
But then, she already decided to leave.
Quietly, Tia climbed the stairs. And when she reached the man’s office, was careful to open her purse for the letter and a push pin to tuck it on the door. But the man burst out suddenly, opening the door, surprised to see her.
“Sweetie pie!! Hello! What are you doing here?” the man said, smiling, and saw the dumbfounded look on her face. “Forgot something? Hey—any problem? You have problem, sweetie?”
“No—no! Ha-ha! Just, uh—passing through…,” she said, closing her purse. “Heard your voice, so I thought…Why not say Hello?” Cornered, she has to leave the note some other time.
“Ha-ha! You’re always welcome, sweetie, you know that—come in, come in!” the man said, pushing the door wide to his office showing her in.
“Thanks,” she said, and inched to the wall facing the man’s office table.
To her surprise, a lot of changes took place since she was here. The magazines were still there but neatly piled in a new built-in shelves in one corner. The clothes carefully hanged and covered with a curtain to one side. The sex toys gathered and placed in a carton near the clothes. At least, all were hidden and organized.
There was not much clutter on the desk, and the boxes of beer cans were gone. The sofa already re-upholstered with midnight blue cushions and not leather anymore. The curtains looked new but still blood red, while the carpet languished on her foot, waiting for slow death.
“My! You’ve redecorated!!” she exclaimed, thrilled and amazed at the change of ambience and smell in the room: There were incense burning in a corner and some fresh flowers on a vase, while the air conditioner hummed a cool healthy buzz.
“Did your wife do these?” she asked, turning to the man and catching a glint of pride in his eyes.
Nope…It’s all yours truly, Greek…,” he said, smiling at her. A set of white teeth, red lips parting in a wide grin, and eyes with long lashes beaming like a cute kid, greeted her as he spoke. “Wife’s been dead for some years now,” the man added, not pained but honest.
“Oh, I’m sorry—but this is really wonderful!” she said, giggling, forgetting a while the reason why she was there, why she came that day, and what she has to do again, later.
“You like it? Come, try my new—
“—new sofa,” the man said and faltered, suddenly aware and hesitant, and quickly bowed his head, avoiding her eyes.
“Pappy thought he made a blunder, Dad…An indiscreet comment,” Tia said, whispering hot in my ear, breathing hard and still crumpled in the seat of the car where we parked under the shades a few meters from her school. “There was an intimate suggestion attached to the sofa,” she continued, and remembered well her first performance. The old sofa had a provocative, secret meaning between them, and the man slipped and simply forgot. She knew he did not meant it to be that way...He was only boasting, after all.
But she was quick to recognize it, and caught his unnecessary embarrassment, and rode it.
“Oh, I like it, Pappy! But I prefer black—ha-ha!!” and rushed forward to sit on the sofa where the man stood behind. She ignored the hint of sexual intimation that passed, and tried to calm herself from the heat of her vivid recollection of that day, savouring instead the softness of the cushion, soothing the warm tremor that began to tickle the insides of her thighs.
“Why black?” the man asked, soft and calm. He was caressing the backrest of the sofa where she sat, as if taking some pleasure in the yielding smoothness of the deep blue cushion, stroking it against his palm. “You want it mysterious?” he continued, faint like a whisper. His eyes glued on the low neckline of her blouse and knew she wore nothing underneath. The sweet realization of the growing stiffness of his cock bolted him where he stood, behind her back.
“Mysterious, yes…And sexy, Pappy,” she said, still seated but turning around halfway on the sofa to look at the man behind her, her eyes half-opened with unspoken uninhibited yearning. Her breath felt hot, remembering a desire she once savoured here, in this same room overwhelming her now—a carnal weakness that consumed her as she kept it burning in her mind for quite a long time.
“It was my little secret, Dad…The same way we kept our secrets from Mom,” Tia said, fixing herself. She got out and straightened her dress, and with a wet kiss, winked at me and mooned, her twin cheeks naked under her school uniform.
True, it was Tia’s father-figure admiration for the man that fired her on, pushed her to do the best of her performances on the elevated stage without Pappy knowing it. It made her happier each time he was joyous and elated for the good turnout when she did her show. She was infatuated with the man in a simple way she cannot understand, like a teddy bear she loved and hugged for quite some time when she was a little girl.
Pappy pampered her, obeyed her whims and caprices with her shows, her music, her costumes, and even agreed to use her own choreography without hesitation or doubt. Tia is creative, and felt the sincerity inside the man unobscured by greed. She realized her admiration for me was also present in him, although from time to time. Yet, she did not allow him to know or have any misconception of their cordial and sweet situation. Instead, she maintained a professional atmosphere of friendship between them…an owner-employee thing.
However, she’s familiar with his tone of voice, that whispery lowering of the words spoken and exhaled through the mouth. She knew he was ogling her breasts inside her blouse as he stood behind her, and was getting aroused. As she did, too, the moment she sat on the sofa and started to pretend.
”Yes…sexy,” the man spoke, eyes drifting around her seated figure on the sofa, warm breath escaping his nose, an intense arousal unmistakable in his lips.
“Do you think—I am sexy, Pappy?” she said, her excitement bubbling on her skin. The memory of the interview and their haggling over the price came to her clear and smooth like heated vintage wine passing down her throat. Her mini skirt lifted all the way up her trembling thighs without any help, as she wiggled to turn her body to look straight in his eyes.
“Oh, yes, yes! You are, Greek…Wicked—and very sexy,” the man said, looking down at her blushing face, down to her neck, and through the low, wide neckline of her blouse. The man devoured the silky roundness of her swollen breasts, the nipples pointed and erect, eager to be fondled, sucked and mashed. He wet his lips at the tempting sight of her creamy, silken thighs…apart, inviting, luscious, and opening further still for his eyes.
The bulge on his pants came thumping hard against his brief, unable to resist the excitement electrifying his flesh, something he avoided for so long after she first came and demonstrated her ability to seduce—
Goddamn it! She’s only his granddaughter at her age!
“Really, Pappy? You think I’m…sexy?” she asked again, flesh burning with a warm wetness already spreading slow, quivering and intense between her legs.
Pappy’s big eyes popped wide, eager and lustful, rolling all over her body, devouring her suggestive provocations with each quick glance. Her little, fiery seduction routines unfolding, allowing him to entertain all of his sexual desires without hesitation or doubts. The man knew, as always, she had nothing underneath her dress.
“You’re—you are the best in the house, Greek…The sexiest when you’re dan—“
“Like this?” she said.
She did not stand up. She did not even kick off her shoes. But wriggled full while still seated on the sofa, turning all the way around to face him. And with her butt deep on the soft cushion and both feet spread wide and stretched on top of the backrest—unmindful of her skirt tumbling down to her waist—her legs gripped his side. She pinned the man’s body between her thighs, and pumped upwards in a light swirling motion, fucking the space in his face. Almost undressed with her skirt peeled off, exposed and indecent all the way, the lips of her cunt pink as a rabbit’s nose and wet as a drizzle greeted his greedy, hungry eyes.
There was no hesitation for the man. There was no sexual abstinence defined in his book. There was no guilt at all even if, she is only as old as a granddaughter in his eyes. The truth of it made everything more forbidden and desirable, aching with a perverse promise of pleasures for him to consume, wallow, and enjoy. He saw no reasons for him to pass up the chance. It was offered, and he is not a fool not to grab it that time.
The man dug like a pig with his mouth, opening her cunt with his fingers as he started to lick, to suck, to devour everything with his face, mouth, and tongue…her warm juice streaming down her legs and butt straight down her back.
She screamed…soft, erotic, palpable, and uninhibited. She dreamt of this moment and yet, it happened in another way: Her fantasy was only a straight fuck, against the door, upright as he lifted her, banging her hard, then a blowjob, then with her on top, then a lickety-lick, then—
The man called Pappy was an expert: His tongue made her cum several times. Her body trembled while she gasped for breath and sagged, shuddering again and again. She screamed again and pushed away his face—he bit her clit and pulled it, as her body shook and fell, melting, disintegrating in wild ecstatic abandon.
But the fucking on the sofa came next…With her on top, on his lap.
Pappy pumped, relentless, tireless and with all his might, a heavy-duty piston on a wheel of a runaway train to nowhere. He did not stop, was not exhausted, pounding her with a fiery enthusiasm of the youth and the rigidity of a volcanic stalagmite, raping her. Her senses evaporated while his cock burned, buried deep and persistent inside her flesh, digging, pumping delirious and uncontrolled.
She was a rag doll bouncing up and down on his cock as he fucked with her on top, while he held her tight on her tits: squeezing, mashing, crushing hard the roundness of each breast. The man was ruthless, mad, wild, and without let-up…Too voracious, violent and wicked to squash out and tame the wild desires begging at the tip of her clit.
She was already crying, gasping for air, when her last explosive orgasms, several in a row, shattered in her cunt and spread viciously all over her flesh, tickling and burning every pleasure point of her nerves. She writhed away from him, convulsing, stumbling on the carpet under his foot. The carpet, a constant eyewitness on many occasions for this kind of sexual indulgence prompted by the man on his bevy of dancers and applicants eager to have a job, remained dumb and cold, yet cradled her in its threadbare softness as she slipped into unconsciousness.
Then, a soothing calm came over her, as her body and mind adjusted slowly to the sensitive tickling of her cunt. The man was cleaning her up, pacifying the redness of her clit with cotton buds dipped in scented oil: cool, refreshing, calming, and at the same time, preparing her without knowing it, for her next memorable act.
“You okay, sweetie?” the man said, closed to her ear, whispering…gentle, kind, warm. He was lying beside her on the carpet, his body on the reversed position with hers, close to her, but careful not to touch her. And when she nodded, still teary-eyed and slightly sobbing from the explosive and revealing experiences of her rape that made her feel more a woman of the flesh, the man shoved the full length of his cock in her mouth, forcing her to swallow it, as she gagged and burst into coughing fits. The man held her mouth shut tight with his hands, guiding his enormous cock to slide in and out of her lips, fucking her. Saliva, vomit, and mucus from her nose mixed with her tears as the man pumped and fucked her hard in the mouth, calloused and unsympathetic to her moans of pleas and gasps for breath.
“Do me well, Greek…And tell me your age,” the man said, calm and without any emotion or pretension of what he wanted her to do…sucked him hard as he continued to fuck her mouth, gagging her with every explosive orgasm he forced her to swallow.
And Tia obliged…Several times.
TAILSPIN (End of Part Two)
