Unspoken Pleasure (erotica)

“No. I pretended to myself that I was normal, that I was over daddy, that I wanted a real man. Yeah right, so how come I always picked guys who were weak? Losers. I always picked men I knew couldn’t satisfy me. Small men, not like you or daddy,” she admitted as I raised my eyes and stared into hers. “Daddy’s like you.”

“He is?” I whispered.

“When he comes into a room every woman knows.”

“Knows what?”

“They know that he’s a man. Know that he’ll be better than whoever they’re sleeping with now. They know he has a big cock. They react to him just like they do to you. They’re scared of what he’ll make them feel.”

“Do I scare you?” I asked.

“You scared me from the second I saw you in the emergency room,” she answered, then continued her story, “Daddy married some woman six months after I left. Then he divorced her a year later. I came home for Easter when I was in fourth year, just weeks after his divorce. I hadn’t seen him in over a year. I didn’t get six feet past the front door before he grabbed me and threw me to the floor. Ripped my clothes off me.”

“He raped you?”

“Shit, I ripped the buttons on his shirt I was so hungry for him. We raped each other. We were like animals rolling around the living room, fucking and sucking and yelling and… oh Christ Johnnie we screwed non-stop for three days. I was hungry for him… for his maleness… his big cock. It was so good.”

“Good? So you and your dad were ok after that? Got back together?”

“Yeah right,” she answered almost contemptuously, “I went back to school and didn’t talk to him for six months. Dad married and divorced a second time. Meanwhile I dated some more guys that couldn’t in a thousand years ever replace him.”

“That’s when you met the midget?”

“No, it was later. After I’d graduated and was working in the hospital. He was here… we dated… we each had something the other wanted.” Seeing my quizzical look she went on, “He wanted a wife… respectability, I wanted to marry, to prove I was finished with daddy.”

“But that’s stupid.”

“Of course it is. And he’s gay.”

“What? Your husband’s queer?”

“He’s never said anything… We’ve never talked about it. I don’t even think he’s ever acted on it. I mean he does try to sleep with me from time to time but it’s hopeless. He knows. Having me has let him not have to face the truth. He’s the successful doctor with the beautiful wife.”

“Poor bastard,” I mumbled.

“And I don’t have to face the fact that the only man who has ever made me happy in bed is my father. That the only penis I’ve ever wanted-”

“So far you mean,” I threatened, moving forward so that my hard cock was trapped between our stomachs.

“We did it again… one more time,” she admitted, her confession not quite finished. “A year ago… the day of my wedding. I was at home… dressing for the wedding. He came into the room… watched me for a minute as I stood blushing in my bra and panties. Then he slowly undid his belt… lowered his pants. Then he just pulled off my panties, bent me over and fucked me. Hard. Made me come. It took like two minutes. Then he made love to me… slowly… but hard, deep. Neither of us said a word the whole time.”

“Christ, we got to the church late. As he walked me down the aisle I could feel his sperm oozing between my legs. His last words to me, whispered just before he delivered me to my husband, were, and I quote him directly, that ‘we’ll always want each other honey, we’ll be making love long after you’ve left this little prick'”

“Sweet Jesus,” I mumbled.

“So now you know my story. Little miss perfect doctor. Except I walked to the altar pantyless, dad’s cum dripping from me. Except I’m married to a bossy little queer with a small dick and the only man I still want to sleep with is my dad. And maybe you,” she added, looking deep into my eyes. “We’re two real losers aren’t we Johnnie? Fucking our fathers, our sisters… we’re abnormal.”

“You know we’re not,” I insisted as I pulled her naked body even tighter against mine.

And then, as I held her in my arms, my cock hard against her stomach, I told her what had happened the night before… about how Rosie had slipped into my bed, of what she’d said.

“You’re going to sleep with her too aren’t you?” Kathy asked when I’d finished.

“I can’t,” I protested.

“You will,” she accused but there was no disapproval in her voice.

“But-”

“You’ll fuck us both,” she predicted. “And I’m finished with little boy fucking Johnnie, I’ve had enough of those,” Kathy promised, then grabbed my balls and gave them a hard squeeze. “I want a hard fucking… a Johnnie Esposito big cock fucking… a daddy fucking,” she hissed, then let my sack slip from her hands. “I want to know… know if there’s someone else in the world besides daddy who can make me cum-”

“You’ll cum,” I promised, “This weekend… we’ll make love all weekend… come to dinner Friday night.”

“Friday?”

“We have a family dinner every Friday night… Rosie, Maria, me… Bring a toothbrush,” I ordered.Material © NôvelDrama.Org.

“A change of clothes too?” she asked mischievously.

“You won’t be wearing any clothes til Monday morning Doctor O’Malley,” I warned with a growl, then captured her lips and kissed her.

“Promises, promises,” she laughed when I released her.

“I love you.”

“You do not… you’re just a horny old cop who wants to take advantage of a poor married woman,” she teased.

“Hah, poor married woman, an over sexed little daddy’s girl is more like it,” I teased back.

We kissed for a while before I left…

*** Scene 10: Esposito house, Monday night to Friday evening ***

… And I spent the next three days being ministered to by Rosie, Rosie who’d taken the week off from school with the blessings of the nuns at her school, all of whom had promised her they’d pray for me daily. Little did they know!

She slipped into bed with me again Monday night. And Tuesday night. Then Wednesday night. Thursday night.

“We can’t honey,” I’d protested the first night.

“What did the doctor say?” she demanded, her meaning completely clear when her soft little hand slipped possessively around my penis.

“She’s coming Friday night to give me some tests. I invited her to dinner.”

“Did you? What tests?”

“You’re far too nosy little lady,” I admonished as I slipped a hand onto her breast, “But just to warn you, she said she may have to stay over all weekend… that these modern medical tests can be quite complicated.”

“Penis tests?”

“She is a penile specialist honey.”

“I’ll bet,” my beautiful sister mock complained. “And until then?”

“She said I’m still sick, that I can’t do anything too energetic, just ‘dry runs’ so to speak.”

“Does this count as a ‘dry run’ Johnnie?” she asked as she flicked her tongue over one of my nipples and then moistly licked down across my stomach towards the penis stretching urgently in her hand.

We spent the next three days and nights exploring each others bodies. Every inch of the others skin was explored. Touched, caressed, kissed, licked… enjoyed.

She tasted my sperm for the first time Tuesday night! I’d been carefully and slowly sliding my penis between her breasts, making sure not to aggravate my injury even while pushing her ripe, teenage tits together to form a perfect warm channel for my cock. The first spurting ejaculation splashed onto her cheek and neck, but the second and third she caught in her open mouth after she’d adjusted her head. “More,” she demanded after I’d finished and so I held my softening penis inches above her mouth and milked a last couple of thick, creamy drops between her lips.

Wednesday night she felt a man’s tongue slide moistly between her legs for the first time. I ate her until she was a writhing, whimpering, begging wreck. “Fuck me… please Johnnie,” she cried as her juices spewed out over my face. Then I ate her a second time… while I pushed my middle finger into her puckered anus.

We kissed endlessly… slept entwined… she carefully sponged my body clean every day… I’d sit by the tub and soap her perfect body as she languidly soaked.

Friday almost seemed to come too soon…

*** Scene 10: Esposito home, Friday evening ***

“Rosetta Esposito makes the best Veal Parmesan — Sicilian Style – in the whole world,” I said as I held the chair for Doctor Katherine O’Malley that Friday night at seven forty-five.

“Good, I’m hungry,” my good doc replied, a friendly smile for Rosie on her lips.

Rosie, already sitting at one end of the table with the steaming platter in front of her, beamed at my words. Her sister, sitting opposite her, bristled momentarily and seemed ready to protest when I added, “Of course she learned everything she knows from the best cook, and most beautiful one, in New York, the lovely Maria Paolina Cattini.”