On Friday, Valentine’s Day, I went out with Tommy. I
felt bad about Daddy, home alone. The last woman he’d
slept with that I know of (besides me), was Mrs.
Trefethen, who was married anyway. He said it didn’t
matter, that Valentine’s didn’t mean anything to him,
but I think he was just encouraging me to have a good
time. We agreed we’d make up for it on Saturday.
The night with Tommy was pleasant enough, but nothing
really to write home – or you – about. We had dinner
at an Italian place near the University, then went to
see Star Wars which was still completely sold out. I’d
never seen it before, even on TV, and while it was
pretty good it seemed kind of childish to be the all-
time biggest movie ever. The wookie was pretty cool,
though.
Afterwards, back at Tommy’s house, the sex was good.
It’s always more difficult there, because his parents
always seem to be hovering. I mean, his door is
closed, but it feels like they’re right outside
listening and I have to work at being really quiet.
I wonder, sometimes, what would really happen if I
made a lot of noise. “Oh, Tommy, fuck me, that’s it,
baby!” kinds of things. I think his parents would be
too embarrassed to do anything and it would be lots
more fun for me. But Tommy would be really angry and
it’s possible his parents would try to break us up or
something. So I was quiet and the orgasm wasn’t quite
as good as when we’re at my house and it took a lot
longer to come. It’s always easier in my room.
I got home around one in the morning. Daddy sat
upright in bed, watching some Steven Segal movie he’d
rented, mostly asleep. I kissed him goodnight and
reached under the covers for his cock, but he really
was tired. I knew that he knew (that I knew that he
knew…) that Tommy had already softened my sexual
urges. Although it would have been nice, a more
perfect Valentine’s, I thought, Daddy was just too
tired. Tomorrow night, he said.
***
We exchanged gifts after dinner at home. I gave Daddy
a card and a small box of chocolate covered cherries.
He doesn’t really eat a lot of chocolate, but it’s
traditional, you know? We both had one for dessert.
He gave me a card and said the present was in the
card. Money, I figured, or maybe lottery tickets. But
it wasn’t that at all. Inside, he’d written:
THIS CARD is good for one massage. Your masseuse will
be Erica, who learned her skills in Australia and
refined them in California before coming here. She has
mastered several forms, including deep tissue and
reiki, but specializes in holistic erotic massage.
Erica will be here at eight pm.
Actually, I was a little disappointed at that moment.
I wanted to cuddle with Daddy for Valentine’s, but
eight o’clock was only a half hour away. I hardly had
time to take a bath.
“Thanks, Daddy,” I said, “this will be wonderful.” I
had no idea.
“Oh, by the way,” he said, “while she doesn’t know
about what we do, the sex and all, she gave me the
impression she won’t be too concerned, either.”
“Who cares?” I asked. “How would she know?”
I was a little nervous. First, what to wear: I decided
it didn’t matter but exposed skin was probably good,
so I put on a blue Universal Studios T-shirt and tied
it under my breasts. Clean underwear and white shorts,
nothing on my feet. Brushing my teeth, I tried to
imagine a professional massage. I hoped it wouldn’t
hurt too much, all that chopping and squeezing.
Erica turned out to be really pretty. I could tell
Daddy wanted to gobble her up and I felt jealous for a
few seconds, then wondered if I should let him get the
massage. She had long blonde hair, just like you’d
expect from where she’s from. A cute figure, she was
only about 5’4″, and a cheerful face with big blue
eyes and a tiny nose and perfect teeth. And, since I
know you want to know, nice tits. Not huge, just nice.
She told me she was 24.
When we got to my room, I sat on the bed, waiting for
a clue how this worked.
“Would you like the door closed?” Erica asked.
“Not really,” I said. “Maybe half way.”
The radio was on, Sheryl Crow or something, which was
fine with me, but Erica asked if she could play a tape
she’d brought. It was her thing, so I said sure, and
she popped this new age music into my machine. It
wasn’t my kind of music, but it was OK. It was the
sort of thing Daddy listens to a lot. She walked up to
me and put a hand on my shoulder — a really warm,
soft hand.
“Ready to start?” she asked.
“Sure. How do we start?”
“Most of my clients take off their clothes, then lie
on the bed face down. I have some oil that doesn’t
stain, but the better oil does. If you’d like the good
stuff, you should probably turn down the covers.”
A minute later I lay on my stomach, naked, on
thankfully clean white sheets. I heard her rustling
around and I turned my head to look. She was taking
off all her clothes except for very lacy black panties
that you could sort of see through except there was so
much decoration on them. I figured that this was why
she asked about closing the door. I hoped Daddy would
walk by and get a look at her.
Sitting on the edge of the bed, she rubbed oil between
her hands then put them on my back, pressing lightly.
Her hands had the lightest touch. She stroked me down
to my bare butt and back up to my shoulders. I sunk my
head deeper into the pillow. This felt wonderful!
Erica worked on my back, usually with a feathery light
touch, but sometimes she’d hit a spot and dig with her
finger like she was making a hole in the ground to
bury a seed in. This hurt in a delightful way, if you
know what I mean. After my back, she did my legs,
rubbing each one for minutes, the whole length from my
ankle to within an inch of my pussy.
Each time her hands moved up I wondered if she might
touch my pussy by accident. Almost — so very, very
close — but never quite. I surprised myself by hoping
for the accident.
She rubbed my butt. This sensation, entirely new if
you don’t count how sometimes a guy will grab it with
both hands just before he comes inside you, and when
he does you’re focused more on his cock and your clit
and your insides than on whatever’s going on for an
ass massage, this sensation is very erotic.
I began to speculate while she did my feet. Everything
she did seemed calculated to turn me on, but she was a
massage person. And I’d never done anything with a
woman, not really, what I had done with Jennifer was
just curiosity not lust. I’d never talked to Daddy
about being with a woman, so I assumed a massage would
be a massage. But it sure seemed like she was
encouraging something more like sex than just rubbing.
She switched to the other end of me. Sitting near my
head, she pulled my arm into her lap. I left it
completely limp, which was pretty much how I was
feeling, and Erica stroked it. The smooth warmth of
her legs excited me – I don’t know what else to call
the sensation.
My arm prickled. I had fantasized about being with a
woman before, and now Erica who I didn’t know at all
seemed available and willing. But it had only been
fantasies, and I couldn’t be sure she wouldn’t be
shocked. It seemed like she wanted something like
that, but how could I be sure? I also wasn’t sure I
was ready to finish what I felt like starting.
I touched her hip, rubbing her back a little, being
friendly. Moving my hand down her thigh, I brought it
back up to rub the inside of her leg just about her
knee. Her legs spread apart for me, not a lot but
enough to make me think I was on the right track. The
tape stopped and she lifted my arm back to my side.
“You can turn over whenever you’re ready,” she said
softly. Everything seemed very soft at that moment.
I rolled on to my back. She turned over the tape and
climbed on to the bed, kneeling above me. I admired
her body but I was really drawn to the smile on her
face. Erica had really kind eyes, not at all like the
women who seem to think they’re so much better than
you. Rubbing more oil between her hands, she seemed to
be pondering where to start. Whatever, she began at my
ankles and worked her magic up my legs.
This time, as her hands moved up to frame my pussy,
she could watch my face. I closed my eyes and began to
fantasize about her fingers rubbing my clitty and
sliding into me. Perhaps something showed, a twitch of
the lips or something, but the next time her hands
moved up that far they brushed against my pubic hair,
sending a thrill through my body.
She changed the massage subtly, too, so that on the
down strokes she put her hands on the insides of my
legs instead of rubbing the tops. I knew I was getting
wet. And if I knew it, she knew it.
“Does this feel good?” she asked.
“Mm hmm,” I think I said. I felt more liquidy than
talkative.
“Let me know what else would feel good for you,
Ashley.”
Jeez, I really wanted her to make all the moves here.
I didn’t want to embarrass her or myself by asking for
the wrong thing.
“I love how you’re rubbing me,” I mumbled ambiguously.
She straddled my knees. On her next trip up with her
hands, they didn’t stop at my waist but continued all
the way to my breasts. I felt her nipples brush my
legs as her hands began to knead my chest in a way I’d
never felt before. She paid the most attention to the
bottom part, below my nipples, her fingers tapping
independently like she was playing a piano. She’d tap
on my nipples a little, then she’d sit back. Her hands
slid down my body.
This wavy motion continued, hands moving up, each time
a millimeter closer to my pussy, massaging my breasts,
the moving back down and gaining another millimeter.
The anticipation was killing me! I raised my leg a
little to give her a little encouragement and I felt
her panties with my knee. Even with only a knee, I
could tell she was wet. She pushed back a tiny bit and
I slid my knee side to side, not exactly sure who was
rubbing who down there.
When she leaned back we lost that contact and I made a
pouting face. The next trip up she used her thumbs to
rub the lips of my pussy. My smile was enormous. I
kept my eyes closed, afraid to risk looking.
I thought she would keep doing my pussy, but instead
she lay alongside me, her breasts touching mine, and
she stroked my face with her fingers. I put a hand
over her breast, not really able to touch hers the
same way she touched me because of how we were lying,
but she didn’t seem to care. She let out a little
sound from her throat that made me feel warm all over.
“Tell me,” Erica said into my ear.
Tell her what?
“Everything feels so good,” I said. “Your hands are so
wonderful.” I was beginning to feel stupid again,
telling her the things everybody must tell her.
“Tell me,” she repeated, and nibbled my earlobe. I
can’t describe how good that little nibble felt. I
knew I wanted her to do more.
“You’ve really got me turned on,” I ventured. “Can
you… play with my pussy some more?”
Her hand traced a wavy line down my front, circling
each nipple, then moving lower. As slowly as her hand
was moving, it got even slower as it got closer. At
the top of my pussy she put a finger on either side of
my clit, not touching it directly. I could feel the
pressure of her fingers squeezing and releasing.
I made some kind of loud sound, not a word, but some
kind of cross between a moan and a grunt and a cry as
a sensation like a tiny orgasm rushed into my tummy.
Her lips sucked my nipple into her mouth and I made
the sound again, not as loud.
Erica turned her head toward the door then back. She
licked around my nipple and continued to squeeze my
clit through my pussy lips.
She whispered, “Your… ah… the man who hired me is
watching from the doorway. Is that OK? Should I close
the door? Tell me.” Her mouth pulled my other nipple
inside.
You know me well enough by now to know I like being
watched, so you shouldn’t be too surprised.
“Come on in, Daddy,” I said, and immediately regretted
the “Daddy” word.
If Erica stopped I would die! But she put her palm
over my pussy while bringing her mouth to my ear
again.
“You don’t have to, you know,” she said so softly I
could hardly hear her. “Just because he’s your father
or just because he’s the one who brought me here.
You’re sure you’re OK?”
“Erica,” I said into her ear, barely sensible with how
good her breasts felt against mine, “I love my Daddy.
I like him to watch me. I like him to fuck me. I love
how we make each other so happy.”
“OK, honey,” she said. “I just wanted to be sure.
You’re not the first girl to tell me that and they’ve
all seemed quite happy. Whatever you like.”
“Can he touch you, too?” I asked.
“Whatever you like.”
Daddy was standing at the foot of the bed, just
watching.
“Daddy,” I said and patted the bed. “Sit here.”
“How’s your Valentine’s present, pumpkin?” he asked.
He sat near my shoulder. I could tell he was admiring
Erica’s body and I loved being able to share her with
him.
I took one of his hands and put it over Erica’s
breast. I put the other one on mine. Through his pants
I touched his cock and, feeling how hard it was, I
stroked the length of his zipper with my finger.
We both watched Erica expectantly. She rose to the
occasion, literally, getting off the bed and standing
close. Daddy’s hand never left her until she put her
thumbs into the front of her panties and bent low to
pull them off. She and I were both naked. Daddy was
seriously overdressed.
Erica put one knee on the bed and pulled my hand off
Daddy’s lap and put it on hers. My hand on her wet
pussy! A woman like me. I let my finger slide inside
at the same time she unzipped Daddy’s pants and opened
them.
Daddy stood and nearly tore off his clothes, actually
losing a button I knew I’d have to sew back on. I
tried to be as delicate with Erica as she had with me,
and I tried the squeezing thing with her clitty. She
held my hand there while she climbed back on top of me
and I found myself touching us both at once. Erica
leaned forward and sucked on a nipple. I asked myself
if I should call it masturbating if I was doing her at
the same time.
Poor Daddy was left standing, his hard cock standing
straight out with nowhere to put it. He began to
masturbate, just a little, pumping himself very
slowly. His balls were drawn up tight. I pushed my
finger a little deeper inside her, wriggling it
happily in the wet warmth.
Erica looked at me and said, “Tell me.”
Too many choices, so I asked, “Daddy? Do you want to
fuck her? What do you want?”
“She’s your present, pumpkin.” Some pre-cum leaked at
the end of his dick.
His voice wasn’t quite normal.
“Would you do my pussy some more, please, Erica?” I
asked. “The way you do it is so good.”
Erica pushed herself down between my legs and spread
them with her hands. She studied my pussy, her face
inches away, thinking, planning, I don’t know what.
For almost a minute she did nothing but look and rub
the bottom of my pussy, pulling my pussy lips open
from time to time, a surprisingly good sensation. It
was almost like she was praying to my pussy.
Daddy was masturbating faster now and I began to worry
he’d come pretty soon. I’m still not sure why I
thought that would be a problem.
Finally, Erica slid a finger into me at the same time
she reached out her tongue and licked my clitty. I
can’t tell you!
The next few minutes were wondrous. She licked and
touched and stroked my pussy, rubbing my juice off on
my thighs. Briefly, leaving a finger inside me, she
opened her mouth for Daddy’s cock and sucked on him.
It was brief because almost right away she grabbed the
base of his prick and pushed him out of her mouth just
as he shot a big spurt of cum onto my belly. I put my
hand on his butt just for the contact. She kept
masturbating him, different from how I do it, kind of
twisting her hand as she stroked. The smaller spurts
dripped down her arm until there wasn’t any more. He
sat down heavily by my head, breathing hard.
She wiped off his cum, first on her breasts and then
on the sheets, maybe because she didn’t want any
inside me. Returning to licking my pussy, she teased
like she always did and then put her lips directly on
my clitty. I came and I came!
If an orgasm pounds through you then subsides and then
fills you up again, is that one or three? I had
however many you decided and it felt incredible!
The three of us lay together in bed for a few minutes.
It was quiet, the music had stopped sometime earlier.
I felt very warm, very loved, very happy.
“Are you OK, Erica?” Daddy asked. “You didn’t come, I
don’t think.”
“I’m fine, thanks. Thanks for asking.” She looked from
one of us to the other. “Maybe next time?” She looked
at me. “Maybe next time, honey, you’d like to taste a
little of my cunt?”
I never left the bed. She got dressed and, naked,
Daddy took her to the living room, turning off the
lights in my room as he left. His cock looked like it
might be getting hard again, but I couldn’t tell. I
fell asleep.
Sunday morning I asked him about what happened after
they left. He didn’t really say, but I got the idea
she stayed a while and that he came again, which he
almost never does. He looked pretty proud of himself,
whatever.
I don’t know if there will be a next time for Erica
and us. Daddy wouldn’t tell me what it cost, but I
gather it was a lot. With a little luck, though, we’ll
get to do something similar someday, maybe with
someone who just does it because she likes him or me a
lot. In the meantime, we have each other.