Flying Dreams

Prelude: a Dream

I must have been twenty-six then, the last time I saw my father. I wonder if either one of us knew that we were actually saying good bye forever. Probably not. Neither of us were great on intuition. It doesn’t frighten me anymore at all. It doesn’t terrify me anymore to think of the details of our sojourn together and of what I grew to know as love. It used to frighten me, the memories, the triggers, as I used to sweep the moments, my life, out of my mind, forgetting that it happened to me, to us. I believed our story was better left unsaid, unexplained, untouched after the years of history and life paraded on settling it well into the past. Yet, in the end, as every good story does, as every good read moves forth, the story grabbed its own voice, and sprang to into verdant vital being, giving fresh, free and youthful sway to my ongoing life. As a matter of fact, as I finally discovered, the story of our love has been the root, the soil, the very earth of me and my sexual being, which has never failed me to this day.

It all began with the dream I had just the other night. Unlike my dreams these days, it didn’t take place in an alternative place, weird and unfamiliar. I didn’t have that bizarre dream feeling. It was as if the dream took place in real time, in my own home and in my own bedroom.

My home in those days was woody and open with windows that welcomed in the opaque Northwest light. The kitchen was adequate, but the exquisite the dining area and living room overlooked a deep emerald green, old growth forest, because it sat on a mountain side. On the other side of my home was my large, well-furnished bedroom, attractive and well decorated, though not overly feminine, in order to keep it on the masculine side for my many men friends.

Though not bright, the bedroom is nicely illumined by the two large windows at either end of it, and the skylight above the bed. It is a cloudy day, but not cold and there is an expansive view of the misty river from one window, and of the extensive flag stone patio on the other.

I hear a knock at the door, and thinking it’s going to be a friend I begin to smile in warm anticipation of his presence. Instead, the person at the door is my father. I’m neither surprised or apathetic. Perhaps he was supposed to have been here, as if we had an appointment, which we didn’t.

It had been years since our reunion one week before. Before that, the last time I saw Max was way back in ’94 when he needed me for a corporate event he was hosting. At the end, he had left without saying good bye or even “Thank you.” He had moved several times without leaving any address or email address. I went on with my life, came home to Oregon, and retreated to my crow’s nest of a home to write.

I had just let him in the front door with a “Hi”, when he passed by me and disappeared into the bedroom, where he kicked off his shoes and lay down on my bed. We didn’t speak, because that’s not what we did in reality. It brought back memories of everything done in silence, and I don’t ever remember being spoken to before, during or after the love we shared. After all, in those days I had been relegated to being his slave, and slaves don’t speak. His fingers laced behind his head, he looked up at me expectantly, and I, out of habit looked at the floor.

I obediently and silently began to take my clothes off. That’s the way it always was, me silently doing exactly what I was supposed to do, blushing, and him watching with pleasure. I began with the buttons on my dress.

There were six of them, as the dress unbuttoned down the front, I let it slide to the ground. I towered over him in my heals with my garters still attached to the black fish net stockings with the seems up the back. I never wore panties because for many years he forbad me to, and a bra was out of the question. I remembered bouncing so badly in high school that the counselor had to tell me to wear a brassiere or else I couldn’t come back to school. She told me that I looked like a whore and that I was distracting everybody. Shortly after that I dropped out of school.

Then, I took off the tiny jeweled string I used as panties, as he never allowed me to wear panties. He wanted me always available to him. But lately I had learned to crochet pretty little undies with the lovely jewelry that clients had given me. The men loved the “panties” which were just skimpy little strings that ran in between my pussy lips, and around my hips. I untied the little bow in the back and the delicate string dangled to the floor, laying in sparkles at my feet. I could feel myself getting wet and big, and I could feel my clit beginning to protude from my pussy lips and dangle there.

I stood nude before him with the exception of the stockings, garter belt and black heels. I turned around in a circle for his inspection and bent over and stretched towards the floor so he could see my ass and that I had shaved my pussy completely. It had all become a habit, and I didn’t even think about what I was doing really. My men friends loved this antic about me, and asked why I did it. I could never figure out why until recently. My pendulous tits swung and bounced as I stood up and walked across the room to pull up the blinds and swing around the fire pole I had installed in the room years before. I pressed myself against it and my cunt juices glistened on the pole “No no Puss, don’t do that. I didn’t come for that today”.

I stood in silence looking at him and stepped out of the heels. I looked down and saw my teats sticking straight out. Those had been my humiliation years ago. I couldn’t control what my body would do when he was around. “Haha Daddy.” Not even a titty fuck? Sure? S’up?”

“Nah. Not this time. I just want to lay here beside you and hold you. Come ‘er.”

I was twenty seven, and as I recollected, my father had not held me tenderly since that first night more than a decade before. I could only remember the fondling, pinching, clamping and being filled up with his cock inside me. Sometimes there had been his friends’ cocks inside me too. But never just laying there. Never just talking.

I had been taught to get up and hustle. And that night I stood nude before him, wiggling back and forth, impatient for the party to begin, my pussy all pink, and scrupulously hairless, getting bigger by the second, and my teats stretched to their full two inches.

Nudity was much more pleasant than wearing clothing by this time. It always turned me on. In the past years, I stopped wearing clothes for days at a time, often going outside to garden and hang with the neighbors in the nude.

I once had a client who asked me to come to his office in the middle of the day to strip for him and anybody else who wanted to watch. He’d leave his office door open, and there I’d be, happy and free while everybody else was swallowed up in layers upon layers of heavy tight clothes. When I was nude, he’d ask me to walk around the office and “help out” the guys for the rest of the day. He called me his funny little bennie.

Daddy looked at me expectantly but the thought of laying next to my father for anything other than sexy love revolted me.

My stomach began to turn.

“Come here Puss, what’s this here?” He giggled as I walked close to the bed and he fondled my clit. “Don’t feel so bad about it, okay?” I filled his palm with my wet. It felt so good, actually better than any of the other guys. I got such a hit, and began to sway deliciously. He cupped it in his hand, and it became erect with pleasure. I felt the nerves at its tip quicken.

“Remember when it all came out Pussy? God, what a day. I tried that pump on you, on that teeny weeny little body, and before you knew it, poof! There is was, right in my hand, so warm and little then.” He smiled at the recollection and squeezed a little harder. I smiled because his hand and fingers felt so warm and good. I was almost there.

“Well then, what’s - your - pleasure Daddy?” I began to gasp.

“Oh, I thought we’d just lay here together and spoon awhile, talk about old times, and then, well, I don’t know. He continued to squeeze and release. Then he’d press the tip so lightly. I’ll be moving away soon, and it’ll be a long time before I see you again. You know, that cute little dish in Arkansas.” I began to mount as I leaned towards the bed to sit down. “Oh, no, no, don’t sit, no sitting. He continued to squeeze. She’s so cute, and she’s pregnant as hell. God you should see her belly just so, so swollen. Crap, the family said they’d call the police unless I stay with her for awhile, and well, you know, pay them way too much money for that little piece of crap.

I began to have the pleasant sensation of letting go. “Please Daddy, oh please, just let me si-“

The week before he had showed me a picture of the girl. She was just a young girl of standing in the nude beside him with her belly all swollen and protruding with their baby. She looked like a baby herself. “Those filthy bitches. God I hate em. They have nothing to offer, nothing, except.” His faced tightened in anger.

“The spasms began in my womb and at first clenched hard and deep, keeping me in their hold. Then the electricity shot to my clit, down my legs, and up to my brain. “Christ Daddy!!” I spilled my cunt juices into his hand and all over his shirt. “ Oh god, I’m so sorry. I’m so sorry Daddy. I couldn’t help it.” I opened the nightstand drawer to find something to mop up my mess.

“She wasn’t supposed to have told.” Dad continued without skipping a beat, and I stood on my long legs the aftershocks pulsing against the base of my spine. “God I hated it when that belly got bigger and bigger. It just got too big for such a young girl. It couldn’t have been mine Puss, she was just a cheap little whore, just a cheap whore. It couldn’t have been. She wasn’t even supposed to have had her seventeenth birthday for Chrissakes! How could I know she was fertile?! Nobody told me! Stupid DNA testing. Never would have happened years ago.”

He looked at me sorrily. And every little girl can’t stay silent, I thought. Especially with her belly sticking out like that. I felt so sorry for her with her life ruined and stuck with a kid at such a young age, and he’d probably do her again and again, and then having her turn tricks for him too in order to pay for all the babies. The thought of laying with him, being cuddled by him whatever that meant, or snuggled, or even talking horrified me.

Daddy had taught me that it really was all my fault. If I hadn’t grown those cute titties, and if I hadn’t taken off my top all the time and flashed him, when I was little, he never would have even thought about sharing me. If I had just been fatter or taller or whatever. If I hadn’t taken my tops off, all of this never would have happened.

But truth be told, I couldn’t remember any other kind of life. He told me all young girls loved their daddies and played with them. That’s what we were there for. Again, I believed him. Times were different then. I felt the metallic taste in my mouth getting stronger and stronger and thought “I can’t, I just can’t.”

It was the first time I had ever flat out refused him. “What if I just give you a cock massage Daddy?” I sat down beside him smiled, and began to unzip his pants. Sweat ran down my chest and back and I began to work him.

“No Pussy. I just don’t think I could even get it up with you anymore. You’re just too old.” Ignoring what he had just said and suddenly remembering all the men whose cum was hot and quicki, I unbuttoned the top button of his pants and reached my hand in and around his warm cock. It was getting hard, not quite as fast as it used to, but definitely hard. I knew I could do it. If I just tried a little harder, maybe I’d make him happy.

“You’re hard Daddy, here, I’ll help it.”

“No Pussy, I told you I don’t want to -- No!” He flashed in anger at me.

“Well, this is strange,” I began to speak up. Just the other week you came over and had me in the ass right over there in the middle of the floor, right there. I pointed to the area in the middle of the room. It didn’t seem to be that difficult then!”

“I know but today -“

“Dad, today is no different than yesterday or today or ten years ago. I know I’m not as young as you like them, but you come to me for this. I’m a whore, your own special cheap little prostitute! My job is to pleasure you and I love it. I know how to do this. After all the years I bent over for you and all those men and took it in the ass, and all those times I had to suck cock all night long for you and your friends, and then just last week -- we’re not suddenly going to lay down together and just be like daddy and daughter. There’s something wrong with it, and I can’t do it!”

“Why? I just want to say good bye, make our peace together and leave with my heart sort of right with you.”

I looked at his penis long and hard waving out of the fly of his pants. I patted it and stroked it, then I rapped my fingers around it and began to pump lightly, just like he liked it. “This is what I do Daddy. This is what I’m good at. This is me, and what I can give you.” I released his cock from the last confines of his pants and caressed his balls as I slowly got up on the bed, hovered over him, and warmly pressed my lips around his long hot cock and slid it through my mouth and completely down my throat. He closed his eyes and gulped.

He reached down and fondled my left tit with his hand gently and smiled. The teat extended through his fingers and he squeezed hard. I winced and he did it again. Tears came to my eyes and I pumped harder. Just the way I liked it. I bent over his cock and pressed down and slid up, long and evenly, and as I moved I felt my tits swing back and forth in rhythm with my sucks.

“God! Great tits Baby. Oh, I’m c-c-coming. How much fun we’ve had together.” He pinched my teats hard and held on, then reached around and snapped the garter. I laughed with his cock completely down my throat. My lips gently caressed his balls. He smacked me hard on my ass, and then again. “Go Pussy, go.” His cum came with an explosion, filling my throat, mouth and sinuses with its cream. It sprayed out of my nose and all over my face as I sucked the last drop out of him and to his convulsions and shudders of pleasure.

“Such a fine little whore. Daddy’s little whore. My Little Pink Pussy.”