7. Father's dick, Son's dick (1)

“You really have to trust me on this, Jane,” he continued. I listened with keen interest.

“I'm much more of a good pussy eater than my father is. I swear with everything in me.

“You have to give me a chance to fuck you, and I trust you; you'd be mesmerized by how prolific I am with a woman's body.”

“I have got to go, John…” I demanded. Leaving him speechless. He has been bragging a whole lot since the evening. Deafening my ears with boring tales of how good he was in bed and much better than his father, “allegedly.”

John knew from the onset that I was never going to fall for any of his sugar-coated and perfidious boring tales. I was never attracted to males of my age. He was 27, and I was 25. His father was 65, bigger and better than any of the men I have dated in the past. I knew he (John) knew I was just a paramour. His wife, his mother, was already out of the picture literally.

I knew John had been crushing on me heavily for years, and all his attempts to make me his lover had all proved abortive. The last straw that broke the camel's back was when he returned from his self-vacation in Taiwan and met me in my birthday suit and in his father's room. He hasn't spoken to him about it, but he has been endlessly trying to get me to talk, and today was the first time I had succumbed to his endless pleas to meet up with me.

“I can love and treat you better than my father, Jane. Just give me a chance to prove myself worthy of your heart and body.” He tried to hold onto my hand, stretching slowly, but I had technically dodged it. I was oddly scared that his father, my lover, would see us and suspect I was cheating on him already with his son.

“John,” my timbre was low, but relatively audible. He muttered some words indistinctly, which I comprehended to be, “You're breaking my heart, Jane.”

“Let's meet up in my apartment tomorrow. Dinner” I nervously stuttered, anticipating to see him elated, but he only slightly and momentarily raised his shoulder. I don't know if the shrug was to express doubt or indifference to my invitation. I knew John wanted to fuck me. He has always wanted that for three years, and tonight would be the first time I'd let him make it out of his bucket list.

He stared at me for some seconds. I couldn't fathom, smiled, and stood up to leave.

“Dinner in your place. Make sure you don't wear those panties.” I chuckled at the sudden astonishment on his face.

I'd hear his engine kick to life. He drove out. I looked around. There were just a few people in the bar. I hurriedly gulped down the last residue of the glass. Belched mildly and then stood up to leave.

“Gracias” The waiter waved at me after taking back the glass and the extra Benjamin Franklin notes I left for him.

I knew it wasn't the right thing to do, but it'd be the first time to try and probably the last as well. I have tasted his father's dick for months. Tonight was the first time I'd have to compare and contrast if they were of the same magnitude, gustatory sensation, or indeed if genes were different.

-

“Holy Mary. You're stunning, Jane. This was the first statement he made immediately after I had opened the door for him. For a minute or two or less, he stood at the door, not knowing if he was to go inside, make another compliment, or start eating me from the entrance. I knew he loved what he was seeing. He'd never have imagined that he'd have me on a platter of gold anytime soon.

I had seen him drop off from his car and headed to my doorstep, while I, in turn, went to put on the most skimpy and revealing gown I had. I did not need to be told that I had possessed this aura of seduction, which was the only attraction I couldn't resist.

“Do you like what you see?” I whispered, pouting out my tongue and running it slowly from the left part of my upper lip to the right part of my lower lip.

“I—I love what I am seeing, Jane. I fucking love it,” he stuttered. Breathing shakily. I love how fascinated he was upon seeing me.

“If indeed you love what you're seeing, then come eat it without table manners.” I winked seductively, removed my hand from the doorknob, and walked away slowly and in a lofty manner. I heard the door creak, then the lock sound.

I was in the center of the room. He was standing behind me. His hands felt so warm and comforting on my skin. I tried so hard to prevent the goosebumps from appearing on my skin, but his touches, soft, tender touches, were exceptional. I couldn't help but shiver. He knew what he was doing. He knew how to do it. I felt my breath gradually taken away. His hand seduction was a good one, and without any of us saying anything else since the last time we spoke at the entrance, he turned me slowly, and our lips found their way into each other's mouths. Our tongues journeying towards each other like we've missed each other for a long time, when in reality, it was the first time we'd come close to each other. His kisses felt so good, unlike his father's. I was trying so hard not to compare the two, but boy, John had the highest degree of kissing theory, and his hands just knew where it ought to be, when to be, and how to be there as he was softly fondling my breast. I eased him from the stress of trying to pull it down as the gown went down easily, and I was stacked naked in front.

His blue eyes are staring lustfully at me.

“Fuck me, John. Fuck me. Fuck me like you've always wanted, hoped for, dreamed of, and prayed for because this would be your last. He chortled.

“You think so?” He cupped my right breast, twiddling it with a purposeless motive.

I wanted to say yes, but John was oddly irresistible. I couldn't say a word. I tried to open my mouth and say one, but I ended up swallowing a lump. I was inhaling and exhaling rapidly. My legs suddenly felt heavy for my weight, and I could feel my wetness, dripping down to my thigh. He knew I couldn't say or do anything. I was at his mercy.

He then stroked my hair a bit, pushing me softly. I landed on my back on the couch. He smiled.

“I am going to fuck you like the bitch that you are, and when I am done, you'd never choose my father over a younger dick like me. For the first time in our five hours of meeting, I shut my eyes heavily in guilt, but then, what I was about to do was what I couldn't just say no to anymore. My pussy was yearning for his cock, which was already growing larger in size, and its bulge was making a print in his pants.

“Wouldn't you want to take your clothes off?” I finally asked the question that was in my head throughout the whole time he was there.

He was mute, lowered his body, bent his knees towards me, and his fingers went to my pussy. I sighed heavily. His fingers went in first, one, then a second one. The first scratching on my clitoris, making me shake. I held onto the couch. firmly. Then he started throbbing my pussy. His fingers went in and out of me rhythmically. His finger fuck was heavenly. He started at a slow motion, then the tempo increased rapidly as he started searching endlessly for my G-spot, which in no time he was able to locate, and that was the beginning of my first orgasm for the night.

“Fuck John!!” I screamed amidst pleasure, made to hug him, but he had pushed me down and rested his hand on my chest, making it nearly impossible for me to escape whatever it was that was coming my way.

My fluids flooded his palm. Thick and light. My legs were shaking. I was trembling. I wanted more than just his fingers.

“Get ready to be banged, you whore. Then tell me which is better, my dick or my father's.”

He stood up, made to unhook his belt.