My Father, My Bully Ch. 01

I never knew my father growing up.

I realize, upon saying that, just how common a sentiment that is, especially within my generation. I suppose that if anything really sets me apart from others who grew up that way, it was the absolute, impenetrable wall of silence and secrecy regarding my father during my tentative years, and more importantly, how radically my life changed upon meeting him.

But I'm getting ahead of myself. Let me start from the beginning.

My name is Mark Gordon. I am 25 years old, an only child, and recently engaged to the love of my life, Mandi Jackson. Don't worry, we will get to her later. First, let me take you all the way back to my childhood.

I was raised by a single mother, an absolute gorgeous creature named Juliana. Juliana O'Donnell to be exact ( she and my father never married). I had a nice, modest upbringing in a quiet suburb of Pennsylvania. My mom made a decent income and I never ceased to be amazed at how much she could stretch her wages to not only meet our basic needs, but also give me the best childhood possible. Honestly, every Christmas and birthday were next level, and I don't think that I appreciated at the time just how much effort my mom put into making those memories for me, or just how much she denied herself to make it happen. I wish I had taken the time before to really think about it, to really let her know just how much it really meant to me.

Though we weren't exactly the upper crust in our little town, we were at the very least lower middle class, which put me in good company with most of the other kids my age. I had a pretty substantial little group of friends and seemingly always had someone over or was going over to someone else's house, so I guess that it never really occurred to me just how lonely my mom was. She didn't really have any friends, and didn't really interact with anyone outside of co-workers and, of course, me. She had living parents and siblings, but for reasons unclear to me at the time, there was just no contact between them. I asked about it one time when I was 10, and my mom didn't really give me a clear answer, but the forlorn look in her eyes told me pretty much all I needed to know. I never asked again.

My mom got diagnosed with breast cancer when I was 16. Naturally, it hit me like a brick wall, but it didn't really seem to change her demeanor. If she was worried or anything, she kept it hidden from me. She continued to be the supportive, surface level of happy mom she always had been.

When I turned 18 and got my license, I wasn't expecting much. Yet my mom still managed to have a car waiting for me in the driveway when I got home. It was a used 2012 Kia with 65,000 miles, but to me, it was better than a brand new Ferrari. I tried to refuse the gift as I felt that there were a number of more worthy causes we could have devoted that money to, but my mom wouldn't hear of it. I don't know how much she paid for it, and I knew that she wouldn't tell me if I asked. She was and still is the most selfless, loving woman I have ever known.

She had gotten very thin and frail at that point, and no longer seemed to be reacting to treatments. She was still so young - she was only 36 when I turned 18 - and beautiful, and I hardly recognized this fragile, haggard seemingly ancient creature pretending to be my mom. It wasn't enough that cancer was robbing me of my mom - must it also rob her of her youth and vitality in her final days?

One night we were sitting together on our couch, my arm around her, her head on my shoulder, her shallow breathing being the only sounds in the house. Finally, she sighed, and said in a trembling voice, "When I am gone... it's probably best that you go live with your father, and let him take care of you for a while. I reached out to him about a month ago, and he was receptive to the idea."

The silence was deafening, and to me it felt as though time had stood still. My father...? He was alive? And he knew about me?

I didn't know if I should feel angry, heartbroken, confused or what, so I settled on a combination of those emotions. My mom lifted her head from my shoulder and with considerable effort, made her way over to the shelf next to the television. This shelf was a cluttered mess, housing our DVD and BluRay collection, a smattering of books, some potted plants my mom attempted to nurse back to life, and her ceramic cat collection. My mom bent over with a groan and rifled through the books on the fourth shelf, before finally finding what she was looking for. She pulled out an oblong, odd shaped book and staggered back to the couch.

I hated watching her move. It reminded me of all that had been taken from her as she moved about like an elderly person, and it broke my heart.

She reclaimed her seat next to me, and opened the book up, thumbing through it's pages. I had never really seen a photo album before; it seemed a bit of an anomaly in the digital age. Yet here my mom was, thumbing through a collection of different snap shots of different people throughout the ages, none of whom I recognized. I assumed that a good amount of them were her family, and I had no desire to re-open those old wounds.

Finally, she came across a picture of, if I am to be honest, the almost living incarnation of white trash. A white man seemingly in his 50s or 60s, with a mullet of silver hair cascading beneath a Harley Davidson baseball cap. He wore sunglasses though the picture was obviously at night, and his wrinkled face was offset with a grey handle bar mustache. He wore a black Miller Lite shirt with the sleeves cut off not unlike a muscle shirt, though there were no muscles to be seen. He lifted a long neck bottle of Miller Lite towards the camera, as if toasting it. My mom's thin, bony finger landed upon him.

"There. That's him. J. D. Livingston. That's your father."

I don't know what to say. My mind was racing with a thousand differing thoughts, and I felt a flurry of conflicting emotions. A good sized part of me wanted to reach through the picture and punch the son of a bitch, not just for abandoning me, but for the real unforgivable sin : for breaking my mother's heart.

I looked over at my mom, and she had a winsome smile upon her lips, and her eyes glistened with emotion. I had all sorts of questions, but looking at him, and then looking at my mom... I guess that was when I first noticed the age disparity. He was all ready an older looking man with grey hair in this picture, and given that it was indeed a real, tangible picture, that called into question how long ago it might have been taken. I thought for a moment, trying to choose the appropriate words, then cleared my throat as I proceeded.

"So, uh... how did you guys, like, meet?"

I should have known by my mom's body language and reaction to this question that it wasn't going to be good. She covered her face with her hands, perhaps in grief, perhaps in shame... then answered.

"Well, uh... J. D. was actually dating my mother when I first met him. He was just so... different than the other guys she dated after divorcing dad. My mom - your grandmother - well, you know, she was a professor at the local college, and was very well read. And your grandfather was a doctor, which I believe that I might have told you before... anyway, following the divorce, she initially dated people of the same ilk - professionals, scholars, even an author or two. Anyway, she ended up going to some outside concert one night, and that's where she met J. D. He was a little bit older than her, he was a drop out, a drunk... very rough and uncouth. My mom was initially a little repelled by him, but I guess that there was something so unrelentingly... MALE about him, this raw masculinity, that she was just drawn to him. He was very aggressive and overt in flirting with her, and well... my mom went to the concert with the town veterinarian, but ended up leaving with J. D., and going to his trailer house that very night. From what I understand, it was quite the little scandal in our social circle."

My mom reached over to her cup of brewed tea and sipped it thoughtfully, her mind finally giving memories long repressed and hidden away free reign to run within the fields of her mind.

"I was a junior in high school when she started dating him. I was still trying to heal from the divorce myself - you know that every girl's first love is her dad. I was still very upset about the whole affair, and I hadn't made it easy on my mom with any of the stuffy, boring would-be replacements she had tried to bring home, and I had every intention of being just as tough on this J. D., the minute I heard his motorcycle roaring through our cul-de-sac and pulling into our driveway."

As if on cue, my mom flipped a page to show me what I assumed to be her childhood home - a very palatial, elaborate two story structure in what appeared to be a very exclusive neighborhood. It looked like something out of an advertisement - the lawn was lush and green, replete with a blossoming garden and well maintained shrubbery. The house was an immaculate white colour with yellow paneling and trim on the windows... simply put, it was posh, and very beautiful.

"You can only imagine the scandal when this dirty old man in a sleeveless shirt came roaring into our little neighborhood on his motorcycle. The elderly neighbors likely feigned fainting, while the younger ones had their phones in hand, ready to dial 911. They probably thought that he had come to rob us, so when my mom came running out to meet him in her sundress, and he picked her up and twirled her around... oh, what I would have given to see their faces!"

She chuckled to herself at this, but I remained stone faced. I was rapt in my attention - mom NEVER talked about her family, and here she was reminiscing fondly and even laughing at the memories. Her joy seemed to be genuine, and not just the result of a few too many painkillers as well.

The joy wouldn't last.

"She was eager to introduce us to him, so a couple of nights after meeting him she invited him over for dinner. She was a woman possessed... she was addicted to this man, and couldn't seem to get enough of him. I looked forward to the dinner, if for no other reason than to see him with my own eyes, and determine how he had bewitched my mother."

"So he shows up, and he's wearing the same sweaty cap, sleeveless shirt and stained denim jeans that he is in this picture. Hell, looking back, I don't even know if he had any other clothes. He shows up, and Bryce - my brother - Sandra, my little sister who was 3 at the time, and I, all feel like we are just going to FAINT! THIS guy? THIS is who our mother is so gaga over? We couldn't see it, and Bryce was convinced that mother was simply going through a midlife crisis."

She turned the page, and there was another picture of J. D., this time posing next to his motorcycle while a dog of indeterminate breed sat next to him. "He walks in, a six pack of beer beneath his arm... he shakes Bryce's hand so firmly that Bryce's face contorted in pain. Then he comes to me, and lowers his sunglasses as if to get a better look at me... then he whistles, and says that if dinner is half as delectable as I am, then he's in for a treat! Keep in mind that I had JUST turned 18, and he says this right in front of our mother - who he was supposedly dating at the time. I was shocked. SHOCKED!

Anyway, he sits between mother and I during dinner, and of course his dining habits and topics of conversation were ill mannered and deplorable. Bryce was infuriated. And then, right there beneath the table, during dinner... I feel him place a calloused hand on my thigh. I was wearing a sundress, not unlike my mother... this old man's rough, wrinkled hand was on my bare thigh! I was shocked, and instantly my body is covered in goose bumps... J. D. keeps talking away and eating as if everything is natural, meanwhile his hand is moving up and down my inner thigh, and I was a virgin at the time, okay? My body felt like electricity was running through it; like I was on fire..."

Mom looked over at me and saw the look on my face, and chuckled, cutting her reverie short. "I don't suppose that any teenage boy wants to hear a graphic description about the time they were felt up beneath the table during dinner, so I will cut the story short. Suffice it to say, he brought me to orgasm there beneath the table... and I had never even been with a boy before. I went to bed that night confused, emotional... and well, turned on. My mom continued to see him, and he became a regular fixture around the house. Whenever he would come around, my stomach would sink and I would feel like I should run and hide... but instead, I tried harder and harder to get his attention. I would wear my volleyball uniform even though there wasn't a game... my shortest of shorts, dresses with nothing on beneath... anything I could to catch his eye. I felt like I couldn't breathe unless I knew that he was looking at me... and when he would 'accidentally' brush up against me, or sneak his hand across my ass or up my dress... God! This was a man in his, what? Late fifties? Dating my mother? Yet I felt like my 18 year old body was craving him..."

I squirmed in my chair uncomfortably. My mom chuckled, patting my leg reassuringly. "I know, I know. But I do have a point. After my mom had been dating him for about three weeks, and he and I had exchanged enough stolen glances and loaded words, I came out of school one day to find him in the parking lot, astride his motorcycle, amidst all the other people in their Mercedes, or their Rolls Royces... you can only imagine the glances he got. Or the glances I got when I hopped onto the bike behind him, and wrapped my arms around him. I asked him if he was going to give me a ride home... he just turned around and winked at me. He took me to the dirtiest, scariest hole in the wall motel I had ever seen, and without even being asked, almost like it was just... understood, I willingly gave my 18 year old body over to this dirty old man. I was on no birth control whatsoever, and he didn't even offer to wear any sort of protection... and I didn't want him to. That man fucked me for almost three hours, and he must have come inside of me at least 4 times."

"JESUS CHRIST, mom!" I exclaimed as I bolted upright. She looked down, her cheeks flush with embarrassment. I instantly regretted my outburst, and without saying anything, sat back down beside her. There was a momentary silence before she continued her story.

"We continued to see each other in secret... he would pick me up from school and take me back to that hotel almost every day, and then see my mom that night. It was so... hard to act like everything was normal when he would come over in the evening and fawn over my mom, meanwhile I still had bits of him leaking out of me from a couple of hours earlier."

I made a motion with my hands, communicating my shock and disgust, and my mom held up a hand, indicating that she understood. "Then he started coming over late at night, after everyone had gone to bed. He would drive this old beat up truck those nights, so that the motorcycle wouldn't wake up the neighborhood - or especially so it wouldn't wake up my mom, and alert her to the fact that her teenage daughter was stealing her boyfriend. He would text me on my phone - that was a bit of a luxury in those days, you know," she punctuated this with a playful elbow to my ribs. "He never asked... he just told me that he was coming over. It wasn't so much an order... it was just understood. I would sneak downstairs, unlock the door, and run back up to my room, and get ready for him. Sometimes he wanted me naked, sometimes he wanted me in the volleyball uniform, sometimes in my pajamas, and of course, a couple of times he wanted me waiting for him in my school uniform. That old fantasy, you know," she said, with a playful roll of her eyes.

"I actually had a boyfriend at the time... and all we had ever done was kiss. Little did he know that almost every day after school, and most nights in the middle of the night, his loving, faithful girlfriend was having marathon sessions of unprotected sex with a man older than any of our fathers. I never really felt guilty about it... not for cheating on my boyfriend, at least. Because, to me, it didn't feel like cheating. It felt like my body belonged to him, so it felt... right. Sure, I felt kind of guilty about fucking my mom's boyfriend... there she was, just a few feet away, asleep and snug in her bed, while on the other side of the wall, her boyfriend was claiming her teenage daughter's body and filling me full of his spunk two or three times over the course of any given day. It was like he couldn't get enough of me, or like he was determined to get me pregnant. Even at eighteen, that thought occurred to me... but rather than scare me, the thought of my swollen teenage body, pregnant with his child, just made me shudder with excitement."

Sure, I was absolutely repulsed by hearing all of this. How could I not be? And worse was the dawning realization that my father was an absolute, alcoholic piece of cheating shit. But I kept my thoughts and reactions to myself, and allowed my mother to continue unburdening herself.

"Anyway, this continued pretty much daily for at least a couple of months. Sometimes he would stay over with my mom, and once she was asleep, he would come into my room and have his way with me for hours. Sure, there was a part of me that was jealous of my mom, possibly even resentful. But I took comfort in the fact that it seemed like I was the one he really wanted to be with, you know? That I was really his, and he was really mine. How else could he manage to have me 2 or 3 times a night? And of course, he never so much as offered to use a condom, and I wasn't on any sort of birth control... and he wouldn't have pulled out even if I asked him to - which I never did." My mom punctuated this thought with a winsome smile, and for the briefest of moments it seemed that her eyes were about to glisten. I was confused... did my mom actually miss this piece of shit?

She reached over to the counter and retrieved a prescription bottle full of painkillers. Her eyes narrowed with strain as she wrestled with the lid, until I shook off the mental cobwebs and took the bottle from her, easily removing the cap. She smiled in appreciation, as she held out an outstretched hand.

"Two, please," she requested. I crooked my head at her, narrowing my eyes sternly. "Two?," I echoed. "Mom, you know how strong these things are."

She looked at me incredulously, then cackled until she coughed, raising a fist to her mouth before unfurling it into an open palm yet again. "And...? I am still your mother, and the resident authority figure here, not to mention the one that's dying of cancer! So drop the lecture, be my faithful son and help dear old mom get some relief, okay?".

Defeated, I plopped two of the oval white devils into her palm. She smiled lovingly at me. "Thank you, baby," she said, before popping them into her mouth and chasing them down with the room temperature water bottle at her side. She sighed with contentment, as she leaned back into the couch.

"Of course, it couldn't go on forever. We were bound to be found out. He was still dating my mom, but had pretty much quit being physical with her, which simply meant all that much more for me. One weekend, he told her that he and some of his biker buddies were going on a drive to the next state. It was a lie, of course, and about 1 o'clock the next morning, he texts me, so I run down stairs, unlock the door, and run back to my bedroom, where I strip down to my bra and panties.

Anyway, he shows up, and immediately he was on me. He stood behind me and kissed my neck while his calloused, wrinkled hands explored my smooth, young body. I could feel his rock hard erection poking up against me, so I start grinding my ass against it. This drives him wild! His hands were rubbing my inner thighs while he was sucking my earlobe, but now they went up to my breasts. He lifted the cup of the bra and started massaging them, his fingers at work on my rock hard nipples. God, I don't know what it was about this fat, disgusting old man, but my body just responded to his every touch, and I wanted him. I had to have him!"

I had seen pictures of my mom as a teenager, and I can vouch for the fact that, despite her being my mother, she was an absolute smoke show. She was a dead ringer for Avril Lavigne when she first came out, except that my mom's hair was more bright red.

Again, if I could just divorce myself from the fact that this was my mom we were talking about, imagining a teenage Avril Lavigne eagerly giving her nubile, teenage body to some disgusting fat old man to do with as he pleased struck me as being incredibly erotic, and I tried not to think about it lest my body begin to respond.

"He rarely needed to engage in foreplay, because I was almost always ready to go as soon as I saw him. That night was no exception. As he played with my little titties, I reached down and peeled down my panties. Reluctantly, I removed myself from his body and turned around to face him. Looking him dead in the eyes, I reached around and unclasped my bra, removing it to expose my modest little breasts. I stood before him, young and stark naked, and utterly his. He was wearing his stained Harley shirt and his biker vest, along with some incredibly stained denim jeans. He removed his sweat covered ballcap, revealing his almost entirely bald dome, with a few whisps of long, grey and white hairs. I joined my hands behind his neck and drew him closer to me, and immediately began devouring his lips with mine. These weren't sensitive, loving kisses; oh no. These were... animalistic and hungry. He filled my mouth with his obscene tongue, and the taste of menthol and alcohol. Eagerly, my tongue explored his mouth, wrestling with his tongue and exploring his missing and cracked teeth.

Usually, he was the dominant one. He took me, and I let him. I was his to fo with as he pleased. But on that night, for the first time ever, I asked something of him. I momentarily ceased our kisses, and whispered into his ear with my hot breath, 'Please, daddy... take off all your clothes. I need to feel your skin against mine.' I followed this request by penetrating his tongue with my ear, tongue fucking his waxy ear canal.

Suddenly, he pushed me off of him. I looked down at the floor, embarrassed. I had gone too far by asking this of him, and therefore forgetting his place. But then slowly he removed his vest and shirt, and then the denim jeans, and finally the stained, barely white tighty whities. He stood before me, completely and utterly naked. I had never really seen him completely naked before, so I drunk it in with my eyes - he was perfect. Faded tattoos on his meaty, flabby bicep, a farmer's tan contrasting a somewhat tan face, neck and forearms with a almost sickly pale white body, a flabby midsection topped by two bulbous little man boobs. His entire torso and even his back was covered in a thick coat of black and silver hair, which also decorated his manhood.

And there it was... this old man's cock which had tamed my wild teenage pussy, before my boyfriend could even see it. His cock wasn't huge or anything, but it was THICK. It looked gnarled and angry like a twisted tree stump, covered in thick grey hair which nearly concealed his balls. The almost oversized tip glistened with his pre-cum, and every feminine part of me tingled with anticipation and hunger at seeing it."

She lifted the bottle of water to her lips, but it simply hovered there for nany moments, as her eyes and her mind went back 18 years to this life altering moment. She took a swig and gently wiped away the excess with the back of her hand, before saying in a quiet tone, "I knew then, in that moment, I belonged to him and that cock. I knew it had this... POWER over me, and I would give up anyone or anything - including my family - to have it. I threw my left hand around his thick, burly neck and drew him into another deep, craven kiss, as my right hand possessively locked around his thick, hairy shaft. I pumped it vigorously as I also guided that swollen tip to the entrance of my hungry teenage pussy that it knew so well. My left arm around his neck pulled him towards me as I stepped backwards, gently falling onto my bed behind me. My right hand deftly guided him into my womanhood, which was beyond wet with anticipation for him. He moaned into my mouth as he penetrated me, my teenage tightness gradually giving way to his swollen elderly cock, taking him in inch by inch even as it clasped tightly around him, eager to milk him for all he was worth.

I spread my legs to allow toom for his massive belly, and I wrapped my legs around his midsection, holding him inside of me and not giving him the option to pull out. I groaned into his ear as I hungrily sucked his earlobe into my mouth, 'Take me, daddy. Own me, use my body, and please, daddy, please cum inside of me. Please. Domesticate my teenage body by putting your child inside of me.'

I guess that this was the motivation that he needed, because he began to growl like an animal as he started pounding my pussy steadily and deeply. I no longer cared about being quiet - I belonged to him, and I wanted the world to know! I moaned loudly as my differently colored nails dug into his hairy, flabby back, trailing their way down to his pale, dimpled hairy ass. My nails dug into his ass cheeks, guiding his thrusts into me as our mouths met yet again in a twist of lips and tongues, smacking and swirling as the sounds of our age gap bodies clapping together in mad lust filled the room, as did the sharp scent of my feminine releases as I coated his fat old cock in my she-cum. He groaned as my pussy clasped his cock tighter, and the headboard of my bed began to rock against the wall with our violet love making. On the other side of that very same wall, my mom lie in her bed, presumably asleep, and unaware that just a few feet away her teenage daughter is willingly giving herself over to her mom's old boyfriend, her young teenage pussy growling in hunger for his thick, hot seed."

I was dimly aware of the fact that my breathing was becoming shallow, and my heart was beginning to race. There was a familiar tingle of arousal in my groin - not because of my mom, but in my mind's eye, a young Avril Lavigne was having her body ravaged by a tattooed Wilford Brimley. Something about the taboo nature of such an extreme age gap aroused me - blissfully unaware at the time of just how such forbidden sexual unions between my elderly father and young, nubile teenage girls would come to ruin my life and wreck my self esteem. Undeterred, my mom continued narrating her real life Penthouse Letter.

"I could feel my petite body pinned to my bed beneath his weight, and his hairy floppy tits slapped me in the face as he plowed me, so I opened up my mouth and sucked his nipple into there, suckling and nibbling on it like a newborn. This must have done the trick because he groaned deeply, wrapping both of his sweaty, massive arms around my head and pulling me closer to him, his man breast now fully in my mouth, his bristly grey chest hairs tickling against my tongue as I eagerly breastfed upon him. His thrusts slowed down but seemed to go deeper, and I could feel him swelling inside of me. I moaned with a mouthful of his man-tit in my mouth as I spasmed towards another orgasm, coating his cock in my juices and my scent. Reluctantly, I momentarily freed my mouth from his chest, and whispered into his ear, 'Daddy... claim me as yours and yours alone... let me give you what she can't... let me give you a baby, Daddy. Please... cum inside of my fertile pussy and let me give you a child... make me pregnant, Daddy. Please... make me yours...', I then resumed devouring his nipple and hairy tit, before turning my attention to the other one. I don't know where it came from, but at that moment I wanted nothing more than to be fat and swollen with his child, to show the world how utterly he owned me, and not having to hide it anymore. Let my mom see it. Let my boyfriend see it. Let him see my pregnant belly and know in his heart that he didn't do this to me - an old man did. A fat old drunk biker did what he couldn't do and took my teenage body for his own, and put his child in me as a sign of ownership. The thought of my boyfriend crying about this made me groan and my pussy spasm again, but this time I wasn't alone. His big thick hand pressed against the back of my head, forcing me further into his chest, my mouth full of his hairy chest flesh. I nibbled and suckled his titties as I felt his ancient cock swell, then begin to twitch and spasm deep inside of me. He had cum inside of me multiple times by that point so I was familiar with the sensation and what it meant, but this time it felt different. It felt more meaningful, like... like he was truly signing a pact of ownership onto me as he filled my fertile, unprotected teenage pussy with his virile, drunken old man cum. I moaned into his tit as I felt that familiar warm, sticky sensation deep inside of me, and I growled like an animal as I felt it begin to drip down my groin and my ass crack. I sucked and bit his hairy tit until I left a massive hickey there, then released it as I looked up into his eyes. He looked back into mine, panting, as I felt more cum dribbling out of him and into my eager pussy.

He gently began to brush the hair out of my face, and as he looked down into my eyes, he asked, 'Are you mine?'. I shook my head in the affirmative, but this displeased him, so he slapped my bare ass cheek, hard enough to leave a red handprint. My eyes reflexively teared up from the stinging sensation. He grabbed my chin with his thumb and forefinger, making me look in his eyes which narrowed with intent. He repeated the question, 'Are you mine?'. I cleared my throat, and in a trembling voice, I answered, 'Yes, Daddy.'

'Mine alone?'

'Yes, Daddy.'

'Is that pussy and your body exclusively mine? Nobody else can touch it?'

'Yes, Daddy. No, Daddy. Just you.'

'You're going to break up with that faggot boyfriend of yours?'

'Yes, Daddy'.

'Tonight?'

'Yes, Daddy.'

'Over the phone? Make him listen to you breaking his heart while I fuck your teenage pussy?'

'God, yes, Daddy.'

'And you agree to be my breedsow? As many kids as I want out of you?'

'Yes, Daddy. I promise.'

'You'll drop out of school to be my pet full time?'

I was amazed at how quickly these answers came from me, with absolutely no hesitation or regret on my part. What had he done to me?

'Yes, Daddy. I will please you full time.'

Seemingly pleased with my answers, he began to lower his lips to mine, but I stopped him for a moment with a hand on his shoulder. He looked more surprised than angry, luckily.

'Daddy?,' I asked in my most innocent tone. 'Can I ask one thing of you?'

He turned his head slightly as he regarded me, with just a bit of suspicion. 'Oh? What's that?'

I swallowed, gathering the strength to ask what I had been wanting to ask of him for some time now. 'Can... can you stop having sex with my mom, please? Just be mine... anytime you need a release, I will be there, but please... not with her. Not anymore. Use me. Please?'

He looked into my eyes, as if attempting to gauge my seriousness. Seeing how much it meant to me, he smiled. 'Okay, my little girl. No more of her. Just you.'

He leaned down closer to me, and I wrapped my slender right arm around his neck, pulling him closer as we kissed deeply and hungrily. Our bodies still attached, my corrupted pussy overflowing with his spent seed, I instinctively began to grind my groin against him, as my fingertips explored his hairy back and ass crack. Deep inside of me, I felt his manhood slowly begin to twitch back to life, so I bucked my hips harder against his, grinding against his dick every time our groins met. His kisses became more urgent as he hardened inside of me, and I knew that if I kept this up, he wouldn't last long.

My eyes rolled back into my skull as I ground myself against his cock, that lovely cock that now belonged only to me, coming down from a lesser orgasm as I opened my eyes, and that's when I saw her.

In my doorway stood my mom, clad in her pajamas and a bath robe, her hands covering her mouth as her eyes glistened with tears of anger and betrayal.

I felt a cold shudder travel down my spine, a momentary sensation of guilt and regret. But these feelings were short lived next to the immense waves of pleasure his thrusts were giving me as I pounded and ground against him. I looked my mother deep in her eyes and she looked into mine as I bit my bottom lip, wrapped my legs around his body again and fucked him for all I was worth.

'Is that your teenage pussy, Daddy?', I asked. He snorted like a maddened beast as his cock continued to lay claim to me.

'Fuck yeah', he snorted. 'Just mine. Nobody else's!'

'Are you going to put a baby in that pussy, Daddy?,' I asked, narrowing my eyes as if challenging my mom. J. D. simply grunted and squealed like a pig in heat.

'At least one', he shot back.

'And that's the only pussy you are going to be fucking, Daddy?', I asked. He breathed his hot breath into my air, making the center of my brain tingle.

'Just your young pussy, little girl,' he shot back. 'It's all I need!'. Of course, that was a fucking lie, but I didn't know that at the time.

My mom continued to look into my eyes, but now her arms were folded over her chest, and her eyes looked lifeless and dull. This didn't deter me.

'Prove it, Daddy. Cum inside my tight young, high school pussy again. Fill me up... fertilize my eggs with your old man seed...'

I guess that J. D. enjoyed dirty talk, because me talking like that seemed to do the trick. Again, I felt his thickness swell and spasm inside of me, exploding into a thick dribble of his potent DNA. He grabbed the back of my head and forced it back onto his chest, obstructing my view of my mom.

'Suck my nipples while I cum inside of you,' he demanded, and like the obedient teenage servant I was, I obeyed. I opened my mouth and welcomed his hairy, sweaty tit back into mymouth as I focused on the sensation of his flooding my canal. I said a silent prayer, asking God that his seed find my eggs. I was desperate to be pregnant with his baby.

His ass slowly lowered as the thrusting and grinding ceased, and his cock continued to deposit his very essence into me, which I accepted every drop of eagerly, my legs still clasped around his flabby torso. For a few perfect moments, the only audible sounds were him struggling to catch his breath, and the suckling, slurping sounds of me breastfeeding on his hairy teats, which were bigger than mine, by the way.

My mom ruined the bliss of this moment by clearing her throat, a sound which made J. D. freeze and suddenly stop breathing, though I continued to tease him by flicking my tongue over his erect nipple. I continued while my mom spoke in a hurt, trembling, yet authoritative voice.

'I want you to get dressed and get the hell out of here. I never want to see you again. She's 18, but she's still in high school, she's my child, and while she's under my roof, I forbid you to ever see her again. You ever so much as text her again, and I will call the cops on your ass and file a fucking restraining order against you! Do you understand me, J. D.? You fucking piece of shit?'

Still submerged deep inside of me, J. D. nodded his head before finally saying, 'Yes, ma'am. I understand.' Undeterred, I continued to feed on his breasts, which for reasons unknown to me seemed to be bringing me as much pleasure if not more than it did to him!

'I want you out in the next 10 minutes, and I mean out for good,' she hissed at him, her voice breaking with emotion. She then turned her attention to me. 'And once he's gone, we're going to have ourselves a hell of a talk, Julianna. Do you understand me, young lady?'.

'Mmm hmm,' I replied, not willing to spit out his tit to reply. My mom stormed off, and I heard her door slam, followed by the muffled sounds of her sobbing. I continued feeding on J. D.'s chest, my left hand running itself through the back of his neck while the palm of my right hand went down his love handle, towards his ass. I wanted him one more time. He squeezed his eyes shut and gritted his teeth together, the gaps where his teeth were missing or blackened plainly visible as he tried to resist the pleasure of my breastfeeding. 'I... I really should be going, baby. She sounds awful pissed. I can... fuck... I can call you later...'

'Mmm mmm,' I refused, burying my face into his chest as I began to grind my groin against his again. His breathing became quickened, and I could feel his manhood twitching back to life. For an old man, he sure had stamina!

'Little girl,' he cooed. 'What are you doing... it's too risky... she's going to call the cops, baby!'

"Fuck me,' I commanded with my mouth full of his hairy chest. I fed on his nipple like a starving newborn as I began to rub against his groin more vigorously. 'Come on,' I challenged. 'Fuck me one more time. Make her listen to you claiming her teenage daughter as your property, your plaything, and her replacement....' I resumed sucking and nibbling on his nipples and chest meat, which were now covered in my hickeys.

Beaten, J. D. pressed the back of my head further against his chest and he began thrusting into me again. I wrapped my young, slender thighs around his waist again as I looked up at him, my mouth full of his chest meat. "Fuck me hard, Daddy... hard. Make her hear it.'

He began to buck wilder against me, his massive white ass rising and falling as our bodies slapped together, my ankles locked together to ensure that he couldn't pull out. The bed squeaked loudly and once again the headboard began to bang against the wall, mocking my mother on the other side of it. I moaned with my mouth full as he reared his head back. My left hand reached down and cupped his hairy, tight old man balls, rubbing them, coaxing the cum to evacuate there and relocate to my womb, which was eager to receive every drop. I shook my head side to side like a dog with a prized toy as I devoured his old man tits and played with his old man balls, until finally he moaned loud enough that it echoed throughout the house, as I felt him deposit his third potent load into my fertile teenage body. I was certain that, as loud as that session was, Bryce and Sandra were more than likely awake now, if not aware of what was going on. Ten minutes passed, and my mom pushed in my door. She was greeted with the humidity and potent scent of our mingled juices, as well as a huge wet spot on my bed, and nothing more. J. D. had left, and I went with him, with just a handful of clothes. We drove to the shitty trailer park where he lived, and from then on, I was his. I dropped out of school and devoted myself completely to servicing and pleasing him, and I was fulfilled. I was pregnant very soon, with you, I might add," she said, placing a loving hand onto my leg and smiling at me.

"Shortly thereafter, I reached out to my family, if for no other reason than to see if they wanted to meet my baby once he came. I never heard back from them. I suppose they disowned me, and I get it."

I was flabbergasted. "I mean, look... I know that she was probably hurt and probably pissed, but not even becoming a grandmother was enough to get her to reach out to you?," I asked, incredulous. My mom simply shook her head sadly.

"No... nothing. I did end up hearing from Sandra not too long ago, but that was about it. It hurt, but you and J. D. were my life, and I so desperately wanted to give him more kids."

She lowered her head sadly, as I blinked in confusion, trying to process everything. "So... what happened? Did he end up beating you or something?", I asked.

My mom shot up her head at this, brow furrowed. "Beat me? J. D.? Never! He never once put his hands on either one of us in anger, no matter how drunk he got."

I wrinkled my nose, absent mindedly scratching my arm. "Okay, sooo... why all the secrecy about him over the years? Why did you leave him?"

"Leave HIM?," she roared back. "I did no such thing! I was very dedicated to him."

"Okay, so what happened then?"

She sighed sadly, obviously not reopening a treasured memory. "You were a couple of years old, so when we would go out, or if I was working, we would hire a babysitter. It was the kid sister of one of my high school friends. She was probably 15 or 16 when we hired her, and she worked out great. A little Mexican number named Esmeralda. Really small, really petite, really quiet and timid. He would give her rides home on his Harley, but I knew nothing was going on because he was always back in a matter of minutes."

She stood up now, with considerable effort, and walked back over to the shelf, placing the photo album back into it's place. "Then came her 18th birthday," she said, her back to me, head lowered. "I told her, look! It's your 18th birthday... it only happens once! Go out with your friends and celebrate! But she insisted, so I went to work. I came home at eleven o'clock that night, and there's J. D., sitting in the couch, denim jeans around his ankles. Little petite Esmeralda was wearing absolutely nothing but a little pointy party hat with "18" on it, and she's grinding up and down on his naked cock while kissing him as though it were her last day on this earth. I heard her moan and watched her tremble through an orgasm, right before J. D. looked up and saw me. Right as he saw me, he groaned, pulling her naked little body tightly against his fat belly, kissing her passionately as he shot his seed up into her. As she stayed astride him, kissing like lovers, I politely made my way around them and went to the bathroom."

She then turned around to face me, tears in her eyes. "Yeah, it hurt, but... I would have allowed it. I was 22 at the time, and I was trying hard to get pregnant again. I knew if I did, he would need a plaything, and I was okay with it being Esmeralda. But... he never gave me the chance to be okay with it. Her family called me at work the next day, asking if I knew where she was, and I knew what that meant. Sure enough, they were gone... I looked them up once and they had ended up in Florida. She gave him two kids and was pregnant with his third when he left her for the 18 year old neighbor girl."

Mom walked over to the couch and gently kissed me on the forehead, tousling my hair playfully as she beamed down at me with pride. "I don't regret a thing... I got you out of it, and you are my entire world. You were absolutely conceived in love, and I still love him. I would take him back without a moment's hesitation..."

Following this loaded statement, she excused herself and went to bed, leaving me alone on the couch with a thousand conflicting thoughts. Who was this son of a bitch, and why couldn't he have stayed?!

***************************************************

A few months later, and the cancer had claimed my mom. I was 18 years old, just beginning my Senior Year in high school, and I had nothing, not even so much as an idea of what I was going to do with myself.

The bank foreclosed upon the home, so staying there was not an option. What the hell was I going to do? My mom left me a modest sum; really just enough for me to move somewhere else and start over.

Het funeral was sparsely attended. A few coworkers, a neighbor, and a blonde girl who looked to be about my age. She was a looker, to. She looked something like a young Kirsten Dunst. Too bad she had a noticeably pregnant belly. She kept eyeing me during the funeral, and finally, once it was over, she made her way over to me. She looked into my eyes and smiled a smile that made my heart sing. "Oh my God, it IS you, isn't it?" she asked. "You're Mark, right? Julianna's son?"

I smiled in confusion, trying not to betray my attraction to her. "Uh, yeah... yeah I am. But I am afraid that you have me at a disadvantage. Might I inquire -"

"I'm Sandra, I'm her sister," she said, smiling.

Holy shit. This... this was my aunt?! What the hell is up with my luck?!

I smiled, and tried to shake her hand. She rolled her eyes at me, and hugged me instead. She smelled amazing.

"We're family," she cooed. "Families hug."

"Not all of our family," I shot back. She released me from the hug, looking down with a forlorn expression. "Look... there's a lot of pain still there, okay? But give it time. I'm working on it. Walk me to my car."

We walked short way to her Mercedes, and two blonde children were inside, playing in the air conditioning. A boy and a girl, no older than 5. Plus a third on the way!

"So what are you going to do with yourself?," she asked, squinting from the sunlight as she looked into my eyes. Maybe... maybe she was going to invite me to stay with her?

"I don't know," I answered earnestly. I don't have any money, any plans, nothing. I'm kind of scared, if I can be honest."

She looked down, and summoned a breath of courage. "Have... have you considered reaching out to your dad? He's really not that bad ofa guy, and I think that he would be thrilled to have his son around."

"I don't even know how to get ahold of him," I responded.

"Hmm... hold on a sec." She opened the car door and bent into the front seat, trying to retrieve her purse. I tried to ignore her shapely, beautiful ass, and instead looked over at her other two children, who regarded me suspiciously. Sandra put the purse down onto the driver's seat and opened it, retrieving a scrap of paper and a pin. She took the paper and laid it down with one hand on the roof, and scrawled onto it with blue ink with the other. She turned around and regarded me with that smile again, placing the scrap of paper into my hand. "There ya go!," she cooed.

I looked down at the paper, and in immaculate cursive handwriting, saw the name J. D. Livingston, along with a phone number and an address in Tyler, Texas.

Texas?!

I looked from the paper and to her and back again in confusion. "This... this is him? How did you know -"

I suddenly looked at the two kids in her car, and the one currently cooking inside of her belly. Doing the math in my head, I arrived at the conclusion that she must be 21 / 22 years old, the perfect age for him to be done with someone.

The fact that her cheeks blushed a bright red and she could no longer look me in the eyes validated my suspicions. "Just call him, ok? And don't give up on the rest of us. We just might surprise you yet!"

***************************************************

Two nights later I was sitting on the couch, scrolling through pictures of Mom in my phone. I got up, and retrieved the picture album, thumbing through pictures of family who were strangers to me - all except for my mom, radiant at 18 years old, and looking every but like Avril's stunt double. In one picture she was holding Sandra, who was asleep in her arms. Another one was at Christmas, where mom couldn't have been any older than 12, and was wearing Christmas pajamas, sitting in her mom's lap in front of the Christmas tree. They looked so happy, and the love between them was almost palpable.

Until J. D. came along.

I flipped back over to his picture and studied it intently. He just looked like a fat old drunk; basic white trash. How could one person have so much power over people that they would willingly throw their futures away, just to be with him? What kind of voodoo dick did this guy have, anyway? He had to be in his 70s now, so you think that he would be settling down, but my impregnated aunt who looks like she started popping kids out as soon as she turned 18, so you would be mistaken.

I looked at his expressionless face, unblinking, until it began to distort into bizarre, non human entities. I shook my head and put the picture down.

I just didn't get it.

I had to know.

I reached into my pocket and pulled out the scrap of paper Sandra had given to me. Mmm, it still smelled like her. Wearily, and with no small amount of uncertainty, I picked up my phone and begin punching in the numbers, and with a deep breath, I placed the call.

After two and a half rings, a crochety sounding old man picked up the phone. "Yeah, wuddya want?"

I was stunned into silence. Had I not expected him to answer? I didn't know. I didn't know what I expected, anymore than I knew what to say. The voice snapped me back to reality.

"Hello! What the hell do you want? Huh?"

My mouth opened and closed, but no words seemed to come. Finally, the voice blurted out, "Fuck this," and was prepared to hang up, when I almost involuntarily spat out, "J. D....?"

Silence.

"Yeah, who the hell is this?" he demanded. My heart was racing. I sat up,. nervously rubbing the back of my neck. "This - this is Mark," I said, clearing my throat.

"Who the hell is Mark, and why the hell should I give a shit?" he asked.

"I - I'm Mark Gordon. I'm Juliana Gordon's son "

I squinted my eyes and gritted my teeth as though expecting an automobile collision.

"I'm your son."

The silence seemed to last forever. In reality, it couldn't have been more than 3 or 4 seconds, but they had such a weight to them that in it's duration, civilizations seemed to rise and fall, infants became men and then old men before dying, and the sun itself seemed to burn out. All that remained were those words, hanging in the air.

"I'm your son."

Finally, J. D. seemed to come back to life. "Well, is that right," he said in a pleasant tone. "I'll be. Your mother was good people, Mark. Damn good people. Damn shame what happened, and it's a hell of a loss. She was one of a kind."

I wanted to rant and scream at him and ask why, if she were so good and so unique, why neither one of us were worth hanging around for, but the words didn't come. All that I could intone was a flaccid, "Thanks."

"Well, what about you, boy? You got any kin over there? Whose taking care of you? How old are you, anyhow?"

I stood up and began to pace nervously in circles while I talked. "Uh, no. That is, I really don't have anyone here. No family or anything. The bank is about to take the house back, and I really don't have anywhere to go. Oh, I'm 18."

"I see. You in school, or out of school?"

"I'm, uh, in school still. Senior year. One more to go."

He cackled at this. "Hell yeah, Senior year, boy! Time to party and enjoy your life. And that's what you need to do. Mourn, but get on with your life. Your momma wasn't a quitter, and she sure wouldn't want to see you giving up, now would she?"

"Uh, no. That is - no sir."

He wheezed at this. "Now, now, I appreciate the gesture, but I ain't in the military, son. You can just call me J. D., or hell, you can call me dad if you want to. You ever been to Texas, son?"

"No, s- uh, no, man, I can't say that I have."

He sighed, and hummed, seemingly doing some mental calculations. "Tell you what. Call me about 10 tomorrow morning, all righty? Let's figure out the best way to wire you some money and get you over here to Texas. You can stay with me, if you want. It would be nice to meet my son. Town's not bad and it's got a decent high school. You can at least get your bearings and figure out what you want to do from there. What do you say?"

I felt overwhelmed, excited, but also a little scared. My dad. My fucking dad. This guy who has been more or less a myth to me my entire life, and just in the last several weeks have discovered that he's apparently something of a man whore, the man who as recently as yesterday I was prepared to hate - this same guy is offering me a lifeboat when I need it the most. A new opportunity, a new home, and a dad.

A dad.

"Are... are you sure? It sounds great! Yeah, absolutely! Thank you so much!"

J. D. chuckled warmly at my eager reaction. "No sweat. You're family. Hell, you're not just family - you're my son. You're my son, and I can't wait to meet you. Get some sleep, and call me at 10 AM, and we'll get this figured out. Sound good?"

I shuddered as a tear trickled down my cheek. Thank God he couldn't see it, and let's hope that he can't hear it in my voice.

"Sounds great. This... this means so much to me. You have no idea. Thank you so very much, J. D."

"Call me dad."

And with that, there was a clicking sound, and the line went dead. I put my hands behind my head and stretched myself out over the couch, trying to process everything.

I was going to finally meet my dad. Not only meet him, but hopefully carve out some sort of new life with him.

The tears flowed freely now, and I no longer cared. Tears of relief were a welcome change from the tears of grief that had been keeping me company.

"I miss you, mom," I whispered into nothingness, hoping that, wherever she was now, she would be able to hear it. "I wish you were here. I'm going to be meeting dad soon! Can you believe that?"

I chuckled with genuine relief and even joy as I then closed my eyes, and allowed sleep to slowly steal over my body, my head picturing what life with dad just might look like.

Had I any inkling of what life might look like with my dad, any at all, I would have immediately severed all contact with him and spared myself the heart ache, the betrayal, and the mind fucking that was to come.

But some things you gotta find out for yourself.