Who's Your Daddy?

Who's Your Daddy?

A week at the beach reveals hidden secrets.

"Hey, your child support is late," Brady heard before he could even say hello.

"No, it's not! I'm paid electronically on the first of every month, and my check is automatically split between my account and yours. So, quit calling me at seven in the morning and busting my balls over something that never happened."

Trying to reframe from laughing, Kim, after a short pause, responded, "Okay, I got it. I was just trying to get your attention."

"Well, you got it! What do you want?"

"Hey, just for the record, I only busted your balls once, and that was an accident--I told you I was sorry."

"Well, that didn't make it hurt any less. Now, Kim, what do you want?"

Kim's voice dropped to a more serious tone. "Are you taking the kids this weekend?"

"Yes, it's my weekend. Is that really your only question?"

"No--no. What are you planning to do with them?"

"For Christ's sake, Kim, I'll lock them in the attic with their video games, and other than feeding them lunch, I'll never hear a peep from them."

Kim knew that wasn't true. The kids may have actually enjoyed that, but Brady was a good dad, and she had no doubt there was more in store for them than being locked in the attic. "Okay, I'm sorry. I was just wondering if you could come in and sit for a minute? There is something I want to discuss with you."

"About the kids?" Brady asked.

"No, not the kids specifically. They're all fine. About us--about all of us. About our family," Kim nervously replied.

Now Brady was really at a loss. A long silence fell before he finally said, "Okay."

Saturday morning, Brady parked in front of the house he and Kim once owned jointly and knocked on the front door. Kim dashed to meet him. "Come in," she said, with an unusual sense of excitement.

"Are the kids up?" Brady asked as he stepped in.

"No, not yet. But come in; I have something I want to discuss with you," Kim bubbled.

Brady was a little suspicious, but after sitting down at the oak breakfast table he'd made with his own hands ten years ago in his shop, he took a cup of coffee from his ex and asked, "Okay, what is it?"

Sitting across from him, Kim said, "Brady, what are you planning for today?"

"I don't know, nothing special. I'll probably wait to see what they want to do."

"Well, I have a suggestion." Brady looked on with apprehension. "The RV show is this weekend at the convention center. Why don't we go and look around?" Kim suggested. "It would be fun."

"We--as in all of us?" Brady questioned.

"Yes, it might be fun, and it might give us some ideas."

"Kim, we aren't buying a damn RV," Brady protested. "And besides, what do you mean--all of us? We're divorced, remember."

"Yes, I remember," Kim said, disappointed that Brady's first reaction was negative. "Brady, we are still a family. You love your kids, they love you, and I think it would be a good thing if we could do a few things together, like a family from time to time."

"We're not buying a damn RV," Brady reiterated.

"No--no, you can rent them. I've been checking it out," Kim tried to explain. "There are companies that do nothing but rent them, like Cruise America, and many times people who own them rent them out when they aren't using them. Like an Airbnb sort of thing."

"And what do we do with it if we did rent one?"

Kim had all of this already sorted out in her head, but sitting in front of Brady, it all just became muddled. "Go on vacation. A vacation for the whole family."

"I'll repeat--we're divorced," Brady replied, still trying to sip his coffee that was burning his lips and tongue. "Don't you have a boyfriend or someone to go on vacation with?"

Reaching across the table, Kim took Brady's hands in hers. "No, I don't have a boyfriend. I work 40 hours a week to make ends meet, and then I get home and work to raise four kids--basically by myself." Her eyes began to tear up as she added, "I don't have the time or the energy for a boyfriend. Besides, the kids want you."

"Okay, well what kind of vacation did you have in mind?" Brady realized Kim was serious, and if it was for the kids' benefit, he was fine with it, too.

With a smile returning to her face, Kim said, "Oh, I don't know. How about the beach? The kids always liked the beach. It's only a five-hour drive to Destin. We could easily do that in a day."

"And where is everyone going to sleep?" Brady asked, just trying to see how much Kim had actually thought this plan through.

"Well, the girls would sleep in the bunk over the cab. The couch and the dinette both convert to beds, so the two boys could fight over who sleeps where," Kim explained with some pride. "And if the boys want to sleep out in a tent, we could get an inexpensive 2-man tent for them. Joey would like that--Jimmy, I'm not so sure."

"And us?" Brady asked.

Kim tightened her grip on Brady's hands. "There's a bedroom in the back. We'd take the bedroom."

"Kim, we're divorced. Do you feel safe sleeping in the same bed with me?"

"I'll wear a nightshirt, and you can keep your pants on," Kim said with a smile. "I know you've had trouble doing that in the past, but maybe you can do it just this once."

A little background would help here. Brady and Kim were married when she was eight months pregnant with another man's baby. Brady never knew who the actual father was, and Kim absolutely refused to tell him. Their marriage agreement required him never to press her for the actual father's name. Kim and Brady had known each other since childhood. They lived in the same neighborhood and attended the same schools, though they never dated or were intimate with one another. However, Brady knew he had to help his long-term friend when she was in trouble. Standing before a local Justice of the Peace, Kim wore a simple ice-blue maternity dress, looking like she had a watermelon in her pants, as they exchanged vows.

Their son was born three weeks after their wedding and was named Joseph, for Brady's maternal grandfather. Though he and Kim knew he wasn't his biological son, the birth certificate listed Brady as the father, and that was that. Joey was his son--officially and legally. Several years later, along came Jimmy, and shortly after, they added Joy to their growing family. Jillian was a bonus baby, born three months before Kim filed for divorce.

The issue was Brady's infidelity. It wasn't just once; it was repeatedly with Debbie, a cocktail waitress at Brady's favorite watering hole. Despite otherwise being a good husband and loving father to his four kids, he was apparently powerless to stop the affair. Kim filed for divorce on the third confirmed offense. "Three strikes, and you're out," Kim screamed after discovering the third incident. They fought bitterly over child support and how to divide their property. But just weeks before Jillian's first birthday, the divorce was final. Ten years of marriage dissolved, and Brady was now a free man, although significantly poorer.

Now sitting in what was formerly their kitchen, Kim searched Brady's face for an answer. Finally, he said, "Okay, what's for breakfast?"

Kim clapped her hands together and said, "How about waffles?"

At first, Brady nodded yes, then, on second thought, countered with, "How about biscuits and gravy?"

Southern biscuits and gravy had always been a favorite of Brady's. Kim was excited that Brady had accepted her offer, but she knew the younger kids might not appreciate his breakfast choice as much. "Jillian doesn't like biscuits and gravy," Kim uttered as she rose to check the pantry for flour and baking powder.

"Well then, pop an Eggo in the toaster for her," Brady said as he stood to go wake the kids.

The kids were all excited that their mom and dad were being civil to each other, and that for the first time in five years, they were all sitting down for breakfast together. The RV convention was actually a great family adventure, as the kids climbed on and through dozens of different models. And Kim and Brady talked to several rental companies before finally putting a deposit down on one for that summer.

Returning home that afternoon, Kim pulled Brady aside and, with a hopeful smile, asked, "Can you spend the night?"

"What about the kids?" Brady inquired.

Kim apparently hadn't thought this all the way through, but quickly suggested, "Jimmy and the girls can go spend the night with your mom. Carol has always said they are welcome anytime. And as for Joey, he can spend the night at Darian's house. I'll call Darian's mom and tell her I have a date tonight; she'll love hearing that."

As Brady drove Jimmy, Joy, and Jillian to his mom's house for the night, Kim quickly dashed to Winn-Dixie to buy a steak, baking potatoes, all the salad fixings she knew Brady liked, as well as a couple of bottles of wine.

Brady grilled the steaks in the backyard as Kim prepared what she knew was Brady's favorite meal: char-grilled steak, baked potato with grated cheese, crispy bacon, and sour cream, and a tossed green salad with cherry tomatoes, avocado, bacon, and something no one in the family liked but Brady, so she was sure to include them--marinated artichoke hearts.

As Brady put the last of the dinner dishes in the dishwasher and pressed start, Kim said, "Okay, that's it for the dishes; now let's get you cleaned up."

Brady understood that sending the kids away for the night and fixing an all-time favorite meal meant that they would likely be having sex tonight. He just wasn't sure how Kim would bring it up. But if she wanted to start with a shower or bath, that certainly sounded like good clean fun.

Taking his hand, Kim led Brady down the hall to what used to be their bedroom. Since the divorce, he had never been further into the house than the kid's rooms, and this was very tantalizing. Once in the bedroom, Kim dropped Brady's hand and said, "I'll start the shower; why don't you make yourself comfortable. Brady knew what that meant, and as he heard Kim start the shower, he stripped himself naked and neatly folded his clothes on a nearby chair.

Kim returned moments later, already down to her underwear, and seeing Brady's rising anticipation of what was to come, she said with a smile, "Has little Brady missed me?"

"Oh my god, yes," Brady exclaimed.

"Well, let's get that bad boy cleaned up then."

Taking Brady by the hand, she led him to the shower and held the curtain back so he could step in. It was a tub/shower combination with an old shower curtain that Brady remembered them buying together at Walmart years ago, the day they closed on the house. Kim removed her bra and panties, placed them neatly on the counter, and stepped into the shower herself.

Brady had already started on his front side. So, Kim grabbed her bath sponge, filled it with body wash, and started on his back. Feeling that he was facing the wrong way, Brady turned around and allowed Kim to scrub him from his neck to his toes, paying particular attention to the area midway between the two. Once Kim felt she had done enough with the sponge, she dropped it to the bottom of the tub and continued manually cleaning the aforementioned area.

This attention to detail produced very predictable results, and soon Brady knew that if she didn't stop, this phase of the evening entertainment was about to cum to a dramatic conclusion. Kim realized this as well, so after a quick rinse, she engulfed his manhood in anticipation of receiving her just rewards.

And receive them she did. The initial blast filled her mouth with his creamy emissions. Then, quickly allowing Brady to slip from her mouth, she continued to stroke him so that his second and third blasts landed in big splats on her neck, chest, and boobs.

Brady leaned back against the wall, trying desperately to remain standing, but his knees were so weak that Kim had to actually help him remain upright. "Kim, you weren't supposed to do that," Brady wheezed.

"Don't worry," she purred. "We have all night, remember."

Brady did remember, but at this pace. Was he still man enough to endure? Once he was able to stand unassisted, he swapped places with Kim in the shower and treated her to the same luxurious scrubbing, sans the blow job, of course, before she turned off the water and drew them both bath towels from the wall rack.

Taking Brady to bed, Kim pulled the covers back and asked, "Would you like a massage?"

Brady eagerly nodded yes, and as he settled on his stomach in the center of the bed, Kim turned to her vanity to grab a bottle of massage oil. With the oil in hand, Kim straddled Brady's bare legs and drizzled a generous measure onto his back. She started at his neck and shoulders, then slowly worked her way down his spine. As she kneaded and pressed on each muscle and joint, Brady emitted several audible oohs and aahs but never complained or dreamed of stopping her.

As Kim reached the small of his back, she slid further down his legs. Unexpectedly, she did not refill her hands with massage oil, but instead, slapped his fully exposed ass cheek--hard.

Not sure if she was still playing or not, Brady considered his options and opted for, "Thank you, Ma'am. May I have another?"

This time she slapped his opposite cheek, even harder than the first. "You were a bad boy. A very, very bad boy," she scolded. Soon she was slapping both cheeks, harder and harder, repeating "Bad boy--bad boy, over and over. As Brady was about to have had enough, he could hear her softly crying.

As the physical pain reached about all Brady could stand, Kim collapsed onto Brady's back, with her face just inches from his ear. Brady felt her tears slide from her face to his neck. Lying face down, he wasn't sure what to do, but he knew he had to do something, so reaching behind himself, he tried to hug her by wrapping his arms around her back. He just had no idea what to say.

Slowly, she slid from his body and lay face down beside him. After several moments of silence, Brady asked, "Would you like a massage?"

Turning her head to Brady, with streaks of tears still on her face, she nodded yes. Brady moved into a sitting position over her legs and filled his hands with massage oil. He started on her neck and shoulders, just as she had done with him. However, as Brady's hands moved lower and lower down her back, she continually raised her ass, higher and higher.

With her head on the pillow, Kim turned her face to meet Brady eye to eye. "I have been a bad girl, Brady. I must be punished." Brady looked at her, unsure what she meant. But when he hesitated, Kim insisted, "Spank me, Brady. I was a bad girl, and I must be punished."

Brady raised his open hand and brought it down sharply on Kim's fully exposed, tender ass. She shrieked with pain, but otherwise didn't flinch or complain. "Again, Brady. Again and again--I was a very bad girl." Brady brought his open palm down onto Kim's ass several more times, but still felt that he was the one who needed punishing, not his ex.

As Kim's rump turned a rosy shade of pink, her mood shifted from one of contrition to one of passion. Sensing that the situation was changing, Brady allowed her to spread her legs, and he repositioned himself between them. Free to raise her derriere to a level Brady could no longer ignore. Though he had not totally lost his erection, the session in the shower had left Brady at a little less than full staff. Still, Kim wasn't to be denied. Reaching between her legs, she took hold of Brady's wiggly wiener and skillfully guided it to her leaking lower lips.

Stoking Brady several times helped, but once his shy pecker had fully immersed itself in Kim's hairy hole, his full stamina quickly returned. Brady started slowly. He was in no hurry, and he wanted his second coming to be a long, sultry stroll in the woods. Kim didn't shave within her panty lines, and Brady always enjoyed her natural bush.

But apparently, Kim was much more motivated, and she quickly proved to be the Energizer Bunny. For every forward stroke of Brady's hips, Kim matched it with a forceful rearward stroke of her own. Brady tried to slow the action, but Kim was determined, for she had not had sex in years, and she was ready for her bell to be rung.

Brady did not realize that Kim was actively diddling herself between her legs, quickly bringing her magic moment to fruition. As her body began to stiffen and shake uncontrollably, her orgasm quickly brought a flood of feminine juices from her loins that soon brought on Brady's second cumming of the evening.

As they lay together in bed, in the afterglow of the best sex either one of them had had--since they couldn't remember when--Kim asked with a serious tone to her voice, "So, I have to ask. How many others have there been?"

This was a mood breaker for sure, but Brady knew that Kim had a right to at least some sort of answer. "I don't know," he finally managed to mumble, as he stared at the ceiling.

At first, there was silence, as Kim gathered her strength to get an answer. "Yes, you do," she maintained. "Men always keep notches on the bedpost." Another moment of silence, before she added, "That is, if you haven't already whittled your bedpost to the ground."

"That's not fair," Brady responded. "We're divorced."

"Ten?" Kim pressed.

Brady finally turned to face her. "Yeah, maybe."

"Twenty?" Kim pressed again.

"I don't know, Kim. No--not twenty."

Trying to change the subject, and recognizing Kim's assertion that she had been 'a very bad girl,' Brady cautiously asked, "And how many have you had?"

Though they were both naked, lying side by side, the shoe was suddenly on the other foot. Kim hesitated, but in the interest of full disclosure, responded, "One."

Now she had Brady's interest. "One? And who was the lucky guy?"

"Javier"

Brady did a double take. "Javier? The lawn guy?

"The landscaper. And yes, Javier."

"Why Javier?"

"Brady, I was mad," Kim responded. "I was pissed that you kept having an affair with that slut, Debbie."

"While we were still married?" Brady inquired.

"Well, the divorce wasn't final, but you had moved out. I was hurting and needed a warm body to comfort me," Kim slowly explained. "Besides, you were still seeing that bitch Debbie, so I felt entitled."

Brady felt a mix of emotions. He was jealous upon discovering that Kim had slept with another man. But he fully knew it was his fault, and he had no one to blame but himself. On the other hand, he couldn't help but be a little curious as to how it went. Sheepishly, he asked, "So, how was he?"

Kim was a little irritated by such a question, but in the interest of true confession, she said, "Sure, it was sex, and what's not good about that?"

Brady was now feeling a little more curious and followed up with, "Did you suck his dick?"

"For God's sake, Brady, we had sex. Yes, I sucked his dick." Kim then countered with, "Did you eat-out that filthy bitch, Debbie?"

Debbie wasn't filthy, but that's not either here or there, so after a moment of reflection, Brady said, "Let's just leave it at--we had sex."

But for some stupid reason, Brady couldn't leave well enough alone. After turning back to stare at the ceiling, he asked, "Was he circumcised?"

Kim pushed back and punched him as hard as she could in the shoulder. She didn't respond verbally, but rolled away from him and, pulling the sheet up over her body, scooted to the far side of the bed. Putting an end to the activities of their first night together in five years.

The next morning, Brady worked to put his comment the night before behind him. He was up first and prepared Kim's favorite breakfast: a bowl of cheesy grits with crumbled sausage and a perfectly fried egg on top. Kim loved this traditional Southern breakfast, and she especially loved her fried egg--crispy around the edges with a runny yolk in the middle. Brady cooked three to make sure he had it perfect.

From that first weekend together in five years until the end of the school year, Brady spent every weekend with his family, and they were all happy that he was home, at least on Saturdays and Sundays. Upon that final day of school, the rented RV arrived in the driveway. As Brady and the boys familiarized themselves with all the intricacies of its operation, Kim and the girls packed everything they thought they would need for a one-week family vacation to the beach.

Of course, the road trip took more than eight hours, not the five hours Google Maps promised. But it was worth it. They received a lovely campsite near the beach on the Gulf Island National Seashore. Brady rented bikes for the whole family, and they explored historic forts, tidal marshes, miles of hike-and-bike trails, and endless miles of the most amazing sugar-white quartz-sand beaches they had ever seen.

The girls absolutely loved the bunk bed over the cab, as it gave them their own private getaway that no one else could enter. The girls also loved the fact that the RV had its own potty. Brady never had to stop to find them a restroom, and they thought that was the greatest invention in the world. The boys tried the small tent the first night. Joey was fine with it and slept out every night. Jimmy preferred the air-conditioned comfort of the RV and slept on the couch after that first night.

One day they were even able to watch the Navy's Blue Angels practicing out over Pensacola Bay, and Brady took the boys out on a deep-sea fishing charter. Jimmy seemed to love it, as he caught a five-pound snapper. Joey didn't enjoy it as much, as he may have gotten a touch seasick. Kim and the girls enjoyed one more day at the beach. Though the quartz-like sand doesn't lend itself to making sandcastles, the mild surf of the emerald-green waters of the Florida Gulf Coast more than made up for it.

On their final night at the beach, Kim asked Brady, "Would you like to take a walk on the beach? Just the two of us."

"Sure," Brady responded as he dried and put away the last of the dinner dishes. "Are the kids okay here alone?"

"Joey, you're in charge," Kim said, pointing to her oldest son.

Looking up from his Game Boy, he said, "Five dollars."

Kim shot him a look that could have killed a weaker man, but Brady calmly reached for his wallet and pulled out a ten-dollar bill. "Here," he said, "make sure the girls brush their teeth."

"What about me?" Jimmy protested.

"Don't worry, Dad, we'll split it," Joey said, glaring at his younger brother.

"Don't lock the door," Kim admonished. "We'll be back in a couple of hours."

Hand in hand, the two adults walked to the beach. A full moon shone brightly overhead as they stepped onto the sugar-white sand and headed out onto the deserted beach. After walking over a mile, Kim stopped and, dropping Brady's hand, began unbuttoning her shirt.

"What are you doing?" Brady asked, though he probably had a pretty good idea.

"I'm going swimming, she casually responded.

"You don't have a bathing suit," Brady replied.

"Neither do you," Kim said with a smile. "That's the whole idea."

"What if someone sees us?"

"We haven't seen another person in over thirty minutes. I'm not too worried."

Leaving their clothes in a pile on the sand, Brady and Kim ran hand in hand for the water, naked as Jay Birds and as happy as clams.

Fifteen minutes later, Brady lay naked on the beach, with his fully erect manhood, deep in Kim's mouth. She deliberately took her time, slowly licking, kissing, and teasing every square inch of Brady's stiff woody. Slowly, Brady pulled Kim around so that he had full access to her feminine delights, before finally pulling her on top of his chest. Though 69 was not a routine feature of their lovemaking, tonight, naked on the beach, under a brilliant full moon, with the wave crashing on the beach only a few yards behind them, it just seemed so natural.

As both lovers approached that magical point of no return, Kim moved toward Brady's feet. She dropped her oral suction of his joystick and pulled her pungent lower lips from his tender cunnilingus. Brady continued to hold her hips as she began to sit upright on his chest, then, reaching between her legs, Kim directed Brady's stiff, woody to her waiting tunnel of love.

Brady could not remember them ever making love with her on top and facing his feet. But at that moment, it seemed like a novel and exciting addition to their sexual repertoire.

Kim had been sunbathing for five days in one of several two-piece bathing suits. It caused the areas of her body normally visible to the general public to develop a perfect copper-toned tan. Yet the areas only available to Brady's eyes remained as white as the sugar-white sand he was lying on. As Brady held her hips, his glistening erection slowly appeared and then disappeared again and again between Kim's snow-white rear cheeks. Brady knew that he was the luckiest man in the world.

As the two lovers reached their magical moments together, Brady held Kim's hips tightly to his lap to ensure that every ounce of his warm man-cream filled her. Once both conjoined souls had taken time to relax and enjoy the moment, Kim slowly slid off Brady's legs and, turning to face him, cuddled up beside his warm naked body. Her arm was thrown over his chest, with one breast on top and the other tucked below him in the sand. With both lovers still gently panting, Kim whispered in his ear, "I love you, Brady. I love you."

A long silence followed as Brady considered his next words. "Fourteen. Including Debbie, it was fourteen."

An even longer silence followed before Kim, clinging tightly to Brady's chest, finally spoke. "Brady, you are now and will forevermore be Joey's dad. But biologically--there was another long pause--you are also his older brother."