Eat, Sleep, Masturbate Ch. 02

Bdsm

_This is a work of fiction. This is the 2nd Chapter of what I’ve mapped in my mind as a multi-part story. I think it stands on its own, but reading the first “Eat, Sleep, Masturbate” will provide some context. I write for my own enjoyment, but I am grateful you’ve stopped by and perhaps chosen to spend some time with my writing._

_And the usual disclaimer: All characters are 19 years of age or older. And no animals were harmed in the creation of this story._

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“Fuck, it’s hot,” I hissed, kicking the sheet off in exasperation. The night was close. The humidity laid over everything like a thick wet blanket. The ceiling fan blades strove to cut through but the pushed air didn’t cool; it simply moved. I laid on my back staring at the fan, the motor’s hum answered sporadically by insect chirps and the hoot of a distant owl. Infrequently an impotent breeze listlessly rustled the palm fronds. I felt the stickiness on my brow, my neck, my chest, the arch of my back. My cock felt thick and needy. The erection that accompanied me to bed only seemed to fortify. I could feel it, heavy, hovering, pulsing involuntarily. I tried to ignore it, thinking it’d fade in time; after all I had already cum twice that day. I ultimately admitted to myself the source of my insistent rigidity: I couldn’t wait to see my sister naked and I was exhilarated by the prospect of the masturbation opportunities.

That was it: I needed to cum again, but my imagination wouldn’t suffice. Thirsting for more inspiration, I padded to the family room, my boorish tumescence bouncing and bobbing heavily as I walked. I flicked on the television; in luck, I found episodes of Real Sex on cable. I stretched out on the couch, cradling my head in the bend of my left arm while I languorously caressed my torrid erection, trying to find that stasis of staying on the verge of coming, holding it off until just the right scene appeared on screen to unleash.

I was lost in a segment about making cock and pussy molds to create dildos and penis sleeves when I heard my dad come into the kitchen. I tilted my head up to look at him.

“Hey,” I said flatly.

“What are you doing up?” My dad asked, opening the fridge.

“Couldn’t sleep.”

“It’s still tonight,” he commented.

“It is.” I paused. It was clear what I was doing, so I might as well put it out there. “Plus I really needed to masturbate,” I added turning my attention back to the TV just as cock mold model said to his female counterpart, “Let’s get that clit poppin’!”

My cock shuddered under my touch as the female model sat in a gynecologist’s chair and parted her legs, giving the camera the briefest view of her splayed shaved cunt. A dollop of precum spilled onto my waistline. Having poured himself a glass of chilled wine, he sat on the sofa opposite. Setting the wine glass on the table, he lit a cigarette, his knees parted wide, his genitals hanging loose between over the cushion edge.

“May I join you?” He asked through his pursed lips that held his cigarette as he reclined on the sofa.

I apparently I missed the question because he followed up with an emphasized, “Alex?”

“Huh?” I looked over at him on the opposite sofa. “Oh…yeah, go right ahead.”

“What’s this?”

“Show called Real Sex.” I answered curtly, my gaze not leaving the sexualized bodies on the screen.

“Everything OK?”

“Huh? Yeah, sorry…I’m just really horny tonight.” I caught myself. “Sorry … I know you hate that term.”

“Lusty…libidinous…concupiscent…,” he offered.

“Concu-wha’?”

“‘Horny’ will do,” he warmly acquiesced with humor in his voice. “What’s gotten you so worked up?”

“Candidly,” I began to confess as I looked to him, my fingers still gliding delicately along my cock, slicked in my own precum, “it’s the thought of having Diana here.”

“Oh?”

“Oh yeah!” I looked over at him. I pointed my hard cock to the ceiling as my fingers glided along the underside. “Having a naked woman here at the house? Are you kidding me, Dad?!”

He took a drag on his cigarette. “Now, be mindful, Alex,” he lightly admonished me, pointing the fingers grasping the cigarette at me as he cupped his balls in his right. “Treat her with warmth and dignity. She’s not fantasy fodder for you. Don’t be lecherous.”

I could feel my erection wane. “Meaning what?” I shot back with some hormone-fueled snark.

“Meaning, I don’t want to see you following her around the house masturbating at her like a lustful puppy,” he retorted.

I chuckled at the metaphor, but I was still wounded by his warning. “But at breakfast, you said—” He cut me off.

“At breakfast I said she grew up like you, free to explore and grow comfortable in and with her sexuality. I don’t believe she’ll be dismayed by your being erect, or even you masturbating, but I’m expecting you to make her feel comfortable and at home here, not like she’s here to fulfill your sexual desires. Please be respectful of her as a person and don’t objectify her. She’s still your sister.”

“Ah,” balıkesir escort I yielded. I let go of my penis as I laid back down on the couch, my lust high punctured.

My dad waited a pause before adding, “Now, it’s quite possible that she’ll invite you to, but that’ll be an agreement between you two.”

My head snapped to the side to look at him, “I’m sorry—what?”

Taking another draw, my dad continued, “As I said, she spent a lot of time with her hand on her vulva, and her mother and I made it comfortable for her masturbate around the house, just as I have with you. Masturbation can be intensely personal and private, but there can be something very affirming doing it with someone else. I think you’ll concur.”

My cock began to re-electrify as I pondered what he was saying. I looked at him. He returned his gaze to the television; in the set’s glow and the dim light coming from the patio, I could see him bring his cigarette to his lips with left hand. He continued to caress and massage relaxed scrotum and flaccid penis with his right.

I leaned in and asked, “Dad…did you and Diana masturbate together?” My fingers returned to my cock.

He tilted his head toward me, “Infrequently, but yes. She masturbated with her mother more. But, yes.”

Adrenaline lightninged through me. My cock bloated painfully hard. “Well, this is news! How did that came about?”

“I’m surprised you find this revelatory. You’re quite comfortable masturbating with me here. It was no different with her.”

“OK, I see your point. I guess I just thought it’d be different with a girl.”

“And that’s just the kind of thinking her mother and I strove to dispel,” he emphasized by pointing his cigarette-pinching fingers at me. “We raised her to be confident in her identity and her body and with her sexuality, but the mores of the time weren’t quite there yet. It was a different era. She didn’t seriously date until her senior year in college, and she proclaimed her virginity while she was living at home. So while she continued to learn about her sexuality, she didn’t know much about men’s. Remember, these were before the days of sexual education at school, and resources were limited. But your sister’s as smart as a whip and inquisitive. She sought information.”

“Uh huh.” I hung on his words. “Go on.”

“I thought you might find this story interesting. So one morning, Diana—she had to be about your age—came in our bedroom and asked, ‘Can I ask you a sexuality question: what does an ejaculation feel like?'”

“She had not see one? She had never seen you ejaculate?”

“No. I didn’t masturbate much as Betty’s and my sex life was robust. And while her mother and I didn’t keep our sexuality hidden, we didn’t flaunt it either. She would see us having sex though our open door, but she recognized that that was our time to connect as a couple, so she wouldn’t disturb us. But now she was clearly curious about a man’s sexual response. So,” he continued with some animation. I could see the orange glow of the cigarette tip circle about him like a firefly as he moved his hand. He continued caressing his cock and balls. “I explained that a preferred ejaculation and orgasm occurs when a man is very aroused and his penis is sturdily erect and it’s been caressed purposely for some time. I explained I preferred ejaculating in her mother’s vagina.”

“Huh!” I pondered. I was curious. “What made that so special?”

“Interesting, that was almost verbatim what she asked. It’s the feeling of connection with a woman you love. That feeling of her body welcoming and embracing you within her. The heat, the wetness, the totality of the unity, two bodies—two beings—becoming one. That feeling of her hot, silken vagina sliding around me, and feeling her swollen labia pressed against my scrotum…” Dad got wistful. “Just spellbinding. And for me the orgasms were encompassing, enveloping, body shattering and time stopping. They were without compare.”

“Wow, Dad, that’s sounds pretty amazing. So better than…,” I stumbled seeking the term, “fellatio, or being caressed by hand?”

“For me, yes. Intercourse was just that—a complete and active communication between the two of us. I did enjoy when Betty fellated me—she found it empowering and it required me to surrender, but it was the active physical expression of our feelings for each in intercourse that I enjoyed.”

I was almost shivering I was so aroused. I could barely touch my cock for fear of triggering my orgasm. Talking with my dad frankly about hand jobs, blowjobs and fucking, and the visceral thoughts and mental image of my dad’s cock deep in Betty’s vagina—and pondering him fucking my own mom—was euphorically arousing to me. “So what did Diana say?”

“She became more intrigued. She was steadfastly curious to find out was a man’s orgasm and ejaculation felt and looked like.” He took a drag on his cigarette.

“What did you tell her?”

“I told her that in men orgasm and ejaculation are separate events, with orgasm usually occurring before ejaculation. balikesirmetroturizm.com I explained that, for me, an orgasm feels like a rapid fluttering deep inside, like a balloon filled with sparks that suddenly explodes.”

“That’s a great way of putting it. That’s what it feels like for me.”

“Mm,” he hummed in acknowledgement as he took another draw on his cigarette. Exhaling he continued, “and ejaculation feels like a rapid swelling, a building of pressure within a man’s groin that’s relieved when the semen’s expelled.”

“That sounds about right. But wait—you said she wanted to know what it *looked* like. How’d you show her?”

“I had become very erect during our conversation. Sexual response is sympathetic. That’s why you get aroused by seeing sexual situations on TV, for example. So talking with her had gotten me quite aroused.”

“Was that off putting at all?”

“Mm, no,” he confirmed, taking a draw on his cigarette. “A natural human sexual response.” He expelled the smoke from his lungs with his remaining breath. “If I allowed myself to feel off-put by becoming erect around my daughter, then likewise I’d have to feel off-put if I began to salivate if she were eating something delicious-smelling at the kitchen table. Nature crafted our bodies over millions of years to perform the way they do. It’s folly to deny its design. For example,” he took a quick drag and pointed at me with his cigarette, “what are your feelings about our arrangement here—being able to be nude and masturbate at your convenience?”

“I admit: I really like it,” I confirmed as my hand slowly, delicately stroked my cock. “It feels comfortable. Natural. Free of shame, I guess. I see what you mean about honoring your body’s design.”

“And that’s the ideal.”

“So,” I reoriented the conversation. “Diana…”

“Right…Diana. Being erect I could show her the structure of an erect penis and the overall structure of a man’s genitals during arousal. I showed her how the shaft becomes hard but the urethra will be pliant and the glans will have a spongy quality.”

Though flaccid, my dad adjusted his penis, mimicking the motions he did that morning with my sister, touching the side of his penis, pushing his urethra along the underside, grasping his glans between his fingertips. “I also have a vein that runs along the right side of the shaft,” he noted, running the pad of his right index finger along the vessel. “That would become firm but supple to the touch when erect.”

“Ha!” I guffawed excitedly. “I’ve got a vein on the left side of my shaft!” I pressed into mine with the pad of my index finger. The pressure at the base of my cock was sublime. I could cum at any moment.

My dad looked over and smiled affectionately. “Now, I think you’ll find this interesting: As I was fully erect and explaining the textures, she asked if she could feel it for herself.”

“Wow!” Adrenaline shot through me like ice shards. My jaw went slack and I’m certain my eyes saucered. I had to release my cock, which quivered urgently. “Kinda forward. What did you do?”

“I let her. I was breaking cultural norms, to be sure, but I wanted her to feel comfortable and confident and knowledgeable with a future partner, so as an educational opportunity, I let her.”

“How did that work out?”

“I held my erection still, and she began lightly touching the side of it, running her fingertip along the shaft.”

“What’d she think of it?” My own quivered. My turgid cock hovering and throbbing above my pubes and abdomen. I could feel my balls tightening. My stare was fixed on my dad.

“She remarked how smooth and soft the skin felt. She was running her fingertip along the length of my shaft. Then, with her thumb and forefinger, she gently pinched my glans.” My actions mirrored his words: I ran my fingertips along my shaft and caressed my glans. “She said, ‘You’re right—it feels kinda squishy,’ which she thought was entertaining, and she continued to press it.”

“So what was going through your mind?”

“Frankly I was battling my desires. I wanted this to be strictly an opportunity to learn about men’s sexual response without overly sexualizing it, if that makes sense. And I certainly didn’t want to sexualize her. But like I said, it’s folly to deny our design, so as her fingertip touched my erection, my penis did swell thicker. Your sister’s touch was far different from her mother’s. Her touch was delicate, soft, tentative, full of wonder. But your sister’s perceptive: She said, ‘Daddy, your glans got thicker!’ And I explained that a sudden infusion of blood will make the glans swell. It enlarges the sensitive ridge—the corona—which I pointed out to her. She ran her fingertip along my ridge, which made my penis quiver. She quickly pulled her finger away, unsure of what was occurring. I explained that that was natural: that the corona is abundant with nerve endings, similar to her clitoris, so it can my hyper-stimulating to caress the ridge directly.”

“That’s true,” I contributed. “I’ve tried masturbating by just caressing my ridge and it’s almost too intense.”

My dad returned to the story, “Diana returned her fingertip to the side of my shaft, and then asked if she could hold my erection.”

“Whoa. Kinda pushing boundaries, no?”

“She was definitely pushing boundaries, but I obliged. She commented that my erection felt heavy, firm, quite warm, and I noted that that’s how a good erect penis should feel. I emitted some Cowper’s fluid, which she asked about. I explained that it’s partly to prepare the urethra for ejaculation, but it’s also a natural lubricant. It helps to make penetration easier and more comfortable. Curious, she scooped some up on her fingertip so that she could get a sense of its viscosity. She said, ‘Yeah, it’s slippery.’ And with that—and this took me aback—she placed her coated finger on her clitoris.”

“Wow!” I exclaimed.

“Yes, I wasn’t expecting that, but in retrospect, this seemed a natural extension of her exploration, even if that was with me. I made no mention; I didn’t want her to feel confused or embarrassed or shame. So she slid her fingertip along the side of her clitoris, in that channel between her outer and inner lips, saying that it felt silky. She said that she liked that she could press and stroke without causing uncomfortable friction.”

“Did you find that arousing at all?”

“Absolutely. Her taking part of my body and applying it to her own was very arousing, and it served as a good transition to the next phase, as she wanted to see an orgasm and ejaculation. Now, here’s the interesting thing about that,” he commented, sitting up, splaying his legs again, his elongated but flaccid penis and relaxed scrotum hanging. I stared at his sex. He coolly took a draw on his cigarette, a deep one which he used to light a second, and took a sip of wine. “As I resumed masturbating, she asked, ‘Can a woman feel when a penis ejaculates inside?’ I said, ‘I think so, but I think it depends couple to couple.’ She followed with, ‘Can mom feel when you ejaculate inside her?’ I said, ‘I believe so, but that’s a good question for you to ask her sometime.’ Then she asked, ‘May I feel what you feel like when you ejaculate?’ Now,” my dad chuckled at this recollection, “I admit, I was apprehensive.”

“I’m sure! What’d you do?”

“I asked her to be more specific, and she asked, ‘Would it be OK if I just held your penis when you ejaculate so that I can see what it feels like?,’ which,” my dad punctuated with a shrug and a sip of wine, “seemed reasonable. I told her that’d be fine.” My own hand was gliding along my shaft which was doused in my own precum. He continued, “I could feel my orgasm building, so I told her, ‘As a man’s orgasm approaches, many men’s testes will draw into his body. His erection may also swell thicker, and the color may change, becoming darker. Those are good signs that his orgasm is imminent.’ Your sister leaned over to watch for changes in my scrotum.” He paused to take a draw on his cigarette.

“You didn’t tell her about men thrusting their hips as their orgasms approach?” I queried.

“No, that didn’t seem necessarily at that time. I feared any thrusting motion would send a confusing message. I could show her that if we got into a later discussion, if necessary. I wanted this to be strictly an opportunity to learn about men’s orgasm and ejaculation. So looking at my scrotum she remarked that she could see it tightening, I told her that I was about to ejaculate. She said, ‘Yes, I see the tip of your penis turning a dark red.’ So I let go of my penis and told, ‘OK, why don’t you go ahead and take hold of it.”

“How’d she do it?”

Showing with his hand, “She took it palm up, so that the top side of my penis was cradled in her palm and her fingers encircled around the underside.”

“How did that feel?”

“Her hand felt very nice, and I will confess, it was a struggle to keep my hips still, but I did contract my muscles to help ensure that my orgasm was triggered.”

“Do you think Diana could feel that?”

“Oh she mentioned it. She said, ‘Daddy I can feel you getting thicker and pulsing!’ I think I let my desire get the better of me as I recall my reply was more of a grunt, but then I erupted in a pretty strong orgasm and powerful ejaculation.”

My mouth went dry. “What was Di’s reaction?”

“As my penis convulsed in her grasp, her eyes lit up in wonder. I believe she said something to the effect, ‘Oh my! The pulses are so strong!’ Now here’s where things took yet another turn: on my fourth or fifth contraction, Diana said, ‘I’m sorry—I’m orgasming.’ And she gripped my penis quite zealously as she orgasmed. Hers too looked quite strong.”

That was it. A Real Sex segment on a masturbation club ran on the TV. “Excuse me a second—I’m orgasming too!” I took one last long stare at my dad’s slack penis and hanging testes-contoured scrotum before closing my eyes. My hand glided arrhythmically along my shaft as I cupped and massaged my balls. My ass cheeks clenched, lifting me off the sofa, pushing rampant cock through my grasp. I shook as my orgasm wracked me. Blood hammered my brain. My cock spewed my cum across my torso, hitting my cheek. The second and third splashed on my chest. The rest poured over my hand and settled in my public hair at the base of my shaft.

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