Chapter Ten: Unmasked!
At the costume party, in full disguise, James Jones paused for a nonce poised above, unbeknownst to him, his own daughter Mary Jones, also in full disguise. He was poised to enter her and continue fucking her silly, almost ready to mention that there was something familiar about her. Then he shook his head, convincing himself it was not possible, and thrust excitedly back into his daughter, this time towering over her from the front.
Mary squealed and climaxed instantly with a powerful wet shudder, her girl fluids geysering up onto her father's muscular belly as he displaced them from her tightening cunt. She hoped her excitement was only because of her father's perfect penis, which she'd seen in action many times through the keyhole in Margaret's bedroom door during her research, and had always dreamed in an unformed way of having a ramrod very much like it plow her own hole. She feared it was because of the illicit nature of the coupling combined with the fact that if either her father or Margaret ever learned of this, they would be mentally scarred. They must never know, Mary concluded, wailing out another orgasmic howl as her father filled her ecstatically well.
As her father James continued to powerfully and rhythmically fill his daughter Mary's tight quim that was already thick with the semen of a dozen men, it came to one of those moments in their fuck session when a man's heart is filled to the brim with warmth for the girl he's mating, and he yearns to confide his most secret thoughts to her, right in the thick of it. This is why James spoke up and said, "Hey, slut girl, it's just the strangest thing. When you were begging me to fuck you earlier, you sounded just like my daughter. Well, all teenage girls sound alike, I guess."
Answering loudly for the whole crowd of onlookers to hear in a voice with a bit higher register than her natural voice, Mary replied, "Do you want me to play like I'm your slutty daughter sir? I'd be happy to!" Then she channeled her deep authentic inner lusts and began shrieking, "Fuck me daddy! Oh split your innocent little girl's tiny gash with your huge daddy dick!"
Mary's thoughts helplessly fixated on the memory of her first crisis ever, which had been while touching herself and watching her father through Margaret's keyhole while marveling that her father's penis could ever fit into any woman. She recalled that as she stood there spasming in her first kiss of ultimate feminine delight, she was considering how her father's powerful member would especially never fit her own tight little virgin hole, or could it? This caused her to shriek to her father who was now finally and magically now thrilling her with his majestic member, "It's fitting! It's fitting in me so good daddy!!" and howl with the most intense orgasm of her young life, her girl cum hissing out wetly and splashing her father's muscular tummy as she came and came.
"My, you are a hot little bitch," her father James remarked to Mary, and then picked her up and spanked her hard on her rump as he continued to blast his impressive dick powerfully into her tiny quivering quim. "You've been such a bad little daughter!" James playacted, or so he thought. There was nothing in this world that excited his mildly masochistic daughter more than a little slap of pain with her stimulation, and she immediately shrieked and climaxed for her father again as he spanked her and then again as he spanked her hard again. Her father seemed to know every little thing that excited her best, as if he had some uncanny instinct.
And then she thought of her mother, and how likely it was that, although she was sure her father didn't suspect, her father instinctively knew her responses so well because he was so intimately and at length familiar with her mother's sexual hot buttons and had practiced on them for many years. At this realization, she shook and howled like a demon possessed.
Before she could even recover, Mary felt the hot pressure of her father James's incestuous jism filling her painfully stretched and utterly subdued twat, causing her to immediately shriek again in orgasm at the unadulterated vile nastiness of it. There was an uproar of applause from the assembled guests in the ballroom, all of whom had been riveted by her father's virtuoso performance atop her and her every screech of howling satisfaction at it.
James unknowingly lifted his daughter Mary into his arms, and with Margaret's assistance at the door, carried his anonymized daughter into the anteroom that she and Dorff had used earlier for their assignation. Margaret closed and locked the door behind them. "Why are you crying, sweetie?" The dusky young beauty asked James suddenly.
"It's uncanny," said James, moved and brushing away tears, "this young one suddenly reminds me so much of my late wife."
"Ya datta, ya wife, make up ya mind," Mary said, adding a bit of Chicago twang to her vocal disguise to disguise it further.
"I'm aching," confessed Margaret. James pulled out of Mary, spattering more than his own cumload out of his well-used teen daughter and all over the rug. Margaret immediately took James's place and began lovingly cleaning the mingled ejaculate of fourteen men out of Mary's quivering vulva and vaginal entrance with her long pink tongue that starkly contrasted her chocolate complexion. James, already hard again from seeing Margaret's hot lesbian intensity with their unknown young lover, rammed his magnificent cock, still wet with his daughter's juices, deep into Margaret's wet and yearning twat.
The intensity of Margaret's cunnilingus on Mary went into high gear as James began vigorous intercourse with his lovely dark-skinned maid and lover. Mary quickly came wetly with a shriek on her chocolate friend's delightful tongue. Her friend was clearly highly skilled at the Sapphic arts, and Mary relaxed and let her whimpering climaxes from Margaret's attentions roll through her. She noticed at once the staccato jerks of Margaret's face on her vulva as her father joyously pounded the hell out of his dark beauty from behind.
By the time her father roared triumphantly and flooded his lovely black woman's cunny with as much spunk as his now tired balls could muster, Mary was a puddle of gurgling post-orgasmic satisfaction on the settee. She mused whether any man, even the just now highly charged fucking from her father, could measure up to the glorious tongue lashing and expert finger banging in both cunny and anus that Margaret had just given her. The lusty girl detective lay curled up on the settee and deduced, yes, I'm definitely bisexual and not just bi-curious.
Margaret, after nodding to James, was the first to speak. "Dear girl, we're delighted by you. Will you keep seeing us? Would you maybe move into our big empty house with us and bring a lot of joy into our lives? We'd love to have you."
"I'm sorry," said Mary, "I can't. My life is complicated right now."
"Will you at least keep seeing us?" begged James. "Would you at least tell us your name?"
"I don't know, I'm not sure whether I should."
"Do you not feel the same way we're feeling? That this was the best sex in our lives?"
"Yes, absolutely, but..."
"Are you married?"
"Look, I'll go first," soothed Margaret. She pulled off her mask, showing her face. "I'm Margaret Roberts. I live—"
Mary had no choice. "Margaret!" she shrieked, tearing off her own mask.
James Jones collapsed in a heap on the floor in a dead faint.
Cheek patting and shouting were not working, so Mary and Margaret put their masks back on and left the room together to look for smelling salts or the equivalent. "That was some nasty-ass stuff we all just accidentally did together, honey," Margaret said to Mary. "Are you going to be okay?"
"Margaret, I have a confession," said Mary, turning bright pink.
"What is it, child?" Margaret called her "child" even though she was only four years Mary's senior. She supposed that Margaret, as best she could, as James's mate, was trying to fulfill the role of mother to his only daughter, at least in this very difficult emotional time.
"I'm in deep lesbian love with you," blurted Mary.
"Honey," Margaret said quickly, "The feeling is mutual. We can work out your dad sharing me with you."
"There's more," said Mary, turning a brighter shade of pink.
"What now?" asked Margaret. "What more?"
"I loved all of all of that," Mary blurted. "Every instant."
"Even with your father??" Margaret asked, incredulous.
"Exactly," Mary squaked, now beet red.
Margaret looked at Mary askance and said, "You are a strange child."
They spoke no more of it, but they did kiss and grab at each other a lot as they were searching the various bathrooms for smelling salts. They came across a bathroom with a large porcelain tub. Mary dragged Margaret into the tub on a whim, and, as her chocolate friend had also gone commando, she was able to apply her mouth directly to Margaret's creamy vulva and give her three satisfying climaxes while having way too much of a thrill licking her own father's remaining slippery offering out of her young surrogate mother's quivering vagina.
Resting in the satisfaction of their mutual orgasms, since they had sixty-nined it, Mary said, "I thought you two were in Chicago? Why are you all the way back here?"
Margaret answered, "We rushed back here when we found out that Xenia had doubled back and was back in River Heights. We're here because we think she's at this party. We came to the party because we hoped to find her here. Your father had received an invitation here, of course, important as he is, but we tend to stay away from these affairs. We generally swing in."
"You were hoping to find her," Mary chuckled, "You and my father, who didn't even recognize their own best friend and daughter respectively while she was howling in climax on their tongue and penis respectively?"
"That's us, yes," Margaret sadly acknowledged.
"I'll find her," said Mary, "What does she look like?"
"Let your dad give the description," Margaret said. "He's got a photograph."
When the two dear friends returned arm-in-arm with the smelling salts, they found, much to their dismay, that James had vanished from where he had lain crumpled on the floor.
(To be continued)