Gentle Persuasion Page 11

  “How’s Mummy?” she asked as her father drove with skill and speed along the familiar country lanes.

  “Fine, darling, just a little preoccupied by the village fete,” he said.

  “Oh, when’s that?” Emma asked.

  “Tomorrow. It will take up most of the day, I’m afraid. We’ll both have to attend, your mother’s offered to help the Vicar with the tea tent and I’ll have to patch up all the sprains, cuts and bruises the village children inflict on each other. You won’t mind too much, I hope?”

  “A little,” Emma said with a mock pout, enjoying seeing her father smile as he glanced across at her.

  “Did I mention James would be putting in an appearance? He’s looking after Sophie this weekend and he said he’d bring her down.”

  “You didn’t, but that’s nice,” Emma said, and spent a moment looking out of the window, lost in thought.

  The younger of her two brothers, James was six years older than Emma. Determined to fly since he was a boy, James had been single?minded in pursuing his dream and attended a boarding school with close links to the services. He was sponsored by the RAF through university and went into active combat flying as soon as he graduated.

  The only problem for Emma was James’s single-mindedness meant he was hardly ever home and she really did not know the tall, elegant and attractive man she saw briefly at Christmas and family birthdays. Usually he was unable to attend even those, and she wondered whether he was happy, how he was coping after his divorce. She wasn’t really surprised the marriage had foundered: it was a big commitment for a couple in their early twenties. Fortunately the break-up had been amicable and Sophie James’s daughter Sophie spent a lot of time with her father when he was in the UK.

  “He told me he’s looking forward to seeing you,” her father said, and Emma realized he instinctively knew what was going through her head.

  “Mmm, yes, it will be nice,” she said, and gently ground her bottom into the seat so that the buttplug pressed into her bowels, taking her mind away from unhappy thoughts and onto the far more pleasurable anticipation of the erotic delights to come.

  Later, after dinner, enjoying a glass of wine with her parents in the garden, Emma smiled when her mother suddenly yawned and stood up.

  “Don’t stay up too late, darling,” her mother said, walking across and leaning down to kiss her daughter on the cheek.

  “God, no. I’ll look hideous in the morning if I do,” Emma said, smiling at her mother who moved across to kiss her husband goodnight.

  “And, Alex, don’t get Emma started on the funding problems of the state medical system,” her mother said. “Or you’ll be up until three in the morning, like last time.”

  “I promise,” Emma’s father said, stroking his wife’s curvy behind in a loving gesture.

  “And speaking of promises...?” Joan Boswell said, smiling apologetically but hopefully at her daughter.

  “Yes, Mum, I promise,” Emma pretended to sigh. “You won’t have to face the ordeal of the tea tent alone.”

  “Thank you, darling. That’s worth my making an especially rich fruit cake for you to take home.”

  “Mum, you know the way to this girl’s heart,” Emma said with a laugh.

  “By the way, I love your outfit.”

  “American collegiate,” said Emma. “Looks inexpensive but costs a fortune...”

  “Chic without being too jeune fille,” said her mother. “Perfect for tomorrow...”

  Emma said, “Yes, Mummy...” and smiled.

  Joan Boswell laughed happily and walked into the house.

  Emma watched the lights to go off in the kitchen and then for the light in her parent’s bedroom to come on and the curtains to close. Sitting opposite, rocking gently back and forth in a swing?seat, her father sat quietly, drinking a brandy.

  Then he said, “Tom away for long?”

  “Just a few days. He’s gone on a business trip to several Middle Eastern states. I expect he’ll spend most evenings in the hotel room of his blonde, buxom intern, fucking and buggering her silly. She’s very partial to sodomy.”

  “You don’t mind?”

  “Not really. Ours is a relationship based on trust. Which means we both have sex with other people but make it clear there’s no emotional involvement.”

  “Very post-modern,” her father said with an ironic smile.

  “I suppose,” Emma said, pleased her father was not being critical.

  The light in her mother’s bedroom clicked off and Emma stood up. Her father’s eyes met hers as she walked across to him and knelt between his legs, her fingers reaching for the belt of his trousers.

  “Excuse me, Dr Boswell,” she said in a low voice. “But you wouldn’t happen to know if anyone has been calling me late at night from the telephone number registered to this address? A very sexy?sounding man who was saying some incredibly rude things to me and very obviously caressing his long, thick, hard cock at the same time? A cock, in fact, very similar to this one, if I’m not mistaken?”

  Emma’s lips opened as she slid the throbbing head of her father’s cock into her mouth, savoring first the come?slick glans and then the warm, sweet flesh as she took more and more of the shaft into the depths of her throat, her asshole flexing in anticipation round the buttplug as she heard him sigh softly with pleasure.

  Bobbing her head up and down, one minute sliding the oval of her lips up so she could lick her tongue over her father’s swollen glans, the next clenching them tight round the base of his prick and sucking hard, Emma reached round behind her and took hold of the hem of her dress, flicking it up to reveal the pert cheeks of her bottom bisected by the glass cock. She grasped it with her fingers and pulled, her anus reluctant to release its treasure.

  Her cunt dripped as she looked up to see her father take it from her and, slowly, lovingly, suck it into his mouth. Then it was her mouth that was flooded, with salty semen pumped out in great, hot jets, a huge load which Emma delighted in swallowing, thrilled that she had made her father come so quickly.

  She was home, and the almost unbearable wait to feel his prick in every hole of her body and taste his spunk was nearly over.

  Saturday Morning

  There was nothing quite like a vigorous session of incestuous anal sex to give a girl an appetite thought Emma as she stood in the shower and gently cleansed her tender asshole. She had spent much of the previous day with a large, specially designed and made butt plug inserted in her bottom, which she only removed when she offered it to her father to suck. Watching him hungrily licking clean something that had been deep in her bowels made Emma so intensely aroused she needed to be sodomized repeatedly for most of the night, taking four loads of her father’s come into her rectum. Only her boyfriend Tom could match her father’s stamina when it came to buggering Emma.

  She dried her hair and dressed in a cut-off t-shirt with a low neckline that left her midriff bare and a pleated hipster skirt. Braless, Emma knew the slightest stirring of desire would make her nipples erect. She wanted to be completely accessible in case her father found an opportunity to cup the cheeks of her ass in his strong hands or slide his fingers into the moist tunnel of her pussy. Something about being in the country, coupled with experiencing the passionate pleasure of incest, made Emma extremely horny.

  The smell of fresh coffee and frying bacon wafted up the stairs. Emma realised she was ravenously hungry and quickly finished applying her lip- gloss. A minute later she entered the kitchen expecting to find her mother at the stove and her father happily reading the morning paper. What took her by surprise was the presence of someone else in the kitchen: a tall, good-looking and well-built man wearing a white collar round his neck leaning against the drainer with a cup in his hand.

  “Hello darling,” her father said. “This the vicar, the Reverend Alan Grey.”

  “Delighted to meet you, Miss Boswell,” the vicar said, his blue eyes meeting Emma’s. He reached a hand out which Emma shook, guessing him to
be in his mid-twenties and, seeing there was no ring on the long slender fingers of either hand, unmarried.

  “Call me Emma, please,” she said, noticing that the vicar’s grip was firm and strong, his fingers clasping hers for a second or two longer than she expected.

  “Help yourself to coffee, darling,” her mother said and Emma picked up a cup from the table, moving across to give her mother a good morning kiss before filling the cup from the pot.

  The action gave Emma a moment to glance at her mother’s face to see if there was any hint of resentment or accusation. After all, Joan Boswell’s little girl had spent most of the night writhing in ecstasy face-down on her bed being thoroughly buggered by her own father. Emma had no idea how her mother might react to finding out that to her husband had been unfaithful to her with his own daughter.

  But, to her surprise, there was no hint of those emotions but something unexpected: a look of undeniable desire when her mother looked across at the vicar. It was as if she was signaling to her daughter, ‘Hands off, Emma, he’s mine,’ and Emma found it hard to hide her astonishment.

  Taking a seat and sipping coffee, Emma listened as her mother and the vicar discussed the arrangements for the fete. She studied her mother’s body language as she talked and listened, noticing the way Joan Boswell’s large, heavy breasts rose and fell under the tight sweater she was wearing, the way her mother squirmed in her seat occasionally. Emma knew that movement so well. Her mother was aroused, pussylips pleasurably sensitive and wet, clit aching to be touched. Emma had to keep the cup in front of her mouth to hide her smile of delight as her eyes met her father’s and he winked at her. Emma realized he was well aware the effect the handsome cleric had on his wife.

  At last the vicar had arranged everything to his satisfaction and he stood up. “Thank you so much for volunteering to help with the tea tent, Emma,” he said. “The sale of teas and cakes makes such a lot of money for the church repair fund.”

  “It’s a pleasure,” Emma said with a smile. “I’m nothing if not a dutiful daughter.”

  She saw her mother heave a little sigh of relief and wondered whether it was only because she had volunteered to help out.

  “Alex,” the vicar said, by way of goodbye to Emma’s father.

  “Don’t worry, Alan, I’m sure everything will be fine,” Alex Boswell said. “And I’ll make sure the Air Ambulance is on stand-by, just in case.”

  The vicar’s face clouded with worry.

  “The Air-?“ he started to say and Emma’s father grinned broadly.

  “I’m joking!” he said quickly. “I’m sure there’ll be nothing more than a few scratched knees and the odd sprain. God knows I’ve dealt with more than a few of those in my time...”

  Emma tried not to smile: she knew her father was being deliberately mischievous to provoke his wife as revenge for her poorly concealed passion.

  As soon as the vicar left, Emma’s father went to shave and dress while her mother tidied the kitchen. Emma sensed her mother wanted to be left alone and she walked through to her father’s study, browsed for a while and selected several interesting looking books. Then she put on her sunhat and went out into the garden to sit on the swing-seat where, the night before, she had knelt in front of her father and hungrily sucked his long, thick hard cock into her throat until he came. This time she intended only to read for a couple of hours until it was time to make her way to the big field at the end of the village where the fete was held every year.

  The warmth of the summer sun on the slopes of her breasts and her bare midriff made Emma sleepy and she shut her eyes, opening them when her mobile phone rang in her handbag.

  “Hello Tom,” she said, recognising the caller’s number.

  “Hello, sweetheart,” the very familiar voice of her boyfriend said. “Are you missing me, down there in the wilds of rural Sussex?”

  “God, no,” Emma said with mock indifference. “And, anyway, how come you’ve got time to call me when there’s the enticing asshole of your buxom blonde intern to fuck at every available opportunity...?”

  “Well...” Tom said, and laughed.

  “Don’t tell me. She needed a rest,” Emma said, very amused because she knew she was right. Her boyfriend could be as relentless when it came to satisfying his sexual desires and there was a limit to the amount of friction tender anal tissues could take.

  “I’ve said she can have an hour until dinner, but afterward I want to try the position where she lies with her legs arched right back over her head, me squatting over upturned ass with my cock thrusting down. I told her you could do that no problem so she’s determined to give it a try...”

  Emma shivered with desire at the thought. She glanced round to make sure no-one was about and then bunched her skirt in her fingers, sliding her hand between her legs, pressing one finger between the pink, wet lips of her pussy, stroking the others along either side of her mons.

  “Tom,” she purred. “I’m horny. Bring me off, darling...”

  “What, you mean your Dad hasn’t been giving his darling daughter’s beautiful ass a thorough fucking?”

  “Yes, he did,” Emma said. “For most of last night. But that was then and now I’m sitting in the garden with my fingers in my cunt and I’m very, very horny. Please, Tom,” she begged. “Bring me off!”

  “Alright,” Tom said. “Just let me open the belt of my bathrobe. Mmm, that’s better,” and Emma knew her boyfriend was caressing the long, thick cock she loved so much.

  “How long before you first fucked Tasha on this trip?” Emma asked.

  Tasha, short for Natasha, was Tom’s intern, blonde, beautiful, recently graduated from university, gifted with a high IQ and magnificent breasts, sweetly innocent until Tom seduced her, taking her in every hole the first time he took her to bed and every time since.

  “Almost as soon as we’d taken off,” he said. “The plane was a charter Learjet so there was only one flight attendant. I told her Tasha and I had to discuss important business and she drew the curtain. I swear Tasha is gifted at managing to suck my cock and masturbate herself in perfect rhythm. Very arousing.”

  “Did you bugger her?”

  “No, I didn’t dare. Couldn’t trust the flight attendant to mind her own business. You know my intuition, could have sworn she’d have liked nothing better than a sweaty threesome with Tasha and I...”

  Knowing Tom’s beautiful intern, Emma could just imagine how erotic Tasha would look lying on her back, a ravishing female flight attendant licking between her legs while Tom fed his cock down her throat. The image was so arousing Emma felt close to orgasm already.

  “At the hotel then?”

  “At the foot of the bed, as a matter of fact,” Tom said, his voice thick with lust and Emma knew he was close to coming himself.

  “I’ve trained her so well she simply unbuttons her blouse to expose her breasts, slides the zip of her skirt down to kick it off and then lies face-down across the bed. She lubes herself before she leaves home and all I have to do is undo my belt, bare my cock and press the head against her sphincter. It’s like a little mouth, opening to swallow my prick until the velvety heat of her rectum clasps every last inch tight, my balls rubbing against the wet lips of her cunt. Heavenly, especially when she reaches her hands back to pull the cheeks of her ass wide and starts moaning softly with desire.”

  “Oh, god, Tom, I can just see you doing it,” Emma said and she arched her hips up off the swing-seat, thrust three bunched fingers into the sopping hole of her flooded cunt and came, a sweet explosion that radiated out across her body, making her breasts heave and her stomach convulse in waves of pleasure.

  “Emma? Did you come, darling? Did you come to the thought of me pumping my creamy spunk into Tasha’s bowels, just as I love to do with you?”

  “Yes, Tom,” Emma whispered. “I came, just for you. Now you come for me, sweetheart,” she urged. “I want a big load of hot sticky cream to shoot from your cock all over your fingers. Do it, da
rling, do it now!”

  “Oh, Emma, Em?!“

  Tom’s voice saying her name suddenly turned into a groan from deep in his chest and Emma knew he was ejaculating, jets of semen spurting from the tip of his prick until his balls were drained.

  There was a sweet moment when Emma listened to Tom breathing hard and then he said, softly, lovingly, “Mmm, that was nice...”

  “Yes. It was,” she said. “And yes, I do miss you. Very much.”

  “And I miss you, too,” he said. “Talk to you tomorrow?”

  “Please,” Emma said.

  She didn’t need to add that she loved him. He knew she did, as he loved her, and that was why she was unconcerned how often he fucked Tasha’s pert, curvy behind, any more than he minded how many men she slept with or that she was enjoying having sex with her father.

  Suddenly, thinking about her Dad made Emma aware of the time. She straightened her clothes, gathered up her books and put the phone back in her bag. It was time for her to return to being a devoted daughter and put in an appearance at the village fete...

  Saturday Afternoon

  Still blissed out from masturbating as she listened to her boyfriend Tom describe feeding the whole of his nine inch cock down the throat of Tasha, his blonde, melon-breasted intern, Emma walked onto the field where the village fete was held every year. People were fussing over tables, arranging displays of flowers, fresh fruit and vegetables to be judged for prizes. Bouncy castles, skittles and other games for children were being set up, and all sorts of donated bottles and jars labeled ready for the raffle in aid of the church repair fund.

  As she walked over to the tent where she expected to find her mother Emma was charmed by the smiles and greetings of people who recognized her as the daughter of Doctor Boswell. The entrance flap of the tent was zipped up behind a sign that said ‘Closed - back in 45 minutes’ but Emma decided to go in anyway.