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And Papa Makes Three

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Inspired by Juan and Conchita

* * * * *

Juan’s Story: Before

My family and I moved to a new part of the city when I was sixteen years old. I met Conchita on the first day in my new school and fell in love with her instantly. That was seven years ago and we have been married for the last three. She is a most beautiful woman. Conchita is five feet nine tall, has long, black, curly hair; almost down to her waist, in fact. She has big, brown eyes, high cheekbones, a full sensuous mouth and a 36-24-36 figure.

She has only ever had one lover – me! That fact is, strangely, the source of great pride for me and also my greatest frustration. You see, from the very beginning, I have had this overwhelming desire to see Conchita having sex with another man. I don’t necessarily want to join in, but just watch. There is something intensely exciting about seeing something you possess being used by someone else. I have made no secret of this desire to my wife and on many occasions have pointed out possible avenues that we could explore together. But Conchita has always refused to listen. Her reasons are that she loves only me and is afraid that if she has sex with another man, then he may spoil that love; either he might be a better lover than me and Conchita would become obsessed by him, or I would become jealous and leave her. Although her reasons did not pour water over the flames of my fantasies, I had to admit that she did have a point.

But then, at a birthday party two years ago for one of Conchita’s many cousins, I saw something which has fuelled my desires ever since. Conchita had worn a little black dress and red high heeled shoes and looked like sex on legs. Many men looked at her with desire in there eyes, but I saw one particular man looking at her with such an obvious expression of lust that he might well have had a plaque around his neck stating: ‘I want to screw you’. I have thought about that man and Conchita together many times since, either while I have been fucking her, or on those many occasions when I have had to use my own hand. And now, lying flat on the bed, having just emptied my semen into Conchita’s invitingly hot mouth, I decided to tell her about this man.

‘Baby, baby, you give head like you’re a professional.’ I complimented.

Conchita coyly smiled and said that she had learned the art through me and no other. I laughed and told her that was true, but that I knew of a man who would love to have her swallow his cum. Conchita grimaced at my bringing up this old chestnut and re-iterated the reasons why she could never consider another man.

‘I know what you’ve said in the past, baby, and I think you were right. But this man is different.’ I hinted, hoping she would ask me why. She did.

‘This man is different, baby, because I could never get jealous of him and you could never fall in love with him’. Conchita’s curiosity was pricked, and she now had to know why such a man might exist and invited me to carry on.

‘You could never fall in love with him, baby, because you already do love him.’ I teased.

‘I only love one man and that’s you’, Conchita exclaimed.

I couldn’t keep it to myself any longer and had to blurt it out:

‘Me and your father’, I whispered.

Conchita looked blank for a moment as she grasped what I had just said. Then she told me that the thought was disgusting. I mentioned how her father had looked at her that night at her cousin’s birthday party and many other occasions since. In fact, whenever Conchita wore a low top or short skirt, her father would always be stealing glances at her. Surely she must have been aware of this. Conchita had become angry with me and turned away to her side of the bed. But I was determined, and now that I had brought the subject up, I was damned if I was going to let it drop without a fight.

Next day, her frostiness had gone, and I decided to leave matters until the weekend when her father and mother were due to spend Saturday evening with us and stay overnight. I thought to myself that if I couldn’t get to Conchita, then maybe I could get to her father.

Conchita spent most of Saturday afternoon preparing dinner and cleaning the house in readiness for her parents. They usually came for dinner once a month, and though they only lived about five miles away, it was easier for them to stay over and enjoy a drink than to drive home and have to remain sober.

Her parents arrived at about six o’clock and I went to meet them at their car and carried their overnight bags into the spare bedroom whilst Conchita made them something to drink. I put her father’s bag on the side I knew he slept and made sure he could see what I had planted earlier. A few years ago I took some photos of Conchita. They were not dirty pictures, just shots of her in some sexy dresses, lingerie, and bikinis. I used to like to look at them myself whenever I wanted to masturbate. Earlier that morning, I had placed three of these photographs in between some books that lay flat on the second shelf istanbul escort of the bedside table that would be closest to Conchita’s father. One of them showed her posing in the bedroom wearing a white bikini and sling backs, another in a mini dress and high heeled pumps and in the third, she was standing against the bedroom wall in a black teddy, stockings and high heeled sandals. I positioned this last one so that her legs were visible up to mid thigh and hoped that it might tempt her father to look more closely. I would be able to tell by their position next morning whether he had looked at them or not.

At about seven o’clock, Conchita excused herself to have a shower and change for dinner, leaving me to entertain her parents. We had a couple more drinks, talked about our jobs, our houses, the family. By the time Conchita’s footsteps were heard coming down the stairs forty minutes later, we were all pretty much on the way to being merry. The living room door opened slowly as Conchita came in. I sat on a chair talking to her mother, who didn’t take much notice of her daughter’s entrance, and had a good view of her father sitting next to his wife on our long couch. From the corner of my eye I could see that Conchita looked stunning. She wore a short, skin tight red dress and black, four inch heeled pumps. Her naturally olive skin seemed to glow. And all the time that he thought no one was looking, I caught sight of Conchita’s father eyeing her with that same look of desire that I had seen many times. During the course of the evening, as Conchita moved around us, clearing plates, serving food, or picking up empty wine glasses from the floor, her father must have realised the same thing that I had; That the only way his daughter could possibly have worn such a clinging dress, was by not wearing any underwear. I wondered if that thought made him feel as horny about her as I did.

At around eleven o’clock, Conchita’s mother had done her usual trick and passed out. Her father dragged her upstairs, apologising for his wife’s behaviour, leaving Conchita and I alone to clear up. As soon as they had disappeared from sight, I told Conchita that she looked fantastic and asked her if she had noticed how her father had been secretly eyeing her up all evening. She told me that it was all in my imagination. I explained that I knew the look of desire on a man’s face when I see it and I told her it would be very easy to get him to make a pass at her. Conchita said no way. But, I thought, with less conviction than when I had first raised the possibility.

I followed Conchita up to our bedroom, admiring her ass as it wiggled in front of me. I could hear no noise from her father and mother in the bedroom next door and wondered if he was even now, looking at the photos of his daughter that I had left for him. That thought, and Conchita removing her dress to show that I had been correct about her lack of underwear, both served to make me feel very horny indeed. Normally when her mother and father stay over, Conchita and I do not make love. She has a tendency to be noisy during sex, and combined with the squeaking bed springs, says she would feel uncomfortable the next morning. But that night, I wanted her father to hear his daughter’s cries of pleasure as I fucked her to orgasm, and have him wish that he was in my place.

So, against her protestations, I started to bang away at my wife. I knew that her mother would be out for the night and that her father would be the only one to hear our love making. I performed at my best that night, spurred on by the thought of our audience on the other side of the wall. Conchita was taken to such a height of ecstasy that she could not prevent the loud moans and yelps as I brought her to a climax. Just before she reached that crescendo, I lowered my lips to her ear and whispered:

‘Imagine this was your father on top of you now and not me. Wouldn’t it be exciting to be fucked by him, baby? Imagine the thrill of doing something so wrong. Imagine your husband watching you being used like a sex object by your own father.’

Conchita said nothing in reply, but as I spoke these things, I noticed that her breathing increased rapidly. And by the time I had finished my last word, she was in the throes of climax. As Conchita recovered from her orgasm, I asked her if she would consider my proposition if I could prove to her beyond all doubt that her father was lusting after his daughter. She lay quiet for a long time before finally giving me an answer:


Next morning at breakfast, I tried to see if I could detect a look of envy in Conchita’s father’s expression. But he was too busy nursing his wife’s hangover to show any other reaction. It was for this reason that they left before eating anything. As they drove off, I was desperate to see if the photos I had left in his room had been moved, indicating that my father in law had looked at them. Conchita asked where I was off to in such a hurry, but I remained silent. I dashed into the bedroom her parents avrupa yakası escort had occupied and walked quickly over to the bedside table where I had placed the pictures. I knew that a simple re-positioning of them would hardly constitute the proof that my wife needed, but at least it would prove it to me, and that would carry me on to more devious methods.

As I approached the bedside table, I could see that Conchita’s father had indeed looked at the photos of his daughter, because the legs that I had left visibly sticking out between the books were not there. He must have put them well out of sight after he had examined them, maybe even masturbated over them whilst Conchita’s mother had been in the bathroom. I bent down to find and remove them, but even after looking through all of the books on the table I could not find the pictures anywhere. It finally dawned upon me that he had taken them with him. My head felt very light as the realisation that I had been right all along hit me. This was the proof I needed to convince Conchita that her father really was sexually interested in her. I ran downstairs and into the kitchen where Conchita was having some breakfast. I had a big grin on my face and she asked me why I was so happy. I told my wife what I had just found, or rather, hadn’t found, in the bedroom used by her father. I went through all the evidence that I had. Then, with a lump in my throat, I asked her if I could go ahead with my plans for her seduction by her father. Conchita was silent for a moment, deep in thought. It felt like a lifetime before she finally spoke;

‘Do what you have to’, she said. Her voice was less enthusiastic than I had hoped, but at least I had gotten her to agree to it. I could hardly believe it; she really had just agreed to having sex with her father. Now I could put my plan into action.

I had to wait until her parents came to stay with us the following month. The Saturday evening went like all the others. Conchita’s mother collapsed under the excess of alcohol and was taken to bed by her father. That night I was even more horny than usual. I explained to Conchita that I wanted her to be as noisy as possible during our love making. I told her that I would be having sex with her three times before we got up on Sunday morning. She looked quizzically at me but I just said that it was essential to my plan.

I fucked Conchita as soon as we went to bed, again at around three in the morning, and once more just as the sun came up. She was as loud as I had wanted her to be, and there was no way that her father in the room next door wouldn’t have heard us.

Next morning I told Conchita to get herself and her mother out of the house for half an hour or so, leaving me alone with her father. She made me promise to be subtle in my approach to him. I told her not to worry. If everything went to plan, he wouldn’t know that he was being manipulated, and any seduction would see her as an innocent party.

Conchita managed to convince her mother that a trip to the market was necessary, and with a final glance of concern in my direction, she left the house. Conchita’s father was reading the Sunday paper in the living room. I excused myself, telling him that I was just popping down to the tool shed at the end of the back yard to check out supplies for a barbecue. When I got there, I took out the cellular phone I had brought with me and dialled my own house number. I must admit that I was a little nervous as I waited for Conchita’s father to pick up the receiver. Then, suddenly, I heard his familiar voice saying hello. I covered the mouthpiece with a handkerchief and, speaking in a deeper tone, introduced myself as Carlos wanting to talk to Juan. I prayed that he wouldn’t recognise the voice as that of his son in law. What excuse could I possibly give? But no, everything was alright. He told my alter ego, Carlos, to hang on whilst he shouted for me in the yard. I heard him put the phone down on the table as he walked towards the back door.

‘Juan, there’s a phone call for you. Guy called Carlos.’

‘Be right there.’ I replied.

Leaving the cell phone live, I dashed into the house and picked up the phone in the hall. I left the door open so that Conchita’s father could eavesdrop on my conversation with myself. I made it sound as though Carlos was offering me a ticket to go with him to the other end of the country to watch my home town soccer team play an important match. This would involve an overnight stay in a hotel. I replied that I’d love to, but that I couldn’t leave my wife alone, not even for just one night.

Knowing that my stage whisper voice was carrying to my father in law in the living room, I made it seem as though my friend was dragging an answer out of me. So I made an explanation which basically said that Conchita had very recently become addicted to sex, and that I was worried if she didn’t get it from me then she would from someone else. I told the imaginary Carlos that if I went away to watch bahçelievler escort this soccer game with him, then by eight o’clock that evening, Conchita would have on her shortest dress, her highest heels and be out trawling the downtown bars looking for a man. I kept up this repartee for a couple of minutes before finally allowing myself to be coaxed into going away for the night with Carlos. I made sure that I clearly mentioned the date that I would be away from home hoping that Conchita’s father was taking this all in.

When Conchita and her mother returned, I took my wife to one side and told her to act disappointed when I announced my trip away and that I would explain everything when her parents had gone. She duly did this, and something from her father’s expression told me that he had heard and digested every word I had said to my non existent friend. From now on the ball was in his court.

* * * * *

Conchita’s story: Before and During

When Juan first brought up the subject of Papa lusting after me, he thought that it came as a surprise. In fact, I had known this for a very long time. Even before Juan and I had met, I had been aware that the looks Papa had given me when Momma wasn’t looking were not the looks that a father gives a daughter. At first it frightened me. But, as I became older, that fear turned to excitement. I would deliberately wear revealing clothes when he was around, always hoping for that rush of adrenaline if I could catch him looking at my breasts or legs.

So, when Juan first suggested that he could get Papa to make a pass at me, I was filled with mixed feelings. On the one hand I desperately wanted something to come of it, but on the negative side, I was afraid that something might go wrong. I was finally convinced when Juan told me of the photos Papa had taken. Only a man who really fancied his daughter would risk doing such a thing. But it still served my purposes to be seen by Juan as a less than enthusiastic participant to incest.

After my parents had gone home that Sunday morning, Juan was so excited about what was to happen that he said he had to start making plans right away. He had arranged for my father to think that I was some kind of nymphomaniac, who would be all alone this coming Wednesday and out on the town looking for a man. Juan assured me that if Papa did have any intentions of coming on to me, then he would find some way of coming around on Wednesday and making his move. Juan also said that Papa must have formulated some kind of plan of his own and that all I had to do was to show the same kind of passive reaction that I would give to any other man. In other words, Juan said, let Papa do all the running.

Wednesday afternoon came and Juan arrived home from work early at about four o’clock. He said he had parked the car two blocks away so that if Papa did come around then he would not see it. He went into the little cupboard we have in the living room and set up a video link to a TV in our room. I could see from the picture that there was a good view of the couch and one easy chair, so Juan told me to make sure that any action was centred there. On no account was I to let Papa take me out of the field of vision, he instructed.

At around five o’clock, Juan told me to go upstairs and get ready just in case Papa came early. To be honest I didn’t think that he would come at all. It’s one thing to fantasise about screwing your daughter, but quite another to actually put it into reality. For all that though, my heart was fluttering with anticipation.

I showered first before getting myself ready for Papa. I put my long hair into a controlled mess on top and secured it in place with a ribbon. Then I applied full night time make up and deep red lip gloss. Juan told me to dress as if I was going out to a club. With that in mind, I put on a silver top, which just about covered my boobs and was held in place by a thin halter strap which was fastened into an easy to undo bow lower down my back. The material was shiny, and so thin that any hardening of my nipples would be instantly visible. Then I slipped a black vinyl micro skirt over my hips, which, even though extremely short, still had slits in the sides allowing a view to the very top of my thighs. In fact, the splits were so high that the sides of my panties would have been visible if I had decided to wear any, which I hadn’t. Finally, I picked out a pair of black strappy sandals with four inch heels and straps that fastened half way up my calves. As I looked at myself in the mirror I was very pleased with my sexy, tarty appearance.

When I entered the lounge, Juan too expressed his satisfaction at the way I looked, and said that I must be the sexiest bait that had ever been dangled in front of a man. And that’s exactly what I felt like; jail bait for my father.

The time had moved on to seven o’clock and it was beginning to get dark outside. I pulled the curtains in the living room and switched on the table lamps. They would serve two purposes. First, the light would show to Papa that there was someone at home if he should drive by, and secondly, that they would give the necessary illumination to video record any action that might occur. Juan suggested that we go up to the front bedroom and keep an eye out for Papa through the darkened windows.

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