Primal Scream (Box Set #1, Taboo Sex + AFF) (17 page)

But no matter how he tried, he couldn’t seem to fall asleep in a bed of lies.

Deryk headed off to the restroom to jerk himself off again, when he started fixating on how he’d rocked Aimee to sleep when she was a young girl, lightly patting her bottom and rubbing her back, until she was soundly asleep.

He still managed to touch her as a teen. She didn’t scream, or hit him or move back, or shoot daggers at his face.

But she was a young lady now, not a young kid. And he couldn’t get the photos of her killer gravity-defying tits and ass he’d seen on her computer, out of his memory. It was a body made for riding, a body displayed in all its glory as she shook herself in front of her camera, smacking her cute little ass with her hand, the same ass he’d cupped and patted, all those years ago. He’d tit fuck his way with her too, rubbing and squeezing her heavenly naturally large breasts against his rock-hard cock. It’d be a bigger rush than several hits from a huge crystal bowl of pure cocaine.

If he had Aimee’s body, he’d be turning himself on all day long too.

He’d taken his marriage vows too seriously. Deryk was now overwhelmed with an obsessive curiosity about Aimee going down on him, exactly like Meg and Tomás were doing.

Having a hot young thing desire someone in their mid to late forties was pretty cool. One would have to be in really good shape for the younger individual to even be asking in the first place. Who would say no, to a young, fit, sexy person one genuinely loved and cared for?

* * *

[ Sunday, 12:10 am ]

The waitress, Amy, sidled up to Deryk when he left the casino, a little after midnight. He was $500 poorer. Not bad, considering the dude next to him had blown $2,000 in less than a half hour since he’d stepped into Hollywood Slots.

“
Are you staying here?” Amy asked, looking up at him through her heavily mascara’ed lashes.

“
Yeah,” Deryk replied, turning his body towards her.
Wanna spend the night?
He’d cheated twice on Meg. They’d been quick one night stands which didn’t involve any emotional ties. Deryk never told Meg or anyone, though he felt guilty about it, and deeply regretted it, for a long while. But not anymore. He felt hollowed out by Meg’s actions. She would never be to him what she was on their wedding day. The fairytale had ended.

Deryk was going to take whatever came at him, since he didn’t know if he could ever put it across to Aimee. If she wasn’t sending any “signals,” it’d best be avoided. They had a good father-daughter relationship.
If it ain’t broke, don’t fix it.

“
It’s my last day at work here.”

“
Oh! Where’re you headed?”

“
Vegas,” Amy replied, with a slight tilt of her head, which made her soft curls bounce as they fell over the side of her shoulder. She slightly squeezed her boobs together, a little higher up, angling them towards Deryk’s mouth.

He brought an arm around her lower back, when a group of loud, overweight thugs with their fake Gucci underwear hanging out with their pants about to fall off ambled right past. One of them bumped up against Amy, and she stumbled smack onto Deryk’s broad chest, right up against him—she could feel his hard-on against her thigh, and he could feel her body soften, her breasts squished up against him, God he was so near, he could almost just reach his hand over and rip her top and bra off, and start licking and nibbling on her hard sugar nipples.

“
I’ve to go…right now,” Amy said, with a sad look in her eye. “My cousin’s meeting me here at 12:30—she’s got my bag. I’m taking a bus out to Vegas. The bus leaves at 2 a.m.”

Deryk walked beside Amy, hand around her waist, as they stepped out of the hotel, into the indoor carpark.

“
I’m old enough to be your dad,” he said with a slight grin. But as long as his dick still worked, he wasn’t going to complain.

“
I saw you riding in on your bike,” she said, a little breathlessly, glancing in the direction where he’d parked his bike. “I wanted to ride you, the whole time I was looking at you…”

They took a few more steps towards one side of the carpark, before she grabbed his hand, and put his hand down her underwear. She was fucking soaking wet. She’d have gotten wet through her uniform, which didn’t consist of too much fabric to begin with.

Deryk looked at his watch—12:20 a.m. She fished out a condom from her purse, holding it in between her index and third finger, looking up at him with sweet, puppy dog eyes, and slowly rubbing her tits against his chest.

They went around to one of the last rows of cars at the end of the carpark, and did it right there—he brought her down to the floor, hiking up her skirt to her waist while he whipped his cock out and slapped it against her clit, before she whipped herself around and spun them both around, lifting her tight shirt over her head, lifting her bra up against her breasts, smashing her tits against his face, as she spread her flexible thighs and legs flat out to the sides—just like in Aimee’s video clip.

She rode his cock hardcore to the limit, his hands around and underneath her lovely, smooth taut ass, to protect her delicate skin from the asphalt. He thought of his daughter when his hand was around Amy’s neck, as the cocktail waitress reached in to give him a hot kiss brimming over with generous, unbridled lust—his consciousness flickering off momentarily, then switching back on to visualize Aimee and her photos, then Amy
as
Aimee, squeezing her lady lumps and working her pelvic muscles like she’d trained everyday for this. She rode his cock like a rodeo star, bucking and grinding her snatch, before pulling off.

“
Cum in my mouth,
mmm…
” she cooed, looking him directly into his eyes, moaning and smiling. Deryk felt he was jumping out of his skin from pleasure when she took everything he had in her mouth, and swallowed his load.

She scrambled up when they heard a distinct honk—she half-helped Deryk stumble up, and gave him one last, lingering, sweet kiss with her tongue and lips, before hugging him around the neck, and whispering, “You’re
soooo
fucking hot.” She slipped him her number on a plain white card, and adjusted her skirt, tottering off in her heels to her cousin’s Ford.

Deryk gazed at her as she was walking away, never taking his eyes of the leather skirt around her ass. He stood still, standing behind one of the cars, and zipped his jeans when he realized his fly was still open, after the car had driven off.

He only realized his hands had been on the asphalt once his knuckles started to sting. But better his hands than a divine ass. He didn’t know if his hands burned more, or his neck, where the cocktail waitress had last touched him, with a long, loving hug—just like Aimee always did.

* * *

[ Sunday, 12:45 pm ]

Deryk entertained Meg’s call in the morning, after he’d forgotten to reply her text from the previous night at 11 p.m. They both cordially entertained each other—she used the excuse that she was busy looking for something of Tomás’ (
a condom?
Deryk thought), while Deryk said he was sleepy but looking forward to meeting Aimee. He said he’d “say Meg and Tomás sent her their best wishes to ‘kill the competition’!” Which wasn’t entirely untrue anyhow, even if they couldn’t be in NYC, regardless of the reasons they gave. Maybe Tomás’ game was a convenient excuse to steal away for yet another day of paradise, in mother-son bonding.

Deryk picked out a simple black screen-print T-shirt, current-looking, but not too teenagerish that it’d make him look desperate to “regain his youth.”
So,
he thought,
Meg’s a cougar, with her cub.

There wasn’t any pretty term for a male cougar. Except for ‘rhino’, or ‘dirty old man’.

He dragged himself over to Pearson’s School of Design, where the co-host ushered them into the waiting area. Deryk tried hard not to break into a cold sweat, as he thought of what Aimee had under whatever she happened to be wearing that day, before setting aside scandalous thoughts of her. He’d had Amy last night, a bonifide slut who loved to get ridden hard and put away wet—
God bless them girls, God bless them for existing.
There were other girls like that. He wasn’t going to think of Aimee that way.

Deryk tried not to look bored with one of the contestant’s mothers telling him how famous her freakin’ talented fashion-prodigy daughter would be, when the co-host stepped in, announcing they would be meeting the contestants in

5…4…3…2…

“
OH MY GOD!” one of the contestants shrieked, as soon as the door was open. Everything seemed to be a swirl of a whir of surreal activity—cameramen and lights, huge lights everywhere, reminding Deryk that everything was being captured on film. Every step, the slightest glint of a faraway, masturbatory hint in his eyes, and the moment might be recorded and YouTube’d and Tweeted for the rest of time. Deryk knew that the cameras were always rolling—

“
Hi, Daddy-O!” and Aimee’s arms were around his neck.

Deryk hugged her back, catching a whiff of her perfume, an alluring scent combined with the warmth from her body. He gazed at the brightly-colored walls surrounding them, gazing at the fabrics and material strewn all over the tables all around the room, looking anywhere but her curves, which were enhanced by a simple, thin-strapped slip dress. He rested his hand on her lower back, just, just, just before the curve of her butt began, a searing ache in his crotch, his hand was so near that smack-tastic fine perky ass which he so wanted to squeeze, see her shiver and shake, and—

“
Contestants,” the always-impeccable co-host announced, as he explained to the overjoyed participants the rules for the rest of the day. There was a visible, audible sigh of relief from the contestants, when they heard the good news that they’d have the day off to sightsee NYC with their loved one.

Deryk was standing now with his hands in his pockets, wishing he could whitewash everyone else in the room away: the urbane co-host, the lovey-dovey touchy-feely gay couple to the side in one corner, the cameramen and their clunky equipment, so it’d be just him and Aimee. He’d just hold her, lightly run his hands through her hair, and faint in her divine glory.

He felt like a dead man. He couldn’t even claim his own daughter, a product of his own self!

There were two cameramen assigned to each contestant and their family member.

“
Where’d you like to go?” Aimee asked Deryk, looking up into his eyes.

Her open, caring gaze soothed Deryk. He hadn’t been able to look at Meg and Tomás the same way since Wednesday. Aimee, he could still trust.

“
Anywhere…I’m just glad to be here with you.”

He almost swung around to smash the two cameras—and the guys behind the camera—for trailing his and Aimee’s every move, from the time they stepped out of the design room in Pearson’s. Even if the cameras weren’t on, the presence of the cameramen was a hindrance to truly being in the moment with Aimee.

Father and stepdaughter strolled down the street together, Deryk feeling he was being sucked into the vortex of a bad romance.

“
So how’re you doing?” Deryk asked, just noticing their location: a quaint high-end café serving handmade artsy confectionery and beverages. The café was a true New York City landmark, overlooking Central Park. Their table at the corner made for an enchanting hideaway, the perfect spot for a romantic outing between clandestine lovers.

Deryk finally looked at Aimee, and noticed she was looking a little stressed and worn-out. Was she getting it on with the other contestants, or with the camera crew? That kind of hardcore activity would eventually wear out even the fittest person alive, if they did it all the time. He wanted to slide his hand up under her burgundy slip dress, get down on the ground, bury his face between her thighs like Meg did with—

“
Oh, there’s so much competition,” Aimee sighed, wringing her hands together.

Deryk was sitting down, sort of listening to her—
screw you, camera guys
—trying not to concentrate on his growing erection.

Aimee was just as frustrated as Deryk, even though he was too lost in his own instincts and urges to notice. She was stressed out from competing on the show, and wanted to spend some quiet time alone with her dad, who’d taken the time to come over and show his support. She didn’t want to have to be aware of everything that came out of her mouth, because the cameras were rolling.