Trapper and Emmeline (19 page)

We heard the argument in the backyard suddenly change tone. My father and Petro got quiet. We heard a laugh.

“They’re at the kiss and make up stage,” Stace warned.

“Where do I put the cum?” Thor asked, like he was trying to hide a beer from his mother.

I didn’t have any good ideas. Wel , I had one good idea.

“Ah, shit, guys. This is going to look terrible.”

I took Thor’s hand in mine and pul ed it to my mouth. I caught the dangling strands of cum on my tongue, and quickly sucked down each finger. The main puddle in the palm of his hand I just lapped up, with three or four licks. I had Thor’s hand clean, if wet and shiny, by the time we heard the back door open.

I tracked Dad and Petro by their voices through the house. They detoured into the kitchen, where I heard the fridge door open.

I was just breathing a sigh of relief when I felt another hand in my crotch. This time it was Bil y. He scooped another handful of Stace’s ungodly volume of cum as it drooled from my pussy. He held his hand up to my mouth, as if he was being helpful.

“Shit, Bil y! My father is right next—”

He didn’t let me finish. I had to take Bil y’s hand before he tried to pour cum into my mouth and got it al over my face. I licked his hand clean as quickly as possible. I lapped at it like a kitten drinking milk. I felt like an idiot, but the men were watching me, rapt, like this was high theater and Hamlet was just discovering just how deep Ophelia’s madness ran.

(Thank you, col ege literature classes! And yes, I’m Ophelia in that metaphor, the original sexy halfwit.) The cum had the briny taste of a man, except that the taste covered fingers which curled in my mouth as I sucked them. It was like I was blowing a hand-dick, a weird new kind of sex organ that cupped my chin, smeared semen everywhere, and articulated in unexpected ways as I sucked it off. It was arousing and alien, and it would have been hilarious if the men hadn’t been taking it so seriously. Also, my actual physical existence was on the line—if Dad found me eating cum out of his friends’ hands, death would only be the start of the punishment. And forget it if he thought to ask who’s cum it was, you could say good-bye to most of Queens. We’re talking gigaton-scale rage. Re-route off La Guardia, folks.

So I didn’t feel like pondering the perversely aroused, humiliated, confused, and fearful feelings I was experiencing just then. I had to get that damn hand clean before Dad finished in the kitchen.

“Thor!” I hissed. “No, dammit.”

The simpleton had grabbed yet another gob of cum from between my legs. I final y squeezed my knees together—

though it was a little like closing the barn door after the horse leaked out and I had to eat it.

Luckily, this last load of cum was more me than Stace, because I’m not exactly a high-capacity storage system after al , and we were final y running out of his spunk. The strangeness and urgency of the situation, mixed with the incredible misbehavior of the men, had made me monumental y wet.

I glanced at Stace as I licked off Thor’s hand again. Stace was riveted, and slightly disgusted. We had made passionate, time-constrained love not ten minutes prior, and it had been a magical continuation of that night from Prom. At least, it was magical for me, to final y have closure on that night. Stace had rescued my Prom and made it beautiful. At the time, I thought it would be the most beautiful night of a short, cancer-stalked life. So Stace had demigod status in my mind.

He had a permanent spot in my teen-aged sexual fantasies—fantasies that grew stronger and more explicit as I went into remission and regained my health. Now I was a grown woman. I had been so happy to be able to show Stace my appreciation, as only a woman can show a man.

And now he was watching me guzzle cum out of his friends’ hands.

The two sides of Emmeline.

I finished Thor’s second helping, and said, mostly for his benefit: “Everybody, we probably shouldn’t tel Daddy about this. And let’s keep al the kissing at the beginning a secret too.”

“Can we come back for another visit soon, Emmy?” Bil y asked. “I had no idea you were like this.”

“Wel , yes! But don’t think—”

Dad turned the corner and I had to stop. I wanted to say, “But don’t think I’m going to be like this al the time.” I’d have to be firmer about my boundaries. Which would be difficult, because I had already let them cross quite a few lines.

Dad had a shiner, and Petro had two. That was fine. My chin and cheeks were slick with semen. We al had problems.

Petro squared himself in front of me and cleared his throat.

“Emmeline, I’m sorry I made you self-conscious by mentioning that you look like a woman.”

I goggled at him, and he gave a little bow.

“That’s okay Petro,” I said meekly. “I know I’m starting to grow up.”

He rol ed his eyes.

Then, to my surprise, Dad stepped forward. “Emmeline, I’m sorry I dragged you out in front of my friends while you are naked. I have power issues and this was just another way to confirm I am in control.”

Petro gave him an approving nod, and they both stepped back at the same time. It was cute and disturbing.

Dad beamed at us, one by one.

Dad is not a dumb guy. He manages over a hundred construction workers at a very technical construction project.

Let’s just say he has huge blind spots where I’m concerned. It’s al due to my mother.

The pretty girl he loved when he was a badass in Special Forces always fucked around on him when he was on deployment. I have not yet been able to figure out how he felt about it, but he certainly knew. When he was away, she sent him pictures of herself with other men. She got pregnant with my brother Sijun, and Dad married her. Then she had me.

We never checked if Sijun and I were actual y my Dad’s children. It kil s me to know that Dad may not be my biological father. That’s how much my mother fucked around.

But look what I’m saying, and look who I’m talking to, Trapper. Generations repeat, I guess, right? Like mother, like daughter.

Maybe I’m into al this craziness with you as a way to connect with my mother. She left us and lived with a string of boyfriends, and supported herself in… many different ways. When she final y returned—welcomed by my Dad without any questions—she was like a twitchy, feral animal in hooker clothes. Dad is a towering, scary, self-deluded, over-control ing guy with a big heart, and Mom had him whipped three ways to Sunday.

But then, against my expectations, Mom settled back into our family. We kids were happy for once. We had a year of perfect joy, and then she fel in front of a city bus and died a month later in a coma. I was ten years old, and in my Dad’s eyes, I have not aged a day since.

Al this sad backstory is to explain how I could end up naked on a sofa ful of Dad’s friends, with him not giving a shit about it. It was truly surreal.

“Petro, go sit down. Emmeline, you squeeze in and watch the game with us, yeah?”

I didn’t dare to contradict him. Whatever enchantment Dad was under, I wasn’t about to snap him out of it.

Petro took my spot and I sat in his lap. Petro’s hands slid around my torso and rested on my naked hips. It was actual y quite chaste, al things considered.

Dad didn’t notice a thing. He futzed with the remote, and then said, “Beers for everybody?”

“Sure!”

“And you, Emmy?” he asked me. “You’re one of the guys now, growing up—ha-ha! So you want to try one?”

“Sure, Daddy,” I said.

As soon as Dad was gone, Petro squeezed my hips. “Shit, girl, but you owe me big time for saving your hooker ass.”

“What do you mean?” I turned to him indignantly. I had to quickly walk back my outrage, because, of course, he had a close-up view of the cum spread around my face.

“Sammy is in hyper-denial mode, Emmy. Your mom whored around on him. Whored around on your whole family.

What do you think it wil do to him if he sees you whoring around with us?”

I hadn’t thought of that. I felt terrible, until Petro spoke his next words.

“Now, he liked it with your mom. He’d share her out to anybody who asked. And don’t get me wrong, she was a fun piece of ass. She was a leopard between the sheets, kil you as soon as fuck you, a total emotional nutcase. Hide-the-knives stuff. But Emmeline, if Sam sees you going the same route as her, he’s going to turn worried and fatherly toward you. He’s going to hate what you’re doing. And that wil spoil the best memories he has of your crazy mother. You know he stil loves her, and she’s been dead almost 10 years. I don’t want you to turn those memories sour.”

Whoa,
was al I could think.

“Dad knew about my mom?”

“You look just like her,” said Stace. His voice was solemn, his face distant with memory.

“You, and my mother too?”

He nodded wistful y. I knew that look.

“So when you fucked me just now, were you fucking my mother? Because for me it was much, much more—”

Stace put a finger to my lips. “You’re not your mother. And I’ve been head over heels for you since that night at Prom. I don’t know if you remember it. I felt like I was sixteen again and I had very inappropriate urges toward you. Cancer be damned.”

Tears wel ed in my eyes.

He continued, “I love my wife, and I’m perfectly happy with my family. But you are my teen-age crush, even though I found you in my forties. I hope we get to make love again, and do it right next time.”

I nodded. I was too moved to speak.

Bil y found a way to ruin the moment. With a soft, fervent voice, he added, “And me too.”

Thor tweaked my chin. I supposed that meant he wanted in, also.

I flashed on a sudden vision of my mother—who I could only dimly remember by this point as an association of warm smel s, cutting words, manic emotions—being a kind of
succubus
for al these men. I saw her moving from man to man, a sex-gypsy, pleasing everybody, driving them mad with lust when she was with them, and then mad with longing when she was with someone else. My father’s vast network of friends and professional associates. Knit together with his domineering personality and her compulsive sexuality.

Was I compulsively sexual too?
I didn’t want to think about it. I mean, look where I was, look at my situation. I would have to chew that question over later.

I asked, “Did al of Daddy’s friends fuck my mother?”

Petro shrugged, a little uncomfortable. “Al the old friends, yes. Not the recent ones like Bil y or Thor, of course.”

“You’re al motherfuckers,” I said, and burst into inappropriate laughter.

“It’s not funny,” Petro said.

“In what way is this not completely ludicrous?” I’m afraid I was starting to feel a little like my mother at that point. Naked and guilty and vicious. Maybe I understood her better than I thought.

“I’m giving you valuable history, since you’re obviously old enough to know about it.”

“Al I wanted was for you guys to look at me and have your bal s turn blue. I wanted a little thril to tel my boyfriend. And look where I ended up.”

Petro petted me down from anger, stroking my hair and cheeks. Then he gently pul ed me sideways, and lifted my legs. Soon, I was lying on my back across the laps of al four men.

“Don’t worry on that account. We’re looking at you. And don’t think this is about your mother. You’re a hot piece of ass like she was, but you are also sweet, friendly, funny, smart. You’re just the perfect package. We’l dance at your wedding and toast your groom.”

“Thanks, Uncle P,” I said, a little mol ified.

“I don’t know what the fuck is going on,” Bil y chimed in, “but I do know you’re an amazing girl and I wish you were mine.”

“I’l fuck you,” Thor said, graciously.

My feet were in Stace’s lap, where he had started a foot massage. I felt him jiggle and glanced between my breasts at him. He was laughing silently.

That started me off.

Petro and Bil y weren’t far behind.

When everybody laughs, Thor laughs too. My head was in his lap, and the thick cable of his cock, half fil ed with blood, rested against my cheek like a sun-warmed snake. His laughter rubbed against my face and I started to get turned on again.
Sheesh! I am such an easy lay!

Dad returned and passed out beers. He had taken so long in the kitchen trying to prepare a plate of sliced sausage.

To dress it up, he added Greek yogurt and a dusting of Italian-flavored breadcrumbs. He is not a cook.

The second half of the footbal game was the strangest in my memory. I was naked and completely turned on. My bare breasts rol ed when the men moved me around. My nipples yearned toward their mouths like strange sea creatures, they grew tight when they were looked at. I floated like a pool toy on the shifting thighs and laps of the men. Their hands rested on me in innocent locations, and brushed against me in not so innocent locations. I didn’t blame them—so little of my body was innocent anymore. My sensitive spots were al over the place. My erogenous areas were as badly zoned as a New Jersey tunnel project.

Thor rested his fingers lightly on my neck, and even
that
caused my pussy to flood with warmth. He felt the pulse in my throat, and I let myself imagine this intimacy was similar to giving him head. A stretch, I know. I real y just wanted an excuse to imagine his python of a dick fil ing my throat and making it bulge out. Heck, I wanted to make them al lucky. They were petting me, patting me, stroking me, and I was purring like the fluffy cat in the bad guy’s lap.

But none of this showed outwardly. I gave strangled answers when people asked me questions. Dad was amused that I couldn’t hold my beer, and kept getting me more. More trips out of the room. The men shoveled down the slop Dad carried in, so that he would go out and prepare more. Then I would be alone with the men for a few minutes. They played me like a piano in their laps. I wanted them inside me. Then Dad would come back and smal talk would start again.