Chapter 9: The Squirting Lesson
Scott growled, his fingers slick with Joy’s juices plunging deep into her tight hole, twisting and curling brutally. "Get your face right under her, Daddy," he snarled, "She’s gonna squirt, and you’re gonna take it all." Cliff obeyed instantly, pressing his mouth as close to Joy’s swollen cunt lips as he could, just as Scott’s knuckles twisted inside her, triggering a guttural scream ripped from Joy’s throat as her body convulsed violently, a hot torrent of her juices erupting in a thick, pulsing spray that drenched Cliff’s face, plastering his hair, filling his open mouth, and streaming down his neck. Scott leaned in, his tongue rasping roughly over Cliff’s stubbled cheek, lapping up the salty, musky flood, savouring every drop of Joy’s release mixed with Cliff’s sweat.
"Fuck yeah," Scott moaned against Cliff’s skin, his own cock throbbing painfully hard again, "Taste that, Daddy? Taste how fucking wrecked she is?" Cliff gasped, swallowing thickly, his eyes wide and stunned beneath the dripping mess, his own soft cock twitching against his thigh. Joy shuddered, collapsing back onto the rug, her chest heaving, a satisfied smirk playing on her lips as she watched Scott lick Cliff clean. "Good boys," she purred, her voice raw, "Now who’s gonna fill this messy hole next?" Scott’s hand shot out, gripping Cliff’s sticky hair, forcing his stepdad’s face back towards Joy’s gaping, glistening cunt. "I am," Scott commanded, his voice low and dangerous, "But with a little help. Show me how you eat that filthy pussy, Daddy." Cliff hesitated for only a heartbeat, the scent of Joy’s spent pussy thick in his nostrils, the taste of her release still coating his tongue; then, driven by a raw, undeniable hunger, he buried his face between her thighs, his tongue spearing deep into her stretched, cum-filled hole, lapping frantically at the mixed fluids Scott and he had deposited inside her earlier. Scott watched, mesmerized, one hand tightening in Cliff’s hair, guiding his stepdad’s mouth, grinding Cliff’s face harder against Joy’s sensitive flesh, the other enticing his own erection back. "Yeah," Scott hissed, "Lick it clean, you fucking cumslut. Get every drop." Cliff groaned into Joy’s pussy, the vibration making her arch and whimper, his tongue working furiously, slurping the thick cocktail of their combined seed and her slick juices.
Scott pulled Cliff's head back and plunged his revitalised cock deep into Joy's wetness. As the pulled out, he pushed Cliff's head back down, Cliff's tongue desperate to be part of this moment, even when it was on the bench. Joy reached down, tangling her fingers in Cliff’s wet hair, forcing him deeper. "Slurp it, Daddy," she gasped." Cliff obeyed, his cheeks hollowing as he sucked hard, then spilling them back over her swollen lips. Scott plunged back in, keeping Cliff's head close. Cliff couldn't keep his tongue still, flicking over Scott's cock and Joy's lips at random. Scott felt Cliff's finger, wet and sticky, rubbing at his hole. He stroked Cliff's hair as he pounded Joy's drenched cunt, giving Cliff time to feast between sets.
It wasn't long before Scott's balls were tightening. The slap of his cock, the flick of Cliff's tongue and the warmth of his finger, making Scott fly into a gooning haze of pleasure. Before he knew it he was grunting like a pig as he unloaded into Joy for the second time, his hole tightening on Cliff's finger, Cliff's mouth desperate to start devouring again. Scott sat back and his cock hit the floor with a light thud. Cliff immediately disappeared between Joy's thighs, pulling thick ropes of the milky fluid from her depths, swallowing greedily. Scott released Cliff’s hair, his own hand sliding down his aching, softening cock, stroking slowly as he watched his stepdad service Joy with desperate abandon. The sight – Cliff’s broad shoulders hunched, his face buried, the obscene wet sounds of his sucking – sent a fresh wave of heat crashing through Scott.
Scott watched Cliff’s head bob between Joy’s thighs, the desperate slurping sounds echoing in the thick air. His own spent cock twitched weakly against his thigh, slick with sweat and Joy’s juices. The raw hunger Cliff displayed, servicing Joy’s used cunt, ignited a fresh, sharp ache low in Scott’s belly.
"Fucking love watching you suck that slop outta her, Daddy," Scott rasped, his voice rough. He traced a lazy finger over his own sensitive nipple, the touch electric. Cliff groaned in response, his tongue digging deeper, pulling another thick strand of Scott’s cum mixed with Joy’s slick onto his chin.
Joy arched her back, grinding her hips against Cliff’s face. "Yeah, Daddy," she gasped, her fingers tightening in his hair. "Get it all. Every fucking drop." Her eyes locked with Scott’s, dark and knowing. "Who's the greediest cum pig now, hmm?"
Scott’s gaze drifted lower, past Cliff’s straining shoulders. His eyes landed on Cliff’s asshole, puckered and dark against the pale skin of his cheeks. Cliff’s heavy balls swung defiantly between his spread thighs, his dick, still thick and flushed, hung engorged beneath them. The sight was unexpectedly potent, pulling Scott’s focus entirely.
Cliffs hands were suddenly on his ass, as if knowing Scott was watching. He rubbed at the hairy mounds, pulling his cheeks wide apart, showing off his tight pucker. "Fuck," Cliff mumbled, his voice muffled against Joy’s thigh. He pushed back harder, presenting himself. Scott rubbed the hairy mounds roughly, the coarse texture against his palms. Then, deliberately, he pressed the pad of his thumb against Cliff’s exposed hole, rubbing slow, firm circles.
Cliff shuddered, a low groan vibrating against Joy’s flesh. Scott’s other hand slid down, wrapping around Cliff’s thick shaft. He stroked it slowly, feeling it swell rapidly back to hardness in his grip. "Just helping you out, bro," Scott murmured, his voice thick. His thumb pressed harder, circling Cliff’s hole insistently. "Helping my Daddy."
Cliff lifted his head from Joy’s cunt, his lips slick and chin dripping. He knelt up fully, turning towards Scott. His eyes were glazed, pupils blown wide. "Yeah," Cliff breathed, leaning back towards him, making Scott drop his dick. "You're a good son, helping out your old daddy." He closed the distance, his mouth crashing onto Scott’s in a messy, urgent kiss tasting sharply of Joy’s pussy and Scott’s own cum. "Thanks," Cliff gasped against Scott’s lips.
Scott kissed him back fiercely, tongue plunging deep, tasting the filthy cocktail on Cliff’s lips. His thumb kept rubbing, pressing insistently against Cliff’s tight ring. Joy watched, her fingers idly tracing her own wet slit, a satisfied smirk playing on her lips. "Get inside me, Cliff," she commanded, spreading her legs wider. "Now."
Cliff broke the kiss, panting. He scrambled towards Joy, his cock slick from Scott’s hand, jutting thickly. He plunged into her wetness without preamble, burying himself to the hilt in one hard thrust. Joy cried out, wrapping her legs around his waist. "Fuck! Yes! Pound that messy hole!"
Cliff’s rhythm was frantic, desperate. He drove into her, his balls slapping against her ass, his breath coming in ragged gasps. The sight of Scott’s thumb still pressed against his hole, rubbing, seemed to fuel him. "Oh god," Cliff groaned, his thrusts becoming jerky, uncontrolled. "Fuck... Scott... I’m..."
He came explosively inside Joy after only a dozen frantic pumps, his body shuddering violently. A guttural roar tore from his throat as he emptied himself, collapsing onto her chest moments later, spent and trembling. Joy laughed breathlessly, running her hands over his sweaty back.
Cliff rolled off her and up onto the couch cushions, utterly drained. He fumbled for the half-smoked joint resting in an ashtray on the floor, his fingers shaking slightly. He sparked it, inhaling deeply, the smoke curling around his flushed face. His eyes, heavy-lidded, drifted lazily towards Scott.
Scott watched Cliff sprawl, smoking, then turned his attention to Joy’s gaping, cum-leaking cunt. He leaned forward, his tongue extending deliberately. He began slowly cleaning Cliff’s mess from her folds, his movements deliberate, almost reverent. As he licked, his free hand drifted up to his own chest, fingers pinching and rolling his nipples, hard. He watched Cliff watching him, the joint glowing faintly in the dimming light.
Scott traced Cliff’s spent cum from Joy’s folds with slow, deliberate sweeps of his tongue. Each lick tasted of salt, spent lust, and something faintly bitter underneath. He kept his gaze locked on Cliff’s heavy-lidded eyes, the joint’s ember flaring as Cliff inhaled deeply, smoke curling around his slack, satisfied face.
The air hung thick with sex, sweat, and weed. Joy sighed, a long, contented sound, arching her hips slightly into Scott’s ministrations. "That feels good, baby," she murmured, her fingers tangling loosely in his hair, not guiding, just resting. "Clean mommy up nice." Scott’s own cock gave a feeble twitch against his thigh, utterly drained but stirred by the possessiveness in her tone and Cliff’s unwavering stare.
Cliff exhaled a plume of smoke, his free hand trembling slightly as he extended the joint towards Scott. "Here," he rasped, his voice raw. "Finish it." Scott pulled his mouth from Joy’s slick heat, leaving her glistening, and took the joint. He sucked hard, the hot smoke searing his lungs, the familiar haze washing over the lingering animal intensity.
He passed the roach to Joy, who took a lazy drag before stubbing it out. A heavy, easy silence settled over them, broken only by their slowing breaths. The adrenaline ebbed, leaving bruised muscles and hollow exhaustion. Scott slumped back onto the rug, his head resting near Cliff’s discarded t-shirt. Joy stretched languidly on the couch cushions, one leg still hooked over the back.
"Ngh," Cliff grunted, shifting his weight. "Fuckin' starving." The words hung in the air, simple and undeniable. The thought of greasy, cheesy pizza slammed into Scott’s consciousness with visceral urgency. His stomach growled loudly, echoing Cliff’s sentiment.
"Me too," Joy agreed, sitting up slightly, wincing as dried fluids pulled at her skin. "Like, desperately." She ran a hand over her flat belly. "I could eat a whole fucking horse. Or a cow. Covered in cheese."
Cliff pushed himself up onto an elbow, fumbling for his phone on the cluttered coffee table amidst empty beer cans. "Got you," he mumbled, squinting at the screen, his movements sluggish. He found the number, hit dial. "Yeah, Angelo? Cliff. Need my usual… yeah, the double pepperoni, meat-lovers, and the vegetarian, extra garlic dip, yeah, three tubs… fries, onion rings, mozzarella sticks… and that big tub of chocolate ice cream. Twenty minutes? Perfect."
He ended the call, dropping the phone onto his bare chest with a thud. "Sorted." A collective sigh of relief went through the room. The promise of food spurred them into sluggish motion. Scott grabbed some towels he'd stashed earlier, handing one to Joy. She wiped meticulously between her legs, the dense terrycloth coming away thick and streaked. He cleaned himself off roughly, the scent of sex still clinging stubbornly.
Cliff hauled himself off the couch, groaning. "Shower," he declared, padding towards the hallway bathroom, his ass still marked faintly by Scott’s earlier attention. Scott gathered the discarded beer cans, clinking them into a recycling bag. Joy pulled her discarded skirt back on, not bothering with underwear, and started tidying the scattered cushions.
The domesticity felt jarring, surreal, after the raw frenzy. Scott's mind was catching on something. The word hung unspoken in the air, heavy as the scent of weed. He’d called Cliff ‘Daddy’.
He felt Joy’s gaze on him. She perched on the arm of the couch, watching him clean. "Earlier," she said softly, her voice gentle, devoid of its usual teasing edge. "You called him ‘Daddy’. When you told him to get under me." She tilted her head. "That was new, right? Felt… intense."
Scott froze, the damp cloth still in his hand. He stared at the stain, heat rising up his neck. "Yeah," he mumbled, the word thick. "It's Just... slipped out a few times since..." He finally looked up, meeting her concerned eyes. "It felt right. In the moment." He swallowed. "Is that… fucked up?"
Joy slid down onto the couch cushion proper, patting the space beside her. "Sit." He did, perching awkwardly. She reached out, her hand surprisingly warm on his bare forearm. "Grief does weird shit, Scott. Loss. Need." She squeezed gently. "You called him what you needed to call him. Does it feel wrong now?"
He thought about Cliff’s obedience under Joy, his face buried in her release, then Cliff’s mouth on his, desperate and tasting of them both. "No," Scott admitted, the word a low exhale. "It felt… real." He glanced towards the hallway where the shower was running. "Dunno what he thinks."
"He came when you had your thumb on his asshole," Joy stated bluntly, a small, knowing smile playing on her lips. "Pretty sure he’s not objecting to anything right now." The doorbell rang, a sharp electronic chime cutting through the tension. "Saved by pizza," Joy grinned, hopping up and grabbing some sweatpants. "Talk later. Food now."
They descended on the delivery like locusts. Cardboard boxes were ripped open, releasing clouds of steam and heavenly grease. No plates, just dive in. Scott grabbed a slice of double pepperoni, the molten cheese stretching, burning his fingers as he shoved it into his mouth. He groaned, the salty, fatty goodness hitting his starved system like a drug.
"Fuck yes," Cliff mumbled around a mouthful of meat-lovers, sauce smeared on his freshly washed chin. He dug into a tub of garlic dip with a mozzarella stick. Joy piled onion rings onto her vegetarian slice, drizzling ranch dressing over everything.
They ate in focused silence for a few minutes, the only sounds chewing, satisfied sighs, and the crinkle of cardboard. The frantic energy of before was replaced by a warm, sated exhaustion. Scott watched Cliff lick garlic dip off his thumb, the simple act unexpectedly intimate. Daddy. The word echoed in his head, not jarring anymore, just… present. A new layer settling onto the strange, raw reality of their lives. He reached for another slice, the future a hazy, greasy, strangely hopeful unknown.