A Quiet Backyard

All characters in the story are above the age of eighteen.

It was a Sunday afternoon and I was hoping for a couple of quiet hours in the backyard. On that happy spot you are protected both from the noisiness of the street and the nosiness of the neighbors. I folded out my resting chair, one of those things with hanging cloth on a wooden frame. It can collapse quite easily, like something in a movie farce, and when the kids were younger they enjoyed making it do that, while I was sitting in it. So I learned to place the chair in a corner, where they could not sneak up behind me and I still do that today.

Now I was alone, I leaned back and I started to read. Being a proofreader you might think that I get tired of reading, but I only get tired of the reading the sort of trash they send to me (these new writers, they have no sense of style). I was going to relax with a good book, a novel by Balzac (yes, I consider reading Balzac relaxing and enjoyable). I had not been reading for more than eleven minutes when the backdoor was flung open and my daughter Jill stepped out. She was dressed in bikini, small shorts, sunglasses and nothing else. In one hand she held a large towel and a tube of lotion.

“Hi, dad!”

“Hi.”

“I wanted a bit of sunshine. Do you mind?”

“Not if you can be quiet.”

“Well, I might sizzle if the sun roasts me, but then I always sizzle, being as hot as I am.”

“Sizzle quietly.”

Jill put the towel on the grass, sat down and removed the bikini.

“Dad, can you put lotion on my back?”

“No.”

“Why not?”

“Because it will make my hands greasy and this is a book from the public library.”

“You are such a bore.”

She greased herself and lay down on her back. I continued with the experiences of Lucien. After circa eight minutes she rolled onto her belly. She pushed the sunglasses into her blonde hair and looked on the book.

“Lost illusions…What is it about?”

“About losing illusions.”

“Oh, a lot of fucking?”

“No.”

“What is happening?”

“Well, the main character has not left Angouleme yet.”

“Angouleme? Is that in Louisiana?”

“No, in France.”

“What do you think will happen?”

“I know what happens. I have read it before.”

“You read it before? Then why are you reading it again?”

“Because it is a good book.”

“Better than me?”

“I cannot compare you to Balzac.”

“Was he that good-looking?”

“He was a rather short and rotund man with a moustache.”

“So that is your type? I had no idea…”

I sighed despairingly and looked up at my smiling daughter.

“Tell me, Jill, why do bother about sunbathing? You never get a tan. All you get is a sort of golden hue to your milkyness.”

“Oh, so you have noticed that?”

“I notice many things concerning you.”

“Like how sexy I look with your cock in my mouth?”

“Like how annoying you can be. Apparently I will be forced to go away.”

“Please, dad, don’t go. You can read later. The book will not disappear. I can read for you afterwards. Sitting on your lap. Or stretched out across it so you can spank me when I pronounce the French names wrong.”

“You can be really persuasive…”

“When I really want something. What do you say, dad?”

She crawled between my legs and grinded her face against my crotch.

“Jill…”

“Come on, daddy…Don’t be such a bore…”

I could feel her warm mouth through my pants. With another despairing sigh I put the book aside.

“Allright, once again you will get what you want.”

“Yay!”

“One condition, I decide the position.”

“Which?”

“You will ride me. If you want it you must work for it.”

“Okay.”

She quickly peeled of her shorts. I pulled down my pants and placed myself on the towel. I must admit she had gotten me excited. And she noticed, since it was so obvious.

“Oh, dad…You are not only a bore, you are a hypocrite as well…Your cock is more honest…”

She gave it a long lick. I groaned. Successfully I controlled a strong impulse to grip her hair and make her take me in her throat.

“This is your show, darling.”

“And my hips will dance on you, daddy.”

She climbed atop of me, holding her pussy over my cock. Her face was a bit flushed.

“Are you ready, dad?”

“Are you ready, Jill? On the pill, I mean.”

“Of course. Don’t be silly.”

“You are the silly one. You cannot even let me…”

She pushed down. Slowly. I had to claw the ground to stop myself from making her go faster. She put her hands on my chest and scratched a little.

“You should be pleased, dad…Not all daughters are prepared to do this for their fathers.”

“I think many of them would if it could give them a higher allowance. Besides, you are not doing this for me. You are doing it for yourself.”

“Don’t be mean…I love when you enjoy our games.”

She started to fuck me. When she talked about dancing with her hips she was not exaggerating. Jill is athletic. She rolled her lower body, pulled me in, pushed me out. And I was pulling the grass.

“Could you go a bit faster?” I moaned, “I want to return to my book.”

Jill grinned down at me.

“Well, if you want it to go faster, you must make me go faster.”

That broke my self-restraint. I gripped her ass hard and thrusted into her. Jill squealed with joy and bounced wildly, like someone in a rodeo show. I raised myself up enough to nibble her breasts. She caressed my face. And she orgasmed. She rolled of me before I did. I was too breathless to complain.

“Thanks, dad. You should listen more to your little girl.”

I staggered to my feet, pulled up my pants and tried to pull myself together.

“Now, young missy, can you be kind enough to let your father read in peace?”

“Don’t you want…”

“I want to read.”

“Allright.”

She seemed a little bit offended. I sank down into the chair and she gathered her stuff and went back into the house. I picked up the book, found the right place after a while, for some reason I had difficulties to focus, and restarted my reading. I had not gotten through more than one and a half page before I heard several feet on the gravel path next to the house.

“Hi, dad.”

“Hello, mister Moorland.”

It was my loutish and reddish son Freddy together with his pal Luke, a polite lad with brown hair and blue eyes, somewhat less bulky that Freddy. They were wearing sandals, shorts and t-shirts with silly slogans.

“Doing something?” Freddy asked.

“Yes. I am engaged in an exasperating quest to find blissful solitude.”

“I mean, apart from that.”

“I am reading.”

“Could you take a break?”

“I could, but should I?”

“We need your help. Or rather, Luke need your help.”

If it was Freddy that wanted my help I would have been suspicious. If it was Luke that wanted help it might actually be important. I lowered the book and tried to look benign and understanding.

“What is the problem, Luke?”

“It is his technique, dad”, answered Freddy.

“Yeah, it is”, agreed Luke.

“Technique? Is this a question of sport? Why do you not talk with your coach?”

“Well…It is not about sport”, said Freddy.

“What is it about then?”

“Let’s show him, Luke.”

With some signs of nervousness Luke kneeled on the ground. Freddy pushed down his shorts. He already had an erection. And Luke took it into his mouth. I should have known. Freddy is Freddy. Luke sucked cautiously. Freddy thrust his hips forward and held Luke’s head in place.

“See, dad? He is too passive. He must learn to be more assertive.”

“As long as he avoids using his teeth you have no right to complain.”

“Dad, I want to help him. Luke likes boys. He want to be able to please them.”

Freddy allowed Luke to speak.

“Yeah, that is right, mister Moorland”, the boy gasped.

“I thought that he would understand better if I show him”, Freddy said and pulled up his shorts.

“Show? On him?”

“No. He sees better if I do it on you.”

“Now, listen Freddy…”

“You can read while I do it. Come here, Luke.”

In the next moment both of them was kneeling next to me. Freddy touched my thighs.

“It is with boys like with girls, Luke. It goes smoother if you warm them up first. So, you stroke them here…And here…”

A hand cupped around my bulge. I could not stop a little groan. Freddy smiled, so smug.

“Of course, it does not take much to get my dad hard…You love your little boy, don’t you, daddy?”

I refused to answer that. As another taunt Freddy ripped down my pants and gripped my cock. Pumped it.

“It is always good to get the guy as hard as possible before you take him in the mouth…You can also play with his sac…Like this…”

I could not think about Balzac when Freddy did that to my balls.

“And then you take him…Make it deep and wet…The guy might want your ass next…Look.”

Freddy did what he said, took me deep and wet. He gargled around me and continued to caress my balls. My whole body stirred. Freddy let go of my cock with a loud pop.

“There…That is how it is done…Impress the guy…Try, Luke.”

Luke swallowed me. He was not as aggressive as Freddy, but clearly eager. He sucked me for a while. My hands, still holding the book, was shaking.

“Is that better, Freddy?”

“Yeah! Very good.”

“Thanks.”

“And thank you, dad. We do not need more help. Right now, anyway. And we don’t want you to get jizz on that book.”

And they left the same way they had arrived. I put the book aside and closed my eyes. I was going to be calm. I was going to read the book. I was…

“Oh, you poor man.”

I opened my eyes. My wife Michelle was standing there, dressed in tight jeans and a snug blouse, really flattering her full shapes.

“I witnessed everything through an upstairs window. Such nasty children we have raised…”

“Well…They are gone…I can read, finally.”

“No, you can’t.”

“Why?”

“Because watching my family made me horny.”

She bended down and wrapped a hand around my cock, possessively. Started to stroke. My hips lifted from the chair.

“Michelle…Please….I want to read…”

“Let’s see…Balzac, Lost illusions…We read that together once, didn’t we?”

“Possibly…”

“Remind me. What is it about?”

“Ah…A young man…”

“Young and virile?”

“He is a poet…and…and…”

“And what?”

“He knows this publisher…Ah…And goes to Paris…”

“The publisher?”

“No, the poet…And…he meets all sorts of people…journalists…an actress…”

“Does he go to bed with her?”

“Yes…But…”

“But what?”