The Dirty Daughter’s Garage Tales 3

The Dirty Daughter’s Garage Tales, Ch. 3 of 5
by KwikSylvia

Marjorie – August 23, 1996

Before I masturbated with my daughter, I’d been a normal housewife watching The X-Files on a Friday night drinking Diet Coke as a treat.

Then? I’d went to ask Doug if we should go out looking for Rachael.

As I stood at the door of the detached garage, listening to the muffled voices inside, all I could really hear were choice words that gave me a complete picture of what was going on.

Daddy.

Finger.

Cunt.

Slutty.

Fuck.

Kiss me.

Through the smeared, filthy glass, I could see my husband, sweating, his right arm moving in what could only be one motion, that of a man frantically masturbating. And when he raised his fingers to sniff them, I knew who was below him.

I could hear her girlish whimpering and that voice, the voice of my daughter, telling her father she was about to come.

I backed away, feeling numb, because part of me knew this would be in my life. I’d thought of my own family in perverse ways growing up, and though I’d tried to cut off those fantasies, they would still fill my mind.

After college, I’d found mommies and daddies to play with, couples twice my page, when I worked as a secretary at The Hightower Garage. Then I met Doug. Then I had babies. And I figured if I didn’t masturbate, if I didn’t think about sucking my own father’s cock or licking my mommy’s sweet pussy, then I wouldn’t pass the sins to my children.

But standing in the backyard, on that Friday night two weeks earlier, I knew that wasn’t the case. I’d infected my daughter. As for my husband? In many ways, I’d neglected him. I’d hidden away my own sexuality from him and left him to jerk off to girlie magazines in his man cave, the detached garage where he worked on his motorcycle and did house projects.

I was numb for a bit, and then the rage filled me. That was why I slammed the screen door, to let those fucking perverts know I knew. I sat down in front of my TV show, now just static, and let the rage turn into something else.

It took three days of me play acting, trying to deny what I’d half-heard and half-seen, and then the rage became lust.

While my husband was at work, and my daughter and son at school (Nick, sweet Nick, I couldn’t bring him into this, I couldn’t, but how could I not?), I went to the detached garage, hot from the sun, and smelling like a man’s workshop – sawdust, oil, grease, dirt, and something else, some other forbidden smell underneath? Was it my imagination, or did I smell spit on skin? Or the rusty penny stench of a man’s semen. Or the salty sweet pubic hair stink of a hot, wet cunt.

I stood there for a minute, and then I started to pinch my nipples through my shirt and bra, my breath turning ragged. This was where my daughter molested my husband because I knew Doug well enough to know he would never have forced himself on his angel. No, it was her idea, and if anyone led him into temptation, it was Rachael.

I shoved my shirt up, shoved my sweats down, and fingered my clit, a raw fleshy spike sticking out from between my lips and legs. My pubic hair stank from my juices and I loved the smell, adding my own odor to the den of iniquity.

But like Rachael, when I was hot, I wanted to be naked. I stripped completely, my feet filthy on the dirty floor, squatted down, and fucked myself with two fingers while I rubbed my clit with two others. Sweat dripped from my tits, my nipples turned into rocks, and I came, like my sweet daughter came, and my husband came, together.

Panting, coming, licking my fingers and rubbing myself twice more to two orgasms that ripped the thoughts from my mind, I realized my lust had given way to sadness. I had been left out. And I needed to let both know that it was not okay for the mom to be left out.

A week later I had my “talk” with Rachael, in the garage, when I caught her there, going for the offending magazine, and while the rule was no touching, she’d laid her hot, sweaty cheek on my ass when I fingered my butthole, right in front of her, using not two fingers but three, like my asshole could take more than my big hairy cunt.

In my twenties, I’d tolerate butt stuff, but it was never my thing. Oh, how things can change in twenty years. I’d wanted her to see my sexuality, uncontrolled, violent, nasty.

She did. She had a front row seat.

I’d told her that things would have to go back to normal because we couldn’t keep this up. And we couldn’t let Nick find out though I knew Nick was jerking off, all the time. He’d use his old underwear to wipe his hands. Sometimes I’d want to smell it, but I stopped myself. That was before the detached garage drew me into its spell.

But no, I can’t talk about Nick. No, this is about Rachael.

I might’ve corrupted Nick, but I like to think I saved Rachael.

Friday night, my husband came home from work. Two weeks ago, I’d discovered him and Rachael together. A week ago, last Friday night, I had my own play time with our daughter.

Now, it was time to confront him.

When he came through the door, I had a beer ready for him on the kitchen table. He looked at it, then me, and grinned. “Oh, shit, this is going to be good. Did you buy a boat and not tell me? Believe me, I won’t be mad. You keep having beers ready for me, you can do pretty much whatever you want.”

I sipped my tea, liberally dosed with peppermint schnapps. No way could I talk about this with Doug completely sober. “Whatever I want? Do you know what I want, Doug?”

He scooped up his beer, drained it, and then went to the icebox for another. “Okay, I needed that one out of the way because I’m thinking it’s not about what you did, but what I did, and you’re pissed about it.”

“I was pissed,” I said, leaning against the sink, watching him. He was sweaty from working all day, and he’d not shaved since Wednesday. He had a dark scatter of stubble across his cheeks and I could smell him, so strong, so manly. If all went right, I’d get him to fuck me. If it all went to shit, he’d leave and we’d probably get divorced.

“I’m going to hate myself for asking this,” he said, “but what are you pissed off about?”

“Two weeks ago, I saw you with Rachael in the garage, and I know what you were doing.”

The bottle froze to his lips. His face went white.

“A week ago, I did the same thing with her,” I said.

That white face turned scarlet. “What the hell are you talking about?” he asked slowly.

I let out a long breath, but I couldn’t answer. I drained my tea, then grabbed the schnapps bottle out of the cupboard, and poured me another cup of straight mouthwash. “You and me, Doug, you and me have been together for twenty years. And I’ve kept stuff from you. A lot of stuff. Because I thought I could run away from it. But I have certain…perversions. Secrets. Dark secrets.”

“Jesus, Marjorie, what are you saying? I mean, you were never a prude in the bedroom, but you never seemed like you had secrets or perversions or whatever. You not only go to church, but you serve on the board. You volunteer a million hours for the PTA, you work hard at your business, I mean, you’re just a housewife—“

I cut him off, a little drunk, a lot angry. “You shut your fucking mouth, Douglas Jacob. Just a housewife? You see, that’s part of our problem. You thought I was just your little housewife, and that I would react to everything like some fucking mom all the time. Well, if you were a little more available, I might have let you in on some of my secrets. But you weren’t. I was just the wife, and you’d rather work on your fucking motorcycle than be with me.” Hot tears ran down my cheeks, but I wasn’t ashamed, and he knew, they weren’t tears of sorrow, but tears of rage.

Doug, I love that man. He took it all very patiently and logically. He let me rant and then, after a pause, said softly. “Okay, let’s back up. That was shitty for me to say. It’s like when people just assume I’m a middle-aged redneck dad. It’s insulting. I’m sorry. And you’re right, sometimes I run away from you, a lot of times I run, not just from you, but from the house, and the boredom. I work on the motorcycle, almost like it’s my ticket to freedom. But you and I have to talk about Rachael and what we’ve done. It’s pretty obvious we are both royally fucked up.”

I exhaled and swallowed hard. “I grew up fantasizing about having sex with everyone, and when I say everyone, I mean everyone. It started with my brother John, then Esther. I figured that was bad enough, but as you know, I slept in the attic room, above my parent’s bedroom. I’d hear them have sex sometimes, and instead of being disgusted, I’d get out of bed, go to the vent, and I’d listen. Oh, my parents were pretty tame, but I knew what they were doing. I’d have my ass in the hair, rubbing my clit, and my ear pressed against the floor vent. Suddenly all my fantasies were about my family.”

Doug turned a bit, just enough for me to glance down. He was getting hard. Seeing him getting turned on, I burst into sobs. “You don’t hate me?”

He set his beer down, crossed to me, and took me in his arms. He held me tight. “I don’t hate you, Marjorie. I love you. And I have to say, it turns me on. You never tried anything, not with your family or our kids, did you?”

“No,” I said, sniffling back the tears. “Never.”

“So it was just fantasies. I have fantasies too, about stuff I’d never do in real life. Like with Ed at work. Sometimes, I think of him that way.”

I leaned back to look my husband in the eyes. “Ed Bradley? Really?”

Doug shrugged and turned sheepish. “Yeah, I guess I like older men. With big bellies. But his long silver hair, you have to admit, is pretty sexy.”

I wanted to laugh, but I didn’t even grin. “It is. So with Rachael…”

“It was stupid,” he said. “Six months ago I found her in my garage, looking at my magazines. Oh, yeah, I had magazines.”

I rolled my eyes. “I’d have been surprised if you didn’t. You’re a guy.”

“Yeah,” he said. “Maybe too much of a guy. I caught her out there, and I lost it. She was so pretty, so young, and so ripe for it. And I didn’t push her into anything. I mean, she was jerking off, and so I figured I’d jerk off, and then she took control. Before I knew it, she’s begging me to look at her pussy and then begging me to come on her ass.”

Doug’s jaws clenched and he shook his head. “I hated myself for it. You have to believe me. And I threw away the magazines and swore off masturbating with a solemn oath, and I figured if I got on the straight and narrow, God would forgive me. Then Rachael shows up with another magazine and I lost control. I’m sorry, Marjorie. Jesus Christ, I’m sorry. I should’ve been stronger.”

I touched his face. “I tried to turn off my lust for years and failed. Maybe we have to figure out how to live with it. But we can’t let it ruin our lives, and we can’t let it ruin our children. I’ve been thinking, Rachael’s sexuality is like mine, this big dangerous thing. But if we can guide her and help her, there might be a reason for all this.”

Doug cocked his head and furrowed his brow at me. “Marjorie, I get me masturbating with her, but you? I can’t connect the dots there.”

I blushed. “It, well, I felt left out. And so I confronted her last week, and I wanted to see what you guys did. And honey, you remember Mr. and Mrs. Hightower who owned the garage where I was a secretary?”

“Uh, yeah, but I don’t…”

I shushed him. “Most every day, after we closed the garage, I’d go down on Phyllis Hightower and lick her until she came on my face. She had this domination thing, and liked to talk real dirty to me. Called me all sorts of names, and I didn’t mind, because she and Ernie were so good to me, so kind. Then I met you and broke it off. But she wasn’t the only one.”

“Secrets,” Doug mused. “You said secrets. So you were some kind of swinger?”

“Yeah,” she said. “It was the seventies, after all. It was during the big sexual revolution, and we had horny couples, and a lot of those horny couples couldn’t resist a twenty-year-old slut who wanted to fuck.”

“And you were that slut…” Doug said, his voice going husky.

“I was. And I want to be that again with you. I want to explore that side of me, now that the kids are grown, and now that I know you are a twisted horny pervert like me. I saw you sniff your finger. I saw you lick it. Did you taste our daughter’s pussy?”

“Her ass,” Doug said. He cleared his throat. “I fucked her ass with my finger, and I needed to see what she smelled like.”

“What her asshole smelled like,” I whispered. My pussy streamed a slippery mess between my legs. “I wanted to smell her pussy, but I never got the chance.”

Doug choked. “God, hearing you say that, I’m about to come in my pants.”

“I know,” I said. “It turns me on like nothing else. And believe me, Doug, you and I are going to go places, and do things, and dream of things, that will bring heaven raining down fire on us. But we’ll roast in hell together, you and me. But not Rachael and not Nick.”

“You’re right,” Doug said. “We have to stop.”

“But not yet,” I said each word forcefully. “Come with me.”

I grabbed Doug’s hand and led him out of the backdoor. He knew exactly where we were going. He used his key to unlock the garage door, and we went inside.

Into that heat. Into that smell. Into that naughtiness.

I dropped down to my knees and unzipped his pants. “She looked at your cock, didn’t she?” I asked.

Doug nodded.

“Did she want to suck on her Daddy’s cock?”

Another nod. “I think so.”

I pulled his pants and underwear down. His cock spring up, pre-cum leaking out of his pisshole. I kissed his thigh, then moved my face to his balls. I sniffed them, smelling his funk from his long day working.

“When we’re together,” I said, my lungs constricted and my cunt gushing, “I’m going to have her smell your balls. Rachael is going to be rubbing her cunt, and when she smells your sack, she’s going to come. Do you like watching your baby girl come?”

“Oh, fuck yes,” he said. “But I like watching you come as well. Remember when you used to let me watch you rub your pussy?”

I sat back on the dirty, cracked cement. Dust floated in the sunlight and heat from the greasy windows.

His cock continue to throb and leak.

I pushed my sweats off and spread my legs. Once open, the juices from my fuckhole dribbled down over my asshole. My clit begged me to stroke her. I was so fucking hot I wanted to die.

“I fucked my ass for her,” I said.

He grabbed his cock, but I knew, if he started stroking, he’d only get three pulls in before he spewed. “Don’t, Doug, don’t touch it yet. Listen.”

“Okay.” He stepped out of his pants and peeled off his shirt. Hic cock continued to jump.

I rubbed a hand down my tit, slimy with sweat, and pinched my nipple. “She has pink, thick nipples. Like I used to have, remember? Before the kids, my nipple were so puffy and pink.”

“You have great tits,” Doug said. “Bigger, more grown up.”

My finger found my clit. I started to rub it. “I wanted our daughter to suck on my tits while I fingered myself, while I rubbed my clit.”

“God, Marjorie, you’re such a whore.”

“I am, Doug. This is the real woman you married.” I lost my breath, my heart thundered in my chest, I was all sweat and stink. “I was standing up, and she was on her knees, and her face, so close to my pussy while I rubbed it.”

“I can’t help it, Marjorie. I have to jack off. I have to.” He gripped his cock and started to jerking it. Already, it was frothing white in his hands.

“I wanted her to suck on my clit, but no touching. That’s the rule. Oh, but her little lips would feel so good on me. Little Rachael eating her whore mother’s cunt, while you watch and jerk off. You’d have to fuck her, wouldn’t you?”

“In the ass,” he groaned. “She’d be sucking on your hairy cunt and her ass would be in the air, and that sweet pussy, that slutty sweet pussy, and I’d get my cock greased up with her cunt juices and then I’d stick into her asshole.”

“She has an ass thing, Doug. She wanted to see her mother’s ass!” And I was coming, my cunt pulsing and more juice slipping down between my ass cheeks. But it was the type of orgasm that begged for more. I couldn’t be finished. I couldn’t be finished until I tasted my man.

“Daddy,” I whimpered. “Daddy, can I suck your cock?”

He let go of his prick before he came. He hurried over and stuck his cock into my face. “Suck it, you fucking slut. Suck Daddy’s cock.”

I grabbed it and jammed it into my mouth. His sweat rained down on my face and shoulders, down onto my already soaked tits, my nipples never harder.

With one hand I gripped his cock, and with the other, I fucked my cunthole. Got my fingers nice and slick, and then swirled them around my clit.

Once, twice, three times. I let his cock fall out of my mouth. “Oh, Daddy, I’m coming. I tasted your cum, Daddy, your pre-cum. And your little girl is coming now. Watch me make my cunt come. Watch my cunt cum.” Over and over I said those words.

“I’m watching, baby,” Doug said. “I’m watching, princess. I’m watching your cunt come.”

Another orgasm ripped through me and I sucked on his cock while my pussy came, and I was my cunt coming, and I was my mouth making love to his prick, and I was sweat and breath and a pounding heart.

And then I felt the itch in my asshole.

I knew where I wanted my Daddy’s come.

I swiveled around. “You want Rachael’s asshole, Doug. Do you also want mine?”

“Are you going to let Daddy fuck your ass, princess?” he said, not leaving our little fantasy. I was his willing daughter, and he was my dirty, dirty daddy.

“Oh, get it wet first, Daddy,” I pleaded. “Get it all wet with my cunt juice and then you can fuck it.”

He stroked his cock once, and then let go. He’d say he was on a hair trigger. I knew him so well.

His big thick index finger rammed through the flowering drenched lips of my pussyhole. I screamed in pleasure.

And then even better, even fucking better, he eased his finger into my shitter. All greased up, all open, I was ready to get assfucked.

Plenty of guys had wanted to do it to me, even some women, but I’d said no. But this was my daddy. Doug had been the only one. Again, he finger-fucked my cunt then finger-fucked my ass, and I could feel my little pucker open up and want more.

My ass wanted more.

“Daddy, your cock now,” I whimpered in a little girl voice. “In my asshole, Daddy. Only you. No one else has ever fucked my butthole and no one else will.”

He shifted forward, and I heard him sniff.

“Are you smelling your fingers, Daddy?” I asked, dying for his cock in me.

“I am, princess. Your asshole smells so good. And tastes so good. And I can see you’re ready for me. You’re ready for Daddy to take your ass.”

My hand went to my clit, and once again, I had my shapely fat ass up in the air, my tits at my throat and my fingers rubbing my horny fucking cunt.

“Oh, Daddy, Rachael saw me like this. Your innocent little Rachael saw her fuck-mommy like this.”

“As she should,” he said. “Because her slut mommy has horny fuckholes. And Rachael is a horny little bitch that needs a good fucking.”

“Fuck me like you’ll fuck her!” I shrieked. The neighbors might hear, but I was beyond caring. And Doug was my daddy, but he was also a pervert who wanted to fuck his own daughter, and I was the disgusting mother who not only condoned his sickness, but I wanted to watch as well.

“Assfuck me like you’ll assfuck Rachael!”

He pushed his cock into my sphincter. I stretched and it was wonderful. I was so ready. I was so open and horny and willing.

And he went slow. His plum popped into my butt, and he stopped, while I shifted, to get used to it. But the depths of my shithole wanted more.

“More.”

He eased it in a little more.

“More.”

Another inch.

My spit leaked out of my mouth and splattered my chin. “More, Daddy. Rachael needs more of your daddy cock.”

He went slowly into my asshole until I felt the hair on his legs against the back of my thighs.

Then I worked my clit. So full, so fucked, and not just full and fucked, but assfucked.

“Daddy,” I said, “I’m going to come with your cock in my asshole. And then you know what?”

“What sweetie?” he asked in a growl.

“After I come, I want you to fuck me hard. Okay? Can you do that Daddy?”

“I can sweetie,” he said. “Like I’ll fuck your daughter, Marjorie. I’m going to fuck you like I’m going to fuck our horny slut of a teenage daughter.”

I pictured Rachael’s face, twisted with lust, her pink little asshole stuffed full of daddy dick, and her coming. Then I was coming.

My asshole squeezed Doug’s cock, deep in me, so deep in me.

“I’m coming on Daddy,” I murmured. “I’m using my asshole to come on Daddy.”

Doug grabbed my hair and I knew what was coming. I knew it.

He pulled back. I shrieked. His other hand latched onto a tit, and he pulled hard, and I knew he’d leave bruises.

“I’m going to use your asshole to come,” he growled.

He pulled his dick until his helmet almost left my pucker, and then shoved it back in. It hurt and it felt good and I knew I was going to burn in hell, but I knew I’d burn there with Doug.

“Use my asshole, Daddy!”

“Daddy is going to use your asshole to come.”

“Like Rachael. Like Rachael’s tight ass. Like Rachael’s tight asshole.”

He pounded me three more times and then he took my hips, heaved himself up, as sweat rained down on my back.

“Come in my ass, Daddy. Come so deep in my ass.”

“I am, Mommy,” he screamed. “Mommy needs her baby’s come in her ass.”

And then he wasn’t Doug anymore, he was Nick, and it was Nick fucking my ass and coming in me, a teenage boy with a constant hard-on and constant need to spew his semen on whoever would let him. Somehow, Doug had changed the script, and I was okay with it. Another hidden perversion came out of me, and I grabbed onto it. So taboo, so vile, but so right.

Doug pumped his cum into my butt and I felt it, felt every throb of his giant cock unloading into me.

“Mommy needs one more come, Nicky,” I said. “Don’t pull out Nick.”

“I won’t, Mommy,” my fantasy baby boy said.

My clit was slimy and it was hard to get a grip on it, but I started to rub it, one more time, as the cock in my ass started to deflate and what seemed like gallons of come dripped out of my shithole to run down my slit and onto my fingers.

“I love your asshole, Mommy,” the fantasy boy said in a voice kind of like my husband’s, but I didn’t want it to be Doug. I wanted it to be Nick. “I’ve jerked off so many nights, wanting to fuck you. I love your asshole. Nicky love’s Mommy’s asshole. Can you come for me Mommy? Can you come with Nicky’s little boy cock in your ass?”

“Oh, you nasty mother fucker,” I hissed. “You nasty mother fucker made a mess in Mommy’s asshole. You nasty fuck! Watch Mommy come. Watch your whore mother come!”

I came, gasping on the floor, my ass ripped open, my cunt dripping down, and the stink, of my armpits, my asshole, Doug’s semen, all of it filling the garage.

The orgasm seemed to last for days. It pushed Doug’s cock out of my ass and it made my tits tingle. Hell, it made my toes tingle, and I curled them up.

Doug waited, and when I was done, he grabbed me by the shoulder, and whirled me around.

He gripped his cock and at first, I thought he was going to force me to suck it. I was willing. I was willing to do anything for him.

But instead of jamming it into my mouth, he jerked off his cock, and I knew, my whole Mommy fantasy had ignited another fire in him. While stroked himself, I reached up and grabbed one of his nipples as I rubbed his balls.

“Come for Mommy,” I whispered. “Rachael came for mommy, and now I want you to come.”

He let out a gasp that turned into a whine. Then he came.

His cum shot out of his cock, onto my face, in my mouth, on my tits. It was quite a load, for being the second one of the night. I felt blessed by it. And never in my life, had I ever thought I could’ve shared this filthy, perverted, depraved part of myself with anyone.

But I did with Doug.

He sat down next to me. The windows had grown gray with dusk and the garage fell quiet—

that detached garage that seemed to draw out the worst in us.

Doug put his arm around me and my head fell on his strong chest. We sat there, in silence, until everything went dark and the crickets started, chirping as if summer would never end. The place smelled so good, as did my husband, next to me. So good, so right.

Finally, I spoke, because I knew Doug was afraid to. “I love Nick and Rachael, Doug. But you and I both know, incest is a taboo for a reason. We have to get them out of the house and with partners of their own so you and I can do this a whole lot more.”

“Do this a whole lot more?” Doug laughed. “It just might kill me.”

“But what a way to go, Douglas Jacob, what a way to go.”

“You have a plan for our kids?” he asked.

“Mommies always have plans. And they always do what’s best for their kids, but you have to promise me, nothing with Rachael. And we leave Nick out of this.”

“Sure, Marjorie,” my husband said. “Nick doesn’t need to know. And if Rachael comes out here, I’ll tell her to go talk to you.”

“Good boy,” I said, patting his thigh.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Chapter 4 >>

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5 Comments

5 thoughts on “The Dirty Daughter’s Garage Tales 3

  1. Oh just amazing Sylvia, I so need to fuck with my husband like this right now…you had me cumming multiple times reading that!!

  2. Thanks for all the comments!

    I didn’t really plan on this mommy/daddy section but it just kind of happened. At first it was coming to be just a transition scene where Marjorie and Doug come clean (er dirty) with each other. Then, before I knew it, they wound up back in the garage and it became a full chapter.

    I do get off on the idea of parents having nasty fantasies and talking about incest.

    Don’t worry, we have more chapters (if Rachael continues to be so awesome to publish my story). And they get hotter and hotter I think.

  3. Gotta hand it to Rachael’s dad. How he maintains any self-control at all with these two nasty sluts provoking him is beyond me. The man’s a saint.

  4. love all the perverted nasty talk! What a turn on. I was however surprised about the ending and am not sure what if anything is going to happen next?

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