Hello! My name is Jean. I am married, presently separated, with twin 5-year-old boys. I am a Facebook and media freak and, like many others, feel the need to tell everyone what I am doing, taking pictures and posting them. There are, however, some things that you have to keep secret and I am busting at the gut to tell someone... a very big secret... so here goes.
I can be found at my parent's house about three times a week in the late afternoon. It is a walk across the field that is about 250 yards. My boys enjoy the trip immensely as it could be among horses or cows on any given day. Yeap, it is a farm but my father is no longer able to work it and leases it out to other nearby farmers.
We often sit at the kitchen table, me, by the back door, on the right-hand side of the kitchen table, with my father sitting in the middle and very close to the right table leg so he is able to pry himself up. He is 67 and has muscle problems. I am a hefty girl and I usually sit with my legs wide, usually wearing thin cotton shorts are pants. If it was any other man other than my father it would be viewed as improper. I've never given any thought to peeing when he is in the shower.
My mother ranges in and out of the kitchen, usually preparing my father's dinner or something for the boys. Away from the kitchen she is playing or reading to the guys. Occasionally, she and I might walk outside for a bit with the boys, leaving my father to eat. Anyway, you get the gist.
Oddly, and for a long time I thought it was my imagination, I had the feeling my father was looking at my crotch whenever he thought he could do so unobserved. When he was trying to pry himself up from the table, it seemed he would stare down. Occasionally, if I was looking at my cell phone, remember I am an addict, I thought I would catch him looking between my legs.
I was determined to find out for certain and one evening I caught him red-handed, as I pretended to be looking at my phone. My mother was in the living room playing on the floor with the kids.
"Stop that!" I whispered a stern scolding.
"Stop what?" He questioned, but I could tell in his voice, and his smile, he knew he had been caught.
"You know what! Don't do it again." I warned him, pointing my finger.
"A man needs a little excitement in his old age." He chirped quietly leaning over toward me..
I continued giving him a stern look. I got up and went into the living room and sat for a while. After a few minutes, I returned to the kitchen and sat down. We talked as if nothing had transpired but I watched him closely. He knew I was watching him and he refrained from his shenanigans. There were long moments when I would just study him, pondering.
My mother and I had very few secrets of a sexual nature. I knew she was not a very sexual person and her and my father were at continuous odds when it came to sex. She knew that I considered my husband so-so in the bedroom, though our separation was more on his work ethic and anything else. I told her I was content and it was the truth... mostly. More than once mom had revealed to me that dad loved to give her oral pleasure and it was probably the only reason he got as much sex as he did, as she preferred tongue over penetration.
I knew dad was a sexual creature as he grabbed my mother's ass at every opportunity. It did not matter that others or I would be present. He would comment that he wanted the boys to be sure to know which side of the fence they were supposed to be on concerning sexual orientation. It was a joke between the three of us.
My husband and I had been separated, him, living with his parents, for about three months. We had talked and I was considering letting him come back home. To be truthful, I was horny as hell. I was used to regular sex. I had been masturbating at least every other day when the kids took their nap and quite often before I went to sleep.
It soon developed, now that dad knew he had been caught, there was no need to be so inconspicuous. Whenever he knew mom was out of sight he made no effort to hide the looks between my legs. I could've closed them, or, sit somewhere else, but my thighs are quite large and I had come to the conclusion that maybe dad did indeed need a little excitement in his life. I suppose I should have seen it coming, but one evening, after looking around to make sure mom was nowhere near, he reached across and put the back of his fingers against my crotch.
"What the hell!" I mastered a scathing reprimand. "Have you lost your blooming mind, old man!" He scrubbed my crotch twice before I could physically remove his hand. "Damn! Mom will kill us."
"Are you talking to me, dear." I heard mom shout from one of the bedrooms/turned toy room. "We are building a castle. Come look."
I smacked him hard on the shoulder as I hastened to leave the kitchen. When we were leaving, my mother was first out the door, the two boys in front of me, my father behind me. I felt his hand touch and then squeeze my right butt-cheek. I swatted his hand and gave him a stern look over my shoulder, causing him to only smile mischievously.
I had opened a can of worms and I knew it. But again, I figured my father needed a little excitement and I was kind of enjoying myself too. When the opportunity presented itself, I would occasionally butterfly my legs to tease him, smacking and redirecting his hand each time he made an attempt to backhand my crotch... hell... my pussy. Then, whenever my mother was in the bathroom, knowing there was not a chance for her to catch us, I began to allow him to squeeze my right thigh. I fought the urge until, the time, brazenly, I reached to touch, then squeeze, the visible bulge in his pants. I found it impressive as mom had told me.
One evening laying in bed lightly stroking my clit I came up with an idea to torment the old man even more. In the sensible light of day, I has discarded the idea until we were walking across the field and I realized I had dressed for the occasion without intentionally doing so. I wore very loose-legged, baggy cotton shorts, AND, I was panty-less. Before I reached their house, I had concluded, what the hell, if he opportunity presented itself, it would be fun and it would shock the hell out of the old man.
Sitting as usual, I had spoiled his attempts a couple of times to backhand my pussy. "Don't be like that." He had pleaded in a whisper each time. Then, when my mother went to the bathroom, knowing where the boys were, I went for it. I lifted my right leg while pulling the fabric clear to expose my bare vagina, whispering to him not to dare move. Using the right leg was important, as my father's body shielded what I was exposing, should the worst case scenario happen.
I am bushy between my legs and I doubt that dad got a good look at my pussy. My mound is covered with hair and my labia is framed in the stuff. Still, the sentiment was there and I could tell by his face that he was not only surprised, but happy beyond words. I let him look until I heard the toilet flush and I could see the bulge in his own cotton shorts had blossomed significantly. When he rubbed my ass as we went out the door that night, I did not swat his hand. Later, fingering my pussy, I wondered if the old man could still get an erection.
A few days later on our next visit I could tell by my father's expression he was not happy with my long pajama like cotton pants. Still, I let him backhand my crotch whenever I felt it was safe to do so.
"While your mother is working tomorrow, why don't you ask one of your friends to babysit so you can come over and help me do a few things I need to get done." He said, more or less openly, while he ate.
"What kind of things?" I queried.
Mom volunteered at the hospital for five hours every Wednesday. A half hour drive there, with the same coming home, meant a total of six hours. I had an inkling of what dad was thinking and telling him I would free-up the time would be the same as admitting I was willing to engage in incestuous play.
"You type better than I do." He answered, again with a mischievous smile on his face. "Maybe you can help straighten out my computer. You know things like that better and I do. It's been giving me trouble."
