Temptation's Consequence

Author's Note: This is the seventh part of a longer story. I have done my best to make this and each of its sister stories stand alone.

They were written in this order:

Conquest

,

Contempt

,

Constant

,

Contrition

,

Confidence

,

Contrast

, and now

Consequence.

*

Anne Marie was the receptionist at my job.

And everyone had fucked her.

Everybody had put it right in her prissy puny pussy except for me.

The girl was in her early twenties and she had long dark hair. The hair went all the way down to the upside of her ass. She wore it that way and she flaunted it. She also flaunted her little boy body. Her breasts were tiny, but suited her little form. Her ass was tiny and barely plausible beneath the dresses and suit pants she wore.

Anne Marie wore glasses. Those glasses might have been worn to hide the fact that she had David Bowie eyes --each was a separate color from the other. She had a blue eye. She had a green eye. I couldn't tell you which was which (she was never my obsession).

She was a big flirt. Her flirting had bagged her most of the men in the office, but she had a really strange quirk. She would never fuck the same guy twice. Every man that scored with her was given the cold shoulder and when these poor sons of bitches tried to talk to her about it she just turned shy.

Of course Zachary, who was my boss, had done her more than once.

But I didn't know that the day she came to me.

The day she decided it was my cock she wanted.

At the time, my daughter Yvette was frustrating me to no end. She stayed out too late. She was probably smoking crack. My daughter was treating my home like a youth hostel. She brought over men, women, and she never paid rent. The stress of my daughter had led to friction with my wife.

I like to think those were the reasons I was so susceptible to that thinly drawn pouting mouth of Anne Marie's.

That day, the receptionist wore a brown skirt and a white blouse. And she had the glasses. Up until that day, we'd flirted a little near the vending machines. The flirting had always seemed very superficial and of no consequence.

There was no reason for me to believe that day would be any different.

"What do you plan to do?" I said to Anne Marie as I stirred my coffee.

"What do you mean?"

"Phones. You answer phones, transfer calls, you log numbers," I sip my coffee and realized I had to grab most of her jobs out of the air. "Are you going to school? Are you going to do? What will you be when you grow up, Anne Marie?"

"Not going to school. Everybody makes such a big deal about going to school and making something of yourself. I don't have a plan."

Ordinarily at this point I would have complimented her and we'd each go our separate ways. The compliment would be something about her tight, tiny breasts or the length of her hair. But I did it differently that day. I said something else.

"There has to be something you want to do --something you're good at?"

"I'm only good at sucking dick." She said with a smirk.

"Wow," was all I could manage.

"I'm sure you've heard it from the other guys?" She said with a coy smile. And it was true. I had heard. I'd heard all of it. Anne Marie was our office slut. But she had the reputation of not doing anybody more than one time. There were a few broken hearts in the office.

"No. Not really. I don't go for locker room talk," I lied.

"Sounds like you're a non-believer... what are you doing for lunch today?"

And that was the shocker. That was the moment where my heart skipped. That was the moment where I saw Anne Marie as more than the twenty-year old skinny Minnie. I knew her reputation. I realized right then that I was jealous that I'd never been asked and more so, that I wasn't the first she'd asked.

This was also the juncture where I should have mentioned my wife Angela.

But I didn't.

Back at my cubicle, I just watched the clock. I didn't think about Angela at her job and I didn't think about our daughter. I just waited for the clock to make a lunch hour allowance. I was excited by the prospect of becoming a notch on her headboard. I wanted to be sucked and fondled by someone so young. I thought I deserved it because I had paid so much of my life to the marriage and the responsibility. I believed I was owed a little bit of free time.

And it was perfect because Anne Marie wasn't one for affairs. She fucked. She sucked. She left. That's what so many of the men around the office said. Some were fascinated by it. Some thought that made her a bitch. I thought that made her brilliant.

I thought about the sandwich that was in my lunch box. I giggled to myself that I'd have to eat it later, in a hurry. I had lunch plans. I couldn't wait to get sucked off by the office slut. I even took pride in the fact that I had a large dick and could probably please her better than anyone else in the office.

Anne Marie stopped by my desk about a half-hour before lunch.

She didn't say anything; she just set a finger in her mouth and dropped a motel room key on my desk. And then she walked away. She had given the go ahead. Full throttle, I was going to have sex outside of my marriage. And I couldn't wait.

The motel room was one of those crappy ones where the doorway opens to the parking lot. There was a window there with a really ugly orange curtain dangling on the other side of the glass. I knocked on the door.

Anne Marie opened the door wide to invite me in.

"So, lunch?" I joked. "I have a ham sandwich."

"I'm a vegetarian."

I only smiled and shut the door behind me. I thought of an old saying

she don't like meat, but she sure likes the bone.

"It smells like cigarettes in here," she said and rolled her eyes. "I hate that smell." She was right. This room had the scent of stale smoke. That smell always hit me even years after I'd quit.

The receptionist's blouse was unbuttoned. Her barely-tits were covered on each side by the cotton. She had no bra on. Prada made her glasses. I could see the label as I stood so closely to her.

She leaned up onto her tiptoes and rubbed her cheek against mine. I could smell her skin ripe with one of those fruity lotions. The scent was a lot cheaper than my wife's. It was a perfumed sort that had been mixed with a hint of glitter. Her breath smelled like chewing gum.

My hands went to her waist beneath the blouse. Our lips crashed together. Anne Marie's front teeth pulled on my upper lip as her kiss fell into a lazy gnaw. The door was slammed shut behind us and I lifted her up off of the ground. I felt her legs go around my hips and her brown skirt lifted to expose her milky white thighs.

We fell back on the bed and her hands went right to my pants. I felt her hands rubbing my cock awake through my slacks. The fabric of my boxer shorts got caught up in her grip as she squeezed and smoothed her palms over me. She leaned back to look at my face. I choked a smile at her and she gave a giggle.

Her eyes rolled down toward her hands and I felt my zipper pop open. With the sound of the zipper giving out, she licked her lips. Her fingers handled the full length of my barely hard cock and her eyes widened as she examined its size. "Not even hard yet," she mumbled up at me.

"Well, we're just getting started," I teased.

"No," she corrected me. "It's huge when its

not

hard."

My cheeks must've blushed a little because something about my face made her smile widen. Her hands went around my ass and they both forced my pants downward. I was suddenly aware of how out of shape and hairy my ass was.

Her dainty hands pushed me away from the bed. I stood up for balance and my pants fell down to my knees. Anne Marie got on her knees in front of me and her hands went to remove her glasses.

"Leave them," I said gruffly. I liked her glasses.

She put both of her hands on my long and thick cock. She opened her mouth and I felt her nose sigh on the cock's head. Her tongue came out and lapped around the knob of it.

I inhaled sharply and embraced adultery. My hands went to the back of her head and I gripped her long hair. I could feel my dong in her mouth getting thicker as she twirled her tongue around it.

Heavy against her breath, the head of my cock slipped beneath her tongue. I felt her tongue strain and lick just one side. Her hands held my cock without motion or flair. The tongue clicked against me and I pulled her hair upward.

She raised herself off of my cock and looked up at me. Her tone was a touch too nonchalant when she said, "try not to screw up my hair."

The humidity of her open mouth returned to my knob and her tongue lapped around it as I released her hair. Her tongue clicked around the very tip of my shaft at her same uninspired rate.

I thought about my wife Angela. My wife gave better head.

It was in that moment that I realized that Anne Marie was a liar.

She wasn't good at sucking dick.

In fact, she blew.

Of course I had no idea at the time what a really good blowjob was. My great blowjob wouldn't come until days later and it would come from my daughter, Yvette.

After Yvette's blowjob, I would swear allegiance to her.

Perhaps my own repeated moral failings shattered the allegiance. My daughter was now my enemy. If I ever doubted that, she had just proven it.

A police officer was standing next to me and he spoke in tongues. My daughter was in my lap. We had been fucking while driving. We had been doing things reserved for the letters sections of adult magazines.

And now there was a consequence.

I thought about the blowjob that had started it all. I thought about my limp prick in my own daughter's pussy. I thought about how my life had just been completely torn away from me. It was torture to weigh so much at once because I couldn't even hear what I was thinking.

My daughter's laughter was louder.

Anne Marie had gotten me

just

hard enough to fuck her. It seemed that most of my erection had come from sexual attraction or wanton need. I was just excited to have another girl, if only once.

The bad sex had led to blackmail. Anne Marie had somebody taking pictures through the window. The only person I could think of who might have helped her would have been Zachary, my boss. The final end of the blackmail was unknown to me and I believed they didn't even know what they were going to do with the pictures.

That was a moot point though, because Yvette got all of the material out of their hands. Once she'd conquered me sexually, she'd gone after both of them. They followed her orders and gave the photographs to me.

Yvette was my daughter's name. It was never picked out of the air. It was French. She was the archer. The name I wanted because I knew she had my heart.

I remembered a time when I'd followed my daughter's orders.

Our sex life was fantastic. As amazing as the sex was, however, it always teetered on a disastrous series of conditions.

Never deny her. Always defend her. Always respect her.

I kept up my end of the bargain for a good while, but then she drove me so crazy that I had sex with my wife Angela. Sex outside of my relationship with Yvette was strictly forbidden.

Yvette was permitted to fuck anything that moved --

another

one of her conditions.

Once she'd caught me with Angela, all I could do was wait and see what the punishment might be. She'd teased me. She'd engaged me in a series of sexual events that confused me. Her lustful, seemingly insatiable acts had put me right where she wanted me. When Yvette released her ripcord of vengeance on me, it happened while she fucked me in my moving car.

The policeman was here.

His name was Officer Reyes. She pointed that out as she laughed at me.

"Would you please move to the passenger's side, miss?" Officer Reyes said. He was broad-shouldered. He was obviously a very well spoken Mexican-American police officer.

Yvette complied, still laughing. I felt my cock slip out of her dripping wet pussy. There was no erection in sight. Being busted seemed to have that affect on my little man.

"Remove the vegetable from your mouth, sir and step out of the car."

My mouth was stretched over a cucumber. My daughter put the cucumber there after she'd masturbated with it right in front of my face. It had been sexy at the time. Now it was doing even more to embarrass me. Had she planned this entire thing?

I pulled the cucumber out of my mouth and had no place to set it.

"Just put it on the dashboard, mister and come on out of the van."

I did as I was told. I glimpsed my daughter and she pointed her finger at me like a gun. She was still laughing. I put my hands on the hood of my mini-van, remembered the payment was due the following Thursday, and stared at my fingers. Not only was I engaged in sex when the officer had pulled me over, I was engaged in sex with my daughter. And she'd

told him our relationship

.

I didn't know if incest came with additional charges.

I hadn't looked into the laws. It could have been illegal everywhere, for all I knew.

I never expected this matter to become public.

I had never weighed a single consequence outside of my daughter's imagination.

This is what she meant when she told me she would destroy me. She meant that she would make our relationship criminal. She was going to turn my life into the sort of back page fodder that's posted over urinals in sports bars across the country. This is how Angela, my wife, would find out --through the legal process, probably through the media process. My mind was spinning. I saw myself being embarrassed into making television appearances. Being ridiculed by everyone who knew me and by total strangers.

That guy

fucked

his own daughter. Pervert.

I shook with the anxiety. This was me and my life ruined.

"I need to see some identification," the cop said. I reached slowly behind myself for my wallet. I held it out for him. He spoke into the window.

"Young lady?" The officer said, "Put your pants on."

"I don't have any," Yvette laughed from the passenger seat.

"Put your hands on the dashboard then," the officer barked.

"He didn't get me off," Yvette called out to him. She hadn't complied with his order. She leaned against the passenger door; legs spread, and held her hands up. She was plainly flashing him her shaved pussy.

"Excuse me, miss?"

"My daddy? He didn't get me off. Weird because he usually does."

"Are you high, miss?"

"Oh, officer, I'm totally spun. Been fucking for hours... can fuck for more..."

Officer Reyes was obviously distracted as he glanced between Yvette and my driver's license.

"Okay, Kyle Baron... place your hands behind your back."

My hands shook as I did what the officer requested. I felt the handcuffs latch onto me one after the other.

"Please... please," I heard myself say, "don't tell my wife. Please, sir..."

"Shut up," Reyes said, "You have the right to remain silent..."

As he rattled off my rights, I just swallowed and waited for him to move it along. I looked through the windshield at Yvette. She had a smirk on her dick-sucking lips. As the officer avoided looking at her, Yvette took the opportunity to light a cigarette. She rested her forearm on her knee as she breathed toxic air and waited for the officer to get back to her.

"Young lady," he said into the driver's window. "Put the cigarette out and place your hands on the dash, this is your last chance."

"No, officer," Yvette said boldly. "It's your last chance."

I could feel Reyes' grip on my arm. It was firm. I didn't want to look at him or my daughter. I thought this was a particularly confident move on Yvette's part. Everyone has heard stories of policemen letting people off for sexual favors --but that sort of thing I had always relegated to urban myth and legend. Then again, if my daughter was anything, she was a legend.

I glanced at Yvette as she slowly drew smoke in from the cigarette and stared at the policeman. He was hesitating. He was thinking about it. I knew that sort of moral pause was all that my entirely evil daughter needed to exploit. He was letting her in, even if he didn't know it.

"Just put my dad in the backseat," she said as she reached between her legs. She spread her pussy lips and cocked her head toward him considerately. "C'mon, just put him there. Show him you're better at it then he is."

"Miss," the officer lost his professional tone. "I wouldn't know what to do with it if I got it. So please just put your hands on the dash."

Yvette sighed and held her hands out to the dash. She kept her cigarette burning between her fingers. She got onto her knees on the seat and turned her head to look at the cop from behind her blonde tresses.

"I don't mind showing people how to please me, y'know," Yvette smiled, parted her legs, and reached between them. When she'd touched the spot, her eyes fluttered. "Lots of men are grateful when they know."

I felt it in his brace on my arm. He weighed the pros and the measurement of consequence. I knew what was going to happen. And so did he. My daughter had him right where she wanted him.

He opened the backseat door and forced me toward it.

"Officer," I started, but I didn't know if I was about to warn him or plead with him or what.

"Shut up," he said and closed the door.

From my position in the backseat, I watched the cop open the driver's side door --my door. He stood there a moment and looked at Yvette. She was still teasing her own clit. Her mouth was wide open, but the corners of her lips were up in a smile.

"That belt's gonna be awkward," she swallowed a quiet laugh.

The officer reached down and unhooked the belt that held his radio, gun, and I guess other utilities. He set it down on the floorboard beneath the steering wheel.

Yvette's foot crept forward and touched his thigh. Smoke rolled up her arm and toward my face. I leaned away from her and the scene as it unfolded in front of me. If I had ever doubted my daughter's ability to use sex to get anything she wanted, I would never doubt again.

"Close the door will you?" Yvette breathed and glanced down at her wet pussy.

The cop got on his knees in my driver's seat and shut the door behind him. His hands instantly went to undo his cop slacks. My daughter suddenly leaned forward and looked up at him.

"No let me. I wanna do it," she offered the cigarette to him. He took it from her and she leaned forward. She tilted her head to look at me with those glassy blue eyes that brimmed with arrogance and amusement. She rubbed her cheek against his groin as she stared at me. "Mmm. Officer Reyes, your cock is so hard! I hope I don't break it."

I glanced up to see Officer Reyes breathe from her cigarette. She unsnapped him. She unzipped him. His hard-on was densely visible tucked in white cotton underwear. Her perfect hand went into his open pants and she stroked his meat through the cotton. Her eyes looked up at him.

"Miss, do you have a condom?"

She only flashed him her front teeth before she moved back toward his cock. She licked it through his underwear. I could hear her breathe in through her nose as she assessed his manhood. My daughter got to the bottom of the case and pressed her open mouth against the tented fabric. The deliberate sound of her saliva was overwhelming as she soaked his cotton with her spit.

I heard the cop breathe in through his nose. Yvette leaned back to look at him. Her hand stroked his wet underwear. I could see the color of his brown flesh through the wet, white, cotton. "This cock ain't too bad, for a beaner cop."

"Put it in your mouth," he grunted.

"Yes sir, I love Mexican food," Yvette giggled and pulled his underwear down. "I guess you've never done this before." She pushed her tongue out with her cheek, "you'd think a cop would carry condoms."