Spider

Amateur

Foreplay: Although I don’t hate spiders I wouldn’t pick one up without a cloth or tissue. They usually do a good job, trapping and / or eating other little nasties but I’m always cautious of the bigger ones. Maybe I shouldn’t have watched Arachnophobia.

Incy wincy spider climbed up the waterspout.
Down came the rain and washed poor Incy out.
Out came the sun and dried up all the rain,
So Incy wincy spider climbed up the spout again.
Except … this ain’t no ordinary spider!

*

“Shit!” Ben snarled, amongst other expletives. He’d just been bitten.

It was just one of those days, a lazy summer Saturday. It was a day to unwind, a day to chill on a garden lounger with a cold can of beer, a day to enjoy one of the best days that the limited British summer could afford.

Bollocks! It was one of those days that went wrong from the very start.

“Daddeee!” shrieked Charlie from the bathroom. Ben rushed upstairs, thinking his daughter had seen a monster lurking in the bathroom cupboard. When he arrived there she had the tap handle in her left hand and water was flowing out of the part where the handle should have been. He dived back downstairs, tugged a multitude of cleaning equipment – washing up liquid, stain removers, dust cloths, pan scourers, car wash-n-wax, you-name-it – from the cupboard under the sink until he could finally reach the water stop tap.

“It’s OK darling,” he offered to his distraught daughter, “It’s not your fault. I should have fixed it weeks ago.” That was an understatement. Although the tap’s inner workings had become very loose, ‘it still worked’ so in Ben’s mind it didn’t need fixing.

Charlie (never Charlotte, her given name at birth) was in tears, but calmed a little once she was sure the water had stopped. “I only turned the tap to get washed,” she pleaded, red eyed, still clad in a far too thin nightie, for the temperature in her bedroom hadn’t cooled much during the night. Her matchstick body showed very little in the way of womanly charms despite the fact she had now fully progressed through college and with the looseness of the fabric her breasts could hardly be seen – not that her daddy would have taken much notice. He hadn’t even noticed as she hugged him, pressing her small but very firm breasts against him, drying her tears on his shoulder. Her face and hands would remain unwashed for a couple of hours until Ben had the parts needed to rectify the problem. She went back to bed.

*

That’s where the spider came in. In a hidey hole the damned creature had spun its temporary home until disturbed by a hand wielding a wrench invaded its space.

“Shit,” Ben snarled again as the arachnid sank its fangs painfully into his finger. Having defended itself in the only way it knew, the spider dropped to the bathroom floor, scooting away as fast as its half dozen legs could carry it, disappearing into a hole hardly big enough for it to pass through … a hole that had been filled a while ago, except that the filler had worked loose within a couple of weeks and hadn’t been replaced.

“Daddy, it’s only a spider,” pleaded Charlie, a fully qualified and banner waving vegan and totally opposed to any arachnid, fly, moth, insect of any shape or form being harmed by human intervention. Considered by her as just an extension to her vegan beliefs Charlie vigorously defended her views that no living non-human creature should ever be killed. Period.

“If you’d been helping me, instead of spending all day gossiping on the Web, (OK, a poor pun) then I might have got this fixed before now.”

“If you’d done as mum said and got a plumber in to fix it, it wouldn’t still need fixing.” She had point; the innards of the tap had been working loose for several weeks but Ben would never pay a £70 call-out charge plus £30 an hour plus parts for work he could attempt himself. It looked so easy – he’d watched enough videos on-line to convince himself he could do the job as well as any rip-off plumber.

“Just hold the tap steady while I tighten the nut,” asked Ben, already frustrated with the vengeful attack of a cowardly creature that sped away from the scene.

“Like this?” asked his dutiful daughter.

Ben moved his head from underneath the washbasin to where Charlie was holding the tap. At least, that’s what he intended. Perhaps it was Charlie’s fault she was wearing a short nightie. In fact it wasn’t even that – it was an old, thinning, long tee-shirt. Perhaps, he reasoned, she chose to sleep minus panties because it had been so hot, and that was solely her choice. Perhaps also it was her choice to stand legs slightly parted, possibly believing that her daddy would never think of letting his eyes wander. Shaking his head, Ben regained his senses. Fuck, he’d never before have dared seek a peek, hell he’d never even given thought to seeing his daughter – his 19 year old daughter – in a sexual way.

“Yes,” he said, finally focusing on her hands, “Just like that until I tighten it up.” His eyes continued to flick a sneak until finally the escort buca new tap was in place. He went back downstairs to the stop tap, turning it slowly, waiting for the scream that water was leaking out. It never came.

*

All through his rather late breakfast he sat, idly rubbing at the puncture mark on his finger. The pain had eased but the finger had reddened. The warmth was reassuring at first; his body chemistry was fighting the spider venom. But the warmth was now spreading, slowly into his hand, his wrist and now the end of his arm. It was an itchy feeling, not the same as a nettle rash or even a bee sting. It was different, but the itching was not to ease for several hours.

“Is the tap OK now?” Ben asked Charlie.

“Well, yes … but it doesn’t match the other tap,” she replied. There wasn’t even hint that she’d seen him view her stubbled pussy lips or her butt.

“As long as it works,” said Ben. Carol, his wife – Charlie’s mother – was used to the phrase. Whilst Ben wasn’t a miser, he would cut every penny he could from the family budget. The store had insisted he bought a matching pair of taps. Ben had argued that he needed just one and asked them to double check their stock. Needless to say they refused, but he had the consolation of fixing it himself and he would ‘save money for a rainy day.’ It was pointless arguing – if Ben had fixed it ‘so that it worked’, it meant that he wouldn’t discuss it further. By storing the surplus matching tap, it could be changed as soon as he had the time and the inclination. And the inclination was, if Carol didn’t constantly harass him, that he could fix the second tap only when it too went faulty.

“I’m glad you didn’t kill the spider – it was only protecting itself,” said Charlie with a smile.

“The bugger didn’t give me a chance,” Ben began, before Charlie’s smile became a menacing scowl.

The day passed like any other weekend day, no work, just chilling out watching sport on TV. While Carol got her head in a book Charlie snuggled next to daddy, sharing his interest in cricket, soccer or whatever, disagreeing in unison with referee or umpiring decisions.

Ben, though, had a building urge to let his tingling arm, loosely around Charlie’s waist, move upwards. His hand tightened a little, lightly brushing her side, up and down, very slowly touching where he knew would give her a little pleasure. Charlie moved his hand away when he dared touch under her small breast.

“No,” she mouthed silently and Ben obliged. Soon they were disagreeing again with most of the decisions the match official was making. Nothing more was said; Charlie had made her objection clear. Ben felt guilty for the rest of the day and just couldn’t reason out why, after 19 years, he’d made his only attempt at a sexual touch of his daughter. Playfully tickling her side was one thing, attempting to grope one of her undersized tits was totally wrong.

*

“Hey, why so horny?” asked Carol, hours later in the bedroom.

“Nothing specific,” answered her husband. Sex in many, if not most, relationships peaks and dips. As time goes by the dips tend to override the peaks, giving some an opportunity to cheat. Office parties apart, Ben maintained he hadn’t strayed all. Carol was much the same and life went on.

“So do you want to play or fuck?”

Ben knew that foreplay could be exciting – Carol could be an expert tease for anything ranging from a few minutes to well over an hour. He said nothing. His need had gradually increased as the day went on and by bedtime the semi he’d had ever since Charlie had quite rightly made her feelings known became persistently hard. Carol never refused him in the bedroom, herself often eager when Ben was tired and unable after a tough day in the office. He kissed her, reaching around and expertly unclasping her bra. Once her sweater was over her head, dumped lazily on the bed, he rained kisses on her still shapely breasts, tugging her nipples with his lips and making them hard. His hand moved to her skirt button and zipper, the nylon teeth smoothly opening to allow her skirt to drop. Her panties made it to the floor in record time

“I guess it’s ‘fuck’ then,” she offered, and with her practised skill Ben was quickly naked. “Oh my god,” she said with eyes wide open, “You are horny. How the hell did you get so big?”

Ben shrugged his shoulders, “I guess it’s because you’re so beautiful.”

“I need a taste of that,” she ventured, as if it was a bar of the world’s most delicious chocolate. She giggled like a schoolgirl as that same thought passed through her mind. For the next few minutes Ben couldn’t speak as the most superb sensations passed quickly through to his pleasure brain. He’d been sucked off many times and Carol was an expert. And then there were extra rations – what happened at office parties didn’t count as infidelities. He never slept with his secretary but she’d always been keen to please her boss. Any blowjob was welcome, though Carol had always been better than Annette.

“Oh buca escort bayan shit,” said Ben as he suddenly fired his cum down Carol’s throat, but by the time she had licked off every last drop he was still firm enough again to enter her.

“That should take the edge off your horny intentions,” she quipped, with a smile. “If you’re going to fuck me then you’re going to make it last.”

“Oh? So you’re horny too?”

“I’m horny more often than you realise,” said Carol, “But you quite often go straight to sleep.” A twist, then, from what was the normal perception of life in the bedroom.

“So why don’t you …?”

“Make the move?” she interjected, “Because I’m a woman.” And no further reason was offered.

“Careful,” said Carol as Ben entered her, “You seem so damned big.”

“Sorry,” said Ben as he eased off. Little by little all of his swollen length filled her. He couldn’t comprehend just why his mind could think only of ramming her hard, fucking her like he’d done when they first met. He just had to cum again, to fire deep inside her, to mix his seed with her egg, to make her well and truly pregnant. It was unlikely, he knew, but that didn’t lessen the need within him.

“Oh yes,” said Carol, now welcoming his movements inside her. Her juices were flowing and his raging piston now produced pleasure to replace the initial pain. “Fuck me hard,” she insisted, “Make me cum.” And Ben moved with her need, pounding her until he felt his balls about to burst. Of course, she had lessened the load of cum he had spare and his ability to make it shoot at will, but cum he did, with a noisy grunt just before she too climaxed in a forceful way she hadn’t done for years.

They made small talk, kissed, cuddled and eventually let their tired bodies succumb to sleep.

*

Ben awoke early the next morning, Carol’s arm loosely draped over his hip, warm naked breasts pressing against his back. He vaguely remembered drifting off to sleep with Carol, herself tired, intermittently stroking him. His wife – his seemingly neglected wife – was going to make the most of his attention, even though most men his age would find it difficult to keep hard after cumming twice. Refreshed from sleep he was as hard as ever, more a crowning glory than a morning one. Slowly he escaped from Carol’s loose captivity, awkwardly eased his bladder and after a short time downstairs he brought coffee to their bed.

“Mmmm,” said Carol, eyes still heavy from sleep. She blinked, trying to focus. What she saw amazed her; Ben was full, his hardness poking cheekily through the gap in his dressing gown. They fucked, without any care of disturbing their daughter, for nigh on an hour.

*

During the week that passed nothing untoward happened. Carol, she admitted to herself, was a little sore by Monday, and not too inclined to take his newly resurrected passion deep inside her. Ben and Carol both worked, Charlie put in some occasional hours as and when the small supermarket needed her and that particular week one of the staff was off sick. Ben’s urgent desire to copulate eased slightly as the days passed. He had given Carol a rough description of the spider that bit, but it wasn’t seen again. Friday evening was the only time Charlie finished work before 9pm. She was too tired though to go down town and by 10.30 she was in bed.

Carol accepted the extra attention Ben gave her later in the week, although he never seemed inclined to repeat the determined thrusts that he’d offered her the weekend before. By Friday, exhausted from making executive decisions at the office, Ben was soon in bed and asleep, Carol, for once, was contented.

*

The next noise Ben heard was a loud shout from the next bedroom.

“Daddy,” screamed Charlie. He donned dressing gown, his eyes still glued from sleep, his brain fogged. Glancing at the clock he noted it wasn’t yet 6am, and at 6am on a Saturday morning, he pondered, what the fuck did Charlie want?

“What’s up?” he asked as he rushed into her room. Charlie was sat on her pillow, back pressed hard against the headboard, knees tucked under her chin, mouth sucking at a tasteless wrist – a habit she’d had since infancy – and her other lips, her pussy lips, easily visible through slightly parted thighs.

“I think I’ve been bitten,” she said, tears in her eyes. “It hurts.”

“Where?” he asked.

Charlie straightened her legs and pulled up the long, well worn tee-shirt she slept in. “Just here,” she said, knees parting, seemingly oblivious to, or unconcerned about the treat she was again presenting to her daddy’s eyes. What he saw were fang marks, barely 3 or 4 inches from her still stubbly pussy lips. The two marks were very similar to the ones on his finger. He pulled the duvet off the bed to see the cowardly spider scoot quickly away. This time he had a better look. Its body, around 2 inches long, had a series of yellow hoops. Furry and with legs long enough for it to scoot away at the speed of light, the critter quickly disappeared. buca escort

“I really think your mother should be the one who looks after you,” said Ben, “I mean it’s not the sort of place …” He pointed to her pussy lips and the neat curve of her tight valley. Her pink, moistened, place of ultimate promise had parted, revealing where only a partner would see. Her clit, he noted, winked at him. Some women, Ben thought, would pay hundreds of pounds for a surgeon to remove their ugly flaps. Charlie, he hoped, would keep her youthful perfection for a long time, and how many women, he pondered, had their clit peeking out so readily.

“Oh cut the crap, daddy,” snapped Charlie, “This is an emergency. Is mum awake?”

“No, and at this early hour of a Saturday morning most of the town won’t be either.”

“So there’s just you. Can’t you suck some of the venom out and spit it into a tissue?”

“What? When it’s just 3 inches away from your … your …”

“My vagina, daddy, my pussy, slit, crack, my cunt. Every woman has one, that’s about 51 percent of the population. Hell, it’s not as if you don’t know me.”

“But …”

“But nothing. Are you going to do it or not?”

Ben saw it as a no-option. There had been several times over the years he’d sucked part of her arm after a wasp or bee sting to stop the ingress of the venom. Once, he remembered, from her lower leg and once, it crossed his mind, it was a little higher. That time Ben saw it as embarrassing. It had been a picnic and wasps, as everyone knows, love picnics. Charlie had been distressed – but of course at the picnic she’d worn shorts and Carol had made the request.

Charlie was stressed, angry, worried even. She parted her legs more to allow him access and a sight that belonged more to a teen porn movie. He made the best attempt he could, creating further redness to the already swelling soreness. He quickly made to the bathroom to spit it out and swill his mouth, the scent of his daughter’s cunt still invading his nostrils. He hoped that his dressing gown would hide his own swelling. The last thing he wanted was a visit from the police.

“So aren’t you going to check it?” Charlie summoned him back to her room. “Don’t worry, I won’t say a word to mum.” Ben looked. Even a few days on from his first sighting, Charlie’s stubble hid nothing at all. He noticed the familiar flush and swelling that made him think she was now as aroused as him. “But stop staring at my clit, will you,” she added. Ben felt a flush of shame. His daughter’s clit had noticeably swollen. Hell, he thought, her clit was well on heat.

“I’ll find the antihistamine cream,” he said, still befuddled as to what had just happened. Gently rubbing it into the bite marks he smiled as Charlie shivered a little. “A sensitive place?” he asked. “Couldn’t you just have settled on getting bitten on your finger or toe?”

“I didn’t make the choice,” she answered, smiling back. “Anyway,” she continued in a quiet voice as he left the room, “It wouldn’t have been anywhere near the same fun.” And she winked.

Carol was still asleep when Ben returned to bed. He mused that if a long range missile whistled through the house Carol would sleep through it. Now naked again but with an erection that refused to subside he snuggled up to Carol, who was blissfully unaware of what had happened. Why was it that his daughter’s strong, musky, almost dirty day-old pussy juice, laced with deeply sensuous pheromones could overrule his wish to forget to put the experience down to ‘an emergency’? He prodded his pole against Carol’s butt, this time half-rousing her from sleep.

“Mmmm, she murmured, “Horny again? Well you’ll have to wait.” And with that she went back to sleep. Wait he did, too long. Sleep for Ben never came and he reluctantly rose and took a long relaxing shower. He dressed with Carol still asleep and headed downstairs. With coffee steadily perking he heard the shower running again.

“‘Morning daddy,” said Charlie about 15 minutes later. Coming across, she gave him a kiss on his cheek. “Thanks daddy. The itching stopped for a while but it’s back again. Can you put some more of that cream on, please.”

“You’ve likely washed it off in the shower, but Charlie I really shouldn’t. What if …”

“She’s asleep. I’ll get the cream.” No option then; Ben couldn’t understand the sudden change in Charlie.

“You could at least have put on some panties,” Ben protested as he applied the soothing cream, but his swollen cock was real and his protest was fake. Charlie’s pride was newly smooth, not a trace of earlier stubble.

“And get that messy cream on them?” Valid point. Charlie gave an involuntary shiver as her daddy carefully soothed the two reddening bite marks.

“Did you notice this?” remarked Ben. He gently touched where his daughter had shaved and Charlie involuntarily shivered again. Her pubic mound was blushing. “I don’t think it’s razor rash. I’ll put more cream here. Shit, what the hell, why had he just said that? His hand had moved there of its own accord. His erection was getting painful and he wanted to … he needed to … what? He shook his head, trying to get the thought out of his brain. Clit-tease his own daughter? No. Give her enough pleasure to make her cum? No, no!! Fuck her brains out? No, no, no, no, no!!

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