Author’s Note: This story is a collaboration with my friend and editor, Harvey. We both contributed equally to its content and we hope you enjoy it.
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It was Saturday morning and I was sitting on my couch holding a letter in my hand, one I’d been waiting months for. I’d checked my mailbox half an hour ago and I was still afraid to open it. For the hundredth time I looked over the sender’s address. It was from Palo Alto, the Stanford School of Law.
On my last visit to her office, my counselor had advised me to apply to a couple of law schools that were certain to accept me. I applied to UNLV and to Loyola Marymount in Los Angeles and I’d received their acceptance letters earlier in the week. She’d also told me to pick one school, my dream school, and apply there as well just to see what would happen. Stanford was widely considered in the legal community to be the Harvard of the West Coast and it had always been my dream school, my long shot.
I took a deep breath and attempted to steady my shaking hands. I very carefully opened the envelope, removed the letter, and began reading.
Elisa Fields,
We are proud to accept you into the graduating class of …
Tears began falling on the letter and I quickly held it up so I wouldn’t soil it further. I’ve done it! They’ve accepted me! Four long years of attending classes and countless hours of studying had really paid off and I was just ecstatic that such a prestigious law school had accepted me.
My mind was now flooded with the different possible paths I could take. I’d applied to UNLV Law School because, ever since I moved to Las Vegas four years ago, I’d found that the city had really grown on me. There was always something to do and I felt at home in the dry desert climate. My next option was to move back to Los Angeles and attend Loyola Marymount. This option appealed to me because I’d be closer to my father. I knew these last four years had been very difficult for him, and if I moved back in with him I could take care of him and I knew he’d be less lonely.
Now I had a third option, move to Palo Alto and attend Stanford, it was far more prestigious than the other two, and then I remembered learning that Supreme Court Chief Justice William Renquist had graduated from Stanford. On the downside, it was much more expensive than the other two law schools. I decided to wait and talk to my father about it and get his opinion on which road I should take. He’d always been a good advisor when it came to making big life-changing decisions like this and I knew he could help me.
I looked down at my watch; it was 8:50. My plan for the morning was to go to the gym on the first floor and work out, shower and get cleaned up, then pick my father up at McCarran when his flight landed at noon. Because he’d be spending a couple of days with me, I’d kept the weekend open and not accepted any dates. I still had a few minutes to kill so I flipped open my laptop and logged into Dana’s site.
I always checked my emails first, but there were no new messages. Then I clicked on the Prospective Dates tab. There were a few requests from some of my older customers and I scrolled past those … boring. Then I ran across two requests that piqued my interest. My father’s friend Brian had requested a three-hour date two weeks from now, and I remembered how much fun I’d had with him and how well he’d tipped me. I clicked on the Accept button. I scrolled down a little further and ran across another interesting proposition. Robert had requested a four-hour BDSM scene a week from now and he’d requested sex this time. My evening with him had been amazing and I reasoned that adding sex into the mix would only make it better. His protege, Kyle, probably told him what a good submissive I was, and I knew that would be a huge payday. Again I clicked on the Accept button.
I scrolled through the rest of the date requests and nothing really caught my eye, but I didn’t really care. I had the next two weeks lined up and I’d log into the site again once my father headed back to LA to see if there were any new requests that interested me. Over the past two years I’d built up an extensive clientele and it was a nice feeling to be able to pick and choose the men I wanted to see.
I looked down at my watch again. Shit! It was 9:05 and I was already late. I quickly rose up off the couch, grabbed my gym bag, and took the elevator down the first floor.
I had a great workout and I felt rejuvenated. I took an hour-long online spin class, which I always enjoyed. Next, I spent a half hour working out with free weights, and I finished my workout by swimming laps in the pool for a half hour. I took a quick shower to get the chlorine off my body, took the elevator back up to my condo so I could do my hair and get dressed, and then I’d make my way to McCarran to pick up my father.
When I unlocked the door and opened it, my jaw dropped open. My father was sitting at the kitchen table drinking a cup of coffee.
“Daddy, it’s Ataköy Escort so good to see you, but I was supposed to pick you up in an hour, what happened?” I ran up to him and gave him a big hug, which he returned.
“I caught an earlier flight and took an Uber.”
“How did you get in?”
“I told the doorman who I was, and after I showed him my driver’s license he brought me up here and let me in.”
Very stealthily, I looked into the living room at my laptop and saw that the cover was down. For a split second I couldn’t remember if I’d closed it or left it open when I rushed out because I was late to my workout. I breathed a little sigh of relief. It’s closed, so I must have closed it, I thought.
“Grab your coffee, let’s sit in the living room, we’ll be more comfortable on the couch,” I said.
“Okay,” he said quietly.
We walked into the living room and sat down together. “I’ve got some amazing news that I can’t wait to tell you.” He looked into my eyes expectedly and I continued. “I got accepted into Stanford,” I said excitedly.
“That’s … ummm … really nice.”
“Really nice? Dad, it’s incredible; do you know how hard it is to get accepted there? It was like my million-to-one longshot that actually came through.”
He was staring off into the distance and his far-away gaze gave me the impression he wasn’t really hearing what I was saying.
“Dad, what’s wrong? It’s like you’re not even listening to me.”
“Tell me about your job at the bookstore,” he said quietly.
My eyes got wide. “What do you want to know?”
“Forget the fucking bookstore,” he snapped. “Who’s Dana?”
I looked down in utter shame. I did leave my laptop open. I didn’t know what to say. Obviously he’d been to Dana’s website, and because I’d logged in he knew everything. Even though the clients couldn’t see it, there was a history of all my past dates, my reviews for every date that I’d accepted, and there was even a place where I’d typed in my notes about the client that wasn’t visible to anyone except me. He’d also had access to my questionnaires, which listed everything I was willing to do with a client on a normal date and a BDSM date.
“She’s my boss.”
“So working at the college bookstore was a lie?”
“Yes.”
There were a few moments of uncomfortable silence. He ran his hands through his hair and shook his head. Then our eyes met. “Tell me exactly what you’ve been doing for the last two years.”
“I’ve been working as an escort.”
“You’ve been selling your body, that’s a fancy word for whore, isn’t it?”
I lowered my eyes; it was too much to bear to meet his intense gaze. “Yes.”
“Look at me when I’m talking to you, Elisa,” he snarled. Again, my eyes met his. “You’re going to answer every question I ask, truthfully. For the first time in two years, you’re going to be honest with me.”
“I’ve hated lying to you, and I’ll tell you everything.”
“Why did you do this?”
“I would have had to drop out of college if I didn’t, no minimum-wage job would have given me the money I needed to stay in school.”
“There had to be another option besides you doing this.”
“There wasn’t, it was either this or drop out and move back home.”
“When you see these men, do you always have sex?”
“Not always, but most of the time.”
“You’re willing to do everything that’s listed on your profile?”
“Yes,” I admitted in a mortified tone.
“How much money do you make on these dates?”
“It depends on what the client wants.”
“Give me a number,” he said sharply.
“I used to accept short dates when I began working, but I don’t really accept those types of dates anymore.” I thought for a moment. “The dates that I accept now range from $5,000 to $15,000, and occasionally I’ve made more on the longer dates.”
He shook his head in disbelief. “Why did you move out of your apartment? You told me that you were happy there.”
“I wasn’t getting along with Lexi and I needed more privacy. You’re the only one that knows about my job and I thought she might find out what I was doing on the weekends.”
“You told me you were leasing this condo, but that’s also a lie, isn’t it? The doorman told me that the units in the building can only be purchased.”
“Yes,” I admitted. “I bought this condo last summer.”
“You told me you got rid of the Honda I bought you when you were sixteen; what did you buy?”
“I bought a Land Rover Evoque.”
Again, he shook his head in disbelief. His voice was calmer now as he slowly digested everything I was telling him.
“What did you do with these men, Elisa?”
“I did whatever they wanted,” I said honestly. “I know you saw my profile that lists everything I’m willing to do.”
He thought for a moment and somewhat changed the subject. “How many times have you been with Brian?”
“A few times, he requests a date with me every three of four months.”
“How could you fuck Ataşehir Escort my best friend?”
I didn’t want to answer because I knew how much this hurt him. However, I’d promised to be honest. No more lies. He demanded the truth and he’s going to hear it. “He pays for longer dates and he tips me really well.”
He shook his head again. “He has a lot of money and he uses it to fuck my daughter.”
“Yes.”
“Are all the men you see married like him?”
“Not all, but most of them are. I do things with them that their wives won’t.”
There were a few moments of uncomfortable silence while he processed all the disturbing things I was telling him.
“Have you enjoyed what you’ve been doing?” he asked quietly. When I looked down and didn’t answer, he reached out, took my chin in his hand, and made me look at him. “Tell me the truth, Elisa; don’t hide anything.”
“Yes, I did enjoy it.”
“All of it?”
“Being with much older men is difficult, but mostly I … I enjoyed what happened.”
“How old is much older?”
“My most challenging dates are with men in their sixties and seventies.”
“Good God, I can’t believe you’re willing to do that.”
“They’re a lot of work, but they don’t mind paying for longer dates … on which … you know … I make more money, and ….”
“And what?”
“Some of the men, not the really old ones but men closer to your age, reminded me of you,” I embarrassingly admitted.
His eyes widened. “They did?”
“Yes.” I thought for a moment. “With some guys, it’s difficult establishing a connection, building a rapport, and thinking of you helped me.”
That brought a little smile to his face, and fortunately he was willing to let my little comment drop and move on. “Aside from the much older men, you’re saying you actually enjoy the sex?”
“Yes.”
“All the different sex acts listed in your profile?
“Yes, all of them.”
“How much did you enjoy those sex acts?”
I couldn’t lie to him. “A lot, Dad, I enjoyed them a lot.”
“You have a strong sex drive?”
I blushed. This was my father asking me. “I … ummm … I guess so.”
“How strong?”
Despite what he’d already learned about me, I decided it was time to object. I’d been truthful, but I didn’t want to go into minutiae concerning everything I liked and was willing to do on a date.
“Dad … why are you asking me these questions?”
He looked me straight in the eye. “Please, Elisa, this is important. It has a direct bearing on some things I have to tell you.”
“Ummm … okay.” I paused, then said softly, “It’s very strong.” I paused again, then added, very quietly, “I might as well admit it; I love sex and I can be very slutty.”
“I also saw that you had a date with a couple; are you bisexual?”
“Yes, I am.” I hesitated, then knew that again I was going to be honest and tell him everything. “The woman I saw on that date, her name is Lynn and I see her outside of work. She’s my best friend, and …” He looked at me expectantly and waited for me to continue. “… I think I may be in love with her.”
“Elisa, she’s married, right?”
“Yes, but what we have is very special to me; I don’t know if I can explain it.”
“Considering everything I’m learning about you, your relationship with her is the least of my worries, but I don’t want to see you getting hurt.”
“She wouldn’t hurt me, what I have with her is wonderful, she adds so much to my life.”
“Just be careful with her, okay?”
“Okay, I will.”
He took a sip of his coffee and it appeared he was deep in thought. “When I read your profile, it said you also accept BDSM date requests. You enjoy that too?”
“It’s something I got into a few months ago, but yes, I enjoy it.”
“Tell me about the BDSM stuff you’ve done.”
“Do you really have to know about all this, about me?”
“Yes, sweetheart, I do. Tell me, and then I’ll tell you why I’m asking.”
All right, you asked for it. “Daddy, I’m a sexual submissive; I love being under the control of a dominant man. I enjoy rough sex and I also love the pain I experience in BDSM scenes, and when my endorphins kick in I get an amazing high, and the combination of endorphins and orgasms is incredibly pleasurable.” I thought for a moment. “When you spanked me years ago, I know now that it made me crave being flogged and whipped,” I admitted shyly.
“When I spanked you it was never intended to be sexual, it was always punishment for your misbehavior.”
“What if I liked it? What if there were times when I intentionally misbehaved so you would … you know … spank me?”
“I guess that makes sense, but I never thought you’d like any of that BDSM stuff. The acorn didn’t fall far from the oak tree,” he muttered.
“What do you mean, Dad?”
“I mean that it’s time for me to tell you about the secret life your mother and I shared. Elisa, there are some things she and I were very careful Avcılar Escort to keep from you while you were growing up, but under these circumstances I think it’s time you learned about them.”
It was my turn to be shocked. My parents hadn’t been like I knew them? “What are you saying?”
“You obviously inherited some genes from both your mother and me, and especially from her,” he began. “She had a huge appetite for all kinds of sex, and my sex drive has always been high too.”
This new information shocked me. My mother was the perfect homemaker who always doted on my father and me. I’d always thought of her as a goody-two-shoes priss and nothing like what he was describing. If anything, I would have guessed that their sex life was boring and even … vanilla.
“I never knew any of this,” I whispered.
“You weren’t supposed to know. Do you remember all those Saturday nights when we told you we were going to dinner and a movie?”
“Yes, I remember. You had a sitter for me until I was a teenager, and then I stayed home by myself because I wasn’t allowed to have anyone over while you were out.”
“Well, the dinner part was right, but there weren’t any movies. After dinner your mother and I went to swap parties.”
Holy shit! Swap parties? My parents were swingers? I’m flabbergasted. “You and Mom had sex with other people?”
He nodded. “Yes, we did. I won’t say who they were, but you knew some of them.”
“And Mom liked that?”
“Your mother loved it. There were times when she was practically insatiable and I struggled to keep up with her.”
“So you’re saying I’m like her, that I got my drive and my enthusiasm for sex from her?”
“Yes, I think that’s the case. I read everything that you’re willing to do with a man when you meet him, and you’re exactly like her.”
“I … I … I didn’t know any of this.”
“We were careful to hide it from you. Neither of us wanted you to know about what we enjoyed doing when we went out, and there’s more to the story if you want to hear it.”
“Of course I want to hear it.” These revelations were emotionally overwhelming, but I had to know everything.
“Your sex drive isn’t the only thing you inherited from your mother; she and I were regulars at Lair de Sade in North Hollywood.”
It took me a couple of seconds to make the connection. “Is that a reference to the Marquis de Sade?”
“Yes, Elisa, the Lair is a public dungeon. Your mother loved sex, but we both enjoyed BDSM play and she was a real pain-slut. Those days by the pool when your mom wore pants instead of a bikini?” He looked at me questioningly and waited until I nodded. “That was because she had marks she didn’t want you to see.”
Damn, does that mean what I think it does? “I guess that means you …” I let that dangle in the sudden stillness.
“Yes, sweetheart, I was her dom, and her top, and we swapped with other BDSM couples too.”
My head was spinning; this was an overwhelming amount of TMI about people I thought I’d known. I didn’t know if I could handle any more of these shocking revelations, but I couldn’t stop myself from asking.
“Is that it, or is there more?”
“I suppose you might as well get the … complete picture,” he said quietly.
“I’ve been honest with you about everything, and if there’s more I want to hear it.”
“Okay, here’s the rest. The swap group was … multi-generational.”
“What the hell does that mean?”
“It means, Elisa, that there were some families that were represented by more than one generation. Your mother and I were in our 30s when we joined the group, and in some cases a couple was in their 40s and their children were also participants in the group. One time your mother and I paired off with a couple of 19-year-olds.”
“And did you enjoy that?” I asked a bit sarcastically.
“We both did. The young couple was … inexperienced … but they were very … enthusiastic.”
That touched a nerve, because Ed had been inexperienced, to say the least, but also very enthusiastic. My thoughts flashed back to my times with him, teaching him, and the amazing evenings that I’d shared with him. Despite the weirdness of this conversation and everything we were learning about each other I started to become aroused. I was just like him and my mother; I was experimental and willing to engage in extreme aspects of sex just like them. I had to admit this felt good, unburdening my soul to the man that I trusted the most.
“We’re really quite similar, I think. We both had a lot of secrets we were keeping from each other,” I admitted shyly.
“There’s one more piece to this puzzle, sweetheart. Some of the multi-generational players also had sex with their adult children, and there were times when we watched them together and we … swapped with them, both with the parents and with their kids.”
What? That’s crazy. “Are you serious, you experienced that too?”
“Yes, honey, we did.”
Maybe this wasn’t so crazy. I’ve been having these thoughts about being with my Dad, and Ray and Rachel showed me that incest between consenting adults, maybe because of the taboo factor, can be intensely erotic. That thought aroused both my mind and my pussy, and I felt moisture start to form between my legs. I reached out and gently took my father’s hand and gave it a gentle squeeze.