Her Father, Sam Lane

Lois' eyes opened wide in recognition. Her father, the general, was standing there in civilian clothes—a modest dark suit, no tie, shirt open to show the greying curly hair on his chest. Wildly inappropriate for this kind of club, but still definitely more casual than Lois had ever seen him look since...since before her mother had died...

What is he doing here? The reporter asked herself.

"Oh Daddy," Lois heard her own voice speaking, though it was her mother putting the words in her mouth. "Did you come here looking to score?"

Sam Lane had the good grace to cough and look embarrassed. A slow blush spread across his rugged cheeks. Inside her own head, Lois wanted to die. Her father had come to this club looking to get laid. Mastering himself, the elder Lane put on his best stoic dad face as he attempted to change the subject.

"Never mind why I'm here...what are you doing here dressed like that? You hardly have a stitch on. It's hardly appropriate. I almost wouldn't recognize you." He blustered, but Lois could feel the smile on her own face. Her body moved forward, Ella taking her father's arm with her own.

"Maybe I'm here for the same reason you are." Her mother leaned in and whispered in her father's ear.

Lois could feel her breast brush against her father's arm, the jacket falling open, the general not looking away quite quickly enough. Arm in arm, Ella led Sam Lane away from noise and motion of the dance floor, away to the stairs where it was quieter...darker...

Sam Lane didn't pull away. Maybe that was the worst part of it. Ella puppeteered Lois' body perfectly, maintaining contact at all times, pressing up against him, flashing her tits...and Lois saw her father, maybe for the first time, as a man. A man that couldn't stop staring at his daughter's body as they descended the stairs arm in arm...the stairs were not in the best condition, and Lois was wearing heels...and the reporter saw how very deliberately Ella aimed for a particular crack in the bottom stair, planting her heel and twisting the ankle...the shoe collapsed and Lois saw and felt herself pitch forward...

...only for her father to catch her in his arms, hugging her close, her bare breasts pressed against her broad chest, the smell of Old Spice and bourbon assaulting her senses. It was warm, cozy, almost familiar from younger and more innocent days...and then Lois felt her hand press against his trousers, feeling the hard, warm mass trapped behind the zipper.

He's hard for me. Lois realized, as her mother guided her daughter's fingers to explore the mass of his testicles, the smile pulling even harder at her lips.

"Lois..." He huffed, face confused, flushed. "What are you..."

"Ssh, Daddy," Ella whispered, giving Lois' father a ****, hungry look. "It's been a long time, hasn't it? I know what you need." Thumb and forefinger found the zipper and began to pull it down. "Lois" gave her father a knowing wink, and deliberately ran her tongue around her lips.

"It'll be just our little secret..." she said, as she freed his hardening cock, still only half-erect.

Lois Lane had seen her father's dick before—once by accident when she entered the bathroom without knocking, and as a curious teenager a couple more times, discreetly looking through doors that Sam Lane hadn't closed quite enough. It was, in many senses, her first cock. The first she had ever seen, the first she had dreamed about at night, the first she gently rubbed her slit to in those first nights of exploring her own sexuality. She hadn't thought about it in years but now...

Now it was in front of her, drooping in a soft arc, ropey blue veins beneath the skin, looking thicker than she remembered, the great purple head swelling from the bullet-shape to something rounder, fit to burst...and almost as in a dream Lois found herself sinking to her knees before her father, mouth open wide.