Stormy Night Surrender on the Folding Cot

My mother had finally passed away after a lengthy illness. She'd been diagnosed shortly before I finished my PUC in Bangalore, and I'd stayed home through four years of local college to get my B.Tech degree. But when I was offered a chance to pursue my M.Tech at a prestigious college in Chennai, both of them insisted I go. I came home on breaks and every summer, helping my dad, Prakash, who had become her primary caregiver. For the first few years she got along without much change in her ability to get out and do things, and the only real change to their routine were all the doctor visits and Ayurvedic prescription pills.

However, by my twenty-second birthday she began to go downhill. She went from a cane, to a walker, to a wheelchair, to spending most of her time in a bed. Dad wasn't much past forty-five but had taken VRS—a voluntary retirement buyout—from his tech firm a few years earlier, taking a sizeable fortune with plans to spend the next thirty years fishing, camping, and traveling with Amma. Instead, he was bathing her, feeding her idlis, and helping her live as comfortably as possible. The end of her life came at them at light speed. They enjoyed their time as best they could, but on a warm spring morning almost a year after I'd gotten my Master's degree, she called to him from the bedroom and asked him to hold her tight.

Within moments, she was no longer suffering.

After the funeral, I stayed with him for several weeks, sorting through her old silk saris and getting the house in order. We spent lots of time each evening sitting on the back veranda, looking out at the moonlit lake outside the city and talking. One evening he told me he was going to sell the house and move.

"Where will you go?" I asked him.

"Your Amma and I talked about this quite a bit," he said, "and I have a place picked out. It's a small house on another lake near Mysore, about three hours from here. It's near where she and I lived when we were in college, and it's perfect."

"Well, at least you get to keep your boat," I said with a grin.

"Damn straight," he replied with a chuckle. "The new lake is even bigger, and the house is smaller. It's a win-win."

I was pleased. I'd loved both my parents of course, but I'd been a 'Daddy's Girl' through and through. We'd always gotten along, laughing and joking with each other, and I was genuinely happy for him to be carrying on with life.

"Probably plenty of women in that college town," I told him with a wink. "They'd be more than happy to share some sexy fun with a handsome man who has his own boat and a lake house."

"Oh, bullshit," he said. "I suspect my dating days are long behind me."

"Keep dreaming, old man," I teased him. "You're a catch, and some gal is going to catch you."

I wasn't really exaggerating. Every college friend from Chennai I'd brought home to visit had remarked about how handsome my dad was, and they weren't wrong. Something I'd never confessed to anyone was that my father figured prominently in my masturbation fantasies.

I hadn't really discovered masturbation until I was in my B.Tech days, and I'd spent lots of time in my upstairs bedroom fingering myself through orgasm after orgasm. No matter what fantasy started my fingering sessions, at the moment of orgasm it was my father's face that often popped into my mind.

When I'd moved out of state to Chennai at the age of twenty-two and gotten my first vibrator, the more intense orgasms had caused more intense fantasies. More than once I'd given into my sexual desire for my own father and built elaborate fantasies about him fucking me senseless while my vibe buzzed me through multiple orgasms.

"So when is the big move?" I asked, trying to focus on something other than the lustful image that I'd inadvertently summoned.

"In about two months," he said. "Tomorrow we'll go through your stuff and anything you want I'll drive down to you in a few weeks. Anything you don't want I'll have donated, along with all the furniture I'm not taking to the new place."

And so a few weeks later he arrived at my flat in Bangalore with a rented Tata Ace mini-truck full of childhood memorabilia, and with the help of some friends, he and I had it unloaded within minutes. He and I went out to eat local biryani that night before he headed back.

He told me everything was on track with the sale of the house, and invited me down in a few weeks to spend one last day at the place as the movers loaded up all his stuff.

"I'm bringing the iron folding cot down from the attic and putting it in your old room," he told me. "I'll spend one last night looking at the lake and then in the morning I'll throw the cot in the back of my SUV, give the keys to the broker, and be on my way."

And so a few weeks later I threw a 'just in case' change of clothes into a backpack and drove my scooter down to the old house to say goodbye. As the packers and movers loaded his stuff, I walked around the property, saying goodbye to the place. I spent time in the house, walking from room to room one last time, grateful for the memories of a great childhood and great parents.

My father and I went into town and had local dosas together, and before long it was getting dark and we were standing in the driveway of the nearly empty house.

"You're okay to spend the night here in the creaky old folding cot?" I asked him.

"Of course," he said. "I slept up there a lot while your Amma was sick. It was where I'd go for a bit of solitude."

With her unable to climb the stairs, I had a sudden flash of him being able to masturbate up there without the slightest chance of getting caught. I don't know why I had suddenly thought of that, but the idea of him masturbating in my old bedroom turned me on.

"Well, at least let me help you get it downstairs," I said. "That'll make it easier for you to get it out to your car in the morning."

"Oh, I can manage," he said.

"Nonsense," I replied. "One last excuse to visit my old room."

"Okay," he conceded with a laugh.

We went in and climbed the stairs, and once in the room I noticed his overnight bag on the bare mattress. I grabbed it so I could put it aside and my eye caught the cover of a magazine inside. The title was 'Desi College Sluts'. There were other magazines underneath it. Apparently one last night of solitude was going to include some cock stroking. I set the bag aside and made no comment. No need to embarrass him.

"You get that end and I'll get this one," I said, grabbing the base of the folding cot.

It didn't take the two of us long to get it downstairs, but as we put it in the living room we heard a loud crash of thunder outside that shook the whole house.

"Wow," I said. "That sounded like the end of the world."

"Maybe the end of you driving home tonight," he said, looking out the window. "The monsoon is breaking. It's about to storm!"

In the time it took me to get to the window there was another crash of thunder and a bolt of lightning that lit the sky.

"Shit," I said. "At least I have a change of clothes in the scooter."

"Go now!" he said. "Grab them before the heavy rain starts. I'm getting my cooler from the trunk." We dashed out the door, and before we were off the porch the rain began to pour down in heavy sheets.

By the time my backpack and his small cooler were back in the empty house we were soaked from head to toe.

"One last memory," I laughed at him, dripping on the tiled kitchen floor.

"Keep laughing," he said. "There's only enough bed for one of us, but at least we have a few Kingfisher beers."

"Living like kings," I declared, grabbing my bag and heading for the stairs. "I'm changing into something dry."

At the top of the stairs, I shut the door and turned on the overhead light. The real reason I'd wanted to change up here was that I wanted another look at his magazines. I peeled off my soaked clothes and opened my backpack. I'd brought clean panties, a dark t-shirt, jeans, a bra, and socks. I hadn't really planned on staying so I had nothing to sleep in.

I pulled tomorrow's t-shirt on over my naked body. It was a dark shirt so it couldn't be seen through, and it was almost long enough to work as a short nightie. Just the same I wasn't brave enough to go without panties. I pulled on tomorrow's pair. They'd just have to last the whole night and next day, or I'd take them off and drive home without.

I zipped the backpack shut and picked up my father's bag. I looked inside quickly and sure enough there were three magazines there. Two issues of 'Desi College Sluts' and one called 'Handjob Honey'.

I smiled to myself and headed downstairs.

"Okay," I announced. "I'm all changed, and I brought your clothes down too." I dumped my wet clothes in the kitchen and put my bag on the living room floor.

"Thanks, honey," he said gesturing to the cooler. "Help yourself to a beer while I change if you like."

He took his bag into the bathroom, and I got a beer out of the cooler, taking it to sit on the floor by the window so I could watch the storm. In a few minutes he returned to the living room, stopping in the kitchen to pile his wet clothes next to mine. He was wearing only a pair of gym shorts.

He sat on the floor next to me and tipped up the bottle to drain the last of his beer.

"Sorry," he said. "All I have to sleep in are these shorts. I didn't plan on having an overnight guest."

"Same here," I said. "I planned on being home in my own bed in Bangalore. The extra clothes were for an emergency. I really didn't plan on sleeping over so I'm sleeping in this."

"Hey, it could be worse," he said. "I usually sleep naked. I'll be wearing these until I catch up with the moving truck tomorrow afternoon."

"Well feel free to sleep however you're most comfortable," I told him, peering at him over my beer bottle. "But if you're going to be waving yourself around the room that means I get the bed."

"It's your lucky night," he said in the near darkness. "I'll let you have the bed and I won't parade around naked in front of you."

"Well you win some, and you lose some," I said.

"You can't be so hard up to see a naked man that you'd settle for me," he said with a chuckle.

"Maybe I prefer wisdom and experience to youth and stamina," I teased him.

"Be careful," he said. "You're not too old for a spanking."

At that moment a bolt of lightning shot across the sky, lighting the entire room up. In that instance we were looking right into each other's eyes, and something about that eye contact turned what he had just said into a purely sexual remark.

"I can't sleep alone after a spanking," I said softly. "So that means neither of us will be on the floor."

"I, uh, I didn't really mean, I was trying to say....." he stammered.

"Relax, Daddy," I said. "If I can't confess my sexual fantasies to my own father, then who can I tell them to?"

"You know," he said, "and I'm being serious now, with your Amma gone you can talk to me. About anything. Even sexual stuff if you need to. Or want to."

"I know, Daddy," I said. "And I appreciate you saying that."

I waited a beat. "Now I just need to think of something to talk about that will embarrass you," I added.

"Good luck with that," he said. "I don't embarrass easily."

"Even if I were to ask about 'Desi College Sluts' and 'Handjob Honey'?" I asked.

"Wha? Where?" he almost choked.

"I saw them in your bag and couldn't resist," I said. "Besides, there's nothing wrong with masturbation. Even if you're ignoring current internet technology while you do it."

"Well it's not that," he said. "Those are..... aww fuck it. You caught me."

"There's no shame in it," I said softly. "Everybody needs orgasms now and then."

"Well it's been much more 'then' than 'now' for me these past few years," he said. "That's why I got those. I was going to treat myself tonight."

"Don't feel bad," I said. "Upstairs is where I had some of my best orgasms."

"I'm not sure I needed to know that," he said softly.

"Don't be too uncomfortable," I told him. "I was a late bloomer who didn't discover masturbation until my B.Tech days, but by then I had a lot of catching up to do."

"And I thought you were studying up there," he said.

"I was," I chuckled. "Just not what you thought I was. I'd have died of embarrassment if you'd have found out."

"So why are you telling me now?" he asked.

"I'm not really sure, Daddy," I said softly. "Somehow knowing that you were going to do it too makes it easier to talk about."

The word 'Daddy' hung in the air. I seldom called him that these days. Only in moments of severe emotion. I'd used it when Amma died. And at her funeral. And the morning after the funeral when I caught him crying on the back porch. Somehow using it here felt very intimate. Almost erotic.

At that moment the loudest crack of thunder I think I've ever heard shook the whole house. Even in the darkness I could feel him jump next to me. No sooner had it receded than lightning lit the room up again.

I hadn't planned on it. I hadn't been trying to look for it. But in that momentary flash, I saw that his shorts were unmistakably tented with a massive erection.

My own father was aroused talking to me about masturbation. But that seemed only fair. My own panties were soaked with desire.

"Let me get us another round," I said, getting up and making my way to the cooler. I fished out two more Kingfishers and went back to the window.

We sat in the dark, drinking and listening to the storm beating against the roof.

"I definitely won't be driving to Bangalore tonight, not in all this rain, especially after a few drinks," I said.

"It worked out great," he said. "One last night here. Just the two of us."

I stretched out and lay down, putting my head on his lap.

"You take the bed, Daddy," I said softly. "Just leave your lap here for me to sleep on."

"You use the bed," he said. "I'll make do here on the floor."

"Why don't we both use the bed?" I asked. "Half a small folding cot is better than the hard floor."

"I don't think we'd fit," he said quietly.

"We won't know until we try," I said, sitting up and taking his hand. "Come on, Daddy."

I unfolded the cot and spread the sheet out on it. There was only one pillow, but I wadded up the blanket and lay down, putting it under my head.

"Almost enough room for two," I said.

The bed shifted and he sat down, and then stretched his legs out and put his head on the pillow. I reached out and put my hand on his arm.

"I love you, Daddy."

"I love you too, sweetheart," he whispered.

We lay that way for several minutes in the quiet, both of us lost in our own thoughts. Eventually I moved over a few inches and reached out to him.

"You can have a little more space than that," I said. "I won't bite."

I pulled his arm a bit and he moved a bit closer to the center of the small bed. Listening to the wind gust against the side of the house, it seemed so natural to snuggle up to him.

"Are you sure you're going to be okay in the new place in Mysore?" I asked him.

"I'll be alright," he answered. "I miss your Amma, but I'll manage."

I put my head on his chest and pressed against him, and was bringing my arm up to put on his chest when my hand brushed against his cock. It was rock hard and sticking straight up in the air.

"I'm sorry, honey," he said softly. "I just miss your mother. In every way."

"Don't be sorry, Daddy," I whispered. "You can't help missing her."

I moved my thigh against him, feeling his unyielding cock press into it. His hips came up off the mattress a bit as he pressed into me.

"I can't help it," he said. "But I am sorry that this happened."

I reached out and put my hand on his hairy stomach. I moved my thigh again, pushing it against his hardness.

"I'm not," I said. "I like the way it feels."

"I think that's a natural reaction," he said. "But these circumstances aren't natural. We probably shouldn't be here like this."

"But we are here like this," I told him, looking into his eyes in the dim light. "And what's wrong with enjoying how it feels?"

"Nothing wrong with enjoying how it feels," he said. "But it's going to make us want to feel even more."

"And that's okay too," I whispered, pushing against him. "Why shouldn't two people who love each other make each other feel good?"

"This might not count as just feeling good," he whispered.

"It only counts in the way you and I decide it counts," I said, trailing my hand down to the waistband of his gym shorts.

"Once we cross this line, we can't uncross it," he said, reaching out to hold my wrist.

"You're my favorite person in the whole world," I whispered. "And I want you to feel good, Daddy."

I pushed my hand into his shorts. He kept holding my wrist but didn't offer any resistance. He closed his eyes and groaned as I wrapped my fingers around his throbbing cock.

"It does feel good," he said with a shudder.

"Good," I said with a smile. "That's the way I want it to feel."

I pulled his waistband down and his cock sprang out, pointing at me in the narrow cot. When his shorts were out of the way, I took it in my hand again and slowly pulled it, feeling the skin slide back and forth over the rigid length of him.

He shuddered again, and I felt a long warm drip of precum spill out onto my fingers. I used it to make his cock slippery and started stroking him again, even faster this time. His hips were coming up off the bed and he was breathing heavily.

"I can't take much of that," he panted.

"How long since you've felt this, Daddy?" I asked him.

He hesitated just a moment before answering.

"It's been about three months since I've done it," he said.

"How about someone else?" I asked, feeling another rivulet of precum coat my hand.

"It's been about five years or so," he said.

"Five years?" I exclaimed quietly. "Oh, Daddy. You really need this."

I started stroking him even faster, determined to give him the release that his body craved.

"Wait!" he hissed in the dark room. "Wait! I'm about to make a mess."

I knew he was about to erupt. We had no more sheets, and our dirty clothes were soaking wet. I rolled over on my back and lifted my hips, hooking my thumbs in the sides of my panties and pulling them down to my knees. I lifted my legs and pulled them the rest of the way off. But instead of wrapping them around his cock, I paused. My cunt was aching, dripping wet and completely exposed to the cool storm air.

I looked up at him, my heart pounding in my chest. "Wait, Daddy," I whispered, tossing the silken panties aside. I reached out and guided his hand to my soaking wet slit. He gasped as his fingers met my slick folds.

"Do you want more?" I asked, my voice trembling with raw need. "Do you want to feel Amma in me? Do you want to feel what you've been missing for five years?"

Prakash froze, staring down at my spread thighs. The taboo weight of my words hung in the air, heavier than the monsoon humidity. But the sight of my dripping cunt, combined with years of pent-up starvation, completely shattered his last ounce of restraint. I could see the primal lust overtake his grieving heart.

He shifted his muscular body over mine, parting my thighs even wider. He reached down, grasping his thick, rock-hard shaft, and slowly guided the broad head to my slick, tight entrance. A feral groan escaped his lips as he let the tip glide through my wetness. He pushed forward, and I gasped loudly as he breached my tight threshold.

The sensation of my father's massive cock stretching my tight, untouched depths was incredibly erotic. He sank into me with an agonizingly slow, deliberate thrust, his thick length stretching every nerve ending in my wet cunt.

"Oh god, Anjali... you are so tight, so wet," he moaned, burying his face in my neck as he finally bottomed out, our pubic bones grinding together. I wrapped my legs around his waist, locking him deep inside me.

"Fuck me, Daddy... please," I whimpered, raking my nails lightly down his back. He pulled back and drove into me again, setting a deep, rhythmic, ultra-erotic pace. The small folding cot creaked violently in time with the thunder outside as he pounded into me. My breasts bounced beneath my t-shirt, and he reached up, pinching my hardened nipples as his thick cock relentlessly hammered my swollen core. The pleasure was blinding. My father's hips snapped against mine, his grunts filling the dark room. I felt my climax building, a torrential wave of ecstasy.

"Daddy, I'm cumming! Give it to me!" I screamed, my cunt clenching furiously around his thick shaft. My orgasm triggered his; he roared in pure, unbridled release, burying his cock to the hilt and pumping massive jets of his hot, potent seed deep into my womb. We collapsed together on the narrow cot, panting heavily as the heavy rains continued to wash over the roof.