Eclectic Tastes

This is a follow-up to "Same Time Next Year" published in incest/taboo on 3/10/2019. It's helpful, though not necessary, to read that one first. There's room for a follow-up to Eclectic Tastes as well. Please let me know if you'd like one. Also, all characters in this story are over the age of 18.

*****

The last thing that Linette Culbert ever thought was that one day she'd be confused over her sexuality. Now twenty-four, she had waded into her teen years like most "normal" girls—she liked boys. Being pretty, she had no problem attracting them either. She went to parties, went on dates and had a couple of long-term, "serious" relationships between college and graduate school. Yes, there were those weird flirtations with Drake, her dad, but nothing came of them until that last father-daughter dance at the Hillandale Country Club. Then, in a manner of speaking, the dam broke. After the dance, she and Drake consummated their mutual desire back at her apartment. But prior to that, before the dance ended, she and gal pal Cassie Chunko, also at the dance with her dad, indulged in some lesbian foreplay in the ladies' room. Cassie had insisted that she was no lesbian—she was simply helping Linette out. Linette got into it, would have climaxed on her feet had it not been for those girls who came into the rest room, unknowingly putting the kibosh on the women's indulgence.

She and her dad have tentative plans for an encore after the next father-daughter dance. But that's a whole year away and Linette doesn't think she can wait that long. Speaking of encores, she wouldn't mind having one with Cassie Chunko. She can still feel her friend's skillful fingers working their magic inside her pussy, and she'd like another go-around, this time in the privacy of her own place. As if this isn't enough, she's being pursued by a guy she met shortly before the father-daughter dance, a one Anderson Quick. He's near her dad's height of six-four, one the few guys she's met that she can, literally, look up to, even in heels. He's smart, he's good looking and, as far as she knows, he's straight as an arrow sexually. She can imagine what his reaction might be if she told him what she did. She laughs out loud at what she might say: "Anderson, in the interests of full disclosure, I've engaged in incest and lesbianism. Both in the same night."

First things first. It's early Saturday morning, a few hours before she's to meet Drake at the boathouse for a sculling workout. Drake rowed for Boston College and, like Linette, he does it now to keep fit. Linette hasn't yet told Drake that waiting a full year for another father-daughter bonding session is a year too long. Should she really tell him that or hold off? She debates the pros and cons while sitting at her kitchen table wrapped in a robe, sipping her coffee and reading the paper from her laptop. At least she's TRYING to read the paper. Thoughts of she and Drake engaged in deviant behavior distract her. Digesting the day's news isn't easy while picturing herself and Drake doing things in the boathouse that could get them banned from the boathouse at best, arrested for lewd behavior in public at worst. She feels her fingers creeping toward her crotch, slipping inside her robe, then slipping inside her. She's horny as hell and it isn't even eight o'clock yet. "I must be some crazy nymph," she says out loud. Either that or it's a case of giddy anticipation. Or perhaps it's both. She could use her vibrator. So easy—and so boring. If only Cassie were here. She hopes that what happened that night wasn't just a onetime thing. Cassie's no lesbian and neither is she. Even so, she can't deny that watching Cassie's boobs while being fondled gave her a rush. Had she the time or the gumption that night at the Hillandale, she might have torn open Cassie's blouse and attacked her massive boobs tongue-first.

"These digressions are serving no purpose except to make me more frustrated," she says. She gulps down the last few drops of java, closes her laptop and then retreats to her room to dress. She throws off her robe, then gives her bod a critical look in the full-length mirror that hangs on her door. She's built like a rower, tall, with long legs and arms becoming more muscular now that she's working with weights and machines. Her boobs could be bigger, her butt narrower. Always room for so-called improvements, right? Improvements in quotes. Cassie's got the boobs and the conventionally feminine female form, soft and curvy. Linette, as Drake pointed out, is built like the athlete she is and she shouldn't be so envious of what she's not. Instead, she should focus on her assets, her dad had advised her. Good advice; she'll try.

Meanwhile, the weather is ideal for rowing today—breezy with temps in the sixties. She can wear her black spandex shorts and her lightweight green, long-sleeve team jersey. She doesn't plan on anything happening on par with what happened after the father-daughter dance, though she wouldn't object if it did. No intimacy with Drake for another year? Perish the thought.

*****

Drake shares Linette's sentiments. He'd be up for more sooner if not for the not so minor inconvenience of being married to Linette's mom. All had not gone smoothly after he had returned home from ostensibly helping Linette with her training routines. He now could kick himself for not taking a shower before leaving his daughter's place, washed the distinctive, pungent odor of sex from his body. He didn't, and his wife Elaine had noticed it. Their tense conversation had gone something like this:

"Did you and Linette have a wrestling match or something?"

"Yes, and she won. That's one strong daughter we've got."

"Come on, Drake, seriously."

He shrugged.

"You reek of Linnie all over."

"You're kidding."

"I know what our daughter smells like."

"We were hunched close at her kitchen table. Remember, Elaine, we had danced together before that."

"Well, you must have danced and hunched awful close to smell like that."

"I guess we did."

"Yeah, I guess you did, too."

And that was that until now as Drake slips on his blue warm-up jacket preparing to leave for the boathouse. Elaine, her still dark brown hair knotted up, dressed in yellow slacks and matching jacket, jangles her car keys, close to leaving for some Saturday morning shopping. They're standing in the dining room just a few feet apart. The air between them hasn't thawed since Elaine's query into her husband's scent. She knows that Drake and Linette are going rowing this morning, something that Drake knows Elaine wouldn't even think to question before a few nights ago.

She tosses her keys a foot in the air, then catches them. "Guess you and Linnie will be hunched close in that boat today, huh?"

"We'll be in cramped quarters, Elaine," he says, looking annoyed. "Those shells are small." He grits, struggling to stay civil. "Look, it's about time you tell me what's eating you. You apparently think something improper went on between Linnie and me. Right?"

"I didn't say that. But why would you even assume that's what I was thinking?" Pause. "Unless..." She lets her word UNLESS hang in the air like something to be swatted, her face a picture of scolding condescension.

"Unless what, Elaine?" His face is a picture of defiance. He crosses his arms against his chest, as if daring her to go further.

She tosses her keys again. "Look, I gotta go. Tell Linnie to please call me after your rowing workout."

*****

Linette, from her position in the bow, pays rapt attention to what Drake is saying as they row just past the inner harbor. "So what you're telling me, dad," she responds, "is that mom suspects that we engaged in hanky panky after the dance."

"All because I didn't take a shower."

"I'm as much to blame as you. I should have thought of that. Now what?"

"Now what? Now we just enjoy each other's company, the exercise and this fabulous weather."

She knows he's right. She also knows she's still horny. Her body tingles with anticipation and desire as they row past the glass-walled office buildings, towering over the inner harbor in all their gleaming corporate splendor. From a mile away, she can see sailboats and cargo ships sailing down the Patapsco toward the Chesapeake Bay. Her newly developed muscles flex and contract with every stroke, giving her that familiar endorphin high. Her ponytail swings in the breeze.

She's not looking forward to calling her mom because she figures, per what Drake told her when they picked up their shell in the boathouse, that Elaine will question her the way she questioned Drake. Tell her the truth? Out of the question. She might be horny but she's not purposely destructive. She's not looking to wreck her parents' marriage or create more distance between she and her mom than there is already. She loves Elaine—she thinks—simply because she's her mom. She can't say she likes her. Sparks flew between them ever since she was in grade school. Sparks fly now. It's a strained relationship, replete with Elaine's judgmental comments—'you should have done this or that.' They argue a lot. Recriminations abound. Linette can't help but wonder if screwing her dad is a way of getting back at her mom. In any event, she's not looking forward to that phone call. She IS looking forward to feeding her hunger for a bedroom encore with her dad. Only next time he better take a shower.

Will there be a next time? She can only hope. An hour later, after they've turned their shell back in, she faces Drake beside her blue Chevy Cruze. "Dad, I know that too much of a good thing isn't always such a good thing. However, well, right now I'm incredibly hot for you and was just wondering if you felt the same about me."

His eyes go to her full, shapely thighs wrapped in tight spandex. "I'm trying not to, but yes. Considering how long I've felt this way, it's not something I expect to get over soon, if ever."

She grins as she unties her ponytail, letting her hair fall to just past her shoulders. "Music to my ears." She then steps forward and tucks her fingertips inside the waistband of his sweats. "So, do we have a date?" Without waiting for an answer, she wraps her arms around him, pressing her body close. "Kiss me."

"Oh man," he grunts, a timid protest if there ever was one, followed by an equally timid resistance that collapses like a lean-to in a strong wind. He submits to her embrace, then pumps his hardening cock against her while his lips stay locked against hers and his hands press against her butt. After coming up for air, he says, "I guess we have a date."

She's not insensitive to his reservations. Incest is one thing; cheating on his wife, her mom, is another. Looking down, she unzips his warmup jacket halfway, then runs her fingers over his tight undershirt, feeling the contours of his solid chest. "Look, dad, neither of us feels good about doing this behind mom's back—as much as I resent her sometimes. And you're married to her. I get it. But, well, nature calls."

"That's one way to put it. Call it the nature of the unnatural, a father-daughter dance that wouldn't play well in Peoria or anywhere else."

She reaches up and ruffles his hair. "Except in my bedroom. It played exceptionally well the last time we were there. So let's go."

*****

By the time they arrive at Linette's apartment, Drake feels his balls starting to ache. The anticipation alone nudged his cock to stiffen, then lock, and he's not shy about letting her know it when they get inside. "Oh my," she gasps, feeling the bulge over his pants. "This calls for some remedial action."

He follows her into the bedroom, kicks off his cross trainers, then throws off his training outfit. "The way you peel off your spandex shorts, is amazing," he says.

"It makes you amazingly hard, I can see that," she gushes, wide-eyed and grinning. "Which is good because I'm amazingly wet."

He reaches out and takes a feel. "You always were given to understatement. You're not wet, you're drenched."

Linette does her best to darken the room on this late morning. Even with the blinds drawn, thin rays of sun peak through the off-white aluminum slats, casting shadows on the freshly painted white walls. Of course, the faint light of day allows for a clearer view—her smooth, athletic form for him, his solid, raw-boned masculinity for her.

He's humping her topside, loving the sensuous feel of her long legs wrapped around him and the sweet, tangy scent of her smooth skin, glistening with beads of sweat. He bends over and kisses her, scarcely believing he's making love to this lovely woman, one who he helped bring into the world, now grown and moaning with pleasure from what the man who helped create her is doing. This is insane, a part of him screams, and yet it's that very "insanity" that seems to be driving him to accelerate the pile-driving pace of his cock.

"Daddy, I know I said this last time," she cries out, "but it's worth repeating. I can't get enough of you!"

In this moment, in this passionate, impossibly electric moment, he feels the same way. He responds with "I'm all yours, baby" and "I love you," and when she climaxes moments later, he repeats those lines as his gonads burst forth, shooting the sticky stuff into her, the stuff that helped create her when he was a young buck of her age, then never dreaming that twenty-four years later he'd feel, if only for a few magical moments, like that young buck once again.

"So much for same time next year," he says. He holds her from behind, tenderly kissing her neck as they sit up against a side wall.

She chuckles. "There's no way I could have waited that long. And from the way you just made love to me, I doubt you could've either. It's more like same time next week." He nods in agreement just as her cell, sitting on her night table, goes off. "I'll let it go into voice mail."

"No, you can get it," he insists.

It's Cassie Chunko wanting to know how it went with "the Viking" after the dance. "Did you, you know, consummate?"

"Hi Cassie. Um, well..." She looks at Drake, holding her hand over the speaker. He takes the hint, climbs out of bed and heads for the bathroom to take a shower. In subdued voice, she continues. "Yes, we consummated. Not only that, we just did it again after a rowing workout. The Viking is quite a cox-swain. Pun intended."

"Ohmygod, Linnie, that's fascinating! That's hot stuff!"

"So is what we did in the bathroom at the Hillandale. Those girls robbed me of an orgasm."

"Looks like you made up for it, though."

"Well, sort of."

"Sort of?"

"I'm getting hot just thinking about that night. Truth be told, I wouldn't mind if we got together again."

"You're kidding. That was just to tide you over, to give you some relief."

"And that's the way I saw it, too. But, honestly, it was one of the most erotic experiences I've ever had. The spontaneity of it, the neat way you played your fingers inside my pussy, the sight of your massive boobs hanging out. It was so unexpected—and so wonderful. I mean, I'm no lesbian and I know you're not either. Talk about fascinating. As I recall, you got off on what we were doing as well, massaging your boobs with your fingers inside me."

"I'd look silly denying it. I'm not sure what girl, confirmed lezzie or not, wouldn't have been turned on." She sighs. "I can still picture you leaning against that sink, moaning and rocking back and forth, the dreamy, seductive look on your face. Had we the time and privacy, I have no doubt things would have escalated. Geez, Linnie, I'm lying here with my hand shoved inside my panties, picturing, almost feeling your tongue on my so-called massive boobs."

Linette would love to continue this phone sex. However, she no longer hears the water running. "Look, my dad just got out of the shower. We'll discuss this later."

Moments later, her pink robe thrown around her, she greets him when he comes back into her bedroom, dried and wearing his green Hanes briefs. She thinks he looks damn sexy, what with his hairy chest and his beard that appears to be growing thicker. "Looks like you're pushing the envelope of your bank's appearance code with that beard."

"Per your suggestion." He sits beside her on the bed. "So how's Cassie Chunko?"

"Oh, she's fine," Linette says, running a hand through his damp hair. "Dad, before you go, you better use my hair dryer. You don't want mom asking more questions."

He nods. "You're right, I don't." Pause. "Does Cassie know what we're doing?" Linette looks down and grins. "You said something, didn't you?"

She cups a hand around one of his muscled shoulders, unable to tell if his expression is one of mirth or admonishment. It looks like a cross between the two. "Please don't be mad at me."

He kisses her on the cheek. "I'm not mad. I just hope it doesn't somehow get back to your mom."

"It won't. Cassie and I are tight. We're each other's confidants. We can keep secrets."

He relaxes his shoulders, then tucks his hand inside her robe, placing it on her thigh. "So what was her reaction? She must have been horrified."

"Quite the contrary, actually. She finds it fascinating, her word. Interesting is also how she describes it." She watches his look of skepticism. "No, really."

He raises an eyebrow and grins. "The confidant part I can believe. Darryl and I thought you and Cass would never come out of that bathroom at Hillandale."

She turns away and guffaws.

He flashes a clueless look. "Did I miss something?"

'That's putting it mildly,' she thinks, and laughs some more. "Well, it's like Mr. Chunko joked, we held a little convention. We're women, it's what we do." Part of her wants to tell him what happened, just to see his reaction. Out of loyalty to her "confidant," she won't.

He pats her on her leg, then stands up. "Well, it's time I get moving. Remember to call your mom," he says before heading back to the bathroom to dry his hair.

*****

"Might as well get this over with," Linette says, only minutes after Drake is out the door.

"Hi mom. Dad said you wanted to speak with me?"

"Well, yes. First of all, how did the rowing go?"

"It went great. Perfect weather, perfect conditions."

"Is your father still there?"

"He just left."

"He JUST left? You must have rowed to China. It's close to noon."

"We didn't go that far, mom. Just to Bermuda and back."

"Ha ha. Seriously."

"Seriously? We had fun. Is this what you wanted to talk about?"

"Didn't dad tell you?"

"Not exactly."

"Not exactly? What EXACTLY did he say then?"

Oh boy. "Just that you questioned him about what we did after the dance." Pause. Testily, she continues. "Kind of what you seem to be doing with me now, mom. Is there an issue here?"

"You tell me."

"Tell you what?"

"Look, I know your father and you were always close. But there's close and then there's CLOSE."

"Where's this going?"

"Where's it gone, you mean."

"Mom, if you've got something to say to me, then say it. I hate when you start this vague, circuitous bullshit with me." She's almost mad enough to admit what she knows Elaine is getting at, just for spite.

"All I can say is that you two must have danced awfully close at the Hillandale. Your scent was all over him. More than that, the scent of sex was all over him."

"The scent of sex? And what's that smell like? Describe it."

"Like you don't know."

"Mom, I'll confess to one thing. We danced close. Fully clothed, I might add. So what?"

"Like I said, there's close and then there's close. Too close. Unnaturally close."

"The nature of the unnatural, you mean." Linette giggles to herself.

"The nature of the...What's that supposed to mean?"

"Look mom, you're talking to the wrong person. You seem to have issues that have nothing to do with me. Take it up with dad."