What Have I Done - Part 1

Okay, this is definitely a first for me. There's a great set of stories that were first published in 2011. Not by me, but a different writer who goes by the name of bingabangaloo. () so far, there's a total of four published works of erotica you'll find at that link.

There's two entitled, "What Have I Done." with a part One, and part Two. And just like I did, I'm suggesting YOU should read them as well.

1. What Have I Done,

2. What Have I Done: The Morning After,

I tried contacting the original writer, but alas never received a response. I did it because I've written an addition to the series. And I believe it's worthy enough to be shared with everyone. BUT, if you're gonna read my followup, you really should check out parts 1&2 first. Both stories are relatively short, and combined, they're only about 4,000 words.

Okay, so I hope, before checking out my "What Have I Done - A Continuation", you'll do as I recommend. You won't regret it.

But remember, this is erotic fiction, and all characters are above the age of eighteen. Also don't forget to be good to everyone. Especially those closest to you, none of us are going to be around forever.

Mr_Brady :-)

What Have I Done - A Continuation

Sunday morning

Oh fuck, NO!

Wrapped in a towel, my wife Sandra had just got out of the shower and caught me in bed fucking our daughter, Gabrielle.

As the three of us continued our blank staring at one another, undoubtedly overwhelmed by what she saw, Sandra started screaming, "You rotten bastard, what the hell are you doing with our daughter?" After rambling and muttering a few other things, seeming totally discombobulated, my wife quickly dressed before grabbing her personal set of keys to our SUV, and briskly scrambled out the door.

With Gabrielle and I still lying in bed together, she turned and told me, "Dad, I tried telling you this wasn't a good idea. Now, what are we gonna do?"

With our vacation coming to a screeching halt, as far as I knew none of us heard from Sandra until she came back to the hotel around six o'clock that evening. Considering my son Mitchell never asked anything about his mother's whereabouts, I felt quite sure he, and his friend Tom had found out what had happened.

After her return, my wife didn't speak ONE word to me the rest of the night. Anything she wanted me to know, was relayed through Mitchell, or Tom. With the heated glares she gave our daughter, it was no secret, Sandra was definitely pissed at her too.

As it was the second night of our stay, the hotel came through with their guarantee to have our third suite available. And, just like mine and Sandra's room, had one kingsize bed. It was also the third in line, and had a connecting door to Mitchell and Tom's room.

With very little interaction between me and Sandra after her anything but tranquil return, it was about ten o'clock that night when she defiantly announced she was going to go sleep in the third suite. Intentionally ignoring me, when she told our son goodnight, I watched her give him a kiss on the cheek. As Tom was standing right next to his friend, definitely aware of everything that caused the rift between us, rubbing salt in the wound, he tried coming off innocent by telling her, "Gee Mrs. Parker, I really hope you have a good night's rest. And, if my being here's causing any problems; well, I just hope it isn't."

Giving an exasperated smile to our tagalong, Sandra responded, "Nonsense Tom, you were invited to come with us. And you're a good friend to Mitch. I'm just sorry you got caught up in all of...this." Pulling his face down to hers, somewhat similar to what she'd done for our son, I knew Sandra's longer than normal kiss on the cheek to Tom, was her way of telling me, 'fuck you.'

And I couldn't miss Tom's excited look once my beautiful wife's kiss, came dangerously close to his lips.

But, witnessing it only helped stir a greater annoyance, even a jealousy inside me. I was angry because that asshole caused the problem in the first place. If he wouldn't have fucked Gabrielle, and I hadn't gotten involved, getting an eyeful of my beautiful daughter's tits and pussy, well, the five of us would still be having a good time.

And since he'd had his way with Gabby, as far as I knew, he probably had his sights set on Sandra too. If something like that were even be possible. Little did I know what kind of a instigator he'd turn out to be.

With Gabrielle standing next to me, Sandra grabbed a few of her things, and tramped off by herself to the third suite. Overcome by the reality of her mother's sudden absence, my daughter gave me a bewildered look. And I immediately understood the obvious conundrum. With Mitchell and Tom in the next room, and Sandra going off on her own, was it expected that Gabrielle and I would...sleep together?

As that thought rolled around in my head, I wondered what would be possible if we were in bed together again. Remembering the euphoria of my daughter's pussy, just the thought of being inside her once more...brought hope that maybe this time we could do more. And if I could prove my pussy eating prowess...she just might...oh my gawd...suck her father's cock!

With those wild imaginings running rampant in my head, there came a loud knock to the door. Because of its timbre, I knew it had to be my wife.

As the knocking turned insistent, I heard Sandra's voice, "Let me in...let me in there...right now!" I guess it was a pipe dream that she was coming back to tell me we needed to talk, and clear everything up between us. Because it wasn't what happened. After my opening the door, she stormed in. As if I was persona non grata, she told Gabrielle, "And if your father even thinks I'd be stupid enough to leave you two alone...well, that isn't going to happen!"

Standing alone, after having Gabrielle snatched away from me, with nothing else to do, I decided to eavesdrop on whatever conversation my daughter and wife might have. Exiting my room, I quietly walked down the hallway to outside their suite. Immediately hearing voices behind their door, I put my ear to it. As I hoped my snooping would get me the results I wanted, after they traded a few incomprehensible remarks, I distinctly heard Sandra exasperatingly ask...

"Dear God, Gabby, what...what were you thinking? Why would you do something like that...with your own father?"

Even on my side of the door, I sensed the obvious tension in the room, hearing my daughter's rationalization for what happened...

"Okay, mom, I never came on to dad, or even wanted him to do it. You gotta understand, I kept telling him 'no' but he wouldn't listen. He just kept insisting, even after I tried telling him, NO!"

Even as I listened to Gabby's answer outside in the hallway, at that moment I was thinking with a much clearer head, realizing I'd come close to raping my daughter. But remembering how she'd ultimately joined in, I still couldn't help believing there was a part of her...that after we'd begun, didn't want it to stop.

And yet, Sandra didn't sound convinced, "But that isn't what happened, was it? When I woke up and your dad said something about you couldn't go to sleep in the other room, I'm still not exactly sure how you ended up sleeping with us. But I NEVER raised you to do something so...crazy like that. And your dad, I mean, what was going through his head, with me in the shower, doing something so...so...stupid?"

For a moment, there was a dead silence in the room. But knowing how Sandra is, just like she's done with me thousands of times, I could only assume she was giving our daughter the evil eye, once she'd stopped haranguing her.

"Mom, I even tried getting him to jack himself off in the bathroom...but...he wouldn't."

"Yeah, your father's always had a really strong sex-drive. But he had to know I wouldn't be too long in the shower. And...that still doesn't excuse either one of you, after I'd left the room."

As I could hear Gabrielle trying to give her mother tit-for-tat, she angrily responded, "Hmphh, if that's the case, and dad's horny all the time, you're not gonna like me saying this...but it sounds as if you're not giving him all he needs, Mom."

Knowing that would definitely set Sandra off, she responded with, "Don't you even dare say something like that, young lady...whenever your father's...needed me...in that way...I've always..."

Probably sensing she had the upper hand, Gabrielle immediately cut in, "Oh yeah, if you woulda let dad fuck you last night, we probably wouldn't be in this mess right now..."

—SLAP— was the next thing I heard. And after that...more dead silence. Hoping a cat-fight wasn't about to break out between my wife and daughter in their room, I heard Gabrielle...

"But you might as well know this too, not that I'm happy with what happened, but in all fairness to dad, the reason I ended up in bed with you guys is I thought the two of you were sleeping...and he caught me with Tom."

"Wait...what? You had sex...with Tom? Was that before, or after what happened with your dad?"

"Mom, everything that went on last night was kinda crazy. And I guess I'm really not sure when..."

If there was anything about my wife, I knew she'd never been naive. And as she asked her next question, I could tell she definitely wanted to know more...

"Wow Gabby...so you're telling me you and Tom had sex last night. But when I woke up the first time and you were already in bed with us. Tell me, what were you and your dad doing?"

Even with the silence, if Gabby was going to be totally honest, I suddenly realized if Sandra found out what else we'd done, it would damn me to holding a pitchfork, standing in my own special eternal hellfire...

"We were..."

"Go on Gabrielle...let's just get it out there...you might as well tell me everything now..."

"Mom, we were doing it...dad was...fucking me..."

Even from my side of the door, I heard my wife's sharp gasp.

"HE was...fucking YOU? Are you sure it wasn't the other way around?"

"Mom, I swear on everything that's holy, I didn't ask dad...after he caught me with Tom...and he made me sleep with you guys...it just kinda...happened."

"So, tell me if I've got this right Gabby. While I was sleeping right next to you guys, you just happened to spread your legs...and your dad just happened to have sex with you? Do I got it right? Is that how it went down?"

"Mom...I...just listen...please..."

"And then this morning, when I got my shower, did you kiss him, and then suck his cock, so it would be nice and hard, when he just happened to fuck you again? Because if you did, I guess you know how much he loves that."

Even as I stood on my side of the door, hearing Sandra's anger, and her rare use of the F-word, I detected her frustration of the events as they were being laid out. Even if it was our daughter filling her in on all the details, I still hoped whatever wrath I'd get from Sandra, would be quick...and relatively painless.

"No mom... he never asked me to do that...I mean...that never happened."

"But if he would've...if your father wanted you to do it...what are you saying Gabby...are you so loose that...you'd do that for him...take his dick in your mouth?"

"Mom...please...it wasn't like that..."

"Holy hell...I'm gonna need a drink. This shit's really messing up my head.

Slowly ambling back to where I would sleep alone, I knew I'd severely messed up, falling to temptation. I was also hoping my wife hadn't tried calling a divorce lawyer after storming out of the hotel that morning.

**********

Monday, seven A.M.

As if it was a curse from the gods, because I'd fucked my own daughter, waking up alone in my bed, I heard the rain blasting down on the roof of the hotel. There were even a few times it turned into a torrential downpour. And with the weather turning out so crummy, it ruined that day's sightseeing agenda. Not that it mattered, because after Sandra caught me with Gabrielle, all of those plans were basically cancelled anyway. So, with everything changed on that Monday, over the hours we were essentially stuck indoors, being ignored by Sandra, she spent many of those moments with Mitch, and his friend Tom. And during that time, I couldn't help but notice, my wife's alcohol consumption.

Thinking back to our early years together, we'd originally met as sixteen year old teenagers, I'd noticed Sandra had one, particular vice. She liked to drink. When we were eighteen and got married, and we partied, whether at our apartment, or somewhere else, her go-to choice for liquor, was gin. And when she'd imbibe, whether it was straight, or mixed with some kind of fruit juice, many of those times she'd lose her inhibitions (just like her own mother) and release the wild tigress that normally slept inside her. Even after we'd had our two kids, there'd been rare instances at parties, or get-togethers my wife continued doing something I thought she'd stopped after we'd tied the knot. When she was tipsy, there were episodes of her coming on to other men. Flagrantly flirting with some of the husbands in our group of friends. But thankfully the other wives understood it wasn't her, but the alcohol influencing her do it.

And I knew it too. Blessed with a pretty face, Sandra's always been attractive, even if the years have given her a couple of extra pounds, and light crow's feet around those fetching blue eyes, she's still got an impressive figure. Slender with great legs, connecting to shapely hips and a curvaceous ass.

Whenever she wants, my blonde, forty-one year old wife still comes off looking amazing. I've seen it over the years, just a few minutes in front of the mirror, a little mascara (she's never used much cosmetics) the right blouse, exposing her significant cleavage, along with a tight skirt, and there's a lot of men who'd follow her off a cliff; if it's what she wanted.

Because Gabrielle closely resembles her mother (they both have dark blonde, over the shoulders hair) it's probably the main reason I was stupidly attracted to her, too. Well, there is one major difference between them. Sandra's breasts (according to her bra size) are 38c. And our daughter's, (seeing them firsthand) are exquisitely smaller. Most likely around 32's.

So, nearly all of that Monday, I tried staying mostly off to myself, while Sandra and the boys did their own thing in the same suite she'd slept in the night before. Oh, and she'd started drinking, too.

While the rain still hadn't let up, it was about four o'clock that afternoon when the small amount she had on hand ran out. 'Only for emergencies' Sandra would assure me, she'd always carried a pint bottle when we traveled. As I was in the first suite, there was Gabby napping in the second one, where her brother and his asshole friend had slept.

As Tom and Mitchell had been hanging out with his Mom, in the third suite, playing random card games and watching cable tv most of the day, because all of our sliding doors were open, I'd heard Sandra, definitely sounding a little tipsy...

"Okay, who's gonna be a good boy and head off to the liquor store for me? The weatherman's saying this downpour isn't going to let up till probably, Thursday...sooo, momma's gonna need a little somethin' to keep this trip from turning to shit."

Even if I'd done the indefensible by screwing our daughter, and getting caught, there was something about Sandra wanting more booze that concerned me. Walking the short distance to the third suite, I found her lying facedown, turned opposite on the bed. But what really got me a little ticked off was my wife allowing Tom's hand to rest a little too familiarly on her shoulder, sitting at the foot of the same bed right next to her.

After noting my presence in the room, along with her staring directly at me, as if I wasn't even there, she told our son, "Mitch, make sure your dad gives you enough money to get me one of those bigger bottles. And honey, you know, when momma drinks, it's always gin, right? I'm thinking the bottle needs to be 750 milliliters, or something like that. And you'll probably need at least forty dollars. Tell your dad, if he was too stupid to have the cash on hand, then he should give you his debit card. Mine's in my purse, but right now, I'm too damn lazy to get up and look for it."

As our eyes locked, not wanting to rile Sandra, and not questioning her decision, like a stupid schmuck, as Mitch reached for it, I handed over my bankcard. Yeah, I knew Sandra was mad at me. And I guess I couldn't blame her. But the things she said next, just like her kissing Tom on the cheek was meant to piss me off, she showed I wasn't anywhere close to getting out of the doghouse.