We made it to the theatre that evening and afterwards we ate noodles at a small restaurant in China Town. Then, we went back to the hotel and we made love again. He slowly undressed me this time. His kisses were long and wet as I undid the buttons on his shirt and helped him out of his trousers. Eddie lay me out on the bed before him and then started kissing and licking me from my toes upwards. My legs quivered with excitement when his tongue reached between my legs, and ever so softly, ever so gently, he started licking inside me. I moaned with pleasure and he mounted me. His cock sliced through me, as beautiful as glittering shards of glass. In the morning, we made love yet again. He was taking me higher and higher, releasing me from myself. I couldn't get enough of him or him of me, but a little voice was murmuring that the sex would be an addiction I could live to regret. As I listened to Eddie singing in the shower, a chill ran up my spine at the realization that I had now had sex with both my fathers. It was such a surreal thought. But I didn't want to look at whether it was right or wrong. I was an adult, I told myself, and so was Eddie. We were attracted to each other, and although he was my father in blood, he had not raised me. We were strangers.
"I could have met him in a pub or club and then slept with him," I muttered to myself as I sat up in bed to light a cigarette. "I might have fucked with him and never even known he was my father." I chuckled at that thought.
Sin Does Not Exist
