As I descended the stairs, a strange mixture of emotions ebbed and flowed through me. Physically, I was unsteady, wobbly on legs that felt as if they had run a thousand miles. Sexually, I was sated, but the pump was still primed and that gave me a charged feeling nonetheless. My release had been complete, and I felt drained in a good, comfortable way.
Even so, I was still an emotional wreck. I was still embarrassed about what happened in the car. I had a feeling that he knew that I was masturbating in the shower, too, even if he probably wouldn’t have thought in his wildest dreams how I was doing it, or why. I felt like I needed to go and apologize – but for what? I mean, not only did I not have a clue what to say, but what would I be apologizing for?
Gee dad, so sorry that I got my mouth stuck on your gigantic cock dildo and couldn’t answer right away.
As I reached the bottom of the stairs, I heard his voice. He was on the phone, but he didn’t seem happy. My self-absorption gave way to the drama unfolding.
“What are you saying, exactly?” I heard him say, tension rising in his voice.
I kept myself very quiet, walking towards the room but trying to stay out of sight. I was barefoot, which helped keep me silent.
“Hold on, hold on,” he said, a note of worry creeping in. “What do you mean, you can’t find it?”
I peeked around the corner. He was pacing in the kitchen, and he ran his hand through his dark blond hair. He gritted his teeth, and spoke into the phone so quietly, so intensely, that I couldn’t hear exactly what he was saying.
“You better… don’t want to hear it… if she finds it…”
My heart jumped into my throat. What was he talking about? Was that my Mom? Was this about the video?
“Look, I can’t talk about this right now,” he said, suddenly loud and clear. “Shannon’s here today, and I’ve got to go.” A pause. “Yes, Shannon.” Another pause. “I don’t want to hear it. I’ve. Got. To. Go.”
Despite being on edge because of his mood, I took a relieved breath. Okay, so it wasn’t my mom. She knew I was here already, obviously. So who was it? What got him so riled up? Was it a “work” thing?
He looked at his phone, and sighed. “Look, Tracy is calling. I’ve got to go. Just find it.”
He tapped a button on his phone, and answered. “Hey babe,” he said.
Babe?
“Yeah,” he continued. “It’s all good. I think she’s excited to meet you too. How long before you get here?”
Wait, what? Who’s this Tracy person, and she’s on her way? I just got here!
I stepped out from behind the wall into view. He noticed me, his facing breaking out in a grin and did a slight head nod, as if to say hello, before refocusing on his conversation. “Great. See you soon. Drive safe.”
He hung up, and I went to the fridge to find something to drink. “Who’s Tracy?” I asked, with more of an edge to my voice than intended.
He looked at me funny. “I told you. She’s someone I’ve been dating,” he said.
I shook my head. “You didn’t tell me you were dating anyone,” I challenged. I felt a bit of annoyance and anger creeping in. Where was this coming from?
“Shannon,” he said, confused. “We just talked about this in the car on the way up. I told you that I was seeing a woman named Tracy and that I wanted you to meet her.”
I opened my mouth to protest, and then closed it again. The car ride was a blur. I had been in my own world, not really listening to what he had been saying. I remembered saying, “Yeah,” and “Uh huh,” and “Sure,” from time to time, but it’s not like he ever said anything important, right?
His face became unreadable. “Maybe you were too distracted,” he said, his eyes a bit colder.
Ouch. I swallowed. So he had noticed. It didn’t seem like a good idea to press my disadvantage at the time. Plus, whatever had happened on that previous call had obviously irritated him, and while he never got overtly angry, he did get moody.
I got some juice from the fridge. “So,” I began, trying to move on, forcing my voice to become more upbeat, “when does Tracy get here?”
“About a half hour,” he said. “Christ, this place is a wreck.”
He began clearing items off the counters and table. My father wasn’t a rich man, and couldn’t afford help to keep his bachelor pad cleaned by a maid or service. I started to help him clear up. At least it wasn’t full of half-empty pizza boxes and empty beer cans. Or bottles. Or whatever.
As we straightened up he told me a bit about Tracy, and I tried my best to fill in the gaps of what he was telling me and what he thought I knew from the conversation in the car. I was too ashamed to admit that I hadn’t been listening to a single word, so I tried to pay as much attention as possible now. I felt like I was cramming for an exam in the class period before the one with the test.
I learned that Tracy was an old friend that he had come back into contact through work. She was an inspector who happened to be assigned to one of my father’s construction jobs, and when they recognized each other they decided to grab a drink and catch up. Soon the after-work drinks were a daily occurrence, and before long they were dating.
“That’s one of the reasons why I suggested you come up here this weekend,” my father said. “I mean, you don’t have to come up any more now that you’re eighteen, but this seemed like a good excuse to have you here again.”
I know he didn’t mean to do it, but I suddenly felt extremely sad, and not just a little bit guilty.
My father and I had never really clicked. As I was growing up he wasn’t around much, as his construction jobs tended to take him from place to place for months at a time. I didn’t really know what he did that made him so unavailable, but to be absolutely truthful, I hadn’t really cared. My father was more of a nomad than I could ever be, and over the years I found it difficult to find common ground with him.
It wasn’t as if he was an absentee father, either. He was around about as much as any divorced dad would be, I guess, even though my parents had never been married. I didn’t really understand the relationship all that well, but it seemed to work for all of us.
I never really thought much about it, if I was completely honest with myself. After all, it wasn’t as if I had gone out of my way to build anything stronger. Now, though, I was wondering if perhaps I had played a larger role in the distance between us than I originally thought.
It suddenly dawned on me that I had thought about him more in the past week, as a father, than I probably did in the past year.
“So,” he continued, wiping down the countertops, “I don’t know when you’ll come up here again, so I figured it was a really good time to introduce you two.”
Despite everything, I felt angry at the intrusion of a stranger, and I felt annoyed with myself for not paying attention in the car. Without consciously realizing it, I had set myself up for some alone-time with my father, and had come to anticipate… what? What did I think was going to happen? I was going to get my own father to seduce his young, virgin 18-year-old daughter?
You trite, cliché little bitch, I thought.
I looked at my father with a different lens. What did I want? He was a handsome man – extremely handsome, from an objective point of view – but did I want to fuck him? I mean, really?
That little voice that had been pushed out of the room while I was sucking on that cock in the shower suddenly tapped me on the shoulder again. “I’m back!” it seemed to say.
Why are you even asking yourself this question?
Because I have to know.
And what will you do with the answer to that question, if the answer is ‘yes’?
I don’t know.
My inner debate was interrupted by the doorbell. He suddenly perked up, his eyes alight with excitement. He was so cute. My affection for him was marred by a sudden, unfamiliar, and yet darker sensation. Was this jealousy?
“She’s here!” he said, suddenly animated. “Okay, are you okay?”
I nodded.
“Okay,” he said, rubbing his hands on his jeans. I had never seen him like this before. He obviously liked this Tracy person. “Okay. Okay? Okay.”
“Dad,” I said. He looked at me, questioningly. “The door?”
I indicated the direction of the door, and he started in surprise. It was as if he had just seen one for the first time in his life. “Oh, right!” he said. “Of course!”
It was amusing, I have to say. He was over six feet tall, but like a little boy trying to calm himself and look respectable. He finally managed to get the door and get himself sorted. He opened the door, and said as nonchalantly as possible, “Come in, come in!”
Tracy walked into the room, and my mouth dropped open. I mean, literally dropped open.
It was Redd.
Not a lookalike, but actually, in honest-to-god living reality, Redd. From-the-video Redd. Standing in the doorway. Right in front of me.
Redd, I mean Tracy, was drop dead gorgeous. She had maintained that ‘girl-next-door’ look, and the twenty years since the video had been remarkably kind to her. If anything, she had an air of more sophistication.
Believe it or not, my first thought was not about how surreal the situation was, or how mind-bogglingly unprepared I was to cope with this, but rather of Simone. I was convinced Simone has somehow, in some way, managed to fuck with me again.
She will own you.
Once again, I was allowing Simone to live in my head. I was convinced that this was her doing. I couldn’t possibly imagine how she did it, or how it’s possible to fuck with someone so completely, but she must have done it. It could not be a coincidence!
Tracy approached me, smiled warmly, and opened her arms for a warm embrace. “Shannon!” she said, her enthusiasm genuine and approachable. “It’s so nice to finally meet you!”
As I recovered from the shock of seeing her in reality, not to mention having my space invaded, I returned her hug. I kind of fell into it, much to my surprise. There was something about her, something about her body that felt… right. She was just a little taller than I was, and I felt muscles under her soft skin as her bare arms wrapped around me. Her breasts came just above mine (or rather, where mine should have been), and she smelled of faint, spicy perfume.
I couldn’t help it. My mind flashed back to the video and her scene. I remember how I had liked her immediately, especially after the bitch of a brunette who treated him like a chore.
Somehow she managed to vibrate the room with genuine friendliness. She was elegant, poised, and charming in an approachable way. I couldn’t help it – I immediately liked her.
Plus I had dreamt about having sex with her.
Oh god oh god…
“Shannon, are you okay?” my father asked.
I could only imagine the frozen face that I had plastered in place. I tried to relax enough to look like a normal human being. “Oh, yes,” I said. I looked at Tracy and told her the truth. “You’re stunningly gorgeous.”
It was a flat statement, not really meant as a compliment. I was rather commenting on a fact. It was like saying, Oh, you painted your house.
Nevertheless, Tracy blushed. “Thank you,” she said, looking from me to my dad and back again. “That’s really nice of you to say.”
“Come, come!” My father ushered us back into the kitchen, beaming. “We’re just about to have some lunch. Are you hungry?”
Together, we started preparing food and got engaged in all kinds of conversations. I thought these kinds of things were supposed to be awkward, but it simply didn’t happen that way. In fact, I found myself growing more comfortable with her, and faster, than with anyone I think I’d ever met. I could see within moments just why my father was so smitten with her. The lunch started to turn into an hour, then two, and then time didn’t seem to matter.
It was hard, though, not to remember the video of her naked, riding my father like a possessed banshee cowgirl. Unbidden, I felt a moistness between my legs, a growing hunger in places that shouldn’t have been for a casual conversation. Without intending to, I flashed back to my dream, where she had caressed my chest, rubbing my nipples.
Oh god, my nipples!
Reflexively, I looked down and saw in horror that my little peaks on my chest were as obvious as ever. I had been sitting at the table for… how long? 2 hours? 3 hours? With my tits just making themselves known to the whole world?
Hello! Don’t mind Shannon, she’s clueless. So, how’s the weather where you live?
“Let’s move to the couch,” I suggested, and then got up from the table before anyone could say anything.
I grabbed the recliner chair and took one of the throw pillows, hugging it tightly to my chest. I wanted to bury my head into the pillow in shame, but I knew that would just bring more attention to them.
There was more small talk, and then my shame overwhelmed me and I couldn’t stay exposed like that any longer.
“Excuse me for a second,” I said, suddenly, making a decision and breaking the conversation. “I’ll be right back.”
I got up and crossed my arms and ran across the room to the stairs. I didn’t even stop to hear a response. As I got to the stairs, I went into the bathroom again, and stood in front of the mirror looking at my chest.
What I saw horrified me. Two protruding peaks, pointing straight out from the small lumps of my chest, were only slightly less distracting than a car crash. Instinctively, I put my hands against my chest, and in desperation, pressed against them.
As a method of hiding them from sight, it worked wonders. As a means of getting them to go down, it was useless. They seemed to have a life of their own, and giving them attention was the absolutely worst thing to do. They soaked up the attention and responded as I should have expected. My pussy did too.
Even so, I had to get them to go down, or at least just not be so prominent. I couldn’t stay here in the bathroom all day. Or could I? I seriously contemplated how I could get away with that.
A soft knock on the door made me jump. “Shannon?” It was Redd. “Can I come in?”
My eyes grew wide in terror. “Um,” I said, frantically. “I’ll just be a minute!”
“Shannon,” she said through the door. “I think I might be able to help.”
I didn’t know what to do. Despite my comfort around her downstairs, I had just met her. She… she…
Before I knew it, I was reaching for the doorknob and slowly opened the door, one hand still draped across my chest. She stood there, looking concerned, but smiling anyway.
“Oh, sweetie,” she said. “Come here.”
She entered the bathroom, and took me in her arms in another embrace. She seemed to like hugging. A lot.
I turned my head as she held me, my chin resting on the shelf of her breasts. Once again the smell of her perfume trickled in through my nose. I realized that I was facing the mirror, and focused my vision on us.
The difference between us was striking. Redd – I mean Tracy, goddamn it! – was drop-dead gorgeous. She had a comfortable, understated sexiness that just seemed natural. By comparison, I looked like a girl trying too hard, wearing too-tight jeans, who was a sexual deviant who hated her body.
Well, maybe I didn’t actually look like that in the mirror, but I certainly felt that way. How could I not when I was standing, quite literally, next to perfection?
Her fuller breasts pressed against my chest in the embrace, and seemed to rest on the top of my nipple buds. When she breathed, or when I breathed, my sensitive flesh moved slightly back and forth. I could feel everything, and it seemed like they simply grew more erect.
She pulled away, and I realized that I was the one holding on to her, not the other way around. I stepped back, a little too quickly. She smiled at me in a semi-conspiratorial way.
“Come on, let me show you a couple of tricks that might help,” she said. “Take off your shirt.”
“Wait, what?” I asked, incredulous.
She paused, and looked at me as if I had been trying to hide a nuclear explosion from the world. “Sweetie,” she said calmly. “We both know why you’ve locked yourself away. Come on, I can help you.”
I hesitated, and she reached for my waist. Before I knew what was happening, she grabbed my hips, turned me towards the mirror, and stepped behind me. I felt her fingers brush against my flesh and she curled her fingers under the hem of my shirt, and pulled it up and over my head in one whoosh.
My face flushed in embarrassment. My nipples were poking through the lace bra. It was as if they had found a way to find the best position between the lacy parts in order to get constant stimulation. Now they were open for all (well, me and Tracy, at least) to see.
“Oh my,” Tracy said, admiringly. “Have you hit the jackpot.”
I was totally confused. “What? What do you mean?”
“A lot of guys will like your tiny, perky nipples. They love to suck on titties like yours,” she said. She leaned in quickly and whispered in my ears, “Some girls, too!”
I felt a strange, dizzying sense of deja-vu at her words. I felt my head beginning to spin, but before I could wrap my mind around my confusion, she straightened back up and fiddled with my bra clasp. In one quick motion my bra fell away from my body but got hung up on my nipples. The bra dangled in front of my chest as if they were on hooks. I was mortified.
Reflexively, I raised my hands to my chest, but she had already grabbed the loose straps of the bra and pulled it away. Suddenly I didn’t really know what to do with my hands.
“The first trick you can do,” she said, getting back to business, “is try to warm them up. Take your hands and rub them together to create some friction, like this.”
She reached around my shoulders with her arms and placed her hands together in front of me. I had a surreal view looking at our reflection in the mirror, and instinctively I lowered my arms to give her space. She quickly rubbed her hands together.
I knew what was happening, and I knew what was going to happen. My nipples, for certain, wanted it to happen.
Then it did happen. She flattened her warm, well-frictioned hands to my chest, my nipples centered directly in the middle of her palms.
Fire and electricity covered my chest. A sharp, exciting flash of heat spread out from her hands and seemed to engulf my torso. My nipples vibrated in ecstasy, and my pussy screamed for relief. It seemed to plead with me, My turn! Me, next!
And then the sharpness of the heat was gone. It lasted a mere moment, probably not even a second, a gunshot of a shockwave and then I felt a general, comforting soothing feeling on my breasts. I had the vague sensation of her breasts pushing into my bare back, keeping me in place.
She began making slight circular motions with her palms. “When your hands are warm enough,” she said, “just make small circles with them around your nipples, and they should go down.”
I realized that I had been holding my breath, and when I released it, a breathy moan came out as well.
She paused, and I looked at her face in the mirror. She cocked her head. “Do you have really sensitive nipples?” she asked, a smile struggling to form across her lips.
I nodded. I found that speaking was too difficult.
“Well, then,” she said, pulling her hands from my chest. “Perhaps this technique won’t work quite so well for you.”
As she took her hands away, my chest and nipples felt a genuine sense of abandonment. I wanted her to keep doing what she was doing for… for… oh god, I don’t know if I ever wanted that to stop. My world was spinning in desire, but she was all business. My confusion threatened to start a small panic in me. Was I reading into something more than just friendly advice?
“Fortunately,” she said, “we still have options.” She began looking in drawers, cabinets, and shelves. I stood there, my hands sitting in front of my navel, looking dumbly at my reflection. My skinny, naked, flushed chest, bare and desperately wanting to be touched again, and yet wanting to be covered and safe. It took unbearable willpower to prevent myself from touching them.
She sighed, exasperated. “Men!” she complained. “They never have what you need when – ah, there it is!”
She reached in and grabbed a small pair of scissors. I flinched, not knowing what she was planning on doing with them.
She placed them on the counter, and then reached for her purse. When did she bring that in here? My lack of observation skills was disturbing.
Her purse wasn’t big, but seemed to have all the contents of a fully-stocked warehouse. Finally, she found what she was looking for. “Aha!” she exclaimed, and pulled out a maxi-pad.
“Always, always have one of these on hand,” she said, grinning. “Even if you’re not on your cycle, you never know when it will come in handy.”
She reached for the small scissors, which looked like they were for grooming facial hair. On a hamster.
She shrugged. “Make do with what you’ve got, right?” she said. “Put your bra back on,” she said.
I did as I was told. With that, she started cutting the maxi pad in half. It was slow going, as the scissors struggled to get through the inner padding. Eventually, however, she managed to have two roughly equal pieces.
“Okay,” she said, maneuvering back into place behind me. Reaching around, she pulled the cup away from my skin, and inserted one of the maxi pad halves. Then she did the same with the other. “Not exactly Victoria’s Secret, but it will do.”
“More like Redneck Secret,” I muttered, and she giggled conspiratorially.
It felt… weird. Wrong, somehow. She started adjusting the pad so that it fit better inside the cup, which only made my nipples confused. They were being touched and stimulated, but not in the way they wanted.
Even so, it was working. I reached for my t-shirt, and put it on. It took a little longer than it should have, as she was so close to me, but it slid over my body and settled into place. Well, almost. She still had her hands on my hips.
But the trick worked. I was skinny enough, and the t-shirt was loose enough, that my nipples couldn’t be seen at all. Well, of course it did – after all, I was simply wearing a padded bra. Literally. A maxi-padded bra. God, I’m such a dork.
I looked at her in the mirror. “Thank you,” I said. I didn’t know what else to say.
“Everything all right up there?” we heard my father call.
Tracy looked towards the door, as if he were right outside. “Everything’s fine,” she shouted back. “I’m coming right down!”
She put her hands on my shoulders and squeezed, smiling at me at the mirror. “See you downstairs,” she said. Grabbing her purse, she left the bathroom and closed the door behind her.
I was still reeling from the encounter. What the fuck just happened?
Was she hitting on me? Or was this just some sort of normal kind of interaction with her? I had only just met her, so was she just being friendly? Trying to make a good impression on her man’s daughter? Was it a generational thing? Was this something that she did with her friends when she was my age?
I was confused. My body was confused. All that attention to my nipples took maybe, oh, five minutes? During that time my sexual engine had started up, but was being kept at a low idle. Then again, it never quite shut off completely, now that I thought about it.
Taking a last look at myself in the mirror, I was impressed at Tracy’s trick. The pads were awkwardly cut because of the crappy scissors, but you would never have known by the way she arranged them in the cups of my bra. Moreover, it had the added benefit of giving my chest just a little more curvature than it did previously. I actually liked the way it looked.
I rejoined Tracy and my dad, and once again the conversation seemed to flow naturally. As the afternoon wore on, they started drinking some wine and grew even more flirtatious with each other. I couldn’t get the feeling of Tracy’s hands on my chest out of my mind, though.
Tracy, however, couldn’t keep her hands off my dad. It started with a bit of flirting and light touching, but she took every opportunity to get closer to him. She leaned against him whenever she laughed at his jokes, rubbing her breast against his upper arm. That soon grew to cuddling,
I felt confused. I was starting to feel like a third wheel, but still enjoyed their company. I wanted to be part of their flirtatious banter, but didn’t know how. I looked out the window and saw that the early spring sun had already set, even though it wasn’t even quite dinner time.
“How about a movie?” I suggested, out of the blue.
“Great idea!” my dad said, a little too enthusiastically. “I’ll order us up a pizza.”
He got up and went into the kitchen to find the take-out menu. Tracy immediately sidled over to me.
“How are you feeling?” she asked.
“Fine,” I said, a bit taken aback by the question.
To my surprise, she pulled the neckline away from my shirt, and peered inside. “The padding is looking good,” she said, enthusiastically. “Oh, this one shifted.”
With that, she reached into my shirt, and moved one of the pads. Her fingertips brushed against my nipple, and I was off to the races again. I was so shocked, I couldn’t stop her or protest, but once my nipple was re-awakened, I only wanted her to do the other one.
“You forgot the other one,” I said, trying to make a joke, and twisted my torso to put my other tit closer to her. She smiled, and reached in and adjusted the pad in the other cup. She did it a bit more slowly, however, and the smile on her face took on a completely different meaning.
“Okay, what do you think? Pepperoni?” he called.
“Sausage!” Tracy countered. She looked directly at me. “I think sausage, tonight.”
I swallowed. My father didn’t pick up on the innuendo, however. “Sausage it is,” he said, dialing the phone.
At that moment, things kicked into such a high gear and everything was a blur. Tracy picked some French movie to watch, which of course meant lots of nudity and sex. The pizza came and we ate, they drank, and I sat on one side of the couch sipping my soda while they cuddled on the other side. Don’t get me wrong – it wasn’t that big of a couch.
Tracy curled up next to my dad, and he draped his arm around her shoulders. I tried watching the movie, but couldn’t help myself. I kept sneaking peaks at what they were doing.
As the movie wore on, Tracy began becoming more brazen. Her hands, which had been lightly resting or tracing my father’s thigh, began to get more assertive. I thought my father would stop her, as I was sitting right next to them and had a front-row seat. He must have thought that the dark room and the flickering light of the TV wasn’t going to provide me with a good enough view, or surely he would have stopped it. Right? Right?
I watched with a mixture of fascination and embarrassment as my father’s cock began to grow underneath his pants. I could have sworn I heard Tracy purr as her hand rested on top of it, not moving except for slight squeezes.
I was watching for too long, and I knew it. My eyes flicked upwards and I saw her looking straight at me. She had a strange look on her face, her smile colored with something else. I snapped my attention back to the main screen.
That didn’t help, of course. The screen was filled with nothing short of soft-core porn, but because there were subtitles and everyone was speaking French, the orgy in front of me was “art.”
It seemed unfair. Everyone was being touched, groped, massaged, molested… except for me. I wanted to be molested, too. Desperately. Even if it was just me, molesting myself.
Maybe that’s what Tracy was doing, in a way. Maybe she was trying to include me? In some twisted, perverted way?
The movie abruptly ended, the orgy fading into credits. I had no idea what I had just watched, as I couldn’t recite the plot or even anything important other than the writhing bodies at the end.
“Well,” I said, faking a yawn. “That was educational.” I hoped my joke would land, but it didn’t.
“Yeah,” my father agreed. “I’m not sure that any of the guys at work would have seen that.”
Tracy sat up, grinning. “You both need to open your minds a bit,” she chided. “Get out of your comfort zone.”
She emphasized the last words, and looked from my dad to me. She had a friendly smile, and winked.
“I – I,” I stuttered. “I think I need to get some sleep.”
My father looked at his watch. “Really?” he asked, surprised. “Don’t you turn into a pumpkin if you go to bed before 1 a.m.?”
“Yeah, well,” I said. “I didn’t sleep very well last night. Sitting here in the dark for two hours just made me sleepy.”
“Okay, Shannon,” my father said. “See you in the morning then.”
Tracy stood up, and opened her arms for an embrace. I took it, once again inhaling her perfume. By this point, it had settled into her skin, and it had a more profound effect on me than I thought. Her breasts rested against my chest once more, and I had the crazy sensation that if I moved my head just a little, I could run my lips across her nipples through her shirt.
It was a brief hug, and when we separated I realized I wanted more. Even so, I took the opportunity to leave the two of them, as gracefully as I could.
Once I was in the room, though, I wasn’t quite sure what to do with myself. I wasn’t actually tired, and I had wanted to stay with them. I wanted to see what Tracy would do. Maybe I should have stayed through another movie. Would she have gone even further? I was kicking myself.
At the same time, I just had to touch myself. Watching Tracy, feeling her fingers across my nipples, seeing my dad’s rock hard cock underneath her hand during the movie – these scenes flipped back across my mind. I reached up under my shirt to pull out the pads, and once again my nipples relished the feeling of the silk lace against them. I pinched and squeezed them, feeling an intense relief. Well, a relief that was quickly followed by a profound hunger for more. My jeans were too tight to slip my hand underneath the waistband, but I really wanted to touch myself.
A devious thought crossed my mind. Perhaps two could play that game. I could go back downstairs, the pads removed from my bra, and I could tease Tracy by showing them poking through my shirt. She obviously wanted to touch them, maybe even suck on them. My mind swooned at the thought.
I determined that I should go back downstairs, tell them that I changed my mind. I’d propose another French movie, let Tracy pick as she seemed to know the best ones. Then we’d see how the flirting would go.
I opened the door to my room, and then went to the top of the stairs. I was about to descend, and had even opened my mouth to tell them I had changed my mind, when I dropped to my knees and hid beneath the bannister wall.
Tracy had my father’s cock out, and was sucking on it.
Fuck me, she doesn’t waste any time.
My heart was pounding in my chest. This was the first time that I had ever seen anyone having sex in real life, outside of my own hands on my own body. In fact, the shock of the experience was so sudden that it didn’t even register that I had just seen my father’s cock – for real.
I suppose that anyone would feel embarrassed to catch people having sex if they weren’t expecting it, perhaps even apologize for interrupting, and then hastily leave. Anyone would do that. It would be the normal thing to do, absolutely normal. And proper. And right. Let them keep their privacy. It was none of my concern. I should go back to my room and pretend that I never saw what I saw. Do not pass go, do not collect $200.
I put my hands on the floor to steady myself, find my balance, and started to raise myself up. Instead of turning to go back to my room, however, I peeked over the railing, and was mesmerized by the sight. They hadn’t moved from the spot, but she had fished out his monster cock and was lovingly giving it all the attention it desperately needed with her mouth. She must have taken it out the moment they heard my bedroom door close.
So risky! I thought. I could have come back down, or come out of my room –
That’s when it hit me. Tracy had counted on me coming out of the room. I bet she wanted me to watch!
It started to dawn on me that this was, in fact, Redd, not just Tracy. Redd was a performer. Redd knew how to seduce. I was watching Redd in action, and she’d been in action all day.
The star of the show, however, was dad’s cock. I had only seen it on the video, or the giant simulacra that was now beckoning me from my room.
I don’t know what I expected, actually. I thought maybe the dildo was exaggerated for effect, or for some “size queen” trophy. But no – my father’s penis was, indeed, that big.
It’s difficult to describe what was going through my mind. I had not expected that the first dick I would ever see would be that large, nor did I think that it would be my father’s. I had always thought that the sight of a live, pulsing, throbbing cock (isn’t that what you’re supposed to call it? Isn’t that the hyperbole that goes with an erect penis?) would strike me with fear and trepidation.
Perhaps it was because I had been watching the video for several days. Perhaps it was because I had already “experienced” the dildo with my hands and mouth. Perhaps I had grown familiar with it in my headspace for so long. Whatever it was, I only felt a sense of curiosity, twinged with admiration, appreciation, and – yes – even pride.
There was a strange sense of detachment, as well. For all of my life, my father was just… my father. He was just there (except when he wasn’t), but there was never anything particularly interesting about him. That is, nothing interesting until this week. Even so, it’s difficult to undo eighteen years of perception in just a single week.
I watched the scene in front of me, though, with some difficulty reconciling all of it. There was my father, yes, but then there was his penis. I was struggling trying to put together the idea that they were one-and-the-same. I had been handling the dildo just like one was supposed to – as a separate thing. But this wasn’t a thing; this was all part of him as a person, as my dad. It was part of my Daddy, and my Daddy was part of it.
And it was beautiful. It looked exactly like the dildo (well, duh! it was made from him, after all!), but there were different shades of color of the flesh, more purples and reds and colors that I didn’t even know the words for. The veins shifted and moved as she stroked him with her hands, the skin slid over the powerful muscular shape, something that the dildo couldn’t do. There was a give to it, a sense of motion that I wasn’t expecting. The dildo had shown me the shape and the size, but it hadn’t – and couldn’t – show me its life.
At that moment I wanted to record what I was watching. I wanted to capture it for posterity, to watch it whenever I wanted. Why hadn’t anyone thought of this before? How could you not capture this mesmerizing piece of art in perpetuity?
It only took me a split second to realize my idiocy, and I actually hung my head in shame. Come on, Shannon, you’re smarter than that! I shook the cobwebs out of my head and looked back over the railing.
While I had been marveling at my father’s cock and acting like a moron, Tracy had been progressing. This wasn’t like the porn movie, though, as it was clear that she was truly enjoying herself. She knew she was good at what she could do, and very obviously relished in the act, as well as the effect.
She wasn’t much bigger than me, but she could fit more of his cock in her mouth than I had been able to do with the dildo. She needed both hands to hold it steady as she rested her head on his stomach and fed it beyond her lips. One hand reached down and cupped my father’s balls, the other held the shaft in place.
She came up for air. “Oh god, I’ve been wanting to do this for days,” she said catching her breath.
“I’m so glad,” he said, stroking her hair away from her face, “You’re so good at it!”
She looked up at him and made eye contact, but flicked her tongue over the tip. “It’s easy to be good at something you love,” she teased. “And I love this cock. I always have.”
With that, she kissed the tip, and ran it against her cheek. She looked like she was holding onto either the most prized possession in the world, or the most delicious piece of meat she’d ever tasted, or both. This was a woman who appeared about as close to heaven as she could get.
Then, to my horror, she looked straight at me. I was mostly hidden by the bannister of the stairwell, but she could see the top of my head peering out. She looked straight at me, her eyes burning.
She knows!
I felt like she was compelling me to watch her. She seemed to settle against my father even more, opened her mouth, and the head started to slip into her mouth. I watched as it began to slide inside, her lips stretching to take in the beast. Her eyes never left mine, daring me to look away.
Slowly, she sank into it. The head disappeared, the flare sliding behind her lips, just like what happened to me in the shower. Then, though, she kept going. In that angle, I couldn’t imagine how much more she could physically take, as I didn’t think penises could bend in that direction.
Somehow, though, she managed to make it halfway down his massive dick with almost no effort whatsoever. I had to admit, despite the surreality of it all, I was impressed. Then again, she knew I would be. She was showing off for me, wanted me to see what she could do. She wanted me transfixed at her skill, wanted me to be in awe of her talent.
She was right on all counts.
My father scooted on the couch so that he could be more reclined, his head back and his eyes closed. He was obviously enjoying this, and I wondered what it felt like for him.
For me, I found myself with an incredible oral fixation. I wanted to take the dildo back into my mouth. Hell, at that moment, I would’ve taken his dick in my mouth. I felt a small competition with Tracy, and wanted to show her that I could do it too.
I felt the twinge of longing in the back of my throat, the desire to suck on something. I thought about going back and grabbing the dildo and returning, but I was afraid if I left then Tracy would stop and I would ruin the moment. Instinctively, I raised my fingers to my lips and began testing the tips with my tongue.
Tracy took one hand from my father’s dick and unbuttoned the top button of her blouse. Then another. With a tiny motion of her finger so that my father couldn’t see, she pointed at her breast, caressed it, and then pointed subtilely at me.
There was a flash to the bathroom again, and I knew that I had been right about her. She knew my nipples were the key to my body, and she wanted me to play with them.
I nodded, and I could see her try to smile. It was difficult with a giant cock in her mouth, but I saw that she got my feedback loud and clear.
I reached for my nipples under my shirt, and squeezed. I wanted to moan, and it took tremendous powers of concentration to keep quiet. As it was, my breathing was heavy, and to me it sounded like the whole world could hear how labored it was. I didn’t even realize that I had closed my eyes for a moment, but when I opened them I could see her eyes sparkle with deviousness.
Hidden behind the banister, she couldn’t see me pinching my nipples. She could, however, read the reaction on my face, and it encouraged her.
She began to work my father’s cock with her hands and mouth, increasing her attentive energy on him. She kneaded the shaft with both hands, occasionally dropping her fingers to caress his balls. I watched him writhe on the couch just a little bit more every time she did that.
I was stunned. I had no idea that this was important to men. I knew from my biology classes that they were important for reproduction, but I just thought that they were… there. I knew that they were potential targets for a good swift kick, just like you could see in any movie. Now, though, I was learning that you could give extreme pleasure to men by giving them attention.
No, that wasn’t right. Tracy was teaching me how to give pleasure to men. To my father, specifically.
At that point, another thought hit me like a ton of bricks. Tracy was a true pervert.
She was getting off on knowing that her man’s daughter was watching. Not just watching, but becoming aroused by it.
It was at that moment that I had the sudden epiphany that Tracy knew that I was a “true pervert” as well. Any other daughter would have been grossed out watching her father in the midst of a blowjob, but somehow Tracy knew I wouldn’t be. How did she know?
Was I that transparent that even a complete stranger could read me so perfectly?
And what about Tracy? Why wasn’t she upset that her boyfriend’s daughter liked to watch him have sex? Any sane person would have been shocked or even disgusted by the thought, but Tracy was relishing it all.
I found myself trying to read her thoughts, attempting to understand what was going trough her mind. Did she know I’d never seen his cock before, that giant swinging dick that she was so masterfully coaxing with her mouth and hands…
Oh god…
My orgasm flashed through me unexpectedly, a thunderclap of power rattling my ears. My breath caught, and I stiffened while my vision went white. There had been no slow build up, no ever-increasing waves of anticipation until a crest was reached. This was just… bang!
And it was only from playing with my nipples.
I felt light-headed, and my balance was tipsy. I needed to breathe, and I reached out for the banister to steady myself, but it wasn’t there. I found my free arm waving comically to find the edge of the banister, the wall, anything, but finding no success. My other hand was too busy trying to jam inside the fly of my jeans to be of any help.
I opened my eyes to find that in my sudden, uncontrollable orgasm, I had straightened up, thrust my hips forward, arched my back, and was now a good several inches higher than when I had been hiding. My hand, which previously had been right at the banister height, now swung in a futile attempt above the railing.
And I was completely visible.
Tracy was playing with her own cunt, her mouth suckling on my father’s dick, frigging herself towards her own orgasm. Her eyes were locked on me, watching my body breathe laboriously in the post-orgasmic cool down. There was nothing I could do. I was completely exposed, and what had just happened was unmistakeable.
I looked at my father’s face, ready to make some lame excuse or try to deny what I had just done. His face was contorted, a seeming agony twisting his eyes tight.
“Oh god, baby,” he said. “You should write a book!”
My eyes widened in shock. He didn’t know! He hadn’t seen a thing – his eyes had been closed the entire time!
I felt like I had dodged a bullet. I dropped out of sight as quickly as I could, trying not to make a sound. Sure, Tracy knew I was there – hell, she knew everything – but my father was still completely clueless.
She lifted her mouth off of his dick, smiled at me, and said, “Maybe I should just make instructional videos, instead.” Then she winked at me. “I’m sure someone could learn a thing or two from me.”
She scooted off the couch, and my heart pounded in panic. She simply stood over his legs with her back facing him, pulled her skirt up around her waist, and sat on his lap. “I gotta have you inside of me,” she said, continually stroking him.
She held his cock in front of her body, lightly running her hands up the massive shaft. Her blouse was not completely unbuttoned, but her magnificent breasts – breasts that I wished I had – were completely exposed. As if he read my mind, my father reached under the back of Tracy’s shirt and unclasped her bra, which fell forward and revealed them in all their glory. She took her hands off his cock long enough to slip her bra off in that trick that always seems to stun men – remove the bra while keeping the shirt on.
The effect was intoxicating, however. Her blouse, open several buttons lower than her breasts but still attached, framed her torso perfectly. She began working his cock in earnest again, but this time pulling it between her breasts.
“You know, I love when you do this,” my father said, “but I honestly don’t know why you like it so much.”
Tracy grinned, widely. “Oh come on, Rod,” she said, slyly. “You’re the only man I know who can fuck my tits when I’m in reverse cowgirl.”
He laughed, but then covered his mouth with his hand to keep quiet. “Plus,” Tracy continued. “It always amazes me when I know how far this thing gets up inside of me.”
As she said this, she was looking straight at me. I swallowed and found my throat as dry as the Sahara. All the moisture that should have been in my mouth was now pooling in my jeans.
I watched in fascination, and in horror, as light began to dawn on me. I felt like a dunce that had to be shown that one and one did in fact equal two, as Tracy was demonstrating to me just how far my father’s cock could possibly reach. The head was, after all, nestled in between her breasts. Granted, she was hunched just a little, but still!
Tracy lifted herself off of his lap, aimed herself towards the upward spear of his penis, and lowered herself downward.
Where were her panties? I thought to myself. Had she been going commando all day? That’s when I realized that I shouldn’t be throwing stones – I had been going commando all day as well. Good thing, too, because it was hard enough to play with my pussy freely with these damn jeans.
Such concerns were pushed out of my head the moment that I saw his cockhead press against her flesh. She rubbed the head back and forth against her pussy, getting him slick with her wetness.
“You are such a tease!” my father complained.
“You’re damn right I am,” she admitted without shame. “But you know I have to get it nice and lubed up to get you inside.”
My father groaned in frustration, but her eyes were aimed straight at me. “This is extremely special, you know,” she continued. “I can’t fuck you like anyone else. I have to treat you with care, and respect. If I’m not careful, you could destroy my pussy.”
My father chuckled, somewhat embarrassed. “I love it when you talk dirty,” he rasped.
I tried to swallow, and again it was difficult. Tracy actually was giving lessons here. She was talking dirty to my father, sure, but she was also talking to me, too. But why? Why would she feel the need to tell me this? From everything I had read, my father’s size wasn’t just unusual, it was damn near abnormal. There was almost no chance that I’d ever meet an actual person in real life with a dick that big, much less have the opportunity to fuck one.
Unless…
Just what was her end goal, here?
Tracy began to sink down, slowly, until the head was almost completely absorbed by her body. From my angle, I could still see that it wasn’t totally inside her, though.
“Oh god,” my father groaned. “I need to fuck you!”
“Shhhh,” Tracy chastised him. “I’ve got to work you in at my pace. Let me do the work, and then I’ll let you know when you can fuck me senseless.”
Again, I saved this information away in my memory vault.
“I know, I know,” he said through gritted teeth. “I know the drill.”
Tracy smiled, broadly. “No, sweetie,” she said, “You are the drill!”
They both laughed at that. The motion slipped him further into her cunt, and I drew a hand to my mouth to stifle a gasp. My other hand began fondling my pussy lips with greater intention. I tried to imagine what Tracy was feeling, wanted desperately to go back to my room, grab the dildo, and match her inch for inch.
Tracy began to rise again, slowly, and I could see just how much effort it was taking for her to disengage. In fact, it looked almost as if it was taking more effort than taking him in.
Even from where I was hiding, I could see the difference in moisture between the head and the rest of the shaft. Once again she took the head in, and I watched in anticipation as the flare of the giant head slipped inside once more. She slid a little further, maybe a fraction of an inch, but they both sucked air between their teeth.
“Oh god, Tracy,” he moaned.
“Don’t!” she warned. Her tone was serious, not to be challenged. He raised both hands to his head, closed his eyes, and winced in agony.
“So tight, so tight,” he mumbled.
“If you can’t control yourself,” she hissed, her breathing labored, “I’ll have to climb off you. I don’t want to go to the hospital because you can’t be patient.”
He grunted in effort. “It’s not that,” he said. “I can feel your walls closing in around me, pulling me in.”
At that, she smiled, and once more looked straight at me. “I know that’s the way you like it, baby,” she said. “I know you can feel me grip you. I love squeezing the head with my pussy, let you feel everything.”
He put his hands on her hips, and I could see he was trying to get her to go further. She slapped his hands away, and he threw them on the couch. He was unsure what to do with himself. It must have been very difficult for him to let her do all the work.
She began rocking her hips back and forth a little, but the slight motion made his cock shift back and forth like a gear lever in a car. When she stopped for a moment, I saw with complete surprise that he was now halfway inside her body.
My hand probed my own cunt to the best of my ability, but the tight jeans restricted much movement at all. I was frustrated, even though I had just experienced a powerful explosion, myself. I wanted more freedom to get my hand at the right angle, more penetration with my fingers, but I couldn’t do it without standing up and exposing myself completely.
Tracy knew that I was there, but so far my father did not. I couldn’t risk it. Instead, I tried to curl my thumbs around the waist and shimmy the jeans lower on my hips, just enough to give me better access. It wasn’t much – barely an improvement, really – but it helped. A little. Very little. But I’d take it.
Moving my jeans around had shifted my focus away from their coupling, and when I looked back I saw that she was pistoning her hips up and down slightly, tiny movements that seemed to draw him in further every once in a while. When that happened, they both gasped at the new, extra sensation.
Both of them were covered in a sweaty sheen, even though they hadn’t looked like they had exerted themselves very much. Apparently the effort to maintain control was just as exhausting as a full-on pounding. Perhaps more so. I stared at her breasts, hanging lewdly inside of her blouse, glistening with sweat and looking… enticing.
I had a momentary flash of a vision; sticking out my tongue and licking her chest, tasting the salty sweetness of her flesh. I thought back to how she had fondled me in the bathroom, and again felt confused about what it was that I really wanted.
Tracy caught where I was looking, and raised her hands to the collar of her blouse, pulling it open to expose herself to me. She said nothing, made no other indication, other than that one movement and slightly – ever so slightly – arching her back to offer her fantastic tits to me. I pressed my fingers into my pussy even harder.
“Tracy,” my father complained. “Please…”
“You poor thing,” Tracy cooed, talking to him but looking at me. “It must be so frustrating for you, wanting something and not able to get it. Knowing that it was just in your reach, but you can’t do anything about it.”
“You bitch,” my father said, but he laughed as he said it. He wasn’t serious.
But the same thought had crossed my mind. She was looking at me, talking to me. I was serious about it.
“You need some relief, don’t you baby?” she asked, coyly, her hips still inching up and down in a hypnotic, rhythmic pattern. Her eyes were still locked on mine.
“Yes,” he said, the word drawn out. I simply nodded, and vainly tried to swallow.
“You don’t just want it, you need it,” she continued. I opened my mouth to say something, but closed it just as quickly. She was completely in my head, now.
“I don’t know,” she teased, running a hand over her chest, pinching a nipple. She gasped a little. “What would you do if you actually got it?”
“I’d fuck you until you passed out from too many orgasms!” my father spat.
She looked at me, pointedly, and paused for the briefest of moments. She wanted to make her next point very, very clear.
“Would you? Would you fuck me like that?” she asked.
That was it. That was the line that shouldn’t be crossed, couldn’t be crossed. Up until that point, she had flirted, teased, taunted me. She had tempted me, had left just enough to the imagination, kept a “will she or won’t she” sexual tension.
Now, however, she was emboldened by the events of the evening. She was directly asking me, point blank, in no uncertain terms. She wanted to know my answer.
I panicked. Flustered, I didn’t know what to do. I felt like a time bomb with only two seconds left. I wanted to run away, escape, wished I had never come back out of my room. What had I been thinking? I was going to try to play coy and tease her? I was totally out of my league.
I simply stared at her, my mouth slightly open, frozen in tortured indecision.
“Yes!” my father growled.
She grinned a little wider. “I’m not sure I hear you,” she said. Once more, she was being crystal clear.
What if I said, “no?” Would she stop what she was doing? Would she leave him high and dry, just to prove a point? If she did, would it be my fault if he couldn’t get release?
To my horror, I felt my head begin to drop in a nod. I felt completely out of control of my own body. The part that wanted this, wanted her, had taken over. Something inside me, something that I didn’t even know existed, reached up out of my subconscious and moved my head on my own behalf.
My father grabbed her hips, but she slapped them away once more. “I want to hear you say it!” she ordered.
“Yes!” my father groaned with an intensity that shocked me. I had never heard anything so primal come from him before. He was at a breaking point, and we all knew it. Tracy looked pointedly at me, expecting an answer. I got the impression that if I didn’t give her one she was, in fact, going to stand up and leave him frustrated. I suddenly felt a pressure that only I could stop the torment.
I nodded sharply, and mouthed the words, “Yes!”
Tracy visibly relaxed at that. “That’s what I wanted to hear,” she said, and sank herself completely down on his shaft in one swift motion.
All three of us gasped out loud. It was a monumental feat, worthy of applause. Under another circumstance I might have given her a standing ovation. As it was, though, I watched, frozen, shocked to the core at seeing her impaled – and I mean that in the most literal sense – on my father’s giant penis.
Gone from her face was the assured confidence of the teasing, coy, playful seductress. Now, her eyes were wide with the realization of what she had done, and I wondered if she had ever done it before. Could this have been just a bit too much of a stretch – so to speak – all for my benefit?
She looked at me with an unreadable look on her face, a mixture of triumph and, perhaps, an acknowledgement that she may have bitten off more than she could chew. She looked down between her breasts at her belly, which did in fact protrude slightly from the extra girth in her womb. She ran her fingers lightly over her stomach, slipping past her pussy and down to my father’s balls, which rested firmly against her labia.
“Oh my god,” I heard her marvel.
My father echoed her sentiment, but in a much different intensity. “Oh my god, yes!” he roared. His hands flew to her hips, but this time she didn’t slap them away. He didn’t seem to care that he was being noisy or loud. He didn’t seem to care about anything at all.
He held onto her hips, and then stood up!
I don’t know how he was able to physically do it, but he simply stood up with his dick embedded inside of her, and picked her up off the ground, feet and all. Tracy wasn’t a big woman by any means, but she looked like a rag doll when my father turned her over and tossed her body over the corner of the couch. Working in construction had given him an incredible strength, apparently, and his libido had taken that and amplified it.
Mesmerized, I watched as my father tuned out the rest of the world, and positioned her the way he wanted her.
And then he took her.
He grabbed her body and pounded in and out of Tracy’s cunt. There’s no other way to put it – he was savage. There was no sign of this animalistic passion in the video, no clue that he had this… this buried inside him.
I couldn’t see Tracy’s face very well any more, but I could tell that she was loving every second of it. Every thrust and stroke seemed to take her to a completely different plane of existence. I watched as her face contorted in pure, unadulterated pleasure. She had gone from having all the control, to having none of it.
It was at that moment that I think I was seeing the living embodiment of the word, rapture.
She encouraged him, begged him to fuck her, harder, harder, and he did. He was like a machine, his cock like one of those pistons in the giant earth moving equipment that I’ve seen in his trade magazines from time to time. She came over and over again, until her cries were one long wail, a pleading pathetic cry for both more – and no more – at the same time.
He gripped one hand in her hair, pulling her head back. I almost cried out for him to stop, never having seen such rough play before. I thought he was hurting her, when she growled at him to do it harder. More!
Her orgasms came in rapid succession, rising her voice to a crescendo, and then starting again just as it seemed she was crashing down from them. He fucked her so hard that she flopped around on the couch, completely unable to control herself. She couldn’t gain purchase anywhere – as soon as she was able to steady herself with her arm, he simply fucked her harder so that she couldn’t stay put.
“Do it!” she snarled, allowing herself to be tossed around on his whim. “Do it!”
“I’m close,” he said. They both sounded angry.
She twisted her head around enough so that she could look him in the eye. “Do it!” she repeated. “I want you to come so deep in my cunt that I can taste it!”
My father redoubled his pace, and once again she flopped up and down. If the act wasn’t so bestial, it would have been comical. He picked her up again, this time holding her body close to his. He gripped her tightly, his muscles pressed tightly against the fabric of his shirt, and thrust his hips against her ass once, twice, a short pause, and then a final time.
I could only partially see their faces, given the angle of how they were standing. I could see, though, that both of them were spent, completely exhausted. For a long while, neither of them were able to move, their breathing labored and ragged. Their bodies stood like statues, my father holding Tracy to his chest, her tits hanging out of her soaked blouse lewdly.
Somewhere in the back of my mind, I thought of my father’s huge penis still embedded inside her body, and marveled at Tracy’s post-fucked state. She looked used.
This wasn’t the kind of thing that you’d ever be able to see people act in a video. This was spontaneous, raw, and what true sexual passion looked like. A rise of envy consumed every part of me. I wanted to be used like that. I wanted to be fucked within an inch of my life. I had never seen anything like what I just witnessed, and I wanted my turn.
My father started to withdraw from Tracy’s body, slowly and carefully. As it emerged, the look on Tracy’s face changed. It looked like she was experiencing a sense of loss so great that she was about to cry.
Both of them held their breath until it finally came out, flopping downward, semi-hard, and sopping wet. Tracy leaned her head back against his chest, her hair soaked from sweat, her face shiny from exertion. She tried to reach up to touch his face, but she couldn’t find the energy and simply let it fall back to her side.
“Are you okay?” he asked.
She nodded, and he released released her. She took one step, and then collapsed on the floor. He reached for her immediately, but she weakly held up a hand to stop him. She looked up at him, and I could see that she was laughing.
“My legs don’t work yet,” she said. “Jesus Christ, Rod, when you fuck a girl you really fuck a girl!”
He started laughing, too, and then looked around. He started to turn towards the place where I was hiding, and I ducked down below the railing, out of sight.
“Oh man,” he said. “I don’t think we were very quiet. Do you think she heard?”
She giggled. “Unless she escaped out a window, hopped a bus, and is now two towns over, I’m pretty sure she heard.”
“Maybe we should head to bed as well,” he said. “I guess I’ll have some explaining to do in the morning.”
“Rod,” I heard Tracy say. “She’s eighteen. She probably has more experience than you think. Or at least, she may know more than you give her credit for.”
I felt my heart begin to pound in my chest. I mean, I didn’t have any experience at all, and I certainly didn’t know how much credit anyone could give me. At the same time, my father would have a very good idea of how much I knew if I didn’t get out of there!
Unfortunately I had left myself in a very awkward position. My jeans were mostly down around my hips, twisted a little to the side, and I needed to escape back to my room as quickly as possible with my clothes tripping me up.
I heard them try to gather themselves together, and I scrambled backwards the best I could without rising above the banister. and becoming visible. After what felt like years, I finally made it back to my bedroom and silently closed the door behind me.
I stared at my bag, knowing what awaited me inside. I contemplated taking it out, and took a step towards it when I heard a knock on the door.
It opened, and Tracy peeked in. She took a look at my jeans, and saw the open fly and the bare flesh exposed hinting at what I was doing.
She grinned, then looked me straight in the eye. “Your father will be asleep within fifteen minutes,” she said. “Wait for me.”
She was gone and the door was closed before I could even react. One thing was clear, though. my night wasn’t over yet.