Hello, erotica fans. Here's the final part of "Raven's Dad," where he finally gets some raunchy action. If you just found this by accident (or mistake) then it would be good for you to read the previous three and, maybe, the ritual stories and Raven's Party (where Raven's dad first showed some interest). Hope you enjoy it.
***
Craning my neck, I could see the clock in the dull light from the bathroom. It was a little after two in the morning; all was silent bar Jay's breathing, which had not quite developed into a snore.
I turned over, facing the clock, and closed my eyes. My brain raced with myriad thoughts. George's first attempt to seduce me, when I was daft enough to enter his domain while wearing only a bathrobe, played first. How easy it would have been to open that robe, and my legs; I imagined doing so, comparing George to Davey.
The memory of George's hand scratching at my vulva through the denim of my jeans made me tingle. Reliving the sensations, I recalled his hand pushing into my jeans, and caught myself touching those same places. I pushed my hands to safety under my head; I needed to sleep.
Jay had been so aroused listening to my retelling of the afternoon's events. Were we that perverted? We both got off on listening to each other's flirtations and infidelities. That wasn't normal. Other couples didn't do it. Did they?
I opened my eyes again; the clock told me I had been awake for another forty-five minutes and I was no nearer to sleep. Did Jen keep hot chocolate or cocoa in the kitchen? Would she mind?
I waited for a further five minutes before I gave in to the sleeplessness. Slithering from the bed, I rummaged for my bathrobe in the half-light Jay had not switched off. I found it in the corner, under my skirt and shirt.
Pulling the belt tight, I double-tied the robe and found my slippers. Pushing the bathroom door closed, I walked to the bedroom door and pulled it ajar. All was dark on the landing. Having gently latched the bedroom door, I stood for a few moments, taking in the air before finding a light switch.
The sexual charge of the house competed with its spirituality. The energy compelled me to untie that belt and pull open the plush material. In the quiet of the sleepy house, I held still, allowing the tendrils of sexuality to flitter around the bare front of my body. The temptation to drop my robe, to walk through the house as naked as the Gods had intended lingered in my brain. A wave of sensibility took hold of my sensuality and I skipped down the staircase, robe clinging to my shoulders while the rest slid down three steps behind me in pursuit.
To my relief, the kitchen was empty and dark. I felt my way through to find a switch for the low lights, which illuminated the worktops.
I found some honey, so I warmed a cup of sweet milk on the stove, careful not to splash hot liquid on my bare flesh. While it cooled, I washed the saucepan.
Rather than take the drink back to our bedroom, I walked into the garden room, staring out past the reflection of the lights into the darkness. A chill played on my bare skin where my robe had drifted down my shoulders, opening me up some more.
I pondered for a while. Were there any houses behind close enough to have a view of this glass room? Could somebody be looking from their bedroom window? Would they have powerful binoculars to inspect every inch of my bareness? Would they have a telescope trained on my crotch right now? A tingle played in my loins and a drip of Jay rolled down my thigh. I wiped it with my bathrobe and clenched my muscles to stem the leakage.
As I returned to the upright, one side of the robe slid from my shoulder. I drank some more without correcting the malfunction. Setting my cup down on the coffee table, which had recently served as an altar, I arose to a proud upright and the other side slid. Rather than pulling up the offending towelling, I held the edges with fingers that peeked from the sleeves that had slid over my wrists. The material held, not sliding beyond my biceps, what there were of them, and the hem brushed at my ankles.
My hands crept around my back, inside my attire, until my fingers touched, fully exposing me to my fantasy voyeur, the excitement now all too obvious within my nether regions. I still clung tight to the contained juices. The thought that I should clean up fluttered through my mind and out again.
Wrapped up in my reverie, locking eyes with my imaginary peeping Tom while he caressed his imaginary erection. I fancied I saw a movement through the glass, but it stopped and I returned my attention to the invisible window in the distance.
My eyes refocused to the lawn where the spectre of an imaginary perv stood by the bushes, right where I'd pissed like a man. My new voyeur was closer; it was much more exciting being studied by a stranger, even if he were imaginary. Is that someone behind me, reflected in the windows? I thought?
I rotated on one foot, like a display on a Jewellers turntable, and refocused through the dim light. It was many seconds before George's face materialised in my vision. He, too, wore an untied robe, which gapped down his midline. The silky material seemed determined to slide from his shoulders. The aesthetic was not lost as I gazed down at his at-ease, but somehow more attractive, manhood.
"I see you anticipated my arrival," George said.
Puzzled, I stared at his grinning face before realising that I was displaying myself to him as fully as I had to my imaginary audience. "Oh, shit! Sorry." I moved to adjust my garment.
"No. Don't do that," he implored. I stopped, dead. "You look so beautiful framed like that."
The sight was not arousing him. It was comfortable; unthreatening. I left the material hanging from me and resting on the outside of my breasts, still exposing all my femininity as I picked up my cup and walked towards him and the kitchen sink.
"Have you got alarms on all the doors or something?"
"No. I saw you."
"How?"
"Glass roof in the glass room below our bedroom window."
"Oh." My arousal stepped up a notch.
"It wasn't as nice a sight as it is now."
Turning to the sink to wash my cup, aware that more of Jay was trying to escape, but my valiant efforts kept it in. I kiss alighted on the sensitive skin below my ear.
"No. Don't." I advise him.
"What? Don't you like it?" He did it again.
"Yes. I do. That's the problem."
George's moist lips glided down the curve of my neck along the dip; his teeth nipped my flesh. "I don't see it as a problem." He slid the fabric from my shoulder and butterfly kisses traced my skin to the top of my arm. Electricity fired off in all directions.
"Yes, it is." I silently thanked Jay for giving me such a filling earlier. There was no way I would fuck someone with a fanny full of someone else.
His lips played on the nape of my neck. "You're enjoying it. So no problem." He repeated the process on the other side while the electricity found its focus between my thighs.
"Fucking hell," I whispered.
"Getting too much for you?"
"It would be if I didn't know we were not going to fuck." I turned and pushed him back a little, but didn't cover up. My eyeballs disobeyed me and drifted down to his semi. "Not as exciting for you this time?" I shrugged the robe back over me.
"Well, I was quite busy earlier." He grabbed my hands and lifted them. "Come here." He walked backwards towards the garden room. I could have rooted, but felt drawn to follow. He stood me near to the altar and turned on two low lights that converged where I stood, rigid in anticipation.
"Is this better for you?" he said as he ran his fingers up the edge of my bathrobe, pausing at my nipples. "More exciting?" He placed his warm palms on my breasts.
"What?"
"That excitement that you might be seen. That someone is watching from outside." How well he knew me. His hands slid up my bare skin and parted at my collarbone. "Doesn't that arouse you?" My robe seemed to float down my body; it pooled on the floor, behind my feet. "It does, doesn't it?"
The word fell from my mouth without conscious thought. "Yes."
He took half a step backwards and placed his hands on the tops of my arms, turning full circle, displaying me to all the spectral voyeurs. Turning me to face the outside with any overlooking houses, he slid his arms around me from behind. My nipples were organ stops before he touched them.
"Imagine those eyes staring at you from the distance." A hand stroked from my breasts down my torso. "Binoculars in one hand and stiff prick in the other." I shuddered and my knees softened as the hand reached my clitoris. "Isn't that arousing?"
"God, yes!" My hand took control of itself and reached around to find his erection. He moaned into my neck.
George slithered around to my front, his gaping silken robe displaying his obvious arousal. A hand lifted my chin and George stared into my soul as he kissed me. Breaking off the kiss, he slid to his knees, face level with my crotch.
I came to my senses. "Stop, George." I pushed at his shoulders. "This has to stop now."
George stood and looked into my eyes again. "You know you want this."
"Oh, so much. But I can't."
He kissed me again; my resolve almost crumbled. "Why?"
"Because I've just, you know?" Why couldn't I say it?
"Fucked Jay?"
"Yes. We made love before."
"I know. I can smell him."
That was embarrassing. "So, I can't."
"Not into mixing two lots of juice in there."
"God, no."
