I didn't think too much about it the first time I saw Merrill and David together. After all, one wouldn't make a connection would one: she, an almost-thirty-three, high-flying tax lawyer and he a high school student? They sat chatting in the late afternoon sunshine on the low stone wall that separates my garden and that of David's parents. They weren't even facing each other; more shoulder-near-shoulder, facing in opposite directions, with their feet in their respective gardens. It was the clear peal of Merrill's laughter that attracted my attention, or I probably wouldn't have noticed them at all.
"Hi Dad!" she called cheerfully and waved, and at then turned her attention back to the boy.
I waved back and finished paying-off the taxi, then hurried into the house, anxious to have a refreshing shower and a long cool beer after a tedious, crowded flight from Florida.
Merrill appeared as I, now refreshed and relaxed, was opening my second ice-cold bottle. She stole it from my hand and took a long gurgling swallow. Planting a cool wet kiss on my cheek, she asked, "And how was Miami?" She smelled of sunshine and looked in the very best of spirits.
"Hot and sticky as usual at this time of year...I think they may get their first hurricane of the season soon."
Merrill pulled a face, "Bad as that, huh? You must have hated it." Taking another swig of beer she handed back the bottle, "I'm going to take a shower. I'll start dinner after."
"Ok." I downed what was left of the beer and opened another bottle on my way to catch the latest news on CNN.
I saw them again a few days later from my car, from behind, walking along the sidewalk towards our house. He was toting his school books. From a distance I could have sworn they were holding hands, but as I drew closer I saw that I was mistaken. I made a mental note to call my optometrist for an overdue appointment to get my eyes checked. Merrill joined me on the driveway as I was getting my briefcase out of the car. She was positively glowing. I looked around for David, but he was nowhere in sight.
"Unusual to see you on foot, young lady..." I grinned, "Especially at this time of day." This was an allusion to the facts that my daughter was seldom seen out of her car, plus she should normally be very much at work at this time in the afternoon.
"That damned clunker of mine had to go into the workshop," she shrugged. "I decided to go for a walk around the block after the mechanic dropped me off here..."
'That damned clunker' was a Porsche 911 given to Merrill by her firm as part of her salary package...
"They still can't fix that friggin' oil leak."
I made sympathetic noises and made another mental note, this time not to buy a fancy European sports car if I ever decide to trade my safely reliable, but stodgy Lexus.
"I guess you must have met David on his way home from school?"
"Yes, at the corner."
They were together again the next day. This time I did pay attention. I was just pulling into the driveway when I saw David leaping over the wall into his own garden. Shortly afterwards, Merrill appeared from behind our house. She was barefoot, and wearing the shortest of short shorts I have ever seen her in and a loose cotton shirt. It certainly was a warm afternoon, but why was she so rosy-cheeked? And what was she doing at home again so early in the day?
I asked her...
"My boss...because the weather is so good he said I should take some time off to make up for all the late nights I worked earlier this year. I'll be working hard enough later on."
This was true. At tax time Merrill had often worked until midnight and two in the morning. So much so, I had begun to think that she and Alan were having an affaire. Until finally I met him and saw what a desiccated little weed he is!
"So what's this with David then? Are you coaching him for his SATs or something?"
"Coaching him?" She flushed. "I guess you could say that...but I don't think SATs are..."
She looped her arm through mine and snuggled against me. She wasn't wearing a bra. I felt an urgent stirring in my groin. Lust for my own daughter! Shocking, but I hadn't had sex in a couple of years since my wife, Merrill's mother, died of cervical cancer.
"You look tired. Would you like a beer, Daddy?"
"Er...Um....Y-yes, I guess..."
My urgently hardening manhood sparked by the warm, firm-soft pressure on my arm was making me flustered.
"Well, you go around to the love-seat and I'll bring you one."
I made my way to the back of the house willing my erection to subside. It wasn't easy. Especially when after passing over the moisture beaded bottle, Merrill sat down beside me, turned sideways on, with her feet up on the seat and her hands clasping her knees. Those short shorts molded themselves tightly to the plump hillock of her pubic mound, and revealed every crease between her legs in sharp relief. At the same time, she exposed much of the bare flesh of her taut, rounded buttocks. When I was finally able to tear my eyes away, it was only to be trapped by the sight of her hard jutting nipples making small tents in the thin cloth of her shirt. I had completely forgotten what a stunning woman my daughter is.
Merrill grinned at me mischievously, fully aware of my discomfiture. But she made no attempt to hide away her charms. My erection finally died of its own accord when we started discussing mundane things like work needed around the garden and our household budget.
I discovered exactly what sort of coaching my daughter was giving young David the very next afternoon...
Put yourself in my shoes. Imagine arriving home earlier than usual. You've cancelled two late appointments with customers to make room to exorcise your nagging suspicions. You know your daughter is at home when you arrive, because her car is in the garage. You walk around the outside of the house to check, but in your heart you are not surprised when you find she is not in the garden. You step indoors. The house is quiet. Perhaps she is not here after all? Then you hear a soft sound from the direction of her room. It makes no difference that she is a grown, adult woman; she is till your daughter! With your heart pounding, you make your way quietly upstairs and along the passage; hoping against hope that you will not find what you are sure you are going to find. Her bedroom door is wide open. God! Did she leave it like that deliberately for you to find them? Trembling with anxiety you step into the room...
Animal smells and muted sounds fill the air. The boy is laid out flat on his back, naked, his eyes closed, with his legs spread wide apart. Even at this moment, you take note of how strongly built he is. Your daughter is knelt between his feet, naked also apart from a tiny pair of bikini pants. Her full, hard-nippled breasts dangle like luscious melons beneath her. Her hair, usually so neat and tidy, is a tangled disarray. She has her hand secreted beneath the boy's balls as she avidly sucks his long hard cock into her yawning mouth. Is her finger in his anus? The boy thrusts his abdomen up at her face, striving to bury his member deeper into her willing throat.
That is what I found...
