Sam's About to Cum but Dad Wals In

"Get out!" my Father yelled at Sam, as Dad opened and then walked through my bedroom door. "Just get out!"

Sam had been on top of me, his hard-on well up my vagina and, I suspect, just about to deliver his load of cum to where it would provide me with the greatest pleasure.

He rapidly withdrew, awkwardly twisting my vaginal opening as he did so, causing me to yelp slightly.

"And I didn't mean just get out of her...Get out of her bed, get out of her room, get out of my house!" he continued yelling. He bundled up Sam's pants, undies and shirt and thrust them at him. "And don't you dare ever touch my daughter again," he added for good measure.

I suspect the neighbours, had they been watching, would have been startled by the sight of a naked man, erection still clearly evident, beating a rapid retreat out our front door.

Dad had come home unexpectedly. I hadn't heard him come into the house and had been completely unaware that he was just outside my bedroom door as Sam and I were making out.

"Now young lady," Dad said sternly to me. "Just get out of bed and stand over here. You have some serious questions to answer."

I instinctively tried to hide my private parts and my boobs. "Oh, forget trying to be modest," I was instructed gruffly. "If you're willing to share your body with that young man, you'll have absolutely no problem spending a few minutes standing in front of your Father just as you are, giving me a few answers."

He looked me in the eye for what seemed an eternity. Then I could see his eyes drop as he inspected my teenage tits, then drop them again to gaze intently at my twat.

He said nothing.

I knew something was wrong. Very wrong.

What was occurring was certainly not acceptable family behaviour.

Dad would have noticed I was damp - damp from having been significantly aroused by Sam. He and I had been playing with each other's privates for some considerable time before I had spread my legs to allow Sam to drive his hard-on deep down inside of me.

To that point I'd been feeling ecstatic...and eager for the additional pleasure I was about to receive.

But now I burst into tears. I was humiliated. I was uncomfortable -- most uncomfortable!

I knew my Father had immediately seen that I now sported a neat Brazilian and, just to its left, a small tattoo of a snake -- the 'memento forever' that I'd received from Peter, the man who had just months earlier taken my virginity.

I feared what Dad might be thinking.

"Feet further apart," I was suddenly instructed. Perhaps stupidly, I complied.

Dad then slowly walked around behind me and stopped. I knew he was having a good look -- a very good look, a very long look - at my butt.

I expected I'd soon feel him touch me.

Perhaps to spread my butt cheeks to inspect my one remaining virgin hole that was hidden away from immediate view somewhere down my derrière...

Perhaps by cupping and lifting my boobs, as so many guys seem to want to do...

Perhaps by fingering my front passage or my clitoral area...

Perhaps by giving my bare bottom a real hard whack...

Perhaps by taking even greater advantage of my total nakedness...of my very obvious 'availability' at that time.

He didn't.

"I'm very disappointed to discover that you are no longer sexually chaste," Dad stated as he returned to address me and resume looking down between my legs -- no doubt transfixed by the tiny beads of moisture that were undoubtedly positioned all along the line of my teenage slash.

"How long ago did you lose your virginity?"

"That's my business," I replied.

"How long ago did you lose your virginity?" Dad repeated, much more sternly.

I said nothing.

Dad grabbed by arm and gave me a real shake. "Your father asked how long ago did you lose your virginity. Give me an answer," he said emphatically.

It was no use. Mum was not home, my twin sister was not home, so I had nowhere to run and nobody was around who might immediately provide me with any support. And Dad is a big bear of a man who was not going to accept any nonsense -- at least not right then.

I had a choice to make. Tell the truth or feed him bullshit.

But I knew that his discovery that I was now having sex would soon lead to him also questioning my sister about her sexual habits, and what she knew of mine, so I decided that I really had no choice but to tell him the truth -- or as little as I really needed to. And, as he not-infrequently reminded me, "you're still not too old or too strong young lady, for me to take down your pants, bend you over my knee, and give you a really good walloping."

And I'd often felt he was just looking for an excuse to do exactly that.

I feared he might now believe he had finally been given that excuse.

And I was in absolutely no position to resist, whatever he might do to me!

"On my eighteenth birthday," I reluctantly disclosed in answer to his persistent questioning.

"Eight months ago?" he responded.

"Yes," I admitted.

"And how many different men have you entertained that way?"

I paused, obviously for too long. "How many? Tell me!" he reiterated.

"Four," I admitted.

"You're a slut. A real little slut," he immediately responded. I thought better than to argue the point.

"You're on the Pill?"

"No," I replied.

"So you're having unprotected sex?" he enquired.

"No," I replied. "I have a contraceptive implant."

"And which doctor gave you that?" Dad continued.

"Dr Jenkins," I responded.

"Well you and I will be visiting Dr Jenkins this afternoon to have it removed," I was advised.

"But I'm legally an adult, and am legally allowed to have an implant and have sex if I want," I responded.

"We've discussed this before," Dad replied sternly. "While your living in my house, while I'm paying for your food, for your clothing, for your education, for all your other needs, and while you are still at school you should be concentrating on your study -- not inviting every Tom, Dick and Harry around to screw you. I certainly haven't intended to pay for you to get a contraceptive implant just to allow oversexed young men to enjoy themselves...and neither has your Mother! So we're visiting the doctor later today, understand? And for now, just forget about sex and concentrate on your studies."

By now I'd forgotten I was naked -- and probably could no longer care that I was standing in front of my Father stark naked, giving him a dream view of his teenage daughter at the very age when her body is probably at the peak of its sexual attractiveness, probably giving him the message to 'Take me. Now. I'm available. I'm yours for the taking.'

I knew there were more questions to come, and these would be most embarrassing, most compromising questions.

"Does your Mother know you are having sex?" Dad continued.

"I've never told her I am."

"Does she know you have received a contraceptive implant?"

"I haven't told her I do."

"And your sister. Does she still have her virginity?"

"You'll have to ask her," I replied.

Things were now getting extremely awkward. Sally and I had both agreed to surrender -- and did surrender - our virginities on our eighteenth birthdays, both of us has visited Dr Jenkins together to receive our contraceptive implants, and now Sally and I were engaging in an informal friendly competition to see who could be screwed the most frequently. So I was as aware as Sally of who was screwing her and how often. (Up until now, she had been screwed more often, but I'd been screwed by more different guys.)

"Is Sally still a virgin?" Dad repeated.

"I'm not sure. You'll have to ask her," I adamantly replied.

"Then, is she on the Pill or does she also have a contraceptive implant?" I was then asked.

I couldn't easily avoid answering this. If Dad was to accompany me to see Dr Jenkins, he would more than likely ask why Sally had not returned with us to also have hers removed, and the beans would have been spilled."

"I'm not sure, but I think so," I reluctantly replied.

"Do you know when she is getting home?" Dad asked.

"Shortly," I replied.

"Well, we'll soon find out," he responded.

"Is there anything else you should now be telling me?" Dad finally enquired.

"No, I've told you everything."

"Well you'd better get into the shower. Leave the door unlatched and I'll come in and give that overactive little cunt of yours a thorough rinsing out to ensure you have none of that oversexed young guy's sperm left inside you," Dad said.

"I'll do it, thank you," I replied firmly.

"Well, I'll just make sure that you do," he said...and a minute later he had followed me into the bathroom, slid the shower door open and watched me closely as I showered and directed a steady stream of water up into my vagina.

I felt acutely embarrassed again.

I'd never imagined my Father would ever be watching me spreading my labia and washing out my most private feminine parts.

And I felt vulnerable. Extremely vulnerable. After all, watching me closely was the exact same man who had explained to Sally and me, when we were once being instructed about how to deal with men, that we should always act and dress somewhat modestly because "if you display yourself inappropriately, this may be interpreted as an invitation to take advantage of you -- and you can never predict, until it may be far too late, how any man -- no matter how well you think you know him - will react and what he will do to you if presented with an unexpected opportunity by a woman -- and especially if that's being provided by an attractive, nubile young lady."

Dad quickly left when he heard the front door open. I was immediately relieved.

It was Sally.

I had no time, no opportunity to brief her about what had happened.

As soon as she had dropped her bags, Dad grabbed her and brought her into the bathroom. I was still wet, still completely naked.

So Sally, too, got a free look at my tits and my 'tween.

"All I need now is for Mum, Uncle Rob and Jim Johannsen from next door to arrive and be given a look, and the party will be complete," I mused to myself.

Dad explained what he'd just discovered. He informed Sally she also had some similar serious questions to answer.

"Are you aware that your sister has been sexually active since her eighteenth birthday and has since been fucked by a succession of young men?' "Are you aware that your sister has a contraceptive implant?"

He then started on her.

"Have you also surrendered your virginity?" "When?" "To how many men?" "Have you also been entertaining young men in your bedroom?" "What contraceptive protection have you organised?" "Do you also have any tattoos highlighting your sexual activities?"

I tried to give Sally some clues to the answers she might give to each of these questions by standing behind Dad and either nodding and shaking my head. But Dad became aware of something in the bathroom mirror and immediately reacted with "Girls, I won't be fooled by either of you -- come clean with the truth, the whole truth, or else."

We knew what he meant.

By now Dad was obviously less upset that he had caught me red-handed being fucked by Sam and had become more interested in eliciting as many details as he could about his daughters' sex lives. We, of course, were reluctant to reveal more than was absolutely necessary.

Having learned that Sally also had a contraceptive implant, Dad continued to threaten to immediately take us to Dr Jenkins to be have our implants removed and to, simultaneously, be given internal examinations to ensure that we had suffered no harm from our sexual encounters.

Neither Sally nor I wanted that to happen.

Dr Jenkins has a reputation among our friends for freely prescribing contraceptives and contraceptive devices to young girls, but (as both Sally and I had previously experienced) his 'essential precautionary internal examinations' were widely suspected to be far more-reaching than any other local doctor undertook. I, for example, was mystified why my 'essential precautionary internal examination' included him spending several minutes closely 'examining' the area around my clitoris with his fingers before he provided me with a contraceptive implant in my arm! And the goss from the girls was that once he learned a girl had lost her virginity he was not adverse to inserting a couple of fingers into her vagina to 'check that your g-spot and Skene's glands are functioning properly.' The grub!!

Sally and I worked as a team to convince Dad that it was prudent that we keep our implants. We explained that he would realise that now we had sampled sexual intercourse and found it appealing, there was every likelihood -- after we had finished school! -- that one or other of us would sample intercourse again, and it was better for us to be contraceptively protected than to chance things with no protection. And as implants worked for several years, it seemed silly not to now simply leave them in place.

We did promise, however, that we'd be having no more intercourse in our bedrooms until we had left school. "That had better be the case, because if I discover otherwise I'll be visiting Axmed up the road to ask him who is available to sew your cunts closed, and then there'll be four stitched women living in the street -- Hani, Jamilah and you two," he threatened. "Do you understand?"

(Sally and I had learned, by befriending and talking with Hani and Jamilah, that they had been surgically sutured before they had migrated. It didn't particularly seem to worry them now; they viewed it purely as a normal traditional tribal custom. We here, however, shocked and amazed to learn that their husbands would be presented with a scalpel and would have to 'open them up' on their wedding night before then consummating their marriages, and that older women from their community, including their Mother, would subsequently inspect their labial openings and enlarge them further if necessary. And all this in their belief the procedure helped prevent bad spirits from entering their bodies. Considering what had happened to me that day, perhaps it did!!)

As soon as Sally and I were alone I apologised to Sally for what had happened to her. She was very sympathetic observing "things could have been worse. At one stage I was expecting him to demand I take my clothes off so he could compare our tits and what we have between our legs -- and I'd decided there was absolutely no way I was going to agree to that."

"And," she continued. "He's fucking mad. Instead of immediately throwing Sam out, he would have had much more impact on both of you had he stayed and watched, encouraging Sam to give you a really good bruising by urging him to 'get it right up her...get it in her faster...get it up her harder...get it in her deeper...give the dirty little bitch exactly what she deserves...and when you're done, I'll roll her over and finish her off for you'."

I suspect that my Father is a just little too gentle to have done that!

But I was still incensed. "Fuck Dad," I said to Sally. "There is no way he, or Mum, are going to dictate my sex life... tell me when or with whom I can be screwed. So I'm ringing Sam shortly to organise for him to screw me again tomorrow...and perhaps -- symbolically - we should both be telling Dad to get totally fucked, and leave his daughters sex lives totally to his daughters, by BOTH of us organising a to be screwed again tomorrow."

Sally seemed to think the idea had considerable appeal!

I'd calmed down a little when I rang Sam. I checked that he was O.K. and arranged for him to meet me immediately after school the next day. "You have a job to complete," I informed him, "but unfortunately not in my bedroom."

I had trouble falling to sleep that night. I guess I was particularly sexually frustrated from having just -- only just -- missed out on being totally sexually satisfied by Sam that day; I was still seething about what my Dad had discovered -- in my bedroom and so much of what was so intimate about me, by both being able to freely and closely view my most personal, feminine parts, and then being able to glean details of my most private sexual experiences; I was upset that I had caused my sister to become unexpectedly involved and similarly to have to reveal intimate secrets she normally would have shared with nobody else; and I was already dreaming about what I was to receive from Sam the next afternoon.

I eventually decided I would pleasure myself to see if that helped me sleep.

I stripped off my pyjamas. I pushed my pillow under my backside, raising my crotch slightly to provide me with unfettered access from the entrance to my Hershey Highway around to my clitoris. I determined that, as I was not already sleeping, I'd play with myself for as long as I took to orgasm.

I started by repeatedly stroking the inside of my legs -- ever so gently as females do -- right up to the very top of my crotch, then moved my hands gently down from above my boobs to between my legs. I concentrated on imagining these were Sam's hands that were working to arouse me sexually.

I seemed to be getting results. I must have relaxed a bit and before long I was anticipating that I would shortly be entirely pleasured.

I moved my hands to my breasts, gently stroking and patting them in a gentle, rhythmic, downwards motion. And I played with my nipples -- first one breast at a time, and then both simultaneously -- until I could feel that my nubbins had engorged a little. I imagined that Sam would have noticed and would soon be taking them between his lips.

When I was sure I was ready, I moved my hands down to my pubic mound -- and beyond. A couple of fingers played with my clit, a couple of fingers worked on my g -- and very gradually increaded the rate at which they stroked, patted, touched my two most sensitive areas.

I was loving this...loving gradually bringing myself to the crescendo I was desperately seeking -- and banishing, at least temporarily, the feelings and thoughts that had been keeping me awake.

I didn't think it at the time, but I've since wondered what my Dad's reaction would have been had he walked in whilst I was obviously pleasuring myself, dreaming that I was about to receive whatever Sam's cock could deliver.

And then it happened.

I felt that kind-of shudder rip through my body, starting from exactly where I had been pleasuring myself: a good, satisfying, orgasm!

I probably uttered a slight sigh of achievement, a sigh of satisfaction.

And I hoped my Dad was not listening!

I did get a little sleep later that night -- dreaming of soon cuddling close to Sam and what he would inevitably provide.

It was teeming with rain the next day when I climbed into Sam's car at the school gate. I had just one thing on my mind -- to get what had been denied to me the previous day.

I gave him a passionate kiss and an enormous hug. Anyone who might have noticed would have been in no doubt about where the two of us were about to go and what we were about to do.

And then I burst into tears. And I started crying almost uncontrollably. I obviously was still emotionally pent-up from what had happened the previous day.

"Don't worry about it," Sam said sympathetically. "You and I now both have a fabulous story to tell, and I'm sure we'll both dine out on it for the rest of our lives."

Sam pushed his hand between my legs and gave my inner thing a good rub. I thought that was the most appropriate, the most loving thing, he could have done to me at that particular moment!

And I was reassured that it would not be long before that hand would be well inside my already-damp panties.

Sam had decided that we should drive to a suburban oval some distance away where there was a shed with an awning that faced away from the road but across the sports fields to bushland beyond, providing a degree of privacy. He'd reasoned it was also spacious enough for me to comfortably spread my legs and it was a place where we were unlikely to be interrupted that day -- even though it was nowhere near as comfortable an option as my bed had been! Sam, thoughtfully, had packed a couple of beach towels, to partly compensate.