It was a Friday night and I had just gotten home from work when the missus texted me to say she had told Lauren, our daughter, that she could have her friend Jodi over to spend the night. Never mind my evening plans. Never mind that my wife was out of town and would not be back until Monday. I was now playing unplanned host to two girls and be damned what I might want. That "what I might want" boiled down to someone else cooking and me sipping a nice glass of Laphroaig while reclined in my easy chair and watching something stupid and forgettable. But... I was stupid enough not to refuse.
As it was, when I got home, I changed into a pair of jammie pants and my favorite Flash Gordon t-shirt, then set about cooking dinner. That there were a pair of girls torpedoing through the house while shrieking and giggling about topics I really wish I had heard less about, did nothing to change the necessities of the evening.
While I reduced a pork loin into cutlets I would eventually transform into a cheater's schnitzel, I sipped on a nice glass of my aforementioned Laphroaig scotch in an attempt to mute my awareness of the metaphorical and literal noise of the hyperactive duo. After getting the meat ready, the breading put together and my mis en place taken care of, I popped the cork on a bottle of 1998 Chateau Plince. I just love that bacony finish! That bacony finish was a beautiful thing. It was a beautiful thing that left me in a sadly stupid state.
One delectable meal of schnitzel, prosciutto wrapped asparagus, mashed potatoes, and crème brulee (and more of the bottle of Plince than I care to admit) later, I was nicely sated, relaxed, and reclined in the easy chair. I clicked on the TV and immediately had the remote stolen by the girls who plopped down on their stomachs on the floor in front of the idiot box. Not being in the mood for the Harry Potter films I put my iPad in my lap and started drifting through the novel I was reading. It was about half an hour later that I got up to pour my last and stupidest glass of scotch.
Now... I would like to say I had not noticed Jodi's rear end before, but that would be lying. To say I had not looked up from my book to stare at it from time to time while they were splayed on the floor before me would also be a lie. Quite frankly, the girl had an ass for which supermodels would kill. The curve from her smooth upper thigh to the supple rondure of her butt was only subtly creased and the shorts she wore did nothing to disguise it.
Anyhow, it was while refilling my glass of scotch that the girls asked me if they could have a beer...
Having always been of the "better here where I can ensure safety and keep things from getting out of control" school of thought, and incautiously intoxicated... I said...
"Sure! But you'd probably like a glass of wine a lot more."
Yeah... I'm an idiot. We covered this.
And I proceeded to open a bottle of Sauternes that indeed... they liked. A lot.
I think about an hour passed before I noticed that Jodi had spread her thighs kinda wide and I could see up the leg of her shorts. It was maybe ten minutes after first seeing the white mid panel of her panties that I noticed her glancing over her shoulder at me as I stared, and smirking.
Allow me to describe the goddess that had ensnared my drunken lust. She was 5'5" tall with blond hair. Her eyes were the blue of lapis lazuli framed by gold rimmed glasses. Her bust was maybe a b cup and couldn't have been more perfectly formed. She was shaped as if by the hands of the gods of lust. The sight of her could jumpstart the heart of a dead man and her scent was roses and vanilla.
Moments after I made inadvertent eye contact with her, Jodi leaned over to my daughter and the pair started whispering.
My daughter sat up and turned towards me. As Jodi had primed my brain for sex, my eyes immediately went to her nipples poking through her white t-shirt.
"Dad, can we put something else on?" she asked.
I am usually slightly more aware of subtext, but as I mentioned I'd been drinking and... that's right. I'm stupid.
"Sure" I replied.
The girls immediately turned away giggling and pressing their heads together before putting on a decidedly more... FLESHY film.
I have no objection to heavy R ratings, and the mellow saxophone while a camera panned over a cityscape at night was all I needed to identify the genre.
"Popcorn?" I offered to the pair of nymphs on my living room floor.
"Only if you will share it on the couch!" Lauren replied.
I stood and ambled into the kitchen to pour oil into our medium pot, and a half cup of kernels on top of it. As I stood before the stove shaking the pan to make sure the kernels didn't burn, I was surprised by a pair of lithe arms sliding around my waist and a pair of soft breasts pressing against my back. My daughter leaned her head against my shoulder and said "Daddy, you're the best. I really liked that wine. Can we have another glass?"
Sigh....
How do you argue with that? My little girl loves me coupled with the disturbing sexual thrill of her soft unrestrained a-cups pressed against me. I felt the warmth of her body against my back and hips and after token resistance capitulated.
"Sure, honey. The bottle is right over there." I said while gesturing to the table and shaking the tattoo of exploding kernels. I am ashamed to admit that THAT is when my cock began to swell.
Guys out there will understand what I mean when I say there is a moment when you do not have a hard on, but you know anything else will mean you do. That is where I was. That was when my daughter broke the "hug", backed away, and...
Smacked my ass as she left.
Yep.
She smacked me on the ass, giggled, and ran back into the living room.
Now please tell me, what was I supposed to do with that?
I continued shaking the popcorn. Slack-jawed. Half hard.
By the time I had a bowl of popcorn, buttered, and salted, and made my way back into the living room to sit down; the girls were already on the couch. Both in too tight t-shirts (the little minxes had changed outfits while I was busy) and loose cotton shorts, sitting on either side of the couch with only one spot for me to sit. Right smack in the middle of the pair who immediately scooted up close to me and started pulling snacks out of my lap (that's right... I said it).
Each of them had leaned in close and every time they would reach onto my lap for a handful of corn, they would rub a breast against my bicep. It was hell for a man trying very hard not to go to jail.
