Thank you for reading my story, I hope that you enjoy it. Love Mica xx, Yorkshire England.
All email comments good or critical welcomed. Please note that all email comments from an invalid email address will be deleted immediately and will not be read, so please take care when entering your email if you want a reply. Rude or abusive comments may result in blocking. Please note that I am a British female, and I write in British English and vernacular, so for me a fanny is the correct term for female genitalia, a pussy is a pet cat and the ass is a bum or arse.
I was laying on my bed, home for a few weeks from university, just chilling, I had been listening to a podcast through my buds, but one had dropped out, the podcast stopped and I could hear the sounds of the house through my open door. Mum was downstairs in the kitchen doing food prep, or 'mis en plas' as they called it in Uni, and I didn't know where Dad was, but I thought I could hear him breathing, almost gasping, he must have been doing a workout perhaps?
I heard Mum come upstairs, and then go into their bedroom.
"Oh, for goodness sake," she said, "really?"
Dad's heavy breathing and gasps stopped.
"What do you expect?" He said.
"Can't you just control yourself?"
Control himself? What on earth was he doing? I could not imagine.
"I still have needs," he said.
'Needs?' What needs could he be talking about?
"Well control them, for goodness sake, I don't want to be confronted with you doing that when I come into the bedroom." Mum seemed angry.
"Oh don't be so prissy Margaret," Dad said, "the bedroom is the perfect place."
"Just stop it, you're not a teenager anymore." I heard Mum come out onto the landing shutting their bedroom door behind her, and then my door opened.
"Hello sweetheart," she said, I made a show of taking out my earbud, as if I had been listening to something on my phone.
"Oh, hello Mum did you say something?" I can be so deceitful.
"Just hello, do you have any laundry that needs doing?"
"Only what is in the laundry hamper Mum. Do you need me to help with anything?" Please say no Mum, I am feeling lazy.
"Okay Sweetheart, and no, nothing, thank you for asking."
Mum went downstairs and I lay there wondering what on earth Dad could have been doing that got Mum so riled up, not a teenager anymore? Was he wanking? Wow, that was all I could think of. I was sure the truth must be something else, but I couldn't think what. Imagining my Dad wanking was not something I should be doing, but the images were in my head and would not go away. Not that I knew what his dick actually looked like. My mind inserted generic cock images.
Tea was savoury mince and mash, and Mum didn't seem off with Dad in anyway, normality had returned, whatever it was that annoyed her earlier seemed to have gone away. After tea I stacked the dishwasher and wiped across the work surfaces and just generally tidied the kitchen. We sat watching TV and then I announced I was going up. TV was boring and I wanted to lay in bed and listen to podcasts and watch reels and just chill out.
I went up to my room, stripped off and nipped to the bathroom, Mum and Dad were still downstairs, so I didn't worry about being seen naked, not that I would be that bothered, it was just Mum and Dad after all. I lay on my bed, still too warm to get under the covers and started watching a few reels, but they just seemed to be irritating people, nothing really amusing, so I put my phone on my nightstand to charge along with my buds and just lay there.
After a while Mum and Dad came up, the landing light was turned off and they went into their room. There were the usual sounds that you would expect from their ensuite and then I heard.
"No Daniel, how many times."
"Bloody hell Margaret, birds do it, bees do it and even educated fleas do it, why can't we?"
"Because I said no. Now go to sleep."
Crikey, poor old Dad, sounds like Mum doesn't want any conjugals anymore, perhaps the change had upset her hormonal balance. I lay there my finger gently sliding up and down my crease, my labia sliding out of its way, wetness level increasing and I found my entrance and delved. My finger pushed inside me, and I wished I had got my toy out of my bag and put it into my nightstand, I was feeling the need for more than a finger.
I scraped a nail across my G Spot and a shiver of pleasures ran through me. A finger on my other hand sought my nubbin and slowly pressed, rotating it, pulsing it, and my pleasures increased and I heard myself gasping.
"Hush Melanie," I whispered, "you don't want them to hear."
I began to pump my finger in and out, my fanny swallowing and almost gripping my finger. I eased my finger out and added a second, slowly, widening them as they went inside my body, edges of fingernails catching the ripples and bumps and sending pulses of pleasures through me, my gasps were getting louder.
My eruption took me by surprise, an orgasm exploded through me, and I let out the loudest of sighs and slumped back on the bed, my breath deep, my chest heaving. Gosh, where did that come from?
I pulled my quilt over me and the night took me, my dreams punctuated by my Mum refusing Dad again and again. I awoke dripping, that had been a sultry and disturbed night. I threw my robe on and went to the bathroom and ran the shower, I was in need. I stood under the falling water for a while, letting it just wash away the perspiration, and then I lathered and scrunchied myself. As I sprayed the hose over me to wash away the suds I caught my nubbin with a jet of water.
I gasped again, gosh, what was up with me. I was not going to stand in the shower and bring myself off with the water from the shower head. Well, not whilst Mum and Dad were at home. I forced myself to turn the shower off and stood and dripped dry before getting out and patting myself dry with a towel. Back in my room I threw my robe over towards the door and sat on my bed.
I could hear Mum downstairs, and Dad was in their bedroom, getting dressed I presumed. I put a polo shirt on, a skirt and a pair of knickers and went down.
"Morning Mum," I said.
"Morning sweetheart," she answered, "toast or cereal?"
"Oh, cereal I think," I answered, grabbing a bowl and getting the milk from the fridge. Two Weetabix went into the bowl and were doused with milk, and left to soften, I love the almost porridge like texture of milk sodden Weetabix.
"Tea in the pot," Mum said, and I nodded a thank you and grabbed a mug, poured myself some tea, added milk, and then put the milk back in the fridge.
Dad came in, he usually has cornflakes, unless it is a weekend when he usually has bacon sandwiches. He gave Mum a peck on the cheek and grabbed a mug to do himself some tea.
"I am going to Waitrose and across to the White Rose Centre if anyone wants to come with me," Mum announced as Dad was pouring cornflakes into a bowl.
"No thanks Mum," I said, I don't have any spare money and traipsing around the White Rose and not able to spend anything wasn't my idea of fun.
"Not me either Margaret, unless you particularly want me to. I have some things here I want to do"
"No worries, I shall probably not be home in time for lunch, so you can get yourself something. There are some crumpets in the fridge if you want."
"Okay Mum," I said between mouthfuls of soggy and delicious Weetabix.
After breakfast I tidied the kitchen, and then I headed on up to my room to lay on my bed. As I lay there I listened to the sounds of the house, slight creaking as it cooled down after the early morning heating had gone off. There was another noise, right on the edge of my hearing. I concentrated on it, focussed, and listened just to it, and then I realised what it was.
Dad was masturbating again. I could hear his breaths, and the sound of his dick. A dick makes a sound when it is being wanked, a sort of sliding and slushing sound, and the sound of the mans hand hitting his pubis on the down stroke. I have watched many a boyfriend wank and I know that sound.
As quietly as I could I eased off my bed and went onto the landing, Dad's door was half open. I could see him in the reflection in the wardrobe mirrors. His trousers and underpants were round one ankle, his other leg free, legs apart. His hand was working his dick, pummelling it up and down, hard, fast. The sounds were much clearer here than in my room and I knew that my fanny was getting wet.
"Oh baby," Dad muttered as his hand moved, the end of his dick appearing and disappearing, a dark purple beacon on the end of his dick. "Oh Mel," quietly.
What? What the fuck? Was Dad really saying my name, was he really wanking to fantasies of me? Oh my God.
Faster his hand seemed to move, his dick really waving around as his hand pumped, "Oh God Mel," he gasped, and his dick spurted, his hand stopped, the end of his dick clear, spurts shooting from the end, so white against the dark purple of his glans. He began to move his hand again slowly as if extracting every drop that he could.
I backed away and went to my room, I was confounded, confused. I knew that Mum had stopped wanting sex, and it seems, wouldn't even help Dad out with her hands, but why did that mean that Dad was now mentally shagging me? I had never imagined shagging Dad, even after I had occasionally seen him naked, he was my Dad, and that was that.
My fanny was hot, and I knew I was soaking wet. I slipped my knickers down and tentatively ran a finger in my channel, my labia folding slickly around my finger making a very slight slush noise as my finger moved between my entrance and my clit. I touched my clit and I gasped, my breath held in my throat as my brain saw images of Dad's dick, hard, purple, ready.
My other hand betrayed me and two fingers pushed inside my soaking wet fanny, my brain telling me it was Dad's dick, "Oh God," I gasped, my fingers began to pump inside a finger shag, my other finger dabbing at my clit, touching, pressing, pushing, leaving, and my nipples felt so hard on my chest. "Dad," I gasped.
I was imagining Dad shagging me, his dick inside me, pushing up, surrounded by my body not his hand, my hot wet fanny walls squeezing his dick and my orgasm erupted and I gasped loudly and sank back on the bed. There was a creak on the landing and as I gasped my recovery, I realised Dad must have been there. Had he heard me? Had he watched me?
Slowly I relaxed and my breathing went back to normal. I could hear Dad down in the kitchen, I slipped to the bathroom and washed my fanny, wiping away my juices, drying myself and being normal again.
I had to act normal. I slipped a pair of knickers on and went downstairs.
"Shall I do us some lunch Dad," I said as if nothing had happened.
"Yes please baby," he answered.
In the fridge I found some corned beef, and there was enough crusty loaf left to make us a round of sandwiches each. I cut a chunk of butter off the block in the fridge and put it in the microwave for fifteen seconds to soften, buttered the bread and added the corned beef. Much better than crumpets.
