NOTE: This story follows on directly from part one. Originally, it was all one story, but I decided to split it up to break up the parts some people wouldn't want to read. Maybe that was a mistake, but there you are.
Thank you to those who left comments after part one. I especially liked one that had an interesting proposed future to the story that I regret to say was considerably better than what I had already come up with. Notwithstanding, I hope you enjoy part two.
On the settee, Aimee was both disgusted and impressed in equal measure. The idea of her brother fucking their mother was disgusting, of course. (
Is it?
a voice her mind asked.) but he'd done a really good job from what she could tell. Her own, limited, sexual experiences had been short-lived things that had been over in a few moments. She'd only slept with two guys and neither had been up to much. Her brother, on the other hand, had done a really decent job on their mother. She didn't want to admit it to herself, but she was really quite jealous.
That realisation hit her at about the same time as her orgasm and only then did she recognise that she had been rubbing herself above her jeans, whilst watching her brother and mother rutting a few feet away. She gasped and moaned and tried to keep it quiet, but her father knew. She
knew
her father knew. Her father had barely taken his eyes off her in the last few minutes. He'd barely watched as his son fucked his wife, because his entire attention had been focused on his little girl. And that was just the way that Aimee liked it.
Aimee was not as shy as Robbie, despite what their mother thought. Oh, she wore unimpressive, shapeless clothes at home - especially around her mother - but she was really a bit of a temptress and loved to tease her father. When she thought she could get away with it (in other words, when her mother was not around) she would walk in front of her father and just exaggerate the hips and push her tits out a little more by walking with a slightly straighter back.
And her father watched, even though he didn't realise he did. He never touched her and he never seemed to have that hard kind of reaction that she wanted to see, but it wasn't because he wasn't watching.
Now, she was cumming just a foot from him and he was watching her, she knew. Watching her and admiring her and maybe even wanting her.
But the man who spoke to her was not her father, but Will. "Like that did you, slut?" he hissed in her ear.
"How dare you call my daughter that," Mike demanded and gun or no gun it still could have ended badly for Will but Will pushed his hand into Mike's face and covered his mouth.
"Shut it, you little fucker," Will said, not taking his eyes off Aimee. "She's just cum from watchin' yer son fuck yer missus. Cum - right there on the chair! Groaned and moaned like a cheap little whore, so if'n I wanna call her a slut then a slut is what she is! She likes it when a man takes control - she said so. Din't ya?"
Aimee nodded in fright, but also in shame. And also with just a hint of want. She did love a man taking control. Perhaps not this man, who she still didn't like despite him being clean and having the nicest cock she'd ever seen up close (except, perhaps, for Robbie, but she didn't dare admit this even to herself yet - and anyway, she'd not really gotten the best look at Robbie's cock). But generally? Yes. She stared at him, initially looking at his face, but the crystal around his neck wouldn't leave her mind alone. She found her gaze constantly being drawn to it.
"So I'm gonna take control," Will said. "And yer little girl is gonna like it - or at least do it - or the last thing you're gonna see is your brains exploding across her cute little face." As if to emphasise the point, Tim tapped his hand on the pocket with the gun in it.
"What... are you going to do?" Aimee asked, surprised at how calm and relaxed and she felt, not to mention how...interested she was. Her eyes were staring into the fire inside the purple crystal Will wore. It... spoke to her? That was ridiculous, of course, but it felt right. Almost like the crystal was telling her what to do. No, not telling.
Suggesting
. Pushing her inhibitions away. Leading her to where she wanted to go.
"Nothin' you don't want me to do," Will answered. "Ain't gonna rape ya!"
Aimee relaxed a little more. Like with Robbie and Sarah (although Aimee did not know this), the crystal knew all about her. What she wanted. What she liked. How she played with her pussy every night, plunging her fingers inside herself over and over until she fell asleep, exhausted from the number of orgasms she had given herself.
And how she loved watching porn and the kinds of videos she had stored away on her tablet, which only she had access to. The one with the ballerina having her tights ripped open by her male co-star and fucked, roughly. The one with the girl sucking the group of guys to completion grinning and laughing as they caked her face and body with cum. The one with the stranger who came in through the window and forced himself on the sweet, innocent young teen in her bedroom. The follow-up where the girl pretended to be asleep as the stranger came in and "forced" himself on her again.
"But I am gonna fuck ya," Will continued. "Fuck ya right here in front of yer daddy and make him watch as you cum all over my big cock!"
Aimee gasped, but not in fright. The idea that Will wanted to fuck her didn't surprise her (nor disgust her as it might have only a short while ago). Instead, it intrigued her. And the fact that her father would watch her was just mind-blowing. Her father would watch and get jealous and then, maybe... she didn't allow her thoughts to reach their logical conclusion.
Will wasn't overly gentle as he grabbed Aimee by the arm and stood her up. She screamed, slightly, but only for a moment. She knew what was about to happen to her and she was kind of looking forward to it. Her thoughts rested on her father. Her father was going to watch this man fuck her! He was going to see how well she took a cock and then he might... oh!
Will stood her in front of him. "Let's see how you take directions," he said. "Fuckin' strip!"
"I... I don't want to," she said unconvincingly.
"Either you strip, or I'll get our Davey to do it and he ain't gentle. That pretty shirt you got on will be ripped to fuck and yer jeans'll be in bits around yer ankles. And our Davey likes to bite!" This was bullshit, Will knew. Davey was possibly the gentlest man Will had ever met (which maybe explained why Tim loved him so much), but with his missing teeth and his perpetual look of detached lunacy, he looked threatening enough and that would have to suffice.
Aimee nodded and pulled her t-shirt over her head. Like her mother, Aimee wore a bra that was a little too small (though in her case it was because she hated the idea of spending what little money she had on a new one when this one so nearly fitted) but her breasts didn't overflow the bra like Sarah's did. Nevertheless, it was quite skimpy and some of the lace was a little ripped and she was showing a lot of side-boob that the bra wasn't really designed for.
The worst rips in the material were to the left, which happened to be the side facing her father who was now starting to hyperventilate a little at how beautiful his daughter was. He loved his wife - desperately. But he maybe loved his daughter just a little more.
"Nice," Will said. "Get rid of it," he pointed to the bra. Aimee did that movement that almost all females over the age of about twelve seem to know instinctively and which men never really seem to master and the bra fell to the floor. Unlike Sarah, Aimee made no effort to cover herself. She was exposed, yes - but she was enjoying it and from the sound of his increasingly laboured breath, so was her father.
