Hello everyone, this is my first attempt at a story for this site so please let me know what you think. Construction criticism and feedback is welcome and I apologise in advance for any errors in spelling or grammar. If the reception for this work is positive I have an idea for a number of sequels. I hope you enjoy!
And all characters are over eighteen.
* * *
I lay sprawled on my bed, quietly fuming. I'd broken up with my boyfriend Mark about two weeks ago after I'd caught him fucking his ex-girlfriend, and while I was mostly over it the memory still stung whenever I thought about it. But this wasn't why I was angry. Mark and I had been pretty active, and I was starting to feel the irritation that going without brings on. My parents were going out tonight with the Mercers, and so I'd been looking forward to having the house to myself and getting a little me time.
So of course tonight had to be the night where my parents caught my brother with alcohol and decide to ground him.
I know I can't really blame my brother. I used to smuggle drinks to my friends when I was even younger than he is, only I managed to never get caught. Except for one time with dad, but I managed to wiggle my way out of it. Still, my sympathy for him was overlaid with annoyance that he had to caught tonight of all nights, and it took a lot of self control not to thump him.
I was still lying on my bed, wondering whether or not I should just go to a club and hope to pick someone up when there was a knock on the door and my dad spoke through it.
"Can I come in?"
"Yeah," I sighed, and my dad stepped in cautiously. He and mum always knew when I was annoyed, and he in particular knew when to leave me alone. Mum, unfortunately, did not.
Dad stood half in the doorway, looking at me with faint concern. He wore black trousers with a matching jacket and tie over one of his few button-up white shirts ― what he generally referred to as his "adult clothes". He was hopeless when it came to clothes, and it usually fell to mum or me to dress him whenever he had to go out.
"You look nice dad," I said casually. "Mum might have to keep a close eye on Mrs Mercer tonight."
Sensing my tone, dad sauntered over to my mirror and looked at himself proudly. "That she might," he said critically, then glanced at me in the mirror briefly. "And at least one of us is nicely attired," he said archly.
It was then that I spared a quick look down at myself. I'd changed into an old nightshirt which was getting a little small for me, and as I'd shifted on my bed it had ridden up, exposing most of my midriff. I sat up and tugged it down impatiently, checking my appearance in the mirror to see if it was any better. As I did my eyes wandered over to my dad's reflection in the mirror ― and noticed his eyes were fixed on the reflection of my breasts, which were straining under the tight fabric of my shirt. Even more surprising was the sudden burst of heat I felt from between my legs, and I felt the muscles of my thighs tense and squeeze together. I looked down involuntarily and bit my lip to stifle a groan, and when I looked back up again my dad was intent on his own reflection once more.
Dad attempted to straighten, his tie a final time, causing it to actually become crooked, and then turned and headed for the door. He paused before leaving and said, "I just came to tell you mum and I are leaving now, so be nice to your brother okay. We probably won't be home until late, so help yourselves to the lasagne left in the fridge and whatever Drew doesn't eat, throw out."
"Yes dad," I sighed, and then as he went to leave I called him back. "Let me fix your tie, mum hates it when it's crooked."
He stood still as I fiddled with his tie and collar, trying to get it straight and presentable. He was a little taller than me, and as I fiddled I realised that if he looked down he would have a lovely view at his daughter's firm breasts, and a slight glance upward showed me he was taking advantage of it, and not very subtly either. I felt that heat again, and couldn't help pressing myself against him. I struggled to hold in a moan, but then one slipped out as I felt his hardness push against my thigh and I started rubbing against it. I felt one of his hands cup my behind, and I have no idea how far it might have gone if mum hadn't inadvertently interrupted us.
"John, three minutes!" she yelled from somewhere downstairs, and we immediately stepped apart. My face felt warm, and I would have been embarrassed if it wasn't for the look of hunger of my dad's face before it suddenly disappeared.
"Try to have a good night," dad said, and gave me a quick (fatherly) hug and peck on the head. "And try not to be too mad at your brother. Your mum's the one who grounded him. And besides," he said pointedly, "someday you may enjoy having him around."
I frowned. "I know, but he was still stupid." And then I couldn't help but grin slightly as I added, "Although he could have always tried to reason with her, like I did with you."
Dad's face immediately reddened. He opened his mouth to say something, thought better of it, and turned and left my room. I heard his footsteps on the stairs, the muffled sound of my mum's laughter, and the front door slamming shut. A few seconds later the car started up and he was gone.
But the heat between my thighs was not.
* * *
I spent most of the late afternoon and early night moping in my room, trying to find a way to distract myself. I had a few toys and other things that could have dealt with my frustrations quickly and easily, but Drew's presence in the house killed that possibility. I get quite vocal, and even if he was plugged into his computer playing some lame videogame there was a significant chance he could hear me, so I was forced to try ignore the problem.
My encounter with dad had only made it worse though, and as much as I tried to immerse myself in my music on the dramas constantly unfolding on my friend Lana's Facebook page, my mind kept returning to the feel of his hardness against my leg. I knew it was sick and wrong, and despite my age probably still illegal, I had liked it. It didn't help that I'd already seen it, and I couldn't stop myself wondering what it would taste like or feel like as it inched inside of me―
Enough! I stood up and decided to try eating dinner. With luck it would take my mind off my dad, sex, and most especially sex with my dad. I headed downstairs, passing Drew's room and the muted sounds of special effects explosions from within, and into the kitchen. I pulled the lasagne from the fridge, served myself slightly more than a third of what remained and plonked it in the microwave.
It was while I was waiting for my food to heat up that my mind drifted back to my dad, and I wondered what would have happened if mum hadn't interrupted us, or if it had happened while it was just us home. Would we have had sex? I didn't know. We were almost basically dry humping, and I knew we almost definitely would have continued with that. And at that moment I had been so horny I knew, unless dad had stopped me, I would have rode him until I came.
The microwave beeped, disrupting my train of thought, but I knew how I felt now. I would have had sex with my dad if he'd been willing, and I'm pretty sure that in the heat of the moment he might have gone for it. But I doubted he'd let himself be put in that situation again: he loved mum, and he was not the kind of guy that would cheat. Which left me as high and dry as before.
I ate my lasagne mechanically, too busy thinking to bother actually tasting the meal. For a second, dad had looked like a possible answer to my problem, but now I doubted it. I rarely got the house to myself, which meant I couldn't really masturbate without whoever else was home knowing. And I didn't really want to go hook up with a random guy. I know I could, but that's not really my thing, and I needed regular release. Having numerous one-night stands was too risky.
I was filling up the sink to wash my plate when Drew stumbled in. He headed straight to the fridge and rooted around briefly before emerging. "What's for dinner?"
"Lasagne," I said. "Second shelf. Dad said that whatever we don't eat we should just toss out."
"Right," Drew said, and grabbed the tray with the lasagne in it. After judging it for a second he lumped the whole thing in the microwave and turned it on.
"You could use a plate, you know."
Drew shrugged. "Just means more washing up. Besides, it's microwave safe."
I moved on. Arguing with Drew just led to headaches. I starting washing my plate in the sink when I had that vague feeling you get when someone is looking at you. I craned my head and saw Drew studying the ceiling too intently to get away with being casual.
There was a window above and behind the sink, so as I resumed slowly washing my plate I looked at it. When it was dark, as it was now, it was possible to see a blurred reflection of the kitchen. As I looked, I saw Drew's hand turn to look in my direction, and although I couldn't see his face clearly, I was pretty sure he was looking at my ass.
This was a surprise. I knew Drew liked girls, and had caught him perving on my friends plenty of times, but as far as I knew he'd never really checked me out. In fact I rarely paid that much attention to Drew at all, not out of any malice but simply because we were different people and ran in different social circles. While I wasn't Miss Popular I did have a large and boisterous circle of friends, whereas Drew only had a few, and they were mostly of the skinny, awkward type. Drew himself was on the average side, and I'd noticed he tended to be quiet and uneasy around girls. Lana in particular loved flirting with him and making him blush, and delighted in teasing him with skimpy dresses and bikinis.
As Drew kept staring at my ass, I felt that heat stir between my legs again. It was not in the same league as what I'd felt with dad, but it was there, and I suspected I might be able to do something with this. I'd have to tread carefully though: I was pretty sure Drew was inexperienced, and if I was going to do anything it was vital for him to be into it. Last thing I wanted was for him to rat me out to dad, or worse, mum.
"I'm going for a shower," I announced as I span around, catching him briefly by surprise. Drew visibly started, then stared at the wall. I walked over him, stopping beside him so I was in profile, with my ass and breasts subtly thrust out. I had the satisfaction of seeing Drew's eyes bulge, and I doubt he even noticed the smile on my face.
