Caretakers - Daddy's MistressbyTheMedi8or©
Daddy had a mistress.
It was hard for Sharon to believe, even knowing that her parents had slept in separate room for years. Even before her mom's illness she had never seen them be an overtly affectionate couple. Her dad worked and took care of them, and mom stayed home and got more and more depressed. She had been relieved to move out; the constant tension in the house had been more than she could stand.
Then the stroke had hit mom and Sharon had come home. She didn't regret her decision, her parents needed her, but it was still hard to see her mother almost completely bed-bound, and her father looking constantly exhausted and turned inward. She knew he wasn't trying to ignore her, it was just all he could do to keep going. Still, it hurt.
Now there was this. Sharon didn't know how to feel about it. On one hand, he was cheating on her mother. On the other hand, there was a change in him she had never seen before and it was incredible to watch.
The change in him had come about three weeks previously. Things had been awkward for the weeks before that - since The Event. It had take on capital letters in her mind, since she didn't really like to actually form the words "I caught my father masturbating." The whole thing had just been too disturbing. To slip into his room and see him stroking himself like that had been embarrassing. Then he had opened his eyes and looked at her -- he had even said her name -- and she had just stood there and watched as he came in his hand with a ferocity that seemed like it should have broken bones.
The whole thing had made her feel weird. She was embarrassed - horrified -- and yet sometimes in the dark the visual would return to her and she would get that warm feeling that made her even more uncomfortable.
So they hadn't talked about it. They were both too caught up in their own mortification to say out loud what they were thinking; so they hadn't talked about anything for weeks. Unless it was to ask for help moving mom, or let him know she was heading for work, they exchanged nothing but empty pleasantries. She took to avoiding him when she could, which meant she had become very aware of where he was at all times, and things only got tenser.
Then, about three weeks ago, Daddy had come home late. The change in him had been immediately noticeable. He was smiling -- really smiling -- for the first time since the stroke. He had given her a quick hug, and she was so startled that she hadn't even realized what was happening until it was over. He had chatted with her amicably over breakfast while she tried not to lose the toast out of her mouth as it tried repeatedly to drop open.
His mood had been better ever since. She guessed he must be getting together with the mystery woman about once a week, since it was almost every Saturday that he came home late and was especially cheerful. It might have been more though, because he occasionally began leaving early in the evenings too.
It was the not knowing for sure that began to get to her. She was pretty sure her dad was having an affair. She thought that had to be the reason for his good mood. But what if it was something else -- something worse? Or what if there was something about the woman that might hurt her mom worse than this? What if he left her mom? What would they do then?
Slowly, the questions began to drive her nuts. And subtly, other questions began to sneak themselves in. What was she like, this woman sleeping with her Daddy? Was she pretty? What did they do? The memories of The Event began flashing back stronger and more frequently and began to fall asleep with the sound of her father's voice in her ears, calling out her name.
Did he call out this other woman's name?
Finally, she couldn't stand it anymore. She had to know. The following Saturday she handed her friend Betsy the house keys and instructions on what to do if her mother woke up. It was early yet, so mom shouldn't be awake for hours. Sliding behind the wheel of her old beat up rust-bucket, she wondered if she was really going to do this. She could just as easily go grocery shopping and come home as if she had never thought up this insane scheme. Sighing, she decided it was too late for sanity, and turned the key.
She drove to her father's work and spotted his car immediately. She had dropped things off for him in the past, so she knew where he parked.
Finding a spot on the other side of the lot, she made sure she could see both the exit and his car, curled her hands around her coffee cup and waited.
At exactly 7:30, the door opened and a flood of night-shift employees made their way to the parking lot, laughing together in clumps of twos and threes. They waved cheerfully as they parted ways, heading for their various cars and obviously delighted to be going out the door.
Her father was easy to spot. He sauntered in that oh-so-familiar way, a distinct difference from the quicker paces of the other employees. At his side strolled a short, curvy woman with dark hair and she was smiling at him and talked animatedly about something. He was nodding in response to whatever she was saying, but his hands were in his pockets and his eyes were on the ground.
The woman walked her father to his car and they stood chatting for several minutes. Was this her? She was certainly pretty in a Venus kind of way. Mom was curvy too, so apparently that was her father's type.
Finally, the woman turned and began to head in Sharon's direction. She had to resist the urge to duck down, knowing that it would just grab attention. There was no way this woman knew what she looked like anyways. The brunette passed her and reached for the door handle of a nearby Honda.
It couldn't be her. Holy shit she's nearly my age!
Just then, her phone rang. Her heartbeat picked up and she picked it up, hoping it wasn't Betsy to tell her there was something wrong. Instead, her dad's ID showed on the screen.
"Everything okay at the house?"
"Ya, mom's still sleeping."
"Okay, she should be out for awhile. I need to go pick up a few things so I'll be late coming home today, okay? Do you need anything?"
"No, I'm okay dad. Thanks"
"No problem baby girl. Call if you need me, okay?"
"Okay Daddy, see you soon."
Sharon felt a flush of shame at her deception as she hung up. She saw her father's break lights come on and shifted her car into drive. If this turned out to be nothing, if her dad headed for the grocery store, she was going to feel like crap.
For the first twenty minutes of the drive, the growing sensation that she had risked her mother's care for nothing was suffocating. Them just as she was deciding to make the turn and beat her father home, he took a left when she should have gone right.
In moments he was pulling up in front of a huge Victorian style house. Sharon recognized the car already there immediately. It was the blue-grey Honda she had seen the brunette getting into. She cruised past, breathed a sigh of relief that she drove such a common-looking car and found a parking space on the street several houses down. Turning the car off, she decided that it would be easy from there to watch them in her rearview mirror.
Her father slid out of the car like a man much younger than his 64 years. He met the brunette halfway between the cars and the kiss they shared was so passionate it almost took Sharon's breath away as she sat in the now-still car. Her breath began to show in the rapidly dropping temperature and she hunched her shoulders together as she watched them pull back and stare at each other for a long while.
Holy shit, this wasn't just an affair. She thought her dad might be in love. Why else look at a woman like that?
She felt the traces of something unpleasant and mean slide through her gut. It was joined almost immediately by the fear that had plagued her on and off for the last few weeks. What if he left her mother? What if he left HER?
As the happy couple walked up the stairs and into the front door, Sharon's mind began to race. She couldn't help but start imagining her father gone, forever lost to the arms of this woman. She imagined struggling to care of her mother on her own. She imagined her mother dying and herself alone. She knew that, logically, her father just wasn't like that. If he had been he would have left long before now, but logic had no seat in the cold, empty car with her. Instead, that mean feeling that she refused to acknowledge as jealousy sank into the passengers' seat and began to whisper.
She had planned on simply following Daddy and finding out for sure what he did during his Saturday mornings. She had her proof now and she could do whatever she liked with it. However, now that she had seen them together, the nasty meanness in her wanted more.
It was my name he said you bitch.
She banished the thought immediately, but the feeling remained. Before she knew quite what she was going she was headed for the front door.
I'll ring the bell and tell him to get home where he belongs.
She reached the top of the steps and hesitated before the door, hand over the bell. She couldn't ring it. Instead, she found herself trying the knob, and it turned easily under her shaking fingers. Pushing the door open, she looked into an entryway, lined with coats and shoes. She could hear the soft tread of footsteps and giggling coming from above her and see the corner of a staircase just inside the main house.
Sharon realized that this must be some sort of communal living house. Anyone with the money to own a place like this certainly wouldn't be working in the hospital, and the number of boots on the floor suggested a lot of people taking their shoes of before going any further.
Her glance fell on a pair of worn black sneakers that she recognized, and she felt a little sick. She took two steps inside the house, gaze fixed on those sneakers, and shut the door behind her. She could still hear whispered voices above her, so either they had paused on the second floor, or the woman's room was there.
The question was answered when she heard another door open and the sound of more steps being climbed. Slipping her own shoes off, Sharon silent ascended the first set just in time to see legs disappearing up the stairs and the second door in the hallway closing behind them.
She paused in the hallway, resting her hand on the door and tried to think. No one knew she was here yet; she could still just walk away. She lingered, half-hoping for someone in one of the other rooms to make a noise, frighten her out of this weird, half-daze she was in and give her a reason to go running home. Instead, she heard above her the first sounds of pleasure coming from the third floor, and she opened the door.
She climbed these stairs even more quietly than the first. Not sure what she would find, she came to the top of the stairway and found herself in a large loft apartment. She was obviously in the living room area from the cheap brown couch against the wall and the computer tucked into the corner. Turning, she could see a curtained-off area, obviously leading to the bedroom space.
There was a window on that side of the loft, and the sun was shining through it, casting the silhouette of two figures onto the curtain that should have protected them from view. The shadows clung together, mouths joined and she could hear the mouth of a woman whimpering under her father's lips.
"Oh God, Stacey I've missed you." Her father's low voice rolled across the loft when they stopped for air, and Sharon's breath caught, sure he must be able to hear her heartbeat if she could hear him so clearly.
Daddy's mind was on other things however, and Sharon could only watch as her father's shadow unbuttoned the woman's -- Stacey's-shirt and dropped it to the floor. His hands unfastened her bra and stroked her breasts and Stacey's cries came through even more clearly than Daddy's voice had.
Sharon shook her head, trying to lose the vision before her and leave while she still could, but her feet seemed to have a mind of their own and an odd tingling was developing over her own skin as she listened to the sound of her father making love.
"Stop, oh God Mark, stop for a minute. I can't stand it." The woman's voice shook under the assault of Daddy's hands and his low laugh sent a shudder through Sharon as it made Stacey moan again. She pulled away from him, her shadow so defined against the curtain that Sharon could see her erect nipples as if they had been right in front of her. She wondered what they felt like under her father's hands. What had he done to make this woman so aroused so quickly?
Without quite realizing what she was doing, Sharon's hands rose to her own chest, and she began to stroke her nipples through her shirt as she continued to watch.
The silhouettes continued their love dance, Stacey quickly rid her lover of his shirt, and then his jeans. Sharon almost gasped out loud as she saw her father's cock spring into view. She would have run then, but she was too afraid of making noise, and too startled by the sheer size of it. Yes, she had seen it briefly that one time, but she had been too embarrassed at the time to get a clear picture of how big it was.
Her father's mistress knelt in front of him and took him in her mouth. Sharon realized her impression of size wasn't exaggerated, because it was obvious Stacey couldn't even fit him halfway into her mouth. Daddy's hands were on the woman's hair, and he was rocking her, sliding himself in and out of her mouth and trying to get her to take more of him.
"Oh God Stacey, your mouth is so hot. That feels so good." Her father's voice was almost unrecognizable now and Sharon simply had to know what was going on. Taking two steps to the left, she could see the edge of them, and she prayed that Daddy wouldn't look up. She was overwhelmed with a combination of fear, shame and excitement and her body seemed to have a mind of its own. She could see Stacey's naked back -- she still had her close fitting back work slacks on. She rested on her knees and one hand, the other in front of her, apparently gripping Daddy's cock. Her father's head was back and his eyes were closed as he rocked himself into this stranger, gripping her dark hair as if hanging on for life.
Sharon stepped back just as she heard him gasp for a break.
"It's my turn, I need you."
The springs on the bed creaked, and the two figures -- shadows once again to Sharon-arranged themselves together. Her father was on top, his back to the doorway into the bedroom area. The woman would be facing the door, but Daddy's body would block her view of it. With the crazy idea that she was just looking to REALLY catch him in the act, Sharon stepped back, fully into the doorway in time to see her father slide himself into Stacey.
Their cries sent an instant heat through her pelvis. She felt her nipples harden further under her shirt, responding to the sounds and to the smell of sex in the air. She eyes were glued to her father's rear as he began to thrust. He was so long, and the angle was such that she could just see him when he slid out, hard and shining with another woman's juices. She could see his balls beating rhythmically against Stacey's ass while she wrapped her legs around him and moved with him.
Stacey didn't understand the sensations sweeping through her. She had seen men naked before, but none of them had been nearly as large as her father. She had even had sex a few times, and she had never really understood what the big deal was. It was kind of fun, but then it was over and all she had ever felt was a vague disappointment.
Here however, watching these two people as they thrust and moaned and cried out together, Stacey felt almost dizzy with the rush of heat flooding through her. Instead of the mild pleasant sensation she had felt between her legs before, there was an ache that demanded attention. Her breasts felt tender and her nipples brushed against her bra every time she breathed. She didn't know what to do, she felt glorious and agitated all at the same time and the vision of her father calling her name as he came was blinding her.
"Honey we have an audience." Stacey's breathless whisper came through her moans, and Sharon realized to her horror that the woman was looking right at her. "Oh god baby she's so beautiful. And she's playing with her nipples. Oh God, honey I think she's really turned on!"
Sharon pulled her hand from her breasts, realizing for the first time what she had been doing. She was standing in a stranger's house-which she had broken in to-and she was watching her father have sex with his girlfriend. And she was turned on. Her pussy ached, her nipples were practically begging for a mouth. All of this from watching Daddy. Turning, she fled from the room, heading for the stairs before Daddy could turn and realize who it was Stacey was talking about.
As she reached the stair, she heard a roar of hunger and desire from the room she had left. It mingled with the higher pitched sounds of Stacey's voice. Sharon had to stop, and her own eye closed involuntarily at the image of her father and his lover coming together. They were coming together because they were turned on by being watched. They were being watched by her.
The shudder that went through her drew a quiet moan from her own lips that was drowned out by the sounds behind her.
With a sob that was half pain and half need, she fled.