Family Weekend Ch. 04: Home Alone

All Characters In This Story Are 18+ Years Old.

*****

Saturday morning Sally Martin took her cup of coffee out to the patio. Her brother, Claude James, and her 18-year old daughter, Nel, had just left the house. Already she felt the emptiness their absence caused. She patted her round 15-week baby bump softly as she sat on an orange enameled deck chair with a woven lemon-and-lime plastic gimp seat and back. She sipped her coffee and set the mug on the matching glass-topped patio table. "Don't you fret, Little It," she said affectionately to her unidentified passenger, "Our daddy and your sister are just away for a couple of days."

She sighed and looked to her left at the perennial garden between the patio and the fence. Her mother, Carla James, loved the 'Chocolate Flower', berlanderia lyrata, and her urn, recently placed in the Chinese stone pedestal lantern, was surrounded by the golden yellow daisies, which, even at a distance smelled of chocolate. The patio border and stepping stone path into the garden was covered with plumbago, which was beginning to show its deep red fall color. There remained a few final blooms of the papaver croceum poppies. Their bright yellow spots sparkled in the morning sun.

Sally picked up her coffee, strolled into the garden and sat on the stone bench beside the brass sundial, opposite her mother's ashes. "Thank you so much, Mom," she said quietly. "You were undoubtedly right to keep your secret. I probably would not have coped well with the knowledge that Claude was my true father and Dad was just your husband." She slurped another sip of coffee. "But, you know, I had a secret, too. And maybe I would have felt less shame or guilt if... Oh, what am I saying? I needed every one of my life experiences to understand and accept my real happiness at being here... now... with Claude and Nel... and our expected family additions." She touched her tummy again and drained her mug. "So, again, THANK YOU SO MUCH, Mom. I'm glad you're here with us. I love you."

Sally stood and walked into the house, rinsed her empty cup in the sink and loaded it into the dishwasher. Staring through the daffodil gauze curtains at the window over the stainless steel sink, she suddenly was transported to her high school graduation day in Pasadena, CA on Saturday, June 8, 1996.

Sally looked at the clock as she rushed through the kitchen, toweling her hair after a quick ten lengths in the family swimming pool. It was 8:30 a.m. Carla was pouring herself a cup from the Mr. Coffee coffee-maker on the sideboard, in front of the mullioned window, where she had been watching Sally breaststroke to the shallow end and freestyle back to the deep end. "So graceful, so fast." Carla thought proudly.

Ben James was reading the L.A. Times sports page predictions for the upcoming NBA Draft. "Everyone likes Alan Iverson," he muttered, biting into his toast. "What the fuck is wrong with Ray Allen? Not that he'll be around for the Lakers' pick!" He looked up as Sally moved past the lemon Formica kitchen table. He liked looking at her in her wet Speedo tank suit. It was like second skin and she had a great body. He guesstimated she was the classic hourglass: 36-24-26. "Too bad she's moving so fast... no view of her cute little cunt's outline," he silently cursed his luck, watching over the rim of his coffee cup.

Sally dashed down the hall and entered her room, next to her older brother Claude's bedroom. While this had been generally unused for years, it was still his when he came home for holidays or other visits. He was 19 years older than Sally and a professional mediator, traveling around the country constantly. Sally smiled whenever she thought of him. He always treated her special and gave great hugs. Crossing the room to the connecting shared bathroom, she turned on the shower taps, closed the bathroom doors and peeled off of her Speedo. She was unaware of Ben's specific interest in her, but she knew schoolboys ogled her and she was proud of her toned 35C-23-35 shape. She ran her hands over her body, admiring herself in the mirror, while the shower heated up. When the room was nice and steamy, little beads of perspiration started to pop on her breast tops. She opened and stepped through the frosted glass door, then turned slowly under the tall spout, letting the hot spray plaster her long straight light brown hair flat to her skull. She luxuriated in the rivers flowing from her shoulders over her tits, down her sternum past her belly and through her curly pubic triangle. She looked down happily at the clump of dripping hairs. Just last year she had still been almost bald down there. "I'm really sprouting... pretty soon I'll have to pluck, wax or shave so I'll stay sleek in my bathing suit," she mused.

Sally neither heard, nor saw, Ben, lounging behind her, against the bathroom counter, studying her foggy pink silhouette through the steam and frosted glass. He had walked in unnoticed, through Claude's room, and slipped both doors' bolt locks while his daughter was bent into the spray and examining herself. He was naked under a thick monogrammed navy blue terry robe. The sash was tied, but his standing cock was working hard at pushing its head out to see what was so exciting.

Sally began lathering and rubbing her washcloth across her body. There was plenty of time yet, before she needed to get ready to go to the high school auditorium for commencement. She loved the sensation of the rough cloth and the slippery soap as she scrubbed the chlorine and other pool chemicals off her skin. Her nipples tingled and stood at right angles to her large cafe-au-lait colored areolae which had puffed up like soufflés when she brushed them with the soapy rag. Her hand slid south and dipped between her legs, cleansing her young tight pussy lips. She never resisted the urge to tickle her button. It felt too good. "Uhnnnnnnn," she moaned, as the spray splashed her upturned face and her washcloth sparked thrilling jolts from her clit to her tummy. She collapsed her legs around the rag and drew it like a rope from front to back, sawing in between her labia. "Yesss, yesss, uuunnnhh!" She groaned as the tickle turned into the familiar nerve jangling little explosion she so loved.

Sally wrung out the cloth and rinsed thoroughly, then shut off the taps and stepped through the door onto the bathmat. "DAD!" She shrieked, when she saw Ben, holding out a towel for her and smiling enigmatically.

"Hi, Sugar Beet," Ben said, calmly, shaking the towel. "I thought you would want a fresh clean towel." He held the offered towel so that it screened her view of his erection, tenting his robe, but blocked none of his vision of her full frontal nudity, in all its fresh-scrubbed glowing glory. "You are truly beautiful," he said with unbridled admiration.

Sally grabbed the towel as quickly as her stunned reflexes allowed and pulled it toward her, hoping to regain a modicum of modesty. Ben stood, following with it, not letting go of his grip on the corners. "Dad!" She exclaimed, again, but at lower volume, "What are you DOING in here? REALLY!"

Ben closed the gap between them, wrapping the towel around his daughter and pressing his robe against her. "Like I said," he whispered huskily, "I wanted you to have a fresh towel." He pulled her close against his chest and rubbed the terrycloth up and down her bare back, drying her neck, spine and the top half of her ass with slow careful strokes. Sally stood rigid, unsure what to do or say. She liked the feel of his strong hands, but she was upset by the invasion of her privacy and he was, after all, her father.

He hovered his cheeks and mouth near her face. She smelled his aftershave and his sweet peppermint breath. "God!" She thought, "Why am I wanting him to hold me tighter?" Without conscious design, Sally melted against her father's shoulder and hugged him back, running her fingers along his belted waist, kneading the robe covering his taut buttocks. "He's naked, too!" She realized, pulling the hem of the robe up until it was bunched in her hands. She dropped her hands. Suddenly they were covered by the robe and squeezing his bare cheeks. "Did I tell them to do that?" She wondered. Her pussy ached and oozed. "Nnnuuuhh," She groaned, opening her mouth and sucking the navy robe.

Ben grinned and kissed her neck. "Such a good girl," he buzzed in her ear. He pushed her back through the glass door into the shower stall, up against its tiled back wall. "Pull my cheeks, Sugar Beet," he urged. "Explore. It's all OK." He pushed his hands hard onto her bottom, following his own guidance, separating her glutes and probing her rosebud before sliding his right hand around to her front and covering her creaming cunny with his palm.

Sally gasped involuntarily at the contact. "M-m-mom!" She mumbled through the thick robe.

"Mom went shopping. Just you and me here." Ben breathed hotly, dropping the towel and bumping his daughter's belly with his eager dick while he pulsed his palm on her trembling twat.

Sally had made out with boys, but, always had been resolved that no one should ever actually get in her pants. French kisses and copped feels were the extent of allowances she made for her dates' libidos. Now her own dad was touching her. This was naughty. This felt terrific! Her pussy lips opened of their own accord, her hips rocked forward, pushing her cunt hard onto her father's fingers. He slipped two of them between the quivering outer lips and slid to the top of her crease. "UUuunhh," she moaned, just as he had heard her do when she was in the shower alone. He tweaked her swelling bud. Sally yipped. The jolt she felt was stronger and longer than her own manipulations. She lifted her face from Ben's robe and cried, "YESS!" Was that hoarse voice, echoing off the dripping tile and glass, hers? "UUuuuhhhh!"

"Salllly, Sallllly, Sallllly," Ben repeated softly, like a mantra, drawing her name out, "Can you come for me? Will you come for me?" He inserted a third finger, but then stopped. "What is this?" He asked with mock surprise, recognizing the blockage just inside her tunnel.

"Nnnuuuuhhn, uuhhnnn," Sally whimpered, her face once more pressed onto her dad's muscular chest. She rubbed her cheek on the embroidered initials on his robe, unable to hear the question or answer, so rapt was she by the powerful tension building inside her body. She clawed at Ben's ass and pinched. He flexed against the delightful pain, and pushed back, trying to break his own skin on her manicured nails.

Ben twisted his hand against Sally's inner thighs and pushed. She responded and spread her feet to the corners of the stall floor. He gripped his cock, threading its purple head through the dark wet curly forest above her cunt to her virgin door. He pushed it past the soft pliant guardians and tapped, with little thrusts, against her tight tiny aperture.

"Hyanh!" Sally groaned, opening her mouth and dropping her slack jaw. "Hyanh!" Her tongue tip extended and discovered a patch of curly hair on Ben's chest in the open folds of his robe. She burrowed, tasting his delicious salt. "HYANH!" Her groan turned into a surprised anxious exclamation as she felt her barrier resist her father's insistent prick.

"SALLY!" Ben shouted, intentionally loud, while he jerked her ass forward and rammed his hips, hard, against her pelvis. His rod breached her and sunk halfway into her deflowered vagina.

"AYYYEEEE!" Sally screamed. Her ears rang. She lost her breath as Ben slammed her back against the ceramic wall and held her, pinned on his dick. Her pussy smarted like she had been burned. The heat from the fullness in her cunt radiated through her. She clutched his butt and pulled him against her, feeling the pain and his sliding cock disappear. Sally's muscles knew what to do, even if she herself did not. She flexed her ass and rolled her hips. The tension released and she came, wonderfully, while Ben chuckled and held her.

"Atta girl, Sugar Beet," he cooed, starting his strokes. Up. Hold. Back. Pause. He did not rush. He savored the tight grip his little girl maintained on his throbbing stalk. Up. Hold. Back. Pause. He listened to her warbling, babbling pleasure sounds as her orgasm continued. "OK, Sally," he coached, "Here comes Daddy!" His own surge rose from his nuts. He drove his dick to its deepest depth, crunched his abs and lifted his hips another fraction of an inch, laminating himself to Sally's shaking body. Her tits were flat against his as he fired his load.

Sally collapsed against her dad. Ben withdrew his bone and gathered her gently in his arms, peeling her away from the wall. He backed out of the shower and over to the door to her bedroom. She stood, propped against him as he unbolted the door and turned the knob. "Come with me, Sugar Beet," he said sweetly, "There's more."

Sally was entranced. She followed Ben to her double bed and watched as he pulled down the green and white popcorn chenille bedspread and threw back the blanket and top sheet. He spread a new towel on the bottom sheet and guided her until she was laying on her back centered on the protective cloth. Ben looked at the thin dribbling pinkish-rose stains on his little girl's thighs. He hummed an old Neil Diamond tune as he climbed on the bed between her legs, modifying the lyrics in his head:

"Girl, you're a woman, now

Now, you need a man."

Ben hunched over Sally's open bleeding pussy and delivered his steel cock once more into its waiting warm wet embrace. He slid easily and deep. She gathered him to her chest and rocked her shoulders as he rhythmically stroked. Sally's legs raised and bent back, spreading wider. She bounced her bottom on the bedsprings, meeting her charger at the apex of each thrust. Ben puffed with the exertion. She slid her hands along his back and pushed his head down until she could kiss his lips. It seemed odd to her to kiss her father, as a lover, for the first time, after he had already fucked her and was in her again. Odd, and yet, so natural. She pushed her tongue through his lips and teased him as he pounded her pussy harder and faster.

Her moment was approaching again. She felt the first shudder and broke their kiss. "AYYYEEEE! DAD! Oh God! DAAAAAD!" She screamed, thrashing under his weight as the train hurtled on its tracks and overran her.

"AAARRRGGHH!" Ben cried, blasting his elixir into her tunnel. "Yeah, Baby! DAD's right HEEEERRE!" He fell against his daughter and pulled her face to his, passionately devouring her mouth while his dick flexed and finished sending his best into her nest.

"Ooooohhhh," Sally exhaled a satisfied sigh and drug her fingers through Ben's close-cropped hair, trailing them down his neck and spreading across his scapulae. A flood of excruciating relief washed through her ravaged body. "Dad," she asked, in a small voice, "Will it... always be like this?"

Ben smiled and kissed her lightly. "No, Sugar Beet, not always." He touched her nose with his finger. "This was your first time. That can never happen again." He saw the disappointment in her eyes and hurried on, "But it may be even BETTER." He laughed softly. "Practice makes perfect, you know. Would you like your old Dad to help you practice? I would be happy to, you know, anytime."

"Um, I guess, yes," Sally answered. "But we mustn't tell Mom."

"No, we mustn't tell ANY one," Ben underscored.

Sally shivered and shook her memory from her mind, returning to find herself standing at the kitchen sink, staring through her daffodil curtains. She could not as easily shake the wetness from her pregnant pussy, however. "Well, I never told Mom and I'm sure not going to tell Claude. If Carla can go to the grave with a secret, so can I." She touched herself beneath her quilted housecoat. "Oh, Daddy! Oh, Claude! Come home to me!"

*

Sally was showered, refreshed and dressed in a pair of comfortable, stretchy, loose legged green polyester Bermuda shorts. She wore a white pima cotton blouson top with daisy petal lace cut-outs along its scooped peasant neck and the hems of its short puffed sleeves. She idly wiggled her bare toes in her house scuffs as she sat at the yellow Formica and chrome kitchen table looking at paint and wallpaper samples in a loose-leaf binder from Sherwin-Williams. The doorbell rang. She looked at the wall clock and noted it was just past 3 o'clock. "Wonder who that is?" she said aloud, scooting her chair back and heading for the front door.

Who it was, was Keanna Harris, Sally's 30-year old friend and neighbor, from across the street, who had been so thoughtful during the days immediately following Carla's passing. Her casseroles and salads were well appreciated by Sally, Claude and Nel. Keanna was a lovely, tall, African-American former fashion model who had retired from the runway and taken up the quieter suburban Rocky Mountain life. She augmented her substantial savings, which had been, and remained, well invested, by giving in-home cosmetics and fashion shows for private clientele more interested in discretion and high quality than price. She stood ruler-straight on 3" high heels, pushing her normal 5'10" height above the six-foot mark. Her fashionable cream sharkskin suit jacket and knee-length pencil skirt set off the warm cocoa tones of her flawless face and slender hands. Anyone with eyes would notice her 34C-24-34 figure, despite the modest cut of her clothes and her understated poise.

"Hey, girl," Keanna casually greeted Sally, as the front door opened. Sally did not recognize the tall, athletic looking, young man beside her friend. "You said you were 'batching it' for the long weekend... You want to grab a pizza with me and Derek tonight and/or do something fun?" Keanna asked. Her bright pearly teeth flashed as she smiled.

Sally tilted her head quizzically, looking again at Derek. "This is just a kid... can't be more than 16," she guessed to herself. "What's up with THAT?" She wondered. Aloud she answered, "Hey, Keanna... yeah, Claude and Nel had a function, so it's just me until Monday night." She grinned broadly back at her neighbor. "Um, I'm doing some things right now, but, yeah, I could be up for pizza in a couple of hours..." Her voice trailed off. She was trying not to be rude, but her eyes kept returning to the strapping young man on her porch. He was in Reeboks and stood half a head taller than Keanna. "He must be 6'4" at least," she gauged, "And built." She studied, with small incremental peeks, his slim muscular frame she associated with basketball players. Her image was helped by his black Puma warm-ups and his long slender fingers and large hands.

Keanna hugged Derek to her side and said, "I'm sorry, Sally! I completely forgot you've never met my nephew, Derek Holmes. Derek, this is Sally Martin. Sally, this is Derek."

Derek stuck out his right shovel and took Sally's offered hand. "Nice to meet you, Ms. Martin," he said in a soft, almost shy, drawl.

Sally nodded her head and agreed. "Nice to meet you, too, Derek." Turning to Keanna, she said, "How about 6 or 6:30? Too late for you?"

"No, that's perfect." Keanna said, looking at her nephew. "You can hold out that long without food, can't you?" She turned back to Sally. "If I had known how much an 18-year old can pack away, I might have asked my sister for a food allowance for the weekend!" She laughed lightly while Derek scuffed his toe on the step and said nothing. "So, Sally, what kind of project are you working on?"

"I was studying paint chips and drape swatches," Sally replied, "but now I want to get some boxes out of the attic and go through them before we start to plan our move into the new house. It's going to close next week." She shook her head and whistled. "Things can move so fast sometimes. We were really lucky the buyers of this house are in an apartment and can be patient, but I want to get it all done and over with, you know?"