Hiding in My House Pt. 01

"Damn, honey," I heard Dad say. "Yes, move those hips like that some more. Fuuuccckkk..."

Smart me and stupid me had been arguing whether I was too chicken to try, but that unchickened me. Move them like what? I had to see just how she was moving those hips.

"Ooh, ooh, ooh, Daddy..."

"Yesss. Yes -- UH! -- god, yes!"

I made it to the corner of the doorway, squatting there with my shoulder against the wall. Then I tried to go up as slow as the elevator in my dorm freshman year had moved. I could see the mirror, nothing but ceiling in it. A little higher and the top of that picture-frame came into view -- the one with the potted flowers that faced the toilet.

No, shit, I'm too close to the wall. Angle's all wrong. I won't be able to see the shower at all from here.

I could move farther out toward the center of the hall, but that idea un-unchickened me. It just felt too exposed.

So... maybe just peep around the door-frame? No, there'd be an inch or two of my head poking out before I'd be able to see. I couldn't risk it. But...

Slipping my phone from my back pocket, I pulled up the camera app, set it to video. The corner with the lens wouldn't have to stick out more than a centimeter, centimeter and a half to get a shot. The two of them sounded pretty damn busy...

"Mmm, Kellie! Mmm! Yes!"

"Ah, uh-huh, pull my nips like that, uh-huh, more. Daddy, uhh -- love... you... so much..."

... yeah, they wouldn't notice a one-centimeter corner of a phone sticking out from the door, low and dark against the dim hallway. I slid the phone forward across the door-frame, saw nothing on the screen, nothing, nothing, a slice of light in the gap between the door and the frame... part of the room... the angle was making it hard to tell what I was looking at...

Bam.

He was taking her from behind again, up against the wall beneath the shower-head, same wall as the mirror was on. Her arms stuck straight out, hands spread against the tiles. Her head hung down in the spray, that long, dark-brown hair turned into a literal waterfall by it. I could see he had his hands on her tits, only with the screen so tiny and at that angle, I couldn't make out the details.

The plus side was, they'd have to completely turn their heads to catch me. And they were way too focused on each other to do that. I tilted and angled the phone, did a pinch-zoom, and then just squatted there and stared.

My sister is hot, okay? I mean, hot in that way where you just know she has to be fantastic in bed, because not only is her body curved and plush in all the right places and trim and toned in all the other right places, and not only is her face supermodel gorgeous with a side-helping of girl next door and a cherry on top of bi-racial Malaysian-American elegance, but she just has this thing going on, this smoulder in her poise and the way she moves and how her eyes focus and grab you and that liquid swelter in her laugh.

And we've talked sex, so I know she likes it. And she's not a bragger, so I know she didn't put any exaggerations into her claims of being able to keep a guy at the edge of orgasm for ten minutes while making sure she got off a half dozen times before the finale.

But holy shit.

Even on a little phone screen I was looking at from a bad angle and shooting through the spray-misted glass of the shower, she could move.

And all of her did.

Her hips and the small of her back tipped and untipped that ass of hers, twisted it, tilted it, rolled it in time to Dad's moaning, appreciative strokes. Her shoulders and upper spine squeezed and flexed, adding power and push to her rhythm. The deep brown curtains of her hair swung and streamed in the flow from the showerhead, and when she groaned or spoke, her neck arched to bring her face up into the spray, eyes clenched tight against it, lips wide and tongue extending into the water before she flicked out gems like:

"Uhhh... I want you to fuck me like this until my fingers prune. We need a bigger water heater, it's going to run out too soon..."

And then Dad, pumping forward on every other word, saying, "Mmf! Yes! Just added... that one... nnghh... to the... home... improvement... list..."

My dad -- he's really chiseled for a dude his age, though he's got more of a tummy these days than when we were kids. I've always been aware, abstractly, he's a sexy guy. Bright blue eyes, sandy blond hair, not much grey. But up to now I never let my mind wander to what he looked like, doing the deed. How his strong jaw would clench in concentration and bliss. How those familiar biceps would glide under his skin as he worked them to pull his lover back against the root of his cock every time he thumped it into her. How his hands would roam her flesh as it glistened and the spray spattered off it.

Which... good move on my part, because my imagination would've fallen so far short. Especially when it came to putting those two bodies together.

I mean, maybe I'm biased because I love them both, and maybe the fact they were doing that Mount Everest of taboos had something to do with it, and maybe in some way it was such a... such a beautiful contrast to what I saw when I walked in on Brandt and Eddi two days earlier (namely, just two assholes grunting and shaking a bed together). But whatever it was, I could have watched Dad and Kellie all day.

I think the wet tile and being up on their feet forced them to go a little slower than they'd been banging in her room a few minutes earlier. I mean, it was still potent, don't get me wrong. But more sure and steady. Back and out, forth and in, back and out, forth and in, then a little bit of holding against each other, grinding, grinding, grinding. A few cycles of that and Dad would reach past Kell's head to the shower caddy, get the body wash, slather it all over her back and waist and ass and boobs, reach a hand around and down along her belly until he could suds-up her clit (agonizingly out of sight for me at this angle) and milk the moans and gasps from her.

Then literally rinse and repeat.

After maybe the third trip to the caddy, it got a little faster.

"Mm, Daddy, that's so good."

"Hitting your g-spot?"

"Uhhhh-huhhhhhh..."

He put both hands on her waist and stroked himself forcefully into her. I could see her fingers clenching against the tiles.

"Ghh -- yes -- like that --"

"Kells... wow, honey, this pussy is so hot and wet."

"You know it loves your fat fucking cock in it."

"Uh-huh."

Another notch faster. I could see a trembling in Dad's legs that I didn't think was the muscles getting tired.

"Oh baby... oh, baby, I'm gonna come in you..."

Push. Push. Grind.

"Yes, Daddy, do it! Shoot my belly full of it -- put that hot cream up inside your little girl!"

"Oh, fuck!"

Faster, wilder, rhythm starting to break.

"Pump it in me, pump it in me..." Absolute need in her voice, a little sloshy from the water rushing past her mouth.

Then, him saying, "God, I'm so close... are you close?"

Dude, I think at him, you have to be able to tell she's close -- I can see it from here!

"Hush and gush, Daddy! Just squirt it and see what happens --"

"Fuck, Kellie!"

The big one: a pull way back, and then a ram up into her that, from the gasp she let out, must have hit exactly the spot she needed.

"Ahhh-h --" (I have never heard a more wonderful sound than my sister's voice right then.) "-- Dadddyyyyy... eee... THERE."

And then they were both arching their backs, and the tile threw their single shared groan out to me in reverb, and the moment just froze while they made that noise, louder and louder over the drone of spraying water until my brain tricked me into thinking I could actually hear him spraying inside her.

And then Kellie laughed and turned her slick body in his grasp to grab him in her arms and kiss him and I could just barely for a second see his still-hard cock between them, angled and poking her lower belly.

And then my eyes went wide and I thought, Oh shit, I really better go!

But I didn't, not quite, not yet, because... that kiss. It was all the passion you've ever seen in a movie sex kiss, but more, because it was also love -- fast and frenzied but pure, and I could hear Kell whimpering as her lips devoured his, and it was so completely perfect that when I finally pulled back and made it to my room, I realized I had tears streaming down my cheeks and I had to cover my mouth to keep from sobbing with joy.

So many things made sense now. Why every one of Kell's selfies from the third day of that camping trip showed her grinning like she just couldn't stop. Why she'd ditched on her out-of-state private school scholarship and spent a year at community college before transferring to a local university. Why her IG posts all through college showed her hanging with plenty of hot guys but never said she was actually dating any of them. Why she told me lots of stories about hooking up, but every promising relationship "fell apart" before it got serious enough for her to bring anyone home to meet me and Dad. Why she pushed me so hard to go away to school, saying it would be good for me and she'd missed out on so much by not doing that herself -- even, though, pretty obviously she'd been a hundred percent content with her life as a commuter student and also, really obviously, she'd really, really meant it when she said how much she would miss me once I finally decided to go.

And of course, why she hadn't moved out after she got her degree. I mean, common enough these days, but I didn't think she had that much student loan debt, and damn, I knew her job paid super well.

Sitting on my floor, just inside the door, I looked down at my phone, frozen where I'd stopped recording to scurry back to my room. Two perfect people with their perfect bodies fitting perfectly together in a perfect, ecstatic physical fusion.

That whole time, they've been doing this.

I heard the water shut off down the hall, heard their voices, low, and then laughter, not quite so low. The flap of a towel. I couldn't make out the words, but they sounded so relaxed.

Because that was the other thing that had needed explaining this whole time. Except for the one, huge, horrible experience when I was ten and Kell was thirteen -- and a couple of years afterward as we came to terms with what had happened -- we had a happy family. A perfect family. We loved each other and we barely ever fought and when we did we got over it pretty quick. Even missing out on that camping trip, and sensing that vibe between them when they got back, it was nothing more than a learning experience. Don't be a bitch and turn your nose up when you have a chance to spend time with these great people. And like I said, they were even nicer to me from then on than they'd been before.

But right along with the vibe, there were times when the two of them just felt... tense. I wrote it off as guilt that the trip had let them bond a little tighter without me, and maybe as the strain of them having to overcompensate and keep me from feeling left out. And a couple of times I even tried to talk to Kellie about it and tell her it was okay. That I knew she was a nudge closer to Dad now than I was, and that I didn't mind. And she'd just roll her eyes and say I was imagining things, but I could hear something a little sad in her voice when she said it, and I certainly didn't want to make her sad, so I dropped it.

But those voices from down the hall right now -- there was no sadness or tension or guilt in them. They were free, and they didn't have to worry. They could just be, and be happy.

And I'd have to be the worst person in the world to take that away from them, so I had to go back to school instead of dropping out.

And I had to sneak out of this house without them knowing I'd been here.

The question was, how?