Late Back

She took off her bra - amazed at her complete lack of shyness - and pulled down her panties. You Are Clearly A Scarlet, Shameless Woman, she told herself. For the first time she was naked in front of a man.

(Except for your dad and not for years now...)

She crossed the room and lay down on his bed. The room was warm but she shivered uncontrollably at the feeling of his sheets on her skin. She was in a man's bed, she thought. On a man's bed, she corrected herself.

"Lick me," she told him.

He nodded. One of the advantages of all this porn on the internet, she thought, was that at least men know what's expected of them.

He knelt on the bed and looked at her. Her nipples hardened even further under his gaze. God, hurry up, she thought. If you don't start soon I'm going to have to do it myself and I'm really not sure I want to do that in front of you.

He lowered his head and ran his tongue across her lower belly. She arched up and moaned. That was good, but she was in no mood for teasing. She reached down and put a hand in his hair, encouraging him lower.

Another lick, an inch lower. Just on the edge of her pubic hair. She could feel his breath on her.

The next flick of his tongue would surely be the one.

His tongue traced its way through her hair on its way to the top of her slit. Then... bastard! He skirted away to the left and licked her inner thigh there. His nose must be right next to my cunt, she thought. If I pushed up I would feel his nose on my cunt.

Then, unexpectedly, his tongue was right on her clit, hard and probing. She yelped. It was too much.

"Whoah!" she gasped, dragging his head upwards.

"Sorry," he said, concerned. "Did it hurt?"

(Of course it didn't hurt you idiot it was just too intense to actually be nice. )

"Gently," she told him. "Please."

He nodded, a little abashed. She had upset his fragile confidence, she could see. Men were supposed to be able to supply almost endless pleasure these days. That's another thing the porn told them. She didn't understand why some of the sisterhood were so down on porn. In all the porn she'd watched the girls seemed to having at least as good a time as the men, and the men were certainly doing their share of the work.

Now Art was overly worried, and his tongue probing now was tentative and cautious. She willed herself to relax. Getting your pussy eaten, she thought, should be like that joke about bad pizza.

Art just couldn't get it.

He licked diligently to the left and the right and up and down but it felt too calculated, like he was painting a shed. It was pleasing but not pleasurable enough, and her fingers were itching to reach down and show him exactly where and how hard and how often - but she knew instinctively that would dent his confidence yet further.

So she writhed a little to encourage him, and made little content noises at the back of her throat for a few minutes until she felt it was time to move him on.

"I need you to fuck me," she murmured. That would boost his confidence, she thought. Nothing like having an eighteen-year-old begging you to fuck her to make a young male feel like a stallion, surely.

Except... despite everything she'd heard about the recuperative powers of the young male, Art was unable to rise to the occasion a second time. She even took him in her mouth again and got him semi-hard, but then as she was scrabbling to open the condom wrapper his cock quietly and spitefully withered back to its normal state. Shit, shit, shit, she thought savagely, even as she smiled reassuringly at him. I shouldn't be in such a rush.

"Sorry," said Art.

"No, it's ok," she said. "We can try again in a while."

I am going to get fucked tonight, she thought. One way or another I Need To Get Fucked Tonight.

"Yeah," said Art. "It's just... my parents will be back soon."

"Oh," she said.

So she'd got dressed while Art watched her and they talked about meeting up later in the week and he walked her downstairs and to her car and then she'd forcefully kissed him goodnight, pushing her tongue into his. She thought she could taste herself on him and she hoped he could taste himself too. Serve him right, she thought a little spitefully.

And now she was home, restless and prowling and what? Irritable? Frustrated? She certainly wasn't the slightest bit tired. What you are, she told herself, is horny. Except horny didn't seem an adequate enough word for the desperation and emptiness she felt inside her. Perhaps she could watch a film in her room. Perhaps she could watch some porn, get herself off and find some peace that way.

She switched the lights off, enjoying the sense of secrecy and stealth. Upstairs her dad would be drifting off to sleep now, secure in the knowledge his good little girl was home safe. She felt reckless and wanton.

("I sucked my first cock tonight, Daddy."

"Did you sweetie? That's nice.")

Suddenly she unzipped her dress and stepped out of it. For the second time that night she took off her bra and underwear. Now she stood naked and alone in the shadows of her home.

I could lie on the sofa and play with myself she thought.

Or I could sit on the side in the kitchen and push my fingers into my cunt and make myself come that way.

Or I could lie on the bannisters like I used to when I was little, except instead of sliding down them I'd be sliding up and down on them, rubbing my clit and nipples against the wood until I come.

Or I could go upstairs and lie on the landing, on that lovely soft carpet, spread my legs and work myself into a frenzy.

Right outside Dad's door.

He wouldn't know. He wouldn't know his good little girl was just a few feet away, rubbing herself and coming and coming and coming.

Or...

Or I could go into his room.

Linda stopped at that thought, appalled. How could she think that sort of thing? Why had her Dad kept intruding on her thoughts all evening? What was wrong with her?

*

"I would totally fuck your Dad," Angie had said.

That had been a year ago, and Angie was over for a sleepover, as she was at least once a week. They had been friends for nearly ten years. Initially the sleepovers had been full of talk of princesses, then ponies, then boy bands, then boys generally... and for the last year it had mainly been about sex.

"Angie!" Linda was grossed out.

"Older men are way better than younger men," Angie had announced loftily.

"He's my DAD! I don't want you even thinking about it!"

Angie shook her head irritably. "I bet he thinks about it," she said.

"What? With you? Of course he doesn't!"

"Does your Dad ever have any female company at all, other than us?"

Linda thought about it. "I guess not. But... it doesn't seem to bother him."

"He's still quite a young guy," said Angie. "And your Mum was hot. She looks like you."

Linda did take after her mother, that was true, particularly in the last few years when she'd filled out considerably, going from an A cup to a C cup inside 18 months. They had the same chestnut hair and slender build.

"You're lucky," sighed Angie. "Both of you, skinny with big tits."

"What's that got to do with my Dad's sex life?" demanded Linda, feeling a secret shudder of excitement at even saying those words out loud.

"Your Dad got a really hottie wife. He's good looking. No way a man like that didn't have loads of girls after him. And since your Mum left, what, nobody?"

Linda shook her head.

"So your Dad has not been laid for five years," said Angie. "I would be doing him a favour. You should thank me."

"I would NOT thank you," said Linda firmly. "Don't even... don't ever... just don't, ok?"

"He looks at me, sometimes," said Angie, teasingly. "I catch him. Checking me out."

"He does not!"

But actually, once Angie had said that, Linda had noticed she was right. He was very discreet, and his gaze never lingered, but once you were on the look out for it her Dad definitely was stealing glances at her best friend. And somehow Angie always seemed to be wearing her shortest skirt and her skimpiest tops whenever she came over, despite Linda's angry glares.

It had annoyed her and unsettled her in equal measure. She had never thought of her father as a sexual being. He was just... Dad. Dependable Dad. Dad fixed things and made things better and always had some money in his pocket she could have if she ran short. She couldn't imagine him not being at the centre of her life.

He was good-looking. Objectively, Linda could see that. She noticed that even the younger female cashiers at the supermarket checkouts would flirt a little with him, and he would smile back and perhaps joke, but he was never embarrassing about it, never took the banter too far. And he was funny. Nobody made her laugh more than Dad.

Would he really like to get Angie in bed, she'd wondered? Or anybody in bed, come to that? Was he lonely? Did he ever... touch himself? Eeew. That was something she really shouldn't think about.

**

And now she was walking up the stairs, naked, remembering those conversations with Angie. Poor Dad. If he'd felt even a fraction of the sexual frustration she was currently feeling, then maybe she should have let Angie go ahead. It would have been a kindness, perhaps, like Angie had said.

Except...

Except she would have been jealous, she admitted to herself. Angie was her friend, not Daddy's. She'd be left out if the two of them were together.

But that wasn't it either, was it?

If she was going to be honest, she had to be totally honest. Even if she could never tell anybody, not even Angie.

It wasn't that she didn't want to share Angie.

She didn't want to share her Dad. She didn't want Angie touching him, not like that. She didn't want anybody touching him like that.

So poor old Dad is never going to get laid again because you don't want to share him? What a lovely daughter you are, to be sure. What a selfish little bitch.

So, if you're thinking these things, go a little further.

What would you do if, right now, his door opened and he came out?

What would he say if he saw you standing like this on the landing?

Would his eyes snap open with horror and disgust?

Or would they travel hungrily over your chest and belly and the dark triangle below?

Would you see him begin to stiffen and grow inside his pyjamas, despite his efforts to cover himself?

What would you want his reaction to be?

Linda stood still, breathing hard. She listened. The house was completely quiet save for her breathing and the distant ticking of a clock below.

She reached down and touched herself. She was wet. She began to rub herself, hard. It wasn't going to be enough, she knew, not the state she was in tonight, but she had to do something.

Then she heard a noise from her father's room. A light switch clicked, and she saw light spreading from under his door.

It sounded like he was getting up. He was probably going to go downstairs and get a drink of water. Perhaps check on her. He often poked his head around her door when he thought she was asleep and watched for a few moments. Sometimes he'd rearrange the blankets on her. She liked that he did that.

She froze. She heard his footsteps coming across the room towards the door, then saw the door handle bend downwards.

"Daddy," she mouthed almost silently to herself. "Oh Daddy - please help me..."