Raking Around the Family Tree

Author's Note: this was an entry fora short story contest with a 1,000 word limit. Due to the word limit there is so sex in this story other than some accidental touching.

All characters are 18 or older.

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I was lazing in my bed Sunday morning, texting with friends, when I heard my dad coming down the hall. "You up, sleepyhead?" he asked as he simultaneously knocked and pushed the door open.

I felt my nipples harden under the thin camisole, even before the scent of his cologne hit me, but did not attempt to hide them. He set a steaming mug down on my nightstand. Light and sweet, just how I liked it. I knew there had to be a catch.

"If you can drag yourself out of that warm bed, I'd like some help raking the lawn before the snow flies."

I picked up the mug and blew on it, letting the heat warm my hands. I peered out the window at the crisp, clear November day, "It may take more than a good cup of coffee to coax me out of this bed." I tipped the mug up to my lips and took a slow sip of the heavenly elixir, my eyes locked with my father's the whole time.

"Mom picked up some Freihofer's Cinnamon Buns before she left," he replied, his eyes momentarily darting down to my chest before he patted my thigh through the comforter and left.

I rubbed the spot he patted and shivered. I know it was not normal to have these feelings for him. But I did. And have for quite some time. Feelings that confused and frustrated me. Especially since he seemed completely oblivious to them.

I finished half the coffee before I had to get up and pee. On my way to the bathroom, I saw him already raking the front lawn. I quickly washed up and threw on a pair of jeans and a tee-shirt, foregoing a bra, since I'd be wearing my hoodie. I pulled my hair into a ponytail and scarfed down a Cinnamon Bun before joining him in the yard.

Raking the yard wasn't high on my priority list, but spending a day alone with my dad made it exciting. He's no Bradley Cooper, but he's the most encouraging, reliable, loyal and loving guy a girl could ask for. Too bad he was over twice my age...and you know...related!

We raked, talked, and laughed, which made it much more fun than work. We'd make a bunch of piles, and then fill the brown-paper leaf bags, and carry them to the street. The front yard was done in no time flat.

The backyard was a little bigger, and since our house backed up to the woods, a lot leafier. We continued our rake-pile-bag-and-carry process until most of the backyard was done.

"We may need to quit for the day," I said, holding the last leaf bag.

"No way, I bet we can get the rest of these in there."

"I think you're crazy, but you're on," I replied, "I just don't come crying to me when you lose." Dad wasn't one to shy away from a challenge, a trait I certainly inherited from him.

We raked the remaining leaves into a big pile and began filling the last leaf bag.

"Still think it will fit," I asked with a giggle.

"It's gonna be tight, but with your help, it'll fit."

We both scooped up armfuls of leaves and packed them into the bag, which was three-quarters full and there was about half the pile left.

"Are you ready to admit defeat?" I asked smugly.

The next thing I knew, he grabbed me by the waist and lifted me. I shrieked at the sudden movement, laughing hysterically, as he dropped me into the leaf bag.

"Remember when we used to do this when you were a little girl?"

He lifted me and dropped me down, using my body weight to compact the leaves in the bag. I continued to giggle and squirm. His hands were tickling my sides, and the way he bounced me up and down made my already erect nipples rub against my sweatshirt.

"You're gonna rip the bag," I warned, in between snorts of laughter.

"No I'm not," he replied, just as the bag ripped, and we both tumbled into the ground.

"Told ya!" I said triumphantly as I threw a handful of leaves in his face.

"Oh, you want to play that way," he said with a laugh and stuffed a handful of leaves down the front of my sweatshirt. I think he meant to just put them down my sweatshirt, but we both were surprised when his hand came to rest on my bare boob.

He blushed beet-red and froze like a deer in the headlights, which was ironic since his fingers were resting on my high-beams. I took advantage of the opportunity and stuffed a huge handful of leaves down the front of his pants.

Now it was my turn to blush, as I learned that he too was going commando, and my hand was resting on his cock. His extremely hard cock.

"Sorry," he said and started to pull his hand out of my shirt.

"I'm not," I replied, and circled my fingers around his throbbing shaft.

I didn't know if he was apologizing for touching my tit, or for having a hard-on, but I wasn't going to let this moment pass.

"We can't, we shouldn't."

"But I want to." My small hand continued to rub his shaft. "And this," I emphasized with a squeeze, "says you want to too."

I stood on my tip-toes and pressed my lips to his. He didn't respond immediately, so I kept jerking his cock, and soon we were sharing a passionate kiss that was nothing like your normal father-daughter embrace. His hands kneaded the globes of my ass as our tongues wrestled with each other.

He broke the kiss and looked lovingly into my eyes.

"OK, but not here," he said, and he took my hand and led me to the house.

Just one more reason why Fall is my favorite season.