Chapter 2

Mom said her goodbyes and drove off to meet her girlfriends for a weekend camping trip. They would be four hours away--a good distance! Now we had the place to ourselves. And that meant trouble! Good trouble!

My emotions were troubling me. After seeing Leah and Dad get touchy feely in front of me--short of making out, short of something sexual--I felt jealous. Even though I was fucking Leah nearly every day, I was still jealous of what they were doing. (How selfish can a brother be!) Why couldn’t I accept that my dad and sister were already fucking. It has nothing to do with me.

As far as I knew, they did it at a hotel just that one time. Were there blowjobs in the car or quicky fucks somewhere else? I was curious, aroused and jealous. Afterall, she was my first girlfriend, and now I had to share her with my dad? (Man, I get how twisted this must sound to you.)

I tried not to dwell on that as our plan to let me watch them fuck was about to become a reality.

I felt excitement deep in my balls, my dick and my brain. (In that order!) I was always hungry for sex. I was starving that day. Leah was my keeper, feeding that monster in me. My naughty sister would make this a performance with Dad, knowing I’d take it out on her with my big, angry cock.

She craved being disciplined--spanked. I didn’t know it then, but her affections for him had a lot to do with getting spanked and then fucked. He spanked Mom, too, for the same reason. She and Mom needed it for similiar reasons. (What a family!). I knew that the only way I was gonna teach her how I felt, was to punish her with an open-handed spanking, and then tie her to the bed and fuck her into submission. I needed submission from her. (Maybe this was the monster in me?)

Hell, what was I worried about? Dad wasn’t my competition. I was good looking, young and well-hung. My cock was much thicker and longer than his. That mattered. I’d seen his “package” many times over the years when I peeked at him fucking Mom and other women during their swing parties.

Me and Leah loved each other like boyfriend and girlfriend, and here was Dad interfering with that. Who was he but some middle-aged fuck who had the hottest daughter in town. And she opened her legs to him. But he was no competition to me. Yet, I was still jealous. Why did jealousy give me such a hard on? I was repulsed and attracted at the same time to their sexual relationship. (Go figure!)

I wanted to fuck Leah before she went down into the basement with Dad, but she told me to “save your jizz for the closet.” I understood, yeah, save my jizz. Good idea.

I went down to the game room. She had already pulled out the couch bed. It was a nice, big bed. She arranged the room with candles, and it was romantic. Why the fuck was she being so romantic with him? I didn’t have time to obsess over that neurotic nugget and got positioned in the closet.

It was a storage closet, not a lot of room for me. It was uncomfortable. I sat on a pillow, had an empty, plastic bottle to pee in, if I needed to, and a fresh, pungent pair of her panties she put in there for me. (What a girl!) She’d worn them to bed the night before and they were wet with pussy juice. She’d been masturbating. I could always tell from how moist her panties were.

(This wasn’t fair. We agreed not to masturbate!)

She must have been too excited, anticipating sex with Dad, so she had to make herself cum. I would’ve done that, too, had it been me and Mom. (Me and Mom? We’ll get into that in another story.) But since she told me to “save your jizz...”, I was pretty backed up. I needed to cum badly. I planned on shooting my load into her panties while I watched them.

I heard voices and footsteps approaching. Dad and Leah came down the stairs, chatting about Mom.

“She used to be so open to new things, real depraved, but no more. You aren’t like that. I wish you could teach her what I like. You know what I like, baby doll--always have. I trained you well.”

(“Always have”? “Trained you well”? How long had this been going on with them?)

“She sounds so boring, Daddy. I hope I never, EVER, bore you!”

“Sweety, baby, you haven’t yet. You’ll NEVER bore me. You are hotter in bed than anyone I’ve ever been with, really!” he said, in a gentle voice.

“What’s your pleasure?” Dad asked, standing behind the bar.

“I want a-----White Russian!” she said, remaining in her “little girl” voice.

“Ooh, fancy drink. Ok, sweetie, coming up.”

He made them their drinks and they sat at the edge of the bed sipping not saying too much. (They were very comfortable with each other. Not a lot had to be said.)

I had a good view. Not perfect. Just good enough. Had it been perfect, I might get caught. And we didn’t want that. I didn’t know what he would do if he caught me. Would he be pissed off? Turned on? Or not care? I would surely get a stern warning not to tell anyone what I saw.