Chapter 10

When Dad went to the bathroom, Lauren came up with a surprisingly good idea. She offered my sister and I, “Want some sex, once he’s asleep?”

I asked, “Like a BJ? Yeah. That would be cool.”

Miri was happy to agree. “Sure! But I don’t want to get in trouble.”

Our slutty girlfriend assured us, “If he cums while he’s drunk, he could sleep through a plane crash.” She kissed my lips. “Go along with what I say. I’ll take care of it.”

Later that night she and Dad opened bottles, and she offered Miri and I beers too. Dad frowned, but she said, “I started drinking when I was fourteen. They’re old enough.”

Luckily, he didn’t resist. “I guess.”

She licked his lips, squeezed his package through his pants, and suggested, “I think they’re old enough to learn about sex, too. Want to let them watch tonight?”

Dad shifted, his face turning a shade of pink that matched the label on the beer bottle. He cleared his throat, looking at me and then back at her, clearly battling a wave of “this is wrong” against a tidal wave of “YES!” I felt a knot of anxiety tighten in my stomach; I wasn’t sure if I wanted to be a spectator to my father’s pleasure or if I just wanted to be the one Lauren was looking at with those heavy, hungry eyes.

Lauren didn’t wait for a consensus. She slid off the couch with a feline grace, her baby bump leading the way, and dropped to her knees between Dad’s legs. Suddenly, she reached out and unzipped his jeans with a sharp zzzzip that sounded like a gunshot in the quiet room. Dad let out a shaky breath, his hands gripping the armrests of the chair, looking utterly lost as Lauren peeled his underwear down to expose his cock.

Miri leaned in, her eyes wide, while I felt a strange, electric heat crawl up my neck. Lauren didn’t go for the kill right away; she teased him, swirling her tongue around the head of his penis, making a wet, slapping sound that echoed through the living room. She looked up at us, a mischievous glint in her eyes, and then looked back at Dad.

“Don’t be shy, honey,” she whispered, her voice raw and throaty. She opened her mouth wide and slid over him, taking him deep.

Dad groaned, his head hitting the back of the chair. He looked uncomfortable, almost embarrassed, but his hips gave a tiny, involuntary twitch forward. I watched, mesmerized, as her cheeks hollowed out, her lips sealing tight around him, creating a vacuum that made a squelching noise every time she shifted. She was focused, methodical, and completely unashamed, using her hand to stroke the base while her mouth worked the top.

Dad stared at Miri, while Lauren turned him into a whimpering mess. The room smelled like cheap beer and the metallic tang of arousal, and for the first time, the awkwardness started to melt into a heavy, pulsing tension. I felt like a glitch in a machine, stuck between the urge to look away and the desperate need to see exactly how far this would go. Dad’s breathing had turned into these jagged, rhythmic hitches, and just as he started to arch his back, seconds away from the finish line. Lauren suddenly pulled away with a wet, popping sound.

“Not yet, Daddy,” she purred, her voice dripping with a playful cruelty that made my own heart hammer against my ribs.

In one fluid, unhesitating motion, she stood up and reached for the clasp of her jeans. They hit the floor with a heavy thud, followed by her lace panties, leaving her completely bare. Her skin looked golden under the dim living room lamp, her belly a soft, rounded curve that contrasted with the sharp, hungry lines of her hips. She didn’t give us a second to blink; she stepped over Dad’s lap and lowered herself, guiding his hardening cock with one hand while she hovered just an inch above him.

Then she dropped. She sat fully on him with a soft, fleshy thump, her thighs gripping his waist. She didn’t just sit there; she began to bounce. Slowly at first, then with a rhythmic, driving force that made the chair creak under their combined weight. Her breasts, heavy and swollen from the pregnancy, swayed wildly with every upward surge, the nipples dark and tight.

“Look at his face,” Miri commanded. “Look how much he likes us watching!”

Dad let out a strangled sound, halfway between a sob and a moan, his hands blindly grasping at the air as he was hammered into the seat. Miri was leaning so far forward she was almost touching the coffee table, her mouth hanging open. I couldn’t breathe; I just watched the way Lauren’s skin rippled, the raw, animalistic grace of her movements as she claimed him, turning the living room into a sanctuary of unbridled, shivering lust.

The rhythm broke. Dad’s back arched like a bow, his face twisting into a mask of pure, blinding ecstasy. He let out a guttural yell, and I could see the tension snap in his thighs as he bucked one last time, pumping everything he had deep into Lauren’s warmth. He collapsed back into the cushions, his chest heaving, eyes rolling back into his head. Within minutes, the adrenaline crashed, and the heavy, rhythmic sound of his snoring filled the silence, leaving him dead to the world in the very chair where he’d just been dismantled.