Chapter 5: The New Normal

I woke slowly, still tangled in sleep’s fading grip. Kim’s warmth pressed against me, her breathing steady. For a blissful moment, I existed only in that quiet space between dreams and waking.

Then I felt him.

At some point during the night, my father had shifted, and now he was spooning me, his arms wrapped around my waist, hands resting on my stomach. I tensed—his touch, though gentle, carried the weight of everything that had happened in this bed. The memories rushed back: the mess, the choices, the irreversible consequences.

Both Kim and I could be pregnant.

The thought cut through me like ice. His hands on my stomach felt like a branding iron, marking me with the reality of what we’d done. I wanted to pull away, but I didn’t. His warmth was still intoxicating, still safe, even as fear coiled in my chest.

Then his fingers began to move.

Slow. Deliberate. Tracing a path down my side before hooking into the waistband of my panties, tugging them down my hips like an afterthought. Cool air rushed over my bare skin.

My breath hitched. I squeezed my eyes shut, pretending to sleep, but his touch grew bolder, his fingers slipping underneath the cotton, dragging it lower. Heat pooled low in my belly, my body betraying me even as my mind screamed.

“Please,” I whispered, voice barely audible.

I tried to shift away, but he only pulled me closer, his breath hot on my neck. When I weakly pushed at his wrist, he brushed me aside like I was nothing. The sheets rustled as his hand slipped under my shirt, his palm rough against my thigh.

Then he rolled me onto my back.

Cool air kissed my skin as he positioned himself between my legs. His eyes were dark, unreadable. “N-not like this,” I pleaded, but my voice was too thin to matter.

He didn’t speak. Just pressed into me with that unbearable, familiar stretch.

I gasped. My body ached, my fingers clawing at the sheets as he filled me. Every movement was calculated, relentless. I bit my lip, fighting to stay silent—until I felt Kim stir beside me.

Her sleepy murmur cut through the haze. “What’s ... going on?”

Horror lanced through me. She was awake. Watching.

My father didn’t stop. If anything, his rhythm grew smoother, deeper, like he wanted her to see. I turned my face away, shame burning my cheeks, but Kim’s gaze was locked on us. Confusion. Disbelief. And beneath it—God, no—fascination.

Then, abruptly, he pulled out of me and turned to Kim.

Her breath hitched as he gripped her thigh, yanking her panties down before she could react. “Don’t—” she started, but her protest died as he positioned her beneath him. I watched, trembling, as he pushed into her, her body tensing at the stretch. The damp fabric of her ruined underwear slid farther down one leg, tangled around her ankle. Her lips parted on a shaky gasp, her nails digging into the mattress.

I knew exactly what she felt. The shame. The need. The way pleasure coiled tight despite the disgust.

My father groaned as he came inside her, his cock pulsing visibly with each thick release. But before he’d even finished, he pulled out—still hard—and was back inside me in one brutal thrust.

I cried out. The stretch was worse now, my body oversensitive, his seed from Kim slicking the way. He fucked me through the last pulses of his climax, my back arching against my will as heat flooded deep.

When he finally pulled out, we were both a mess.

Kim lay trembling, his semen already leaking onto the sheets. I could feel his release inside me too, heavy and insistent.

He stood over us, breathing hard, eyes glinting. “Young. Tight. Dripping with me already.” His thumb smeared a stray trickle of his release across Kim’s thigh, then mine, watching how our bodies flinched at the touch. “And look at that—no protection at all. Reckless, huh?”

A slow, satisfied breath hissed through his teeth. He didn’t need an answer. His palm cupped my thigh, pressing my legs wider as his cum seeped out onto the sheets. “Feels too good to stop.”

Neither of us answered. We just clung to each other in the wreckage, his words—and his seed—settling deep.

The lobby hummed with the chaotic energy of students preparing for the day’s tour. My father stood near the entrance, clipboard in hand, the perfect image of a responsible chaperone—unless you knew what to look for. Unless you noticed how his gaze lingered on Kim and me just a second too long, how his lips twitched when he saw us walking carefully, our thighs pressed tight together.

“Efficient cleanup this morning,” he murmured as we approached, his voice low enough that only we could hear. His eyes flicked downward briefly, and I knew he was imagining the panty liners we’d frantically stuck to our underwear—flimsy shields against what kept leaking out. Kim’s borrowed leggings strained slightly at the hips, and I saw her hand twitch toward her stomach like she could already feel the dampness seeping through.

Ms. Bennett stood nearby, her polite smile still intact but her posture noticeably stiffer around my father after last night’s rejected advance. She barely glanced our way—too preoccupied with maintaining her professional distance—which was a small mercy.