Chapter 1

My parents own a small clothing store that does quite well so I don’t need a part-time job after school or in the summers. I used to work in the store but soon quit going because Dad often criticized me in front of the staff. He seemed pleased that I quit going even though he often worked late and could have used help doing the inventory. Mom often offered my services when Dad announced that he had to go back to the store in the evening but he always declined, which I appreciated.

Mom, however, wasn’t too pleased. Eventually, together with other indicators, I came to believe that Mom suspected Dad of having an affair with one of the staff. Dad had hired a number of new people over the years since Mom had left the store and they were all fairly attractive women. With one exception, they were either single or single moms.

As with most good-looking women, Dad’s suspected dalliances hurt Mom. I often had the TV to myself when we were home because Mom would retire to her room shortly after Dad went back to work. On the days when he stayed home, he often read and totally ignored her, despite her attempts to keep up her looks through exercise, diet, dressing nicely, and getting fancy hairdos, all to no avail. Mom became withdrawn and unhappy. My father was quite an asshole.

Despite Mom’s depression, she maintained her health, always exercising and maintaining a healthy diet. However, her make-up suffered along with her wardrobe and her hair was often a mess. One day, I came home to find her with a very short cut that would have looked avant-garde on a woman with a more dynamic, positive outlook. I’m sure Mom had adopted the look simply because it was easier to care for and, in her mind, made her less feminine and therefore less attractive, thus explaining why her husband ignored her.

That triggered something inside me and I decided to find out for myself if Dad really was having an affair with one of the women at the store. Wouldn’t it be great to confess to Mom that I had falsely suspected Dad so she would know that her private suspicions were also unfounded?

Half an hour after closing on a Friday night I entered the store through a back-alley window whose lock I knew to be faulty. I crept through the mezzanine where we kept lots of old displays and mannequins until I could look down upon the main storage area behind the retail area and into Dad’s office off on the left side. The door to the office was open but I could have easily seen inside even if it was shut because the rear wall of the office was comprised of a large window so Dad could make sure nobody was slacking off. There was also a peek-hole into the main store designed to keep the staff vigilant.

Leaning back in his reclining swivel chair, Dad appeared to be thinking. He certainly wasn’t working on the books because the desk in front of him was oddly clear except for a roll of blue shop towels standing up on one end.

A woman breezed through the swinging doors that separated the retail area from the rear of the store. I sighed in disappointment. Crap, it was Mrs. Omed. I had been expecting one of the younger girls or even one of the single moms, maybe especially one of them. Dad wouldn’t be having a tryst with Mrs. Omed there. The night was lost. I’d have to try another time.

Mrs. Omed swept straight into Dad’s office, cash box in hand, which surprised me. When I had worked at the store, everybody knocked and waited to be acknowledged before entering Dad’s office, even if the door was open.

“Okay Ted, everything’s locked up.”

And that surprised me for a second time. Mrs. Omed called Dad by his first name, a huge no-no. He always called his staff by their first names but everyone had to call him Mr. Horlock.

“Tanya, how many times have I told you not to use my first name. You’re going to slip up in front of one of the other girls one day and that won’t be good.”

It wasn’t Dad’s tolerance for Mrs. Omed’s indiscretion that gave me my final shock. It was the way he had spun around in his chair, pants open and hard cock standing up, ready for action.

“Well, aren’t we touchy today, Mr. Horlock,” Mrs. Omed replied in a sassy voice.

“Enough playing around,” Dad waved his hand impatiently. Mrs. Omed complied with his silent command, falling to her knees in front of him. Dad immediately grasped the sides of her head and pulled her face toward him but she resisted.

“I only have time for this tonight, Ted,” she said, emphasizing Dad’s first name. “Norm’s rented a movie and is waiting to watch it with me.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Dad grunted, pulling Mrs. Omed’s head onto his lap. “Ahhhh, that’s it,” he cried, straining his legs and shoving his hips up.

Mrs. Omed’s head snapped back as her mouth filled with Dad’s cock but he pulled her back down to the seat as he fell back and kept her there while he thrust his cock rapidly in and out of her face.

“Fuck, I’ve been waiting for this all day.”

Mrs. Omed mumbled something I couldn’t make out.

“God, you’ve got one fucking hot mouth, baby.”

Mrs. Omed mumbled again. It looked like she was trying to pull off but Dad was gripping her hair firmly with his right hand, pulling her to and fro, while his left cupped the back of her head to block any unauthorized retreat.

“Yeah baby, take it deep.”

Dad leaned forward and plunged his cock uncaringly in and out of Mrs. Omed’s mouth. This went on for quite a while, the air filled with my father’s heavy breathing and the occasional desperate gasp from Mrs. Omed when Dad released her long enough to gulp in some air.

Each time, Mrs. Omed’s head was quickly recaptured, remaining free just long enough for her to breathe and sometimes turn sideways to drool onto the plastic carpet protector. This always seemed to catch Dad by surprise and he drilled Mrs. Omed in the cheek but before thrusting his hips forward to shove his cock, squelching noisily, back into her mouth while pulling on her head for good measure. Mrs. Omed took this rough treatment without complaint. She even unbuttoned her blouse and peeled it off her arms, while her head was locked in front of Dad’s pistoning cock, and tossed it behind her. I guess she didn’t want it to get covered in drool and then have to wear it home.

“I swear, you’re the best little cocksucker I’ve ever had,” Dad huffed and puffed.

Squelch, squelch, squelch.

“But I’m still going to fuck you before you go, Norm or no Norm.”

Mrs. Omed yanked her head back, surprisingly breaking free of Dad’s grip, and spit on the floor.

“No you’re not,” she gasped. “I told you, I’m going home.”

“Just a quickie on the desk.”

“No,” Mrs. Omed sputtered.

“Come on. You know you love it from behind.”

“No,” Mrs. Omed insisted.

“Okay, but then you have to take it in the face.”

“For fuck sakes, Ted. You know I hate that.”

“Hey, you’re the one that wants Christmas off.”

Mrs. Omed unsnapped her bra and shucked it.

“Do it on my tits,” she said.

I actually stretched up and craned my neck in an attempt to see better despite the danger of being seen. I remembered that Mrs. Omed had a very full blouse for such a petite woman and I wanted to see her tits. I bet they were something to behold, slung low and overly meaty for her size. However, her back was mostly to me and all I could see were the sides of her melons as they swayed in front of her. My cock was hard as a rock.

“In the face if you want to go home to Normie right away.”

Dad twisted his head and looked at the roll of blue shop towels he had set in the middle of his desk. Mrs. Omed followed his gaze. I always wondered why Dad kept shop towels on his desk instead of Kleenex. I had thought it was because they were cheaper but now I knew better. Dad must have been doing this for years, even when Mom and I worked at the store. Vague memories surfaced of Dad insisting that I go home with Mom while he stayed late to “clean up a few things.” I guess he had a weird sense of humor.

Mrs. Omed flashed Dad what I suspected was a dirty look. “Asshole,” she said, but her posture slumped in resignation.

Dad grabbed Mrs. Omed by the top of her hair and pulled her onto his cock. The squelching started anew with increased vigor and when Mrs. Omed tried to pull her head away Dad followed her, rising out of his chair. Mrs. Omed fell back on her haunches and Dad stood over her, still holding her hair while jacking his cock, getting ready to spew all over her face.

“Wait, Ted, wait!”

Mrs. Omed struggled up to her feet. “Not on my face,” she said, gasping. “I don’t want to get it in my hair.”

“Get back down and take it,” Dad barked, breathing so raggedly I thought he was going to have a heart attack.

“No,” Mrs. Omed was defiant.

“You little bitch,” Dad yelled, trying to force Mrs. Omed back onto her knees with a hand still gripping her hair.

“Ted don’t,” Mrs. Omed cried, bending over, facing the ground, but refusing to get on her knees.

Dad tried to twist her face up so he could unload but relented, the moment of release obviously passing him by. He swore and instead of letting Mrs. Omed stand up, he dragged her head around and pushed her onto the desk, shouting, “You better wipe the drool off your fucking face before going home to Normie.”

Mrs. Omed’s head knocked the roll of shop towels over but she grabbed it before it rolled off the desk, tore off a couple of sheets, and started wiping the drool off her face. Dad watched her ass wiggle as she rubbed, patted her behind, and then slipped his right hand under her skirt.

“Stop it. I told you I don’t have time.”

“I’m just getting you primed for Normie.”

“Don’t be an asshole,” Mrs. Omed snapped, ripping off another sheet of shop towel.

I was surprised that Mrs. Omed didn’t bat Dad’s hand away. It was already moving under her skirt, rubbing back and forth but Mrs. Omed continued cleaning her face and seemed oblivious to his shenanigans.

“You’ve got a great ass, Tanya. When are you gonna let me have it?”

“Never.”

“Don’t hold your breath waiting for Normie to do it.”

Dad did something under Mrs. Omed’s skirt that made her lurch forward.

“Ted, I said no,” Mrs. Omed barked.

“Come on, you’ll love it,” Dad husked.

Dad’s hand rubbed in a slow, exaggerated arc, moving Mrs. Omed’s whole body to and fro. His other hand lifted her skirt and I could see her butt with his hand firmly ensconced between her tightly clasped thighs. Dad’s thumb was arched skyward and pressed into Mrs. Omed’s panties between her cheeks, wiggling like he was trying to push it into something.

“Ted, don’t.”

Ignoring her, Dad yanked her panties down to the top of her thighs. Her bare ass beckoned and I wondered why I had ignored it in favor of the smaller ones on the younger staff. It looked so inviting, bent over like that. Dad’s hand constantly moved between Mrs. Omed’s legs.

“Dooon’t,” she wailed.

Dad suddenly lowered his arm and pushed it in, moving further forward. Fuck, he had his fingers jammed way into her cunt. A different squelching sound drifted up to the loft as Dad rapidly finger banged Mrs. Omed, his hand squelching in and out. Holy fuck, it looked like he was getting even more than just fingers in there.

Mrs. Omed moaned, “Stop it,” but she complied when Dad’s left hand pressed on her back and lowered her tits onto the desk and she moved her legs farther apart when Dad kicked her foot.

The only sounds now in the store were the liquid squelching and a chorus of heavy breathing. Mrs. Omed’s legs began quivering and several times she rose up on her elbows until Dad pressed her back onto the desk.

Mrs. Omed was moaning constantly, her ass wiggling above trembling legs wrapped around Dad’s pumping fist, until one final thrust caused her to wail out loud. Mrs. Omed rose up on the desk, legs stiffening as she shuddered on Dad’s hand, and her wail turned to a whimper as she slumped onto the desk. Dad stared at her trembling cheeks.

“Fuck, I gotta have me some of that,” Dad he said.

Mrs. Omed lay quite still though she had to know what Dad was about to do. He fed his half-hard cock into Mrs. Omed’s well-plied hole and started pumping right away. Soon, he was rocking her back and forth on the desk with as little concern for her comfort as when he was punishing her face with his cock.

Dad fucked Mrs. Omed for quite a long time and she seemed in no hurry to finish despite her stated desire to go home to her husband. A couple of times, Dad pulled Mrs. Omed’s head up from the desk and twisted it so he could stick his fingers into her mouth. The enraptured expression on her face left no doubt that she wanted to be exactly where she was, doing exactly what she was doing.

When they finally came, noisily and together, Dad slowly ground his cock around Mrs. Omed’s butt, thigh muscles bulging with the effort of digging it in so deep. He seemed reluctant to leave her steamy warmth, which I understood. I wished it was my cock buried in her cunt. Eventually, Dad’s cock slithered out and he pulled his pants up while Mrs. Omed reached behind, still lying prone on the desk, and pulled up her panties.

“Okay, I’ll lock up and you can go home to Normie.”

Mrs. Omed shook her head, like there was no teaching an old dog new tricks. Laughing, Dad slapped her on the butt and her skirt fell into place when she jerked up.

“Don’t let Normie wear that out on me.”

“I wish,” Mrs. Omed replied sarcastically.

“I wish you’d let me do it on your face more,” Dad’s voice softened. “It isn’t that bad.”

“I told you, Norm’s waiting for me. Last time I was late getting to the restaurant and when I was brushing my hair in the restroom I saw some in my hair.”

“No shit?” Dad laughed.

“It wasn’t funny. Thank God it was hidden underneath and nobody saw it. As it was, I could still feel it on my face and I felt just horrible.”

“You shouldn’t be ashamed of getting what you want. Norm’s a good guy but he can’t give what you need, just like Lisa can’t for me.”

“Have you ever asked her?”

“Why bother? She doesn’t know how and wouldn’t anyway, but you sure do, don’t you?”

The lecherous tone returned to Dad’s voice as he patted the back of Mrs. Omed’s skirt.

“You’re not getting any of that.”

“Yeah, well you said you’d never let me come on your face either.”

“Maybe I won’t anymore.”

“If you give me your ass, I’ll leave your face alone.”

“Yeah, right. You want to come on my face every time.”

“That’s ‘cause you always say no.”

“I’m not letting you in my butt, even for two weeks off at Christmas.”

“Did I say just Christmas? You can have Thanksgiving too. You’ll love it, you know...”

Dad turned the light off and their voices trailed off as they made their way to the front of the store. I waited in the dark until I was sure they were both gone.

Well, I guess I’d discovered what I wanted to know. What did I do now? I couldn’t tell Mom. Christ, my own feelings were a mess. On the one hand, I hated Dad for doing this to Mom but on the other I was tremendously excited about the way he had treated Mrs. Omed.

I mean, Mrs. Omed, of all people. I remembered her as prudish, tightly wound-up, and bossy to the girls, kind of like a little matriarch. Yet, there she was, taking a throat fucking and almost a load on her face, followed up by a hard pounding from behind, from her boss.

Her boss. Was that the ticket. Dad had been so confident, so dominant, and this normally in-control woman had subjugated herself. For what? An extra week off over the holidays? That wasn’t the real reason. No way. She had prostrated herself before my Dad because he was strong, and because he was, he got her to do things like they did on the porno sites. Except, they were paid to act, no matter how real they tried to make it. But this, what I had just witnessed, wasn’t an act, and I was convinced the ‘pay’ was incidental.

Mrs. Omed obviously wanted to get fucked. Why else would she leave her butt so provocatively presented after Dad bent her over the desk? She could have easily got up after getting the shop towels but she didn’t. Yes, Dad was rough but Mrs. Omed invited it.

I wondered if Dad ever treated Mom like that? Mrs. Omed acted like he was incapable of acting differently and the shop towel convinced me they, or at least Dad, had been doing this for years. Dad hadn’t started the store, he had inherited it from his father. Had Dad always treated women that way and did they always succumb to him? Mom had worked in the store with Dad when his father still owned it. I knew Mom and Dad met when she started working at the store when his father still ran it. Was Mom the only one who wouldn’t submit, or did he not even try like he intimated to Mrs. Omed because she was the marrying kind? Or had she, and he just tired of her? If so, did she miss it?

On the long walk home, I convinced myself it was the former. Dad couldn’t handle being a ‘Norm’ and Mom was the marrying kind, the kind that wasn’t a lot of fun, but the type his father would approve of.

“Where were you?” Dad asked when I came in. He was pouring himself a drink and still looked smug.

“Out for a walk,” I answered. “Where’s Mom?”

“In bed, I guess.” I could tell he didn’t much care where she was.

I went upstairs, walking softly so I didn’t wake Mom. Her door was open and the light was on. I looked in, prepared to say hi but she was lying on her stomach, arms stretched over a pillow, holding a book in front of herself, reading. The covers were thrown back, falling over the end of the bed onto the floor.

It had been a hot summer so far and Mom was wearing a short nightie, lying with her legs apart and one foot raised. I looked up her legs and into the darkness between her thighs, wondering if she was wearing panties underneath. My cock swelled up and I remembered that I had come in my pants while watching Dad and Mrs. Omed, although I didn’t know at which point. I needed to shower, but something held me in place.