You can read this as as stand alone story, but it will make more sense if you read the preceeding chapters. This is chapter 6 of 25. I plan to release a chapter per week. There are more than 90,000 words in the complete novel. It is a work of fiction.
* * * Chapter 6 * * *
Lilith:
I stride into the building for my yoga and Tai Chi classes, trying for nonchalance and disregard. Thinking of the last time I saw Mark, the security guard, he had been locked up by two of his own handcuffs, affixing him to his own day bed. He had been naked, his fat cock still standing at attention, a dollop of cum sliding down his shaft.
Now, Mark stands, leaning on the counter, his eyes locked on me like a predator sizing up prey. He's been waiting for me— I can feel it in the heat of his gaze. The chip on his shoulder has shriveled since the last time that I saw him lingering there, reduced by being dominated by a diminutive woman. I flash him a smile in my pretty green dress that hugs my curves just right, the fabric whispering against my thighs with each step. "Good morning, Mark," I purr, tossing him a wink that lingers like a promise as I sway past.
He shakes his head, muttering under his breath, "She is one hell of a woman." His voice trails after me, thick with want, and I bite my lip to stifle a grin.
Susan:
This trip to Concord is a total bust so far in my quest to dip back into the dating pool. Freedom from my ex-husband felt like a golden ticket— I’m a reasonably attractive thirty-one-year-old, a true redhead, with my body still taut and untouched by kids, every curve begging for attention. My first mark? Robert, my boss for just over a year. I’ve had my sights on him forever, but my wedding ring blocked my chances with him. Now that mine’s gone, his damn band glints like a barricade. I figured a ring on a guy meant nothing, but it’s cockblocking me hard. Still, I haven’t given up on him.
His wife’s no help— she’s stunning, sure, but ten years my senior with two kids stretching her in ways I’ve dodged. I bank on the long game: crack that ice, tempt him to stray, and reel him in slowly. But this ice is glacier-thick. Concord seemed like the prime time, get him away from home, some social drinking to lower his inhibitions, and finally get into his pants. But, somehow, he dodges me at every turn. Hell, he made me drive solo! Where’s the chivalry? Robert’s nothing if not practical, though— refused to let me ride with him, even when it made perfect sense.
Last night, Stanley from the local office— a slick corporate divorcee— invites me to dinner. What’s to lose? Worst case, word gets back to Robert and jealousy flares. Dinner’s electric; his eyes devour my cleavage over wine, and afterward, he invites me to his place. I understand that probably means going to bed with him— and I'm ready to do that if the mood is right. My body is already humming, nipples stiffening against silk at the thought— and if Robert finds out, it might just sting him enough to finally take me himself.
I insist on driving separate, gut screaming escape route, and boy am I glad for that instinct. Because the second I step into Stanley’s house, the air feels wrong— thick with vanilla candle smoke and something muskier, more primal. Surprise: we’re not alone. His ex-wife, Vanessa, sprawls on his large sectional in a sheer camisole, heavy breasts swaying as she shifts. His daughter, Chloe— eighteen, long-limbed, innocent-faced— lounges beside her in tiny cotton shorts and a cropped tank, bare feet tucked under her thighs. Both of them look up and smile like they’ve been expecting me.
I take a seat on the far end away from the other women. Surely they just dropped by for something and will soon excuse themselves and leave. But Stanley makes introductions all around, as he pours four large glasses of wine— deep red, fragrant. It soon becomes clear that they have no plans to leave anytime soon. Did I misread the invitation to his house? What about us having sex?
He takes a seat close beside me— his thigh presses deliberately against mine. Observing the other women, they are not surprised or put off by the open affection that Stanley displays toward me.
Conversation starts light, but his palm is on my knee in minutes, sliding higher, heat seeping through my skirt. Vanessa watches with lazy, hooded eyes. Chloe giggles, stretching so her crop top rides up, revealing the soft curve beneath one small, perfect breast.
The room is warm, too warm. My skin prickles. Stanley’s fingers trace the lace edge of my panties now, bold and unhurried, right there in front of them. Vanessa sighs and peels off her camisole, letting it drop. I am shocked and look around to see how the others are reacting. They watch with interest, but without alarm. Her breasts spill free— full, pendulous, nipples dark and already peaked. The scent of her arousal drifts across the room, musky and heavy.
Chloe follows without a word, lifting her arms so the crop top slips off. Her breasts are smaller, high and firm, nipples a delicate pink. I cringe — she is so young. But she doesn't stop there. She shimmies out of her shorts, no panties! Smooth, bare lips of her pussy glint faintly in the low light. Eighteen. Shaved bare. My stomach flips, but I can’t look away.
Stanley’s fingers pull aside the crotch of my panties, sliding through slick folds. I’m shamefully wet. He finds my clit with practiced ease, circling slow, and I hate the way my hips tilt toward him.
Vanessa crawls closer to us on the sectional, knees sinking into cushions, and kisses Stanley— wet, open-mouthed, tongue visible. Chloe watches, biting her lower lip, one hand drifting down to touch herself lightly, fingers glistening.
I try to speak. “Stanley… what is this?”
He breaks the kiss, smiles against Vanessa’s mouth, then turns to me. “Just relax, Susan. We’re all friends here.” His fingers press inside me now— two thick ones, curling, and I gasp despite myself. “Chloe’s eighteen. Curious. Eager. And Vanessa and I… we share everything.”
Chloe rises, and pulls her fathers pants and underwear off. She barely takes notice when his erect cock springs free. Naked, unconcerned that he has two fingers buried in me, thrusting. She straddles her father’s lap facing him, knees bracketing his thighs. Right beside me— so close I can smell her coconut shampoo and the faint, sharp scent of her arousal. Stanley’s free hand— the one not buried in my pussy— goes to her ass, spreading her open. She grinds slowly against his erection, soft whimpers escaping her throat.
I should move. I should stand. But his fingers are stroking that spot inside me, relentless, and my legs feel liquid.
Chloe strokes him once, twice, then lifts up and guides him to her entrance. I watch, inches away, as her flushed lips part around him. She sinks down slowly— wet, obscene sounds filling the room— taking every inch of her father inside her with a shuddering moan that vibrates through the couch cushions.
Stanley groans low, hips bucking up. “Fuck, baby… always so tight for Daddy.”
His hand leaves my pussy to yank my blouse open, buttons popping. Cool air hits my skin as he shoves my bra down, freeing my breasts. His palm cups one roughly, thumb raking over the nipple until it throbs. Then he’s back between my legs, fingering my clit, matching the rhythm of his thrusts into Chloe. Chloe watches her father frigging my clit from her father's lap, right beside her.
Chloe rides him harder now— small breasts bouncing, head thrown back, breath coming in broken gasps. The rhythmic slap of skin on skin is wet, her scent is everywhere. Stanley’s cock glistens each time she rises, coated in her juices, before she sinks back down with a soft cry.
Vanessa leans in from the other side, mouth closing over my nipple, sucking hard. I’m surrounded— touched everywhere, pleasure coiling tight despite the screaming wrongness in my head.
Stanley’s thrusts grow erratic, his hand falls away from my breast. I watch them because I cannot tear my eyes away, but it's also a little like watching a train wreck. Chloe’s moans pitch higher, her thighs trembling. “Daddy… please… inside of me…”
He growls, fingers digging into her ass, slamming up into her. “Gonna fill you up, baby. Take every drop.”
I feel it happen— the moment he comes. His whole body tenses, cock buried to the hilt in his daughter. A deep, guttural groan rips from his throat as he pulses inside her, pumping hot and thick and deep. Chloe whimpers, grinding down, milking him, her own climax shuddering through her in waves.
I smell it— sharp, salty, unmistakable. See the faint overflow as she finally stills, his cum starting to leak around where they’re joined.
That’s it. That’s the moment the heat dies and ice floods my veins. He just came inside his own daughter. Bare. Claiming. Irreversible.
The pleasure curdles into nausea. I jerk away from Vanessa’s mouth, shove Stanley’s hand away from me. My voice cracks. “Get away from me. This is fucking sick.”
Vanessa says, “Aww. Don't be such a prude.”
Chloe looks over, flushed and dazed, still impaled on him, a lazy smile on her lips. Stanley reaches for me, cock still inside her, slick and spent. “Susan, come on…”
I scramble up, blouse hanging open, skirt twisted, thighs wet with my own arousal and shame. “No. I’m done.”
I stumble to the door, grabbing my purse, shoes clacking on hardwood. The door slams behind me. Tires screech as I peel out, chest heaving, the taste of bile in my throat.
Miles later, my body still hums with unwanted echoes— his fingers, Chloe’s moans, the wet sounds of forbidden flesh. My panties are soaked, nipples still hard.
God help me.
* * * * * *
Susan:
Morning drags me to breakfast with Robert for last-minute prep on his board presentation. He slides into the booth ten minutes late, looking wrecked— hair tousled, shirt rumpled, eyes shadowed. Damn, he’s gorgeous like this, all raw and undone; my core clenches, imagining stripping him bare right here. But he’s scattered, barely tracking our notes. I’m dying to spill about Stanley, to shatter his walls with a jealous spark. Nothing left to lose.
“I wish you’d have let me ride with you to Concord,” I say, leaning in, my foot brushing his calf under the table. “Ended up hanging with Stanley— you know, the guy from the Concord office?”
“Sure, I know him. Sounds smart. He’s single, you’re single. Nice guy… I take it you two didn’t hit it off?” he asks, voice even, but his eyes flick to my lips. I sense some interest there. Good.
“Oh, we clicked, alright.” I drop my voice to a husky whisper, glancing around the diner to ensure privacy. “Dinner was hot— his hand on my knee the whole time. Afterward, I went back to his place. Kept my car close, though; glad I did. Walked in, and boom— not alone. It was a huge surprise.”
“Really?” His brow arches, intrigue sharpening his gaze.
“Nope. Ex-wife and daughter, chilling in the living room like it’s no big deal. I sit, thinking the ex’ll dip out. But Stanley’s all introductions, settling us in. Then he gets handsy— fingers teasing up my skirt— and suddenly clothes are flying. His ex’s tits are out, begging to be sucked; daughter’s shorts hit the floor, her smooth thighs parting like she does this all the time! They wanted me in a full family fuck-fest.” I lean closer, breath hot on his ear. “Four bodies writhing, no holds barred.”
“What’d you do?” Robert’s voice roughens, a flicker of heat in his eyes.
“Grabbed my shit and ran! Told ’em I’m not wired for that kink. Threesomes are one thing— but exes and a barely-legal daughter? That’s nuts.” I pause, heart pounding from the retell, my panties damp just from the memory. I didn't want to let him know how far I had allowed it to spool out before I bolted, though. “I think it is safer to stick with seducing good looking married men away from their wives.”
“Wait. You said that threesomes are okay, right?”
“What I mean is that this is in a whole different league; with the exwife, a teenaged girl and incest…”
“So you might do a threesome?”
“With three consenting, unrelated adults where one is not young enough to be my child? Maybe. I’m no prude”
Robert changes demeanor, seems to be thinking hard about something, then snaps back to the present. “You think he’s banging his own daughter? For real?” He’s stunned, and I note the protective glint— his own girl is around that age. Horror suits him, makes him real.
“I know for sure that he does. Saw it with my own eyes! He says he’s been fucking her since her eighteenth birthday— pounding that tight young pussy while Mom watches, probably joins. I gape, shocked shitless, and the ex— her own mother— laughs and calls me a prude. Like it’s normal to share your kid.” I trail off, breathless, scanning his face for the jealousy I crave.
He stares, then— bam— bursts into laughter. A deep, belly-shaking roar that echoes off the diner walls. I’m floored. What the fuck? This horror story’s got him cracking up? But it’s infectious; picturing me wide-eyed in that living room, propositioned by a twisted family— ex’s nipples hard, daughter’s lips parted in anticipation— it’s absurdly filthy. Maybe he doesn’t buy it, or maybe the sheer wrongness tickles him in a dark sort of humor. Either way, I crack, giggling at the absurdity, and soon we’re howling, tears streaming, bodies shaking across the table. My foot hooks his ankle now, accidental-intimate, heat building where our laughs collide.
Diners gawk, smiling at our mystery mirth, clueless to the erotic bomb I just dropped. I never circle back to it— why spoil the spark?
Robert:
My presentation lands solid enough, despite the fog in my head— board nods along, no disasters. The four-hour drive home carves out space to unpack the mess: that gut-punch call last night about Lilith and Brad. I am no less furious, but glad that I didn’t do something really stupid last night. When I get home, we will need to have a family meeting and confront this monster, head on. Right now, I cannot envision myself forgiving either of them for what they have done.
I dial Lilith to check in, forcing normalcy like a second skin. Maybe she’ll slip a hint about the weekend’s sins. I remember our promised dinner tonight— candlelight, her body arching under me as apology. I doubt we will go through with that. Not after I confront them with their sin. But the call’s bland; no guilt in her voice, just easy chatter. I wonder if our marriage can survive this. While I am stewing, my phone buzzes. Sarah’s name lights the screen. She’s dorm-prepping for freshman year in two weeks, not home.
“Hello, princess,” I answer, my grin splitting my face, easing, for now, all my tension. She’s my sunbeam, our bond special since day one. “Missing me yet?”
“Hi, Daddy. Bet your ass I am.” Her voice wavers, edged with strain.
“What’s wrong? Everything okay?” Alarm spikes; my grip tightens on the wheel.
“I’ve been better.” Her tone is too bright, brittle. “How do I hook my laptop to that external monitor you got me?” Sarah’s sharp— tech glitches don’t usually faze her.
“Lucky timing— I’m on my way home from Concord. I can swing by, take a look at it.” Dads fix things, you know; it’s wired in us. “Love to see your room. We can grab lunch?”
“Lunch? Yes! I need you right now.” Desperation threads her words.
More than mere connection issues.
“Honey, spill— what’s really eating you?”
A choked sob filters through. “This guy, Dan, down the hall in my dorm. I’m unloading boxes from my car, he’s in the hallway, and chats me up. Then he follows me into my dorm. While I hang curtains, he’s talking, but then he moves up real close right up behind me. He crowds me up— pinning me against the window. Before I can twist free, his hands snake around, cupping my breasts through my top.” She gasps, voice cracking. “I spin to shove him off, but he yanks me against him, his mouth crashing on mine, tongue forcing past my lips. He kissed me and his breath tasted like cheap beer and cigarettes. Ewwww.” She visibly shutters at the thought. Her composure breaks and sobs spill forth, raw and gut wrenching to this daddy.
“Did he hurt you, baby?” Fury boils, veins throbbing.
“No— I wrenched away, screamed for him to get out. He just laughed, called me a prick tease, then sauntered off. But I’m terrified he’ll be back. I don’t even know this freak.” Panic floods her rush of words.
“I’m sorry, Sarah. Unfortunately, there are assholes like that. It’s unforgivable. I’ll handle him— there’s only one language they understand. I will talk sense into the prick. I should be there in about fifteen minutes.”
I screech into the dorm lot, park by her little Civic. Knock soft on 212— don’t want to spook her. The door flies open and Sarah launches into the hall, arms locking around me, face buried in my chest. We freeze there, her body molding to mine, soft and trembling. Denim shorts ride high on her thighs, pastel tank top clinging to her lithe frame. My hands splay on her back, her skin fever-warm under my palms— noting the difference between Sarah’s silky skin versus Lilith’s. Peeking down, my eyes trace her spine to her slim waist, flaring out to that heart-shaped ass, pert and begging to be squeezed. Her blue bra strap a teasing slash between her shoulder blades. Heat stirs low, unbidden— fuck, she’s blooming into womanhood.
We part, her green eyes— mirrors of mine— tilting up, smiling tentatively. She grabs my hand, an electric jolt in her grip, and tugs me inside. Her room’s unexpectedly cozy, IKEA-fresh with posters of boy bands on the walls. “Met your roommate yet?” I ask, voice steady.
“Just on Facebook. Danielle’s a junior in the nursing program. She says she picked me from out of the herd.”
“What’s she like?”
“Awesome— we share a lot of common interests, she’s hilarious, and drop-dead cute. Oh, and Black— she’s gonna be fire.” Her face lights up, the shadows lifting a little.
“Sounds perfect. I’m glad for you. You’re gonna be fine here. So, this Dan prick— walk me through it.”
Her face crumples; hands covering her eyes. “It was awful, Dad. I felt so violated— his hands owning me, his breath hot on my neck. Is it okay for strangers to grope like that, when my head’s screaming no?”
“Hell no. You’re a treasure— no one touches without your say. Where’s his room? I’ll set him straight.”
She whispers the number, then begs me to be careful.
Knocking on Dan’s door, he answers, a beer in hand. He waves me in and drops into a chair. I sit opposite him, play it cool— start with some small talk about dorm life, classes. He’s cocky, all swagger. I know the type. He’s convinced he’s pussy catnip. Awkwardness thickens; he squints, sensing an undercurrent. It’s time to cut to the chase.
“Do you know Sarah?” I probe.
Wary nod. “The new chick down the hall?”
Rage flares— chick? My blood runs hot.
“Nah— my daughter, you asshole. The freshman you mauled in her room.”
His jaw drops; throat works like he’s choking. “Sarah. Nice... girl.”
“Yeah, real nice. Way out of your league. You fucked up bad— crowding her, grabbing her tits like a common whore.”
He stands up, indignant. “I didn’t do shit!”
I rise slow, towering, noses inches apart. I slam his chest with my palm— a solid shove that drops him back into his leather chair. My fists clench, biceps coiling like springs, veins popping, dangerous. His eyes widen at the threat etched in my stance.
“Easy, Mr. Robert,” he stammers. “No trouble here.”
“Then steer clear of Sarah. Fuck off forever.” Glower pins him. He’s toyed with plenty of other girls; not with Sarah. Not on my watch.
“Sure thing.”
“If I hear one whisper of harassment out of you? I’ll come back and kick your ass— personally.” He gapes, mute. I spin and storm out, adrenaline humming.
Back at her dorm, Sarah paces the mini-kitchen, chewing her nails nervously. “How’d it go?” She asks, relief clear on her face.
“No problem. He’s done bothering you. It’s time for lunch— let’s roll.”
She flies at me for a hug, arms crushing tight, breasts pressing full and firm against my chest— soft peaks nudging through thin cotton, her scent floral and fresh. “Thank you, Daddy— you’re the best!” Awkward heat blooms; she’s no kid anymore, body alive and curving into mine, a dangerous spark. I ease back, throat dry, and lead her out— mind reeling from the day’s tangled fires.