Two Horny Ch. 03

Hello again everyone for the third part of Two Horny. I thank everyone for their feedback, and I hope those of you who have read the second part were not too disappointed. I know some readers have mentioned they didn't like the direction that one took and want the dad kept out of it, and to that I say I'm sorry, and you might not want to read this one then. This part focuses on Jess and her dad, in particular the history between them that was hinted at in Part One.

Thank you to those who have posted comments or left feedback ― I do try to take it onboard, and I hope you're not too disappointed the story hasn't proceeded in the direction you would like (and to advocates of Jess/Drew, they will feature again in the future).

As always, all characters are older than eighteen.

* * *

I left Drew to his childish sulking in his room and headed downstairs and then outside into my shed, where I hoped I could get a measure of peace and privacy in which to examine my own problems. I was wracked with guilt and fear over what I'd done with my daughter, and not just last night. She and I had been intimately involved before, a spontaneous once-off occasion which I'd since done my best to try to forget.

I kept trying to justify what I'd done to myself, but all my excuses sounded flimsy and hollow to my ears, and I dreaded what Casey would say when I told her. I tried to tell myself it was just a father-daughter hug, but I knew I was kidding myself. Fathers don't stare at their daughter's breasts as they hug them, or cup their ass and grind up against them. The memory of the lust I felt at that moment haunted me and frightened me with its sudden, unexpected intensity.

The fact that I had seen that lust echoed on Jess's face and in her eyes was even worse.

I didn't know what to do. I knew the right thing was talk to both my wife and daughter about it, but I dreaded both conversations. Casey would be disturbed and devastated, and I knew she might very well leave me. My marriage could be ruined by one moment of stupidity, but concealing it from her was killing me. I had no idea how the talk with my daughter could go.

My insides churned unhappily and I couldn't help shaking my head ruefully. Under ordinary circumstances, a night with the Mercers left both Casey and I feeling relaxed and satisfied. The Mercers were the last couple from our youth that we kept in touch with, and as such were the only couple we still swung with. We'd known the Mercers so long they were almost family ― my mind caustically reminded me that the key word there was 'almost' ― and we enjoyed getting together at least once a month.

Which was, I reflected, probably part of the problem with Casey in the first place.

When we'd first met and started dating, Casey had been almost insatiable. After our first time together she'd been keen for it almost all the time, and we'd spent much of our first six months together in a haze of passion and lust. I'd never been happier than those first six months, and even afterwards when we slowed down a little, we were still having sex every two or so days. This slowed down a little further after we'd gotten married and both started working, but that was because we were both busy rather than out of a lack of interest ― our weekends were still often dominated by indoor activities.

Even after Casey got pregnant with Jess we kept going at it, and after she was born. I had heard from most of married friends that after the baby was born and that's where all Casey's attention would be, but we still always managed to find time for one another. We kept going on regular dates, where we'd end up having quieter, but no less enjoyable, sex while the baby slept in another room. I assumed we would continue on this path and we had, until the night with the Mercers.

It was a drunken mistake at a New Years party. Alice's brother had challenged Paul and I to a beer pong match, and we'd accepted, getting pretty drunk in the process. Our wives had also been drinking a little themselves, enough so that when I crept up on Alice in the early hours of the morning, neither of us realised straight away that the other person wasn't who it was meant to be. I'd fucked Alice hard, not realising that the woman under me wasn't Casey until I had shot my load inside her.

I'd almost died with guilt and, after apologising drunkenly and profusely, staggered to tell my wife. But to my shock she was lying on her hands and knees just outside the room with Paul furiously humping her from behind. She and Paul had stumbled across Alice and I and, to even the score, fucked each other. By all rights this should have destroyed our friendship, but we all decided to just let it go. It was alcohol and bad judgement. I had resolved to never speak of it again, so it was a shock when a week later Alice and Casey approached Paul and I with a proposal: that we get together every now and then for some swinging fun.

We'd been doing it for years. After the initial weirdness wore off it was great fun. Alice was shorter and slightly larger than Casey, but that just meant her curves had greater emphasis, something I loved. Her breasts were larger too and, as of late, her pussy was a bit tighter than Casey's as well. For his part Paul had always had a thing for slim blondes, and was almost too eager to sample my wife whenever possible, although it was hard to justify my jealously when I was a few metres away, thrusting into Alice.

So swinging with the Mercers was fun and I accepted it, although it wasn't necessarily a part of my ideal image of life with Casey. But where those nights were once just chances for full-blown, all-night wild sex, they were becoming my only chance for sex. Casey was pulling away from me, and I found that lately I was fucking Alice more often than I was my own wife and, more disturbingly, Paul was fucking Casey more than I was. He and I were good friends, but I couldn't help remember how he'd stolen girlfriends of mine in past and not feel a shiver of apprehension.

It probably also didn't help that Alice had called me last week and told me she suspected Paul of having an affair.

The door to my shed swung open and Casey stepped through, knocking me out of my reflective mood. "Yes dear?"

"Did you speak to Andrew?" she asked. I suppressed a frown at both her tone and the fact she insisted on calling him Andrew. He had long made it clear he preferred to be called Drew, but she had yet to give it up. It was still an issue between them, and I was sick of the arguments. From both sides.

"Yes. He is not happy about it, but he agreed to go past sometime tomorrow after his homework is done," I told her, and she screwed up her face in a frown.

"He has to go past today," Casey said. "In fact I'm leaving in five minutes, so I can drop him off if he comes now."

I immediately made myself look busy, shifting some tools around purposefully. "Well you better go and tell him then," I said, making it damn clear I wasn't going to deliver this news for her. "Unless of course you'd just rather I drop him off tomorrow."

There, I'd provided her with an alternative option so she could avoid a row with her son. But did she take it? No. Casey swept off to the house, and I closed my door and sat down, wondering how twenty-two years of marriage had led to this. I'd been married to Casey for half of my life now, and what things had never seemed worse.

Anyway, she was gone now, taking Drew with her (I knew he would go. Casey would give him little choice), which just left Jess and I home. My mind immediately returned to our encounter in her bedroom, and beyond that the incident where I'd caught her smuggling alcohol out of the house...

* * *

It was a Friday and I'd come home from work early, hoping to surprise my wife and whisk her out to dinner. She'd been spending an increasing amount of time at work recently, and our sex life was definitely suffering. Sometimes it seemed that the only times she got home before six thirty was when we had plans with the Mercers, hah! We'd had plans tonight but Paul was stuck in his office and had to cancel, and I knew Casey was free, so I'd made reservations at her favourite restaurant. I'd bought champagne, her favourite type of chocolate, and some flowers for her. I was really making an effort.

I placed the champagne in the fridge to keep it chilled, ditto the chocolates, and placed the flowers in an empty vase. It was just past five, so Casey wouldn't be home for another hour, so I rushed upstairs and shaved and then had a shower to make sure I was clean and presentable. It was when I was exiting our bathroom I realised my last pair of clean underwear were in the dryer, so with my towel wrapped around my waist I went to get them. And bumped into our daughter. Quite literally.

Jess bounced off me and fell to the floor, letting out a cry of anger and pain. I immediately bent over and offered my hand, which she ignored as she pushed herself off the floor. Jess was just turned eighteen and going through some issues, particularly with her mother. She was of the opinion that she was now an adult and entitled to make her own decisions, something which Casey fought at every opportunity. I personally sought the middle ground. I was happy for Jess to pick her own path, but there were some things that I could not let go. Such as how she'd taken to dressing.

She was bound for a party tonight, and her clothes made me internally cringe. She was wearing a tiny, figure-hugging red dress that I had never seen before. It started halfway down her bust, revealing far too much cleavage, and ended mid-thigh, so high that boys would be able to get an eyeful by simply watching her walk.

"You are not going out dressed like that," I stated clearly and firmly. This was my serious voice, and Jess knew it.

"Dad!" she whined, but I didn't care. No daughter was going out dressed like that.

"I'm standing here wearing a bath-towel and am still dressed more modestly than you," I said, and all of a sudden we both realised that I was only wearing a towel. It could have been embarrassing, but I pushed past it. "Unless you'd rather stay home tonight, I suggest you go and wear something that won't pop off if you sneeze."

Leaving her to scowl at my back, I headed to the laundry and retrieved my underwear, then returned to my bedroom and got dressed. I put on a nice blue suit and a nice shirt and tie, and when I looked at myself in the mirror it seemed off. I could never pick out clothes. I stuck my head out into the hallway and hollered for Jess to come help me for a minute. She appeared, reluctantly, and took in what I was wearing and sighed.

"You know dad, for an architect you have a terrible grasp of matching colours," she said, and went about picking out some better clothes for me. She'd changed into a more respectable blue dress, still short but not terribly so, so I sat in silence while she went about her business.

"What's this for, anyway?" she asked as she returned my blue suit to the wardrobe. "I thought you had the Mercers tonight?"

"Paul's busy so we cancelled," I explained, "And since your mum is rarely free, I thought I'd use this night to treat her a little."

Jess snorted. "Fat lot of thanks you'll get," she huffed. "I don't know why you still put up with her sometimes."

I looked at Jess with some alarm. I knew they had their differences, but the venom in her voice was completely unexpected, and it worried me. "I love your mother," I said cautiously. She made no response. "I know she's been busy lately and she's been under a lot of stress, and you too haven't been getting along―"

"I don't want to talk about it now," Jess interrupted, and then starting handing me clothes. "This will look good," she said shortly, and then left, probably to finish getting herself ready.

I dressed and headed downstairs, where I put some ice in a bucket and rested it on the living room table. I placed the chocolates beside it, put the champagne in the bucket, and then fetched some candles and two glasses. Jess and Drew were both going out ― in fact Drew had told us he was heading straight to his mate's place ― so for a while it would just be Casey and I, and I was determined to make the most of it.

Six o'clock came and went. Six thirty saw me sitting in the light of several slowly-dying candles, alone. At twenty to seven I tried to call her and got no answer. I called again. And then once more. At ten to I blew out the surviving candles, and tried to call her again. This time she answered, and after a few seconds of muffled rustling I heard her voice.

"What is it, John?" she sounded out of breath and irritated.

"Well it's almost seven and I was wondering what time you'd be home," I said, struggling to keep the annoyance out of my tone. Casey had no such qualms.

"The office is swamped with work right now. We just took on a new client and it's my responsibility to see he's taken care of. I'm not going to home until late, so there's no need to wait up for me. The girls and I are eating in the office, so there's no need to save any dinner for me either."

"Bye," I tried. "I love you―" All I heard was the soft tone of my phone telling me the connection had ended. I hung up.

"I'm not surprised, dad," Jess called from upstairs. "All she does it work now."

I didn't respond, and for a while just sat by myself in the dark. I felt anger and despair wash through me, and the anger won. I got up and left, slamming the front door behind me, leaving the champagne and chocolates where they lay. I ran down the driveway and then turned, running along the street as if I could somehow sprint away from my problems. The pounding of my feet matched the pounding of my head until it almost seemed I would burst. I reached the end of our street and turned, continuing down the road until I reached a corner, where I turned again. My breath burned in my lungs as I reached another corner and turned again and then stopped, my chest heaving as I bent over, my knees and ankles burning.

I don't know how long I stood there but eventually my breathing settled and I continued along this last road, knowing if I turned left for the fifth and last time I'd be back on my street. It was getting dark and I walked slowly, irritated at the world in general. My anger had faded but the despair remained, and I decided that I'd get home and drink myself into a slight stupor to get myself to sleep. As my father used to say, alcohol didn't solve your problems, but it made enduring them a lot easier.

I kept most of my beer in the fridge in our garage, so that was where I headed. I assumed that Jess would have left by now and, in doing so, locked the front door, so I ignored the house completely and slowly made my way up our dark driveway. I carefully stepped through the side-gate and then up to the garage door. I opened it and stepped inside and was greeted by a shrill squeal of surprise as I bumped into something solid and warm in the dark.

Stepping back, my hand slapped the wall by the side of the door, hitting the light switch. Light filled the garage, falling on Jess where she was scrambling up off the floor. She was wearing that red dress again and, almost as bad, she had a small cardboard box that she had half-filled with bottles of beer.

I was shocked. While I knew Jess was eighteen and legally allowed to drink, she'd never shown any inclination to do so. She might have a sip of her mum's wine every now and then, but she'd always politely refused any alcoholic beverage when around us. I had thought she didn't like the taste, or maybe just wasn't interested in it. But here she was, dressed like she intended to walk along the side of the road, with a box filled with beer. And stolen beer at that.

She knew she was in trouble, and she seemed frozen by fear. She crouched before me, that stupid dress fluffed up so much she might as well as not worn anything, gazing up at me fearfully. Her eyes searched my face, and began to water.

"Who are those for?" I asked her quietly, gesturing to the beers. She just stared at me. "I'll ask you one more time, and please don't lie to me. Who are those for?"

Jess swallowed and mumbled, "Some boys."

"What boys?"

Again, the mumbled response, "Some boys Lana met. They were going to take us to a party, but we had to bring stuff, to be fair, you know. We both had to bring some drinks, and Lana had to get food too."

"Right," I said angrily, my temper rising. "Where is this party?"

Jess hesitated. "I don't know."

"You don't know?!"

She was upset and defensive now. "They didn't tell us because they still had to sort out whose house it was going to be at with their friends. They're going to pick us up from Lana's house."

I pulled out my phone and started dialling. Jess immediately panicked and went to stand, but then cowered as I glared at her. "You and Lana have both been very foolish," I nearly spat, "The kindest thing those guys could have done to you too is take your drinks and food and then ditch you somewhere. I doubt you have any idea of what kind of shit you two could have walked into. I thought we raised you better than to go off to a party ― that you have no idea where it is ― with a bunch of guys you barely know."

As I scolded her, Jess turned away, looking sick and suddenly scared. I hoped she was thinking about the consequences of what just happened rather than being worried I was about to get her friend in trouble. I found the number of Lana's family on speed-dial and waited while it rang. It was eventually answered.

"Hello," a woman's voice said. Lana's mother, I supposed.

"Hello Mrs Brown, this is John Walker, Jess's father," I said.

"Oh, hello John," the woman said. "Is Jess feeling okay? We're expecting her over shortly."

"Mrs Brown, are you aware of what Lana and my daughter planned on doing tonight?"

There was a slight pause. I could almost feel her suspicion growing. "They told me they were going out with some of their girlfriends to dinner," she said slowly.

I then proceeded to tell Mrs Brown everything I had learned from my daughter, and by the end of it she was as angry as I was. She thanked me for calling her, and apologised that she had allowed Lana to almost drag Jess into a potentially dangerous situation. I said it was okay, as I personally felt that each of the girls was evenly responsible for what had almost befallen them. As I looked down at my daughter, who refused to meet my eyes, I couldn't help but feel glad that Casey was working. God knows what might have happened if Jess had been able to go out tonight.

As I stared down at Jess I couldn't help but notice how much flesh she was showing, and how much of a young woman she was. From my vantage point standing above her I could see almost everything, and as I looked at her heaving chest something completely unexpected and unwelcome happened. I started to get hard.

Revising my plan to get drunk, I thought I'd send Jess to her room and then watch some television myself, after we had a bit of a chat about trusting strange boys and being safe with your friends. I coughed and went to speak, but Jess interrupted me.

"You're not going to tell mum, are you?" she asked desperately.

I paused. Casey was already unhappy with Jess, and while they fought most of the time anyway, this could worsen an already strained relationship. I was angry at Jess but I was fair, and I knew Casey would not be. She would come down and come down hard, and Jess would be punished severely. I had no problem with that but I knew Casey would go too far, and her overbearing and controlling manner would likely destroy what little peace they had left between them.

Evidently Jess took my pause the wrong way, because she started looking around wildly. "Please dad," she pleaded, "I'll do anything. I'll..." her eyes continued to roam frantically, skating over me before coming to rest on my crotch. "I'll rub you off through your pants," she said desperately.