Night of the Storm

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All characters are 18 or older.

*****

She knew it was silly.

And, if she was really honest, she wasn't as scared of them now as she had been when she was younger. Then she would really cry as she made her way along the corridor to her parents' room, howling even louder if the lightning flashed as she did so, illuminating the house with those eerie, spooky shadows. Just long enough for the monsters to see her, and for Emily to know they were there...

And she would run even faster, bursting open her parents' door. Her dad probably already awake, listening out for her, smiling reassuringly. Then her mom would wake up, bleary eyed and irritable.

Then the usual conversation, how lightning was nothing to be scared of, she was a big girl now, and yes, the thunder was loud but it was just a NOISE, and it couldn't hurt her. And yet, for all the lectures, she would know that in a few minutes she would be tucked up beside Mommy in bed and Dad would kiss her and then wander off to her room to sleep there. She'd often wished it could have been the other way around, just once, and Mom would be the one to go and Dad could stay, but no, it was always Dad.

She admitted that one good thing about that was that she got to sleep on his side of the bed, her head on his pillow, the bed still warm from him, and that lovely, male, reassuring smell. And, for the next few nights, her own bed would smell of him too. She treasured that, and was always wistful when it eventually faded.

But that was all a long time ago, and Emily was much bigger now. An adult, though she didn't always feel like one. But certainly too old to be scared of noisy weather.

But... this was a big old storm. One of the loudest, most intense she could remember. And it was close, hardly any gap between the flash of lightning and the intense, brutal clap of the following thunder.

The lightning flashed once more, and there was the horrible noise again. She gasped.

No, she was too old. She could snuggle back down, maybe pull the blankets over her head -- that would be ok -- and go back to sleep.

Except...

Her mother was away. Her dad was down the corridor, probably lying awake, knowing how much she hated storms. It would almost be kinder to go and see him, let him know she was OK, and then he could sleep. And it would make her feel better to see him, just for a minute.

So -- yes. Better for both of them.

Decision made, she slipped out of bed. Dressing gown, she wondered? It was chilly. But no, she'd zoom down, tell him she was fine, zoom back. She'd be back in her warm bed in two minutes tops.

The rain thudded heavily on the roof as she opened her door and made her way along the corridor. How many storms had there been when she'd done this, she wondered? Ten? Twenty? Hard to keep track. A lot, anyway.

The door to her parents' room was ajar and she pushed it open.

"Hi Emily." Her Dad's voice, a little sleepy, but amused and affectionate. "I thought you might be along."

"Hi Dad. I just came to tell you I'm fine. In case you were worried."

She saw him move slightly in the darkness, just a shape. It was strange to see her mother's side so empty.

"Thanks darling. I'm glad. You go back to bed now. I'll see you in the morning."

"Night Daddy. Love you."

"Love you too."

She turned to go, but then a question came to her. She hadn't realised it was there, but it must have been, lurking just below the surface these last few days.

"Dad?"

"Yes hon?"

"Is Mom... she is coming back, isn't she?"

There was a silence.

"Yes Emily, she's coming back."

"Is she really at Aunt Susie's?"

Another pause. She knew sometimes they lied to her, she understood parents had to do that sometimes, but she really hoped he wouldn't now.

"No, she's not there. She's... I think she's in a hotel. Or maybe staying with Diana."

"You don't KNOW?"

"Sssh! It's fine. We'll sort it out. Husbands and wives... they have these little bumps in the road. You'll find out one day. Now... go back to bed."

"She's going to come back?"

"Yes. Of course she is."

Dad's voice was reassuring, soothing, confident. But it wasn't working. She still felt unsettled. Something was wrong.

I don't want her to come back, she suddenly realised. God, what a bitch I am. I don't want my mother back.

And it was true. The house was a nicer, calmer place without her. Her Dad seemed more relaxed. Even Jester, their cat, seemed even sleepier and lazier than usual. Somehow when Mom was around, everything was that little bit more tense. She had the ability to find fault with anything, or generate drama out of nothing. But she knew her father loved her, and he must miss her.

"OK... well, good night."

"Good night Emily."

"Dad?"

"Yes?" A slightly exasperated tone now, but she never worried about that. Dad hardly ever got cross, and when he did it was like a short, sharp explosion, lasting just a few minutes and then gone, the offender forgiven and everybody friends again. Whereas her mother... her mother could simmer for weeks over things, cold and bitchy until you could hardly bear to be in the same room with her. She wasn't sure her mother ever really forgave anything. It was all filed away, ready to be trotted out and used against you at some point in the future.

"Could I... can I sleep here tonight? It's a big storm."

As if to prove her point the lightning obligingly flashed again. She braced herself for the thunderclap, but still jumped when it arrived.

"You're a bit old for that, Emily."

"Just tonight. It might be the last time. Please, Daddy?"

"Fine. Get in. But don't hog the blankets."

See? He was teasing her. She was forgiven already.

"I won't."

She was glad to slip into her mother's side of the bed. It was strangely unfamiliar, being there, rather than where he was. Different smells, too. More feminine, yet somehow slightly harsh.

The sheets were cold, and she shivered. She wished her father could reach over and cuddle her, just for a minute, but she knew he wouldn't. He was much more careful now with his physical affection these days, ever since her body had changed and ripened. She understood that too, but she missed the bear hugs and the cuddles on his lap and even the piggy back rides from when she'd been really small.

"You warm enough?"

"Mmhmm." She wasn't, but she didn't want him padding off to get her a hot water bottle or an extra blanket. It was nice to feel him so close.

"Sleep well darling."

"You too Daddy. Love you."

"Love you too."

She listened to the rain pour down outside. She could just make out her father's breathing over the sound of it. It was a soothing noise, and she smiled to herself to hear it.

Lucky mom, she thought. To have him there, night after night, smelling so nice, so calming and relaxing and...

...and available to fuck you...

God! Where did that come from? She brought her knees up to her chest and hugged herself, annoyed with that rogue thought. Of course, her parents must fuck. All grown-ups fucked. She, herself, Emily, had indeed... fucked. To be precise, she had fucked with Ricky (meh) and Albie (really pretty good). And had given oral sex to Steve (surprisingly fun, if a little messy and frustratingly one-sided).

... stop fucking thinking about fucking...

Dad's breathing was slow and steady. Was he asleep?

Or was he also thinking about fucking?

... of course he's not fucking thinking about fucking...

She felt the familiar tingle between her legs, and scowled in the darkness. If she'd stayed in her room she could have taken care of that. Now she'd just have to lie awake, feeling horny and frustrated, listening to that damn storm. She could have rummaged in her bedside drawer, behind the bottles of perfume and tubs of make-up, got out her little Rabbit that Lindsey had bought for her, and had a really, good fun session. Just her luck to be here now.

... well, you could sneak back to your room and do it...

No, Dad would wake up. And he'd ask where she was going, and she couldn't exactly say she was going to go back to her room to have a marathon masturbation session, could she? Though actually, she thought he'd probably be cool with that too. OK sweetie, he'd say. Have a nice time. Let me know if you need any new batteries in that Rabbit of yours hidden in your drawer...

Fuck! This was getting worse. Perhaps if she was super-quiet, she could get back to her room without waking him up. The rain was still pretty loud. That would cover some of her noise. But this was an old house with lots of creaks and squeaks, and Dad was always a light sleeper. Probably wouldn't work.

... besides, you're only getting wet because you're in bed with him...

That was not true! She scolded herself severely. Of course it wasn't true! God, her mind could be a real monkey at times. It was like that old mind experiment they used to tell you about -- for the next five minutes, don't think about a pink elephant. And for the next five minutes, that's all you can think about it. Even if you made them blue tigers in your head -- pop! -- they'd be straight back to being pink elephants.

...ok then, for the next five minutes, don't think about being fucked by your Dad...

OK, she was going to HAVE to go back to her room. She was clearly some kind of sick deviant. Even if she had to come up with the lamest explanation, or fall back on that old female favourite, the "tummy ache", she had to get out of there.

...don't think about what his come might taste like...

Right. Going now. Fuck you, evil voice in my head. I could have had a nice, relaxing snooze with my caring, loving, handsome dad, and you've gone and spoilt everything.

... why did you call him handsome? I'll tell you why. Because you want him to fuck you...

No, it's because he IS handsome. All my friends say so. Especially that bitch Lindsey. The way she flirted with him last weekend at the barbeque was just sickening! Poor Dad. Though... he did seem to be enjoying it, in his quiet, amused way. And Lindsey with her fucking low-cut tops and her short skirts and the way she kept finding excuses to touch him, practically saying with her body language that she wanted him to please bend her over, lift up that slutty skirt of hers, and fuck her hard, right there, right now.

... Jealous much? He did seem to like looking at Lindsey's tits, didn't he?...

She scowled again. Yes, he did. Lindsey did have nice tits, that was true. I mean, some might say they were a bit too big, but it wasn't as if she made any effort to make them look smaller or more discreet. Her own tits were surely a much nicer size, around a C cup, just enough to be a handful, not so much as to be a nuisance. Certainly Ricky, Albie and Steve had all seemed pretty damned pleased with getting to see them and play with them and suck on them... mmm, Albie had been good with his mouth.

... I bet Dad is even better with his mouth. And not just on your tits...

Fuck yeah. She squirmed on the bed. That was hot. The idea of her dad's mouth between her legs, his tongue on her, teasing at her clit, perhaps slipping a finger inside her...

God, what was WRONG with her? Get the hell out of there NOW.

"Emily? You OK sweetie?"

"Dad... sorry, I didn't realise you were awake."

"You seem a bit restless. Don't worry about the storm, it'll pass soon. But listen to that rain... it's seriously wet out there."

... it's pretty damn wet in here, Daddy. Come taste my little pussy and see...

"I was thinking... I should probably go back to my room."

"Oh... OK. Sure, if you want too."

"Unless you want me to stay?" Trying to keep her voice low and matter of fact.

"I want you to sleep, honey." He sounded a little wistful. "But... it's kind of nice having you here. Like when we used to go camping."

That was sweet. See? Forget all this sick, pervy stuff. He just wants you to be his little girl for a while longer. It would be mean and selfish to deprive him of that.

"Yes... it is nice, I'll stay then."

"If you want to go back to your room, that's fine. I'll bring you some coffee when I wake up."

"No... I want to stay."

She wriggled around and tried to get herself comfortable, lying with her back to him. She sensed him looking at her in the dark.

"Are you all right Em? You're... in a kind of funny mood."

"I'm fine... I'm just, I don't know."

"Do you want to talk about it? You can tell me anything, you know."

... well Daddy, what's put me in this horny mood is thinking about you fucking me. Though, what I'd really like first is to play with your cock, wrapping my little hands around it, and make you super-hard, and then suck you. Then, if you wouldn't mind, I'd like you to lick my pussy until I can't stand it. I think you'll find I'm pretty wet already, but that would really get my motors running. And then you can slide your lovely dick into me and really fuck me hard until I come and come and come...

"No... I'm OK. Thanks."

"You're not worried about Mom, are you? She'll be back soon, I promise."

... I'm only worried I might not fuck as well as she does. But god, I'm gonna try. You have no idea what a sexy little bitch I can be when I get going, Daddy...

He reached over and put a hand on her head, stroking her hair gently just as he'd done when she was little. That was nice.

"Try and sleep, sweetheart."

No fucking way I'm going to sleep, she thought regretfully. But I'll have to pretend, for his sake. Close my eyes, breathe heavily, keep still. If I can do that for five minutes, he'll fall asleep and I can sneak off.

**

When she woke up a few hours later he was rolled up against her. He must have fallen asleep stroking her hair, as his arm was draped rather awkwardly across her shoulder. His hand was just above her breast. She could feel his breath, those nice, slow, relaxing sounds, just behind her ear.

It was still raining heavily, though the storm seemed to have passed.

Well, she thought. This kind of fucks up my escape plan.

...yeah right. Like you really wanted to escape...

It was something of a dilemma. Much as she loved her dad, and being this close to him, this was not the most comfortable of positions. His arm was surprisingly heavy, and it was digging down into her. She would have to try and move that, at least. But she would try and do it without waking him. Maybe when she did, he would roll away in his sleep, back to his side of the bed. And Emily, the world's worst deviant daughter, could sneak away to her room and fuck herself silly with her small pink vibrator.

Sounded like a plan.

She reached over carefully and took hold of his hand and raised his arm. She started to move it slowly downwards and away from her. He made a deep grumbling noise in his throat and she froze. He shifted slightly and pulled his hand away, still unconscious, and dropped it down back onto her.

... hey that worked out well, Emily Baby. He's groping your tits. Welcome to Slutsville, Deviant County. Population: You.

He wasn't EXACTLY groping her, but... it was beyond dispute that his hand now rested on her breast, the one closest to the bed as she lay on her side. As she lay there, transfixed, he muttered again and moved in a little closer, bringing more of his body into contact with her.

What to do now?

...his hand feels nice there. Admit it...

Yes... yes it did. But it was not helpful. She could feel her nipple hardening under his touch. And her groin, taking its cue from this, tingled again in that familiar, wonderful way.

What she should do, of course, is this: Take his hand firmly away. Roll him back onto his side. If he doesn't wake up, great. See Plan A above -- the Return To Bedroom and Engage With Pink Rabbit scenario. And if he does wake up, just tease him, and tell him he was hogging the bed and snoring, and you are going back to your bed. If he's a little embarrassed, so be it. Much better than him waking up and realising he's squeezing the tits of his teen daughter... while pressing his semi-hard cock into her backside.

She'd only just become aware of this last aspect. She wasn't entirely sure that's what it was, but it seemed likely. The only way to find out would be to push her ass back into him, but that seemed like a bad idea.

Right then. Deep breath.

... oh, come on! Why not enjoy it for a minute more? When are you ever going to get his hands on your boobs again?...

This was true, but she should remember she was a Good Daughter, and not the appalling sicko that her devil whisperer seemed to want her to be.

... the Good Daughter who, when she gets back to her room, and gets out her Pink Rabbit, is going to play with herself thinking about her daddy...

That would be... fine, she told herself. That would be allowed. Everybody has naughty fantasies. And it's not a problem, if that's what they stay. The difference between good people and bad people is that good people don't act on them. There was no way she was going to stay here for one minute longer.

Except...

...except for the fact he was getting harder.

She could feel him pushing against her much more firmly now, a persistent probing at the junction of her legs. No question about it now. That was her father's swelling cock, and only a couple of sheets of thin material, and a few centimetres, separated it from her increasingly wet pussy.

Just. Fucking. Move. Now.

Get. The. Hell. Out. Of. Here.

She moved. But somehow, rather than pushing him away, she eased back a little with her backside, closer to him. She almost gasped at how hard he was. It was like pushing herself against a bar of steel.

... don't be too proud of yourself, sweetie. It's just a guy thing. He's not thinking about you. If he's thinking about anything, he's probably dreaming about coming all over Lindsey's tits...

That was not fair! She thought irritably that if she was going to have a devil voice in her head, it might at least be a bit more supportive. Whose side was it fucking on?

She reached up and touched her father's hand. She meant to lift it off and then roll away, but instead she pressed it down more firmly onto her breast. She could feel her nipple was like a bullet underneath his palm.

She squeezed his hand. "Dad?"

"Mmm." More of a grunt than anything.

"Dad!" Softer, but more urgent.

He grumbled and slowly came awake. He tried to move his hand, but she kept hold of it.

"Emily... what is it? What's the matter?"

"Nothing Dad. You just... rolled over and started cuddling me."

"Oh... I'm sorry." He was becoming a little more aware now. "I'll... go back to my side. Sorry hon."

"No... stay there, Daddy... please."

There. She'd said it. She was officially the sickest, worst daughter in the world. He would snatch his hand away, scuttle over to his side of the bed, switch the light on, look at her in horror...

He didn't move.

"You want me to stay... like this?"

"Yes. Please, Daddy."

They lay like that for a little while. She was still tense, waiting for him to start telling her how wrong it was, how she should get out of his bed, they must never speak of this or do anything like this ever again...

But he didn't.

"Daddy?"

"Yes, Emily?"

"Do you like it too? I mean... cuddling me like this?"

A long silence.

"Yes... I do."

She almost cried with relief.

"I like it too, Dad. I mean... I really like it. You know?"