Chapter 1

That guy showed up at our house on a Sunday morning. When I woke up, he was sitting at the breakfast table, in the spot that used to be my late dad’s. Still in my sleep clothes, I heard him say something, but I was too groggy to make it out. I grabbed a glass of water, hit the bathroom for my morning piss, and headed straight back to bed.

Over time, I started noticing something off about him. Wherever I was in the house, his eyes followed me, scanning my body with this uncomfortable intensity, like he was trying to strip away any protection I had. My mom’s boyfriend seemed way too interested in me.

Mom didn’t seem to notice; she was avoiding it, she was lonely and sad and didn’t want to see anything that would bring her more pain. It was obvious from the way he looked at me, that hungry expression of desire. I shouldn’t have liked it. He was older, but it turned me on to tease him, like some naughty girl prank.

One of those times, while I was sitting with my legs spread wide, being all provocative while he watched, showing more than I should, I walked past him. He grabbed my arm, firm, stopping me in my tracks.

“Can I ask you something? You can’t tell your mom. Okay?” His voice sounded like he knew he was doing something wrong; it was shaky.

“Do you have a boyfriend?”

“No, but I did, I’ve had a few.”

“So you’ve never fucked?” He was talking to me, but his eyes were on the kitchen door, keeping watch for my mom.

“Tons of times…” I exaggerated a bit.

“You’re a real treat, you know that? I keep imagining your mom when she was young like you…” He was drooling as he talked to me.

“She was like this?” I looked at him, forcing him to drop his watch on the door; our eyes locked, I could see every inch of expression on his face. I took one of his hands and guided it inside my loose shorts. The guy flinched when he realized what I was up to, trying to pull his hand away.

“Are you crazy, you little slut?”

“If you pull your hand away, I’ll scream for my mom. You keep staring at me, I know you want me. Go on, touch me and taste what I’ve got.”

His eyes went wide with fear, his face a mix of pure terror and excitement. His fingers slid down through my barely trimmed pubes and nestled into my flesh and folds, not wet enough yet. His clumsy touch from this rough guy annoyed me, but I stayed stiff, staring him in the eye. It didn’t feel good while he fingered my folds and shoved his fingers in me.

“Smell it, take your finger out and smell it!” My tone was deadly serious; he knew I could ruin his life if I wanted.

The older guy pulled his hand out of me, and like a kid, he sniffed and tasted the sweetness on his fingers. I watched his animalistic way of giving in to his lust.

“You got a hard-on, old man?” I asked dryly, expressionless; I wanted to embarrass him.

He didn’t have time to answer, but he did, I knew it. My mom showed up right then, and I saw him shove himself further under the table to hide from the woman who knew his body better than I did.

“What were you two talking about?” She was bringing a tray of food for lunch.

“He said his hand smells funny and doesn’t know what it is! Smell it, Mom, see if you can figure it out!”

My mom sniffed his hand, furrowed her brows, but from her face, she didn’t come to any conclusion. The guy was purple from holding his breath and sweating bullets.

“Come help me bring the stuff, honey?” She said in a tired tone and turned back to the kitchen to finish lunch.

As soon as she took two steps away from me, I slipped one strap of my top down, letting a tit hang out, and pulled the front of my shorts down, showing my messy pubes, and whispered just loud enough for him to hear:

“What do you wanna suck? Tit or pussy?”

I didn’t stick around to see his reaction; he called my name, but I ignored him. Now I was happy, a grin spreading from ear to ear on my face. I figured if I made him uncomfortable enough, he’d bolt from our lives out of fear.

At the table for lunch, I sat right next to him, facing my mom. I wouldn’t even need a hand for my utensils anymore. As soon as we served ourselves, my hand went to his leg, hunting for the bulge over that old, thin Bermuda shorts he wore.

“Honey, you okay? The food’s too spicy, isn’t it? You’re sweating!”

“It’s a little, yeah, babe! But it’s delicious!”

Delicious must’ve been my hand groping for an opening to find some skin. At one point, he seemed to give up and fought under the table to pull my hand away, but he wasn’t gonna win. I’d pinched his limp dick in a twist and yanked it out of his pants over the waistband. The old man was half-hard and didn’t seem to want to get fully going, but he was packing, I could tell by feel. The head of his cock was melting, leaking fluid that I tried to coax out with my fingertip.

“Honey, drink some juice!” My mom said, filling my glass.

“Mmm! So good, Mom, I just need to stir it.” The hand that had been teasing his precum now served as a spoon to stir the juice.

“With your finger, girl?”

“It’s for a special flavor!”

And just like that, we finished lunch. I did the dishes and didn’t see the two of them the rest of the afternoon.