Disclaimer: Everybody is over eighteen. Everything is fictional. Any similarities are accidental. Don't abuse people.
I'm going to take her tonight.
The idea came to Russell as he watched them from the window of his second-floor bedroom. Below, the objects of his attention: daughter - Katie - and her two friends - Jessica and Emily - waded and talked about college, in the shallow end of the backyard pool. Russel's eyes slipped from his daughter's bronze skin and blonde locks and skipped right over Jessica's blotched and pudgy body where the war between childhood and puberty still raged on in the form battling hormones and acne. There! His eyes fixed on the third and only remaining girl.
Emily!
Emily, whom Russell first met at the beginning of the summer. Emily, whom he first discounted as only his daughter's friend, then reevaluated as an attractive young woman, and finally lusted over, imagining, in vivid detail, the things he would do to her, if ever he was given an opportunity. Emily, with those magnetic green eyes and often-present shy crooked grin. The petite frame and flawless light tan of her skin. Small, perfect, perky breasts.
Russell's eyes flared, as they have done many times over the course of the last three months. His heart threatened to beat out of his chest and his stomach churned with excitement and fear. He forced himself away from the window and out of the room, but the memory of the girl in that yellow bikini followed until he felt like it was chasing him as he walked and then half-jogged his way down the stairs and into the den, where he collapsed on the couch and flipped on the news.
On the couch, he resolved to stay until the girls were done swimming. On the couch is where he would regain his composure and steel himself for what was to come.
...
An hour crept by before Russell saw the three girls pile into the house and run up the stairs to shower and change. Another twenty minutes of mindless fiddling on the phone and Russell made his way up the stairs and into Katie's room.
There they were - all wearing baggy t-shirts and fitness shorts - their hair wet form the shower. Russell checked to see if they wanted pizza. The question was met with resounding confirmation and toping discussions. There was also other small talk and laughter. Lots of laughter. As conversation meandered from food to other topics and back to food again, Russell strolled over to Katie's bed, seating himself next to Emily. In front of him and Emily, Katie and Jessica wrestled with each other over the control of the marker they were using to write down the order, both girls breathless from the play-fight.
"Emily," Russel said, smiling at the girl and putting his hand on her shoulder "while those two are down there being useless, how about you? What do you want on that pizza?"
Emily isn't picky. She smiled and Russell caught the twinkle of her eyes as she looks up at him from underneath her pixie haircut. "I was fine with pepperoni," she replied, shrugging her other shoulder.
His eyes still fixed on Emily, Russell moved his hand, sliding from her inner shoulder to her bicep. Noticing the movement, the girl returned her attention back to Russell's face and then his hand. Slowly, Russell let go of the girl's arm and moved it toward her left breast. Emily jerked as Russell's hand brushes up against her breast, stopping for a moment at the nipple and then gently cupping it in its entirety. A moment passed, as the girl tried to comprehend what was happening. Then that moment was gone and Russell was now standing and the girls on the floor rolled into a lamp, knocking it over and laughing, and now Russell was walking out of the room and Emily was still struggling to catch up.
"Ok, ladies," Russell said, as he's walking out of the room and shooting a glance at a still dumbstruck Emily staring back at him, "I'm making the call in five minutes, so whoever wins this death-match has to tell me what they want before then!"
Dinner was an equally ruckus affair. Russell regales the girls with stories of Katie's childhood, Katie and Jessica are in an almost constant fit of laughter. Russell laughs along to keep up appearances. Emily, is subdued and focused on her food. Every once in a while, Russell catches the girl throw a fearful look his way. The other two girls are oblivious.
A half an hour and two pizzas later, the girls return back up the stairs to wash up and retire in Katie's room. The diner's trash and dirty dishes are left on the counter upon which they dined. Russell doesn't have the time to clean up now. Not if he wants things to go according to his plan. He checks to make sure that he is alone on the first floor and then creeps into the garage to pick up some tools he would need to make his preparations.
***
The clock on her cellphone tells Emily that it's one in the morning. The house is completely still. After tossing and turning for an hour, Emily gets up and makes her way to the bathroom. The door to Katie's bathroom is locked. Confused, Emily spends a full minute staring at the handle, trying to figure out how a door can be locked when nobody is inside. Finally, she gives up and, with the help of her phone's light, tip-toes down to the downstairs bathroom.
The first-floor bathroom's door is mercifully open. Emily pauses briefly, as she examines the door handle, because she can find no locking mechanism, but then gives up on finding it, as she doubts her privacy would be disturbed at this late an hour. Katie is already on the toilet, her shorts bunched around her ankles and her phone still in her hand, when she hears the sound of movement outside the door. A dull wave of fear passes through her and she stops relieving herself midstream, as the door handle twists and the once-dull wave turns into a sharp spike.
It is Mr. Masterson. Emily lets out a squeak of embarrassment. Dropping her phone, she ducks down towards the shorts around her ankles. She jerks them upwards in effort to make herself decent, but the waistband rips out of her grasp as she makes the upward motion. The fear she felt turns to horror. The shorts lie there on the floor, with Mr. Masterson's foot anchoring them down.
This is not an accidental visit,
she realizes. Her muscles shake and tense as she looks up at her friend's father, tears already forming in her eyes.
"Mr. Masterson, I-" she starts saying, but is cut off when Mr. Masterson raises his right index finger and places it across her lips.
"Shh..." is all he says, as his left index comes up to cross his lips in the same gesture.
Emily sobs, but stays otherwise quiet. After a few moments, Mr. Masterson brings his left hand up to Emily's cheek cradling it in his palm. The man's thumb rubs it a few strokes and then he plunges it into Emily's slightly open mouth.
"Shh," Mr. Masterson repeats, as Emily's body convulses at this violation.
"Please," Emily whimpers, "please, please, please!" She repeats the word another dozen times, unable to bring herself to even think, much less utter, what she is pleading for.
She looks the man in front of her up and down. Mr. Masterson is wearing a robe. She groans and whimpers once again, when the man finally takes his thumb out of her mouth and begins to untie the know holding the garment together. The robe slips off and Emily finds herself staring at hard abs and black boxer-briefs. Tears blur her vision and roll down her cheeks.
She is close to hyperventilating, when Mr. Masterson reaches inside his underwear and takes out his cock. Frozen in shock, Emily watches Mr. Masterson rest his hardening member on her face. It radiates heat and she feels like her skin burns at every point of contact between the penis and her face. She tries to jerk her away, but finds it impossible as the man is restraining her head. Far more dim than the shock of seeing her friend's father's cock, the fear of the size of the organ, and the disgust she felt due to her proximity to it, Emily knows she should fight, scratch, bite, and scream, but these thoughts seem distant to the fear and paralysis that grips her even harder than the man's hands.
***
Russell stares back and his cock jerks as he notes how the girl's eyes. already wider than dinner plates, widen even more as her mind connects the dots and becomes aware of what he's planning on doing to her.
"Please! don't make me do thi-" Emily starts, but her sentence is cut off once again, as Russell slips half of his length into her mouth. The emeralds staring back at him are obscured, when the girl's eyes shut, pushing out a fresh wave of tears. The girl throws her head backwards in an attempt to extricate his cock out of her mouth, but Russell has already wrapped his fingers around the back of her head. With palms one each side of Emily's head, he arrests any attempts of backward movement.
He waits like this for moment, unmoving while holding her head in place and watching her struggle to come to terms with the foreign object in her mouth.
"Open your eyes, Emily," he says. His voice is a firm, low, commanding rumble which he would use if a child misbehaves. Instinctively, Emily pauses her struggling and shows Russell her miserable eyes. With them and with the tiny shakes of her head, the girl tries to implore Russell to stop, bringing a smile to Russell's face.
