A big thanks to Pennlady who patiently and graciously helped me with this submission as well as Adam who took the time to read over the finished product. Hope you all enjoy and chapter 4 will be up soon!
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It had been almost a whole week since the "incident", that is how I was referring to it in my mind, and I still could not get the images out of my mind. After the initial shock wore off the lust I had felt was now making itself at home. I was even dreaming about it now. I would wake up soaking wet and horny as hell, my heart pounding and spend the rest of the day lost in dirty imagination.
I would try to not think about it or dwell on it too much. First of all it was wrong, plain wrong. And secondly, I was not meant to see that. That was their business, not mine. Yet here I was in a constant state of arousal.
In the shower as I ran my soapy hands through my hair and across my body I would think of him. Caressing my nipples to an aching hardness and teasing my clit until I was throbbing I would imagine myself on his lap, his experienced manhood thrusting into me. Within minutes I would come, clenching violently around my inadequate fingers.
Or I would think of him while I was alone in my bed, naked underneath my oversized tee shirt. I would imagine his thick, solid body next to me, whispering into my ear as he had done to Karina. His strong arms pulling me close to him, closer. My legs would spread wide yearning for his imaginary touch and again I would finger myself to a sweet, wild orgasm.
Like most normal teenagers masturbation was something I had been doing for a while. But this new fantasy was taking me to a totally different level of pleasure; this incestuous fantasy of my Uncle Kurt.
The fact that my father, Jack, looked just like him didn't help the situation either. In fact it was complicating it even more. Before, seeing him walk out of the shower with towel clinging to his waist was normal, he was my dad, after all. But the other night the quick glimpse I had gotten of his damp body exiting the steamy bathroom had ignited a sweet tingle and warmth between my thighs that crept up into the pit of my belly and snaked up to my nipples.
I was starting to look at my father differently now, all thanks to Uncle Kurt. By the end of the week he had joined Uncle Kurt in my dreams. Without my consent the thoughts would just roll in and make camp in the young, fertile fields of my now very dirty mind.
I wanted to be fucked so badly, to be taken, to be held, made into a woman. As much as I tried not to admit it, the truth was I wanted somebody like my Uncle Kurt to do it, even somebody like my father. I was seriously messed up. That was putting it mildly. I tried to keep things to myself, but I guess I didn't do a good job.
Saturday morning as we ate breakfast, my mother Emma asked, "Bree, is everything ok? You haven't been yourself lately."
My father chuckled into his coffee cup. "She's always quiet, what do you mean?" he asked without taking his eyes off of the IPOD he held in his free hand.
My mother glared in frustration at my father. "No, I mean you seem anxious about something."
I must have been a little too slow with my response and now they were both looking at me. My mother looked intense and concerned while my father was amused and curious.
They made a handsome couple. My mother was beautiful and still had a cheery, youthful glow at 36. Her wavy brown hair was cut into a chic bob around her face and she rarely wore makeup. I guess you wouldn't need to with skin like hers. Everyone always said we could pass as sisters but I didn't agree. Yes, we had the same hazel eyes and hair color, even the petite body type but my mother was refined, elegant. It was as if she had been cut from a porcelain doll mold. Me,-I was pale skinned too but in a more pasty-, get-your-white-ass-some-sun kind of way.
My father was the spitting image of Uncle Kurt, his older brother by a year, down to his buzz cut. They both had the same strong jaw line, the thick, rough hands and the naturally tan skin tone. They only differed in eye color. Where Uncle Kurt's eyes were a deep coffee brown, my fathers were hazel like mine. I could see part of why my mother had fallen for him.
She placed her cool hand on my forearm and asked, "Honey?"
"I'm ok. Sorry. End of senior year, you know. I guess I have a lot on my mind."
"Ok, well if you need to talk your, father and I are both here for you." She stood and began to clear the table.
