This story is a continuation in The Lynches series, but is also written to stand on its own. You can check out The Lynches for more details on the relationship between Michelle and her father, and how they got to this point. All characters are of legal age and consenting. Enjoy!
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Michelle stirred out of the deepest sleep she can remember in recent weeks, the afterglow of an amazing dream about her father still running through her head. She had been fantasizing about being with her dad since she was a young girl, and the details of this dream seemed far more vivid than any she had ever had about him. The way he took her so roughly from behind, in the laundry room of all places, caused a bit of an urgent need between her legs, as the last vestiges of a good night's sleep disappeared. Still clinging to the remnants of those erotic details, she let her hand wander down across her belly, and her fingers dragged through the lips of her wet vagina.
What the fuck? Michelle gasped as she shot up to a sitting position in the bed. The sheet and comforter fell away from her upper body, exposing her breasts to the cool morning air, and she looked down at the matted landing strip above her clit. Michelle always slept in pajamas, especially when at her parent's house, so she was surprised to find that she had slept in the nude the prior night.
Her brain snapped into consciousness, almost as quickly as she shot up in the bed, and the feelings of shame, fear, disbelief, and satisfaction washed over her body in waves, as she realized that indeed, it wasn't a dream. Michelle sat there in shock, the middle finger of her right hand still buried halfway in her snatch, wondering what the ramifications will be for what she did, or more aptly, allowed to be done.
The more she thought about the wonderful day with her father, from the closeness on the subway ride, the unexpected events which lead to her giving him road-head, and the awesome crescendo of finally having daddy's cock inside her, the more her pussy ached for morning attention. She lay back on her pillow and continued to diddle herself, re-running the events from the evening through her head. With her left hand pulling and pinching her nipples, it didn't take Michelle long to explode in a toe-curling orgasm, her thighs clamping down around her hand as she shivered in her bed.
Mmmmm, bacon, Michelle purred to herself, hand still firmly wedged inside her vagina, as the aroma of breakfast wafted up from the kitchen. The warm feeling from cumming was quickly replaced with a cool rush of anxiety when she realized that at some point she would have to go downstairs and face her father.
And then the anxiety turned into ice-cold dread when she thought about having to face her mother too.
While sleeping with her dad was a life-long fantasy, she had no idea how to handle the overwhelming pangs of guilt at having fucked her mother's husband. Sarah Lynch was the stricter of her two parents, and she could always tell when Michelle was lying to her.
A new fantasy was running through Michelle's head now, one where she lives the rest of her life locked in her bedroom at her parent's house, never stepping foot outside the room, so she never would have to be confronted by her mom or her dad. Just as she had herself almost convinced it would work, an urgent request sent up from her bladder revealed a glaring hole in her otherwise foolproof plan.
She reluctantly slipped out of bed and walked to her dresser. She stepped into the baggy, flannel sleeping shorts, and pulled the loose matching shirt over her head. Michelle opened her door a crack and peeked out into the hall to make sure the coast was clear, like a convicted felon trying to make a break from a maximum security prison.
She scampered across the hall into the bathroom and dropped her shorts while she was squatting, her pee hitting the water below before she was fully seated. Michelle closed her eyes and opened her legs a little, as her bladder forcefully emptied itself. For some reason, taking an urgent piss after cumming was extremely pleasurable, and thanks to her experience with Tommy Benson, her junior year boyfriend at SUNY Albany, she grew to like almost everything about pee, including its pungent smell.
"Oh, sorry dear, I didn't know you were up," her mother said, standing in the open doorway with a laundry basket under her arm.
"MOM!" Michelle shrieked, instinctively snapping her legs shut, and cutting off her pee stream, "what the hell are you doing?" Looking at her mother, Michelle immediately thought of what she did with her father the night before, and her face flushed red with embarrassment.
"Oh pish-posh dear," Sarah replied to her daughter's embarrassment, "don't forget I've changed your diapers and taught you how to use tampons."
Michelle patiently waited for her mother to collect the towels and washcloths and put them in her basket, then restarted her stream as Sarah closed the door, calling behind her that breakfast was ready.
Reaching between her legs with the wad of toilet paper, Michelle realized how fast her heart was beating and was thankful that the situation masked her guilty conscience, and that she actually lived through the first interaction with her mother.
She pulled up her shorts and flushed the toilet, then stared at her reflection as she washed her hands. Michelle took a deep breath and exited the bathroom, mustering up every ounce of courage and self-control as she headed downstairs to the kitchen.
"Morning sleepy-head," John Lynch greeted his daughter, without looking up from the sports page of the Times Union. "Just reading about yesterday's game."
Michelle felt the heat rise in her face, and she knew she was blushing again at the mere mention of anything about the prior day.
"I really hoped I got to see you and your father enjoying each other's company yesterday," Sarah said with a smile, as she brought Michelle a plate of bacon and eggs.
