For those that posted positive feedback to the first part, here is the concluding chapter of this story. I hope it fulfils your expectations.
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Despite being shrouded in a burning fever, George Foley was drawn from the comfort of his sickbed by an illicit promise. Having earlier that morning overheard stepdaughter Lucy's startling telephone confession, his mind was awash with worrying thoughts. Indeed, a visual interpretation of the recent escapade between the seemingly innocent 18-year-old and his son Josh, which had culminated in a bout of mutual masturbation, had been etched indelibly upon George's brain. They were stepbrother and sister, after well.
The tragic circumstances of their upbringing, during which both their mothers died at an early age, had dictated that they had become closer than the majority of blood siblings. And together with their stepfather they had formed an unbreakable and inseparable trilogy. As a consequence, the idea of sexual relations between the pair appalled George. Yet at the same time, perversely it excited him. Hence, almost against his will, he found himself creeping towards Josh's bedroom door. Hastily discarded shoes and socks, Josh's jeans and Lucy's t-shirt and white panties littered the landing.
George's throat ached and his body pulsed painfully all over, each nerve ending on fire. On top of that, his heart thumped painfully against his ribcage and his cock throbbed uncontrollably against his pyjamas. Easing ever closer, he was forced to pass Lucy's room. A pastel parlour cluttered with cuddly toys and trinkets, with posters of boy bands and movie stars adorning the walls, it was a typical young girl's sanctuary. George's heart sank with deep regret at losing the stepdaughter he'd raised as his own from an early age to impending womanhood.
From inside Josh's room, George could make out the sound of passionate kissing, along with encouraging words spilling from Lucy's lips as if she were the driving force behind the union. All rational thought lost to the fever, George could barely contain his envy for Josh. With doubtless little more experience than his partially younger stepsister, doubtless this was every teen boy's dream: a sexy and naïve blonde bursting with hormones and horny as hell. As he edged ever closer, George pictured Josh suckling on Lucy's firm pink nipples as she threw her head back, moaning.
Then suddenly and unexpectedly George spluttered, hacking from the back of his furnace-laced throat. In the still of the house the cough echoed loudly. Thereafter things just seemed to stand still, until heightened movement in Josh's room finally broke the silence. Lucy emerged panic-stricken, wrapped hastily in her stepbrother's dressing gown. Eyes wide, she surveyed her stepfather on the landing, face buried in hands. Seizing the opportunity, deftly, she gathered up the discarded clothes before the unexpected guest had time to 'notice'.
"Daddy, what is it? What are you...what are you doing at home?" she enquired in a high pitch, cheeks flushed with a combination of desire and embarrassment.
George glanced up with a pained expression, rasping about the sickness. Acting quickly, Lucy ushered the patient back to his room. George consented, the closeness of Lucy's firm young body to his own feeling good. In his delirium, George's hand went unchecked as it slid down her spine to cup an arse cheek for support. Still in a state of arousal from earlier, his cock rubbed against the bare skin of her leg whilst the stubbly surface of his cheek brushed a nipple as he clung like a baby craving attention.
But all too quickly she let go, the bed rising to greet his wearisome body and George slumped down disconsolately. Leaning over, Lucy placed a soothing palm on his sweat covered forehead, pursing her lips into a caring smile. Unbeknown to Lucy, as she craned forward the ill-fitting dressing gown parted down the middle, exposing a pair of perfectly formed and pert pear-shaped breasts. The nipples stood erect, seemingly still attentive from earlier with Josh. George sighed wantonly, the pitch mutating to a low moan. "Oh, poor daddy," Lucy whispered, misreading the signal.
George's pained expression implored her to stay, but she uncoupled and rose to depart, turning away from the patient, eyes widening as the mirror reflected back her exposed breasts. Hastily she covered up, issuing the promise: "I'll be right back, daddy. And I'll bring you a nice hot drink."
George smiled thinly, anxious to learn of the implications of his unexpected intervention. As Lucy closed the door behind, he craned, ear as close as possible. A brief exchange of muted words took place, concluded by the order: "No, Josh, not now."
A smug smile settled upon George's ravaged features. Seconds later the stairs were heavy with footsteps, following which the front door slammed. Having railroaded the coupling, at last George was able to relax and allow sleep to enfold him.
* * *
When George awoke, a glass of hot lemon stood cooling on the bedside table. Sweating profusely, mouth fiery and dry, he climbed from the covers, resting his weary body on top, supping gratefully from the glass. Regrettably, each gulp brought a gravel-like pain. Too hot to slip back inside the covers, he opened a few buttons in the pyjama top for ventilation and lay back on top of the bed, feeling sorry for himself.
