I awoke by the sweet and velvety smell of baking. It was Christmas Eve and my mum was getting ready for the party that she and my dad were attending later in the evening. I tried to go back to sleep, but the clacking of pots and pans as well as my mother’s voice, obviously chattering in my dad’s ear while he ignored her by reading the daily newspaper was too much to disregard.
I stirred and noticed that the discomfort of a hard on was still present. Reaching over to the nightstand, I pushed the Play button on my stereo and a gentle whine of Mark Knopfler’s guitar filled the room. As if on cue, I heard heavy footsteps rushing up the stairs, and I hoped it was my mum coming to call me down for breakfast. Just as the sound of rushing feet reached my door, I heard her high-pitched yell coming from the kitchen. “Milo?” she yelled. “Come down, love and have some breakfast!” At the same time the doorknob turned and without knocking my father burst into my bedroom. I wasn’t worried, of course, but I have to admit, I felt very uncomfortable.
“Where have you been last night?” he asked without any introductory politeness of bidding me good morning. He stood in the door, meaty fingers of one hand holding onto the doorknob so tight they turned white, clearly exposing his anguish and probably anger.
“I went to a party.” I said nonchalantly, giving him the most innocent of smiles. “Why? Is something wrong?” I managed to slip a bit of concern into my voice. His love of stringent house rules prevented me from openly mocking him, as I didn’t want to alarm my mum by getting into a heavy argument.
Ignoring my question, he narrowed his eyes as if measuring my truthfulness. “When did you come back?” he asked.
I rolled my eyes as if thinking hard and retracing my steps. If I said I came home while he was still in the house, he would have known I lied and the jig would be up. It’s not like I was afraid, he couldn’t do anything to me for finding out his little secret, but I didn’t want to challenge his notoriously bad temper. “Probably after midnight, I’m not sure. Why, dad?” I asked again, my face a mask of undivided attention.
“There’s been a break in last night.” He lied smoothly, his eyes unwaveringly on me. “The student house.” He said, referring to the house across the street. “I was there checking up on the furnace, so I think I must have scared him off, but I thought you might have seen something.”
“Him?” I asked incredulously. “You saw who it was?”
“Well, no…” I caught him off guard. “I just presumed it was a man, or maybe more than one. I shouldn’t think girls would be breaking into houses in the middle of the night.” His face seemed to relax a little. “So, you haven’t seen anything, you think?”
“Well…” I dragged out the word, and with a yawn averted my eyes from the face that made me feel sick. “I don’t remember seeing anything. I wasn’t really looking, you know. I don’t even know if Emma was still up when I came home.”
At the mention of Emma’s name my dad’s eyes narrowed again and it had taken a lot of strength for me not to crack a smile.
“But all is well now, right?” I asked and plopped back down onto my pillow. As if in deep thought, my dad chewed on his lower lip, his forehead clearing after a moment.
“I suppose so. Nothing seems to have been stolen. No damage done.” He nodded and looked around the room as if searching for anything incriminating. “I’ll have to tell her to be more careful and lock the door when she’s all by herself.”
I nodded and with that my dad stepped out, closing the door behind him. I reached under the cover and squeezed my cock through my underwear, determined to do something about this spot of bother between my legs, which has deprived me of restful sleep the night before.
The door opened again and dad’s face, still plastered with suspicion poked inside the room. “Your mother is calling you to breakfast, Milosh.”
There! Milosh. He obviously didn’t believe my little story. I couldn’t care less. He was the one in trouble, not me and I decided not to feel or show any distress.
“I’ll just take a quick shower, dad. I’ll be down in a minute.” I said and he nodded again, this time leaving the room altogether. I waited for his heavy steps to thump down the stairs and remained in bed until I was certain he wouldn’t return.
A sunray poked through the shutters, tickling my eyes and I was grateful for this promise of a nice day, even though it would probably be a cold one. There were chores to be done and a party to get ready for. After all, it was almost Christmas and the best and most of the uninhibited of parties was about to happen. A Christmas bash at Brian’s was bound to be a success. Beer and whiskey were to be in abundance, so should be the array of girls. I have been torn between making a move on Linda, the geeky but very sexy girl from my art class and Penny, the new girl at college, who had been everybody’s pick this winter. I bet a lot of blokes from my college were thinking of her when wanking off, she looked that good. She was pretty and athletic, always laughing, sometimes to the point one would think her daft, but I seriously doubted that was the case. Only one way to find out, I supposed.
I jumped out of my bed and realized that the hard on had become more than a mere discomfort by now. It wasn’t quite painful, but I knew I had to do something to relieve the tension or I’d be pissy all day. I walked into the small bathroom adjacent to my bedroom and turned on the water. Stripping off the underwear and a t-shirt, I stepped inside the shower, closed the curtain and reached for the baby oil, which I kept for the particular occasions of self-pleasuring. In fact, my mum had persuaded me to use it, but of course, she suggested it to be used as a way to keep my skin soft. Like I cared at that time if my skin was baby soft or not.
I squirted a generous amount of the slick liquid onto my palm and my, by now rock hard cock, closed my eyes, and supporting myself against the shower wall with the clean hand, I began wanking off with Emma in mind. I saw her firm and perky breasts, softly bobbing like leaves in a gentle breeze. I pictured her long, thin legs and arms wrapping themselves around my body while she laid beneath me, her dark eyes half closed in ecstasy that I was certain I could bring her to had she given me half a chance. I saw her long, blond hair brushing against my skin, her lips sucking on my nipples and belly and balls, her delicate tongue licking against my belly button. I saw her riding me wildly, her mouth half open, her delicate fingers digging into my chest, her entire body shivering with an oncoming orgasm, my big hands holding onto her hips and pulling her down on me, slamming her against my cock, making her gasp just like I heard her gasping the previous night.
At the thought of Emma and my dad and their gasping, my cock began going limp almost instantly. The beautiful illusion had turned into a nightmare, it seemed. I shook my head as if trying to push the picture of the two them out.
I never let go of my cock, rubbing it softly, trying to think of something else than the events of the previous night. I tried to picture the evening ahead. Penny with her silly giggle and Linda, completely unaware of how sexy her glasses made her look; the librarian type with a hidden wild side. It worked. My cock hardened again and I wanked off as if my life depended on it. I imagined myself with Linda and then I swapped her for Penny. Fuck, why not go for the obvious and have them both at the same time? Both of them falling all over each other trying to pleasure me, while according to my instructions, messing with each other, too.
I began imagining shagging them both. Dipping my cock into one pussy and then the other. The girls begging me for more, each softly purring when I shagged them hard, the other one massaging the tits of the one shagged, or squeezing my balls, or rubbing my crack.
I blinked in frustration. Yet again I managed to make my cock go limp on me. Why on earth was I thinking of anybody rubbing my crack? I’ve never had that done to me, never desired it so. It must have been the remnants of seeing my dad enjoy a finger up his arse, and frankly I didn’t want that. Didn’t want to see that again, or experience it for myself.
Frustrated now, as I had never had a problem to simply wank in a short period of time, I reached for some more baby oil and squirted it on my cock. “Come on, mate,” I whispered. This time, when I closed my eyes, a scene that had played in front of me the night before popped into my head. Emma on her knees, my dad grabbing onto her ponytails and pulling her mouth onto his cock roughly, making her gag and her eyes water. I remembered the sounds of her trying to breathe, even her retching seemed very erotic to me at that moment.
I stroked my cock hard and fast, just like I had seen Emma’s mouth stroking my dad’s cock. I stroked in the rhythm that I saw Emma move. I felt it was wrong to wank off on the memory of the two of them together, but I couldn’t help myself. I kept jerking my cock and in my head, Emma kept sucking off my dad. The more I pictured her laboring over the task, the closer I got to cumming. The water that fell on my back from the shower felt like gentle fingers caressing my skin, adding to the pleasure.
I felt my body stiffening; I sped up the stroking, in my mind Emma was close to unconsciousness being suffocated by a cock. This time, however, I pictured my own cock inside her mouth. The picture shifted and I saw her from above, my hands were holding onto her hair, it were my butt cheeks that she was squeezing. I leaned forward (still in my mind) and to my great delight saw a small hold of a butt plug sticking out of her arse. Obviously, the array of sex toys scattered about the room had made a great impression on me.
I imagined the discomfort that she would have felt from my cock deep inside her mouth, almost in her throat; the discomfort of the big butt plug inside her arse. I wished so much that she was in front of me right now. I would have reached over and pulled on the plug a little, just enough to make her squirm and yelp, perhaps. Not much yelping could be done, though. Not with my cock in her sweet, fat-lipped mouth and then I would tell her I was cumming and make her open her eyes and look at me while I was spraying inside her, not allowing her to move away. I would make her take every single drop I had for her. She would swallow it all and I would keep my cock in her until it went limp.
I was stroking myself very hard and fast now. Despite the warmth of the water on my back I could feel the coldness of the sweat beads on my chest and forehead. I stroked and stroked, seeing Emma’s beautiful eyes stare at me, her face a mixture of alarm as she couldn’t breathe and pleasure, knowing that she was giving me the ultimate ecstasy.
“Milo?” I heard my mother’s voice, to my horror it wasn’t in the bedroom, it was closer, she must have been standing a foot or two away, on the other side of the shower curtain. Yet, I couldn’t stop. I simply couldn’t. I had to finish what I had started, already having been interrupted twice by my own thoughts that were not pleasing to my mind.
Emma’s face, the memory of her voice, my father’s grunts and my mother’s all too real voice within a reach of the shower curtain finally pushed me over the brink and for a moment the world swayed in front of me, then went blank and I felt my cock throbbing in my hand, chunks of cum spewing onto the shower wall.
I stilled myself then, breathing hard and turned my head towards the shower curtain. I couldn’t see anybody’s silhouette standing on the other side as I knew I would have had my mother been there. If I knew I could see her and she really did enter the bathroom a few moments before, then she certainly saw me wanking off in the shower.
I felt ashamed and utterly annoyed. “Fuck!” I yelled. I really wanted to just bust out of the bathroom and then my bedroom, stand on the landing and yell off the top of my lungs: ‘Can’t a person even peacefully wank off in this house?’
Of course I did none of that. It was one of those crazy moments when a person thinks they are just about to stand up in a class enveloped in silence and scream in frustration. The pressure that was building up in me since last night finally released, I felt calmer although not as of yet completely satisfied. I poked my head around the curtain and looked around. My mum was nowhere to be seen.
“Mum?” I asked quietly, but there was no response. I hoped to god that it had all been just my imagination and she didn’t catch me in an uncompromising act. I cleaned the spunk off the wall and took a quick shower, almost running down the stairs, fresh clothes thrown haphazardly on my still wet body.
“Mum?” I said when I finally entered the kitchen. She was standing in the corner pouring a cup of coffee, with my dad sitting at the breakfast table, very predictably reading his newspaper. “Mum?” I asked again and she turned around. I could see distress in her eyes. She had been in my bathroom only minutes before! Deep shame flushed through my entire body and I knew my face must have flushed beetroot red.
“Come, Milo,” she smiled gently. “Let’s have breakfast.”
With a heavy heart I sat down and accepted the plate full of toast that she had offered. I didn’t dare look into her eyes again; I was too embarrassed.
I felt a rising anger towards dad, who in some crazy sort of way was responsible for me masturbating in the shower that morning and mum walking in on me. Of course I knew she would never mention it, but then, she needn’t to. I saw her face when I first walked into the kitchen. It wasn’t disappointment, not exactly that. She was merely mortified over barging in on me and putting her own mind into a whirlpool of cacophonic thoughts.
I looked at dad and satisfyingly noted that he had been oblivious to our little exchanges of shame and discomfort.
“So, dad…” I couldn’t help myself. Why would mum and I be the only ones in distress? “What are you going to do then?” I asked, deliberately ignoring the warning stare he had given me. “Will you call the police?” He would have choked me with his bare hands if he had a chance; I could see that.
“Why on earth would you be calling the police, Peter?” asked mum as she joined us at the table.
“Oh,” I said, making myself sound surprised. The bastard just came up with the break in thing to confront me with a more appropriate question that he didn’t dare voice out loud. “Didn’t dad tell you? There’s been a break in last night.”
My mother flushed with momentary panic. “A break in? Where?”
“The student house.” I said, noting that my father had not said a word since I walked into the kitchen, appearing as if his head was just about to explode with anger.
“Good god!” my mother was genuinely alarmed by now. “Peter!”
“It’s nothing Muriel. Nothing happened, really. I was over there checking on a furnace and…”
I gave him a look of utter contempt. ‘Furnace, yes. But, you fail to elaborate which one, you bastard!’ went through my mind.
“When was that?” asked my mum and I felt sorry for her. Here she was, full of concern and anguish, while my dad tried to lie his way out of trouble, obviously unashamedly determined to pull me into it, as well.
“I couldn’t sleep last night.” He said calmly, watching me like a hawk. “So, I went over there to check on the furnace that Milo had fixed earlier. While I was there, the front door slammed, that was all. It might have just been the wind.”
Uncertain about the situation, my mum was eager to continue the conversation and reach some sort of conclusion. “But, Peter…” she began.
“It was nothing, Muriel, for god’s sake!” he bellowed out, making mum and I both jump in our seats. “Why do you always have to make such a fuss about everything? That’s why…” he nearly choked trying to think fast over how to get himself out of the predicament. “That’s why,” he repeated calmly, “I don’t tell you about little things like that, love.” He smiled at mum and although still uncertain, she seemed to accept his explanation. “No need to worry yourself over nothing, is there?”
I had been defeated.
“Besides, I had to go and see that Milosh here did a good job, didn’t I? You know how careless he can be sometimes. I just wanted to make sure the girl had heat for the night.”
I dropped my half eaten toast onto the plate. By now, I had completely lost my appetite. He didn’t just defeat me; he also kicked me in the stomach while I lay in the dust. Bastard!
“It’s all in running order now, nothing’s happened, and let’s just have breakfast in peace and quiet.” he commanded and as far as mum was concerned, that was that. He asked no more questions and I didn’t prod him anymore, either.
I forced myself to finish the breakfast, with my mother cheerfully discussing her plans for the evening and my father returning his full attention to the newspaper.
As I was leaving to go to Brian’s, dad caught up with me outside in the driveway. He grabbed my forearm and squeezed it to the point of pain.
“You do that again, you little bastard and I’ll… I’ll…”
I shook him off, got in the car and drove away. If I said another word, I knew the inevitable consequence would be for mum to find out what had been really going on in the ‘student house’ the night before. My dad and I would have gotten into a huge argument and I would have spilled the beans. I didn’t want to hurt her like that, or at least that’s what I had been telling myself ever since.
My determination to take revenge upon Emma and dad, however, only became firmer. They would both regret their actions; I was going to make sure of that.