Chapter 1
Mary Johnson kept thinking about her hot date with Tommy as she stepped into the bathroom for a quick shower. Then, as she pulled her bra off, her thoughts suddenly turned to her father.
"No daughter of mine is going to walk around like a whore with her tits hanging out for any pervert to see," he would always say. Mary almost laughed as her tits swung pleasantly free. Any pervert! What a joke. Her own father had been sneaking looks at her for as long as she could remember.
She pulled down her pants and panties, throwing them also in the hamper. God, she loved to be naked. She loved her body and the freedom nakedness gave it. She ran her slender hands over her flesh, sighing at the feel of the smooth skin under her soft hands.
Her long blonde hair, straight and silky, hung halfway down her back and her breasts stood out proudly from some of the strands in front. Her tits were small but pert and upright, topped with cherry-red nipples. Mary ran her hands over her tits, squeezing the pliant flesh into her ribs and around in little circles. Her fingers moved across her taut belly and down to stream through her full, blonde pubic patch.
She spread the lips of her pussy, exposing the red flesh to the air and a thrill of sexual arousement shook her whole body. One finger snaked out to tickle her small love button and she sighed loudly, stopping herself short. She wondered if her mother had heard that sexual moan, so unconsciously did she exclaim. The sounds of pots being shuffled around in the kitchen convinced her she had nothing to worry about. Damn, it felt so good. Mary felt like she could masturbate or have sex for weeks on end. She often masturbated while lying alone in bed at night, but she had to be careful to be very quiet. She had learned to control the vocal excitement she felt when experiencing sex. She didn't think her parents would appreciate her sounds.
Mrs. Johnson heard the front door being opened and grimaced. I hope he's not too drunk, she thought, but the sounds of someone stumbling through the living room confirmed her worst fears.
"Is dinner ready?" the slurred voice of her husband boomed from the living room.
"In a few minutes, dear," Mrs. Johnson answered.
"Well, hurry dinner up."
Mr. Johnson headed into the second of the apartment's two bedrooms. The one bathroom was between them and a door opened on each side. He knelt at the keyhole.
Mary was reveling in the feel of the warm water on her naked body. She was well lathered from the soap and even she knew how sexy she looked. She sure felt sexy enough. She heard her father yelling loudly from the living room and knew he would soon be at the door to the bathroom. The thought both disgusted and excited her. The door rattled and she almost smiled right at him. Drunk again, huh? Any pervert, she thought. Here was a father peeping in on his own daughter taking a shower, getting his rocks off watching his teenage offspring bathing herself. Yet his puritan stance wouldn't let her go out without a bra. What a set of values he had!
Mary had often suspected her father of watching her bathe through the keyhole but was never quite sure until that day a few months ago. Her father was so drunk that he fell right into the door, knocking it open. He passed right out on the floor and her mother rushed in upon hearing the commotion. Mrs. Johnson turned white when she saw what had happened. She went to her husband tried to lift him up, crying all the while, "Oh, Mary, I'm sorry ... so sorry, honey."
Mary didn't know what her mother was getting so upset about. It didn't bother her in the least, well, outwardly anyway. She calmly threw on her bathrobe and went into her room, leaving them on the bathroom floor. They never talked about it and it was as if the incident had never happened.
And now he was at the door again. Well, if he wants a show, he'll get one, Mary decided. Let him eat his heart out. She coyly kept her back to him for a long time, feeling his hot gaze on her buttocks and smooth back. She turned sideways now and then, giving him quick, tantalizing looks at her tits, the cascading water falling over her all the while. Then, in a grand gesture, she turned. Throwing her arms above her in an innocent movement, she faced directly at the door from which he leered, exposing herself to him fully.
She couldn't hear his quick intake of breath but she knew instinctively that it had occurred. And knowing that made her feel good. God, she hated him so much and, yet, it excited the hell out of her to prance like this in front of him. It was a love/hate type of thing, this lewd, degrading show and her body tingled all over as she performed.
Mary took the soap in her hands and massaged her tits with it, letting the soft fleshy orbs roll in her hands. Her nipples came erect under the attention and she rubbed them lightly, the soap obscuring this sexual manipulation from her father's hungry gaze. She released her tits and they flopped slightly and sensuously on her chest. Mary soaped her flat belly, then let her hands fall to her pelvic mound. She pushed the soap between her legs and fluffed her pubic hairs, rubbing vigorously.
Mary was soon responding to the sexual stimulation of the contact. Her pussy was already moist from pleasure, not the bath water. She was terribly aroused and she knew she couldn't wait much longer to come. Realizing this, she turned abruptly, her back once again to her father's eyes. She bent over, spreading her asscheeks wide. Her pink, puckered asshole stretched lewdly in this position and she rubbed it with two soapy fingers, resisting the urge to have one or both of them violate her virgin bum-hole.
Her red cuntlips were a little below her fingers, glistening wetly, full, womanly, surrounded by the soft, blonde pubic hair. Bent like that, her body shielding her actions, Mary slipped her other hand down to locate her clit. She found it easily in the slimy slit and she began to roll it between her fingers. Mmmm, she stifled the moan deep in her throat. She squeezed the little button sensuously with her fingers, being careful not to move her hand too much and show her father what she was doing. To be truthful, she didn't know if she cared too much if he knew or not, but she was afraid he might try to rape her if he knew what she was doing.
Mary felt as if her body were on fire as her hands moved in front and back. To her father she was merely cleaning herself thoroughly, but she knew her orgasm was approaching rapidly. She moved her fingers up and down across her pussy, so wet, so soft, so hot. Her legs began to tremble and she took her hand from her ass and stood up. She turned on more hot water and positioned herself so that it ran right onto her pussy, the spray bouncing around her flashing finger. "Uhh," she groaned softly, the hotter stream doing the job. She moved one hand up to caress her tits and shoved two fingers from her other hand deep into her box, her back square to the watchful eyes at the door.
Her body began to quiver and Mary had to fight to remain standing. Her legs felt ready to collapse underneath her as her orgasm began to approach from deep within her loins. Her hands were moving with abandon now and her body shook uncontrollably. Faster, harder, the fingers jabbed into her. Ohh, she cried so softly. And her body quivered as the first wave hit her. Her crotch exploded in orgasm and her mind floated on air.
Tiny rivulets of cum began to seep out of her cunt and mingle with the rushing water to pour out the drain. Her body was so weak in the excitement and her fingers still moved within her pussy, now sticky with lubricant, overflowing. It felt so fucking good. Her face and chest were flushed with pleasure and her cuntlips tingled with intense delight as her orgasm abated in force. Umm, so, so good. Her body finally relaxed, satiated.
Then she remembered where she was. It seemed to her that she had been in the shower for hours of intense sexual delight but actually it was no more than ten minutes. She felt so great as she reached for the washcloth to clean her tender, pulsating cunt. That done, she rinsed herself and stepped from the tub. She dried off and went into her room.
"Mary, dinner's ready," her mother yelled from the kitchen.
"Be right there," she answered from inside her room. "Is Dad home?" she asked innocently. "Yes, dear."
I know, she thought as she pulled her jeans on. She wondered idly if he was in the bathroom washing the come from his hands. She wondered if he did jerk off or if he just watched to remember and jerk off later. That's as close as he'll ever get to her. She'll fuck and suck everyone else in the world before he gets his hands on her. She pulled her sweater over her head and walked toward the kitchen.
Mary's parents were already at the table and eating when she got there. She sat down without a word and began to eat. Her father gave her a quick furtive glance as she entered, her braless tits bouncing freely under her sweater. Go ahead and look, she thought, but you'll never touch me. Mr. Johnson grabbed his beer and downed it noisily, burping loudly when he was through. Mary's mother got up and got him another one without being asked, or told rather. They all ate in silence for a long time, each private in their thoughts. The air was wrought with tension, though, and the place smelled like a brewery, thanks to Mr. Johnson's breath and the beers he was polishing off in rapid succession. Finally, he spoke.
"Do you have a bra on?"
"What?" Mary answered.
"I said, do you ave a bra on?"
"Well, uh, no."
"Didn't I tell you to always wear one?"
"But I'm just in the house and I ... I ... have a bulky sweater on."
"I don't care," he said. "You look like a whore with your tits bouncing around." His voice was rising.
"You should know," Mary whispered under her breath. "WHAT?"
"Nothing."
"John, please," Mrs. Johnson interjected. "I want you to go into your room and put some clothes on," he said, ignoring his wife. "Why?"
"Do it or I'll do it for you," he shouted, getting up from the table and moving toward her.
"John, don't!" Mrs. Johnson pleaded.
"Stay out of this," he snarled and his wife buried her head in her arms, closing her eyes in fear. "Well," he continued, standing above his young daughter.
Mary felt the anger rising in her, making her forget her fear of the big man towering above her. I hate you so much, she thought. You can't make me do anything. She blurted out what she shouldn't have, her face flushed.
"I'll bet you would just love to take my sweater off, wouldn't you?" she shouted, staring at her father defiantly.
Mr. Johnson's eyes bugged out and his face turned red and Mary was scared to death but she wouldn't let him see that. Suddenly, his arm swung out and his hand slapped across her face before she could make a move to avoid it. The loud smack resounded through the room and the girl's mother began to cry softly, powerless in her own home. The force of the blow knocked Mary from her chair and onto the floor, where she stayed rubbing her stinging cheek.
"Who the hell do you think you're talking to?" he asked, his face glaring red with anger, the veins of his neck and temple sticking out.
Mary got herself to her feet and backed up against the sink as her father advanced upon her, his eyes glaring She didn't know what to expect next but she held her arms high in case he tried to belt her again. She thought of a million things to scream at him, a million curses. She wanted to scream every fucking curse she knew at this bastard, but the words got stuck in her throat. She felt the tears begin to well in her eyes and she hated him for making her cry and she hated herself for showing suck emotion.
He softened in triumph as the tears began to fall freely down her face. He moved to her, almost gently.
"Mary ... I...." he stammered, reaching a to her.
"Leave me alone," she whimpered, backing away from him. "Just leave me the hell alone!" She moved towards the door.
"Where do you think you're going?"
"JUST LEAVE ME ALONE!"
Mary rushed to the door and was out in a flash, rushing towards the street.
A few minutes later Tommy came to the corner and found Mary waiting. She was alone, huddled against the building.
"Mary," he called and she turned towards him, rushing into his arms. He could see that her eyes were red. "Mary, what's the matter?"
"Nothing."
"Have you been crying?"
"Tommy, please, it's nothing. Just forget it. Okay?"
"Well, I ... wish you...."
"Please! Come on," she said, taking a tight hold of his arm. "Where do you want to go?"
"Well ... my parents are out."
"I'm glad," she answered, sighing and they headed off down the street.
"Are you sure you're okay?"
"I am now," she whispered, snuggling into his body.