I kissed Lacey on the lips. “Well, here we are,” I said. “Ready to meet my dad?”
Lacey shivered. “I’m a little nervous,” she said. And she certainly looked it. The pretty blonde sixteen-year-old was fidgeting with the hem of her short pink-and-yellow skirt, her plump breasts heaving beneath her pale yellow short-sleeved blouse.
“There’s no need to be,” I assured her. “He’s nothing like your dad. He’s very warm and affectionate. Sometimes almost TOO affectionate, honestly.”
“That’s nice,” said Lacey, a little wistfully. “My dad’s always been either distant or terrifying.”
“Yeah,” I agreed. “He reminds me a bit of Mr Forsyte – remember, our science teacher in seventh grade?”
“Ugh,” said Lacey, shuddering as she recalled, no doubt, some of Mr Forsyte’s unhinged rants. “He was awful. But my dad can be worse, believe it or not.”
I squeezed her hand sympathetically. “Well you’ve nothing of that sort to fear from my dad,” I said. “He’s like the complete opposite of yours. Even physically! Your dad’s tall and thin; mine’s, um, short-ish, and … well, Mum used to say he was ‘cuddly’. Your dad’s practically bald; mine has hair like Bob Ross.”
Lacey laughed. “Does he really?”
“Come on, let’s go inside and introduce you,” I said. “He’s going to love you, I promise you.”
Lacey smiled. “Okay,” she said. “I’m ready.”
I fished out my key and unlocked the front door, then I stepped inside and took Lacey’s hand as she stepped over the threshold. Spotting Dad sitting in his favourite armchair in the living room, I led my girlfriend into the room and smiled happily. “Hi Dad,” I said.
He had been dozing. With a start, he opened his eyes and looked up at me. “Hello Johnny!” he said. “Back from school already? And who’s this lovely young woman?”
“This is Lacey,” I said, glowing with pride.
“Oh, I’ve heard so much about you!” said Dad, jumping to his feet. “Welcome, Lacey, welcome! My goodness, you’re even prettier than Johnny described. Come on, give me a hug. Any friend of Johnny’s is always welcome in this house.” He pulled her into a great big bear-hug, which Lacey, looking a little startled, tentatively returned.
“I’m … I’m pleased to meet you, Mr Seaton,” said Lacey timidly, as Dad warmly stroked her back with his hands.
“Mmm, what a lovely figure you have, Lacey,” Dad murmured, closing his eyes and laying his head on Lacey’s shoulder. He had to stoop a little in order to do so, being about four inches taller than she was, but he made it work. I noticed his hands were stroking lower and lower, caressing the small of her back and then moving down over the waistband of her skirt to her skirt-covered bottom…
“Um, Dad!” I said uncomfortably. “Um … Lacey’s not just … a friend. In fact, today she agreed to … to be my girlfriend.”
“Oh my!” said Dad, looking delighted as he raised his head. He gave both of Lacey’s buttocks a squeeze. “What wonderful news! I’m so happy for you both!”
“Thank you Mr Seaton,” said Lacey, looking quite flustered.
“Any girlfriend of Johnny’s is part of our family!” my Dad continued. Then he grinned. “And new family members get a kiss!” He pressed his lips to her cheek. “Mwah! Ooh, what lovely soft skin you have, Lacey. Mwah! And look at those gorgeous sweet lips! Mmmmwah!”
Lacey looked a little shell-shocked as she recoiled from the kiss on the lips Dad had just given her. “Gosh … um … wow … Johnny said you were affectionate…”
“Yeah,” I grumbled. “A little too much so, sometimes. That’s my girlfriend you just kissed on the lips, Dad!”
He was also giving her bottom a gentle two-handed massage, which I was even less happy about, but I didn’t want to embarrass Lacey by drawing attention to it. Fortunately he let her go, and sat back down in his chair. But to my surprise and, I’m sure, to Lacey’s, he hooked a hand around her hip and pulled her on to his lap. She sat down hard on his thighs with a little squeal.
“Tell me about yourself, Lacey,” he said, putting his arms around her waist and clasping his fingers together behind her left hip.
“Oh … goodness…” said Lacey, not quite sure how to respond to this. “I … well, I’m sixteen years old, I have a younger brother, Arnie, who’s eleven … my dad’s an electrical engineer … Mom works in a clothes store. I like English and Spanish … I’m not very keen on hard sciences, but biology is sometimes fun, especially when it’s more about zoology and botany rather than the molecular, chemical kind of stuff.”
“Interesting!” said Dad, reaching up with one hand and brushing Lacey’s hair from her face. “My, you really are pretty, aren’t you! How did you and Johnny get together? I’m sure a lot of boys are interested in you.”
“Not that many,” said Lacey, blushing vividly and clearly a little nervous about the way Dad was gently stroking her cheek. “They’re usually more into the cheerleaders, like Cassidy and Harper and Abby and…”
“Oh, I can’t imagine they’re prettier than you,” said Dad, taking her chin in his hand and smiling at her. “Or that they have such wonderfully kissable lips…” He kissed her again, pressing his lips to hers, and holding her close with his left arm wrapped around her back.
“Dad!” I protested.
“Mmm … mmmph … thank you!” gasped Lacey, when she was able to tear her lips away. “That’s very kind of you, to say so. But honestly, I had my eye on Johnny as much as he had his on me. A lot of the boys are kinda jerks … I see how they treat girls at school, and the stuff they talk about with each other. But Johnny was never like that, and I really liked that about him.”
I smiled at her as I sat down on the sofa, just a couple of feet away from Dad’s armchair.
“That makes me happy!” Dad said, looking at me proudly. “Good for you, son!” Then he turned back to Lacey. “And that says a lot about you, too, Lacey. I’m glad you’re not the kind of girl who falls for jerks. Now, Johnny doesn’t kiss and tell, as I’m sure you’ll be relieved to hear … but I’m guessing he’s not the kind of boy who’ll grab your boobs as soon as he starts kissing you.”
Lacey’s eyes widened, and she glanced over at me. “Oh, no – he’s a gentleman!” she said.
“And that’s greatly to his credit!” said Dad, looking down at Lacey’s chest. “There’s not a lot of boys who could keep their hands off a lovely pair of boobs like these!” He cupped her left breast with his right hand, and gave it a gentle squeeze. “Wow – even with a bra on, that’s a first-class breast.”
“Dad!” I exclaimed, as Lacey’s eyes widened in alarm and her hands rose protectively to cover her chest.
“I know, I know,” said Dad, chuckling. “But you see what I mean, Johnny? Even I can’t keep my hands off them, so it’s very impressive that you can.” He sighed. “They’re actually quite like your mother’s.” He smiled warmly at Lacey. “I wish she could have lived to meet you, Lacey. I think you and she would have got along like a house on fire.”
“I’m sorry for your loss,” said Lacey, a little awkwardly. “Johnny’s told me a few things about her; it sounds like she was a wonderful woman.”
“She was,” said Dad, as I nodded in agreement. “It’s been three years, and still not a day goes by when I don’t think of her.” He looked at Lacey’s lips. “My goodness, though, even she didn’t have lips as kissable as yours, Lacey. I know I shouldn’t, but I hope you’ll forgive me if I have another little smooch…” He kissed my girlfriend again, as she cast her eyes anxiously in my direction. I shrugged helplessly and apologetically; Dad was inclined to be affectionate with women, sometimes inappropriately so, but even I was rather surprised at how intimate he was being with Lacey. Perhaps it was because she reminded him of Mom.
Then he cupped her left breast again, and gave it a squeeze. Lacey gasped, and suddenly the kiss seemed to become even more intimate; I realised Dad had stuck his tongue in her mouth. Lacey voiced a little squeal, and looked at me in a panic, but then her eyes rolled upward and closed.
“Dad!” I said peevishly. “Could you please take your tongue out of my girlfriend’s mouth??”
He did not respond at first; he was too deeply immersed in the kiss. And Lacey, bless her heart, was humouring him, keeping her mouth open as he explored it with his tongue, while also fondling her breast through her blouse and bra.
My patience could only take a minute or so of this, and eventually I cleared my throat noisily. Dad disengaged, looking abashed. Lacey, panting slightly with her eyes closed, gradually came to her senses and looked at me sheepishly.
“I’m so sorry about that, Lacey,” Dad apologized. “Instinct kicked in, I’m afraid – your lips are so tender and sweet, and kissing them felt like the most natural thing in the world. “But from your point of view I can only imagine how awful it must be to kiss an old man like me!”
“It wasn’t awful,” Lacey said kindly. “You’re … you’re a very good kisser, Mr Seaton.”
“Thank you!” said Dad, still gently massaging her breast. “It’s nice to know I haven’t lost my touch. Johnny’s mom enjoyed our kisses, too.”
The implication that Dad was better at kissing than me was hard to avoid. “Am I not a good kisser…?” I asked Lacey, a little forlornly.
“Oh, you’re fine,” she assured me. “It’s just … practice makes perfect.”
“Practice definitely helps,” agreed Dad. “But it also helps to have a good teacher. Watch what I do, Johnny.” And he kissed Lacey … again!
I tried to pay attention, but it was a little hard to see what was going on. All I could see was that Dad’s and Lacey’s mouths were both open, and Dad was constantly shifting his angle of contact, and the shape of his lips. I would have to ask Lacey later what he was doing with his tongue.
The kiss went on, and on, and then I noticed Dad had let go of Lacey’s breast and was slowly popping open the buttons of her blouse. I opened my mouth to object, but hesitated. I could not help feeling rather keen to see inside her blouse myself, although watching Dad expose her was not ideal…
Not ideal?? I shook myself. “Dad!” I said sternly. “What are you doing?”
He had just undone the last button, and now he pulled her blouse open, exposing her left bra-cup. He pulled away from the kiss, leaving Lacey looking very flushed and dazed. It took her several seconds to recover and open her eyes, by which time Dad was fondling her breast through just her bra.
“Gosh,” she gasped. “That was a nice kiss, Mr Seaton.” Then she looked down at her chest, and squealed, grabbing her blouse and attempting to pull it closed.
But Dad’s arm was in the way. “Leave it open for a bit,” he encouraged her. “I’m just admiring your bra. It’s so pretty! And I’m sure Johnny’s enjoying the view – aren’t you, son?”
I blushed, and cleared my throat. “It’s a very pretty bra,” I acknowledged. “But you can’t just unbutton Lacey’s blouse and expose her like that, Dad!”
“I’m sorry,” he said contritely. “I guess it was force of habit. But what’s done is done, and now that I see your chest, Lacey … that’s a beautiful breast! What I can see of it anyway. Your skin is so smooth and shapely. He brushed the upper curve of her breast, just above her bra cup, with the backs of his fingers. “That’s a world-class breast, my dear.”
“Thank you,” said Lacey awkwardly. “I grew it myself.”
Dad laughed. “Oh, you have a sense of humour, too!” he said in delight. “I can see why Johnny likes you so much.” He tugged the right-hand side of her blouse open as well, to reveal her right bra-cup. “Look, a matching set! Wow – just beautiful. Have you ever considered modelling, Lacey? As a potential future career?”
Lacey’s eyes widened. “Um … no?” she said. “I don’t think I’m skinny enough to be a model.”
“Nonsense!” said Dad with a snort. “You don’t have to be skinny to be a model. A supermodel, perhaps … but that’s because supermodels are expected to adhere to ridiculous, near-impossible standards. But regular models come in all shapes and sizes – even plus-size, which you are not, by the way. And most of them aren’t as pretty as you. Yes, you could absolutely be a model if you wanted, Lacey. But even if you didn’t want that to be your career, there’s no harm in doing a bit of modelling on the side, for some extra cash. A lot of young women do that.”
“I don’t know…” said Lacey doubtfully.
“You don’t know if you want to?” Dad inquired. “Or you don’t if you would be any good at it?”
“I don’t think I’d be any good,” said Lacey, looking down at her knees.
“Sure you would!” said Dad, smiling. “At first, naturally, you’ll lack confidence … but as with anything else, you’ll improve with practice.”
“Also I don’t know if I’d enjoy it,” Lacey added.
“You won’t know that until you try it,” said Dad. “I dare say it’s a terrible hardship, posing for photos while a cameraman tells you you’re gorgeous…”
Lacey giggled. “I think there’s probably more to it than that!”
“Yeah,” I agreed. “I think models find themselves under a lot of pressure. What if the photographer asks her to do something she’s not comfortable doing? Like showing a lot of skin?”
Lacey smiled at me gratefully.
“I’m not talking about nude modelling, Johnny!” said Dad reproachfully.
“Well, okay,” I said, “but even so – they might ask her to do underwear photos.”
“Would that be so bad?” Dad asked, smiling at Lacey. “No worse than wearing a bikini at the beach, surely?”
“I … I don’t know,” Lacey confessed. “I think I’d be embarrassed.”
“And you might well be, your first time,” said Dad. “But you can take steps to lessen the anxiety with exposing yourself like that for the first time.” He grinned. “For instance, you could start by taking off this blouse of yours. See if you can get comfortable showing your bra to just me and your boyfriend. If you can do that – and I don’t see why you shouldn’t, since we’ve both already seen your bra – then you’ll have overcome one hurdle on your path to becoming a model.”
I would be lying if I said I wasn’t at least a little excited by the idea of Lacey taking off her blouse, but it galled me to think of her doing it for my dad rather than for me. Conflicted, I said nothing, and when Lacey looked over at me, I shrugged and smiled uncertainly.
“Here,” said Dad, tugging the blouse off Lacey’s shoulders. “I’ll help you.”
I watched, transfixed, as Dad began to undress my girlfriend. Lacey looked embarrassed and reluctant, but Dad deftly pulled her left arm out of its sleeve, followed by her right.
“There!” he said, dropping her blouse on the floor next to his chair. “That wasn’t so bad, was it? And look at you, Lacey – you’re beautiful! Look at that flawless skin. You could absolutely be a bra model, at the very least! I can imagine women looking at you, looking like this, and saying “Wow, I gotta get me one of those bras!”
Lacey giggled. “You really think so, Mr Seaton?” she asked.
“Absolutely,” he said firmly. “Of course it helps that the bra fits you so well. It almost looks like it was tailored to your measurements.”
“Mom’s all about wearing the right size of bra,” said Lacey. “She used to find bras terribly uncomfortable until she went to work in a dress shop and got properly measured – she found out she’d been wearing the wrong size for years. She doesn’t want me to go through the same thing.”
“That’s awesome!” said Dad, reaching up and grasping her left breast again. “Yes, very snug fit. What is it, an E-cup?”
“F,” said Lacey, blushing. “I’m 34F.”
“Outstanding!” said Dad. “Now, how about you sit up straight, like a model, head up, shoulders back, chest out … and smile at Johnny. Johnny, why don’t you take a photo with your phone?”
Lacey looked at me anxiously, and I shook my head. “Dad, I’m sure Lacey doesn’t want me taking photos of her in her bra. Girls these days have to be careful about such things.”
“In case you share them with your friends, you mean?” asked Dad. “Surely Lacey knows you would never do such a thing?”
“Obviously I wouldn’t,” I said, for Lacey’s benefit. “But every boyfriend would say that, wouldn’t they? And yet revenge porn is a thing, and accidents happen … or maybe some jerk grabs my phone while it’s unlocked, and starts looking through my photos. Lacey is quite justified in being cautious.”
“Thanks, Johnny,” said Lacey, smiling.
“Would you let that happen, though?” asked Dad curiously. “Ever?”
“Well, no,” I conceded. “If I had any compromising photos on my phone, I’d immediately put them into a password-locked folder. And if we ever broke up, I’d delete them all immediately. It wouldn’t be right to keep them if we weren’t together. But while I know that, Lacey doesn’t.”
“She does now,” Dad pointed out. “I’m sure she knows you’re an honourable boy. But you don’t need to keep this photo at all – it’s just for demonstration purposes. After you’ve shown it to Lacey, she can watch you delete it. How does that sound, Lacey?”
“I guess…” said Lacey reluctantly.
“Excellent!” said Dad. “Go on, then, Johnny – take a photo.”
I sighed. “All right then.” I raised my phone. “Um, could you maybe remove your hand from her boob though…?”
“Oh yes!” said Dad, chuckling as he lowered his hand. “Of course. Okay, Lacey – smile!”
I took the photo, then I turned my phone around and held it out to Dad and Lacey.
“Very good!” said Dad, pleased. “You look great, Lacey! Obviously it’s not a studio-quality photo, but you’re clearly a studio-quality model!”
“It’s nice of you to say so,” said Lacey in a small voice, her head bowed and her shoulders hunched.
“Now let’s try it without the skirt,” Dad went on, having sneakily popped the hook at her hip. He then pulled down the zip, as Lacey gasped and belatedly tried to stop him. “Arms up!” said Dad, as he yanked the skirt upward, lifting Lacey’s bottom off his lap momentarily as the pleated plaid material was whisked from beneath her. A second later, Dad had the waistband up to her armpits and, with an anxious whimper, Lacey raised her arms. Dad tugged the skirt upward, over her head, and as Lacey pulled her arms back down in order to cover her white panties with her hands, he dropped the garment on top of her blouse.
“Dad!” I exclaimed, feeling both indignant and intrigued. “You can’t just pull Lacey’s clothes off without asking!”
“You’re absolutely right,” Dad agreed. “Lacey, I’m so sorry, I should have checked with you first. I assumed you’d be okay with us continuing our little experiment to get you comfortable modelling in your underwear … but I should have confirmed that. My apologies. Can you forgive me?”
Lacey nodded, her hands clasped in front of her panties, her shoulders hunched, her cheeks bright pink.
“Thank you!” said Dad. “Now let’s have a look at you.” He gently lifted her right wrist, pulling her hand away from her panties. “Why don’t you put this arm around my shoulders?” he suggested.
Lacey hesitantly did so.
“What nice legs you have!” Dad continued, looking down at her thighs. “Such an attractive shape. Curvy in all the right ways. Gorgeous skin. You were born to be an underwear model, Lacey!”
“Really?” asked Lacey shyly.
“Definitely!” said Dad, putting his hand on her right thigh and giving it a little squeeze. “Pity your bra and panties don’t match … but I don’t suppose you were expecting to do any modelling today!”
“I really wasn’t,” said Lacey ruefully.
“Doesn’t she look beautiful, Johnny?” Dad asked me.
“Yes!” I agreed fervently. “I’ve never seen Lacey in her undies before, but it was worth the wait – she’s gorgeous!”
“Awww,” said Lacey, briefly looking up from her knees to give me a bashful smile. “Thank you Johnny.”
She truly was a captivating sight. Her full round breasts beautifully filled out what I now knew to be an F-cup bra, and seeing her pretty white panties as well was an extra special treat. I felt very, very lucky that Lacey had agreed to be my girlfriend!
“Mmmm,” said Dad, grasping her chin and turning her face towards his. “Such a pretty, sexy girl! Give us another kiss, sweetheart.” And he planted his lips on hers again.
I folded my arms and grimaced as Dad plunged his tongue back into Lacey’s mouth, and I looked away – at the window, at the doorway, at a painting on the wall … anything to avoid having to watch my girlfriend making out with my dad. Then, unable to help myself, I glanced back at them. Dad had bent Lacey backward, cradling her upper back with his left arm, and he was still kissing her as if his life depended on it. Meanwhile his right hand was stroking, caressing, kneading the flesh of her right inner thigh, not very far from her panties. I kept a wary eye on that hand, prepared to jump in if it tried to misbehave. Or misbehave more, perhaps, to be more accurate. Lacey’s free hand was holding Dad’s wrist, suggesting she was well aware of what he was doing, and trying to keep him away from her panties. Good for her.
Finally, the two of them came up for air. “Oh gosh!” Lacey panted. “You could teach kissing classes, Mr Seaton!” She laughed nervously. I knew she was just trying to humour Dad, but I was concerned about him interpreting her kindness as encouragement.
“All right, all right,” I said grumpily. “Just remember whose girlfriend she is, Dad!”
“Yours, of course,” said Dad, giving me a deferential nod. “So anyway, Lacey … how are you feeling about hanging out with Johnny and me in your underwear?”
“It’s a bit embarrassing!” she confessed.
Dad nodded. “I’m sure,” he said, “but you seem to be coping very well nonetheless … and as time passes the embarrassment will fade. Soon you’ll think nothing of stripping down in front of a photographer, and posing in just a bra and panties.”
“Assuming she wants to!” I said sharply.
“Yes, naturally,” Dad agreed. “But let’s try something a bit different. A lot of models have a no-nudity clause in their contract … and photographers often have some creative ways of spicing up their photo shoots while still adhering to the no-nudity clause. Let’s assume that you, Lacey, have just such a clause in your modelling contract. It would basically state that you will not expose your nipples or your downstairs bits to the camera. Does that sound like the kind of clause you would want?”
“Yeah, I guess so,” conceded Lacey uncomfortably.
“You guess so?” Dad inquired. “So … you might be open to doing nudity?”
“No!” said Lacey hastily. “I meant … yes I’d want that kind of clause, if I had a modelling contract at all.”
“Aha – got it,” said Dad, nodding. “But that leaves some room for some creatively sexy photos. For instance … how about putting your blouse back on, but taking your bra off?”
Lacey swallowed. “Um … I guess … that would be okay…”
“Yeah, I imagined it would,” said Dad. “After all, a blouse covers more than a bra. Let’s try it, shall we?” He reached down over the arm of the chair, and grasped a corner of Lacey’s blouse. He hauled up the garment, flipping her skirt on to the floor in the process, and handed it to her. “I suggest you get your arms out of your bra first; that’ll not be as easy once your blouse is on.”
Lacey looked at me anxiously, and this time I decided to step up and be a proper supportive boyfriend. “Um, Dad, I think Lacey would rather keep her bra on,” I said, trying to sound authoritative.
Dad raised an eyebrow at me, then turned to Lacey. “But we’re making such good progress!” he said. “I know you’re a little outside your comfort zone, Lacey, but you’re really handling it remarkably well. I thought you agreed that it would be okay to model with a blouse on and no bra beneath. Didn’t you…?”
“I … I guess I did,” Lacey conceded. “Hypothetically…”
“Then let’s give it a try,” said Dad. “It’ll be good to see how you handle it, and you’ll be rather less exposed than you are right now. So … how about it?”
“Okay…” said Lacey reluctantly.
“That’s my girl,” said Dad proudly. “Uh, Johnny’s girl, I mean. All right then, let’s get your arms out of those straps.”
As Lacey raised each arm in turn, Dad helped her get her bra strap past her elbow. Having withdrawn her hands, she clasped them protectively against her bra cups, which was a good thing, because Dad now reached behind her and popped open the hooks at the back of her bra.
“There!” he said. “Now you’re prepped. Time to put that blouse on.”
Lacey had to switch to using only her left arm to keep her bra pressed against her breasts, so that she could put her right arm into the sleeve of her blouse. Dad helped her pull the sleeve up, then he reached around her to hold the left sleeve open. Lacey switched arms, and put her left arm into its sleeve. Again, Dad helped her tug her blouse into place.
“Good!” he said. “Now pull your blouse closed, and I’ll take the bra.”
Lacey looked rather anxious, but she pulled the two halves of her blouse together at the front, allowing Dad to extract her bra as she let it go. Dad smiled with satisfaction as he dropped it on top of her skirt.
“Leave it undone,” he instructed her, as she began to fasten one of the buttons. “Imagine that for this photo, your photographer wants you to let your blouse hang loose over your breasts, covering them sufficiently to honour your no-nudity clause, but teasing the audience with the idea that any small movement on your part might reveal the magic that lies beneath.”
“Sounds quite … sexy…” said Lacey with a nervous titter. “I’m not sure I know how to be sexy!”
“It doesn’t matter if you don’t know how,” Dad assured her. “Your photographer will know what looks sexy, and he’ll talk you through it. Now pose for another photo. Johnny, phone at the ready! Lacey, why don’t you grasp the two sides of your blouse, pull them apart a bit, then sit up straight, lean forward a little, arch your back, stick your chest out … and give Johnny a naughty little smile.”
“Uhhh, that’s a lot,” Lacey remarked, a little flustered as she tried to follow all of Dad’s directions at once.
“Oh I’m sorry,” said Dad, and he talked her through the pose again, this time a little more slowly.
To her credit, Lacey followed Dad’s instructions to the letter, and looked amazing as I snapped the photo. I showed it to both of them.
“Very nice!” said Dad approvingly. “Great job, Lacey. Let’s get these shoes off you, though; they don’t work with the whole shirt-and-panties vibe.”
“Her feet weren’t in the shot,” I pointed out.
“They might be in the next one though,” Dad replied. “Best to be prepared.” Reaching down, he pulled off Lacey’s shoes, one after the other, and dropped them on the floor. “Now, let’s try a new pose. Put your arms up, with your hands behind your head, and look wistfully over at the window.”
A little hesitantly, Lacey raised her arms, putting her hands behind her head and clasping her fingers together. She kept glancing down to check that her blouse was still covering her breasts … and she gasped when Dad began pulling the two sides apart.
“I’m just going to widen this gap a little,” he said. “Don’t worry, I’ll leave your nipples covered. But you gotta tease the viewers a little – let them think they’re going to see more than they actually will.”
Lacey gulped as almost half of each breast became uncovered, with her nipples barely concealed behind the edges of her blouse.
“Arch your back,” said Dad. “Chest out, head up, and looking at the window. Think about a wonderful experience from your childhood – something you know will never happen again – something or someone you miss very much and wish they were here … or that you could go back and revisit that time in your life.”
My eyes were like saucers as I stared at Lacey’s half-exposed chest. When she stuck out her chest, she inadvertently revealed a little more than she intended, and I was entranced by the sight. But as she stared into the distance with a wistful expression, I quickly raised my phone and took another photo. “That’s great!” I said. “A really good pose. But … um … I’m afraid it shows a little bit of … not the nipple exactly, but the surrounding area…”
Lacey gasped, and brought her arms down, pulling her blouse closed with her hands. I held out my phone to the two of them, and Dad nodded.
“A little bit of areola,” he said. “It’s a beautiful pose, and with a good camera, it would be an amazing photo … but your photographer would probably give you a choice, Lacey: to allow him to go ahead and publish the photo, or to retake it.”
Lacey nodded, looking very embarrassed. “I guess it’s a nice photo,” she said, “but I think I’d ask him to retake it. I wouldn’t want my parents to see even a little bit … like that.”
“That’s understandable,” Dad acknowledged. “But when you’re out in the world with a career and a life of your own to lead, you can’t always be worrying about what your parents will think.”
“I still live with them, though,” said Lacey with a shudder. “And my dad … he’s…”
“A bit of a tyrant?” Dad asked.
“A bit,” Lacey agreed. “When he’s not completely ignoring me.”
“Oh, that’s so tragic!” said Dad, dismayed. “If you were my daughter, I’d treat you like I’ve always treated Johnny – or tried to. Celebrating your successes, encouraging you in all your interests and endeavours, being present and engaged whenever you need support, taking care of you when you’re sick, or sad … heck, a son or daughter is a precious thing! You don’t just ignore them – or treat them like servants or property or … or however your dad treats you.” He sighed. “I’m sorry to rant – I just get a little upset when I see parents treating their kids badly.”
Lacey smiled at him, and then she put her arms around him and hugged him. “If Johnny and I stay together,” she said, “which I hope we do … you’ll get a chance to be a dad to me, kind of.”
Dad brightened. “That would be awesome!” he said, smiling happily. “I’d love that.” And he gave her another kiss … and I scowled at the sight of them tongue-wrestling yet again. Dad bent her backward over his arm, cradling her, and then he slipped his hand beneath her blouse … and took hold of her bare left breast! My jaw dropped in outrage.
Lacey uttered a muffled squeal, but although she grabbed hold of Dad’s wrist, he continued squeezing and massaging her breast, while the left side of her blouse fell away, uncovering his hand. I wished he would take his hand away – mainly because I wanted him to stop groping my girlfriend, but also because I really wanted to see her naked breast!
But it was not to be. Dad pulled her upright, disengaged from the kiss, and let go of her breast … just as she grabbed the left side of her blouse and pulled it across her chest. Her cheeks were flushed and she was breathing heavily.
“Dad, you fondled her boob!” I said reproachfully.
“Yes, and it was wonderful!” Dad enthused. “Johnny, wait till you get your own hands on them – you’re going to love them! Honestly, Lacey, your breasts are absolutely perfect. A divine combination of firmness, softness, suppleness, and shapeliness. My hand felt like it had gone to heaven!”
“Th…thank you Mr Seaton,” said Lacey quietly, hugging her stomach.
“But when do I get to touch them?” I demanded, rather petulantly.
“Patience, son!” said Dad soothingly. “I’m sure Lacey will let you fondle her gorgeous breasts when the time is right for you both. There’s no need to rush it; you’ll have plenty of time.”
I subsided into a grumpy silence.
“All right, let’s move on,” said Dad. “You’ll find, Lacey, that photographers will often try to get the sexiest shots possible, while still adhering to whatever clauses are in your contract. You might find yourself in some quite erotic poses, and you’re going to have to get comfortable with that if you don’t want to be blacklisted. No photographer wants to carefully read through a contract, come up with a photo shoot idea that works within the limits of the requirement clauses, and then be told at the last minute that there are other things you won’t do, that aren’t listed in the contract. Make your contract as watertight as possible, by all means … but be prepared for the photographer to find loopholes.”
Lacey’s brow furrowed in bemusement. “Loopholes?” she asked.
Dad nodded. “Let me show you what I mean,” he said. “Lean back against my arm, then raise your knees up, and put your feet on my thigh.”
With obvious trepidation, Lacey did as Dad suggested. Leaning back with her feet on his lap and her arms folded across her middle, she looked up at him uncertainly.
“Now spread your knees apart,” he said softly. “Give Johnny a nice sexy view of your panties.”
Lacey’s eyes widened. “Um, that’s a bit much!” she said anxiously. “I wouldn’t want a photographer taking that kind of photo!”
“Why not?” asked Dad with a smile. “There’s still no nudity.”
“Yes, but it’s … it’s a kind of indecent pose!” said Lacey.
“That doesn’t matter,” said Dad. “You won’t get to second-guess the photographer’s choices, particularly as a new and inexperienced model. You’ll have to trust in their vision, and adopt whatever pose they suggest. As long as it doesn’t go against your contract, you’re in their hands. At best, afterwards, if you are given a chance to review the photos, you can say ‘I’m not comfortable with this one,’ but ultimately it’ll be the photographer’s choice. The point is, during the photoshoot, you’ll have to just follow directions, even if it’s uncomfortable or embarrassing … and this will be good practice for you.”
Lacey squirmed a little. “I … I’m afraid my panties will look a bit … damp…” she confessed, looking mortified.
“That’s perfectly understandable, and normal,” said Dad, completely unfazed. “A lot of kissing will have that effect. But remember, this isn’t a real photoshoot with a real photographer – and Johnny will delete all these photos afterwards. A wet spot on your panties isn’t a big deal, in this situation. But if you’re genuinely too embarrassed to let Johnny see that, then by all means reach down and cover the wet spot with your hand. It’ll still be a sexy photo – a very nice tease.”
“Okay.” Looking grateful, Lacey reached between her thighs with her left hand, and then she spread her knees apart. She did look extremely sexy, I had to admit.
“Lacey, you look beautiful,” I said, in a rather low and husky voice. “I feel … kind of … honoured, to see you like this.”
She seemed to relax a little. “Thank you,” she said. “This is a bit of an embarrassing position to be in, but I’m glad you think I look good.”
“Now breathe in!” said Dad. “Flatten that belly. Tilt your head to one side, and give the camera a mischievous smile.”
I took the photo, and held out my phone as Lacey closed her thighs, put her feet down, and sat up, clutching her blouse to make sure it stayed closed.
“Very sexy!” said Dad. “Obviously inappropriate for a classy fashion publication, but if you were modelling for a magazine aimed at young men’s interests, like sports or tech gadgets, that sort of photo wouldn’t be out of place.”
“I think I’d prefer to do the fashion modelling!” said Lacey.
“I’m sure you would,” said Dad, “but in the highly competitive world of modelling, beggars can’t always be choosers … especially for a model who’s just starting out. You might have to take the less classy jobs at first, until you make a name for yourself.”
“I guess,” said Lacey reluctantly.
“Or you can just do something other than modelling!” I interjected, a little impatiently. “There’s no need for you to get a job where you have to take your clothes off!”
“Of course!” said Dad. “That’s a given. But this is just a ‘what if?’ kind of experiment, to see if modelling is even an option for Lacey. And so far, I’d say, it absolutely is. And if that’s the case, don’t go pouring cold water on the idea, Johnny! For all its downsides, modelling can be an extremely rewarding and lucrative career. Lots of travel, parties, rubbing shoulders with celebrities … don’t we owe it to Lacey to help her explore the option, at least? Ultimately it’s her decision whether or not she follows up on it.”
“I guess so,” I conceded.
“Now,” said Dad, “of course, clothes aren’t the only things that can cover your nudity, Lacey. Your hands will suffice for your breasts, for example. Let’s take off the blouse, and you can cover your nipples with your hands, for the next photo.”
My loins stirred, but I was still annoyed at Dad. “You don’t need to take your top off, Lacey,” I muttered.
Lacey was looking alarmed. “I … I’d rather keep it on,” she said.
“I’m sure you would,” said Dad smoothly. “And you felt the same way about your bra, didn’t you? But you got through that just fine, and you’ll get through this equally well. And you won’t be showing anything new, if you keep your hands firmly pressed to your breasts. It’ll be a cheeky photo, certainly … but ultimately just another tease. We’re still abiding by the terms of your hypothetical no-nudity clause. Now what I suggest is that you put your left hand under your blouse and cover your right breast … yup, that’s good … and we’ll just slip this off your shoulder … down your arm … elbow out, there we go … and off! Perfect. Now same with your other arm. Cover your left breast … keep your arm there, good … now you can let go with your left hand. And off comes the blouse … terrific! You did it. That wasn’t so hard, was it?” He dropped her blouse on top of her other clothes.
I had watched all this with wide unblinking eyes, hoping for a glimpse of nipple … but Lacey had been far too careful for that. Now she slid her left hand up beneath her right arm to cup her right breast, so that her wrists were crossed in front of her sternum. She looked very anxious and vulnerable, sitting on Dad’s lap in nothing but her white panties.
“Are you okay, Lacey?” I asked her awkwardly. She did not look okay.
“I’m kinda nervous,” she said.
“And you look it!” agreed Dad. “Which is no good at all. Sit up straight, hold your head high, and give Johnny a dazzling smile. Confidence is just a state of mind, and one which is absolutely within your control. Acting confident is two thirds of the way to being confident. ‘Fake it till you make it,’ as they say. I’m sure any successful model will tell you that they went through exactly what you’re going through now … but they pushed through it. And so can you. The difference is that most of them probably had to do it under great pressure on an actual modelling gig, rather than an in a casual practice session with their boyfriend and his dad. In that regard, I’d say you’re quite lucky!”
Lacey followed Dad’s instructions, and managed a pretty good smile, which I captured on my phone. “Very nice!” said Dad when I showed it to him and Lacey. “Now let’s try it with just one arm covering your breasts, and the other hand behind your neck.” Lacey looked a little uncertain about this, so Dad demonstrated. “Like this!”
Lacey carefully withdrew her right hand, pressing her left arm against her left breast to keep it covered. Then she reached back and tucked her right hand behind her neck, raising her elbow high and staring off into the distance with a yearning expression. It looked pretty good; I took a photo, and showed it to them.
“Nice!” said Dad. “Now, Lacey, put both hands on your breasts again … but this time without your arms crossed. Right hand on right breast, left hand on left.”
Frustratingly, Lacey achieved this without much difficulty, and without revealing either nipple.
“Good!” said Dad. “But can you splay your fingers a bit? And give Johnny a saucy grin … like you’re enjoying giving your breasts a nice grope.”
“That’s a bit naughty!” Lacey remarked. “I certainly wouldn’t want a photo like that to be published.”
“Never say never!” said Dad playfully. “But of course that’s entirely up to you. For now, it’s just a bit of fun, and of course you can watch Johnny delete the photo once we’re done.”
Lacey’s smile was more timid than saucy, but Dad was more concerned with where Lacey was looking. “Ah,” he said, when he saw the photo. “My mistake. I told you to smile at Johnny, when I should have told you to smile at his phone. First rule of modelling, Lacey: never look at the photographer! Always at the camera … unless you’re directed to look elsewhere for effect.”
“Sorry, I wasn’t thinking,” Lacey apologised. Why was she apologising?
“No need to apologise!” said Dad. “As I said, it was my mistake. You’re new; you can’t be expected to know these things. Trust me, Lacey, you’re doing brilliantly.”
Lacey smiled at him, and at this point I had something of a revelation. Despite her obvious nervousness and embarrassment, Lacey was, on some level, actually enjoying herself. And I thought I understood why. Her own father had never spent this kind of time with her: talking her up, complimenting her, encouraging her, guiding her, being affectionate with her. And, no doubt, he would absolutely never permit her to take off her clothes in front of a camera. For Lacey, this whole experience was probably very new, liberating, exciting, and affirming. And Dad was a wonderfully different kind of father figure.
“Now,” said Dad, “pull your feet up on to my thigh, like you did before, and lean back against my arm.” Once Lacey had done this, he continued, “Okay, now move your feet further apart … and now spread your knees wide.”
Lacey froze. “But … my panties…” she said uncomfortably. “The … wet spot…”
“Don’t worry,” said Dad, slipping his hand between her thighs. “I’ll cover it for you.” Then, as she reluctantly parted her knees (with a little help from Dad’s hand pushing her thighs apart), he placed his hand on her panties, curling his fingers downward to follow the curve of her pussy.
She gasped. “Mr Seaton!” she said.
“Dad!” I protested.
“I know it’s a bit of an intimate place for my hand to be,” Dad acknowledged, “but at least I’m covering the wet spot. Come on, get those knees nice and wide apart. That’s it. My goodness, you ARE wet, aren’t you!”
Lacey whimpered in embarrassment.
“Oh hush, it’s nothing to be ashamed of,” said Dad, his fingers firmly pressed between her legs. “Just a natural result of how your body works. Now give Johnny a nice … sorry, give his phone a nice smile – like you’re in your favourite place and you’re about to do something really fun.”
I took the photo. Lacey looked good, as usual, but the photo was rather ruined, for me, by the fact that Dad had his hand on my girlfriend’s pussy! I, her boyfriend, hadn’t got remotely this far with her. I hadn’t even touched her bare breasts, which Dad had also now done.
I clenched my teeth as I held out the phone. “Fantastic!” said Dad happily. “Well done Lacey – you look great, and you’re so brave for getting this far! I’m proud of you. Come on, give me a kiss.” And he bent over her, planted his lips on hers, and stuck his tongue in her mouth. As I watched them kissing, a scowl on my face, I couldn’t help noticing that Dad’s hand was slowly rubbing Lacey’s pussy through her panties – back and forth at first, and then making slow circles. Lacey, uttering a muffled moan of protest, squeezed her thighs together … but Dad did not stop, and after a few moments Lacey relaxed her thighs and let them drift apart again. Dad’s rubbing became a little faster and firmer, and Lacey moaned again … and again, and again. I was feeling a strong urge to jump off the sofa, pull the two of them apart, and yell at Dad … but I had a feeling that would traumatise Lacey. Nevertheless, my blood was practically boiling when the two of them finally pulled apart.
“Mmmm, that was nice!” said Dad cheerfully.
Lacey was panting hard and her cheeks were very flushed; in fact there was a distinct rosy glow to much of her upper body. “Goodness…” was all she could manage to say.
Dad chuckled. “Dear me, your panties are soaking!” he remarked. “I think it’s time they came off.”
Lacey squealed, and clamped her thighs together upon his hand. “Then I’ll be naked!” she objected in a frantic whisper.
Dad slid his arm deeper between her thighs, curling his hand beneath her until he could grab the waistband at the back of her panties. “Yes!” he said. “Technically. But we’re still honouring your no-nudity clause, so don’t worry about what you’ll be showing. Can you cover your breasts with just one arm again? Then you can use one hand to cover your pussy.” With that, he began pulling on the waistband, so that it slid down and around her buttocks, until the material was no longer sandwiched between her bottom and his thigh.
Lacey hastily slid her left hand across her chest to cover her right breast, then she plunged her right hand between her legs, just as Dad began pulling her panties up her raised thighs toward her knees.
“Dad, I can’t believe you’re getting my girlfriend naked!” I exclaimed plaintively. But my objection was a little late, and I knew it.
“Your turn will come, Johnny, don’t worry,” Dad assured me, as he whisked the flimsy white garment past her ankles and feet. He dropped it on to the growing pile of Lacey’s clothes on the floor, then he smiled down at her. “Lacey, you’re a beautiful woman with a beautiful body,” he said. “I’m sure you could do anything you put your mind to, in your adult life, but modelling would certainly be a good option for you. You’re a photographer’s dream. Every part of you is gorgeous, from your pretty face to your dainty feet.”
“Th…thank you Mr Seaton,” Lacey said breathlessly.
“Now spread those pretty knees apart,” said Dad, “and show Johnny your shapely thighs again.”
Hesitantly, but spurred on by Dad’s encouraging smile and, perhaps, by my wide-eyed look of anticipation … Lacey spread her thighs apart.
Dad licked his lips. “Wider,” he said softly. “Wider still.”
“This feels so indecent!” Lacey fretted. “Whatever would my dad think?”
“He’s not here, he won’t know, and he doesn’t own you,” Dad said firmly. “Here in this house, you’re free to be as indecent as you like without consequence. You know Johnny’s a nice boy and would never tell stories about you, and he’ll delete any and all photos he takes of you today. So don’t worry about a thing. You’re completely safe here.”
Lacey visibly relaxed. “That’s nice to know,” she said, and she spread her thighs even wider apart. “Actually this is kinda fun,” she confessed with a giggle.
I took another photo. Her hand and wrist were comprehensively covering her pussy and anus, both of which would have been clearly visible otherwise, but even so, it was a very erotic photo and my cock was hard as a rock inside my underwear.
“Okay,” said Dad. “Let’s do a side view next. Lacey, I’m just going to turn you, okay? Keep everything covered.”
“Um … okay,” she said.
Her bottom had by now slipped off Dad’s left thigh and was nestling between his thighs instead. When he pivoted her torso, her back swung around to lie along the length of both his thighs, while her bottom came to rest against his rotund belly. Her head and shoulders were past his knees, however, and unsupported. “Hmm,” he said. “You’d better sit up, I guess. You can straddle me with your legs – just put your feet on the arms of the chair.” He slipped his hands beneath her shoulders, and as he slowly pulled her upright, she set her feet down on the padded arms of his armchair.
He looked down, and grinned. “I think perhaps you don’t need a hand down there to cover you now,” he remarked. “Why don’t you put your arms around my neck, instead?”
“But my … my breasts,” said Lacey.
“Don’t worry – I’ll cover them,” said Dad, and he slipped his hands beneath her hand and arm, grasping her breasts as her eyes widened in shock.
“Dad!” I said in a pained voice. “Now it looks like you’re a couple!”
“It’s just a pose,” Dad assured me. “Sometimes posing with a partner involves a little roleplay. Hands around my neck, Lacey.”
Reluctantly, Lacey withdrew one hand from between her legs, and the other from her breasts, and put them both around the back of Dad’s neck. This brought her face a little closer to his, and my stomach lurched to see the two of them staring into each other’s eyes. She looked nervous; he looked eager.
“This would be a good photo, I think!” said Dad. “Smile at me, Lacey.”
I took the photo, feeling morose. What wouldn’t I haven given to be in Dad’s shoes right now?!? Why did I have to be the photographer? I sighed.
“Now let’s do one without my hands here,” said Dad.
“What?” asked Lacey.
“Don’t worry!” he said. “I want you to lower your arms – this time put them around my back. Your arms will hide your breasts from Johnny’s phone.”
“But not from you!” she pointed out.
“True!” he replied with a smile. “But I’ve already felt them; does it really matter if I see them? The no-nudity clause only applies to the photos, after all. It doesn’t mean the photographer or modelling partners won’t ever get to see your breasts, on occasion. Sometimes it might be by accident; other times it’s unavoidable due to the nature of the shot. The important thing is that the photos themselves don’t show anything you don’t want them to show.”
Lacey brought her hands down from his neck and put them around his back, then gasped a little as Dad took his hands away from her breasts.
“Wow,” he said, looking down at them. “The most perfect breasts I’ve ever seen. It’s a little weird, complimenting women on things they have no control over, but perhaps you might find it reassuring to hear that your breasts are truly beautiful.”
Lacey blushed. “Thank you,” she said.
I was feeling very peevish. I couldn’t see her breasts! They were hidden behind her left arm. If I stood up I would no doubt be able to see them, but I felt sure I would get a reprimand – possibly from both of them – if I tried that.
I took a photo.
“You’re doing so well!” said Dad, smiling at Lacey. “You’re so brave and beautiful. Let me kiss you again.”
They kissed, and I folded my arms huffily. Then Dad raised his right arm over Lacey’s left, and brought it down in front of him, turning his hand palm-side up and then slipping it down between his belly and her pussy. Lacey gasped, and pulled away from the kiss long enough to say, “Mr Seaton!” But with his left hand he pulled her head back against his, and the kiss resumed. But this time he was rubbing her pussy, and she was moaning with obvious pleasure, and undulating her hips, her eyes closed and her skin flushed with arousal.
Eventually she managed to escape the kiss by turning her head. “Mr Seaton, you shouldn’t be touching me like that…” she panted, but her eyes were closed and she was still grinding her hips against him.
“Yes, you really shouldn’t, Dad!” I agreed.
Dad chuckled, and pulled his hand away from Lacey’s pussy. For a microsecond I thought I was about to catch a glimpse of Lacey’s nipple, as his arm dislodged hers. But she covered herself quickly, with both hands, and I ground my teeth in annoyance. Why was it okay for Dad to see her breasts, but not me?
“Lacey, my dear,” said Dad, “I hate to ask this, but I’m afraid my cock is in some pain right now.”
“Oh!” said Lacey, turning crimson.
“It’s very hard, and trying to stand up straight,” Dad continued, “but because it’s confined in my pants, it can’t move anywhere. I fear if I don’t free it soon, I’ll do myself an injury. Would you mind very much if I … take it out…?”
“Oh … goodness!” said Lacey. “Um … do you need to go somewhere … private?”
“No need for that,” said Dad cheerfully. “It would be hypocritical of me to get all shy when you’re being so bravely naked. Unless … it would offend your delicate sensibilities…?”
“Of course it’ll offend her!” I cut in angrily. “She’s … she’s a virgin, Dad! She’s not even seen MY cock! The sight of yours will probably traumatise her!”
“I … I don’t know about that…” said Lacey doubtfully.
“Johnny, this is the internet age,” said Dad, looking amused. “I’m sure Lacey knows what a penis looks like. I’m not asking her to touch it or suck on it or anything. I just want to pull it out so it can breathe. She can just ignore it. But if, as you suggest, she’s going to be upset by it, then I’ll just keep it tucked away and endure the discomfort as best I can.”
“You … you can take it out,” said Lacey, looking down at her left elbow. “I don’t mind. I won’t be traumatised.”
“Good girl,” said Dad happily. “Scoot back a few inches, then.”
Lacey hesitated, then she moved her right arm to cover both breasts, and tucked her left hand between her legs to cover her pussy. Then she wiggled herself backwards, giving Dad room to access his zipper. Then she watched, wide-eyed, as he unzipped himself, rummaged around inside, and pulled out his thick hard rod of a cock. I was revolted to see it, but I could not help noticing it was about the same size as my own.
“Thank you!” said Dad in relief. “That’s better. Now scoot forward again, dear.”
“Um, what?” said Lacey.
“I don’t want it showing up in the photos,” Dad explained. “Just sit on it. It won’t do you any harm, I promise you, and there’s no danger of it getting you pregnant – unless, you know, it goes inside you. But I’m sure you can avoid that happening, right?”
Lacey gingerly shuffled forward, until her pussy came in contact with my dad’s cock.
“There you go,” said Dad, taking a deep breath and smiling beatifically. “A little further … yes, that’s it. Now take your feet off the arms of this chair, and wrap them around my back. There you go – and put your arms around my neck again.”
“But … my breasts…” said Lacey nervously.
“Snuggle up to me,” said Dad. “Your breasts will be against my chest – don’t worry, Johnny won’t see your nipples.”
I shuddered to see my naked girlfriend embrace my dad as if they were lovers. Then Dad kissed her again, and after they had spent a minute or so swapping saliva, I saw him tuck his hand between her legs again. She began moaning as he rubbed her pussy, and I scowled in annoyance and frustration. Then she suddenly squealed and pulled back, looking startled. “Mr Seaton!”
“Doesn’t it feel good?” he asked her impishly, while his arm shook rhythmically.
Her eyes rolled upward, then closed, and her head tilted back, and her heavy breathing turned into panting. “Mr Seaton…” she gasped.
I guessed what he had done, and it made me feel sick to my stomach. My dad was currently finger-fucking my girlfriend! I could hardly believe it … except that it was happening right in front of my eyes. And yet, somehow, I had not yet even seen her breasts! And I was the boyfriend! I folded my arms, hunched my shoulders, and waited for them to stop.
But they showed no sign of stopping. Dad was now kissing her neck, his left arm around her, practically lifting her, while his right hand continued to work rhythmically between her legs. Then the rhythm paused, his hand made some kind of unseen adjustment, and then he put his arm around her and pulled her down hard on to his lap.
Lacey’s eyes snapped open as she squealed in horror. “Mr Seaton!” she exclaimed. “What have you done!”
He grinned, and began thrusting his hips. “It was the inevitable next step,” he said.
I jumped to my feet. “Dad!” I cried out in anguish. “Tell me you didn’t…”
“But I’m a virgin!” Lacey wailed.
“Not any more,” Dad said apologetically, as he held Lacey in place while jerking his hips with the same rhythm as he had previously been thrusting his fingers.
“Aaahhh!” Lacey gasped, and her eyes closed again. “Mr Seaton, you’re a bad man…”
“Yes he is!” I agreed hotly. “Stop it, Dad!”
“Oh, this feels so good!” Dad groaned, fucking my girlfriend with a level of energy and stamina that surprised me. “I don’t want to stop, sorry.”
“Uhhhh …. ohhhh!!” moaned Lacey, holding on to Dad’s shoulders. “Just don’t … cum inside…”
Dad did not reply, but he reached down and began rubbing her pussy with his hand while continuing to thrust his hips. The effect of this on Lacey was remarkable.
“AHHHHH … AHHHHH … AAAHHHH!!” she cried, throwing her head back and shuddering uncontrollably.
Dad stiffened, and then he jerked his hips, once … twice … three times. Bowing his head, he exhaled heavily, as Lacey’s head collapsed on to his shoulder.
“Well that’s just great!” I exclaimed, throwing up my hands in despair. “My dad just had sex with my girlfriend! And you did cum inside her, didn’t you Dad?”
“I’m afraid so,” Dad acknowledged regretfully.
“Oh no!” Lacey groaned into his shoulder. “I’m pretty sure this is a dangerous time of the month for me. I just know I’m going to get pregnant! What am I going to do? My Dad’ll kick me out of the house when he finds out!”
“We’ll get you a morning-after pill,” I said quickly. “I can run down to the pharmacy…”
“They don’t stock it anymore,” said Dad. “Don’t you read the news? They caved to Republican pressure. You can’t get Plan B anywhere in this state now, or many others for that matter. You could try crossing a few states, but by the time you get back, it’ll be too late. And as for trying to get an abortion…”
“Then what are we going to do?” I demanded.
“Would your dad really kick you out?” Dad inquired.
“Yes!” said Lacey desperately.
“Then you’ll come and live with us,” said Dad. “If you want to. It’s up to you, of course. But if you do, we’ll look after you throughout your pregnancy, pay for all your treatment, and then help you look after your … our baby. You need never worry about having to live on the streets, ever. You’ll be part of our family.”
Lacey raised her head, and looked at him hopefully. “Really?” she asked.
“Yes,” said Dad firmly.
Lacey now looked over at me. “And what about … um … whose girlfriend would I be…? I’m sorry – I’m just a little confused.”
I was feeling conflicted. On the one hand, I was delighted at the idea of my girlfriend moving in with us … but on the other, if it happened, it would mean she was pregnant with my dad’s baby.
“I’m not sure,” I said, rather stiffly. “Whose girlfriend would you want to be?”
“What a silly question!” said Dad in amusement. “She’s your girlfriend, Johnny! And she’ll remain so, as long as that’s what you both want. Can you imagine what people would say if I started going out with a sixteen-year-old? Dear me, no. The two of you should stay together – and, I would suggest, get married before the baby comes.”
My spirits lifted somewhat. “I … I’d like that,” I said. I could handle Lacey having my dad’s baby, I decided, if we could pass it off as ours. “If that’s what you want, Lacey.”
“I think I’d like that very much,” said Lacey shyly.
Dad smiled happily. “Then that’s settled,” he said. “And Lacey … I’d be thrilled if you could call me … Daddy.”
Lacey blushed. “Okay … Daddy,” she said. Then she bit her lip. “Now I’m almost afraid of finding out I’m not pregnant. I … I really would love to move in with you both.”
Dad smiled. “Then let’s make sure it happens,” he said. “Come here after school each day, and I’ll fuck you senseless and fill you with my cum. Soon enough you’ll be pregnant, and then you can break the news to your parents.”
“Hey, what about me?” I demanded. “I’m her boyfriend; it should be me that’s … fucking her senseless.”
Dad chuckled. “Patience, Johnny,” he said. “Your time will come. For now though I think you’re a little young to be having sex.”
“I’m older than Lacey!” I protested. “By three months!”
“Yes but girls mature faster than boys,” said Dad calmly. “Lacey was ready for sex; you’re not, just yet. But soon! Tell you what: why not wait until your wedding night? That’ll make it more special.”
“Ugh!” I said. I was not happy about this idea, but I did not need to fight it right now. If I could just get Lacey alone, with Dad out of the way, maybe I could get into her panties…
“Actually,” said Dad thoughtfully, “you perhaps needn’t wait for confirmation of your pregnancy, Lacey. What if you make the confession to your parents today?”
“Then they’ll kick me out today!” said Lacey with a shudder. “At least, Dad will, and Mom will go along with it, like she does with everything.”
“You’re certain of that?” asked Dad.
Lacey nodded. “Absolutely,” she said. “Dad’s always been very clear on the subject. If I disgrace him in any way, I’m on my own.”
“It’ll be a frightening experience, I imagine,” Dad mused. “Traumatic. Are you sure you can do it?”
Lacey hesitated, then nodded. “I want to,” she said. “I hate it at home.”
“We’ll come with you, for moral support,” said Dad. “Johnny will take the blame for getting you pregnant, of course … are you okay with that, Johnny?”
I nodded. “Yes,” I said.
“We’ll help you pack whatever you want to bring with you,” Dad went on. “Then we’ll come back here, and you can start your new life with us.”
“Where will she sleep?” I inquired. “We can convert the spare room, but not before tonight!”
“Oh, Lacey will sleep in my bed,” said Dad matter-of-factly. “It’s a queen – plenty of room for two. And since we’ll be having sex every night, at least until Lacey gets pregnant, it just makes practical sense. Are you okay with that, Lacey?”
“Yes, Daddy,” said Lacey, after barely a moment’s hesitation. In fact, the idea seemed to excite her.
I was not happy about this; not happy at all. What was the point in having a girlfriend if the only person she was sleeping with was my dad? “Can I … can I at least see your boobs, Lacey?” I asked desperately.
Lacey smiled at me fondly, and Dad chuckled. “All in good time, Johnny,” he said. “Wait until the two of you have some quality intimate time together. For now, though, perhaps you could leave the room so Lacey can get dressed?”
I sighed. “Fine,” I grumbled, and I got to my feet, then trudged out of the room.
Ten minutes later, we set off in Dad’s car, and drove to Lacey’s house. The ensuing encounter with her parents was surprisingly short, though explosive. When Lacey made her tearful confession – a wonderful bit of acting – her father rounded on me like an enraged rhinoceros, grabbing my shoulders and threatening to kill me. Dad quickly intervened, separating us and offering to pay child support. Lacey then jumped in, promising not to get an abortion … but her father was beyond furious by this point. He yelled at her to get out of his house, and never come back. Dad made a show of asking him to see reason, but his words fell on deaf ears.
Lacey quietly said she would go and pack, and her mother quickly followed her out of the room. Mr Evans then ordered Dad and me out of his house, and we complied. The next few minutes, waiting in the car, were nerve-wracking. But then Lacey appeared, struggling with three large bags, and Dad and I jumped out and helped her to put them in the back. Then we drove home.
There was a lot of legal and logistical stuff to sort out, of course: the school, healthcare, guardianship, and so on. But Lacey loved living with us. Dad talked her into dressing very skimpily around the house, and he kissed and groped her whenever he got a chance. At night she slept with him, and I put on noise-cancelling headphones to blot out the sounds of them having loud and energetic sex.
All I got to do with Lacey was kiss her and hold her hand. Sometimes she would let me feel her breasts through her clothes, but that was as far as I could get. She said she wanted a ‘different kind of relationship’ from the one she had with Dad. Which meant, unfortunately, that while I had to watch helplessly as Dad shoved his hand into her panties and fingered her during a movie, for example, I was not allowed to do anything like that myself. It was very frustrating.
It was not long before Lacey announced to us that she was, in fact, pregnant. I hoped that this would mean she no longer needed to sleep with Dad, but to my disappointment, neither of them seemed in a hurry to change the sleeping arrangements.
As Lacey and I made plans for our wedding, which unfortunately for logistical reasons was going to have to be in the ninth month of her pregnancy, I tried to content myself with the thought that at least, on our wedding night and during our honeymoon, I would have Lacey to myself and would finally get to see her naked, and have sex with her.
But in that, as with so many other things, I was destined to be greatly disappointed.