“Happy Birthday, baby,” Dad whispered, planting a soft kiss on the top of my head.

My cake, a pink monstrosity of gargantuan proportions, had eighteen candles. I’d counted them ten times already in my head, still not quite believing that the big day had finally arrived. As with all special days, I was having to share this wonderful experience with my sister, Megan. She sat moodily at the far end of the small, wooden kitchen table with her head in her hands. I was fairly certain from her expression that she probably wasn’t enjoying the prolonged attention I was getting, but to be honest, I didn’t particularly care.

It was my birthday!

Megan is nineteen and it was partly because of the big deal Dad had made of her eighteenth birthday that had me so excited about my own. If my present was anywhere near as good as Megan’s I’d be a very, very happy girl indeed.

Megan huffed audibly as Dad sat in the chair to my right and began enthusiastically lighting the candles with his old silver lighter. I sneered at Megan while Dad was concentrating on the candles and she rolled her eyes sullenly in return.

“Do I have to be here, Dad?” Megan whined. “I’ve got loads of uni work to get done.”

Dad continued to light the candles, his expression fixed on the task at hand. Candle number eight was currently being brought to life and my excitement was now palpable. I knocked my bare knees together absentmindedly underneath the table and hummed to no-one in particular under my breath.

“Megan …” Dad whispered calmly as he lit candle number nine, “Beth didn’t cause this fuss when it was your birthday, now did she?

Megan pouted and shook her head.

“Please … be a good girl and sit quietly.”

I took this opportunity to stick my tongue out at my older sister before breaking into a massive grin. Megan mouthed the word “bitch” at me before folding her arms and looking out of the kitchen window.

Candle number twelve was now illuminating the room. The light danced hypnotically in Dad’s eyes as he moved on to number thirteen.

“Sorry Dad,” I whispered coyly, “there are a lot of candles!”

He laughed and nodded in agreement.

"Yes, yes there are."

Megan huffed again and twiddled her index finger through the longer curly ringlets of her dark hair. Even she was caught by the growing hypnotic glow of the birthday cake.

I smiled and clenched the muscles in my bottom.

“Jesus, Beth you need to relax. Could you BE any more excited?” Megan chipped in sardonically.

I frowned and mouthed the word “cunt” at her. She recoiled as if slapped and looked to Dad for support; he’d just lit candle number thirteen.

I wasn’t going to let Megan ruin MY day!

“Oh … my … god!”

It was Mum. I could hear the front door closing out in the hallway, and the sound of her heels clip-clopping across the hardwood floor just outside.

“Please tell me I didn’t miss anything?” She said, still unbuttoning her coat as she entered the kitchen. She planted a quick kiss on Dad’s cheek as he lit candle number fifteen before playfully dashing behind my chair. She hugged me tightly and then proceeded to plant eighteen kisses on my cheek (I counted every one).

At forty-five my mother was still an exceptionally beautiful woman. She was taller than both me and Megan, and bustier if truth be known. Although, she had always promised us girls that her boobs didn’t really ‘come into their own’ until after Megan was born. Her hair was lighter and straighter than Megan’s, more like mine I suppose.

Mum quickly sat to my left and joined us as we collectively gazed into the beacon of light that was my birthday cake. She took my left hand in her right and patted it gently. She held her breath for a moment and looked directly at me with a warm smile on her face. It only took mere seconds for the tears to begin to well up in her eyes.

“Oh Mum!” I said, feeling my own eyes beginning to water slightly, “no-one’s dying!”

She nodded and patted my hand again.

She got like this sometimes. Mum didn’t like the fact that we were all grown-up. I smiled at her and wiped her eyes.

Candle number sixteen was now lit.

“God,” Megan Mumbled, “how much longer is this going to take?”

“Megan!” Mum replied sharply. Megan seemed to momentarily shrink back into her chair.

“And … we … are …” Dad struggled with the final candle, “done!”

Mum clapped enthusiastically and Dad bowed in an overly dramatic fashion. I wiggled on my bottom excitedly and sat up tall in the chair ready for the song to begin.

Mum counted us in.

“One, two, three, four.”

“Happy birthday to you! Happy birthday to you! Happy birthday dear Bethany! Happy birthday to you!”

It took me two goes to blow out the candles and even Megan managed to join in on the applause once I had completed my task. Mum wafted the smoke with the back of her hand and wiped her eyes with a tissue that Dad had passed her.

“Mother, could you clear the table?” Dad whispered, “It’s time for my girl’s present.”

Mum wiped her eyes again smiling, before lifting the birthday cake and placing it on the kitchen surface under the window. She returned in true mum-fashion with a dry cloth. Quickly, she wiped down the table and returned to her chair beside me.

Megan yawned.

Dad was standing now. He pushed his own chair under the table and moved behind me, placing his firm hands on my bare shoulders. He squeezed me and leaned down to whisper in my ear.

“Are you excited?”

I nodded enthusiastically.

“Stand up Beth.”

I did as Dad asked and he effortlessly lifted my chair and moved it against the far wall out of the way. I wiggled my bare feet on the cold tiles and my body shivered slightly with anticipation; my skin was beginning to goose bump. Mum looked up at me and smiled - she was still holding my hand.

I didn’t really want to look at Megan. I had no doubt she was still making it very clear to anybody that was interested that she didn’t really want to be here. She could be such a spoilt bitch! I was good-as-gold at her eighteenth birthday!

Dad’s right hand was suddenly between my shoulder blades pushing me firmly forward onto the empty kitchen table. I complied of course, my upper body suddenly horizontal on the plain wooden surface.

It was difficult not to look at Megan from this angle; she was now less than a foot away from me. But, I was secretly enjoying the look of envy which had become all too clear on her reddening face.

I jumped a little as Dad’s fingers squeezed my bottom through the thin material of my floral summer dress. Mum squeezed my hand and stroked it reassuringly as he lifted my dress up and over my bottom in order to reveal my underwear.

Dad audibly gasped from behind me, and for a moment there was silence. I’d worn frilly pink panties in the hope that I would be as lucky as my sister before me. Dad’s response seemed to be one of approval.

I stared into Megan’s eyes and my mouth opened a little as I felt Dad’s hands back on my bum, massaging me through the thin material of my panties. I grinned at my sister and let out a small moan; Mum stroked my hand in response. I could feel my cheeks growing redder by the second. It was true to say that I was enjoying the attention, but at the same time I was feeling a little embarrassed by my rather unladylike pose.

Without warning Dad had dropped to his knees behind me and pressed his nose between my cheeks, nuzzling against the fabric. My body quivered as I felt his nose brush my pussy through the fabric. His hands were on my hips, holding me still as he nudged his nose against my bottom and sniffed.

“Oh Beth,” he whispered dreamily, “you smell incredible.”

He started to plant delicate little kisses on my panties, each one made my belly roll sharply; my body suddenly more sensitive than I had ever known it before. I stood on tip-toes as Dad’s hands crept up my hips and he centred his kisses on the mound between my legs. I parted my thighs almost instinctively and arched my back a little, pushing my bum towards the ceiling.

His fingers finally came to rest on the elastic waistband of my underwear. Dad continued with the kisses as he very slowly tugged my tight pink panties down my tanned thighs. They finally came to rest unceremoniously just above my knees.

I turned my head to the left to look at Mum as the cool air met my exposed pussy. Our eyes met as Dad’s tongue lapped in one long, slow motion from my clitoris to my anus. I groaned loudly as he lapped at me a second time, his tongue parting my labia before pausing at my bottom and licking at it gently. He lapped at me a third time, pushing his tongue into my vagina before repeating the manoeuvre on my anus. My lower body felt slick, wet and warm.

Mum leaned forward on her elbows as Dad swept his tongue along my wetness for a fourth time. We kissed. Her tongue pushed into my mouth and circled against my own. It was long and passionate and she never let go of my hand. Eventually, she pulled away slightly and brushed my long brown hair behind my ears.

When it had been Megan’s eighteenth I had been sitting where Megan was now. I must say the whole event had been initially extremely shocking. But, as I watched my father mount my sister I felt nothing but complete envy and longing. I remember dashing to my room after the event and changing out of my clothes, my panties soaked against my skin. I understood Megan’s jealously all too well, because I’d felt it too.

Dad continued to lap feverishly at my clitoris which already felt swollen and sensitive. He sucked on it gently causing me to let out a long moan which echoed in the relative silence of the kitchen. I could feel his fingers stroking my engorged lips as he hungrily suckled on my sex. My eyes closed and I clenched my teeth together as my orgasm began to build in my lower belly. My breathing became more rapid, and with each stroke of his fingers I let out a loud moan.

I opened my eyes and stared into Megan’s as Dad’s fingertip eased into my greasy, warm pussy. She smiled for a moment and took my right hand in hers. I clenched my muscles around his finger and opened my mouth in a silent cry. He continued to caress my clit with his lips and mouth, and it wasn’t long before I was grinding my pussy against his finger and tongue.

“Oh …. Oh fuck,” I managed as he squeezed a second finger alongside the first.

I rocked myself against his fingers causing the table to slide forward on the tiled surface. It squealed under my weight. Dad began to plunge his fingers into me with more intensity; circling them inside me, churning my wetness. His mouth latched onto the hard little nub of flesh between my legs.

My body tightened quite suddenly and a euphoric wave of pleasure swept through me. I cried out and arched my back feeling my pussy clench tightly around Dad's fingers.

I lay there panting for a while while Mum stroked my hair. Dad was already in the process of unbuckling his belt and pulling his trousers and shorts down to his knees as I pulled myself up onto my elbows.

“Good girl!” he whispered from behind me.

It was then that I felt his cock, hard and long between my legs. Dad prodded it gently against my opening, smearing it along my slit. It made me shudder every time it brushed my sensitive clit. His right hand was back on my hip and I could only imagine that he was guiding his cock with the left. Finally, he pressed the swollen head against my vagina and paused. I could feel his eyes surveying the soft curves of my pert bum. His cock felt enormous.

Dad placed his left hand on my other hip before slowly easing himself into me. I cried out as he pushed against me, it felt for a moment like it would tear me in two. He groaned loudly and eased out of me slightly. It seemed to me that he was quite happy to fuck me shallowly and gently to begin with, and I have to say, for that I was thankful.

It did not take long for his lust to take over. Dad's groans increased with each stabbing thrust until finally his heavy testicles were slapping loudly and rhythmically against my body. My own hips bucked frantically against his thrusts and I grunted loudly with each frantic penetration. After another minute or so his left hand was in my hair, pulling me back onto him. He suddenly jackhammered frenetically into me as my eyes met with Megan’s. His pace was relentless and I shrieked with each quick plunge, my pussy throbbing between my legs.

“Oh fuck me Daddy! Please fuck me!” I screamed desperately.

Dad suddenly froze behind me. His body shuddered three, maybe four times. He breathed out loudly and collapsed on top of me. I lay still on the table panting for air as he pulled free of me; I could feel his sticky semen leaking from me as he pulled my panties back into place over my bottom and re-adjusted my summer dress.

All four of us sat there for a moment in silence. And, as was the case last year, it was Mum who spoke first:

“Would anyone like a slice of cake?”