Almost two weeks had passed. Everything had changed since the day I'd lain with Dad and watched John Wick on the living room couch, where we had the naughty and nerve-wracking hot moment with each other.

Since that day, we hadn´t lain beside each other while watching television in the living room as a family. I don´t know why. But Dad had intentionally lain down, so I couldn't snuggle up to him. In addition, there had also been an intense tension between us, which I could not describe. It was just there, like a dark cloud that wouldn't go away. But the rest of the time, when we weren't sitting in the living room, we did everything to tease each other.

Every time Dad stood with his hands down by his side, I rushed to his side and moved close, tipping my bottom into his palm. He pulled his hand towards him the first few times, not knowing how to react, but gradually let it go, pretending to make random, innocent movements.

It developed quickly and ended up becoming conscious gropings. Touches that I looked forward to every day precisely because they changed depending on what I was wearing. When I had my short skirts on, like the one I had on when we were lying on the couch, he ran his hand up my thigh, under the fabric, and rested his hand on one butt cheek.

He carefully squeezed it whenever we had to part and then pulled his hand to him again. I always got a flutter in my stomach when he did that. Occasionally, he would give me a light pat, giving me the feeling that I was HIS, which quickly ignited the heat between my legs.

When I didn't have the opportunity to receive his loving touches, I did everything I could to display my body, hoping to seduce and lure him into depravity. When I passed by, I always showed off my rear a lot and turned it around so he couldn't avoid looking at me. The best was when the sun shone, and I could walk around the garden in my bikini and show it all off.

I had persuaded him to slather me in thick sunscreen a few times when I was lying in the sun, which was a delight to my need for his touch. He only did it when mom or big brother weren't around, but he also gave it his all when it finally became a reality. He sat astride and ensured that every area of skin was smeared. He was not afraid to caress my half-naked body, especially in the places where I was supposed to slather myself in sun cream.

I allowed it all and was glad he broke free from his typical sense of groping his eighteen-year-old daughter. His passionate kisses tickled pleasantly and always made my heart glow. The best was when he wore his loose sweatpants because I could feel his inevitable erection through the fabric. When that happened, I couldn't help but push my rear up and caress the muscular bulge. He always relented and jogged it as close to my tail area. I was continually blushing and was horrified at the thought of what might happen if our clothes were not present.

As time passed, Dad got braver, and so did I. Our banter became riskier, especially on my part. I did some things that I knew Dad felt very torn about. He was no doubt wholly sold on my naughty performance, but at the same time, also mega frustrated that I took such an open and foolhardy risk. Now imagine if either my mother or older brother discovered me. It would have been catastrophic. But it was precisely that reason why I did it because I found it incredibly exciting at the thought that they would discover me. I didn't want them to, but the excitement and thrill that they might do was so ravishing.

One of my foolhardy risks was when I was sitting on the couch in a short skirt with no panties. It was carefully planned because every time Dad passed by or when he was around; I would spread my legs and expose my abdomen completely to his nose. He was always sent to the seventh heaven and could neither speak nor move. It was a hilarious and cheeky game I had come up with. On the other hand, when my mother or older brother was nearby, I gathered my legs again and closed the view to my sacred place.

I didn't think about the consequences, which made me dare even further. I let my hand slide down between my spread legs. My pink clit was rubbed with delicate and careful strokes as I stared up at Dad. I did everything I could to make my facial expressions erotic and seductive. I bit my lip, danced with my tongue, moaned silently, and rolled my eyes.

When Dad worked at home, he couldn´t concentrate for good reasons. His focus was always drawn far away from the computer screen to his little girl, who was sitting and masturbating openly on the sofa, only a few meters away. I was not ashamed, and my father's face completely melted. Seeing how excited he was to see his naughty little girl like this was a wonderful and pleasant feeling.

I pushed my abdomen forward, speeding up the circular massaging motions, and quieted my heavy breathing. Oh my god, it was so hot.

Seeing how enraptured and aroused he became during my self-gratification awakened many electric impulses in me. The heat spread in my lap, and I could feel the same electric itch as when I was sitting on the couch with Dad. I most wanted to continue and follow it to the end of the road, but it felt wrong. I wouldn't do it myself, not without my father. I wanted him to do it. Only father could complete me.

I stopped while the game was still good, gathered my legs again, and ended the erotic performance. It brought a delightful relief to me when I saw Father's great disappointment when I packed away the good things. I smiled big, winked cheekily at him, and then stood up. My face was boiling with desire as I went to the kitchen for some water.

As I stood at the sink to fill up the glass, a smile spread across my lips as I could see through the mirror reflection of the kitchen window that Dad was looking over his shoulder to check on me. His staring and drooling gaze lay like a burning blanket on the parts of my body that his eyes eagerly observed.

I closed my eyes, gulped down the glass of water, and then went to the dishwasher. I opened the door as far down as possible and leaned forward further than usual to deliberately push my half-bare rear out. My short skirt showed most of me, and I knew Dad was looking. I wanted him to look because I wanted him to see how wet his little girl was. I was very wet. So wet that I could feel it filling up my insides.

I stood up slowly, closed the dishwasher, and turned around. My father was close to falling off the chair and was so embarrassed that I caught him peeking. But there was no way he was supposed to be ashamed. I walked over to him, behind the chair he was sitting on, and threw my arms around him.

"I'm still waiting for you, Dad," I whispered into his ear, giving him a loving and discreet kiss before leaving him alone at the dining table.

Later that day, when it was late at night, and I was lying alone in my lonely bed, I could hear Mom and Dad talking from their bedroom. It was next to my room on the other side of the wall. I could listen to their voices but not decipher the words from their mouths. I thought nothing more of it and turned on my side to go to sleep.

However, it wasn't long before I was pulled out of the journey to the land of dreams. Mother's and father's voices had changed, and my sense of hearing had noticed to such an extent as to raise suspicion. I quickly noticed that their voices had become wordless and had taken on a different sound.

"Oh God," I chirped when it dawned that my old parents were having fun with grown-up games. I took my pillow, buried my head as far into the mattress as possible, and clamped my pillow over my head to muffle their sounds completely. But this was a fantasy because no matter what I did, the sound of my parents having sex together could not be isolated.

As painful as it was to hear them together, it was even more painful to hear Dad making love to Mom instead of me. Oh God, how I hoped he would come in and visit me. The hopeless idea set things in motion, rousing my stomach to life. The gentle warmth beckoned, and before I knew it, I was lying with my hands under the covers. They pushed themselves down between my legs, where one of my index fingers eagerly began to caress the throbbing clit, while the other hand twisted one of its fingers up my moist tight young pussy. Quickly, it sent another finger up to fill the great void that I knew only Dad could fill.

I imagined that he was lying between my legs and that his thick, manly fingers were thrusting into me instead of my own. He was guaranteed to reach much further up than I could and send me to places I had not yet visited.

“Oh, man! I wish father were here!” I moaned softly, praying that one day I would experience the same thing Mom experienced at that moment. I couldn't help but think how horrible it was to be in the same house as mom and big brother. If I could decide, I would have kicked them out long ago, leaving only Dad and me.

I imagined that it must have filled my father's heart, too, that we couldn't break free because of the two unauthorized residents. Especially mom. I didn't think it was fair that we couldn't be together because of her.

The many frustrating thoughts ran like an endless movie fast-forwarded in my head. The intense itching and the wild impulses had reached a point that, thank God, tore me out of the hectic crowds of thoughts before it was too late. I returned to the present, and only then did I realize I was about to reach the breaking point of a long-awaited orgasm.

I held fast to the decision that only Father would burst and take me to the highest clouds. I abruptly stopped my venture, leaving my hot sex hungry pussy for closure as I cried to sleep that night.

When it finally became a Friday, long after the sex episode with Mom and Dad, I overheard a random conversation between them after dinner. My mother explained that she wanted to visit her sister. It had been many months since they had last seen each other, and they had just agreed to meet this upcoming weekend.

Father immediately began complaining that it did not fit his plans and that he could not come along. Mother was unhappy about this and hastened to come up with many negative comments and make him look like the tacky parent. But my strong and courageous father stuck with his decision and pointed out that when my mother came up with her spontaneous trips, and he had not been informed about it in good time, she could not expect him to go along. It ended with my mother leaving the house angrily and being incomprehensible to my father's counterarguments.

In the end, Mom decided to go anyway, and in that regard, asked me and my older brother if we wanted to go. I immediately declined and had difficulty hiding my overwhelming pleasure at her slipping out of the house, even for a short while. It got even better when I heard my older brother said yes to go along with my mother. Absolutely fucking YES!

I cheered loudly inside myself and felt a gushing eagerness ripple through my body. I'm not lying when I say I was almost on my toes and jumping while clapping my hands, looking like a little girl on Christmas Eve who had gotten her biggest wish fulfilled. It wasn´t too far away to be true. Of course, the best dream scenario would be that I lived alone with Dad, but despite that, I gladly accepted a weekend alone with him.

The next day, I had set the alarm clock way too early. It was a conscious choice. Because I wanted to be there from the morning when my mother and older brother were getting ready to leave. I listed several times from the bed to the door and back again, but nothing happened.

After quite some time, I finally heard something. I could hear Mom fussing around until she finally got Big Brother out of bed. He had initially regretted going along and had not anticipated that he had to get up so early. However, I saw him come out of his room in a zombie-like state and go straight to the bathroom. When he was done, he came out reasonably well-groomed with damp and curly hair, then returned to his room and got ready.

It wasn't until a little after nine o'clock that my mother went into the bedroom to say goodbye to my father. I could hear his voice through the wall, which reassured me that he was awake, too.

The stairs in the house creaked, and afterward, I heard the front door close. I eagerly and excitedly jumped out of bed and went to the window of my room. I pulled the curtain aside and followed mother and older brother with a sharp look to the car. I only took my eyes off them when the car had driven out and down to the end of the road until it was entirely out of my sight.

"How long should someone have to wait to be sure a person has left home," I pondered and sat for a few minutes to be 100% sure they didn't come back.

After I got up, I went to my standing mirror and checked myself out.

I briefly fumbled with my breasts, giving the little pads gentle caresses that quickly stiffened their nipple as they began to push through the thin fabric of my pink top. The warmth and wetness between my legs had been there for some time due to the thought that Dad was awake and that we were finally alone in the house.

I paced up and down in my room and was restless as I tried to muster up my courage. It was mega nerve-wracking, and if you had observed my cautious walk to my father's bedroom, you would have been lying flat with laughter.

I opened the door at one point and moved outside, but quickly crawled back into bed again. After several attempts, I finally made my way to my parents' bedroom and their door, which was ajar, to my great surprise. I took a heavy, deep breath and finally puffed on it, so it slowly opened.

Dad was sitting by the window, wearing only his old boxer shorts. He kept a sharp eye on the road just as I did to ensure Mother didn't return home. Undoubtedly, he had thought the same thing as me, which gave a pleasant stomach rush.

He could sense I was in the room and turned towards me. I smiled big, and he did the same. He stood up and spread his arms as an open invitation for me to jump into his big embrace. And I did. I had a flashback to when I was eight years old, running faster than my legs could keep up, heading towards my father, who had crouched down with arms outstretched, ready to grab me. It was precisely the same situation. I jumped into his arms, and he grabbed me like I was eight. I was reminded that I was still his beloved little girl even though I had become a woman now.

I hugged him as close as possible and rested my head on his bare and muscular chest. I felt his arms tighten their grip as he rocked me from side to side. It brought up a lot of emotions in me. Both good and sad, and a tear rolled down my cheek as I found myself with someone who could give me care, security, and love in quantities I could not put into words. I cried and snorted softly, and Father, good as he was, let me do it in silence without commenting on it. Instead, he sat down on the edge of the bed with me in his arms while we hugged for a long time.

Dad's hands caressed my back as I hung around his neck, feeling like the little girl I once was many years ago. I hugged him even harder, so he collapsed onto the bed. I lay like a sticky frog on top, feeling perfectly fine in my homely habitat. I felt I was welcome, safe, loved, and, most of all, at home. A place that I could rarely visit and a place of which there was only one in my chaotic world.

At one point, I looked up at Father's face. It was calm, and he seemed almost mindless as if he was focusing on the here and now. He smiled, and I smiled back. He read my thoughts and moved his head close to mine. His lips sought mine until they finally met, and we kissed. Oh yes, we kissed. They were long, silent kisses as Dad touched my chin to push me closer so our lips could press together more. I lifted myself further so he could let go with his...