6 comments/ 14728 views/ 7 favorites An Unexpected Entry By: jimb1978 Summary Bethan's back from her first term away at uni; freshly-pierced, freshly-tattooed and now, it seems... freshly-bisexual. And what better way to shock everyone back home than showing off her sassy, rebellious, dreadlocked new girlfriend Emily? But when they visit her old school friend Jadie, it's Bethan and Emily who'll get a shock. And Jim might just have something to do with that... Jim's had his ups and downs in life; a parent at sixteen, an orphan at eighteen and a widower at twenty-four. Now, at thirty-five, he's a proud father, a successful businessman and a trusted neighbour. That last one might not be for much longer, mind. Something to do with his, ahem, unusual relationship with the girl next door. That would be Jadie. She's heartbreakingly cute, disarmingly funny and fearsomely intelligent. Having grown up with internet access and all that entails, she's also preternaturally knowledgeable – not to mention utterly uninhibited – about sex. In short, she's the nineteen-year-old that every modern man secretly fantasises about. And Jim's been head-over-heels in love with her since that rainy afternoon eight months ago when she 'lost' her house keys and ended up in his bed. Since they've been together, Jim's come to expect the unexpected. Even so, he didn't expect to find her quite so insatiable when he went round to see her earlier on. He definitely didn't expect Bethan and Emily to turn up and catch them, ah, in flagrante on the kitchen table. And, well, he would never in a million years have expected Jadie to invite the two girls to stay and... watch. Is Jadie just not thinking straight because she's horny? It wouldn't be the first time. Or is she, once again, two steps ahead of Jim; that ferocious intellect of hers combining with her fierce love for him to take their relationship to places he could never have imagined? Contents Introduction: January 17th 2014 Part 1: A Serious Case of Middle-Class-Rebel-Girl Part 2: Good Girl's Back Part 3: Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Kitchen Part 4: Coitus Interrupted Part 5: Watching the Watchers Part 6: I Want One Like That, Now Part 7: That Awkward Moment Part 8: Is That Even a Thing? Epilogue Introduction: January 17th 2014 My name's Jim Baines. But hey, you knew that already, right? What else you already know about me probably depends on whether you've read any of my previous story: Indecent Descent. In four episodes, that told the tale of my decline into moral turpitude: my journey from responsible, decent father to morally-bankrupt, teen-deflowering reprobate... with my teenage daughter's best friend playing the starring role. She still is playing a starring role; in the story you're about to read and, well, in my life. I'm not going to go through all the details again of how that ridiculous state of affairs came to be. If you're really that interested, you can track down Episode One online; that pretty much covers how it all started. So, for the purposes of this story, I'll cut it right down to just the key facts. Sure, there'll be things which don't seem to make a lot of sense; probably times when you'll go "Huh?" and other times when you'll just stare at the page incredulously and think, "Oh, for God's sake... you expect me to believe that?" That won't necessarily be because you're missing any vital information from not having read the previous episodes, though. That'll be more to do with the frankly unbelievable nature of what you'll be reading. I don't expect you to believe it, though. Not any more. God knows I wrote enough of that I-know-you-won't-believe-me-but-I-swear-it's-true monologue stuff in Indecent Descent. Now that I'm back and writing again, a few months later... I'm kind of past all that. I know this stuff happened. The others involved; they know it happened. But well, I think it's better for you just to treat this whole story as the fantasy you'll undoubtedly believe it to be. We'll all be happy, then. But hey, even a fantasy needs some factual details though, right? So, here we go again. Let's do a few of those right now. You know my name. Well, actually, that's not quite true. Jim Baines? That's not my real surname, of course. Some of the other names have been altered, too. I don't want you stalking me, or anyone else involved for that matter. But most of the other factual details? Yeah, they're true. Some minor geographical and biographical adjustments just to keep the more-determined of you off our scent, for sure. But in the main, everything else is fact. So. I'm now thirty-five years old. I live in Chelmsford with my daughter. I own and run a bespoke engineering business which has done remarkably well in recent times, so I'm actually pretty well-off these days. I'm English. White. Nearly, but not quite, six feet tall. Eleven and a half stone. Blue eyes. Brown hair, and plenty of it; not even a hint of MPB yet. I'm blessed with a pretty-decent masculine body; I eat well, keep myself fit and stay in trim. This time last year I wouldn't have said that I was a particularly good-looking guy but recent events have persuaded me that I must be, really. So, yeah, maybe I'm cuter than I thought. And I don't look like I'm thirty-five, apparently. Whatever thirty-five is, you know, supposed to look like to nineteen-year-old girls. Yeah, nineteen-year-old girls. My daughter, for starters: Kiera. I know, I know; you're doing the maths right now, aren't you? Yes, I really was a father at sixteen. That... well, that doesn't matter now. Like I said, if you really want the details of all this stuff, you can find them elsewhere. For now, all you need to know is that she's grown up to be a stunning, intelligent, elegant young woman who's currently taking a year out to work and save up some money before she goes off to university later this year. Like any father, I'm fiercely proud of her. She's had some shit to deal with in her life. Recently, that's been mostly of my making. I said girls, plural, though didn't I? And yes, there have been a few others who've featured in my life in recent times – Kiera's friends, mainly. Some have featured more, ah, heavily than others. Jess, Becky, Madison; they've all had stories which have intertwined with mine. Especially Maddy's little, um, unexpected suggestion last summer; that was a story all of its own. And Bethan, of course; she's going to pop up in the little tale you're about to read, along with her... companion. But there's one of Kiera's friends in particular who... well, if I said she was now my fiancée then that just cuts straight to the chase, doesn't it? Her name's Jadie. She was – still is, incredibly, however hard that might be to believe – Kiera's best friend. She's lived next-door to us since she and Kiera were eight. And, since the rainy April afternoon a few months ago when she unexpectedly ended up in my bed, she and I have maintained a crazily-intense, secretive relationship that's turned my world completely upside-down. I should perhaps point out that the ending-up-in-bed thing was unexpected to me. For her... not so much. You don't need to know about all that, now, though. Like I said, you can read about that elsewhere. I guess you do need to know that I am still insanely, madly in love with her. So much so, that I proposed to her in November. Yeah. Love. Marriage. Not the sorts of words you expect to read in this sort of story are they? But, there they are anyway. For ten years I'd never imagined that I'd ever be married again; never thought that anyone could fill the gaping chasm carved in my heart when Katie – my beautiful wife and mother to Kiera – was taken from me. But, somehow, Jadie has filled that chasm. She's more than filled it, to be honest. She's... healed it. But still... marriage? That does feel kinda weird, given that even now the only other person who even knows about our relationship is Kiera. Jadie doesn't wear the engagement ring. Not yet. Her parents – Keith and Sarah – still have no idea that their daughter has been fucking the nice, respectable chap next-door for the last eight months; yes, that same kind, caring man who's looked after their daughter all these years whilst they've been slaving away at their respective careers. Yeah, I can't say I feel too proud about that level of betrayal, either. But, well, love happens, right? They'll find out soon enough; Jadie's going to tell them. Pretty soon, as it happens. Keith's finally retiring and he and Sarah will be moving house in a couple of weeks, back to his native Scotland. Jadie's staying; moving in with Kiera and me until she goes to uni in the autumn. Keith and Sarah have bought a place somewhere near Inverness, I believe. A long way away. And a much safer distance away for Keith to be, once he's discovered the truth about me. Anyway, Jadie is just... awesome. If you've read Indecent Descent you'll know that. If you haven't, well, I will actually take the time to try to explain again here. She's worth it. And, well, I like writing about her anyway. So, where to start? You need to know what she looks like, right? Don't worry about the other girls; I'll cover them when we get to the proper story. But Jadie's the star of this little adventure and if it really is going to be a fantasy for you... I reckon you should find out now, before we start, whether she's your sort of fantasy material. Better that than reading the whole thing only to work out, too late, that she's not really your type. Don't worry. She's not, like, twenty-stone with a face like a horse or anything. But still. She might not be to your tastes, I guess. Like, if you're gay, for example. Or if there's something completely fucking wrong with you... Here we go, then. This could take a while... I have no idea where to start, so I'll pick a random attribute. She's not very tall. Pretty short, in fact; only a couple of inches over five feet. And I guess that just accentuates the fact that she could never be described as skinny. Don't get me wrong; she's not fat – not by my definition – but, well, if you're a lover of the emaciated catwalk-model look then I suppose you might think she was carrying a little too much weight. And I guess if that was the case, you'd probably also not be too keen on her gorgeous curvy midriff which doesn't quite fulfil the requirements for the washboard-flat aesthetic. I doubt you'd like her lovely, shapely thighs which are gloriously smooth, creamy and well-defined but which don't exactly conform to the stick-like ideal. You probably wouldn't be as enamoured as I am with her fabulous, round little bottom which... yeah, yeah, you get the picture. She's not a shapeless clothes-hanger waif. But, well, to me... her body just seems to be all-in-proportion for her height. She's got curves, sure, but not too many and they're in all the right places, if you know what I mean. Especially around the chest area. Okay, I'll just come out and say it; she has the most epic tits. Epic as in form and beauty, that is, rather than size. They're not comically massive or cartoonish, yet still big enough on her short frame to be a distraction if you're trying to have a serious conversation with her. They are, it has to be said, utterly defiant of gravity; pretty much perfectly symmetrical and they possess the most incredible, delectable shape I've ever seen. The sort of tits that would mean no sane man could ever tire of her. Even if she didn't also happen to be achingly pretty. Which, of course, she is. In fact, she's beautiful. I mean there's different kinds of beautiful, of course. Refined; graceful; elegant... you know that sort of beautiful, right? That's my daughter, Kiera. But, well, that's not really Jadie. Honestly? I don't think anyone would describe Jadie as elegant. She's got way too much... energy for that. And if you've ever seen her sitting on a table, legs apart, wearing nothing other than a pyjama top and eating a bacon sandwich – which I have, of course – then you'd know that neither refined nor elegant would be the first words which came to mind. Sexy, for sure. Dirty? Undoubtedly. Fucking hawt as hell? Well, yeah, obviously. I mean, bacon, right? But elegant? Refined? Not really. I doubt anyone would use the word graceful either; she doesn't have that self-conscious, narcissistic sashay thing going on when she moves and occasionally she'll trip or drop something. It's cute as hell when she does that; she says she's got a clumsy gene. But graceful? Nah. And you know what? None of that matters. Because Jadie's got her own thing going on when it comes to beautiful. She's got the totally-cute, adorably-bubbly, so-pretty-it-hurts kind of thing going on. It comes from within; it's way more than skin-deep. There's a warmth there; a natural, healthy softness to her features which you won't find on those harsh, taut, preened magazine-cover models with their coldly-defined cheekbones and oh-so-obvious awareness of their own attractiveness. Jadie's not like that. She's just... unwittingly beautiful. I guess you'll know if that's your thing or not. It's definitely mine. And having seen how much attention she gets when she's out and about, I think a fair few others would agree. Her face just sort of... captivates people. Her amazing eyes, which are an unusually bright shade of green, have a lot to do with it, I reckon. They're just so playful; insatiably curious, fiercely intelligent and there's a sparkle in them which just hooks you in. Her smooth, young-looking skin keeps a sort of healthy light tan through the year which adds to that sense of... vitality she carries. Her hair hangs just over her shoulders if left to its own, straight devices, but she's always doing it up in a myriad of ever-changing styles, just to keep me guessing. She has naturally neat, dark eyebrows; a delightful little button nose and, in the summertime, she gets a scattering of tiny dark freckles across her cheeks and nose which are just adorable. She's got tidy shell-like ears and an impossibly cute mouth with natural, full lips; there's a perfect set of little white teeth behind them, too. Be assured, American friends, there are no English dental disasters here. And wow, is that mouth expressive! She possesses the biggest repertoire of smiles I've ever known. There's one in particular she does where her entire face just lights up and my heart stops. Every. Single. Time. Seriously, she is just... so pretty. So, so pretty. It's not all about looks, though. Honestly, it's not. Okay, yeah; if she was twenty stone with a face like a horse then maybe I'd not be quite so keen on the whole touchy-feely thing. But Jadie would still be one awesome girl. She's funny, for starters; she's got an unusually crude, juvenile sense of humour. She likes word-play too; we've bantered about together ever since she was a kid, and her vocabulary can make it sound like she's ten years older than she really is. There is one word which seems to be missing from that vocabulary, mind: Inhibition. Probably something to do with all that porn she used to watch, growing up. She's clever, too. More than that, actually. She's ridiculously intelligent; picking up a whole string of A's and A-stars from her GCSEs and, more recently, her A-Levels. Next summer, she's off to California, having won a place on an undergraduate programme at one of the most prestigious universities in the world. So, yeah, she might look a bit like your typical dumb Essex-girl (although not so much these days, now the fake tan's faded and her hair's not dyed blonde any more) but as soon as she opens her mouth it's obvious that she's got way more going on in her head than spray-tans and nail-painting. Science is her thing – it always has been – and she's forever reading articles and journals and high-powered academic stuff that's well beyond my comprehension. She remembers it all, too; she's got this borderline-savant memory which used to annoy the hell out of Kiera when they revised together. Her trade-off is the clumsy thing. Sports... well, they don't suit her too well. Apart from the bedroom-based ones, of course. Despite being a science geek, she's also one of the most caring, loving people I've ever known. Sorry. That was unfair. I know, I know... lab techs have feelings, too, right? Okay, as well as being a scientist, she's incredible warm and compassionate. The way she... nurtured Kiera when they were younger; taking her under her wing and somehow fixing my daughter when I thought her mother's death had left her irreparably broken... that was pretty amazing. Jadie did that purely through love, devotion and an insatiable desire to understand Kiera, so she could help her get better. I loved her for that, already; long before we ever started sharing a bed. I tell you, it's so fucking weird, having known her for all that time as a child and a teenager growing up, to have ended up... in a relationship with her now. Okay, yes, we did have an unusual affinity even before we got together properly. With her dad away all the time and her mother working all hours, Jadie spent more time round my house with Kiera and me than she did with her own family. I was her best friend's dad but, yeah, I kind of saw her as part of our family too. We were close. And obviously, having said that, I am duty-bound to point out that nothing, you know, happened between us until she was eighteen and – this is the important bit – I couldn't have been more surprised when it did. Really. We hadn't been that kind of close. I never planned for this to happen. Honestly, that's the truth... your Honour. But, well, I won't dwell on that anyway. You'll either believe me or you won't. I've covered it well enough, elsewhere. So, yeah, that's Jadie. Sorry. I got a bit carried away there, didn't I? That was probably way too much detail. Short, cute, funny, caring, clever, big tits... that would probably have been enough for you, right? But at least...well, at least you might have some idea now of just how completely in love with her I really am. And, I guess, that probably covers everything that you need to know before I begin properly with my account of this next little adventure. It is a love story, I'm afraid. A ridiculously-unlikely, somewhat-depraved, filthily-explicit and inappropriately-lurid love story, yeah. But still, in the end a love story. There are... shudder... emotions involved. Just, like, so as you know in advance. Anyway, boys and girls. Oops, sorry, ladies and gentlemen. At least, I hope that's the case as this is most definitely not a tale for boys and girls. Don't say I didn't warn you. But now, with that all done, I think we might just be ready to get on with the show at last. A show that consists of a detailed account of the events which took place, in a quiet corner of Chelmsford, on Thursday 19th December, 2013. All sitting comfortably? Trousers adjusted, yes? Good. Then I shall begin... Part 1: A Serious Case of Middle-Class-Rebel-Girl A voice called through from the kitchen. "Dad, I thought you'd been to Morrisons?" Morrisons was the supermarket just a few streets away from where we lived. And I had been. In fact, I'd not long got back. "Uh, yeah. I have, Kiera. I went this morning. Which you'd know if you'd actually managed to get out of bed at a reasonable hour." "Yeah, yeah, I'm practising for student life. Deal with it," she called back. "So where's the milk that you would definitely not have forgotten to get, then, if you'd really done the shopping?" An Unexpected Entry Shit. She had me there. I'd been so taken in by the get-one-free offers, I'd forgotten to replenish our supply of milk. That wasn't good, given how much tea we drank. I smiled to myself; I was going to have to start writing a list before going shopping. I might not look like I was thirty-five, but some days I felt even older. "Ummm... I'm guessing it's not in the fridge, then?" I called back. I knew full well that it wasn't, of course but... well, I didn't want to admit my mistake quite that quickly. Kiera put her head round the living-room door and gave me a pitying look. I glanced up from the sofa, looking guilty. "Dad, you're not supposed to be, like, senile at thirty-five." "I'm not senile. I just got... distracted by biscuits." She laughed at that. "Distracted by biscuits? That's about right. It would have been too much to ask for you to have been distracted by something I might actually want as well." She wasn't a big eater, my daughter. Skinny little thing. Definitely not a biscuit girl. "Yeah, well, I'm afraid I don't find salad all that much of a distraction," I said, truthfully. "Oh, whatever." She rolled her eyes. "I'll just fetch a map, shall I, so you can find the plot you've obviously lost? You knew we needed milk. It was you who told me, last night. Or have you forgotten that as well?" She paused, looking at me directly. I saw a flash of mischief in her eyes. "Jadie won't want to marry an Alzy, you know," she said. "We'll have to get you put in a home." Jadie and I had been engaged for just over a month. Kiera's relaxed joking around the subject reminded me – not for the first time – of how well my daughter had seemingly adjusted to the idea that her best friend was, at some unspecified point in the future, going to become her stepmother. Still, I'd always known the bond between the two girls had been strong. What Jadie had done for Kiera when she was a little girl; caring and coaxing and encouraging, relentlessly and with such compassion... that had been instrumental in helping Kiera to slowly but surely overcome the tragedy of her mother's untimely death. It had been an unusual circumstance for a friendship to be forged in. But it was surely a key reason why Kiera had felt able – eventually, at least – to forgive Jadie's transgression with me. A transgression that was still very much ongoing. "Ah, the compassion of youth," I replied, sarcastically. "But who's going to pay to put you through uni if you get me... put in care?" "Duh, I don't need anyone to pay. Why do you think I'm working my butt off this year and saving everything I earn?" I smiled at her use of the word butt. I'd have said arse, of course. Bloody Americanisation again, I thought; her generation was even worse than mine for that. Still, language aside, she had a fair point. Whatever it was – butt or ass or arse or bum – she was working it off, rather ironically given the topic of our conversation, at Morrisons. It wasn't a well-paid job but she was indeed saving pretty much everything and she would, in fact, be able to cover a chunk of her tuition fees herself. It was why she'd taken a year out instead of going straight off to uni like most of her friends. Very forward-thinking was my daughter. I admired her a lot for that. "Alright, alright... I'll go back over and get the milk," I said, resignedly. Her face softened, having won her little victory. She smiled again; genuinely this time. "Actually... it's alright, Dad. You don't really need to. I just thought it was funny that you forgot. There might be enough left anyway for when Bethan and Emily arrive, and I'll bring some home later after my shift this evening." "They're coming over again today?" I queried, referring to Bethan and Emily. "They were only here yesterday." "Oh, well done. You remember that, then do you?" she said playfully, returning to her implication that I was on the path to senility. "And yes, they'll be here in a few minutes. They didn't get to see Jadie yesterday, because someone was taking her out on a last-minute Christmas shopping trip, weren't they?" "Guilty as charged, m'lud." "M'lud? Seriously? I think you'll find I'm a M'lady. At least I was, last time I looked." "Sorry, son. I mean, daughter. Um. Who are you again? Are these my feet?" She laughed, shaking her head. "Not funny, Dad. Way too convincing." Walking over to the front window, she yawned and stretched, checking her phone before leaning back against the windowsill to face me. I smiled at her. She could tell I was going to say something. "What?" she challenged. "Er... Bethan's changed a bit, hasn't she?" Kiera laughed. "Oh right, that. My Dad, the master of epic understatement, as usual. Yeah, she is... a bit different." "What do her mum and dad make of her new... lifestyle? Has it had the desired effect of shock and awe?" "Don't be so cruel. You make it sound like she's doing it just to annoy them." I raised my eyebrows at that. Kiera laughed. "Yeah, okay, maybe she is," my daughter conceded. "But you can hardly blame her. They were so weird and strict all the time... it wasn't normal. I'm not surprised she's kind of gone a bit wild." Kiera was right. Bethan's parents were indeed a bit mental. I recalled Kiera and the other girls having to make up some very convoluted 'school project' stories just so they could get Bethan 'released' to come out with them, as she hadn't been allowed out purely for the purposes of socialising. Which meant, somewhat inevitably, that as soon as she'd escaped her parents' clutches and moved into halls of residence, Bethan had gone all-in when it came to throwing off the shackles of her restrictive upbringing. She'd been away at uni for a term and now, if her appearance the day before had been anything to go by, she had come back with a serious case of middle-class-rebel-girl. Just the way she looked told a story. Previously I remembered her as a fairly plain-looking girl. She'd had a pleasant enough oval face, well-kept straight brown hair and, I recalled, particularly nice porcelain-white skin. Average height and build; a nice feminine figure hinted at beneath her conservative clothes. But not the sort of girl who stood out. Now, though, well, that couldn't be said any more. She was anything but plain. She still couldn't really be described as pretty, but there was a lot more... life there; a vibrance to her that made her a lot more appealing. I thought back to what she'd looked like the day before. Emo, would be the modern term. I smiled to myself; we called them goths back in the nineties. She'd had punky streaks of blue and blonde combed into hair that was now dyed black; thick black eyeliner highlighted those deep blue eyes and really stood out against her clear, pale skin; as did the obligatory piercings which had appeared in nose and face and, I suspected, one or two other places as well... And, of course, there was the piece de resistance; the large, fresh, black star-pattern tattoo behind her right ear which would probably, on its own, have been sufficient to achieve her likely intended purpose of enraging her father. I wasn't sure what it would do for her future employment prospects, mind, but I guessed she could worry about that later. YOLO and all that, right? "I would love to have seen their faces when she walked back through their door last week, looking like that," I said. "Dad, that's not a very... responsible thing to say." I smiled. She was right. "Hmm. Responsibility isn't my strong suit these days, as you well know." "Yeah, well," she said. "Apparently they didn't actually say anything. I think they were too stunned. Or maybe it was because Emily was with her." Yeah, I thought. That might just have had something to do with it. Bethan's new look didn't really tell the whole story of her little rebellious streak. In fact, it wasn't even the half of it. Emily was the other half. Emily wasn't a school friend at all; she was another first-year from Bethan's uni who'd come back with her to stay for a few days. As soon as I'd met her the day before, I could see straight away why the two of them had got together; they were both escaping the confines of their upbringing. Emily was more of an upper-class rebel-girl, though. Trustafarian was perhaps a rather uncharitable description, but it was probably what most people would think when they saw her fresh-faced combination of well-kept dreadlocks, expensive piercings and very-nicely-spoken confidence. That said, she was rather pleasant to look at, despite her clichéd surfer-hippie-punk-girl aesthetic. Very pleasant indeed, actually. Like Bethan, she was average in height and had a nice young-looking feminine figure. She possessed a round-ish, attractive, open face with sensual brown eyes, dark eyebrows and that unique pink, healthy-looking complexion which only seemed to exist in the upper echelons of British society. The right genes, I guessed. Whatever, it made her look young and... vital. She had a flat, neat nose and a broad mouth with full lips; all nicely-proportioned and youthful, and framed by what was probably her most striking feature; her very long, brown, dreadlocked hair. It ran almost all the way down her back and it was streaked with blonde highlights. She reminded me of those suspiciously-attractive 'alternative' girls that the cameramen always accidentally managed to focus on to when they were covering a music festival. She was very obviously the product of private education; she had that weird sense of... certainty about her which state-school girls – even well-brought-up ones like Kiera and her friends – never really developed. Yet for all that, she wasn't some horrible braying, vacuous posh girl. She was pretty funny, as it happened; a straight-talker, direct and to-the-point. I'd rather liked her. Of course, the fact that she'd been blatantly flirting with me the previous day might have had something to do with that. But still... I'd known she wasn't serious, of course. Well, at least I didn't think she had been. She was being a bit too obvious to be taken seriously. And, in any case, there was the small matter of her and Bethan being quite open about the fact that they were, well, rather more than just friends. Now that wasn't really surprising. After all, what better way for each of them to really upset the comfortable apple-carts of their respective upbringings; what more powerful way to outrage conservative parents – and impress old school friends – than to bring home a girlfriend to show off, rather than a boyfriend? I felt guilty for being so cynical. But, I was pretty certain that my assumptions weren't that far from the truth. Shaking my head briefly from those recollections of the previous day, I said to Kiera, "I hope you're not going to do the same when you go off to Cambridge next year?" "What, bring back a girlfriend? You'd have a problem with that?" She knew full well that wasn't what I'd meant, but she did like to play me, did my daughter. It was my turn to roll my eyes at her. "No, of course not... Although... I think Sam might have something to say, if you did." Sam was Kiera's boyfriend. They'd got together in the summer and were still going strong, despite him having gone away to uni up in Norwich. I liked him. He was a thoroughly decent lad. At least... I hadn't had to have him killed yet, anyway. "Oh, I don't know, Dad," she said, looking at me with a challenge. "My generation are very open-minded about that sort of thing... he might not mind sharing..." I suppressed a guffaw, and pretended to be serious. "Oh well, that's good to know, I suppose. I'll tell him you said that, shall I? Maybe over Christmas dinner with his parents?" A look of horror crossed her face. She was so easy to wind up. "Dad! I was only joking!" "Of course, dear daughter. And so was I." She looked relieved. I carried on. "Anyway, I wasn't on about... that. I meant the whole tattoos and piercings thing. I'm not sure your future career as an eminent professor of Archaeology is entirely compatible with a big spider web on your face, or whatever..." "Spider web, lol, as if!" she said. Talking in internet acronyms – pronounced as words – was another thing which had crept into her speech patterns. "No, I was just going to go old-school with some barbed wire round my neck and maybe a little borstal tear... you know, keepin' it classy." We both laughed. "I'm now even more worried, given that you appear to know what a borstal tear is..." I said. "Actually, Jadie told me. I think she's planning on one for herself... you know, a little Christmas surprise for you..." We laughed again. "So. Did you get her anything nice, yesterday?" Kiera asked. "Might have." Kiera smiled. "Aww. Like what?" I coughed. "Maybe things that a father wouldn't wish to discuss with his daughter. You know... small, pink, lacy things." "Eww, Dad. Sorry I asked," she said, making a sick face. "Although..." she continued, a cheeky smile cracking her face. "You do know she prefers black to pink... don't you?" I laughed, shaking my head. Such were the complications of conversation when your fiancée was your daughter's best friend. "And, moving swiftly on..." I said, smiling. "Does Jadie know that Bethan and Emily are coming over again? I know she was gutted to have missed them yesterday. " "Duh. Of course she knows." Kiera pulled out her phone from her leggings and waved it at me. "You know... she has one of these..." she said, rolling her eyes. I smiled. I wasn't some kind of technophobe luddite. But I hadn't grown up with the technology like Kiera and Jadie's generation had. For me it was an occasionally-useful add-on... but for them, it was completely integral to their lives. Which meant that it didn't seem to matter how hard I tried to get to grips with their always-connected way of living, something always managed to catch me out and make me look... old. "Oh right, yeah. Of course." Right on cue, Kiera's phone buzzed in her hand. "They'll be here in a minute," she announced. "See, that's the problem with all your technology." "What?" "There's no such thing as a surprise any more. Those things..." I nodded to her phone, "...they give you, I don't know, like, advance warning of everything. You all know exactly where you are; what you're doing; when you're going to arrive... you've lost all that... excitement of not knowing stuff, you know, like when the doorbell is going to ring." That little outburst evidently didn't warrant a response in my daughter's eyes. In fact, it earned me nothing more than a shake of the head and her trademark pitying look as, having heard a car pull up outside, she went through to the hall to open the front door. To be fair, if I'd have known what a massive, heart-stopping, fuck-off-great surprise was lying in wait for me later that afternoon... well, I'd probably have pitied my naively-dismissive view regarding the benefits of advance warning as well. Part 2: Good Girl's Back Kiera let the girls in; they came straight through into the living room. After the usual greetings – and a bit of token flirting from Emily with respect to my t-shirt and its tightness – they all launched straight into talking about a Christmas Eve party that they were trying to organise. I soon picked up that this meant they wouldn't be going to see Jadie immediately. They knew she would be working late in her admin job at the hospital on Christmas Eve – like Kiera she was saving hard for uni, and picking up the shifts nobody else wanted – so they'd all agreed that it would be a bit mean to go and see her and then start planning a party which she couldn't attend. I knew I wasn't going to see a lot of Jadie over Christmas, what with her parents being around and her working all sorts of odd shifts. So, seeing as Kiera and company were happily engaged in party planning, I decided I'd pop round to see Jadie there and then. Not the first time, a spur-of-the-moment decision would lead to trouble. But, well, I didn't know that then, of course. I couldn't exactly tell the others where I was going, given that Bethan and Emily were blithely ignorant of my relationship with Jadie. So, by means of an excuse, I announced that I would be walking over to the supermarket to get some milk. If the girls wanted to wait until I returned, I said, I could make them all a cup of tea again before they went next-door to Jadie's. Kiera looked at me strangely, given that she'd been planning on getting the milk later, but she didn't say anything. The other two seemed happy with my suggestion, and that was that. I had a quick piss in the downstairs cloakroom; slipped my coat and shoes on and went out through the front door. I glanced back to the living room window, just to check the girls were still engaged in conversation and not looking at where I was headed, then I nipped over the border which separated my driveway from next door and walked swiftly to the front porch. Jadie's parents – Keith and Sarah – were safely away staying with Keith's mother on a pre-Christmas visit; they wouldn't be back for another couple of days yet. Her brother Josh, as usual, was staying in his university digs rather than coming home straight away. Which meant Jadie had the house to herself. I rang the doorbell and waited, looking around their front garden. I saw the estate agents had finally updated the sign which was stuck in the lawn; it now read 'Sold.' I shivered, not just because it was chilly outside. That sign was a permanent reminder of a tricky conversation that was drawing ever-closer; the one where Jadie was going to tell her parents about... well, about me. She was adamant that she'd do it on her own. I wanted to be there to support her but, to be fair, the risk of Keith punching me to the ground and then beating me to death was not insignificant. Jadie wouldn't countenance putting me in harm's way. I was still trying to persuade her to compromise and do it over the phone once they had moved away, rather than in person before they left. Finally, the door opened. Jadie took one look at me and rolled her eyes. That wasn't quite the greeting I'd been hoping for. "The training isn't going very well, is it?" she said, making no move to open the door any further so I could get in from the cold. "Training?" I queried. I had no idea what she was talking about, although that wasn't particularly unusual. The age gap did make it feel like we were from different planets, sometimes. "Yes, training, Mr Baines," she said, with a slight note of exasperation. I smiled; she still called me 'Mr Baines' despite everything. She'd called me that for so long – ten years whilst I'd been merely her best friend's dad – that it just didn't seem right for her to suddenly start calling me Jim. Being a wanton pervert, I got a kick out of hearing her say it. But, I had to admit, it would sound... pretty abnormal to anyone else. Still, our entire relationship was well beyond the realms of normality. Whatever. I was clueless as to what she was on about with this training business. Evidently noting my confusion, she explained herself. "You know, me training you to act like you actually live in the twenty-first century, so that you message me instead of just rocking up on my doorstep and ringing the doorbell like it's the 1970s or something." Oh right. Yeah, that training. I smiled internally and was about to defend myself but her face changed, suddenly. She looked coy, and lowered her eyes. An Unexpected Entry "Although..." "What?" I asked. She looked at me. Unusually, our eyes were nearly level, with me still being a step down outside. Softly, she said, "Well, I suppose I do like surprises. Especially nice ones." "Do I count as a nice one?" By means of a reply, she grabbed hold of my jacket front and pulled me up the step and in through the door, kicking it shut behind us. As soon as we were inside and beyond the eyes of prying neighbours, she reached up, clamped her sweet lips on mine and forced her hot little tongue into my mouth. She kissed me hard, and I returned with equal vigour. I felt the familiar tightness in my chest; the massive jackhammer of emotion which still hit me as hard now as it had eight months ago, back when I'd first realised that I'd somehow managed to fall head-over-heels in love with my daughter's best friend. She broke off from the kiss and stepped back a couple of paces, looking me up and down. "Hey," she said. A smile formed on her lips. "Hey, yourself," I replied. This was our usual greeting. We both spent a long moment just looking at each other. Again, that was usual, whenever we met. I still needed a little while, each time, to try to process the fact that this incredible bundle of awesomeness was, somehow, actually attracted to me as well. And, well, there was also the fact that I just really loved looking at her. She was, after all, exceptionally nice to look at. Being at home, she didn't have much make-up on; just her usual touch of eyeliner and shadow. It wasn't like she needed any at all, to be fair; she was naturally so pretty. But it did a nice job of accentuating those wonderful eyes anyway. She had her hair tied up in loose bunches either side, which hung down over her shoulders and immediately got my pulse going. I shook my head gently, reminding myself again that I was a colossal pervert because, yes, hair in bunches did turn me on. That whole innocent schoolgirl thing just got me going. Not that she even was a schoolgirl any more, of course. I felt the usual pang of guilt, for the mild regret which accompanied that thought. She had still been at school at the time of our first encounter; it had been just before she'd sat her A-Levels at the end of Year 13. She'd been eighteen then. She was nineteen, now; she still just looked... so sweet. And knowing just how far from innocent she really was, underneath that look... that made my pulse race even more. I was still getting used to her new hair colour. She was no longer wearing the vibrant bottle-blonde look she'd maintained from her early teens until two weeks ago. Without warning, she'd had it dyed closer to her natural dark brown, with a whole load of different auburn shades streaked in it and then just the last few inches done blonde. I think the correct term was 'dip-dyed' but whatever, she looked completely different. I'd always loved her as a blonde; despite not being her natural colour it had suited her relentlessly positive nature and also fabulously contradicted her immense intelligence, especially when she'd combined it with a typical dumb-Essex-girl fake tan. There was something unutterably sexy about a girl who looked like that, talking about the finer points of biological sciences. But I had to admit the darker look was perhaps more in keeping with her... intellectual capacity. And it was definitely growing on me. A lot. She was wearing a long-sleeved, blue, flowery-patterned top which was one of those not-quite-a-dress sort of things which had seemingly become fashionable overnight. I'd bought it for her when we'd been shopping the previous day. The neckline plunged just enough to show her usual impressive cleavage, with a hint of black bra visible. She wore push-up bras pretty much all the time, these days. Not because she needed any artificial support, but because she knew it made it impossible for me not to sneak glances at her chest. She found that funny. Of course, it also meant that any other red-blooded male tended to sneak a few glances in as well, when she was out and about. When we'd first got together, she hadn't really liked that sort of attention. But she'd gradually seemed to get a bit less inhibited; a little more confident and she'd started to... enjoy it a little. Especially when I was with her in public. Although, given the still-secretive nature of our relationship, that still wasn't very often. Underneath the not-quite-a-dress she had on a pair of simple black leggings. As usual round the house, she was barefoot. Her legs were a lovely shape in the skin-tight material – they weren't fat but, because she was short, the curves of her calves and thighs were naturally more pronounced, giving her a sensual look which was infinitely preferable to the stick-like things masquerading as legs that so many girls of her age seemed to covet, with their devotion to 'thigh gap' or whatever. Jadie's little thigh-gap was spot on. There was no rubbing going on there – like I said, her legs weren't fat – but she didn't have one of those horribly exaggerated gaping chasms which skinny girls flaunted, that to my eyes just made them look bandy-legged. After she'd let me look her up and down – whilst she did the same to me, to be fair – she broke the silence. "So does this mean you're bored of entering from the rear, then?" she said, cheekily. Usually when I visited Jadie I didn't use the front door; I went in through the kitchen at the back of Keith and Sarah's house. I'd installed a gate in the fence between our back gardens years ago, back in the days when the girls would play outside together. These days it was a handy little shortcut for Kiera, Jadie and me to travel between our two houses. As I was supposed to be going to Morrisons, however, I'd had to use the front route this time. Of course, she was just playing it for the innuendo. Her sense of humour was as juvenile as mine. Another of the eleventy billion reasons why I was so in love with her. "Bored? Heh. That would be no. Some things in life a man could never get bored of." I deliberately looked at her chest. "I'm looking at a couple more such things, right now." She smiled and gave me a wiggle. Her eyes sparkled. "That's good to know." She frowned briefly. Her face was so expressive; she could never be a poker player. "But I thought you were coming round, like, later on?" "I am. But, well, I just happened to be going over to Morrisons to get milk for the girls' tea and I wondered if you wanted anything while I was there." She shook her head. "Lame. Try harder." I smiled. "Okay, yeah. Busted. I just wanted to see you." She laughed. "Better. Much better. But... Bethan and Emily are supposed to be coming over soon. After they missed me yesterday..." There was a hint of playful accusation as she said that. I smiled in response. "What? Are you suggesting that their company would be preferable to mine?" "Hmm. Let me think..." She pretended to consider my suggestion carefully, then reached up and put her arms around me. Pulling my face down to hers so she could whisper in my ear, she mimicked my earlier reply to her, "That would be no..." She released my head and I straightened up. She looked up at me, stroking my face gently. "Although, Emily is kinda cute with those dreads. Very pretty. I wonder if she looks as sweet in real life as she does on Instagram." "Steady on there," I laughed. "You do know her and Bethan, they're... you know... together." Jadie let go of me and stepped back, rolling her eyes sarcastically. "You don't say." Of course she knew that already. She would have been messaging Kiera – and Bethan herself – and if my suspicions about Bethan's rebellious motivations were correct, she wouldn't have kept her newly expanded sexuality a secret. "Does that... bother you?" she challenged me. "No. At least... it didn't until just then when you said Emily was cute. And pretty. And sweet." I put my hands on my hips and looked at her sternly. "Jadie Faversham, you're not... on the turn are you?" She snorted with laughter at that. I wasn't serious, of course and I knew Jadie hadn't been when she was talking about Emily. Okay, yes, Jadie had once confessed to having a one-on-one encounter with her friend Jess, the previous year. Hands in each others' knickers whilst watching porn. But I knew that had been a one-off; the product of a unique set of circumstances and Jadie's insatiable curiosity. God knows I had enough proof that she wasn't gay. And I knew she wasn't really bi, either. Perhaps surprisingly, given that I was a dirty old man, I was happy with that. Arousing as the thought of her getting it on with another girl might be – and yeah, I had nursed an erection all the way through that time when she'd described in intimate detail what she'd got up to with Jess – in reality the thought of anyone other than me giving her, you know, that sort of pleasure wasn't really something I felt comfortable about. Insecure? Undoubtedly. But I didn't really fancy the idea of sharing her with anyone; girl or boy. "On the turn," she repeated, laughing. "Just because I think a girl's cute, doesn't mean I've, like, caught the gay or anything. She is cute. Just... not as cute as you. Especially when you're doing that whole insecure thing which you're doing now... that's seriously hot." She twirled a finger round her hair, then fixed me with a serious look; her face changing completely. "How long before they're here?" she asked. Oh wow. Straight to business, this girl. I couldn't keep a smile from creeping across my face. "Ages, yet. They're with Kiera now, planning for Christmas Eve or something. I think that's going to take a while. Anyway, they're waiting for me to get back from the supermarket – I am actually supposed to be getting the milk – so they can have a cuppa and then come round here." "Kitchen table, then. Now. I mean, like, right now." She stated it so matter-of-factly. My smile broadened. Without waiting for a response, she took hold of both my hands and began to walk backwards, down the hallway towards the kitchen at the back of the house. She walked on tip-toes, bouncing backwards in her bare feet in a way which made her two-tone hair bounce delightfully in the bunches either side of her face. And also made that chest move in a fabulously alluring way. She looked up at me. I caught a familiar glint in her eye. Somewhat belatedly, I realised something which I should really have spotted before. I knew what that glint meant. Yeah; that particular sparkle meant we were in that monthly phase of hers when she was, pretty much literally, insatiable. In the first few months of our relationship, I hadn't really noticed it. To be fair, that was mainly because Jadie's sex drive was so insanely high anyway that it was a case of noticing the difference between her being really fucking horny and... really, really fucking horny. Kind of subtle. But, as time had gone on, I'd learned to spot that extra little gleam in her eye and the greater... urgency that arose for a few days each month. The urgency wasn't a problem, mind. It was the accompanying frequency which tended to be more of a challenge. We were through the kitchen door, now. She pulled out her phone which had been shoved somewhere down the back of her leggings, and dropped it on the table. I smiled. She wasn't as bad as some girls – probably not as bad as Kiera, really – but still, she really didn't go anywhere without it. I was about to make some snarky comment about her checking her messages whilst I ravished her from behind, but she pushed me back against the end of the table and reached up on tiptoe to kiss me. Our mouths met and, straight away, her tongue was pushing past my lips again and entwining itself around mine. I forgot about the phone. As always, she tasted sweet and citrusy. And, as always, she kept those inquisitive green eyes open; looking right into me as we kissed. She broke off and – without saying a word – dropped to her knees in front of me, making it clear how she wanted proceedings to begin. I smiled, and decided that I liked this time of the month. I liked it a lot. I shrugged off my jacket onto the table whilst she unbuckled my jeans and pulled them down to the floor. Delicately, with only the lightest of touches, she carefully manoeuvred my already-erect cock out from my boxers before sliding the underwear down my legs as well. Just the briefest touch of her fingers felt... electric. She left my t-shirt in place. She had a thing about leaving my top half clothed. Funnily enough, I had a thing about her going just 'bottomless' as well. For me, I think that was all about delayed gratification – drawing out the wonderful anticipation of seeing her magical chest. I didn't quite think it worked the same for her but, well, I wasn't going to complain if she wanted to just get straight to the action down below. She took my cock in her hand, more firmly this time. She moved it around a little, then slid back my foreskin fully with the gentlest of tugs between finger and thumb. I couldn't help myself; I grunted with pleasure and anticipation. Leaning away from me and continuing to move my erection around gently, it looked like she was... examining it. "I swear... that just looks nicer every time I see it," she breathed, grinning up at me. I smiled to myself. That wasn't the first time she'd said something like that. She really did have an amusingly weird attraction to my cock. From the very first time she'd set eyes on it – embarrassingly, when she'd caught me knocking one out in my bedroom – she'd always commented on how it was 'nice looking'. In fact, according to Jadie, mine was the best looking one she'd ever seen. God knows why she thought that. It wasn't like it was even particularly large; it was probably about average in girth and length. For Jadie, however, that was apparently a good thing as – based on some bad experiences with previous boyfriends – she'd told me before how she 'found big ones a bit scary'. Yeah. She really said that. Anyway, don't ask me what constitutes a good looking penis; I'm no expert. But, apparently I had one. Suddenly, she gripped me harder; wrapping her hot little fist around my shaft and slowly sliding back and forth. With the other hand she reached up and gently caressed my balls; wobbling them about playfully. Looking up at me, eyes wide, she put on a sexy, husky, innocent-little-girl voice. "I've been a good girl, Mr Baines. Please... please can I put it in my mouth?" Oh, wow. Good-girl's back, I thought. She hadn't done that little act for a while. I'd missed it. She amused me no end with the different personalities which she'd adopt during sex. Sometimes she was just herself; loving, passionate and intense. Sometimes she was super-eager; cutting out all the frippery and getting herself (and me) off in the shortest possible time. At other times, she'd slip into her porn-slut alter-ego. That was properly filthy; shockingly uninhibited and un-fucking-believably hot. And, every now and again, she'd do what she was doing now; her submissive 'good girl' act. That was even hotter. If you've never heard a girl begging you, in the sweetest voice imaginable, "Please... will you put in it my butt? Please. Put it in my butt for me..." then I swear to God you haven't really lived. Yeah, butt again. I had to admit, sometimes Americanisation did sound way better. Anyway, Jadie knew the effect this particular act had on me. Hell, she could feel the effect it had on me as my cock twitched in her hand, my erection straining at the ridiculously erotic sound of her voice. I reflected once again on what a massive pervert I was. And, once again, having recognised that fact, I decided not to care and just to enjoy her little act. I looked down on her, trying to make my face impassive but failing. I fought back a smile. She blinked a couple of times, exaggeratedly, then stuck out her bottom lip and made it tremble. Her begging face. "Please, Mr Baines. I really want to. Please can I?" she breathed. I waited a beat, just enjoying the sight of that unbearably cute little face looking up at me and then relented. "Oh, go on then. But only if you promise to carry on being a good girl afterwards..." "Oh yes, Mr Baines. I do promise. You won't have to... punish me. Thank you," she said, giving my balls a gentle squeeze. And with that, she kept hold of my shaft with her right hand and delicately licked the underside of my glans, probing the sensitive spot underneath with her tongue and immediately sending shivers of pleasure down my erection and right up my spine. She noted my reaction and smiled up at me, pleased. As always, I wondered how this could be happening. It had been eight months now since our first encounter but I still hadn't really come to terms with the fact that this utterly stunning, gorgeous little creature wanted to do these things with me. I felt her lips slide over the end of my cock. The heat from her mouth was predictably intense. And, as always, those curious, intense green eyes never left mine. Whenever we were intimate together, she almost never closed her eyes; only occasionally when she lost herself completely in what we were doing would she lower her eyelids. I loved that eye-contact. Loved it. I put my hands on the table behind me to balance and bent my knees slightly, to make it easier for her. My butt was resting against the edge of the table as she began to work away on me. I saw her open her knees, then slip her left hand away from my balls and down into her leggings. This wasn't unusual; she could rarely resist masturbating when she had me in her mouth. I couldn't really see what she was doing – her fabulous chest obscured that as I looked down – but her left arm began moving rapidly and rhythmically as she started to work on herself. For as long as I'd known her, she'd always been a 'hard and fast' girl when it came to pleasuring herself. Her mouth slid up and down the end of my cock, as she continued to use her hand on my shaft as well. She really knew what she was doing. I closed my eyes briefly, remembering the first time she'd engaged in this particular act with me. I'd been sitting on a sofa in her brother Josh's bedroom. Obviously, Josh hadn't been there at the time. I'd been surprised by Jadie's level of skill – blown away, as it were – and had reached the conclusion that there really was nothing the internet couldn't teach you these days. That conclusion hadn't been entirely accurate. There had been some practice involved, too. Previous boyfriends, for sure; that hadn't gone too well, apparently. But also the sort of practice that involved learning to suppress her gag reflex with the aid of a cock-shaped vibrator named Mr Purple. A vibrator which had originally been given to her as a present by Josh's girlfriend, Briony, back when Josh still lived at home. A present given to her after Briony realised that Jadie had been masturbating whilst hiding in a cupboard, spying on Briony and Josh having sex... Yeah, that story had been an interesting insight into modern teenage life, alright. I looked down at Jadie; a little voyeur who was doing a lot more than just watching now; her mouth full of cock and her fingers still working hard inside her knickers. I took in those naturally-plump, full lips – no lipstick or gloss today – sliding over my cock. I saw the gentle pink flush of arousal which was building prettily on her cheeks; saw again that lustful glint in those amazing green eyes. Christ. Was there any more... life-affirming sight in the world than a pretty girl going down on you? I decided there wasn't. Doctors should prescribe it on the NHS for depression; it'd be a guaranteed cure, for sure.