Summer of Amy's Dad

"God, I'm going to come so hard, so fucking hard..." David's voice was fevered, as though his own performance amazed him.

"In my mouth..." She felt barely conscious in her own throes, but it came back to her, something it had occurred to her to do for him, something she wanted to do. "You want to come in my mouth?"

"Christ, yes..." He pulled out and wrenched her up by the hair, wanking his bulged, purpling cock the rest of the way, right in front of her face. "Suck on it, quick," he told her, and her lips opened to capture his imminent surge.

From the other end of the room there was the sound as of someone's tread, and it occurred to Ali as her mouth reached, that she had not checked, not absolutely, that her door was locked. Her eyes glanced past David's rampant organ... and lit on Amy. The sixteen-year-old was wandering into the room as though drawn inexorably by what she had heard from the doorway, by sounds she could not accept were real. Ali drew back in sharp terror from the twitching head of the girl's father's cock. She had a split-second to take in her friend's look of dawning horror, before she was blinded by the splatter of projectile cum against her face.

Thought was all but erased as David's furious hot load hosed into her, his voice crying out raw and guttural as his orgasm burst, spurt on spurt, all over her helpless visage. It seemed a vast inundation, exploding in her eyes and against her nose, firing salty into her open mouth. But some fragment of her mind clung to the dreadful truth that Amy was witnessing this obscene act and all its messy consequences.

The sticky offering subsided and frantically she wiped the glutinous mess from her eyes, blinking through the stinging sensation. David was staring in disbelief over his shoulder, the last of his spunk still oozing from his cock. Amy just stood, horribly transfixed by the vision of her naked father, his semen splashed copiously all over the face, dribbling from the mouth of her new best friend. Then with no more than an appalled whimper, she turned and fled the room.

"Amy..." David remained frozen in a half-turn for a moment, before staring down at himself as though this were a waking nightmare. Ali felt it too - like a hideous dream of public exposure. "Oh my God," he was muttering. "Oh fuck, what have I done?" His voice rose to a pitch of anguish. For a moment his eyes rested on his own sticky clinging delivery all over Ali's face and tits. "This is so fucked up..."

He grabbed pieces of clothing, began to struggle desperately into them. "Got to find her..." Ali was snapped out of her stupor by his actions and she ran to the bathroom, heart pounding with the horrific implications of what had just occurred. She scrubbed herself free of sperm at the basin, as though that would do some good. By the time she had finished, David was rushing out. He paused briefly to look at her, as she stood naked and dripping, and went to say something - but words failed.

"Just go catch her up," Ali said simply, and watched him rush out to track down his daughter. To find her before she got to Melanie. Though what, wondered Ali, could he possibly say?

She dressed rapidly in jeans, tee-shirt and trainers, practical unsexy clothes. Then she cleaned up the room frantically, tidied away the evidence after the event. The futility of her actions crashed in on her and she dropped to the sofa, face in hands and almost weeping. Her holiday dream, her fiery passionate affair, turned all to ashes in an instant. She scanned the situation wildly in her mind, following stupid, useless cul-de-sacs of possible action. There was nothing she could do here, fuck all to remedy the disaster she had just helped create. She had to get out. Out of the hotel, the resort, the whole damned island. Leave poor David and his family and this entire fucked mess behind. It seemed the act of a coward, but in truth what other option had she?

She phoned reception and asked them to book a taxi to Larnaca Airport. Her voice trembled, she could hardly string words together, make herself understood. She had to leave immediately, she explained, something had happened. No, nothing to do with the hotel, just something personal. "Please, just book the taxi, get it here as soon as possible!" All her stuff she piled into her suitcase carelessly. She could not remember afterwards how she had made it all fit, minus the hairdryer, which she had to leave behind. Hell, what did it matter? Clutching suitcase and shoulder bag, travel documents at the ready, she made her tentative path to elevator, then reception, scouting about all the time for those she now had to avoid.

At the hotel desk, waiting for news of her taxi, her worst fears were realised. "Ali?" She whirled around, startled to see Melanie. Amy's mum was staring at her curiously. "Ali, what's the matter?"

"I'm... I'm..." Total blank. No idea what to say. "Aren't you... Aren't you with Amy?"

"No, she rushed ahead. I met Cheryl Richardson and we went for a quick drink. I think Amy was more interested in a night out with you than the Tombs. Ali, what's wrong? What, you're leaving?"

A further moment's stunned silence. Then: "It's my dad." The thought came as though from nowhere. "He's ill. Really ill. Mum just called. I've got to go home. I... I... I'm sorry..."

"Sweetheart! Don't be sorry!" Melanie overflowed with concern. "You poor poor thing. Is there anything I can do?"

"No, no, it's okay... There's a taxi outside. I've got to go..."

"Of course you do. Come here, darling." David's wife wrapped her arms around Ali, who hugged back miserably, blinking away tears. She realised she had spent days gathering reasons to dislike this woman, all of them bogus. Before she could protest, Melanie had taken hold of her suitcase. "Let me help you with this." There was no preventing it, so she allowed Amy's mum to help her outside to where the taxi had just pulled up. "I'll explain everything to Amy," Melanie assured her, gripping both her shoulders. "She'll be in touch, you can be sure of that. You just get on your way, alright? Go be with your family."

"Thanks," Ali gulped, and turned away, tears rolling. The driver was already lifting her case into the back. A desperate thought struck her and she pulled her phone from her bag, pausing just one heart-thudding moment before calling David. As it rang three, four, five times she wondered where he might be, if he was with Amy, if his phone were on silent... Then the call was answered and Amy's voice poured out of the earpiece like Ali had never heard it before.

"Ali? What the hell do you think you're doing calling? Stay away from my dad! Stay the fuck away from all of us, you poisonous bitch!"

"Amy... Amy, I'm sorry... It just happened, don't blame your dad, it's all my fault... Please say nothing to your mum, it won't help..."

"Don't you tell me what to do! You've no fucking right! And you're damned right it's your fault!" The girl's voice was virtually shrieking with tearful rage. "I thought you were my friend and... and all the time you just wanted this, you just used me, used me to... to... You've ruined everything, you evil, horrible, backstabbing..."

Ali heard a tussle over the phone and David's voice pleading, desperate in the background. "Amy, that's enough, that's enough, please love..." He had wrested the apparatus to himself. "Ali, I'm sorry, I'm so sorry, I've got to go..."

"David, listen, please..." She had to try and salvage what she could. "I spoke to Melanie, she doesn't know. I told her my dad's sick and I'm flying home... I didn't mean this to happen, David..."

Amy's voice was in the background, near-hysterical. "Daddy, don't talk to her! Don't even talk to her..."

"Sorry Ali, sorry... I've got to go."

The call ended, leaving Ali in ruins - as much from Amy's searing hatred as from the thought she was leaving David behind. She sobbed to the airport and could scarcely stop during her flight-booking. Then an all-night wait on standby, during which gloomy numbness set in. And finally flight BA233, the long-haul home. Or at least it seemed long, interminably so.

The plane's battle with turbulence following her exchange with the flight attendant barely registered in Ali's mind. An entire ten-days' saga of secrecy, excitement and lust reeled through her mind as they were buffeted about, all her memories tainted by those final awful moments. The terrible responsibility for what she had done to Amy and David, probably to Melanie, settled on her like lead. But when the journey smoothed out and the seatbelt signs plinked off, she still went to the toilet cubicle and frigged herself silly to a kaleidoscope of erotic images, remembering David's cock frantic inside her and that terrible aghast look on Amy's face. She cried and cried even as she came and it was some sort of release.

As the plane taxied down a Heathrow runway she checked her phone and found a brief text from David: Don't blame yourself, darling. All my fault. Take care x. It was sweet of him, he was such a sweet, darling man, and with the swell of affection came an accompanying stab of pain. But she didn't believe the words, not for a moment. The feelings which still clamoured within her were the reason for all this. Why had she teased him, why had she thought it was so grown up? To flirt with and to court what could only ever have ended in disaster. She wondered exactly what degree of devastation she had left behind.

Her tread was heavy as she walked from the fuselage and down the steps into watery English sunshine. The flight had landed safely, but Ali's summer adventure had crashed and burned. She longed for sleep and then to sob out the whole sorry tale to Sara, the only person she felt she would ever tell. What a complicated business, she thought wearily, to be human, to be adult. So fraught with contradictions and overwhelming urges. And what an amazing, scary, terrible thing was lust.

Ali Fisher walked into the beginnings of her new life feeling saddened and broken and genuinely, painfully grown-up.