Filling In For Beth Part 5 free porn video

Thank you for the kind reviews so far. These are the first stories I've ever revealed to anyone and the kind and helpful responses are what give me the confidence to continue. And thank you, thank you, thank you to Fictionmania as well for providing such a safe and encouraging place. I started this tale at the end so I would have a target to arm for. It turns out that convincing my characters to proceed toward that target in an orderly fashion is much more difficult than expected. Sometimes they want to double back and even contradict themselves! There are more half- written scenes and rambling descriptions from Morgan's life, waiting to be stitched together. That's the slow part. Hope you enjoy this part. Filling in for Beth - Part 5 "You're not going to wear that," I said a little too loudly. What I wanted to say was, 'You look like a prostitute!' but Suzy was right there watching. Instead I added, "It's freezing cold outside!" "Gaaa! You're worse than daddy!" Rachael shouted back. She flipped her hair, turned and stomped out of the kitchen. The tiny boy-shorts and the wedges made her legs look, well, let's just say too long for my taste and Tom would agree. The top was just as tiny and tight. "What could she be thinking?" I asked Susan. She shrugged and jammed a spoon full of cereal into her mouth, so exactly like Tom it's creepy. Her golden hair hung down on both sides, threatening to touch the cereal bowl. My hands itched to pull it back out of her face but I didn't. She was dressed appropriately for the weather in jeans and a sweater and sometimes you take what you can get. "That's how girls dress," she said with another shrug. Hair waved dangerously near the bowl. There was milk on her chin. "When have you seen girls dressed like that?" I asked, waving a hand at the doorway. "Umm, at the mall?" she replied sarcastically. She rolled her blue eyes, sat up and, finally, pushed the hair back on one side. "And everywhere else, except for at school. You'll see." "It's freezing outside," I repeated, as if anyone listened to me. Susan shrugged again, a smaller, long haired version of Tom, dismissing all women as inscrutable. What was I going to do with her when she started, you know, getting like her older sister? There was plenty of time to worry about that I hoped. Tom wondered in, dressed to go out in khaki slacks and a thick flannel shirt that suggested he'd just rolled up his sleeves to chop some firewood (It comes in bundles from the store.) The neat creases in pants and shirt told the true story to anyone who could see past his thick forearms or rugged chin. His eyes never left me as he walked behind Suzy and kissed her on the head. "You're not going to wear that?" he asked. Out of Suzy's sight he cupped his hands around huge imaginary breasts and knitted his brows deeply in question. He could only be referring to one thing. The cardigan couldn't hide what was already there. What did he expect? "I thought we were getting dressed up?" he added. "Yeah!" Suzy chimed in, pointing her spoon at me. "You said I have to try on dresses today, so why don't you have to dress up?" "That's because you need a new dress. Anyway, this is what I wore last time and nobody said anything." I replied. It was a little white lie. I wore the same sneakers, beige polyester day dress and gray cardigan to the mall one time. The tights and hat were different and I only ran into the side entrance of the mall to pick up a package from the service department but nobody said anything or even looked at me weird. So basically the truth. "You look like an old lady," he said with a shake of his head. "You should wear that gray dress with the ruffles." he fluttered his fingers around his hips. The dress he was talking about was actually steel blue and of course he would like it. It was tight in the waist and thighs and the ruffles gave me the illusion of hips so that, in certain poses, one might think I had an hourglass figure. I know this because of all the time I spent in front the mirror that night. Is it wrong to ogle your own self? "That's too dressy for a trip to the mall," I said quickly. "You look like Mrs. Carter," Susan said, late to the joke. "Don't point with your spoon, please. It's not polite," I said quickly, for both their benefits. "Does Mrs Carter wear a ball cap to school?" Tom asked, ignoring my message with a wink and a smirky grin. Suzy turned to watch her dad pour a glass of juice. She didn't get his little joke. "No. She's the librarian. Besides, we're not allowed to wear hats at school," she told him seriously. The school dress code disallowed a host of things: Hats, exposed knees, naked shoulders or midriffs, certain hair styles and even open-toed shoes. The list was two pages long. Which, of course, is why girls like Rachael had to push the boundaries. Even makeup was outlawed but every morning while dropping the girls off I saw girls dabbing their faces in front of mirrors, Rachael included. I bought the products for her. "Morgan's hair is lots prettier than Mrs Carter's though," my sweet angel added to fill the silence. I smirked back at Tom. "Your hair looks fine, what I can see of it," he said with a laugh. He waved the juice glass at me. "But you can do better than thaaa..." A heavy drop rolled over the edge, hung in the air for a moment then landed with a splat on the floor. Shii..oot!" Tom growled, then he took a long step toward the sink. He pointed at me with his free hand. "You go get dressed. I'll clean this." "I'm already dressed," I said weakly. That's when Rachael decided to reappear. She had on a navy peasant skirt and red blouse that covered a lot more but not her bra straps or her feet, still naked in the wedges. No doubt the short-shorts were hidden underneath it all. She stopped in the doorway. "You're not going to wear that, are you?" she asked, cutting me off before I could challenge her outfit. Tom and Susan broke out laughing. So the decision was finally forced upon me: What to do about Beth's boobs? So far they'd been relegated to few nights in a week when Tom was home and we dressed up. They had never been out. I lost the vote three against one. + Cold air wafted up the skirt the instant my feet touched ground, chilling my inner thighs, just like I said it would. I pulled the thin wrap tighter and turned to Tom. "Don't take too long," I said nervously. He grinned. "Quit stalling. You look fine." The dress is wool, with is supposed to be warm, but that meant the tights wouldn't work. That and the wedges, because of Rachael, meant I needed nude pantyhose, so yeah, I was freezing in an instant. The door closed and the minivan roared away behind me. I pulled down the skirt, shielded my chest with Beth's bulkiest leather purse stuffed with enough supplies for a week and tottered toward the doorway. Rachael held the door for me and I scooted into the warmth. Susan was already fifty feet away. The slap of her sneakers echoed down the corridor. To the left, a woman's beauty parlor, or whatever you call them, wafted that weird chemical smell out its wide open doors. The sign flashed bright red letters, "Eve's Lounge." The perfect name for a titty bar, right? But I could see the young women with scissors behind chairs and a row of hair driers and such. Two heavily made up women chatted at the front desk. They perked up and smiled expectantly. "Please don't wander off," I said to Rachael, gripping her arm. It was supposed to be an order but came out in a croak. She watched her sister's retreating back for a moment, sighed heavily then hooked her arm in mine. "At least until Dad get's here," she said. "But let's go, OK?" We set out in our tall shoes, my breasts leading the way. An older couple approached and I watched the man for a reaction. He was looking right at them, exactly what I'd feared. The woman appraised Rachael. They passed on. We clomped by a kiosk selling jewelry and the girl merely glanced our way then went back to her nails. Two small boys burst out a restaurant door, dodged past us and ran the same direction Suzy had gone. A moment later the parents emerged and set off briskly after their kids, rolling their eyes and smiling as they passed. "You're lucky. Girls are so much easier," the pretty woman said wearily. Ahead of us, Susan leaned on a handrail and watched the boys sprint past as if she might take off and run them down any second. Her ponytail quivered. That would have been an interesting race. The young couple broke into a trot and disappeared into a crowd of shoppers after the boys. We made it to the rail safely and looked up out across the brightly lit atrium. More people passed, occupied with their own lives. Nobody pointed or laughed. "So, are we ready to get started?" Tom's voice boomed behind me. A big hand clapped on my shoulder and squeezed reassuringly. Up close, he seemed less tall than usual, because of the shoes. "Can we go to the arcade first?" Suzy asked excitedly, jumping and clapping. Rachael stood a short distance away, adjusting her blouse to show more skin and pretending she didn't know us. So she lost her vote. Tom and Suzy took the lead, I hide in their wake and Rachael trailed behind, separate but close. Outside the arcade a group of beefy teenaged boys spotted us. One of them pointed and heads swiveled our way. As we got closer they began to move toward us, jostling one another for position. I stopped, unsure what was happening and Rachael took my arm, suddenly friends again. "You're Coach Hannover, right? When we going to win one?" The tallest boy shouted. He hitched up his drooping jeans with one hand and wiped his mouth nervously with the other. His friends continued to nudge and whisper. They were all nervous I realized. "When I get the offensive line in shape. We'd doing some rebuilding," Tom answered in what sounded like a practiced speech, because, turns out, it was. The crowd of boys all nodded knowingly. "Yeah, rebuilding," their shaggy heads all agreed. They didn't look nearly as big beside Tom and none of the others were bold enough to speak while he shook the tall boy's hand and told them all to "come out to the game this week." he finally waded forward with Susan bravely at his heel and the boys parted. In a moment we would be separated. I grabbed Rachael's arm and we slipped through the gap before it closed. Thankfully, the boys only had eyes for Tom. Tom's celebrity was the one thing I hadn't prepared for. Rude remakes, evil glares and mumbled names, maybe some pointing and laughing, that's what I expected. Who would have guessed this? At home, Tom is my goofy old buddy, the girls dad, Beth's widower and, frankly, not always the sharpest tool in the shed IMO. Out in the world, a place I rarely saw back then, he was something else, Coach Hannover. Besides being tall and fit, and not too bad looking I guess, his name and face were apparently well know in town. It shocked me. The scene replayed itself a few times that day. Rachael showed me how to stand off to one side, away from the spotlight. He didn't introduce us. Susan stood with her dad, holding his hand protectively and issuing clipped answers to questions, meant to let fans know they were intruding. Tom took it all in stride, the praise as well as a few unfavorable comments regarding his current record. He was a professional through it all. I began to see Tom and his occupation in a new light. + "Click!" That's all the sound it made. There was a slight sting and the girl was already moving to my other ear. After all the fuss I made when Rachael suggested it, getting my ears pierced was a little disappointing actually. When the 'certified piercing technician' was done I could feel a pinch and the weight of the studs but that was already fading. I was busy watching the scene outside the store and totally missed what she was saying about keeping ears clean. Tom stood surrounded by a half dozen young boys, about Susan's age. They swirled around his legs, shoving and punching one another for no reason at all that I would ever understand. A pair of stout, middle-aged dads engaged him in animated conversation. Cargo pants and Hawaiian shirts, size XXL, stretched taut around their middles. The arm motions suggested they were either replaying a football game or reenacting the time they both masturbated giants. Tom struck his coach posed, feet apart, arms behind his back, and nodded so, maybe it was a football story. Susan stalked my way with a look on her face that could have curdled milk. She leaned against me, looked out the window and stuck out her tongue. "Boys are stupid." "Why don't you sit here with me for a minute," I said, standing up and ushering her into the seat. She hugged me around the waist and rested her head on my chest. They were the perfect height. She was getting tired, like all of us. Behind us, the store clerk was putting away her tools and smiling at us. She was about my age, plump with a pretty round face and about a dozen piercings in various places. She nodded her head vigorously in agreement with Suzy's assessment of boys and repeated the words under her breath. "Boys are stupid." How do you explain this stuff to a girl? I had no clue. In full 'mom' mode, I blurted out to Susan, "Don't call people stupid, sweetie." Both girls ignored me. While we watched, a pair of high school girls walked by, giggling and giving Tom sly glances from behind their blonde hair. Susan was right. They were dressed much like Rachael had been, in tiny tops and short- shorts that revealed their plump round thighs and flat young bellies. Push-up bras made their small breasts sit up high and firm. The dads lost their animation and swiveled to watched the pair in an absurd parody of nonchalance. The small boys continued to fight, oblivious to the disturbance. "Where are their mother's?" I asked Suzy, possibly asleep in the chair. "How in the world did they even get here without coats?" There was a laugh behind me and Rachael was there, watching the scene in the window. "Now you sound like mom," she said quietly, bumping me playfully with her shoulder. A new pair of hoops dangled from her ears and her lips were a deep, almost black, red. With the outfit, she looked like a carefree gypsy girl. She pushed my hair back and I showed my recent addition. "Pretty," was all she said. The pair of girls continued slowly by. The word 'JUICY' crawled across the round butt of one girl in bold pink letters. I used to like those shorts on a hot girl and suddenly I hated them. There was one last glance back at the ogling men, one last giggle and the crowd swallowed them. I watched for Rae's reaction. She was watching the men who were grinning and nudging each other, exactly like boys. Tom towered over them with his back to us. What I would have given to see his face. "Yes, I see what you mean," she reluctantly admitted. "Are you happy now?" Yes, I was happy. Too happy to speak for a moment. When we came out we were all accessorized with new bead necklaces and bracelets in Mardi Gras colors with matching tissue flowers pinned in our hair. My arms jingled happily. We all matched. The group of men dispersed as if up to no good. Both men spotted us and mumbled something furtively, which caused Tom to turned. The young boys perked up like gophers. "There's my girls," Tom shouted happily, glad to be done with fans I suspect. The men slapped Tom's arm awkwardly and took off as if late for an appointment. The flock of boys sensed the movement and surged around the men, leading them quickly away. Susan ran to him like it had been a month and he picked her up easily, scanning Rachael and me with a curious look the whole time. Rachael took my arm and pretended not to see him. The neck of her blouse was pulled up to cover her shoulders and bra straps though. We set off to toward the last store. He never even noticed the holes in my ears as far as I could tell. So, somewhere that day I passed through a veil and became one of the girls in Tom's eyes. What to make of that? Actually, it settled a few questions in my mind. He wasn't unhappy with the changes I'd made, at least. And apparently I could wander around in public all day in a form fitting dress and large breasts and nobody would even notice, not with Mr Big Shot nearby anyway. That's a good thing, right? We never did get a dress for Susan that day. + It should be obvious by now that I was in love. Hopelessly, head over heels, lost in the clouds. I woke up in the morning because the girls needed me and stayed up late at night worrying over them, drying a favorite pair of jeans for Suzy or pressing a skirt for Rachael or, I'm ashamed to admit, putting the finishing touches on a school project. Every morning I sat in the car until they disappeared inside the private school - A dark, graceful heron orbited by a golden tailed comet. In the evening they raced to the car with the excitement of freed prisoners and they were mine for a few hours. Of course there were problems and arguments - We're talking about two young girls, one on the edge of teenage-hood, and a supposed nanny with zero experience and a shocking inability to say 'no.' There were chores and homework to be done most nights and, as I've mentioned before, hair and skin to take care of every day, for all of us. Even Rachael, the perfect student usually, needed a nudge sometimes. I wasn't just in love with the girls though. There's a term for it - Pink fog. Rachael and I were both in a pink fog for at least a month. Or maybe two months - Who knows? I was in a pink fog! Once I began to really explore Bethany's closet I couldn't stop trying things on just to see how they felt. Rachael would join me sometimes on those long fall nights when Tom was out late and we just had fun with clothes, learning the names and trying on different combinations. Think flowing, summer dresses with wide belts, bold makeup, floppy hats and Rachael clomping around the house in overlarge shoes. It was fun. Sometimes the laughter and clomping even drew Susan close enough to capture. Beth's vast array of shoes would never fit my feet unfortunately but a little search online often turned up something similar in my size. Beth's beautiful pumps, wedges or espadrilles, or sometimes a skirt or dress, was carefully cleaned and stored away for the future and the new item went in it's place, since my own closet was tiny. It's not like I went overboard, just an item here or there. The girls were growing so fast, and not just in height, so they always needed new clothes too. Even Suzy needed new jeans and sneakers. Tom set up the household account in my name. So how much money does a football coaches make you might ask? Let me tell you: a lot! When I finally dove into the ledgers and took over the bills for the house it became clear why Tom and Beth would live in such a conservative place - for the money. The ledgers and the brand names on everyone's clothes told me where all the money went. There were columns for 'toiletries' and 'Jordane!' (An upscale salon in the next town.) Honestly, I thought the numbers were codes of some kind at first. Let's just say that the amounts women spend on hair and everything else is shocking and I'm truly grateful that Bethany spelled it out in such detail, otherwise I would have felt guilty about the expenses. + "What the fuck are you wearing?" He settled back on the bed, thank god. I clicked the door shut and breathed a sigh of relief. I was fully prepared if he wanted to 'help' me out of this outfit, but it would have been terribly awkward. I stood up tall in my trusty wedges, tried to smooth a skirt that wasn't there and settled for adjusting the band of the skin tight boy shorts. They're cut for someone with a little more hip. "Do you like it?" I asked, executing a stupid little curtsy. My legs looked about a mile long and felt very naked without hose. His eyes fixed on my crotch and his nose wrinkled. Even though I knew perfectly well there was nothing to see down there my confidence faded. I squeezed my thighs together tightly, just in case, and pulled on the front of the little cropped football jersey. From where he sat he could probably see the bottom of my bra cups, by design. My middle felt naked too but at least I couldn't see that. "Not particularly," he said, still searching my waist area for something. Finally he looked up. At my chest. "It's not very, umm, dressed up, is it?" Actually, it's ridiculous how long it took me to get dressed in this outfit. I'd tucked and untucked three times before it was perfect - gaff, panties and shorts - and still there were panty lines if I bent over. There had been some unpleasant, last second dry-shaving. With the forms I couldn't wear a plunging neckline or pushup bra, hence the cute cropped jersey. The whole outfit covered more than Rachael wanted to wear for our trip to the mall in fact, but I wasn't allowed to talk about her in here. "You liked these shorts on those high school girls pretty well. At the mall?" "What high school girls?" he asked. Was he kidding? "You know? The two blonde chicks at the mall, in shorts like these?" I turned side to side so he could see the shorts better and flipped my hair back so he would know I was talking about hair. I know, stupid reasons, but it was something to do. His face was blank. "You were talking to a couple of fat dads? With a bunch of boys running around like crazed squirrels?" "You mean my fans," he said, correcting me. "Right, your fans. You were addressing your fans when these two girls walked by dressed kind of like this. Remember?" I posed and imitated a giggle. "You guys drooled all over yourselves. I thought I'd try out the look, see if I liked it." "I don't remember drooling over any high school sluts," he said, scratching his head and reaching for his laptop - a sure sign he was bored with the topic. The last word made me flinch. "But if they dressed like that, what did they expect?" That answered my main question anyway. I inched toward the vanity seat. "Put on something else," he ordered suddenly, the same way he speaks to the girls. "And get me a big glass of ice water. I'm going to be up late working," he added, the way he might talk to his secretary. One hand typed on the laptop, the other held a clipboard, his eyes darted back and forth. A nuclear blast couldn't faze him. I stuck out my tongue the way Susan taught me, then went into the closet and closed the door. One last inspection in the mirror and and I couldn't help wondering, fleetingly, what the shorts would look like with large pink letters in back. Yeah, that would be sort of fun, in a vary scary sort of way. His words, "High school slut," rang in my ears. I stepped out of the closet boldly in a soft pink nightgown that covered everything from neck to knees. It was lined with warm flannel too. The short-shorts were still on underneath to spite Tom. He worked furiously without looking up and I busied myself; ice water, picking up laundry, experimenting in the mirror with my face and waiting to see if he had anything to say about the nightgown. He paused for a drink of water, spotted me watching and rolled his eyes. "Jesus! Are you that jealousy of some random mall sluts?" He asked, exasperated. The word surprised me, again. "Don't say ... What? NO! Jealous? No, why would you say that?" Honestly, I was totally surprised by the idea but it came out in a confused stammer. He cocked his head, lifted his eyebrows and pursed his lips. "Now you're being silly," he said. "Why don't you go sleep downstairs in the guest room tonight, I'm going to be working late." So I was dismissed, to go sleep in my own room, as if I ever slept anywhere else. Was this a Beth thing? Did he make his wife sleep downstairs when he was displeased? What a jerk, right? I stewed for a minute, watching him work and considering how to attack the issue. I had to stand up for myself somehow, and for Beth too. "Umm, Tom. Uuuumm. You're being kind of weird. Could we please talk about it?" His shoulders slumped. He pinched the bridge of his nose, squeezed his eyes shut a few times then looked through his bushy eyebrows. "First off, never insult fans. Hell, Beth understood that long before me." That's not what I was expecting so I just nodded dumbly. "Second, look at yourself before calling anybody weird. You're doing an amazing job, seriously, I can't believe what a great job you're doing with.." he trailed off, unwilling to mention the girls. "We make a great team. But considered what I'm trusting you with? I'd think you show me a little trust back. Like in here." He gestured around the room. I wanted to protest. He was talking about trust when we needed to be discussing his late wife or maybe hot pants on teenaged girls or what the fuck I was doing in his room in a nightgown. It was confusing. "And last, no, we can't talk about it. Go to bed." He was working again. The door clicked shut and I stood there for a few minutes, listening. The TV came on, there was a whistle. A pause and a whistle. Another pause and the same whistle. He was working, reviewing a game second by second. Working late like he said. So what did we learn tonight? Should I be chastened because he threw me out of his room? No, it's certainly weird that he would do that to his wife but I was testing boundaries and it's not like I wasn't going to be leaving at some point anyway. It was clear wouldn't discuss anything I wanted to talk about, not in his room anyway, so it had been a fruitful test in that sense too. On the plus side, it had been a good speech about trust and the warm night gown passed muster too, for future reference on a cold night. He didn't even really seem to mind the interruption on a non- dress-up night. Think about it. He could have been in the middle of a number of activities when I walked in without knocking. I shucked off the gown in the hall and descended the stairs brazenly, dressed like a mall slut one more time. What would that be like, if the lights were on and there were people standing at the bottom of the stairs, watching? What was it like for those girls at the mall, all those heads turning their way with all those appeasing looks? Rachael would want to test that power soon and Tom's head was going to explode every time. So he got to be the bad guy there. + It happened again. I dreamed I was on a boat or maybe a raft, rocking gently on the open sea. It tilted on a wave, farther and farther, like it might roll over. I clawed at the covers and kicked my feet, tangled in seaweed. A firm hand gripped my shoulder. Was I being rescued? I came awake suddenly when his rough beard pressed into my neck making slobbering sounds. He was nuzzling me! I pushed him away and struggled down the bed, much like before except this time I didn't scream and he didn't cry. He relaxed into my place on the bed and nuzzled my pillow while I worked my way around the bed and slipped a housecoat around my short nightgown. The room smelled like stale beer and man sweat. "Tom, come on buddy," I coaxed, keeping my voice low. "You have to get into your own bed." It took a few tries before he rose slowly and swayed by the bed. His eyes were open, glassy and confused. As he turned, a providential beam of moonlight highlighted his groin where a raging boner tented his 'happy face' boxers. His white dress shirt framed the obscene thing. I would have laughed if it hadn't been pointed straight at me. He flinched, stood up straighter and one hand went to the front of his pants to make an adjustment. "Come on Tommy. Just follow me," I said sternly, backing out of the room. I didn't want to touch his hand. He followed me through the dark house to the stairs where I stepped aside and pointed. "Go to bed," I whispered. He stepped close to peer into my face, stumbled and grabbed the banister. I stepped back. "Go on, get in your own bed," I hissed. He rumbled something under his breath, hung his head and started up. It was a wobbly assent but he made it to the top and shuffled toward his bedroom. The upstairs night-lite illuminated his feet. One foot was bare and white, the other still wore a dark dress sock. After his door closed I checked the living room. The TV was on, the screen frozen on the image of a beautiful woman on her knees, gazing up at the camera with a look of adoration. She was naked, of course, with brown hair rolling over her shoulders and, from that angle, very large breasts. I pressed play and she began to move silently. She smiled up at the unseen man, licked her lips and shook her excellent boobs. My hand found my groin and I watched a few minutes, enjoying the bouncing breasts and oddly curious to see how the porn star's junk compared to Tom's. Weird, huh? She pleaded with her eyes and offered her amazing boobs in exchange for something. Her lips said 'please.' I unbuttoned my housecoat, settled into Tom's easy chair and took a sip of his excellent whiskey. The rest is embarrassing. Let's just say that it wasn't that impressive but she certainly was, erections aren't 100% necessary and panty liners give a girl the confidence to be herself any time of day or night, just like the commercials say. I turned off the TV, alined Tom's dress shoes beside his chair, carried his pants and single sock to the laundry room and stopped off at the bathroom before turning in for a wonderful night's sleep. + Thanksgiving was the best day ever. Tom had the day off. Rachael and I cooked a turkey with all the trimmings, including three pies. We all spent the day feasting while lounging in the living room watching endless football games. A whole day with my family around me. An hour after the girl's bedtime the big game finally ended in a victory for Tom's favorite team. His yelp of delight woke me up. Through blurry eyes I watched him pop out of his easy chair, maneuvering Suzy off his lap and into the seat with practiced ease. She could sleep through a hurricane. Tom bounced in place and punched at the air silently. "They won, huh? Congratulations." I said quietly rubbing my eyes. He started and turned to me quickly. "Oh sorry. I didn't want to wake the girls" he whispered. "Yeah. That seals the playoffs." He wanted to celebrate somehow, that was obvious, but I was no help. It's sad but I didn't know how then. Rachael's feet lay on my lap anyway so I couldn't move and contented myself with a thin smile and another quiet, "Congratulations!" he was restless and searched the room for someone to 'high-five' with. Nobody appeared. He smiled thinly at each of us in turn. "I'm gonna piss, then I'll help you with the girls," he whispered before trudging away. He looked sad. What would he normally do after a game, when he wasn't at home? Did he and his football buddies party afterward, maybe get drunk and fuck some cheerleaders? I had no idea. The two of us crumpled on the sofa in a pile of ruffled skirts and hair must be boring in comparison. Susan's head hung over the arm of the chair, drooling. I shifted and and began the process. He took a long time. They were up and beginning to wobble forward when he reappeared. "There's my girls! Off to bed," Tom said, blocking the doorway and beaming down a toothy, white smile at Rachael and Susan. Or was that for all three of us? "Daddy!" Suzy cried in a little girl voice. Suddenly awake, she leaped at her father and threw her arms around his neck. He caught her under the arms, lifted her effortlessly to his face and kissed her on the lips, a long, chaste kiss followed by an even longer hug. Her feet dangled above the carpet. When he sat her down she shot off at Suzy speed. Rachael was next. She sleepily raised her arms and stepped forward. They kissed and hugged, a loving father and daughter moment that make my heart swell. Standing there like an idiot, patting myself on the back for a job well done, I wasn't expecting what happened next. Tom stepped closer and I held up my hands instinctively, to keep my boobs from touching. He did a thing with his fingers, a lifting under my elbows, that forced my hands up, and he stepped inside my guard. That fast my arms had nowhere to go but around his neck, one big hand seized my waist, the other shot inside and clutched the back of my neck tightly. His face was right there. Let's just say I'd been feeling kind of girly lately, what with all the clothes and the fact that I spent my time with young girls. His lips were dry and rimmed with hedgehog. There was a lot of pressure, which I had no control over, but no hint of a tongue, thank goodness. It wasn't too bad in fact, although a little warning would have been nice. After a long, long second his rough face scraped over my cheek and buried itself in my neck for a tight hug. Something had to touch. My chest squeezed between us, that was inevitable, but I kept my groin away, the way guys do. He released me and stepped back, stroking Rachael's hair and kissing her again before leading her up stairs like so many other nights. He left for an away game the next morning. That gave me three days to analyze the situation. One day I decided the lip pressure, dryness and spontaneity meant it could only have been a 'father/daughter' kiss. By the next day, after recalculating hand positions and durations, I was leaning more toward a 'husband/wife' kiss where I played the role of Beth, strictly for Rachael's benefit in that case. By the third day, having taken into account body pressure, angle of contact, the set of his mouth in the fateful moment and the smell of his aftershave that seemed to linger around the house all weekend, I was so nervous and jittery that I was beginning to think he might have given me cold.