Lola Ray

The front door slammed. I sat up straighter at my desk and strained to hear the voices below. It couldn’t be. He was early. My daddy was speaking, greeting someone, and then I heard him. Mack was here!

In a panic I looked down at my clothes. I’d been so busy finishing off a batch of algebra homework so that I would be ready in time for daddy’s best friend, Maddox McClane, arriving that he’d gone and blown my whole plan out of the water. I was still in my nightclothes—a loose T-shirt and pair of shorts—and was nowhere near presentable. Instead of changing that morning I decided to get stuck in to my homework so that it would be done and dusted before the Sunday game. But the time had slipped away from me. I had to get ready, dress up for him. Daddy would soon be calling for his chips and dip, too.

Sundays, especially during this football season, were days that I lived for. Not because I liked football, far from it. I could barely stand the sport. But Daddy worshiped the game as most of the men and boys around our small southern town of Weyworth did. The only reason I loved Sundays was because it was the only real time I got to spend with Mack. He would come around each week to watch the game with him. Apparently they used to know each other as kids and when Mack moved into the house behind ours a few months ago, a weekly tradition was born. Mack and Daddy would be glued to the men running around on the field up on the big flat-screen TV in the den, and I would sit quietly out of the way staring in turn at Mack.

Dreaming of him on top of me.

Dreaming of him slipping into me, stealing my virginity away.

Dreaming of him becoming mine.

It didn’t matter that he was my daddy’s best friend. It didn’t matter that he was nearly twice my age. The only thing that mattered was that feeling when, on rare occasions, he glanced over at me and gave me a sneaky smile. That smile made me want to part my legs right in front of him, to let him have a sneak peek at what he was missing out on… on what I wanted to give him. Like the snacks I regularly served him, I wanted to offer up my virginity on a platter to him.

A man like him, there was no doubt he could have any woman he wanted, and probably had. He had the look of experience about him. But I wanted him to want me. To see me. He had to realize that I was no longer a little girl, that my breasts were no longer budding small peaches, but were now real handfuls to grab hold of. To squeeze and nip at whenever he wanted.

I was getting myself all worked up just thinking about him and I closed my textbook with a loud thud and pushed my chair back and headed toward the shower. I had to work quickly. There wasn’t a moment to waste. I had less than three hours to bask in his presence and I’d already wasted a small portion of that time daydreaming when I should’ve been downstairs. I would pray for overtime to make up the minutes.

With my hair scooped up into a bun I soaped the suds all over my body and hastily rinsed them off. It was the fastest shower in the history of all showers, a world-record. I resisted the temptation to let my hands skim over my body while fantasizing about Mack… better to fantasize about him where I could see him, in the flesh. Dropping water everywhere, I sprinted back across the hall to my room to towel off and get dressed.

The decision on what to wear was always a difficult task each week. It had to be good enough that I would look hot, but not too hot. Not so slutty that Daddy would notice and send me back upstairs to change. That would be far too embarrassing. Daddy was always pretty strict about what I could and couldn’t wear. But I had my ways getting around his scrutiny and disapproval. Not that he paid me very much attention anyway, it was only when he wanted something that he dared to look at me—or when I’d accidentally done something wrong. I’d convinced myself that him ignoring me had to do with me reminding him too much of my mother. The woman who had broken his heart and skipped out of town, leaving both of us behind.

But really he was just a grade-A dick who resented the fact he had to put a roof over my head ever since my mother split. He treated me like his own personal slave, not his daughter, and for the next year or so before I went to college (if he would let me, and not keep me in this dead-end town) I had to put up with it. Keep my head down, get good grades, and soon I’d be free. But I didn’t want to wait that long, especially not when I thought about Mack… my one true escape.

At my closet I pulled out a few choice items then pursed my lips as I tried to decide between what I’d set out. It was either going to be a pair of tight jeans that would show off my legs, matched with a simple scooped-neck top, or it would be the recent purchase I’d managed to snag in the autumn sale; a strappy, pale yellow sundress. The weather was colder now, but I could still get away with wearing it, especially indoors. It was perfectly respectable with a hem just above my knee. Something that I could wear to church but would still sinfully show off my curves.

I grinned as I thought of what I could do to spice it up, and put the bra I’d originally intended to wear back in the drawer. The fabric of the dress and the paneling at the front would give my breasts enough support, but was also thin enough that I was sure my nipples would be temptingly visible nubs for Mack to see. Just the idea of him staring at my body brought a warm flush all over my skin, my nipples already hardening. I hadn’t even seen him yet and I was already buzzing with lusty excitement.

With the dress zipped up, I slipped on a cute pair of flats and quickly dusted a smattering of makeup on my face. Not too much. Daddy hated it when I wore too much. He would tell me I looked like a common whore—like my mother—if I choose the wrong lipstick color or if I coated my lashes with thick mascara. So I kept it simple, sweet, and innocent. Just the look I was going for, if I was being honest with myself. I was far from innocent though. Something had awoken in me recently. A desire, a fire that I believed only Mack could quench.

As I was about to reach for the door handle of my bedroom, ready to run downstairs and make my entrance, I stopped. Before I could talk myself out of it I lifted the skirt of the dress, hooked my fingers around the sides of my white panties and pulled them down and shook them off.

The idea of me being bare in his presence, or of the chance that Mack might sneak a peak under my skirt as I crossed over my legs had me feeling all kinds of naughty and wet. Maybe I’d even twirl a bit when Daddy wasn’t looking, let the hem of the dress flutter upwards for Mack to see, I thought with a dirty grin, and ran down the stairs.

“Hey! Keep your noise down. We can’t hear what they’re saying,” Daddy shouted as I entered the sitting room that was really more of a den. It was dark, the shades partially drawn so the light didn’t land on the TV. Breathless from my little run—I had to admit I had made quite a racket coming down, overly excited to see Mack—I apologized to my father and eased myself into the spare chair off to the side. Knees together. For the time being.

“Yeah, well don’t make a habit of it. Like a herd of elephants it was,” Daddy said and turned his attention back to the screen, where they were playing commercials; trying to sell men like my daddy a new truck. He hadn’t missed a damn thing of the actual game, but I resisted shaking my head and talking back; he’d scolded me for much worse in the past, and I didn’t want to get banished to my room and away from seeing and spending time with Mack.

Speaking of Mack, I took a deep breath and cautiously elevated my gaze toward where I knew he was sitting. I hadn’t yet looked directly at him. I had to be careful not to be too obvious. Daddy was in the Lazy Boy closest to me and I was forced to look past him to the other black leather recliner in order to see Mack. Timing my gazes was crucial. But I was used to this. My daddy never gave up his chair for anyone and Mack was always in the chair farthest away from my own seat. Either way I had to be careful and clever; I was forced to divide my attention.

Sometimes I would pretend to watch the game, feigning an interest, other times I would use my phone as a way to disguise where my attention really lay. And sometimes, when I was feeling really naughty and when they were both so preoccupied with the pigskin on the screen, I would just stare at Mack outright, willing him to look back.

Luckily at that moment Mack was leaning forward, a hand tucked up under his strong chin resting his weight on his knee, and instead of struggling to see his side profile I got a clear view straight away. My insides sighed as I took him in.

Rugged and buff, dirty and hot.

Sexy as sin… with his bulging muscles, typical blue denim jeans and the tan that caressed his face he could’ve been mistaken for a cowboy. A pony I wanted to ride. But he was no pony. He was a fucking stallion. One that would buck and thrust. He could saddle me up, whip me, rein me in, and ride me off into the sunset.

For the thousandth time that year I cursed the gods that Mack wasn’t younger. I wished he wasn’t my daddy’s best friend. I wished that he wasn’t so completely off limits. Or that better still, I wished that I was older. That my teenage mother had done everyone a favor and spread her legs a bit sooner. If that had happened, I would’ve been old enough by now to make a move. Out from under my daddy’s roof and perhaps already in Mack’s arms.

Though my birthday was next week, I thought wickedly. I would be a woman. Eighteen and ready. I bit my lip as a plan started to form in my mind.

“What the hell are you doing just sitting there?” Daddy asked, rudely interrupting my thoughts. Though he wasn’t really asking, and by his tone I knew to keep quiet. “Get! In the kitchen with you. We’ll be needing our snacks. And don’t forget about the wings. They should’ve been in ages ago!”

“Yes, Daddy,” I muttered and got to my feet, disappointed that I’d be slaving away in the kitchen instead of being able to lazily dream about Mack while he was right there in the room.

“Oh, and bring us two more beers will you?” he said as he lifted his arm and waggled the empty bottle he was holding.

“Sure,” I replied and made my way out of the den, closing the wooden door behind me as I’d been taught to do. Had to keep the heat in and not let it escape, Daddy had always warned me; he wasn’t made of money… and I certainly wasn’t paying anything toward the heating bill, he loved to say. I’d heard it so many times now, it had been beaten into me over the years and it was now second nature to close the doors and shut off lights and electronics when I was no longer in the room. I skirted around the dining table that we barely used and went into the kitchen, heading straight for the fridge. Best not to keep him waiting.

I grabbed two cold long-necks and clinked them down onto the counter and eased their tops off.

I bit my lip looking at the rim of one. What if I…?

I knew I was taking a risk, entering dangerous waters. But nothing could’ve stopped me right then.

Taking the bottle in my grasp I brought it to my lips and kissed the glass opening, imagining Mack’s mouth. Becoming bolder I swirled my tongue around, leaving traces of my saliva upon it. Mack’s bottle.

His lips would connect with the rim as he took a pull, the foamy beer snaking down his throat and along with it he’d take a little bit of me with the malty suds. My nipples stood erect as I contemplated this image. And lower still my pussy pulsed. Little exciting flutterings I had no control over.

Still holding Mack’s bottle in my hand I wondered what if I did something more… something a little more naughty.

I lowered the bottle to my thigh, thinking. My heart was racing. Thudding in my chest as the idea of what I was about to do bloomed like a rose, fully forming in my mind. But what if I was caught? What if he realized and said something? It would be his word against mine, though Daddy would most likely side with Mack.

I did it anyway.

I took the neck of the bottle and slipped it under my dress. Breathless I brought it closer to my apex and let the smooth cold glass touch me. I gasped and the bottle almost slipped from my hand. Feeling bolder I increased the pressure and let the top of the bottle skim along the seam of my bare pussy. It felt good. Cold, jolting, and hard. But it wouldn’t feel as good as Mack’s cock, I thought, as I continued to cover the rim with my exquisite juices. I was sorely tempted to take the neck inside me, but I’d never done that before. Never even fingered myself. I was saving myself. Saving it all for when Mack would notice me.

“How’s it going in here?”

For the second time in the space of a few seconds the bottle almost slipped from my grasp as the voice boomed around the kitchen. Desperately I whipped the bottle away from myself. The skirt of my dress swayed as if it had been hit by a breeze. My stomach flipped with dread—I’d been caught—and I spun round. I bit my lip and tried to recover. I was blushing like mad, but as Mack came fully into the room, easing up to the central island of the kitchen, I thought perhaps there was a slim chance he hadn’t seen what I’d been doing. That maybe the counter had obscured his view from the other side of the room.

He grinned and leaned on the counter as if nothing was untoward, as if he hadn’t just caught me touching myself with… oh god. I put the bottle I’d been holding down next to the other one on the counter. They both sweated; little beads of perspiration trickling down their glassy exteriors as I waited for Mack to say something, anything.

Mack nodded to the one I’d put down, the one I’d just removed from the seam of my pussy. “Is that one mine?” he asked. He said it with such normality that I breathed a sigh of relief. He hadn’t seen. Thank god. If he had, he wouldn’t be taking the bottle right there in front of me and lifting it to his lips. Would he?

He didn’t take a drink. Not yet.

The neck of the bottle merely rested on his lips, under his nose and the dusting of stubble, as he stared at me. His gaze was unwavering. Would he say something if he did notice something strange about his beer? Call me out on what I did?

I couldn’t look away from him. I was trapped, my eyes locked on his. We were the only two people in the whole world and he held my life in his hands. What would he do? Would he tell my daddy? Call me out on being the horny teenager I was becoming?

I could barely stand the intensity of his gaze. The side of his mouth twitched. A tiny smile. But I saw it and let out a tiny breath of relief. I’d studied him long enough to know when he was smiling, when he was amused, or when he something was bothering him. And that time, in front of me in the kitchen, he was definitely smiling—his pale blue eyes sparkling. He was doing his best to try and hide it, though.

The tip of his tongue darted out to touch the opening of the bottle. Then his whole mouth locked around the rim and he swallowed down a healthy gulp.

“So sweet, tastes like fresh honey,” he said before taking another mouthful, his eyes never leaving mine each time he titled his head back. “Just how I like my beer. Sweet and untouched…”

My mouth was dry as I watched him finish the bottle trying to sort through the meaning of his words. He licked his lips, seeking every last drop.

“Where’s my beer?” Daddy yelled from the other room.

I couldn’t find my voice and Mack answered for me, “Got ‘em.”

I pushed the untampered bottle toward him and he took it. “Grab me another, will you?” he said to me, his words low, secretive. I did and handed it over without being able to utter a sound. He gave me a subtle wink and turned to leave the room.

“Hey, Lola Ray?” Mack said as he reached the kitchen door.

“Yes?” I replied, breathless.

“You have a birthday coming up, don’t you?”

I nodded.

“A big one, right?”

I nodded again and his eyebrows rose with satisfaction.

“Good. I’m looking forward to it.”