Ass

“You know? I’m not sure if I like this colour after all. It’s a little dark, don’t you think?”

Louise paused as she descended the stairs, smiling as her mother’s voice carried from the kitchen. It had taken her parents three weeks to decide what colour to put on the wall and now it sounded as if she was having second thoughts.

Her father groaned but she could tell he was in a good mood.

“Didn’t I say this would happen? Didn’t I say it?”

Her mother laughed. It was nice to hear the two of them having fun being together.

“It looked different on the colour chart-.”

“This is just like when we go shopping,” her father said. “We go in ten shoe shops, then you decide to go back to the first one.”

The kitchen door was part open and the sun was shining through into the hallway below. Louise held her nineteenth birthday cards to her chest and listened. She couldn’t see into the kitchen but she could imagine her mother in her paint spotted jeans looking at the wall and trying to decide if she liked the new colour while her father stood by smiling and watching her and only pretending to be irritated.

“Perhaps we should have gone with the first colour we liked?” her mother suggested.

“The first colour…” her father said. “I knew it.”

“I can’t help it. It’s hard to decide.”

“I thought you said the first colour was too light?”

“I did, but this is too dark. It’s definitely too dark.”

A shadow appeared briefly in the kitchen doorway and Louise heard the sound of a chair being moved. Or it might have been the stepladder.

Her mother sighed indecisively. “Ooh, I don’t know what I want.”

“Yeah? Well I know what you need-.” her father said.

She heard her mother laugh.

“What’s that then?” she said. Her voice sounded different, as if she was taunting him. Louise had been about to continue down the stairs to show them her birthday cards but now she hesitated.

“Turn around, I’ll show you.”

Her father’s voice was lower, still good humoured, but she knew their mood had changed.

“That’ll be the day,” her mother said.

“Turn around,” he insisted.

Louise heard the two of them laughing. They sounded like a couple of teenagers.

“Turn around-.” her father repeated.

“What? No. What for?”

Louise saw their shadows pass in front of the door. She could hear them struggling, her mother laughing as her father tried to do something. It suddenly occurred to her that they’d forgotten she was home.

She glanced up the stairs, wondering if she could return to her bedroom without making any noise.

“This is what you get for not being able to make up your mind-.”

Her father sounded out of breath. She heard the sound of the table legs scraping the tiled floor.

“Move your hand out of the way,” her father said and her mother laughed.

“Why didn’t you tell me you wanted to do this? We could have skipped the painting-.”

Louise turned and placed one foot carefully on the next stair but she froze when she illegal bahis heard the sound of a loud slap from the kitchen.

Her mother yelped but laughed at the same time.

“Next time we’ll go with the first colour, okay? Say, yes John.”

“Yes, John,” her mother said.

The same sound was repeated and Louise felt herself blush as she suddenly realised what they were doing.

“Say, I’m sorry, John.”

“I’m sorry, John.”

Louise wanted to move but she couldn’t. Standing there it was all too easy to picture her mother bent over the kitchen table, her father behind her, raising his hand…

The sound came again. It seemed louder. She heard her mother gasp.

“Again,” her father said.

“I’m sorry, John-.”

Something in the tone of her father’s voice and her mother’s meek and obedient response held Louise motionless. Her father sounded more masculine somehow. In control. His voice was deeper than usual. More commanding and authoritative.

“This is what you get…” he said again and Louise’s grip tightened on the stair rail as the sound of a firm slap carried clearly from the kitchen.

“I’m sorry, John.”

It didn’t sound like her mother’s voice at all. It had a soft, plaintive, submissive quality she’d never heard before. She sounded younger and somehow her father sounded older.

“I hope you remember this next time,” he said.

“I will, I promise. I’m sorry, John,” her mother whispered.

“Let this be a lesson to you…”

The sound of each slap was loud and somehow shocking. Louise felt her blush deepen as the sound communicated something to her, something deep and unexpected that she didn’t completely understand. It sounded painful, like a firm, meaty slap but it touched something inside her. Every time she heard it she imagined her father’s hand falling sharply on her mother’s vulnerable bottom. Somehow she knew that she was bent over the kitchen table, that her mother’s bottom trembled every time.

The sounds continued, slow and regular, but somehow strangely exciting because it seemed so ruthless and relentless and unavoidable.

Louise realised with a shock that her mother must like it. It was a revelation, like suddenly getting a glimpse into another unsuspected world beyond her imagination and experience.

Her face burned. She felt ashamed when she realised she was becoming aroused.

“I’m sorry, John-.”

She knew it wasn’t a game anymore. It had started that way but now it had changed into something else.

She pictured her mother’s hands gripping the edge of the table as she continued to submit. It must hurt but she didn’t complain.

There was something about the thought of willingly submitting, of surrendering control, of bending over to be punished that way that made Louise’s heart beat faster. She was embarrassed for herself and for her parents, but at the same time she felt herself beginning to get wet. There was nothing she could do about it. The familiar, urgent tingling sensation was intensifying between her legs, and illegal bahis siteleri she cautiously squeezed her thighs together.

“Stand up and take your jeans off…”

Her father’s voice carried clearly. It was an order. His voice was deep and full of emotion.

His words gave Louise butterflies. Her stomach tensed. She began to breath faster. Her lips were dry. She listened with her mouth open, frozen, staring at the hall carpet where it ended before the kitchen door.

She saw shadows moving again, undefined. She didn’t know if it was her mother or father.

“And your panties.”

Louise had to bite her lower lip to stop the gasp of surprise that threatened to escape her. In her mind she saw her father watching and waiting, her mother with her back to him, her dark hair hanging down as she obediently pushed down her underwear.

The house suddenly seemed unnaturally quiet. Too quiet. The silence was intensified by what she knew was taking place in the kitchen.

Louise found herself hardly daring to breath, waiting, straining to hear the smallest sound. She could feel her heart beating. The seconds seem to stretch with unbearable slowness.

Then she heard someone moan. It made her shiver. It was her mother, but she sounded like a stranger.

Louise closed her eyes. Her grip tightened on the hand rail.

Her mother moaned again. She heard her catch her breath. The table moved. Now she could hear her mother’s harsh, urgent breathing.

“Now what do you say?” her father asked quietly. Louise heard her mother gasp. It was a deeply erotic sound.

“I’m sorry, John-.”

“This is what you get…” her father said.

Her mother began to breath faster and Louise’s hand slipped from the rail. She couldn’t help herself.

The sound of a loud, hard slap reached her ears. It was unmistakably the sound of her father’s hand falling sharply on her mother’s naked bottom. His big, calloused hand striking her soft, vulnerable flesh.

This time her mother cried out and Louise felt her own breath escape in a sudden rush. She opened her eyes and recognised the sound her mother had made as a cry of pain and pleasure.

Louise’s face was burning, her heart was racing, and she was breathing faster.

“I’m sorry, Jo-.”

Her mother’s words were interrupted, broken abruptly by the sound of another loud slap, then another. Each time her mother tried to speak the same sharp sound came again until the air seemed full of them, coming faster and harder, one after the other.

Louise gasped and her hips spasmed. She became aware that she was rubbing herself through her jeans but she didn’t know when she’d begun to do it. Her breathing was becoming increasingly ragged and urgent. She couldn’t stop herself. Her hand was moving between her legs as if of its own accord, compelled to respond to the aching need that continued to build…

Her birthday cards slipped from her other hand.

She began to pant then she held her breath, the movement of her hand becoming more urgent, canlı bahis siteleri her mouth opening wider in anticipation of her climax.

The sounds downstairs stopped abruptly.

“Turn around, get on your knees…” Her father was breathing heavily. He sounded impatient. “Hurry up.”

Louise heard movement. She opened her jeans. Her body trembled as she slipped her hand inside her panties.

“Come on, come on-,” her father’s voice was full of urgency.

She heard her mother moan and Louise began to rock her hips as she fingered herself.

Now she heard her father gasp. It became a low, drawn out groan of pleasure. She could hear her mother making urgent, muffled, excited noises in her throat.

Louise was wetter and more aroused than she’d ever been. She moved her finger urgently around her clit.

“Yeah, that’s it… That’s it,” her father groaned.

Her mother began to make deeper and more urgent sounds that quickly increased in tempo but it was the growing sounds of pleasure from her father that hurried Louise to her climax.

She heard him catch his breath, then it sounded as if he was breathing quickly through his teeth…

“Oh God, oh God.”

Louise turned her back to the wall, one foot raised to the step above, as she furiously fingered herself.

Her father groaned. It sounded more like a growl, a deep sound, from deep in his throat.

Her hips began to thrust as her fingers moved faster.

She could hear her mother making eager, deep throat sounds. She could imagine all too clearly the actions that accompanied them.

Her father’s groans became more urgent until she heard him stifle them in his throat. She knew exactly what was happening. The sounds filled her with a guilty sense of pleasure. It was enough to push her over the edge to her own shuddering climax.

Her fingers moved frantically between her legs, her pent up breath escaped and she tensed again, she began to pant then stifled a moan as the sounds from the kitchen carried her to another climax. She doubled over, shocked by the force of it. Her knees felt weak. The sounds from the kitchen were tapering off after a series of deep groans of pleasure from her father.

Louise didn’t want to stop. Her mind was full of graphic images of what had just taken place in the kitchen. Her fingers continued to move. It felt too good to stop. It was addictive. She was greedy for more.

“Jesus.. Jesus fucking Christ..”

She heard her father panting for breath. There was a tremor in his voice. She saw her mother on her knees, her lips still stretched wide, and Louise climaxed again.

This time she almost fell as her legs threatened to buckle.

“You’ve been saving that up-.” her mother said with approval. Her voice was sexy and deep. She sounded pleased. Her father laughed.

Louise saw a shadow move in the doorway. She quickly snatched her birthday cards from where they’d fallen on the stairs. She felt a moment of panic when she was suddenly sure one of them would step into the hallway.

“That was unbelievable,” her father said.

“So what about this colour,” her mother said. “Do you like it, or not?”

Louise smiled, her face still burning, her heart still pounding as she quietly retreated to her bedroom.

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