Kissing My Dad's Friend

Soon enough, I feel warmth at my back, and tilt my head back to find Russ standing behind me, his legs so close they touch the bare, soaking wet skin of my back. My wet hair sticks to his legs, and my head bumps against his shins as he studies me. He’s not even smiling, he’s so busy staring at me.

With a wink, I slip off the wall and into the pool, practically daring him to come and follow me.

A moment later, I hear a splash. I surface in the middle of the deep end, and have to swallow a gasp as a warm, familiar hand traces up my thigh to spread flat across my belly, just for a moment. Then Russ surfaces too, a little too close to me, his gaze fixed on me.

“This is a dangerous game you’re playing, Maggie,” he murmurs, his voice pitched low, just for me, so nobody else will overhear him.

I grin in response. “I know.”

But I have no idea how dangerous it’s about to get. From the other end of the pool, Mom calls out for attention. “Who wants to play chicken?” She taps Dad’s shoulder, and then swats him again, more playfully, when he pretends to groan. I know secretly he loves it. Nobody brings out my father’s goofy side quite like my mother, and she knows when he needs it most.

Given how stressed he’s been at the hospital, I’m sure he really does need this time to blow off steam.

“John and I will go up against the first contender,” Mom is saying, when behind me, someone clears his throat.

“Maggie and I will play.” Russ. I whip around to stare at him, wide-eyed. Normally the couples all play this game. Is he trying to get us caught? But he just winks at me, and keeps an innocent, wide smile plastered on his face as he paddles toward the shallow end of the pool.

With one last gasp of worry, I swim after him. But my mom and dad don’t look suspicious or worried. I guess Russ has been hanging out with us for so long that they wouldn’t even think to be suspicious of anything going on between us. Still, it makes my heart race when Russ and my dad shake hands, trading good-natured insults about who’s going to destroy whom.

Mom flashes me a wink and a grin, before she easily swings her legs around Dad’s neck, and he hauls her up onto his back. They’ve done this so many times that she finds her balance in a split second, like it’s second nature.

A knot of fear curls in my stomach. But it’s overpowered by the anticipation, as Russ kneels in front of me. I swallow through a suddenly dry throat and reach up for his shoulders. He takes both of my hands in his instead, and I push my weight onto his hands as I swing my legs up his backside to wrap over both his shoulders at once.

He’s so warm, his muscles tensing under my weight. It makes me catch my breath. Especially when he lets go of my hands. I grasp his head to steady myself, and I’m painfully aware of where my pussy is pressed against the back of his neck, his head nestled into my belly, his hair tickling the soft, sensitive skin there.

What did I just get myself into?

My parents’ other friends form a loose circle around us, some cheering and clapping, others just grinning and sipping their drinks. Mom and Dad are frighteningly good at this game. They’re usually the undefeated champs of the night. Which is probably why they always suggest playing it. Mom loves any game where she can dominate.

It takes me longer than her to get my balance. Feeling Russ move beneath me, and having to adjust my weight and balance in tune with his, feels strangely intimate. Especially when his hands drop to grip my thighs tightly, just bare inches from his own face. I suck in a sharp breath and try not to focus on how good his hands feel pressed against my skin.

I try not to think too hard about how good his head feels between my thighs, either, or I’m going to start wishing he was facing the other direction.

“Ready?” Mom calls and holds out her arms.

I grasp her forearms in the starting position and offer a grin that feels braver than I actually feel right now. “Ready,” I reply, and I’m glad my voice doesn’t quiver the way my body is doing right now.

Without any more warning, Mom starts to shove at me, hard.

I push right back, bracing myself against Russ. It makes me grit my teeth, struggling to keep my seat as Mom tries her best to fling me off him, first by throwing her weight to one side, then the next. Dad moves with her every motion, so she’s never thrown off balance by her own attempts.