This weekend at the lake house is already shaping up to be uncomfortable, and not just because Owen made me promise to be on my best behavior while we're here. He gets weird around his parents, which is fair... they're weird.

It started with Mr. Davis' complimenting my outfit when we arrived, and has continued as we've all shared meals, drinks, and "family" time on the lake. Owen is working overtime to apologize for his dad's crude jokes, but they're honestly the only entertaining part about this weekend. Lake house life is way too sterile. Too many apple orchards, too many friendly neighbors... it's just too wholesome.

By the time we're sitting down for our last dinner all together, I'm frothing for some banter, and I'm glad to see Mr. Davis is already sauced up at the head of the table. He doesn't last a second before opening his mouth.

"You know, I'm coming around to this one," he addresses his wife, but looks at me. "She's been a real... treat to have around at the house. Don't you think so, honey?"

Mrs. Davis gushes her agreement, rushing the first plate of food over to me as I sit in the chair across from Owen's dad.

"Wow, thank you so much!" I cheese at her, and glare at Mr. Davis, letting my smile drop and my eyes sharpen. I see a micro-expression dart across his face, somewhere between anger and mischief. "I guess you can eat later," I look Mr. Davis up and down before aggresively stabbing a baby gherkin. A smile pulls at his lip.

"You know what they say about small pickles, don't you?" Unwilling to give him the satisfaction of doing my part, I stay silent, bringing the pickle between my teeth and biting it hard.

Mr. Davis shamelessly stares at my mouth while delivering the punch line. "It's not the size of the pickle that matters, but the age of the brine."

The joke is brash, but his delivery strokes the part of my psyche that needs to hear some dirty humor every once in a while. I can't help but smile, and he can't help but see it.

"Really, Dad?" Owen drops his plate on the table with a clang, followed by his mom. She goes straight into deescalation mode, putting a reassuring hand on her husband and shooting Owen a warning look.

The rest of the dinner is disgustingly wholesome. Owen's mom talks the most, discussing an upcoming cruise, the gossip from the ladies who join her for speed-walking, and a breakdown of the latest weddings, births, and deaths in the family. By my fifth time exclaiming, "Wow, that's so great!" I'm about ready to ask Mr. Davis for a shot of his whiskey.

As soon as the food and the social exhausion hits Owen's parents, they excuse themselves to their room upstairs. I've been set up in one of the bedrooms across from them, Owen exiling himself to the couch in the living room. I guess he knows better than to stay in the same bed with me...

"You too, Paige," Owen squeezes my knee. "Go get some rest."

I give him my best pouty face, but he only smiles, pulls a strand of bangs behind my ear, and gives my chin a quick squeeze.

I trudge off, making a scene, but knowing full well I'll be back as soon as the rest of the house is quiet.

It comes soon, Owen's parents passing out almost immediately. Once a heavy snore comes from their room, I leave my clothing at the foot of the bed, sneaking downstairs to the living room.

Owen is fast asleep, snoring just like his dad, his open mouth visible under the rim of his beanie. His sweater is twisted around his torso, one denim-covered knee up against the back of the couch, the other flopped to the side.

I crouch down next to him, kneeling gently on the hardwood. My hand falls on his pec, and he doesn't stir. His breathing is deep and even, propelling him through whatever dreams he might be having. I feel the rising and falling of his chest, a strong, youthful heartbeat pounding below. I let my palm wander across his body.

I hear a creaking noise, and I scan the room instinctively, knowing I could be caught at any minute. I've been buttoned up this entire weekend, and Owen's request hadn't gone completely over my head, but his serious voice does something to me... I want him. I need him.

My eyes settle on his belt buckle - a simple brass piece on a strip of mahogany leather. I flip the metal, pulling the center bar from the notch and letting it fall loose. Sill no response - good. With one palm flat over the button, I pull the belt off him. The slick leather moves freely across the denim, snaking around his torso and flopping with a jingle.

I loop the leather through the buckle and move to the end of the couch. With my tits dangerously close to his face I run my hand down one arm, lace my fingers around his wrist and lift it up over his head. I feel him tense with the rotation to his shoulder, and then relax it in exactly the right position. The leather loop goes around his wrist, and through the rustic iron work on outside of the couch. I pin the loose end of the strap with my thigh and reach for his other hand. As I bend, my nipple drags across his knit beanie, bringing it halfway up his face.

"Wh- what the?" Owen groans, unknowingly lifting his other arm into my snare. I pull the strap around his wrist and twist it into a knot - both elbows locked over the arm of the couch. He's a big guy, and he isn't going to like being woken up like this.

I walk back over to the side of the couch and pull off the hat, showing shocked, sleep-filled eyes. Anger melts into stark recognition, and his eyebrows shift around on his face as he takes in my full nudity, working his gaze across my breasts, down my stomach, over both hips, even down to my toes and back up. The way he bites on his lips shows that his lust for my body is shameless, and I love it.

I see his biceps flex, and anger changes the shape of his eyebrows again as he feels the resistance against his binding. "Paige, what the fuck?" he spits. "Untie this shit right now!"

I turn slowly, pretending not to hear him, my thigh pressing into his stretched ribcage. Owen huffs and writhes as I pop open his jeans, mumbling something about being respectful.

He's already hard. Rock hard.

"Oh jesus, you're fucking serious, huh?" he groans as I press his erection against his abs. "Paige, I can't... my parents..."

Ignoring him, I swing my leg over his shoulders, press my knee into the cushion and position my pussy over his face. Whatever he has to say can be spoken to my lower lips, and his mouth is already open as I bring my hips down. Good boy.

I bend over his waist, my labia sliding over his tongue as he begins to eat me out. He flicks at my clit gently, sighing into me when my lips find the head of his cock. I can feel him pressing against me with his hips, but he's not getting any more of himself in my mouth without working a little harder for it. I settle my pussy against his mouth, grinding my clit on his lower lip.

His efforts are lackluster... lips not pulling the way they should, tongue barely engaged. He's gone down on me before, but it must be either the nerves or the belt holding him back. Either way, this isn't working for me. I lift myself off his face and pivot, switching the knee that jams into the couch cushions and facing him.

"Ah, fuck..." Owen's face scrunches up hard, clenching his jaw against my lowering weight. I guide him past my swollen pussy lips, my body accepting him gratefully. I sigh, with stretched contentment, letting my head fall back. The wavy ends of my hair tickle my skin as I look back towards Owen, but something ahead of me catches my eye.

An obscured form moves in the corner. I scan the shape. Shadowed lines become arms and hands, and my breath quickens as I meet the piercing stare of Mr. Davis. He's standing in the doorway, directly across from me, and completely out of Owen's sight.

Shirtless and shadowed, he looks like the well-done version of his son.

"Hey! You ok?" Owen whispers.

My eyes leave Mr. Davis, attention back on my boyfriend. "Thought I heard something, but we're good," I lean down and kiss him, pushing my hips into his and taking his whole length.

As I bring my head back up, I see Owen's dad leaning up against the doorframe, the silhouette of his hard cock wholly apparent. It's the biggest dick I've ever laid my eyes on, and my pussy clenches just seeing it. Owen hisses at my contraction, and I start bouncing slowly on his lap.

"Fuck yes..." I squeak.

Mr. Davis is watching me closely, and I hold his gaze as his hand surrounds his massive erection.

"Yeah, like that," I breathe, one hand on Owen's chest, one squeezing my breast. "Mmm, you're so... big," my eyes are shamelessly settled across the room.

I see a white glint of teeth, the voyeur's smile looking more like a snarl in the low light. I watch as his hand moves down his shaft at the same time I settle onto Owen, and when I lift up again, Mr. Davis' hand moves with me. He's matching my rhythm. When my thighs meet Owen's lap, his hand is at the base of his shaft, and when I lift myself up, his fist slides towards his tip. The dance between us from across the room excites a part of me that hadn't existed before. Knowing what this is, knowing who he is, it's wrong on so many levels...

"Faster..." I sigh, bucking into Owen. A zing of frenzy runs up my spine when I see Mr. Davis matching my speed. Owen groans between my thighs, but I'm too close to pay him any mind.

"Cum with me, baby..." I whine a little too loudly, and Owen shushes me, desperately pulling on the leather strap around his wrists. Mr. Davis leans his head back against the doorframe, his eyes still meeting mine, now half-squinted with his own pleasure. My eyes fall on the rhythm of his hand, matching it stroke for stroke. I imagine what it might feel like to fuck him, and the thought does me in.

My orgasm is strong, arching my back and grinding my hips. I swirl Owen around my insides, clenching my teeth and whining, hairs standing on edge, and eyes crossed beneath tightly closed eyelids. The waves take longer than usual to subside, but as they do, my eyes flutter open to see that Mr. Davis has gone. I wonder for a moment if I imagined him in some sort of feral daze.

"Damn it, Paige! I asked you not to come at me like this," Owen writhes against my weight, but I can only continue to gush on his lap. Sparkles cloud my vision and I lay down on his chest, his still-hard dick sliding out of me with a pop. "We're gonna have to talk about this tomorrow," he groans.

My arms feel like noodles, but I reach up and loosen the strap around Owen's wrist. After a little clumsy fiddling, the leather comes loose, and he brings his arms down on top of me. The affection feels a little undeserved, but I melt into him all the same.

As the high of my orgasm fades, I start to feel conflicted about things. Do I feel attracted to Owen's dad, or was it just the excitement of seeing him in that moment? Is it possible he won't remember? Will I see it in his eyes tomorrow morning if he does?

I hop off Owen, breaking his embrace.

"You're not going to apologize?" Owen scoffs, packing his junk back into his pants.

"For?" I suppress panic. There's no way Owen could have seen his dad in the doorway... right?

"Nevermind, Paige..." he groans.

I lean in to kiss him, and he kisses me back, more of a counter-attack than a goodnight kiss. I jokingly push his beanie back down over his eyes, and head back to my room. I hear Owen sigh as my naked body bounces up the stairs.

As I reach the end of the banister, I see a light on in the bedroom where I'm staying.

Huh, I'm pretty sure I didn't leave a light on...

I slip through the door quickly, shutting it and locking it behind me.

When I spin around, Mr. Davis is naked... and in my bed. With one thick arm raised over his head, the other settled on his bare abdomen, the spread of his chest is unlike that of any other guy I've been with. "Holy fuck," I breathe, unable to engage my vocal chords. It wasn't a feral daze...

"As if you weren't expecting me after your little performance," he growls. His voice sounds like Owen's. Even his body looks like Owen's... thick bands of muscle stretch across his arms and shoulders. One noticeable difference is the dark hair that covers his torso, tapering off into a thin line at his lower abdomen.

The blankets below my gaze shift, and the full sight of Mr. Davis is illuminated by the bedside lamp. "I saw your face light up like a god damn Christmas tree when saw this."

I can't help but stare... salivate, and stare... His dick is thick and veined, a mass of dark hair at the base of his shaft. He's at least as girthy as Owen, but easily a few inches longer. My body reacts instantly, and Mr. Davis notices my thighs clench.

"A perfect little nymph like yourself deserves to be filled to the brim," he says, beginning to stroke himself like he had downstairs. I need it. I need to feel him inside me, but I can't bring myself to move. This would kill Owen. I've already tied him up and had my way with him... can I really fuck his dad?

The pulsing in my clit says yes. It says, "climb on that man's lap and take every drop he has." My legs bring me forward, and Mr. Davis sweeps the covers to the side, opening his arms for me. I put my hand on his shoulder, and a quaking starts in my core as we touch. This is wrong... but it's happening.

His eyes draw me in, the same color as my boyfriend's, but wet from booze and desire. I fall into him too perfectly, thick palms half-lifting me into his lap and strong forearms surrounding me. My breath leaves my lungs as his palms settle on my ass cheeks, the slightest tickle from his chest hair against the sensitive skin on my breasts. "There..." he sighs, squeezing my ass hard, "How's that?"

"I... Mr. Davis..." I search his eyes for any hint of guilt, but his hands are lifting me, positioning my pussy over his erection. I see his biceps bulging with the effort, but his expression is unmoved. I slide my hand down my body, finding his tip just below me. I nestle the end of him in the webbing between my pointer and middle finger, pushing him towards my opening and pressing into the sides of his shaft. I want to feel him dissappearing inside me.

His cock slides easily, my pussy lips are swollen and slick with erotic energy. I hold my fingers tight, forcing his shaft past the resistance there then past the resistance from my opening. "Ah, fuck," Mr. Davis growls the exact same words as Owen had, but even more desperately. I wonder how long it's been since he's been with anyone but his wife...

As the head of his cock pushes inside me, I'm already being stretched. My eyes squeeze shut and I focus on the feeling of his shaft passing by my fingers and deep inside me. "Oh, shit... yes..." I whisper as my pussy starts opening up for him. The awkward clenching of my nervous body relaxes, and as he sets me down fully, I feel pleasure much deeper than I have before.

"Good girl... You're nice and deep," comes a moaning tone.

"It feels amazing," I can't lie.

I feel Mr. Davis pulling on my hips, forcing his last inch inside me with a groan. The base of his cock is so thick, it hurts. It hurts, but it's exactly what I've been craving. I pull away, then settle back, up and down, a tiny motion that creates a desperate knot of pleasure inside me. Breathing noises get heavier, and I pull back more with every stroke, railing myself with just half his length.

I feel movement below me as a hand flattens against my back, Mr. Davis flipping me over with his cock still buried in me. In a fast motion, he's kneeling between my spread thighs, lifting my ass up off the mattress. "If we're gonna fill you up right, I'll need you to stay just like that." My knees fall against my shoulders, giving me the perfect view as his massive dick presses back inside me. I can only gasp, my ribcage fully compressed.

"Very good, Paige," he says my name, and my gaze shoots up to his face. "You just tell me when you're ready, and I'll give you what you want."

With those words, he starts to fuck me, and I mean FUCK me. The angle sends his cock so deep, I can feel it in my backbone. I squeal and whine against the tide of his pummeling, my ass bouncing like a basketball between him and the mattress. Something more clawing than an orgasm begins to pull at my core. "Shit, I feel it," I moan.

"Oh... fuck..." Mr. Davis is close too, his tone gives it away. "You ready for me to fill up this little pussy then?" he asks, the last word gritted through his teeth.

"Yeah, I want it... Cum i- inside me, please... Mr. Davis, all of it..." I choke against my own impending orgasm.

"Mmm... cum for me, girl. Show me how tight you can get and I'll fill you so good you'll be leaking for days." His unsolicited permission triggers something in my brain, and my body does exactly as he asks, clamping down hard around him. He barely has time to snap a hand around my neck before my moaning becomes audible. Somehow, his stroking doesn't stop. Guys can never handle being inside me when I cum, but the continued stimulation keeps me orgasming for what seems like minutes. "That's it, keep it going," he breathes into me, studying my tenseness and watching my eyes.

The hand around my throat loosens as my face begins to soften, and he runs the back of his hand along my jawline, sighing, "As promised..."

I stare down at his cock still inside me, droplets of moisture traveling my torso with gravity. He pulls out slightly, and I see his dick swell, the first shot of cum pooling deep. "Oh fuck yes, more..." I sigh, unable to contain my desires. He pulls out another inch, twitching again as a second blast fills me. I watch his dense muscle ripple as he gives me every drop, holding the head of his cock inside me. He pulls out, depositing the last bead of sperm against my clit.

"There you go, all fixed up," he sighs, smacking the side of my thigh, and shifting off the bed. I'm frozen in ecstacy, watching as he unlocks the door and leaves the room.

I hear another click of the latch, and he's gone. What the fuck have I done? What the fuck do do now? My searching mind flails against the ripples of satisfaction that still overtake me. I'm a mess of crushing guilt, and blissfully apathy. Whatever that was, it's unlocked something, and I can't go back.

By the morning, I've had a chance to cleanse my body, and clear my mind. I wade through a sea of awkward encounters with Owen's parents, thanking his mom for a thermos of coffee, and feeling his dad grab a little more than my side as we all exchanged farewell hugs.

I'd realized, before even packing my bag, that there's no way I can stay with Owen. Not only have I violated his trust, but I've tasted a pleasure so much stronger...

I'll find an easy way to let him down, though it might take me a few days.

It's never easy to break a heart, but Owen is a great kid (with a great cock), and he'll surely find someone who deserves all that love he's willing to give.

As for me, my priorities have... evolved.