Abby catches me in Lily’s room

All right, I’ll take care of the laundry, I sigh inwardly. I’ll be good; then I can lie back down with Abby. I pad into the laundry room and discover that Lily left a load in the dryer. I take it out, putting her clothes in one clean basket and mine (only a few) in another, then transfer the wet load and start the dryer. I carry Lily’s basket into her room and set it down by her dresser. I straighten up—

—and to my surprise I feel two long arms encircle me from behind and two tits press into my back. After a moment, I feel a soft mound rubbing against my ass. “Hey, Ben,” Abby says. “I woke up alone in bed.”

I reach behind me to stroke her hair and turn my head for a soft kiss. “I know, sweet girl,” I say. “I didn’t want to disturb you, so I got a quick shower and went to take care of the laundry. What are you doing in here?”

Abby’s delighted laugh rings like chimes. “Silly man, you’re in here! Where else would I be?”

“But—” I start to reply before she interrupts me.

“I got up and went to the door and saw you walk in here,” she purrs. “It’s been really hot to fuck you in your bed; I thought it could be really hot to fuck you in Lily’s bed, too.”

“But—” I start again, only to be interrupted again.

“Sssshhhhh,” Abby says. “Don’t you think it sounds hot? To fuck Lily’s friend in the same bed where she’s fucked her boyfriends?”

I look at her in surprise, then stop and think. Why should I be surprised? She’s obviously been discreet about it, but should I really have expected anything else? Abby grins at me. “Really, Ben? She has the highest sex drive of all of us—from what she’s told us about her mother, that can’t be a surprise to you.” I grin ruefully and shrug. “She just didn’t want you to hear her because she didn’t want to hurt you.” I feel a pang of grief, and tears gather in the corners of my eyes; I hang my head. Abby nuzzles the back of my neck. “It’s OK, baby. We’re all here for you. You don’t have to be alone anymore.” She tenderly kisses my shoulder. “But you have been, and your daughter loves you—she didn’t want to rub it in. She didn’t want you to feel like, ‘She’s getting some and I’m not.’ She wants to take care of you. We all do.”

I turn in Abby’s arms and kiss her; I can feel my need for comfort, and somehow it doesn’t feel strange to seek that from an 18-year-old—at least not in this moment. She feels it and returns my kiss with tenderness and care. “Now, lover,” she murmurs, “let me make it all better. Let me fuck you right here in your daughter’s bed.”

My resistance crumples. “OK,” I say meekly. “She did say she had been meaning to change her sheets—she won’t think anything odd if I do it for her.”

Abby grins wickedly. “She won’t think anything at all, baby,” she purrs. “I asked her if I could, and she said yes.”