Sarah, And A Stranger

"Sarah?", I ask, opening the door slowly.

I'm shocked to see Sarah, covering herself up with the bedsheets. She looks disheveled, her red hair wild, her bra only hanging on one pale shoulder by a single strap. She's sweating and out of breath. Next to her is a boy from her school, also under the sheets, looking horrified and puzzled at the intrusion. Sarah looks embarrassed, horrified, and a frustrated.

"Sarah?! What the hell do you think you're doing? Who the hell is this?!" I shout, angry that she would sneak a guy under my roof. No telling what they were up to.

"Uhh, Mr. Townshend, I can explain." The young man stammers.

"I don't care about your explanations! Get the hell out!" I move out of the way of the door and point towards it. He quickly gets up, revealing he's just wearing some underwear, his pathetic hardon still apparent a very small penis. Unfortunate for him. He grabs his clothes off the floor and quickly retreats out of the room. A moment later, I hear him exit my front door.

"James! What the fuck?!" Sarah yells at me, still covering herself with the sheets.

I take a step closer, "Don't you dare curse at me. You've been bringing home a different boy every week, thinking I wouldn't know?", I say, harshly.

"That's none of your business! I'm 18, now! I can have whoever I want over." Sarah shouts, letting the covers drop. I can't help but glance down at her ample cleavage, for but a moment. I haven't seen her shirtless in years, and anyone would take a glance at the large breasts on display. Even with the bra on, I can tell they're still very perky.

I quickly look back at her, regaining my resolve, before continuing, "Exactly! You're only 18, and you're acting like this?! In my house? You don't clean, you don't work, hell you barely attend school. I got a letter today saying you're one missed class away from getting expelled. What are you going to do, then? I won't have you living under my roof like a bum.". My words hit her hard.

"I... You aren't even my real dad! You're not the boss of me!", Sarah replies, her tears just barely being held back by anger and frustration.

I step closer to her, near the edge of the bed. She cowers back a bit, covering herself with the sheets once more, before I speak again, "Sarah, I've raised and cared for you since you were born. I'm not your father, but I'm the man that stepped up to the plate. Your mother would be horrified if she saw how you've been behaving." I almost crack with these words, the thought of my late wife bringing thoughts of sadness, and regret.

"Whatever. I'm an adult. I can do what I want." she says, looking away from me.

"Not under my roof, you can't. As long as you live here, I'm in charge, and what I say goes. When you move out, you can do whatever the hell you like. Until then, we're setting some ground rules." I say, sternly.