They're Here!!!!

Author's Note: I've updated this chapter to add a little tension and improve the transition phase with the parents. I hope that this is an improvement.

Heather and I had just tucked away the last stray cushion and straightened up the dining table when a rhythmic knock echoed through our quiet hallway. The sound prompted Heather to glide over to the door, where she swung it open to reveal our parents standing there in the golden light of the late afternoon. They wore wide, genuine smiles that crinkled the corners of their eyes, and without missing a beat, both of them stepped forward to wrap us in warm, familiar hugs. Despite the flutter of anxiety I’d been feeling about how their visit might ruffle the calm Heather and I had built in our home, seeing them—our beloved parents—instantly filled me with a sense of relief and joy.

After exchanging heartfelt greetings, we all set about the familiar routine: helping them with their well-worn suitcases and travel bags, carrying each into the guest room with gentle chuckles and teasing remarks about our own penchant for misplacing things. Soon enough, we gathered in the living room, where the late afternoon sunlight filtered through the windows and bathed us in a soft glow. I offered to pour some drinks, and in a graceful flurry of activity, my dad reached eagerly for a glass of smoky scotch, while my mom and sister opted for glasses of crisp white wine. I leaned back with a chilled beer, the cool condensation on my bottle a small comfort amid the myriad emotions of the day.

As we sipped our drinks and let conversation flow naturally, the room buzzed with a mix of familiar banter and reflective laughter. True to form, my mother began to dominate the conversation, weaving stories with animated gestures and a melodic cadence that echoed through the room. My dad, embodying his usual quiet, steadfast presence, simply nodded along. His silence was punctuated only by low, approving hums and the occasional side-eye glance at the television, where a football game played just out of earshot.

Between sips of wine and bursts of laughter, I found myself observing my parents anew—as if my recent experiences in Eden Valley had sharpened my vision. My father, Frank, though only 46, carried himself with the commanding stature of someone who had lived many lives. He stood tall, broad-shouldered, and his salt-and-pepper hair framed a face marked by both strength and quiet wisdom; his neatly trimmed goatee, now mostly grey, added an air of distinguished maturity. Then there was my mother, Helen, who, despite being just 44, captivated my attention in a way I’d never allowed myself to admit before. I’d always known of her beauty—from whispered accolades among my childhood friends—but now each detail struck me vividly. Standing around 5’9”, her elegant posture belied the modesty of her carefully chosen ensemble: a full-length skirt paired with a blouse buttoned almost imperceptibly up to her neck. Yet beneath the conservative fabric, the contours of her voluptuous figure—her ample bosom, narrow waist, and gracefully curved hips—spoke softly of timeless allure. When she laughed, her entire face would light up, and I couldn’t help but notice how her chest moved gently, an alluring testament to her femininity that stirred feelings within me I tried desperately to ignore.

The pleasant cadence of our conversation was suddenly interrupted by a thoughtful pause from my mother. Her tone softened on the words, laced with kindness but edged with a stubborn concern. “It’s wonderful to be here with you two,” she began, her eyes scanning our modest home, “but I must admit, I find this place rather unusual. And that so-called orientation… it left me feeling rather unsettled. I’m not sure this environment is right for you.” Her words fell into the quiet room like pebbles, drawing a swift, knowing glance between Heather and me.

“You went through the orientation?” I asked, leaning forward as curiosity and concern mingled in my tone.

“Yes, indeed,” she replied, her voice fluttering with a mix of indignation and unease. “They insisted we all take it just to gain entry. Cheryl was so forceful about it that I felt downright uncomfortable.”

A slow, measured nod from my father punctuated the moment with a faint “mmm-hmm” that reflected his habitual quiet skepticism. Heather, ever the optimist, interjected with a soft, encouraging smile. “I’m sure once you meet the neighbors and our friends, you’ll see how charming this little community can be. Just give it a chance.”

My mother’s expression became more serious, worry etching lines into her otherwise youthful face. “I suppose we’ll see,” she murmured. “But I can’t help feeling that this might not be the best setting for either of my children, especially you, Heather.” Her gaze, tender but sad, shifted from one of us to the other, revealing the fatigue of a long journey mirrored in the subtle slump of her shoulders.

Her final statement was gentle yet firm. “Kids, we’ve traveled far and we’re all worn out. We’ll have plenty of time to sort through our thoughts these next two weeks, but for now, your father and I need some rest.” She stifled a yawn as if it were an afterthought to an already heavy conversation.

“Yeah, I'm bushed,” my father agreed, his low voice drawing the day to a soft, contemplative end amidst the lingering aroma of scotch and shared history.

Heather and I led our parents through the house, pointing out the fresh paint in the living room and the new fixtures in the kitchen. Mom took a shower first. Her silk robe clung to her damp skin. The sash tied haphazardly allowed the fabric to shift and sway with each step, offering glimpses of her cleavage and the soft curves hidden beneath. The smooth silk did little to conceal the shape of her nipples. I tried to focus on her face, but my gaze kept drifting downwards. She leaned in to kiss me goodnight, her large, soft breasts pressing against my chest. A wave of heat washed over me, and I felt a stirring in my groin. I hoped she didn't notice as she pulled away, her eyes meeting mine briefly before she retreated into the bedroom, the door clicking shut behind her.

Heather's fingers dug into my arm, tugging me down the hall towards our room. She shut the door quietly. Her breath was warm on my ear as she whispered, "That wasn't so bad, and am I crazy or do our parents look really hot?"

"Yeah, I guess so," I mumbled, trying to shake the image of Mom's robe from my mind.

Heather's hand snaked down my pants, her fingers wrapping around my hardness. "You little perv, you were staring at Mom's tits," she accused, a smirk playing on her lips.

"I... I couldn't help it," I stammered, feeling my face flush. "They're... they're kinda big."

Heather grinned, her eyes sparkling with mischief. "Hell yeah, they are. And Dad's looking pretty good too. Makes you wonder what he’s packing under there." She guided my hand into her pants, her slick heat pressing against my fingers. "Feel that? That's all for you, Sam."

"Wait, Heather," I cautioned, my voice low. "We need to be careful. We should make sure they're asleep first. And you know you can't be quiet." I paused, an idea forming in my mind. "I might need to gag you."

Heather's eyes widened with excitement. "Sam, you naughty boy. I'm already so turned on. Gagging me sounds hot. Too bad we packed away all the toys. You'll have to use a scarf or something." She bit her lip, her breath hitching.

She padded to the door and cracked it open. I watched as she tiptoed down the hall, her ear pressed against our parents' door. She waved me over. "They looked pretty tired," she whispered. "Let's see if they're asleep yet."

"Listen closely!" she whispered with urgency. Pressing my ear against the door, my heart pounded as I eavesdropped on my parents' tense conversation. "Frank, this town gives me the creeps. That orientation was downright unsettling, and the secretary, Cheryl, acted inappropriately bold. It was deeply disturbing," my mother declared, her voice laced with vehement disapproval.

"Helen," my father replied gently, a hint of weariness in his voice, "I feel your unease, and I'm with you. But our children are grown now, and we can't dictate their every move. Let's talk to them tomorrow and share our concerns. Things might not be as dire as they seem. That orientation was probably exaggerated. Besides, we came here to reconnect with our kids and unwind. It’s been ages since we’ve had a real break."

"You might have a point, Frank," my mother conceded softly, though tension still lingered. "But that Cheryl was just so... indecent. She had intentions... intentions towards you... towards us! More than intentions! It's outrageous! What might our children be getting into here? The thought terrifies me."

"I understand, dear. It's been an exhausting day, and I think rest will do us good. We can devise a plan tomorrow when our minds are clearer. Remember when we were young and reckless? You had your bold moments too, if memory serves. You've still got it, you know. Even now, despite my fatigue, I'm enchanted by you."

"Heather, we should leave," I whispered urgently in her ear, anxious to escape.

"Shhhh... Not yet!" she insisted, raising a finger to her lips with a mischievous gleam in her eye. "I need to know how this unfolds. Everything hinges on what happens next."

"Alright, alright," I relented, curiosity piquing my resolve as I continued to listen intently.

I heard the springs of their mattress creak under a sudden weight, followed by our mother's squeak of surprise. "Frank! What has gotten into you?" Her voice was a blend of shock and curiosity, accompanied by the rustle of fabric—a blouse being tossed to the floor, perhaps, or pants being shed.

"Helen," my father murmured, his voice low and husky. "It's been how long since we've had time like this? We're on vacation. You look breathtaking in this moonlight and I am incredibly aroused. What's stopping us from having a little fun right now?" I could imagine him, his eyes dark with desire, pulling her close, his hands gripping her waist and slipping beneath her skirt.

Mother's breath hitched, a soft gasp escaping her lips. "But, Frank, the kids... they might hear us. I... I can't. Not here, not now." Her voice wavered, but there was a hint of longing, a whisper of surrender. I could picture her, eyes closed, leaning into his touch, her resolve melting like wax under a flame.

"You don't sound very convinced, Helen," Father replied, his voice breathless. I heard the creak of the mattress again, as if he had leaned in, his body pressing against hers. "The kids are in their own rooms. I don't care if they hear us or not. I need you, Helen. Oh my God! You're so wet."

Mother's protests dissolved into a low moan, a sound of pure, unadulterated pleasure. "Oh, Frank. Oh, Frank! Yes. Don't stop. Uuuhhhh...." Her voice trailed off into a series of gasps and moans, the sound of her control unraveling, surrendering to her desires.

I stepped back from the door, my heart pounding in my chest. I looked at Heather, her eyes wide with a mix of shock and excitement. I was about to lead her back to our room when she stopped me, her hand on my arm. She sank to her knees, her fingers fumbling with my belt, before freeing me from my jeans. I gasped as she took me into her mouth, her lips warm and wet.

I tangled my fingers in her hair, gently pulling her off. "Not here," I whispered, my voice hoarse with desire. We stumbled back to our room, a tangle of limbs and **** kisses. I kicked the door shut behind us, my heart pounding in my ears.

Heather was wild, her nails digging into my back as I moved against her. I could hear our parents, their moans and gasps filling the air, a symphony of their passion. I reached for a tie, wrapping it around Heather's mouth, silencing her moans. Her eyes widened, but she didn't stop, her body bucking against mine.

I finished with a groan, spilling onto her stomach, our bodies slick with sweat. We collapsed onto the bed, our chests heaving as we struggled to catch our breath. The room was filled with the sound of our ragged breaths, a testament to our shared passion.

"Did you hear them going at it? Dad really had mom going!" Heather sighed, her voice a mix of disbelief and amusement. The night air was still, punctuated only by the distant hum of crickets, as the weight of what we had overheard settled between us.

"Yeah. I heard," I replied, still processing the unexpected turn of events. "They seemed so uptight when they got here. How are we going to talk about this with them?" The words felt heavy, like trying to navigate through uncharted waters.

"We aren't going to talk to them about it at all, silly," Heather said with a playful grin, her eyes glinting mischievously in the dim light. "We'll just let it play out. This'll be good for them. Judging from the sounds coming from their room, I think they are going to fit right in." Her confidence was infectious, though I still harbored my doubts.

"All right. We'll just have to see what happens. I'm still not sure they'll be OK with this place. Especially, mom," I conceded, glancing out the window where the moon cast silvery patterns on the ground. "Let's get some sleep tonight. You better go back to your room so that they don't find us together," I suggested, the plan sounding more like a plea for normalcy.

Parting with a deep, lingering kiss, we reluctantly separated. The warmth of her lips lingered as I settled into bed, my mind awash with curiosity and anticipation. As I closed my eyes, the gentle rustling of wind in the trees outside lulled me to sleep, leaving me to wonder what surprises the next day would bring.