You come, then your father walks in

Screw Michael. Or rather, don't screw him. He can deal with his cock himself. You surrender to the warm feeling building inside you, and in no time at all, you have the best orgasm you've had in days. Your best vibrator is no match for Christina's expert ministrations, and not for the first time you wonder why the two of you don't do this when you're all alone.

As you lie there in Christina's arms, recovering and relaxing, you hear a grunt as Michael gets his own release, followed by a, "Shit," probably because he's gotten cum on something important. You're too busy making out with Christina to care, though, and too distracted by her sweet and sweaty body to hear the door open. When Michael swears a second time, you just ignore him.

But you can't ignore the voice you've heard every day for 19 years when it says, "Ally? Christina? What the fuck's going on here?"

"Daddy?" you squeak, automatically slipping into that tone between cute and wheedling that makes your father see you as a cute and innocent young girl. Your tits and ass jiggle as you stand up and face your father. Standing next to and slightly behind him is a third man; if his unkempt, mad-scientist hair is any indicate, he is the eccentric doctor your father is here to meet. He watches the unfolding situation with an undisguised look of lust.

Kenneth Cartwright stands six feet, two inches tall and looks like he works out, because he does. He's wearing a polo shirt and slacks that try to toe the line between "serious business" and "tropical fucking island" wear and on a lesser man they wouldn't work. He pulls them off, just like he pulls off the stoic-but-semi-murderous expression on his face. You've seldom seen him this ... incensed. And you know it isn't even because he's walked in on you fucking Christina in front of a flunky. No, far be it for the great Kenneth Cartwright to actually care that his daughter is a slut. Instead, he's upset because you've surprised him, thrown him off his game, and potentially embarrassed him in front of a subordinate. In his alpha-male world, that kind of behaviour is worse than mere sexual shenanigans.

"Answer me, Ally. What are you doing up here? Where are you clothes?"

Christina has, during this momentary detente, helpfully been gathering up your few articles of clothing from where they fell earlier. Having secured her own bikini, she hands yours to you. You take them but don't dress, instead crossing your arms and assuming a slightly confrontational stance.

"We got bored down on the beach, so we decided to come up here."

"You know the lab is off-limits. And that doesn't explain your nudity."

You can't help but smile. "I didn't realize my tits were so threatening to you, daddy." You uncross your arms and cup them in your hands, squeezing the orbs slightly as you lift and separate them. Both Michael and the unnamed doctor can't help but make a strangled sound.

Kenneth takes a single step forward. He lowers his voice. He doesn't shout when he is angry; he gets quieter. "Put your fucking clothes back on, then go back to the cabin, and don't come out until I get back there. I'll deal with the two of you after I'm done here."

Because, again, your transgressions take a back seat to inspecting some mouldy lab in the middle of nowhere. You bite back a retort that you know would push him over the edge and make things even worse for you. Shrinking in stature as you relax your posture, you put your bikini back on and fling your sarong over your shoulder. Then you and Christina leave the lab. You hear your father making insincere apologies to the men as you leave--but you know that, later, Michael is going suddenly going to wish he had chosen another line of work.

You and Christina walk back to the cabin mostly in silence. Then Christina says, "What do you think he's going to do?"

"Oh, you know. The usual: a lecture on how I'm irresponsible and never listen and how I've let him down. He'll question my ability to get through college if I stay like this, and point to my mother as an example of my fate if I 'stay on this path.' And then he'll get tender, and blame himself, and buy me something expensive to make up for the fact that he isn't around."

Christina nods. She is used to your father's tirades by now, having witnessed enough of them. You are used to them, to the point where you no longer care.

"The most fucked up thing is that he dragged me out here to 'spend time with me', but so far all he's done is left us alone and buried his head in that lab. I wouldn't actually mind if he wanted to hang out and treat me like an adult for once rather than a fucking child who needs supervision."

More silence, and then Christina says, "But ... you have to admit: totally worth it, right?"

"I honestly didn't think that guy would last as long as he did. When I stuck my fingers up your ass his eyes bulged so much I thought he'd pop then and there!"

"Speaking of that ... that was something else."

You grin. "So you liked that, did you? Little bit of a repressed anal slut, are we?"

Christina pushes you. "Shut up."

So your good humour has returned by the time the two of you arrive back at the cabin, and the prospect of your father's delayed anger doesn't loom so large in your mind. You have no idea how long he'll be. The sun is beginning to creep towards the horizon; in a few hours it will be dark You wouldn't be surprised if he isn't back until then, and you're damned if you'll sit quietly in your room and await punishment like a good girl.

"What should we do now?" you ask Christina.

You could use a shower after your little adventure. You also haven't eaten anything since breakfast.