A dribble of creamy spunk clung to the cockhead when she peeled the rubber off. She thought he'd unloaded a quart. She peeked, but his balls didn't look that big. She was leaning down to lick off the fuck juice when she heard a noise.

He heard it too.

"Oh shit!"

Someone else was in the house, not sneaking quietly, but making normal noises like they lived here.

Casey scooted off the bed. "Where's my clothes?"

Panic time. He'd tossed them all over the room. Fun at the time, but not now. It took only minutes to get presentable, look at each other with a worried grin, tuck his shirt in on the left side and go out to face their doom.

"Hi, kids! Have a good time?"

Casey started to answer, but Daryl did at the same time, and she realized with horror that he was saying something different, so she shut up and the whole room went dead silent. His old man left with a wave. Casey studied his mother, Monique.

"Nice to stay home once in a while, nothing frantic, just quiet and nice. We heard something that sounded like a scream, but it must have been the radio or TV." She looked at Casey with that sweet, gooey smile again. "Daryl should rest up for his meet."

"Yeah." Casey had been trying to forget about the meet. He would be gone for days. It would have been bad enough before, but now that she'd discovered fucking and wouldn't have him to fuck, it would be a total bummer.

She stumbled through some polite shit and then Daryl said they'd better get her home.

At the door, Daryl had her hand and was leading her out when the firmest, most definite and unashamed pat hit her left asscheek.