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The Switch

My parents own a small clothing store that does quite well so I don't need a part-time job after school or in the summers. I used to work in the store but soon quit going because Dad often criticized me in front of the staff. He seemed pleased that I quit going even though he often worked late and could have used help doing the inventory. Mom often offered my services when Dad announced that he had to go back to the store in the evening but he always declined, which I appreciated.

Mom, however, wasn't too pleased. Eventually, together with other indicators, I came to believe that Mom suspected Dad of having an affair with one of the staff. Dad had hired a number of new people over the years since Mom had left the store and they were all fairly attractive women. With one exception, they were either single or single moms.

As with most good-looking women, Dad's suspected dalliances hurt Mom. I often had the TV to myself when we were home because Mom would retire to her room shortly after Dad went back to work. On the days when he stayed home, he often read and totally ignored her, despite her attempts to keep up her looks through exercise, diet, dressing nicely, and getting fancy hairdos, all to no avail. Mom became withdrawn and unhappy. My father was quite an asshole.

Despite Mom's depression, she maintained her health, always exercising and maintaining a healthy diet. However, her make-up suffered along with her wardrobe and her hair was often a mess. One day, I came home to find her with a very short cut that would have looked avant-garde on a woman with a more dynamic, positive outlook. I'm sure Mom had adopted the look simply because it was easier to care for and, in her mind, made her less feminine and therefore less attractive, thus explaining why her husband ignored her.

That triggered something inside me and I decided to find out for myself if Dad really was having an affair with one of the women at the store. Wouldn't it be great to confess to Mom that I had falsely suspected Dad so she would know that her private suspicions were also unfounded?

Half an hour after closing on a Friday night I entered the store through a back-alley window whose lock I knew to be faulty. I crept through the mezzanine where we kept lots of old displays and mannequins until I could look down upon the main storage area behind the retail area and into Dad's office off on the left side. The door to the office was open but I could have easily seen inside even if it was shut because the rear wall of the office was comprised of a large window so Dad could make sure nobody was slacking off. There was also a peek-hole into the main store designed to keep the staff vigilant.

Leaning back in his reclining swivel chair, Dad appeared to be thinking. He certainly wasn't working on the books because the desk in front of him was oddly clear except for a roll of blue shop towels standing up on one end.

A woman breezed through the swinging doors that separated the retail area from the rear of the store. I sighed in disappointment. Crap, it was Mrs. Omed. I had been expecting one of the younger girls or even one of the single moms, maybe especially one of them. Dad wouldn't be having a tryst with Mrs. Omed there. The night was lost. I'd have to try another time.

Mrs. Omed swept straight into Dad's office, cash box in hand, which surprised me. When I had worked at the store, everybody knocked and waited to be acknowledged before entering Dad's office, even if the door was open.

"Okay Ted, everything's locked up."

And that surprised me for a second time. Mrs. Omed called Dad by his first name, a huge no-no. He always called his staff by their first names but everyone had to call him Mr. Horlock.

"Tanya, how many times have I told you not to use my first name. You're going to slip up in front of one of the other girls one day and that won't be good."

It wasn't Dad's tolerance for Mrs. Omed's indiscretion that gave me my final shock. It was the way he had spun around in his chair, pants open and hard cock standing up, ready for action.

"Well, aren't we touchy today, Mr. Horlock," Mrs. Omed replied in a sassy voice.

"Enough playing around," Dad waved his hand impatiently. Mrs. Omed complied with his silent command, falling to her knees in front of him. Dad immediately grasped the sides of her head and pulled her face toward him but she resisted.

"I only have time for this tonight, Ted," she said, emphasizing Dad's first name. "Norm's rented a movie and is waiting to watch it with me."

"Yeah, yeah," Dad grunted, pulling Mrs. Omed's head onto his lap. "Ahhhh, that's it," he cried, straining his legs and shoving his hips up.

Mrs. Omed's head snapped back as her mouth filled with Dad's cock but he pulled her back down to the seat as he fell back and kept her there while he thrust his cock rapidly in and out of her face.

"Fuck, I've been waiting for this all day."

Mrs. Omed mumbled something I couldn't make out.

"God, you've got one fucking hot mouth, baby."

Mrs. Omed mumbled again. It looked like she was trying to pull off but Dad was gripping her hair firmly with his right hand, pulling her to and fro, while his left cupped the back of her head to block any unauthorized retreat.

"Yeah baby, take it deep."

Dad leaned forward and plunged his cock uncaringly in and out of Mrs. Omed's mouth. This went on for quite a while, the air filled with my father's heavy breathing and the occasional desperate gasp from Mrs. Omed when Dad released her long enough to gulp in some air.

Each time, Mrs. Omed's head was quickly recaptured, remaining free just long enough for her to breathe and sometimes turn sideways to drool onto the plastic carpet protector. This always seemed to catch Dad by surprise and he drilled Mrs. Omed in the cheek but before thrusting his hips forward to shove his cock, squelching noisily, back into her mouth while pulling on her head for good measure. Mrs. Omed took this rough treatment without complaint. She even unbuttoned her blouse and peeled it off her arms, while her head was locked in front of Dad's pistoning cock, and tossed it behind her. I guess she didn't want it to get covered in drool and then have to wear it home.

"I swear, you're the best little cocksucker I've ever had," Dad huffed and puffed.

Squelch, squelch, squelch.

"But I'm still going to fuck you before you go, Norm or no Norm."

Mrs. Omed yanked her head back, surprisingly breaking free of Dad's grip, and spit on the floor.

"No you're not," she gasped. "I told you, I'm going home."

"Just a quickie on the desk."

"No," Mrs. Omed sputtered.

"Come on. You know you love it from behind."

"No," Mrs. Omed insisted.

"Okay, but then you have to take it in the face."

"For fuck sakes, Ted. You know I hate that."

"Hey, you're the one that wants Christmas off."

Mrs. Omed unsnapped her bra and shucked it.

"Do it on my tits," she said.

I actually stretched up and craned my neck in an attempt to see better despite the danger of being seen. I remembered that Mrs. Omed had a very full blouse for such a petite woman and I wanted to see her tits. I bet they were something to behold, slung low and overly meaty for her size. However, her back was mostly to me and all I could see were the sides of her melons as they swayed in front of her. My cock was hard as a rock.

"In the face if you want to go home to Normie right away."

Dad twisted his head and looked at the roll of blue shop towels he had set in the middle of his desk. Mrs. Omed followed his gaze. I always wondered why Dad kept shop towels on his desk instead of Kleenex. I had thought it was because they were cheaper but now I knew better. Dad must have been doing this for years, even when Mom and I worked at the store. Vague memories surfaced of Dad insisting that I go home with Mom while he stayed late to "clean up a few things." I guess he had a weird sense of humor.

Mrs. Omed flashed Dad what I suspected was a dirty look. "Asshole," she said, but her posture slumped in resignation.

Dad grabbed Mrs. Omed by the top of her hair and pulled her onto his cock. The squelching started anew with increased vigor and when Mrs. Omed tried to pull her head away Dad followed her, rising out of his chair. Mrs. Omed fell back on her haunches and Dad stood over her, still holding her hair while jacking his cock, getting ready to spew all over her face.

"Wait, Ted, wait!"

Mrs. Omed struggled up to her feet. "Not on my face," she said, gasping. "I don't want to get it in my hair."

"Get back down and take it," Dad barked, breathing so raggedly I thought he was going to have a heart attack.

"No," Mrs. Omed was defiant.

"You little bitch," Dad yelled, trying to force Mrs. Omed back onto her knees with a hand still gripping her hair.

"Ted don't," Mrs. Omed cried, bending over, facing the ground, but refusing to get on her knees.

Dad tried to twist her face up so he could unload but relented, the moment of release obviously passing him by. He swore and instead of letting Mrs. Omed stand up, he dragged her head around and pushed her onto the desk, shouting, "You better wipe the drool off your fucking face before going home to Normie."

Mrs. Omed's head knocked the roll of shop towels over but she grabbed it before it rolled off the desk, tore off a couple of sheets, and started wiping the drool off her face. Dad watched her ass wiggle as she rubbed, patted her behind, and then slipped his right hand under her skirt.

"Stop it. I told you I don't have time."

"I'm just getting you primed for Normie."

"Don't be an asshole," Mrs. Omed snapped, ripping off another sheet of shop towel.

I was surprised that Mrs. Omed didn't bat Dad's hand away. It was already moving under her skirt, rubbing back and forth but Mrs. Omed continued cleaning her face and seemed oblivious to his shenanigans.

"You've got a great ass, Tanya. When are you gonna let me have it?"


"Don't hold your breath waiting for Normie to do it."

Dad did something under Mrs. Omed's skirt that made her lurch forward.

"Ted, I said no," Mrs. Omed barked.

"Come on, you'll love it," Dad husked.

Dad's hand rubbed in a slow, exaggerated arc, moving Mrs. Omed's whole body to and fro. His other hand lifted her skirt and I could see her butt with his ...
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