Forbidden Fruit

Forbidden Fruit

*** CONTENT WARNING ***

First of all, thank you for reading!

Forbidden Fruit explores taboo themes, including infidelity, a sexual relationship between a woman and her boyfriend's father, there's a significant age gap, cheating, and exhibitionistic and voyeuristic elements.

This is an entirely fictional work of erotic fantasy, intended for mature adult readers only.

The story explores forbidden desires for the sake of escapism, not as an endorsement of its characters' choices. If any of these themes aren't your thing, or are likely to offend you, consider this your cue to turn back now.

Still here? Get comfortable, top up your cider, and pull your chair a little closer to the fire.

This story is an entry in the Halloween 2026 contest.

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OCTOBER 27TH | 4 DAYS TO HALLOWEEN...

I could feel the hard edge of his cock as I ran my hands over the soft fabric. I was physically shaking from being so turned on.

My boyfriend, Daniel was sprawled out on the bed beneath me, looking up with a tired smile as I straddled him and eased myself into position.

"Lil..." He brushed his hands over my hips. "It's been a long day. I'm not sure I've got much energy left."

"Then just lie back." I leaned down, pressing a kiss to his mouth. "Let me ride you."

His smile widened, and he gave my hips a gentle squeeze. I grinned back, grasping the waistband of his pyjama shorts and tugging them down as he lifted his hips to help me.

His half-hard cock sprang free and I immediately latched onto it. His skin felt hot and smooth between my palms as I ran them along his length, watching the way the head swelled at my touch. I continued to stroke him slowly until a clear bead of precum gathered at the tip. I smeared it with my thumb and instinctively brought it up to my mouth.

He tasted good, but I knew I needed more. Every second where he wasn't inside me felt agonisingly long.

I slid my hands down and hooked my thumbs under the waistband of my own pyjama shorts, pushing them down past my ankles before kicking them free.

Reaching down, I dragged the head of his cock across my exposed skin.

It felt like such sweet relief. I was still dripping from earlier in the day, and I knew the moment I pressed myself against him he would glide straight in.

"What happened to your underwear?" he asked suddenly.

I froze, suddenly aware of my fuck-up.

I couldn't exactly tell him the truth. That they were lying in a sodden heap on the packing-barn floor in the cider orchard where I'd disposed of them earlier so I could finger myself over the sorting table until my thighs were shaking, shiny with my own mess and sticky with apple juice.

"Nothing," I muttered, and sunk down onto him to shut him up and cut off any chance of a follow-up question.

"Fuck, Lil..."

He groaned under me as his hands settled on my hips.

I started riding him hard, not giving either of us time to adjust. The friction was perfect. The stretch was perfect. And still it wasn't enough. The tension that had built earlier was still refusing to break.

I planted my hands on his chest and fucked myself on him harder.

"What's gotten into you?" he asked, breathless.

"I'm just really fucking horny."

Not a lie.

I closed my eyes and tried to focus. Come on. Just fucking come.

"Yeah?"

I opened my eyes and gave him the best smile I could fake while my pussy clenched greedily around his cock and my mind stayed frustratingly elsewhere.

"Yeah."

I dug my knees into the mattress and rode him harder still. The old wooden bed complained under every slam of my hips, the headboard knocking against the wall in a rhythmic thud-thud-thud.

His cock was hitting deeper with every thrust, exactly where I needed it. Sweat slid down the valley between my breasts. My clit dragged against his pelvis and sparks shot up my spine. Almost. Almost...

Daniel's hands tightened on my hips, trying to steady me.

"Lil, slow down. The bed..."

I didn't. I couldn't. I leaned forward, braced my hands beside his head, and fucked myself against his dick in short vicious strokes that made the headboard bang louder against the wall.

Thud-thud-thud.

The whole frame shuddered. My thighs burned. Frustration sat hot in my gut.

"Don't stop," I growled. "Just... let me..."

"Lil." He tried to hold my hips and slow the pace but I slapped his hand away.

"Hey, easy. We're gonna wake the whole house."

Thud-thud-THUD-THUD-THUD.

I was so close it hurt, and still it wasn't enough. I kept moving, chasing it. The bed knocked harder.

THUD-THUD-THUD-THUD-THUD-THUD.

There was still something missing, I could feel my orgasm hovering just out of reach.

Daniel's voice dropped, urgent and embarrassed.

"Seriously, Lil! Easy... My dad's right down the hall. He'll hear us."

Something inside me snapped and I came so hard my vision whited out.

A choked cry tore from my throat as I clamped down on his cock. Pleasure crashed through me in violent spasms causing my toes to curl as I shamelessly rode through it while the headboard continued to knock weakly against the wall.

My whole body locked as I milked his dick through what felt like a never-ending orgasm. It kept coming, cresting again and again, until I was trembling and teetering on the edge of consciousness.

I collapsed forward onto his chest, my body still twitching with aftershocks.

"Fucking hell, Lil..." he murmured against my hair. "Are you okay?"

I didn't answer. Just kept my face buried in his neck, my heart slamming against my ribs.

I tried not to think about the terrifyingly simple realisation that had dawned on me. It was so dreadfully wrong and yet I couldn't seem to stop thinking about it.

I knew it could never happen.

So why couldn't I stop imagining what it would be like if it did?

********************************************

NOVEMBER 3RD | PRESENT DAY

Dusk descends slowly over the orchard. I watch as the final streaks of sunset fade beyond the treetops as the minutes tick by. Beyond the reach of the firelight, rows of apple trees stand in long rows, their branches black against the deepening blue of the sky, bare from the recent harvest.

"Okay. What happened?"

I can barely meet Charlotte's eyes as the question hangs between us. Instead, my gaze slips past her and settles on the flames as they twist and spit embers into the cool night air.

It's late.

The jagged silhouette of the farmhouse looms at the far side of the orchard, far enough away that our voices should be swallowed by the open air.

Still, I keep glancing towards the dirt path, half-expecting Martin, or worse, Daniel, to appear and hear every word of my confession.

The kitchen light went out nearly an hour ago. Then, one by one, the upstairs windows followed, until the farmhouse had settled into complete darkness.

It should just be us now.

We've dragged two dusty wooden chairs out from the storage shed and positioned them on the grass by the far fence line. Now the chill has settled over the fields, and the small fire crackling between us is the only thing keeping it at bay.

I pull my chair closer and crack open my third cider of the evening. The cap emits a slow hiss as I press the underside with my keys.

"Lil? What was it you wanted to tell me?"

Charlotte repeats the question, leaning towards me now and resting her elbows on the exposed skin above the ripped knees of her jeans. I can see the concern etched across her face.

"I just..." The words catch in my throat.

We've been friends since the first autumn Daniel brought me here, right back when we first started dating, five years ago. Charlotte and I had hit it off almost immediately. It wasn't long before we were thick as thieves.

"I just don't know how to tell you." I fold my arms across my chest, jostling the bottle in my hand and spilling cider down my sleeve.

"Shit."

I wipe at the spot with my thumb, suddenly finding the sticky patch on my arm far easier to focus on than my friend sitting opposite me.

"You're going to think less of me."

"Lil, I'm not going to think less of you," she insists.

I let out a quiet sigh.

Charlotte studies me for a moment. "Oh, God. It's something really bad, isn't it?"

I say nothing.

"Lil."

"Yeah." I swallow hard. "It's pretty bad."

I stare into the fire, watching as the flames lick hungrily at the logs. For a moment, I wonder if I'd be more comfortable amongst the tinder, letting the flames engulf me too.

"Charlotte... I don't even know where to start."

"Then start at the beginning."

I wince. There wasn't one beginning. There were several.

"Okay." I take a slow breath. "I don't know when it started. Not really. But a week ago something happened."

The smell of woodsmoke fades. I'm back in the packing barn.

********************************************

OCTOBER 27TH | 4 DAYS TO HALLOWEEN...

It looked like rain.

The late autumn sky had bruised into a dark, heavy slate, thick with clouds that threatened to break over the hills at any moment.

With the double barn doors pulled open, the packing barn offered almost no protection from the cool wind that had been building all afternoon. It carried the smell of wet earth and sent crisp amber leaves skittering across the flagstones.

I pulled my sweater sleeves down over my knuckles and kept my eyes on the conveyor belt, sorting through the endless stream of Bramleys. Good apples went into the wash basin. Bruised or rotten ones got tossed into the crate beneath the table.

Hours of work had stained my fingers and left my back stiff, but I felt more alive out here than I ever did sitting at a desk in the city.

Fifth harvest. What started as Daniel's way of spending more time with his dad had become the weeks of the year that I looked forward to most.

Charlotte was out in the orchard with him now, racing the weather to bring in the last of the crop. She came back every harvest, just as she had growing up. Her siblings would spend their autumns working on the farm before they all went off to find jobs of their own. Now it was just her.

Across from me, Martin was hunched over the hydraulic press, pulling the lever and sending a stream of golden juice into the glass carboys below.

Martin was Daniels father.

At fifty-three, he was still broad-shouldered and strong from years of working on the farm. The only visible sign of his age were the flecks of grey that had begun to show through his dark hair.

Martin was quieter than Daniel, happy to get on with things without much conversation, moving from one job to the next at his own pace. The long hours and repetitive work never seemed to bother him. If anything, I got the impression he liked having something simple for his mind to focus on.

I'd taken to Martin immediately when I first met him. He'd always been kind to me, welcoming me into his little sanctuary away from the noise and bustle of the city.

There was something calming about being around him and we often worked alongside each other for hours without needing to fill the silences.

And yet, somewhere over the past few days, something had shifted. I couldn't put my finger on exactly when it had happened, or what it was, but suddenly I was noticing Martin in a way I never had before.

Right now, it was the way his forearms flexed as he worked the press and that rough look of concentration on his face as he worked. The air between us felt charged, like the moment before a storm.

A low rumble of thunder rolled across the fields.

I glanced across the barn. Martin was still hunched over the press, completely absorbed in his work.

The sight sent another stupid rush through me and I looked away, annoyed with myself.

What the hell was wrong with me?

The wind picked up causing branches to scrape against the barn doors. Then the rain hit, coming down in a sudden, deafening sheet, hammering against the roof and turning the orchard beyond the doors into a blur of grey.

Another sharp crack split the sky overhead, forcing Martin to finally look up from his work.

"Should we go out and help?" I asked, eyeing the black sky. "They're going to get soaked."

Martin squinted into the downpour.

"What, and deprive them of the full farm experience?" He gave a quiet laugh and hauled one of the doors shut against the worst of the wind and rain. "They'll dry out. We'll get the fire going later."

********************************************

"And we did get completely soaked, by the way."

Charlotte's voice cuts through the memory.

"Right." I laugh softly. "You both came back looking like drowned rats."

"Yeah? Well next time you're on picking I hope you enjoy spending several hours up a ladder in the pissing rain."

"Harvest's done. Maybe next year?"

"Fuck off." She raises her eyebrows. "So, where's this story going?"

I take another sip of cider.

"Well, while you and Daniel took cover in the shed. Martin and I were left in the barn."

Charlotte's smile fades slightly.

"And?"

I stare into the flames.

"And... nothing happened. We talked. Waited for the rain to pass. But I couldn't stop thinking about him."

Her face goes still with shock.

"Thinking about him how?"

I swallow. "You know, thinking about him."

She goes very still.

"Look, I know how bad that sounds."

"Lil..."

"I know, I know." I look back at the fire. "I just... every time he reached past me for a crate, or his arm brushed against mine, I..." I shake my head. "My whole body just lit up."

********************************************

The rain had barely eased to a drizzle when Martin wiped his hands on a rag and told me to stay put while he brought the truck around. There was no point in me getting soaked as well.

I tried to keep sorting after he left but my hands were shaking too badly.

I lasted maybe a minute before I crumbled.

Then I was shoving the nearest crate of Bramleys aside, hopping up onto the sorting table, and yanking my jeans and already-soaked underwear down. I tossed them onto the flagstones without a second glance and spread my knees wide on the scarred wood. One hand braced behind me, the other went straight between my legs.

The first two fingers sank in easily. Then a third. I fucked myself hard and fast, grinding my thumb against my clit. Every time I closed my eyes I saw Martin's hands on the press lever, except now they were on me, gripping my hips and pinning me to the table as he lined the blunt head of his cock up against my entrance, ready to force me open.

I came so hard I knocked the crate clean off the table sending apples hurtling across the flagstones.

My own cum flooded out around my fingers, mixing with the thin film of apple juice that coated the wood. I continued to work myself through it, chasing a second orgasm until my wrist began to ache and my pussy could take no more. Only then did I pull my hand free and breathe a sigh of contentment.

The sudden growl of the truck's motor rounding the corner snapped me back. Panic surged as I scrambled off the table, grabbed my jeans and hauled them up over my bare ass. I was standing there trying my best to look normal when Martin stepped back through the door, completely forgetting the damp heap of underwear still lying on the floor.

********************************************

Charlotte is staring at me. "You did what?"

"I know, I know. It's bad." I cringe, lifting my bottle to hide behind it.

"Were you thinking about Martin?"

I go silent.

"Fuck. Lil"

"I can't explain it." I lower the bottle. "It was like my whole body was aching. I've never felt anything like it. I mean, I've been horny before, obviously, but this was different. It was like this crazy fucking itch, I needed to deal with it then and there."

"And did that deal with your... problem?"

I sigh.

"That night with Daniel. I..." I hesitate. "I--" This was going to sound really bad. "I couldn't stop thinking about him."

"Martin?"

"I know how it sounds."

"Do you, Lil? Because it kind of sounds like you're telling me that you were fucking your boyfriend while thinking about his dad."

I look up at the night sky, anywhere but her face. Hearing it said aloud is somehow both horrifying and thrilling.

"It's not like I planned it. We started and it felt good. Daniel always feels good. But I just couldn't get the thought of Martin out of my head." I swallow. "I was still so wound up from earlier. From the barn. From everything."

Charlotte says nothing.

"I just couldn't... get there. I don't know." I stare into the fire.

'Seriously, Lil! Easy... My dad's right down the hall. He'll hear us.'

"I don't know if it was the thought of Martin hearing us, or just the mention of him." I shake my head. "Somehow that's what pushed me over the edge."

Charlotte is silent for a long moment. The only sound is the fire popping and the distant rustle of the orchard in the dark.

"Fucking hell," she says finally.

"Yeah."

"I'm assuming Daniel didn't know?"

"Obviously he didn't know." The words come out sharper than I mean them to. "Jesus, Charlotte."

She raises both hands. "Okay. Okay. I'm not judging you."

I look back at the fire.

"And the next day?" she asks. "You just carried on like nothing had happened?"

I watch a log collapse in on itself.

"I tried."

********************************************

OCTOBER 28TH | 3 DAYS TO HALLOWEEN...

That morning, I had a toasted cob with ricotta, cinnamon and blackberries, washed down with a glass of apple juice, fresh-pressed by Martin. If anyone had heard mine and Daniel's late night escapades, they hadn't let on.

Daniel was sat opposite me, scrolling through his work emails while he tucked into his own breakfast. Charlotte was already talking to Martin about the damage from the storm, working out which parts of the orchard needed attention first.

After breakfast, I made some excuse about wanting to get started early before pulling on my boots and heading down to the packing barn.

Officially, I was going to help clear the branches knocked down by the wind and get yesterday's remaining crop washed and sorted.

Unofficially, I wanted to retrieve my discarded underwear before anyone else found them.

By the time I reached the barn, the morning had settled into a dull grey gloom. Water clung to every branch, and the ground squelched beneath my boots. Droplets spilled from the eaves, overflowing the gutters and forming deep puddles around the doorway. Luckily, they gave me somewhere to rinse the mud from my boots.

I stamped them against the stone threshold before pushing open the heavy door where I was immediately greeted by the familiar smell of apples and damp wood.

Rounding the sorting bench, I quickly scanned the floor.

There were still a few bruised apples scattered around the table from where the crate had toppled over yesterday, but there was no sign of my hastily discarded underwear.

My stomach tightened.

They were definitely here.

I bent down to check beneath the shelving units, behind the crates, under the workbench.

Nothing.

I straightened slowly, staring at the empty patch of floor where I'd left them.

Fuck.

I was still standing there, minutes later, when the barn door scraped open behind me.

Martin stepped in, stamping mud from his boots. He wore the same faded work shirt as yesterday, this time with a dark canvas jacket over the top against the damp.

"You're keen this morning." A quiet laugh rumbled in his throat. "Here. Brought you your coffee."

I'd forgotten about the pot of coffee I'd left to boil in my haste to get here.

"Thanks, Martin." I took it from him.

He smiled, hanging his jacket on the hook beside the door.

"Everything all right, Lil? You seemed a bit distracted at breakfast."

"Yeah." The answer came too quickly. "I'm fine. Sorry. I didn't sleep very well."

He studied me for a moment, then gave a small nod.

I became painfully aware that I was still standing in the middle of the barn doing absolutely nothing.

"I was just looking for the brush," I said. "Thought I'd sweep up before we get started."

He glanced toward the far wall.

"It's on the hook."

I followed his gaze to the exact spot where it always hangs.

"Right." I cleared my throat. "Thanks."

I took the brush from the hook and got to work. The bristles scraped across the damp stone as I pushed bruised apples and leaves into a small pile.

After a minute, I glanced over my shoulder and clocked Martin watching me. Our eyes met and he looked away almost immediately, turning his attention to the press.

"You made a real mess in here yesterday," he said.

"Huh?" My heart lurched so hard I felt it in my teeth.

He nodded toward the scatter of bruised apples at the end of my brush stroke.

I kept sweeping, slower now. Heat crawled up the back of my neck.

"I knocked a crate over," I said. "When I was finishing up."

Martin made a quiet sound of acknowledgement. He moved closer and stopped a few feet away before crouching to pick up one of the bruised apples, turning it in his hand.

My knuckles had gone white from gripping on the broom handle so hard. I could feel the familiar pulse between my legs again, the same one that had driven me onto the table yesterday. The thought made my face burn.

Martin set the apple on the edge of the sorting table, then rested both hands on the wood, leaning his weight forward slightly.

"I think you left something else behind too," he said quietly.

The broom went still in my hands. I set it against the table, buying myself a few useless seconds.

Martin stayed exactly where he was, watching me with that same unreadable expression.

"I'm not sure if I know what you mean," I lied.

Had he gone back out to the barn last night? I'd not heard him leave.

"Well." A pause. "I'm assuming they weren't Daniel's."

Heat flooded my face so fast it made me dizzy. My pulse hammered in my throat, my wrists, between my legs.

"I can explain..."

"There's no need."

The kindness in his voice somehow made it worse.

"I put them aside," he said. "Top drawer of the desk. Didn't want anyone else finding them."

I stared at him, searching for disgust, anger, anything I could brace against. There was nothing.

"I'm sorry," I started. "I shouldn't have..."

There was no clean way to finish the sentence. I'm sorry for leaving my cum-soaked underwear in the middle of the floor for you to find? I shouldn't have gotten naked and fucked myself on your sorting table?

Martin's voice stayed low.

"I'm not mad, Lil. I've known you a long time. You really don't need to explain yourself."

"I just... I don't know what to say."

"You don't have to say anything." His gaze held mine. "They're in the drawer. We can forget it ever happened."

My face burned. The image of him picking them up, still damp and smelling of me hit me harder than it should have. I pictured him handling them as he decided what to do with them. Would he have known what I did?

"Everything just hit at once and I wasn't thinking, I'm sorry. I..." I stammered, crossing my arms tight against my chest in a futile attempt to pull myself together. "You probably think I'm some sort of sick, disgusting..."

"I don't think you're any of that," he interrupted, breaking me from my spiral.

"If you want the truth," he said, lowering his voice, "the last word I'd use to describe how I felt finding them would be disgusted."

Erm, what?

"Martin..."

The rest dissolved in my throat.

He looked away for a second, then dragged a calloused hand over his mouth and forced himself to take a step back.

"I'm sorry." The calm was gone from his voice. "I shouldn't have said that. You're my..."

"It's... it's fine," I breathed, though my voice betrayed me, coming out as a strained whisper. I braced myself against the edge of the sorting table just to keep my knees from giving out.

My brain was wildly trying to catch up.

"Let's forget all of this happened" he said, "I really didn't mean anything by it."

"Yeah," I nodded.

My legs were lead as I turned toward his desk. A fresh wave of heat flooded my face when I pulled open the stiff drawer and was met with the sight of my underwear stacked atop a stack of invoice pads.

I reached in and lifted them out, shuddering with embarrassment.

Martin had at least turned his back, giving me the small privacy of not watching. I shoved the lace deep into the front pocket of my jeans wondering if I could just squeeze myself into the apple press and turned myself into pulp.

When I turned, our eyes met again. He opened his mouth like he might say something else before we heard voices outside the barn.

Footsteps crunched against the gravel and the sound of Daniel's laugh floated in.

Panic struck me. The pocket of my jeans suddenly felt impossibly thin, the shape of the lace felt like it was practically burning through the denim.

For a moment I was convinced he was going to clock it and know exactly what I'd done.

I reached into my pocket, yanked the scrap of fabric back out, and shoved it straight into Martin's open palm as I brushed past him toward the doorway.

His fingers closed around it and then I was past him.

I kept walking on autopilot until I reached my station.

Moments later, Daniel and Charlotte pushed through the open doors, steering hand trucks stacked with crates of yesterday's harvest.

I flashed Martin one last wide-eyed look over my shoulder, then bent and started clearing the remaining debris from the floor.

The memory slips away and I'm back beside the fire.

********************************************

"So that's why you two were being awkward all morning?"

Charlotte shakes her head, staring at me like she's only just managed to rearrange the pieces in her head.

"What do you mean? I played it so cool."

"Yeah. Fucking right." She snorts, then settles back in her chair, still looking at me.

"Fuck. I'm used to Martin being quiet and brooding, but you were jumpy all day. I thought you were sick or something."

"Thanks."

"Every time you passed the next batch to Martin, you'd go all quiet." She giggles. "You couldn't even look at him."

"Was it really that obvious?"

"Lil."

I wince and take another drink, hiding behind the bottle.

"What were you thinking?"

"Mostly about burrowing underground and living out my days as a worm."

Charlotte laughs, nudging her boot against mine.

"So? Come on."

"Come on what?"

She grins.

"So how did that whole pretending-nothing-happened thing go?"

"Badly."

"Badly how?"

"Well, that was before I handed him my..." I hesitate. "You know."

"Mmhmm." She folds her arms. "Why did you give them back to him?"

"I panicked." Heat creeps into my face. "You guys were suddenly right there. I thought you'd see the bulge."

"The one in your pocket or the one in Martin's pants?"

"My pock--" I stop dead. "Hey!"

She bursts out laughing.

"Fuck off."

"I'm sorry."

"No, you're not."

"Come one, you can see how this is fun for me." She grins.

I shoot her a look, but she lets me continue.

"After that, it was different. We barely spoke for the rest of the day." I stare into the fire. "Or the next day, actually."

Charlotte's smile fades.

"You didn't speak for two whole days?"

"Not properly. We're often quiet around each other, but this was different." I rub my thumb over the neck of my bottle. "I couldn't stop thinking about what I'd done. Wondering what the hell was wrong with me, if I'd ruined everything."

"I mean, it was a fucking bold move." Charlotte gives me a look. "Were you embarrassed?"

"Mortified. I wasn't exactly thinking straight."

"You clearly had something on your mind." She gives me a knowing smile. "So. Two days of awkward silence. What happened next?"

The flush creeps back up my neck.

"On the second day. Something happened that night."

Charlotte leans closer. "Something happened?"

"Yeah. You guys had all gone back to the farmhouse to carve the pumpkins. I was still in the barn. I was hosing down the floor when I had a thought."

********************************************

OCTOBER 30TH | 1 DAY TO HALLOWEEN...

The only light left in the packing barn came from the overhead fluorescent strips. Their colourless light stretching across the floor, casting harsh shadows up the walls.

We'd spent the day fitting the final party preparations around our usual farm work, hanging festoon lights, stacking logs beside the bonfire and hanging fake cobwebs around the cleared space outside the barn. Martin and Daniel had put up the marquee and set up the bar.

For the first time in two days, I was finally alone with my thoughts.

Ever since my interaction with Martin, I'd been withdrawn and in my own head. Every conversation felt loaded with tension and every glimpse of him sent another jolt of nerves through me. I couldn't seem to relax around him, no matter how hard I tried.

I stood in the middle of the concrete floor with the hose in my hands, spraying water in a steady arc across the boards sending a slurry of apple pulp, leaves and dirt towards the drain.

It had been the perfect opportunity to turn everything over in my head. I'd spent most of the afternoon wondering how Martin had interpreted my little "gift".

We'd both been doing our best to pretend it had never happened, but that had made it almost impossible to work out what was going on in his head. When he'd first found my underwear in the packing barn, he'd been awkward, of course, but he hadn't seemed angry. If anything, it had been the opposite.

'The last word I'd use to describe how I felt finding them would be disgusted.'

What the hell had he meant by that?

Had it just been an awkward slip? Had he been trying to make me feel better, to spare me some of the embarrassment?

I'd replayed those few seconds so many times that I'd managed to find a dozen different meanings in them, and none of them seemed truly convincing.

A part of me was convinced I'd blown it. That I'd pushed things too far, crossed some invisible line and taken advantage of his kindness. Maybe that was why he'd been keeping his distance. Maybe he was just too polite to say so.

But the truth was, I hadn't planned any of it.

It just happened.

I dragged the hose across the floor, watching the dirty water snake towards the drain.

This could be my last harvest here.

The thought made my stomach twist.

Martin could easily decide he didn't want me coming back. He could make up some excuse, or worse, he could tell Daniel about what I'd done.

I swallowed.

Could I really blame him if he did?

I turned the hose towards another section of floor, concentrating on the job, but my thoughts soon drifted back to Martin.

I couldn't keep going like this. If we were really going to pretend nothing had happened, then we at least needed to start acting like ourselves again. The last two days had been painfully awkward, and I was beginning to wonder if Daniel and Charlotte had noticed.

I rounded the corner, trailing the hose behind me as I worked my way across the far side of the barn.

My eyes landed on the desk, and my grip tightened around the hose.

My underwear.

Last time, Martin had put them in the drawer. Nobody else used the desk, and it was unlikely anybody would go digging through his things. If he'd wanted to hide them, it was probably the safest place he could have put them.

He'd probably just stuffed them straight back inside there as soon as he could.

Maybe I was supposed to find them and he was simply waiting for me to take them back and put this whole humiliating episode behind us.

That suddenly made so much sense.

Except...

A small, shameful part of me desperately hoped they weren't there.

I imagined him taking them back to his room, tucking them away in his nightstand and reaching for them when he thought about me late at night.

I knew how fucked up it was. I knew I shouldn't be entertaining those thoughts. But I just couldn't stop myself from fantasising about it.

My eyes drifted back to the desk. I could just check. There was no harm in that.

One little look inside the drawer, and I'd know.

Except I knew myself. If I opened it and found nothing, I'd sink further down the rabbit hole and spend the rest of the night wondering where he'd put them. If they were still there, I'd obsess over what that meant instead. Either way, I'd be right back where I'd started.

I slowly lowered the hose. It didn't matter, and yet I had to know.

Before I could talk myself out of it, I reached for the handle and pulled open the drawer.

And there they were.

Exactly where he'd left them the last time.

Something inside me sank. For a second, all I could do was stare.

I knew this was for the best. Martin had made his position perfectly clear without ever having to say a word. I had no right to expect anything else, and yet, somehow, that still hurt.

All I had to do was take them back. After that, maybe things would settle between us and that awkwardness would fade.

I reached into the drawer and picked them up.

But the second my fingers closed around the soft cotton, I felt it.

I froze. My heart slammed hard against my ribs as I slowly lifted them into the overhead light to get a better look.

Something sticky soaked the gusset, drenching the pale fabric until it was dark and stiff. There was no question what it was.

Ropes of cum had dried in thick, glossy streaks across the centre, glistening under the lamps. The elastic at the leg openings was stiff with it. A thick smear had been spread deliberately across the soft inner lining, as if he'd dragged the swollen head of his cock against it.

The smell filled my nose and I felt my mouth watering against my will.

Martin had used them.

He'd probably been sat right here, at this desk, with my underwear wrapped around his cock. I could see exactly how he'd done it. The fabric was stretched and twisted at the centre, the soft cotton forced into a tight, wet sheath. He gripped them in his fist, pumping his cock into them. Fucking them. Fucking me?

The load was heavy. That's if it was just one. I could picture the first thick spurt flooding the fabric, Martin still stroking, as he pumped it deep into the material so it would soak right through. The way he might've squeezed the head of his cock against them at the end, milking every last drop.

With shaky hands I turned them over. A thin string of half-dried cum stretched between the fabric and my fingertip when I pressed into the stiffened centre.

"Fuck..."

The word slipped out of me, barely a whisper. The heat that flooded my face raced straight down between my legs. I could already feel how wet I was, my pussy aching and desperate for the same treatment.

Shame balled in my stomach, but underneath it was something hotter and far worse, an arousal so intense that it made my thighs press together.

Had he had done this on purpose? Used them and left them here for me to find, still warm and soaked with his load.

I brought them closer to my face. The musky scent filled my head, making me dizzy. My tongue pressed against the roof of my mouth, and for one intense moment, I thought I was about to lick them and taste the salty mess he had left for me.

I shouldn't be this turned on. I shouldn't be standing here in the packing barn with my boyfriend's father's cum wet on my fingers.

My free hand was already under the hem of my shorts, shoving past the waistband of my underwear before I'd even made the conscious decision.

I brought the ruined fabric right up against my face and dragged in another shaky breath of his scent. I was so close already, vision blurring, thighs trembling, cunt dripping down my fingers.

There was no way I could stop myself. I dragged the stiffened gusset across my open mouth, spreading the half-dried cum across my lips and cheeks.

"Fuck... oh fuck..."

I was standing in the packing barn with my shorts around my thighs, two fingers still buried in my dripping cunt, rubbing the sticky fabric across my face like a desperate slut.

It was so intoxicating that I hadn't even spared a thought for what would happen if someone had walked in at that moment.

I slipped a third finger into my soaked hole, and worked myself faster. This time I opened my mouth wide and brushed my tongue across the fabric, tasting the exact same cum that had created my boyfriend.

This was so fucking bad.

"Oh... Martin..."

I came with a broken, muffled sob, burying my face in the ruined underwear, pressing the damp fabric against my lips as wave after wave of shameful pleasure tore through me.

I collapsed over the desk, panting as the full weight of what I'd just done crashed over me all at once.

I'd spent the last few days worrying that I'd pushed things too far. That I'd crossed a line I could never uncross.

And maybe I had.

But the unmistakable proof still clinging to my tongue and smeared across my face made one thing brutally clear:

I wasn't the only one who'd crossed it.

********************************************

The trees sway gently in the cool night air, their branches whispering against one another.

Most of the leaves are gone now, scattered across the dark ground beneath them. The last traces of autumn are giving way to the first unmistakable signs of winter.

I shift in my chair, pulling my jacket a little tighter around myself.

"You're fucking with me."

Charlotte is sitting opposite me, studying my face in the flickering light.

I shake my head.

"Fuck."

"Yeah."

"Do you think he meant for you to find them?"

"Why else would he leave them in the exact same place if not for me to find them?"

Charlotte's mouth falls open slightly.

"Jesus, Lil," she breathes. "That's so fucked up. That's your boyfriend's dad. You're sitting here telling me Daniel's father jerked off into your knickers and left them for you like some kind of... what? An invitation?"

I swallow. The memory sticks in my mind. I can almost feel the sticky residue on my fingers again, the musky taste of him spread across my tongue.

Charlotte leans forward. "What did you do after? Did you put them back?"

"No."

"Lil," she breathes, her voice dropping to a whisper. "Tell me you didn't keep them."

"I think he wanted me to."

Charlotte stares at me. For a second she looks like she might laugh from pure disbelief.

"I mean..." I shift in my chair. "We couldn't exactly talk about it. It felt like a way of acknowledging what was happening without actually having to say it out loud."

"That's fucking ridiculous."

"I know." I pick at the label on my bottle. "But after that, it felt impossible to keep pretending nothing had happened."

"You don't fucking say." Charlotte folds her arms, a faintly smug expression settling across her face. "I'm assuming at some point he went in that drawer and discovered they were gone?"

"Right." I shake my head. "I just had absolutely no way of knowing when that was going to be."

I stare down into my drink, remembering.

"The next morning was Halloween, we had all that prep to do for the party. I felt like I had electricity running through my body, just wondering if he knew. If he'd realised I'd taken them."

"Was he any different that morning?"

"Exactly the same as always." I give a frustrated laugh. "Completely absorbed in whatever he was doing."

"Nothing was said? No weirdness? No tense eye contact? Nothing like that?"

"Nothing. I was so completely in my own head that I convinced myself everything meant something, but it was weirdly normal."

"God, that must have been torture."

"It was."

She sinks back in her chair, looking almost disappointed, before quickly straightening up.

"At the party, you guys were talking, I remember! I saw you chatting away, sharing the barrel-aged stuff with the pub owners."

********************************************

OCTOBER 31ST | HALLOWEEN NIGHT

By eight o'clock, the party was in full swing.

Strings of festoon bulbs crisscrossed the lower branches of the trees, casting a crimson glow over the grass below. Carved Jack-o'-lanterns sat atop pallets and lined the perimeter of the barn, their faces flickering menacingly in the firelight. The air was heavy with woodsmoke, roasted pork from the spit, and the fragrant sweetness of mulled cider.

A local band were playing Halloween covers on our makeshift stage, their music mixing with the chatter of the partygoers and the occasional pop from the huge bonfire in the centre of the clearing.

Daniel had hired a handful of village teenagers to work the bar, and whilst they seemed to be drinking as many pints as they were serving, everyone seemed to have a plastic cup of cider or dark ale in their hand.

Halloween had brought out varying degrees of effort in the costumes.

The theme of this years party was fairytale, and some people had certainly gone all out. From my vantage point by the barn I could see the Mad Hatter, Hansel and Gretel, the Wicked Witch of the West, and several princes and princesses. Others, mainly teens, had decided that throwing a black hoodie on counted as fancy dress as long as it meant free booze.

Daniel had settled somewhere in the middle. He'd gone as a huntsman, although he'd given up on carrying the axe almost immediately. A flat cap sat crooked on his head, and he'd thrown an ill-fitting waistcoat over his shirt, with a smear of fake blood across one cheek for good measure. He was currently laughing with a group of regulars as they attempted to bob for apples in a large trough.

Charlotte was manning the drinks table, tossing cinnamon sticks, star anise and handfuls of orange peel into a huge cauldron of mulled cider as a queue began to form in front of her. For her costume she'd plumped on the grandmother from Little Red Riding Hood, throwing a shawl over her shoulders and pinning her hair up.

I'd gone as Little Red Riding Hood, which had seemed much more fun when I'd planned it than it did once I was actually wearing the thing. A hooded red cloak hung from my shoulders, paired with a short red skirt and boots. I'd gone heavier on the makeup than usual, and the thick eyeshadow was starting to irritate me.

To my discomfort and giddy pleasure, I was in charge of wooing the clients with Martin tonight. Alongside the fun and games, Halloween was also the perfect networking opportunity for the farm.

Martin had gone as the Big Bad Wolf, and unlike most of us, he'd put a lot of effort into it.

Fur poked through the rips and tears in his coat, but the real centrepiece was his wolf hood. It was huge, with pointed ears and a long, snarling muzzle. He'd pushed it back from his face while talking to guests, leaving it draped around his shoulders like a grisly pelt.

We were tucked beneath the canopy of the small marquee at the edge of the barrel store, well away from the main crowd. Our corner was lit only by two lanterns resting on the surrounding oak casks, their flames flickering whenever the wind found its way beneath the canopy.

Julian Higgins was the owner of The Black Fox, a rustic inn two villages over. Tonight, he'd taken the name rather literally, dressed in a long black tailcoat with a fox's tail pinned to the back and a pair of pointed ears poking through his thinning hair.

Beside him was Brenda, the sharp-eyed landlady of The Royal Oak, whose surname I could never remember. She was dressed in a long brown dress and white apron, with a linen cap tied beneath her chin. She'd told me earlier that she was the Candlemaker's Wife, although I couldn't for the life of me remember which fairytale that was from.

Both were leaning over our trestle table, swishing the golden liquid around their glasses as though they were tasting a fine champagne rather than our barrel-aged cider.

"It's got a sharper finish than last year's batch," Julian declared, holding his glass up to the lantern light.

"We left it in the French oak another six months," Martin said, a grin tugging at the corner of his mouth.

Brenda took another thoughtful sip, nodding slowly as though she were considering something of great importance.

"Definitely sharper."

Half an hour had turned into an hour, and that quickly turned into two. The empty bottles were beginning to pile up, and the conversation had long drifted from which pubs wanted another delivery and how much stock they could shift before Christmas.

For the first time in days, I was starting to relax. The cider was certainly helping. Things were almost beginning to feel normal again. Though, it seemed that every time I started to feel comfortable, I'd catch the familiar scent of Martin's cedar cologne and I'd have to remind myself to breathe.

He'd pushed the sleeves of his wolf coat up to his elbows and the dark fur at the cuffs framed his forearms as he leaned over the table. He was midway through explaining the fermentation process to Sian Rhys from the country house hotel when Daniel appeared around the corner, with two sheepish looking teenagers trailing behind him.

"I'm headed up to the farmhouse to grab some new barrels for the bar," he said, glancing between Martin and me. "You need anything, Dad?"

Martin looked up from his conversation with Sian.

"Yeah. Could you bring down another two crates of the Bramley reserve while you're up there? They're stacked beside the cold store."

Daniel nodded.

"Got it."

"And check the taps on the way back. The left one was sticking earlier."

"Will do."

Martin gave him a small nod and turned back to Sian without another word.

Daniel lingered for half a second, looking at me.

"You need anything, babe?"

I looked my boyfriend up and down, taking in the flat cap, waistcoat and fake blood.

"Yeah. Could you chop down a few trees while you're up there?"

He snorted. "I left my axe by the bar."

"Bit of a disappointing huntsman, then."

"I'm off duty."

"Of course you are."

He grinned and leaned in, pressing a quick kiss to my cheek.

"The bonfire's getting a bit low," he said. "Can you and Dad grab some logs when you get a minute?"

"Yeah, course. Leave it with us."

The irony of Daniel sending his Little Red Riding Hood off into the woods with the Big Bad Wolf was not lost on me.

"Okay." He looked back at me and gave me a quick wink. "Save me a cup of the good stuff."

"Will do."

I laughed, and he grinned before turning back towards the teenagers.

"Come on, you two. If you're going to drink us out of cider, you can at least help me carry it."

They followed him around the corner, and I could vaguely make out Daniel promising them some of the double strength stuff from the cellar.

Then he was gone.

"That's their second trip tonight," Martin said. "If I didn't know better, I'd say those teenagers were drinking us bloody dry."

I turned and noticed Sian had already wandered back towards the main party, leaving the two of us alone beside the trestle table. For the first time that evening, there was no one else waiting for Martin's attention.

"Well it wouldn't be the first time."

He gave a quiet laugh. "Ah, they can enjoy it. There's nothing else for them to do round here. I'm drawing the line at cleaning up sick though."

Martin glanced towards the band, then back at me.

"You've been a big help this year," he said. "Actually, every year."

I smiled. "You don't have to thank me. I look forward to it."

"I know. Still." He glanced around the busy orchard. "It makes a difference having you here. And I enjoy having you around."

Something warm tightened in my chest.

"I enjoy being here."

"Good." He gave me a small smile and reached for the barrel beside us and poured two small tasters, handing one across.

"Here."

I took it, raising my glass towards his.

"Are you having a good time tonight?"

"Yeah." I smiled. "Your Halloween parties blow the city ones out of the water."

Martin gave a quiet laugh. "I've got a reputation to uphold. Besides, I make you lot do all the hard work."

"Yeah, I'd noticed. Speaking of hard work. Daniel asked us to top up the bonfire when we get a chance."

Martin nodded, but neither of us made any attempt to move.

"You make a good Red Riding Hood, by the way."

I glanced down at myself, suddenly conscious of the short black dress beneath the deep red cloak.

"Do I?"

"Yeah."

His eyes flicked over me for a moment before meeting mine again.

I felt my cheeks start to burn.

"And you?" I asked, hoping to take some of the attention off myself. "Quite the wolf."

"Ahh, I'm getting too old for all this dressing up."

"You're really good at it! It's actually a little unsettling."

"That's reassuring."

"I mean it. The mask is brilliant."

"Yeah?"

He reached up and pulled the hood forward, settling the wolf mask over his face.

The firelight caught the scraggly fur around his face, but his eyes disappeared completely beneath the darkened sockets. The long muzzle and pointed ears made him look genuinely monstrous.

I stared at him.

"You look terrifying."

The wolf took a slow step towards me.

"Oh, fuck off."

Another step.

I raised my hands, laughing.

"Martin."

He kept coming.

"Aren't you supposed to tell me what big teeth I have?" He stopped. The mask tilted towards me.

"Right," I said playfully backing up. "And isn't my beloved Huntsman meant to open your belly up and free me after you gobble me up?"

Martin slowly lifted the mask, revealing a grin.

"Not in the original version."

I narrowed my eyes.

"You--"

He lunged.

A deep growl tore from behind the mask, and I jumped so violently that cider sloshed over the rim of my glass.

"Martin!"

He immediately burst out laughing, pulling the mask back onto the top of his head.

"You bastard!"

I swatted his arm, laughing despite myself.

"Got you."

I laughed and brought the glass to my lips. The first mouthful immediately made my face screw up.

Martin laughed under his breath.

"Eugh! What the hell is this?" I spluttered, laughing.

"Pear. A little ginger. Some wild yeast I've been playing around with."

There was something floral beneath the sweetness, with a funky finish that lingered at the back of my tongue.

"I don't know if I like it."

He took another sip himself, completely unfazed. "I think it might need another few months."

I looked down at the glass. "This is what you've been giving to all the business owners?"

Martin laughed softly. "No. They haven't tasted this one."

"So I'm your guinea pig?"

"You're my trusted advisor."

I took another cautious sip. "It's still weird."

That made him laugh again.

He set his glass down.

"Come on, Red. I suppose we should get those logs."

The noise of the party faded quickly as I followed him out past the barn and down the trail towards the wood store. The band's music became little more than a distant thump, replaced by the crunch of gravel beneath our boots.

Martin walked a few paces in front of me, his broad frame becoming little more than a silhouette as we left the last of the party lights behind. I found myself watching his bushy tail in amusement as it swayed from side to side behind him, brushing against the long overgrown grass as he walked.

As we passed beneath the trees, he reached up and plucked an apple from one of the lower branches. He turned it over in his hand, inspecting the skin before casually tossing it a few inches into the air and catching it again.

We trudged on for another minute. My mind churned with things to say but nothing felt right. Now that we were alone I could feel the anxiety creeping back in.

Eventually, the trail giving way to damp grass as we crossed the edge of the orchard. The last of the party lights had disappeared behind the barn now, leaving only the distant glow of the bonfire visible between the trees.

Then there was a sudden rustle in the leaves and we both stopped.

Martin turned towards the sound.

"Hello?"

There was a pause before two figures awkwardly emerged from the darkness.

A boy and girl, both in their late teens or early twenties, stumbled onto the path. I recognised the girl as Gretel from the party. She was straightening her dress while Hansel dragged his jacket back over his shoulders and scratched at his neck. He froze when he saw Martin.

"Shit! Sorry, Mr Hayes." He glanced at Gretel, who was bright red with embarrassment. "We were just--"

"Heading back to the party?" Martin said dryly.

"Yep. Absolutely. Sorry."

"Right."

"Sorry again." He whispered as they hurried past us, disappearing back along the trail towards the party.

We waited until they were out of earshot before we both started laughing.

"Kids."

Finally, the wood store appeared ahead of us, little more than a garden shed tucked against the far edge of the fields threatened to be swallowed by the trees. A single security light above the door flickered into life as we approached, throwing a pale circle across the muddy ground.

Martin pulled open the door, and the smell of damp timber greeted us.

Inside, the wood store was stacked almost to the ceiling with split logs, kindling and old pallets, for the long winter ahead. Martin stepped inside and set his apple on a nearby shelf before inspecting the larger logs.

I started searching for a few smaller pieces, picking them up and testing their weight before he spoke again.

"I noticed that something was missing from my desk drawer today."

I kept my eyes on the woodpile. His words felt like a hand around my throat

"Missing?" I managed.

"Mm." He selected a heavy log and set it aside. "They were there yesterday when I finished up. Gone by the time I opened up this morning."

My pulse spiked so hard I felt it behind my eyes. There was no way he couldn't hear my heart thumping in my chest.

I forced a small, unsteady breath. Why was it so quiet?

He took a step closer but I couldn't bring myself to look at him. I fixed my gaze on the woodpile in front of me.

"I'm curious," he said in a low voice, close enough that I felt the warmth of it against the side of my neck. "Were you surprised? Or was it what you were hoping for?"

I couldn't answer. My throat felt so impossibly tight.

"I... I..." I tried, but nothing came out.

"You took them. So I'm asking whether the state they were in made your pussy as wet as when you fucked yourself on my sorting table."

A helpless sound escaped me at the vulgarity of his words. How did he know?

I could feel how wet I was already, the fabric of my underwear sticking to me under my jeans. I felt sick.

"Do you know what I did with them?" he asked.

I swallowed and nodded, still staring straight ahead.

"And then you took them back," he continued. "So either you're just really attached to them, or you liked what you found inside them. Which is it?"

"The second one," I whispered, the word cracking.

"Hmm."

"I liked it." My voice shook. "I liked seeing what you did to them."

A low, approving sound left him.

"Show me how wet you are right now," he said quietly. "Pull up your skirt and put my hand between your legs. I want to feel it."

The rational part of my brain was in overdrive. Against every better instinct, I immediately obeyed. My fingers fumbled with my skirt before I allowed the thoughts to catch up. I hiked it up and guided his rough hand under the soaked cotton of my underwear, pressing his fingers straight against my cunt.

A sharp gasp escaped us both.

I was completely soaked.

Martin's eyes locked on mine and for a second neither of us moved. Then he closed the last inch between us and our mouths crashed together.

His tongue slid against mine as his fingers began to circle my clit, two thick fingers rubbing firmly against me, sliding through the wetness and resting at my entrance without pushing in.

"Tell me what you want."

I swallowed. My face felt hot. "I want your fingers inside me."

Martin pushed one thick finger into me slowly. The stretch made me gasp. He groaned quietly when he felt how tightly I gripped him.

"Fuck..." He added a second finger carefully, before beginning to gently work them in and out. His thumb found my clit again and rubbed steady circles while his fingers curled inside me.

My head tipped back. Every thrust sent another wave of heat through me. He maintained the same rhythm, carefully studying my face.

"Does that feel good?"

"Yes," I whispered.

"I've thought about how I'd bend you over my desk and take you," he said, almost like he was angry about it. "How fucking tight you'd feel wrapped around me. How good it would feel."

"Fuck!" I sobbed as my thighs began to shake.

"The other night," he continued, voice rougher now. "Seeing you in those tiny pyjama shorts you wear to bed. Wondering how easy it would be to push them aside and sink into you."

"Martin... I need it." The words came out desperate. "I have to feel you. Please."

He pulled his fingers free with a wet sound that made my face burn. I turned to face him properly.

When our eyes met he brought his hand up.

I opened my mouth without being told. He slid those same fingers between my lips and I tasted myself on him.

Without a word he pulled free, then reached down and hooked his fingers under the hem of my skirt. One sharp yank and both the skirt and my underwear were past my ankles and I was standing naked from the waist down save for my boots. I stepped out of them on shaky legs, feeling the cool air hit my bare, dripping cunt.

My heart was hammering. Was I really about to go through with this?

I couldn't. Could I?

My thoughts were immediately interrupted as Martin undid his own belt. He pulled his boxers down and my eyes settled on what I had spent the entire past week simply imagining.

His cock was already hard, hanging heavy between his thighs as he stepped out of the last of his clothes. It looked impossibly thick, the dark head already wet and glistening.

My boyfriend's father was hard because of me.

The thought made my stomach flip.

He wrapped a hand around himself, giving one slow stroke from base to tip. I couldn't tear my gaze away. Martin's cock was nothing like Daniels. It was heavier-looking, veiny and imposing.

He took my wrist and guided my hand down, breaking the last of my hesitation. He felt hot against my palm, and when my fingers instinctively closed around him, I found they couldn't meet the entire way. I was holding more than I could properly grip.

I gave a slow, experimental stroke and watched the way his stomach tensed.

There was no going back now. I was holding Daniel's dad's cock in my hand. Pleasuring him.

Martin's hand came up to cup the side of my face, the dark fur protruding from his sleeve brushing my cheek as his thumb grazed my skin. His other hand stayed loose at his side, letting me explore.

I stroked him again, feeling the full weight of him and the way he seemed to somehow thicken even more under my touch. A bead of precum welled up and I smeared it over the head with my thumb.

He exhaled hard through his nose.

"Lil."

I twisted my fist just under the head until another thick drop of precum pushed out. I caught it on my thumb, brought it to my mouth, and let it sit on my tongue.

Yesterday I'd only gotten the leftover version. This was different. Straight from the tip of my boyfriend's father's cock and still warm. I wasn't supposed to know what he tasted like. I wasn't supposed to have this on my tongue. And that knowledge only made things worse.

Martin's hand left my cheek and settled on my hip. I could feel his thumb stroking the soft skin there before he continued lower and dragged two fingers straight through the mess between my legs.

He stepped back and the sudden absence of his hand made me ache. With the toe of his boot he nudged a thick fallen log until it rolled into place.

"Here. Step on this."

I did as he said and immediately felt his huge hands clamp my bare ass, lifting me like I weighed nothing as my feet settled on the rough bark. He adjusted my stance and spread me wide, using the extra height to line himself up perfectly.

The thick head of his cock brushed past my ass as he dragged it downward until it rested right against my entrance.

"Lil, I need to feel you."

My heart was pounding so hard I could hear it in my ears. This was the moment. Once he pushed forward I would be taking my boyfriend's father's cock.

"I need it too."

I could literally feel how wide he would open me. The size of him against me made my stomach flip with nerves.

I could feel myself trying to pull him in too. My exposed pussy gently pressing against the blunt head of him. Every tiny shift of my hips smeared more of my wetness over him.

Would it be noticeable to Daniel next time we were intimate? What if Martin stretched me so wide that Daniel felt the difference? What if the next time my boyfriend pushed inside me he realised something had changed, that I took him too easily?

The fear should have killed the moment, but it only made me drip more.

A fresh rush of wetness slid down my thigh at the fear of being caught as the panic and want tangled together until I couldn't tell them apart.

Martin felt it. He shifted his hips the smallest amount, and the thick head of his cock began to press inside me.

The burn was immediate as he began to split me open.

"Fuck. So fucking tight." He exhaled through his teeth.

He froze there, holding only the tip inside me, letting me feel the size of him. It felt like a fucking fist. His breathing was rough against the back of my neck. The stretch was already way more than I was used to.

With his hand tight on my hip he pulled me closer, sinking the head of his cock deeper until it was almost fully inside me. He held himself there, letting the reality sink in, letting me feel how tightly I gripped him.

I was so full already and this was just the tip.

"I've wanted this for so fucking long."

With another deliberate thrust he pushed another thick inch inside me, then another, until I was stretched wider than I'd ever been. A broken sound escaped my throat as he kept going until his hips finally met mine and I was completely impaled on his dick.

Martin held me there, suspended, my weight half on the log and half in his hands as I clenched around him, helplessly trying to adjust to the size.

Then we heard it.

Footsteps. Outside the shed. Getting closer.

Martin's entire body went rigid. In one swift motion he scooped me off the log and stepped backward into the shadows until the stacked logs closed us in on either side, still buried to the hilt inside me. He kept me pinned there, my legs suspended above the floor as he held me up. One of his hands clamped over my mouth.

The footsteps stopped right outside the door now.

He reached off to the side and snatched the apple he'd left on the shelf, pressing it firmly against my lips.

"Bite down," he whispered. "And stay quiet."

I opened my mouth and bit into the apple. The crisp flesh filled my mouth, forcing me to stay silent. Juice ran over my tongue and the taste of apple filled my mouth.

The shed door creaked open.

I froze so hard my whole body locked around him.

I watched as Charlotte stepped inside, silhouetted against the faint outdoor light. She leaned in, grabbed a few pieces of firewood, and tossed them into the wheelbarrow with a dull clatter.

My boyfriend's father was buried to the hilt inside me while my friend stood only a few metres away, completely unaware. Every small shift of Martin's hips made his thick cock move inside me, dragging against places that blurred my vision. Apple juice ran down my chin and dripped onto my chest. I didn't dare swallow. I didn't dare breathe too loudly.

The boards creaked under her weight as she grabbed another armful of wood. She was so close I could hear the soft sound of her breathing. If she turned her head even slightly, she'd see the Big Bad Wolf balls-deep in Little Red Riding Hood, fucking her like helpless prey.

Martin's hands tightened hard on my hips. He held me completely still, but I could feel how hard he still was. The threat of being caught hadn't softened him at all. If anything he felt thicker, throbbing deep inside me. A slow, helpless clench of my cunt around him drew a quiet groan from him.

Thunk.

I flinched as another piece of wood landed heavy in the wheelbarrow.

Charlotte wiped her hands on her jeans, seemed to consider for a moment, then turned and stepped back out into the night. The door swung shut behind her and moments later I could hear her footsteps fading as she headed back toward the party.

********************************************

"Are you fucking serious?"

Charlotte's voice snaps me back to the orchard..

I grimace and nod. "Charlotte, I..."

"No." She holds up a hand. "No. Stop. I need a second."

She leans back in her chair and looks up at the night sky.

For a few seconds, neither of us says anything.

Then Charlotte looks back at me.

"What was it like?"

The question catches me off guard.

I stare at her. "What?"

"With him." She hesitates, then gives a small, embarrassed shrug. "What was it like?"

A nervous laugh escapes me. "Good."

She gives me a flat look. "Just good?"

"Really good, actually."

"That's all I'm getting?"

I shake my head, suddenly embarrassed.

"No. It was... amazing." I look down at my cider. "I don't know what you want me to say."

"I mean what did it feel like?" she presses, leaning in a little. "Come on. You can't drop all of that on me and then just go 'amazing'."

I take a slow breath. My face is already hot.

"It felt so fucking good I can't even explain it properly," I admit. "Like... overwhelming. And wrong. And I still didn't want him to stop."

I pick at the label on my bottle.

"Every time he moved I could feel it all the way through me. And the whole time I just kept thinking how bad it was. I was shaking. Properly shaking. It might have been the best... no I can't say that."

Charlotte punches me in the thigh.

"Ow, what the fuck!" I grab at the spot, laughing despite myself.

"I can't believe you didn't even pull out when I was in there, you bitch," she says, half scandalised, half grinning.

"It's not like I could do anything," I protest, still rubbing my leg. "He was basically impaled on that thing. I couldn't move."

Charlotte stares at me for a second, then lets out a disbelieving laugh and covers her cheeks with both hands.

"If that wasn't so fucking hot I would be properly mad at you right now." She drops her hands, cheeks pink. "God, Lil."

I laugh, embarrassed and a little turned on just from talking about it.

She eyes me sideways, still flushed. "Was he big?"

I hesitate. The memory of how wide he'd felt hits me again and I give a small nod.

"Bigger than Daniel?" She asks curiously.

My face burns harder. "I can't say that!"

"He is!" Charlotte's eyes widen. "Fuck."

She takes a long gulp of cider and when she speaks again her voice is quieter.

"So, what happened after I left the shed?"

I glance down at the bottle in my hand. There's barely a mouthful left. I tip it back and set the empty bottle beside the others with a soft clink.

"We carried on."

********************************************

OCTOBER 31ST | HALLOWEEN NIGHT... CONTINUED

The smell of timber and dust mixed with the scent of sex. My back was raw from the rough wooden wall that Martin was fucking me into.

After Charlotte left, his rhythm had transitioned into deeper thrusts that made the whole shed creak. Every time he bottomed out I felt the agonisingly hot pressure of him forcing my body to take more than it was built for.

He had one hand locked under my thigh, keeping me spread wide for him. The other was braced against the wall beside my head.

The wet slap of his hips against mine rang out impossibly loud in the otherwise quiet space. If anyone had come looking for more wood they would have heard us long before we heard them.

Slap. Slap. Slap. Slap.

I was past caring.

I pushed back to meet him, taking every overwhelming inch as the sheer girth made my toes curl.

The scrape of his lips as Martin's mouth found the side of my neck only made me melt into him even more. I clung to his shoulders for dear life as I felt my orgasm quickly approaching.

I wondered if he would finish inside me. We weren't using a condom, and the idea of walking back to the party with his cum still spilling out of me had me on the verge of passing out. I'd still be wearing my innocent Little Red Riding Hood costume, my short skirt hiding my sticky thighs from everything my boyfriend's father had just done to me. It felt so wrong that my stomach twisted, yet the wrongness drove me closer and closer to the edge.

His fingers found my clit again, and I knew I was done for.

I came with a broken moan, clamping down hard around him. Martin groaned and kept thrusting, fucking me straight through the orgasm, using the way I squeezed him to chase his own release.

With one final thrust, he buried himself right down to the base. He came with a low, guttural sound as he emptied into me in violent spurts. I felt every one of them, the thick flood of his cum filling me as he forced himself as deep as he could get. Hot streams began to leak out around his cock and run down my thighs almost immediately.

He remained fully buried, breathing hard against the side of my neck with one hand still twisted in my hair. His cock was still twitching inside me and I could literally feel just how full I was, how thoroughly he had claimed me.

We both froze in place, panting as we tried to catch our breath.

When he finally did pull out, the sudden loss made me whimper. A thick trickle of cum followed him, sliding down my inner thigh.

Then he did something that made my stomach drop.

Martin dropped to a crouch behind me, spread me open with his thumbs, and spat directly onto my used cunt. I flinched as I felt it land across my swollen hole. Before I could react he pushed the spit inside with two thick fingers, mixing it with his cum and massaging it in deeper.

I jolted so hard my knees nearly gave out.

He made a low, approving sound and continued spreading me wider, pushing his load as far as his fingers could reach.

"Martin..." The word came out shaky.

He kept his fingers moving slowly inside me, gently massaging it in and making sure nothing escaped. When he finally drew them out, he brought them to my lips so I could taste both of us on my tongue. We tasted good together.

"That was..." He exhaled, eyes still locked on my creampied pussy. "Fuck, Lil. Keep my cum inside you tonight. Every time I look over I want to know it's still there."

I swallowed, cheeks burning. "Okay."

I reached for my clothes on unsteady legs. Every movement caused more of him slip out of me. There was so much. I couldn't help but think of the mess he'd left in my underwear, and how that same volume had just been pumped inside of me.

We got dressed in silence. Even if my brain wasn't mush, I doubt I could have found any words.

There was the version of Martin I had always known, my boyfriend's father. Then there was the man who had just fucked me raw. The two refused to sit comfortably side by side in my head.

Martin watched as I pulled my skirt and pants up and over the mess he had made.

"Next time I take you," he said, "it's going to be in my bed. Somewhere I can do it properly."

Next time.

I nodded, still hazy. The words didn't feel real.

He leaned in and kissed me once more on the mouth.

Somehow, despite everything that had just happened, the simple press of his mouth against mine somehow felt more intimate than the sex.

"I'll grab some extra logs," he murmured. "You get back, I'm sure Daniel could use a hand at the bar."

Daniel.

Shit.

I pull my cloak tighter around myself and begin the walk back to the party, my boyfriends innocent face in my mind, and his fathers load leaking down below the hem of my skirt.

********************************************

"Jesus."

I watch as her expression shift as the shock subsides as her cheeks redden. I couldn't help but notice how the corner of her mouth kept twitching upward. Was that arousal?

"Oh, my God. You're getting turned on by this, aren't you!"

She takes a drink, trying and failing to hide her embarrassment.

"Fine. Maybe a little." She waved a hand towards the dark orchard. "Do you have any idea how boring my life is? Nothing happens out here. Just apples and mud, and more fucking apples. So go on, what happened next? And don't you dare skip anything."

I let out a long breath through my nose.

"By the time I got back, the party was already winding down."

"Well, you really took your time gathering those logs."

"Yeah..."

********************************************

When I got back, I found most of the local business owners had already left. The bonfire had burned low, but the music was still going. What remained was a much younger crowd. There were a couple dozen teenagers and people in their twenties, all determined to make the most of the rare excuse to stay out late.

I found Daniel near the fire, talking to a couple of guys from the next village over. The fake blood smeared across his cheek had begun to fade, and his huntsman's axe was still nowhere to be seen.

He looked up when he saw me and smiled like nothing in the world had changed.

"There you are," he said. "Thought the Big Bad Wolf might have gobbled you up."

"Huh?" For a split second, my stomach dropped.

He laughed, oblivious to the jokes double meaning. He patted the log beside him and handed me a cup of cider as I sat down. I took a sip and tried to follow the conversation around us but it was near-impossible to focus. I flinched slightly when Daniel rested his hand on my knee but he barely seemed to notice.

In some ways, none of it felt real. It felt as if I'd imagined the whole thing, but then I'd notice the dull ache between my legs, and every time I shifted to get comfortable I'd feel Martin's cum still warm inside me.

And then, across the fire, I saw him.

Martin was standing with a couple of the remaining older men, a fresh bottle of cider in his hand. He glanced over in our direction, and for a moment we locked eyes. All I could think about was the way he grunted when he came, how he'd told me to keep him inside of me, the kiss that had felt more intimate than everything else.

I blushed and looked away.

********************************************

"And you just sat next to Daniel for the rest of the night?"

I let out a short, guilty laugh. "What else was I supposed to do? I kept waiting for the guilt to kick in. It sort of did, but underneath it there was this... intense arousal. Despite everything, I could feel myself just getting wetter and wetter."

Charlotte's eyebrows shoot up. "Jesus. Did anything else happen that night?"

I hesitate, biting my lip.

"Later," I say quietly. "After everyone else had gone."

********************************************

It was well past midnight by the time we got back to our room.

The hallway had been dark and quiet. Martin's door was shut. I could see the thin line of light under it as we passed.

The second our own door clicked shut behind us, Daniel's hands were all over me.

His pressed his mouth against the side of my neck, the same place his dad had kissed me when we fucked just hours earlier. He pushed my hood to the side, dragging his lips down my sensitive skin.

The scent of woodsmoke was heavy on his clothes and there was an unmistakeable smell of cider on his breath.

When he finally arrived at my lips, I closed my eyes as we embraced in a deep and messy kiss. His hands went straight to my waist, then lower, pulling me in against him so I could feel he was already hard.

"Lil," he murmured against my mouth. "I've been looking at you in this fucking costume all night. All I could think about was tearing it off you."

His hand found it's way under my skirt before I could react. I felt his fingers brush the inside of my thigh, higher and higher.

I was barely able to catch his wrist before he felt the cold, sticky smear of his dad's cum that was still coating me from earlier.

"Wait!" My voice came out thinner than I wanted. "Maybe I could..." I was already dropping, knees hitting the floorboards, reaching for the leather belt of his costume. "Here, let me take care of you like this. Please."

Daniel laughed and hauled me back up by the arms before I could even get the buckle open. He pinned me gently but firmly against the bed, one thigh sliding between mine, and I could feel his cock pointing straight at me from his trousers.

"I want to be inside you, Red."

The nickname made my stomach twist. I tried again, desperate, pressing a hand to his chest.

"Are you sure you can handle it after all that cider? You're a little gone. Here, why don't you let me go down and..."

"I'm sure, babe." His voice was certain.

Leaning in, his mouth clumsily brushed my ear, and his free hand went straight for my skirt again, more hesitant this time. "Unless you don't want to?"

I froze. The tip of his finger grazed the edge of my cum-stained underwear. One more inch and he'd feel exactly what his father had left inside me.

The truth was, I wanted to feel him more than anything. I was unbelievably horny, aching with the need to be filled again. The idea of Daniel sliding into me and unknowingly pushing Martin's load back into me with every thrust made my head spin.

Daniel tugged my skirt and underwear down together.

I was already soaking wet again. Truthfully, I think I'd been this wet all night. It was difficult to determine what was mine and what was Martins.

He shoved his own pants down, climbed on top of me, and settled between my thighs. The head of his cock nudged against me.

I should have stopped him.

Instead, I held my breath as he pushed against my sticky folds. He slid in with barely any resistance.

After the way Martin had stretched me open, the contrast made my breath catch. Daniel was familiar and comfortable, but I could still feel the ghost of that thicker shape, the way Martin had forced me to take every inch his son didn't have.

Daniel began to move. Tipsy thrusts, that glided through the slippery mess his father had pumped into me.

I had to bite my lip to stay quiet.

Martin was right down the hall. Probably still awake. Maybe he could even hear the bed. The idea made me clench around Daniel hard enough that he groaned and thrust deeper.

"Fuck, baby, you're soaked," he muttered against my neck, his voice thick with cider and lust. "Were you thinking about your handsome Huntsman all night, Red?"

I couldn't answer.

I just wrapped my legs even tighter around him and let him fuck me, with every single stroke serving as a filthy reminder of the disparity between him and his dad.

All I could think about was the wood store, Martin's hands on my hips, the way he'd spat into me and pushed his load deeper with his fingers. Now his son was fucking that same load back inside me with every eager thrust.

Daniel's rhythm grew faster, less coordinated, the cider clearly hitting him hard. His face was still buried in my neck and I could feel his breath coming out hot and uneven. He fucked me with clumsy, eager strokes while I stared at the ceiling and thought about the man in the room down the hall.

Unsurprisingly, it didn't take long for me to reach my climax.

It wasn't nearly the same intensity as earlier. It was quieter, laced with guilt, and somehow even hotter because of it.

Daniel followed almost immediately after, thrusting deep and spilling inside me with a muffled groan. I felt the fresh, warmer rush of him mixing with what was already there.

He panted as he collapsed onto me and I stroked his hair as his spent cock finished twitching inside of me.

After a minute, he pulled out and rolled onto his back, already half-asleep from the alcohol and the sex. I lay there beside him in the dark with a cocktail of both my boyfriend and his fathers cum slowly leaking out of me onto the sheets.

********************************************

Charlotte is staring at me, lips slightly parted as she picks at the half-empty bottle forgotten in her hand.

"Holy shit," she says finally. "That is... genuinely one of the most fucked-up things I've ever heard."

"And the next day things got worse," I continue, "When we were all in the packing barn."

********************************************

NOVEMBER 1ST 1 DAY AFTER HALLOWEEN...

The bonfire was little more than a mound of grey ash. The only remnant of the Halloween party were some sad-looking Jack-o'-lanterns and the strings of lights lining the stone wall that connected the farmhouse to the packing barn. With the nights only forecast to get darker, Martin had decided to keep them as a permanent feature.

It was milder than the previous few days, but even so, I was dressed for the cold. I was wearing a fitted thermal top beneath a thick, forest-green jumper, utility trousers, and my usual pair of boots that were flecked with mud from the yard.

Inside the packing barn, Daniel was leaning over a stack of crates, sleeves rolled up as he sorted through the apples, flicking the bad ones into the reject bin.

Several paces away, Martin moved between the table and the tanks, checking the levels and jotting down notes.

I was packing.

Or rather, I was trying to.

The sight of my boyfriend and his father in front of me, exchanging words as they worked, had proven to be something of a distraction.

Every time they spoke something twisted in my stomach. I kept catching my gaze landing on Martin's hands instead of the apples in front of me.

I spent the first couple of hours lost in my thoughts, working mostly in silence.

A little before midday we heard a vehicle pulling into the yard.

Charlotte opened the front doors and stepped outside to speak with the driver. Daniel instinctively grabbed the platform truck, checked the finished boxes, and began wheeling them toward the entrance.

As soon as we were alone, Martin came down to my end of the table under the pretence of checking a batch of labels.

He didn't look at me when he spoke.

"I want you to step out the back for me."

Heat flooded between my legs so fast it made my thighs press together under the table.

"When you get there," he continued, still not looking at me, "you're going to take your underwear off and bring them back to me."

A helpless throb answered him immediately. I was already wet. The simple, calm way he said it made it worse, like this was just another work instruction for me to follow.

"Don't make it obvious," he said. "And don't take long."

Then he turned back to the labels as if he'd only asked me to check a delivery note.

I stood there for a second, heart hammering. The thought of walking back across the barn with nothing underneath my clothes made my stomach flip.

Depriving myself of an opportunity to talk myself out of it, I slipped out the back doors before Daniel or Charlotte could return.

Behind the barn was a secluded space, boxed in by a large wooden fence and several overhanging apple trees. When I got there, I stepped out of my boots, unfastened my trousers, and pushed them down. I hooked my fingers into my already-damp underwear and dragged them down, stepping out of them one foot at a time. Somehow this had become something of a habit over the past few days.

I balled the warm, damp fabric in my fist and pulled my trousers back up. Without the thin layer of cotton the seam of the material sat directly against me. Every small movement rubbed me in a way that made my breath catch.

When I got back inside, Daniel was still moving the last stack of boxes near the doors and Charlotte still hadn't returned.

Martin was waiting at the end of the table. I walked up to him and held out my hand without a word.

He took the underwear from me, lingering just long enough to feel how warm and damp the fabric was. He folded them neatly, and slid them into the inside pocket of his coat.

"Good girl," he said, so quietly only I could hear it.

The two words sent a fresh rush of heat straight between my legs as I went back to my place at the packing table.

For a while Martin left me alone. Daniel and Charlotte returned from dealing with the pickup and settled back at their stations. Aside from the occasional chatter and the radio playing in the background, we were all largely in our own worlds, still recovering from the Halloween party.

Roughly an hour later, Martin passed close behind me to reach for a roll of tape on the shelf above my station. As he stretched, his hip pressed against my ass, and I felt the thick, shape of his cock through his clothes. The contact lasted only a second or two, but it was clearly deliberate. I kept my eyes on the apples and forced my hands to keep moving.

Some time later, he asked me to help him check a batch of labels at the far end of the table.

"Stay still," he whispered in my ear.

One of his hands settled on my hip. The other slid down, found the waistband of my trousers, and slipped inside. His fingers moved over bare skin and immediately found the wetness he had caused. Two thick fingers stroked through it, before settling over my clit.

Daniel was only a few metres away, back turned, humming under his breath as he sealed boxes. Charlotte had stepped into the small office to take a phone call about an order.

I bit down on a sound.

The packing table in front of me hid the worst of what was happening, but if Daniel turned around or Charlotte finished her call early there would be no explaining the look on my face, or the way I was leaning into Martin's hand.

He didn't push inside. Instead, he continued rubbing my clit until my legs started to tremble and I had to brace both hands on the edge of the table to stay upright.

My hips tried to push back against his fingers of their own accord. He allowed it for several seconds until I felt myself coming closer to the edge. Then, without any warning, he pulled his fingers free and stepped away.

I stayed bent over the table trying to get my breathing under control when Daniel turned around.

"You all right?" he asked, frowning slightly.

I forced myself upright and reached for another apple with unsteady hands.

"Fine," I said. "It's just warm in here."

Daniel accepted it with a small shrug, grabbed a marker from my table, and turned back to the boxes.

I risked a glance at Martin. He was already at the far end of the packing table, sorting labels with the same focus as always. Only the briefest flick of his eyes in my direction told me he'd caught the exchange.

For the next couple of hours, he barely looked at me. It wasn't until later that afternoon, when a second driver arrived to collect an order, that we were finally left alone. Charlotte and Daniel went outside to help load the van, their voices fading round the corner.

Martin waited until he was sure they were both gone before he came down the length of the table.

"Have you been wet all afternoon?" he asked.

"Yes."

He pressed a palm against my pussy over the fabric, his fingers curling just enough to apply pressure.

"I can feel it through your clothes."

"You've been driving me crazy. I just want to feel you again."

"Tonight," he said. "I want you in my room. After he's asleep. Can you do that?"

I simply nodded, not trusting my voice.

"Yes," I managed. "I'll be there."

"Good."

He gave me one last firm, possessive squeeze through the soaked fabric, then released me and stepped back.

I forced myself upright just as my boyfriend stepped back through the open doors. Martin was already at the far end of the barn, calmly stacking the last of the empty crates as if he'd not so much as glanced at me in Daniels absence.

The rest of the shift passed in a blur. By the time we locked up, my trousers were damp and I was shaking with anticipation.

We'd obviously had sex before, but I still hadn't recovered from the first time, and things were different now. Intentional. Like we'd crossed the line and there was finally no second guessing about what either of us wanted.

I was going to his room, and he was going to fuck me. That was our arrangement now.

Plus, last time had been cut short. There was so much more that I wanted to do with Martin, and provided we weren't interrupted, we wouldn't have to hold back tonight.

We'd sat down to dinner as a four earlier that evening. An apple and sausage casserole had been simmering away in the oven, warming the room and filling the air with the smell of herbs. We ate it with thick slices of crusty bread, and washed it down with a bottle of red wine that Julian had left us on the night of the party.

I'd been seated next to Daniel, with Charlotte opposite me and Martin at the far end of the long kitchen table.

Martin had never been the chatty type, but I was amazed at how well he seemed to keep it together despite the thick wall of tension between us.

I wasn't doing nearly as good a job.

I kept catching myself staring off into space, usually in Martin's direction. I had to repeatedly force my attention back to the conversation just to stay present.

My appetite had practically disappeared too, despite the delicious smell coming from the casserole, I'd hardly made a dent in the plate in front of me.

I was also painfully aware of everyone around me, and even more aware of what was waiting for me once we retired to bed. I pressed my thighs together under the table and stared down at my plate.

Daniel leaned back in his chair with a groan, pushing a hand through his hair.

"I'm never drinking again."

Charlotte looked up from her plate. "You said that last Halloween."

"Yeah, well. This time I mean it. I think there was something wrong with that cider."

"Yeah. The fact you had several cups of the stuff," Martin grumbled. "But maybe I should have a stern word with my team if you think something was off?"

"No, no! It was pressed to perfection." Daniel laughed, helping himself to another serving. "What about you, Charlotte? How have I never seen you hungover."

"Some of us know when to stop," Charlotte said brightly, reaching for another piece of bread.

Daniel gave her a look. "I saw how much mulled cider you were putting away."

"Yeah, but I'm not a lightweight that can't handle my drink."

"Ouch."

I hid a smile behind my mug, grateful for the distraction.

"And what happened to you two anyway?" Daniel shook his head and turned his attention to Martin and me. "Where did you disappear off to?"

Martin took a slow sip of coffee. "Someone had to go and keep things running while you were busy showing off to them local boys."

"I was not showing off!" Daniel straightened in his chair.

"No?" Martin looked at him over the rim of his mug. "Could've fooled me. You were swaggering about behind that bar like you owned the bloody place."

"Yeah, well." He sat back, trying to recover some dignity. "For the record, they thought I was very cool."

Martin nodded gravely. "I'm sure they did, son."

By the time the plates were cleared my mind was racing at a mile a minute.

We spent the rest of the evening stretched out on the sofa watching The Company of Wolves whilst I tried not to think about a certain wolf sitting only a few feet away.

Daniel snuggled up beside me on the sofa, one arm stretched along the back behind my shoulders, while Martin settled into the armchair opposite.

Every so often I felt his eyes on me and my heart fluttered. I could still feel the phantom pressure of his hand on me, the way those thick fingers felt inside me.

Around half past ten Charlotte stood and stretched.

"I'm done," she said. "I've got an early start in the morning."

She said goodnight and headed upstairs.

Daniel yawned, then leaned over and pressed a slow kiss to the side of my head.

"Come on," he murmured. "We should really get some rest too."

We said our goodnights. Martin only nodded once from the armchair, glass still in hand. I felt the weight of his gaze on my back the entire way to the door and up the stairs.

Once we got to our room, Daniel moved through his usual routine. He brushed his teeth and stripped down to his boxers before climbing into bed with a tired, contented sigh.

When I slid under the covers beside him he immediately pulled me in against his chest and gave me a kiss goodnight.

"Love you," he mumbled, already rolling onto his side.

"Love you too," I whispered.

I laid on my back and stared up at the ceiling, wide awake as the minutes passed by.

It didn't take long for Daniel's breathing to slow beside me.

I kept perfectly still so I wouldn't disturb him, but inside I was vibrating. Every minute that passed stretched the tension tighter.

Then I heard it.

Footsteps on the stairs.

Martin coming up to bed.

I heard the creak of his bedroom door, some muffled movements, and then silence again.

I stayed where I was and forced myself to give it time. Five minutes. Ten.

Struck between eagerly wanting to dash over there and the nervous anticipation of it all, I laid there, trying to steady my breathing.

I turned my head and looked at Daniel. His face was slack with sleep, mouth hanging slightly open.

I laid still and listened to the rhythm of his breathing for a couple more minutes. I had to be absolutely sure.

Then, as quietly as I could, I gently eased the covers back.

I swung my legs over the side of the bed, feeling the cool floorboards underneath my bare feet. Pausing one last time to check, I moved silently toward the door.

The hallway was pitch black. I wasn't accustomed to this level of darkness and silence back in the city. I contemplated going back for my phone to use the torch but it was too risky.

Slowly easing the bedroom door closed behind me, I began down the stretch of corridor between our room and Martin's.

I reached out clumsily in the darkness and found the handle after several attempts.

This was the last moment I could still turn back and crawl back into bed beside Daniel.

But I'd already made up my mind.

I pushed the door open just wide enough to slip through and eased it shut behind me.

The room was equally as dark as the corridor and I found myself stood in place, trying to remember the layout from the few times I'd glanced inside from the doorway.

I realised at this point, that I'd never actually stepped foot in Martin's room before. And why would I have? He's my boyfriend's dad.

"Is he asleep?" came Martin's voice from the darkness.

"Yes." I whispered.

There was a soft shift of movement somewhere ahead of me. The mattress creaked once.

"Come here."

I moved toward the sound of his voice. The darkness was so thick that I couldn't even make out the outline of the furniture.

When I was close enough, Martin's hand found my wrist. His fingers closed around it, drawing me nearer. Before I could say anything, his other hand found my waist and he pulled me right up against him.

His mouth met mine in a kiss that was anything but tentative. I reached for him instinctively, fingers wrapping around his shoulders as I kissed him back and that tension between us melted away.

My palms the hard plane of his stomach and I followed the soft hair lower until I found what I was looking for.

He was already fully hard. The heat of him against my soft palms made my legs shake. As I tightened my grip I was once again awestruck by it's girth. Somehow, I'd managed to take this thick cock inside me.

A low sound left him as I began to stroke, feeling it's weight once again.

I leaned in, guided only by the warmth of his breath, and found his mouth once again. His hand slid up and worked it's way into my hair, holding me there as I continued stroking him, my other hand braced on his thigh for balance.

When we finally broke apart I was breathing harder than before. The entire day had felt like foreplay and I was done waiting. I needed my boyfriend's daddy's big dick back inside me.

I slid down off the edge of the bed and onto my knees between his spread thighs. In the dark I could only make out the vague shape of him, but that was all I needed. I leaned forward, one hand still wrapped around the base of his cock, and dragged the flat of my tongue up the underside.

Martin's breath left him in a rough exhale.

I did it again, slower this time.

Then, when I couldn't hold back any longer, I closed my mouth around the head and sucked. My free hand gripped his thigh for balance. The other stroked what I couldn't fit.

He was big enough that my jaw had to really stretch to accommodate him.

I pushed myself to take him further, letting it fill the back of my throat as his fingers tightened in my hair.

"Fuck," he muttered from somewhere in the darkness. "That's good."

I moaned around him, the sound vibrating against his cock. Spit gathered at the corners of my lips and coated his shaft. Every time I pulled back I twisted my hand around his length, then sank down again, taking as much as I could without gagging.

Martin's hips shifted. He began to meet my mouth with short thrusts, essentially fucking my throat while his hand stayed buried in my hair. I relaxed my throat and let him use me.

My eyes began to water as I spluttered and choked, letting the spit to run down my chin and drip onto my pyjama top.

When he pulled me off him with a soft, wet pop, a thin string of spit connected my lower lip to the head of his cock. Martin's thumb dragged across my mouth, collecting the spit, and pushed it back between my lips.

"Deeper, Lil."

I nodded and sank down, forcing myself past the point of comfort until my nose was as close to his stomach as I could physically get. He held me there for a long second, cock throbbing against the back of my throat, before he finally let me pull back just enough to get my breath back. Spit was now running freely down my chin and onto my chest.

Every time the head of his cock pushed into my throat I felt another rush of heat between my legs. I loved letting him use me like I was his toy to break.

My jaw was really beginning to ache, but I didn't stop. I sucked him harder, using my tongue along the underside as I stroked the thick base with my hand in time with my mouth.

He was getting close. I could feel it in the way his thighs tensed and how his cock swelled even thicker and the veins began to pop against my tongue.

Then he pulled me off him suddenly.

I knelt there panting and he dragged the tip across my lower lip, smearing precum and saliva over my mouth.

"You're really good at that," he said, voice low. "I want you on your back. Legs spread for me."

Finally. Relief flooded over me.

He guided me up onto the bed and the mattress dipped under our weight. Before I could settle he was already removing my pyjama shorts and tossing them aside.

Martin pushed my thighs apart and I felt him lower himself down between my legs.

The first drag of his tongue made me gasp and arch my back. I was aching from the entire day of being kept on edge and his tongue felt incredible.

When Daniel went down on me, it was gentle, delicate licks that felt more affectionate and loving. Martin licked me like he was starving.

His tongue was flat as he brought it through my folds in long strokes. When he got to my clit, he sucked it between his lips and worked his tongue across it until my hips were twitching helplessly against his mouth. One of his hands pinned my thighs open. The other slid up to press down on my lower stomach, holding me in place while he ate me.

I had to clamp a hand over my own mouth to stay quiet.

He groaned against me, the vibration shooting straight through my cunt. Then, without warning, he pushed two of those thick fingers I loved straight inside me. The stretch made me whimper into my palm. He curled them and began to rub hard against the sensitive front wall while his tongue kept working my clit.

"Fuck, Martin! Oh my god..." I choked out, the word barely a whisper.

Martin didn't ease up. Every time I got close he would change the rhythm just enough to keep me from tipping over, dragging it out until I was trembling and dripping onto his sheets.

When he finally let me climax, it hit like a fucking tidal wave.

My cunt clamped down around his fingers as the orgasm tore through me. I bit down on my own hand to keep from crying out and waking the entire house. My hips jerked against his mouth while he carried on licking and sucking me through it. He didn't stop until I was twitching and oversensitive, trying to twist away from his grip.

Only then did he lift his head.

I heard him wipe his mouth with the back of his hand. Then he was moving up over me in the dark, the thick head of his cock dragging through my entrance once again.

Instead of pushing straight inside like I prayed he would, he just held himself there, resting against me as we both caught our breath.

I was shaking with how badly I needed him. The entire day, the underwear, the touching in the barn, it had left me desperate.

My hips tried to lift toward him, aching to feel him again but his hand settled on my thigh and held me still.

"Not yet," he said quietly. His voice was rough. "I've been thinking about this since the second you walked into the barn this morning. Watching you work with nothing under your clothes, knowing you were wet for me the whole fucking day."

I swallowed. "Please... Martin. Please just fuck me."

He dragged the thick head of his cock up and down through my soaked folds, coating himself in me. Every pass over my clit made my hips spasm, but he kept me pinned.

"I've been rock hard for hours thinking about this," he murmured against my cheek. "About getting you in my bed. Fucking you properly."

He shifted his hips and the head of his cock finally began to press inside.

Just the tip.

After being edged all day my body was almost too sensitive. I stifled a moan and Martin froze, letting me feel only that first thick inch, his forehead resting against mine.

"Fuck," he breathed. "How are you so fucking tight?"

"You're really big," I whined. The silent admission that he was bigger than his son hung heavy between us.

He pushed deeper.

Another inch.

The pressure landed like a punch. The fullness and the knowledge of exactly who was opening me up was making me feral. My nails dug into his back.

"I shouldn't know what you feel like" he said, voice low and strained.

"You shouldn't," I gasped.

"We definitely shouldn't be doing it again." Another thick inch.

"No." I shook my head but my cunt clenched hard around him, greedy for the stretch only he could give me.

He kept going feeding me another inch, then another. It certainly helped that I was so wet, but the size of him still stretched me wide open.

I bit down on a whimper as he sank further, the head of his cock rubbing over places Daniel never quite reached.

With one final push, his hips met mine and we both went still.

"I'm going to fuck you now," he said against my ear. "Slow at first. So you feel every inch as I claim this soaked little cunt. But for the sake of my son, you're going to stay quiet for me, even when it gets hard to."

He pulled back slowly, the friction after being edged all day made my toes curl. Then he pushed back in just as carefully, filling me again. I clung to his shoulders, breathing in shaky bursts against his neck.

"That's it," he breathed. "Show me how bad you need it. How much you need your boyfriend's dad to stretch you open like this."

"Martin! Fuck, I can't..."

"Yes you can." he whispered. "Tell me how it feels to take me while my son is sound asleep down the hall."

"It feels so fucking wrong," I shook my head and gasped as he thrust in again. "Knowing it's you. Knowing I'm letting his dad fuck me. But I can't stop. It feels too good. I need you Martin, I need you to fuck me. Please."

His hand slid down between us and found my clit as he started to thrust in and out of me.

"I was thinking about this all day," he said against my ear, voice low. "Watching you with him at dinner. Knowing that I've had you. Knowing I'd get to have you again."

I turned my face into the side of his neck, trying to stay quiet despite how much his words were getting to me.

"All I could think about was how you felt inside me." I whispered. "How bad I needed to feel you again."

Martin kept the same rhythm, neither fucking me fast nor slow, just deep strokes that dragged every thick inch of his cock along my walls. The stretch burned in the best way as his shaft rubbed against that spot inside me until I couldn't take it any longer.

I came hard, pressing my face into his shoulder, my thighs shaking as I clamped around him like a vice. My body locked up as I shuddered violently in his arms. He held me through it, still moving and whispering against my ear.

"That's it. Just like that."

Even after it faded he didn't stop. He fucked me through the aftershocks like he wasn't ready to give up the feeling of me yet.

"I'm going to fill you again," he said quietly. "Is that okay?"

I nodded, still floating up in space. "Yes."

He shifted his weight and began to speed up, grinding against me in small fast movements. I could feel how close he was from his breathing and the way he gripped me even tighter.

One of his hands slid under my lower back, tilting my hips up hard so he could fuck me even deeper. The change in angle made me gasp and Martin clamped his mouth over mine, swallowing the sound. He kept thrusting, grinding that thick cock into the deepest part of me like he was trying to leave a permanent imprint.

I was still sensitive and overstimulated from the last orgasm, and the new angle only heightened the sensations. He was so deep I could feel him in my stomach.

My eyes were rolling back. I'd never been fucked like this before.

"You feel that?" His voice was rough, barely above a whisper. "How deep I am right now? All the way inside you."

I nodded frantically, unable to form words, nails digging into his shoulders as another helpless whimper tried to escape.

"Has anyone been this deep before?"

I shook my head and he fucked harder.

The new force made the mattress shift under us. A rhythmic creak started up with every thrust, getting louder and louder until it felt like the foundations were shaking.

THUD-THUD-THUD-THUD-THUD-THUD.

Martin's hand slid up and covered my mouth again as his hips kept driving into me.

My own breathing had grown harder to keep quiet. Every deep thrust forced small muffled noises against his palm.

The mattress was protesting more openly with every stroke.

THUD-THUD-THUD-THUD-THUD-THUD.

My own orgasm was building again, fed by the intensity and the very real chance that Daniel might hear. The thought only made me clench around Martin tighter.

"Fuck," he muttered against my cheek, directed as much to himself as it was me.

Panic filled my chest and I twisted my head just enough to gasp out a desperate whisper against his fingers.

"Martin-- have to. Daniel... down the hall ... hear us--"

THUD-THUD-THUD-THUD-THUD-THUD.

I couldn't tell if he could hear me over the headboard slamming the wall. I could barely even hear my own voice. The bed was rocking hard enough that the whole frame shuddered with every punishing slam of his cock. Martin's hips snapped forward again and again, burying that veiny shaft so deep my vision blurred.

I opened my mouth again, desperate to repeat myself, to tell him to slow down, that we were being too loud, that his son was right down the hall and might hear his girlfriend getting fucked senseless by his own father.

Except I couldn't find the words.

My brain was pure mush. The fear was still there, but it was pushed aside by a deeper need. All that came out instead were needy, broken moans that rivalled the noise of the bed itself.

"Martin--! Martin, oh fuck... Martin--"

His name poured out of me like a prayer. Not Daniel's. Not my boyfriend's. Just Martin. Over and over.

"Martin! Martin, oh my god... don't stop... don't you fucking stop--"

I wanted him to fill me again. Last time had felt so good that I wanted that feeling permanently. I wanted to walk around carrying it. Even knowing the risk that I might give my boyfriend a sibling.

THUD-THUD-THUD-THUD-THUD-THUD.

The pressure on my clit from the angle of his hips and the relentless, bottomless depth of his cock finally broke me.

"Martin, I'm cumming! I'm cumming! Oh my god, Martin... yes, yes, yes... ohhhhhh!"

I came hard and suddenly. My body writhed under him as my second orgasm of the night exploded through me. My legs locked around his waist like a vice, heels digging into his back, forcing him even deeper as I gushed around him, soaking his cock, his balls, and the sheets beneath us.

Martin followed immediately, and I felt his hips jerk as he emptied another huge load into me. I felt every twitch of his cock, and the way his cum flooded me as he ground against me through the climax, making sure I took every drop.

The bed gave one last creak under the force of his final thrust and he stayed buried through every spasm, holding me tightly in his arms as we desperately tried to get our breath back.

I laid perfectly still, listening as the silence settled around us, broken only by the frantic pounding of my own heartbeat.

********************************************

The fire is little more than a bed of embers now. I stare at the last dots of red as they slowly fade out.

Charlotte is quiet for so long that I finally glance up at her.

I can barely make out her features in the darkness, but there's something in the way she hesitates that makes my stomach tighten.

"I thought it was you and Daniel..." She says slowly.

"You heard us?" I close my eyes and grimace. "How bad was it?"

She presses her lips together.

"Charlotte?"

She winces. "It was pretty loud."

"Fuck."

I drag a hand over my face. Charlotte's room was further away than the guest room Daniel and I had been sleeping in. My stomach does a flip at the thought of him lying just a wall away, potentially listening to the whole thing.

"Do you think he heard?"

She hesitates, and that tiny pause is somehow worse than anything she could say.

"I don't know," she admits. "He hasn't said anything to me. I only heard because I was awake. He might have been completely out of it."

I wrap my arms around myself, suddenly feeling cold despite the coat.

"Although..." She looks back towards the farmhouse, her expression sobering. "You weren't exactly keeping it down by the end."

I feel my cheeks warm. "Thank you for that helpful observation."

I know she's right.

Somewhere between the first warning and the last orgasm I stopped caring. I'd stopped thinking about anything beyond Martin and what he was doing to me.

Charlotte shrugs and gets to her feet, brushing ash from her jeans. "Come on. Let's get to bed before someone comes looking for Little Red Riding Cock."

I jab her in the arm.

"Ow!" She rubs the spot. "Come on, it was right fucking there! It was way too tempting."

"Yeah? Well some temptations are better left alone."

"Clearly not all of them." She winks.

We collect the empty bottles and head towards the farmhouse, our boots crunching over the gravel.

Inside, the house is dark and still. Martin and Daniel have been upstairs for hours, and the thought of them sleeping just a wall apart makes my stomach flutter for reasons I'd rather not examine.

We deposit the bottles into the recycling and I follow Charlotte upstairs. At the top, she pauses outside her room.

"Thanks for telling me, Lil." She whispers softly. "It's fucked up, obviously. But I get it. More than you probably think."

I raise an eyebrow. "That sounds suspicious."

"Oh, absolutely not. This is your evening. I'm merely the supportive friend."

"Hmm."

I look at her, unsure what to say before she pulls me into a hug.

She draws back with a small smile. "Promise me you'll try to get some sleep."

"I'll do my best."

"Night, Lil."

"Night, Charlotte."

She slips into her room, leaving me alone on the landing.

For a moment, I stand perfectly still, looking at the two doors before me.

Daniel is behind one door. Martin is behind another.

My loving Huntsman and my Big Bad Wolf.

I know which door I ought to open. I know which bed I ought to climb into, which arms I ought to curl up in.

The right choice is obvious. But spend enough time around apples, and you eventually learn that the forbidden fruit is always the sweetest.

********************************************

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Thanks again for giving my story a chance.

Happy Halloween! ????