Free Access: Second Chance

Donald came home late one night after a long ten-hour shift at the construction company, then four hours at the local bar down the street from his job. When he stepped inside, the house felt quiet and dim, with only the soft glow of the television lighting the living room. Everyone was still awake except his wife, Tessa, whom he had been married to for twenty-seven years. She was there, but asleep on the couch, slumped against the armrest as if she had dozed off while watching TV.

His three grown children were still in the living room too: Anabell, twenty-five; Jason, twenty-three; and Emily, nineteen, the youngest. They were all stretched out on the pallet Emily usually slept on each night, crowded together in the middle of the room. Also lying on the pallet were Eric, Anabell’s husband and Donald’s son-in-law, and Danielle, the girlfriend Jason had recently started bringing around, though everyone called her Danni.

Donald paused in the doorway, taking in the scene with tired eyes. So many people packed into the living room made the house feel full and cramped, and for a moment he just stood there, worn out and quiet, trying to understand why everyone was still up and gathered like that.

Then he noticed none of the kids were wearing clothes, and none of them were watching the television. He glanced at the screen and noticed it was a porno flick, with the volume turned down low. The flick was showing three people, two girls and a guy, going at it, but his living room had the true-life version.

Eric was fucking his young sister-in-law, Emily, from behind, while she was between Danni's legs, eating her pussy. And then he noticed his oldest daughter, Anabell, between his son Jason's legs, sucking his dick, while he played and squeezed his girlfriend Danni's tits.

Neither of them was watching television or had noticed him arrive home. He quietly entered the room, stepped around them, and sat on the couch. He sat at the other end of the couch from where his wife slept through the live orgy. He leaned back, still without making a sound, and watched the group of young people. Every so often, he glanced up at the television. He was a little surprised, but did not seem upset. In fact, Donald found himself more intrigued than angry, watching how the five of them had found a way to share this intimacy.

He wondered how long this had been going on, as he watched Eric, Emily, and Danni switch places. Eric started fucking Danni, while Jason continued to squeeze on her breasts, and Emily moved up to let Danni take a taste of her sweet little pussy. Then Anabell shifted her position, so Jason could eat her pussy while she continued to suck his dick.

The sounds were soft in the room—moans and whispers, the wet friction of bodies moving together, and a faint rhythm from the porn film still playing on the television. Donald felt his cock begin to swell in his pants as he watched the scene unfold. He undid his belt, unbuttoned and unzipped his pants, and pulled out his hard cock. He wrapped his hand around his shaft and began to stroke himself as he watched them.

Anabell’s face was buried deep between her brother's thighs. Donald watched the muscles in her back flex as she worked her tongue, her hips shifting slightly with the rhythm of her own arousal. Emily arched her back, gasping softly, her hands tangled in Danni's hair. Meanwhile, Jason sucked his sister's clit, while one hand still on Danni’s breast and the other pushing a finger deep inside Anabell's tight ass.

The air in the room was heavy with the scent of sweat and sex, mingling with the faint smell of stale beer and cheap whiskey that clung to Donald’s clothes. He felt the heat rising from the pallet, where five bodies moved together in a tangled mess of limbs and passion. Donald’s strokes became faster, his breath catching in his throat as he watched the scene unfold.

Danni’s moans grew louder, her hips bucking up to meet Eric’s thrusts. Emily leaned back, her head thrown back in pleasure as she ground her hips against Danni’s face. Anabell shuddered, her body tensing as Jason’s tongue sent waves of pleasure through her.

Donald’s hand moved with a steady rhythm, his eyes fixed on the sight before him. He watched as the five of them moved together, their bodies slick with sweat and desire, their moans filling the room with a raw, primal energy. He could feel the tension building inside him, the pleasure coiling in his groin as he stroked himself faster, his breath coming in ragged gasps.

He looked over at his still sleeping wife and knew she was out because she drank too much; that's when he noticed the liquor bottle by her head on the side table. He frowned at her and tucked himself inside his pants. He eased up from the couch, tiptoed out of the room unnoticed, and went down the hall of their small three-bedroom home to his and Tessa's room. He closed the door and didn't bother with the lights as he went to their bathroom.

Inside the bathroom, he stripped his clothes and turned on the shower. He stepped inside and let the hot water cascade over his body, washing away the day's grime and the lingering scent of the bar. He leaned against the tiled wall, the water beating down on his back, and replayed the living room scene in his mind.

His cock was still hard, and he wrapped his hand around it, the slick soap providing a smooth glide as he began to stroke himself. He thought about Emily, her lithe body arching in pleasure, her gasps filling the room. He thought about Anabell, her mouth full of her brother's cock, her hips grinding against Jason's face. He thought about Danni, her body writhing under Eric's thrusts, her moans growing louder with each passing second.

Then he thought about the woman he had been with that night. At the bar. The little redhead he danced with and had drinks with before he took her out to his truck. She was a wild one and fucked him so good; she was still on his mind. He remembered the way her red hair splayed across the passenger seat of his truck, how her green eyes had burned with a hunger that matched his own. The way she'd scratched lines down his back when she came, her breath hot and ragged against his neck.

He imagined her there with him in the shower, her body pressed against his, the water streaming over both of them as they moved together. He imagined her hands on his cock, her lips on his neck, her breath hot in his ear. He imagined her moans, the way she'd screamed his name when he thrust into her, the way she'd wrapped her legs around him, pulling him deeper inside.

Donald's strokes grew faster, his breath catching in his throat as he imagined her there with him. He could feel the tension building inside him, the pleasure coiling in his groin as he stroked himself harder, faster. He could feel the heat rising in his body, the water cascading over him as he imagined her there, her body pressed against his, her breath hot in his ear.

He came with a strangled gasp, his seed spilling into the water, the pleasure washing over him in waves. He leaned against the tiled wall, his body trembling, as the water continued to cascade over him, washing away the evidence of his release. He stayed there for a long moment, his breathing ragged, his mind still reeling from the intensity of the memory.

When he finally stepped out of the shower, he felt a strange mix of exhaustion and relief. He dried himself off, the rough towel scraping against his sensitive skin, and walked back into the bedroom. Tessa had still not come to bed. He figured she was still asleep on the couch, her body slumped against the armrest, the empty liquor bottle standing sentinel on the side table. He could hear the faint sounds of the orgy still in progress, the moans and whispers, the wet friction of bodies moving together.

He sighed, running a hand through his damp hair, and climbed into bed. The sheets were cool against his skin, a welcome relief after the shower and the heat of the living room. He closed his eyes, but sleep wouldn't come. Images from the living room played on a loop in his mind, mingling with the memory of the redheaded woman from the bar.

He lay there in the dark, the sounds of pleasure drifting from the living room, and wondered what the morning would bring. He wondered how they would all look at each other over breakfast, what they would say—or not say—in the bright light of day.

He paused and thought of Tessa. Twenty-seven years of marriage. They met in high school. They dated for three years, then became intimate for the first time after graduation. She became pregnant, so they got married, but six months into the pregnancy, she lost the baby, and she lost the love in her eyes.

They continued on with the marriage, trying to make things right again after the lost baby. Two years later, they had Anabell. Anabell became Tessa's main focus; afraid of losing her, too, Donald thought. Anabell grew up getting and doing whatever she wanted. Whether she needed it or not, or even if they could afford it, she got it. Two years after Anabell, Jason was born, and the same thing fell in place for him.

Donald had no say in the kids' upbringing; everything had to be Tessa's way. She would let the bills go unpaid to make the kids happy. He tried to leave her once, back when Anabell was five, and Jason was three. He had his first affair. It was a woman he worked with, but she quit and moved away, and he couldn't bring himself to leave the kids. He had to make it right for them. He tried to bring back the love they once had, but Tessa wouldn't have it. She kept herself closed off from him. That’s when her drinking started to become a problem.

Then Emily came along. The surprise baby, or so he thought. He remembered that night vividly. He'd come home from a night out with the boys to find Tessa passed out on the couch, the same scene as tonight. He'd gone to bed alone, but in the middle of the night, she'd stumbled into their room, reeking of cheap gin and something else, something musky and unfamiliar. She'd climbed into bed, her hands roaming over his body, her breath hot and heavy against his neck. She'd been more passionate than she'd been in years, her movements desperate, her moans loud and unrestrained.

The next morning, she'd woken up with a pounding headache and no memory of the night before. She'd been surprised when he'd mentioned their late-night encounter, her brow furrowed in confusion. "I don't remember that," she'd said, her voice slurred with sleep and the lingering effects of the alcohol.

But Donald remembered. He remembered the way she'd arched her back, the way she'd screamed his name, the way she'd clawed at his back. He remembered its intensity, the raw, primal energy that had passed between them. He also remembered the faint scent of another man's cologne clinging to her skin, the subtle but unmistakable trace of betrayal.

When she found out she was pregnant a month later, she was overjoyed. "See, Donnie?" she'd said, her eyes shining with tears. "We can still be happy. We can still be a family." But Donald had his doubts. He'd looked at Emily when she was born, searching for some trace of himself in her features, but he'd found none. She had Tessa's dark hair, but her eyes were a startling shade of green, the same shade as the man he'd seen her with a few weeks before Emily's conception. He'd never mentioned his suspicions, never voiced his doubts. He'd simply accepted Emily as his own, raising her as he'd raised the other two, loving her as he'd loved them.

He listened to the sounds from the living room, the moans and whispers, the wet friction of bodies moving together, and he felt a strange sense of detachment. In the years that followed, the three kids didn't really respect him. They didn't follow any of his rules, which Tessa overrode most of the time. They were all growing into their teenage years, and they were running the house. His job was to just go to work and bring in the money.

Tessa didn't work; she was a housewife and not very good at that. The kids went to school half the time and, as far as he knew, didn't have any plans for their future. Anabell met Eric at some party, who was three years older than her, and they got married the day she turned eighteen.

Anabell and Eric had been married for seven years, and they still lived in her old childhood bedroom. Emily moved out of the bedroom and into the living room, so they could have a place to live. To this day, Donald can't remember Eric working, or even having had a job before.

With Jason, he dropped out of school at sixteen. He did do some odd jobs, but that was just so he could buy his drugs. Donald refused to give him money for his bad habit. He still lived at home in his old childhood bedroom and took over his mother's car to run errands. Donald wasn't even sure whether Jason had a driver's license. He met Danni two months ago, as far as Donald remembered, and it seemed the girl was at the house all the time. Staying the night or hanging around for one thing or another. Donald was pretty sure she was living there, and nobody had told him yet.

With Emily, things were a little different. Yes, she was a handful and got whatever she wanted like her older siblings, but she was as wild. She didn't party as much as her siblings. And tonight was the first time Donald had heard or even seen that she was sexually active. In fact, he wouldn't be surprised that the night Eric took her virginity. She didn't complain as much as her siblings, and she listened to him more than they did. She worked at the local coffee shop. She had been working there for two years, and from what Donald could tell, she was paying some of the bills. He didn't mind that, but he did think she was being taken advantage of by Tessa. She was still in school, having been held back twice, but Donald wasn't sure she'd graduate.

He listened to the sounds from the living room, the moans and whispers, the wet friction of bodies moving together, and he felt a strange sense of detachment. He was an outsider in his own home, a spectator to a life that was happening all around him, but without him. He had provided for them, worked long hours, sacrificed his own desires, but what had it gotten him? A house full of people who didn't seem to notice or care that he was there, unless they needed money.

He thought about the redheaded woman from the bar again. He didn't even know her name. She'd been a distraction, a momentary escape from the reality of his life. But the memory of her was fading, replaced by the sounds and images from the living room, the tangled bodies of his children, the sight of Tessa asleep on the couch, a prisoner of her own making.

Donald soon fell asleep, wishing he had a different life.