Chapter Text
Your alarm blares, forcing your eyes to snap open. The cold gray of morning presses in through the window. Groggy, you swing your arm out to grab your phone, deactivating the alarm. Just like the last few nights, you fell asleep way too late, your ear pressed against the wall as your hand rubbed furiously at your young cunt. You stopped bothering to count the number of times you came days ago. You don’t care if it exhausts you at school, or if it’s taking away from your social life.
The only thing that occupies your mind is being able to listen to me fuck.
It started almost a week ago.
Your mother, God rest her soul, died when you were little. Since then, I’ve done my level best to take care of you. You’re my only child, and my last remaining connection to my late wife. You have always been the most important part of my life, and I gladly threw away everything else so that I could focus on you. I cut back on work at my law firm, reduced my social interactions to zero, and never once considered going on a date. But I was at every single one of your soccer games, I never missed a piano recital, and I was always there to make you dinner and help you with homework.
You’ve been grateful. You’ve appreciated the way I tried to do the job of two parents. You’ve known that while nothing could ever replace your mother, you got the best childhood either of us could manage.
And then you threw it away.
If you had known what your suggestion would have done, you tell yourself, you’d have kept your mouth shut. Of course, the way you’ve been rubbing your pussy raw every night this past week suggests otherwise, but in the mornings the guilt and shame are strong enough to make you reconsider. Daughters aren’t supposed to touch themselves like this, thinking about their fathers as they listen through the walls. Imagining what might happen if they were the ones on the other side, being made to do all manner of depraved things in service of the very cock that made them. Daughters ought not to feel like this. You are ashamed of yourself, and you hate the fact that your shame makes your pussy throb.
It had been an innocent remark. You had seen the way that Rebecca, the sweet older woman who runs our church’s praise team, had looked at me while we spoke after the service last Sunday. You had seen the warmth in my smile as I talked to her. So you had suggested that I ask Rebecca on a date. It was never supposed to cause all of this.
Our conversation about me dating had been long and laborious. I didn’t want to. I cared too much about your mother’s memory, cherished my time with you too highly. I couldn’t even begin to think about other women, even after all these years. But you had been persistent. You emphasized how long it’s been since your mother passed, and how you felt guilty for keeping me from living my own life. I insisted that I chose you, and would choose you every single time if presented with the same options. But you explained that since you were eighteen now, able to take care of yourself and manage your own daily routine, a high school senior ready to go off to college next year, that I could consider exploring those aspects of my life that I had shoved aside for years. It took over an hour, but you had smiled with satisfaction when I caved, calling Rebecca and asking her to dinner that night.
Sunday night. The first night of the rest of your life.
You had been jarred awake by the sound that has now become so familiar: a woman’s orgasmic moaning. You heard it through the wall of your bedroom, which you knew connected to my own room. You had heard how Rebecca had panted and whimpered, had heard the slaps and the sounds of our bodies colliding, and had heard her begging for more and more and more. It was hot, but you had felt shocked and embarrassed.
Until you had heard me.
The deep, low bass of my voice was so sensual. So gruff and commanding. You had never heard me speak like that before, and it awakened something in you that you’re ashamed to admit you love. You still remember that first sentence you heard from me, and it continues to send shivers down your spine.
“Worship me.”
How had I, your father who had nurtured and cherished you your entire life, the gentle giant who was so quick to drop everything around his life in service of his familial responsibilities, been the same man who could demand to be worshipped? You listened closely, your morbid curiosity mixing with arousal at this new, profane person who had previously felt so known to you. And you heard how eager Rebecca was to give me exactly what I wanted.
“You’re a fucking god,” you had heard her pant. “I’ve fantasized about this for years. Even when your wife was still alive. I always wanted you. I always wanted to give you anything you wanted. Use me, you fucking king. My entire body belongs to you.”
And use her I did.
You spent the rest of the night listening, trying to figure out what I was doing to kind, compassionate Rebecca. The older woman who had given you your first piano lessons. The sweet, matronly figure who had so often been at the front of the congregation, her hands raised in praise to the Lord. You had listened to what I did to her, and had heard her beg for more.
You don’t remember how long it took before you were grinding against your pillow. You didn’t even fully realize that you were doing it until you felt an orgasm building within you. When that wave of pleasure crashed over you, it had almost been a surprise. But ever since, you’ve never been able to stop.
You weren’t homeschooled, and you had a completely unfiltered connection to the internet across your variety of devices, so you’ve been aware of pornography, and weren’t a stranger to masturbation. But nothing had ever felt like this. You rode your pillow to orgasm after orgasm that night, and finally fell into an exhausted heap once you heard me finish all over Rebecca’s face as she celebrated. It was only five nights ago, but you’ve become a wholly different person since then.
That morning, you had come down the stairs, surprised to see Rebecca still there. She was making bacon and eggs, wearing nothing but one of my long dress shirts. Before she noticed your arrival, you had taken stock of the woman’s body. It was more voluptuous than you would have expected, her breasts and ass barely concealed and much larger than they appeared when the woman wore her Sunday best. You assumed that she was in her mid- to late-forties, making her a few years older than me. She looked great, which made you wonder why she had never been married. Your experience with porn and pop culture certainly led you to believe that a kind, submissive woman with big tits would be a great catch for any man. Yet you knew that Rebecca was always single.
When you made your presence known, Rebecca had the grace to look embarrassed.
“Oh! Hi, Catherine, sweetheart. I didn’t know whether you would be here or not. Can I pour you some orange juice?” Her smile had been mostly the same as it always was, although her chin and the corners of her mouth had a slight crust to them. You had felt your stomach somersault as you realized what it was.
“Sure,” you had said, barely able to get the word out. You sat down at your usual stool on the counter, unsure what to say.
“I… Your fa… W… how did you sleep, sweetheart?” Rebecca had asked.
“Fine.” You had lied. You hadn’t been sure what to say or do about this new dynamic that was emerging, but you felt sure that making reference to you overhearing their activities from the night would be the wrong start. “Slept like a rock, honestly. I was up kind of late doing my History homework.”
Rebecca had nodded, smiling slightly to herself. You assumed she thought you hadn’t heard a thing. You determined in that moment that you would keep it that way. But a curious thought had entered your mind- a thrilling consideration that made your heart beat faster: could you get Rebecca to tell you any details about her night with me?
“I was up pretty late with homework like I said,” you had tried to sound casual. “You two must have gotten back pretty late too, then, huh?”
Rebecca’s facade of calm had cracked, and it had made you feel powerful.
“Uh, well, sweetheart,” she had stammered, accidentally sloshing orange juice onto the countertop. “Your father… he took me to dinner and a movie, and by the time the show was over… you see, I live on the other side of town and… well, it was late.”
“He’s very considerate,” you had said, taking a sip of your orange juice. “Plus he let you borrow his favorite work shirt. Did something happen to your outfit?”
Rebecca had dropped the spatula she was using for the eggs at that moment. You couldn’t help but catch a glimpse of her ass as she bent to retrieve it, and noticed that she hadn’t been wearing panties.
“My outfit?” She had tried to recover. “Oh it, uh… my dress ripped. And also got uh… well, stained. I’m sometimes a bit of a klutz. So your father allowed me to wear this while I cooked breakfast.”
You had wondered whether I had ‘allowed’ it because I had been the one to rip Rebecca’s dress. And whether the stains on it were of my own making as well.
“Sounds like a pretty wild date,” you had said.
“You have no idea,” Rebecca had replied. She had attempted to hide a slight smirk, but you were always an observant girl.
“Will you two go out again?” You had asked. The hope that flooded Rebecca’s eyes made you want to hug her.
“I… I’d like that.” She had said, scooping a portion of scrambled eggs onto your plate. “I’d really like that, Catherine.”
The expression on Rebecca’s face had been so pure and genuine, it had made you feel guilty for toying with her. So you ate your breakfast, only occasionally stealing glances at the older woman’s cleavage.
“I’ve got to catch the bus,” you had said as you downed the rest of your orange juice. “But my dad doesn’t have to leave for work for a while. So you should… you should stick around.”
You still don’t know what caused you to do it, but you had flung your arms around Rebecca, pulling her into a hug. You had felt her immense breasts pressing against your body, and had a brief moment of wonder at what it would feel like to grab them. Rebecca was surprised, but quickly returned the hug. You had hurried out the door, wondering if she was about to become your new stepmother.
You haven’t seen Rebecca again.
It hasn’t been long, less than a week, but I have brought a new woman home every night so far. I took Rebecca out on Sunday night, and now it's Friday morning, but already this routine is beginning to feel like your new normal I usually leave the house after cleaning up our dinner, and return in the early hours of the morning. I haven’t returned alone yet. Every night, you’ve listened intently to the sounds of the women I’m fucking, wondering what exactly I must be doing to them. Wondering what they must be feeling. Wondering whether you'd enjoy it as much as they seem to. And every night you cum over and over to the sounds of my rich, gravelly voice. You’ve heard me say so many dirty things over the last few nights. Things you never thought I would even know about, let alone desire.
“Spit on it.”
“Don’t pass out on me now, you fucking whore.”
“Eat my fucking asshole.”
“If a drop of my piss gets on the carpet, you won’t be allowed to cum for the rest of the night.”
“This ass is tighter than an altar boy’s.”
The more you heard me say, the harder it became to see me as the same man who raised you. That part of me was quickly disappearing as this new identity emerged in your mind. A man. A true man, with all the force and power of a robust, intelligent, strong leader. The kind of man that made otherwise self-respecting women do depraved things. The kind of man that deserved to be treated like a king.
Now, you slowly make your way downstairs, unsure of who you’ll find today. It’s been a decently wide variety of people, with only Rebecca being someone you knew before. It’s been less than a week, so it’s hard to tell if there are any patterns to discern from my nightly liaisons, but the one thing that is absolutely certain is that I like big tits. Rebecca’s had so far been the biggest of the bunch, but if your guess is correct, no one had come home with me sporting anything below an E cup.
Your mind flashes to thoughts of your mother. She was a beautiful and serene woman, but you can remember that she had an ample bust herself. It doesn’t escape your notice that your own breasts are quite significant as well, no doubt inherited from your loving mother. That idea- that your body isn’t too different from the other women I’ve been seeing- has taken up more and more of your headspace as the week has progressed. It makes you wonder strange thoughts. Thoughts that you don’t dare allow yourself to really, truly consider. Not yet.
The sound of sizzling bacon grows louder as you descend the stairs. Yesterday, the woman cooking had been some twenty-something who worked downtown. She was nice, but hurried to finish cooking the breakfast before scurrying back upstairs to my bedroom with a tray filled with food. As you left the house, you heard the sound of her moans growing louder, clearly an indication that I wanted to work up an appetite. It took a nearly superhuman amount of willpower to leave instead of stealing yourself back in your room to listen in.
Things between you and me have been stilted since I brought Rebecca home. We both try to act like everything is normal, and there has never been any question about my love or devotion for you. I still pick you up from soccer practice, cook dinner every night, then offer to help with homework before I inevitably go out. But it’s like there’s a wall between us. A big, impenetrable wall constructed of all the things that we don’t say to each other. How could you even broach the subject? How could I? If I asked you how you felt about these new developments, what could you possibly say? Do you even know how you feel about it?
The woman cooking has her back to you, her long, flowing blonde hair nearly reaching her waist. She’s wearing my sweatshirt from law school, and past experience tells you that she’s not wearing anything else. But when she turns around, your heart sinks into your stomach.
It’s Mandy, the head cheerleader at your high school.
“Mandy?!” You gasp.
You’re an athlete. A soccer player with aspirations to keep playing in college. While you’re hardly the most popular girl in school, you’ve got plenty of close friends. But there is something about the head cheerleader that has always rankled you, and vice versa. Maybe it was when she teased you for needing an extra large sports bra back in middle school before her breasts grew in too. Maybe it was when she told your homecoming date that you had a hairy bush sophomore year. Maybe it was when she taunted you for getting an academic achievement medal at last year’s class assembly. But she’s always looked for ways to tear you down.
And now she just spent the night getting railed out by your dad.
“Oh my god!” She cries, nearly dropping her pan of bacon. “Catherine?! What the fuck are you-“
Her surprise begins to slowly shift to understanding, and a smile spreads across her lips. You wish with all your might that she wasn’t quite so pretty. That she had buck teeth or a weird mole or something that would mar her flawless face. Even now, in the early morning with her looking thoroughly disheveled, she still could be an angel. It’s disgusting.
“No way,” she says gleefully. “Nathan is… Nathan is your *father*?! He told me to make breakfast for him and his daughter, but I never would have thought that was you!”
She laughs. It sounds like the tinkle of a dozen perfectly tuned bells, with each ring crushing your soul deeper and deeper into the ground.
Last night, you had cum so hard so very many times. At one point, you collapsed onto your bed, your body quivering uncontrollably as you tried to recover. The things you heard me say, the ways you heard the woman moan and beg and celebrate my cock, the sounds of the slaps and the thuds and the slick, wet pounding had driven you absolutely wild. And it was Mandy. It had been Mandy all along.
“Well well well,” she says, taking a step towards you. There’s a malevolent gleam in her eye that you’ve seen before, and it has never been good. “Looks like we have ourselves a bit of a situation here, doesn’t it?”
“Look, you can just-“
“Ah ah ah,” Mandy says, wagging her finger at you. “I don’t think that you have anything that you can possibly say to me. Now come and sit down. I spent a long time cooking this meal for you, so eat up, young lady!”
Rage. Unbridled fury. An anger that burns with the white-hot intensity of a thousand suns boils within you. You want to tackle this bitch and shove her pristine face into the boiling bacon fat. You want to rip her luxurious hair out and shove it down her throat. You want to make her hurt. And you want it more than you’ve ever wanted anything in your life.
“Mandy-“
“Do I need to go upstairs and tell your father that you’re being a disobedient little brat?” She says, her eyebrow raised. “Sit. Now.”
She grabs the carafe of coffee and pours it into a mug for herself. She slides herself into your usual stool, patting the other one with her dainty hand.
“Don’t be a bitch just because I fucked your daddy.” She says, her voice dripping with poisoned honey. “Well, I guess it would be more accurate to say that your daddy fucked me. A lot.”
You glare at Mandy, wanting to obliterate her in a million different ways.
“It doesn’t have to be a whole thing, you know,” Mandy says, pouring more coffee into a different mug and handing it to you. “I don’t have to tell anyone. I can keep it just between the three of us.”
She looks at you expectantly.
“Why would you do that?” You say through gritted teeth.
“Because you, my sweet little honors student, are going to be doing all my homework for the rest of the year!” Mandy exclaims.
You consider the proposal. It isn’t as insane as it sounds. Having anyone at school learn that Mandy and I spent the night together and then she made you breakfast would be the kind of rumor that people remember for life. At every class reunion from now until eternity you’d have to hear someone make some ribald joke about it. Even your own friends would judge you, despite there being no love lost between them and Mandy’s clique. And you’re great at school, always have been. Your workload probably wouldn’t even change that much. A small price to pay for keeping this secret under wraps.
But then Mandy would get to lord it over you forever. And what if she comes back? What if I decide that I want her to come over more nights? What if, god forbid, I even start to date her?! There’s only so much homework to do, and the more times she and I could become… inflagrante with each other, the more she’d want. If you give a mouse a cookie…
“How did this even happen?!” You ask, exasperated. “My dad would never do this if he knew how old you are.”
“Please, I’m eighteen, just like you,” Mandy scoffs. “I may just so happen to have my older sister’s ID, and may have used it to get into a bar last night. And I may have told him that I’m 22. And a senior at State. But even if he learns who I am, it doesn’t mean we did anything illegal.”
There it is.
This past week has been so turbulent, so tumultuous that you’ve almost forgotten who I truly am. The man that gave up so much in order to be there for you. The man who was always quick to drop everything I was doing to hear about your day. The man who held you when you cried, dried your tears, then found a way to make you laugh again. These flings are new, and add a different layer to our dynamic together, but they’re don’t make the things I’ve done for years and years suddenly disappear. You had almost forgotten that. But I’d never hurt you just so I could enjoy myself. If I really knew what I was doing last night, you now feel sure that I wouldn’t have done it. And if that’s true, then Mandy isn’t the one in charge here. You are.
You can see it in Mandy’s eyes. The fear. She has figured out that I won’t see her again if I know that you have a problem with her. While I haven’t exactly had much compunction about being discreet or sensitive to your feelings about my nightly endeavors, I’d never hurt you. So this could work to your favor. You just have to play it right.
“I’d never suggest that you did anything wrong,” you say, your mind racing. “I just want to make sure that my dad is well taken care of. I try to be an attentive daughter, and it is just the two of us, after all. My dad’s happiness is very important to me, and my happiness is important to him.”
You can see the gears turning in Mandy’s mind. Does she have the upper hand, or do you? She can make your life hell by telling people about her night with me, but if she does that, then it might mean that there won’t be anymore nights.
“I think that you and I have so much in common,” Mandy says, her voice soft and gentle and sweet. You can tell that it’s an act, but even still you find yourself becoming swayed. The girl is good. “Two bright young women with our priorities in line. I know that we’ve had our share of disagreements in the past, but now I believe that our relationship is going to turn a corner.”
She reaches out and grabs your hand, giving it a squeeze. You look at her, astounded by how sincere she seems. There’s no way she could mean the things she’s saying, is there?
“Yeah?” You scoff. You haven’t forgotten about that time when she ‘accidentally’ moved your panties to the floor in the locker room, then snapped a photo of your bare vagina when you bent to pick them up. Or how she then sent that photo to every member of the football team. Those memories stick with you. “And how exactly do you figure that? You’ve got some magic wand that can erase the memories of the shit you’ve put me through?”
Mandy squeezes your hand assuringly.
“No, Catherine. I can’t erase the past or change the things that I’ve done to hurt you. I admit that I have acted cruelly and I never took your feelings into account. I’m sorry that I did that. The one thing that I can say for sure is that right now, after last night, I want nothing more than to take care of your dad and give him anything he wants.”
“And you think he wants me to do your homework? You think he wants to… to spend the night with the girl that has made his only child cry so often? I ought to go up there right now and tell him everything you’ve ever done to me. All the jokes and pranks and rude remarks that you’d surely claim were so harmless that left me in a puddle of tears. That man was the only person I had to comfort me when you spread that rumor about me and the janitor back in middle school. Do you think for a second he’d ever see you again if he knew that?”
You have to hand it to her, Mandy’s expression remains the perfect mask of friendly supplication throughout your tirade. Whether it’s her cheerleader abilities or a byproduct of her popularity, she has somehow mastered being able to take whatever you say without altering her expression. And that expression is way too gorgeous for comfort. You hate to admit it, but you can see why I picked her last night.
“Catherine,” Mandy says slowly. “You’re right. I haven’t been the friend I ought to have been to you. I’m sorry, and I’d like for us to be able to move forward together into this new dynamic. I don’t see any reason why your dad would need to know about the details of our… contentious past. We can focus on the future. For both of our benefit.”
“Yeah? How exactly do I benefit from this?” You retort.
“I don’t think you’re really considering all sides here,” she says, her grip on your hand getting a bit tighter. “I would like your help to be able to keep seeing your father. You certainly have the ability to make that happen, or to make it so that I never see him again. But if I don’t get more… let’s call them ‘dates’ with him, then I have absolutely no reason to keep our ‘date’ last night to myself, do I? We are in a Mexican standoff.”
“You don’t even know what that means.” You roll your eyes.
“Of course I do! It’s when two Mexicans stand outside a hardware store and-“
“Nope! Not it. And the whatever you were about to say was definitely going to be super culturally insen-“
“Regardless of what it means,” Mandy cuts in. “We have a lot of potential to give each other the things that we each want. I think that cooperation is a better idea than destruction, don’t you?”
It’s a tricky situation for sure. You can tell that being a manipulative bitch comes more naturally for Mandy than it does for you, which is a shame. You wish you could be more cruel. Or maybe she’s being shrewd. In either case, it’s a gear that you just can’t seem to find. And you can’t deny how much you enjoyed listening to her fucking me last night.
“So what?” You ask. “I’m supposed to talk you up to my dad now? Tell him how he should invite you over again?”
“That would be wonderful,” Mandy says, flashing you that smile that makes you feel like everything you are is good and right.
“And what’s in it for me other than you not blabbing about it to the whole school?”
Mandy pauses to think for a moment, then it’s like a lightbulb goes off inside her head. She looks at you with a very different expression now. Sultry and coy. The smile isn’t life affirming now, it’s playful. You can’t stand the fact that you really like it.
“Oh I see,” Mandy says, moving her hand out of yours and placing it on your knee. “You want to be able to sample the goods. I spend the night with your dad, and in the morning instead of eggs and bacon, I eat you instead? Is that it, Catherine?”
Her hand begins to lightly slide up your leg.
“You want your daddy’s sloppy seconds?” She asks softly, her face moving closer and closer to yours. “You want to see if I can make you feel as good as I made him feel last night?”
You bite your lip. it certainly wasn’t what you had in mind, but would that be so bad? She’s gorgeous, and her body is so voluptuous that she makes porn stars look flat. Would it really be such a terrible thing to just... maybe just this once-
Mandy pounces.
Her lips press firmly against yours, amazing you with how soft they are. You find your mouth involuntarily opening to accept her kiss, to which she responds by slipping her tongue into you. A perfect, dainty little moan escapes her throat. Her large breasts press against your own, and you can feel the heat radiating from her body. One hand goes to cup your cheek while the other grasps your waist. You allow yourself to sink into the kiss, basking in its sensuality.
You were never much of a dater, but you have kissed a few boys. You’ve even let them feel you up under your shirt a couple times. And there was that time at soccer camp, when you and your friend Gabby went off behind the equipment shed at night. She had made you feel so good.
One of your hands wraps around Mandy’s head as you run your fingers through her perfect blonde locks. The other hand reaches tentatively toward her chest. Your fingertips graze my sweatshirt, and you can feel that the breast beneath the material is firm yet supple. Mandy arches her back, pushing her body into your grip. You glance down and see just how small your hand looks compared to her large bosom. It’s a thrilling sight.
“Gah!” Mandy gasps, breaking your kiss. She presses her forehead against yours. “Take your pants off.”
“Mandy, I-“
“Catherine. Take your fucking pants off.” Mandy commands.
You scoot yourself off the stool, glancing at her nervously. You may have fooled around a bit with some folks, but this is about to be a full blown sexual encounter. Your first one. With Mandy of all people.
Your pants hit the floor.
“Panties too, Catherine,” Mandy says, spreading her legs to reveal that she isn’t wearing any. Her pussy lips are perfectly smooth and hairless, glistening with the wetness of her arousal. You can’t deny that you’re curious about how she would taste. You may be about to find out. You slip your panties off, dropping them in the pile of your pants on the floor.
“Atta girl,” Mandy says, reaching for your aching cunt. She cups it gently, her fingers rubbing against your thick mound of coarse hair.
“I know I gave you shit for it before,” she says, sliding down until her bare knees press against the cold tile floor of the kitchen. “But hairy pussy is so fucking hot.”
She grasps your thighs, pushing you back as you sit yourself on the edge of the stool. Then she buries her face between your legs.
“Oh my god!” You cry, louder than you expected.
Mandy doesn’t go slow. She isn’t timid. Her tongue laps eagerly at your clit while her fingernails gently graze your inner thighs. It’s so erotic. Your own self pleasure is great, but you never expected that getting it from someone else would feel so electric. You grab her head, grinding your hairy cunt against her face. You look down at Mandy and see her eyes sparkling, her beautiful expression making you even more aroused.
After spending so long making yourself cum last night, you half expect that your orgasm will take you a while. But after only a few moments of Mandy’s ministrations, you find yourself approaching the edge.
“Oh fuck!” You pant. Mandy senses what’s coming, and begins to furiously lick your clit. Her hand reaches up, massaging your asshole in a way you’ve never even considered doing to yourself before. While surprising, it fuels your impending orgasm, bringing you to the very brink of ecstasy. Mandy moans encouragement, her mouth full of you.
You cum harder than you’ve ever cum in your life.
The typical wave of pleasure that crashes down over you has always been significant, but this is a tidal wave. The kind that surfers wait a lifetime to be able to ride. It makes your body tremble uncontrollably, the only thing keeping you upright being the stool. The pull of your orgasm is pushing through your entire body as the wave engulfs you completely. You feel a pressure building that you’ve never felt before, and know that if you continue to hold onto it, it’ll consume you entirely.
It’s in that very moment that you squirt for the first time.
The juice blasts from your body, coating Mandy’s hair and my sweatshirt, and splattering onto the floor around you. The feeling is unlike anything you’ve ever experienced, the release more complete than any orgasm that came before. Even drenched in your wetness, Mandy doesn’t let up her relentless tonguing of your clit, not seeming to care that she’s been thoroughly coated in your spray.
Your body slowly begins to return to normal, the shaking coming back under your control. Mandy moves from your clit, kissing gently against your mound and inner thighs. Finally, you realize that you’ve been holding your breath, and have a vice grip on her hair. You slowly release each, collapsing into the stool.
“Wow,” you breathe.
“Right?!” Mandy says, crawling up to kiss you deeply. Your cum isn’t quite the taste you were expecting, but you like it. Slightly sweet and tangy, with just a bit of funk to it. It’s a flavor you could get used to.
“That was…”
“It doesn’t have to be the only time,” Mandy says, kissing you gently. You can see that her head, her face, and the top of my sweatshirt are all thoroughly soaked. “I think that the two of you should come to the football game tonight. And I think that I should ride home with you both afterwards. And I think that once your father goes to sleep, I can come over to your room and we can do it again. How does that sound?”
You nod drunkenly, incoherent thoughts swirling inside the morass of your mind.
“What if my dad doesn’t want to go?” You pant.
“Then I think you should convince him that it’s in his best interest,” Mandy explains. “Because it is. It’s in your best interest too, don’t you think?”
You nod again, your breathing slowly returning to normal.
“Great! Now you should probably get dressed so you don’t miss the bus. I’ll take this food up to your dad.”
Mandy moves to the counter and begins scooping eggs out onto a plate. You tentatively gather your panties and pants.
“I’ll miss homeroom, and probably first period too,” Mandy says. “Can you please tell the teacher?”
You nod, causing Mandy to smile and plant a kiss on you.
“Thanks, Kitty Cat,” she says.
“So… do you want me to do you now?” You ask breathlessly. You’ve never eaten pussy before, but it feels only proper to offer to reciprocate after the squirting orgasm you just received.
“Tomorrow morning, you can dive right in,” Mandy laughs. “But now I’ve got to hurry and bring this food to your dad.”
She kisses you again, swirling her tongue into your mouth as her hand casually gropes one of your breasts.
“God you’ve got great tits,” she says before grabbing the plate. “Have fun at school!”