Daddy In Charge

by Autumn Collins

  “A schoolgirl uniform,” I admitted. “Like Britney Spears in that old music video she made.”

  “You like her songs?” he sounded astonished.

  I shook my head. “No…” I flirted and smiled with secret significance. “But every girl has a fantasy…”

  Chapter 21

  Mitch

  A man cannot go through his life maintaining the same attitudes and aspirations that he first develops in the formative years of adulthood.

  I was a different person to the one I’d been in my early twenties; experience – and my experiences – had changed me. The brash bravado and confidence that makes a young man feel ten feet tall and bulletproof is gradually shed like stripped away armor, and over the course of a man’s life weaknesses and vulnerabilities are exposed.

  That was my story; I had accumulated experiences, setbacks and triumphs that altered my path and my perceptions. I was almost unrecognizable from the young guy who thought the world was his for the taking.

  Now, at forty-eight, I looked in the mirror and saw someone older and wiser; someone whose path through life had been deviated by emotional detours. Marriage had changed me; walking the same path as my deceased wife had taken my own life’s course on a tangent, and in the process of that journey I had been exposed to the kind of tender emotions that leave unseen bruises on your conscience.

  In my work too, I had been left scarred by the consequences of the decisions I had made, and the fallout on everyone my choices had affected. In essence, the hard jagged stone that had been Mitch Stuyversant as a young man had been gradually eroded by experience and sandblasted by emotions so that now the mirror’s reflection of me showed the same physical features but with blurred and softened edges.

  My conscience troubled me.

  I stood quietly in the bathroom and scrutinized my face as I shaved. It was Saturday morning. In just a few hours Connie would come through my front door and I would once again stand at a crossroads in the course of my life’s journey.

  Beyond the obvious age difference, I was wrestling with the implications of a poor decision.

  If Connie and I were to have sex, our lives would be irrevocably altered. Mine less than hers, for she was young and still discovering who she was. Did I have the right to influence her life in such a profound manner?

  ‘Buying’ her virginity had given me some kind of propriety in terms of a transaction, but what we were talking about was not like any other purchase. This was the most intimate gift a young woman could give. It shouldn’t be bought – not for any price.

  It should be given, freely and lovingly.

  I was violating the sanctity of her right to choose, and the weight of it was a burden that left me haggard and troubled.

  I spent the day listlessly; drifting through the house without intent or direction. My mind was a constant turmoil of doubts as my emotions lifted with the desire for her firm beautiful body one minute… only then to plummet to the depths of despair as the guilt came upon me in the next.

  When the doorbell rang suddenly at seven o’clock, I almost didn’t answer it. I felt like I was on the precipice of something momentous. The doorbell rang again, and I went to answer it with every question in my mind still unresolved and misgivings hanging over my head like storm clouds.

  Connie stood on the front step, her face alight with brimming enthusiasm and nervousness. Her eyes sparkled and there was fresh warm color on her cheeks. Her hair caught the glow of the streetlights and shimmered blonde across the collar of a dark trench coat she was wrapped within.

  I held the door open. Her lips were parted, and she was breathing in quick anxious gasps of cold foggy air. She bounced up the last step and into the warmth of the foyer, seeming to spark with the electricity of her exhilaration. In the silence of the house, her heels clacked loudly on the polished timber boards.

  “Can I take your coat?”

  Connie shook her head. “You better not,” she said – and I could see some reflection of my own turmoil in her eyes. It gave me some relief; we were both having second thoughts.

  “It’s quite warm…” I frowned a little. “There’s a fire in the living room.”

  Connie’s smile was nervous and unsure. “I’m wearing the schoolgirl outfit you wanted me to wear underneath,” she whispered in a tone that sounded a little like a warning. My heart was beating wildly with my own apprehension, and I sensed the warm inviting smile on my lips begin to quiver into something uncertain.

  I understood. I looked into her eyes, sympathetically. “And you’re having second thoughts about this whole thing, aren’t you? You’re not so sure any more that you and I having sex is the best way for you to lose your virginity.”

  Connie flinched, and slowly started to shake her head, never once taking her eyes from mine. “No, Mitch,” she said. New resolve came into her voice. “I’m not having second thoughts. I know what’s going to happen tonight – and I want it.”

  She started slowly to unbutton the front of the trench coat, her eyes still fixed on mine, still talking. “I just thought you might need a moment to adjust before…”

  I stilled her hand on the buttons. “I do,” I cut her off. Connie froze. Her eyes searched my face and I turned away or a moment, my head bowed in furious thought. When I turned back, Connie was waiting. She had unfastened the top three buttons on the coat and through the flaps of the gaping fabric I could see that underneath she was wearing some kind of white blouse. The flesh across her throat and down to the shadow of her cleavage was pale and perfect.

  “Are you sure you want this to happen?” Beyond her stated need to pay her debt, I simply could not see any other reason for her to want to have sex with me. There were millions of younger, more suitable guys of her own age. Standing beside her I felt decidedly old.

  “Yes, I’m sure,” Connie said. She took my hand impulsively and placed it beneath the fold of the coat, my palm pressed against her heart. Through the thin fabric of her blouse I could feel the sizzle of her flesh and the furious tempo of her heart. “That’s not fear, or dread,” Connie slanted her eyes with significance.

  I tried one last time. “If we do…” I broke off to give my next words more emphasis, “I will use you, Connie. I will break your heart… and I will never apologize. I give you this last chance to save yourself for someone you love.”

  Connie’s eyes glittered with the sparkling dew of tears. They welled in the lower lids of her eyes and her lipsticked smile quivered.

  “It’s too late,” she said. “I know what kind of man you are, Mitch… and I already love you.”

  Without another word, Connie undid the rest of the buttons and then peeled the trench coat off her shoulders. She stood, dressed in the uniform of a schoolgirl, and I saw the fear of rejection and the little furrow of worry across her brow as she waited for my reaction.

  The blouse was unbuttoned; the tails of the white fabric merely knotted about her midriff so that the cleavage line was all the way down to her navel. I saw the pale swell of her breasts. She had dressed to provocatively display her body and in her excitement her nipples had hardened and pushed through the thin material. The skirt she wore was powder blue and pleated. It flared across the tops of her thighs and cinched tight at her narrow waist. Her legs were very long and tanned to the color of honey.

  Connie’s cheeks were flushed rosy, but her eyes were grave and apprehensive. She had her head lowered a little, exposed and vulnerable. Then she licked her lips and lifted her face to stare into my eyes, steeling herself with a courageous thrust of her chin.

  I reached out and stroked the bare flesh of her arm, from the point of her elbow all the way up to her shoulder. Connie closed her eyes and shuddered. My fingers glided over her breast, brushing the lump of her nipple through her blouse and she stood without flinching. My hand slipped inside the material and closed around the warm mound of firm flesh. Connie swayed a little and I felt my cock harden with a ferocious clench of arousal that caught me unpre
pared.

  Connie’s lips parted and her eyes slitted open, her expression almost woozy and dream-like. I leaned slowly towards her, my fingers busy and teasing at her nipple, my touch and movements gentle and deliberate to give her every opportunity to pull back.

  But she did not move. She saw me closing in to kiss her and she lifted her face a little more to meet my lips. I felt the sudden rush of her relief, the tension seeping from her body to be replaced by a sense of release and wanting.

  “Yes!” she hissed in a husky breath. Her arms entangled themselves about my neck and her lips met mine.

  I kneaded her back with my fingers. Her mouth was wide open to my lips and her tongue flickered, sinuous and twisting. She leaned back slightly within my embrace to push her pelvis against the thrust of my cock, and then our mouths slid apart and she threw back her head to offer me the pale slender flesh of her throat.

  My mouth hunted down her slender neck and she gasped in sudden delicious shock. I felt her fingers seize into claws at my back. She smelled of musk and womanly arousal, tinged with the scent of some simple perfume. I kissed across her chest and then let my lips wander between the dark shadowed cleft of her breasts.

  Connie’s fumbling frantic hands unknotted her blouse and she tore it from her shoulders. Her unfettered breasts were firm and rounded. In the dim light from the hallway her flesh seemed carved from gold. I drew her nipple into my mouth, my lips plucking and teasing her. A strangled sob of pleasure was torn from her lips.

  I dropped to my knees before her and my hands deftly found the zipper that held her skirt. As I drew it down, the scant fabric gaped from her waist and then slid down to her ankles. She was wearing sheer white panties, very brief, the lace cut high on her hips.

  I was mesmerized by the plump mound of her sex beneath the gossamer film, entranced by the promise of the deep triangle that was split by a fold of material rucked up into the cleft. Her flesh beneath the silk was smooth and I pressed my lips to the wedge of her body and inhaled the pure essence of her arousal. I felt Connie’s fingers fist into the hair at the back of my head to hold me against her. I sensed her body sway as though to push us more firmly together. I filled my lungs with the perfume of her and felt the taste of her moist on my tongue through the material.

  Connie shuddered and her knees buckled. She had edged her feet wider and now she stood in just her heels and panties with her legs splayed wide apart while I knelt before her like a worshipper. Her body seemed to sway like a tree in the grips of a gale. The heat of her sex melted on my lips until the last shreds of my restraint were torn away.

  I got to my feet and hooked my finger possessively inside the lace strap of her panties. Connie’s eyes were deep and solemn and soulful.

  “Follow me to the bedroom,” I said, my voice thick and almost unrecognizable in my own ears. “Leave your clothes were they have fallen. You won’t need them again tonight.”

  Connie

  I drifted up the staircase in a daze of lust and aching desire. My feet seemed to not touch the floor. I swear I was floating. I went with Mitch’s finger snared inside my panties, like I was his great prize being led on a short leash, and the subtle submission of it only aroused me even more.

  The bedroom was big, the bed vast. The room smelled fresh with just the lingering hint of aftershave and the furniture was dark and antique. Behind and above the bedhead was a window, the curtains tied back to reveal the twinkling stars and the ghostly glow of moonlight. There was a lamp on a bedside table. It was the only light on in the room. Over my shoulder I saw a door that led to an adjoining bathroom. Mitch left me standing at the foot of the bed. He folded down the covers. I turned in a slow circle and saw my reflection in an oval mirror hung facing the bed.

  I barely recognized myself. Yes, the body was mine, and I was familiar with my shape, my figure. But the face was like that of a stranger, her eyes shining and excited, her hair tousled, the expression etched in her features one of raw unmistakable lust.

  It wasn’t an expression that a girl could authentically mimic, I realized.

  It was the look that only a woman knows.

  I felt a slow caress down my spine and a gasp choked in my throat. Mitch had come close behind me and I stared at us in the mirror as his hands wrapped around me, cupping my breasts in his palms. His eyes were on me and I watched him lower his mouth to my neck, feeling a voyeuristic disconnection, like I was secretly staring at two other people.

  “You will give yourself to me,” I felt the tickle of his breath in my ear. His voice was firm; it was a statement that demanded my obedience. Now that the last of his hesitation had been overcome, he had reverted instinctively to the powerful, commanding man I knew… and wanted.

  “Yes,” I whispered. I saw my lips move in the mirror and saw the absoluteness of my own desire in the solemn way I had consented. “I’ll give you everything you want… because I want it too.”

  Mitch inhaled a sharp breath of arousal and desire. I felt his lips slide along my neck and I swayed back against him. The last thing I saw of our reflection was my body turning within the embrace of his arms and the swish of my hair across my shoulders.

  “Tell me what you want.” Our faces were close, mine lifted to his, sharing the same breaths; the same sexually charged air.

  Mitch’s expression was grave, revealing his own emotional detachment. There was a veil draped across his eyes as though to hold back his emotions. For him this moment was about lust and desire… and power.

  The thought thrilled me, and somehow freed me too from the surging confusion of my own emotions. I let everything I was feeling dissolve, cast aside in a single long breath, and surrendered myself to the vague instincts and urges of my body.

  I felt Mitch’s hands slide up from my breasts until they were pressing gently on my shoulders. I reacted. I lowered myself to my knees before him and ran my hands across the bulge in his pants. I could feel the rock-hard length of him, straining within the confines of his trousers. I worked the buckle of his belt with deft fingers and then drew down the zipper. Mitch clawed his hands into the tangle of my hair and I felt his whole body tense. His legs were braced, his hips thrust forward and his back arched. I took his hard cock in both my hands and fluttered my fingers along the shaft.

  “Do you like that?” I made my eyes wide and innocent, my voice soft and naïve as I looked up into his face.

  “Yes!” Mitch hissed.

  One of my hands slipped down to cup the heavy weight of his balls and I blew warm breath across the swollen crown of his engorged cock.

  “Am I your good little girl?”

  “Yes!” Mitch’s voice rasped with a spark of intensity.

  I opened my mouth and engulfed the first few inches of his shaft, clamping my lips tight and feeling the sizzling heat of him. My tongue swished around the swollen head, hot and moist and hungry. I closed my eyes and concentrated on the sensations; the gripping pulse of him as his body clenched and his cock leaped like a living thing between the trap of my lips. I could hear soft mewling sounds of satisfaction and with a small startle I realized the noise came from me as I savored the pleasure of feeling Mitch sliding across my lips.

  I felt a wave of giddy recklessness wash over me. It was something I’d never experienced before – a phenomenon like being drunk or maybe drugged. Every sensation seemed to be magnified. The ridges along the length of Mitch’s cock seemed enhanced, and the sounds I made as my lips drew him deeper into my mouth seemed amplified.

  I bobbed my head up and down, responding to some primal rhythm I didn’t understand, but instead sensed. At the same time I felt my body rocking to the same instinctive beat. It was as if all of me was consumed by the need to give pleasure, and without consciously being aware of what I was doing, my free hand slid down inside my panties, drawn to touch myself. I felt the flood of my own wet warmth sticky on my fingers. My clit ached and throbbed.

  Mitch was breathing deeply and I paid attention to his sharp hisses of
lust as my mouth played along the length of his cock like it was a musical instrument. Slowly I began to understand those things and movements that enticed the fiercest responses, and gauged my success by the delightful hardness of him.

  At last I felt the claws of his hands tighten. He seized my head like it was clamped in a vice. I let my mouth hang slack. My lips felt puffed and swollen, like soft pink pillows.

  “Stay still,” Mitch grunted, then thrust forward with his hips. His cock sawed across my tongue and I felt my mouth fill with saliva. He withdrew himself until just the tip of him stayed clamped between my lips. I sucked in a lungful of breath and then he drove himself deep into my mouth again. His cock was large and thick. I felt an instant of reflexive resistance… and then I forced my body to go soft and pliant. He was fucking my mouth, using long and deliberate thrusts that weren’t designed to draw him to the brink of his orgasm, but rather for the thrill of dominating and using me. I felt my eyes watering and gulped in more air.

  “Yes…” Mitch’s voice was coarsened and his eyes blazed with a fierce passion. His mouth was wrenched into a grimace, the muscles across his chest and along his forearms flexed. In response, I knelt limp as a ragdoll – overwhelmed by the command and presence of him.

  His cock slid from between my lips as he withdrew again and I was seized by a lustful instant of abandon, still swooning with the intoxication of my own arousal.

  “Do you like fucking your little girl’s mouth… Daddy?” I whispered.

  Mitch recoiled. The words, once uttered, seemed scandalously sinful. His expression changed and his gaze flickered. The dazed glassy fog of his rising excitement suddenly vanished as his eyes slammed into sharp focus.

  He pressed his lips together into a thin bloodless line and his eyebrows furrowed. He cast me a narrowed scrutinizing stare like he had never before seen me so clearly.