My Best Friend's Dad

by Cassandra Dee

  “Oh unnnnh,” is my throaty moan, tilting my head back as every part of my pussy pulses. “Oui.”

  “That’s right,” he rasps behind me, “I want you to love it.”

  With that, Chris straightens behind me, running his heavy rod through my slippery folds.

  “I’m just getting it wet,” he rasps. “Oh fuck, you’re so fucking drenched for me baby.” With another throaty moan, he eases inside. I squeal a bit, unable to move. Every time he enters me, it’s like this. I feel my pussy stretch unbearably, trying to accommodate that huge fuckpole. But Chris doesn’t let up.

  “That’s right sweetheart,” he groans. “Fuck you’re so tight.”

  But after a few strokes, he pulls out all the way again, that heavy cock slippery and shiny with my juices. I turn my head to gaze at him over one slim shoulder.

  “Mr. Jones?” I mewl. “Oh god, I feel so empty right now.”

  “I know you do,” he chuckles darkly. “But sweetheart, that was just the appetizer. I was getting myself wet in your pussy because you know what I want now, don’t you? Come on, sweetheart, you can do it. Upsy-daisy.”

  And sure enough, his big fingers are massaging my back pleats now as I quiver before him. My anus contracts reflexively. Of course, Chris and I regularly have anal sex because he likes to enjoy all of my holes. But what he has planned now makes me clench deliciously with need.

  Because Mr. Jones wants me to sit down on his cock with my ass. Oh god, can I do it? I’ve taken that hot rod in my back hole before, but never have I actually lowered myself down onto a huge shaft.

  But my man’s not taking no for an answer. His fingers move forward until they’re massaging my clit, and a huge gush of fluid runs out onto his palm. He laughs throatily, while slowly bringing his hand back to stroke my anus again.

  “Upsy daisy,” he growls once more into my ear. “You can do it chickadee. Come on, just breathe and relax.”

  I close my eyes, leaning backwards against him. I’m still on my knees, faced away, except now my torso is upright as his huge cock bumps against my bottom.

  “That’s it,” he growls again, lubing up my asshole once more. “You’re gonna be fine, sweetheart.”

  And taking a deep breath, I begin. Squinching my eyes shut, I raise my hips so that his tip is lined up with my hole.

  “Ohhh,” is my breathy moan. “Oh god.”

  Because he’s pushing against my anus and at that moment, just the tip slips inside.

  “Yessss,” is his hiss in my ear. “Fuck you’re so hot and tight.”

  And angling my hips again, slowly I push down with my hips, absorbing that big cock into my asshole.

  “Unnnh,” is my helpless moan as I’m filled up so good. “Oh god, oh god.”

  But Mr. Jones doesn’t let up. His fingers stroke my pussy, enhancing my pleasure as that huge baseball bat disappears into my bottom inch by inch.

  “Yes, my little slut,” he rasps. “Just like that. Take it all.”

  And with one last push downwards, it happens. He’s buried balls deep in my anus, the ten inch club squeezed tight in my behind. I moan again, a blend of ecstasy and agony.

  “Oh god, you’re so big,” is my helpless mewl. “Mon Dieu, I can’t move.”

  “Don’t panic,” he whispers into my ear. “Daddy will take care of it all.”

  And with that, Chris strokes my bud again, causing electric tremors to run straight from my clit to the rest of my body. It feels so good and I feel my anus relaxing as he touches me intimately.

  “Oh,” is my helpless moan again. But now, Chris is moving behind me. One hand grips my waist, and he urges me upwards, encouraging me to do the slide.

  “That’s right,” is his harsh gasp. “Come on baby. I want to see you do the dirty dance on my fat pole.”

  I have to obey. After all, this is my man. This is the alpha male that I adore more than life itself, and when he says jump, I ask how high? So slowly, I lift my bottom an inch or two, and then drop it down again, embedding the white peach onto that huge shaft. He grunts with pleasure behind me, that big palm gripping me tight.

  “Again,” he commands.

  Like a pet kitten, I obey. This time, I squat so that I have better leverage, and raise my body halfway up his pole before plunging down once more, taking that giant club into my anus.

  “Oh god!” is my desperate cry. “Oh god, oh god!”

  But Chris is encouraging. Now he’s tweaking my nipples as I slide up and down his pole.

  “Your bottom is so tight,” he rasps hoarsely. “Come on, butt-fuck my pole, pretty baby. You want it so bad.”

  And it’s true, I do. I’ll give anything to this man, including my heart, my soul and my life. So with renewed frenzy, I go at it again. I raise myself up and down his fat cock again and again, fucking it with my bottom as it pulses and throbs in my dark channel. Juices drip from my pussy and I can hear my breasts slap together as I bounce up and down, the huge Double Ds doing their own applause.

  “Yes, yes, yes,” I moan, nearing the edge. “Oh god, YES!”

  And Chris comes at the same time. His penis stiffens in me, growing to Titanic proportions, and then it jerks and bursts inside my dark star.

  “Fuck!” he roars, a lion in heat. “Shit!”

  And with that, huge splashes of cum fill my behind. The hot seed squirts into me again and again as my pussy and anus clamp and clench, drawing it in even deeper.

  “Yes!” I scream, still bouncing on his pole with my butt. “Yes!”

  And with that, we collapse in a mess of sticky sperm and anal sweat. Because this is what I want. I came to New York to improve my English and to experience the American way of life. But instead, I’ve learned a different lesson that’s so much better … and I never want to leave.

  Chapter Eleven

  Chris

  Fuck. What have I done? I’ve completely corrupted the girl of my dreams. Marie arrived at my house, innocent and pure with a charming French accent and a sweet smile, and now she’s bouncing up and down my dick as her anus clenches and squeezes, milking my balls until they’re dry.

  Yet the loving is so good with the sensuous brunette because it’s not just her body that gets to me – it’s everything about her. The way she smiles at me first thing when she wakes up. The way she kisses me tenderly, and how she says my name musically. Marie has me wrapped around her fingers, and I’ll die a happy man so long as we’re together.

  Simple enough, right? Hardly. She’s an exchange student staying in my apartment for crying out loud. Not only would the Board of Education immediately remove the brunette from my care, but her parents would probably hire a hit man to take me out. Not to mention my own daughter. Jenny would probably pass out from the shock, before disowning me as her dad forever.

  And I can’t have that because Jenny’s my flesh and blood. She’s the only thing I have on this earth that matters, aside from my sweet Marie. So I’m not sure how this is going to work out. After all, it’s an impossible choice: my lover or my daughter?

  But for this weekend, I’ve decided to put it all out of my head because it’s so hard to have time alone with my beautiful exchange student. We’re usually walking on needles, afraid that someone will see us, or that we’ll be discovered by some hapless parent from Bradford. So I’ve decided to enjoy these forty eight hours with no regrets.

  And Marie hasn’t let me down. We ordered room service after our frenetic lovemaking, and she’s eating pancakes drowned in maple syrup.

  “What, they don’t have pancakes in France?” I tease.

  She smiles at me before taking the whipped cream and spraying a big pyramid of frothy white onto her pancakes.

  “They do,” she says lightly. “But these are better. I like the blueberries in them.”

  “Oh you do,” I say again. “You want a bite of my muffin then?”

  She scrunches her nose.

  “Now those, I hate,” she grouses. “Muffins in America are so hard and dense
, they’re more like scones. I like mine airy and crumbly. But maybe I’ll have a bite because I do like blueberries,” she says playfully.

  I watch approvingly as she takes a big bite of my muffin, chewing with her eyes closed.

  “Mmmm, blueberries,” she moans. “They’re so good.”

  But then those caramel eyes catch mine again.

  “Are you sure you don’t mind that I’m eating your whole breakfast?” she quips. “You won’t have anything after I’m done.”

  I merely laugh heartily.

  “Sweetheart, I’ve dated so many women that ate nothing, and you’re a breath of fresh air by comparison. I love how you enjoy food, and I love how it looks on you too,” I say, shooting her naked figure an approving glance. “Because honey, I hate the stick thin twigs walking around Manhattan. They’re so spindly that they look like praying mantises, don’t you think? I feel like they’re giant insects with those long, thin arms and scrawny legs.”

  Marie laughs merrily.

  “Well, it is au courant to be thin,” she says. “But I’m glad you like a fuller look because I’m certainly not a size two.”

  “No, you’re not,” I say, gazing at her Double D breasts appreciatively. “And I don’t want you to be. In fact, I think you should put on some weight, so there’s even more to love.”

  She smirks at me.

  “I will,” is her promise. “Especially if you keep feeding me like this.”

  With that, I growl and pull her form onto my lap. Oh shit, she’s so soft and curvy everywhere, that creamy flesh spilling from my hands. But she winces a bit at the sudden movement and I chuckle, burying my face against that delicate neck.

  “Are you sore, sweetheart?” is my growl. “Was our last session too much for you?”

  She nods, a blush coming over her cheeks.

  “I am a little sore,” she says, “My bottom does feel a little stretched, but I’ll get used to it.”

  Of course, her words just make my dick go rock hard because our anal session was hot as fuck. But I force my cock to obey. She needs time to recover, and I’m a total asshole if I ravish her again right here, right now.

  So I focus on doing the right thing.

  “Okay sweetheart,” is my growl. “So what do you want to do today?”

  She giggles a bit, throwing her arms around my neck.

  “Stay in the suite and make love to you, Mr. Jones,” she says innocently with a wide-eyed Bambi look. “After all, that’s why we’re here, right?”

  “It is,” I growl against her delicate throat. “But I want to know more about you, sweetheart. For example, it’s crazy to me that you’ve never had anal sex. Are French guys not into that?”

  She blushes.

  “I thought we wouldn’t talk about our exes. Isn’t that against the rules?”

  I raise an eyebrow at her.

  “You don’t have to get into any specific ex,” I say reasonably. “It’s just that you’re so gorgeous sweetheart. How is it possible that you still had your ass cherry upon arriving in New York?”

  Marie sighs a bit, the look in her eye going faraway.

  “Well, you know Papa and Maman are very protective,” she says slowly. “They never really liked it when I went out with boys. And French people aren’t like here,” she added. “We don’t do so much one-on-one dating. It’s more group outings, and then we might pair off discreetly.”

  I raise an eyebrow at her.

  “So you’ve never been on a date?” I ask dumbfounded.

  She shakes her head.

  “No, I have. But it’s different from the way it is here. In fact, I had a boyfriend, but relationships are different in France too. He’s someone that I saw occasionally, and we said we loved each other, but you know how it is. I was only seventeen, and Didier was sixteen.”

  I almost guffaw.

  “What did you say his name was?”

  Marie frowns.

  “Didier. Pronounced Dee-dee-ah.”

  This time, I can’t help but chuckle.

  “I’m sorry, sweetheart. I’m not used to French names. If you had told me his name was Pepe Le Pew, I would have been just as amused.”

  “Oh you,” she swats my arm lightly with a smile. “I know Didier doesn’t sound very masculine, but when you’re seventeen, none of that matters. All it takes is a crepe and a smile, and then … well, you know,” she blushes.

  “But still,” I press. “He didn’t want back end fun with you?”

  Marie grows even more pink.

  “No, Didier loved me, but he also thought that anal sex was … how do you say it? Répugnant. Disgusting.”

  That puts me over the edge. I kiss her deeply, making sure she knows how desirable she is.

  “Nothing about you is disgusting sweetheart. I love testing your holes, and you know what? It’s good you gave me your ass cherry because this way, I know no man has ever been in there except me.”

  She flushes bright red, her big breasts heaving deliciously as we break off our kiss. But then the girl turns a curious look to me.

  “Since you’re quizzing me on my romantic past, I’d say that all’s fair,” she says archly. “So tell me Mr. Jones. Since your divorce, how many women have you dated?”

  I shoot a look right back at her.

  “Dated or slept with?”

  I see I’ve taken Marie unawares. She gulps, cheeks going pink once again. But then she takes a deep breath.

  “Both,” is her whispered reply, and I begin mentally counting.

  “Well, sweetheart, one is really easy to answer. Dated, in the sense of a relationship? Probably zero. I’ve taken some women out, but none of them were what I was looking for. They were rapacious and greedy. They wanted to get their hands on my money and my lifestyle more than anything else.”

  “Really?” asks Marie while cocking her head in the cutest manner. A brown curl falls over her cheek and I brush it away. “Not one woman in ten years?”

  I ponder the question, but come back to my original answer.

  “Yeah. It sounds weird, but it’s true. I haven’t been in love for more than a decade. I probably haven’t even dated someone for more than three months straight, come to think of it,” is my wry reply.

  Marie is silent for a moment, but then she raises a hand to my cheek.

  “Oh Chris,” she breathes. “I’m so sorry. You haven’t felt love in so long! It’s a shame, a wonderful man like you.”

  Again, this girl takes my breath away. I pull her close, growling into her ear.

  “But I have you now,” is my raspy whisper. “And I’m making up for it.”

  Marie giggles but then pulls away once more. “How about the second part of the question?” she asks. “How many women have you slept with since your divorce?”

  This question is both harder and easier than the previous one. It’s definitely not zero, but if I’m being honest, my number is really high. I think about lying, but what’s the point? I’m a forty-five year old red-blooded male, and I’ve always been a magnet for women. Plus, there was no reason to hold back. Why not take what was freely offered, and enjoy myself?

  “Probably around a hundred,” I say smoothly.

  But Marie knows me too well.

  “Over ten years?” she asks archly, one eyebrow raised.

  “Okay, two hundred,” I amend. “You got me.”

  She pauses for a moment.

  “Hmm, that works out to about twenty women a year.”

  I pause for a moment, ashamed.

  “It is,” is my reply. “It’s a lot sweetheart, but I can’t say that any of the women walked away unsatisfied. I always made sure they were compensated for their time, even if I no longer wanted to see them.”

  “Compensated?” she asks quizzically.

  Now, the moment of truth has come.

  “Compensated,” I agree, a little more forcefully than necessary. “I generally award my bed mates with a piece of jewelry when they’re given the goodbye.
It just makes it easier, if you get what I mean.”

  Marie nods slowly, but there’s no judgment in her eyes.

  “Yes, I get it,” she says. “You’re a wealthy man looking to avoid uncomfortable situations, so you provide something to help these ladies move onto the next phase of their life.”

  “That’s right,” I say, choosing my words carefully. “Just think of it as a little something to grease the wheels of their transition. You know how employers offer career services to laid-off employees? Well, this is a version of that. I’m offering transitional services to women who no longer pique my interest. It’s an investment, and I find that it pays off.”

  Marie is silent for a moment but then she turns playful eyes to me.

  “So I guess I shouldn’t wish for any jewelry, should I?” she teases. “Because jewelry coming from you means one thing only – au revoir.”

  I hold her tight to me, the air in my lungs disappearing. I don’t know what to say because even though she’s speaking in jest, the thoughts in my head are anything but lighthearted. Instead, this woman has wormed her way into my heart. I love her, and although we don’t have a long-term plan as of yet, I’ve been thinking about keeping her with me. About putting a ring on her finger, and a baby in her belly. Is it crazy? I have to say yes. After all, I’m double her age, and our relationship is absolutely taboo.

  But this isn’t the time to discuss it. After all, we haven’t figured out how we’re going to be together. And it’s not even clear to me that Marie wants to be with me forever. After all, she’s a beautiful teen girl, with the world at her fingertips. She’s in New York to explore, and to have fun. Who am I to hold her back? Who am I to demand that she give herself to me, forever and always? She deserves a chance to fly free and high, attracting men by the dozens with her beauty and grace.

  So slipping my arms around her waist once more, I kiss her tenderly. I want this woman. I want her pregnant and curvy, bound to me before God and man. I want a minister to pronounce us man and wife. But it’s too soon. Marie deserves to see the world … and as much as I crave and desire the beautiful teen, I can’t be the man to hold her back from this dazzling future.