My Best Friend's Dad

My eyes fluttered open. I knew what time it was without looking at the digital clock that illuminated the area around the nightstand in a reddish glow. Instead there was a different glow, and a muffled sound that came with it, beneath the door to my room that told me it it was around 1 a.m.; the TV. That was when Becky's dad often settled down for some late night — or I guess early morning, depending on how you look at it — television watching. I wondered why he did it: did demons keep him from sleeping? Was he unable to quiet all the thoughts that must come with running your own — successful — business? Did he get in a fight with Margaret? Did she roll over when he ran a hand suggestively up her thigh, hinting that he wanted to do more than just sleep?

I, for one, could never understand why he was with her. She was nothing like Becky's mom, who'd passed away when we were in middle school. Margaret — never Maggie — was frost to Sylvia's warmth and all ostentation to Sylvia's class. Maybe Rick just didn't want to be alone. Maybe he liked the "arm candy" status she gave him. Sure, she was good looking, but she was so thin not even the best Victoria's Secret had to offer could give her cleavage, and so neurotic Ambien and wine were her best friends. There was also a 99 percent chance she was only with him for his money. And wasn't a shitty personality supposed to dampen one's appearance? Margaret put the "B" in bitch, and only respect for her dad kept Becky from telling that B exactly how she felt — Lord knows it wasn't out of respect for her.

As for me, I sure as hell didn't have any respect for her either. I'd had nothing but respect for Sylvia, and only fond memories to think back on. But with her no longer here, and Maggie instead... well... let's just say thoughts about Rick that I probably would have squelched were instead allowed free reign.

In fact, there were times, mostly when I was spending the night, that those thoughts completely took over. Outside of Becky's house the usual teenage distractions meant there wasn't much time for thinking about Rick. Distractions like friends, shopping, school, parties, boys... although, when it came to the latter, sometimes thoughts of Rick — older, mature, experienced, god damned sexy — would flit through my mind. Like when I was on my knees with my mouth around my boyfriend's cock, who I knew wasn't likely to return the favor once he finished; when the boyfriend before him was groping my size C tits and treated them like stress balls. Yeah, I couldn't deny wondering at those times how different it might be with Rick.

He made the switch from "my best friend's dad" to sexual fantasy when I was a freshman. I got up in the middle of the night to use the bathroom, and headed in only to find the room filled with steam and Rick standing there post shower, nothing but a towel wrapped around his waist.

"Oh! Sorry." I'd squeaked out sleepily. I'd started to turn to leave, but he grabbed me by the wrist to halt me, his hand still warm and damp.

"Hey, no worries Tay. I'm done here — sorry about that. I should have locked the door, but it's so late I didn't even think about it."

I made some sort of noise I hoped would convey "it's cool, no problem," but I couldn't be sure I made any sound at all. He'd left then, all nonchalant, like the encounter hadn't been a big deal — I mean, it really wasn't — but to me, the damage had been done.

I sat down on the toilet to pee, feeling dizzy, inhaling the scent of his body wash and idly noticing my nipples were hard through my tank top — had he noticed that? Did that happen while he was still in here or after? He was so hot! The "dad" title seemed ill-fitting now that I'd seen him without his shirt on; he was bigger than the guys at school — more solid — and definitely lacked that stereotypical "dad bod." His slightly toned biceps and firm abs caused an automatic twinge between my legs, and I couldn't be certain I hadn't started blushing at the sight of him. There was no way I'd be able to unsee what I'd seen, and my mind almost instantly started to wander, and wonder what else there was to be found just a bit lower, behind that snowy white towel he'd hung low on his hips.

My mind had been wandering and wondering ever since. Naturally, nothing ever happened; I was 14 and hadn't done more than kiss a guy at the time, but that didn't stop me from thinking about him when I'd sleep over Becky's, and the idea of him so close, especially at nighttime, drove me wild — did he sleep naked? It wasn't long before thoughts of him led to me exploring my own body while I did so, and I gave myself my first orgasm by playing with my clit and thinking about my best friend's dad. And from getting to know my body, I started appreciating my body, and from appreciating my body I gained a kind of confidence when it came to the guys at my school... I wanted more of the feelings I'd given myself with my fingers. And yet, I had an inkling the way the high school boys made me feel and the way Rick probably made women feel was drastically different. God, I wanted him.

For years, sleepovers meant Becky and I stayed in her room together, but a couple years ago she asked if I wanted to sleep in the guest room downstairs instead, saying I'd have much more room in the queen sized bed, and privacy with the attached bathroom. I said yes, of course, even though the idea of never running into her dad in the bathroom again made me sad. I couldn't say no though, especially since I didn't think it was a coincidence this happened shortly after I told her — shy, sweet Becky — about how you could pleasure yourself by using your fingertips to rub your clit, figuring out the perfect speed and pressure, and by pushing your fingers in and out of your pussy, mirroring how a guy's hard cock — ideally much larger — would feel. Girl needed her privacy.

Besides, it was true I had more space in the guest room, and when I wanted to think about Rick and touch myself, I didn't have to do it as secretly as I did when I was in the same room as his daughter, making sure to move as little as possible as my fingers drifted down my body. So I guess I needed some privacy, too.

My sadness at not having the chance to venture out and bump into Rick in the bathroom again was also quickly alleviated when I learned about his late night TV habit. Despite my guesses, I really couldn't be sure why he did it, but I didn't really care. All I knew was: A. He was closer to me, and B. If he was in the living room watching TV he wasn't upstairs with that bitchy twig Margaret. I was fine with both things. What I wasn't fine with, at least not any longer, was subpar sex with my high school boyfriend or thinking about Rick. That is, I was no longer ok with ONLY thinking about Rick. I wanted him. Bad. And I intended to have him.

If I'd thought for a second he had legit feelings for Margaret, I wouldn't have slipped my feet out of bed and onto the cool wood floor. If Sylvia had been alive, I was certain my thoughts wouldn't have ever gotten to this point, never mind my intentions. But neither of those things were true. What was true, on the other hand, was that I'd be graduating high school in a few months and heading off to college a few months after that; my sleepovers at Becky's were limited. What else was true was that I'd turned 18 just a couple of weeks prior, and the one birthday/graduation gift I wanted could be found right outside my bedroom door.

I gave the clock a glance, not surprised to see it was exactly the time I'd thought it was — just after 1 a.m. — then headed over to the door and opened it. Instantly, a rush of cool air hit me and my nipples rose to attention beneath my tight white tee. The bedrooms each had their own thermostats so they could be kept nice and snuggly, but the main rooms in their huge house were always kept a bit cooler. I couldn't say I minded. I stepped out into the living room, and sucked in a sharp inhalation of breath a moment later. The guest room was located right off the living room, so as soon as I opened the door I could clearly see the TV; Rick wasn't watching late night reruns of "The Golden Girls" — duh — he was watching porn. I stared transfixed for a minute at the man laying on his back who was having his dick sucked by one girl, while simultaneously licking the pussy of another who had straddled his face. I felt a surge of confidence as I noted the two girls weren't quite as skinny as Margaret, but a little more curvy -- like me -- with tits bigger than bee stings. So that's what he really liked.

My eyes wandered to where Rick sat on the sofa. He didn't notice I'd come out of the bedroom, and although the sofa back kept me from seeing much, I could tell he was jerking on his cock. My pussy throbbed in response. I wanted to keep watching, but I also wanted to join. Not wanting to embarrass him, I backed up into the bedroom, re-closed the door and then repeated my exit, making sure to rattle the handle a little before opening it again. It worked, and I heard the sounds on the TV change as he switched the channel. I walked out, and he looked over his shoulder at me.

"Taylor... hey."

I responded with half a wave, then headed around the sofa and took a seat at the end opposite him — all the better for viewing. I took note of the hand towel on the table next to him, beside his beer, and tried hard not so smile knowingly at what it was for. The fact that'd I'd seen him doing what I did was like a delicious secret, and I decided to play off it for a minute.

"Can't sleep?" I asked, then let my gaze slowly wander down his bare chest to where his dick was pressing against his plaid pajama bottoms.

He switched positions, bending his left leg up and placing his foot on the sofa to hide his blatant erection.

"No," he responded hoarsely as he tried — and failed — to keep his gaze off the hard nipples I knew he could see through my shirt. "You?"

I shook my head, then decided I was done to just cut to the chase. "Turn it back on."

"What?"

"The porn. I want to watch it."

"Tay..."

"I'm not a kid, Rick. In case you forgot, I'm 18 now. I know all about porn." Which was true, although I hadn't yet gotten into watching it... perhaps that was about to change.

He swallowed, and I watched his Adam's apple bob down then back up with the motion. "But what about --"

"I'm gonna go ahead and guess Margaret's passed out with the help of some kind of drug, and I've been having sleepovers with Becky since we were in elementary school; I know how deep she sleeps. Oh, and in case you didn't know, she's also taken to sleeping with headphones in because she's petrified of hearing you two having sex."

He didn't know what else to say.

"Please?" I asked softly, looking at him from beneath slightly lowered lashes I hoped gave me some kind of sultry look. "It'll help me relax so I can sleep."

He seemed to understand that, just like I knew he would — he probably did it for the same reason — and, clearly unsure what else to do, he clicked the TV back to the scene I'd been watching unfold before. My heart was hammering in my chest and my pussy continued to pulse. I couldn't believe I was sitting here, watching porn with Rick.

I watched the trio on TV a moment longer, and as the man reached up to toy with the tits on the girl whose juices he was lapping up, almost involuntarily my hands made their way up my shirt and I started playing with my own in mirror; gently squeezing, kneading, rubbing my nipple between my thumb and forefinger like he was doing.

I turned to Rick to find he wasn't at all interested in what was happening on screen. Instead, he was staring at me — the live show — wide-eyed. His leg had dropped back down to the ground and his cock was absolutely bulging against his pants.

"Finish," I urged him, but he didn't seem to grasp what I was saying, he was still watching me toy with my tits. He looked up, and I nodded toward his cock, just as I let one of my hands slip down across my abdomen, and beneath the waistband of my shorts.

"Taylor... we shouldn't --"

"Shouldn't what? We're not even doing anything... we just happen to be watching porn together as two adults... and I just happen to be touching myself while we watch."

"I really don't..."

"Go ahead, Rick... I want you to finish."

Two attempts at resisting apparently eased his conscience, because he hesitated no more. He reached inside his pants and released his dick. I inhaled sharply at the sight of it — it was so big, so hard... more than my mind had ever imagined, and more than I'd ever experienced with any of my high school boyfriends. I'd sucked dick before, more because I knew it was what the guy wanted than anything else... but the sight of Rick's cock filled me with the most unexpected desire to have it inside my mouth. I swallowed hard, and my fingers found my pussy: warm, wet and throbbing.

I wanted him to see what I was doing the same way I could see him stroking his big cock, so I raised my hips and slid my shorts down so that they fell around my ankles. I lifted one leg so that it was bent, my foot resting on the sofa the same way his had been earlier when he'd been trying to hide his erection — except when I did it, it was to give him a better view as I slid my fingers in and out of my pussy.

The scene that was playing out with the trio on TV had been completely forgotten. Instead, Rick's gaze was locked on me and what I was doing, and mine was locked on him.

I angled myself more toward him, slid my fingers out and put them in my mouth, sucking on them softly. I then pulled them back out and used them to splay my pussy lips apart so he could see how wet I was. I had no idea where the idea to do that came from, but Rick apparently enjoyed it.

"Taylor..." his voice quivered and I loved it. I smirked at him, then started rubbing my clit as he tugged his dick harder and faster.

It. Felt. So. Good. And I wasn't entirely sure whether it was because of what I was doing to myself, the fact I was being watched while doing it, the fact that it was Rick who was getting a private show, or the fact I was watching him jerk that big cock — and it was me, not the porn, that made him so hard. Whatever the reason — or a combination of all of them — I knew I wasn't going to last.

"This feels... soo good" I practically moaned, while trying to keep my voice low. Despite the drugs and headphones, I didn't want to risk it. "Rick... I'm going to cum."

He was now furiously stroking his cock, his eyes never leaving my body, and I knew it wouldn't be long for him either.

"Finish." I commanded, "because I'm about t—" I couldn't complete the sentence, because my orgasm overtook me; my eyes wanted to close and I wanted so bad to moan aloud, but I bit my lip to keep from crying out, and locked eyes with Rick as the waves rocked through me. I was shocked, then thrilled to see he was staring back and having an orgasm as well; he grabbed the nearby towel and placed it under his cock as cum shot out of his throbbing head. My pelvis bucked up, wanting a cock — his cock — and cum inside my pussy.

As the orgasms subsided, we kept looking at each other, our chests rising and falling in unison. Suddenly, the sleepy slurred voice of Margaret came echoing down the hall. "Ricky..."

Ugh. I knew he hated being called that, so why the eff didn't he ever say anything?

The moment broken, Rick grabbed the remote and flipped the channel, and the threesome disappeared, replaced with a late night infomercial. He wiped at his cock, tossed the towel in the corner, and put his dick away and I jumped up, pulled up my shorts and high-tailed it back to the guest room.

There was no time to talk about what had happened, or how freaken amazing it was, but I didn't mind. I found the entire thing ridiculously exciting. As the door clicked shut behind me, I leaned against it and covered my mouth with my hand — I found I had a giddy desire to laugh at the whole thing. I could hear the muddled voices of Rick and Margaret talking, and I slipped into bed with what I knew was a smile comparable to a Cheshire cat's; I doubted she'd be getting any early morning sex now, if that's what she was looking for — and I wasn't at all upset about it.

The light that had seeped under the door from the living room and told me Rick was there disappeared, and I knew he was heading upstairs. I sighed and nestled deeper beneath the blankets; that was by far the best orgasm I'd ever given myself. And although it succeeded in making me sleepy, it also succeeded in something else... making me want more, and more, and more Rick.

I wondered how soon Becky would be up for another sleepover...