Happily Ever After With My Dad's Best Friend

“Nothing’s wrong. I just never had anyone’s tongue, there before.”

“It doesn’t feel good?”

“It feels amazing, it’s just … different.”

A lop-sided grin pulls at the corner of his mouth. His face inches closer and closer to me, tongue slowly extending from his mouth until the tip just barely touches my asshole again, sending shockwaves through me.

“I could stop, if you want,” he says.

I open my mouth to speak, but then he does something with his tongue that melts my brain and makes me forget everything I was about to say.

“Relax,” he says. Our eyes meet. God, he’s gorgeous. He strokes the insides of my thighs and says, “Don’t think about what I’m doing. Don’t think about anything. Just feel it. And if it feels good, let it happen. Trust me.”

I do trust him.

Nodding, I lay my head back and release my muscles from their rigid hold on my limbs and just enjoy him, what he’s doing and Oh. My. God. It’s everything. I had no idea being with someone could feel like this—and we haven’t even had sex yet!

I’m going over the threshold, I realize, and beg him not to stop. He works enthusiastically at my clit with his mouth, and tongue, sucking it between his lips, while two fingers from one hand drills into my pussy and his thumb from his other hand massages the outer ring of my asshole. I’ve never had anyone touch me there before either and I have to admit it feels pretty damn amazing.

I can feel my orgasm coming from a far-away place, rushing toward me at a furious pace until, like an earthquake, it hits me with full force. Sparks of glittery light flash in front of vision, and I’m thoughtless and dumb, temporarily insane, humping Paul’s face as this sensation rocks me to the point of blacking out.

I’m holding my breath the entire time, crying out. I have no idea how loud I’m being or if the neighbors can hear me, and frankly I don’t care because I’ve just been to another planet, another plane of existence.

When my orgasm finally starts to ebb, I’m left useless and shaking. I open my eyes and my vision is blurry. Paul has moved to my side, elbow crooked, resting his head in his palm and watching me with a teasing smile. “You okay?” he asks.

I can hardly get words out through my shattered breaths. “Holy shit.”

He laughs, and starts to say something else, but I’m peeling off his shirt and kissing him before he can speak. I can smell myself on his lips and it’s glorious and peachy-tasting, and I lick it up. Though I’d just had a life-altering orgasm and still have ringing in my ears from it, I’m ready for more. This thing, whatever it is that’s happening with me and Paul, it’s dangerous. It’s addictive.

I pull him to his feet, and his smile grows at my eagerness. I kneel before him and hook my fingers into the waistband of his jeans and pull them down to his feet, releasing him. Jesus, he’s big. Bigger than I’d imagined. How the fuck is he still single? This isn’t the type of fish one throws back. This sucker is the one you get stuffed and mounted on the wall to show off and brag about to your friends.

I run my hands up his long, tattooed legs. Gripping his steel-hard cock with both hands, he rolls his head back and lets out an approving groan. I practically have to unhinge my jaw like a snake to fit him into my mouth. Pre-cum drips from the spongy tip and I lick up every salty drop, massaging the cashmere underbelly of his beautiful prick with my tongue.

He holds the sides of my head, fingers wrapped around my ears and pushes deeper into my throat. My eyes water and drool leaks from the corners of my mouth as I swallow him down. As long as I relax my throat he glides in easily and soon he’s fucking my face with vigor and I’m loving every inch of him.

Just when we find our rhythm, he pulls out, and I take a long breath. He takes me by the armpits and hauls me back onto the bed. He kicks off his shoes and socks and climbs onto me. Watching my face, he slides into me, cautious, as if he’s afraid of hurting me. I’m stretched to my limit, but it’s good. Really fucking good.

Slowly, he picks up the pace until he’s using my shoulders for leverage to slam into me. Our skin slaps together with each forward thrust.

I’ve never been noisy in bed. I’ve always been skeptical of those who are. I mean, it can’t be that good, right?

Wrong. So very, very wrong.

Having him inside of me, stretching me, pulsing and aching for me, I can’t help it. I open my mouth and I’m calling out, “Oh, yes, fuck me! Harder, yeah, right there.” I’m making ridiculous noises that, in any other context, would be comical.

The dirtier my words, the more it seems to feed his lust. He flips me over onto my stomach, hips up as if I were a doll that weighs nothing.

He spanks me hard on the ass. I lurch forward and cry out.

“So you want to fuck, huh?” he says, tangling his fingers in my hair.

So he did get the text after all. I was starting to wonder if it went through.

“Yes, please fuck me,” I beg.

He spanks me again and I yelp and smile into my pillow. He’s so possessive in the bedroom. So unlike his normal demeanor and I’m loving this side of him. I can definitely get used to this.

I let out a long, loud moan when he enters me from behind. It’s always been my favorite position. The most direct path inside with the least resistance. As he drives into me, the head of his dick presses against my cervix, causing tendrils of pain with pleasure. The blinds are open in my room. I usually close them right before bed. Anyone looking in will see my sex face, but none of that matters to me right now.

The heady scent of sex fills the room, pushing me to the brink. My second orgasm rips through me with hurricane force. As my muscles start to contract around his width, Paul lets out a primal roar and unleashes his warm seed inside of me. We stay that way, locked together for several minutes as we come down. We’re breathing heavily. He’s draped over my back, kissing my spine, and then we collapse. He cradles me in a spooning position. I’m glad he can’t see the ridiculous smile I feel stretching my face.

He strokes my hair with his fingers, untangling the sweaty strands. “That was amazing,” he says.

I turn over to face him. His eyes are hooded, face groggy. “It was more than amazing.”

A stream of cum rolls down my leg and it hits me suddenly that we forgot to use a condom. I mentally make a note to get to the pharmacy in the morning for a morning after pill.

As I kiss his forehead, cheeks, lips, and chin, his eyes meld shut. He pulls me closer to him, and before I know it, I fall asleep in his arms.

4

I wake up the next morning to the droning buzz of my alarm clock. The room is filled with light without the blinds drawn and I’m completely naked. I’m still in the same position I was last night when Paul and I fell asleep together. Trying not to wake him, I peel his arms off of me and slide out of bed.

“Do yo

u have to go?” he mumbles to my back as I put on my robe.

I look over my shoulder at him. He has one eye open and his hair’s a mess. Utterly adorable. “Yeah, I have exams.”

He grumbles and sits up, looking around my room as if he just realized where he was for the first time. “Where’s all your stuff?” he asks.

“What do you mean? What stuff?”

He closes one eye and takes inventory of my belongings. “You have a full-sized bed, a table, and a lamp. Where’s your dresser and all your clothes? There’re no pictures on the walls, or things to decorate and make the space your own. You’re like a tidy homeless person.”

I smile, but he’s right. It’s been so long without acknowledging the things I like that I’ve managed to lose interest in and even forget everything other than school and Paul. “My clothes are in my closet.”

“In that shoe box?” he asks, frowning at my closet that’s just big enough to squeeze a body in. If it were anyone other than Paul I might’ve taken offence.

I shrug. “I don’t need much.”

Truth is, I can’t afford much, and I refuse to have my parents help me—not that they actually would. Even after loans, grants, and scholarships, being a student pays hardly anything at all. My part time job at the coffee shop around the corner from the campus pays just enough to cover utilities and food. I have to keep telling myself that someday, when I have my degree and the job of my dreams, all the struggle will be worth it.

“Hmm,” is all he says.

“I need to go get my shower,” I say, heading for the bathroom.

I’ve just started washing my hair when the sliding door to the shower opens. Paul steps in behind me, lacing his fingers with mine, and starts to work the shampoo into my scalp. When he’s done he takes my loofa and douses it in my green tea body wash, lathering it up before starting at my shoulders.