Her Dad's Friend

The place is packed with rank, hairy men that look as though they bathe in Crisco. I feel eyes following me through the story. Paul must notice it too because he puts a protective arm around my waist and we walk like that the entire time.

“So what are we looking for here?” he asks with a boyish smile touching his lips.

I pick up a large bottle of strawberry flavored lube. “Oh, I don’t know. Just browsing,” I say in the same casual tone he’d used on me in the furniture store.

I put the lube back on the shelf with the others. From the corner of my eye I watch him pick it back up and carry it with him. “By all means, take whatever you want,” he says.

I’m looking at a wall of vibrating eggs. He grabs one off the shelf that has a cord and battery pack. He’s like a little kid in a candy story, stealthily putting things in the cart after his mother had put it back on the shelf. Next I make my way to the toys. There are all kinds of dildos: little, big, and absolutely brutal. I pick up one shaped like a fist and fight laughter when his eyes stretch to fill his face.

He says, “Trust me, that won’t fit.” He leans over and whispers in my ear, tickling my skin. “I’m lucky that tiny little hole of yours fits me … very lucky.” He kisses me on the jaw and I’m starting to wonder if we’ll even make it the apartment before I maul him with my vagina.

I have a lovely collection of my own dildos—and they’re all quite junior compared to the fist of fury—so I bypass those and finger a pair of fuzzy handcuffs. Looking back over my shoulder, Paul’s eyes are ballooning out of his head again and he’s over-eager when he says, “Yes. Grab those. Now.”

I giggle and take them off the shelf.

By the time we get back to my apartment the delivery truck is waiting outside. Paul and his friend unload everything and start carrying the dresser upstairs. I rush ahead of them to unlock and open the door. When I get to my door, Jeremy is leaning against the door jam.

“Jeremy, what are you doing here?”

Hearing my surprise, Paul looks around the dresser and almost drops his end. “Steady there,” his friend says.

Paul gives Jeremy an intimidating look and tells his friend, “I got it, keep going.”

As he passes Jeremy, Paul gives him a nod that lacks any friendliness.

Once Paul and his friend are inside the house, Jeremy says, “I couldn’t stop thinking about you after our date. I was going to text before coming over, but I wanted to say this in person.” He reaches out and touches my fingers, hooking onto them. I want to pull them out of his grip, but Jeremy seems like a nice guy and I don’t want to make a big deal out of this even if I can feel Paul’s eyes at my back.

I glance behind me, just to confirm, and there he is, at the threshold. His hands are tucked protectively in his pockets to hold himself back, his jaw clinched as if he’s ready to toss Jeremy down the stairs.

Paul and his friend make several more trips up the stairs, slowing down when they get near me and Jeremy—I suspect it’s to eaves drop.

Jeremy seems oblivious to the intrusion and says, “Let me take you out again. I can cook this time. I make a mean fettuccini alfredo.

Paul has come to a complete stop and his friend seems just as intrigued by my conversation with Jeremy. Paul looks ready to launch out of his skin.

“You’re a really great guy, Jeremy,” I say, “and I had fun last night, but I have a boyfriend now.” I glance over at Paul and his stunning blues meet my gaze and he drops an inch of height as his body relaxes. I grin at him, and he shows a ghost of a smile as he goes back into the apartment with the last of the furniture.

I like the sound of that word in my ears when referring to Paul. Boyfriend. I like the taste of it on my tongue.

“A boyfriend?” Jeremy says, taken aback. “That was quick.”

“I’m sorry, I should’ve told you before. We’d both been into each other, but neither of us were brave enough to say it until last night after you dropped me off.”

He hangs his head and smiles sadly. “Damn. I knew I should’ve asked if I could come in last night.” He sighs and looks back at me. “Well, good luck, but if things don’t work out with you two, call me.”

“I’ll see you in class,” I say and watch him walk back down the stairs.

Paul’s friend passes me on his way to his truck. “Looks like we’re all set. Enjoy the new furniture.”

“I will, thank you. It’s gorgeous.”

Back inside my apartment, Paul waits for me. I walk up to him, put my hand on his chest and push him toward the bedroom. On the way, I pick up the bag of toys we bought at the adult novelty shop and bring it with us.

His smile lights up the dim room. I turn on the light because I don’t want to miss a thing.

At first I seem like the one in control, pushing him around, but as soon as the cuffs are out of their package, he takes over, cuffing me to my old headboard. He wastes no time getting my shorts and panties off. My shirt and bra are pushed up to my wrists. Leaning back, he takes in my nakedness, Adam’s apple bobbing in his throat as he devours me with his eyes.

“Spread your legs for me,” he demands.

I do as he tells me, opening my legs as far as they’ll go so he has a perfect view. He tilts his head to the side, his lips slack and partly open as he examines the delicate skin between my legs. It turns me on even more, being watched and seeing the front of his jeans grow tight from his erection.

He strips out of his jeans and begins slowly stroking himself as he examines me. Even with his massive hands wrapped around himself, his dick still looks huge. As far as dicks go, he has a nice one. The head is large but not too big so that it hurts. It turns a deep pink when he’s turned on. The velvety smooth shaft is long and thick and perfectly proportionate to the head.

After a minute, he stops his own pleasure to tend to me once more. His hands massage and tickle the sensitive skin of my labia, stopping just short of entering me or touching my clit. He’s so disciplined, never in a hurry, building these feelings into a furious storm before allowing me to get any relief.

“I can smell your soap on your sheets on your old bed,” he says. My eyes flutter open at the sound of his voice.

“You were in my room?”

My room at my parents’ house is exactly the way I left it before moving into my apartment. Even my diary is still stuffed under the mattress. The one that has Paul’s name scrolled through it a thousand times, talking about all my childish day dreams of our wedding, the names of our future children, all the sexy things I wanted to try that I’d seen in porno videos or magazines.

I still have dirty laundry there, my laptop that has naked selflies on it, which, thankfully, is password protected. Everything that could possibly humiliate me with Paul is in that room and he’s had plenty of time to go snooping.

He’s looking curiously at me. “I couldn’t help but think when I sat on your bed that this was the same place you used to touch yourself when you were first discovering new sensations to your body. The same bed you snuck a boy into while your parents were asleep downstairs, and he put his fingers into you for the first time.”

My eyes open wide. “How—” I start to say, but remember my diary.