Friend of His Daughter

Disclaimer: Everybody is over eighteen. Everything is fictional. Any similarities are accidental. Don't abuse people.

I'm going to take her tonight.

The idea came to Russell as he watched them from the window of his second-floor bedroom. Below, the objects of his attention: daughter - Katie - and her two friends - Jessica and Emily - waded and talked about college, in the shallow end of the backyard pool. Russel's eyes slipped from his daughter's bronze skin and blonde locks and skipped right over Jessica's blotched and pudgy body where the war between childhood and puberty still raged on in the form battling hormones and acne. There! His eyes fixed on the third and only remaining girl.

Emily!

Emily, whom Russell first met at the beginning of the summer. Emily, whom he first discounted as only his daughter's friend, then reevaluated as an attractive young woman, and finally lusted over, imagining, in vivid detail, the things he would do to her, if ever he was given an opportunity. Emily, with those magnetic green eyes and often-present shy crooked grin. The petite frame and flawless light tan of her skin. Small, perfect, perky breasts.

Russell's eyes flared, as they have done many times over the course of the last three months. His heart threatened to beat out of his chest and his stomach churned with excitement and fear. He forced himself away from the window and out of the room, but the memory of the girl in that yellow bikini followed until he felt like it was chasing him as he walked and then half-jogged his way down the stairs and into the den, where he collapsed on the couch and flipped on the news.

On the couch, he resolved to stay until the girls were done swimming. On the couch is where he would regain his composure and steel himself for what was to come.

...

An hour crept by before Russell saw the three girls pile into the house and run up the stairs to shower and change. Another twenty minutes of mindless fiddling on the phone and Russell made his way up the stairs and into Katie's room.

There they were - all wearing baggy t-shirts and fitness shorts - their hair wet form the shower. Russell checked to see if they wanted pizza. The question was met with resounding confirmation and toping discussions. There was also other small talk and laughter. Lots of laughter. As conversation meandered from food to other topics and back to food again, Russell strolled over to Katie's bed, seating himself next to Emily. In front of him and Emily, Katie and Jessica wrestled with each other over the control of the marker they were using to write down the order, both girls breathless from the play-fight.

"Emily," Russel said, smiling at the girl and putting his hand on her shoulder "while those two are down there being useless, how about you? What do you want on that pizza?"

Emily isn't picky. She smiled and Russell caught the twinkle of her eyes as she looks up at him from underneath her pixie haircut. "I was fine with pepperoni," she replied, shrugging her other shoulder.

His eyes still fixed on Emily, Russell moved his hand, sliding from her inner shoulder to her bicep. Noticing the movement, the girl returned her attention back to Russell's face and then his hand. Slowly, Russell let go of the girl's arm and moved it toward her left breast. Emily jerked as Russell's hand brushes up against her breast, stopping for a moment at the nipple and then gently cupping it in its entirety. A moment passed, as the girl tried to comprehend what was happening. Then that moment was gone and Russell was now standing and the girls on the floor rolled into a lamp, knocking it over and laughing, and now Russell was walking out of the room and Emily was still struggling to catch up.

"Ok, ladies," Russell said, as he's walking out of the room and shooting a glance at a still dumbstruck Emily staring back at him, "I'm making the call in five minutes, so whoever wins this death-match has to tell me what they want before then!"

Dinner was an equally ruckus affair. Russell regales the girls with stories of Katie's childhood, Katie and Jessica are in an almost constant fit of laughter. Russell laughs along to keep up appearances. Emily, is subdued and focused on her food. Every once in a while, Russell catches the girl throw a fearful look his way. The other two girls are oblivious.

A half an hour and two pizzas later, the girls return back up the stairs to wash up and retire in Katie's room. The diner's trash and dirty dishes are left on the counter upon which they dined. Russell doesn't have the time to clean up now. Not if he wants things to go according to his plan. He checks to make sure that he is alone on the first floor and then creeps into the garage to pick up some tools he would need to make his preparations.

***

The clock on her cellphone tells Emily that it's one in the morning. The house is completely still. After tossing and turning for an hour, Emily gets up and makes her way to the bathroom. The door to Katie's bathroom is locked. Confused, Emily spends a full minute staring at the handle, trying to figure out how a door can be locked when nobody is inside. Finally, she gives up and, with the help of her phone's light, tip-toes down to the downstairs bathroom.

The first-floor bathroom's door is mercifully open. Emily pauses briefly, as she examines the door handle, because she can find no locking mechanism, but then gives up on finding it, as she doubts her privacy would be disturbed at this late an hour. Katie is already on the toilet, her shorts bunched around her ankles and her phone still in her hand, when she hears the sound of movement outside the door. A dull wave of fear passes through her and she stops relieving herself midstream, as the door handle twists and the once-dull wave turns into a sharp spike.

It is Mr. Masterson. Emily lets out a squeak of embarrassment. Dropping her phone, she ducks down towards the shorts around her ankles. She jerks them upwards in effort to make herself decent, but the waistband rips out of her grasp as she makes the upward motion. The fear she felt turns to horror. The shorts lie there on the floor, with Mr. Masterson's foot anchoring them down. This is not an accidental visit, she realizes. Her muscles shake and tense as she looks up at her friend's father, tears already forming in her eyes.

"Mr. Masterson, I-" she starts saying, but is cut off when Mr. Masterson raises his right index finger and places it across her lips.

"Shh..." is all he says, as his left index comes up to cross his lips in the same gesture.

Emily sobs, but stays otherwise quiet. After a few moments, Mr. Masterson brings his left hand up to Emily's cheek cradling it in his palm. The man's thumb rubs it a few strokes and then he plunges it into Emily's slightly open mouth.

"Shh," Mr. Masterson repeats, as Emily's body convulses at this violation.

"Please," Emily whimpers, "please, please, please!" She repeats the word another dozen times, unable to bring herself to even think, much less utter, what she is pleading for.

She looks the man in front of her up and down. Mr. Masterson is wearing a robe. She groans and whimpers once again, when the man finally takes his thumb out of her mouth and begins to untie the know holding the garment together. The robe slips off and Emily finds herself staring at hard abs and black boxer-briefs. Tears blur her vision and roll down her cheeks.

She is close to hyperventilating, when Mr. Masterson reaches inside his underwear and takes out his cock. Frozen in shock, Emily watches Mr. Masterson rest his hardening member on her face. It radiates heat and she feels like her skin burns at every point of contact between the penis and her face. She tries to jerk her away, but finds it impossible as the man is restraining her head. Far more dim than the shock of seeing her friend's father's cock, the fear of the size of the organ, and the disgust she felt due to her proximity to it, Emily knows she should fight, scratch, bite, and scream, but these thoughts seem distant to the fear and paralysis that grips her even harder than the man's hands.

***

Russell stares back and his cock jerks as he notes how the girl's eyes. already wider than dinner plates, widen even more as her mind connects the dots and becomes aware of what he's planning on doing to her.

"Please! don't make me do thi-" Emily starts, but her sentence is cut off once again, as Russell slips half of his length into her mouth. The emeralds staring back at him are obscured, when the girl's eyes shut, pushing out a fresh wave of tears. The girl throws her head backwards in an attempt to extricate his cock out of her mouth, but Russell has already wrapped his fingers around the back of her head. With palms one each side of Emily's head, he arrests any attempts of backward movement.

He waits like this for moment, unmoving while holding her head in place and watching her struggle to come to terms with the foreign object in her mouth.

"Open your eyes, Emily," he says. His voice is a firm, low, commanding rumble which he would use if a child misbehaves. Instinctively, Emily pauses her struggling and shows Russell her miserable eyes. With them and with the tiny shakes of her head, the girl tries to implore Russell to stop, bringing a smile to Russell's face.

"Keep those eyes on me, Emi," he says and starts to bring his pelvis forward, slipping his cock further into the girl's mouth. Slowly, at first, partly because the girl resumed her struggling and partly because he wanted to savor the moment, then a bit faster. Though Russell hasn't even touched the back of her throat, the girl gags, coughs, and retches, as her eyes roll wildly from Russell's face to the cock in her mouth.

A minute of slow thrusting and Russell is forced to pull out, as Emily's panic reached some sort of crest which he hadn't expected. As he lets go of her head, the girl pitches forward, crashes into his legs and then down unto the floor, her rear end awkwardly follows after. On the floor she lay for a few moments, still coughing, gagging and convulsing with sobs.

Russell gives her a few moments to compose and then lifts her back up unto the seat of the toilet. Kneeling back down he runs his hand underneath her shirt, feeling up her flat sweat-sleeked stomach. The girl's white shirt front is drenched in sweat and the fabric clings to her breasts, leaving nothing to the imagination. Using his other hand, Russell unsticks the shirt, running the hand which was on the girl's stomach, up to her chest. There, he gently kneads her breasts, slowly running his hand around her chest in a figure eight pattern and stopping occasionally to roll her nipples. Emily fumbles weakly, using her hands to put her weight down on Russell's arm in order to get away from it, but it has no effect.

"No! Please! No!" she repeats, in hoarse half-hearted exhaustion.

Satisfied with finally getting the chance to touch and feel the chest he has often fantasized about, Russell stands back up and assumes his original position. Slowly, he lifts her chin up and then caresses the hair out of Emily's sweat-and-tear-streaked face. Realizing that that he wasn't done with her mouth, the girl descends into another bout of sobbing and crying.

"Shh! Emi. Shh! You're doing great," Russell says, as he strokes her face. Kneeling back down and gives her a few chaste pecks on the mouth. The girl's entire face feels like it's on fire. Her lips and breath feel even hotter. Soon Russell finds himself trying to stick his tongue into her throat. Wrapping one arm around the girl's back and the other around her head, he thrusts her towards him and presses his mouth harder into hers. The girl alternates between screaming and struggling and fighting for her breath, until he withdraws and picks himself back up.

"I'm going to start fucking your face again, but I need you to pay attention as I give you some pointers, okay?" Russell asks and when the girl doesn't reply, he gives her cheek a brisk slap and asks the question until she acknowledges. Then, the cock slips back into Emily's mouth. "First thing I need you to do is to stick your tongue out your mouth, and as I thrust in and out, I need you to lick the bottom of it from left to right and vice versa. Look up at me, Emi."

Emily looks up, bewildered.

"Ok, watch me do it," Russell says as he demonstrates. "See? it's basically like you're licking your lips because you're going to eat something tasty. Let's give this a shot!"

Russell shoves his cock all the way to the back of Emily's mouth and is surprised when the girl didn't immediately begin retching. Deeper than before, but still at a leisurely pace, Russell begins thrusting himself in and out of the girl's mouth, while instructing her on how to properly slip her tongue from one side, to the other, and back into her mouth.

Russell's pace quickens as the girl becomes better acclimated to her task. Excitement grows, as he watches his daughter's friend slurp his cock. The girl's struggles to keep her saliva from dripping down cause her to suck in after every slip of the tongue. The sounds of rhythmic slurping and sucking fill the room, interrupted only by the sobs and protestations cut-off by the squelch of his cock blocking her windpipe. Together the noises combine to a melody which continuously threatens to send Russell over the edge. Then comes the wave that he can't hope to crest, so he let's go. With increasing urgency, Russell thrusts deeper and deeper into Emily's mouth. The pace overwhelms the girl and saliva drips down her chin, making her appear used and beautiful at the same time.

Russell groans and picks up the pace even more. The girl, panicked by the escalation and the pain of Russell's cock hitting the back of her mouth, gets a second-wind and renews her attempts to free herself, but Russell's ever-present hands are there and ready for it.

With a few final deep thrusts, Russell pulls his head out of Emily's throat and comes in her mouth. The energy - pent up from the times that he has brought himself back from the edge - is released all at once. He groans as he thrusts back into Emily's throat for the final few pumps.

After making sure the girl swallowed at least some of it, Russell pulls out and watches as the girl struggles with the reflex to vomit. He forces her face upwards and smiles as he takes in the girl's cum and sweat covered face.

"You are so beautiful, Emi," he tells her, as he disrobes completely and starts on her, by lifting up her shirt over her head.

She screams and writhes, making it difficult to strip her.

"It's okay," Russell says, softly. "It's okay, we're just going to take a shower."

He coos and whispers assurances to her as he finally wrests her head and arms from tangling up the shirt and the girl is completely naked. Stepping away only to turn on the water and switch on the shower, he picks her up and cradles her as he steps into the bathtub.

Emily goes limp and Russell, finding it hard to maneuver with her in his hands, sits down and turns her into the warm water. His cock hardens as he runs his hands all over her body which somehow feels like it has shrunk, now that she is cradled against him and in his lap. The girl feels Russell's cock coming back to life and tries to break free. Her struggle does nothing but arouse him even more, but he forces himself not to act on it. The rest of her, he resolves, he will take with his cock on another occasion.

Keeping her down with one hand and lathering soap on her stomach and chest, Russell renews the string of assurances that the worst has already happened. The girl stops, but it is unclear whether his words had the intended effect or she is simply exhausted. Minutes pass and Russell ceases his hands' constant roaming, as the two simply sit and listen to the shower. Russell brushes the wet hair away from Emily's face and tilts her face upwards to see her.

"It's okay, I'm not going to hurt you," he tells her, as he presses his forehead to hers. "I'm not going to hurt you," he repeats as he begins to kiss her.

Emily doesn't struggle but resumes crying.

Slowly working his tongue and lips, Russell reaches in with his hand and cups the girl's hairless mound. Emily jerks and tries to say something and then jerks again, with renewed vigor, when Russell's index finger finds her slit and begins rubbing it. Lips still locked, Russell rotates his fingers sending the girl into a kind of reflexive jerk with each path.

"Please," she cries into his mouth, every vowel in the word enunciated in a prolonged wail. "Stop!"

Russell's finger slips in. He breaks the kiss to come up for air and to see Emily's facial reaction, but he only catches a grimace as the girl instantly jerks her head downwards and buries it in his chest. Russell's finger picks up pace and Emily wraps her hand around his back and clenches his side with all her strength. Protests, whimpers, and soft grunts emanate from Russell's chest area, as Emily collapses into a fetal position around his arm.

She looks so beautiful, Russell thinks. Vulnerable. Feminine.

Friction from the girl's ass sliding around his lap threatens to have him come. Russell smiles and picks up the pace even more. The girl's body begins shuddering and shaking. Finally, she lets out a full-throated moan which turns to a scream. Picking up the pace even more, Russell watches the girl reach orgasm, as her body tenses and her hands squeeze whatever part of Russell's body they happened to be gripping.

Suddenly, the scream cuts off and Emily arches her back forward. Her head snap back revealing only the whites of her rolling eyes. She stays like this for a few seconds, body rigid, fingers splayed out and now longer gripping flesh. Then, she collapses back down, sobbing and shaking occasionally.

...

Immediately after making her come, Russell dressed and stood outside of the bathroom, listening to the shower go for another half an hour, before knocking on the door and telling her to get dressed and come out. A few minutes later, Emily stepped out, her eyes already filling with tears, as Russell wrapped his arms around her for an embrace. Leaning back, Russell took her chin in his hand and tipped it upwards. His other hand slipped in between her shorts, caressing her left buttock as he leaned in for a long kiss.

They stood like that for a few moments, Russell exploring her mouth with his tongue and propping her up to him with his hand, while Emily, too scared to move, half-stood half-hung unto him, sometimes limp, sometimes rigid. Then, Russell broke the coupling and, using all the fatherly command his voice could muster, he stroked her back and explained how she ought to carry on as if nothing had ever happened, how she couldn't tell anybody, and how things would go down if she decided to be difficult.

The message stuck. Emily said nothing. And a short while after, Russell knew, he would run into her again and he would have to have another such conversation with her... after he was finished.