Molly and Friends Ch. 01

I used to think I of myself as "lucky." I mean, when the car hit mine, I could have been killed. I wasn't, though the hours I should have spent watching my only daughter, Molly, graduate from school, I lay sedated in a hospital bed. What follows is the true story about what happened after. Whether it's real, or whether I'm still in a coma and dreaming this whole thing up... Hell, I stopped worrying about that a long time ago.

My wife left us ten years ago, but she also lost the privilege of watching Molly grow into an amazing young woman. Polite, popular, near the top of her class, softball pitcher, and with a figure to match Angela's. In short, every father's dream. Three days after graduation came Molly's birthday. That, at least, I was awake for.

The hospital discharged me that morning, rolling the mass of bandages and casts that was me to the entrance in a wheelchair. It didn't look like the same entrance I came through but, thinking back on it, I was strapped to a board. This time, rather than being greeted by a scalpel, an ecstatic Molly bounced out of her Jeep and up to me.

"Oh Daddy, I came as soon as they called. I would have been here last night except I was getting the house ready."

She gave me an awkwardly gentle hug, which amounted to little more than pressing my nose into her cleavage. I closed my eyes instinctively, and breathed in a mixture of vanilla and brown sugar. Then she withdrew and the pain returned in one hideous torrent.

"Ow," I struggled out.

"Oh! I'm sorry, Daddy!" Molly collapsed on her knees next to the hospital chair. Her eyes came level with mine, and her purple contacts were awash with her concern. They looked strange even on a good day.

The doctor, surgeon, whatever, cleared her throat. "Miss Roarke, that's probably his vicodin wearing off." She tore a prescription off her pad and handed it to my daughter. "Fill that, and keep him in bed for at least three days. My number's at the top. Call me if his stitches come loose."

Molly's face went severe. "How will I know?"

I could practically hear the woman roll her eyes in her tone. Molly sometimes came off as stupid just for asking questions other people might not think of. She genuinely wanted to know, so that she wouldn't freak out at the first false alarm symptom. Hell, she'd read through Grey's Anatomy while she was away at camp one summer. As a counselor, of course.

"He'll be bleeding all over the sheets. Also, call me if his temperature spikes. We'll need to bring him back for more observation..."

She began to trail off into medical jargon which I'll spare you from since, to be honest, I was in too much pain to pay attention to any of it. The next thing I knew, my chair was in motion and two pairs of hands—I refuse to this day to believe they were Molly and the Doctor—lifted me into the Jeep's leather embrace. "The Cherry-Red Wrangler" was her sixteenth birthday present, and her efforts kept it in as great a condition as the day she picked it out. Like I said, a father's dream.

The pain must have made me pass out even before she had my seatbelt across my chest. I felt her breasts brush my thigh, but soon realized they belonged to Molly's friend Nivea. About her name, well, don't ask. I went to college with her mother, and she was always a little weird. Rather than her given name, Nivea preferred to be called Ginger. It's what was on her softball jersey, after all.

"Relax, Molly's Dad," she scolded. She refused to call me Jim since I refused to call her Ginger. We'd never grown out of it, what can I say?

"Dad, she's got you."

The thought crossed my mind to wonder how many pieces of me were missing if a single eighteen-year-old girl could lift my body. And yet, I saw and felt all my limbs. Must have been all that blood I lost.

Nivea put me in a wheelchair, a rental by the creak of it, and Molly crossed around from the other side of the Jeep juggling two sacks of groceries and her keys. "Shit," she said suddenly. "I forgot the prescription."

"Get it tomorrow," I groaned, "I'll sleep until then."

"My poor Daddy, you slept all the way home, didn't you? Well, I've got something from when I tore my shoulder last season. That should do for now."

"Molly!" hissed Nivea. I couldn't see her face, but Molly's reaction went from confused to understanding to frightened in less than a second.

"Just get him into the guest room, the bathroom will be closer than the one upstairs. I'm going back to the store."

A twinge began on the left side of my lower back and soon encompassed the rest of my torso. I gritted my teeth through it, but forced out some agony-induced words. "Pills. Give. Now."

My daughter nearly dropped the groceries on her rush to unlock the door. She and Nivea whispered in hushed tones, as girls often do, but all I could pick up were things like, "Don't worry about it."

They got me settled on the bed and, once my head and heart were aligned, a taste of numbness returned to the general area of my body. As the two girls began to outright argue, I began to wonder if I was, in fact, already dead. Sorry ladies, but at least fists are quieter.

"Molly," I growled, stretching out the name into two long syllables. Both girls went silent, suddenly remembering their current meal ticket was in pain.

"Fine," said Nivea, "just go get them. I'll get a glass of water and some more pillows, then if you want me to head to the store I will."

My daughter hugged her friend in apology and they were off and running. Through the wall, I heard Molly bound up the stairs to her bedroom. From somewhere else came the hiss of running water. Good, both my ears still worked. If I weren't in so much pain, I probably would have cared what their argument was about.

I just lay there instead. The ceiling of our guest room is decorated with little blue fleur-de-lis, and Molly had been kind enough to leave the light off. The drapes were closed, so the only light came from the hallway. She'd already setup an iHome for me, and the local radio station was on at a low volume. There was a chair near the bed with a tattered paperback sitting on it, and a stack of blankets stood next to it on the floor. She planned on spending a lot of time in here, then.

As the two girls returned, they giggled about some shared joke. I didn't think this was the time for giggling, but I always liked when the sound filled my home. That thought suddenly reminded me of a hazy request, lost in the pre-accident cloud. Then the words echoed in my head, as clear as when Molly had said them the week before.

"Can I have the girls over for the weekend after Graduation? We're going to do a LOST marathon!"

Shit. She had plans. And Nivea had shown up early to help clean and get the house ready for eight rambunctious eighteen year olds who'd just graduated.

Granted, the injured card trumps the burden card, I don't care who you are, but I still felt guilty along with just plain dead. I didn't want my adult daughter setting her friends aside to feed me pills and watch me sleep. So I told her so. Or tried to, anyway.

Molly wasn't having any of it. "If you don't mind listening to crazy smoke monsters and a bunch of frightened girls, Daddy, I'd rather be here with you and do both."

"Well, they are my DVDs," I said. Still coherent enough to bite back. I'm sure the Doctor would have said that's a good sign.

"Here, take these."

I opened my mouth and Molly dropped three pills onto my tongue, raking her fingertips across it to make sure they all came off. Nivea came in just after, leaning over me from across the bed and offering me water.

Perhaps I should pause here and say there's another reason I enjoy the sound of giggling in my house. Girls like Nivea and Molly are rare, and my daughter is friends with six others who were on their way. Don't get the wrong idea when I say these girls play softball and could out-chess Bobby Fisher. Like I said, I'm lucky.

Her tits swung down as she leaned forward, held in by only her T-shirt. Her strawberry hair fell long and straight over her shoulders, and her green eyes sparkled in the near-darkness. If she wasn't half my age, I probably would have tried to move my hands and claim accident. Fact being fact, I sipped at the water with my eyes glued to the view.

I swallowed the pills, choked a little, and closed my eyes as I settled my head back against the pillow.

"Do you need anything... else, Daddy?" asked Molly.

"This'll do for now."

I might have slept for ten minutes or ten hours, I had no idea. All I knew when I woke up was that my cock had woken up already. And that the only thing between it and the world was a blanket. Coincidence? I dared a glance down to confirm the tent was noticeable, and only had one word for this situation.

"Fuck."

A form stirred next to me and realized I'd cursed a little louder than intended. Nivea wiped her eyes and leaned closer to the bed, her elbows on top of her knees.

"Guess I fell asleep on watch, eh, Molly's D..." She paused, or rather, her voice ran away for a second. "Oh, my god."

I followed the direction of her gaze... to the lump in my blankets. Before I could even apologize, she pinched the edge of the blanket and lifted it about ten inches. Then ten more. I could see her eyes widening every time the view got better.

"Jesus, Jim..."

It had been a long time since a woman used both of those names in my presence. Still, though, this was Nivea. It felt like my own daughter was staring at my dick. Awkwardness, embarrassment, and pain don't go well together, but I'd be lying if I said I wasn't also a little turned on. My cock twitched as if to inform me that I couldn't possibly be more turned on, at the moment.

I glanced back at Nivea... No, Ginger. I owed it to her, since she'd called me Jim. I guess I expected her to be more disgusted by the bruises and swelling from my injures than curious about my hard-on. As I looked at her, I actually couldn't tell which was on her face.

"I told Molly the pills would do this," she said, shaking her head.

It took me a moment to process the words, but even less time to say, "What?"

"Well, they do something ...similar ...to us, and, well..." Ginger bit her bottom lip, fidgeting with her free hand, but she didn't lower the blanket. The cold air felt pretty good, but this was my daughter's friend. Anything that might happen wouldn't be right, and I was still in far too much pain for any type of exertion—pills or no pills.

"Ginger..." I cleared my throat and snapped Ginger back to reality.

"Oh," she said, started. "I'm... I'm sorry." Ginger dropped the blanket and left the room in a hurry. When she didn't come back right away, I sighed and tried to relax. I say tried, because I couldn't get the thought of what the pills did to her and Molly out of my mind. If I thought I'd survive it, I would have moved one of my hands to quell the erection. Eventually, I fell asleep again.

I woke to voices coming from the kitchen. The entire room was bathed in darkness, so it was sometime that night. I strained to hear, but it was hard making out the voices from the television.

"Wow, you SAW it?" one asked. Probably Janie, my daughter's raven-haired friend. Shortstop for the team, and pale as porcelain. A month prior, when Molly threw her a birthday party, I'd accidentally walked in on her changing to swim, but hadn't seen anything.

"Yeah, totally," replied Ginger.

There was a period of stunned silence.

"How big is it?" Janie again.

"Huge."

"You didn't see it," said Molly.

"Have YOU ever seen it, Moll?" asked another—Laura the Blonde.

Another pause where only the television made a sound.

"I bet you have," said Liona, Laura's twin sister.

Ginger egged on the momentum. "Yeah, come on, tell! Tell!"

"Just once," said my daughter. My heart just about jumped out of my chest. "A couple weeks ago, I came home from school early. He was in his room, masturbating. Probably thinking about Mom."

Holy shit! She saw that?

"I didn't watch for long. Had to get ready to go see Eric."

"That bastard," said Laura.

I didn't know Molly had broken up with her long-time boyfriend, but if he was a bastard in their books then he was in mine, too.

"I want to see it," said Liona.

"Me too," her twin put in.

Ginger giggled. "Hell, I want to see it AGAIN."

"You guys, my dad is not a toy. He's really hurt."

I managed a smile for my daughter's protective pride. My cock twitched again, once to remind me it was still there and awake, and once to punish me for hoping they wouldn't come to check on me for a while longer.

"I know, Moll, and I want to help him feel better." Ginger stressed the last word. It was impossible to misunderstand her intentions.

Soon I heard whispering footsteps on the hardwood in the hall. My heart skipped a beat as I realized the entire gaggle of eight were migrating into the room. They encircled the bed, by the sound of it, and I had no choice but to shut my eyes and pretend to sleep.

"I can't see anything," said Laura.

"He'll wake up if I turn the light on," replied Molly. I couldn't believe she volunteered to be a part of this. "Grab a couple of candles from the kitchen, and the matches."

Soon I heard the telltale pop, and noticed a glow on the other side of my eyelids. I kept still and breathed deep, mimicking sleep as best I knew how. It wasn't easy, with eight ridiculously hot girls all focused on me.

I tried not to twitch as someone, Ginger I assume, began to pull the blanket down from my chest. The fabric slid down and down until once again the chill air made my stomach and crotch tingle. Without the weight of the blanket, my cock became a flagpole. I'm not miraculously endowed by any means, but I get the job done.

"Jesus, it IS huge..." marveled Liona.

"Told you," Ginger said. "Now watch this."

I felt her weight shift the bed as she knelt beside me. She wiggled a bit, probably tying her hair up behind her head, then I felt a hand on my thigh. Ginger was leaning over, balancing herself on me.

"He's going to wake up," warned Molly.

"Let him." And with that, her lips closed around the head of my cock.

There's a reason men love blowjobs. It's not the same as sex, where there's a mountain of pressure on your cock from all sides. A mouth is hollow compared to a pussy, and when a girl knows how to use her tongue, a blowjob can send us to the fucking moon. Ginger slid her lips up and down slowly, and it was all I could do not to moan.

She let the head loose with a small pop, sucking her saliva off it, and wrapped her hand around my shaft to jerk it a few times. "Who wants to be next?" she asked.

"Me, me, me," said Liona. "I never got to thank him properly for changing my brakes."

A second, smaller mouth slid over my cock with just as much enthusiasm as Ginger. When the head bumped the back of her throat, Liona gagged. I figured she would cough and give up, but then she did something amazing. She swallowed my cock.

"That is SO sexy," I heard my daughter say.

Liona moaned around my dick, deepthroating for all she was worth. Then, long before I was ready for it to be, her turn was over.

"God, this is making me so hot, you guys." Janie's voice was a little hesitant, but the lust in her words was clear and unmistakable.

A little hum of agreement went up around the group. They were all horny and, as far as they were concerned, mine was the only dick for miles. Just the way I like it.

"You sure you're not weirded out by this?" Laura asked.

"No," Molly answered.

"Do you want to go next, then?" Ginger's voice practically dripped with a dare. She knew exactly how my daughter would respond. I, on the other hand, couldn't let it happen.

My eyes snapped open. All thoughts of protest disappeared as I saw the naked silhouettes of eight young goddesses in a circle around me. The redhaired one still knelt on the bed, her hand gripping me gently. One blonde stood at my feet, leaned forward but further back from where she had sucked me. And my daughter, my sweet Molly, pinching one tit with a finger sliding in and out of her pussy.

"He's awake!" announced Ginger. "Welcome back to reality, Jim."

None of the other girls moved or made a sound. They waited to see how I would react.

"Molly," I said breathlessly, "this is..."

"Shhh," she put a quieting finger against my lips. It smelled of pussy, my own daughter's pussy.

I shushed.

"Let us do this for you, Daddy. You do so much for us."

When her lips closed around my cock, I'm pretty sure I went into orbit. I came. Over and over again, I shot cum into my daughter's mouth after she'd barely even started. Loyal even in cocksucking, Molly lowered her lips further and caught it all, swallowing repeatedly. Evidently this wasn't her first time.

Once she was done, Molly wiped her lips to make sure she got it all, and licked her fingers. "Mmm."

"No fair," said Laura, "I didn't even get a turn."

"Me either," Janie put in, just as upset.

"Girls, girls," said Ginger, the biggest instigator of them all. "We have all weekend."