My Daughter's Best Friend Ch. 01

My daughter Sarah had known Angela since the beginning of high school, but it had only been since the beginning of their senior year that they'd become close friends.

Partners, whether it's in friendships or romances, specialize. My daughter was the bright, bookish, responsible, slightly shy one with a surprisingly dry sense of humor for an eighteen-year-old. Angela was the vivacious, outgoing, adventurous and flitatious one.

She was flirtatious with me too, but I knew that Angela flirted like a boxer does push-ups: just to keep in that constant state of readiness for the actual event. So I playfully flirted back.

I enjoyed it, of course. She had a cute, ripe, young body -- petite with small but perky tits and red hair. "It's DYED, Daddy," my daughter noted with rolled eyes when I commented on it once. But I didn't care a bit.

My daughter alternated summers living with me and her mother. In the summer in between their senior year and college, she was with me, so I saw a lot of Angela. Her attention to me seemed to increase. At the beginning of the summer, when she came to pick up my daughter, Angela would first come find me and make small talk, giggle and flirt for a couple of minutes. After a week or so, she was sitting down with me to talk, and my daughter would have to come find her so they could go out. A bit longer after that, it became a running gag between us how my daughter had to pull Angela by the arm to get her away from me.

Sometimes when Angela wasn't there, my daughter would complain, half seriously: "Daaaady, quite flirting with Angela! It's...well, WEIRD!"

"We just do it because we know it bugs you," I said, smirking. But I was also blushing as I said it, because I knew that wasn't the only reason.

One day Angela showed up, just quipped "Hi Professor," and then got Sarah and headed out the door. I have to admit that, after the door closed behind them, I felt a bit disappointed, but I reminded myself that she was just my daughter's teenage friend and I had no right to expect her attention. I tried to focus on what I had been reading.

Then I heard the front door open again. "Professor, it's Angela! I forgot my cell phone in Sarah's room! I'm just gonna run up and get it, okay?" There was a pause. Then she added, "Sarah is in the car. She'll be outside."

Was that a trembling in her voice? I heard her short, pretty legs trot up the stairs. I thought of the ridiculously short skirts she wore that showed off her jogger's calves.

My body went on auto-pilot. I walked over to the stairs and was waiting as she came down. She walked toward me slowly, watching my face and smiling. She had the facial expression of a girl who knows she is just about to be asked to the prom by the guy she wanted. I noticed that running up and down the stairs seemed to have left her breathing suspiciously quickly for a jogger.

We turned so that she was in between me and the wall. I put my arm on the wall and leaned over her. She rested her back against the wall and looked up at me. "See?" she said nervously. "Cell phone. Right here."

I stared into her eyes. She was still smiling but I could feel her melting deliciously under my gaze. "What else did you come back for?"

"What do you think?"

I leaned in and kissed her. The kiss was like a shock that stunned us both. The next think I knew we were wrapped in each other's arms, passionately kissing while my hips ground hers against the wall. She was an impressively good kisser for someone so young. Her agile tongue responded expertly and imaginatively to my own.

HONNNNNNNNNK! My daughter was leaning on the horn outside. Angela's cell-phone ploy had only bought us a couple of minutes alone.

I quickly grabbed a piece of paper and scribbled my cell-phone number. "Here, call the house when you know Sarah's not here, or call my cell any time."

She nodded quickly as she rearranged her clothes and smoothed her hair. I added, "We can't let Sarah find out. I think it would, I don't know, make her, uh--"

"Freak out?" Angela interjected with a smile.

"Yeah, freak out." I swatted Angela smartly on the ass. "Now get out there and act innocent!"

"Yes, sir, Professor!" I watched as Angela went out the door, adding an extra sashay to her walk.

I knew it would be hard for Angela to get away to see me. She and my daughter Sarah had become close friends, so Sarah was used to being with her during most of her free time (in the way of those intense teenage friendships).

But the day after our first kiss, Sarah came home with Angela and announced, "Hey Dad! Angela had a good idea: I'm gonna look for a summer job to make some extra money for college." Angela's lips were tight. She was obviously trying not to smirk about finding a way to keep Sarah occupied part of the time. I couldn't resist teasing her, though.

"Hey, that's a great idea, darling. But why isn't Angela looking for a job too? Maybe you two could waitress together or something?"

Angela's expression was priceless! Fortunately, she was standing behind Sarah, so Sarah couldn't see her face. Sarah replied dryly, "I think Angela is planning on getting job as a paid...oh what's the expression? Slut!"

Angela playfully punched Sarah in the arm and said, "Shut up and let's go look online for jobs for you like you said we were going to!"

As soon as they were in Sarah's room, I overheard her say, "Okay, go flirt with my Dad while I find a few places to apply to." Angela just giggled at first, but Sarah insisted: "Since when are you shy about flirting with my Dad? You do it every time we're here."

I heard the clack of Sarah's fingers on her keyboard as Angela walked into the den. "Hi Professor," she said nervously.

"Hi Angela! How's your summer going?" I gestured for her to stand closer.

"Good. Fine. Good." She was standing right in front of me. The sexual tension hung in the air. The clacking of computer keys stopped. We both looked toward the door. Then the sound of typing resumed. Angela turned back toward me. "It's killing me not being able to touch you," she whispered.

"Me too." Then in my regular voice I said, "Yeah, uh, do you know what dorm you'll be staying at in the fall?" I looked at her pretty legs, which I could see almost completely thanks to her ridiculously short skirt. I reached out and ran my fingertips up the outside of her thigh. She closed her eyes and took a deep breath.

I was impressed that she managed to keep a normal tone in her voice as she said, "The freshman dorm."

"Oh, the freshman dorm? I guess that would be because, uh, you'll be a freshman." My hand circled around to the inside of her thigh and my finger tips caressed up and down, coming just to the hem of her skirt. She bit her lip.

She kept up the normal tone of voice: "Yeah I think that's the way they do it. They put the freshmen in the freshmen dorm." She pulled the edge of her skirt up just a little bit more. It was only slightly below her pussy now. I wondered whether she was wearing any panties.

"So there are no upperclassmen in the freshman dorm?" I said. Then I whispered, "Show me. Show me it all."

"I can't," she whimpered softly. Then in her regular voice she said, "Yeah, I mean, right, no upperclassman in the freshman dorm." I could tell from her tone and her facial expression that she wasn't inhibited because of Sarah being in the next room (although if either of us had an ounce of common sense that WOULD have been holding us back). It was just too much for her to stand in front of a fully clothed man twice her age and, in the bright light of his den, pull up her skirt like a whore. Despite her obvious sexual experience, she was still an eighteen-year-old girl.

"Uh huh. Do they have a, whatchacallit, dining hall?" I looked sternly into her eyes, and my voice was quiet but commanding: "I said DO it."

She melted under my gaze and voice. She watched me intently as she pulled her skirt up, exposing her shaved pussy, its lips like rose petals covered in dew, open with lust. "Yeah, they have a dining hall, but they call it a 'caferia.'"

"They call it a 'cafeteria,' you say? I guess some schools do that." My fingertips slid up to the folds of her sweet, young, ripe pussy. At first I gently teased the folds even further open. It was easy; she was so slick with cream. Then I found her clit and caressed it, barely touching as my fingers slid over it. She mouthed, "Oh my God...." Soon her hips were grinding in the most deliciously wanton way.

I was seized with an almost overwhelming urge to take her, then and there. My lust spoke to me: Fuck her. Fuck the little slut. This is your house. If you want to fuck her you're entitled. She's a dirty little bitch who needs fucked, and your cock is hungry for her. Take her! Show her who she belongs to!

In an effort to resist this urge, I tried to remind myself of the consequences if my daughter walked in and found me mounting her best friend on the floor of the den.

Oh, God help me. Why did the thought of being discovered like that turn me on even more?

I quickly inserted two fingers into her cunt. She threw her head back. She was aching to be penetrated like this. I was through being gentle and building up her passion slowly. If I wasn't going to fuck her, I needed to violate her with my fingers. I wanted to punish her for making me want her so much. I quickly put a third finger into her cunt and started slamming my hand in and out. I snarled at her sotto voce: "Does it hurt, bitch?" She just nodded, tears starting to form in her eyes, but her hips pushed desperately back against my hand. "Good. I'm glad it hurts you. You deserve it." She quickly nodded.

"Angela, what kind of place is The End Inn?" It was Sarah yelling from the next room.

Angela gulped, coughed slighty and said, "It's, uh, it's a pretty nice restaurant." I showed her no mercy: I kept reaming her cunt out with my fingers.

"So it's not like a bed and breakfast or something?"

I shoved a fourth finger into her, then grabbed her tight little ass so that I could pound her even harder. The cream was running down between her thighs and her nipples poked against her blouse. "It's not a bed and breakfast, no. It's a regular restaurant. Yeah, I would definitely apply there. Good tips, I'm guessing."

Angela's small frame was shaking because of how hard I was finger-fucking her. Was she enjoying it? Honestly, at that point I didn't care. My lust had taken over, and I just knew I was going to take what I wanted. I stopped the rhythmic fingering and began to slowly push and twist my fingers further into her. I soon had a couple of my nuckles inside her, and I kept pushing. She whimpered softly, "Ohmigod. What are you doing to me? My pussy's never felt like this. So intense...."

She suddenly grabbed my shoulders and her tiny hands squeezed me frantically. I felt her pussy seize my hand as she came. Her body writhed. The orgasm seemed to wrack her whole body. She held her breath so she didn't make a sound, which I'm sure made it even more intense.

When it was over her mouth was hanging open as she panted and she blinked her eyes hard, like she was trying to bring them back into focus. I gave her just a moment to catch her breath, then slowly removed my hand and put my fingers in her mouth. She hungrily licked them clean without being told. Then I nodded toward the box of tissues on the table. She wiped dry my fingers and her thighs.

We heard Sarah's voice from the next room. "Hey Angela, where do you want to go for lunch? I mean, unless you'd prefer some of my Dad's peanut butter and jelly sandwiches."

Angela was looking at me thoughtfully. She absently said to Sarah, "Yeah."

"Huh?"

"I mean, yeah, wherever you want to go." We heard Sarah getting ready to leave. Angela leaned down so that her face was right in front of mine. We looked into each other's eyes. She cradled my cheek with her hand, then slowly leaned in to kiss me. It was a long kiss, but gentle and romantic.

When she pulled back and looked into my eyes again, I almost said, "Yeah, me too." Almost. Instead I just smiled sadly and touched her cheek. She nodded, gave me a sad smile back, slowly turned and walked out of the room.

"How about Chinese?" I heard her ask Sarah.