Tall Sophie Ch. 03

It was Sunday afternoon and Tom Douglas sat in his guest cottage reviewing a report on emerging market debt trends prepared by one of his analysts. The cottage was tucked into the back of his yard and served as his home office. An antique Shaker dining table functioned as his desk and was located in front of a big picture window in the unit's small kitchen. In the same lofty room, about ten feet behind him, was an inviting king-size bed where he occasionally stole a nap. The bed was framed by symmetrical nightstands and a vaulted ceiling that made it look like a bedroom at a high-end safari lodge in a travel magazine. He thought of it as his escape, a place he could go to unwind from his day-to-day challenges, which lately felt intractable.

Over a week had passed since his humiliating encounter with his daughter's friend, Sophie, during a group dinner at a local restaurant. Earlier that evening, the 6'4" teen volleyball star had anointed him team mascot and picked him up off his feet in front of her teammates during the post-game celebration. Then, after insisting he take them out to dinner, she emasculated him in an arm wrestling match - twice. Finally, she had tricked him into sitting on her lap, where she teased him until he ejaculated in his pants. To top it off, she had dumped a root beer float in his lap just as he began cumming, ruining his orgasm.

In retrospect, he realized the root beer float may have saved him from dire consequences. His sexual climax was quite out of control and would likely have been obvious to the five other 18-year-old girls at the table, including his daughter Lauren. Instead he looked like he was reacting to the shock of the cold liquid in his crotch.

For the first few days after the incident he felt overwhelmed with resentment and experienced a sexual void. Prior to the restaurant he had been unable to control himself, masturbating to images of the teen goddess practically as fast as he could recover from his last release. In his first encounter with her, she had given him a piggyback ride on a dare at his daughter's sleepover party and he had spurted in his pants on her back, thankfully without the other guests noticing. While he was ashamed to admit it, it had been the most exciting moment of his life. The girl was the hottest, most complete package of a woman he had ever encountered: Amazonian stature, beautiful face, killer body and devastatingly strong. She played precisely to Tom's suppressed fetishes around height difference, lift and carry, and female dominance in general.

Yet she had since shown herself to be brilliantly manipulative, luring him into compromising situations and dangerous predicaments that could cost him his job, marriage, reputation, and relationship with his daughter. Despite his lust, he loathed her for humiliating him and putting him at risk. He had built a career in economics helping banks manage risk and he found it ironic and infuriating that a teenage girl could make him gamble with the most important aspects of his life. He had resolved that he must avoid her at all costs and do everything possible to put an end to the strange relationship. For three days he refused to let himself masturbate and worked hard to clear his mind of her.

At Lauren's next volleyball game, ignoring Sophie entirely was more challenging due to her commanding presence on the floor. Her physicality alone gave him flutters as he watched, much less her exceptional beauty. He continued to lead the cheering section as she had prodded him to do, but it felt increasingly natural as Lauren had quickly established herself as the team's second star. The two girls had become a dynamic duo, with Lauren leading the team in digs and assists, while Sophie dominated in kills, blocks, aces and practically everything else.

When the game had ended, he managed to avoid Sophie, making an excuse to Lauren about being behind at work (which was partly true) so he could leave before the girls finished their post-game activities. The next game that week followed the same pattern.

He had also been regularly checking Instagram to make sure Sophie and her friends hadn't posted any videos from the restaurant. Fortunately, his plea not to record him had worked. But he couldn't quite bring himself to mute Sophie's posts and several tantalizing new images appeared in his feed. One showed her wearing a tight dress and standing with a short male classmate, hugging him to her, his head practically mashed into her breast. Another showed her in uniform effortlessly holding a volleyball teammate in a cradle carry, like a little baby.

As the week wore on and images streamed in, he began to feel urges. Seeing Sophie at the games reminded him how hard she was to resist. Watching her online reinforced it. Through sheer will power, he managed to avoid masturbating most of the time, but by midweek he had begun to succumb when he was alone, particularly during evenings in his home office.

Tom looked back toward the large bed and imagined the first time he met Sophie, how she had sat on the mattress and made suggestive comments about bringing a date to the room. As he thought of her, he imagined himself sitting on her lap, her strong arms holding him to her. His cock hardened as he envisioned her standing up and cradling him securely in her arms, in a coddling and protective embrace.

He was interrupted from his daydream by his phone alarm sounding to remind him about a football game in a few minutes. Tampa Bay was playing at 4:00 pm and he wanted to see Tom Brady in action. Pushing Sophie out of his mind, he turned and looked through the door to the empty room on his left. In addition to a bathroom door and closet on that wall, the doorway nearest him led to a cozy annex that he had yet to furnish. I should really make that into a man-cave, he briefly fantasized, with a big LED TV, comfy recliner, sports memorabilia...maybe a dart board.

He looked back at the draft analysis and knew he should stay and finish. He was starting to get behind on some projects at work, partly due to his mind constantly wandering with thoughts of Sophie. He scolded himself for the unhealthy obsession. Yet she had gotten to him again, he reasoned, may as well let football take my mind off her and pick up again in the evening.

Tom closed up his laptop and walked across the lawn to the main house. He took a deep breath of the 70-degree air, savoring the perfect September weather. Lisa was out for the day and Lauren had said she would be studying, so he assumed the television would be available. As he kicked off his shoes on entering the house, he realized he hadn't relieved himself in several hours, so went straight to the lavatory. As he walked through the door, he scarcely noticed a pair of shoes on the floor; leopard print ballet flats that looked to be quite long. He closed the door, opened his button-fly jeans and took a whizz, sighing as the pressure dissipated. After flushing, he turned toward the sink and froze. A lightweight hot pink sweater and a long pair of stretchy-looking jeans with an off-white rhinestone belt were hanging on a hook on the back of the door.

Lauren must have a friend over, he thought. Then he wondered if they were Sophie's and he felt a quick rush of adrenaline; partly from the anxiety of wanting to avoid her, but primarily from the deviant impulse that being alone with her clothes stirred in him. He took a step closer to the door and sniffed near the sweater. He suddenly felt lightheaded and looked down to see his phallus jutting out above his open fly. Sophie's wonderful scent permeated the garment.

He reached up and rubbed his hands along the soft fabric. The memory of sitting on her lap and leaning against her breasts invaded his brain. He put his face against the collar and inhaled. Her sweet essence flooded his nose, and he imagined his face buried in her neck while riding on her back. He leaned in harder and flinched as his exposed cock rubbed her pant leg. A bolt of pleasure ripped through his body. His hips gyrated slowly into the jeans as he imagined himself standing next to her statuesque form dressed in the tight pants and pink sweater.

Abruptly the garments fell to the floor in a heap. He cursed at his carelessness. The surprise brought his rational thoughts back to the fore. This is so perverted, he lamented, willing himself to stop. He bent down to pick up the pile of clothing to hang back up and froze again. A bra strap was sticking out from under the shirt.

Feeling like a teenage boy discovering his older sister's lingerie drawer, he pulled on the strap and lifted the bra out of the pile. He first examined the cups. The centers were cream-colored and felt silky to the touch, while the edges were trimmed in a pretty lace. There were no underwires or pads. He used his fingers to open the negative space and melon-sized voids appeared. Then he pulled a cup to his face and slipped part of his head inside to further visualize the size. His nose registered a deeper musk and his body shuddered as Sophie's remnant pheromones caused his cock to bounce repeatedly in the air.

Recalling his teenage fascination with bra size he pulled the bra off his head and probed along the thin lace straps for the label. He let out a sigh when he read 38DD. He already knew her tits were huge, but the statistic still added to his arousal.

His size fetish was tickled, and he decided to pick up her jeans. He held them up to his front and looked in the mirror. The belt on the waist came up nearly to his nipples, causing him to feel woozy. He took a step back to maintain his balance and felt his sock-clad foot touch one of the shoes. With the sudden eagerness of a child finding a bag of candy, he repositioned the shoe and slipped his foot inside. It was several sizes too large for him and he slid his foot back and forth to absorb the comparison. His cock throbbed uncontrollably as he immediately flashed back to an image of his childhood, flopping around in his mother's shoes.

He set the jeans on the sink edge and, while still holding the bra in one hand, bent down to pick up the other long, pointy-toed shoe. With a sense of anticipation, he brought the opening to his nose and took a deep breath. He was transported again to his childhood and a long-forgotten memory of sitting behind a couch with a neighbor girl, smelling each other's feet and experiencing a puzzling stiffness in his penis. The odor was even more musky, with a hint of sweat, but also distinctively Sophie.

Lost in euphoria, he brought the bra to his crotch and slipped his cock into one of the cups. He registered with excitement that his entire length fit inside. He stroked slowly, wrapping the silky material around his sensitive skin. It reminded him of how his hands and cock felt rubbing against Sophie's silk pajamas. Inhaling again inside the shoe, he silently chided himself for trying to deny the obvious pleasure she had given him - and could still give him - whether in reality, or vicariously through fantasy. He visualized himself riding on her back again, feeling her firm breasts in his hands. Then his toes curled inside the oversized shoe and he had a sudden desire to bow on the ground in front of her and kiss her feet. His breathing grew heavy and he felt his semen begin to rise. A voice inside told him not to cum in her bra, but he wanted to so desperately...

Knock, knock!

Tom froze, his impending orgasm suddenly truncated as a knot appeared in the pit of his stomach. He dropped the shoe in surprise and heard a light clunk.

"Just a sec," he called in a weak voice.

Shit, he thought to himself, how could I be so stupid. Imagine if someone had walked in!

He quickly grabbed the jeans from the sink and the belt buckle dinged against the porcelain. The light tap sounded like a church bell to Tom, who had become a bundle of nerves. Then, as he hung the jeans on the door hook, the belt grazed along the wood, issuing a screeching sound that reminded him of nails scraping a chalkboard. Finally, he hung the bra and picked up the pink sweater to hang over it. He swiftly kicked the shoes back to where he remembered them and moved to grab the door handle.

Then he stopped. His cock was hanging out, still semi-hard. With a sigh of relief, he tucked it in his briefs and re-buttoned the fly. Regaining his senses, he remembered to flush the toilet and wash his hands to complete the appearance of normalcy.

He opened the door with a rushed "Sorry!" and nearly ran into Sophie. She towered over him in a loose black t-shirt tied above the waist exposing her bellybutton and defined abs. FCUK was written across her prominent bust in bold white letters. He flinched at the insinuation despite knowing the irreverent misspelling stood for French Connection UK, from when his wife forbade Lauren to wear a similar shirt.

With a brief scan of her body, he noticed white spandex boyshorts and white Nike athletic shoes with barely visible white ankle socks. He looked up at her face and felt like he was two feet tall as she cast an annoyed glare at him. He worried he looked like a guilty dog caught in an incriminating act. His body stiffened while he stared into her eyes for a sign that she suspected what he was doing in the bathroom.

"Ahem," Sophie cleared her throat.

He suddenly realized he was standing in her way and scampered aside to let her by. She shook her head slightly and her ponytail bobbed from side to side, accentuating her disdain.

As the bathroom door closed behind him, he noticed Lauren and Elle walk in.

"Hey Dad! Whatcha doing?" Lauren asked sweetly.

"Umm," he hesitated briefly in panic, then realized the question was innocent. "I was just getting ready to catch a football game."

"Oh. Well, the girls and I were wondering if you'd like to play basketball? We've been shooting around and playing HORSE but we really need a fourth. None of our other friends we texted could come over."

"Well, I'm not really dressed for it and I kind of wanted to watch Tom Brady..."

"You can go change, silly! And you can set the DVR or just catch the highlights..."

"I'm not sure he's feeling well," Sophie interrupted behind him to his surprise, having just exited the lavatory. "I had to wait, like forever, to get in the bathroom."

His stomach dropped at the thought that she had been standing there the whole time.

"Besides, I don't want to embarrass your dad again, Lauren," Sophie continued as she walked past him, slightly bumping his arm. "Men can have such fragile egos."

Tom's blood boiled at the insinuation and he instinctively took a step toward her. Lauren glared at him.

"Nonsense. He looks fine. And he's a good player, he taught me everything I know," Lauren said, smiling at him. "And if you're really so concerned, maybe you guys can be on the same team? Frankly, I don't like all this competitive tension between two of my favorite people."

So...Lauren had noticed some of his awkward dynamics with Sophie, he thought to himself, but she interpreted it as rivalry. In her innocence she had never once suspected his out-of-control infatuation with her friend. She would be devastated if she knew all that had happened. At least I don't have to disappoint her now, he resolved.

"I'm game," he said confidently, flashing a glance to Sophie who shrugged. "I can catch the highlights later. Just give me a minute to change."

"Awesome, we'll see you outside!" Lauren responded.

Tom ran upstairs to change his clothes. He put on a t-shirt and before slipping on his thin nylon jogging shorts, he considered putting on his jockstrap to restrain his member. Fuck it, he cursed to himself, I can handle this. He grabbed some tennis shoes and trotted downstairs.

As Tom walked outside, he took a moment to appreciate the lucky find the new house had been. Besides doing a bang-up job on the guest cottage, the prior owners had painted a high school regulation half-court on the driveway, complete with a top-of-the-line in-ground hoop. His athletic daughter had been sold before they even stepped inside. He had hoped it would help draw friends over for Lauren and, despite his anxiety over Sophie, he felt a small sense of satisfaction that it had.

Sophie drilled a three as he walked up, demonstrating perfect form on her jumper. She ran up to grab the bouncing ball, then turned and saw him approach.

"Okay folks. We're playing to 15, two points behind the arc, one point for everything else, single shot on fouls," Sophie rattled off the game parameters. "Lauren and Elle, you'll be shirts, we'll be skins."

As she said it she flicked her suggestive shirt over her head and looked toward him with a nod. He stared at her dumbstruck with his cock beginning to grow. Instead of the full compression sports bra he had seen her flash at a volleyball game, she wore a white spandex top that was just short of being a bikini. Her large breasts were held in individual cups with a deep V in the center exposing considerable cleavage. Thin white straps led from the top of the cups diagonally toward her neck, highlighting her broad, muscular shoulders.

"Unless your dad is too shy to show off his physique," Sophie added, turning toward Lauren with a half-smile.

As she turned, he saw that the two straps came over her back and crisscrossed below her neck. They continued diagonally to a horizontal elastic band that circled her chest, the only feature that seemed to qualify it as a sports bra. The design made the bra mostly backless.

"Uh, no it's fine," he blurted out while fumbling to take his shirt off and willing his cock to stay down. He dropped his shirt on the grass and walked toward the girls.

"Looks like you need to get your dad out here more often, Lauren," Sophie chided, lightly slapping his ample belly with a back-hand so his fat jiggled. "This will be good for him."

His face flushed. She was right, of course, but her way of calling it out was so degrading.

"Okay, that's enough Sophie," Lauren pleaded with a smile. "You guys are on the same team, remember?"

"Fine. Let's do this," Sophie responded with her game face on. "Our ball."

As she said it, she threw a hard pass into Tom's stomach. He scarcely had time to react as it briefly knocked the wind out of him, but he still managed to hold on. With his hard-on now gone, he started to dribble and saw Sophie waving for a pass. He bounced it skillfully past Elle who was guarding her and she quickly tossed it in for a lay-up.

"1-0," Sophie called, tossing the ball over to Lauren.

Then she walked toward him and gave him a friendly high-five and a smile. He felt a glow inside, knowing he had done well. They continued to play a competitive game, with him setting up Sophie in the paint and Lauren answering with jump shots. He still noticed Sophie's barely covered physique, but the intensity of the game kept him from getting too aroused.

With the game 10-10, Sophie took another pass and dribbled toward the net, then faked a shot and tossed it back to Tom behind the arc. He drained it to make the score 12-10. She flashed a huge smile and gave him a tight squeeze around his shoulders from the side. He understood what it felt like to be her teammate, how truly motivating she could be. Pleasing her felt like a million dollars.

He accidentally fouled Lauren on the next shot. During the free throw, he observed Sophie was sweating through the front of her bra and the outline of her shapely breasts was beginning to show through the thin fabric. He drank in her whole body and became excruciatingly aware of the whiteness of her clothing. Her bra, shorts, shoes and even socks were all the same solid, bright white. When he squinted, he could imagine her nude form, deftly gliding around the court. Her black shirt had originally concealed the striking effect.