Waiting with My Friend's Father Pt. 02

"--Sara, Sara. Storms are brewing in your eyes." Mike sang, clomping steps around the sofa.

"Sara, Sara. No time is a good time for goodbyes." My eyes widened at the eeriness of the song he was singing to. He towered over beside me, next to the armchair. With a deep observant gaze contrasted by the orange dim light, he reached in and took me from under my arms. Like a rag doll, he threw my ninety-eight pound limb body over his shoulder, effortlessly. Black spots erupted, along with a continuous piercing bell coursing through my ears. The end of my dress was damp and crinkled against my skin, Mike's hand held the top of my back leg, where I could feel the tips of his fingers manipulate my compressed clit.

With every thud he took, and the further and higher we went, the more it was obvious where he was taking me. I reached out with an inaudible shriek as he swung me past Rachel's bedroom. The brown door with a "Do Not Disturb." sign was closed but I could smell the familiarity and safety inside. And in we went, into the master suite where he laid me across the king sized bed, then lifted me up to lay in position of someone's side. Like the rag doll I was, he propped me up and unzipped my dress from behind, and appreciated the moment of exposing my bare shoulders and matching bra to my striped panties. With the dress I was ready to burn if I ever made it out of this alive, hanging around my waist, black thick cord appeared in his strong tight hands. He began wrapping it two-three times around both my small wrists before laying me down on a higher pillow, bounding me to the headboard. Off slipped the once innocence of my yellow and blue floral dress, then my white sandals he unstrapped. I couldn't help but fear how long I would be left in my underwear for. Fifteen, twenty minutes? The voice of his lie repeated. He exited the room and traipsed downstairs.

My legs were free, though just as feeble as the rest of my useless self. He must have drugged me with that hot chocolate, that must be it! That's why he made me one despite me half refusing... Was this my fault? Would this have happened if I said no to the drink? Was I unknowingly asking for this? I took an unsteady deep breath. My ribs sunk inwardly again, most likely anxiety from the apprehension of what this man had planned for me next. Fifth base? Was that even a thing? I fell even more numb than I had just a few seconds ago.

Before I headed out of my house, I remembered I told my dad that if I didn't make it back in time it meant I was staying over at Rachel's house. My parents were cool with the idea, and why wouldn't they be? It's the weekend and we only lived a block away from each other. Fuck, fuck, fuck. Sweat and tears trailed, every pulse in my body pounded from realization that I was going to be trapped for the night, with no one looking for me, worried about me, and for the next-- I shot my eyes in search for a clock that I quickly spotted standing on the dresser table, alongside a flat screen television. It had just turned 10:32pm. Oh my God.

Creaky floorboards came from the stairs and with no surprise, Mike came from the corner empty handed, which was more of a relief than I expected it to be. But he was still wearing those gloves...

"Relaxed? You will be soon, more than you know."

"Please," I breathed. "don't." I pleaded to scream at him, to promise I wouldn't tell anyone about this and what he had already done to me, though I'd be lying if I had.

"Don't, don't what? Don't do this?" He skimmed his rubber finger along the edge of the silk sheets, nonchalantly ambling his way around the bed. "Oh, Sarah, Sarah, Sarah. Once I start," He lowered his head and scoffed and leveled it back up with his eyes. Peering right into mine. "You'll be begging for more. Just like you did downstairs."

"N- no. No!" Gut-wrenching sobs tore through my torso and fresh tears flowed.

"Yes." He objected, eyes fixed onto mine. He rolled up his long, button sleeves and kicked his black trainers off that thudded on the wood beneath him, not once prying his eyes from me.

"Yes." He climbed onto the end of the bed on all four, directly opposite my immobile body, indenting the mattress with each prowl.

"Yes." He grabbed my ankles, clinging onto my skin.

His "Yes." became more thirsty, more inpatient. He crawled closer, parting my legs, he lifted them over his shoulders which raised my ass from the bed, whipping my spine lower into the sheets as he sat on his knees.

"Yes." Up cocked his right brow. He languidly stroked the fine line of my slit from top to end just before he tugged my panties under and over my legs, exposing the cold, sticky evidence of what he had previously done to me, blending in with exuding fresh fluids.

"Just not wet enough. I guess I'll have to do better this time."

With a sniff, he jerked out my drenched panties from each ankle separately and tossed them on the floor. I sucked air through my teeth from anticipation. Was this fear or was this excitement? I didn't know the difference at this point. I had officially fucking lost it. I felt the tip of the latex insert me, spreading my folds, slowly and without my control, sliding in deeper and deeper, reaching my g-spot.

"So tight. You won't be for long, baby." It stopped, he held his finger in the core, gaping for a moment or two and I knew why. Goddammit, I knew. He wanted me to beg and I expected my throbbing clitoris would have been a straight forward, visual answer, but no, his round blue eyes were telling me otherwise. I can't. It would be wrong of me to. Unforgivable. There's noway in--

"Ye- yes." Tired ragged gasps escaped my lungs, I surrendered and groaned as his smooth finger steadily slipped out and in for a second round, then a third and fourth in swift motions. I bucked my hips with the shock of an extra finger squeezing inside, my slit being forced to stretch even further apart. I was close to whatever it was I was experiencing-- enjoying. Was this an orgasm? His pace quickened, pumping in and out, in and out, in and out while the heel of his palm did something else to my pubic bone. Rubbing back and forward in a rocking motion. The latex squeaking from perspiration. My ragged breathing turned into shaky, short little spurts.

"Yes." I repeated, untold, licking my dry lips.

"Oh... yes." He repeated, wickedly.

A tingling tenderness swallowed every muscle, tensing me limb to limb. I whimpered and moaned once more from Mike's irresistible digits, abusing my insides and destroying my dignity. We were moving together concurrently and I felt myself shudder... nothing else mattered, I didn't care where I was or who was doing this to me. I wanted this. I needed this. And in those last odd seconds, I was seized by a rush of sensation so severe I screamed weary in ecstasy. My head rocked back as I collapsed, breathless and exhausted. I felt free. With closed eyes I bit the corner of my lip with undeniable pleasure.

"Good girl."

None of this made clear sense to me but I was going with it, I was too fatigued, too consumed by corruption to argue with myself for unanswered questions. Mike laboriously climbed atop and straddled me, his weight leaning on his knees and carves. He bent down and buried his hands under my back where I heard a click and a feeling of relief on my ribs. He drew away my bra and roughly tied the straps around my wrists with the black cord. He peeled strips of my darkened, damp hair off from face where my musty sweat had stuck.

"Shhh." Mike lowered himself further and caressed his large, convulse hands over my erected nipples. He targeted one and traced a circle around the areola, clinging the frail skin, then he gently kissed my nipple. Placing his full lips over he began to suck while one hand engulfed my waist and the other squeezed my other cold nipple. My swollen clit was still aching and throbbing beneath me. How long was this feeling supposed to last?

Mike gagged me abruptly with his right fore finger. "Come on, baby. Come on. Show daddy you can suck." He thrust a second finger and I heaved, sucking and licking and groaning all at once. The taste of the latex consuming my throat. It reminded me of being leveled back in a dental chair and having tight rubber fingers running across the rims of my gums. In this case, my throat. I can't say the thought of fondling my tongue on my dentists fingers never crossed my mind. Maybe it was the taste, or perhaps the idea of the latex sliding throughout my mouth. Gagging me. The smoothness of them. How they seemed so commanding and mysterious. When I was fifteen, I once had this dirty thought. I was laying on the dental chair, the bright florescent light beaming down on my pale face while Dr. Keen had his finger in my mouth, examining a cavity. I craved he would nether his waxy fingers down my throat, dominate me, haul up my skirt and force his hand down my knickers, telling me,

"This is just the procedure." and take me then and there. But then I recalled that my mom was sitting in the room with me, luckily with her head absorbed in an old magazine. The fantasy quickly vanished into thin air and my cheeks flushed red. But that was just a harmful fantasy. We fantasize but that doesn't mean we want them to happen. No matter how insane they are, right?

"Good girl, Sarah." He released me panting dry.

"Daddy's proud." He kissed me and I could feel myself joining, leaving my saliva attached to his finger to glide across my cheekbone and travelling onto my left breast. Without thinking, I bit his lip softly, playfully, and he stuck his tongue inside my mouth, colliding with my own eagerness. I didn't understand why I was participating in such a disgusting crime of his, allowing him-- giving him full permission to devour my innocence. The firmness of his lips became empowered and I was unable to move rhythmically with him. He lowered his saturated lips to my jawline, with a continuous lick down my chest, past my nipple, to my belly button and to my pubic bone.

He yanked my knees over his shoulders, slanted his face, demanding I arch to his level as he held my thighs and... and... Impaled his twitchy, cool and soaking tongue inside my clit, opening the labia. His wide tongue wriggled, I could feel his lips pressing and sucking the outside, almost like he was kissing my pussy around my engorged nub. I peaked between my glistening breasts where he had left his saliva marks, and all I could see were my pale, bare legs resting on his checked, navy shirt, and a head of hair separating my inner thighs. I began weakly pulling my arms from my restraints, longing to hold his head and press harder. Harder was what I wanted, was what I yearned for. For him to go deeper. Then those pants fled my moist lips.

"Ha-Hard--" In no second delay, he squeezed my skin, pinching with the rubber and rammed himself further and hastened. His elongated tongue probed back and forth viciously, slurping and drenching me in wetness. One hand freed my outer thigh and without warning, two dominating fingers penetrated themselves into my clit where his tongue was. In one or two long, mind blowing jerks he removed them, sticking his tongue and squashing his nose back into it's place. Rubber promptly slapped my ass cheek and squeezed, nearing to open my anus where his lubricated fingers hungrily shoved themselves in. I groused and resisted my pelvis in response, struggling in my restraints. His broad tongue and overlarge fingers torturing every hole, and I still wasn't sure if I was truly enjoying this or if I was enjoying his exploitation too much. I was leaking like I never had before, quivering from lassitude, at least that's what I hoped. The idea of it throbbing so painfully terrified me to believe that maybe what he said was true. You'll be begging for more.

The squelching of his lengthy tongue and lips clashing with my juices was strangely arousing. Then, that same sensation was recharging itself. The tensing of my muscles grew tighter and tighter with each flick to my nub and them thick fingers injecting in and out of me.

"Yes!" No! The feeling almost felt more exhilarate then the first time, was that even possible? The plunging hotness invaded both holes, and I felt the double pleasure possessing me. I pulled in a lungful of air, my toes clenching. Wonderful waves of sheer intolerable ecstasy flooded me and I was yet again fighting for oxygen, I could hear from beneath me that Mike was too. No words were spoken, just harsh pants surrounding the deafening room. He removed his fingers from my asshole and kissed my slit with a teasing flick and graze from his nose, blowing labored breaths as he stood up from the bed. Tissue ruffled and I saw Mike wipe his nose, the corner of his mouth and hands with a satisfied smirk on his beetroot face. His sweaty tousled hair clung onto his shiny forehead.

"Enjoy that?" He asked, though to him it was more of a rhetorical question. I nodded automatically yet shamefully and sucked on my lip.

"Looks like I outdid our last session."

He moved his head to the side to examine his work. He was proud. My legs were left spread across the crimson silk bed sheets, undignified. He rotated to the wall behind him and tilted his neck down.

"It's 11:30pm. I have you for at least, say... eight hours?"

Eight hours? My heart sank at the thought of being bound to his wife's bed, dirty and saturated, and stark naked for the next eight hours, and being toyed with in the most pleasurable ways possible. I was too discombobulated to even know what I wanted, what I was feeling, not even fully recovered from that electrifying orgasm.

"Rachel and her mother won't be back until early afternoon tomorrow. And..." He paused and pulled out something from the back pocket of his pale blue jeans. It was my cell phone!

"Just before your treatment, you got a text from your mom. Goodnight, honey. Have a good time, see you when you get home. xox."

My jaw fell open, discomposed.

"Oh, you're so cute. Don't you worry. I searched through your previous text messages, you know, to see how you usually type. I gotta say though, you're one of few people who actually use correct spelling and punctuation these days, so, it was pretty easy. I knew we were home free when she replied with an X."

The glowing light from the screen blackened and was set on the dressing table for me to see.

"So," He clapped, the rubbing sticking together.

"How about another hot chocolate? It's going to be a long night." He said, adjusting his latex gloves. My throat was dry and bitter from all the panting. I was gasping for a drink. Mike was leaning on the door frame with that boyish grin of his, hovering those the two fingers he had used on me, under his nose. He sucked in a deep breath through his nostrils and his eyelids fell shut, taking in my scent.

"I told you I liked cream." He whispered. And before I knew it, he stepped into the hall and made his way gingerly downstairs where cutlery commenced.

TO BE CONTINUED...?