How I ended up in bed [F]ooling around with [M]y friend’s dad! Part 2 (At Long Last)

Hey everyone, long time no see. It’s me, Suzie. You may remember me[ posting this thread ages ago about me fucking my friend’s dad](https://www.reddit.com/r/gonewildstories/comments/cvvrd8/how_i_ended_up_in_bed_fooling_around_with_my/). I got an overwhelming and extremely positive feedback, and then my depression hit me like a 6 ton anchor and I wrote half of this, but lost the motivation to keep going and sort of retreated into myself. Anyway! I’m back now with a brand new banger, or at the very least, the sequel to the last story! The second time me and my friend’s dad smashed!

To re/answer a few questions from last time: No, my friend never found out. We were friends for a long while by this point, though at this point in our friendship and the distance that college created, our relationship had waned to some degree, though in the past 3-4 years we’ve actually reconnected and are very good friends now. I also only ever fucked her dad during that summer; afterwards, I left town and I never moved back, so I haven’t seen him since. Again also; this took place in America, and yes, he was married, though their marriage had a lot of tension and was not necessarily healthy one. And as always, I’m down to chat or talk to people about this stuff if anyone’s interested!

Apologies if the writing in this one isn’t as good as in the first, while my depression wasn’t heavy I rewrote the whole thing in one shot, and I’m not taking the time to edit it because I don’t want that depression to set back in and lead me to never posting it!

As a reminder, I was 19 when this story took place! Though I recommend reading the first post, honestly, since it’ll give a lot of details if you haven’t read it already!

And without further ado, let’s go~

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It’d been a few weeks since that night with J’s dad, and I had sort of been in a bit of a haze around it, not really talking to anyone about it (certainly not my boyfriend, who was blissfully unaware I had just cheated on him with a man probably twice his age), and J and I didn’t talk much on account of her having met a new boy at the party that I had to dip out on, who she was now seeing regularly and getting sort of integrated into his friend circle. In order to ease her transition into being his “cool girlfriend”, she decided to invite him and all of his friends over to her place for a pool party, especially because her parents were “cool” and didn’t give a shit if they drank or smoked weed. (Yes, this happened, and I know how cliche it all sounds.) She invited me to be there to keep things “chill” and as an out in case things blew up; I was often my friend’s emotional support crutch when things went wrong. I didn’t have much of a backbone, so I was always willing to drop everything and support them if something got fucked up.

Now recalling my description of myself; thin as a rail, small busted and tiny-assed, with acne and slightly greasy hair, pool parties were not really my idea of a good time. It meant being on public display to a lot of different people that I didn’t know, which felt humiliating and scary, especially because I didn’t love my body at that point in my life. But, because I was being asked to be there for my friend, I agreed. Also, because my friend was loaded and had a pool, which was always nice in the heat of the summer, and at the very least I got to be next to a body of water and out of my house, which was, in every way, worse than being embarrassed and somewhat exposed in front of people I didn’t know that my friend wanted to impress. That J’s father would be there was something on my mind that filled me with some amount of apprehension, but I pushed it and repressed it and tried to focus on just being the best friend I could be for her.

And best friend I was, even though she wasn’t my best friend. I got there early, we went shopping for snacks, we cooked together, we got everything set up. J’s father and I made eye contact a few times, but he never acted weird or untoward, completely normal, like he always had. I’m guessing he assumed, as I assumed, that it was a strange, one time thing, that would never happen again. The first few times I saw him I felt weird, but the hustle and rhythm of keeping busy made it sit firmly in the back of my head.

And then the party started, and people started filtering in. A few I knew, most I didn’t. And I quickly realized that I was out of place, that this wasn’t a party for me. This was hardly a party for J too; she was pretending to be someone she wasn’t, but she was always much more socially adept than I was. She could put on a mask to hide who she was, and to try to fit in, and I was awkward nerdy Suzie no matter what I did, and I tried to make small talk but I could tell, frankly, most of them weren’t so sure about me. It didn’t help that I dressed a little like a kid; I was one of the only women wearing one piece swimsuit, and with my lack of voluptuousness, it certainly didn’t engender me well to the rest of the crowd. When they were in the pool, I mostly just sort of tread water in the deep end and watched people fool around, and watched to make sure J was doing alright. I was an ever vigilant friend, at the cost of what felt a little bit like my dignity and my emotional energy. It was, to put it lightly, a deeply exhausting experience for me.

I felt further separated from the crowd when they started smoking weed; drinking, fine, and I had a Mike’s Hard and/or a Natty Ice, but at this point in my life, weed wasn’t really something I was interested in doing. I sat in the room with them for the first few times they all toked up, but eventually the smell and the smoke made me have to leave the room. The sun was setting by this point and I was completely drained, but even so, I was a good little friend and started cleaning up the party as the people who like me, weren’t super into weed, filtered out. J’s dad stepped in and helped me clean, and we had, frankly, or normal repore. I barely even thought about how he fucked me silly a mere few weeks back; maybe that I was deeply drunk at that point helped blunt those memories.

At long last I let myself rest and I sat down on a pool lounge chair thing – you know, the one with the white straps that aren’t really that comfortable but you can find at every single hotel pool. J’s dad sat next to me, and we watched the sun sink over the pool and over the horizon. We didn’t say anything to each other, and in my exhaustion, my brain started to wander to what I had done with him, and my emotions shifted from exhaustion to a mixture of shame, hyper-awareness of what happened, embarrassment, nervousness, and, as you can guess dear reader, arousal. I started to shake a little bit and I squeezed my fist tightly until I could get my breathing back under control.

J’s dad didn’t notice, I don’t think. There was still some cleaning left to do, and he had been reading a history book or something. After the sun set and the world blinked into darkness, he couldn’t read by the light any more and put the book down. He started to say something about us having to get ready to finish cleaning, but I was in my own little place in the world and didn’t actually make out what he said when he reached out to give me a friendly tap on the side of my arm to get my attention. The touch was warm, and it was electric, and I involuntarily let out the smallest of moans at finally receiving some kind of positive attention after the long day.

My mouth immediately clammed up and I shot a furtive glance. I looked over at him, my face as red and my heart ripping out of my heart. I started to mouth an apology as we made eye contact, but his hand slid up from my arm up to my shoulder, rubbing softly. My lips went from mouthing words of apology to just quivering as I gripped the chair. His hand slid further up to my face, cupping it gently before his thumb ran over my lips. I closed my eyes and stifled a groan as his hand moved back, in public, to rubbing my shoulder and I let out a contented, but hungry, sigh. I leaned back, slightly. It felt nice to be appreciated. It felt nice not to be judged for wearing my one piece swim suit, it felt nice not to feel like some idiot little friend that didn’t matter. His hand trailed my skin and pushed past said swimsuit and grabbed a handful of my young flesh, and I groaned openly. His thumb and forefinger found my nipple and pulled at it and I whimpered so loudly I was scared someone would hear, but if they did, nobody came. Another pull, another groan escaped my mouth, and his free thumb pressed against my lips and I embarrassingly slobbered on it. And then, as soon as it started his attentions were gone, and he pulled his hand from my swimsuit and his thumb from my mouth. I must have whimpered or shook. He gave me a smile and whispered. “At 12:30, you can wait for me in the pool bathroom.”

I dumbly nodded, as he stood up and went on his way. This time, of course, I was sober (mostly). This time, I knew what I was going to do, fully. And I still did it.

Those next few hours were, frankly, agonizing in all manner of ways. The anticipation was intense, but so was all the cleaning. It didn’t help that J and all her new friends were basically asleep by 11:30; they had all overdone it in their youthful exuberance, and J never bothered setting up a bed or a futon for me anyway, and there was nowhere for me to stay.

I took a walk around her block, trying to clear my head, but all I could think about was how her dad had ravaged me before, and that I was walking into it again. Like knowing you’re about to make a big mistake and choosing to do it anyway.

So when I got back to her place, I crossed the patio to the detached pool bathroom, still in my swimsuit, with its strange summer-weather decor, it’s 3 shower stalls, and it’s many drawers and dressers for towels and such. I left the lights off, and I sat there, in the darkness. I don’t know how long I waited; this was before I had a smartphone, at least, and I didn’t have anyone to text back then really anyway, not that I was interested in talking to.

So I sat, and I waited, and I thought. And then the door opened.

At first I was worried it wasn’t him, that it was someone else. I knew it was his frame, but that irrational, terror part of your brain can rule you.

He didn’t really say much, at this time. He walked over to me, guided me up by my hips and had me sit on the sink counter, and started kissing me. No hesitation, not this time. He was the aggressor, and the initiator. His lips were a little rough-but-soft, and I could smell that he had been doing some light drinking as well, possibly in the intermittent hours. He forced his tongue into my mouth and I let him, and I grasped his arms, but he shook my small hands off quickly, taking them gently and easing the straps of my one piece off, exposing my small breasts. He quickly gave them attention, continuing the risky teasing he gave me in public has his mouth pressed against mine, before breaking away and bringing his lips to my left breast, taking the nipple into his warm mouth. I gasped, and then again when he ran his teeth along it and bit it gently, but I threw my head back and moaned when he managed to suck the entirety of my small breast in his mouth, pressing his tongue against my nipple and flicking it. I still remember that trick, personally; I do it to basically every small breasted woman *I* sleep with.

He switched between breasts, and loved them for quite some time; though how long is impossible for me to know, I do remember that they were pretty sore by the time he was done. He picked me up and moved me from the countertop to a slightly-higher-than-waist sized bench that was also used as a massive Ottoman type thing which was also used to store towels. He pushed me back a little and my small back hit the backboard of the bathroom as he pulled my swimsuit off, lifting my little ass up to pull it off and toss it onto the ground. I wasn’t entirely sure what was going to happen next; it was quite dark and my night vision has never been particularly good. I heard him shuffling around, and I was pretty sure that he was taking his own pants off, but again, unsure. He scootched me to the edge of the bench and placed a single finger against my entrance, teasing my folds. Soft whimpers escaped me, as he pulled a finger away; I’m pretty sure, in the light from the window, what I could see was a strand of my grool extending from my pussy to his finger, which I’m nearly certain went to his mouth. I was sort of expecting him to go down on me, and get me wet and ready. There was more shuffling on his part, some sound I wasn’t entirely familiar with. I wasn’t really sure what was going on, but he finished up what he was doing, and turned his attention back to me, leaning over and bringing his lips to mine, before spreading my legs and having me put them up on the bench. He commented that I was doing a great job at doing what he told me, which made me feel good; it made me feel good to get that validation. J never recognized how much I had helped her that day. It felt nice to have someone tell me, “hey, you’re doing a great job”, even if it was sexual. It’s no surprise, I guess, that I have a praise kink.

My mouth started to thank him. I could feel myself smiling at his praise when he cut my words and my breath off with a kiss and grabbed me and held me tight. I kept trying to murmer it, but it felt nice to be embraced like that.

Dear reader, I was not being embraced out of affection. I was being embraced so that I was well positioned and didn’t move when his heavy cock suddenly pushed itself into my pink teen cunt. I had not been warmed up enough for this, I wasn’t ready, but I realized that the shuffling around that he had done that I wasn’t sure about was him applying copious amounts of lube to himself. He buried himself nearly 3/4ths of the way in me in one stroke, and it filled me tiny body and it honestly hurt like hell. I yelled or screeched a little into his lips, a little, I think.

I also learned, I’m kind of ashamed to admit, at this moment that I’m into rough sex, and that rough penetration that hurt so bad also kind of turned me on? If you’d read my previous story, you know that being treated like an object, a cherished object, is a major turn on to me. And the way he forced himself into me with a kiss, and then his gentle head pats as I shook on his cock and he let me adjust slightly to his intrusion, all really fed that. He was being kind to me, but first and foremost he treated me like he wanted.

He let me adjust probably 10 seconds less than I would have wanted before he pulled his shaft all the way out and then slid back in, this time, nearly entire length. He murmured that it was good pussy, and I wanted to murmur that he was hurting me a little, but he kept pumping, letting himself groan as he put his hands up against the wall and tried to get a good angle on my insides. My lack of being warmed up made me acutely aware of how my little lips were gripping on him, the friction and the chafing really irritating me, but that I was being treated like this by a functional father figure? Honestly, it was a turn on too. I could feel his fat head throbbing inside me, but I could tell he was pulling his thrusts; if he pushed all the way in, or if he really let himself go, his (admittedly large) balls hit the bottom of the bench. He reminded that; putting his strong arm under me and lifting me so I was laying down, functionally, on the bench half way, my body forming and awkward and slightly uncomfortable L so that he could fuck me more easily. Being treated like that, thrown around like that, reinforced my position to him.

I could see in the dark well enough know, and I guess he could too. I was starting to feel good, I was starting to groan and push my hips down a little so that he could better rub my g-spot, I could feel my wetness really starting to flow. I know I was moaning freely, my fingers digging into the wood as I was creaming a little, my mind getting that tell-tale blankness I always get when I’m getting fucked good. He spend up, and unfortunately, it made my head start bumping and thumping against the bathroom wall. That’s not very discreet at all, but also, it was starting to hurt.

His solution was to keep my head still, I imagine, as he reached his large hand out and wrapped it around my delicate throat. We made eye contact and started to squeeze and gently push my head against the wall, so that it wouldn’t move on every thrust.

I didn’t like being choked. I put my hands up on his to try to get him to stop cutting off my air.

He squeezed tighter. So did my little teen cunt.

My resistance disappeared. I let him choke me. I let him do whatever he wanted. My hands stayed on his, but my willpower to stop him from taking what he needed was gone.
Before I knew it, the words of my submission were slipping, tumbling out of my lips. The whispers and moans and groans of one word, “Daddy”, over and over again as he fucked my insides out. I could see him, feel him smiling as I acquiesced. I felt like such an object, such a cherished little doll as I gave him what he wanted.

“What are you, Suzie?” he whispered as he pumped harder into me. I’m certain he was expecting me to say that I was a whore, or a slut, or some other common turn of phrase. Maybe he wanted me to say I was his, like last time.

But what I groaned wasn’t either of those. I told him what I was, and what I felt like. I was daddy’s toy. I damn near yelled it out as he was pivoting to hit my upper sides, as his hand squeezed the breath out of me.

It wasn’t a response that he was expecting, but I think the response pleased him beyond surprise. Unexpectedly, I felt him bottom out, push himself all the way in. I knew what happened. I knew he was filling me up to the brim with his seed. I felt the shudders, the throbbing of his shaft pulsing uncontrollably into me. I whimpered, though I hadn’t gotten my own relief. He stayed inside me, we stayed join, ad he recovered from his intense and unplanned for orgasm He was gasping and shaking, he was as sweaty as I was in the unconditioned summer heat. He sighed and pulled out, I could feel that he had dropped a thick load inside of me from the way that a bit of it spilled out of me when he withdrew.

I sighed and shook. It was an incredibly intense and vulnerable situation for me to be in. He cupped my head.

“Suzie, did you finish?”

I shook my head no.

His finger slid into my abused pussy, and I winced as he pressed against my gspot. He must have noticed, but my calling myself his toy must have emboldened him, as he stirred around in my inside a little bit more, scooping out some of his cum and playing it to my face.

“If you keep being a good girl for me, Suzie, I’ll reward you.” I knew what he wanted me to do; so I gave it to him. I pushed my weary head forward and sucked on his fingers, slurping up the watery mix of my own juices, whatever lube he had used, and of course, his cum. The mixture, frankly, tasted pretty awful. But I was eager to please. He cooed as I cleaned it completely, delighting in the pop of my lips as he pulled his fingers out. He cradled me and helped walk me over to the shower, turning it on and letting the hot water blast away the sweaty proof of our misdeeds; me on my by boyfriend, him on his wife, and both of us on his daughter. He pressed me against the wall and spread my legs, his hand gently at first but soon quickly teasing reactions out of my mouth by-means-of clit. I generally don’t cum super super easily from clitoral stimulation, but he was whispering things I wanted and craved hearing. How good I was. How good I felt to be inside. That he was proud of me. That I was a good friend. That anyone would be happy to be my friend, to know me, to have me as a daughter. Everything my praise kink hungered for, I got, as my legs slammed shut and I came harder than I ever had from just getting my clit rubbed. My hands tried to find purchase on his arm and my mouth bit into his shoulder to keep myself steady, since my legs gave out nearly completely. I’m pretty sure a glop of his cum got forced out, so powerful was my orgasm.

He supported me for a little while longer before whispering he had to go, and that he’d “see me soon.” He left me there, my legs quivering and my brain hazy and addicted, in the dark of night in my friend’s bathroom.

Source: reddit.com/r/gonewildstories/comments/e1anso/how_i_ended_up_in_bed_fooling_around_with_my