One of my girlfriends, Carrie, lived in a shitty, off-campus flat that she shared with three other women, all of them in their early twenties. Carrie was, in a word, badass — she was blunt in manner and carried herself with a “I don’t give a fuck” attitude. Brunette hair, a narrow waist but an impossibly fat ass.
The apartment was a mess — always trashed, always dirty, always with dishes in the sink, beer cans overflowing out of trash bins. I didn’t have a place to stay at the time, so I ended up crashing for a couple nights with Carrie. That weekend we were gonna have a Saturday night to ourselves. Her roommates would be out at the bars and house parties, so we’d presumably have full run of the flat.
Unfortunately, our plans didn’t quite work out that way.
One of Carrie’s roommates, Hannah, had her Dad staying over for the night. And while the girls climbed into Ubers to be chauffeured around the usual route of sports bars and tequila specials, Hannah’s dad would be staying home with us. So much for that.
Carrie got right pissed off. We were hoping to have some privacy, stretch out on the couch, roll some weed, knock back some drinks, throw on a movie, maybe fuck on the rickety coffee table that one of the girls picked up at Goodwill. Instead, Carrie and I sequestered ourselves in her bedroom with stained coffee mugs full of vodka and orange juice.
“That stupid bitch,” Carrie muttered to herself. “Why the fuck would her dad be here if she isn’t? She’s so fucking weird.”
Carrie was dressed in a tiny white tank top and pajama shorts that didn’t quite go so far as to cover the under-curve of her ass. I remember my hand slipped up the back of her tank, her skin warm and wet to the touch. Carrie and her roommates were too broke to afford air conditioning in their apartment, so the place was always a sweat lodge.
“You wanna get me some more?” I asked, pushing my empty coffee mug toward her. Carrie scrunched up her face.
“You go get it.”
“Me? Its your house. Where’s your sense of hospitality?”
“I sucked your dick this morning. How’s that for hospitality?” Carrie stuck her tongue out at me, but grabbed the mug from my hands.
She stepped out the door toward the kitchen, where I couldn’t see from the doorway. But the faintest thought ran through the mind — wasn’t Hannah’s dad out there?
Sure enough, I heard Hannah’s dad’s voice from down the hall. He started chatting up Carrie while she fished in the freezer for OJ. They didn’t talk about anything memorable, but it took a while before Carrie finally came back to the room, blushing, mugs full of vodka sloshing.
“What took you?”
“He was in a chatty mood.” Carrie smirked, kicking the door shut.
“Shhhh,” I cautioned her. “He can probably hear you.”
“I don’t give a fuck. Its my apartment.”
Carrie dropped onto the bed, pressing the mug back in my hands.
“I can say whatever I want. I live here.” Carrie got in a mood while drinking — belligerent, aggressive. I noticed that some guys get scared off by that kind of thing. They got overwhelmed easy.
“He seemed to enjoy talking to you.” I said, swallowing a sip.
“Yeah,” Carrie said, waving her hand over her barely-covered body. “Whyddya think?”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“C’mon.” Carrie cocked an eyebrow. Her knees sank into the bed as she straightened her body out, her tank riding up her torso so that her belly was further exposed.
I remember the blood rushing to my ears as Carrie hooked her thumbs on the waistband of her pajama shorts, teasing them down ever so slightly. The waistband of her panties peeked out.
My memory flashed on what Hannah’s dad looked like; a past-his-prime, overweight, average Joe in sports team t-shirts, musty tennis shoes and cargo shorts. For a second, I imagined him eye fucking Carrie, braless in a too-small tank and too-tiny shorts as she bounced around barefoot in that dirty fucking kitchen that nobody had bothered to clean in months.
“C’mon dude,” Carrie said again. Her lip curled. “Why do you think?”
My arms wrapped around Carrie’s waist as I tossed her onto the comforter. She was laughing. I was drunk, so in the mayhem of wrestling Carrie to the bed, my mug spilled on the floor.
I stripped off Carrie’s shorts and she pulled her thong to the side so she could ride on top. She was already wet, and I couldn’t help but wonder if talking to Hannah’s dad was what did it. Carrie sank down on my dick too easy and my hands gripped her ass while she moaned: “Ohhhh Daddy.”
We’d just started experimenting with her calling me Daddy a few weeks prior.
“Ohhhh Daddy. Fuck with me your big dick. Make me cum, big Daddy.”
My dick was a little above-average, but I wasn’t complaining.
“Daddyyyyy,” Carrie moaned louder, so that her voice could carry through the cheap, flimsy walls of the apartment.
“Shut uppp,” I told her, trying to get her to quiet down.
“Why? I’m the one fucking paying rent here,” she whispered angrily back to me, still bouncing up and down on my dick.
“He’s gonna hear you,” I said back, in a drunk haze, turned on and not wanting her to stop, but feeling like I should let her know all the same.
Carrie smiled at me as she continued to fuck me. That smile said it all — He better fucking hear me.
“Daddy, I’m so wet for you!”
I slapped her ass as hard as I could. Carrie let out a yelp. I palmed her sore butt cheek. The next thing I knew she was coming, loud and hard, her nails digging into my shoulders. “I’m coming Daddy, I’m coming…” she wailed, louder than ever before.
When she was finished, I climbed on top. I had to wipe a puddle of her wetness off my stomach. That was how turned on she was. Her hand grabbed my shaft and quickly guided me inside. While I pumped her, I couldn’t help but imagine the view Hannah’s dad of her — twenty five years younger, half dressed, with a filthy sense of humor. I pulled out to come, splattering hard on Carrie’s stomach.
As Carrie reached for the towel to clean up, I heard the creaking of floorboards from the other side of the bedroom door. Turning my head, I could have sworn I saw a shadow pass under the bottom of the threshold. The sound of footsteps retreating back to the living area.
“Did you see that?” I turned back to Carrie who was red-faced and laughing, sponging cum off her skin.
“I’m gonna be so fucking embarrassed if I see him in the morning.”
Source: reddit.com/r/gonewildstories/comments/ve52bx/her_roommates_dad_heard_the_whole_thing_mf