All characters in sexual situations are fictional and 18 years of age and older.
She was running towards me having scored her first goal for the high school team. She was a jumble of smiling, laughing, glowing and panting, and wrapped herself round me.
"Oh Daddy, did you see that?"
I reached round and took her arms from my waist and stepped back a little so she could see how much I'd enjoyed her achievement. She was still catching her breath. Her blond hair tumbled over her shoulders. Her blue eyes glistened and her cheeks were slightly reddened.
"Well played, Nancy. You can celebrate with your mates in the changing room. I'll be waiting in the car."
She smiled up at me. I noticed the slight puffing of her nipples below the white, sweat dampened nylon of her sports top: her developing breasts teased at the top forming two small handfuls of temptation. Her friend Micky arrived, similarly exhausted and excited, smiling almost as broadly under a short bob of black hair.
"Hya, Mr Rogers. Wasn't Nancy ace out there? Nancy, I can't get my boot undone. Can you have a go?"
Nancy bent over to grapple with the tangled lace. Her shorts rode up her rounded bum almost cleaving her butt cheeks and slightly separating, hinting at the lips of her young cunt. I looked away. My gaze landed on Micky's tits, far fuller than Nancy's, stretching tight behind her shirt: her areola, dark, generous circles. Micky winked knowingly.
"Got it," said Nancy untying Micky's boot. "We'll go and get changed now Dad. See you soon."
"Bye Mr Rogers."
The car was only about five minutes away at the opposite end of the playing fields. The girls would probably be about half-an-hour. The images of those two fit young girls were stirring and my cock started to harden, pushing on my boxers. The friction between the material and my stiffening cock encouraged further hardening. I rested my hand on the lengthening bulge in the crotch of my jeans and stroked gently, thinking. Nancy was bent over fixing Mickey's lace, her shorts were pulled down to her ankles exposing her smooth, virginal pussy, its slightly moistened lips almost impossibly close together. Was that sweat from the recent game or something else, something sexual? I heard Micky whispering, tits or cunt, tits or cunt, then a little louder, beggingly attention seeking. She'd lifted her top and I could see her full, eager breasts. My cock pressed hard against my jeans and I stroked faster. Eyes tight closed, I felt my ball sack slightly clench, squeezing the spunk that streamed from my cock.
A few minutes later Nancy and Micky were back at the car. They were in their tracksuits. I got out to open the boot for Nancy's sports bag.
"Thanks Dad. The showers weren't heating up so we'll clean up properly when we're home. Micky's coming too. We'll watch a film together after some lunch. Is that ok Dad?"
"I'm finishing some work on the computer this afternoon. You and Micky will have the run of the house."
"Thanks Mr Rogers."
Micky handed me her bag. White knickers were visible at the top of the bag.
"All our clothes are still in my bag, Mr Rogers. The dirty kit's in Nancy's. We thought we'll dress again after showering. When we're back at yours we just need to jump out of our trackies and jump in your shower."
I reached up to pull down the boot. The dark, damp, guilty stain of semen on my jeans betrayed me.
"You've got a mark on your trousers Mr Rogers. Maybe you'll need to change and shower too."
The girls climbed into the back together. The drive home was quiet for me as the two teenagers engaged in seemingly earnest, momentarily childish, conversation. When checking my mirrors I saw smiles, giggles and high-fives exchanged. I have no idea what they were talking about.
I parked the car. I got out to unlock the front door and the girls were immediately through, across the hall and leaping up the stairs.
Nancy shouted from the top landing, "Can you bring our bags please Dad? Put Micky's bag on my bed. The other stuff needs to go in the machine: not the boots Dad."
I emptied the boot, locked the car and returned to the house, one bag in each hand. The girls' tracksuits were scattered on the hall floor. I put Micky's bag at the foot of the stairs and took Nancy's to empty into the machine. The track suits and all the sports gear were a smallish load. Knowing the girls were splashing away in the shower I quickly peeled of my trousers and pants and threw them in. The machine started chugging and sloshing. Their boots went quickly on the shoe rack in the utility room.
I returned to take Micky's bag upstairs and get clean clothes on. The girls were laughing loudly now.
"Are you in there together?"
"Yes Dad. We always shower together after the games."
"I'm putting your clothes in your room."
I listened at the door, picturing the water trickling over every curve and hollow, soapy caresses of curious, slippery hands. Were they still at the stage of surprise discovery or had they moved onto more deliberate sexual explorations. Were Nancy's tight pussy lips ever parted by her gentle fingers? Did Micky finger-fuck her arse while squeezing her breasts against the glass of the shower cabinet? I was stroking it again and had a semi-on. Couldn't risk anymore and had to get properly dressed. Quickly into my room and sat on the edge of my bed to pull on clean boxers and jeans. Zipping them up I felt the girth of my still excited cock at the top of my leg.
When I was a little younger than Nancy and Micky sex had come upon me when I was showering. I was cleaning down below, washing around my balls and the thin fluffiness of pubic hairs. Then I felt it. Unsought, unbidden, some animal instinct, aware of the sensation starting at the base of my cock. And it spread down the length to my knob end. Gripping my still lengthening shaft I pulled back along the length exposing the glans: my cock, now rock hard and pointing almost straight up, seemed like a completely new part of my body; I jerked my hand up and down its length, my foreskin rubbing back and forth on the glistening bell end. Then I climaxed: my first ever spunk shot.
"Are you ok Mr Rogers?"
Suddenly back in the present, I'm aware of my hand resting on the erection in my pants.
"Yes Micky, I'm fine. Did you have a nice shower? Shall I go down and make some lunch for us all?"
I got off the bed to head downstairs. Micky was grinning, looking straight at me. The towel was wrapped tightly round her, tucked in over her breasts.
"Excuse me," I said.
We'd scarcely touched but the towel fell. Those wonderous young breasts, the pubic mound, smooth, hairless, and that virgin slit.
"Can I have my towel back please?"
I picked it up and handed it to her. Throwing it casually over her shoulder, she squeezed past me on the landing. I stared at her cheeky arse wiggling towards Nancy's room.
"See you at lunch Mr Rogers," she laughed.
Lunch was easy. Rolls filled with cheese and pickle, crisps from a multipack, a plate of biscuits, tumblers of chilled juice. The girls arrived, t-shirts and shorts, ankle-socks and trainers: both their faces freshly aglow after their shower.
"Help yourselves girls. Tell me if I've missed anything."
"Thanks Dad."
"Yes. Thank you, Mr Rogers. We'll clear up afterwords. You can get on with the stuff on your computer. We'll watch something on the telly. I'll get an uber to take me home."
"No need Micky, I'll drive you back when you're ready."
Lunch was probably no more than twenty minutes. A few shared glances and smiles: the odd, Mmm, that's nice, or similar.
"Right girls, I'll leave you to your film. Micky: come and get me when you're ready to go. I can have you home in no time."
Most of my work was done in my home office. The set-up was constantly updated. Two screens, two bootable drives, one for all my stuff, the other for anything work related. Superb graphics and sound cards, mainly for work's technical drawings and presentations and all the zoom meetings. The bonus for me was fantastic visuals and audio for my personal online experience. My cock needed some more attention before I got down to work. I put on my headphones and mic, logged on and went straight for it. Schoolgirls, oral, anal, daddy. One of my regular searches. I looked at the array of screenshots. School uniforms with skirts raised to expose tight white panties or smooth-shaven cunts, tits jutting from unbuttoned blouses and young lips wrapped round rigid hard-ons. One of the girls looked a bit like Micky, similar hair style. I clicked on the link. There she was, her head bobbing up and down, her lips round the most enormous stiffy. She stopped momentarily.
"Are you liking this Daddy? Is your cock hard enough yet?" Are you going to fuck your little girl Daddy?"
Then back to the blowjob. I lowered my trousers and underwear so I could properly deal with my throbbing penis. I dropped some sexual lubricant from its bottle onto the tip of my cock. I stroked it down over my length, the oiled palm of my hand feeling like that schoolgirl's mouth on my prick. She had stopped sucking his cock and was kneeling on the edge of the bed offering her cunt, or her arse. I tightened my grip making my choice and imagined the moment of anal penetration. You have to make gentle, continuous pressure and the butt hole will suddenly relax, almost sucking the head of your cock in. And then you can start thrusting, her anus gripping ever tighter as you slide deeper, balls deep, balls slapping on her cunt lips. And now the schoolgirl on film has his cock in her arse and she's turned her head round.
"Fuck me Daddy! Fire your spunk into me! Deeper, deeper."
Then he's grunting and his cock's pulsing and surplus cum dribbles out towards her slit. And I'm coming too: a thick ribbon of spunk shoots up over my belly and I feel every pulse as jizz drains from my balls. Fuck, that was a goodie I thought.
I'd developed a neat routine to remove all evidence of my porn sessions. Moistened tissues to hand, just next to the lubricant so handy at the start, then wipe the spunk from wherever it has landed; the tissues were lightly scented, diluting the odour of sex. Clothing back in order; clear the browser history. Then a dash to the loo for that post-sex piss that feels so relaxing and relieving. Sometimes I'd add the pissing to the session by watching a clip on my phone where some young-looking porn bitch has her face doused in piss after six or seven cocks have exploded cum over her face, in her eyes and mouth and hair. No time for that today. Just the briefest imaginary flash of Micky and Nancy gargling under the stream issuing from my knob end. I went quickly downstairs, and transferred the laundry to the tumble dryer, then returned to my office.
I had a few drawings to check and sign off before the parts went for production. I've done this so many times it's now fairly easy for me to spot any faults. After ninety minutes or so the approved drawings were emailed and I was done. I went downstairs, picked my keys of the hall table and went into the sitting room.
"Hiya girls. Have you had a nice afternoon?"
"Yes Dad. Did you get your work done?"
"Yep, all done. Micky, I think I should get you home soon. Are you ready to roll? I'll get your kit from the dryer. You go and get your sports bag from Nancy's room."
The dryer had finished. I popped the door open and sorted the clothes. Three smallish bundles, each of the girls' kit and my boxers and trousers. I got Micky's boots off the shoe rack. The morning's mud had dried a bit. I put them in a plastic bag to keep them separate from the clothes. Mickey was in the doorway, bag in hand.
"Thanks for doing all that Mr Rogers," she said.
"Not a problem. Here are your boots. Put them in the bottom of the bag and stick your kit on top. That's it. Shall we go and say goodbye to Nancy?"
The girls' chattering goodbyes belied their imminent reunion in school the next day.
"Come on Micky."
"Of course, Mr Rogers. Your word is my command," she smirked.
Once out of the drive, the route to Micky's house goes through Carr Woods then up, over and down the hill into Brock: about fourteen miles. The village is almost a town now: the railway station helped developers sell it as a lovely base for commuters. The houses continued going up and would be commuters continued getting the keys to their new homes.
Micky was quiet. She was slightly tugging at the leg of her shorts. She tried to cover her one hand with the other, looking slightly flushed, perhaps embarrassed by her wriggling.
"Are you ok Micky?"
"Oh. It's these shorts. I'm getting a bit big for them. And there getting stuck up there, up there, you know?" she giggled nervously.
