Ch 01 Discovering Daddy

Chapter 1

5th February 2011

Declan sat up in bed, illuminated only by the flicking lights of his laptop. It was a quiet night. His housemates, Neville, Helena and Trish, had gone out for drinks at the local bar. Declan decided to have a lazy evening in bed. He'd spent all that Saturday morning basketball training, and ached all over. He'd taken advantage of the empty house that night to have a long bath to soak himself, got a takeaway as a reward to himself and was sat in bed, huddled away from the biting cold that filled the house, watching Doctor Who.

He has a brief moment of loneliness as he reached for his tobacco. He had been invited out to join the others but wasn't really in the mood for their company. There had been a house-wide argument in the afternoon about the use of the washing machine; the usual petty, student-life stuff that really shouldn't have been an issue. Trish had objected to Declan putting his sweat-dripped basketball clothes through the washing machine.

'Well, where the fuck am I supposed to clean these things? I could just dump them in the hallway and let them stink the entire house out.' He tried remaining calm but he was clearly alone in thinking Trish was being ridiculous.

'Take them to the launderette.' Helena joined in the argument. 'Why should we be paying bills for you to add all these extra clothes to the wash?'

It was true, in the last 6 months, since they all moved in to the house together, Declan had been working out a lot more. Four times a week basketball sessions, and the other three days in the gym. After his first year at uni, Declan's weight had ballooned from 13 stone to 30 stone, largely due to four messy nights out a week ending with a friend chicken takeaway at 3am. It was a weight he'd maintained all the way through his second year. Slowly, in that year of 2010, he'd become more isolated, through encroaching anxiety, depression and body dysmorphia, and it was a rut he fell into in a deep, seemingly inescapable way.

The summer of 2010, he returned home to stay with his mother. While home, he reconnected with an old friend, Louise. She helped him get connected with a basketball team close to the university. When he returned in September, he attended his first session, fell back in love with the sport he hadn't played for 4 years, and it clicked in his mind that if he wanted to play seriously and join the team as an official member, he needed to get fit. He joined the uni's gym, and started to do just that. The weight swiftly dropped off, and while he was never going to be ripped, his muscles developed, fitness increased. His body dysmorphia remained, and it was probably true he didn't congratulate himself enough on the work he'd put in to get back down to 13 and a half stone. He had developed what could be described as a 'dad bod', which didn't seem to be the socially accepted norm, especially with the rapidly growing presence of social media and the ripped and toned folks that filled every post he saw. Also, the dark hair, beard, glasses didn't seem to fit what was wanted. He felt a lot more in proportion to his 6"1 height now than he did at 30 stone, but his body issues still remained.

So Declan hid himself away for the rest of the day. Neville had shot him a message in the early evening to see if he wanted to join them for drinks, but he declined. He settled in to his warm cocoon around 7pm, with his chicken makhonwalla from the Indian takeaway across town, and decided on a Doctor Who binge, now into its 5th hour. He finished rolling his cigarette, downed the dregs of his cup of tea, long cold and hit play on the next episode, Vincent and the Doctor, when a knock at the window startled him into dropping his cig.

He turned in his bed, the headboard of which was in the nook created by the bay window of his ground floor room, and pulled the curtains to see Henrietta, he friend that lived in 'The Girls' House across the road. She stood at his window, shivering in pink short shorts and a vest top, smiling and gesturing for him to open the window, which he duly did.

'You going to let me in or let me freeze to death out here?' she laughed through chattering teeth. Declan jumped up and unlocked the window, opening it wide and helping her climb through. He had had a crush on her since the first time they met in first year. Declan was a diligent student in the first weeks on uni, before the call of the pub became too much. He had been on his way to a 9am lecture and had passed the house in which Henrietta lived. She was sat on the door step, clearly still up from the night before, with a crate of Stella Artois, offering a bottle to everyone who passed. Declan smiled and took one from her.

'You know' she said in a deep Essex accent 'You're the only person that's taken one. What's your name? I think we're going to become good friends!'

He introduced himself to her, they chatted briefly and he went away to his lecture. True to her word, they became friends, spending countless nights watching TV and having brews together. During the 30 stone days, Declan had resigned himself to nothing ever happening between them, but he appreciated her friendship and always admired how she looked.

He was admiring her as she climbed through the window. In fairness, with her vest top cut as low as possible and remaining decent. It was hard not to. She had 34 DD breasts on a 5"3 frame that just seemed to defy all known physical laws, and it was clear she wasn't wearing a bra. She had long mousy brown hair, partly worn up in a loose scruffy bun, a fringe that framed anime-style blue eyes, and lips that seemed to always be in a slight, and hugely alluring pout. Her skin always seemed flawless, slightly tanned. From their many hugs, he knew how soft she felt under his touch.

Henrietta climbed through and he closed the window behind her. As was the closeness of their friendship, her first move was to hop under the covers and help herself to his tobacco. He smiled. This wasn't out of the ordinary. He knew what a late night window knock meant.

'Oh yeah, help yourself!' He said with fake umbridge.

'Don't mind if I do. What are we watching?' Henrietta flaked tobacco into a paper and lifted it to her lips, licking the gum slowly.

'You know what I'm watching, what I'm always watching.' Declan moved to get back under the covers.

'Oooh Doctor Who!' Henri smiled and reached to hit play before stopping him getting into bed. 'A brew would be lovely. Oh, and some trousers.' She gave a cheeky look as her eyes motioned down to the fact that Declan, while huddled up warm on his top half, with a t-shirt and hoodie, was just wearing boxers on his lower half.

'Fuck. Sorry. OK.' Declan went beetroot and moved towards the door quickly, picking up some shorts on the way to the kitchen.

'Oh I actually didn't mind at all.' She shouted after him, laughing at his embarrassment. Henrietta starting rolling herself a cig as Declan pulled on his shorts and headed into the corridor.

As the kettle boiled, Declan rinsed two cups out and rattled to the back of his crockery cupboard for a tea pot. He placed three teabags into the pot, one per person and one for the pot, three sugars and milk. Yes, he was the kind of person that does milk first in a cup of tea. He reasoned that the time waiting for the kettle to boil was just dead air, but if you did everything you could to prep the brew while waiting for the kettle, then you could get on with your life. Most disagreed.

The kettle bubbled itself in to silence and Declan filled the teapot, grabbed it and the cups and headed back to the bedroom. He kicked the door open, his hands occupied. He could have sworn he heard the rattle of a few keys on his laptop as he walked back in to the room, and as he looked over at Henrietta, who was just lighting her cigarette, he thought he saw a slight embarrassment on her face now.

'Everything OK?' He asked with a slight apprehension in his voice.

'Yep. Yep.' Henriette replied after finishing a drag, her face a mix of shyness and a mischievous curiosity.

Declan paused at the door further. He suddenly had a thought. He had been single for a while now. Two years, give or take. Way past the length of time that someone cares about hiding their porn. He was on his own, why should he hide it? This wasn't magazines or anything though, this was internet porn. He had watched some earlier and he had a sudden thought that he may not have closed the tabs. Most of it was fairly vanilla, mainstream stuff but there was one that he was a little bit worried about. To him, it wasn't even that out there, but he had watched a lot of porn in the last couple of years, and his tastes had developed. Maybe he'd become jaded and wanted things that most people would view as "disturbed".

'OK.' He said, almost as a question as he kicked the door closed behind him. As he walked back across the room, he looked over at Henrietta, who seemed to be watching him almost with a curiosity. Her eyes seemed to be wandering over him. He questioned for a moment in his mind before he shook the though. No, she hadn't been looking at him body, checking him out. She can't have been. Despite the physical changes he had been through in the last year, Henrietta was clearly out of his league. Plus, she was 4 years younger than him. Declan had started uni at 22, making him older than most of the people around him. He figured this was the source of most of the tension with the others who lived in the house -- they had very different views on the tidiness of the house.

Declan shook himself from his thoughts and handed the cups to Henrietta, placed the teapot on the table next to the bed and got back under the covers. He took one of the cups and poured a brew for both of them.

'Tell you what, I made the brews, you can roll me a cigarette, to say thank you.' Declan said with a slight smirk on his face as he reached forward to hit play on Vincent and the Doctor.

'Of course.' Henrietta replied in a soft, slightly husked voice. She picked up the cigarette accoutrements and rolled one for Declan, handing it to him. He lit it and leant back against the headboard, Henrietta doing the same next to him.

For the next half an hour, they sat, smoking a another cigarette and drinking tea. This usually happened, the two of them falling into a comfortable silence as they watched something together. This time, however, felt different, just slightly, Firstly, he thought he could sense Henrietta glancing at him with a small smile every once in a while. Secondly, he could feel Henrietta's leg against his, the smooth skin of her thigh on his. He thought nothing of it when he first felt the contact, when she seemed to readjust her sitting position to get more comfortable, but now he thought he could feel an almost imperceptible movement from her, like she was subtly moving her leg against his. What the hell is going on tonight, Declan thought to himself. He tried to ignore it, but over time, the movement became increased, Henrietta pressing her leg against his more and more. Thank goodness for the duvet, Declan thought to himself. Henrietta doesn't need to see the fact I'm starting to get hard.

Declan had felt Henrietta almost countless times over the time they had been friends. They hugged a lot. His hands on her back or waist. Their chests pressed together. Kisses on cheeks. He had gotten used to it. This was different though. This was their thighs pressed together. It was intimate. It was exciting, and Declan couldn't help the fact that it caused a strong throb in his shorts.

'Can you not get comfortable?' Declan asked. He didn't want the contact to stop, but he needed to find out what was happening. Just in case the impossible was in fact possible.

Henrietta shook her head with a smile, but said no words in reply. Instead, with no warning at all, she took hold of the top of the duvet and pulled it back, exposing them both to each other. She looked directly at Declan's crotch, eyeing the growing bulge under the material of the shorts. For the second time that night, Declan blushed deeply. Then he looked over at her and saw something that damn near made the capillaries in his face explode.

Henrietta had her hand down her shorts, and was stroking her middles finger up and down. Whether there was anything under her shorts, if she was teasing her fingers over her panties or if she was exploring the bare folds, he wasn't sure but he couldn't take his eyes off of her, off the way the taught pink material of her shorts was flexing with the movement of her finger. He simply watched, frozen, not wanting to do or say anything that may make this moment flitter away.

However, the moment did stop when Henrietta took her hand from under her shorts and sat up on her knees, looking directly at Declan.

'Why haven't you tried to fuck me yet?' she asked, simply and plainly, in that same sensual voice. It's been almost three years and you haven't made one inappropriate move on me and I find that very rude.'

Declan remained stuck in time. The question hit his ears with a force that jolted him from his stasis.

'Well, I...' He started, clearly floundering for words. 'I never thought...I didn't know...' Declan was complete unable to finish a coherent sentence to answer her question. Henrietta giggled at his lack of composure. Then the giggles disappeared and she gazed over at him with a look he had never seen in her eyes before. She closed her eyes as she lifted her hand to her mouth, the hand that had been down her shorts, and wrapped her lips around her middle finger. Her full, pouted lips drew the finger into her mouth and there was a small moan from her throat as she sucked it in deeper.

Declan remained motionless, except for the bulge now throbbing fiercely in his shorts.

Henrietta opened her eyes and looked at Declan with...lust, that's what that expression was in her eyes. Those huge blue eyes locked on his as she opened her mouth, finger still inside, and let her tongue slide along the underside of the digit. Then something happened that caused a groan from Declan, the first sound he had produced for what seemed like hours.

As her tongue hung down, a stream of saliva formed, dripping its way down, thick and white, from the tip of her tongue and onto her chest. It hit her tanned chest and flowed, following the curve of her breast into her cleavage. Then she wrapped her lips around the finger again, this time adding a second and thrusting them in and out of her mouth, before once more opening, and more drool flowing from her tongue, this time streaming over the curve of her right breast, wetting the white vest top that was covering her chest as it dripped down.

'This is what you like, isn't it? You like a nice drooly girl, don't you?' Henrietta spoke softly, the rasp adding more layers of eroticism. 'I saw that video you were watching earlier.'

'Fuck...' was all that Declan could muster. He was almost going out of his mind. If she continued, her was going to cum in his shorts. He was already on the verge of it now watching his friend, his best friend, drool down herself. 'Yes, I do like a drooly girl.' His voice was quiet, cracked with nerves.

'Well then' Henrietta removed the fingers from her mouth and leant forward, locking her lips on his, kissing with a passion. She opened her mouth and flicked her tongue against his lips. Declan opened his mouth and massaged his tongue against hers until there was a hot wetness forming on their cheeks. As they kissed, tongues clashing, Henrietta placed her hand on his chest and snaked it down his stomach, groaning into his mouth, until she reached his shorts. Once there, she wrapped her hand around the shaft of his cock and squeezed. With one more groan, she broke the kiss and moved to his ear.

'Feed me that cock. Turn me into your drooly girl' She squeezed again, and let her hot, groaning breath hit his ear and she added '...daddy.'

For Declan, that was the moment. The moment. Until that, through her drooling tease, through the kissing, he still wasn't able to comprehend that this was happening, that Henri, the stunning girl her had been friends with for years, that he saw as family, could ever want to entangle with him in any way other that purely platonic. He had frozen. No, this is all a joke, this can't be real. She doesn't want to fuck me. Even with Henri's tongue in his mouth, their spit covering their cheeks and dripping from their chins, he was still consumed by self doubt.

Then that word dripped down his ear into his brain. 'Daddy.' It turned on a light inside him, glowing fierce and illuminating his mind, parts of him he had packed away, that he thought no one would want to explore.

He moved a hand from its resting place on Henri's waist, where he had been holding her as they kissed, and gripped the bun at the back of her head.

'Is that what you want? Daddy's cock?' His confidence had grown, but there was still a slight disbelief penetrating his words.

'Mmmmm yes Daddy' Henrietta purred, squeezing his cock once more, looking at him, eyes wide, mouth open.

Declan was mustering everything in him to display the self-assuredness that this moment required. He gripped her hair tighter and shifted to a kneeling position, putting his other hand on her chest, feeling the wetness her drool had produced and pushed Henri on to her back. He then moved to standing over her, next to the bed, and moved his hands to her waist, shifting her across so her head was close to the edge of the bed. Then he took hold of her vest and pulled it down slowly, revealing the smooth, firm breasts underneath. He adjusted his stance slightly so that the throbbing bulge in his short was against Henri's face. She smiled again opened her mouth, pressing her lips against the material straining around his shaft. At the same time, Declan moved his hands to her breasts, squeezing them, placing his thumbs and forefingers around each nipple and rolling them, pinching them slightly. Small gasps came from Henri's mouth as she now licked over his shorts and moved her hands up to pull them down.

Declan froze again for a moment. This was another moment that plagued him. He had no confidence in his size. He had always felt it was small, and felt overwhelming shyness around people seeing it. And now Henri was going to see it and probably laugh before leaving. Henri pulled his shorts down slowly, along with his boxers and groaned as each inch of Declan's now raging shaft was revealed. Henri seemed to sense Declan's worry about this moment.

'Fuck Daddy' she whispered, reaching up and wrapping her fingers around the shaft. 'I can't even make my fingers touch. You're so fucking big. Give it. Give it to me.' She said as she leaned up to flick her tongue over the head.

Declan wasn't sure if she was being genuine or kind but at that first feel of her tongue against his cock, he stopped caring. He stepped forward a little more so that Henri could reach better and moved a hand to her head, once more gripping the bun and pulling her head up. As he did so, Henri fully wrapped her lips around the crown and drew him into her mouth. She opened her eyes wider and looked up at him, almost with a satisfaction in her look. Though Declan held her hair, she was controlling her movements, starting to bob her head up and down, taking more and more into her mouth, inch by inch until she was roughly halfway, slurping on the four inch she had stuffed into her mouth before moving back down and releasing Declan, spit forming at the edges of her mouth.

'Fuck' she said breathlessly 'That was only about half, wasn't it? Give it to me, Daddy, destroy my mouth.'

Declan couldn't find any words to say at that moment but seemed to go on autopilot. He took his cock in his hand and stroked it, rubbing the head against her cheek, leaving a trail of drool and precum across her face. As he did this, Henri opened her mouth and stuck out her tongue. Declan slapped the head of his cock against her tongue before pushing forward, sliding into the hot, wet hole. She nodded as she started to suck once more, moving a hand to Declan's waist and nudging forward, seeming to encourage him to thrust into her mouth, to go deeper.