I Hate My Daughters New Friend

This is another frame narrative-- a fantasy I had, but from the perspective of a concerned father. The sex comes a little later.

It was the week of Thanksgiving, and our daughter was coming home for the first time since we'd moved her into the dorm almost three months earlier. My wife and I were ecstatic to see her again--the three of us were extremely close, and it turned out that an empty nest was a lonely one. Corinne and I have a wonderful relationship, don't get me wrong. But it just always felt like a part of us was somehow...missing. It wasn't like she was far--just an hour, forty-five minutes in light traffic. But we were trying to respect her boundaries, and let her grow some independence. She was studying exercise science with the hopes of becoming an athletic trainer. One of her classes had her doing a practicum training for the girl's basketball team. Between schoolwork and her responsibilities for the team, Melissa was spread pretty thin. That meant we had to settle for a twenty-minute phone call each Sunday night.

It was during one of these Sunday night calls that Melissa first mentioned the idea of her friend Bri coming to join us over Thanksgiving.

"We have classes until Wednesday, then there's basketball practice on Saturday. Bri's family lives on the West Coast. It doesn't make sense for her to go all that way. Can she stay at our house for Thanksgiving?" she pleaded.

"I don't know honey...we were looking forward to spending some time together..." I started.

"Of course Bri can come. We're looking forward to meeting her," Corinne cut me off.

Corinne was right to interrupt. I was being crazy. I had really missed Melissa, and I wasn't keen to share her with someone besides Corinne and myself.

It was settled that Corinne would pick them up from school on Wednesday and I would take them back in time for practice on Saturday. On Wednesday I went to work as usual. Corinne texted around one to say they'd made it to the house, along with a cryptic message: "Bri is...interesting."

This was just perfect. I knew exactly what Corinne implying. Our daughter's new friend was some weirdo and now Corinne was having second thoughts. Hadn't I told her? Now we had to entertain this interloper for three nights when we could be spending time with our daughter, alone, like old times.

When I arrived home a few hours later, the scene was, as promised, unusual. A tall woman was sitting in the middle of the couch, facing away from me, so that I could only her blonde ponytail. Melissa was standing behind the couch, her back also to me, as she massaged the blonde's broad shoulders. When the door to the garage shut, they both turned.

"Oh, hi Daddy! I was just doing my homework. Bri's shoulder was hurt last season and we have to make sure it's in good shape for the season."

She ran to me and I threw my arms around her. It was so good to see her. After a long hug, I held her back at a distance to take a look at her. Her long, curly brown hair was tied up in a ponytail and she wore a college hoodie. She had always been pear-shaped (taking after Corinne), and the stress of college had apparently caused her to put on some weight, giving her thunder thighs and big butt more jelly than she'd left with back in September. But she looked healthy and happy, grinning madly.

"It's so good to be home. Come over here and meet my dad, Bri."

Bri rose from the couch. She was enormous. At least six foot five and broad. But slender in an athletic way. She was a pretty girl--no make up. Something slightly masculine about her face. Bri reached for my hand and shook it with a firm grip.

"Pleased to meet you, sir. Mel has told me so much about you. I really want to thank Corinne and you for letting me stay here."

"Bri, the pleasure is mine. Of course, we're glad to have you."

Melissa beamed.

"Two of my favorite people in once place," she squealed. "I can't believe it."

Over the course of the evening, Melissa continued to massage various areas of Bri: her feet, her calves, her temples, all of this under the guise of homework. Corinne and I were, to be honest, a little weirded out. But Melissa and Bri acted like it was the most normal thing in the world.

"So, Bri... what's it like to be a D1 athlete? It seems like a fundamentally different college experience than the one I had," I said, making conversation as Melissa kneeled on the floor, massaging Bri's left foot.

"I have nothing to compare it to, of course, but it seems more regimented than most college students' lives. Not just me, but everyone associated with the team," she said, nodding to Melissa on the floor. Melissa beamed. "Melissa has been a lifesaver. For me, and the team."

"She's always been so interested in sports. I'm so glad to hear she's still able to participate in her own way."

"She really does," Bri said, lifting her legs so that Melissa could reposition for a better angle on Bri's other foot.

That night I stood at my bathroom sink, flossing, when Corinne came in.

"Did you get the guest room made up?" I asked.

"No need. Melissa said they were fine sharing her room."

I frowned.

"Did you think...?"

"It is very unusual."

"I don't know that I like the idea of our daughter being...with some upper classman--male or female. I'm not bigoted or anything. Just...under our roof?"

"She says they're just friends. I don't know. Maybe that's true."

"You know me. I'm pretty open-minded. But there's something about this I just don't like."

Almost as soon as I finished saying it, I started to hear faint voices coming through the bathroom vent. I closed the door, shutting myself in the bathroom and climbed onto the toilet to put my ear against the vent.

"You think the fact we're at your parents' house matters? What do we always say? No days off."

There was muffled slurping coming from the vent, too, then it stopped and another voice meekly said "Yes, Daddy."

I felt a bolt of shock. Panic, really. I immediately got down to the floor, shut off the light and left the bathroom.

"What's the matter, John? You don't look so good."

"I heard voices coming from the other room."

"John! Melissa is an adult. She may be our little girl, but we owe her some semblance privacy. No more snooping. Promise me."

I climbed into bed and she turned out the light.

"So what were they saying?"

"You don't want to know."

The next morning, Thanksgiving, I woke to find the house empty. Corinne left a note: she had driven Melissa and Bri to the rec center to use the gym while she was at the store, buying a few last minute groceries for Thanksgiving dinner. I set the note down on the kitchen table and stared into space. All I wanted was to know my daughter was happy. I didn't have to like all the details if I could just be reassured of that. It was then that I remembered Melissa's diary. She had been an avid journaler since she was a girl. I had promised Corinne I'd stop snooping, but this was too important to ignore.

There were two duffle bags on the floor of Melissa's room, both of them university athletics department bags. I rifled through the one with Melissa's name on it until I found the small, leather bound book. From the dates I could tell she had started a new journal upon arriving at college. I began reading.

****

Sept. 5

My homesickness has subsided, leaving only nervy, buzzy excitement. Everything feels so possible here. My practicum paired me with the girls' basketball team. They're really, really good. I'm meeting with the head of their athletic training tomorrow to determine what capacity I'll be serving. I have to wear khaki pants and a team polo, like completely official. I'm nervous, but in the best way. Otherwise my classes are not much to report. College is, so far, easier than high school, but we're still a little in the "syllabus week" phase so we'll see what happens when it all gets cooking. Until tomorrow.

Sept. 8

This morning when I got to the PT room, Ella told me I'd be working with Bri from now on, and that Grace would be working with her. I asked her if I'd done something wrong and she said no. She said Bri had traded for me and that I was "more her speed." A little bit later, Bri came in and sat down. "You're with me now, Mel," she told me. I tried to object, talking about being assigned specifically to Ella by the practicum and she assured me it was all taken care of. Her shoulder was injured last season, so she had me get behind her and stretch it, only I guess I wasn't doing it right because she said, "Let me show you." I sat down and she moved behind me, placing one hand on my clavicle and the other on my wrist, demonstrating the tension. "Like that," she muttered. A few times, her hand grazed my breast through my black cotton polo shirt, or came dangerously close to it. Our entire session she would give little corrections, touching my body to show me how to do a maneuver. It was...thrilling. The team is probably 60% straight, 40% lesbian. I've never known gay girls before but I have to admit I'm very curious. I've always been, in a way.

When we were done, Bri told me I should come over to the basketball house tonight and she'd help me study for the first quiz in the Lower Extremity Diagnosis intro I was taking. Then she left the room. Afterwards I talked with Grace, asking her what Ella had meant by "more her speed," and Grace laughed. "You got a big booty, girl. Bri loves a fat ass."

I went back to my dorm, and thank God, Margo was gone (she's always, always in the room) so I rubbed my pussy to two quick orgasms, then sprayed some perfume to mask the sex smells. I can't believe that this girl, a Goddess, really, might be interested in me. I've spent eighteen and a half years in this plump body and it's finally paying off. Someone traded for me. I'm her speed. I don't know what to expect at the basketball house (maybe we will just study) but I'm somebody's speed. Until tomorrow.

Sept. 9

I can still smell her somewhere deep in my nose. I showered, washed my face, brushed my teeth, and still I can smell the ghost of her.

I arrived and she greeted me at the door wearing a sports bra and something spandex, between shorts and boxer briefs. I recognized a few girls from the team sitting in a dining room watching a clip on someone's iPad. Bri took me by the hand and led me up the stairs to her bedroom. It was tidy and slightly minimal. I took my textbook out of my tote and sat down at her desk while she sat on the bed.

"How's your shoulder?" I asked.

"It's tight."

"Do you want me to try?"

"Sure."

I got on the bed behind her and began feebly working my thumbs into her soft tissue. She was so tall that I had to kneel on the bed to reach her shoulders. This lasted about one minute before she put her hand on my hand, turned around and kissed me on the lips. Now, this wasn't my "first kiss" (thank you Will Murphy), but it was my first real kiss that meant something. We rolled around on her king size bed (a luxury in these parts, especially compared to my XL twin. I guess she is a giant, though) while her enormous hands explored my body. She grabbed my ass with two greedy handfuls and squeezed.

"They told me you traded for me...because of my ass."

Bri let out a deep belly laugh.

"They weren't wrong. You in those khakis? Dead. Besides, what's wrong with liking a little thickness? Also it wasn't just that. It's that you're an innocent young thing with a body made for sin. My favorite combo."

She laid me naked on the bed and ate me expertly (I think? I can't imagine it getting much better than that). When I started to come, I held my hand over my mouth to keep myself from screaming and startling the whole house. Then she lowered herself over me and sat on my face. It wasn't 69 (she's way too tall for that) but I found her clitoris and tried to mimic what she had done to mine. I got the hang of it after a little while and she seemed to enjoy it (trembled, shook, went limp). She climbed off of me, lifted me so that I was sitting up, and brushed her wetness from my chin with her thumb.

"I want you to do that to me everyday. Understand?"

I nodded.

"Good girl."

I left shortly after, my textbook regrettably uncracked. But all night and all day, all I've been able to think about is the smell (probably just in my imagination at this point) and those two words: good girl. Until tomorrow.

Sept. 15

I've started spending as many nights at Bri's as I can. Margo complained that the room always smells "funky," and frankly, she's right. I'm too embarrassed to face her. But every time I'm alone, I just keep thinking about the things that Bri does to me...I've never, ever known even a fraction of this pleasure. Strap-ons, butt plugs, ball gags, bondage...she gave me her collar and walks me around the house with a leash when no one's around. It's insanely debasing, and yet, I can't get enough. Is it because I was conditioned to associate thoughts of my body with shame? Sexually...societally? Perhaps. Probably. But when it feels this good it doesn't matter the cause. She wants me. She traded to get me, and now I'm hers. Jesus it's only been a week. Am I that easy? Yes. I guess I am. Until tomorrow.

Sept. 24

Classes are going well. Still easier than high school, thankfully. Which gives me a lot of time for extra curricular fun.

The team beat _______ State in a pre-season scrimmage, which apparently never happens. Bri scored thirty points and attributed the win to her good luck charm (yours truly). She said she wanted to share her good luck charm with the team, and though I was nervous, I was excited by the idea. After the scrimmage we went back to the basketball house. Bri dressed me in some lingerie. Then she blindfolded me, gagged me, and tied me to the bed with a wand buzzing on my pussy (I was propped up on a body pillow). She'd given me instructions about what noise I should make (in lieu of a safe word, since I was gagged). Then she placed a small foam ball in my hand and said "the minute you drop this ball, everything will stop. You may be a little slut, but you're my slut. I want to work you over, but I mostly want you to be safe. If anything gets to be too much and you forget how to grunt, drop that ball." Then it was quiet. I was alone in the room. The only sound was the buzzing of the wand. It was impossible to know how much time transpired. It could've been five or twenty minutes. Then I heard the door open.

"Look at you. Look at that ass. I should never have traded."

I heard Ella's footsteps as she took in the scene.

"And I thought I had Grace well trained. But look at you. A little over two weeks and you're getting gangbanged by the team. Bri is a 'once in a generation talent," alright."

Suddenly I felt the sting of her open hand on my left buttocks. Then again. Then once on the right. I whimpered.

"Ooof...look at that dump truck. I can't believe I traded you. Oh, well."

Then with that, I felt a finger tracing my slit. I was ridiculously wet--no lube would be necessary. Ella appeared to come to the same conclusion, because I soon felt the head of her prick poking at my lips. It parted me and I felt it fill me. Maybe I was biased, but she was not as good at fucking as Bri. Her strokes were shorter, and less assured. Still, something about being exposed and shared made the whole thing hotter. I moaned low in my gag, feeling her thrusts against my backside. She continued to spank me as she fucked me and I squealed. Then I had my first orgasm of the night. She patted me on my exposed ass and withdrew the prick from me.

"I hope we have a good season. This is the best incentive I've ever had."

The door closed. I was alone again with the whirr of the vibrator. Then the door opened. Heavier footsteps this time. She said nothing. Like Ella, she traced my slit. I felt her thumb part my lips, gather some wetness, then paint it across my clit.

"So wet," said the voice, though I didn't recognize her. Probably one of the Black girls on the team, just from her voice, but that only narrowed it down to about five people. She was more assured in her fucking. Nice, long, confident strokes. She spanked my big ass cheeks too, and I was sure they must be redder than hell already. I had a full-body orgasm, and then she left.

This continued on with two more girls. I was conscious of the ball in my hand, but I never had any desire to let go. The fifth time the door opened, I could tell from footfalls and just general aura that Bri was in the room.

"You've got rave reviews, cupcake."

"Thank you, Daddy," I mumbled through the gag.

"You're such a good slut for me, my little good luck charm. I'm going to do something special."

She unbuckled the ball gag and pulled the blindfold from my eyes. The room was bright. The binds on my hands and wrists were undone and I was just lying on the body pillow with the wand still vibing my pussy. She lifted me effortlessly and placed me on my back next to the body pillow. Then she used her deft lips and tongue to bring me to two more orgasms. I was so worked up that I legitimately worried I might die (I don't know--too horny, high blood pressure? It was irrational, I know). When she brought me to the cusp of the second orgasm, I paraphrased Ivan Drago in my head and said "If she dies, she dies." I let myself go and felt immeasurable pleasure. Bri held me close, my comparably small body enveloped by hers.

"You're such a good girl, baby. I'm so glad I traded for you."

"Me too, Daddy."

"This isn't too much, is it?"

"No, Daddy. It's what I always wanted."

****

I heard the garage door open. They were home. I stashed the diary back in Melissa's bag and went downstairs.

"Well, how was it?" I asked.

"It was great. Bri hit a leg press PR. I did thirty minutes on the elliptical."

"And I got some canned cranberry. Bri's family always does canned cranberry, and I want her to feel like she's at home."

"Wonderful," I said, forcing a smile.

"Thank you, Corinne. And thank you, too," Bri said, looking at me, "for your hospitality. I so appreciate you opening your home and your life to me."

"Oh, well thank you, Bri. What's mine is yours."