Getting Back In The Game Ch 04

Author's note: I wanted to do something a little bit different with this story. There's some sex in this one, but also a fair bit of story to help drive the characters along. If you're just looking for a fuck-filled romp, this might not be for you.

*****

I woke up to a very familiar, enjoyable feeling, and opened my eyes to Emily administering long, sweet licks to my member. As I blinked away the sleep and smiled, she took me deep into her mouth, gazed up at me, and smiled as she half hummed and half moaned around my cock. "Good morning Mr. Clooney," she purred, as I ignored the lame joke and let her continue on her mission.

She plunged down and went to my base, and as she started to do her should-be-patented throat massage trick, I decided not to lean back, but instead reached out and guided her elbow up to me. She slid off my pole for a second.

"Uh-uh, I'm still sore from last night," she countered. I smiled a bit—it had been pretty damn intense, not that it wasn't always with Emily, and the third and last round I had been slamming her so hard I was almost scared I would hurt her. She had finished up by asking me to put a very thin vibrator up her ass while I was pounding her, which was a new one for even our feverish fucking, as her backdoor was normally a one-way street I didn't even attempt to tread down.

I didn't say anything, but I must have had a disappointed look on my face, because she looked at me and quickly said "All right, fine," with mocking resignation, and as she climbed on top of me and fluidly inserted me into her wonderfully tight cavern, she lowly said "Let me set the pace, lover. I really am still sore."

"We don't have to," I countered, as I tried to slow her and partially disengage, but she grabbed my hands and pinned me by my wrists as she beared her pussy down on me.

"No, I think I need a bit more from you, Mr. Clooney," she smiled. Again I ignored the dumb joke, and worked my hips up gently in rhythm with her. She smiled and purred a bit. "Mmmmm. Yes, this is exactly what I needed to set my day right."

It wasn't the crazy, frenetic fucking we usually snapped right into, but it was fun, fluid, and enjoyable. Emily leaned forward, kissed me passionately, and grabbed on to my triceps as she ground her pelvis down at an angle. I felt her lube freely, and realized that despite the lack of animalistic carnality, she was definitely enjoying this. She reached down and started flicking her tongue against my nipple, and then moved up to kiss my neck. I let my hands travel down her back and wandered to her ass, squeezing her cheeks before I slightly spread them, knowing the added tiny bit of extra penetration would send her over the edge.

Sure enough, after another minute or so, I started to notice her breathing getting even more ragged, and as I started giving her just a little more force, she impaled her self fully down on me, and I felt her usual vice grip pussy contraction (I often swore that I couldn't pull my cock out of her at this point if I wanted to and tried with all my might), and a small spray of her cum. Her eyes rolled back forward, she smiled at me, and sheepishly said "Sorry, bit dehydrated." I shook my head and smiled at her to indicate I understood and didn't care. She quickly grinned again, and said "Okay, well, let me return the favor," as she started to dismount.

I grabbed her hips and shook my head. She looked at me questioning, and I responded "Just keep doing what you're doing." She smiled, and came down a little bit quicker, and as she got back into a rhythm, I relaxed and let the feeling wash over me. Truth was, though I would have liked to go on for longer, I knew she was probably in a hurry to get out the door and get ready for work, and I wasn't feeling like lingering in bed all morning, either. So as she kept going, I started thinking about cumming, and smiling to myself on how, at her age some 20+ years ago, I had tried desperately to not think about cumming. Ah, the effects of aging...

I kept moving my hips upward, and shortly I started to feel that familiar rise in my balls from somewhere very far away. She sensed it, because she started in with a string of dirty talk obviously designed to help me along. "Are you going to cum for me baby? Fill my pretty little pussy up with your thick ropy spunk? Fuck me hard until it leaks out the sides of my tight little cunt? I want to feel you cum in me deep, pump me full, baby!"

It had the desired effect, and I groaned a heavy release as my seed finally shot out and filled her. I only felt about three or four spurts jet out, and a few dry contractions, but the relief was palpable, and as I started to feel those last few pumps, she had a small contraction of her own, and her pussy tightened and gave off a small additional bit of lube. She kissed me deeply, caressing the side of my face. We lay there for a few moments, catching our breath, and she smoothly slid to the side of me.

"Mmmmm. Thank you, that was a way better start to my day than coffee," she said. I grinned back, and she pecked me on the lips as she got up and began grabbing her clothes from various corners of the room. "Hmmm..." she said, and I noticed her pushing her finger up her swollen opening "you didn't cum very much."

"You pretty much emptied my balls yesterday," I countered, smiling. "Three times is a lot for me, especially when it's that intense."

"Yeah," she nodded, grinning. "Oh, and you forgot about your lunchtime treat." She had snuck over on her lunch break to blow me as well, that's right. I had needed a nap to get rested for our date.

We dressed and made a little small talk, and on the way down the stairs, I noticed Erin, my daughter, was eating breakfast at the kitchen nook. "Good morning Daddy. I went to Mickey-D's if you want some," she said, indicating the bag on the counter.

"Thanks honey," I responded. I walked Emily to the door.

"So I have my brother in town for a couple of days," Emily began, and I nodded—her parents had repeatedly told everybody about their son returning from his first year as a US Embassy counsel in the middle east both in person and all over social media, but then again, I understood their pride. "So I probably won't see you a lot this week. But he goes back sunday and I'm free after that."

I smiled and came back with, "That sounds good."

"Ok. I'll text you," she said, reaching up and kissing me. But instead of the normal tame peck she usually gave me in front of Erin, she grabbed the back of my head and gave me a rough, tongue-filled kiss. "I'll see you later, Mr. Clooney," and she bounded out the front door.

I turned around to go get food, and saw Erin giving me her patented "You're a douche" look. "What?" I said, knowing full well what was coming.

"Mr. Clooney?"

"Bad joke. Don't ask," I said, reaching into the bag.

"I will again and again until you tell me."

"No."

She shrugged, but I knew she was just waiting to regroup, and my only hope was to distract until I could make my escape. I bit into the sausage-based greasiness.

"That girl is loud," she observed.

"Loud? That was her being quiet."

"Wow," she muttered. "I guess I've never been around when you two are going at it."

"Yeah. Sorry about that, I'm sure it must be a bit off-putting to hear your old man getting some."

"Meh," she responded. "Not the worst thing I've ever heard. That was probably you and Mom the first time when I was old enough to know what that was. Honestly, I'm more just glad you finally are. Though I need to talk to her about not sucking your face in front of me. Kinda tacky. I get it, she likes whatever you're laying down, but I don't need to see that shit."

"Yeah," I said, with probably a bit too much defeat in my voice. We sat in silence for a few moments, just looking at each other.

"Boy trouble?" she asked me, going back into an old banter we frequently used.

"Yeah. Girl trouble?" I played back.

"Yeah." We sat, eating for a few more seconds, before I broke the silence.

"You first."

"Okay," she began. "Ryan is enlisting in the service in a few weeks." My eyes must have popped out, given her reaction. They had both met in ROTC in college, but Erin was merely looking at it as added credits and maybe a way to help fund grad school through the reserves. Apparently her boyfriend felt different.

"What?!"

"Yeah. He told me last night. And he also asked me if I would marry him," she added. "He wants a family and kids right away."

I held still on my stool, trying not to pop off. I knew if I reacted too hard any one way it would be bad, so I just carefully said "What are you going to do?"

"What can I do? I'm going to break up with him," and I sighed relief inside. "Dad, I'm 22, and I've still got grad school and all sorts of other things to do. I know I'm not much younger than you and Mom were when I was born, but I'm not ready, and anyway, I know I was an accident."

"One I've been grateful for every day..."

"Yeah, I know. But still, I'm way too young for all that. But you know how traditional and Catholic his family is. And I think since his Grandma died last year, he's been having guilt and conflicts. He even told me once a few months ago that he felt guilty about us having premarital sex, but his priest said it was okay if he was repentant and willing to do the right thing by me!"

"Are you fucking serious?" I shot back.

"Yes! It's nuts. And I'm not getting married now, not to anybody."

I shook my head, taking it all in. "Damn. I'm sorry."

"It's ok. I've honestly been at a crossroads with the whole relationship for some time now. This is just a catalyst for some other things that have been brewing in me. Nothing serious," she added, eyeing my concerned look. "It's just been that I've been questioning if this guy is the one, you know? We have a few major things in common, but there's a few things that are difficult for me. The political, religious, etc."

I nodded. Ryan was fairly conservative, rather traditionally Roman Catholic, and though Erin didn't fit the birkenstock-wearing, unshaven armpit stereotypes of most college campuses, she was an avowed feminist and came from a long line of progressive-leaning types, so they would tend to bicker a lot about some pretty big points. And while I liked Ryan plenty—he was respectful, gentlemanly, intelligent, a handsome boy that looked good next to her, and treated my daughter like the princess I thought she was—I wasn't entirely shocked at this revelation of hers. Just at the way it was going down. I exhaled and shook my head.

Erin considered me for a moment, smiled, and said, "So, tell me about your boy trouble, Mr. Clooney."

I ignored the dig. "She's just getting a bit clingy."

"Like how?"

"She texts me a lot. Always telling me how much she likes me."

"Okay. She's a college girl. That's standard."

"It's more that that. It's supposed to just be a fling, she and I, but lately it's been a lot more...she's been a lot more...tender."

"I thought I was noticing that."

"Yeah."

"Dad, it has been six months. It might be time to end this before anybody gets hurt."

I exhaled loudly. "I know. I thought that before as well. She's going to be leaving in a month for grad school though, and I was hoping that would be my exit. You know, gracefully with anybody getting butt-hurt.."

Erin nodded. Emily was very proud that she would be attending Boston University's Law School in the fall. And I had viewed it as my graceful segue away from whatever the hell it was we were doing.

"She's been mentioning coming back on her breaks, though, and putting some point on the words," I continued. Erin groaned. "I know, I know. I was hoping she'd go get a boyfriend or a steady something, and forget about the old guy back home."

"Apparently you do something that gets the young girls to swoon."

"I guess."

"Hey, at least Cece got a boyfriend," she reminded me.

"Good thing too. I was sore every time after they both visited."

"I'll bet."

"Yeah. Although she's told me that if she breaks up with him, the first place she's showing up is here."

"Ha!"

We sat in silence for a second. "Erin?"

"Yeah Dad."

"Are you really sure you're okay with this? I mean, I know I've asked you before, but still..."

"Dad, as long as nobody gets hurt, I really couldn't care less."

"That's what I'm worried about most, is hurting one of your friends."

"Yeah."

"I'm glad we can at least talk about this. I have the feeling that if I told any of my buddies about this set of issues, they'd either hi-five me or blab about it by accident. Neither of which I need right now."

She smiled big, took the last two bites of her sandwich, got up, kissed me on the cheek, and said "I have to go shower. I work at 11." She paused. "Relax, I know you'll do whatever's right, and it'll all work out in the end. Remember what you always say to me, if it's not all alright..."

"It's not the end. Yeah."

She smiled, then stared at me for a second. "What?" I finally asked.

"Mr. Clooney?"

I sighed. "You know that show we were watching a few months ago, where the one player character talked about how he was entering his 'Daddy issue years, his Clooney years?' How it was going to appeal to all the young babes. Well, that's the reference."

"So, she's talking about..."

"Fucking me because I'm older-guy hot in her eyes, and also that she apparently has Daddy and older-man issues."

"Eww."

"Exactly."

"Eww."

"Yeah. If the sex weren't so good I'd probably have run away by now."

"I'm shocked you didn't anyway. Eww. Okay, now I definitely need a shower," and she padded off, shaking her head.

The day passed without incident, and the next day Erin informed me that her attempt to break up with Ryan hadn't gone the way she had planned, and they had instead agreed to discuss their future and not make any commitments externally until they figured out some issues. She figured going away for a weekend was the best way to do this. So I bid her farewell, and enjoyed my empty house—for about 3 hours. Suddenly, the reality of a house with no daughter, no booty call, and just a dog to keep me company, really started to get to me.

I tried to keep busy. I went to the gym. I cleaned, even though the cleaning lady I had come in every week was awesome and there was little to do. I ran the dog. I watched two movies, and did work I didn't even need to do. Still, I was restless. So I was almost relieved early Friday afternoon when the door rang, even though I was expecting no one and figured it was probably just a Mormon or something similarly silly.

I opened the door to a very distressed Courtney crying. "Oh my god, Courtney, are you okay, you look awful?!" I winced at my own occasional lack of tact as I shooed her inside.

"I'm fine Martin," she spat out. I gazed at her with a look of obvious disbelief. "Well, obviously I'm not right now, but I will be. Is Erin home?"

"No."

"Sorry, I saw her car out front, and didn't see yours, so..." she trailed off.

"Yeah, she and Ryan are camping this weekend," I explained. "I made them take my SUV because I figured it'd be better for the roads they'll be on. And safer."

She smiled at me through the tears. "You're such a good dad."

"I try. I don't always feel like it, but I try," I responded. "Sit down, I'll get you something to drink." She started to protest, but I immediately cut her off and forced her to sit down.

"Thanks. Do you have anything cold?"

"Iced tea, water, juice, and there might be a couple sodas in the back of the fridge, I can check," I called out over my shoulder.

"Iced tea will be fine," she said.

I poured her a glass, brought it to her, and smiled at her. Her tears seemed to be slowing a bit.

"Thank you," she quickly drank, then we sat in silence for a second. I decided to just wait for her to speak. A full minute plus elapsed on the wall clock before she broke it. "I don't want to talk about it," she said.

I repressed a smile, knowing that usually means a girl wants to talk all about it, but on her time and terms, and instead replied with just a simple "Okay." She looked at me questioningly. "You don't have to talk. You can just drink iced tea. Or I can cook you some food. Or whatever. I'll just distract you until you feel a bit better. I would ask that you not drive again until you feel a bit more calm again, though, please. For your own safety."

She just smiled a small smile, slightly rolled her eyes at me, and muttered "Such a dad thing to say."

"Well," I shot back, "I am a dad, as you've already observed."

Under her breath, she murmured something that sounded like "I bet Emily calls you daddy."

"What!?" I exploded, probably a bit too aggressively. She immediately looked guilty.

"I'm sorry Martin. I'm really sorry. That was crude and uncalled for. I'm really sorry, I didn't mean it," she said, casting her eyes downward. "I'm just a bit upset right now."

I took a deep breath. "So you know about that."

She nodded, "Yeah. A few people do."

"How many?" I inquired.

"About a half dozen, probably. Nobody that'll tell," she offered. I sat in silence for a bit. This was the part I didn't like. The feeling icky, like perhaps I had something to be ashamed of.

"Look, Courtney..." I began, and she tried to cut me off, but I forced forward anyway, "I don't want you to think I'm some sort of sleaze ball for screwing around with Emily..."

"And Cece," she deftly added.

"And Cecelia," I repeated. "I was just having some fun..."

"Look, Martin, no disrespect," she interrupted. "I didn't mean to be snarky, I'm just a bit bitter and angry right now. And I'm sorry, I didn't mean to say that and I actually respect you and think you're a good father. Erin is one of my best friends and I even though I love my parents to death, I've always thought she was pretty lucky to have a dad like you. I'm really sorry. Can we please change the subject?

"Sure, what would you like to talk about?"

"Romanian clowns, I don't know," she joked, and we shared a brief giggle. "I was really hoping to see Erin instead of you—no offense—so we could talk and have some time to bash men."

"None taken," I reassured her. "Well, is there anything I can do for you?"

"No, I don't think so."

I let her sit for a second. "I think you're wrong." She looked at me with confusion. "There's always something. Let me ask you, when you were upset as a kid, what did your folks used to do?"

"My dad would take me out for a drive and we'd get ice cream and go to the mall and make fun of people," she said with a slight smile.

"Sounds perfect. Let's go."

"But that's me and my dad's thing."

"Ok, today I'll play the part of your dad," I retorted.

"Fine," she said with an eye roll, rising up off the couch. "But can we take my car? I hate Erin's car, it's so small."

"I'd rather take the new toy," I said as I led her into the garage. She stopped and stared at the Corvette convertible. "I just bought it two days ago. It's not new, just new to me, but I like it," I beamed.

Courtney giggled and asked "Can I drive?"

"No," I said smiling. "But I will buy your ice cream."

We got in, and I navigated the car out of the garage and down toward the nearby mall. Courtney was clearly digging the wind in her hair, and put on the top 40 station I disliked most. I shrugged it off and figured that if listening to some girly pop would cheer her up, I was okay with it. So we rode without speaking to the mall, then got out and found a frozen yogurt franchise she indicated was "legitimate." I smiled, bought her frozen yogurt, and we sat down on a bench in the middle of foot traffic as she took the lead.

Pointing at a young man in biker leathers and a scruffy teenager beard, she said "Hell's Angel apprentice." Then, indicating a rather butch, muscled girl with a mullet and vest, said "Lesbian Rambo." We giggled a bit, then she bumped me and said "You try."