In a recent email exchange with my lover, I remembered a fantasy I had about my high school boyfriend's dad, Mike. I started to write it all out in our emails, and before long I was masturbating to it, confessing all kinds of dirty things. Although the story below is fictional, the fantasy was very real to me when I was 18 years old. There were so many moments on Mike's back porch when I used to wish for this to happen. I've included a few sentences of my email exchange, and then the fantasy below. I hope you enjoy it as much as I did!
***
I've had another orgasm imagining all of this and I felt sort of guilty about it, so I thought I'd unburden myself here. Something tells me you won't judge me too harshly. :) I feel like such a bad girl...
xoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxooxoxox
J
You are a bad girl, and you have me smiling big.
Xoxoxox
R
***
I am... a very bad girl... I can hear him saying that to me in my ear, in that deep husky voice.
I'm wearing Jeff's white button down shirt, a little drunk from being out earlier that night. The top few buttons are undone so that you can see the round fullness of my tits and the depth of my cleavage every time I lean down. The bottom of the shirt hangs to the middle of my thighs, just barely covering my ass as long as I don't bend over. And I have my panties on too, always the same black cotton string bikini ones I wore in high school. No pants, bare feet, my long brown hair in a tousled ponytail, a little damp at the nape of my neck from sweat. Of course, I've just been fucked. Jeff's still in bed watching the movie we'd popped into the VCR. I always do this, come down for a cigarette after we fuck, and if there's a bottle of wine open in the kitchen, I pour myself a glass. Jeff has the coolest parents. They never seem to care about that kind of stuff.
As I file down the last few stairs that lead into the living room, I glance at the sliding glass door to the back porch. Mike's sitting there at the patio table with his back to me, cigarette in hand, glass of red wine on the table. I can't help but smile when I notice that Katherine is nowhere to be found. I love when it's just him and me. I pour myself a generous glass of wine before slipping out back, startling Mike a bit, but he smiles when he sees that it's just me. "Mind if I join you?" I ask a bit breathlessly, already pulling out the seat next to him and making myself at home.
"Of course not, Joanna," he smiles and slides his pack of Marlboros across the table towards me, his eyes darting up and down my body almost too quickly for me to notice. Almost.
"Thanks," I chime a little too cheerfully, pulling a cigarette from the box. I look around for a lighter but he has it in his hand already, flicking it for me. I lean in towards him, inhaling deeply, trying to keep my eyes on his. I think of all those old movies where the sexy, confident man lights a woman's cigarette and they hold gazes just like I'm doing with Mike right now.
"So," I exhale and tap my cigarette onto the rim of the ashtray. "What were you thinking about all by yourself out here?" Mike smiles in his sexy way and I feel my pussy swelling a bit, moistening again in my panties.
"Oh nothing interesting... just work stuff," he replies, blowing a thin stream of smoke out into the night. I can't help but smile, admiring how the smoke curls from his lips like a whisper. "How about you," he grins. "Are you having a good night?"
I try not to smile too obviously. Mike knows what we do in Jeff's room before I come downstairs for this smoke. In fact, sometimes he's in his bedroom next door to us while we're doing it. Sometimes I wonder if he can hear, and what he can hear. Can he decipher my little whimpers, my moans when Jeff fucks me deep and rough? Does he hear the sound of Jeff spanking my ass, telling me what a bad little slut I am, while he fingers my hot pussy? Does he ever wonder what it would feel like, my little teenage cunt wrapped around his cock, this man old enough to be my father who I flirt with at every opportunity?
"Oh, I always have a good night when I come over to your house," I say with a smile, unable to look him directly in the eyes as I think of all the things his son has done to me tonight. I take a sip from my wine and stretch my legs under the table, flinching slightly when I feel Mike's leg brush against my bare thigh. I look up at him and bite my lower lip. I know he felt it too.
"Well," his voice shakes a little but his gaze is steady, first locked on my eyes and then traveling lower, to my mouth, watching me wrap my full lips around the cigarette and suck on it slowly, "it always sounds like the two of you are having fun." He laughs a little nervously. "Not that I eavesdrop or anything..."
"Of course you don't." I look up at him and smile, stretching again but this time letting my leg sweep along his more slowly, more deliberately, my bare foot resting along his ankle. He looks at me curiously but says nothing. "I'm sure it wouldn't be that interesting to you anyway," I giggle.
"Oh I wouldn't say that, Joanna," he replies, his voice lowering a bit, the expression on his face a little more severe than usual. "Sometimes I'm very surprised by what I hear." I can feel the blush spread across my cheeks as he says this, like I've been found out, like I'm getting in trouble. I open my mouth to say something to lighten the mood but nothing comes out. I can't even look at him.
When I bring my cigarette to my lips we both realize that my hand is shaking, the cigarette quivering in the air. I hear him chuckle softly and I finally bring myself look at him. His eyes are fixed on my trembling hand. "Nervous?" he asks, with an amused smile.
