Parker always wears a tie when he comes to pick me up even though he's working from home these days as a consultant; he knows how I like to see him in a suit and tie, so proper and remote, it makes what will eventually follow that much more of a thrill and I like how long it takes to undress him.
I pretend sometimes it is me seducing him instead of the other way around, as if I hold some secret power he can't resist, that just being around me cracks his tough business exterior and what's inside is pure desire for me. Sometimes this seems true, he gets a look in his eye as I unknot his tie, slip it loose and work my way down the buttons of his shirt.
The one time I surprised him at his office with a mid-day visit, he looked so good to me, I couldn't resist slipping his belt and trousers open and taking him into my mouth. He just stood there stunned by my boldness, by the presence of his co-workers on the other side of the door, but he relaxed in no time as I worked my tongue down the length of his cock, deeper and deeper till the fat tip pressed against the back of my throat.
I loved the look of him, still buttoned and secured with a tie, but rapturous and aching, watching the length of his prick sliding easily between my lips. He smiled down at me, his hips quivering, and in a matter of minutes I had brought him off with my inappropriate behavior.
I hear my house mate inviting him in, wrongly identifying him as my father. Parker plays along, we decided this would be easier in advance, if we just pretended everything was what it seemed from the outside.
I grab my bag and take the stairs two at a time just as my house mate is on her way up to tell me he's here. I have to restrain myself from leaping into his arms but I can't resist a tight hug and a kiss on the cheek, a silent inhale to catch the smell of his aftershave and his body beneath. The effect his physical presence has on me after two weeks of being apart is incredible; I can feel my heart jumping, and the distant, warm ache between my legs.
We drive half the first hour home in giddy silence punctuated now and again with breathless phrases-- "I missed you so much!" "I can't wait to get home." We stop at a small Greek restaurant for dinner and I babble about school, the classes I like best, my professors and classmates, and all the while he listens carefully, beaming at me. He tells me about work, the changes that have come about, and how he likes working from home less than he thought he would.
"The house is so empty without you." He sighs. "Everything reminds me of you." He's smiling, though and I know he doesn't resent the fact that I decided to go away for school, he knows it's best for me in the long run; I'm a spirit who won't be tamed and he's come to simply be thankful for the time we spend together.
He asks if I've met any boys, smiles slyly as he sips his water, and I know he's curious as to what my social life is like without him.
"Not really ... but my drawing teacher is pretty cute."
"Oh? A nice young professor is he? Giving you private drawing lessons I bet."
He smiles, teasing me, and I sink into a familiar feeling of being loved, utterly, endlessly loved by him. I smile back, feeling woozy and warm.
"Oh no. He's OLD. Like 40 or something. And he calls me 'Pet' and pats my ass when he walks behind my drawing board." I make him laugh using the joke name Parker gave me to make us look more like a father and daughter. He knows I'm smart enough to keep my head, and hold tight to my self-respect. But I wonder if he knows how devoted I am to him, how he's become the standard that every boy or man I meet must measure up to, or how many have already failed.
"Ready to go, Pet?" he asks, winking. I nod and follow him out the door. It has started to snow, those dazzlingly large snowflakes that build up quickly covering everything with a clean layer of fluff. I wonder how much will accumulate and think fondly of snuggling inside for the whole weekend, wrapped in quilts and each others' arms and legs.
Two more hours till we're home. I can't wait to get there. We talk very little on the drive, mesmerized by the falling snow as it lights up in our headlights. Every once in a while I turn to watch him as he drives. He is so handsome it takes my breath away and makes me quiver inside.
At night, away in my apartment at school, it is his face I see when I close my eyes. I cannot often resist the urge to remember his skilled fingers and mouth, his patience and pace, and how he could work me up to a shattering orgasm, so intense my moans would turn to tears and I'd come almost sobbing with joy.
"You ok?" He asks casting me a funny look. "You made a noise."
I can't help but blush, caught in my memory. I smile and assure him I've never been better, just can't wait to get home.
