After the Funeral

Hi! My name's Ellie. I used to live pretty wild and stupid, but then I had a baby and I decided to try and be smarter. Inside, though, I'm still as impulsive and hungry as ever. Sometimes, to help myself work through the drive without acting out, I sit down to write about it.

Today is sort of a two-fer. I hope you don't think I'm too twisted.

In case you're new to my little fantasies, you should know that I'm eighteen and in good shape, but I'm not a skinny little thing or a super model. I work hard to keep my 36C breasts and 34-inch hips nice and shapely, though. I have long dark hair and my eyes shift between chestnut and mahogany depending on the light. I usually wear glasses and a nose-stud, and I almost always dress to show off cleavage.

I have a friend named Kim, the same age as me. She's a petite blonde, probably a full three inches shorter than my own 5'3". Her figure is cute and perky, tight but not flat. Her eyes are wide but thin, her lose angular, and she has a slight, adorable over-bite. She always has a lot of eye makeup on.

We're not that close, but we've known each other pretty much since I moved out here.

Her dad was one of my teachers at church. Her dad, Mr. James, is also one of the hottest white American guys I've ever met. Ex-military, he's tall and strong with dark, wavy hair, five o'clock shadow at all hours of the day, and the straightest posture I've ever seen. His shoulders could carry the world, and his arms look ready to wrestle or embrace at a moment's notice. He's sweet and gentle, but has a commanding presence and takes no nonsense. When he likes you, there's always a little flirting in his eyes. I always knew it was innocent, but it didn't stop me from dreaming.

Those dreams took on new life when his wife got cancer and had a long, painful two years in and out of hospitals. Mr. James' loneliness was plain. And it made me want him even more.

His wife passed away in November. Seeing him standing at the grave in his black suit, his only companion his pretty but sullen daughter in a black dress, I felt compelled. As usually happens with me, my perfectly innocent and sweet emotional interest took no time at all to turn into imagined debauchery. I was wearing a dark grey dress that was tasteful, but snug and had a keyhole to my cleavage. Perfect for comforting the widower who had suffered loneliness for two years.

At least in my mind...

I go up to Mr. James after the service and ask if I can help at all. Go home with them, cook their lunch, make sure the house was in order, things like that, she they can just relax. Smiling with sad eyes, Mr. James thanks me.

"That would be very helpful, Ellie. Thank you so much. You're so thoughtful."

I smile a little, but manage to keep it subdued.

Throughout lunch, I'm very attentive to Mr. James, very solicitous and concerned. Afterward, when Kim goes to her room to lay down, my friendliness becomes slightly flirtatious. A few more smiles. Something just shy of a wink. Even a comment about how handsome he is, followed by an immediate laugh.

Eventually, I sit next to him on the couch, very close. I look at him. I know that I can't play this slow. If he has too much time to think about it, he'll never sleep with a girl the age of his own daughter. I lay my hand on his thigh.

"Is there anything else I can do, Mr. James?"

He places an innocent arm over my shoulders. "You've done enough, Ellie. You've been a big help. You have been a big help for a long time."

I smile just a little. "I hate seeing you so lonely."

"Goes with the territory."

I turn slightly toward him and allow my hand to slide inside his thigh. "It doesn't have to."

He looks at me sharply, but doesn't move his arm. "Ellie, I'm not sure what you mean, but loneliness is just part of life."

I lean my weight into him, bringing my hand up inside his thighs until it is resting on his package.

"Ellie!" Now he moves his arm. "You're a pretty girl and very sweet, but --"

I rub at his crotch, slowly, gently. His manhood responds almost instantly. He squirms, trying to make space between us.

"Ellie, we can't do that."

I lay my head on his chest, and keep rubbing at his crotch. "I just want you to feel less lonely, Mr. James, at least for a little while."

"I appreciate that Ellie, but it's not a good idea." He gets up off the couch and walks across the room. I rise and follow up, reaching around to pull down his zipper and work on his belt as I lay my breasts against his back. "Don't you want me, Mr. James?"

"Ellie." His cock sprung out of his pants and I wrapped my pretty little hands around it. "I think you can tell that I do want you."

"Then what's wrong?" I slide around in front of him, kissing his beautiful manhood. My mouth is moist, and my tongue is cool. I leave smears of dark lipstick on his strong sex. "I'm eighteen."

"I know, Ellie, but --" Even though he's protesting, his hips are now swaying gently, rubbing his hardon against my cheeks.

"Then what?" I ask, running my tongue around him. "You're lonely and you want me, and I want you and want to make you feel good." I take him into my mouth.

"Ellie, it's been so long," he groans. His left hand braces himself against the wall. His right slides into my hair. He rocks slowly in and out of my mouth. "And it feels good, but we can't do this."

I say nothing. I just suck and slide up and down his shaft. And then I hum.

"Ellie, we can't do this."

"How long has it been?" I ask, stroking his throbbing cock while I pull out his balls and nibble on them. "Since you've felt like this?"

"More than two years," he admitted.

"Then don't hold back," I beg, sliding my mouth around him again, fucking him with my face as hard as I can.

"Ellie, please -- please -- stop, Ellie -- please -- oh -- oh god, Ellie --"

"Cum for me, Mr. James, cum in my pretty mouth."

And he does. It's been too long. He has no stamina.

He cums so much and so suddenly that I can't keep up with it, and while I swallow much of his creamy seed, a lot spills back out onto my face.

"Ellie, I'm sorry."

He's still hard, and I rub his cummy cock all over my face, smiling up at him. I take off my glasses and stand up. I take his hand into mine, and start walking toward his bedroom.

"Ellie, what are you --"

I don't say anything. Once we're in the bedroom, I slip out of my heels and crawl onto the bed he once shared with his wife. I want to give him a new memory, one not of loss.

"Ellie, we can't --"

I grab his hand again and pull him onto the bed with me. I kiss his mouth and begin stroking his still-hard cock. "We can."

"But I can't --"

I reach up my skirt and pull down my black panties. I wave them under his nose and then lay them on the bed. "You can do whatever you want, Mr. James."

We're still mostly dressed, but the protesting is over. Mr. James is on top of me, his weight almost as comforting as it s pressuring. My legs spread wide and my dress rides up to my hips. He thrusts and he's inside me.

"Oh god, Ellie, it's --"

"I know," I say, slurping on his tongue and rocking up against him. "It's been so long."

"No," he says, kissing my throat and pawing my breasts through my dress. "It's never felt like this. I'm not saying it's better. But it's different."

I squeeze my inner muscles on him and try to hump up at an angle. "Welcome to a new world, Mr. James."

"It's an amazing world."

"Yes, it sure is."

He strokes in and out, then a little to the left, a little to the right, using his rod to pry open my gates. I roll roll my hips, squeezing my muscles with every thrust. Soon I'm so swollen that he can't help grinding against my g-spot.

His stamina is better now, and his cock strokes me with tremendous power and skill. I cum before he does, but not long enough before for him to have pulled out and he empties his second load deep inside me.

We cuddle for a little while, but when he falls asleep, I decide to go see how Kim is doing.

Kim is asleep, too, on her bed, still in her black dress. She's laying on her belly, and as if seeing her for the first time I notice how cute her backside is. I remember how sad she was at the funeral, and I think I owe her a little cheering up, too.

I sit on her bed. She doesn't stir. I stroke her legs gently and she wakes. She looks back at me. I run my hand up under her dress. No panties. Her ass is tight and silky.

Her expression is serious. "I'm not into girls," she says, "but if you can make me cum hard enough to forget how much it hurts right now, you can do whatever the fuck you want to me."

I bend down and kiss the back of her calves. The back of her knees. The back of her thighs. Her breath is sharper. She's not talking, not making noises, but her body is responding.

Moaning, I brush her dress up to her waist and ran my tongue around her round ass cheeks. Then I kneel behind her and lift her small form up, bringing her shaved pussy to my mouth as the dress falls down to her shoulders. My tongue slides along the length of her, parting her labia, and then, with a mouth that recently held her father's semen, I feast on the pretty little delicacy.

I pull her legs over my shoulders. I rub at her clit. Her face pressed into the mattress, Kim grunts helplessly. This isn't love-making, it's one friend making another cum. It's sex at its most mechanical and animal.

But the taste and the smell of her, the feel of her on my lips, the touch of her legs stretched over my shoulders, the sight her petite body splayed helplessly in a line from my mouth to the bed . . . It's driving me insane.

Kim is getting close. She starts squealing. She almost sounds like she's in pain. She's biting at the mattress.

With a loud, piercing scream, her body bucks once -- twice -- three times, and she becomes slippery enough that I just let her fall to the mattress.

Too hot.

I lay back, pull my dress up, and start two-handing my cunt. One hand holding myself open, the other frigging my slit with three fingers.

Overcome by the obscenity of our moment, Kim says, "Fair's fair," and places her cute face between my legs. She rubs her cheeks on my thighs and purrs. "Thank you, Ellie."

I grab for her hair or her ears or anything to pull her mouth close me.

She crawls up and kisses around my labia and then licks at me.

She pauses. There's a taste and a texture she knows is masculine. "Who's cum is that?" she asked.

I crook one leg around her neck, blocking off her escape route. "Your dad's."

"oh my god," she says, horrified. "You were fucking my dad?"

I use my leg to pull her face to pull her back in. "Yes, sweetie, I was, and he came inside me."

"God, I don't want to eat my dad's cum."

I wrap my other leg around her leg, holding her in tight. "Fair's fair," I remind her.

Sighing, she reaches out with her tongue and begins a slow exploration of my womanhood. The sensual bathing increases my already tremendous arousal, and the scent and feel of me has an unconscious effect on her, despite all her intended objections.

I stroke her hair lovingly.

She laps at my pussy more aggressively, occasionally sucking at my clit.

"Finger me," I finally beg.

Her mouth centers on my clit and she inserts one finger within me. I feel her pressing against my swollen inner walls. I groan.

She finds my spot, and it only take a few strokes to push me over the edge.

When I cum, I release my hold on her, and stare at the pretty girl, panting. "Thank you, Kim I know you didn't really want to do that."

She doesn't smile. She doesn't say anything. She just parts her lips and begins slurping traces of her dad's cum from my labia.