Football Sunday's with Dad

This is a story of fiction. I do not condone behaviors described in this story. It's sole purpose is entertainment.

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Life is funny and weird sometimes. You can live a good, normal life, then make a spur-of-the-moment decision that changes everything. Why you made the decision doesn't make sense to you, but it changes you and the people you care about the most. I am unsure if it was a good decision or a bad decision. I don't know if I had a do-over or if I would change it either. Anyway, here is my story.

Let me start with who I am. My name is Julie, and I am twenty-five years old. I live in a quiet suburban town that I grew up in. My mom and dad live next door to me with my little brother, Tommy, in his senior year of high school. When I was younger, my parents had built an addition to our home for my grandmother. It allowed her to keep her independence while my parents could care for her as she got older. My grandmother passed away when I was in my junior year of high school, and my parents couldn't bring themselves to rent the apartment. When I graduated the following year, my parents talked me into taking over the apartment to keep me from moving away for college. What they didn't know was I had no intention of moving away. Also, I wasn't convinced that college was for me. I liked living at home. I had no desire to miss my family, and I loved watching football on Sundays with my dad. We were all in a fantasy football league and were extremely competitive.

Thanks to my parents, my upbringing was normal. I was in no hurry to leave. Moving into the apartment next door was a perfect scenario for me.

I helped my father do the updates to the apartment before moving in. I enjoyed learning how to do repairs and updates with my father. He wanted to ensure his daughter would never depend on a man for anything, so he always involved me on repairs around our property and our cars.

Once I moved into the apartment, I decided to attend a local community college and got a job at a convenience store. Two years later, I got an associate's degree in business administration and was already the manager of the store.

Here I am, seven years later, enjoying my simple life. I worked forty hours a week. I had no rent, kids, or outrageous debt, so money wasn't an issue. I could go out with my friends when they had free time from marriage and child responsibilities.

I continued the tradition of watching football with my dad on Sundays and spending time with my brother, Tommy. My mom and I had a great relationship even though she wanted me to get married and have kids. Don't get me wrong; there were times when I wished I had someone to come home to. I would watch my friends with their kids and think about being a parent, but I never met anyone who I loved enough to want to spend the rest of my life with. Or maybe I was too selfish to give up my quiet, comfortable life.

I dated occasionally. I wasn't against finding someone. To be honest, I am not a bad looking woman. I have a cute face, light red hair, and light blue eyes, which I have been told are mesmerizing. I do not have a Barbie Doll build, but I have curves. I am a thick woman. Thick thighs, wide Irish hips, with a round, thick bum. My waist is appropriate for the thickness of my lower body. If I had to point to a negative feature of my body, it would be my b-cup breasts. I never complained about my breast size because I was comfortable with the rest of my features. We can't all be perfect, right?

This brings me to the point where I made a decision that changed everything. As I have said, my father and I watch football together every Sunday. Tommy stopped watching it with us last year. He preferred to hang out with his friends. My mother never watched with us. As a matter of fact, she hated that I liked football so much. Last season, my father and I decided to watch the games in my apartment. This made my mother happy because she could enjoy a quiet day while Dad and I could watch the game in peace. We would prep our food early in the morning, and by one o'clock, we'd be ready for the games to start. Typically, we would sit on the couch while hooting and hollering until the games ended around seven-thirty. Before the game began, I would change into PJs, and we'd check our fantasy football standings to see who was ahead for the day. I usually settle in for the night after the night game begins. It started innocently during a night game midway through the football season. I had changed into my typical shorts and tank top. When I returned to the couch, I put my feet on my father's lap, which has been routine throughout my life.

"Dad," I asked in my whiney voice.

"Yes, Julie," he replied sarcastically.

Still using my whiney voice, I asked, "Will you rub my feet, please?"

My father gave me a phony, annoyed look. "You are a brat. You know that, right?"

I gave my dad a big, flirty smile and teased him, "I will make it up to you, Daddy. I promise! I will owe you." This behavior between the two of us was normal. I realize that if people were watching us behave like this, they would think it was weird, but it is how we were with each other. We only behaved this way when we were in situations like we were in now.

As he rubbed my feet, he said, "You already owe me. I'm saving up all your IOUs to cash them in all at once."

I jokingly teased, "Don't threaten me with a good time, Dad." I turned over onto my stomach to give him better access to the bottom of my feet. I liked it when my father would rub my feet. Something about his strong, callused hands gently rubbing my feet made me feel good. My dad is an old-school man. He still works six days a week, building decks and additions to houses like it's nothing. He was a good earner for our family. More importantly, he was a great protector. Having him do something so trivial as rubbing his daughter's feet showed his sweet, caring side, which wasn't always visible.

My father had made me so comfortable I was struggling to keep my eyes open midway through the game. He must have assumed I had fallen asleep because he stopped rubbing me. I wiggled my feet on his lap as I joked, "Don't slack off now. Feet don't rub themselves." When I did this, I felt my father's bulge in his pants. This was the first time I had ever noticed this. Was my father getting hard, I thought to myself. I thought it was funny at first. I would occasionally rub my foot back and forth on his crotch to fuck with him. He showed no response when I did this. He just kept digging his fingers into the arches of my feet, which felt amazing. The more I teased him with my feet, the more he dug into my arches. We did not speak during this back-and-forth teasing we did to each other. However, I did realize that he was growing every time I rubbed my foot across his crotch. My father's hands then roamed to my calves. This was new, I thought. We still didn't say a word to each other. Honestly, it felt good having a man's hands rub my legs. I would never have guessed how good my father was with his hands. Sure, he had rubbed my feet before, but this was different. Having his hands on my legs felt different, and I wasn't complaining. I decided to keep my mouth shut and enjoy this feeling for as long as possible.

When the game ended, I was in complete comfort. I did not want to move when my father gave me a light spank on my ass. "OK, time for me to go home. I had fun today."

The slap surprised me. It snapped me right out of the trans I was in. Dad had never done that before. We were silly with each other, but we were never touchy-feely with each other. I wasn't offended, and as a matter of fact, I used his slap as a challenge. I wiggled my ass as I told him, "I'm sure you did have fun copping a cheap feel, Dad." Then I giggled to let him know I wasn't offended by him touching my ass.

"That wasn't a cheap feel, Julie. That was me cashing in one of your IOUs. Now get up and lock the door." My father must be tired, I thought. He was frisky tonight and had an answer for everything. I walked him to the door. Dad turned to me, "Give your father a hug." I wrapped my arms around my father's neck as he wrapped his arms around my waist. I don't know if it was because we teased each other physically or if my awareness was heightened, but I do not know if we ever embraced with my arms around his neck and his around my waist. It seemed different. When we pulled back, he came in to kiss me, which was normal. What I didn't expect was me turning my head the wrong way. We ended up kissing each other on the lips.

We were both startled by our missed connection. I immediately started laughing. "Fuck, sorry about that, Dad. I turned my head the wrong way. I need to get some sleep. I can't believe I did that."

My father grinned. "Sure, you did. Get some rest. You're silly when you're tired." Then he patted my ass again and walked out the door.

Again, I was taken aback by the pat on my ass. This whole night had me spinning. I'd be lying if I said I wasn't all worked up. I chalked it up as innocent mistakes and fun. I went to bed, revisiting the night's events in my head. I used those thoughts to help me while I pleasured myself. I never thought of my father in a sexual way before, but tonight, I imagined what it be like to be with him while I brought myself to an intense orgasm. When I was done, I thought to myself, 'Julie, you really need to get out and date more.'

The following night, my dad said he might not be able to come for the game. We were in a deadlocked tie for our fantasy football league. We both had a player playing in the Monday night game. I texted him my disappointment. I told him he wouldn't come because he knew he was going to lose this week's fantasy football game. We texted each other, talking shit back and forth throughout the day. From what I understood, my mother wanted to spend time with him, and they were going out for dinner. I was disappointed but happy they were going out for a date night. I decided not to let my father get off easy. I texted him, "How about if I win, you rub my feet and legs for the entire night game on Sunday? If you win, I will do whatever you want me to?"

My father is a man of few words at times. His text simply said, "Deal."

I got myself comfortable for the night on my couch. I had ordered food that showed up right before the game. I was curious about what he would have me do if I lost the bet with my father. My brain ran off with thoughts that were sexual. I was trying to figure out why I suddenly had these thoughts about my father. These thoughts made me feel like an oddball. Of course, I knew he would never do anything like that to me. I reasoned with myself that it was OK to fantasize about stuff like this. I also knew I was going to win because my player in the game was the hottest receiver in the league, and my father had the shittiest kicker in the league playing tonight. I ended up falling asleep on the couch. I missed the entire game. When I woke up in the morning, the first thing I did was check our league. Just as I thought, I won the game. Typically, I'd be happy. I'd be lying if I didn't say I had wondered what my dad would have made me do if he had won. I texted my father, "Make sure you lotion those hands because you will be doing a lot of rubbing on Sunday."

The only response I got was, "Keep talking shit, young lady. You should be glad you won. I had something for you to do that would keep your mouth from talking. LOL."

There was a lot to unpack in that statement. It could mean something very innocent, or it could have been something very provocative. The way my mind has been playing tricks on me, I decided to leave it alone. "You lost, so we'll never know if you would have shut me up. See you on Sunday." It was only Tuesday and Sunday couldn't get here fast enough as far as I was concerned.

I saw my parents during the week as I usually did. Even though we talked about our league, I never brought up the bet my father lost. Tommy was in the league, too, and he would chime in on how he was in first place. He reminded us that he barely made any moves to his roster and still wiped the floor with us. He then said he might come and watch the games with us on Sunday. Usually, I would be happy about this. But I knew there would be no way I could collect on my winning bet if Tommy were with us. I looked at my father to see if he had a reaction. He smirked at me, which caused me to kick him in the shin under the table. It didn't faze him. He kept the smirk on his face.

On Saturday, I asked Tommy if he wanted me to grab him anything from the supermarket for Sunday, even though I had already gone to the supermarket. I was searching to see if he would be coming on Sunday. Selfishly, I was hoping he was not coming. Around nine, I got a text from Tommy. "Hey, Sis. I'm not going to make it tomorrow. Sorry. Maybe next week." I loved my little brother but was thrilled he wasn't coming.

I decided on Sunday morning that I was going to dress in my comfy clothes. I did not need to leave the house, so after I showered, I put on a pair of loose-fitting shorts and a tight black tank top shirt. As usual, my father showed up at noon. It looked like he had the same idea. He always dressed in jeans and a T-shirt. Today, he had sweatpants and a t-shirt. I joked, "Dressing casually today, Dad?"

My father snickered at me. "Looks like I'm not the only one going casual today." He put his beer in the fridge and then headed right for the couch.

I knew my outfit may not have been appropriate. My shirt was tight, and I skipped wearing a bra for the day. I did not leave much to the imagination. My shorts were loose, and if I wasn't careful, you could have a clear view of my privates. I decided to be comfortable, so I didn't wear any panties. Although I knew my father would be giving me a foot massage, I didn't think he would take sneak peeks at me. I asked, "What's wrong with my outfit? I think it's cute."

My father started being frisky early. "Well...You do look cute. But no matter how cute you look, I'm not rubbing you all day. I was really hoping to win that bet."

I felt he wanted me to ask him what he would have me do, so I asked, "Really? What is it you think I would agree to do that would keep me from talking? HMMM...I wonder what goes on in your head sometimes." I was curious. I knew it wouldn't be what I had been thinking about, but I was curious. My brain has been mush all week.

Dad chuckled, "Unfortunately, you'll never know. Get comfortable. The games are about to come on."

We ate during the first game, which was an exciting back-and-forth offensive battle. We were dreading the four o'clock game. We both knew it was going to be a blowout. Our home team was playing in the night game. That's what we were waiting for. I was looking forward to having my father rub my feet while I watched our home team play for a playoff berth. I fell asleep during the second half of the second game. Before I knew it, my father woke me up for the home game. I was asleep for about two hours. My father told me, "I was going to let you sleep through the game so that I could renege on our bet."

I laughed as I told him, "I woulda been so pissed if you didn't wake me up." Then I got up and went to the bathroom to put some water on my face. I was hoping to wake myself up. I hadn't slept well since last week, and it was catching up with me. I have been waiting all week to hang out with my father. I didn't want my exhaustion to interfere with tonight. I laid on the couch when I returned to the living room. I said, "I know the game hasn't started yet, but you might as well start now," as I put my feet on Dad's lap.

To my surprise, he responded quickly. "You're right. No time like the present," as he drove his fingers into the heels of my feet. After a few minutes, he asked, "You wanted me to rub your calves again, right?"

This was the first mention of last week's events by either of us. I thought about his question briefly before responding. "As long as your hands are moving, I will consider your debt paid." I shifted my body to get more comfortable. I moved my body closer to my father while resting my feet on his crotch as I had done last week. I could feel his manhood under my feet as I placed them on his lap. It was more evident than last week because of his sweatpants. Then I asked, "Are my feet good there?"

Before he responded, I felt his hands on my claves. "Yup, works for me. I'll Keep my hands moving. Easy enough for me." I believe we both were looking to see what the boundaries were. Again, I had thoughts all week about my father, but I knew he wouldn't be inappropriate with me. I justified my thoughts by thinking it was normal to fantasize about stuff like this. We would never act on them, obviously.

As the game began, my father's hands roamed over my calves. There were instances where they would move to the back of my thighs. When he did this, I needed to catch my breath carefully. I didn't want to make him uncomfortable with my deep breathing from his fingertips driving into my thighs. I laid there thinking how wrong it was for me to feel this way from being touched by my father, but I convinced myself that it was OK because it was normal for a woman to get excited from being touched. As long as my father couldn't hear my deep breaths, it was OK. Neither of us spoke while my father's hands continued to wander. Which worked for me.

Right before halftime, I felt the tips of my father's fingers lightly trace the inside of my thighs. I waited to see how far he was going to go. I was shocked when I felt them continue under my shorts, brushing my slit as they continued up to the crack of my ass. I felt the chills run through my body. My ass involuntarily lifted slightly as my feet pushed down on my father's crotch. I could feel my father's hardness growing under my feet. Again, neither of us spoke a word as his fingers descended back down my thighs until they focused on my calves again. Not only did my brain go nuts, but my body was going nuts. I could feel my juices flooding my vagina. I realized this was not a situation he or I could act on. I assumed he was as nervous as I was about what just happened, and I didn't want my father to freak out at my response. I didn't know if I should tell him to stop or keep going.

As the game went into halftime, my father slapped my ass as he had done the week before. "OK, it's halftime. I'm going to use the bathroom. Do you need anything while I'm up?"

This time, his slap had a different effect on me. I don't know if it was because of my heightened sexual state, but his slap caused another wave of chills. I didn't want to move, nor did I want him to stop having his hands on me. "No, Dad. I'm going to use the bathroom after you." We both moved as if nothing had happened. I knew I was beet red from being worked up and embarrassed by what had just happened. My father exited the bathroom and went into the kitchen for a beer. I got up to use the bathroom. Telling him, "I'll be right back."

My father told me, "I'll be here when you get back unless you want me to head home?"

This was his acknowledgment of what had just happened. He was looking to see if I was upset about our crossed boundary. I knew I needed to think my answer through before blurting out an unfinished thought. I processed my thoughts quickly, thank God. "The game is not over. Why would I want you to go home," I asked. I was curious how he would respond.

"Just making sure. I don't want to keep you up if you're tired. That's all." I could see that my father was quickly processing information as well.

"I'm good, Dad. You don't need to leave. I'll be right back." To be honest, I think we both needed the break. We were pushing our boundaries, and I think the halftime kept us from getting caught up in a major mistake. When I went to the bathroom, I saw how red I was in the mirror. I washed my face with cold water, hoping it would help with the redness and cool me down. I could feel my wetness from what had transpired a few minutes ago. All I could think was how I needed to get my shit together. As I entered the living room, I asked, "Game start back up?"