⋆˚𝜗𝜚˚⋆

But you know that your dad mentioned that Joel was gonna stop by and pick up some tools he wants to borrow for a weekend project and—that could be nothing unusual, since Joel has been like an uncle to you while growing up but right now with the house so empty and your thoughts running, you find yourself giving in to that secret itch, straddling your old stuffed bear on the bed.

That plush toy, with its threadbare fur and button eyes, has been your guilty escape for years, especially with thoughts of Joel creeping into your fantasies back then—his broad shoulders, that deep voice, the way he handles everything around the house while having that strict, authoritative way about him—the same tone your dad uses, only sharper, meaner, and somehow aimed always right at you.

Your skirt is bunched around your waist, panties tugged aside, and you're rocking slowly, the soft seam of the bear's belly pressing juuuust right against your aching clit.

But lost in the rhythm...you do not hear the front door opening downstairs.

Heavy footsteps echo up the stairs, pausing outside your door. A knock—light, hesitant.

"Hey, kiddo? Your dad around? He said he'd leave them tools in the kitchen, but I figured I'd check up here too." Joel's voice; that thick, rough, southern drawl wrapping around the words like warm gravel. 

Before you can even respond, the door creaks open, and there he is...tall and big, flannel shirt sleeves rolled up over forearms corded with muscle, jeans hugging his solid thighs. 

His eyes widen as he takes in the scene: you frozen mid-grind, thighs spread over the bear, your face flushing hot with embarrassment.

"Jesus fuckin' Christ," he growls, "What in the hell are you doin', girl? Humpin' away on some goddamn stuffed bear like a bitch in heat? Your daddy'd skin you alive if he saw this shit." 

He doesn't yell. Yet. But there's an edge to it, stern, like he's caught you sneaking cookies, not this. 

His jaw tightens, and he averts his eyes for a beat, rubbing a hand over the back of his neck, the picture of a man wrestling with himself. 

'Shouldn't even be in here. This ain't right. Girl's barely outta her teens, and here I am, starin' at... fuck.' Guilt flashes across his weathered face, creasing those lines around his eyes, but his boots stay rooted to the floorboards. 

He doesn't back out. Instead, his gaze flicks back to you, conflicted, a flicker of something darker stirring beneath the disapproval—his jeans tensing slightly at the crotch, betraying him.

You scramble to pull your skirt down, heart pounding, but the words stick in your throat. 

"Joel, I—it's not what it—" 

He steps closer, slow, like he's approaching a skittish animal, his big frame making the room feel small. 

"Save the excuses, honey. What would your daddy think, huh? Me walkin' in on his little girl like this, all desperate and spread out on a damn toy? He trusts me to look after you when he's out, not to...hell, this is a mess." His tone's firm, paternal almost, laced with that sternness, but there's a coo in the way he says 'honey,' softening the rebuke just a touch. 

He reaches out, his large hand gentle as he grips your upper arm, pulling you off the bear with ease. 

The toy tumbles to the side, fur matted with your slickness, and you stand there on shaky legs, panties still to the side, feeling tiny next to him.

"Now, you listen here," he says, guiding you to sit on the edge of the bed besides him as he lowers his weight onto the mattress. 

His thigh presses against yours, warm and solid, and you can feel the heat radiating from him—the hard line of his cock straining against his jeans, impossible to ignore. 

"You're better than this, sweetheart. Rubbin' yourself raw on some childhood relic 'cause those boys at school ain't cuttin' it? That's no way to learn about your body." He pauses, hand resting on your knee, thumb traicng slow circles. "But actin' like your uncle, I gotta teach you right. Can't have you hurtin' yourself on nothin' but fluff."

Your breath hitches at the contact, arousal pooling hotter despite the embarrassment. 

"Joel, please...I didn't mean for you to see," you whisper, but your eyes drop to the bulge in his pants, betraying your thoughts.

He chuckles low, a rumble in his chest, but it's not cruel—more like a man who's seen too much and knows how to handle it. 

"Oh, I see plenty, girl. And that pretty face all flushed? Makes a man wanna help." His hand slides up your thigh, calluses rough but careful, pushing your skirt higher, taking a peek of your pussy. "But first, a little reminder of what happens when you get into trouble. Over my knee—c'mon now."

He pats his lap sternly, but his eyes soften. "It'll sting, but you'll thank me later, honey."

Trembling, you drape yourself across his lap, ass up, the position exposing you fully as your skirt flips over. He's so, so big—your small frame fits perfectly over his thick thigh and you feel his hardness press against your belly, a promise of what's to come. 

"Good girl, takin' this like you should," he murmurs, praise slipping in before the first smack lands—firm but measured, the crack echoing softly. It stings, heat blooming, and you yelp, tears pricking your eyes.

"Easy now," he coos, hand rubbing the spot immediately after. "That's for bein' sneaky in your daddy's house. He raised you all good—don't need you ruinin' it on toys."

Another spank, a bit harder, on the other cheek, and you squirm, the friction against his cock making him groan quietly. 

"There you go, your skin's turnin' pink so pretty."

He alternates, five or six measured swats, each followed by a stroke or a soft word—"Breathe through it, baby, you're doin' fine" building the burn without overwhelming.  

Tears well up, spilling hot down your cheeks, and he notices, thumb brushing one away when you turn your head. 

"Cryin' already, huh?" He chuckles. 

By the end, your ass throbs, red and sensitive, panties soaked through. 

He helps you up gently, but his eyes darken as he tugs the fabric aside, exposing your dripping folds, middle finger touching your lips. 

"So wet from a spankin'. Pussy's all shiny and swollen—too sweet for what those boys got, I bet. But I can fix that, teach you how a real man handles it."

His middle finger stays between your folds as he stands, unzipping his jeans, his cock jumping free—massive, thick and veined, easily bigger than anything you've ever had. 

"Back on that bear, c'mon" he orders, guiding you with a hand on your waist. "Gonna show you the difference, but you grind nice and slow—learn to build it just right." 

You straddle the toy again, the fur already damp and sticky from before, a yucky reminder as it clings to your slick skin. 

Lowering yourself, you begin to rub tentatively, the plush dragging against your clit in messy slides—gross, the way it mats further with your arousal, but thrilling under his watch.

Joel positions himself behind you on the bed, his weight making it dip, hands spanning your hips easily. 

"That's it, babygirl, move those hips," he praises, voice gravelly as his cockhead nudges your entrance, hot and blunt. But he doesn't thrust yet—teases, sliding along your folds. "Feel how big I am? Your little hole's flutterin' so scared but wantin'. Your daddy would have my hide for this, but you need teachin'—can't let you settle for less."

Guilt flickers in his tone, but he presses forward, just the tip nudging you, stretching your tight walls with a burn that makes you gasp.

"Oh—Joel, it's too much," you whimper, tears starting again, body tensing as you grind on the bear, the fur chafing wetly, adding to the overstimulation.

"Shh, easy, sweetheart," he coos, one hand stroking your back tenderly while the other fists your hair lightly, not yanking hard—just guiding your head back to arch you. "Breathe, honey. You're so tight, squeezin' like you were made for this fat cock. Just the head—feel it? Push back slow now."

He inches deeper on your movement, talking you through each bit: "There, darlin', another inch. Your pussy's openin' up so good, even if it hurts a lil'. Cry if you need to; those tears tell me you're feelin' it right." 

He groans when you sob, his hips twitching, but he keeps it paternal, praising: "Good girl, takin' your lesson."

One hand grips your hips, his cock entering your walls. "Going deeper now—yeah, juuuust like that."

You rock on the bear, the wetness intensifying—the plush soaked, strands sticking to your thighs and folds, a filthy grind that makes squelching sounds with each roll. It's degrading, the childhood toy turned lewd, but his voice anchors you. 

"Grind harder on that thing," he instructs, meaner now. "but don't you dare to cum yet. Earn it by lettin' me fill you proper." 

He sinks halfway, the stretch agonizingly full, your small hole straining around his girth. 

"What would your daddy say? Hm? His girl stretched on her uncle's dick."

Tears stream freely now, mixing pain and pleasure as he bottoms out finally, balls resting against the bear's fur. 

"All in—feel me in your belly? Hold still, darlin', adjust to it." He holds, stroking your sides, cooing praises: "Proud of you, takin' every inch like a champ." 

Then, after a while, thrusts start—slow drags out, then pushes in, talking through them: "Out easy...easy. Now in...deep. That's it." 

You cry harder, the dual sensations overwhelming—the bear's damp fur rubbing your clit in sticky, gross friction, his massive length pounding relentlessly. 

"That's it...real deep." He whispers. 

"Joel—please, it hurts so good," you sob, grinding down.

"Yeah? Tell me more, honey," he urges, hand leaving your hair to cup your breast, thumbing your nipple. "How's that big cock feel compared to your toy? Deeper than any boy could go—gonna make you forget 'em all." 

His pace builds, hips snapping, but he denies you—slowing when you clench. 

"Not yet, babygirl. Hold it for me. Cry those pretty tears but don't cum." 

Minutes drag, drawn out with his mix: harsh commands like 'Take it harder—learn it, that's it.' and tender coos like 'Almost there, baby, you're perfect.'

Your tears straining your cheeks, your cunt clenching down, as you try to hold the orgasm.

"Milking me so well. Pussy is eager to cum, huh?" He asks, stroking your sides. His thrusts quicken, head pressing right into sweet spot in you.

Finally, as your body quakes, he growls approval. 

"Alright, cum now, honey. Real slow. Let go around my cock and on that bear." His thumb presses your clit against the plush, rubbing through the mess, while he pushes his cock deep into your cunt. You shatter—screaming, tears flooding, grinding wildly as waves crash, his thumb amplifying the release. 

Joel follows, burying even deeper, cock releasing hot spurts and filling you up slowly. "That's it, here it comes. Take it real deep into that small pussy."

He collapses over you briefly then, breath hot on your neck, cock still releasing the smallest amounts of cum into you. He pulls out slightly, watching everything drip down onto the bear. 

"Your dad's gonna kill me," he mutters, his hand strokes your back almost tenderly. "But you needed that lesson. Don't let me catch you on that toy again—unless I'm here to fix it."

I feel like i could've made him a bit meaner...but idk.

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The glare you’re currently giving your sink would kill a grown man.

This really isn’t what you needed today. All you wanted to do was make some pasta and try to relax, but of course your sink decided it was just gonna…stop working. No water for you, but only in your kitchen!

“Fuck.” You hiss, turning the knob on and off again just in case. Nothing. “Piece of shit.”

Your mind immediately jumps to the one person you know can fix the sink - Joel. The single, grumpy man in his sixties that lives in the house next door.

Joel’s been a strange but constant presence since you first moved into this shithole of a house your grandpa left you - ever since he first helped you change a flat tire on your car, he’s found just about every excuse to come over and fix things around the house. He bitches and complains, but he’s always there when you need him.

That simple fact is the reason why you shrug on a jacket, jam your feet in your crocs, and head out the door over to Joel’s. It’s chilly outside, and other than your zip-up, your shorts and t-shirt are doing nothing to keep you warm. His truck is parked out front, but he’s not out on his porch like he usually is.

You trudge up the stairs and knock on the door. There’s a long stretch of silence before the lock turns and the door creaks open to reveal Joel’s handsome scowl.

“Somethin’ the matter?” You watch as his eyes dart behind you, assessing both your yard and his before returning to your face. You could’ve sworn he gave you an up and down, but you’re pretty sure you were imagining it.

“Nothin’ serious, my sink is just being weird.” You shrug, an aggravated huff lacing your words. “Can you come look at it? Please?”

Joel heaves out a sigh so great you’d think you asked him to remodel your whole kitchen in one night.

“Fine.” He grumbles, jerking his chin towards your house. “Get on back over there ‘fore ya catch a cold. I’ll be there in a minute.”

You turn and scurry back to your house, quick to shut the door against the chilly breeze while you wait for Joel. You toss your hoodie on the back of your couch and shuffle into the kitchen to glower at your sink. Your empty pot and box of dry noodles sit abandoned on the counter.

It’s not long before you hear the telltale sign of your neighbor’s arrival - two heavy knocks on the door, followed by a gruff ‘It’s Joel’. You open the door.

“Really? Thought is was the fuckin’ easter bunny.”

“Smartass.” Joel lumbers past you, toolbox in hand. “You want me ta fix yer sink or not?”

“I’m just playing.” You huff, hopping up on the counter. “You don’t have to be such a grump.”

Joel mumbles something under his breath but doesn’t say anything to you in return. He groans real loud when he gets down on his creaky knees to poke around under the sink; you barely fight the urge to make a senior citizen comment.

“What was the problem?” He’s shining a light under the sink now, looking at the pipes.

“The water’s not working. And yes, before you fucking say it, I did check the main. It’s on, and I have water everywhere else.”

A small smile tugs at the corner of Joel’s lips before he ducks under the sink. You idly watch his back as he messes around in the cabinet, jumping a little when he suddenly pops a hand out behind him and makes a grabby motion.

“Hand me that wrench there, wouldja?”

“Which one?” You slide off the counter and look in his toolbox. There are like….five different wrenches. Joel backs up enough to give you an incredulous look, like he can’t believe you don’t know exactly which wrench to choose.

“The pipe wrench, darlin’. What else?”

“What the fuck is a pipe wrench?”

“Christ.” Joel reaches over and snatches up what is apparently the pipe wrench, shaking his head. “It’s this one here, kid.”

“How was I supposed to know that?” You gripe, returning to your perch on the counter. “What the hell do I look like, a tool guru?”

“…smartass mouth.” Joel is grumbling to himself again as he once again dives beneath the sink. You roll your eyes - what a grouch. Joel spends about twenty minutes fussing with your pipes before he emerges again.

“M’gunna use yer bathroom.” He manages to heave himself up to his feet with a grunt. “Don’t break anything else.”

“You’re acting like I did this on purpose!” You scoff at him as he disappears down the hall. God, somehow he always manages to get under your skin. You pull out your phone to scroll on tiktok while you wait.

And wait.

And wait.

After what feels like fucking forever, Joel finally comes lumbering back in.

“Jesus, did you fall in or something?” You ask, looking up from your phone as he gets back on the floor with a grunt. “Get lost in the hall? Dementia finally setting in?”

“Shut yer goddamn mouth.” Joel’s head vanishes from your view under the sink again. His tone is clipped, sharper than before. You shift, falling silent. “‘N let me work on the sink.”

Joel avoids your eyes for the rest of the night. You wonder why long after he goes back to his house.

————————

Joel Miller is a sick, sick man. At least, that’s what he tells himself every time he catches his eyes lingering on you for too long.

Or when he sneaks into your bathroom, steals whatever pair of used panties are sitting on the top of your hamper, and jerks off with his face buried in them before shoving them in his pocket. Like he just did.

Joel feels filthy when he’s fixing your sink. He curses himself to hell when he tells you goodnight and trudges back over to his house.

But he still ends up with his nose in your panties and a hand fisting his cock.

Joel’s not sure when his problem started. He’s not sure when he stopped ignoring the way your music thumped the windows of your car and started trying to catch just a glimpse of you changing through your window when he was up early watering his plants. When he started making any excuse to come over and fix stuff just to hear you laugh, see you smile, or get a peek at whatever panties you wore the day before in your hamper.

He feels like a fucking hormonal college kid with the thoughts he has about you. He sees you getting your mail in those ratty old sweats, he’s thinking about the way they would look bunched around your knees as he bends you over the front porch railing. Every time you look up at him with that annoyed pout he’s imagining those same lips wrapped around his cock. You let out a satisfied little groan when you stretched once and Joel was immediately struck by the thought of wringing little noises like that out of you with his mouth on your pussy.

Joel doesn’t know what’s worse - the fact that he’s acting like this at his grown ass age of sixty, or the fact that you’re so fucking oblivious to it. Joel doesn’t know why you keep him around. He’s a fucking creep.

But he can’t bring himself to be the bigger man and stay away.

Which is why, the day after he stayed up tossing and turning and guilty over taking another pair of your panties, Joel finds himself back in your kitchen. This time he’s fixing the light over your kitchen table, since you apparently can’t be bothered to replace two burned out bulbs.

“I hate this fucking house.” He gripes, scowling as the bulb refuses to screw in for the fifth time. “Every time I come over some more shit’s not workin’.”

“I didn’t even ask you to fix that!” You’re huffy, throwing him a look over your shoulder as you pour two mugs of coffee. “You just showed up and started bitching!”

Joel huffs out something that sounds suspiciously like a laugh as he fiddles with the bulb. You’ve been in a mood since he invited himself over; he can’t imagine why, since it’s Saturday and he knows you have nothing better to do than entertain him.

“‘M bitchin’ because yer in here livin’ in shambles.” Joel scoffs. He finally manages to get the bulb screwed in, watching in satisfaction as it blinks on. “Seriously, darlin’, ya see how easy this was?”

“Yeah, it was soooo easy that you’ve been doing nothing but bitching since you started.” Joel looks over as you pour that overly sweet creamer in your mug. He can’t help the way his eyes fall down to your ass. “And it was just like, two lights. I was gonna fix them eventually.”

God, you gotta stop wearing those little sleep shorts. Joel is nearly drooling as he stares at the way your asscheeks are framed by the thin material. Jesus H. Christ, what he wouldn’t do to have his face buried there, lapping mercilessly at your cunt and feeling the soft press of your ass on his face while you choke on his dick-

“Hey, gramps, are you even listening?”

Oh, fuck. You’re still talking to him, your lips turned down in that little pout that always makes his cock twitch. He clears his throat.

“Nah, ya musta been yakkin’ in my bad ear.” He grins when you smack his arm, unamused. “Gotta speak up, sweetheart. Hearin’ ain’t what it used to be.”

“You’re annoying.” Joel loves the way your voice gets a little whiney when you’re annoyed. He wonders if you get the same way before you cum. “I said your coffee’s ready.”

“Thank ya kindly, darlin’.” He takes the mug from you and takes a sip. Black, hot, and bitter - just how he likes it. You always make it perfect. He gestures towards your cabinet with the mug. “That door’s still squeakin’ when ya open it. I can get my screwdriver and tighten them hinges.”

“Do you have, like, nothing better to do with your weekend?” You snort, looking at him over the rim of your cup. “Like, I don’t know…bingo? Knitting circle? Bird watching?”

“Very funny.” Joel’s tone is dry, and the look he gives you even drier. “And no, I don’t. Nothin’ on my schedule but botherin’ you.”

You mumble something about him being a ‘fucking asshole’ and he smiles.

Then your phone pings on the counter.

Joel glances down just in time to see the notification icon - a white flame against a pink background. Something sharp and hot twists through his chest.

“Didn’t know you were on them, uh, datin’ sites.” He doesn’t like how eager you are to snatch up your phone. Likes it even less when a little smile lights up your face.

“How the hell do you know what Tinder is?” You raise an eyebrow and look up from the screen to give him a look. “You gettin’ some action I don’t know about or something?”

The only action Joel’s been getting is his hand and your panties, but he’s not about to tell you that. Instead, he rolls his eyes and turns his attention back to his coffee.

“Shut the hell up.” He gripes. His eyes stay on the dark liquid for all of two seconds before they lock right back onto your face as you type out a message. “Who’re ya even textin’? One of them pretty boy types?”

“No.” Maybe Joel’s just delusional, but he swears you sound a little defensive. “Just a nice guy. Been talking to him for a few days, he wants to take me out this week.”

“Oh.” Joel ignores the way something bitter squirms in his stomach. “Well, be safe. Make sure he gets the door for ya, and don’t you pay fer nothin’-“

“I think I know how to go on a date, Joel.” That whine is back in your voice again. “I’m a big girl, I can take care of myself.”

“Right.” Joel grumbles into his coffee. “Of course.”

He fixes the cabinet hinge even though you tell him not to. Then he fixes your loose shower knob just for the hell of it.

He hates the way that bitter feeling sits heavy in his gut all day, even after he goes home.

————————-

You have to leave for your date in twenty minutes, and you have no clue what to wear.

You’re not even sure how nice you need to dress. All you know is you’re getting Italian, with no indication on the level of fancy required. Matt is sweet, but you wish he’d been a little more descriptive. Your anxiety is through the roof right now. And to make it worse, you can’t find your favorite pair of panties.

“This is so fucking stupid.” You’ve got your bad bitch music playing, Megan Thee Stallion bumping from your Alexa as you rifle through your closet. “Fucking…fuck. I’ve got nothing to wear!”

Okay, maybe you’re being a bit dramatic. You’ve got plenty to wear - you just don’t know what. And now you have about 12 minutes left to choose.

You eventually settle on a cute little sweater and skirt with white tights and chunky pumps. Nothing crazy, right? Casual enough for a family restaurant, nice enough in case it’s somewhere nicer. You keep your makeup classy; can’t go wrong with the tried and true combination of lipgloss, mascara, and eyeliner. And you’re only wearing cute panties because you want to. No other reason.

Joel’s truck is gone when you get in your car to leave. You wonder where he’s gone. He’s usually playing guitar on his porch around lunchtime. Oh well. Maybe he’s visiting his brother.

You’re relieved when you pull up to the restaurant. It’s nothing fancy, just a nice local spot. You see Matt standing on the curb outside, dressed…well, like he closed his eyes and picked his clothes.

“Hey, hi.” You get a noseful of Axe body spray when he goes in for a hug. “You uh, you’re awfully dressed up.”

“Oh, well, I didn’t think it was too dressy.” You cave to one self conscious glance down at your outfit before reminding yourself that you are not about to let a man wearing blue basketball shorts, a stained hoodie, and slides make you feel bad about your outfit. “Nice enough just in case, y’know?”

“Right. Sure, man.” Matt jerks his head towards the door. “You ready to sit down? I’m starving.”

“Yeah, uh-“ You’re cut off when Matt swings the door open and walks in, leaving it to almost swing into you. You jump slightly, catching it just before it hits your shoulder. “-oh, um, this place looks…good.”

Well, this is off to a terrible start. You’re holding onto the hope that things will improve after you sit down and start talking.

They don’t. In fact, they get worse.

Your thighs have barely touched the booth when Matt opens his mouth and starts talking. He goes on and on about himself - which is totally fine, except he doesn’t let you get a single word in. He just talks and talks and talks.

As soon as he starts talking about NFTs, you zone out. Your spaghetti and garlic knots become the most interesting thing in the world, and you’re glad the food is at least good as you sit and listen to Matt drone on.

Joel would listen to you talk.

The thought pops up unbidden, mid bite of spaghetti. You’re not sure why Joel of all people is on your mind right now. You chalk it up to spending too much time with the old man. You see him more than your friends.

“Everything okay?” You’re brought back into the moment by the arrival of the waitress. “Can I get you two anything else?”

“Oh, no, we’re good.” Matt’s talking before you can open your mouth, again. You frown, but stay quiet; you kind of wanted a cannoli, but whatever. “Can we get the check?”

“Of course.” The waitress grabs the empty plates. “Together or separate?”

“Separate.”

Joel would’ve paid for you both.

The thought lingers as you pay the bill and finish your soda. You’re just ready to go home; all the excitement over this date is gone, leaving you with that weighty feeling of disappointment.

“You wanna go to my car?” Matt sounds far too smug for a guy who just absolutely bombed a date. “I can take you back to my place.”

“I’ll have to pass this time, sorry.” You’re not sorry at all, but you try to at least look apologetic when you give him a half-assed smile. “Forgot I have to, uh, help my neighbor out today. He’s elderly, y’know?”

“Oh.” The obvious disappointment in his tone makes your skin crawl. “Are you sure he can’t like…wait? You don’t have to stay overnight.”

“No, he can’t.” Annoyance is quick to creep into your tone as you cross your arms against the cold. “I really gotta get going. Thanks for today, it was, uh…fun.”

“Right, well uh…I’ll text you.”

You really hope he doesn’t.

Your bad bitch playlist feels a little mocking as you drive home. You turn it up loud enough to rattle your windows in an attempt to make yourself feel better, but you’re still annoyed when you pull up to your house. A cute outfit, a cute face, your whole day wasted on some prick who didn’t even have the decency to hold the door.

“Un-fucking-believable.” You grumble, slamming your car door shut. You stalk up the porch stairs, your chunky pumps thumping loudly on the old wood, keys jingling as you unlock your door with more force than necessary. Your keys and purse get abandoned on the side table by your door as you trudge into your kitchen.

You’re half tempted to bust out your bottle of vodka to get drunk and watch edits on tiktok or take some cute pictures to help yourself feel better after that dogshit date, but you don’t get the chance to make a decision.

Knock knock! “It’s Joel.”

Of course it is. You’d been so wrapped up in sulking that you didn’t notice his truck back out front. You go to the door to open it; Joel’s dressed like he always is, jeans and a flannel button up that makes him look too broad to be fair.

“Were you just waiting for me to get home so you could bug me?” You ask, leaving the door open for Joel to find his way in. “You gotta get a hobby, man. Golf or something.”

“No, I wasn’t.” Oh great, he’s grumpy too. “Heard yer damn music ‘fore ya even turned down the street. Figured I’d come check on ya, see how yer, uh, date went.”

“My date fucking sucked, Joel.” You announce with a huff, digging in your cabinets for a shot glass. “It sucked, he was a douche, and I wasted my time.”

“Did he hurt ya?” It’s hard to miss the prickly concern in Joel’s voice. “Put his hands on ya?”

“No, no, he didn’t touch me.” You finally find your little pink heart playboy shot glasses. “You want a shot?”

“Hell no.” Shrugging, you pull out a single glass for yourself and your cheap vodka. More for you.

“Anyways, my date was ass.” You’re not sure why you’re ranting to Joel of all people as you pour yourself a shot, but here you are. “He was rude and boring and could not give less of a fuck about me.”

You feel Joel’s eyes on you as you knock back the shot. It burns all the way down and settles heavily in your stomach. You take a second to blink the sting out of your eyes before you continue to talk.

“It’s just - it’s so frustrating, you know? The dating pool fucking sucks. None of these guys know how to act or make you feel special.” You sigh, turning your shot glass over in your hand and staring dejectedly at the bunny head logo on the glass before mumbling, “Can’t believe I wasted a cute outfit on that jackass. Should’ve known better.”

Silence stretches between the two of you for a moment. You’re debating on taking another shot when Joel finally speaks up.

“‘S a real shame. Boys your age don’t know how ta treat a lady.” There’s something charged in his eyes when you look up at him. Something dangerous. “Ain’t fair to a pretty little thing like yerself, kiddo. Ya deserve to be spoiled and taken care of.”

“Yeah?” You let out a little laugh. Your stomach feels a little fluttery at his tone and you’re not sure why, so you hop up to sit on your counter to distract yourself. “And how exactly would you do it, huh? Enlighten me, old man.”

You’re not expecting him to indulge you. You wait for him to scoff, roll his eyes, grumble about you being a smartass and try to find something in your house to fiddle with.

Instead, he takes a step closer.

“First I’d take ya out somewhere nice.” His boots land slow and heavy on your kitchen floor, each step closer sending your heart rate up. “Whatever kinda food ya want. Let ya order the whole damn menu if it makes ya happy. Don’t matter anyways, since I’d be payin’.”

Even sitting on the counter you have to look up at him when he draws closer. His brown eyes are dark, but not in a way that makes you nervous. It only takes you a second to clock the feeling roiling around in your tummy - excitement.

“That sounds nice.”

“Oh you have no idea, sweetheart.”

He comes to a stop right in front of you, his thighs brushing your knees. You feel the weight of his gaze traveling over your body like a tangible, living thing. It makes your thighs squeeze together.

Joel notices.

“Then I’d take ya home.” He rumbles, ducking his head to catch your gaze and hold it. “Mine or yours, whichever ya wanted. Make sure yer comfortable, make ya laugh on the way there, maybe make ya a drink when we get in.”

The snarky comment you’re about to make about million year old whiskey dies on your tongue when his hands, big and rough, land gently on your thighs.

“Then I’d sit ya down and take off yer heels, just like this.”

You watch, stunned into silence, as Joel lowers himself to his knees right there on your kitchen floor. He settles with a groan, his hands sliding down your legs with a sort of reverence you’ve never experienced. His callouses catch on your tights as he drags his hands down, his palms warm when they settle on your ankles.

And God, the eye contact.

He holds your gaze as he unbuckles your pumps, sliding them off your feet one at a time and setting them neatly aside. Your heart is racing.

“Then…I’d take your tights off reeeeaaal slow-like.” His hands creep back up your legs, this time slipping under the hem of your skirt. “Lift your hips for me, babygirl. There we go, just like that.”

You feel like you’re in a trance as you lift your hips, letting Joel hook his fingers into the waistband of your tights and tug them down. The material rolls itself up as he eases it down your legs and pulls the tights off your feet. He sets the little bundle on top of your pumps.

“Next, I’d take a second to just look atcha.” Joel rocks back on his heels and does just that, his eyes searing as they travel over your body. Joel groans low in his throat. “‘Cuz Christ, sweetheart, you are a sight to behold.”

Oh fuck.

That goes straight to your pussy. Your breath hitches, cheeks flushing as you feel your panties getting damp.

“W-What would you do next?” Your voice is breathless and barely audible in the quiet of the room. The ghost of a smile tugs at Joel’s lips.

“Probably something like this.” You nearly pass out when his lips touch your skin. You have to remind yourself to breathe as he kisses his way up from your ankles, alternating between legs with every kiss. You don’t put up much of a fight as he nudges your thighs apart.

“God almighty.” Joel literally shudders when he presses his lips to your inner thigh. You watch, transfixed, as he nuzzles against your skin. “Yer a fuckin’ angel, baby. Too damn perfect.”

“Joel-“ You cut yourself off with a sharp inhale when he suddenly pulls you forward, pressing his face against your clothed cunt. He draws in a deep breath and then moans against you.

“Been dreamin’ about this cunt for months.” The confession is muffled by your panties, but you hear it all the same. “Fuck. Huffin’ yer old panties don’t even come close to the real thing.”

“What?” It comes out more like a squeak when you feel his tongue drag across the gusset of your panties. “Joel, what are you - what are you talking about?”

He doesn’t answer you right away. He’s too busy mouthing at your pussy like he’s starving, his breaths coming quick and uneven. You gasp when he sucks on your clit through the thin fabric.

“Mmmm…I’ve been a bad man, babygirl.” He pulls back just far enough to look up at you. “Stealin’ yer pretty panties before ya wash ‘em. Lookin’ atcha when ya change by the window. Cummin’ in my boxers like a damn teenager just from thinkin’ aboutcha.”

You should be disgusted. You should shove him away and tell him to get the fuck out of your house.

Instead, you moan. Loudly.

And Joel smirks like he just won the damn lottery.

“Oh, you liked that.” He coos, his fingers hooking in the waistband of your panties now. “You love havin’ this old man wrapped around yer pretty little finger, dontcha sweetpea?”

He all but rips your panties down your legs. The countertop is cool on your bare skin, a shocking contrast to the heat overtaking your body. Joel holds up your panties, admiring them.

“Ain’t seen this pair before.” He says, quirking an eyebrow at you as he balls them up and stuffs them in the breast pocket of his flannel. “They’re real purty, babygirl.”

“They’re, uh, they’re new.” You manage, the words catching in your throat. “I got them a couple w-weeks ago.”

Joel hums, dragging his face back up the inside of your thigh. His beard tickles your skin. “‘M gonna hang onto ‘em for a little bit, darlin’.”

Then his mouth is on your cunt. Your hand flies down to his hair, gripping those salt and pepper curls like a lifeline as he starts to devour you. His tongue drags through your soaked folds before plunging inside of you, his nose bumping your clit.

“Oh, fuck.” Your head falls back against the cabinet with a dull thud as you grind against Joel’s face. “Fucking god, oh-“

“Name’s Joel, honey.” Comes the smartass rumble from between your legs. “Say it with me now, ‘s not that hard.”

He shoves two thick fingers inside of you in one go, making you jolt with a squeal.

“Joel!”

“Theeeeeere we go.” He curls his fingers just right, bringing his mouth back down. “Atta girl.”

His lips wrap back around your clit. The sound of Joel slurping between your legs is obscene; the filthiness of it all has your toes curling and your pussy fluttering around his fingers.

“Knew you’d taste good.” Joel’s muttering and gasping between breaths, but you can barely pay attention to what he’s saying. “Prettiest pussy I ever saw. Knew she’d be sweet f’me.”

God, you’re already so close. His thick fingers are stretching you open, massaging your g-spot while he sucks on your clit. You’re a whining, moaning mess.

“Joel, please-“ The words come out as strangled gasp, your hips squirming against the counter. “I wanna, I’m so - please?”

Instead of answering you, Joel just doubles down. His fingers and mouth work together to bring you closer and closer to that edge until you’re cumming with a whimper, your cunt squeezing and gushing around his fingers. Joel licks up every drop and moans while he does it.

“Good girl, jesus.” Joel groans, pulling his fingers from you and sucking them clean. “So fuckin’ pretty when you cum for yer old man.”

Your thighs are shaking as Joel gets up off the floor, grunting when his knees crack. He wipes his mouth on the back of his hand, then leans in and kisses you hard. You moan into his mouth, tasting yourself on his lips as he slips his tongue past your own.

“Please let me fuck you, babydoll.” Joel pleads between kisses, his voice desperate in a way you’ve never heard. “Please. I need ta feel her milkin’ me, sweatpea. Need to be buried inside yer pretty cunt.”

Joel could ask you for anything right now and you think you’d give it to him. You’re nodding before he even finishes his sentence, your hands fisted in his shirt.

“Please fuck me, daddy.” Joel swears under his breath as soon as the pet name falls from your lips. “Show me what you’ve been thinking about.”

Joel steps back and yanks at his belt. The buckle clanks against itself as he opens it, popping the button on his jeans and shoving them and his boxers down in one rough motion. You pussy clenches around nothing wantonly at the sight of his cock - he’s big and thick, his cock framed by his soft tummy and greying pubic hair. His tip is leaking a ridiculous amount of precum.

“Oh, I’ll show ya, sweetheart.” He rests one hand on your hip, the other spreading his pre over his length as he draws closer. “Damn near came just from eatin’ ya. Can’t believe yer lettin’ this dirty old man ruin this pretty pussy.”

You moan when he rubs the head of his cock up and down your slit, slow and teasing. He taps his heavy cock on your clit once, twice, a third time just to watch the way your hips jerk.

“Shit.” His eyes are glued to the way your cunt flutters as he slides his cock over it, around it, dipping just the tip in before pulling it back out and repeating the entire process. “Lookit her blowin’ me kisses, honey. She wants her daddy somethin’ awful, don’t she?”

The way he’s talking is just making you even wetter, if that’s even possible. You just want him to put it in already but right now he seems keen on making your pussy a slick mess.

“Daddy.” You huff, pouting up at him. You feel like you’re gonna cry if he doesn’t stuff you full with his cock. You can feel your heartbeat in your clit. “Stop teasing me.”

“M’sorry, sweetpea.” Joel doesn’t sound sorry at all. “Just wanna take m’time with ya. Wanna savor this.”

He lets out a shuddering breath as he lines up his head with your entrance.

“Alright babygirl.” Joel cuts his eyes up to yours. “Take a nice, deep breath f’me.”

You take a slow, deep breath just like he asks. As soon as you start on the exhale, Joel pushes in.

Your nails dig into his biceps.

“That’s it, biiiiig stretch.” You choke on something between a sob and a moan when he bottoms out. An ache settles deep in your guts, your pussy stretching around him. You don’t even realize you’re starting to hyperventilate a little until Joel starts thumbing your clit.

“Hey, sh-sh-shhhhh. Slow breaths, sweet thing.” It’s hard, but you try to focus on his voice and relax. “There’s my girl. I know honey, daddy’s big, ain’t he? You’ll be okay. Yer a big girl, remember?”

You don’t get a chance to answer him, since he pushes his thumb in your mouth a second later. You drag your tongue over the pad and suck; Joel’s cock throbs inside of you.

“Fuck, what a good girl.” He pulls his hips back slowly, head dropping to watch the way he glides out of you. He takes his time pushing back inside just to watch you squirm. “Takin’ yer old man’s cock like you were made for it, honey.”

You can’t do much but drool and moan around his thumb when his thrusts start to pick up force and speed. The head of his cock nails your cervix with each movement, and you don’t think you’ve ever felt so goddamn full. It doesn’t help that Joel won’t stop running his filthy mouth.

“A boy yer age could never take care of ya like I can.” Joel pants, fucking into you harder like that might chase the thought away. “Lemme take care of ya, babydoll. You’ll keep this old man around, won’tcha? Let ‘im be yer daddy?”

“Yes, daddy, please.” You pop off his thumb with a gasp, blinking up at him with big, watery eyes as he fucks you towards another orgasm. “Pleasepleaseplease - I’ll be a good girl-“

“Oh I know you will, darlin’. Yer daddy’s perfect girl already.”

Joel thinks he died and went to heaven. Never in a million years did he think he’d be here, fucking you stupid on your kitchen counter. If he had a heart attack right now and died with his cock buried inside your perfect little cunt he’d die a happy man.

He’d rather not though. He wants to do this again.

Joel’s over the moon to know that his imagination was correct; you do get that whine in your voice when you’re close. He can hear it right now as you beg and babble nonsense at him. If only he knew you were as filthy as he is from the jump. He would’ve done this a lot sooner.

“Fuck, baby, listen.” The wet sound of his cock plunging in and out of you would make a pornstar flush. “This sweet little pussy’s givin’ her daddy kisses.”

He feels you clench around him and grins. Joel’s glad you like hearing him talk as much as he likes saying filthy things to you. He brings his hand down and starts rubbing tight little circles on your clit, the spit you left on his thumb adding to the mess.

“C’mon, kiddo.” He coos, his voice a little strained as he fights off his own release. What kind of gentleman would he be if he blew his load without making you cum again first? “I know yer close, babygirl. Give it t’me, c’mon. Make a mess on this cock. Give daddy something to clean up with those cute little panties.”

That does you in. Joel thinks you’re the most gorgeous girl in the world when you cum, your face scrunching up and those little ‘oh, oh, oh’s catching in your throat. As soon as you cum, Joel’s right behind you.

“Christ.” He hisses through his teeth, hips jerking in helpless little thrusts as he pumps you full of his cum. “Might just have ta make ya a cute little mama, make sure ya really stay with me.”

The little noise you make when he says that has Joel’s over sensitive cock throbbing inside of you. He can already feel his cum dripping out of you and making a mess on your counter. Oh well.

“Oh my god.” You’re panting, eyes dazed as you come down from your orgasm. Joel’s lips tilt up in a little smirk.

“I told ya already kiddo, it’s Joel.”

“Shut the fuck up.”

Joel chuckles when you smack his shoulder. The effectiveness of your glare is severely diminished by the fact that your pussy is still fluttering and leaking around him. God, you’re too cute.

“That’s no way to talk to yer daddy, sweetheart.”

“My daddy can go fuck himself.” You suck in a breath through your teeth when he pulls out. Joel takes a second to admire the wreck he made of your cunt before pulling your panties out of his pocket.

“Joel!” There’s that bratty little huff he loves so much. You watch in disbelief as he starts mopping up your combined fluids with your panties. “What the fuck?”

“Just need a little somethin’ to keep me company later.” He’s shameless with it just to watch the way your cheeks flush. “When I’m thinkin’ aboutcha.”

“You’re disgusting.” You can try all you like, but you can’t hide the little smile on your face when Joel helps you down off the counter. He stuffs the soaked panties back in his flannel with a wink as you straighten out your sweater and skirt.

“Yeah, I am.” He smacks your ass when you wobble past him, grinning when you squeak. He bends over to grab your heels and tights with a groan. “But’cha love it, right babygirl?”

“Whatever.” He can hear the eyeroll in your tone as he follows you to the bathroom. “Do you want dinner or not?”

After dinner, Joel decides, as he starts running you a bath, he’s gonna put you through the mattress.