┆ ✧﹒ 𝒔𝒉𝒚

You’ve been taking on guitar lessons for about the last month, and do you ever have a crush on the guy! His name is Frank, a lonely middle aged man who loves music, doing guitar lessons, working half at a music shop and half at a tattoo parlor. The lessons are cheap and relatively close to where you pursue your bachelors, and something that takes your mind off stress. The reason you’ve come to conclusion for your feelings for him is the way your tummy sparks when he helps, the way he pats his thigh to help you keep rhythm, the way he’s so passionate about this, the way he calls you honey, his hot bulky body, his tatted fingers dancing on the fret board, basically everything about him and everything he does. Except you’d never come forward about it. He’s two years over twice your age. But little do you know, Frank himself wishes he could take you and mold you into his sweet girl.

Today, you were a little off your game. You must’ve been starting your period soon, because everything Frank did made you fucking horny. When his fingers adjusted your hand on the neck of the guitar: butterflies. The way he laughed, shaking his head at you and saying something teasing about how silly you are: blushing . And now, where you were sat in front of him, his legs on the outside of yours with your back to his chest, arms wrapped around you tightly: gushing. “This okay? It’ll help you play?” Frank questioned, one hand not touching you and the other on your hand with the guitar pick. You nodded, sighing softly, “‘M just tired, I’m sorry I keep fucking up.” The fact you kept fucking up worried you you’d frustrate him. “(Y/N), honey, don’t beat yourself up. Clearly, there’s something bothering you, but that’s okay. Do you wanna talk, or wanna play?” Helping you strum, while using the fret himself, you relax a little into the touch of him on your back.

Frank knows that he’s a little too close with you, but you’re a sweet girl and he seems to be your favorite person around here. If there was something wrong and you wanted to tell him, he was there to listen. “Well,” you began, incredibly quiet while Frank played the guitar around you, using one of your hands to strum and his other on the fret board making the music come to life. “I guess being very independent, studying away from home, can get a bit tiring. It’s not like I’m not having fun; I’m having plenty of fun. I’ve made good friends, went to parties, caught up in school. But my parents don’t answer the fastest from my messages and calls, so that’s messing me up a bit.” It all makes sense to Frank. You’re craving that parental love, that validation, those check ups to make sure everything is okay and how your time far, far away from home is going. “You’re having fun, just missing love. Hm?” He concludes, spot on as you nod in confirmation.

He sighs. “Well why don’t we keep it simple today? Let’s try a song you already know.” You’re given the song title, one you’ve played countless times, but when you try to play regular tempo and everything, you keep fucking up, resulting in frustration. On your third try, your fuck-ups really start to piss you off. “I don’t think I can even do this today.” “Hey, don’t get like that,” Frank barely even lets you finish before correcting you, “Take it slow, as if you were learning again. You’re still doing good.” Attempting at doing it slow,, the first chord sounds scratchy. When you take a deep, tense breath, about to complain, Frank doesn’t even let you. “Alright, honey, let’s just take a deep breath and get situated. Before you blow your lid.” Looking away with your frustrated pout, Frank moves himself to sit beside you instead, but pats his thigh. Your eyes dart between him and his thigh, but he just gives you that “I’m waiting” look. You take the guitar and sit on his lap.

“It won’t be so hard if you just relax, (Y/N),” you certainly wish he wasn’t talking about the guitar playing skills, “go really slow again. With me.” First, Frank counts, and you start on three. Each string you go to pick, he says the fret number first, letting you match along with him. Almost done the song, you fuck up again, stopping to look at Frank with another frustrated sigh. “Frank-” “Come on, hun! You did so good. Quit putting yourself down like that, and you’ll get somewhere. It was one mess up when you were almost done the song. You’re doing great. Again, with me.” Repeating the process again, slow and steady with his deep voice guiding you through it, but you get a little distracted watching his fingers tap along his thigh, causing you to fuck up again. There’s no frustration this time, because come on, that was your fault reasonably…. And Frank just smiles, corny and placing a small tap to your nose with the same thick, calloused fingers you were staring at. “That’s alright. We still got all the time in the world. I don’t got anyone after you today.”

Another shot, and you successfully get through it without messing up, a small, prideful smile coming to your face along with a blush from Frank’s gentle praise. “That was your very best, honey. See how you just gotta relax sometimes and you can do hard things? Wanna try another song?” Analyzing your exhausted face, your mouth hesitantly opens at first, and Frank knew you were going to say yes just because there was no other option, but you looked so tired. “Actually,” Frank added, “why don’t we just relax here in the studio til you gotta go? We can talk some more.” That option, with or without the additional of your dirty thoughts, sounded best, so you nodded. The feeling of Frank’s hands around your hips made your heart stop for a second, but it was just to scoot you to the cushion beside him while he stood up.

Grabbing two bottles from the mini fridge, he tossed one to you, then took the guitar from you to place back on the guitar stand before sitting next to you. “So, you’ve been lonely. A sweet thing like you shouldn’t be lonely. What can I do?” Frank’s very straight to the point, wanting to help you in anyway he can. There’s plenty of ways you want him to help you, and those are the exact ways he wants to help you, but the idea of you saying it first simply terrified you. To seem unsure, you have a small shrug, taking a sip of water to swallow the truth. “I don’t know what I can even do.” There, still truth, but not about how much you want him. He cocked his head, sighing, “Well, I can help in many ways. I’ve been on this earth longer than you, and assuming I have more experience than you and a different perspective, I could give you advice.” Nervously fiddling with your pick, you think about how to put it. Maybe he can help you with some boy talk. “I’m making friends, but… I thought when I’d go away, there’d be boys interested in me too. Boys don’t really seem interested in me. I’ve even tried dating apps, but they end up being pervs.”

Frank can definitely help with this topic. Except how could boys not be interested? You’re absolutely adorable, intelligent, completely unique. If an old man like Frank wants you, younger boys should. But he shakes his head, remembering how much teenagers have probably changed. “If you feel no boys think you’re as amazing as you are, then either you’re wrong, or they’re blind. Have you tried… different types of men? Different cliques, different personalities, different ages, different standards?” Of course, he had to slip in the age one, unaware of how fuzzy it’d make your mind. Except it’s really hard to lie to Frank with how comfortable he makes you feel. “All of that, but… but age. I haven’t had a lot of, um, sexual experiences, but I’m not inexperienced. I feel someone older would expect more.” Frank laughs, “If you’d like my point of view, that makes you more endearing. I’d want to be associated that way with a girl like you.” Now he’s really teetering over the edge, watching your every language. How you constantly drink some water for the change to look away, how tense you are, how your body betrays your shyness while you completely face him.

Poor girl. You just really need two things: a parental figure and sex. The only way you’re going to get want you want is to say it, and you really, really want to say yes, you just can’t be the one to confirm what you’re saying yes to. That’s completely set, and Frank will do what he needs to do. With that, he stands before kneeling in front of you, a hand on each knee. And you were still avoiding eye contact before he even opened his mouth. “I’m going to need you to look at me, (Y/N).” Once your eyes are him, Frank begins. “I can help you, honey. You’re absolutely fuckin’ gorgeous and the sweetest thing I’ve ever met. You’re also not the only one lonely. It’s been a while f’me too. There’s a lot of factors of why I want you. Yeah, there’s some just plain desire, you’re beautiful and young, but there can be more behind that. ‘S that what you need, honey? Just say yes, and I’m yours.” Every word is exactly what you wanted to hear, and you nodded a little too quickly with how eager you are. “I just… yeah, I want exactly what you’re thinking, Frank. I’m sorry. I hate to sound desperate, I just want…. I want you really, really bad.”

“Oh, sweetie, don’t worry about being eager. It’s cute - no hiding your face either, come on.” You immediately went to hiding your face, but he yanked you into his lap as soon as he sat next to you. Frank didn’t let you hide your face, cupping your face and guiding it right to his while he twirled your hair between his fingers. “There, get to see your pretty face. Are you gonna keep hiding it, or gonna listen to me?” With your eyes darting between his eyes and lips, you shook your head no, resulting in a growing smile from him. “Atta girl. Now we know what you want, but no explicitly. Now that I took you in my lap, I think that’s enough for in exchange, you tell me in detail what you want me to do to you.” Obviously, you whine in disagreement, but he gives you a disapprovingly look. How can you take his disapproving look when all you crave is his praise? “I know you must’ve pictured some stuff. You didn’t think twice about saying yes.” He wasn’t letting you out of this, clearly.

Taking a deep breath, you collected your thoughts, looking at your lap but not hiding your face like he said. One hand stays in your lap, but the other played with the fabric of his shirt, around the neck where his tattoos peaked from. “Like… sex?” You stall, making Frank laugh. “You know what I mean. You’re not that stupid. You’re a smart girl.” Squirming the slightest bit, licking your lips subconsciously, you begin, “I’ve always really wanted to know what a guys tongue feels like o-on me.” Pausing, you swallow the build up in your mouth from it watering over the look of Frank. “And… letting you do what you want to me. I think you’d know what I need. I think you could help me.” “That’s right, smart girl. You know I know what you need. Do you want that?” Collapsing into him, you just buried your face in his neck, unable to show your blushing face anymore, especially with how much you need this. “Oh, Frank, please! I’m so sorry, but I just need it so bad. I need to know what it feels like. Please just give me it.” There’s no way you could beg like this get away with something gentle, considering Frank turned hard almost immediately. When your thighs curled up to your chest, squirming around on his lap like it was nothing with your face to his chest.

Forcing you to stand up, he pulled you around by your hips like you were his doll, before bending you over the arm of the sofa. Your pants and underwear were ripped from you, causing you to squirm shyly at the fact Frank groaned at the view of your cunt. He kneeled, tongue diving eagerly between your folds, listening to your surprised gasps as he held right to his face. “Oh my god, honey, you taste so sweet.” Frank mumbles, out of breath while sloppy travelling between your clit and tasty hole. “How’s that feel? D’you like my tongue?” “Yes, yes, daddy! I really like it!” You can’t help but moan while pushing back on it while he growled into you. The fact you want to call him daddy, he can totally fuck with. Except he wanted to thoroughly eat you out, but the name made his cock ache. So, he spread you open one last time to spit on your pussy, before he dropped his own pants and lined up with your tight pussy. Ever so slowly, he pushed just the tip in, letting you quiver around him with little whines. “Fuck, fuck, my sweet girl’s so tight. I bet I could get you to cum on just the tip of I tried enough. My sweet, sensitive girl.” As he pushed pass another ring of resistance, you sharply cried out, gripping the couch with how he was halfway inside of you. More praise came from Frank, whose hips were near trembling to slam into your pretty little cunt. “You’re taking me sososo well. So lucky to have you right here, over an old man’s couch. Wish I could see more of this body, though. D’you think you could take your shirt off, honey?” Still eager to please, you quickly maneuver your shirt off, unclasping your bra immediately as well.

And the moment you did, you were full of Frank, enough to make you feel like cumming on the spot of he went near your clit. Your moans filled the room, out of breath just from being filled by him. “What, honey? Daddy’s cock too big for you?” Slowly, he pulled out, with a slow, controlled thrust back in, and another groan. “So fucking tight. You’ll be screaming like a good girl in no time.” Being slowly, lovingly fucked allowed you to adjust to his size, long moans being dragged from your throat. All your brain could think about was his praise. “Fuckin’ soaked all from just me teaching you guitar.” “Thereee ya go, nice n’ easy, in n’ out.” “Tight little cunt is filled to the brim. God, I think you’d fall apart if you took anything bigger than me.” “But you won’t be taking bigger than me, will you? You’re mine now, aren’t you, sweetie?” You couldn’t help beginning to bounce back onto him, needing more. “Yes, daddy! All yours, ‘m pussy is all yours. All yours.” Big hands suddenly held you still, continuing to pump in and out slow.

Frank even tsked in disapproval. “Didn’t say you could do that, honey. Daddy didn’t say fuck back onto him. Can’t be getting too needy. Gotta let daddy stay in control. Do you think you can do that? Just let daddy pump this pussy.” With that, he uses one hand on your back to pump firmly, not fast yet, while the other wraps around to pull you up. His tatted fingers trace along the sculpture of your chest, letting goosebumps rise before touching any sensitive skin. Your cunt fluttered around him when he pinched your nipple softly, rolling it between his fingers. “Perfect tits too. Tell me, you play with them while you rub your pretty clit? Do you rub and tease them, or pinch and pull them?” Every movement he mentions, he preforms on your tit, sticking to pulling on them because of how you whine. “I said tell daddy.” He reminds you. “‘M sorry, I’m sorry, I can’t think with you inside me, daddy. Feels g-good. I p-play with them like this thinking of you.” “Good girl. Using the little cock dumb brain to think just enough f’me.” Frank praised, before fucking you ruthlessly. Deep, fast, hard, making your noises fill the room.