#dbf x reader

He grits his teeth, the grip on his phone getting tighter. Before he knows it, his hand is drifting down to his cock, giving it a squeeze through his pants, which are feeling more and more constricted as time goes by. He's rock hard already.

The sight of you.... Fuck, it has his balls tightening and feeling heavy.

Stop it, he tells himself harshly as his hand freezes on his crotch. You can't be doing this. She's your friend's daughter, for fuck sake. Simon takes a deep, shuddering breath, trying to calm himself down. But at this point, there is no use. He's already dug his very own grave the second he decided to keep looking at the picture instead of ignoring it or telling you off for being careless about something so intimate.

Was it really an accident, though? Simon wanted to believe that somewhere deep down, you purposely sent the picture to make him lose it. He knew he wasn't imagining it whenever he'd catch you staring at him a bit longer during dinners with your dad.

The way you bit that pretty lip and glanced away the second he caught you. Just feigning innocence and going back to the conversation with your old man.

And soon enough, his hand continues stroking himself through his pants. But it's not enough as he pulls himself out to get a firmer feel and grip. The thick head of his cock is already leaking with precum, and he smears it down his shaft. Simon groans as he keeps his pace slow, eyes locked onto the photo like a lifeline.

God, you really just are the prettiest thing he's ever seen. Those wide eyes glancing into the mirror. He'd do just about anything to watch them roll back because of him. He thinks about branding you as his, fill you up, and watch it dribble out of every single hole of yours.

The thought alone could make him cum then and there.

He knew your dad would absolutely gut him if he could read his mind right about now. But he’d treat you so sweet, Simon knows he would. He would take you anywhere you wanted, buy you whatever you desired. He’d do just about anything to see you happy.

His hand starts moving faster, stroking his cock at a more desperate urgency. Simon's breath hitches as he feels the climax closing in. If he was in his right mind, he would’ve thought he was pathetic. Pathetic for letting you be the reason why he was losing it.

‘’Shit…’’ His orgasm comes crashing over him, his body shuddering at the feeling as the warmth of his cum coats his hand and dribble down onto his pants. ‘’Fuck… that feels ngh—good.’’ He whimpered as he drew out the orgasm as long as he could, pumping his hand up and down until he’s spent.

Simon sits there for a while, breathing hard as his cock starts going soft in his hand. He looks at his other hand, which is still holding the phone, glancing once more at the photo of you before shutting it off with a heavy sigh and closing his eyes.

He knew what he had done was wrong, but god if it didn't feel so darn good. Simon would still find time to scold you for being careless while keeping the photo in his gallery.

a/n: haven't written anything in two whole years, so I'm a bit rusty. hopefully you guys enjoyed it!!

when the familiar truck pulled up, joel was smiling through the window. that warm, patient smile you’d known for years.

you climbed into the passenger seat, suddenly hyper-aware of how gross you smelled. joel, on the other hand, smelled like cinnamon and beautiful dreams.

“thanks, joel. sorry you had to come out for this.”

he gave a low chuckle “ain’t a problem, bud. i don’t mind.”

the ride was comfortable, windows cracked, radio playing low. after a couple minutes joel glanced over you, eyes flicking down to your dirty legs.

“watched your game the other day with your dad,” he said. “you looked real good out there. fast on the wing, solid passes. that goal in the second half? clean as hell. you’re gettin’ better every week.”

“you really think so?”

“i know so,” joel replied, smiling gently. “i played a lot of soccer back in the day, too. wasn’t half bad either. used to play striker mostly. had some speed on me before these knees started complainin’.” he let out a soft laugh. “you remind me of myself a little. quiet on the field but always thinkin’. that’s the best kind of player.”

“i still get nervous sometimes…” you bit your lip.

joel nodded understandingly. “that’s normal, bud. nerves mean you care. just keep doin’ what you’re doin’. you’ve got real talent.” he paused for a second, then added with a playful smirk, “your dad ever tell you i almost went pro? tore my acl senior year of college. but it worked out alright. i still have some championship trophies i can show you. might motivate that hardworking ass of yours.”

you smiled shyly, glancing at him. “yeah… i’d like that.”

“sure” joel said, warm affection in his voice. “but first, let’s get you a good shower, dirty little soccer boy.”

you both laughed, joel turned toward his house instead of yours.

when he pulled into the driveway he killed the engine and looked at you.

“wait here.”

he came around, opened your door, and before you could protest he scooped you up like you weighed nothing — one thick arm under your knees, the other around your back. you instinctively wrapped your arms around his neck.

“joel— you don’t have to—”

“shh. i ain’t lettin’ you track mud and grass all over my carpet,” he murmured against your hair, carrying you inside like it was the most natural thing in the world. his body felt so warm and solid against your sweaty one.

“c’mon. you’re filthy. let’s get you cleaned up.”

you didn’t argue.

he took you straight upstairs to his bathroom, still holding you until he set you down on the tile. then he started the shower, letting the water heat up while he slowly peeled your jersey off your body. his big hands lingered on your damp skin.

“arms up, buddy.”

you obeyed. he stripped you down piece by piece. he helped you to get off your grass-stained shorts and socks next, leaving you in just your white underwear in front of him. your cock twitched under his gaze and you had to fight the urge to cover yourself.

joel’s eyes dragged over every inch of your sweaty, grass-stained body. you were still breathing a little hard from practice.

then he started undressing too.

he shrugged off his shirt, revealing a broad, solid chest dusted with dark hair that trailed down over a strong stomach. his arms were thick from years of real work, shoulders wide and powerful. boots came off next, then his jeans, sliding down his strong thighs...

by the time he stood there in just his boxers, the thick, heavy outline of his cock was impossible to ignore.

joel was mature and undeniably masculine.

“you can get in” he said

you stepped into the shower, groaning as the hot water hit your sore muscles. a second later joel crowded in behind you, completely naked now, his chest pressing against your back. he crowded behind you, soaping his hands up before running them over your shoulders and down your chest.

“gotta get you clean”

he soaped you up slow and thorough. rough palms slid over your chest, thumbs circling your nipples until they hardened without him noticing. then down your stomach, then between your legs.

“feels good?” he asked quietly, lips close to your ear.

you nodded, too shy to speak properly. “y-yeah…”

he smiled against your skin and kept going, washing every inch of you with patient hands. when he reached between your legs, he was gentle — carefully cleaning your cock and balls, stroking you with just enough pressure to make your breath hitch. then he turned you around, so your back was to the water and gently spread your cheeks, washing your hole with the same tender attention.

you whimpered, forehead resting against the cool tile, embarrassed by how good it felt. you could feel that his hands were firm.

eventually he turned off the water. joel stepped out first and grabbed a big, fluffy towel. he wrapped it around you with so much care, pulling you close as he dried your shoulders, your chest, your back. his movements were slow and gentle, almost reverent.

he knelt down in front of you, carefully drying your thighs and wiping away every drop of water. when he reached your knees, his eyes lifted and landed on your aching, fully hard cock standing right in front of his face. a soft smile tugged at his lips as he continued drying your shins and feet with the same patience.

“so much better,” he murmured, voice low and husky as he rose back to his full height. he pulled you against him, letting the towel fall open so your bare, clean body pressed against his still-damp skin. “all cleaned up…”

the moment he stood, you felt his thick and heavy cock, now fully hard, resting warm and heavy against the curve of your ass. the weight of it made you shiver. joel wrapped his arms around you from behind, pulling your back flush against his chest. his cock nestled perfectly between your cheeks as he held you close.

the scent of fresh soap mixed with his natural warm smell filled your lungs.

he breathed you in slowly, nose brushing along your wet hair.

“god, boy” joel whispered, voice low and rough with want. “you smell so good now.”

every time he breathed, it twitched against you, making your hole clench with nervous excitement.

you whimpered softly, embarrassed by how desperately your body was reacting. joel noticed immediately and pressed a gentle kiss to the side of your neck.

“shh, it’s okay, bud” he murmured soothingly. “you don’t have to hide how you feel. i’m right here with you…”

he rolled his hips slowly, dragging his thick length up and down between your cheeks in a lazy, teasing grind. the heavy weight of his cock felt comforting. joel turned you around in his arms so you were facing him.

his eyes were dark but incredibly soft as he looked down at your flushed face. one of his hands reached down to wrap gently around both of your cocks, pressing them together.

“you see how good it is, huh?”

you both stood there, bare and warm from the shower, hearts beating against each other. joel’s hand kept your cocks pressed snug together, the steady heat and weight of him making your breath shaky.

then he leaned in.

his kiss was slow, almost careful. his lips were warm and surprisingly soft for such a rugged man, brushing yours once, twice, before settling in with quiet tenderness. there was no rush. he tasted faintly of mint and when he tilted his head just a little more, the kiss deepened by degrees— but still gentle, still patient. his tongue traced the seam of your lips until you opened for him, then slid inside to stroke against yours in long, lazy glides that made your knees feel weak. it wasn’t hungry or demanding.

it was warm. and so delicate, so gentle, so patient.

when he finally pulled back just enough to speak, his forehead rested against yours, breath mingling. “your lips are so soft” joel says with his thumb swept across your bottom lip, eyes half-lidded and dark.

he kissed you again, just as tenderly, swallowing the tiny sound you made. this time one of his big hands slid down your back, cupping your ass and pulling you tighter against him so your cocks rubbed together between your stomachs.

after a long moment, joel turned you gently in his arms until your back was pressed to his chest. his thick cock nestled hot and heavy along your spine. he pressed a slow kiss to the side of your neck then slowly dropped to his knees behind you.

you felt his warm breath before his tongue gently licked over your hole. the sensation made your knees weak. joel gripped your hips firmly as he licked you with unhurried devotion — long, languid strokes that explored every delicate inch. every so often he gently dipped inside, tasting you deeply, like he couldn’t get enough.

“fuck… joel—” you moaned, embarrassed by how needy you sounded as he licked you slow and sweet — long, patient strokes of his tongue, occasionally pressing inside just a little, savoring you.

he hummed softly, the vibration sending sparks up your spine.

after a few more slow, worshipful licks, joel stood up again. he pressed his broad chest against your back and wrapped one arm around you. you felt his thick, hard cock resting heavy against your ass as he kissed the side of your neck.

“you want this, baby?” he asked, voice rough with want but still so gentle. “we don’t have to do anything you’re not ready for.”

“i do.i-i-want you. just… be gentle with me?” your voice dropped, you were feeling vulnerable at that moment. “i trust you.”

he smiled tenderly and reached for the small bottle of lube he kept in the bathroom drawer. the room was still warm and steamy from the shower, the mirror lightly fogged. the only sound besides your shaky breathing and joel’s low and soft voice.

then he lined up, pressing the blunt, slippery head of his cock against your hole, slowly starting to pushing in.

“breathe for me, bud” he whispered “that’s it… good boy. just relax and let me in.” the stretch burned, but joel never rushed, murmuring soft against your neck the entire time as he gradually sank deeper.

your breath hitched sharply, a mix of discomfort and deep, aching pleasure flooding through you. it wasn’t easy. your body instinctively tensed around the sheer size of him.

“i know, big guy. i know… easy now,” he soothed, voice low and warm. “you can take it. you’re doin’ so good already.”

joel paused and pressed gentle kisses along your shoulder, holding perfectly still while you adjusted.

“there you go” Joel whimpered as he sank another inch, the fullness overwhelming.

the burn gradually started melting into a heavy, throbbing pleasure deep inside you.

“my sweet boy… so tight and warm around me. gonna stay right here for a minute and let you get used to it, okay?” he whispered, lips brushing your skin. one of his big hands rubbed slow, comforting circles over your stomach while the other stroked your cock with gentle, encouraging touches.

“you feel incredible… so perfect wrapped around me.”

you could only nod as your breath was shaky. the feeling of him was overwhelming in the best way. joel’s broad, hairy chest was pressed flush against your back, his warm, damp skin radiating heat that sank straight into you. every slow breath he took made his chest expand against you, grounding and steady.

you felt so full it was dizzying — he was touching parts of you no one else ever had.

“joel…” you whimpered softly.

“shh, i know, bud” he murmured, pressing a slow kiss to the side of your neck. “just feel me. feel how deep i am.”

your own cock was leaking steadily in his fist, the pleasure building low in your belly.

“feelin’ better now, huh?” he gave the smallest, gentlest roll of his hips, barely moving, just enough to nudge that spot deep inside you.

a broken moan slipped from your lips as sharp pleasure shot up your spine.

“good boy,” he groaned quietly, lips against your ear. “so good for me.”

joel’s control began slipping. his hands gripped your hips a little tighter, fingers digging into your soft skin as his thrusts grew deeper, hungrier.

“baby boy… ” he rasped against your neck, kissing and sucking lightly at your skin. “so soft….”

his pace quickened, still careful but losing restraint. he fucked you with long, powerful strokes, groaning every time he bottomed out. one arm wrapped around your chest, pulling your back flush against him so there wasn’t a single inch of space between your bodies. his other hand stroked you faster, perfectly in time with his thrusts.

“your hole… fuck, it’s too good,” he groaned against your neck, voice wrecked. “so tight and warm… i can’t hold it anymore, baby.” he said pressing tender kisses to your shoulder. “f-fu-ck…”

with one last deep thrust, he buried himself into you. a raw, broken moan tore from his chest as thick, endless ropes of warm cum flooded into you. he kept pulsing, spilling load after load deep inside your body, filling you so full you could feel your insides getting wet with his seed.

he was panting against your neck, chest heaving, almost dizzy from how intense it felt. nothing had ever felt this good. not even close.

“fuckkkkk… baby boy… ” his arms stayed wrapped tightly around you the whole time, “look what you did to me.”

he stayed buried deep inside you, gripping your ass with both big hands to hold you firmly in place. his thick cock continued twitching as he savored the warm, slick mess he had made. he could feel his own cum leaking around his shaft, making everything slippery.

“god, i love this” he said as he stayed buried deep for a long, indulgent moment, lazily grinding into your cum-filled hole like he couldn’t bear to leave it.

with painstaking care, joel eased his still-thick cock out of you. the drag was slow and deliberate, and the moment his swollen head popped free, a thick rush of his warm cum leaked out of your used hole. you whimpered at the sudden emptiness, feeling his load drip steadily down your thighs in heavy, messy streams.

“fuck… look at that, baby” joel breathed, voice rough with satisfaction.

the way your hole fluttered and clenched around nothing, the deep satisfaction of being so full of him… it made your own cock throb painfully, rock-hard against your stomach.

joel noticed immediately how desperate you were.

“jesus, baby boy,” he murmured, voice rough and warm.

he turned you around with big, gentle hands, then dropped to his knees on the damp bathroom floor without a second of hesitation.

the sight of joel — a broad, manly, salt-and-pepper father figure that was supposed to give you a ride home — now kneeling in front of you with hungry, reverent eyes made something deep in your chest twist with heat.

his eyes were full of hunger as he looked up at you. he took your aching, leaking cock into his warm mouth in one smooth motion, moaning around you like he’d been dying to taste you.

his hands gripped your hips gently as he sucked you with slow, devoted strokes — tongue swirling around the head, then sliding down your shaft. he took you deep, eyes fluttering shut, clearly loving every second of it.

“fuck, you taste so good” he groaned, pulling off just long enough to catch his breath before diving back down. “give it to me, buddy”

the pressure built fast. his hot, relentless mouth made it impossible to hold back.

with a broken moan, you came hard down his throat.

joel didn’t pull away. he moaned loudly in satisfaction as thick pulses of your cum filled his mouth, swallowing every drop with hungry, rhythmic pulls, his throat working around the head of your cock.

he kept sucking you through it, gentle now, milking every last tremor until you were spent and trembling.

only then did joel pull off with a wet pop. he rose to his feet, towering over you again, and before you could catch your breath he cupped the back of your neck with one big hand and pushed you back against the cool tile wall.

his mouth crashed into yours in a deep, messy kiss. you could taste yourself on his tongue — salty and warm — as he licked into your mouth with filthy, possessive strokes. the kiss was slow and claiming, full of affection and raw need all at once.

joel groaned softly into it, pressing his still-half-hard, cum-slick cock against your thigh like he couldn’t bear any distance between you. he cradled the back of your head with hand, thumb stroking your hair as his tongue gently swept against yours.

his forehead rested against yours. his voice was low and rough, but incredibly tender.

“c’mere, tiger” he murmured. “let’s get you comfortable.” he reached for a soft towel and gently wiped you down with careful strokes, then cleaned himself just enough before taking your hand.

the once-neat bathroom was a complete mess — clothes scattered across the floor, damp towels bunched up, and your soccer uniform lying rumpled near the sink where joel had stripped it off you earlier. the air smelled like sex and soap.

he guided you down his bedroom. the room felt very him — simple, masculine, with dark wood furniture and a big, comfortable-looking bed.

joel opened a drawer and pulled out a pair of clean white briefs. he held them out to you with a soft smile.

“here, big guy. these should fit you. i want you to be comfortable in my house.”

you slipped them on while he watched with quiet appreciation. his eyes lingered on your body, tracing the lines of your toned chest, the definition in your abs, and the strong muscles in your thighs and legs — clear evidence of all the years you’d spent playing soccer. he didn’t hide how much he liked what he saw.

“come here,” he said gently “been meaning to show you these for a while.”

he led you out of the bedroom and into the room across the hall — his old study. the walls were covered with framed photos from his playing days: younger versions of joel in soccer fields, celebrating with teammates, and a few action shots that showed just how powerful he used to be on the field. you noticed a couple of old trophies on a shelf.

“state champions, junior year.” you read.

“yeah, i was a cocky little shit back then.” he said with a warm, nostalgic smile. “you know how it goes,” he continued, voice low and easy. “that feeling when everything clicks on the field. the way your body just… knows what to do.” joel looked at you for a moment, his expression softening. “i see it in you every time you’re out there. the way you move, the discipline… it’s damn impressive..”

he leaned in and pressed a slow kiss to your shoulder, then another just below your ear.

“i’m proud of you,” he murmured against your skin. “always have been.”

his hand slid up your back in a gentle caress, holding you close in the quiet warmth of the study. the contrast felt intimate — you standing there in nothing but his white briefs, surrounded by pieces of his past, while he touched you like you were something precious.

“tell me about your season,” he said softly, genuinely interested. “how’s the team looking this year?”

you told him about the current season — the tough matches, the chemistry finally clicking with your teammates, and how you’ve been playing more as a winger lately, using your speed and footwork to create chances. joel listened attentively, nodding along, his thumb still tracing slow circles on your lower back.

“i used to drive my coaches crazy,” he continued, voice warm with nostalgia. “i’d rather nutmeg a defender than make the safe pass. spent hours after practice just messing with the ball… no cones, no drills. only creativity, only joy.”

the more he talked, the more excited you looked, eyes sparkling, lips slightly parted, giving him those enthusiastic puppy eyes that made his chest feel tight.

joel’s smile widened, clearly enjoying your reaction. he brushed his thumb along your jaw.

“keep playing like that, you’ve got that same fire. i can see it when you play — that little burst of speed right before you cut inside, the way you use your body to shield the ball. it reminds me so much of how i used to be… except you’re faster than i ever was.” he said, a fond smile tugging at his lip.

he leaned in and pressed a slow kiss to your temple before whispering against your skin. “when the season’s over, i’ll take you to the old pitch i used to train on. i’ll show you some of those dirty brazilian tricks your coaches would hate.”

“and you know what? i’ve got something i can show you” he gently squeezed your hip. “wait here.”

he disappeared for a minute and returned with an old vhs tape in his hand.

“come on, bud”

joel led you to the living room. the lights were dim, and the big tv cast a soft blue glow as he put the tape in. he lowered himself onto the thick carpeted floor, leaning back against the couch.

you lay on your chest, stomach flat against the soft rug, chin resting on your folded arms as you faced the tv. the position naturally lifted your ass slightly, the white briefs hugging your curves. joel had a perfect view.

the old footage started playing — a much younger joel flying down the wing, pulling off flashy moves, nutmegs, and quick bursts of speed that made the small crowd cheer.

your eyes were glued to the screen, wide and sparkling with pure excitement, lips slightly parted as you watched every move he made. you looked completely captivated.

joel tried to focus on the screen at first. he pointed out a few plays, laughing softly at his younger self’s cocky celebrations. but his attention didn’t last long.

his eyes kept drifting down to you — lying so sweetly on your chest, ass gently raised toward him, wearing nothing but his briefs. the sight was too tempting.

one of his hands slid slowly down your back and settled on your ass. he started massaging you with deep, appreciative squeezes, kneading the firm muscle through the thin fabric.

“you’re really into this, huh?” joel murmured, voice low and warm with amusement. “getting all excited watching this old man’s glory days…”

your eyes were glued to the screen, wide and sparkling with pure excitement. as you watched him dribble past defenders with quick feints and creative touches, your mind began racing. you could already imagine yourself doing the same things — that sudden change of direction, the way he used his hips to sell the fake, the burst of acceleration afterward. you studied every movement intently, trying to burn the technique into your memory, lips slightly parted in concentration.

he kept massaging you steadily, strong hands working your ass with deep, loving strokes, occasionally letting his fingers slip under the leg bands to touch bare skin. the warmth of his palms, the gentle possessiveness… it made it nearly impossible to ignore how turned on you were getting, even as you continued watching his younger self pull off move after move on the screen.

you could feel yourself getting harder inside the white briefs, your cock thickening and pressing uncomfortably against the soft fabric. every squeeze of his hands made you twitch, causing your growing erection to rub against the carpet and the front of the briefs. a quiet, shaky breath escaped you.

joel noticed immediately.

“aw, baby boy…” he said softly, voice dropping lower.

suddenly, he moved, shifting forward and carefully lowering his big, warm body over yours. his broad chest pressed against your back, caging you gently between him and the carpet. the weight felt comforting. he brushed your hair aside and started pressing slow kisses along your spine, savoring every inch of your skin. each kiss was warm and lingering, growing lower as he worked his way down your back.

when he reached the waistband of the white briefs, he tugged them down just enough to expose your ass.

you felt the heat of his breath first, then the slow, deliberate drag of his tongue across your used hole. he could taste himself, an evidence of his earlier load still deep inside you. the filthy realization made him shudder.

“tastes so fucking sweet… jesus christ.”

his cock, which had been half-hard against your thigh, swelled rapidly until it was rock-hard and throbbing, pressing insistently between your cheeks. joel let out a shaky breath, grinding once against your slick entrance.

“i need you one more time.”

he gripped your hips with one big hand, steadying you as he lined up. the slippery head of his cock pressed against your cum-wet entrance and slowly pushed inside in one long, smooth thrust. because you were still loose with his load, he sank in much easier this time but the feeling of being filled again drew a broken whimper from your throat. every inch stretched you open again, the slick sounds obscene as his thick cock pushed through the warm mess he’d already left inside you.

joel moaned deeply, the sound vibrating against your back as he bottomed out, hips flush against your ass. he buried his face in the crook of your neck, breathing hard, almost trembling with how good it felt.

“that’s it, big guy …” he whispered against your skin, voice rough with pleasure. “god, even better the second time.”

he stayed buried deep for a moment, savoring the tight, silky heat wrapped around him, then started fucking you with deep, unhurried strokes right there on the living room carpet. each thrust pressed you harder into the soft rug. one strong arm wrapped around your chest, holding your body tight against his, while his other hand gripped your ass, spreading you open so he could watch every inch of his thick cock sliding in and out of your creamy hole.

each time he sank in completely, you felt the thick warmth of his cock stretching you wide, filling you so perfectly that it made your head spin. the head dragged deliciously against that sensitive spot inside you on every stroke, sending waves of heat rolling through your body.

the heat of his body and the slick warmth of his cock made everything feel hazy and intimate, like you were melting under him.

it made it feel like he was completely surrounding you — protecting you and claiming you all at once.

with gentle but firm hands, he turned you over onto your back on the soft carpet.

he hooked your legs over his broad shoulders, folding you beneath him and took a moment to just admire you — flushed, hard, and breathing heavily.

you gasped as he sank deep, the angle now hitting even deeper, pressing right against that sensitive spot inside you

now you could see everything: his salt-and-pepper hair slightly messy, the focused warmth in his eyes, the way his jaw tightened with pleasure, and the soft, affectionate expression on his face.

he was watching you and studying every little reaction on your face like a patient couch.

one of his big hands came up to cup the side of your face, thumb brushing tenderly over your cheek while he kept thrusting.

“you’re doing so good for me,” he praised softly, eyes never leaving yours.

your whole body was trembling. the pressure inside you kept building higher and higher, joel’s cock dragging perfectly against your prostate while his fist worked you closer to the edge.

“joel—” you gasped, voice cracking.

“i know, buddy. i know,” he breathed, forehead pressed to yours. “you’re close, aren’t you?”

his strokes on your cock sped up, thumb pressing firmly under the head as he fucked you a little harder, deeper, losing the last threads of his control.

you cried out sharply as your orgasm slammed into you. your cock pulsed violently in joel’s tight fist, shooting thick, messy ropes of cum all over your abs and chest. at the exact same moment, your hole clenched hard around his thick cock.

“fuck— that’s it— that’s my boy” joel groaned, his voice cracking with raw disbelief. the scene of you feeling that much pleasure was too much for him to handle.

he buried himself into you and came again with a deep, shaky moan.

you felt every single powerful throb as he pumped you full again — thick, hot surges of cum flooding deep into your already sloppy hole. he just kept cumming, long heavy spurts that made your insides feel even warmer and wetter, the sheer volume of it pushing some of his previous load out around his shaft with every pulse.

joel sounded almost overwhelmed, like he couldn’t believe his own body. this kind, steady older man who used to pat your back after games was now shaking on top of you, panting like he’d never felt pleasure this intense in his life.

your strong jock legs trembled around him as he kept stroking your cock through every aftershock, milking you completely dry while his own cock continued twitching and leaking inside your cum-drenched ass. the wet, filthy sounds of his load squelching with every small movement made your face burn and sweat with pleasure. your hair was glued up to your forehead.

when the waves finally slowed, joel carefully lowered your legs and collapsed on top of you, both of you breathless and trembling on the soft carpet. his heavy, warm body pressed you down into the rug, his cock still buried inside your cum-filled hole, twitching with aftershocks. he gives you sweet kisses on your lips and mouth and face and everything.

“jesus christ, baby” he whispered, voice hoarse and full of affection. “you're so good.”

his cock stayed buried deep inside your overflowing hole, still twitching with aftershocks, plugging all that warm cum inside you. you could feel every tiny movement as he lay there panting against your sweaty neck.

both of you panted quietly on the living room carpet, wrapped in each other’s arms. joel’s heavy body still covered yours, protective and grounding

he kissed you slowly — soft, lingering presses to your lips, then your flushed cheeks, your forehead, the corner of your mouth. each kiss was tender, like he was trying to memorize the taste of you.

“shit” he lifted his head and glanced toward the clock on the wall “it’s later than i thought. i was supposed to have you home almost an hour ago…”

he let out a low, guilty breath, but his cock gave one last involuntary twitch inside you, clearly still reluctant to leave. slowly, carefully, joel eased his thick length out of your used hole. the moment his cock slipped free, a thick rush of warm cum poured out of you, dripping messily down your crack and onto your thighs.

joel stared down at the creamy mess between your legs, almost mesmerized.

“gonna send you home full of my cum,” he said, voice low and rough, a hint of guilty excitement in his eyes. “you’d like that, right, champ?”

you nodded, too blissed out to speak properly.

joel smiled, soft but wicked, and pressed one last kiss to your lips before sitting up.

“c’mon, let’s get you cleaned up” he helped you sit up, then noticed your grass-stained soccer clothes were still in the bathroom. “and don’t worry about your uniform. you “forgot” it here,” he said with a knowing little smirk. “i’ll wash everything, get it nice and clean for you. can bring it over tomorrow.”

he ran a gentle hand through your sweaty hair, pushing it off your damp forehead with tendernes as he helped you up from the carpet on shaky legs. he kept one arm around your waist as he led you upstairs to his bedroom.

he rummaged through his drawer and pulled out a pair of his own gray sweatpants and an old, soft flannel shirt. he helped you step into the sweatpants, then buttoned the flannel over your bare chest with gentle fingers. the clothes were big on you, loose and warm, carrying joel’s natural scent.

he stepped back and looked at you, a slow, affectionate smile spreading across his face.

“damn… you look real good in my clothes, bud,” he murmured.

joel got dressed himself and pulled you in for one last deep, slow kiss before grabbing his keys.

the drive home was quiet but charged. joel kept one hand on the wheel and the other resting on your thigh, gently rubbing circles with his thumb. every so often he’d glance over at you, eyes dark with satisfaction.

when he pulled up in front of your house, he leaned over and kissed your forehead.

“text me when you’re in bed, alright? and be careful tomorrow… you’re probably gonna be sore. and i am not talking about practice.”

later that night…

you lay in your bed, staring at the ceiling in the dark.

your bedroom was the typical jock’s haven — dimly lit by the warm glow of your bedside lamp. soccer trophies and medals lined the shelves above your desk, catching the low light. a couple of posters of messi were taped to the walls, and your soccer bag was still half-open on the floor, dirty cleats and socks spilling out from practice. your jersey from earlier today was crumpled on your chair.

you lay on your back in bed, still wearing joel’s oversized flannel shirt. the soft, well-worn fabric smelled like him — woodsy, warm, and masculine. it made your stomach flutter every time you breathed in.

no matter how hard you tried to fall asleep, your mind wouldn’t shut off.

you kept replaying everything.

every time you shifted under the sheets, you felt it — the warm, sticky remnants of joel’s cum. you were so full of him. two thick loads deep inside your ass, warm and filthy. you clenched around nothing and a fresh trickle slipped out, making you quietly moan into your pillow.

you were used to your body being sore — bruised shins, tight hamstrings, aching muscles after tough games.

but this was a completely different kind of sore.

a deep, intimate ache in your ass that pulsed every time you moved. it felt good. the kind of ache that made your cock twitch under the covers even though you’d already cum twice tonight.

you kept wondering if he was lying in his own bed right now, thinking about you too when your phone lit up on the nightstand.

the screen showed a new message from joel:

At dinner, he’d eat his food disconcertingly fast, leaving the table before you got to finish. He’d leave for work even earlier than before, not giving you a chance to say good morning. He’d even stopped doing small favours for you, like washing your clothes or dropping you off at your friend's house.

Something was up; this wasn’t the Mr Miller you grew up with.

After walking home from your friends', you’d expected Miller to be out. Either at work or with Tommy, but he wasn’t. Joel was in the kitchen, making himself food. The silhouette of his broad shoulders centred your gaze. You place your overnight bag on the table and walked to the fridge. Miller glances at you, not saying a word.

What is it? You ask, pouring yourself a cold glass of orange juice and sitting at the table, hoping to get something out of him.

Pasta. He mumbles.

Nice. You say, gulping down the remains of the sweet liquid. That's it? Just pasta?

Tomato.

Miller was cold; he couldn’t even look you in the eye. Instead, his attention was outside, in the garden.

You okay? You ask, hoping that this time you wouldn't get the same blunt response.

Yeah, yeah. Going out with Tommy tonight, will be back late. You can order food. Joel turns around, finally facing somewhat in your direction.

Oh, okay.

Your eyes go shallow at the fact that he’s not making dinner for both of you, like he used to. Instead, he’s being like your dad used to be. No care, no love and definitely not emotion. Joel was completely stoic.

He left around eight, calling out as he shut the door. You were in your room, not bothering to reply. He’d shut it too quickly for him to hear anyway.

As the sun began to set, you lay in bed, wondering what had gone wrong. Miller was a loving man, so it must have been you, something you did, said. Maybe you were just around too much for him to enjoy it.

Your weight sank deep into the mattress, drifting in and out of sleep. The sound of birds tweeting faintly disappears into nothing. You were now left with yourself. Soon, the light which was once pouring through your blinds faded into complete darkness.

You awoke a while later to the sound of Joel’s bedroom door slamming shut. The house ricochets as a result of his force. Still half asleep, you sit up, rubbing your eyes and humming with annoyance. The room spun with tiredness, and your heart began to beat the irregular pattern you knew so well.

Growing up, a lot of times you’d go to bed hungry. Too stressed to relax. The night would usually end in an argument between you and your parents. You’d tell yourself it would be fine in the morning, but the cycle always repeated.

Sometimes you’d wake up with your hand clenching your chest, with what should be a normal heartbeat, instead of arrhythmia. The room you grew up in would stay dormant, cold, and dark. Posters from your favourite bands would be ripped off the wall or half-hanging off. A place that should’ve been safe wasn’t, so you had to get out.

That's where college came in. Despite growing up in a stressful household, moving away was difficult. It was a change of routine, a change in location. And even though consistency was something that you craved, it still weighed heavily.

It took some time to adapt; for the first few weeks, you thought you’d have to quit and go home, the worry was too much to handle. But before you knew it, your life had changed. Now you rarely visited home. That was until you saw Mr Miller.

Miller had always been a consistent older figure in your life; you could say the only one. So naturally, you two reconnected after coming back for the holidays. You had met him for lunch one day and told him about college life and how it made you feel about home, and without a second thought, he offered his place. Although it was rather unconventional for you to be living at your dad’s friend's house, it gave you an opportunity to be in the town you grew up in, without having to face the wrath of your parents and be able to make positive memories there.

It started off as a one-time thing, staying at his house for the night. It gave you the fix you so desperately craved. The accustomed singing of the birds, the beautiful countryside and a familiar person who cared about you. But those once-a-semester visits soon turned into every trimester, then every month. You’d go half a year without contact with your parents, only ever returning for summer or Christmas, but it was better that way, better for all of you.

As expected, your relationship with Joel changed. He wasn’t just your ‘dad’s friend’ anymore; he was your friend. Someone who could guide you through early adulthood. You’d wake up to a bowl of fruit every morning, a fresh loaf of bread for lunch and some extremely tasty family recipe for dinner. Miller had morphed into the person you so severely needed. But somewhere, something went wrong.

Morning wakes you up with the sun bleeding through the shitty blinds in Miller's spare room. Your skin felt sticky with perspiration, and the sheets were strewn along the floor. Placing the soft soles of your feet onto the cold wooden floor, you walk to the window and open it. The fresh summer’s breeze dries your sweltered skin, alleviating any stress from the night before. Miller was mowing the yard, stripping the dead grass and revealing it’s green. You traced his movements as he walked back and forth, making a pretty pattern on the lawn. It’s usually how he spends his days off, outside either gardening or just pottering about. He needed it badly, you knew that Miller’s business stressed him out, but after the past few days, the realisation hit.

You’d never pay for anything, never helping to cook, sometimes you’d clean, but even then, he’d still have to go over what you had done just because you’d half-assed it. You were straining him, running him to the ground, so you had to change.

Rummaging through your drawers, you tried to find something clean to put on, but couldn’t find much, so an old pair of shorts and a t-shirt would have to do.

The floorboards creaked under your limping weight as you hauled your laundry basket down the stairs. With every step you took, underwear and socks fell out, leaving a trail down into the kitchen. Miller stood in the doorway that connected the kitchen to the garden, chugging a bottle of water. The gray t-shirt he was wearing clung to his soaked skin, and the buttons on his shorts had been undone.

Morning. You mumble as you pass him. The smell of his warm musk filled your nostrils. Had a good night?

Joel pauses mid-sip, panting at the labour he’d just done. Sure. Just went for a few drinks with Tommy.

Oh, how’s he? You ask. Haven’t seen him in a while.

The man pauses before taking another large gulp. Ah, he’s alright. He’s findin’ it hard without his girl around.

They’d broken up around a month ago, Tommy was in bits. It turns out she’d been sleeping around behind his back, so Tommy kicked her out.

That’s why I’ve liked havin’ you around. Makes it easier with Sarah gone.

Confused was the only word that could describe the way you felt. All the dread you had felt about being a burden was instantly lifted. It was like everything had gone back to normal. He was now making eye contact, forming full sentences and not being moody. Is this what it feels like to have kids? If so, you never ever want to have them.

A few hours had passed when you decided to lie on one of the lawn chairs outside. Mr Miller was still working away, pulling weeds out of the bushes and piling them in front of you.

By the time I’m done, this thing will be taller than you. He teases as he places down another handful.

I’m not a little girl anymore joel, it’s gonna take a while.

I know, I know. He mutters. You don’t even call me Mr Miller anymore.

Up until this year, you’d never used his first name. There was no reason why; it’s just how you had grown up. A way to show respect for people older than you, one of the stupid rules your parents had enforced.

The view of the garden was picturesque. It was filled with pretty pink peonies and bright yellow daffodils, as well as other various plants you couldn’t name. A dense collection of lily trees had been placed around the perimeter, allowing not only some privacy but also a place for bees to propagate. The lush greenery was something to thank Miller for, as he spent his days off making sure the earth was well-manicured.

It’s what your idea of heaven was, drifting in and out of sleep with the birds thrilling around you. It almost made you forget the stress from the past week; it felt like you were home again.

You wake up to find the garden empty, a cool breeze pricking at your skin. Miller must’ve gone for a shower or started on dinner.

The damp grass tickled your feet as you stepped inside, rubbing them dry against the mat. Your bare soles padded softly across the oak floor, making a quiet pat-pat toward the stairs. You looked up, expecting the sound of the shower or the thud of his heavy pacing, but the air held only silence. As you climbed toward the second floor, the old pipes groaned behind the walls, a low, mechanical cough echoing through the plaster. You nudged the bathroom door, watching it swing open with a soft click against the wall. The room was empty, the air still damp and smelling of stale soap. Miller wasn't there. You turned toward the end of the hallway, where his bedroom door stood slightly ajar, a narrow sliver of shadow cutting across the floorboards. Leaning forward, you peek inside. You were instantly hit with the familiar smell of his pine body wash, something that Joel had used consistently for years. You lean further, peaking around the corner towards his bed. What you see stops your heart mid-beat. Your eyes travel up slowly, Miller’s silhouette, starting at his feet, which were hanging off the mattress and moving toward his thighs. His boulder-like legs were revealed; he was completely naked, no longer wearing the shorts he had on earlier. You watched as his thick and sturdy chest moved with a gentle, fleshy bounce as his hand gently massaged his growing manhood. The long muscles of his forearm coiled and uncoiled with every stroke he made, while gently rubbing his tanned calves together.

A hot flush of shame prickled your neck. You shouldn't be here, and you certainly shouldn't be looking. But your eyes refused to move . The air grew thick with shame; it felt like you were trapped, unable to leave when deep down you knew you could. Instead, you sank deeper into the shadow. Your breath silently hitching, barely moving, scared he might catch you watching.

His body was fascinating, the way his toes would curl every time he’d get to his sensitive tip, or the way he’d bare his teeth when it became too much. He should’ve shut the door. You think, trying to convince yourself that it was his fault for you catching him. But it wasn’t.

Your pulse began to thump in the back of your throat. You’d betrayed him, his trust. After he’d basically raised you. What you were doing was unforgivable.

Miller lay completely exposed, oblivious to your presence. His hand moved rhythmically along the length of his erection, but it was the pink fabric in his other hand that caught your eye. He pressed it against his face, inhaling sharply as his tongue traced the cotton, his breathing heavy and aggressive. When he pulled the fabric away from his mouth and lowered it toward himself, the truth finally hit you.

You gasped, the sound escaping before you could stop it. That wasn't a towel, it was your underwear. He was slicking his own fluids across the crotch and waistband. You were close enough to see how long this had been happening; the fabric was stiff and discoloured with layers of dried patches. The original baby pink was lost under dark, brittle stains. Your heart hammered against your ribs, and as you clamped a hand over your mouth to stifle a sob, the sound only seemed to echo louder in the quiet room.

Miller’s head snapped toward the door. His mouth hung open, your underwear still clutched against him. The blood drained from his face, his eyes wide and darting with panic. He scrambled to throw a blanket over himself, but it was too late. You turned and stumbled out of the room, the image burned into your mind.

Wait!! He calls out, but you were already halfway down the stairs by the time his bedroom door swung open. You sobbed, the world blurring into a muffled haze as you fled. Stumbling back into the garden, you collapsed onto the chair and pulled your knees to your chest, tears of shock and grief stinging your cheeks.

A few moments later, Miller emerged, having thrown on some clothes. He approached with hesitant, heavy steps before sinking into the chair opposite yours. You peeked behind your forearm, looking up to see Joel's face.

I am so sorry you saw that. I-. I don’t. Miller trailed off, unable to string a coherent sentence together. He was suffocating under the weight of his own shame. You lowered your eyes, unable to endure the searing awkwardness of his gaze, but as you looked down, you were met with something else, causing Miller's words to fade.

A shadow pooled beneath the thick ridge, disrupting the line of his pyjamas. His hand brushed the front of his pants, momentarily highlighting the solid bulk resting there. Your gaze was unable to break from it. Not once in your life had you ever thought of him this way, but after what you had seen, it’s all you could focus on. The fabric of his pants was straining against his manhood, causing a rigid mound to form. The stripes on his pyjamas, which were once straight, were now warped around his tension. It was like he wasn’t trying to hide it.

Hello?- He cuts through, disrupting your train of thought. Are you gonna say anything?

Miller’s voice had turned ice-cold. The warmth of his earlier shame was gone, replaced by a brittle, defensive edge. This was a secret he had battled with for a long time, a dark compulsion he’d kept buried. Part of you wondered if getting caught was a mercy, a way to finally strip away the crushing weight of his guilt. But as you looked at him, you realised that wasn’t what he was thinking at all. He was distressed

I don’t know what to say. You mumble, your salty tears drying on your cheek. I’m- I’m just confused.

I know, I know, so am I. I don’t know how I let it happen. He places his head in his hands.

You couldn’t help but let your eyes wander back down to his pants. Although Miller didn’t know you had been watching, it made you feel better that he had an equally dark secret, his friend's daughter's panties.

Your eyes squint at the bulge in his pants, trying to make out where the shaft ends. The hem of his pants separated his sack into two large balls, swollen with desire. What if you hadn’t scoffed and just let him finish? Watch him paint your underwear with ropes of his sticky fluid.

Your perspective shifted with dizzying speed. The initial waves of embarrassment and shock began to recede, leaving a strange curiosity. You had never witnessed something so raw, someone touching themselves with such intent, and specifically doing so to a piece of your clothing. The realisation that your scent and your body’s imprint had triggered that level of desperation in him was as intoxicating as it was disturbing.

How’d it feel? The question cut through the heavy air, sharp and sudden. As soon as the words left your lips, a lump of regret formed in your throat, thick and hard to swallow. Miller’s head snapped up, his eyebrows furrowing into a deep, confused line.

What? he asked, his voice barely a whisper. He looked at you as if he hadn't heard correctly, or perhaps as if he couldn't believe you had the nerve to ask.

How’d it feel? You repeated, your voice steadier this time.

Miller’s expression hardened, the shock turning into a cold, defensive wall. That’s not an appropriate thing to ask someone, he snapped, his gaze narrowing. Especially not me.

Oh really? But using your friend's daughter's panties to jerk off into isn't? Your explicit choice of words cut his throat.

Um... He faltered, his eyes darting away as he struggled to find a foothold in the conversation. I think... I think this is a conversation for later. When it’s not as... fresh. He shifted in his seat, the discomfort radiating off him in waves, clearly desperate for an exit.

You trust me, don’t you? The question was quiet, almost gentle, but it carried a weight that made him freeze.

Trust you? Miller repeated the words as if they were a foreign concept. He looked at you then, the cold defensiveness in his eyes flickering with a sudden, raw vulnerability. The silence between you stretched, no longer just awkward, but heavy with the implication that his secret had handed you a tether, and you were starting to pull.

How about you let me help you?

Help me? Sweetheart. Miller let out a sharp, jagged breath that was almost a laugh. He leans forward, baring his teeth in a way that wasn't quite a smile, more like a warning. I’m forty-six, sweetie, you’re not gonna be helping me.

Why? You asked, your voice small but insistent. You watched him closely, your doe eyes fixed on his until the hard line of his shoulders began to sag. The silence stretched between you, heavy and thick, as you slowly wore down his resolve.

Miller looked away, his jaw tight as he struggled with the words. How would you even... He trailed off, gesturing vaguely between the two of you, his face flushing a deep, dark red. You know. How would that even work?

Miller was just as curious as you, of course, he was. The man was huffing your dirty panties for God's sake, why would he turn this down?

Maybe you could teach me a thing or two?

Miller didn't move. He sat perfectly still, his gaze fixed on you as if he were seeing you for the first time, not just as his friend’s daughter, but as a source of temptation. The patronising edge he’d used before vanished. You could see the internal war playing out. He was no longer the one in control; His secrets had stripped him of his authority, and your offer was an easy way out.

Are you tryna’ tell me you wanna suck my dick? Miller's eyes grew dark; his desire that he’d kept secret for so long was out in the open. Something he’d never thought was possible. Your eyes drifted back to his bulge for the third time; this time, it twitched under your gaze, his balls softly bouncing with temptation.

Your head gently nods as your tongue laps around your bottom lip.

Well, sweetie, you’re gonna have to use your words if you want somethin’. He says. His large digits travel across his thigh and onto his soft mound. If you wanna touch, you gotta use that pretty mouth of yours to say.

Miller squeezed the base of his cock, sending a chill of goosebumps down your back.

I wanna suck your dick, Mr Miller. You moan.

atta girl. He says. Miller had finally allowed his dark thoughts to take over; there were no secrets between you anymore.

You trail behind Joel as he leads you up the stairs. His peachy ass is tensing with each stride until you arrive at his bedroom.

The blankets lay discarded on the floor, kicked aside in his frantic rush to catch you. The pair of baby pink panties lay beside his pillow, mangled from his affection. Taking a closer look, you see the layers of his dried cum and spit. A man, so obsessed with you, went as far as stealing a pair of your dirty underwear, just so he could taste you. It was shocking; Miller always seemed like a nice, well-rounded guy, but his mind was corrupted with perverted desires.

You stand at the foot of the bed, rooted to the spot as Miller peels away his shirt with agonising slowness, the fabric clinging to his damp skin before revealing the tan, expansive swell of his torso. His pudgy stomach, soft and heavy, spills over the elastic waistband of his pyjamas, obscuring the seam entirely. Above, his chest is broad and fleshy, twitching with a thick, rhythmic tremor that marks every laboured breath he takes. Coarse, dark hair sprouted in dense patches around his nipples, narrowing into a thick, unruly line that split his manly torso. This rugged trail of hair tracked downward, disappearing beneath the low-slung waistband of his trousers. His hands travelled the surface of his chest, twirling at the hairs and pinching his nipples. His mouth hung open, wet with excitement as the man molested you with his gaze.

You’ve already seen me. he whispered, his voice a low rasp that seemed to catch in the quiet of the room. Are you going to let me see you? Princess… He leaned back against the headboard, his gaze fixed on you with an intense, unyielding focus as you reached for the hem of your tank top. That’s it, he murmured, a sharp exhale escaping him as he watched you. No need to be shy.

You watched as his hands moved toward the waistband of his pants, his fingers hooking beneath the edge.

Cmon baby, do it for Mr Miller. He cooed.

Reaching behind, you unbuckle the clasp on your bra. Your lush, overflowing curves flopped out of the fabric, nipples hardening under Miller's presence.

Wow. I mean, I must say you’ve got some nice tits. His eyes scan your silhouette with a mixture of awe and greed. His hand begins to move frantically in his pants, no longer hiding his erection. Why don’t ya let Mr Miller have a touch, huh?

Without a moment's pause, you knelt on the bed in front of him and straddled his legs. Miller let out a low hum as his hands reached up, his grip tightening against the curves of the lower back and hips, squeezing at your perky ass. Oh, baby, this is so wrong. What if your dad finds out? He moans, continuing to grope your body, before reaching your firm breasts. He plays with them, although they were big, somehow Miller's hands still covered the entirety of them.

A soft, broken moan escaped your lips, echoing in the quiet room. Miller looked up, a slow, knowing smile spreading across his face.

Oh, you like that, princess? You like it when I pinch your nipples?

Timidly, you can only nod in response.

Uh uh baby, use those words of yours. He punctuated the demand by catching your peaks between his fingers again, squeezing just enough to make your breath hitch.

Fuck Mr Miller, yes. Yes, I like it. You gasp, finally shifting forward to lower yourself onto his lap.

No, bad girl. He tuts sharply. He gave your nipples a sudden, firm twist that sent a jolt through your system. No cussing in this house. Do you understand?

Yes, Mr Miller. You cry, finally letting go of your breasts.

Joel’s eyes grew glazed and dark, a film of lust clouding his gaze as he leaned in close. His voice was a low, gritty rasp against your ear, thick with a perversion.

Ya feel that, sweetheart?

He remained perfectly still, his intense gaze locked on yours, searching for a reaction. The silence in the room stretched thin, heavy with the weight of his question. A steady, insistent pulse began to thrum beneath you, the sensation vibrating through the thin fabric of your shorts. Something blunt and hefty was prodding at you, pushing with a rhythmic pulse. Miller didn't pull away; instead, he bucked his hips upward, his entire weight pulsating against you as he drove himself into your seat.

That’s Mr Miller's cock, baby. This is what you’ve done to him. Miller's eyes frown at the sight of your tits as they hang over his face. I ain’t been this hard in years, honny. A low, desperate whine broke from Miller’s throat as he ground his hips harder against you, his movements frantic and heavy. The pressure was so intense that the smooth, swollen head of his member had slipped past the waistband of his trousers, glistening and slick. A bead of clear fluid escaped the narrow opening at the tip, trailing down the flushed skin.

Wow, you breathed, a soft moan vibrating in your chest. You reached down, pressing the pad of your finger against the hot, sensitive peak. It was tacky and searing to the touch. When you slowly pulled your finger away, a shimmering, translucent string of slick stretched between the tip of his length and your fingertip.

Taste it, baby, he urged, his voice thick and strained. It’s good for you.

The pad of your finger pressed slowly against your tongue, the heat of your mouth meeting the slick, salty residue. A sharp tang flooded your senses, a heavy, metallic bitterness. It tasted like him: raw, masculine, and undeniable. Miller watched with hooded eyes, his breath hitching as he witnessed your reaction to the pungent flavour of his precum.

It made you dampen, under Joel's sensual thrusts; you were practically dripping. He continued to dig himself into you, your pussy swallowing the gray shorts that once kept you somewhat modest. His hands are placed firmly on your thighs as his sicky tip drags across the fabric. It was big, bigger than you expected. Despite having seen it earlier, being so close made you realise how much of a man he was. After each hump, Miller's pyjamas slowly unwraveled, exposing his hairy manhood. A bulky, brown cock, etched with thick veins, began to jump with excitement. His flushed pink tip flooding with wetness.

You ever seen one so big before? So hairy. He asks, baring his teeth as he slows down his thrusts.

No, Mr Miller. Nodding with a forced sense of innocence while trying to hold his gaze.

Well, if you show me your pretty pussy, I might just let you try it, sweetheart.

The man's fingers traced the tattered seam of your shorts before hooking the waistband with his finger. With a slow and deliberate motion, he began to slide the fabric down, gradually revealing your soft skin beneath. Miller didn’t wait for answers; he did as he pleased, pulling the garment entirely off.

Fuck, that’s the pussy of a princess. He moans, placing a finger between your rosy lips. Gently, he parts your soaked vagina, revealing your strawberry insides, spilling with juices.

You ain’t ever been touched before. He knows, his eyes never breaking from your crotch.

As you had done to him, Miller removes his finger and places it onto his tongue, sucking on it like a dummy.

You taste too sweet to be used.

His eyes linger over your body, scanning every inch before rewarding you with the gift he had promised.

On your knees. He urges, sitting himself up. Miller pulls his pants off and throws them onto the floor. His cock rests against his belly button, thumping with excitement. Your lips find the coarse warmth of his thighs as you arch toward him.

Now baby. Take it slow, I don’t want you hurtin’ yourself. Miller strokes your hair as he pushes his cock towards your mouth. His tip drags along your forehead, then your nose, before finally reaching your drooling mouth. You inhale deeply, your senses tingling at the scent of his warm, sweaty musk, as well as the dried precum from earlier. Gradually, you open your mouth, sticking your tongue on the underbelly of his shaft. Deliberately, you begin to lick from the base, up to the tip, his salty skin making your taste buds dance.

Fuck. He moans as your warm mouth envelops his sticky tip.

It was a lot to fit in your mouth, your cheeks were bursting at the seams, but Miller wanted it too badly to stop. So, he wraps your hair into his fist and forcefully pushes your head down. Spit spurts out the openings of your mouth, painting his dark, coarse pubes with your sticky saliva.

The further he pushed, the harder his veins would pulse into your cheeks, making your jaw ache with tension. You begin to slop over his penis, suctioning him even further down your throat.

You look up at him, your eyes filled with water as he opens his mouth in concentration.

Fuck, me, sweetheart. So- fuckin’ warm. So tight. He hums as you gag on his length.

The room filled with the most disgusting sounds of you lapping around his cock, gagging and choking on your own spit, but you could only moan at the pleasure he was giving you.

You like it? He pants. Say it, say you like my big fat cock stuffed inside your throat.

Choking on your words, you can only let out a gargled yes before he removes himself entirely.

You are left gasping for air, as a mix of spit and salty slick floods out of your mouth and onto his thighs.

Miller caresses your aching cheeks before slapping his soaked cock onto your face. Staining you with his perversions. Before, his eyes were bright, wide, but now they grew dark and hooded. Mr Miller was about to fuck you up.

He slides under your cunt, gently nuzzling your entrance. Sit on me. He demands, grabbing your ass and slowly lowering you down onto his face.

The sensation is like no other. It's warm, prickly and wet. His nose gently parts your folds as you tongue teases your hole.

Fuck-. I mean, god Mr Miller. You whine as he makes out with your pussy. It was wet, messy, and most of all gut-wrenchingly sensitive. The mix of his stubble, teasing your ass and his tongue diving in and out of your lips made your core ache with warmth. You could feel your cheeks grow rosy as he left no part of you untouched. From your puckered ass to your swollen clit, he sucked, spat, and hummed until his face was completely soaked in your cum.

Fuck, you taste so sweet. He said, taking breaks from eating you out. You like this old man eating your pussy? Yeah?

His language was shocking. Twenty-four hours ago, you couldn’t imagine him being face-first inside you, but he was. And it made you so unbareably horny.

Yes, yes, sir. You moan, unable to speak a coherent sentence. The nerves you once had were gone, and now you were rubbing yourself all over his nose. Miller's mouth gurgled as he tried to swallow your fluid, but the old man couldn’t keep up. He suddenly pushes himself off of you, gasping for air as he grabs your face and shoves you into his pillow.

Listen sweetheart. He spits. We had a deal: you show me that cute lil’ pussy of yours, and you could suck my dick. But I don’t want you to suck my dick. Okay?

Okay. Your words are muffled by the feathers as he pushes the back of your head harder.

I’m gonna fuck your cunt until you cum over my dick. Deal?

Yes, Mr Mill- but before you could finish, his cock was already lining your entrance. His precum begins to paint your swollen lips.

He had warned you before that it wouldn’t fit, but you didn’t want to believe him. But after seeing how big it was compared to you, maybe he was right.

Miller glides his cock up and down your folds, gently parting them. It felt so unnatural for a man to be touching you there, the place where your parents said was only for your husband. Not for dad’s friend Mr Miller.

He pushes himself in, just the tip. A loud squelch filled the room, a mix of both his and your arousal. You gasp at the sensation, your pussy stretching far beyond its limits, just to fit his tip. He grabs onto your ass for stability as he drives himself further in. Your lips are stinging around his manhood.

FUCK MILLER. You scream as he rips you in half. It felt so good. His cock stretching your virgin walls sent your clit thumping. It didn’t take long for you to engulf him fully, his cock far in your tummy.

Ugh fuck Miller, it feels so- so.

Good huh? You like how my cock fills your soaked pussy? He hums into your ear as he lies on top of you, his body weight crushing your body.

He pumps in and out, his pubes tickling your ass hole, his balls slapping your skin.

Uhhhhhh. A long, low moan releases from deep within his stomach. Fuck, it’s so tight, baby, so fucking tight.

He had completely melted inside you; any last authority he had over you was gone.

His cock, warm, twitched deep inside of you as his calloused hands spread your ass apart. Miller's tongue began to lick deep inside your ear, sending a trail of goosebumps down your back. The thrusts were electric as his hips bucked into you. The room was filled with sounds of skin slapping, Miller's deep, low hums and your long, whining moans. Your velvet skin is being ruined under his rough, experienced body. Mr Miller knew how to please a woman and knew how to leave his mark.

His cock pops out of your cunt, a signal that it's time to change position.

Get on your back, I wanna watch you stretch around me. He said.

You get onto your back and bring your knees to your chest. Miller aligns his chode between you, before thrusting in again, this time not hurting so bad. He anchors you down, holding your knees for stability as the once soft thrusts turn aggressive. His brows furrow, and his eyes roll back at the intense tingling in his tip. Your pussy was seeping with sticky juice as his balls slapped against your ass hard. He was about to cum, but not before you. A deep, searing heat began to grow in your belly, your fingers and toes sweating at the long, hard humps of Mr Miller. Your vision begins to blur, and your eyes cross as the pain in your belly is released over his cock. Sticky squirts of cum explode onto him and his bed, showering his body with your innocence.

Fuck- daddy. You moan as your clit is hit with pins and needles. I, I feel like I'm gonna pee-

That's it baby, let it out, don't be shy. It's okay. Fuck babygirl, cum over daddy. He says, shocked at the amount of cum a girl of your size could produce. His wiry pubes were now glued together, stuck down to his skin, and his cock began to pulse faster inside you. His cock twitches before letting out a low, extremely loud moan. FUCKKKKKKK, princess Fuck, Fuck, Fuck. As his hot sticky cum paints your virgin insides.

The man cums so much, it can’t help but escape. Seeping out of the sides of your pussy. His cock begins to soften inside you, before pulling it out completely. It makes a squelching sound, followed by trails of his cum, feeding down your ass hole and onto his sheets. He had ruined you entirely; your body was never going to be the same.

Miller gets up and picks up your pink panties from before. He gently wipes your pussy and ass clean of his cum, before putting them back into his drawer.