Page 7 of Staying Home with Dad's Best Friend
I cuddle against him for the rest of the film, and when it’s over, I don’t stir.
“Are you all right, Meg?” he asks and I can hear the laughter in his voice.
“Y…yes,” I say. I should really pull away from him, but I don’t want to. It feels so comfortable in his arms. “I’m…err…sorry. I’m not as brave as I thought.”
“It’s okay.” Frank smiles and rubs my back.
I relax into him, sniffing his t-shirt. It smells mint and parsley he used for the pasta sauce and it’s the sexiest scent I’ve known. I hear myself coo and feel his hand moves lower to my waist, nearly touching my butt.
I’m so aroused I put my arm around his neck and sit on his lap. I press my boobs against his firm chest and kiss his ear.
Frank’s breath hitches and his cock twitches in his jeans. His hand is palming my butt through my shorts.
I trace my lips along his jaw, feeling the prickling of his stubble. I suck on his firm, chiseled lips, and he sucks me back.
As he claims my mouth with his skillful tongue, Frank’s hands are under my t-shirt and roaming on my back. He reaches to my front and cups my breast from below.
I moan, liking the touch of his rough hands.
As soon as he lets go of my mouth, I move slightly away from him and lift my t-shirt, showing him my silver-star Nippies.
Frank’s pupils dilate as he inhales sharply. “Shit, Meg. I thought they were hearts.”
“I changed them after the shower,” I say in a sultry voice. “I’m glad you noticed them.”
“You should start wearing a bra, little girl,” Frank’s face is red as he pushes up my boobs and then let them bounce. “These tits look heavy. They need some support.”
I squirm on his lap. “Sure, I will, if you buy me some.”
His eyes turn stormy. He strokes the stars and presses them between his fingers.
I whimper. “You can take them off me if you want.”
He peels them off me promptly. As soon as the stickers are gone, he presses his lips on my pebbled bud and sucks me hard.
“Ahh,” I cry as I watch my glistening pearl going in and out of his mouth, more swelling each time when it’s out. This is so hot. I’m burning between my thighs and my panties are melting with desire.
Without hesitation, I take off my shorts.
“Jesus, Meg,” Frank rasps. “Do you always wear such sexy underwear?”
I giggle. “It’s just a thong, Frank. And it isn’t even crotchless.”
“Crotchless? Christ,” he says as he slips a finger into the strip of fabric, and then he groans. “Why’re you so wet, Meg?”
“Mm...I’m not sure, Frank. I guess I’m turned on,” I say in a throaty voice. I don’t know what’s gotten into me. I’m not a slut, but I’ve turned into one ever since this morning. I’m aching for Frank’s touch. I want his finger inside me, or even better, his hard rod.
Frank curses again but doesn’t speak. He strokes my petals up and down and rubs circles around my nub, sending delicious shivers down my spine. I’ve touched myself often, but Frank’s fingers are definitely more skillful and experienced. He alternates between circling and strumming across my naughty bit. He presses it hard for a minute and strokes it softly in another. He’s unpredictable and masterful. I squirm on his lap like a crazy woman.
“Stop teasing me, please, Frank,” I beg in a croaky voice, feeling the tension building inside me. “Make me come!”
Frank’s breathing becomes rugged and I can hear his heart beating thunderously against his chest. When his pinches my bud in his fingers and tweaks it a bit, I scream. A dam breaks inside of me, and a river floods onto my thighs.
“Holy shit,” Frank closes his eyes and continues to feel my wetness. And then unexpectedly, he thrusts a finger inside me and gyrates it along my walls. “You’re so tight, baby, tight as a virgin.”
I moan again, liking his finger. And then I make a slip of the tongue, “I am a virgin.”
He pauses for a moment, and then he pulls out his finger. “Shit. I’m so sorry, Meg. But you really fooled me.”
