He was always good to me, and he paid attention to me when my dad didn't. He taught me how to ride a bike, helped me with homework, built a tree house with me. I masturbated in our tree house daily, fantasizing about him joining me in it. I thought when we were building it that he would. I thought that was why we were building it. But he never did.
Even though he never did anything about it over all of those years, I could always tell he wanted me too. It was in the way he looked at me. But he never made a move, and then I found out he was a criminal, and then he was gone. It hurt that he was able to break laws, but not that one. It hurt that he didn't break me. I guess even criminals have their moral codes.
He was just... gone. We assumed he took his share of the stealings and absconded from the country to live in luxury forever.
I still fantasized about him a lot though. A lot.
"I waited so long," I say.
"Driving you and your date to prom was rough," he says.
"I was young and stupid," I say.
"That's why I knew I had to wait," he says.
"In retrospect, I'm glad you did what you did that night," I say. "He deserved it. I think I even knew that at the time. I was just stupid."
"We are all stupid at that age," he says. "I expected to get arrested for beating up a teenage boy."
"He never said a word about it," I say. "He never even spoke to me again. I didn't really care. Someone else already had my attention."
"Someone forbidden," he says.
"Very," I say.
I really don't know what to say. I'm a little in shock still.
"Order in the Court?" he asks.
"Huh?"
"Your phone is ringing."
"Oh scheiss!" I say. My ringtone is the Order in the Court TV show theme song.
I answer the call and it's Howard Bosch. He wants to know where I am because I have been gone for forty-five minutes and lunch is only supposed to be thirty minutes for interns. Great. The paralegals don't care what I do, the partners don't care what I do, and six of the seven associate attorneys don't care what I do. Apparently, Howard Bosch does care what I do, and is going to hold me to a set of rules I don't even know about.
"I'll walk you back," Grant says.
On the way back, he looks me over from behind.
"How bad is it?" I ask. I know I am dirty and disheveled.
"You look like you got fingered up against a brick wall," he says.
"Oh, great," I sigh. "This afternoon is going to be rough."
"Sorry, not sorry," he says, brushing off my back a little as we walk.
"I'm not complaining," I say. "You're totally worth it."
"Good girl," he says.
I like that.
"So, sir," I say, "am I supposed to call you Grant or Dale?"
"Dan," he corrects me.
"I know," I say, "I just want you to be aware I'm not going to call you that."
"You'll call me what I tell you to call me, little girl," he says.
"And you can call me tonight, Grant," I say, just asking for trouble.
He hands me his phone and I save my phone number on it under that name "Kitten."
"You remember that?" he asks when he sees it. "I stopped calling you that when you were fifteen because it made you mad."
"It made me horny," I say. "It was just fun to act mad."
"Good luck with your boss, Kitten," he says when we get back to his work site.
"Call me, Grant," I say with a wink.
One of his coworkers gives him that confused look when he hears the unfamiliar name.
"She says I remind her of U.S. Grant," he explains.
"That the payday loan place over on Penbrook?" the guy asks.
"Yup," Grant says.
~~~
Of course I can't get Grant off my mind as I head back into the law firm. The sky is a rainbow but there is a dark cloud over that rainbow. Is Howard going to try to ruin my glorious day?
What happens is that Howard isn't even in the building. Sharon tells me he is going to be at the courthouse for the rest of the day. She also says not to worry about Howard, that he's just like that. The college isn't going to be getting any performance reviews from Howard about me. He's tried to steamroll over previous interns. He says the world isn't fair or kind and that he's giving newbies a taste of reality. Sharon says Howard harps about how only the elite should have careers and everyone else should work in fast food, but he has also written legislation to eliminate minimum wage entirely.
What happens with interns is that he writes invariably negative performance reviews, and submits them to the partners, as per the bureaucratic chain of command. Then the partners just thank him for the input and then when he leaves, they call Sharon in to drop the review into the paper shredder. It's just tradition at this point.
I wonder how Howard is able to keep his job, if he's such a jerkface. Then I remember two things I heard my dad say a million times: One was that adults are horrible at their jobs. The other was that success isn't a meritocracy -- shit rolls uphill. From what I gather, my dad had taken advantage of both of those philosophical tenets when he bilked millions of dollars out of a hopelessly incompetent system devised and administered by uphill shits that were horrible at their jobs. My dad made millions of dollars because people like Howard are belligerently stupid. Howard will be partner someday, and it shouldn't come as a surprise.
Also, the irony isn't lost on me that my dad ended up in prison because he ultimately was horrible at his job of being a criminal.
What's important today is that no one cares what I do at the office.
With that in mind, I slip back downstairs to that private restroom. I have some schlicking to do.
~~~
Grant doesn't call me that night. He doesn't text me either. Do old people text each other? I think about sending him a text, maybe just a "what's up" or a "hey tiger" or something. Of course I know I shouldn't. The question of whether old people even text is what I cling to in order to keep from hitting send on a message I would regret.
I don't see him out my window the next day, sweaty and sexy in the hot sun. And he doesn't call.
Or the next day either.
Will he ever call? Did he even happen? Does he even exist? Maybe it really is all in my head.
Why did I think he loves me? Maybe he was just messing around with a pretty girl. Maybe he isn't a good guy after all, and this was all just a long game to further screw over my dad by having sex with his little girl. Yes, Celia, he changed his name and spent years building a new civil service career as a physical laborer just so he could possibly someday work near where Bobby Fenlow's daughter happened to be doing an internship. And then he made his move to deflower the virgin for the ultimate final conquest. Totally plausible. I'm not insane at all. That's exactly what happened.
But... I mean... he still wants to fuck me, right?
Why isn't he calling?
~~~
T hree days later, he still hasn't called. I'm at my parent's house, and I'm making dinner with my mom. It's shepherd's pie. My favorite. We're just putting it into the over to bake for an hour when my mom freezes perfectly still and silent. She looks puzzled.
What's wrong mom? She asks if I hear the Order in the Court TV theme song playing.
Order in the Court theme song?
YES!
Could it be him?!
I rush to the living room and dig my phone out of my purse.
It's Grant!
"Do you live in the same house?" he asks.
Ugh, do I have to admit I live with my parents?
"Yes," I say.
"Are you home alone?"
"No," I say. "My mom is here."
"Meet me in the tree house in ten minutes," he says.
Oh hell yes. I take the fastest shower ever, throw on a cute tank top and a pair of shorts and I rush outside. My mom reminds me dinner will be ready in an hour. I don't know if I can last an hour anyway, but I
'm certainly going to try to hang in there.
~~~
I rush into the backyard to the big oak tree. I climb up a wooden ladder that I haven't climbed since he left me. When I get to the top, Grant is already in the tree house.
The tree house smells like sex.
The smell of the maple lumber we used to build the supporting structure was forever associated with memories of all the times I came up here to imagine my fingers were Grant inside me. The feelings come flooding back to me. It's possible that I'm also sensing the years of wet pussy and cum saturating the floor boards.
Grant pulls me close as soon as I get inside the tree house. Of course, he smells like sex too.
"Where have you been?" I ask him. I want to know why he hasn't called me. Is that too clingy?
It doesn't matter, because he ignores it anyway.
He holds my face in his hands and he touches his lips to mine. This time he doesn't tease me with them. He kisses me. Hard and deep.
"I only have about an hour," I say, and he just kisses me harder.
I peek around him and see the full moon shining through the back window of the tree house. I can only imagine how romantic the sight would be if you were in my bedroom on the second floor of the house, looking out the window into the backyard. You would see the romantic silhouette of two lovers romantically framed in the tree house window, with the romantic moon shining romantically behind them.
"Fuck me," I whisper in my man's ear.
I put my hand on his chest and push him away. His back hits the wall. I hope my sexy eyes and coy smirk communicate the message that I just want him to stay there and watch me. He leans back and crosses his arms. He holds his chin in his hand as if to say, "show me what you've got, little girl."
There's no music, but I dance for him. It's embarrassing and awkward the way I sway my hips and gyrate. I seductively pull my tank top off over my head, and let my tits hang free in the night air. I feel like an idiot, but I hope he likes it.
And then he takes out his phone.
What the fuck? Is he texting? My tits are up here, boy.
But no, he gives his phone a swipe and a tap and we have music for dancing. All of the awkwardness goes away when there is a rhythm to move to. I melt into the moment, uninhibited, and he does the same.
Oh my gosh, if I felt like I looked silly, imagine how silly he must look. He's basically a burly construction worker at this point, big, strong, middle aged, and moving his hips like a nineteen year old at the club. I can't help but laugh, but it doesn't stop him, and if I am being honest, I am totally enjoying it.
We start competing. Who can dance the sexiest? It's ridiculous. And it's totally not fair that he has so many clothes on when all I have on is these shorts. He takes advantage of the situation and gives me a very erotic striptease.
He slowly unbuttons his shirt and slides it off his big shoulders, exposing his broad tattooed chest and tight, rocky abs.
I can't take my eyes off of that body, so I look over my shoulder when I turn my body away from him and pull my shorts down in the back. I pull them down just enough to tease him with my round little ass, but I'm not giving him too much. The shorts are all I have, and he's still got those pants on. I can already see the outline of his growing cock through them, and I want to see how long I can make him suffer.
He quickly reminds me that I'm not the one making the rules though.
He grabs me from behind and holds me close. I can feel that hard dick pushing against my ass. He picks me up and takes me to the open front window of the tree house and bends me over it.
He doesn't waste any more time on foreplay. He has wanted this as long as I have. Part of me wants to savor every second, relish every first touch. Part of me just wants his dick to fill me up already, like it should have done years ago.
That's the part that wins.
He fucks me, bent over the window sill.
He starts out slowly. I'm soaking wet and ready for his dick. But he's thick and he's long and it takes a little finesse and patience to work it all the way into me. It hurts a little but less than I expected my first time to.
When he's fit it all in, he stops being gentle and he rails me hard and deep. He fucks me like he doesn’t know I’m a virgin. I don’t think I mentioned it to him. This is how I had always wanted it to be.
As his cock pounds into me from behind, I can see the yard where you used to play catch.
While his dick slams hard into my pussy, I can see the patch over at the side where we had a car wash to raise money for me to go to camp.
I wondered if he had ever sat in this tree house and watched me undress through my bedroom window. That's the reason I always left the blinds open, just in case. He could have had me anytime he wanted me. He made me wait. He's a good man.
He grabs me by hair and pulls me back out of the window. He pushes me back to my knees and I suck him like a good little girl. But I want him back inside me. I tell him to lie down on the floor, and by some miracle he obeys me.
I slide my pussy down his long hard cock and I ride the fuck out of the man I've wanted for all these years.
I can't take my eyes off of him. His eyes, his lips, his shoulders, his chest. My eyes follow the angled line of his oblique muscles down to where they disappear under my body.
Then I wrap my hands around those muscles and hold them for support while I fuck the life out of myself.
In front of me, I see where we carved our initials in the wood on the wall after we finished building the tree house. And the heart I carved in between them. I slam down onto him hard, driving that thick pole up into my cunt, drenching his dick, his belly and the floor below us with my fuck juices. It is too much for either of us to take.
My face and chest are burning up. I get flushed when I am getting close, and I am most definitely getting close. My body shudders and shakes, and he grabs me by the hips and takes over. I fall onto his chest and he pounds hard up into me and he doesn't let go and he doesn't slow down.
And the tension builds and it builds, and then all at once it releases in a hot rush of trembling ecstasy through every inch of my fucked-out body. My mind goes blank and every essence of my being gathers in the contractions between my legs.
~~~
I don't even pull him out of me. I just lie on top him and he holds me for what feels like forever. He feels like forever. But it couldn't have been forever, because my mom calls out that dinner is ready.
"That was only an hour?" I ask. "I feel like I've been fucked all night."
"Next time you will be," he says.
"I better," I say. "Want to come in for dinner."
"Not this time," he says. "Seeing your mother again is going to be a whole other thing."
"Are you gonna fuck my mom too?" I tease him.
"She's been legal the whole time," he says back.
"You fucker!" I playfully punch him in the arm. "Don't even joke about that."
I snuggle up close to him.
"You're mine," I say.
"You're mine," he says back, and then, "Dinner is ready."
He helps me back down the ladder, kisses me goodnight and he is gone again.
If you enjoyed Nailed by Daddy’s Best Friend, also read…
DADDY’S
BEST FRIEND: VOLUME 1
Featuring 3 sexy older man / younger woman first time erotic short stories
NAILED BY DADDY’S BEST FRIEND
PUMPED BY DADDY’S BEST FRIEND
TAPPED BY DADDY’S BEST FRIEND
Available now on Amazon
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Table of Contents
Naughty Night Nurses
CHAPTER 1 – START OF SHIFT
CHAPTER 2 – LONG BONE/WHITE LINE
CHAPTER 3 – AMBULANCE CHASER
&
nbsp; CHAPTER 4 – DOCTART
CHAPTER 5 – CODE SCREW
CHAPTER 6 – HOUSE CALLS
CHAPTER 7 – SUNRISE SYNDROME
CHAPTER 8 – BODY MECHANICS
CHAPTER 9 – RADIATING PLEASURE
CHAPTER 10 – DIGITAL MANIPULATION
CHAPTER 11 – EQUAL AND REACTIVE TO LIGHT
CHAPTER 12 – MOON BOOTS
CHAPTER 13 – STAR FUCKER
CHAPTER 14 – EVIDENCE-BASED NURSING
CHAPTER 15 - CONTRAINDICATED
CHAPTER 16 – INFORMED CONSENT
CHAPTER 17 – OCCUPATIONAL HEALTH
CHAPTER 18 – EPILOGUE
Nailed by Daddy’s Best Friend
Daddy’s Best Friend: Volume 1
Naughty Night Nurses Page 14
