Dad is playing with me

Untitled 2

"Hey, Diana, are you still mad at us?" Fernanda asks as I approach them when I arrive at the café where we work together. It belongs to Paula’s mom, and she lets us work here to save up before we go to college.

You have to remember that he’s my father.

—Stepfather—they both correct. I roll my eyes.

“It doesn’t matter; they can’t go talking in front of me about the things they want to do to him or have him do,” I snapped irritably, putting on my apron alongside them.

"You said it, big men really do know how to satisfy our needs," Paula points out.

—Matheus hasn’t had a woman since my mother died over ten years ago, girls. How can you believe he still knows how to do that? — I replied, wanting them to stop lusting after him.

I know he’s no saint; I’ve caught him kissing some woman in the shop’s office a couple of times. I imagine he does more than that, but it’s none of my business, and if I have to make him look like bad news in front of the girls so they’ll stop wanting him, I’ll do it.

—Oh, please, Diana, it’s obvious he’s not going to sleep with anyone in front of you, but a man needs s*x just as much as women do. He must be hooking up with a lot of women. Anyone who doesn’t want to get laid by him would have to be blind — Paula declares, very confidently.

She really wants to fu*ck my father. Regardless of whether he’s my stepfather and not my father, I won’t let that happen.

—Okay, but I don’t want you guys to be with him. He's my father.

—Stepdad!—they both exclaim. Bufo, seeing everyone in the room, turned to look at us.

—It doesn’t matter, I don’t want him to be seduced. We’ll find another man to fu*ck, but it won’t be my stepfather —I declared, and they both rolled their eyes.

—You’re a bore. Are you going to tell us your pu*ssy doesn’t get wet when you see him shirtless? — Paula retorts. I open my mouth, indignant at her words.

—How dare you?!—I hiss quietly so no one else can hear us. They both huff.

"Please, Diana, Matheus is ready to suck it all up, and you’re lucky to live with him," Fernanda declares, backing up Paula’s crazy antics. I think you’re both in bad shape.

—You’re both crazy. It would be disrespectful to see Matheus as a man after all these years, I declared, but my treacherous mind has brought up his shirtless body, just like the girls said.

I grumbled and got up, starting to do my work away from them because their words had really annoyed me.

The morning is really torture; I spent the whole time thinking about what the girls said. I know Matheus is very well-preserved for thirty-nine, but it’s because of his job. Besides being the only decent mechanic in town, he’s the only one who knows how to fix jet skis, since he races them in the town’s competitions.

The training is tough; I’ve seen him train many times, and I know everything it demands, as well as the diet he follows at home. In fact, I don’t think I’ve ever seen him so toned as he is since he started swimming for two hours every day. Sometimes I join him, but I really can’t understand how he can spend so much time swimming without his arms getting tired. Also, I think I’ve seen him swimming more than he spends training on the jet ski.

I have no idea if it’s an easy sport, but with the huge waves we have on the town’s beaches, I highly doubt it is.

However, he makes it look easy. When he competes, it’s as if he has complete control of the sea at all times. He takes ownership of the waves and handles the jet ski as if he were riding on flat ground. He’s the best, honestly.

Resigned to the fact that I won’t be able to concentrate today, I’m doing my work as best I can, but I keep getting orders mixed up, running into things, and feeling like the clock isn’t moving at all. I can’t concentrate; I need to get out of here, take a cold shower, and slam my head against the door to see if I can get the mental image of Paula sucking Matheus' d**k in front of me out of my head.

The worst part is that, as I watch her kneeling in front of him, making sounds of pleasure like the woman on TV last nite, Matheus has her by the hair, but his eyes are fixed on mine, subtly growling with each of Paula’s movements on his c**k.

I growl furiously as my gaze leaves my eyes and drops downward, growling at her.

"Diana, are you okay?" Paula asks, bringing me back to reality. I take a deep breath and nod slowly, not wanting to look at anyone in particular. Okay, if it’s about what happened earlier, I’m sorry, he says, trying to get closer to me, but I turn away.

"Everything's fine, let's just do our job so we can get out of here," I declared.

I hate girls.

I hate them.

I let out a sigh of relief when the clock finally struck dismissal time, and without a second. I locked myself in the bathroom to change, leaving the girls behind.

—Diana!—they call out to me, running to catch up. Okay, forgive us. We won’t say again how much we want to fu*ck your stepfather — Paula promises, raising her hand in a gesture of promise. I squint my eyes.

I don't believe them.

"Hey, a little faith, sis," they both complain in unison. I laugh, unable to help it because of how in sync we are, since I already knew they’d say that.

—Okay, one last chance, but if you so much as hint at doing anything to Matheus again, you’ll have me to deal with—I warn them, pointing my finger at them. The two of them nod, rolling their eyes.

—Understood, Captain, no f*****g the tasty old man —Paula agrees, but I don’t believe a word she says; I know she’ll try to get into Matheus’s bed and scream his name while he f***s her. I grunt at the fleeting memory of my thoughts in class a little while ago.

"Okay, okay, don't be so grumpy," Fernanda orders, grabbing my arm. Paula mimics her and takes my other arm, leaving me in the middle as we walk back inside the café. I hope I can get through this day without imagining my stepfather fu*cking my friends in front of me again.

Just as we see Paula’s mother walk through the café door to replace us, my cell phone vibrates in my pocket. I pulled it out and read “Dad” on the screen. I answer.

—Hey, I came to pick you up. "I'm in front of the cafeteria," he says.

Okay, I’m on my way.

"Ask her if she can take us," Paula screeches, waving to her mother. I give her a dirty look, and she just laughs.

"The girls are asking if they can come with us," I say through gritted teeth, not wanting him to agree.

—I’m sorry, my love, I didn’t bring the truck. “I came on my motorcycle,” he explains, and the girls pout when they hear him over the loudspeaker.

"Okay, I'm on my way," I say and hang up, putting my phone back in my pocket.

“If my love said that to me, he’d have my p***y soaking wet all the time,” Paula admits once her mother has left us to get ready. That really makes me laugh. I punched her shoulder, and the three of us laughed as we went out.

They're crazy.

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