Chapter 1
1048 Words
I’ve wanted to f**k him since I turned seventeen. Or rather, I’ve wanted him to f**k me since I turned seventeen.
But I became interested in him long before then, I guess…actually from the moment I
learned about s*x and of all the neat little things I could do with my p***y. Like having a c**k shoved into it. Or fingers. Or a dildo.
I’ve always found creative ways to sate my raunchy curiosity. And now, at eighteen, I still want to do the nasty with Mr. Parker, my need rising higher every time he swings by the house.
Mr. Joseph Parker is my dad’s best friend and an Army buddy from way back. My dad
resigned his commission years ago, but Mr. Parker had stayed in, doing the whole special commando thing. He’s all macho, complete with black face paint and sneaking around in the middle of the night to kill bad guys. He’s able to survive solely on grass and insects or something.
He’s not handsome by today’s standard…not a lanky guy in skinny jeans and that whole
androgynous thing going on. He’s manly and there’s just something about him that makes me wet each time he comes within an arm’s length, causing my body to quiver with need. Maybe it’s his toned, muscled body, his soul-melting eyes or his big d**k (which I can easily spot when he wears his jogging suit). Either way, I want to jump his bones. Seriously. Hard core.
Of course Mr. Parker isn’t interested in me. Or at least pretends he isn’t.
To him, I’m just his best friend’s little girl. Even though in the past four years I’ve grown from a stick figure into a fully developed young woman. I have a pair of firm D-cup breasts that I love to stroke and fondle when I masturbate and a shapely ass that all of my friends envy. Boys always want to grab my behind, and older perverts can’t seem to keep their gazes off it when I walk by. I’m not a slut, but I like to tease. Okay, maybe that nudges me closer to being slutastic, but I’m very selective about who I sleep with. I don’t f**k losers and I’ve always been interested in older guys.
What can I say? They’re more experienced in bed. There’s more to s*x than just sticking your d**k in the wet hole and jiggling it in and out. They know how to eat a woman properly, how to make a round of s*x last long into the night. Unlike some boys I’ve f****d. A few jabs and they came all over me. Ugh. And Mr. Parker, the object of my desire, is the only one I can’t seem to lure into playing choo-choo into my panties.
But it doesn’t stop me from wanting him.
Mr. Parker got divorced a couple years ago. The gossip is his wife left him because she couldn’t take being alone all the time. Which is bull crap. Mr. Parker was often deployed to different countries at moment’s notice, but he’d never left his wife for longer than a few months.
I heard rumors that Amanda, cheated on him all the time. People talked. I caught my mom gabbing to her friends on the phone about the way Amanda would screw anything that had a c**k. From the delivery guy, to the sleazy bar owner on King Street and a stripper with a strap-on. I couldn’t understand what kind of woman would want to divorce a man like Mr. Parker.
Dumb b***h, apparently.
I did a high-five in secret when I heard the news Amanda had served Mr. Parker with
divorce papers. It had given me the edge I needed to seduce him. I didn’t know how and when, but I knew someday he would be mine.
For the last couple of months, I’ve sent him signals. Dad always invites him over for dinner every Sunday night if he is in the country, or when my dad and his friends play poker. Mr.
Parker always does his best to ignore me, but the guy is lonely. I know it. I can see it in his eyes, eating away at him. His c**k seems to be fighting with his brain whenever I drop my hints, though. Twitching and filling when I lean too close.
He has to think I’m untouchable. Being his friend’s daughter and all.
My dad doesn’t approve of me dressing like a w***e. (His words, not mine.) And I don’t need to. I can get any guy, even in my Sunday best and covered from head to toe. I just graduated from a good Catholic school and I used to wear the standard plaid uniform—a short skirt and a fitted, white blouse. When Mr. Parker would come over to the house during the day, I would exchange my white bra for a black one and undo the first three buttons of my shirt, so he could see the tanned line of my cleavage. He always averted his gaze as if he were being chastised by an invisible nun.
Or if he came at night, I would change into my tight jogging suit that outlined the shape of my body. Especially my firm little ass. I liked to wiggle it suggestively whenever he glanced in my direction. And he would always blush.
Kind of adorable. To see a grown man blush.
But what I like even more was to see a grown man cry. Whenever I ride a guy’s d**k hard and have him under me, sobbing in pleasure, it makes me feel strong and powerful. Like a goddess.
Two weeks ago, my parents talked about sending me to Brown University. With my good
grades and the credits I’d earned, my acceptance had been a slam dunk. My mom and dad attended the school way back when, meeting in their first year, and they’d decided they wanted me to follow in their footsteps.
I didn’t mind. But I had a little unfinished business.
Mr. Joseph Parker. I wanted to have him before I left for college.
Since Mr. Parker had always ignored my hints, I’d decided I’m the one who was going to make the first move. I’d seduce him if I had to.
- Writer
