"Stories 18+" Filling In for Mom C1

Stories 18+ Filling In for Mom C1
"Come on, Megan..." 

Greg watched his wife continue to lie in bed while she read her tablet. She appeared to have no interest in what he was talking about. 


There wasn't a response. 

"You can't just stop having sex with me." 

"I'm pretty sure I can," she told him while continuing to look down. 

Greg took a deep breath. "Did I do something?" 

"Nope," Megan coldly responded. 

"We need to talk about this." 

"Aren't we talking now?" she asked with her face still buried in the screen. 

Greg climbed up onto the bed, laid down next to his wife, and reached over to turn off her Kindle. Megan took an annoyed huff before setting the electronic reader down and looking at her husband. 

"We haven't had sex in a year," he told her while looking into her green eyes. "A year!" 


"And?" Greg laughed. "And!?" 

"Yeah, I haven't been in the mood, Greg." 

"For a year!?" he yelled. "How can you not be in the mood for an entire year?" 

"I'm just not," she replied. "I told you I went to the doctor and she said this sometimes happens when you get older. That people can just lose interest in sex." 

"She?" Greg raised his eyebrows. "Of course..." 

"What is that supposed to mean?" she huffed. 

"How about going to a male doctor?" 

Megan shook her head. "I'm not going to a male doctor!" 

He took a long exhale. "How about a blowjob then?" 

"We just did that." 

"Excuse me?" Greg asked. 

"I just gave you one a while ago." 

The dad had a shocked look on his face. "Megan...you gave me a blowjob on Halloween night..." 

"And?" she asked. 

"It's fuckin' April!" 

"Keep your voice down!" she scolded him. "Do you want Mia to hear her father whining like some teenage boy?" 

He rolled his eyes. "Whining? This is fuckin' ridiculous! You can't just deprive me of basic sexual needs and act like it's not a big deal." 

"It isn't," she argued. "Just go jerk-off or something." 

Greg couldn't help but smile. Here he was, a forty-one-year-old married father of one, masturbating more than he had as a teenager. "I'm done with that." 

"Oh, you are?" Megan smirked. 

"Yeah, no more. We're having sex or you're giving me head or something." 

The mom raised her eyebrows. "I don't think so..." 

"Well...what about...if I..." 

"Don't," she interrupted. 

"You don't even know what I was going to say!" 

"Yes, I do," she shook her head. "And the answer is no!" 

"It wouldn't be emotional. Just a physical thing. A need!" 

"If I find out you fucked some other woman, we're done!" Megan raised her voice. "I'm taking the house, our daughter, everything! You made a vow!" 

"And so did you!" he angrily told her. "What happened to that shit?" 

She rolled her eyes. "I must have missed that vow. The one where I was supposed to be your personal sex toy..." 

The dad looked off to the side at their white bedroom wall, just as sexually frustrated as he'd been for close to twelve months. He had no idea what was the cause of Megan's issues. It really didn't make sense. He was so much better looking than most guys in their forties. He still had a full head of brown hair, a defined face, and he possessed the body of a twenty-five-year-old gym rat. Greg had gotten into working out and eating healthy big time over the years and the results showed in spades. He received so much attention from married and single women alike, yet never broke his marriage commitment a single time. And his wife wasn't exactly a ten anymore. She had let herself go physically over the years and looked like a shell of her twenty year old self. But he still loved her. Why? He wasn't completely sure. She wasn't very nice these days, had zero spontaneity, and her sex drive was null. He had tried all kinds of different things. Helping her out around the house more, not helping her out at all, trying to change her diet, paying more attention to her needs, completely ignoring her needs...he gave everything a shot, but nothing worked. Megan always seemed more happy to just read her Kindle than to spend time with him. And he wasn't some asshole who just wanted to cum and be done with her. He missed the fun they used to have together, but all that was a distant memory. 

Megan picked up her tablet. 

"Give me that fuckin' thing!" Greg demanded as he reached out and yanked it away from her. He placed it to the side of him, away from his wife, and leaned over to plant a kiss on her lips. 

She immediately pulled back. 

He leaned in a second time and found her left breast with his hand as he tried kiss her again. 

"Stop!" she loudly protested before pushing him away. 

Greg obliged her request and placed his head in his hands. "Please." 

"What?" Megan asked. 

"Please," he repeated. It took twelve months. Twelve long, grueling, excruciating months...but he finally broke down. He was begging. 

Megan looked at him with an annoyed expression. "Fine!" she huffed. 

His head shot up. "Fine!?" 

"Yeah, fine," she repeated. "I'll give you a handjob." 

His face immediately dropped. "A handjob?" 

"That's what I said," she told him with an attitude. "A handjob." 

"No...no, no, no," he whined. "Sex...let's have sex!" 

She replied with several shakes of her head. "I don't want to." 

He aggressively rolled over, turned off his light, and attempted to go to sleep. 

"Really?" Megan laughed. "Don't complain I never offer then." 

A handjob was an offer for sex? Bullshit. He was more than capable of rubbing his own dick. In fact, he had become quite the expert at it over the past year. He had no clue what to do. Cheat? It was becoming a more realistic possibility with each passing day, but he hated the idea of their daughter Mia being involved in the fallout. Maybe this was his life from now on. No more sex, no more love, and a whole lot of jerking off. 

Fifteen feet away, Mia was standing in the hallway with her ear pressed against her parent's door. 

Chapter 2 – Red. 

Greg's vivid dreams were becoming recurring events. There weren't any fantasies of banging supermodels on Caribbean beaches or touring the country in a rock band and hooking up with a different girl every night. His dreams weren't far-fetched. Actually, they was quite realistic. Greg was consistently dreaming about the girl he dated before Megan. He was dreaming about Kathy. 

The dad was quite the player back in his time. Player, manwhore, whatever you wanted to call him really. Up until the age of twenty-one, Greg's sole mission was the fuck as many women as possible. Bars, clubs, he was everywhere. Despite just being in average physical shape at the time, he had been blessed with two things. One, was he had a natural charisma about him. He was capable of sitting at a table of complete strangers, and have them all vying for his attention within minutes. And it wasn't just with women. Men naturally gravitated towards him too. It was strange and something he learned to use to his advantage. He quickly found how attractive this was to women. How their interest immediately peeked after seeing him as the life of the party. It was like they wanted to know what was so interesting and attractive in him that caused so many people to seek his approval. His other blessing was his ability in bed. He was great. And he should've been. After all, he did get enough practice. Girls would tell their friends, those friends would seek him out, and Greg would have an entire new line of women ready to go. How he ever made it out of the 90's without an STD or a lovechild was truly astonishing. 

Yep, he was going to be living the bachelor lifestyle until the day he died. No wife, no kids, no commitments. It was just the way he liked it. But when he turned twenty-one, he met Kathy. Well, he rarely called her Kathy. He called her Red. Why? It wasn't exactly creative. Kathy had long, curly red hair and a red landing strip to match. He met Red the same way he met the majority of his hook-ups. At a bar. But she was different. Sure, they fucked in his apartment an hour after meeting each other, but Greg immediately fell for her. It was her energy. It was constant. He never saw Red in a bad mood. While on her period, struggling with something at work, listening to her mother curse her out on the phone...she always had a smile on her face. And that positivity was met by an even more overwhelming sexual energy. Greg had no idea women like Red existed until they started dating. It was more rare to not receive road head while driving than it was to get it. His alarm clock was replaced by her mouth which almost always woke him up with a blowjob. Waiting for dinner to finish cooking in the oven? No problem. Just bend her over the kitchen counter and pass the time with some fun. She was insatiable sexually. And everything in his life was perfect because of it. 

Until he met Megan. 

Megan was probably the cutest woman he had ever laid his eyes on. The brunette was twenty years old when he bumped into her at the grocery store. It was her eyes that wrapped a stranglehold around his attention. They were green. A deep green. Her face was one thing but her body was something else. She was a tiny, little thing, barely over five feet tall and extremely petite. At six foot two, he towered over the vibrant, friendly bundle of cuteness who was looking for the perfect watermelon in the fruit aisle. He asked her for advice on how to pick the best fruit, they hit it off, and the next day he met Megan for coffee. That was when she really stood out to him. That was when he knew things with Red were over. 

She made him wait. 

They didn't bang the next night and they didn't hook-up the following week. Megan made him wait five months before they had sex. 

Greg knew he found the one. She was the only girl who had ever made him wait and he happily waited right along with her. There was no interest in cheating and no pressuring her into sex or blowjobs. He was content with waiting because he knew he loved her. Four months after their first night being intimate together they were married, and eleven months later the greatest moment of his life occurred. It took place on an ungodly muggy day in August when he held his little baby girl for the first time. Five pounds and two ounces but her size wasn't what caught everyone's attention. It was her eyes. They looked just like her mothers'. Just like Megan's. Just like the woman he used to be head over heels in love with. Just like the woman he shared special moments and made memories he would never forget with. Just like the woman who was now disgusted by the idea of kissing him. 

That was the woman he was married to. The woman he was committed to. The woman he shared a bed with every night. 

He softly turned his head as the dream of Red continued. He was forty-one and living in the same house, except he wasn't married to Megan. He was married to Red. And Red was in a familiar position on this Tuesday morning. She was lying on the bed in front of him, waking him up with a morning blowjob. And once she finished, he was going to flip her over and go to town on her. She would still have that little landing strip that drove him crazy and the look she always gave him when hit her spot would be the same. It was a grin with her eyes. God, he missed that woman. 

His eyes slowly opened as he looked to the right. His wife was already out of bed. That wasn't a surprise. She drove their daughter to school every morning and they left about an hour before he did for work. But something felt different today. Something felt better. His eyes drifted towards the end of the bed... 

He immediately shut them. 

What the hell kind of dream is this you dirty, old pervert!? Dreaming about Red is one thing, but dreaming about this is something completely different! Now open your eyes and never allow that to slip into your mind again! 

He opened his eyes, but what he thought was a dream was in fact a reality. He rapidly blinked three times in hope this visual would eventually go away. 

But it didn't. 

His daughter had woken him up with a blowjob. 

He panicked. 

"Mia!" the dad shouted before scrambling back against the bed headboard, pulling sheets and blankets with him in an attempt to cover-up. "What...what...what the fuck!?" 

She didn't respond. Instead the five foot two, hundred pound brunette with deep green eyes and light freckles along her upper cheeks and nose began to crawl towards him. She looked so much like a younger version of his wife he sometimes had to do a double take. Well, not now. Even back in her heyday, Megan would never be doing something like this. 

The teen began to grab and yank at the sheets with a devilish smile. 


She stopped. 

"Where's your mother!?" 

"In the shower," she smiled. "We have time..." 

"Time? Time! Time for fuckin' what!? Get out of here! Now!!" 

"But, Daddy..." she whined. 

Greg responded with a stern look. "Don't pull that Daddy shit with me! What the fuck do you think you're doing!?" 

Mia took a deep breath. "Ok...don't get mad..." 

That was going to be hard. 

"...but..." she quietly said while looking off to the side, "I might have kinda eavesdropped on you and Mom last night." 

"You...you...you eavesdropped?" Greg asked. 

Mia nodded her head. 

"On...on how much?" he asked. 

She thought for a moment. "Umm...probably...like...all of it." 

"So you heard?" Greg groaned, not wanting to finish his thought. 

She nodded again. "And I totally want to help you out!" 

"Oh my God, Mia," the dad groaned again. 

"If Mom isn't up for taking care of you, I am! I would love to!" she smiled. 

"You need to get out of here immediately," he told her, trying not to lose his composure. "If your mother sees you in here, she's going to kill me." 


"I'm serious, Mia. She's literally going to kill me," he repeated. "This...this never happened. Understand?" 

"Just let me finish," she softly smiled. "I mean, six months? You haven't gotten a blowjob in six months!?" 

He closed his eyes before opening them, once again trying to somehow wake up from this nightmare he was currently experiencing. 


His daughter huffed before hopping off the bed and walking out of the room. She was wearing a pair of ripped designer jeans and a long sleeve black top. Apparently she decided to stop off in his bedroom after getting dressed for school. 

He was going to wait it out in his room. It was 7:07AM. They always left by 7:15. Eight minutes. But maybe he shouldn't. Maybe he should go talk to her before she sat in the car with her mother. Megan worked at her father's plant nursery and always dropped Mia off at school before she went to work. He had no idea what they talked about on that ride. Shit! He had to get to her first! 

Greg jumped out of bed, threw on a pair of sweatpants and an old sleeveless shirt, tucked his still rock hard cock into the waistband of his sweats, and rushed into the kitchen. There Mia was sitting at the table, eating a bowl of cereal like it was any other morning. He quickly took a seat in the chair across from her. 

"What the fuck was that about!?" 

She gave him a confused look as she continued to munch on her breakfast. 

He raised his eyebrows. 

"I was trying to help," she finally answered. 

"Do you think that's appropriate?" he whispered, concerned his wife was going to barge into the room at any moment. 

"I'm just trying to take care of you, Dad," she said before raising another spoonful of Cheerios to her mouth. 

Greg stood up and looked at his daughter. "You know what? We're going to redo this morning!" 

"Redo?" she asked. 

"Yep," he said. "This morning never happened. I'm going to walk out of the kitchen, turn around, and come back in. And that's going to be the first time we see each other today!" 

"But, Dad..." 

"Nope!" he told her before walking out of the room before reemerging seconds later. "Hey, honey!" he loudly greeted her with a big smile. "How'd you sleep last night?" 

Mia watched her dad pour himself a bowl of cereal before joining her at the table. 

"Cat got your tongue?" he laughed before looking towards the window. "Looks like it's finally warming up outside!" 


"Ohhhhh man," he let out a loud yawn. "Just woke up!" 


Greg lifted a spoonful of cereal to his lips before looking at his daughter. "Anything going on at school today?" 

"Dad!" she loudly shouted. "I want to help you out!" 

"With what?" he asked with a smile. "There's nothing I need help with! Ah man, what a beautiful day outside! I might leave early today and drive the long way to work. Get a nice view of the snow melting on the mountains..." 

"Let me suck your dick!" 

Greg almost choked on his breakfast. After several attempts, he finally managed to get it down. "Never say that again!" 

"But I want to..." she whined with the same promiscuous grin for earlier on her face. "Can I tell you something?" 

The dad didn't answer. He was fairly certain she was going to tell him regardless of what he responded with. 

"Your dick is big," she smirked. "Like, really big." 

He dropped his head into his left hand as he closed his eyes. This couldn't really be happening. 

"Hey, Mia!" 

Greg's head shot up at the sound of his wife's voice. Megan had just walked into the kitchen, all ready for work. 

"Greg?" she asked with a surprised look. "What are you doing up already?" 

"Couldn't sleep," he responded. 

"We weren't too loud, were we?" his wife continued. "I hope one of us didn't wake you up." 

"No! I mean...no. Neither of you two woke me up." 

Megan tilted her head with a slightly confused expression. 

Mia smirked. 

"Ok..." the mom curiously said. "Well, you ready, Mia?" 

"All set, Mom," the brunette teen responded before standing up and walking over to place her bowl inside the dishwasher. 

Greg watched his daughter follow his wife towards the door, finally allowing him time to regroup and collect himself. But Mia suddenly stopped. She had a big grin on her face as she slowly walked over to her dad's chair. "Have a good day at work," she announced in a voice audible to her mother. She then leaned in closer and whispered into his ear, "Daddy..." before planting a big kiss on his cheek. 

"Let's go, Mia!" Megan shouted from the door. "We're gonna be late!" 

The dad finally heard the door shut. He immediately shot out of his seat and scrambled towards his laptop in the living room. 

"Fuck...fuck! Fuckin' cocksucker!" he yelled as he continued to type in the wrong password. His hands were shaking so bad he couldn't hit the right keys. He finally managed to type in the appropriate letters before navigating to his favorite porn site which he had become all too familiar with over the past year. 

He went to the search bar and began to type. 



There's no going back from this. You do realize this, don't you? You're officially a pervert if you type that in. Really think about it... 




Maybe having an affair with someone at the gym or a dating site isn't a bad idea after all. Hey...hey! Listen to me! Stop typing!! 







He moved his cursor to the search bar. 

Good decision, fucko. Delete that shit and jerk-off to some amateur porn like a normal person. Look! There's even a blowjob scene right on the front page! It's like they want you to watch it! Click it! Click it!! 

Greg moved the cursor to the second 'D' and added a 'D' and a 'Y' after it. 

He sat back and looked at the search bar. 


He hit enter. 

1709 results...1709! What the hell? Maybe he wasn't alone. 

No...no. He couldn't do this. He closed his browser, shut down the computer, and headed towards the shower. He was going to take the long way to work today. 

Chapter 3 – Older Men. 

It was sixth period and Mia couldn't focus at all. The only thing that had been on her mind all day was her dad. The pain and discomfort he must have been in. Six months without a blowjob and a year without sex. For a man! A forty-one-year-old man! That was crazy to her. And why in the world wasn't her mom taking care of him? Her dad was hot! Really hot! Her friends had no problem reminding her of that. He was good-looking, in great shape, and was hilarious and awesome to be around. What else could a woman want? Her mother must have loved him at some point. They were married after all. And Mia couldn't remember one instance of her dad being upset with her mother either. How that was possible she really didn't know. Twelve months without sex...God, that must have been unbearable for him. 

The eighteen-year-old brunette was fairly inexperienced sexually. She had recently broken up with Tom who was just her second boyfriend. Sure, she went to parties like other high school girls, but unlike her peers, she didn't hook-up with random guys. The idea of that grossed her out. Just because some guy was hot, she was supposed to let him stick his dick in her mouth? No way! And her one friend Kate even told her she always swallowed. She swallowed random guys! That was insane! She had never even swallowed either of her boyfriends after they came. Swallowing was intimate. It should be reserved for someone you truly love. And that was Mia's dilemma on this Tuesday afternoon. She was the good girl. She always had been. She didn't ask guys out. They approached her. So she was fairly clueless in the art of seduction. But she knew someone who wasn't. 

"Hey, Samantha." 

Samantha closed her locker and her face immediately lit up. "Hey, Trips!" 

Mia laughed as she looked at her classmate. The nickname, 'trips' had been given to her after she recorded the first triple-double in the history of their school's varsity girls basketball team. Ten points, twelve assists, and eleven steals. There was no way she was getting ten rebounds. Rebounds were reserved for Samantha. After all, she was a foot taller than the petite brunette. Sammy, as she usually went by, was six foot two and had legs that went on for days. She had earned a fairly promiscuous reputation over the years and Mia had always allowed that to influence her opinion when it came to her rather tall teammate. It was an unfair judgment and one she eventually came to regret during a long bus ride to a playoff game during their junior year. While everyone on the team was listening to music, Sammy was reading a book. The Master and Margarita. It was a story about the devil visiting twentieth century Moscow. It was an entirely different side of Sammy from the one she thought she knew. That led to a long discussion about their favorite books, which led to the realization they both possessed a large collection of paperback novels, which led to weekly swaps and constant recommendations. It was the polar opposite of every discussion she had ever had with her peers. The rest of her teammates talked about reality television and fashion. They talked about classic novels, life, and their mutual interest in traveling and nature. It was strange though. The two teammates rarely hung out together. They each had separate groups of friends who they chose to spend their time with. It was almost like both girls knew what they had was special, and decided not to overexpose themselves to one another. Sometimes the best things in life come in small doses. But Mia wasn't looking for advice on literature today. She was looking for advice on men. 

"You have open this period, right?" Mia asked. 

"Sure do," Samantha smiled. 

"Can we talk for a minute?" Mia asked again. 

"For sure," Samantha answered. She recognized a worried look on her classmate's face. "Is something wrong?" 

Mia shook her head. "No, but can we talk in private?" 

Samantha closed her locker and followed the brunette outside. Their school had a special policy for seniors which allowed them to leave campus on their study hall periods. These were referred to as, "open periods." And Mia was going to use her open period to get some much needed advice from her more experienced friend. They walked towards the parking lot together but veered right and slowly began to make their way down the path which led to the soccer fields. 

"So what's up?" Samantha asked. 

"Have you," Mia cleared her throat. She wanted to get right to the point. "Have you ever been with an older man?" 

Samantha smiled. "Like, a college guy?" 

"Umm...not exactly," Mia answered. "Older than that..." 


Mia shook her head. "What's the oldest guy you've been with?" 


The little brunette stopped walking and stared at her friend. "Forty...forty-six!?" 

"Yeah," the tall blonde laughed. "Forty-six." 

"How did that happen!?" Mia asked. 

Samantha took a deep breath as they resumed walking. "You know, I just kinda got fed up with guys our age a few months ago. Like, it's constant nonsense with them. I'm not trying to sound like some kind of elitist snob or anything, but they're all so stupid." 

Mia laughed. 

"I'm serious," Samantha continued. "Ok, so when I dated Mike last year, guess what he wanted to do every day?" 

"Hang out?" Mia answered. 

"Exactly," Samantha rolled her eyes. "And you know what that means. Listen, I love sex. I love pleasing. But I can't stand when people only look at me for my body. I have a brain too. And chances are it's bigger than the guys' I'm with!" 

Mia laughed again. 

"Mike's dream day consisted of me making him food, giving him head before we had sex, and then sitting around and watching him play Call of Duty for who the hell knows how long. I mean, seriously?" 

The short brunette was all too familiar with that routine. It sounded a lot like her ex-boyfriend Tom's ideal evening together. 

"I want to discuss your thoughts on life, the places you want to go and explore, the novels you've read, and the things you've created. You should know what I'm talking about better than anyone, Mia! You're a writer!" 

Mia was by no means a writer. But she had dipped her toe into the world of fiction a few years ago by attempting to write a short story. It was a tale about a young man who took over custody of his godson after his sister and brother-in-law were killed in a car accident. Things begin to unravel once the man realizes the child is evil. She liked how it turned out so she kept writing. After months of debating, she recently caved and asked Sammy to read some of her stuff and provide feedback. Only two people in the world knew Mia was a writer. Her father and Samantha. And despite her dad's constant attempts to convince her to let him read her work, she refused. Sure, he would tell her it was great, but he might not actually like it. And the idea of her dad not liking something she did was devastating to her. So devastating she decided to not take the risk at all. 

"And you get a deeper connection with older men?" Mia asked. 

Samantha nodded. "Absolutely." 

"So how did you meet this guy?" 

"On a dating site," Samantha answered. "I listed my wanted age range from twenty-eight to forty, but he messaged me anyway. I'm always skeptical anytime a guy pretends to be interested in me. I've been on to men's bullshit for far too long. Sure, they pretend to care about what I'm saying, but most of them just want their dick in my mouth." 

Mia chuckled. 

"But this guy seemed genuine," Samantha continued. "So we agreed to meet up at the park one day. I'm sitting on the bench waiting and this older guy suddenly sits next to me. He's short, thin, balding, and he didn't look as good as his pictures. Not that he necessary looked good in them to begin with. I would guess he used photos from about a decade ago." 

"And then what?" 

"We talked," Samantha told her. "For two hours." 

Mia raised her eyebrows. "Two hours?" 

"Yeah," Samantha smiled, "and it just flew by. He wasn't some world traveler or anything but he'd been around, opened a few businesses, had some crazy experiences, and just had so much more to offer than guys our age. You know, real life stuff. He's lived it. His experiences aren't based on movies and TV shows. They're based on life. That's sexy to me." 

The brunette continued to listen to her much taller friend talk as they looped around the soccer field on the concrete path. 

"And we had real discussions about things. Deep things. Novels, politics, the universe...I couldn't imagine discussing any of that stuff with guys in our grade." 

"So you guys just talked and then went your separate ways?" Mia asked. 

"Not exactly," Samantha answered. "I ended up asking him about his wife towards the end of our conversation. I couldn't help but keep looking at the wedding ring on his finger." 

"This guy was married?" 

"Yeah," the blonde continued. "He never mentioned it in his dating profile but I kind of assumed he was. He eventually told me he was stuck in a loveless marriage. That his wife was basically a roommate and she couldn't stand the sight of him." 

"Oh my God..." Mia groaned. 

"I know, right?" Samantha said. "How horrible is that?" 

Mia wasn't groaning over this unknown older man's situation. She was groaning over how similar it sounded to her own father's ordeal. 

"Were they not having sex?" Mia asked. 

Samantha stopped on the path and looked into her friend's green eyes. "You're not going to believe this one." 

"Believe what?" 

Samantha shook her head before opening her mouth. "He hadn't had sex in eight years..." 

Mia's jaw dropped. 

"The last time was on his thirty-eighth birthday. He's forty-six now. Forty-six! Isn't that insane?" 

Mia looked at her friend. "Why did they stop?" 

"He told me one day his wife just lost interest in him. That the sight of him seemed to repel her." 

The brunette's stomach was churning. This sounded exactly like what was happening in her house. Except her dad was only in year one. 

"And he told me he had never cheated," Samantha continued as they started down the path once again. "And I believed him. But who knows? Maybe this is his thing. Maybe he meets up with younger girls and tells them this sob story in an attempt for sympathy or something? It's obviously a possibility. But I honestly believed him. I don't know if that makes me naive or what, but he seemed so genuine to me." 

"How did it end?" 

Samantha took a deep breath. "We both walked to our cars and waved goodbye to each other. But something just didn't feel right. I felt too strong of a connection to him somehow. So before he drove away, I went up to his passenger side door and knocked on the window." 

Before Mia could open her mouth, her friend was already continuing. 

"I got in his car, yanked his pants down, and gave him the best blowjob I've ever given anyone." 

Mia was completely stunned. 

"I know..." Samantha groaned. "But he deserved it! I mean, eight years! This amazing, interesting, charming man hadn't had sex in eight freakin' years! I just wanted to show him that someone appreciates him! That someone appreciates him for who he is! And we meet in the park once a week. Sometimes things get busy and one of us has to cancel, but I really make it a priority to spend time with him." 

"And you...you give him a blowjob every time?" 

Samantha shook her head. "No. I usually don't. We just talk. He's never pressured me into anything sexual, never asked for anything...we just enjoy spending time with each other. And when I really want to thank him for being special in my life, I give him something I know his wife isn't." 

The two girls arrived back in front of the school. 

"This obviously stays between us," Samantha stated. 

"Totally," Mia answered. "That goes without saying." 


The girls looked towards the parking lot to see a small group of their classmates gathered around an SUV. "You wanna get something to eat!?" one of the girls shouted. 

"Sure!" Samantha yelled back before turning to Mia. "Wanna come with?" 

Mia shook her head with a smile. "I think I'll just stick around here." 

"Ok," Samantha smiled before giving her friend a hug. "Talk to ya later, Trips!" 

"See ya, Sammy!" Mia smiled back before watching her classmate walk towards the parking lot. She had a lot to think about. 

Chapter 4 – The Salad. 

Greg had a rough day at work. He managed the floor of a shipping warehouse and was usually the ideal boss. Easy going and always understanding. Except today. Today, Greg lost his shit at three different guys over fairly irrelevant things. He was just so worked up and frustrated about what had happened this morning. He made sure to apologize to his three workers before heading home. He had a game plan. Act like this morning never happened. If he was lucky, he could avoid his daughter for the majority of the day and let things fizzle out on their own. If not, he would pretend like that moment in his bed this morning was all a dream. 

He pulled into the driveway and walked through the kitchen entrance of their home, and of course, Mia was standing at the counter. 

"Hey, sweetheart," Greg smiled as he set his bag down on the floor. 

His daughter turned towards him with a smile of her own. "Hey, Dad! Want a salad?" 

"Umm," Greg debated as he approached the counter. "Chicken salad?" 

"Yep," Mia perkily replied. 

"Sure, I could go for that." 

Mia reached into the cupboard and pulled out another plate. She began chopping up lettuce to make her dad dinner. 

"Where's your mother?" 

"Taking a bath upstairs," she answered. 

He nodded as he reached for the tomatoes. 

"I can do it," Mia told him. 

"Ok," he responded before walking over to the kitchen table and taking a seat. "Good day at school?" 

"It was alright," she told him. "You weren't lying about the snow melting on the mountains either. We should go hiking this weekend!" 

"It's gonna be so wet. I think we gotta wait a few weeks until we can go, baby." 

"It's just mud, Dad," she teased him. 

"Yeah, mud on a mountain. Not exactly a good combination," he chuckled. 

She rolled her eyes. "That time of month for you?" 

"You really wanna go?" 

Mia nodded as she finished slicing up the tomatoes. "Sure do. I wasn't planning on my dad being such a wimp though." 

"Alright, tough guy," he laughed. "Saturday." 

"Awesome!" Mia smiled before carrying two plates to the kitchen table. "Here ya go." 

Greg looked at his daughter. "Aren't we missing something here?" 

She shook her head as she sat down across from him. 

"Mia," he raised his eyebrows,"I'm looking at a salad..." 

"That's perfect," she interrupted. 

"I'm looking at a salad," he started over, "that's rather dry." 


"Come on..." he grinned at her. He sat up and started towards the fridge. 

"Don't!" she protested. 

"Mia," he laughed, "a salad without dressing isn't a salad at all. It's just a bunch of lettuce." 

"I put chicken, tomatoes, and even a little cheese on it!" she argued. 

Greg opened the refrigerator door. "But there's no creamy goodness, sweetie." 

"Dad, you may as well eat a bowl of ice cream if you're going to pour ranch dressing on it. I made it healthy. You're going to ruin it!" 

He returned to the table with a bottle of ranch dressing in hand. "I'll go light..." 

Mia rolled her eyes. "I bet..." 

"Hey, your old man is in pretty good shape," he smirked at his daughter. "I don't think a little dressing is going to kill me." 

"What are the nutritional facts?" she asked. 

Greg turned the bottle over. "Let's see here...there are seventy-three calories in one tablespoon...all from fat." 

Mia's jaw dropped. "Seventy-three! And how many tablespoons do you plan on using?" 

"I don't know," the dad answered as he sat down at the table. "Two or three." 

"Two or three!?" she laughed. "I'm thinking more like twenty." 

"Please," Greg shook his head. He undid the top of the bottle and looked at his daughter. "Watch. I'll go nice and easy..." 

He slowly began to pour a small amount before pretending to fumble the bottle. It tipped over and dressing quickly drenched his previously healthy dinner. 


"Oh my God!" he sarcastically stated before finally turning the bottle right side up again. "I can't believe that happened!" 

Mia shook her head. "Look at it!" she pointed at his plate. "You can't even see any lettuce!" 

"Just the way I like it," the dad laughed much to the chagrin of his daughter. He raised his fork to her and smiled. "Bon appetit." 

The brunette rolled her eyes. "Yeah...eat up, Dad..." 

A few minutes went by with Mia just staring at her father. "God, that is so gross." 


She watched him stab his fork into the lettuce before lifting it into the air. Thick, creamy dressing poured from the leafy greens, down onto his plate. 

"That," she answered while pointing at his fork. 

"He slid it into his mouth and let out an exaggerated moan. "Mmmmmm..." 

"Please," she shook her head. 

He looked at his daughter. "You know, I'm pretty sure I could drink an entire bottle of ranch dressing." 

Mia raised her hand to her mouth. "Oh my God, I'm gonna be sick." 

"I'm serious," he told her. "It's delicious." 

"That is so gross," she groaned. 

"I think I could eat an entire jar of mayo too." 

Mia closed her eyes. "Dad, seriously! Stop! I'm gonna throw up!" 

Greg laughed. "Who do you think you're fooling? You inhale everything I make whenever I use the grill." 

"So?" she raised her eyebrows. "I like hot dogs. Sue me!" 

"And buns and ketchup and mustard," he teased her. "God, it's so unhealthy!" he said in his best impression of his daughter's voice. 

Mia smirked. "Ok. Whipped cream." 

"Whipped cream?" he asked. 

"Yeah," she smiled. "I could eat an entire container of whipped cream." 

"So could I!" he smiled back. "We should do it!" 

She shook her head with a chuckle. 

"I'm serious," the dad told her. "You and me. Two spoons and a container of whipped cream. We can have a real fat girls night!" 

"You know, now that I'm looking at it," Mia said, "that dressing does look pretty good." 

"There's plenty more in the fridge," he told her before digging his fork into a piece of chicken. 

"I only want a real little bit." 

Greg looked up at his daughter. "Ok...so just pour a little." 

Mia got out of her seat and picked up her plate with her right hand and her chair with her left. She brought everything over next to her dad and sat down just inches away from him. 

"Ok..." he looked at her, slightly confused. "You want some of mine?" 

She nodded her head. He responded by sliding his plate towards her. 

Mia softly shook her head and pointed at the fork her dad was holding in his hand. 

"What?" Greg asked. 

"Your fork," she smiled. "That's just the right amount." 

He looked at his fork. The only thing he saw was a light coat of smeared dressing from the mouthful of salad he had just ate. "You...you want my fork?" 

She nodded again. 

"Umm...o...ok..." he stammered before reaching it out towards her, handle first. 

The teen shook her head with a grin. "Feed it to me." 

"Feed...feed it to you?" he repeated. 

Mia nodded. 

The sooner he got this nonsense over with the better. His daughter seemed fully intent on playing games with him, so why not just entertain her? Play her silly games, act like it didn't bother him, and then move on with his day. It was simple.

He turned his fork around and stuck it out to her. She locked eyes with him and slowly wrapped her lips around the points of the eating utensil, sensually taking it deeper as she continued to gaze into his brown eyes. 

Greg had yet to turn away. Her green eyes had him in a trance. And when he finally broke from their spell, he was met by her pouty lips which were wrapped around his fork. It didn't look all that different from this morning. But she was finally sliding her mouth off of his fork. Finally! 

Hey, that wasn't hard. Look, you didn't overreact, you let her get it out of her system, and nothing happened. Congratulations! You're finally maturing at forty-one years of age! 

She stuck her tongue out and gave the fork one last lick. Greg's attention moved to the silver utensil. That wasn't a hint of white to be seen. It was completely spotless. It was over. He had survived. 

Or had he? 

He suddenly felt a hand on his knee. 


The hand slowly inched up the thigh of his jeans. 


It was now on his upper thigh, only a few inches from his bulge. 

"Mia! Stop!" 

His daughter's hand shot higher and squeezed his flaccid cock through the rough denim fabric. 

"WHAT DID I JUST SAY!?" he screamed. "FUCKIN' STOP!!" 

An unbelievable jolt of regret immediately rocketed through his body. He didn't firmly tell his daughter to stop. He didn't even shout at her. He screamed. He screamed at her unlike he had ever screamed at anyone before. And if his wife didn't take her baths with earbuds in and music playing, then she would be running into the kitchen to see what had happened. He didn't want to look at his daughter, but he knew he had to. It wasn't going to be a pretty sight. 

He moved his eyes to her face. 

She looked terrified. 

"Mia..." he softly started. 

His daughter was shaking. 

"Honey, I didn't mean to yell at you." 

Her shakes were joined by sniffles which were growing more and more rapid as the seconds ticked by. He hadn't seen this in a long time but he knew what was coming. And he hated it more than anything in the world. 

"Honey, please don't." 

He watched his daughter blink. A single tear fell from her right eye. 

"No...no, no, no, no!" he pleaded. 

She closed her eyes for a brief moment before reopening them. When she did, tears began streaming down her face and she began to loudly weep. 

"I...I...I..." the teen stammered as her shaking and sobbing made forming a coherent sentence impossible. 

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry," the dad repeated as he reached out placed his hand on her shoulder. "Please, honey...just don't cry." 

She lunged towards him, wrapping her arms around his body as she buried her face into his chest. Greg felt the wetness from her tears soak through his cotton shirt and touch his skin. 

"I just...I just wanted...wanted to help!" she wept into his body. 

"I know, honey," he told her. "And I'm so sorry for yelling at you." 

"I just..." she continued to whine and sob, "just wanted...to take care of you...and...and...I thought you would want it...because...because I'm special to you." 

"No, baby," he told her, "not like that." 

She pulled her face away from her dad's chest and looked up into his eyes. It was like she had just seen a ghost. "I'm...I'm...I'm not special to you?" 

"No, no, no, oh my God, no, I didn't mean it like that!" he told her as he reached out and pulled her back into his body. "You're the most special person in the world to me, honey! Just not in that way." 

Her sobbing was only growing in strength as he continued to hold his daughter. Much like those nights eighteen years ago when he couldn't figure out how to stop her crying, he felt just as helpless now. 

"Mia? Oh my God, what happened?" 

Greg looked up. As if this couldn't get any worse, Megan was now standing in the doorway, wearing a bathrobe and a towel around her hair. 

"Nothing," he immediately answered. 

"But, she's crying!" his wife said as began to rapidly approach them with an extremely concerned look on her face. "Baby, what's wrong?" 

Greg stood up with his daughter still wrapping herself around his body. "Umm...she uh...she cut her finger." 

"With what?" Megan asked, trying to look at her daughter's hand. "A knife?" 

Greg quickly escorted his little girl through the kitchen and towards the downstairs bathroom. "Yeah, I'm going to take care of it!" 

Megan was hot on their trail. 

Once they entered the bathroom, the dad immediately shut the door behind them and locked it. The sounds of the handle trying to turn swiftly followed. 

"Why is this locked?" 

"She wants privacy, honey," Greg told his wife through the wooden door. 

"Oh...ok. Do we need to take her to the emergency room?" 

"No," he answered. It's not that bad." 

"She doesn't need stitches or anything?" 

"No," he answered through the door once more. "No, it doesn't look that deep." 

There was a brief moment of silence before Megan spoke up again. "I have to get ready to go but if she's hurt, I'll stay home!" 

"No!" he shouted. "No...we got it. Just go get ready, honey!" 

Greg finally turned away from the door and towards the openness of the bathroom. There he was greeted by his five foot two inch tall daughter, stretched as far as she possibly could on her tippy toes. She reached up, grabbed two handfuls of his shirt, and pulled him down to her. 

Mia locked lips with her dad. 

Greg immediately broke it off. "No!" 

"What?" Megan yelled as she attempted to turn the locked handle again. "What's wrong?" 

"Nothing," Greg answered as he slowly began to take steps backwards. Every time he did, Mia matched him with a step forward. "I just spilled the peroxide is all." 

"You sure she doesn't need my help?" his wife asked again. 

The dad felt his back press up against the bathroom door. He was out of room. His daughter was closing in on him with a grin on her red, puffy face and her usual vivid green eyes still glassy from crying. It was over. He couldn't hold out any longer. He watched her drop to her knees in front of him and he didn't put up any resistance. It was time to admit he needed this. Before he knew it, his jeans and boxers were around his ankles and his dick was back in the forbidden place it was when he woke up this morning. He closed his eyes and rested his head back against the door. 

"Greg?" Megan yelled, "I asked if she needs my help." 

He let out a deep groan before trying to compose himself. He had no idea where his daughter learned how to do this, but it felt ten times better than anything his wife had ever done to him in their nineteen years of marriage. Her mouth was bobbing on the first few inches of his cock while her right hand was wrapped around his dick and simultaneously stroking it. Well, she was attempting to. Her tiny fingers didn't meet around his decent girth. He was fairly certain he had never been bigger or harder than he was at this very moment. And if that didn't already feel good enough, her left hand was cupping and playing with his balls. It was heaven. 

"No," Greg finally answered. "You're...you're definitely not needed in here, honey!" 

"Ok," Megan responded. "Let me know if you change your mind!" 

The dad pulled his cock out of his daughter's mouth, kicked off his pants, and walked to the other end of the bathroom. He turned the fan on to create some noise in case his wife was continuing to listen through the door. He then leaned against the wall, raised his index finger to Mia, gave her the "come hither" motion, and watched her crawl across the bathroom floor until his penis was back in that warm, wet, and surprisingly familiar spot of his daughter's. Her mouth. 

If blowjobs like these were everyday occurrences, he probably still wouldn't last all that long. It felt unbelievable. The pace, the technique, the ferocity...it was amazing. But this wasn't an everyday thing. He hadn't received head in six months. And he hadn't received head like this in over twenty years. He wasn't going to last too much longer. In fact, the dad could feel his balls began to tighten as a tingle shot through his rock hard dick. 

"I'm...I'm gonna cum." 

Mia didn't slow down. She didn't change her technique. She didn't hesitate. She just keep going at it. 

Greg could justify this entire ordeal as a blowjob of necessity. He needed a release. And his daughter was simply providing that release. It was nothing more than that. But a certain urge in him was growing. Five simple words and this experience would go from one of necessity, to one of pleasure. And that was a dangerous thing. That was crossing a line he wasn't sure there was any coming back from. He only had a few seconds left in him. It was now or never... 

"Let me see those eyes." 

Mia immediately looked up at him. 

Whoever those lucky high school boys were (and he sincerely hoped it was only a few. He would prefer it to be none but he wasn't naive) who had the pleasure of sharing the same view he was currently looking at, had a memory that would last them a lifetime. Someday they would most likely be married to a pudgy, moody woman who made it blatantly obvious just how much she hated their guts. And when they were jerking off for the seventh time that week, they could always think back to the time they had with Mia. The time they watched those pouty lips wrap around their cock while those piercing green eyes stared into their souls. No matter how much they accomplished or how many women they slept with, they had already experienced the pinnacle of their lives. And while Greg knew this had to be a one-time thing, part of him could get used to seeing this view every single day. 

He felt the first burst of cum rocket into his daughter's mouth. 

Mia could've slowed down. All guys love slow, sloppy, sensual blowjobs. And her dad hadn't received one in over six months! And who knows how long before that? He probably wanted to enjoy it. A nice, slow, fifteen minute blowjob would've been just the thing. But she couldn't do that. As much as she wanted to help him, selfishly, she needed to bring him to orgasm as soon as possible. Why? Because Mia was craving her dad's cum. 

She didn't like the taste of semen. In fact, it had always turned her off. Whenever she gave blowjobs in the past, a cup or a sink or something had to be around so she could spit it out. But this was different. Not the taste. She knew her dad would probably taste similar to her ex-boyfriend's. He wasn't going to shoot a pumpkin spice latte into her mouth or anything, but she wanted to swallow him. She felt herself craving it. And it wasn't even for him. She had no idea if swallowing was a turn-on for her father or not, and she honestly didn't care. This moment was going to be for her. And as she felt that first rope slam into the back of her throat, it only made her want it that much more. 

That had to have lasted twenty seconds. Greg had never experienced an orgasm like that. Blowjobs, sex, Megan, Kathy...anyone or anything. Nothing had made him feel that way before. It was just unbelievably powerful sensation after sensation exploding from the tip of his cock as those green eyes never strayed from him for even a second. His left hand found the sink and he was using it to prop himself up. He might've been on the floor right now without it. When he finally regrouped, he looked back down at his daughter who was still on her knees, staring up at him... 

...with her mouth shut. 

She took a deep gulp and then opened her mouth. 

It was empty. 

Greg raised his eyebrows. "Did you swallow that?" 

She nodded. 

"Holy shit..." he moaned. 

Mia leaned forward and attempted to take her dad's cock back inside her mouth but he quickly pulled it away after she briefly cleaned it off with her tongue. 

"Sensitive?" she smirked. 

"You have no idea..." he laughed. 

Reality was quickly setting in for the father. Megan was going to want to see their daughter's finger. He hurried to the other end of the bathroom and put his jeans back on. He then began scouring through the cabinets in an attempt to find a Band-Aid. 

"Top right," Mia told him. 

Greg opened the top right drawer and pulled out a box of Band-Aids before looking at his daughter. "Let me see your finger." 

Mia walked over to him and reached out with her left index finger. He tightly wrapped the adhesive bandage around her soft skin before looking into her eyes. "You can't let your mother see you without this for at least a few days." 

"I know, Dad," she said. "I'm not stupid." 

"I know you're not," he told her before tossing the medical package back into the drawer. "And this never happened." 

"What didn't?" 

Greg looked at her again. "This. This whole thing. It didn't happen and it can never happen again. It was wrong and I apologize for allowing it to take place." 

"But, Dad, I wanted to do it." 

"Come on, let's go," he told her, urgently changing the subject. "Your mom is going to want to see you before she leaves." 

When his daughter approached the bathroom door, Greg reached out and placed his hand on the white wooden frame. He leaned down and whispered into her ear, "thank you," before planting a kiss on her cheek. 

Mia smiled. 

Chapter 5 – The Deal. 

It was 7:35PM and Greg was sitting on the couch in the living room, watching a hockey game on the television. There was a euphoric, almost drug induced look on his face as he stared straight ahead. The level of relaxation and comfort he felt at this exact moment was a strange feeling. Very strange. It had been a long time since he felt this good. And it was all due to...no...no...he needed to forget about what had happened. He had to move on from the massive mistake he made in the bathroom two hours ago. 

"Hey, Dad!" 

Greg turned his head to see his daughter taking a seat on the other end of the couch. 

"Hey," he smiled. 

"They're down two already?" Mia asked as she looked at the score. 

Greg let out a loud exhale. "Yeah, they suck." Their city's professional hockey team was forty-five seconds into a power play, and had yet to attempt a shot on net. They were just passively passing the puck around with no sense of urgency. "Will someone shoot the goddamn puck?" he annoyingly asked no one in particular. 

Maybe he wasn't as relaxed as he thought. 

Mia turned and looked at her dad. "Where did Mom go by the way?" 

"She went to a concert with her friend," he answered as a defenceman finally fired a shot towards the net, only for it to be blocked and easily cleared down the ice. "These fuckin' bums..." 

"Dad, do you ever think about life?" 

"Life?" he curiously asked, turning his attention away from the TV and focusing on his daughter. "What about it?" 

"Like, what's the point of all this?" she specified. 

Greg slowly nodded his head. "Almost every day." 

"Every day?" 

"I think most people probably do," the dad continued. "I mean, it's really the only thing that actually matters, you know? Why we're here and what we're doing." 

"And what do you think?" the little brunette asked. 

"I have no idea," he answered. "No one does. Sure, lots of people will tell you what's the meaning of all this and what our true purpose is, but those people are full of shit. None of us know anything." 

Mia had meaningful conversations with her dad all the time, but they always ended up turning goofy and playful. They both liked to laugh and keep things funny. But on this surprisingly warm April night on the couch with her father, she wanted to see just how deep she could connect with him. If Sammy's perspective of older men really being able to provide a stronger understanding of issues she wanted to discuss was true or not. 

"So...so when we die," Mia looked at him, "what do you think happens?" 

Greg took a deep breath. "What do I think happens or what do I want to happen?" 

"What do you think happens?" Mia specified. 

"Nothing," the dad answered. 


"Yeah," he told her. "Nothing. You know that feeling when you get a really good night's sleep and you don't remember a thing?" 

Mia nodded. 

"Like that," he said. "Just darkness...and it's over. A permanent good night's sleep that you never wake-up from." 

"Well, what about your soul?" 

Greg shook his head. "I don't think we have souls, sweetheart. That's something a lot of people like to believe in, but there's no proof we actually have them. It's a religious thing." 

"So we die...and then it's over...and our entire lives are for nothing?" Mia asked. 

He shrugged his shoulders. "I know it sounds depressing when you say it out loud, but yeah, that's what I think. I mean, the impact you have while you're on this planet is the meaning of your life. The ways you influence people around you. That's the real impact you're creating." 

"Well," Mia said, "what do you want to happen?" 

"I would love for there to be some sort of afterlife. A place where we can all be together forever. I just have a hard time believing that exists. I want to, but I don't let my desires influence my rationale." 

"I believe there is," Mia smiled, "whether it be heaven or some kind of version of it. We can't just be here by chance. There has to be more than this. And the idea of spending eternity with the people you love just makes sense to me." 

"I hope you're right," Greg smiled back at her. "We have a lot of time left together regardless. I'm not going anywhere anytime soon." 

"You better not," the brunette laughed. 

The dad dramatically shook his head. "Nope! Not me! You're going to be stuck with your old man for a long, long time. You're gonna get married someday and give me a few grandkids, we're all going to get old together, and everything is going to be perfect!" 

Mia shot him a quick smile before looking away. She was doing her best to prevent herself from crying again. 

"So you believe in heaven?" Greg asked. 

Mia took a few moments to collect herself before looking back at her dad. "Maybe. I...I guess I do. I'm not sure I believe in it in the biblical sense though." 

"So can you get into heaven if you don't believe in God?" 

She debated with herself with a visibly strained look on her face. "I...I don't know." 

"That was always my issue with religion," he told her. "That you have to believe in this idea of God without a shred of proof, and if you don't, you go to hell for all of eternity. What kind of sense does that make? It's ridiculous!" 

"Let's say there is a heaven," Mia said. "Where would you go if you don't believe in God?" 

The dad thought for a second. "I'm not sure. The idea of burning in hell is comical to me. If it's real, that type of punishment should be reserved for truly awful people. And what about terrible people who find God before they die? They get into heaven but a good person who doesn't believe in God is locked out? I can't accept or believe in something where that's how it works. I know a lot of people who are religious, but they're absolute pieces of selfish, backstabbing shit. They're better than caring, selfless, kind people who aren't religious? Bullshit if you ask me. If heaven and hell are real, there has to be something in the middle for good people who don't believe in God." 

Greg couldn't help but laugh to himself. Listen to him talk about good and bad people after the shit he did two hours ago. 

"Well," Mia started, unsure of how she wanted to word her next question. "If you don't believe in God or any type of meaning to life, then what's the point of living for you?" 

"You," the dad immediately answered. 

"Me?" Mia asked. 

"Yeah," he nodded, "you. Listen, I was never depressed or anything like that, but you know what I was like in my younger days. We've talked about it. It just seemed pointless, you know? All I did was work to pay bills and then attempt to hook-up with as many women as I could. I mean, is that the point of life? To never have a real connection with anyone? To just kind of float through your days until you eventually die and someone finds you rotting two weeks later in your house all alone? I don't know..." 

Mia was attentively staring at her father. 

"...but then you came along," he continued, "and my life suddenly had meaning. It was more than just working hard to make money so I could provide for you. Sure, that was part of it, but only a fraction. It was coming home every day to this unbelievable person who couldn't wait to see me. It was watching you grow and develop this amazing, unique personality. It was having more than just a wonderful daughter...it was having a best friend." 

For the second time in the past two hours, Mia was in tears. She crawled across the couch and rested the side of her head on her father's lap as he slowly ran his fingers through her long, dark hair. 

"This is the last time you're crying for the foreseeable future...got it?" Greg joked. 

Mia wiped her eyes as she turned her head and looked up at it him. "Stop making me then!" she laughed. 

"When did this happen!?" 

She had no idea what her dad was referring to, but his eyes were aimed straight ahead. She turned her head in the direction he was looking at, but remained rested against her dad's body. Their hockey team was now leading three to two. 

"I gotta rewind this," he said as he picked up the remote and began to journey back through the hockey game he had missed. 

That was her dad alright. Capable of discussing life one second, and then concerned over the score of a hockey game the next. She didn't need proof but sought it out for some reason anyway. And their discussion only confirmed what she had already known for years. That her dad was the greatest person alive and deserved to be treated like a king. And if her mom wasn't up to the task, then Mia was more than happy to be his queen. 

"Oh yeah," Mia spoke up while her dad continued to rewind the game, "my one vent isn't working in my room." 

"Which one?" Greg asked as he finally found the spot where his team scored their first goal. 

"The one by my desk." 

"Not working? Like, no air is coming out?" he asked. 

"Yeah," she answered. "There's kind of a weird smell lofting from it too." 

"Oh, you gotta me fuckin' kidding me! Are you serious?" 

Mia sat up on the couch and nodded at her dad. "Yeah, I just noticed it earlier." 

Greg let out an annoyed huff before standing up and heading towards the stairs. His daughter jumped out of her seat and followed him. 

"This fuckin' house..." he muttered as he began ascending the steps. "It's always something. A smell? Like an animal?" 

"I have no idea," she replied, just a few steps behind him. 

"Maybe someone killed your mother and stuffed her in the vent." 

"Dad!" Mia yelled. 

He finally cleared the last step and turned down the hallway towards his daughter's room. He glanced back at her with a smile. "Just kidding..." 

As her father got closer to her bedroom door, she heard him mutter, "kinda," which caused her to laugh. 

Greg opened her door and sped to the vent closest to her desk. "This one?" 

"Yep," she answered. 

He knelt down in front of it and lowered his head. "I don't smell anything." 

"Wait...actually it's the one by my bed." 

He looked up as his daughter curiously. "By your bed?" 

"Yeah," she softly smiled. "I got 'em mixed up." 

"Ok..." he gave her a strange look before walking over to the other vent and kneeling again. "Huh...I don't smell anything in this one either." 

"You sure?" she asked while her dad continued to try to identify some kind of odor. 

"I'm gonna turn the heat on and see if this thing's working. I gotta grab a flashlight and a screwdriver anyway..." he told her as he stood up and turned towards her door. 

When he did, he was met by his daughter. For the second time in two hours, she grabbed two fistfuls of his shirt and pulled him down to her level before planting a big kiss on his lips. He immediately pushed her away. 

"No...fuck! Mia! Are you kidding me? Again!?" 

"Come on," she grinned. "Mom's not going to be home for a while!" 

The dad repeatedly shook his head. "No! Never! We just went over this. That can never happen again!" 

Her grin was growing wider. "When was the last time you got two blowjobs in one day?" 

Greg paused a moment to think. When was the last time that happened? Had Megan ever done that for him? Maybe once? And if she had, it definitely wasn't memorable. Kathy had for sure. Two blowjobs in one day was child's play for the fiery redhead. He could distinctly remember getting road head to and from the drive to her parent's house for Thanksgiving one year, and then two hours of crazy sex when they got back to his apartment. So that would have been at least three blowjobs. God, that woman was amazing. The things she used to do... 

Wait...why was he pondering her question? 

"It certainly isn't going to be today," he told her before heading towards her bedroom exit. 

His daughter ran in front of him and blocked his path. She seductively stared at him for what felt like an eternity before finally speaking up. "Please?" 

Greg laughed. "Are you out of your mind?" He gently pushed her to the side before continuing his journey to her now closed bedroom door. She must have shut it after they entered the room. 

As he reached out to turn the knob, Mia slid in between her dad and the door. 

"Move," he told her with an annoyed tone to his voice. 

She shook her head with a grin. 

The dad let out a soft chuckle. "What do you weigh? A hundred pounds?" 

"One hundred and two pounds," she playfully corrected him. 

"I could throw you across the room if I wanted to. So how about you get out of my way?" 

"Do it," she smirked. 

"Huh?" he asked. "Do what?" 

"Throw me across the room," she smiled. "You wanna get rough with me?" 

"Mia, cut it out with this shit." 

She bit her lower lip before locking her greens eyes onto her dad's masculine face once again. "Maybe I need to be slapped around a little bit." 

He responded by dropping his head into his hands. "Why do you keep doing this?" 

"I've been a very bad girl, Daddy," she innocently giggled. "Maybe I need to be punished?" 

Greg's head perked up. "Yes! Yes you do!" 

"I do!?" Mia asked with a shocked expression. 

"You do!" the dad repeated. "And I know just the thing!" 

"What is it!?" she excitedly asked. 

"Mia," he leaned down and smiled at his daughter. "You're grounded." 

Her face immediately dropped. "I'm what?" 

"Grounded," he repeated with a laugh. "Punishing you is a brilliant idea. That's the perfect way to put an end to all of this nonsense. To ground you!" 

"That's not what I meant though!" she told him. 

"Too bad!" Greg laughed. "Hmmmm...now what to take away from you..." he debated aloud with himself. 

"No, no, no, Dad, this isn't what I meant!" 

He peered his eyes at his daughter with a big smirk. "I got it! For one week..." 

Mia nervously waited with her back still pressed against her bedroom door. 

"...I'm going to keep..." 

Greg was loving every second of turning the tables on her. 

"...your cellphone!" 

"No!!" she shouted. "No, no, no, I need that!" 

The dad's laugh was only growing louder. "I didn't have a phone when I was your age. You can get a little taste of what it was like to be eighteen years old in 1994. You know, back when the dinosaurs roamed the earth!" 

"But what about emergencies or if the car I'm driving breaks down or something?" she asked with a still distraught voice. 

"Luckily for you," he grinned, "everyone else has a phone! So I'm sure you could borrow someones'!" 

"But what if I'm on a back road and the car breaks down?" she asked, digging deep for a reason to be able to keep her phone. "And no one's around?" 

Greg pointed his index finger at his daughter. "You can have my old flip phone." 

"Dad!" she shouted. "This isn't fair!" 

"That's life, kiddo," he smiled. "Now give me your phone." 

She looked up at him. "Let's compromise!" 

"Compromise?" he laughed. "This is my house, sister. What we just did is called a compromise. I tell you how it's going to be, and you deal with it." 

"For one week," she said while raising her index finger into the air, "I'll be your slave." 

"Phone," he demanded with his hand out. 

"No, no, no, just hear me out!" she pleaded. "It doesn't have to be anything sexual. Like, tomorrow for instance. Let's say you come home and you're craving a turkey BLT. All you have to say is, 'Mia, go make me a turkey BLT.' And guess what?" 

"You'll make me a turkey BLT?" he asked. 

"I will make you a turkey BLT," she repeated with a smile. " 'Hey, Mia, the garbage needs to go out'." 

"And you'll take the garbage out?" 

"You got it!" she declared. 

He knew what she was doing. His daughter was banking on the idea he wouldn't be able to control himself. That having anything he wanted sexually at his fingertips for a week would cause him to snap and eventually cave to her. But this girl didn't seem to realize just how sexually deprived he had been for the past year. And he had functioned fairly well throughout that stretch. A week was going to be a cakewalk. 

He reached his hand out. She followed suit and the two shook on the deal. 

"Demand number one," he told his daughter while looking at her. "Get out of my way." 

Mia stepped aside to allow her dad to leave her bedroom. 

Greg opened the door and paused before looking back at her. "Did you make up all that shit about the vents?" 

She nodded. 

"There's no smell?" 

She shook her head. 

He let out a soft laugh. "Goodnight, sweetheart." 

"Goodnight, Dad!" she replied with a smile before watching the door close behind him. 

There was no way her dad was going to be able to last an entire week without things turning sexual. A blowjob? Maybe even sex!? And as bizarre as it may sound, Mia really wanted to make out with him. Seven whole days of having her at his disposal would be impossible to resist. Not only was she able to keep her phone, but she was able to get everything she wanted at the same time. She knew what was best for her father, and she was going to give it to him whether he would admit to wanting it or not. There was no way he would last more than three days. She was positive of that. 

Chapter 5 – Day 6. 

Monday. 2:02PM. 

Mia's plan had backfired. Big time. Laundry, vacuuming, sweeping, dusting, cooking for her father...it was every day. Every single day. And guess how much sexual contact they had? None! How was that possible? She gave him an amazing blowjob in the bathroom six days ago, so how could he not want that again? She was willing to do anything for him. Any kink, anything he wouldn't dare to ask her mom for...anything at all! But all he had her do was clean and cook his meals. It just didn't make sense. 

The brunette teen unlocked the front door of her house on this beautiful day in late April. Her mother didn't get home until 4PM and her dad usually not until 5:30PM. So she had her typical two hours to herself. And the one upside today was she hadn't received a text from her dad with a list of chores or demands. Maybe he cut their slave agreement short. Maybe he was giving her a break. 

When she walked into the kitchen, a note on the counter captured her attention. Mia's heart skipped a beat. Last night she had a dream which was now giving her a spooky feeling. In her dream, she walked into the kitchen and saw a note on the counter. She slowly approached it, dreading a list of chores and undesirable tasks. But when she read it, her jaw dropped. 


Your mom's not going to be home until late tonight. I'm leaving work early. I'll be home at 4. I want you in your room waiting for me...dressed like a naughty schoolgirl. Daddy's in the mood to teach his little angel a lesson. 

Don't be late! 

Love, Dad. 

P.S. - Make sure you throw this note away. 

The note had been left on yellow legal paper. In the history of their household leaving notes for one another (and a lot of notes had been left), she had never seen yellow paper. It was always white. But back in reality, what was the color of the paper she was looking at on the kitchen counter? Yellow. 

She ran over to the granite countertop to see if her dream had come true. 

It hadn't. 


Super windy last night. TONS of branches all over the backyard. I was planning on dragging them out to the road when I got home from work, but then I remembered...I have you lol! 

Make sure you wear gloves and a pair of old, crappy sneakers. It's awfully muddy out there. But you'll find that out pretty soon! 

Love ya, honey! 

- Dad 

P.S. - I bet you wish you gave me your cellphone now! 


Greg pulled into the driveway at 5:37PM to one of the most beautiful sights he had ever seen. A long, deep pile of branches stacked across their front yard out by the road. That must have taken hours. And when he looked to his right, he was treated to the visual of his muddy daughter pulling what had to be the last of the mess towards the street on a blue tarp. He made sure to roll down his window and give her a nice, exaggerated wave. 

She responded with the middle finger. Greg laughed all the way into the house. 

"Hey, honey," he said to his wife as he continued to laugh. 

Megan was sitting at the kitchen table, looking through the weekly sales ads with a pair of scissors lying next to her. "Hey," she responded, never looking up. 

Greg looked through the window at the backyard. It was spotless. "I can't believe she cleared the entire yard." 

Megan finally decided to look up. "Yeah, why is Mia doing that?" 

"Because I asked her," he responded while pouring himself a glass of water. 

"You just asked?" his wife questioned him. "Really?" 

"We raised a helpful girl," he chuckled. 

Megan shook her head before focusing down at the ads. She quickly looked back up. "Oh yeah, my sister's having dinner at her house tonight. 6:30." 

"I'll pass." 

She raised her eyebrows. "Why?" 

"Because I don't want to go," he answered. 

"Fine," she rolled her eyes before looking back down. 

"Is she making cheesecake?" 

His wife shrugged her shoulders. "I don't know. Probably." 

"Can you bring me home a piece if she does?" 

"Why don't you just come?" Megan asked. "Then you can get one for sure." 

"I'm tired..." Greg whined. "Can't you just grab me one?" 

Megan huffed. "I can try. You know it usually goes pretty fast though." 

"Just ask your sister to set a piece aside for me. She'll do it." 

"Fine," Megan told him in an annoyed voice. 

"Awesome. Thanks, honey!" Greg smiled. 

There wasn't a response. 

The kitchen door opened. 

"Hey!" Greg greeted his daughter with a big grin. 

Mia kicked off her muddy sneakers before glaring at her dad. "I started at 2:30." 

He checked his phone. It was 5:41. "Three hours," he laughed. "Not bad!" 

She stomped across the kitchen floor and went right up to him, snatched the glass of water out of his hand, and chugged it down. 

"Help yourself," he laughed. 

"Thanks for doing all of that, baby," Megan told her daughter. 

"No problem, Mom," Mia answered, continuing to glare at her dad. "This is real funny, isn't it?" she whispered to her father who had been giggling like a little kid from the moment she stepped into the house. 

"Hilarious," he snickered. 

Mia roughly handed his glass back, empty, before peering her eyes at him. "I'm gonna get you back for this." 

"Oh, are you?" he laughed. 

"What are you two talking about?" Megan asked as she picked up a pair of scissors and began cutting a coupon out of the paper. 

"Nothing, Mom," Mia responded, continuing to stare into her dad's eyes. "You're dead," she whispered. 

Greg kept on laughing. 

"Mia," Megan looked up. "Your aunt's having dinner at her house. 6:30." 

The teen shook her head. "I'm not going." 

"Why?" Megan asked. 

"I just want to take a bath and lie down," she answered. "My feet are killing me." 

"Alright..." the mom huffed before turning her attention back to the sales paper. 

Mia walked behind her mom while continuing to glare at her father. She gave him the middle finger again. 

He responded by slapping his right bicep with his left hand while bending his arm up, better known as the 'Bras d'honneur.' Or an Italian way of saying, 'go fuck yourself.' 

"I saw that," Megan announced with her eyes still looking down at the ads. 

Mia stuck out her tongue and taunted her dad before disappearing into the hallway. She quickly reemerged. "Is Aunt Cindy making cheesecake?" 

Megan slowly shook her head. "I don't know..." 

"If she is, can you bring me home a piece?" 

"I'll see what I can do," Megan answered. 

"Thanks, Mom!" Mia yelled out before disappearing again and loudly trudging up the stairs. 

"No problem, baby!" she shouted back. The brunette mother looked up at her husband and rolled her eyes. "God, you two are like twins." 


Greg sat down on the couch, readying himself for a night of playoff hockey which was already underway. Of course, their city's team wasn't in it. They rarely were. But that didn't deter him from still enjoying the next few months of action. There were few things better in life than playoff hockey. 

"You're an asshole." 

His head immediately shot to the left to see his daughter leaning against the wall. He raised his eyebrows at her. "Excuse me?" 

"You heard me." 

"Would you like to have this slavery deal extended a few more weeks?" he asked. 

Mia huffed before walking over to the couch to join her dad. After sitting down, she raised her right foot onto her left knee so he could see it. "Look at my feet!" 

Greg leaned in closer to see what she was referring to. Her foot was very tired looking, but it wasn't anything severe. "God, you're such a baby." 

"They're killing me!" she whined. "Thanks to you!" 

He shook his head. "They're wrinkled because you just took a two hour bath! Not because you dragged some branches around. You're a basketball player, Mia. Not English royalty. Stop acting like you've never done hard work before." 

"They hurt!" she pouted while softly rubbing her right foot with her left hand. She then looked at her dad with puppy dog eyes. 

"I thought you were my slave?" Greg chuckled. "Fine. Let me see 'em." 

Mia smiled before lying back on the couch and placing her feet on her dad's lap. He slowly began to rub and massage them. 

"How does that feel?" he asked. 

Mia let out a loud, over-the-top moan. "Fannnnnnntastic..." 

Greg laughed. "I'll be honest with you, honey. I do feel kinda bad. I mean, that was a lot of work." 

"No shit," she told him with her eyes closed. 

"Maybe...maybe we can end our agreement early," he said. "From this moment on, you're officially a free woman." 

She opened her eyes and looked at her father. "What if...what if we work something else out?" 

"Jesus Christ..." Greg groaned. "Does everything have to be some sort of deal with you?" 

"Me!?" she asked with a shocked tone to her voice. "Me? You're the one who turns everything into a bartering session!" 

Well, the one thing he couldn't call her was a liar. 

"You want to keep being my slave?" he asked with a surprised look. 

She gave him a quick nod with her back still sprawled along the couch. "Yeah, through tomorrow. Seven days. That was our agreement." 

"So what's your proposal then?" 

"Well, I think we can both agree that I went above and beyond today, and you kinda owe me," the teen said. 

"I owe you?" he asked. 

"Yeah," she answered. "Three hours of dragging branches, Dad!" 

"Ok, ok," he laughed. "What do you have in mind?" 

"For the next hour...I can wear whatever I want."  (next Chap 2)
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