Stars Go Off Ch. 01

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Chapter 1 – But It Starts with a Smell

It’s part of being human; of being male; of being a man; and, unfortunately, of being a father.

It starts so innocently. You’re family; you’re home; it’s a safe zone. You shirk off the multiple masks, one after another, the moment you step in that door. You burp; you fart; you don’t do your hair; you pee with the lights off and the door open. No socks; no shoes; no slacks; no buttoned up shirts. That’s home.

The problem arises when you’re a guy in your 40s, who still loves the smell of pussy, and loves getting his dick wet in as many girls as he can find. Add to that an eighteen year old daughter, with eighteen year old friends, who smells… Well, we’ll get to the rest of it. But we’ll start here, with the smells.

* * *

The start of summer, and we reached that age. Age doesn’t mean much, but since the world focuses on it, it’s hard to ignore. When Brooke turned eighteen, I admit that thought went through my head. Eighteen. My little girl is eighteen. My little girl, she’s… Legal.

Yes, she’s my daughter, but she’s also a vibrant, mature, and beautiful young woman. She’s not a kid; not a baby. I’ve known her since birth, but there’s a lot about her that’s a mystery, a lot of things I don’t know, and a lot of things I’ll never know. When she was eleven or twelve, she just started branching off. She strayed from my hip and let go of my hand. She stopped asking for permission. She stopped seeking my advice. She bought her own clothes; found her own music; did a lot of things I’m sure I shouldn’t ever know about. But that’s her right, and I let her go.

And then there she was, all of a sudden, a woman. Somewhere along the way, the braces came off. The bras, the make-up, the hair products. She learned to look attractive to men, to lure them in. She wasn’t a vamp or a seductress, but every girl wants to look good and wants to be wanted. And she did a great job of it. Not over the top, but in a natural, understated way. And when she was as natural and understated as she could get, that’s when she really drives it home: she’s fucking gorgeous.

As that day…

* * *

“Dad, can I grab the paper?”

“Sure,” I said, without looking up from my laptop, coffee half-way to my lips. She came up behind me, and reached around me to where the Sunday paper was re-folded on the counter.

“Thanks, Dad.” And as she swept the paper away, I inhaled deeply. How could I resist? Fresh out of the shower, hair still damp, she smelled of soap, shampoo, conditioner, and lotion–all stuff made to smell wonderful on women. Clear and clean, fruity and soft. But there was something else–underneath it all, her smell, the smell of woman. A bit musky and warm….

And this time it had an extra bite, tangy undertones that made me freeze. I know that sharpness. I put my hand to my chin, my finger tapping my upper-lip. My finger. I’ve smelled it on my finger before. I remember days at my desk, or out for lunch, and I’d be in the same kid of thought, and I’d inhale, pull at the scent with my nose, remembering what just happened minutes ago.

One, two, three fingers, working their ways deep into some girl’s pussy, pulling her up and in, as I worked her G-spot, eating her out, making her cum. That was the sharp smell. My daughter, although clean and freshly showered, smelled like worked-up pussy.

And so my eyes followed Brooke as she swung over to the other side of the room to drop onto the couch. There she was, a little shorter than me, long black hair falling over her shoulders, a thin t-shirt, and baby blue boy shorts. She pulled her feet up onto the couch and sat side-saddle in the sun. Nice firm breasts, Bs (as if I’ve thought that before–of course I have), and the rest of her like most of her friends, thin and girlish, lean, but starting to curve out in the right places.

I decided to join her on the couch. “Mind if I have a seat, too?”

“No prob, dad. I’ll make room!” And I gently pushed her feet back towards her, making room on the couch. The little push of her knees down and towards her chest forced her cute ass to pop out just a bit more. As I sat, I peered out the corner of my eye, and could see her mound straining the fabric of her shorts.

And so we sat. Both of us reading different sections of the paper. She lifted and rested her feet in my lap; I idly rested a hand on her bare ankle. And, slowly, silently, the temperature in the room started warming. That bahis firmaları moment when you know you’re still, but you feel like you’re shaking, when your shoulders start stiffening (along with your cock), and you don’t think anyone knows what’s going on… But you also have to admit that everyone’s hyper-aware of what’s going on. You’re turning each other on.

Because my hand resting on her ankle came to rest instead on her hip, and her feet in my lap start pressing into my leg. We both knew what we were touching. I was caressing her ass, and she was testing my cock.

Idle, all idle. All utterly deniable. But I was hard, and there was that smell still emanating from her. And as I nonchalantly stretched out my neck, I saw proof. Where her pussy lips were starting to push out, the fabric was darkening. My daughter was getting wet. Because she was making me hard.

This was getting too much. It’s okay to look, but touching is getting too close. I knew what I needed to know. That sharp, hot smell was Brooke’s pussy, and we both knew that we got each other hot.

“More coffee for me,” as I rose from the couch, giving her hip (her ass) a quick squeeze, shifting my hard-on in my shorts, as I lifted her feet off my lap and rose. She murmured something, letting me go, and I topped off my mug and then went to my office. I needed somewhere to breathe, somewhere to think, some space.

* * *

In my office, I took a deep breath and reflected–no, closed my eyes and basked. I just had a gorgeous young girl, with just a light touch, get me rock-hard, and I–an old man, her father–made her wet. I still had it; I still had that touch, that power. And hers, she was just discovering. Yet, there I sat, at my desk, slowly softening, with my balls tingling, and pre-cum starting to form at my tip. I logged into my Gmail and checked my contacts. Perfect. She’s on.

The “she” in this case was Erin a woman from marketing. Well, not technically from marketing, but an intern from marketing. And not a career-track intern from marketing, but a freshman college intern. A summer job, hooked up by daddy, to fill in the time between classes. And while technically a woman, still just a teenager. Nineteen and blonde, with a tiny bit of baby fat. Enough for a little tummy and soft pillowy breasts floating on her chest. Cute and bubbly. But, as I discovered, her shaved pussy and her ability to swallow cock showed that she was well on her way to growing out of that phase.

I remember the first day I met her. Tanya (truly from marketing) was making the rounds, and I happened to run into them in the hallway. Erin stepped up perkily, stretched out a handshake, and introduced herself. I took her hand gently, rubbing my thumb against the back of her hand. I know she just saw me as an old guy, one of her dad’s peers, and someone she should impress so she could turn this into a future. Innocent of my intentions that soon I’d be burying my cock deep inside of her and filling her with cum.

Next time I saw her, she was sitting by herself, outside in the grass and sun, having some lunch. I waved hi and grabbed a spot beside her. I asked how work was, what she found interesting, and how she was getting along with her colleagues. Of course, everything was great– which is never the truth. But you have to push a little to get to the truth, and so I shoved.

“Tanya’s a tough one.”

“Tanya? Oh no, she’s great. I love her! She knows so much; I’ve got so much to learn.”

“And she makes that clear to you at least once or twice a day, right?”

“Oh no, not at all!” “Last time I worked with her… Look, everyone knows she means well, but you have to realize that everyone is out there looking to get their own. It’s a law of nature: kill or be killed. I can’t fault her for that, but I do fault her on the way she goes about doing it. She does it pushing you down. On the other hand, the right way to do it is for me to pull you up and have you give me a push on my way up above you. Do you get that?”

“Uhm, no, not really.”

“Look,” and I reached out and took her hand in mine. I squared myself to her and looked right into her light blue eyes. I held them for a beat, then two, and then turned her hand so it was palm up on top of mine. “Try to push my hand down. It’s hard, right? Now I’ll start lifting, and you start raising your hand, too. Now that’s super easy.” And I raised her hand up into the air. She sat there, a bit confused, in a helpless kaçak iddaa position, her breasts jiggling a bit in the air, as I lifted. Still holding her hand up there, I said, “We all want something, so we put our hands out, but it’s harder to keep people down than to lift them up. But if we go up together, it’s easier for both. That’s the real law of nature.” I flipped my hand over on top of hers, holding it, and then lowered both to her lap. “Now does that make sense?”

“Yeah, it does. But how do I make it happen with Tanya?”

“That’s lesson number two. I have to run now, but how about coffee tomorrow afternoon? Swing by my office at 4, okay?”

“Sure! Thank you!” And with that I dropped her hand and strode back to work. I knew it. And tomorrow I’m going to fuck you.

* * *

But, before recounting that first time, more pressing matters were at hand. I had balls ready to burst and a willing assistant on-line. I clicked her name in my contacts list.

me: hey you.

Erin: hey qt!

me: plans for today?

Erin: o just a few. maybe go to jul’s house later today. maybe not. depends.

me: depends on what? depends what i’m up to, right?

Erin: haha. so bold right?

me: you know me.

Erin: but i do have things i need to do… sry.

me: “sry” doesn’t cut it. send me a picture.

Erin: right now? mom’s home!!!

me: webcam. now.

Erin: not now!

me: now. tits or gtfo.

Erin: 😀 hold on

Erin: did you get it?

Erin: hello? u still there?

* * *

me: what are you up to?

Erin: where did you go?

me: are you still at home?

Erin: ya where did you go? did you get my picture?

me: yes, but i need more.

Erin: no

me: look out your window.

* * *

“What are you doing here? My mom’s right there in the back yard!”

“She’s sunning, with her iPod on. She’ll have no idea. Let me in.”

“I can’t! You’re crazy!”

“Okay, then come out. Now.”

Unable to hide her laughter, she shut the window, and seconds later I met her at the door. So cute. Blonde hair tied up in a loose bun, held with a pencil. Terry cloth shorts and a tank top. No bra. “Are you coming in? You can’t do that!” She gave me a playful shove.

I responded by stepping up to her, grabbing her hair from the back, and kissing her. She melted into my arms, as my free hand kneaded her firm ass. I buried my nose into her hair, her neck, back up to her lips, teeth biting, searching for something soft. I inhaled her, detergent, deodorant, perfume, sweat, spit. My fingers worked their way up under her shorts hem, then around the back of her thighs, up inside, slipping under the hem of her panties. Her slit was hot and wet. Our tongues lashed, and I half-picked her up, fingertips nibbling at her pussy. I disengaged my hand, and shoved it down the front of her pants, middle and index fingers working their ways around her clit and up inside of her. And this released her scent, underneath it all, an undercurrent drawing me under and away. Her pussy, her cunt, her sex, starting to churn with cream, with gush, wanting me, and asking me in.

I shoved her against the door frame and started pushing and pulling my fingers back and forth into her. She muffled a scream into my mouth and started searching for my cock. I released her hair and shoved my hand under her shirt, mauling her breasts, kneading their firmness, squeezing them to her gasp.

A little bit of caution. With my hands still in her pants, and her hands now pumping my cock, I dragged her around to the side of the house and into her parents’ garage. One car gone, the other, her mom’s red Beamer convertible, with the top off. I opened the backseat door closest to us and laid her down on the seat. She lifted her top, exposing her breasts, those glorious, tan, C-cup tits, with a little bit of baby-fat bounce, but that inextricable firmness of teen flesh. I ripped down her shorts and panties both at once and wrapped my mouth around her puffy, soaked pussy lips. With my licking and sucking, she moaned, with her hands now clutching her hair and occasionally moving over her mouth to muffle a scream. I shoved two fingers into her and with a come-hither curling, worked her G-spot, while I rubbed out her clit with my tongue. She started coming, I could feel her writhing, and saw her biting the back of her hand, her abs clenching, and before she was done, I had my cock stuffed kaçak bahis hilt-deep inside of her, causing her to bite her hand again to stifle her cry.

“Oh, God, fuck me,” she angrily whispered. “Oh, God, I fucking love how you fuck me!”

“Fuck, you little bitch, you make me so hard…” And she did. She gets me stone hard, so hard that with each deep thrust I could feel my head disconnect from my shaft, like I’m throwing it into her, with my balls recoiling off her ass. I put my hands underneath her hips and lifted her as I pounded her.

“Oh, God, oh yes, oh God, oh fuck, not in my ass, oh fuck I love it!” As I worked my ring finger into her beautiful little asshole. I abruptly pulled out of her, which caused her to angrily grunt, then flipped her over, face down. I slipped my finger out and bent down to taste that starfish dirt-hole. Licking, tongue-fucking, I worked her, tasting her musk, salty with sweat and nineteen year-old girl cum, who I knew minutes before was just sitting around, quietly playing with herself and taking naughty pictures for some guy her dad’s age who she can’t get enough cock from.

I kept at her ass while fingered herself to another orgasm, then stood up and aimed again for her recently vacated pussy. In I went and out went her breath. And I banged her. Slamming her into her mother’s backseat, hands on the car, smothering her into the leather. Now she was all mine. She came, and now I get to use her body. Use her for my cum. When I want, where I want, as often as I want. If I need to cum, I need her.

I hovered above Erin, with her cheek scrunched on the backseat, ass in the air, grabbing onto whatever she could find, a headrest, a seatbelt, a door handle, whimpering with pleasure, as I pistoned in and out of her tight, wet, wet pussy. I grabbed her hips, her hand, her hair, and gazed upon this beautiful creature wanting to be used by me for my pleasure.

“I love it. Use me. You need me to cum. You… Need… Me… I’m yours I’m yours I’m yours!”

“Do you want my cum? All of it? In your cute little cunt? You want to feel my cum inside your cunt? Wet and dripping out?”

Shit. What was that? “Erin! Erin, where are you?” Fuck. It was her mom. How long had we been at it? Fuck. Must cum. Now. I held a breath in, and then plunged as deep as I could into her, grinding her pussy against my hips, bottoming out at her cervix as she screamed, screamed, she didn’t care, and I unloaded ropes of cum into her pretty pussy. I buried my forehead into her back and muffled my grunt, and she gasped, exhaled, biting into leather, as she felt me release into her womb.

“Fuck fuck fuck fuck… Fuck! Oh, cum in me, cum in me, you bastard fuck!”

“Erin! Where are you?”

“Goddamnit, fuck me, Erin, you feel so fucking incredible, oh, fuck, you beautiful beautiful bitch whore. Filled with my cum. I fucking love you.”


“I love you, too, I love you when you fuck me, don’t stop fucking me. Please. Please. Please.”

* * *

“Erin! There you are! Where were you? I’ve been calling you all day!”

Erin sat up from where she was digging around in the front-seat bucket. “Oh, sorry, mom, I was going to come get you, but I was just looking for an earring I thought I maybe lost in your car.”

“Oh, do you need some help?”

“Oh, no, I just couldn’t find it. I bet it will turn up sometime.” “Okay, well, let me know. I was just going to head over to Nancy’s for a bit, and just wanted to know you were okay if I was gone for a few.”

“Oh, that’s fine…”

I didn’t catch the rest, as I was just outside the garage doors, when Erin’s mom walked in. I had my shirt half-way on, and a hand in my pants, holding my resting cock, still wet with Erin’s cum. And Erin coolly standing there, all mussed up, my cum inside of her, dripping out, filling her panties, about to soak through her shorts. In front of her mom. Knowing she just got fucked, no condom, cream-pied, ass tongued, bent over, like a little slut in the back of her mom’s car. God, I love that girl. I crept out, across, the street, and into my car. Time to head home, with her smell all over me.

* * *

Erin: you fucking asshole

me: fucking your asshole.

Erin: my mom almost caught us!!!

me: but she didn’t.

Erin: asshole

Erin: i love u

me: keep that pussy warm for me.

Erin: when next?

me: i don’t know. but soon.

Erin: soon please now please more please u please

me: miss you.

Erin: me too

me: lunch tomorrow?

Erin: fuck lunch

me: yes. fuck-lunch. see you soon.

Erin: i love

These messages were sent when you were offline.

Erin: you

* * *

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