Roomie's Dad

My roommate and I are moving out of our dorm and her dad is over to help. I've seen him a few times in the year we've lived together. He's good looking. He's funny. And he's divorced, a fact that my brain likes to remind me of.

And when my roommate's not around, he looks at me in a way that I know should make me uncomfortable. But it doesn't. Which would be fine if I didn't the feeling that he knows about those late-night fantasies, those dreams that I wake up from sweaty and needy.

So when my roommate leaves to drop some things off downtown, I can feel my heart start racing. I have my back to him, sorting my books into keep and sell piles on my desk.

"How'd your exams go?" he asks, and I jump. He is much closer behind me than I expected.

"Good, I think," I say.

"That's good," he says, and I can feel his breath through my hair.

I turn around quickly, which I immediately realize was a mistake, since I'm now inches away from his face. My chest heaves and I see his eyes drop down the low-cut top I'm wearing. I can feel his body heat radiating off of him.

"She'll be back soon," I manage to say, just above a whisper.

"It takes half an hour to get downtown," he says and kisses me hard.

I have my hands braced on the edge of my desk, trying to hold my own but the way he kisses is ruthless and unforgiving. Just when I think I'm starting to keep up, his hands are fumbling with the button and fly of my jeans. He pulls them down roughly, along with my panties and I gasp into his mouth.

He swipes the books off my desk and lifts me up to sit on it and then he's kneeling between my legs. I can barely comprehend what's happening when his mouth is on my pussy. My fingers tangle in his hair as his lips suck at my clit. My head falls back against the bulletin board behind me, my eyes closed and mouth open with pleasure.

And he knows he's good. When I glance down at him, he looks up with an arrogant glint in his eyes just as he presses one finger inside me.

"Fuck," I moan, my head falling back again.

When I come not too much later, trembling and breathless, I think that it's the end of it. This was my scandalous encounter with an older man.

Then I hear the clink of his belt and know we're not done yet.

I look at him, salt and pepper hair, sexy and self-assured. I can only imagine what he sees. My face flushed, hair half out of its ponytail, jeans around my ankles. I slide off the desk and stand up, kicking my jeans and panties away, watching as he undoes his fly. His cock is hard, pushing against his underwear.

"So," he says. "What--"

Before he can finish, I kneel in front of him, face turned up. He puts a hand to my cheek and grins a grin that sets something like adrenaline rushing through my body.

"You ever done this before, sweetheart?" he asks.

I shake my head. "I'm sure you can show me the ropes."

"Ropes, huh." He chuckles. "Don't mind if I do." He pulls his cock out and I try not to be intimidated by its size. He grins again. "I'll be gentle."

"Don't be," I say and take the head in my mouth, swirling my tongue around it.

He groans and the hand he had in my face moves to grip my ponytail. "If you say so," he grunts and thrusts into my mouth.

I feel myself start to gag and close my eyes. He slaps my face, just hard enough for it to sting.