偶遇闺蜜父亲 - 重温少女梦幻
Reddit 真人故事 洁本: Getting Soaking Wet Behind the Genius Bar: Or How I Saw My Ex-Best Friend's Dad Again (self.SluttyConfessions)
submitted 1 day ago by thankyoucumagain420
Jonrichards82 15 hours ago
Best thing I’ve ever read on this crazy mother fxxxer Reddit
badgirl_throwaway 5 hours ago
Girl. Message him. Why not? You're not friends with his daughter anymore and it sounds like he'd be an amazing fxxx. But please come back and tell us about what happens?
[–]thankyoucumagain420 5 hours ago
I did message him! Yesterday, almost 24 hours and no word yet...
I’m not sure if this confession fits in here. I’m not even sure if this is a confession. But this happened to me this week, and I can’t get it out of my head, and I love lurking on this sub. I’ve always wanted to have a story worthy of this place, but, I have to admit, my sex life is rather vanilla. Pretty active and satisfying: but largely vanilla (save for an errant experiment with butt plugs and maybe a few desperate moments of public stuff).
I’m a twenty-four year old woman. Currently, and hopefully not forever, I work in my town’s Apple Store. It’s a decent gig. I work behind the Genius bar, but I’m no genius. I only work on the mobile devices. I don’t know much about tech stuff, but luckily the job is 90% customer service/retail and 10% technical. At least in my experience so far.
Earlier this week, the father of my ex-best friend walked in.
偶遇闺蜜父亲 - 重温少女梦幻
Reddit 真人故事 洁本:
Let’s call him Steve, and let’s call his daughter Evelyn. Evelyn and I were inseparable from about 6thgrade until towards the end of high school. We were your classic mean girls. Luckily, I reformed; Evelyn didn’t. Evelyn’s mother died way before I met her, so Steve was the one who picked us up if we were hanging out afterschool, made us snacks, etc. Evelyn, and by extension me, was a total brat to her dad. Following her lead, I would barely say hello to him and never laugh at his dad jokes. The complication was that Steve was the hottest dad I had ever seen. He had a rock-hard body, which he wasn’t afraid to show in the summer; a handsome jaw line; steely blue eyes; a sexy salt-and-pepper hair. Even as a teen, I felt completely attracted to him. He was the subject of about 90% of my masturbation fantasies.
I was always quick to suggest having a sleepover at Evelyn’s house, in the hopes that something would happen. I wasn’t sure what, but something. Of course, it was all a fantasy. Until one night, around one in the morning, after everyone was supposedly asleep, I was walking back to Evelyn’s room from the bathroom, and I heard moaning coming from Steve’s room. I froze, I put my ear to the wall (too afraid to touch the door itself), and I listened. Steve was moaning softly. Or he was snoring. Or it was all in my head. But, in my memories at least, he was moaning, and then I heard the thwacking of skin-on-skin. I imagined his powerful hand gripping his private part, his accessories slapping against his leg. I imagine him imagining me, his daughter’s best friend, who was the first girl in her grade with decent breasts, who swam in his pool on hot days, and only wore the smallest bikinis, two sizes too small, for him, always for him. I was getting myself soaked in the dark hallway, listening at the wall. I touched myself, holding one hand over my mouth, while the other rubbed faster and faster. He stopped moaning, and I froze again. I raced back to Evelyn’s room, and jumped into bed. She was always a heavy sleeper. I laid there, with soaking wet panties and fingers.
Junior year, Evelyn and I had our last Big Fight, and called it quits. I gravitated towards the theater kids, and learned humility; Evelyn started doing coke and, after we graduated, moved to Arizona. I thought her dad had left town too. I went away for college, and had a bunch of that vanilla sex I mentioned. During my senior year, I started dating this marginally older dude. He was BIG into the whole “call me daddy” thing. I never understood that (my dad is a fat, jolly red-nosed Irish guy, so I never got why evoking him was sexy), but I tend to be a sexual chameleon, slightly changing my habits to confirm to the guy I’m with (hence the butt plug stuff, that was boyfriend number two). This guy made not-so-subtle hints that he wanted to be called daddy, so I tried it once during sex. Suddenly, I remembered not my dad, but Evelyn’s. I moaned “daddy” and thought of his chiseled body, I screamed “xxxx me daddy” and thought of that secret night of hallway moaning. I came harder than I have before. The guy thought he was a stallion. I knew it wasn’t him; it was Steve.
So, when he walked into the Apple Store, of course my hands are sweating. He sees me. I quickly go through the queue of names of people with Genius bar sessions, and I see his name. I select it, which means he is mine. Steve is just as sexy as I remembered him. A little more salt in his salt-and-pepper hair, a slight bit of stumble, which totally works for him, but still a strong looking body, and beautiful smile.
“Small world,” he says. I agree and smile. We make the smallest of small talk, I tell him I’m back in town for a bit, he lies and says Evelyn is doing well, I smile again. He is doing that thing that some guys do, where they can’t look at me directly in the eyes for too long. I’ve been told by everyone – every boyfriend, every older relative, every cashier, every random person on the bus – that I have “beautiful blue eyes.” Some guys can’t handle looking at them for too long. I heard how high my voice was getting. I switched the conversation over to his phone. Some classic problem. I have to deduce if it is hardware or software, which just means I have to erase his phone and see if the issue persists. I explain this and ask Steve if he has a backup. Like most older adults, he has no idea if he has a backup. I asked him if he has anything important on his phone. “Just pictures. I got thousands on here. I think they are all on my computer, but I don’t know, you know?” I ask Steve if he has his laptop with him. He does. I offer that he can either backup his whole phone now, or just his pictures, that way he won’t lose anything. He says he only really has pictures, that his contacts were definitely in iCloud (so the old man DOES know something), and that he will back up his photos now. I help him set it up. In doing so, our hands touch for a fraction of a second. I still hope he didn’t feel how sweaty they were.
I told him it might take a minute or two. He said he’d go browse the Bluetooth speakers. I turned the computer screen away from the rest of the room, so the other customers couldn’t see the photos flashing on the screen as they are saved, and Steve walked away. I pretended to look at my iPad for the next customer in the queue, but really was looking at this photos. He really did have a lot.
Then, it happened. A series of crotch pics. Even using that term seems wrong. Drotch pics are ugly, strange things that guys think girls want to see. These weren’t that. These were photographs of the best physical attraction I’ve ever been experienced in my life (100 words deleted)... I could feel myself getting soaked, just like I was back in that hallway, listening at the wall. The photos finished saving. I closed the app and, as Steve and I discussed, erased his phone. After I turned it on again, his technical problem persisted. I called him over. I must have been red-faced.
“It’s okay; I can see the look on your face; it busted, right?” I told him, or at least I think I told him, I was too overwhelmed to remember properly, that it was a screen issue, but we can make the repair in store, it will take a day. He was very understanding. “So I come back tomorrow and ask for you?” I explained I wasn’t working tomorrow, but anyone could help. “You’ve been very helpful already. It was nice bumping into you like this.” He smiled and was gone.
I took the phone to the repair room in the back. I don’t do the repairs, I just hand it off. In the stairwell, while clutching his phone, wishing foolishly that all the pictures were still there, so I could stare, so I could soak them in, so I could commit every detail to memory, Steve got a text. This happens sometimes. We are just supposed to keep it in airplane mode. I had forgotten to turn it on. Steve hadn’t restored his iCloud contacts, so the text was just from a phone number. The area code was local. The text was a picture of a pert pair of breasts and a glowing tan stomach. The message read: “see you tonite daddy?” I stared. The woman in the picture couldn’t have been much older than me. I shut off the phone and brought it to the repair room.
I couldn’t stop thinking about Steve’s perfect body and this mystery woman. This all happened this week, so I haven’t seen Steve since. At least not in person. In my mind, he is constantly stroking himself, smiling at me, and I become overwhelmed. I haven’t touched myself this often and this intensely for years. I want him inside me. I want to taste his sweat. I want to lose myself in his embrace. I want to be the mysterious woman in the picture. I want to see daddy tonite.
Advice time: what should I do? Should I try to reach out to him? Look him up online, or drive by the old house, to see if he still lives there? I think I know he is into younger women, given the mysterious picture, but is that enough? Or should I just let this be, and be happy I get to put a picture to my favorite memory of listening to Steve moaning alone in his bed at night so many years ago?
来源(含自然主义文字): https://
www.reddit.com/r/SluttyConfessions/comments/aov2yw/f_getting_soaking_wet_behind_the_genius_bar_or