#thank you chy! 💜 | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

misspearly1 · 3 years ago

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@kirsteng42 I have not yet had the pleasure to read this, thank you for the suggestion. 💜 😁

@kiwixlime this has been recommended to me twice today, you’re work is fabulous my love. I look forward to reading this 🥰

Thank you Chy for sending this to me as well @extraneous-trip 💜 😘

Between You and I

D is for DILF

Growing up, Sarah Miller was your best friend. You spent all your free time together until she moved across the country with her dad. Ten years later, Mr. Miller returns to find you still in your hometown.

Pairing: Joel Miller x Female Reader

Warnings: This is smut, but I consider it porn with plot. There is also an age gap, but reader is in her twenties, Joel is in his forties. I had this planned for a story, but decided to make it a one shot instead lol. But it’s super long. Holy fuck. I’m sorry!

18+ Minors DNI

Wednesday evening, you find yourself standing in line at Dreamy Beans Café with your friend, Harmony. You’re spaced out, cash in your hand, waiting to pay for your drink, but your eyes are focused on the television screen above. It’s a women’s soccer game, a sport you’re only a tad bit familiar with, but watching the match brings up recollections from your childhood, and it’s easy for your brain to get caught up in those.

Funny how soccer reminds you of your younger years even though you never played the sport. But you can reflect on the days you and Harmony sat on the bleachers watching your other friend, Sarah, kill it on the field. Those were the days. You had each other. And for the longest time, those two girls were all you needed.

You grew up with them. Your house sat right between theirs at the end of the street. And the three of you were all the same age and therefore inseparable. Even your parents got along well with each other. Of course, Sarah had a unique situation with her father being nineteen when they first moved to the neighborhood. But your parents and Harmony’s parents were there to help him out when he needed it. Mr. Miller was always a good guy...

“Hey, hey!” A sharp jab in your side jolts you back to life. A strange noise leaves your lips, and you shiver, turning around to yell at your friend before realizing you’re the asshole holding up the line.

“Oops,” you say innocently and hand over your cash, grabbing your drink - fruity tea because you hate coffee - in the process. Behind you, Harmony does the same before dragging you by the elbow towards the exit. She thanks a woman who holds the door open for the two of you, and you step out into the warm, breezy air.

“You back on Earth?” She asks with a laugh as she links her arm with yours. You can feel the heat rise to your cheeks, and you look over at her, scrunching your face up at her mischievous smile. So you’ve been a little flighty lately. Not your fault your brain wants to take a trip down memory lane.

“I was just thinking,” you mumble, sipping from your drink, invigorated by the fresh, vibrant flavors. A happy sigh leaves your lips. This is just what you needed today, a little splash of color in your murky world.

“Thinking about who?” Harmony asks, knowing that it’s obviously a person on your mind. The matchmaker inside of her will be disappointed to learn it’s not about your love life.

“Sarah,” you admit, taking another drink. “I don’t know,” you shrug. “I always expect to look up one day at those games and see her name and face, you know?”

Harmony nods. She understands. She misses Sarah just as much as you do. “Me, too.”

“She was so good,” you comment, thinking back on your high school years.

“She was,” Harmony agrees with a small smile. Her beige-painted nails dance around the rim of her cup in thought. “She was the athlete, you were the entertainer, and I was the brains,” she laughs.

“The brains,” you chuckle. But she's not wrong. Harmony is exceptionally bright. But she’s more than just a brainiac. Harmony is the whole package as far as you’re concerned. “And the beauty and the body…” You trail off before adding, “and the humor.”

“Hey, now,” Harmony glowers at the tone in your voice. She gives you a disapproving look.

“Oh, come on,” you scoff. “You were always the babe,” you point out. “Still are.”

“You are, too!” She insists, and the look in her deep brown eyes tells you she truly believes that. “You might’ve been a little awkward in high school," she confesses. "But you’ve blossomed, girl. I might even be into you.” Her voice holds a coyness you’ve grown accustomed to, and you can’t help the smile that breaks out on your face.

“Scandalous,” you huff, hand to your chest. “What would Elijah say?”

“He’d probably love another wife just to keep me entertained,” she declares with a smirk. You giggle and roll your eyes at the idea. Elijah is Harmony’s soon-to-be husband. They’re literally high school sweethearts, and you hate them, but love them with all your heart. You can only hope to find a passion like theirs one day.

“God, I miss her,” you mutter about Sarah. You never really got closure with her. In the middle of high school, she announced she and her dad were moving across the country. She said it was so she could pursue soccer at a better school, but it was so sudden, so abrupt.

“I do too,” Harmony adds. “And... I miss her dad.” You snort, and as much as you want to scold your friend, you can't. You miss him, too.

Joel Miller was the absolute hottest topic in the whole town for being a hot, single dad who loved his kid more than anything. After he hit the age of 20, every woman wanted him. But his world revolved solely around Sarah.

You were teens when you began to notice Joel’s attractiveness. You and Harmony would joke around, sometimes tease Sarah that her dad was, in fact, a DILF. She always hated you for it, but she knew you never meant any harm. You were dumb, immature teenagers with a silly crush that meant nothing. But you had eyes. And you always noticed the man.

“You off to work?” Harmony asks as you come to a stop at a busy intersection. This is where you part most days, Harmony for the hospital and you, well… When Harmony leaves, you have to take the bus downtown to a job you loathe.

“Ugh, yes,” you lament and pull a pained face. Work - like your love life - is an area that needs a major overhaul. But at least it’s money, a stable income. But, oh, what you could have been.

“It’ll get better,” your friend assures you, knowing that you’re unsatisfied with your life. Harmony is an optimist, though. But even more important than that, she truly believes that good things are coming to you. It’s nice to pretend, even if you don’t believe.

“Same time tomorrow?” You ask.

“Same time tomorrow,” she grins, giving you a hug before she crosses the street.

As you spin on your heels to head towards your bus stop, you bump into someone, dropping your cup in the process. The liquid splashes up, showering both you and the stranger in cold droplets. Instantly, you begin to panic. “Oh, fuck, I’m so fucking sorry,” you mumble out, scrambling to pick up your cup to avoid any more messes.

The person you ran into chuckles and brushes themselves off. You can’t handle meeting their eyes, focusing on your shoes, and cleaning off the tea that paints your only good pair of heels. You don’t know what to say other than sorry, but luckily for you, the stranger speaks. And it disturbs you.

“I never thought I’d ever hear you say words like that,” the man declares, and that voice! You recognize that deep voice. Your eyes widen, and the hair on your neck stands on end. Yes, you would know that voice anywhere. You glance up from the puddle at your feet and blink a few times.

“M-Mr. Miller?” You stammer.

“Hey, kiddo,” he smiles, and it’s so bright and charming, your pathetic little heart skips a beat. "You know we are older now. You can call me Joel."

It’s a weird feeling that pulsates through you. You aren’t sure if it’s shock, happiness, or his small resemblance to Sarah, but you jump into his arms, enveloping him in a tight hug. Joel, not expecting it, stumbles back a bit. He slowly hugs you back and feels a sense of serenity sprout through him.

“It’s so good to see you,” you say, almost tearful. “Is Sarah here? How is she?” You question, awkwardly pulling yourself away from the handsome man and looking around him for that cheerful girl.

“She’s fine,” he says with a grin. “She’s at college, working on her game, kicking ass,” he claims proudly. You try to hide your disappointment that your best friend isn’t around, but you’re happy for her. From what Joel says, she’s thriving. She deserves that.

“Wow,” you express. “That’s incredible. Can you…I mean, next time you talk to her, can you tell her that I miss her? That Harmony and I miss her?”

“Of course,” Joel nods, and you can’t help but let your eyes linger on him for a few seconds. He’s still a total DILF. He’s a bit older now, but so are you, and now you don’t feel guilty about your attraction to him. In fact, seeing him again has sent you into a spiral. Your teenage self would be so flustered right now.

While your mind is, once again, off in its own little world, you don’t realize that Joel’s studying you. He notices you gaping at him and coughs. That snaps you back into focus, making you apologize immediately. “I’m so sorry,” you say shyly. “It’s just been so long. You look exactly the same and yet so different.”

“I could say the same about you,” he says, rendering you bashful.

“So, uh, how are you? What brings you to town?” You feel like you have a million questions, but you don’t want to overwhelm the guy with all of them. So you settle on the basics and start walking down the sidewalk, hoping he follows you. He does.

“I’m back,” he says casually. “I moved into a place a couple of weeks ago.”

“Oh?” You question him, surprised by the news. That’s not the answer you were expecting, not at all. But you have to admit, it makes you a little pleased. Maybe you can properly catch up with him, not just a quick chat on your way to work.

“Yeah, you know, Sarah’s living it up, and I missed it here,” he tells you. “Talked to Tommy about going into business together. I’m real sorry. If I had known you were still in the city, I would have looked you up to say hello. I just assumed you would be on Broadway.”

You flinch a little at the mention of your former hopes and dreams. The shiny life you planned for is nothing but a fuzzy wish now. “No,” you sulk. “The only dancing and singing I do now is at a club.” Your mind bounces back to what Harmony said, good things are coming. You hope, anyway.

Joel’s intrigued by your answer, but before he can question you, your phone rings. "Speaking of,” you apologize to the man in front of you. “It’s my job. I have to take this."

He laughs and stops walking, letting you go ahead. “No worries, kiddo.”

“It was really good seeing you again, Joel,” you say softly. “I’m glad you’re back!”

You answer your phone as you walk away from him, leaving him behind to observe you. He listens to you speak and smiles to himself. You’re still that chaotic girl he remembers. And for some reason, that makes his stomach tingle.

When you arrive at the club, you head for the changing rooms upstairs so you can dress yourself up in your nefarious ensemble. Around you, other girls chit-chat about their performances tonight, asking you for your opinion, but you can’t pay attention because you can’t stop thinking about Joel. How strange you ran into him when you and Harmony were just gabbing about him. He looked good, so good you made a mental note to tell your friend. Of course, when she got your text, you could practically hear her squealing from the other end. She insisted on a picture of him. But really, when will you have the chance to meet again?

You sigh and put on the finishing touches of your makeup for the night. Your eyeliner is winged and thick; your lashes are long, flared out dramatically. And your lips are a soft, bright pink. And to pull the whole look together, rhinestones are strategically placed along your lash line and cheekbones. Yep. This is your life. This is what you do.

Behind your privacy curtain, you change into your costume, slipping into a tight corset top, tutu skirt, and heels. You’d be mortified if you didn’t look so alluring. Not your ideal profession, but the money is decent, and you get to show off your assets. All of your assets.

Your fingers mess with the pins in your hair, tugging them loose and letting the soft curls flow over your shoulders. The reflection in the mirror is of a girl you barely recognize, someone who’s lost her way in the world. There are many things you would change if you could, but dwelling on the past and what could have been only hurts you more. And, well, at least you have your talent.

You work at the only Burlesque Club in the city, and you're quite popular among the audience. But the start of each shift requires you to be a mixologist while a different group of girls gets the place warmed up for the night. They’re the ones who welcome patrons as they file in and get settled. Beautiful, talented, but newer and not as seasoned as you and some other performers. The opening acts, if you will.

Yes, lucky you. You are a headliner.

“Hey, sweetheart,” you hear from your left and fight the urge to curse out the motherfucker. If there’s anything you hate, it’s being called “sweetheart” by some drunk loser. But you put on your best smile and saunter over to where the man sits. He’s older, probably in his mid-fifties, and his eyes rake in every inch of your body even though you’re probably younger than his daughter. Oh, who are you to judge? You’re the one daydreaming about your best friend’s father. “I’ll take an Old Fashioned,” he says, holding out a crisp $100 bill.

“As you wish,” you smile, flicking your hair as you take the money from him. You can definitely pretend to be interested in him for a generous tip. You and your partner, Daphne, do it all the time. So you flirt a little as you mix his drink and know he appreciates it.

“Keep the change, gorgeous,” he winks, and even though his advances make you want to take a loofah and bleach to your skin, you keep up your smile and whisper thanks, brushing your fingers against him when you serve him his drink.

He slides you a napkin across the bar top with his name and number in messy scribbles before he nods at you and takes his glass. You watch with a scowl as the man heads to the main floor. The opening girls are on their last act, and no one wants to miss it. You wrinkle your nose and scrunch up the napkin in your fingers, tossing it into the trash. You’d rather have the tips, to be honest.

A quick scan of the room lets you know the club is pretty packed tonight. Good for business, good for tips, not so good for your anxiety. You look to the entrance, waiting to see if anyone else will show up before the doors close for the night. And they do, but the group of gentlemen who come strolling in happens to be the last people you want to see.

“Oh my god,” you whisper as Joel, Tommy, and their friend pay the entrance fee. You try to hide behind the bar, but it’s too late. Joel looks over and sees you just as you duck. “Fuck,” you grunt.

“Girl, what the hell?” Daphne questions as she nearly trips over you.

“Shh!” You hush her. “Don’t look at me. Pretend I’m not here.”

She gives you a bewildered look. “What’s wrong with you?”

“Daphne!” You scold up at her, which confuses her even more. “Just shut up!”

“Oh,” she hums, a smirk pulling at her lips. “Does this have to do with the very attractive gentleman heading our way?”

“Oh my god,” you groan and bury your face in your hands. No, this cannot be happening. Not now. Not tonight. Not like this!

“Now, that is some outfit,” you hear Joel say as he leans over the bar top, peering down at you. Your eyes flick up, smiling timidly as you meet his teasing gaze. You clear your throat as you stand, attempting to cover yourself up. Not that it matters. Joel’s already seen you in your snug fitted jewel-toned corset and skirt. You can’t even imagine what’s going through his mind right now, and honestly, you don’t want to. Suddenly, you feel aware of your attire. Sure, you look hot as fuck in your outfit with its satin and lace and frills, but this is Joel.

“How did you find me?” You ask him, flustered by his appearance at your club.

He points behind him and your eyes follow. “Tommy,” he says.

“Of course,” you sigh. “Guess I shouldn’t be surprised.”

“Why?” Joel asks, and if you’re not mistaken, his voice holds a hint of…protectiveness? “Tommy come here often?”

“Not that much, but every once in a while. He really likes to tease me,” you say, shaking your head. Those aren’t the right words. “Not tease, he’s just trying to get me back on track with the whole Broadway thing.”

At this, Joel’s stiff posture relaxes, and he takes a seat at the bar. “So why don’t you?” He questions. “Go back to Broadway?”

“This is my life, Joel,” you say quickly, not wanting to talk about this subject. “I tried and failed to be a star and frankly, this is less embarrassing than trying and failing again.”

He looks disappointed, and you hate being on the receiving end of that look. “You’re so talented, though,” he compliments, and you have to admit, your heart flutters at the words. “You can’t just give up.”

Across the room, the curtains close, and the lights dim. About a half-hour and it'll be your turn to shine on stage. You wish Joel would just fucking leave. But he seems determined to finish your conversation, or at least catch one of your performances. You don’t know which is worse.

“I gotta go,” you say, abruptly abandoning your spot behind the bar. Daphne follows, shooting the man a wink as she passes by. You and her need to freshen up before you hit the stage, and the last thing you need to think about is Joel. So you take a few calming breaths and head up to the dressing rooms, mentally hyping yourself up for the show.

Much to your surprise, Joel sticks around for a while. Every so often you can see him from your place on stage. You do your best to block him out to stay focused on your routine and try to not freak out over the fact that your friend's dad is watching you dance and sing from an oversized martini glass. It’s fine. This is fine. Everything is fine.

Your shift ends sometime around midnight. Exhausted, you exit the stage and make your way to your dressing room. It's time to switch out of your performance outfit for comfy clothes. Overall, it’s been a successful night. You watched Joel and Tommy leave about midway through your show with Daphne and after that, you were able to relax and get more into character. Now you’re ready to go home, wash your face, and make some hot tea to soothe your throat.

Daphne offers you a ride like she usually does. But you decline her offer like you usually do. You prefer being alone after a show, so you take the bus. It gives you time to think, review your performance, and see how you can improve your vocals. It’s not Broadway, that’s for sure. But you’re thankful you still get to use your voice. Performing is all you ever wanted.

The last bus runs through this area at 1AM, so you take your time leaving, saying goodbye to the rest of your colleagues, and counting out the tips you made tonight. The cool night air hits you as you leave through the back exit, and you pocket your cash, satisfied with your earnings tonight. The bus stop isn’t far if you take your path through the second parking lot, so you weave through the last couple of cars, stopping in your tracks when you spot a truck. It’s not so much the truck that startles you, but the person leaning against it.

“Joel?” You ask hesitantly.

“Hey, kiddo,” he smiles, walking towards you.

“You’re still here?” You question.

“Kind of,” he answers with a shrug. “Tommy was getting a little antsy after like the third song, so I took him home. I came back. Thought you might want a ride?”

“I was going to take the bus,” you say, chewing on your lower lip. You peek ahead to the bus stop. Do you want to give up your pattern? You do enjoy the silence… Fuck it. Joel Miller is offering you a ride. Only an idiot would say no. “But that would be nice, thank you.”

He’s a perfect gentleman, opening the passenger door for you. He smiles as you thank him and takes your hand to help you step up into the truck. “Do you have to go straight home?” He asks you. “Maybe I can interest you in a cup of coffee?”

“I fucking hate coffee,” you groan, earning a laugh from him. “I could use a drink, though,” you speak softly.

“A drink sounds great,” he replies, shutting your door. Your leg bounces a little as you wait for Joel to get in. Is this a good idea? Probably not. You should leave, just go wait for the bus. Nothing good will come of having booze with the older man this time at night. But he opens his door and slides in, tilting closer to you as he buckles his seatbelt, and you can smell his cologne. What’s one drink, right?

“Are you alright with going to my place?” He asks, inviting you back to his home. The look in his eyes is so sincere, gentle, and you feel like you’re going to burst into flirty giggles as your teenage self would.

“That would be great,” you say, calming the quiver in your voice. Joel peels out of the parking lot and heads for his apartment. The whole drive, you run different scenarios through your mind. You know nothing will happen between the two of you, but you can’t help but wonder…

Holy shit, you are in Joel’s apartment. You’re sitting on his couch while he’s in the kitchen pouring two glasses of wine. Bad idea, this is a very bad idea. What would Harmony say? Fuck, what would Sarah say? It’s just a drink, you tell yourself. Just a drink!

“Here you are, darlin’,” Joel voices as he comes back into view. He hands you a glass and takes the spot on the cushions next to you. He’s so close, and he smells so nice. You take a sip of your wine to give your mouth something to do instead of blurting out any embarrassing thoughts you have.

“This is a nice place,” you say, avoiding his gaze, teasing the stem of your wine glass in your fingers. He has a small apartment with two bedrooms from what you can tell. It’s not anything fancy, but it’s clean and decorated with Joel’s various woodworking projects. He has some photos on the walls of him and Sarah, or of Tommy, or all three of them. You catch a glimpse of Sarah’s school photo and feel your stomach turn. She would be so disappointed in you. “Can’t believe it’s been so long,” you nod to Sarah’s photo, ignoring the guilt.

Joel follows your gaze and sighs. “I know. I feel bad dragging her away from you guys like that, but… There were things going on behind the scenes and Sarah and I needed to escape somewhere else.”

“Oh,” you frown. You had no idea things were that bad for them. You don’t push the subject. It’s not your business. “Well, I’m glad you’re both okay. Everyone really missed her,” you say. “We even missed you.” You joke, nudging his shoulder with your hand. Your heart thumps, spreading the noise to your ears. Are you really saying this? Oh, you are. “This is gonna sound gauche, but so many of us had a crush on you.”

You cringe for saying that, immediately wishing you could swallow the words back up. But to your surprise, Joel doesn’t look uncomfortable. He just laughs. “I know,” he declares.

“Really?” And here you thought you hid it so well.

“You guys were so obvious,” he chuckles, bringing his glass to his lips. “Plus, Sarah told me.” He takes a long drink while you process. Your face twitching in horror at what Sarah could have said.

“That little snitch,” you joke as a whole new wave of feelings steams within you. “Well, now I’m a little ashamed,” you admit.

“Don't be,” he comforts, placing a hand on your knee. Your insides buzz at the contact. “I knew the effects of young fatherhood. And I always watched out for you kids, made sure you were safe. I tried to hide the distress well,” he sighs. “God, I hope none of you thought of me as a creep.”

“No!” You assure him quickly, too quickly. Is the wine already getting to you? Your whole body feels hot. “No one ever felt that way.”

“Good, good,” he states, looking a bit uneasy. Maybe you shouldn’t have brought up this topic.

“What’s wrong?” You ask him, feeling regretful.

He shifts where he sits and hesitates before opening his mouth. “Gotta admit, right now I feel like a creep.”

“What? Why?” Your stomach drops. You did it now.

“Because I have you here in my apartment,” he pauses, setting his glass down on the coffee table. He falls back into the couch, dragging his fingers down his face. “And I’m sitting here, looking at you, wondering what you taste like.”

“Really?” You ask with a shaky breath. For some reason, your nerves have melted, and a newfound confidence washes over you. Joel’s little secret really stroked your ego. It might be time to rethink your hesitations.

Joel nods and his lips curl into a frown. “I’m a terrible person,” he says.

No, you can’t accept that. Using your new sense of courage, you scoot over to him, boldly pushing him into the couch with ease. It has to be your hormones taking over as you lick your lips and crawl onto his lap. But he doesn’t stop you.

“You’re not,” you lean into him, whispering in his ear. You test the waters by brushing your lips over his beard, kissing his cheek.

“We shouldn’t do this,” he says, but that’s all the fight he puts up. He actually relaxes under your touch. You smirk a little as his hands find home on your hips.

“Maybe,” you shrug and shift against his chest to kiss his other cheek. “Or maybe it doesn’t matter. We’re both adults right?” In a daring move, you grind your hips down on him. He doesn’t make a sound, but his eyes darken, and his fingers grip you tighter. Perfect.

“But…” he starts, groaning low in his throat as you roll your hips into him again. You watch his throat as he swallows down his noises. He bites his lip and uses his tight hold on you to steer your hips against his again, slow and steady. He’s falling apart and doesn’t have much fight in him. He never had any to begin with.

You gasp as the bulge in his jeans presses against the wetness forming in your panties. A small touch from him and you’re already unraveling. But you can’t help it. This is the man you’ve been lusting over since you were a teenager. Should this be happening? Probably not. But it feels so good.

Your mouth hovers over his, and you can feel him strain underneath you. He angles his head so his lips brush against yours, but it’s like he’s holding back, afraid to give in. You look into his shimmering hazel eyes, challenging him to do it, to take it to the next level.

He’s breathing heavily and ready to snap. You can see in his eyes that he wants this. Is he really that hung up on your age? Or is it the fact that you’re still Sarah’s friend? You decide to push it further and see what else you can get away with. You smile and grind on him again, sliding your arms over his shoulders. This time, you let out a moan. Loud, breathy, high-pitched, and perfect.

“Fuck me, Mr. Miller,” you purr, sighing in pleasure as you wiggle your hips. Your head falls back and you murmur a quiet, “please.”

That’s all he needs to hear, apparently because once that phrase leaves your lips, Joel’s fingers are tangled in your hair, pulling you into him roughly. His lips mold with yours, kissing you hard and with hunger. You moan into his mouth, skimming your hands down the front of his chest until you reach his jeans. He’s so hard underneath you. You can’t help but roll your hips into him again, drawing a startled grunt from his throat.

“Fuck, baby,” he groans, breaking the kiss. His voice is deep and raspy and it turns you on even more. You attach your lips to his neck, sinking your teeth into his skin and sucking. Your wet tongue flicks over the bite and he shivers, dropping his hands to your ass and rutting against you. A whimper leaves your throat from the contact and you sit up, licking your lips.

Joel takes in the sight of you, your eyelids heavy and hair brushed to one side, leaving your throat exposed. He grabs you by the hips and pulls you down, nipping at your throat and making you squirm. The little hairs of his beard rub against your delicate skin, and your desire for him grows. God, you want to devour every part of him.

Your fingers toy with his jeans and you glance up, meeting his stare. A teasing grin pulls at your lips as you guide your fingers to his belt. He watches with dark eyes and parted lips, huffing at your subtle touch.

His large hands roam your thighs, eager to rid you of your sweatpants. But you’re so focused on him right now that he lets you take the lead. And you’re so beautiful on top of him. He knew the moment he bumped into you on the street that he’d never be able to get you out of his head. He tried to fight it, of course. Do the right thing… But then he came to your club, saw you in that slutty little outfit, and all common sense went out the window. You grew up, and you are stunning.

“Mr. Miller,” you sigh when you finally get his belt undone. You’re biting your lip, batting those long lashes at him, and filthy thoughts pour into his brain.

“So polite,” he mumbles, bringing a hand up to your face. He softly strokes your cheek with his knuckles, stopping once he gets to your mouth. He uses his thumb to tug at your bottom lip, and your tongue pokes out, tasting him. “Baby girl, you’re so beautiful,” he compliments.

“Thank you, Mr. Miller,” you smirk, moving to the button and swiftly popping it open. He watches you undo his zipper and breathes in deep, awaiting your next moves. “Are you gonna fuck me?” You ask with a pout that shouldn’t be as cute as it is. “I really want you to fuck me.” You plunge your hand past the waistband of his briefs, hearing his breath hitch.

In response, he groans, throwing his head back onto the couch. Your delicate hand wraps around his painfully hard dick, jerking him slowly. He's so big and warm in your hand, you bite back a smile, still in shock that this is happening. But you are not complaining.

You squeeze Joel’s cock harder, applying more pressure, relishing in those delightful sounds he lets out. His tip is already leaking, flushed red, and ready to burst. You feel a little proud that you have this effect on him. You wonder who else has made him feel this way before.

His precum drips onto your fingers, and you use it to lather up his length, pumping him in your fist nice and quick. You can feel him pulse in your hand and you want so badly to take him into your mouth, to feel him, taste him. You want to suck him off until he cums down your throat, but you can tell that he’s eager to get this show on the road.

“Up,” he orders you and you listen, raising your hips so he can slide a hand into your pants. You whimper at the feeling of his rough fingers dipping into your panties. The amount of times you’ve imagined this is almost shameful. But now that he’s actually touching you like this, you feel like you’re about to faint.

“J-Joel,” you shiver and let out a cry when you feel him slip a finger into you. Out of instinct, you grind down on his hand, greedily taking what he has to offer. He chuckles, gliding his fingers over your slit. “More,” you breathe, gripping his shirt with your free hand.

“Stroke my cock baby,” he tells you since your movements have faltered. Hearing those words come from him turns you to mush. So you do as he says, picking up the pace of your hand once more. You feel him slide another finger past your folds, fucking into you fast and without mercy. “So wet for me,” he murmurs in your ear. “That’s fucking hot.”

You don’t want this moment to end. His fingers make you feel full and satisfied and he knows just how to work them. Your toes curl, and you can feel yourself about to cum already, but you don’t want to. Not yet. You need to feel him inside of you. Or you’ll lose your damn mind.

“Please fuck me,” you beg, feeling his body shake under your touch. Your lips find his again, capturing him in a bruising kiss as you rock against his hand. You gasp, and Joel takes the opportunity to flick his tongue into your mouth against your own, tasting you, memorizing your flavor. You taste so fucking sweet.

“Stand up, darlin’,” he breathes when you break the kiss. He brings his glistening fingers to his lips, sucking them clean, finally tasting you. That's an image you'll remember for the rest of your life. “I want you to ride me,” he says.

You groan, those words sending warmth to your core. Your lower tummy burns with desire, and you follow his orders, standing up on shaky legs. He helps you undress, pulling your shirt off while you shake off your pants and underwear. You work on your bra, watching Joel remove his shirt and pull his jeans down enough to let his cock spring free.

You feel like you should feel shy standing before him completely naked, but this is nothing after him seeing you earlier. Rather than feeling shy, you feel empowered and sexy. So when Joel grabs you by the hips, you let him, staring him down as you comfortably move on his lap.

He holds his dick as you guide yourself onto him, sighing breathily as you sink onto him and he stretches you out. Your eyes roll back, shifting your position to take all of him. He fills you perfectly, and you take a second to appreciate just how good he feels without even moving. “Oh, Joel,” you mumble.

“God damn,” he groans, bucking his hips up into you. The sensation shocks you back to life, and you grip his shoulders, hard and firm, leaving little crescent marks from your nails. You almost collapse as you bounce on top of him, his dick hitting that spot inside of you instantly. “That’s it, baby. Take it,” he moans out, your name on the tip of his tongue.

One of his hands slides up your back, and he glances down between you, watching you move your hips and take his cock deep inside your pussy. His other hand reaches up, grabbing your tits. You watch as his tongue swipes across his lips, and it spurs you on, picking up your speed.

“You’re s-so good,” you moan, tossing your head back, feeling every inch of his thick cock slide into you. “Fuck, Joel, fuck me.” You can’t believe this is happening. You can’t believe he’s so willing and eager to fuck you. You can’t believe it feels this amazing. Lies, yes you can. Joel’s a fucking god, fucking you so good you see stars behind your eyelids.

Your hands fall back, bracing yourself on his knees. You roll your hips slowly into his and he reciprocates, brushing that sweet little bundle of nerves inside of you, burying himself deep in your tight cunt. Your actions are sluggish, but hot as fuck, and he feels so fucking fine thrusting into you. The look of need in his eyes makes you melt. He’s enjoying this just as much as you are.

Joel appreciates the view of your tits bouncing as you ride his cock. It’s a scene he never imagined, but it’s one he wants to see again and again, and yeah, again. “You look good, baby girl,” he comments, grabbing your hips and slamming your tired body down onto him. “Look so good taking my cock. Feel good, too. This pussy was made for me, wasn’t it?”

“Yes, yes,” you nod, agreeing with him. But you would say yes to whatever he asked you right now. You are fucking Joel Miller. Your brain is practically toast. “I’m close, Joel,” you warn him, clawing at his chest. His sweaty body is hot under your touch and the fact that you made him this way pushes you closer to cumming.

His hips snap up into you, making your body jerk and crumble against him. He grabs the back of your hair and tugs your head up, pressing sloppy kisses to your neck, cheek, and then your lips. Your tongues meet in a messy tangle, moaning into each other’s mouths, and that heat pooling in your stomach grows.

“Fuck, just like that,” he grunts as you clench around him. He falls back against the couch, wrapping an arm around your waist and holding you in place as he fucks up into you. “You wanna cum?” He purrs. “Wanna cum for me? Show me how good I make you feel.”

“P-please,” you whimper. “Make me feel so g-good,” you stutter out.

“Mr. Miller fucks you good, doesn’t he?” Joel taunts, brushing his thumb over your clit.

“Oh, god,” you groan. He’s so fucking sexy. Who gave him the right?

“Cum for me, princess,” he whispers in your ear and that’s enough. Joel barely has to touch you and you're cumming, hard, crying out his name in pathetic gasps as he fucks you through your climax. Your entire body is sensitive from your orgasm ripping through you, and every feeling is amplified.

You're shaking as Joel picks up his speed, pounding into you hard and fast. His breath is hot in your ear, and you can tell he’s close by the way his hips stutter. “You’re gonna make me cum, sweetheart. Can I cum inside you? Can I fill you up? I wanna see you leaking with my cum.”

“Oh, fuck, Joel, yes,” you breathe and weakly push yourself up. Your hands lazily stroke his chest, moving your hips in exhausted circles, but he’s close. He gives your ass one sharp slap before he cums, shooting his seed deep inside of you. His warm cum fills you, covering your walls, making you writhe in ecstasy.

Your heavy breathing mixes with his, filling the room with sounds of passion. You’re absolutely spent as you climb off of him, falling onto the couch beside him. You look down at yourself, smiling a little as his cum dribbles down your thighs. You feel good and as you take a glance at Joel, you can tell he feels the same.

“So,” you say quietly, tracing your finger over the bare skin of your stomach.

“So,” he adds, looking over at you. A lopsided grin finds his lips and he leans closer. “Never thought that would happen.”

“Same,” is all you manage to squeak out. Warmth blossoms on your face and you mentally curse at yourself. Now you’re gonna blush? Get over it.

“I’m thinking you should probably spend the night,” he says to your delight and surprise. “We have more catching up to do.”

Masterlist

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