When Sara Says No

Story Info
Sara shows Dad how to chat on the internet.
11.1k words
4.7
269k
154
Share this Story

Font Size

Default Font Size

Font Spacing

Default Font Spacing

Font Face

Default Font Face

Reading Theme

Default Theme (White)
You need to Log In or Sign Up to have your customization saved in your Literotica profile.
PUBLIC BETA

Note: You can change font size, font face, and turn on dark mode by clicking the "A" icon tab in the Story Info Box.

You can temporarily switch back to a Classic Literotica® experience during our ongoing public Beta testing. Please consider leaving feedback on issues you experience or suggest improvements.

Click here
youbadboy
youbadboy
7,497 Followers

This story is an assemblage of True Stories compiled into a delicious fantasy. Please let me know what you think, and share share share what you thought, ideas. Confess. Your responses are the reason I write. Thanks.

*

I am chatting with Sara tonight.

No one is home but I am sitting in the bathroom in my robe with my laptop, the door closed and locked. A necessary precaution, considering Sara is my daughter who is in her second year in college. It's all innocent stuff, fun really. We started emailing when she started college this year cause we missed each other. Then she showed me how to chat. I must say, there's something about the anonymity of the internet.

Sara: hahaha. No. This is how I think the process goes now. The first 'no' is just a way to politely acknowledge the offer. It's almost, thank you for asking to fuck me.

Me: Polite?

Sara: Hmmm. The second 'no' means I'm thinking about it. Considering the alternatives, maybe give head but nothing else. But regardless of which way I'm leaning, I can't appear too eager.

Me: But what about just falling into bed with the boys?

Sara: You mean Hooking up?

Me: Yeah.

Sara: I'm talking about a boyfriend girlfriend thing here. Or the possibility of.

Sara: I have one friend who had a one night stand, hooking up, but THEN they started talking. Talked two hours. They're still together. Very rare.

Sara: But back to the subject at hand. Third 'no,' if it is a no, just means 'no.'

Me: So three's the magic number. Three.

Sara: Pretty much. The process goes no. no. oh, yes, right lets fuck.

Me: Well, since you've asked three times

Sara: Hahahaha

Me: And after the third no.....

Sara: If it is a no then I guess you are breaking up.

Me: So sex after two no's

Sara: Pretty much.

Sara: If after a third 'no' you ask a fourth time, you're just being obnoxious and pushy. I already told you no! Geez, can't you take no for an answer!

Sara: But if you stop after just one no, well that's just rude.

Sara: You didn't want my nasty that bad. Ha! It's a snub. Just means the offer was made out of politeness on the offering party's part. And, well, he really doesn't want you to take up on the offer anyway.

Me: I never thought of asking someone for sex as being polite.

Me: You should be a lawyer.

Sara: Ha!!

Sara: Where are you?

Me: In the bathroom.

Sara: Hahah. Again! Why you hiding??

Me: I don't know.

Sara: In your robe?

Sara: Daddy hard?

Sara: You think we being naughty or something??

I sat there looking at the screen. I still had my socks on. I felt hot. My cock was stiffening under my robe. I didn't know the answer to that one.

It was innocent. Innocent. That's what I kept telling myself....

And

That's what I wrote.

Me: Innocent.

Sara: *Blush*

Sara: Now. You want to ask me for anything?

Me: You going to say no?

Sara: At least twice.

*******************

I am fifty years old, married when I was twenty (they tell me that is too early now) and had Sara when I was thirty. Still married. We're a happy family. I was probably a little too religious, and I probably drank a little too much, but I'm better now. I would describe my life as normal and nothing, NOTHING could have prepared me for what is happening right now in my life.

I'm getting older and sit at my desk staring at a piece of paper that gets increasingly important. My lab results: TC 4,3 mmol/l, LDL 2,7 mmol/l, HDL 1,2 mmol/l and Hb 133 g/l. I confess that I am surprised that I'm in as good shape as the results indicate. My blood-pressure was 125/75 mmHg, too. Amazing considering I don't take care of myself.

My life has been charmed, and continues to be. I'm waiting for Sara again, in my office. She wants to chat. But, really, I need to back up a bit.

After Sara went to college - her first year - I missed her terribly. She came home every month or nearly so, came home for holidays. But I could not believe that part of my life was OVER. The truly best years of my life. We were close, so very close. The summer passed quickly, she stayed at home working, saving money for her Sophomore year. And suddenly it was fall, that western breeze, that slight cooling in the evening, slant in the sunlight.

When she left this time, she gave me something. Her email address with a scribbled note, "Write me. Often. I'll miss you! Love Sara."

That was 'our' beginning.

Our missives began like laundry lists, weather, daily tasks, stuff we got, who was doing what in the family. It was nothing, simple, a point of contact - and I loved it. She was there! On the other side of this glass thread. But time provided a slow and steady shift which was imperceptible to me. I believe I stopped being her father, and she stopped being my daughter. We became something that was hidden, inside us. We shared a part of us NO ONE gets to see.

The lull of the web, the anonymity, the silence of it.

I created a completely separate email address that I provided to her. An address that was for OUR correspondence only. Secret. Then, she did the same for me. The secret alone should have been a clue. But as I said the changes had been so imperceptible. Like the suns rise. Looking up at any moment and you cannot see any movement, the sun hangs stationary in a clear blue sky, but then it is noon and the sun is overhead, and then the slanting shadows....and it is night.

I do remember the email which began it all though. It had the usual chatter of the day, moments, weather, schedules. But then...

'My roommates are such slobs. I can't believe I am living in such squalor. Which is really quite amazing because believe me, they could be spending more time in their own beds.

Sara'

I bit. I honestly did not know what she meant. I emailed back a simple question that evening related to what she meant, and when I rose next morning received this reply:

'Boys' dad. Boys. This place is a brothel, a pen in a zoo. A petting zoo. I'm not like these people dad. At least I don't think I am. But, I went out tonight and I have story - for you. There's this hotel nearby with a bar. And.....Yes. Yes. I admit I have an ID, a fake ID. I didn't seek it out, but they float around here like fireflies. I was given one. But that's not the point.

I shouldn't even be telling you this. I'm a bit drunk.

I went out. Within thirty minutes Emily and I were already weaving in their chairs, dizzily drunk, giggling, when a pair of nice older gentlemen showed up, ready to buy us drinks in the lounge. Imagine that! We had a bit of conversation about whatnot ... how everyone's day had gone and hints about where the night may be going. *teehehehehe* These gentlemen were from New York. They were giving a seminar, something, investment banking blah blah blah. Alone. They were dressed well and clearly refined and articulate and funny.

It wasn't long after that we were both on our backs in their shared room with our legs in the air. I think we did a pretty good job. I could see Emily the whole time. It was surreal watching her, like seeing myself. We would look over and smile at each other. I had John, I must say he certainly enjoyed the courtesies of my mouth.'

I was feeling myself getting aroused as I read.

'As I lay on my back I began to kiss him, and then kiss his neck and chest, lay him back and kissed his arms, lick his fingers. He had a wedding ring, and then back up his arm and down his sweet enlarged belly. I slid my body against him, pulled his cock in my mouth and he came so quickly! And the amazing thing, what a turn-on, that this man was used by another woman. That he would go back to HER, and in some way I would be there too. Would he think of me as she cooed in his ear? John said his wife is shrewish, selfish and always complaining. He was lying for my sake, she was probably wonderful, I didn't care. They'd been married for a long time, didn't have children. Blah blah blah. He was seducing me, could he call? Why? He would be gone tomorrow. Oh....the poor poor man. As he was talking, I managed to bring him to arousal again with my hand, and had another little romp....Then I gave him a big wet kiss, let him play with my open mouth, and we snuggled awhile saying lovely things, until - here I am. Don't know why I'm sharing.

Wait. I can hear Emily now. She's going around asking if anyone wants to go dancing. She's prancing room to room in her underwear. It's one in the morning. Just a sec.....

I just told her no. She has that freshly fucked look, OUR secret.

I'm tired. I'm drunk. I'm just going to hit SEND and not think about what I wrote. Can't remember anyway. You want to know everything about me.

So,

I miss you Sara'

**************

This email I read over and over and over. Don't know exactly why and aside from my initial warnings, of 'Be Careful' 'You shouldn't' etc. our conversations began to focus more and more on this side of her - our - life. The secrets, hidden places. Gradually becoming a confessional.

Sara asked me a question once shortly after her email, asking if I ever cheated on Annie - my wife, her mother.

I ignored the question (even though she did not). However, her missives raised distant memories, my thoughts went back and back, to the stupidity that is being twenty. How do we survive it? I would sit in my study, in my office - remembering. She also emailed me about wanting to chat, that it is all so much more immediate, more fun, and had set up a chat account for herself, would I too? I said yes, and she sent me some software.

Well, after some software installation, settings, phone calls, many giggling fits, and me being called a Luddite, we were chatting.

The chats took the same direction our emails had, only more quickly. I have to defend myself here. It's what happens, it's the medium. This screen that can talk back to you, just a blinking cursor, anonymous, silent, alone-not-alone, teasing out your thoughts, your hidden-self.

Your secrets.

Like Being drunk, not knowing when to stop.

*************

Add to that this game we took to, while chatting.

Each of us would sit with a bottle of wine, or a bottle of vodka, or Rum, or whatever was left in the house, and starting out stone sober we would chat, while gradually take shots, or slurps and gradually inexorably become drunk. Why not blend one addiction with another? Terrible really, but it's what we did.

My confession.

We were discussing, drunkly, her visit home; and I remember commenting how weird it would be to see her now.

Sara: Why?

Me: After everything we've shared, everything we talk about now. The things I know now about you. You don't seem like Sara on this thing.

Sara: No?? What do you mean:(

Me: No. Yes.

Sara: Hahaha.

Me: You do, I mean. I don't know.

Sara: I know what you mean. Is this really you? Can't see you, touch you, hear you? Just words on a screen. You could be some slobbering eighty-year-old with a tobacco stain running down your shirt.

Me: Or a fifty-year-old drunk with wine stains on my pants

Sara: Hahaha. Well, that's true!

Me: Or a letch.

Sara: My letch.

Me: No. No.

Sara: Hey, tell you what. I want PROOF you are who you say you are.

Me: What?

Sara: Well we don't know do we. I'm coming home right?

Me: Yes.

Sara: I want you to do something when I get home.

Me: What?

*I could feel my heart rise in my throat.

Sara: Prove it's you. And we won't SAY anything.

Sara: When I come near you. Just once. I want you to put your hand right at the small of my back. Hold me there.

*I stared at the screen.

Sara: Can you do that?

Sara: Dad?

Me: Yes.

Sara: It's my favorite place. To be touched;)

Sara: I love to be touched there.

Sara: Now you know another secret about me.

Sara: Well! One of my many favorite places. Hehehe.

Me: You're terrible.

Sara: Will you do it?

Me: Ok.

Sara: You want anything?

Me: What?

Sara: Me to do anything? To prove it's me.

Me: Ummmm

Sara: Its only fair *blush*

Sara: Sometime this weekend, anytime you choose. Anything?

Me: You sure.

Me: Anything?

Sara: Well. Yes.

Me: Let me see your panties?

Sara: My panties?

Sara: You mean like on me!!!!! See my panties!!!!!!!!

Me: Yes.

Sara: OMG

Me: You don't have to.

Sara: Only once.

Me: Once.

Sara: *giggle* K.

************* When Sara came home, I didn't know where to look. She was the same person, walking down the driveway, arms out calling, "Daddy!" But I was red, blushing red. The unspoken world around us was there, Palpable. I could see she felt it too. As I squeezed her and she pressed herself to me, this moment of....un-spokeness. By the way she smiled, her self-consciousness in that moment.

I remember going into the living room and sitting in my old chair. Thinking. Thinking, 'This has to stop.' But that being the last thing I wanted. And knowing, I could not stop.

We watched TV. Mom was home all night. It was such a wonderful dinner, catching up, telling stories. That evening before turning in myself, I wanted to go into her room, but didn't. What would I say? That was not an unusual thing for me to do at all. We were changing. Our casualness, warmth, it was all there, but with another piece or place, somewhere else. Hidden. Not here.

Not anywhere at all. Our thoughts, our invisible selves. Lost.

I padded past her door that night, and into my room.

And then....

The proof. That it WAS us. It was so odd because that is all I could think about, and I am SURE that was all she could think about. From the moment she arrived, from the moment I opened my eyes that morning. Yet we said nothing, eyeing the other like a pair of chess pieces, unsure of our next move.

I didn't want to 'do' it right away, wanted to feel the pensive wait, the anticipation. Enjoy the adrenaline. I would close my eyes, imagining my hand at the small of her back - her favorite place. That I knew that all by itself was amazing.

And so I waited.

That morning she came downstairs in a white halter top, midriff showing. Not unusual, it was a warm day. Knowing what she knew though, her eyes on me as she walked into the kitchen. Her low shorts, long blonde hair already combed out, her perfect eyes, that smile, white teeth. I went up behind her as I stood by the fridge, and like one in a dream, lay the flat of my hand at the small of her back, curled my fingers and so softly caressed her bare skin. Her eyes lit up, she stiffened stood straight up, she smiled, turned to me, looked into my eyes, deeply, almost laughed. Mom was reading the paper, with toast and hot coffee.

Nothing happening in this world we see, but....

She said, "Want some?" I still had my hand on her back stroking her, touching the line of her shorts, embarrassed at her words - what they could be construed to mean.

Proof.

"Yes, yes." She held out a cup full of hot coffee and I took my hand away. I had done it. Could hear her sigh as I did, and then I stepped away, walked over to the table and sat down.

Me: "What are you going to do today?"

She: "Nothing Nothing at all. No homework. I just need to rest."

Mom: "We could go shopping sometime. I think there may be some things you need."

She: "Yes. Yes. That would be great."

*************

In the afternoon, Sara went to shower. She had been out, and it was a hot day. She liked to walk. I was working on papers, piles and piles strewn about the dining room table. She and Annie were going to go out, but she wanted to clean herself up first.

As I sat there working, she came down. Now in a light green dress, a V-neck and lots of fabric. I looked twice, the fabric was so light, willowy. It hugged her narrow waist perfectly. She had that thinness of a girl of twenty. Her long legs and long arms. Smooth skin, bright eyes. Hair still wet, the smell of shampoo.

She sat down in the living room across from me, eyeing me. Not smiling, but a grin, like a you-sick-old-man grin. But, that was just me. It's what I thought. That is what I saw.

I knew this was the moment. She was leaning back in her chair, kicking one leg over the side of the arm rest, and I watched as she bunched the fabric of the skirt in her hand. Her eyes were locked on mine. I stopped what I was doing, said nothing. I stopped breathing. My cock was so hard. Did she know? I needed to adjust myself, dared not. Did she realize the effect she was having on me? How I felt on our chats?

The way I felt as I lay in my bed at night? That my fantasies, my dreams.....had become....about her.

She gripped the fabric and lifted, higher and higher until I was looking at the crotch of her panties. Powder blue panties, she leaning back for me, letting me. I could not even tell you the look of her eyes. Fear, lust, desire, boredom.

I was watching her long legs disappear beneath the fabric of her candy apple green skirt, and the rise of fabric from between her legs. Time froze in that moment as I gazed at her. Suddenly, she dropped the hem, and smiled a little smile, turned her head away from me and then in a gradual motion slid herself to the edge of the cushion, sliding herself so the skirt rode up high, revealing herself - again - without her hands.

She just lay like that in the chair, almost flat on the cushion, legs held open, letting me see perfectly the rise of her mound, the fabric of her panties now stretching over her pussy lips. She was no more than ten feet away, sunshine streaming through the windows. Bright, every color standing out. Vibrant. The red of her lips, the cream of her skin, her green dress and powder blue panties. And...this light stain, there between her legs, a wet line right there between her open legs. I could make out the shape of her pussy, her mound, see the puffing shape of pussy hairs pressing against the fabric, this light rise at the front. A darkening of the fabric, her pussy hair coloring the fabric. I could tell it's shape, this little triangle there. The indent of her thighs at each side of the panty line. This little triangle held to her by little strips of fabric at her hip.

She sat like that for a little while longer, looking away, then pulling herself back up, sitting upright again, rose from her chair, and circled a wide circle in the room. I believe her intent was to leave, but then she changed her mind and walking over to me stood behind me awhile. I did not look back, did not know what to say. I was breathing hard.

She said in a low voice, "What you doing?"

I could scarcely speak. She lay her hand on my shoulder, leaned herself against me, I could feel her hip at my arm. I simply lay my hand at the calf of her leg, just below the knee and silently stroked her there.

"Um, these are proposals for acquisitions."

"Oh."

She did not move, and I let my hand rub her knee caps, felt her foot move open a little. Letting me touch her, facing me as I ran my hands over her legs. I stroked higher, up along her thighs and tracing my fingers on each side of her inner thighs. She leaned a little closer, held to me. I could hear her breathing now.

"And you?"

I reached higher, could feel the heat of her, to just before where I knew her panties would be. My eyes were closed, as I listened to her breathing and feeling her soft skin, imagining the color, the softness, the wetness, heat right there. I thought, 'Would she let me?'

I took my hand away. She stepped away as well.

"Just getting ready for tomorrow."

She turned, light as a feather smiling back at me, "See you."

Proof.

*************

Sara: I want to ask you something.

Me: Ok.

Sara: Promise to answer.

Sara: Did you ever cheat on mom?

Me: I don't know if I should talk about this.

Sara: It means you have.

Sara: I'm curious I want to know.

youbadboy
youbadboy
7,497 Followers