Better Left Unsaid

He has that look, you know, that perfect everything-in-the-right place look: the suit, the steel-rimmed glasses, the conservative tie, the neatly trimmed mustache, the gray, receding hairline and the slight paunch. Sitting next to him at the dentist’s office, unable to concentrate on the magazine in my lap which does nothing to distract me from my mortal fear of dental work, I look at his legs – crossed, slightly meaty thighs, neatly encased in dark grey worsted.

I lean over, until my mouth is an inch or so from his ear and whisper, “Fuck me, Daddy.”

No.

I don’t do that. I want to but I don’t. Beyond the fact that any sort of sexual proposition is inappropriate in a dentist’s office, there’s the outrageously perverse implication of the words themselves. Above all, and playing havoc with my fantasy, is the absurdity of a forty-year old woman delivering that sort of line.

My gaze slides back to the magazine, but my mind meanders over his knees and wonders, idly, what kind of a spanking he’d deliver.

I glance at his hands, folded carefully in his lap. They’re large and rather soft looking. They’d feel wonderful sliding over my ass, once he’d smacked it to a nice, glowing red. Long, well manicured fingers – just perfect for…

Stop it, stop it, stop it!

I clear my throat, turn the page of the magazine and cross my legs in a completely unnecessary attempt to block him from reading my thoughts.

Because daddies know what bad little girls are thinking. Furthermore, they can tell instinctively when your panties are slightly moist and getting wetter. And, without even touching them, they are reliably aware that your nipples are turning into achingly hard little nubs beneath your bra.

Of course, what makes them so disapproving of that sort of thing is that knowing what a tremendously filthy little girl you are makes their cocks uncomfortably hard. If you squirm while sitting on their lap, or sigh in that very telling way, they can’t help themselves.

And then, of course, it’s the slippery slope, isn’t it? They have no choice but to give you a good spanking.

Dragging me across his lap, he ceremoniously pulls up the hem of my skirt and wrenches down my panties. Surveying the territory only momentarily, he brings his big, flat palm down onto my right ass-cheek with a loud smack.

At first, it’s almost impossible not to squeal. I bite my lip hard. But a few more deliciously stinging smacks and I forget all about squealing and moan instead. His right hand has a firm grip on the back of my neck as his left does the honours. Beneath me, my covered nipples press painfully into his thigh and I imagine how much more delicious it would be if I could feel the scratchy wool of his trousers against them. Just the thought of raking my sensitive nipples over the fabric brings me close to coming.

“Mr. Greaves. The dentist will see you now,” chirps the receptionist.

For a moment, I’m in a panic. I wait to see if this man sitting next to me, the one I’ve mentally taken such liberties with, is Mr. Greaves. But he isn’t.

Because that one last smack makes me clutch at his leg and whimper, “Daddy, please!”

“Please what, princess?”

“Please, it burns!”

His hand is soft, just as I knew it would be, and he caresses my reddened skin and slides the tips of his fingers between my cheeks and down, casually probing the wet mess that my cunt has become.

“But you seem to like it so much,” he says, teasingly. And teasingly, he burrows his middle finger between the slick folds of my cunt, grazing my clit.

My body shudders in his lap and, being the filthy little slut I am, I ease my thighs apart encouragingly and mew sweetly. I do this because I know exactly what effect it will have. And predictably, in that way only fantasies can be, I feel the urgent bulge of his cock grow and nudge my torso.

“Oh, baby, why are you so wet?” he asks gruffly, a bit like a papa bear would ask who’s been sleeping in his bed.

Unable to think of a good reply, I squirm a little in his lap, until I can unzip his trousers and wrestle his fully erect cock out of his clothing. When at a loss for words, a really filthy little girl needs to keep her mouth busy. Clutching his dick in my hand, I cover the head of it with my mouth and moan. This is by far the best response to a difficult question. Sucking greedily, I manage to get most of it into my mouth. I’m recieving a lot of encouragement to do this, too; his fingertip has begun to draw slow, lazy circles around my clit, and his thumb is pushing in to my wet, hot passage.

“That’s it,” he says, pumping his hips shallowly. “Suck it all in, baby.”

“Excuse me,” says the receptionist, who has snuck up while my mind was elsewhere and is now standing right in front of me, looking down. “Are you Miss Soames?”

It takes me a moment to mentally check my face for signs of drool. “Um…yes. That’s me.”

“Your appointment was for five?”

“Yup.”

She has the decency to look embarrassed since it is now six-thirty. “We’re running a little late as you can see. I’m afraid we’re going to have to reschedule your appointment for tomorrow. Yours too, I’m afraid,” she says, addressing the man sitting next to me.

Get your lecherous gaze off my Daddy, you bitch!

“I can’t come tomorrow,” I reply.

This is actually a lie. I could come tomorrow, but I don’t want to have to get up and leave in the middle of my fantasy. I glance over at my neighbour.

Who is holding my head, pushing it gently down onto his throbbing, and leaking cock.

“Oh, yes, baby. Good girl. Suck it for Daddy.”*

He exhales in noisy resignation. “Well, what times do you have available? I can’t make it in the morning.”

I’m pretty sure you could, if I teased you enough.

“We’ve got a slot open at three-thirty,” the receptionist says helpfully, ignoring my reply completely.

*You competitive little cow. Your slot’s probably open 24/7 but I bet you can’t suck cock worth a damn.

“I suppose that will have to do.”

The woman turns her bureaucratic, beady little eyes back to me. “And what about you? How about Wednesday – say, eleven?”

“I guess so. Wednesday.” I close the magazine, grab my purse, and stand up.

When I get to the door of the office, he’s holding it open for me. “I hate dentists,” he confides. “I was all ready to submit to his torture, and then… Well.” He sighs and shrugs his shoulders. They’re wonderfully broad.

I was all ready to submit to your torture, but they cancelled the appointment.

We walk to the elevator together and I press the call button. “I hate them too. I have to sit there waiting and pretend I’m some place else, just to keep my mind off it.”

“Oh?” He smiles and chuckles. “Where do you go?”

“I…” I hesitate. Part of me really wants to tell him where I go, and part of me knows he’ll freak right out. Still, I’m probably never going to see this man again. Does it really matter? I take a breath. “Do you really want to know?”

He smiles again. “Yes, actually. I really do. Of course, if it’s personal, you don’t have to tell me.”

I giggle inanely. “Oh, it’s personal alright.”

You have no idea how personal. Your fingers were getting very personal indeed.

He shrugs again and nods his head. “Fair enough.”

The elevator arrives empty and we enter it. He hits the lobby button.

But still, that filthy little girl part of me wants to tell him, wants him to know. I want to see the look on his face when I say the words. “No… I’ll tell you. But I need to whisper it.”

A broad smile grin across his face and his eyebrows rise. “There’s no one here but you and me.”

“Yeah, but still. I have to whisper it. Okay?”

“Okay,” he says with good humour, and stoops a little so I can reach his ear.

I lean over, quickly pouring the whole of the fantasy I’ve just had into his ear. I watch his face as I whisper, expecting a look of shock and utter revulsion, expecting him to draw back, as if stung by some awful, poisonous insect. But he doesn’t. Even as I finish telling him, and step back, he remains stooped. His eyes close and the smile that was previously on his face changes to something else – something completely unreadable.

The elevator chimes and the doors slide open. I rush out, leaving him behind, frightened to find out what the expression means.

* * *

‘Love is Blue’ played on a tinny, electronic keyboard.

They have awful muzack on in the waiting room. Some insane office planner probably thought it would be soothing, but it isn’t. I sip my cup of Starbucks, and page through a truly gripping magazine story on the over-prescription of anti-depressants to seniors.

“Mrs. Wheatley. The dentist will see you now,” calls the receptionist.

It’s just gone eleven and they’re already running late again. I recross my legs and keep on reading. The article is actually rather interesting. Apparently half the senior citizens in homes are on some sort of happy drug.

I’m doing my very best to keep my mind off the sound of the dentist’s drill which has a nasty way of piercing through walls. My mind drifts away down the institutionally green corridors of an old age home. Cackles and hoots of drug-induced euphoria are emanating from every door I pass.

Now Martha, put your clothes back on or we’ll have to give you a whacking with the slipper. Oh, no. Not the slipper! George, stop that. You leave Martha’s breasts alone!

Orderly, Orderly! Look at meeee!

No, Ethel. Please! We don’t do that sort of thing to hair brush handles, do we now.

I look up as, out of the corner of my eye, a dark shape takes the seat next to me. My heart stops beating for a frighteningly long moment. It’s him. I give him a pleasant ‘hey-there-what-a-coincidence’ smile and begin quiet, mental cardiac resuscitation.

He smiles back and turns his head, looking straight ahead at the receptionist’s counter. I do the same. As if waiting for a dentist to probe your pain centres isn’t bad enough, sitting next to the man I so recently spilled my perverted guts to is excruciating.

Well it’s done. I can’t take it back now. And, anyway, what the hell is he doing here today? His appointment was for yesterday afternoon. No, I’m not going to get all worked up about it. Well, I probably could, if he’d let me sit in his lap.

“I thought your appointment was for yesterday. Did they bump you again?” I ask, still looking straight ahead.

“Nope.”

“Follow-up work?”

“No.”

“Oh. Okay,” I say warily.

“Actually, I was hoping to see you.” His voice is casual.

“Really?” I do my best to keep my voice casual, too. But it’s not working. “And why’s that?”

He clears his throat. I can tell that he’s uncomfortable and he’s still not looking at me. “We had an interesting conversation last time we met.”

As much as I know try not to, I blush bright red. “Oh, really?” The question comes out sounding like a bad actor trying to sound innocent.

“Really.” He leans back a little in his chair, crossing his arms over his suit jacket. “I’d like to continue the discussion, if you’re willing.”

“Miss Soames? The dentist will see you now.”

Fuck, fuck, fuck.

“…I have to go,” I stutter, reaching blindly for the purse at my feet. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t worry. I’ll wait,” he says, reading my mind.

* * *

“Doesn’t it bother you?”

“What?”

“That I’m a middle-aged woman. Doesn’t that spoil the fantasy somewhat?” I ask, feeling rather stupid now, standing on the irredeemably beige carpet of an irredeemably beige hotel room.

“No.” His back is towards me as shrugs off his jacket and lays it neatly over the ubiquitous hotel room armchair. “Does it bother you that I’m not your father?”

I laugh; I can’t help it. “I’ve never had a single ounce of attraction for my father in my life. This is… well… I don’t really know what it is.”

He turns to look at me. “You weren’t ever abused or anything, were you?”

“No. Absolutely not. Never.”

He looks relieved. “Good. That part was bothering me a little.”

I wander over to the bed and sit on the edge of it. “And you? Have you ever had an overwhelming desire to mess around with your daughter?”

“Actually, I don’t have any children. But I understand what you’re asking.” He sits down on the bed beside me at a discrete distance. “Look, I don’t even like young women. I mean adult young women. They’re just too… Well, I guess you don’t need imagination when you’re young, do you?”

I look at him, slightly uncomfortable. “What’s the deal then?”

He gives me that shrug, the one that makes his big shoulders roll. “I could ask you the same thing. Are you sure you want to psychoanalyze this? Or…” He reaches out a hand and covers mine, grasping it, pulling it towards him. “Would you rather just come here and sit on my lap.”

Grinning a little, I move over, tentatively settling myself on his legs, caught between a sense of utter absurdity and a the electric feeling of overwhelming arousal. His arm slips around my waist.

“Mmm. That feels good.” Removing his glasses, he holds me tight as he leans over, putting them on the bedside table.

Just the sensation of being held and moved is arousing. Suddenly, a strange giddiness sweeps over me. “Yes. Yes it does.” I wrap an arm around his neck, and tug his tie loose.

He looks at me, and for the first time, I notice that his eyes are big and warm and brown. Somewhere in there is a sliver of sternness that sends a delightful shiver up my spine. Warmer still is the hand he puts on my knee, sliding it upwards, beneath my skirt. I squirm, I can’t help it, and before he even reaches my crotch, I can feel his cock, stiffening, pushing into my hip.

“What colour panties?” he asks, running his fingertips under the leg elastic of them, burrowing.

“White.”

“Lovely. Just right for the occasion.” His fingers dip between the folds of my pussy, already soaking. I’ve been soaking since I left the dentist’s office. “My, my. What a slutty little girl you are. You’re all sticky.”

My hand, which has been lying uselessly in my lap, worms its way between my hip and his cock, cupping it. My thighs open. As he slides a long finger into me, I moan and begin to unzip him.

“Do you like it? Do you like Daddy’s cock, baby girl?” His fingers drill me, stroking into me, his thumb on my clit.

“Yes. I do,” I whimper, fumbling into his shorts and curling my hand around the shaft, stroking it. “God, I do.”

“Say it, baby girl,” he growls. The hand at my waist drifts down, sliding over and squeezing my ass firmly. “Say it.”

I press my lips against his ear and whisper. “Fuck me, Daddy.”

  40 comments for “Better Left Unsaid

  1. Heidi
    December 1, 2009 at 5:20 pm

    Hi,

    I love this short its simple smart and tantalizing. But i have been missing a story that i cannot find on the site any more. I forget the title but it is a bout a girl who’s psychologist gives her the number to a man who can provide her with a type of therapy, he turns out to have been an ex priest etc et. it is an absolutely amazing story that really got to me. Have you published it? if so please send me the name of the book or publication, I think about that story from time to time and miss being able to revisit it.

    • December 2, 2009 at 1:17 pm

      It’s called the illustrated teacher, and I will put it back up.

      • Heidi
        January 24, 2010 at 8:54 am

        Not to be impatient but I’m still missing The Illustrated Teacher. Also wanted to tell you that Breach is very very good!! Just finished reading it.

    • Tonya
      January 30, 2017 at 1:54 pm

      Very well written and sensual

  2. miss_m
    March 14, 2010 at 11:27 pm

    Woww, the story is erotically smart! You are very, very good at plotting (and of course, at using beautiful words!). Like for Better Left Unsaid, you just twisted common tales of ‘meeting of two strangers’ and ‘fantasizing about fatherly spanking’ into something entirely new. It shows us when fantasy (wicked naughty fantasy! Ha!) sets apart from reality, and how fantasy controls reality. Although I too felt interrupted while reading about the receptionist re-appointing our girl, the scene portraits that every well. The fact that she is a middle aged woman is smart too!

  3. mermaid
    June 2, 2010 at 8:41 pm

    I love this story. The classic fantasy turns to reaility is usually written with a degree of suspended reality, but yours is grounded and palpable. The details are wonderful. I love the moment when they get back to the room and her reason tries to dissect what is happening….”are you really sure you want to psychoanalyze this?” it’s a great pivot point. It captures that moment of conflict we all have between fantasy and reality. When she plunges back in, head first, it is all the more erotic….

  4. Eva
    September 4, 2011 at 7:45 am

    I just stumbled across your site a few hours ago and have been completely engrossed in your work I love it!!! You are amazing and so very talented!! I have started reading this story and a few others, I am having a little trouble with it there are a bunch of these €™ marks and others like them going through some of your stories are they “water marks” or cc protection? Again you are amazing and I hope you are able to write again soon big hugs!

    • September 4, 2011 at 8:41 am

      Ack, I’m sorry. It happened when I transferred my files over from one server to another. I’ll try to seek out the stories it is on and fix them.

  5. Thalia
    September 4, 2011 at 2:22 pm

    this story is lean and purposeful. It pivots neatly from 2 moments of courage– when the narrator confides her fantasies to the man, and when the man returns to her.

    She’s spinning lurid and detailed fantasy about a middle aged man in a dentist waiting room!! That’s transgressive– normality juxtaposed with turgid genitals. Smashing the absurd stereotype that men think about sex 3 times a minute and women think about sex three times a week.

    I linked back from your recent post– it looks like you had “smart quotes” and “smart apostrophes” in the original text, and the font doesn’t support. Makes it difficult to read, I had to spring from word to word like a skeeter bug.

    • September 4, 2011 at 3:23 pm

      I’ve gone through and fixed the punctuation. Thanks for diligently reading through it despite the weird characters. (er, not the literary ones)

  6. Morag
    September 5, 2011 at 4:57 pm

    I haven’t read this one before.

    It REALLY works for me! Thanks, RG. 🙂

  7. Trixibelle
    March 30, 2012 at 6:16 pm

    Oh man. I have just discovered this website and I am sooooooo happy I have. This story just made me very, VERY happy.

  8. Laura
    March 2, 2013 at 9:42 pm

    Absolutely love your work, this one and the dinner party series are my faves! You are a very talented writer 🙂

    • Harry
      October 18, 2013 at 12:39 pm

      Laura, I quite agree with you… both the stories you mention are my favorites also, perhaps it is the common theme (at least at the start of The Dinner Party).

  9. September 24, 2013 at 11:23 pm

    I LOVED this story. Does anyone know of others with a similar theme or subject matter?

  10. Dave
    January 19, 2014 at 2:31 pm

    Wow, this story has some great mechanisms to build tension and energy… the contrast between the fantasy in the woman’s mind and the mundane progression of events in the waiting room is a great contrast… then the tension of her wanting to tell him and finally telling but leaving is a real roller coaster ride. Then the boldness of the man to find her on Wed. and continue waiting is a great prelude to the actual sex. Well done – the kink itself is one of my favorites 🙂

  11. lacilove
    January 24, 2014 at 9:06 am

    Loved this, age play is a major turn on for me. I like the way it was written and how the main character goes in and out of reality

  12. Pea
    March 15, 2014 at 11:11 pm

    Starting the story, I was tired, achey & a little melancholy..Saturdays are not good days for me. Though now, at the end, I’m tired, achey & incredibly turned on.. being just two years younger ish than Miss Soames, I completely idenitify with her fantasty/reality. It also makes me realise I just don’t read enough of your work.

    Pea xo

  13. Heath
    April 20, 2014 at 3:19 pm

    Haha I feel like i’m in wonderland here, all wide eyed. There’s such a big difference between erotica and porn. It really turns me on going through peoples minds like this, I can’t help but imagine what’s going on in the minds of women I know. I agree with the above replies, you’re a fantastic writer and deserve to be published.

  14. Anastaria
    July 5, 2014 at 4:08 pm

    i just had some of the best in my life, having just read this i want it again already

  15. Jose
    March 26, 2015 at 4:59 pm

    🙂

  16. Luscious
    May 27, 2015 at 3:33 pm

    This story is everything I look for in erotica. I love calling my husband “Daddy” so reading it gets me hot, but the incestual ones on other sites are uncomfortable to read and usually go too far.

    Thank you for sharing your creativity 🙂

  17. Angel
    June 1, 2015 at 10:48 pm

    Beautiful x
    Written well and made me want to be her x

  18. small man
    June 12, 2015 at 10:51 pm

    Thank you so much for this incredibly erotic tale. You work the taboo fantasy beautifully. You maintain a very effective level of suspense from the outset and the shock when she apparently whispers ‘Fuck me, Daddy’ to the complete stranger is shudderingly good. My heart is still racing and certain other physical signs of arousal are persisting!

  19. Michelle
    July 3, 2015 at 2:41 am

    Really enjoyed love going back and forth between reality fantasy

  20. WillDarcy
    July 20, 2015 at 12:57 am

    I really loved the juxtopasition of the waiting room with the fantasy. Your writing is really excellent. Short stories have tgier own special challenges and I find across all your stories ( I’ve read about a dozen) the ability to wrap me in enough of thier world that I’m invested. Thank you for sharing.

  21. Steph
    September 13, 2015 at 9:57 am

    Beautiful!! I love that someone has put into words that daddy/daughter erotic play isn’t about a woman wanting to fuck her dad.
    I really enjoy your work. 🙂

  22. JS
    October 23, 2015 at 2:25 am

    Excellent story. You are a very talented writer.

  23. Christian
    December 6, 2015 at 2:10 pm

    Do you ever consider writing porns? Your dialogue is amazing. I love the idea of sex within a fantasy, and I really like the reality of trying to live out a wild fetish and realizing it made way more sense in your head. I think this would be charming with two competent actors split into two episodes. I’d like to paint a picture for you.

    Imagine a porn where the main characters never even have sex, they just fantasize about it while getting to know each other at a socially acceptable pace. In the first episode they have a completely innocent and relatable, occasionally awkward first date, then it cuts to him undressing her with his eyes in the middle of the restaurant. Meanwhile she’s fantasizing about blowing him under the table while he orders.

    It would be her under the table, which is much more spacious than you would have imagined, giving him head while ambient music plays and people talk in the background. The scene shifts to split screen as the waiter approaches their table and takes his order, making her stop sucking so she can listen in. The guy plays it cool, saying she went to the bathroom. He tries to guess her order as she directs him through subtle blowjob cues until he gets the right one.

    After a while he picks up the menu, looks down and says, “Oh shit, my ex, Mindy, is here. She’s coming to this table!” The girl shrugs it off without stopping. Awkward catching up ensues, but he plays it off pretty well until right when Mindy says, “Anyway, it was nice seeing you. You’re looking super good.” She bends over, showing her cleavage, and he cums in the girl’s mouth, making her bump her head loudly on the table. A look of disgust spreads across her face and the couple bursts into laughter before the girl remembers to finish the job. He says, “Yeah, nice catching up with you, Mindy.”

    Snap back to reality and the waitress is leering at her, asking what she wants for dinner. Skip to her front door, he says he had a good time and apologizes if he seemed a little spacey. She smiles and he gives her a kiss then scurries off, leaving her on the doorstep.

    Fin

  24. JudyLee
    January 4, 2016 at 8:36 pm

    A classic fantasy. Well written and erotic. I was relieved when it became reality. Judy

  25. BC
    February 21, 2016 at 5:39 am

    Very erotic, detailed and imaginative

  26. Rebecca
    June 27, 2016 at 6:26 am

    I want sure that I was going to enjoy this story as I’m not typically a fan of the daddy/littler girl scene. However, your imagery pulled me in and wouldn’t let go. Well done.

  27. Maggie
    August 15, 2016 at 12:11 pm

    I love this!
    I love that it got to go beyond fantasy. Great job!!

  28. Alexandria
    January 8, 2017 at 2:35 am

    I love your writing. You are so dynamic. Well done.

  29. J
    January 22, 2017 at 7:04 am

    This was perfect. Age play (daddy and his good/bad girl) has always been among my hottest fantasies, but it isn’t one I’ve ever felt comfortable sharing with anyone else. Like your main character, I am a middle aged women, I have never been abused and the thought of my actual real-life father is repulsive, but I love the dynamic of the fantasy.
    Your writing style is just right. You draw the reader and build tension at just the right pace. Thank you for sharing.

  30. Rocky
    February 12, 2017 at 3:01 pm

    I am on your site for the first time and just read several of your stories. My favourite thing is somehow that they are realistic, even though of course with ghosts etc., they obviously are not real. But they are written as though they could actually happen, and I can truly imagine it. So much sex writing is boringly to the point, completely about what a man wants, and without imagination whatsoever. Sex aside, I have enjoyed the stories, and the way you don’t give away the whole cow.

  31. John
    July 3, 2017 at 3:34 am

    Hi
    I really like this one but I was wondering if you could by anyou chance publish some more of these with rough fucking. I love to mastutbate to them.
    Thansk

    • July 3, 2017 at 4:23 pm

      I think you’ll find that quite a few of my stories are pretty rough, although not the combination of ageplay and rough. For some reason, that doesn’t make innate erotic sense to me. Not to say that what appeals to you is wrong, but as I write it, it does have to feel right to me.

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