Present Day 

Kendrick was dreaming, and it was a nice dream. He was driving in a convertible. Every autumn when the weather started to cool, he’d start wanting a convertible. This dream reminded him of that wish again. Maybe this year, he’d finally—

The dream shifted, and now he’s in bed, and she was snuggling up against him from behind. She was so soft… he could feel her full breasts pressing against his back. He thought about turning over and taking her once again. Again?

Who?

When did…?

Who’s hugging me? He wondered. A soft hand rested lightly on his shoulder. It felt so real…

He opened his eyes in the darkness, disappointed that the dream had ended. He realized that the hand still rested on his shoulder. The soft form still pressed against him from begin.

Suddenly awake, he started to turn over, but delicate hands stopped him, holding him in place facing away. He didn’t feel skin…  she must be wearing pajamas.

“Wha—?” he began.

“Shhhhh… It’s okay. You’re dreaming,” she whispered.

“Why are you in here?” he whispered. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing’s wrong,” she whispered. He could feel her lips nuzzling against the back of his neck. Her whispered voice was right at his ear as she said, softer than thought, “Everything’s fine. Just go back to sleep. Shhhhh…”  The soft hand on his shoulder stroked down his arm to his fingers as she soothed him, like a mother comforting a sleepy child. His eyes closed, and again he slept.

A few hours later, he woke up like normal. He was in bed alone. Did that really happen? He slept naked. Had his daughter been in bed with him while he was naked? As he shuffled to the bathroom to start the day, it seemed more and more like it was just a very real, albeit very pleasant, dream. He pulled on some soft shorts and his bathrobe and headed to the kitchen for some coffee.

His daughter Kiersten was already there, sipping her usual iced coffee while scrolling through her phone. She saw him come in and smiled, “Good morning.”

“Hey, sweetie,” he responded, pouring a cup. He looked at her intently, trying to see if there was anything amiss. She felt his gaze and looked back at him. He started, “Last night, did you…?” his words just petered out.

“What?” she asked. “Did I do something crazy in a dream?”

Looking at her, she didn’t act like a girl who’d snuck into her dad’s bed, held him, and then disappeared. He finally figured it had to be a dream, and let it go. “Nothing,” he answered. “I’ll be better after coffee.” He sat at the table with her, sipping his morning brew.

She nonchalantly nibbled her toast, and said, “You okay? You look, well, weird.”

“Nothing, sweetie,” he finally replied.  “Just odd dreams. Never mind. Anyway, what are you up to today?”

“Not much. Just work. Janie and I might grab a drink after, maybe. That’s about it.” She finished her toast and put her dishes in the sink. She got up and kissed him on the cheek. “Gotta go. See you tonight!”

“Love you!” he called to her as she walked away to her room. He sat there, sipping his coffee, trying to reassemble to dream from earlier. It was a pretty nice dream.

At 44 years old, Kendrick Cayman was a good man, an upstanding man, a bona-fide catch. Decently tall, he had a graceful, lithe build, with an easy, lopsided smile, eyes that looked ready to laugh, and an incongruous cut on his cheek that suggested the presence of a former bad boy. All wrapped up in a dark-chocolate candy shell. Everywhere he went, feminine eyes tracked his every move. But as a single father, he had no time for any of them. But he wasn’t always so virtuous.

Back in college, he’d man-whored his way through four years of school, happily fucking anything with a pulse and a pussy. He’d been literally trying to put up the numbers before he left college and had to submit to the real world, which often came with just one pussy at a time. Or so he’d been told. He was gorgeous, his degree had landed him a lucrative job in IT. He owned a great apartment in the heart of downtown and a sweet Audi that he only drove sparingly. Apparently, the police felt that an Audi that nice driven by a man that dark just HAD to be stolen, so they regularly found an excuse to check it out. Other than that little inconvenience, he had the world by the balls and intended to squeeze it into submission. It all worked great until he was 26.

*****

18 years ago

“Mmmmm, that’s it, girl,” moaned Kendrick as he leaned back against the leather sofa.

His dark cock looked so good sliding in and out of her ruby red lips, her slim white fingers wrapped around him as she slurped hungrily on the head. She moaned appreciatively as she felt his fingers caressing her face, tracing her lips where they joined. Releasing her hand from around him, she slid her face down to the base, taking him into her throat. She increased her suction as she moved him in and out of her mouth. He let her lead, and sat back and let her fuck her own face against him.

After a few minutes of this, he warned her, “Babe, I’m ‘bout to blow!”

She simply moved to the head and sucked even harder, trying to pull every drop from his balls, making him cry out as she gladly swallowed each volley of his thick essence. She didn’t lose so much as a drop.

As he quickly recovered, he murmured, “Damn, girl! You’re incredible!”

Kendrick knew the value of praise for a job well done. It’s one of the things that earned him so many repeat performances. “Skills that good always make me really hungry,” he added.

“Oh, now, you’re hungry?” she asked, her eyes twinkling with mirth. “Should I be a good girl and make you a sandwich or something?” she asked, giggling.

“Hmmmm…” Kendrick said, as if weighing the decision of what his next meal should be.

He kissed her mouth deeply, despite traces of his own cum still lingering on her palate. He let his mouth blaze a trail down her petite, toned body, past her flat abs, down to the fine, silky hair between her slim thighs. He inhaled her aroma deeply… she smelled like cinnamon and flowers, and Kendrick thought he had never smelled anything so good.

“No, baby girl, I think I’ll find something to eat right here.”

With that, he opened his mouth wide and covered her whole small pussy, sucking it as if he was drowning. His athletic tongue writhed in and out of her snatch, and he swallowed her juices as fast as he could. Her tiny little pussy was just about the wettest he’d ever eaten, and he didn’t want to waste a drop of her tangy, aromatic essence. He also focused attention on her tiny, tight little starfish. She moaned loudly at the unexpected knock on her back door. It was so tight that it took a few minutes of dedicated pushing against her there to even get the tip of his tongue past her sphincter. Once he did, he was immediately rewarded.

She cried out loud, “THERE! YES! RIGHT THERE! LICK ME THERE! OOOOOOHHHH!!!”

His tongue inside her asshole; his delicate fingers strumming a song on her clit; his finger fucking in and out of her gash; all combined had her circling the stars. After only a few minutes of his assaulting every part of her sex, she screamed, and squirted her orgasm all over his face and neck. He drank as much as he could from the source and licked up the rest from her still trembling tummy.

Without missing a beat, he slipped his cock back into her for a second time and gazed into her lovely Asian eyes looking up at him. He could see it in her eyes, she wasn’t used to being worshiped like he’d been doing, and he knew if he wasn’t careful, she might catch real feelings for him. Would that be so bad?

As he rode her tight little body to their third (fourth?) cum of the afternoon, he heard her cry out, “Ooohhh, Kendrick, don’t ever stop fucking me, okay? Fuck me forever!!”

And she tensed up and groaned as she felt him again pouring himself into her.

They rolled off the sofa together onto the floor. She kissed him deeply.

“That was amazing,” she gushed. “My pussy has never been so happy! What’s all this crap I hear about black guys not eating pussy?” she laughed.

He chuckled lightly and said, “Yeah, that’s just a lie white guys put out there to try to slow us down.”

"Well, I can testify that that is simply not true at all,” she said, laughing. She glanced at the clock. It was almost three o’clock on a Tuesday afternoon. “Shit!” she exclaimed. “This was fun, babe, but I gotta run. School’s out at 3:30. Gotta pick up my son. Call me later?”

“We’ll see,” Kendrick answered noncommittally.

Serena wasn’t offended. She knew that Kendrick Cayman made no promises and told no lies. The women traipsing through the revolving door of his affection had to accept that all they could reasonably expect was a really good time for one night. She threw on her soccer-mom office clothes, kissed him on the cheek again, and was out the door before the kiss dried on his skin.

Not even 3:00, and he was done for the day!

Serena Park was the office manager at McAlister & Cresh. They were a client of Kendrick’s employer, WaxGen. WaxGen created customized, proprietary software solutions designed to clients’ specs. Kendrick’s team went to customers’ sites and implemented the products. He’d been on site for two weeks now, and officially, today was a training session for Serena. They got some actual work done earlier that morning, then he took his client out to lunch, and next thing he knew she was spread out on his sofa, and he was facedown between her toned legs performing cunnilingual wizardry on her sweet-tasting cooch with the fine, soft hair.

Later that evening, the doorbell buzzed. He wasn’t expecting company, but sometimes, a girl dropped by for an injection of Vitamin K. Who was he to jeopardize the health of some poor, vitamin-deficient honey? He wondered how they got past the attendant, who would always call. He straightened his clothes, check his reflection and thought, ‘Duty calls!’ and went to the door.

He opened the door to a tall redhead, with very fair skin and a smattering of freckles across her elfin nose. Her bright red hair made her blue eyes pop, and while she was dressed fairly conservatively, he could tell she was no stick-figure tit-cicle. This girl had some curves. She looked vaguely familiar, but he couldn’t quite place her.

“Yes?” he asked.

“Kendrick? Kendrick Cayman?”

“That would be me,” he answered. “And you are?”

“Patricia Palmer,” she said.

Suddenly he remembered. Yeah, he’d hit that. Just once, though. That was back in college, right before he graduated.

“Patty Palmer! Come on in!” He stepped out of the way to let her in.

Only once she started walking in did he notice that she wasn’t alone. She was with a little girl, maybe four or five years old, and clearly biracial. She had golden skin, wildly unkempt dark red-gold hair, and the same smattering of freckles, except across a cute little button nose that looked remarkably like Kendrick’s nose.

With no preamble, Patricia said, “Kendrick, I’d like you to meet Kiersten. Kiersten, this is Kendrick. He’s your father.”

“You’re my daddy?!” asked Kiersten excitedly.