Father's Erotic Odyssey
Copyright© 2025 by CaffeinatedTales
Chapter 3
Erotica Sex Story: Chapter 3 - When Mom left for a business trip, Dad’s mask of fidelity crumbled. Drawn into temptation by the neighbor’s allure and secret late-night indulgences, he spiraled into betrayal and desire. I was the only witness—capturing every forbidden moment in my hidden diary of lust and secrets.
Caution: This Erotica Sex Story contains strong sexual content, including Coercion Consensual NonConsensual Reluctant Fiction Cheating Father Gang Bang Anal Sex Analingus Massage Masturbation Oral Sex Petting Pregnancy Squirting Tit-Fucking Big Breasts Doctor/Nurse 2nd POV
We got the news on Friday, and it hit like a nightmare.
It was during the big break between classes, with the room buzzing as kids chatted at their desks or roughhoused in the hallways. I sat there staring out the window, lost in thoughts of what I’d seen a few days earlier at Aunt Susan’s place, where Dad had his semen drawn out by Mia, Clara, and Eleanor. The noise around me didn’t faze me at all.
Then came that familiar sharp clack of footsteps heading our way, the unmistakable sound of our homeroom teacher’s high heels scraping the floor. Before she even reached the door, everyone scrambled back to their seats without a word.
Sure enough, about thirty seconds later, she stepped into the room.
I snapped out of my daydream, slouching a bit before straightening up like the others, hands folded on my desk, waiting for her to speak.
Our teacher was old-fashioned through and through, always in a suit skirt, either black or gray, hugging her trim figure. She wore thick black-framed glasses, behind which lurked these piercing eyes that could spot anyone zoning out in class, like they’d been blessed with some divine power.
I’d never liked her much, since she played favorites and came down hard on kids like me who didn’t ace everything.
We waited, but she stayed silent, and soon the class started nodding off from the boredom.
I was about to let out a yawn when she finally spoke, startling me so much that I choked it back, making my nose tingle.
She announced, “The midterm exams for this semester are set, starting next Monday.”
Groans erupted all over the room right away.
Most kids complained about the short prep time, and the usual troublemakers chimed in, asking why exams even existed.
The teacher, seeing the place erupt like a pan of hot oil, banged on the podium twice, and the complaints died down.
She went on, “If you’re whining about not having enough time now, what were you doing all along? If you’d studied properly before, you could take the test right this minute and still do well.”
From my seat, I rolled my eyes at her in secret, thinking what a nasty piece of work she was.
Still, complaints aside, I had to figure out how to cram for this surprise midterm.
It was Friday, with exams on Monday, leaving just two days to review.
After subtracting the weekend homework, there wasn’t even a full day left.
I sighed quietly, figuring I was doomed this time.
After the test, Mom would chew me out for sure.
But then it hit me: my cousin could help me cram last-minute. She’s sharp and gets top grades, a natural at studying, something relatives always mentioned at family dinners. Plus, she often came over to hang out, and I’d visit her too, so we’d grown close. She might agree to help.
And tonight, we were heading to her place for the hotel opening celebration, the perfect chance to ask.
I zoned out staring at the teacher as she lectured on, grinning to myself underneath, with no one guessing my thoughts.
After school, Dad picked me up.
He rarely did that, but we’d gotten an invite from my cousin’s family for the evening event at Aunt’s place to celebrate their new hotel. So he rushed over right after work.
Aunt’s house was far from school, and with rush hour traffic, it took an hour by car to get there.
It was a four-story villa near the coast.
Uncle had done well in business lately, so Aunt timed the build with the city’s tourism boom to turn it into a hotel.
When we arrived, the place was packed with guests. Aunt was busy hosting relatives at the banquet, but she broke away to greet us when she spotted Dad and me.
As siblings, Dad and Aunt hugged warmly, chatting a bit before Uncle joined to say hello, then pulled Dad into a table full of guys.
I stood there awkwardly, unsure where to sit, feeling like a statue in the crowd. Normally, Mom would join me at a table, but without her, I felt lost, buzzing around like a headless fly.
Just then, someone tapped my shoulder. I turned to see my cousin, beaming.
“When did you get here?” she asked excitedly.
“Just now,” I smiled back.
“Hard to find, right?”
I nodded. “Yeah, took us an hour in the car.” She led me to a table and motioned for me to sit.
The spread was full of dishes, but our table wasn’t complete yet, so we couldn’t start.
With me there, she stopped helping Aunt and sat to chat instead.
She poured me some coffee and asked, “Is Uncle here?”
“Yeah, over there,” I said, pointing toward Dad.
She glanced over, then turned back. “Mom said Aunt went to Los Angeles?”
I nodded, confirming it.
“When’s she back?” she asked, dipping her chopsticks in her mouth.
I shook my head. “Not sure. She said two weeks at first, but then called Dad to say it’d be a month.”
She looked surprised. “So it’s just you and Uncle at home?”
I nodded vigorously, wondering who else there could be.
She fell quiet, but I caught a faint smile from the corner of my eye.
Suddenly, it clicked, and I blurted, “Cousin, can you help me with something?”
“What?” she turned.
Grinning, I said, “Could you tutor me? Exams start Monday, and I haven’t cracked a book.”
She poured herself some cola, took a sip, and replied, “Sure, no problem.”
Relief washed over me; with her smarts, she’d get me through.
A bit later, she leaned in mysteriously. “But we’ll do it at your place.”
“Why?” I asked, puzzled.
“The hotel’s just opening, so it’s noisy here. Your place is quieter.”
“Oh,” I said.
Then she asked, “Is Uncle home this weekend?”
“Yeah, Dad’s off work.”
She smirked to herself. “Good.”
I thought I heard her, but wasn’t sure. “What?”
“Nothing,” she said quickly.
I’d been looking forward to pigging out at the banquet, but once seated, my appetite vanished.
I forked a meatball onto my plate but just stared at it, lost in worries about the exam two days away. I didn’t even notice when it slipped and stained my shirt until my cousin pointed it out. “Not hungry?”
“I’m eating,” I mumbled absentmindedly.
She pointed at my shirt skeptically. “Really?”
Looking down, I saw the big grease spot.
I wiped it with a napkin, but it was hopeless.
She told me to ignore it and eat.
I set down my utensils, staring at the food. “I think I’m full.”
An aunt nearby, Mom’s friend who always chatted with her at these events, noticed. Even without Mom, she looked out for me. “Ryan, you done eating?”
“Yeah, I’m full,” I said.
She seemed doubtful and was about to ask more, but my cousin beat her to it.
“You’re stressing about the exam, aren’t you?”
I sighed deeply, met her eyes, and nodded.
She burst out laughing. “A silly test has you too worked up to eat? Come on, finish up, and I’ll tutor you after.”
Still down, I asked, “What if tutoring doesn’t help?”
She patted her chest confidently. “With my tips, you’ll pass no problem. Leave it to me, and just eat.” Then she shoved a piece of chicken in her mouth.
During the meal, I kept glancing at Dad.
His table was two away, in clear view from my spot.
He sat with mostly middle-aged men, a few younger ones in their mid-twenties stopping by briefly to chat before moving on.
I noticed Dad’s neck turning pink, his face flushed; classic sign he’d been drinking.
At past banquets with Mom, she’d watch him like a hawk since his tolerance wasn’t great, but once tipsy, he’d keep going. Mom always said he only stopped when blackout drunk, so she’d count his drinks, worried one more might do him in.
I stared, snapping back as he downed another glass. He was getting sloshed; I could hear his slurred words over the din.
After setting down his cup, Uncle John on his left refilled it with red wine, and the group started trading crude jokes.
One uncle, back to me, teased Dad, “With your wife gone so long, how are you handling things, big brother? Haha!”
Dad replied, “Handling? Just like that!”
The others egged him on. “How?”
Dad mimed a fist pumping. “Like this!” The table roared with laughter.
Uncle John offered, “Charles, want me to set you up with someone?”
Before Dad could answer, Uncle David on John’s other side jumped in. “A few? You trying to wear him out? Watch out, or his wife will come after you when she’s back!” More booming laughs followed.
Seeing Dad’s red face, I figured he was hammered and debated going over to tell him to stop. But my cousin turned. “You finished?”
At first, I didn’t register, too focused on Dad, until she whispered in my ear.
“Yeah,” I said.
She wiped her mouth. “Then come upstairs with me. Time for tonight’s study session.”
I got up and followed her into the shiny new villa.
Passing Dad, I glanced his way, but he was too far gone to recognize me. I wanted to stop and help him leave, but my cousin called from ahead, so I left him to his revelry.
Inside, the living room had at least three banquet tables, just as lively. We dodged crowds and noise to reach the stairs.
Looking up, the straight staircase seemed endless. “How many floors is this? It looks so tall!”
“Including the rooftop terrace, five,” she said casually, leading me up.
The stairs spiraled, with smooth wooden handrails that felt cool. I admired the decor, the wall lamps and corner flowers giving a nostalgic vibe.
She took me to a room on the fourth floor. Closing the door shut out the chaos like magic.
It was a spacious bedroom with a big soft bed covered in crisp white sheets. The carpet’s intricate patterns reminded me of the blanket at Aunt Susan’s; stepping on it felt plush and comforting.
There was also a bathroom and balcony.
The balcony had potted plants, not yet lush, with just a few red and yellow flowers dotting the space.
Out there, a white tea table and chair blended with the villa’s exterior.
“This place is so relaxing,” I said. No response; turning, I saw her sprawled on the bed.
After a moment, she drawled lazily, “Ah, after a whole day of running around, finally a comfy lie-down.”
I glanced at her, then found a spot to sit, pulling out my textbooks and homework from my bag.
She tilted her head from the bed. “You sure you don’t want to rest? School all day must tire you out.”
I tapped my book. “Exam comes first.”
She jumped up. “Fine, if you’re that pumped for studying, we’ll go all night if we have to.”
We both laughed at that.
I planned to finish homework first, then review the semester’s material. As I worked, she got bored since I didn’t need help yet and went downstairs for her bag.
I paused writing. “What are you doing?”
She dumped a stack of thick assignments on the desk. “Joining you with my homework.”
Staring at the pile, I said incredulously, “That’s all for this week?”
She chuckled. “Yup.”
“That’s a ton.”
She shrugged. “Middle school for you. Different from elementary.”
My own homework felt endless; even scribbling furiously, pages remained.
At first, I focused, but soon distractions crept in: a tiny mosquito, a gentle breeze, a drip from the faucet. My pen stopped, eyes fixed on the blank wall like in class, mind wandering to weird scenes.
Dad’s face popped up; what was he doing now?
Still boozing with those old uncles?
Or had he sobered enough to turn down more drinks?
Dad felt like part of my heart, always tugging at me. I wanted to rush down and stay with him, but what excuse? Just being his son?
Adults would think I was in the way, blame Dad for bad parenting, and embarrass him.
I looked away from the wall, head down at the empty desk, suddenly recalling sitting behind Dad that afternoon.
Dad commutes on his motorcycle, and sometimes takes me out on it.
I used to fear it; he speeds, wind whipping by, scaring me. As I grew, I loved it, craving that rush. That’s when I realized wind is tangible, something you can feel but never grasp, like hugging Dad from behind yet never holding his heart.
Then there was the scent from his neck after a hard day’s work: slightly sour, salty, bitter. It hit me every ride, becoming his trademark, like labels on clothes or shoes, stuck forever.
I could’ve kept reminiscing, but my pencil dropped, snapping me back. Oddly, my cousin didn’t notice.
Glancing over, she seemed distracted too, head down, eyes on her book, pen flying, but her mind elsewhere, judging by her constant smile. Not from homework; it reminded me of my own sneaky classroom grins.
I was about to ask what made her so happy when the door opened.
It was Aunt, stumbling in while supporting Dad.
We jumped up to help. “There you are,” she said. “Why so high up? Took forever to find you.”
We got Dad onto the bed. “What happened?” my cousin asked.
Aunt looked at me. “Your dad overdid it tonight. I tried to stop him when I saw, but he was already out of it.” She pointed at the passed-out Dad, then continued, “So I pulled him away to sober up. Figured you two were in here. What are you up to?”
“Homework,” my cousin said.
“Perfect. Ryan, you two keep studying and watch him. I’ll grab a bucket; he might puke. Don’t let him make a mess.” She fetched one from next door.
We exchanged confused looks as she lined it with a bag. “Ryan, you and your dad probably can’t head home tonight. He can’t drive like this. Stay here.”
I nodded silently.
Once set, she headed out, but paused to tell my cousin, “Especially you: take care of your cousin and watch Uncle.” Only after promises did she leave.
Dad lay flat, reeking of alcohol.
As I pulled up the blanket, my cousin stopped me. “Hey, don’t cover him; you’ll roast him.”
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