Father's Erotic Odyssey
Copyright© 2025 by CaffeinatedTales
Chapter 6
Erotica Sex Story: Chapter 6 - 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
I sat there in my seat, fidgeting with unease, while the noisy chatter around me only amplified the worry building inside. My elbows rested on the desk, hands clenched into fists cradling my head, and a dull ache throbbed at my temples, like some trapped imp in my brain hammering away at the skin to break free.
Even though late autumn had passed and winter loomed ahead, the sun’s rays piercing through the classroom windows still felt like a scorching summer blaze on my skin. That intense heat tricked me into thinking my body was on fire, charring my flesh to black, leaving me utterly ravaged by the flames.
The sharp ring of the bell shattered what little peace I had left, flooding every corner of my being with dread as the room fell quiet. Everyone knew our doom had arrived.
The click-clack of the homeroom teacher’s high heels made us all hold our breath.
We exchanged glances, faces twisted in indescribable anxiety.
Some clasped their hands on the desk, murmuring silent prayers, while others, resigned to their fate, acted out defiantly, embracing their roles as class troublemakers.
Margaret entered like a chilling demon, her cold presence signaling our end the moment she stepped in.
With a thud, she impatiently slammed a stack of test papers onto the podium, saying nothing, showing no unusual expression, and instead picking up the eraser to wipe away the notes from the previous class.
Those few minutes of calm only heightened the terror before the storm, a dark cloud of dread closing in on us all.
Finally, unable to hold back, Margaret started nitpicking at everyone, her face openly displaying disgust and scorn as she muttered to herself from the front, “You don’t even clean the board, leaving it for me like I’m your nanny. No way. With how I’ve taught you, I don’t even qualify for that job.”
The class monitor sneaked a glance at the student on duty that day, who looked petrified, as if drawn from the book of the dead, frozen in hesitation. After a moment, he stood up and headed toward the board, only to be stopped by Margaret, who said, “Don’t bother. Go sit down.”
He shuffled back awkwardly, and we all caught the venom in her gaze, like staring down an enemy, warning us that he was done for.
Sure enough, as soon as he sat, she zeroed in on him, saying, “Lucas, you can’t even remember something simple like wiping the board. No wonder you scored like this.”
Lucas bowed his head in shame, avoiding her eyes.
Seizing the chance, she continued, “Lucas, 45 points. Come get your paper.”
Her tone dripped with contempt for the sheet, and Lucas rose timidly, approaching the podium like a condemned prisoner claiming his final pass.
Then she announced everyone’s midterm scores one by one, each of us on edge, nerves taut, waiting for our names. We hurried up to grab our papers, fearing a second’s delay would invite her ridicule and criticism.
As distribution wound down, my name still unspoken, I silently prayed for the storm to pass without too much fury.
I kept my head down, too scared to look at the stern figure up front, convinced one glance would turn me to stone.
In the midst of my churning anxiety, Margaret called out, “Ryan.”
Unlike with others, she paused after my name instead of blurting the score.
She held up my paper and said softly, “55 points. How did you manage this?”
When I reached the podium, she tossed it in front of me and added, “Come to my office after school.”
I slunk back to my seat, thinking I was truly in for it.
A heavy sigh escaped me. I’d anticipated this disaster, but facing it still filled me with fear.
When had I foreseen this outcome?
It started after I turned down my cousin’s offer to tutor me, right after waking up at my aunt’s villa and seeing her eagerly devouring my father’s cock. From that moment, I resolved to cut all ties between her and my family, so I stormed downstairs and ended our weekend tutoring agreement.
She was eating breakfast downstairs, staring at me in confusion when I backed out suddenly. Thinking it was a joke, she waited, but I repeated myself, and only then did she realize I meant it.
Truthfully, I was throwing a tantrum. If she came over weekends to tutor, she’d surely push me to go after my father again. I was sick of handing him over like some object to satisfy others. I didn’t want to see him reduced to a tool for their desires, so I made that choice.
From then on, I knew my exam would be a mess. I’d prepared for the punishment, but when it hit, regret and pain overwhelmed me.
The dismissal bell rang through the campus as expected, and I wove through the crowd to Margaret’s office.
Her office was on the third floor of the staff building. When I arrived, only she and an unfamiliar teacher remained.
I knocked a few times and entered. Margaret stopped her work, beckoning me over while saying to the other teacher, “Sorry about this, but I have a student to handle. I hope it doesn’t disturb you.”
The teacher smiled, standing up, and replied, “No problem at all. Go ahead. I was leaving anyway.” With that, she grabbed her bag and left.
Now alone with Margaret, her face turned stern as she asked, “Do you know why I called you here?”
I nodded, but she didn’t look at me, assuming I hadn’t heard, and snapped, “Did you even listen? Are you this distracted in class too?”
I hurried to say, “No, teacher.”
She pressed, “No? Then what’s with these scores?” She pointed at the grade book on her desk.
I mumbled, “I don’t know what happened.”
She sneered, “Don’t know? That’s why I say your brain’s rusted. You don’t even remember what you wrote.”
Humiliated, I stared at the floor, silent, afraid any word would make it worse.
Looking at the grades, she sighed deeply and said earnestly, “Don’t blame me for scolding you. It’s for your own good. Keep this up, and you’ll fall far behind the others.”
I nodded quietly. Seeing my sincerity, she added, “These scores can’t drag on. How about this? Starting tonight, come to my house every weekend for tutoring. What do you think?”
She looked up at me expectantly, like she’d already won.
Stunned, I managed, “I don’t know if my family would agree.”
Sensing resistance, she said, “Lots of students come to me for extra help, like Lucas, Ava, Olivia. I’m only offering because I see potential in you.”
I repeated, “I don’t know if my family would agree.”
Frustrated, she conceded, “Fine. At the parent-teacher conference in a few days, have your mom come talk to me. I’ll explain it myself.”
I said, “But my mom’s not home lately.”
Surprised, she asked, “Not home? Where is she?”
“On a business trip in Los Angeles,” I replied.
Disappointment flickered across her face.
I’d known for a while that my mom and Margaret had a close connection. Margaret had been our homeroom teacher since first grade, never replaced. Mom bonded with her early on, and Margaret knew Mom prioritized my education. Any suggestion from her for my benefit, Mom would jump on it. But hearing Mom was away diminished her confidence.
She asked, “Well, your dad’s around, right?”
I nodded.
“Then great,” she said. “Have your dad come to the conference. I’ll talk to him directly.”
I protested, “Teacher, my dad probably can’t make it.”
Her face soured, and she demanded, “Why not?”
Scared, I whispered, “He has work that day. He might not get off in time.”
Furious, she shot back, “Then he can take leave. I refuse to believe he doesn’t care about his child’s education.”
Her anger blurred whether she spoke for me or herself.
As per school tradition, a parent-teacher conference followed midterms each semester, and this one was no exception.
It was set for Friday afternoon. Dad couldn’t get time off, so as it neared starting, I still hadn’t seen him.
Like the others, I peered down from the hallway, scanning for him, but minutes passed with no luck.
Margaret headed to the classroom with her materials. Classmates led their parents in, leaving me alone in the hall. As she passed, she asked, “Ryan, hasn’t your dad arrived?”
I shook my head, explaining, “He couldn’t get leave.”
Ignoring that, she insisted, “I don’t care. Today, I must discuss your studies with him. If he doesn’t show, you stay here until he picks you up.”
I held my breath, letting her lecture me, wanting to defend Dad but unsure how.
After speaking, she entered the classroom, and I scanned the crowd below again.
Suddenly, something slammed into my back. Unprepared, my chin hit the balcony edge, sending a sharp pain through it. Turning, I saw Ava rushing up, her dad behind her.
Ava was a spoiled princess, always bragging about her family’s status and how her dad doted on her. It annoyed many in class, but since her family was close to Margaret, who favored her, no one confronted her openly. Some even fawned over her.
I’d heard her describe her dad often, and seeing him now, he stood out from typical fathers.
Dressed in a sharp suit, hair neatly combed, tie perfect, shoes polished to a shine, he clearly prepared carefully.
Seeing Ava bump me carelessly, he scolded, “Watch out. You hit someone.”
Ava ignored me until he prompted her to stop.
I greeted him politely, “Hello, Mr. Rodriguez.”
He glanced at me, surprised, eyeing me up and down before saying, “Ava, come apologize to your classmate.”
Ava stayed haughty, whining, “Dad.”
He ignored her pout and commanded firmly, “Now.”
Reluctantly, she approached and muttered, “Sorry.”
Her arrogance turned my stomach, but I let it go, saying, “It’s fine.”
He said, “What a polite kid. Ava, you could learn from him. Acting wild like that, what kind of girl are you?”
His tone was strict, eyes fierce, as if ready to whip her, sending a chill through me too.
But in an instant, he softened. Our eyes met.
He asked, “What’s your name?”
“Ryan,” I said, looking up, our gazes locking again.
Ava sneered, “Such a wimpy name.”
I flushed, biting my lip to retort but staying silent. Mr. Rodriguez scolded her instead.
“If you cause more trouble out here, wait till we get home,” he warned.
Terrified, she shut up.
Then he gently touched my chin, saying, “Oh no, it’s bleeding.”
I wiped it, seeing blood on my fingers.
“Don’t touch it with your hands, you might infect it,” he said, telling Ava to get tissues.
She grumbled, “It’s just a little blood, no big deal.”
But when he stared at her silently, she hurried to the classroom and brought some back for him.
I reached for them, but he kept them, dabbing my wound himself, murmuring, “Such a handsome face, it’d be a shame if it scarred.” He smiled at me.
I looked away awkwardly, avoiding his eyes.
Ava called, “Dad, hurry up. The conference is starting.”
He followed her call, but before leaving, said to me, “Ryan, come over to our house sometime.”
His parting smile puzzled me.
He was quite handsome, actually.
Near the end of the conference, I finally spotted Dad hurrying into the building from upstairs.
His work shirt unbuttoned, he ran, searching for my class. I waved from the balcony, but he missed it, so I dashed down to meet him.
Seeing me, he asked, “Ryan, is the conference over?”
I shook my head, “Not yet, but almost.”
Without another word, he followed me up.
I led him to the classroom, pointing out my seat from the window. He walked right in.
Margaret startled at the sudden intruder, asking, “Who are you?”
Apologetically, he said, “I’m Ryan’s dad.”
Her expression froze, murmuring, “So you’re Ryan’s dad?”
From the hallway with classmates, through the window, I saw her shocked realization, standing motionless like a powered-down robot staring at him.
As Dad awkwardly navigated past parents to my seat, she snapped back, hiding her surprise and resuming her speech.
Ava leaned over, saying, “Hey, Ryan, didn’t expect your dad to be so hot.”
I turned away, replying flatly, “Yours is too.”
Soon after Dad sat, the conference ended.
As parents filed out, Dad among them, I approached to grab his hand and bolt for the exit, but Margaret called me back.
He stopped at the sound of my name, forcing me to abandon escape.
She wanted to discuss my recent performance with him in her office. Unable to refuse, Dad agreed, and I tagged along reluctantly.
The office buzzed with parents crowding every desk, chatter filling the air, complaints and sighs echoing from afar.
Dad disliked such scenes, preferring Mom handle teacher talks, as it wasn’t his style. Before this, he’d asked about my studies, and I’d told him everything, but he hadn’t scolded much, just offered light encouragement, unaware Margaret planned this post-conference chat.
At the door, she said to me, “Ryan, wait outside. I’ll talk with your dad alone.”
Her tone softer than usual, with a smile, typical teacher act for parents.
No choice, I waited outside.
Twilight bathed the school in sunset glow, stretching tree shadows long like mutated monsters blanketing the ground.
The place felt like a perilous dark forest, teeming with bizarre creatures ready to pounce and devour anyone, tormenting them to death.
Lost in thought, a hand patted my back.
Turning, I saw Ava’s dad.
I greeted flatly, “Hello, Mr. Rodriguez.”
He stepped beside me at the balcony, asking, “Ryan, why are you out here alone?”
I pointed behind me, “Waiting for my dad. He’s inside talking with the teacher.”
He smiled, “In trouble?”
I shook my head, “Bombed the test.”
He chuckled, “No worries, just one setback.”
Unsure what to say, I stared downstairs, silently watching passersby.
He said, “Ryan, can I ask you something?”
I turned, “What?”
“Does Ava bully you at school often?”
I met his gaze briefly, then looked away as he stared intently.
Before I answered, he added, “With her temper, she must pick on plenty of kids.”
My silence confirmed it.
He said, “If she bothers you again, come straight to me.”
Puzzled, I asked, “To you? Where?”
He placed a hand on my shoulder, “Come to my house.”
Before I could respond, Dad emerged with Margaret.
As she saw him out, I overheard her say, “So we’re set then.”
Spotting Mr. Rodriguez beside me, her eyes shrank, as if avoiding him, but he spoke first, “I’m here to check on Ava’s recent progress.”
His tone flat, emotionless, unlike our earlier chat.
She replied, “Please come in,” and he followed her inside.
Two days later, during a long break, I was engrossed in a borrowed comic at my desk when Ava snuck up.
She smugly tapped my desk. Annoyed, I looked up, “What?”
“Come to my house this weekend,” she said.
“Why?” I asked.
“It’s my birthday. You’re invited,” she leaned in close, like sharing a secret.
I turned away, “No thanks.”
Furious, she demanded, “Why not?”
“I don’t want to,” I insisted.
As she geared up to yell, Lucas chimed in, “Ryan, just come with us.”
Lucas was a top student, and Ava hung with high achievers who flattered her, forming a clique that bullied freely around class.
I despised them, unwilling to join, suspicious of their sudden niceness, sensing ulterior motives like a weasel wishing a chicken happy new year.
Ignoring them irked Ava, so she whispered in my ear, “If you don’t, I’ll tell the teacher about your cheating on last semester’s finals and get you in big trouble.” She raised an eyebrow triumphantly.
Enraged, I stood and shoved her, “Fine, I’ll go. Let’s see what you’re up to.”
So on Saturday morning, I headed alone to the address at Ava’s house.
It sat in the downtown villa district, near bustling commercial areas, with skyscrapers rising on the horizon, separated by wooded buffers from the serene homes.
Following the path through the community, tall plane trees lined the roads, their dense leaves filtering sunlight into speckles on the ground.
Ava often boasted about her wealth, and I’d always walked away disgusted by her smugness, but seeing this place, I somewhat understood her urge to show off.
After a walk, I found her villa, a three-story white building shaded by trees, exuding quiet elegance, though the shutters were closed tight, not welcoming guests.
I rang the bell, and after minutes, hurried slipper steps approached. Ava opened, looking haggard, like she’d been crying.
I asked, “This the right place?”
Without snark, she said calmly, “Go home. The party’s canceled.”
Thrilled inside, I still asked incredulously, “Canceled?”
“Yeah,” she repeated.
I offered sympathy, said goodbye, but a man’s voice called from inside, “Ava, get back here and clean up. You think you can skip today’s lesson?”
She sighed, “It’s my dad.” Then shouted back, “Dad, I’m talking to a classmate.”
He sounded angrier, “Didn’t I tell you to send them away? Who’s so nosy?”
“Ryan,” she yelled.
Hearing my name, I blushed, feeling like the culprit.
Surprisingly, Mr. Rodriguez came out.
Approaching, he repeated, “Ryan? It’s Ryan?”
Embarrassed, I said, “Yes, Mr. Rodriguez. Sorry to bother you.”
A brief silence hung, time frozen in awkwardness.
Then he told Ava, “What’s this? A classmate comes, and you don’t invite him in?”
Stunned, both Ava and I stared as he turned to me, “Ryan, come inside. It’s cold out.”
Confused, I entered, exchanging baffled looks with Ava.
Before I arrived, other classmates had come but been sent away by him.
It was Ava’s birthday, yet he denied her any celebration, forcing her to study. Seeing tear streaks on her cheeks confirmed she’d cried over it.
His warmth toward me shocked everyone; his beaming smile belied the man who’d just dismissed a group of kids.
He sent Ava off to gather her books, leaving me with him in the living room, awkward and speechless.
Planning a quick exit, but even after Ava left, he showed no sign of letting me go.
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