The iClub
Copyright© 2026 by Caroline Stanton
Chapter 13
Erotica Sex Story: Chapter 13 - Four girls are tired of dating immature boys, so they decide to try something different. A random suggestion gives them the ideal candidates: Their own fathers. This is a long story, about 150k words and 40 chapters.
Caution: This Erotica Sex Story contains strong sexual content, including Ma/ft
SOPHIE
Phil exhaled sharply when her nails grazed his balls. “Careful,” he warned. “I need time to recharge”.
Sophie’s smile turned wicked. She shifted down, her breath hot against his stomach as she mouthed along the trail of hair leading south. She took him in her mouth, but instead of sucking, she kept his cock warm while he recovered.
None of them spoke for about 10 minutes, when Phil suddenly flipped Sophie and pinned her wrists above her head. She gasped, then grinned—all teeth and triumph. He dragged his nose along her throat, inhaling the scent of sex and her citrus shampoo.
Her hips arched, her slick coating his thigh.
Sophie’s laughter dissolved into a sharp gasp as Phil’s teeth closed around her nipple, his calloused palm sliding down to grip her hipbone hard enough to bruise. “Fuck,” she breathed when his thumb found her clit again, circling with just enough pressure to make her vision blur.
Phil watched her face—the way her lips parted on each stuttered exhale, the flutter of her pulse beneath his tongue—as he guided himself back into her with a slow, grinding thrust. Sophie’s nails scored his biceps, her inner muscles clamping down in a rhythm that nearly undid him. He gritted his teeth, forcing himself to keep the pace languid despite the way her hips jerked to meet each movement.
“You feel that?” he murmured against her ear, shifting his angle until she cried out. “How deep I’m in you?” Sophie could only nod, her words reduced to fractured syllables as he pinned her wrists higher, using his free hand to hitch her thigh over his elbow. The new position had her seeing stars, her climax building faster than before—each drag of his cock along her front wall ratcheting the tension tighter.
When she came, it was with a soundless scream, her body bowing off the mattress as Phil fucked her through it, his own release cresting as her pussy milked him in rhythmic pulses. He pressed his forehead to hers, their shared breath hot between them as the aftershocks trembled through her limbs.
“Stay,” she murmured against his lips, her fingers tracing the scar above his eyebrow—a childhood bike accident he’d never told her about. The request wasn’t necessary—he had no intention of moving—but the way she said it, quiet and certain, made his chest tighten.
Phil shifted just enough to take his weight off her, rolling them onto their sides without slipping out. The sheets rustled as Sophie curled into him, her knee hooking over his hip to keep him close.
“You’re thinking,” Sophie observed, thumb brushing his lower lip. Phil caught her wrist, pressing a kiss to her pulse point. “Just wondering how the hell we explain this to Gemma,” he admitted. Sophie’s laughter vibrated against his chest. “We don’t,” she said simply, nipping his jaw.
Phil traced the curve of Sophie’s shoulder with his thumb, the pad catching on a faint tan line where her tank top straps usually sat. “So what is this, then?” he asked, his voice rougher than he intended.
Sophie stretched like a cat, her toes brushing his shin. “A man and a woman,” she said, rolling onto her side to face him. One hand splayed across his chest, fingers tapping an absent rhythm against his sternum. “Who fuck really well together.”
She looked at his eyes. “Don’t ... don’t make this into some grand romance, okay?” The hesitance in her voice was new—unlike the Sophie who’d marched into his house demanding his cock an hour ago. “It’s just sex. Good sex.”
“So we’re what—fuckbuddies?” The word felt alien in his mouth, too slick and modern for his forty years.
Sophie’s nose wrinkled. “Ugh, that sounds so transactional.” She rolled atop him in one fluid motion, her thighs bracketing his hips. The movement made his spent cock twitch against her damp folds. “We’re just ... two people who enjoy each other.” Her hips rolled in a slow, teasing grind. “When the mood strikes.” Then she lowered herself until she had his cock in front of her face. She looked up at him, her eyes shimmering with intensity. “I’ll worship your cock, Phil,” she whispered, the raw honesty of the words hanging between them. “I’ll give you as many blowjobs as you want. Every time we get together. Just tell me, and I’ll be happy to suck you.”
The admission sent a jolt through him, a sudden spark that reignited the fire they had just spent the last hour fueling. He reached down, his fingers tangling in her hair, pulling her slightly closer. The sheer openness of her desire was intoxicating; it wasn’t just about the physical act, but the total surrender she was offering. It was a kind of generosity that felt overwhelming, a promise of pleasure that was entirely focused on his satisfaction.
Phil’s hands found her waist, thumbs brushing the dip of her hipbones. “I’m gonna ask a lot, kid.” The roughness in his voice surprised them both.
Sophie’s grin was pure mischief as she leaned down, her breasts brushing his chest. “I’m counting on it.”
GEMMA
After a while Gemma shifted, her movements fluid and athletic, the kind of effortless grace that came from years of competitive cheerleading. She crawled up his body, her knees digging into the mattress. She didn’t say anything for a moment, just looked at him with a playful, knowing smile that made his pulse quicken. Slowly, she reached for his cock. He groaned softly as she leaned in, her breath warm against him. She started slowly, swirling her tongue around the head of his dick, tasting him again before she slid her mouth over the top.
“You’re so hard already,” she murmured, pulling back just enough to look him in the eyes. Paul couldn’t find the words, his breath hitching as she wrapped her lips back around him. She took him deep, her throat tightening around his shaft as she used her hand to stroke the base, coordinating the pressure perfectly. She sucked him with a slow, rhythmic deliberation, her tongue swirling around the head of his cock in a way that felt like a deliberate tease. He reached down, his fingers tangling in her blonde ponytail, guiding her movements as he let out a jagged moan.
After a few minutes of the intense suction, Gemma shifted, sliding upward with an athletic agility that made him blink. Before he could even process the movement, she had pivoted, her hips hovering just inches above his face. She guided herself down, sliding her soaking wet pussy directly over his mouth and nose. The mix of her arousal and his cum was thick and heady, filling his senses as she settled her weight. Paul didn’t hesitate, his tongue licking upward, tracing the length of her slit and tasting the creaminess of her juices. He groaned into her skin, his tongue delving deep inside her while she continued to suck him, their bodies locked in a frantic, reciprocal 69.
“God, you’re so tasty,” Paul managed to gasp out, the words muffled against her thighs.
Gemma gasped and uttered a groan as she arched her back. She shifted her weight, grinding her clit against his nose while her mouth worked on him with renewed intensity. She loved the feeling of being in control, the way she could manipulate the rhythm just like she did during a routine, but here the stakes weren’t a trophy—they were pure, visceral pleasure. She sucked him harder, her tongue swirling around the head of his cock, pulling the skin taut as she felt him pulse inside her mouth.
Paul’s hands wandered, gripping the firm, toned curves of her ass. He could feel the muscle there, the strength she used to launch herself into the air during stunts, now serving as a powerful engine for the friction between them. He pushed his tongue deeper into her, tasting the salt and sweetness of her, his breath hot against her sensitive skin. The sensation of her soaking wet pussy pressing against his face, combined with the tight suction of her mouth on his dick, pushed him toward the edge. He groaned, his hips bucking upward, nearly knocking her off balance.
Gemma let out a sharp, jagged breath and pulled away, sliding off his face with a wet, slapping sound. She didn’t give him a second to recover, immediately flipping over and dropping onto all fours. She arched her back deeply, pushing her chest down toward the mattress and sticking her ass high in the air, her pussy gaping slightly and glistening with moisture. “Get behind me,” she commanded, her voice a low, hungry rasp. “I want to feel you hitting the back of my throat from the other end.”
Paul didn’t need to be told twice. He scrambled up behind her, his cock throbbing and fully erect, the head glistening with her juices and his own pre-cum. He reached out, gripping her waist with both hands, his fingers sinking into the soft skin just above her hips. He lined himself up, the head of his dick brushing against her wet folds, and with one slow, deliberate thrust, he slid deep inside her. Gemma let out a loud, guttural scream that echoed through the quiet house, her fingers clutching the bedsheets as she felt him fill her completely.
Paul gripped her hips tighter, his thumbs digging into the muscle of her glutes as he began to pump into her. The sound of their bodies colliding was a wet, rhythmic slapping that filled the room, drowning out the distant hum of the ceiling fan. Gemma’s back arched like a bow, her chest pressed flat against the mattress, her breath coming in short, ragged gasps. Every time he thrust deep, her internal muscles clamped down on him, squeezing his shaft with a tightness that made his vision blur.
“Fuck, Gemma,” he groaned, his voice strained. “You’re so tight.”
“It’s the core strength, Paul,” she gasped out, her voice shaking. She shifted her weight, tilting her pelvis up to give him a better angle, her cheerleader’s flexibility allowing her to take him at an angle that hit her G-spot with every single stroke. “Tell me ... tell me how it feels ... to be inside me.”
“You feel incredible,” he panted, increasing the pace. He felt the friction building, the heat of her pussy wrapping around him like a vice. He could feel her shaking beneath him, her toned legs trembling as she fought to stay braced for the impact of his weight. He leaned forward, pressing his chest against her back, his mouth finding the sensitive skin of her neck.
“Don’t stop,” Gemma whimpered, her voice breaking as she shoved her hips back against him with more force. “Harder, Paul. Give me everything.”
He obeyed, his movements becoming more primal and less controlled. He gripped her hips so tightly that he knew there would be faint fingerprints left on her skin by tomorrow, but she didn’t seem to mind; she only loved the feeling of being dominated by his weight. He felt the slickness of her arousal lubricating every slide, the sound of their skin slapping together becoming a frantic, wet rhythm that echoed off the walls of the bedroom. He was buried deep in her, hitting her cervix with every lunging thrust, and the way she gasped with every impact told him exactly how much she was enjoying it.
Gemma’s head was thrown back, her ponytail coming undone and spilling across the sheets. She was breathing in heavy, ragged gulps, her internal muscles pulsing around him in rhythmic waves. “God, you’re so big,” she moaned, her voice thick with lust. “I can feel you filling every single inch of me ... it’s better than my fantasy.”
He kept driving himself into her with a focused intensity. He wanted to feel the exact moment she peaked. He could feel it coming—the way her pussy began to spasm and clench around his shaft, pulling him deeper and tighter with every surge of her orgasm.
Paul felt her internal walls ripple, a series of violent, rhythmic contractions that clamped down on his cock like a vice. He let out a guttural sound, his hips locking into a frantic, stabbing motion that drove him as deep as he could possibly go. The sensation of her climaxing around him was overwhelming, the heat of her pussy intensifying as she shook beneath him, her breath hitching in a series of high, broken whimpers against his palm.
“Yes ... right there ... oh god, Paul!” she shrieked, the sound muffled by his hand but the vibration of it humming through her entire frame.
The pressure in Paul’s gut reached a breaking point, a searing heat that surged from his toes up to his chest. He stopped the rhythmic pounding for a second, digging his fingers deep into her hips and lunging forward one last time, burying himself to the hilt. He felt her pussy clamp down on him in a final, violent spasm, and with a guttural roar, he let go. He pumped into her with everything he had, his cock pulsing as he flooded her deep inside, the heat of his cum meeting the slickness of her arousal.
Gemma collapsed forward, her chest hitting the mattress with a soft thud, her breath coming in long, shuddering exhales. She stayed like that for a long moment, her muscles slowly unclenching from around him, the silence of the room returning, save for the sound of their synchronized, heavy breathing. Paul didn’t pull out immediately; he stayed braced over her, his forehead resting against the back of her neck, feeling the erratic beat of her heart slowing down.
“Holy shit,” Gemma whispered, her voice barely a breath. She shifted slightly, the wet, sliding sound of his cock leaving her as he finally withdrew. She rolled over onto her back, her eyes glazed and her skin flushed a deep pink from her chest up to her cheeks. She looked up at him, a lazy, satisfied smile playing on her lips. “I think ... I think I just lost my breath for the first time in my life, and it wasn’t from a stunt.”
JESS
His rhythm was harder now, less controlled, and she could hear the slap of his hips against her arse with each thrust. One of his hands left her waist and she felt it trail down, over the curve of her backside, down her thigh, until his fingers wrapped around her ankle.
He lifted her leg slightly, changing the angle, and she felt him strike something devastating inside her. Her vision whited out for a second.
“Look at them,” she panted. “Look at my feet while you fuck me.”
He made a sound like something was breaking inside him and his pace became frantic. She could feel his gaze on her feet, knew he was drinking in every detail while he pounded into her, and the knowledge of it—of being exactly what he’d fantasized about—pushed her right to the edge.
“Touch yourself,” he gritted out. “Want to feel you come.”
She wedged one hand between her body and the duvet, fingers finding her clit, and the first touch sent sparks shooting up her spine. She circled the swollen bud frantically, matching the relentless pace of his thrusts, and felt everything inside her start to spiral tighter.
“Close,” she gasped. “So close—”
His grip on her ankle tightened and he drove into her harder, deeper, like he was trying to bury himself completely inside her. The combination of his cock hitting that perfect spot and her fingers working her clit became too much, and she felt herself tip over the edge.
The orgasm ripped through her with shocking intensity. Her whole body clenched, inner muscles clamping down around him as wave after wave of pleasure rolled through her. She heard herself cry out, the sound muffled against the duvet, and distantly felt him shudder behind her.
“Jessica—fuck—” His rhythm broke entirely and he thrust deep one final time, holding himself there as he came. She felt him pulse inside her, the warmth of his release flooding her, and it triggered another aftershock that made her toes curl.
They stayed locked together for a long moment, both panting, sweat-slicked skin cooling in the quiet room. Then his grip on her ankle loosened and she felt him start to withdraw.
“Wait.” The word came out before she’d fully thought it through.
He stilled. “What?”
She shifted carefully, rolling onto her back while keeping her hips angled so he wouldn’t slip out. The movement was awkward but she managed it, and suddenly they were face to face again, him still buried inside her softening slightly but not gone.
“Stay,” she said. “Don’t pull out yet.”
Something flickered across his face—surprise, maybe confusion. “Jessica, we should probably—”
“I know what we should probably do.” She wrapped her legs around his waist, ankles crossing at the small of his back, locking him in place. A smile tugged at her lips despite the exhaustion settling into her bones. “I’m asking you not to.”
He searched her face, and she watched him trying to work out what she wanted, why she’d want it. Always analyzing, even now.
“I have fantasies too, you know,” she said quietly. “Not just about feet.”
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