A Reeeally FILFY Story

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*Author’s note:

Hi horny readers. This story features Alexis, who has flitted from one adventure to another without much rhyme or reason, like those tiny humming birds hovering like helicopters over my sugar-water feeder. It is not a series because I don’t have the attention span for that.

All that being said, I want to state for the record that Alexis and every other character in this story is over 18 with salacious thoughts on their minds and eventually nothing on their bodies. Any resemblance to any reader of this story is intentional, because why wouldn’t you want to be part of the fun? It’s why we read these stories with one hand!

I had a point to make in this author’s note … what was it? Oh, yeah, I want to explain the title to my story. I am making a stand for women. I want equal opportunity. I want an acronym for girls which is as recognizable as MILF (Mothers I’d Like to Fuck). I wish for FILF. Yes, that means, “Fathers I’d Like to Fuck”. I will lead a march on Washington with bare-naked ladies wielding crude signs chanting, “We Want FILF; We Want FILF”.

And it just so happens I have a story about FILF. Luckily my story also revolves around my favorite holiday of the year, Halloween. Otherwise this story would be thrown into the FILF category of which there is NONE! Since this is a contest submission, feel free to celebrate or censure, commend or condemn, clap or cringe but always vote your FILFY mind.


How can I adequately describe myself? My biased mother says I am willowy and that I will be very happy some day when gravity has less to drag downward. My mean brothers nick-named me Nebraska because my chest was as flat as the plains of the Midwestern state. They saluted me when I walked by because they said I was a flagpole. Nature played another cruel trick on me by maintaining my twiggy physique into adulthood. Let’s just say I am breast challenged like Olive Oyl, the long-suffering girlfriend of Popeye. Remember the lyrics to Popeye’s song?

I’m Popeye the Sailor Man,
I lives in a garbage can,
I loves to go swimmin’
With bare naked women.
I’m Popeye the Sailor Man!

That’s how I remember it anyway. Oh, in case this is your first encounter with me, Alexis, you will find my stories a long and winding road. My chest may be flat but my tales are sure bumpy. Trust me, my long-suffering teachers, parents, friends and loyal readers know this and for the most part, put up with it (I think).

Back to descriptions; I’m sure you get it that I’m not one of those 38 Cs so often described in Lit stories. Let’s just say I shop for bras with 13 year old girls in the training section. I have short blond hair, a boyish attitude and a killer ass, if I do say so myself. Thank God for that small concession made my genetic code. Oh, and a smart mouth that gets me into trouble occasionally. Which leads me back to this story; See? I told you I have wanderlust.

My first year college roommate came from a very wealthy Southern family. She was so rich she could afford to use two first names: Ashley Rose Cornwallis. Ashley Rose insisted that she be called by both names so I typically called her Ash. Ashley Rose was a classic beauty with luxurious black hair, deep brown eyes, olive skin, high cheek bones and a perfectly proportioned body. She had a sexual aura about her that caused men and boys to grovel and whine for scraps of her attention like untrained puppies at the dinner table. You think I would be a little envious of her wouldn’t you? Not so fast, bucko. Have you ever heard of leftovers? Even as trained in the art of man management as Ashley Rose was, she could not handle more than 3 or 4 suitors at any one time. Thus, many times yours truly got the leftovers.

At first, I had to endure the inevitable questions to Ashley Rose like, “Did your little sister come for a visit?” My middle finger gave the frat boys my answer until they finally realized I was a permanent planet in Ashley Rose’s solar system, just like they hoped to be. Of course I was Venus whereas they were Uranus. Get it? Gawd, I crack myself up sometimes.

Anyhoo, the first day I first met Ash at college I also met her parents. I hope you aren’t so narrow-minded as to stereotype them because they are rich Southerners. Well, in this case go right ahead. Mother (Ashley Rose always called her that. It could actually be her legal name.) was so perfect and regal I felt like I should curtsy and kiss her ring. Mother checked me out like a horse buyer at the annual thoroughbred auction when I introduced myself. I was prepared to show her my teeth to pass inspection, if necessary.

There was something a little off about Mother though. In my demented little mind I suspected she was on some major meds because she lost the thread of our conversations rather quickly and had this vacant smile plastered on her face most of the time. This paragraph could be construed as foreshadowing if you care about such things. Stay with me class; there will be short quiz at canlı bahis the end of this story.

Daddy was Charles Howard Cornwallis IV, I shit you not. Charles was Charles to Mother, Daddy to Ash and Charlie to me (I addressed him as Mr. Cornwallis IV with tongue in cheek but he quickly put an end to that by saying with Southern honey dripping off his accent, “Alexis, ya’ll call me Charlie or I will have to report you to the Dean of Students for being sassy to a substantial alumnus and donor!”). Did I mention the Cornwallis family was filthy rich too?

Back to Charlie; um, how can I say this without appearing too superficial? Charlie was so freaking handsome he made George Clooney look like a half-breed mutt in a dog shelter. He was so good-looking Brad couldn’t hang on to Angelina for 10 seconds if Charlie made a play for her. J-Lo would have left Marc Anthony earlier if she thought Charlie was available. You could combine the genetic code of all the men in People’s “Sexiest Man Alive” issue and still not equal Charlie’s hunkiness. Just sayin’.

Ok, more on the first meeting with the Cornwallis fam. Remember the first day at college; you are nervous about meeting your roommate; you wonder if you will fit in; you are busy moving all your shit into the room? I was already in the room and my parents gone when Ashley Rose swept in with her entourage. No kidding, she was on campus 20 seconds before half the Sig Ep house surrounded her and offered to carry her considerable belongings to the room. It looked like the Sherpas carrying baggage for Sir Edmund Hillary up Mount Everest.

I doubt Ashley Rose has ever been nervous or unsure about anything in her short life. We had corresponded online and done the normal email exchange with photos and all. I knew she was pretty and sophisticated but I didn’t recognize how easily she could manipulate circumstances. She saw that I had staked out the better half of the room so within moments of that first tentative hug she suggested that I would be so much happier on the other side of the room because of her “condition”, which she hinted was proximity to the suite’s bathroom.

I’m can be a hard ass when necessary. I am the only girl with 3 big brothers. They gave me so much shit over the years I could open a poop factory and never run out of inventory. However, Ashley Rose was sooo charming about it I didn’t really feel like I was being maneuvered. Besides, I was ogling her Daddy so much I barely realized the frat slaves were already moving my meager belongings to the other side of the room.

Then the time came for Mother and Daddy to leave. Mother said her goodbyes to Ashley Rose and patted my head as she walked/staggered out the door (Hey! Where’s my dog treat, bitch?). Ashley Rose and Daddy, however, were locked in an embrace that belied normal father-daughter goodbyes. I gave them a pass on the hugging because it was obvious Ashley Rose was leaving home for the first time and she was apparently closer to her dad than her mom.

It was the KISS that got my attention. Holy Lip Locks, Batman. My Dad gets embarrassed when I give him a tiny little peck on the cheek. Charles Howard Cornwallis IV and Ashley Rose Cornwallis were making out like teenagers behind the football bleachers on a Friday night. I’m not a prude but I was shocked at this scene. I thought it was just the hillbillies in Butcher Holler that practiced family togetherness, not the upper crust. My face was so flushed with embarrassment even the roots of my blond hair turned red.

When the KISS was finally over they both looked at me with what I can only describe as a silent message of, “what do you think about that, Alexis Noel?”. Charlie approached me with his arms open for what I thought was going to be a goodbye hug. I was so flustered all I could do was comply. He crushed me against his muscular body so hard I thought my spine was going to snap. What caused me even greater mind warp was that he had a raging hard-on that was pressing against my tummy. I glanced at Ashley Rose out of the corner of my eye and saw her doing a Mona Lisa impression. Kinda like she knew this was going to happen. Kinda like she planned on Alexis becoming the ham in the Cornwallis sandwich. Even in my distress, I was getting a little damp down below. Oh my God, you are not in Kansas anymore Alexis!

After that mind-boggling opening episode of the Cornwallis-Noel roommate merger, life settled down into normal college routines of class, study and par-tays. Ashley Rose and I got along amazingly well considering how different we were. As I said earlier, I was a good wingman (wing-girl for the PC) for her truly astonishing number of suitors. She was like a hot Hollywood property and I was the snotty receptionist at the front desk. The frat boys learned early and painfully that they should not take skinny little Alexis for granted.

One other thing about college life; when you share a room with someone else you get to know them pretty well. After the original shock of watching Ash kiss her Dad like a Hoover vacuum cleaner, the late night phone calls from Daddy were even more ear-opening. bahis siteleri Ash would answer her cell and greet her father with her sugary voice. She would cuddle in bed with her phone and not even pretend to be quiet. I knew this was phone sex because how the phone call progressed. Her voice would get real husky and one time she said breathlessly, “Daddy, listen to how wet I am”. Holy crap, she was fingering herself with her cell held next to her wet pussy! I will admit to slipping my own hand down my panties because the talk was so hot. I was so wound up in the sex talk I nearly forgot she who she was talking to!

Our first semester flew by quickly and it was soon late October. Ashley Rose had told me about her family tradition of celebrating Halloween with a huge formal ball. Not a party; a ball. She insisted that I come to her home that weekend for this event. Being a good sport I agreed, even though my experience was limited to silly high school proms.

Another mind blower was when a freaking limo came to pick us up for the trip to the Cornwallis estate! It was several hundred miles to their home but Ashley Rose and I hit the champagne cache pretty hard on the way so the time passed quickly. We were both pretty loopy by the time the big black hearse stopped in front of a huge iron gate that was the only opening in a massive, red brick fence that rivaled the Great Wall of China.

“Cornwallis” was spelled in wrought iron within the gate. My mouth was hanging so far open an entire bee hive could have opened up a colony inside. In the far distance a huge white mansion stood on a hill like the one in “Gone With the Wind”. My finger was pointing at this fantasy house and I was trying to say something but I couldn’t get it out of my mouth. Ashley Rose did that Mona Lisa thing again but this time she hugged me and said, “Welcome to my home, roomie”. Oh, and one more thing; she kissed me right on the lips. Not a quick friend kiss; this was the real deal. It was my first girl kiss in my sheltered life and I was so shocked I didn’t resist at all. Wowser.

In the fog of champagne and the limo kiss we were driven up the long drive to the Cornwallis mansion. Normally I’m not at a loss for words but this occasion was different. This was the country mouse visiting the city mouse except this was the country and I was from the city but you probably get my meaning. Mother was “resting” according to the maid who opened the door for us. The maid said “Mister Cornwallis” was out tending the horses and wanted us to join him after we were settled.

I was stumbling into furniture and statues as I gawked at the splendor of this home. My family is so middle class we are pictured in the dictionary as that. If I didn’t have a scholarship to our fancy-schmancy college I could never dream of attending there. Thus I would never have met Ashley Rose Cornwallis (or Daddy, heh heh).

Ashley Rose showed me my bedroom which had connecting French doors to her room. She explained the arrangement was because her Daddy had hoped for another daughter but it never happened. After a quick tour of the mansion we headed out to the horse stables with another bottle of bubbly to greet Daddy.

Daddy (Charlie) was leaning against a pristine, white fence watching a number of horses cavort around the pasture. Ashley Rose snuck up behind him and threw her arms around him in a tight embrace. I could not see her hands but it was apparent to me that she was doing more than an airport pat down. I was trying real hard to be nonchalant so I kept slugging down the champagne like it was a paying job.

When they finally broke away from each other Charlie gave me another one of his patented crusher hugs. Again, I could feel his hard penis pressing against me. My head was already swimming with the alcohol but toss in the sexuality of that hug and I was reeling like a drunk on a Saturday night bender. Ashley Rose came over and we all did a little group hug. Charlie slipped his strong hand down on my tush while this new dynamic was happening. Hello Mr. Cornwallis the IV!

The three of us finally broke apart and looking me right in the eye, Charlie said,

“Welcome to our home, Alexis. Ashley Rose and I want you to feel a part of our family in every way. We sure hope this will be a memorable weekend for you.”

The two of them exchanged the Mona Lisa smiles again.

I was getting the drift of what might happen this weekend and it was confusing me at the same time as it was exciting me. However, like I do way too often, when I’m nervous or excited I change the subject to deflect unfamiliar feelings. And I had plenty to drink to lower my inhibitions. So I pointed to the horses in the pasture and asked if they had any fillies. Charlie looked at me funny and said they bred horses, so yes, but questioned why I asked.

I said I had a story about a filly if they would like to hear it. Before they had a chance to respond I launched into my politically incorrect story which was as follows:

This guy who owns a horse farm gets a call from a friend.

The friend says, “I know this midget with a bahis şirketleri speech impediment who wants to buy a horse, and I’m sending him over.”

The midget arrives, and the owner asks him if he wants a male or female horse.

“A female horth,” the midget replies. So the owner shows him one.

“Nith looking horth. Can I see her mouf?”

So the owner picks up the midget and shows him the horse’s teeth.

“Nith mouf, can I see her eyeth?”

So the owner picks up the midget and shows him her eyes.

“OK, what about the earsth?”

Now the owner is beginning to get a little pissed, but he picks up the midget one more time and shows him her ears.

“Okay, finally, I would like to see her twat.”

With that, the owner loses all patience, picks up the midget, and rubs his face on the horse’s twat, then drops him to the ground.

Shaking his wet face, the midget says ruefully, “Perhapth I should rephrase that. I would like to thee the horth run.”

After the punch line I was hee-hawing like a donkey that would never, ever grace the lush pastures of the Cornwallis estate. Ashley Rose and Charlie were both smiling politely and looking at each other like “who let this lunatic through the gate?”. I finally calmed down enough to realize they didn’t appreciate the hilarity of my joke so I poured another glass of champagne and held up the glass and stated loudly, “Bottoms up!”

Well, bottoms up turned out to be my bottom down on the ground. I didn’t realize how much this fine wine had affected me until that moment. Charlie rushed over and picked me up in his muscular arms and declared that I needed a little rest time before the party. So, lucky little Lexi got carried all the way up to her room by the hottest father I’ve ever been around. I snuggled against his chest and inhaled his manly scent like a coon hound let off the leash (see how Southern I was becoming?).

Ashley Rose pulled the covers down on my bed and Charlie deposited me gently on the soft sheets. I vaguely heard Ashley state that I would be more comfortable without my shoes and clothes so she started removing my shoes and socks. In my alcoholic stupor I heard her tell her Daddy that he should take off my top while she worked on my jeans. There was some tugging and pulling to get my clothes off. Even though I was pretty groggy, I do remember the extra touches that went far beyond getting me comfortable. Hmmm, sweet dreams…

When I woke up it was completely dark outside. I was disoriented and my head was pounding from the evil alcohol. There were some odd noises coming from Ashley’s room so as I slipped out of my bed to investigate, I realized I was naked. Since I couldn’t see my clothes without turning on a light I tiptoed nude over to the French doors separating our rooms. The doors had little panes of glass that nearly covered the whole door but the tiny windows were covered with a gauzy curtain material.

I pulled aside the curtain enough to peek into Ashley Rose’s room. There was a lamp on her bedside table that was lit so the room clearly visible. When I focused on her bed I got the shock of my life. Holy shit, Ashley’s head was bobbing up and down on a very erect penis that belonged to you know who. Charlie was stroking Ashley’s raven hair as she licked and sucked away on her Daddy’s rigid rod. Even though I knew that Ashley Rose had an incestuous affair going on with her father because of all the blatant clues given to me, it was a wicked curve ball thrown to this batter to see it with my own innocent eyes. My mind reeled about the taboo nature of what I was witnessing. I wondered what went through their minds when they chose this path of illicit love.

Rather than judging the morality of their actions, I quickly became turned on by the sight of my college roommate sucking her Daddy’s cock. It was a good looking specimen in my limited experience. Charlie’s circumcised penis head was gleaming with Ashley’s saliva and looked like a mushroom on a very long stalk. His dick was not that long or thick but it was so perfectly shaped I couldn’t help but wonder how it would fit into my hungry mouth. Adding to the beauty this man, Charlie was completely devoid of pubic hair. Wow, I never thought of a man daring to go bare! Ashley Rose had one hand cupping her Daddy’s shiny balls and the other busy stroking Charlie’s muscular chest (no hair there either, dear readers). Charlie was lovingly watching his daughter’s incestuous ministrations with his head propped up on a couple oversized pillows.

I’d seen Ashley Rose naked at college, of course. She was totally uninhibited about walking around in her birthday suit after a shower or getting ready for bed. Both she and I shaved our pussies bare but that’s where the similarities ended. Her breasts were perfectly formed and seemed to defy Newton’s law of gravity. Her dark nipples literally seemed to point to the sky in thanks to their creator, like a wide receiver pointed up to the heavens after scoring a touchdown. Ashley’s hips were shapely and curvy with an impossibly narrow waist. Because her pubes were waxed off, her pussy lips were prominent and puffy and when she bent over, her inner lips were quite dark, particularly in contrast with her innermost pink. In summary, Ashley Rose was like a goddess that the Greeks created statues for.

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