Domming Daughter Dani – Part 18 of 51 – MEET THE PARENTS PART ONE

By Dutchboy

copyright: This work is released under the Creative Commons Attribution Only (CC BY) License. You can copy it, paste it, change it, try and get some other fool to pay you money for it. I don’t care. Just acknowledge my original authorship and if you change anything, be upfront about the fact that you changed it. If that ain’t a square deal, I’ll kiss your ass.

Story codes: mdom, male dominant, incest, inc, true, bdsm, some pedo, spanking, mmf and mff. 

Email: mrdutchmaster@gmail.com

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This is a fast forward. 

I remember the crazy sequence of events that followed that night with plenty of clarity and detail, but... yaknow... this is a jerk story after all, even if it’s a long and wandering jerk story. 

You don’t give a flying fuck about character development. You just want to skip to the next episodic sex scene.

I understand. That’s cool.

Here are a few details you need to know, and they are kind of important to the plot points that follow.

- Troy showed no further expectation for another freebie from Caryn. Odd, but he didn’t. The remainder of our time in Troy’s apartment was rather uneventful. Caryn stayed every night and he said nothing more about it.

- I did such a good job as a waiter at Chan’s that my dishwashing days were behind me. I was promoted. More money in my pocket.

- I was happy as hell to get back in my dorm room.

- At least I was happy until Cliff broke the news. He was moving into his own room in a different dorm, the brand new dorm that most of the pre-law students had first dibs on. I was bummed. Turned out to be a HUGE blessing becaaaaaaaause...

- Caryn was served notice that she had flunked her way out of school. She had to vacate her dorm room. She was homeless once more. She didn’t go home. She spent a week living with me in my dorm room. That’s how long it took us to realize how fucking easy it was for a girl to live in a guy’s dorm room without anyone asking questions. Yes, she took showers in the guys’ bathroom. There were stalls and curtains in our shower room, not a big open Grecian bathhouse sausagefest. It wasn’t unusual to see a guy standing guard at the shower room entrance while his girlfriend cleaned up. The college cafeteria validated using a little sticker on the back of our Student IDs. Caryn had got her sticker when she registered for second semester. Nobody asked for her student ID back, so Caryn’s meals were taken care of. Her former Resident Assistant saw Caryn eating in the cafeteria at least once a day and she never said a word.

- Once Caryn had moved into my dorm room, I realized that the only person who might actually call me was Peggy. I unplugged my phone from the jack and threw it in the closet. I didn’t want Caryn answering the phone while I was in class.

- Caryn absolutely lucked into a job working in the accounting department of the food services division of the college. Pay was pretty mediocre to start, but when you’re living for free, 14 grand a year is a small fortune. It was in 1987. Caryn was assistant to the head accounting lady, and the head accounting lady was an old Scottish farmer’s daughter herself and she absolutely adored Caryn. It was a huge turn of luck.

- I started training Caryn to fuck and suck to my standards. There was a lot of barking and spanking and some slapping. Caryn accepted it. She adjusted to the new normal. Sex got a lot better. Our relationship deepened.

- I did really well in my studies. My grades actually went from B’s to straight A’s. Constant sex was good for my brain.

- After Caryn banked her fourth or fifth paycheck, she started looking for her own apartment. There was no shortage of cheap housing around the college. She found an affordable furnished place that looked like the Ritz when compared to Troy’s hovel apartment.

- Before I knew it, I was spending almost every night at Caryn’s place. Once I started buying groceries with my tip money, we began calling it “our apartment.” My insecurity about where I’d spend my Summers was solved. One day in late Spring I just gathered the last of my belongings, handed my dorm room key to my RA, and walked my stuff to Caryn’s apartment. I ate at one of the the campus dining halls for the rest of the semester (Caryn and I walked there together), but I never went back to my room.

Right after school ended that year I met Caryn’s mom and dad. It was a surprise. She never talked about her family (and I never talked about my family). Caryn met me at the door one day after class. She was so nervous that her neck was covered in hives. Her parents would be there in a few hours. I offered to clear out, but Caryn wouldn’t hear of it. “No!: she shouted. “Don’t go. Don’t leave my side, okay?”

Ewwwwkay. Caryn’s parents arrived in separate cars. I thought that was odd. 

Her mom was tiny too. Same big tits. Same badonkadonk caboose. Caryn’s mom had once been a looker, but she’d be worn hard by farm work and the crazy hours you had to maintain to keep livestock alive and fed. Her hair was too short for my tastes, almost butch. I like my girls to look like girls. Caryn’s mom is the poster girl for why women should use all of those facial cremes and sunblocks (and maybe a little make up). If she’d taken better care of herself she would have been Certified-Prime MILF. Her body was still kickin’. 

Caryn’s dad was taller than the ladies, but not tall by guy standards. Maybe 5’ 9” or 5’ 10”. He was broad in the chest and he had a tree-trunk neck that spread from his lantern jaw nearly to the tips of his shoulders. Caryn said he had boxed in the Navy and been pretty good at it. Caryn’s dad had that ex-boxer look in his build and the ex-military look in his short hair. It was a little longer than a crop. I was long enough to make a tight wavy flip and roll on the right side of his forehead. Kind of a mini-cinnamon roll the color of a dunn cowhide. It was some style from another era and difficult to describe.

And, just as Caryn had once described him, her dad was an absolute rug. One of those guys with body hair from their scalp to the tops of their feet. He was one beleaguered Schick razor to-the-face away from being a Sasquatch. Caryn certainly came by her bunny-tail honestly.

Caryn greeted her folks with a couple of awkward hugs. I shook both of their hands. Maybe I was supposed to hug her mom, ya never know how you’re supposed to play that one. Then her dad handed her the keys to a well-worn black 1981 Monte Carlo with 170K on the odometer. Bingo. Suddenly “we” had a car. Another stroke of good fortune.

We sat around the living room and made smalltalk. Her folks seemed like salt-of-the-earth types. There was no hostility when it became obvious that we were shacking up.

Caryn’s mom offered to buy us groceries. Her dad talked me and Caryn’s mom into making the grocery run while he and Caryn stayed at the apartment and got caught up. Caryn stared daggers at me. I went along with it anyway. Free groceries, man. Who can argue with that?