Tara rsquo s Breeding
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Tara, My Daughter's FriendChapter 1 free porn video
I held my hands up like I do after scrubbing for surgery. I didn't know where to put them. At my sides would place a hand on the bare thigh of the young girl in her soccer uniform sitting next to me, the one sandwiched in the middle of the car's back seat. If I dropped them in front, they would settle on Tara's legs, my daughter's fourteen-year-old friend perched on my lap. My arms were tiring; I needed to lower them. What I really wanted to do was grab Tara to hold her still, to stop her bouncing and shifting, to stop my damn cock from hardening under her teenage butt.
How did I end up in this predicament, in the back seat of a car with five giggling, chattering teenage girls? It was Murphy's doing. Not Ben Murphy, the head of Urology at my hospital. The infamous Murphy who said, "Anything that can go wrong, will go wrong."
What had begun as a pleasant October afternoon in Phoenix turned rather chilly as the storm clouds rolled in. The temperature dropped at least ten degrees while we were at the park. I shivered on the sidelines watching my teenage daughter and the other young girls scamper around the soccer field in their black shorts and bright yellow sleeveless shirts. The girls waiting their turn hugged their bodies for warmth as they stomped their feet.
My daughter had just re-entered the game. Helen played forward which meant most other parents hated me. Everyone wanted their daughter to score and the forwards had the best opportunity. Helen dribbled the ball down the middle of the field, skirting defenders as she skipped around them with the grace of a feline. My eyes darted between Helen and Tara, the other forward. Tara kept pace with Helen about ten yards to her left. I'd seen this play many times in practice and games. At just the right moment, Helen would pass the ball to Tara. The defenders would change direction and be helpless when Tara kicked the ball back to Helen who'd be in front of the goal in position to score. But Helen never got the ball to her teammate. While trying to make the pass, a defender went for the ball. Their legs collided and Helen twirled before crashing to the ground. My breath caught when I saw the way she fell with her leg under her.
Helen writhed on the grass clutching her knee. I dashed onto the field at a gallop not even hearing the referee blow the whistle, not caring if the game was still going on. All I knew was that my sweet daughter was hurt and needed her daddy. I shoved one, and then another girl aside, and then I dropped to a knee at Helen's side. She tried to hide her crying, but her wet cheeks betrayed her. Being an orthopedic surgeon was a blessing as I felt her knee and then tested its movement by straightening and bending her leg. She cried out, but I didn't think there was much damage. It felt like a strain. I scooped Helen up and she wrapped her arms around my neck with the side of her face on my shoulder as I carried her to the sideline where my wife was waiting.
"Let's go home," I said to my wife. "We need to put ice on her knee."
"No, not yet," Helen cried out. "The game's almost over. I wanna see the end."
"But your knee needs--"
"Please, Daddy, can't we stay for the end? It don't hurt so much now. And we have to take some of the girls home anyway. They can't leave now. Please. Please."
Play had resumed while I was talking to Helen and I never saw the errant kick, but felt the impact of the ball. It hit my eyeglasses which created a sharp pain on the bridge of my nose. I almost dropped my daughter, but managed to hold her as I staggered backwards. A girl from the other team sprinted over and stopped to pick up my disfigured eyeglasses. She handed me the bent metal frame and the lens that had popped out. I stared at her dumbly and then Helen took the ruined eyeglasses from her. The girl retrieved the ball and ran back onto the field.
I stood there with my daughter in my arms and watched the last five scoreless minutes of the game with blurry vision. It ended in a two-two tie. After the coach gave her after-game talk, the four girls we had brought to the game gathered in front of me, all talking at the same time to Helen. My wife packed up our stuff and I carried Helen to the car with the troop of girls in tow.
I had driven to the park with my wife in the front passenger seat of our Lexus. I always considered SUVs too large and clunky, but when I had squeezed five teenage girls in the back I realized their convenience. Since Helen and Tara were the smallest, they sat on other girls' laps.
The girls took the same seats they had on the trip to the park. I waited for the three largest girls to pile in first and then Tara. I was still holding Helen and guided her onto her friend's lap. She cried out as her knee bent.
I looked at my wife and said, "She's going to have to sit in the front. There's more room."
My wife nodded and I placed Helen in the front passenger seat. Then I walked around to the driver's side to find my wife sitting behind the steering wheel.
"What are you doing?" I asked.
"Driving."
"I'll drive."
"Yeah, right. Without your glasses? C'mon, get in the back. We have to get home and take care of Helen's knee."
Stunned, I stared into the back of the car. The girls were making room for me by shifting in the tight quarters. Two girls were stacked behind my wife and two in the middle, Tara on top. I stared at the small space they left me.
"Steve, don't dawdle," my wife said. "Get in. We have to go."
I shuffled around the back of the car to the right back door. When I climbed inside, four pairs of teenage eyes were staring at me. To fit, I pushed up against the girls in the middle and then closed the door. Then I placed my hands in my lap and stared forward.
My wife turned on the car and drove off. But she immediately hit the brake which jostled us in the back and caused a few giggles.
"I can't see out of the rearview mirror," she said. "Tara, you're going to have to sit on Mr. Starr's lap."
I stopped breathing, but Tara didn't hesitate. She placed her hands on the front passenger seat as she slid off her friend and sidled in front of me. The low ceiling made her bend forward and my eyes dropped to her jutting butt. I snatched my hands away an instant before she plopped down in my lap. I remained still, like a statue, with my hands in the air not knowing where to place them.
Antsy as all teenage girls, Tara leaned forward to say something to Helen and then dropped back into my lap, wiggling to get comfortable. Then she turned to talk to one of the other girls next to us. But she didn't only turn her head. Her lower body twisted, grinding her butt into my lap ... and cock. When she leaned forward to talk to Helen again, she lingered with her chin on the seatback and her butt in the air. I stared at it, at its roundness, at the outline of her panties showing through the black shorts, at the space between her parted thighs. My cock instantly grew.
About to adjust my hard cock, my eyes must have opened wide when she sat back down. Her usual wiggle started, but she stopped and remained as stiff as my cock. I couldn't tell if she was breathing, but I sure wasn't. And then she moved slightly, grinding her butt into my cock before leaning back against me with the top of her head under my chin.
Tara ceased talking. With her body against mine, I felt her shoulders rise and fall with each deep breath. I willed my cock to soften. I did multiplication tables in my head, thought about work, but my mind kept returning to Tara's soft buttocks pressed against my cock. And although she no longer shifted in my lap to talk to her friends, the movement of the car caused her to slightly bounce and slide.
I heard a horn blast and our car swerved to the right. It caught all of us in the back off guard and we did a choreographed lean to the left. I felt Tara toppling over so I wrapped my arms around her. The car steadied and we returned to our straight, upright positions. My right arm lay across Tara's midsection with a hand on her left hip and my other arm was higher, draped across her chest. It took a few seconds to realize I was holding her right breast. I yanked my hand away as if I had touched a hot coal, and then I removed my other arm. Once again I held my hands in the air, holding my breath, waiting for Tara to say something.
She leaned forward and asked my wife, "Can you turn on the heat?"
My wife glanced over her shoulder and then looked forward again. "Sorry, it's broken. There's a blanket on the floor, though."
"Okay." Tara turned to the side. "Heather, can you get the blanket? I'm cold."
"Yeah, me too," the girl in the middle said. She bent forward and pulled the crumpled blanket off the floor. Three sets of hands spread it out and covered all of us in the back.
Tara held the blanket under her chin and leaned back against me. She squirmed in my lap. To get comfortable? She had to have felt my hard-on. And then she tilted her head back to look up at me.
"Thanks for catching me," she whispered.
"I thought you were going to fall." I was also whispering. The other girls were chatting away.
"I was. I'm glad you caught me."
"My pleasure."
Tara ground her butt onto my cock and whispered, "Yeah, I know."
I was speechless ... panic-stricken. She knew. I guess I knew that she knew all along, but part of me tried to believe otherwise. What was she thinking? I was old enough to be her father. My daughter was her age and they were best friends. She was like part of the family. And my cock was hard under her soft rump.
"Mr. Starr, you look kinda funny with your hands like that," she whispered.
"Well, it's kind of crowded back here and there's really no place for them."
"You could hold me like you did before. This way if Mrs. Starr makes a turn like before I won't fall."
I did feel silly holding my hands up. And I was tiring. So when Tara lifted the blanket away from her body I slipped my arms underneath. My right arm returned to where it had been before with my hand on her hip, but I placed my left arm just above it, also on her midsection. She felt warm and soft. My cock twitched and I thought I heard a giggle.
Tara held the blanket to her neck with one hand and placed her other one on top of my arms. We sat like that for a while and then she looked up again.
"You can hold me like before," she said.
"What do you mean?"
She tugged my forearm up, but when my hand brushed the underside of her breast I jerked it back down.
We sat in silence again, her little body jostling in my lap with the movement of the car, my arms wrapped around her body, her breathing heavy, my cock hard against her ass, my mind in turmoil.
And then Tara began rocking. It started so gently that I didn't realize it wasn't the movement of the car. But soon she clamped the tops of her feet against the backs of my calves and the rocking increased. I peeked over the top of her head and saw that her eyes were closed and her lips parted. Her ass moved back and forth over my hard cock. It took all my willpower not to thrust my hips up.
I looked at the girls next to us. They were discussing a boy or the relationship between a boy and girl or some such thing teenage girls talk about that is beyond my comprehension. I glanced at the back of my wife's head. Her eyes were locked on the road. I couldn't see Helen, but ever since she was a baby she'd fall asleep in the car and I thought that was what happened. I wanted to tell Tara to sit still. Truthfully, I should have told her to sit still, but I didn't. I liked the feeling of her rump rubbing my cock.
Tara's forearm lay across my two arms at a right angle, forming a cross. That meant her hand was either on her thigh or between her legs. And her arm was moving. Not a lot, but ever so gently. I slid one hand along the waistband of her shorts and noticed there was a gap between it and her body. When I bumped into her arm I stopped. Her hand was inside her shorts.
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