(Usual Disclaimer Time: All the characters in this story are 18 years old or older, and since we're living in the wide wonderful world of porno-land here, where clichés roam free and things might get a little unrealistic from time to time, please remember it's all in good fun.)
(Author's Note: This story requires a little explanation before we get too deep into it. This is a spin-off story from my main series, Senior Year Memories, featuring hyperactive gamer girl Izzy Barnes. While it takes place in the same universe and will reference characters or concepts from it, being a Senior Year Memories expert is NOT required to enjoy this story; I'm trying to make it its own fun thing and aim to provide all appropriate context. So, while it will be familiar to longtime readers, it is meant to be accessible to newcomers as well. Fair warning, though, that Izzy's a talker.
Further, I want to thank the reader who suggested this idea, as it quite clicked with me and turned out to be a lot of fun. As always, I want to give special thanks to fellow Literotica author Lil_kitty for her excellent work as my editor and acting as a second set of eyes on this chapter, and for letting me know what did and didn't work; if you get a chance, please check out her work and drop some stars if you enjoyed, she writes some very hot and fun stories.)
CONTENT ADVISORY: This story contains a consenting, 18+, non-related couple where the girl playfully calls the guy "Daddy" a fair bit during sexytimes. If that's a turn-off for you, please turn back now instead of complaining in the comments.
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Erik Bailey liked to think of himself as an even-tempered guy, and often considered that one of his best traits. Never getting angry when he didn't have to and avoiding rash decisions had helped him build his law practice (in a boring, but certainly profitable corner of law), and by the age of 42 allowed him to live a comfortable life. He had a nice condo toward the better end of the small town of Regan Hills, California, kept almost the same athletic build and ruggedly handsome face he had in his college football days, and had even managed a fairly amicable divorce from his ex-wife. Though work commitments meant he didn't date as much as he'd have liked, he did have his options, and got out from time to time.
Life may not have been a thrill-ride for Erik, but he made do in his usual pleasant and driven manner.
Still, an even temper and a friendly disposition had done wonders for him, which is what made Norman all the more baffling to him.
Norman was his 18-year-old son with his ex-wife, Monica. While Erik was tall and handsome and friendly, Norman was none of these things. He was unpleasant and surly and looked the very definition of a video game addict that hadn't even a passing familiarity with soap or sunlight or moving any more than he had to in life. Every weekend that Erik had with Norman, rather than hanging out or going on adventures or anything that resembled the kind of father-son activity that Erik had always dreamed about doing with his boy, Norman would lock himself away in his bedroom and game, screaming the most vile and hurtful shit that Erik had ever heard at the top of his lungs and never listening when asked to calm down even a little.
Erik had gone through his rebellious phases when he was around that age, and since confronting his son about these rages hadn't worked, he'd decided to give Norman the space to work through them and understand the person he wanted to become in life... but after replacing multiple gaming systems and four TVs in Norman's bedroom over the past three years after his son's temper tantrums at having lost one silly game or another, Erik was at his wit's end.
Today was the day he realized that his hands-off approach wasn't enough.
It was just after Norman had left Erik's condo to go back to his mother's with hardly a word for his dear old dad that Erik found himself standing in his son's stinking, pigsty of a bedroom, looking at the piles of dirty clothes and stale food Norman had left out on unwashed plates and at what would be the fifth TV his son had shattered, that he found himself seriously wondering what he'd done wrong, and what could be done to fix things.
He'd... fuck, he'd have to talk with Monica about this, wouldn't he? He was still friendly with his ex-wife, but Norman was always a blind spot to her. She'd always coddled him, and thought that he could do no wrong, and no matter how much Erik had tried to discipline him, she would always undo his efforts and just enable his lazy, rage-filled habits. He loved his son, and wanted to be a part of his life, still, but this wasn't a sustainable way of living, and it sure as hell wasn't going to teach Norman anything. He'd have to teach Norman a lesson... but how?
And who would have Erik's back here? He was handling this all on his own, with no one to help him or at least commiserate with him and make his day a little better. Getting lost in work could help some with the stress, but at the end of the day, without an outlet, he was feeling lost and supremely frustrated.
Running a hand through his dark, salt and pepper-hinted hair, he let out an exasperated sigh, not looking forward to the conversation he'd have to have with Monica, and thinking that it might be best to grab a garbage bag and clean up what he could from this room first. That would stall matters long enough for him to be able to come up with an appropriate, calm argument to bring up to his ex, or at least make it very clear that he was tired of replacing TVs and gaming consoles every few months, and that his generous paycheck be damned, he wasn't going to buy Norman any more electronics.
It was right about the moment he was considering trash bags that the doorbell rang multiple times in quick succession.
Erik closed Norman's bedroom door to better contain the smell for now, then made his way downstairs. The doorbell was ringing at an almost machine gun pace by this point, as whoever was out there seemed truly insistent upon getting his attention.
He sighed, shaking his head before he unlocked the door.
"Can I help..."
Erik looked down and took in the singularly odd girl standing before him, momentarily speechless before discovering that speechlessness was a problem that this girl would never have.
"Hey there, hi, how are you? My name is Izzy Barnes, is Norman here? No of course Norman's not here, I just watched him leave a little bit ago and wanted to give a few extra minutes for you to, like, get your head on straight if that's what you needed because if you're Norman's dad, and you gotta be Norman's dad even though it doesn't look like you could be Norman's dad because you got it all going on while he doesn't, but that's not what I'm here to talk about, so, yeah, I wanted to talk to you when your head was on straight and even though it looks like you're annoyed by something that I realize might be me but also might not be, and I sincerely hope that something isn't me, you look like your head's on straight, so can I come in and talk to you for a few minutes or maybe more than a few minutes if that's alright because what I have to say is kinda, sorta, entirely really super important? I'm eighteen, so it's not weird or anything if you let me inside."
She said this with a high, perky voice, and so quickly it might as well have all been one incredibly long word. Erik doubted the girl breathed once the entire time she said this, and was taken aback by, well, everything about her.
Izzy Barnes was a tiny thing, pale and slender and the very definition of petite. At 5'2", she was easily dwarfed by Erik's own 5'11" height. Her narrow, cute face held a broad smile, while her delicate features were framed by bright blue hair, choppy and short and exactly the same shocking color as her lipstick. Lively brown eyes looked out from behind blue, horn-rimmed glasses, while multiple piercings in her ears and the small black stud in her nose practically sparkled. Petite and slender, she wore a tight green t-shirt with a trio of gold triangles set in a pyramid on it that Erik faintly recognized, cut with a high enough midriff to show her tight abs and belly button piercing, while her skirt was short enough to fall above her knees, clearly hand-made from some of the most garish and clashing pieces of fabric he had ever seen, showing off her tight legs and sandal-clad feet.
