Heather's Fake ID
When my slutty friend invites me for drinks at a local dive, things get out of hand
Heather sat on my lap in the back of the Double Down Saloon with a vodka and Red Bull in her hand. She wore her old school uniform skirt, and her hair was up in pigtails. Her t-shirt was torn to shreds, barely covered her small tits, and had "Cherry" written on it with a pink heart.
I knew I was in trouble the second she walked in, but it was the sort of mess I hadn't felt since the pandemic started. When she sat down on my lap with her drink in hand, I ran a hand up her thigh because why the fuck not? If we had ever kissed, I didn't remember it, but when you plop your cute ass on my lap dressed like that, I assume it's an invitation.
"Daddy, please!" she said, mockingly pushing my hand away. "Someone might see us."
"I don't know what the hell has gotten into you, but I like it," I said, pulling the front of her shirt out enough for me to peer down it and glimpse her bare breasts.
"Daddy, don't be gross!" she said, slapping me playfully.
"Me? Gross? Don't be absurd. What would I want with a little girl like you anyway?"
"You love it," she whispered, standing up and bending over me, ensuring everyone else in the bar got a nice view of whatever she wore under that tiny plaid sacrament she pretended was a skirt.
"I'm not complaining," I said, standing up beside her. I loomed as best I could, holding my whiskey in one hand as I continued to look down her shirt. "But seriously, kid, what's going on? I'm happy to get drunk on a Tuesday with an old friend dressed like a fifteen-year-old, but what's the deal?"
Heather crossed her arms and looked at me as if she might tear me open, read me, and sew me back up. I could see the gears working in her pretty head, and I wasn't sure if I should drag her into the bathroom or attempt an intervention.
"You're the grossest guy I know," she finally said. She bit her lip and twirled her skirt as I gawked at her, unable to look away. "I'm feeling creepy, and my partners are too nice for this side of Heather. You are a creep, aren't you?"
She raised an eyebrow (and the hem of her skirt) as she said it, and I pulled her to me with both hands on the backs of her thighs. She stumbled into me as I reached up and cupped her ass, realizing quickly she had chosen to wear nothing under her skirt.
How they let her get away with it in high school was not something I needed to contemplate.
"What do you think, Babygirl? Who else would sneak a kid like you into a dive bar just to stick a hand up your skirt?"
"Fuck," she muttered as I cautiously slid one hand up the front of her thigh on the inside. When my hand brushed the lips of her cunt, she bit her lip again, and I was dangerously close to coming in my pants.
"Okay, you fuckers, it's eight. Mandy didn't check IDs, but I'm not fucking around."
Dan, the bouncer, knew me. A little. But that wasn't necessarily a good thing. My reputation at the Double Down wasn't exactly gentile. But I shrugged as he came closer because, at the end of the day, it didn't fucker matter. Heather was twenty-six, even if she looked half that.
I showed him my license, and he scanned it before returning it. Heather reached into her knee-high sock and pulled out hers as well. She gave me a quick look before handing it to him. I shook my head and tried to pull her back to me when Dan grabbed her arm.
"Are you fucking kidding me? Montana? This doesn't even look real. Also, it says you turn twenty-one in two weeks, so even if it was real, you sure as fuck aren't drinking here."
"It's real; I swear, mister. It's just a typo. I'm almost twenty-two, I promise."
"Jesus Fuck," he said as I tried to close my mouth without success. What the hell was going on? "Come on, kid, how old are you?"
Heather looked at me, then turned back to him as she crossed her arms, pushing up her tits. She leaned in, giving him a nice view before fluttering her eyelashes.
"I just turned sixteen," she said guiltily.
"Mothefucker," Dan said, grabbing me as well. "You two are getting the hell out of here now. And you, what the hell is wrong with you? Bringing a fucking minor in here and feeling her up like a fucking perv? Jesus Christ."
Without ceremony, Heather and I were hauled out the front door and tossed onto the sidewalk of Avenue A like the two biggest degenerates in the East Village. I shook him off me as I stood up, but Heather gave him the finger before laughing like a goddamn loon.
"What the fuck, Heather?" I asked before she jumped me. I caught her in my arms, my hands under her ass once more as she wrapped her legs around me. When she kissed me full on the mouth though, I stopped caring altogether.
Instead, I kissed her back, pushed her against the wall of the building next door, and then put a hand on her throat.
"You are a dirty little girl. Why the hell do you have a fake ID that says you're younger than you are? And a bad one at that."
"You love it," she said, reaching down and gripping my hard cock in one hand. "Besides, it was fun, wasn't it? He was mad at me. But so disappointed in you."
"You are in so much trouble," I said, putting her down but not letting her go. I grabbed her wrist tightly and nearly dragged her around the corner to Second St, where I found a few dark steps leading to the basement door of a dark building. The second the shadows found us, I had my hand back on her throat as my other moved between her legs.
"Please, Daddy, I'm sorry. I didn't think he'd find out!" she moaned as I fingered her roughly.
"You don't deserve to call me Daddy, playing a trick like that. Now I can't go back there because they think I'm fucking your slutty little sixteen-year-old cunt."
"Please, I thought it was a good fake! I did! I'm twenty, I promise; please don't, mister."
Heather's lips were red and wet as I felt her soak my hand, and I was so wrapped up in our little story that nothing else mattered. I kissed her hard as I freed my cock, and she fell back against the brick wall with a smile that told me everything.
She watched me stroke myself as she licked her lips, and with a shy smile, she lifted her skirt and touched herself as well.
"I'm sorry, Daddy; I didn't mean to be bad. Please don't fuck me."
"Turn around," I growled, falling on her like a hungry dog. I turned her as I lifted her skirt, and the city burned behind us with a pulse that said nothing. I gripped her ass, pulling one cheek to the side as I stared at her cunt in the darkness.
And then, as she begged me not to, I rubbed against her, lifted her just right, and slammed my hard cock into her willing body.
"Oh fuck," she cried, barely trying to muffle her voice. "Don't stop, Daddy, please don't stop."
I fucked her hard and fast until she was on her toes, braced against the wall with my hands on her hips. I lifted her lithe body and buried myself within her, giving her every bit of filthy anger I had in me.
"You are such a teasing little slut," I said, slamming into her again and again. "But Daddy's going to make sure you know what happens to little girls who tease."
"Oh shit, yes," Heather said, one hand now snaked between her legs as I pounded her. As I felt the tension build up within me, she turned just enough to look at me over her shoulder.
"Just don't come in me, Daddy. Anything but that."
"Don't be silly," I said, wrapping my arms around her as I felt myself let go. "Where else would Daddy come?"
And with that, I buried myself inside her as she thrust back onto me. She clenched around me, bit her hand, and screamed into her fist as she came with me. I didn't stop fucking her, even after I had come, and she met every bit of fierce perversion I threw at her.
"So much, Daddy," she moaned, her hand still between her legs. "You came in me so much."
When I finally put her down, Heather turned to face me with a hint of actual shyness in her eyes. She touched my face, stood up on her toes, and kissed me gently on the lips.
"You're so gross. Thank you."
"Me? You're the one with the fake fake ID."
"It worked, didn't it?"
"Yeah, as long as I never want to drink there again."
"Let's go the Library and get fucked up instead."
After we put ourselves back together, I took her hand and realized that a few stiff drinks were exactly what I needed. She skipped across the street to the next bar. The bouncer at the door looked more bored than Dan, but my breath caught in my throat when Heather pulled out her ID.
"Twenty-six?" he said, raising an eyebrow at her NY license. "Sure, whatever."
He waved us in, and I saddled up to the Library Bar with Heather beside me.
"So you do have a real one."
"Of course I do. Besides, Dan took that one. Can you believe it? How the hell am I supposed to get dirty old men in trouble now?"
"Heather, somehow I don't think that's going to be a fucking problem for you. Now let's get some whiskey in us before I take you over my knee or something."
"Now you're just making fun promises," she said, waving the bartender down. I slapped her ass, sat down, and ordered a round of much-needed drinks.
Fucking Heather, I thought as she raised her shot glass to mine. I think I'm in love.
If you’d like to read last night’s story for paid subscribers, Safeword Inception, along with all my previous paid letters, here’s a little March discount for you.