Cultural Exchange 1 - An Unexpected Ally (Patreon)

I've been pestering my parents for years about the student exchange program. I would never have imagined it would turn me into a full slut.

When I entered the preparatoria (sort of like high school; I was 15 back then), I found out they had this exchange program. I was more than thrilled; I had always wanted to travel abroad, and now it seemed like I had the chance. The first year the exchange was to Japan. I started nagging them immediately about me going, but they said a hard no. I was too young and naive, apparently. I know my folks; sometimes there's room for negotiating, and sometimes you hit a brick wall. This was a stone wall, laced with barbed wire and poison ivy.

With some persistence they said that maybe when I turned 18 it would be possible. But only if I helped them pay for the expensive trip. So it began: me working on every vacation I got, selling cookies and salty treats, washing cars, and walking dogs; I even considered selling feet pics online, but I was underage.

In my final year the school announced that year's trip. Destination: France.

I had saved almost half the cost of the trip, and since I had pestered my parents about it every year, they had to be ready to make good on their word.

"Ok, so, the school has released the info for this year's exchange program; it's one month in France with a local family. I'll spend a month there," I said, trying to sound as confident as I could. "Then a girl my age from that same family will come here and spend a month with us."

The mood at the dining table was dense; I could tell they expected it but hoped it wouldn't happen.

"You gave me your word. I saved enough money to pay for half the trip, and I'm already 18, so technically you can't stop me. I mean, you could, but I hope you don't," I concluded my rant. I had so much more to tell them, but the nervousness of the Moment made me choke on my words.

"We figured you would get all hyped up about this," Dad started talking. I could tell my Mom was somewhere between angry and annoyed; when she was in that mood, she always let Dad do the talking. "It's the last summer break before college; it will bring you zero academic value and could potentially be hurtful to the onboarding process at college. We really don't think it's a good idea for you to go."

It may sound hopeless, but with the replies I had the years prior, this one let a shimmer of hope shine through. It wasn't a yes, but it sure as hell wasn't a no, and I was going to cling to that.

The next few weeks I had conversations with both of them, and with each one separately, all of them basically went the same way; they were worried about the academic worth and my college start. Somehow it felt rehearsed, like an answer they both agreed on, and neither seemed to budge. But my 18 years in this family had taught me something: a drunk Dad is an honest Dad.

So I kept trying without being too pushy, biding my time, waiting for the chance to see my Dad inebriated. After a few weeks the opportunity arose. Dad organized a BBQ (or carne asada, as we call it), and some of his friends would come over. I know them; all they need is some music and flowing beers, and they get right to the sweet spot of talking without it being nonsense.

Somewhere around midnight, after Mom had gone to sleep and most people had left with only Dad's bff remaining, I made my move. "So, Dad, have you had a chance to think about the summer exchange?"

"No, sweetie, now's not the time," he said in his slow, slurred speech.

"Come on Dad, just say yes! Pleaaaaase!" I pleaded with the best puppy eyes I could muster. Only my puppy eyes caught the wrong recipient.

"Don't be such a bitch, David; let the girl at least say her piece," that was Marcos, Dad's longest-standing friend. If I had him on my side, I knew I could accomplish something.

"Fine, say what you have to say," Dad relented.

"So, I've been dying, absolutely dying, to go on the exchange program from my prepa, but Mom and Dad have been adamant about me not being ready, saying it's not for underage girls. And now that I'm 18, they are saying it will mean nothing academically and still won't let me go. I even saved to pay for half the trip, and still all I get is a no," I said, keeping my puppy eyes and looking at Marcos and Dad back and forth.

"You know, Mia went to one of those student exchanges, and she came back with better English and way more mature; this could be good," Marcos said, but my Dad shot him a death glare, and he shut right up.

Mia was Marco's daughter; she's a couple of years older than me and has always been the cool girl in my life. Now I had more tools to put pressure on.

"You haven't even really given me any real reason to say no, just the same excuse you and Mom rehearsed," there, I said it.

"Yes, why don't we hear your reasoning for saying no? I mean, she has the money and the interest, and I would say, based on how it went for Mia, it's a good chance for Ximena to come out of her shell," Marcos said; this time he didn't stop with Dad's death glare.

"Look, I know you mean well, but this is something to discuss as a family," Dad said.

"And he's Uncle Marcos; he's like a brother to you, you've said it, and in times like these you lean on family for advice, right?" I said. I hate using his words against him, but if "Uncle" Marcos is so heavily on my side, there must be a reason; he surely can see through the bullshit of his excuses as much as I do.

"Oh, you fucking, ugh, I'll be right back." He stood up, stumbled a bit, and walked towards the toilet.

"You have no idea how much you are helping me right now. I owe you one, a huge one," I said.

"Whenever kid, just never use those sad eyes on me, I would melt," he replied.

"Oh, don't say that; I love you so much. I really, really owe you," I said using the same gaze I used before.

He shifted uncomfortably in his chair as I approached him a bit. He's always been good-looking, I mean, for a guy in his forties. He has a square jaw with a permanent 5 o'clock shadow and a few bags under his eyes that make him look way more serious than he actually is. He has that Dad bod that some girls seem to love, and, until that night, I hadn't really understood.

"We haven't even convinced him of anything; wait until he says yes to acquire a debt," he said with an awkward smile.

"If that happens, I'll be your slave for a week," I said, and a tense silence filled the backyard where we were hanging. "I mean, like for cleaning your house or doing your groceries."

"Yes, sure, that was obvious," he said, but he shifted in his chair again, and I noticed why he was getting uncomfortable. Under his pants, hidden by the darkness of the night, the shadow of a tent formed.

Just then Dad returned from the toilet; his face looked freshly washed, and he was a bit more in control of his step.

"Can I get a refill?" he asked me, and I nodded and walked towards the kitchen.

"Do you want something, Uncle Marcos?" I asked.

"Uhm, no, I mean, yes, another beer, please," he replied. I could sense his nervousness; I only hoped Dad wouldn't.

I walked back to the backyard, carrying three opened beer bottles.

"Oh, wow, we're all out today," Dad said as I passed the beers and took a sip of mine. I rarely drink in front of him, and I usually ask for his permission. And even then, beer is not my drink of choice, but it's what was available, and I needed a drink for the hard discussion that I figured we would have.

"I'm already 18; I can drink," I said with a smirk, trying to sound confident.

"So, about that trip," Marcos said; he was adamant about helping me. "Why don't you explain the real reasons for not letting the kid go?"

"I've already said it; the academic value is null and the timing is lousy; she would be away on important dates for his onboarding to college, and then we would have to host a foreigner just before she starts classes," Dad doubled down.

"Ok, that might be true, but, having been there, those weeks are not that important, and the experiences she'll have living abroad for a month are unique. Look, based on what I saw with Mia, it's deeper than any onboarding she could have at college. But you know this; we have talked about it before. That's what I meant when I said you need to tell the REAL reasons; cut the bullshit, man. Is it money?" Marcos attacked Dad like a hawk. I found myself enthralled with his words, noticing how his mouth opened and closed and how much his tongue moved inside it.

"Fuck no, it's not money," Dad said, offended. "Those are the reasons."

"No way, Dad. If that were true, you would've told me years ago. I think you don't trust me, and that's why you don't want me to go," I said.

"Of course I trust you; it's not that either, it's just…" he said but froze. "It's more complicated than that, that's all I can say."

Marcos' face lit up, as if a lightbulb had just been switched on, and then he turned to see me. "Kid, I think that it's better if you don't press on this matter. I'm sure your Dad has a really good reason to say no, and you should respect his judgment," he said.

I could feel tears forming in my eyes; my only supporter had just turned on me. I felt that all hope was lost.

"Good night then," I said as I stood up. I didn't want either of them to see me cry.

I walked into the house, and just as I burst into tears, I felt a hand on my shoulder. It was Marcos. He held me in his arms, and I clung to him with all my strength.

He held me tight too and then whispered in my ear, "I haven't given up yet. But there's a lot of history you don't know. Let me talk to him alone. I still think I can convince him."

His words filled me with joy and a new feeling of gratitude towards my Dad's friend. I kept holding him tight, now pressing my body with intent into his. My hips approached his, and I could feel something growing between us.

"You have no idea how much I want this; the slave thing for a week is still on the table for us," I whispered too as I broke the embrace.

I said goodbye to him, giving him a kiss on the cheek that landed a little too close to his mouth. I licked my lips, and he visibly arranged his boner as he turned around, returning to my Dad.

I'm not ashamed to confess that I returned to my room and got naked the second I closed the door.

I leaned on the door and opened my legs. I remembered the feeling of his cock growing hard between us; I'm pretty sure his hands traveled further down my back than they should. I could feel his fingers grabbing tightly the top of my ass, and I wished he would've slid his hands under my pants and touched my bare skin.

I've noticed him many times staring at my breasts. I have never dressed provocatively, but that hasn't stopped him from ogling at my D cups. Something came over me that night. I grabbed my phone and took a series of selfies, first of my face. Then I opened the shot, and my cleavage was visible.

Then my full breasts were on display, and to finish, my bare body, fully naked, was visible.

I pondered what to do with those pictures. I ventured to look out my window; I could see them both sitting in the backyard, talking. I looked at them for a while; they seemed to get into a heated argument. While I spied on them I was playing idly with my pussy, making it more and more wet as time went by. Suddenly Dad stood up and walked away.

I grabbed my phone again and sent a one-time pic to Marcos; it was the one where half my face and half my tits were visible, barely decent but enticing, with the caption: "One week."

I saw him grab his phone, and his body jerked when he saw the content of the message. He looked around to see if someone could've seen him, and just then my middle finger slid right into my pussy, making me moan.

My finger started pumping inside my pussy as my other hand squeezed my tits. I looked outside, and my heart skipped a beat; Dad was alone.

Then I got a message from Marcos. A one-time pic. I opened it, and it was him in boxers, clearly in the bathroom downstairs, his hard cock almost peeking from the leg of his underwear, and the caption was "One week."

I debated whether or not to send a spicier pic, but I decided against it. Instead, I sent a simple text message that read: "Can't wait."

I flopped onto my bed and used two fingers to fuck myself. My moans became louder but were still muffled by the music downstairs. I climbed on top of my largest, hardest pillow and started grinding on it. My fingers rubbed my clit as I bounced and slid on the pillow.

I could feel my big breasts flopping around. I had always found that slight discomfort hot, riding someone so hard that my tits bounce and hurt. This was my first time dreaming of Marcos being under me with his hard cock splitting me open.

My pillow took all my lust for Marcos; I soon was shivering and panting. I knew I was close, and then I heard Marcos' strident laughter coming from beyond my window; it made me lose control.

I gave in to my horniness; I flicked my clit faster and came on top of my fake Marcos as I heard his laugh. My legs shook and I could feel my virgin asshole pucker as I gasped for air. My body collapsed into my bed, and I pinched my nipples until sleep took me.

The next morning a loud knock at my door woke me up. "Xime?" It was Mom's voice from the other side of the door. I was groggy but quickly understood I was naked on top of the covers with a pillow that reeked of my intimacy between my legs. I discarded the pillow behind my bed and jumped into the sheets, just in time for my folks to walk in.

"Good morning, sunshine!" My Dad gave me a gleeful greeting that I had a hard time processing so early. I mean, it was over 10 AM, but it was early for me on a Saturday.

Mom gave me a suspicious look when she saw me all covered on a summer morning, but she knew I sometimes sleep topless, so she didn't say a thing.

"So your Mom and I have been talking about the summer exchange program," Dad said. I could feel my ears perk up as if I were a puppy that just heard the word "play."

"Yes, and while we are still concerned about your start dates for college, we're willing to start viewing the possibility of you taking the trip," Dad continued.

I almost jumped out of bed with joy when I heard those words, but I remembered my situation under the sheets, so I refrained myself. "Really? OMG, you have no idea how happy you make me. I would hug you, but..." I said, and Mom interrupted me.

"But you're almost naked under there; we get it. Get ready and we'll talk about the details over breakfast," she said.

"Let's go get chilaquiles, my treat," I said excitedly, and they both nodded in agreement.

As soon as they left the room, I started jumping on the bed like a crazy person; I was ecstatic. I put on whatever clothes I had and went downstairs. My parents were already waiting for me.

At the restaurant we started the talk.

"So, first of all, we're not saying you have the permission yet, just that we're open to the possibility," Mom said. She's always been more pragmatic.

I was tempted to ask them what caused this change, but I decided not to push my luck. I could always get an answer from my "Uncle" later.

"Ok, so going forward," Dad said, "you need to find out about the full cost, with flights and whatever is not included on the trip. You also have to do some thorough research about the cultural activities you'll be part of; remember, this wouldn't be a vacation, it's a cultural exchange."

Little did they know, I had already looked through everything they were asking and more; I was ready for their questions and rebuttals. I pulled out a folder I had on my phone and showed them the info. I had estimated the actual cost of the whole month: flights, transportation, meals, trips, museum costs, and even souvenir expenses.

They were shocked seeing how much time I had invested in this. That's when I told them the real shocker. "Based on those numbers I have, I'm ready to pay for half of the full cost, not only

"I know it's still a lot of money, but short of selling feet pics online, I don't know where I can earn enough, so that's where we're at. If you say no, that's it, but at least I know I did my best," I finished my pitch. My parents spent more than a minute in silence, exchanging looks and thinking. It almost seemed like they had a single mind at that point, communicating without actually saying a word.

"Ok, you have actually surprised us on many fronts today. It's clear for us that this isn't just a whim; you're actually serious and are treating this as a grown-up rather than a little girl chasing a fantasy. We're proud of you," Dad said. I could feel my cheeks flush as I heard him.

"Please don't sell your feet online, honey," Mom said. "It's not that you don't have gorgeous feet, just the weirdos that must be buying them…"

I turned to see Dad; he was nodding, but I could see a glimmer of shame in his eyes.

"Yes, no selling pictures to weirdos online," Dad said. "Now, the trip is still quite costly. If we manage to cut some expenses around the house, we could afford it. I'm not saying yes; I'm just saying we will look into it, for real this time."

"Ok, I'll share my files with you. If you need more info or think I missed something, we can talk," I said. I was the happiest I had been since I discovered orgasms.

When we returned home, I sent a message to Marcos that said, "I don't know what you told Dad, but he's actually considering the exchange program. You are amazing!"

"It's the least I can do for my favorite 'niece,'" he replied.

I was getting ready to shower, and I was naked, just about to wrap myself in a towel as we started chatting. I lay in bed while I wrote a response. "Now I just need for him to say yes, and we can start actually planning. I'm so excited!"

"He'll say yes; he's just pretending to think about it, you have my word," was his reply.

I thought about his mouth saying those words; I could practically hear his voice as if he were in my room, watching me lay naked in bed.

"You really must want me to be your slave then. Have you thought about what you'll make me do for you?" I replied.

"I have a few things in mind, but I don't want to scare you," he replied.

"I don't scare easily; besides, we agreed I would help you clean your house, right?" I texted. As I waited for his reply, I searched online for an image.

"Oh, that was for real? Yeah, I guess that could work," he replied.

"I could use this as a uniform that whole week," I replied and sent the image I had found. It was of a porn star wearing a faux maid outfit, with her large breasts spilling out of the tiny top and a black see-through thong barely hidden by a laughably small white skirt.

"Damn, Ximena, if you wear that, I would have to stop being your Uncle for good," he replied.

"I never said you would be at the house while I clean. It's just for my comfort," I replied.

"Nudity would be more comfortable," he replied.

"True, too bad you won't be there to see it," I replied. While we chatted, I picked up the pillow I had been humping the night before and put it between my legs once more. I started humping it lightly as we talked.

"Maybe I could set a few cameras around the house," he replied.

"Then I would wear the baggiest clothes I could find, but if I were to be cleaning and you happened to forget something and came back unexpectedly. Well, it's your house after all," I replied.

I turned to see the pillow, and a large wet stain was now evident on the gray fabric, along with the dry stains from the night before. An idea formed in my mind.

I placed the pillow on the floor and stood over it, with one foot on each side. I snapped a pic like that and sent it to him. My bare legs were visible, and the pussy stains on the pillow were evident.

"Do you think I could sell foot pics? I hear it can be a good business," I wrote and sent it along with the photo.

"Don't do that to me; I'm a sucker for pretty feet like yours," he replied.

I took another pic, a close-up, opening my toes as much as I could and hit send.

"Is that a yes?" I asked.

"Why is that pillow soaking between your feet?" he asked; this time the pillow was too evident, I guess.

"Oh, that. Meet my current boyfriend; he's not too hung, but gets the job done," I said and sent him another pic, this time a close-up of the wet marks on the fabric.

"Girl, you need to get a new boyfriend, at least one that vibrates," he replied.

"I would, but all my money is going to my trip. For now, Mr. Pillow will do," I replied and sent a pic of me kneeling with the pillow between my legs; just my legs, knees, and the pillow were visible, but it was enticing enough.

"Damn it, if you keep that up, I might do something stupid," he said.

I propped myself up and took a pic of me standing naked over the pillow, with my glistening pussy in sight. Just as I was about to send it, I got cold feet and cropped it just enough to keep my pussy out of the shot.

"Keep what up?" I said and sent the pic.

"Do you know what you're causing?" he asked.

I took another pic; this one was a close-up of my soaking fingers with the pillow as background.

"Show me," I typed and sent the pic.

I expected something like what we had exchanged the night before, a boxer shot or something.

A few minutes passed, and I received a one-time video. I didn't think he would be capable of something like that. In the video I saw a tablet showing the close-up picture of my feet, and then a hard cock appeared. "This is for you, Ximenita," his voice sounded on the video as his hand started jerking his thick shaft.

In under a minute he started grunting, and a thick rope of cum landed on top of the tablet, right between my feet. More and more cum erupted from his penis until the tablet was well covered in his spunk. That's where the video ended.

I must've seen the video 4 times as my fingers slid into my pussy. I was drenched, and 3 fingers went right in. I started jumping up and down on the pillow and my fingers, trying to feel as if Marcos' hard cock were inside me, fucking me hard.

My horniness acted on my behalf and started recording a video, a pan up, starting from my legs and quickly rising to see my face. In the shot I saw my face as I rode my hand and called Marcos' name between moans and grunts. Every now and then my tits entered the frame; I didn't care. I came loudly and showed the camera my soaking fingers, which I promptly licked.

Before I could think it through, I sent the video. Not as a one-time message but a normal video he would probably save.

A moment of clarity hit me, and I threw the phone on my bed and ran to the shower. I showered way longer than I usually do, trying to wash the guilt of seducing my Dad's best friend.

When I was back in my room, I hesitantly grabbed my phone and noticed just one notification, a text message: "I'm glad things are working out for you; let me know if you need more help softening your old man."

I opened our chat and could see no trace of all the sexy messages; all that remained was the 'normal' conversation. For a second I doubted if it had all been in my head, but my wet pillow and the distinct feeling in my uterus of having just come told me otherwise.

"Thanks, I surely will," I replied. I think he was saving me some embarrassment by pretending nothing had happened, but the gallery on my phone told a different story.

Later that day I talked again with my parents. Apparently they treated this with as much seriousness as I had and had come to a conclusion…