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She was Daddy’s girl, through and through, and she had him wrapped around her finger just as much as she was around his.
The call from the school came early afternoon. He always took Friday afternoons off, worked from home, so that when she came home they could hang out together. Sometimes it was homemade pizza and a ballgame on TV, sometimes it was take-out Chinese and board games, in warm weather they would fire up the grill outside and eat on the patio, then splash in the pool until the sun set.
She never failed to delight him, his daughter. She was beautiful- although he would admit that he was biased a bit. Kind of a girl-next-door look, the every-woman, and when she had fully matured…not cute, not beautiful… ‘arresting’ was the word he would go for. Her mouth was a little too wide, her lips a little too full. Her eyes were not that wide-eyed innocence that attracted many, but they twinkled when she laughed and were often full of mischief. Her nose was perfectly straight and even, dusted with golden freckles. Round cheeks, gently curved chin, red-gold hair that was a mass of curls around her shoulders. She had a great sense of humor and a quick wit, she was intelligent and engaging. She was mature for her age- people always mistook her for a senior in college rather than high school. He himself often forgot that she was still just a teenager….which was part of the reason the phone call from the school had surprised him so.
He sat in his chair in his home office, his palms resting lightly on his knees, his head bent as he debated his next course of action. He could ground her, take away her phone and TV privileges, restrict her from the computer. Any number of scenarios popped into his head, but he couldn’t decide on any of them- he thought it best to find out her motivation for her behavior first.
Idly he scrubbed his hand along his jaw. He knew he had become too lenient with her, he knew their relationship was no longer father-daughter in the strictest sense. And he couldn’t pinpoint exactly when it happened. Lord knew she had tested him in her early teen years. Small rebellions compared to some of the stories he had heard, and he counted himself among the lucky ones. Still, he had ruled with a firm hand when she had toed the line. Oh, he had stopped spanking her about the time she had turned 12…about the time when the privilege of talking to her friends on the phone had become a moral imperative, and the loss of such was apparently a fate worse than death. That had worked for a while. Then grounding her to the house had worked for a year or two, until the thrill of driving privileges was what had kept her from toeing the line too much. Then she had just…settled. Matured a little, he supposed. They rarely had any of the heated arguments she used to provoke him into, he mused. Hell, had it really been a year and a half since that last big fight? Yep, that’s when things had really started to change. That big blow out 18 months before about how he had been working so late every evening, weekends too. He had missed almost every volleyball game, her band concert, AND the spring musical. Well, he wasn’t really that sorry to have missed the last two, he grinned. But still, it had been so important to her, and he had let her down so many times. She had basically been living by herself all day, every day. Getting herself to school, to work, to the games, to rehearsals, eating alone, falling asleep in an empty house night after night.
She had even taken over the damn grocery shopping and bill paying, keeping up the laundry and cleaning the house. It was no damn wonder she had been desperate to get out, to get some sort of attention. And in had swooped some jerk-off college kid to flirt with her and make her feel good, then left her standing alone one night in the cold with no jacket, no ride, no idea where in the hell she was in some hick-town 45 minutes away. The messages on his voice mail when he had finally checked them at 11:30 that night had scared the shit out of him- he had assumed she was in bed sleeping…the ride to get her had been the longest ride of his life, and the ride home the hardest. She had been so mad, so scared, so upset….and so had he. But now they had a routine that worked, and probably a little too well. She still spent time with her friends, was still active in the extra curriculars at school but…
He stood and headed for the kitchen, for something cool to drink. They were a good team, he mused, taking a glass down from the cabinet. They shared the responsibilities of the house, the chores. They laughed together, argued together, cooked together, folded laundry together. It was natural for her to curl up against him in the oversized recliner, or for him to stretch out and lay his head in her lap while they watched TV. He kissed her in the morning when he went to work, she kissed his cheek at night when she went to bed. Almost like a married couple, only without the sex.
He canlı bahis choked, nearly spit out his tea when that thought crossed his mind. Jesus, when had he become a perv? He grabbed a paper towel and wiped off his chin, the counter where the tea had sloshed. Okay, so he was a man, he thought. And didn’t men supposedly think about sex like 3 times a minute or something? He cleared his throat uncomfortably, his face warming slightly. He took another drink, then set the glass down with a purpose when his hand trembled slightly. Okay, okay. Stop and think about this. Analyze. Why does it make you uncomfortable-the thought of sex with her? Because it’s my daughter! Yeah, but she’s a woman. And you like women. Their scent, their hair. Their smaller hands, their delicate skin. My daughter! A woman. With curved hips that move just right, with breasts the perfect size, with long legs and soft belly and rounded butt and shit, SHIT.
He dropped heavily into a chair at the table, his head in his hands. What the hell was wrong with him? He had to reach down and readjust himself slightly, his slacks suddenly tight across the fly. He forced a breath out, inhaled deeply, tried to slow his thoughts just a little. Analyze, analyze. Why are you aroused? Sex. Sex with who? Sex with my daughter. He gave up and lowered his head to the table with a thunk. SHIT!
The thrill of the thought was undeniable. His arousal was undeniable. He forced himself to think about sex with another girl, any girl. Her friends, younger girls. He even went to the computer, searched for images. Daddy’s girl, slutty babysitter, naughty young coeds, teen sex, anything he could think of. Okay, sigh of relief, it wasn’t the idea of random young girls of any particular age. He erased the search string, cleared the browser history, and tipped back in the office chair, spun slightly to the left to look out the window, letting his mind just flow. Okay, so yeah, he was attracted to his girl. And he could admit, in hindsight, that they had a flirtation together. He didn’t for a second believe that she was actively lusting after him, any more than he had been actively lusting after her. But was it there? In the back of her head, too, were the same thoughts there? It was way more than lust, that he could say definitively. Was she nearly in love with him, the grown-up man/woman love like he figured he was with her? He’d been around the block a time or two, and could honestly answer himself that judging by her clues, her responses to him, they way they talked and laughed and shared their time and looked at each other….
He scrubbed his hands over his face, then opened his mind and let the thoughts flow. Images poured into him- her laughing up at him, eyes twinkling; the way her lips pursed when she pressed her sweet kisses to his cheek. The way her arms wrapped around him, the way her body curved just right against his when they sat in the recliner together. The way her t-shirts shifted over her chest, the way her shorts curved so sweetly over her rear. The way her lips would look, swollen and damp from his kisses, the way her eyes would cloud when he stroked his hands over her. The way her head would tip back and her eyes close and her body arch up when he levered over her, the way her thighs would part for him, giving him access….
The sound of the key turning in the lock, the door knob rattling slightly made him jump guiltily. He spun back to the desk, grabbed a random file and threw it open on the keyboard in front of him, fumbled a pen into his hand. He was aching, hard, his face flushed, his heart pounding. He kept his head down, his eyes closing briefly. He opened them in time to see her waltz through the door, her backpack hooked casually over one shoulder, her ipod clearly blasting in her ears. She glanced through the doorway at him, smiled and sort of half-waved, then turned and kicked off her shoes near the door, slung her back pack next to them. Her shirt was slightly wrinkled, her hair untidy. And it was the wispy strands working their way out of the pony tail, the drooping hair band in the back that did it. He slammed his chair back from the desk, followed her down the hall to the kitchen. He was mad. No, he was furious. How dare she? He couldn’t believe the audacity of her actions. After everything that had happened, after the way she had filled his thoughts this afternoon, and she had behaved that way at school?
He stopped outside the kitchen doorway, forced himself to take a deep breath. He was being irrational, he felt irrational as hell. He had to get himself under control.
A movement just outside the kitchen startled her. She twisted her head, then took a deep breath. Just Dad, she laughed at herself. But she sobered instantly. He knew. She could see it on his face. A hard ball of despair curled in her stomach, and her shoulders suddenly felt heavy. She slowly put back the apple she was holding back into the silver bowl on the counter, then turned to face him. bahis siteleri Might as well get it over with.
Now he stood fully in the kitchen, arms crossed over his chest, his legs planted. Crap, he looked really mad. She felt her heart kick up a notch, couldn’t control the slight tremor that shook her hands. She met his gaze once, then looked at the floor. Her arms felt awkward, so she tucked her hands into the small of her back and waited. She felt her face heat up as the silence stretched on interminably.
“You want to tell me about it?” His voice was rough, huskier than usual, and tight. She felt the tears prick at the back of her eyelids, but she blinked them away. Her throat already started to burn, and she had to swallow a few times to talk around the lump that had lodged there.
“Remember that guy who keeps bothering me? Making fun of me, calling me names and stuff? He started in again. And it was really getting to me. And you know how you said I should just ignore him, and prove him wrong when the time was right? I thought it was the right time.” She shrugged one shoulder, her chin still lowered.
Her dad was quiet, waiting. She knew he wanted her to continue and she really didn’t want to. Her face heated up even more, and she squirmed uncomfortably, her school uniform now hot and itchy. She shifted a little.
“He kept calling me a chicken shit, and saying that I was too much of a goody-goody to do anything daring. And I got really mad. I know I should have ignored him, but I was just so sick of it, Dad. And I told him that I wasn’t a goody-goody or a chicken shit, and he dared me to prove it. So…I did.” She screwed her eyes up tight, that falling, sinking feeling filling her belly. She knew he was going to be disappointed. That he already was, and there was nothing she dreaded more than disappointing him.
“Tell me, please.”
She snuck a peek at him, then closed her eyes tightly again. “He dared me to not wear anything under my school uniform the rest of the day. So I went into the bathroom after 3rd period and took off my bra and panties. Then at lunch, even though I showed them to him in my backpack, he wanted proof. So..” She had to take a deep breath, brace herself, and everything came out in a rush. “We went down to the dugouts where all the kids hide to smoke during lunch, and I wasn’t going to show him, but he had to have proof, so first I let him look down my shirt just enough to see that I wasn’t wearing a bra, and then he was going to reach under my skirt and he had just started to when the security officer came down to bust the smokers. And so we got into trouble.” Her face was flaming now, the heat probably readable on every freaking satellite image in space. At least it was out now, and he would probably punish her. She figured at least losing the cell phone, probably grounded too. And all because of some idiot jock with fewer brain cells than a rock wanted to cop a feel. She knew that now, but at the time, she had so just wanted to shut him up and prove him wrong.
She clasped her hands in front of her now, rocked back on her heels slightly, and looked up at her dad. He was just staring at her, with the oddest expression on his face. She licked her lips nervously. “I wasn’t trying to do anything…bad. I just wanted to get him off my case. I know I shouldn’t have.” She looked at his face again, still in that odd, unreadable expression. “I really am sorry, Dad”, she said quietly.
“How much of you did he see? Down your shirt?”
She shrugged. “:Not too much. I just unbuttoned it enough, leaned over.”
“Show me.”
Her eyes grew round and she gawked at her dad. She couldn’t help but shrink back slightly against the counter when he moved a few steps closer. Her heart tripped, then sped up until it was racing.
His voice sounded kinda thick, and almost rough, like he had a cold or something. “I need you to show me- I have to know so that I understand exactly what happened. Show me exactly what you showed him.”
She couldn’t believe what he was asking. Was he serious?
One look at his face assured him that he was dead serious. Oh God, oh God. Was she really going to let her dad look down her shirt?
He said her name quietly, just once. And she knew that tone of voice.
If she thought her heart was beating fast before, she was wrong. It pounded furiously now as she tried to get her fumbling fingers to work the buttons on her shirt. Her stomach twisted a little bit as she undid the second button, then the third, and finally the fourth. She pulled the sides of her blouse open a little, so the bra she had put back on after being in the principal’s office was showing. She pulled the heavier material of the jumper forward away from her body, bent forward at the waist just enough, like she had for that jerk in the dugout- but she didn’t remember her nipples being this hard, almost aching, or her breasts feeling so heavy. She could feel his gaze bahis şirketleri on her, without looking at him knew his eyes were watching her face, then looking down her shirt. She hesitated just a moment, then lifted her upper body straight again. Her fingers toyed with her open buttons, but when that drew his eyes again she dropped her hands, clenching and unclenching them in the material of her jumper. Seriously, did her dad just look down her shirt? And seriously, why was she feeling all shivery now? God, she was so twitchy, she couldn’t force her body to stay still. Her chest was tight, she felt like she was breathing syrup.
“Where were his hands?”
She almost moaned. She didn’t know that she had been waiting so tensely for him to ask until the shiver of…was it relief?…passed through her. She felt so out of sorts, and she just couldn’t get her mind to think clearly. She swallowed thickly, lowered her gaze to the floor, her face heating. “Um. He was sitting down, on the bench in the dugout…” and before she had finished, her dad was dragging the kitchen chair back from the table and sitting in it, leaning forward slightly. Unthinkingly she stepped closer, until she was just to the left of his knees, so close she could feel the heat from him. Her voice cracked, just a little, when she continued “his hand was, um, on my right leg.”
She jumped when her dad’s hand, large and hard and so hot, cupped her thigh just above her kneecap.
“Here?”
She shook her head, but his head was bent, his gaze cast downward. “No. It was…higher.”
His hand slid up another 4 inches, disappeared from her view under the hem of her skirt. His finger tips brushed over the skin of her left inner thigh, making her swallow hard. She felt his fingers flex on her skin once, then they were still. Her body was thrumming now, she could feel herself getting damp between her legs, and she felt like everything was surreal. She had never felt this way, not even when she and her ex-boyfriend had done it those few times.
“Higher still?”
She hesitated, wondered if she should tell the truth, wondering how far things would go if she lied. Her mind raced over the options, and she made her decision. Her own voice was husky as she replied “Yes. And…further in between…”
His head turned then, met hers. He knew. She knew in an instant that he knew she was lying. His eyes were hot, so dark and hot looking up at her, but he didn’t call her bluff. Instead he hand slid further between her legs, then glided upward, so high that if he moved his thumb even the slightest bit it would brush against her panties. She gasped, shocked at the fact that his had was…there, shocked at the way her thighs tightened briefly around his hand, the way her knees threatened to buckle just to have the pressure of his touch right where she needed it most. Her inner muscles clenched once, then again, and the slight smile at the corner of his mouth told her he knew what her reaction was. He dragged his hand out from between her legs, sat up in the chair, braced his hands on his upper thighs. She couldn’t help but look at how the front of his pants was distended, leaving no doubt that he was excited too. She looked away, embarrassed, but back again before she was able to drag her gaze to his face.
His hand reached out and squeezed hers once, then just held it.
“I am disappointed in you, baby girl. But I also know why you did what you did. And you know that your actions have consequences.”
She nodded, and her stomach pitched slightly. She could tell by the look on his face that he was not talking about losing the cellphone or being grounded. Now his thumb was stroking over the back of her hand in a light caress that sent her pulse all jittery. This wasn’t what she expected at all. Everything was so different- her dad’s attitude, his expression, his voice, his actions. It was almost, almost, like he was reading her deepest thoughts. The way he was touching her, the way he was looking at her…like a man looked at a woman. If she was being truly honest with herself, the way she wanted him to look at her.
She had figured it would pass, this crush she had on him. No, more than a crush. She knew that most girls went through a stage where they crushed on their dad. She had read about it in her psychology classes, had done some reading on the internet, even. Dads were safe, strong, supportive, comforting, loving, and it was a natural thing. But her feelings had grown more, expanded. Even though she had dated a few guys, had even gone all the way once or twice, no one had measured up to the standard she had. No one came close to the relationship she had with her dad. And okay, so she had imagined some things. Fantasized a little about him holding her, kissing her. So what? It wasn’t like it was illegal. And so she had pretended that they lived together, not father and daughter, but man and women. Kind of like playing house. Who cared? It was all in her head, anyway.
She involuntarily glanced down at his hand linked with hers, his thumb caressing her skin, then the definite arousal behind his fly. Um…maybe it wasn’t all in her head, after all…..
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