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(This is my very first story, but I would love critique/suggestions on it. I know that it’s from the father’s point of view, and it was a challenge to write it. There’s a part two, also, but I’ll wait to see how you guys liked it.)Please rate and comment! I wake up with a jolt when I hear the front door slam closed. Surprised at myself for falling asleep on the couch with the reports I was supposed to be reading sitting on my chest, I open my eyes the tiniest bit and see you tip-toeing into the lounge; it must be around four if you’ve just come home from school. You look down at me for a second and I let my eyes close, continuing to feign sleep. There’s a a quiet shuffle of footfalls as you go to the kitchen; the opening rattle and muffled ‘thunk!’ of the fridge door as you grab yourself a drink before coming back into the lounge. I chance opening my eyes again and see you standing with your back to me, bending over as you put down your school bag, opening a magazine or something in front of you. I try my hardest not to let a long sigh as I take in the sight of my beautiful daughter; the vision of your perfectly formed figure under that private school uniform makes the thousands of dollars I spend every month are more than worth it. The v-neck sleeveless jersey hugs your form, the white tails of the fitted shirt poke out just underneath. As my gaze wanders down over your hips I take a minute to wonder if you’re rolling up that pleated plaid skirt – the way you’re bent at the waist shows off a tantalizing amount of your slender thighs, your slender calves covered by dark knee-high socks. I know I shouldn’t… I wish I could I would stare at you forever, but I can feel my arousal getting to me already, feeling myself getting harder staring at my little girl’s long, slender legs. Suddenly there’s a sharp hiss and I squeeze my eyes shut, willing my cock to stop in its tracks, trying to rid my imagination from the image of you. I know that you’re 18, but that still doesn’t make it right. What seems like a year passes with no sound at all and me not daring to open my eyes again before I hear the shuffle of your feet and then your light footsteps as you run up the stairs, taking two steps at a time. Finally I open my eyes, sitting up, then standing as quietly as I can, trying istanbul travesti to minimize the rustle of my papers as I put them down on the coffee table. I think about the small hiss I heard; it sounded like the hiss of a soda bottle being opened, but I was pretty sure we only had juice in the fridge. I padded my way into the kitchen, not entirely sure why I was trying to keep the noise down, and took a look in the fridge: grape juice, cranberry, orange juice… and one of my beers is missing. Right. My beautiful, innocent little baby girl is stealing her daddy’s beer? I let the fridge door close silently, thinking about what else you might be trying to get away with right under my nose. I climb the stairs quietly, crossing the hallway to your room. You bedroom door, adorned with Hello Kitty stickers and about a hundred glittery stars scattered randomly all over it, is open just a crack. I put my hand on the lever, my jaw set, ready to burst in and catch you red-handed… then I hear your voice, giggly and high-pitched as you talk on the phone. My fingers still wrapped around the handle, I lean into the door jam, gazing through the opening. You’re sitting up on the edge of the bed, one leg tucked under the other, that shortened skirt of yours high up on your thighs; a beer – my beer! – in one hand, the other resting on your knee, the phone cradled against your shoulder. “No…wasn’t like that! No! I mean it was… it was passionate! … It was not sleazy!… Okay… okay! Do you want me to tell you? …Kristen! Do you want me to tell you what really happened and not Audrey’s fucked-up porno fantasy?” I raised one eyebrow both at your language and whatever it is you’re talking about. Sleazy? Porno fantasy? What exactly were you getting up to? “So I was coming out of English class and crossing the quad behind the art rooms… to meet you and Megan… I know I didn’t meet you! I’m trying to tell you why! Okay… so I was coming up behind the art rooms when Adam grabs my arm and kinda… well, he pushed me against the wall… uh huh… and his eyes looked so intense and… I know!.. and then he leaned in, real slow, looking at me the whole time, and suddenly we’re kissing, looking straight at each other, and then he’s like… his whole istanbul travestileri body is pushing against mine and his hand was kinda… on my leg and I could feel his fingers under my skirt, on my hips but it’s almost like I couldn’t feel that… why? Because! That’s why!” You seem to have gone suddenly shy with your friend, but alone in your room you could obviously remember exactly why; the hand on your knee was now idly stroking the inside of your thigh, circling a little higher this time. “Ohmygod, Kristen, do I have to spell it out? Because I could feel him, y’know?… I could feel his… oh god! I-I could feel his penis pressing into my hip…. no! No, I did not! Kristen! I’ve never even seen one… y’know… How did it feel?” Your eyelids flutter and your hand drops beneath the hem of your skirt, and it’s a moment before you answer your friend. “Oh. My. God. It just felt… it felt amazing. I know we were at school, but god I wanted to touch it so badly…” You take a swig of beer, and my mind is made up. This – whatever this is – has to stop. And someone has to teach my little girl a lesson. I tighten my fingers on the handle of your door, swinging it open and striding into the room. “Faye! What the hell do you think you’re doing?” The phone dropped from your shoulder, bouncing to the floor and disconnecting Kristen. You look at me, your eyes wide, one hand still clutching the half-empty beer, the other buried between your thighs. “D-daddy?” I cross the room in two strides, grabbing the beer from your hand. “What is this?” I ask, my face set in a look of stern reproach. You only look up at me, your eyes wide, completely frozen, one hand still open as if grasping the bottle, the other underneath the hem of your short plaid skirt. “Faye, I’m only going to ask you one more time… what is this?” Your eyes dart between my gaze and the half-finished beer in my hand. “It’s… it’s a beer, Daddy,” you stammer, seeming to regain your composure a little at a time. I see your arm attached to the hand between your legs twitch as you realize what you look like. I don’t want to give you the chance. “Don’t! Move!” I yell and your whole body jumps, frozen again as you stare up into my eyes. “Now… your answer wasn’t quite right, travesti istanbul young lady. Who’s beer is this?” Your lips tremble just a little before you say in a barely audible voice, “Y-yours. daddy.” I turn the bottle around in my hand. “That’s not quite right either, is it? Since you’ve already finished half of it off in five minutes,” I sigh, holding it out to you. “I guess it’s mostly yours now.” Your mouth drops open, yours eyes at first wide and unbelieving, then narrowing and suspicious. Slowly you take the bottle from my hand. I put my hands on your shoulders. “I don’t even know if I can trust you anymore, Faye… I mean, it sounds like you’re a little slut.” You gasp as I say that. “B-but I-I’m not! I’m not! I’ve never done anything like that before, Daddy! How can I be a slut if I’ve never… never done it before?” I narrow my eyes. “How am I supposed to believe you, Faye?” I ask, kneeling in front of you, my hands on your thighs, just below the hem of your skirt. “The next thing you’re going to tell me is that you’re still a virgin,” I say, gently squeezing your thighs. You drop your head, your dark hair falling in front of your face. “I… I am, though,” you whisper, your chest rising and falling dramatically as your breathing gets heavier, your cheeks blushing furiously. I push my hands further up your thighs, my fingertips slipping beneath the pleated fabric of your skirt. Your eyes focus on my hands, but you don’t pull away. I look into your eyes. “Faye, look at me.” As you look up, I circle my hands inward, my fingertips brushing against your soft cotton panties. You gasp, your whole body jerking, but your hands stay by your sides, grasping at the sheets. “Am I to believe that you really are a virgin, that you’ve never had sex before? Not even with this asshole Adam?” You blush at the mention of the boy’s name, but you nod slowly, biting your lip. “I promise, Daddy,” you whisper in a little-girl voice. I keep your gaze, my fingers slowly rubbing at the damp fabric of your panties. I believed every word you were saying, but at the same time I couldn’t believe how wet you were getting at such little attention from my fingers. You stare back at me, your eyes wide, your mouth agape. “I can prove it to you, Daddy… but if I were to end up with Adam, I would need a few pointers… could you, well, help me with that?” you ask, clearly nervous. I lightly stroke your fleshy little labia with the tips of my fingers through the fabric of your panties and you let out an involuntary whimper. I smile softly. “Whatever you want, baby.” “Daddy…
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