Porn Stars Daughter Ch 07 1

Chapter 7 - Visitor

As I descended the stairs, a strange mixture of emotions ebbed and flowed through me. Physically, I was unsteady, wobbly on legs that felt as if they had run a thousand miles. Sexually, I was sated, but the pump was still primed and that gave me a charged feeling nonetheless. My release had been complete, and I felt drained in a good, comfortable way.

Even so, I was still an emotional wreck. I was still embarrassed about what happened in the car. I had a feeling that he knew that I was masturbating in the shower, too, even if he probably wouldn't have thought in his wildest dreams how I was doing it, or why. I felt like I needed to go and apologize - but for what? I mean, not only did I not have a clue what to say, but what would I be apologizing

for

?

Gee dad, so sorry that I got my mouth stuck on your gigantic cock dildo and couldn't answer right away.

As I reached the bottom of the stairs, I heard his voice. He was on the phone, but he didn't seem happy. My self-absorption gave way to the drama unfolding.

"What are you saying, exactly?" I heard him say, tension rising in his voice.

I kept myself very quiet, walking towards the room but trying to stay out of sight. I was barefoot, which helped keep me silent.

"Hold on, hold on," he said, a note of worry creeping in. "What do you mean, you can't find it?"

I peeked around the corner. He was pacing in the kitchen, and he ran his hand through his dark blond hair. He gritted his teeth, and spoke into the phone so quietly, so intensely, that I couldn't hear exactly what he was saying.

"You better... don't want to hear it... if she finds it..."

My heart jumped into my throat. What was he talking about? Was that my Mom? Was this about the video?

"Look, I can't talk about this right now," he said, suddenly loud and clear. "Shannon's here today, and I've got to go." A pause. "Yes, Shannon." Another pause. "I don't want to hear it. I've. Got. To. Go."

Despite being on edge because of his mood, I took a relieved breath. Okay, so it wasn't my mom. She knew I was here already, obviously. So who was it? What got him so riled up? Was it a "work" thing?

He looked at his phone, and sighed. "Look, Tracy is calling. I've got to go. Just

find

it."

He tapped a button on his phone, and answered. "Hey babe," he said.

Babe?

"

Yeah," he continued. "It's all good. I think she's excited to meet you too. How long before you get here?"

Wait,

what

? Who's this Tracy person, and she's on her way? I just got here!

I stepped out from behind the wall into view. He noticed me, his facing breaking out in a grin and did a slight head nod, as if to say

hello

, before refocusing on his conversation. "Great. See you soon. Drive safe."

He hung up, and I went to the fridge to find something to drink. "Who's Tracy?" I asked, with more of an edge to my voice than intended.

He looked at me funny. "I told you. She's someone I've been dating," he said.

I shook my head. "You didn't tell me you were dating anyone," I challenged. I felt a bit of annoyance and anger creeping in.

Where was

this

coming from?

"Shannon," he said, confused. "We

just

talked about this in the car on the way up. I told you that I was seeing a woman named Tracy and that I wanted you to meet her."

I opened my mouth to protest, and then closed it again. The car ride was a blur. I had been in my own world, not really listening to what he had been saying. I remembered saying, "Yeah," and "Uh huh," and "Sure," from time to time, but it's not like he

ever

said anything important, right?

His face became unreadable. "Maybe you were too distracted," he said, his eyes a bit colder.

Ouch

. I swallowed. So he

had

noticed. It didn't seem like a good idea to press my disadvantage at the time. Plus, whatever had happened on that previous call had obviously irritated him, and while he never got overtly angry, he did get moody.

I got some juice from the fridge. "So," I began, trying to move on, forcing my voice to become more upbeat, "when does Tracy get here?"

"About a half hour," he said. "Christ, this place is a wreck."

He began clearing items off the counters and table. My father wasn't a rich man, and couldn't afford help to keep his bachelor pad cleaned by a maid or service. I started to help him clear up. At least it wasn't full of half-empty pizza boxes and empty beer cans. Or bottles. Or whatever.

As we straightened up he told me a bit about Tracy, and I tried my best to fill in the gaps of what he was telling me and what he

thought

I knew from the conversation in the car. I was too ashamed to admit that I hadn't been listening to a single word, so I tried to pay as much attention as possible now. I felt like I was cramming for an exam in the class period before the one with the test.

I learned that Tracy was an old friend that he had come back into contact through work. She was an inspector who happened to be assigned to one of my father's construction jobs, and when they recognized each other they decided to grab a drink and catch up. Soon the after-work drinks were a daily occurrence, and before long they were dating.

"That's one of the reasons why I suggested you come up here this weekend," my father said. "I mean, you don't

have

to come up any more now that you're eighteen, but this seemed like a good excuse to have you here again."

I know he didn't mean to do it, but I suddenly felt extremely sad, and not just a little bit guilty.

My father and I had never really clicked. As I was growing up he wasn't around much, as his construction jobs tended to take him from place to place for months at a time. I didn't really know what he did that made him so unavailable, but to be absolutely truthful, I hadn't really cared. My father was more of a nomad than I could ever be, and over the years I found it difficult to find common ground with him.

It wasn't as if he was an absentee father, either. He was around about as much as any divorced dad would be, I guess, even though my parents had never been married. I didn't really understand the relationship all that well, but it seemed to work for all of us.

I never really thought much about it, if I was completely honest with myself. After all, it wasn't as if I had gone out of my way to build anything stronger. Now, though, I was wondering if perhaps I had played a larger role in the distance between us than I originally thought.

It suddenly dawned on me that I had thought about him more in the past week,

as a father

, than I probably did in the past year.

"So," he continued, wiping down the countertops, "I don't know when you'll come up here again, so I figured it was a really good time to introduce you two."

Despite everything, I felt angry at the intrusion of a stranger, and I felt annoyed with myself for not paying attention in the car. Without consciously realizing it, I had set myself up for some alone-time with my father, and had come to anticipate...

what

? What did I think was going to happen? I was going to get my

own father

to seduce his young, virgin 18-year-old daughter?

You trite, cliché little bitch

, I thought.

I looked at my father with a different lens. What

did

I want? He was a handsome man -

extremely

handsome, from an objective point of view - but did I want to

fuck

him? I mean, really?

That little voice that had been pushed out of the room while I was sucking on that cock in the shower suddenly tapped me on the shoulder again. "I'm back!" it seemed to say.

Why are you even asking yourself this question?

Because I

have

to know.

And what will you

do

with the answer to that question, if the answer is 'yes'?

I don't know.

My inner debate was interrupted by the doorbell. He suddenly perked up, his eyes alight with excitement. He was

so

cute. My affection for him was marred by a sudden, unfamiliar, and yet darker sensation. Was this jealousy?

"She's here!" he said, suddenly animated. "Okay, are you okay?"

I nodded.

"Okay," he said, rubbing his hands on his jeans. I had

never

seen him like this before. He obviously liked this Tracy person. "Okay. Okay? Okay."

"Dad," I said. He looked at me, questioningly. "The door?"

I indicated the direction of the door, and he started in surprise. It was as if he had just seen one for the first time in his life. "Oh, right!" he said. "Of course!"

It was amusing, I have to say. He was over six feet tall, but like a little boy trying to calm himself and look respectable. He finally managed to get the door and get himself sorted. He opened the door, and said as nonchalantly as possible, "Come in, come in!"

Tracy walked into the room, and my mouth dropped open. I mean,

literally

dropped open.

It was Redd.

Not a lookalike, but actually, in honest-to-god living reality,

Redd

. From-the-video Redd. Standing in the doorway. Right in front of me.

Redd, I mean Tracy, was drop dead gorgeous. She had maintained that 'girl-next-door' look, and the twenty years since the video had been remarkably kind to her. If anything, she had an air of more sophistication.

Believe it or not, my first thought was not about how surreal the situation was, or how mind-bogglingly unprepared I was to cope with this, but rather of Simone. I was

convinced

Simone has somehow, in some way, managed to fuck with me again.

She will own you

.

Once again, I was allowing Simone to live in my head. I was convinced that this was her doing. I couldn't possibly imagine how she did it, or how it's possible to fuck with someone so completely, but she

must

have done it. It could

not

be a coincidence!

Tracy approached me, smiled warmly, and opened her arms for a warm embrace. "Shannon!" she said, her enthusiasm genuine and approachable. "It's so nice to finally meet you!"

As I recovered from the shock of seeing her in reality, not to mention having my space invaded, I returned her hug. I kind of fell into it, much to my surprise. There was something about her, something about her body that felt... right. She was just a little taller than I was, and I felt muscles under her soft skin as her bare arms wrapped around me. Her breasts came just above mine (or rather, where mine should have been), and she smelled of faint, spicy perfume.

I couldn't help it. My mind flashed back to the video and her scene. I remember how I had liked her immediately, especially after the bitch of a brunette who treated him like a chore.

Somehow she managed to vibrate the room with genuine friendliness. She was elegant, poised, and charming in an approachable way. I couldn't help it - I immediately liked her.

Plus I had dreamt about having sex with her.

Oh god oh god...

"Shannon, are you okay?" my father asked.

I could only imagine the frozen face that I had plastered in place. I tried to relax enough to look like a normal human being. "Oh, yes," I said. I looked at Tracy and told her the truth. "You're stunningly gorgeous."

It was a flat statement, not really meant as a compliment. I was rather commenting on a fact. It was like saying,

Oh, you painted your house

.

Nevertheless, Tracy blushed. "Thank you," she said, looking from me to my dad and back again. "That's really nice of you to say."

"Come, come!" My father ushered us back into the kitchen, beaming. "We're just about to have some lunch. Are you hungry?"

Together, we started preparing food and got engaged in all kinds of conversations. I thought these kinds of things were supposed to be awkward, but it simply didn't happen that way. In fact, I found myself growing more comfortable with her, and faster, than with anyone I think I'd ever met. I could see within moments just why my father was so smitten with her. The lunch started to turn into an hour, then two, and then time didn't seem to matter.

It was hard, though,

not

to remember the video of her naked, riding my father like a possessed banshee cowgirl. Unbidden, I felt a moistness between my legs, a growing hunger in places that shouldn't have been for a casual conversation. Without intending to, I flashed back to my dream, where she had caressed my chest, rubbing my nipples.

Oh god, my nipples!

Reflexively, I looked down and saw in horror that my little peaks on my chest were as obvious as ever. I had been sitting at the table for... how long? 2 hours?

3

hours? With my tits just making themselves known to the whole world?

Hello! Don't mind Shannon, she's clueless. So, how's the weather where

you

live?

"Let's move to the couch," I suggested, and then got up from the table before anyone could say anything.

I grabbed the recliner chair and took one of the throw pillows, hugging it tightly to my chest. I wanted to bury my head into the pillow in shame, but I knew that would just bring more attention to them.

There was more small talk, and then my shame overwhelmed me and I couldn't stay exposed like that any longer.

"Excuse me for a second," I said, suddenly, making a decision and breaking the conversation. "I'll be right back."

I got up and crossed my arms and ran across the room to the stairs. I didn't even stop to hear a response. As I got to the stairs, I went into the bathroom again, and stood in front of the mirror looking at my chest.

What I saw horrified me. Two protruding peaks, pointing straight out from the small lumps of my chest, were only slightly less distracting than a car crash. Instinctively, I put my hands against my chest, and in desperation, pressed against them.

As a method of hiding them from sight, it worked wonders. As a means of getting them to go down, it was useless. They seemed to have a life of their own, and giving them attention was the absolutely worst thing to do. They soaked up the attention and responded as I should have expected. My pussy did too.

Even so, I

had

to get them to go down, or at least just not be so prominent. I couldn't stay here in the bathroom all day. Or could I? I seriously contemplated how I could get away with that.

A soft knock on the door made me jump. "Shannon?" It was Redd. "Can I come in?"

My eyes grew wide in terror. "Um," I said, frantically. "I'll just be a minute!"

"Shannon," she said through the door. "I think I might be able to help."

I didn't know what to do. Despite my comfort around her downstairs, I had just

met

her. She... she...

Before I knew it, I was reaching for the doorknob and slowly opened the door, one hand still draped across my chest. She stood there, looking concerned, but smiling anyway.

"Oh, sweetie," she said. "Come here."

She entered the bathroom, and took me in her arms in another embrace. She seemed to like hugging. A lot.

I turned my head as she held me, my chin resting on the shelf of her breasts. Once again the smell of her perfume trickled in through my nose. I realized that I was facing the mirror, and focused my vision on us.

The difference between us was striking. Redd - I mean

Tracy,

goddamn it! - was drop-dead gorgeous. She had a comfortable, understated sexiness that just seemed natural. By comparison, I looked like a girl trying too hard, wearing too-tight jeans, who was a sexual deviant who hated her body.

Well, maybe I didn't actually

look

like that in the mirror, but I certainly felt that way. How could I not when I was standing, quite literally, next to perfection?

Her fuller breasts pressed against my chest in the embrace, and seemed to rest on the top of my nipple buds. When she breathed, or when I breathed, my sensitive flesh moved slightly back and forth. I could feel

everything

, and it seemed like they simply grew more erect.

She pulled away, and I realized that I was the one holding on to

her

, not the other way around. I stepped back, a little too quickly. She smiled at me in a semi-conspiratorial way.

"Come on, let me show you a couple of tricks that might help," she said. "Take off your shirt."

"Wait, what?" I asked, incredulous.

She paused, and looked at me as if I had been trying to hide a nuclear explosion from the world. "Sweetie," she said calmly. "We both know why you've locked yourself away. Come on, I can help you."

I hesitated, and she reached for my waist. Before I knew what was happening, she grabbed my hips, turned me towards the mirror, and stepped behind me. I felt her fingers brush against my flesh and she curled her fingers under the hem of my shirt, and pulled it up and over my head in one

whoosh

.

My face flushed in embarrassment. My nipples were poking

through

the lace bra. It was as if they had found a way to find the best position between the lacy parts in order to get constant stimulation. Now they were open for all (well, me and Tracy, at least) to see.

"Oh my," Tracy said, admiringly. "Have you hit the jackpot."

I was totally confused. "What? What do you mean?"

"A lot of guys will like your tiny, perky nipples. They

love

to suck on titties like yours," she said. She leaned in quickly and whispered in my ears, "Some girls, too!"

I felt a strange, dizzying sense of deja-vu at her words. I felt my head beginning to spin, but before I could wrap my mind around my confusion, she straightened back up and fiddled with my bra clasp. In one quick motion my bra fell away from my body but got hung up on my nipples. The bra dangled in front of my chest as if they were on hooks. I was mortified.

Reflexively, I raised my hands to my chest, but she had already grabbed the loose straps of the bra and pulled it away. Suddenly I didn't really know what to do with my hands.

"The first trick you can do," she said, getting back to business, "is try to warm them up. Take your hands and rub them together to create some friction, like this."

She reached around my shoulders with her arms and placed her hands together in front of me. I had a surreal view looking at our reflection in the mirror, and instinctively I lowered my arms to give her space. She quickly rubbed her hands together.

I knew what was happening, and I knew what was going to happen. My nipples, for certain,

wanted

it to happen.

Then it did happen. She flattened her warm, well-frictioned hands to my chest, my nipples centered directly in the middle of her palms.

Fire and electricity covered my chest. A sharp, exciting flash of heat spread out from her hands and seemed to engulf my torso. My nipples vibrated in ecstasy, and my pussy screamed for relief. It seemed to plead with me,

My turn! Me, next!

And then the sharpness of the heat was gone. It lasted a mere moment, probably not even a second, a gunshot of a shockwave and then I felt a general, comforting soothing feeling on my breasts. I had the vague sensation of her breasts pushing into my bare back, keeping me in place.

She began making slight circular motions with her palms. "When your hands are warm enough," she said, "just make small circles with them around your nipples, and they should go down."

I realized that I had been holding my breath, and when I released it, a breathy moan came out as well.

She paused, and I looked at her face in the mirror. She cocked her head. "Do you have really sensitive nipples?" she asked, a smile struggling to form across her lips.

I nodded. I found that speaking was too difficult.

"Well, then," she said, pulling her hands from my chest. "Perhaps this technique won't work quite so well for you."

As she took her hands away, my chest and nipples felt a genuine sense of abandonment. I wanted her to keep doing what she was doing for... for... oh god, I don't know if I ever wanted that to stop. My world was spinning in desire, but she was all business. My confusion threatened to start a small panic in me. Was I reading into something more than just friendly advice?