A Night Out With the Boys
A Father is probably the most important male figure to a girl, but the resulting "Daddy issues" can also really screw up a girl's life; I know this because I've tried unsuccessfully to deal with mine for years.
I love my Father, but somewhere along the way, our connection took a strange, maybe even perverse detour that continues to affect my life and relationships to this day.
Warning: This story references father/daughter incest, promiscuity, and anal sex
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Young, rebellious and unhappy, I look back now and can remember everything leading up to that night. The sensations, the desires, emotions are as real and vibrant as if they had just happened.
At twenty-two years old, I felt as if I'd lived a lifetime. Nannies reared me for the most part while growing up; they never stayed too long, not after Daddy got a hold of them. I grew up a sheltered, introverted child, the only offspring of two self-absorbed people. My Daddy while an influential and important man in the community was a very difficult and demanding person to live with. Over the years I came to know my Daddy as a man more so than a father, I loved him and sought his love and his approval, even now.
My Mother had become a virtual doormat to Daddy's needs and desires, but Daddy always claimed she didn't understand him. Her deference to him sometimes angered me, and like the typical immature female, I could be nasty and vindictive. I enjoyed flaunting my special closeness with Daddy in front of her and once in a fit of anger I had yelled at her that, "Daddy loves me like he loves you!" Mother had looked at me with a strange, knowing look on her face. There was no way she could have known or suspected what had been happening . . . was there? I wished I could have pulled the words back.
Over my last year of high school, things were changing at home; Mother and Daddy were always arguing, Daddy was away a lot, Mother was spending a lot of time with her friends, and the house was filled with tension, unhappiness, and anger.
I don't really remember how it started, it just did. During that summer following my graduation from high school, Daddy began coming into my room late at night when Mother was out with her friends. In my naiveté and insecurity, I was flattered and happy that he was finally showing an interest in what I did, and more importantly, showing his love for me.
"You're eighteen now, a woman. One of these days, you're going to meet a man who loves you, and you'll want to show him how much you love him. Won't you?" he asked as we sat sipping wine in the dimly lit living room.
"Yes," I reply, though at the time I didn't actually understand what he was getting at despite the huskiness of his voice and the growing bulge in his pants.
*****
That summer, Daddy became my lover. He patiently showed me, taught me how to please a man. My education slowly progressed from him touching me and making me orgasm, to showing me how to give him oral sex the way he liked it, and eventually him having sex with me. Yes, I was naïve, but never repulsed or remorseful, just very proud that Daddy wanted to love me.
By the end of the summer, Mother and Daddy had agreed to divorce. Granted I knew things weren't good between them, but I never thought they would divorce. The night before he left, we had gone to the Harvest Valley Marriott where Daddy tried to console me, and where we made love until the early hours of the morning. That day when Daddy packed his bags, loaded up his car and drove away, I was left traumatized and angry. I'll never forget standing in the driveway of our house shouting, "I hate you, I hate you."
I didn't see Daddy very often after he left. Despite my conflicted feelings about him, whenever I did see him, I would feel a sudden rush of emotions and physical needs. We would have sex, hard, wet, nasty sex until we were exhausted and satisfied and then we would do it again. I knew and understood what we were doing was incestuous, but I was long pass caring or being limited by social norms, and so was Daddy.
To put it bluntly, I liked to fuck, and for some sick reasons, I liked fucking my father.
*****
Though I didn't see or understand it when I was in the midst of the relationship, it eventually became clear to me through counseling that my need for his approval, my need to please him, my sexual relations with him had defined my behavior (drugs, alcohol, sex) and foreshadowed my future interaction with men . . . and there were many men after that summer.
My life grew increasingly out of control, and after a while, everything seemed to culminate in a dizzying circus of sexual promiscuity. Daddy, of course, was my first and then I went away to college where I became involved in a turbulent romance with Peter, a controlling much older boyfriend who made my freshman year at college a nightmare. Because of my "issues," most of my energy and efforts were focused on filling an emotional and sexual void centered on Daddy. The drugs, alcohol, and inappropriate sexual behavior all contributed to my poor grades and infrequent attendance in class that precipitated my being put on academic suspension in my sophomore year.
Mother was concerned, and I know she was trying everything she could to help me, but nothing seemed to help. Desperate, she called Daddy, and he agreed to meet and talk with me about what was going on and maybe figure out what he could do to help me get myself straightened out. Daddy arrived Friday afternoon. For the next two days, we were secreted away in a hotel room where he could fuck me without interruption. The night before he was scheduled to leave, Daddy pulled his cock out of me after cumming for the umpteenth time that weekend and stretched out next to me. With my head resting on his chest, he brushed my damp hair from my face and told me that he was going to send me to rehab for a few months. I began to protest and cry, but he was adamant.
"I'm tired of your Mother and her whining and bitching about you, and I'm tired of your antics. Tomorrow when I leave, you're coming with me, and I'm taking you to the rehab facility," he said firmly, subject closed. What could I do? I had no money, no job . . . I was still totally dependent on my parents for support.
That morning it was still dark outside when I was awakened by the warm, moist pressure of Daddy's mouth licking, sucking, between my legs. Did he think this would make me forgive him for putting me into rehab? Well, he was wrong . . . he was so fucking wrong if he thought . . . eating . . . my . . . pussy . . . would, would change how I felt.
"Ughhhh . . . Oh my God, Daddy," I moaned as an intense, wet, orgasm gripped me. Still writhing under him, Daddy sat up, changed position and slipped his hard, wooden cock into me, his little girl and came almost immediately.
*****
I was in a residential rehab for three months and then outpatient for another three. It seemed like it was worked. I eased back into school which pleased Mother and was doing surprisingly well considering what I had been through until Professor Horowitz my journalism professor began showing his interest in me. Professor Horowitz was in his early fifties and quite distinguished looking, what with his salt and pepper colored hair, neatly trimmed beard and piercing grey eyes. Some men have an innate ability to spot a woman's character weaknesses, and the Professor jdentified mine during our first student/advisor meeting. Professor Horowitz loved having sex in empty lecture rooms. There was always the threat of being discovered, which I guess excited him, and one day that's exactly what happened. Mrs. Familiari, one of the Professor's colleagues, walked in and discovered me pressed against a wall. Panties down, skirt pulled up, and Professor Horowitz's long, thick cock pushed up into me. She was a shocked witness to Professor Horowitz calling me a slut and a whore as he enthusiastically fuck me from behind. The incident did not end well, the Professor was suspended for a few days, and I was asked to leave.
After Professor Horowitz, I met and had sex with Officer Phillip Thomas during a traffic stop one night. He pulled me over, and as he approached my car, I could see he was tall, attractive and commanding in his uniform. I begged him not to give me a ticket (I already had two moving violations). He looked at me, thought for a moment and then said, "I think we can work something out." The next thing I knew, I was on the back seat of his cruiser with my legs up in the air, and Officer Phil between my thighs pounding into me until he came in a grunting, groaning orgasm. When he finished, he stuffed his still semi-hard dick back into his trousers, straightened his clothes and as he turned to walk back to his cruiser said, "drive safe Miss."
I didn't think any more about Officer Phil until one evening there was a knock on the door. Before opening the door, I peeked out the window and could see a police car parked in front of my building. I opened the door, and to my surprise, there was Officer Phil. He had apparently found my address by tracing my license number and had stopped by for a quicky.
We got together a couple of times after that, not dating or anything like that, purely for sex and fun (?). We did it two or three times here at my apartment during his shift, you know on duty, once at a seedy motel that the hookers frequented (that was kind of scary), and several times at a rest stop in his patrol area. I would drive out and wait for him to pull into the rest stop. When he arrived usually around midnight, he would park in the shadows, and I would get into his cruiser. He'd be sitting there already stroking himself when I got in, ready for me to take him in my mouth and suck him off.
I would suck him until he came, draining him, being sure to swallow every drop.
"Fuck, you give the best head I've ever had . . . guess you've had a lot of practice, huh? My girlfriend should take lessons from you," he said admiringly.
Our meetings went on like that for several weeks until his new rotation went into effect, which changed his patrol area. Sadly, I didn't see Phillip anymore after that.
*****
