I looked up the side of the house toward my bedroom window. It was closed and the drapes were shut. I left both the window and drapes open when I broke out at nine o'clock to escape being grounded and meet my boyfriend Pete so we could try out his new motorcycle. We spent the whole night with friends racing on the flats outside of town; opening up the engine to see what she could do. Five minutes ago, I made Pete let me off at the corner down the street so the bike's muffler wouldn't wake my dad. So much for that idea, I thought, kicking over a landscaping stone at the edge of the flower bed.
Shoot.
The only thing to do was brace myself and go in the front door. Dad would be waiting to yell at me. I suppose he had reason. Since Pete and I started dating a month ago, I'd broken curfew three weekends in a row. After last weekend, Dad grounded me for two weeks. I came straight home after school each night this week, cooked supper and cleaned the kitchen but that little effort was going to pale into insignificance given the fact I not only busted out tonight but was two hours past my usual midnight deadline to be home.
The way I saw it, I had two options: go in and face the music or duck out and hide at my best friend Candice's house until after daylight. Maybe Dad would be so worried by the time I got home, he'd ease off on the punishment? Fat chance, I figured as I rounded the corner of the house and headed for the front step. I didn't have any choice but face the firing squad. The next question was how to act before the executioner? Should I be apologetic and throw myself on the mercy of the court or be belligerent, figuring on pissing Dad off so much he'd give up trying to talk to me and leave me alone?
Reaching out, I rattled the front door knob. It figured he'd keep it locked for dramatic effect. Digging out my house key, I opened the door then fiddled with the sticky lock that wouldn't let go of the key. As I pressed the door closed and latched the lock, I heard Dad's opening volley.
"I thought you were grounded. Where have you been?" his voice was tight and controlled. I turned to see my dad, all six feet of him, standing at the bottom of the stairs; his navy blue bathrobe knotted around his trim waist, his arms crossed in front of his chest. His full head of silvering hair was tousled, probably from repeated attempts to pull it out by the roots while waiting for me to get home.
"Out," I grunted as I shrugged out of my denim jacket and tossed it on the Shaker bench beside the door. Belligerent got the vote.
"Out where?" Dad's dark brown eyes were almost black with anger.
"Out there?" I said sarcastically, hooking my thumb over my shoulder toward the door as if he hadn't seen me walk in.
I hated to admit it but even pissed off, Dad was a really great looking older guy. I never saw it until my girlfriends pointed it out one night at a slumber party. We were goofing around, talking about guys we'd like to fuck when Candice said she wanted to do my dad and all the girls squealed in agreement. I couldn't believe it! I mean, yeah, he's a guy but he's just my dad for cripes sakes. It wasn't until the next day when he was mowing the lawn and stripped off his shirt that I realized what the other girls were seeing. In a pair of khaki shorts and hikers, Dad chased the mower around the yard, then weeded the flower beds, then cleaned around the pool. All the time, hard muscles along his back and ribs moved and rippled under his smooth, sun-bronzed skin. When he climbed out of the pool after diving in to cool off, the water made his shorts stick to the outline of his firmly muscled ass, causing me to leap out of my lawn chair and run to my room to masturbate while fantasizing about Dad jackhammering my cunt.
"You were with that boy again, weren't you?" Dad accused, tucking the lapels of his robe over each other and adjusting the knot in the belt as if he was contemplating wrapping it around my throat.
"Yeah, I was with Pete, so what?" I mimicked his motions, tugging on the knot in my white t-shirt that shorted it to midriff length. My actions pulled the shirt tight against the outline of my braless tits and their pert, erect nipples poked through.
Dad's eyes flicked over my breasts, lingering as he uncrossed his arms again and took a step toward me, "You're fucking him, aren't you?"
"Daddy!" I cried, shocked he would ask. Ever since I started wanting to fuck my father, I ended up screwing everyone, including my best friend Candice, as a substitute. I couldn't exactly tell that to Dad, though. "That's none of your business."
"You're living under my roof; it is my business. We never had any trouble until you got involved with that punk."
"Pete is not a punk!" I denied. Of course, Pete was a punk. Why bother with him if he wasn't?
"I forbid you to see him again!" Dad yelled, grabbing me by the arms. "Do you understand? And you're grounded for the next two months for this little stunt tonight." I had never seen Dad this angry before. His brown eyes were blood shot and his face was all red. Spit gathered in the corners of his mouth as he yelled into my face, shaking me by the arms until my tits bounced.
Rule one of belligerent teens, Show No Fear. "I'm eighteen, Dad. What makes you think you can tell me who I can and can't see?" I said in a snotty tone. "If you think I'm going to stay in this house every night for the next two months, boy, have you got another think coming!"
Dad squeezed my arms hard and hissed out, "You little brat," then he dragged me toward the living room.
"What are you doing?" I shrieking in outrage, fighting against the grip he held on my arm. He wasn't hurting me. Dad's hands were so large, his fingers closed completely around my upper arm and held on firmly as he forced me to follow him into the living room.
"What I should have done three weeks ago!" he shouted. "What I should have done three years ago!" Stopping in front of a wide, upholstered chair, he reached for the button on the waist of my cut off jean shorts.
Slapping at his hands, I squawked, "Daddy! What are you doing?" Despite my struggles, Dad was angrier, faster and stronger.
"Giving you a spanking! I should have been doing this all along! Every time you talked back with that smart mouth of yours, I should have pulled down your pants and blistered your ass!" he yelled, ripping the zipper open and pulling my shorts down.
Surprise, Daddy. No undies.
Dad stopped and stared for a moment at the thatch of dark blonde curls covering my mound. Hesitatingly, he brushed his fingers over the patch then sat in the chair and roughly pulled me over his lap. As I landed face down, his robe slid open and my fuzzy pussy landed against his bare thigh. I felt his hand briefly cup one of my ass cheeks and rub lightly, as if feeling the soft texture before I felt his palm come down on my bare skin with a smack.
