Call Girl

SUMMARY: This is a complete work of fiction. This story is told from the male POV (aka "Dad"). He contacts an escort company while he's out of town, but when the girl shows up at his hotel room, it turns out to be his daughter. See what happens from there.

All characters in this story are 18 or older.

DISCLAIMER: This story is a work of fiction. Any character resemblances to real life personae are strictly coincidental. Copying, re-posting, storing (whether digitally or in print form) or redistribution of this material is prohibited.

STORY:

Feeling more nervous than I could ever remember, I needlessly flicked my cigarette toward the ashtray resting on the window ledge. I was sitting on the edge of my bed which was within arm's reach of the window of my hotel room. This hotel was one of the oldest buildings in Manhattan, and it was quite possibly the last place on earth where you could still smoke indoors. My leg started jittering as the nervousness hit a crescendo yet again. My stomach felt like it was doing summersaults. My nerves were completely shot, and smoking was not helping one iota.

Just as I lifted my arm to glance at my watch one more time, I heard a soft tapping at the hotel room door. My heart leapt in my chest and I suddenly felt like I couldn't breathe. Quickly butting the cigarette in the ashtray and waving the smoke out the window, I stood on wobbly legs, at which point the room promptly started spinning. Closing my eyes, I drew in several deep breaths. That worked. My heart rate slowed a little. Shaking my body to try to settle my nerves, I made my way across the hotel room toward the door. I had never done anything like this in my life.

With a final inhale, I grabbed the handle and swung it down, pulling the door inward. Standing just outside my room was the most gorgeous young woman I had ever seen in my life. She had long, silky black hair that reached halfway down her back. Her eyelashes were long. I assumed they were fake, but she had done such a good job applying them, I truly couldn't tell. They just seemed to make her eyes pop. Speaking of her eyes, they were a bright, topaz blue. She had ringed them with a dark eyeliner which she had accentuated outward at the corners, creating a look like she had little dark wings around them. Her face was round. I realized she was probably younger than I guessed. The makeup added a few years. I would probably peg her at about twenty. Maybe nineteen. Easily twenty years younger than me. Her lips were curvy and she didn't seem to be wearing any lipstick. It was almost strange to see such beautiful application of makeup everywhere except her lips. Yet, at the same time, the lack of it there almost made them that much more appealing. I suddenly found myself wanting to taste them. To taste the lips of this girl who was a complete stranger to me--

"Daddy?" the girl's voice pierced my trance. The one word she uttered, as a question, hit me hard.

Stumbling back from the door into the room, my eyes opened wide in shock. My mouth opened and closed, but no words came out. I stared at the girl who was standing in the threshold of my hotel room. The beautiful girl who I had invited over to... Oh jesus.

Finally getting some control of my face again, I whispered, "Bridget?"

My daughter strode into the hotel room. I realized she was wearing black heels that added at least three inches to her height. Not that I would have recognized her even if she was wearing sneakers. She was completely transformed from the girl who I knew. The girl who I had raised. My daughter--Bridget--had blonde hair. Glancing at this girl's hair once more, I decided it must be some sort of wig or something. But I'd be damned if I could tell it wasn't real. It looked perfect. And seeing it on my daughter's head was another shock. Bridget looked good with black hair. Very good. Her skin was extremely pale and always had been. She had always burned easily in the summer. But somehow the black hair brought out her porcelain beauty even more. She was absolutely stunning.

Now I just had to figure out why the fuck she had shown up to my hotel room after I had contacted an escort service. What was happening?

"Bridget?" I said her name again, just as my legs bumped into my bed and I felt myself falling backwards onto it. My entire world felt like it was spinning.

My daughter was still standing in the doorway, holding the door open with one foot. She seemed to be in just as much shock as I was. Yet she hadn't turned to go yet. She just stood there, staring at me. After what felt like an hour, she finally stepped all the way into the room and I watched as the door swung shut behind her, locking with a loud click.

Swallowing the enormous lump in my throat and staring up at my daughter, I stammered, "You-you're a-a hoo-hooker?"

Bridget narrowed her eyes and pursed her lips slightly, then said, "Call girl, actually."

"Is there a difference?" I heard myself ask.

She rolled her eyes and made a vexed sound and then said, "Uh, yeah. I'm professional."

I truly didn't know how to react to this. My own daughter was a... a whore? Fuck. But I wouldn't voice that thought out loud. Thank god I hadn't blurted it out when I asked if she was a hooker. That was at least a step up from "whore". But a million questions started tumbling through my mind just then. I threw out the first one I could think of.

"How long?" I asked.

She shrugged, looking away from me before answering, "Two years."

My brain did the math in half a second. She started hooking when she was eighteen? Christ! I opened my mouth to ask something else, but the only thing that came out was, "Jesus. I... I had no idea, Bridget."

"Of course you didn't," she answered.

While my mind reeled, I looked at my daughter again and realized I hadn't even paid attention to what she was wearing. She had on a black, tight-fitting dress that flowed down her perfect body, stopping at the midpoint of her butt. My eyebrows rose instinctively as I stared and realized that I could see the round, lower swells of both butt cheeks. Bridget's skin was creamy, even there. Maybe even creamier than the rest of her body. As I stared, I had to catch myself from whistling. What the hell? But lord her ass was... perfect. Slowly raising my eyes, I took in how the dress fit her as a whole. It covered just enough to let imagination do its thing. It was snug across her bosom, with a plunging neckline that exposed a fair amount of cleavage. Her breasts looked larger than I remembered, but that was probably from the way the dress was pushing up on them. I was pretty sure my daughter was a B cup, or possibly a C.

My daughter finally sat down on the edge of the bed as I stared at her. I found myself admiring her in a way I never had before. She had truly grown into a stunning young woman. Her hips were just wide enough to accent her slender midsection. I realized that even if her breasts were on the small side, with her slender body, they were the exact perfect size. My daughter was five foot five. Although with those heels she looked to be closer to 5'8". I noticed she had done her nails. They were a dark purple.

Bridget glanced at the ashtray on the window and raised an eyebrow, then she asked softly, "So... you smoke?"

My cheeks grew hot as I blushed. It was something that nobody in the family knew about me. I only did it when I was out of town, like I was now. But I nodded at her. How could I deny it? There was literally a smoking gun five feet away from me, sitting on the windowsill.

My daughter shrugged and said, "Doesn't bother me."

We sat in silence for what felt like an eternity, but in reality, was less than a minute. A thousand questions ran through my mind. How had Bridget gotten into this life? Why was she doing it? Did she like it? Shifting my eyes toward her, I caught her staring... at my crotch? A hint of a smile rested on her lips. Her eyes looked right at me and she frowned slightly. I wondered what she saw in my face that made her frown. A question popped into my head and started spilling from my mouth before I could think.

"How many--," I managed to reign myself in. Turning away from her, I muttered, "Never mind. I don't think I want to know."

The fact that my daughter wasn't a virgin was no surprise to me. I knew for a fact that she had had sex in my very house on the night of her eighteenth birthday. Memories of that night started to fog my thoughts. The sounds of fucking. My young daughter's moans drifting underneath her bedroom door as I strode past, on my way to bed. How the noises had halted me in my tracks. She had no idea that I had overheard her that night. Or the fact that I had stood there, listening, until the unmistakable sounds of climax reached my ears. Then I had fled to my own room, high tailing it to our master bathroom to hide my erection from my wife who was already in bed. I shuddered at the memory as I sat before my daughter now, the subject of sex silently filling the room around us.

"It's ok, daddy," Bridget said softly. Something tickled my knee and when I looked, she had her hand resting there. Slowly lifting my eyes to stare at her face, she was smiling at me. My god she looked beautiful with that black hair. She looked beautiful with her natural blonde hair, too. But there was something exotically erotic about how she looked now. Her blue eyes sparkled in the dim light of my hotel room.

Christ, I needed a cigarette.

With a shuddering exhale, I scooted myself to the other side of the bed and reached toward the window to grab my cigarettes and the ashtray. Pulling myself toward the head of the bed, I propped myself up on the pile of pillows that hotels always seemed to provide and then proceeded to light a cigarette. Right in front of my daughter.

"You know," she said suddenly and my head whipped up, staring at her across the bed. She still sat at the foot. When she was satisfied that I had my attention on her, she continued, "Some girls strip to get through college."

Furrowing my brows, I frowned at my daughter. The way she was sitting on the bed, she had turned the top half of her body toward me while keeping her legs dangling over the side. That put a little extra strain against her bosom and I noticed with chagrin that both of her boobs were starting to ooze out of her dress at the V.

"I tried stripping, but I didn't like it," Bridget said, in the same tone of voice she might have said, "It should be good weather this weekend."

I realized I hadn't spoken in quite some time. But I was nervous. Lifting my lit cigarette to my lips, I took a long, hard drag. My daughter smirked at me while she watched. Then, without a word, she pulled her legs up onto the bed and started crawling toward me. I felt panicked. My eyes opened wider and wider as she drew near. What was she about to do? Then, to my utter shock, she reached out and took hold of my cigarette and brought it to her own lips, inhaling lightly. She let the smoke puff out immediately, which told me that she wasn't a real smoker. That thought had a weird sort of relief to it. I don't even know why, considering.

Finally able to get some saliva onto my tongue, I croaked out, "Is this even safe, though?"

Bridget shrugged but nodded at me. "Yeah, it's safe. Don't worry, daddy. The company I work for vets all their clients. They even do credit checks."

I knew she was telling the truth because I had just gone through the process with them myself the day before. Christ. Why hadn't they figured out that she was my daughter, so as not to pair her up with me? What a fucking mess.

My daughter had her legs together, out to the side and bent at the knees while she sat on her hip, leaning on one hand. She still had my cigarette in her other hand. I realized that she was only a little over a foot away from me. Swallowing hard, I had to force myself not to let my eyes drop down to her chest. God that dress was gorgeous on her! And the whole "everything black" look was riveting. Against her fair skin, she looked like a model.

We sat in silence. I had no idea how much time had gone by. She handed my cigarette back to me but I just put it out instead of hitting it again. I was too nervous to smoke, which made me laugh in my own head. That was like the polar opposite of what people always said about smoking. It was supposed to calm your nerves. Wasn't it? Jesus. It felt really warm in the room suddenly.

Bridget broke the silence by announcing, very matter-of-factly, "So, usually I require my clients to use a condom."

"Huh?" I asked, my eyes betraying me briefly as I found myself staring at her cleavage. I had never realized how perfect her breasts were. Almost as perfect as the creamy ass cheeks I had seen a few minutes earlier.

"But I'll make an exception with you," she said softly. She was staring at me very intently.

Blinking, I tried to focus on what she was saying. "Uh, what?" I asked. My mind was reeling and I felt dizzy. What the hell was she even saying?

Bridget was staring at me intently, her lips pressed together with the corners curving upward. Oh. She was teasing me. Nervously, I reached toward the window ledge and grabbed my pack of smokes again. My hands were shaking as I pulled out a cigarette and when I tried to set the pack back on the sill, it fell to the floor. Fuck. Taking hold of my lighter, I lit the cigarette and took a long, deep inhale, filling my lungs with the thick smoke.

When I glanced at my daughter again, she was staring at me curiously. She shifted, pulling her legs in and then resting her butt on her heels. My eyes flickered toward them and I felt my heart skip a beat. The hem of her dress had cinched its way up a little further, revealing the bottom edge of a lacey pair of white panties. They looked notably... skimpy. From my angle, I could see one of her ass cheeks almost in its entirety. It seemed to be shining, it was so creamy and white.

When I brought my cigarette to my lips once more and started to hit it, Bridget pushed herself up on her knees and then whispered, "Ready?"

Wait. What? I started coughing, choking on the smoke mid-inhale. Recovering quickly, I croaked, "You're not serious." I didn't add the inflection at the end to make it into a question. At least, I didn't think so.

"Of course I'm serious," she said, very nonchalantly. "You paid for this, daddy."

"Yeah, I-I-I know, b-but--" I stammered, but she interrupted me.

"Listen," she said and I swallowed, staring into her blue eyes. When she seemed confident I wouldn't interrupt, she continued in a softer voice, "Don't tell me you've never fantasized about me?" She raised an eyebrow, as if daring me to answer in the negative. Less than two seconds later, she looked away briefly and whispered, "Lord knows I've fantasized about you."

"Jesus Christ, Bridget!" I tried to shout, but my voice was hoarse. My mind was racing, and so was my heart. I felt like even my own thoughts were stammering in my head. Of-of-of course I had fant-fantasized about h-her. B-but... but that was completely different. And harmless! It was all in my own head! And it wasn't like I would ever--

Just then, I felt my daughter's hand suddenly press against my crotch, rubbing my cock through the fabric of my pants. It was at that moment that I realized--with horror--that I was already hard. Had I been hard before she even started touching me?

Bridget's voice pitched low, sounding different to my ears. I had never heard her sound so husky before. She was still rubbing my erection, gently sliding her fingers up and down its length. She said, "Come on daddy, it's just fucking."

A brilliant burst of pleasure exploded at the base of my cock, plunging inside of me. I felt my stomach fluttering, my balls tingling, my body vibrating as it heated up. "Bridget!" I called her name urgently, but she didn't stop rubbing me.

Squirming on the bed, I tried to figure out what to do. Well, I knew what I should do. I should just slap her hand away and scramble up off the bed. But as I lay there, my daughter's clearly experienced hand caressing my cock, it was getting harder and harder to do anything but lie perfectly still. When I glanced at her face, I saw that she was staring at her own handiwork. And she had a mischievous smile on her lips.

Pleasure pulsed along the length of my penis over and over as my daughter continued to stroke it. Every time she pushed her hand down the shaft toward the base, I felt a new wave of pleasure rush ahead of her, rolling its way into my pelvis and up my body like a rippling wave. Closing my eyes, I groaned.

"That's it, daddy," Bridget cooed softly, still rubbing me. My eyes were still closed. I was almost afraid to open them. Maybe if I just tried to relax like this, my boner would go away and so would my daughter. Or maybe I would just wake up and realize this had just been a crazy dream.

The bed bounced a little and I heard rustling as my daughter shifted. What was she doing? Her hand was still moving up and down my shaft, but then I felt a lot of weight pressing down on it. Fluttering my eyes open, I took in the scene. Bridget was close to me, leaning over my body as she repositioned her legs. Her weight was pressing into my cock, although she somehow managed to continue stroking me. When she straightened, I felt her knee nestled against the outside of my thigh.

When she saw me staring at her, she smiled a big smile. One hand still rubbing my erection, my daughter reached out with her free hand and took the still-burning cigarette from my hand. I had completely forgotten about it. Pulling it to her face, I watched her take another drag. This time, she inhaled deeply before letting it out. I don't know why, but it was the most erotic thing I had ever witnessed. Leaning toward the window, Bridget mashed the cigarette in the ashtray several times. Turning back to me, her smile begging me to relax, she whispered, "Just don't cum in me, ok?" Her hand was still gliding up and down my shaft. It tingled like mad.

Finally, I nodded, feeling dumb. "Ok," I whispered. Wait--

Bridget's smile grew even bigger and, before I knew it, she was starting to unbutton my pants. She had to stop stroking me to do it, but a few seconds later, I heard the zipper slide down and then she was pulling and tugging at my waist. I felt the material slide slowly down my skin as she worked the pants down both my legs. Staring down my body to watch her, I saw my cock between the two of us, sticking up straight and taut. As soon as she got my pants the rest of the way off, she turned her head back toward me. I felt completely powerless. Some small voice was screaming in the back of my head, but it seemed disconnected from my body.

My daughter's eyebrows shot up into her head when she looked at my cock. "Wow," she whispered. For a few seconds, she just stared at it, almost as if she were awestruck. With a shake of her head, she quickly twisted herself beside me until she sat on her rear and then I watched the very surreal activity of my daughter pulling her panties down from underneath her dress. I couldn't take my eyes away from the silky white fabric as she slid them down her gorgeous legs. When she reached her feet, she bent her legs a little and they slipped off.

Turning toward me, Bridget had her panties dangling from one finger, held out in front of herself. She was grinning at me. My cock twitched, raging with blood. And then, without another word, my daughter lifted her leg over mine and straddled me.

Slowly tilting my head, I looked down my body once more. Just a few inches past my cock was my daughter's vagina. It was unlike any vagina I had ever seen. Her skin looked soft and creamy, right up to the slit between her lips. I could only see a hint of red. Her skin was puffy and formed two beautiful lumps of skin that clung together. She spread her legs a little further and her lips parted, finally revealing the pink, fleshy interior. God, it looked so perfect.