Over the next few weeks it got worse. I had no clue why Jenna hated her mother so much, nor why she should include me in her hostility, since I hadn't even met her mother until several years after her parents' divorce. All I knew was that every glance, every word spoken by her was like she was spitting acid. I especially hated it when she called me "Daddy" in a snide, nasal whine, drawling out the word as if it had fifteen syllables. I told her that I had no desire to take the place of her father, and that she was free to call me Danny, but she pretended not to hear me.
Mary was completely oblivious. She blithely took Jenna shopping, invariably steering her daughter toward clothing stores that were aimed at younger customers. She baked cookies. She didn't notice that Jenna never did the dishes, never helped with housework, and seemed to expect us to act as her servants.
Mary scheduled family movie nights and even tried to get Jenna to watch the movie, "Swiss Family Robinson" together. Really – "Swiss Family Robinson"? Apparently they had watched it several times when Jenna and her twin sister Evie were young, and Mary wanted to recreate the sense of family togetherness.
Jenna played along, watching "Swiss Family Robinson" and other G-rated kiddie movies with us. But I felt like I was sitting on the couch next to a scorpion. Okay, a really hot scorpion. A really hot scorpion with bouncy 32F tits.
Jenna continued to wear tight, provocative clothing, and as the days passed, she wore less and less of it. She started with shorts and bare midriffs. But then she started walking to and from the bathroom wearing only a towel that wrapped around her lush, big tits and barely covered her crotch. Soon she was walking around the house in her bra and panties and calling out, "Hey Mom! I can't find my skirt! Have you seen it?" even though I knew for a fact that the supposedly missing skirt was hanging in her closet. When she saw me looking at her, she thrust her chest out and shook her shoulders, sending her big soft tits wobbling in all directions. She smirked as she looked me dead in the eye.
The little bitch knew she was hot, and she knew I found her attractive. She was deliberately teasing me.
The kicker came one afternoon when she and I were alone in the house. I was walking down the hall when I heard her talking on the phone to her father back in Indonesia. Her door was wide open – as if she wanted me to see her and overhear her conversation.
She was sitting on the bed, dressed only in a skirt and bra. "I hate it here, Dad," she was saying. "You wouldn't believe how small and tacky Mom's house is."
There was a pause. Evidently, her father was asking her a question. Jenna looked up, saw me standing in the doorway and held my gaze as she answered, "Oh, he's the worst part." She planted her feet on the bed with her knees raised and opened her legs so that her skirt slid towards her waist. With one hand she spread the lips of her bare pussy for me to view while she continued, "He's such a perv. He's always looking at me, now matter how conservatively I dress."
She paused in speaking, apparently listening to something her father was saying. With her free hand, she cradled one of her big tits and bounced it up and down while smirking at me. Then she started tweaking her nipple through her see-through bra. All the while, she stared straight into my eyes. She moved her hand down to her bare snatch and as her skirt rose up her thighs and gathered at her waist, she started fingering herself, thrusting her naked hips at me. She made a contorted face at me and pantomimed having an orgasm. She silently mouthed the words "Fuck You" at me while she listened to her father's voice.
Then she spoke again into the phone: "His name's Danny Cooke. But get this: his middle name is Horace – how lame can you get?" A pause. Then: "Yeah, I know he's not to blame for whatever middle name his parents gave him. It's still lame." She pumped her fingers in and out of her twat and stared me in the face as she continued, "He insists that I call him Daddy – the perv. I feel like he's undressing me with his eyes." She brought her hand up to her face and started licking the finger that she had used on her clit. Then, using the same finger, she flipped me the bird. All the while, her eyes never left mine.
I shut the door and walked away.
After that, it seemed like she showed even less restraint in teasing me and provoking me. Inside the house, she stopped wearing blouses, and instead typically walked around the house in her bra and a skirt.
I admit that I enjoyed the view. Her tits were nothing less than spectacular. They looked huge on her small, slim body: round and delectable, with no sag whatsoever. I loved watching them bounce with each step. Usually, I could see a hint of her areolas through the gauzy translucence of her bras. And when she walked, she deliberately sashayed past me in such a way as to accentuate the sway of her hips and the bouncing wobbling of her prodigious jutting breasts.
Her tits were so prominent, so big and round, that it was easy to see the sides of both boobs even when her back was toward me. Seen from behind, I had a view of her amazing round boobs as well as her perfect ass.
Her ass was incredible, too. Round and firm, her asscheeks jutted out behind her in such a way that I could not keep my eyes off her as she walked away from me. When she wore nothing but minuscule panties that barely covered any part of her ass – which was often – I could see that she did not have an ounce of fat or cellulite on her amazing asscheeks or thighs.
And she knew it. She knew exactly how good looking she was. She was deliberately flaunting her fantastic body in front of me in the worst case of prick teasing that I had ever experienced or even heard of. She knew that she was completely off limits to me. She was looking for a chance to nail my scrotum to a board.
Incredible as the view was, it seemed like a disaster waiting to happen. I felt it was better to stop her. A few weeks after Jenna moved in, I spoke to Mary about her. "Don't you think," I asked, "that a young lady her age needs to show a little more modesty?"
I loved Mary partly because she was so optimistic and sunny, always thinking the best of people. But this time her sunny naivete was not what was needed. Cluelessly, she answered, "Oh, Danny! She's just a young girl! When she was six years old, she and her sister Evie used to prance about the house practically naked!"
"Well, she's not six years old any more," I answered. "She's nineteen. Can you please talk to her about walking around the house when she's only half dressed?"
"I'm sorry, Danny, but I can't do that. Don't you see that she's still adjusting to life with me after so much time apart? We have so many years to catch up on! I don't want to create discomfort where there doesn't have to be any. I want Jenna to feel completely comfortable to be herself around us."
I felt like I had slipped through the looking glass into a world that was the reverse of normal. Jenna was teasing me more every day, and not only was her mother oblivious to her actions, I was put in the bizarre position of trying to keep the little sexpot from flaunting her body at me. And all the while, she was badmouthing me to her father on the other side of the world, accusing me of being a pervert.
A few days later, Jenna upped the ante. She continued to prance around the house in her underwear while her mother innocently beamed at the fact that her daughter seemed to be adapting so well to our household. And while Jenna was in her mother's presence, she called me "Daddy", injecting into that simple name all the ironic sarcasm that she could.
But then when we were alone in the house, she took to calling me "Pencil Dick".
Yeah, I know. Sticks and stones, right? Why should I care what this spoiled little bitch called me?
However, the fact is that I am anything BUT a "pencil dick". I'm actually pretty well endowed. Hell, I'm VERY well endowed, though it's not something I advertise. My cock is nine and a half inches long and extremely thick, and I've never had any complaints in the stamina department. Of course, one of the oddities of male as opposed to female anatomy is that women display their physical charms every time they put on a dress, whereas a man's equipment is usually hidden inside their trousers. It's impossible to judge a man's penis size on the basis of his overall build, or his height, or – despite what they say about President Trump – even the size of his hands. Outwardly, I'm an ordinary guy: medium build, somewhat taller than average. But down below, my nine and a half inch rod is another story.
