How To Train Your Daughter Ch 11

Thank you for all your support and ideas and wonderful conversation. I hope you enjoy this next episode in the girls' adventures.

This is a two-part chapter in a chronologically and procedurally arranged series; I'd recommend that you start with Ch. 1 to get your bearings (which also happens to be one of the most popular chapters), or at least read Ch. 2, which is a very short synopsis of the rules of the universe in these stories, but at this point the story has grown mature enough you're probably best off simply reading through in order.

This series deals with first-time, free-use, age difference, light BDSM/noncon, and light incest.

I love to correspond with my readers. Feel free to write anytime; just make sure to add your email to the message if you want me to write you back :-)

Robert

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Bon Jovi's 'Runaway' blasted on the speakers of the classic red Camaro as Jennifer pulled into the gas station. Her thick, brunette ponytail and the wide, blue bow that held it bounced as she took a speed bump with a little too much velocity, and she giggled sheepishly and set her sunglasses on top of her head as she pulled up to the fuel pump.

She loved the music video for this song; she thought she looked kind of like the girl in it, and she'd been tickled to find out her name was Jennifer, too.

Also she thought the drummer was super hot.

It was funny to her how much she liked the song. She didn't want to run away. She was really well behaved, and always had been, so much so that there was literally nothing that made her melt as fast as when her father or another man gently took her cheek in his hand, looked her in her eyes, and told her she was a good girl.

She'd spent her entire life trying to live up to that. She was surrounded by loving family and friends; she got excellent grades and had been accepted to a great college. She was planning on majoring in marine biology; she'd loved the ocean since she was little, and her dream was to contribute in any way she could to its study and conservation. She'd been a competitive gymnast and cheerleader in high school, and she'd won first place in her Festival a couple weeks ago.

And hungry as she always was to hear a man call her a good girl, there were no more crushing words she could be told than the opposite. Ever since she was little, nothing could bring her to penitent tears faster than her father's low, sad voice when she'd been naughty saying, 'Jennifer, sweet daughter, you've been a bad girl.'

But even with all of this hard work and dedication and commitment, sometimes she just wanted to be...bad. Or at least pretend to be bad. And that, she thought, was very funny.

Getting gas real quick!

Got some cute undies for today ;-)

Want a iced coffee? I'm getting one

CU soon! :-*

She sent the text and wrinkled her nose momentarily in an adorable pout as she shut off the idling ignition of the big old muscle car..

She loved the rumble of the giant engine. She'd discovered a position for her butt on the sun-warmed leather seat where the powerful purr focused directly on the perfect spot on her pussy, and she'd enjoyed feeling her secret slickness slowly seeping between her labia on the short drive to the gas station.

She had a fleeting sense that she got a little wetter as she typed out 'cute undies', but that would be weird given who she was texting, so she brushed it off as just her imagination and hopped out of the convertible. Her dad had helped her take her top off, and she'd caught a lot of appreciative eyes as she'd cruised in full view of everyone on the street in the sunny warmth of the late summer afternoon.

The car was the same one she had used for her Festival intro video, and was a gift from Doug Ashland, the neighbor across the street from her family's house. A kind man in his mid-fifties, he'd watched Jennifer grow up since he and his wife moved in ten years ago, and he'd always been sweet to her, telling her often how grown-up she was becoming, and how much he looked forward to her Festival.

He'd been happy to lend the car to her for her video, and was so proud of her first place finish that he gave it to her as a gift, saying no one could possibly look better in it than she did, on the playful condition that she wash it in her dad's driveway in a bikini every so often for him while he did his lawn work.

She was astonished and deeply grateful, and she was even more happy when he reserved her for four whole days of training next week to travel with him to New York City on a business trip, where he was looking forward to introducing her to a couple of his friends who he said should have the chance to handle such a perfect young female.

Jennifer, who had never been to the City, was excited for the adventure, but she was especially happy to have the chance to demonstrate her gratitude for Mr. Ashland's generosity to the best of her ability.

Her dad made sure she understood that work travel could be very tiring for a businessman, as well as stressful without the customary comforts of home or his wife to help temper the rough-and-tumble realities of the business world, and she resolved she would do everything she could to help Mr. Ashland feel relaxed and energized each evening when he returned to the hotel from his meetings, and to be as generous and welcoming as she could to his associates.

She was still new to this chapter of her life, and while she was fairly sure men enjoyed training her, it was difficult to fully dispel doubts about her skills or appearance; bringing her along obviously entailed significant additional expenditures for Mr. Ashland, and she just hoped she could possibly be worth it for him.

The lithe young girl, her thin white sundress cavorting with such abandon in the light, late summer breeze that it was almost completely derelict in its primary-though nearly universally unpopular-job of protecting Jennifer's modesty, just managed to press the long, heavy gas nozzle all the way into the receptive opening of her tank between the sleekly sculpted rear haunches of the SS, and was absently listening to its heavy 'chug-chug-chug-chug' as it enthusiastically pumped powerful streams of gasoline into the belly of the beautiful, thirsty car, when the man at the next pump walked over with a smile and a greeting.

'My goodness, that body is gorgeous,' he said with the flash of a brilliant grin, his well-fitted suit hinting at a trim, confident frame that belied his middle age as he came close and kissed her on the cheek, giving her a little wink. 'Also, you're quite beautiful yourself, sweet girl. Are you eligible?'

It was the first time since her Festival that Jennifer had been in public unaccompanied by her father, and her first experience being evaluated for training by a stranger. She knew this was normal and good, but she still caught a thrill of nerves as he lightly caressed her small, braless breasts over the insubstantial fabric of her dress, ran an appreciative hand through her hair, and treated her as if he already knew most of what was important for him to be able to enjoy her body, should he choose to. As an eligible man, he was entitled to complete access to her body for pretty much any sexual purpose he might conceive, whenever he may please-and he did indeed seem pleased with her.

This was the complete unknown for Jennifer. This man was not a friend of hers, nor an acquaintance of her father's, and her father wasn't here to instruct her or to mediate whatever lesson the man might want to teach her.

She wasn't exactly afraid, and of course she'd been carefully raised her whole life for this exact purpose, but she was still taken aback by the immediacy, the familiarity, and the matter-of-factness with which this man, whom she had never before seen, was permitted and prepared to strip her out of her clothing and fuck her as simply a matter of course for his afternoon, as he was allowed to do to any young girl in training.

There was nowhere for her to go, no way to escape. This was what it meant to be a trainee. She consciously worked to control her breathing, smiled while she spoke, and maintained eye contact.

'You're a Festival champion, girl. Make him understand you want to be trained,' she reminded herself. 'Let him know you're excited to learn from him. Look for ways to show him you are ready to welcome him inside your body in any way he likes, and you want to help extract his semen.'

She did her best to remember her training and her etiquette lessons, running through the first section of her maxims in her head as she'd been taught to calm herself and stay on track:

'I. My entire body is a temple of goodness and pleasure.'

'II. My entire body was created to induce men to couple with it by offering them ultimate pleasure.'

'III. A man's purpose is to couple with bodies like mine.'

'IV. When a man fulfills his purpose with my body, my purpose is fulfilled.'

'V. Nothing is more important than fulfilling my purpose.'

She hoped he would be nice to her.

She knew her best plan always was to be friendly and accommodating, obey every instruction, go the extra mile and make sure to offer herself fully to him, and trust that her body would instinctively respond positively to whatever the man wanted to do with her, even if her brain didn't fully understand it yet, or if it was scary or embarrassing or painful.

At the end of the day, she reminded herself, taking refuge against the unknown in the safe harbor of her solemn duties, the most important things are what I can learn from him when he trains me, and whether I can make sure he feels really good and has fun with my body and I can help him have awesome orgasms.

'I am eligible, sir,' she nodded cheerfully and scampered to retrieve her handbag from the passenger seat in order to produce her ID.

It was instantly clear that in her frazzled promptitude to comply with the stranger, she had badly misjudged her plan. Her Kate Spade had slid further away during her somewhat riotous rock-and-roll arrival at the gas pump than she'd noticed in her haste to obey the man, and because she was wearing a pair of low, flat-soled greek sandals, she had to stretch high up onto her perfect toes, her feet barely touching the pavement, in order to grasp the leather strap.

As she leaned over the door and reached across the warm leather, groaning inwardly at how clumsy and dumb she must appear to the man now, she unwittingly treated him to the delicious sight of her long calves and the bare backs of her thighs straining for the final inch, and her delicate, perfectly-proportioned feet arched high out of her sandals, exposing her lightly-colored soles and highlighting the graceful reciprocal arcs of her heels and achilles to the appreciative man.

The flounced hem of her sundress, which was already just barely long enough to conceal her buttocks when she stood straight and still, was suddenly lifted by a helpful gust and ended up on her back as a long-haul semi-trailer roared past on the street with an appreciative horn blast, fully exposing her nethers to the gentleman and anyone else who cared to look.

At the exact same fortuitous moment, a single, desperate lunge being all that separated Jennifer from handbag retrieval victory, her foot lost its tenuous grip on the pavement and flew back, missing landing a mortal blow to the gentleman's crotch only by virtue of some impressively athletic quickness on his part, and sending her sandal skidding several feet across the concrete and her nearly tumbling headlong, with a mortified squeak, into the Camaro.

There was to be no saving of her dignity. She thought she would die of embarrassment.

With a chuckle and a frank swiftness that spoke to his years of practice handling girls, the man saluted the hard work of the Teamsters with one hand and sprang to the utterly mortified girl's side and placed a his other firm hand on the small of her back, keeping her in place and accepting the green-bordered ID card she resignedly reached back to offer him.

On verifying she was eligible for training he returned her card, then took a moment to admire her accidental exposure and the delights that the breeze had revealed as she remained bent over the Camaro's door, only her bare butt and legs visible and available for anyone on the street to enjoy.

The man's practiced hand traced her curves and tested her muscle tone, and reached down and bent her knee, grasping her exquisitely articulated ankle and pulling her naked, sandal-less foot back, like a farrier shoeing a filly, carefully examining her freshly-manicured toes and her arch with a quiet chuckle of delight at their perfection. He gently released her foot so she could resume holding it daintily above the dirty pavement, then she felt his fingers hook the back of her blue thong and pull it away from between her butt cheeks so he could inspect her vagina and anus as she hung, defeated and unresisting, across the Camaro's sun-warmed door.

She blushed a 'thank you' as he murmured his approval and used both his hands to spread her cheeks and view inside her opening, the cool air causing her to shiver deliciously as it made contact with her slick insides for the first time today. He tugged gently on her inner labia and explored her entrance briefly with the tip of his thumb, remarking on how wet she already was; she didn't tell him it was from riding in her car, and she breathed a huge sigh of relief that he seemed satisfied she was worth spending some time training despite the hot mess she apparently was today.

With a couple pats on her naked butt he carefully returned her panties' gusset to its job of covering and protecting her girl bits, taking an extra moment to ensure that it was properly positioned and tight enough across her lips that he could still see the outline of her slit through the light, form-fitting cloth. Then let her back up to her feet and allowed her to retrieve her sandal, and scheduled a lesson with her for the next week, after she returned from New York.

Sometimes a man had specific things he wanted to teach a girl, but practice of the fundamentals was the foundation of any trainee's success, and often lessons might be comprised of review or even exhibition of what a girl had learned so far. The gentleman remarked with a smile and another gentle kiss on her lips that he was very much looking forward to enjoying her body and assessing her slate of skills she'd begun to master in her first three weeks as a trainee, and he was greatly anticipating the pleasure of being inside her.

She smiled ruefully, attempting to hide her flustered state, and kissed him back with just a little extra kitten tongue, ardently and needlessly reassuring the amused man that she wasn't normally this clumsy and that she'd work extra hard in their lesson to be good for him.

After the gentleman had left and the Camaro's tank was full, Jennifer hopped back in and smiled as Bon Jovi wailed back to life and she checked her messages.

Grrrrlll can't wait to see

you in yo' sexy panties

ROWRRR

LOL JK JK JK ;-P

Get me a latte?

pappa and gramma

are gone for the day

got the place

to ourselves :-D

She thought again that she got wetter with a little nudge of pleasure in her cunny as she read the text, but brushed it aside. What with the Camaro's throaty rumble and her encounter with the gentleman she was already quite a mess, and it was anyone's guess what was causing any of it now. At this point she was simply abuzz with a general happiness, possibility, and arousal. She grinned to herself in anticipation as she stopped at her favorite coffee shop and got drinks for herself and Elizabeth. Today was going to be fun.

The two girls had hit it off at the father-daughter party over the weekend, bonding over their strong opinions about the writing decisions in the third season of what turned out to be their mutually favorite zombie thriller TV show, and their shared love of giving head, and they had decided to team up today at the Davis' house to do a little photo shoot together to create more images for their online training profiles.

The couple weeks since her Festival, though fun and very educational, had been hectic and packed as well, and Jennifer was looking forward to a relaxing, chill day by her new friend's grandpa's pool in the sun getting in some much-needed girl time.

Elizabeth's parents had moved around a lot when she was little, and they sent her away to an all-girls boarding high school near Chicago almost four years ago; she'd only been back for a couple short holiday visits in that time. She'd returned to celebrate her Festival two weeks ago, and unfortunately her father, who would normally have been responsible for showing her, had been called out of the country on an urgent business trip. She'd been staying with her grandparents, Martin and Marie Davis, and her grandfather had stepped up to handle her for her Festival.

The Festival season was typically two weeks long; it began with the Festival itself, and then involved easing the newly eligible girls into their new roles, helping them get more comfortable with sharing their bodies, lots of lovely gifts from admirers, and intimate lessons from close family friends or even male relatives in order to accustom the girls to their responsibilities in a safe, caring environment before they were fully released to the community to fulfill their purpose.

That time was nearly over now, and Elizabeth would be heading back to Chicago tomorrow to finish her last semester. Jennifer was grateful to get the chance to hang out with her before she left, and she hoped their friendship would continue.

Elizabeth greeted her at the door with a happy little dance in nothing but a pair of pink boyshort panties whose wide-cut fabric spanned luxuriously across her expansive hips, and a well-worn, silky-soft gray tank top with the NASA logo on it that could only be said to capably contain her large, full breasts if it was meant in deepest irony.

Her bosom's unrealistic demands on the limited and ancient fabric of this excuse for a top meant that most of her soft, curvy belly was visible; several full inches separated the tank top from her tummy, creating an irresistibly inviting gap above her perfect navel that beckoned one's hand to slide up the warm darkness of its canopy and explore the heavy, luscious pair of treasures that it pretended to be sufficient to conceal.

Her giant hazel eyes with their long dark lashes sparkled behind her big round glasses, and the girls squealed in excitement as they hugged, then made their way downstairs and out back to the pool. Jennifer was struck again by the luxurious fullness of Elizabeth's short, curvy body; she was incredibly cuddly looking, with a head of long, thick, curly blond hair she wore pulled to the side with a single pink streak shooting through it.

She always seemed so comfortable in her own body, no matter how much clothing she was wearing, and now, in just a simple tanktop and panties, every move of her slow thighs promised unspeakable pleasures to any man lucky enough to find himself between them. Jennifer shook her head in awe as she followed her friend; she could only pray that she looked half as delicious to a man from behind.

Elizabeth's grandparents lived in a spacious contemporary home, and the girls stepped through the sliding glass door to the large, covered patio. It was a lovely brick extension to the rest of the house, with big overstuffed outdoor furniture, a grill, and a flatscreen TV hanging in the corner. Everything about the house spoke of hospitality and comfort, and Jennifer flopped comfortably down on one of the couches with her iced coffee.

'Okay, so I've got a ton of awesome photo ideas,' she chattered excitedly, 'I did some research and I found a bunch of girls on the app with good pics that we can copy.'