**AUTHOR'S NOTE**: Well, it's been two years since I released an update to Jenny and Daddy's naughty adventures. I've been working away on this and a lot of other hot projects. This chapter is definitely more of a slow burn, you've been warned. There is some background that I wanted in the story, and then some hot, slippery fun at the end there. Enjoy loves xoxo.
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It had been a few days since Daddy and I had really talked. It had been a few days since I had even really thought about him, or all we had done so far. School had been...distracting. I still kissed Daddy on the cheek before I left for school every day, but I had very little time after school to indulge in the fantasies we had set up for each other.
I had an incredible amount of tests coming up, as is usual for the end of one's school year. Days' worth of homework were stacking up. While I was usually a good student there was another factor making my once-was-easy senior year much, much harder.
Max.
Where a man had been unraveling the small tensions of my high school life with just two sexual encounters, a boy was attempting to rack up every tension possible. I first noticed the upcoming obstacles the day after I sucked down Daddy's semen. I walked into school prepared for a normal Tuesday and immediately noticed that something was different. Everyone was looking at me. And it wasn't as if I just felt like everyone was looking at me, like some paranoid girl... Everyone was looking at me.
I nearly had a panic attack before the first bell—why were all eyes on me? Everywhere I walked I saw heads turn in my direction. I had on my normal school outfit: a pair of blue jeans and a tight fitting T-shirt, my hair up in a messy ponytail and no makeup on my face. There was nothing special to look at, in my mind, so did that mean that everyone knew? That everyone knew that I craved Daddy's cock every second since he had thrust it inside of me, taking my virginity with a promise to do and take more?
No. What everyone "knew" was that Max had "fucked" me. Apparently he had taken a turn for the worse after our breakup. Barely two days after I had ended things with him was he spreading rumors around the school. Max had always had more friends than I had (zero times zero is zero, after all) and in that way I guess he had more power over me. He quickly and easily created a hard and heavy timeline of our sexual encounters. Within three class periods I heard, or read via social media, how I was the slut willing to do just about anything in bed. According to Max I had let him tie me up and strip me down. According to Max I had begged him to cover me in his semen, fill me with his semen, suck his semen down. According to Max, I had let him penetrate every accessible hole I had.
Really, while Max and I had been dating, I thought he was sweet but a bit of a dolt. As it turned out, Max had an incredible imagination. When we had the breakup talk he had not let on at all how hurt he was. Apparently, he was incredibly sore that after all of the time we spent together I had never "put out" for him. After hearing and reading all that he claimed we had done I was little more than amused. I knew that I was supposed to feel hurt and betrayed, disgusted that he would take such childish actions against me when we were supposed to act like adults in our senior year. I decided that first day to try to talk to him about it.
"Hey." I texted him.
"Heeey babbyy." He responded, like an idiot. I could already tell that this wasn't going to be easy.
"Can we talk?"
"Of course, I knew you'd want to. When and where, Jenny?"
I asked him to meet me on the bleachers after school. We'd be around other people and hopefully he wouldn't make a scene. I had way too much schoolwork to worry about silly rumors, but I was already tired of the stares. He agreed to meet me, sent me some unimportant emoticons, and I stopped texting him immediately after. I went through the second half of the school day in a haze—taking notes, ignoring the whispers and stares, taking more notes and filling my calendar with the many tests coming up.
***
Talking to Max ended up being the worst course of action. He acted only like a hurt little boy. He accused me of cheating on him with multiple of his friends; claimed that after he started discussing our sexual explorations several of his friends had come forward with even more outlandish stories. According to them, I had been tied up and anally fucked by half of the boys in our grade, maybe more. He wouldn't listen when I tried to tell him that none of this was true. I couldn't tell him I had lost my virginity to my father and maybe even struck up a relationship with him, so I kept telling him I was still a virgin, that I had never slept with anyone.
Max then made it a point to throw a fit about how I never slept with him. He was nearly in tears, ranting about how he put all of this time and money into me over the years and never received anything but a brief rub through the jeans for all of it. This was when I became truly upset- I had thought for so long that I was in love with Max, that one day I would be ready to give my virginity to him and we would get married and live some sort of fairy tale. How wrong I had been; Max was nothing more than a selfish, sex obsessed child.
Max and I ended up screaming at each other on the bleachers in front of several onlookers and the entire soccer team. I rarely raised my voice or got that upset but I quickly saw why Daddy had wanted me to save my virginity. He had wanted to show me how sex works and how real men act, and now Max and Daddy both had taught me valuable lessons. I had gone home that day and buried myself in my books, ignoring the multiple "pings" of my phone as my social media blew up.
The rumors grew worse over the coming days. They grew bigger and more obscene, with more men throwing their names into the "who did Jenny give it to" hat. If I wanted to take a psychological point of view on it all I would have guessed that most of the school had wanted to fuck me for a long time and that was why they were all participating in such an egregious lie. But I didn't want to think about it any deeper than I already had; I barely wanted to think about it at all. I was in several advanced classes, taking tests left and right to place myself in certain college courses, studying constantly. I tried not to let the stress of the normal school year affect me, let alone the extra stress of a malicious ex attacking me.
The stress of the week came to a head tonight. Max would not stop texting me, vulgar statements about the way my ass looked in my jeans or how my tits had felt under his hands the one time he got a good grip on them. All I was trying to do was complete my chemistry homework without distractions, and all he was trying to do was destroy me. He knew I was a good little girl who would be inside on a Friday night studying instead of hanging out with friends or partying. He knew that I had once had no one but him and my father. He knew that I didn't party. As it turned out, Max actually took notes and took notice like an adult. But only to use it against me.
"I wish I could twist your nipples one more time. Only this time you'd beg me to do more instead of push me away like you always did."
"U looked so good in class today. I wish I could be inside of those jeans."
I was able to ignore most of the stupid texts. In between questions I would glance at my phone, read the message, and go on about my studying. Max's final text tossed me over the edge, though, and not the good edge that Daddy had tossed me over. From what I could tell, Max was drunk and feeling even more hateful than he had all week since we ended.
