I'm not sure how daughters grow up so fast. Heck, I couldn't tell you how I got to be 38 myself, given that I was just 18 a week or so ago. I'm almost sure of that. I still remember being in college, living in a rickety old 6 bedroom house 5 miles off campus, being young, doing the things young people do. I still remember going out at night with the guys, or having incredible sex with my very hot girlfriend. But somewhere in there, my hot girlfriend got pregnant, became my hot young bride and then my not-as-hot-but-she's-mine wife. I of course became her not-so-hot-either husband and I also became "Dad".
My daughter Lynette was born 3 months after Carrie and I got married. She was a doll, even when she was screaming her head off. Well – maybe not so much of a doll, but you get the point. I watched her grow up – pre-school, kindergarten, pigtails and CareBears and all. And somewhere along the line, she turned into this incredible young woman who was now doing a gymnastic routine that I could only sit in awe of, in front of 1000 people in her high-school gymnasium. How did this happen? Each graceful twirl, each perfectly controlled leap through the air was golden. I was lucky if I could put my socks on anymore without pulling a calf muscle. Well, maybe that's an exaggeration. I'm still in pretty decent shape. For an old guy as Lynette would say.
But amidst being overwhelmed by my daughter's youthful athleticism and petite beauty, I was rocketed back into a new stage of reality by the comments from the two high-school jocks behind me:
"Jesus, look at the ass on that!"
"Never mind her ass! Look at those tits! She needs to tape those babies down!"
Laughter. More off-color comments. My daughter! I wanted to kill them.
"That's my daughter you jackasses!" I finally hissed, whirling around to confront them. My wife looked up stunned as I stood up in the bleachers. The two jocks looked up at me and then quickly at each other and back again. "Uh sorry man. We uh, we didn't know" said Tweedledum. "Yeah, like, we didn't mean anything by it..." Tweedledee chimed in. Intellectual prodigies, these boys.
"Yeah well, shut the hell up!" I bellowed. "She's a good girl and she doesn't need that crap said about her by two morons like you! I hear one more word out of you two chumps and I'll drop you right here! Got it?" Ah, the hero. Truth is they probably could have kicked the living shit out of me, but I was old and I had the benefit of surprise on my side. They were stunned.
"Sorry" one of them said sarcastically as I sat back down.
My wife placed her hand on my arm and smiled softly in alarm at me. 'Good job', her expression said. 'You're lucky they didn't throw you off the bleachers'. It's amazing what a look can tell you.
Like the look that must have crossed my face as I now beheld my 18 year-old daughter in the wake of what must have been obvious to everyone in the gym but me. My daughter was stunning. And the two twits behind me were right: she had a perfectly shaped teenage ass. And her breasts...wait a second! What in the fuck was I doing? "You OK hun?" my wife's voice filtered in through my sordid reverie.
"Uh yeah – I'm just...I'm just still pissed, you know?" I babbled.
"Oh. You just had this really weird expression on your face." Carrie replied. "Well, don't worry about it so much hun. They're just boys. Remember what you were like? And you have to face it John, your daughter's a little hottie!" she smirked.
Tell me about it, I thought. "Yeah well, I'm trying not to think about it." I growled. "I don't want her with guys like me." The irony of which totally escaped me.
"She could do a lot worse, baby," Carrie smiled. Kissed my cheek. How did I get so lucky?
An hour later the competition was over. Lynette had won a silver in floor gymnastics and was glowing. My wife, Carrie had a girl-date with some friends afterwards to go shopping, so I was left to bring Lynette home, which was a rare occasion because she was hardly ever home anymore. Suddenly the feeling of having missed something somewhere overwhelmed me again. Who was this girl standing in front of me?
"Hi Daddy" she cooed, leaning in to give me a kiss on the cheek. Fresh soap and strawberry shampoo. She had managed a quick shower after the competition. "Did you see me?" she gleamed.
"Did I see you?" I scoffed. "You were the only girl out there weren't you?" I teased.
"OK, now you're sucking up!" she laughed. "Was I good?" she hinted, looking for the compliment.
"You were beautiful sweetheart" I blurted, not really thinking about her question so much as the sexy green eyes that looked up at me under half lidded, long black lashes.
"Thanks Daddy, but was I good?" she pressed.
"Oh...yeah, yeah baby, you...of course you were honey" I managed, trying to recover. "You were amazing! Definitely must have gotten Mom's genes!" I smiled.
"I dunno Dad. You're not so bad yourself." She smiled looking me up and down for a second, raising her eyebrows in a manner that looked like she was impressed. Then she added "For an old guy!" biting her lower lip and punching me in the arm.
"Ow!" I exclaimed "Easy there, girl. I'm a fragile old man!" I said, rubbing my arm in mock agony.
"Yeah, yeah, that's not what Mom says" she tossed back, walking off down the hall in front of me. And then, I did something that I shouldn't have, but couldn't stop. My eyes dropped down to that perfectly shaped, tight, beautiful young ass, now covered in tight, nothing-to-the-imagination stretch gym shorts. Her hips swayed alluringly from side to side, naturally as she walked. I was lost in the moment. So much so that I didn't realize she had turned her head and was looking at me, a bemused expression settling on her face. "Earth to Dad!" she laughed. Then a saucy "See something you like?" I looked up to see her eyes dancing, flirting with me.
"You're growing up too fast" I stammered, feeling a blush coming on. Me blushing! Jesus, what the hell was going on with me? I walked faster and caught up to her, passing her as if I was trying to open the door for her as we left the school.
"Doesn't look like you mind" I heard her voice taunt from somewhere behind me.
If only she knew, I mused. I needed air. I'd actually begun to perspire.
The car ride home was only worse. It started off fine...Lynette talked about the competition, about her routine, mistakes that no one saw. She smiled at some points, grimaced at others. Her face was all youthful animation, a study in emotional transitions. And I mostly didn't hear a word she said. For me, all I could think of was, where did my 5 year old daughter go, and where did these fabulous tanned legs come from? Oh, I nodded at the right times. And because I was driving it was easy to have an excuse to mostly stare straight ahead.
But, like the ass I am, I just couldn't make it home without doing another stupid guy thing. Which was this: At one point, Lynette had shifted to face me, and had pulled one leg up onto the seat. She was gesturing wildly and laughing about something one of her friends did before the meet and at first I was looking out the window at the road like I should have been. But then we slowed to a stop at a light and I turned to look at her, and the only thing I could see clearly in the light from the street lamp was the way her little pink shorts had pulled tight between her thighs. And it was as if someone with a really perverse sense of humor had placed a spotlight on the one thing that I, a 38 year-old father, should not be looking at. But I did look at it and I was utterly and completely lost. In that one moment, I saw what can only be described as the most beautifully sculpted, framed teenage pussy I have ever seen. The way the cloth pulled in between the folds of her soft, puffy lips, highlighted by the shadows from the streetlight – it was indescribable.
And I did it again. I stared straight at it. And the trance was only broken when my daughter's fingers, with their long, red fingernails dropped casually over it.
My eyes jerked upwards to meet hers, panic spreading like fire across my face. Her eyes held the same look that I saw back at the school. One eyebrow raised, a combination of amusement and...and what?
"Do you want me to pull them to the side, Daddy?" she said softly, looking up under her lashes at me.
"Wha-what?" I choked. "Lynette, honey, that's...that's..."
"What Daddy?" she asked, all little girl and innocence. "It's wrong?" Big wide green eyes.
"Yes" I sputtered. "Yes it's wrong!" I emphasized, taking charge now. Dad was back in control!
Lynette pouted and then half-pouted, half-smirked. "You know, if you turn right at the next street it goes to the park." She offered, casually.
"Yeah, so?" I returned.
"So...we could go over there and you could watch me do this..." she said, cocking her head slightly to one side as her red-nailed fingers moved slowly upward from covering the outside of her shorts, to toying with her waistband before finally pushing boldly inside of them. I watched as her hand slid down underneath the taut fabric of her tight, pink shorts. I stared silently at the outline of her fingers as her small hand cupped herself between her legs. And I looked up to see the most seductive woman that I'd ever seen stare into my eyes, lips slightly parted and glistening, long eyelashes partly enshrouding her moonlight eyes. My throat went absolutely dry. And I got the hardest, fastest erection of my life. Dad was definitely back out of control.
The blaring horn of the car behind me, with the accompanying "Move asshole! The light's not going to get any fucking greener" is what saved my soul. Shocked out of my hypnotic and illicit coma, my eyes and head jerked back to the street in front of me and I tromped on the gas, shooting away from the intersection and out of range of the braying horns behind me. When I finally looked back at my daughter, she was sitting there again, facing the windshield, staring straight ahead. Silence.
The moment was gone. I was Dad again. But I knew I was still hopelessly lost forever.
The rest of the drive home was quiet. The kind of stillness that's almost loud, if you know what I mean. It was actually almost worse than talking about what had transpired. Almost.
When the car pulled to a stop in the driveway, Lynette grabbed her gym bag off the front floor and almost leapt out of the car. I sat in the car. Watched her march up the sidewalk to the front door. And yes, even in my confused shame, I still glanced at her tight ass before mentally flogging myself again.
A few minutes later, I followed her in. Lynette had already gone upstairs, presumably to study, or listen to music, or whatever else she did in her room. Hell, I'd lost track of what teenagers did somewhere about the time she started wearing a tongue stud, which was around fifteen years old, I think. What was that about? No matter. She still had it now and I'd gotten used to that, and ignored most of the rest.
Strangely, I heard the shower turn on. She'd obviously had a shower at the gym. Maybe not. Maybe she just washed her hair.
For some reason, I decided to head up the stairs, maybe to talk, maybe to...hell I don't know. As I rounded the corner, Lynette stepped out of the bathroom in her bra and panties to get a towel from the hall closet. I stopped, frozen like a rabbit in a spotlight. She didn't see me at first until she'd gotten the towel and was turning to go back in. The look she gave me was pretty much like the looks I had gotten in high school when I'd had the audacity to ask the prettiest girl to dance. It was that weird combination that said "You? You must be joking" mixed with "You sad, sad little man!" How did my daughter ever manage to get the upper hand on me? I was the adult, not her. Why did I feel like some kind of 15 year-old snooping geek.
