Preparing for College

This fictitious fantasy took on a life of its own as I penned my valentine's contest entry. I couldn't find a suitable place for a very specific vision I stumbled upon as I wrote that story. I also could not envision this vision of mine fitting naturally in my unfinished story with Lexi. Thus, the story of Emily, a sheltered, socially-awkward girl next door type beginning the transitional journey from high school to college life was born.

Chapter 1 - Em's First "College Party"

After a weekend away at her Aunt and Uncle's house my 18-year-old stepdaughter Emily announces she's home. We wave goodbye to her Uncle Chuck & Aunt Jen and I welcome Em home with a warm hug.

Chuck and Jen have helped out with Emily, having her over regularly since her mother passed 11 years ago. Em's aunt and uncle never had kids but they both travel for work, so taking Em was not an option for them. Em (or Emmy as I sometimes call her) and I have been very close despite not being her father and I raised her as my own rather than moving on and away after her mother died in the accident, as her father was never in the picture at all.

Next month, will go off to college. Other than going to her Aunt and Uncle's house to stay and our annual vacations, Em has never really been away from home for any length of time. She has been a very sheltered child in that she attended an all-girls high school. Her extra-curricular activities kept her busy and out of trouble, with Debate in the fall, Academic Sports League in the winter, and Track in the spring.

Em spent her past two summers taking extra classes so that she had a head start on her college. Between her AP classes and her summer dual-enrollment courses, Em completed an entire semester of college already. While I don't worry about her academically, I worry that she is in for a culture shock, as she has led a sheltered life and is quite shy.

Em was never one to go out and make new friends. In her much younger years, she clung to those she was familiar with. She'd even tremble at the sight of new people in our house. While she no longer trembles at the sight of strangers, she is not social and does not carry herself in such a way that makes her approachable. Despite her social awkwardness, Em is a beautiful girl. She is an attractive, yet somewhat nerdy looking girl next door who definitely is unaware how beautiful she is.

Em unpacks from her trip away while I get dinner situated on the grill. Eating in the living room, talk turns to Em's time with her family. She shares with me that they took a road trip to an amusement park, went shopping a lot, and went swimming in their new in-ground pool.

"If I'd have known that they built a pool, I'd have come with you," I joked.

Em giggled at my "dad comment".

"What all did you get when you went shopping? Did you break their bank this time," I asked, Knowing that Em is not high maintenance and isn't the shopping type.

"Yea right," she says.

"They got me stuff for school, clothes, oh and my new suit. Wanna see it," she asks as she uncharacteristically pulls her shirt off and slides her shorts down just below her hips to reveal a thin blue and white striped bikini that shows off her every curve.

"Looks great, Em," I say as I look away awkwardly and try to keep my tongue in my mouth. Em is a very well-developed young woman. At 5'1" and 110 pounds, a tiny waist and perky b, maybe c cups if my finely calibrated eyes are accurate, Em's bikini leaves very little to the imagination. The bottoms are cut high and accent her heart-shaped ass. Normally, when not in school, Emily typically dresses in baggy, modest fitting clothes that hide her curves.

"You don't like it, do you," she asks?

"No Em, it's not that at all. It's a nice suit. I ummmm... You're not taking that to college, are you?"

"Where am I going to swim? No, it's staying here," Em says as she catches the white shirt I threw at her to put back on.

"Good, as I don't want to go to jail for fighting off all the boys," I say half-joking.

"Yea right, Dad," Em responds as she puts on her shirt.

"Boys aren't into me anyway," she continues.

"Let's keep it that way until after your Masters, as you know my rule," I tease. The long running narrative is that there are no boys until after she gets her master's degree.

"Don't worry, boys are still yucky," Em jokes back. "Besides, it's not like I'd know what to do anyway."

"What do you mean, Em," I ask?

"Duh. You know I've never even kissed a boy. I wouldn't know what to do or how to even do it if a boy tried to kiss me," she explains in a serious tone.

"Sure you would," I assure her, uncertain what to say.

"No, I really wouldn't. Uncle Chuck & Aunt Jen think I should go talk to somebody. A therapist or something but I'm not really comfortable telling a stranger things."

"Wait, what? A therapist? Why do they think you need a therapist?"

"They think that when I go to college, I'm going to be a bookworm and not make any friends and they think that I need to talk to a therapist so I can become comfortable making friends and getting a boyfriend."

"That's a bit different than you've never kissed someone and need a therapist," I add.

"Not really," Em explains. "They think that I only like doing things I know I can do or know how it will turn out."

"I mean, they're right in a way. I don't talk to people because I don't know if they'll talk back or like me or whatever. And I probably don't talk to boys because I'm afraid that I won't know what to do or how to do it if they kiss me."

"I see. Well, it seems like we're talking right now. Are you comfortable talking to me about this stuff right now," I ask?

"I'm comfortable talking to you about everything. I mean, you're like my best friend and all," Em says as I smile.

"Well good, I'm comfortable talking to you too, bestie," I joke as we both laugh.

"No, seriously, I can play therapist if you want. Here, lay down on the couch and tell Dr. Shayne what's on your mind."

Em lays down on the couch and throws her feet over-top me. Instinctively, I give her a foot rub. She confirms she is nervous about going off to school and she talks about worrying she won't be able to find her classes. She goes on worrying about being invited to parties or worse yet not invited to parties, not that she'd know what to do at a party because she's never drank or anything.

"I'm a mess," she laughs.

"No, you're not, Em.

"So as your therapist, what I heard is that you're afraid of the unknown and it sounds like we need to work on taking some of the unknowns and making them known to you. Make sense?"

"No, how do you mean," Em asks?

"Well, you said you've never drank. So, as your therapist, I suggest we drink and pretend we're at a college party so that you at least know what drinking is like. Not that I want you to drink, but I'd rather you experience it here, safely rather than getting brave when you're at school. Does that make sense? Will that help you a bit?"

"Yea, that does," Em says. "Can we do it now?"

"I guess so," I reply as we go to the kitchen.

While one side of me wants to get her drunk to the point she is sick and hungover tomorrow as a deterrent to drinking in school, the more rationale side of me decides to give her a mellow, guided tour.

We start off with beer. Em takes a sip and is not a fan of the taste. I suggest she at least take a few more sips to see if the taste will grow on her, as college parties usually have beer. She's a good sport and finishes almost half, offering the rest to me when my beer is empty.

Next, I pour each of us a rum and coke. Em complains when I don't make hers as strong as mine, so I top her up so that both drinks are the same color.

I also suggest a shot before we do our rum and cokes. I grab four shot glasses, filling two with Jameson and the other two with pickle juice. I explain that the whiskey goes down first and then the pickle juice chases it second, citing that the pickle juice will neutralize the taste. We jokingly toast to therapy and down the hatch the shots and pickle juice goes. Em struggled getting the whiskey down but commented that the pickle juice made it pretty good.

I sense Em is starting to get buzzed, as she is a bit giggly and talking a mile a minute about random things like politics and the immature girls at her old school. She continues motor mouthing as we go back into the kitchen to refill my rum and coke. I note she is not ready for a refill yet, as she is about halfway done.

"Can we do another shot? Like, one that college kids will actually do," Liv asks?

Thinking for a second, I have the perfect solution. I grab two whiskey glasses and two shot glasses, filling the whiskey glasses with Red Bull & the shots glasses with Jägermeister.

After going over instructions, we drop the shot glass into the Red Bull and drink up. We bring our drinks, along with the bottle of chilled Jäger and a couple Red Bulls back to the living room, as Em thinks she may want to do more of those later. I have my doubts, as she is quite tipsy, and I'm happily buzzed.

Em turns the music up, as she decides that the music is probably loud at parties, as she starts talking louder over the music while sipping her rum and coke. Em asks about what kind of drinking games are played at college parties. I explain we used to play flip cup and beer pong at our parties in college and sometimes guys make up drinking games to get girls to take their clothes off, which gets a laugh from the both of us.

I refill our rum and cokes, returning to the living room to see Em pouring another round of Jäger bombs for us. The shots go down and Em decides we are going to dance. I totally goof around dancing obnoxiously while Em pokes fun at me by trying to impersonate my cool dad dance moves. We laugh and dance and drink until I get tangled up in my two left feet.

Em grabs my drink, handing it to me while grabbing her own. She decides that she wants to sit on the stairs and talk, as she saw people do that at a party one time on tv. I use the bathroom and come back, sitting next to Em on the stairs.

"First college party," I ask?

"Sure is," Em replies as she slams the rest of her rum and coke before helping herself to mine.

"Enjoying yourself so far?"

"Yea, it's alright. It's not what I thought it was going to be. My dad told me there'd be a bunch of drunken assholes trying to hit on me, but I've just seen really sweet but kinda goofy guys here," Em says as she hands my drink back to me and hugs my arm.

"Ha, thanks, I think," I say.

"I'm gonna tell you a secret since you seem like a nice guy," Em whispers loudly as she looks up from hugging my arm continuing the impromptu role-play. I lean in to hear her speak.

"I've never kissed a boy, but I think... I think I found one here I might want to kiss," Em whispers.

"Emily," I say in a stern voice snapping out of the role-play. "What? Just who do you think you're going to kiss here?"

I notice her face goes from smiley to serious, so I lighten the mood with a dad comment to soften the blow in case I upset her.

"I mean, I saw a stuffed giraffe upstairs in one of the bedrooms. He's a good-looking guy and I'm sure he'd want to kiss you," I joke causing Em to smile.

"No seriously," Em slurs. "I want

you

to show

me

how to kiss a boy. Plllleeeeaaaasssseeee?"

As open minded as I generally am, Sober Shayne would think this a horrible idea, off limits, and would do nothing of the sort. However, in the context of the moment, slightly tipsy pretending to be a horny frat boy Shayne begins thinking of ways this can be rationalized. I mean, I did tell her she should try drinking and I told her that she should try to make as much known to her as possible so there is less unknowns for her to worry about later, I think to myself as I take a bigger than normal gulp of my drink.

Em grabs the drink from me and finishes it off before "pleasing" me for a second round.

"Okay, here's the deal," I say. Right here, one time only in the interest of teaching you. Deal?"

"Deal," Em squeaks holding her pinky out to seal the deal.

Em sits on the stairs, legs crossed shaking her foot with her hands folded around her knee.

"You sure you want this, Em" I ask. She smiles and nods.

Taking a deep breath, I reach over with my left hand placing it over her folded hands and pulling her towards me. I run my hand up her arm, onto her shoulder, and to her head. I turn her head and brush her long blonde-streaked brown hair to the side.

"Just relax and follow my lead," I tell Em as I move closer to her.

My face moves closer to hers, and our lips make first contact with me opening my mouth and tenderly kissing along her top lip. I put my hand on her face and kiss her top lip again. She responds by kissing back. I do it a few more times, this time adding a little tongue, letting each little kiss linger a bit. I watch as Em's eyes close.

I kiss Em a little deeper, still focusing on her top lip but letting my tongue take a bit more liberty gradually making its way into her mouth before retreating back into mine. Em brings her hand to my wrist as I gently rub her face while we kiss.

Her grip tightens slightly as I pull her closer into me while turning my head to deepen the kiss a little further. Em's mouth instinctively opens as we adjust to a full open mouth kiss.

Our tongues begin to dance hypnotically with one another as I guide us down, so we are laying on the stairs. Em lets go of my wrist and wraps her arm around me, hugging me in and pushing forward into the deep kiss. I match and pull her into me, fully embracing as our kiss passionately deepens and she lets out a sexy little sigh while digging her fingers into my shoulders.

My hand begins wandering and our breathing get heavier as we get lost deeper and deeper into our erotic kiss. My hand wanders down to her lower back. Em moans as my hand makes contact with and rubs the skin underneath her shirt on the small of her back. My hand ventures upward as I run my hand up and down her bare arching back. My strong hand alternates between a sensual fingertip touch and a massaging rub up her back and slides underneath the string of her bikini top. Lost in the drunken heat of the moment, I pull the string, untying her top as we press into one another.

Em pulls back, pushing me away suddenly, looking around frantically with a pale face and scared look in her eyes.

"Oh God, oh God" Em says, shifting around.

"Emmy, I'm sorry," I quickly reply, worried that this drunken charade went entirely too far.

Em continues shifting around, flailing her arms in a sheer panic.

"Blah! Oh, God," Em hurls as she pukes down the wooden stairs.

Conflicted on what exactly I should do, I grab her hair as she leans forward to expel liquid chunks reeking of Red Bull & alcohol onto the stairs below.

Once her vomiting subsides, I help Em up the stairs into the bathroom. Convinced she is alright on her own, I head downstairs to clean up her puke. I scoop her vomit into the garbage while trying not to gag myself. I grab the mop and soon enough the evidence of her puking is gone.

I decide to leave the rest of the mess in the living room and kitchen for later and ascend the stairs to check on Em. Up the stairs and into the bathroom I go. While the bathroom light is on, she's not here. I turn the bathroom light off, head down the hall, and peak into her room. Not there either. I look in my room to find Em sprawled out atop my bed and half wrapped in my comforter. I move the trash can from my room next to the bed in case it is "needed" and return downstairs to clean up.

After quickly straightening up, I hit the bathroom to get ready for bed myself after checking on Em, who remains soundly passed out on my bed. Convinced she is okay; I get myself ready for bed while pondering where I am going to sleep. Sleeping in her room is not an option, as I'm a bit tall for her small bed. I probably should not sleep downstairs on the couch, as Em might need me if she is sick again. It is definitely not appropriate for me to sleep in my own bed with her. I decide to camp out on the floor next to my bed.

Grabbing blankets from the storage closet, I create a makeshift bed on the floor. I toss and turn trying to get comfortable, restlessly shifting positions, rearranging where I'm set up, trying to shield myself from the hallway light providing slight illumination into the room in case Em needs to figure out where she ended up.

Convinced I'm going to have a sleepless night, my mind begins to wander replaying the night's events. I ponder whether it was the right move to let her try drinking. Then again, I think about how things would have gone if she tried it on her own and away from home. Would she have drank more? Would someone have taken advantage of her drunken state? I begin to feel like a scumbag as I reflect on our kiss.

I rationalize that it started for right reason, but I could kick myself for letting it get carried away. Just how far would things have gone, I wonder to myself, replaying the kissing, the slight petting, the untying of her bikini top as I feel my dick inappropriately stiffen.

Snapping out of it, I sit up to check on Em. She lays atop the bed, 'baby snoring' away with her head tilted sideways towards me laying in the "star position" atop the bed semi-draped in my comforter with her hand dangling off the bed at the wrist while her leg on the same side hangs off the bed from her bent knee.

Ensuring she stays warm, I put one of my blankets on her, tucking her in and trying to cover as much of her as possible. Gently, I kiss her on the forehead. As I lean in to plant the gentle peck upon her head, my dick inadvertently grazes Em's outstretched hand, electrifying my cock before I lay back down on the floor.

On the floor, eyes wide open, raging hard-on, my mind spirals with inappropriate thoughts of my stepdaughter. My eyes turn to her foot, dangling off the bed as she sleeps her drunkenness away. My eyes trace over her perfect, deep arch, and her soft, perfectly smooth-looking heel. I look at each of her tiny toes that look freshly painted with pink nail polish as I unconsciously reach down and begin stroking myself underneath my blanket.

I've given Emmy tons of foot massages before and never once have I thought of them in a sexy or sexual way. Yet now, my mind fixates on the thought of worshiping her foot with my mouth and tongue. I imagine the incredible feeling of rubbing my throbbing cock along the top of her foot. I fantasize sliding my cock between her arches, shooting my warm, naughty Daddy jizz atop her shins and tight calves.

My heart thumps as I pump my penis frantically with my right hand while pondering reaching out with my left hand. Between the heat of my impromptu fantasy and my judgement inhibited by the alcohol, I rationalize there's nothing wrong with giving her foot a little rub with my hand. Besides, it is a far cry from hopping into the sack with her right now, taking her while unconscious, I rationalize. Plus, I've touched her feet plenty of times, so there's no harm in one simple touch, is there?

I roll onto my side so that the blankets aren't flailing up and down from me beating my meat, as it would be embarrassing to be caught jacking off. I quickly realize that if I'm going to touch her foot, I'm either going to have to quit jerking myself or I'm going to have to lay on my back and risk getting caught. I shift once again so that I am laying up against the wooden frame of the bed on my back with my head directly underneath Em's dangling, sexy little foot.

My hand returns to my cock, stroking slowly so that I can savor the moment. I stare at her pretty, arched foot dangling slightly above me as I work my stiff rod up and down with my hand. Worried that the rustling under the blanket is making too much noise, I draw my knees, bending them upward. In doing so, my left knee bumps the top of Em's hand. I quickly draw my knee back as I work my dick. Getting caught in the heat of battle, I bravely slide my knee back up resting it against Em's hand as I pump away on my dick.