"I don't have to do what you tell me, Frank!" Sally got up from the couch where her lithe form had been sprawled in front of VH1. She gave Frank the finger and pounded up the stairs. The curtains blew and the house shook when her bedroom door slammed.
Frank turned to the stack of dishes and swore. She was right, though. Sally's mother pretty much vetoed any attempt Frank made to enforce a reasonable discipline on his step-daughter, and over twelve years the sweet little girl had become an eighteen year old monster viewing any effort to make her pull her own weight around the house as a deadly insult. Reason had failed and force was out of the question.
Frank ripped the dishwasher open, his frustration rushing out like a broken verbal sewer main. "The little fucking bitch gets her own way all the time. No one fuckin' listens to me. The little cunt's going to get in trouble, she is. Does her mother listen to me when I pointed to the bitch's computer IM recordings, where she was crying that she needed more practice giving blowobs? Oh, no, not much she doesn't. Does the girl take warning from us about that geek that was hanging around her? No. He pops her cherry and takes off, just like I warned her. That was three years ago. Damn lucky the bitch didn't get pregnant. Damn! I wouldn't mind a piece of that, Sally is one fine little cunt. That was my cherry, the bastard! No. No. Never mind that. She's got to learn to pick up after herself. I'm damned sick of playing housemaid in my time off. What do I get out of it? Heartburn and insults. Twelve years of this, and the little bitch still hates me. I bet she's tasty, too. Dammit, stop that."
Frank slammed the dishwasher closed, and savagely ripped the knob to the start position. "Fuck that. That little stuck up bitch owes me. She ain't my kid. I'm gonna fuck her. She's old enough." Frank was alone in the house, except for Sally, and he knew she couldn't hear him over the music coming down through the ceiling from her room. Thumps on the floor indicated Sally was practicing her dance moves.
Frank began pacing on the floor below his dancing step-daughter. He briefly wished for a glass ceiling. He muttered to himself, "Okay. Let's admit it. You have the hots for that bitchy cunt. You always have. She's eighteen now, but you can't just knock on her door and rape her. Hmmm..can I? No, no, too risky, it's not worth it. What can I do?...can't date her and make moves on her, she'd laugh hysterically. Nancy would kill me, too."
Nancy was his wife, Sally's mother. She was an Emergency Medical Technician, and her shift wasn't over until midnight that night. Nancy had bulked up over the years, and the physical relationship between husband and wife had died early. He'd be damned if he'd beg his woman for sex.
Frank had't been laid in nearly a year, and that was an unsatisfying experience with a married woman terrified of getting caught. It's hard to enjoy your spurting orgasm when the woman you're fucking is suddenly yelling "No! No! Don't come in me! I can't get pregnant, my husband had a vasectomy." Stupid bitch couldn't have brought that up a little sooner, right? He'd wiped his dick in her hair and walked out in disgust.
The memories of the that frantic time faded. Frank, finally relaxed from his pacing, banged on the ceiling with a broom handle to get Sally to turn the music down. He pulled a Foster's from the fridge and sat down in front of the TV. Surfing idly, he stopped at an old Columbo episode. The killer had used subliminal messages in film to motivate his victim. "That's it!" Frank cried. He flicked the TV off and thought quietly. What if he used subliminal messages to get Sally to focus on him as her primary sexual attractor? He jumped on the computer and searched the Internet. His plans were ready in a few hours. He didn't wake up when his wife climbed into bed.
The next day was a Saturday. Nancy had to go in at noon for training, and Sally had dance practice the whole afternoon. Frank headed for the Home Depot and Radio Shack in the morning, and dropped Sally off at her school with a smile and pleasant words. Frank would never be unpleasant with Sally again, oh no.
Dumping his packages on the table, Frank opened Sally's bedroom door with a spare key. She didn't know about that key, he was sure. He went over to her computer and examined the speakers that were over her headboard. Nah, better hide the new speakers he'd bought, it was simpler, easier, and less likely to get screwed up. He mounted the new ones under the headboard, relieved to find gigantic dust bunnies. She'll never look down here.
Finding an obscure spot, he drilled a hole and ran the wire for the speakers down into the room below. He connected them to his computer, installing the sound card he'd never had a use for before. Going back upstairs, he mounted the motion detector on her bedframe. This would to disconnect the speakers if motion in the bed was detected. Can't have Sally hearing his loving messages, not when she was awake.
Frank recorded a sample file, "Jack and Jill went up the hill, to fuck and to frolic. Jack came in her, and left for more, while Jill screamed mother fucker". He had the computer play it on a loop into the speakers upstairs. He carefully adjusted the volume to it's barest audibility.
He was done here, and with a minimum of disturbance, too. What the fuck, he thought, let's look around. Sally keeps a journal, how about that? He sat down and began to read. His eyes opened wider. This might be easier than it seemed. Sally hated her mother, and viewed her as the obstacle in the house. She actually liked Frank, and felt sorry sometimes for the way she behaved. "Damn cunt couldn't just say so to me?" Frank muttered. "No, of course she wouldn't. What am I saying? I'm her step-father."
Wow, he thought, this journal was interesting. She'd had a couple of bad experiences with boys who barely knew how to hold it, let alone where to put it, and she'd become reluctant to experiment with them. But then again, half her "dance practices" were excuses to hang out with her girlfriends. Turns out Martha and Kelly weren't even in dance class. Sally had been experimenting with lesbian affairs with her two friends. She liked kissing girls, she admitted. She liked their softness and their pleasant smells. "Can't argue with that," Frank said aloud.
Martha, from the description, had small breasts that she padded with tissue, but her athletic ass was hard and her cunt was a platinum blond. Frank had a deep appreciation that girl's ass himself. He was disappointed to learn her full breast was Charmin. He wondered what Mr. Whipple would say about that.
Kelly had large breasts, but she had veins and stretch marks running over their surface. Pity, Frank thought. No photos here, though. Sally's journal reported that Kelly had rings in her nipples and her clit. She shaved her pussy bald. She was a little chubby, but, Frank remembered, but a little cushion was nice. Seems that Sally liked having her nipples pinched hard while her clit was tongued. Sally hadn't tried anal sex in any form, and she expressed curiosity about boys and wondered why she wasn't successful with them.
This information was priceless. Frank snapped the book closed and replaced it carefully. He was relieved tha this search, and her journal, didn't find any drugs. Sex was healthy and pleasant, he thought. It would be a shame if she got mixed up in drugs.
He went downstairs and recorded a new file. "Frank Frank Frank is sexy sexy fuck frank fuck frank fuck frank my pussy is sooo hot with frank frank frank knows franks knows frank will fuck me fuck me I want frank want frank suck frank suck frank lick me frank lick me frank my nipples are soo hard soo hard rub my nipples rub them hard nipples my pussy is hot pussy hot fuck me fuck me frank frank frank will make me feel good I'm happy with frank happy happy frank makes me feel good good good yummm frank is sexy sexy soo sexy hot hot hot my cunt is hot I have to fuck frank fuck frank fuck frank suck frank frank frank," in a very low monotone. He had the computer play it on a loop into the speakers upstairs. He carefully adjusted the volume to it's barest audibility.
He showered, and dressed carefully and neatly. No more lounging about in old sweats and tee shirts. He threw a good dinner in the oven for the two of them, and went to pick Sally up at Martha's. He got a hardon thinking about what she'd probably been doing, but he told it to behave. He took her to rent a movie on the way back, and they ate and watched it together. She actually could be pleasant when they tried to be friendly, he found out. Sally headed up to take a shower after the movie. Frank's eyes watched her fine eighteen year old ass ascend the stairs. "Hey," he called out when she was halfway up. She turned and bent over to peer down the stairs, giving Frank a fine if distant view of young cleavage. "I had fun tonight. Let's try to be nice to each other, okay?"
"Me too, Frank. I'll try." Sally vanished into the upstairs. Frank watched some television for a while, then set the computer to run his program and went to bed.
This lasted for weeks. Frank punctiliously followed the routine he had established, unfailing polite and treating Sally as a young adult, expressing care, ensuring his appearance was always the best possible. Sally's attitude towards him changed noticeably. Frank secretly reviewed her journal weekly. About three weeks into the program, Frank was excited to discover that Sally was writing her fantasies of having sex with him down in the book. She dreamed of his big cock (it wasn't "big", but she didn't know this), how she would suck it and how she would love to feel it inside her. But she couldn't. Frank was her step-dad. She just couldn't do that and oh why was she having fantasies about an old man anyway. OLD MAN?
