This Ain't Lolita

Part One

This is not a nice story.

This is a story about me and my father, and it's about good decisions as well as bad ones. Jesus fucking Christ, I don't know why I'm telling it at all. It's not one of those perfect little fairytales where my Daddy ends up taking care of me forever and somehow we end up the perfect sick and twisted little couple. I mean come on. That's just fucked up.

Don't get me wrong. It is the story of how I got him to fuck me, how I fucked his friend, and how I... Okay I may make you wait for the next part, but you get the idea. So, if this sort of things grosses you out or pisses you off then you should probably stop reading because it's not the prettiest story in the world. Sometimes it's romantic and sometimes it's just hot and sweaty, but it's never pretty, because let's face it, fucking isn't pretty. It's not like a flower or a stupid gay fucking rainbow. It's bodies slapping together, making funky ass smells and most often leaving a big mess somewhere.

So deal with it.

Unlike your little fantasy it didn't happen because I accidentally saw Daddy walking from the shower to his room and his cock looked so good I just had to gobble it all up. He didn't rub sunscreen on my back as I lay half naked by the pool, and he didn't walk in on me with two fingers up my cunt as I watched porn on his computer.

I think there are probably three things that made it happen. The first is that one of his friends flirted with me at a party at our house. It wasn't a big deal-I'm kinda used to old dudes creeping on me-but right in the middle of our stupid conversation I saw dad look over at me and he knew. He knew exactly what was going on and he didn't do a fucking thing about it. He didn't get mad, he didn't come over and stop it, and he didn't even bother to pretend he hadn't seen it. He just smiled at me. What the fuck?

The second thing that happened is I caught him crying one night. I know it's stupid, but I walked in on him in the living room and he was crying like a fucking baby. He tried to stand up when I walked in, but I wrapped my arms around him and didn't even ask what was wrong. I just held him like he had held me so many times. It felt normal. It felt natural, and it felt exactly like the right thing to do. He didn't try to kiss me or grope me and I didn't get all turned on by holding him, but it was the first time in my whole life that I felt like I was taking care of him and it felt good. I was being useful and that was a new thing.

The third thing is really stupid. I was at a party and I was totally fucking wasted. Like I was out of my mind gone, and for some reason it felt like a good idea to make out on the couch with some douchebag from school. He was pretty gone too and we kissed and groped and then without really thinking about it I started sucking his cock. It wasn't a big deal. I like sucking cock. I'm not a big whore or anything, but it wasn't the first time and it sure as hell wasn't the last. So, anyway, I'm sucking his cock and he's all drunk and shit, but in the middle of it all he pushes my hair out of my eyes all gentle like and looks me right in eyes.

"Babygirl, that feels so fucking good," he mumbled.

See? I told you it was stupid. Some drunken moron called me Babygirl while I'm blowing him at a party and that was it. There's only one person in the whole world who calls me that and you can bet it's not Chad the goddamn lacrosse king or whatever he plays. I almost stopped when he said it because he looked so stupid and blissed out, but when I closed my eyes it wasn't him any more. I heard the name over and over again in my head and I sucked his cock like a pro. I wrapped my fingers around the base and took his head between my lips before taking him all the way down my throat. I thought he was going to pass out, but he just kept moaning and I kept on sucking. I never wanted to make anyone come that hard in my whole life, and Christ did he come. I thought I was going to choke there was so much, but even then I didn't stop. I swallowed it, and licked it off him, and it wasn't until he pulled me off his dick that I finally let myself breathe.

I actually got up and left two seconds later. Chad was lying there like a dumbass with his dick still out, but I had to go. I wasn't too far from home, so I left my car there (I'm not completely stupid) and stumbled out the door. It was kinda nice out, and I looked up at the stars as I walked the few blocks to my house as I tried to figure out what the hell had just happened. The only thing I knew for sure was that somewhere in the middle I stopped thinking about Chad and started thinking about Daddy.

Part Two

I was freaked out. I had a dream that night that was totally weird, where my dad was somehow at school teaching us about history. Everyone was laughing at me, and I knew I had done something stupid but I wasn't sure what it was. Even he started laughing at me and I woke up crying in the middle of the night.

I finally managed to go back to sleep, and in the morning I woke up like a cat in heat. I don't know if I had another dream or what, but when I woke up I was horny as fuck and there was no way I was getting out of bed without making myself come. I could still taste a bit of Chad in my mouth, despite brushing my teeth, and when I rubbed my pussy I was wetter than ever.

Normally I rub my clit with one hand and finger myself with two fingers with the other. It's pretty straightforward, and it works. I can make myself come that way pretty damn quick and that morning was no exception. I thought about the night before, and even about my fucked up dream, and I felt guilty, stupid, and excited all at the same time. I remembered him calling me Babygirl right in the middle and in my mind I looked up and called him Daddy.

And that was it.

I started coming all over the place like the biggest slut in the world. I had to bite my arm so I wouldn't wake up the house and I must have convulsed on the bed for like fifteen minutes. When I finally stopped I could hardly breath and my sheets were a mess. My fingers were tired, my pussy was tender, and somehow I had managed to bite my lip just enough to make it bleed.

Fuck, I thought as I got up and grabbed a tissue. I put it in my mouth and watched it turn red as I held it there for a while looking at myself in the mirror. I was totally grossed out by myself in every way, but someone I didn't think there was any going back. I thought about his friend creeping on me and remember how he looked over and just smiled. I thought about holding him as he cried against my chest, and I thought about the night before. It was a fucked up combination of love, lust, and confusion and once the blood stopped I crawled back into bed. I pulled the sheet up over my shoulders, my knees up to my chest, and I closed my eyes. I must have slept for another four hours before I finally got out of bed at two in the afternoon.

I didn't spend the day trying figure out how to get my dad to fuck me. Honestly it was still fucking with my head, and unlike some people, I know the difference between fantasy and reality. I know that just because I like it a little rough sometimes doesn't mean I actually want some asshole to rape me. Just because I like to tease my teachers doesn't mean I wouldn't freak out if they took the bait, and just because I had one little fantasy about Daddy didn't mean I was going to do anything about it.

None of that means breakfast wasn't odd.

"How's my Babygirl?" he asked just as I took a sip of orange juice. I almost spit it out all over the table, but I managed to hold it in and just smile.

"Tired. Good. You know."

"You are the most expressive daughter a man could ever want. Maybe you should be a speechwriter. Have you thought about that?"

"And maybe you should be a sarcasm instructor." It was a lame comeback, but I was out of it. Remember, it was a long weird night.

"I've thought about it," he replied, "but you kids don't seem to need much help. It's like you were raised on sarcasm. Sarcasm, Pokeman, and internet porn. I'm so glad I didn't grow up when you did."

"I'm pretty sure you never grew up. Besides, I never liked pokeman."

"Touche," he replied before putting an omelet down in front of me.

"What the fuck is this?"

"Again, with the articulating. My Babygirl really does have a way with words. It's an omelet my dear. It's an omelet with boursin, chives, and fresh garlic. A little sea salt and a touch of hot sauce. Eat up!"

Whatever else you might say about my dad he can cook. I don't know what half the shit is most of the time, but it's always good. Even his stinky cheese omelets are usually amazing, and I ate every last bit of it while he sat there drinking coffee and occasionally looking at the paper.

"Who reads papers anymore?" I asked with my mouth only half full.

"Well, I would normally be reading it on my i-Pad, but I seem to remember that some young lady took it to Starbucks and decided it would look better covered in caramel macchiato."

After three months he still brought that shit up. It was a mistake, and he wasn't even all that angry at the time, but he teased me about it every chance he got. Everyone always tells me how smart he is, and how lucky I am to have such a cool dad, but you know what? I don't like feeling stupid all the fucking time and sometimes he drives me crazy.

I pulled my knees up to my chest with my feet on the chair and took another bite. He just smiled and kept reading, but every once in a he'd look over at me out of the corner of his eye. I kept thinking he was trying to come up with another joke to piss me off, until I looked down into my lap. I was just wearing a pair of boxer shorts-I lost the panties that morning-and they were bunched up around my hips. There weren't super tight, which meant that if you looked the right way, there was my little puss just peaking out.

I was about to move, but fuck it, I was comfortable. Besides, I was suddenly incredibly curious to see if that was what he was looking at. I pretended to focus on my eggs, and I watched him notice me. I realized he wasn't actually reading the paper at all, and sure enough whenever he stole a glance, his eyes went right there. If he was going to tease me, then there was no reason I couldn't do the same thing. Absentmindedly I opened my knees just a bit before knocking them together. I sat there sipping my juice and fidgeting in my chair until he looked about as uncomfortable as he was going to get.

I stood up, grabbed my plate and walked over towards to the dishwasher to put them away. Just before I walked out of the kitchen I leaned down and kissed him right on the lips.

"Thank you for breakfast, Daddy," I whispered. I turned and was back upstairs in my room before he could say a thing.

Part 3

You know what I did when I got back to my room, and don't fucking judge me. I still had no idea what I was feeling and what was going on, but I knew I needed to get off again. I crawled under the light blanket, slipped off the boxers and moved my hands down between my legs. All it took to make me come was thinking about his eyes looking right at me. All it took was the realization that my Daddy had been looking at my cunt, and no matter how hard he had tried, he couldn't help himself.

I showered pretty quickly when I was done and threw on a light cotton dress. It was hot as balls outside, and I didn't want to wear more than I had to. Without thinking about where I was going I yelled that I was going out and I'd be back later. He yelled something back that probably meant sure, have fun, but I couldn't hear him at all. Twenty minutes later I was standing in front of my car on the street I left it at the night before wondering where the hell I had left my keys.

I finally walked up to the door of the house and pushed it open. The place was still a mess from the party and people were either wandering around looking hungover, or still passed out on the couches and floor. My keys were on the table next to the couch, and good old Chad was still lying there. Thankfully his dick was back in his pants, but otherwise he didn't look much different.

"Hey Jessica," he said grabbing my arm. "That was awesome last night. When you gonna let me fuck you?"

"Fuck off Chad," I said shaking free. He was an okay guy, but that was a pathetic line. I grabbed my keys and headed for the door.

"Babygirl, wait!" I heard him say. I stopped in my tracks and looked at him. He was tall and skinny and actually pretty good-looking. He worked out and got a decent hair cut, and for a second I wanted to do it. I wanted to drag him upstairs and let him fuck my brains out as long as he kept calling me that name. I wanted to keep my eyes closed and pretend he was someone else, and it was actually hard to resist for a minute.

"Come on, I want to eat your little pussy," he pleaded, and that was it. He was a fucking kid and luckily for me he knew just how to break the mood.

I walked out the door without saying a word and got into my car. I turned the keys, put it in drive and just started moving. I didn't know where I was going or why, but some part of me was terrified to go home because I wasn't sure what I would do. I'm fucking crazy, I kept telling myself over and over again, and it was true. The longer I drove, the crazier I felt, and with each passing minute I realized that there was no way out. As much as I tried to imagine it not happening I couldn't get around it. No matter how hard I tried, there was no way I wasn't going to tease him and play with him until he either grounded me for life or fucked the shit out of me.

"Fuck!" I screamed as I kept driving.

Part 4

There's a ton of typos in this story. Fucking deal with it. Nabokov had a copy editor and I guarantee you he was worth every dime. If you're a grammar Nazzi then stick to the classics. You big perv.

Part 5

I do in fact have a mom. She lives across town and I spend a few weeks with each of them taking turns. I don't really want to talk about mom though, and so I'm not going to. The only reason I bring her up at all is so you understand I had a time limit. In a week I was going back to her house and while it wasn't that far away, I wanted to do something before then. There was no way I was going to wait another three weeks before anything happened, because if I did I was going to either be the most sexually frustrated girl in the entire world or I was going to be the first woman to explode from lack of sex.

When I finally got home and disappeared back into my room I made a list. I didn't write it down, because that would have been retarded, but I made a list in my head and I went over it ten times.

I could cry and make him come up and comfort me. In the middle of it all I'd wrap my arms around him and kiss his cheek. Then I'd kiss his mouth, and then I'd tell him he had to fuck me to make it all better.

Yeah, 'cause that would work.

My second choice was the big slutty one. I could prance around the house in my underwear, let him overhear me talking to a girlfriend on the phone about how I love sucking cock, and offer to rub his shoulders when he gets home from work. I'd rub up against him, tell him to relax, and then magically he'd just let me take his cock out and put it in my mouth. Right. It would be just like that.

The rest of the list included: watching a dirty movie together, having one of my friends slip up and tell him I wanted him, asking him to rub my thighs because they were sore from running, climbing into bed with him in the middle of the night totally naked, and the best of all was the wonderful idea of just getting in the shower with him and asking him to wash my tits.

The list sucked.

Just because he looked at me a few times over breakfast didn't mean he was ready to bend me over the kitchen table. He was smart and honest, and he was so nice to everyone that I almost felt guilty. I was going to have to be smart as well, and I didn't like that idea at all.

Luckily for me, he had two friends coming over that afternoon. Most dads would sit around with their buddies watching baseball or cooking huge chunks of meat on the grill and talking about bitches. While he wasn't lame enough to have a model train set, he was weird enough that he played bocce ball. His friends came over on the weekend and they all hung out in the backyard drinking micro-brewed beer and rolling balls around on the grass trying to hit other balls.

"Aren't you going out tonight?" Daddy asked as I sat down on a lawn chair to watch them play with their balls.

"If you don't want me hanging around, I'm happy to go out. I think there's a party somewhere with some drunk frat boys I could be making out with."

"Just watch your drink and make him wear a condom," he said before rolling his ball down the lawn.

"You guys have the weirdest relationship," Mike said. He was the friend who had flirted with me that night a few weeks back, and even now he looked over at me more than once.

"When you have a daughter as smart as mine, it feels silly to talk to her like a kid. Right Babygirl?"

"Yes Daddy-poo. We too big now for baby talk. We smart daddy and daughter. We super smart."

"That's my girl," he said looking over at me with a smile. Why did he have to do that? His smile was fucking perfect and the fact is he didn't treat me like a little kid. He let me do what I liked and he actually trusted me. Sometimes a bit too much.

"Yeah, how come you aren't going out? When I was your age, I was..."

My dad interrupted Paul with a cough before he could finish his sentence. Paul was definitely the geekiest of the group, but he was an okay looking dude for an old man. He was always nice to me, but he was nervous all the time and never talked to me for more than a few minutes.

"I don't feel like going anywhere. I just want to sit here with my book and some of those fancy beers you kids are drinking. I'm so over high school parties."

"Oh yes, now you're a big college girl. Or will be in August, right?"

Mike liked to call me a big girl whenever he got the chance and it was actually a bit creepy. He sounded like Mr. Rogers on crack and it always made me clench my legs together just a bit. He wasn't gross, or unpleasant, but I didn't want it to go any further than flirting. At least most of the time. I just nodded.

"You can have a beer if you get me one too," dad said. I was about to say something but decided to keep my mouth shut. I ran into the house, pulled two beers out of his beer fridge, and went back out. Mike opened them with the opener he had hanging on his key chain, and I sat back down to my book with a cold bottle of some weird IPA from the East Coast. The book was good and the beer was delicious. After half the bottle I had a little buzz going on, and I wondered if there might be something to the fancy crap that we were missing with our Coronas.

Part Six

"Paul, can you explain this to me?"

He walked over to my lawn chair and I opened my legs wide enough for him to sit down. I flattened my dress, but I saw the look in his eye when I leaned over towards him. I held up the book and pointed to the sentence I wanted help with.

"It's an anthropology term. It's like, how well connected you are in an intellectual sense. Cultural Capital is just a way of saying you know how to get what you want in a particular culture. You understand the rules and you know how to navigate its social systems."

I was still leaning over his lap and my dress was loose around my shoulder. I had placed the book square onto his lap but never moved my hands back, which meant I was touching both thighs as he spoke. My face was right next to his and I could tell he was looking down my shirt as much as he tried not to.

"Can we have out player back?" my dad called out from the lawn. I closed the book and reached an arm around Paul before he got up.