Synopsis: Slutty daughter likes to tease her father, and eventually wants to have kids with him.
This story has a long build-up. I should add that I'm not a native speaker.
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"Hey Dad," I chirped happily, opening the door for him when he came home from work. I took off his coat, and leaning onto his arms I kissed him on his lips, and then hung his coat.
"Baby..." he mumbled tentatively, taking off his shoes. "We have to talk."
I already figured as much as soon as I had seen his dejected face, but I didn't show any of it and instead just nodded in enthusiasm.
"You can't kiss me on my lips," he heaved, clearly relieved he'd said it.
"Why not, Dad?" I had started doing that a few days ago at my friend's insistence, and the whining had already begun.
"Because I'm your Dad!" he stated matter of factly.
"That's not a legitimate reason," I countered.
"Girls your age don't kiss their father on their mouth, and you know it. It's inappropriate."
"Ha!" I laughed at his face, "it's the twenty-first century, hello? Move with the times, old man."
"That has nothing to do with it, Amelia."
"Melissa kisses her dad."
"Your friend Melissa?"
I nodded.
"No way," he laughed mockingly, "I know her dad. He doesn't kiss his daughter."
I could tell by his inquiring look he was curious to hear what I had to say.
"He does. When I go to her place she kisses her dad as well, and even sits on his lap."
"Yes, about that..." he said, clearing his throat. "You can't do that either. I can see right up your mini-skirts and see your panties. It's inappropriate. Last night was nice and all, but if you want to watch my violent movies along with me you can't be sitting on my lap from now on, understood?"
"I guess we can't all have fun dads like Melissa," I said, shrugging my shoulders.
"Baby, don't say that!" he cried.
"You want to hear what I have to say?"
"Sure," he replied as his eyes grew big and his chest heaved.
"I think you wished you had a son instead of me."
"That..." he said, pausing as he raised his finger, "is a horrible thing to accuse me of! I have never wished for a son because I have always been happy with you!"
"You have a funny way of showing it, you realize that, right? You come home from work, and then you're like 'hey', and then you take a shower, read the newspaper, then Mom's back from work and prepares dinner and we're having dinner and then you plop down on the couch to watch your... movies... and then you mumble a 'good night' and the next day we repeat--"
"What do you expect from me?" he yelled, "that I go out of my roof whenever I see my daughter again?"
I cast my eyes down, feeling the anger rise in my veins.
"I'm sorry, I didn't mean it like that," he apologized. "I'm just tired from work when I come home, that's all."
"What about tomorrow until Friday, when you work from home?"
"What about it?"
"Nevermind," I said in anger, not interested in the conversation anymore. It was no use anyway. I tried to walk away but Dad grabbed me by my arm.
"Will you at least tell me what's going on in your mind?"
"Okay," I sighed angrily, "remember when you used to tickle me on the couch and kiss me all the time, and how we used to cuddle on the couch? And how you used to laugh when I'd steal the biggest meat piece you had on your plate? How you... used to tuck me in."
"You were little," he laughed in a rather indulgent way.
"Remember when I came home from school on my nineteenth birthday and you were there in the living room, waiting for me to come home?"
"Yes."
I could tell he remembered by the playful twinkle in his eyes.
"Daddy, I didn't see you hiding behind that huge wrapped-up gift you had standing in the middle of the room. And when I turned around to see if anyone was home, you grabbed me from behind, and I screamed out in fear."
"Yes, that was funny," he laughed wholeheartedly.
"For a moment I thought I was about to get raped, but then I saw it was you."
"Okay..."
"Anyway, what I didn't tell you is that I was bullied at school that day. If it weren't for you, I think I would've gone to my room to cry my eyes out."
"I never realized... I... are you still getting bullied at school. I mean... at your age... girls do that?"
"Grown-ups do it too, they're just better at it."
"I'm so sorry, sweetheart," he sighed, petting my back.
"Uh, so..." I stammered, "Uhm, then you were there, and helped me open that huge present. And then you kissed me and hugged me," I whispered, and paused. "You told me you loved me. I still think about it when I use that treadmill."
"Well..." he mumbled, clearing his throat again, "I still love you just as much. I hugged you and kissed you because it was your birthday!" He smiled broadly as he stared into my eyes.
"Well, maybe I need it more than only one day a year, Dad. Do you know how much it hurts to see Mom and you giggle on the couch? To see you approach her every single day from behind when she's busy in the kitchen, and start whispering in her ear. Or when you... when... when you give your mattress a workout every fucking night, while my room is next to yours, and even my bed practically is, only separated by a thin wall. I can hear giggling before you guys start fucking and then I wonder what you are doing to her. And then I can hear you grunting atop her. It's like I'm not even there. Like I'm invisible to you, day and night!"
"So what are you saying? You want me to start fucking you as well?" Dad chuckled, thinking he was funny.
"Of course not, you're such a jerk!" I glared at him angrily. "I want you to show me that you love me. When I'm over at Melissa's, I realize how fucked up our relationship is. It's like you're my awkward stepdad or something."
"Are you sure you're not exaggerating at least a little?" he smiled warmly.
"No. But the fact you don't realize it makes me think maybe this conversation had better not happen. It's not like you're going to change, anyway. And you can let go of my arm now, it's nearly dead."
Startled he let go of my arm, chuckling lightly.
"You think this is a laughing matter?" I asked agitated. "Do you even realize how difficult it has been for me?"
"I--I don't know what to say to you," he stammered, nervously laying his hand on his neck. "You make me out to be one of the worst dads ever."
"You're... aloof," I huffed. "You don't give me attention. I've thought about it, you know, up in my room? I thought- hey, maybe he's just autistic - and forgave you. But then I went downstairs and saw how you playfully teased Mom and how she giggled and y--"
"Okay, okay," he moaned, "enough about Mom, already. What would you like to change?"
I smiled up at him. "I'd like it if things wouldn't be so awkward between us. If I didn't have to sit three feet apart from you on the couch worrying you'll become uncomfortable and think it's inappropriate if I sit any closer to you."
"All right, I can do that."
"I sit closer to my teachers when they're tutoring me after school."
"You're behind i--."
"Yes, I think it reflects on my concentration."
This seemed to make him realize I wasn't just begging for misplaced attention.
"I'm so sorry, sweetie, I didn't know..."
"What do you know?!" I asked rhetorically, defying him by putting my hands on my hips.
"Okay, I get it. We'll watch a movie Friday and cuddle a little, okay baby?" he asked, as he smiled wanly at me, as if it would somehow make everything okay.
"No. I want it to be more than that."
"Like what?" he asked me, becoming a little jumpy.
"We'll see what happens, and where your boundaries are. But if it was up to me, I'd like to develop a loving relationship where we mutually respect and love each other. One in which you'll give me a welcome feeling when I come home by kissing me, asking me about my day, and taking off my coat like I take off yours, and give me the feeling I'm not a burden anymore. Maybe plan something nice for the weekend for just the two of us."
He stared at the floor, his face flushed.
"Well, what do you think about that?" I demanded to know.
"Ah. I don't know, Am, I'd have to think about it. The relationship you just described seems more like a couple's than a father-daughter's. I mean me kissing your mouth?"
"It's just your lips, Daddy. A kiss. It's not like I'm asking you to put your cock in my mouth."
"All right, all right," he chuckled awkwardly as his hands made a soothing gesture. "As I said, I'll think about it, okay pumpkin?"
There wasn't any time left to talk anyway. I heard the front door open and Mom come in.
"Hey, Mom!" I chirped happily, and hugged her, and kissed her on her lips, putting on a display for my father.
****
When school was out on Wednesday, I didn't wait for my friends. I wanted to go home straight away. Dad would be working from home for the rest of the week.
I knew he was upstairs working in his soundproof home office, and couldn't hear me coming home. I took off my coat and shoes and walked up to his room.
"Hey Dad," I smiled at him through the open door. "Can I come in?"
"Heeyy, sure!" he responded cheerfully, and turned his chair to me, which I took as an invitation to go sit on his lap as soon as I'd get there.
"How was your day, Daddy?" I asked, walking toward him, and then without warning bent down, and planted my lips on his for a good long three seconds. My lips parted from his with a wonderful kissing sound.
"It was great, how was yours princess?" he mumbled shyly, petting the hair on my back.
"It was okay. I missed you though," I sighed, sitting down on his lap, and then gave him another kiss on his cheek. "Hmm, you smell like... uhh, I don't know... I have little experience with cuddling men," I giggled.
"Okay," he chuckled as his body froze, and his arms remained stiff next to his body.
"You're so stiff, Daddy!" I exclaimed and teasingly pushed against his chest.
He smiled a little, clearly uncertain about what to do.
"Is that your girlfriend?"
We both looked up in surprise at his laptop at a gray-haired man waving at us. I hadn't realized Dad had been in a meeting.
"Hi, there!" he waved at me. "Are you his girlfriend?"
What a nosey fellow...
"Y-yes," I answered with a smile plastered across my face.
"I figured he wasn't your real daddy, but it can't hurt to ask," he laughed.
