I awoke the next morning, an uncomfortable pressure on my bladder – more than usual. I felt sore all over, my body cramped and stiff. At first, I wasn’t sure where I was, and it took a long time to become awake enough to take stock of my situation. I reached down to massage my groin, which felt uncomfortable. There was a growing sense of discomfort, and then pain.
A mad whoosh of awareness swept over me, and I tried to sit up in order to better look at the lower half of my body. Unfortunately, when my stomach muscles contracted to allow me to do so, they were blocked by an intruder. Another sharp pain erupted from my midsection. Unable to cope, I flew back down on the bed, eyes wide staring at the ceiling as I tried to ride through the agony.
My hand finally found the embedded dildo emerging from my cunt. To my utter amazement, there was remarkably little remaining outside my body. I hadn’t quite taken it all, but it was damn close enough to scare me.
I tried pulling on the dildo and instantly regretted it. Unlike the previous night, I wasn’t lubricated at all, and it felt stuck. Even slight tugs felt like it was going to pull my insides straight out of my body. I couldn’t quite get the grip or the leverage that I needed lying flat on my back, so I tried to sit up again more slowly.
It was no good. I felt the pain almost immediately and had to take almost a full minute to catch my breath. I began to wonder if I was in serious trouble, and whether I should call for help. My heart pounded as I ran through the scenarios in my head.
Dad! Can you come in here for a minute? I need your help!
What’s wrong, Shannon?
Oh, nothing much, I just have your dick stuck in my vagina. I should have known you would be too big for me.
Ha ha, oh, Shannon, you are such a goof.
Well, you know me, Dad. Anything for a laugh.
Well, let’s get you to the hospital so that they can take that out of you.
The hospital?
Of course. They see this kind of thing all the time.
They do?
Well, you may be the first one they’ve seen with your father’s cock-based toy stuffed up your chimney, but once it’s done, everyone will have a good laugh. We may even get to put it in this year’s Christmas update!
I felt tears begin to well up in my eyes as Team Morality decided it was a good time for an “I told you so” play. You are such a slut, TM told me. Look at you now. Sleeping with your father’s girlfriend, and now lying on the bed with his cock in your cunt, unable to move. This is your punishment; you deserve this.
I had only been awake for a couple of minutes, and wasn’t much of a morning person to begin with. I felt ridiculous, impaled by a silicone dong and unable to move. It really did feel like I deserved my fate.
I’ve never been able to cope with emotions like this, and was one of the reasons why I had always been very shy and never took risks or chances. Because this kind of thing could happen. Well, I would never have actually guessed or anticipated exactly this, but all the more reason why I tended to like to play it safe.
Without thinking, I managed to roll onto my side and started to pull up my legs into a fetal position. To my surprise, that seemed to work. The dildo began to push downward, and I could reach behind me and get a better grip on it. I suddenly had a moment of hope that I wouldn’t have to go to the hospital after all, or even better, call for help from my father.
The difference between being turned on and not being turned on was like the difference between skating on ice and skating on sandpaper. Unable to help myself, I tried to intellectualize myself out of the situation. After all, I got it in, why was it so difficult to get it out? My body seemed like it couldn’t make up its mind. I wanted to get rid of it, but the muscles in my womb and stomach didn’t seem to want to relax enough to let it go. Worse, my vaginal walls were so dry it felt like last night’s lubrication had turned into cement.
I began to wonder if there had been some sort of vacuum created inside of me, preventing it from loosening. I began to have mental images of pulling it out, along with all my intestines and organs and everything I never paid attention to in anatomy class. I tried slight movements, trying to get a little farther each time, but this wasn’t going to be easy.
Well, at least Simone couldn’t take as much as you did, Team Shutupandfuckme said, snarkily. She probably got stuck a lot sooner.
I couldn’t help it. I rolled my eyes at my own crazy thoughts. Why the hell would I be thinking of Simone at this very moment? And yet, I couldn’t help the visual from stepping up, front and center.
In my mind’s eye, I imagined Simone in some upper-class bedroom with frilly pink things and perfectly set up thanks to the imaginary live-in maid, trying to shove the fake cock into her pussy. Bound and determined to fuck it, she kept aiming at her hole, tongue slipped between her lips at the corner of her mouth like some deranged, obsessed cartoon. Despite my own situation, I found myself smiling at the image.
The images flipped by like a montage, imaginary-Simone trying every day to stuff her cunt, only to be stymied. Each time she would try, she was determined to get it in further. She couldn’t do it, even with all her stupid, perfect curves and her stupid, perfect breasts (as if they had any say in the matter), her frustration mounting each time. I imagined her finally getting the head in, a cheer of triumph on her lips, but the recognition that she would never be able to take it all in.
I’d never seen Simone naked. I always avoided being trapped in the school shower with her and her minions, but my mind was able to transpose the doppelgänger girl in the video with Simone, not that it mattered very much. I couldn’t get a good, clear image of Simone naked in my head, but this fantasy was all about the idea of her, anyway.
I imagined her pulling on the cock, almost trying to rip herself in two, and failing. I pictured her trying to “own” me by fucking herself with the dildo, only to be blocked by her own body. Her mad, deranged desire to hate me so much – for whatever reason – had poisoned her brain. This was about as much about humiliating me as it was satisfying her pride. As her frustration mounted, my joy at her predicament did as well. As imaginary-Simone floundered on the bed, desperate for some release, I felt an increasing desire to keep the fantasy going.
With a start, I realized that the pain wasn’t there anymore. In fact, it hadn’t been there for a while. My fingers from one hand were playing with my clit, while the other was fucking myself with the dildo in small, quick movements. I had begun to grow wetter, and now the dildo moved back and forth with greater fluidity (yes, pun intended again). I was pretty sure that I could remove it now.
Don’t you dare! Team Shutupandfuckme screamed in my head. Team Morality simply threw its metaphorical hands into the air and gave up.
My hatred for Simone began to turn the fantasy into something darker, more terrible. Hands and arms that were attached to no bodies reached for her and held her down. One hand covered her mouth, her eyes widening with shock and comprehension. Another hand reached for the dildo, others pinned her arms and legs to her gorgeous four-poster bed in her pristine, girly-girly, immaculate everything-a-rich-bitch-could-ever-want bedroom.
Here, let us help you, a voice said to imaginary-Simone, an impossible dark voice that was neither male nor female. The hand holding the cock twisted it like a door knob, rotating the head inside of her cunt. Her eyes rolled back in her head.
The disembodied voice scoffed. So you want to torment Shannon, but you can’t even take it yourself.
Simone made noises through the hand, but they were unintelligible. The cock turned back the other way. Her eyes rolled up into her head, which fell back onto the pillow. Her muffled words dying in an agonizing moan.
Look at you, the voice said. Pathetic. Trying to be the Queen Bitch, and you can’t even take more than this. The head was at its apex at her pussy lips, creating the farthest possible spread of her body. It glistened with her wetness. She tried to move her hips, and I imagined that she was trying to take more of it in but couldn’t.
The hand pushed the dildo a little, and she screamed into the hand in pain, then whimpered in frustration. She wanted more, but just couldn’t take it.
Oh, too bad, the voice mocked. The little Queen Bitch is more of a court Jester. Tears began to form in her eyes.
The cock seemed to twist a little, and the hand moved it just a little in and out of her hole, but never quite allowing it to sink inside. It seemed to promise satisfaction of being fucked and completely entered, but then it denied that relief. Simone’s perfect body writhed on the bed, held down by all of those ghostly, powerful hands and arms. She wasn’t struggling to get free now, only just trying to get some sort of relief. She was being kept on a knife’s edge, but not allowed to feel the cut.
Even so, her body was reacting to it. Her breathing was erratic, long slow breaths followed by very short and quick gasps. She was getting close, even if she couldn’t get the flare of the cock past the point of no return. It was building, growing.
So desperate, the voice said, disgusted. Tears streamed down her face, but I couldn’t tell if it was because of desperation or humiliation. Or both. You are getting closer and closer, and you just can’t come, can you?
Imaginary-Simone shook her head violently. She wanted to come, needed to do so. She was raising her hips to meet the hand with the dildo, but couldn’t quite get it to go inside. She wanted to fuck so badly that it was driving her insane.
A red flush began to cover her body, and her eyes opened wide. She was feeling the onslaught of an orgasm, the mad tidal wave rush of pleasure cresting over that final hurdle, about to wash over her in a flood of ecstasy. She was ready for it, and prepared herself to let it happen to her.
Pathetic, the voice said, dismissive. In an instant, all hands disappeared and Simone was left clinging to the anticipation of an orgasm that was ripped from her just before crossing the finish line.
You’ll never be a real woman, the ghostly echo of the voice lingered in the air.
Instead, I got the orgasm that she had craved. I had robbed it from her, taken it as my own. My hips bucked against the dildo, feeling it from a completely different perspective while on my side. I felt everything that Simone could not, absorbed the girth of the cock in my body in a way that she would never know. I got the added satisfaction of appreciating her body’s betrayal on top of the glorious climax that should have been hers.
As I felt the cock slide freely inside of me, my mind played out the finality of Simone’s torture. I imagined her struggling to stuff the dildo in with her hands, frantically trying to capture the orgasm that almost-was, but each flustered attempt simply pushing it further and further away. The dark, dangerous voice began a rumbling laughter, and Simone covered her ears with her hands in order to escape the torment. It was futile for her, and I luxuriated in her torture.
As the fantasy began to fade out of my imagination, I started to push out the enormous cock from my body. It wasn’t effortless, but I felt it slide more consistently and easily, until the head finally caught against my pubic bone. A slight rotation of my hips, and the cock fell out of my body and I could now hold it freely in my hand.
Slowly, I raised the dildo so that I could see it better, and marveled at it. About two inches above the base was a ragged, hand-drawn half-circle in red around the shaft. At first I was confused, until I started to realize that I had seen that color before. I gawked at the dildo once I finally figured it out – it was the same color as Tracy’s lipstick. She had apparently come back and marked the dildo while I had been passed out.
Was this as much as I could get in me? I wondered. Just yesterday I could barely fit the head in my mouth, and now this?
When people use the term “awe,” it’s almost never in the right way. They overuse “awesome” as if were the same as “neat,” or “cool,” or even “that’s amazing.” Awe, on the other hand, is an emotion that practically defies description. The dictionary defines the term as “an emotion variously combining dread, veneration, and wonder that is inspired by authority or by the sacred or sublime.”
I was in awe. It was the first time in my entire life where I felt what the word was supposed to mean. This… thing… was inside my body up to there? To me, it certainly felt sacred and sublime.
Exhaustion hit me like a ton of bricks, and I wanted to go back to sleep. My body was covered in sweat, the dildo was covered in me. I needed to shower, and the dildo needed to be cleaned. At the same time, I felt… empty. Only a few moments ago I was desperately afraid that I would have had it stuck in me, and now it felt like I was missing a limb. My god, what was wrong with me?
I got off the bed and took the dildo with me, gently flopping in my hand. I stuffed it in my bag, picked it up and grabbed a towel to wrap around me, and then dashed into the bathroom.
This time, the shower didn’t involve any self-hanky panky, just a normal washing. I enjoyed the hot water falling on my body, soothing some very aching muscles. I was already halfway through washing the dildo when I realized that I was no longer afraid of it. In fact, I actually stopped what I was doing to deal with the fact that it wasn’t a shock at all. I was shocked that I wasn’t shocked!
I guess when you push yourself so far past a boundary, suddenly earlier obstacles don’t seem so daunting any more.
Turning it around and over in my hand, I looked at it with a new pair of eyes. I had taken most of the monstrous thing inside my body. I could still see the remnants of the lipstick marking my accomplishment, not quite fully cleaned off yet. I couldn’t help it – my accomplishment was impressive.
The word you’re looking for is pride, Team SUAFM gloated.
I must have been waking up finally, because I then realized that I was no longer a virgin, either. Tracy had taken my virginity, with this. Holding the cock against my body, I kept the red ring close to the area of my entrance in order to see just how high it went inside me. I gasped and double-checked the positioning, because the giant head went well past my belly button.
“That can’t be right,” I said to myself. Tracy must have been making a joke. It was just about up inside my rib cage! I shook my head, chalking it up to either my own imagination or Tracy teasing me. Still, the one thing that was incredible was just how I didn’t feel like the damn thing possessed me. Instead, I felt as if I possessed it. I had had it inside my pussy, I had fucked it, not the other way around. It felt… empowering.
It also felt sore. My pussy, that is. Come to think of it, my entire midsection felt as if I had done a thousand sit-ups, and when I moved my legs didn’t want to seem to stay close together. It was just too uncomfortable.
None of that bothered me, though. I was in a surprisingly good mood, perhaps the best mood I’d been in for weeks. There might be something to all the jokes about “needing a good fucking” after all. I certainly felt more relaxed and, well, like I had actually crossed a finish line after a marathon. I stood in the shower and just allowed myself to feel good, proud of myself even, for the first time in longer than I could remember.
I owed it all to Tracy. There was something about her that just made me feel better about myself. I wasn’t in love with her, or anything, just that a growing feeling that she helped push me through some difficult times. The light at the end of the tunnel seemed to be one that Tracy put there, just for me.
Once I was out of the shower and dressed, I hurried downstairs. I had heard noises coming from the kitchen and found myself looking forward to spending time with Tracy and my father. Rounding the corner, I saw that Tracy was in the kitchen, and through the window I could see my father outside in the back garden, pacing, talking animatedly on the phone.
“Good morning!” Tracy smiled broadly as she saw me. She was moving pots and pans around, preparing to make some breakfast.
“Morning!” I said, cheerily. I went up to her to give her a hug and kiss, when she stopped me with a hand on my arm. She glanced briefly out the window at my father, and then looked back at me.
“Oh, honey,” she said. “We mustn’t give your father any ideas. It’s part of a woman’s prerogative to have some mysteries of her own.” She smiled, but I could tell that she was serious.
“Um, ok,” I said. I felt a little dejected, not realizing just how much I had been looking forward to giving her a hug and feeling her pressed against me. Even so, it wasn’t enough to break my mood.
I looked out the window. “What’s going on?” I said. “He’s on the phone early.”
Tracy looked at the clock. It was almost 9 a.m. “Well, he’s usually up long before now for work, so it’s not so early for him.”
“Is he working?” I asked. “It’s a Sunday.”
She glanced at him in between sorting out pans. “I’m not sure,” she said. “Apparently someone misplaced something important. He didn’t say much.”
My father’s hand motions were sharp and angry, and his face was growing a more-than-healthy shade of pink.
“Would you like to help me make pancakes?” Tracy asked.
“Oooh, pancakes!” I squealed, my attention suddenly turning to my growling stomach. “What would you like me to do?”
She handed me a large mixing bowl and some ingredients, and I moved over to the kitchen table to get to work. I had to move a vase of flowers in order to make room, when it struck me that there was a vase of flowers on the kitchen table. My father, the bachelor construction worker, would never think of putting fresh flowers in the house.
“I’m guessing these are your handiwork?” I asked.
Tracy looked at what I was referring to, and nodded. “Oh, yeah,” she admitted. “I thought your father’s house could use a bit of a woman’s touch.”
I looked around, and slowly started to see small but subtle differences from the last time I had visited. In addition to the flowers, there were little cute signs on the counter that said, “Home is where the heart is,” and “Live, Love, Dream.” It was a nice touch, and definitely made the kitchen look less utilitarian.
“What do you think?” she asked.
“It looks nice,” I agreed.
“Good, I’m glad,” she said. “I had a feeling that you and I might share even more in common. Well, even more than some other similar interests.”
I felt myself blushing.
“So tell me,” she said, abruptly. “That’s quite the plaything you’ve got. Where’d you get him?”
I looked at her and frowned. “Plaything?” I asked, confused.
She placed her hands about a foot apart, and grinned at me. I blushed again. I felt like an idiot. “Um,” I stammered. “I got it from a friend from school.”
Tracy raised an eyebrow. “A friend, huh?” she said, drawing out the word. “That’s one hell of a friend! You must be very close.”
Looking away, I muttered under my breath, “Not exactly.” Louder, I said, “Um, yeah, I guess so.”
Almost immediately, I felt guilt splash over me. Only a few hours ago, this woman had given me the best sex of my life, had opened up a whole world for me that I never new existed. Okay, it was the only sex of my life, but it was still the best. And I thank her, repay her, by lying?
I turned to face her, and opened my mouth to tell her everything. I was prepared to launch into a mad rush, explaining how Simone had been tormenting me for weeks for no reason other than the fact that she could, tell her about Mr. Rawlins, tell her about how spontaneous “gifts” and the embarrassing pity party in class.
I wanted to tell her everything. I felt that I owed her something. I wasn’t sure what, exactly, but I wasn’t the kind of person who normally kept secrets from people, and I certainly wasn’t in the habit of lying. Tracy had given me something last night (why do they say someone took your virginity, anyway?) and the pressure to give her something back in kind was beginning to build.
However, nothing would come out. The words caught in the back of my throat like a physical presence –
What, dildo got your tongue, Shannon? Team Morality could be such a bitch.
– and for some reason I simply couldn’t speak. Tracy was busy with the mixing bowl, so she wasn’t looking at me, thank god, but I felt foolish nevertheless.
Before I had a chance to change my mind and say something, the door opened and my father stormed in, catching us both off guard. For a man who had gotten laid only twelve hours earlier, he was incredibly tense and irritable. He stopped short, looked from Tracy to me, and back again, and he forced a grim smile.
“I’m sorry, ladies,” he said, obviously trying to control a temper that threatened to emerge. “I had wanted to spend the day with the both of you, but… something came up.”
“What is it, Rod?” Tracy asked, concerned.
Dad flicked his eyes at me. it was only for a second, before returning them to Tracy. “Someone at work lost some very important documents,” he said. “I need to take care of it. Today.”
He was looking at Tracy pointedly, and she slowly nodded. “Uh oh,” she said. “Is it that long-term project?”
He nodded.
“Do you need any help?” Tracy asked. “I could go help you look.”
He started walking over to the coffee maker. “No, thanks,” he said. He was obviously still very upset. “The last thing I need is to look like there’s a conflict of interest.”
Tracy looked at me. I must have looked confused, because she said, “I’m an inspector for the state and I’m not even supposed to know about this.”
“Oh, right!” I said. After everything that had happened, I vaguely remembered my father telling me this the day before.
“Do you have time for breakfast?” Tracy asked, indicating the half-made pancake batter.
He smiled, sipping his cup of hot coffee. “There’s always time for pancakes,” he tried to joke.
Breakfast wasn’t what I expected at all. Unlike the banter and playfulness of the previous day, all three of us remained quiet and lost in our thoughts. My father was the most distracted, and Tracy seemed genuinely concerned about him. I hoped that whatever it was that had him so worried wasn’t going to mess things up. It looked like she really cared for him.
“Why don’t you go get your things, Shannon,” my father said as we were finishing up. “After I help Tracy clean up, I’ll take you home.”
“I can help,” I offered. I didn’t like my father being this upset, and wanted to do something to help him feel better. It felt like the least I could do.
“No, that’s okay, sweetie,” Tracy said, looking at me. “I think we’ve got this.”
I blinked. It was clear I was being dismissed, and Tracy’s assertiveness struck me as, I don’t know, premature. This was still my dad’s house, and he was still my father. It felt like she had overstepped her bounds, just a little. I guess I was expecting my father to answer me, not Tracy. I looked from her, to him, and back to her again. When he didn’t intervene, I chalked it up to him being distracted by his phone call.
A little stunned, I got up and went upstairs. As I climbed the stairs and got to the place where I had watched them fuck only the night before, I heard them talking in hushed whispers. I couldn’t hear anything that they said, but it sounded pretty intense.
I didn’t have many things to pull together, so I simply double-checked my bag (and made sure the offending dildo was secreted back inside), and headed down the stairs. As I did, I saw Tracy already had her purse and car keys, and was waiting for me by the door. I looked back at the kitchen and saw my father quickly putting things into the dishwasher.
“I thought -” I said, but Tracy cut me off.
“It’s okay, baby,” Tracy said. “Your father is really stressed right now, and it’s best that he takes care of this emergency. I’m going to go.”
“Okay, but I – ” I started, but Tracy held up a finger.
“Look, I had hoped that we could talk more today. Maybe,” she said, looking at my body again like she could devour me on the spot. I felt my legs wobble a little. “Maybe we could chat a little later on the phone.”
She reached into her purse, and pulled out a business card. She handed it to me, and said, “That’s my personal cell number there at the bottom. Call me later.”
She looked past me at my father, who was completely focused on clearing up the breakfast mess. Then, she pulled me close to her and kissed me, pressing the card into the palm of my hand. I felt it move to brush my nipple, which launched to attention.
“I’ll make it worth your while,” she whispered conspiratorially. She looked down at my nipples protruding through my shirt (god, will they ever not embarrass me?), and licked her lips. “What I wouldn’t give to suck on those beautiful titties right now.”
I stood there, frozen, unsure of what to say or do. She looked past me and called out to my father, preventing me from doing anything at all. “Call me later, Rod!” she said.
“Will do!” he called back, distracted.
She opened the door, then looked back at me and winked. “Remember, he’s mine,” she said playfully. “Don’t do anything I wanna do.”
Then she was gone, and the door closed behind her. I stood there, holding my bag and looking at the closed door in confusion. What did that mean?
There was no time to contemplate, as the next thing I knew my father was standing next to me with his keys, phone, and wallet. “Ready to go?” he asked. He obviously was.
The ride home was done mostly in silence for the first half of the trip. My father was lost in deep thought, and I had been trying to reconcile everything that happened in the past day. It felt overwhelming.
Could he know? No, he was too absorbed and upset about the lost documents. What if Tracy told him when I went upstairs to pack my things? No, that would definitely have been the wrong time, given how angry he was. There wouldn’t have been a cheerful departure if she had done that. Why would she have done such a thing, anyway?
I worked my way backwards, from saying goodbye to Tracy to the shower I took this morning, to the uncomfortable masturbation session. I had come just by thinking of Simone being tormented by would-be ninja assassin lovers. Well, at least that’s how it formulated in my head.
I reflected back on that fantasy for the moment. Simone was naked, writhing, held down and titillated until she was ready to explode. But she didn’t explode, I did. I stole it from her, and robbed her of what she wanted the most in the world at that moment. Her orgasm was mine.
Power. That’s what it was that gave me the rush. Taking her power, using it for myself, that was the reason why I was able to come so hard with that fantasy. I couldn’t care less that Simone was naked, or getting groped by faceless men – it was that I stole it from her.
I had reclaimed it with a vengeance during my morning fantasy. Like the dildo, it was a new sex toy, and one that I wanted to try out again and again.
Tracy had been the reason for that fantasy, I was sure of it. She had opened up something inside of me, and I wanted to crawl back into the past and relive last night over and over again. Tracy seemed to take all the power away from me, and in doing so I felt I was able to be free – even if just for a moment.
Giving, taking, losing, reclaiming – so much wrapped up in power and its uses. She had taught me so much in such a short span of time. What was it, a few hours? I just hoped I had given her as much as she had given me, and –
An unexpected wave of embarrassment suddenly passed over me, washing away the warmth and tingling sensations that were beginning to grow in my lower belly. Uncertainty and doubt crept around a corner of my mind. Did I do it right? What should I have done differently? Did she get something from me at all?
Chaotic images came back out of order. I thought back to when she turned me away from her, wrapping her arms around me and diving her fingers into my jeans. For some reason I remembered that I didn’t know what to do with my hands. What should I have done with my hands?
What about when she sat on my face? She held my head to her pussy, and I lapped away at her clit the best I could, but I could still feel her pulling my hair. My god, it felt good to feel that desire coming from her, but was she doing it because I was absolute crap?
I shuddered. Was I a bad lover? Did she need to grind against my face because I couldn’t do it right?
No, no, that wasn’t possible. She had said she wanted to spend more time with me today, that she wanted me to call her later. But wait, was she just being nice?
There was a rising panic in my chest, and I wanted to take out her business card and call her right away. I felt a strong need to apologize to her, to hear her tell me that I wasn’t that bad. She had come, after all, so I couldn’t have been terrible, right?
My cheeks felt flush. No, I had been too focused on my own pleasure. I had been fucking myself with that huge, enormous, gorgeous dildo, and I hadn’t been paying enough attention to Tracy. All I had wanted to do was fuck and get fucked. It was all about me, me, me.
What could I have done? What should I have done? Maybe I could have held onto her hips with both hands and licked her with more effort, more intensity. I could have shoved that dildo up inside my cunt and held it there with the heel of my foot if I had to, just to focus on her first – like she did for me.
God, she was showing me what to do and I had missed it! She had taken care of me – twice – and I had to be told to repay the favor? Fuck me, I didn’t even finger her! Or did I? No, I couldn’t have.
I was a horrible lover.
How could I make it up to her? When was there a time when I would be able to get her alone, get another chance at doing it right? My mind raced to try to figure out a way to contrive visiting my father again as soon as possible.
Replaying the previous night’s events in my head was exhausting, but I couldn’t help myself. I wanted a do-over, wanted to try again now that I was more experienced. I wanted to call her right now, hear her voice while I unzipped my jeans and… dammit, but that wasn’t going to happen. Not with my father right next to me.
The tips of my ears began to burn with shame. I pulled my hair over to one side so that my father couldn’t see my face, not that he was paying attention to me anyway. If he saw me, he would surely ask what I was thinking. I had a terrible habit of showing every emotion on my face, plain as day.
Team Morality seethed in my head. I kept stealing glances at my father from time to time, but he was only looking at the road.
I was in complete internal conflict. I felt embarrassed sitting next to my father, fantasizing about his girlfriend and remembering the sex we had had. Here he was, though, completely innocent and absorbed in his crisis to notice. He didn’t deserve to be cheated on, especially with his own daughter.
To my horror, I felt Team Morality start to pry open my lips to confess everything to him. It was all going to come out, how it had all started when she helped me with my nipple problem, how I watched them have sex (can I watch again?), how she slipped into my room after he fell asleep and made me feel more wanted and desired and sexual and liberated than I ever imagined that I could feel, and…
“So what do you think of Tracy?” my father asked, breaking into my internal dialogue.
Fuck me, can he read my thoughts? By some miracle, Team Morality suddenly got cold feet. The rug had slipped out from underneath, abandoning any thoughts of suicidal revelations. “I think she’s amazing,” I said, honestly. “You two seem to be made for each other.”
My father nodded, never taking his eyes from the road. “Yeah, she’s an incredible woman.”
And she is incredible in bed, too! I thought, despite myself.
“It’s not often that you get a second chance,” my father continued. “I thought I’d lost her forever.”
Today’s lesson, boys and girls, is that the well of guilt is bottomless. He obviously really liked her, and he had no idea of what we had done, what she was capable of.
No, what we were capable of. Tracy and me. His girlfriend and his daughter. Team Morality picked up their knives, and started sharpening them. This was going to cut, and cut deep.
“So, uh,” I said, not sure I wanted to know the answer to the question. “What happened? Why did you guys break up so long ago?”
My father’s jaw set, and a strange look crossed his face. “It was my fault, really,” he said.
“Did you cheat on her?” I asked, the question popping out of my mouth before I had a chance to stop it. Secretly, I hoped that he had. It might make what I had done a little less egregious. But only by a little.
“Oh, no, nothing like that,” he said, and a genuine smile appeared on his face for the first time that morning. He seemed to be remembering something. “Besides, Tracy isn’t really the jealous type.”
I blinked. I looked at him to see if he was joking, or being ironic.
Remember, he’s mine, Tracy’s voice echoed in my head. Last night, she basically said the same thing. She said it twice in as many days – less than twelve hours apart, even. Isn’t that the kind of thing that a jealous person would say?
Then again, why would she be jealous of me? He’s my father, after all. Maybe I had a slight Elektra complex, and she was just teasing me. There’s no way I’d be an actual threat.
Then again, I did have a replica of his dick and she knew I was willing to fuck it. Maybe she actually was warning me away from him. What if he was wrong?
Then something occurred to me. What if I was wrong? Did Tracy know something I didn’t know? Did she somehow look into my soul and see something that I had yet to confess, even to myself? She seemed to read me like a book, so maybe I was missing something. Did I want to fuck my father, for real? Was she really concerned about that? Was I?
“Relationships are complicated,” my father said, thankfully breaking my train of thought. “Sometimes it’s about timing, that’s all.”
“Timing is everything,” I recited back to him.
He glanced at me, and patted my thigh. “Wise beyond your years,” he said.
He didn’t mean anything by it. It was a friendly, comforting touch. At least, that’s what he intended it to be. He didn’t try to send a searing fire on my thigh, didn’t want to wake Team Shutupandfuckme from its slumber. Yet it happened, nevertheless.
Dear god, maybe Tracy was right after all.
Then his hand was gone. Before I knew what I was doing, and without my brain engaging at all, I saw my own hand reach out to pat his thigh too.
I patted it twice, and then left it there. I felt the warmth of his leg, felt the curvature of his muscles. Did I feel a twitch? Or was I just imagining it?
My father looked at me, a puzzled look on his face. Thinking fast, I said, “True wisdom comes from knowing that you know nothing.”
A broad smile broke out over his face. “That’s us, dude!” he said, completing the quote.
“All we are is dust in the wind,” we said in unison. “Dude!”
We broke out in laughter. There’s nothing like a little Bill and Ted’s Excellent Adventure to right the ship. It was the right thing, at the right moment. I withdrew my hand, breathing a sigh of relief that I had escaped a very awkward situation.
The feeling of touching his thigh didn’t go away, however. My palm still burned with the memory of his muscular leg, and I turned to stare out my passenger window with wide, panicked eyes. What the actual fuck, Shannon!?
What if he “dressed right” today, you idiot? Team Morality was on a tear. What if you had actually touched his dick, Shannon?
Yeah, Team Shutupandfuckme chimed in. What if you grabbed onto his dick?
Oh god, I really was a pervert.
“Thanks, Shannon, I needed that,” my father said. At first, I was confused, having already moved on in my head to a different conversation. I looked at him again and saw that he was smiling, a little more relaxed.
“Dad?” I asked, a thought suddenly popping into my head. I hesitated, not wanting to sour his mood, but unsure of when I would get the chance to ask again.
“Yes, Shannon?” he prompted.
“Why didn’t you and Mom ever get married?” I asked.
He looked surprised. “Your… Mom?” he repeated. “Michelle?”
I tried to joke. “Do you know of any other Moms, Dad?” I teased.
“No, it’s just…” he trailed off, thinking.
“Is it because,” I tried to find the courage to say the words. “Is it because she’s stupid?”
My father snapped his head to look at me. He had a sharp look on his face, the needle crossing over from irritated to just short of angry. “Shannon,” he said, his voice piercing into my skull. “I never want to hear you disrespecting your mother like that. Do you hear me? Never again.”
It was a very fatherly reproach. It was also something I had never heard from him before. I shrank back into my seat, unsure how to process this tone of voice. It was new to me, and I didn’t like it one bit.
Even so, his attitude was puzzling to me. Thinking about it, I honestly couldn’t understand my parents’ dynamic. He always seemed friendly and supportive. I had never wanted for anything important in my entire life. Still, as bubbly and flirtatious as my mother was, she cooled considerably whenever my father was nearby. She didn’t hate him, per se, but her demeanor changed whenever he was around. He never complained, but I didn’t expect him to rush to her defense, either.
“I, I – ” I stammered. “I wasn’t trying to be disrespectful, I promise. I just wanted to know why you and Mom never even tried to make it work.”
The words came out of my mouth before I could check them. I didn’t mean to make them sound like a challenge, and hopefully my tone of voice softened them a little. There was no escaping the pointed and direct question, however.
“Look, Shannon,” my father began, after a moment. He was obviously uncomfortable, and hadn’t been planning on his mostly-estranged daughter finally asking questions that she should have asked years before. “Your mother is an absolute saint. She’s beautiful, friendly, and would give everything for the people she loves.”
That didn’t answer my question. I got the distinct impression he was trying to put a very kind face on an ugly mask. “But she’s not very smart,” I said, and then held up my hands quickly to appease another outburst. “I’m not being disrespectful! I just mean that it can be a lot of… work… when someone is…”
I fought to find the right word, but failed. My father simply nodded, accepting the fact that I didn’t say the word stupid again. I don’t know if he was able to tell just how much was loaded into my comment, however. I wanted him to know that living with my mother could be very taxing, and that if that was the case for the reason why they never got together, I understood.
In a bizarre, misguided way, I just wanted him to know that I got it, that we could bond over that fact. It didn’t work and it had been a mistake to try that tactic, and now I knew it.
It didn’t mean that I wasn’t curious, though. On paper, they should have clicked. It felt like they should have been the perfect couple. He, a hard-working blue-collar man with a strong sense of responsibility, and she was a beautiful, friendly, flirtatious bombshell who knew how to please a man. Just ask her.
In reality, their relationship was far more professional. You’d see more warmth accepting a delivery package than the way these two interacted. It wasn’t hostile, exactly, just cordial. They were far more like acquaintances than people who really knew each other, or even wanted to.
As long as I could remember, It had always been that way. Growing up, their relationship never felt odd because that was simply the way it was. They exchanged gifts at Christmas, but never spent Christmas together. Either I was at my father’s house, or at my mother’s, but the three of us had never spent it as a “family.”
“Your mother is an amazing woman,” he said evenly, his voice calmer and more steady now. “I care for her very much, and I owe her far more than I can ever repay her. I think, in her own way, she cares for me too. The truth of the matter is that even if I were to ask her, she would never want to be with me.”
“Why not?” I asked, genuinely curious.
Then a thought struck me. Maybe there was something more primal about why they couldn’t be together than at first glance. I thought about my father’s dick. Was he too big? Could she not take a cock that large? I could see how most women would scream at the sight of it, afraid it would tear them apart.
“Let’s just say that we’re not a good fit,” he said with a sad little smile.
Holy fuck, I thought. It is because he’s too big!
“But let’s make one thing very clear,” he said, his voice firm. “Michelle may not be Einstein but she has a heart bigger than any universe.”
It took me a second before I got his pun (“Einstein… universe…”) and realized that my father – the construction worker – had just made a science joke. Maybe he understood me better than I thought he did.
I don’t know why, but his answer comforted me. I was old enough to know that people got divorced for many reasons, and relationships never get off the ground for many more. This didn’t come from personal experience, of course, but at least I could put any concerns out of my mind that I may have been the cause.
To be honest, I never really thought about how or why my parents weren’t together. They just weren’t. I suppose I had truly been living in my own world and not questioning anything. Until recently. Throughout my teen years, I just wanted to be left alone. Now I realize that I may have just gotten what I wished for. Perhaps just a bit too much of what I wished for.
After a moment, I saw that he was gripping the steering wheel a little too hard, and then shifting his hands to flex and release them repeatedly. He was nervous about something.
“Shannon?” he asked, quietly. This got my attention. There was definitely something important on his mind. I had a sinking feeling in my stomach, but couldn’t for the life of me understand why.
“Yes, daddy?” I asked, feeling very small. I rarely said the “d-word” but in this case it seemed like the right thing to say.
“You know that I love you very much, right?” he said. It was a shocking turn in the conversation, and seemingly came out of nowhere. He had gone from terribly upset to moody silence to reciting movie quotes to being angry with me to this. I wasn’t sure where he was going with it. It also seemed to justify why I suddenly felt frightened.
“I… I guess so,” I said, unsure of how to respond.
It wasn’t the right thing to say. He closed his eyes just a little too long for a man who was driving, and when he opened them again I could see they were a bit more moist than they had been. “That’s what I was afraid of,” he said.
“I’m sorry, daddy,” I said, trying to backpedal. “I didn’t mean – ”
He held up a hand. “No, Shannon, it was an honest answer and one that you should always feel free to give.”
I shut up. I didn’t know what else to say. At least I understood that if I said nothing, I wouldn’t be shocking my foot in my mouth again.
“You and I have always had a different relationship,” he said. “You’ve always been very independent, your own person. I’ve loved that about you and respected that about you.”
I swallowed. I wasn’t expecting a heart-to-heart. In fact, we’d never had a heart to heart. I certainly wasn’t expecting him to practically read my mind.
He glanced at me, trying to choose his next words. “You remind me so much of…” his voice trailed off.
Now I was extra curious. “Who?” I asked.
He smiled, wistfully. “Someone that I used to know. Someone that Tracy and I used to know,” he amended, quickly. “I think she probably sees that in you, too. She even said so this morning.”
“Who?” I asked again.
“That’s a long story, Shannon,” he said, his voice flattening and I realized that he wasn’t going to tell me. “I promise that I’ll tell you some day, but it’s going to take longer than we have right now.
“But ever since you were a little girl,” he said, getting back to the subject, “you were fiercely independent. You were always your own person, but you were kind and sweet and you made it so easy to love you.”
I didn’t know where he was going with this, but I felt a tingle in my nose and a wetness begin to fill my eyes. I wasn’t sure I really wanted to hear this, but it sounded like he needed to say it. Meanwhile, Team Morality was packing the bags for one of the biggest guilt trips I knew I would ever take.
“I always wanted to give you what you wanted, even if that was space,” he said. “Now that you’re eighteen, and going to go off to school in a few months, I don’t know if I’ll get the chance to say this again. But it’s very, very important to me that you know how much I love you and I’m proud of you.”
He looked at me for as long as it was safe to do so. “You’ve grown into such a beautiful, intelligent, strong young woman, Shannon,” he said, with a firmness that sounded as if he wanted to push the thought into my stubborn brain before I could argue with him.
“Promise me,” he said with some finality. “Promise me that no matter what – no matter what – you will know that everything I’ve done, I’ve done because I love you so very much.”
The tears fell down the sides of my cheeks, and I didn’t know what to say. I was afraid that if I opened my mouth at all, the only thing that would come out would be the bawling of a baby girl.
“You’re the most amazing thing that’s ever happened to me,” he said, looking straight at me. It was only then that I realized that he had parked the car in my driveway.
His words were laden with meaning that I couldn’t place. He was telling me something, but he wasn’t coming right out and saying it. This didn’t feel right. I stared at him, hoping to catch a glimpse of what he was getting at, but I was missing it. All I could tell was that he really, really wanted me to listen to him and believe what he had to say.
“I’m sorry that I couldn’t give you everything you wanted, Shannon, that I couldn’t be there as much as you might have liked. I wanted to be there more, please believe me.”
What the hell is he talking about? Why is he telling me this?
A thought struck me. “Oh god, Dad, are you dying?” I croaked out.
He looked shocked, and then started to laugh. “What? No!” he exclaimed. “Not at all!”
“Then why are you… what is… what the hell, Dad?” I could barely breathe. The tears came quickly now.
His smile faded, and he swallowed. “It’s just very important to me that you know,” he finally said. “There may come a time when you may not think it, but you need to know it in your heart. Promise me that you’ll always remember it.”
I nodded, but apparently it wasn’t enough. “Promise me, please,” he said, gently.
“I promise,” I said, even though I wasn’t entirely sure exactly what I was promising.
This was completely uncharacteristic of him. It was awkward and uncomfortable. This wasn’t the kind of relationship that we had, where we actually opened up to each other. This wasn’t the friendly, almost-platonic, “Howdy, Doody” joking relationship where we kind of hung out and did nothing of consequence.
This was, like, an actual Father-Daughter kind of thing, and I was completely unprepared for it. The timing was all wrong, the sendoff completely out of place. I had seen this man naked, had watched him fuck several women (at least on video), I had even fucked his dick (sort of). Damn, I had even cheated with his girlfriend. I did that, probably because we hadn’t been all that close. He had no idea just how much my relationship with him had changed, which probably made this entire conversation all the more awkward for me.
This was some real bonding moment kind of stuff, though, and I had never felt closer to him in my entire life. He had touched something that I didn’t even know existed inside of me, had made me reconsider everything I ever thought about our relationship.
And I was now horny as hell.