To all you perverts reading the stories on this website ... my real name is Cindy. I'm not going to tell you my last name, because dad said that would be unwise, and he is pretty smart. I will tell you that his true name is not Lance Sterling, but that his first name is Rich.
I'm going to write a story and post it here under dad's name. It has a little bit of sex in it, but nothing kinky like all the other crap I've read here.
You might be wondering how a 16 year old teenager got involved with her dad's online story account and discovered he is a little bit ... hmmm ... unusual? Well let me tell you all about it.
The first time I discovered that my dad was a story teller was when I was six. I had asked him about my mom, about what she was like. He told me that she loved me very much and it was painful when she left us when I was almost three. I didn't remember her at all and dad didn't have any pictures of her, which I thought was strange. But he explained that was because mom just didn't like her picture taken. Too bad because I wondered if I looked like her. He told me that mom had gotten sick with an incurable form of cancer and that she simply died one night in the hospital. Even at six years of age I understood that cancer was a bad disease.
Anyways, the next summer when I was seven, I spent a month at Aunt Mary's house. She was single at the time, but had been married to Uncle Bill, who was pretty cool until he got killed in a car wreck. He always made me laugh and tickled me a lot. Poor Aunt Mary has lost a lot of people in her life. Her mom and then her dad, and then her husband. But she kept a smile on her face and a positive outlook in her life. I figured if anyone understood my curiosity it would be Aunt Mary because she and dad had lost their own mother early in their childhood as well, just like me. Anyways, the conversation went something like this...
"Aunt Mary," I asked, "Tell me the truth about my mom, what was she really like?"
"Haven't you talked about her with your dad?" she asked.
"Yeah, but not much, he doesn't like talking about her for some reason," I said.
"The truth is an ugly picture," she said. "You see your mom was someone who latched onto your dad because she saw dollar signs. She was bad news from the beginning. After dating her for just a couple of months she turned up pregnant with you. They got married, but it wasn't a good marriage. She complained all the time and was the laziest bitch I ever knew. After you were born she made your dad hire Mrs. Jenkins to take care of you. She didn't do much of anything except drink when your dad was out or spend his money at the bars. And she wasn't faithful either. But your father felt that a girl should have a mother, so he put up with her bullshit."
"He told me she died when I was almost three," I said, "Is that true?"
"Yeah, that is true ... she had gone out drinking and partying and did some cocaine or something. They found her in an alley the next day stiff as a board, overdosed on whatever the recreational drug of the night was. It was a blessing in disguise if you ask me.
"Cindy honey, you mother was never your mom, she was just an evil person who got what she deserved. And now I'm not going to talk about her ever again."
One thing about Aunt Mary, she never held back and would tell you the truth, painful or not. I actually didn't feel any remorse about it. Mrs. Jenkins was more like a mother to me than anyone. She was sweet and took care of me, really a grandma figure that I loved a whole lot. But as happy as I was with her, it wasn't meant to last.
She died when I was 12, almost 13. Both daddy and I cried while holding each other. She went in her sleep, peaceful and I'm glad she did. Dad said that she was just old and it was her time. I still miss her to this very day.
I mentioned earlier that my dad was a story teller. I gave you one example when I told you about my biological mother. I understand he did it to protect me, but it was still a lie. Maybe you have to be a bit of a liar to be a story teller. I guess it comes easy for him since he is a shrink. A psychiatrist actually. Don't confuse that with psychologist. That drives him nuts. He says that he takes care of patients with medical treatments, not group therapy mumbo jumbo. He says that a psychologist doesn't prescribe lithium or electroshock therapy. But he says the biggest difference is that he had to pay back an additional four years of medical school expenses.
You see, he was a doctor first. He worked in the emergency room for a number of years and then when my mother died he went into dermatology or allergy or something like that ... a more normal work week. Later he went into psychiatry and that is what he still practices today, helping people overcome their crazy problems.
But if you ask me, he is the one who needs help ... have your read his stories on this website? (Sorry dad, just kidding!)
So a few weeks back, we got out of school early at noontime. Since it is just him and me at home now, I decided to surprise him and got a cab to the clinic. We had a really nice lunch together. I mean who cannot love eating at a buffet place ... right? Afterwards he asked me if I wanted to take a cab home, or I could hang around his office while he saw his afternoon patients. He said if I did that, then we could go see the last Hunger Games movie when he got off work and could eat a late supper afterwards, that is if I still had any room after a large popcorn with melted butter and a diet soda.
I told him that I'd love to wait for him, and then asked if I could use his laptop and surf the web while I waited. He said, "Sure honey, just don't spend all your allowance on Amazon otherwise you're going to be broke next week."
Okay ... now here comes the kinky stuff.
I took the laptop into an empty office, plugged it in, grabbed a chocolate milk from the fridge, closed the door and sat down at the desk and turned the laptop on.
When the screen came up, there was an open file in the word processor. I scrolled to the beginning and read the title, and the author's name of "Lance Sterling." I thought it was something that dad had downloaded and was reading.
So I started reading it and it wasn't long before the sex started in the story. And it was pretty graphic. There was a lot of brother-sister incest in the story, and it was kinda hot in some ways, and kinda disgusting in other ways. I kept reading until I got to the last page and there the story just stopped. There were a few notes typed on the last lines, things that said, "end love scene here" and "begin closure to ranch here." They were notes like someone who was writing a draft would place at the end.
It was here that I realized this was a work of my dad's, and not yet complete. That was when I decided to go into his document folder and see what was there.
There were like two dozen stories all there, all written by the same guy, Lance Sterling. And, the stories had titles that said either DRAFT or POSTED ONLINE.
Now I was really curious. So I opened up the web browser and clicked on the icon that I knew was a history of websites my dad had visited. My dad is kinda computer dumb ... I mean he can turn it on, he can type a document and print it, he can even surf the web ... but beyond that, he is clueless. He certainly never knew that he could (and probably should have) deleted his site histories.
One site that I saw over and over was one called Storiesonline.net. So I went there first. (By the way dad, I also saw that you made some visits to some porn sites too!)
The laptop logged me on automatically to the website and I clicked on the author's link, and then clicked on a link to manage stories. I'll be damned if half of the stories on the laptop were posted on the website. My dad was (and is) a porn writer. Ohhh, this was good. I couldn't believe it. Not my dad, I mean "NO WAY!"
So with the whole afternoon in front of me, I started reading the stories. Some were simple science fiction stories with no sex. Okay, I can accept that. Then I read one called "The Fishing Trip." I knew it was a make believe story too, but something about it seemed familiar. It got me thinking back to Aunt Mary and her place with the lake in the center of the woods on my grandpa's land. (BTW, my grandpa died before my dad ever met my mom).
The similarity made me wonder. Also the story used the name Lance in it, and dad still calls Aunt Mary "Sissy." No way I told myself. This is probably dad's fantasy.
It was about this time I'm really wondering about my dad ... I mean, is he kinky or what?
I finished up reading all the stories, and several of them dealt with sister-brother incest. I know my Aunt Mary and dad are close ... but that close?
With still an hour to go before dad saw his last patient, I closed the windows on the laptop and started surfing eBay and Amazon, looking for nothing in particular. But still what I read kept coming back to me.
The hour passed and dad had finished with his last appointment. It would only take about 30 minutes more of him dictating his patient's charts and he would be ready to go. Finally he walked into the office and I turned off the laptop and closed it.
"How's my little girl," he asked, "Are you ready for a movie?"
"Yep," I replied smiling at him, "Let's go!"
We went to the theater and got our tickets, a large popcorn that we would share, though I knew that I would end up eating 80% of it. And a diet soda for me, bottle of water for dad.
The movie was really good, and I was glad in the end to see Katniss and Peeta together with kids of their own. A great movie with a happy ending. That is just what I love.
.... There is more of this story ...