A short one I had to get out of my head

Jennifer

I’d been homeschooled my whole life. I asked my mom and dad to let me go to school like my older brothers for as long as I can remember. They liked to say a girl like me couldn’t go to private school. I never knew what that meant, but all I knew was that I wanted to meet boys and make friends. When we moved to Mactown they finally let me go to a private school for my freshmen year. I asked if they’d let me go to Mactown High School, but they told me their friends had warned them away from it. I asked what was so scary about it but they wouldn’t give me a straight answer.

I’d gone through a crazy transformation. My mom had taught me a little about puberty, but she’d just said that I’d go through some changes. I had no idea it would be so drastic. Even my brothers, who always used to tease me about how small and young I looked, started making comments that I think they thought were compliments. I was a little weirded out, they said things like, “wow sis, you’re really growing up now,” “You’re really filling out Jenn,” “When did your hair get so silky and soft,” “Your ass is looking tight.”

I didn’t know what that last one was supposed to mean. All I knew was that my butt was starting to stick out behind me the more I worked out. My chest was ballooning out to a ridiculous size. My body was just becoming ... curvy ... and mature like in the magazines, but young like the girls I saw walking around in the mall.

The change was drastic and happened through the summer. I didn’t have the clothes I needed to be ready to meet people. When I told my dad, he took a long look at me. Long enough to make me nervous. But he eventually promised to go shopping with me. It took longer to go shopping than I thought it would take.

I started a new game with my dad on my fourteenth birthday.

It was weird because I grew up learning at home and I didn’t learn a lot of different games and my mom and dad always taught me I should keep my clothes on and be modest.

I didn’t know what I was trying to be modest about. I guess I was pretty, I didn’t talk to a lot of boys since I was homeschooled. I was blonde and 5’4”, my hair reached my low back. I had green eyes and a splash of cute freckles. I had wide hips and was pretty fit for only playing club field hockey. My dad like to tell me, “Jennifer if you start working out the boys won’t be able to keep their hands off you.”

At first, I didn’t think I had big chest but when we first played the game my dad put his hands on my breasts and his fingers looked almost small against my mounds. At least I knew that having a flat stomach and toned legs looked good, but that was easy to guess. His fingers seemed to disappear inside my tissue. He kept talking about how juicy and plump my butt cheeks were in a way that sounded like he wanted to chew on them. Which he later did. It was a weird game.

Occasionally, when no one else was around, he’d come up behind me while I was on the couch watching TV or when I was on my phone and he’d start messaging my shoulders. At first it was just a birthday present, and he had really strong and careful fingers. He took his time and spoke softly to me. It put butterflies in my stomach the next day when he came up behind me. It was easier for him now because of the new clothes he’d bought me. They exposed more of my skin, even my shoulders and made it easy for him. The third time I was wearing a tank top and he pushed the straps out of the way. I felt exposed, but in a good way. I was suddenly very aware that he was staring down my cleavage. Mostly because he complimented it more and more. The fourth time he talked about my heavy and perky chest almost constantly. That was also the first time he put his hands on my tits, right over my shirt. He didn’t ask, he just slid his hands down from my shoulders and right over my breasts. I wasn’t wearing a lot of my more traditional tops anymore. Mostly the tank tops and bikinis my dad bought me.

He messaged them slowly at first, almost gently. I told him he shouldn’t, but he said he was allowed to as my father. That didn’t make a lot of sense to me, but I didn’t argue. He didn’t like it when I argued with him. He became rougher, digging his fingers deeper and deeper into my flesh, pressing them tight against his palms or against each other. He was enjoying it so much he was moving with his hand motions, and he was moaning, or that was me.

It wasn’t long before he was going under my shirt. I didn’t have any bras even though I probably needed them. But my dad wouldn’t buy them for me, said I was too young for them. I told him he shouldn’t be feeling my breasts under my shirt and he said fathers should be allowed to touch their daughters how they liked. When I argued back that he taught me otherwise he asked him if I didn’t like it. I did, so I let him continue. His imposing and tall figure overshadowed me as I sat on the couch. He was even more forceful now than before. His hands were rough on my soft skin. His digits were powerful machines almost trying to milk my teenage breasts, working my nipples, twisting and pinching them. I felt submissive and small under him, like his little plaything, and I liked feeling like he was my master.

When I knew we were the only ones in the house, I wouldn’t put a top on. I had a feeling that he liked that. I could do it pretty often to since I was homeschooled, and my mom and dad switched off. Although my dad was offering to take more and more days lately. He didn’t seem to mind, he mostly worked from home anyway as a freelance writer.

He was giving me a message one day. I was topless because he told me to take my clothes off. He suddenly stopped and vaulted over the couch to sit next to me. He wrapped one arm around my torso. Now with my dad’s eyes on me I instinctively covered myself up, but he pulled my arms down. With both hands he continued to fondle my breasts and took it the next step further and began suckling and biting my hard, brown nipples. Sometimes he’d kiss me, and sneak his tongue into my mouth, sometimes so far it felt like he was down my throat. I knew this was wrong, but I knew it was my fault. I’d pushed him by having such a developed body. I could only blame myself and I couldn’t bring myself to stop him. That went on for days, almost weeks, before he took it even further.

I remember he came into my room in the morning. He told me about a game fathers and daughters sometimes played together. He said it was a secret game between only him and me. He’d said that it wouldn’t be fair that men would have to look at me in public without satisfaction. He said young girls that looked the way I looked should have to service men when they wanted me to, and that I would have to start learning how. I didn’t really understand what he meant by that, but he seemed serious, so I listened. Afterall, I loved my dad and wanted to make him happy and proud.

I didn’t hate it at first. He touched me in ... places ... no one ever touched me before. He touched me in ways no one ever had. It made me nervous and excited at the same time. He made me feel pretty, but adult also. I felt embarrassed being naked on my bed, especially since he was clothed. I felt like my nipples were headlights in the cold. Goosebumps were erupting all the way down my limbs and my cheeks went red. I was vulnerable and exposed, and I didn’t feel secure around him, but that was what was exciting for me. Then he spread my legs out and exposed my sex. I’d never felt so violated or hot at the same time.

I quickly came to realize we shouldn’t have been playing the game. And he definitely shouldn’t have been touching me the way he was. Slowly and gently, tracing my spine and messaging my muscles close to my private areas. He licked my neck and bit my ear lobes. It was definitely wrong, and we were definitely breaking some kind of rule I knew I’d heard about but was suddenly forgetting. When he kissed me the first time with tongue the roiling, bubbling, butterfly feeling in my stomach that almost made me nauseous was what cemented the depravity of my father’s actions. His musk was overwhelming, and my pussy moistened. I’d later learn I was getting turned on. But at the time I knew I wanted him to keep touching me, and I was figuring out where.

The first time hurt. A lot. But I couldn’t help but like it as well. Mostly I liked how he panted and grunted like an animal. He dug his fingers even deeper into my teenage flesh, he slapped my breasts and jiggled my ass cheeks. These things were strange enough, but even stranger was how much I enjoyed it. I could tell he was holding back, and I was afraid of what he’d be like unshackled. I was curious as well, however. His noises and masculinity made me want to please him, to make him happy and I told him as much.

“Do I make you happy daddy?” I’d ask him. That seemed to please him, and he told me to keep talking like that. “I like when you feel me, dad. Am I doing a good job?” “Are you proud of me? Have I been a good daughter?” The more demure and shy I seemed the happier he seemed. And he liked when I called him big and strong. He was a man after all. And compared to my 5’4” his 6’3” broad torso was imposing.

He sucked on my nipples and bit down on them. I didn’t realize how excited I’d feel when he did that. I moaned and yelped at his feasting on my chest. I didn’t know what had come over me. I was embarrassed by the sounds he was able to elicit from me. I was soon saying things he told me to say like, “fuck your whore,” “Drill my teenage pussy.” He didn’t seem totally satisfied by my inflection or tone, so I changed it around until he was telling me yes. He wanted me to sound like I didn’t just want it but needed it as well. And he liked when I sounded mischievous and rebellious.

He was most satisfied when he squirted a white juice from his penis onto my face. I didn’t know what a lot was, but it seemed like a literal cupful of his man juice. After that he made me promise never to tell anyone about our game, especially mom. I promised, but I had to do it as he rubbed his cock across my face. I didn’t protest because I seemed to be making him happy.

I think he liked playing with me in my room. It made the room I grew up in feel uncomfortable. The pink and fluff and girly things that were originally comforting and soothing to me were suddenly overshadowed by mad dad’s presence in my room. I balled my fists on my teddy bear’s faces, and my body writhed and twisted on my purple and pink sheets as my father pumped into my underage holes.

We were supposed to only be playing the game in my room, I think. But we broke that rule by our third time. By the third time it didn’t hurt me anymore and my dad and I played in the dining room. I can’t remember what led to that, but I was quickly on all fours my father behind me and slapping my ass and he reamed into my teenage hole.

I wish I could say my first time playing with my butthole was with my dad, but he was right about men being interested in me. And I’d taken his talk about serving all men to heart.

I was on a walk with my girlfriend at the park. A man approached us, he was old, very old and shorter than we were from a hunched back. He was nice, and funny. My friend wanted to leave, but I wanted to keep talking to him. He was so sweet, and he was cute, like old man cute.

“Come on Jennifer we have to be home soon.” I didn’t know what my friend was talking about, neither of us had to be home. But I could tell there was a strain in her voice, and she looked nervous, even though I couldn’t figure out why.

“Well, before you leave,” The old man interjected before I could argue with her. “Why don’t I show you a secret about this park.”

My girlfriend crossed her arms, “A secret?”

“Something only a few people know about this park,” He promised.

I was curious. It was just a park. He led us to bathrooms closest to the entrance road. He led us to the door to the men’s room when my girlfriend stopped. She didn’t want to go in there. I wasn’t worried so I left her outside and followed the man into the men’s room.

I’d never been in a men’s room before. I was kind of bored by how similar it was to the girl’s room, besides the urinals of course. But then the old man showed me a hole in one of the walls of the stalls. When I asked him what it was for, he said he could show me. I went into the stall. When his dick slid through the hole, he told me to suck on it.

I was going to say no, but I remembered what my dad said about how I looked to men. I obediently bent down and swallowed him like my dad told me. His cock was already hard. It wasn’t as big as my dad’s, and it had a similar but unique musk that I appreciated.

He had me strip down naked. I was a little apprehensive about taking my clothes off in a place outside of my house. But I had to behave. I piled my clothes on the sink where he wanted me to. My naked body was screaming in goosebumps.

He was grunting and struggling as he humped into the wall. I stuck my tongue for his wrinkled balls. He hollered as his cock went deeper and deeper down my throat. I still wasn’t a particularly good deep throater like my dad wanted me to be, but it was easier on this man. He told me to swallow, and I did. It was salty and thick and delicious. Then a five-dollar bill slipped through the hole right after his cock pulled out.