Chapter 14

Tuesday, 28 August 2018

I had dinner just about ready (a rice and chicken casserole) when Dad got home. He made me happy by walking to me, putting his arms around my waist from behind, and kissing the top of my head.

“Oh, Dad. Are we ... being something like ... husband and wife?”

“Em, I love you and I ... love this new relationship we have, but I’m not sure it’s a husband-and-wife relationship. However, I’ll admit it has ... many aspects of that. Usually, though, the wife doesn’t ask all of her many, many attractive friends to sex up her husband.”

“Well, there probably are very few wives who want her many, many friends to take her husband whenever they want. However, there probably also aren’t many who have husbands who love being taken by women whenever those girls want.”

“There is that.”

Perhaps three-fourths through the meal, I told him, “Liya and Gracey can visit after practice on Thursday. Can you get an hour or so for lunch with us here?”

“I can get two if they need it.”

I just looked at him for a bit, my heart filling with more love for him. I’ve written it here before, but I’ll write it again: It’s amazing how differently I feel about Dad now, after I got him to understand how he was hurting me. Now, it’s almost like the hurting never happened. I can still vividly remember that hurting, so I know it’s true, but, oddly, that gets me loving him at least a tiny bit more, because I can still remember clearly how he had been ... and how ... loving he is, now.

I must have been staring at him too long, as he asked, “Em?”

“Sorry, Dad. I was just thinking about how much better our relationship is, now.” A couple of thoughts went whizzing through my head, so I added, “Dad, I hope we still have this relationship ... or something very like it when I’m 20 ... or even older.”

“That’s mostly up to you, Hon. You’ll be...”

I cut him off, asking, “Did you just call me an affectionate name, something you might call your girlfriend?”

“Did I?”

“You said, ‘That’s mostly up to you, Hon.’”

“Huh. I guess so. I ... don’t remember ever using that term before.”

“But does that mean you ... want me around ... like for a while, maybe a long time?”

“I know I want you around for more than just a short time. You’re my daughter, and I love you. But, maybe, I’m developing some ... different feelings for you, although I’m sure lots of dads call their daughters, ‘Hon,’ without thinking of them as lovers.”

“But ... do you ... think of me as ... a lover?”

He looked at me, then started somewhere I didn’t expect.

“Em, I think I need to tell you more about my past so you can see what I was capable of. I was not a saint.”

“Dad, I know that. While you haven’t given any details at all, you’ve certainly told me that.”

“And I’d prefer not to give you details, but I feel I should offer this. I’ll tell you whatever about my past you feel you need to know. But please realize that the thought of telling you some of my past causes fear inside me. I need you to know that I’m being level with you ... in all things. I need you to know that because ... you’re the first ... girl that I’ve not thought of as here for me to get what pleasure out of I could and then move on. Em, that was my life until you were born. When your mom put you in my arms, although I didn’t detect it then, what I wanted from life began changing. While the rate of change was slow, very slow, it was change.” He breathed in, then said, “Then that horrible night happened, the night I did something truly despicable, more despicable, even, than other things I’d done to ... girls. I allowed that woman to have sex with me in your mother’s bed.

“A ... few days after she left, I realized that I missed her, that I had real feelings for her. While I doubt those feelings were love, they were more romantic than any I’d had before ... or since ... until very recently.”

He shook his head hard, then said, “You’re not the first 15-year-old girl I’ve had sex with, but I’m not at all sure how many there’ve been in my past. When I was an older teenager, say... 17 to 19, 15- and 16-year-old girls were ... the best ... targets. They were almost completely inexperienced and so ... susceptible to assholes like me: Pretty boys who could be cool, even suave with them. I got out of them what I wanted, which was, sometimes, more than I expected to get, and I was never nice about it when they realized that I was in it just for the sex.

“Honey ... Em ... I want you to understand what I was, because there are guys out there right now who are exactly like I was. I now know, Em, that girls deserve respect, deserve receiving love for love. And, since I saw it when I was younger, I am now surprised, looking back on that fateful night how I didn’t see that what I was ... was what was in Marian, your mom’s friend. She was ruthless at getting what she wanted, and I fell for it because of ... how I am.

“Em, I’ll tell you anything about me you want to know so, please...”

I cut him off, “Dad, I doubt I’ll need to know all the sordid details of your past. So long as this dad is the dad I get for the rest of my life, I’ll be quite happy, much happier than I was two weeks ago.” I paused while I looked into his eyes, knowing that it was the time to tell him what I’d recently learned about myself, so started, “Dad, I’ve found that I love sex. I love having my guys’ cocks in me. I love how it makes me feel when I’m riding Brett’s cock. I love having Seamus bend me over the edge of the bed and fuck me from behind. I love taking your cock into my pussy and fucking myself on it. Dad, I really love sex.

“I’m telling you this because, yesterday, I found myself going crazy with Brett and Seamus and suddenly realized two things. The first could be bad, and that’s because it came to me that I was so hot that I’d have taken any penis into me right then and right there. That scared me, because I don’t want to be a slut, have sex with any guy just to get a cock inside me.”

Dad’s face had gone a bit pale at my words, so I added, “I told the guys right then that I was happy I’d started with sex in a safe situation and with a perfectly safe guy ... or two. I also made a vow to myself right then that I would have sex with guys only if the guy or guys were you or any guys the LA has or ... has access to. I trust them implicitly, the LA, and they have two great guys, guys I don’t have to worry about. There’s a ... corollary to that; please remind me if I forget to come back to it.

“The second thing I realized requires a bit of ... stage setting.” I quickly had a conversation with myself inside my head, coming to agreement with myself, so said, “Dad, the LA has a business, one that makes pretty good money. And they need to expand that business because they’ve got a lot of girls to support for a very long time. I ... agreed to ... help them.” Since I didn’t want him to have to ask what the business was, I stated, “I agreed to be a model for them.”

“You’re more than lovely enough to be a model. At least some of this may be the dad overly proud of his daughter, but I think you’re lovely. You’re also long and lanky, which I understand is a feature appreciated by those using models.”

“Thanks, Dad, but I doubt you’re thinking of the kind of model I’ll be ... the kind ... I’ve been.” He looked confused, so I said, “Their business is a photography business, the main target of it being the erotic-photos market.” He began to respond, but I held up both hands and added, “They also sell photos in a few other markets, including the sex-photo market. Dad, when I was having sex with Brett and Seamus yesterday, Rache and Lana took photos the whole time.”

“I ... don’t know ... what to ... say to that, how to respond. I guess, I’ll start with, ‘Did you enjoy it?’”

I’m not sure why his question so surprised me, but I think it did so because I expected ... something like anger or, worse, disappointment. How did I suddenly find myself in a situation in which I would be hurt if my father were disappointed in me when I was recently so scared of him, so angry with him?