Daddy?

I was making the evening meal while my fifteen-year-old daughter was finishing off her homework at the kitchen table.

She let out a deep breath and closed her books.

"All done, Daddy!"

"Well done, sweetheart, I'll be a few minutes yet."

"Daddy?"

"Yes, punkin?"

"Will you sign this permission slip for me? Pretty please?"

"What's it for, honey?"

"I want to join the junior cheerleader squad. All the coolest girls at school are signing up, and I don't want to be left out."

I sighed, and signed. My little girl was sure growing up fast!

She stashed the slip and her books in her school bag and put it by the door, to be ready in the morning.

"You do realise that I'm STILL not going to let you date until you're sixteen, don't you?"

She put on her best pout, despite it not having worked on me for years.

"Aaaawwww! Daaaaddy!"

"Nope! And I want to see the official practice timetable, so I know when I'll have to pick you up from school."

"Okay, Daddy."

I may be overprotective of my little girl, but I have good reason to be.

"Daddy?"

"Yes, punkin?"

"Can I go to a sleepover at Melissa's this Friday? Please?"

"Just let me phone Mrs Willis and check that she's okay with it first."

"Aaaawwww! Daaaaddy!"

"Shall I tell you why I'm checking, honey?"

"Why, Daddy?"

"How old are you, Mary-Lou?"

"Fifteen and one half, but you know that!"

"And how old am I?"

"Errrm – thirty two?"

"Thirty two and four months. So how old was I when you were born?"

She thought for a moment. Mental arithmetic was always more difficult than math at school with a calculator.

"Sixteen years and ten months!"

"Correct. So what age was I when you were conceived?"

"Oh shit! Sixteen and one month!"

I let the bad language pass without the usual challenge. My little girl was about to learn some home truths; she needed to listen closely to what I was saying, without any resentment at being told off for swearing.

"And your mother was nearly a year younger than me, so almost the age you are now. She was at a sleepover with my sister, our parents were away, she was dared to climb into my bed in the middle of the night, and hey presto, we made you!"

"Oh god! I never worked that out!"

I'd had to marry Teresa once everyone realised that she was knocked up, of course, and if the two sets of parents hadn't rallied round and helped us, we'd both have had to drop out of high school. Luckily, we'd been able to keep studying, I'd got myself qualified as a CPA by working as a book-keeper by day, and doing night school and a correspondence course.

Fifteen difficult years later, I now made a good living.

Teresa, though, hadn't been prepared to wait that long for things to get better; she'd run off with a married work colleague ten years before, and left me to bring up Mary-Lou as a single parent. My divorce for desertion went through without any fight, as did the custody order. She didn't get any alimony neither; the judge didn't like mothers who abandoned their children.

I'd never heard from the bitch since, though I still saw a lot of her parents – they'd done nothing wrong, and they adored their granddaughter. They had given me something of a social life whenever they volunteered to have her to stay over, but after Teresa's betrayal I didn't do much serious dating. My ability to trust a woman was gone.

My sister and I hadn't seen eye to eye since then either; once it came out what she and her friends had been up to at sleepovers, she was pretty much grounded until she was eighteen and went off to college. She'd married her college boyfriend and didn't come home much; our parents went to them for Thanksgiving and other holidays, so Mary-Lou had only met her aunt and cousins a couple of times, like at my parents' thirtieth wedding anniversary party.

"That's why I'm calling Mrs Willis to check that it's A-OK with her!"

I went out to a bar for a drink the night Mary-Lou was over at the Willis place; but after a couple of beers I came home. I was in no mood to make the effort to try and get laid, and I was out of practice anyway.

When Mary-Lou returned home the next morning, I told her that I'd missed her, but I was glad she had enjoyed being with her friends. That earned me a hug.

She said that she'd had a real good time at the sleepover; they'd watched girlie movies in their pajamas and chatted for half the night until Melissa's Mom came in and made them turn out the lights.

When I told her that she could invite her girlfriends for a sleepover in return, she squealed with delight, hugged me again, and then looked at the calendar.

I survived the sleepover invasion; was amazed by quite how much junk food and soda a supposedly health-and-figure-conscious bunch of teenage girls could get through, and was rewarded by Mary-Lou with a new willingness to share in the chores. I'd passed some kind of test by allowing her to have her friends over, and she saw it as being treated as more of a grown-up.

I admit that I had found a houseful of teenage girls in pajamas a distraction; they may have been only fifteen, but some of their bodies were more mature than that. I tried not to look more than I had to, telling myself that now I was twice their age they were most definitely jailbait. It was a relief when they were safely out of the house.

She stayed over with Melissa a couple more times; Melissa came to us overnight and for meals as well. I was real pleased that Mary-Lou had found a good friend; it had been kinda lonesome for her as an only child of a single father. Melissa was a nice kid, polite and helpful, and her folks became friends.

"Daddy?"

"Yes, punkin?"

"I'm sixteen next month – so can I start dating?"

I felt my heart drop within my chest.

My little girl was about to be exposed to boys.

I knew what I'd been like at sixteen, a real pussy hound, after anything I could get. That's why I hadn't even bothered to ask Teresa if she was protected; I'd just fucked her because she was in my bed. The first I knew of her being a virgin was the blood on the sheet the next morning. She got knocked up on her first time, poor bitch.

"We REALLY do need to talk first, honey. I don't want you to ruin your life the way your mother ruined hers."

"What do you mean, Daddy?"

"You've had the Sex Ed classes at school, haven't you? I know that they say that you should save yourself until you get married, but trust me, honey, when you get together with a boy who wants to get into your pants, it will be real difficult to refuse. And getting knocked up when you're still at school is bad news. Your Mom never got over it."

"So, what are you saying, Daddy?"

"We're still best friends, hey?"

"Always!"

I got her to sit down on the couch next to me.

"Okay, then let's assume that you are going to have sex at some stage, even though I hate the thought of my little girl growing up so fast, so we'll take you to the doctor and get you a contraceptive implant. Then at least you'll be safe from an accidental pregnancy. But I want you to let me know when things get serious, and then I'll buy you some condoms. There are some nasty STIs out there, and I want you properly protected. THEN you can start dating."

She looked amazed that I had caved so quickly.

"But, honey, first I have to talk to you about love and sex, and the difference between them."

Her face took on that unhappy look that appeared whenever the conversation between us got a bit too serious for her liking. At least she no longer just screamed 'Eeeeeeewww' when I raised the subject of sex.

"Daddy, do we HAVE to?"

I ignored the dangerous impulse to let her remain a child for a while longer; I knew from our own experience how risky ignorance could be.

"If you want to date, then yes we most definitely do."

"Okay then, but I still think that you're not playing fair."

"It's too important to worry about fairness, Mary-Lou. Just sit down again and listen."

It was a real simple lecture. I told her how it is. I just thought of all the lines that I had used to get into girls pants and pussies – like 'you can't really love me if you don't want to make love' – and told her about them.

"Just remember, baby girl, that your hormones will do their darnedest to betray you. They're programed to make you reproduce as much as you can, but these days you do actually have a choice beyond 'just say no'. I'll be the first to admit that sex is great fun, but for you women, there are consequences. We guys just fuck, flee and forget. Your Mom was left holding the baby, but at least I stayed with her. A lot of guys don't."

I don't think she liked seeing that side of me, but hey – it was for her own good. I'd tried real hard not to use the 'F' word in front of her as she was growing up, but now I used it as a normal part of my descriptive vocabulary. That shook her; I didn't use any of the politically correct euphemisms, when I meant 'fuck', I said 'fuck'.

"You know why the boys want to get in your pants?"

She looked unsure as to how she should respond.

"It's because they want to fuck you, and then be able to boast to their friends that they've fucked you. I've been there, baby girl, and that's what teenage boys are all about. Gettin' their dicks wet and then telling everyone how virile they are. Boasting about fucking a girl is even more important than actually doing it."

"Would they really tell everyone?"

"Oh yes, punkin - you know that kids can be cruel, and if a guy can get some kudos by nailing a hot little number like you, then he ain't goin' to keep quiet about it. Some sickos even use Twitter or Facebook to make sure people know they've scored."

She looked more embarrassed that I had described her as 'a hot little number' than surprised.

"I bet you've heard girls at school telling friends about their sexual experiences?"

"Yes, Daddy, I have. I didn't realise that boys did the same."

"They do, punkin, only worse. They'll make things up to make themselves sound even better. If their buddy has touched your tits, then they have to go one better and say they've played stinky finger. It's a bit like raising your bid at poker. You have to really watch out for yourself these days."

She looked upset.

"I've got a headache, Daddy. I'm going to go and lie down for a bit."

"That's fine, sweetie. I'll bring you a drink up in a bit."

I gave her a quick hug, and she went up to her room; I hoped to think more about what I had said, and to realise how it might apply to her.

I booked my daughter in to see our doctor a couple of days later.

I explained to him, despite her blushes, that I had fathered her when I was only a couple of months older than she was now, and he was more than happy to arrange an implant for her. He also got one of his young nurses to explain to her what effects this would have on her body, which spared both of us men the embarrassment.

The bit that I couldn't escape doing myself was showing her a condom. I taught her how to open the pack without damaging the thin rubber with her fingernails, and with the help of a banana from the fruit bowl, I let her find out how to unroll one. It was a real weird feeling; but there are so many STI's out there these days that she needed to know how to protect herself from infection.

I was real proud of her; she took the lesson seriously, and asked some sensible questions.

All too soon, it was the day of her sixteenth birthday. I gave her some simple everyday jewellery, and together we chose some expensive perfume and a smart dress for her at the mall. I even agreed to let her have her ears pierced when she felt ready to wear earrings!

I helped her fill out the application form for her drivers licence, took her to a photo booth, and finished the day by taking her out in her new gown for a formal dinner in a proper restaurant – you know, the type that employs a 'maitre d' just to make you feel inferior. The look on her face as she realised that I was treating her as a grown-up was well worth the money; the food wasn't anything special.

We had her grandparents over for a meal that weekend; there was nothing from her mother, no card, no present.

Teresa's parents gave Mary-Lou the money for some driving lessons; her grandfather warned me that it was NOT a good idea to teach your own daughter how to drive, and much better to pay a professional.

Then I waited to see what Mary-Lou would do about dating.

It was with great relief that I found out that the first boy she was going to date was Eddie Anson. I knew his parents reasonably well, and reckoned that he would show her a decent time without demanding much in return.

I'm not sure which of us was more nervous; Eddie or me. He told me that they were going to the movies, then to the Dairy Queen for some shakes or ices, and then he'd bring her home. I told him that it sounded fine to me.

I didn't tell him that if he laid a finger on my baby I'd beat the shit out of him, but my eyes and mouth probably gave that away.

I paced around the house for every minute that they were away, and the moment his dad's sedan came to a rest in our driveway, I was out there to reclaim my daughter. She gave him a 'thank-you' peck on the cheek, which was fine by me.

It got a bit easier as Mary-Lou went out on more dates, and came back unharmed every time. Eddie Anson was a regular date; they had fun together but it would never be serious. Some boys only got one date, others came and went.

I didn't ask what went on during her dates, and Mary-Lou didn't tell. Most often her lip gloss was smeared or missing when she got home, sometimes her blouse was creased. There were no crusty panties in the washing basket, and I just hoped that I'd given her the sense to avoid the real creeps.

There were often loud giggles when she was talking to her best friend Melissa, and I was glad that my motherless girl had a confidant to share her secrets with, even if it couldn't be me.

"Daddy?"

"Yes, punkin?"

"Can I join the senior cheerleader squad this year?"

I looked again at my daughter.

Now nearly seventeen, she sure was going to be a gorgeous woman. The jocks would be queuing up to date her and the chances were that the competition to fuck her would be intense. And knowing the jocks of her age, it would just be another fuck to them, another notch on their bedhead.

I didn't want my little girl hurt more than she had to be.

I realised that this year I would have to let her have a later curfew; she would be a laughing stock among the other cheerleaders if I insisted she be home by ten. But she'd have to understand why she needed to be careful.

"We need to talk again, honey."

"But Daddy, I haven't done anything more than just make out on my dates. I'm still a virgin!"

"And how many of the senior squad are still virgins?"

The look on her face said it all. She had clearly heard the gossip.

"Let me guess, they're all dating the senior football squad, and they're expected to put out?"

She hesitated.

"Well, yes, Daddy, but I'm almost seventeen, and you said that you wouldn't mind if I had sex."

"Honey, I said that I'd be fine, PROVIDED that you found a nice boy who put you first. These football players have had it way too easy. The girls are falling over each other to get to date them, even knowing that they'll have to give them what they want. What worries me is that these jocks don't give a damn about the girls; they just want to be seen with the prettiest girls in school on their arms, and to be able to boast to each other what they have done with them. And it won't be nice!"

"What do you mean, Daddy?"

"Come and sit down, punkin. You need to hear a few more things that you won't like."

I got her a soda and myself a beer. Then I changed my mind, and fetched her a beer as well. We were going to have an adult conversation, so she might as well have an adult drink. Her eyes went wide when I held it out to her.

"This is beer, Daddy!"

"You're going to have to get used to it sometime, baby girl, and I'd as soon you tried it at home than anywhere else."

We went into my den; I took my big leather desk chair, and moved it round so that I could face the small sofa where my daughter had sat down cross-legged, slowly sipping her beer as she got used to the taste.

I chuckled.

"It's okay, punkin, it took me some time to actually LIKE beer."

She laughed.

"Yeah, it IS a bit sour!"

"Oh, it's worth persevering. Like most good things, it's an acquired taste. You know something, though? I never did get the hang of champagne; beats me how those racing drivers can guzzle it straight from the bottle."

I took a swig from my own beer.

"Mary-Lou, after you were born, your grandparents used to look after you during the day, so that your mother and I could go back to high school and graduate. We didn't do any of the after-school activities any longer, but I had played football and I still had lunch with some of the guys. You'd have been horrified to hear how they boasted of what they had done with their dates, and there wasn't one of the senior cheerleaders who hadn't had sex with most of them. And it was only sex – they swapped partners, they had group sex, and they compared them and what they had done. They didn't give a damn about the girls, they just wanted to fuck. No interest in going steady, it was all about getting their dicks wet."

"Daddy! Language!"

"Sorry pumpkin, but that's what we're talking about here, fucking and being fucked. I'm giving you the boy's perspective, but I'm sure that when you girls are talking amongst yourselves, you're saying the same words."

"So you're saying that dating is going to be different with the senior cheerleaders?"

"You got it, honey. You will be expected to be available for dates any time the jocks ask you, and give out on the first date. A blow job will be the minimum if you want to be asked on another date. They'll be trying to get you drunk at parties so that they can get you on a bed and they and their buddies can take turns with you, and if you won't do it, then they'll find someone who will. And if you do ever let one of them fuck your ass, every jock at the school will know about it after the next session in the changing room."

My daughter's face was pale, and her eyes were wide open. Clearly the girls' locker-room gossip had not told her everything about what to expect. Our earlier talk about boys bragging had not sunk in either.

"Honey, it's not going to be nice having them do that with you. If it's a price you're truly willing to pay to be seen with the go-getters, then do it, but don't ever say that I didn't warn you!"

She seemed about to speak, but then hesitated.

I let her have the time she needed. If she had something important to say, I wanted to hear it.

She took another sip of her beer.

"Arlene said that I'd have to let Ricky Elgood be the first to fuck me if I wanted to make the squad."

That was seriously bad news. I was pissed.

It also explained why she had looked quite so worried a moment ago. Having sex wasn't something in the dim and distant future. It was suddenly rearing its ugly head, and Mary-Lou wasn't quite so confident that she could handle it.

Arlene was the captain of the cheerleaders.

Laura Willis, Melissa's mom, had referred to her as 'Bitchy Rich Bitch The Third' when she pointed her out to me at a school concert, and a rapid look at her and her parents had told me exactly why. It had been a generation since any of that family had actually needed to work for a living, and hearing that Arlene had turned up at school on her sixteenth birthday driving a brand new Mercedes Benz convertible had made one or two people reconsider whether there is actually a God, or just the Devil looking after his own. It was only the repeated cosmetic surgery that stopped her parents getting squints from looking down their noses at the rest of us.

(Don't get me wrong here. I'm as red-blooded American capitalist as the rest of you. I believe in a man being able to keep the fruits of his labors, and reward himself for his efforts. But Arlene's family hadn't done a day's hard work in decades. I'd bet you a hundred that none of them could even make a cup of coffee; without a maid they'd have starved to death in between overpriced restaurant meals. To them, the sidewalk was just something to drive over or park the car on, to save their legs those extra few yards. Come to think of it, Arlene's mother probably couldn't park her convertible without a valet service!)

Ricky Elgood was, of course, the quarterback. He was an All-American piece of horseshit, and owed his place on the team to hefty parental donations to the school, in the same way that he'd get a place at a really good college, which could then ignore his 2.5 GPA. Arlene was his official girlfriend in terms of Prom King and Queen, but from what I'd heard, they were both working their way through the other squad in return for being owed favors in later life. Fraternities and sororities may have their place, but with Ricky and Arlene, they would just be a passport to parasiting off of the rest of us for the whole of their working lives. I could just see Ricky in the State Capitol in thirty years time, if he kept out of jail. Fuckin' slimy sleazeball!

I pulled myself back together. I didn't give a damn what happened to those two, but I did care about my daughter.

"Honey, pull up the office chair next to me. I think we'd better watch a few videos together."

It wasn't difficult to find some material that suited my requirements; typing 'drunken college co-eds' into a search engine showed many matches. Far too many, for my own piece of mind.

"See the word 'drunken', baby girl? That's why I'm going to teach you how to drink beer and hold your liquor, so you don't get into trouble with your first sip of alcohol."

After an hour watching a number of young girls being taken advantage of in their drunken stupor, both Mary-Lou and I had seen more than enough. She was very quiet as she went up to bed, and I suspected that she would be awake much of the night. I hated what I was having to do to her, but she needed to learn that Daddy could only protect her so far; after that it would be up to her.

The next day I took the parental controls off of her tablet and smartphone. Now that she was likely to be dating the footballers, there was little point in stopping her accessing adult material, and she might even learn something to help her.

"Okay, sweetheart, you can date up until midnight, and if you want to fuck your date, you can. But only one boy on a date, and unless I give you permission first, there will be no double dating, no going back to a boys house, and ABSOLUTELY no going to parties when the parents are away. Understood, Mary-Lou?"

Her voice was very quiet.

"Yes, Daddy. Understood."

"And if they offer you alcohol or drugs; you just say 'no'. If they persist, then you ask them to bring you home. And if they get antsy, you call me from your cell, and I'll be straight out to beat their asses."

"Yes, Daddy."

"And get on your tablet and search for 'rohypnol' and 'date rape drugs', you need to be aware of that too."

"Yes, Daddy."

She stayed in her room most of the evening; I got a forced smile when I called in to say 'goodnight'. She wasn't a happy camper. I'd stripped away another layer of her childhood, and I didn't feel great about it myself.

I hated being that severe to my little girl, but she needed to be aware of the dangers. I'd almost been a jock, and I'd know many jocks pretty well; I knew that they'd do -and say - anything for more pussy.

From the way that Melissa looked at me as she left our house a couple of days later after 'surfing the Web' with my daughter, I guessed that they had both had their perceptions changed by what they'd viewed. At least they now had an idea of what they might be getting into with the senior squad.

"Daddy?"

"Yes, punkin?"

"Another beer?"

"No thanks, sweetheart, I'm fine with this one. That was a really great meal you fixed."

"Daddy?"

"Still here, honey!"

"Am I truly your sweetheart?"

"Of course you are! You're my little girl, and you'll always be the one closest to my heart."

"I need a real big favor."

"Anything!"

"Daddy, Arlene told me at school today that I've got a date with Ricky this Saturday, and that if I don't let him fuck me, then I'm off the cheerleading squad."

I stood up as if I had just sat down on a scorpion. The beer bottle went flying.

"Why, the little bitch! I'll have her drummed out of school so quick you won't hear the screams!"

She put her fingers on my lips. I slowly sat down again in my chair.

"Get real, Daddy, the amount of money her old man gives the school means that I'll be the one expelled."

Mary-Lou did have a point. They say that money talks; it doesn't – it SHOUTS.

"I'm going to have to let him fuck me, and then he'll lose interest and make the moves on someone else. The principal would never believe me if I complained, and Coach will always back up his blue-eyed boy. Whose parents do you think are sponsoring the team away bus this season?"

"Can't we say that you're sick?"

"No, Daddy, I'll have to do it. But will you still do me the favor?"

"Of course, sweetie, anything at all, I promise. Hit me with it, baby."

She swallowed before looking at me strangely.

"Okay, Daddy, here it comes. Remember, you promised. It looks like I'm gonna be losing my cherry by next Sunday no matter what. I want to be able to remember losing my virginity as a pleasurable thing, not with that moron in the back of his dad's sedan. I want YOU to be my first, so that Ricky isn't. There's no-one else I trust to do that for me. Will you? Please?"

Oh shit.

I REALLY hadn't seen that one coming. I felt like a dinosaur might have felt when it spotted that asteroid coming down to hit earth, if dinosaurs had enough brain to have feelings.

She saw the panicked look on my face, and her voice took on a real pleading tone.

"You promised, Daddy? Pleeeassseee?"

I swallowed hard in my turn, forcing a smile onto my face.

"Okay, baby girl, I promised. I'm not happy about it, but I'll do it. Just let me think for a while."

"Are you mad at me?"

"No, sweetheart, I'm not mad at you one little bit. I just need to think some."

I went into my den, shut the door, and enlisted the help of my friend Jack to do some thinking. Mr Daniels always helps my creative side, and after only twenty minutes I had a plan.

"Mary-Lou?"

"Yes, Daddy?"

"Come and tell me what you think of this."

My daughter sat down on the sofa in the den, once again tucking her legs under her in the way a mere man can't.

I picked up my pad.

"Okay, baby girl, this is what we're going to do."

When I had finished explaining, she clapped her hands in glee and bounced around the room.

"Dadddeee, I LOVE IT!"

So the two of us changed into our robes, with no pajamas, and I sat on the big sofa with my daughter sitting on my lap while we watched one of her favorite chick-flicks, sharing a bottle of beer. I kept my arms around her, and every so often kissed the back of her neck or caressed her hair. Nothing too overtly sexual, just loving being together. It was the last evening of her innocence, and we enjoyed it.

The movie over, we went up to my bedroom, and stripped off our robes on the count of three.

Mary-Lou was able to see for the first time the body part of mine that had been sticking into her butt for the last hour and a half. It was rearing up from my groin as if it didn't want to be overlooked.

In my turn, I was viewing her bare-assed naked for the first time in several years, and my dick was most certainly appreciating the changes in her since then. She was the first nude female it had seen in the flesh for several years, though I had beaten my meat to porn videos often enough.

"God, baby girl, you're absolutely beautiful!"

She beamed – she could tell from the hint of surprise in my voice that I meant it.

"Thanks, Daddy! Gosh, that thing's huge! Are you sure that it will fit in me?"

"We'll find out tomorrow, punkin. Firstly, let's see if you remember how to put on a condom. You need to be sure for Saturday."