When I got to Dad’s apartment, I was soaked to the skin. He answered the door and looked at me like, what the hell?

“Mom threw me out,” I said, before he could ask.

“Well, don’t just stand there. Come inside.”

So I went inside and just stood there, dripping on his carpet. He helped me off with my jacket, took it to the bathroom to dry, and came back with a couple of towels. I was already getting out of my wet jeans. My panties were so soggy they came off when I tugged the jeans down, and Dad got a peek at my butt before he threw one of the towels over my back. I tucked it around my waist while he knelt down and pulled my jeans off. The panties were wadded up inside. Dad dried my feet and my legs with the other towel. Then he stood up and rubbed it into my hair.

“Why didn’t you call?” he said. “I would have picked you up.”

“I forgot my stupid phone.”

Just then the lightning went zzzzt! in the courtyard and the thunder went boom! right outside the door. I screamed and threw myself into his arms.

“Shh, shh-hhh,” he said. “It’s all right. It’s just thunder. It can’t hurt you.”

But I kept shaking. He held me tighter and kissed me on the head. I was glad it was raining and my face was already wet, so he couldn’t see my tears. I cried because the thunder scared me, and more because, now that I was safe with Daddy, I could let it all out about Mom.

“Go take a shower,” he said. “We’ll talk when you come out.”

The hot water felt good, but my pussy felt better. It was still swollen from when my boyfriend fingered me, and the slick tube gripped my finger as I pushed deep inside. I held myself up with one hand against the tiles, facing the shower. The water pattered on my tits, my hard nipples, and — oh, God, showers echo. I’ll bet Daddy heard me moaning through the walls.

He was in the kitchen when I came out. I went into the bedroom naked and threw on one of his old T-shirts. It was long on me, and I didn’t need bottoms. I keep some clothes at his place, and I had some dry panties, but the way I was feeling, I didn’t bother with them. I was really aware, too, of the way my titties stood up and jiggled under the shirt, and how it hung on my butt and whisked against my crotch when I walked.

I went into the kitchen. Dad was at the counter making tea. I hugged him from behind and kissed him on the back. I was grateful to be there with him, warm and safe and out of the rain, and nobody yelling at me.

“I called your mother and told her you’re going to spend the night,” he said.

“What did she say?”

“Not much. Just that my daughter is a slut.”

“I am not.”

“I know,” he said.

He took one of my hands from his chest and kissed it. Then he poured me a cup of tea. It was cranberry vanilla, my favorite comfort drink.

“Here,” he said, and he unlocked my arms. “Fix it how you like it.”

I stirred in three sugars, and we went and sat on the sofa. Dad waited for me to settle into my corner and sip my tea before he said, “So what did you do?”

“Nothing.”

“Really?”

“It wasn’t bad.”

“So was it nothing, or was it nothing bad?”

I took another sip, and a deep breath.

“She caught me fooling around.”

“With who?”

“This guy.”

“You know you could be a little more forthcoming. Is this guy your boyfriend?”

“Kind of.”

“Kind of. How far did he get?”

“He had his hand down my pants.”

“There we go,” he said.

“You’re not mad?”

“No. Not even disappointed. It’s something we all go through. I’m surprised your mom got mad.”

“There was something else.”

“He was unzipped, too?”

“Yeah.”

“And you —?”

“I had it in my hand, OK?”

“You poor kids,” he said. “She comes in just when it was getting good. Come here.”

I put my tea down and snuggled against him. I folded my legs on the couch, and the shirt came up my thighs. I had to tuck the tail into my crotch to keep my pussy from showing. Dad watched the whole operation. He put his arm around me and ran his hand up my side — in an affectionate, fatherly way. He had on just a sweatshirt and sweatpants, and it was obvious he wasn’t wearing underwear, either. At least I could cover my pussy. He couldn’t hide what was sticking up now.

“Was that your first time?” he asked.

“We’ve kissed before.”

“But that’s all?”

“Was I bad?”

“Of course not. It just means you’re growing up. But you’ve got to be careful.”

“About what?”

“About your mother, for one thing. Getting pregnant, for another. And how nice a guy is this kid? Is he going to brag to his friends?”

“He’s pretty nice.”

“Kids should have a way of learning about sex without all the risk.”

“Like how?”

“It used to be called waiting until marriage. But that never worked either. Civilization is six thousand years old. If the problem hasn’t been solved by now—”

That’s my Dad. If I’d let him, he’d have gone on like that for a half hour without getting to the point. I had just learned a great new way to get guys to shut up, and now seemed like the right time to use it. I was holding him by the shoulder, with my arm across his chest. All I had to do was let go, and my hand dropped to his lap.

“Sweetie, you shouldn’t do that,” he said.

“Want me to stop?”

I rolled my open hand around on his pants. He was solid under there.

“I mean, I’ll stop if you want,” I teased him. “All you have to do is say stop. Say stop, Daddy.”

But all he came out with was like a choking gurgle.

“Come on, say it,” I said. “Stuh ... ahh ... puh!”

I blew the last syllable into his ear. I was pressing harder, rolling his dick around in the soft sweats. No way he was going to say it.

“Can you teach me?” I said.

“You ... already ... seem to know ... a lot.” But he was tugging at the back of my shirt — his shirt — pulling it up over my ass. I lifted my knee and showed him my curly thatch, and the swollen lips underneath and the two fleshy bulbs that poked out at the top.

His hand was so soft, so expert. He knew how to touch a girl better than my boyfriend did. He worked me open gently. I gave him plenty of help, because I was gushing lube out my hole, and when he got through to my bare my clit, it was covered with oil. His fingers circled around it, smearing the goo around, slipping and sliding. It’s a tiny thing, but it felt bigger than it ever had before.

Daddy pulled my shirt higher, until it was stretched over my tits. They were just big enough to hold it up. Daddy took one of my nipples into his mouth. He kind of curled his lips back over his teeth and bit down through them, licking at the same time. This was new, and fucking amazing. My boyfriend had felt under my bra, but he hadn’t got my tits out before Mom caught us.

I pulled the shirt off over my head, and that’s when he went to work. He slid down to the floor — my hand came off his cock — and let me stretch out on the couch. My body was laid out for him like a buffet.

First course was my tits, naturally. Daddy loved my tits. He must have, because he spent so much time kissing and licking and sucking them. He went from one to the other, squeezing them to puff up my nipples, and putting them in his mouth. My nipples got so hard I thought they’d pop.

And all the time he was massaging my pussy. I was a drooling mess down there, and it was easy for him to get two fingers in. He pushed deep, stretched me in every direction, then pulled out and dragged his fingers over my clit and went back in and moved around and pulled out again ... My head was spinning like fuck.