Keep it in the Family by Fyre
Part One
"Your father did what?"
"You heard me. That’s why we moved here. My mother had to get away from him. We stay with my grandparents now. "
"But. . . " I didn’t know what to say. What was there to say?
My father would never. I tried to think of him, in his suspenders, with his cautious ways, coming into my room at night. I couldn’t imagine.
"Where was your mother?"
"She had a job at the theater. Worked nights. "
"What about your brother?"
"Steven? Asleep. Or playing Nintendo. "
"And your father.
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. . he would just come into your room. . . and. . . and. . . "
"Shhhh!" Tami glared at me. "I can’t talk about it here. " We were in the school library.
"That’s probably the worst part of it," she hissed, "everyone fucking knows.
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Everyone. My mother. My grandmother. My uncles, some of my cousins. The principal knows. Most of the teachers know. Everyone looks at me so funny. I’m constantly under a microscope. "
"Tami, are you seeing a counselor?"
"When we can afford it. Mom doesn’t have a job right now. "
"Shit. "
"Shit what?"
"Just shit that it happened to you like that. Just shit. That’s all. " I was outraged.
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"Well I didn’t tell you because I wanted you to get all concerned," she said, keeping her voice low to calm me down. "I thought you were my friend, Marla. I told you because I thought you cared about me and would want to know. "
"I do. Thanks. "
Tami was 18, but she was still finishing high school. Couldn’t blame her, I guess. If my father was banging me at night when my mom left for work. . . I don’t know if I’d be staying on top of my homework so well either.
Tami was a worrier. She already drank two or three cups of black coffee a day and she smoked. She somehow had a steady boyfriend, and she’d just moved here. Sometimes the girls that move into these small towns.
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. . well. . . no one notices them for awhile. Especially in high school. But Tami had a sweet way to her. And a nice, compact little body. If anything, she was too thin.
If she couldn’t stand men because of what her father’d done, how come she already had a boyfriend?
I couldn’t wait to ask more about it. I mulled it over for days. I imagined her father being some sort of dark, icky guy, like Louie in the TV sit-com Taxi. I imagined him coming into the room. .
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. he must have been drunk or something. Fucking your daughter just wasn’t normal. That just wasn’t okay. My father would never. Never.
But I’d never really thought about it. And when I did, I couldn’t really picture my DAD. Maybe my uncle. Uncle Jimmie was the cutest and he was only eleven years older than I was. But my dad? Never.
When I couldn’t sleep at night, I thought about how that must have been for Tami. I thought about just sitting in my room, finishing my homework, or reading, or trying to exercise, and whoops!–the door just swung open. I couldn’t imagine my dad come walking in-- me on my beanbag chair--and him whipping out his dick. "I need you to suck me off, Kiddo.
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"
Blech! Blech! Blech! How fucking desperate. How pathetic! I mean, show some fucking self- control. But maybe I didn’t understand.
I was dying to ask more questions. I asked Tami to come over one Friday after school, and I waited until the house was empty.
"Tami, how old were you when it started?"
"Well it really didn’t start just on one certain day. It was over a period of time. I realize now, he was setting it up for awhile. You understand? He orchestrated it. "
"What do you mean?"
"He waited till I got my period. He waited till I had a steady boyfriend. He thought David and I were already doing a little messing around. He used that as collateral. "
"Didn’t you get along with your Mom? How come you couldn’t tell her?"
"No, I don’t really get along with my mom. She was constantly on my case.
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My dad always took up for me. I needed him in my court. Otherwise, Mom would have me doing a bunch of housework, I was constantly on restriction for the smallest little thing, and I never had any money. Dad would intervene. "
"Do you think your mom knew? Even subconsciously?"
Tami shrugged. Her forehead had a permanent wrinkle. "I doubt it. But it’s like she did finally find out, when she found out the truth, well she was pissed. And she was pissed at me. "
"At you?" I was amazed. "But you didn’t do anything. You were a victim. If he orchestrated things to make it happen, then you didn’t have a chance. You’re the kid. He’s the adult.
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He’s supposed to have your best interests at heart. "
"Marla, I think he did think he had my best interests at heart. He was. . . he was. . . like training me. "
"Training you?"
"Yah. He would come in and he’d be all interested in whatever I was doing. A permanent fan. He’d sit on the edge of my bed. I have a lot of stomach problems, and he’d get me a heating pad, or he’d help me make sure I got through my homework. But he’d have these little ‘lessons’ that he’d want me to know about.
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He was trying to train me to be a good. . . Oh I can’t explain. "
Tami didn’t want to talk about it. Of course she didn’t want to talk about it, but I couldn’t leave it alone. My mind strayed to possible scenarios constantly. If she wasn’t going to tell me the torrid details, my imagination would fill in the blanks.
I was sanding down my dresser. I wanted to refinish it, paint it blue and black, so it would match my bedspread when I went to college next year. It gave me hours of time to think and kept me busy. My mind was constantly in the gutter, trying to imagine some of the things Tami had explained. She said her father was trying to train her. Train her how?
I imagined Tami in her room, trying to finish an English assignment, and in walks her dad. For some reason, I pictured him with a lot of body hair, a hairy chest, a beard, and thick hair on his arms.
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Or maybe he was as lean as Tami. Then he’d be all skinny, but if he got wet, his hair would just fluff all out after it dried and he’d look like some kind of dark leprechaun. With a dick. With a dick with an attitude. He obviously had some kind of mission. Maybe Tami’s mom didn’t put out. Then he felt justified in going to Tami. After all, she said he waited till she was mature, and having her period. That showed some patience.
What would that be like to have him use her intimacy with the boyfriend as leverage? Her dad would walk in, say "I understand that you and David are getting a little too close. Is he fucking you??"
"No, Daddy, of course not. "
"How far have you gotten? I need to know. You’re my daughter. I’m worried about you. "
"All he’s done, Daddy, is some kissing.
"
"Are you sure that’s all?"
"Well one time, I let David feel my breasts. "
I could imagine Tami’s dad start getting a boner just thinking about David feeling on his daughter’s small breasts.
"What else?"
And Tami’s dad would bait her, listening for her sins. Listening to how experienced she might be getting. Waiting for his moment to spring on her.
Maybe in those years while he waited for the conditions to be right, he would go stand by her bed while she slept in the dead of night. . . "One day, Baby. . . One day you’ll be right.
You’ll be ready. " And he would jack off into her hair. When she woke up in the morning, her hair would be all stuck together and she would worry that she drooled in her sleep.
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Wow. If you start peeling back the layers, it got very complicated very fast. She said her daddy was trying to train her. What did that entail?
Tami’s dad would come into the room. She was feeling sick, and held the hot water bottle to her tummy. He started rubbing her shoulders. "Oh Honey, let me unbutton your shirt. You must be so uncomfortable. . . " and the rubbing on the shoulders would ease around to her waist. He’d be behind her, getting hard, wanting to keep her facing the other way not to see it. Or maybe turning her and hoping she’d notice.
"Oh Daddy," she’d say, "what’s that?"
And then he’d say, "Oh Baby, if you’re sick, maybe I can get your nightgown and you can just go to bed. " He’d hand her a shortie nightgown and step out of the room while she changed, maybe leaving the door ajar, and trying to see in.
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Trying to catch the sight of her pretty ass, her pussy with just a brush of color across it. Then he’d come back in, and this time when he started rubbing her shoulders, he’d edge down and start rubbing the muscles in her ass cheeks, rubbing her thighs. "Oh Baby, just get a little more comfortable. Can you roll over?"
And the bottle of lotion would get squeezed on her belly, where it was sore, and he’d massage her cramps, then up a little, up a little more, across her breasts. He’d stroke and rub those pretty little breasts and then back across her stomach to her pubic bone, and see her pubes jutting out from the elastic on her panties. And he’d shift himself on the bed beside her, trying to keep his erection at bay. Did he think it was wrong? Or did he feel justified? He’d brought her into the world, and it must have totally fucked him up to imagine some young boy opening those trim thighs and breaking her hymen. He wanted to do it himself! He wanted to be the one.
So how did she put it? He started training her. The massages, well they must have wandered lower and lower. "Honey, I just want to teach you to feel good. I just want you to understand your body. . . let me show you something special.
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Let me show you something about your pretty pussy. You want to let David touch you? Well, Baby, let me show you something you need to know about yourself. . . "
And there in the dark, while her mother’s away at work and her brother was asleep, he started showing her little tricks. He had to train her that this was okay. That this would be their little secret. "Let me show you what a man looks like, Honey. " And he’d take his penis out. "You want to touch it a little? You want to see what it looks like when it’s hard? Want to make it grow?"
What would the lessons be like? "Oh Tami, this week, I want you to learn to stroke my dick better. I want to teach you to hold a plug in your ass. That’s a good girl," he’d say. "Oh yes, that’s a good, sweet girl. "
Then when she wanted something, "Oh Daddy, would you get me that stereo?" How could he refuse? Fuck. I’d never thought of that.
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I never thought of the power she’d have. I mean, how could her mother make her do anything? After all, Tami knew first hand that her mom didn’t cut the mustard, at least not when it came to fucking her daddy. Tami was the one he wanted. Tami was the one he came to at night. Tami’s was the pussy that he licked and the face that he imagined sucking on his cock. And anytime she wanted to, Tami could lord that over her mother. Shit.
I finished sanding my dresser when I realized how much power there had to be to be fucking your father and having it be the big dark, dirty secret that no one would face, and using it for getting whatever you wanted. If your mom said no, you could wear your daddy down. It would eventually happen.
What a thought. I tried to imagine my father, standing by my bed, urging me to suck his cock, maybe even holding my head to help "train" me to get the pace right. The way he liked it. I went to the closet to get the vacuum. I put on the small attachment brush and started the motor.
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I stooped over and the hose started picking up the dust and residue.
Thinking about Tami and her daddy was turning me on! I mean, I was celibate, I hardly ever masturbated, because it just didn’t seem right to do it all by myself. But in comparison, Tami was a mature, knowledgeable lover. He must have lain between her legs and showed her how it felt to have her cunt licked and slathered. Her daddy must have showed her different positions. Maybe she even learned how to cum!
I wanted some of that. I put the vacuum hose to my pussy and felt the suction through my jeans. I sat on a stool and parted my legs. The nozzle sucked and sucked on my pussy through my clothes. I could feel a rush from the vibrations and the suction, but the loud whirr of the motor distracted me from enjoying the full sensation. I should learn how to masturbate better. I should teach myself how to cum.
Would Tami teach me? I thought about that for a moment, but no. She was obviously very bitter. Her experience broke her family up.
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Everyone had to move. Her mom was up here, unemployed and desperate. Her dad was somewhere in L. A. , maybe sending money. Maybe calling. Maybe trying to convince them to come back home.
I turned off the vacuum. I went into the bathroom and locked the door. I took off my pants and I peed into the toilet. What if her father used to follow Tami into the bathroom to "train" her a better way to pee? A way to build her muscles, so she’d be a better fuck? I imagined him standing by the toilet with a stopwatch. "Okay, Honey. Go. Stop. Go.
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Stop. Hold it five seconds. Hold it ten. Good job Honey. Let me watch you pee. " Maybe he even wanted her to pee on him. Maybe he wanted her to piss in his drunk, hairy mouth? And he’d lay there in the bathtub, with her squatting above his face, squirting on his tongue, with his hand on his rock hard dick, stroking it. "Watch daddy, Baby. Watch daddy cum!" No privacy in that house.
Gee. Tami knew what her father looked like when he came. She knew what he sounded like when he shot his load into her tight virgin pussy. She knew what positions he preferred. Had he let her sit on him and ride his cock? Or were their liaisons all done in the dark of night, with the covers pulled over his back and the bed barely squeaking? "Oh, oh, oh, oh. .
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. "
And what if Tami liked it? I mean, really.
I thought about all those things he must have done to her, massaging her breasts, rubbing her pussy, those were all things that gave me pleasure. Why wouldn’t they give her pleasure? Even if she wanted to think about her boyfriend during the experiences, wouldn’t it still feel good? What if her daddy wasn’t a gross dark leprechaun, but instead had rock hard pecs and was all tanned from working outside all day and he came into her room after showering and all he wanted her to do was to love the way he touched her? What if every stroke was a stroke of passion, a flick of a tongue seeking the right place? What if her daddy was oh-so gentle sticking it in that very first time, so gentle, that it didn’t even hurt? Then when they got to be more seasoned, there were rapid fuck sessions in the bathroom, the door locked while Tami’s brother played Nintendo in the TV room. No hiding your sexuality from your parents, well at least not your father. No hiding in your room, trying to muffle your moaning when you try to find the right spot, try to hit it right, so you can finally cum.
And if the homework didn’t get completed on time, what’s he gonna say? Oh but Daddy, you remember that night, don’t you? You were the reason I didn’t study. . . You were up to your balls in my cunt. Doggy style. Dontcha remember? And oh, you don’t want me to tell Mother, now do you? So just sign my report and I’ll take it back to school. Mama doesn’t need to know.
Oh the power.
Maybe it wouldn’t be so bad.
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I ran water into the tub and undressed. I settled in, the water shifted back and forth, lapping at my pussy, licking at my boobies. I wanted a little of that freedom to be sexual. "Ah hell, Dad, can you blame me for wanting a good ass fucking? You made me this way. "
At least at my house, everything was private. Everyone was quiet. I sometimes heard the bed squeak a little in their room, but it never lasted long. Fucking had to last longer than that, didn’t it? Maybe my parents screwed in the daytime while I was at school. Sometimes they were both home when I got home. Maybe that’s what they were up to.
I gulped air and ducked completely under water. My hair floated around my head like seaweed. My breasts felt all funny, supported by the water–like they didn’t know how to react to gravity. I scooted down as close to the faucet as possible, my knees up and I directed the water so it cascaded on my pussy. I closed my eyes and let the sensations happen.
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What if my daddy was there, guiding me through those feelings? "Just let it happen," he’d say in his patient way, "We’ve got all the time in the world. "
It would be a lot different learning how to be your daddy’s lover. A lot different from the tussle in the backseat of the Pontiac, thinking, "Hurry, hurry, hurry, I’m gonna miss curfew. " What if Tami’s daddy sometimes slept in her bed? Or she in his? And maybe there were times when she came to him and said, "Oh Daddy, let me show you what I learned. I’ve been holding this butt plug in my ass all afternoon, waiting for you to come home. Want to take it out?" And daddy could ease the plug out of her tight, sweet, obedient ass, and then have her suck him wet, then glide his dick into her bum. No one any wiser. She wouldn’t even have to try to get away with sex on her dates, she could save it all for daddy. Especially if he was coming into her room a couple times a week. And oh, if she did have sex with her boyfriend, David, and her daddy came in after their date and she was all sloppy from David’s cum, would her Daddy get mad, or just get off thinking of that young man, being so mistaken that he had exclusive use of that cunt?
Christ. What would it be like to have sex a couple times a week? Fuck. What sweet relief. I would be lucky to pull it off a couple times a year. Boys at this age were so unpredictable, and I wasn’t on their "cheerleader and whore" list of girls they wanted to notch on their belts. I was more of a quiet type, who finished her book reports and helped in the cafeteria.
Mom said boys would never appreciate me at this age.
But Daddy would. As I lay there, the water up around my ears, I could well imagine how tender my daddy would be if he decided to teach me how to make love. How he would hold his big cock, trying to insert it carefully in my mouth, so I could learn to glide up and down it with my mouth. He’d teach me how to hold my mouth to make sure my teeth didn’t rake against the shaft. He would tell me how hard to suck so it’d be nice for him, not just grunt like a boy my age. He’d let me learn at my pace. He’d leave an extra twenty on my dresser if I needed to buy a new blouse for school. And we’d both make sure Mom never knew. Never.
My fingers found my clit, and I started rubbing it, arching up a little so it wasn’t underwater, all waterlogged. I liked it moist, but not soaking. If I was Tami, I wouldn’t even have to jack off. I’d just wait till dark, and my Dad would come in, all willing, all ready, and I would show him how good I could be. "Oh there you are.
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I was hoping you weren’t too tired. Can you show me again how to ride you on top? I was practicing my squats and want to see if I can last longer this time. "
Wow.
I soaked in the tub awhile, playing with my pussy. I was really turned on, but not turned on by the thought of masturbating, which I didn’t usually find all that satisfying. I was turned on by the thought of hot, forbidden penetration. I was hot with the thought of having my father open my thighs, check to make sure I was just wet enough, just the way I liked it, and glide his rock hard dick inside my vagina. I liked the thought that he’d created that pussy, that he’d sent the X chromosome to my mother’s egg so I would be a girl. He’d made it. Maybe he’d break it.
I decided to find out.
.
