“I thought you said it was the biggest.” Maybe it was his age or the video angle, but from what I could see, he was hardly above average.
She nodded, “it is.”
They sat in silence. “You can leave now,” she said quietly, as she started to put her clothes back on. He tried to protest, but she just yelled “Just fucking leave, Kyle.” The obedient little future-pizza-delivery-driver put his clothes on and left. From the video, I could hear myself calling goodnight to him from the couch. It made me hot to know my half naked daughter was a few feet beneath me, dying for an orgasm.
I quietly went downstairs and took away the iPod. I sat in the dark of the study after I’d safely password-protected the video and tucked it away. My daughter wanted three things: an oversized penis, a man who knew how to use it, and someone she could control. I went to sleep, dreaming of her bouncing tits over those smooth abs. I was obsessed.
The next morning at work, I made a perverse connection. All my years of utilizing competitive intelligence left me with one conclusion: I had what my daughter needed. I was endowed, I knew I could get her off, and if there’s one thing you can control, it’s a perverted father who’s put his cock inside you. She could run to her mother if I didn’t do things her way, yet I had to make sure she didn’t feel taken advantage of…that it was in her interest to not turn me in, let alone have her feel crushed and ruined. My thoughts went back to my own youth.
My first year in college, just before I met my wife, there’d been a girl. Her name was Alicia, and she was a great little hispanic girl I’d met at a bar. We went back to her place and fooled around, but as I’d take her pants further off, she kept saying how we shouldn’t go further. It got to the point that I was finger banging her, thinking it was all a ruse. When I went for the move to be inside her, she’d pushed me back. Thinking it was a game, I had my cockhead at her pussy lips and pushed forward a bit. That’s when I heard a frank “No, stop. Now.” But I was a drunk horny kid, and I pressed on.
Once I started to penetrate her and stretch her, the protests stopped. I was unsure if I was in the midst of a rape or the best sex of my life. She came, maybe even twice, before we finished. The next day, I called her, hoping she hadn’t called the SWAT team to come throw me in the pen. It winds up she was practically in love with me. We dated for a month before I lost interest, and when I left she fought hard to get me back.
The lesson I learned? When I put my naturally endowed gift in a girl, even if she wasn’t in the mood, even if she thought I was almost assaulting her, I had her hooked. I’d gone my whole life never losing a woman in a relationship. It wasn’t a coincidence.
Dinner that night was a scene from the Twilight Zone. Her mother would ask her about her day at school. Like a perfect schoolgirl from a well-bred home, she responded with articulate answers about how much she enjoyed cheer practice and how great her teachers were. I could see it was all a malaise. A few times she looked at me and mysteriously smiled. I reasoned it was because she was sort of proud to have caught me with my pants down. I knew, beneath it all, she couldn’t stand putting up a front to her mother’s horseshit. She wanted to cum. Knowing what it was like to be a teen, I bet it was all she thought about.
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