“OK. I’ll admit it. CJ is pretty impressive,” Daddy said, clearing the dinner dishes from the table.
I smiled. I knew Daddy would like CJ if he met him. My dad has been pretty critical of the boys I’d hung out with in the past. I knew he thought none of them were good enough for me. Typical, I guess, for dads to feel that way.
CJ did a good job handling Daddy’s surgically precise questions, answering truthfully but not offering any unsolicited information. So Daddy found out that CJ worked for his father, but not that he was a gazillionaire. I knew I’d have to find a way to let him know about their money, though, and quickly. CJ offered a tepid invitation to “return the favor” by having dinner at HIS house soon.
“Well, I’m glad you think so. I really like him,” I told Daddy, putting the dishes in the dishwasher.
“I do….” Daddy started. “But I’m not a fan of wondering where you are or what time you’re planning on coming home.”
“So sorry,” I said sincerely. “I wasn’t paying attention to the time. I go to school, then work… it’s a lot sometimes,” playing the sympathy card in my hand.
Daddy softened his tone, replying, “I have never set a curfew for you. And you always get good grades, managing school and work really well. Just, please communicate more with me.”
“Thank you,” I beamed. That was easy, I thought.
“Not going to say anything about him being quite a bit older than you. I know everybody sees you as older than you really are. But there’s a great big world out there, and I’d like you to see it, OK?” Daddy advised, walking over to me and putting his hands on my shoulders. “I’m trusting you, Sweetheart… to make good decisions.”
My heart sank. Daddy trumped my sympathy card with a quadruple-point guilt card. Well played, sir. I had zero regrets for my decision to have sex with CJ. It wouldn’t have mattered how old I was. Outside of marriage, Daddy wasn’t ever going to be OK with someone doing that to his little girl. His expectations weren’t unrealistic, though. My 21st-century dad knows casual sex happens in that “great big world, out there.”
I like your dad. Thanks for introducing me, CJ texted.
I propped myself up against the headboard on Daddy’s bed, next to him, a familiar setting for us, as we watched TV. As usual, I lived inside my phone, in between “uh huh’s” and “hmm’s” issued from me at precise moments in our obligatory dialog.
I didn’t have to be there, of course. Daddy wouldn’t have cared either way. But being close to him has always been comfortable for me. It’s been just Daddy and me for so long. Spending time alone in my room just felt isolating and sad. Still though, I thought, it’s not like I want to chit-chat about the falling stock market or how fucked up that Jeffrey Epstein story is.
Well. You certainly made a good impression. He got into our age difference a little bit, by telling me he wasn’t going to mention our age difference. LOL, I texted CJ.
He’s protective of you. But like you are with everyone, you seem to own him. Haha, CJ texted.
Not sure how to tell him about Shale Rock, your parents…
I should have just told him about BFC. He’s not going to care, Heather.
BFC? I thought. Oh. Benson Fuel Corp.
He WOULDN’T have. But I think he may trip now. I’ll figure it out, I texted, then turned my attention back to Daddy.
His bourbon glass is almost empty. Probably not the worst time to bring up CJ’s family and company, I thought. Here goes nothing…
“So…” I started, pulling Daddy’s attention from the news. Then I exhaled hard and blurted out, “CJ’s parents are really… rich.”
“OK… So?” Daddy replied, muting the television.
“He lives with them… on their… estate,” I told Daddy, easing the conversation along.
“I figured he did alright for himself,” Daddy began. “I mean, he carries himself well and talks like an educated man. Plus, I noticed his nice car.”
Naturally, I laughed out loud at that comment about CJ’s 330.
“What did I say?” Daddy asked, confused by my sudden laughing fit.
“Nothing,” I told him, shaking my head. “It’s just a joke I have with CJ about his car.”
“OK…” Daddy exhaled, forging the conversation back to a more somber tone. He looked a bit embarrassed, but hurt, like I was laughing at him.
“Sorry. CJ’s touchy about his car, so I tease him about it,” I said, letting go of the joke. “Yes, it IS a nice car. But when you see their house, you’ll probably get why I tease him. CJ could afford to drive anything he wanted.”
I went on and told my dad all about Benson Fuel Corp, CJ’s parents, how we met, the motorcycle they commissioned us to build, everything. Daddy listened to me intently as I laid it all out for him. It was such a relief to acknowledge and validate my new, blossoming relationship with CJ. Speaking those words made the whole thing finally feel REAL to me.
“So he has a gym in his house?” Daddy asked, singling that ONE bit of information out. I understood why when he followed up with, “I have to admit. When you said you were ‘working out’, I imagined… well, not exercising in a gym.”
“Oh yes! His gym is amazing! We can watch movies while we run on the treadmill,” I said excitedly, steering Daddy’s remark towards the gym and away from the actual lie of working out last night.
Last night. Oh my God. We definitely worked out, alright. I felt myself getting wet, remembering it all. CJ’s first penetration. His climax inside me. My own orgasm in the bath. I felt my face get hot. I could masturbate right fucking here, right fucking now.
“You OK, Sweetie?” Daddy asked. I must have broadcast my thoughts right across my face. When he touched my leg, I inhaled sharply and felt a gush inside my panties.
“I’m fine,” I said, a bit breathlessly. “I just wanted to tell you about CJ’s family and stuff,” giving my dad a convincing smile.
I rolled off his bed, pulling my tank top down to hide what I suspected were some soaked panties. “I’m going to bed. Goodnight, Daddy.”
What the fuck was that? I asked, lifting my tank to inspect my drenched pussy. Is this how it’s going to be? You gonna just lose control now?
I had used my fingers to find my own pleasure many times. And I didn’t really care what the purpose of sex was to my body. I only cared to experience that feeling of buzzing, ear-ringing ecstasy that masturbation brought with it. As I slid a finger between my slick-wet folds, I suddenly realized what it had all been about.
It was about sex, of course. The lustful penetration of a man’s penis. I knew I would need to satisfy myself manually. But my mind began reeling, imagining the falling away I felt during that first joining of our bodies. It wasn’t the stimulation of my hands anymore that propelled me towards that climactic ending. It was the intimacy of the act—the giving… and the taking of each other’s pleasure.
It felt so good to touch myself. My fingers slipped effortlessly inside, dipping themselves into my desire. I wanted CJ inside me again. I wanted his penis, his cock, to fill me and take me and bring me to that dizzying bliss. I circled my clit with a wet finger, teasing it with more and more pressure as I imagined my boyfriend’s magnificent cock preparing to enter me.
The time of recreational masturbation was over. There was something inside me that had more need than I would ever be able to fully satisfy again. I rolled onto my stomach and began humping, fucking my fingers, willing my body to accept the substitute for CJ’s cock.
I drove my hips into my hand, forcefully grinding two fingers inside me while my thumb and index finger pulled, pinched and teased my desirous clit. I covered my mouth with the back of my other hand, moaning and panting into it. I writhed in bed-shaking indulgence, fiercely fucking my fingers. The wave began taking me, its current pulling me under as I fell into the deep chasm of ecstasy.
I collapsed into my bed, yielding to the exhaustion of such a climactic end. Sleep would bring me dreams. Dreams of romance, desire… and passionate love-making. And I would greet the morning with a clever, knowing smile.
End of Part 9
