Sycamore Street, 873 Sycamore to be exact, was a street like any other street except on that Friday night. I was home alone. No boyfriend, no date, girlfriends busy, nada, sooo… that meant the only sex I’d be having was between me and myself. Being sixteen wasn’t turning out to be all that sweet after all.
Let me back up a bit. My name is Karrie, sixteen, a sophomore in high school. I’m not a virgin anymore. My boyfriend, at the time, Bobby Simmons, took care of that and in an all too familiar, anticlimactic fashion – four strokes and he was done for. He did break my hymen, though, so there’s that.
I was introduced to masturbation by my bestie, Maria, a hot-blooded Hispanic beauty with soulful brown eyes, jet black waist-length hair, and a nice bubble butt that all the guys want to fuck. She’s my age and it happened at a sleepover, but that’s not what this is about, either.
Masturbation – my favorite sexual activity, and currently, my ONLY, sexual activity. My masturbation preference is in the nude spread out on my bed. It just allows for more freedom to stimulate whatever I need without the confines of clothing.
Mom was gone on a week-long business trip. Dad was bowling with his league team. My younger sister was at a birthday slumber party. It was just me and my thoughts of getting railed by that poster of Shawn Mendes staring at me, which definitely enhanced the mood.
I had my eyes closed and would sneak glimpses of Shawn staring and smiling at me as I began my orgasmic quest. With my right hand between my legs, delicately stroking and massaging my little bean, nestled among the wisps of my black pubes, and my left hand squeezing my soon-to-be erect nipple of my right boob, I was entering the twilight zone and it was feeling soooo good.
My bedroom door swung open, dad announced, “Kar…rie...”
He was stopped mid-syllable by what his eyes and brain were absorbing. With cat-like reflexes, I immediately recoiled to the fetal position. My legs pulled up and my left hand did its best to cover my boobs while my right hand, slick and glistening from the activity, covered my vajayjay.
Obviously, my mind was in total disarray because I blurted out, “Don’t tell mom.”
What a stupid fucking thing to say, but that’s the first thing that came to mind. I knew she wouldn’t approve.
My dad, silhouetted by the hallway light, took up most of the doorway. He’s five-eleven and muscular. I believe he lifted weights when he was younger. He has a nice-looking forties body and looked a little like a bear with his chest hair visible in the V of his bowling shirt.
I swear, I could feel his blue eyes searing every inch of my skin then he produced his infectious smile, saying, “Karrie, can anyone join in the fun. (Followed by a chuckle.)”
I was still speechless as he approached my bed. “Don’t worry, pumpkin (my nickname), I won’t tell your mother. This will be our little secret.”
I breathed a sigh of relief and relax from my recoil position a bit. mom can be a real tasks master, at times. Although, I was still naked, laying on my bed with my handsome dad looking at me.
“Karrie, you’ve grown into a lovely young lady and a beautiful one at that. Of course, I may a little biased (again with a chuckle).”
Dad always knows how to put me at ease. He’s one of the last gentlemen on earth who will open a door for a woman, pull out her chair, and gives the best snuggly, hugs ever. Once when I was sick, he even made a trip to the drug store to get my sanitary pads. Now, if that’s not a dad who loves you, there isn’t one anywhere.
In his soft-spoken way, “So what do we have going on here?”
“I… I… I….”
“Karrie, you may not know this, but I’ve had some experience with situations like this.”
He reached out for me with his big hands and rolled onto my back.
“Karrie, let’s just relax and take a deep breath.”
I did just that. It was such a relief. I could feel myself let go of the tension that had sprung me into my coiled position. He took my left hand and slowly lifted it off my boobs.
“Karrie, I must say, you have some killer boobs. Remember last month when we cleaned out the garage and you tried on one mom’s old tube tops. You filled it out better than she ever could. You would give all the guys whiplash walking down the street in that. You were simply stunning, my beautiful girl.”
With those words, I began to feel sexy as my right hand relinquished its role as bean cover. I was laying on my back, hands by my sides with my legs spread slightly feeling like a desirable woman.
Dad’s hand touched my leg. A flock of goosebumps arose.
For big hands, they were softer than I expected as they began to slide up and down my thigh. For a second, I thought, “Oh, Shawn,” but this was real, so real. His fingers moved to the inside of my thigh as he continued to gently slide them up and down. As he got close to my hips, my legs unconsciously spread – wider and wider and wider. I wanted it. I wanted him to finish my trip to the twilight zone.
I could feel my kitty juicing. It’s like when someone says the words, “Suck on a lemon,” your mouth waters, an unconscious, Pavlovian response. My kitty was doing just that – drooling at the thought. When he touched it, my bean, it was like a static electric discharge had zapped me. I was jolted by it but loved it.
Whispering, “Ohhh, that feels gooo….d.”
He began to rub it with his big thumb. That felt a zillion times better than my little fingers ever had. Spontaneously, I began to pinch my nipple while Daddy rubbed my clitty.
“Mmmm, mmm, mmm…”
He used a little more pressure as he circle my electric beany. My hips began to undulate as he continued. I squeezed my boob hard and pinched my nipple at the same time. Fuck, this was so much better than solo.
“Oooo……, Daddy!!!”
I felt a sudden rush, then wetness as my pelvic muscle reacted spasmodically. His fingers continued as my lady parts made squishy sounds.
“Do you feel better now, Karrie?”
“Oh, yes. I feel wonderful. Thank you, Daddy.”
“I’ll be back tomorrow night so ‘be ready’.”
