When you start writing a fiction story, it’s fun to think about where to start. But when you’re writing a true story, especially one with a lot of threads runnings through it, deciding where to start is really hard. There are so many strands involved in explaining the key event, and people won’t understand you if you don’t describe them well. They may even judge you.
I’ll start with an introduction. My name is Kellie and I grew up in a small town not far from Indianapolis. I’m a petite, cute redhead with ivory skin, blue-green eyes, freckles, and a sweet smile. I’m 30 now but the events of this story concern my college years — though I have to back up and tell you about high school first.
Back then, I was pretty popular – but this popularity left me confused. I had no shortage of boyfriends, and I dated some, with two serious boyfriends. But there was a slight problem: I liked girls. At least, I began to notice girls more and more and I was increasingly disappointed in the emotional immaturity I found in the boys I dated.
Growing up in a religious part of the country, though, it wasn’t easy to explore my interest in the female body. My parents were themselves publicly religious, attending church every week, but they weren’t nearly as ‘churchy’ as many of their friends and neighbors. My mother worked as a state attorney and my father was an athletic coach for a local university. I have an older brother Matt, and other relatives in town.
In high school, I was a good student and decent player on the tennis team. I did volunteer work in the community on behalf of the homeless, and was overall regarded as a good, normal, decent American girl. In my private moments, in my bedroom right before drifting off to sleep, or in the bath with the hot foamy water inching up my body, I let my imagination voyage to territories no one would have thought I explored. But in real life: I let my two boyfriends grope me and take my virginity, and I went off to college in Bloomington a committed, but mostly inexperienced, bisexual.
I was also a committed student, a double-major in French and Art History. My first girl was a friend of my roommate, an outspoken, brilliant brunette with perfect breasts who was from Russia and spoke perfect English with a very slight, very adorable accent. I wanted her to be my girlfriend, my coming-out lover, but she was like the most incorrigible tomcat when it came to sex: she just wanted pussy, not love.
Losing her was painful. I self-medicated through study, taking 21 credits my first semester of my sophomore year, sleeping around with a series of guys, drinking, and eating. The last two pursuits began to take a toll on my body, and my mood. Despite these setbacks, though, I did land my first serious girlfriend, an adorable and endearingly ditzy Asian girl, Bonnie, with soft skin, long thick hair, a round firm ass, and a pussy that got so wet so quickly that it flooded my mouth when I went down on her.
Our relationship was amazing but volatile. Bonnie confessed to sometimes missing men, and my weight gain began to put her off me, which she was too sweet to tell me directly. But her enthusiasm for getting naked with me clearly waned as the spring semester got into ful gear.
So. Depressed, out of shape, unhappy, I decided to leave school for spring break and spend it at home, assessing where my life was, doing some meditation and yoga, staying away from booze and potential lovers, and…..getting into shape.
Remember how I told you that my dad is an athletic coach? Specifically, he’s a trainer for several of the college’s varsity sports teams. The man knows his stuff, and his equipment. Our basement is a finished, fully-stocked gym. I asked Daddy if he would train me and coach me back into shape. And of course, the sweet man said yes.
He went the extra mile for me, too. Preparing my meals. Working out along with me. Encouraging me and pushing me a little, too. He was supportive – but he could be a mean scold when I acted lik a quitter, pushing the right buttons to keep me at it. “Come on, Kellie, get that ass moving or it’ll only be fugly girls for you!”
That’s another endearing thing about Daddy. He was the only one in the family who never said a critical word about my dating habits. From the very first inkling of what my sex life consisted of, he was unwavering in his support.
During our workouts, we’d talk about my dating life, and about how I could get Bonnie back. By the end of Spring Break, I hadn’t lost much weight, but I felt stronger and more firm and more flexible. The foundation was set, and my workouts could only improve.
I visited home every weekend to continue working out with Daddy. We’d go jogging together and play tennis, and hit the gym downstairs once a day, too. We were jogging together when I asked Daddy why he never got Mom to work out with him; he was such a great coach.
“Well, you know, your mother is a workaholic. Keeping up her fitness stopped becoming a priority once she got this high-powered gig.”
We picked up our pace as we ran down a hill – which I felt so much more confident about climbing upon our return loop. It hit me that I was getting into not just good shape – but damn good shape. And moreover, I noticed that my Dad’s workout program for me sculpted a body that was feminine and sexy – my ass was super firm, my triceps solid without being muscular, my flexibility was gymnast-quality.
“It’s a shame,” I said between a couple of hard breaths, “that you’re in such amazing shape and your partner is, well… ”
Daddy was silent – he just shrugged his shoulders. Which made me study them. So muscular! God, I was checking my dad out. Such a solid guy, though. Stoic, faithful.
“Plus you must get hit on by a lot of coeds,” I said, punching his arm, which was like stone.
“Well, naturally,” he said, laughing.
The way back up the hill was next, and I didn’t know where to go next, so… I focused on my breathing, and on meditating past the burning in my thighs.
* * *
Three weeks later, school was out, Bonnie and I had gotten back together and broke up again, and I was back in the gym, working out hard with Daddy. I was wearing IU running shorts, a white athletic bra, socks and sneakers. Daddy had his shirt off. I couldn’t believe how distracting I found his hairy chest, with their fillets of firm muscle.
He was completely innocently asking me about my status with Bonnie. While I was leaning with one knee on a bench doing tricep kickouts, his hands on the small of my back, he said, “You are in crazy good shape, hon. And you’re so young!” He said this with a hint of regret in his voice that I found really moving for some reason. Maybe it was because I felt emotionally vulnerable; maybe because this combined with my sympathy for his plight of being stuck in a marriage to a woman who’d grown, well, fat. And grumpy.
“Your butt is perfect, Kellie. I just have to say! Can’t you consider dropping Bonnie altogether and date around a little? Explore your world. Date a few people. Find out what you like, what you don’t like. There’s no way you don’t have a million offers.”
I put the weight down. I brought my other knee on the bench, and laid my head down on its far end, as though I were really tired. But really I wanted to keep my ass high in the air.
“I know, Daddy. But listen to you talk – we’re the same, in a way. Trapped. When’s the last time you had sex?”
My dad blushed. “ha! I don’t know what sex is. Get up and let’s do some crunches,” he said, slapping my ass.
“He says as he gropes a ‘perfect butt,” I joked, as I got down on the mat. Daddy rolled his eyes. He gently kept one hand on my feet and one on the lower part of my tummy as I rolled myself up the way he showed me.
After a few other exercises, we were sitting next to each other on the floor, our sweaty backs against the brick wall of the back end of the basement. We were drinking bottled water. We hadn’t talked about sex for a while. Then he said, “Oh I forgot to tell you that that kid Kyle called a couple of times this week looking for you. I know you’re not interested in guys right now, but I thought I’d tell you.”
I leaned over and put my head on his shoulder.
“It’s not that I’m not into guys totally. I’m just not into 99% of guys.” My dad moved his arm and put it around my shoulders and I nestled into his body.
“But 99% of guys are into you, I guarantee it.” He said. I felt so secure, so confident with this body my dad had sculpted for me, and so….turned on. I could not quite believe I felt this way. I had to go take a shower.
* * *
I looked at my naked body in the mirror as the shower got hot. It’s so narcissistic, I know. but I looked damn fine! My shoulders were softly rounded. My red hair, a dark amber color in the light of the bathroom, was cut to just below my chin. My breasts may have gotten a little smaller with the loss of pounds, but they looked bigger on my lean, tight, petite frame. I still needed a C cup though it was now a 32 C instead of a 34 C. If I leaned back, I could see the muscles of my tummy — if I leaned forward, it was lean with a hint of cute soft tummy skin. My thighs were firm.
I turned and saw an ass that was round and feminine but very firm. If I leaned over slightly, my ass parted a bit and revealed my lips. They were wet. I let my hair fall over my face and opened my mouth, reaching behind me with one arm and ran my finger along the pink, wet flesh. I held that pose and contemplated a lover seeing me like that, from behind me.
I got in the shower and I masturbated hard. I tried not to think of him. That night, I masturbated in bed, and I didn’t stop myself.
* * *
I returned to school a cat in heat. I went to a party and made out on a sofa with a cute guy I’d never met, until I took him by the hand to somebody’s room upstairs. He tried to be a gentleman and stop things before they got “too far,” but when i reached into his pants for his dick he stopped talking altogether. I slipped my mouth around the tip for 30 seconds before hiking up my sundress, moving my panties aside, and sitting on his cock. He told me he was about to cum about two minutes later, and I pulled off of him, looked down, and watched his dick drool all over his tummy.
That moment didn’t feel good – he apologized for cumming so soon (telling me how “hot” I was), I was still really horny, and all of a sudden this guy didn’t seem attractive to me.
Two nights later, I let an older guy pick me up in a bar and walk me three blocks home. Once sure my roommates were out of site, I led him to my room, where he dove face first for my pussy as soon as my skirt came off. His technique wasn’t bad but he made the same lame joke about my “carpet matching the drapes” that every redhead has to suffer many times in her life, so I pretended to orgasm on his face and gave him a handjob to finish him instead of what I’d intended. Oh, how guys have no idea how they blow their chances!
I never even thought of Bonnie as my newfound obsession with a good, hard fuck continued. A third guy I hooked up with was a sweet, short guy with amazing eyes, who was part of a study group. As the other members of the group were leaving his apartment, I excused myself to use his restroom, where I stayed until everyone else had left. I stripped, and emerged from the bathroom in a towel.
“Studying so hard made me sweaty,” I said, approaching him as he was loading dishes into the dishwasher. “I think we should take a shower.” Taking his hand, I led him to the bathroom. After soaping each other up, I sucked his cock with the water spilling all over my hair and down my shoulders and back. He fucked me pretty well three times that night and I thought I had found my new boyfriend, if not at least my new fuck buddy.
But you’ll never guess. Napolean here was married. He had a crappy college apartment, a 12-year-old Datsun, 26 credits toward a degree in physics…..and a wife back in Dayton.
So, two weeks and three one-night-stands since my last workout with Daddy, I learn that my mom was going to go for some weeklong lawyer conference in San Diego. I promise I didn’t mean to but my knees got weak when that news came from Mom’s mouth over the phone. I hadn’t thought about him much during those two weeks. I couldn’t stop thinking about him now.
It was time to spend a week at home.
* * *
My first morning there, I wake up with a start and a cry – major leg cramp. If you’ve ever had one of these, you know what I’m talking about. You feel it coming, you may even dream about it, you think to yourself that you should stretch your leg, but you do anyway, and BAM! – the calf rolls up into a ball.
Before I know it, Daddy’s in the room. My yell had alerted him, and, of course, he recognized what it was right away. He was wearing nothing but boxers and an IU T-shirt. I had on pajama bottoms and a tight gray tank top. Before I knew it, he was practically on top of me, stretching my leg. It was a distinctly sexual position, there was no getting around that.
Or the fact that his dick was hard and – I couldn’t believe this – visible, just a bit of it sticking out of his boxers. I looked away from it. I looked back. There it was. Hard. And inches from my pussy.
The time to act was now. But I didn’t. I was scared to. Plus, my leg really did hurt.
* * *
Two days later, we’re at the beginning of a workout. Stretching. Not sweaty yet. Me in soccer shorts and tank top, barefoot. My hair in a half pony. Daddy in long sweat pants and t-shirt, sneakers. He’s going to hit the treadmill, and I’m going to work the exercise ball.
“How’s your calf?” he asks.
“Perfect. Thanks to your expert hands, Daddy.”
“Well, I’ve seen my share.”
I took a step closer to him, turning my back and doing a squat stretch, my ass sticking out. “You know what else is perfect, thanks to you.”
My dad said nothing. “Oh, you can touch it. It’s your handiwork, Daddy.”
He touched my triceps. I made a buzz sound, “Wrong, thanks for playing!” And I backed into him and ground my ass into his crotch. I couldn’t quite believe I was doing it. “It’s my sexy butt, Daddy.” He put his had on my lower back, laughed uncomfortably, and backed away.
“I bet it’s getting attention, sweetie.”
I turned to face him, hands on hips. “Oh, lots, daddy. Not all of it wanted, but, that comes with the territory.” I blushed at the entendre.
Daddy took a sip of water. “So, anyone new in your life?”
“No one serious, unfortunately. I followed your advice and dated a few guys.”
“And I learned that I think I want girls for relationships but I still need a guy for….something else.” Blushing.
“Kellie!” Dad said, laughing.
I put my face in my hands. “I know you don’t want to hear that, exactly.” Lifting my face, “but it’s exhausting to deal with the b.s. of guys. Especially when I want to do well in school, and find a girlfriend for real. I’m exhausted daddy.”
He hugged me and then made his way to the treadmill. “Kellie, the easiest thing in the world for a hot girl to do is find a guy for casual fun. Search for true love with a girlfriend, keep a guy on the side. Just be safe.”
His legs were pumping as he said this; I kept stretching, thinking about his advice.
* * *
The next day I was doing squats with dumbells. Dad got behind me to correct my form. “It looks like you’re favoring your left leg a little bit, honey. Did you hurt it?”
I had twisted my ankle during an early-morning jog, but it wasn’t serious. I talked it up though, so that Daddy would stay behind me, his hands on my hips as I did my squats. I was wearing short spandex shorts and an athletic bra. It was Friday. Mom would be back on Sunday, and I’d be heading back to school.
I had to do something. I leaned back, falling into his body. His arms caught me and I wiggled my ass against his crotch. He kept holding me, breathing into my hair. He was hard. He didn’t let go of me. I rubbed my ass against his hard-on, which was behind sweat pants that weren’t very confining.
“Does that feel good, Daddy?” I asked.
“Yes,” he breathed.
I dropped the dumbells. His hands were on my hips and he was now holding me steady as he actively rubbed himself on my butt. I tried to look over my shoulder at him and smile.
“We shouldn’t do this,” he said.
“But you’re body is so …. so fine, Kellie. And I haven’t touched a women with this kind of body….”
“I know, Daddy. Keep going.”
He kept rubbing. I was so wet. I wanted to peel off my shorts and let him fuck me. But he was so….. so sweet about it. He was trying to get the underside of his penis to stroke against my ass, but he is much taller than I am and he had to really squat to get in the right position….
So I lowered myself to my knees….to all-fours. My face low, my ass high. My dad held my hips and continued rubbing, more furiously, his dick feeling so hard through his sweatpants. “Kellie, I….”
Yes, daddy, yes. Don’t stop. You made this ass look so good. Now you can enjoy it. You deserve it, Daddy. You’re such a good man, daddy, please. Treat yourself. Do it, do it.”
He groaned, and leaned forward, one arm he hooked under my arm and across my chest to the opposite shoulder, the other gripping my tummy. He weight bearing on me now. Humping firmly. His hard dick rubbing through our clothes right between my cheeks.
He let out a low, quick series of moans and held me really tight – and then…..he stopped moving. He didn’t let go. He breathed – he exhaled deeply.
I didn’t know what to say. “Did you cum?” was what I ended up saying after a pause. “Yes, baby,” he said. We slowly leaned down to the floor, and I hugged the strong arms that were hugging me. He was silent and we lay there a long time.
To be continued…..