Loading...It’s Dayna’s fault again.
It’s Dayna’s fault that I’m up at 3:30 in the morning on a Thursday, struggling to keep my eyes open, nursing a bourbon, sitting in my office. That girl is nothing but trouble.
I’ve raised three kids now and two of them turned out fine. Julie is in med school, dating a handsome venture capitalist who knows exactly how much to kiss up to me. Tommy is a little bit of an introvert, but studying computer programming at MIT is an achievement that makes me proud of him.
Which leaves me with Dayna. Dayna barely got out of high school. I was surprised that Cal State accepted her, but she has no idea what she’s going to study there. I guess I could accept all that if she weren’t so obviously trouble. When she turned 18, we gave her a midnight curfew. It was a mistake setting a curfew later than we went to bed. Dayna has spent the summer staying out until the sun since Gina and I weren’t awake to check on her. She gets up on time for work as a lifeguard, but those heavy sunglasses aren’t just part of the look. She’s hungover. I’ve never met any of her friends. When I see them, they look older. She must have a fake ID, because I’ve heard her mention on the phone the bars she’s gone to. I don’t want her pregnant or dead in a DUI before she even gets to school.
I’m not the most attentive father, I know. But my wife and I were okay with her staying home and me working long hours to support the family. I make good money and the kids have their mother’s undivided attention. I’m not distant or cold or unloving, just absent sometimes. But it worked fine for a long time. Then the problems with Dayna started. When I mentioned it to my wife, she said, “Dayna just doesn’t listen.” Tonight that turned into an argument. If I didn’t like what she was doing, then I should try being the parent.
So here I am, sitting up waiting for Dayna. I’m going to set her straight.
About 4, I hear a car rev its engine and race off. The front door opens and I can hear high heels clacking on the tile. Dayna walks past the entrance of my office. Her heels are at least four inches tall and I wonder how she can balance in them since she smells like a brewery from here. Just looking at her disappoints me. The skirt on her designer dress was already too short, but she’s let it ride up so the globes of her ass hang out the back. The skintight black material looks damp and I don’t want to know what with.
“Dayna.”
She stops dead, but doesn’t startle. Slowly, she pivots toward me. She smiles broadly. “Hi Daddy.” I can’t figure out when she started saying, “Daddy,” with that tone of voice. Nor can I figure out exactly how sarcastic it’s supposed to be.
“Come in. Sit down.”
She walks into my office slowly, but confidently. She plants each foot surely and looks right at me. She’s smirking. She doesn’t know what’s coming.
Or I don’t. Because she sits up on the edge of my desk a few feet from me, facing me directly. I hadn’t expected this.
“I think you should sit in one of the chairs.”
“You said to sit down, Daddy. I’m sitting down.”
I think about the art of the negotiation. Don’t get sidetracked. I ignore where she sat.
“Dayna, you have a curfew of 12:00. You are nearly four hours late.”
“Well—” she started, but I cut her off.
“Additionally, you’ve been drinking and you’re underage.”
“Daddy, I—”
“And you’ve been very disrespectful to your mother. I’m not naïve. I know that you’re 18 and you want to have fun, but a flagrant disregard for the rules doesn’t buy you more freedom and trust, it buys you less. Now tell me what I expect of you.”
She didn’t answer. She laughed. It was a deep throaty laugh. It rolled out slow and there was nothing fake about it. She was amused. Her brown eyes twinkled in the low lamp light.
“Flagrant disregard for the rules. Daddy,” she said as she picked up my glass of bourbon. “You have a way with words.”
“Now just a minute,” I said, starting to stand.
Like a flash, I was pinned back in my deep leather swivel. She had a high heel pressed against my chest. I was surprised by how strong she was. Maybe I shouldn’t have been since swim team was the only thing she ever excelled at. And now one of those powerful swimmer’s legs was flexing inches from my face. Her calves were lean, tanned, and toned. Her thighs were surprisingly thick, but perfectly round and firm, not a jiggle on them.
I realized I was staring at the leg in shock. I looked up at Dayna. She cocked an eyebrow at me over the rim of the bourbon glass as she took a long sip.
I negotiate for a living. Often I say little. A look can set my adversary to babbling. I saw that look in my daughter’s eyes. I thought carefully before I spoke. I’m not going to babble.
I spoke in a calm, controlled voice. “Dayna. I’m not going to get physical with you. I want you to remove your foot.”
She laughed a little before taking another sip.
“Dayna. I’m telling you to take down your foot.”
“You don’t tell me what to do anymore,” she said, twisting her heel into me. It didn’t hurt a lot, but I looked down at the leg. And discovered Dayna wasn’t wearing any underwear.
Just between her parted thighs, I could see her lips glistening, not a speck of her blond hair to be seen anywhere. I didn’t know how to react. I wasn’t turned on—not by my own daughter. I took a calming breath and looked back up at her. She knew exactly what I had seen and she smiled, more with her eyes than her mouth as she finished the bourbon. She placed the glass down, then swung her leg from my chest to the arm of the chair. She pulled with her foot and I rolled toward her. Suddenly her other leg was on the other arm and her legs were spread wide for me.
“Oh Daddy. I always wondered how I could be your favorite. I wasn’t as successful as Julie or as smart as Tom. What could I do? And then the answer is so simple.”
I wasn’t going to look down there. I kept my eyes on hers. “Dayna, we were already discussing your poor judgment. This goes beyond anything. Now put your legs down.”
She spoke quietly. “You don’t tell me what to do anymore. You looked Daddy. You looked and you liked it.”
“Dayna. I’m not amused.”
“Oh, I am,” she said tossing her wavy blond hair and smiling broadly.
She pulled the chair a little closer to the desk. Now I realized that I didn’t have the leverage to get up without knocking some things over, including Dayna. I just never expected any of this. I expected yelling, crying, accusations, and lying. I was ready to be calm through the hysterics, but now maybe my calm was losing me the battle. I didn’t understand how.
She leaned in close to me and some of her hair fell across one eye. Her lipstick still perfect and bright red, I watched her mouth as she said, “Daddy, Daddy, Daddy. What am I going to do with you? Looking up my dress!”
“Dayna—”
“Daddy, what would Mom think? She would be so mad.”
I wasn’t going to rise to this bait. I struggled to stay cool. “Dayna, I’m the adult here.”
She straightened up with a bounce. “Haven’t you heard Daddy? I’m 18 now. I’m an adult. I can do so many . . . adult things.”
It was past four in the morning. This is prime time for her, but the middle of the night for me. That’s why she’s winning this.
“Dayna, we’ll talk in the morning. When you’re sober.”
I start to push back the chair to escape her. I was so focused on that action I didn’t notice her unzip the dress. Suddenly, her breasts were out. I froze again and stared at these perfectly round C cups that defied gravity. At 18, she didn’t need a bra for them to hold up firmly. Her skin was pale and flawless. They looked soft and inviting. I wanted to touch them. I didn’t.
There was a long silence before Dayna giggled. “Oh Daddy. I’ve really got you now. Mom would be so angry.”
It took all of my will to stand up. As soon as I did, her hand was on my crotch. And she felt it. She felt that I was hard. Because of my daughter. She didn’t talk now, she just started pumping inside my pants. I didn’t say anything either, I just panted.
And suddenly she stopped. She shoved me back down in my chair. I stared at her, not sure what was happening. She leaned back and grabbed a box off my desk. She pulled out a Montecristo No 2. Without looking, she picked up my cigar cutter, then carefully clipped the end. I suspected she had taken my cigars before. She placed the cigar between her lips and looked at me expectantly. After a moment: “Daddy . . .”
Quickly, I fumbled for my matches and struck one, moving the flame toward her face. She leaned in and expertly started puffing very lightly as she rolled the cigar around getting an even burn. Once lit, she leaned back and let out a large cloud of smoke. “Oh, Daddy . . .” She took another puff and looked straight at me. “Take off your pants, Daddy.”
I started to yank down my slacks, still sitting, thought better, stood up, but my pants were too far down for me to move my legs well. I fell back into the seat, my pants half off. Dayna took another puff and smiled wickedly at me through the smoke. I hadn’t felt like such a boy in decades and she enjoyed reducing me to one.
My pants finally off, Dayna said with a sigh, “The underwear too.”
I stood up to take those off. As my cock sprung free, Dayna paused, the cigar halfway to her mouth. Involuntarily, she sighed, “Wow.” She reached out and tentatively touched it. Then she shoved me back into the chair.
I sat down, wide-eyed, waiting and staring, afraid to move, lest I scare away the moment. She slid off the desk and dropped her dress to the ground. She straddled me on the chair and grabbed my cock. But she didn’t push me inside her. Instead she rubbed her clit against the head off my cock. By the sounds she made, she clearly enjoyed it.
“Oooh, Daddy,” she cooed, the cigar still dangling from the corner of her mouth. “You’re so big and hard.” I just groaned. “So, Daddy, do you understand what I mean when I say, ‘You don’t tell me what to do anymore?'”
“What honey?” I couldn’t focus on the words.
“See Daddy, you’re about to fuck your little girl. I could tell Mom what happened.” I stiffened up—and not in the good way. “Or if you let me do what I want, at least some of what I want would be you.”
“Dayna . . .”
“Come on, Daddy. Late nights, drinking, it’s not so bad. I never ride with somebody who’s drunk. I need you to agree to it.” She rubbed harder, her juices getting the head slick. I slid across her clit easily, left and right, up and down. She leaned forward and whispered in my ear, “Daddy, I need you.”
“Okay, honey. Okay. Yes. Yes.”
“Yes what?”
I was shaking. “Yes, honey, whatever you want.”
She moved my cock down her lips. “Say it.”
“Say what?”
“You don’t tell me what to do anymore.”
“I don’t—don’t tell you . . .”
“What to do.”
“I don’t tell you what to do anymore.”
She looked me right in the eyes. “I own you.” And she dropped onto me.
My dick sank in so deep so fast, I whimpered. I knew my daughter who was trouble with a capital T was no virgin, but she was still 18 and the tightest thing I can remember feeling. After the first drop, she took control of the pace, pulling up slowly and pushing back down hard, each time, grinding and squeezing at the bottom with a little laugh. As she rode me, she quietly talked. “Oh Daddy. Daddy, it feels so good.”
She grabbed my head and looked into my eyes. She pulled the cigar out of her mouth, dragging on it as she did. “Daddy. I love your cock.” Then she buried my face in her breasts as she put the cigar back in her mouth. Her breasts were everything I imagined. The soft skin rubbed against my cheeks, dazzling me. I tried to suck her nipples, but every time I got one in my mouth, her rocking pulled it out. I ended up licking and sucking whatever part of her wonderful tits fell into my mouth. But those giant breasts, rubbed wet from mouth, pressed against my face, started to create a wet seal. I was suffocating and I was so happy to do it.
Dayna must have noticed me slowing down because she sat up straight, freeing me from the perfect prison. She looked down at me and smiled again. That smile and that laugh of hers were so dangerous. There was no question that she was laughing at me. It made me angry and helpless at the same time. She continued to smile down at me as she rode me even more slowly.
“Do you like it Daddy?”
“Oh honey, I love it.”
“You like fucking me?” I nodded. “You like fucking your little girl? Jamming your big cock in her tight little pussy?”
“Yeah baby.”
“Let me hear it.”
“I love fucking my baby girl. I love how tight her little pussy is.”
“Good. I love fucking my Daddy.”
She leaned back and rested her hands on the desk. She started picking up the pace, looking at me. Her ass, which had been leaking out of her dress when she came in, started smacking my thighs indecently. She laughed each time, but I knew it wasn’t at the sound. I was learning that she was one of those girls who laughs when she’s happy, but I also knew there was something more.
Suddenly, she hopped off, an impressive bit of gymnastics in those tall, tall heels. She bent over my desk and stuck her ass in the air. The cigar resting against her lips, she turned back to look at me, throwing a ferocious wink. “Daddy?”
I got out of the chair and stood behind her. I grabbed her hips and pulled her toward me, not bothering to aim and somehow, still sinking home. She let out a surprised yelp. Now that I was in charge, we were going fast and hard.
Dayna leaned one shoulder onto the desk and reached back with her hand, rubbing her clit. “Oh Daddy, Daddy, give it to me. Give it to me hard.”
I let me hands slide up and down her hips, pulling her back hard into me. Even rubbing her hips felt like Heaven.
“Daddy, I need it so bad. I need your cock.”
I tried smacking her ass, just once. I had to see how it bounced.
“Ooooh, Daddy! Do you still think I’m bad?”
I leaned in to whisper, “I do. You’re a very bad girl.”
“Are still angry at my flagrant disregard for the rules?”
Now I knew she was being sarcastic. She was making fun of me even as I fucked her. My cock pumping into her tight cunt and she’s laughing at me. I still don’t understand why I came right then. As I granted and grimaced, she cooed, “Ooh, come inside me big Daddy!” and I knew she was coming too.
I pulled hard on her hips and held myself as deep inside her as I could. We pressed together, spasming against each other. Every time she clenched, I let out a tiny cry of pain. It was too intense.
Finally, exhausted, I sank back into my chair. She hopped on my desk again. Dayna had smoked most of my cigar, but she took a final puff before offering it to me.
I took a drag and stared at my daughter who had an eyebrow cocked at me. She smiled and asked, “Daddy can you get me a bourbon rocks?” I started to say something and she said, “You don’t tell me what to do anymore.”
I rolled my eyes and got up, feeling more in control. Sure, I was letting her drink, but I was okay with it, since it be as bad as other things I had filled her with tonight. I made two drinks and turned to bring them back to the desk.
Dayna was sitting in my chair, naked, with her high heels up on my desk. She had another of my cigars in her mouth. I brought her over the drink. She took it without saying, “Thank you,” and took a sip. I stood over her, not sure what to do. Then she wiggled the cigar at me and I realized I should light it. After taking a large first puff, Dayna regarded me over the rim of her glass.
“You know Daddy. I didn’t plan this. I didn’t know I wanted you. But when you said my name, I knew you were going to tear into me. Something inside me said that I wasn’t going to lose this conversation. This was one I had to win.”
I didn’t know what to do. The tiny butt of the cigar I had left was burning close to my fingertips, so I put it in the ashtray. I took a nervous sip of my bourbon. I looked around. The sun might be up soon.
Finally, Dayne broke the long silence. “Want don’t you head to bed Daddy?” I looked at her, surprised. “I know you have work and you need your rest.”
I grabbed my clothes off the floor and started out of the room. At the doorway, I turned back. Dayna stretched luxuriously, her blond curls spread across my chair. She puffed on the cigar contentedly. When she noticed me looking, she laughed again, winked, and said, “Goodnight Daddy.”
I went to bed.