As I walked into the house, I shuddered with the knowledge of what I had to do.
I’d always heard that hitch-hiking was dangerous, but no one had ever told me exactly why. Of course, I can’t imagine “you’ll meet a man who will psychically force you to have sex with your father” would have been on the list even if they had, but still. I could avoided this whole perverted situation if the anti-hitch-hiking propaganda had been just a tiny bit more effective.
He smiled as I approached. I know that I’ll always be his little girl…I guess that’s what’s so fucked about it. Even when he’s deep inside me, he won’t be able to stop thinking of me as his little girl.
Got to stop thinking about it. It’s going to happen—the man made that very clear—but I don’t have to think about it. Block it all out.
As soon as I threw my arms around him, I felt something change. It was like in that moment, for the very first time, he noticed I was a woman. His whole body stiffened, and I quickly felt something else stiffening as well.
I seized the opportunity, as I knew I had to do, and tightened the hug. My boobs were pushing against my father’s chest, and playing the ingenue, I pushed my crotch up against his hardness.
My father sprung back, aghast. If I played this wrong, I knew I risked fucking everything up, and the consequences of that had been very clear.
I couldn’t let that happen.
“What the hell are you doing?”
I ignored his question, and threw myself down on the couch.
“What’re we up to tonight, Dad?” I said, acting as if everything was normal, knowing all the while that things could never be normal again.
There was a pause as he looked at me, staring at him with a coy smile. Again, I was trying to be subtle yet provocative—one leg was up on the back of the couch, and the other was on the floor. If I hadn’t been wearing these tights, he’d be able to see my panties, tightly stretched against my pussy.
I was in a position that suggested I wanted nothing more than for him to leap on top of me and fuck me.
If he was anyone else, that is.
“I thought we could go see a movie.”
“Ugh!” I said, rolling my eyes. “I just spent a full day traveling—can’t we do something here?”
I sat up, excited. I don’t have much in the way of tits, but the enthusiasm with which I moved ensured that what I did have bounced slightly, and I was simultaneously glad and shocked to see my Dad’s attention drawn to them as they did.
How the fuck do you seduce your father? Believe it or not, it’s not something they teach at law school. I was playing it by ear, hoping that my efforts would be enough.
But I had some ideas, and there was only one way to see if they could work.
“You didn’t see last week’s Game of Thrones either, did you?”
Dad shook his head, distracted. I wasn’t even doing anything provocative now, and he still couldn’t keep his eyes off my body. Had…had the man done something to my Dad?
Was he here now?
I resisted the temptation to look around for him—if he was here, he clearly didn’t want to be seen, and I doubted a cursory glance would be enough to reveal him to me.
“How about I make us some dinner and we watch some ‘Got’ together. Sound like a plan?”
My Dad agreed, and I run over to give him a kiss on the cheek.
“Jesus, Nicki,” he scowled in response. “That’s not appropriate—you know better than that.”
It seemed that my Dad was not comfortable with any displays of physical affection Unfortunately for him, there were going to be a lot more of them while I was home.
Dad’s always been a huge fantasy freak. You wouldn’t guess to look at him—he’s like 6′5″ and he works in a factory. But ever since he was in high-school, he’s devoured every fantasy book he can find. I tried a few as a kid—with the number laying around the house, it was hard to avoid them—but they never really did anything for me.
So he was pretty delighted when I got into the Game of Thrones TV show—it was something we could watch together.
We send emails and texts back and forth after each episode, it’s nice. He’s been pretty good at not spoiling stuff so far, although I do know what happens to Arya in the end.
I offered to cook dinner because guys love being fed, served. I dunno why—maybe it’s a primal thing, maybe it’s just that humans like food. Either way, I was going to use it to my advantage.
And so after going upstairs and changing into the most casually slutty outfit I owned, I asked Dad to come into the kitchen and keep me company while I cooked.
“Damn it, Nick,” he said as soon as he walked into the room. “What are you dressed like that for? You look like a common tramp.”
I may overdone it on the sluttiness and underdone it on the casual. He clearly didn’t like what I was wearing, but I knew it had kind of worked—even through his work jeans, I could see his cock slowly thickening.
“It gets hot in here,” I pouted. “Besides, it’s just you and me. What does it matter what I wear?”
He almost spat with rage in his response—it seemed that the stranger had granted my wish. Dad was going to hate every minute of what we were going to do.
“You will go upstairs and change out of that whorish outfit right now, young lady. I did not raise a slut.”
Maybe I should have done what he said. Maybe I should have tried to lull him into a false sense of security, make him think that I was still his innocent little Nicki before I tried anything sexual.
But instead, I maintained eye contact, and slowly moved one hand up my leg. My father’s eyes almost bulged out of his head as he saw me openly defying him, and as my hand moved under my skirt, he began trembling with rage.
“Nicki…” he growled warningly, and in response I just moved my other hand up to my top and roughly grabbed my left tit.
That did it. I’m not sure exactly what “it” was, but a vein appeared on my father’s forehead, and he pointed upstairs.
“Out!” he barked, and even with the consequences of my task hanging over me, I knew better than to disobey him. I reluctantly pulled my hand out of my panties, released my tit, and began walking to my room.
When I reached the top of the stairs, I looked back. To my surprise, Dad was looking after me, his boner visible through his jeans, his eyes fixated on my barely-covered ass. I knew I was playing with fire, but I couldn’t help myself—after pausing for long enough to know I had his attention, I moved my wet finger into my mouth, and slowly licked it.
Before my father could do or say anything in response, I was gone.