After Poker Night

It's the summer after freshman year and I'm home for the summer. I'm a woman now, a legal adult, full-grown. But Dad's poker night still makes me mad. I'm going to handle it better this summer. I'm a confident, strong woman now. Maybe I'll go out instead of hiding in my room.

Dad's friends are gross, but I've never thought of my dad as gross. I learned years ago to just stay upstairs when it's poker night. When I would come downstairs, no matter what I was wearing, there would be a table of men talking about how I'm growing up so fast. I always knew what that meant; I felt the icky vibe.

Mom told me to ignore them. It's the one night dad sees his friends; once you move out you'll never have deal with them again. I figured she was right and so I just stayed in my room. But no one remembered to tell me it was poker night, so I couldn't plan to be out. We had all gone out last night and my friends were either just barely done being hungover or working tonight. So I stayed in my rom and tried not to be mad. An adult, a legal full adult woman hiding in my room from perverts twice my age.

Dad always drinks too much at poker, since he doesn't have to drive. I stay upstairs watching bullshit the whole night but then I hear Dad call me. I'm so annoyed. There's nothing he needs me for. I know his friends just want to get a good look at me.

"One second, Dad!" I yell down the stairs.

I try to decide what I should wear. Should I change or just know there's nothing I can do? I decide not to change, because fuck you, guys. This is my fucking house. I'm a grown woman and this what I'm wearing. So I keep my summer pajama set on, no bra, no undies, and put on my bathrobe as armor. It feels like a victory. Casual but protects from their eyes.

I get downstairs and Dad's alone. No one else is here.

"Come here, babe." He waves me over.

He's saying things, but he's looking at the ties on my bathrobe. I guess I'm answering, but there's a vibe. I'm not paying attention to the words, I'm paying attention to the vibe.

Then he stops speaking in the middle of the conversation and just stares at the tie around my waist. Then his hand reaches out. I stop breathing as he pulls open the bathrobe. It is silent downstairs. Mom's been sleeping for hours, my brother Doug's out at a sleepover. It is just me and Dad right now. Even the refrigerator turns off, the soft hum gone. Only silence as the fluff of my bathrobe falls open.

He moves slow, but he moves. He pushes one side of the robe away and then the other side. He's staring at my tits. I didn't put a bra on, it's just this thin pajama material between his eyes and my nipples.

He stands up and I back up. I back away from him until I hit the wall, and feel a frame behind my head. I gasp and jerk around to see the frame -- Christmas years ago, Mom's face is smiling right there behind me. I look back and he's there, he's right there,

His voice is so soft. "You don't need to hide from me, baby. I'm your daddy."

My stomach twists and churns. He reaches out, bolder now, and holds open the bathrobe, just staring at my tits. My breathing is erratic. For a moment I can't breathe, then I shudder with an inhale, then I shudder as I exhale. He's not looking at me at all, he's staring at my tits.

"I just have to feel them, baby," he says as his hand moves. A warm, bold hand against my shirt. I gasp, I'm frozen, I can't move. I can't move as his one hand warms and kneads at my body. I look down, the sight a shock. A man's hand on my chest. My dad's hand. My dad is touching me. This thin material hides nothing. I did not think this through at all. I could have been wearing something with a thick cup, I could have been protected. But I can feel every inch of his hand on every inch of my tit.

He breathes out slowly and my eyes lift to his face. He lets go and takes a steadying breath. The silence is deafening. He can't meet my eyes, he can only stare at my nipple as I feel it harden. His hand is back, ready now. He knows what to do.

"You feel just like your mother," he murmurs. He closes his eyes, and I know he's imagining it -- that I'm Mom but younger. Now his other hand drops my bathrobe and meets my other breast. I gasp and feel my inner walls clench. I've never felt that happen, I'm shocked. His hands feel so good, so wrong. His fingers roll over my hard nipples, hold the shape of me. He can't stop now; he's closer.

"Baby, you feel so good." His breath smells of alcohol, but also just of my dad. He smells like Dad.

He opens his eyes, looks down at me now. Our eyes meet and I'm horrified. The silence and the look in his eyes-- like he's someone else. Dad's not home anymore.

I turn around, it's all I can think to do. I just turn around and face the wall, staring at the Christmas photo of all of us. His hands come up below my arms and he covers my breasts, he pulls me to his chest. I gasp and my knees are weak.

"I've got you, kiddo," he breathes. His hands feel like magic, and my gut is twisting. He's working my nipples like a pro, and now his mouth is brushing my ear. "You're such a good girl. You always have been." His lips are on my neck. When his tongue touches my skin and he pulls at my nipple at the same time, a noise escapes my throat and my knees give out. He pulls me back to the chair, pulls me onto his lap with my back against his chest. "Just relax, baby. Daddy just wants to feel."

His big hands are all over me now, my tits, my stomach. He closes a hand around my thigh and spreads my legs open. I stare down as his hand covers my crotch through my loose pajama shorts and squeezes. My breath shudders when I see the wet through the fabric. He groans and his hand slides along my thigh now. One hand working my nipple so good, and now the other sliding up to the wetness. I'm staring down, my breath uneven, the shock so loud in my body, in the silence.

I can feel him hard against me now. As his fingers slide into my wetness, his tongue on my ear, his fingers holding my tit, I'm completely surrounded by him. I could have pretended to be asleep, I think; I could be in my room with the door locked.

He groans into my ear as his fingers slide along my vulva. A tear escapes as he moans and rubs my juice. He's not rubbing my clit, he's not entering me, he's just fucking playing with the wet around my lips. He moved in a wide circle around my lips, just a fucking tease, and it's so embarrassing; my stomach is on fire. I'm crying silently. "Please--" I try.

"Stand up."

I do what I'm told. He reaches around the flaps of my bathrobe and slides my bottoms down, then pulls me back into his lap. The bathrobe is still between us, and I'm so grateful, even as he holds me in place with a hand firmly around my tit. His mouth on my ear. "Easy, baby, just relax. I just want to feel you, baby."

He spreads my legs open on his lap, his knees are there between my legs. My pussy is open, I can feel the cool air of the quiet house on my clit. My vagina clenches again and the tears keep falling. He starts smacking my clit gently, murmuring in my ear. "Yes, baby, so wet for me. Yes." I wince and my thighs shake every time he hits it, but it's so gentle. "Daddy just needs to feel you, angel. You're so good." The smacking is building heat in my clit, it feels so good, I'm so confused. My stomach is hot and fucked up, my body is still cold with shock but hot with all of this sensation. I can't feel my hands and feet, but I can feel his closed fingers smack gently against my clit.

"Fuck, you're so beautiful, baby. You smell so good. This little pussy is everything I knew it would be. Just let me touch you, baby, don't cry." He's working my nipple again, and now the fingers on my pussy land and they stay there.

I've been fingered me before, but never like this. He's rubbing my nipple, and now his finger is sliding along my clit, up and down. My legs shake against him; I shake my head. "Daddy, no, please--"

He slides a finger into me and my mouth falls open. "Don't say no, baby. Don't tell me no. I haven't touched you all these years, I just need it now, baby. I'm just taking a little pussy, I swear."

His finger is inside me, moving in and out, curling inside me. My dad is inside me. His tongue on my throat, his finger inside me, his hand kneading my nipple. "Fuck, just like your mom, baby." He's everywhere. I'm shaking.

He slides out and the pad of his finger rubs my clit just right. Fire races to my toes and back with each movement, I'm shaking in his arms. "Please, Daddy."

It all stops. "Stand up." He closes my legs for me. I do what I'm told. "Take it all off."

I push everything off me, everything on the floor. I'm naked and staring at the Christmas portrait. We're all smiling. Me and Doug and Mom and Dad. Me and Dad. Smiling on the wall.

His firm hands turn me to the chair he was just sitting in, and he bends me over. My hands brace on the chair, face down and he spanks me. I gasp and jump, I'm not expecting this. The tears fall onto the seat. I don't know why he's doing this. I'm not even fighting him.

"Fuck, baby." His hands knead my ass now, grabbing. He's behind me, and his hands are everywhere now. I'm naked, bent before him, and he's running his hands over my nipples, my stomach, my vulva, my clit, my ass cheeks. I can feel the trail of my own juice he's leaving all over my skin. He smacks each cheek and rubs them. He groans in approval. "Baby, so pretty." He holds my left tit and smacks my right ass cheek and I'm sobbing quietly. "Fuck, baby. My sweet girl." He smacks my tit now, holds my ass. I'm quivering, I'm wet, I'm crying. "It's okay, baby, I'm all done."

He pulls me back against him, wraps his arms around my torso, kisses my hair and rocks his dick against my ass. "You're such a good girl, baby. Thank you. I just needed to feel you. Go to bed, baby." He squeezes me, rocking against my ass. "Never again, baby. This was just a bad dream, I promise."

He steps back and smacks my ass one more time, then picks up my clothes and puts them in front of me. He leaves before I can turn around. I'm alone in the room, the poker chips still on the table. I put on my robe with shaking hands and run upstairs, my pajamas in my hand.

I fall into bed and frantically rub my clit.

I don't know why it's over. I didn't want this to happen. I barely fought him. I don't know why he did it. I don't know why he stopped. I don't know what to do, so I come. I come spectacularly on my fingers. I want more. I want more of everything. His hands knew what he was doing. He said never again. I come again. I can't stop crying. I come again.