Kristen started keeping secrets from me.
We always had a close relationship. I've been told many times that we are the envy of other fathers and daughters. We hadn't had a serious argument since she was ten years old. Now she was eighteen, and in a few short weeks she'd be out of high school and on her way to college in the fall, partially paid by a music scholarship.
But that depended on Kristen keeping her grades at B+ or better, and she hadn't shown me her report card since the first quarter. Since her grades had always been reliably high, it never occurred to me to ask. But if there was trouble, we'd better fix it or come up with an extra $10,000 pretty quick.
With a shy smile, though, Kristen gave me the third quarter report card without hesitation. Except for her math, the grades seemed to be fine; even there, the grade was a B-, not enough to really taint the overall average, but enough to be scary.
"Better get this up, honey," I told her. "There isn't much time."
"I-- I'm working on it, Dad," she said, blushing slightly. At the time, I didn't give the blush much significance; I thought she was just nervous about her grades.
But as the weeks crept by and graduation drew closer, Kristen withdrew, spending more time in her room on the computer and on her cell phone. I finally could not take it any longer; using home security as my excuse, I bought a device that would allow me to listen to and record Kristen's cell phone calls. I also figured out her e-mail password, and soon solved the mystery, but my heart sank and my torment grew when I discovered what was happening to my beautiful daughter.
In order to put everything in its proper context, I should tell you what Kristen looks like; even without a father's natural prejudices, she is a very beautiful, desirable girl. She has her mother's hair, thick, rich and black, which she styles simply to frame her wide hazel eyes, also her mother's. From my side of the family, she gets her curvaceous figure -- not for my Kristen the starving bird look. She gets her exercise in swimming pools, which keep her legs supple and shapely, and her black one-piece suit emphasizes her cantaloupe-sized, perfect breasts. Any normal man would want a shot at her, and I suppressed many wild, feverish fantasies as she was growing up.
I waited until I could take a day off from work and be alone in the house. Anguished and confused feelings contorted my stomach as I read.
"I don't know what to do," she wrote to her best friend. "He's getting more demanding, and if I don't do what he wants, there goes my scholarship."
I usually put my erotic fantasies in the back of my mind, where they belong. But Mr. Culp, Kristen's math tutor, was not a man to suppress his urges. He found out about Kristen's precarious scholarship, and volunteered to help her. It didn't take him long to start trading his tutoring in math for sexual favors. A classic blackmail situation: if she reported him this close to graduation, the scandal would cost her everything, even if she brought him down in the end. The guy was at least fifty years old; I wonder how long he's been doing this and how many girls he had taken advantage of over the years.
Culp knew his territory well. They worked in a quiet, cool, windowless study room at the high school. Culp had drawn her in slowly, with little hugs and caresses whenever she made a breakthrough. After a couple of weeks, the caresses became more intimate; he finally made his move after the start of the last quarter, kissing the nape of her neck and cupping her breasts as she was finishing up her lesson.
"You shouldn't do that, Mr. Culp," she told him, writing in her journal.
"You shouldn't be able to pass Algebra III either, but thanks to me you're going to," he said. "Look at all I've done for you. That scholarship is nearly yours, and what have I asked of you?"
Before my daughter could reply, she found herself in his arms, his lips grinding against hers, his hands roaming freely over her firm young body. When she broke away, he was grinning.
"What's that scholarship worth?" he asked.
"Please, Mr. Culp ..."
But even then Culp was opening his zipper, exposing an obscene lump in his underwear. He took her slender wrist and brought Kristen's slim white fingers close, forcing her palm around the throbbing rod in his pants. With firm pressure from his other hand, he made her squeeze, feeling his heat, yet still sending a shiver up her spine.
"Take it out, baby," he said. "I want you to see what a real prick looks like."
Tears glistening in her deep hazel eyes, Kristen gingerly felt around inside Mr. Culp's pants. His dick, long and hot, pulsated gently but resolutely beneath his briefs. Kristen fumbled for a few minutes, but eventually exposed Culp's turgid cock. It was huge, she wrote, though later she would tell me that she had no basis for comparison at that time. Long, red and angry, it was the first erection she had ever seen up close.
"Play with it, Kristen," Culp breathed.
"Please don't make me," she begged.
But Culp squeezed her reluctant fingers around his protruding stem, and started to move her hand up and down, slowly, smoothly, establishing a rhythm. With his other hand he pushed Kristen down onto her swivel chair, his dick a few inches from her trembling lips.
"You're not going to--"
"Not right now, girl," he replied, his breath coming in shorter bursts. "Just keep doing what you're doing. That's it. Keep beating me off, you righteous slut."
Upset and in fear, Kristen kept stroking him, part of her fascinated by what she was doing, her coerced introduction to the mysterious world of masculine sexuality. Faster and faster Kristen worked her wrist, skimming her fingers up and down Culp's throbbing red length, fluid beginning to form in the eye, and starting to drip down the hot shaft in little rivulets.
"That's it, baby," Culp sighed. "Oh, you're a natural!"
"Th-- th-- thanks, I think--"
Culp's eyes were closed, and his puffy red face held a look of dreamy bliss. His breath grew short and ragged. His knees bent slightly as Kristen continued to masturbate him, gaining experience with every stroke. She wondered what sex would be like with a man she loved.
"Oh, baby!" he cried. "Get ready!"
"What? Get ready for what?"
As if in reply, Culp's cock stiffened in her teenage fingers and erupted, sending thick white gobs of sperm into the air, splattering Kristen's face and running down her fingers and wrists. She tried to snatch her hand away, but Culp firmly held her wrist in place until the last drop of his sticky warm goo drooled from his victorious dick. Reflexively, Kristen licked some of the drops that landed on her lips. Her stomach lurched at the realization of what the salty cream she had just tasted really was.
The heat of the moment subsided and they began to calm down. All Kristen could do was stare at Culp's dripping member. He reached into his back pocket and pulled out a packet of moist towelettes. Kristen realized in that instant that he'd been planning to take advantage of her situation for quite some time.
"Thank you, Kristen," he said once his breathing returned to normal. "You don't know what that means to me."
"I don't have to do that again, do I?"
