From Kristen's diary:
I woke trembling this morning, because tonight was to be the night of my greatest and final humiliation at the hands of my math tutor, Mr. Culp. In the last three months, he has felt me up, manhandled my boobs, licked my pussy and made me come. He's spewed semen all over my tits, in my hands and in my mouth. But he hadn't fucked me. He was saving that for last, after my grades had gotten good enough for the $10,000 music scholarship I need to go to college.
We were to meet at the Lakeside Motel, where he'd rented a small secluded cabin by the lake. No one would be able to hear us. No one would be able to see us. He could do anything he wanted with me and to me, but in a few short hours it would all be over forever. I'd never have to see the slimy old bastard again.
My heart thudded dully in my head and my throat was so dry I could hardly swallow (and I knew I'd need to later) as I approached the cabin, dressed as he asked: thigh-high black leather boots with four-inch heels, short black leather skirt, skintight black sleeveless satin cowl-neck blouse, a choker necklace of bright white pearls. He wanted my hair loose and wild. But more than anything else, he wanted to be the first man ever to shove his fat, drooling cock deep into my pussy. I would have cried, but I had no more tears left.
As I approached the cabin in the cool twilight, I could see a man's silhouette outlined through the curtains, sitting in a chair by the window, his chin in his hand. He had lit candles and placed them everywhere. I could also make out the outline of a champagne caddy by the bed, two frosted flutes on ice as well.
When I got to the door I could not bring myself to knock. Mr. Culp told me that if I didn't go through with it, he'd go to the scholarship people and claim that I'd seduced him in exchange for the grades, that I'd done no work at all, and that would be that -- $10,000 and my college education gone to the sky. My body wracked with dry sobs for a moment as I contemplated what he had in mind for me, as the memory of his salty hot cock flared on my tongue and I almost gagged. Finally, I raised my little white fist and knocked gently, hoping he wouldn't hear.
A moment, and then the door opened slowly, a man's shape black against the candlelight.
"Mr. Culp," I whispered, "please don't make me go through with this."
"You won't have to, Kristen."
My head snapped up in wonder and my heart stopped for a second. My stomach fluttered, confused with relief, confusion and shame, because the man standing at the door wasn't Mr. Culp. It was my father.
"Jesus!" I cried. "Dad! You almost gave me a heart attack!" After my head stopped reeling, I asked, "What are you doing here?"
"Come inside," he said.
The room was designed for a romantic rendezvous. A wide, thick, sheepskin rug sprawled in front of a fireplace, unnecessary in the late spring. Besides the candles and champagne, the queen-sized bed had been made with black satin sheets, paintings of sunsets and gentle rolling hills hung from the walls, and in the center of it stood my dad, dressed in a black turtleneck, black jeans, black espadrilles and socks. He gestured to a red file folder on the desk.
"What's that?" I asked.
"Your e-mails and diary," he said. "I have a confession to make, darling. I found out what that son of a bitch was doing to you and I read your files."
I cried out and looked away, my cheeks blazing with shame.
"I printed it all out and tracked the bastard down," Dad continued. "I explained to him that I was willing to put it all before the school board and the press. I told him that unless he resigned, and soon, he'd never work again, his wife would probably castrate him with a blunt knife, and we'd sue him for everything he was worth and more besides. If he knows what's good for him, he's quit already."
"You spied on me?!"
"You couldn't just expect me to stand by, could you? Not after what he was doing. If you prefer, though, we can go to the school board anyway. He deserves it."
"NO!" I barked. "Jesus, I just want this to be over. But why are you here? Why didn't you tell me at home?"
"Because Culp and I had our little chat about an hour ago, just as he was almost finished setting this up," Dad said. "I'm sorry for spying, but would you rather have gone through with--"
"I don't think so," I replied. "I'm sorry, Dad. I wish you'd told me."
"There wasn't time."
"Thank you," I said, opening my arms for a hug. Dad seemed reluctant at first, and when we embraced I found out why. His cock was as stiff as a brass bedpost, and it burned against my pussy.
"Dad!" I snapped, surprised.
"I can't help it, honey," he replied. "Reading all that graphic description you wrote made me hot. Don't worry. It'll go away soon."
What surprised me more was how turned on I was by it, that I could make my father get hard for me.
"Maybe I don't want it to go away," I said, looking up at him. "At least I know it's because you love me, not because you want to humiliate me and lord your power over me."
He tried to pull away, but I wouldn't let him go.
"Kristen ..."