I don't know why so many of the stories here start out with an accidental encounter, then get up to top speed in a matter of a few paragraphs. When I walked in on my dad jacking himself off, believe me: we did NOT go from zero to fuck in sixty seconds. There was a lot that happened in the middle. Looking back on it now, I wouldn't change anything that happened!
Introductions out of the way first: call me Jessica, which is what my dad named me, after the Allman Brothers tune. There was a time growing up when I totally hated that tune, but I'm cool with it now. Music is a big part of what I have in common with dad: people like Paul Simon and Billy Joel and Joni Mitchell. Kids my age (which is eighteen) would dismiss them as oldies, which is weird because they're all still around, but I like them.
My dad's name is Todd, but I always just call him Dad, or Daddy when I was real little. Other times too, like the first time he ass-fucked me and when I came I yelled "DADDYYYYYYYYYYY!"—just like that.
Maybe I should have written "Spoiler Alert" or something; three paragraphs in and already I'm telling things out of order. I'll try to watch that from now on. No guarantees, though.
My mom was named Amy, and you're probably wondering why she didn't stop Dad and me from fucking. That's because she died when I was about one year old. I don't remember much about her at all. Dad took a lot of videos of Mom when they got married, and before I was born. He kept them hidden from me for years, because they were porno. They kinda inspired Dad and me, but not the way you'd think. Just keep reading.
Like those videos, my sex education was basically "do it yourself." We got the basics in school, and there were library books that covered the rest. Anyway, by the time I had my first period, I knew what was happening and why. That's more than I can say for some of the girls in my class. We'd all talk about it in the locker room after gym class or swimming, and there would always be one or two girls who were totally freaked out because they didn't know what was happening. They had parents who were very strict or very religious; anyway, they thought I was so sophisticated because I always had tampons in my backpack if they needed one. A bunch of times I was the one who taught them how to put it in. You'd think it would have messed me up, helping a bunch of other girls my age figure out their own bodies. I swear I saw, and touched, a dozen pussies before I got to high school. But they were almost all bald and all of them bleeding, and I never got turned on by any of that. Anyway, I felt like a nurse or something, and I guess, thanks to that, I just got off to a slow start.
The sex ed books all had pictures of dicks in them, but for some reason not erections. They were just limp and sorta hung there in the pictures, and I couldn't see how sex was supposed to work from THAT. For a long time I didn't know what sex was supposed to be with a floppy thing like that. That's where my friends came in—my tampon friends. Some of the girls I went to junior high with lived in my neighborhood, and we were always visiting each other's houses, and at one point we formed our own club: The Ancient Mystic Protective Association of Xperts. (Read the initials; we thought we were being cute.)
We did all of the girly things, like go to movies together and have sleepovers. One time we were over at the house of Maria (or Not Marie, as she always introduced herself), and we were up around midnight, and between the sugar rush from a steady stream of sodas and our guesses and rumors about boys and what they did with girls, we were all pretty giddy.
That was when Not Marie brought out The Monster. She had found it in her big sister's drawer or a box in the attic; she wasn't too clear about that. But she brought out a plain cardboard box, and took off the lid, and there inside was what looked like a pair of black silk panties. But then she produced The Sacred Relic (an empty Tampax box) and we had to all touch the Sacred Relic and swear secrecy for whatever we saw or did that night. Then Not Marie pulled off her nightgown, dropped her panties, and slipped on the black silk pair in the box. But this pair had something hanging off the front. It was a beige colored plastic dick. She danced around the room for a bit and we were laughing it up, and it still didn't register in my mind that this was what a guy's dick was supposed to look like when it was ready for sex.
Until she said: "Who wants to go first?"
Everyone in the room stopped talking. This was something you couldn't hide from a doctor, even if you could lie about it to a parent. She was giving us a chance to have sex with her plastic prick, and it was the closest we'd ever been to actual fucking. After all, there was another person behind the plastic—someone who would push the cock into you, and pull it back, and do all the other things we'd joke about in private, like how boys would suck on your earlobe, or lick your neck, and we'd never done any of that so we didn't understand what the point was.
It was about a minute, but it seemed longer, when Eileen, we just called her Leen, pulled off the sleep shirt she was wearing. She was bare-ass naked under it. She grabbed Not Marie by the hand and pulled her to the bed, saying "Fuck my cherry; it's not doing me any good where it is." And they started making out on the bed.
We didn't say anything or try to stop them; the whole scene was just too -- alien. We watched in silence as Leen and Not Marie started kissing each other; big long kisses, so long I was afraid one of them would pass out. But then you'd hear them breathing loud and heavy through their noses as they lip-locked and tongue-wrestled.
"Shit, that looks so hot."
That was Bev, who lived two houses down from me. Even though we were almost neighbors, we weren't really close friends, even though I initiated her into the Association. She was standing right behind me, watching over my shoulder as the two girls kept making out on the bed. I had almost forgot Bev was there, until she grabbed my hand, squeezed it real tight, then pulled it over and put it on her naked stomach (she was just wearing a bra and panties).
I could feel the waistband of her panties under my fingertips. Did she want me to reach inside, to finger her pussy? She wasn't saying anything; she just kept putting more and more pressure on my hand as Leen started moaning and Not Marie started rubbing the end of the plastic prick up and down Leen's slit.
That was when I finally moved. Actually, I ran. I ran out of the room, down the stairs and into the backyard in about ten seconds. I caught my breath for a few seconds in the black moonless night before I ran through the gate at the rear of the yard into the yard of my own house. I went in through the sliding patio door, then ran up the stairs to my room, locked the door—which I hardly ever did—and jumped into bed.
"Are you okay, Jess?"
That was dad's voice. I guess he wasn't expecting me home until morning. I had to come up with something.
"I'm fine, Dad. It's just my stomach's a bit messed up."
"You want some seltzer? Some aspirin?"
