Amanda's Dilemma

Amanda was sitting on the sofa watching a rerun of "One Tree Hill" when I got home from my gig. I set down my guitars and headed to the kitchen as I called hello.

When her mom and I first divorced three years ago, it had seemed to make sense that Amanda would stay with her. I was a musician who gigged and traveled so there wasn't much doubt as to how that would go and I didn't fight it. Everything changed, though, when, after 15 years of sobriety, Joyce fell off the wagon and Amanda asked if every other weekend could become a full time thing.

I am thrilled to have her living with me. Really, I am. But at the same time, I am not what you would call an expert on dealing with the emotions of an 18 year old girl. Sometimes I feel like she needs something I just don't have. But maybe all parents feel that way, no matter the situation.

When I joined her in the living room, I realized she'd been crying.

"Hey," I said, sitting beside her, alarmed, falling into protective dad mode, "what's wrong?"

"Nothing," she tried.

"What happened? Did Joey do something?"

Joey is Amanda's boyfriend. They'd been dating a few months and things had been going well, at least I thought they had. Joey seemed like a nice enough kid. Good student. Decent athlete. Looked me in the eye when we spoke. I liked him.

"No," she said.

"Then what happened?" I asked.

"I don't want to talk about it," she replied, her eyes locked on Chad Michael whatever his name is.

These were the moments that confused me. Should I force the issue? Take a stand? Turn off the TV? Or give her some time and space?

I chose the time and space option.

"Well, let me know if you change your mind," I said. "And I really hope that you do."

I retreated to my bedroom where I took a quick shower and slid beneath the sheets. Just as I was dozing, I sensed motion and jarred awake as Amanda pushed open my door.

"Dad?" she said in a question. "Can I talk to you?"

"Of course you can, baby," I answered sincerely, clicking on my lamp and propping myself up. I slid over slightly as she sat by my feet.

"Am I ugly?"

"No," I answered quickly, vehemently. "God, no. You're really, really pretty."

This was not fatherly spin, by the way. Amanda's large brown eyes, long, light brown hair, full lips and curvy, 5'7" body made her very easy on the eyes.

"Why would you even ask that?" I asked.

She paused, then said, "I don't think Joey is attracted to me."

I laughed.

"If Joey has a pulse, which I am assuming he does, then he is attracted to you."

"He doesn't act like it?"

"Have you guys..." I let the question trail off, and she gave me an incredulous look.

"Can we just use the real words and not dance around stuff?" she asked.

"Have you guys fucked?" I blurted, happily following her communication lead.

"No," she replied. "But God do I want to."

I couldn't quite hide my shock.

"Jesus, Amanda. You fuck? You're always safe, right?"

"I do...and of course I am. I'm not an idiot."

"Ok, sorry. Real talk. Real words. All good. So you want to fuck Joey," I stated.

"Yes, I want to fuck Joey but he kind of shuts me down. It's making me crazy."

"I bet it's something completely different than what you think," I offered.

She had a certain adorable sort of concentration look she made when she really considered something.

"Explain," she said.

"I remember this girl I was dating in high school. Her name was Beth Johnson and she was so fucking sexy, all I wanted to do was to fuck her. It was all I thought about. She was a goddess...not unlike you, might I add."

This illicited a refreshing little blush.

"So, one night, our make out session had shifted to the backseat of my dad's giant car and I had her top and her bra off and was working on her jeans when suddenly, unbeknownst to her, I erupted."

She laughed.

"Like, erupted," I continued. "Mount Vesuvius in my jeans. Cum City."

"What did you do?" she asked eagerly.

"I pretended to lose interest...said I forgot my parents needed me home. Prayed she woudn't see the giant stain on the front of my jeans."

"Interesting," Amanda replied, considering this possibility.

"I bet you are Joey's Beth Johnson."

"You really think I'm a goddess?" she asked, clearly pleased with the idea.

"Yes, I do. A goddess who needs sleep. Now go to bed."

As she stood, I confess I saw her differently, more like Joey must. She'd changed into her sleep ensemble, skimpy old cotton gym shorts and a worn white T-shirt that did little to hide her impressive body. She was beyond sexy.

"Okay," she said. "This helped."

"I'm glad."

This might be a good spot to mention that I, though generally regarded (I think) as fairly handsome (blue eyes, brown hair, fit, medium build), had been in the midst of a sexual dry spell due partially to the fact that my daughter was now living with me. So my right hand had become a regular visitor to my boxer briefs. Charged up a bit from our refreshingly frank sex talk, I reached down for my hard on and began the familiar tugging, my thoughts meandering between Beth Johnson and Amanda.

"I left my hair thingie...oh my God," Amanda said as she re-entered the room. "I am so sorry dad. I should have knocked."

My bed sheet had fallen to the floor so there was no way of hiding my cock, which remained fully erect.

She should have left. She didn't.

I should have made her. I didn't.

"Wow," she said. "You look good."

My right hand, working off muscle memory, absently continued its stroking.

After an eternal pause, she asked the question that changed our lives.

"Do you want me to leave?"

Another eternal pause.

"I want you to take off that T shirt."

She pulled the shirt up over her thick hair. Her tits were big and full with great, round areolas and nipples that were long and hard.

"Fuck," I sighed, my fist tightening around my shaft. "You have amazing tits, baby girl."

"Thank you, daddy," she replied.

"Now show me your pussy."

"Yes, daddy," she said as she pushed her shorts and panties off.

"Bring it closer, baby."

She stepped toward me. Her musk filled the air, making it humid and thick.

"Turn."

She did.

"Bend forward."

She did.

I sat up on the edge of the bed. Her ass was level with my face. I grabbed her by the hips and pulled her back to me, then spread the cheeks apart so that I could lick along her dripping slit. I reached around to finger-tease her clit as my tongue burrowed into her tight wet cunt. In less than 30 seconds she shivered a hard wet climax onto my lips and hand.

I stood and turned her back around, pulled her body against mine, savoring the feeling of her big tits pressed against me. She was shaky as we kissed.

I forced her down onto her knees.

"Suck daddy's cock now, Amanda," I said, gripping her hair roughly as she eagerly stroked, then sucked on my throbbing dick. "Holy fuck, baby," I said breathlessly, "you're such a good little cock sucker."

Feeling my cum moving within I yanked her back up then threw her onto the bed. I laid on top of her and her legs spread as my cock found refuge in her impossibly tight cunt.

"Fuck," I groaned as I pushed into her slowly, slowly, ever so slowly. "Fuck, it's so good."

"Fuck me daddy," she moaned, her legs bent now and wrapped around me. "Fuck me, daddy."

Within moments I was pound fucking her, my cock submerging quicky, repeatedly, as deeply as physically possible, until she climaxed loudly, her body going red as she screamed, tightened, clamped.

"I need to fucking cum on those tits, baby girl," I panted as I pulled my soaked shaft out of her and brought it quickly up her torso, stroking wildly until my cum load deluged her large, firm chest. After the most abundant climax of my life, I collapsed onto the bed beside her and pronounced, "Joey doesn't know what he's missing, baby girl."

She nestled close against me.

"Thank you, daddy."