Dad's Friends Come to Hangout

Comments welcome. Let me know if this story should continue.

Again, this is a story of fiction. I do not condone this behavior. It is for the purpose of entertainment.

So, how do I tell this story? It was the most horrific and humiliating experience of my life. I was betrayed, not only by people I trusted but my body.

Let me start with my background. My name is Victoria, and I live in a small town in Alabama. I have lived here for my entire nineteen years with my father. My mother passed away when I was twelve from an overdose of opiates. My father did the best he could do. My dad has lived here his entire life as well. We have lived in our manufactured home park for as long as I can remember. I realize that people who don't live in a trailer park will be quick to judge. To those people, I say, Fuck you!

My father, Jim, is a truck driver. For most of my childhood, I would go on trips with him because there wasn't anyone, he could leave me with while he worked. He had close friends, but they had other responsibilities, and babysitting a kid for days was not something they were interested in doing. He used to tell me that having me with him helped him not to drink. When we were home, his friends would always be at our house because there wasn't anyone to complain about their noise or drinking. In other words, there was no women there to complain.

Throughout my life, the people most consistently that would be at my house were Larry and Bob, my dad's best friends. They were there so often that people thought they lived there. They started becoming obnoxious during my teenage years, making inappropriate comments. Depending on his mood, my dad would either tell them to knock it off or join in on the comments.

After high school graduation, I got a job as a receptionist at a motel located a few towns over. The pay sucked, but it had health insurance benefits, so it served a useful purpose. I needed a second job, and my father told me I should try waitressing because I wouldn't need to worry about being taxed on tips. I took this advice and upped the ante, getting a waitressing job at a local strip club. I told the owner that I would never strip, only waitress. I am not stuck up, but I am good-looking enough to get men to pay to see my assets. I'm five foot six, with nice hips and a round, firm ass that overcompensates for my firm b-cup chest. If that's not enough, my jet-black hair and sky-blue eyes have always made my looks stand out. With that being said, I realized I grew up in a trailer park, but I had no intention of being a trailer park trash girl. I also had no intention of living here forever. I deliberately didn't date guys from my town. All I did was work and save money, hoping to get out of this town with a good reputation.

Since I turned eighteen, older men, including my father's idiot friends would tell me that I should lighten up and let loose. I tried to ignore the snide comments both at home and at the club. Men at the club would try to encourage me to get on stage and strip. I would ignore them, serve their drinks, and accept their tips. Don't get me wrong, I liked to party as much as the next person, but I knew what these men were like.

Which now brings me to the night where everything changed. My dad had been on a long truck haul that was supposed to last a week and a half. He had only been gone a few days when Larry, Bob, and one of their loser friends, Jimmy, showed up at my house late on a Friday night. Larry told me that my father was on his way, and he wanted them to wait there for him. They told me they had a card game planned and that he called them and told them to meet him at the house. I didn't think anything was off, as it would be typical of my father to do something like this, so I let them in. As soon as I did, Jimmy made a crude comment about my ass. I shot him a dirty look as Larry and Bob told him to calm down. Calling me an uppity bitch. Although I was used to comments like this, it still bothered me. I didn't think I was better than anyone; I just didn't want to end up the stereotypical trailer trash girl.

I was tired from working seven days a week. I was on a nonstop merry-go-round trying to make and save money. I was trying to better myself. I was only nineteen and driving myself into the ground. That's how I felt this particular night. Maybe I was at a breaking point. I responded to the 'uppity' comment, "I'm not uppity, losers. I know how to have a good time when I want to. I'm just not a loser. Dickheads." For some reason, I wanted them to know that I did have a life and I wasn't the stuck-up bitch they thought I was.

The three of them looked at me with confusion. I typically don't say much around them. I have never stood up to them. I asked, "Is that it? Nothing else to say or ask? Are you idiots just going to stand there with those stupid looks on your faces? Morons." I usually didn't stand up to people when they talked shit. I liked that they were confused and did not expect me to stand up for myself. I felt empowered.

As I continued my walk to my bedroom, Bob asked, "So...Is that your way of encouraging us to ask you questions?"

None of them had ever asked me anything. All they did was make comments about my looks. I thought to myself, 'Maybe they never asked because they were intimidated for some reason.' Just because they had always been around and never asked me anything didn't mean they didn't have questions. I always thought they didn't like me or only viewed me as a piece of meat once I got older. I was curious about what they would ask or what they wanted to know. I lowered my guard for once, "What do you losers want to know?" I asked. I added, "If it's questions about my ass, keep those questions to yourself." I wanted to set clear boundaries.

Bob smiled, "Come have a drink with us while we wait for your father. We'll be kind, I promise. We have a boatload of questions. None about your ass."

I asked, "Are you idiots sure my dad said to come tonight? I thought he was gone for another week. Should I call him to make sure?" I was trying to figure out if they had the correct night, and he told them to come by. Although they were here so often, I wasn't concerned that they were here. I was also smart enough not to drink with them even though a drink sounded good. Tonight was the first night I wasn't scheduled to work in months.

Bob, who I believed was already halfway to being drunk. Bob told me, "Yeah, I'm sure. You can call him if you want to. He probably finished early. He still rushes because he forgets you're an adult now. He forgets he doesn't need to rush home to you. You're not a teenager anymore."

I corrected him, "Um...Yeah, I am still a teenager. I'm only nineteen, idiot." Then I started laughing. The three of them were baffled by me laughing. Bob made sense, so I didn't have the need to call my father. Curiosity got the best of me; I decided to sit with them in the living room and let them ask me questions. I teased them, "Don't be scared. I don't bite. Ask me questions."

Bob started with, "I forgot you were still only nineteen. Why did I think you were so much older?"

I started laughing, "That's your question? Why did you think I was older than nineteen? Are you saying I look like an old hag?" All three started laughing, telling me that's not what they meant. I joked, "Ooohhh...So all of you thought I was an old hag?" I thought we started on a good note; we were all laughing at their expense. I was curious about what they wanted to know about me. I had always assumed they knew everything about me from being around me my whole life or if my father complained about me. I instructed them, "Go ahead, ask away."

Larry finally spoke, "To be honest, we didn't know how funny you were. You barely ever speak to us. How come you didn't let us know how funny you are?"

I have never been quick with answers when people ask me questions. This was a good question and not something I was expecting. All I came up with was, "I don't know. No one ever asked me or spoke to me." Suddenly, I was worried about coming across as an idiot. I told them, "Well, at least now you know I am funny. Maybe I'm not as stuck-up as you thought I was. Is that all you wanted to know?"

They all opened beers and toasted each other. Jimmy asked, "Are you sure you don't want one?"

I thought for a minute before I said, "Sure, I'll have one. Are you going to tell on me?"

"We aren't telling no one, nothing. Deal?"

I was feeling loose and decided to lighten up a little. "I'm trusting you, so deal it is. I won't tell if you don't" I wasn't sure if my father would be pissed at me for drinking. During high school, I hid it pretty well from him when I drank. Larry handed me a beer, and I held it out as I yelled, "CHEERS!" The four of us tapped our bottles. The three of them reaffirmed that we had a deal as we started chugging our beers. "Ok, we have a deal. What else do you idiots want to know?" I asked.

Larry was the first to speak, "Do you have a boyfriend?"

This was an easy question, "No, I do not. I don't want one."

Without hesitation, Jimmy jumped right in, "Do you have a girlfriend?"

This question confused me. Why would he think I was into girls? "Eww. No. I'm not into girls. Why would you ask me that?" All I could think was they have no idea of who I am.

Larry informed me, "It was just a question. We have never seen you with a guy. We were curious. We figured it was a legitimate question."

Before I had chance to respond, Bob asked, "Are you a virgin?"

I had to slow this conversation down. I finished my beer as I stared at the three of them. I told them, "Pass me another beer." Jimmy handed me another beer, and I immediately started chugging. "OK, where were we?" All three of them started laughing again. I started to think through their questions. "So...To be clear, the three of you sit around trying to figure out if I'm a virgin or if I'm into girls? I wonder how that conversation goes, perverts." Then I finished off my second beer, demanding another one. I was trying to avoid answering the questions.

To my surprise, they admitted that they did talk about me. Larry came right at me, "Yeah, we were curious. Are you going to answer the questions? Or are you scared?"

I have never feared anyone. I did not let people intimidate me or think they could get the best of me. Even though I did not want to share this information, I was not going to let them intimidate me. "None of you scare me. No, I am not a virgin, but I'm not a whore, either. Just because I didn't bring guys here doesn't mean I haven't been with one. And just because I don't have a boyfriend. It doesn't mean that I'm into girls either." I felt like I stood my ground, proving I wasn't going to be intimidated. I also didn't want to give the impression that they could make me nervous, even if they were. I quickly finished my second beer and asked, "Is this the best you clowns have?"

Bob asked, "Do you mean the questions or beers? We have stronger stuff. We don't think you could handle anything stronger than beer."

I was joking about the questions. But again, the challenge was laid out. I was not going to let them intimidate me. "How do you know what I can and can't handle?"

The three of them let out a loud 'Whoa' as they pulled out a bottle of Jack Daniels. Bob challenged me, "Well, here you go, tough girl. Are you sure you can hang, rookie?"

My brain told me to walk away and leave them alone. My pride told me, fuck them. "I can hang. Do you guys think this is my first rodeo? Fuck you! Give me the bottle."

Bob started gulping from the bottle before handing it to me. They started cheering me on as I put the bottle to my lips. Challenging me to guzzle from the bottle. As I drank the whiskey down, they started pulling money out on how long it would be before I puked. Jimmy said, "Don't worry, I'll hold your hair back. A little girl."

Again, I should have quit while I was ahead. I refused to succumb to being belittled. I told them, "If I don't throw up, I get the money. Deal?"

They all agreed I could have the money if I didn't puke. Larry asked, "If you do throw up, what do we get?"

I was not prepared for that question. "I don't know. You get to watch me bent over a toilet, embarrassing myself." The four of us were laughing as I started feeling the effects of the whiskey hitting me. I had never drunk hard alcohol, so my tolerance was low.

Bob came and sat next to me on the couch. He said, "I'd watch you bend over anything. You have a deal." Larry and Jimmy agreed it would be worth the money to watch me bend over.

I felt the need for a quick comeback before they got their hopes up. "I bet you pervs would like that. Well, no one is going to be seeing anything from me. Sorry to disappoint, I can hang." Larry opened another beer and handed it to me. I started swigging it down to try and wash the taste of whiskey out of my mouth. I asked, "When is my father supposed to be here?"

Jimmy said, "Let me call him. The last thing we need is coming home to his daughter being shitfaced." Jimmy got up and went into the kitchen with his phone to call my father. He returned a few minutes later, telling everyone, "We got the nights mixed up. Victoria was right. He's not going to be home for another week. Should we take off?"

Larry and Bob both shrugged their shoulders. As the whiskey was kicking in, I thought it was a good idea that they leave. I didn't want to appear nervous or scared, so I didn't provide any input to their dilemma. After a few minutes, Jimmy said, "We're all having a good time. Jim doesn't care if we hang out here. What about you, Victoria, do you care?"

My head was telling me they should leave. I didn't feel unsafe, and they are always here regardless. I also didn't want to come across as frail. "Looks like I win the money, losers." It was the best I could come up with.

As I started grabbing the money off the coffee table, all three of them put their hands on top of mine. Larry told me, "Not so fast, lady. We are staying. We're not done trying to make her puke. Now we know Jim won't be home; we don't have to look over our shoulders." They sat back down and opened beers for all of us. While Larry lifted his bottle, "Cheers everyone." We all clanged our bottles while shouting, CHEERS! In unison, we started guzzling down our beers. Larry was laughing. "I don't know why you're so happy. You're gonna be huddled up to a toilet soon."

I laughed at this. "Oh, really?" I challenged him. "You fuckin guys think you got it all figured out. Pass me the bottle." I took the bottle of whiskey and started pouring it down my throat. I was attempting to ignore the burning sensation. I handed the bottle to Bob, who was still sitting to the left of me. Jimmy came over to the couch and plopped himself down on the right side of me. I handed the bottle to Jimmy, "Your turn, pussy." Jimmy took a huge gulp and handed the bottle back to me. I informed him, "Not my turn. It goes to Larry next."

They all started laughing. Jimmy told me, "Rookie, it goes clockwise, not counterclockwise. It's your turn, then Bob, then Larry, then back to me. No wonder the drinking age is 21. 19-year-olds are soft."

At this point, I was well on my way to being done. I was woozy, but I didn't want to lose this game. "Whatever, Larry. Give me the fucking bottle." As I was drinking, I thought I was going to throw up on everyone. I quickly handed the bottle to Bob. Jimmy then reminded me that Larry was sitting across from us and that he was Jimmy. At that moment, I knew I should probably stop drinking. I told them, "Guys, I'm tapping out. I can't hang with you drunks." I leaned back in my seat. I needed my head to stop spinning.

The three of them were hooting and hollering. They were attempting to calculate when I'd be in the bathroom, puking. I told them I had to use the bathroom. Jimmy said, "I win. She's going to puke her brains out."

I reassured them, "I need to pee. I'm not going to puke." I got up to go to the bathroom and realized the short walk to the bathroom was going to be difficult. I was wobbly. Jimmy got up with me. "Where are you going?" I asked.

"To make sure you don't try and cheat. How do we know you aren't going to puke when you get in there?"

I did not like him following me to the bathroom. Jimmy did have a point, and I was unsure if i was going to get sick. "Whatever, Jimmy. Stand outside the door if you want. I'm winning that money." I walked towards the bathroom with his assistance. As we got to the bathroom door, we stopped as I told him, "This where you wait." He didn't say anything as we stood there looking at each other. Unexpectedly, Jimmy leaned in and kissed me. His tongue invaded my mouth. Instinctually, I kissed him back until I came to my senses. "Um...Jimmy. Stop, I'm not that drunk." I said as I attempted to move my mouth away from his. Jimmy was being aggressive in his attempts to continue the kissing. I pleaded, "Jimmy, c'mon. Don't be like this. We're having a good time. Don't ruin it. I'm not like that. I don't get drunk and fuck around."

Jimmy gripped my hips, pulling me into him. "It's just a kiss. Give me one more kiss. Then we can go back to having fun. Don't be like that." He pushed his lips onto mine. His tongue entered my mouth again.

I kissed him back. My hope was if I kissed him, he would stop. As I pulled away, I told him, "There you got your kiss. Now let me go pee. Please." Jimmy kept his word and let me go. When I got in the bathroom, I was struggling. I placed my hands on the sink to keep my balance. I started unbuttoning my jeans. I was struggling to get them down and was worried I was going to pee before I got them down. Finally, I got them off and fell onto the toilet. As I was peeing, I noticed my dad's sweatpants were hanging on the bathroom door. I knew I would never be able to get my tight jeans back up in the condition I was in. I got up, removed my jeans from my ankle, and turned the cold water on in the sink. The cold water felt good as I splashed it on my face.

I heard Jimmy knock on the door, and then it opened. Jimmy asked, "Hey, are you OK in here?"

I gasped as I stood there leaning on the sink, naked from the waist down. "Jimmy! What the fuck! Get out of the bathroom! What the fuck is wrong with you?"

Jimmy came in and closed the door behind him. "Victoria, are you OK? Why are you naked?" he asked as he walked up behind me. I turned around to tell him to get out again. Before the words could leave my mouth, Jimmy, again, shoved his tongue in my mouth.

I briefly kissed him, then pulled away again. "Please, Jimmy. This gotta stop. I just want the sweatpants on the door. Stop being a fuckin perv." To my surprise, Jimmy grabbed the sweatpants. He told me to lift my leg so he could help me put them on. I lifted one of my legs as Jimmy put my foot in. Then he helped me put the other leg in. "Thank you, Jimmy. I just needed something more comfortable." The pants were way too big for me. I just needed something easy to put on.

Jimmy started talking to me, "You're pretty fucked up, huh?"

"I am. I just need to stand here for a minute." As I said this, I noticed the sweatpants kept slipping down. Every time I reached for them to keep them up, I would lose my balance. I felt like I had screwed up. Jimmy stood in front of me, watching as I struggled to keep my pants up. I asked, "Are you enjoying the show?" as I let out a giggle. I was embarrassed.

"Don't worry, Victoria. I'll take care of you. Let's take you back to the other room so you can sit down. Maybe your pants will stop falling. You only have one hour left until you win the bet. OK?"

I was not sure if I was going to last an hour. I wanted to get out of the bathroom and sit down. "Yeah, let's get back to the couch. Thank you, Jimmy. You're sweet."