Idiot's Guide to Your First Love

The drive to school was quiet. I surveyed Dad out of the corner of my eye the whole ride. He didn't seem like he was mad. He looked like he was in a good mood, whistling along to the radio and tapping his fingers on the steering wheel to the beat. At a stop light, he flicked his wrist and angled the back of his hand towards his face to look at his watch. His watch! He was wearing the watch. A thrill of pride and happiness filled me. After that, it didn't seem to matter that he was driving me to school. Besides the fact that it was abnormal, it was pleasant. Comfortable. Right.

The ride ended sooner than I would have liked. It wasn't often that Dad and I were together like this. He was always at work or working in his office and the only time we had alone was during dinner. I felt like I wasted the potential for quality time with him. I stepped out of the car and turned to shut the door, waving my goodbye as the door closed. He rolled down the window.

"Oh, and I'll be back this afternoon to pick you up. Have a good day!" he said cheerily, before pulling away.

* * * * *

It became common practice for Dad to drop me off and pick me up from school. He didn't miss a day and was never late. It quickly became my favorite time of the day. He would tell me about work, something he never had during our dinners. He didn't need to ask about school, as I always volunteered the information, but I know he would have if I hadn't. We would sing along to the radio together, and now and then he would call the radio station just before picking me up and request one of our favorite songs so I could hear it when I got into the car. We stopped using the delivery service and started going grocery shopping together. The more time we spent together that happier I became, and it seemed to be the same for him.

Life moved easily. The years passed quickly. Birthdays and Christmases came and went. Charlie had long since stopped being interested in me and started seeing a girl who put out and didn't have a "crazy" dad. His and my dad's confrontation got around school quickly, and Charlie exaggerated the details by telling people Dad threatened to kill him. That deterred a lot of boys from asking me out. I still had plenty of friends. Though, most people had stopped coming around the house as much, especially when the girls who were more interested in my "hot" dad than me had given up their often less than subtle pursuits, as he showed zero interest in them.

I finished each grade with high honors. I attended both my Junior and Senior proms with a group of friends. I graduated in the top of my class, though I did not make valedictorian or even salutatorian. However, I was still one of the highest ranked students. I scored well on my SATs, which allowed me to get into a lot of schools. I applied to quite a few, and while I didn't get into any Ivy Leagues, I had some excellent choices. Truth be told, though, I didn't want to leave my dad. I felt like I had spent a lifetime not knowing him and I didn't want to lose any more time. So, I chose to go to the University of Washington, which is a good school, in its own right. My savings came in handy for the first semester, and I even had some left over for the rest of the school year. We had made a deal that if I did well in school my first year, he would pay for each subsequent year, grades permitting. Although, I feel like he would have paid for my first year, too, if I had asked.

I continued to stay at home while going to school. The drive was much further than my high school, so I asked Dad if he would be willing to help me get a car. He told me that he wasn't sure if I was responsible enough for a car, but he would let me use his, only I would have to drop him off at work and pick him back up. He said he would use this to test my responsibility. I wasn't disappointed. Our daily commute was something I would have greatly missed.

I made several friends in my courses. Kyla, another freshman who shared my microbiology major, and I became particularly close. She would often spend the night at my place, or I at hers, during late night study sessions. Dad was cool about it as long as he knew where I was and if I promised I wouldn't be partying. I confessed a lot of secrets to Kyla. Things I had never even told my high school friends. She knew I was a virgin, still, despite being 18. I told her that I had become more and more interested in sex, though I hadn't ever met someone to whom I was willing to "lose it." She advised me to get on birth control because I never knew when it would happen, and I wouldn't want to take any chances if the opportunity arose. I knew that I would have a hard time remembering to take a daily dosage, so at my doctor's appointment, I got the birth control shot. They assured me that they would call me when I needed to redo my dosage in three months.

* * * * *

"You've gained weight," Dad said, matter-of-factly, at dinner one night.

College life had hit me harder than I expected. With all the late night studying and working, not only was I always tired, but I had also gained about 15 pounds. I didn't think this caused me to be unattractive; in fact, I would say the opposite. I thought the weight gain filled me out well. It gave me curves I lacked before. I now had a woman's figure. I know guys at school had noticed because I would catch them checking me out. Though, I had also finally come into my looks and thought I took after my mother quite a bit.

I pushed my plate away with a glare.

"You don't look bad," he said, laughing, "I just noticed."

* * * * *

A couple of months after school began, I started to get sick. I was overstressed and overworking myself trying to make sure I didn't fail out of school. The pressure was getting to me, and I was quite sick for a few days. I would catch Dad looking at me intently before he would quickly look away. Any time I asked him why he was looking at me, he just said "nothing."

His 38th birthday passed pleasantly, although, he seemed like he had something on his mind, though he denied it when I asked. I was trying hard to believe him, but he was increasingly more and more distant as time passed. I thought maybe he wanted me to move out, as I was an adult now. Though, when we were discussing the possibility of me living on campus, he was the one who suggested I stay home.

One evening, after dinner had been cleaned up, I was working on an assignment when I heard my father stomp into the kitchen.

"What is this!?" he yelled, positively furious.

I looked at his outstretched hand.

"Uh... the bathroom trash bin?"

"Where are they? They haven't been in here! Where are they, Lilith!"

Utterly confused, having no idea why my father was holding the bathroom garbage while very, very angry, I just stared at him without a response.

"WHERE?!" he bellowed.

"Where are what?!" I exclaimed, "I don't know what you're talking about?"

He huffed and tried to speak, but I honestly think he was just too angry to form any words, so they came out in a garbled mess.

He threw the trash can down, making me jump, and stalked off toward his office. I was waiting to hear the door slam, but it never came. Instead, not long after he left did my father come charging back into the kitchen. He slammed a notebook down in front of me, causing me to flinch, and opened it. No, it was not a notebook; it was his monthly planner.

"There!" he said, with a point to a page on his planner.

I looked at the page, trying to find anything out of the ordinary, but it just seemed like his typical day to day schedule. I looked at him with all the lack of understanding that I could muster into my expression.

He growled, flipped back a couple of pages and pointed.

"There! It's there!" he then flipped back to the first page. "But it's not there!" he flipped forward another couple pages. "Or there!" He flipped back several pages. "It's there. And there. And there" he continued as he flipped farther into the past dates.

I took the planner from him and studied the pages. He had marked some dates with a simple "L.P." in the top right corner. I slowly turned the pages, noticing that every month there was a series of five or six days that had the initials "L.P." in the corner. Up until the last two previous months, that is. Something sparked my memory, as I looked at the dates.

I reached in my bag and pulled out my monthly planner and opened to the dates where he had marked "L.P." Realization finally dawned on me. I looked at my dad with narrowed eyes.

"Have you been monitoring my periods?!" I asked, angrily.

"Oh, don't get that tone with me, not when you are in the condition you are. Who's the father?" he demanded.

"What are you even—I am not pregnant!"

"Then how do you explain this!?" he yelled, angrily pounding his forefinger down on his planner.

I rolled my eyes in disbelief.

"Not that it's any of your business, but I started taking birth control. It stopped my periods."

He made a choking noise.

"Like hell, it isn't my business!" He yelled. "Who are you fucking?"

I snorted angrily.

"No one, Dad."

"Yeah, right... Then why the hell are you on birth control?"

I paused, lowering my eyes. While I was angry about the invasion of privacy, I also didn't like the idea of admitting that I had been thinking about having sex. Not with anyone specific, just that I wanted to have it. Honestly, no one seemed to pique my interest, but I seemed to be getting hornier by the day and masturbating on a more frequent basis. I couldn't help but get red in the face as I thought about him knowing just how sexually frustrated I was. Although, it didn't escape my notice that it wasn't because I was embarrassed. I almost wanted him to know. His overprotective nature made me feel warm inside. It made me feel alive. I wanted him to be angry at the idea that I was having sex. That revelation startled me.

"Just in case," I murmured, my eyes still cast down.

"Just in case what?" he asked angrily.

I met his eyes, the anger in them sending sparks through my body.

"Just... just in case," I said with a shrug

He let out a loud sigh as if he was letting go of the weight of the world.

"You will stop taking it," he commanded. "Immediately."

I looked at him incredulously. He had to be joking. He couldn't make me stop taking birth control. I was an adult, now.

"I will not!"

"You will while you are under my roof! You are not having sex! You will not ruin your life for some boy!"

"Then—then I will get an apartment!" I threatened.

He laughed humorlessly.

"And with what money?"

I didn't know - all my savings having been expended to pay for my first year - but I wasn't backing down.

"I'll get a job!"

"By all means," he said, coldly, before exiting the room, leaving his planner behind.

I hadn't expected him to accept it. I thought he would fight me. Apologize for being so unfair. Convince me that I should stay. Despite 'winning' I felt defeated. I didn't mind that he was so protective of me, in all honesty. I was just angry that he thought the worst of me instead of just asking me about it first. I picked up my books and bag and carried them to my room, no longer motivated to finish my homework. I sat on my bed trying to plan out my next course of action. I was still feeling stubborn and didn't want to admit that I didn't want to move out.

Could I move out? Maybe Kyla would room with me. I dismissed that idea almost as soon as I thought it. She lived in the dorms and first years weren't allowed to live off campus, unless they were at home, so that wasn't a possibility. The semester was almost over, so maybe I could talk to the school about getting a dorm room next semester. I wasn't sure if that was even possible. I knew that I wouldn't be able to afford an apartment on my own with only working a part-time minimum wage job. Not in the city, anyway. And I couldn't work full time if I wanted to continue going to school.

I laid in bed for a while thinking and overthinking about my options. I must have fallen asleep at some point because I woke up to find that midnight had passed, and it was nearing 2 am. I realized I hadn't finished my assignment that was due in just a handful of hours. I got out of bed, still groggy, but determined to complete my homework. I was not going to fail just because my life was falling apart.

I went downstairs to make some coffee, knowing I would need the caffeine not only to finish in time, but also to make it through the day. I heard the T.V. on in the living room, thinking Dad must have left it on accidentally. I walked to the entrance between the living room and the kitchen before stopping in my tracks. The image in front of me nearly made me gasp. The volume on the T.V. was low, but I could make out the moans and gasps as the two figures in the video gyrated and bucked against each other. Dad was sitting on the couch, leaning with his head on the back. I saw the profile of his face and noticed his lowered, yet unclosed, eyelids. He seemed to be intently watching the porno. His arm was jerking, though I could only see his upper arm, and didn't see where his arm met his hand. There was no doubt he was masturbating.

I could not look away. I was caught in a trance, watching my father please himself while he watched a young, supple woman impale herself repeatedly on another man's cock. I wasn't even paying attention to the video. My entire focus was on my father. The way his arm moved, slowly at first, then moving faster and faster. The way he grunted and sighed. I was captivated. It wasn't until he groaned loudly, and his self-ministrations slowed, that I realized I should not be watching.

I darted back to my room as quickly and quietly as I could. Once I was safely behind closed doors, I let out the breath I hadn't realized I was holding in. I leaned against the back of my door, still breathless and feeling feverish. I had just watched my father bring himself to orgasm. More than that, I liked it.

I let out a shaky breath, as the scene replayed in my mind. I hadn't been able to see my dad's manhood, though the mystery of what he might look like was arousing on its own. However, hearing him groan in pleasure was positively delightful. I knew I shouldn't have watched him - it was a private moment - but the fact that it was something I shouldn't have done made it even more exciting.

I reached my hands under my pants and felt myself. I was wet with arousal. I took my pants off, allowing myself to stay in my underwear and shirt before I laid on my bed. Slowly, I began to tease my clit, rubbing in slow, circular motions with the tip of my finger. I was already so sensitive that a moan escaped my lips. I rubbed my fingers along the entrance of my pussy, letting the wetness coat my fingers, before bringing them back to my clit to tease me some more. A shudder fell through me as I felt my pussy clench in anticipation. I inserted two fingers inside me with little resistance, as my arousal made the penetration easy and smooth.

I groaned when I had filled my pussy with my fingers. I pulled them out slowly before shoving them back in. I could hear the slickness of my pussy as I moved my fingers in and out, as I made myself climb toward my climax. The sound of it turned me on even more, as I imagined how it would sound if it were something... someone else inside me. My father jerking off flashed in my mind before I could control the thought, and the orgasm that followed took me by surprise. It took over my body, and I couldn't prevent the loud moan that came from me as I felt the walls of my pussy clenching repeatedly around my fingers, my hips thrusting involuntarily upwards. It was the most powerful orgasm I had ever had and seemed to stretch longer than ever.

It took me a moment to recover. I laid on my bed with my fingers still inside me, still feeling the aftershocks of my violent orgasm. I could tell pussy fluids covered my hand, and again I thought of my father coming. How much did he come? Did he make as much of a mess as I had?

Almost reluctantly I pulled my fingers from my body. The release I had was incredible, but I felt like I needed more. I had never had anything more substantial than my fingers inside me, but I knew I needed to be filled by something more. That was the only way I knew could be satiated.

I thought about trying to make myself come again, but I needed to get my homework finished. With I sigh, I stood and decided that since I was already half undressed, I may as well get into my pajamas. Almost as soon as I pulled them on, I heard a soft knock on my door. My heart skipped a beat.

I pulled open the door and saw my father standing there.

"I saw your light was still on, so I figured you were still awake," he said. "May I come in?"

Without a word, I opened the door wide enough to let him pass. As he walked through the door his body brushed against mine, and a shiver ran through me, straight to my already growing arousal. I could not get the scene from downstairs out of my head.

I wondered if the room smelled like my sex. I had already come, and I didn't doubt the room smelled of it. I should have been ashamed. I should not have been having those thoughts about my father. But unabashedly, I was hoping he could smell my arousal. I felt a twinge in my lower regions at the thought.

He didn't show if he smelled it. Nothing in his facial expressions changed as he sat on my bed. I eyed him, speechless from curiosity, but also from the dirty images I could not stop from entering my mind. He patted the bed next to him, gesturing for me to sit next to him. Closing the door, I obliged him, wordlessly.

"I think we should talk about what happened downstairs."

Panic surged through me. Did he know I saw him? Was he going to tell me how inappropriate it was? Was he disappointed in me? Did he find me demented and twisted? I remained silent.

With a sigh, he put a hand on my hands, which were clasped together in my lap.

"I'm sorry for getting so angry with you," he said, taking me by surprise. "It's just..." he looked away as if he struggled to find the words, "I don't want to see you tied down to some low-life. You're not like your—" He glanced at me once more. "You need to finish school before you consider getting... involved." His jaw clenched at the end of his statement.

"I know, Daddy." I felt him squeeze my hands. "I was only trying to be responsible. I'm a woman, now. It's bound to happen sooner or later, and I would rather be prepared than to put myself at risk."

His look darkened with an emotion unknown to me.

"Just promise me you won't rush into anything with anyone," he said, his voice almost pleading. "Wait a while."

"I promise, Daddy." I gave him a warm smile, relieved that we were no longer fighting.

He raised my hands to his lips to kiss them. He lingered against them, eyes snapping to mine with an intensity that pinned me to my seat. I knew then that he smelled me.

My heart began beating a mile a minute. Dad didn't pull away immediately but instead stared in my eyes as he continued to hold my hands to his lips. We said nothing. I could feel the tension in the room solidify, the heat building in my body and settling in my core.

Suddenly, he dropped my hands and stood, stepping away from the bed in an almost frantic way. He cleared his throat loudly.

"You should get some sleep," he said gruffly, heading to the door.

Disappointment filled my soul. His sudden desire to be away from me tore straight through me. When he hadn't pulled away, I had allowed myself to hope that maybe he wanted me as much as I suddenly found that I wanted him. His abrupt departure dashed my hopes, and I felt foolish for believing it possible. He was my father. Of course, he didn't think of me that way; I was his daughter. I shouldn't be thinking of him that way. Perhaps I was twisted.