Porn Star's Daughter Ch. 09

Looking away, I muttered under my breath, "Not exactly." Louder, I said, "Um, yeah, I guess so."

Almost immediately, I felt guilt splash over me. Only a few hours ago, this woman had given me the best sex of my life, had opened up a whole world for me that I never new existed. Okay, it was the only sex of my life, but it was still the best. And I thank her, repay her, by lying?

I turned to face her, and opened my mouth to tell her everything. I was prepared to launch into a mad rush, explaining how Simone had been tormenting me for weeks for no reason other than the fact that she could, tell her about Mr. Rawlins, tell her about how spontaneous "gifts" and the embarrassing pity party in class.

I wanted to tell her everything. I felt that I owed her something. I wasn't sure what, exactly, but I wasn't the kind of person who normally kept secrets from people, and I certainly wasn't in the habit of lying. Tracy had given me something last night (why do they say someone took your virginity, anyway?) and the pressure to give her something back in kind was beginning to build.

However, nothing would come out. The words caught in the back of my throat like a physical presence -

What, dildo got your tongue, Shannon? Team Morality could be such a bitch.

- and for some reason I simply couldn't speak. Tracy was busy with the mixing bowl, so she wasn't looking at me, thank god, but I felt foolish nevertheless.

Before I had a chance to change my mind and say something, the door opened and my father stormed in, catching us both off guard. For a man who had gotten laid only twelve hours earlier, he was incredibly tense and irritable. He stopped short, looked from Tracy to me, and back again, and he forced a grim smile.

"I'm sorry, ladies," he said, obviously trying to control a temper that threatened to emerge. "I had wanted to spend the day with the both of you, but... something came up."

"What is it, Rod?" Tracy asked, concerned.

Dad flicked his eyes at me. it was only for a second, before returning them to Tracy. "Someone at work lost some very important documents," he said. "I need to take care of it. Today."

He was looking at Tracy pointedly, and she slowly nodded. "Uh oh," she said. "Is it that long-term project?"

He nodded.

"Do you need any help?" Tracy asked. "I could go help you look."

He started walking over to the coffee maker. "No, thanks," he said. He was obviously still very upset. "The last thing I need is to look like there's a conflict of interest."

Tracy looked at me. I must have looked confused, because she said, "I'm an inspector for the state and I'm not even supposed to know about this."

"Oh, right!" I said. After everything that had happened, I vaguely remembered my father telling me this the day before.

"Do you have time for breakfast?" Tracy asked, indicating the half-made pancake batter.

He smiled, sipping his cup of hot coffee. "There's always time for pancakes," he tried to joke.

Breakfast wasn't what I expected at all. Unlike the banter and playfulness of the previous day, all three of us remained quiet and lost in our thoughts. My father was the most distracted, and Tracy seemed genuinely concerned about him. I hoped that whatever it was that had him so worried wasn't going to mess things up. It looked like she really cared for him.

"Why don't you go get your things, Shannon," my father said as we were finishing up. "After I help Tracy clean up, I'll take you home."

"I can help," I offered. I didn't like my father being this upset, and wanted to do something to help him feel better. It felt like the least I could do.

"No, that's okay, sweetie," Tracy said, looking at me. "I think we've got this."

I blinked. It was clear I was being dismissed, and Tracy's assertiveness struck me as, I don't know, premature. This was still my dad's house, and he was still my father. It felt like she had overstepped her bounds, just a little. I guess I was expecting my father to answer me, not Tracy. I looked from her, to him, and back to her again. When he didn't intervene, I chalked it up to him being distracted by his phone call.

A little stunned, I got up and went upstairs. As I climbed the stairs and got to the place where I had watched them fuck only the night before, I heard them talking in hushed whispers. I couldn't hear anything that they said, but it sounded pretty intense.

I didn't have many things to pull together, so I simply double-checked my bag (and made sure the offending dildo was secreted back inside), and headed down the stairs. As I did, I saw Tracy already had her purse and car keys, and was waiting for me by the door. I looked back at the kitchen and saw my father quickly putting things into the dishwasher.

"I thought -" I said, but Tracy cut me off.

"It's okay, baby," Tracy said. "Your father is really stressed right now, and it's best that he takes care of this emergency. I'm going to go."

"Okay, but I - " I started, but Tracy held up a finger.

"Look, I had hoped that we could talk more today. Maybe," she said, looking at my body again like she could devour me on the spot. I felt my legs wobble a little. "Maybe we could chat a little later on the phone."

She reached into her purse, and pulled out a business card. She handed it to me, and said, "That's my personal cell number there at the bottom. Call me later."

She looked past me at my father, who was completely focused on clearing up the breakfast mess. Then, she pulled me close to her and kissed me, pressing the card into the palm of my hand. I felt it move to brush my nipple, which launched to attention.

"I'll make it worth your while," she whispered conspiratorially. She looked down at my nipples protruding through my shirt (god, will they ever not embarrass me?), and licked her lips. "What I wouldn't give to suck on those beautiful titties right now."

I stood there, frozen, unsure of what to say or do. She looked past me and called out to my father, preventing me from doing anything at all. "Call me later, Rod!" she said.

"Will do!" he called back, distracted.

She opened the door, then looked back at me and winked. "Remember, he's mine," she said playfully. "Don't do anything I wanna do."

Then she was gone, and the door closed behind her. I stood there, holding my bag and looking at the closed door in confusion. What did that mean?

There was no time to contemplate, as the next thing I knew my father was standing next to me with his keys, phone, and wallet. "Ready to go?" he asked. He obviously was.

The ride home was done mostly in silence for the first half of the trip. My father was lost in deep thought, and I had been trying to reconcile everything that happened in the past day. It felt overwhelming.

Could he know? No, he was too absorbed and upset about the lost documents. What if Tracy told him when I went upstairs to pack my things? No, that would definitely have been the wrong time, given how angry he was. There wouldn't have been a cheerful departure if she had done that. Why would she have done such a thing, anyway?

I worked my way backwards, from saying goodbye to Tracy to the shower I took this morning, to the uncomfortable masturbation session. I had come just by thinking of Simone being tormented by would-be ninja assassin lovers. Well, at least that's how it formulated in my head.

I reflected back on that fantasy for the moment. Simone was naked, writhing, held down and titillated until she was ready to explode. But she didn't explode, I did. I stole it from her, and robbed her of what she wanted the most in the world at that moment. Her orgasm was mine.

Power. That's what it was that gave me the rush. Taking her power, using it for myself, that was the reason why I was able to come so hard with that fantasy. I couldn't care less that Simone was naked, or getting groped by faceless men - it was that I stole it from her.

I had reclaimed it with a vengeance during my morning fantasy. Like the dildo, it was a new sex toy, and one that I wanted to try out again and again.

Tracy had been the reason for that fantasy, I was sure of it. She had opened up something inside of me, and I wanted to crawl back into the past and relive last night over and over again. Tracy seemed to take all the power away from me, and in doing so I felt I was able to be free - even if just for a moment.

Giving, taking, losing, reclaiming - so much wrapped up in power and its uses. She had taught me so much in such a short span of time. What was it, a few hours? I just hoped I had given her as much as she had given me, and -

An unexpected wave of embarrassment suddenly passed over me, washing away the warmth and tingling sensations that were beginning to grow in my lower belly. Uncertainty and doubt crept around a corner of my mind. Did I do it right? What should I have done differently? Did she get something from me at all?

Chaotic images came back out of order. I thought back to when she turned me away from her, wrapping her arms around me and diving her fingers into my jeans. For some reason I remembered that I didn't know what to do with my hands. What should I have done with my hands?

What about when she sat on my face? She held my head to her pussy, and I lapped away at her clit the best I could, but I could still feel her pulling my hair. My god, it felt good to feel that desire coming from her, but was she doing it because I was absolute crap?

I shuddered. Was I a bad lover? Did she need to grind against my face because I couldn't do it right?

No, no, that wasn't possible. She had said she wanted to spend more time with me today, that she wanted me to call her later. But wait, was she just being nice?

There was a rising panic in my chest, and I wanted to take out her business card and call her right away. I felt a strong need to apologize to her, to hear her tell me that I wasn't that bad. She had come, after all, so I couldn't have been terrible, right?

My cheeks felt flush. No, I had been too focused on my own pleasure. I had been fucking myself with that huge, enormous, gorgeous dildo, and I hadn't been paying enough attention to Tracy. All I had wanted to do was fuck and get fucked. It was all about me, me, me.

What could I have done? What should I have done? Maybe I could have held onto her hips with both hands and licked her with more effort, more intensity. I could have shoved that dildo up inside my cunt and held it there with the heel of my foot if I had to, just to focus on her first - like she did for me.

God, she was showing me what to do and I had missed it! She had taken care of me - twice - and I had to be told to repay the favor? Fuck me, I didn't even finger her! Or did I? No, I couldn't have.

I was a horrible lover.

How could I make it up to her? When was there a time when I would be able to get her alone, get another chance at doing it right? My mind raced to try to figure out a way to contrive visiting my father again as soon as possible.

Replaying the previous night's events in my head was exhausting, but I couldn't help myself. I wanted a do-over, wanted to try again now that I was more experienced. I wanted to call her right now, hear her voice while I unzipped my jeans and... dammit, but that wasn't going to happen. Not with my father right next to me.

The tips of my ears began to burn with shame. I pulled my hair over to one side so that my father couldn't see my face, not that he was paying attention to me anyway. If he saw me, he would surely ask what I was thinking. I had a terrible habit of showing every emotion on my face, plain as day.

Team Morality seethed in my head. I kept stealing glances at my father from time to time, but he was only looking at the road.

I was in complete internal conflict. I felt embarrassed sitting next to my father, fantasizing about his girlfriend and remembering the sex we had had. Here he was, though, completely innocent and absorbed in his crisis to notice. He didn't deserve to be cheated on, especially with his own daughter.

To my horror, I felt Team Morality start to pry open my lips to confess everything to him. It was all going to come out, how it had all started when she helped me with my nipple problem, how I watched them have sex (can I watch again?), how she slipped into my room after he fell asleep and made me feel more wanted and desired and sexual and liberated than I ever imagined that I could feel, and...

"So what do you think of Tracy?" my father asked, breaking into my internal dialogue.

Fuck me, can he read my thoughts? By some miracle, Team Morality suddenly got cold feet. The rug had slipped out from underneath, abandoning any thoughts of suicidal revelations. "I think she's amazing," I said, honestly. "You two seem to be made for each other."

My father nodded, never taking his eyes from the road. "Yeah, she's an incredible woman."

And she is incredible in bed, too! I thought, despite myself.

"It's not often that you get a second chance," my father continued. "I thought I'd lost her forever."

Today's lesson, boys and girls, is that the well of guilt is bottomless. He obviously really liked her, and he had no idea of what we had done, what she was capable of.

No, what we were capable of. Tracy and me. His girlfriend and his daughter. Team Morality picked up their knives, and started sharpening them. This was going to cut, and cut deep.

"So, uh," I said, not sure I wanted to know the answer to the question. "What happened? Why did you guys break up so long ago?"

My father's jaw set, and a strange look crossed his face. "It was my fault, really," he said.

"Did you cheat on her?" I asked, the question popping out of my mouth before I had a chance to stop it. Secretly, I hoped that he had. It might make what I had done a little less egregious. But only by a little.

"Oh, no, nothing like that," he said, and a genuine smile appeared on his face for the first time that morning. He seemed to be remembering something. "Besides, Tracy isn't really the jealous type."

I blinked. I looked at him to see if he was joking, or being ironic.

Remember, he's mine, Tracy's voice echoed in my head. Last night, she basically said the same thing. She said it twice in as many days - less than twelve hours apart, even. Isn't that the kind of thing that a jealous person would say?

Then again, why would she be jealous of me? He's my father, after all. Maybe I had a slight Elektra complex, and she was just teasing me. There's no way I'd be an actual threat.

Then again, I did have a replica of his dick and she knew I was willing to fuck it. Maybe she actually was warning me away from him. What if he was wrong?

Then something occurred to me. What if I was wrong? Did Tracy know something I didn't know? Did she somehow look into my soul and see something that I had yet to confess, even to myself? She seemed to read me like a book, so maybe I was missing something. Did I want to fuck my father, for real? Was she really concerned about that? Was I?

"Relationships are complicated," my father said, thankfully breaking my train of thought. "Sometimes it's about timing, that's all."

"Timing is everything," I recited back to him.

He glanced at me, and patted my thigh. "Wise beyond your years," he said.

He didn't mean anything by it. It was a friendly, comforting touch. At least, that's what he intended it to be. He didn't try to send a searing fire on my thigh, didn't want to wake Team Shutupandfuckme from its slumber. Yet it happened, nevertheless.

Dear god, maybe Tracy was right after all.

Then his hand was gone. Before I knew what I was doing, and without my brain engaging at all, I saw my own hand reach out to pat his thigh too.

I patted it twice, and then left it there. I felt the warmth of his leg, felt the curvature of his muscles. Did I feel a twitch? Or was I just imagining it?

My father looked at me, a puzzled look on his face. Thinking fast, I said, "True wisdom comes from knowing that you know nothing."

A broad smile broke out over his face. "That's us, dude!" he said, completing the quote.

"All we are is dust in the wind," we said in unison. "Dude!"

We broke out in laughter. There's nothing like a little Bill and Ted's Excellent Adventure to right the ship. It was the right thing, at the right moment. I withdrew my hand, breathing a sigh of relief that I had escaped a very awkward situation.

The feeling of touching his thigh didn't go away, however. My palm still burned with the memory of his muscular leg, and I turned to stare out my passenger window with wide, panicked eyes. What the actual fuck, Shannon!?

What if he "dressed right" today, you idiot? Team Morality was on a tear. What if you had actually touched his dick, Shannon?

Yeah, Team Shutupandfuckme chimed in. What if you grabbed onto his dick?

Oh god, I really was a pervert.

"Thanks, Shannon, I needed that," my father said. At first, I was confused, having already moved on in my head to a different conversation. I looked at him again and saw that he was smiling, a little more relaxed.

"Dad?" I asked, a thought suddenly popping into my head. I hesitated, not wanting to sour his mood, but unsure of when I would get the chance to ask again.

"Yes, Shannon?" he prompted.

"Why didn't you and Mom ever get married?" I asked.

He looked surprised. "Your... Mom?" he repeated. "Michelle?"

I tried to joke. "Do you know of any other Moms, Dad?" I teased.

"No, it's just..." he trailed off, thinking.

"Is it because," I tried to find the courage to say the words. "Is it because she's stupid?"

My father snapped his head to look at me. He had a sharp look on his face, the needle crossing over from irritated to just short of angry. "Shannon," he said, his voice piercing into my skull. "I never want to hear you disrespecting your mother like that. Do you hear me? Never again."

It was a very fatherly reproach. It was also something I had never heard from him before. I shrank back into my seat, unsure how to process this tone of voice. It was new to me, and I didn't like it one bit.

Even so, his attitude was puzzling to me. Thinking about it, I honestly couldn't understand my parents' dynamic. He always seemed friendly and supportive. I had never wanted for anything important in my entire life. Still, as bubbly and flirtatious as my mother was, she cooled considerably whenever my father was nearby. She didn't hate him, per se, but her demeanor changed whenever he was around. He never complained, but I didn't expect him to rush to her defense, either.

"I, I - " I stammered. "I wasn't trying to be disrespectful, I promise. I just wanted to know why you and Mom never even tried to make it work."

The words came out of my mouth before I could check them. I didn't mean to make them sound like a challenge, and hopefully my tone of voice softened them a little. There was no escaping the pointed and direct question, however.

"Look, Shannon," my father began, after a moment. He was obviously uncomfortable, and hadn't been planning on his mostly-estranged daughter finally asking questions that she should have asked years before. "Your mother is an absolute saint. She's beautiful, friendly, and would give everything for the people she loves."

That didn't answer my question. I got the distinct impression he was trying to put a very kind face on an ugly mask. "But she's not very smart," I said, and then held up my hands quickly to appease another outburst. "I'm not being disrespectful! I just mean that it can be a lot of... work... when someone is..."