Red Hair, Red Face

And that brought a much, much louder mental 'No!'...

My properly conscious mind finally got heard, but all it really had to say was, 'Panic! You've let this go too far, haven't you, little girlie? I'm not sure you're going to be able to stop things now...'. My eyes widened as I realised the truth of those words. I really had let things go too far – too far along the inevitable path of arousal, too far into my own little world of pleasure – and, oh my gods... My belly muscles began to twitch, and my eyes opened even wider as real panic washed through me.

No matter how many times I tried to tell myself this wasn't happening, couldn't be happening, no matter how hard I tried to control my over-excited teenage body... the fuse just burned brighter and brighter. And faster.

I remember my horror, remember looking down at myself, at the blouse gaping to reveal so much cleavage, and at my skirt pushed up by then to the very tops of my thighs – and at my pale blue panties so clearly visible to me... and therefore so clearly visible to my dad...

And then I realised his voice had gone much quieter, and when he said, softly, "Are you alright, GG?", I really panicked.

But still, I thought there was one last chance at control, one final opportunity to push back the seemingly inevitable. I grabbed at the hem of my skirt, trying to push it down to mask those treacherous panties and the even more treacherous belly within. It was the last chance... but I was on no fit state to do anything right by then.

I grabbed and pushed the material down... but I'd also grabbed the front of the blouse so as I pressed the skirt lower, buttons popped. One button might have been okay at a push, but three... Even as I felt the relatively cooler air of dad's study wash over a bared breast, the first wave started to strike, started to take over my young body.

I tried the last-ditch manoeuvre, tried to get off my dad and walk, run, stagger from the room – whatever it took to get me out of there. But two things conspired to make that a failure, the ultimate 'epic fail'. My hand was still pressing my skirt hard against my panties, hence hard against my now pulsing pussy – and worse yet, so much worse... or better... that hard lump in my dad's old trousers... it was... I was right on top of it. Sure, there was three layers of cloth between my own dad's hard member and my teenage womanhood – but it was right there. And my inner mind, my subconscious had one last tease for me. 'The best dildo ever, huh?' – and I was lost.

I never swore at home as a rule – but as the first wave of climax beat back the last remnants of my defences, I started to say "Oh, fuck!" over and over. And I knew that this was going to be a seriously big one.

All the suppressed desire, all the bottled-up arousal, all the preparation and planning... it exploded – and there was nothing left that I could do to stop it.

I tried to say that I was sorry between waves of pure climactic release, but somehow dad's super-understanding, his soft words of comfort – words like, 'natural, physical reaction', and 'fine young woman', and worse of all, 'the normal sexuality of youth' – just made things worse. Or better. And then he hugged me to him, one bare arm across my shoulders and the other... oh gods, the other bare arm across my chest – my breasts, my bared breasts¬ – my rock-hard nipples pressed against him...

And my treacherous body reacted to his understanding. It knew that it was too late to take anything back now – far, far, far too late... I didn't even try to stop my hand at my groin as I released the skirt, pushing it back higher with my forearm as my fingers sought and found my eager wetness through the flimsy, blue panties.

Still saying a mixture of 'Oh, fuck!' and 'Sorry!', I gave in completely when dad said, 'Let it all out, GG'... I squirmed against his hardness, masturbating almost topless on my own dad's lap – and fuck, did I climax so hard, time and again. It had all gone far too far, but it was a done deal and I gave control over to the stupid, moronic beast within me, at least understanding enough to know that dad seemed to comprehend what was happening on so many levels.

So, I squirmed more, pulled my other arm free of dad's comforting grip which bared my 'new' breasts completely to his eyes, I ground down and finally slipped my fingers inside my little, blue panties – and inside myself. I came again, thinking it was the final time – until dad said, "You really have become an incredibly attractive young woman, GG,". That may or may not have triggered yet another climax, but when he added, "And you've certainly swelled plenty here!" and cupped a naked breast... well, I had no chance of any sort of control.

You hear these stories where women say they came so hard they blacked out – and it's true I seldom believe that – but I do know that it really is possible – because it happened to me once. On my dad's lap that night.

It wasn't for long, and my mind was perfectly back in full conscious mode the second I opened my eyes.

Dad was back holding me in a gentle bear hug, and he'd had time to refasten my blouse and ensure my skirt was covering those little panties. All was back as it had been before his story had started – but everything was different as well.

I started to say I was sorry, but he shushed me and held me a little tighter and started to say I had nothing to apologise for... and that's when I lurched off of his lap and ran to my room, already crying.

And that is the interview answer I never gave.

I've thought about it from time to time – despite those efforts to suppress the memory that I've already mentioned – and I've trawled through a hundred different ways that night might have ended. I'm a storyteller, remember. All I've ever come up with, though, is a new or different type of embarrassment.

Of course, I understand that there are all sorts of possibilities that might have ended in smiles, but what has always blocked those paths is the plan and simple fact that dad never told me another bedtime story and I never once sat on his lap again. We have never even spoke of that night, not in the three decades that have now past – and yes, dad is still kicking around. You know, in all those years I don't think his eyes have ever strayed lower than my chin?

All I wanted back in my teens, it often seems to me, was a bigger bust. Well, I sure got that – but you know what they say? Be careful what you wish for...