"But you have so much more to teach me," I protested.
"You need a lesson that I can't give you," he said.
What was going on? I didn't understand. Just looking at his tightened pants I knew his cock was raging for my body. I wanted him to be my first. Maybe he didn't realize exactly what I was offering. My desperation rising, I decided to lay myself out there.
"I want you to fuck me, Daddy."
My stepfather's eyes widened in surprise. Then, almost instinctively, he looked me up and down, his gaze lingering on my tits. The tip of his tongue ran along his upper lip as he drank in the view of my round little curves. Almost immediately he snapped out of his trance.
"This conversation is over," he said.
He stormed away before I could change his mind.
II.
"Oh my god, your stepdad is so fucking hot," my best friend Sasha whispered, unabashedly staring at Christoph through the glass window of the yogurt shop.
Her eyes fixed on the window, Sasha dipped her plastic spoon into her soft-serve and stirred around the tiny red, blue, green and yellow sprinkles. I turned around just in time to see my stepfather driving through the parking lot after dropping me off. I could see the profile of his face. Yes, indeed, Mr. Christoph was quite the handsome man. But I couldn't admit that to Sasha. She already had enough ammunition to tease me.
"Don't be gross," I complained.
"Whatever!" Sasha giggled. "You know you'd love to jump on your daddy's D," she teased.
"Yick! Shut up!"
I playfully punched Sasha in the shoulder. She retaliated by flicking my boob with her finger, a surprise move that caught me completely off guard. I rubbed myself where Sasha thumped me, feeling the bump of my nipple hardening beneath my white halter top.
"Please, tell me if you don't want him," Sasha said breezily. "Hell, I'd consider giving up an ovary for one night with that man. Just picture him all alone in that huge house, with no one but you to keep him company. After putting up with you all these years, he deserves to be sucked and fucked by someone nice. It might as well be me!"
I laughed in spite of myself, picturing Sasha sucking off my stepdad. She was so pretty and a lot more experienced with guys than I was. I mean, I had barely made it to second base with boys, and not for lack of trying. They just preferred Sasha with her big boobs and round curves, not to mention her aggressive, in-your-face personality. I noticed guys checking her out all the time. I didn't blame them, because she pretty much oozed sex appeal and wasn't afraid to flaunt her goods.
I wondered what my stepdad would think of Sasha, and what he would do if he got his hands on those curves-kissing her, touching her, his hands on those big, perky tits. Her lips on his cock. It was fun to imagine, but it made me feel kind of jealous, too. I was his little girl, and I didn't feel like the idea of sharing him with anyone. Since my mom died, he had scarcely been on a date with another woman out of consideration for me, despite the fact that beautiful women were constantly throwing themselves at him. Now that I was going off to college soon, it only made sense that he would reconsider his stance on dating around, even entering a new relationship.
What if he found a woman when I was away at college? What if I came home for Christmas break, only to be introduced to some random lady? My face darkened at the thought of sharing Christoph with another woman.
One thing was sure. Whoever he ended up with, she better know how lucky she was to snag that man. She'd never have to work again, unless she wanted to. She'd never have to worry about a thing-and she'd be getting her hands on a man whose mere glance can make me go weak in the knees.
///
"Do you think he has a big dick?" Sasha asked.
"Probably," I sighed.
Sasha snickered.
"You know you're in love."
She tried to thump me again, but I swatted her hand away before she could touch my sensitive breast.
Our yogurt was melting and we were so distracted that we didn't even notice the group of guys who had just entered the yogurt shop. They were all in our graduating class, and we had walked across the stage together only a couple of weeks ago. They were behaving like a typical teenage dorks, elbowing each other and laughing. The tallest one, a slender guy named Riley, was a cute rich boy with freckles and red hair. His parents had already bought him three cars because he wrecked the first two. I had a little crush on him since our sophomore year of high school, but he had never given me the time of day.
Riley noticed us, and he immediately stormed over to our booth.
"Hello, ladies," he said.
"Hi," Sasha said flatly, not interested in engaging with Riley. She preferred the older men, not immature boys our own age. But I had always had a crush on Riley, ever since our sophomore year of high school. I didn't want to run him off. Even more significantly, he was supposed to be my partner during our big dance at the debutante ball.
"Oh, hey, Abbi, I almost didn't see you there," Riley said, in a false polite voice. "Are you ready for the big night? I sure hope so. The last time I saw you on a dance floor, I nearly spilled my drink you were such a riot. Let's hope you can get your act together by Friday. I'm not a fan of girls who don't know the difference between a two-step and the moonwalk."
"I know the difference," I muttered. "You don't have to worry about me. I'll be ready."
"That's what I like to hear," he smirked. "Now if you'll excuse me, something white and creamy is calling my name."
He blew us a kiss and spun around to join his friends at the yogurt machines. Sasha's eyes narrowed with disdain.
"What an ass," she said. "I can't believe you chose that guy as your partner."
"He's not all bad," I protested. "And anyway, it wasn't up for me to choose."
III.
The bright, white stage lights beamed into my face, practically blinding me.
It was the evening of the debutante's ball, and it was my turn to dance with Riley, my dance partner. He was wearing a blue tuxedo and his red hair had been slicked down with gel.
Riley and I were standing at opposite ends of the stage, but the plan was to meet at center stage and dance for the length of one entire song, as everyone watched us. The thought of all those eyes following my every move filled me with apprehension. Butterflies were flitting in my stomach and threatening to fly right up my throat.
I looked over at the audience that filled the cavernous room. That was a mistake. Close to three-hundred people were sitting at round white tables, drinking champagne and watching my every move. I frantically scanned the crowd, looking for my stepfather. There he was! Near the front, wearing a dapper black tuxedo with a white tie. His hair was slicked back, making him look very put-together and distinguished.
My stepfather flashed a winning smile of encouragement, and I returned the grin. He knew how to boost my confidence, at least enough to get me the last few steps to the center of the stage, where Riley was already waiting for me. The look on his face screamed, "Any time now, Abbi. We're waiting."
How embarrassing. At least I knew I looked good. My hair was done up, and I wore an elaborate and very expensive white dress. As I clicked across the stage in my high heels, my knees buckled and my legs felt as unsteady as a newborn pony's.
When I finally reached the center of the stage, Riley snatched my hand and we both turned to the audience, smiling for them. Then we turned back to face each other, and the eight-piece orchestra began to play. With my right hand in his, I placed my left hand on his shoulder and he gruffly wrapped his other hand around my waist. Smiling widely for the audience, he whispered through his teeth, "Don't fuck this up, Abbi. Everybody who's anybody is watching us."
The lights were so hot and bright, and all those expectant faces in the audience were trained on me. I could feel myself sweating nervously. Riley took a step to his right, practically dragging me along when I froze in place.
"Come on!" he seethed. "Get yourself together!"
He tugged at me angrily, trying to guide me through the dance moves we had practiced. I knew the moves. I'd worked hard for this moment, the evening I would be presented as a young woman to all of our social peers. But it's like my body rebelled, like my feet stopped working. What a disaster. I felt like crying, right there on stage in front of everyone.