eyes. Amy was a small blonde with blue eyes and the biggest tits I’d ever seen, and Marianne was a redhead with green eyes and freckles. It was like he’d gone out and selected them purposely like that. Amy looked like the cheerleader, the proverbial girl next door, Jacqui looked like a voluptuous Italian bombshell and Marianne looked like she’d just come over from Scotland, her short plaid skirt adding to the look.
I wondered where Dad found them if there was some kind of catalog for hot secretaries and he’d just ordered them from there.
Once my salad was served, the young brunette server left the dining room, and I felt the napkin on my lap move slightly. I was taking a bite of my food, but when something grazed against the zipper of my khaki trousers. I jolted, shocked and unsure of what I felt.
When I looked with wide eyes over at my father, he was casually eating his salad, but Amy had scooted her chair over, much closer to him. She was completely focused on doing something under the table. It took a moment for me to realize, but when I noted the slight movement of her bicep and where her gaze was focused, I was shocked.
Though I was only fourteen, I was already very tall, over six feet and somewhat muscular. I made varsity for football and basketball my first year in high school. Thanks to all that, female attention was not new to me. I was technically still a virgin, I didn’t have to be, and frankly, I had already done pretty much everything else or had it done to me.
So, when Jacqui unzipped my pants and slipped her hand inside, my body reacted, as it would, and I’d begun the strangest night of my life. Not wanting to disappoint him, I hadn’t protested, didn’t say anything to him, about cheating on my mom, about sleeping with his secretaries or encouraging his son to do the same. Regardless of my body's reaction, it was wrong.
It had taken me a while, but after the days of father-son bonding, I began to see him in an entirely different light. Thankfully when the festivities had gotten really advanced, he retreated to his own room – with Amy of course – so I hadn’t had to see him in that light. I could only imagine him watching me and critiquing my lack of style it or something.
By the end of the trip, I had done everything, with each of the assistants my father had brought on the trip. Sometimes one on one and sometimes, not. I felt dirty and disgusting after that week. Unable or unwilling to say no, but knowing what we were doing was so beyond wrong, I'd been changed forever.
I started to see the real man, behind the image he portrayed. He wanted the high life. To be top dog, to do whatever and whomever he pleased, whenever he pleased. Unfortunately, he was just an asshole.
That experience opened my eyes to something else too, though. I finally opened my eyes to see my mother. She had been docile, amiable - always, but she had begun to draw into herself more and more as the months progressed. A couple of times, I saw a red mark or a bruise on her. She always had a ready excuse, but I began to wonder if my father was marking her if he was hitting her.
I grew quickly and steadily through high school and by the time my junior year rolled around, I was taller than my father by at least two inches. A few times he tried to be domineering toward my mother and even once toward my sister, but I got in the middle of it quickly, diffusing the situation and he’d backed right down.
For some reason, it was important to him, that I respect him. He wanted me to like him and to look up to him. Of course, I didn’t, not anymore. I hadn’t let him know my true feelings. That had been the only thing I had to hold over his head, my approval.
Late, one Friday night, I pulled up in front of our ridiculously ostentatious house, turned off my mint condition sixty-nine Camaro and looked up at the mini-mansion.
I sensed that something was wrong, though I had no idea what it was. Nothing was out of place, of
I wondered where Dad found them if there was some kind of catalog for hot secretaries and he’d just ordered them from there.
Once my salad was served, the young brunette server left the dining room, and I felt the napkin on my lap move slightly. I was taking a bite of my food, but when something grazed against the zipper of my khaki trousers. I jolted, shocked and unsure of what I felt.
When I looked with wide eyes over at my father, he was casually eating his salad, but Amy had scooted her chair over, much closer to him. She was completely focused on doing something under the table. It took a moment for me to realize, but when I noted the slight movement of her bicep and where her gaze was focused, I was shocked.
Though I was only fourteen, I was already very tall, over six feet and somewhat muscular. I made varsity for football and basketball my first year in high school. Thanks to all that, female attention was not new to me. I was technically still a virgin, I didn’t have to be, and frankly, I had already done pretty much everything else or had it done to me.
So, when Jacqui unzipped my pants and slipped her hand inside, my body reacted, as it would, and I’d begun the strangest night of my life. Not wanting to disappoint him, I hadn’t protested, didn’t say anything to him, about cheating on my mom, about sleeping with his secretaries or encouraging his son to do the same. Regardless of my body's reaction, it was wrong.
It had taken me a while, but after the days of father-son bonding, I began to see him in an entirely different light. Thankfully when the festivities had gotten really advanced, he retreated to his own room – with Amy of course – so I hadn’t had to see him in that light. I could only imagine him watching me and critiquing my lack of style it or something.
By the end of the trip, I had done everything, with each of the assistants my father had brought on the trip. Sometimes one on one and sometimes, not. I felt dirty and disgusting after that week. Unable or unwilling to say no, but knowing what we were doing was so beyond wrong, I'd been changed forever.
I started to see the real man, behind the image he portrayed. He wanted the high life. To be top dog, to do whatever and whomever he pleased, whenever he pleased. Unfortunately, he was just an asshole.
That experience opened my eyes to something else too, though. I finally opened my eyes to see my mother. She had been docile, amiable - always, but she had begun to draw into herself more and more as the months progressed. A couple of times, I saw a red mark or a bruise on her. She always had a ready excuse, but I began to wonder if my father was marking her if he was hitting her.
I grew quickly and steadily through high school and by the time my junior year rolled around, I was taller than my father by at least two inches. A few times he tried to be domineering toward my mother and even once toward my sister, but I got in the middle of it quickly, diffusing the situation and he’d backed right down.
For some reason, it was important to him, that I respect him. He wanted me to like him and to look up to him. Of course, I didn’t, not anymore. I hadn’t let him know my true feelings. That had been the only thing I had to hold over his head, my approval.
Late, one Friday night, I pulled up in front of our ridiculously ostentatious house, turned off my mint condition sixty-nine Camaro and looked up at the mini-mansion.
I sensed that something was wrong, though I had no idea what it was. Nothing was out of place, of
Similar Books
