After The Dance_(0)

After the Dance


I watched the high school erupt with well-dressed young men and women for a few minutes before pulling up to the door. For the most part I ignored the suited boys unless they had their arms around one of the many made-up teenage girls. Their dresses were, more often than not, too tight for their blossoming figures, their skirts too short, their necklines too low. I wasn’t complaining, only wishing I could take home more than one.

The passenger door opened and Rebecca climbed inside, her long skirt slit far on my side. I could see her black stocking and a bit of her upper thigh where the stockings ended, but the slit continued. She made sure her high-heeled right shoe was inside before slamming the door and sniffling, pulling her seatbelt around her ample chest, barely hidden by her black dress.

“What’s wrong?” I asked as I pulled away from the school, slowing down to admire a blonde girl in a blue gown.

“Michael dumped me,” Rebecca mumbled.

“What?” Michael and my daughter had been dating for a few months. I wasn’t too fond of the boy, but he knew his manners and kept his hands relatively to himself.

“He’s dating Michelle now,” she snapped. Then: “Whore,” under her breath. I pretended not to hear.

“You didn’t put out for him, did you?” I asked.

“No. I wouldn’t do that, Daddy,” she defended herself.

We went the rest of the car ride in silence. She sniffled a few times, and I put a hand on her knee, gently stroking the black stocking. We arrived at home and went inside. Rebecca was about to go to her room and change, no doubt, but I took her by the elbow and said, “Would you like some wine before bed, dear?”

She looked at me oddly, then smiled. “Sure.”

I had never allowed her to drink alcohol before, so she was both surprised and a bit excited by my invitation. I led her into the living room, where a bottle sat in an ice bucket. I popped the cork and poured two glasses of wine. We sat on the couch together, and I put my arm around her shoulder. She leaned her head against my chest and slowly sipped from her glass.

“You know, Michael isn’t good enough for my little girl, anyway,” I said.

She nodded. When her glass was empty I surprised her again by refilling it. She took another sip, then said, “Daddy?”

“Yes, dear.”

“I’m sorry. I wasn’t entirely truthful in the car.”

I felt myself squeeze her arm a little tightly as a flash of anger went through me. I caught myself, afraid of ruining the mood, and responded: “Really?”

“I kind of put out.”

“Kind of?”

“Yeah.”

“Tell me.”

“The long story or the short story?”

“The whole thing.”

“Remember when I went to that party last night?”

“Yeah.”

“Well, even though you told me not to, I drank. A lot. I’m sorry, Daddy, but everyone else was doing it . . . and I know that that’s no excuse, but Michael was kind of ignoring me and everyone else was having fun, so I started drinking too.

“I was really trashed and I saw Michael going into one of the rooms with Michelle. I got pissed off and followed them up there to yell at them. They were really drunk, too. When I opened the door Michael was sitting at the foot of the bed, with his pants and underwear down around his ankles. His . . .”

“Cock?”

“Yeah, it was all hard and everything. Michelle had her sweater off; she was just wearing her little whore cheering skirt and her socks. She was sitting next to him, giving him a handjob. Seeing his . . . cock . . . I was getting turned on, even though I was pissed about seeing him with Michelle. She was just looking at me, all superior and everything, and Michael was starting to say that he needed satisfaction, and he loved me, but I wouldn’t do anything for him. Michelle looked at him and she was like, ‘She won’t even give you a blowjob?’

“She pushed him down onto his back and started sucking on his cock. I was so pissed that she was just doing this in front of me like she didn’t even care. She stopped and looked at me again. ‘Come on, Rebecca,’ she said. ‘It’s fun.’

“I didn’t know what to do, but I was sure if I left them there alone then Michael would dump me and everyone would hear about what a lousy girlfriend I was from Michelle. I didn’t want her to win, so I took off my tank top and got on my knees between his legs. I started licking his cock while she held it up, but I wasn’t sure what to do. Michelle said, ‘Like this,’ and showed me how to take his cock in my mouth and suck on it. So I started to do that.

“For a while I was fighting to keep her away from his cock so that I could give him the blowjob. She stopped trying to suck on it whenever I lifted my head and pulled her panties off. She sat on Michael’s face and I knew he was licking her pussy while I was giving him a blowjob. That pissed me off, too, because I just wanted that bitch to leave. Sorry.”

“That’s okay,” I assured her. “Sip your wine and continue.”

She did so. “Well, anyway, after a while my mouth was getting tired so I just started licking the underside of his cock and Michelle leaned down across his body and was licking the other side. Our tongues touched a few times, and then we were kissing, suddenly, with his cock between us. Michael started to cum, and Michelle and I let him do it all over our tongues and lips. We were kissing some more, then, with his cum in our mouths.”

“Is that all?”

She took another sip of wine. Then, softly, ashamed, “No.”

“What happened next?”

“Michelle climbed off of Michael and started touching my breasts, kissing them, and licking my nipples. I was getting real horny, and I started touching her, too. We made out for a little while, and Michael got dressed. I wasn’t feeling angry anymore, and I wanted to have sex or something. I thought I was going to explode.

“Michael said we should go to his house, and we said we would.