Fuck me, Daddy!

My dad’s life has always intrigued me. Born as a trailer park boy with no chance of making it in the real world, he married into one of the wealthiest of families in the country. I find it truly impressive how quickly he must have changed, for from my oldest memories, he’s been a great father. Loving when he could, strict when he had to. It was impossible for young me to reach him, and he barely ever showed any compassion, but I could feel his love, even though he didn’t say it with so many words.

When the divorce came to a conclusion, my mom took everything from him. The money, which was hers to begin with, the house, and custody over Adam and myself. Dad moved down to his old town, where his family and friends still lived the life he had managed to escape against all odds. There, in the very trailer his parents died in, he was finally able to let go free himself from the role he had been playing for such a long time, and be his true self: a stubborn, self-loathing lowlife, who drank a lot, hid every feeling he felt, and barely ever smiled.

And yet, I loved to go down south and visit him. Almost as much as for him, for me it too was a great relief of all the uptown pressure. Nobody asked how I was doing in school, whether I had found a rich man yet, or who I was bringing to yet another high society party. The only thing my very protective dad cared much about, was seeing to it that I wasn’t wearing too sexy outfits – something every young adult, including me, saw as an opportunity to test their parents. I wore shorter shorts and tighter tops every time I visited, I teased every boy and man in town with my evolving body, and deliberately left tiny pieces of underwear all over the trailer. I knew my dad hated it, but he seemed to grow into it, and eventually stopped mentioning my lack of decency altogether.

Just after I had turned nineteen, I packed my bags for an entire summer vacation at the trailer park. Mom went on a long cruise with a friend, Adam had moved in with his fiancée. It was either being stuck in our massive, boring house, or take a long time off and explore that other side of me, the side that hadn’t come out all that much yet.

Dad wasn’t overly happy with my long stay at first. I could tell he felt restricted, not being able to do whatever he wanted, something he had gotten used to over the past months. I quickly managed to calm him down, however. I would not mention his drinking, I would even join him. If he ever decided to have company, I would sleep outside, in the open. He never had any company, though, and so complying to my own rules was fairly easy.

But I quickly got bored. Internet connection was instable, to say the least, and the people around my age were either desperately trying to get in my panties, or were too stupid to even try. Whole days I spent watching daytime television, watching the farmers work, or getting hammered, sometimes with dad, often alone. This went on for two full weeks, until I found another pastime, one that proved to be all around me all along. There was so much sexual tension in this small town, tension that was released every now and again, without holding back.