Gamble_(0)

It turns out a father can’t playfully pet his teenage daughter without it ending badly. Who would’ve guessed?

But seriously. My father is a drunk. He’s also a show off, especially when his poker buddies are around. I mean, it didn’t bother me. Not really. Not for years. Sure, I used to be upset about his drinking and I used to get really upset about the gambling until he got control of the impulse. When I was 7 or so he started gambling with pennies and quarters rather than the larger sums of money he used to play with. I figured a playful pat on the rump here and there wasn’t such a bad price to pay for his relative control in the money department.

Maybe I’m being too easy on myself. Maybe I’m painting him as a bigger monster than he really is. The petting didn’t start out of nowhere, after all, but it did start small. When my body started to develop beyond the body of a child, around 12, he would call attention to it in front of his friends at the Saturday poker game at our house.

“Hey Johnny,” or Billy, or Tommy, or Shane, whoever the the card player sitting next to him was. He’d take a long pull on his beer and say, “Look at this.” He’d grab me around the waist and turn my backside to his neighbor. He would run his hand over my bottom and let it linger just a bit too long on the underside. “She’s gonna have a nice ass, huh?” Johnny–or whoever–would leer approvingly and I’d–of course–be mortified.

Well, I was embarrassed the first few times. Then, like anything else, I started to get used to it. After a while I would swat his hand away and tell him to keep his mits to himself. By then I was 14. When he saw my embarrassment was fading–cause I think that was the primary reason he was doing it–just to be an ass and embarrass me–he upped the ante. Instead of the lingering hand on my bottom he would call attention to my breasts. I was wearing typical clothing, nothing overly showy, but when I leaned over to fill one of his friends’ glasses he would reach out a hand and cup one of them. “In a couple of years,” he said nudging the guys next to him, “these are going to be fantastic. You know darling,” he would say, turning his attention to me as he ran a finger over my nipple. I felt my face flush crimson. I hadn’t been that embarrassed in a very long time, “I’m going to be very jealous when you bring home your first boyfriend.”

Yeah right. Like I would ever bring a guy home for him to meet. The last thing I wanted to do was be molested by my father in front of my boyfriend. How humiliating.

By 16 I was pretty even keel about all the middle aged guys patting my ass and “accidentally” grabbing my boobs every Saturday night. I was still grateful dad managed to keep the house no matter how many quarters he lost to his friends every weekend.

That’s not to say that the guys weren’t pushing it, especially when my father was out of the room. While he was there they would grab my ass or run a couple fingers up my thigh. A lot of shoulders to the boob, which, quite frankly, was kind of pathetic. Alright, all of it was pathetic, but I knew I was a distraction to these guys. My father lost less when I was there than when I wasn’t. Anyway, when my father left, to go to the bathroom or make a store run, the guys would get a little out of control. Once, when I was making a pitcher of margaritas in the kitchen, Johnny came up behind me and mashed me against the island with his hips. The way his hips cradled my ass was frightening. I could feel his penis hard against me. He reached under my shirt and put his meaty hands on my boobs, twisting my nipples between his fingers. With his other hand he reached under my skirt and pulled it up and my panties down in almost the same motion.

“God, Tina,” his breath was hot in my ear, “I’ve wanted to stick my cock in you for years. Well,” he said while audibly unzipping his jeans behind me, “I’m not going to have to wait any longer.”

“No,” I whispered. I was still a virgin and I was frightened because I couldn’t move without making a lot of noise. Noise would only draw the others attention to us, and as much as I distrusted Johnny, I didn’t trust the rest of them much more. “No, Johnny, please. Don’t do this,” I begged.

“It’s better this way,” he said. I could feel him pulling his dick from his pants behind me. He started to rub his penis along my ass crack. “You wouldn’t have liked what I had planned. You wouldn’t have liked that at all. This is better. This is just you and me.” His fingers played with my nipple and lifted my shirt above my breasts. I was more naked than covered at this point. Everything that mattered was out in plain view for anybody walking by to see. I could hear the guys in the other room and I was worried because I didn’t want to be caught in this position, especially not by any of them, so I kept my voice low when I said,

“Dad’s going to be back any minute. He could catch you. You would never be let back here again.”

“Oh, I don’t care about that.” I felt him place his dick at my entrance and I felt him very gingerly enter me. Not all the way. Not even close. Just the very tip of his penis was inside me. “All I care about is fucking you. All I want is to stick my dick in you, fuck you silly, and then cum inside your lilly white pussy.” His breath was hot on my neck and his breath smelled like old beer.

“Charlie! It’s about damn time. What the hell took you so long?” I think it was Tommy calling to my father from the other room but with an old guy’s dick tickling at my entrance and a large hand on my breast, and my very compromising position bent over the island, I couldn’t be sure. I was just so happy to hear that my father was home that I almost laughed.

My boob fell free of his hot hand and a zipper quickly covered Johnny’s erection. I put myself back to rights just in time for my father to walk into the room with his bag of groceries. “A couple bowls of each of these on the table, please,” he said to me and patted my bottom in that lingering way of his. He made a contented noise at the back of his throat when he touched me there. “You would be in so much trouble if you weren’t my daughter,” he said, and winked at Johnny.

Johnny looked at me and said in his husky voice, “She might be in trouble anyway.” Charlie laughed as if he was kidding and I tried to smile as if nothing was wrong, but I knew from then on I would have to avoid being alone with Johnny.