Prom Night_(2)

AUTHOR’S NOTE: This is a work of fiction. Any
resemblance between the characters and any persons
living or dead is entirely coincidental. By
presenting this story, the author neither condones nor
endorses sexual relationships legal or illegal. This
story contains depictions of incest and sex between a
minor and an adult. If such topics offend you or if
possession of this material by you is not legal in the
place where you are sitting right now reading this,
then you had better stop reading and get rid of this
right now. You’d be better spending your time reading
National Geographic or learning the rules to curling.
If, however, you are a consenting adult and a
fictional story involving incest and underage sex
sounds pretty good to you, then go ahead and keep
reading. I think you’ll like it.


I was sitting on the couch dressed in my usual late
night attire, an open robe and boxer shorts, watching
the Tonight show and waiting for my daughter to come
home. I was understandably worried. Jean was only
14, a freshman in high school, and she had been asked
to the prom by a senior, one of the school’s football
players. I hadn’t wanted her to go. My excuse, of
course, was that I wanted to protect my baby angel,
but I think even then deep inside I knew I wanted her
for myself.

Jean was slender, but at 14 she had pretty large
breasts. True, they were barely C cups, but on her
small frame they looked much larger. It got her a lot
of attention from the boys, attention I knew had
nothing to do with her personality. I was a boy once,
too, and even if Jean didn’t want to realize it I knew
that she was the star of many young boys’ sexual
fantasies. Hell, she was the star in many of mine.
Her mother, though, had a very casual attitude about
it and thought it was a great idea to let our daughter
go off to the prom. Which was why she was asleep and
I was waiting on the couch.

She had permission to be out until one, but I saw car
lights hit the driveway shortly after 11:30. I closed
my robe and opened the door to greet her, and to
forestall any driveway kissing. “Asshole!” I heard
Jean hiss as she slammed the door to the jock’s
Mustang, which promptly squealed its tires and roared
away. Jean stomped up the front walk fuming, holding
the hem of her dress in one hand and her heels in the
other. She stopped in surprised when she saw me.

“Daddy!” she exclaimed, then she was running into my
arms, sobbing. I helped her inside and got the story
out of her.

It was everything I had been afraid of. Almost.
Trent, her date, had taken her to a cheap restaurant
along with two other couples. Three senior boys each
with a freshman date. They had stayed barely half an
hour at the dance, not even long enough to get their
picture made, then Trent was dragging her out, saying
they had a party to go to. The party turned out to be
his two buddies and their dates down by the lake. He
tried to have his way with her, and at first (she
admitted, after much coaxing) she had been willing.
They kissed, petted a little, and then…

“Then what, baby?” I urged. We were sitting on the
sofa together, her hands clasped in mine. Her tears
had made her mascara run, and I was fighting an
erection. She was so beautiful, so wonderful to look
at, and even her slightly disheveled hair and ruined
makeup looked sexy to me. Her gown was in disarray,
the hem riding up her legs to expose her black nylons
which she had laid against my own bare legs.

“He…took his think out,” she said, not meeting my
eyes.

“His penis?” I asked. She nodded. “Honey, did he…”

“No!” she said in a fierce whisper. “I’d never let
him do that. I told you, Daddy, I’m saving it for
someone special.”

It wasn’t what I was going to ask, but I was relieved
that she was still a virgin. Now, before that night,
I had entertained many fantasies about being her
first, never with any doubt that it would never
happen. She was my darling daughter, and I had never
tried anything with her.

“I pitched a bitch,” she said, then looked startled as
she realized she had cursed in front of me.

“It’s okay,” I told her, smiling. “I know you use
those words. You can say them.”

She blushed. “I…bitched at him until he agreed to
take me home,” she said. She looked into my eyes. “I
was scared he would rape me, Daddy.”

“What about the other girls?” I asked.

She snorted. “Melinda and Penny? Everybody knows
they’re sluts. They were screwing their dates before
Trent had even felt me up.” She was blushing even
more, but she was watching for my reaction. I smiled,
and she seemed to relax. I had opened the door, I
realize now, and everything that came after was just
inevitable.

“So, you’re okay then?”

“I guess,” she said. I saw some tears well up in her
eyes. “Can you hold me a while, Daddy?”

“Of course, sweetheart!” I said, enfolding her in my
arms. She snuggled in, and my erection could no
longer be stopped. I smelled the sweet fragrance of
her hair, relished the feel of her soft skin as I
stroked her neck and arms, her bare shoulders. She
was so petite, only five feet tall compared to my
nearly six feet. I felt a burning shame because of my
desire. She was my daughter, and she was as tiny as a
child, and I wanted her like I had never wanted anyone
before in my life.

I couldn’t resist letting my hands wander where they
could. I stroked her back, over her hips, down the
sides of her legs. She was on my left, and she lifted
her left arm higher across my body as my hand came up
her side, as if in invitation. I wasn’t bold enough
yet. My hand came tantalizingly close to her breast,
then moved away. I felt her tremble slightly, and she
sighed into my neck.

“Know what I regret most?” she said, whispering.

“What?” I asked. I felt lightheaded, like I was
outside my body watching as I tried to molest my own
daughter with gently touches.

“I didn’t get to slow dance,” she said. “We left
right before the first one.”

“That’s too bad,” I said. We turned our heads as one
to look at my stereo on the shelf nearby. She looked
at me, I looked at her. She smiled, and my heart
melted.

“Daddy?” she asked. “Would you dance with me?”

I should have said no. I should have sent her on to
bed. “Yes,” I heard myself saying. “I’d love to.”

She didn’t move, so I had to. I rose and went to the
stereo. My wife had some easy listening CD’s, so I
chose one of those. Jean and I both liked hard rock.
The sound of Chicago filled the air at low volume as I
turned back to my daughter. Jean was still sitting.
She accepted my hand and rose to her feet as light as
an angel. In her shoeless state, the top of her head
came only to my chest, and her large breasts pressed
into my stomach as we stepped close together. Her
small arms went around my waist, and I rested my hands
on her bare shoulders.

We began to sway to the music, and I tried to
concentrate on keeping my erection down. I was
semi-hard, and she had to know what was pressing
against her tummy. I bent over a little and kissed
the top of her head. She looked up, smiling dreamily
into my face, and I was so very tempted to lean down
and plant a kiss on her pink lips. Maybe I would have
if she hadn’t stumbled.

“Damn dress,” she muttered, holding up the hem.