You learn a lot about someone by the way they act after you tell them you love them, or at least tell them that you love something about them. The next day, things could have gone in a very serious direction.
Amy’s twenty. I didn’t fuck around with twenty-year-old girls even when I was twenty. (There’s more to the Aunt Judy story than I told Amy. Let’s just say Judy had me over a lot that summer and she gave me a lasting taste for older women. We’ll get back to that.)
Would Amy latch on to that last thing I told her, before we slept, and run with it? I’m the one who unpacked her stuff and gave her a place to keep it, a place to stay for the week. Then I go and tell her there are things—things, plural, for Christ’s sake!—that I love about her. What was I thinking? Too late now.
She came back from class late in the afternoon, exhausted. She fell right on the bed and slept. That was fine with me. I was working on a Tennessee Williams paper and anyway, if she had plans to give me the third degree about what I’d said the night before, then her nap was just what I wanted, a reprieve. The interrogation might have been inevitable, but I would take whatever break I could get.
At six-thirty she came padding out of the bedroom in her cute stocking feet and the clothes she’d worn to school. She yawned her way through, “I need a shower,” and disappeared into the bathroom. I hadn’t eaten so when she came out wrapped in a towel I asked her about dinner. “I ate a late lunch,” she said as she stepped into the bedroom and out of sight again. She came out freshly dressed in a pair of my pajama pants and an old faded hooded sweatshirt, two articles of clothing that I hadn’t worn in a while. I couldn’t have found them if you’d paid me to look for them.
“Where’d you find that stuff?”
“In a drawer. Is this okay?”
“Keep ‘em. They look cute on you.”
“Am I cute?”
She struck a few silly poses, with shy little-girl faces to match.
“You’d make a Teddy Bear jealous.”
I went back to my typing before I said that. She kissed me quick and sweet on the cheek and snatched an onion ring off a plate. Re-heated lunch. She took another.
“Is that your dinner?”
“Leftovers. Not hungry tonight.”
She plopped into the kitchen chair opposite me.
“What are you writing?”
“A paper called ‘Fuck Tennessee Williams.’ You remember him, right?”
She laughed. “How was class?”
“Energetic. It’s a great course. I’m glad I went. Yours?”
“Boring, all of them. I needed four coffees just to make it through them all.”
“Sorry.”
She snatched another ring off the plate and her mouth was full again when she said, “So what is it you love about me?”
The air in the kitchen changed. My fingers stopped typing. I did not look up at her.
“Besides all the sucking and fucking, I mean.”
My mouth moved, but no words came out.
“Because those come in last place, right?”
I was rather nervously biting my bottom lip, trying to remember the last time I had been cornered this way. I couldn’t think of a time. And here, now, in my own home, no less, when I knew it was coming. You’re slipping, old man, is the only thing that came to mind.
“Look, Amy… I didn’t mean to-“
She almost fell out of the chair laughing and pointed a finger right across the table at me.
“HA!! You should see your face! I… GOT… YOOOOUUUU!”
I gave her a good-natured smirk, from a man defeated, because fuck it, right? She earned it.
But I also threw an onion ring at her. It bounced off her tit and fell on the floor. She picked it up and blew on it before she ate it.
“Hee! Hee! I’ve been waiting all day to do that!” she said, mouth full and chewing. Her table manners would fit right in at a bar. I didn’t mind a bit.
I put an onion ring in my mouth and talked to her the same way.
“Very good! You win this round.”
She came around the table and sat across my lap. She hugged me around the neck and laid her head on my shoulder. For a moment she said nothing, and in my mind’s eye, I thought that we must look like a sweet daddy-daughter photo. It took me back to the night when all this really got going. She shifted her hips in my lap. That and the daddy-daughter image got my cock stirring. She felt it and ground down with a little more intent.
“Someone’s waking up!” she said, before her tongue found my ear.
“He knows his favorite little girl is home,” I said.
She removed her tongue long enough to answer me.
“His favorite little girl?”
“Mm-hmmm. Daddy’s little girl.”
Her tongue shot back into my ear, hotter and wetter. She pushed down into my cock and started to rock her ass.
“You know what?”
“What?” I said.
“You haven’t fucked me in almost twenty-four hours… Daddy.”
“Let’s do something about that.”
Life’s not a football field, but when you’re built like a linebacker, you can do things some guys can’t. I stood up and lifted her with me. I carried her toward the bedroom.
“Ooooo, Daddy! You never carried me this way before! Are you gonna carry me and fuck me, like your Aunt Judy got fucked?”
I stopped in the middle of the living room and looked at her. We were eye to eye.
“No one’s fucking anyone. Not yet.”
She looked puzzled. I said nothing. I placed her on the bed and turned the lights on, all of them. (Fucking in a dark room is for pencil dicks and church group ladies who cheat on their husbands.) I stripped, shirt first. I got an, “Mmmm…” from her. That became an “Oh my!” when I pulled my shorts off. John Thursday was flag-pole straight and begging for attention.
“Come over here, big, fat-dick Daddy!”
“Not yet.”
She puffed out her bottom lip like a pouty kid who has to wait for Christmas morning to open her presents.
“Stand up. Take your clothes off.”
She stood up on the bed and got naked.
“Give them to me.”
She walked across the bed and handed me the clothes.
“Here’s your hoodie back, Daddy!”
She put on a cute voice but I ignored it. She tried to push a nipple into my face but I avoided it with a slight dodge of my head. I threw the clothes on a reading chair across the room.
“Sit down right there,” I pointed to all the pillows at the head of the bed. “And get comfortable.”
“What are we doing?”
I let her question hang there for a bit. I went to her bag and took out her phone. I handed it to her.
“Open the camera.”
She got excited.
“Oooo! Dirty pics! I love it!”
I made a mental note to ask her about that later, since the idea didn’t seem new to her. She handed the phone back to me. I set it on a lampstand and hit ‘RECORD.’
“Not pics, little girl. Video.”
“Bedroom porn? Oooooh, naughty!”
“Nope.”
I heard her sigh a little. It wasn’t stress-free.
“You’re confusing me.”
“No, I’m interviewing you.”
“Interviewing me?”
“Right.”
“Is this a class project? Did Tennessee Williams interview women before he fucked them?”
I checked the angle of the camera. It needed re-centered. I fiddled with it as I answered her. “I don’t think he fucked any women, honey.” The camera was ready now. I moved toward the bed. “And that’s one thing right there.”
She looked confused again.
“That’s one what thing right where?”
“One thing I love about you.”
I sat on the bed next to her. When she smiles big and genuine, her eyes sparkle. They did now.
“Oh… what?”
“Your sense of humor. Your jokes. You have the timing of a professional comic.”
“My dad says I’m funny.”
“Oh, does he?” I looked up and down at her sexy naked little self, now that she was relaxed again and reclining back in the pillows. “I bet he’d say a lot of things if he saw you right now.”
“Is that what the interview is all about?”
“Yes, and no. Ready?”
She wasn’t quite.
“Why my phone?”
“So you’ll know I’m doing this for you, not for me. You can delete it whenever you want. I don’t even want a copy.”
“Why not?”
“It’ll all be up here.” I pointed at my head.
“I want it all down here.” She pulled her pussy open.
I shifted to the middle of the bed, facing her. My legs were spread. Hers too, still. I put the soles of our feet together. Seeing how ready her pussy already was, I felt John Thursday start to stir. At the moment he was lying thick and soft along my inner thigh, but the show she put on brought him back to life a little. She noticed.
“Mmmmm… I love watching you get hard.”
“Tell me about that.”
“About you getting hard?”
“No, about you liking to see hard cocks.”
“Wait, is this the interview?”
“It is.”
“Then wait, I wasn’t ready.”
She pushed her hands lightly through her hair. She reached for a small pillow and held it at her side, like a doll or a security blanket. It was the first time I had seen her look nervous.
“Ready now?”
“Is this about my sex life?”
“It’s about a lot of things.”
“But my sex life is the topic.”
“Mm-hmm.”
She hugged the pillow tighter. Time to play director. The camera was rolling.
“One of the things I love about you is your honesty. It’s fucking courageous. That’s a monster fucking turn-on.”
“Why do you think it’s courageous to be honest?”
“You told me a week ago that you came all over yourself thinking about riding your dad’s giant dick. Pick out ten girls in any of your classes, none of them would tell that story, or any story remotely like it.
“You got balls, kid. Big ones.”
Her eyes positively glittered with the smile that brought on. Mission accomplished. Her next line told me so.
“I like big balls.”
I’m not a compulsive smiler, but I gave back the best I could to match hers. I added a wink.
“Now you’re ready.”
I started with a preamble, and some instructions.
“You love fucking. You love giving head. I want to know how you got to be such a fiery, brave little lover at such a young age. Anything I say or ask, just say yes or no if you agree or if you don’t. If I want more, I’ll tell you.”
“Okay.”
Do you know why I like fucking with the lights on?”
“No.”
“Keeps us honest. I don’t trust what I can’t see. Make a face. Look me in the eye. Do whatever. Don’t hide it. Shine a light on it. Understand?”
“Yes.”
“You like the lights on?”
“Yes.”
“You like to see my fat cock coming at you?”
“Mmmm, yes!”
“Like to see it sticking out when I walk around hard?”
“Yes!”
“Do you remember the first hard cock you saw, in person?”
“Yes.”
“When was it?”
“My nineteenth birthday party.”
“You were still a virgin at nineteen?”
“Yes.”
“Okay. You saw a cock at your party, and you got fucked?”
“No.”
“Tell me.”
“We played truth or dare, and my sister April got dared to suck a guy’s cock.”
“And she did?”
“Yes.”
“Right there in the room?”
“Yes.”
“Did that excite you.”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“I was a little drunk, and horny. I wanted to see a dick.”
“Who was the guy?”
“The one who said ‘truth or dare’ to her, to April.”
“Did you know him?”
“Kind of. He went to school with April. They’re two years older.”
“What happened?”
“He took his dick out and -“
“Hard?”
“Oh yes!”
“Big?”
“I thought so then.”