Lincoln, Montana. A small town with not that much to do. Mostly famous as the site of the Unabomber arrest. Cutting through town, Montana 200, the longest state highway in the US, mostly rural and desolate.
Kaley was born and raised there. Never left. Her dad, he left. He left. Then came back. Then left again. Then came back again. Then left again.
Kaley’s mom had no doubt: if only the kid hadn’t been born, none of it would have happened. But good ol’ Jack, he just couldn’t cum with a condom now could he? And so Kaley happened. And then he left. And Sarah, her hair turned white, and she became old, cranky, and saggy, and alone.
Sarah resented her daughter. Kaley knew it. She resented being born. She resented her mother. And she hated her father. She craved his love. And she hated him. That night, he was meant to pick her up for a fishing trip. And, of course, he didn’t. His new girlfriend had gotten into a car accident or something, and he had to go rescue her.
Kaley had had enough. She got in her car, and started driving. She wanted to go meet up her father at his place, just about an hour away. Her blood boiling in her veins, she took it all out on her car. Now, Montana is not known for its dedication to road safety, nor for its devotion to the speed limit, but even then, in the dark, on a rural two lane road, 120 mph was more than Highway Patrol officer Jimmy Cash could overlook.
“Do you have any idea how fast you were going?” he screamed at her as soon as she pulled over
Kaley tried to explain, she was angry, she wasn’t thinking straight. It didn’t matter. Reckless driving, off to court.
The judge was ever so slightly more forgiving. First offense. Stone cold sober. Young age. Extenuating circumstances. He gave Kaley the minimum fine, and no jail, provided she complete a 6 month psychiatric program. “But” he warned her “fail this, or come back here again for any reason, and I will make sure to punish you as much as the law lets me”
Once a week, Kaley got back on 200, and slowly but surely made her way to Helena, to meet with me, her psychiatrist, Dr. James Ruud. It was during one of these sessions that she finally opened up. It had taken weeks. But she finally cracked and said something meaningful. Something that would set our therapy meetings on a whole new course.
“So, Kaley”, I asked her, “if you think of the rejection from your father, what’s the first image that comes to mind?”
I was expecting a birthday missed, or a toy not bought, or a graduation not at tended. But nothing prepared me for the story Kaley told me.
“It was a few years ago. He promised we’d go fishing. Just like the night that got me in trouble. Funny how it all works uh?
So, anyway, that time he picked me up. We got in the car, and started going to the lake. It was a nice warm summer morning, gentle breeze, but warm on my skin. I think it was about September. Almost the end of summer. You could already tell fall would start any day. But not that day. So we’re driving and driving and we basically get to Clearwater, right? And then he picks up his phone. Talks for a while. And he tells me he can drop me off at his house, but he has to go. No fishing that day. He will be back for dinner though. Work stuff, he tells me. At this point, it’s not like I didn’t know the kind of man he was. He was lying, of course. But I was so starved for attention, so needy of love. I said, ok sure, drop me off, no big deal, see you at dinner”
After a brief pause, she continued, “So he drops me off at his house. At the time he still lived in Lincoln, he moved to Simms shortly after. I spent all day watching TV, bored out of my mind. As evening comes around, no sign of the man. 6pm. 7pm. 8pm. Around 9pm I decided to go crash. I cried a bit, and off to the guest bedroom I went”
She wiped a tear off her cheek, drank some water, and then continued. “I couldn’t sleep, right? The anger. The sadness. I was just so unhappy at everything. At one point, I look at the clock, it’s 10:35. I hear the door open, I hear laughter. It’s my dad. And his girlfriend at the time, Jess. They were laughing. She sounded drunk. He sounded so happy. And then the laughter..”
“Go on” I encouraged her, “it’s fine. This is your safe space. You can tell me anything”
“And then the laughter turned into moaning” she kept going, saying it fast, as if she wanted to jump over that hurdle, get it over with. “He was fucking her or something. I could hear her moan. She tried to keep it quiet, but she just couldn’t. I could hear the couch squeak. He was pounding her. I could hear his grunts. I could hear my dad and Jess bang. See, at the time, I was like 19 or 20. And Jess, she was 22 or something like that. This was a man in his 50s banging a girl barely older than his daughter. I bet he didn’t even remember I was there. He didn’t remember. Or he didn’t care. And then it struck me”
Again, she paused. Her cheeks flushed. She gulped. Hesitated. And then she did it again, that talking fast, that ripping off the band aid of words that are hard to say. Of thoughts that one never fully thinks, but now she was thinking them and telling someone about them. As if that made the thoughts more real.
“It struck me in the face. I wanted him to fuck me. Like the love languages, you know? My father’s love language was fucking. And I wanted him to love me so bad that I wanted him to fuck me. I wanted to go there, push that dirty ugly whore off the couch, take her place, and finally claim my father’s love. I was prettier. I was younger. And I was forbidden. So I listened to them. I touched myself. My father kept pounding. And I rubbed my clit till I came. And I moaned his name, I implored him to see me. I cried as I came. I still remember my words as the last gasp of orgasm left my mouth. Dad, love me, I beg you”
I was not one to be speechless a lot. But this had made it. I had no idea how to react. And to add insult to injury, she had turned herself, and me, on. I could see her cheeks flushed, her nipples pointing under her shirt. I could see her legs pushing ever so slightly. And I could feel my cock hard against my own pants.
I told her to close her eyes. I walked behind her. “So you want dad to fuck you?” I whispered in her ear.
She gasped. Jumped up. Startled. But then she settled down. Closed her eyes again.
“Yes” she whispered
“Do you want dad to take your shirt off?” I whispered again, as my hands caressed her shoulders
“Yes” she whispered, her breathing shallow
“Do you want dad to see your naked body?”
“Yes, I do”, more of a moan than actual words
“What do you think dad would love the most of you?”
“I have a tiny freckle in my inner thigh. It’s so tiny and so close to my pussy. You’d only ever know if you were going down on me. I would show him the freckle. It would be so intimate. It would be something that we could share. This dirty little secret.”
“Dad would love to see your freckle” I whispered to her, my lips so close to her neck that I could smell her scent.
“Does dad want to see it now?” she asked
I paused. This was incredibly dangerous territory. We had gone deep. We were roleplaying this. She was into it. I was into it. More than just professionally. I wanted to be her father. I wanted to fuck her. I wanted Kaley. I wanted her freckle. I wanted her pussy. I wanted to know what it would feel like to make love to this man’s daughter. And I wanted her to know what it would feel like to make love to her father.
But could I? I couldn’t sit there forever to decide. Could I risk everything for a chance at a pretty girl with a tiny freckle on her thigh? I stood there, my hands on Kaley’s shoulders, dumbfounded. The seconds felt like hours. And then I spoke.
Source: reddit.com/r/eroticliterature/comments/f8vx39/mf_inc_caution_dr_daddy_issues_part_1