3 comments/ 49005 views/ 14 favorites The Essay By: storyteller_no_9 " Daddy, I'm ready for bed. Besides, I have something I need to talk to you about." "Sure baby, what is it?" "Look at this letter, Daddy. Can you believe it? They're going to make me take College English all over again! They decided my credits didn't transfer after all." "That's a bunch of crap. You're on the Dean's List in the freaking engineering department and they want you to repeat freshman English because they decided on a whim not accept the transfer after you've been going for a semester?" "Yeah. Pisses me off. I'm going to take it in the summer semester. It'll give me something to go with that fluid mechanics class I need." "I thought you wanted to take just that one class because you wanted to concentrate on it all by itself since you were going back to work at Hooter's to pick up some extra cash. I told you you didn't need to do that. I've got everything covered." "Daddy, I want to do my part around here." "Baby, you already do." "Maybe you don't want to share me. Uh, huh. Anyway, since I found out a couple of days ago, I decided to write an essay since I'm kinda out of practice. It's an expository essay. You want to hear it?" "Sure." "Well, come lay next to me on the bed and I'll read it to you. I think you'll like it." "Sounds intriguing." "You'll find out. Here goes." "Ahem. I have the greatest Daddy in the world. There isn't a thing he wouldn't do for me, and I feel the same way about him. Without him, I wouldn't be here today and have a chance to succeed in reaching for my dreams. The truly amazing thing about him is that he became my Daddy by choice, not once but twice. "If you're going strictly by biology, he's not my birth father. My birth father isn't worth the ink it takes to print this out. He managed to impregnate my mother, then take off shortly after my birth, never to be heard from again. All I can say is good riddance to bad rubbish. "There was another candidate that took on the job when he married my mother, but he turned out to be as worthless as my bio sperm donor father. He too disappeared, which is just fine by me. "Finally, my Daddy came along when I was eight. He married my mother and did all the things that the others failed to do. He helped me with my homework, taught me right from wrong, got me interested in soccer, and was there for me when I needed him. Best of all, he did it by choice. He WANTED to be my Daddy, and was exactly what a little girl needed." "Wow. Thank you, baby." "Just trying to tell it like it is, Daddy. Anyway, Then he was gone. It wasn't his fault. My mother betrayed him in the worst way and made it impossible for him to remain. But before he left, he did something noble, and did it anonymously. When he left, there was a hole in my heart, but I understood why he had to leave. I vowed to remember all he taught me and make myself a better person." "Baby, that wasn't me. That was all you." "Bullshit, Daddy. But thanks for the hug. Then my mother showed her true colors and betrayed me in similar fashion. And like my long-lost Daddy, I too had to leave home. I did so never looking back. It left me all alone, but I was armed with what he had taught me, and that made the future bright with hope and possibility. "And then...we found each other again. It had been five long years. Yes, I now was a 19-year old college student, but I knew that my Daddy was still there for me. He took me in and made it easier for me to pursue my lifelong goals. He showed me that it was possible to create success from nothing after losing it all. He showed me that hard work pays off. He also showed me that opening your heart to the possibility of love is the only way to live life. And that is so true." "Yes it is, baby." "Daddy, stop that. You're distracting me. Where was I? Oh, yes. I wasn't the same little girl I had been when he first became my Daddy, and that meant our relationship had to evolve to the next step. I was a big girl now, and I had matured, with a big girl's outlook on life and a big girl's desires. But even a big girl needs a Daddy. And he's the perfect Daddy for me. "I can be a very bad girl. When I moved in with him, I continued to live my life the way I had since I escaped from mother. He found my preferred practice of going nude at home to be disturbing at first. He told me that a young woman like myself should wear at least a minimal account of clothing around men of his age." "You still don't listen very well when it comes to that." "You're not complaining about that right now, are you Daddy? Didn't think so. I asked him what was objectionable about the human body, and he replied that I was too beautiful, my breasts too large, my ass too shapely, my walk too sensuous for him to remain unmoved. But he said that it was my home too, and said that I should dress and act in a way that made me happy. I encouraged him to relax at home and enjoy himself, and on occasion he would. I have to admit that I liked when he did that, because my Daddy is a very attractive man, and I know he sensed that I felt that way about him. But I also realized that the love he showed for me deserved a more appropriate response, so I began wearing at least some clothing during those times to make him more comfortable. You don't look very comfortable right now, Daddy. Guess that's my fault, hunh?" "Just keep reading. I think I know where this is going. I hope." "It wasn't long after that that he began to show me that my Daddy understood that I had grown up and began to prove to me he loved me in a different way than before. He began tucking me in bed two or three times a week. But it wasn't the way he tucked me into bed as a little girl, when I needed him in that way growing up. I was a big girl now, and our bedtime ritual showed a change befitting my greater maturity. "The first time my Daddy offered to tuck me in, I told him I would love for him to do so, and prepared myself for bed. By preparing myself, I mean getting undressed to sleep naked. It's better for your health to sleep that way, since your body regulates its own temperature at night, and wearing clothing actually puts stress on you when you're in ideal sleeping conditions. Just like right now, Daddy." "Ideal conditions. Yes." "Mmmm. Yes. When my Daddy came into the room, he stopped and looked at me for a moment that seemed to stretch into eternity. Finally, I asked him if he thought I was pretty. He first looked shocked, then smiled at me as he strode forward. He told me that I wasn't just pretty. He said I was beautiful as he kneeled down at the edge of my bed. "My Daddy told me that not only did I have perfect features, that my body was perfect as well. He reached over and caressed my breasts, and told me that they were not just large and full, but shaped perfectly with the kind of nipples that would drive any man wild with desire." "Oh, yes, they are. Mmmm." "And with that, he took first the right one in his mouth, then the left, sucking on them gently. He caressed my breasts as he did so, and I felt myself warm to his touch like no other before in my life. Oh, yes Daddy. Just like that. "He could tell that I have extra sensitive nipples, and used his experience to drive me wild. My Daddy practically worshipped my tits that night. It was amazing. He climbed onto the bed, still kneeling as he continued to kiss and lick me. Aaahhhh. Yes. God, you're making it hard to read this. "I could also tell that he was aroused as well. My Daddy came into my room also prepared for bed, and that meant I could see his cock. From the time he began, I could see it become more and more engorged as time went by. It kept growing and growing, bigger and thicker than any other I had ever seen, fully seven inches in length and thick and strong. Just like now. Can you take over reading my essay. I really need to do something for you, Daddy." "Sure, baby. Oh my. That feels wonderful. Yes. When I saw it reach that amazing size, I couldn't contain myself. I motioned him to stand up next to my bed, and he complied with a confused and somewhat hurt look on his face. Then I got up, and kneeled before him. Before he could say anything, I reached out with my hand and drew him to me and slid my Daddy's dick between my lips. Oh, baby. You do that so good. Ah. "He let out a gasp as I began to bob my head up and down, taking a little more into my mouth with each motion. It filled my mouth and I savored the sensation and taste of his cock. Ahhhh. As I continued, I tipped my head back to look him in the eye as I sucked him. I pulled my head back, and his cock slid out of my mouth with a pop. 'I love your cock, Daddy,' I said to him and his face flushed red." "Just like it is right now, Daddy. Yum, I love sucking on your cock. Go back to reading. Mmmmmm." "Oh yes. Uh, yeah. I leaned down and began to lick and suck his balls. They had tightened, and I knew that they busy making some cum for me. I loved knowing that as I tormented him. I slid my tongue up my Daddy's cock and once again took the head in my mouth and resumed sucking him. Ahhh. Mmmm. Then he grabbed my shoulders and told me to stop. I was confused because I knew he loved having me give him a blow job, but I should have known what was next." "Daddy, you're shaking. Give me that paper. It's time for me to take over reading again. Just let me scoot up a little bit on this bed so you can follow along, okay?" "Oh. Okay. Sure." "I know you'll like this part. I know you like the view right now. My Daddy is not a selfish man, and he proceeded to return the favor I had begun to grant him. He got me up from my knees and guided me back to my bed, kissed me, and then laid between my spread legs and began to kiss and lick my pussy. Yes, Daddy. Oh, yes. Just like that It was clear he knew exactly what he was doing. His tongue played along my slit, caressing my labia. Then he moved up and began to concentrate on my swollen clitoris. Ahhhh. Daddy." "Mmmm. You are so wet baby. You taste good. Mmmmmm." "Ahhhh. I shuddered and moaned. How could I not? The sight of the top of his head with his distinguished gray hair between my upraised legs and the feel of his tongue lashing my sopping wet snatch was so erotic that I almost came right then and there. Ohhhhh. Ah. It was almost as if he could read my mind as he moved from clit to pussy, to outer lips and back, hitting each spot with perfect timing. OHMYGOD. Ah. Oh. "I thought it couldn't get any better until he thrust his tongue deep into my pussy and began pistoning it in and out. I could feel my juices EEEE. flowing and my pussy was this close to erupting EEEE. when he stopped again. EEEE. I let out a little sound of protest, but all he did was look me in the eye and smile and tell me that he had just been warming me up for what was next." "I know what's next. Oh, yes I know exactly what's next, baby." "Mmmmmm. He drew up onto his knees, positioning his stiff cock just inches from my pussy and asked me if I was ready. All I could do is moan a yes, and then he leaned forward. My Daddy's dick slid into my pussy. Oh, just like that. Yessss. It felt so huge and I felt stretched, but I was so wet that he was able to enter me with ease. The feeling was Ahhhh. Daddy. indescribable. I had fantasized about him for years, and it turned out being fucked by my Daddy Ahhhh. felt as good as I had imagined. Daddy." "Mmmm, baby. I'm going to go nice and slow here. I like hearing you read while we fuck." "Uh. Uh. Uh. Yes. His length and girth was perfect. Any bigger would have hurt. Instead, he filled me to the brim, all the way to the core, and stretched my pussy walls to perfection. Ahhhh. I had my Daddy's cock inside me finally, Daddy. and I was determined to make it as good for him as it was for me EEEE. as I used my pussy muscles to grab and massage his dick as he thrust slowly in and out. I was in heaven, because my Daddy. WAS. IN. ME. OHMYGOD. DADDY." "Put that paper down. Enough reading. Time to fuck." "Yes. Daddy. FUCK ME." "Oh, baby, your pussy is so tight. Ah. Ah. Ah. You like Daddy's cock in you deep, don't you." "Ahh. Yes. Deep. Fuck. Me. Hard." "Aaaah. Umm. Oh baby, I'm close." "Cum in. Me. Daddy. AhhhHHHHHHHHH." "AHHHHHHHHHH. Ohh. Ohh. Ohh. Yesssss." "Ahhhh. Mmmmmm. Yesssss." "Yes." "I'm going to finish reading it to you now, okay?" "Uh huh. Go ahead." "Ahhhh. I know that when I read this to him, I will have had to stop reciting what I wrote at this point because hearing about this will have been too much for him and I will have had to put the paper down while he once again showed me his love. And truthfully, it will have been too much for me as well. "We will be lying side by side on my bed as I resume reading this. His huge cock will be glistening with our moisture as we both try to catch our breath. My pussy lips will be reddened from my Daddy's use, tender and puffy from being split and pounded by his dick as I screamed in pleasure, and his cum will be dribbling from deep inside where he filled my pussy with shot after shot after shot of his essence. The sheets will be tangled and moist from our exertions, especially the area between my legs as our juices commingle and put yet another stain on the bed, because I'm sure I will have added my own fluids to the mix. "The joy of all this is almost beyond words. The best part of all is knowing that my Daddy loves me so much that he gives me what I truly need. I will smile, secure in the fact that the time is not too far off when he will again prove his love to me in the most fundamental way possible and his beautiful dick will be inside me once again. "I am a lucky girl to have a Daddy like him. The end." "So? Did you like it?" "The essay, or what we just did. Hey, ouch. Don't smack me like that!" "Well, you deserved it." "True." "So?" "It was well written. It was heartfelt. Felt other places too." "For sure." "But if I were you, I wouldn't turn it in." "Why?" "Because it was supposed to be an expository essay. That was more of an ejaculatory essay." "Good point, Daddy. I'll just save it for us. We can read it together every once in a while when you tuck me in." "Suits me. G'night baby." "'Night, Daddy." The Essay Contest The Essay Contest When I attended high school in E-------, New Jersey, many years ago, I was pretty much a poor student as the result of my being a "troublemaker." Initially, I had no desire to go to college and would not have been able to do so had it not been for one thing. The Senior Essay Contest. This was a really big deal in the school. A half dozen of the service clubs in town, such as the Rotary and Kiwanis, had gotten together and contributed a total of $3,000—which was a lot of money at that time—to the winner of the annual Senior Essay Contest. There were to be eight finalists, and they all would get to read their essays—no more than five minutes each—before an assembly, at which the judges would pick a winner. Despite being the biggest troublemaker in the school, I had a flair for writing and won the contest with an essay called, "The Recycled Generation." With the combination of the prize money, my glib tongue, and the essay as credentials, I was able to enter a prestigious small New England college on a scholarship. The upshot of all this boring information is that it appeared I had talent as a writer, and within twenty years of high school graduation, I was making a lot of money as the result of a detective novel series about "Sherri Holmes." Sherri was a beautiful young woman who used the methods of her namesake, Sherlock Holmes, to solve modern day crimes. I was not married and lived in a lovely penthouse apartment in New York City. I guess it should not have been a surprise to me that someone from the alumni association of our old high school contacted me through my publisher and asked if I would be the sole judge at that year's Senior Essay Contest. The subject was to be, "Why I Am an American", a boring subject if I ever heard one. But now the prize was up to $5,000, a sizeable sum. How could I say no? So I didn't. They alumni association arranged for my accommodation at the Marriott Inn in town, and I arrived to a luncheon in my honor, made a short speech, and later retired to the Marriott with a nice gift bottle of Bordeaux to watch whatever was on TV. The reading of the essays was to be at the school assembly the next day. I was at the point of being totally bored with what was on TV and thinking about going to bed even though it was only nine o'clock when there was a knock on the door. Who could that be? I walked over and opened it. In front of me was the most beautiful little blonde, about five-foot-four, with lovely blue eyes. She looked strangely familiar, but I didn't know why. She was carrying a covered dish of something and what appeared to be a small blue gym bag. "Hi!" she said," My name is Bree Taylor. You don't know me, but you knew my mom, Janet Baker?" I laughed. "Of course I knew your mom. We...dated when we were in high school here. No wonder you looked familiar. You look so much like her." "That's what everyone says. But according to her, you did a lot more than date," she said. "According to her, you both were hot and heavy." "I guess you could say that," I said, "Would you like to come in?" "Yes." I opened the door, and she entered. "She sent this plate of homemade chocolate chip cookies over for you," she said, handing me the plate. "Why thank you. But why didn't she come herself?" "Well, she said she would rather you remember her as she was. She's gained a little weight." "But still beautiful, I imagine. As is her daughter. You look so much like her." "Everyone says that. And my mom said to tell you she's sorry now she didn't marry you instead of the loser who left us—since you've become so rich and famous." "Yeah, I guess that would have happened if I had not moved so far away to go to college. Such is life. You never know what's going to happen." "She did get married, but they got divorced." "I'm sorry to hear that." "At any rate, I'm in the essay contest tomorrow, and my mom suggested I come over and give you a preview of my essay." "Well, since there are seven other people competing, I think that would be a little unethical," I said. "Obviously, I can't play favorites, even though I did like your mom." "We know that, but could you at least let me read my essay to you? It will only take five minutes." "I guess I can do that. But I can't promised any special treatment." "We know that. Can I use your bathroom? There's a costume that goes with it." "Of course." She carried her gym bag to the bathroom. Janet Baker. Who would have believed it? What a beautiful daughter she had produced. And that daughter had been right: We were hot and heavy—at least for that time. After a few minutes, the bathroom door opened, and Bree emerged. I was stunned. The only thing she was wearing were three American flags. Two of them were about 4 x 5 inches and, tied together with a white ribbon, they covered the front of her breasts. The third one, about 8 x 10, and also tied with a ribbon, covered the area below her belly button. She walked to the center of the room carrying her speech. "This is what you're going to wear when you read your essay?" I asked incredulously. "Well, not exactly, but this is the outfit that my mom put together for me to wear when I gave you a preview of my reading," she said. "She said that you would get a kick out of it." She turned around to show me that she had an American flag on the back as well, so what she wore was sort of like an Indian loincloth. "Well, that's hardly the word..." "So can I read it? My mom added a couple of lines to the original." "I guess..." I couldn't figure out what to make of this. She began reading. "Why I am an American..." About a third of the way through, I began to get an idea of what this was all about. "....So if we don't participate in the democratic process, we will lose our freedoms and they will fall to the floor—just like this." She pulled the bow of the ribbon on the side of her chest, and the two small flags that covered her breasts fell to the carpet. Her nipples, about an inch wide, were a lovely pink, probably proving she was a real blonde—as her mother had been. About two thirds of the way through the five minute speech, she came to another mom-inserted line: "So if we all don't go out and vote, our rights will fall to the ground—just like this flag." She pulled the ribbon at the side of her hip, and the flags front and back fell to the carpet. Now she was completely naked, and she continued the speech that way. Since her eyes were on the speech, I could feast my eyes without embarrassment on her lovely little tuft of blonde hair. It looked like it had hardly been used. "And that's why I like being an American," she concluded. "That is a very charming speech, and you will have to tell your mother that I loved it," I said. "But there are seven other contestants in this contest, so if this is meant to be some kind of a bribe, I have to tell you that I cannot accept it." "You already have accepted half of it—just by watching," she said. She stepped forward, so close that I could smell the warm musky perfume of her skin. "Do you want the other half?" "What is that?" I croaked. "My mom told me to be sure to tell you that I've been on the pill for the past six months, since I and my boyfriend have been doing it," she said softly. "And what is that supposed to mean?" "Whatever you want it to." I could feel myself withering. "How old are you?" I asked. "I just turned eighteen," she replied. That was it. I ask you, dear reader, what would you have---Oh, never mind, I know what you would have done. But lucky for me, I'm a man of high moral values. That's why I jumped at the chance. I unzipped my pants. "Do you know how to suck cock?" I asked. "Of course." "Then please do so." She got on her knees, put her hand into my pants, and pulled it out herself. "You're really big," she said. "Watching you has made it that way." She licked the head of my cock for awhile, and then she took it into her mouth. She might have been small, but she was able to swallow the whole thing, and I began to envy her boyfriend. I realized I was going to pop at any moment, but I did not want to lose this wonderful opportunity that probably would never come again. I pulled my cock out of her mouth. "I want to fuck you," I said. "Okay." She stood up. "You can straddle me." And spreading her legs, she did exactly that. I tried to stuff it in her tiny twat but found that she was too tight. "You need some lubrication," I said. I picked her up in my arms and carried her to the bed. After laying her down, I got between her thighs, dipped down and began eating her as if she was the daily dessert special. God, she tasted so good! Just like peach juice. In a little while, between my lubrication and her own natural juices, she was ready. I lifted her narrow hips up and plunged my cock into her. I fucked her as hard as I could for about five minutes, then came deep inside and collapsed on top of her. I think she came too, but that could be just self-flattery on my part. It was not until I got off of her that I remembered that this was motel-row. The blinds of my room were fully open, and a Holiday Inn was only fifty feet away! I went over to the blinds, bowed to acknowledge any silent applause and closed them. Some folks must have gotten a very nice show, better than they would have seen on the hotel Adult Channel—if Holiday Inn had one. "Give your mom my regards—and tell I said thank you VERY much," I said after she had dressed and was preparing to go. "I will," she said with a smile. "And thank you—I really enjoyed it. No wonder my mom liked you." "That was a long time ago. But I don't think you have anything to worry about in the essay contest tomorrow." "Wonderful," she said, and she left. The next day, I was picked up by the chairman of the alumni association and taken to the auditorium. I listened attentively to all eight of the five-minute essays on "Why I Am an American." I pondered all of their merits since I am a man of high moral values. And guess who won? The End The Essence of Helena This story is, like others of mine in this genre, a fantasy. I have had much fan-mail, mostly favourable, but there have been those who misunderstand the true nature of BDSM – even one who thought I ought to have learned something from Nazi death camps! I think of myself as a feminist, and anti-violence, and believe that the receiver of punishment may well dominate the giver – per Pauline Réage (whoever she was!) I was brought up in a closed, Catholic community, in a mountain village, where going out with boys was unthinkable, until one became your novio, or 'official' boyfriend, when it was permissible to be seen together without a chaperone – just about. At eighteen, an attack of claustrophobia finally got the better of me, and I caught the bus down to the big city, ignoring the pleas of my entire family, and got a job in a department store. I have this problem, you see. I am beautiful, and I know I am. The local boys all wanted to take me out for years, but I wanted more, wanted something they couldn't give me, maybe something no Spanish man could give me. Back in my village, my one and only sexual experience was when my cousin Jordi from Barcelona came to visit us, the summer before I left – it may even have been part of the reason I left. We were sat around the table one evening, having a quiet dinner of buñuelos de bacalao en salsa when I felt pressure against my ankle. Surprised, I looked up, and saw Jordi looking at me intently. Then his leg slid up mine, and I felt a tingling which ran right through me, and a nice moistness started to build between my legs. I also became aware that my nipples were hardening uncomfortably. It seems strange, now, to relate this, but I had turned eighteen, and really had absolutely no clue what was happening to me, or how I should react. What I did know was that I was tremendously excited. After dinner, I went for a stroll down to the canal at the bottom of the cherry-orchard, and there, all alone, was Jordi. He pretended to be surprised to see me, but I suppose he was waiting for me. When I sat next to him, he took my wrist and placed my hand on the front of his trousers. At first I recoiled at the shock of what I found there, tenting his trousers, but he was breathing hard, and pulled down his zip, so that I had his rock-hard cock in my hand. 'Oh, Helena,' was all he said, then his whole body stiffened and he closed his eyes, his face went bright red in the twilight, and his trousers and my hand, were covered with slimy goo. He muttered something, grabbed at his trouser-front and hobbled awkwardly off. I was both thrilled and frustrated by the occurrence. I knew from that moment that I needed more – I needed real, fulfilling sex. To get back to my story. I started work in the department store, in the fashion department, where I got along very well, loving the nice clothes I was selling every day. On the floor where I worked, several international boutiques were represented, and the manageress of one of them approached me, when I had only been working there a few weeks, and asked me if I spoke English. 'A few words I picked up at school,' I said, 'why?' 'Because I think you're just what we're looking for to go and work in our store in New York,' she said. The upshot of all this was that I found myself sharing an apartment with two other girls in a so-so area of New York, but working in a wonderful environment of high fashion, and only weeks after leaving my village behind. My flatmates were Mitzi, the languid, attractive daughter of Jewish Hungarian immigrants, and a coffee-coloured Costa Rican called Paula, who seemed to like to keep her distance. My story really begins one Friday evening in May, when I had just turned nineteen.