My Daughter Showed Me She Was No Longer a Girl

My name is Andrés, and I’ve just turned fifty-two. I’ve been married for more than two decades, we have three children, and for some time now whatever there was between my wife and me in bed had completely died out. We argued more than we touched, and when we did touch it was out of habit, not desire. I mention this because without that emptiness, nothing that happened afterward would have made sense. Or excuse.

It all started one spring afternoon. I got home early from work and, as I crossed the living room, caught my daughter Lucía on the sofa with her boyfriend. She had just turned nineteen, was in her first year at university, and until that day I still saw her as the little girl who used to play with dolls on the rug. What I saw froze me in place: she wasn’t a little girl. She was a woman, and the boy knew it better than I did.

When he left and we were alone, I tore into her like a thunderstorm. I yelled that she was too young, that this was no way to behave in the house, all those empty phrases a father says when in reality he doesn’t know what’s going on inside him.

A few days later her friend Natalia came to pick her up, a girl her same age. She sat waiting for Lucía in the living room with her legs crossed, and I couldn’t look away. I don’t know if it was months of drought or what, but I kept staring longer than I should have. Lucía noticed. And when her friend left, she came toward me with her arms crossed.

—So I can’t do anything with my boyfriend because I’m a child —she said, her voice tight—, but you’re drooling over Natalia, who’s the same age as me. Either we’re both children, Dad, or we’re both women. Make up your mind.

Her words left me speechless. Several days passed when we barely spoke. One night I came home after another brutal argument with my wife, opened the door, and the house seemed empty. I went upstairs to the bedrooms, and when I reached the top, I heard moans coming from Lucía’s room.

I thought she was with her boyfriend again. The built-up rage, the exhaustion, the frustration of months, all of it mixed together in a second. I yanked the door open, ready to make a scene.

And then I froze in the doorway.

She was alone. Lying on the bed, an old T-shirt on top and nothing below, eyes fixed on the laptop screen and one hand between her legs. She had two fingers sunk into her cunt, sliding in and out with a rhythm she had perfected by herself, and with the other hand she was rubbing her clit in short circles. She was soaked; I could hear the wet slap of her fingers against her slippery flesh. It took her a while to notice I was there. And I, instead of backing away, kept looking. I felt my cock harden inside my pants in a way that had nothing paternal about it, and I hated myself for it the very instant it happened.

When she finally saw me, she let out a scream.

—Dad! What are you doing here? Get out of my room now.

I turned to obey, ashamed, but her voice changed suddenly. Calmer. Almost calculated.

—Wait. Don’t go. We need to talk.

I stepped closer without really knowing why. She didn’t cover herself. She sat up a little against the headboard, legs still open, and looked me straight in the eyes. Her fingers were still shining with her own wetness.

—I know things with Mom are going badly, and I’m sorry, because I love you —she said—. But now that you’ve seen me like this, tell me the truth. Do you really think this is the body of a child?

It wasn’t. I had it right in front of me and I couldn’t lie, neither to her nor to myself. I told her so. She laughed, a low laugh, and dropped her gaze to the bulge pressing against the fabric of my pants.

—I’m glad you admit it. But it’s not just your mouth saying that.

She pointed to the evidence with a tilt of her chin. I didn’t know what to answer. The silence turned thick, charged with something neither of us dared name.

—Come on, sit —she said, patting the edge of the bed—. Let’s talk like adults, since apparently we’re both that now.

She closed the laptop and set it on the dresser, but I caught a glimpse of what she’d been watching: a video of a young girl hungrily sucking the cock of a much older man. My stomach knotted. A mix of alarm and, to my shame, raw arousal.

—I’m going to show you how much I love you —she murmured, with a smile that was anything but innocent.

She slid out of bed and knelt in front of me before I could react. Her hands trembled just enough to seem real, not rehearsed. She undid my belt, pulled my pants and boxers down to my knees in one motion, and my cock sprang up hard, pointing straight at her face. A small moan slipped out of her when she saw it, as if she’d found something better than she expected.

—You should have told me earlier that Mom doesn’t know what she has in this house —she said softly, wrapping her hand around it.

I should have stopped her. I thought it. I thought about my wife, her brothers, everything that was about to break apart. But I didn’t. She brought her mouth down and licked me slowly from the base to the head, the tip of her tongue brushing me as she looked up at me. Then she opened her lips and took me in as far as she could, choking a little when she reached the back of her throat. I pulled back, she drew breath, and then she swallowed me again until tears filled her eyes.

—Fuck, Lucía —I muttered, and that said everything.

She sucked hungrily, with a technique that didn’t fit the image I had of her. She handled me with a confidence that unsettled me. She sucked my balls one by one, ran her tongue under the head, swallowed me whole again and pulled off with a wet sound, saliva running down her chin. With one hand she jerked me off, with the other she stroked herself between the legs. I tried to hold on, to restrain myself, but no one had touched me with that kind of intent in years, and I felt myself climbing too fast.

—I’m going to come —I warned her, almost by reflex.

—Do it in my mouth, Dad —she answered, and took me all the way to the back of her throat.

I came like that, gripping the headboard so I wouldn’t collapse, feeling each pulse of my cock spill semen against her tongue. She didn’t let go. She held on until the end, swallowed some of it and let the rest slip from the corner of her mouth, showing it to me before wiping it away with her thumb and sucking it slowly, never breaking eye contact.

—Much better than the guys my age —she said afterward, her voice a little hoarse—. You really come.

That comment put me on guard. How many guys? She guessed the question from my face and smiled.

—Trust me, Dad. I make sure you enjoy yourself to the fullest. But you have to accept that I enjoy myself too. On my own terms. Deal?

I didn’t answer, and my silence was a yes. I wanted to give her something back, to even the score, so when she stood up I was the one who gently pushed her to sit on the edge of the bed and knelt between her legs. I parted her thighs with both hands and found a pink cunt, swollen, its lips shining from all the touching she’d already done. I hadn’t eaten a cunt like that in years, but instinct overpowered clumsiness.

I started slowly, with a flat tongue, licking her from bottom to top, gathering her wetness. When I reached her clit I stayed there, circling it, sucking it with my lips, pressing the tip of my tongue. She clutched the headboard and arched her back, and my name turned into “Dad” between each ragged breath.

—Nobody my age does this to me —she panted—. Keep going, please, don’t stop.

I slid two fingers into her while I kept sucking her clit. I moved them upward, searching for that inner spot I hadn’t touched in years on any woman. I found it and she went rigid all over, closed her legs around my head, yanked my hair. She was drenched; my saliva mixed with her juices ran down my chin, my neck. I added a third finger and fucked her with my hand while I licked without stopping.

For a while I stopped thinking. She’s not my daughter, I repeated to myself, she’s a beautiful woman with whom I can forget the arguments, the dead marriage, the fifty-two years weighing on my shoulders. When she came, clutching my hair, screaming through her teeth so as not to wake the neighbors, I felt her squeeze my fingers inside with a force that made my hand go numb. I felt younger than I had in a decade.

—Lie down —I told her, my voice rough and my cock already hard again, hurtfully so.

She fell back onto the bed and lifted her legs. Before going on, I rummaged through her bedside drawer; she pointed me toward her backpack, where she had condoms half-hidden. I knew she was on the pill, her mother had told me without imagining I’d ever use that information this way. I put one on anyway. It was the only responsible thing left in that room.

I set the head at her entrance and she dropped her hips to take me. I entered slowly, feeling how she opened around my cock, how she tightened around me centimeter by centimeter. She was so wet that nothing had to be forced; she swallowed me whole in one go, all the way to the root, and we both moaned at the same time.

—You fill me up so much, Dad —she whispered against my ear—. So much more than he does. Fuck me now.

The first thrust was slow, to feel her, to see her face. The second was not. I started fucking her for real, my hands gripping her hips, pulling almost all the way out and then driving into her in one stroke, until the sound of our bodies crashing together filled the room. She set the rhythm with her voice, with her hands on my neck, with her legs around my waist dragging me deeper.

—Harder —she begged—. Harder, don’t hold back, break me.

I lifted one leg, set it over my shoulder, and from that angle I went even deeper. I could see her tits bouncing under the shirt with every thrust. I pushed the fabric up to her armpits to see them, to be able to suck her nipples without stopping. They were hard, dark, and she shuddered every time I bit them.

At one point she asked to get on top, and I let her. I lay back and she straddled me, grabbed my cock and slid it back into her, lowering herself onto me with all her weight. She started riding me, palms on my chest, circling her hips at first and then moving up and down, faster and faster. Seeing her like that, in control, tits bouncing, mouth open, with that passion my wife had forgotten years ago, overwhelmed me.

—Look at me, Dad —she panted—. Look at me fucking you properly. I’m your girl, see how your girl fucks you?

I grabbed her ass with both hands and helped her move, driving all the way to the root with every downward drop. She squeezed her own tits, pinched her nipples, took one hand to her clit and rubbed it while she rode me. She came again on my cock, eyes closed, biting her lip so she wouldn’t scream. I felt her squeeze me inside in waves, and I thought I was going to come with her.

—I want you to finish on my face —she said when she noticed how close I was—. I want to feel it hot. I want to see it.

She was once again my spoiled little girl asking for a treat, only this treat was different. She got off me, ripped the condom off with her teeth, and knelt between my legs. She started jerking me fast with both hands, mouth open and tongue out, looking at me as if she were challenging me. And, as always, I gave her what she asked for: I came in thick streams over her face, over her forehead, over her cheek, over that pink tongue waiting below. She ran her fingers over her face, brought them to her mouth, and licked up every drop as if it were a prize.

***

After that first time, the way I looked at her changed forever. She stopped being the kid I helped with her homework and became something I no longer dared name out loud. A few days later I came home and found her in the living room, bent over her laptop, working on a college assignment. She didn’t get up. She only gave me that smile.

—Hi, Dad —she said—. Mom and the boys aren’t back until late.

The insinuation hung in the air. And it became total when, as she bent down to pick up the phone she’d dropped, I realized she wasn’t wearing anything below the waist. Naked ass, round, pointed toward me, and between her thighs the damp shine of a cunt that had been waiting for me for a while was already visible.

—Do you like what you see? —she asked, glancing at me out of the corner of her eye.

I came up behind her and ran my hand between her legs. She was wet through and through. I slipped two fingers inside without warning and she bent over the table, resting her elbows on the top, pushing her ass back against my hand. I lifted her T-shirt the rest of the way up over her tits while I kept moving my fingers inside her. She laughed softly, that laugh I was already starting to recognize as the prelude to everything.

—Want to play with your girl? —she said, arching over the table—. Put it in already, Dad, I’ve been imagining you all afternoon.

No answer was needed. I pulled down my pants, took hold of myself, and rubbed my cock between her lips, soaking it in her own juices. When I set the head against her entrance, she pushed her ass back and took me, swallowing me in one go. I fucked her like that against the edge of the table, with an urgency I’d kept stored for months. Her college papers scattered across the floor and neither of us looked at them.

She had trouble staying still; she moved her hips searching for me, pressed her ass against my pelvis with every thrust, and between moans she said things I should not have enjoyed as much as I did.

—You do it better than they do —she panted—. So much better. None of them fill me like this. None.

I grabbed her hair, wound it around my fist, and pulled back, forcing her to arch her neck. I bit her shoulder without stopping fucking her, squeezed one breast with my free hand. She took one hand to her clit and rubbed it to my rhythm, squeezing around me each time she got close to the end.

I turned her around, seated her astride my thighs in the dining chair, and from there she kept riding me, her tits at the height of my mouth. I sucked her nipples while she fucked me with her legs spread. Then I put her on all fours on the rug, grabbed her by the hips, and penetrated her from behind, watching my cock come in and out, shining between her cheeks. We tried positions as if we’d known each other all our lives, which in a certain way was true. She came twice more before I finished; the second time with her face pressed to the floor, biting the rug so she wouldn’t scream.

When I was close, she pulled me out of her cunt again, turned around, and knelt once more. She took me all the way down her throat and looked up at me, my cock twitching between her lips, and that was the trigger. I came into her mouth for the second time, and again she swallowed as much as she could. I was beginning to understand that in this game Lucía set the rules, and I, gladly, followed them.

***

The last time we crossed a line, it was different. I got home and, before opening the door, heard voices inside. I came in slowly. In the living room Lucía was with her boyfriend. Her dress pulled up to her waist, him behind her, fully dressed, his hands under my daughter’s underwear. She was moaning in a way I recognized at once.

I stayed in the hallway, paralyzed, not knowing whether to back away or explode. Then Lucía turned her head and saw me. She didn’t get scared. She held my gaze and, with the smallest tilt of her chin, asked me to stay. To watch. It was her way of sealing the pact between us.

And I stayed. Hidden in the dim hallway, watching as the boy yanked off her panties, laid her on the sofa, and spread her legs wide open. He buried his face between her thighs and started eating her cunt noisily, sucking her all the way, until she grabbed his head and asked for more. I watched my daughter give herself to another man while a sick part of me enjoyed it as if the pleasure were mine.

The boy pulled down his pants, took out his cock —younger, a little slimmer than mine— and thrust into her in one shot. Lucía screamed, hooked her legs around his back and started moving against him with a hunger that left me breathless. She took the lead, guided him, told him in his ear what she wanted. She said things I should not have been turned on to hear. I, who had initially hated that boy, now watched him almost with gratitude for making her so happy, and I realized my cock was hard again inside my pants, pressing against me through the fabric.

They tried several positions. She got on top and rode him as she had ridden me, with that same look of concentration, biting her lip, squeezing her tits. Then he laid her face down across the sofa arm and fucked her from behind, her ass in the air, giving her light spanks that made her moan louder. At one point he whispered something in her ear and she laughed, changing position, getting on all fours on the sofa and arching her back to lift her ass.

—You know I love it —she told him—. Go ahead, I’m waiting.

He spat between her cheeks, got into position, and pushed in slowly. She gave a long moan, mouth open against the cushion, and when I looked at her I discovered she was looking at me. At me, in the darkness of the hallway, while another man fucked her from behind. Without taking her eyes off mine, she started pushing her ass back, asking the boy to go deeper. She came like that, looking at me, with her boyfriend’s cock in her ass and one hand between her own legs.

I watched it all from my corner, my heart hammering against my chest and my cock pressed tight against the zipper. The boy finished over her ass and collapsed beside her, exhausted. When they were done, and while they kissed on the sofa, I took off my shoes and slipped to my room without making a sound. I sat on the bed in the dark, cock hard, waiting.

I heard the front door. The boy had left. Then Lucía’s footsteps approaching down the hallway. When she opened my door, naked, with the other man’s semen still glistening on the inner side of her thighs, with that smile that was already my undoing, I knew there was no turning back.

—I’m proud of you, Dad —she said, kneeling in front of me and unfastening my pants—. You saw me with him and respected it. You’ve earned a reward.

She pulled out my cock, already rock hard, and took it into her mouth still tasting of him. She sucked me slowly at first, looking up at me, so I wouldn’t miss a single detail. Then she climbed onto the bed, sat on me, and slid me into herself, lowering down with her eyes closed. I fucked her while in my head the image of her with her boyfriend mixed with the reality of having her there, riding me, with her legs still marked by him, with her nipples reddened from the other man’s lips. I fucked her to her rhythm, gripping her hips, feeling her sink all the way to the bottom with every thrust.

When I was close, she got off, lay beside me, and opened her mouth. I came over her face for the second time that week, and she swallowed as much as she could, licking her lips as if she’d just eaten something sweet. And I understood, with a mixture of vertigo and surrender, that from that day on my life would move to the rhythm she decided. The game had already begun, and the rules, all of them, were written by Lucía.