I was frying some baloney for a sandwich when my mom walked into the kitchen. It was only noon, pretty early for her to be up on a Saturday when she didn’t get off work until 2:00 a.m. and sometimes scored a few bucks afterwards.

“Jesus, Puss, you’re dressing like that to see your dad? You look like shit.”

I was wearing my racerback tank and some baggy boxers I had stolen from her boyfriend, Jack, ones he’d used to wipe up his cum. I had washed them since. “Fuck him,” I said.

“And watch your fuckin’ mouth.”

I put the three slices of baloney on some rye bread and grabbed an orange soda out of the fridge. I could see she wasn’t going to shut up about it, though.

“He hasn’t seen you since you were ten,” she went on.

“Nine,” I corrected her.

“Whatever. He’s buying you a fucking car and you can’t even wear something better? Borrow something of mine, if you want.”

“And look like a whore?”

Mom gave me an ugly look and the next minute I heard her slam the bathroom door, which was usually my exit. The bathroom has the only door in the place that locks.

Jack came into the kitchen and eyed my sandwich. “Wanna make me one of those?”

“Make it yourself.”

“Just askin’. Those my boxers you’re wearing?”

“What about it?”

“Nothin’. They look better on you.” He moved up behind me where I was standing at the counter eating and pressed his tool into my ass crack.

I stuck my ass out and began to grind on him. I wondered what it would be like to wrap a slice of baloney around his dick and eat it off.

His fingers went in my pussy and began to play with my clit. I was just starting to come when the doorbell buzzed and I heard Mom come out of the bathroom. Jack dove for a kitchen chair and I was just shoving myself back from the counter when my dad walked in.

Jack said “Hey,” but Dad ignored him. He seemed to be staring at my boobs.

“I wouldn’t have recognized you on the street, Puss,” he finally said.

“Yeah, well it’s been eight years,” I said. I wouldn’t have recognized him, either. He’d been going bald the last time I saw him. Now he had a bunch of hair on his head, like some kind of hair hat. He also had puffy cheeks and a real, wrinkly neck. I recognized his eyes, though. They were a dark brown like mine and looked almost black in the dim kitchen. And his voice was the same; I remembered his voice. And he still had those large, white teeth, but hell, he was a dentist. He was wearing khakis and a dark green golf shirt and a gold watch and loafers without socks. He looked like a douche. I hoped nobody I knew saw me with him.

We took off in his Lincoln with the Beach Boys blasting out of his speakers. I remembered that music from when I was a kid and he was always playing it. He was the one who’d taught me to surf before I even started school. He was a great surfer then, or at least I thought so. I bet he wasn’t surfing anymore.

We were on the 605 when his arm went across my chest and his hand clamped down on my right boobie.

“What the fuck?” I said, shoving it off me.

“Just wanted to see if they were real,” he said, chuckling a little. “I wouldn’t put it past your mother to get you extensions.”

“They’re called implants. And she’d like to, but I don’t want them.”

“Good for you. I think yours are perfect.”

“That’s what Jack says.”

“Who’s that, your boyfriend?”

“Naw, Mom’s boyfriend.”

“That sunovabitch!”

“Hey, he was just sticking up for me.”

We drove a few miles in silence before he said, “You don’t really want a pickup truck, do you? How about a nice little hybrid that won’t cost you much in gas?”

“I want a pickup.”

“I think we need to discuss this, Puss.”

He turned off the freeway and I was expecting to see car dealerships, but instead all I saw were some seedy-looking motels. Dad pulled into one called the Afternoon Delight and parked in front of the office. He got out of the car and I watched as he opened the trunk and took out a canvas bag. I rolled down my window and he said, “Stay here while I register.”

I waited until I could see him standing at the counter before I got out and followed him. The desk clerk looked me over when I walked inside, but when I said, “Hurry up, Dad,” he lost interest. That was until he saw me start rubbing Dad’s cock through his khakis. The kid was about twenty and his face turned bright red.

I don’t know if Dad’s face turned red, but his cock turned hard. Jesus Christ, what kind of father gets a hard-on from his daughter?

Dad hustled me into room 107 and slammed the door behind him. I thought he was going to start lecturing me, but without even stopping to turn on the AC, he took out his cock and shoved me to my knees.

“Suck for your truck,” he muttered as my mouth closed over his bulbous head. Jesus, I thought Jack’s dick was big, but my dad’s was the size of one of those giant vibrators. Hell, it was almost as large as that guy in the porn video fucking the girl in the ass. I felt really in luck that all it was going to take was a blowjob to get Dad to buy me a truck.

I gobbled on that dick like it was a turkey leg and I was starving. Every once in a while I’d pull the head out and stick my tongue in his slit while my fingernails brushed against the underside of his head. Dad would growl and say, “Pussy, Pussy,” which he used to call me when I was little. He had a strange taste, almost like he put aftershave down there, but I knew his cum would get that taste out of my mouth.

I pulled my tank up over my boobies so I could pinch my nipples while I sucked him. I couldn’t get him down my throat as he was much too big for that, but he gave a grunt every time it came to a stop and I would squeeze my lips down hard on him. I thought how cool it was going to be to swallow his cum, which was filled with potential brothers and sisters for me. I’d be eating my siblings.

He was taking a very long time to come and I was starting to get bored waiting. I pulled my mouth off him and said, “Fuck me, Dad.”

I watched his eyes widen. “That would be incest, Puss.”

“So?”

“I don’t do incest.”

I pulled my top back down and went and sat on the bed, shoving the pillows between my back and the headboard.

“Get back over here, Pussy.”

“Get over here and fuck me.” The bedspread was sticky and looked like it had been come on countless times.

Maybe you won’t get that truck after all.”

“Maybe I’ll go have a talk with that guy in the office.”

He kicked off his loafers and draped his khakis over the back of a chair.

I watched his dick as he walked to the bed. It was shiny with my spit and I couldn’t wait to feel it in my pussy. He grabbed the pillows from behind me and shoved them under my ass and then knelt between my legs and put his cock against my pussy hole. It wouldn’t fucking go in.

“What a nice, tight little pussy,” he said, grinning at me.

“All the better for you to fuck, Daddy.”

“Indeed.”

He took it slowly and I had a lot of pussy juice for him to smear on his dick. He gradually managed to inch it inside of me until I felt like my insides were the skin enclosing a huge sausage. He made the cocks of my surfer friends seem like miniatures. He didn’t take it slow once he was inside, though. He began to pound me so hard that the headboard was banging against the wall and I was afraid it would be heard all the way to the office. I lifted my ass to meet each thrust, grunting along with Dad. I thought of telling Jack about this and imagined him laughing his ass off. I wasn’t laughing, though. It was the best fuck I’d ever had and I was thinking I’d like to live with him instead of Mom.

I came with a scream, and then I came again, losing consciousness briefly. Dad came at the same time the headboard shattered and plaster fell out of the wall. I knew how it felt—I was feeling shattered myself.

He rolled me over on my back and rested his head on my ass and I could feel his warm breath on my asshole. I begin to feel something more, something wet, and I realized he had his tongue on my asshole and was licking it. When he moved it inside, I groaned because it felt so good.

“You’ve got a great ass, Puss.”

I couldn’t think of anything to say.

“I’d love to try it in there sometime.”

“Okay.”

“Ever been ass-fucked?”

“No,” I lied, having a feeling he’d want to be the first.

“Mmm, well start thinking about it.”

“Could I live with you, Dad?”

“I don’t think that’s going to be possible, Puss, but you could come spend the weekend with us, meet my wife and see how you get along.”

“She’s eighteen, right?”

“Yes, she is. You’ll have a lot in common.”

I knew her name was Tiffany, which I thought really sucked as a name. I couldn’t imagine I’d have anything in common with someone named Tiffany. Except for fucking my father, of course.

His tongue was moving inside of me and I was wishing it was the size of his dick.

He finally stopped and said, “Well, let’s go look at some trucks.”

He ended up buying me a ’91 Toyota Tacoma pickup in Red. It was the happiest day of my life.