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First off, it’s not as bad as it sounds, really. I’m her step-father, and not her real dad. But in the end it’s just an excuse. I mean, I raised her through her teen years and saw her off to college, so I guess, unless she really thought her deadbeat dad was a father to her, I was it.

OK, yes, I had desires that I tried with all my might to suppress. She was just beautiful and sexy. I saw it right after she got her braces off when she was fourteen. That smile. That killer smile. That and her round tush and playful, sexy walk, and even her voice. I’m working myself up now, I know, but I just have to tell you how it was.

Actually, I was jealous and very protective of her. I’d give any boy that walked through that front door the third-degree. No one dared lay a hand on her because they knew they would have to answer to me.

Me? Well, I’m 45 and in damn good shape. Seriously. I’m a bike-rider and swim a mile a day. Yes, I’m a fitness junkie. It’s what I do. Yes, it is. I own the local athletic club, well, my wife, Jenny and I do. I met her there, as a matter of fact. I was just starting out after the divorce. She was from the old rolls, and I was trying to learn the membership after I took over. I had no problem remembering her, that’s for sure.

I knew she had a kid. She sometimes came in with her in the afternoon with her book bag. She’d sit in the lounge doing homework while mom did her thing. I’d offer her snacks, and I’d laugh when she’d turn her nose up at the fruit and juice. I knew she wanted junk but not on my watch.

It was a couple of years before I finally got bold enough to ask her out. The mother, not the kid. Less than a year later we were married, and Pris became my daughter, too.

So that almost brings us up to date.

Pris graduated high school with honors and had been accepted at the state school, which coincidentally was one of the top-five party schools in the nation. I know; I’m an alum. Yes, I was perturbed. Here was my innocent (I kept telling myself) child going off into debauchery at the hands of god-knows-who. Well, I would soon find out who it was.

I remember unloading the truck and trying to help organize her dorm room. She would have none of it. In fact, she asked me to leave in no uncertain terms.

Well, there’s a reason for that. I later learned that her roommate had developed something of an immediate crush on me and kept telling Pris that she thought I was “super hot” as I was hauling up furniture.

Pris just went off the deep end and shut her down immediately. Then she just basically told me to leave. Her mother stayed behind, but I went cool my heels walking around the quadrangle on campus. Jenny told me later a little about what happened but didn’t say much more.

Parent’s Day, about a month-and-a-half later was the next time we saw her. She didn’t want us to meet her at dorm but in the cafeteria. It was obvious she was keeping me away from her roommate, Sarah. It didn’t work, though, because Sarah and a few friends intercepted us before we got to the cafeteria. We had a grand time chatting together, but the conversation took a turn that made me constantly look at my wife for signs of discomfort. Sarah was regaling us with her “extracurricular” activities and status with the male population on campus. And then she said something about always having an open date for somebody special and added a wink in my direction. That was my cue to excuse ourselves and head to the cafeteria.

Pris almost blew a gasket when Jenny told her that we met Sarah and some friends outside. I wanted to laugh but knew better than to make light of Pris’ concerns. That episode cast a pall over the next few hours of the visit. We went out to eat, said goodnight and went to our hotel room.

Jenny remarked about Pris’ reaction to our encounter with Sarah. She said she seemed very jealous. I didn’t even treat it remotely serious. I cast it off as a young girl trying her flirting skills at an older guy.

The next day was full of activities for the students and their parents so we never came in contact with Sarah or her friends again, much to my, and I’m sure Pris’ relief.

When Pris finished her first semester I know she was glad to be home, and I was glad to have her home. Our empty nest was now full once again, but it didn’t take long before the subject of Sarah was raised, and I cannot honestly tell you who broached it first. Despite all of my arguments to the contrary Pris was convinced that Sarah had her sights on me with no good intent in mind.

OK, it was stupid on my part, but that’s because I was uneducated in such terms. I told Pris that I didn’t think that Sarah cared for me that much. In fact, when we were leaving the crowd in front of the cafeteria I distinctly heard Sarah tell her friends I was a dillweed, and they all agreed emphatically and laughed. Pris let out a scream of exasperation and promptly stormed out of the room. Jenny ran after her after hearing her bedroom door slam.

Later I received my education when pendik escort Jenny came sit by my chair to explain what happened. She told me the term is DILF, not dillweed.

Same difference, I offered.

Not quite. DILF, I learned means Dads I Like to Fornicate, except fornicate is not the exact term used. I don’t know if I was mortified, honored, or treated like a piece of meat. Jenny looked serious with her hand on my arm. I said nothing except, “oh.”

The subject of Sarah was taboo the remainder of the break. Thank god, the rest of the holidays passed uneventfully except for good wishes freely expressed.

Jenny brought Pris back to school. We thought it prudent that I not be put in that environment, since things were going so smoothly. The rest of that semester went just as smoothly, even when I drove her back after Spring Break.

Pris was back in the nest that Summer, too, working at the mall. It was just like old times — almost. It seems that Pris had become a little liberal in her mannerisms and behavior. It was not unusual for me to see her yawning, half-sleepwalking to the bathroom each morning in her pajamas. But her attire had become quite skimpy and all but nonexistent. More than a few occasions I did a double-take to see if she had anything on below the waist. A little thong was all that remained of her modesty, and I have to say that my comfort level was about as substantial as her underwear.

I never mentioned this to Jenny, and she was rarely awake when Pris prepared for work.

Also, Pris was leaving her bedroom door ajar after returning to the bathroom, and I frequently was treated to a view of her bare back, and once or twice her bare butt — all inadvertently, mind you. And I’m sorry if this sounds wrong, but long blonde hair against bare skin will even make the Pope stare.

She seemed to have mellowed quite a bit from the raw freshman, and had settled into a lackadaisical lifestyle, that, frankly, had me a bit worried.

I approached Jenny one evening with my concerns and asked if she had ever had “the talk” with Pris. I was worried that she had become sexually active, and, while I am not ok with that idea, I thought it wise that she be educated.

Jenny assured me that Pris knew everything, but also told me that Pris had confided in her that she was still a virgin. I was relieved but not completely convinced.

For some unexplained reason Pris got interested in football, something I tried to get her to do last year, since I really wanted to go to some games, but couldn’t justify the six-hour drive to sit by myself in the stadium. But she really learned all about the team pretty quickly, and I’d received sometimes five text messages a day talking about the coach, quarterback or gaps in the defense. I finally had the boy I always wanted, I texted her back jokingly one day.

One day she surprised me with an actual phone call! She told me about the game of games coming up at the end of the next month. I chuckled to myself, because this rivalry had always been a huge game, but she was only just learning about it. Then she completely blew me away when she said she got two tickets — one for her and me! She purposefully left Jenny out because she didn’t want to blow $60 on her. One thing — I had to be a student, so I had to dress not like a dad.

In my four years attending school there I could never afford a ticket to go. Not once did I wonder how she snagged two. My euphoria in going did not allow me to ask questions.

I admit I was actually giddy driving down for the weekend. Now I was going to experience the big game, and sitting in great seats, too! I called her on the way down asking her if she knew that she could scalp these tickets at the gate and probably pay for the rest of her college. She laughed and said she couldn’t wait to see me.

I checked into the hotel and went visit my sweetie to take her out to eat. She was so excited to see me she jumped in my arm and wrapped her legs around my waist. We hugged and kissed, and then I have to honestly admit, I began to get uncomfortable down there because of the proximity. She didn’t even seem to notice; she was just happy to have me all to herself. We talked and laughed for three hours at the restaurant. Then I brought her back to her dorm where we stayed downstairs talking even longer. All of a sudden the buzz I had from the wine suddenly vanished when I saw Sarah and a few of her friends coming into the dorm. I looked at Pris who was still gabbing away, waiting for the moment when she would notice.

“Oh hi, Sar. Hey Jill, hey…” and she called each of the girls by name. “Remember my Dad?”

They all greeted me and smiled each swaying their hips like little schoolgirls. I smiled back and wondered what had happened between those two that caused this armistice. I was elated, to say the least, that the verboten subject of her roommate was finally removed from the no-speak list.

I kissed Pris goodnight and left for my hotel. We planned to leave for the stadium maltepe escort around 11:00 a.m. for the one o’clock game. There’s a lot to experience before kickoff, I told her. She promised to be ready, but I had my reservations knowing the she rarely woke before noon on weekends. I intended to get to her dorm at 10 just to be sure we left on time.

I had my workout, dressed and had breakfast before 8 the morning of the game. So I had an hour to kill on campus before making sure Pris was up and at ’em. I walked the quadrangle again taking in the beauty of the autumn leaves, knowing full well they’re probably ignored by most of the student population. I sure didn’t notice when I went to school.

I was lost in my reverie until I heard my name called. I turned to see Sarah coming from the cafeteria bundled against the morning cold. I thought the wool cap and mittens were overkill, but rationalized that it was kind of chilly. She skipped up to me and grabbed my arm holding on for what I assumed was warmth.

“How ya doin’?” she said through chattering teeth.

“I’m good, Sarah,” I answered. “Are you that cold?”

“Yeah, just drank about a half-gallon of O.J. It’s fresh this morning, probably cuz the big game,” she explained.

“I should bring some to Pris when I wake her up,” I said aloud to myself.

“Oh,” piped Sarah, “she’s been awake. Still getting ready, though. You heading that way?”

I told her I was so she hung on to my arm the rest of the way to the dorm. When we walked inside she flung off her stocking cap, and I was surprised to see that she had not only let her hair grow but that it was auburn. She was a blonde last time I saw her, and I’m afraid I was busted when she caught me looking at her hair.

“Yeah, this is the real me,” she explained. “Now the drapes match the carpet.” She smiled wickedly.

It took me a second, but I understood and became embarrassed. My cheeks turned red, and I could feel them burning.

She hugged her face into my arm saying, “Ooooo, you’re so cute!”

I honestly did not know how to respond. My heart sank when the worst possible thing that could have happened happened. Pris walked down the stairs into the parlor and saw Sarah hanging on my arm. I rose out of my chair as my remora hung on seemingly for dear life.

“Hi Tim,” said Pris. She didn’t look the least bit perturbed at Sarah’s public display. She soon released my arm saying she was going upstairs and reminding us to be sure to get some orange juice from the cafeteria before it was all gone.

“G’morning, Darling,” I pecked her on the cheek. “Sleep well?”

She nodded her head and took Sarah’s place on my arm. This was strange, indeed. I needed time processing what just happened with those two.

“Hungry?” I offered.

“Uh huh,” she nodded again, so we headed off for the cafeteria where I had juice and watched her barely eat. I should have been appalled that she selected the cinnamon roll over the granola and fruit, but I was used to her bad eating habits. Her metabolism was amazing and helped her maintain 115 pounds since her senior year in high school through her freshman year.

I told her I packed a bag for the game with some goodies. She said that she had, too. She warned me that all bags would probably be searched, so unless I hid my stuff well it would probably be tossed before I got through the gates. That made me rethink how to carry the stuff in, but I didn’t think too long about it. Instead, I was wondering what kind of bag she packed.

We actually left a half-hour before our planned time, and I’m glad we did. The area outside of the stadium was a hotbed of activity with tailgating up and down the boulevard. As far as the eye could see there were little tents and grills smoking making the whole place look like a Boy Scout Jamboree, well, except for the booze — and that flowed freely.

I was led to one tent with greek letters emblazoned on everything. My very excited step-daughter introduced me to some of the characters grilling and drinking and making smart remarks. I wondered to myself which one of these assholes was having their way with my beloved little girl. I don’t know if any of them sensed my mood of inhospitality, but they hid it well if they did.

We were offered beer and hard liquor, which I refused and was about to do the same for Pris, when she spirited a tiny silver bottle from somewhere beneath her jacket.

“Pris!” I shouted aloud in spite of myself.

“It’s cool, ‘Dad,'” she said with special emphasis on ‘dad’ while rolling her eyes. I caught myself and remembered my college days. Then I remembered too much and once again my hostility toward the frat boys was rekindled.

She took a tiny nip, then capped and re-stowed the bottle.

“Not gonna offer your old man a hit?” I joked with her.

“Sure, if you want,” she said quickly going back into her jacked. I grabbed her arm and told her I was kidding. She knew I was a lightweight at drinking. A little wine calms me kartal escort down; two glasses make me mellow. More than that and I’m useless.

We went down the boulevard, Pris introducing me to people impossible to remember. We’d stop and visit for a while. Pris would take a little nip, and I realized I didn’t even know what she was drinking. And where did she get that flask?

Along the way we met up with some of her dorm mates including Sarah. They giggled and laughed aloud, and I suspected that more than a few of them had been doing more than nipping like Pris. Suddenly we were a crowd going down the boulevard. Boys would call out to the girls, and the girls would be very raunchy calling back to the boys. Boy, times sure have changed. It seemed that the girls were much more risque in public than any of the guys. They talked to each other as if I wasn’t even around.

I know I became embarrassed hearing them talk about some of the boys, about how small one of their “peckers” was, or how another couldn’t keep it up very long. The conversation had degraded to an awful level, and I glanced over at Pris, who thankfully, wasn’t a part of it, to see if she saw my discomfort. She happily chatted with Sarah and another “good” girl near the front of the crowd while I was surrounded by what I came to know them as, sluts.

“Pussy pounder… licks like a pussycat… cums too soon,” were all descriptions I was hearing vividly.

“I need an older man that knows how to treat a women right. That knows how to pleasure me just right, and all night long,” was a phrase that was definitely meant for my ears because I saw the girl who said it staring right at me. Perhaps she thought I was as drunk as she was, but that’s a poor excuse for being stupid in public.

When we got the alumni tent all of my resolves were conquered by a persistent Phil German, an old classmate and president of this year’s association. I found myself with a Jack and Coke and a bratwurst in a bun in my hand. Not even a whole wheat bun. “Ah, what the hell,” I told myself. I’ll pay for it on Monday.

The buzz from the liquor lasted right up through kickoff and Pris had to pull me up and down by my arm to cheer the team. After a while I started to feel pretty happy watching our boys steamroll over their defense. That QB could do no wrong.

“He’s never thrown an interception, you know?” Pris screamed in my ear. My heart was elated hearing her say this, like we could finally speak the same language.

I watched her take the little flask out every now and then and just take the tiniest sip. I finally asked her to share and she willingly offered the flask. One little sip was all you need I learned quickly. It was some type of liqueur.

She saw the look on my face and yelled in my ear, “Cointreau!”

Oh, my baby likes the good stuff. The Cointreau warmed my insides and soon I had unzipped my jacket. The sounds, smells and booze combined to make me feel as if I were having an out of body experience. Teamed with the fact that I was living a lifelong dream and watching the game of games I knew life couldn’t get better than this.

The final score of 48-13 had us cheering, hugging, kissing, high-fiving everyone around us. I think every one of the girls in that gang kissed me, and I suspected a few came for seconds. I was almost oblivious to the frivolity around us. I was just happy and in an incurable good mood – and what felt like a permanent buzz.

I have no idea who was driving my car, but I was in the back seat with Pris sitting in my lap, and three other girls squeezed back there with us. I thought I was imagining things at first, but there definitely was someone’s hand under my butt squeezing. I didn’t even give the culprit the satisfaction of knowing that I felt it, but continued to talk about the game and how well our players did. Pris even mentioned some specific plays, and we had an in-depth discussion of each one. The other girls just giggled and laughed.

We drove for a while before I realized that we were not heading back to campus. Instead, the car was parked in front of this large house with quite a few people on the lawn. We scrambled from the car, a mass of entangled bodies trying to become untangled, and I almost let out a cry of surprise when I felt a hand openly grope my crotch from between my legs. I turned quickly to the girl behind me, a cute little brunette who simply said “Oops, I thought it was the door handle.”

I hadn’t a clue how to answer that, so I let it go. That was probably my first mistake besides getting tipsy.

We walked into the house and there seemed to be a full bar in every room since everyone there had a drink in their hand. I had to quickly leave the living room because of all the smoke. I soon found myself in a large rec room with a pool table and a ping-pong table. A foursome was cuing up at the pool table, but I couldn’t figure the ping-pong table out. There were a number of cups placed in pyramid fashion on each end of the table and people were trying to toss balls into each cup. I don’t know if I was fascinated or just dumbstruck, but I watched this strange activity for a long time. Each time a ball would land in the cup someone would have to drink its contents. When all the cups were gone that team lost.

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