Everybody's Wrong

"Face it, Steph, your dad is hot," Chloe said, and then she not-so-subtly began sucking on a popsicle.

I blushed as my chorus of friends all murmured their agreement.

"Uh-huh, yeah, cool. Can we talk about literally anything else?"

"I don't think so," Brian said, also licking the popsicle in a suggestive way. "Frankly, it's the only thing I ever want to talk about."

"Mmm..." Darla said, throwing her head back in mock ecstasy, "what are you doing, Mr. Collins?"

"Oh, it's so wrong but oh-so right," Robin said.

And then they all started giving their popsicles blow jobs, too.

"He's going to hear," I whispered, smacking Robin lightly on their arm.

My friends all giggled, but they hushed up awkwardly as my dad appeared on the porch. He didn't seem to notice their sudden silence. He carried an ice pack and two ibuprofen. He knelt down at Chloe's feet and handed her the pills.

"This combo should help with the pain and reduce any swelling."

He looked like he was about to touch her foot and apply the ice pack when he got a look of embarrassment on his face. He turned to me.

"Uh, Steph, maybe you can do the honors."

"It's OK, Mr. Collins," Chloe said, thrusting her foot closer to my dad.

God, I wanted to smack her.

"I'd rather a professional do it," she continued, practically purring the words.

My friends all held their breaths as my dad swallowed. He laughed nervously.

"Uh, it's just an ice pack. But you want to keep it on the sting if you can bear the intensity."

I wasn't sure why he was struggling with this. He is an urgent care physician, after all. He touches people's everythings every single day.

Frankly, I was getting a little embarrassed at his embarrassment. Did he have the hots for my friend? The thought made my skin crawl.

Finally, he manned-up and grabbed her heel. I could almost hear my friends gasp. He laid the flexible ice pack over her foot and glanced up at her. "This OK?"

Chloe smiled the kind of smile you never want to see your friend smile at your father and said, "Divine."

My dad cleared his throat and stood.

"Great. Please let me know if it gets worse. And if you have any trouble breathing at all, you know what to do."

My friend was struggling to breathe normally, all right.

This all started ten-fifteen minutes earlier. My friends and I were all having fun at my eighteenth birthday party. It was the first warm day of Spring, and we were having a pool party, though the water was too cold for swimming. But that didn't stop us from donning our bathing suits and lounging by the pool. Cornhole was played, gossip was gossiped, teasing, flirting, pizza, soda, cake, the usual bit. Everything was going great.

This was the first time Dad and I had had anyone over to the house since Mom died, which was two years ago. Victim of a drunk driver. We were both so devastated, we closed ourselves off from the world. I went to school and Dad went to work, of course, but we never let anyone over at our house. It felt wrong. The place had practically become a mausoleum. But a few months ago, Dad seemed to finally start emerging from his cocoon of sorrow. He smiled more, laughed more, began chatting with the neighbors, and even attended a block party. Last month, I asked if I could have a pool party for my birthday, and was pleasantly surprised when he said yes.

My friends eagerly accepted. They had always wanted to see my house and meet my dad. They'd only ever caught brief glimpses of him when he would attend my dance recitals at school.

Then one day, my friend Brian called him a zaddy, and it suddenly became a thing. Any glimpse of my dad would launch a long Discord chat, filled with rude comments and pictures and the like.

I tolerated it with good will, though it definitely made me blush. I'd never thought of my dad that way and was frankly surprised when my friends became so obsessed with him.

My dad's handsome enough, I guess. He's no model, and he's not jacked. But he has a commanding presence. Also, he's nice, and a lot of my friends have pretty rotten relationships with their dads. All that, coupled with the fact that he's been such a semi-mysterious figure to my friends, and I guess I can see why they had been jokingly thirsting for him

Or at least, I thought it was a joke.

But then my party started and my friends arrived and every one of them, when they interacted with my dad, the moment his back was turned, they would make some kind of gesture indicating how hot they all thought he was.

I still thought this was all a joke meant to make me feel uncomfortable.

But then the bee sting happened.

Chloe, Brian, Claire, and Finn were all playing cornhole, when suddenly Chloe yelled and started waving her hands around her.

Yellow jackets. She must have disturbed their nest. She got stung in the foot and that damn bee chased her until she jumped into the pool.

My dad had been baking cookies in the kitchen when he heard the disturbance. He ran out and then he went into action mode. He wanted to know what happened, and then he directed everyone to help.

The moment Chloe climbed out of the pool and struggled to put any weight on her foot, my dad scooped her up into his arms.

"Door," he said to Brian, who held open the porch door.

"Towels," he said to Claire. "Over there on the bottom shelf."

"Epi-pen," he said to me. "Top shelf in the guest bathroom. Also get band-aids!"

And suddenly I was running across the house.

He planted Chloe in the lounge chair and started asking questions: was she allergic, was she ok, did she have any other stings, etc. etc.

And he ran our porch like it was an E.R., finding ways to get everyone involved in making sure Chloe was OK. Then he went and to get the ice pack and ibuprofen, and that's when my friends began making even more comments about how hot my dad was.

And after that, my house became the hang-out house. My friends were constantly finding reasons to swing by, and my dad loved having people around. It helped bring him out of his depression to hang out with young people

And no, before you go there, he was never creepy. He never hit on my friends. He never made anyone feel uncomfortable. He was just a nice guy. And any of my friends were always welcome to stay over--especially those who were having trouble with their parents.

He did, however, seem to have quite the crush on Chloe.

None of my friends could tell, but I could. She loved to flirt with him. All my friends did, even my gay male friends. But with her, he would blush slightly, and look for an escape route.

At first, I wondered why her. I mean, she was stunning, but I had a lot of stunning friends.

Then I realized it was because she was a ginger.

Like my mom.

I guess my dad had a type.

Turns out, so did I.

About two weeks after my birthday party, my friends and I were all hanging out at my house, talking about our favorite celebrity crushes. When I listed mine, Brian turned to me and said, "You realize they all look like your dad, right?"

My friends, ever so helpful, all teased me about wanting to sleep with my own father.

I nearly barfed at the thought.

But then I couldn't get it out of my head. --Not sleeping with him, just the fact that I had a crush on him, and apparently had had one for years.

And the more I thought about it, the more I couldn't stop thinking about it.

He was still my dad, of course, but now everything about him suddenly seemed sexy. His forearms, for example. And I found myself watching him tending to the garden, carting things around on that wheelbarrow and using various hand tools. I loved how muscular his thighs were in his ripped jean shorts.

But it wasn't just physical. I loved the way he always made sure everyone was comfortable and included in the conversation. The way he commanded respect and gave it in equal measure. How well he treated my queer friends.

I even loved his reading glasses, which Claire referred to as his "slutty little reading glasses." I loved watching him slide them on to read things--the way he turned his head to do so--and then watching him take them off again.

The more attracted to him I got, the less attracted I found the boys in my school. Guys I had thirsted over only two weeks earlier suddenly seemed... well, they seemed like boys.

It was becoming a thing, and I was embarrassed about it.

It was my dirty little secret.

And the more attention my friends paid to him, and the more he seemed to enjoy hanging out with them, the more jealous I found myself getting.

Then one day, I dyed my hair.

I had not been gifted with my mom's gorgeous red hair, but when I finished dying it, it matched her shade perfectly.

I put on my plaid shirt and black tights--consciously trying to dress like Chloe--and came downstairs and said hi to my father.

He blinked and had to physically restrain himself from giving me the once-over, when he recovered, he said hi, and told me I looked gorgeous. Of course, dad always told me I looked gorgeous, but this time it hit different. He kind of stuttered over the word.

Maybe I was imagining things, but I was not imagining how it made me feel. I felt a rush down in my nethers, and I knew I was going to be dressing like this and flirting with him the same way my friends did from now on.

I found excuses to touch him and to tease him. I tried on new outfits--ones that were very different and much more revealing than my previous fits--and I would model them for him.

He seemed flustered by my attention, but he never said anything. He was always kind and generous. And he never made me feel creepy.

I'm not entirely sure what I was hoping to get out of this. It wasn't like I expected him to suddenly grab me and tear my clothes off. That would have been so out of character for him and I honestly didn't even want that.

That's not to say I didn't fantasize about sleeping with him.

I did.

Often.

But all my fantasies were all about me seducing him. Slowly working my magic on him until he realized he couldn't live without plunging his rock-hard cock into my soaking-wet vagina. Or, I'd think about various ways that he would be tricked into sleeping with me.

They were all very convoluted and ridiculous situations, though I found them all very hot.

I bought myself a vibrator, and every single night, I'd fantasize about my dad and please myself until I fell asleep.

Then it happened.

And it all began with the least-sexy thing ever: a colonoscopy.

My dad needed one and needed someone to drive him home afterwards. He asked if I would do so, and of course I said yes. All I had to do was sit in the waiting room while he had the procedure, which would require anesthesia, then drive him home afterwards and get keep an eye on him. Easy peasy.

So, on the big day, I drove him to the clinic, he said "Wish me luck" as he was taken into the back, and I got out my phone to play some chess.

About forty minutes later, I was told he was finished, everything was fine, and I could go see him.

"He's still very groggy, but it'd be good for you to be with him when he wakes up."

I nodded and headed back.

"By the way," the nurse added, "people often say the weirdest things when they're coming out of anesthesia. None of it means anything, but I thought I'd brace you."

I asked if he had said or done anything weird, but she said no, and then she reminded me that he hadn't even woken up yet. But she told me about some of the weird things people had said and done, and I understood.

"So if he doesn't recognize you, or if he says crazy, out-of-the-pocket things, you shouldn't worry about it. The drugs will wear off in a few hours and he'll be right as rain. Just take him home, let him get some sleep, and he'll be fine."

I thanked her and went back to my dad's tiny room.

As promised, he was still sound asleep, but after a few minutes, he stirred.

I asked him how he was, but he didn't respond.

A few moments later, he reached out his hand in my direction, and I took it.

He smiled dreamily and tried to pull himself awake.

I suddenly felt very daring, but I brushed the hair out of his face. Then I tickled his scalp a little with my nails. He hummed slightly.

Oh fuck, I thought, this is crazy.

Then I realized that no one had asked me who I was. I guess they didn't care. I was just his driver. They didn't ask any questions beyond that. I could have been anyone.

My dad's eyes fluttered open and finally stayed that way.

He looked at me and his mouth opened wide. He looked like he had never seen me before.

"Oh my god," he said. There was a tone of happiness and innocence in his voice that I had never heard before. He looked me up and down like I was the most beautiful creature he had ever seen.

Blood instantly rushed to my groin and I found myself swallowing.

"Are you an angel?" he asked.

This was no come-on. He was genuinely asking.

I blushed, smiled, pulling my long red hair away from my face, and said no.

"Who are you?"

"Your girlfriend," I said before I could stop myself.

Once again he gasped and opened his mouth wide.

"Are you serious?"

He looked me up and down.

"You're the most beautiful person I've ever seen!"

"Thank you!"

"And you're my girlfriend?"

I nodded.

"Oh my god." He thought about it some more as he took me in. "Oh my god!"

He asked me lots of questions. What was my name? Chloe, I said. How did we meet? How long had we been dating? Etc. etc. etc.

Finally the nurse came in and discharged him.

"That's my girlfriend!" he said, pointing at me.

I gulped. Uh-oh, charade over.

But again, the nurse didn't know or care who I was.

She just smiled and said, "Well, she is one lucky lady!"

I wheeled dad to the car and helped him get in.

On the way home, he kept staring at me and asking me questions and saying, "Are you sure you're my girlfriend? Wow! I'm the luckiest guy in the world!"

The clinic was only a few minutes from our house. Once home, I took Dad's hand and helped him walk inside. Then I brought him to his bedroom.

"Doctor says you need to rest."

"OK!" he said still glassy-eyed, still regarding me with absolute wonder.

"Chloe, huh?" he said. He reached his hands towards my bare shoulders. "Can... can I touch you?"

Uh-oh, I thought. Up 'til now I had crossed a few questionable lines, but was I really going to go THERE?

"Of course you can, silly. I'm your girlfriend."

Guess so. It was like one of my fantasies come to life.

He gasped and gently caressed my shoulders as though he had never touched a woman in his life. He petted me and stared, relishing the feel of my skin under his fingertips.

My skin that was instantly covered in goosebumps.

"And your hair!" he said. He reached up a hand and ran his fingers though, savoring the feel of every last red strand.

"And your face." He said this almost in a whisper.

He stroked my cheek gently with his thumb and fingertips, mouth open wide and staring at me like he was touching a priceless work of art.

I turned my face this way and that, feeling my heart beating harder and faster.

When his thumb glazed across my lips, I gasped for breath. The lightness of his touch. How it tingled and tickled.

I opened my mouth and he pulled my lower lip down and ran his thumb over and around and around and I suddenly my skin was on fire.

"You're just so beautiful," he said in awe.

I kissed his thumb. And he gasped.

"What did I do to deserve you?"

"This," I said. And I pulled him in for a kiss.

A gentle one, but not a father-daughter kiss. It was the kind of kiss I had dreamed of planting on him. Plush. Tender. Wet.

Our lips parted and he stood there, eyes closed, mouth slightly open as if reliving the moment.

"Oh my god," he said. "Oh my god, I can't believe this."

I plunged in for another. This time, not so gentle. This time, I forced myself on him. And this time, I dared to slip my tongue inside his mouth. His tongue met mine, and he traced circles on my tip. Then he pressed his tongue against mine and we stood there mouths locked together, sliding our tongues all over each other's for what seemed like hours.

He reached around and held me, pulling me in for a tight hug, caressing my back, and holding his body against mine. And we kissed and kissed and kissed.

I could feel him growing, his cock making its presence known.

I broke off our kiss to pull up my tank top. Then my sports bra. And he gasped again as if he had never seen breasts before.

He touched them gently and I gasped and guided his head down to them.

"Oh my god," he said again. "I can't believe this is happening to me."

Me either, buddy.

I pulled him in and he kissed my right nipple. Then the left. I shivered and moaned and he took that as a sign to keep going.

He licked and licked and licked my nipples, making them harden and working me into a tizzy.

Then he nibbled and I gasped and pulled him in, thrusting my groin up into his.

I threw my head back and he kissed his way up to my neck, and then he went to town, ravaging my neck, my face, my chin, my lips, my ears, my tits. His mouth was all over me.

And I wanted more.

I pulled my shorts and panties down.

Once again, he gasped.

He knelt in front of me and touched my stomach, my hips, my thighs, my ass.

He kissed me everywhere I wanted him to kiss, licking and sucking and loving me, his scruffy five o'clock shadow tickling me and driving me crazy. Finally he paused and plunged his tongue in between my thighs. And he began to lick my soaking wet pussy.

I grunted and pulled his head in for more.

He reached around and grabbed my ass, squeezing it and pulling me frantically into him as he licked and licked and licked my labia and my clit, working into a rhythm, and changing it up right when things threated to be too much.

I was bucking my hips into him, running my hands through his hair when the first orgasm hit me. I grunted and yelled yes, yes, yes and he kept licking and licking and I kept cumming until he finally just held his tongue steady and let me writhe against it until I calmed down.

Only I wasn't calm.

I wanted more.

I wanted everything.

Fuck it, I thought. I'm in it now.

I pulled him up and took off his shirt. Then I started licking him, working my way up and down and side to side, all over his torso. And he kept saying "Oh my god! I can't believe this is happening! What did I do to deserve this?" as I licked his abs and pulled down his pants, his cock smacking me in the face.

And I knelt there, staring at his dick, head soaked with precum, pointing straight at me.

And I slowed down and gently caressed it with both hands.

He gasped and stared at me in wonder.

I looked up at him. I bit my lip. And then I licked his head.

I lolled my tongue all over that thing, soaking up the precum. I flicked his cockhead with my tongue and made him twitch with pleasure.

Then I wrapped my mouth around it and grabbed his hips.

Oh my god this was so much sexier than I had dreamed it would be.

I licked and slid my tongue underneath, tickling that little area under the head and making my dad shake.

Then I plunged forward. Slowly. Licking and absorbing his cock, millimeter by millimeter, pulling back a bit, plunging forward a little bit more.

Every movement I made sent spasms and shivers through him.

I fucking loved this.

I never wanted to stop sucking his cock.

Finally, finally, finally, I took his entire length inside my mouth, his head hitting the back of my throat, before I started to pull back, twisting my head back and forth and savoring every moan and groan and exclamation of "Oh my god, I can't believe this happening to me."

And once I reached the top, I looked up at him and slowly made my way all the way back to the hilt.