Virginal 18-year-old Abby wants Daddy to be her first

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Virginal 18-year-old Abby wants Daddy to be her first, this story features the love of a father and daughter.

Sprawled across the soft sofa, sharing a blanket with my older brother David, I casually flipped channels as the wind blew outside and the shows rambled on. It was an atypical weeknight in our suburban home. Mom was in the kitchen, preparing dinner; daddy was still away on business, and David… was annoying.


“Don’t you have homework to do, creep?” I questioned loudly, hoping our mom would hear and force my older sibling to the demented hole he called a room.

“Whadaya gonna do about it, Abby?” he answered with a growl, kicking me underneath the covers and swiping the remote.

“Hey! I was watching that!” I exclaimed angrily, though I had no idea what show had even been playing. Only a year apart, David and I never got along.

“The hell you were, cow,” he replied, turning the set to MTV.

We were near opposites; I was the “good-girl” type, which David continually teased me for, while he spent far too many hours in detention. Neither of us was much for sports, though I did make it on the cheerleading squad at the beginning of my senior year. However, it proved to be too time-consuming with my other activities and I dropped it before Christmas holiday.

Despite my achievements and activities, I was the archetypal loner. I spent much of my free time with my nose buried in a book in some dusty corner of the local library.

I had struggled through puberty as my body turned on itself. Once a gangly little girl, I’d filled out and sprouted curves almost overnight. I’d become embarrassed of my looks and shunned myself from my peers.

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Irritated, I threw the blanket off and stormed to the kitchen.

“Helen, you’ll have to figure it out on your own, I’m a little busy right now.” I groaned.

Helen was mom’s newest paralegal and had kept her life torturous since she was hired. As leading attorney, all mom’s time was spent averting some law office disaster. She was consistently burdened with depositions and cases, leaving dad to raise the kids… at least when he wasn’t on business trips. It was a frustrating situation for the entire family, though it seemed especially hard on daddy.

“Mom,” I hinted quietly, pointing to the stove as a pan of water began bubbling over.

“Not now, Abby!” she whispered sternly, slapping my hand away. She’d never been much of a housewife, and could barely make coffee.

My parents met in their mid-twenties at a single’s retreat, but married out of necessity when mom became pregnant with my brother. It was a marriage based solely on obligation.

As David got older, he sort of fell away from mom and dad. My brother spent nearly all his time with his friends, and he saw our parents as a means to an end.

But daddy and I had a special bond. Until the past year, dad had been the homemaker while we grew up. He spent his time cooking, cleaning, going to PTA meetings, helping with homework, and taking us to school functions.

I spent every afternoon with him; he’d become my best friend. It was a wonderful time for us, but that world crumbled away when he was forced to get a job to make ends meet. I felt I was losing him. Mom, of course, believed it was for the best and said I’d become too dependent.

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