Porn Star’s Daughter Ch. 01

Babes

[Author’s note: All named characters, specifically characters involved in sexual activity, in the story are over the age of 18]

Prologue: Bullies

It’s never a good sign when you walk up to a bunch of girls giggling their asses off in a huddle. It’s an even worse sign when one of them spots you approaching and warns the others, sending them in a fit of even more intense, albeit hushed, giggles.

“Oh!” said one of the girls. “Hiiiii, Shannon!” Her sing-song voice exaggerated a friendliness that was nowhere near genuine.

Oh god, now what? I thought. These girls had used me as a punching bag for the past three-and-a-half years. A familiar dread washed over me.

Simone, the leader of the wolfpack, took a step towards me and blocked my path. “Someone has been holding out on us,” she cooed. She raised a hand to brush my hair from the front of my face, causing me to flinch. The rest of her cohort had a great laugh at my expense for that.

I blushed, and tried to sidestep her. Just leave me alone! I wanted to shout in frustration. I knew, however, that this would just prolong the torture, so I just kept it to myself.

I hugged by arms tight tight against my chest. “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” I mumbled.

This just made the girls close in around me.”I don’t believe her,” one of the other girls said to another. “How could she not know?”

Simone’s eyes never left mine. The smile on her face was almost predatory. “Of course she knows, don’t you sweetie?” her voice was cloying with sarcastic friendliness. “Little Miss Rocket knows all about it.”

I frowned. “Rochet,” I corrected instinctively, instantly regretting it. Never let them see they’re getting to you. I expected Simone and her wanna-bes to come after me with another zippy insult, but instead her smile turned feral.

“Oh no it isn’t,” she hissed. “Now we know the truth.” On the last word she slammed a box against my chest. I barely caught the box with a free hand as Simone and her crew cackled wildly and abandoned me in the middle of the hallway trying not to drop everything on the floor.

The bell rang. Fuck! I was already late for class.

I finally managed to turn the box around so that I could see what it was. The experience was surreal, as if my brain was working in a jumbled order. I knew it was an old VHS tape, something I think my parents would have watched years ago, but with lots of tiny thumbnail pictures all over it. I turned it around so I could see the front cover, and nearly dropped all of my books anyway.

There, on the cover, sporting an early 1990s moussed hairstyle and a chestful of hair, was my father. Naked. Lying back on a couch with his legs spread, a censorship bar covered an implied enormous penis.

The over-the-top banner shouted that it was “too much cock for any one woman!” and “Deep Throat Contest!” In big, bold letters, unmistakeable as it was unmissable, was the top billing: “Rod Rocket and His Incredible Missile!”

I wanted to die.

I could feel my face flush hot and red with embarrassment, and wanted to drop the cassette in disgust. If I did that, though, someone else might find the tape and as it was I had no idea how to do damage control. I immediately tossed the video cassette into my backpack, and hustled off to class. There was no time to put it into my locker. If there had been a discrete trash can somewhere I would have tossed it, but there just wasn’t an opportunity to do so and not get caught.

“And where is… welcome to my class, Miss Rochet,” came the sarcastic drawl of the teacher. “I’m glad to see we aren’t hindering your busy schedule, too much?”

“Sorry, Mr. Rawlins,” I muttered, and slinked to my desk. All I wanted was to was hide in the back of the room and hope that the earth would open up and swallow me whole. Unfortunately for me, Mr. Rawlins liked to “encourage class participation,” so had the desks in the room arranged so that they faced each other in two rows on either side of space where he liked to walk. Just my luck, I had the misfortune of sitting right across from Simone. Of course.

I drew my hair down in front of my eyes and tried to pretend that if I didn’t look at her or her clique, they would just leave me alone. It was a stupid fantasy, of course, as all it did was put an even larger target on me. Mr. Rawlins drawled on about the reading assignments, but neither Simone nor myself were listening. One of her psycho bitch friends caught Simone’s attention, and made a gagging motion with her hand. Simone guffawed into her hand.

It was not a subtle gesture, and got Mr. Rawlins attention – just as it was designed to do.

“Yes, Simone?” Mr. Rawlins said, sighing. “Something to share with the class?”

“Well, Mr. Rawlins,” Simone said too-sweetly. “You know me, I don’t like to be a snitch.” She looked straight at me, the evil smirk on her face giving me all the warning bahis firmaları I was going to get of the trouble I was in.

This got his attention, and sent the hairs on the hairs on the back of my neck standing on end.

“What is it now, Simone?” Mr. Rawlins said, but I could tell that he actually had more than a sliver of interest and curiosity in what she had to say.

“Well, I think that everyone has the right to their own, private…” she leaned in conspiratorially, and placed her hand to her mouth as if she were whispering a secret into his ear, instead of broadcasting to the whole class, “perversions. But they should at least keep them out of a public school, where there are minors present.” She swept her hand wide to the class at large to illustrate her point. In truth, we were all seniors about to graduate, but don’t let facts get in the way of good showmanship.

“Is there a particular point to this speech, Simone?” Mr. Rawlins asked. “Or do you just like hearing the sound of your own voice?”

The rest of the class laughed. I didn’t, afraid that I would just infuriate her and make her do something more rash than she was already about to do. Simone flushed, and I knew that my caution wasn’t going to help me at all.

“Shannon’s got a porno in her bag,” Simone blurted out. On cue, her minions all gasped in union, raising their hands to their gaping mouths in mock horror. Their choreography was so in sync it would have been humorous, if it weren’t just pure evil.

Why me? I pleaded to myself. Why do they always pick on me?

“We saw her showing it off in the hallway, didn’t we?” Simone looked around to her cohorts, who all nodded emphatically. “It was gross.”

All eyes turned to me. I blushed even harder and looked down at my desk.

Mr. Rawlins sighed, obviously not buying any of Simone’s theatrics. Nevertheless, she had put him in a very unfortunate position. By publicly announcing that I had pornography on campus, she had put him at risk. If he didn’t do anything about it there would be parent calls, maybe even journalists showing up. In this day and age, who knew?

Everyone in the room suddenly started talking excitingly. The boys had never paid much attention to me before – the skinny girl with no tits, why would they? – but suddenly I was feeling very uncomfortable with the looks they were giving me.

“That’s enough, everyone!” Mr. Rawlins snapped, and the fracas quieted down to watch what he would do next.

He came over to my desk, and looked down at me. “Shannon,” he said, frowning. “Let me see your bag.”

I looked up at him, and then reached down and lifted my bag to hand to him. He took a deep breath and closed his eyes, trying to prepare himself for what he would find. He opened up his eyes and the bag, and peered inside. Reaching in, he seemed to find something, and pulled it up far enough to look at it without taking it out of the bag.

“I’ve got to say,” he began, looking at me. I said nothing, and kept a neutral look on my face. “There are a lot of people who would prefer that you not have this in school.”

He turned and lifted the contents of the bag to the room. “But I don’t think this qualifies as ‘pornography’, Miss Tiller,” he said as he thrust my copy of The Catcher in the Rye into the air for everyone to see. “Granted, at one point in time it was banned for being pornographic, but I’m sure I’ve heard the same words come from your mouth once or twice, if I recall correctly.”

“What is that?” one of the boys asked.

“It’s a book, you moron!”

“What’s the battery life?” someone else chimed in.

“Ask Simone!”

The class laughed, but this time it was at Simone, not me. Even Mr. Rawlins couldn’t suppress a small giggle. Simone shot a look at me from across the room, and as hard as I tried I could not prevent the beginnings of a slight smirk touch the corner of my lips. She gripped the edges of her desk with her perfectly manicured nails, seething with rage and hatred.

“Now, let’s get back to the subject at hand,” Mr. Rawlins said, trying to get everybody back on track. “And Simone… see me after class.”

Simone snapped her head towards me again, her fury ratcheting up another notch. I began to wonder how far she could go before her head popped off her shoulders in a fit of steam, like some cartoon.

The rest of the class was torturous. Simone just stared at me the entire time. I couldn’t figure out where to look, and I shuffled uncomfortably in my seat – not least because the sharp edges of the VHS case was digging rudely into my ass.

When I’d entered the room, I fumbled with my books and bag. Being awkward came naturally, so jostling things in and out of my bag wasn’t out of the ordinary for me. I had managed to slip the cassette case onto the seat just as I had sat down when no one was looking, thinking that Simone might try some sort of stunt. I didn’t kaçak iddaa know what she would do, but I was pretty sure it would be something. Even so, if Mr. Rawlins had asked me to come up to his desk to give him the bag, I would have been busted as all hell.

I dodged that bullet, but now I had a bigger problem. Simone’s friends had started seeing what she was doing to me, and had fallen right into their creative mimicry. I spent the entire class withering beneath their coordinated stares, gestures, and thinly veiled threats. I wanted Mr. Rawlins to take notice what they were doing, but as usual he was lost in his own self-important droning.

As the close of the class approached, I felt my anxiety begin to rise. I had no idea what was going to happen after class. Simone was going to have to stay after, but the other girls didn’t. I didn’t have a clue what they were going to do, or try to do. It was the end of the school day, and I began to calculate how to escape from getting caught in one of their traps.

The natives started getting restless, and started making motions to collect their things. I did the same too, trying to time my move correctly. The chaos of class dismissal saved me, though, as a mob of people passed between us on their rush to get the hell out of school after the last period of the day.

In a sleight of hand that would make Houdini proud, I slid off the seat, bringing the porno in line with the opening of my book bag and zipped it up as fast as I could. I tried to blend into the crowd and get the hell out of there, but found myself face to face with Simone and her posse.

She opened her mouth to speak, and who knows what sarcastic bullying bullshit was about to come out, when Mr. Rawlins loud voice stopped her cold. “Simone! I said see me after class. Now!”

Simone gritted her teeth. “This isn’t over, Pocket Rocket,” she hissed. Two of her friends made blowjob gestures while the other two made gagging motions.

I just wanted to get the hell out of there. I didn’t even stop at my locker to get anything else, but rather headed straight for the parking lot. I just wanted to be home and away from school.

Once inside my car, I felt the tears starting to well up. I needed to hold it together long enough to at least get out of the parking lot, but it didn’t look like I was going to be successful about that. I couldn’t understand what it was that Simone had against me. True, she seemed to hate everyone, but why was I such an easy target? I had never done anything to her.

I just wanted to be left alone and make it through the remaining few months until graduation. I couldn’t even seem to “keep my nose clean,” as they say. It was almost as if Simone and her cronies woke up every morning with a list of “Who I should fuck with today.” It seemed that more and more often, my name was at the top of that list.

Chapter 1: Curiosity Killed The…

The next thing I knew, I was home and in my bedroom. I so desperately wanted not to care, to be wonderfully anti-social as Holden Caufield. I don’t know why the character spoke to me so much, or why I identified with him. Our personalities were exact opposites.

I wanted to lose myself, escape from my life, and it seemed like a good idea to spend with Holden. I grabbed my bag and reached for The Catcher in the Rye but instead pulled out the dreaded VHS tape.

This time I did recoil in horror, and dropped the tape onto my bed. My father’s sexiest expression stared back at me from the cover, and the long censorship bar zeroed my focus. I put the bag over the tape in a hurry.

Now, though, alone in my room, without the chaos of school, I wasn’t interested in Holden Caufield any longer. I began to stare at the bag, and through its canvas skin to the tape I knew lay beneath. Despite the circumstances that brought the tape to me, traumatic as they were, this was something that I needed to know about my father.

Years of “every other weekend” and the occasional summer vacation meant that much of my interactions with him had been carefully scripted and measured. Neither him nor my mother spoke about his life very much, especially not about any time before I was born. It was clear that this clue lying on my bed underneath my backpack was a big part of the reason why.

Slowly, and not really sure if I wanted to be doing it, I moved the backpack aside. Once more my father’s lewd pose presented itself. I picked up the case, and started looking at it more closely.

The first thing I was struck by was just how much he hadn’t changed. The man in the photograph was younger, sure, and my father had shown the tests of time like everyone else, but perhaps he fared them better than most. His blond hair was closer to grey, even if it had streaks of the original yellow color, and even though he rarely took off his shirt in my presence I figured he couldn’t have put on that much additional weight. kaçak bahis

Thing is, as I looked at the man on the video cover and tried to compare him to the man I thought I knew, it wasn’t that hard to see them as the same person. They were both mysteries, curiosities. He never revealed much about himself to me, preferring to take the “chaperone” role than a real fatherly figure.

I’ve never really found much of a need to explore his background, and suddenly that felt like a tremendous oversight. On occasion I had wished to know more about him, and here was this opportunity… of sorts.

I picked up the case and turned it over. The pictures on the back were nearly too small to see anything at all, even as I tried to adjust my glasses on my nose to get the best focus. I could tell that there were a lot of people having sex, but I couldn’t tell which one was my father – if he was there at all. The little censorship stars and bars and circles covered up anything of interest.

This was getting frustrating. I couldn’t see anything! I opened the plastic case, but there was nothing inside but the videocassette with a plain white label with the words “Rod Rocket Deep Throat Challenge” written on it, with the caption “Copyright 1992” underneath.

At that moment, I knew I had to watch this tape. I threw the tape down and scrambled off the bed. I immediately went downstairs into the basement where we kept all the useless junk that collected over the years, but didn’t actually throw out. I must have spent a good 45 minutes rooting through that stuff until I found what I was looking for. It took me another ten minutes to get it out of there, but as soon as I did I tucked it under my arm and raced back to my bedroom as if I was Indiana Jones running from a tumbling ball of stone.

I got back to my room and plugged the ancient VCR into the wall, and then my TV. For once I was glad that my mother had a bit of a hoarding mentality. The blinking “12:00” came to life, and I popped the tape into the front mouth of the machine. For a moment I had a panic as a sickening grinding sound came out of the VCR, but soon it stopped and the tape began to start playing smoothly. It was at that moment that I realized just how disappointed I would be if it destroyed the tape.

The first thing that struck me was just how fuzzy everything seemed to be. I didn’t realize just how much I’d gotten used to high definition, and wondered if I’d actually be able to see anything at all on this old tape. Pretty soon, however, the screen seemed to stabilize and the cheesiest music I’d ever heard came through the TV speakers.

The porn clips started coming fast and furious with the names of various porn stars superimposed over quick clips of people fucking and sucking. All of them were women. “An all-star lineup of the most beautiful and talented women of porn!” intoned the female narrator in a sultry voice. “But who is the best cocksucker of them all?”

What followed were a variety of these porn stars taking big dicks in their hands and mouths, even a few bouncing up and down in reverse cowgirl.

“Which one of them,” continued the voiceover, “can take… Rod Rocket!?”

I paused the tape. Standing completely naked, one hand on a thrusted hip, was my father. The monstrous penis between his legs wasn’t censored now, and I couldn’t stop myself from exclaiming, “Holy shit!”

I had seen porn before (of course!). I mean, after all, in this day and age of instant access to any content you can imagine, who hasn’t? But this was soooo different! This wasn’t some porn star, this was someone I knew. This was my father!

He wasn’t even erect.

The video flickered as the tape paused, but the “important bits” remained steady on screen. I reached up to hit the “play” button, and found my fingers shaking.

The screen went black for a second, and I thought it had broke, but then it started to play again. A series of clips of porn stars who must have been famous at one point in time were shown in reaction shots as he revealed himself to them. Without exception, each woman reacted with shock, though their enthusiasm ranged from “No way, I’m out,” to unbridled, enthusiastic lust.

The video cut to a picture of a beautiful blonde woman holding a microphone, walking past a studio set and talking to the camera, with the obviously original-and-not-made-up name “Kandy Stripes” written underneath. She was explaining how we were going to see a competition unlike any other, where they were going to “put to bed” (wink, wink) the question as to who was the best cock sucker of all.

“Eleven girls, eleven-and-a-half inches of hard cock,” Kandy said, her eyes twinkling. “That’s right, we have more cock than girls. But who can take it all?”

She proceeded to explain the rules. Each girl was going to attempt to deep throat “the Rocket” and the woman who succeeded would claim the title of winner. “But don’t worry,” she said with a wink. “All the women will get a chance to ride the Rocket to new heights.”

She stopped in front of a bedroom set, with my father standing in a bathrobe, a stupid grin on his face.

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