stepfather.

Sometimes, my stepfather comes into my room at night.

Ever since my eighteenth birthday, I've been noticing a change in his attitude towards me.  For most of high school, it seemed like my he and mother couldn't get me out of the house fast enough; eagerly looking forward to the time that I would go away to college, but something's changed.  Recently I noticed his lingering gaze or hand on my arm, and he begun to suggest that I go to a local college, or even take a couple years off to think about what I really want to do.  Then, he started this new, weird routine of visiting me in my room late at night.

At first, it started off with my step dad sitting on the edge of the bed, tucking me in for bed.  He would thoughtfully draw the covers up over me, patting the tented fabric down around my body.  Though it was kind of sweet to be finally connecting with my new step father, we both realized the awkwardness of this scene, one night when he asked if I wanted him to read from a book he brought.

"I'm a little too old for that, Daddy," I had taken to calling him, as of late, at his recent suggestion.  

"This book is for grown ups, though," he went on.  "That a girl your age should read."

"Alright.  Well, maybe I can read it on my own," I suggest, not wanting to make him feel silly.  Especially since it seems so important to him.  

"That would be just fine," he replied, handing me the book, entitled, A Guide To Womanhood.  Immediately the title strikes me curious.  Maybe it will reveal some of the questions I have about becoming an adult, that I'm too embarrassed to ask my mom or step dad.  I feel my face blush crimson.  Like questions about sex.  

As soon as my step father leaves the room, I turn on the bedside lamp, and discreetly open the secret book.  And there, plain as day, are drawings of men and women's anatomy, from penises to vaginas.  I enthusiastically read on, the words describing everything from menstruation, masturbation, to intercourse, to pregnancy.  So many questions I have are answered, but it only gives birth to a hundred more.  And, most of all, I still don't know what it all feels like.  I sleepily look up at the clock, and hours have passed since I first laid my gaze on the tawdry pages.  I rub my eyes, and shut off the light, thinking I see something scurry outside my bedroom door. 

The next night, my step father tucks me in before bed, as per our newfound routine.  "Now, did you take a look at the book I gave you?"

"Yes, Daddy," I answer, feeling myself blush, at the thought of the sacred book's content.

"And, did you have any questions about anything?"  Oh, gosh.  A hundred.  But, I nervously bite my lip.

"I don't know."

"No?"

"I can't remember any."

"I see.  But, I'm sure you were curious about the things you read."  I nod.  A pregnant pause.  "Well, if you think of any, Daddy's here," he says softly, patting my leg, only the thin sheet between our touch.  Again, I notice him lingering, his warm, large hand emanating heat, even through the thin material.  I feel his eyes on me, but I avert mine, nervously.  After a moment, he takes the cue, and stands to leave.  I have an urge to call him back; to tell him that I do have questions, that I didn't mean to hurt his feelings, but I hear the door click shut behind him.  I click the lights off, adjust to lie on my side, and I notice something.  I'm a little wet in between my legs.  I take a tissue and wipe myself, thinking that I might have gotten my period suddenly, but the tissue remains white as snow.  Also, I notice a very pleasant sensation as I do so.  Remembering what I've learned from the book, I realize that I must be in a state of arousal.  Maybe this is what it means to be a woman, I think, as I suddenly notice parts of my body that I haven't paid much attention to in the past.  

He doesn't visit me for two nights; by then I finish the book, and go back and read it all over again.  I'm tucked in bed, the book beside me, wondering if I scared him off, when I hear the door softly click open.  I can't help but smile, I'm so relieved.  

"Hi sweetheart.  Thought I'd stop in to say goodnight."  I make room in the bed, and he joins me, this time resting his legs up on the bed, as well.  I feel the heat of his body against me, and I kick the sheets off of me, so that we are right next to each other.  My thigh touches his; both of us ready for bedtime in our t-shirts and underwear.  I feel a tingle between my legs, not able to keep the pictures and diagrams from the book out of my head.  For some reason, I think of the picture of a man's erect penis, and my eyes dart to his boxers, wondering now about my step father's.  "What have you been up to?"

"I've been... reading," I offer, feeling the familiar sensation of a blushing face.

"The book I gave you?"

"Yes," I admit.  He laughs, jovially.

"Yes, I was quite interested in things like that when I was your age!"

"You were?"

"Oh, yes.  I masturbated daily.  Sometimes, more than once a day."  My jaw drops in shock, recalling the explicit description of male masturbation in the book.  But, it's accompanied but a sensation of relief.  That it's okay to talk about.  That it's normal.  That it's a part of growing up.

"Lately, I thought about..."  I trail off, despite the burst of confidence, getting suddenly shy.

"Thought about what?"  

"I don't know.  Stuff from the book."

"Well, that's good, sweetheart.  You're around that age.  Is there anything you wanted to ask me?  You know I'm here to help."  I think about the last time he asked me that question, and how I couldn't make myself answer.  Well, two days older and two read-throughs wiser, I swallow, and pipe up.

"I want to know... about sex."

"Yes?"

"I mean... I read about it.  But, I want to know what it's like."

"Yes, it doesn't really do it justice on paper," he laughs, but I feel more serious about the subject.

"Like... how does it feel?"

"It feels... well, it's hard to describe.  It's different for everyone, I suppose."  He gestures with a hand, and it lands on my bare thigh.  The heaviness of his hand is so distracting, that I don't hear anything else.  I see my nipples harden through my t-shirt, and cross my arms to cover them.  I remember what I read in the book about female arousal, and recognize the symptoms in myself, for the first time, right now.  Flushed face, genitals engorged, sensitive skin.  The desire to be touched.  

I picture the hand on my thigh moving slightly between my legs, but I can't even fathom what that would feel like.  I long to grab his hand, and force it there, but my extreme uncertainly about this new thing called sex stops me.  But it's normal, I hear him say in my mind.  And he wants me to be open with him about it.  If there's anyone I should do things like that with, it's him.  Right?  I wish I could ask.  

Before I know it, he's patted me on the head, said goodnight, and is almost out the door.  "Wait," I hear myself say.

"Yes, sweetheart?" He says, approaching the bed.   

"Could I have a goodnight kiss?"  There's an expression on his face that I can't exactly read; like there's something going on inside him that I can't see.  Or maybe, it's something on the outside, but still hidden from view.  He slowly sits on the edge of the bed again, and my heart beats so heavily, that he must be able to hear it.  My mouth is slightly open, as if already taking him in, and I tilt my head back, anticipating.  He leans down to me, unsure of where to kiss me, but I show him pretty quickly where I want it.  Something comes over me, and my hand creeps up to his neck, directing his head closer, and his lips to mine.  

His lips are tight at first, but I relax mine, opening my mouth a little, like I've seen girls do in movies.  He immediately follows suit, and I feel his warm tongue enter my mouth.  The intensity of having someone's tongue inside me, makes me very wet between the legs.  I can tell even without touching, because I feel the muscles coming alive down there, almost like they are contracting, wanting to reach out or take something in.  My entire body feels different, in fact; I suddenly feel parts of me energize, like my nipples, my neck, my skin, my... pussy.  I feel like this body isn't mine.  It's his.

He slowly lays down with me, kind of beside me and on top of me at the same time, and I feel his weight against my side.  I feel his stubble against my face as we kiss, and I feel his large leg drift around mine.  I feel something else, too.  I feel the hard thing between his legs that I now know to be his erection.  I picture the diagram from the pages, the one with the plump head, thick shaft, and bulging veins; and I think I can imagine how it would feel inside me now, as my hips naturally tilt forward, pussy engorged and wanting it.  His large hands grab my unbound breasts through my t-shirt, and I feel the tingly tightening again between my legs.  I let my jaw relax into his, and his tongue explores my mouth, then drifts down my neck.  I hear myself utter a small sound, but Daddy's hand goes to my lips, silencing me.  He could do just this all night, as far as I'm concerned, and I altogether realize what those bruise marks were on the girls' necks at school.  I can't believe I never knew about this until now.  All those years spent wastefully concentrating on other marks; the ones on paper.  

He skips my clothed breasts, instead moving his mouth to my bare stomach, where he discreetly lifts the t-shirt.  He also peels down my underwear a little bit, and I feel my pussy produce that mysterious clear substance in anticipation of... I don't even know what.  He wetly kisses my hips, and I feel equally as wet between my legs.  Then, he does something surprising.  He pulls my underwear right down, exposing my naked lower half, which is just as embarrassing as it is arousing.  Even more alarmingly, he puts his mouth on me.  But, not as delicately as it sounds.  He sloppily licks and sucks at my glistening folds, making a wet mess of himself, and the bed.  I feel such an intense pressure on my genitals, that it's almost like when I have to pee.  But, before long, I stop caring about anything else.  I stop thinking about how embarrassingly wet I am, how I must taste and smell, and keep telling myself that it's all normal.  But, how could this be normal?  Are all real women getting their dripping wet pussies practically devoured by men?  It's hard to fathom.  But, if it's true, then I'm glad to enter into womanhood. But, how awkward that we are all bound by this dirty, sloppy secret called sex.

As if that isn't enough, he removes his own underwear, finally revealing the thing.  Thicker and longer than I expected, it bows under its own weight, slightly to one side.  The tips leaks out a droplet of clear liquid, similar to my own, but he doesn't seem shameful of it at all.  Maybe I will learn not to be, as well.  I have so much to learn.  He lay on top of me, though holding his weight on his elbows, and I feel his erection touch my sensitive pussy.  We kiss again and I welcome his mouth into me, but his penis doesn't go in quite yet.  In fact, it feels like he can't find my opening, as it fumbles around my wetness for a while.  I thrust forward, trying to angle myself appropriately, but it continues to slide over my lubricated folds.  He almost drives me crazy with the anticipation, until I realize that that's the whole point of this particular dance.  He knows exactly what he's doing; of course he does, and as soon as I realize it, he slips in.  

"Thatta girl," he utters, lifting himself onto his hands now, but I wish we continued to kiss, as a distraction.  I wish he was back on top of me; I liked that, liked the closeness. I suddenly feel tense and tight, and self conscious of him looking down at me.  As opposed to before, where I could feel everything, now I can't seem to feel much at all.  "Good girl," he says again.  "You're taking that really good for your first time."

"Yeah?"  I ask, encouraged by the compliment.  He knows it's my first time.  He'll take care of me.

"Yeah.  You're really good at taking Daddy's cock."  

"Yeah?"

"Yeah, sweetheart.  You're Daddy's good little girl, aren't you?"  He seems to be enjoying it, and begins to give me more, a little faster, like something's come over him.  His face contorts, and small grunts make their way past his prickly lips.  He thrusts fast and short, then almost seems to move in slow motion, as he pulls his cock out of me, cries out as if in pain, and squirts into my stomach.  It's unlike the clear liquid from before, and has a salty smell.  This sex thing sure is messy.  I almost want to laugh at its absurdity.  

"Was that good?" I ask, still looking for answers about how sex feels, because I'm not sure I did it right. 

"Great, sweetheart," he responds dreamily, kissing me on the forehead, and grabbing a tissue.  "I think you enjoyed it, too.  Didn't you?"  I nod.  I've gone silent again.  "Now, don't tell your mother, do you understand?"

"Yes, Daddy."

"If you keep it a secret, then Daddy will show you how to have an orgasm, just like he did," he says while wiping my belly clean. "Well, similar to that.  Girls are different."

"Alright, Daddy."  

"Alright, dear.  Goodnight."  He kisses me again on the hair, then steps back into his shorts, and softly shuts the door behind him.  I take a tissue and quickly blot between my legs, revealing a small spot of blood.  I know from the book, that my hymen broke.  But, it's normal.  

It's all part of becoming a woman.