Mmmm....almost a dead ringer of the last somewhat virginal 18 year old I managed to bed about nine years ago. She was a high school senior I was working with at a T-Mobile store while I was slumming for a job after grad school. Man, national honor society students are a layup for a 27 year old with a great (on paper) education and no ambition so they can take the time to work on them at a shitty job instead of stocking shelves or whatever I was hired to do there. She told me a story over mediocre Chinese food at some strip mall place near our work about her sister having recently gone thru repression therapy to discover the father had molested her as a child, and now the estranged sis had showed up to the house overnight the week prior and spraypainted "Rapist" on dad's car and "Enabler" on Mom's like out of the movie "Happiness". Anyway, the big reveal by my girl was she always thought daddy had touched her too. God, her pussy felt so good in the car about an hour later. It was even better a week and a half after that when we fucked on her bed. I couldn't help but think as I focused on the powder blue frilly sheets, matching pillowcase and stuffed animals propped on the headboard staring back at me while I buried my face into the nape of her neck and humped her ass if this was the crime scene and had said toys bore witness to father's taboo years earlier. I wondered as she let out little gulping gasps for breath in between my thrusts if she was still thinking about those buried secrets of a large shadow slipping into her room in the dark in the dead of night. Or if maybe she was hoping daddy would come home at that very moment and bust through the door at the sounds of his daughter's slow rise to orgasm and my thighs and balls slapping her hindquarters to see that someone else had taken his property and she was no longer his. As I closed my eyes tight and blew my load, I imagined her defiantly looking back at him over our collective shoulder, silently mouthing the words "Fuck you, daddy". I did feel guilty and dirty as hell as soon as I came, because hey, I still had a conscience then.

Anyway, thanks for the memories, which is really what Christmas is all about.