Amor Prohibetur Ch. 21

Tessa And Her Big Butt

Sometimes... You know, things get out of hand. You don't mean for things to go so far, and you're taking chances that you shouldn't be taking, because it's risky and you're getting away with something that nobody else even thinks about. I guess it was the rush of adrenaline that got me started, and I was hooked on that rush later. I just... You know, I kept pushing things along, when I should have stopped and tapped my hands together for a Time Out. I took too many chances, and now I'm in the spot I am.

I don't know if I regret it. If I had to do it all over again, I'd probably still do things the same way. Most of it, anyway. A lot of it would have probably happened the same way no matter what I'd done. It was the adrenaline and the excitement, and the... Oh, wow. I can feel my body getting hot just thinking about it. It was fun, too. It was always fun with my dad.

I guess I should tell you a little bit about me. At the time this took place, I was nineteen. I mean, don't get me wrong, because this didn't happen all that long ago. It was just, you know, just a few years ago. Before I got married. Maybe I got married so I could create some distance between my dad and me, but... Wow. This 'eyewitness account' is coming out all messed up, isn't it?

I don't want to start this over, because I've tried to write this down a couple of times already, and then I erase it when I get stuck and if I keep doing that I won't ever get it all down.

Okay, what I'm going to do is get up and go have myself a cup of tea. I know, I know, you're going to say that young people like me should drink coffee at the trendy cafes. I'm not the trendy type, okay? I'm sure you will figure this out as I go along. Trendy is not me! I like my Earl Gray and my Black Tea and my Chamomile...

Off topic! I'm rambling now. I think it would be best if I went and had my tea.

Okay, I'm back. I have my cup of Chamomile sitting next to me. I'm not drinking it yet because it's still hot. The little packet came in a pink envelope, and the box is mostly yellow with a little bit of green on it. As you can see, I can jot down details now, and I'm much more composed than I was earlier.

My name is Contessa. I know it is a weird medieval-sounding name, but that's what my parents gave me. My mother's name is Fiona, which is also weird in my opinion, but you can see how this sort of thing runs in the family. When I was a girl, I went by Tassie, but now that I'm older I go by Tessa.

At the time this was going on I was nineteen and living in... Maybe I shouldn't mention exactly where, just in case this sordid tale runs amok. Let's just say it was in the Pacific Northwest, and not in the big cities that first come to mind. The houses around here have huge yards compared to city houses, and our nearest neighbors are a couple of hundred feet away. The back of our house is a forest, which is pretty cool. I spent a lot of time running around in the woods with my friends, and I still go out there a lot just to enjoy nature. I love doing that.

This Chamomile is pretty good, by the way. I put a lot of milk and only a little sugar in it. That's the way I like it. I could drink this all day!

So... I was nineteen back then. My average-height father managed to nab my mother, who is a couple of inches taller than he is. Oh, wait. I forgot to mention my dad's name. His name is Leonard (Yuck!), but most people call him Lenny. I just call him Dad. I got most of my height from my mother, so that I ended up as tall as my dad. I remember how when I grew the same height as he was, he'd make jealous or resentful faces at me. Dad was just kidding around, and I ended up laughing all over the place.

So... I stand at five foot eight. I have B cups and forty-inch hips. Yes, yes, you read the title of my story. It was my hips that got me in a lot of trouble!

My dad is an introvert. He's usually quiet, even around people he knows and hangs out with. My Dad and I can just sit in the same room with each other and not say a thing all day, because we are that comfortable just being in each other's presence. My mother, on the other hand, is an extrovert. She does all the talking when we go out, and she waves her arms around like a sorceress so that people's eyes end up following her hands as if they're about to fly off into outer space or something. As far as their bodies go, my dad is stocky and usually has a trimmed beard. (He always reminds me of a big teddy bear when my mom hugs him.) My mom has long arms and legs, and she has her nice curves. I'm jealous because Mom can eat anything she wants and not gain any weight, while I can munch on one cupcake and immediately it goes to my caboose. You don't know how hard it is to find pants for me! Basically, when I'm around my Dad I'm quiet, but when I'm around Mom I can be a chatterbox just like her.

That's the setting, and here is the story:

The grocery store is half an hour away. My Dad works escort bayan bursa for a diesel mechanic shop, and usually he has a steady shift with normal nine to five hours. My Mom works as a hostess at a casino. Her shift jumps around a lot, but mostly she works in the evenings and late into the night. The result is that Dad usually goes grocery shopping instead of Mom, because of the long drive and the sunlight and everything. Mom thinks she's a vampire who can't leave the house!

My Mom has a part-time hobby so she can make a little extra income on the side. She creates necklaces and bracelets out of colored glass beads and little pieces of wood or whatever. Sometimes I help her make jewelry. When we have enough, we take our pieces to a souvenir shop in town and later make a percentage of whatever gets sold. It wasn't a whole lot of money, okay?

Dad and I had just gone out shopping that day, while Mom was at work. We stopped off at the post office, since we don't have mail couriers like they do in the big cities. Mom had ordered a big box of beads and trinkets to make more jewelry with. Like a dumb ass, I opened up the box just as we were getting home, and right when Dad's SUV hit a stupid pothole. Well, you can guess what happened. Half the shit in the box jumped out and all over the floorboard.

"Pinchay cabronay!" I yelled out. Yeah, Mom and I cussed a lot. We cussed so much we even cussed in other languages. If we cussed in English, Dad would make us put a dollar into a jar for every cuss word he heard us say. So we filled up jars pretty quick and shifted over to using foreign vernacular. At this point in time, Mom and I were using a combo of Pig Latin and Spanish to vent our many, many frustrations.

Dad was laughing up a storm as he parked his SUV in front of our house. "You take care of that while I get the groceries out."

"Gee, thanks, Dad." I huffed. "There are only like a million little pieces I have to pick up!"

"Too bad for you." He said.

"Ee-ho day putah." I grumbled, as I started snatching up any beads and shit I could see. I was just throwing them back into the box, even though I knew I'd have to sort it later before Mom got home, or else I'd have to deal with her shit, too.

I managed to get all the pieces from the front seat area, but wouldn't you know it, a bunch of other tiny pieces had bounced under the seats and all the way to the back seat floorboard. So there I go, leaning through the back door to scoop up more pieces. That's where all of the groceries were. My dad got some of them out, clearing up enough room for me to lean on the seat, while I reached down to grab more pieces and kept a firm hold on the box so it wouldn't tip over again. Then I had to actually climb on the seat to reach out even farther away.

Well, Dad came back for more groceries. I didn't see him come back, and because he's a quiet guy, he did not say 'Hey, Tessa, get your fat ass out of the way so I can grab more groceries.' Instead of pulling stuff out of the other back door, my Dad absently went to the open door I was in. I don't know how long he stood there. Maybe it was just a few seconds, or maybe it was a couple of minutes. I was in there bent over with my ass in the air, and my head and one arm between the front and back seats grabbing runaway beads.

I guess I felt his stare or his presence behind me. When I looked over my shoulder, I could see Dad standing there, only a couple of feet from my backside. He was transfixed. I had to look that word up, okay, so I could describe that look. He was mesmerized while he was back there looking at me. He even had his mouth open. I'm surprised that drool wasn't hanging out!

"Dad, you need to go around the car to the other door." I told him.

Even then, it took Dad a couple of seconds to shake out of it. He said 'Right' before he nodded and made his way around. I paused my hunt for refugee beads, just to watch Dad for a moment. He took another two arms full of stuff and headed for the front door.

That was pretty odd, I thought. For that short time, Dad looked like a witch had cast a spell to freeze him in place. And what was he staring at? It took me a good minute to understand that my Dad had been gawking at my behind. My Dad checked out my ass! It clicked then, as I had seen that same look on horny guys before. Guys would stare at my friends and I when we were in town. They'd look at our tits or our butts, and their short looks would stretch out and become longer gazes and outright stares. My friends and I joked about that. We even asked some of our boyfriends what they were thinking when they stared at girls like that. The boys said they'd imagined our bodies nude, or they would visualize having sex with us.

No way, I thought. Dad would never look at me like that, would he? Impossible! I say again, impossible! Then again, there weren't that many good-looking women in town, and I had seen Dad checking out my girlfriends bursa sinirsiz eskort before. Still: No Way!

If Mom had been there, I would have cracked a joke to get rid of this weird feeling I had that Dad had ogled me like a pervert. Because Mom was out of the picture, I stayed quiet and kept picking up my beads, while Dad made a couple more trips for the rest of our purchases.

"Cool-oh gran-day." I said, after dad went inside and I was still out there picking up all those stinking beads. In case you didn't know, that means Big Ass in Spanish.

I feel like I have to interject something here, in my dad's defense. I don't want you to think he was some kind of big scoundrel or womanizer or something. He did look at other women occasionally, because I would catch him doing that. I already told you he was an introvert, so I doubt he would ever cheat on Mom, even if some woman came up to him and started rubbing her tits in his face. I swear to you that my Dad would be totally repulsed by any woman who did that. He's more like one of those guys who takes tiny steps to get anything accomplished. A seductress would have to rub her tits on him fifty times before he would work up the nerve to touch her, but more than likely he'd run away and tell Mom about it the first chance he got. Oh, and Dad and Mom weren't fighting or not getting along or anything. You could say that what happened between us was 33% him and 66% me.

And as for my side, well, I can't really explain that either. I had my little social clique that I hung out with, that included a bunch of guys and a bunch of girls. It was kind of a thing for us to have boyfriends and girlfriends for a couple months, and then break up and choose somebody new, or just to mess around with whomever we felt like at a house party or bonfire. I wasn't exactly lacking in company, is what I'm trying to say. It's more like, you know, things fell into place between Dad and me, pun intended.

That night after I caught Dad staring at my ass, I had a seriously sexy dream about him. I don't remember all of it today, but I do remember the part where he was taking me from behind like a guy on a jackhammer. It was one of those hot and sweaty dreams that made me want to take off my jammies and touch myself all over. I felt my lady parts and saw that I'd gushed out during my dream, but I hadn't exactly gotten fulfilled, if you know what I mean. I have this blue hairbrush with a rounded handle that gets thick in the middle, and I used that to finish myself off.

I guess after sleeping with a handful of guys and one girl, a lot of the novelty of having sex had worn off. Thinking about Dad made the idea fresh again. I didn't plan on doing anything with him, I swear! There were times when I saw some handsome guy on the street, and later I'd use my brush to pretend that guy was sneaking into my room. That's how it was when I imagined Dad that night. It was like a quickie fantasy fling, no strings attached and nothing else.

I had no idea of how far things would go later. Things just kind of took their own course.

My friends invited me out to the River on a Friday night. It would take us a couple of hours to drive there, and they weren't planning on coming back until late on Sunday. I had a long talk with one of my girlfriends, over who I might end up messing around with if I went. It came down to two choices: Tom, whom I'd already slept with and found boring, and Jack, who I hadn't slept with, but who was even more boring than Tom. I don't know if you want to call me an intellectual or anything, but the last thing I want to talk about is high school football and what the guys were doing to spice up their trucks. Because I could be a goof, I told my girlfriend to tell everyone else that I had a rash on my pussy that made me smell like old tuna. I told her my pussy was turning green.

"Ay, caramba!" I told her, but that wasn't technically a cuss word, so I didn't have to worry about putting a dollar into the stupid Cuss Jar.

To make matters... Well, more interesting, Mom's bosses at work had been such good sports that they scheduled her for work on each of those nights. That meant Dad and I would be hanging out at the house all by our selves. I swear, I didn't plan any of this!

I got bored, of course. My friends were texting me non-stop to tell me how much fun they were having. I believed it, because none of the girls would be getting stuck with Jack or Tom like I would have, if I had gone along with them. When I say getting stuck, pun is intended, obviously.

Jack said he wanted to see if my pussy was really turning green, so I walked into the kitchen to find something green to smear on it. Alas, we were all out of guacamole! The chunky kind would have worked pretty good, in my humble opinion. I thought about using mustard or relish, but that made me think of eating a hot dog, and I already told you how fattening food always escort bayan migrates its way to my backside. So I gave up trying to keep the joke going and walked back to my room.

As I passed by the living room, I observed with my keen, wisdom of Diana eyes that Dad was watching an old fifties black and white horror movie. Yes, my Dad is that retro! The movie was ultra-cheesy and had aliens that looked like regular men trying to catch human women to take back to their planet. That movie was so cheesy that barely after thirty seconds I couldn't stand it, but that's what Dad liked watching, so who am I to judge, right?

When I got to my bedroom, I thought that Dad's eyes were gravitated on the TV screen, and my mind associated that intense sort of gravitation to the way Dad had stared at my ass that day when I dropped the beads. Then, because my mind works this way, I got to wondering the great philosophical question: If given a choice between the two, would Dad keep watching his black and white movie, or would he fix his x-ray vision on my butt if I stood in front of him and shook it. Because I tend to think in scientific terms, I thought of what I might need to test out this white paper hypothesis. Tight shorts would be a good start, and maybe a timely commercial break.

I have a pair of yellow shorts so tight I need a shoehorn to get into them. They make my ass look like an elephant's, seriously. Those would be perfect! After struggling for ten minutes to get inside them, I strutted back into the living room. My plan almost backfired because the movie was still on, with no timely commercial break in sight to give me the advantage. Rats! Because I believe so much in science, I decided to push forward with my experiment anyway.

"Dad, do these shorts make my butt look fat?" I pseudo-innocently asked. "I need to know!"

There I stood, my body turned away from my Dad, with my head cocked to look over my shoulder and my hands on my hips like an extra curvy Superwoman.

I couldn't tell you exactly what went through my dad's mind, but I did see his face turning red.

"I'm watching a movie." He said.

"No, you're not. You're watching me. Answer the question!"

"Those shorts are way too tight. Why do you even have them? Throw them out!"

"They have sentimental value." I told him. I don't know why I was egging him on so much. Maybe it was because I knew how introverted he was. If I wiggled my ass, Dad would probably run into his bedroom and barricade the door. "Well?"

"You would look better if you wore shorts that fit you correctly."

"Is that a yes or a no?"

"Yes. They make your behind look fat."

"Are you saying I'm fat?"

"I'm saying those specific shorts make your behind look fat. Normal shorts would make your behind look normal. Go put on the shorts you were wearing before!"

I shifted over just a little bit, so I could pretend I was watching that dumb movie. At the same time, my eagle-talon eyes were observing Dad. He was clearly uncomfortable with me standing there. His eyes kept going back and forth between the TV and my skin-tights. Those were lab results I could write a paper on!

It was starting to dawn on me just how mercilessly I was teasing my Dad. I can't really explain why I did this, except for when I performed similar taunts when I was in high school. My friends and I would sometimes dare each other to tease the nerdy students or even our teachers on occasion. I remember a few times when I deliberately wore a short skirt and no panties while I sat in class. We did what we called the Basic Instinct maneuver back then. That's when you uncross your legs, exposing your beaver, and re-cross your legs in the opposite direction. Yup, that one move got me a B in chemistry!

I already told you how daring it felt to do something like that to my Dad. When I got back to my room, I got a hold of my hairbrush, because I had to!

Stop, Tessa, stop! You mustn't do this! That's what my little angel conscience was telling me. The little devil side of me was conspiring; what else can we do to get a rise out of Daddy-kins, pun intended. It was a thrill, I guess. Since I figured it would take something like fifty times before Dad got the courage to do anything, I thought I still had forty-nine more times to go. Besides, it was more fun to tease Dad than it would have been to very boringly sit next to Jack and Tom at the River.

Saturday night crept up on us, with Dad peacefully sitting in the living room again and watching a black and white monster movie this time. It featured a guy in very ugly and very implausible octopus suit that was, once again, kidnapping women to take back to its lair. Muhahaha! Did every single old movie have the same plot or what?

I plopped down on the couch next to the man of the house. "Dad, will you look at these pictures? My friends have been sending them to me all day!"

I had like a zillion pictures by then, of my so-called friends mercilessly taunting me with pictures of them on a boat surrounded by a hundred other crowded boats. Everybody was in the act of guzzling down kegs of beer and wearing skimpy beach clothes.

"I'm so jealous!" I affirmed, quite dramatically for the effect.

"Why didn't you go with them?" Dad asked.