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More Stories - Satin Slippers
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Synopsis: When cheerleader Janie is attacked by her date, ex-stepfather Dell
is there to save her. But who will save Dell and Janie from each other?
Janie & Dell
By Doxy Wringer ©
Click the play button to listen to an audio excerpt
Author's Note: This story may not be duplicated or re-posted on another
website or in any medium without the written consent of the author.
It is a work of fiction, and intended as a pleasure derived from the
viewpoints of both the most tender and the most carnal hungers
that swell within the human animal.
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At first, I hated Dell when he married mom.
Of course, I had only been 10 years old at the time, and still thought of my mother as the queen of the world. I was completely certain that my parents would get back together and Dell, well, Dell was just standing in the way of my happiness.
By the time I was fifteen, it was obvious, even to me, that mom was no queen. Her drinking had escalated to a point where she was embarrassing in public and she slept around so blatantly that even an easy-going guy like Dell finally surrendered. After their divorce, I had lost all my little girl notions, and I'd thought I'd lost two fathers as well.
But Dell continued to come by to visit. He was handsome for a forty-something, with a thick body. He'd been into diving in college, so he had great thighs and that sexy lean-muscled torso that looks incredible on any man secure enough to wear a turtleneck. He still wore his dark brown hair long, but kept it neatly pulled back. It had begun to gray, like the thin mustache that framed his sensual lips, but it managed only to make him appear more peaceful than old. Maybe it was those John Lennon specs that made him seem so quiet and understanding. All I know is that he became a shelter from the storms of my teenage years. He was my rock, with broad shoulders that I often borrowed to cry on.
When I turned sixteen, mom began to disappear for long periods of time. I'd wake up one day to find her gone, and usually she'd stumble home looking like a lost weekend - toasted out of her mind and occasionally with company. Dell's couch became a second home, and his old, restored mustang became my personal shuttle service. He was so calm, so selfless in his devotion to me. All I could keep thinking was that I wished there were some way to repay his patience and diligence. After all, I was only a stepdaughter, and an ex stepdaughter at that.
In my senior year, I finally figured out a way to repay him…or maybe I should say we found a way to repay each other.
Only by Dell's constant nagging had I managed to keep my grades up enough to stay on the cheerleading squad. It was the only time I felt part of something. It got me into the "in" crowd enough so that I had some semblance of a social life. And while I'd engaged in quite a bit of heavy petting, I'd never really gotten the nerve to lose my virginity.
The biggest mistake I made was agreeing to go out with Bobby Keller. He was a drop-dead gorgeous running back, pretty much the star of our football team. But he was also an arrogant jerk who was used to the girls he dated giving him anything he wanted…and taking it from those who put up any kind of a fight.
After a game one weekend, I agreed to go out for a hamburger with Bobby and he drove me home. It seemed harmless enough, but when we pulled up, it was obvious mom was gone again. There weren't any lights on in the house and I felt immediately uncomfortable when Bobby's eyes lit up.
I tried to end the evening with a goodnight kiss at the front door, but Bobby just pushed his way inside under the pretense that he had to, as he so eloquently phrased it, "drain the lizard."
It wasn't long before I found myself pressed against the wall of the living room, being mauled and molested by the "surest hands" of my high school football team. I don't know if it was his lack of finesse, or my panic over his reputation that left me cold, but the more he touched me, the less hot I got…until I was pretty much fighting him entirely.
But the more I struggled, the more turned on he grew, and the short skirt of my cheerleading outfit did nothing to disguise the feel of him getting harder and bigger.
I was utterly unprepared when Bobby hauled back and slapped me across the face. I wasn't experienced enough to be angry, and only terror came to my mind at the time. Bobby grabbed my wrists hard in one of his huge hands and pinned me back. With his other hand, he reached down to undo the fly of his 501s.
"Listen, Ice Princess. I know your reputation for being a frigid bitch, but I think we're going to thaw you out quite a bit tonight." He grunted, and I winced as his fingers bit into my wrists. "First you're going to get on your knees and suck my cock. After that, we're going to pop that cherry of yours, and if you give me any trouble, I'm gonna make it very hard for you to stand up tomorrow. Do we understand one another?"
Numb, stupid fear knifed up my spine, and I would probably have subjected to his every command had he not been ripped off me that moment.
My knees gave out, and I sank to the floor, but I still had a clear view of Dell as he shoved Bobby against the wall and began to speak in a low, threatening voice. Dell had always been so calm, with an easy humor, but he was as close to pure rage as I think I've ever seen another human being. My head was buzzing and blurry, so I couldn't hear what was being said, but Dell appeared ready to kill, and whatever he was saying to Bobby was turning my would-be date rapist into a quivering mass of jelly.
I had known Dell was a black belt, but he didn't use any ancient Chinese secret techniques on Bobby. Dell just reached down and delivered a vicious punch to his flaccid boy's cock, and dragged the now weeping star running back out onto the lawn. I think I heard Dell mutter something about giving Bobby exactly two minutes to get to his car before he got a butcher knife and carved up his dick like a jack-o-lantern, but I can't be sure. Whatever he said, Bobby crawled like a dying man to his pick up truck and peeled out of my driveway.
The next thing I knew, Dell was kneeling beside me. The monster of fury had been replaced with the Dell I knew and adored - gentle, concerned eyes, soft, comforting hands. He ran his fingers though my disheveled auburn hair and placed a kiss on my forehead. After that, he gathered me into his arms and rocked me, cooing soft words.
It didn't take long for the shock of the entire episode to wear of. Somehow, I think I'd expected Dell to walk in and save me, the same way he always seemed to. As I sat there on the floor, cocooned by his surrounding warmth, I felt so safe, so grateful for him. He held me on his lap for nearly an hour and then finally, he pulled back to gaze down and check on me. I managed a weak smile.
"More hugging?" he offered as he tickled his fingers beneath my chin.
"No. I'm okay, really," I assured him, pushing a few lose strands of hair behind my ear. I'd put my long hair up in a ponytail before the game, but Bobby's attack had freed several locks.
"Come on, I'll make you a milkshake," Dell smiled, standing slowly and helping me to my feet.
"You always talk like Mr. Brady. Attempted rape? How about a cookie?" Pouting, I added, "I don't want a milkshake, they're too fattening."
He rolled his eyes. "You love my banana milkshakes, and the last thing a girl with your figure needs to be fretting about is a few extra calories."
A part of me swelled inside whenever he complemented me. Maybe it was because I so rarely had anyone to give me kind words, or maybe because he always seemed so damn sincere. Either way, I loved hearing whatever accolades he had to offer.
"A girl with my figure?"
He was onto me in an instant, but the amused look he shot me didn't seem too irritated. "Come on, honey girl, you don't need to me stand here and tell you how beautiful you are. I just had to pull that hormone-pumped animal off you because you're too delicious for a stupid kid like him to bear."
I blushed deep, but somehow couldn't look away. I suppose it should have upset me, hearing him refer to Bobby's attack in such a way, but it exhilarating instead. "honey girl" had been an endearment he'd always used…but he'd never said I was delicious before. Pretty, yes, even beautiful. But those were bland words - careful words - fatherly words. Delicious was different, somehow exciting and sexual.
"Okay…maybe a small milkshake," I ginned shyly.
He gave me a warm smile and put his arm around me as we walked to the kitchen. Suddenly, cuddled and tucked against his strength, I was more aware of him than I'd ever been before. His presence beside me was electrifyingly new, yet so comfortable and familiar. He had a clean, musky scent - some kind of spicy, masculine cologne. I pressed against his side a little more firmly, and felt the muscles in his arm and chest flex and tighten ever so slightly. A subtle response, barely a reaction at all, but to me that soft tremor was like an earthquake.
We got to the kitchen and Dell raided the cupboards for the ingredients to his milkshake recipe. He'd been right, I had loved his banana milkshakes since I was just a pouting little brat, and I always made sure I had the necessary items in stock. It was one of the advantages of having to do all the grocery shopping.
"Are you trying to keep underfoot?" he teased and I just shrugged in response. It was a little childish to copy his every footstep, but somehow I didn't want to be away from him. Without another word, Dell put his hands around my slim waist and lifted me up until I was sitting on the counter beside the blender.
Gasping and then giggling, I settled myself onto the counter and self-consciously tugged my skirt down a little. It was short, very short, and I hadn't worn any nylons, so my lacy white thong panties were clearly visible. Dell's eyes strayed to my upper thighs, and I swear I could feel his look like a burning touch. Biting on my bottom lip, I closed my legs quickly. My blush was as obvious as a stroke of red paint on a white canvass.
Placing his hands on either side of me on the counter, Dell leaned forward and kissed my forehead again. "Honey girl, is there anything you want to talk about? You've had quite a scare tonight, and I can see you're embarrassed and fidgety."
"Bobby called me an Ice Princess," I whispered softly.
"Bobby? Was that the walking gland's name? Well, honey girl, Bobby's an idiot. I can't believe he could use that many syllables at one time." Dell tried to lighten my mood, but all I could manage was an awkward smile.
"All the other girls say they've gone so much further than me. Do you think I'm frigid?"
"Jesus wept," Dell sighed heavily. "You're not frigid, honey girl. You're just young, and maybe a little afraid. God knows with your mom as an example, it's enough to terrify any young girl." He paused a moment, seeming to consider whether or not he should ask his next question, and there was a slight rasp in his voice when he inquired, "How far have you gone?"
I shrugged in response, and must have blushed nine different shades of red over the next thirty seconds of silence.
"Are you still a virgin?" he asked, and I could notice a difference in the way he was breathing. Even more shocking, there was a difference in the way I was breathing.
"Yes," I nodded closing my eyes and lowering my face.
"Don't be embarrassed," he comforted me gently, his hands rubbed my arms and massaged my shoulders. "We don't have to talk about this, but a girl as goddamn beautiful as you shouldn't be so self-conscious. You're sexy, and you're going to get sexier as you get a little older. Boys are always going to chase after you. You have to be ready for them."
"I never feel anything," I confessed, ashamed.
"You probably haven't done enough to feel anything, sweetheart."
I hesitated a long time before answering, "I let Kevin James put his hand under my shirt."
"So another teenage hormone mauled you? You're not going to feel anything until a boy takes the time to…turn you on as much as you turn them on."
I shrugged again. Part of me wanted to tell Dell he was turning me on, but I didn't dare. "They don't seem to want to turn me on. All they want is to feel me up and get blow jobs."
I heard Dell suck air into his lungs at an alarming rate. "Have you given a blow job?"
I squirmed and fidgeted. "Once," I answered after a long while. Dell's stare bore into me like a knife. "I think."
"You think?" he pressed.
"Well, I mean…he put it in my mouth and I sucked on it…but he kept ramming it in and making me gag, so we had to stop."
"Oh hell," Dell growled low. "I thought I was up to this, but I guess I'm not." With tender fingers, he put his knuckles under my chin and urged my face up. "But you shouldn't be ashamed, honey girl. Those assholes are just boys looking to get laid. And it's all new and a little frightening to you." With a wry smile he added, "And my faith in your generation is all but used up if a knockout like you doesn't get treated like a goddess. They should be lined up for miles just to get a chance at a kiss."
His calm, almond eyes were a little smoky, and while there was still that ever-present look of concern, there was now that new, smoldering sensation when he gazed at me. I think it was that loving, tender hunger that gave me the courage to tease him with my next question.
"Would you line up for a kiss, Dell?" It was shameless I know, but I was desperate to hear his answer.
A deep sigh of regret hissed past his lips. "Maybe, if I were twenty years younger…" he trailed off.
I could see he was thinking about ending the conversation - that maybe it was traveling outside the limits his mind had set between he and I. I had to think fast and ask more questions before he played it off and changed the subject entirely.
"Dell, what did you mean when you said a boy would have to take the time to turn me on? What do boys do to turn girls on?"
He stood there wavering for a long time. There was a war going on in his head; should he answer, shouldn't he answer. I guess finally part of him won, because he began to explain. "Are you telling me all those knowledgeable sexually experienced girls who seem to have done so much more than you never talk about foreplay?"
"Is that like bases?" I asked. "They say that a lot. First base, second base…"
"Kind of," he interrupted. "But it's not about getting to a base. It's about getting your partner hot. Rubbing, kissing, nibbling, touching. Most men and women who are really sexual partners can pleasure each other even without actual intercourse and a lot of time, the more the foreplay, the more exciting the sex that follows is."
"And you think foreplay would make me feel something?" I asked, all at once breathless. I knew what my next question would be, and I was both thrilled and frightened by the possibilities of his answer. "Will you show me a little, Dell? Please?"
He swallowed hard, and I heard a low, almost inaudible groan escape him. "That wouldn't be right, honey girl."
"I just want to know I'm not frigid." I pressed, although at that point I was pretty sure I wasn't. My panties felt a little damp, and my nipples had begun to tighten in an unfamiliar, hyper-sensitivity.
"You're not frigid. It would be a fucking sin for any girl as incredibly sexy as you to be frigid." I thought with that he was going to refuse my hasty request, but then his hand moved from the counter to my knee, and his fingertips made gentle circles on the inside of my thigh.
Smiling, swelling with a strange feeling of victory, I realized we were about to dance around, and possibly beyond the very boundaries of our careful relationship. And I had never wanted anything more in my life…
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