Author: Justine Paris (pseud.)

About: "She's my daughter and I'm going to make a whore out of her!" my father screamed. And that weekend, he did--though my girl friends at school had already taught me plenty. And after my father, there were always men for me. Too many men, even, and not one of them really good enough for me. And that is why I fled to the country --where I found Prince (or did he find me?) -- my beautiful stallion, my wonderful lover, who gave me what I needed so deeply, so badly, so completely--who filled me, emptied me, soaked me, exhausted me--made me deliriously happy, and completed the educational job started by my father.

Note: There is no Sunnyfield County in Maryland... but I've heard good things about rural-ish St. Mary's, where my brother took 11 years to finish his BA at an arts school... while attending full-time.

Excerpt:

This time she was stuck. It was a spring weekend, and no one had invited her.

Though she considered herself an ugly duckling, she was very popular with the girls at school and the fellows in the town. Because she had already decided that no man would ever love or marry her, and that love was nothing but sex anyhow, she felt free from any restraint. She thought she had nothing to lose. It was known, among a few select girls at the school, that she would listen with fascination to the telling of experiences, or even daydreams about a girl's dates. After hearing tales of heavy necking, or of going all the way, she would become aroused and respond with caresses, and even—well, there was nothing she would not do. Her chosen friends were the fast and wealthy girls at the school. When she was invited for a holiday it was to a luxurious home (she had never known a home of her own) where there was plenty of fun.

But, she would later say, it was always a kind of an ordeal as well. Whenever they had a chance, the girls' fathers made passes at her; their hands were under her dress, feeling her naked thighs, and doing more if they had the nerve.

She thought that because she would take a cocktail or a cigarette if it was offered—they thought she was a sport; they saw her as fair game.

Another thing the girls liked about her was that she would break through a father's strictness. He could not, of course, offer her a drink, or a cigarette, without offering one to his daughter as well. And often, for the daughter, this would be the first time she had had either—at home.

One of the fathers had done it to her, during the Easter vacation, a year ago, when she was sixteen. He was younger and better looking than most of the fathers she had met; more attentive, even perhaps tender.

He had, somehow, got her alone one night (possibly the third night) when the others were out: her friend on a date, the mother somewhere; and had begun necking with her like a boy. As if he were a boy she let him do whatever he would with her, and when he had released himself and indicated that he wanted her to take him in hand, she had done it, knowing what he wanted her to do, and how to do it. He had not reciprocated, and, probably feeling guilty, had left her aroused.

That night, in her friend's bed, she said nothing of what had happened. But she found solace in the daughter's arms, as she had before at school.

It was the afternoon before the morning of her departure that the father had got her. Her friend had gone on a date, horseback riding with a fellow. The mother must have been out gadding. It was a warm day; the father led her to a secluded summer house on the grounds. There was a couch in there. She knew he would fuck her. He stripped off her clothes without resistance, and then his own. Taking her in his arms, he had skillfully made love to her. She took it with excitement, fascination, repression of her reaction (she did not dare let herself go) and interest. She thought him an excellent lover, for he had made it good, much better, in fact, than she dared show. They relaxed on the couch, she without modesty, cool, smoking the cigarette he had given her. He expressed great surprise that he had found her a virgin. She looked at him coldly and said, “What did you think I was, a whore?”