My Dad

[sexyshalu21]

I was waiting at the kitchen table for Ajay's boyfriend to show up. Tonight was supposed to be "the mysterious meeting." They had something to tell me. Of course, the little bastard was ten minutes late now.
"He'll be here any minute," Ajay said, holding up her cell phone. "He said he's on his way."
"You could just tell me what Rahul wants to talk to me about, and I'll act surprised when he brings it up later."
"No, Papa," Ajay said. "This is important. We need to have this discussion together."
I sighed, looking at my watch. "He's got five more minutes."
Rahul didn't need five minutes. The doorbell rang in just two. Ajay whisked off to find him, and a moment later she was back, arm in arm. I stared at them standing in front of me... a couple.
My daughter was 18 now, and old enough to make her own decisions, pick her own boyfriend, but I wasn't going to let her be a slut, not under my roof. It would be easy for her to turn into a slut too. She had her mother's slutty disposition, as well as her sexy hips, leading to her hourglass figure, with perky little tits, not that I was looking. Okay, maybe I was looking a little. She also had those come-hither hazel eyes that drew men like flies, and long flowing brown hair.
Of course, I had done one thing right with her: I had taught her to respect her papa. She never went on dates without permission, or stayed out later than I told her, or got drunk or high with her friends. She was a good girl. I had long since spanked the fight out of her.
I made her turn down about ten boys before I finally agreed to let her date Rahul. The reason was simple. He was a nerd, a small framed kid with big framed glasses and black hair that always got into his eyes. I liked him because I knew he'd never take advantage of my daughter. He'd probably cum in his pants before he ever got them off.
I stood up from my chair, towering over Rahul. He was almost a foot shorter than me. I shook his hand and crushed it in my palm. "Good to see you again, Rahul."
"Hi, Owen."
I raised an eyebrow. "Owen?"
"I-I mean, Mr. Owen, sir," he squeaked. "I'm sorry I'm late."