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ASSM;'My Best Friends Father #6.'{LolaScott}( Mf, reluc )[Part 6.] 

My Best Friends Father 4 (Mf, reluc)[4 of 6 ] 

Do not Copy me its not nice!
ADULTS ONLY!!  If your not an adult, where the hell are your parents?
##Please send any feedback you have to ms_lola_scott@yahoo.com or IM me 
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feel free.

Based on my life:  Names and places have been changed to protect 
privacy. 


My Best Friend’s Father  Part 6
There is a picture of my two best friends and me at our senior prom that all three of us 
have copies of somewhere in our homes. If you look very closely at the photo, you can 
see that the straps of my dress are torn. Lisa is in the middle, looking angelic as usual; her 
light blond hair pulled tightly back into some sort of elaborate knot. Carrie is on the right, 
slightly drunk, and grinning slyly. And there’s me, smiling weakly, nervously, my head 
slightly tilted toward my friend’s shoulder. 
There we are: Three best friends. We’d been inseparable since the 3rd grade. I was the 
perfectionist, the brain, the athlete, while Carrie was the bad girl, the slut - the girl very 
literally from the wrong side of the tracks. Then there was Lisa. Sweet wonderful Lisa. 
The Homecoming Queen. The princess. Now ten years later, the three of us are different, 
but really just different versions of the old stereotypes.  
That picture reminds me of my friends, of how far we have all come, but when my eyes 
zero in on the torn strap of my prom dress, I think of this: 
The night started badly. I stood with my date in the lobby while he talked and laughed 
with our friends and their families. I wasn’t being social though, I had been looking for 
my parents, craning my neck trying to locate them in the crowd of noisy parents 
photographing their beloved children. I kept praying that one of my parents would show 
up. Any of them, a mom a dad … Hell I’d have been pleased to see either of my 
stepparents walking through the ballroom doors. Anything! Any evidence that someone 
had remembered or cared that it was my senior prom.  
“Where’s your mother Lola?” Lisa’s mother asked, turning to me. She took a better look 
at my face and frowned.  
“Ohhh honey,” she said hugging me. “I’m sure she… well..” 
I smiled weakly at my friend’s kind mother. We both knew my mother had forgotten. She 
was likely off somewhere with her husband, somewhere fabulous that I’d get a nice post 
card from.  
“She’ll be very sorry she missed it honey, you look beautiful.” Lisa’s mother looked back 
at her husband who was standing close by. “Doesn’t she look beautiful John?” 
My heart sank when I saw him. Why was he here? He never comes to these things. Lisa’s 
father looked at me, then back at his wife. She glared at him. He looked again at me. Our 
eyes met.  
I remembered the way his tongue felt as it moved up my thigh… how his skin tasted … I 
shivered. 
“Yea, of course she does,” he mumbled, looking away. I shivered again. 
His voice echoed through my head. “You’re so beautiful...”  
He’d whispered that to me countless times. I could almost feel his breath against my ear 
as he fucked me. His eyes stared at me with hostility that I didn’t really understand. We’d 
decided it was over between us a month before. My mind flashed back to that beach in 
Key West where we met again by chance. How we found each other on that black beach, 
I’m not sure, but we did. We fucked furiously in the sand, my legs on his shoulders, his 
body crushing my thighs against my chest. The moon was uncovered by the clouds and 
was suddenly blinding me with its white and I could only hear his grunting and the soft 
waves.  
“You’re so beautiful,” he whispered after we’d climaxed together. “So incredibly 
beautiful.”  
Standing there at my senior prom, I could still feel the rough sand imbedded into my 
back.  
I felt a hand on my back. It was my boyfriend. I had to get out of there. 
“Hey wanna go up to the tower with me?” I whispered in my boyfriend’s ear. I knew he 
would not go. He hated heights. He hated the tower. 
“Its freezing up there” he replied. 
I knew that. I didn’t care though. I had to get out of there for a minute and collect my 
thoughts.  
“Mind if I go?” 
“You’re crazy, you’re going to freeze!”  
“I just want to look!” I said, looking at him warmly. “It will just take a sec, do you 
mind?” 
“You’re going to freeze,” he said again, shaking his head. 
“Ok, I’ll be back,” I said, kissing his cheek. 
He smiled at me. I walked up the narrow steps to the tower. 
It was cold up there. I couldn’t hear a thing except for the wind banging against the tower 
windows. I walked over to the huge windowpane and leaned forward against it, resting 
my forehead on the glass. The cold surface felt good on my skin. Over the howling wind, 
I heard a gleeful screech of some mother or girl from the lobby.  
I closed my eyes.  
They had missed it. My goddamn parents missed my prom. I wallowed in my self-pity. 
I’m the only senior whose parents didn’t show up to take pictures. I wanted to scream. I 
wanted to kick and hit the glass. I wanted to throw the security guard chair through the 
glass, breaking it, and jump out plummeting to my own restful death! That would show 
them! Then I laughed, picturing my mother, crying at my funeral, secretly gleeful over 
what I had done. Now she was a grieving mother! Parent of a dead child! Oh the drama! 
The sublime romance of it all! I could see her, tearfully proclaiming her love for me and 
her horror over what I had done! Nope, I’d never jump. I'd never give her that 
opportunity. 
I heard someone coming up the steps but I didn’t turn around. I was still too deep in my 
self-pitying fantasy to be concerned. I could smell liquor, so I assumed it was Carrie. I 
stared out the window, focusing my vision on a blinking construction crane on the other 
side of the river. 
A hand slipped around my mouth. My body was pushed against the glass. 
It was him.  
I was sick of this! I struggled violently, my verbal disapproval muted by the hand 
clamped viciously around my mouth. I wasn’t afraid yet, but I was angry. My hands 
pulled at his arms. Suddenly his knee thrust hard against my legs forcing its way in-
between them. I yelped in pain tears welled up in my eyes. He yanked my head back 
viciously.  
“You let him fuck you!” He spat into my ear. He pushed my head forward against he 
glass. His hand left my mouth. 
“You’re hurting me!” I whispered against the window. 
“Shut up!” He said. I could feel his cock hard against my thigh. He had my body crushed 
against the cold glass windowpane. “I heard my daughter talking about it!” 
“Stop it!” I gasped. “I said this was over!”  
His breathing was heavy. I realized knew the alcohol I smelled on his breath was Crown 
Royal. I’ll never forget that smell.  
“You’re hurting me!” I shouted hoarsely. His hands slid up the sides of my body to my 
breasts. He began squeezing them roughly.  
“She said you’d fucked him!” I struggled but he kept kneading them harder. “That little 
bastard,” he mumbled. “You let him fuck you!”  
His hands pulled at the material that covered my breasts. I was shaking, crying now.  
“You’ll fucking remember it was me who broke you in!”  
I shuddered in disgust. I felt the material of one of my dress straps give in and rip.  
“I fucked your little cherry, you slut! I made you cum all over my cock!”  
I could feel the heat between my legs rising. He tore off the other dress strap, pulling the 
material down to expose my breasts. He held them roughly in his hands as he thrust his 
hips into me rhythmically. 
“Nooo!” I moaned in rage and rising pleasure. 
He turned me around to face him. I’ll never know how a face so handsome could 
suddenly look so cruel. I had made myself cum every night for two years to the thought 
of his face, his body. At that moment, though, the man in front of me was a terrifying 
stranger. He was not my lover as much as he was my rapist.  
“NOO Please Mr. Jones! Stop!!”  
“Shut up,” he said, clamping his hand around my neck and pushing up my dress up over 
my hips with the other.  
I sobbed. My eyes stung from the mascara that was running down my cheeks. He kissed 
me hard, slamming his pelvis against mine. I shivered under the force of that kiss. I could 
taste the liquor. My body was ready for him automatically. It was a natural response, but 
I shook with terror and rage.  
He molested my breasts in his hands, his rough fingers squeezing my nipples. 
“No!” I whimpered. “Please, no”  
He pushed me forward, slamming my chest against the glass and pulling my hips back 
toward him.  
“Don’t! No! Stop!” I struggled but he had my hands pinned against my back.  
He let go of my hands, reaching around my waist and moving downward to cup my pubic 
mound in his hands. He rubbed my pussy through my panties.  
“You,” he breathed. “You’re such a little slut.” He licked my ear making me cringe. 
“You’re already wet and ready for me”  
“I hate you!” I sobbed.  
He jerked the thin fabric of my panties, trying to rip them. I grunted in pain and began to 
sob. He clamped a hand over my mouth again and jerked my panties again, this time 
ripping the seam on one side. I sobbed into his hand. I felt his cock against my ass, prying 
at my flesh until he found my familiar opening.  
I was humiliated and furious that my body had betrayed me. I was wet. I fought back, 
trying to close my legs but he kneed my inner thigh causing my knee to buckle. I 
screamed loudly.  
The head of his cock found my entrance and he thrust all of himself deep into me. I 
moaned despairingly into his hand. My body went limp in defeat. He began fucking me 
hard, his breathing was ragged. I hated him. I hated myself more. He felt so good inside 
me. The pain was fading away, I saw my breath on the window as he lowered his hand 
from my mouth. He squeezed my breasts and I moaned softly. 
“Hmm, yea, that’s it,” he grumbled as he felt my body beginning to respond.  
He began kissing and licking my neck. I was shivering and still crying. He pulled out of 
me suddenly and I almost fell back ward. He grabbed my arms turning me toward the 
bench in the corner. He sat down pulling me into his lap. My dress was still crunched up 
around my waist. I was dazed and still shocked.  
The feelings and thoughts that my brain was sending were no longer clear. I had escaped 
into a fog so that I felt nothing. The only thing I could feel were his hands on my ass. He 
pulled me close to him. I was shaking hard, although I was still stiff and rigid as he held 
me tightly in his arms. He arranged my arms around his neck and slowly pushed his cock 
up into me.  
“Ughhhh Lola” he moaned “you feel soo good!”  
He jerked me up and down on his cock. I began to spasm. He knew I was going to 
orgasm before even I did. He grabbed onto my ass tightly and I began to cum. It washed 
over me like a tsunami of pleasure. I gasped, my body jerking up. He kissed me hard 
muting my impending cries with his mouth. I could taste the liquor on his tongue. The 
wave retreated leaving a wasteland of guilt. I suddenly realized that he was cumming. His 
cock jerking as his semen shot into me. He froze up his muscles tightening as much as his 
intoxicated muscles would allow.  
“I’m so sorry Lola,” he mumbled, pushing me off his lap onto the floor.  
I pulled my dress up over my breasts. I realized I was still crying. He stood up quickly 
pulling his pants up and buttoning them. He looked down at my crumpled body on the 
floor remorsefully. I looked away, too furious to meet his glance.  
Music started beneath us. My senior prom had begun. He slowly walked toward the 
stairs. I didn’t know why he was moving so slow. I’m sure he wanted to say something 
but it wasn’t going to help either of us. I closed my eyes and listened to his footsteps 
descending the stairs. They came to an odd halt that made me sit up. I cringed, afraid he 
was coming back, but I became even more panicked when I heard his deep voice 
speaking softly to someone.  
I stood up in a panic looking for somewhere to hide as I heard a new set of footsteps 
coming up the steps. As quickly as I could I searched for a place to hide.  
“Oh shit!” said the voice as they reached the top before I knew it. “Jesus Christ,” Carrie 
gasped.  
I looked at my friend. She looked beautiful. I started sobbing, my whole body heaving in 
hysterics. She came to me letting me collapse into her arms.  
“Its okay sweetie,” she whispered, petting my neck  
“I’ll make sure he pays for this,” she breathed in deeply. “I’ll slit his fucking throat Lola, 
I swear I will, you just tell me what you want!”  
I looked at her shaking my head. She sighed,  
“Fine. Have it your way.” She pushed me back looking at me,. 
“Goddamn. Look at this,” she said softly holding the broken strap of my dress between 
her fingers.  
She and I sat on the bench as she pulled out my mirror from my purse. She fixed my hair 
while I reapplied my makeup successfully ridding my face of tearstains. She pinned my 
dress together with pins from her hair. She didn’t say another word about any of it. She 
never has to this very day. 
We were met by flashing cameras as we entered the ballroom.  
“Come on!” Lisa called, waving at us. The three of us stood together in front of the 
picture window smiling as Lisa’s mother took our picture.  
I look at that picture of us. Laughing a little, thinking how Lisa had given it to me in a 
beautiful frame. It was a thank you gift for throwing her wedding shower. I look at her 
innocent face, Carrie’s Cheshire cat grin. I stare into the face of a young girl that 
sometimes I cannot believe is me. Some things never change, and some things do 
figuring out which things do which is harder than it seems.  
That was the last time he ever touched me. It was in fact the last time I ever saw him. 
That was, until his daughter’s wedding. 

