Blood Attracts Blood: Update 3.5

4th part of this daddies little tale......

Update 3.5: Well… I wasn’t really planning on sharing this much of the story but since some of you have asked with such enthusiasm and gusto, I feel compelled to continue. You see, that little incident during the stretch routine wasn’t the only thing that happened over that weekend. I don’t even know if I should be sharing this much. Please… I beg you… don’t judge me too harshly. This one will take… quite a bit more description and explanation than the previous rants.

It happened on Saturday, the day after that Friday’s events. I woke up late on Saturday, not until probably around ten am. I was on the couch, I still couldn’t stand to be around my wife and I was brooding on possibilities, procrastinating an inevitable confrontation. That happens another two days from this Saturday I speak of. As I write this, a week has past since that previous Saturday.

Again, I was stretching. My morning routine. I do it twice a day. Keeps me limber. Catherine plonks down on the comfortable chair in the living room and I’m facing her directly as I do my stretches. There’s a lot of space in the living room, so it is ideal for stretching and exercising. It’s a proper, single seat couch that my Catherine is sat upon. Quietly, she reads a book. I’m not really paying attention to which one. I’m not a big reader myself. Sometimes she will do this just to hang out while we both go about doing our own thing.

After a few minutes pass, while she relaxes more and more and I go through each of my stretches one by one, I notice her hand drop down between her legs. I don’t even understand why in that moment I started paying attention. It was just kinda flopped there, hanging out. I was seated on the floor by that time. Maybe she even forgot I was there as she becomes more engrossed in her book.

I gulped, with my mouth slightly agape as I payed close attention to her fingers. She began to move all her fingers as one in circles over herself, the hand still in between her legs. I stopped stretching for a minute or two, just watching. I was so incredibly hard down there. I had a seething desire to walk the short distance over there and fuck her brains out. I controlled myself and refrained from doing so but it felt like every single molecule of me was fully awake and drawn to her, my sweet, dear Catherine.

It was very slow, tentative circles at first but she gradually picked up the pace. I managed to switch gears in my head and at least feign to do some more stretches, still on the floor. During the course of a few leg and back stretches, her legs went from flopped straight out in front, in the standard sitting position, to bent up and parted far to Catherine’s sides and rested on the arms of the chair. I stood up and feigned a few more stretches. I didn’t entirely care about the stretches by then. I was just gawking at my daughter, Catherine. In fact most of the rest of the world just seems to fade out of existence as my focus hones in more and more on my little Catherine, in this moment.

Most of everyone else is still sleeping as we’re in the living room, just chilling together. It doesn’t even bother me that I’m horny as all hell right now because of the display she is putting on. I don’t dare touch myself though for fear of breaking the spell. That and my family is still dozing in bed. The wife too is sleeping, for now. I could still pass off a mere boner as morning wood, but wanking in front of my daughter? While looking at her… Harder to explain that one.

Catherine is pulled back to reality though as we hear people begin to stir awake. A door opens. Then another creeks and whines while they start seeking a lavitry. Suddenly, as footsteps can be heard loud and clear on the steps coming up from the basement, I meet my Catherine’s gaze as my eyes wonder up on her to see if she reacted to the noise. The next few moments go by quickly compared to the previous few.

We made eye contact. Her hand remains frozen between her legs. My innocent Cathrine… In that moment, she looked down on herself. Looked back up at me. Her eyes then wondered downward on my body, I could feel them on me as surely as if they were fingers directly on my bared flesh. I’m wearing boxers and a loose fitting shirt. I see her pupils dilate and contract a few times as she drank in the sight of my tent. Even my mere six and three quarter inches looks pretty big in these flimsy boxers. She only stared for a moment or two and then her eyes darted over towards the stairs, where the sounds of meandering footsteps could be heard approaching one step at a time. Then her eyes darted back down to her own hand, still resting in between her legs.

Catherine sucked in her lower lip and blushed so hard that if her cheeks went any redder they would have started bleeding. She abruptly closed her book, not even thinking to place the bookmark in it, practically yanked her hand from between her legs to then get up and beat a hasty retreat. In the moment, I can’t help but notice the little wet patch that briefly enters view whilst she yanks her hand away from the area. By then, I am so riled up with arousal that I can’t go back to my stretches and resume them, but I also feel too guilty to… ‘relive’ myself.

That was not the end of this little tale though. Most of the rest of that day was pretty eventless. We had a few guests over, they left and some of the kids went out for their Saturday evening. The wife was in to putter and lounge. Can’t blame her for that one. Sometimes, after a hard weeks work, that’s all I want for a weekend as well. We’re still content to avoid each other for the most part though. I’d decided I wanted to watch a television series we have the dvd collection for. Wondered if I could binge it in a mere seventy two hours. With five seasons there was very little chance of that but perhaps in about five weekends, I could do it. One weekend per season. ‘Sounds about right’, I thought to myself. I wore a comfortable, loose fitting t-shirt and my pyjama shorts. I wasn’t going anywhere that weekend and I didn’t have to be presentable for any work meetings, so I went in to full on slob mode despite the disapproving looks from the wife.

By the third episode in, it is close to seven o’clock, evening. Everyone except for my wife and two of the children are out of the house for various reasons. The oldest that is still living at home is Jennifer, she is in for the evening. At twenty one years old she’s taking her sweet time finding stable employment but we get along pretty well, so I don’t mind her too much for now. She doesn’t like the medieval themed tv series like I do. Catherine, on the other hand, seems to love them almost as much.

Catherine had caught on to the fact that I’m watching it by episode two and plonks down on the couch in front of me. She’s wearing a pair of jean shorts, mid-thigh length and a thin, comfortable shirt with a bra. She was planning to go for a walk but changed her mind. We don’t talk about the event of the morning. It’s forgotten. Water under the bridge but there’s a slight, unspoken, physical distance between us, at first. She takes her seat a little further down away from me on the three seater couch than she normally would but I am just happy to be in her company again. Slowly though, by the time episode three comes around, we are already snuggled up with a blanket over us, just like always. We made ourselves some pizza and follow it up with popcorn. Some of it slathered in butter, the rest has a caramel drizzle on top. She made the pizza from frozen, I made the popcorn, starting from the seeds, as opposed to pre-processed.

It is eight thirty by the time episode three is most of the way finished. The pizza is gone and we both leisurely pick at the popcorn as we please. I obviously made enough to feed a small army as it’s the only civilized thing to do in such circumstances.

“Da, I... fink Gwenn s’oul’ ‘ave gone for Merwin.” She says it as she noms pop corn and is barely intelligible. But she swallows hard to finish the second half. “The writer totally did her dirty by shipping her with that blonde klop pole by the end of the series.” Yes, this is our… third viewing of the series.

I agree with her. The first time we watched it, years ago now, we both totally had Gwen pegged for Merlin but she ent up with prince Arthur in the end. Meanwhile Merlin was apparently a forever bachelor. She leans back, fully relaxing onto me. This is pretty much instinctual for us now. Has been for years. I put both arms around her. One on her stomach and the other high across her chest, basically on her shoulder and avoiding her breasts entirely. She tilts her head to look back at me and smiles, then settles in for a good long snuggle and tv series marathon. She’s in front, my legs fanned out around her and I am, of course, sat behind her, my back leaned against the arm of the chair. I even added a little back rest to the arm of this chair, years ago now, just for this, which makes it extremely comfortable. Catherine also has a nice woolly blanket over her front for a little extra warmth. It’s big enough to cover both Catherine and most of myself too. Plus, I have Catherine’s own warmth on me, so I’m perfectly toasty. It’s quite chilly in the basement once evening swoops in and the sun light is no longer beaming in through the windows. Almost as if the warmth gets pulled out along with the setting sun.

As episode three continues to play we relax into each other. My left hand was starting to casually meander on her stomach, as usual. At some point, I put my hand directly on the skin of her stomach to continue its casual meander. I feel her lean back into me more fully. I can see the smile on her face and I smile too as I briefly look at her before refocusing on the tv.

Ten more minutes go by and we are onto the fourth episode. Suddenly her head flops backward, resting fully onto my shoulder. That’s new. I’d assumed she had been watching the tv with me until then. Then I notice her right forearm under the blanket. It intersects with my left hand now, low at the mid-section of her stomach as I continue the meander. Her legs become spread wider apart, I can feel them up against my own legs and she becomes slumped further downward into the couch. I have always loved how relaxed she can be in my presence.

I can’t help but slowly focus more and more on Catherine. I stop my hand from meandering and caress all over her stomach, using all of my fingers and both oppossable thumbs now. Her breathing picks up. I can feel movement through her forearm. She’s upto something with her fingers. I realise in this moment, her forearm is angled toward her pussy. I can’t help but wonder if she’s really doing that again while also cuddled up with me this time. Is it deliberate or has she just lost herself in the moment again?

My own breathing picks up as I realise the pussibility was looking more and more likely. My fingers trace over an increasing amount of territory on her stomach, occasionally brushing with the rim of her bra. I desperately want to stick a hand under it but am scared of the ever dwindling chance that I am wrong.

Everything else that happened until this moment could be chalked up to happenstance, coincidence, dumb luck and ‘playful’ natterings. If I cross this line though, I would truly be committing a sexual crime with my daughter. No… against my daughter, leaving no room for doubt and excusion by any type of absent mindedness. I am both thrilled and terrified simultaneously.

Both pairs of hands are still hidden under the covers. My index finger starts to play with the rim of her bra again, flirting with the idea of slipping underneath it, from below and brushing along that delicious tit flesh. I haven’t mentioned it yet, have it? She’s generously endowed. Catherine has full, round and perky D cup breasts, which look just a smidge too big for her general frame whilst simultaneously completing her full, general figure. They sit at the slightly big side of extremely healthy looking. Occasionally my finger lifts the rim of her bra and toys about underneath it.

Suddenly a door creeks and we hear it pull open at a casual pace. I pull my hands away from her breasts to low on her stomach and I no longer feel her forearms moving, which means her fingers aren’t either. Both pairs of eyes, both mine and Catherine’s are suddenly glued to the screen. Jennifer was starting to head upstairs, at first. But she must have sensed something because she turns towards us and asks, “You watching that old ass tv show again?”

I turn my head lazily towards Jennifer as she plonks down on a nearby couch. “Of course! Time for a new marathon!” I have never had to be so cloak and dagger against my own step daughter before. Jennifer is one of my wifes children from her previous marriage. She’s the second of three.

“Don’t you ever get sick of that same medieval show?”

Catherine replies this time, “No more than we get tired of Stargate or Robin Hood.”

“True, you two sure do like your binges.” It probably isn’t the case at this point but I can hear the tone of suspicion in Jennifer’s voice as she spoke to us. Was I projecting?

“Well, we wouldn’t have to if they upped the production of quality TV shows and movies in hollywood.” Catherine retorts to her older half sister. As all three of us speak, the sexual tension slowly seems to melt away between Catherine and me, so that we are able to relax again for the tv series and Jennifer.

Jennifer beams as she says this bit, “You guys should broaden your horizons a bit. Watch some crime shows or lawyer type tv series, like me.”

Me and Catherine both say in unison, “eww, fuck no!” We turn to look each other in the eyes and give each other a deep, full eye contact smile. “And don’t think we don’t know you’ve binged Law and Order at least twice now.” Catherine adds.

“You two don’t know what you’re missing.” Jennifer has a mock snooty tone now. If she really was suspicious she isn’t anymore.

I add with a clear grin thrown Jennifer’s way, “Say, do you want to join us? Are you finally trying to mend your ways and turn to the medieval side?”

Jennifer visually cringes and says with her best snooty tone and an upturned nose, “hell no. I’d rather die watching paint dry.” She gets up and pokes her tongue out then goes about doing whatever it is she set out to do while leaving her room in the first place.

Catherine retorts rather smugly, “You already watch paint dry, we’re trying to save your soul!”

“Don’t trip up the stairs!” I yell in mock concern.

“I won’… OWW! Ohh, crap… my toe.”

“You good Jenny?” I yell up, suddenly concerned.

Jennifer yells back down, you could hear the chagrin in her voice as she does it, “I’m fine! Stubbed my toe on the stairs.”

“It broken?”

“Nah.” Jennifer had picked up the nah from me. I inwardly grin every time I hear one of the kids say it. They all do it, even the step kids, at least on occasion. Even the one I don’t entirely get along with does it once in a blue moon.

I can hear from the noise of her footsteps from the floor above us that she’s heading in to my room, where her mum probably is. They liked to have a good long natter once every couple of days at least.

Suddenly my focus is pulled back to Catherine. She is fiddling with something under the covers, using both hands to do it now. I hear something and whatever I heard is followed in quick succession by the sound of a zipper. She breaths out a relieved sigh immediately after that and I feel her entire body relax into me once more. Her head leans back to rest onto my shoulder again. Her eyes are closed. Her top lip, she sucks into her mouth briefly, then switches to her lower lip. I feel the tendons on her forearm begin to twitch and that is followed up with a series of successive yet barely audible moans.

For my part, for a moment I’m swept up in the surprise of her actions. The sexual tension gets sucked back into the atmosphere like the seas had been parted and suddenly the tension holding those two bodies of water apart is gone in an instance. It rolls back in like two tidal waves colliding in the middle of no where. It would look perfectly serene and peaceful from afar but the clash of raw, tidal energy felt truly spectacular to be in the middle of.

Finally, I took a leap. I place my lips on her ear lobe and softly nibble my way around its outer edge. My hands suddenly begin caressing her stomach again. A much deeper, far from platonic touch this time. I pull them up on her stomach, remaining glued to her skin. She’s letting out half finished groans and moans that cut themselves off into gasps. I can feel from the feedback on her forearms that she’s moving those fingers with much more urgency. Each intake of air expresses her chest outwards and the swell of her delectable breasts become ever more apparent. If I angle my head down a little, I can even see a little ways down her top. Just a crack with a little bit of cleavage. I feel no shame about it in this moment.

When I hit the rim of her bra once more, I feel my sense of inhibition whither away. I push my fingers under the rim of her bra then push it up, over her breasts. They spill out of it and land neatly in the palms of my hands. She lets out a complete groan this time. I admire how well she muffles it as I fully cup both of her breasts in my hands. I tighten my grip and pull them inward towards us both, squishing them and fondling them willfully. Somewhere in the back of my mind I realise the gravity of what I am doing but for now it remains a barely acknowledged after thought. She leans hard into me and her breathing is strong and slightly erratic now.
My fondling turns into kneading. Her knees pull up and outward from herself again. She is slumped further into the couch and her head rests in my bosom now while her own bosom rests in the palms of my greedy, lustful hands. Her hair is far from neat now. You could describe it as a bit of a bed head with strands and clumps jutting out all over the place. It was nice and neat, set loose but straight and ending between her shoulder blades, close to the nape of her neck.
The more I fondle and kneed the more she responds to my touch, I start getting bolder. I set one breast loose while continuing to fondle the other. My left hand wonders downwards on her stomach again. I reach her belly button and I see her open her eyes and look upwards at me. She removes her hands from between her legs and nibbles hard on that lower lip of hers when my hands start fiddling with the edge of her knickers. I could already feel her jean shorts were unbuttoned and unzipped. That really is what I’d heard earlier, when Jennifer finally left.

Big loud, foot steps become clearly audible from the steps, leading into the basement. One thud at a time. I release Catherine’s one tit and yank my hand away from her knickers. She quickly attempts to straighten her bra and partially succeeds before the interloper arrives on the bottom step, with a clear view of both me and Catherine. The little blanket we share is rested on her legs now. I held one arm across her stomach, which hides the other hand I hold there, directly caressing her stomach, using my thumbs, I need somewhere to focus my energy and tension.

Catherine has already pulled her knees back together and I feel the slightly red hue develop on my cheeks but we still try to play it cool, pretending to watch the goings on in that little box we call a TV. All the while my hands ache for more of her, my Catherine. Jennifer looks at us briefly, then lazily strolls back into her room, leaving her door cracked open somewhat. Me and Catherine both sigh in relief when she walks out of sight.

Catherine looks fiercely at me. I stare back, meeting her gaze. I say to Catherine in no uncertain terms, “Come upstairs with me to your room, right now.”

There is little hesitation, we release ourselves from the couch and the blanket, set the tv to standby so that we can pick up where we left off later and we move upstairs as quickly and as quietly as possible.

The stairs felt like they took forever to ascend on. We turn right, towards her room. We can already see the blue and white door to her bedroom as soon as we reach the summit of the stairs. We both walk into it quickly. I close the door again as soon as I enter, trying to be quiet.

We aren’t even a full half metre away from the door by this point as I shut it fully. I grab her by her hips and pull her into me, not even giving her time to turn and face me. I’m not even sure what the game plan is at this point, I’m riding the emotional roller coaster and all roads right now lead to this girl, my daughters’ pants. I have my lips on her neck, she tilts her head, giving me more room. I lay heavy kisses all over her neck and shoulder while my hands slither around her waist to the front of her stomach then down towards her perfect little v, spreading outwards over her hips.

Her breath catches hard and repeatedly as soon as my hands are on her. There’s no subtlety this time, they’re directly on her skin as soon as I move them up to her stomach from her hips.

“O…” She murmers, into the air of the room and barely audible even to me.“Da’ad… what are we doing?” I glide my one hand back up again and practically rip her tits out of that bra, letting the flimsy piece of wired fabric sit on top and out of my way. Meanwhile my other hand buries itself beneath her jean shorts. She allows gasping moans to escape as she feels my fingers make contact with that tantalising clitoris of hers that was clearly still swollen from her previous ministrations only minutes ago. “W…” Catherine’s words catch in her mouth, doomed to remain trapped this time. My fingers go deeper into her pants. They’re teasing up and down her slit and tapping on her clit on each meandering rub. Catherine never rebuttoned or zipped her jean shorts, giving me pretty much unlimited access as I blatantly and unapologetically molest her. As we talk we’re whispering like a pair of naughty school kids afraid of getting caught.

I push her jean shorts down her legs, they stop at her knees, along with her panties and turn her around to face me, my intentions clear as a bell. Of course I have to cease my fondling to do it. I’m then looking, my head tilted down at my Catherine while staring her square in the eyes. She looks both exhilarated and slightly afraid.

“I want to share this with you Cathy. I need to share this with you right now. Oh god, what am I saying?!” I say out loud, a sudden hesitation descends up on me. The last part comes out louder than a whisper but not quite normal volume either.

“Wait, dad… I want this too… Please, dad. Don’t stop now.”

I resume kissing her on the neck, “Cathy, I need you.” My hands go down on her, I’m cupping both her firm, round, youthful ass cheeks, one in each hand. She has her own hands on my stomach. I pull away again to speak at her.

“I’m gunna share this with you because I love you so much. But we can’t tell anyone and it can only be this once and never again, ok?” I have a plan in mind now. Maybe so long as I don’t go the whole way with her then I’m not all of the way over the line and just maybe I won’t get myself lynched for screwing around with my own flesh and blood daughter.

I push her backwards until her back is pressed up against her elevated bed. Only a few inches really. At five foot seven inches, she was only a little shorter than the tallest part of the bed. It gave a hollow space underneath to putter around in or store stuff, if desired. I could have a clear view of her matress if I wanted to but I don’t care for it at the moment. I have my eyes on a different goal.

I speak to her, as if to confirm it to us both, while really needing the confirmation more for myself, “Just this once, ok? Then we get it out of our system and we can go back to being a normal father and daughter.”

She nods agreement at me again, looking me directly in the eyes while she makes her shorts and panties slip the rest of the way down her legs until they are clumped around her ankles. She stands in front of me, leaned against the bed. She’s breathy and dishevelled. Her cheeks are beat red, her eyes, pleadful. For what, in that second, I don’t dare to imagine. I step back slightly to drink in the sight of her. Catherine bites her lip as she then makes a point of stepping one foot out of her shorts and parting her legs conveniently wide for me, exuding an aura of deep trust and vulnerablity. “Your daughter needs you” She says with a pleaful tone and it’s all I can stand. It sounds exactly like I’d imagine the song of a siren to sound.
God, I’m so hard right now. I don’t even think raging boner quite does it justice. My hands latch back on to her hips. One of my hands index fingers trace its way down the outline of her v. It is bald, hairless. Shaved perfectly clean, I’m sure. I find her clit again. Gently I gave it a few swirls with that same index finger. Her hips buck a little. She’s still trying to resist that urge despite being so acutely sensitive. That’s adorable. I plow my finger between her labia, parting them like a boat cutting through ice water if it could be steaming hot. I take my time. Still, within seconds I reach the opening to her own personal treasure island. Or maybe treasure cave, in this instance. I maintain eye contact with her as I sink in the index finger. She tries to stifle a groan as it pushes in until the second knuckle deep. I give her a few gentle rubs on one of her internal walls before pulling it out again.

Her eyes stare at me with such longing in this moment. I smile at her. I see in this one second of time that pass between us that we really are terribly in love, for a father and daughter. As my finger torments her entry with its absense I line up my middle finger with the index and then shove them both back in again. I push them in up to the hilt in one steady movement until they’re both all of the way in, last knuckle deep. As they slide in, she lets out a stifled cry of pleasure. Her mouth opened up far too wide for the small amount of volume that exits. Tis a mix of a pleasured groan and a wistful sigh.

In this short space of time, I think to myself, ‘I’m really finger fucking my daughter right now… and I don’t feel the tiniest bit of guilt.’ It is followed by the next thought as I pay close attention to her face while moving both fingers in and out, constantly varying the angle slightly. ‘God she grew up so beautiful and so quickly! Mmm, look at the dirty, lustful face I’m causing on her right now.’

Catherine is gripping my shoulders with both hands. The word, “daaad,” escapes her lips. She is gushing wet and perfectly slick. Now I kneel in front of her, my fingers pull out of her. I look down on her legs in my new position as if to inspect her. The backs of her knees and thighs are riddled with stretch marks from the rapid growth she’s experienced over the last four years.

She looks at me. I looked back up at her. I see the insecurity in her eyes as she speaks, looking down at me, “they’re stretch marks dad. I know they look ugly. Docs said when I get older they’ll all but disappear, so long as I look after my skin.” I knew the docs were probably lying; heavy stretchmarks like that never really go away.

I grin upwards at her and reply with action instead of words. I run a hand up and down that delicious thigh of hers, taking my time to feel every tiny millimetre. A little bumpy. Not a hair in sight though. I love the feel of her bare… raw legs under my finger tips. I put my lips on them. Her legs that is. She lets out a peep. I start from her knee and kiss upwards on her thigh, on the inside. Catherine places her hands tentatively on my head. I can see she’s nervous, not quite sure where this is going yet.

In an instant though she grips me by the hair. As soon as my mouth makes contact with her pussy lips. She doesn’t yank me away or anything but the surprise pleasure must be overwhelming her for a brief moment. I swirl my tongue around her clitoris the way I’d already done with my fingers and at the same time I jam both fingers, still slick from earlier, back inside her. She writhes at my touch but she is a very good girl. My Catherine is breathing hard suddenly but fights hard to stay quiet under my touch. She succeeds too, for the most part. I smile faintly as I look up at her. I switch from swirling my tongue to suckling her clit and now I can feel her fingers dig deeper into my head of hair.

Her hips start to buck after I begin thrusting in and out of her with my fingers once more. I could feel her knees begin to give out whilst she leans more and more on my head, using me as a crutch just as much as she did the bed post. Her breaths are turning into whispered moans and grunts.

I thrust harder, lick faster. The tempo of the moment suddenly and dramatically increase. She’s gyrating her hips on my face. My nose is buried in her perfect little cunt. The lack of lighting in the room hides the slathering of lubricant all over my face. My daughters special lubricant. I change angles and curl my fingers slightly. I’m hitting a new angle.
Catherine’s mouth opens again but nothing is coming out, yet. I smirk on one side of my face. I suckle again but this time I also add a deep hum. She turns rigid almost immediately. Her one hand searching, reaching for something, anything behind her to brace herself or at least slow her decent. She finds the bed post but nothing is stopping her from slumping down onto the floor as she rides that wave. She lets out a louder than intended bellow as she moves to seated. I smile, pull out of her and back off for a moment as she descends to the floor. I’m staring down at her and she’s staring back up at me, both with a deep love for one another.

Suddenly a knock is heard at the door. I quickly hide under her bed. I sit on a small, not very comfortable stool that’s conveniently there. There is also a curtain that’ll mostly hide me, I just have to hope they don’t notice my feet. “Are you ok in there Catherine?” It’s one of my sons, Gavin, in this case.

Catherine quickly rises up on to her feet as he poses the question then replies both audibly breathy and slightly wobbly on her knees. “I.. I’m fine. Just getting dressed.”

He opens the door anyways. He probably didn’t hear her properly. Catherine turns around so her back is to him as she sees the door open and the light of the hallway cut through the darkness of the room. She barks at him harshly, “I said I’m getting fucking dressed. Get out of my room!!!”

He stands there for a moment staring at her exposed lower half. Just gawking at her ass and the stretchmarks all over her legs. “Sorr… Sorry, I heard something and it sounded like you were distressed.”

“Well, I’m not! Now get out of my room, can’t you see I’m not dressed!!!” Rebecca jr intervenes. Named after a great aunt on her biological fathers side, she’s Rosanne’s child. The third of the litter from her previous marriage and the one I don’t quite get along with for reasons I won’t get into unless they become relevant. “Dude, stop gawking at the girl and get out of her fucking room.” Out of all of the kids voices, her’s is the most Canadian sounding yet she still tilts into a plain as day English accent every once in a while. And yes, it still pleases me deep down but damned if I’ll tell her that. She yanks him out of the room by the hair. He protests at first but backs down because he knows that he is technically in the wrong there. Rebecca jr closes the door for Catherine. Even little Rebecca has her good qualities. Oh I forgot to mention, she’s also the shortest out of all of the kids at five foot four inches. Her mom is five, five. Catherine is ironically the current tallest child too at five, seven. There’s still some time for this to change though.

When the door finally shuts fully and the darkness of the room returns to partially cloak Catherine’s nudity, I step out from behind the curtain. She looks at me, weepy eyed. Happy or sad, I’m not quite sure right then. We embrace deeply and she utters into my ear. “That was scary. We nearly got caught.”

“Yeah, we did. We didn’t hear them come back home, we were so wrapped up in each other.” I reply with a calm voice.

“I really liked what you shared with me dad. That felt so beautiful.”

“Me too sweetheart. Me too. But remember it’s just this once. We mustn’t do that again or we’ll get ourselves into big trouble. After this we’ll just go back to being a normal father and daughter. Ok?”

She nods, almost subserviently. I caress her cheek with my hand. I drink the sight of her in with my eyes one more time and I lean down again to kiss her on the cheek profusely. We oddly enough continue to avoid direct lip to lip contact as if that were the final, forbidden act we could possibly perform.

Well of course, I haven’t dicked her upto this point. I haven’t made, asked her to or let her do anything to my own body either. It’s just this once. We had not gone all of the way yet. Do you think I could have been redeemed here?

If you like what ya read so far, there are other stories you can check out at sinnersoasis dot net.