Heathers Night Man

The evening was typical of so many others. Heather cuddled against her father, her eyes glued to the TV, watching her favorite show. Each Saturday evening the two of them followed the same ritual. First Heather made popcorn. Then she propped herself against a fluffy pillow. When she felt comfortable, she opened her arms so her father could join her.

He always did.

The "Night Man" was in its second season, still not a hit, but gathering steam as a small cadre of loyal followers spent an hour each week, eyes fastened to the screen as the hero awoke in the darkest part of the night to dash off in search of some poor soul to rescue.

Tonight, a poor girl, barely old enough to leave home had missed her ride from work. Forced to walk to her home alone, she jumped at every sound. First it was a cat, then a man returning home drunk. Eventually the true danger arose in the form of four brutes who circled her in a menacing manner. Just as a tall and particularly ugly thug grabbed her arm, the "Night Man" appeared. He spun around a few times and dispatched the muggers.

Of course, the "Night Man" carried the distraught girl to his apartment. As they stepped over the threshold of the squalid residence, the "Night Man" encircled the slender woman in his strong arms.

In a similar manner, Heather's father, Justin Benson held her. The two of them lay on the couch, their eyes on the TV show, their bodies connected like two pretzels.

"Daddy. Do you have a stick in your pajamas?" Heather asked.

"No. It's something else."

"It's not a stick all right. Smoother. Hey it's your pee-pee. Hard as a rock.

"Yes it is sweetie," her father said.

"Why's it so hard? How could you ever pee with it this way? You'd shoot straight up toward the ceiling."

Justin dug his face into his daughter's bare shoulder. His shoulders shook with laughter. His face rubbed against the girl's smooth skin, and the thin strap of her nightie eased down her shoulder.

"Quit the baby girl act, sweetheart. You know what it is. Maybe you've never touched one before, but those books you've read must've mentioned it."

Heather released the penis that had prodded her from behind just moments earlier. She tossed her long blond hair out of the way so her father could bury his face deeper into her shoulder.

"I know. I've read so many books, but they're just words. I've never felt any of them. I wish there was a knight out there, riding a white horse, to sweep me away in strong arms. We'd make love all night long."

"I'm sure that would be the most wonderful thing in the world," her father said. "I can only imagine how wonderful it would be to make love to you, my little girl."

She turned around to face her father. As she moved, the strap of her garment slid off her shoulder, revealing a small, perfectly round breast. She placed her arms around his neck, studying him.

"Oh, daddy. Making love to you would be incredible. I just wish, I meet a man like you, someone I can love with all my heart."

"And maybe I'll meet another woman, a good woman this time, someone who won't leave me the way your mother did." His voice choked as he finished the words. "I'm sorry. I don't mean to speak badly of her. She had her reasons. Maybe, it's me."

The girl kissed him them. "Oh no daddy. You're wonderful. Mom was a bitch. I remember. Never happy about anything. You'd be the best lover in the whole world. I just wish I wasn't your daughter."

"Me too," he said softly. "But really. If you saw me in a bar, would you want to go home with me? Would your heart race with desire? Would you have trouble keeping your hands off me?"

Heather laughed. "I have trouble now, silly. Who cares about a bar. I don't go to them anyway. Knowing someone is what makes love work."

"Is that why you never go to clubs, never bring handsome men home with you?"

"I think it's more than that, something else," she said.

Justin pulled back to stare at his daughter. Her femininity hit him like a baseball bat. She was twenty-one and still a virgin. Yet how ravishing she looked. The men should be crawling out of every corner of the house, in the yard, on the street. What had happened?

He tried to be objective as he studied the girl. Maybe it was a father's love that made her seem like a goddess in human flesh. Be detached, he told himself. Examine her as a stranger.

He tried. This girl, no this woman, stood five-four in stocking feet. When had she changed from a girl into this lovely creature? He shook his head. Be impartial, he reminded himself. Just the facts.

Five-four, long blond hair sweeping down her back, smooth tan skin, long legs, small ass with a curve spreading outward, wisps of light hair covering her cunt. Yes, he had seen her pussy--often. Even now, there was nothing under her nightie.

Many a time, Justin has sat across from his daughter as she spread her legs revealing the delights within. He knew every detail, every curve, freckle, and dimple. The light hair surrounding her slit hid nothing, even the small bud of a clit had been reached by his probing eyes. He often wondered what it would taste like to flick it with his tongue.

He shook his head again. Not the way to think about his own daughter. What kind of a pervert had he become? He shuddered to think that she might know his thoughts, wonder what a sicko she had for a father.

He had not known a woman for many months now. How could he be expected to resist such charms? He hesitated telling her to dress more appropriately. He loved her. He wanted her. All these feelings and desires were wrong. And yet . . . .

Justin wanted it to continue, just a few more months, until he found a real woman. He wanted to see her flesh unfolded in the morning when she came into the kitchen, her nightgown barely concealing her soft curves. He anticipated the evenings, when they would cuddle on the couch. He would wear his boxer shorts and she a thin teddy. When they touched, he felt a surge of something pass between them.

Heather's father tried to ignore his feelings, but today he knew the truth. Nothing could stop his erection when he neared her slender form. He wondered how much she knew, how much that "stick-in-his-shorts" had told her.

He hadn't been able to resist pushing it against her. For a second, he thought she had responded. But then she had joked about the whole thing. He would rather die than harm her in any way. Nothing would be worse than hurting her inside where her heart lived. He needed to be more careful, resist the temptation.

He remembered the feeling when she touched him. He had felt a jolt race through him. He wanted to feel that way again.

As he stared into her eyes, he wondered what thoughts churned behind those blue orbs. He pulled her against his chest.

"I love you babe," he said.

"I love you too daddy," she responded.

The hour was late, so they separated, headed for their bedrooms.

At the top of the stairs, Heather turned back to her father. "Daddy. If I need you tonight, will you come to me and comfort me?"

"Of course sweetheart. I'll do anything for you. Anything you want." His heart raced. "What's the problem?"

"I don't know." Her voice was soft. "Sometimes I have trouble sleeping and wish you were there to hold me all night long."

"Oh darling," her father said. "That might be dangerous. You're beautiful and I haven't had a woman for a long time."

"I know. Good night."

#

The week wore on like an itch that couldn't be scratched.

Heather had her face buried in her books most of the time. Justin's clients arrived on Monday from Texas and he spent each day in meetings, returning late in the evening to fall asleep on the couch.

Thursday was the first evening he actually had time to climb the stairway to his bedroom. A quick shower and he fell asleep naked on top of the covers.

He didn't know what woke him up. He sat up naked on his bed, silent, listening.

Then he heard it, a voice, Heather's. Without a second thought, he raced to her room.

His daughter lay under the covers, her blue eyes wide open, staring at him as he stood over her.

"What is it babe?" Justin asked.

Heather's face gleamed in the moonlight like a fairy princess, Justin thought.

"I need you tonight," she said. "Remember, you promised that you'd hold me if I asked." She spread the covers to let him in.

Her father stared at the spot beside her, at her nakedness under the covers, the brown sheen of her side. Her breast caught the light like a beacon from the gods drawing him forward.

So, he slid under the covers and held her.

"What's bothering you tonight?" he asked.

"I'm not sure." Her voice was a whisper, breathy, as though it came from her throat rather than her mouth. "I heard something. It scared me. I knew I needed you."

Then he heard it, a sound from downstairs, slightly muffled, as though someone was walking around. A drawer slammed and he held Heather tight against him.

"Don't worry," he said softly. "I won't let anything hurt you."

Justin rose from the bed to lock the door, jammed a chair under the doorknob, then grabbed an aluminum baseball bat from Heather's closet. He walked to the desk and lifted the phone.

No dial tone.

The sound of glass breaking reached them from below. Heather's father leaned over a computer that glowed on the desk. He found the Lakewood police web site. The site had an intruder alert where he typed his address to inform the police that someone had broken into his home.

Then, he crept back into Heather's bed. His slipped against her naked buttocks, his chest pressed tight to her back, his arm encircling her. His hands cupped her breasts, squeezing them slightly, his fingers grazing the nipples.

"I love you," he said softly.

"You're my 'Night Man' daddy," she said. "Don't stop, touch me all over. I want to know your love. I want to feel you squirt into my pussy. Fuck me daddy."

His penis hardened and he pushed it against her buttocks, probing, hunting, trying to find entry. She never said anything, just reached back and held it. A jolt like electricity shot through him as she squeezed him, sliding her hand up and down.

He stroked her chest, then moved downward over her stomach, between her legs. Heather moved her legs apart and he eased a hand between them. She was so wet, his finger entered her before he realized it had happened. As her firm flesh closed around his digit, she jerked.

While Justin spent his energy stroking Heather, she returned the favor. Her hand gripped his penis so tightly, he thought he would come immediately.

A creak on the stairs told them that the intruder approached the upper level.

Justin pushed forward and his penis slid between Heather's legs. Her hand directed it and he entered her. He felt the tightness of her vaginal wall as it gripped his cock. He pushed in, then pulled back, further and further, he entered her. As he did this, his finger caressed her clit, grazing the side of it at first, rubbing around it. Each time he reached the tip, she jerked and he entered further into her wetness.

When he reached her barrier, he stopped. Then with one quick jerk, he plunged all the way inside.

"Ah," she gasped, trying not to make a sound, unable to stop.

The noise on the steps suddenly ceased. For several seconds, only silence filled the night air. Then the creaking began again, closer and closer.

Justin was beyond thinking, pounding back and forth into his precious daughter. He heard the doorknob rattle, but he didn't stop, couldn't stop. Heather was gasping now, her sighs and groans growing louder and louder.

"Ah. Ah. Don't stop. Fuck me daddy."

He could barely think straight. The rattle at the door continued. Would it hold? He reached over and touched the baseball bat.

Never stopping his motion, Justin pounded against his daughter's soft ass. Because of her wetness, a sloshing sound permeated the night air. The prowler must have heard it. Even more, he must have heard Heather's cries as they filled the room.

"Daddy. Oh. Oh. Daddy. I feel you so deep in me. Don't stop. Don't ever stop."

And her father didn't stop. His finger rubbed her clit with fast swipes. His penis penetrated her pussy over and over. In and out.

He felt as though he would explode any minute.

Would he finish in time? He glanced up and saw the door push into the room. But the chair held. How long would it do so? He needed to stop this craziness, grab the bat and smash the intruder. But his daughter's pussy held him in a vise, a grip of love and passion that nothing could stop.

The banging on the door rose in intensity. The sounds of sirens reached their ears. The police. They had almost arrived.

"I'm coming daddy. I'm coming. It's so fucking great. So fucking beautiful."

Justin's body tensed. He jerked. He shot his seed deep into Heather, hot and untamed. Millions of sperm searched for an egg to fertilize.

He leaped from the bed, his cock rock hard standing tall in front of him. With bat in hand, Justin pulled the chair away and ripped the door open. No one was there. He rushed into the hallway. Nothing. Down the stairs. Empty.

The prowler had fled.

When the police arrived, both Heather and her father were fully dressed, sitting on the couch. The officers searched for the intruder but only found a broken window. Eventually, they left.

With their red and blue lights disappearing into the distance, Justin glanced at his daughter sitting beside him on the couch.

"What happened?" he asked.

"A thief tried to rob us," Heather responded. "You were my 'Night Man' and saved me."

"I mean with us, in the bedroom. What did we do? What did I do?"

"You loved me daddy, like you always do, but different, like a man with a woman."

He buried his face in his hands. "My own daughter. I can't believe it."

"But you love me daddy. You just did what a man does when he loves his girl." She laughed. "You fucked me like my knight in shining armor. It was fantastic."

"But it was wrong wasn't it. Sick. Perverted." His voice shook as he spoke.

"I don't know daddy. It didn't feel wrong. It felt like love."

"Well we can't do it again."

"Anything you say daddy. I love you."

"I love you too," he said.

"I need you to hold me again tonight. After all this I'll never get to sleep without you."

An hour later, the two of them were naked in Justin's king sized bed. She was on one side and he on the other.

"I'm cold," Heather said. "Hold me daddy."

So he did.

#

Heather had an English test the next week so her head once again huddled over her books as she prepared for her examination. Justin threw himself into his work harder than ever. The only time he saw Heather was in the mornings.

On Wednesday, when he sauntered into the kitchen, Heather stood over the stove, leaning forward, her nightie pulled over her ass like an eclipse over the curve of the moon. He stood in the doorway, his eyes riveted to the roundness of her cheeks, the hairs of her cunt glinting in the sunlight. He thought she hadn't heard him, so he remained standing, staring, feeling his loins stirring, remembering the most exciting night of his life.

His daughter was no toy to play with and then discard. She was his flesh and blood, the person he loved more than any other. He wanted the best for her. Real life had complications however, things that tore the heart apart. He wanted to run to her and fuck her over and over until she was a slave of his love and passion. But love held him back.

"How many eggs do you want?" The words sprang from Heather into the stillness of the morning like the honk of a horn. She knew he stood behind her, studying her.

"Two would be perfect," he responded.

"Good," she said. "We need to talk."

Justin poured himself some orange juice and sat at the table. Heather placed eggs and bacon in front of him and sat down with her own plate. As she leaned over her food, his eyes darted to the smooth surface of her skin, down her neckline to her lovely breasts. He resisted the temptation to touch one of them, stroke the soft warmth wafting up to his face. He imagined her sighs of pleasure.

"I've been thinking about the other night," Heather said. "What we did was wrong you know. No society can have fathers do this to their daughters. It makes the family unit unstable."

Justin nodded. "Absolutely. And the genetics of deformed babies is a documented fact."

"I disagree on that one." Heather's voice took on a didactic tone. "The genetic abnormalities only occur after inbreeding for several generations. Children from brother and sister or father and daughter certainly have some chance of that but it's fairly remote."

"OK, professor." Justin laughed. "Still, it's against the law. All of society norms speak against it. Taboo. To even contemplate it is a sickness to most people."

"Ok. So if we were lovers, we'd need to hide it." Heather's voice had risen in excitement.

"And if we had children, we'd need to go somewhere and pretend we were husband and wife."

"Would you like to be my husband?" A soft look spread across Heather's face.

"Of course, but it's not that simple. And you, do you want to be my wife?"

Heather paused then as if in deep thought. "I do love you in every way like a wife would. Yet . . . ."

"It feels a bit creepy doesn't it?"

"Yes, it feels wrong." Heather's voice had risen again. "I want you daddy, so much. And yet I have this feeling that it's all wrong. I think maybe we should never fuck again. It's the best thing in the world, but I feel like I am falling down a well now. I don't know what will happen when I hit the bottom."

"So it really comes down to feelings." Justin pursed his lips. "We feel wrong about this so we shouldn't pursue it." He slid a hand along Heather's bare leg, feeling the electricity again, yet trying to keep his mind clear. "If that's what you want, fine. I love you babe. I'll do what you want."

"But I can't sleep at night now." Heather's voice had a sadness to it. "I wish you could just lay with me at night and hold me. Would that be so wrong?"

"No I suppose not," Justin said thoughtfully. "I'll do it sweetheart. And I'll try to be good."

"Me too," Heather replied.

#

Heather had already gone to bed when Justin arrived home from work. After a quick snack and shower, he slipped under the covers next to her.

"Nice to see you daddy," she murmured as she opened her arms. He snuggled against her bare chest. His right leg slid between hers. He lay that way for hours, wide awake.

Sometime during the night he fell asleep.

He awoke swaying back and forth as though he were in a rocking chair. His cock had wedged itself into Heather's butt crack and had pushed further and further into her.

"Heather," he whispered. "You awake?"

No answer.

Relieved, he pulled out of her. He must have been at least two inches into her ass. The sensation had been incredible, but he had made a promise and meant to keep it.

Wondering if perhaps her butt hole had become sore, he slipped away and returned with a tube of KY. He slipped a bit on his finger and wondered how to get it into her butt hole. He thought that working it deep inside would ease any pain from the stretching his penis had done to it earlier. The only thing he could think to use was his cock so he covered it with the lubricant and pressed it against her hole.

Slowly, he inserted his penis into her hole. He kept telling himself that this wasn't breaking his promise, but rather helping her with the possible pain caused by his earlier mistake. Nevertheless, he was so excited about the prospects of helping her that his cock tingled with pleasure and anticipation.

He eased further and further into her anus with a rocking motion. A little in, a little out, further in, a bit out. Nothing was forced. He simply allowed his penis to naturally and with ease slide further and further inside her. Her hole was tight, far tighter than her pussy had been the previous weekend.