For a time that night, I really thought that I was going to be able to avoid doing what had become a Saturday night ritual for me. Instead of having four rum and cokes I had consumed a half dozen of them, and in addition had made them a bit stronger than usual, hoping that the effect would be to make me fall asleep faster.
I had actually dropped off for a few minutes, but woke up when the dream started. The dream was a recurring one, with the beginning of it rooted in fact and the rest purely fiction, and had started about a month ago.
There are two characters in the dream, a man and a woman. A balding widower in his mid-50's and his cherubic daughter who is almost 19, and the man is thinking things about his daughter that fathers simply should not think.
Those are the factual parts of the dream. Most of what would have happened in the dream had I not woken up were fantasy, and I know in my heart that even thinking such things are wrong but I can't seem to help myself these days.
I sat up on the bed, wide awake now, and I knew what was going to happen. It didn't HAVE to happen. I had many options. There was a cabinet of DVDs that I could use to help satisfy myself, but it wasn't the same.
The computer was there in the corner, and not only were there an endless supply of pictures and movies, but there were websites with stories about people like me and my daughter. Literotica has thousands of stories about fathers and daughters doing the most taboo things together, and all I had to do was sit down and pleasure myself while reading, but it wasn't the same.
So I found myself walking past the DVDs and the computer, on my way down the hall to my daughter Debbie's room, just as I had for the last four Saturday nights. My hand was turning the knob, and then I was stepping inside my daughter's room, closing the door quickly and quietly behind me.
I stood there silently for a moment, letting my eyes adjust to the near-darkness, with only the moonlight - rather bright tonight - and the digital clock providing illumination. Debbie is on her back in bed, and looking to be resting with her arms and legs akimbo as the sheet gently moved to reflect her breathing.
One step, a second step, and then a third step brought me to the edge of the bed. This was one of the most exciting parts to me, as I wondered what Debbie was wearing under the sheet. The first time she had been wearing a t-shirt, but the last three weeks she had been wearing a nightie.
Nothing fancy or anything, but it did reveal more than the t-shirts had, and when I had pulled the sheet down last week I saw that the nightie had ridden up almost to Debbie's waist, revealing my daughter's most private parts.
Debbie hadn't been wearing panties, and seeing the thick triangle of rich black hair that filled her delta made my dick painfully hard. It must have been a pathetic sight, my hand furiously jacking myself off as I stood leering down at Debbie's full breasts rising and falling under the nightie, the sound of skin rubbing skin echoing loudly in the otherwise quiet room.
She looked like an angel, sleeping so innocently while I hovered over her like a predator, trying not to let my breathing indicated how excited I was. This wasn't like literotica.
In the stories on Literotica, the fathers are usually handsome men hung like horses, and the girls are drop dead gorgeous with stunning figures. That's not us. Life isn't like Literotica, but this is much more interesting, or at least it is to me.
The girl under the sheet that's about to be pulled down is probably only beautiful to me. She's chubby, and I suspect to her dismay that facially she doesn't look like Angeline Jolie, instead resembling the young woman who starred in that TV show Ugly Betty.
She's wearing the nightie again, because I see her bare arm above the edge of the sheet that my fingers are getting close to. Even in the murky darkness I can see my fingers trembling as I lift the pink cotton sheet up and prepare to bring it down, praying that Debbie doesn't wake up.
What would I say? What if Debbie bolted upright and started screaming, horrified at the shadowy figure masturbating next to her bed? I couldn't even come up with anything resembling a plausible excuse for what I was doing. There are a million pictures of naked women on the Internet, yet I was risking what was left of my life to violate my daughter's privacy.
Right away I sensed something was different tonight, and as I peeled the sheet down I let out an involuntary gasp when I saw that my daughter was not wearing a t-shirt or the nightie. Debbie was naked.
Every inch of her Rubenesque figure was there, bathed in moonlight and posed like a model with her arms spread across the bed. Her breasts were even bigger than I had imagined, the size of her full globes impressive even with Debbie on her back. Her aureoles, not much larger than poker chips, looked lost on her massive tits, and her nipples stuck up like little bullets.
I noted that the fleshy craters of Debbie's armpits, exposed with her arms extended, were smooth hollows, unlike last week when dense peach fuzz coated her underarms. That had made me remember Debbie's mother back when she was her age, in her free spirited hippie days, although the extent of Debbie's body hair was considerably greater than her late mom's had been.
That bush. The lush black triangle was such a welcome sight, given the dominance of the waxed and shaved pubes that dominate the porn sites I visit, and I savored the sight of the bush that grew up to within a few inches of her belly button.
I set the sheet down lightly on Debbie's thighs and grabbed my boner, knowing that no matter how much I tried to make it last, it would end too soon. My thumb and index fingers went up and down what I used to think was a normal sized cock until I saw all of the pictures on the Internet of well hung guys, and as I fantasized about leaning down and sucking on Debbie's nipples I came.
The force of my orgasm made my knees buckle for a second while I filled my free palm with cum, and after I stopped ejaculating I reached over to the box of tissues on Debbie's night table and lifted one up as gently as I could so as not to disturb my daughter.
Debbie was still sleeping with her body remaining in that contorted pose as I wiped my hand clean. I usually exited the room right after cumming but I now found myself unable to walk away, apparently willing to risk being caught for the pleasure of seeing my plump princess in all her naked glory.
Her pussy. Her sweet opening lost in the jungle of lush pubic hair. Was she still pure? A virgin? Would it be possible in this day and age that a girl could be 18 and not yet had a man inside of her?
I suppose it would be possible in my daughter's case, because she hadn't had many boyfriends. Guys like the skinny chicks. That was what Debbie said one time when I brought the topic up. She said they like the pretty ones a lot more than the smart ones.
As Debbie's full globes continued to rise and fall with her breathing, I remembered one of the two boyfriends she had, at least the only two that I knew of. His name was Jeff and he was a tall and goofy guy with a high pitched voice.
I caught them on the side of the house once, him and Debbie. They didn't see me, but I saw them necking up a storm, and as I watched I remember this Jeff's hands groping Debbie's breasts through her t-shirt. The sight made me mad, but maybe it was more jealously than anything else because I wanted that hand to be mine. Did they ever sex? I didn't think so, but only they knew.
The only other guy, I'm not so sure about. His name was Tyler, and he was on the football team at school, not a star but a scrub. He was black, and although I claim to be enlightened and something like that shouldn't matter these days, to be perfectly honest it did.
I had asked Debbie about it once, in a roundabout way. How did you end up going out with him, I asked, and her answer was simple. He asked her out, and it wasn't like he had to bum-rush a line to get to her. Did they have sex? I hoped not.
Maybe he thought she would be easy pickings, so he set his sights on her. A lonely white girl with a big butt? I know it's stereotyping, but there are reasons for people and things becoming stereotyped. Anyway, it had been a couple of weeks until he had been around, and judging by Debbie's demeanor I assumed it was over.
Debbie stirred a bit, waking me out of the trance I was in, and when I was able to breathe again I saw that I was hard once more. I wanted to lean down a little and put my dick in Debbie's palm. How great it would be to have my dick enjoy the touch of a hand other than my own. Her hand - her mouth - her pussy.
I came again, only spurting a little seed this time although the feeling was just as good, and then decided that I had taken enough of a chance so I tiptoed out of the room. When I got back to my bedroom, I remembered that I had forgotten to put the sheet back over my daughter.
Too late now, I told myself before getting into bed. As I started to lay down, I felt something wet on the thigh of my pajamas. Apparently I hadn't caught all of that first monumental orgasm, and so I kicked off the soiled garment and slid under the sheet, hoping that between the booze and my orgasms, sleep would come quickly.
It didn't. A half hour later at I was still wide awake, flat on my back watching the shadows dance on the ceiling above me while the vision of my Debbie filled my mind. Wide awake, so when the door of my bedroom opened it was not a dream.
It was Debbie. She paused in the doorway for a second before taking a step inside and closing the door most of the way behind her. I feigned sleeping while I tried to figure out what was wrong, and in the time my eyes were closed Debbie was at the side of the bed. Naked, and although the room was fairly dark my eyes had adjusted well enough so that I could see quite well.
"Daddy?" Debbie whispered.
"Debbie?" I whispered back after figuring out that it was useless to pretend I was sleeping. "What's wrong?"
"How come - how come you don't touch me?"
