Lindsays Love Letters Ch 06

I wake up multiple times throughout the night, Lindsay's words repeating in my head like a skipping record. "If I wasn't pregnant before... I am now." I can see the sparkle in her eyes, the happiness, the glow. She's not afraid of it. She might not be trying to make it happen... I was the one who'd suggested the damn position, a move I am kicking myself in the ass for now as I stare at the ceiling in my bedroom... but she wasn't trying to not get pregnant either.

I remember her words from the past, and they haunt me just as much. "If I get pregnant, we'll deal with it." Deal with it how? I don't believe in abortions unless it's something like rape, or incest, or the woman's health, but this? What if the baby comes out deformed? What about birth defects? I don't want that. Not for Lindsay, not for myself, and certainly not for an innocent child born to a father and his own daughter.

"Daddy?" Lindsay asks, snuggling up against me, her furnace-like body warming me so much I don't need any part of the sheet. "You awake?"

"Yeah, baby," I say, and then wince.

"You okay?" She asks sleepily.

"Yeah," I sigh. "I... I'm just..."

Lindsay groans and then picks her head up from my shoulder, her hand going to my chest in the darkness. "What's wrong?"

"Are you pregnant?" I whisper.

Lindsay chuckles and then slides her head back into place. "I was just teasing, Daddy," she coos softly. "Role... playing."

Roleplaying? I ask myself. Is this Ogres and Goblins? I sigh and the stress melts away. Did she seriously have me up half the night... with roleplaying? I make a mental note to make sure she takes another pregnancy test, ASAP.

Morning comes, but before I can even get out of bed, Lindsay is jumping on next to me, and handing me another fresh test. She shows it to me, gives me a kiss, and then rolls off the bed, her ass now covered in a pair of spider-web undies with a matching bra.

I look at the test and see it's negative. I reach over, set it on the nightstand, and then get out of bed, thinking I need to apologize, once again, but Lindsay doesn't seem offended at all. It's as if she'd planned on taking another test all along, and my stressing about it was all for naught.

She reinforces this idea, with another blow job just seconds before we're ready to leave for work, swallowing my cum with a flourish and licking her lips afterward.

"You're amazing," I groan as I hurry to put myself away and zip myself back up.

"You taste amazing," Lindsay giggles, and then she sucks her lips quickly, swallows, and then gives me a sweet tender kiss that makes my cock want so much more, but it's time for work, and work waits for no man.

When we get home, Lindsay is bound and determined to get the rest of her BJ's in, and she sucks me off in the front room, again in the bedroom, and one last time in the kitchen, for good measure.

"There. I've beat her count, in less than twenty-four hours," Lindsay says as she kneels in the kitchen, using her finger to scrape errant globs of cum into her mouth. "Next time, I want you to cum on my face."

"I did," I say thoughtfully.

"No. Not in my mouth," Lindsay says. "Like, all over. All over my face."

"Are you sure?" I ask, wondering what's gotten into her.

"Yeah," Lindsay says, rocking backward to stand from kneeling. "A lot of people do it. They call it, getting a facial, and it's supposed to be good for you."

"Good?" I ask. "How?"

"I don't know," Lindsay says with a smile and she grabs her boobs and gives them a playful squeeze. "Good for the skin. Cum has a lot of vitamins and minerals in it. Sperm too."

"They should market it," I say, giving Lindsay a rude smile. "New cum vitamins! Everything you're little cum slut needs to grow!"

Lindsay smiles like she just won the spelling bee, and squeezes her boobs between her arms, making them bulge seductively. She turns around, just as I see the flash of a camera, and my focus immediately goes to the window in the kitchen where I see someone peeping.

"Mother fucker!" I shout, and I run for the front door, chasing the son-of-a-bitch down, but he's too fast, and I'm almost completely naked, save for my boxers but they do little good with my cock hanging out. I see the guy jump in an old beat-up station wagon across the street and he peels out, driving away at a high rate of speed.

"Who was it?" Lindsay asks when I get back inside the house.

"I think it was that asshole cop impersonator," I say.

"Do you think he saw us?" Lindsay asks.

"Me? Definitely. You... most likely. Both of us, in the act..." I look at the window, the angle, and where we were standing, and sigh. "Maybe not. If anything, he got a shot of my back, maybe a bit of your side, and maybe the back of you, afterward."

"Isn't that illegal?" Lindsay asks.

"Of course it is," I say, shaking my head. "But it's only illegal if you get caught. Tons of assholes run their entire lives that way."

"What are we going to do?" Lindsay asks me, a worried look on her face.

"I guess I'll text Linda again," I say, shaking my head.

"Oh my god! Weren't you supposed to go see her and Rafael?"

"No," I say, shaking my head again. "I forgot to tell you. She texted me and said Raphael was sick and she'd let me know when I could come talk to him."

"Oh," Lindsay says, looking relieved. "I thought, you might have missed that... while we were messing around."

"No," I say, shaking my head. "No... and to tell you the truth, it doesn't really seem like she wants him to get to know me. You know what I mean? I mean... if she really wanted me to talk to him, wouldn't she bring him with her? To the restaurant."

"Maybe," Lindsay says, and she walks to her bedroom and comes back out wearing a voluminous pink T-shirt and a pair of sexy red silk panties. "Unless she's nervous you'll get into a fight."

"A fight? Why would I want to get into a fight with him?"

"Not you," Lindsay says.

"Oh. Oh, I guess... yeah. Maybe he might be a bit of a hothead. Who knows what nonsense she's been filling his head with."

"So... does this mean I have to sleep in my own room tonight?" Lindsay asks.

I pull her close and give her a kiss on the top of her head. "No. It means we need to find a way to cover up these windows and set some traps."

"Bear traps," Lindsay says, smiling.

"No. I think those are illegal," I say informatively. "You set a bear trap for someone, and they lose an arm or a leg, you're responsible."

"Okay," Lindsay says, and she gives me a smile and then heads for the front room.

I smirk and go to grab the tape measure and a scratch pad. I've already got a plan swirling in my head.

For the rest of the week, I split my time between blocking out the windows, installing shadow and light boxes where I could, and pleasuring Lindsay in every way I could think of.

Bound and determined to take her mother's place in every way she can, Lindsay moves all of her clothing and personal belongings into my room. She takes the left-hand side of the dresser with the mirror on top. She adopts the clothing chest in the closet, the left-hand side of the closet which still has a few of her mother's items from almost twenty years ago, and more.

When Lindsay tells me her side of the bed is the "cum dump" I laugh, but instead of laughing back, she just raises an eyebrow at me and the left side of her mouth curls into a wicked smile.

It's the middle of the following week before something happens that brings the world crashing down on us. I'm almost into the driveway when I get a text from Linda and I almost crash the truck, because I'm so focused on reading the message.

"I cannot believe you've stooped to such a low degrade," I read, once I'm inside and have Lindsay sitting down as audience. "For someone your age, to be fucking some tart - some cunt the same age as your own daughter? You're a disgusting pig. A heathen. A bastard. What I ever saw in you, is beyond me. You can forget about seeing Raphael. He hates you, and so do I."

"So... I guess you won't be going to see him then," Lindsay says quietly.

"Whoever that guy was... he didn't see it was you," I say, putting a positive spin on things.

"But, he will," Lindsay says. "Unless there's some way we can convince Linda-"

"I could care less what that bitch thinks," I say, now angered by the whole thing. "Who the fuck does she think she is? Spying on us? Sending that two-bit piece of shit to look in our windows?"

Lindsay doesn't say anything. She doesn't have to. I can tell she agrees with everything I'm saying. Every single word.

"What do you think she's up to?" I ask, hoping Lindsay can help me think outside of the box. "What's her motivation?"

"She needs a place to stay," Lindsay says. "She said she wants to come back. I mean, if it weren't for me, she'd probably be in your bedroom redecorating."

"Like you are?" I ask, a wry smile on my face.

"Daddy," Lindsay says, her mouth falling open in disbelief. "Number one, I'm not off fucking every other guy in the twin lakes!"

"I know!" I say, trying to disarm the situation and make sure Lindsay knows I'm just joking, but she's fired up now.

"Number two, I'm not leaving. You'll have to pry my vagina off your cold dead cock before I leave my, Daddy."

"Gross," I say quickly, adopting one of her favorite phrases.

"And three, that bitch deserves nothing. She gets nothing. Nothing."

"Nothing. I got it," I say, nodding.

"So, either she needs a roof over her head... or... she wants that big hog of yours."

"Not that big," I say quickly.

"Big enough," Lindsay says, a rude smile crossing her lips. "I still can't take the whole thing."

"Pretty close," I say, returning the smile.

"I'll do it," Lindsay says, promisingly. "People grow on each other. Over time, we'll fit together like a jigsaw puzzle. My cock, and your P-" Lindsay bursts out laughing and so do I.

"My pussy?" I ask, laughing.

"Well, I guess. Mine is yours," she says, her eyes glittering. "It's always been yours."

I swallow the lump in my throat and pull her close, giving her another kiss on the top of the head. "I love you, sweetie."

"I love you too, Daddy," she says, and then she starts to dry, but she wipes the tears away quickly and sniffles back the sadness.

I don't say anything. She's gotten more emotional over the past week. In addition to everything else, she's finally started her period, and she's been in quite the mood.

"What about child support?" Lindsay asks, recovered enough to sound casual with her question.

"Could be," I say. "She'll need to prove to the court, and file paperwork and stuff like that. So far, I don't think she's done anything like that."

My phone vibrates, letting me know there's another text message and I read it out loud.

"You're a disgusting pervert. Is that girl even of legal age? Did you check before you stuck your dick in her? Or does that not matter, as long as she's young and innocent?"

"Jesus Christ," I say, shaking my head.

"If I had known this was how you were going to turn out, I would have never even involved myself with you. The thought of Lindsay staying there with you disgusts me. I demand that you tell her what's going on, right now, and ask her if she wants to stay with your disgusting, immature, child-fucking, loathsome self. If she wants to come stay with me, all she has to do is text me or call. I'll be right there."

I look up and see Lindsay smirking. "Well, Uh... Your egg donor is psychotic. She thinks I'm fucking one of your schoolmates, but really, it's me and you. You want to stay with me? Or go to wherever the egg donor is at?"

Lindsay stands up, pushes my seat back from the table, and climbs onto my lap, straddling me. She brings her mouth to mine, and my hands drop my phone, wrapping around her, and sliding up underneath her shirt. I grab her breasts and squeeze and she moans, and then I reach down and slide my hands up the cheeks of her ass, my fingers grabbing her soft globes underneath her shorts, and pulling her body open against her silk panties.

My phone beeps. Lindsay looks down and says, "What the fuck is your phone doing?"

She climbs off of me, reaches down, and picks up my phone. "No!" She shouts, and she lets go of it as if it's shocked her.

"What is it?" I ask, reaching for it, bound and determined to find out what's going on.

"It recorded something!" Lindsay says in a horrified tone. "It just sent a recording to Linda!"

"No it didn't," I say, but when I lift my phone up, it's recording another clip and I stop it, and then look at the messages. Sure enough, there's a thirty-second clip, from the viewpoint of the floor, looking straight up Lindsay's back, and I hit the little triangle to see exactly what got sent.

"Mmmm," Lindsay moans, and my hands slide up underneath her shirt. I can see my hands squeezing her breasts, and then I slide them down, under her legs, and into her shorts. My hands grab her ass, pulling her apart and she moans again. I can see the red silk panties peeking out from beneath her shorts, and the frayed end of a scraggly white string sticking out the side. It's the tampon string, I know, but the view is still enticing.

"Looks like she got an eye full," I say, and then I try to unsend it, but it doesn't work. I delete the video clip, but a moment later, my phone beeps again. "Here we go," I say, opening the messages.

"You're sick, perverted, and mentally unstable," Linda's message reads. I'm contesting the divorce decree, and I want child support for the entire eighteen years I raised Raphael all by myself."

I scoff. "She has gone crazy now, hasn't she?"

"Who is the little whore?" Linda continues, her text messages coming in faster now. "One of Lindsay's friends? You disgusting pedophile. If she's not old enough to consent, it's rape. That makes you a rapist too! You sick son-of-a-bitch! You fucking asshole! You cock-sucker!"

Lindsay quips, "I'm the cock-sucker, bitch."

I smile and continue reading. "You can't control yourself. I should have known. You never could. All I asked for was a fling. A one-time thing. And only because Roy would not stop asking. And you made it into an integral part of our sex life. That was you, you sick fuck. You're still just an immature little boy who has no idea what it means to be with a real woman. Disgusting. No wonder you need some little teenie bopper to fuck, so she can match your IQ. You're not even a real man. A real man wouldn't take advantage of a young girl like that. I hope you get AIDS. I hope you get HIV, Staphylococcus, and VD. I hope that bitch gets pregnant and you have to pay her child support too, and that way, you never have money for yourself. You'll die homeless, penniless, and-"

"Enough Daddy," Lindsay says, shaking her head. "I've heard enough. She's crazy."

"There's more," I say, just showing her the phone. The messages keep going, and going, and going, and going and going some more.

"Block her," Lindsay says flatly.

"I can't," I say, shaking my head. "It doesn't affect me. I don't care what she has to say, but... I'm not going to block her, in case... something happens."

"Like what?" Lindsay asks. "She dies? Good riddance." I can't believe Lindsay's words and the look on my face shows it. "What?" Lindsay asks. "If she dies, it's not like she's going to pick up her phone and say; Hey Magnus. Sorry, I put you through hell. Sorry, I fucked all those guys. Sorry, I left you and our daughter all on your own. Oh, and by the way, I just died."

I smirk, knowing she's right, but I'm still not ready to block her.

"Let me get the windows and doors done, and then we can discuss other ways of shielding ourselves from this craziness," I say.

Lindsay looks out the sliding glass door and freezes. "What if... we block everything out, but we leave one spot open?"

"What do you mean?" I ask, turning to look where Lindsay is looking.

"I have an idea," Lindsay says. "What if we show Linda, what we want her to see? Nothing else. She'll think she's on the right path... no reason to dig any further. In the meantime, we can figure out what's really going on."

"You don't think she wants child support?" I ask.

"No fucking way," Lindsay says. "She wants money...but not child support, and not half of whatever you got in the bank."

"I have a nice chunk of money," I say.

"Three thousand dollars?" Lindsay says. "Daddy, we're not rich. She's gotta know that. So what the fuck does she know, that we don't?"

"I have no idea," I say, glancing back at the sliding door. "So what are we doing with the door?"

"Not what we're doing with the door, but rather, what we're going to do, in front of the door."

"Won't her spy see us?" I ask incredulously.

"He'll see you... and that little tart you're fucking."

I raise an eyebrow at Lindsay and she smiles evilly. "Daddy. Trust me. This is the best idea, EVER."

I don't think so, when I walk out of the house the next morning to find all four tires on my truck, slashed.

"Lindsay! Hold on! Hold on!" I shout, finally getting her attention as she's driving away. I hurry around to the passenger side and jump into the cab, slamming the door behind me.

"You coming to work with me?" Lindsay asks.

"No. Look at my tires," I say, waving a hand in the general direction of my truck.

"Th- Are they flat?"

"Yeah," I say, gritting my teeth. "And I'll give you one guess who did it."

"That fucking bitch!" Lindsay says and I cannot help but agree. "What- What are we going to do?"

"I think for starters, I need to get to work. I'll deal with the tires afterward."

Lindsay pulls out onto the road, grumbling and calling her egg donor much worse names than that. I open up my phone and look at the messages. Strangely enough, they've stopped... or not strangely enough. It's a clear enough indication that she's the culprit, morphing from text messages to physical acts of sabotage.

Lindsay drops me off, promising to pick me up after work, and a few hours later, we're back on the road, headed home. "I cannot believe she did that," Lindsay says, her knuckles white on the steering wheel.

"Well... we don't know for sure that she was the one to do it," I say, having spent a good majority of the day thinking about it, dwelling on it, and thinking about how to prevent it from happening again.

"Really?" Lindsay says as she pulls back into the driveway and I see a huge section of the back of my truck spray painted with the words; "Child Molester". "Still think it's not her?" Lindsay asks.

I jump out of my truck and rush to the garage to grab paint thinner and a rag. Thankfully, the graffiti comes right off, but the words were not confined to the back tailgate. Pedophile is sprayed down the left side of my truck, showing it off to anyone and everyone who might drive by. "Fuck You!" is sprayed on the hood, and I can only smile when I see the smudge marks near the grill, where Linda... most likely Linda, touched the wet spray paint with her chest, subsequently painting her clothing at the same time. I chuckle, thinking of just how made she would be. Paint is a lot harder to get out of clothing than it is a vehicle.

Lindsay goes in the house and comes out a few minutes later, wearing an old school shirt that has a stain on it, and a pair of ratty blue jeans, and we proceed to clean the truck until it's spotless.

"I gotta get these tires done," I say, taking the pain thinner back to the garage and grabbing the jack from the back of the truck.

"Will they cover them?" Lindsay asks, knowing I always get the best tires and the replacement certificates.

"I don't know. Maybe, maybe not," I say, jacking the truck up and removing the first tire. "Grab me the jack stand," I ask as I load the tire into the back of Lindsay's truck.

"What are we going to do?"