Parking her car, she looked up at the big house that had once been her home. Today she buried her little brother and instead of sadness, she simply felt regret. If things had been different she could have been a better sister and friend to the man. So many things just got in the way. Jill left home at 18 for good and vowed she would never return. Now at the age of 31 she was back. She was a grown adult with a family of her own. If sometimes her children asked why she didn't speak to her father, she was able to tell them that sometimes things just happen and no one is to blame. Unfortunately, Jill felt like her father didn't see it like that.
Getting out of her car, she braced herself one last time before walking to the door and stepping inside. Everything looked the same. She couldn't understand how that could be. She was different, she looked different and acted different. She still chose to wear her hair long, almost to her waist. She still had a very trim, sexy figure, even after carrying two children, or maybe it was from running after two small children. She still looked more like her father than her mother. She still had blue eyes and full luscious lips and blond hair. Everything was the same and yet it was different. Like him, every thing was different and yet there he was, still sitting in his chair.
"Hi Daddy," she said quietly. He was a bear of a man, or a mountain of a man, as her mom use to say. Big and cuddly and solid and gruff when he was actually all soft inside. He'd be 53 years old now. Her brother, Sean, thought that he should have married years ago. Her father had constant female company and apparently he enjoyed very young women. Sean use to say how the "old man" was still a ladies man and he should settle down.
"Princess. Welcome home," he said in that gravelly voice that still sent shivers up her spine.
So many years had past since that night long ago. She'd been 18 and so sad and empty. Her mother, her wonderful mother had just died and Jack, her father was destroyed. She remembered holding him as he cried and how he held on to her. She didn't mean to fall asleep in his bed, but it just happened. She didn't mean to wake up in his bed and again, it just happened. She thought when her father started kissing her, that he was dreaming, that he thought she was her mother. She didn't know and once she realized, it was too late to stop. He had her on her back, her legs spread and his cock thrust inside her. Later on, when she was honest with herself, she realized she didn't want him to stop because nothing had ever felt so right.
She left the house the next day and never returned. For weeks she was terrified that she was pregnant. Her father called, left messages, had her brother call her. She wrote him when she was able to and told him she forgave him and that she just needed time. There just never seemed to be enough time to change how she felt. It wasn't that she felt like she had committed a great sin or anything, although part of her did. It was more that she felt like she had betrayed her mother and that was something she had trouble living with.
