The Sins of the Fathers Ch. 05

***** Writer's Note: Enjoy!

NO ONE WILL EVER KNOW

The night is dark, and full of dreams! Another dark night of the soul.

Nikki asked Jack if she could stay up and play Skyrim; it was the Role Playing Game she loved. She could spend hours on it neglecting to eat and forgetting the time. He wasn't hard to convince; but, like a good dad, he made her promise not to play past midnight. Working under the theory that, if I'm asleep then Nikki is safe from me, Jack had gone to bed early, finally falling into a fitful sleep lulled by the hauntingly evocative music of the Skyrim soundtrack coming from Nikki's room.

Hours later he woke disoriented, heart pounding and covered in cold sweat. Shaking his head to clear it, he fought to control his breathing. Bits and pieces started drifting back to him. You're okay! She's okay, too! It was a dream...only a dream. So dark...a room...and I'm standing there with my cock out looking at her... aw, shit!

A bleary-eyed Jack Grant squinted at the small clock beside his bed in the dark. The little red-lighted numbers told him it was two in the morning. He got out of bed naked, padding down the hall to get a glass of water. He never made it.

Standing in the doorway of her room in the dark once again, he remembered the line from a TV series that he and Nikki were following."The night is dark and full of terrors!"

His eyes were useless, so he simply shut them. With his eyes closed, he could focus on other senses. He stood there listening to her breathing. Soft, regular, gentle. She's asleep. Oh, sweet lord, I shouldn't be doing this...

Cursing his own weakness, he gingerly crept across the threshold only to trip over one of her boots and nearly fall. Automatically, his brain switched gears. Fuck, I can't see shit!

Reaching down, he blindly searched for the side of her bed to avoid waking her. Locating it, he touched the edge of Nikki's quilt, gently slipping his hand under it as he went to his knees. Scarcely breathing, he inched the hand further until he felt a small, soft furry arm. So small and soft and...and so... FURRY??!

He nearly jumped out of his skin before he realized what he had to be touching. That fucking stuffed teddy bear! When did you start sleeping with that thing again?

Jack had gotten the bear for Nikki four years earlier. It'd been a disastrous time in their lives; Jenn had just left and, like any fourteen-year-old, Nikki had been confused and heartbroken. Hell, they'd both been devastated. One night, right after the divorce, he'd been woken by the sound of crying coming down the hall from Nikki's bedroom, and he'd found her sobbing inconsolably.

Sitting down beside her on the bed, he asked, "Nikki? Sweetheart, what's wrong?"

Almost choking on her tears she fell into his arms, all the grief and fear gushing from her in bouts of heavy sighs. "Mom's gone and now she's never coming back." A sob wracked her. "And...and soon... it'll start...and the dark...."

Jack was clueless. "Nikki, what...what dark?"

"The storms, Daddy. The storms always come and bad things go bump, and there is thunder, and trees fall over, and windows shake, and the lights go out. Mom always came...because she knew I was scared."

"Sweetheart, I never knew. Damn it, your mom should have told me," he said bitterly.

Nikki back-pedaled in a panic, "No, no, no, Daddy! Don't blame her, never blame her; it was our secret. I asked her not to tell, 'cause I didn't want you to worry." She snuffled dejectedly. "No that's not true. I made her promise, because I didn't want you to think I was afraid of the dark. I was so ashamed." Tears welled in her eyes again. "And now, you're mad at Mom and it's my fault. All of it! Everything's my fault."

"Oh, Nikki, please don't think that. I said what I said, because I'm really pissed at myself--not your Mom."

"How can you be mad at yourself, Daddy? Mom's the one who left us." A question of pure innocence.

"Because, sometimes, your dad can be pretty dense," he answered honestly, "about a lot of things. But, one thing I know for sure: Nothing's your fault. In my book, Olivia Nicole Grant, you have no faults, you are practically perfect in every way."

"Am I?" You're just saying that because you are my dad!

"We just need to find a way to keep you safe. Something that will help you sleep." Ah, I know just the thing.

When Nikki got home from school the next day there was the grandest, biggest, most awesomely wonderful teddy bear in all of Oregon sitting on the couch of their living room. This bear didn't just set on the couch like some ordinary stuffed toy; this bear was enormous, definitely had a personality, and looked like he'd sat down lazily, crossed his legs, and draped one arm over the back of the couch. His huge eyes were the color of soft amber, his was soft and furry all over. Wearing nothing but a black velvet bow-tie, he sported a smile that DaVinci might have envied.

"Oh, my God!" Nikki had squealed as soon as she spotted him. "Oh, Daddy...Daddy! Where, when? Oh, my God! He's incredible!" Immediately demanded, "What's his name?"

Jack couldn't have been more pleased; it felt like he hadn't seen her happy in weeks. "Oh no, young lady. I may have found him; but, you gotta name him. He's yours."

Taking him at his word, she scrunched up her face concentrating. She approached the bear till they were almost nose to nose. Evidently, they were communing. Several seconds passed, then she smiled broadly and motioned towards the bear. "Daddy, allow me to introduce you to Sir Theodore Barrister."

Jack laughed out loud. "That's a hell of name, Nikki!"

"No, Daddy, it's a great name. Like you, he's a lawyer and he's gonna be my knight in shining armor to protect me from the dark." She'd run across the room and kissed Jack on the cheek. "Thank you, Daddy; you're my hero."

Nearly four long years. That was a long time ago. Sir Theodore Barrister, what a name! A damn teddy bear, Jack stirred from his reverie. Under the covers she was lying spooned to the bear. He tugged gently only to have her mutter something and turn slightly away, relinquishing her grip with her legs wrapped around its torso. It still lay against her shoulder. Jack rolled the bear away from her gently. With it gone, she lay on her back under the quilt. It was ideal for the game he had in mind. He slowly pulled back the cover baring her arm, breasts, and small extended hand.

He touched her hand. She moved a little. His hand moved slowly up her arm, searching for then finding the curve of a small breast. Jesus, no bra?

The backs of his fingers lay against the outside swell of a very young girl's breast. Immediately corrected himself, young woman's breast. He could feel the slight swelling of her nipple. Christ, do they pout even when she sleeps?

Curious, he ran his fingers down her side gently tracing her ribs in the pitch blackness, He could feel the goosebumps forming on her skin; felt the small waist again. He slightly lifted his hand and slowly skimmed across a perfect little tummy. He found her bellybutton in the dark and explored its outline. In her sleep, she trembled and mumbled something he couldn't quite understand. Murmuring once more, she brushed his hand away, shifting slightly on her bed.

Obsessed with the memory of her white cotton panties, he let his finger tips trace lower. No sign of any panties. Excited, Jack's senses came alive, goosebumps covering his own flesh. He took a deep breath and smelt her in the air. Does innocence actually have its own smell? His hand hovered above her mound. He felt the raw heat of her secret self. He blew gently thru pursed lips. He felt the breath on the back of his hand but he also felt the fine, downy hairs that covered her sex stand up. She held her breath for just a split second then relaxed in a sigh.

He jerked his hand away. Back from the flames, he thought in chagrin. Reaching down, he freed his cock from the confines of his boxers. Like a lonely man, in front of his computer, guiltily looking around in the dark and hoping his daughter doesn't catch him, his right hand wrapped around it. Slowly, he moved his hands. Clutching the tightening skin of his cock with his right hand, he turned his other over, palm down against her tummy. Cautiously, he moved it lower trying to picture what he was touching. He was lost in the sensation of his hand barely skimming over the fine hairs that covered her tummy when, suddenly, it was cupping the perfect eighteen-year-old pussy.

Jack forgot to breathe entirely. Face it, we live in a touchless society. Like all men my age and all good dads, I've spent years 'not touching' my daughter.

Ironically, the first touch of that little smoothe 'camel-toe' under his fingertips was the last straw. Every nerve came alive as his finger felt heat and moisture. His daughter's sex opened gently around the fingertip. Christ all mighty, it feels like the tip of my finger is being sucked on! I wonder what she tastes like?

He fought desperately to summon the resolve to pull back his hand, flashing on the image of a scorching hot stove-eye. He burned; his hand burned; his cock burned. And, my soul's definitely gonna burn.

With no conscious intent, he brought the tip of his finger to his lips. He touched it with his tongue. Salty, sweet, but not slippery. It was not unlike sampling a drop of wine. This vintage was definitely a great year. A year of innocence not quite a mature full robust taste. Maybe I should let it age a bit more.

Yet, even as his wit wrestled with his psyche, he gripped his growing need and squeezed it, groaning softly in the dark. His fears slowly retreated to whatever dark place our troublesome doubts are conveniently banished when they are exiled for speaking out.

Absurdly ironic how repressing his thoughts and feelings about touching her for all those years, swiftly became a force of rampant desire to end taboos about touching your daughter.

What remained was the overwhelming power of self-delusion. What remained was his raw want. No longer suppressing the taboo, suddenly touching Nikki was the most erotic thing he could imagine. It was also the most desirable. It's also the most freaking dangerous, Jack Grant, Attorney at the Law!

For a second he leaned back, resting on his legs, trying to listen to all the conflicting voices in his head. He was confused and erect, not the best combination for rational thought. His hand returned to his cock.

Well, there's no law against masturbating!

His other hand returned to her tummy. Fighting to control his needs, he withdrew it once again, ultimately aware of how very much his lust could dominate him. Slipping his hand under the cover, he found hers.

Holding hands with your daughter can't be wrong... can't be a sin. It just can't be. His lawyer's 'letter- of-the-law' mind quickly concurred, Even if it is, it's certainly not illegal.

He never let go of his cock, nor did he surrender her hand; instead, he smiled broadly like a Cheshire cat.

Hot damn! I have completely forgotten what it is like having a young woman sit next to you, holding your hand while you jerk off. It's almost innocent. Almost!

What was left of his morality attempted to protest, No! This is not just some 'young woman', she's your daughter; and you definitely shouldn't be doing this. It's not at all innocent!

He squelched the objection almost immediately with the rationale, Isn't it fascinating that 'I shouldn't be doing this' is such a powerful aphrodisiac? I just need to touch someone, and be touched.

Jesus Christ, how my mind flits about!

He felt exactly like a boy on his first date at the movies. Jesus, how fucking old am I? I' m an adult, not some teenage child with pimples and out-of-control hormones. Looking around in the dark, he shifted gently on the bed next to her. He lifted her hand and carefully wrapped it around his cock, holding his breath as he felt her warm palm and fingers fold gently around it. He sighed. That sigh took him back years as he closed his eyes and just relived the moment.

Nearly two decades ago, he'd sat in a darkened theatre with her mom. It had felt just like this. Well, maybe not 'just like this', because Jennifer was not 'his' daughter. But, like all girls, she was someone's daughter.

He smiled, just like that first real date, the small hand holding his cock didn't move. She gave no sign she knew what her 'date' was doing. Then he slowly closed his hand around hers, making her fist smaller around his need. He moaned, it felt almost like she'd voluntarily squeezed his cock. And, just like the first time Jennifer had ever touched him there, he held his breath. Partially because it was so goooood, yet half-terrified she would stop.

His breath ragged, Jack closed his eyes and watched as his moral compass spun inside his head.. Like Cap'n Jack Sparrow's, his didn't point North. It pointed at what he wanted most. His compass seemed to work a lot like a cock.

He cursed, telling his brain, Shut the fuck up!

He squeezed again. Fuck, this is hot! He tightened his hand around hers and slowly moved her hand down his cock, feeling more-than-seeing the head of his cock uncover as her hand stripped back the loose skin. He moved her hand back, covering the head again. And, slowly, again. When he released her hand it didn't fall away, almost as if she was knowingly holding her dad's cock in the dark.

Yet, something more primal insisted, You know you want to. She's asleep. No harm will come of this. All fathers must have needs like this.

Jack Grant took his daughter's hand in his again and almost repeated the words, No one will ever know! His hand moved hers up and down in the dark. Like any teenage girl, too embarrassed to admit she was allowing this to happen, his daughter lay silent. He grunted; and, as his need possessed him, he took her hand.

Locked in the hypnotic rhythm of a mantra, he used her hand for pleasure. No one will know! No one will ever know! No one....

Time and again he brought himself to the edge, stopping just short of the actual act. Not out of any moral sense but, rather, to prolong the event. I really tried not to, instantly became, I really tried not to, too quickly. He didn't want it to stop.

It's been over an hour since I started 'ravishing her hand', he gloated mentally.

He spent part of the time ready to jump up and bolt for the door if she even breathed wrong. He was determined not to get caught. No explanation on the planet could ever answer the, 'What are you doing, Daddy?' question.

He was close. He grunted, not in need but in pleasure, as the feelings built. He sensed himself drawing to center. The raw feelings in cock gradually obscured everything. The act, the implications, the dangers, everything but the feeling of need. There was a heaviness in that need that matched the heaviness in his cock. And he held on to that need, letting it drive him to move her hand faster and faster up-and-down his shaft.

He was dangerously close to crossing a critical line. He knew that this was called a 'Point of No Return', the 'locus penitentiae'. The ancient Romans had simply called it 'crossing the Rubicon', meaning that, once you'd crossed it, there was no going back.

A prudent voice cautioned, You could stop, now. No harm done. No one will ever know!

That voice for caution was not very loud. His lawyer's brain identified it as 'conscience'. Jack had always believed that guilty people, criminals and such, didn't seem to have consciences.

But, I do have a conscience! Well, at least that's some consolation. However, if it's equally true that no one will ever know....

His hand began moving hers in longer strokes, slowing and squeezing himself at the bottom of each stroke. The bed shook lightly, making little squeaks as it almost groaned under his weight and hers. An age-old sound of lovemaking, the metronome rhythm of a squeaking bed.

A daughter's bed squeaking in the dark. Nothing there to tickle an erotic imagination!

Guiding her small fist, he stroked himself, fantasizing about what she looked like laying there.

Petite, elfin, nubile? My beautiful Nikki. Oh, those nipples...

Predictably, fantasy wasn't enough. He wanted more. He desperately craved seeing her small body again. Jack Grant wanted to watch her 'masturbate' him.

Never one to put up with frustration, he let go of her hand, reaching out to turn on the small nightlight next to her bed. He almost had it on before suddenly realizing that, when he'd taken his hand away from hers to reach for the power cord in the darkness, she'd never released him. Nikki's hand was still firmly wrapped around his cock.

Alarmed, Jack froze on the spot and held his breath. Waited several seconds; but, she didn't stir.

Son-of -a-bitch! Is she asleep or not? Exhaling cautiously, he chanced a single whisper. "Are you awake, Nikki?"

Another eternity, but again no movement. Logically it wasn't possible; but, for Jack, it seemed that time had definitely slowed. He could feel his skin flush, feel his pulse where her hand was around him. He was almost ready to flip the light on when her small hand tightened gently on him again and squeezed.

Christ, I gotta get my shit together. If I keep this up, my imagination is gonna give me a fucking coronary!

Trying to sound calm, he asked again, "Baby, are you awake?" What the fuck? I don't think I've ever called her 'baby' before. Where the hell did that come from?

No answer, only silence.

The light-switch clicked in his hand, and the small bed was illuminated. It wasn't bright but it was enough. She lay there innocent, naked, eyes shut, and apparently fast asleep.

He looked down at her. She didn't say a word, her eyelids never fluttered; then, with no warning whatsoever, her hand started moving.

Adrenalin pumping and heart racing, Jack almost bolted; but, before he could run, her hand glided down the length of his cock, squeezed firmly at the base, and started back up. It was precisely how he'd done it when he'd held her hand.

She never looked up as her small hand moved faster, up and down his cock. If he moaned, she tightened her small fist; when he moaned louder, she slowed down. If he almost whimpered, she sped up again. Gradually she found the sweet spot, stroking him with a sense of what he liked. He shut his eyes, half-expecting to find his own hand there when he opened them. He couldn't keep his hips from moving.

So good! His lips silently formed the words. Each long stroke forced an involuntary grunt from him.

Jack was afraid if he opened his eyes, it would all disappear. That he'd find himself back in his bedroom alone with his own hand wrapped around his cock, fantasizing about his daughter.

But I've got to know; I must know! He opened his eyes and glanced down.

His eighteen-year-old daughter was gazing back up at him as her fist stroked him.

Oh Sweet Jesus! he damn-near said aloud.

She was looking him right in the eyes and beating his meat for him. Is my mind fucking with me?

It was simply too much for his mind to process. He bent in-half, grunted, and let go. The first shot surprised even him. It flew across the small bed and hit the wall behind his daughter's bed. Then he felt his balls lift in an after thought. The second and third shots hit the wall, too.