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Subject: Title story: "Father Knows Best" Author: Incestor 49944961
From: Family Man <familyincest@graffiti.net>
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Date: Wed, 27 Jul 2005 06:16:02 +0000
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Father Knows Best
The shrill ring of the phone yanked the Anderson's from their sleep. Jim rolled
over, with a mild groan that spoke of every one of his 50 years, and picked up
the alarm clock on his nightstand. He held it up so he could see the face in a
shaft of moonlight from the window. "It's 2 a.m.," he said irately. "Who would
be calling at this hour?"
The phone trilled again. "Well, we certainly won't find out just lying here,"
Margaret said. She got up and walked down to the hall phone.
Jim nestled back under the covers and had just about gotten back to sleep when
Margaret shook him. "Wake up, Jim! Get up! Oh, do get up, Jim!"
He opened his eyes slowly. "What is it?" he said. "It's Betty," Margaret
answered quickly, out of breath from her race up the stairs. "She wants you to
come pick her up."
"At this hour?" he asked, his voice rising in dismay. "She was supposed to spend
the night at the Thompsons, wasn't she? What's wrong? And why can't Ed Thompson
drive her home?" He sat up, a worried look crossing his brow. "Ed and Nancy did
come home after the play, didn't they? Is everything all right?"
"Yes, or, no, oh, I don't know," Margaret said. "All I know is Betty said she
needed to come home and she needed a ride and she sounded very upset. You've
got to go."
"Oh, all right," he sighed, getting out of bed and beginning to rummage through
his dresser. Margaret snapped at him: "What ARE you doing, Jim Anderson?"
"I'm getting dressed, of course," he replied. "Oh, don't bother," his wife said.
"Here's the keys, just go. I think she wants you to hurry."
"But I can't go out like this," Jim said, flinging his arms wide. He wore no
top, and the crotch of his pajama bottoms was so bare you could see the dark
outline of hair. A few wiry strands were showing through a gap between two of
the buttons. "Just throw on your raincoat," Margaret said. "And get going. Now!"
=== === === ===
Jim was still feeling a bit angry when he pulled up in front of the Thompsons'
house. He'd dropped off Betty just eight hours before, and she was supposed to
sleep over after spending the evening watching Ed and Nancy's two young
daughters. What was so all-fired important... Even before he could finish the
thought, Betty came flying out of the Thompsons' front door. She ran across the
lawn -- Jim noticed that she had no socks on, and only one shoe -- and jumped
into the car, quickly tossing her schoolbag to the floor and pulling the door
shut. Then she slumped back against the window, looking very small and frail on
the big, wide bench of the car's front seat.
Jim waited for her to say something, but heard only her quick, short breaths. He
snapped on the dome light and looked over. She looked flushed, and something
seemed wrong with her blouse. "Can we go, Father?" she asked, staring down at
the floor. "Can we just go?"
"But, Princess," he said, "what happened?" The anger was gone from his voice
now. She looked so beautiful in the light, the high cheekbones, the smooth skin
-- Margaret's had been like that, when she was young. "Just go, Father. Now.
Please?" Jim flipped off the light and drove away.
As the car rolled through the quiet streets, Jim occasionally looked over at his
daughter -- 14, now; it seemed such a short time ago she'd been a toddler.
Sometimes the glow of a streetlight made a halo out of her soft, silky brown
hair and cast the shadow of a firm young breast on the white cotton of her
blouse. It wasn't very big, but there was a definite shape to it, the gentle
slope down to the nipple, the sweet curve from there down to ... With a start,
Jim realized she wasn't wearing a bra. He shot a glance at the schoolbag she'd
taken along. There was a squarish outline on one side -- the textbooks, he
guessed, she was going to spend the night studying -- and an odd lump -- that
must be her other shoe, he figured -- and yes, just there, peeking out of one
corner of the overstuffed bag, a narrow band of white with a small, shiny circle
at the end. Her bra strap. "What the devil?" he thought to himself.
Just then, Betty began to speak. Her voice was flat, a monotone, except every so
often when she seemed to swallow a sob.
"I put the twins to bed at 9:30," she began, "just like Mrs. Thompson said. Then
I read for awhile, on the couch in the living room. I guess I got a little
sleepy -- it was all about cell division and stuff, kinda boring.
"I thought I'd put the radio on, to keep myself awake. But then I thought, no,
it'll wake the girls -- so I didn't. And then I guess I must've fallen asleep on
the couch. I don't know how long. I think I just drifted off..."
Jim glanced over. Princess was staring straight ahead, her eyes focused far
away. She was hugging herself tightly, and her legs were drawn up next to her on
the seat. She'd kicked off her other shoe. Even in the dim light, he could see
the shapely curve of her ankles, rising to her smooth young-girl knees. Her
plaid skirt had ridden up, and he could see several inches of milky white thigh.
"My little girl's grown up while I wasn't looking," he mused. "Maybe I should do
more looking."
Princess didn't seem to notice his staring, or the way he shifted in his seat.
She went on with her story.
"Then I dreamed -- or, I thought I was dreaming -- that Mr. and Mrs. Thompson
came home. I think I might have heard the garage door slam. But I didn't really
wake up. And then, I think I heard whispering, but I don't know what they said.
And then ... then..."
She swallowed hard and went on. "Then I dreamed I was taking my clothes off. It
seemed too chilly to do that, but I was. And then there were people grabbing at
me. DOING things - - And then I opened my eyes, and I looked down, and my blouse
was open, and my bra was off, and my skirt was up... up around my waist. And Mr.
Thompson, he was ... touching me ... down there ... and I said, 'Mr. Thompson,
what are you doing?' And he said, 'Relax, relax, sweetie. You'll like this. When
I saw you on the couch, those sweet legs all stretched out, I thought you looked
good enough to eat. So that's what I'm going to do.' And he ... um ... and, I
said, 'No! What do you mean? Mrs. Thompson won't...'
"But then I heard a noise behind me, and I looked, and it was Mrs. Thompson! And
she was naked! She was walking toward me, stumbling a little -- I think she was
drunk, she talked kinda funny, too, like you did that night when you and Mom had
the fight. And she said, 'Mrs. Thompson won't what, honey? Won't let him eat?
Hell, at least he's doing it at home, not out with some hooker. But if he's
gonna eat you, someone's damn sure gonna eat ME!'
"And then she ... she sat right on my face, and I could hardly breathe, and her
hairs were brushing my nose, and her ... her thing was on my mouth, and she was
saying 'Lick me! Lick me, honey, c'mon!'
"And Mr. Thompson, he started licking me ... there! And he put his tongue in me!
And I started to twist around, to get loose, and Mrs. Thompson, she fell off and
hit the floor. And Mr. Thompson, I think my knee hit him somewhere, 'cause he
jumped off me and then fell over Mrs. Thompson.
"And that's when I grabbed my stuff, and I buttoned up my top -- but I was in a
hurry, so I got some of the buttons wrong -- and I called and I told Mother and
then I told the Thompsons I wouldn't babysit for them ever again and if they
touched me again I'd call the police. But Mrs. Thompson, she just got sick all
over the floor and then crawled to the bathroom. And Mr. Thompson, he was
crouched over all funny and holding himself and moving real slow. And then you
came, and ... And that's all."
The young girl seemed to run out of words all at once. As she finished, she
began to come out of her daze and look around.
The car was parked now, but it wasn't in their neighborhood. It wasn't
ANYBODY'S neighborhood, she thought -- just a bunch of factories, all dark at
this hour. Even darker where they were; was the streetlight out? She looked
over at her father.
He was turned toward her. His raincoat had fallen open; she could just barely
make out the salt-and-pepper thatch of hair on his chest. His face was partly in
shadow, but he seemed to have an odd expression, one she'd never seen before.
"Why are we stopped, Father?"
"Because I think you need a talking to, young lady," he said.
"Can't we talk at home? In the morning? I'm tired."
"I don't think this can wait till morning. And I don't want your mother to hear
this. It could hurt her too much, what you did."
"But, Father, I didn't do anything wrong. It was the Thompsons. They did it to
me. And Mrs. Thompson is in the bridge club with Mother. What will happen next
time they meet?"
Jim cut in. "Are you sure you didn't do anything wrong?"
"Oh, no, Father! What do you mean? I was just on the couch..."
"On the couch, yes. And your blouse? Was it buttoned up to the top? Or maybe one
of the buttons was undone, like this?" He reached over and unbuttoned the top
button. "Or two?" He opened the second; she'd missed the third hole when she'd
hurriedly gotten dressed at the Thompsons', so her blouse fell open to the
navel. Jim could just see the brown aureole on her right breast and the nipple
pressing up against the cotton.
Princess pulled the blouse to cover herself, but Jim pulled it back -- so
quickly that the last two buttons popped out of their holes as well. "And your
skirt. Was it halfway up already, like it is now? Or even higher?" He pushed the
thick material up her thigh, exposing her white cotton panties.
"And you said he touched you. On your breasts, like this?" His left hand reached
across the seat and groped at her chest. He took her right nipple between his
fingers and squeezed, gently. "Did he do that?"
"N-no, Father, not there," Princess said, trembling. "He t- touched me..."
"Here?" Jim said, his right hand covering her crotch.
"Yes, there," she said, her voice barely a whisper.
"Like this?" Jim asked, his broad hand covering her mound and rubbing softly.
"Or like this?" He tucked his fingers around to her buttocks, his thumb stroking
the now-wet pussy lips through the soft material.
She could only sigh.
"No, I don't think so," Jim said. "I think he had your panties off." With both
his hands, he quickly pulled off her panties and tossed them aside. "I think
this is how he was touching you," her father said, one hand caressing the downy
hairs while the other moved back to her breasts. "And like this," he went on,
his middle finger slipping between her nether lips. "And this." The index finger
was in now, and he began to stroke, back and forth.
Princess's head was pressed back against the steamy glass of the window. A long,
low moan escaped her lips. Her arms flailed out against the heavy upholstery of
the seat. Jim continued to stroke, in and out, in and out. She grabbed at the
fingers caressing her breasts and brought them to her lips, sucking them in one
at a time, all the way to the base and back, licking at his palm. Then she moved
it back to her chest, glorying in the slick feel of the fingers sliding over her
now- erect nipples.
She reached out and clasped her father's head, entwining her fingers in his
hair. "Oh, that's right," Jim said. "That's right. He didn't just touch you."
And, with that, he bent forward, his tongue darting out. He licked slowly up and
down along the outside of her pussy, then just touching the tip of her clitoris
and moving back to the outer lips again. Her moaning grew deeper. "Ohhhh,
Godddd. Oh, Fathhher, yes! Yes! More!"
Jim buried his face in her pungent snatch, smearing himself with her juices as
he lapped at her cunt. His tongue darted in and out, in and out. Both his hands
were on her breasts now, kneading them. Her knees lifted up and she clenched his
head between her legs, holding him down with her hands. All at once she
stiffened and let out a shriek. Then her body shook, over and over in a rippling
series of contractions. Her legs unclenched and Jim sat up, his face covered in
sweat and his young daughter's juices.
"Oh, Father, Father, that was great, oh, Father," Princess murmured.
"I don't think we're done, young lady," he said. She looked over, uncertain.
He shucked off his raincoat. "You didn't tell me everything you saw, Princess.
You said Mrs. Thompson was naked. What about Mr. Thompson. Was he dressed?"
"No," she said quickly, "he wasn't."
"Could you see his penis?"
"Yes," she said.
"Was it straight and hard, or all soft and small?"
"Hard."
"And was it big? As big as this?" He pulled off his pajama bottoms and his cock
leaped out, seven inches long, thick and throbbing.
"Oh, no, not that big," his daughter said, and her eyes grew wide.
"Did he make you touch it? Like this?" He grasped her hand and led it to his
cock. She said nothing, but began to stroke it. After a few seconds he took her
hand away and got up on his knees on the bench seat. He pushed her back against
the window and pulled her legs toward him, sliding forward until he loomed over
her, his cock pointing stiff and straight.
"And did he do this?" he grunted, and moved forward, leaning over to lick and
nuzzle her breasts. His cock poked at her hot, moist cunt, but he didn't enter
at first. He rubbed it up and down the lips, sometimes riding up onto her patch
of fur. Then he began to tease the entrance of her pussy, pushing just the tip
of the head of his cock in and pulling back. "Please, please, please!" Princess
urged. "Please what, Princess?" he whispered. "Please fuck me. Oh please oh
please oh please please fuck me!"
He entered her. Even as wet as she was, her virginal pussy lips barely gave way.
He slipped into her slowly, gently, carefully, until he had a couple of inches
in. He could feel her maidenhead barring his way. He began to stroke back and
forth, stopping a few seconds on each downstroke, then pulling back every so
slowly, all the way out, pushing back in past those tight lips, in to the
maidenhead and hold, and back out...
"I want it all," Princess said in a deep, hoarse voice. "I want all your cock in
me. Fuck me all the way. Do your daughter!"
"It'll hurt, Princess," he said.
"I don't care! Oh, God, I don't care! Do it! Do it!"
He pulled out once more and came in again, fast this time, fast and hard. He
felt the impact of the maidenhead and then it gave way all at once and he
plunged in, deep, deeper than he'd ever been with a woman before. And, God, so
tight! It felt like a living glove. He could feel every beat of her heart
pulsing through the warm walls of her cunt, throbbing around his cock. She had
held her breath when he plunged; now she let it out in a long sigh and began to
puff -- huh, huh, huh, huh.
"Are you all right, Princess?" he asked, his face hovering over hers. At first
she said nothing. Then hers arms slid up his sweaty back and pulled his face
down to hers. They kissed, and her tongue snaked out into his mouth. He was
shocked: His little girl knew how to French kiss? But then her hips began to
move, up and down, riding on his cock, and he returned her kiss deeply as he
took up the rhythm.
She brought her feet up and locked her ankles above his butt, pulling him into
her deeper, harder. He kissed her lips, her face, her neck, then bent over and
licked her left ear. A shiver shook her body. "Oh, you liked that, did you?" he
said, but he didn't give her time to reply, covering her mouth with his again
and sticking his tongue deeply into her. Still his cock kept up its pace,
plunging up and down. He could hear the sloppy sounds of their juices, he could
feel her pubic bone pressed up against him on the downstrokes. His entire cock
was buried, and the feeling was incredible. He let out a low moan as he felt the
familiar sensation stirring in his balls, rising up his shaft.
"I'm coming, Princess! I'm coming!" He moved faster and faster, still feeling
her pussy grip his cock tightly every bit of the way. Just as he exploded in her
she began to buck wildly, almost tossing him loose. He fell upon her, thrusting
deeply as he felt wave upon wave of jism pulse through his cock. Her legs flew
up and she sighed, deeply.
They collapsed together, Jim rolling off toward the back of the seat while
Princess slid over to the front; he held her to keep her from falling.
For several minutes they just lay there, in each other's arms, until the chill
of the night air began to cool their sweaty bodies. Jim sat up, pulling Princess
up onto the seat next to him. They kissed again. Jim held her off, looking up
and down, admiring her young body. A smile came to him. She looked up to him.
"What is it?"
"Oh," he said, "nothing. I was just thinking, I hope you learned your
lesson tonight."
"What lesson was that?" she said, a smirk on her face.
"A very important one, young lady," he said, in mock sternness. "A very
important one: Father knows best."
"Mmmmmm," she answered. "Yes, he does." Then she smiled. "But I think I'll need
more lessons, Father."
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