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Subject: Title story: "Father Knows Best" Author: Incestor 59524558
From: Family Man <familyincest@graffiti.net>
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Date: Tue, 15 Nov 2005 03:02:55 +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."
End
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