My How They Grow Ch. 06

Most of the lights in the house were off except for the glow from the TV, and I sat silently bathing in its blue, flickering illumination, quietly watching my little girl remove her shoes and start towards the stairs. When she noticed the television was still on, she suddenly saw that I was still sitting there, waiting for her. She turned and walked towards me, softly, gracefully. She'd grown up so much. Like some kind of dancer or actress, with so much poise and youthful sensuality. With every step her young body seemed to flow, and as I watched her as if she was in slow motion, her hips swaying naturally, sexually from side to side, her breasts shifting gently under her top. The gleam from the television glittered off her earrings in the dark.

"Daddy," she admonished in hushed tones, "what are you doing? You didn't need to wait up for me!" She came around the corner of the couch and sat down at the opposite end from me.

I leaned back against the arm. Both of us brought our feet up onto the sofa so that they were almost touching, such that were facing each other like bookends.

"I know." I replied softly, as I pushed my feet out towards hers. She put both her feet up flat against mine. This was a game we'd played since she was 3. We'd push on each other's feet, sometimes like pressing on the gas pedal, sometimes like a kind of reverse-image thing, like where you'd take your hand and do hand push-ups on a mirror, except we did it with our feet. Suddenly my 18 year old daughter was a little girl again. We pushed absently back and forth on each other. "I can't help it." I explained.

"I'm OK out there you know?" she responded, trying to convince me, pushing hard with her right foot against mine. She had strong legs. A gymnast's legs. A woman's legs.

"I know," I swallowed. "But I'm still your Daddy, right?" I said my voice suddenly a little tight. There was a lump in my throat, you see. I'd spent eighteen years being the protector, the guy that checked for monsters under my little girl's bed at night. The one who made sure her red mittens were properly secured on her tiny hands as she left for school with the awful dangers of the cold winter always threatening to take her away from me. And now she was out there on her own with God knows who. There were a lot of monsters in the world. How does a parent stop fighting them, stop protecting the one thing he loves more than anything else in the universe?

Lynette's eyes met mine, sparkling, lively and comforting. "Always Daddy. Always and forever." I pushed back on her foot. "Are you OK?" she asked.

"I'm fine baby girl." I lied. My daughter sat up and crawled towards me on the couch, kind of kneeling and leaning her arms across my raised knees. She rested her chin on her forearms and looked down at me. God she was a pretty girl. "Did those boys really treat you alright tonight?" I pried.

My daughter laughed at me. "They were fine, Daddy. Perfect gentlemen." she added.

I smiled at her. "That's too bad!" I joked, my voice sarcastic.

Lynette's mouth tightened and her eyes widened and she stuck her chin out at me and smirked, slapping my knee a little. "I know, right? I wore my best 'come get me' top and they still behaved. What does a girl have to do?' she joked. "Anyway, I should go to bed. I'm all worn out!" she yawned. She stayed there for a second just leaning foreword against my shins, looking down at me. Despite my better sense, I couldn't once again help but be aware of the warm fullness of her breasts pressing against them.

"You do that," I agreed. "I'm going up in a minute."

"I love you, Daddy!" Lynette said as she finally sat back and lifted herself off the sofa.

"I love you too, Princess!" I replied as I watched my daughter walk towards the stairs, marveling at how perfect she was, at least to me.

I turned off the television and sat for a few moments in the darkness, listening to the sounds of the house. What a strange weekend it had been so far.

Sunday morning went by without anything unusual happening. My wife and I ate our breakfast under a canopy of silence. I still didn't know what the deal was with the sudden change in behavior from her. I was quietly terrified that she had somehow found out about my unforgivable dalliance with our own daughter and that she was trying to figure out how to deal with it. Little did I know that she was also battling her own guilt about having been seduced by our little temptress. She was also trembling internally at the thought of what a horrible mother she'd become, about what this said about her as a person. She felt weak, perverse. Maybe she was psychotic. Maybe she needed help. Over the past few months it was as if she had turned into a teenager again. She felt horny all the time and now she had crossed the line and attacked her own daughter. What was wrong with her?

Lynette came down as we were cleaning up, hair tousled and sleepy, in a pink velour robe. "Hi Daddy." she murmured drowsily, standing on tip toes to give me a kiss on the cheek. Her mother and she exchanged an odd glance. My wife's face was strained slightly, in a kind of stricken, pale way. My daughter was unreadable, her eyes darting back and forth across my wife's face before brushing by her to get to the cupboard. I had paused on my way out the door and Carrie realized I had seen the strange exchange.

"You go ahead and shower honey. Lynette and I can clean this up." my lovely wife offered, making a visible effort to recover a neutral expression.

I looked back and forth between them. Was I in deep shit? Had Lynette told Carrie what I'd done to her? Good God, was my marriage over? I tried to answer normally, but I don't think I answered coherently at all. Lord knows what my face looked like. I turned around and awkwardly left the room.

Lynette clattered around in the cupboard reaching for a bowl and a glass. She turned and brought them over and set them on the table with a clink, her eyes meeting her mother's. She turned again and went back to the counter to close the cupboard doors and the proceeded to open the drawer for a spoon. The tension was like some kind of heavy, soaked cotton sheet, draping coldly and wetly over everything in the kitchen.

"Did you have a good time last night?" my wife asked, after clearing her throat.

"Yeah, we went to see Superbad. It was really funny." Lynette replied, bringing her spoon to the table. She pulled out the chair and settled down into it, reaching over to get the cereal.

Carrie sat down across from her, fiddled with the edges of her own robe. There were another few moments of anxious silence before she tried again. "I'm sorry about yesterday, Lynette. I don't know what came over me," she ventured.

Lynette poured some milk on her Corn Flakes and replied "I think I came over you, Mom. Quite a few times as I recall," she added, being a smart-ass.

Carrie's face colored slightly as she remembered pushing her daughter's legs wide on the bed and lapping frantically at her horny, wet pink pussy as Lynette squealed and whimpered. Despite her guilt, a warm rush of arousal flooded down to her own center. She cursed herself as she felt her nipples begin to harden again.

"That's not funny, Lynette. We need to talk about this! I did a bad, bad thing yesterday. We both did. If your Dad ever found out about that, he'd...God...what have I done!" my wife sobbed, suddenly overcome with her grief and fear. She buried her face in her hands as fresh tears began to well in her eyes.

Lynette pulled her chair over towards her mother and put her hand on her covered thigh. "Mom, it's OK. I won't tell Dad anything. I shouldn't have done what I did either. I just -- I've noticed a lot lately that people look at me a lot. And I know what the guys want. They want what guys always want. But then some girls look at me too, and, I don't know -- that kind of gets me going, you know? That another girl would think about me like that? And then I see some of them look at you and I see you checking them out...I just wondered if you ever think about me like that. Anyway, Dad doesn't have to know what you did to me. I mean, it can be our little secret. It doesn't bother me that you think of me that way. I know you like looking at girls and that's okay. I do too. See, you're looking at my legs right now!" she added, as she noticed my wife's eyes looking toward the barely covered, shadowy "V" between her slightly spread thighs.

My wife looked up with a start, not even realizing what she'd been doing. Lynette continued. "I don't want things to change between us Mom. It doesn't have to. We don't ever have to do that again if you don't want to. But I just thought what happened yesterday was so sexy Mommy. I can't stop thinking about it. Have you been thinking about it?"

The truth was, Carrie could hardly think of anything else. The range of emotions she felt was unfathomable. Lust. Horror. Guilt. Sadness.

"Yes sweetheart, I've thought about it a lot but I can't...we can't ever do this again. I'm 38 years old and I'm your mother. This was wrong on so many levels, it's ridiculous. Please baby, you need to slow down too. I know that everything seems, I don't know, sexy to you right now..."

"Well, no Mom, not everything. I mean most people are gross. But you're like, totally hot!" my daughter interjected.

Carrie smiled in spite of herself at the compliment. "Well, thank you sweetie, but you get my point. We need to stop. And your Dad can never know about this. I don't know what he'd say but I'm so...I love him so much that I couldn't face him being repulsed by me."

"Mom, I understand but think about it. Was Dad repulsed when you were...you know, doing him under the table behind my back when we were in here yesterday morning?" my daughter asked.

Carrie was taken aback. We'd sidestepped this innuendo last evening, but clearly Lynette had been well aware that my wife was secretly doing something to me under the table the previous morning while my daughter stood 6 feet away washing dishes. Lynette had plainly noticed I had a 'problem' when I'd stood up to leave and must have put two and two together.

"Don't act so shocked Mom. You two looked so busted when I turned around. And by the way, I'm not deaf you know. I could hear some of what you were saying to him when you were...doing that!" my daughter continued.

Carrie looked down, only to see my daughter's legs, slightly more spread than before. She could now see that Lynette was wearing some pink cotton panties with little hearts all over them, and they were pulled tight clearly outlining her young pussy lips.

"I...I don't know what you mean," Carrie tried, sounding completely lame.

"Oh Mom, I know you guys were looking at my...my ass and I heard you telling Daddy to take a good look at it and you were...you know, 'doing it' to him while he watched. It's okay Mommy. I know what you were doing and I'm cool with it. I thought it was really kind of kinky!" Lynette explained. During this little monologue, Lynette had managed to spread her thighs just slightly more, aware that her mother's eyes were glued to her pussy. She began rubbing her mother's thigh softly back and forth.

Suddenly my wife pulled away, getting up from her chair. She cast a disbelieving, horrified look at her daughter.

"Lynette, that's enough!" she hissed. "This isn't even close to being normal! You need to stop this teasing shit! I'm your mother, Lynette, your MOTHER! I'm going upstairs to get dressed. I need to get out of here. I'm going over to Terri's for the afternoon!" With that, my wife turned and zipped out the door, leaving my young daughter stunned and suddenly ashamed.

Lynette finished her cereal and quietly cleaned up the dishes.

I had work to do in my office that afternoon. Lynette for her part was studying upstairs in her bedroom. She'd been in there since breakfast and I don't even think she realized I was still home.

I couldn't get a lot done, couldn't concentrate. I kept coming back to what a monster I was, even though I knew that somewhere along the line, my sweet little girl had become a horny little seductress. My wife certainly wasn't herself and seemed to be getting progressively angrier with each passing moment. When she left for Terri's, she was curt and abrupt and more or less stomped out the door. I pretty much figured I was dead. My marriage was over. Finito. I didn't think I could actually be sent to jail since Lynette was over eighteen, but I didn't know. Incest was against the law, wasn't it? What did they do to people like me?

I heard the home phone ring and picked it up. Lynette had her own line but you could switch between line 1 and 2 and when I picked up line 1, there was nothing there, so I clicked line 2. There was a male voice on the other end talking and against my better judgment I decided to listen in for a while.

The other boy was someone named Ryan, a name which I vaguely recognized as being Lynette's friend Alison's boyfriend. I wasn't sure what he was doing calling my daughter, who had her own boyfriends but, whatever. They made a lot of teenage small talk, joking around with each other. Then the conversation changed direction.

"So did you get the pics and vids I sent?" Ryan asked.

"Uh-huh. Does Alison know you sent them?" my daughter replied.

"No, of course not. She'd probably freak out if she knew I'd sent those to anyone! So...did you, uh, see anything you liked?" her 'friend' answered, his voice tainted with a casual arrogance.

"No. Nothing of interest! Why?" Lynette jabbed. I could almost hear the smirk on her face. I still didn't know specifically what they were talking about but clearly it was not meant to be a public thing. It sounded like Lynette's friend's boyfriend had sent some pictures to my daughter that her friend wouldn't have approved of. This sounded like something interesting, but I suddenly had a wave of guilt about listening in. Still, I couldn't put down the phone, plus hanging up would have caused a click that would have given me away. I was trapped, I told myself. And so I kept listening.

"Nothing of interest, huh? You lie. I know what you're like, Lynette. You love to flirt and tease, just like you did when Ali was out of the room last week. Remember? And you already told me that you knew about the size of my..." Ryan trailed off.

"Size of your what? Your ego?" Lynette replied, laughing. "It's huge! Biggest I've ever seen!" she continued, snickering playfully.

"Shut up!" Ryan laughed. "You know what I meant. Why would you bring it up if you didn't want to see it? Or were you just teasing me as well? And I bet it is the 'biggest' you've ever seen!" he added.

"You're awfully full of yourself aren't you?" my daughter answered, taunting him.

"Sure! Why not?" and then after a pause, "You could be full of me too sweetheart!" he drawled, drawing a disbelieving laugh from Lynette.

"Oh ha ha ha!" she responded laconically. "You're such a punny guy, Ryan. No wonder Ali stays with you. It must be your phenomenal wit!"

"Well, that's true but it's not my phenomenal wit she likes. C'mon Lynette. Admit it. You looked at it didn't you?" he teased. "I bet you've looked at all of them a lot! So...did you like them?"

The line was silent for a second. Then, "I'm looking at them right now," my daughter informed him, with a toying, seductive lilt to her tone.

'Looking at them now?' I thought. Was my daughter actually sitting up in her room looking at what I gathered were pictures of her best friend's boyfriend doing who knew what to his...Jesus! The audacity of this whole thing was astounding in so many ways. My daughter, who already had two boyfriends that I knew of, was now apparently also flirting with her best friend's guy. Plus, she was doing it while I was home and she was looking at what I could only assume were likely pornographic pictures of the guy's schlong. I should stop this, I reflected. What kind of father would allow this kind of thing? But then I also thought, 'the girl's eighteen years old. She's not a child anymore. This was a private conversation.' What was I doing listening to it?

"Oh you are, huh?" the boy replied, comprehension in his voice. "So, do you like what you see, Lynette?" he added.

"Maybe," she answered, coyly.

"Maybe? So...what are you doing while you're looking at them?" he ventured.

"Talking to you stupid!" she laughed, eliciting a frustrated tongue-click from her audience at the other end of the line.

"I bet." Ryan scoffed. "You know what I'd do if I were there, you little tease?" he pushed. "I'd pull my hard cock out of my pants and press it right up to your pretty little mouth!"

"Oh you would, would you?" said Lynette. I don't know how she sounded to Ryan but I could tell from, well, past experience that my daughter was getting just a little worked up. Her voice was a little shakier and I could swear I could hear that her breathing was a little more labored. "That's not a very polite thing to say to your girlfriend's best friend is it, Ryan? What would she say if she heard you talking to me like that?"

"I don't know. But I don't think you're a very polite girl are you Lynette? Who knows, maybe she'd like it. Maybe she'd like to watch me rub my big cock-head all over your face! We've talked about that sometimes while I fuck her, you know. It really seems to push her crank when I talk about wanting to fuck you! Maybe she'd even rub herself while you sucked the head of it and looked into her eyes and smiled. How about that Lynette? Would you like to lick and suck your best friend's boyfriend's prick right in front of her?"

I heard Lynette moan, then. It was subtle, just a small one, but it sent shivers up my spine. My own prick was almost completely hard and I reached down to squeeze it, feeling it up as I listened. I knew this was wrong, but I couldn't stop. I realized then that I didn't even want to!

His voice continued, "What was that, little tease? Was that a moan? Do you like the thought of watching Ali masturbate her little pussy because you're turning her on by sucking her guy's cock right in front of her?"

"Oh fuck! Yesss! Lynette whispered breathlessly into the phone, her voice rising into a little coo at the end. I could hear her panting a bit, like a runner who was into the early stages of a race. And I knew what my little girl was doing. She was frigging her pussy while looking at pictures of Ryan's large penis and listening to him telling her what he'd do to her with it.

"You would huh? You'd like to jack and suck my big prick right in front of your best friend, you little slut?"

"Oh God...oh yeah!" my baby moaned.

"And watch her finger her pussy? She'd get so hot watching you do it, Lynette. Did you watch the vid of her by herself? I bet you did, didn't you? You watched your best friend play with her hot little pussy, didn't you? Did you see her pump her fingers into it for you? It got you off didn't it? I bet it got you off hard!"

"Oh Jesus, oh shit! Oh yes!"

"You did, didn't you, you little slut! Oh my God, you like girls too don't you? I knew it! Ali turns you on doesn't she? I knew I saw you checking out her tight little body!" Ryan exclaimed, suddenly realizing the truth.

As for myself, all this was dumbfounding. My little girl was bisexual? No way! This guy had sent her pictures and videos of his girlfriend masturbating and Lynette had actually enjoyed them? My cock throbbed. I needed to pull it out, it was so strained. I unzipped my pants and reached in, wrapping my hand around it's throbbing, hot girth and pulled it free. I began to pump on it, feeling it swell and pulse, squeezing the rigid yet somehow pliant shaft. I waited for my daughter's response.

"It's...it's not like that!" Lynette yelped.

"Oh no, then what's it like Lynette? Why don't you put on her video right now?" Ryan asked, an order more than a question.