No More Monkeys...

Except that we both knew she really meant, "Dad, you need to get laid." So she wasn't totally innocent.

Still, I could hardly answer, "If only one of your sister's friends would offer, because I don't want to be the creepy Dad who propositions my daughter's friends..."

That would be an excellent way to make sure that they never came around any more, and the word would quickly get to Dulcie's pals, so as they became of age, they too would find somewhere else to work out and swim.

Of course, the unspoken completion of the unspoken thought was "...so they need to come right out and offer, discretely."

But none did. Not that winter, and not through spring, as Carolyn, Jeanie and their cohorts planned and enjoyed their prom. The girls and their dates rented an entire old motel for the after party, planning to stay up all night. I had to wait until the next day to find out how many succeeded, but while I waited, my cock was up all night after seeing these cheerleaders all dolled up in halter dresses or low cut gowns. Thinking about the horny football player dates, and what those man boys would be trying at the motel fuelled my frustration.

I tried watching television with Dulcie -- some mindless comedy with "family values" so as to distract me from those thoughts. Dulcie was a bit bummed by her big sister's adventure, and wanted consolation. As I sat on the couch, the bowl of popcorn between us, images of Jeanie sucking cock atop some bedspread already soiled by decades of stale cum , while another faceless jock pounded her doggy style kept battling with the movie's blandness. My cock was swollen, but Dulcie chattered aimlessly, not looking at my lap.

The movie ended around 10 and Dulcie bounced up. With a quick "Good night, dad," she flounced into the kitchen to assemble a snack. Her bed time routine was complex -- food, online chatting, video games, staying up late. She did all this with the bedroom door ajar -- a relic of the days when I first allowed the girls their own computer, my way of being reassured that they weren't getting into porn, or chatting with predators. Of course, since they now stayed up way later than me, they had all night to do whatever they wanted. But as long as I did not actually know what that was, I could remain in denial.

Maybe I had been in denial about Dulcie's charms prom night too. Unless she has developed a lot since, she was just as nubile, and already barely legal. Looking back, I am sure my eyes lingered as her ass twitched its way out of the room. At the time, I was just suddenly aware that my hand had fallen to my lap, and I was slowly caressing my engorged member through my pants. The images in my mind were of cheerleaders in prom dresses, not of Dulcie.

Afraid she might return to the living room for one last hug, which might prove awkward and embarrassing if she noticed my arousal, I shut off the TV and yelled, "I think I'll go up to my study for a while before heading to bed."

I hustled up the stairs and shut the door before Dulcie left the kitchen. Ignoring the lack of a lock on the door, my cock was out of my pants and in my hand instantly. To avoid thinking about Dulcie's fine young ass, I thought first of generic asses bouncing on the trampoline, and then returned to thinking about the cheerleaders at the prom. I particularly flooded my brain with thoughts of Jeanie, who had already been picked up by the limo when it came for Carolyn. I had just a brief glimpse of her tanning bed bronzed flesh, in the sleeveless shoulder less sapphire blue dress gathered just above her tits, which were firm enough to go braless.

By now, she would be dancing. The heat and the brushing of gauzy fabric against tender tips would have made her nipples hard, so that her date would be feasting on an incredible vision. His cock would be as hard as mine.

At that point, I think I had paused for a moment, my hand still around my cock as it shrank, jealousy interfering with fantasy. Some young ignorant jock would be impaling Jeanie's tight pussy with his weapon, not me. His seed would be milked from his loins by those perfect abs causing her inners walls to massage his shaft. Once I started picturing those images, my palm began sliding faster, driving me even closer to an explosion.

Suddenly, there was a tiny rapping sound on the door.

"Dad, are you okay? You sound like you're in pain." It was Dulcie. I was fortunate that she respected my privacy enough not to just barge in and begin CPR.

"Sorry, honey I didn't realize I was even grunting. Just working hard."

"Too hard, by the sounds of it, Dad," Dulcie said.

Did I detect a bit of emphasis on her saying "hard", and maybe a giggle afterwards?

"Do you want me to come in and help you?" she said before I recovered enough to respond.

"No, Dulcie, I'm almost done," I finally stammered, my cock only half deflated in my fist.

This time the giggle was undeniably real, before Dulcie spoke again.

"Well, as long as the hard part is finished, Dad. I wouldn't want you pulling a muscle trying to move a load by yourself."

My tender teen girl was standing so close I could hear her breathing. Realizing that only the thin door separated us made me picture her smallish but so round firm young breasts rising and falling. I shook that image out of my brain as soon as I realized that my shaft was swelling with a fresh surge of blood from thinking about what Dulcie's nipples might look like, rock hard, without a bra, wondering if she was dressed for bed in a thread bare T-shirt, or whether she still wore a bra, perhaps one of those lacy ones I had recently noticed in the laundry, the fabric tickling her nubs into even more arousal.

Fortunately, thoughts of nipples quickly switched my mind to recollections of that image of Jeanie's puffy areolae. I found myself wondering which punk was suckling them even at the prom -- though at that early hour, she was still probably dancing, unless her date had dragged her into a corner, with one hand cupping her firm young ass, the other cupping tit flesh. Surely it was too early in the evening for them to sneak outside...

"Dad, you're still grunting. Let me help you."

Dulcie's voice broke my concentration just as I was on the verge of exploding. I stood there in my study, my meat still rigid in my palm, jolted into realizing that my sweet young daughter was only about a foot away, separated from me by a thin hollow core door. I grasped the root of my shaft, right above where it met my groin, improvising a cock ring out of my fingers, to make sure that I did not accidentally groan even louder ejaculating before Dulcie moved further away.

"It's okay, dear, I'm almost finished." I managed to croak out a reply.

"But, you sound so out of breath, maybe I should just help you with the last bit - I could pull while you push." Real concern had flushed the playfulness out of her voice.

I could hear her breathing as the floorboard creaked, indicating she was moving closer to the door. My brain was overheating, trying to figure out how to convince her to stop, wanting not to think of her semi dressed state, but desperately driven to climax. Since thoughts of Dulcie in her night clothes made me feel creepy, I chose to chase those out of mind first. The simplest, most effective way was to go back to imagining Jeanie, and some lucky young stud -- who in my picture was just a body, head got off the frame- as he tweaked her nipples, her ripe tits pulled free from her dress, while she fished his already hard cock out of his pants and lowered her head to lick the very tip, which was gaping open like mine.

Before I realized what I was doing, I had started teasing my ball sac with the tip of my baby finger, sending shivers up my spine as my load begged to be released, but my grip still prevented that bursting forth, which I knew was likely to result in a verbalization. At least I seemed to be holding my breath as I did this, so Dulcie heard no more groaning.

Instead, she seemed even more worried. "Dad, did you just stop breathing? Answer me, or I'm calling 911 and coming in."

Her voice rose excitedly. This did not help at all, as I heard her rapid breathing. A picture of my baby, her heart beating fast, her ribcage heaving, pushing her young tits higher, sweat perhaps soaking her shirt, her nipples visible as shadows through the fabric flashed into my mind. To my horror, my cock surged back to full engorgement.

"Jeanie, Jeanie, Jeanie..." I muttered to myself, trying to summon those prom fantasies again, to wipe the taboo thoughts from my brain. That did nothing to reduce my fulsome erection, which was now so swollen that I could never remember it being such a handful.

I almost did not notice the door knob twisting. In a second, or less, the door would open, and an extremely awkward moment would occur. There was no way I had time to stuff my rigidity back into my pants -- if it would even fit. My daughter was about to be confronted by the simple fact that even middle aged widowers have sexual needs.

The rolling desk chair, shoved under the knob, might block the door, but might not. If I tried that, and while doing so, I accidentally released my grip on my root, Dulcie might enter and get a splat of seed right in the face. So that was out. Thinking of spewing semen on Dulcie should have deflated my cock, but instead, I felt my balls pressing their demands even more urgently, as an image of a pearl of glistening goo slowly dripping, dangling down from my Dulcie's erect nipple invaded my sick mind.

I quickly dropped into the chair and kicked it so that my back was facing the door. I shook the thoughts of Dulcie out of my brain, again using my imagination to replace them with Jeanie, recreating my earlier fantasy, but this time it was my cock she licked, and my seed shot out, catching her in exactly the same spots where I had pictured Dulcie being coated. The resulting cavalcade of images and emotions made it impossible for me to stuff my cock into my shorts, so I tried hiding it under my shirt tail in my lap, my fist still frantically restraining my orgasm.

"Dad, are you finished?"

Dulcie had opened the door just a crack. Without entering the room, she wouldn't be seeing more than my head and shoulders.

"Not quite, dear, but I'm not winded anymore. The heavy lifting is done."

"Well, if you're sure you don't need a hand..."

She seemed to linger in the doorway, having taken a half step closer, one foot into the room. I could see her reflection in the window glass, but it was impossible to make out her expression, or know just where she was looking. Her breathing was causing those perfect tits to rub her shirt. I knew her nipples must react to that, and was ashamed to find myself wondering whether her pussy was wet. All I could smell was her usual baby powder scent.

"Just go to bed, monkey," I croaked. "I'll try not to bounce on the bed too loudly, Daddy."

"Good girl." I was anxious for her to leave, but loved my daughter too much to be rude.

"If I am, just come and tell me no more monkeys bouncing on the bed, okay?"

This caused fresh images to invade my mind. I had never before recognized that a scantily clad Dulcie bouncing on her bed might even be sexier than cheerleaders on the trampoline, but could not deny that I was thinking of Dulcie's ass bouncing high, her panties sticking between her cheeks, her camel toe teasing me. Then I realized that I had no clue how she styled her pubic mound, if at all -- was she shaved, a landing strip, a heart shape, or natural? I knew from overhearing the girls chatter that most cheerleaders shaved or waxed, to avoid itchy sweat stained hairs down there, but until that prom night, I had always left my baby out of such thoughts.

"Well, good night then," Dulcie said quietly, perhaps disappointed that I had not continued the conversation, but it would have been simply impossible.

Desperate for the relief which awaited her departure, I was frozen, no breath available to choke out even a goodnight. As soon as I heard the door latch behind me, I leaned back further in my chair, and released my grasp on the base of my cock. As I reached for tissue to prevent spillage on my clothing, the goo gushed up my shaft without any further urging, bursting out of my balls like a dam had broken.

I tried to forget about Dulcie's interruption, and forced images of Jeanie forward in my mind, imagining again that her mouth was waiting for my seed, her perfect white teeth glistening with my offering, a droplet dangling from her throbbing lower lip...but what sent the shivers through my spine and made my shoulders shake was wondering whether my daughter was still standing just outside my door. Instead of heading immediately to her room like she had indicated, perhaps she had paused, just to make sure I really was okay, her hand lingering on the doorknob, ready to reopen it in an instant.

It was too late to worry about that risk now, as I milked the last of my semen up my spasming shaft and out the gaping hole in my cockhead with one hand, the other holding the tissue into which I pumped. Already, my hardness was dissipating. I wished it really was Jeanie with me, because, I thought, she would rub my last drops across her nipples; fuck my waning weapon with her tits, begging me to keep going.

"Get stiff enough to fuck my wet cunt," the imaginary Jeanie growled as she flicked her tongue across the sensitive frenulum linking cock head to shaft, and then took me back into her throat, sucking me with her lips tight around my root.

I felt blood surge back towards my groin, rejuvenating my erection more quickly than a middle aged widower could reasonably expect. A pause, a glance at the door, I reassured myself that Dulcie must have danced down the hallway on her tiny cheer babe feet while the sound of blood pounding in my ears had shut out the rest of the world. Even if I had uttered a peep, she had not responded, so I knew it was safe to continue dancing with my dreams.

The images became confused -- a kaleidoscope switching between Jeanie sucking her boyfriend in the car, my cock entering her mouth; her smiling up at me; my lipstick ringed meat in her fist; and her laying back, begging to be fucked. I could not tell whose prick I saw approaching her cleanly shaved honey pot as she drunkenly chanted "Give me a 'C'...give me an 'O'...." and giggled, as if forgetting the cheer to say "yeah, big boy, give me my 'O'..."

The hot blonde drunkenly passing out is not a common feature in most wet dreams, but that was what Jeanie did in my fantasy. I later overheard Carolyn laughing with another cheerleader about Jeanie apparently doing exactly that at about the precise moment she abandoned me with my fist full of cock. It seems that her date later bitched to his chums, after first trying to pretend that they had 'gone all the way.' Which he would have if she had not passed out.

"He came all over her naked belly, and when he woke her up back at the motel, she was all gross and sticky," I heard Caro say, but that was days later.

On prom night, I was like Jeanie's date -- left holding my meat waiting to climax. Unlike him, I did not have her flat athletic belly and gaping wet snatch to coat with my seed. All I had was my imagination, and its horrid insistence on thoughts of my sweet Dulcie creeping in.

Hopefully, she had gone down the hall, and snuggled in her bed by the time my explosion burst forth, because I am sure I involuntarily grunted as the thick stream splattered my leg. It was definitely Jeanie who I was thinking about as the spasms wracked my body and my hose softened in my palm. The thoughts of Dulcie were protective of her presumed innocence, after my climax.

"She'll be a woman soon enough," I heard myself mutter. In the meantime, I would appreciate Dulcie affectionately, just as I did Carolyn, about whom I had only fatherly thoughts.

The moments I sat there waiting for my heart to stop racing seemed like an eternity, though I am sure they were barely a minute, if that. Slowly I came back to reality, as if fog was lifting. I looked down into my lap to see my cock shrivelled, still encircled loosely by my fingers, the spunky tip dribbling its last droplets onto my thigh. For a second, I forgot how I ended up in this potentially compromising position, but then I felt the blood, freed from my erection, rushing to my cheeks, blushing at my near miss with Dulcie.

I quickly found my tissues and dabbed up the baby butter dappling my lap and legs. A quick glance confirmed that I had not sprayed onto the chair, desk or floor. As I fretted about Dulcie coming back to check up on me, I found myself wondering whether she was truly innocent. If so, how would any leftover evidence mean anything to my baby girl? She wasn't a slut like Jeanie or Carolyn's other team mates.

Dulcie did not knock on my door. After I made sure my clothing was neatly rearranged, I gently opened my door and crept down the hall to her room. As usual, the door was open a notch, which reminded me of how I used to peep in when the sisters were small and tell them "no more monkeys..."

That was not necessary on prom night. Dulcie was quietly curled up on her left side, hands tucked under her pillow, knees drawn towards her waist, no covers in honour of the warm spring night, wearing only her old T shirt and boy short style pink lace panties.

"Her ass is perfect," I thought before I banished such ideas from my fatherly head and instead wondered when she had started wearing sexy lingerie- my little tomboy was growing up emotionally as well as physically, I noticed. I knew that girls only wore sexy underwear if they at least hoped a boy might see them.

Stepping out of the doorway, I closed Dulcie's door, a silent recognition that she was no longer my little monkey. Rather than head to my bedroom I decided to return downstairs and fall asleep watching television, in the hopes that Carolyn would try sneaking in before dawn.

Fall asleep I did, but it was Dulcie who woke me up the next morning, banging around in the kitchen making brunch. Carolyn did not return until mid afternoon, and retreated immediately to her room, shut the blinds and slept around the clock. I never asked her about prom night, assuming only that very little sleeping went on. What little I learned was through overhearing comments, like Caro's cell phone chatter about Jeanie.

"She's SUCH a slut. Do you know what she did? When she exhausted her date, she stole mine, poured champagne on his lap, and started rubbing it to 'clean it'. I heard her saying. "Well, OF COURSE he got hard. Next thing I knew, she fished his cock out and sucked him off -- right there in front of me!"

I had to try to not get distracted by my excited organ, and stood silently, eavesdropping as Carolyn listened to whatever her friend replied and then spoke again.

"He came so hard that even that slut couldn't swallow it all - some of it dribbled down onto her naked tits." She giggled then, eyes closing as she thought about prom night. Were her nipples poking erectly against her T shirt, or was that just my overheated imagination?

"Nooooo...I was not even tempted to lick it off of her -- and no, I did not clean his cock afterwards either, you perv..."

For an instant, I wondered if she was talking to me, but quickly decided she was teasing whoever was on the phone. Her fingers definitely caressed her ripe young breast as she moaned softly. I realized that I was rubbing my cock inside my pants, enjoying the friction of the fabric on flesh as well as the voyeuristic thrills, unconcerned that it was my older daughter I was perving on.

I did not think about that taboo at the time, and later convinced myself that it was really Jeanie I was thinking about, not Caro. Her visual addition to my excitement was merely confirmation that, unlike Dulcie, she was no innocent. If I was perving on Caro, it was her fault. Not that I was perving on my daughter, no. My hand was fishing my cock out my fly because Jeanie was a slut, and I could still remember how her nipples felt rubbing against me. Carolyn's nipples would not feel the same, even if, at the moment I was peeping at her, they were rock hard and her thumbnail was flicking casually across the tip of the right one.