A Daughter's Tale

But I was happy, and deeply, deeply pleased. I knew I would rest easy, and so would he.

It is late. I must sleep, though I do so with warmth in my heart and a smile on my lips.

Yours, Maggie

***

Dearest,

It is a new day.

I woke up to the sun shining through my window, blissfully happy. I cuddled in bed for a few minutes, thinking of Pa, and what the future holds. I confess it brought me such wild anticipation I could barely stay still. Such thoughts which came into my mind! I confess it makes me shy, and nervous, to write them down, but I will brave it nonetheless.

I have never known a man, but that doesn't seem to trouble my imagination, which runs rampant, seeking out what it wants. I remembered, in detail, the tantalizing sounds coming from Pa's room, while trying to envision it, and oh! Such pictures!

At first, I thought of the horses with their enormous cocks rearing up, curving upwards, while they snorted and pawed at the ground, approaching their mates at breeding season. These images then blended with thoughts of Pa, and it was too much! I caressed myself, imagining the hard, stiff member between his legs, imagining Pa approaching me, to mount me and breed me, in the same way, and I was nearly driven crazed with excitement.

I know it will not be long, of that I am sure. But he is shy, and will proceed slowly. I must keep my impulses in check, and not scare him away. I felt certain the best thing I could do was to make a small gesture, and so I cuddled in bed for a while thinking of a plan. An idea occurred to me, and then I got up and dressed.

I beamed a bright smile at him when I came into the kitchen, while tying my apron behind me. I could tell he was nervous, but only until he saw my smile, and then I saw his whole body relax. Not a word was spoken of the night before, and yet somehow, by not speaking of it, we were closer than ever, united in a new happiness words would have failed to express. I knew his eyes were on me, at all moments, entranced by my body. My every gesture seemed destined for him, as if we were touching each other from across the room. We spoke of nothing, of the animals, and the weather, as if they were the deepest words of love.

Only after breakfast, when the table was cleaned, did he draw me, laughing, onto his lap. I saw with approval that he was clean-shaven, and ran my fingertips across his chin.

"Now, Pa, I have chores to do!"

"As do I."

I bit my lip, and fluttered my eyelashes at him, and said, shyly, "Will you miss me?"

I felt, then, for the first time, the presence of that hard object, that precious thing, between his legs, that had taken over my every thought! It swelled up, and pushed into my bottom, and I believe my eyes widened, fearfully, at the size of it. But I smiled quickly, and wrapped my arms around his neck, and wriggled down upon it, lest he should worry that he had frightened me.

"Every minute, my little rose," he replied, with a squeeze.

I fixed his shirt for him, while continuing to wriggle on his lap, as he gazed upon me like a man hypnotized.

"Now Pa, I have a favor to ask of you."

"Anything, my darling Maggie."

"Today is the day for me to bathe. So I will ask you to give me the hour before supper, alone."

His prick—there is no other word for it! —jumped beneath me, but I made no sign, only looked at him questioningly.

"Of course. I will be making the rounds to the neighbors, in any event."

"Thank you, Pa. You are too sweet to me."

Then, our lips, met, for our first real kiss. Oh, it was heavenly! To be able to lavish on him the true expression of my adoration. The clock seemed to stop, and I do not know how long we stayed there, our lips hot and wet, kissing gently, but passionately, like brand new lovers. It makes me shaky just thinking about it!

We soon parted, however, with more kisses and hugs, and Pa left to ready the horses.

The day passed in a daze, I was so eager to put my plan in place. You may have guessed it. I felt certain Pa would return, in time for my bath, though of course he would not let me know. He would enter quietly through the back door. But the tub is in the room easily visible from his bedroom. If I made sure to leave the curtains open, he would see all. And, I guessed, he would slip out, and come back later as if he had just returned. Though perhaps, I reasoned, it would not come to that.

I was so excited, when the time came, I could barely get the water ready. My hands shook so badly. I was so aroused! I told you of my secret thoughts, and how dearly I wanted Pa to watch me. That is was about to happen was unbearably thrilling. It is one thing to imagine, another to do it!

The bath was ready, full to the brim with foam, and I stood naked underneath in my quilt, waiting. My lips broke into a smile of joy when I heard the catch of the door in the back, and I knew he was there. Was he as quiet as he might have been? Did he leave me a sign, to let me know he understood my plan? I do not know, but it pleased me to think he did.

My back was to him when I let the quilt drop. I shook out my hair, which felt so soft and lovely upon my skin. It is as rich a strawberry blond as yours and catches the light in tints of pink and gold. I can only imagine the sight that met his eyes—my bottom so round and pink and smooth, and naked as the day I was born! I spent a moment, caressing my breasts, and let out a loud sigh of contentment. I reached slowly for the combs, to pin up my hair, my breasts swaying just out of sight as I struggled to contain it.

How wicked of me, sister. I knew he would catch a glimpse of the valley between my legs as I stepped into the tub! I was aware of everything, sensitive to the slightest movements. He would see my voluptuous breasts, so firm and high, before I settled down into the foam. He would see the tips stiff and hard, jutting outwards with arousal, and know it was because of him.

Well. Such delicious sensations, I have never felt.

I soaked for a while, well hidden, though beneath the surface my hands were roaming over my body, pinching, caressing, touching. I am certain he could see my knees, shiny and wet, spread wide to the edges. My eyes were closed, and I felt sure I heard sounds coming from his room.

Once the foam settled down, I slowly sat up, and reached for the sponge. I was turned to the side, almost completely towards him, so my breasts, slippery and wet with suds, were clearly visible, as was the top of my belly. I lifted my arms to scrub my back, knowing how nice my breasts looked, as they caught the flames of the candle. They swayed and jiggled, so pretty and white. I ran the sponge over my taut belly, and down into the water and over my thighs and into the sweet, wet valley of my cunt. And I stayed there, pressing, biting my lip, and letting out chirps and moans of pleasure.

It is a strange thing. I do not know what pleased me more—the physical sensations from touching myself, shooting through my body from the tips of breasts and the sensitive bud down below, or the excitement in knowing it pleased him.

His name was always on my lips. I whispered, "Oh, Pa!" over and over, as I caressed my breasts, and raked the sponge over the tips, which I then followed with my fingertips. I pinched and pushed and squeezed my breasts together in full view of his gaze, gasping in delight.

I did not dare, this time, to bare myself completely to his gaze. I only stepped demurely out of the tub and showed him the sweet triangle of downy red hair for a moment before I slid the quilt over me. It was then I heard the catch of the door, and his footsteps departing.

I am getting tired. There is more to tell, but I must get to bed. It is late. I will write again tomorrow.

Love, Maggie

***

My Angel,

It is three days later. Forgive me for not writing, but I have been in such a swoon of happiness I came to bed every night ready for sweet slumber, which swept me away almost as soon as my head hit the pillow.

Let me journey back, to where I left off.

I was quite curious, that evening, to see what Pa would do.

When he returned, about an hour later, he only kissed me, and then busied himself with helping me set the table. I chatted to him about the neighbors, and the horses, and the barn, and was quite talkative. It wasn't until halfway through the meal, that he asked, casually, though with a twinkle in his eye, "Whether I had a nice bath?"

I think my cheeks dimpled, with my smile, and my face flushed, but our eyes were full of mirth as we exchanged a look.

He said, "You must be sure to let me know the next time."

And I said, "Of course, Pa."

Pa insisted on cleaning up, and then he built me a fire, which we needed along with the iron stove to keep warm. He bade me lie down and rest, while he made some tea and brought me a piece of cake. He fussed over me so, his eyes full of love and tenderness and sometimes awe. It was so nice, just like a loving husband should be. I am forever spoiled, for I would not expect anything less now, of any man.

That night, as I sat mending his shirts, he dozed on his chair.

Did I say Pa was not handsome? I was wrong. While he slept, sprawled out, his papers dropped on the floor, I was able to gaze at him to my heart's content.

His jaw is strong and forceful, his lips sensuous and full. His forehead is rather prominent, and his nose is crooked, but who expects perfection? It is more than made up for by his beautiful eyes.

I could not breathe, gazing at his chest, his waist, his thighs which were slightly spread. It is a farmer's body, rough-hewn and crude and tanned, even in winter. My gaze fixed on his calloused hands resting near the large bulge hidden underneath the buttons on his scratchy breeches . . . my heart beat so hard and loud in my chest, pumping with curiosity. I had a vision of myself walking over to him and sitting on the floor and laying my head on his lap and reaching up to touch and feel.

But I refrained. I told myself, after all, it is what married couples do. They save their pleasures for certain times, and do not maul themselves whenever the fancy strikes them.

I thought, with a surge of excitement, that Pa, simple as he is, shares a taste for secrecy and restraint. He liked teasing me, the other night, as I did, today.

So, when it came time, I only kissed him very lightly, and gently shook him awake. His eyes opened, and he smiled when he saw me.

"It is time for bed, Pa."

"Ah, Maggie, I'm sorry. All the riding today exhausted me."

My eyes sparkled at him.

"To be sure."

I put out the fire and Pa tended to the stove. We locked the doors and drew the windows and parted with a kiss in the hall.

"Goodnight, daughter."

"Goodnight, Pa."

It was with a very deep smile of pleasure that I was awoken, much later, by the tremors and feelings in my body, which had been aware of the sounds from Pa's room even before I was conscious of them. My breasts ached terribly, and I was in the very midst of pulsing waves of excitement coursing through my belly as opened my eyes.

From the intensity of Pa's groans, I knew my "plan" had been to his liking! There could be no other explanation for it. I knew he was thinking of me—of my rosy bottom and my large, jutting breasts! He was stroking himself, violently and loudly. Through his whines and groans, I could discern words, hissed out between clenched teeth.

"Maggie . . . Maggie . . . My little girl . . ."

"Show Pa, show your Pa! . . ."

Oh, he liked it, very much!

I heard the slapping sounds, I heard them become wet and slippery, as if he had dipped his hands in oil. I heard his grunts, which especially pleased me, as if torn from his throat. And this time, I could picture his prick, as thick and hard and big as I now knew it to be.

I was in heaven, even if it was also a torment. I pushed aside my blankets, roughly, and scooted onto my stomach. I raised my bottom high in the air and spread my thighs as I frantically pushed down my underclothes. I only wish Pa could have seen. I shoved my fingers into my mound, pressing and pressing, desperately, along with his grunts and groans.

Something seemed to overtake me, for I could not control myself. The wetness flowed unstopping down my thighs, and my hips jerked rhythmically against my fingers. I felt a tight, intense pleasure growing and gaining in strength, and it scared me, at first. It was so new and surprising, so much stronger than anything I had ever felt before. It was nature, taking its course.

He sounded ever more like an animal, which only spurred me on. His deep grunts pushed the wave of excitement tightening in my belly to greater and greater heights until I was gasping and moaning myself, and making tiny squeals into my pillow. I am sure Pa could hear me!

I heard him hiss, "Maggie, be a good girl for Pa . . . "

Oh, sister, how can we take it? This cannot be sustained for long.

I felt shame, at first, but no guilt. It was only natural, from what was happening to my body for the very first time, to be a little shy of him hearing and knowing! But the pleasure was so great I soon lost my inhibition, and then my moans grew almost as loud as his.

The pleasure seemed to reach a peak, and I felt like I was going to burst into pieces! I shrieked, loudly, as the explosion in my belly began and did not stop. It moved throughout my body, making me flail on the bed, my hips jerking uncontrollably, as ecstasy shook me from head to toe! At the same time, I heard Pa cry out, and I knew he was feeling it, too. He went silent, except for coarse, animal grunts, which only made me cream all over my hand once again.

I was dazed, astounded, and lay on my bed, eyes open, mouthing "Pa, Pa, I love you, Pa," before immediately falling into a deep sleep.

And now, it is Saturday, and things have not changed too much from what I have already written. Three times now I have bathed in front of him, and for three nights we have indulged our secret ritual. We speak not a word of any of it during the day or evening. Only in the mornings do we kiss, and laugh, and tease each other openly, before we get busy with our work. Then, I can tell you, our love flows freely, and he touches me, and I sit on his lap and tweak his chin while I wriggle on his cock, which only makes us more eager for our next encounter.

I told you I am blissful, and it's true, yet I know, now, even greater bliss awaits us. I have had only a very small taste of it, and I confess I have become impatient for more.

Tomorrow is church day, and we must go. We will make an appearance as a good father and daughter and do our duty to the town. I cannot bear Pa's mind being uneasy about that, though I dread his susceptibility to the pastor's machinations.

Dear sister, I feel I have been neglecting you, so taken am I with the joys of "married" life. I adore Pa more and more every day. I don't have time to express the full extent of it—how much I think about him, and lust for him, and crave him, and live for our moments together. But you are always in my heart, and the only thing I love more than being with Pa is writing to you.

So until tomorrow, know that I am always and forever, your Maggie

***

Dearest,

All is well. I begin this to you on Sunday evening calm and happy.

I dressed for church in my simplest frock and bound my hair tightly. I was cheerful as I served Pa his breakfast, prattling on about my plans for improving the house, and getting him to talk about the coming spring. I wanted to keep his mind on us and the future. But he was tense, I could tell, and we did not cuddle and coo as usual. He wrung his hands and was short with me as we left the house.

"Forgive me, Pa, I was dawdling," I said, eager to placate him.

When we got to the church, I made a point of smiling and chatting with all our neighbors, and telling them about Pa's new barn, and how he was looking to sell a horse, and that he'd be hiring more boys in the spring and summer. I volunteered to help with the charity dance and gave out some of my homemade preserves.

"Well thank you, Maggie, that is downright neighborly of you. Tell your Pa we'll be around to look at the horse. Matthew is such a good, hardworking man. Goodbye, now."

Of course, it was all part of a plan. I'd make good with the neighbors, while reminding them that Pa owns the most prosperous farm in the area. That's probably why they're so catty with me, anyway. But it was all for Pa, to put his mind at ease.

And then the pastor started speaking.

The old fraud gave a particularly nasty sermon, long and fiery. He was in a pet, because today was February 14th—Valentine's Day. Remember how he used to go on about it? The Heathen's Holiday! Why, it's his favorite day of the year! What better day to rant and rave about the immoral world beyond our "chosen" few? The indecency, the rot, the sin and perversion!

He gave us a history lesson. How the PAGANS made it an excuse of "wanton fornication" with "random partners," and then continued by shameless, lascivious poets and artists as a frivolous game, toying with one of God's most important covens. The joining of a man and woman is meant to bond man and woman together as soldiers in God's Great War on Satan, and nothing more!

I am ashamed to say that his words affected me, against my will. They seemed to reverberate in my bones, whether I wanted them to or not.

Pa sat quietly, throughout. I could not read his thoughts, until the end, when the pastor steamed right ahead into the topic of the "female race," the source of it all! It is our fault. WOMAN. We are the cause of the fallen world. We are the curse and the temptation. We are deceitful, suspicious, and weak.

I was so surprised when in the middle of it, Pa shifted in the pew, and moved his coat, so that it covered our laps. And then he reached underneath it and took my hand. He held it for the rest of the time, firm and strong!

On the way home, Pa was quiet, and thoughtful, but not depressed. In fact, he seemed happier than ever. When we made the turn down our road, and were finally alone, he smiled and drew me close to him, and stroked my hair, and gave me a few kisses.

Once we got inside, Pa built up the fire, and I went into my room to change out of my church clothes. And then, I did something I had not expected. I was dressed only in my shift, and bare footed, and combing out my hair, when I called for Pa, and asked him to come in.

He obliged and stood at the door holding his hat. I smiled at him, then walked over and stood close to him, and took his hand.

"Did you like the sermon today, Pa?"

"No, Maggie, I did not."

"Why?"

His gaze roamed over my body as he replied.

"Because no man should speak of women that way."

"Even the pastor?"

"Even him."

"But it isn't the first time. He's spoken like that before."

Pa was struggling to articulate thoughts which I'm sure were new, even to him. I could see him, looking at me, his desire growing, his eyes riveted on my beauty.

He only said, desperately, "I loved your Ma. I loved Sarah. I love you."

"Are you sure, Pa?"

"I . . ."

"Is this wrong?" I said, seductively, as I ran my hands up to my breasts, and caressed them, and stroked my nipples.

"Maggie . . . " he moaned.

"Is it, Pa? Or is the pastor wrong?"

I was forcing him to choose, once and for all. I didn't want to go through this every week. I didn't want Pa to keep suffering. But he seemed unable to move or speak.

"You must make a choice. You may stay, or go," I said, nodding towards the door.

I then raised my arms and pulled my shift up and over my shoulders. Underneath I was completely bare. I shook out my hair, watching my breasts sway, and proceeded to caress myself, running my hands over my body, and turning this way and that. He was mere inches from me.