The Return

The Intimate Photo Session III: Return Mission

WARNING:

This story contains incest sex and reluctance. If you are no comfortable with this, please read no further! Also, for those familiar with the story previously, this one MAY NOT END the way you would expect nor want. Please consider NOT READING if you do not want to waste your time and energy on a nonsensical ending. I personally needed to finish the story and I chose this ending for my own personal pleasure. I warn you now to NOT READ because the ending is not completely satisfying.

Author's Note:

I have received very critical comments on part two of this series, mostly not so positive. It seems that the realism was sorely lacking and most readers were too hung up on the probabilities of the hostage exchange situation. Again, I do not work for the U.S. military and am not employed by the State Department, so my knowledge on such things are purely fictitious. Never claimed to be an expert. My main focus was in writing erotic fiction and for some, I succeeded somewhat. For most others, I failed miserably. For that, I do apologize and would beg you, dear readers, to once more suspend belief and just go with the story as it needs to be told. I thank you in advance for your brief attention and any comments you wish to leave behind!

*

For about a year now, I watched. No contact, no visits, no phone calls, nothing. I simply watched from afar. Their family had bloomed into something completely beautiful and normal and almost mundane to the casual observer. But I was proud and happy and I could see life had resumed its inexorable progress forward.

It seems that James was out of the Army now and he and his family lived in a nearby suburb. My hair had grown long and grey, as my beard grew out and wildly bushy. A simple glance in my direction would leave one to wonder if I were Arab in descent, or Israeli, or some form of Middle Eastern older man. I could say old man, for sure. I was not a young man any longer. Six long years in captivity tended to age a man, rob him of youth and innocence. And yet, I was far from innocent when I was put away in the sand box so many years ago. I thought I had paid my dues, cleansed my soul, washed away my sins. I certainly hoped so. I had been gone long enough and I had decided to finally make my presence known.

Heather was never alone. She was radiant and beautiful, of course, showing very little signs of motherhood upon her lithe form. Sure, she seemed fuller now, but she also beamed. She was a joy to watch from afar, walking with her daughter, playing in the park, going out to the movies or to dinner. She was the sun and the moon and the fuel for my existence.

Ironically, however, the first to discover me was her husband, James. Out of the Army now and sporting a heavier frame, he was elated, astonished, and shocked to see me near their house. Heather and their daughter were out and I thought it best to ease back into the family slowly.

"Dad? Is that—is that you?" He was stunned.

I nodded at him, a sad and knowing look in my eyes. He approached me and shook my hand. Then he hugged me tightly.

"What--? I don't understand. How long--?"

"I've been out for a little while now, but I didn't want any media attention. Kind of snuck back into the States. The British were able to parlay my release."

James had tears in his eyes as he took my arm to lead me to his house. "I understand. No media. Sure. I can respect that. But...why didn't you call us? We could have made arrangements. I mean—Heather and Carla are out right now—"

"Carla?" I asked. "Is that...your daughter's name?"

"Yes. She's a real beauty. You have to meet her. Tonight!"

"No, James. Too soon. Too much, too soon. I need time to clean up and—"

"Of course you do. Here, come inside."

"No. I am staying at a hotel nearby."

"But you don't have to. You can stay with us."

I shook my head. "Let's take things slowly. I've been gone a while and...well, Heather and Claire need time to adjust. Why don't we all plan to meet in the morning or afternoon tomorrow?"

James was nodding his head profusely. "Yes, of course, sir. That's probably best. I'll get Claire to come over and we'll have a lunch or dinner. Just the family."

"Sounds good to me." We shook hands again and I turned to leave.

"It's so good to see you alive and well, sir. I know Heather will be overjoyed. And your granddaughter is a real firecracker. She'll love you."

I waved at James and got into my car.

My next stop was to see my wife, Claire. She met me with a fierce hug, endless tears, and a barrage of questions that I couldn't possibly process all in one sitting. I told her about Brad's plan for a family dinner and she resigned herself to wait for the details. In the meantime, she held me close and cried into my shoulders for the better part of the night.

We did not make love, as it seemed too awkward for me. I was thin, nearly emaciated from lack of food and dehydration, and my muscles had atrophied to some degree. Being confined in a small, stone cell with nothing but wind and heat and dryness left one to waste away and wallow in misery. I was in no condition, both physically and emotionally. And Claire understood and was forgiving.

I decided not to shave my beard just yet. The shock of my look and demeanor was so total to those that knew me, but had become my comfort and solace. The beard was a mark of manhood in the culture I had been immersed in. It was the one thing I could cling to to signify that I was still alive and potent.

Apparently, James had not told Heather about who was coming to dinner. A total surprise. A total shock. When she greeted me in her living room, her mouth had dropped and tears had welled up instantly. She flew into my arms, crying, shaking, blubbering nonsensical words. Her mother looked on with folded hands and cried again. Even James could not stifle the tears. The only one confused was Carla, the little girl lost in the midst.

I held a finger to Heather's lips as she too assaulted me with a barrage of questions. "Please, maybe over dinner, we can talk then. For now, who is this beautiful little girl in front of me?"

"Oh my God, Dad, this is Carla. Or Carly. And she's—"

"I'm not a little girl," she said, stamping her foot down. "I'm a big girl."

"Yes you are, precious one."

Heather got down on her knees and took Carla's hand. "Honey, this is...this is my father, your grandfather. Why don't you come say hello?"

Tentatively, Carla stepped forward with her proffered hand and I bent at the waist to shake it. "Hello, sweet princess. You certainly are a big girl. How old are you now?"

"I'm six and a half."

"Six and a half? That's incredible. You're so tall and beautiful. I bet your mom and dad are so proud of you." My own tears could not be stopped now. Carla was a precious little doll, just like her mother.

Dinner was a whirlwind. The questions flew and I could barely understand nor answer quickly enough. Hassad, my cell mate, had helped with my release. The British Army had negotiated for their own people and had thrown me on the table for bargaining also. Monies were exchanged, weapons, and information. The British government flew me to Germany, then to London. I had been in a hospital for over a month and I still had a lot of weight to gain back.

We made eye contact often, Heather and I, and there seemed to be that secret language, unspoken, yet screaming across the table in silent plea. When can we talk? When can we meet? I need to be with you, to tell you everything, to hold you again. I need to know you still love me and feel the same way. Maybe not. Maybe not the same exact way, but maybe...

The next few days were a blur. Family and friends had to be told, little by little, and eventually the local media found out. Then the national media got wind of my release and return. Heather and I never found ourselves alone, despite several attempts. After two months, it finally died down. The American public is a fickle one and word about this Kardashian or that Lohan or the economy or the political arena once more dominated the headlines.

Claire was always by my side. She would not leave me alone, ever again, she had vowed. She feared that I could be kidnapped and, despite my reassurances to her, she remained resolutely by my side. Much to my comfort and my agony. Despite her new career as a real estate broker, Claire had requested and gotten clearance from her employer to go on a month-long sabbatical. It was unheard of, for sure, but she had successfully parlayed the re-emergence of her husband who had been held in captivity as equally unheard of. As a top performer, Claire had won out.

It wasn't for yet another month before I discovered that Claire had been skipping out on mandatory company meetings that she had been invited to in Chicago. Although she protested vehemently and even offered for me to join her, she finally capitulated and would take an extended weekend into Chicago to attend the meetings and seminars.

I would at last find alone time with Heather.

For their part, Heather and James had been somewhat inseparable too. There had seemed to grown a more solidified bond between them during my years in absence. Although it was completely understandable, it tugged at my heart strings. I was both proud and happy, yet conflicted, tormented, and jealous.

We agreed to meet at a local coffee and pastry shop in her local town. I was taken aback by this choice of a meeting place, but when Heather explained that she had to take her toddler to a play date, it seemed logical enough.

"So, how are you. Really." It was a simple enough question for her, but I hoped it spoke enough volumes to convey what I was getting at. How's your sex life, probably wasn't the best opening statement. Nor was, hey, baby, you look simply delicious and I want to fuck you right here and now over this coffee table. What do you say? Have another go at it with the old man?

Heather took her time to answer. She glanced at Carla often, as the little girl sat at a nearby table with her coloring book and a floppy-eared stuffed bunny as a companion. Heather took a sip of her steaming cup of coffee and glanced into my eyes, then back on Carla.

"She's beautiful, you know. Looks just like you."

Heather met my eyes again, almost challenging. Her eyes seemed to look defiant or angry, as if saying, did you want me to tell you that she's your daughter, Daddy? Are you here to make me admit it? Or do you doubt that and think James and I conceived our own baby?

"I'm not really sure what to say," Heather started. "It's been so long, so many years. A lot has happened."

My heart began to deflate rapidly. She was starting out like an ex-wife or ex-girlfriend trying to let an old flame down easily. It usually began with how wonderful the present is and the future, not highlighting how great things were in the past. "So it's been a long time for me, too. You can't possibly imagine the tortures or the indginities I suffered. But I'm really not here to discuss that or to compare pains with you."

Heather looked up at me, shocked at my passion.

I continued. "I wanted to see you. Alone. I wanted to see if...if things had changed with you. Nothing has changed for me. I still love you. I still want you. You're the only thing that kept me going in that place. I know I've said the same thing to your mother, but you have to know it's true with you. Yes, I love her dearly and will always love her, but my feelings for you have gone beyond a father-daughter relationship, s you must know. It's beyond mere man and wife. It's so far deeper than all of that."

"But I'm not your wife. I have a husband." Heather dropped to a whisper as she noticed a man and woman passing by with their cups of hot coffee. She glanced around to see if anyone could hear them and glanced at Carla. "I was sad. I was heartbroken when we lost you. James was back and for over a year we argued about how best to find you and bring you home. No one was helping us. Tensions were too high, as they always are, in the Middle East and no one in the government was willing to risk anything to find you and save you. The feeling was that you had made the decision on your own and had to deal with those consequences. It broke me. I was a mess. And James was there to pick up the pieces, my husband, my support. You have to understand that."

I heaved a long sigh and wiped my mouth. My throat was going dry despite the frothy liquid I sipped. "I guess I do understand that. What I don't understand is how you could cut me off, emotionally. I see the way you act and the way you look at me now. It's gone, what we had, isn't it? You no longer have those feelings for me. You've grown up and you've moved away. Here you are now, in peaceful, white suburbia, not a care in the world. You are safe and at peace. I see this and I understand."

"Dad, I—" She reached out across the table and touched my frail arm. I had started to regain my former weight back, but I was still weaker than before.

"Oh no, Heather. Please don't. I don't want your pity. I can't have your distance and your pity, too. Just say hello and goodbye and we'll go back to being what we were before. But I am glad you have a beautiful family now. I truly am happy for that." I stood to leave.

"Wait. Where are you going?"

"Home, I guess. I need to put the pieces of my life together and see if I can get my old job back. I have some gardening to do, clean up around the house." I sounded like an old man now.

"Wait, dad. Please." Heather stood up and finished her drink. She looked at Carla, then back at me. "I have to put her down for her afternoon nap. Why don't you just come over and I can make us lunch. Please."

I shrugged, looked at the tired little girl, and nodded. "I guess."

The drive to her new suburban house was quiet, albeit the chattering of a little girl in her booster seat. Carla was protesting her nap time, a daily ritual, but she could not seem to stifle the three or four yawns along the way.

I didn't know what to feel. Now we were going to be alone, but things had obviously changed between us. My heart was devastated, but my lust was starting to stir. I could see the object of my desire, for all these years, alone and in my grasp once more. She had no clue how the memory of her had fueled me on, had kept me going, had given me strength enough to survive.

By the time we were climbing out of her SUV, the afternoon sun was high overhead and the air had gotten much warmer. For me, the air had a sense of quiet electricity about it, like something would snap, crackle, or pop at any moment. I gingerly picked up Carla and carried her to her princess bedroom, all adorned with stuffed animals, pink, and lace. Perfect little girl's room.

Heather tucked her in and smiled at me as she led me back into her living room. She walked to the curtains and started to close the room-darkening Venetian blinds. "Too sunny," she murmured. The room was plunged into a dimness that whispered too many lies and secrets.

We stared at each other from across the room, each lost in thought, each wondering what the other was thinking. I glanced at the window and wondered why she had closed them. It was sunny, but not unpleasantly so. Was she trying to convey a wish for intimacy? Did she want to be alone with a dirty old man?

She bent down and reached for a table lamp next to the couch. She found my hand on her arm, gently holding her back from turning on the light.

"I've been stuck without sunlight for so long. The darkness has become an old friend for me now."

She stood up straight, slowly. My hand lingered on her arm and she did not shy away from my touch. Slowly, my hand traveled to her face and I caressed it gently. Heather closed her eyes momentarily. Her mouth opened, quivering. "Dad...we...can't..."

"Ssshhh," I said, then stepped in closer. We could hear each other's breathing and our hearts hammering. "I've missed you, Heather. I've missed you so much."

"I know...but..."

I put a finger on her lips to silence her. I did not want to hear her descent. I did not want to hear the rejection. I only wanted her. My hand traveled to behind her neck and I pulled her to me, gently at first, then when I felt some resistance, I stepped closer now, our bodies touching, our faces so close. I bent down and kissed her lips, her mouth slightly opened, yet not returning my kiss.

"Dad, please..." Heather whispered. "James will be home. Carly will wake up."

"No," I said. "He won't be home for a while and she is sound asleep. Please, baby, I need you. I've held off for so many months now."

My other hand came up now and cupped her breast through her blouse. Heather shut her eyes tightly and bent her head back as I attacked her neck with my mouth and tongue. She gasped lightly as my tongue slid down to the space just above and between her breasts. My hands found her buttons and, feeling too impatient, ripping her blouse open.

She gasped out loudly now, her eyes flying open in shock. "Dad! Please. No. We can't." She tried to close her blouse now, stepping back.

I grabbed her wrists and pulled them down and apart, then reached up and pulled her bra down, exposing her large, succulent, motherly breasts. My mouth watered instantly and I dove in to devour them. "Mmmmm!" I moaned. "Oh God, how I've missed these! I've missed you so much!" I groaned.

Heather used her hands to try to push at my shoulders but was no match for my strength or lust. I stood up from my attacks on her breasts and looked at her, wild-eyed, lust-crazed. I spun her around and pushed her onto the couch, kneeling in front of her.

"Dad, no...we can't...please...stop!" She had a look of pained resistance and anguish, seemingly confused with her desire for me and her desire to maintain some semblance of normalcy in her life. But I would have none of it.

She wore a brightly printed summer skirt, so it was an easy task to reach underneath and yank her white cotton panties off. The fabric easily tore at my assault and I pushed myself between her legs. Pushing her skirt up to her waist, I dove my head into her moist, hot pussy. She moaned out loud as my tongue hungrily devoured her succulent lips, slurping up her juices. She was wet, belying her protestations. She was wet and she wanted me!

My tongue dipped deeply, darting in and out of her liquid fire, causing her to moan and twist and protest and push. Her fingers intertwined into my scraggy hair and I felt the pressure of her pushing away and pulling me in, mirroring the internal battle she was having with herself.

I continued to slurp her up, sucking her tender lips into my groaning mouth and licking up her juices. My hands busily undid my jeans and released my straining cock. So free now. So ready. At long last.

By the time Heather was in the throes of her first climax, I was already moving her legs onto my shoulders and positioning my hardness at her entrance. Her eyes were closed and she was trembling with her orgasm when the first hint of my invasion roused her. Her eyes popped open and, in a panic, said, "Daddy, no! We can't! Not that! I can finish you off, but we can't--!"

I was in. I had plunged into her molten source, her secret center, once more inside of the most forbidden place for me. My cock slid in easily, into her tightness, her velvety walls gripping my blood-engorged cock. I twitched and flexed, causing her to gasp out.

"Dad, please," she pleaded with anguish and misery. She was trying to push me off of her, out of her. But she was pinned to the couch and I drove into her completely.

"No Heather! We can't stop. We have to do this. I need you. I have to have you!" I began to pump in and out of her furiously, slaking my eternal thirst. Once again I was where I belonged. All these years of waiting, wishing, dreaming, I was finally home.