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Church is no place to be thinking about sex, even less so incest, especially during the Christmas service, just four rows back from the altar, where the elderly Parish Priest is so fervently extolling the memory of the last supper.
“Take this all of you and eat it. This is my body which will be given up for you.”
I should be contemplating the significance of the words, but I find myself glancing at my daughter’s pretty face, the soft curve of those youthful breasts accentuated by her gentle breathing, as she kneels beside me, hands clasped together in erstwhile prayer.
“Take this all of you and drink from it. This is the cup of my blood, the new and everlasting covenant.”
I find myself concentrating not on the Eucharistic prayer now, but rather, Lucy’s slim hips and radiating vitality. As she turns momentarily to smile at me, some part of us touches and recognises the far-flung possibilities.
Let us back-up a lifetime.
Lucy and I have always been close – more in what has been unsaid rather than spoken aloud. She is a soul-mate. Even though she is eighteen now, the special bond we shared during her childhood has not slackened off. Rather, it has evolved into something almost tangible.
An only child, she was but three years old when my wife died. Her very existence eased the pain of Nadia’s passing and provided the focus I needed to overcome my grief. In a decade and a half not a solitary impure thought has crossed my mind so far as Lucy is concerned.
But then there was tonight.
Just an hour before we had to be at Our lady of The Rosary I picked Lucy up from a girlfriend’s place where she had spent Christmas Eve, quite evidently quaffing the occasional alcoholic beverage. I say “quite obviously” on account of the fact she was still giggly and overly talkative. – traits she rarely exhibits.
It was as she sat in the car chatting animatedly that I realised how much I loved her and how much – to my on-going discredit – I wanted her in ways other than those might be termed appropriate.
“I love you dad,” She had said, reaching across and holding my hand. In that instant, our destinies overlapped.
Even as the Priest intones the words, “Father, calling to mind the death your son endured for our salvation…..” the images begin to form.
Lucy stands at the foot of her bed seemingly unfazed by my close proximity. Removing her school back-pack she tosses it on the covers. I notice her tanned arms and legs as she turns her back to me momentarily, retrieving a purse from the pocket of her school-dress, that she then places on her work-desk nearby. I cannot fail to notice either the soft curves of her shapely bottom that are so clearly delineated for an instant.
I seat myself on the edge of the bed and place my hand just above her hips. She still has her back to me even as I begin to smooth over those gentle rearward curves. She knows instinctively what pleases me and takes a step backwards so that I may better feel-up my field of dreams.
“You are so beautiful Lucy,” I mutter, sliding both hands now across her taut little rear and cupping both cheeks, feeling plainly her panties beneath the school-dress. Holding her around the hips I tug that warm body towards me until she is sitting on my lap.
Slipping my arms around her waist, my hands wander northwards searching out the illicit warmth of her teenage breasts. She makes no move to stop me, simply gasping softly as I begin to fondle those delicate mounds. I know she is watching as I begin undoing the top few buttons of her dress.
“Grant that we who are nourished by his body and blood…:”
The image fades and once again I glance down at the sweet-smelling youthful form alongside me. I must suppress these thoughts at all cost.
“….the apostles, the martyrs and all your saints upon whose constant intercession we rely for help.”
My hand slips into the newly created air-space. I relish the contact with the frilly material, it represents the ultimate feminine tactility. Again the lightest of gasps as I cup her breasts through the yielding material, squeezing and caressing the softness beneath. Even as an embryonic moan rises in her throat, I incline my face to her shoulder and nuzzle her lovingly. Kissing her at the base of the neck, I feel her wriggle slightly on my lap, the warmth of her young body addling my senses. I slip a hand inside her bra cup and grasp what nature has been working so efficiently upon these last six years or so.
“Oh dad,” she whispers, bringing her own hands up to cover mine, wholly complicit yet fully in acceptance of my actions. It requires a minimum of sensory recognition to acknowledge a hardening of her nipples within their padded rayon creche. My desire is rising like the Spring tide.
“ and all the Bishops, with the clergy and the entire people your son has gathered here before you.”
I look down at the Missal between my hands. My thoughts betray me and aware of the offense I am causing in this hallowed place, I replace it in the rack before me. Again Lucy glances in my direction and smiles so sweetly I can feel the onset of tears of emotion. I try to concentrate on the liturgy.
“Welcome into your kingdom our departed brothers and sisters and all who have left this world in your friendship…..”
Again my euchamenical surroundings fade as Lucy turns her pretty face towards me. Without hesitation I kiss her softly on the lips. I can see clearly now her exposed cleavage and the incestuous behavior of my hands as they roam freely the captive mountain range before me. I need to see that which I can feel.
Beginning now to rub her nipple between thumb and forefinger her kisses wholeheartedly match my own for passion and intensity. Her small hand seeks out the other breast, idly caressing it’s focal point as together we inspire a mammarian celebration within the confines of those fleecy restraints.
Undoing the buttons to her waist almost, Lucy’s slimline bra is revealed in all its tempting simplicity. I kiss her passionately as she matches my ardor with her own. As I slip the bra straps down her arms, encouraged by the fact that she is making no move to halt my progress, she once more teases me to distraction by perceptibly thrusting her breasts forward as I tug the material lower, relieving both cups of their protective duty.
We break off momentarily from our lip deliberations and look into each other’s eyes. All understanding is there…no oratory required. Fully exposed now, her breasts stand out proudly, her nipples erect and in urgent need of a man’s touch – a father’s touch!
“Holy Holy Holy Lord, God of power and might.” The obligatory words of the communal sanctus jolt me back to the real-time and I recite quietly, as does Lucy beside me,
“Heaven and earth are full of your glory,
Hosanna in the highest
Blessed is he who comes in the name of the Lord,
Hosanna in the highest.”
Ahead of the Memorial Acclamation, the priest pauses at the altar.
Resting her arms on my shoulder her expression betrays just the slightest trepidation. My lips address her concerns and as I begin to draw down on her right nipple I cannot miss the sharp intake of breath or soft cry of pleasure resulting from my grossly indecent treatment of her young body. The milky scent afflicts my nasal passages and I draw down instinctively, recalling a child’s primitive intimacies and the long forgotten suckling urge. As might a mother, she holds my head firmly against her breast willing me to take the nourishment that only the female body can provide.
Grasping her tightly around the waist I alternate my attentions between either nipple, suckling her and drawing sustenance, however imaginary, from her beautiful teats. I am aware of the soft moans that even now are escaping her lips.
Pleasure begets pleasure however and discovering that my right hand has unintentionally I like to think, located the zipper at the side of her school-dress, I wonder just how far she is prepared to travel this night?
“Dying you destroyed our death, rising you restored our life.”
The pew swims back into focus. Lucy still kneels beside me, frizzy hair trailing way off her shoulders - total innocence personified. So small, she barely comes up to my collar bone. I can barely comprehend her desirability, however illicit.
Sensing perhaps my scrutiny, she turns to me, those blue eyes of her transfixing me in captured understanding.
“What is it dad?” she whispers
“Nothing sweetheart,” I reply, “I just love you silly that’s all.” She seeks out my hand momentarily and squeezes it.
“Through him, with him, and in him, in the unity of the Holy Spirit, all honor and glory is yours almighty Father, for ever and ever….amen!”
The zipper may have afforded less than six inches by way of side entry, but it was enough. At the angle she is sitting on my lap – almost side-saddle - just about any direction travelled has to bring my hand in close proximity to something seriously off-limits under normal circumstances. These however are anything but!
Almost immediately my fingers make contact with the leg elastic of her panties. I feel her stiffen and murmur softly “No dad…not there ….you shouldn’t!”
“Interesting choice of words” I observe mentally. “Shouldn’t” being way down the list from “can’t” or “musn’t.” Inarguably I have not yet met with any physical resistance either. She lets out a small cry of surprise as my fingers encroach (admittedly topside) upon the skimpy panties themselves.
How can I possibly convey the feelings I experience as I follow that curving road to the very brink of its angular descent between her thighs. Her sweet mouth is open slightly I notice and remains thus, as my finger follows that definitive indentation all the way down between her legs. I feel her part them slightly – the heat from her thighs enveloping the inbound visitors.
Using just my middle and index finger I begin to rub softly the front of the material. Fully unable to sit still, she begins to wriggle her hips in pleasured response. Now I figure is quite the best time to kiss her once more and in doing so, I confirm such strategy as being wise in the extreme.
A small leap of faith admittedly but by slipping my fingers beneath those sexy little undies swiftly and without any advance notice, they find themselves on the instant, in a world of tropical delights. My tactile indulgencies deliver up the hitherto unknown fact that Lucy evidently trims her nether regions yet ensuring that sufficient of her girlish growth remains on hand to tease any intruder wishing to cross that final border. That there have been none until now, can never be in dispute.
Slipping dexterously between her moist folds, I waste no time in locating her clitoral hood, whereupon I commence a teasing program all my own. Even as I feel her hand approach the playing fields – perhaps to offer some token resistance, I step-up the friction and with her now audible moans reverberating around the bedroom, I bring her to the edge of a brave new world.
Transported by these newly come-by experiences, she is unaware just how spread her legs have become. I avail myself of the opportunity and ease her dress up until her panties are fully exposed. So absorbed is Lucy in her escalating pleasures, her eyes are closed and she is likely unaware of her fully indecent aspect or the fact that her bare breasts are rising and falling in sync with her irregular breathing status.
Her cleavage glistens with moisture as I bring her to a new plateau. Her body is trembling and those hips locked into the final countdown. The outcome is swift and decisive. As waves of pleasure engulf her small body, radiating outwards in direct proportion to her vaginal spasms, she cries aloud, “Ohhh unreal dad,” clutching her pussy as she utters the words.
As the vision cruelly disintegrates, I hear the Priest once more.
“Let us pray to the Father in the words our saviour taught us.” The congregation speak-out as one,
“Our Father, who art in Heaven, hallowe’d be thy name.”
I lay my daughter gently on the bed. Everything but her hot little rose-colored briefs appears to have been magically discarded.
“Thy Kingdom come, thy will be done, on Earth as it is in Heaven.”
I am kneeling beside her. Grasping her panties I pull them down. She puts her arms up to me almost in supplication. She smiles as I part her legs. I stare lovingly rather than lustfully at her beautifully sculptured ingress.
“Give us this day our daily bread,”
I manouever myself between her thighs, unembarrassed as is she, by my swollen erection.
“And forgive us our trespasses as we forgive those who trespass against us.”
Placing the head at her vaginal entrance, I apply what pressure is necessary. She whispers “It’s OK dad you’re not hurting me,” Even though I must be, she hands me such a loving smile I feel like crying. Perhaps tears of gratitude that God ever fashioned for me so beautiful and exquisite a daughter.
“and lead us not into temptation, but deliver us from evil.”
Entering her, I am lost in a sea of emotion. She understands somehow and holds me to her, encouraging me to penetrate her yet deeper.
“For the kingdom, the power and glory are yours…”
Time has elapsed – seconds? minutes? I have no way of knowing. Right then my discharge floods her internally. The beatific expression on her face assures me that all is well and that never shall I feel guilt over what I have done.
“For ever and ever, Amen!”
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