Nolan and Jessica Pt. 03

All characters are at least 18 years old.

*****

The rest of the evening went by as if nothing had happened, except that Marty and Jessica said very little to each other. She had taken a long shower, locked the door to her room, did her homework, then went into the kitchen and warmed some leftovers. Nolan got home while she was preparing supper and they all sat at the kitchen table and ate. She could barely bring herself to meet her father’s eyes.

The next day, at school, she could barely concentrate on her work. She kept thinking back to what her father had “forced” her to do and was amazed that she didn’t shudder in revulsion. As much as she hated to admit it to herself, she had enjoyed it. That wasn’t quite correct, she amended. She didn’t enjoy it. Her body had betrayed her and her body had enjoyed it. She was torn. Her mind absolutely did not want what had happened and it did not want her to think of it as a pleasurable experience in any way. Her body, however, had loved it. Her father had seen what he wanted and took it. That was, somehow, exciting to her. There was no denying that he gave her great physical pleasure. She found herself recalling how her body had reacted to him. She needed to get herself under control, she knew. She both dreaded and looked forward with great eagerness to going home and facing him, especially since she knew that Nolan was working late that night. She tried to think of somewhere she could go or some excuse to keep from being there alone with her father, but she had to admit that being home with her father was exactly where she wanted to be.

As she entered the house, she wondered if her father would be drinking. It had saddened her tremendously that he had started drinking again. It had been wonderful when she arrived home from school and was met with a hot cup of coffee, a sandwich, and the loving, smiling face of her father. Now he was unpredictable. The previous day — that awful/wonderful day – he had been asleep in his chair because he was drinking.

She immediately smelled the aroma of coffee and, when she entered the kitchen, her father was sitting at the table reading a book. There was a plate opposite him, containing a ham sandwich and some potato chips.

“Hello, Jess. The coffee is fresh. Do you want me to pour it?” he smiled as he rose from the table.

“Thanks, Daddy…sit back down. I can get it. Thank you.” She tried to smile but knew that it probably looked more like a grimace. She poured both of them a cup and put sugar in them. She put Marty’s cup in front of him and sat down to eat her sandwich.

Marty sipped his coffee, his eyes fastened on his daughter who, he noticed, was reluctant to look at him. “Oh, Honey, this coffee is just perfect! You are the only one who can get it just exactly the right sweetness for me!”

Jessica looked at him and smiled. She was glad that she could please him in this small way. “Thank you for making my sandwich, Daddy. It’s so kind of you…,” she took a sip of her coffee and looked away, fighting tears. “I love you, Daddy.”

Marty felt bad about what happened the day before. He had thought about it most of the day and had tried to rationalize it. He knew it was wrong, no matter what, but he blamed his drinking and had promised himself that he would not drink anymore. At least not today. He could tell that Jessica was upset, but he didn’t know what to say. He had never been good at apologizing or talking to people who were upset.

“Baby, I’m sorry. I hope you’ll forgive me some day. I don’t know what else to say. I can’t undo it,” he offered.

“Daddy, let’s not talk about it, please? You know I love you and you know that I forgive you. That’s just how I am. I cannot be filled with hatred. Hatred destroys. I’ll never hate you, or anyone else,” she sniffled, angry at herself for allowing her emotions to intrude. She wiped her eyes on her shirt sleeve.

“I wish I were more like you, Jessica. You are the most genuine person – you and Nolan both – that I’ve ever known. You didn’t learn that from me, nor your mother, either.”

“Church, I guess,” she sniffled. “I don’t know. I just know that I can’t hate people, no matter what they do. That may be my weakness, or one of them. I love people that don’t deserve it…I don’t mean you, Daddy. You do deserve to be loved…I gotta do homework.” With that she drained her coffee and went quickly to her room and closed the door.

Jessica took her clothes off, put on a pair of tight running shorts and one of her old tee shirts that no longer covered her midriff. She lay on her bed and had a good cry. She wasn’t sad, exactly, but she felt that her emotions were all over the place. She was so torn over what her dad had done the previous day. She admitted to herself that she was, probably, a bit perverted. After all, she was more attracted to her own brother than anyone else. Then, when her father had forced her to have sex with him, she had ended up enjoying it, although she couldn’t tell him that. (Obviously he knew, though, because she had had a bed-shaking orgasm.) She tried to tell herself that it was purely biological, but she wasn’t sure that was true. She had felt something more than physically. She couldn’t explain it.

As she lay there, she suddenly had an intense desire to be held by her father, again. He had learned his lesson. He knew that he had crossed the line. She was lonely and she needed love. She didn’t want her father to beat himself up over what had happened. What if he became depressed? What if he drank to try to forget it?

She sat on the edge of the bed, unsure of what to do. She could just go tell him that she loved him and give him a hug. No big deal. Should she change clothes? What was the point? There was nothing he had not seen. Besides, all the important parts were covered adequately, even though she had removed her bra.

She crept out of her room, not wishing to awaken her father if he had fallen asleep. He was in his recliner watching ESPN.

“What’s on, Daddy?” she asked as she walked over to his chair and stood beside him.

“SportsCenter. What’s up, Baby?”

Jessica hesitated. “I just want you to know that I really do love you. I’m not just saying it. That’s all.”

Marty looked unsure of what to do or say. He reached for her hand and, almost imperceptibly pulled her toward him. She took his cue and climbed into his lap, laying her head on his shoulder.

“You like sitting in your Daddy’s lap, don’t you, Baby?” he asked.

“Yes, Daddy. I do. You make me feel loved,” she whispered. She thought to herself, ‘What are you doing?’ But the fact was that she was upset and emotionally distraught. Despite everything, just being held by him calmed her and really did make her feel better.

“I do love you, Jess,” he whispered as he put his arms around her and squeezed. “There, is that better?”

“Yes,” she whispered and leaned over to give him a kiss on his neck. “I could sit here all night,” she said, even as she thought how stupid that must sound.

Marty could feel his cock begin to stir. What was she up to? She had to know that he was going to get an erection and become sexually excited if she sat in his lap, yet she seemed willing – almost eager – to do so. He knew that, once aroused, his behavior would be unpredictable and that he was liable to do something that he would regret, again. In his mental and emotional state, he was erratic and knew that this was not a good idea.

“Well, you can sit here until your brother gets home. I don’t think he would like it, do you?”

“No, I don’t think he would understand,” she whispered, almost inaudibly. “I don’t think I even understand,” she added.

“Baby, you’ve been through a lot. It’s mostly my fault and I know it,” he said as he stroked her hair. “Neither of us may be completely emotionally healthy.”

Jessica put her arms around his head and hugged him tightly, as if she would never let him go. “We need to heal, Daddy,” she whispered in his ear.

He could feel her breasts mashing against his chest and realized that she was not wearing a bra. He would love to see her firm young breasts, again, he thought. He loved the way they looked and the way that they felt when he had grasped them the previous day.

Jessica released her hug and turned sideways in his lap. His erect cock was making it uncomfortable. She now knew what it looked like and, more importantly, she knew what it felt like inside of her. She admitted to herself that she wanted to do it again, as terrible as that thought was. She had to stop thinking that way, she knew.

Marty could see up the legs of the athletic shorts all the way to her panties. Her flat, tanned tummy looked so sexy! He could even make out her nipples through the tight shirt. How could he be expected to resist this? He lay his hand, experimentally, on her bare tummy as he felt his lust for her begin to override his rational thought.

Jessica realized that her father was looking at her long legs, her flat abdomen, and her tightly-encased breasts. Was that what she had wanted? In the back of her mind, wasn’t this what she had planned? Of course it was! And here she was, and she couldn’t deny that it was exciting that her father was looking at her body in such a lecherous way. Let him. Why did it matter? They weren’t going to do anything — were they? He had learned his lesson. He was sorry for what he had done. It would never happen again — would it?

Then suddenly his hands were roaming from her flat tummy under her shirt, almost touching the undersides of her breasts. Jessica knew she was not going to even try to stop him. This is what she had wanted, she admitted to herself, and there was no reason to ruin it by trying to resist. His hands slowly, very slowly began caressing her breasts, under her shirt. He clasped them both, gently and lovingly, tweaking the nipples gingerly. Oh it felt so good! She pushed toward him, not trying at all to move away, thrusting them into his hands…

“Daddy,” she groaned. “You shouldn’t. Don’t!” she said, even though it felt good – way better than she wanted it to!