All people, places, and things described are imaginary and do not represent real places, persons, or events. All characters in this story are over the age of 18 years.
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I hear my bedroom door creak open, the sound sudden and startling in the darkness. My Daddy steps into the room and sits at the foot of my bed. It's a small twin, pushed into the corner. He sits down lightly because he's not sure if I'm awake or asleep. He doesn't want to disturb me. I'm awake, though pretending not to be — and secretly pleased that he's come.
My heart starts beating faster because I've been having all sorts of confusing feelings towards my Daddy lately. Before I graduated and moved away for college, our relationship was simpler and easier to navigate — but now that I'm at home visiting, something has changed between us. Sometimes I lie in bed at night feeling tingly and hot and imagine him doing things to me. I imagine that he's lying awake in the next room over, thinking the same things. I know about sex and how it's supposed to feel, how I'm supposed to want to do it with the college boys... but it seems that I can only think about my Daddy that way. All I know is that he makes me feel safe and my whole body lights up when he's around.
I'm lying on my back, stretched out with my arms above my head, which is turned slightly to one side on the pillow. I'm careful to breathe in and out, in and out, slowly — I don't want Daddy to know that I'm awake. My dark hair is loose and it fans out against my cheek, and my legs are parted underneath the blankets, with one knee drawn up and the other leg straight.
The room is lit only by a shaft of moonlight streaming in through the window by my bed. I can just make out my Daddy's outline if I open my eyes very slightly. He's looking at my body, not my face. I can hear him breathing fast, and he stretches out a hand to stroke my leg very lightly over the blankets. My heart is pounding and I'm afraid that I won't be able to feign sleep for much longer, so I pretend to stir slowly, yawning and opening my eyes as if I'm just now awakening to find him here. His eyes snap up to my face and he smiles at me. There's something behind his smile — it's as if I caught him in the act of something forbidden.
"Hi, baby, did I wake you up?" he whispers.
"It's okay, Daddy, I wasn't asleep for very long." I rub my eyes.
His hand is still on my leg, gently stroking from my shin up to the middle of my thigh, and occasionally massaging through the blanket. My body is buzzing, and I can feel my pulse beating strongly in my throat — and between my legs. With my eyes open and adjusting to the dark, I can see him more clearly. He's so handsome, I think. Daddy is well-built, and wearing an old pair of jeans that fit him perfectly. His hands are strong, and very warm.
"I didn't get to say goodnight or tuck you in earlier, so I wanted to come do it now," he says.
There's an electricity in the room, and I'm acutely aware of his hand as it moves slowly up my thigh over the blanket. I want it to move higher, to touch more of me.
"Daddy, can you tickle my back?" I ask innocently. It wouldn't be the first time we've done this bedtime ritual, but there's a tension between us that has been growing stronger. I want to feel his hands on my bare skin.
He hesitates for a moment, but then nods. I pull the blankets down, revealing my short cotton nightgown. My legs are exposed. I feel slightly self-conscious, but I turn over onto my side so I'm facing the wall. I can no longer see him, but I feel his weight shift as he readjusts and moves close to me on the bed. His hands begin to stroke my back, just barely brushing over the thin material of the nightgown. He smooths the hair away from my neck and touches me there, before letting his hands trail down my back, all the way to my waist.
I can hear that his breathing has quickened.
"That feels so good, Daddy," I murmur, hoping to encourage him to touch more of me.
"You've always liked having your back rubbed," he says. His palm lies flat against my waist, stroking and moving lower, over my hip and onto my thigh, just above the hem of the nightgown. When he reaches the hem, his hand stops, seems to hesitate — then moves back up my body, torturously slow. He massages me and I feel his fingers brush the side of my breast as his hand moves up my body. I let out a little noise of pleasure and I feel his intake of breath.
"Will you get my legs, too, Daddy?" I whisper.
He freezes behind me. I feel him pull away. "I'll get those tomorrow night, baby. I promise. It's time for you to go to sleep, now."
His voice has a strange, strained quality, and I prop myself up on one elbow to look over my shoulder at him. His face is suddenly very close to mine, and his lips are parted. He leans in quickly to kiss my forehead, and — I can smell his skin, only for a second. As his lips touch me, I feel a lurch in my stomach that reverberates somewhere lower. He hugs me, then says goodnight, leaving me alone and alive in my bed.
—
The next night, I get into bed wearing a thinner, shorter nightgown. This one is quite sheer and doesn't conceal much of my body. I am hoping my Daddy comes in and sees me wearing it. After all, I am eighteen, and not a little girl anymore. I want him to think I'm beautiful, womanly, and to touch me again. Some part of me struggles against this — I know that my Daddy shouldn't be the one I think about in that way — but I can't help it. I'm desperate to be alone with him in the darkness of my little bedroom.
I lay in bed fidgeting, waiting for him to come. Just when I'm starting to be disappointed thinking he has forgotten me, the door opens. My heart leaps as Daddy steps into the room.
I'm fully awake this time, and I smile as he walks towards me. My pulse is already racing at the sight of him, and he sits down at the foot of the bed.
"Hi, sweetheart. I told you I'd come tuck you in tonight."
He strokes my forehead and smooths my hair behind my ear. I unconsciously turn my head into his hand, straining towards his touch.
"Will you give me a massage again, Daddy?"
"Mmhmm. It's important to keep promises. Now turn over, so I can get your back first."
I repeat the motions of the previous night, kicking my covers off and turning over onto my side. I catch a glimpse of his face as my nightgown is revealed, and I'm delighted to see that he looks surprised, and... some other emotion flickers across his face that I can't identify. I face the wall, and close my eyes as he begins massaging and rubbing my back again. He's closer tonight. I can feel the warmth of his body through my diaphanous nightgown.
He leans down and says softly, "Is this a new nightgown, baby? I've never seen it before."
"Yes. Do you like it, Daddy?" I don't tell him that I thought of him, only him, when I was buying it.
He continues to run his hands down my back, moving to my waist, and my hips. A few seconds of silence pass. I wait, tense with anticipation, anxious that he will say no.
"Yes, I do like it... You're very pretty. And so grown up, baby. You're a woman now. I'm just caught off guard sometimes, is all."
I relax, letting my breath out. I smile and wiggle a little bit closer to him on the bed.
"Thank you, Daddy. I was hoping you'd like it."
He gives me an affectionate squeeze at the waist.
"Are you going to get my legs tonight? You promised that you would," I plead. My tone is light and teasing, but he can sense my eagerness. He hesitates for another long moment.
