Lindsays Love Letters Ch 02

Pulling into the driveway, I put my arm around Lindsay and pulled her close. I give her a kiss on the top of the head and tell her everything will be just fine. When she looks up at me, she smiles and my heart skips a beat. She looks so much like her mother when she was the same age. Almost like a clone. She smiles at me and says she has the best daddy in the whole wide world. I break down. I have to tell her. I'm going to tell her...

"I know this is..." I search for the right word. It's probably way too late to do anything about it but, I can't just do nothing. My cum is inside her vagina. Unless she's close to her period, the longer I wait, the more of a chance there is, that she'll become pregnant. At the same time, I can't let her know what I know. I just can't. It'll destroy her. It'll end our family, our home, our lives. Not just mine, but her's too. I just can't.

"Hurry," I say.

"Hurry?" she asks, her face scrunching up with confusion.

"I, uh... quick... inside. You need to go inside... right now."

"I was gonna," Lindsay says, opening her door and climbing out of the truck.

"No, I mean..." I'm still searching for a way to say it. How to articulate the urgency I'm feeling, without giving away the truth. The horrible, unforgivable, truth. And I can't. Emotion is building inside of me like a hot hard balloon, ready to burst.

"We need to get... you clean," I say as I hurry over to the door.

Lindsay gives me a strange look and opens the door. I follow, tossing my jacket onto the back of a nearby chair.

"I'm sorry," Lindsay says, and I can tell she thinks she's in trouble. That's not my intention. I try a disarming chuckle, but it doesn't work. I shake my head a bit. She's her own person now. She's responsible for her own actions. I'm no longer her keeper... or am I?

I struggle to come to terms, again. She's eighteen. Whatever she did, is on her. But this time, this time, I had something to do with it, directly. That means, no matter what, it's on me as well. She's not on her own. And I feel like, I'm okay with that. I wouldn't want to be on my own either. Being on my own... if it weren't for Lindsay... would have sucked.

"Forget that," I say quickly, letting her know I'm not mad at her in the slightest. "What you need to do, right now, is go into the bathroom and wash it out. Use something... Anything. I don't know what."

Lindsay's jaw falls open. Clearly, she hasn't been on the same page as me. She looks shocked.

"What?" I asked.

"I... oh Jesus," she says and she turns around and runs for the bathroom. She's stripping her clothes off faster than I can keep up. I grab her pants off the floor as she turns the corner. Her sock. Why would she take off her sock?

I split from Lindsay and run to my computer, sitting sideways in the seat. I hit the power button and thank myself for splurging on the solid-state hard drive months ago. I click the search engine and type in "best anti-sperm douche home remedy". The results appear and I peruse them quickly, pulling up the top seven and weed out the crazy advertisements and bullshit websites.

I pick the top three. Diluted vinegar, baking soda in water, and of all things unholy, soda. It's a common brand and one we drink on occasion. I bolt for the kitchen, grab all three, and hurry back to the bathroom. I grab the handle, but the door is locked.

"Lindsay?" I call out.

"It's open," Lindsay says.

"It's not," I say, giving the handle another try and the door comes right open. "Okay, I guess it is," I say, pushing the door open and hurrying inside.

Lindsay is sitting on the back side of the tub, her legs wide, the shower head pressed against her vagina.

"No! Stop. That's just... that's like a slip-and-slide to getting pregnant," I say, shaking my head.

Lindsay jerks the shower head away and water pours out of her vagina. I look away, but then realize this is not the time for the standard rules of impropriety. I turn back and hand her the bottle of vinegar.

"They say diluted vinegar will help. And baking soda, and soda," I hold up the last one, showing her the condensation-covered bottle, dripping in the now extremely humid air. "Turn the water off. We need to do this. Water will just make it... wetter."

Lindsay shuts the faucet off and stands up. "It can't get any wetter," she says and my stomach lurches weirdly at the comment. She swallows nervously and I can't help but notice her nipples are standing out against the fabric of her shirt, like hard little points. "How am I going to douche with the vinegar?" She asks, holding up the bottle.

I look around as if there's something just sitting out on the bathroom countertop. "Don't you have a douche bottle?" I ask.

"No. You know I don't use those things," she says. "You said they're bad."

"They are bad," I say, shaking my head. They might be bad, they might be the worst thing a woman can shove in their vagina, but I would have paid money to have one, right now.

"What if I do a handstand?" Lindsay asks.

"A handstand?"

"Yeah," Lindsay says, handing the bottle of vinegar back. "What if I do a handstand, and... you just... pour it in." I watch her face as it turns red, but mine is doing the same thing. It's as good an idea as any, and I have none.

"Let me go get a glass to mix it. We need to dilute it."

Lindsay grabs a towel and steps out of the shower as I hurry away. I run to the sink, grab a huge plastic cup, pour it half full of vinegar and half with water, and hurry back, trying not to spill.

I open the bathroom door to find Lindsay on her hands and knees facing away from me. She peers back and asks, "Ready?"

"Yes," I say, hurrying forward.

She tilts her head down, lifts her bottom into the air, and pushes off. One foot goes up high, the other sideways. Her shirt falls down, revealing her breasts, and she immediately abandons the effort, almost kicking me in the face on the way down.

"Lindsay," I say quickly. "I've seen 'em before. We need to get this done, sooner than later."

"Sorry," she says, giving me an embarrassed look.

"Handstand. Hurry up," I say, motioning with my hands.

Lindsay smiles and tries the handstand again. I helped her out by grabbing one of her ankles as it comes up, to hold it steady.

"I got it," she says, kicking her foot a little and I let go.

I watch as she slowly moves her legs upward, like a board, and then her knees bend, her legs come down in a froggy kind of way, her thighs opening up. I swallow as her mound splits down the middle, her outer lips parting to reveal soft pink inner lips which peel open as well. I swallow again, thinking just how much she resembles her mother, right down to her pussy, the shape of it, the size of her lips, even the little hood over her clit.

"Daddy?" Lindsay asks, pulling me from my trance. Her hole opens up at her words, a quarter-sized gape rimmed with soft pink nubs that make her pussy look like some exotic mouth out of a horror film. It closes and opens again as Lindsay sucks in a breath, beckoning to be filled.

"Are you going to pour it in?" Lindsay asks.

"Oh, shit. Yeah," I say, grabbing the cup and turning back. I bring it to the edge of her mound and use the natural valley to rest the side of the cup against and I hear Lindsay gasp.

"You alright?" I ask.

"Fine!" Lindsay says. "You just... hit my clit, is all."

I chuckle and tip the cup. The liquid begins to pour in, but the edge of the cup is like one of those cups. The kind that can't pour a straight line to save your life. Diluted vinegar is spilling everywhere.

"Watch out. You don't want to get this in your eyes," I say.

"I know," Lindsay comments, tilting her head back, under her body.

"Hold on," I say, switching hands and angles. I attempt the pour again and a healthy amount goes directly down her ass crack. "Fuck!"

"What's wrong?" Lindsay asks from down below.

"This fucking cup!" I say. "I... I'm sorry. I need to touch you."

"Dad," Lindsay says in a flat, almost authoritative voice. "Just do it. I'm okay."

"Alright," I say, and I reach forward. I slip my pointer and middle finger into her pussy, stretching it open. With the other hand, I pour the liquid directly inside, trying to not get it all over the fucking place. It works, and by works, I mean, I fill her pussy to the lips, but at the same time, I pour the rest of the cup everywhere else. But it's done. I pull my fingers out and her pussy closes a bit. Liquid gushes. She squeezes and more liquid gushes out.

"Ohhh. Fuck. That... it's burning," she says.

"Sorry," I say, shaking my head.

I see her hips give a shudder. "No... It's really burning," Lindsay says more urgently.

"Do you need to wash it out?" I ask.

"Something!" She says, her voice sounding strained.

"Hold on. I'll use the baking soda," I say and I grab the box off the counter. "All right. Hold on," I say, pulling the tiny metal spout out of the side of the box and making sure it's still powdery.

My first instinct is to just dump it on her pussy, but then I remember something about a 6th-grade science project and I imagine a volcano spouting from Lindsay's vagina.

Instead, I dump some into the cup and the cup explodes, sending a geyser of bubbles all over the sink. "Fuck, fuck, fuck," I say, turning on the water and rinsing out the cup as quickly as I can. A moment later, I just drop the cup, pour some baking soda into my hand, and add a bit of water. A second later, I have a little ball of dampened baking soda and I turn back to Lindsay. "This might make a mess."

"Hurry up!" Lindsay says, gritting her teeth.

I step forward, spread her lips open like before, and drop the little ball of baking soda paste into her hole. Instant volcano.

"Hooooooo-leeeeee-shiiiiiiii-ttt!" Lindsay yelps as bubbles and foam spew from her vagina, sending a thick river of foam down Lindsay's ass and her front as well. Her hips shudder again and she groans.

"Is it better?" I ask quickly.

"Yeah," Lindsay says, her body beginning to shake. I can see she's straight-arming it now, and her ass is against the wall. "It feels... weird..."

"I... I'm gonna check," I say, and I slip two fingers into her once again, spreading her open and looking inside.

Her vagina is filled with milky-looking liquid, and I see the "tube" of her vagina is ribbed, which reminds me of one of those sex toys for masturbating. She does something and her pussy tightens and then opens again, deeper now. Rings of soft pink flesh and milky white residue from the baking soda ring what I can clearly see is her cervix with a dark pink hole in the middle. "I don't see anything in there."

"What did you think was going to be in there?" Lindsay asks, bringing her legs down quickly, and I step out of the way to keep from getting clocked in the head. She stands up, red-faced, and grabs a towel from the tub pressing it against herself between her legs. She pulls the towel away and then presses it back in place. "How long does it take?"

"I don't know," I say.

"Should I use the soda?" she asks, looking up at me innocently.

"Wouldn't hurt," I say, turning and grabbing the bottle. "You want to do it?"

Lindsay shakes her head, looks down, and then looks away, a weird look on her face. She steps into the tub, sits on the edge, and then opens her legs again. "You do it."

"Alright," I say, kneeling down outside the tub. "You tell me if it hurts."

"It'll probably feel good," she says, her face turning red. She pulls her feet up one at a time and places them on each side of my shoulders as I lean over the tub, crack the cap off the soda, and put my thumb over the top. I give it a single shake and then bring it forward. Lindsay reaches down with both hands, grabbing her inner lips and stretching herself open for me. I put the lip of the bottle right against her, my thumb making contact, and then I pull my thumb back a little.

Ice-cold cola shoots into her, fizzing violently, and she gasps and then giggles.

"You okay?" I ask.

"Yeah. I'm fine," she says with a smile. "It's just cold. But it... it's okay. Just, put the top in a little..."

"In... like, inside?"

"Just a little," Lindsay chuckles. "Don't stick it all the way in there."

"Alright," I say, and I press the threaded neck of the bottle inside her, gently, until most of the threads disappear. I look up at her, and she's watching me intently. "I'm just going to squeeze it," I say, doing what I'm describing in real-time. The coke goes up inside of her. A moment later, fizzy coke shoots back into the bottle, and then, there's some sort of cataclysmic battle for where the foamy coke wants to go, back in the bottle, or up inside of Lindsay. She gasps and I see her grip the edge of the tub, and cola explodes, everywhere.

Lindsay laughs then, and I know she's okay. I'm completely covered. I look up at Lindsay and her legs, which have closed a bit, reopen even wider. Suddenly, as if she's become self-conscious, she closes her thighs a bit more and her face turns red once again.

"You okay?" I ask, grabbing the towel and wiping my face off.

"Yeah- I'm. Uh. Daddy. Daddy, stop," she says, grabbing the towel out of my hands and tossing it on the back of the toilet.

"What?" I ask, turning, just as the towel falls forward, a corner of the towel falling into the water bowl. "God damn it."

"It's okay," Lindsay says. "It... It had..."

I look at the towel and back at Lindsay, pulling it out of the bowl.

"Daddy. I used it to wipe my pussy," she says, embarrassedly.

"Oh," I say, raising my eyebrows. "Well... I mean, it's pretty clean," I say with a chuckle. "Like they say in the military, clean enough to eat off of."

Lindsay begins to crack up, her laughing becoming uncontrollable. I realize what I just said and shake my head.

"Alright," I say, standing up and readjusting myself in the process. I glance over and see Lindsay staring at me. She looks up, makes eye contact, and then looks away. "What?" I ask.

"You're... ahem!" She glances back and then down, and then back up.

"What?"

"Your hog is going to get out of the pen," Lindsay says with a giggle.

I give her a narrow-eyed look, reach down, and find my pants unzipped. My semi-hard cock is pressing against my underwear, jutting out between the zipper area and I curse, thrusting it back inside and zipping myself back up.

"Sorry," I say, shaking my head, my face as red and as hot as molten lava. "The phrase is, your "cow" is getting out of the barn. Not a hog," I say.

Lindsay puts her hands over her face, but I cannot tell if she's laughing or just... not laughing. "You, uh... shower off, and... I'll go grab you some clothes," I say, my face growing hotter by the second. "Then I need to take a shower."

"Alright," Lindsay says, and she casually opens and closes her legs, flashing me, as if it's no big deal. I have to suppose, it's no longer something to be embarrassed about and I wonder, since when did I become embarrassed to see her privates? I'd never been embarrassed before. And now, all of a sudden, it's something weird? I realize then, as I step from the bathroom, it's not her I'm embarrassed about. It's me. Why in the hell did I-...?

I purposefully blank my mind. I'm not going to think about it. Not one more second. I turn around only to receive a wet T-shirt to the face.

"Sorry Daddy!" Lindsay laughs and the shower curtain is ripped into place, obscuring Lindsay's full nakedness from view.

"Thanks," I say, closing the door and wondering what in the heck to do next. "Laundry," I say, grabbing Lindsay's discarded jeans, panties, and single sock. I have no idea where the second one is at. I chuckle. Well, back to normal I guess.

I'm standing at the washing machine a moment later, checking Lindsay's pockets for things like ink pens and hair ties, when I find myself curious. I drop Lindsay's jeans, sock and shirt into the washer, but slowly unfold her panties. They're wet, and I don't mean damp. They're soaking wet. I open them to look closer, and I'm both repelled, and thankful. I hope a good majority of whatever was inside of her, worked its way out, and whatever we'd just done in the bathroom, hopefully, took care of the rest. I drop her panties into the wash, and then throw in a bunch of my own stuff in, set it and close it.

Next up, clean clothes. I go to the towel closet, and then abandon that to head into Lindsay's room. I go to her dresser, pull open the top drawer and stare dumbfounded. I knew she'd been buying her own underwear for quite some time, but I had no idea they were so... skimpy. Quite a few of them are nothing more than two circles of string with a small hourglass portion of cotton attaching the two together.

"What in the hell is this going to cover?" I ask myself, picking one of the pair up and inspecting it. I drop it back in the drawer and then slide my hand in the back, pulling the thicker, more sturdy garments forward. My fingertips brush against something hard and I uncover it only to stare, in utter shock.

"A vibrator?" I ask myself, and then, slowly, I recognize it. "No..." I whisper and shake my head. It's not just some bargain basement dildo or some rando online find. It's a vibrator I know, one I've used before. Not on myself obviously, although I supposed it could be used by a man, but I'm not into that sort of thing.

I hold it up, inspecting it to make sure I'm not just deceiving myself. A moment later I'm positive it's the same. It's something that had belonged to my wife before she'd packed her bags and left to move to San Diego with her loser boyfriend. I always found that funny. Her boyfriend's name was Diego. The place they moved, was San Diego. And now, she was single and begging for me to let her come back and live with us again. So now, technically, she was san Diego, in San Diego.

I hear the shower shut off and I hurry to stuff the vibrator and the rest of her things back in the drawer. I grab her a pair of shorts and a T-shirt from the second drawer and hurry back, knocking on the door just as it opens.

Lindsay stands there and then looks up, sees me, and smiles.

"Hey," she says, smiling. She's wearing two towels, one on her head and one around her body. She takes one of the items I grabbed for her and laughs.

"What?" I ask.

"Where did you get these?" She asks.

"Your drawers," I say, shaking my head. "What? Are they wrong?"

Lindsay grabs the other items out of my hands and pulls the bathroom door closed. A few moments later, she opens the door and stands there, a wry grin on her face. "What do you think?"

I step back, trying not to laugh. The shorts are so tight, I can see... pretty much everything. Basically, her entire vagina. The middle of the shorts cut into her body like a medieval torture device, trying to split her in two. The shirt is skin tight, and now has a huge tear in the side, where she'd ripped it trying to pull it down over her breasts. The material just barely covers her nipples and is riding up the sides, held down by rock-hard nipples and god's graces alone.

I chuckle.

Lindsay grabs her breasts and gives them a squeeze. "I don't know dad. This fits pretty good. I can probably wear this to work."

"No," I lie, and I turn around to hide the growing shade of red on my face, and the ever-increasing erection in my pants. "I- I'll go get you something else to wear."

"Forget it," Lindsay says, tossing me her towels. "You go take a shower. I'll go get dressed. I'm a big girl now, remember?"

She gives me a smile and I give her a nervous smile back. I try to not focus on her left nipple, now fully exposed, the stretched-out t-shirt material riding up and pulling back from her breasts.

"Oops!" Lindsay laughs, jerking the material back down and giving me a mischievous smile.

I spin around again, hiding my erection and hurry into the bathroom, closing the door behind myself. I turn on the shower and strip down, jump in, give it the old thirty-second military shower, and step back out. I was never really one for long drawn-out showers, or soaking in the heat. I'm more of the "rinse it off and get the fuck out" kind of guys. Having very little hair on my head has always helped.