Bailey Easton, and her boyfriend Brad, both 19 years old, wanted to get married, but first they needed her father's consent. Born and raised Catholic she met Brad at the end of high school. A budding romance followed. The youth snuck out into the evening each night to see each other. Then following school, Brad took a local factory job. It barely provided, but after Bailey and him moved into the same place, things were going good. Bailey, wasn't fairing much better living separate from her parents. She didn't miss the purist drivel of her childhood routines under their roof. Coming into her own as a young adult, she rebelled when it was safe, but followed the code of family honor ingenuously. She was an astern woman, prideful, and had a rigid perseverance to fulfill her family's secret rite of marriage. A sacred passage that was only ever hinted at while she was growing up.
The Easton Matrimony Night, her parents sometimes humorously explained it, but never in detail, had been performed since the days of Old Testament and according to tradition, an adult child could only marry and live outside the home if the father of the bride approved of the couple's love for each other. The bride's father would only grant request after spending a night with the new couple. In the time-honored tradition, meant to test the strength of the couple's love, the night is secret between the family. Borrowed from a slogan in a Vegas vacation commercial, Mr. Easton, Bailey's father liked to say,
"What happens on Matrimony Night, stays with Matrimony Night." Always followed by an awkward laugh and a pat or rub.
Brad had no idea what Bailey was describing when she tried explaining these riddles to him.
Bailey had just started living with Brad a few months before he proposed to her. The two were tight on money, and Bailey insisted that her father must approve before they could actually marry, so Brad called up his soon to be father-in-law to ask the favor. The two men met later that evening at Brad and Bailey's apartment. Brad welcomed Mr. Easton inside and turned on the television for his guest. He offered Mr. Easton a beer and began to small talk. Brad and Mr. Easton had already developed a mutual respect for each other, but Mr. Easton wanted desperately to test Brad's commitment.
Bailey joined them after she left work, and the three talked about ambitions and plans, and most importantly: the family. Finally, after a few hours and a few beers Brad asked for Mr. Easton's daughter, but it was senior Easton's response that changed the course of the evening, "Brad do you understand biblical importance?"
"Yeah."
"Good, then you know that a woman belongs to her father before her husband, don't you? That she is his property to give and command?"
Brad was taken aback at such bold objectification of his fiancé by her own father, but non-the-less simply nodded looking for approval.
Mr. Easton, then turned to his daughter and asked forthright, "Have you been deflowered?"
Brad felt the wind go out of him; Bailey and him had had sex several times, and he was afraid that if she told her father the truth, this would ruin their chances together. It wasn't like Bailey to lie to her dad, nor was it typical for her to openly discuss anything this private. Brad felt that he was still trying to work Bailey out of a shell. The girl was usually modest, only allowing Brad to fuck her with a condom, and never diverging from missionary. Regardless, she knew how to give head, and the condom sex was still enough blackmail to set her father against him and ruin any marriage plans.
Brad fidgeted under the tension in the room, but after a long pause, Bailey lied.
"Not yet Daddy..." She said in a shrill voice, emphasizing a name she never used around her father, except for her last birthday. The secret time she received her best birthday gift from him.
Mr. Easton sat quietly and seemed to analyze the answer between the young couple. Then he said, "Good," and then beckoned for Bailey to sit on his lap. She did as suggested, looking over at Brad with a puzzled but provocative look of anticipation. Brad smiled back shyly. Then after a few moments of Bailey squirming uneasily on her father's lap while he casually took a few more drinks, Mr. Easton stated; "Bailey baby, you can't love another man until you learn to make-love, and it's my duty to instruct you, do you agree?"
Brad was flabbergasted and thought for sure Bailey was going to slap her dad, but instead she smiled nervously, glanced about the room. First toward Brad then turning toward her father's serious expression, Bailey's cheeks glowed. She then lowered her gaze along her father's physique , and promised quietly:
"Yes Daddy, I'll do anything you want me to."
Brad was glued to his seat in amazement and disgust as he watched Mr. Easton's coarse, aged hands feel their way along Bailey's shapely curves, and cupping her delicate mounds. Each hand served a purpose; one cupped and vigorously kneaded her soft breasts, and the other undid her bra. She had been wearing a thin black bra, laced along the edges above the cleavage. He tossed it aside, and the hand rejoined the other in the vigorous squeezing and kneading of her luscious form. She bend her neck down, and began kissing him.
Not a peck between family; not a loving peck between a parent and a child; but a full lip, tongue-tasting, sweaty, sloppy exchange of saliva. She made no sound; but if a person could moan silently, then she made such a moan with her whole attitude. The two clumsily kissed each other across the cheek and stopped a moment to sample the ear. She twisted her tongue around the back of her father's ear and whispered something inaudible to Brad. Mr. Easton's expression lit up, and he bit gently on her ear lobe. Bailey's blond hair dropped around her father's neck as she returned the kissing, sucking, and licking all the while her right hand groped for her father's penis, trapped beneath her. Her legs swayed from the side of the lounge chair, and she began grinding her rump across his lap.
Father and daughter kissed, and licked, down each other's neck. She trembled and twitched as he kissed the corner of her parted lips and the hot lobe of her ear. He took moments to suck tiny dark red circles into the inner crevasse of her neck and collar bone. Mr. Easton's hands groped his daughter's large tits, and caressed her youthful body. As the pair sucked, kissed, and licked as experienced lovers might, he lifted her work shirt, a rubbish green and gray polo and looped it over her exposed chest. Her pastel bare breasts within the reach of her father's rabid kissing and sucking, which he immediately performed upon the ample fresh skin. Mr. Easton's dominate hand rubbed along her core, down across her exposed stomach and into her pants. Brad watched the old man's fingers push their way past Bailey's pink and heart underwear, this too laced.
Senior Easton's south-bound arm twisted and bulged repetitively as his fingers sought new textile within her worn jeans. As his arm worked against her rocking across his lap, his lips came to one of her light pink areolas. His outstretched tongue glistened the puerile ovals then dashed across her upturned nipple. Bailey seemed to enjoy it and Brad thought he heard her moan. The two rubbed against each other and the fire burned hotter than Brad could have ever imagined. He felt half-hearted with the entire soiree. Feelings erupted an acidic taste in his mouth, but his quivering lip held still. He coughed unpleasantly, feeling like he had encountered a situation for which we was not prepared.
The rhythm swaying only stopped but left Bailey breathing heavily as she pulled herself into composure. Looking more satisfied, Mr. Easton said, "You might be a keeper for my daughter yet, but first I think my baby better go take off her clothes; we won't be needing those tonight."
Bailey stood up and adjusted her pants and top. Mr. Easton's hands, half concealing his hard-on, fell limp into his lap. The hand on top sparkled in the dim light; the fingers translucently glazed. Bailey inhaled and exhaled in long exuberant gasps. She trembled uncomfortably, and stood there.
Bailey stood there a moment, looking dumbfounded. Brad couldn't tell if Bailey was upset, happy, or simply confused. She swayed queerly biting her lower lip, and sucking inward on it. Her head was down, but she surveyed the room and her company carefully. Bailey knew her dad was a pervert, she had seen his collection of pornography in the past, and caught him masturbating on several occasions. Unbeknownst to Brad: on one such occasion, she even helped her father masturbate, and he had helped her. It was an innocent frolic upon her last birthday, but that seemed so different to Bailey now, so far away. She didn't understand what had happened between them then, but now she was certain things were going to go farther than her and her father's unusual relationship had taken them before.
There was a certain anticipation spoiled upon fearfulness in her haughty display of devilish tradition. Her breathing slowed with struggling mastery, and she smiled reluctantly, "Ok. You two go into the bedroom; I will be there in a second. I want to do something with my hair for you, daddy."
Bailey's brow knotted above shinning hazel eyes, and her smile changed to a teasingly sly grin.
Mr. Easton and Brad went into the bedroom, any attempt Brad could muster some courage to speak his mind, Mr. Easton barked an order at him. It wasn't like Mr. Easton to be demanding toward Brad, or to even impose himself with such ostentatious oppression, but the new Mr. Easton called the shots, which left Brad distastefully vicarious. Once in Brad and Bailey's apartment bedroom, the younger man sat, drawing the stool away from the bed and into a dark corner. The bedroom is a oblong room with a creaky, metal-frame bed. There is also a soft stool with a violet cushion, a gray dresser, and nightstands. On the wall next to the bed, a mirror mounted on the wall. Perhaps it was the most drab of all bedrooms, but on this night it looked like a puzzle box to be opened.
Easton emptied his pockets: an empty bottle of Viagra and some lube. He looked back toward the stool and mischievously grinned. He took off his shirt, and stood in front of the bed facing the hallway, but adjacent to the mirror and the stool on side. With the lights dim, a shadow fell across the hallway door. From the silhouette, Bailey appeared, naked and curvy. She stood in the doorway bashfully biting her lower lip, which was freshly painted in bright pink lipstick, which also had been used to write; Happy Birthday Daddy, with an arrow shaped heart on her lower abdomen below the crenulated imprint of her underwear. It, of course, suggested the indented birthday present was something between her softly pale legs.
