Saving My Daughter

[©2011 BY CLINTON09; ALL CHARACTERS OVER THE AGE OF 18; NO CHARACTERS OR EVENTS ARE CORRECT AS PRESENTED; THIS STORY IS TOLD WITHOUT RESERVE OR POLITICAL CORRECTNESS; READER SHOULD TAKE CARE AND CONSIDER LOOKING ELSEWHERE; CONCLUSION VERY HARD EDGED; READER MUST BE 25 OR ABOVE.]

[Father must save his precious daughter from a tragic marriage then somehow restore her to whole.]

[Warning: characters are harmed in the story and, given good cause, give harm to their tormentors. If you are looking for a 'pretty picture', you might look elsewhere. If you're in for a penny and in for a pound, then don a flak jacket and dive in. Thanks.]

My daughter Helen was the fairest in the land. Her mother passed away giving her birth; it was as if she sacrificed her life to bestow on the earth an angel. I was so moved by the loss that I never re-married.

All of my life was dedicated to Helen's nurturing and development. It was hard to run the truck company that I founded and give her the attention that I wanted to provide, but somehow I managed.

My darling Helen knew that I was a loving parent; no other parents came close. She could walk to school and did. Every day I would time my drive to work so that I could be sure that she made it safely to school.

I never told her this and she never knew. That is, until one day when she fell where the sidewalk had caved in. Before she could even cry out I had pulled up and swept her into my arms. She was still stunned as I carried her into the emergency room where they treated her broken leg.

During her recovery period, I had to bring her schoolwork home and tend to her every whim. I leaned on my general manager at my business to cover for me.

On the road to recovery, Helen vowed to herself that she'd come back 100% and somehow re-pay the incredibly tender, loving care that I had bestowed upon her.

It was the 18th anniversary of my daughter's birth and her mother's passing. We always had a party; it was as light and happy as anyone's. Later, I always lit a candle and said a few prayers to remember her dear mother. Helen finally was told about this when she turned sixteen.

Well, it was her eighteenth birthday. Helen was all recovered from her little fall. Amazingly enough, she had not gained an ounce though she'd been confined to her bed for several weeks.

The night before her birthday party, right after midnight when she officially turned 18, I was walking past her room. Her door catch was supposed to be fixed; I hadn't gotten around to it.

Anyway, though she had closed it, it had popped open. There, in the darkness of her room except for a strobe and a black light, my incredible daughter was doing yoga. I can't fully describe the scene as it was surreal.

Though I thought Helen was shy and retiring, she had quietly bought some 'far out' posters including the Kama sutra and some other sexy ones. All of her posters responded to that black light in totally unexpected visuals. Meanwhile, my daughter wore a skintight white leotard. As the Hindi chants played on her iPod, she did a headstand.

If you remember female gymnasts like Shannon Miller on the balance beam, you can just picture a gorgeous lithe young woman doing a headstand and then a split. Then it happened. What thousands of men tried to do mentally while watching the Olympics actually happened before my eyes. With a noisy RIP!!, the thin leotard covering my daughter's most beloved area tore open.

Again, the black light did a strange thing, highlighting the contours of that blessed opening as well as the lush forest of blonde hair that covered it. All of a sudden, she got out of the yoga position and leaped to her feet. She finished ripping off the tattered leotard and then went to her full length mirror.

She checked her figure, lightly touching her perfect breasts, the upwards thrust of her chest, her tiny waist, and the ripe bum that was so mesmerizing for anyone watching her in that outfit. She even flexed her muscles, which bulged just enough to look like some surfer girl or Supergirl. God, she was so strong, so healthy, so damn fit...

You have to remember that there was not just the black light in the darkness but also that strobe. Strobes are used for hypnosis and I was totally absorbed by this spectacle. The strobe seemed to be ingraining my mind with the images of Helen: Vivid, exciting images of her that would never be forgotten.

For a brief moment I'm ashamed to admit, I simply leered, forgetting this was my daughter. I had not dated for some time and this was quite a jolt. For the first time in years, my 'pride and joy' shook and slowly rose to its full former glory of ten inches.

If she wasn't my daughter, no force on earth could've prevented me from going into that room.

On the day of her birthday, my beloved Helen confused the hell out of me. She spent the entire day saying she was going to reward me for all the care I'd given her over the years but especially in the last few weeks.

That was great, but right in the middle of our usual little cake party, she said that she had a date and had to leave. I was crestfallen, as I had looked forward to this celebration shared by just the two of us. The joy of her party would ease the segue-way into that OTHER ceremony, honoring her mom.

Oh well, I thought, I'd just have to light that candle and then settle down to a good book on Kindle. That's what I thought when I heard a knock at the door.

I made it a habit never to open the door at night: common sense. That didn't mean I couldn't look. To my surprise, it was Julie, Helen's BFF from high school and Facebook. Quizzical, I let her in.

Julie: "Your daughter wanted me to apologize for her having a date and ruining the private celebration that you two shared. I'm Helen's best friend and she has done favors for me in the past, though nothing like this. She wanted me to finish your little party."

Julie: "She thought it would be cute if you were to have that cake that you didn't cut into with mocha and served to you in bed just like a ritzy inn. Now no questions: Just get into your jammies and wait for 'mommy'."

I was stunned. If my daughter was the fairest lass in the land at five foot four, blonde, and built like Lindsay Lohan, Julie was totally different. She was a gorgeous willowy brunette similar to Shania Twain, with a model's kind of beauty.

I got settled into bed. Ten minutes later I heard Julie slowly walk, carrying a tray with the cake and mocha (laid out by Helen before she left.) I assumed she'd just put the tray down and leave with my appreciation. So I assumed...

Well, in the event, Julie sat on the edge of the bed, put the tray on the nightstand, and proceeded to hand-feed me the cake, alternately giving me sips of the explosively rich, sweet, and aromatic mocha. All too soon, it was over.

Me: "God thanks so much. That was absolutely heavenly. I can't think of anything more you could do to make me any happier."

Julie: "Well, there IS this..."

I would never forget it. She stood up and undid the three big white buttons on her simple 'peasant' dress. It fell in a shimmer of cotton. There beneath that smock was my daughter's best friend, wearing only her birthday suit.

I instantly 'came to attention'. Rusty or not, I had ten inches of steel and I was anxious to use it. Sure, I could be a 'gentleman' and spend an hour going back and forth, discussing whether she REALLY wanted to go thru with this. But, life is short, so...

I wanted to be gallant and restrained, but it HAD been so long. I grabbed that supersexy brunette and almost threw her on the bed. Obligingly she got flat on her back, raising her shapely tanned legs; her knees up and then falling open like a cloverleaf. I scampered on board, hoping she appreciated my being in great shape while ignoring my age.

As I stared into this gorgeous Shania Twain lookalike, I hovered over her, my cock bobbling against the flower petal-like opening of her secret place. I wanted her to 'do the honors' of putting me in, just so I was certain I was welcome.

Well, she grabbed my rock-hard ten inch pole and swirled it just inside the entrance. It pushed her tender tissues in one direction then another. She moaned gently as she did this. Then she let go. I was determined that she should enjoy this as much as I did, so I continued sawing back and forth against the outer entrance, with occasional bumps against her clit.

Poor Julie; it was driving her wild. In fact, it was so powerful that she pushed my cock inside of her; the foreplay was just too overwhelming. I drove inside of her with one powerful stroke, eliciting a moan and a bit of a scream when my mushroom-shaped cockhead lightly bottomed out. A wave of pleasure seemed to sweep over her, as if it was not only an orgasm, but THE orgasm...the first she had ever had...

I then proceeded to drive in and out with every scrap of my middle age stamina. Eventually, her silky thighs and shapely legs were against me, her ankles bouncing against my ears. Before I let go, I just had to be certain; I mean this WAS my daughter's best friend.

Me: "Oh God, that feels so good; so warm, so tight. Your muscles in there are so strong. Sweetheart, I just have to know before I do something...are you on 'the Pill'?"

Julie: "Would it make you happy if I was on that pill?"

Me: "Happy? I don't know...I guess so."

Julie: "Well, then it's settled; I'm on that pill!"

I was totally confused, but I also had testes swollen with years' worth of pent-up passion. There must have been a gallon of cum in my reservoir and I couldn't wait any longer. I grabbed Julie's pert bum and held her tightly.

I came up against something like drawn leather. My God, Julie had been a virgin. With a desperation brought on by years of inaction, I burst thru her barrier and lodged my huge phallus deep inside of her cervical region. Then, my old 'family jewels' pulled tight against me before sending a shock wave thru both of us.

Six tidal waves of cum overwhelmed her innocent eighteen year old pussy. Her unprotected and oh-so-fertile womb received millions and millions of my sperm. I might have been slightly up there in years, but my 'little guys' could still hunt. They found her ovum and with flagella proudly flying, two out of a hundred million got in there.

I fell off of her, panting like the 'well-aged' man I was. Then she told me:

Julie: "So THAT was that 'something' that you were going to do! A-ha! Just a question; what WAS this 'PILL' that you kept asking about?"

Oops!! I kissed her on the forehead, telling her not to worry about it. I asked her if she would sleep with me that night. She hadn't planned on that but consented, to my joy.

I should've been a gentleman and asked her to 'clean out' given her naivety about 'The Pill'. I should've...but didn't. I assumed that if she got preggers by me, she'd tell me and I'd very proudly 'come through' for her. But, what were the odds that she would become pregnant anyway?

At about that time, two things were unknown to me. One, my beloved daughter had no date that night. Soon after I got into bed, awaiting the mocha, Julie had opened the kitchen back door for Helen to sneak in. She had heard and even seen almost everything that happened. She actually cried seeing how happy and relieved I was after it all went down.

That was one thing. The OTHER thing I didn't know happened after lights out. Ninety minutes after Julie and I snuggled together, she conceived.

As to my lovely daughter, she had turned 18 and could no longer be 'protected' from the world. With my (grudging?) consent, she entered the social world. With the help of Julie and her extended band of 'friends' on Facebook and Twitter, she began to get matched up. From zero boyfriends she soon had eighteen potential first dates. She chose one on looks alone.

Helen asked me 1,000 things. Sadly, without her mother around, only a fraction of those questions could be answered. My only advice was to 'play defense' with a guy...any guy. She thought I was just joking...my bad.

David was a nice enough guy. For the first date he showed up in jeans but with a business jacket and tie. I think he was just trying to mollify a doting father, i.e. me. They proceeded to have a weekly date for a month solid.

One weekend I had flown to California for a conference on new interstate commerce products and regulations. It was scheduled to take a week. Then a moderate earthquake occurred in the area and the conference had to be concluded early.

As I dragged into my home after a wasted trip, I was about to call out to Helen when I heard some serious bumping or thumping in her room. That darn door again was ajar; I had to stand and watch in silence.

What I saw was jaw-dropping. I am not gay...I've never been 'in touch with my feminine side.' Having said that, this guy was as handsome as my daughter was fair and lovely. Here was this perfect couple having the most beautiful act of love I had ever seen. Normally, seeing some kid between the silky thighs and golden legs of my precious daughter would've set me off.

Well, instead of grabbing a baseball bat, I just had to watch in awe as this handsome dude was on top of my golden girl. I could hear the gentle slap of their perfect bodies as they moved in unison. His hands caressed her breasts, his thumbs up against her erect nipples.

He would lower himself and take one then the other sensitive nipple in his mouth. Then he would either rise up above her or settle down to a quiet kiss.

All of this time, his hips moved relentlessly. They didn't go 'around the world'; she didn't even get to be a cowgirl. No, he knew what he wanted and my gorgeous daughter surrendered to his will. The tempo sped up as did her moans. Finally, as if in a porn video and on cue, they came together.

I could see his lower parts tensing and untensing as I was sure he was emptying himself into my precious daughter. I was truly conflicted. Concerned, horrified, I also realized that this was a moment of 'passage' for her. Silently, I left the scene, never to discuss it.

It would have been a simple and happy story to report that this perfect couple ended up happily ever after. Well, we all know life doesn't work that way. This guy was good, damn good.

In fact, he was a 'big game hunter' and he finally figured out that my daughter had no huge 'dowry'; she was just a girl. He moved on to richer hunting fields. My daughter was confused; I had to explain to her just a little about the world out there.

Helen was fixed up with this wealthy scion of a prominent family. He seemed nice enough. A whirlwind romance led to marriage. The romance was so abbreviated that I got the feeling that the groom didn't want people (i.e. me) getting to know him too well.

What was unknown outside of his family was that this was their 'black sheep'. He'd chosen a path far from the Ivy League. He had addictions that he could mask....for a while...

To my utter shock and sadness, Helen was moving away. They were going to Kentucky. Helen re-assured me that with cellphone, iPhone, etc. we could speak every-day. People always SAY that when they're going away but never follow thru...I knew better but didn't have the heart to say it.

Sure enough, our correspondence got briefer and briefer. Helen never once hung up on me but her increasingly churlish boyfriend did. He was always mad at me, accusing me of stealing his damn iPhone. Well, one day he just told me flat out that she wasn't going to call anymore nor accept my calls. I didn't want to interfere in their marriage and so we had 'radio silence'.

I wrote to my baby, only to get nothing back. For weeks, this was the norm. Then, one day as I cleaned out her room, I was amazed to stumble across his iPhone. Either he'd left it there or Helen had taken it.

Oh well, it sat on my dresser until I saw that news blurb about iPhone having a secret memory of every call location that was used for the last year. Well, there were a lot of calls from just outside the campus of the junior college in our town: Nothing interesting there.

Wait...there were more calls just south of the biggest high school. In fact, virtually all of his calls were from these two locations or were made in transit.

I thought back to what my baby had said about her husband's business. He was a wholesaler of school memorabilia, selling directly to the students. All of a sudden, that 'business' sounded pretty scary.

Worse, Kentucky was one of the drug capitals of the country, along with Texas and California. I read that there was everything from home-made meth to exotic pot in those bluegrass covered hills.

It looked like I was to go on a quest. Putting my business in the capable hands of my general manager, I headed out to the beautiful state of Kentucky.

I got to the address and there was no house, no land, nothing. I realized that I had the wrong address and turned to leave. As I was halfway down the block, I was amazed to see a pickup truck cross the sidewalk, drive up to a fence. The driver got out, used a key to open this gate covered in foliage, drove in and locked it behind him.

I drove back and was startled to find the sidewalk and fence intact as if no gate was even there. I just parked and found that gate, heavily padlocked. I had no choice; I always traveled 'packing' and used my Ruger .40 caliber auto to shoot the hell out of that Master lock. Putting the small frame auto in my belt loop, I walked in.

Being a scion of a wealthy family, I assumed that this kid would have a house to put mine to shame. Instead, there was a home from the 1950's—a cookie cutter tract home. As I neared it, I could hear yelling and some crying by my precious baby.

I told myself NOT to use my 'heat' unless I had to. I DID kick in the door, only to see this sawed-off punk in a tattered tee-shirt, surrounded by little lunch bags and Glad bags filled with odd items.

Then, horror of horrors: Seated, taking the brunt of his abuse was Helen. It was clear that he had hit her...repeatedly. Like the bully that he was, now confronted, he offered no resistance at all.

When I saw that she had been severely pounded facially, I was THIS close to dispatching him. With my last ounce of resolve, I deployed my cell and called 9-11.

He was processed and arraigned. There were so many counts that his public defender wanted a deal. With the influence of another lawyer flown in by his wealthy family, his life sentence was only going to be five years!

Meanwhile, I had to collect what was left of my daughter. As the physician in the OR said, she had suffered repeated 'insults' to the facial region. As they had not been attended to on a timely basis, he warned me that there might not be full recovery.

On the day of the surgery, the physician came out looking glum indeed. He had done a wonderful job, the best that could be hoped for. He had, he said, 'run out of time' for the operation and had to stop. There would be follow-ups, to be sure, but the risk of making her face into connective tissue was such that he wouldn't recommend it.

I rushed in to see my baby, who was swathed in bandages. The doctor, a slight delicate man of forty, left us alone. When my daughter awoke, she had such an explosion of sadness, joy, relief, and horror, all at the same time that it was just too much for her. I cradled her for the tears.

She asked me what the prognosis was. The doctor, unlike any of us laypeople, could tell even thru the swelling what she'd look like. He warned me.

On the day of the bandage cutting, the nurse was there. The doctor had been called away on an emergency. Helen was upset that he wasn't there, and more upset when she grabbed the mirror from the nurse to look closely.