The Harvest

"What do you want?"

You're impressed at how quickly Ashley's mood flips. One moment she's the playful little girl you left ten years ago and the next, a jaded rich brat you wouldn't even recognize in passing. Jessica has that effect on people; you know that firsthand.

"No, I'm not doing your stupid father-daughter date night shit," Ashley yells. "If you want Paul out the house so bad figure out how to convince him yourself."

She drifts toward the glass wall far enough away that you can't make out Jessica's exact reply. You can tell it's

loud

, loud enough to be heard several feet away without speaker. With every bark of the phone Ashley gets angrier and angrier until you're certain a full-blown mother-daughter screaming match will break out in your gym room. Worried she'll volley her plan to move in with you as ammunition, you make your move. Cautiously, of course. Demented though she may be your ex-wife is nothing if not cunning. Announcing your renewed presence in her daughter's life would give away the element of surprise and guarantee her interference in your plan.

You slide silently back into Ashley's field of vision with your own finger on your lips this time. The moment you have her attention you play charades with your palm and index finger until she finally gets the hint, thinks about it for a second and then finally, to your relief, hangs up.

Just when you think she's calmed down, she throws her phone on the matted ground with a violent heave.

"FUCK!"

You pick up that latest Apple product to find it intact, and give her space to cool off. Her behavior's unacceptable in the long run but a golden opportunity for you in the now. The cracks absent from her screen are instead buried in her foundation. You'd planned to break her down a bit and build her back up, but luckily for you Jessica's parenting has spared what remains of your conscience the dirty work.

Claire chooses the perfect moment to come back from her potty break. A suspiciously long one either way, you think. You'll have to check the floor later; you wouldn't put it past this little slut who reminds you of Jessica in all the wrong ways to sneak a camera into your bathroom on a whim.

"Ooh, Mommy dearest was it." She takes your silence for her answer. "Don't see Ash that pissed over anything. Was her mom such a crazy bitch when you married her?"

"No," you lie.

You'd known Jessica's true nature from the moment you saw her; you were eighteen, not a moron. The night you were assigned to wait a table for two at that tony Italian restaurant you worked at, the most beautiful girl you'd ever met had winked at you from her high school boyfriend's lap. You'd fucked her like a cheap whore two separate times in the bathroom during your breaks. Filled her unsuspecting date's cup with water, in between filling

her

with a pussy full of what might have in nine months become Alex.

Or so you'd thought. You'd been arrogant. Not so to believe you could ever earn the loyalty of someone utterly incapable, but enough to picture yourself simply never giving her a reason to stray. You'd even relished the challenge, reasoning that she would keep you hungry and sharp against the tides of time. The two of you were a pair of lions in a world full of sheep; compatible in a way you'd mistaken for love or something close to it.

In bed Jessica

was

made for you, the statue to your perverse Pygmalion. Her nymphomaniac appetite proved the wellspring to your never-ending thirst; her masochist streak, the release valve for your darkest desires. You'd brutalize her in ways that would send even your bravest fucktoy running, ream her holes gaping and raw and only ever be begged for more. No matter how lacking you'd found every girl thereafter, you'd always reach satisfaction when you closed your eyes and imagined her instead. Her and no one else.

Until now.

You're too preoccupied studying the way Ashley's perfect features contort to notice how close Claire's approach gets until you feel two pointed nubs press against the small of your back. You turn to find your suspicions confirmed. She'd taken off her bra in the bathroom, baring the mouthwatering outline of her perky nipples under that snug top.

"What?" she teases when she catches you staring. "I thought I'd make myself comfortable."

The temptation is strong. Claire might be nothing at all to you, but you're still wound up after Melody's disappointment yesterday and this nubile teen is offering herself on a silver platter. It would be all too easy to drag her upstairs right now, throw her onto your bed and find some release in that tight little body of hers.

All you know you can do is endure it.

________________________________________________________________

Luckily for your sake, she only tortures you for a few minutes before Ashley recomposes herself and reminds the slut of some social obligation you couldn't care enough about to ask even a single polite question. When Claire drives off, you realize with no car of her own Ashley can only mean to stay the night. Of course, you downplay your delight.

"Won't Jessica wonder where you are?"

Ashley scoffs. Another bratty tendency she's picked up. "Too drunk on dicks to give a shit. I'll say sleepover at Claire's house if she asks."

"Language," you chide with abundant levity. You don't actually care, but getting her even the slightest bit used to your authority again can only help. "Good to hear she hasn't kicked the old orgy habit. Does the guy she's seeing not know or did he just bury his head in the sand?

"Who cares? Paul's dumb but at least he's not one of the creeps who pervs on me when she's not around."

You get a pang of

something

. Whether it's sympathy for Ashley or vindication for your long-lost custody case you don't know, but it lingers longer than any emotion you've felt in a while.

"I'm sorry," you say. "For not fighting harder for your sake. All three of you."

"Don't kick yourself, old man. Only Alex holds that grudge and she's got a stick so far up her ass it should count as a colonoscopy."

You get a genuine chuckle out of that. "How is she? And Kristen too while we're at it."

"Kris is good, we still talk once in a while. Alex not so much."

"That's a shame. Why?"

"Pre-MBA big shot at Columbia. Either she's too busy or just thinks we're not worth her time anymore."

You stew over that. Not because you're surprised by her prestige; Alex was the book-smart one to begin with and as new parents, you and Jessica had also been strictest with her. But she'd always seemed such a doting eldest sister, never distant or aloof. The girl who would ghost Ashley is not the girl you raised.

None of them are anymore, you think.

________________________________________________________________

For the first time in ten years you cook dinner for Ashley. Nothing fancy, far from the caliber of fine dining you churned out of an industrial kitchen over your career. What you put your heart and soul into is recreating the taste of her early childhood. Certainly not an act of pure fatherly love on your part; you're not sure you ever knew the meaning in the first place. But it isn't an act of deception per se.

"God," she moans between mouthfuls of sauced pasta. "I missed this so much."

Your motivation is selfish in a way. This humblest of meals partaken in your grand open-concept dining space is as much a religious experience for you as for her, a communion steeped in nostalgia as potent as any high you've ever felt. You've missed having this bond in your life no matter what form it may take. For a moment you even hush your baser instincts to watch her eat, alluring as she is, with only that noblest pleasure of emotional intimacy in mind.

The beautiful moment comes crashing to a halt when in her zeal to stuff her face, Ashley chokes on a huge gulp of water and dribbles it all over herself. Like her friend she isn't wearing a bra. And while her dress is padded, those thin cups of fabric soaked wet turn

sheer

.

That veiled glimpse of her dusky buds peaked by the chill gets you so erect it aches. You immediately imagine taking a nipple into your mouth, picture making her choke on something entirely less innocent. The beast inside urges you to rip off that sundress and take her right there on your lovely oak floor, willing or otherwise. Of course you won't, at least not while your self-control remains. But you do know then and there that you will never be satisfied just having her company or even her love. You'll have her body too, by any means necessary.

By the time Ashley's done coughing you've already averted your eyes, that mental snapshot already tucked away. She immediately notices her wardrobe malfunction, covers herself with dainty hands barely big enough to hold her breasts and asks you for a change of clothes. With no women's wear lying around you go to your room to fetch her a clean T-shirt of your own. You come back downstairs to another stimulating surprise.

Ashley's taken her dress off.

She's not truly topless hunched in her seat with the fabric folded over her chest, though plenty of her bronzed skin is exposed to you including the sides of her tight belly. You pass her your shirt with arm extended fully across the table, out of not respect for her modesty but rather the fear that you'll go erect again if you get close enough to catch a glimpse of her panties.

"Dad?" She's embarrassed. You can hear it plain and clear. "Can you turn around? Please?"

It takes every bit of self-control you've learned in your forty years but you manage to resist taking a peek.

________________________________________________________________

The rest of your evening together is uneventful. Ashley does her homework in the living room and picks out an episode of some insipid reality show to watch together on your gigantic plasma TV. You suffer through the hour of dramatic idiocy with only her snarky commentary and the feeling of her head on your shoulder as solace.

Bedtime arrives not a second too soon. You show Ashley to her room, comfortable and spacious if not as luxurious as yours next door. She loves it. You leave her to her devices and go through the motions of your nighttime routine waiting for your exhaustion to overtake your pent-up agitation. When you press an ear to her door to see if she's still up before heading to bed yourself, you hear something that would leave you waiting until morning and beyond.

Moaning. Intermittent bursts of noise muffled by hand or pillow, but not near as soft as she must think.

Your heart beats so furiously you pull your chest away from the door in some irrational fear that she'll hear it. Your cock is iron tenting your boxers, the tip soaking through with pre-cum already. Ashley's vocally pleasuring herself in your house, near your own room. And she's too clever to believe that comes with no risk of being heard. You want so desperately to believe she

wants

you to hear her but the far more rational explanation's almost as good.

She simply can't help herself. A legendary libido like her mother's, which demanded multiple rounds of cock or tongue every day to sate.

You slip back into your own bed quietly, grab lube from your nightstand and go to work. You've never had to masturbate twice in a row in your life; your little girl is the ultimate exception. You want so badly to be in that room right now using your own hand on her, readying her to receive your cock and its potent load. You thrust away into your slippery hand wondering what her pussy looks like. Hairy or shaven, pink or dark, folds protruding or hidden, you'd lovingly fill it any and every way. Too abstract. You return to tonight's precious glimpse of her nipples branded in your memory. In your mind you peel that dress down to free those lovely tits and press her head down gently until she kneels before you. You reverse your grip and tighten only your thumb and index finger to imitate the seal of her full lips bobbing up and down your length. The sudden jolt of cerebral pleasure makes you hiss. You picture feeding yourself patiently, incrementally into her hot mouth until the tip enters her throat just far enough to make her gag the tiniest bit. And that proves too much for you both in mind and body. You explode into searing ecstasy before promptly crashing back down to reality.

In post-orgasmic clarity your plan takes concrete form. You'll nurture that seed of attraction inside her. You'll mold that daughterly affection into absolute respect. And when the time is right you'll overstimulate her libido until her fingers alone no longer satisfy, and provide the best and only outlet you'll let her find.

You sleep well that night.