You haven’t seen real beauty until you’ve seen my daughter walking slowly down the lane in a white dress that kisses the grass. I always knew that I’d see her like this one day; I never dreamed I’d be the man waiting on the other end.
When she appeared, my knees weakened.
She’d sewn her own dress, the only reason I hadn’t insisted on a nude ceremony, and hidden it jealously from me for weeks.
Kat was barefoot and nearly bare-breasted. Her long trailing skirt divided at the waist into two intricately woven lace bands that parted around the curve of her pregnant belly, then widened to barely cover her breasts and circle her neck. Her hair was bound up in a veil and her eyes shone through it all, locked on me from start to end of the aisle.
When I saw her, I knew it was always going to be this way. How could I ever have been the man to give her away? How could I not be the man to hold on to her forever?
It was only after the vows, after I slipped her mother’s wedding band onto Kat’s finger, after we had our first kiss as husband and wife that I learned what Agatha had done.
We’d come inside under a curtain of summer rain to the meal that was to be our reception dinner to find the boy.
“Hunter?” Kat gasped.
He was leaning against the wall, wearing a tuxedo as if he had been invited. I turned to Agatha. She looked at me with arms crossed and a smirk on her face.
“Can we talk?” Hunter said, eyes only for my wife and daughter.
Kat looked at me. I could see in her clear eyes that there was no answer I could give her but “yes.” So, I nodded.
I caught her smile as she turned back to her old boyfriend and they stepped outside together. I watched them for a moment through the window, saw her nod, him frown. He touched her belly.
“You did this,” I said to Agatha. “Why?”
“They have unfinished business,” she said.
“She is none of his business. She’s mine now. Only mine.”
“Not legally,” Agatha said. “And she has to know what she’s missing by not branching out of this house.”
I looked away from the pair of them, the lightness in my heart had been replaced by a stone in my belly. Outside, the soft rain misted over their heads, beading on Hunter’s earnest forehead.
“And if she chooses me?”
Agatha came over to me and pressed her two hands to my cheeks to draw me into her eyes.
“If she still chooses you, honestly, I will never speak of this again. If she’s happy, I’ll let her be, but I’ll never live in this house again.”
“You’re still my wife.”
Agatha took her hands from my face and drew the wedding band off of her left finger. It clicked as she placed it down on the counter beside us. Then she draped her hands around my neck as though ready for the music to start.
“If she chooses him, I still choose you,” she said. “Even after this.”
Over her shoulder, I saw the couple move. Kat was standing with her back to the glass door. Hunter’s two thumbs were woven into the halter of her dress near the nap of her neck. He lifted it over her head and let it fall down to her waist.
My mouth went dry as he leaned into her neck, her breasts. Her fingers found his hair. She kissed him long and hard, then slid down his front and threaded his dick out of his pants and through her lips.
Agatha followed my gaze. She smiled.
“See,” she said. “Kat doesn’t know how to say no. That’s why this cannot work for you.”
One of Agatha’s hands was still on the back of my neck, but the other was sliding down to my pants. I was surprised for her to find me still hard from the ceremony–or hard again from watching my daughter blow her college boy.
I felt like I had those few short years ago when I’d caught her in the barn with another boy; how I’d watched her then and wanted her. How I’d spilled my seed alone.
I looked down and Agatha was there, a reflection of Kat, head bobbing vigorously out on the porch. My wife took my cock into her mouth. Her green eyes stared up at me.
Hunter threw off his coat jacket and left it to collect rainwater. He lifted Kat to her feet and spun her gently down onto the picnic table behind him. I saw her smiling face go by, then she kicked off the remainder of her dress to join his coat.
Hunter’s hands went searching over her belly, her breasts. His mouth pressed against her bare pussy. And it rained.
Agatha shrugged her way out of the black mourning dress she had donned for the occasion, and beneath it she was as naked as my daughter.
I let her help me out of my pants, then lifted her to her feet.
“She made her choice,” Agatha said.
“Shut up.”
I bent her body over the counter and spat between her thighs. Then, I thrust into her.
Outside, Hunter was standing up from a crouch and pulled down his pants. I watched his hips accelerate into my daughter the way mine had done so often. I knew she would be wet and slick for him, always ready and waiting. I could only see her legs tucked under his arms and the promise of her hair splayed out on the table as his ass thumped joyfully into her.
Every part of me wanted to go out there and rip them apart, replace his cock with mine, and claim her. I knew that Kat would accept me, even welcome me. But I knew that Agatha had been right. Kat had made a choice she had long been quietly struggling with. She had a problem saying ‘no’ to men, and I had taken advantage.
Instead, I directed it into her–all of my rage, all of my love. Agatha was eager for it. She backed her ass into me as excitedly as I rammed into her. But as she called out my name in tones loud enough to carry onto the porch, I had eyes only for Katherine.
I cursed at her and watched Hunter’s back while my daughter clawed at it from underneath him. I watched when he let her crawl into his lap, and I could see her breasts heave, eyes closed, skin dappled with rain, hair soaked and streaking over her shoulders, riding his cock.
Kat opened her eyes and they locked with mine. My daughter didn’t slow as she watched me thrusting into my wife. For a moment, we were synchronized again. Her hips in tune with my cock. Then, I thought I saw, or wanted to see, a tear mix with the rain, and she swooped down, covering Hunter’s chest with her breasts and kissed him.
I came with long ropes into Agatha’s pussy.
Afterwards, Kat and Hunter took our wedding dinner in her bedroom. Agatha and I ate together in the kitchen, wordlessly. Kat came out to say Hunter would stay the night, informing me like a daughter to a parent and we heard the sounds they made again.
I fucked Agatha again. And drank. And fucked again. Until Agatha was asleep in our bedroom and I was alone on the couch.
Kat came to me then, like she’d come to me alone in the living room so many times before. She found me a few glasses of whiskey in.
She was wearing his shirt. It fell down nearly to her knees.
“Agatha says I’m to let you choose him,” I said. I hadn’t meant it to sound cold, petulant.
“Adam,” she said.
“I’m your father.”
“Daddy,” she said. The word settled on my bones like a half-healed break.
She came up to me and sat down, placed the wedding band in my palm, then her mother’s engagement ring. I closed my fist around them.
“You can’t give it all back,” I said, my eyes on her belly. She placed a protective hand there.
“I wouldn’t want to,” she said. “But, it was wrong, wasn’t it?”
Her eyes flicked down and then up at me, blue and sad, like she wanted me to call her back, to make it okay again like only a father could.
“Yes.” I felt a sob building under my chest. “I’m sorry if I–”
She collapsed into me on the couch. A shower of kisses fell on me.
“No, Daddy,” she said. “You didn’t. It’s alright. I wanted it as much as you did, I–”
I pulled her face to mine and kissed her. Her mouth opened to mine. I felt her tears mingle with mine.
Then, I pulled her into my lap, meaning to hold her, but her legs fell around me like they had. I felt her nakedness beneath his shirt. I felt her wetness on my lap. She was grinding it against my rising cock.
I felt it all slip away. The restraint, the betrayal. The fever was on me again. I pulled myself free of my pants.
“Daddy, we can’t,” she groaned.
But her hips were moving against her will. I angled myself in and she came down slowly to be filled.
“I love you, Kitty,” I said.
No matter how many times I’d had Agatha that day, I could never be too spent for Katherine. Her lips hungered for mine. She humped and gyrated on my cock until she came in furious silence, the shirt slipping down to the crooks of her elbows so my mouth could taste her nipples.
Then, in minutes, I came inside of her and she slumped, exhausted, against me.
She left me with a dutiful kiss on the cheek, and was gone with Hunter in the morning.
I can’t say that it was the last time that I ever had sex with my daughter–I wouldn’t even swear to only her first child being mine–or that it was ever really the end of my feelings for her, but our wedding day was the last light of our romance.
Instead, I accepted what she was to me. My daughter. An echo of her mother. A memory that I longed for. What we’d had together had not been love, but lust. Not a father’s protection, but an old man’s indulgence.
And I’ll tell you, you’ve not seen beauty until you’ve seen your daughter, exhausted from the effort of childbirth, lying safely with your new granddaughter clutched to her breast.
