One of the biggest mistakes I ever made was to start keeping a diary, it was also one of the best things that I ever did. I started jotting things down when I was twelve and as I grew up my entries grew more and more detailed until I was writing everything in my diary and I mean everything. My hopes, my dreams, and my wishes they all got written down. When my periods started and finished, my first time with a man, my most recent sexual adventure, who, where, when, how and how many times, it all went into my diary. At seventeen I had gone through a lot of diaries, each one was lovingly wrapped and stored in my dresser, each one containing memories to be read and savoured and each damned one containing at least one entry a month detailing what I felt for my father.
It was my greatest secret, my greatest shame and my greatest desire all rolled into one, I wanted to have sex with my father. I'd had this desire since I was eleven and over the years it had grown rather than diminished, but I knew that it could never be. Nevertheless I wrote all the things I wanted my father to do to me in my diaries in full, glorious detail, I could climax just reading some of those entries. The latest diary was the worst of the lot, each week contained an entry detailing what I wanted my father to do to me ranging
The trouble started when my stepmother found my diaries. They all had locks, but she was a nosy cow and the locks were simple affairs that could be opened with a pin; I came home from school to find her fuming in the living room with one of my early diaries in her hand.
"You dirty minded little bitch!" she spat at me waving the diary in the air.
Seeing the diary I knew that there was no point in playing dumb so I played outraged instead, snatching the diary from her hand I glared at my stepmother.
"Just who the hell do you think you are prying into my private things?" I snarled, "It's bad enough you go digging around in my room, but to pick the lock on one of my diaries is going way too far!"
"Not far enough by the looks of it," she snapped back, "you are sick, perverted! Just wait until your father hears about this, he'll have you put away!"
There was no love lost between my step-mother and myself, there never had been, I had hated her from the moment I had met her; I saw the side of her my father never seemed to notice, the vicious, scheming, spiteful side, but I had never mentioned it to my father as I knew he loved her. She had filled the gap left in his heart when my mother had died. The thought of her telling my father what was in my diaries filled me with dread, dad was broad minded, but even he would be sickened by what he read. I knew pleading with my stepmother not to tell my father would do no good so I did the only thing I could do under the circumstances, went to my room and cried. I retreated with my stepmother railing me all the way up the stairs, slamming my door I threw myself on my bed and wept like a little girl. My father would be home all too soon and I just knew that the first thing he would hear was all about the entries in my diaries. Looking over at my dresser I saw that the drawer where I kept my diaries was still open, the diaries themselves were strewn all over the dresser and floor, sniffing back my tears I went over to the dresser and gathered the diaries together. Every one of them had been opened, my step-mother had really done a job on them and must have spent ages going through them, sighing I replaced them in the drawer, closed it then headed back to my bed. From downstairs I heard the sound of the front door opening and I knew that my father was home, my step-mother's rasping voice greeted him in the hall and even through my closed bedroom door I could hear her shouting out her news, wiping my eyes I headed for the door to face the music.
"Disgusting, quite disgusting!" my stepmother was saying in her prim, 'butter-wouldn't-melt-in-my-mouth' voice.
I looked at my father, his face was livid, I had never seen him looking so angry and for a moment I wondered if he would do what my stepmother had claimed he would do, have me locked up in a sanatorium. My heart sank as he looked in my direction, there was disgust in his eyes, it broke my heart to think that what I had written would drive my father from me and I felt tears streaming down my face as my cheeks went red with shame.
"Shut up Grace!" Dad snapped at my stepmother.
"What? But I..." she gaped.
"SHUT UP!" Dad roared, "I've heard just about enough out of you. How dare you got through Lisa's things? Just what gives you the right to pry into other people's private affairs?"
"But Adam," she gasped, "I was only..."
I couldn't believe what I was hearing, my father wasn't angry with me he was angry with her, but despite that I knew that he would soon turn his attention to me and I dreaded that moment.
"You were only nosing around, prying into matters that don't concern you!" Dad went on in a low voice full of anger, "The same way you pry into my business papers and don't even dare to deny it. I've let you get away with murder Grace, I've even turned a blind eye to all your fancy men, but not this time, oh no."
"Adam I don't know what you mean." my step-mother said haughtily, "I've always been faithful to you."
"What you mean is you've always come back to me!" Dad snapped, "Not the same thing at all. Well it's over Grace, finished. I got a call from your latest lover today, he called me some rather nasty names because I wouldn't give you a divorce..."
My stepmother had gone pale as my father spoke, it was a shock to me to learn that she had been having lovers, but in hindsight I don't know why I was so surprised about it. She was just the sort of woman to act that way, dad was her meal ticket, and the rest were her fun.
"I put his mind at rest," Dad continued, "he'll be here in an hour to pick you up. You'd better go and pack all your things because I don't want you within a mile of this house again!"
She tried to sweet-talk him into changing his mind, but the blinkers had been torn from his eyes and he would have none of her sugary words; even her tears didn't affect him and she retreated sobbing to pack her bags. Then my father turned his attention to me, I gulped in anticipation of his outburst.
"Go to your room Lisa." He said quietly then turned away from me.
Stunned I watched him trudge into the living room; with a sob I ran up to my room and threw myself on my bed. I'd been ready for anything but that quiet dismissal, it had hurt me more than a thousand sharp words would have done. In my heart I knew that he didn't love me any more and I sobbed into my pillow desolately. Some time later I heard my step-mother going down the stairs, pleading and wailing at my father to let her stay, not to throw her out; my father's reply was so loud that I heard every word of it in my room.
"Throw you out?" Dad roared, "Be glad I don't toss you through that door on your fanny! After your latest lover called I did a bit of digging, you've been at it since the day we got back from our honeymoon, I've got some professionals working on it now and everything they find will be brought out in court! God what a blind fool I've been!"
"At least I've only committed adultery!" my stepmother screeched back, "I don't have perverted fantasies about my father!"
"Probably because you don't know who he is!" Dad retorted, "And just for your education, almost all children, boy or girl, get a crush on their mother or father, they grow out of it which is more than can said for you! Now get out!"
The front door slammed loudly and then there was silence, ages passed as I sat crying alone while I waited for my father to call me down, with every minute that passed my visions of his punishment grew to horrifying proportions, I imagined him being on the telephone calling a sanatorium to take me away. I nearly jumped out of my skin when there was a gentle tap-tap at the door to my room.
"Come in." I sniffed trying to stop the flow of my tears.
My father came into the room, he looked at me and smiled.
"Well," He sighed sadly, "you did warn me. Ah well, it's over now."
"Dad," I rushed in, "about my diaries..."
"I'm sorry about that Lisa," Dad sighed as he came over to me, "I never really believed what Grace was truly like although I think I knew it all along but just didn't want to accept it."
I was very puzzled, my father was apologising to me for what had happened, it was as though he was unconcerned with my sick desires, my heart leapt at the thought that he was not going to punish me or send me away.
"You won't send me away will you?" I blurted in my relief.
"Why on earth would I send you away?" He laughed.
"For what I wrote," I sighed, "the things I want...I mean wanted to do with you."
"Oh that," He grinned, "Lisa I've known about those things that you wrote for years. Who do you think kept your room tidy until recently? Not Grace, that's for sure and definitely not a growing little girl."
"You read them?" I gasped in surprise.
"Only when you left them lying around unlocked." He grinned as he sat on the bed beside me, "I have to admit that I was a little surprised the first time I came across an entry about me, but after a while I felt flattered. You certainly do have a fertile imagination though young lady."
"You really don't mind?" I gaped at him.
"Not in the least." He replied with a laugh, "I used to have the same sort of fantasies about my mother. Anyway, you should know me better than that, I don't give a damn what people do as long as they..."
"Don't hurt anyone." I finished for him, "But incest?"
.... There is more of this story ...