Flubberguts and Me
Caution: This Romantic Sex Story contains strong sexual content, including Ma/Fa, Consensual, Romantic, Heterosexual, Oral Sex,
Desc: Romantic Sex Story: Chapter 1 - Just a happy family home with a sting in the tail
I have no idea why I woke up when I did. The bedside clock was blinking 1.00am, so we must have had a blackout about an hour ago. This was not so much a rarity but something to take note of and change as soon as I could find my watch and the light switch. Moonlight was streaming through the open curtains and open widow behind the bed; it must be a full moon and I hadn't noticed before.
The cold yellow moonlight reflected off the naked body lying, facing away, on top of the sheets beside me. Her long mousy coloured hair was strewn over the spare pillow between us like so much seaweed washed up on coastal rocks. It was too warm and humid a November night to have bedclothes over you and the almost perfect curved line from below her shoulder over her slightly immature hips down to her spread thighs caught my attention as a sign of perfection in design. It fascinated me for a time until I came back to reality realising I had meant to find my watch and adjust the time so we didn't sleep in.
I fumbled in the shadow over the bedside table and placed my hand on my glasses and, directly under them my old wristwatch. The moonlight made it possible to read the hands but the need I still had, that pang of irritability because I needed, was forced, by my aging body to use the reading glasses always sent an irrational pang of annoyance through me. Get over it Perkins! 3.45am. I picked up the clock and drew the cord over towards me until I could differentiate between the top time buttons and the alarm set buttons in the moonlight. I didn't want to disturb the Angel with switching on the bedside light but this did make everything so much more awkward.
My fiddling around caused the waterbed to wave a little, but she only turned onto her back giving me another perfect line, over a handful sized breast down the ski slope, down over her flat perfect bellybutton and into the soft curly down of her maturing pubic hair. The almost colourless pudenda peeked through from below the vee marking the beginning where her legs were now splayed widely trying to relieve the humid discomfort. The sight engrossed me for an almost interminable length of time - far more important than the sleep that I was missing. My love for my Angel was almost a discomforting pain in my chest.
The lightning storms that had been plaguing the area all evening seemed to have left without relieving the unpleasant mugginess. In the distant towards the coast occasional flashes still occurred - it must a bit rough out at sea at this moment. I had been hoping the small southerly change which struck early yesterday evening, would have blown away the two week long unseasonable hot spell. No such luck. The fact that my Angel had run to daddy for protection from the hated lightning and thunder from her own bed, and I hadn't noticed, just showed how tired I must have been last night, and leaving me wondering how long it would be until she would feel she was too old to run for comfort to her daddy any more. The fact alone that she was in here did not surprise me in the slightest as she had been doing just this since she was two years old, jumping into the safety between her mother an myself and consistently did it even after her mother left us. The only thing that changed was that she no longer deemed it necessary to wear the little bunny rabbit pyjamas, which her mother had always insisted on. Now fourteen she had gone from pyjamas to training bras and panties, to sans bra and into nothing whatsoever in the space of time barely longer than the blink of an eye.
I suppose I should think myself lucky that Angel's friend Mel the Bitch, now legally my ward, hadn't taken fright and joined me as well. Her room though, was further inside the house, muffled from the outside elements by having no windows and only a skylight for lighting and ventilation. That would have thrown the tacit spectre of sex into the mixture; I didn't want to face that ghost. She'd taken to leaving her door open all the time, no matter her state of dress or that what she had been doing should be private, insisting that "Daddy's Little Angel" could do it and seeing she was now my daughter too, she could as well; So there! I know they both used tampons, after all I bought the damned things in the weekly shop, but my Angel applied them in the toilet, bathroom or wherever, which seemed the private thing to do. Mel saw both my and Angel's comfort with each others skin as permission to masturbate while watching me, always watching me, from her bed through her open bedroom door. Trouble is that she's not my daughter. When I fronted her, in the presence of my daughter they both just laughed at me; silly old daddy.
The phantom thought about Mel the Bitch left an uncomfortable fear of the unknown behind the total contentment I'd previously had with the relationship I shared with my Angel, my daughter. That Mel would cause disquiet in our almost perfect relationship worried me more than a little. Nothing innocent or even coy about the Bitch - with which Angel had dubbed her long before I'd ever met her. They'd had one of those classic love/hate relationships for the couple of years they'd shared a common high school class, then the distant relative she had been boarding with kicked her out. Though they'd still wanted the money she received from the government for letting Mel stay there, they couldn't stand the girl any more than her own mother, or seemingly distantly separated father could. Call me an old softie but I couldn't understand how family, and supposedly adults, could treat a child this way.
That my girl would come running to me still gave me hope. I didn't have that same hope for Mel who stared at me through old/young eyes and watched us for signs of my interfering with her friend - after all that is what had consistently happened to her in her past - why would I be any different to every other male she had known? Except that I didn't, hadn't, wouldn't or couldn't. I couldn't even see my Angel as a sexual being. I'd changed her nappies, wiped her bum, showed her how to insert a tampon, mopped up the blood when she'd broken her hymen in a fall whilst riding her first "big kids" bike. Yes, I also gave her "the talk" when I discovered her masturbating with her duds off on the lounge; but that's not sex, just pressure relief. I just made her understand that others wouldn't view what she was doing as no different than an intentional sneeze (that's how I saw it) and that she had to be a little more circumspect around outsiders (like using snuff I said - then I had to explain about snuff and... God, simple things sometimes can get very complicated). However she no longer viewed Mel as a visitor and Mel watched everything with jealous eyes not wanting to be treated differently. Mel's taken to leaving the bathroom door open, "to let the steam out". I've taken to cooking tea when she has her shower.
I couldn't stop my mind working so I reached for the book on the table with the booklight already attached and... Angel woke me five minutes before the alarm was due to go off with a groan of release and a huge plunging in the mattress of the waterbed. I looked at her over the book covering my face; she was licking her fingers and looking at me with a relaxed smile. I whispered with my morning croaky voice, "Good Morning my angel."
She replied quietly, "Good morning my Daddy. I hope I didn't wake you." I glanced at the clock and pressed the sleep button.
"No, that was good timing Angel. Time to get up Baby. I'll start making breakfast if you'll make the beds. However, I'm busting for a leek."
"Well duh! I can see that. So am I!"
"Yeah! Well I'm closest to the toilet so I'll get there first!"
So, of cause she got there first because I had to put on my shorts to keep my modesty intact from other possibly prying eyes.
I knocked on Mel's open door loudly telling her it was time to get up. I kept my eyes focussed up the hallway towards the front door and kept on going to the kitchen.
Bacon, eggs with some baked beans on the side. The bacon, which took longest, was started and my handy electric can opener was opening a can of baked beans. Mel's hair was everywhere - including all over her face - as she startled me standing between the breakfast bar and the fridge blocking the kitchen entrance. She had on her purple bra with the white school uniform blouse hanging open, unbuttoned; and no panties or skirt. "Mr P. I'm out of undies. Have you done a wash?"
"I put your clean clothes on the end of your bed yesterday. There must have been almost twenty pairs of those thing you call panties on there." I keep two old pillowcases specifically to wash each girl's g-strings and they take one peg per panty to hang on the line (actually I keep three but why will be understood later). Twenty panties, twenty pegs and if you add my Angel's dozen or so pair, which I did; all in all they take up slightly less than a foot of line. I've therefore got to make a special effort to wash the damn things and therefore I do notice them. Luckily for peace in the house Mel's are at least two sizes larger than my skinny arsed Angel so they can't fight over which belong to whom. The bras are becoming a bit problematical however.
"Oh." She moaned and went back to her room. From the rear it looks like her arse was starting to put on some flab. I'll see if she will take up netball with my Angel to get some exercise. At the moment the only exercise she seems to get is running after some rather strange looking boys and the aforementioned masturbation, neither of which is likely to help in the removal of a flabby arse. I think I'm feeding her too much. I put the second bit of bacon I'd earmarked for her onto my plate; I'm already fat. The eggs took less than a minute and the toast popped as I called out for the starving homeless waifs to get their breakfast.
Both girls came out dressed but I know that I've never shortened either of their uniform skirts to that level and something looked wrong with Mel. "Couldn't you find your washing Melinda Barbara?" With a mouthful of egg and toast she didn't look directly at me and just shook her blonde head. I'd swear blonde jokes were made for this kid. Of course she looked a bit odd sitting on a stool with her skirt above her, almost invisible blonde pubic patch, her knees spread wide apart. I could almost lip read the little bitch! I put my knife and fork down and went down to her bedroom. The blankets and sheets were strewn on the floor at the foot of the bed. Gently lifting the mass of bedclothes back onto the end of the bed revealed the neatly washed and folded clothes, including about twenty pair of g-strings, crumpled in a pile. I picked one odd shaped piece of string matching her bra colour and placed them beside her breakfast plate, "I do expect you to go to school dressed, girl. After you've finished breakfast, both of you can unroll your skirts to legal length. You are of course wearing undies aren't you Angel?"
Neither looked up, just nodding and staring at the remnants on their plates. Angel broke the silence by giggling then both of them broke up laughing. I just shook my head. Do I look that stupid? I took their empty plates to the sink and when I turned back they had both removed their skirts by slipping them down their legs and were about unrolling the waist until the skirts were full length again. Either Angel starts shaving her pubes or she gets larger type undies next undie shopping time. Christmas is five weeks away, there's a thought. After standing through the skirts again, doing up the top buttons and zipping up the side they both went to the bathroom and noisily competed like two cats in a bag for the mirror and sink. As they walked past the kitchen to catch the bus I handed Mel the purple scrap of material she had left on the breakfast bar giving her an expressionless look. My Angel laughed and clapped loudly, jumping up and down. Mel stood into them near the closed front door, staring into my eyes as she raised the skirt around her waist; she fitted the side straps over her hips the crutch disappeared inside her. There was no blushing and those eyes staring into mine looked a hundred years old. The girls finally left the premises with little pecks on my cheeks from both of them.
I'd like to thank Rob H for editing my stilted writing style into English as she is spoken.