Chapter 2

William stood at the bottom of the stairs in the dark. The only source of light, a thin sliver coming from the hallway above through the bottom of his daughter's bedroom door. He stood listening, hearing her moving about, no doubt preparing for bed. Seconds later the light beneath the door turned off. He had nearly turned heading back to his own room, but now stood, needing to allow his eyes to readjust to the near total darkness. It was then that he heard a whimpering sound, faint ... just audible.

"She's crying," he thought, worried now, wondering what had happened. Obviously something must have, especially to have returned home so soon from her date, and on her birthday no less. He had tried hard to make this birthday special for her, though at a loss as to what to give her, he'd given her a card with two-hundred dollars tucked inside. She had thanked him politely, but hadn't even received so much as a hug or kiss for the effort. No real surprise. She might be his daughter, and he her father, but they were as estranged as any two people could possibly be. Their conversations, if they even had any, were short, clipped ... one worded responses back from her, if even that. Most of the time he got a look or shake of the head, yes ... no. That was about the full extent of their awkward relationship. Even though his heart reached out to her, he couldn't ... or wouldn't. William knew if he even tried, he would simply push her away from him even further. It was best to let Becky find her own way, if she needed or wanted his help or advise, he was hopeful she would come to him. Though he doubted those thoughts the moment he'd had them. Once again, he heard what he thought was another whimper, finally able to see better, and quietly taking the stairs upwards towards her room. What he thought he was doing, or could do as he did, remained a mystery even to him. But he was concerned. He had hoped that her birthday would have been something special, something to remember, but not if it had gone wrong.

And yet. The image of her standing there at the doorstep, kissing Bobby, his hands reaching down to actually cup her ass, revealing the fact that for whatever reason, she wasn't wearing panties, eluded him. William reached her doorway, standing off to one side of it in the hall, once again listening, trying to control his breathing as though Becky might overhear it and wonder what the hell he was doing outside her door. He heard her again, but it didn't sound like crying after all, but something else. She moaned! "Was she... ?" He wondered.

Becky was indeed frustrated. And her pillow just wasn't cutting it, not this time. Too wired to even try to sleep, she lay there recalling the moment's, the images as she played with Bobby's cock, and as he played with her tits and pussy. She had just started to feel something, something special ... when he'd cum all over her hand, though that too had been interesting and totally expected. She actually chastised herself for knowing even less than she thought she did. Determined now more than ever to rectify that. Indeed, another session with Bobby, and soon ... was in order. But for now, she needed something, she needed to feel that sensation again, reach it, discover what it meant, where it was going. She had felt robbed, denied, she had been on the verge of something, and now she was more determined than ever to find out what it was. Which is when a thought came to mind. Something she had only briefly entertained a while back now. Never repeating the attempt out of fear of discovery. But now with her mother no longer hovering over her all the time, it was as good as time as any to experiment with it once again. She rolled over in bed, turning on her bedside lamp.

William panicked, hearing the sound of his daughter's feet hitting the floor only moments after the light in her room came on. William knew he would never make it to the stairway without being seen, let alone being heard. And worse ... he'd been foolish enough to do this without any clothes on! How could he possibly explain that to his daughter if she were to see him? She'd immediately think him a perv, some kind of sexual deviant, spying on his own daughter, though in every sense of the word, he had been. Just not how she'd no doubt think him to be doing. That had not been his intent, but try and explain that one!

He had but once choice, and even that was risky, dangerous, and could still end up in disaster if he was found out. But it was better than simply standing here in the nude doing nothing as he heard Becky's soft foot-falls heading towards the door. He raced through the open door of the bathroom just across the hall. With luck, Becky would be heading downstairs for something to drink. But the odds were, she was coming into the bathroom instead. It was just lucky for him, that Carla had long ago turned the extra bedroom adjacent to it, into a wardrobe and dressing room for herself. She had never much cared for the smaller bathroom within their own room, and had used this one as her own personal bathroom instead. And though Becky had been forced to share it with her mother, the dressing room had remained exclusively her mother's and off limits. As far as William knew, Becky had never once ventured inside it, after all there was no real reason too. Even now it was filled with Carla's clothing that William hadn't had the time, nor inclination to deal with yet. He had barely ducked inside that room when he heard the door to his daughter's room opening and then closing. Carla had even had him remove the adjacent door long ago. The outer door in the hall was always locked anyway, but it made it easier and more convenient for her to have it this way, as well as vented the bathroom itself so that it never steamed up very much as she sat at the vanity table applying her makeup. William stood behind the wall, his heart beating a hundred miles and hour. All Becky had to do was step into the dressing area where he stood, finding her own father standing there naked. There would be no plausible, reasonable explanation for it if she did.

Becky stepped into the bathroom turning on the light, closing and locking the door behind her. She leaned over turning on the water in the tub, feeling it as it ran until reaching just the right temperature. She then removed the robe she had hurriedly tossed on, hanging that on a hook behind the door, right next to her mothers, far more expensive terry cloth bathrobe. She smiled, thinking. "Well I guess you certainly won't have any use for that anymore now will you mother?" Her own blue robe was faded, thread-bare, and she determined to toss it out in the trash very first thing in the morning. She tested the temperature of the water again, "Just right," she mused. She had not stoppered the water, filling the bath, just waiting long enough for it to warm up the cold porcelain before stepping in, laying down. Her mother had had the bathroom remolded a few years back, the tub large enough to easily fit two, if not three people within. It even had a surrounding shelf, or sitting area that her mother would often use when shaving her legs. But the one nice feature, that she herself now wondered about, was the hand-held pulsating shower massage. She had once used it, though discovering quite by accident as she fiddled with it, the various force of the spray as she rinsed off her body. One of which felt oddly pleasurable as she held it between her legs, once again rinsing the soap off. It had felt good, better than good, and she'd have explored it further had her mother not suddenly come barging in on her. Even as she sat there, turning the dial once again, finding that same familiar pulsating spray she'd once discovered, she recalled that horrible moment.

"Just what the hell are you doing? You filthy, filthy girl!" Her mother had screamed at her. Carla had immediately taken the water massager out of her hand, going so far as to actually strike her with it, leaving a bruise on her shoulder for the effort. She had chased her dripping wet from the bathroom into her bedroom, where she continued to berate, chastise and scream at her for being a dirty, filthy whore-slut who she'd found masturbating, abusing herself.

Oh yes, Becky remembered the moment well, the image of that engrained in her memory forever as she smiled to herself, placing the shower massage between her legs, one hand already reaching up to begin teasing and rolling around one of her big, thick hard nipples. "Wish you could see me now mother," she thought. "You fucking bitch," she laughed outwardly, already beginning to enjoy the feel and sensation that she was bringing to herself. All worry, all fear of being caught, found out ... a thing of the past as she gradually gave herself over to the delicious sensations that were beginning to occur.

William stood quietly in the dark on his side of the wall. Not even daring to venture a peek, listening to the sound of the water running, and then the squeak of flesh against porcelain as Becky moved about inside the tub. Even then he remained unmoving until he was sure and confident that she was indeed sitting down inside it. Situated as it was, he knew she would have her back towards him, safe enough for a quick glance, though why he even considered doing so was beyond reasoning. A curiosity perhaps that held no purpose, no justification for doing, though he was for the time being, still trapped. William took a step, barely inching his head around the door-frame peering in. He indeed found relief to see nothing more than the back of his daughter's head, and bare shoulders, though catching a reflection glancing over and up. He ducked back, fearful, his heart once again racing. He fought to control his breath, and then chanced another look, but this time his attention directed and focused towards the mirror in the room. It was angled perfectly. From where he stood, he could see down into the tub where Becky sat. She on the other hand, sitting as low as she was, unable to see or look into the mirror, though with no reason to do so anyway. The adjacent room where William stood, dark ... vacant.

William knew then what she was doing. The pulsating shower massage pressed up against her pussy. His daughters legs comfortably spread in the over-sized tub, one actually propped up, resting on the small sitting shelf. One hand pulling on one of her very large thick nipples. William had never seen his daughter nude before, at least not since she was around ten or eleven, and only then quite by accident, as Carla had ensured that Becky never ran around the house without wearing appropriate attire, especially in front of her father. He had never really tried to picture what she looked like either, those thoughts simply not a part of his character. But now, here he stood, looking. The opportunity to do so too great to ignore. It was after all an innocent look wasn't it? Was he not initially just concerned for his daughter's welfare? Had circumstance not unfortunately placed him in this position, he wouldn't have found himself even being here. But now that he was ... he couldn't help but look, wondering curiously as to what she was doing, until he at last realized it. He stood spying on his daughter. Watching her openly masturbate. And though he felt guilty and torn in doing so, he became oddly aroused as well. He had been well on the way to his second pleasurable orgasm of the night when Becky had unexpectedly come home, interrupting those pleasures, which had simply retreated briefly, now coming back, seizing his senses with a vengeance. He didn't even realize that he had his hand on his own dick at first, looking down, seeing how hard it had become as he stood there stroking it once more. Looking up again, seeing the pleasure in his daughter's face, eyes closed ... mouth forming a small "O" as she moaned pleasurably, contentedly, moving the shower massage around now as though it were the caress of a lovers hand.

Becky couldn't believe how marvelous this was beginning to feel. Something so simple and yet so pleasurable as she lay there, completely and totally relaxed. That same thrill almost as when Bobby's hands and fingers had touched her, gently probing, caressing. She could almost imagine his doing that to her again, now. She was amazed at the way the water simultaneously pleasured her clit, and neither lips. Vibrating against them both, intensifying the sweet ecstasy that now coursed through her entire body. Well beyond anything she had ever felt or experienced before. There was a something there ... just off in the distance now, building towards an inevitable crescendo ... but what? She could have cared less, Becky had all the time in the world to enjoy this, whatever it was, whatever it was rapidly leading to, or becoming. In her mind, she was again stroking Bobby's hard cock, his fingers petting her pussy and tits, just as she was doing now. She even imagined the way his prick suddenly throbbed, the sensation of his "spunk" as he'd called it, suddenly spurting from the tip, oozing down over her working hand. The warmth of it, and then the sudden additional warmth of moisture between her own legs. Becky reached down, surprised to find herself doing so again, a silky, almost pearly-like slickness just inside the opening of her cunt, even with the water beating against it. She set the shower-massage aside for a moment. Becky slipped a finger, and then two, gingerly inside. She felt the additional lubrication as she extracted it, now sticky, slick between her fingers as she raised her hand, looking at it, and then smelling it. She next licked a portion of one, tasting her own secretions, enjoying the flavor, and then fully inserting both fingers into her mouth, sucking the rest of her creamy texture off. She probed for more, repeating the process all over again. And though she was enjoying it, discovering things about herself she was totally unaware of, that special tingling between her legs had started to diminish. Reapplying the shower massage against herself once more, it was only moments before those deliciously wicked sensations returned. And this time, they came rushing back at her with a vengeance!

All thoughts of what he himself was actually doing had long ago evaporated. There'd be time enough for recriminations and remorse later. At the moment however, his need and desire to experience this wave of ecstasy, superseded all rationale. Especially as he heard his daughter cry out suddenly, inexplicably, even going so far as to thrash about there in the tub. She was almost delirious with joy, even laughing out loud for a good long while afterwards. Her words shocking as he heard them coming from her very own mouth. "Oh fuck ... fuck, fuck!" She laughed over and over again. "Holy fucking shit!"