27

An hour later, my father came to me. I was surprised to see him, but I didn't let it show. I was lying on my back, my head on my pillow. The only light in my room was the lamp on the table next to my bed, but it was dim. Without a word, he walked right up next to the bed and then sat down beside me.

I decided to let him be the first to speak. After our mildly heated discussion in the living room, and my hour of tears, I didn't have the energy to start a conversation. It was almost five minutes before he finally said something.

"I'm sorry, Gracie," his voice sounded strained.

"Sorry for what?" I asked.

He stared at me, his eyes seeming to glow in the dimly lit room. Without looking away, he said hoarsely, "That I can't give you what you want."

Looking for any crack in his façade, I slowly nodded. Then I whispered, "It's ok." It wasn't, really. But I wanted him to feel comfortable. I would deal with whatever decision he ultimately made. To me, he was still trying to make up his mind. Or he wouldn't keep letting himself get physical with me at all. Tugging the bedspread until it caught where he was sitting on it, he lifted his butt and then climbed under the covers with me. This time he laid right next to me, both of us on our backs.

Our usual bout of silence ensued for the next ten minutes. Until I finally gathered enough strength to roll myself toward him. I put my hand on his stomach and he flinched, looking over at me. We stared at each other for a minute and then, very deliberately, I lifted my hand and placed it right on his crotch. I felt heat radiating from his penis. Giving it the slightest of squeezes, it was as I suspected. My father was hard.

"You're already hard," I said.

"I know," he answered.

He didn't push my hand away so I held it there, enjoying the heat that was rising from his erection through his pajama pants. Our eyes were still locked on each other. Whispering, I asked, "If we're not supposed to feel this way about each other, then why are you hard?"

He shifted slightly and then whispered back, "I can't help it."

I held his eyes and he never looked away. A minute ticked by and then slowly, I started moving my hand. His nostrils flared as he exhaled sharply. I ran my fingers along the length of his shaft, watching his face the entire time. Then I said softly, "Well, if you can't help that, then I can't help wanting to do this."

I started stroking him through the fabric of his pajamas. He grunted softly but didn't tell me to stop. Bending my fingers at the knuckles, I wrapped them around his penis, with my thumb on one side and my four fingers on the other. Then I worked my hand into a slow, gliding movement. Up and down his shaft I slid my fingers. Still holding onto his gaze, our eyes never broke contact.

"Does this feel good?" I asked as I continued to stroke him. He was breathing quicker and he had his lips parted.

"Yess," he whispered. I squeezed my fingers together just slightly and then he added, "Too good."

I never stopped what I was doing with my hand. Up and down I let my fingers caress the sides of his penis. Purposely moving very slow, I kept at it for almost fifteen minutes. My father and I stared at each other the entire time. Suddenly his facial features changed. That's when I decided to speed up my stroking. His mouth opened wider and he started breathing faster. That's it. I could feel his erection starting to swell. It was fascinating to me that I could feel how it changed.

"Are you close?" I whispered.

"Gracie," he said my name and I knew what it meant. He was about to ask me to stop.

"I don't want to stop this time," I said. My fingers gave his penis a little squeeze as I stroked my way back to the tip. When I started down again, I whispered, "Let me do this for you daddy. Please."

He didn't answer, so I kept stroking him. Unable to resist, I sped up my movement a little. I was still moving at a relatively slow pace, but I could tell the slight increase in speed was having an effect on him. He started breathing more frequently, taking tiny breaths and letting them out. I kept going, feeling the hot contours of his penis through the fabric as my fingers glided up and down its length. He shifted his body but didn't pull away from me.

Finally, I decided to give him one more option to back out. Just in case. I didn't want him to resent me. So I asked, "Do you want me to stop?"

My dad didn't answer. That made me excited. My stroking grew faster. My body felt warmer. It was hot between my legs. My arousal was growing at an exponential rate. Faster I stroked. His penis twitched between my fingers. I could hear his breathing getting heavier, louder. It was encouraging. Still staring directly into his eyes, I continued my pleasure-producing rub of his very hard shaft. Faster. He started shaking and I squeezed tighter.

My dad started moaning softly with each breath. I never stopped. I just continued manipulating his erection with my fingers until his body started tensing up.

"Mmm hmmm," I cooed, smiling as I continued to stare into his eyes.

His mouth opened wider and his eyes threatened to flutter shut. But he held on, continuing to look at me. I moved my hand faster still, stroking up and down, up and down. He was breathing short, loud breaths. The noises he made were an aphrodisiac to my ears. Pleasure pulsed between my legs but I ignored it. I just kept stroking him.

"Gracie!" he said my name in a sharp whisper just as his body bucked upward. His arm flailed out and then his hand grabbed hold of my shoulder in a death grip.

Still stroking, I watched his face contort and I knew it was about to happen. Up and down I slid my fingers, which felt extremely hot. His breathing got even shorter, louder. His body was tense beside me and he was shaking.

Then he finally let go.

"GAAUHNNNNNNNNNNNN MMMMMMM MMMMMMMM HMMMMMM OOOOHHHHHHHM MMMMMMMM FFFFFFFFFFFFMMMMMMMMM MMMMM OOOHNNNNN!!" his moans were loud and wild. I felt his penis throbbing between my fingers, like it was pulsing. The pulses felt timed with his moans. Every flinch of his penis brought another moan.

My father was having an orgasm.

It lasted well over three minutes, and I continued stroking him the entire time. His body sank back onto my bed, and then it was done. He had finally given in and closed his eyes. I stared at his face, watching as his mouth hung open and he gasped for air. Between my fingers, I felt his penis slowly shrinking. I kept running my hand up and down it anyway. He convulsed, shuddering. He swallowed gulps of air and probably saliva. His gasping gradually slowed until he was breathing somewhat normally again.