The Truth About Bethie – The First Part (Chapters

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The Truth About Bethie – The First Part (Chapters
9. Bethie s wish

We cuddled and pecked and necked for a good little while after that. Not worrying about pictures, just enjoying ourselves. I was by then completely in her spell, so comforted from my earlier anxiety about Lizvette, and guilt-free about Bethie. She was very much in command and very obviously enjoying her status as lady of the house and love of my life.

She was curious to see the pictures, and eager to secure them. At her request, we moved to the den. There, at my desk, she sat in my lap as I copied the photos and the video to our secured folder. We studied each shot to see which we liked best, which were passable, and which were unflattering, before locking it or deleting it.

We started with the bare ass shots. My God Bethie, you take my breath!

I should have taken my top off.

I love this, baby. I do.

We sized the locket shots for printing and cutting. She liked the second of the two. So romantic, don t you think, Dad?

I love your profile. I can see your lashes. So pretty.

Next was our kiss. The first viewing of that photo actually startled me. It was very dramatic to my eyes then, less so now, my salt and pepper head kissing her youthful face. Send me that one, Daddy. I emailed it to her, then deleted it from my email.

Next came the titty-squeezing sequence. Oh, Daddy, you look like a movie star! Ha ha!

The look on my face as I was watching my daughter lift her top, hoping she would expose her breasts, was one of dumbfounded amazement, and subdued joy. Bethie seemed to find it melodramatic, though she did not use that word. You look like that old silent movie guy. So cute!


Yeah, Randolph Valentino!


You do! So handsome, Daddy. I should have worn a thong. Do you like my butt there?

Baby yes I love you so much.

But do you like the picture? I will wear a thong next time.

She watched as I sent that photo, as I had the others, to my private email address, where I would download them to my phone. My cock was hard by now and she noticed it when she shifted her position. She looked at me and in her voice I heard loving concern as she asked, Do you need to go … lie down for a few minutes?

She was asking if I needed to masturbate. I could go to my room and cut the pictures into my locket now.

No baby, I m alright. Stay. This feels so good. She kissed me.

Sometimes I feel guilty. Just tell me when.

That concerned me. Guilty about what, darling?

I just don t want to be a tease. I mean I know you like it and you probably might think there will be more, that we ll go further but I can only really do this. I don t know how to say it.

Bethie you make me so happy. You are the best daughter a father could ever dream of.

Next came the photos she took herself, and the photo of her resting against me. If had doubt when we were on the sofa, I was certain now, seeing the photo, what while she took the picture, she was having an orgasm. In the image I saw my eyes watching her face, adoringly, as her eyes closed tightly and her lips parted.

Daddy. She spoke as if to tell me what she had been trying to say in the picture, but couldn t. I looked at her now, and saw she studied the image very critically.

Please tell me you won t feel guilty about any of this.

She turned to face me. No Daddy, I don t! Not about this. She looked again at the imabe. I mean about not going farther.

I didn t correct her and say further.

Baby we will always know our limits. Even your mother and I have our limits. You and I have them, too. We ll always know.

The remark about her mother brought a curious look to her face and I regretted saying it, betraying Lois in a way, but she did not ask me to explain.

I will always give you as much as I can, Daddy. Just tell me when you need a release, okay?

She was being very candid, telling me to let her know when I need to jack off. I decided to be as open.

Let s see how much of the video I can take before I have send you to your room.

My angel laughed and kissed me. I hope not much!

I locked the last of the still pictures, deleted them from the camera, then started the video. The buzz buzz bop bop bop of the music filled my den as my precious daughter s dance filled my screen. You move so beautifully, baby. So gracefully.

I know you hate jerky dancing. And twerking!

I would watch you do it.

You like tease moves. Glamour.

And you re a natural.

I watched her lips make kissing motions on the screen as I felt Bethie kiss my face.

As we watched her begin to lift her top, only to stop before her tits popped out, she said, I wish I had lifted it!

You would be sitting on a wet lap right now if you had, baby.

Bethie looked at me and covered her mouth to conceal her laugh. I m sorry Daddy. Maybe next time I will have the courage.

I paused the video right before it ended, as she pressed her breasts together under her top and leaned forward. My beautiful girl.

I kissed her and stroked her hair. I think it s time, angel. I locked the video away and said, I m going to go lie down for a few minutes, then I want to snuggle up on the sofa and watch a movie with you. Date?

Oh Daddy yes. Date.

We stood together and she took my hand. Is your phone by your bed? She knew I had a secret folder there, too.

Yes, baby.

We passed by her bedroom door on the way to mine. I love you, Daddy. Rest as long as you need. I will see you downstairs.

. . . . . .

10. <3 Settling in for a masturbation session to photos of your daughter while your daughter waits in the next room knowing what you are doing is a thrill most fathers never know, but I was about to experience it. I thought of that as I took off my T shirt, stepper out of my pajama pants and laid on my bed, still unmade from that morning. I pulled part of the sheet over my cock to rub against, and wished I d had her shorts to stroke into instead. How could I have asked her for them? I supposed in the frame of mind she was in, she would have given them to me, but exposing the secret of my masturbatory technique didn t seem like a romantic thing to do, not matter how subtly I might have done it. I laid back and closed my eyes, thinking of her face, her voice. Her images were still fresh and vivid in my mind and I wanted only to savor the feeling she had given me. Forbidden love was not new to me. It was something that had been part of my life since c***dhood. It was not even new to Bethie and I. Since our first kiss, after our first Daddy-daughter date when she started middle school, I knew that she, too, felt that certain excitement, the darkly erotic rush that only taboo love brings. Indulging in a sexual attraction to one for whom such feelings are not to be indulged charges the libido in ways other attractions can t, and when the attraction is mutual, it cannot long be resisted. I knew this and had known it for years. For Bethie it was still relatively new. Like many girls, her first love had been her father, but unlike other fathers, I had encouraged it. Thus encouraged, she had not grown out of it, and must now, as she became a woman, make sense of it, find a suitable outlet for it. Posing for the pictures and video she gave me that day was her solution. I felt a wet spot cooling on the fabric over my dick as I stroked it, and remembering her laying on the sofa, I replayed the sound of her voice saying to me, Just take them off me. I replayed the thrill of exposing her bare bottom for the first time since I bathed her not all that many years ago, though it was more than half a lifetime ago for her, when sex had nothing to do with it. Now, it was entirely sexual and irresistibly erotic. Most importantly, it was Bethie s idea. I loved it, and thinking that to myself I heard my daughter tell me again, as if she were beside me watching me stroke, I thought you might. I held my fingers to my nose to breathe in the scent that touching her skin left on them. I visualized grasping the elastic band of her shorts as it hugged her thighs below her bare ass, pulling them down her legs. I remembered the sight of her slender waist, her lumbar dimples, and the lines of her hourglass body that flowed in youthful feminine symmetry. I lingered at the memory of seeing her ass bare, the light skin forever untanned, rounding upward, arching and flowing downward so beautifully into her thighs. I remembered the little goosebumps and the light catching the peach fuzz that hugged the outer curves. I remembered kissing it, so pleased in the knowledge that my Bethie now knew something else her friends would never know, the touch of her father s loving lips on her ass. I had to stop stroking to avoid cumming. I wanted to hold her again, to have her body under my hands again, but I also wanted to savor the feeling of stroking my cock for her while she waited, to enjoy my first orgasm over a semi-nude photo of her, the first orgasm she asked me to have for her. I was hfilled with erotic love, and so eager to express it to her. I picked up my phone to send her a text, to say to her I love you. Waiting for me was a text from her. Do you know what you are daddy? She attached the image of our kiss. I replied: a randy valentino? Bethie: lol. No!!! Well that too but I meant something else. Me: tell me baby I took my cock in my hand and looked at my daughter and me, kissing like lovers, and began to coax myself to orgasm. I felt the surge of blood rush to my head, as my heart quickened, waiting for her reply. Bethie: You re the best daddy a girl could ever dream of <3 I smiled not just at the words but at the symbol of the greater-than sign and a 3. I remembered telling her once I thought it looked like boobies. She thought that was hilarious and told me it was just my dirty mind. I always assumed she knew I would think of boobs whenever she sent it to me. My orgasm was only a stroke away as I began my reply. Before I could, she sent another image. I will never forget that moment, seeing that image for the first time, and how my heart filled with joy at the gift my baby had made for me. I will never forget how the sight of it brought a spring of hot jizz from my cock that shot all the way up my chest, almost onto my face. The picture of my beautiful Bethie, taken as she stood before her mirror, with one hand on her head in her pinup pose while her other hand held her phone. Her body was turned just slightly to the side giving me an almost a straight-on view as she posed naked from the waist up, her bare breasts, sitting up so high, so firm, so young, and, with her reddish-brown nipples stiff and centered so perfectly on the creamy white tips of her breasts, bared for my eyes only. I had never before felt so close to her, so permanently bonded with her, as I did in that moment. I can t begin to explain why, but I also remembered feeling that I was never more her father, and she my daughter, as when I had that forst orgasm to my topless daughter. I remembered her telling me in the den, as we looked at the pictures where she teased me by pulling her top up, but not all the way, I should have taken my top off. How I had wished it too, but dared not ask, dared not even acknowledge the comment for concern that it might influence her decision, which had to be hers. Now, I would never have to ask, and would no longer have to wait. I stared at her quarter-sized nipples and remembered their stiff, rubbery suppleness against my palms. Hot cum cooled on my chest as my heart beat like a drum. Semen oozed still from my softening cock and rolled between my nuts and thigh as I tapped my message, unable to say it enough. my lizbeth
i love you so
i love you
I love you
I love you

. . . . .

11. Drift away

I rubbed my cum into my skin, not wanting to wipe it with tissue and flush it, as usual. I wanted it on my hands, even if dried, when I next touched my daughter. It was hers.

I dressed in the same PJ pants and T, anxious to get to her, but now not as much for sexual expression as for love. How I treasured her that night, and how I needed her to know it. I could not possibly confide to her the worries and fears she had chased away, but I could express to her the love I felt for her, and the joy this strengthening of our bond gave me. She was mine, my treasure, my prize, my anchor in a new uncertain time in my life, and nothing could ever take her from me. Our love was now deeper than ever and it would go deeper still, I knew, and forever my Bethie would keep our secret.

Her bedroom door was open but the light was off and she was not in it. I smiled seeing her bed covers pulled down, with a stack of pillows waiting at the headboard, laundry-fresh. I found her downstairs, where she had arranged in front of the sofa a little table that held a glass of red wine beside a tall glass of tea, a setting Lois used to create for me when we would snuggle together to watch a movie.

Bethie appeared from the dining room carrying a candle and a lighter. Did you have a relaxing nap, Daddy? She placed the candle on the table and lit it.

Oh, darling, I did. I feel so good. Thank you.

I looked at her, at the room, and heard the music playing. She had tuned to an audio channel called the Great American Songbook that she knew I liked, and I heard Doris Day singing, They say that falling in love is wonderful.

Her shorts were hanging low on her hips and loose. She had brushed her hair and left it loose and flowing. Beneath her top the outlines of her nipples could be seen, ever so faintly, but my eyes saw them. She looked, I thought, as she would if we had just made love. And in our way, hadn t we? I wanted to kiss her hand in expectation that I would find her scent on her fingers.

Baby. You have no idea how I ve needed this.

She put her arms around me tightly and whispered, Yes, I do.

As she released her embrace I let my hands slide down her arms till our fingers touched. I lifted her hands to my lips and kissed them. Yes, my Bethie s scent was there, rich and gingery sweet.

What shall we watch, my handsome Daddy? she asked.

I told her it didn t matter, I just want you next to me, baby. You choose. She picked out a foreign film she knew I liked, but one she had not seen. Is this really that good, or do you just like to look at the actress naked?

Both. But no girl can ever compete with you.

Sweet-talking Daddy.

We cuddled and snuggled and gradually our bodies found the position we liked, and we settled in. Messages popped up on her phone now and then, the only distraction, from friends wanting to chit chat, but she dispatched them with quick replies, before silencing the notifications after the third or fourth, and put her head back on my shoulder, where it would stay. She became interested in the movie, and remained ever-receptive to my caresses and pats, responding with tighter embraces and intermittent kisses of her own. She rocked and swayed to the music, and laughed at the lovesick, lust-stricken boy on the screen. After a particularly tender scene, she turned my face to hers and said, I love you, Daddy. She kissed my lips, softly and firmly, then pressed her forehead against my neck and laid her bent knee over my cock. She is, I thought, every bit the romantic she says I am, every inch her father s daughter.

I held her in my arms, letting my hands explore her, enjoying the luxury of her smooth curves, savoring her softness, her warmth. Only now, I did so without the need for sexual release. I touched simply to express with my hands what I had already expressed with my words. Bethie was mine to love, to care for, to adore but there was still a boundary to respect. She needed, and deserved, a father, and I never wanted her to be anything for me but my loving daughter.

As I held her and caressed her, enjoying her reactions to the movie, thoughts of Lizvette returned. Lizvette, in our night together, had become mine in a way Bethie couldn t. Or shouldn t. A substitute of sorts, as I imagined Bethie would say, if she knew. But she would never know. I would protect her from it, and simply love her, simply be the Daddy she needed me to be, and allow her to be the daughter she wanted to be. There would be time later to think of Lizvette, I remembered.

I reached again beneath Bethie s top, cupped her breasts softly, then tucked my hand between her body and her arm. I rested my had on top of hers and let the music of the film lift me as if on a cloud and, carrying my daughter securely in my arms, closed my eyes and drifted away.

. . . . .

12. The vision

We held each other silently as the DVD menu music played and repeated. I didn t want to speak, or move. I just wanted to hold her. At last, Bethie sat up and looked at me. Do you want to listen to some music? Or go upstairs now? She yawned. Her hair was flattened on the left side where she had been resting on my chest. I brushed it from her face with my free hand. It would be an early bedtime, but she had had a long day, and I wanted to hold her while we slept. It had been so long.

I think you re ready for bed, angel.

I think we both are. She stood and held her hand out to mine. My sheets are fresh. I took her hand and rose. She hugged me, pressed her face to my chest and sighed, Daddy. I pressed my lips to the top of her head, and held her close. She lifted her face upward, and closed her eyes, inviting a kiss. Our lips touched softly. She opened her eyes and said, I ll set the clock for early, and make your omelette.

Not too early, baby. I want every minute I can have with you.

I want every minute with you, Daddy.

We turned out the downstairs lights and I led her up to her room. There in the darkness, she lifted my T shirt up and off, then removed hers. I lay on my back and pulled her body onto mine. With my arms wrapped around her, and her breasts softly pressing against me, we slept the whole night through. I heard snippets of her sleep-talking and giggling, happy and serene, dreaming dreams I knew not what of, while I floated in and out of my own dreams, of Bethie s naked body dancing and posing, dressing and undressing in front of me, of kissing my lips and laying down for me, and of opening for me like a rose. And still there were visions of Lizvette, mysterious peeks and glimpses of the future she would bring, intermingled with images of Bethie at different ages, images so vivid but so disjointed I could not always tell who was who.

I suspected then, and time has proven, the visions I saw were not mere hopes, nor random ideas that come to a wandering, semi-conscious mind. In those late hours, that quiet, peaceful night, as I held the girl I treasured, and envisioned the girl who somehow promised a future, I foresaw all the unspeakable beauty I was to know, the very depths of secret love, and the inevitable, exquisite pain that would be mine to bear alone, even with my devoted Bethie at my side. And I saw, I now know, in those confused and random dreams, the merciful redemption that awaited us all.

. . . . . . . . . .

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