“Am I glad to see you, babe!”
Stirring a pot on the stove, Helen, my wife, looked like she was taking care of my hunger. I strode up behind her. Caressing her waist, I pushed lumpy denim against her ass.
“Gerry, get off me, you smell like a bum!”
I squeezed tits through her shirt and kissed her neck. She was having none of it as she slipped away.
“I’m glad you’re finally home,” she said dryly. “You need to speak with that daughter of yours.”
“What, again? What is it this time?”
“Oh, you know, the usual. Like trying to go out dressed like a slut.”
“Helen, she’s 18. I don’t think we can force her to dress like a nun anymore.”
“So typical of you, Gerry. Siding with her.”
Fuck. This is all I need. Can’t a guy get a little gratitude around here.
“Fine. I’ll go have a word. Can you at least dish up my dinner?”
***
“Some welcome this is,” I muttered as I passed through the dining room and into the hallway.
“Hey dad! Wanna play some video games?”
“Jack! My boy,” I said, giving him a hearty hug. “Christ, you’ve grown!”
Our embrace turned into the usual competitive wrestle. He drove me back a few steps before I had him up against the wall. Our tussle almost caused some family photos to became collateral damage. Hmm, maybe she did dress a bit scantily. The boy was getting stronger, but victory was still mine.
“Damn, have you been lifting? You nearly had your old man there.”
“Yeah, we’ve been using your bench press a little. Becca seems really into it too. Don’t worry. We cleaned it and everything. So, games?”
“Well, it’s good to have a gym buddy.” I said, remembering her meagre workout gear a little too easily.
“Honestly son, I’m a little buzzed after all the driving. Tomorrow, I promise.” I kept my voice low. “Speaking of the devil, is your sister behaving herself?”
“Pfft! Yeah, sure,” Jack said, rolling his eyes.
I waited for Jack to turn the corner. Her door was slightly ajar. I knocked while pushing it open.
“Becca, what did I tell you abo- Shit! Sorry.”
She quickly snapped down the black tank top that was halfway rolled up her body. I turned away from her and tried to erase the last three seconds.
“Daddy!” She yelled as she charged me.
She jumped into my arms and wrapped her pyjama clad legs around me. I had no choice but to keep my hands on her waist. Her soft lips found a way through my thick, greying beard. I swear the little bitch was doing everything she could to grind my evading crotch lump. I couldn’t but glance creamy cleavage as I set her down. How could I stay mad at such a pretty smile?
“How was work, dad?”
“It was fine. Probably a lot better than here. Becca, why do you torment your mother like that?”
“Fuck that bitch. You of all people know she’s an uptight asshole.”
“What the hell were you wearing that annoyed her so much anyway. Apart from that classy nose ring?”
She play-bit my finger as I squeezed her oily nose. Pulling at her top, she exposed more cleavage as she spoke.
“Just this…and a skirt. No big deal.”
“One below the knee I’m sure,” I said sarcastically. “Honey, just go easy on your mom. Stop antagonising her.”
I really thought that talking to my daughter would have eased my bone. No chance while in that top. Not even wearing a bra. I had to get to the bathroom quick and deal with this myself. It was only right across the hallway. I turned and put my hand on the door handle.
“Imagine what she’d do if she saw this,” Becca said.
Craning my neck, I looked back towards her.
“Dad, promise you won’t freak out?”
“Becca?” I said warily, releasing the handle.
“It’s ok. You’ve got loads of them.”
She turned her back to me. Clutching the bottom of her top, she slowly rolled it up. The black, butterfly tattoo on her lower back only looked a few weeks old. I found myself checking behind me. Not really sure why. It’s not like I was doing anything wrong.
“So, what do you think?”
“Becca, why?” I whispered as I came up behind her. I cautiously placed my hand on her inky skin. Grimy fingers traced the dark pattern. I probably should have washed them first.
“Good ink work at least.”
A late bloomer, it was as if she’d developed a woman’s body overnight – her ass filling out the pink pyjama bottoms nicely. There was only a sliver daylight between bum and belt buckle. I spoke to disrupt my audible, heavy breathing.
“I’m a bad influence on you,” I said, looking over my shoulder again.
My fingers wandered over bare hips. I found myself skimming the edges of her grey underwear.
“Is your mother feeding you properly?”
Becca shrugged her shoulders.
“I don’t want to get fat. Men don’t like fat women.”
“And you wouldn’t be able to fit in that little bed of yours.”
Her top trapped my hand against her body. Long, black hair whipped me as she spun around. I eventually pulled free having felt far too much of her.
“Let me see it,” she said.
I peered down at big, mischievous eyes. Her nose ring glimmered. Backing up slightly, I cracked a smile. She always asked to see it; a gift for her sweet sixteenth. I rolled up my sleeve and flexed my bicep. The word ‘Becca’ stretched across my skin in bold, black ink. She gave me a faux round of applause before squeezing me. Her slim fingers made my arm seem massive. I couldn’t deny the comfort of her touch.
“I never get tired of it. But what about the other one.” She leaned close as if sharing a secret. “The bad one.”
I sighed, not quite sure what was happening. I didn’t mind showing off my tats in general, all except for this particular one. People could be so judgmental. I batted her impatient fingers away from my shirt and twisted sideways. I lifted the shirt up to display the knotted muscles of my side. Hey, I’d worked hard in the gym. At least someone could see. Someone I trusted. Her fingers tickled me as they roamed over the sprawling Iron cross.
“Everyone thinks it’s a Nazi symbol. It’s not. It’s way more than that. Much older. It’s to honour our ancestors, Becca.”
“I think it’s fucking cool.”
I kept my eyes shut as fingers wandered. I opened them again to glimpse things a father shouldn’t. The black choker fastened around her neck looked tight. I almost got lost in the bumps of her cleavage – her nipples now hard.
“Ich liebe deinen Schwanz.”
“Schwanz isn’t German for tattoo, Becca.”
“Hmm. Do you want to see my other ones?” she whispered; her eyes glued to my obvious bulge.
I followed her fingers as her top started to rise. I gazed as the cotton went past her pierced bellybutton. I gazed as it cleared more skin. Her body was warm against my palm. I should have used that fucking gloryhole.
“More ink. Such a naughty girl.”
“So naughty.”
I breathed hard on her face on seeing the bottom of a breast. This wasn’t right. Too many people around. Denying all urges, I stopped short of her tit and bolted out of the room.