Bareback
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You haven't seen beauty until you've seen my daughter riding along Country Route 18 in July. We own the land on the whole stretch of road between Wendell's farm and the Amish community up north. All you ever see on that road are haywagons and buggies. And my daughter, Katherine. I swear the only reason anyone else rides that road instead of the wider route to the south is for the hope of seeing her go by on that stallion of hers. She paid for it herself, you know. Takes care of it real good.
In March, she rides it still wearing her leather parka I got her. In April, she trots over the puddles in the road like they weren't there. But in July, everything is the blue of the sky, the green of the crops, and the red of the barn. Then there's her. Bare brown shoulders. Cropped short blond hair. Tight jeans. Bareback.
She's a luminous angel before a sidescrolling reel.
She says she prefers riding topless. In the dead heat of July when the motion of the horse under her is the best way to catch a breeze; she wants to feel it on her chest. She says it's like swimming in summertime. I was angry the first time I caught her doing it. I came up behind her in my truck. This tanned furrow on top of that horse. I recognized the beast before I recognized her. But I caught her face in my rearview; I saw her pink nipples turned up at the treetops. I motored home to my wife. She wrestled her top back over her chest and kicked into a gallop after me.
We had it out in the kitchen. I know her mother would have wanted me to shout her down. But when I asked Katherine why she did it, she said it made her happy. I guess that was enough. That horse has been the only thing she loved since her mother passed. 'You got married again,' she said to me once, 'I got Light.' I can't get in the way of that.
I asked her why she couldn't ride one of the back trails, somewhere out of sight. She said there wasn't enough sun back there. The point was feeling the light on her chest. If I were a good father, I would have at least insisted. Now, I'm glad that I didn't.
She never brings boys around. I've never even heard about a college boyfriend. Even now that she's graduated, I've never known her to date. Sometimes, that worries me but mostly I'm just grateful to have her home again.
I married Agatha two falls after Katherine's mother died. I expected my daughter to have a hard time with it while she was away, but she understood. She understands me better than anyone, I think. If Katherine noticed that Agatha is a spitting image of herself, she never said anything. Agatha is twenty years my junior. Practically my daughter's age. They say she married me for my money, but all I got is land. She wears her blond hair short around her ears like my Kat, has the same round face. She even wears the same clothes. They share sometimes. I caught them last Christmas in Katherine's room, both in their underwear, swapping garments like twins. I had a hard-on.
That was the first time I noticed it, but I think it's always been there. I'm in love with my daughter.
I wish my wife could cover it up. But she is a pale reflection of my daughter. Her skin is milk-white. Her nipples are brown and her blond hair is fake. To the rest of the world, maybe, she is my daughter's twin, but only my Katherine has the shining beauty that I'm in love with. It's the outlandish confidence that takes her out riding in her underthings, that sheds her top in the summer. My wife is stiff, practiced. Never wild. Not like my Katherine.
Last Fourth of July, before her senior year at University, we cooked out on the dock. There's a little lake in the middle of our fields. Most of it manmade, but stocked from time to time with trout. I set up the grill on the edge of the lake. Katherine came down from the house while I was getting the fire lit. She unbuttoned her shirt and hung it from the grill for me to watch for fear of it blowing away. She hadn't been wearing a bra. When she dropped her jeans, I knew she hadn't been wearing underwear either.
Her body unfurled off the dock like a great swan in flight. I caught sight of all of her from the back. Her bottom rose from her legs in a perfect hump, hiding the flower beneath it. Then she was in the water, her chest breaching the black surface in a backstroke, her body a ghost beneath the water. Maybe that was the first time I noticed that I was in love with my daughter. I had a hard-on then, too.
I'm pretty much retired from the hard farm work now. I hire local boys to take care of most of the lifting. Dragging bales of hay in for Light, loading the truck for export. That sort of thing. One of them, Joshua, has taken well to the ploughing so now I hardly even do that.
That leaves me with free time in July that I've never had before. With the wife still at work, there's nothing for me to do. I tried reading, but I can't sit still for that long. Never had a television in this house and I don't plan to.
When I started driving Route 18, I'd forgotten about Katherine and her habits. I just wanted to see the property, feel the air on my face. It was just a pastime. Then, I saw her again. She was facing me then, riding Light through the midafternoon. It was a late spring this year and the pollen was still in the air. Katherine came dusting through it with her breasts shining in the summer sunbeams, glistening with the sweat of riding.
Then, seeing her ride became the intent of my driving. It became my ritual. When my wife left and I heard the latch lifting on the barn, the soft trill of Katherine's voice chirping after her beloved Light, I'd put down my book, my carpentry, any distraction that had so far engaged me. Listening to her go off down the road would start my passion growing inside of me. I would force it down even as my erection started up. Then I would get my keys and go on after her.
She waved to me every time, like everything was normal, like every father drives past his topless daughter just for the glory of seeing her bare skin go by. I don't think she ever thought my driving was out of the ordinary. Maybe she thought I was looking out for her.
At first, that's all it was. Watching her. Then, I began to think about it. Think about her. And me. Together. That first time, when I passed her, I drove all the way home to take off my pants. I came into a sock in my bedroom. I haven't done that since before I met her mother.
When Agatha got home, I dragged her to the bedroom and fucked her with her face in the pillows, mouthing my daughter's name the entire time. She loved it. It was sex like we haven't had since we were married. But after that, I lost all interest in her again. It was my Katherine or nothing.
The next time, I masturbated in the living room. Katherine's bedroom was just down the hall. I could see the light shining through from her window. I could hold the image of her breasts in my mind and imagine her in that room, naked, breathing easy and asleep.
After that, I went into her room. I stretched myself naked on her bed and felt the soft wool of the blankets her mother knitted for her. I came into a pair of her panties balled into my fist. Before this happened, I could convince myself that it wasn't happening. I could pretend that I was never acting on my attraction. Then, I began stealing her underwear.
I started parking the car along the road ahead of her to masturbate--far enough ahead that I knew she wouldn't catch me, but close enough to know that she could if she broke into a long gallop.
This morning, I caught her with him. Joshua. A god damned field hand. A nobody. My hire.
They were at the barn behind the pond. Light was hitched to the maple tree. Her shirt dangled from his saddle. I was aroused at the sight of it. I hadn't even come out looking for her. It was too early for her rides, and I was restless.
He had her against the wall. Her pants and panties were in a heap behind them. I could see all of her. Her ass was arched up against his pelvis, sloping along the curve of her back. His hand was practically in her mouth, stifling her. Her whole body was shaking. I could hear her whimpering past his fist. As a father, I wanted to stop them. But I didn't want to stop watching. He was doing to my little girl what I wanted to do to her so badly.
I knew this was probably the closest I will ever get.
I could hear Katherine moaning as he took her by the throat and arched her back against him. ITo continue reading this story you must be a member. Join for FREE here.
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