Daddys baby girl
- 2 years ago
- 19
- 0
Daddy’s Baby Girl free porn video
The cliché that’s this little story. You don’t just marry the girl, you marry the family too. As I was dragging myself awake two days ago. This story awoke before me. I wrote it in part of that day. Edit and post took part of the next day. So I hope it’s not too rough. I almost put this into the romance category. But it’s non-erotic, but there’s still a romance, just from a very different point of view. Again there’s no sex in this little tale. It’s all narrative from one person’s point of view, Daddy’s. So consider yourself forewarned. It’s shorter, about 4.5k word count.
Marrying the girl and the family too. Can carry into more, friends, schools, community, reputations, community morals, and more, it’s all connected.
And now for my disclaimers which I have mostly plagiarized but didn’t realize I hadn’t copied the authors’ name. My apologies and thanks for these profound words to whoever you are.
Yes, I never met a comma, or ellipse… I didn’t like.
Yes, it jumps around too much.
Yes, it’s in the wrong category.
Yes, it’s too long.
Yes, it’s too short.
Yes, this is stupid shit.
Eyss, I need an editor, are you volunteering?
And, yes, I suck.
And you have yourself a warm and fuzzy day.
If you want a perfect story, go write one.
ENJOY!
Please vote and comment.
***************
I watched her as I did most weekends. As she came downstairs with her overnight bag, going to be with him. It broke my heart like it always did. I don’t know why it did, well yeah I do, but we had certainly talked through it enough. Plus it’s not like it’s anything new. She’s tried to reassure me. But in my mind, I won’t understand until I know. What breaks me up and worries me so much, is that’s all I could call him. HIM, I didn’t know who he is, or anything about him. Hell I have to trust her that it was even a him, not a her.
‘His’ situation is such that they can’t be seen together. She said, that was mostly her choice, she wanted to protect him. She said, he didn’t want her to start her life, known as that girl with…felt it would demean her. I mean neither of those reasons led to anything good, at least in my mind. Who couldn’t be seen with her, she’s just a young college student. My baby girl.
Yeah I know she’s not a baby girl anymore. Yes I know she’s an adult, old enough to be on her own. Old enough to vote, join the Army, get married without my permission. Yes I know I have to let go, let her be her own person. Make her own mistakes, that one I don’t agree with. I’ll always try and protect her. Come on, she’s my baby girl. I’m her dad, she’ll always be my baby girl. If I live to be eighty, she’ll still be my baby girl.
It’s been her and I against the world. She’s all I have.
Her mother died when Ce was twelve. It was hard on us for quite a few years there. First my father died at work. Just fell over from a major heart attack. Barely fifty, went into work, never came home. Less than a year later Cecilla, my wife. Went to get something from the store, she needed for supper. She never came home. She was hit and killed by a drunk driver. The only thing we can take from it, is she never suffered.
She probably never even knew she was in a wreck. Her car was t-boned directly on the driver’s door. The drunk driver was doing about fifty mph, and ran the stop light. Killed the son of a bitch too. After that it seemed like my mom just gave up. Ce and I tried to get her to come live with us. But she wouldn’t leave their home. Dad’s home she called it. Developed one health problem after another, just passed in her sleep one night. Barely six months later.
Cecilla was an orphan, her parents were killed in an automobile accident when she was very young. Cecilla had problems with Ce’s birth. It was complicated, but the short of it is, she had to have her tube’s tied. So Ce’s an only child. So it’s just been Ce and I. I know I’m daddy and very biased.
Ce’s special, very special.
At twelve she took over being the lady of the house. I’m a blue collar worker, my dad was blue collar. His father was blue collar, working with our hands has been our life. But we’re a proud people, we take care of ourselves, of our own. We do it through hard work. No Galligan has ever been afraid of hard work.
We’ve never been well off, money’s always been tight. Having a nanny or a house keeper was never an option. But it never bothered Ce, she just started doing most of the cooking and cleaning. She went to school in the mornings, after I left for work. She was home before me. So it was school work and starting supper. We both took care of the chores of housekeeping. I’d wash, she’d dry. I ran the washer and dryer, she folded clothes. We’ve always been a team. But that’s part of the problem. She won’t leave me unless I force a choice. Force her to tell me who he is. Then she might… go to him.
Christina Ann Galligan is my daughter’s given name. Shortly after her mom was killed, she told everyone to call her ‘Ce’. We argued over that, I thought it wasn’t healthy. Thought she was trying to become her mom. Taking over cooking and cleaning, calling herself ‘Ce’, for Cecilla.
When she explained it to me, I understood it, kind of. She wanted to never forget her mom. Always wanted to be reminded of her mother. By calling herself Ce, anytime someone spoke to her, or called her Ce. It would cause her to remember her mom. Then the little shit quit answering to anything but Ce.
I tried everything I could do, to keep her from growing up too fast. Tried to push her to do after school activities, to go play with other kids. Spend time with girl friends doing girly things. But with her, it was after her school work was done, supper finished. What chores needed done. Then if there was time left, she’d have friends over, or go play. She never did after school things. No cheerleader, no sports, it was home first.
She’s a kind and gentle soul. You would have thought with all the death and hard work in our family. She might have become jaded, hard, and maybe even bitter. She didn’t, she’s never lacked for friends. Always happy, easy to get along with. She also never joined one group of kids, the cool kids or the nerds. She seemed to float between all groups, with friends in each. My Ce would be that girl who stopped her car, stopped traffic. Ran out into the middle of the road to pick up that turtle, carry it over to the side of the road. Teachers loved her, parents loved her. I don’t know how many of her fellow students she tutored.
Smart, I don’t know where she got it from, but she is damn near genius level. She never had a problem in school, straight A’s every time. Unfortunately she wasn’t first in her class, didn’t graduate summa cum laude. There was a boy who was genius, above genius. And he attracted a lot of attention. Ce was salutatorian! Ce still got a partial scholarship. When Cecilla and I first seen how smart Ce was, we decided she was going to College. No one in our families ever had, but Christina was going to go. We put every dime we could into a college fund. Even after Cecilla was killed, I kept it up. After Ce turned sixteen, she always got summer jobs. Most of that went into the fund too.
Ce’s never been a fashion girl, never needed fine clothes. Part of the reason is that she flat doesn’t need them. I was batting way above my head when I married Cecilla. She was a very beautiful woman. As much as I love my wife, she couldn’t hold a candle to Ce. Ce got all her mother’s looks, body type, hair color, and then a lot more. A lot more of something that makes her shine. That special something that attracts people, and makes them smile. I know I’m daddy and bias, but I honestly think Ce could walk a Paris runway in a gunny sack. Ce will never walk a runway, one reason is she’s too tiny. Ce’s just over five foot, and the other reason is she doesn’t want to. An agen
cy wanted a photo shoot when she was a sophomore. The photographer and some others had some cocaine. Ce got up, left and came home. Never went back, no matter how many times they called.
I don’t know how many times I’ve watched Ce walk down the street, and people have walked into others or objects, watching her. Street signs, mail boxes, cars, or they just stop and stare. Men or women both, and Ce is trying to down play her looks. Like I said she’s not a fashion person, mostly she doesn’t wear make-up. Her hair’s in a pony tail, a loose bun or covered with a cap. Big sweat shirts and jeans, tennis shoes is her uniform. She doesn’t like to be the center of attention, not for her looks anyway.
Oh…but her hair is fire. I’m big, tall, black Irish. Cecilla as I said was beautiful, a beautiful Irish rose. Red-orange hair, green eyes, freckles all over. An amazing body, I was graced to be with Cecilla. Ce’s hair is fire, it’s not all red-orange like her mom’s. Ce’s is all colors of red. Blood red, strawberry blond, a lot of red orange, deep red, auburn, a good bit of blond, and a few black hairs mixed in there too. And it graces her bottom, long fire, down her back. Dancing flames.
When Ce was eight or nine, I loved to have her sit on my lap and do her reading to me. Listening, I would watch her eyes. I love her eyes, iridescent green. Never one color of green, all colors of bright, bright green. With a touch of gold thrown in, and an orange spot, in the right one. They change with her moods, flash hot mad, soft and gentle, glitter and laugh when she’s happy. Clear, clear skin, and a small pixie nose, full lips. Just pure beauty.
Then the parts daddy’s aren’t suppose to notice. But I watched her grow more beautiful every day. If you’re a big boob man, you might want a little more breast. If your preference is a bubble butt, you might wish for a little more. If you like taller women, sorry she’s tiny. But she’s perfect that way. But if your honest with yourself, and just want to watch pure female beauty move. You would watch Ce walk.
I know I’ve rattled on here. But I know my Ce hits all the major points. Looks, brains, personality, kind and gentle, honesty, loyalty. Add in drive, responsibility, dependability, and just plain common sense.
I don’t understand why she’s hiding with him, maybe behind him! She could do anything she wanted to do in this world! Why is she hiding?!
We had the biggest fight we’ve ever had, when I caught her lying to me.
She started staying over at Judy’s house with some of her friends. Saturday, Saturday night and Sunday, this went on several times, before they graduated. Then all summer. On into her freshman year at college. I never had to worry about Ce, she left that photo shoot because of drugs. Lost a lot of money, maybe even fame. She never drank, partied out late, or lied to me. I trusted her, I never checked up on her.
I ran into Judy’s mom one day at the store. They’d quit spending the weekends together just before they graduated! That’s when I found out about HIM!!
After her mom died Ce and I never fought, maybe we realized that life was too short and precious. Sure at times we disagreed, usually one would explain their view. I would realize I was being dumb dad, or she would see my point. Then there were the times she just became daughter and followed along, willingly.
OH…GOD we fought that day. Cecilla and I had never fought like that. Never like that, even when I beat that jerk in grade school. Blacken both his eyes and broke his nose, that wasn’t as intense as Ce and I fought that day. Irish tempers times 2. We practically tore that house apart. I shouted at her, she screamed at me. All the trite things that fathers and daughters use to hurt each other. At one point it penetrated my mind that Ce, moved to put the couch between us. My Ce was afraid of me, afraid I’d hurt her. Then I heard myself scream, ‘Not in my house’, ‘You damn well better obey me as long as you live in my house’.
I shut up and realized that it wasn’t just my house. It was our home, Ce’s and my home. Sure my name was on the title and I paid the bill. But it was always Ce and I. It was our home. Then I asked myself, did I want my pride and then loneliness. Or could I trust my adult daughter, my Ce. Even if she had lied to me. It wasn’t a hard decision. I looked at her, she watched me. I hugged her, she me. Tears and two ‘sorry’s’ fell at the same time. I don’t think neither one of us remembered what was said, I know I don’t.
Then she tried to explain it to me, and I tried to understand.
She loved him, wasn’t looking for love. Neither one of them pursued the other. They weren’t being romantic or ‘seeing’ each other. But each gradually realized through mutual respect, they were falling in love.
She reminded me that she’d quit dating early in her junior year. I remembered how worried I was, at that time. I thought that maybe she’d been raped or something. She’d just quit socializing, quit seeing boys altogether, dating. Then dropped contact with most of her male friends.
She’d convinced me that nothing major had happened. She just had gotten tired of High School boys, the wrestling matches on dates, rumors in school from locker room talk. The high hormone one track minds. Sure there were some well mannered boys at school. But when she dated them, they just stared at their feet and could hardly talk to her. Plus none of them lit that spark. She just felt she had to quit the dating scene for awhile.
So when she started falling in love with this guy, it was a big surprise. Even more was the shock of who he was, and that he loved her back. She said that was the amazing part, that he loved her.
I started getting all mad again, wanted to know if this happened in her junior year. But no, she assured me that even though she knew him before her junior year. He demanded that everything be ‘legal,’ before they even started ‘seeing’ each other. He’d asked her to realize just how much he had to lose, if everything wasn’t legal. At that I really started wondering who it was.
I asked if it was one of her teachers, but she just shook her head no. She wouldn’t tell me who, said she might never tell me. Knew it would never end up in marriage and children. And she wanted that, wanted what Cecilla and I had, marriage and children. But for right now he was the one, she needed me to understand. Their need to be together at times, that she had hated hiding from me, lying to me.
She had been, and was still terrified that I wouldn’t condone or understand, because of who he was. Begged that I trust her, her judgment. She realized my need to protect her, but just trust her. She cried, wanted to never have to choose between us. That was her worst fear, the lost of either, possibly both, of us. That would be too much for her to bear. So they had to remain hidden from everyone, and me too. Their little secret love affair.
I said that I would try, for her I would try. (For her I would do or bear anything!!)
It didn’t stop me from wondering and having nightmares. We had never kept secrets from each other. That she felt I wouldn’t understand, caused the nightmares. I realized two things early on, one was that he was older, maybe even close to my age. The other was that he had money, maybe lots of money. Even to myself I couldn’t explain why I felt he was rich, but I knew he was. Not that money would sway Ce’s sense of right and wrong. Or even be attractive to her. She never brought home any sort of gifts or the like. No fancy clothes or jewelry. I suppose she could leave them with him, but I didn’t believe that. I thought that she wouldn’t hide anything from me again. If he even thought he was giving her gifts, ‘for services rendered’. I’d fucking kill him.
Oh, but my nightmares raged, teacher, professor, dean at the college, priest, married man (I really doubted that one), rich corrupt executive, snot nosed predatory rich kid, criminal, mur
derer, crime boss, or worst yet, politician. Who did she think I wouldn’t trust her judgment on? I even considered someone forcing or blackmailing her. But I couldn’t imagine a reason why. Could someone use power or position to intimidate her? Forcing her to be ashamed of herself, doubting me, my love for her.
I became rightfully obsessed, wanting to find out who it was. I fell so far, as trying to follow her one day, but she caught me right away. She begged me to stop trying to find out who he was. She said if she had to choose, because of my distrust, she might have to choose him. Asked me to just let it run It’s course. So I quit trying open methods of discovery, but never quit looking for clues. Trying to deduce the answer.
The little overnight bag made its appearance for the rest of that year. Plus all the way through the summer. She’d tell me when she was leaving and when she’d be back. She still lived at home, and stayed about one weekend a month with me.
As I predicted the shit, excuse me, money hit the fan at the start of the school year.
When Ce went to the registrar for next semester. She found all her fees were paid through a trust, administered by a law firm. As she stormed the lawyers office. (I would have loved to have seen that!) She found that not only this semester’s fees would be paid. So would the next, for the rest of this year. Plus next year for several years, as long as she stayed in school. Plus there was enough money for several years of post graduate study. All she had to do was live, study, and eat..
My GOD…was she mad!! Even I felt like running and ducking for cover. She not only found out everything was paid, she couldn’t even give it back! It was setup as a prepaid, invested trust with the law firm. Under written contract. If she went to college, any college, the trust paid.
The only way that the trust wouldn’t pay, was if she quit school, or ran away. Then the trust rolled over into that college’s scholarship fund. If she quit, the money was still spend! Her hands were tied up in a very neat bow. She was not standing still for that!
He knew her well though, she couldn’t, wouldn’t quit school. Cecilla and I never had much extra money, but what we did have went into Ce’s college fund. Gathered dimes and nickels, pinched pennies. Had mac and cheese nights, beans and wiener days. But money went into Ce’s college fund. Even as a little girl she watched that, and knew what it cost us. She would never disappoint her mom, not now. Whatever it cost her in pride, she would not disappoint her mom’s memory. And he had to have known that. He also had to know, that the only thing up for grabs now, was his head.
I know she did a lot of thinking, I did a lot of soul searching.
I don’t think she talked to him for at least two months. I know the overnight bag disappeared for over three months. Somewhere in that third month, phone calls started slowly appearing. Gradually became more and more frequent. I don’t know who called who, strangely I never felt the need to listen. One Friday night she came timidly to me, with her overnight bag. Said she’d see me Monday, I didn’t say anything.
She’d made the Dean’s List that first year. She made it the second year too. First semester of junior year was in the books, still with that 4.0 grade average.
One evening we were sitting around the kitchen table. I was reading the paper, she was studying. Talking back and forth like an old married couple, neither one really listening to the other. Half an ear open, I heard three words, Nobel Prize Committee.
It fit, as my eyes shot up to hers. I watched the color run out of her skin. She knew she’d screwed up. There was only one man those words meant anything about or to. Because he already had one. I think you could have dropped a pin at the neighbors, and we would have heard it. If you would’ve hit my baby girl with a tuning fork, she would’ve rung. Those beautiful green eyes just bore holes in mine.
Cathalina
- 10.06.2020
- 129
- 0
