His Mothers Diary
- 4 years ago
- 55
- 0
Watching JulieChapter 8: The Diary free porn video
They say our lives are an open book, and there it was: Julie's diary, open on the kitchen table. Its siren call hit me in the gut, and I didn't need any Greek to understand, "Read me, Read me." I reached for it and was about to pick it up when it hit me. This was a line that maybe I didn't want to cross.
It's not that Julie was terribly secretive, at least my spouse and I didn't think she was. Sure, there was stuff we didn't know about--she was a teenager, after all--but we were pretty certain we knew the important things. There were some things we really liked knowing. Maybe it's kinky, but more than once we'd seen her with Stephanie or William, and it was pretty evident that this is a girl who knew and liked just about everything about her body.
No, we'd never touched her that way, and in fact as far as we knew she didn't know we'd seen her, and we were pretty sure she wasn't aware that we knew she'd watched us a couple of times. I'm not saying we weren't interested. I was, at any rate, and knowing my spouse I was pretty sure she had a tingle or two, but I was also absolutely certain neither of us was going to make a real move in that direction.
That's different from watching or reading. My spouse and I were great watchers: we'd been watchers since before our marriage, and we liked performing, too. Not intercourse in the public park, maybe, but pretty much everything up to that point was fine with us. We'd joined friends and others now and then, too. So, watching and being watched was fine with us.
Privacy's a funny thing. Teenagers wear it like armor, and the biggest sin in the teenager's world is piercing that armor. Ask permission, first, I know that. On the other hand, doesn't the teenager have some kind of responsibility not to leave the sacrosanct diary open and out in public?
I didn't know what Julie had been thinking. When I'd gotten up this morning the table was bare. After breakfast, I'd left a sleepy Julie at the table working through a bowl of cereal while I headed out to the garage to fix that stupid lawnmower. Fix? Hah, that's a joke. I was going to oil it and tighten a couple of nuts and bolts, and if that didn't do the job I was going to haul it down to Brown's Hardware and let them take care of it. As far as I'm concerned, if I can't fix it with a screwdriver, a hammer, and a can of WD-40, it's someone else's job.
Anyway, I didn't get anywhere this morning, so I hauled it out of the garage and into the back of the station wagon, and took it off to Brown's. Next week, they said. Their fixit guy wouldn't be able to look at it for a couple of days. That was fine with me. I hated mowing the lawn in the first place. For all I cared, the grass could grow until I got a citation from the city for failing to keep it mowed. My spouse didn't have the same view, unfortunately.
When I got back it was almost lunch time, the kitchen was empty, the diary was lying there open to today's entry, and there was no sign of my spouse or Julie.
"Hello?"
No answer.
"Anyone here?"
Still nothing.
It took me a minute, standing there, before I saw the note taped to the microwave. At the mall, it said, {back by dinnertime. XXX}
OK, that was fine. I went back to the diary. I had squirrels, big ones, in my gut. I also had a hard-on in my pants. I turned to the previous page. It had today's date on it.
God, it began, I can't believe what I saw!
My hands were shaking so hard the diary fell to the table. I stared at it as though it was a live grenade. In fact, I felt pretty much the same way I'd felt back in basic training when we'd done live grenade practice. That afternoon my hands were sweating so bad I could barely hang on to the thing, much less throw it. I was practically pissing in my pants at the time so it wasn't until afterwards that I felt sorry for the training NCO assigned to show us. After all, he had to sit there while 40 or so wet-behind-the-ears idiot kids played soldier pulling the pin out and throwing the things over the eight-foot blast wall in front of us.
OK, perhaps that's a little overdone. I wasn't pissing in my pants this afternoon, but those squirrels sure has hell knew something was up. I sat down at the table. Fell down, really. Drew a deep breath. Another one. Stared at the stupid book.
This is Julie's diary. Julie. Our daughter. Do you really want to know? Does she want you to know? She trusts you. She trusts her mother, too. Are you going to betray that trust? Why? For a little thrill?
Actually, I was thinking it might be a pretty big thrill.
What do you do with what you read? Ask her? Tell your spouse? What? What!
Then my mind cleared. The squirrels went off to bother someone else. I wasn't going to do it, at least not this afternoon at any rate. I picked up the book, closed it, and took it up to Julie's room left it, closed, on her desk.
"Hi, Dad!"
"Hi, Julie!"
She hugged me tight and kissed me on the cheek, the shopping bags in her hand banging against my hip.
"Mom let me get a bunch of stuff."
"So I see."
I looked at my spouse. She rolled her eyes before she stepped into my arms and kissed me, too. Only she pressed herself against me top to bottom and, I swear, gave a little wriggle when she did.
"Wait'll you see what Julie got."
"Oh, yeah? Julie, are you going to show me?"
Julie giggled and spun around and headed up the stairs. I watched her tight bottom move and turned back to my spouse, who had also been watching. I pulled her tight to me and kissed her thoroughly.
"What's up with her?"
My spouse smiled.
"Wait until you see."
It was early in the summer. Summer means lighter clothes, no surprise, so I wasn't entirely unprepared for the light yellow sun dress Julie was wearing when she came down the stairs after a few minutes. I was about to compliment her when I saw she had her diary in her hand and was looking straight at me.
"Dad?"
"Yeah, sweetie?"
"Did you put my diary on my desk?"
"I sure did."
"Why?"
"You left it in the kitchen this morning. I found it when I came back from the hardware store."
She looked at me. I could see a question in her eyes, and I jumped in without waiting for her to ask it.
"I didn't read it, Julie. It was open, but I closed it and took it straight to your room."
Her smile lit up the room and she threw herself into my arms.
"Thanks, Dad!"
I patted her back, most of which was bare.
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