Back in my bed a sleepless night began, a true waking nightmare. I couldn't believe what I had done, your prompting didn't make a difference. I was the adult and the one responsible for what his daughter did. I could not hold a twelve-year-old accountable for my actions. Regardless, this was what I had been fantasising about for a year.
That morning I couldn't bring myself to go wake you up for breakfast. You arrived early, all by yourself, in the kitchen, like the good girl you are. Your face was gleaming. There was no way my guilty gloom wouldn't give way as we ate breakfast in our pajamas. Later, while I was finishing dressing in my room, you showed up, with a still smiling face, though with a hint of doubt in it.
"Will you comb my hair Daddy?"
Combing your hair was one of our loving rituals, but this time, amidst the upheaval in my mind, I had completely neglected it. I went to your room, you hopping along, cheered by the reassurance this step in our routine wasn't going to change, me with my first carefree smile of the morning.
Your long flaxen hair felt silkier than ever, holding strands of it as I slowly ran the brush down. Through your short years I didn't remember having seen you so happy. More than happy, I could perceive a slight heaving of your chest. You thanked me like you never failed to do for anything I did for you, and sometimes only for being your daddy. On our way to school, your pale bare knees became tantalizing with a new, higher intensity. You followed my stare down, then back up, to give me a smile of encouragement which I imagined said “Do you like them daddy?” —a shiny beam of surprise.
My workday went by, my mind fraught with images, images I had been conjuring of late, along with what I had done, all becoming a source of deep disquiet. Thoughts I had fought away with little success were brought into a too physical reality. To your text messages I replied with monosyllables, none of the usual affectionate emojis.
When I picked you up, you didn't wait for me to ask about your school day, you gave me your usual glowing report. I replied with praise, a praise that had brought you joy since you could first make sense of it.
Upon arrival, instead of indulging in our close company, like we never failed to do when your mother was away, I asked if you hadn't schoolwork to do. You caught yourself, as if you were about to give an unthoughtful reply, then said "yes" and went to your room with your happiness fading away. I found work from the office, which I very rarely did at home. At supper your face was far less bright than when we got from school, and it didn't make our repast easier. I was strung between talking about last night or pretending it didn't happen.
As I laid down in my bed, unsuccessfully trying to distract my mind with the nightly news, you showed up with quiet tears rolling down your cheeks. I turned off the TV and, speechless, my heart tipped over with pain.
"Daddy, can I give you a good night kiss?"
It had completely slipped my mind. Every night, ever since you came home from the maternity ward, I would come to your bed to wish you goodnight with a small peck on your forehead.
"Yes, my baby girl, come here to Daddy."
You slid in between my sheets, hugged me and I felt your face, warm with tears, pressed against my cheek for a tight, close kiss. I didn't dare ask what was the matter.
"I'm sorry for what I did last night Dad. I only wanted to make you happy because I love you so much."
"My little princess, it's not on you, it's on me."
I held back, not knowing how to go on without hurting you.
"I'll never do it again, I promise. You know I've never broken a promise."
That was the turning point in my life. You were very obedient, and if I took your word you were going to live up to it. Without giving it any thought, at that very moment, my words flowed as if I had been planning a scene for years, when it was only a fantasy with a loose plot at best.
"My baby girl, I really liked what you did last night. You can do it anytime you want, it makes me so happy."
The floodgates had been opened.
"Are you sure? I don't want to upset you again."
I took your little hand, and brought it down to my very quickly hardening penis. You giggled, as you grasped it again, moving up and down as if you had learned all there was to it from that one time. You laid down your head on my chest and went on, sensing my enjoyment. On and on, silently, with an unbelievable precocious skill. When I reached orgasm, I naturally lost control for a few seconds, without taking note you were getting your hand viscous with my semen.
"Princess..."
You gasped in surprise.
"I'm getting your sheets all dirty!"
"No, my baby, don't worry about it, it'll be okay, don't worry."
You had the expression of surprise as you discovered how quickly my semen dried up on your hand as you brought it up to my chest, flexing your fingers.
"Can I stay with you tonight? Just tonight, I promise I’ll be good."
No matter how close we were and how much time we spent together, you had never before slept with me. You always slept on your own, first in your cradle, then in your little bed.
"Yes, of course. Come here, Princess.” I cuddled you under my arm. “You have never stopped being good. Just remember you are making me happier than ever. It's me who'll promise never to act so silly again."
"You’ve never been silly Dad."
I held you tight against me.
"Sleep well, Princess."
You fell asleep fast with my arm over you. I held it in place for as long as I could, before it turned numb, taking it away with the utmost care. You went on sleeping, happily cuddled by my side.
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