Datteren kiggede på glasset foran sig. Blidt gled den pulveragtige blanding hypnotisk gennem vandet. For et øjeblik siden var det blevet tilsat af den unge kvinde. Hun vidste til en vis grad, hvad det betød. Det betød et andet liv. Et liv, hvor alt ikke skulle ske, som det gjorde. For at sikre, at hun ikke følte, at der var et hul i hendes liv. Et hul, der har været der i lang tid og aldrig rigtig er blevet fyldt. Noget, hun kunne rette med blandingen foran sig. Selvom de fleste rapporter og kommentarer, hun havde set online, talte om, hvordan det kunne misforstå brugerens intentioner og ønsker. Selv da hun udfyldte formularen for at få fat i denne magiske løsning, sørgede sælgeren for, at hun forstod, at enhver ændring skulle accepteres, og at der ikke var nogen fortrydelsesret. Men der skulle kun ske én ting. Én simpel ændring, der skulle ske. Hun skulle kun rejse tilbage i tiden for at tale med sin mor. Én chance for at overbevise sin mor om ikke at forlade sin far. I hele sin barndom og voksende ungdom har datteren tænkt på at finde hende. Trods alt var hun en af grundene til hendes eksistens. Hendes far talte ikke om det. Ikke at han aldrig sagde noget. Han fortalte hende, at hun var en sød kvinde. At hun var nødt til at gå. Men det var slutningen på den historie. Ingen beskrivelser af, hvordan hun så ud. Ingen billeder, der var tilbage. Ikke engang tøj eller noget i huset, der nogensinde talte om andre end dem i deres lille hus. Hendes far og hende. Og det var ikke nok til at svare på, hvem hun er. Det svarede ikke på denne følelse, hun har haft hele sit liv. Følelsen af, at hun var anderledes på mange måder. En af dem, som kun blev fremhævet, fordi hun blev opdraget kun af sin far. For på ingen måde lignede hun ham. Den erkendelse kom først, da hun begyndte i gymnasiet. Hendes far syntes aldrig at være generet af det. Men for hende. At se, hvordan de fleste piger ville have meget fra deres mor. Hvordan mange ville forklare deres interesser ved blot at tale om, hvad deres mødre var interesserede i. Det kunne hun ikke gøre med sin far. Hun var ikke interesseret i et intellektuelt liv. Da hun gik i gymnasiet, ville hun i de fleste situationer være centrum for opmærksomheden. Altid finde måder at fascinere drengene med, hvordan hendes stramme tøj kunne fremhæve hendes figur. En figur, der var lille og barmfager. Drengene talte om, hvordan hendes ansigt udstrålede problemer, og på mange måder var hun enig. Selvom hun var klog nok til ikke at gå hele vejen. Men det havde også en anden forklaring. Som kom fra at være hjemme. Når hun var hjemme, opførte hun sig ikke som den opmærksomhedssøgende luder, hun kunne være. Her ville hun hellere tegne og skrive poesi. Det var noget ved hende, der kom fra at bo med sin far. På mange måder var hendes far et forbillede i accept. Aldrig så hun ham blive vred eller endda let irriteret. Ikke engang når hun klædte sig som den luder, hun blev gjort ud til at være af de fleste mennesker. I stedet for at gå imod det, ville han simpelthen fortælle hende om farerne. Fortælle, hvordan hun var ansvarlig for sig selv og for, hvordan andre ville behandle hende. Hans stemme var altid der som et trøstende tæppe, når datteren følte, at han burde have råbt ad hende. Der var altid denne tro fra hendes far, der gav hende et valg. Hun havde altid et valg om at lave sine lektier. Altid et valg om at deltage i middagen. Hvis hun ville have hjælp i et fag, skulle hun bare lægge bøgerne på sin fars skrivebord, og hun ville få al hans opmærksomhed. Det var måske det mest fantastiske ved hendes far. Måden hans øjne ville være rettet mod hende. Som om der kun var ham. Altid dette forstående nik til alt, hvad hun sagde. Hvilket kun gav datteren endnu flere spørgsmål om sin egen fornuft, da hendes drømme var fyldt med ham. Fordi han accepterede hende for den, hun var. Tillod hende at dyrke sine egne blomster og torne, som ingen dreng på hendes alder nogensinde kunne gøre. Så hun prøver at ignorere det. Følelserne, hun har for den eneste mand i sit liv, der faktisk får lov til at se en side, der føles som om den er blevet dyrket af ham personligt. En del af sig selv, hun var mest stolt af. En del, hun i de fleste øjeblikke bare vil afskrive som et tegn på en god terapeut. Ikke et tegn på hendes spirende seksualitet. Hvilket til gengæld kunne dæmpes af øjeblikke, hvor de ville støde sammen. For det er ikke som om hendes far var skabt til at overleve hendes voksende attitude ind i ungdommen. Men samtidig gjorde den respekt og ansvarlighed, hun modtog, at hun kunne se, hvordan hendes far også var et menneske. Et menneske, der på mange måder manglede noget. En af dem var ikke at have en partner. En, hendes far kunne læne sig op ad gennem de vanskeligheder, han måtte udholde. At være en ensom far har ikke sine fordele på datingmarkedet. Især hvis barnet ikke forstår, at hendes far har brug for kærlighed. Det eneste, barnet ser, er, hvordan hendes far måske giver en anden den opmærksomhed, hun ønsker for sig selv. Jaloux. Det var ikke noget, datteren var særlig stolt af. Men det var ikke noget, hun kunne ryste af sig. En følelse, hun endnu ikke ville acceptere fra sig selv. I lang tid ville hun ikke give plads til, at hendes far kunne finde den eneste ene. I de fleste tilfælde med tanken i hovedet, at hendes mor kunne
komme hjem hvert øjeblik. Hun var ikke død. Hun var bare… væk. Hvilket betød, at hun altid kunne beslutte sig for at vende tilbage. Måske et barns drøm. Men helt sikkert en, der blev modbevist for datteren hvert eneste år. Nu var der ikke længere tid for moren til at komme hjem. Universitetet var slut. Et nyt liv uden hendes far lå foran hende. Og datteren ønskede kun én ting. At vende tilbage til en tidslinje, hvor hendes far ville have haft nogen at være sammen med. En kone. GLUCK GLUCK GLUCK. Forvirret. Bedøvet. Eller begge dele. Verden begyndte at snurre. Så følelsen af, at alt bliver suget ind et sted. Til ingen steder. Alt glider ned gennem et rør. Et rør, der bliver smallere og smallere. Som om universet synes at interloop. Væsentligt udvidende grænsen for tid og rum selv, da datteren med et træk bliver kastet ind i mørket af noget nyt. Hendes hoved bevæger sig stadig lidt, da hun skal tilpasse sig det rum, hun er i. Da hun drak, hvad det end var, havde hun været i sit værelse. Men nu, hvor der først var en seng, var der ingenting. Så hun falder til jorden. Kigger på, hvor hendes skrivebord skulle være, og finder kun et stort skab med forskellige slags herretøj derinde. På jorden foran det er der en stor kuffert. I den kan hun skelne noget rejsetøj, der endnu ikke er pakket ud. Så begynder det at gå op for datteren, at hun ikke burde blive fundet i sin fars hus uden en god grund. Hun ved det, som om det er en del af fornuften, der er blevet givet hende ved at blive transporteret til dette sted. BAM. Smerte splitter gennem hendes hoved, da hun prøver at rejse sig, kun for at indse, at der faktisk er et skrivebord. Et, der er præcis placeret over hendes hoved. Hun bander, og så hører hun en stemme. En mandlig, ru stemme, som hun genkender alt for godt. Selvom der er en forskel i denne bekendthed. I stedet for at lyde bekymret og lidt træt, lød denne glad, energisk endda og… ung. Den lød optimistisk over for noget. Næsten som den tone, der ville fortælle datteren, hvordan de skulle på lejrtur. Og selvom denne stemme lød glad, skræmte den datteren lidt. Mest fordi den kom tættere på det blåmalede værelse, hun gemte sig lidt i ved at være under skrivebordet. “Ja, Chelsea, alt er blevet taget hånd om. Når jeg tager af sted, vil du bare blive tildelt Doktor Westbourne. Jeg ved, at lige nu er ikke det bedste tidspunkt for dig, at jeg tager på ferie, men jeg kan forsikre dig om, at Doktor Westbourne er en fremragende psykolog.” Stemmen er stille et stykke tid, da den gule dør åbner til værelset. I lyset kigger datteren op for at se silhuetten af sin far. Det blev straks svært at se væk fra ham. Der var et sexet, kvasi-smil på hans ansigt, da han smider noget oven på tøjbunken. Så går han langsomt tilbage, uden at bemærke den unge kvinde, der stirrer på ham fra under skrivebordet. Hendes mund åben, da hun ikke kan lade være med at kigge på hans stærke kropsbygning. Ikke en, der taler om at gå i fitnesscenter. Men en, der næsten taler om en fortid som skovhugger, hun var sikker på, at hun ikke vidste noget om. Han havde altid haft denne bygning om sig. Måske var det bare fordi, hun nu kunne se på hans karamelbrune hår indrammet i hans ungdom. Og hun kunne bare ikke nægte sig selv at kigge over den unge mands ben. Finder sig selv i en næsten lystfuld trance, da han så forlader rummet, lige så hurtigt som han kom ind. Først da han går ud, synes hun at indse, hvad hun lige gjorde. Kiggede på sin far på en måde, som ingen datter nogensinde skulle kigge på deres far. Et blik, hun aldrig har kastet på nogen dreng. Finder sine lår fugtige. Forlegenheden når hendes ansigt fuldstændigt, da hendes kinder rødmer. Det skulle ikke have været den følelse. Hun ved det. Mens hun samtidig ikke kan ryste følelsen af, da hun kiggede på hans buskede øjenbryn. Ved, hvordan grå blandet med grønne øjne ville se tilbage på hende. Øjnene, der advarede hende om at krydse gaden. Øjnene, der opmuntrede hende, da hun begyndte at læse historier for ham i stedet for, at han læste for hende. Det var de samme øjne, der bare fik hendes hjerte til at falde i det øjeblik, hun lige kom fra at kigge på ham. Det var ikke engang et bevidst øjeblik. Bare et fyldt med hedt blodede, primale følelser. Et sted tænker hun tilbage på advarslerne. Kommentarerne og advarslerne, hun hørte om eliksirerne, ringer i hendes ører, da hun blidt kravler ud. Hendes hjerte føler stadig efterskælvet af, hvad der skete, da hun kigger ned i kufferten. Ser en kalender liggende nu oven på tøjet. Den viser året. Men det kunne ikke være sandt. Det gav ikke mening for datteren, da hun kiggede på året igen og igen. For tilbage på hende kiggede tallene fra hendes eget fødselsår. Så uden megen tøven rejser hun sig op. Går mod døren, mens hun råber sin fars navn. Fordi der ikke var tegn på en kommende mor. “Robert!” Lyden dør ud, da datteren trækkes tilbage til sin egen tid. Snart mærker hun trækket ved sin navle, da hun tvinges tilbage gennem den samme tunnel, der tidligere havde skubbet hende derhen. Alt imens i fortiden kan Robert høre det pludselige kald til ham. Hører den bløde lyd af en kvinde, der kalder hans navn. En stemme, der lød fortryllende. Som om det var et kald fra en sirene, da han ignorerede opkaldet med Chelsea et øjeblik. Går ovenpå for at se, om han var sikker på at have hørt stemmen. Kun for at
find the room as empty as he left it. In the present the daughter however finds herself to be in her room. Having more questions in her head than answers. First off, there was still the embarrassment what happened the moment she saw her father. Though now completely writing it off as something the potion has done to her. The second was that there hadn’t been any woman in her father’s life when she was born. Which could only mean that it would have been a short fling her father must have had. Somehow the thought makes her angry. To think that someone just left them after a short while. To leave her father to take care of her instead of staying by his side. It left her even more confused about the feelings she harbors for her father. Normally she could separate them. The unnatural attraction and the bond they had. But now, after what happened…she shakes her head and walks to her bed. She knows she has to sleep about this. Robert is just two doors further removed from his daughter as he is already asleep. Dreaming about something that apparently bothered him for a long time. The sound of some woman he knew very well. That sound which he heard before the girl would even be able to make such a sound. But he was sure. Even more sure as she has grown up. That the sound of her was the same sound he heard before she even existed. And so Robert dreams about the sound he heard years ago. Not understanding why he remembered that particular moment. Though it doesn’t matter. After all, it is just a dream. A dream about such an attractive voice that formed his name. The daughter wakes up the next morning. Feeling somewhat better than she did yesterday as her hands softly travel along her body. Feeling how her skin has grown sensitive through the night. Every touch sparking a curl of pleasure through her skin. Traveling down to where she leads her fingers. Feeling how they dig slowly into her flesh. Accepting the heat soon enough as she allows a finger to slip into her cunt. Feeling how her juices slither down against her fingers as her breathing quickens. The depth of the pleasure reaching new crevices as she displaces both her legs to the sides. Allowing herself to get in a steady pace as she starts to fuck her pussy while breathing hard transforms into slurred husky breaths. Breaths that form into words. Encouraging to go deeper. Faster. Needing for this outlet to happen as her back arches. Cum glistens along her hands as she starts to realize she is softly chanting her father’s name. How she keeps on saying ‘Robert’ every time she delves her fingers deeper and deeper inside of her. The image from yesterday comes back to her as she thinks about his strong body. How he could be looking down at her right now. Imagining even how his member would be pressing against her tummy. Feeling the heat of her father’s cock press against her naked body. It made her go over the edge as she feels streams of her cum decorating her hands. Dribbling down on her bed as her body relaxes completely. All the while tears are streaming down her face. Confusion painting her brows as she tries to figure out why it was exactly him. Why it couldn’t be anyone else. But her body was satisfied. It had its release. And so it almost knew, as she could feel the pull on her bellybutton. Feeling how her body, as if in a dream, flies through the same tube. The same way it went the day before. And cognitively she knows what must have happened as she feels her naked body landing on the ground. The wooden floor grinding against her hardened nipples. In some way, she wants to wait for this moment to pass. Thinking that soon enough she would be back again. Back in her own room. But after a few minutes of laying on the ground naked she figures it might have nothing to do with how long she is here. But it might depend on a specific thing. She stands up. Apparently that is not the thing that pulls her back to the present. So she walks over to the suitcase. It is still there. Still with the agenda and the clothes in them. Suddenly, very aware of her own nakedness, she decides it might be a good idea to use this opportunity to dress herself. There is a grey shirt that covers almost everything. Acting mostly like a dress as she looks at herself. Her cheeks are completely red as she can’t help but think about her younger dad having been in this shirt. Ruffles of pleasure walk over her skin as she moves through the room towards the outside. As she walks, she feels the air rising against her pussy. It asks only a bit of her attention as it feels like soft little tongues penetrate her delicate folds. As she walks, both the pleasure and her new attire make it so her thighs glide against one another in an attempt to not have the material of the shirt show too much. Which has the side effect of her ass shaking just a bit more. It feels in a lot of ways naughty. Though the main reason for that, was that this was her father’s shirt she was wearing without anything underneath it. Still, she didn’t feel like she should remove it as she walks downstairs. Not entirely sure why she was moving downstairs, only to then see her younger father cross the hallway. Without thinking she calls his name again. “Robert” Just like that, she disappears again from the past. Teaching her in a cruel way one thing. One thing that she wouldn’t be able to grasp in the first few times she went back in
—
find the room as empty as he left it. In the present the daughter however finds herself to be in her room. Having more questions in her head than answers. First off, there was still the embarrassment what happened the moment she saw her father. Though now completely writing it off as something the potion has done to her. The second was that there hadn’t been any woman in her father’s life when she was born. Which could only mean that it would have been a short fling her father must have had. Somehow the thought makes her angry. To think that someone just left them after a short while. To leave her father to take care of her instead of staying by his side. It left her even more confused about the feelings she harbors for her father. Normally she could separate them. The unnatural attraction and the bond they had. But now, after what happened…she shakes her head and walks to her bed. Robert is just two doors further removed from his daughter as he is already asleep. Dreaming about something that apparently bothered him for a long time. The sound of some woman he knew very well. That sound which he heard before the girl would even be able to make such a sound. But he was sure. Even more sure as she has grown up. That the sound of her was the same sound he heard before she even existed. And so Robert dreams about the sound he heard years ago. Not understanding why he remembered that particular moment. Though it doesn’t matter. After all, it is just a dream. A dream about such an attractive voice that formed his name. The daughter wakes up the next morning. Feeling somewhat better than she did yesterday as her hands softly travel along her body. Feeling how her skin has grown sensitive through the night. Every touch sparking a curl of pleasure through her skin. Traveling down to where she leads her fingers. Feeling how they dig slowly into her flesh. Accepting the heat soon enough as she allows a finger to slip into her cunt. Feeling how her juices slither down against her fingers as her breathing quickens. The depth of the pleasure reaching new crevices as she displaces both her legs to the sides. Allowing herself to get in a steady pace as she starts to fuck her pussy while breathing hard transforms into slurred husky breaths. Breaths that form into words. Encouraging to go deeper. Faster. Needing for this outlet to happen as her back arches. Cum glistens along her hands as she starts to realize she is softly chanting her father’s name. How she keeps on saying ‘Robert’ every time she delves her fingers deeper and deeper inside of her. The image from yesterday comes back to her as she thinks about his strong body. How he could be looking down at her right now. Imagining even how his member would be pressing against her tummy. Feeling the heat of her father’s cock press against her naked body. It made her go over the edge as she feels streams of her cum decorating her hands. Dribbling down on her bed as her body relaxes completely. All the while tears are streaming down her face. Confusion painting her brows as she tries to figure out why it was exactly him. Why it couldn’t be anyone else. But her body was satisfied. It had its release. And so it almost knew, as she could feel the pull on her bellybutton. Feeling how her body, as if in a dream, flies through the same tube. The same way it went the day before. And cognitively she knows what must have happened as she feels her naked body landing on the ground. The wooden floor grinding against her hardened nipples. In some way, she wants to wait for this moment to pass. Thinking that soon enough she would be back again. Back in her own room. But after a few minutes of laying on the ground naked she figures it might have nothing to do with how long she is here. But it might depend on a specific thing. She stands up. Apparently that is not the thing that pulls her back to the present. So she walks over to the suitcase. It is still there. Still with the agenda and the clothes in them. Suddenly, very aware of her own nakedness, she decides it might be a good idea to use this opportunity to dress herself. There is a grey shirt that covers almost everything. Acting mostly like a dress as she looks at herself. Her cheeks are completely red as she can’t help but think about her younger dad having been in this shirt. Ruffles of pleasure walk over her skin as she moves through the room towards the outside. As she walks, she feels the air rising against her pussy. It asks only a bit of her attention as it feels like soft little tongues penetrate her delicate folds. As she walks, both the pleasure and her new attire make it so her thighs glide against one another in an attempt to not have the material of the shirt show too much. Which has the side effect of her ass shaking just a bit more. It feels in a lot of ways naughty. Though the main reason for that, was that this was her father’s shirt she was wearing without anything underneath it. Still, she didn’t feel like she should remove it as she walks downstairs. Not entirely sure why she was moving downstairs, only to then see her younger father cross the hallway. Without thinking she calls his name again. “Robert” Just like that, she disappears again from the past. Teaching her in a cruel way one thing. One thing that she wouldn’t be able to grasp in the first few times she went back in
—
find the room as empty as he left it. In the present the daughter however finds herself to be in her room. Having more questions in her head than answers. First off, there was still the embarrassment what happened the moment she saw her father. Though now completely writing it off as something the potion has done to her. The second was that there hadn’t been any woman in her father’s life when she was born. Which could only mean that it would have been a short fling her father must have had. Somehow the thought makes her angry. To think that someone just left them after a short while. To leave her father to take care of her instead of staying by his side. It left her even more confused about the feelings she harbors for her father. Normally she could separate them. The unnatural attraction and the bond they had. But now, after what happened…she shakes her head and walks to her bed. Robert is just two doors further removed from his daughter as he is already asleep. Dreaming about something that apparently bothered him for a long time. The sound of some woman he knew very well. That sound which he heard before the girl would even be able to make such a sound. But he was sure. Even more sure as she has grown up. That the sound of her was the same sound he heard before she even existed. And so Robert dreams about the sound he heard years ago. Not understanding why he remembered that particular moment. Though it doesn’t matter. After all, it is just a dream. A dream about such an attractive voice that formed his name. The daughter wakes up the next morning. Feeling somewhat better than she did yesterday as her hands softly travel along her body. Feeling how her skin has grown sensitive through the night. Every touch sparking a curl of pleasure through her skin. Traveling down to where she leads her fingers. Feeling how they dig slowly into her flesh. Accepting the heat soon enough as she allows a finger to slip into her cunt. Feeling how her juices slither down against her fingers as her breathing quickens. The depth of the pleasure reaching new crevices as she displaces both her legs to the sides. Allowing herself to get in a steady pace as she starts to fuck her pussy while breathing hard transforms into slurred husky breaths. Breaths that form into words. Encouraging to go deeper. Faster. Needing for this outlet to happen as her back arches. Cum glistens along her hands as she starts to realize she is softly chanting her father’s name. How she keeps on saying ‘Robert’ every time she delves her fingers deeper and deeper inside of her. The image from yesterday comes back to her as she thinks about his strong body. How he could be looking down at her right now. Imagining even how his member would be pressing against her tummy. Feeling the heat of her father’s cock press against her naked body. It made her go over the edge as she feels streams of her cum decorating her hands. Dribbling down on her bed as her body relaxes completely. All the while tears are streaming down her face. Confusion painting her brows as she tries to figure out why it was exactly him. Why it couldn’t be anyone else. But her body was satisfied. It had its release. And so it almost knew, as she could feel the pull on her bellybutton. Feeling how her body, as if in a dream, flies through the same tube. The same way it went the day before. And cognitively she knows what must have happened as she feels her naked body landing on the ground. The wooden floor grinding against her hardened nipples. In some way, she wants to wait for this moment to pass. Thinking that soon enough she would be back again. Back in her own room. But after a few minutes of laying on the ground naked she figures it might have nothing to do with how long she is here. But it might depend on a specific thing. She stands up. Apparently that is not the thing that pulls her back to the present. So she walks over to the suitcase. It is still there. Still with the agenda and the clothes in them. Suddenly, very aware of her own nakedness, she decides it might be a good idea to use this opportunity to dress herself. There is a grey shirt that covers almost everything. Acting mostly like a dress as she looks at herself. Her cheeks are completely red as she can’t help but think about her younger dad having been in this shirt. Ruffles of pleasure walk over her skin as she moves through the room towards the outside. As she walks, she feels the air rising against her pussy. It asks only a bit of her attention as it feels like soft little tongues penetrate her delicate folds. As she walks, both the pleasure and her new attire make it so her thighs glide against one another in an attempt to not have the material of the shirt show too much. Which has the side effect of her ass shaking just a bit more. It feels in a lot of ways naughty. Though the main reason for that, was that this was her father’s shirt she was wearing without anything underneath it. Still, she didn’t feel like she should remove it as she walks downstairs. Not entirely sure why she was moving downstairs, only to then see her younger father cross the hallway. Without thinking she calls his name again. “Robert” Just like that, she disappears again from the past. Teaching her in a cruel way one thing. One thing that she wouldn’t be able to grasp in the first few times she went back in
—
find the room as empty as he left it. In the present the daughter however finds herself to be in her room. Having more questions in her head than answers. First off, there was still the embarrassment what happened the moment she saw her father. Though now completely writing it off as something the potion has done to her. The second was that there hadn’t been any woman in her father’s life when she was born. Which could only mean that it would have been a short fling her father must have had. Somehow the thought makes her angry. To think that someone just left them after a short while. To leave her father to take care of her instead of staying by his side. It left her even more confused about the feelings she harbors for her father. Normally she could separate them. The unnatural attraction and the bond they had. But now, after what happened…she shakes her head and walks to her bed. Robert is just two doors further removed from his daughter as he is already asleep. Dreaming about something that apparently bothered him for a long time. The sound of some woman he knew very well. That sound which he heard before the girl would even be able to make such a sound. But he was sure. Even more sure as she has grown up. That the sound of her was the same sound he heard before she even existed. And so Robert dreams about the sound he heard years ago. Not understanding why he remembered that particular moment. Though it doesn’t matter. After all, it is just a dream. A dream about such an attractive voice that formed his name. The daughter wakes up the next morning. Feeling somewhat better than she did yesterday as her hands softly travel along her body. Feeling how her skin has grown sensitive through the night. Every touch sparking a curl of pleasure through her skin. Traveling down to where she leads her fingers. Feeling how they dig slowly into her flesh. Accepting the heat soon enough as she allows a finger to slip into her cunt. Feeling how her juices slither down against her fingers as her breathing quickens. The depth of the pleasure reaching new crevices as she displaces both her legs to the sides. Allowing herself to get in a steady pace as she starts to fuck her pussy while breathing hard transforms into slurred husky breaths. Breaths that form into words. Encouraging to go deeper. Faster. Needing for this outlet to happen as her back arches. Cum glistens along her hands as she starts to realize she is softly chanting her father’s name. How she keeps on saying ‘Robert’ every time she delves her fingers deeper and deeper inside of her. The image from yesterday comes back to her as she thinks about his strong body. How he could be looking down at her right now. Imagining even how his member would be pressing against her tummy. Feeling the heat of her father’s cock press against her naked body. It made her go over the edge as she feels streams of her cum decorating her hands. Dribbling down on her bed as her body relaxes completely. All the while tears are streaming down her face. Confusion painting her brows as she tries to figure out why it was exactly him. Why it couldn’t be anyone else. But her body was satisfied. It had its release. And so it almost knew, as she could feel the pull on her bellybutton. Feeling how her body, as if in a dream, flies through the same tube. The same way it went the day before. And cognitively
Tid til at se sin far. Selvom hun hurtigt fandt ud af, hvordan man kom til fortiden. Det eneste, hun skulle gøre, var at komme. Det betød ikke så meget, hvordan det skete. Men de øjeblikke, hvor hun var hjemme og følte behovet, ville hendes tanker i de fleste tilfælde være involveret med den flotte mand, som hendes far var. Noget, der gennem dagene begyndte at blive mindre generende. Mere som en detalje om den mand, hun havde fantasier om. Alt sammen fordi hun ikke engang kunne se ham, når hun var tilbage der. Tilbage i fortiden, men ikke i stand til at… “Tale” sagde hun. Efter at have sagt sin fars navn fem gange mere. Hun har endelig fundet ud af det, da hun føler, hvordan hun bliver trukket ved sin navle. Det føles næsten som en belønning for hende, da hun endelig har fundet ud af, hvad der generede hende. Hendes tilbagevenden til nutiden. Noget, der bare ikke føltes rigtigt. Hun ville ikke, men samtidig ved hun, at hun er bundet til sit eget liv. Hele tiden stemmer datoerne i fortiden slet ikke overens. Gennem sine mange besøg har hun ikke fundet nogen spor efter en mulig kvinde i sin unge fars liv. Mest fordi han nu var væk fra sit hus. Han var endelig taget på sine rejser. Hele tiden efterlod han hende til at vende tilbage til et helt tomt hus. Før havde det ikke generet hende så meget. Mest fordi det føltes som om, at hun hvert øjeblik kunne blive trukket tilbage til nutiden. Men nu ville det være irriterende at gå til fortiden, uden at have noget at lave, men vente på, at han vendte tilbage. Men alligevel vidste hun, at hun ville vende tilbage. Bare fordi hun ved, at hun vil tænke på ham igen. Og når hun gør det, ved hun, at hun ikke vil kunne stoppe sig selv længere. Hendes nyfundne afhængighed har endda påvirket hendes normale dagligdag, da hendes far har bemærket sin datters anderledes attitude. Selvom Robert bare tror, at det er noget helt urelateret til kærlighed. Trækket var stærkere denne gang. Hun kunne føle det denne gang i sin krop, da den tilpasser sig fortidens virkelighed. Selvom den fornøjelse, der syntes at være bundet til denne virkelighed, syntes at være stoppet helt, da hun fandt ud af, hvordan man kom tilbage. Snart fandt hun også ud af, at skjorten, hun har på, ikke rigtig gør noget for hendes krop længere. Hun forstår det ikke, mens hun går rundt i huset og prøver at finde noget, der kunne fjerne denne følelse af næsten neutralitet. Den afhængige følelse af den dejlige varme fornøjelse driver hende til at lede efter noget. Kun for at føre hende ingen steder. På dette tidspunkt står hun med skjorten på i køkkenet. Frustreret som hun er, spørger hun højt. “Hvad skal jeg gøre?” Hvilket udløser følelsen i hendes navle, da hun føler, hvordan hendes krop begynder at vågne op i nutidens virkelighed. Føler røret forme sig omkring hende øjeblikkeligt og transportere hende til her og nu. Hele tiden forsøger hun at finde ud af, hvad svaret kunne være, men ved det slet ikke. Det lander hende i køkkenet med skjorten stadig på. Hvor hun ikke er den eneste, da Robert blidt bevæger spatlen over burgerne. Lader fedtet stige op i luften, mens han ser over på sin datter, der ser ud til at være gået ind i køkkenet. Han er noget overrasket over, hvad hun har på, en grå oversized skjorte, men det er ikke som om, hun ikke har haft noget på, der ikke krævede meget af seerens fantasi. Et eller andet sted ville Robert gerne se hende bære mindre vovede tøj, mens han samtidig ved, at han bare skal acceptere hende. Det var virkelig en kamp at opdrage et barn, der ville gøre alle mulige ting, mens verden selv ikke var så skåret ud, som hun var. Alligevel havde han fået det til at ske. Nu var hun færdig med sine studier. Han havde ikke set meget til hende i den sidste uge. Ikke til middag eller gennem huset. Når alt kommer til alt, var hun ikke et barn længere. Snart forventede han at høre nyheden om, at hun flyttede ud. At hun havde fundet et job. Men for nu ville han altid have hendes middag klar. Selv hvis hun ikke dukkede op, ville det være klar til hende i køleskabet, hvis hun havde brug for det. Hvis der var problemer, kunne de nu tale om det som voksne. Hvis hun havde brug for penge eller råd, ville han være der. Så han tænker ikke meget over det, da hans datter spørger højt, hvad hun skal gøre.