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Thanksgiving
by Vivian Darkbloom
Clambering upstairs at my ex-mother-in-law's house, I followed my
the long straight blonde locks of my 9-year-old, alongside her
dark-skinned friend Rita, in a maroon fancy dress. Lily, my
daughter, sported a dark passionate plaid dress-skirt, with
skinny legs clad in fancy white hose, shiny black strap dress
shoes on her dainty feet.
"Your daughter wants to show you something in the attic," my
ex-wife had said earlier, with a knowing smile. Just how much she
knew, I was never sure, but being a lesbian herself she was
surely aware of the anguish of being judged for one's sexuality.
Then my daughter had burst in with her friend, gaily skipping
around.
"Daddy!" she exclaimed overjoyed, running into my arms as I
hoisted her up to my hip, and she perched contentedly for a few
minutes, hair windblown from child's play and scampering, pouring
out expression of gently smiling intimate affection in the way
only a child can, the hot softness of her crotch pressed firmly
against my side.
I had arrived under the classic New-England-style November moody
grey, leaves still blazing red and gold all around, transporting
my meagre offering of boiled potatoes to the neatly built
colonial home of brick with steel-blue wood trim.
Elaine, my ex-wife, lifted the lid curiously as I set them down
on the counter, raising an eyebrow, a short lock of black hair
falling to touch the lightly powdered rouge on her cheeks.
"Well, I left the heat on," sheepishly I explained, as she
glanced at the grim lunarscape of cracked and dried congealed
starchy substance within.
She suppressed a laugh. "I see," she said. "Well, we'll fix them
all up, and I'm sure they'll be fine."
Secretly I was hoping they had boiled another set of potatoes
without telling me, which they would use for mashing with, and
would politely toss the ones I had brought to the hogs.
My ineptitude in the kitchen was notorious. After the year of the
dessert fiasco, in which my responsibility for sweet baked goods
had resulted in the entire family piling into the van for a
journey to Marie Callender's, it was decided that in order to
prevent suffering to sentient beings, I was to be charged with
nothing more than to bring the mashed potatoes, which surely it
was impossible to foul up completely.
The next year, after that thesis had been soundly discounted, I
was charged with simply boiling the potatoes, so that I might
have some sort of sense of accomplishment in contributing to the
potluck, leaving those more adept at kitchenly things to attend
to the actual preparation of the final product.
It was only once a year that I ever made it to Elaine's Mom's
house, so as I was following my daughter, trudging through the
dark passageways, (for some reason she never bothered to flip on
light switches) I wasn't sure at all what to expect to find, up
another flight of stairs, down a hallway, and finally to a hatch
in the ceiling.
Lily turned to me brightly. "The attic," she explained.
"I see," I replied.
"Daddy, can you..." the rope was too high for her tiny fingers to
touch as she jumped up, so I reached out to pull down the trap
door, which opened out the telescoping ladder that pivoted down.
Lily eagerly pulled on the bottom rung until it was fully
extended.
"Watch your fingers, darling," I fussed with unnecessary fatherly
concern, but it had already been done, and Lily was halfway up to
the rafters, her bottom at my face-level, her darkskinned friend
Rita following close behind.
"Don't bump your head, Daddy," she giggled as she sat at the edge
of the rectangular opening above me, teasing me with her gaze.
"Ok darling, I think I can manage," I said, as I bumped my head
against the ceiling climbing the ladder, which triggered two sets
of giggles above me.
I lifted myself into the clean but musty room, senses taking in
the piles of antique items collecting dust all around, the sort
of chests and boxes and lamps and so on that accumulate in such
places. As I leaned forward to hoist myself up, I found my nose
less than in inch from the neat creases across the front of
Lily's skirt, and the scent of her sexuality invaded my nostrils
with barbed tendrils that jolted me into awareness that it had
been way too long since my last orgasm.
Calmly, compassionately, she looked down on me, and lifted her
eyebrow at the hardon bulging in my trousers.
Once I had succeeded in getting my legs up through the doorway,
she reached down again. "Daddy, look!" she smiled, pulling on
another lever. Apparently the ladder was spring-loaded, as it
collapsed on itself and the whole door sprang shut, locking us
in.
"Great," I said "so now how do we get down?" I asked, looking
around at the underside of the gables surrounding us. "Jump out
the window?"
"No, silly. You can open the door again." Lily turned to her
friend. "Now, you stand watch. If anyone is coming, you call out
`here comes the purple dinosaur!' real loud. Got it?"
"Ok," replied Rita, shyly smiling.
"Over here, daddy," continued Lily, making her way amid piles of
junk.
"Coming, dear," I said, crawling after her, following her heels
and buttocks through the maze.
Muffled voices came from downstairs, the periodic sound of
kitchen appliances or water running, sweet and spicy smells from
the oven and stove.
I crawled after her, as the space was not tall enough for me to
stand in, except possibly in the very center. After making our
way around a few corners of the labyrinth, we arrived at a
carpeted clearing window-lit by the sky.
She promptly turned around and laid on her back, legs in the air,
face up on the old faded Persian carpet, a once grand and plush
floor covering, still dignified with softness even after its day
in the sun, elegant patterns leading they eye in intricate swirls
of mesmerising designs.
She flipped the plaid and lace dress-skirt up over her narrow
torso, and reached with a familiar gesture to curve the palm and
fingers of her tiny hand along the enormous round bulge in the
front of my pants, gently grasping and stroking.
"Oh baby," I whispered involuntarily. at the tingle of her touch,
"It's been too long."
"Daddy, I know. I can't have you embarrassing me by getting a
hard-on every time you look up my skirt. We're going to take care
of this right now so you can get through the evening without
exploding."
My face flushed with shock. "Right here? Are you crazy?"
"Everything will be fine, daddy. Rita will let us know if anyone
is coming. Besides, they're all busy in the kitchen."
It was true. And I didn't feel like raising any objection.
She reached out with her other hand, and with skillful efficiency
unfastened my trousers, and with a knowing yank pulled them down
to release my manhood spilling out towards her. Gently she
touched the trembling unbearably stiff shaft with three fingers
to stabilize it as she gave a small, moist kiss with her warm
lips just below the opening.
She released the waistband of her fancy white dress hose from
around the bend of her buttocks, gazing up at me with intent blue
eyes as she pulled them down just far enough to reveal the bare
gentle folds of pink skin between her legs.
"Oh baby," I whispered.
"Daddy, I love you," she whispered back, unblinking eyes beneath
the perfectly combed strands of blonde hair gathered neatly into
the crisply folded plaid headband, matching her dress in colors
of passionate deep red and black and dark green, as I closed in
on her upturned rump, steel shaft determinedly headed of its own
volition towards the forbidden crevice.
Her leggings were around her ankles now, and I closed in,
marveling at the amazing pliability of her rubbery limbs.
Soft tips of her fingers reached out to guide me, eyes still
fastened on mine with unblinking steely gaze under thick
eyebrows, full lips moist with desire.
With electric arcs of longing, I felt the hot and soft dripping
moistness around my tip, tightly at first, then gradually
loosening up as I gently thrust deeper and deeper.
She kissed me, and now my passion blazed into full flame of
desire for my beautiful girl, the love and longing for her
loveliness curling like the mysterious shadows of her features,
as the circuit closed, from lips and tongue through our bodies to
lips and spear below, and the rhythm deepened as she opened up
and I was able to plunge further and further inside her crimson
caress of my longing, blood pounding in my ears and vessels of
yearning.
Quietly she let out whispered moans and gasps, her skin rosy pink
and smiling as she watched the facial expression of my climax
building, reaching out to gently caress my cheek as it came
closer and closer, until I felt the moment arrive and thrust like
a curved dagger deep inside of her as we both felt each huge
molten fiery drop blissfully release into her depths. Drop, drop,
drop, drop, drop, drop drop, my sweet sticky seed spewed
somewhere deep inside of her, and she smiled to see my tension
fall away, then reached with her tongue to press into my lips
with a long passionate tender kiss.
____________________________________________________________
Later, Elaine would ask, with her infuriatingly knowing smile,
"Did you see what Lily wanted to show you up in the attic?"
"Um, yes," I would stutter.
"It's a secret, Daddy. Remember?"
"Of course darling, whatever you say."
And what a fine feast we all enjoyed that day.
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