I could actually justify my actions by blaming my wife. I know, deep down inside it's something that I would have done or at least dreamed of doing, but it is definitely easier to blame my wife. Moreover, somewhat fun, too. My wife had, over the years, become a 'born again' Christian, and then very steadily fell into what I would call a 'Jesus Freak'. It's not that I have anything against Christianity, I just think that one can find a place in one's own heart and home to worship...not five days a week and twice on Sundays and Wednesdays down at the Frysburg Pentecostal Church. I do not know how or why it happened, it just did. I guess some people are just wired for the need to belong to a flock of sheep. Anyway, this is getting me off the subject of blaming my wife, and that is where the real fun starts.

Rachel, my wife, started becoming increasingly concerned about our daughter, Sarah. Ever since she turned sixteen and got her drivers license, she had been spending less time going to church with my wife and more time with her friends. Rachel felt that this was an omen for the end of times to commence or some such nonsense. She started thinking that Sarah's friends were leading her down the dark path to damnation and she felt helpless to do anything but pray for guidance. Rachel cried to me about this on so many nights that I promised her that I'd find out if Sarah was doing anything immoral, something that would send her on the Hell Express, first class.

Now, of course, I remember what I was doing at sixteen. I was fucking girls like Sarah. I mean, I know she is my own daughter, but it's a right temptation having something that good looking walking around in teeny PJs, sexy nighties or bikinis. I mean, she's my own flesh and blood, but damn, it's some awful nice flesh. So, on the face of things, I was saving our daughter from the lake of fire, but on the other hand, it gave me a legitimate reason to snoop around in her stuff. One day, conditions were prime for snooping. I was off from work early, Sarah was at an after school art class, my younger boys were at soccer practice and Rachel was, of course, at a church meeting,. I swear she's spent more time on her knees in front of the Lord then she has in front of me...kind of pathetic to get jealous over a deity, but damn. Anyway, everyone was gone, so I seized the opportunity to protect my daughter from the wiles of this wicked world by checking through her room. I started with her underwear drawer.

O.K. here is a little piece of knowledge that I can pass on to any females that happens to read this harrowing tale. Do not hide shit in your underwear drawer! Most women seem to think that this is some hallowed ground that no man would dare to tread, when in reality, it is probably the first place we will look. Not to actually find anything, it's just because we're sick fuckers and that's what we do. We look at them and imagine that sweet ass and the tight pussy that this little piece of fabric is keeping us from, maybe even taking a little whiff to try and catch a scent of feminine allure. Some might even try them on, although this is far beyond the perversions I find appealing, but whatever bakes your biscuits. If you women want to hide something, hide it in the fucking Tampon box. I can assure you, I'd never look there.

So, as I'm rummaging through Sarah's highly erotic underwear drawer, what do I find but her diary. My dick started twitching as soon as I touched the cover, thinking about all the gritty little secrets that could be held inside. Her first kiss, giving her first hand-job or even blow-job. It probably even had some secrets about her girlfriends, and Sarah had some hot, nubile little girlfriends. They spend the night about every other weekend, and I swear that they wear the skimpiest things on purpose, just to drive me over the edge. Of course, my dick was on lockdown because on the weekends, my wife prepares for her Bible studies and her Sunday school lessons, which means that my evil serpent could not tempt her. So it was just me with half a hard on, well, to be honest, a raging hard on, as I lie down in bed listening to the tittering of several young girls downstairs, telling each other their deepest secrets, maybe even comparing their developing bodies. It was absolute torture! Statutory rape! There should be laws against girls dressing and acting and tempting and...I mean I could have blown a head gasket or had a coronary with how excited they would get me sometimes. I can't even contemplate the pool parties. Wet camel toes and nipples that would poke your eyes out!

Sidetracked again. Anyway, I knew I had a few good hours to peruse through my daughter's secret treasure trove. I took the book downstairs to my den and checked out the lock. It was one of those cheese ball locks like they have on luggage. I had the book open in about a minute and even checked to make sure I could lock it again, which I could. I opened the book and was rather surprised by the amount of stuff in it. I mean it wasn't just a diary like I was used to seeing (yeah, I've been a nosy fucker all my life). It was like a scrapbook with clippings and ticket stubs and dried flowers and photographs. A picture fell out from between the second pages and my cock nearly jumped out of my shorts. It was Sarah's friend Jen completely and unequivocally butt ass naked. Not only naked, but naked on my daughter's bed. Her back was propped against the wall, her hands on the bed, pushing her ass up in the air to show off her sweet, tight, shaven pussy. My heart was absolutely trip hammering in my chest as I unconsciously stroked my rigid cock through my shorts. There was a note, like the kind you tie on to flowers. It said, and I quote, "Dear Sarah: I'm kind of confused not knowing what you're feeling. I'll take the risk by telling you that last weekend was the most awesome sex I have ever had! I want to taste your pussy again...and again! Jen". It all fell together then. Sometimes I can be dense, but I hadn't added two and two together. The picture is in my daughter's diary, it was taken on Sarah's bed and Sarah must have taken it. I had to pull my throbbing cock from out of my shorts before it broke. I started stroking it furiously while I looked at this little teen's teensy shaved pussy and imagined my daughter tongue fucking her deeply, bringing her to her first orgasm. Then I couldn't help but imagine my daughter nude as well, her athletic thighs wrapped around Jen's neck forcing her to lick her pussy harder. Without warning, I shot an immense load of cum at least three feet into he air, and of course, most of it landed on the cover of my daughter's diary. Hurriedly, I dropped the picture to the ground so I wouldn't ruin it as well, but I didn't miss a stroke. I came even harder with the second blast because a thought had streaked through my mind; I was cumming on my daughter's diary, but oh, how I wish it was my daughter herself.

After I completed my imitation of Old Faithful, I quickly cleaned all evidence of my eruption. It was like I was a teenager again. I was frantically checking the clock and nearly jumped out of my skin when the phone rang. Guiltily, I picked up the phone, like it was the Pope calling to let me know he knew I had spilled my seed upon the ground. It was Mrs. Lever whose boys played soccer with my boys. She asked if it was alright if Sam and Seth came over to their house for dinner. I told her anybody who was willing to feed my children saved me the trouble of trying to remember Pizza Hut's phone number. She laughed and said she'd have them back by eight or eight thirty at the latest. She probably wouldn't have laughed if she saw that I was standing there with a semi-hard cock hanging out of the leg of my shorts, dripping cum down my thigh. We exchanged our good-byes and I went back to assessing the damage I had done with an inward smile. With the boys not getting home until eight or so, that meant I had the house to myself for at least four hours. Another thought came on the heels of that one; Sarah would be the first one home. I actually became nervous because I wasn't sure exactly how I would react to her. Would I just see her the same way as I always did? No, I didn't think that was possible. I just did not think that I could get the picture of her friend Jen lapping at my daughter's sopping wet pussy long enough to get out a decent hello. God, just that little thought got me hard all over again!

I went back to the task at hand, rummaging through the diary. I handled it like it was the Dead Sea Scrolls. I carefully noted where everything was, what little notes and tidbits went between what pages, what photos were placed where and in what order. This thing was like the Rosetta stone of my daughter's sex life! I mean almost every page had some type of sexual escapade either her or one of her friends had had, and in Technicolor descriptions. The pages that Jen's picture and note had fallen out of described the night they had licked each others...can't get sidetracked again...the image is too delectable. Here, this is what she wrote about it.

While I read this, I was beating my meat like it owed me money. I kept having to stop myself from shooting cum everywhere four or five times while I read about Jen's little shaved cunt and my daughter getting her pussy fisted and them lapping up each other's juices. Jesus! Shit like this would make Richard Simmons go straight. As I was going to re-read some of the more colorful parts so that I could cum in relative comfort, I noticed this little envelope flap glued to the page. If you think that diary entry was hot, check this out! Two pictures of my daughter, one of them clothed, yet still sluttish, the other a completely nude picture of her showing off her perfect pussy and those firm tits...and that look in her eyes! Like she wanted to get fucked right then and there. It looks like she was at a motel or something, probably with her punk wanna-be boyfriend, Josh. What a fucking cheesedick this kid is. My eyes absolutely devoured these pictures. I had them so close to my face I was almost on the other side of them. I studied them like the Zapruder film, looking at every inch of Sarah's perfectly formed, yet forbidden, flesh. Pre-cum was just dripping out of the head of my cock onto my leg just looking at my daughter's naked cunt. I stood up, arranged the pictures of my daughter and Jen's photo on the desk, and turned my dick the other way so that I would not accidentally ruin a Kodak moment. With the descriptions of the girls licking each other's pussies and drinking each other's nectar running through my mind and the images of these teenage temptresses staring up at me from the desk, it didn't take long for me to have cum streaming from my cock onto the carpeting again. As I came, I gazed deeply at the one where my Sarah was clothed and had that come hither stare and imagined myself on the other end of the camera, soon to be balls deep in my daughter's pliant pussy. After the last drop of cum was squeezed from my shaft, I commenced to take inventory. I had maybe only an hour or so before Sarah got home. I couldn't believe it had gotten so late so quickly, but time flies! I needed to clean up my office somewhat and desperately needed to clean myself up for sure because I did not want to wait till the last minute to do so. Being busted jacking off on your daughter's diary is an exceptionally undignified way to go to divorce court. First thing's first though. I pulled up my shorts and proceeded to scan today's treasures into my computer. I needn't have to worry about prying eyes on my computer, because I was the only one that had access to it in my locked office, but even so, I know how boys are, mine, doubly so. My occupation, as it were, was that I ran a government contract agency ('nuff said about that!) and I have all the cool computer accoutrements. Encrypted password protect, a military eraser that passes over files with random gibberish thirty-five times, and a file protection system that fragments the files into irretrievable, little bits of 0's and 1's unless you have the proper password. I even have a fingerprint ID to turn the damn thing on. So I felt quite confident that my little secret file would remain a secret. After I scanned the photos and the lesbian story from the diary in, I replaced everything exactly in the manner that I found it and checked around the room for any signs of guilt. The desk was wiped clean, the diary back in it's original state and my cum was drying nicely on the carpet (Berber is a damn fine carpet!). Now I just had to replace everything, take a shower and then pretend I don't know what my daughter's tightly trimmed slit looks like. Easy.