Skipper Licked Me, Daddy

Skipper Licked Me, Daddy


I pulled my F250 into the driveway, bounced up to the garage and slammed on the brakes. I threw open my door, then stopped, trying to calm my temper and organize my thoughts. Murder was illegal in Washington. “Slow down, don’t go in there mad,” I muttered to myself.

I hated getting calls on my cell phone when I’m in the woods, trying to put down an acre of timber before the owners get mad and parcel it off to somebody else. It really pisses me off when somebody cuts into my business like that. Especially when it’s Mrs. Jefferson, and especially when she’s telling me that a little geeky bastard named Phillip Marston, has been over here humping my daughter’s leg again. I told the little bastard not to come around when I’m gone. I thought I’d made it clear to him. Apparently not. I told him what a chainsaw can do to a 15-year-old shithead. Apparently he didn’t listen to that either. What’s next, showing him? Maybe I was leaning on the wrong shithead. He wouldn’t be over here unless Jill had encouraged him.

I stood with my back against my truck and looked around while thinking furiously. It was actually a very beautiful day. The afternoon sunlight lit the pines around me like an old photograph. A blackbird made its tinkling music from a tree overhead. A slight breeze moved the very tops of the trees, making them whisper in excitement. Somebody had a barbecue grill going somewhere and somebody else had recently mowed their lawn. The air was full of wonderful aromas. A dog barked down the street. It wasn’t mine. Despite Skipper’s upbeat name, he would bite before he barked. He could be a mean little son of a bitch. Where was that little fur ball? He should have come out to meet me.

I took off my gloves and slammed them down into the bed of my truck. I bent down and dusted off my jeans, then shook sawdust out of my cuffs. Out of the corner of my eye I peeked at Mrs. Jefferson’s house. The old bat was peeking through her curtains. What, she didn’t think I could see her in broad daylight?

I stood, put my finger to my nose and blew. I couldn’t hear her scream of disgust, but she disappeared instantly. With a slight smile I headed into the house, feeling a little better.

It was hard, raising a daughter alone. To all the diehards out there I will tell you, get your wife insured. You are not greedy, you are not morbid, and you are not ready to raise a family alone, believe me. You’ll find yourself in a hole you can’t dig yourself out of. That’s why I spent most of my time away. I was good at what I did, but I was doing far too much of it. It left my daughter alone most of the time. I loved the sneaky little bitch, but she’s too much like me. She will fuck anything that walks and put a notch on her bedpost when she’s done. But you’ve got to love your kids, no matter how they turn out. I could have done worse.

“Jill!” I yelled as I entered the front door. The TV was on. There was a smell of popcorn in the air and some other foul odor. I followed the stink into the kitchen. The coffee pot had boiled down to a thick tar. What used to be coffee that morning, was rank as hell now. I flipped off the switch and ran water into the pot.

“Jill?” I called before washing my face and arms in the sink. She must be out. There was no answer. Good, I was alone. I could take a nap before we argued about who was going to make dinner. Time for a shower. I needed to get the smell of gasoline and pine sawdust off my body. I left my mud-covered boots at the front door and plodded up the stairs. Suddenly my ears perked up.

“Uh, uh, ah, uh.”

My bathroom usually didn’t make those noises. I had a feeling I would need that chainsaw real soon. It was time to cut down a Phillip. I tested the door and my eyes widened in surprise when I found it unlocked. They weren’t expecting me? I turned the knob and threw it open.

I had found my daughter and my dog. My daughter was sitting on the toilet with her legs wide open, and my dog was between them licking the hell out of her. You wouldn’t believe the look of horror which crossed her face.

“Skipper licked me, daddy,” she said meekly. I thought it was a bit of an understatement.

“Yes, I can see that,” I said in a calm voice. But my eyes were taking it all in. Skipper never missed a lick, and my daughter was too terrified to stop him. She just sat holding her bare knees while Skipper went to town in that sweet, young pussy. When had she grown pubic hair? Probably about the same time she grew tits, which was four years ago? I realized two things immediately. My daughter was all grown up, and Skipper needed a bath. He loved rolling in the dirt out back.

“Give Skipper a bath when you’re done,” I said as I calmly closed the door. I went to my bedroom and fell on the bed. Well, what a turn of events. I had a feeling that I had just reached a turning point in my life, but I was too stunned to figure out why. I would later.

Then I discovered another thing. My cock was as hard as a rock. It was so hard it hurt and the hormones were really churning in my loins. So what now, jack off? Rape Mrs. Jefferson? Cruise Mercer street looking for a whore?

“I’m sorry, daddy,” Jill said as she entered the room. I nodded, looking at her in her blue flowered dress, now wet from Skipper’s bath.

“You put Skipper out back?”

“Yes daddy.”

God how she’d grown. She looked so much like her mother, it almost hurt. She looked at my dirty clothes, then her eyes widened as she saw my crotch. It had been almost half an hour and I was still throbbing. She turned half away with a smile.

“What’s so damn funny?” I pretended to be mad.

“This situation is so ridiculous, I don’t even know what to say,” she giggled. “You didn’t take it like I thought you would.”

“The Indians used dogs to cure all sorts of infections. They swore that a dog’s saliva could cure almost everything,” I said significantly.

“Like what?”

“Like venereal disease, yeast infections, gunshot wounds . . . ” I let my words trail off. “We are part Indian, you know?” I finished lamely. “You have any of those?”

“No daddy,” she smiled. Her eyes were still on my crotch. God how I wanted to touch her. As if reading my thoughts, she moved uncomfortably on the bed beside me and her skirt slid up. For the first time in my life I noticed how fucking incredible her legs were. Long, slender, perfectly formed and tanned. I’ve seen her in a bathing suit, in a bra and panties, and naked and drunk once. But I never made the connection between my daughter, and a woman. Now I was. I was making all sorts of connections. My daughter was a woman. She was an incredibly sexy woman. I could still remember her slender legs, open pussy, and that little tuft of brown pubic hair. How I envied Skipper.

“What are you thinking, daddy?” she asked in her best little girl voice.

“I’m thinking you are all grown up,” I sighed. “I’m thinking that I’m glad the little Phillip punk isn’t here, so I don’t have to kill him,” I paused, licking my lips, “and I’m wishing I could trade places with Skipper right now.” The addition of the last part surprised even me. Had I actually said that?

“Really?” she gave me a slight smile, looking at my crotch again. She wet those incredible lips and I almost died. Do women know how incredibly sexy their lips are? Of course they do. That’s why they spend millions of dollars each year to make them sexy.

“You have no idea how much,” I said quietly. “I’ve got to take a shower. You’d better get out unless you want to see an old man naked,” I fell into my old speech habits as I unbuttoned my shirt.

“I’ll make coffee,” she said, leaping from the bed and skipping out of the room. I had to admit, I was disappointed. I half expected . . . Maybe it was for the best. After all, who really fucked their own daughter? Hillbillies? People on the Jerry Springer show? Hell, I actually had an incestuous sticker on my truck. I bought it at a truck stop to piss off Mrs. Jefferson. It really does piss her off. She hides her eyes when she walks by. It was meant as a joke.

I washed brutally under the shower. I almost resorted to masturbating, but I had not done that since I was 15.