3 comments/ 83659 views/ 9 favorites Midnight Mass By: Phrenetic_Ice Church is no place to be thinking about sex, even less so incest, especially during the Christmas service, just four rows back from the altar, where the elderly Parish Priest is so fervently extolling the memory of the last supper. "Take this all of you and eat it. This is my body which will be given up for you." I SHOULD be contemplating the significance of the words, but I find myself glancing at my daughter's pretty face, the soft curve of those youthful breasts accentuated by her gentle breathing, as she kneels beside me, hands clasped together in erstwhile prayer. "Take this all of you and drink from it. This is the cup of my blood, the new and everlasting covenant." I find myself concentrating not on the Eucharistic prayer now, but rather, Lucy's slim hips and radiating vitality. As she turns momentarily to smile at me, some part of us touches and recognises the far-flung possibilities. Let us back-up a lifetime. Lucy and I have always been close -- more in what has been unsaid rather than spoken aloud. She is a soul-mate. Even though she is eighteen now, the special bond we shared during her childhood has not slackened. Rather, it has evolved into something almost tangible. An only child, she was but three years old when my wife died. Her very existence eased the pain of Nadia's passing and provided the focus I needed to overcome my grief. In a decade and a half not a solitary impure thought has crossed my mind so far as Lucy is concerned. But then there was tonight. Just an hour before we had to be at Our lady of The Rosary I picked Lucy up from a girlfriend's place where she had spent Christmas Eve, quite evidently quaffing the occasional alcoholic beverage. I say "quite obviously" on account of the fact she was still giggly and overly talkative. -- traits she rarely exhibits. It was as she sat in the car chatting animatedly that I realised how much I loved her and how much -- to my on-going discredit -- I wanted her in ways other than those might be termed appropriate. "I love you dad," She had said, reaching across and holding my hand. In that instant, our destinies overlapped. Even as the Priest intones the words, "Father, calling to mind the death your son endured for our salvation....." the images begin to form. Lucy stands at the foot of her bed seemingly unfazed by my close proximity. Removing her school back-pack she tosses it on the covers. I notice her tanned arms and legs as she turns her back to me momentarily, retrieving a purse from the pocket of her school-dress, that she then places on her work-desk nearby. I cannot fail to notice either the soft curves of her shapely bottom that are so clearly delineated for an instant. I seat myself on the edge of the bed and place my hand just above her hips. She still has her back to me even as I begin to smooth over those gentle rearward curves. She knows instinctively what pleases me and takes a step backwards so that I may better feel-up my field of dreams. "You are so beautiful Lucy," I mutter, sliding both hands now across her taut little rear and cupping both cheeks, feeling plainly her panties beneath the school-dress. Holding her around the hips I tug that warm little body towards me until she is sitting on my lap. Slipping my arms around her waist, my hands wander northwards searching out the illicit warmth of her teenage breasts. She makes no move to stop me, simply gasping softly as I begin to fondle those delicate mounds. I know she is watching as I begin undoing the top few buttons of her dress. "Grant that we who are nourished by his body and blood...:" The image fades and once again I glance down at the sweet-smelling youthful form alongside me. I must suppress these thoughts at all cost. "....the apostles, the martyrs and all your saints upon whose constant intercession we rely for help." My hand slips into the newly created air-space. I relish the contact with the frilly material, it represents the ultimate feminine tactility. Again the lightest of gasps as I cup her breasts through the yielding material, squeezing and caressing the softness beneath. Even as an embryonic moan rises in her throat, I incline my face to her shoulder and nuzzle her lovingly. Kissing her at the base of the neck, I feel her wriggle slightly on my lap, the warmth of her young body addling my senses. I slip a hand inside her bra cup and grasp what nature has been working so efficiently upon these last six years or so. "Oh dad," she whispers, bringing her own hands up to cover mine, wholly complicit yet fully in acceptance of my actions. It requires a minimum of sensory recognition to acknowledge a hardening of her nipples within their padded rayon creche. My desire is rising like the Spring tide. "and all the Bishops, with the clergy and the entire people your son has gathered here before you." I look down at the Missal between my hands. My thoughts betray me and aware of the offense I am causing in this hallowed place, I replace it in the rack before me. Again Lucy glances in my direction and smiles so sweetly I can feel the onset of tears of emotion. I try to concentrate on the liturgy. "Welcome into your kingdom our departed brothers and sisters and all who have left this world in your friendship....." Again my euchamenical surroundings fade as Lucy turns her pretty face towards me. Without hesitation I kiss her softly on the lips. I can see clearly now her exposed cleavage and the incestuous behavior of my hands as they roam freely the captive mountain range before me. I need to see that which I can feel. Beginning now to rub her nipple between thumb and forefinger her kisses wholeheartedly match my own for passion and intensity. Her small hand seeks out the other breast, idly caressing its focal point as together we inspire a mammarian celebration within the confines of those fleecy restraints. Undoing the buttons to her waist almost, Lucy's slimline bra is revealed in all its tempting simplicity. I kiss her passionately as she matches my ardor with her own. As I slip the bra straps down her arms, encouraged by the fact that she is making no move to halt my progress, she once more teases me to distraction by perceptibly thrusting her breasts forward as I tug the material lower, relieving both cups of their protective duty. We break off momentarily from our lip deliberations and look into each other's eyes. All understanding is there...no oratory required. Fully exposed now, her breasts stand out proudly, her nipples erect and in urgent need of a man's touch -- a father's touch! "Holy Holy Holy Lord, God of power and might." The obligatory words of the communal sanctus jolt me back to the real-time and I recite quietly, as does Lucy beside me, "Heaven and earth are full of your glory, Hosanna in the highest Blessed is he who comes in the name of the Lord Hosanna in the highest." Ahead of the Memorial Acclamation, the priest pauses at the altar. Resting her arms on my shoulder her expression betrays just the slightest trepidation. My lips address her concerns and as I begin to draw down on her right nipple I cannot miss the sharp intake of breath or soft cry of pleasure resulting from my grossly indecent treatment of her young body. The milky scent afflicts my nasal passages and I draw down instinctively, recalling a child's primitive intimacies and the long forgotten suckling urge. As might a mother, she holds my head firmly against her breast willing me to take the nourishment that only the female body can provide. Grasping her tightly around the waist I alternate my attentions between either nipple, suckling her and drawing sustenance, however imaginary, from her beautiful teats. I am aware of the soft moans that even now are escaping her lips. Pleasure begets pleasure however and discovering that my right hand has unintentionally I like to think, located the zipper at the side of her school-dress, I wonder just how far she is prepared to travel this night? "Dying you destroyed our death, rising you restored our life." The pew swims back into focus. Lucy still kneels beside me, frizzy hair trailing way off her shoulders - total innocence personified. So small, she barely comes up to my collar bone. I can barely comprehend her desirability, however illicit. Sensing perhaps my scrutiny, she turns to me, those blue eyes of her transfixing me in captured understanding. "What IS it dad?" she whispers. "Nothing sweetheart," I reply, "I just love you silly that's all." She seeks out my hand momentarily and squeezes it. "Through him, with him, and in him, in the unity of the Holy Spirit, all honor and glory is yours almighty Father, for ever and ever....amen!" The zipper may have afforded less than six inches by way of side entry, but it was enough. At the angle she is sitting on my lap -- almost side-saddle - just about any direction travelled has to bring my hand in close proximity to something seriously off-limits under normal circumstances. These however are anything but! Almost immediately my fingers make contact with the leg elastic of her panties. I feel her stiffen and murmur softly "No dad...not there ....you shouldn't!" "Interesting choice of words" I observe mentally. "Shouldn't" being way down the list from "can't" or "musn't." Inarguably I have not yet met with any physical resistance either. She lets out a small cry of surprise as my fingers encroach (admittedly topside) upon the skimpy panties themselves. How can I possibly convey the feelings I experience as I follow that curving road to the very brink of its angular descent between her thighs. Her sweet mouth is open slightly I notice and remains thus, as my finger follows that definitive indentation all the way down between her legs. I feel her part them slightly -- the heat from her thighs enveloping the inbound visitors. Using just my middle and index finger I begin to rub softly the front of the material. Fully unable to sit still, she begins to wriggle her hips in pleasured response. Now I figure is quite the best time to kiss her once more and in doing so, I confirm such strategy as being wise in the extreme. A small leap of faith admittedly but by slipping my fingers beneath those sexy little undies swiftly and without any advance notice, they find themselves on the instant, in a world of tropical delights. My tactile indulgencies deliver up the hitherto unknown fact that Lucy evidently trims her nether regions yet ensuring that sufficient of her girlish growth remains on hand to tease any intruder wishing to cross that final border. That there have been none until now, can never be in dispute. Slipping dexterously between her moist folds, I waste no time in locating her clitoral hood, whereupon I commence a teasing program all my own. Even as I feel her hand approach the playing fields -- perhaps to offer some token resistance, I step-up the friction and with her now audible moans reverberating around the bedroom, I bring her to the edge of a brave new world. Transported by these newly come-by experiences, she is unaware just how spread her legs have become. I avail myself of the opportunity and ease her dress up until her panties are fully exposed. So absorbed is Lucy in her escalating pleasures, her eyes are closed and she is likely unaware of her fully indecent aspect or the fact that her bare breasts are rising and falling in sync with her irregular breathing status. Her cleavage glistens with moisture as I bring her to a new plateau. Her body is trembling and those hips locked into the final countdown. The outcome is swift and decisive. As waves of pleasure engulf her small body, radiating outwards in direct proportion to her vaginal spasms, she cries aloud, "Ohhh unreal dad," clutching her pussy as she utters the words. As the vision cruelly disintegrates, I hear the Priest once more. "Let us pray to the Father in the words our saviour taught us." The congregation speak out as one, "Our Father, who art in Heaven, hallowe'd be thy name." I lay my daughter gently on the bed. Everything but her hot little rose-colored briefs appears to have been magically discarded. "Thy Kingdom come, thy will be done, on Earth as it is in Heaven." I am kneeling beside her. Grasping her panties I pull them down. She puts her arms up to me almost in supplication. She smiles as I part her legs. I stare lovingly rather than lustfully at her beautifully sculptured ingress. "Give us this day our daily bread," I manouever myself between her thighs, unembarrassed as is she, by my swollen erection. "And forgive us our trespasses as we forgive those who trespass against us." Placing the head at her vaginal entrance, I apply what pressure is necessary. She whispers "It's OK dad you're not hurting me," Even though I must be, she hands me such a loving smile I feel like crying. Perhaps tears of gratitude that God ever fashioned for me so beautiful and exquisite a daughter. "and lead us not into temptation, but deliver us from evil." Entering her, I am lost in a sea of emotion. She understands somehow and holds me to her, encouraging me to penetrate her yet deeper. "For the kingdom, the power and glory are yours..." Time has elapsed -- seconds? minutes? I have no way of knowing. Right then my discharge floods her internally. The beatific expression on her face assures me that all is well and that never shall I feel guilt over what I have done. "For ever and ever, Amen!" Midnight Matinee I went to bed and she was the last thing on my mind. In fact she had been all that had been on my mind since I sat down in the Cherry Room; a dive bar for down and outers who can only afford to perv on girls who charge a dollar a dance and five for a private. I stayed only for one dance as I needed my other three for a scotch and soda. I reluctantly sat down at the bar and slid my three dollars over and received no change. My only other solitary note lay crumpled in my pocket and I knew it wouldn't be long before I handed that over too. Over to some poor harlot trying to make ends meet, same as me. Only she has a pair of tits for men to grope and for an extra four they'd have the chance to suck on them as she'd yank at their bits until they gave her a tip and left with it joining the other stains on her dirty blouse. I sat with my scotch and soda and shut the fuck up and waited for some pussy to shake it for my dollar. Her name was April May. I didn't know if that was her real name but I could hazard a guess. She looked like an Amanda or a Jane – a small time girl who had moved to the city and for whom it had all gone horribly wrong. This was the American Dream in action. The spot hit the stage and I turned to face it so I'd get my full dollars' worth. An old guy by the stage announced her name over the tannoy, though if he would have spoken it everyone in the bar would have heard it was that dead in there. Cheap, kitch burlesque music that seemed to come from an 80s ghetto blaster filtered into the room as unwelcome as the closing time bell meagrely played out as her soundtrack. I sat with my scotch and water and a pitiful erection as I looked into the light fantastic. She sauntered onto the stage in an unconfident wobble as her heels rode inches too high for her frame. Her calves were far from lean or muscular but the heels gave them sufficient tone as the harsh lighting spread the shadow of her legs long across the stage behind her. Her skirt was short but she had the presence of mind to wear one all the same which wiggled and shimmied as she threw her hips about. Her stomach was rippled and a spare tyre moved around ungracefully, but her breasts were only loosely pushed up and joyously moved and danced around with her. Her arms were long and accentuated by the lighting, with her fingertips splayed out in the light, reaching high and far as if to claw out of this nightmare. Her face was shadowed but I knew it was her. It was no accident, no mistake. I could almost make out the tears as they fell and glistened against the rays that kept her in the spotlight. Her eyes dull and lifeless and looked out but saw no audience, no future, no past. If I looked on for a decade I'd see no sign of life. I didn't look for her; I looked at her tits which was the only redeeming thing about her and only mildly so at that. When the music stopped I sat back at the bar and finished up my drink before the next girl came on. I heard the clicking of cheap heels edge near me and the sounds of dimes and quarters being dropped into an empty can. I finished up the dregs of ice in my glass and pulled myself from my chair and as I did I was met face to face with her: April May. She was young; too young to be in here, too young for these bastards and motherfuckers to be festering on her, too young and too pure to have her head sunk in this river of shit. Her eyes shone vacancy, I could see no life there, I tried as I stumbled and fell into them as a means to save myself from my own ends. I placed my crumpled dollar in her can and she moved on. I turned to face her but she was gone, and I was forgotten. I looked her up and down and smelt for a scent of her which was not forthcoming. Any smell I would have greeted: her rancid perfume, the vile stench of her cunt or her dogged breath. But nothing. I dug my hands deep in my pockets and walked out of there back out into the cold night air and blew a fog from my breath as I paced away from there with the blood dripping from my hands. I lay awake and alone on my bed in my run down room which I over paid for with cockroaches for company and overpaid bills piling up on the table. I looked up to the cracked ceiling which seemed to come down low to touch the tip of my nose. The dripping of the tap from the sink echoed out and filled the room with a deafening blow like Hiroshima as it hit the limescale white steel of the sink. It mattered not. I looked up and saw only her, heard only the distant muffle of her eyes and how they would only cry out to me, if only they knew what I knew. I drifted off, or maybe I didn't. Either way I was comatose from her. April May. My mind wondered, meandered through the cracks in the ceiling and my hands nestled beneath the lumpy pillow that propped up my head. Something caught my eye as a gust of wind slammed the window pains and sent shudders through the rickety glass panels. I looked over and saw nothing but a wave from the curtain from the backdraft of the wind. I lowered my head and caught a glimpse of her, sitting on my sole wooden chair. She was facing me and sat with her legs uncrossed and her arms by her side, looking at me with no expectancy or urgency; but the opposite, content to watch me in my stirrings in the stillness of the night. Her face was in the shadows but I knew that it was her. Her expressionless face showed no emotion and gave me no sign of life and I had nothing for her in return. A moment lingered, shared amongst strangers uncomfortable in each other's presence. She leaned forward and kept her placid motion going and stood gently, delicately by the light of the fractured moonlight. Her eyes locked with mine but she looked upon me not at me. It was all she could muster and I forgave it for her sins. She stepped lightly towards the bed and stopped before me, her sad face illuminated to me for the first time. She had been pretty once no doubt, in a small town, mid-western kind of way. But not here in the city. Not now. Not here. I followed her arms as they pulled down her high riding dress which revealed no knickers and her sex like a crooked, quivering smile. I followed her hands as they freed her stomach from her top which ruffled her hair as it lifted above her head. Her bra, cheap and dull in colour hid her meagre breasts within. Her fingers fiddling with the strap behind her and released them as it snapped apart and freed them as they fell before me with no pride or dignity. She looked down on them with a screaming self-consciousness, as if in repulsion to the pathetic sight below her as she looked down to the floor. My angel, my sweet sweet broken angel. Bruised and broken before me she stood, in all her mercy and gentleness, so tentatively come for me, for my sins, and how to wash them all away. She knelt on the bed before me and her legs fell outside of mine and stood before me. She pulled down my briefs past my knees and ankles and left me naked, stranded and vulnerable before her. I had nowhere to hide. Nowhere to run. My towering erection rose between us and made no attempts at shame as it pulsed and throbbed for her, a mound of sticky rewards already glistening in the evening light. She leant forward and grabbed it with her right hand, taking it between the fingers and accommodating it as she rubbed it gently from the base until it vanished from her hand and down again in slow, concentric movements. She moaned awkwardly as her eyes recoiled and her head arched back, revealing the full view of her chest and her average breasts as they swayed with no unison to her rhythm. I looked down at her gaping snatch as it longed to be touched by love, longed to feel the touch of a gentle caress, but instead only enduring the fucking of strangers who accommodated no feeling nor pleasure for her pussy, that her pussy did not reciprocate. Her strokes became more enraptured and this in turn was highlighted by her movements of enraptured revelry. I felt the overpowering urge to take a kiss from her lips and helped myself with no asking – grabbing a handful of her hair and bringing her mouth on top of mine and forced my tongue into her mouth, tasting the vile, stale taste of a hundred other men's cum fresh on her breath. I felt nauseated by the taste and the smell made me gag as I threw her head back. She moved down over my chest and took me in her mouth, sucking me frantically, working me with her hands as she went. I fought to get her off me, but my dick was sunk deep within her mouth with no sign of relenting. She had me right where she wanted me. I was building ready to blow and her mouth poised to take my greed in a moment of shared lust and bodily connection. I grabbed at her hair and yanked at it but only succeeded in ripping out a handful of died roots and split ends. I was beyond help and in no position to share this moment with her, in a final act of contrition I threw us over and we spilled in a heap on top of each other, only with me assuming the position. She struggled desperately beneath me as she fought off another act of degradation. I pinned her down by her throat and showed little concern over her as she scratched at my chest for air. My free hand grabbed her wrist and bent back her arm viscously as it snapped like a twig under a car wheel as I released my poison over her face as she gasped for life. I shook as I spasmed and erupted and woke with a start, my head lifting up off the pillow as I emptied myself over my sheets. I looked about me, I saw nothing but the sweat and cum soaked sheets around me. I looked to the chair and nothing but some loose change and keys. I collapsed my head back on my pillow and looked up again at the ceiling and thought of her. April May. Saviour of my soul.