Authors note: This story is my submission for the ‘Literotica Annual National Nude Day’ contest. It’s a little different from my usual one-shot stuff, but I hope you enjoy it anyway.
Also, a little warning, but the main character suffers from a little social anxiety, and feels a lot of anguish over his feelings, often expressing self-hate and lots of self-doubt. I know that a lot of people really hate that kind of stuff, so just a warning to skip this if you aren’t into that.
Do clothes really make that much of a difference?
The thought comes reflexively as I observe the brunette dancing in front of me.
She’s wearing a skimpy spaghetti strap top and a matching pair of short pajama pants, and listening to music through a pair of air-buds, and swaying carelessly to the beat of some stupid pop song that she’d admit was pretty dumb, but say that it’s catchy, and puts her in a good mood.
In the mood to dance, apparently, as she dances in that carefree way, oblivious to my probing gaze…
My eyes flicker to her hips, and my tongue dances behind my lips to the rhythm of their subtle sway, and in that moment, memory and reality merge into one.
A naked thigh; deliciously curved. Silky, creamy skin; flawlessly smooth. And that flushed look that bodies seemed to only have when lain bare for one’s appraisal. She was standing at the kitchen sink, washing up some dishes; nothing odd about that in itself, except she was completely naked.
I call out to her; my own voice shaky, caught in my throat.
Choked up, really.
But no response.
Then she looks back over her shoulder, and I see that glazed over look in her eyes.
She’s sleepwalking, I thought.
Then reality comes back, and I study the little pajama bottoms, and the cotton strap top that the she’s wearing, and the thought comes to me again.
Do clothes really make that much of a difference?
Those same creamy thighs spill out of those shorts that barely cover anything, and the shape of her hips, that smooth expanse of stomach that leads all the way to those small, perky breasts.
The shape of her collarbone, and that kissable neck.
I can see them clearly; every shape, every contour; all the same.
Yet it is the naked form that caused me to stir darkly, and respond in that way that no man ever should to his own flesh and blood.
The word stings, like a rebuttal to my involuntary arousal.
“What’re you doing?” she asks.
Her question shakes me from my reverie, and I catch myself with a dumbstruck expression plastered on my face.
Words utterly fail me, but she seems oblivious to my malfunction.
“Well, don’t just stand there. Come dance with me!”
I recoil instinctively as she approaches.
“No, I’m fine. I was just-“
I topple over, and fall to the ground as I stumble backwards away from her, and she quickly moves to help me up.
“Jeez, you’re such a klutz! How do you get through a day without ending up in the emergency ward?” she chides me, and I laugh nervously, rubbing the back of my head, but she’s not done-
“Dance with me!” she says again, and as she pulls me over to her room and begins to hum the tune that she’s dancing to, I try for a moment to move as she does, before shaking my head, and backing away.
Careless, rhythmic movements like that never came naturally to me, and she puts her hands on her hips, and shakes her head at me.
“Just- let yourself go. Feel the moment!” she says, and I shake my head.
“I’m just no good at it, Beck.”
“That’s because you’re not trying. You know, just because mom thinks you’re a loser, doesn’t mean you have to be one.”
But I am…
In every sense of the word.
Her words are teasing, and I know she means nothing by it, but that feeling hits me nonetheless.
I smile to let her know that it’s fine, and she smiles back, but as I head out of the room, I wonder if her smile is anything like mine.
It doesn’t matter anyway; I just need to get away, and then everything will be fine.
I make a beeline for the phone in my bedroom, then open whatsapp to look through the contacts for the one that says ‘Bell (ex-wife)’.
Hey. I don’t think this is working out.
I hit send, then wait for the blue ticks.
An angry face emoji comes up almost immediately in response.
We’ve been divorced for five years now. Are you only just realizing, or…?
I meant with Beck…
‘Bell (ex-wife) is typing’ comes up, but as I wait for the message, it doesn’t come, and only after the notice appears a few more times does a message finally come through.
Well, maybe you should have thought of that before you put your dick inside of me.
Blunt, to the point, and bitter as always.
I guess Bell hadn’t changed at all.
I decide to try a different approach.
I thought she grew out of the sleep-walking?
I hit send, bursa eskort bayan then wait for the reply, but this one doesn’t take as long, and is much more civil.
She did. Did it happen?
Four more angry-face emojis, followed by one which seems to have a censored swearword coming out of his mouth.
There was an emoji for everything these days, huh?
She sleepwalks, and that’s it? You lose your fucking balls? Why is it so hard for you to just MAN THE FUCK UP AND ACCEPT RESPONSIBILITY FOR THE DAUGHTER YOU HELPED BRING INTO THIS WORLD?
As I read the messages, I’m thankful that I decided to have this conversation over text, rather than hear her scream at me, even over the phone.
I’ll pay for whatever she wants to do. You know that. I’ll pay to take care of anything that she does…
I hit send, but the series of replies come before my finger can even leave the screen.
ITS NOT ABOUT MONEY, CUNTFACE!
She doesn’t want money.
She wants her father.
Though, God alone knows why.
I slump down onto the bed, running my finger carelessly across the edges of the mobile device.
I’m trying to think of how to convey my problem at hand to this woman, when another message comes to me.
Is this really just about sleepwalking?
No, I reply, but the fleeting hope is extinguished with the next message.
Then, explain. Because I need a really good reason to cut short the only vacation I’ve had since leaving your dumb ass. I needed this, Finn. Steve and I needed this…
I sigh, as I send the reply.
A few more seconds, before the response comes to me:
Well, I can’t help you with something that you can’t tell me about. As for the sleepwalking, just lead her back to bed. It’s easy. And you probably still wake all night anyway, right?
“Right…” I say, as I throw the phone onto the bed, and turn, burying my head into a pillow.
I shut my mind off, trying to forget that the world exists, and for a little while, it works, as I drift off to sleep.
I woke up to the sound of a door slamming shut.
Was that the front door?
And what time was it?
I retrieved my phone, and winced as the overly bright light shone into my face.
A little after two…
Did that mean it was happening again?
I suppressed a groan, as I looked at the door to my room.
Maybe I could just stay here?
Pretend she isn’t doing anything, and just let her find her own way back to bed?
This one was louder, and it didn’t sound like a door, but like something falling…
What if that was Beck?
I panic and dart for the door, quickly heading downstairs.
I see a figure moving in the dark, and I swallow uncomfortably as I follow the movement with my eyes.
Please have clothes on, I thought.
But my prayer goes unanswered, as she turns and moves across the room, the dim orange illumination of the streetlight sneaking in through the window momentarily illuminating those perfect little breasts.
Despite myself, I already feel my part stirring, and I feel like slapping myself in the face in frustration.
Get ahold of yourself! I thought.
Just do it! Lead her back to bed, and be done with it!
I moved in quickly, but in my haste, I stumbled on the way, and as I flailed out my hand made contact with something warm, and soft, and I yelped in surprise, as my palm is face up against a breast.
I froze, and she did too, but as my heart raced in my chest, the thumping echoing across the dark room, she turned, and went back to… whatever it is she was doing.
“Shwere is ich…” she mumbled, the words almost indecipherable, but as she reached down to the floor, I finally saw the object of her nighttime excursion.
What is that, though?
A cardboard box?
There were no boxes down here, I thought, and as she tried to pick it up, it slipped out of her uncoordinated hands, falling down with another ‘thump’… but that was no longer where my mind was, as my eyes zoomed in on the swell of her ass, the shapely figure of her hips… all bared, and completely in the buff.
Why did she have to bend like that?
In the darkness of the room, I could only see the silhouette, but that was more than enough to score a critical hit on the stirring in my pants.
“Beck,” I tried again, but I knew she couldn’t hear me.
The only thing loud enough for her to hear would be something that could wake her up from deep sleep, and if she woke up like that, she might fall down and hurt herself… and I definitely didn’t want her to wake up naked like that in front of me.
Would it be bursa otele gelen eskort bayan as big a deal to her as it was to me, though?
I mean, I knew full well that most parents were probably used to seeing their kids naked…
But maybe those parents didn’t have a daughter like Beck…
Those sleek curves. That toned, tanned stomach.
That perfect bone structure that held together a flawless frame.
What I wouldn’t give for a taste… a touch… a-
Stop that, you fucking asshole.
She’s your daughter, now get her back to bed before she hurts herself!
Before… you hurt her.
I swallowed, and worked up the nerve to touch her again, but as my hand reached out for her shoulder…
Just her shoulder…
The shaking started, and I quickly withdrew.
Then I spotted the blanket on the couch, and I cursed myself for being a dumb fucking idiot.
I grabbed the thing and draped it across her shoulders, then guided her up.
“Come on, Beck,” I said, as I half-led, half-pushed her toward the stairs…
But as she tried to climb the first step, she stumbled, and I reached out instinctively as she fell forward, and once more, I felt that softness brush against my fingers as I tried to steady her.
I was panting, breathing like if I’d just ran a mile flat out.
“I can’t do this… I can’t do this.”
I felt distraught by my complete inability to control my impulses.
My sense of unease over something that everyone else seemed to have no trouble dealing with…
Beck tried to get up, but I held her back this time, and with the blanked draped over her, I sat on the staircase holding her, and as the feelings of shame and inadequacy washed over me, I began to sob.
I fucking hate myself…
As I sobbed, a voice finally came to me.
I wiped away the tears, and shook off my breakdown.
“Y-yes. It’s me,” I said stupidly.
I mean, obviously, who the fuck else would it be?
“Are you crying?”
She seemed worried, and quickly put a hand to my cheek, and I quickly looked away.
“I’m sorry, you fell. And I freaked out.”
“I’m fine. It’s okay, I’m fine!”
I nodded, but in her haste to show me that she wasn’t injured, the blanket slipped off, revealing that succulent naked breast to my sight.
And this time, the hallway light left no secrets to the shadows.
My gaze lingered, and I cursed every fiber of my being as Beck caught the look, and followed it.
“Oh fuck. I’m naked! Oh, I’m so sorry,” she began, but as she quickly tried to cover up her modesty with the blanket, I turned and bolted.
“Wha- dad! I said I was sorry!” she called, but as soon as I was in my room, I shut the door, then collapsed to the floor, wiping sweat away from my brow.
My erection was pressing agonizingly though my pants, and I grabbed the thing through the thin cotton material and squeezed it in frustration.
Why did you have to react like that to her?
I quickly went for my phone, and brought up my recent contacts.
You need to come get your daughter.
I hit send, but as I sat there, waiting for the blue ticks, they remained grey…
Well, obviously. It’s after two in the fucking morning!
“Dad? Are you mad at me?”
I shrinked away from the sound of her voice, and she knocked, then called again.
I held my breath, feeling stupid for hiding from my own daughter like that, while also praying to god that she would just leave.
I didn’t move, and after what felt like an eternity, I finally spotted the shadow under the door creep away, and I breathed a sigh of relief.
As I eventually looked at my phone, though, my heart sank just a little.
She stood there for fifteen minutes.
Regret didn’t even begin to describe what I felt, coupled with absolute shame, and I crawled over to my bed and collapsed in an exhausted heap, and before long, I was fast asleep.
Answer your phone!
The message was the first thing I saw on my phone screen as my eyes flickered awake, and I groaned as I caught the ‘seven missed calls from Bell (ex-wife)’ notification which appeared just underneath.
I thought about calling her, but Beck’s voice from the hallway caught my attention.
“Please, mom. I’m telling you. I didn’t do anything!”
She sounded frustrated, confused.
And I hated myself even more, because she knew by now that something was wrong, except she had no way of knowing what it was.
I let the door creak open, and Beck shot me a pleading look.
“It’s mom,” she mouthed at me. “Please, just tell her everything is okay.”
I nodded, taking the phone from her.
“Why weren’t you answering your phone, asshole!”
“I was sleeping,” I answered, stifling a yawn.
“You don’t send me a message like that then just fucking bursa eve gelen escort go to sleep! What the fuck is your malfunction?”
“Could you give us a sec?” I asked Beck, and she nodded, but only retreated as far as her room down the hall, and I pulled the door in.
“I’m sorry,” I began, and I withdrew the phone from my ear as she cursed at me again.
I heard the sound of her taking a deep breath in.
“Okay, Finn. Tell me; very carefully, and very clearly, exactly why you want me to come get Beck?”
“I just don’t think I can do this…”
I could hear her taking a deep breath in.
“Finn… you’ve been seeing her on weekends. She loves being at your place. What the hell is going on? Did you know that she’s been begging for this since she was sixteen? She misses you. Why are you suddenly ‘unable to do this’?”
“I don’t have a good answer, but Bell… I’m having a meltdown here.”
She could hear the fear in my voice, and I could hear her moving around, as she gave my words some thought.
“Finn, I’m gonna take you seriously here, but I need you to think about something. Very, very carefully. If you do this to Beck, she will never, ever forgive you, and you will lose her forever. Do you want that?”
I shook my head, then voiced my reply through the phone.
“Finn, are you talking to anyone? Friends, family?”
“I dunno… I guess, sometimes?”
“How long has it been?” she asked.
“How long? Since you last spoke to someone. Not me, or Beck, or that stupid agent…”
I thought about it for a while, then realized I really couldn’t remember.
I tried to figure what was a reasonable lie to tell, but Bell answered before I could get something straight.
“Call someone. Maybe you just need to talk, Finn.”
I shook my head, but words wouldn’t come out, and after about a minute of silence, I heard a timid knock at the door.
“Yeah, just a sec; Bell, I should probably-“
“Take care, Finn. And please try? For her sake?”
I nodded again, as I heard the little beep signaling that the call had ended.
“It’s open,” I called, and Beck peeked into the room.
I instinctively glanced at the phone in my hand, when Beck shot me a slightly panicked look before snatching the phone.
“Sorry, I thought it was mine-“
“It’s fine,” she said, waving away my apology, but the tense expression on her face seemed a little odd.
She studied me for a bit, rubbing her elbow nervously.
“Was I sleepwalking last night?” she finally asked, and I nodded.
“Yeah,” I answered, trying not to look her in the eye.
“I can stop. I promise. You don’t have to send me away. I-I’ll lock my doors when I go to sleep, or tie myself to the bed.”
I turned to study her, shaking my head.
“What, no. It’s fine, really,” I said, but she still had that fearful look, so I took a deep breath in. “Look, Beck… there’s something going on, but it’s got nothing to do with you. I’m just, going through some things, and it’s making me feel a little bit…”
I tried to find the right word, but nothing seemed to come to me, and Beck studied me, searching for some kind of explanation for everything.
“Things like what?”
“I don’t think we can talk about it,” I answered.
I rubbed my hands together, nervously.
“Because, its personal, and embarrassing.”
“Embarrassing? Dad, you can tell me literally anything. Please?”
“Not this,” I said, with an expression that told her that my decision was final.
She nodded, a sullen look on her face as she left the room.
My phone buzzed, and as I retrieved it, I saw a message from Bell.
Contact: Marie Kudlow.
What is that? I replied.
I knew that name… it sounded familiar, yet I couldn’t quite place it.
Therapist. She lives nearby. Doesn’t practice anymore, but she’ll talk to you if you need it, as personal favor for me.
Wait, it can’t be…
Bell, our marriage counsellor? Seriously?
She’s a therapist, Finn.
But why is our marriage counsellor doing you favors???
No reply came, but it made sense, didn’t it?
She always did take Bell’s side…
No, maybe I was just so terrible a human that they formed a bond over their collective experience in dealing with me.
I let out a sigh, when a call from downstairs drew my attention.
“Beck, what’s wrong-?”
I stopped dead, as I found her bent over, examining the box on the floor, and I breathed a sigh of relief, as while the position was itself provocative, she was wearing clothes, and that meant that I could at least face her.
“What is that?” I asked, as I moved to her side? “You were trying to pick it up last night…”
“It looks like a box. Wait, did I bring this all the way here?”
“I’m sorry, I should have stopped you before you-“
“It literally was the middle of the night, that’s not your fault,” she countered. “What is this, though?”
The box was sealed shut, and it reminded me of the boxes that I had stashed away in the storage shed around the back of the house.
“Holy shit, it is.”