An Unexpected Delivery

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Author’s Note:

This is my first attempt and submission at this style of writing. So please bear with me as I learn. This story doesnt have a lot of action, just a brief moment between consenting adults.

I also apologize for any grammatical or punctuation errors. I’m writing this on my phone, and sadly my neglect of paying attention in English class will probably show.

But criticism is welcome, and thank you for reading.

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One day, a mysterious package arrived at my door one day. It was wrapped in heavy brown paper, with a cross of twine tied about it. No return address or sign of who sent it to me. All that was attached to it was a note in handwritten script saying,

“Regardless of the age, something never changes. Hope you find this interesting.”

I took the package inside and laid it on the kitchen table. I examined the note once more, “Well, I am interested already,” I replied to the note. I undid the wrapping to have a leather bound journal reveal itself. It in well maintained condition, with little signs of age, or miscare on it. There were no identifying marks on the binding or the cover though.

Within it, was a different story. It appeared to be a journal, written in a script that looked familiar, yet kaman escort alien. Not too dissimilar from Norse runes and the Arabic alphabet, but that is where the similarities end. I was still puzzling over this odd package, and the note when a few pieces of modern paper fell from within the journal. Somewhere along the journey to my door, someone made a cipher for this odd book.

“You’ll certainly be a help.” I said to the pages as I sat down to really examine this mystery.

I flipped through the pages and settled on a random page, I figured if my interest was maintained, I could always go back to the beginning of the book and restart the tale. I will try and keep it as close to what was written and will refrain from interjecting modernity unless necessary. Here is what I read.

“10th month of the year, 1st day of the month.”

I was sitting at my desk looking over the finances after my latest period of pay. The tavern paid me more than well, especially for my position, but it never seemed to be enough. I leaned back in my chair and sighed, feeling slightly defeated at the seeming futility. Another rough time, until my next pay.

Then, as if on cue, my daughter, Stephanie, came into the bedroom. She was wearing a short linen undershirt and pants that hugged kapaklı escort her figure with great compliment. She was coming to grab something for her mother. I smiled as I noticed her. Her beauty was always captivating to me. She stands about 5’10, weighing maybe 165 or so, a little overweight, but not too much. Her light brown hair was sitting shoulder length and down for the moment. Her 42DD breasts played at her shirt, as if they wanted to break free from their woven prison.

“Hi, Dad,” she smiled as she came it. I smiled slightly and replied, “Hi hun.” She grabbed what she sought and began to walk back out of the room. She paused at the door, lifted her short shirt over her breasts, made a juggling motion with them, and, with a giggle, said, “Titties!” Then she replaced her shirt and began to walk out. Despite being 28, she could act silly, and childish, and I didn’t mind one bit.

“Hold on a moment,” I said before she had left completely. She came back in with a slight grin on her face. As she approached me, she lifted up her shirt once more, proudly displaying her breasts.

I slid one hand up her side, grazing her stomach, to her breast, cupping it in my hand, with the other, I slid up the back her leg to her inner thigh from behind, just below her ass. Her karabağlar escort skin felt warm, and inviting. I detected the faint scent of lavender, lilac, and honeysuckle coming from her, the warmth of her bath earlier emanating from her still.

She gave a slight gasp, not of surprise, though. ” You’re certainly in a playful mood.”she said as she leaned down. Her lips embraced mine.It draws me in with a sweetness even greater than honey, the tenderness of love, yet a rumbling of lust or passion just below the surface. Our lips part, and she begins to make her exit. “I think I’ll start teasing mom,” she said with a mischievous giggle, “I’ll get her worked up before tonight. I love you, Dad,” with a melodic tone to her voice as she walked out of my embrace. “I love you too, Stephanie,” I replied.

I sat there staring at the door in thought of my daughter, her mother, and the family we had become. I chuckled to myself and returned to my work. I swear that girl always knows how to make my day better.

With any luck, my night will be even better. My wife, daughter and myself intertwined in a lover’s embrace.

-Cal

The journal entry ended there. I stretched as I got up, and began drinking a cup of coffee, and began to think over what i just read. An entry of a father, and daughter, being closer than normal, or socially acceptable, and the implication that the mother was not only aware, but condoned, and participated in the relationship. Not sure who sent this to me, but I was thankful to them.

I gathered us the notes, and the journal, and stored them away, and prepared for my day.

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