A Road Trip with My Grand Daughter-Part II

I didn’t sleep well that night. My mind was in a constant battle with itself. One part of it basked in the excitement of my newly discovered attraction for my, soon to be, 14 year-old grand daughter and the other part was furious over what I had just allowed my desires to do to her. I got up from my bed in my motor coach, where only a short time ago, I had fondled or molested, depending on which part of my brain I was listening to, my grand daughter, my beautiful Kristy. I found a pair of boxers and wandered out to the living part of the coach. I fixed myself a cup of coffee and settled down to fight over my actions.

There was a steady rain, not hard, but just enough to make a drumming noise on the motor coach’s roof. That noise was adding to my insomnia, as I watched the clock turn 4:00 in the morning; so much for going to bed early and getting a good night’s sleep. If only Kristy hadn’t got frightened the storm, then I wouldn’t be having these conflicting feelings. If only she had allowed me to put some cloths on before she jumped into my bed. If only she hadn’t scooted back into my cock. If only I hadn’t groped her breasts. If only it hadn’t happen. But all of it had happened and now I must live with it. I had molested my grand daughter.

I finally settled down on the sofa bed I had earlier made up for Kristy to sleep in. How ironic, I was sleeping in her bed and she was sound asleep in mine. As least she could sleep, that’s a whole lot better than I was doing. But after awhile, I did manage to drift off for some much needed rest, if not a sound sleep. When I awoke with a start, I realized I had over slept my desired departure time by a half hour and now I would be late getting going. O well, I guess there really is no hurry, so I might as well go over to the office and chat with Elmer for a bit before breaking down the coach for running.

Returning to the coach, after sharing some eggs and bacon with my host, I broke down the campsite; all but the slide out in the bedroom, and I went back to wake up Kristy. I was almost hesitant to wake her, I didn’t know what to expect.

“Kristy, Sweety,” I said gently. She did not move, so I repeated the call. “Kristy, it’s time to wake up,” I said, a little louder. “I’ve got to move the slide out back in and take off. If you want to sleep some more, it’s okay, but I got to move the bed.” With that, I started the motor running to the slide and the bed began to move back to its original place.

She awoke and sat up with a questioning look in her eyes. I said reassuringly, “It’s okay, it’s just me moving the bed back in. I’ll be heading out here shortly, but you can stay back here as long as you want. Go back to sleep now, okay?”

“Okay Gramps,” she said, sleepily, then her head hit the pillow again and she was out like a light.

As I pulled back out onto I-80, I checked my watch and it was 8:30. I had missed our departure time by two hours and I was already tired. I guessed that we could make the U.S. Highway 191 by about 1 this afternoon and then turn north and follow it to Jackson by around 5 this evening. Wow, we are running late, because of my stupid molesting problem. O boy, here we go again.

I drove for about an hour and a half, battling again with myself over the previous night’s activities. At just about 10, Kristy came out of the bedroom, still in her pajamas, and asked if it was alright if she took a shower. I said, “If you don’t mind not having any hot water,” and grinned. She smiled and asked when I would be stopping, so she could take a shower and get cleaned up. I told her I’d stop at the next rest area.

She came forward and joined me in the passenger’s seat. She was barely awake and still showed the signs of that she had slept in. She sat there in the chair and stared out into space. She turned to me and asked, “Couldn’t you sleep last night?”

“No, I had a lot on my mind,” I said truthfully. “I ended up out here on the sofa bed. How did you sleep?” I inquired.

“I slept wonderfully,” she said warmly. “I’ve never slept so well.”
“That’s great,” I said. Then sheepishly I said, “About last night, I don’t know what to say, Sweety. I’m so embarrassed and ashamed of my actions. How can you ever respect me again?”

She looked out at the road for a moment, going over in her mind what I had just said. Then, she inserted, “Gramps, what happened was all my fault. If I hadn’t come running in to your room like that, none of that would have ever happened.” She paused for a moment and then added, “But I’m not sorry it did.”

“Well I am, young lady, and, let me assure you that it will never happen again,” I asserted with a definite tone in my voice.

She did not say anything else, but just sat there, staring out the window, for a long time. Finally, she asked another question. “Gramps, are you ashamed of what happened last night?” Without waiting for an answer, she continued. “I thought what we did was wonderful. I loved how you made me feel. You were kind and gentle with me, being the first time I had experienced anything like that, and you were caring and loving, just how I hoped it would be. Gramps, why are you ashamed of what we did?”

Now it was my turn to think about my response. “Kristy, first of all, it is against the law. I could go to jail for what I did last night. Second, it is against all moral decencies to molest your own, younger relative. It is called incest, and it is also illegal by most standards. And thirdly, it goes against everything I personally believe in. What I did was reprehensible. Yes, I’m ashamed of myself for forcing you into that circumstance and I never do that again.”

She paused a moment again and then said defiantly, “Gramps, you didn’t force me into any circumstance. You didn’t force me to do anything. It was I who force you into allowing me to get into bed with you. I said it was okay when you put your hand on my boob. It was I who answered your question about whether I knew what we were doing and I answered “Yes”. Gramps, I forced you, instead you the other way around.”

“But Kristy, I’m the adult here, not you Sweety. I had the power to stop it and I didn’t. It is my fault, not yours,” I insisted. As I signaled to get off at the upcoming rest area, I repeated, “It is my fault, not yours.”

Getting in the last word, she reiterated, “I still think it was wonderful and no matter what you think or say, Gramps, I loved it and I always will.” She got up and walked briskly back to the bedroom, tears starting to fall on her cheeks.

I turned on the hot water heater as we sat in the rest area. I also decided to use the gas cook top to prepare some eggs and bacon for my lovely, if misguided, grand daughter. I heard the shower turn off as I put the eggs on to cook. “Do you want your eggs over easy, Sweety,” I inquired in my most loving voice. I couldn’t stay mad at her and I hoped she couldn’t stay mad at me.

“Yes, please, Gramps,” her cheery voice responded. Everything was forgiven and forgotten, at least for now.

After she ate her breakfast and I had cleaned up the kitchen, I pulled back on the Interstate and we continued west for another two hours, then we turned north on U.S. Highway 191, towards Jackson. Along the way, Kristy sat up front with me, keeping me company, for part of the way. She also stayed busy texting her friends back home. While she was up front, I took the opportunity to explain to her all about how and why the Tetons were formed. I could hardly wait to show her the most beautiful mountains in existence, at least in my opinion.

As she sat there in the passenger’s seat, she would sometimes extend her feet out and on top of the dash board in front of her. Her slender, long legs would stretch out and I couldn’t help but notice the smooth, athletic shape to them. She was unaware of my gaze, because she was slumped down in the chair, with her mind on her texting. Her bare little feet were cradled by the indention of the dash and the soft flow of her limbs caused my eye to follow them back to the opening of her tiny shorts, where they disappeared beneath the white denim fabric.

On occasion, she would bring her knees up to her chest to rest her phone on them, creating a tantalizing view of her panties sticking out of her shorts at the legs. Her shorts were very short and I had a hard time keeping my eyes on the road. I would chastise myself all over again, peeping at my grand daughter’s display of her panties. My gosh, John, get a life!

We passed through Jackson, on our way to the National Park: it was 5:30. We had just 20 minutes to go. I was bushed, my butt was sore and my eyes ached from the strain of staying open for so long. Finally stopping at the Park entrance, I steered the 45’ coach, towing a Jeep Wrangler, into the campgrounds and we found our home for the next three days. It was exactly 6 o’clock.

After setting the levelers, the slide outs, connecting to the power, water and sewer at the site, I told Kristy, I was taking her into Jackson for dinner tonight. I was too tired to cook and I wanted a big ol’ steak. I told her to change into something a little nicer and I would also put on my duds and we would be off.

She came out of the bathroom wearing a pale ...

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