My Baby Girl and our Big Decision

By WintermuteX
wintermutex.stories@gmail.com
http://www.asstr.org/~Wintermutex/

Previous stories:
My Baby Girl and Her First Time
My Baby Girl and Our First Date
My Baby Girl and the Modelling Gig
My Baby Girl and the Pajama Party
My Baby Girl and the Swim Class
My Baby Girl and the Halloween Party
My Baby Girl Claims Victory
My Baby Girl and the Field Trip
My Baby Girl and our French Vacation

Tags:
Mg, inc, teen, rom, cons, preg

Content:
Young Teen, Incest, Romance, Impregnation

                                  ~*~                                  

"Don't forget your pill sweetie!" 

My daughter made a face, but she swallowed the pink tab with her orange 
juice and pulled on her backpack before hustling down the hallway to the 
front door. 

I stared morosely into my laptop screen. What a mess. Our lawyers had 
dumped a steaming pile of shit into my inbox overnight, drafting an 
idiotic revision to the contract we were negotiating for our Japanese 
clients, and had screwed it up so badly that accusations were already 
starting to run back and forth in multiple languages. Our management 
would work it out eventually - far too much money was at stake for 
anyone to walk away - but in the meantime I had to clean things up and 
put on a good face for my company. My head was already pounding 

"Hey!" I leaned my head way back on the couch so I could see down the 
hallway to where my 13-year-old daughter was tying her shoes. 

"Love you Shae," I said. 

She finished her shoes and stood up to smooth out the blouse and pleated 
skirt of her school uniform. 

"Love you too daddy," she said, just slightly too quickly, then darted 
out the door without giving me a kiss. 

And that was the other thing. Shae was mad at me. She hated my new job. 
The promotion to a new division had come with a massive pay increase, 
enough to buy this nice new house by the beach, and the property gave us 
a lot more privacy. I thought she would love it. And she did, at first. 
The extra space was great. Our bedroom was connected to another one by a 
shared bathroom. Shae made it clear she had no desire for her own 
bedroom again, so I converted the connected room to her own studio so 
she could at least practice her dancing or work on an outfit without me 
seeing it early. She had been thrilled. 

But my work had landed an enormous contract and it had stolen more and 
more of my time. I rubbed my forehead, trying to focus through the lack 
of sleep. This deal would be the biggest trans-Pacific shift in a 
decade, and the global leaders of business and industry were already 
lining up at the trough. Usually I went into the office in the day, but 
at this phase most of our meetings were with our clients in Tokyo during 
their business hours...in the middle of the night for me. I conferenced 
in and worked throughout the night most of the week. Another thing my 
daughter wasn't happy about, understandably. We didn't get to go to bed 
together much anymore. I tried to keep her happy in between, but I knew 
she resented the loss. She couldn't sleep well if she wasn't able to 
snuggle up to her Daddy and get her goodnight fuck. 

Emails, questions, translations, legal documents to review...I made 
fitful progress, trying to put things back on track and hopefully soothe 
some tempers in the process. It was no good. I couldn't concentrate, 
thinking for the millionth time about Shae, wondering what she was doing 
right now, worried. Maybe I could ditch work and pick her up from school 
and take her out. No, that was no good. I had tried that once already, 
and it stung when I realized she hadn't been happy to see me. 

I gave up and slumped back in my chair with a sigh, eyes wandering 
wearily over the framed photographs that lined the dining room walls. Me 
and Shae. We had taken one together every year of her life. They told 
the story of the infant in my arms growing to a toddler and then a happy 
little girl with a sunny smile. In the tenth one, instead of looking at 
the camera, she had surprised me by turning to plant a kiss on my cheek 
at the last second. My startled expression had been so perfect that we 
kept it. Two other frames capped the end of the line: the picture of her 
picking flowers in France a year ago, and a smallish photograph of a 
girl with almond eyes and dark hair pulled into pigtails. Satomi. She 
had kept in touch with me and Shae through email, but we had never had 
the chance to visit. Her relationship with her own Dad was still 
growing. I wished I could say the same about us. 

Our first night in the new house had been grand. We had eaten dinner out 
on the big deck, watching the water and talking as Shae set the table 
and I barbecued the chicken. Maybe this was it, I had thought: a better 
place for us, safer, somewhere we wouldn't be bothered while Shae 
adjusted to a new school and I settled into my new job. Our old 
neighbors had become suspicious, and I decided I couldn't take any more 
chances where my daughter was concerned. The high fences and relative 
isolation of our new home gave us enough privacy to do whatever we 
wished. After dinner we had soaked in the hot tub and watched the sun go 
down over the ocean. 

The view was beautiful, but nothing could top my baby girl's grin when I 
lifted her out of the water and laid her down on her back on the thick 
towels. I wished she would smile like that again, raising her arms above 
her head to stretch and wiggling slightly as I pulled her swimsuit off, 
purring like a kitten from her Daddy's attention. We were as alone as we 
could be, out on the deck with the warm breeze from the ocean drying our 
skin, but if anyone had watched us, really watched instead of closing 
their heart and mind, they would have seen the deep passion in our 
embrace, the love as we kissed and traded each other's taste, a little 
girl and her Daddy sharing a bond that ran so much deeper and stronger 
than the pumping connection of our bodies. 

Kissing my baby girl was a thrill, touching her body a joy beyond words, 
yet they still paled next to the ecstatic paradise of being inside her. 
Her body had flexed and writhed under my hands, the faint mounds of her 
growing breasts yielding to the hungry squeeze of my grip until she 
yelped and arched her back, the naked skin of her torso burnished orange 
in the fading sunlight as pleasure raced up her spine and locked her 
muscles into the shaking beat of our shared climax. Even after the 
blinding pulse began to wane, legs trembling and her belly filled with a 
warm flood of her Daddy's seed, she still wasn't satisfied. She had 
taken me in her mouth, sucking me back to full strength until I left 
another helping of white butter melting in her throat, and then climbed 
on and rode me until my manhood had grown back into a throbbing rod that 
erupted deep in her little pussy and flooded another helping of semen up 
into her 13-year-old pussy. 

The sudden plinking sound of my laptop jerked me out of my reverie - a 
reminder of the work due tonight. I slammed the lid shut in frustration 
and looked at the clock. Afternoon already. I had dozed for hours, 
thoughts stewing with desire and worry for my little girl. Groaning, I 
stood up from the couch, trying to shake out the stiffness from my back 
and legs. A few hours of sleep: that's all I would be able to get before 
I had to wake up and shave and get ready for dinner tonight. I was 
taking Shae out, and I wasn't going to be late this time, I promised 
myself. Maybe she'd had a good day at school. Maybe some of that 
cheerful smile would shine through. Maybe she'd even feel talkative 
enough to open up to me. It was all I could hope for. Shaking my head to 
try to clear my thoughts, I yawned my way down the hallway to our 
bedroom and tumbled into bed. 

                                  ~*~                                  

Shae's favorite place wasn't somewhere fancy, wasn't somewhere 
expensive, wasn't any of the high-priced gourmet restaurants I had 
treated her to so many times. It was a little hole-in-the-wall pizza 
kitchen about 3 blocks away, smaller than our living room and with only 
six tiny tables. She was crazy about their breadsticks. They had olives 
baked in, so I couldn't stand them. She always got the whole basket to 
herself. The pizza was fantastic though. 

"What do you think?" I asked, peeking at her over the menu. "Should we 
get Hawaiian? Or do you want half veggie again?" 

"Hmmm, not sure," she mumbled indecisively, her head buried behind the 
black plastic of her own menu. 

"Maybe we should try something different then," I teased. "Anchovies." 

"Blech." I could feel her tongue sticking out behind the menu. 

"Don't like that? We could get half-and-half. Anchovies for my half, 
squid with extra garlic for your half." 

"Oh my god..." she chuckled. 

"Delizioso!" I mimed the puckered gesture of an Italian connoisseur. 

She dropped her menu onto the table and I finally saw a smile stirring 
at the corners of her mouth. 

"Ok well you can get whatever kind of weird creepyfish you want on your 
side. I'm getting the Italian pesto on mine." 

"Well I'll have to see if they have creepyfish on the menu..." I rubbed 
my chin as if in deep contemplation of this possibility, "but if not I'm 
getting the pepperoni and parmesan. It was pretty good last time." 

Shae nodded and I gave our order to the surly girl who was the only 
waitress when she finally came by. It was hard watching that smile I had 
so carefully coaxed out begin to melt away again as Shae stared down at 
the table again with a distant expression. I tried again, asking about 
her day and if she liked her new teachers at school, but it was hard to 
get her to say more than a few words at a time. She looked down, she 
looked around, but I just couldn't get her engaged. 

I couldn't bear to see my baby girl like this. Anything that ever 
bothered her bothered me ten times more. I had wondered if it was normal 
13-year-old moodiness, but that just didn't seem like her. Her grades 
had suffered massively in the last few months, but I didn't bring her 
here to bug her about school. She didn't want to talk about it anyway, 
so I abandoned the subject. I just wanted her to have a good time. 

Our food finally arrived - drinks and salad and a pizza still fresh and 
steaming, and we dug in. I really had to hand it to this place; they 
were probably the best pizza joint in town. It's funny how the tiniest 
and most unknown places sometimes served the best food around. Aside 
from the perpetually grumpy waitress, everything about it was always 
top-notch. Shae's mood even seemed to lighten a little bit as she spun 
the pan on its coaster and picked the first slice that stopped in front 
of her. 

"Hey do you remember that contract I'm working on?" I asked between 
mouthfuls. "The big one?" 

She nodded. 

"Well it's a really big one. Billions of dollars. The Japanese want to 
begin moving another fifty million tons of goods down through the 
Phillipines every month." 

"Oh." She summoned a half-hearted smile. "That's a lot." 

Shae didn't really understand my work, but if she wasn't going to talk, 
I was. 

"Mmmhmm. Well I have to meet with their lawyers every night now along 
with the board members." I stuffed the last of the pizza slice in my 
mouth, chewing the crust as I reached for another. "There's this one in 
particular, Mr. Sugiyama. He's a very peculiar man. Incredibly short." I 
held up a hand to shoulder height. "Extremely polite too, but his accent 
is really thick. Not typical Japanese. I couldn't quite place it." 

She nodded silently. 

"I asked him about it once and apparently he grew up moving between 
India and Japan a lot. That's why his accent is unusual. Well we got to 
talking about family and I showed him a picture of you. Now he asks 
about you ALL the time. Every night when we meet. I think he's in love." 

She blushed faintly as she finished wolfing down her slice. 

"Watts-san, osaki ni shitsurei shimasu," I mimicked, bowing. "'Please 
send my love to Sheii' - That's how he says it." 

This would have earned a giggle at any other time, but Shae just kept 
pushing a piece of lettuce around with her fork, indifferent. 

"Oh. He sounds funny." 

She was staring down at her plate, frowning, the characteristic sparkle 
missing from her eyes. Frustrated, I took another sip of my soda. I 
wanted to grab her arm, yell at her, make her tell me what was wrong, 
but that wouldn't help anything. 

"Sweetie, please talk to me." 

"Oh, sorry Daddy." She gave me a smile, pretty and reassuring, and fake. 
"It's ok. Guess I'm just not feeling so good tonight." 

I stared at her and tried to force down the lump in my throat. Is it 
work, Shae? If that's what it was, I just wanted her to tell me, to 
throw me a bone. I wanted to grab her and shout at her that I was sorry. 
Sorry I was gone a lot, sorry things turned out to be a lot more 
demanding than I expected. I couldn't stand being shut out by the girl I 
loved. 

We ate the rest of our meal in silence. 

                                  ~*~                                  

No stupid meeting tonight. No lawyers or clients or last-minute requests 
from the dimwitted imbeciles in management. I watched myself breath a 
sigh of relief in the mirror as I pulled off my tie and tossed it in the 
hamper. Were those really dark circles under my eyes? I looked closer, 
seeing the evidence of my exhaustion plain on my face. Not enough sleep. 
Half the time I worked through the night and the other half I lay awake 
worried sick about my daughter. I wouldn't be able to keep this up for 
much longer, but I wouldn't have to. My role in the contract 
negotiations was almost over anyway. 

Shae came out of the bathroom in her pink nightie, yawning and 
stretching. At least I could go to bed with her tonight, could wrap my 
arms around her and doze off against the warm comfort of my baby girl's 
backside. She seemed ok, as she switched on the TV with the remote and 
then pulled back the covers of our bed. It had ended awkwardly but 
dinner had still been better than just working and leaving her alone 
again. 

I watched her from the corner of my eye as I stripped off the rest of my 
clothes. As beautiful as ever, shapely body shifting under the 
translucent cloth of the loose-fitting nightie, long hair reflecting a 
golden luster from the table lamp. The tantalizing silhouette of her 
13-year-old body flashed briefly as she eclipsed the light to get into 
bed, every curving detail of her lovely hips and thighs burning 
themselves into the hungry chemicals in my brain like a photograph. 

My pants and underwear finally came off, the latter fighting against the 
spring of my mounting erection. I tumbled naked into bed with my 
daughter, pulling the sheet up and cuddling up behind her so I could 
drape an arm over her stomach. At least she wasn't so angry at me that I 
couldn't do that. She stiffened slightly, instead of melting in my arms 
like she usually did, and we watched the tv in tense silence. An old 
western had come on, a fusillade of bullets heralding the arrival of 
mounted banditos, come to sack the peaceful village. Only John Wayne 
could save them. 

My mind paced like a trapped animal, going over the same thoughts again 
and again. There had to be something I could do, but I kept coming up 
blank. The slow rhythm of the rising chest pressing on my arm was a 
steady comfort, and I finally began to relax. Soft skin, strawberry 
shampoo, the aching feeling of my manhood poking against her slick 
bottom - all the delicious sensations of my baby girl did their work and 
I felt the stress draining away. 

The bandits had hit the bank and made off with several bulging white 
sacks painted with dollar signs, and one poor damsel who happened to be 
in the wrong place at the wrong time. I traced my fingers idly over my 
little girl's tummy, rubbing the pink fabric up against the soft skin 
underneath, enjoying the simple warmth, listening to her breathing 
quicken, feeling the moisture and heat build down below where her 
Daddy's cock was pressing up against her pussy, waiting patiently. 

The movie teetered on a cliffhanger with John Wayne hanging by one arm 
over a cliff, then broke for commercial: nursery music and toddlers, 
peddling baby clothes. 

Shae suddenly pushed against me and tugged on my arm. "Fuck me Daddy. 
Come on." 

I'd never make my daughter ask me twice. I kissed her on top of her head 
and let my hands loose, massaging her bare arms and shoulders, squeezing 
with mounting pressure until the tightness in her muscles began to wane. 
My lips moved down, brushing her earlobe, spilling hot breath against 
her skin until I was kissing her neck. The subtle arch and light moan 
signalled her approval. My daughter finally began to thaw in my hands. I 
kept it up, tracing down over the silky cloth to her hips, getting a 
light grip, holding her tighter to me so she could feel the brush of 
muscles and chest hair pressing against her back, the tip of firm flesh 
sliding gently along the wet lips of her pussy. She began to squirm 
slightly, sweaty, against the enveloping, hungry form of her Daddy's 
presence - my lips pressing from above, thighs bumping together and cock 
pushing up from below, arms wrapped around her stomach and holding her 
tight. 

The mewling little shudder came right on schedule, bringing with it the 
mounting flush of heat and pleasure that radiated from my daughter's sex 
onto the top of my rubbing prick. Shae could never resist, could never 
really hold back when her body cried out for her Daddy's stiff 
attention. My fingers ducked and tunneled up under the loose fabric, 
sliding along the smooth belly until they found her slight breasts and 
tiny nipples. The little pair of nubs were like magic, buttons that I 
pressed and twisted and flicked with perfect precision until I felt the 
burning in Shae's belly blossom into a gasping, hip-jerking shudder that 
spread through her arms and legs like twitching wildfire. My daughter 
moaned, squealed, pushed her hips back into me in a demanding rhythm, 
juices dribbling from her tunnel and coating the length of my manhood. 
She was ready. 

I sat up and yanked off the bedspread, guiding Shae onto her back with a 
coaxing hand on her hip. Her chest was heaving, pointed nipples tenting 
the thin fabric. Her legs were open, waiting. Her eyes looked up at me, 
unafraid, unashamed, holding none of the morose gloom that I had seen 
living there so recently but just the burning desire and love for me 
that I knew so well, a trust and welcoming affection that seemed to 
spring from the deepest foundation of herself. 

The pale light of the tv flooded her bare stomach and chest when I 
pulled the nightie up and over her shoulders. It would be alright, I 
thought, no matter what happened the world would be alright as long as 
that shine of love and devotion never faded out in her eyes. 

I lined up my cock with my daughter's dripping slit, tapping the 
swelling lips and enjoying her moans. Intense, sucking heat wrapped 
around the head of my prick as I slipped it into her pussy. Shae jerked, 
once, when I entered, throwing her head to the side and curling her 
fingers into the sheets. Delicious, gripping spasms pulsed around my 
meat as I pushed further into my baby girl's 13-year-old cunt, feeling 
her excitement in the spastic flashes of heat and the impatient 
quivering of her pelvis. Shae bit her lip then immediately jolted into a 
loud moan when I worked another inch in, then devolved to a light 
whimpering pant as she tried to relax and adjust to the wide girth of 
her father's rod stuffing into her pussy. 

I gave her a few seconds, rubbing her stomach and chest, until she 
nodded at me to go farther. The bed began to shake slightly as I 
established a light thrusting rhythm, gently building on the few inches 
I had stuffed inside my daughter, watching her face to make sure I 
wasn't going too fast. A light creaking sound came from the bed as I 
increased the pace. Moist suction grabbed at my organ when I pushed in, 
my daughter's pussy walls squeezing me restlessly and letting me go 
reluctantly as I pulled out to thrust again. Shae's pussy was incredibly 
tight. It was barely less tight now than when I had first stuffed my 
cock inside it when she was 7. Maybe she'd always be this small. I 
didn't mind. My gaze roamed lovingly over the spread legs and smooth 
stomach beaded with sweat, the adorable navel and the swelling breasts 
capped by tiny pink bullets, and up to the glazed expression and panting 
lips pressed into a tight O on her face. There was no part of her that 
wasn't perfect in my eyes. 

The light tempo of our bodies mounted to a beat of urgent thumping, my 
daughter wiggling her hips and pushing back at me, urging her Daddy's 
cock deeper. The gripping pussy lips glided higher around my prick with 
each eager thrust until my balls began to slap against her bottom. 
Frenzied, I wrapped her thighs in an iron grip and began to slam the 
full length of my cock into her in long thrusts, pushing her butt along 
the sheets until her head was up against the headboard. I wanted her, 
thirsted for every part of her, burned with the fatherly need to keep 
her safe and warm and happy on the end of my cock. The duty was coded 
into me at the deepest level, to grant her every need, guide her through 
every peril, fulfill her every desire, satiate every appetite, to be 
there behind her and beside her and inside her whenever and wherever she 
needed me. 

Her moans had melted together into one long howl - loud, we could afford 
to be loud now. My daughter's voice rang out with an unbroken cry of 
total completion as her toes curled and her thighs seized and a 
maelstrom of squeezing sparks swirled through the muscles in her pussy 
and ignited into trembling waves that flooded her body with a storm of 
jerking muscles, arms and legs spasming and spine arching off the bed 
and mouth locking tight around the wail coming from her throat. 

My daughter shuddered through the last crashes of her orgasm, outcry 
dwindling slowly to a murmur. She came early, but I was right behind. 
The swelling feeling of my cock in the lingering storm of her pussy 
signalled my own imminent climax. I pulled out, keeping a tight grip on 
her thigh, and ran my stiff cock over the slippery, messy juice on her 
pussy lips, fisting my shaft frantically until my balls finally seized 
and a racing pink roar rocketed up to my brain. A hot rush of semen 
spurted out and lanced across Shae's tummy, and another, making an X, 
and then I lost control of the pumping firehose in the wash of ecstasy 
that drowned out everything in the world but the naked, gasping form of 
my little girl on the bed in front of me. 

What a glorious sight, I thought, when the static finally receded. My 
daughter, lying exhausted on the bed, a white mess of her father's semen 
on her naked belly, the largest glob sliding slowly down to fill the 
tiny pool of her bellybutton. Sometimes cuming on Shae was just as good 
as cuming inside her. I loved to see the white goop on her face or lips, 
splattered on her stomach or butt, even dripping down her legs, the 
salty, tangible evidence of our love. Every father should be so lucky. 

The bed creaked a final time as I flopped onto the bedding beside her, 
spent, hazy. The TV was babbling something far off that I couldn't make 
out. The rest of the world was still a dim shadow, my senses attuned 
only to the little girl I loved so much, resting on her back beside me. 
She was looking down at the glistening streaks of fluid on her belly, 
glowing blue-white from the television's pale light. She rubbed her 
fingers through a gooey puddle, tracing her Daddy's semen in an idle 
circle around her navel... 

...And burst into tears. 

Shock turned my stomach to ice. Shae pulled her legs into a ball and 
curled up defensively on the bed beside me, bawling with grief. She 
brought her cum-slick hands up to her face and covered her eyes, howling 
uncontrollably like she had lost everything she ever cared about. My 
brain locked up, panicking at the sight. I hadn't seen her cry since she 
was little. Dull pain began to throb in my chest, that wretched clench 
in your gut when someone you love is hurting. 

I reached out to touch her shoulder, but she pulled away, rolling over 
to sit with her legs hanging over the edge of the bed, crying 
inconsolably into her hands with her back to me. The question caught in 
my throat and came out as a strangled croak. She ignored me. Her naked 
back hitched with pain, tears bubbling off her palms to run down her 
bare arms. I touched her shoulder and she flinched away again, hunching 
down and crying into her knees. 

Dread wormed its way through my heart, paralyzing it with slow venom. My 
13-year-old daughter was falling apart right after we made love, 
something that used to make her the happiest girl in the world. A nasty, 
terrifying whisper breathed in the back of my mind. Protect your 
daughter, keep her safe, keep her happy. A father's job, and I would 
have accepted any other pain if I could dispel the slow, creeping doubt 
that burrowed just under the surface, whispering inaudibly that maybe I 
had been fooling myself, that I had done this and the result was in 
front of me, that our incestual relationship had damaged my daughter and 
the happiest truth of my life was a delusion. 

I couldn't face that. It was more than I could bear. I reached out 
again, stopped, terrified that my daughter would pull away from my touch 
again. A burning sting spidered out from the hole in my chest where my 
heart had been, tightening into a noose around my throat at the awful 
sight of the girl I loved wailing with grief. 

I settled for rolling my legs off the bed too and resting my head in my 
hands, my own tears spilling down my face and filling my palms. Two feet 
of space separated us on the bed, two feet of an impossible gulf of 
aching misery in the space between my legs and hers. 

The TV babbled on, ignoring our plight, spewing some offensively 
cheerful jingle for crackers. It was a million miles away. Everything 
was. I poured my grief into my own hands, thinking that I would vomit, 
that this was the end, that the only person I had ever turned to for 
comfort was the one sitting in pain beside me, and if that whispering 
voice that I was trying to kick back into the shadows was right, that 
maybe I had hurt her in a way I could never forgive myself for. 

Shae was quieting slightly, her tears slowing and her chest settling to 
ragged breathing. Shoulders and arms slumped, hands and face wet with 
grief. The most miserable of creatures. I had to know, had to test the 
doubt I couldn't let myself acknowledge. I reached out, arm shaking, 
refusing to move until I forced it, and slid my palm over the bedding to 
cover hers. The brief flinch was another nail in my chest, but she 
didn't turn away this time, didn't shut me out. Our fingers touched, wet 
and glistening in the flicker of blue light from the television. Shae 
was sniffling uncontrollably, snorting to clear the runniness from her 
nose, rubbing her face with her other hand. I couldn't bear it. I 
grabbed her shoulder and pulled her to me in a bearhug, wrapping arms 
around her naked back and squeezing her like I feared a hurricane would 
rip her out of my arms. She sagged against me, palms on my chest, and 
let me hold my arms tight around her body as I buried my face in her 
hair and broke down into racking sobs. I'm sorry Shae, please forgive 
me. Please stay with me. I'll do anything. I can't live without you. The 
words were haphazard chaos in my brain, coming out as incoherent mumbles 
in her hair. I rocked back and forth, sobbing, squeezing my little 
girl's naked body in my arms as my world fell to pieces around me. 

                                  ~*~                                  

Night passed in fitful patches of uneasy sleep. I kept waking up to 
brief moments of panic, my head jerking off the pillow and seeing the 
faint slants of the streetlight on the wall, shining through the tilted 
blinds, then feeling desperately under the covers until my fingertips 
brushed up against my daughter's warm back. We had calmed down, 
eventually, both of us frazzled and emotionally exhausted. Shae had 
refused to talk and I didn't want to push her, not when we were both so 
raw. It was enough that she let me hold her for a while, before turning 
over and going to sleep. 

I stared at the ceiling, watching it take shape as the grey pre-light of 
dawn filtered in from the windows. I was exhausted, numb, but my body 
wouldn't cooperate. Shadows stretched out from the tiny bumps on the 
ceiling, inching across the placid surface as the minutes ticked by. 
Finally I gave up, kissing my sleeping daughter on the shoulder before 
rolling quietly out of bed and fumbling in the dark until I found my 
underwear. 

It took an hour, but the activity kept my mind occupied. A small 
gesture, but I wanted to do what I could. Had to. Needed to, because if 
I stopped moving then that terrible possibility would creep out of the 
shadows again and whisper in my ear and then I would want to curl up and 
die. At least I had all the ingredients I needed. I cleaned the table 
and set it, then got my pans out and got to work. 

The aroma of french toast was a palpable presence that filled the 
kitchen. I scooped the steaming slices from the pan and dropped them 
onto a pair of plates. Hot french toast with double cinnamon, slathered 
in strawberry preserves: Shae's favorite. She was probably waking up to 
the smell right now. I added the ham and eggs and finished her stack 
with a dollop of whipped cream. 

She appeared at the end of the hallway as if summoned by culinary magic, 
yawning into the sleeve of my thin grey t-shirt that was much too large 
for her. It billowed around her delicate frame and dangled to her knees, 
the wide neckline drooping over her bare shoulder. 

She didn't say anything, didn't greet her Daddy with a kiss and a 
squeeze like she usually did. Instead she just flopped into the far 
chair of our little breakfast table and stared out the back door 
listlessly. Raw sunlight flooded through the clear glass, tracing the 
outline of her naked body through the shirt, pouring over her golden 
hair until it seemed to glow with its own inner light. My daughter 
couldn't help but be beautiful in my eyes, but it was heartwrenching to 
see her like this: eyes downcast and hair tangled, shoulders slumped, 
face marred by a worried frown. 

"French Coffee, French Toast, French Kiss. Bon appetit." I laid the 
plate down in front of her, hoping to earn a laugh from our old joke. 

"Thanks Daddy." She looked at her food and then up at me, cracking a 
tiny smile at last. Ok, it wasn't much, but I'd take it. Her eyes were 
still red. 

Breakfast was slow and awkward. We munched quietly as we looked out the 
window towards the ocean, then I cleared the plates. Shae had pulled her 
legs up onto the dining room chair when I got back, and was resting her 
head on her knees as she watched the seagulls outside. 

"Honey, I know you don't want to, but please, we have to talk. Now, when 
neither of us is angry or hurting." 

I thought she might ignore me, but she finally turned her head. 

"Ok." 

I pulled the other chair closer and dropped into it. 

"This is what I mean. Shae, even if it hurts us, or hurts the other 
person, even when we want be quiet more than anything, we still have to 
talk. We need to speak, gently, kindly. That's love. That's how people 
who love each other talk. It's impossible to keep things bottled up. 
They always come out one way or another. So we have to be completely 
honest with each other. COMPLETELY honest, even if it hurts. Especially 
if it hurts. Can we do that?" 

She nodded again. She was listening. 

"I'm sorry I've been neglecting you," I began. "It wasn't fair. I 
haven't been keeping up and I know it. I know you hate my new job and 
now I think I hate it too. I'll start making it up to you, somehow. I 
don't know how yet. Can you forgive me?" 

She stared at me for a minute, arms curled around her legs, and I had 
the feeling I had missed the mark entirely, but she finally nodded. I 
took a deep breath. Now the other thing. Nothing for it but to drive the 
nail right into my heart. I took her hand and folded it between mine. 

"Sweetie, I need to be sure. You're 13. You're growing up faster than I 
can believe, and you're in a new school and a new house and I know 
everything seems like it's changing. You'll be a woman before you know 
it. I can see it happening already." 

I squeezed her hand and blundered on. "You're smart. You, well, you can 
make your own choices about what you want. I don't ever want you to 
think you're being forced to do something you don't want to do, or that 
you're being pressured, or-" 

I choked and tried again. "Look, I'm saying that if you want something 
different, I can live with that." I couldn't, really, but Shae was more 
important. I was squeezing her hand so hard. "You're talented. You're 
clever. I don't ever want to hold you back from what you want to do, 
or...or who you want to be with. If you need something different, 
that's-" 

"STOP IT!" She suddenly shouted at me. I wasn't squeezing her hand, she 
was squeezing mine, fury blazing in her eyes. "Stop! Stop it Daddy!" Her 
other hand was an angry fist pounding my bare chest. "Stop it just 
FUCKING STOP IT!" Her face was twisted with grief and anger, tears 
streaming over her cheeks. "STOP IT STOP IT!" She hit me twice more and 
then collapsed sobbing against my chest. 

Oh no. My mouth had run me right over the edge into disaster. I held my 
little girl against me as she quaked, wondering how I had found a way to 
make things even worse. 

"This is the worst thing you've ever said," she wept. "Stop it. I love 
you Daddy." 

"I'm sorry." I hugged her back, burying my face in her hair. My grief 
had twisted itself into knots all morning, expecting the worst, and just 
like that it all let up, leaving me in a numb limbo. Shae still loved 
me. I was a tiny speck of a man, looking up at a tsunami, 
uncomprehending. She still loved me. My baby girl loved me. My wonderful 
daughter. It crashed over me all at once, a flood of emotion, and I 
sobbed in her hair and squeezed her until I thought her shoulders would 
crack. I had been worried for nothing. She still loved me. 

"You're were crying," I murmured into her hair. "We made love and then 
you cried and...and I didn't know what to think Shae. You've been so mad 
at me. Why were you crying?" 

"Oh come ON!" She pushed back and slapped my chest, still angry. 

I stared at her until her expression softened. "I really don't know, 
honey," I said. "Please. You have to tell me." 

She rubbed her eyes and flopped back on her chair, arms crossed 
defensively. "I don't even know where to start." 

"Anywhere," I said. 

Shae huffed and thought for a second. 

"You know what happened at school yesterday?" 

I shook my head. 

"Sandy just started dating that guy John from the football team. She's 
wanted to be a cheerleader for basically forever. She tries out every 
year. Do you know what he said when she mentioned tryouts next spring?" 

I suffered through the dramatic pause. "What?" 

"He laughed in her face and said she was too fat to be a cheerleader. 
Right there in the hallway with everyone watching." 

"Jeez, that's cold," I muttered. 

She began ticking her fingers. "Rebecca's boyfriend stood her up for a 
date and then acted like nothing happened. Val's been depressed because 
that essay she worked really hard on was rejected for the essay contest. 
She was really upset. Ben just shrugged and said she should try again 
next year. Karen had this great science project her teacher was helping 
her with, but she just dropped it. Her boyfriend said he didn't want to 
date a dork." 

She stood up and began to pace, looking mad just from talking about it. 
I wondered where she was going with this. I could never keep up with the 
drama from Shae's circle of friends. 

"Look, I'm not stupid. Some of the guys at school are ok, but most are 
jerks. They're not like YOU." She stopped and folded her arms again. "My 
friends don't get to go dancing or go to fancy restaurants. They don't 
get presents like new clothes just because. They don't have someone who 
hugs them and listens and tells them they'll do better next time. They 
don't have someone that tells them they're special and then makes them 
BELIEVE it. Not like YOU. 

She finally stopped pacing and whirled around. 

"And do you know what all these girls DO when they get together?" she 
suddenly yelled. "They make fun of ME for not having a boyfriend! Like 
I'm some freak! And I want to tell them that my boyfriend doesn't tell 
me I'm fat! That you don't just take me somewhere cheap for a date and 
then ignore me the rest of the time! That they're idiots and they're 
WRONG and my Daddy is my boyfriend, that I LOVE you and you're amazing 
and..." 

She stopped and stood there, cheeks burning, stiff with embarrassment, 
then stalked into the living room. I got up and followed. Shae had 
plopped onto the couch and was holding her head in her hands, dejected. 

"It's really hard for me too Shae." The couch bounced as I dropped 
beside her. "Don't you think I want to tell everyone I know about you? I 
can show them the picture in my wallet and say 'this is my daughter', 
and then I have to stop. I can't tell them how sweet you are, how great 
it feels to see you smile, how much I care for you and what we share 
together." Emotion was cracking my voice too. "The people I work with, 
they've seen your picture a million times. They say I never stop talking 
about you, but they'd never understand. Every day I want to scream it at 
them so I don't have to hide it. I want to go down to your school and 
tell your stupid friends how much we love each other, and show them too. 
Give them a nice demonstration until their eyeballs pop out." 

I was hoping she'd laugh, but she didn't. She wouldn't even look at me. 

"Stop treating me like a kid," she whispered, then raised her voice over 
my protests. "Stop treating me like I'm STUPID! Remember those work 
friends you had over for dinner? Mary and her husband? They wouldn't 
shut up about how they had a girl on the way. Same with that guy you're 
always watching soccer games with from work. He proposed to his 
girlfriend. You told him how happy you were for him. And my math 
teacher, the new one, she was practically bubbling all week! She kept 
showing off her ring to the whole class, said her fiancé got it for 
her. That's what people do, they grow up and get married. Even the 
idiots at my school will probably figure it out. THEY'LL grow up, and 
THEY'LL get married, and THEY'LL have kids, and they won't have to HIDE 
it." 

I was frozen, like watching a train wreck about to happen and powerless 
to stop it. Shae had never talked like this. 

"Remember Beth and Caleb?" she asked. 

Somehow I managed a nod. 

"They're both 20. They only met a couple years ago, but they got 
married. She's already pregnant." 

There was an iciness to her voice, and I could already see the answers 
hurtling along the tracks towards me. 

"We've been together longer than they have." 

There it was, the black, rotten core of what was troubling her. It hit 
like a freight train against my chest. A friend from school had invited 
Shae to her older sister's wedding, and I had taken her. Distractions, 
work, our move - I hadn't even thought about it since that day. She had 
been giddy during the ceremony but morose by the time we got home. Now I 
remembered. That was when it had started. What an idiot, to think she 
was mad just because of my new job. She probably was, but that just 
obscured the real problem. 

"That's what people do," she muttered, hopping off the couch and 
beginning to pace again. "Grow up. Get married." The ice had melted into 
smoldering anger. "Have kids. Or they just get tired of each other and 
break up." 

There was some part of me far away, screaming at the unfolding disaster, 
but I couldn't make it come out as anything more than a helpless wheeze 
from my chest. 

"But it's ok. I know a lot of people who've broken up." Her voice sped 
up, rising in pitch, curling into choking anger. "You're probably tired 
of me by now. It's ok." She burst into tears and began shouting, as if 
she needed to give each lie more volume to make herself believe it. "I 
was probably never really good enough for you anyway! I'm pretty boring 
really. That's why you work all the time. That's why you told me I could 
try someone else if I wanted. It's ok!" 

She whirled around, a 5-foot wisp, thin as a rail, hurt, furious, eyes 
blazing. I cowered under her wrath. 

"You really deserve someone better anyway! Someone who can cook and 
isn't stupid about books and who knows what you're saying when you say 
something in French!" 

She slammed her fist ineffectually against my chest in desperation. 
"Or...or in German" She hit me again. "Or all those other languages 
you...that you..." I grabbed her wrists. She was out of control, 
sobbing, hysterical. "Someone pre-prettier who knows about b-bank stuff 
and history and trading like you're always talking about! And, and 
s-s-soccer and..." 

She jerked against my grip a last time, words sputtering through her 
hitching chest. 

"I c-can't even get you to cum inside me unless you're s-sure I've taken 
my pill." 

She broke down completely, sagging against me and bawling 
uncontrollably, shattered. My arms went around her, crushing her into a 
hug, leaning back on the couch and pulling the tiny girl all the way up 
into a crying ball on my lap. How could I have let things get so bad? 
What an idiot I was, what a failure, as her father and her lover. 
Neglect might have cost me everything. I held her head against my chest 
and rocked her back and forth, a weeping, shaking bundle of arms and 
legs, naked under the thin fabric of my oversized t-shirt. All I could 
hope for was that I could find the pieces of what I had shared with this 
vulnerable little girl and somehow put them back together. 

                                  ~*~                                  

My daughter had curled up in my lap, head resting against my stomach, 
calmed to somber sniffles and only the occasional hiccup. I was resting 
back against the couch, a numb shell, with one hand on her shoulder and 
the other stroking her long hair. Motes of dust danced in the wide beam 
of sunlight from the window, swirling in front of us, detritus from a 
storm that seemed to have passed over and through us and left the room 
in shattered silence. 

"When was the last time we went out for Daddy-daughter day?" I asked 
softly. 

"Hmmm." She stirred against me and adjusted her legs. "A few months I 
guess. Not sure." 

"Four months," I said, after thinking for a minute. "In November. We 
went to that movie at the theater with the endless nachos deal." 

"Yeah. They threatened to kick us out after the second movie." 

"And you said if they did, you at least wanted some nachos to go," I 
remembered. 

The memory hung palpably in the air, dancing in the still sunlight, just 
a brief connection - but something, at least. We had been sitting for a 
while, gently feeling around the raw edges of our wounds. The sunshine 
had shifted slowly, falling onto the couch cushion and edging Shae's 
hair with golden fire. 

"Sorry about that." I stroked her hair where the sun had warmed it. "I 
miss doing that. I've missed you a lot." 

"I know you had to work." Her fingernail scratched a idle track against 
my leg. 

And those stupid pills. I hadn't even asked her. Just "here you go. Take 
them." What the fuck had I been thinking? I hadn't been thinking. It had 
just seemed obvious. It had been a Red Christmas and I had barely any 
time for her so I just got her the things she would need. Overworked, 
distracted, again. 

"The pills too. I'm sorry about that Shae." My hand tightened on her 
shoulder. I needed her to believe me. 

"Yeah. I mean, I know we have to..." 

She trailed off, leaving the 'but' unvoiced. The elephant in the room. 

"Daddy. I know you did all this stuff, the new house, taking the new 
job, everything else..." Her fingers tugged nervously at the leg of my 
boxers. "I know you did it for us so we could be together and not worry 
about people seeing us. I'm sorry. It was so exciting at first. We could 
do stuff all the time together, we could do whatever we wanted. I saw 
you working all the time and I felt like a jerk because why should I be 
complaining about anything? School is an hour longer now and I have to 
take the bus home so you'd always be busy by the time I got home, and... 
it just seemed like you didn't care. 

I let out a long breath. Every girl had to learn her Daddy wasn't 
perfect at some point. I just wished it hadn't hurt her so much to find 
out. 

"Sometimes I'll screw up, Shae. Sometimes I'll screw up bad. We both 
will, but stop thinking that means we're like your friends. What makes 
us different is that we'll talk about it and get through it. To do that 
we need to be open with each other. To communicate. Please don't ever 
shut me out like that again. We have to talk to each other, even when it 
hurts. ESPECIALLY when it hurts. That's when it matters the most." 

I had expected too much, forgotten that I was the first and only 
relationship my 13-year-old daughter had ever had. This stuff wasn't 
obvious to her. 

"Do you understand, honey?" I asked. She nodded her head uncomfortably 
on my lap. "Maybe it sounds corny, but this matters." 

She opened her mouth to say something, then closed it and nodded again. 

"Shae." I patted her shoulder encouragingly. "Don't hold stuff in. 
Please say it." 

"I was..." she mumbled. 

"What?" 

She rolled her head, blue eyes looking up at me. 

"I *was* trying to tell you." 

"Oh..." I swallowed. "When?" 

"Remember when you had that meeting?" 

I had had lots of meetings every day for months, but for her sake I 
rested back on the couch and really tried to think. The lawyers, every 
day. My own team. Usually our Japanese clients too, board members and 
stockholders from Sony, Yamaha, Toshiba, dozens of others. Shae was 
always asleep, except she had showed up once in her green dressing gown 
trying to tell me something in the middle of a meeting. Fuck. 

She must have seen the recognition in my face. "Also, when you were 
watching the games." She looked down again. "But you seemed like you 
were having such a good time." 

Sheesh. The FIFA qualifiers. I had taped them and watched them late into 
the night for a week, the only real break I had had in months. Shae had 
kept falling asleep on the couch with me with her head in my lap, just 
like it was now. So that was it: a door shut in her face, a shush so I 
could hear a ref's ruling. More things I had missed. 

"Sorry honey," I muttered. "Sometimes, you'll have to make me listen." 

"Ok." Her mumble was half-hearted. 

"No." I cupped her chin, made her look up at me again. "Not good enough. 
Promise me Shae, that if something is really important to you, that you 
will stop me, and you will tell me it's important, and you will make me 
listen. Don't keep silent. This has to go both ways." 

"Ok Daddy." Her eyes were looking up into mine, searching. "I promise." 

I cupped her head and bent down to give my daughter in a kiss, feeling 
her lips part, feeling them push back with heated breath, a gentle 
invitation so familiar to me. It was like seeing the sun again, inhaling 
the sweet smell of her breath, fingers brushing the smooth skin of her 
stomach and then dipping lower until her squirming thighs clamped 
eagerly around my hand. I savored my daughter's delights a few moments 
more, pressing and squeezing until she had wiggled onto her back on the 
couch, then we broke. 

"We'll work on things until we're both happy again Shae." I squeezed my 
hand around hers. "And we'll do it together, not alone. One step at a 
time." 

"Yeah." The sun had crept across the cushion, edging her face in light 
and painting gold across the tangled rivers of her hair. "Thanks Daddy," 
she said. She seemed a little better, the miserable frown melting from 
her face. 

"Whatever we need to do, we'll do it together," I repeated, looking in 
her eyes to gauge her reaction. "Do you WANT to get married?" 

"OH!" She jerked in my lap suddenly. "I mean, I guess, er, I hadn't 
really uh..." Her throat flushed crimson. "I don't know. I hadn't 
thought about it Daddy," she lied. 

"Shae, be honest. We promised." 

She looked down at her toes, ashamed. 

"You have a stack of bridal magazines a foot high." 

"They're just for skirt patterns!" she insisted, bristling. 

"And you don't clear your browser history." 

Her mouth closed mid-protest, a frightened look on her face like a 
cornered animal. She had made a promise and didn't expect I would hold 
her to it so quickly. 

"Pronovias makes gorgeous dresses," I said. "I don't know if they'd make 
one so small, but they might if we ordered it through the agency. I'll 
bet you could make it work too. You're getting really good at 
alterations." 

Her face was burning, looking away. I thought she was going to curl up 
into a ball again. 

"Shae, please, look at me." She did. "It's ok, you don't have to be 
ashamed with me, ever. You've been looking for a couple years. I know 
you've been thinking about it. I'VE been thinking about it, and 
everything else too. I just didn't know what to do about it." 

Her cheek was a hot flush of smooth skin under my fingers. She stared up 
at me, uncertainty written in her expression, the vulnerable face of my 
adoring daughter that I had cared for and loved in every way a man 
could. I couldn't let her be scared anymore. 

"You'd be cute as a bride," I smiled. 

The pause was interminable. I had left the door wide open. I needed her 
to meet me halfway. 

"I guess..." she swallowed nervously. "I guess I can't decide if I 
should get one with a long skirt or not." 

"You'll look great no matter what you pick. I'll need a new suit 
though." 

"It's only the shoulders that don't fit you anymore. I could fix it." 

"We could have a buffet of nachos, your favorite," I joked. 

"I saw some bouquet suggestions in one of those magazines. Blue and 
white. Hydrangeas. It would be great." 

"You have to promise not to grab me in the crotch at the altar." 

"Uh-uh. Can't promise that." It was coming easier now, Shae finally 
beginning to smile again. "Hey would you want a dress with a veil?" 

"I'd love one. It would be really easy to print the invitations," I 
smirked. "It would just say 'Watts' on it. You wouldn't even have to 
change your name." 

"Yeah, but we couldn't invite anyone..." 

And that was it, right out there in the open, the big, ugly face of 
reality standing in our way. 

"No...we couldn't." I admitted. 

"I wouldn't even be able to invite my friends," she muttered glumly, 
looking down and frowning again, her delight dying before it could take 
root. 

Clouds had begun to block the sun outside, leaving only a dismal light 
from the windows, a fitting atmosphere for our uneasy silence. I had 
gone over this time and time again in my head, never confessing to my 
daughter. What could I say? It always ended helplessly at that awful, 
insurmountable truth. Or worse. 

"Nobody here would ever marry us," I whispered. 

"I know", she said, stiffening against me again. 

"We couldn't even get a license." 

"I know." 

I was losing her again. The gloom had sapped her smile and replaced it 
with that dour frown that I hated so much. 

"Not here anyway." I let the thought linger in the air. "So we go 
somewhere else." 

"There's nowhere we could go Daddy." 

"It's a big world Shae." A sort-of plan was coming together. Our friend 
Nicholas, the head of Select Petites and a man with shared interests, 
had mentioned this tangentially to me once. I would tap him, see what he 
could suggest. 

"We'd have to give up the house," I said, thinking out loud. "Change our 
names." 

"I know," she said. 

"Our friends. Everyone, actually. Someone might come looking." 

"I know." I could feel her squeezing my hand. 

"My job, obviously. I'd have to work in another industry. I could never 
risk meeting anyone I know now." 

"I know." 

Maybe that was it. Maybe there was a way out. I rested my head back on 
the couch, trying to wrap my head around it. 

"You'd have to give up modelling." 

"I KNOW!" 

I looked down and froze. She was furious, crushing my hand until I 
thought she would break it. 

"You think I haven't THOUGHT about that? I'm not stupid Daddy. Your job. 
My school. I know. The modelling. The house. I know. The car, I know. 
Maybe everything we own, I know. Leave all my friends, move somewhere 
far away, I know. I can sell my clothes and do more jobs at SP if we 
need to until we're ready. Daddy I don't CARE about any of that as much 
as I care about you, and I used to love looking at those magazines but 
now if I pick one up I just think that if we even tried, they'd take you 
away Daddy and...and they'd throw you in prison and put me somewhere 
miserable and then I'll never see you again, they wouldn't even let me 
visit and then I'd want to die and..." 

I grabbed her, hugged her as another sob ripped out of her throat, 
whispering in her ear to keep her from falling apart again. She was so 
fragile. I had let this go on for too long, longer than she could bear. 
Something had to give. 

"That's not going to happen. Shae, sweetie." She sniffled in my arms as 
I slowly rocked her. "I'm right here. Shhhhhh, nobody's going to take me 
away." 

The tears melted away, slowly, Shae finally settling down in my arms, 
her hands clutching nervously at the fabric of my underwear again like 
she thought I would vanish from the couch. 

"Remember what I said?" I wiped a tear out of the corner of her eye. 
"We'll do it..." 

She snivelled once. "We'll do it together." 

"And one step at at a time. Don't think about all that at once. It's 
overwhelming. I don't know how we'll do it all, but we will." 

And I had no idea how, but at least I could see the start of the path, 
just a few simple steps, leading to a few more, and then more. I wasn't 
helpless. I had a bit of wealth and some powerful and sympathetic 
friends, and a little girl worth doing anything for, risking anything 
for. One step after the other, and the very first one was lying in my 
lap. I had to make things up to her. We could get started right now. 

I brushed her hair back from her cheek and used my thumb to scrub away 
the trail her tears had left. Everything in me was irrevocably tied up 
in this thin little girl with her head resting on my lap, wearing 
nothing more than an oversized t-shirt of thin grey cotton. I would 
never have had it any other way. Even if the police knocked down my 
walls and dragged me away and threw me in the darkest hole they could 
find, I would never regret a single moment spent with my daughter, and 
when my fingers finally coaxed a smile back to her face, like some 
long-lost treasure surfacing from the deeps, I knew that she would 
always feel the same. 

My fingers dipped from her cheeks, down the slender neck still slightly 
flushed, past the bare shoulders sticking out from the drooping shirt. 
The smooth skin and sun-warmed hair, the growing smile, the faint push 
of her body against mine - all the lovely sensations of my baby girl 
opened up to me, her skin tingling and relaxing under her Daddy's magic 
fingers, arm brushing mine as she rubbed a hand on my chest, thighs 
beginning to show the familiar press and wiggle of her stirring desire. 
I bent and kissed her forehead, stroking a thumb against it, then kissed 
her cheek, tasting salt. Hot breathed stirred against my chin, then 
against my lips as I moved down and pressed a hungry kiss against her 
mouth. She pushed back eagerly, sucking my lower lip and pinching it 
with her teeth, a certain desperation conveyed in the brief nibble of a 
craving that had gone too long without being truly fulfilled. 

Cotton rustled as I pushed the shirt lower, sliding the sleeve down her 
arm and slipping my fingers around the delightful mounds they found, 
squeezing the soft slopes of my daughter's tiny breasts in a hungry 
grip. Shae would probably never have a large chest, and that was just 
how I liked it. The budding swells of her 13-year-old tits were soft 
putty capped with perfect pink nubs that fit my fingers like they had 
been made for nothing else. I gave one a twist and a pinch, sparking the 
expected jerk and the long moan deep in her throat, muffled by my mouth 
writing against hers. 

I was going to make it good for her. I was going to make it RIGHT, 
damnit. My fingers and lips conducted the growing arousal of my 
daughter's body in perfect symphony, using every trick of their 
practiced technique. I slipped a hand lower, around her hip, pulling her 
up at an angle and sliding down the cotton to the perky little mound of 
her exposed buttcheek, gripping it tightly. When I was done with her, 
there would never be the slightest doubt in any part of her body how 
much her Daddy loved her. My squeezing fingers relented and dipped lower 
into the sweet cleft between my daughter's legs, finding the dewy crack 
and earning another long, muted moan deep in her throat when they 
explored the slippery landscape. 

She lurched, I held her. She sagged and then pushed back again, and I 
squeezed her. She scratched a fingernail through my chest hairs, and I 
bore down on her pussy, slipping along the lips with growing pressure 
until I reached the delicious little bud at the top, making her fingers 
curl reflexively. I had put my cock in my little baby girl when she was 
7, first her mouth, then her pussy, and she made me the happiest man on 
the planet with love in her eyes the whole time. The connection we 
forged was unbreakable, built on the strongest of foundations: a love 
between a father and his daughter. Since then I had always felt her 
passion like a shared echo, radiating up to me through some hidden bond. 
I could make her purr, make her pant, make her squeal or even scream, 
string her along or send her straight into a crashing climax. She moved, 
and I moved with her, like one body. Her thighs clamped reflexively, so 
I retreated to rub her stomach and hips, then broke our kiss so I could 
lean down farther and wrap my lips around her nipple, sucking on it and 
flicking it with my tongue. My little girl's mounting pleasure was a 
melody to which I wove a rising counterpoint, feeling it swell in her 
arching back and shaking legs. 

I lifted her head up and rolled out from under her. I needed more 
leverage. She loved my fingers but I wanted to give her something even 
better. I switched to her other side, getting up onto my knees on the 
cushion, revelling in the sight of my daughter laying on her back on the 
couch in front of me, sweaty, panting, head jerking nervously on a 
pillow of tangled hair. I bent forward to help her push the shirt all 
the way up past her chest, pooling the fabric around her shoulders, then 
stroked my hands down the long, unbroken stretch of naked skin from her 
breasts to her navel and curving hips, then moved up her legs so I could 
push them farther apart and bend down between them. 

Dew beaded the outer rim of her pussy lips and trickled into a tiny 
stream down below. I bent to catch it with my tongue, sliding up and 
along my daughter's flaring sex, musky juice pooling up until I reached 
the tip and spread it with my fingers so my tongue could dart in and 
give her clit with a teasing flick. She went wild, thighs clamping 
around my ears, waist twitching, squeaking from her Daddy's expert 
ministrations. My finger reached her little tunnel and tested the 
waters, then slipped inside the sucking warmth, finding her almost there 
already. Not surprising I guess. Shae was always excitable, and her 
passions had been running high all morning. Eager heat radiated from her 
pussy as I slipped a second finger in beside the first. 

My 13-year-old daughter's pussy was tight as a drum, but I knew every 
inch, had explored it with endless delight for 7 years. Fingers hunting, 
I inched upward and found the hotspot of passion just where I knew it 
would be, just after her sucking lips had slipped over my second 
knuckle. A tiny tickle, a brief arch of my digits, and Shae exploded, 
hips jerking towards me, fingers curling into fists in my hair as a long 
moan shuddered rapturously deep in her throat. It was time to bring the 
music of my daughter's desire to a crescendo. Suction swirled in 
delighted circles around my fingers, urging, begging, imploring me with 
the hungry clasp of muscles to dive deeper. I did, sinking farther and 
then pulling against the current to establish a gentle rhythm of 
thrusting fingers in her cunt, while my tongue and other hand traded off 
playing with her clit, massaging and tapping and gently flicking the shy 
red bud until her whole body lurched with a wild shriek. 

I rode with her over the cliff into the wild storm of pleasure, feeling 
the pink surges that spiraled up from the pressure of her Daddy's 
fingers in her cunt as jerks that thumped her thighs against my head and 
wiggled her hips like a frantic animal. The flesh of her own tiny tit 
was squeezing under her fingers, knuckles white, the other hand 
wrenching my scalp until I was sure I would lose some hair. Shae 
orgasmed fiercely on the couch, back arching, shrieking an ecstatic aria 
that filled the room and then faltered slowly down to an erratic series 
of treble squeals before ebbing to a panting, moaning, shaking aftermath 
that left her tiny body quivering on the couch in a slackened stupor. 

Leaving my fingers buried deep in the velvet vice, I raised myself up 
over my naked daughter to give her a kiss, using the slick fluid coating 
my lips and chin to give her a generous taste of the fruits of her own 
excitement. 

"Oh God, Daddy..." Shae heaved breathlessly when we broke. Her fingers 
slid up my cheeks and twined together behind my neck, pulling me down 
roughly for another kiss as though the three inches of space between us 
was too much to bear. My chest was tingling, hairs brushing the soft 
skin of her breasts and curling around her poking nipples. "I just don't 
know..." she gasped when we broke again, "how you make that...so 
good...every time." A moist sheen was on her cheeks, the confluence of 
drying tears, saliva, and the nectar from her sweet spot down below. I 
brushed it away and smiled at her, bathing in the deep blue pools of her 
satisfied gaze. 

"I just think about how much I want to make you happy." I squeezed her 
tiny breast and trailed my fingers down her stomach. "The rest just 
comes." 

I heard the distant sound of my laptop beeping impatiently, far away in 
the kitchen. A lot of people would be wondering where I was. I ignored 
it. 

"Here." I hooked my hands under her armpits and helped her sit up. "I'm 
going to make you happy again baby girl." I pulled off the rumpled 
t-shirt and used my fingers to unsnarl a tangle of long hair so I could 
brush it back over her shoulder. "That was just the start. We're not 
done here until you say we're done." 

"Ok." I knew she could feel the pressing bulge of my underwear pushing 
against her leg as we sat. She looked down at the cotton tent, then back 
up. "You don't have to be so one-sided Daddy. Here." She pushed against 
my leg. "Stand up. Let me make you feel good too." 

I got up like she wanted, and stood in front of her as scooted off the 
couch and got on her knees on the floor. Ten tiny fingertips crawled 
slowly up my legs, enjoying the curve of my calves, then slipped up the 
cotton fabric to curl around the hem of my underwear. My daughter looked 
up at me, a familiar impish gleam growing in her eyes as she locked her 
gaze on mine and slowly pulled. She liked undressing her Daddy, almost 
as much as I liked undressing her. My manhood flexed painfully and then 
spilled out over the edge of the fabric, snapping into position an inch 
from her face. She giggled and butted it playfully with her nose before 
helping me pull my underwear the rest of the way off. 

I could make my daughter cum with a touch, and she could do the same to 
me. Her fingers wrapped expertly around my shaft, squeezing slightly, 
the bouncing motion and rigid velvet texture of her Daddy's familiar 
organ still managing to stir a faint sense of enchantment in her eyes. 
Little girls are always fascinated by a man's penis. They see a bulging 
manhood through the same lens of wonder and mystery that they see the 
rest of life. Shae knew every square inch of the taut flesh under her 
stroking fingers - it had been shoved in her mouth, jammed into her 
butt, and stuffed in her tiny pussy in bed and in private and in public 
and asleep and awake and in every imaginable pounding, thrusting 
variation in between more times than any of us could have counted, and 
still, still the musky scent under her flaring nostrils and the dripping 
glans pressing against her lips seemed to hold a wild, primal 
fascination that drew and captured her attention irresistibly. Nobody 
loved her Daddy's cock like Shae did, and her tongue snaked out to lick 
my tip, catching a taste of precum, preparing to prove it to me once 
again. 

Slippery warmth curled around my head and pushed farther as my daughter 
took me in her mouth, sparking a wave of shivers that rippled up my 
back. Her eyes stayed locked on mine, Shae staring up at her Daddy, 
reading my signs and refusing to look away. It was one of her favorite 
tricks. Nobody could have resisted those deep blue orbs, shining with a 
hungry desire to please as inch upon inch of my erect cock slid into her 
mouth until I was butting up against the back of her throat. Her cheeks 
worked when she stopped, blowing in and out and working to coat the 
rigid meat in her mouth with a flood of gooey saliva. 

I was in heaven. Every father should be so lucky as to have their 
13-year-old daughter's mouth wrapped enthusiastically around their 
bulging cock. Shae clamped down with sucking friction and pulled slowly 
back, inches of fat, glistening meat pulling out of her mouth, then 
reversing and slipping inside as she began a hungry bobbing motion with 
her head. Fingers rippled around the base of my shaft, a tongue snaked 
teasingly under my glans, and her mouth worked eagerly as the sucking 
massage stroked up and down my length. An expert, driving by touch 
alone. She didn't need her eyes to navigate the familiar organ filling 
her mouth. She kept them locked on my face, reading the droop of my 
eyelids, the furrow of my brow, the frequency of my excited panting. 

The hot pleasure swirling in my gut had almost reached a boil when she 
suddenly pulled off and left me waving in the air, catching a gooey drip 
from my tip before it could fall, then settling back on her legs. 

"Daddy," she said, wiping her lips. "Fuck me." She stood up. "For real 
this time." She pressed against me in a hug, trapping my oozing cock 
against her stomach. "Please." 

You could as soon have asked a boulder to stop rolling downhill or a 
freight train to stop hurtling along the tracks as kept me from doing 
anything but stuffing my dick in my daughter and pounding her until she 
screamed right at that moment. I picked her up under the armpits and 
swung her around next to the armchair. She was so light, a delicate 
feather in my hands. She had wound me into overdrive, stoked me to a 
horny boil on the verge of explosion. My hands twisted her shoulders, 
turning her around, then roughly bent her over the armrest and forced 
her head down onto the cushion and held it there. The armrest was wide, 
the fabric soft and comfortable. These wouldn't be the first stains we 
had left on this chair. I jerked my pelvis up against hers, slapping her 
legs against the chair, pushing her butt up more so the angle was right 
and my cock could rub up against the dripping slit of her little pussy. 
A whimper came from deep in the cushion under my iron grip - the good 
whimper, the "do it now" whimper, the hushed, wordless mewl of my 
daughter's craving to have me inside her. 

My hungry cock was poised at her cunt, flexing against the tiny hole. 
She wanted me, and she was going to get me. No more closed doors, no 
more empty beds at night. Never again. Whenever she needed me, I would 
satisfy her, like a good father should. I had got her every gift that 
money could buy, delighted in every second, and ended up neglecting the 
one thing she really wanted. It might have cost me everything, but now I 
was going to make it right. 

Pink lips flexed and flared and spread wide around my penetrating girth, 
flushed visitors welcoming me to the steaming tunnel of gripping warmth 
beneath. I pushed impatiently, burying the head, sinking an inch into 
the glorious tightness, then another, relishing my baby girl's insides. 
It's like coming home, pushing into your own daughter's cunt, like 
finding the perfect warmth of a sweet paradise formed and grown and 
molded solely for you and nobody else, waiting patiently its entire 
existence to draw you inside it and lavish you with every comfort and 
wild pleasure you could have ever conceived. Pussy muscles spasmed 
around my girth. Thighs trembled in shock against mine as the turgid 
invader penetrated her body and pushed recklessly inside. My baby girl 
vibrated under my weight, my clenching grip, her little body a twig on 
the verge of snapping. Her bottom looked so small under me, quivering 
around the engorged shaft. Her waist was tiny compared to mine. She was 
less than half my weight, a kitten shivering delicately under a bull. 
Ravenously, I took it all in. I was going to fuck my little girl 
senseless. 

Stiff flesh prickled and flashed as I began a long, slow stroke into my 
baby girl, working more of my mammoth length into the little twat, 
pushing a bit farther as she loosened up. The sweet warmth opened up 
inside, parting grudgingly, then squeezing back in gratitude as I 
plunged into the depths. The end of a long stroke brought her bottom 
against my pelvis with a wet slapping sound, balls thumping against her 
thigh. I savored it, savored her, the little moan from deep in the 
cushion matching the pattern of hungry spasms of her pussy around my 
cock. 

I pulled back and thrust again, then again, sliding my prick in rapid 
motions into my daughter's clenching tunnel. My eyeballs rolled greedily 
from the slapping globes of her butt down the long, smooth stretch of 
her arching back to the root of her hair where my hand had locked her 
against the cushion. God she was lovely. No little girl had ever teased 
and wiggled and posed and squealed and bent over and kneeled down and 
sucked and fucked and bounced and goaded her Daddy into a wild twisting 
knot of pleasure like my baby girl had done for me. Enthralled. 
Beguiled. Infatuated. No word was too harsh to capture the inflamed 
obsession of my passionate love for the sweet little girl I had 
conceived and cared for and loved as deeply and thoroughly as any man 
could. I bounced her against the chair, ramming my bursting cock into 
the luscious heat. Not far off now. Neither of us were. The feedback 
loop of pumping, spasming muscles sent us both soaring on a shared 
rocket of wild sparks up into a booming stratosphere of pink lightning 
that thundered through our blood and into the pounding flashpoint where 
our bodies connected. 

Breathing raggedly, ramming my prick desperately into her cunt, I bent 
down to whisper in her ear. 

"I'm gonna cum inside you baby girl." 

"Thoo et." I let her head up so she could talk. 

"Do it Daddy." She turned her head back and arched her neck, cheek 
beating against the cushion from the hammerblows of my cock into her 
bottom. "Please." Her fingers were twitching, curling, tearing tiny 
threads from the cushion's fabric. "Cum in me Daddy," she begged. 

The intensity in her eyes was the spark that ignited a wildfire of 
raving lust in my crotch. I reared back and drove it home, banging my 
daughter's pelvis against the chair with a furious, crazed abandon. I 
could feel it, deep inside, the mounting energy of a cresting tidal wave 
that would flood my fertile daughter with the juice of life. The 
decision was easy. I made it in a heartbeat and never looked back. A 
baby had always been a distant possibility, lurking where I refused to 
entertain it. I hadn't even realized how I had ignored it. People would 
talk. There would be questions about a pregnant 13-year-old. Lots of 
questions. But damn them, I'd do anything for this. Anything for her. 
Let them see how much we loved each other. Let them gawk and scream and 
point. Shae was looking back at me, her expression glazed with euphoria. 
I saw the trust there. I hadn't lost it. That sweet, innocent, 
vulnerable faith and conviction that she was safe in her Daddy's arms, 
that I would always be there for her even when things were strained, 
filling her up with love and everything else she needed. 

Roaring lightning seized me in its grip at the same time I heard my 
daughter scream. I bottomed out, slamming against her cervix as the 
volcano of frothing white lava erupted in my balls and rocketed upwards 
into her belly. Our bodies snapped together, howling, twisting in 
violent ecstasy, father and daughter joined together in a carnal bond of 
fervent joy, sharing breath, sharing joy, sharing our hearts and minds 
and the vital essences of our bodies deep inside, hot spurts of gushing 
fluid filling my girl and planting the seeds of our forbidden love 
inside her. Cyclone suction whirled and sucked the seed from my prick 
and milked each live-giving squirt, paying me back with rapture, until 
my vibrating senses tapered off to a needle point of ringing haze and my 
cock gave up a final spew and began to wilt in in my little girl's 
pussy. 

There was a warm body beneath me, but beyond that I was sure of nothing 
at all. I drifted in a vision: my pounding cock piledriving a flood of 
rich semen into my daughter's womb, the thick batter squeezing in and 
coating every wall and fold of her insides. A billion tiny strands of 
sperm, seeping deeper into the temple, branching out and searching with 
maddening intensity for their treasure, dashing themselves to pieces 
until one tiny soldier claimed victory and grew into a cherished gift in 
my daughter's body until her belly swelled like a canteloupe. I wanted 
it. I hadn't even realized how much I did until now. Shae stirred 
against me, snuggling her head against my chest. We were on our sides, 
spooning on the wide armchair, legs splayed over the side. 

Time passed unremarked by us both, my naked daughter's warm back pressed 
up against me. Occasionally I heard a beep from my laptop, announcing 
another email. Irrelevant now. The only thing I cared for was the warm 
bundle of satisfied girl in my arms. My mind was clearing up, the 
post-coital bliss from ejaculating into my daughter finally fading away. 

The clock ticked its oblivious metronome, arms marching in circles as I 
cuddled my daughter. They curved the same sweeps, passed the same spots, 
rising and falling, getting nowhere. From one obstacle to the next, 
round and round, coming up against the same impossibilities over and 
over. Circles. We'd have to find some way. My daughter and I needed a 
miracle, and those were in short supply. 

Shae finally stirred. "Thanks Daddy. Love you." She gave me a kiss, 
brief but enthusiastic, then slipped off the chair and padded naked over 
the carpet. I sat up, feeling like I couldn't get my bearings, unable to 
focus. Circles, again. A hopeless, unthinkable ring of insurmountable 
problems. How to move money, how to get identification, citizenship, a 
marriage license. A house. A sympathetic doctor. How does someone 
disappear and start over and ensure they can't be followed? I didn't 
know. 

But maybe there was a way. I tried to relegate the inconceivable to the 
back of my mind and focus on what remained. I'd have to travel, that was 
for sure. I'd never trust a place unless I had already been there, lived 
there, made sure it was safe for my daughter. The house and car and 
other assets could be held in trust until they could be liquidated. Nick 
would help me there, I was sure. He was fabulously wealthy and his 
accountants could probably pull off any miracle. 

The microwave beeped from the kitchen and began to hum. The other parts 
I didn't know how to solve. Where could a man possibly find a place to 
marry his 13-year-old daughter and live out in the open with no secrets? 
Fantasy. Even if we did find such a place, how would we live? I heard 
Shae open the microwave and put something on a plate. I believed her if 
she said she'd give up everything, but I couldn't see her ever really 
being happy in poverty. Maybe I was wrong though. 

She reappeared, naked, unconcerned by the semen drying on her thighs, 
bearing a plate of reheated French Toast. She plopped down next to me, 
resting her head on me like a pillow, and handed me a piece. 

A long silence passed. I chewed, untasting, staring out the window at 
the waves of the beach and thinking. 

A plate thumped on the cushion. My sixth sense tingled, and I looked 
down at Shae, saw her staring up at me. 

"When?" she asked. 

No elaboration was needed, but I had no answers. There were just too 
many variables. It was overwhelming. One step at a time. Just one. I 
made a decision. 

"Come on," I said, getting up. I walked through the kitchen to the 
laundry room and pulled out the sweatsuit I used for jogging, and a 
loose blouse and skirt for Shae. 

"Daddy?" Shae trailed uncertainly into the laundry room behind me. 

"Here, put these on," I said. I yanked on my pants and jacket, then went 
back to the kitchen for the other thing I needed, slipping it deep into 
my pocket so it wouldn't rattle. 

"Are we going somewhere?" Shae came out of the laundry room, dressed and 
confused. 

"Walk with me sweetie." I pulled open the back door and gestured, 
following her outside to the deck and then shutting it behind us. 

I was antsy. The walk would do me good, clear my head. We climbed down 
to the sandy littoral and I rested my hand on her shoulder as we walked 
along the path of wooden planks to the pier. More clouds had moved in, 
darkening the sky, filling the sea with a chilly wind that blew Shae's 
long hair out behind her. The ocean seemed placid compared to the tumult 
we had been through, lazy waves sloshing around the wooden supports of 
the pier as we walked out onto the dark water. 

We reached the end and stared out into the ocean together. We had 
watched the sunset here several times. Now there was just a murky 
blackness looming in front of us, a distant menace still unheard and 
unfelt, promising a storm to come. 

"I have a lot to apologize for," I began. "I'll start here." 

I crouched down next to her, then pulled out the bottle of birth-control 
pills and put them in her hand. She almost recoiled, but I pushed the 
bottle into her open palm. 

"I'm sorry I did this without talking to you. That was stupid of me. I 
promise I won't make decisions like this for both of us ever again." 

Shae held the bottle, looking uncertain, the mounting wind rippling her 
blouse and skirt and scattering her hair. 

"It wasn't my choice to make like that, so I'll turn it around." My hand 
covered hers and curled her fingers around it, so she was holding it 
tight. 

"These are yours, Shae. You can do whatever you want with them." 

"Oh." She was biting her lip, looking down at the orange cylinder in her 
hand. "You won't make me take them?" 

I shook my head. "I won't make you do anything. This is your choice. I 
want YOU to tell me 'when', and we'll figure out the rest together. 

She swallowed, lips pursed nervously, still looking down. 

"Whatever I want?" Her voice was thin on the wind. 

"Yes Shae. Whatever you want. Whenever you choose." 

She didn't hesitate for a heartbeat. Long hair flipped and swirled 
behind her as she turned and threw the pills as hard as she could. Shae 
had an athletic build but wasn't keen on sports. Too much structure and 
waiting. But she had never hurled anything in her life so hard or with 
such determined vehemence as she flung that pill bottle against the wind 
and out into the waters of the ocean. It arced high through the air, 
spinning, then landed far out with a tiny plop in the water. 

She whirled around and wrapped me in a hug before I could even say 
anything, hiccuping, tears forming in the corners of her eyes. It was 
her choice to make, but it was exactly what I had hoped for. 

She kept one arm wrapped tightly around me as we walked back, like she 
would never let go. I was thinking again. I'd call Shae's school and 
tell them she had the flu. Then I'd call my work and tell them I quit. 
I'd call Nicholas and we'd get together and have a private talk about 
matters very personal to both us. I could cash out all my investments, 
put every dollar towards finding a way for us to escape, to live as 
ourselves. It would take a lot of work. I'd have to travel. I'd probably 
be away from home a lot. 

But every moment in between, I would be laying my daughter down on our 
bed, or pushing her onto her hands and knees with her butt in the air, 
or just bending her over whatever piece of furniture was nearest and 
ramming my cock into her until she hollered and I left another warm 
deposit of baby juice deep in her womb. The pills would wear off soon. 
It was what she wanted, what we both wanted. My baby girl had made me 
the happiest father in the world when she was 7, and now it was my turn 
to fulfill everything she wanted, to pump her full of her Daddy's semen 
and keep her full until her belly began to swell with the first faint 
bump of our child. 

The future wouldn't always be perfect, and we couldn't guarantee that we 
would never hurt each other again. Such promises couldn't be kept, but 
at least we had a better idea of where we were going and how we would 
have to grow to get there. I didn't know how we would solve the problems 
that would inevitably face us, but I had no doubt that my future was 
with Shae, and it was a future filled with wonderful possibilities. 
Things would be tough, but we would tackle them together, and with my 
daughter standing with me, the love of my life, I was certain we could 
overcome anything.