Archive-name: dyad

From: suelmann@forwiss.uni-passau.de (Michael Suelmann)

Subject: Repost/Michael K. Smith: Dyad

Newsgroups: alt.sex.stories

From: mksmith@metronet.com (Michael K. Smith)

I hate it when people make excuses about things but I really think part of the reason all this happened was that I had just broken up with Joshua. We'd been going together for most of our sophomore year, but then he started flirting with other girls, especially the cheerleaders. And one Friday night we had a big fight about it, that and some other things, and we broke up. It was very upsetting, even though I knew beforehand that it might happen if I complained about him flirting, but he said some pretty mean things to me, comparing me to other girls he knew.
Of course, he was angry and defensive and I knew he would probably regret most of what he'd said, but Joshua has too much pride to take it back and I have to much pride to ignore it. So I was angry, too, and I yelled just as loudly at him as he did at me, but when I got home I went right to bed and cried for hours.
Mom looked in on me once and I gave her the sixty-second version in between sniffles, and then she left and shut my door very quietly, which I really appreciated. No matter what people say, talking about something doesn't always help.
The next morning I slept in pretty late, which is unusual for me because I hate to waste my weekends. Since Mom knew about the break-up, at least in a general sort of way, she didn't wake me before leaving to play golf with three of her girlfriends. She even sent my kid sister, Angela, off to play at a friend's house so she wouldn't bug me. I have to admit, for a mother, she's pretty good at that sort of thing.
When I finally got out of bed, I went and stared at myself in the bathroom mirror. My face looked absolutely terrible, all red and blotchy and puffy. That didn't do my ego any good, especially after what Joshua had said.
Still wearing just the tee-shirt I usually sleep in, I went out in the hall and listened silently at the top of the stairs. My father was making little domestic noises down in the kitchen. He's a corporate financial planner and a lot of the time, when out-of-town clients are visiting, he has to work Saturdays meeting with them. So when he *doesn't* have to work Saturdays, he likes to just putter around, making French toast and omelets. He says it's very relaxing. Really, for weekend breakfasts, Daddy's a much better cook than Mom. He even cleans up the mess.
Just now, he was whistling softly and tunelessly. I didn't think I could handle that much cheerfulness yet so I tiptoed back to the bathroom for therapy. For me, "therapy" means a long, very hot bath, which I almost never have time for. I always seem to be in a hurry so I get by with quick showers, but that morning I went all-out: Bubble bath, apricot shampoo, and a steaming washcloth over my face for twenty minutes to reduce the swollenness. And then my favorite special body lotion all over.
All that took awhile and I kept letting out some of the bath water and refilling with hot. When I finally got out of the tub almost an hour later, I was as pink as a freshly-peeled shrimp.
After getting partly dried and wrapping my hair up in a towel, I tucked another big towel around myself and went to lie on my bed and think about things. Daddy must have heard the bath water running down the drain because a few minutes later I heard him climbing the stairs. Even though my bedroom door was standing open, he stopped outside and tapped on the door frame.
"Jodie? May I come in, sweetheart?" Daddy takes personal privacy very seriously and he never pries into things he shouldn't, which is another thing I love about him.
I had already sat up and readjusted my towel when I heard him on the stairs, so I said "I wish you would, Daddy. I feel like I have to talk to *someone*."
As he walked over and settled himself next to me on the bed, he gave me a teasing smile and said "I think I'll let your mother write the check for the water bill this month." I guess I blushed a little. I usually do when he kids me in that gentle way that makes me feel like I'm still "his little girl."
"I gather, from what your mother said, that you had a big fight with your boyfriend last night. Are you feeling a little better now?"
"Ex-boyfriend," I sighed. "We broke up." Just saying it out loud made my stomach knot up.
"Oh." He put his arm around me and squeezed my shoulder a little. "I'm sorry to hear that, honey. I know you liked him a lot." I'd sworn to myself that I wasn't going to cry anymore but his unquestioning sympathy was too much for me. I broke into sobs again and leaned my head against his chest. He put both arms around me and made comforting sounds, the way he used to when I was little.
"Well, I know this isn't what you want to hear," he went on softly, "but hardly anyone these days actually marries the person they fall in love with when they're fifteen."
"I know...," I snuffled. It was typical of Daddy that he said "fall in love" and not "puppy love" or "crush." Whatever he might think privately, he knows this stuff is important to *me* and he doesn't just dismiss it.
And at that point I discovered something: When I'd grabbed for his shirtfront a minute before and he was trying to make me feel better, my towel had come loose. My whole back and probably my butt were showing. If I sat up straight, my front would be, too. Maybe it was because I knew he would understand, or maybe I was just feeling reckless, but I didn't even think about it. I just took a deep breath and sat up. My towel fell away.
"Daddy, when we were fighting, Joshua said he wanted to get acquainted with some other girls who were, um,... more mature looking. Do I really look that young? That underdeveloped? Really? Please, tell me the truth!"
He glanced at me up and down and pursed his lips and one of his eyebrows went up. For a second, I thought he was going to yell at me to cover myself up. But I had to know and I was sure that if anyone would give me an honest answer, it would be him.
"Sweetheart, that's not exactly a fair question, is it? I'm not an unbiased observer." He smiled. "But I've always been straight with you and I always will be, you know that, don't you? Okay: I doubt you'll make the cover of SEVENTEEN or VOGUE. You're not the tall, willowy runway model type and you're not exactly,... lush, either. Of course, I don't know what's going to happen in the next three or four years. But physically, Jodie, I would say that you have a very nice body for fifteen. You're definitely on the right track, okay?"
"Yeah. Okay, I guess." I gathered up the towel and held it against myself. Daddy hadn't blushed or gotten awkward or yelled at me or anything. (But he never does; Mom says he's unflappable.) I knew I could trust him. I always could. I used to wish I was his age, that we had met in college or something. I would have married him in a minute! Actually, I sometimes still wish that.
"But, Jodie, aside from your figure, you have those beautiful big eyes the color of the sea and hair as fine as cornsilk. Same shade of pale gold, too." He stroked my hair and I felt so much better. I don't know if someone else, someone objective, would think I was beautiful or not, but Daddy can always make me feel that I am.
"And finally, sweetheart, you have a killer smile that should bring any young man to his knees. You are definitely one of the very prettiest girls I've ever seen -- and I'm *not* just saying that." Now I felt a *lot* better.
Daddy crossed his legs and watched as I got up and shuffled back into the bathroom, trying to hold my towel up and not drop my jeans and sweatshirt in the process. I mean, he'd just seen me naked but that was because I wanted him to. Like, for scientific purposes. Now it was different and I probably would have been embarrassed if he saw me naked accidentally. Or maybe not -- I don't know. Actually, it sounds a little strange when I explain it like that.
While I was in there pulling up my jeans, Daddy continued talking from the bedroom. "Honey, may I offer a piece of completely unsolicited advice?"
"Sure, Daddy. Don't I always take your advice?" There was a moment of silence and I knew he was grinning as much as I was. I have this habit of asking my parents for advice about all kinds of things but I often don't do what they suggest. And when I don't, I sometimes mess up -- but not very often, really. Anyway, Daddy never, ever says "I told you so" or anything condescending like that.
"Well," he went on, "I just wanted to suggest that you don't have to be in a hurry to find a replacement for Joshua. You might want to just do things with your buddies for awhile or by yourself. Go out on some ordinary, friendly-type dates with no strings attached. I suspect you'll get interested in another special boy when you're ready for it."
"Yeah." I was trying to talk through my sweatshirt as I pulled it over my head. "I was already thinking about that, kind of. I mean, I'm not down on *all* boys -- just Joshua!"
"Speaking for the male half of the species, I'm relieved to hear that," he laughed. "You just have some growing still to do. So does Joshua, I guess. It's never easy for anyone." I thought he was probably right. In a year, or even six months, I might look back and wonder why I had hated Joshua so much after being in love with him for almost a year.
When I came out of the bathroom and stuck my feet into my beaded moccasins, Daddy was waiting by the door to walk with me downstairs. As I went over to him I thought again about how terrific he always was and how lucky I was to be his daughter. So instead of going on through the door as he expected me to, I reached up and put my arms around his neck and said "I love you, Daddy," very softly. He smiled and hugged me and I hugged him back and kissed him.
I meant for it to be just a little kiss on the lips, like a thank-you, to show how much it meant to me that he was always so understanding. But while my lips were touching his, it was like a switch being flicked on in my brain or something, because suddenly I was kissing Daddy the way I used to kiss Joshua.
Like, I was mashing my mouth against his and then easing off and sort of sliding my lips back and forth. I learned that from Joshua and it feels really sexy. And for about one second I was almost horrified at what I was doing,... but during that same second, my tongue crept out and touched his front teeth.
While this was going on, Daddy wasn't really kissing me back but he wasn't pushing me away, either. I guess he was so surprised he didn't know how to react. He just stood there with his fingers resting on the small of my back like he was still hugging me. But when I stopped kissing him like that and stepped back, he didn't seem angry or shocked. He just had this sort of strange expression on his face.
Then he swallowed and cleared his throat, like it had suddenly dried up on him, and all he said was "Come on, sweetheart, I'll fix you some late breakfast." And while I sat at the kitchen table and ate my omelet and spread orange marmalade on my English muffin, I kept thinking about what I had done and wondering why I'd done it. And then I'd glance up at Daddy, who was leaning against the counter and sipping his coffee, and I'd find him watching me eat and looking thoughtful. I didn't say anything to him about the kiss and he didn't bring it up either. By the end of the weekend, I'd almost forgotten all about it and I thought he had, too.

Two weeks passed and the hole in my heart where Joshua had been ripped out was healing over. I have a bad habit of picking at scabs when I hurt myself, but I was trying very hard not to bother this one. Sometimes, getting ready for bed, I would realize that I hadn't thought about Joshua all day, especially if I didn't happen to see him in the hall at school.
Then I'd feel pleased with myself because it meant I was getting over him, sort of. But I also didn't want to forget him completely. Joshua was the first boy I was ever really in love with and I wanted to keep those memories for when I got old. So I imagined I was taking all those memories, both good and bad, and storing them in a vault in my head, and the vault had a time-lock on it that wouldn't open until I was much older -- like, thirty, at least.
After word got around school about our break-up -- which took about two hours -- a couple other guys asked me for dates and I accepted. Partly, I guess, just to prove something to myself. And the first time I mentioned at supper that I had a date with someone, Mom and Daddy exchanged a quick glance and tried to hide their smiles. Even Angela seemed a little relieved; she probably just didn't want me moping around the house when she had friends over.

So this one Saturday, I had a date with a boy named Geoffrey. He was cute and pretty nice and very smart, only he wasn't conceited about it. He was a junior and he had a car so we went to a show at the multiplex and then out for a pizza, and then we went and parked for a little while. I might not have done that, but Geoffrey didn't seem to expect it and he wasn't pushy about it. He actually asked me sweetly if I'd like to park and then said if I didn't want to, that was okay, too; he'd understand.
I liked his no-pressure approach and we spent an hour or so steaming up the windows and getting sweaty. I let him unhook my bra and put his hands up under my shirt, and that was really nice. He knew just how to touch my nipples to get me warm and tingly. But I got a little nervous when he started to unhook my belt buckle. So I asked him -- also sweetly -- please not to try to get my pants off. But I also put his hand right down between my legs outside my jeans so he'd know I wasn't rejecting him.
Geoffrey was content to stroke me there and to squeeze my butt and stuff like that. When he stuck his tongue in my ear, I thought for a moment I was going to faint. He got me so hot, I was really glad I had decided to keep my pants on.
Even with Joshua, I'd only been naked once, and he'd pushed my pants down to my ankles a few times and put his fingers up inside me, and I'd masturbated him a few times. But we'd only discussed doing it once, the time I'd gotten naked. Joshua was nervous and I thought I was too young, so we didn't and I was still a virgin.
Anyway, when Geoffrey finally took me home about midnight, we sat in the driveway and kissed some more until I finally decided I'd better go inside before I did something stupid. As sweet as Geoffrey was, I wasn't at all sure I should go out with him again. I was afraid the next time I wouldn't be able to restrain myself and we'd end up making love in the back seat. I wanted my first time to be special, and in a bed. That kind of limited things. And while I was heading quietly upstairs, it suddenly occurred to me that I hadn't thought of Joshua all evening -- only of Geoffrey and myself. And, unfortunately, of how horny I was right then.
My parents' bedroom is at one end of the upstairs hall and Angela's room and my room are at the other end, with the second bathroom and the linen closet and the stairs in between. What I mean is, I would never have thought of going anywhere except to my own room when I got upstairs... except that I was startled to hear a sort of moan coming from Mom and Dad's room. So I tiptoed down the hall and paused outside their door. It was standing open about two inches so I stood there and held my breath and listened, wondering if someone was sick or something.
Then I heard the moan again with a kind of gasp following it -- and I knew it was definitely Mom and that she wasn't sick at all. They were doing it! I knew I should go on to my own room but I couldn't make myself leave. In fact, I moved closer and peered through the crack. I was still so horny, I just had to see what was happening.
There was a little bit of light coming in through the blinds from the street lamp outside and it only took a minute for my eyes to adjust. And then -- well, I just couldn't believe it! I guess most kids have trouble imagining their parents making love. I mean, I know they do it and all. They *must* do it, right? It's just very hard to visualize. And even then, you think of romantic scenes in movies.
Well, that's not how it was, exactly. Mom was lying on her back with her legs almost straight up in the air. Daddy was above her, between her legs, and her ankles were hooked over his shoulders. I could actually see his penis going in and out of her, like an oil well or something. And Mom was pinching her own nipples, rolling them between her fingers and tugging at them.
My knees started to shake and I broke out in a sweat, I got so excited. Mom was making the little moaning sounds every time Daddy pushed into her extra hard. And then she started talking in a monotone, almost a whisper. Stuff like "Fuck me, Mark, fuck me harder, I love the feel of your cock,..."
I couldn't believe my mother was saying things like that. But it was obvious she really enjoyed fucking. Daddy must be really good at it, considering they were both over forty and all. I suddenly realized I was rubbing my fingers up and down my cunt and I wished I had someone as experienced and expert as Daddy to lose my virginity to. That was always the problem with dating boys my own age: Even the really nice ones, like Geoffrey, hadn't done much yet.
Just then, as I stood there in the hall trembling and rubbing myself, Daddy kind of speeded up and Mom grabbed his arms and held on. Her head was bent back and her eyes were shut tight and her mouth was wide open. God, she looked so sexy! I almost couldn't believe this was my Mom I was watching!
And then Daddy had his orgasm; I could tell because he rammed his penis into Mom extra hard and froze there, making sounds in his throat. Mom gasped "Oh, God!" and her legs actually quivered. So I guess she had her climax, too. Then her legs dropped down off his shoulders and he sort of just collapsed on top of her. They kissed and Daddy stroked Mom's breast and whispered something I couldn't hear. She laughed very quietly and hugged him around the neck. I was glad they still loved each other so much.
Then I had to creep back up the hall to my own room before they noticed I was out there. I got out of my clothes and put on my tee-shirt, but I left off my panties for a change. Then I got in bed and thought about Mom and Daddy and how it was so obvious they loved to do it with each other, and I thought about Geoffrey and wondered if I shouldn't just give in to myself and do it with him. And I squeezed my legs together and rubbed my fingertips all around my clit and made myself come about a dozen times before I finally fell asleep.

The following week was really tough. Sitting in class or trying to do homework at home, or even just watching TV, all I could think about was sex. Basically, I wanted to get in on it. I used to think Joshua would be the first guy I slept with -- eventually. But he'd gotten impatient. Geoffrey was fun to make out with, but so were several other boys I'd dated. And they were all nice, but none of them meant anything special to me. I certainly wasn't in love with any of them. And then I'd think about watching Mom and Daddy. That's what I wanted: To make love with someone who actually loved me, who knew what he was doing, who could hold my hand and lead me through it, sort of. I wanted it to be memorable.

That Friday I didn't happen to have a date, which was just as well because my allergies were acting up and I didn't feel that great. I took a nap when I got home from school and when I woke up two hours later, I felt much better. But the house seemed awful quiet. I went downstairs and found Daddy all by himself, reading and drinking a root beer in the den.
"Where is everybody?" I asked as I wandered in barefoot.
"Hey, babe; is your head cold better?" I nodded and covered a yawn. "Your mother and Angela have gone over to your grandmother's house to help with that big women's social thing tomorrow, so they're staying the night. Won't be back till late Saturday. Your Mom looked in on you but you were snoring away so she didn't want to wake you."
He grinned and I stuck out my tongue at him before smiling back. He always claimed I snored but I knew perfectly well I didn't. And I'd forgotten about the social. My sister seemed to enjoy these old-lady functions, I could never understand why. I always tried to avoid being drafted for them, myself.
"So what's for supper?" I asked.
"Depends on where you feel like eating out. It's just you and me tonight, kiddo, so we can indulge ourselves -- if you feel up to it."
"Actually, I'm starving. How about Milano's?" I adore Italian food and Milano's has fantastic seven-layer lasagna. Also cute waiters.
"Sounds good to me. Lemme get my shoes and the all-important MasterCard." I followed him back upstairs and went to brush my hair, tuck in my shirt-tail, and locate my own shoes.

I've always enjoyed going out to eat alone with Daddy. Or going just about anyplace else alone with him, including automobile and sports shows. It doesn't matter, really. The important thing is, he doesn't have to divide his attention among several people and we have interesting (and sometimes very silly) conversations about all kinds of stuff. And he always treats me as if I'm older than I really am, never talking down to me or explaining things I already know, which I like a lot.
Milano's wasn't very crowded that evening and we were able to get some quiet privacy in a rear corner booth, where I could also ogle the waiters unnoticed. Maybe it was the privacy -- or the young guys in aprons and bow ties -- that got me started on the subject of sex.
"Daddy, can I ask you something kind of personal?" I started buttering him a breadstick. (He never expects me to do stuff like that, which is exactly why I like to do it.)
"Well, you can ask, sweetheart."
"Well, um,.... How old were you when you made love for the first time? Did you really love the girl?"
He paused with his napkin half-unfolded. "Are you thinking about it yourself, Jodie?" He always goes straight to the heart of anything.
"Daddy, I'm *always* thinking about it. Didn't you at my age?"
"Touche!" he laughed. "Yeah, it goes with the territory, doesn't it? To answer your question, I was sixteen -- and I made a terrible mess of it. Like a lot of other boys my age, I guess. Her name was Eileen and I was absolutely sure I loved her. I felt kind of guilty afterwards. We didn't fight about it, but I'm sure the sex thing was the main reason we stopped going steady a few weeks later. We stayed friends, though."
He smiled again with a "remembering" look in his eye. Then he glanced back at me with some concern. "You're not under some kind of pressure from a boy, are you? It has to be your own choice, Jodie."
"I know, Daddy. And no one's pressuring me -- except myself, I guess. I just---" I waved the breadstick around, trying to think of the right words. "It's just that whenever I kiss a boy lately, a nice boy that I really like, I sort of wonder if he should be the first one."
Daddy was nodding sympathetically, so I continued. "I'm not saying it'll happen right away, necessarily. And if it does happen, it'll be because *I* want it to. And I'll take precautions, too." In fact, I had two foil-wrapped condoms tucked away in a little pouch in the bottom of my purse, just in case.
He gave me a thoughtful, slightly sad look that I'd seen more than once recently. It was a look that said he recognized that I was growing up, and he was pleased with that, but he also figured I would need him less and less every year. But I knew better. I knew I'd always need my Daddy, no matter how old I was.
"You seem to have thought this through," he said finally. "I won't insult you by telling you not to do it. Because, first, I have enormous confidence in your good sense. And second, when it comes to teenagers and sex, it doesn't matter what adults think or say. You'll do what your heart and your hormones tell you to do. So, what it comes down to, Jodie, is: I trust you not only because I have to but because I choose to."
I reached across the table and took his hand and squeezed it. God, why couldn't it be him? I mean, just as a guy. I mean, he was *perfect*! And after watching him and Mom in bed, I knew he'd be a terrific lover, too.
I little voice in my head said "He's your *father*, for chrissake." But my answer to that was "He's still a gorgeous, kind, gentle, and loving man. And very sexy." I kept summoning up images of his cock in that dim bedroom; it had seemed pretty large, but that was probably because I hadn't seen that many cocks. (Well -- only Joshua's, actually.) But I thought about Daddy's penis sliding up between my widespread legs and I got trembly all over.
The meal was as good as usual and Daddy and I chatted about all sorts of oddball things, as usual. I really enjoyed it... as usual. As we were leaving the restaurant, Daddy offered me his hand and I took it automatically. The car was parked up in the next block and we took our time getting to it. The evening was warm and breezy and Daddy and I strolled slowly along, fingers intertwined, stopping to look in shop windows. Just as if we were coming back from a date. In fact, by the time we reached the car, I was so deep into my own fantasies I nearly expected this terrific guy I was with to draw me close to him and kiss me.
He didn't do it, of course. He just unlocked the car, opened the door for me, and helped me in, like the gentleman he was. And on the drive home, I realized I had made a decision: I was going to rid myself of my virginal status before morning and the one male in the world whom I trusted absolutely was going to help me do it.

When we got home, I went upstairs to work on an essay for English; if I could get the first draft written tonight, I could check the spelling and copy it over neatly on Monday morning, and I wouldn't have homework to mess with over the weekend. Daddy had to work at his computer down in his study anyway, getting some numbers ready for a client or something. But we'd already made a date to watch "The Day the Earth Stood Still" at eleven o'clock. My father's a sucker for old sci-fi movies and by now I know most of them as well as he does.
But that evening I was also preparing myself for the big seduction. After writing my essay, I took a long, hot shower and brushed my hair out in a big cloud of curls, the way I knew he liked to see it. And instead of my usual sleeping tee- shirt, I hunted around in my bottom dresser drawer and dug out the old-fashioned baby-doll nightie I'd bought in a fit of romantic optimism at a sale at Frederick's of Hollywood at the mall. It was very red and very sheer and only came down to my crotch, and the panties had skinny little tie-strings at the sides. Just putting it on made me feel five years older and fifty degrees hotter. Over that, I wore a short kimono-style robe that just barely covered the nightie. I have nice long legs that I'm kind of vain about and when I checked my appearance in the full-length mirror I was a bit startled at what I saw. The girl in the reflection could definitely hold her own.
I went out on the landing shortly after ten and listened. The TV was going, so Daddy must be finished with his work. I didn't want to spoil the effect I was sure I'd have on him by wearing those beat-up old moccasins so I went downstairs barefoot, very quietly.
Daddy was sprawled comfortably on the far end of the couch. He was wearing an old pair of drawstring pajama bottoms and he had his shirt off. Perfect. I paused on the third step from the bottom, straightened my kimono, pulled my shoulders back, and took a deep breath.
"Almost time for the movie, Daddy?" As he glanced over, I descended the remaining steps and started across the room. He just stared at me like he'd been hypnotized. His mouth was open and only his eyes moved, flicking from my face to my breasts, to my waist, down my legs, and back up again. I don't think he even realized he was taking inventory like that, which gave me a dose of self-confidence. I desperately wanted him to think of me as just a young, desirable woman.
A few feet away, I stopped, bent one knee inward like a model, and put my hands behind my back. "Whatcha lookin' at, Daddy?" I asked in my best purr.
He cleared his throat. "Sweetheart, every time I turn around, you've grown again. You sure look older in that outfit." He smiled a bit nervously as I glowed at him. That was exactly what I wanted: Not to look fifteen!
I sat on the middle cushion. His arm was stretched out along the back of the couch and I pulled it carefully around my shoulder. Then I leaned against his broad chest and took a chance by "accidentally" nuzzling his nipple; it quickly stiffened, which was really a turn-on. I wanted to lick it, just to see what would happen, but that might break the spell and scare him off. He stroked my hair and I was certain his hand was trembling.
"You've become a beautiful young lady," he said softly and kissed the top of my head. I melted against him even more and it was my turn to shiver.
"I love it when you pet me like that," I whispered, and burrowed in close under his chin. I'd used the word "pet" deliberately, like a subliminal suggestion. He stroked my upper arm and I listened as the pulse in his neck artery accelerated. Then his body went rigid for a moment and he gently pried me away from him.
"Sweetheart,... you don't know what you're doing...." He seemed kind of anguished. I let the sash of the kimono loosen as I got up and moved onto his lap.
"Daddy, I know *exactly* what I'm doing. I'm ready for this. I'd rather do it with you the first time than with anyone else in the world because I love you and I know you'll be gentle. But I'm going to do it with *someone*, Daddy. If it's a boy my own age, I'll be nervous and everything -- and I might end up with a reputation at school, the kind I don't want." The kimono was barely hanging on my shoulders and I was wiggling around and snuggling up close against him, letting my bare thighs rub against his, moving the tips of my fingers lightly over his bare chest, teasing the hair on the back of his neck with my other hand.
Daddy had one arm around my waist to keep me from sliding off. I took his other hand and placed it firmly on my breast. He sounded like he was having trouble breathing. But the important thing was, I could feel his penis growing big and hard beneath me.
One of my hands dropped to his lap and loosened the drawstring of his pajamas. When he didn't immediately dump me off on the floor, I slid my hand under the waistband and let my fingertips delve down into the thick hair. It was coarse and wiry and very male. I shifted my knee and managed to get my hand around the base of his penis and levered it up until the head pushed out above his pajamas. I wasn't quite sure what to do after that, but I knew how boys masturbated so I wrapped my fingers around the thick column and moved them slowly and softly up and down.
All this time, Daddy was staring into my eyes, looking through to the back of my skull. I thought I saw arousal there, a man's desire for a woman. His being my father didn't count at this moment. His hand hadn't moved on my breast until now, when it began massaging the small mound and lightly pinching the nipple. It felt wonderful and I knew moisture was forming in my cunt. I squeezed his dick to let him know that he was doing what I wanted him to do.
Then I got up on my knees straddling his lap and pushed my fingers through the thick hair at the back of his head. He made no resistance when I pulled him forward to my breast. He just stuck out his tongue and licked my nipple through the gauzy material of my nightie. It was kind of like he'd stopped thinking about what he was doing and was running on automatic. His mouth on my tit felt very nice, too.
After a few minutes I was really getting overheated. Daddy's big hands gripped my hips tightly. I took the next step and pulled my nightie off over my head and tossed it on the couch with the kimono. I remembered what Mom had done and I cupped my small tits in my hands, lifting and squeezing them and pinching the nipples between thumb and forefinger. The hot-flashes sizzled up my arms and down my spine.
Daddy's hands replaced mine, which felt wonderful. I reached down to the sides of my panties and yanked the tied strings; the material fell away in a small red heap. I grabbed it out from between my legs and dropped it with the other stuff... and I was sitting naked astride my Daddy's lap. I felt like I truly belonged there, I really did. Deep down, this was what I'd wanted all along.
Half of Daddy's cock was exposed above his pajama bottoms and it was twitching with his pulse. I pulled it toward me, rubbing the palm of my hand over the soft, smooth head as I tried to lever it down between my legs. Raising myself up and hunching forward, I finally trapped it against my crotch. The pulse continued to throb against my hot dampness and gave me delicious chills.
Wiggling around, I got the first inch of so of Daddy's penis wedged inside me. It was a little scary: I wanted him all the way inside, fucking me the way he had fucked Mom, but part of me was terrified -- not only at the idea of having sex in the first place but at doing it with my father. When I looked into his eyes, I thought for a moment he'd gone blind. He was sort of glazed over, not really focusing on anything, and his pupils had contracted. And he was panting and trembling as he continued to squeeze my tits.
He frightened me -- I was afraid I'd done something terrible to him and made him go into shock -- and I stopped moving and just watched his eyes. After a few seconds, he took a deep breath and blinked rapidly several times. His hands moved down and gripped my waist, holding me steady as he thrust his hips upward. I felt his cock slide into me another couple of inches and I gasped, not from pain but just from the feeling and the mental image of it creeping into me. It felt huge somehow -- a very strange sensation.
Daddy suddenly turned rather white and jerked his hips back. "No! What am I doing?" he moaned and tried to stand. But I couldn't let it all end here. My worries about the incest thing didn't matter anymore. And the sheer force of the lust that had built up in me overpowered any remaining fear of having sex.
I threw my arms around his neck and humped my crotch against him. The emotion of the moment took over and I began to cry. "Daddy, you have to do this for me," I sobbed. "If you love me, then fuck me!" His arms encircled me and I realized he was crying, too. "Daddy, I love you so much and I can't stand it any longer! Please, please, take me upstairs and make love to me!"
Without a word, he stood suddenly and I slithered off his lap but I managed to keep my hold around his neck. I thought it was all over, but Daddy bent and picked me up in his arms. He stamped his foot a few times and his pajama bottoms finally slipped off his hips and puddled around his feet. Then, still silent and with both of us naked, he carried me upstairs with no further hesitation.
At the top, he paused and turned his gaze to the right, toward my bedroom. It was a long three seconds. Then he turned back to the left and carried me into his own room and laid me out on the kingsize bed.
For another moment, he stood there looking down at me with tear-stains on his cheeks and an unreadable message in his eyes. Then I reached my arms up to him and whispered "Love me, Daddy...." He swallowed hard, reached to open the nightstand drawer, and pulled out a familiar little foil package. Without looking at what he was doing, he opened the wrapper and unrolled the translucent covering down over his trembling cock. Then, with a heavy sigh, he knelt on the bed, fitting his knees between mine as I spread my legs to receive him.
I held my breath as he slowly, gently lowered himself onto me. I watched his erection bobbing until it disappeared from sight. Daddy moved it with one hand, up and down the length of the opening,... to moisten it, I suppose. But I knew he wouldn't have any trouble getting into me. My whole pussy was wet, and I'd lost my hymen a few years before when I began stuffing two or three fingers up into my cunt late at night to accompany my dreams.
Then his penis slid all the way into me. It felt so enormous, like I was being skewered on a spit. It felt fantastic, too; all my nerve endings had moved down between my legs. When he began thrusting slowly into me and out again, I couldn't stop myself from moaning with pure pleasure.
Also, without even thinking what I was doing, I raised my legs and tried to wrap them around his body, to increase the angle for him. I wanted him as deep inside as he could get. But he was too big around for me. Without taking his eyes off mine, he hooked his elbows behind my knees, bending me almost in two. I raised my feet even farther and hooked my ankles over his shoulders -- and then it dawned on me that this was the same pose my mother had been in that night. And now I knew why! This wasn't like just being naked: My cunt and my ass were both completely exposed and pointing upward.
I watched Daddy's eyes staring into mine as his movements picked up speed. With each thrust, my whole body moved forward and back and the friction against my clit was electric. I'd never felt anything like that before. My climax was approaching and I clutched Daddy's arms because I was afraid I might pass out. I heard a high-pitched whining and discovered it was coming from my own throat. And when the orgasm rolled over me, I squeezed my eyes shut and drew in a deep breath of it.
Daddy's penis was plunging in and out of me with such force and speed, it made a sucking sound. His balls slapped against my asshole, which puckered and twitched in response. And as he jerked convulsively, I imagined I could feel the splash of his semen against the end of my vagina, even through the condom. And I smiled happily up at him. I knew how lucky I was to have him for a Daddy.
After another thirty seconds of twitching and jerking, Daddy sighed and blinked and licked his lips. His cock withdrew as he slowly rolled off and settled by my side. My hips and knees were stiff but I didn't mind. He lay there on his side looking at me and I knew he was feeling guilty about what we'd done. I felt I had to reassure him.
Rolling over to face him, I reached down and gathered the hot fluids from my pussy on my fingers and smeared the moisture across his lips so he could taste and smell me.
"Thank you," I said softly. "You don't know how happy I am right now. Don't worry about any of this, Daddy, please don't." I stroked his cheek and snuggled up close to him. "This is what I wanted, I swear." He looked miserable. "You know what I wish? I wish I could sleep with you and Mom so you could make love to both of us. We could share you." I smiled at his expression. "Okay, so I'm warped! The important thing is that I love you, Daddy -- more now than ever."
He had already removed the condom and I reached down and took his shrinking cock in my hand. He looked away and tried to draw back but I kept hold of him. He was beginning to worry me; I had to get him to talk to me, somehow.
I turned loose of him, scooted back to the other side of the bed, and rolled onto my back to stare at the ceiling. "You don't love me anymore, do you?" I asked with an almost-genuine catch in my throat. "I'm sorry, Daddy. I should have just fucked one of the guys at school. I could have found someone willing to do it."
He sat up immediately and took my hand. "Jodie, sweetheart, that isn't true! Of course I love you; I always have and I always will. You and your mother and your sister are the most important people in the world to me -- and you know it. But I shouldn't have done this. It's not right." He shook his head slowly. "Maybe I love you too much. Maybe that's why this happened. But you just looked so...." He ran down and sighed again. "I wanted you," you finished.
"Well, what are we going to do now?" he wondered after a long pause.
"That depends," I replied slowly. "If what we've done is really going to upset you, we don't ever have to do it again. If you're asking me what *I* want---" I leaned over and kissed him. "Isn't it obvious? I want to go on making love with you." I had to smile again at his expression. "Not all the time, Daddy. Not every day, not even every week. But once in awhile, when we both want to. And when it's safe," I added.
"Someone will find out," he said quietly. "They always do. And then your mother will divorce me, and I'll go to prison, and you and your sister will be sent to foster homes. I'm doomed and damned."
That scared me. I didn't want anything to happen to my family. But having experienced what sex with him was like, how marvelous it was, I didn't know if I could be around Daddy every day without going crazy from wanting him.
Daddy studied my face and smiled kind of sadly. "I hate myself for admitting this, Jodie, but as frightening as it is, I don't really want to stop. Let's not decide anything, okay? Let's just see what happens. We'll work it out, I promise."
And he pulled me gently to him and wrapped me up in his strong arms and kissed my cheek and stroked my hair. I wiggled around until as much of my body as possible was plastered against his. I hugged him hard and kissed him at the base of his throat. And I told him again how much I loved him and all the reasons why. That took a little while. And then we made love again, slowly and gently and quietly this time.

We both were sleepy so I spent that night in Daddy's bed, curled up next to him with my head cushioned on his arm. When I awoke the next morning, he was still asleep; I guess I wore him out. I carefully peeled back the cover and simply lay there, propped up on my elbow, studying him and thinking about the night before. Then I masturbated for a few minutes, just to take the edge off, before I eased out of bed and went down the hall to put on a robe.
Downstairs, I gathered up the lingerie I'd discarded the previous evening and generally tidied up. While I was pouring myself some orange juice, Daddy wandered into the kitchen, also in his robe. He was rubbing the corners of his eyes and his hair stuck out at strange angles. As he plonked down in a chair, I set the juice on the table in front of him and kissed him lingeringly on the lips, the way I'd seen Mom do sometimes.
"'Morning, Daddy." I flashed him a warm, secretive smile which he returned halfheartedly.
"'Morning, sweetheart. How are you feeling?" He sipped at his juice.
"Horny." Then I had to get a paper towel to mop up the juice he nearly choked on.
"Jodie, you have to be more careful about what you say! You can't just assume there's no one within earshot."
I apologized and Daddy smiled as I slid into his lap and hooked my arms around his neck. "I really am, though. I want to do it again, right now." And I loosened the sash of my robe, which fell open to show him I was still naked underneath. Then I slipped my hand inside his robe and ran my fingers over his chest. He shivered and his grip on my waist tightened. The look in his eyes said he was ready.
In a single movement, I rose and dropped my robe on the floor. Seeing his eyes flicking rapidly over my body made me even hotter. I pushed his robe back off his shoulders and he shrugged out of it. His cock was already jerking itself up at an angle.
I sat facing him on his knees and scooted closer so that his rigid penis stuck up between us and his balls were snuggled in close to my cunt. I stroked his cock lightly with my fingertips and he lowered his head and began kissing my breasts and sucking at my nipples. Oh, that felt wonderful! There was a fire burning in his eyes again and an answering flame was building in my crotch.
Finally, I just couldn't stand it any longer. My whole body was shaking. I tried to balance my feet on the rungs of the chair so I could raise myself up but I was too jittery and I nearly fell off.
When I moaned, Daddy grabbed my waist and lifted me like I was weightless. I reached under and guided him into me and he brought me down kind of hard.
I gasped, but not because it hurt. It was the sudden sensation of being filled up by him that was so delicious and shocking. I dug my fingers into his shoulders as I began moving up and down. He held me steady and took deep breaths, and I came down so hard I was almost afraid his penis would punch a hole through the end. It didn't hurt, though. In fact, I wished he was even longer and thicker, like a baseball bat.
My clit was sending out red-hot jolts over my entire body and I heard myself starting to cry again, it was all so overwhelming.
Each time I came down on him, his hips bucked upward. He was getting red in the face and I could feel the heat radiating from my own body. This was very different from the previous night: That had been "making love"; this was pure sex.
It didn't take long at all this time and when he came, I actually did feel him erupting inside me. That's when I suddenly realized we hadn't used a condom. That panicked me for a moment but it was too late to worry about it, so I didn't. All I could think about was that there was a naked penis jammed way up inside me, shooting gobs of semen all over everywhere. I think I suddenly "understood" about sex at that moment. Why it exists, I mean. A man and a woman can't get any closer than that. It's the ultimate way to share your love for someone. I swore silently to myself that I would never have sex with anyone I *didn't* love.

Daddy and I fucked twice more that Saturday -- once on the living room couch and once sprawled across the foot of his big bed. And each time was wonderful. It was like we had an agreement not to think any farther ahead than that weekend. We watched TV together, me curled up on his lap and him stroking my shoulder. And we slept together again that night -- just slept, no sex. I fell asleep with his big arms wrapped around me, keeping me safe and secure.
We went out to eat again for lunch on Sunday, this time at a restaurant where we'd never been before, way over on the other side of town where no one knew us; we held hands and whispered together like it was a real date. I even called him "Mark," which made him laugh. But even though Daddy looks pretty young, we got some odd looks from people at other tables. I don't think he even noticed, though, and I didn't care.
Mom and Angela came home late Sunday afternoon and I think Mom was a little surprised when I hugged her so hard. We had something -- someone -- in common now, though she'd never know about it. We both loved the same man -- man-to-woman love.
I was even really nice to Angela, asking her all sorts of questions about the luncheon-thing with grandma. She was a little suspicious at first; she probably expected some kind of sarcasm from me. But I hugged her, too, and told her I'd missed her. She was kind of dazed by all that, I guess, but then she started telling me all about their weekend, hers and Mom's, and she seemed really pleased that I wanted to know. After a few minutes, she even paused and said she had missed me, too. Angela's actually a good kid. It can really be nice to have a sister and I promised myself I was going to try to behave better with her.

Over the next eight weeks, Daddy and I found only two opportunities to make love and both times we were in kind of a hurry and we had to be especially careful. And we used condoms both times, of course. But by the end of that time, I knew something was up: My period was always as regular as clockwork and yet I'd missed one and the next one was a couple weeks late.
I went to see a girlfriend who worked part-time in a drugstore and got her to buy me one of those home pregnancy test kit things. I told her I was doing a favor for another friend and I think she actually believed me. She wouldn't have believed I'd had sex with any of the guys I'd been casually dating.
So I did the test, locked in the upstairs bathroom early the next morning, and I failed it. Or maybe I passed it. I guess "pass" and "fail" depends on what results you're hoping for. Anyway, it appeared I was pregnant. I'm kind of proud of myself that I didn't have hysterics or a breakdown or anything, but it was pretty upsetting. Mostly, I was worried about Daddy.
If I'd been a few years older, like eighteen or so, I would have wanted to keep the baby, because it *was* Daddy's. I suppose I would have lied about who the father was, though, even to him. As it was, I didn't dare say anything to Mom or Dad about any of this. Daddy would know what had happened, of course, and he would never have been able to lie convincingly to Mom. And Mom would have insisted on knowing what boy I'd been sleeping with. So it had to stay a secret.
I thought about it for several days and finally came up with a plan I thought would work. I called up Geoffrey, whom I hadn't gone out with in a couple of months, and asked him to meet me for an ice cream sundae -- my treat. Even though we hadn't been dating lately, Geoffrey and I had become good friends. He always smiled at me when we passed each other in the hall and sometimes we ate together in the cafeteria. I knew he really liked me -- but even more important than that, he had a reputation for keeping secrets. His friends, boys and girls both, tended to confide in him because he never carried tales.
Well, we sat in a booth at Braum's and chit-chatted about school -- who was going who whom, what female teacher seemed to have a thing for which male teacher, all that fun lunchroom gossip. And as we were finishing up, Geoffrey licked the drip off the end of his straw and then leaned toward me across the table.
"Jodie, this has been a lot of fun and I'm glad you called,... but I get the feeling you have something more than ice cream on your mind. Anything I can help with?" He kept his voice low and his smile was soft and sympathetic. He made it all so easy.
"Yeah -- I guess I sort of got you here under false pretenses." I took a deep breath. "Geoffrey, I have a friend who's gotten herself in trouble. You mentioned once that your older sister, the one in college, had to help her roommate find someplace to get an abortion -- a clinic that wouldn't insist on notifying her parents. Do you remember?"
His expression had suddenly gone more somber and he hesitated a moment before slowly nodding his head. "I remember, Jodie. What is it you need?"
"Well, I have this friend who's also in a bind. She got carried away with her boyfriend and didn't always take precautions. Now she has to find that same clinic. I told her I'd ask someone who knew."
He looked at me thoughtfully for maybe half a minute. He seemed a little sad, too. Finally, he raised an eyebrow and replied "A 'friend'?"
I don't know why I thought I could run a con like this on Geoffrey. He's much too smart and much too observant. He always hears the things you don't say.
"Okay,... it's not a 'friend'. It's me." I reached over and squeezed his hand. "Can you help me out, Geoffrey? Please?"
He squeezed back. "Of course I'll help. I just wish.... Never mind." He sighed heavily. "I know the place; it's a free clinic in the city and they really believe in freedom of choice. They never turn any woman away just because of secrecy. I guess they pad the files or something, but they never refuse to give help."
He paused and just looked at me, still holding my hand. "Are you going to tell me the name of this place, Geoffrey?"
"No, I don't think I am," he replied after a moment. "I'm going to insist you let me do more than that. I'll call and make you an appointment and then I'll drive you there myself." I tried to tell him that wasn't necessary, that I could make the arrangements and get there myself, but he shushed me. "Jodie, I don't know who the guy is and I don't want to know. I take it you haven't told him?" I shook my head. "Then let me-- Well, let me just pretend it was me, okay? Let me take care of you till this is over. I guess I'm just a little jealous, is all. You don't owe me anything, except I hope we'll keep on being friends for a long time."
I really didn't know what to say to all that. I knew Geoffrey liked me a lot; now I began to wonder if he was secretly in love with me. If he was, I'd just caused him a lot of unintentional pain by never doing more than making out with him, and going and getting myself pregnant by some other guy... and then going back to him for help. Pretty cold, Jodie.

So Geoffrey got me an appointment for the next Wednesday afternoon and both of us cut all our afternoon classes and drove into the city. And now we're sitting here in the waiting room, which is half full of girls my age and a little older. There are, like, twenty girls and only four boyfriends, including Geoffrey. He looks more nervous than I feel, actually.
I'm going to have to be really nice to him for doing all this. Well -- it's more "want to" than "have to," I guess. I've been thinking about Geoffrey a lot the last few days. During the whole hour and a half that it took us to drive up here, I watched him and wondered what kind of a boyfriend he'd be. A *real* boyfriend. I'm not in love with Geoffrey, but I think I probably could be. I don't think it would be hard at all to fall in love with someone as nice as him.
And I know Daddy would like him.

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