~Subject: NEW STORY: "Dyad"
~From: mksmith@fohnix.metronet.com (Michael Kalen Smith)

                          * * * * * * * *
                                DYAD
                         by 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 with 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 on my own, 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.

   

                 END

   
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
~~~~~~~~ Copyright 1995 by Michael K. Smith. Copies may be made and
posted elsewhere for personal enjoyment, but all commercial rights
are reserved.
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~~~~~~~~