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Subject: {MKSmith}JDR"Dyad A"( Mf inc )[1/2]
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                             JOHN DARK REPOST
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                              * * * * * * * *
                                   DYAD
                            by Michael K. Smith
                            mksmith1@swbell.net

Part A:

   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.

To be continued.
   
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Copyright 1995 by Michael K. Smith. Copies may be made and
posted elsewhere for personal enjoyment, but all commercial rights
are reserved.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
                           =====================
                                   DYAD
                            by Michael K. Smith
                                  Part A
                                   -30-


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