Message-ID: <11818eli$9806021106@qz.little-neck.ny.us> X-Archived-At: <URL:http://www.qz.to/erotica/assm/Year98/11818.txt> From: john_dark@anon.nymserver.com Subject: {MKSmith}JDR"Dyad A"( Mf inc )[1/2] Newsgroups: alt.sex.stories.moderated,alt.sex.stories Followup-To: alt.sex.stories.d Path: qz!not-for-mail Organization: The Committee To Thwart Spam Approved: <usenet-approval@qz.little-neck.ny.us> X-Moderator-Contact: Eli the Bearded <story-admin@qz.little-neck.ny.us> X-Story-Submission: <story-submit@qz.little-neck.ny.us> X-Original-Message-ID: <6l02nd$j7h$1@sparky.wolfe.net> JOHN DARK REPOST The following story is posted for the entertainment of adults. If you are below the age of eighteen or are otherwise forbidden to read electronic erotic fiction in your locality, please delete this message now. The story codes in the subject line are intended to inform readers of possible areas that some might find distasteful, but neither the poster nor the author make any guarantee. 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If you keep the story, *PLEASE* keep the copyright disclaimer as well. * * * * * * * * 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. 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