And Ali Makes Three
Chapter 1

Copyright┬ę 2006 by Daibhidh

Incest Sex Story: Chapter 1 - A recently divorced man and his eighteen year old daughter start a new life in the Colorado mountains ... with the aid of some very innovative neighbors.

Caution: This Incest Sex Story contains strong sexual content, including Ma/Fa   Fa/Fa   Consensual   Lesbian   BiSexual   Heterosexual   Incest   Father   Daughter   Swinging   First   Slow  


I awoke to the sounds of song birds chirping and bright rays of morning sunlight streaming through the loft's window from the blazing orb just peeking over the eastern horizon. The loft? But the loft was Mary's bedroom! Why had I been sleeping in my daughter's room?

Then it all came back to me; slowly at first, in isolated bits and pieces, then in a raging torrent. Rising up on one elbow, I noticed my daughter was laying beside me on the bed; naked, sprawled out facedown on her stomach, her head burrowed under a pillow to shield her eyes from the intrusive sun. On my other side, her best friend Ali, equally naked, was stretched out on her back, her head at the foot of the bed, her feet on my pillow. Her dark-red hair was fanned out beneath her on the mattress, her arms and legs flung out in a parody of a ballet pose, her sensuous lips slightly parted as she snored lightly.

From where I lay I had an unobstructed view of Ali's beautiful russet-crowned pussy, the plump, neatly trimmed nether lips were slightly parted, giving me a tantalizing glimpse of the moist, pink skin of her vulva peeking coyly out at me. The top inner sides of her trim, athletic thighs streaked with what appeared to be the dried residue of some viscous fluid.

The scent of sex lingered in the air... A tingle of excitement coursed through my loins and I felt my cock twitch to life, lengthening and hardening, followed immediately by a small twinge of guilt.

Before we continue, let me put this morning in context by explaining just how I happened to find myself in this embarrassingly awkward situation. Of course, part of the immediate reason was the amount of alcohol we'd all consumed the evening before, but the underlying reasons go back much, much farther than that.

My life had always been boringly normal until twenty years ago, when I married my ex-wife Vera. The honeymoon period had been highly erotic but very short lived. I'd thought we were both ecstatically happy with our sex life until, after only three short months, she'd discovered she was pregnant. Then everything went to hell in a hand basket. Vera, who'd been a loving and passionate partner during those first few months, suddenly decided she didn't require sex any longer and after that indulged me only on very rare occasions, and then only with unresponsiveness, deep sighs of resignation and much eye-rolling. I'd assumed this was because of her pregnancy and that she'd return to normal after the birth of our child... wrong again. Once the baby was born, all her affection was showered on our new daughter, Mary, a blond-haired cherub with beguiling china blue eyes. My only husbandly duties from that point on consisted of paying the bills and providing a father-figure for her daughter. This frustrating arrangement became a way of life until one day shortly after Mary's eighteenth birthday, the day the status of our marriage quickly accelerated beyond 'troubled' and sped directly to 'terminal'.

It all started at the breakfast table, when Vera chided our daughter about her lack of boyfriends, to which Mary hesitantly announced that she wasn't interested in boys, that she only seemed to be attracted to other girls. Her mother paled, and for the first time I could remember, was speechless! All her hopes, desires and expectations seemed to come crashing down around her. A daughter who was only attracted to other girls? Impossible! That would make her a lesbian! It was as though Vera was under the impression that lesbians were some revolting human sub-specie, born only to defective patents. Certainly no daughter of hers could be such a deviant!

I could see that Mary was crushed by her mother's reaction to her announcement and broke down in tears. I quickly stepped to her side and gathered her in my arms. "It's ok honey, it's nothing to be ashamed of. We'll always love you, no matter what," I said, kissing the top of her head as I hugged her to my chest. Vera snorted in disgust.

The long and short of it was that Vera immediately banished Mary from her home, then told me if I were to condone such aberrant behavior, I could damn well get out as well. I tried to reason with her, but she was adamant. To show me just how adamant she was, she picked up the phone, called her lawyer, and demanded that he start divorce proceedings immediately.

Because of the current state of our marriage, I was more relieved than upset by her reaction, but I did think it was somewhat irrational. However, rather than argue with her, I found a small furnished apartment for Mary and myself, then spent several fruitless weeks trying to talk Vera out of her crazy divorce idea, to no avail.

A few months later I found myself sitting glumly in divorce court. It was a nasty proceeding from start to finish; the upshot was that Vera was awarded our house, our bank accounts, our investment funds, fifty percent of my income and a restraining order prohibiting me to visit the house or contact her for any reason. For my part, I managed to retain only our summer home, about forty miles out of town, which Vera had never liked anyway. Located up in a steep, narrow canyon just west of Littleton, in the foothills of the Rockies, it was more a two bedroom log cabin than a real house. On the plus side, however, it was built on an eastern-facing canyon hillside which caught the warming rays of the early morning sun, and the lot was steeply sloped, giving it a fine view of the surrounding countryside. It was also quite comfortable after we'd modernized and winterized it, and best of all from my viewpoint, there was no lawn to mow, only a small pine-needle covered clearing in a grove of tall lodge pole pines.

Unknown to Vera, I'd also managed to conceal a rather large stock fund I'd inherited from my late father which I'd been playing with for years but had never told her about. The dividends from this fund would provide me with an adequate income, especially considering I no longer had to support Vera's expensive lifestyle. She had, of course, kept our fairly new GMC Suburban, but I didn't consider that a huge loss. Its travels seemed to consist mostly of trips back to the dealership for safety recalls and repairs, always at a magnificent eight-miles-per-gallon. My daughter, however, had a new four-wheel-drive Jeep Cherokee which I had given her on her eighteenth birthday and which was titled, insured, and registered in her name, thus putting it completely beyond the reach of Vera's acquisitive lawyers.

The morning after the divorce settlement was reached and the seemingly endless paperwork completed, Mary and I cleaned out our little apartment, returned the keys to the landlady, collected our security deposit, then loaded up her Cherokee with our personal possessions and headed out.

Driving down through Denver's southern suburbs, then west through Littleton and finally up into Wild Horse Canyon, we reached the cabin around noon. I pulled up into the steep driveway and unload the Jeep while Marie made a pot of coffee and prepared lunch. As we settled down at the redwood picnic table on the veranda with our coffee and sandwiches, I looked over at her and said with a wry smile, "Well, I guess it's just you and me now, kid."

With tears misting her eyes, she slid over and hugged me tightly. "I love you so much, daddy. Don't worry about it, we'll be just fine. I love it up here in the mountains. My best friend Ali lives just up the canyon and I really like her parents also. I doubt that I'll be too lonely while you're at work."

"That brings us to another thing, kitten," I said. "I've been thinking about it and decided that I'm at a dead end on that job, and besides, the thought of that two hour commute to Denver and back every day is not all that attractive. The last time I talked to him, Allison's father said he was thinking of hiring a horse wrangler and I thought, if he hasn't already hired someone, I might apply for the job. He's got a pretty good-sized horse herd now and I've always been partial to Appaloosas. I'm only thirty eight, in pretty good health, and I much prefer horse barns to offices. Sounds like a pretty good fit, don't you think?" "That would be great, dad," she replied excitedly. "Lets clear away the dishes and drive up there. You can talk to Mr. Gilmer about the job and I can tell Ali that we're going to be fulltime neighbors now!"

Ten minutes later the dishes had been rinsed, the dishwasher turned on and we were in the Cherokee again, headed further on up the canyon. After a climbing, twisting mile or so, I turned off onto a narrow gravel road arched by a large rainbow-shaped sign announcing we were entering "The High Lonesome Ranch - Home of Quality Appaloosas."

As we continued on up the gravel drive, now bordered on each side by sparkling white three-board fences, I was again impressed with John's property. This lower pasture was the largest of three such fenced fields. The thirty or so mares, scattered out over about twenty acres in groups of four or five, were peacefully grazing on the lush new grass. A few raised their heads, staring curiously at this intrusion on their solitude. Passing this field, we came to another; this one only about five acres where John's eight studs were grazing contentedly. Finally, nearly a mile beyond the turnoff, the ranch buildings came into view; a large two-story log house, a good sized pole barn and a large paddock containing their personal saddle stock.

As we parked near the side door, next to a dust covered all-wheel-drive Subaru, the door swung open and Allison, a tall shapely young woman in her early twenties, stepped out to meet us, her long dark-red hair whipping in the wind. As Mary stepped out of the Jeep, Allison embraced her, saying, "I didn't know you folks were coming up this week. God, it's good to see you again. It's been such a long time." Then, peering into the Cherokee, she asked, "Where's your mom? Isn't she with you?"

Mary hugged the young woman, a little more ardently than I might have expected, before replying, "Mom won't be living with us anymore... permanently. My folk's divorce was final today and she got the house in Denver as part of the settlement. As we're no longer welcome there, dad and I'll be living at the cabin permanently from now on."

Ali was at a loss for words; apparently she had been unaware of our marital problems. Turning to me, she threw her arms around my neck and pressed her hard young body tightly against me, her warm cheek pressed to mine. I felt her full, firm breasts pressing into my chest, her breath hot on my neck. I tried, unsuccessfully, to suppress the guilty surge of forbidden desire that spread quickly through my groin.

After a long minute she pulled back, grasped me by the shoulders and looked sadly up into my eyes. "God, I'm so sorry, Jack. I didn't even suspect anything was wrong between you two. I guess you must have gotten custody of Mary?"

"Well, since she's now eighteen, she doesn't really need a guardian," I replied, "But yes, the two of us will be living at the cabin year round from now on."

As Allison led us into the house, I asked if her folks were home. "No, mom and dad went into town about an hour ago to pick up grain and do some grocery shopping, but they should be back shortly," she smiled. "Have you two eaten lunch yet?" We assured her we had so, seating us at the kitchen table, she poured us each a cup of coffee before joining us.

"By the way Allison, do you know if your father is still looking for a wrangler?" I asked. "I've decided to resign my job in Denver and I'll need something to occupy my time."

"I don't know for sure, Jack... but if he was looking before, I'd guess he's still looking. I do know he hasn't hired anyone recently," she replied with a grin. Before we had a chance to discuss it further, we heard the crunch of tires on the gravel drive.

I stepped outside to greet them, as John and Sharon Gilmer stepped out of their beat up old Ford pickup. In his mid-fifties, John was a short, a compact, muscular man with broad shoulders and slim hips, dressed in tight faded Levis, a blue chambray shirt, well worn cowboy boots and a battered gray Stetson. His exposed skin was suntanned and weather-beaten. Sharon was dressed in similar garb, two inches taller and five or six years younger than her husband. She was a strong capable looking woman, pretty but not as sensuous as her daughter. She did have a great figure and the face of an angel though.

John's round friendly face lit up as he extended a welcoming hand; a hand strong, rough and calloused from a lifetime of hard physical labor. It was easy to believe he'd spent eight years as a competitive bronco rider on the rodeo circuit, before buying the ranch and marrying Sharon. "Good to see you again, Jack. You haven't been up here in what... six months now?" he said in a firm gravelly voice.

"Yes, I guess it's been about that, but I've been rather tied-up lately. Let me help you with these groceries, then I'll tell you what's been going on," I replied with a grin.

Sharon, who had been waiting her turn patiently, threw her arms around me and, after giving me a neighborly peck on the cheek, asked, "Are you up here alone or are Vera and Mary with you?"

"It's a complicated story Sharon, the condensed version is that Vera and I are now divorced, but Mary's in the kitchen with Ali. Let's get this stuff inside and we'll talk over coffee," I replied. With that we each gathered an armload of plastic grocery bags from the truck bed and carried them into the kitchen.

When the three of us were seated at the kitchen table, Allison and Mary having gone out to the paddock to inspect Misty, Allison's new saddle mare, John said, "Alright buddy, fill us in on what's been going on. You look like hell warmed over."

"I won't go into all the gruesome details but the gist of it is, a few months ago Mary told Vera that she thought she might be a lesbian. For some reason, Vera exploded and banished her from the house. Then, when I expressed compassion for Mary, she threw me out too... but not before calling her lawyer. The divorce was finalized this morning. She and her shyster attorney pretty-well cleaned me out, except for the cabin, so Mary and I pulled up stakes and moved up here. Vera, in a rare moment of compassion, only attached half of my paycheck for alimony, so I'm resigning that position and severing my ties with the company. I guess that means she'll now be collecting half of zilch from that source," I chuckled. "By the way Walt, are you still looking for someone to help with the horses? It looks like I'm going to have a lot of free time on my hands and wouldn't mind earning some walking-around money."

John and Sharon looked at each other in shocked silence before Sharon took a slow sip of coffee, then said, "My God Jack, that bitch really put you through the wringer, didn't she? I don't know what to say, except I'm so sorry for you and Mary. You know, Ali sprung something like that on us when she was about Mary's age, said that she'd discovered she was bisexual. She was devastated but we managed to calm her down after awhile. The three of us talked it all out... took half the night, but we finally reached the conclusion that it didn't really matter. She was still our daughter and we loved her no matter what. So we all went off to bed and life went on. She is what she is and she can't change it. Nobody's fault, just something in her genes, I guess. As my old Aunt from Georgia would say, "Ain't no use pitchin' a hissy-fit 'bout sumpin' you can't do nuthin about. Just suck it up and get on with yer life!"

As Sharon chuckled, leaned back in her chair and lapsed into silence, concentrating on her coffee, John chimed in. "We don't dwell on it much, just the way she's wired I guess. But getting back to your question, if you want to come to work here Jack, the job's yours. I don't think your name aught to show up on my payroll though. No point in you giving that greedy bitch half of it when she won't even talk to you. Let's keep the whole thing 'under-the-table', so to speak. Just start whenever you're ready and work whatever hours you want. Keep track of the hours you put in and we'll settle up the end of the week, tax-free cash on the barrel-head. How does that sound?"

"Sounds great to me John, and thanks for your compassion, Sharon. It's really appreciated," I said, in a voice suddenly choked with emotion.

"Shucks, it wasn't nothin'" Sharon said with a dismissive wave of her hand. "Just being neighborly." John cleared his throat self-consciously and said, "Let's go outside and you can give me a hand unloading the grain. Then I'll show you around the place."

Driving the grain-laden pickup around to the back, we found Mary and Allison perched atop the top rail of the paddock fence, deep in conversation. When she saw us approaching, Mary waved and shouted, "Hey dad, don't worry about cooking supper tonight, Allison is taking us to dinner at The Rendezvous!"

"Sounds good to me," I shouted back with a grin, as John and I continued on through the paddock to the barn. I noticed a momentary knowing smile cross Johns face but I didn't connect it to anything at the time.

After unloading the grain, he showed me where the feed was stored, then showed me the tack room. We then threw a sack of grain on the back of a small all-terrain vehicle and rode down to the lower pastures where his breeding stock was still peacefully grazing and filled their grain troughs. At each pasture, the horses gathered around, sniffing the grain sack and nickering softly as they nudged our pockets in search of the of the dried apple slices John had loaded us up with. I'd forgotten just how beautiful Appaloosas were. The color of their coats varied from dark brown to light cream, but all with the trade mark white hips sprinkled with black spots. I hadn't ridden for twenty years because Vera didn't like horses and always complained that I smelled like a stable when I returned from a ride with my friends. However, I suspected it was a little like riding a bicycle, once you climb back on, it all comes back to you.

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