Chapter 2: My New "Wife"

Saturday Morning

I woke up Saturday morning to find myself alone in the bed. I could have lay there, thinking, reflecting, on what we – Ally and I – have, and how we got to this point, and the moral implications...

But I didn’t.Instead, I found myself strangely eager to find out what’s going to happen now – what will today bring, and how things were going to be – are going to be – between Ally and me?

I took a quick shower and brushed my teeth, then thought, “Maybe I should rinse, too!” so I sloshed some Crest around in my mouth. I threw on a pair of khakis and a jersey and headed downstairs. Noises led me to the kitchen, where I found Ally standing next to the stove – stark naked.My very first thought was, “Ohmygod, she’s going to burn herself!” But then I saw that whatever she was making wasn’t splattering hot grease like frying bacon or sausage would, so she might be OK.

My next thought was: “My god, when did she get so sexy?”

Maybe five-foot-four in her bare feet, like she was now, her soft brown hair falling almost to her shoulders, with hazel eyes and clear skin with just a splash of a few freckles across her nose and cheeks.

And a solid, trim body, shaped and toned by track and volleyball the past two years. Straight, narrow hips, a solid flat tummy, and breasts that were just beginning to emerge, with perfect little cone-shaped tips and medium-brown nipples the shape of large pencil erasers.

Ally stepped back from the stove and turned to face me. And the way she was standing, with her legs relaxed, I could see the top of the cleft between them, and the fleshy inner lips protruding from that cleft.And she looked at me with this look, a look that seemed to be saying, “Do you like what you see – do you like the way your wife’s body looks?”Yes. Yes, I did like the way my “wife’s body” looks. I liked it very much. And my mind started racing, with the many things I all of a sudden wanted to do with that body, of the girl-cum-woman who says that she’s my wife.

“Pour yourself some coffee – the orange juice is already on the table.”

I went over to the counter, grabbed a mug from the cupboard, and filled my mug. Ally had already set out the little carton of cream so I added some to my coffee, then went over to the table and sat down.

I heard Ally say, “There – done.” She came over to the table holding a plate with four slices of French toast on it.

She was standing next to me, still splendidly naked. I couldn’t get over how radiantly beautiful – and how hot – she looked.

“I Thought we could use some protein and carbs after last night.” She kissed me on the nose. I decided I liked that.

I though she would sit down and share breakfast with me. Well, she did – sort of. She stayed there standing next to me, and I couldn’t help but be aware of her sex, since it was at eye level and barely nine­ inches from my face.

And the scent. I’m sure she washed, something with a mild floral fragrance, but through it came the the unmistakable scent of young woman sex.

I soon understood why Ally didn’t sit down. Standing there next to me, she reached over, and not bothering with knife and fork she picked up the top piece of French toast in her fingers and brought it to her mouth.“Mmmm – good.” She made a show of chewing, then swallowing it. She licked her lips, in a very suggestive fashion.

“Would you like some, Jim?”

So this morning I’m still “Jim.”

A strangled “yes” sound came out of my mouth. She smiled, pleased with the effect her performance seemed to be having on me. She took that same piece of toast that she’d taken the first bite out of and brought it to my mouth, but instead of waiting for me to open she pressed it against my lips, mashing the custardy bread against my mouth, waiting for me to open.

I opened my mouth and she proceeded to feed it into my mouth, ‘til my mouth was full of the warm, sweet bread. And then she extended her finger and pushed, forcing the squishy mass deep in my throat.

With her finger still in my mouth, she said, “It’s good that way, isn’t it – Jim?”With her finger still in my mouth, I could only make a nasal “Unh-hunh” sound.

“Oh, look – this piece is all squished. Let’s get a new one.” The she looked at the slices still on the serving plate. “I know – maybe it’ll taste even better with some maple syrup. Don’t you think so, Jim? Don’t you think it’ll taste even better with some maple syrup?”

Without waiting for me to answer, she grabbed the jug-shaped bottle of maple syrup and drizzled a generous amount over the stack of French toast.“Mmmm – this should be really good.”Like before, she picked up a slice in her bare fingers and brought it to her lips. But just before she was going to put it in her mouth she said, “This is too good for just one person. This is so good that we should share it. Don’t you think we should share this yummy - sweet - French - toast, Jim?”

At this point I could only groan some kind of assent.

She smiled. “I thought you’d say that.

“But it’s kind of drippy.” She paused, like she’d just had a thought. “I know – why don’t you turn your chair around, away from the table, that way we can share more easily.”

I wasn’t sure of the logic of this but I obediently scooted my chair out from under the table and turned it 180 degrees so it was facing outward.

Then Ally stunned me by moving around and sitting her naked self on my lap, facing me, her bare tits with their bare nipples just inches from my eyes.

She was still holding that same piece of French toast, shiny with maple syrup. I expected her to offer it to me, to hold it up to my mouth for me to open and take a bite of it.But no. Instead she looked straight into my eyes and brought the slice to her own mouth and took a bite – a big bite – and then leaned toward me, still holding the piece of bread between her teeth, and brought it ‘til it touched my lips – and her eyes locked onto mine. And there was no doubt what I was supposed to do.

Obediently, I opened my mouth, and together we shared the French toast. When we had both finally swallowed, she smiled. “It’s nice, sharing breakfast like that, isn’t it, Jim?” I was too breathless to respond.

“Another bite?” and before I could answer she took the remaining portion and forced it partway into her mouth and again leaned forward to me. She slowly turned her head side to side, dragging the sticky bread back and forth across my lips, until I finally opened my mouth to receive it.

And like that, with our open mouths pressed against each other, we ate the rest of the slice.“I like sharing that way. Did you like sharing that way, Jim? But it is kind of messy, isn’t it?” Another pretend thought.

“I know! You don’t want to get syrup and crumbs all over those beautiful slacks...” (my 4-year-old chinos) “Maybe you should slip them off so we don’t get that sticky syrup all over them.”

She slid back on my lap and started undoing my belt, then unbuttoned the waist.

“Stand.”

In kind of a daze, I did what she told me to do. I stood, and she unzipped the zipper and the slacks fell down to the floor. And that’s when I remembered that I hadn’t put on any underpants this morning. Why I made that decision I haven’t a clue.

“Step.”

I lifted one foot, then the other, stepping out so that now I was completely pants-less – naked from the waist down.

Like Ally.

She guided me back down onto the chair, then resumed her position, straddling my legs, her naked ass and pussy pressing against my now-naked thighs – and my cock.

But apparently that wasn’t enough for Ally.

“Since we went to all that trouble for your slacks, maybe we should take that shirt off, too, huh?” She grabbed the hem and began to pull the jersey up my body, and when she got it up high enough I dumbly raised my arms and tilted my head forward and Ally finished guiding the shirt off me and draped it over the back of one of the other chairs.

“There! Now we’ll be able to enjoy breakfast right.”

She didn’t reach for another slice of bread – not yet, anyway. Instead, she put her arms around me and scooted up close, until her bare tits were pressing against my bare chest. I put my arms around her and we held each other like that, at least until she started twisting her chest back and forth against mine, rubbing her tits and nipples against the wiry brown hair.“Now we can finish breakfast. She took the next slice of bread in her fingers and pushed it against my lips until I opened my mouth, and then leaned forward and took the remainder of the slice in her open mouth. And like that, my daughter – my wife – shared the third slice of French toast.

Ally pulled back and looked at me and announced, “I can’t hold it any more,” and slid off my lap and down onto her knees. She forced my knees apart and grasped my thickening cock in her fingers and leaned down and took it into her mouth. No finesse – she just went down on me – on my cock, and she licked and sucked, sliding her syrupy, mushy mouth up and down my steadily increasing length.

My daughter seemed totally inexperienced and had no technique whatsoever – which I realized was a kind of relief – but made up for it in gusto. But there was no way she was ever going to get me off like this.

Just as well, because that wasn’t her goal. She’d gotten my cock so hard that it stuck out from my crotch at a 60 degree angle, and that was just right for her to get up from her knees and straddle me again, and this time she guided my 60 degree cock straight into her pussy, which was sopping wet from the excitement.She basically dropped down on me, taking most of my cock in a single thrust, then started shifting her hips until she had all of me worked all the way inside her. She put her arms around my neck and mashed her mouth against mine and worked her tongue into my mouth, and the all the way around my lips, and then back into my mouth, then pulled away again and said, “Fuck me, Daddy. I want your big daddy dick filling me up, all the way up inside me!”

Again, I was “Daddy,” with my “big daddy dick” filling her up. I’d have to ask her about that sometime. But not now.

So with her arms tightly around me and my arms around her and her hard naked nipples rubbing against my chest and our mouths pressed against each other, we rocked our hips together, finding a natural rhythm in no time.

I could feel Ally’s whole body, all at one time, and the warmth and the softness of her skin and the firmness of her young flesh, and she could wrap herself around me, and we could use our mouths to taste each other...

And without question it was the best fuck I ever had.

And it also made me wonder: Is this just the first? Are there going to be fucks just as good as this one? Or maybe even better?“Oh, Jim,” so now I’m Jim again, “I want this to last forever...,” so do I, my darling Ally, “ ... but I don’t think I can ... Jim...!” ... and those words from her broke down my last bit of self-control and I let myself go, let myself pour all the jizz that was building up inside me since the moment I walked into the kitchen and saw Ally standing there in all her glorious nudity.

As she climaxed Ally clutched at me, her nails digging into my back and shoulders, her teeth gripping my bottom lip, and I squeezed her, trying to pull her into my sweating body...

And then the wind went out of both of us, and we sagged against each other, attempting to recover our breaths...

And I felt so whole, so complete.~ ~ ~

Of course I had to ask.

“Where did you learn how to do that? I mean, where did you learn about that position?

“Oh, Natalie said it’s one of her favorite ways to do it. She says it reaches the deepest inside her and touches the best places and she cums the best when she does it that way.”

And I’m trying to remember which one is Natalie. Is she the tall slim one with the long dark hair? No, that’s Natasha. Natalie must be the short curvaceous bubbly blond one?

And “one of her favorite positions?” Positions with who? And since when?

The things I never even suspected.~ ~ ~

I thought we had reached an accord – that so long as I am alone, Ally would be my surrogate wife.

Or at least that’s what I thought was the arrangement that we had arrived at. It turns out, that wasn’t the whole story as far as Ally was concerned.

Because it turns out, Ally isn’t just to be my “surrogate wife.” As far as Ally’s concerned, I am to be her husband!

... and in the words of old contract language, “with all the rights and responsibilities appertaining thereunto...”

And we also had that conversation. You know, the one about me cumming inside my mature young daughter?

“Oh, that’s not a problem, Daddy – I’ve been on pills for my irregular periods for the last year.”

So, not a problem. For now.

Ally and I have some kind of sex perhaps two out of every three nights. Even when Ally has her period, if she’s feeling like it we always find some way to make each other happy.

And the other nights, the nights we don’t have sex, we hold each other. Or maybe we’re holding onto each other, both of us still trying to cope with Janet’s leaving us.

And each day Ally and I become more confident, and more comfortable, with our new relationship.~ ~ ~ However I might feel about Janet and about the way she walked out on me – on us – I didn’t want Ally to hate her mom. Yes, her mother-my wife walked out and left us, without saying even a “Goodbye.” Alright, she did leave a letter – more of a note, actually – saying that she was leaving us “to try to find happiness,” and that we shouldn’t look for her or try to find out where she was and she hoped that we – and especially Ally – wouldn’t hate her.

“I don’t hate Mom, Dad. I don’t understand why she left, or why she didn’t think that she could be happy with us, but I don’t hate her.”

So Ally is processing Janet’s desertion – possibly better than I am. But still, I wanted to try to reassure her, in any way I could think of.

“You know she didn’t run off to leave you, Ally – she’d never do anything like that...”But then I realized – that’s exactly what she did – she ran off and left her daughter.

And here’s where Ally surprised me (although I guess I should be getting used to it by now).

“Dad, there’s been this darkness inside Mom, and it’s been there for more than a year now. It’s not just not being happy – it’s something deeper than that, way deeper. I think Mom’s got the depression, and she doesn’t know how to talk about it or what she should do about it, and maybe leaving the way she did was the best way she could think of protecting us from it.”

How does my young daughter know these things? And why is it that a young girl ends up having to carry such a heavy load?~ ~ ~

Sometimes Ally calls me “Jim” and sometimes she calls me “Daddy,” and I’m trying to figure this out. For example, when we’re doing things together, like cooking or washing the dishes or doing the laundry or when she wants to tell me something about school or about a friend, I’m “Daddy.”

But when we’re together, at night, in the bedroom – in our bedroom now, I guess – I’m Jim.

I’ve thought and thought, and the conclusion I’ve come to is that much of the time she sees herself as ... as my “wife.” At those times, she calls me by her “husband’s” name – Jim. But other times she’s still a young girl who needs her Daddy. And I realize – it’s up to me to be both these things to her.

And another thing I realized ... that I like it this way, too.

I’m glad that I can still be her “Daddy,” to share new things with and to comfort her when she’s in need of comfort, and in general to teach her and to guide her into adult life.

And I like being “Jim,” “her husband.” Having been alone, at least emotionally, for so long, it feels good to have a partner – someone I can share life – all of life – with. And I love the fact that this partner is physically attractive, and that it excites me look at her, and to think about her body and about being naked with her – and that she wants me, sexually, and that I seem to be able to give her pleasure.~ ~ ~

And we’ve had to make some adjustments around home, to invent a new routine for ... for how our lives are now. Ally and I sleep together every night, of course, and enjoy some kind of sex most of those, even if it’s just a lot of kissing. (And for the first time in my life, I realize that kissing, real kissing, is more intimate than fucking.) But we keep Ally’s room – her “old” room, I guess – looking active, like it’s still her bedroom, so that when she has girlfriends over they can go to her room, or if the friends are staying overnight they can stay together in “her” room. And when her friends are over I’m always Dad or Daddy – never Jim.

But as soon as the friends are gone, Ally and “Jim” head for “our” room to make up for lost time, however brief it may have been.

And when I’m at work my mind occasionally wanders to “us,” and I wonder which Ally I’m going to find when I get home that evening, and also, what can I do that will delight Ally, and which will make us both happy.----

But there was one thing I did have to ask her.

“Sweetheart, Ally, something I’ve been wanting to ask you about, but I’m not really sure how to say it.”

She gave me a quick kiss on the cheek and said, “Go ahead, Daddy, ask me.” She smiled and gave me another quick peck. “You know we’ve reached the point where we can ask each other anything, right?”

Yeah, I guess we have.

“Ally, when we’re ... making love...”

“You mean fucking?”

I was a little taken aback by the... crudeness of her reply.

But also, a bit turned on by it.

“Both, I guess ... Anyway, when we’re doing ... both ... you call me ‘Jim,’ and you’re my ‘wife’...”

“Don’t you like that – being Jim and me being your wife?”

And I realized, I still haven’t come to grips with ... that ... with this way of relating. Now, when she asked, I realize that I do – that I’ve come around to accepting Ally’s ... definition ... of the way things are between us now, of our relationship.

Now it was my turn to kiss her.

“Yes, Sweetheart, I do like being ’Jim’ and having you as my wife. I kissed her again, not a quick peck this time, but a longer kiss on the lips. “But what I was going to say is that most of the time you call me ‘Jim,’ but also, sometimes, even when we’re ... making love, you call me ‘Daddy.’

She didn’t respond, so I had to ask her. “Why?”

Now it was her turn to think, to try to come up with an explanation for “why?”

“I’m not really sure...,” and she hesitated, like she was trying to decide whether her next word should be “Jim” or “Daddy.” “I’ve tried to think about it, and I think it’s because, well, because I think that in some way I’ve always wanted you. And then when I started learning about sex, that’s when I began to understand how it was I wanted you.”

Of course I was stunned by what Ally just said – confessed. That even as a little girl my daughter “wanted me,” in... that way?

Ally must have seen my confusion – even shock – on my face. She reached over and put her hand on my forearm.

“Don’t be surprised, Daddy. Most girls, I think, they secretly feel that way about their dads. Maybe some of ‘em don’t realize they want their dad in that way, but they do. In fact, some of my friends, it’s not so secret – several of them have told me that they wished their dad would make a move on them, and some of ‘em say they take every chance they can to sit on their dad’s lap or press their boobs up against him and stuff like that.”

She paused, like she’d stopped to think about something.

“‘Fact, I think a couple of them might already...,” but then she let her words trail off.

Of course I was stunned. I never imagined that “innocent” teenage girls would be like that. I mean, being interested – sexually – in their fathers? Don’t they think about things like incest?

But then I realized – that’s exactly what our situation is – that incest is the term for what Ally and I have been doing – are doing.

But before I could sort that out any more, it was Ally who said, “You know, talking about girls wanting their fathers that way has got me thinking, and there’s a girl right here who’s feeling like she wants her father that way! How about it – want to go upstairs and see what happens...?”

I knew what she was saying, because talking about this, and especially about how girls want their fathers that way, had got me wondering if there were any daughters around who might be feeling that way...

Then I got this wicked thought.

“So, when we get upstairs, who are we going to find – Jim? Or Daddy?”

“I don’t know,” and she grabbed my hand and pulled me toward the stairs, “Let’s find out!”~ ~ ~

So, yes, I cherish being “Daddy” to my amazing, loving daughter, Ally. And I love being “Jim,” husband to my sexy, loving wife – Ally.~ ~ ~

Even though Ally and I seem to have reached some kind of “arrangement” as to how things are between us – and how much I’m enjoying this arrangement! – I’m still confused by ... by the whole thing. I know that, first, we shouldn’t be doing this – I have no confusion about that. But since we are already doing this, I was confused about how I should feel about it. So I figured that like everything else, there should be something on the Internet that deals with this.

So I tried a Google search for the fairly innocuous “father daughter.” Not surprisingly, there were a ton of results for such a general search. But as I scrolled through the hundreds of results there were a number that seemed to be for some sort of discussion groups, where people could “chat” about a particular subject.

Which subject? Our subject?

It turns out there are lots of these chat groups. In fact, there were even whole sites dedicated to the issue of father-daughter... interest. (I later learned that there were similar sites and forums for mothers and sons with “similar” relationships or feelings.)

Some of the sites seemed to be the men only. Men who were already having an incestuous relationship with their daughters and were trying to deal with it – kind of like me now, I guess – while others were for men who were attracted to their daughters and didn’t know what to do about it or who were trying to get suggestions as to how to let their daughters know how they felt about them without ruining things (or getting divorced or arrested!). (I later found some that were mainly sick fucks writing about all the sick things they wanted to do with and to their daughters.)

There were also groups and sites devoted to the daughters – those who were already having sex with their fathers, and those who were attracted to their fathers and were maybe hoping to get ideas from other girls as to how to get their fathers to show interest in them.

And there were the forums for people like us, like Ally and me, where the fathers and daughters both participated, sharing their stories and their lives, and how their relationships got started and the obstacles and challenges they encountered, and how they dealt with them. And a significant percentage of couples simply sharing the joy and satisfactions of their “illicit, immoral” incestuous relationships.

I started reading them, and, of course, I was mostly disappointed. Once you got into them it seemed like most were written by fathers – or at least, they said they were fathers – who lusted after their daughters and wanted to know how to get them into bed. Other seemed to be pure fantasy, guys – probably single guys – having fantasies about fucking their “daughters” – the younger, the better.

But I found one site called “familyTies.group” (I learned that many of them had “domain names” ending in .group or .chat) where the contributors seemed to be more legit. They were less about sex – real or fantasized – and more about the practical and the emotional challenges to their relationships, and the conflicts that come from being in love while at the same time still needing to be a parent. And also, the practicalities of trying to keep the relationship secret from their spouses (and neighbors, and the authorities!).

Then one evening Ally found me viewing a page of irregularly formatted fairly dense text. I explained to her what it was and that the web page looked that way because it was not a professional web site but more an informal place where people, ordinary people, could simply talk – write – about what was on their minds.

“Can I read some?”

I didn’t see any harm. Besides, Ally might have – heck, probably does have – her own questions and uncertainties, and maybe even some things about herself or us that she wants to ask about, or even to share with other people who might understand the same things she’s experiencing.

After I showed her – and cautioned her about never, ever writing anything that could be used to identify her or us, or even the town where we live – from time to time I’d see Ally on her computer, looking at pages that had this same kind of informal “format” (or lack of format). I told her that if there was anything she ever wanted to ask me about or talk about that I’d be happy to, as much or as little as she wanted, but she never did so I never said anything about it.

Still, I wondered... ~ ~ ~

Apparently, one of the things you can get from these forums is ideas.

Like the time, one evening, when I was sitting on the couch and Ally was kneeling over me, straddling me with her legs on either side of my thighs, and we were kissing – pretty seriously, somewhere between a young girl hugging and kissing her daddy and a couple making out.

Anyhow, Ally was wearing a T-shirt and a short skirt, like a tennis skirt, which is fairly typical for her when the house is warm enough. And my arms are around her, and we’re kissing in a way that fathers and daughters aren’t supposed to. Her little skirt has flipped up in back, and my arm that’s around her near her waist starts to slide down, ‘til now my fingers are touching the elastic waistband of her bikini panties.

Only halfway thinking, I use my fingertips to lift the elastic, and my hand slips down inside the satin panties, and the skin there feels so soft and smooth that my hand just “naturally” keeps on sliding down, and now my fingers are cupped around the smooth flesh of one firm teenage buttock. And Ally hasn’t said a thing or made any indication that she wants to get away or wants me to stop.And without really thinking about it – okay, only half-way thinking about it! – my fingers start to slip into the crevice, in between her butt cheeks. And once again, without thinking, I’m starting to slide my fingers up and down “in that place” – in the crevice of her ass.

“You want to do it, don’t you, Daddy?”

“What, Sweetheart?”

“You want to put it in there – your thing, don’t you, Daddy?”And all of a sudden I realize what I – what we – have been heading toward.

“Oh, no, Sweetheart – I’d never do anything like that! I’d never want to hurt you like that!” But I couldn’t believe what my daughter said next.

“But I want you to, Daddy. I’ve been waiting for you to.”

I couldn’t believe what I was hearing my daughter say!But before I could tell her that she was mistaken – that I’d never do anything like that to hurt her, she said, “I’ve been wanting you to, Daddy. I’ve read about it on those group sites we visit and I’ve seen pictures on the internet, and I want that for you – for us.

“Jim...”

Now I am Jim – husband, lover, and perhaps soon-to-be sodomizer.

“I want you to stick your thing – your cock – into my bottom and do it there – fuck my bottom ‘til you cum, as many times as you want.”

I couldn’t believe what my daughter was saying. On the one hand, I was scared stiff of hurting my precious daughter physically. And maybe even worse, maybe doing something so terrible that she may want to avoid sex of any kind.