Chapter 2: An Opportunity Taken

The front door closed behind Sasha as she left to meet up with her friends for a marathon shopping expedition. She seemed to like them; endless searches, few purchases, the hunt more exciting than the capture. I carried a mug of steaming coffee to the study and booted the computer up. A few keystrokes and Gmail opened. Eight emails - about par for the course.

storyname= Serendipity
comments= fuck yeah! Brilliant! Made my dick hard.

I grinned. Maybe not the most articulate comment but concise and honest. I opened the next.

storyname= Serendipity
comments= overall a nice story. But you need an editor. If you write in the first person you cannot possibly know what Clarissa is thinking. You should read other more accomplished...

I deleted it. It didn't bother me to hear that old argument. I knew how to write, maybe better than he did. Some people were hard-wired to dislike creativity or non-conformity, and felt it was their solemn duty to point out my errors. My harshest critics were other writers of erotica, something I didn't understand. They, of all people, should be more forgiving. Perhaps by denigrating my work it elevated theirs. That was fine. Their comments were given as much deliberation as my filing system for their emails - hitting the trash button.

storyname= Serendipity
comments= your the best riter on this site. I love your storys. Keep writing._i}

At least they commented. I read the other emails. One caught my attention.

storyname= Serendipity
comments= Hi Renpet,
I just wanted to thank you for your stories. I especially love the father-daughter ones. You write so well, almost as if you're reading my mind. I read your stories and pretend it's my dad and me together loving each other. Your writing shows me you understand how desire hurts and makes me ache for him. Thank you for bringing me so much pleasure. Thanks for letting me live something I can't have in real life.

I smiled as I read it. Hearing from female readers always made me feel good. Women are such strange and wondrous creatures yet unfathomable to me. To know that I might have touched on how they feel was a great compliment.

Turning the computer off - I'd respond to those that included their email addresses later - I turned my attention to weekend chores. That one email followed me.

I wondered what the reader could do. It's hard to live with someone whom you desire so much. I could attest to that. I'd started writing erotica when Sasha turned twelve years old and began to show signs of puberty; small buds breaking the plane of her T-shirts and a maturity emerging in how she carried herself, no longer the little girl racing everywhere, hair flying. Her emerging adolescence had been powerfully attractive to me and in my erotic stories I could experience what in reality was forbidden and unattainable. I could live my sexual fantasies.

Lunch was a gourmet grilled chicken, roasted red pepper, and arugula sandwich with Sriracha mayonnaise; a spicy, flavorful sandwich bought in the food market as I shopped for dinner. I never bought more than a couple of meals ahead of time. Strolling through the bustling market studying fresh fish in beds of shaved ice and delectable cuts of different meats behind glass counters was fun to me. I would pick a protein and let it and my imagination guide the menu for the night.

The milk-fed veal looked great. Maybe I'd make Veal à la Crème Flambé. Yup. Serve it with homemade broad pasta and grilled asparagus. Perfect. I even had the ideal wine to accompany it, an ice cold, dry, Petit Chablis full of fruits and gunflint.

Back at the condo, with purchases put away, I made a mug of tea and settled in the study. A few clicks and Gmail was up and open. Two more emails. I scanned them and enjoyed them. Two more people had found pleasure in my story.

With no sign of Sasha returning from her afternoon shopping safari, I set about answering the three emails that had included their return address. The last one was the woman's. I read it again just to enjoy it. Then I saw the return address. Blood drained from my head making me lightheaded.

It couldn't be. Could it?

A quick glimpse into my Outlook contact list and there it was - sasha .4843@homemail.com. My heart jumped. All outside noises faded away. Disbelieving, I checked again. Yup. That was my daughter's email address! Sasha was reading my erotic stories! Well I'll be damned.

A flood of thoughts swamped me: Sasha wasn't a lesbian; Sasha was reading sex stories; my daughter was sexually attracted to me! For minutes I sat staring at the monitor, thoughts tumbling. They raced from shock to excitement to surprise to elation. Arousal arrived. Sasha fantasized about me!

I leaned back and stared at the monitor deep in thought. I leaned forward and re-read her email, then leaned back and tried to think about how to respond. I knew what I wanted to do. What I wanted to do was to grab her when she entered the front door and kiss her and tell her I felt the same way; I wanted her, too. But I couldn't.

How would she react? Shock? Would she feel betrayed? Would it embarrass her?

It took two cups of tea for me to be able to think clearly, ignore the excitement that thrummed through my veins, and the erection that would need looking after soon. Taking a deep, calming breath, I responded.

The source of this story is Storiesonline

To read the complete story you need to be logged in:
Log In or
Register for a Free account (Why register?)

Get No-Registration Temporary Access*

* Allows you 3 stories to read in 24 hours.