Chapter 4

Bob woke to find her gone. He was confused. How could something like that have happened and he not wake up until it was too late?

He lay there thinking about it. He had fucked his daughter! A smile formed on his lips unbidden as he remembered her correcting him. Okay. He had made love to his daughter. Sort of. But in his dream it had been his wife. If she was still here this never would have happened. She had failed him again and she’d been gone more than fourteen years when she did it!

But Cindy wasn’t gone. She hadn’t screamed and run away. If anything she had accepted what happened with astonishing aplomb. He thought it was ironic that his daughter was more loyal to him than his wife had been.

He threw the covers off and sat up. That was when he found the note she’d left him. It said: “I love you” with a smiley face drawn under that. With just a few words she’d let him know everything was fine.

He had morning wood, the iron hard kind. He wondered if his daughter had looked at it when she got up. Had she done more than look? The way he slept he’d never have known.

He sat on the pot rather than trying to aim with an unbendable appendage. When he was finished it stayed hard. He looked at it. That had been inside Cindy last night!

He remembered her final words to him before they went back to sleep.

Suddenly he was jacking his cock, imagining them waking up again and not stopping this time.

He tried to aim in the commode, but ended up wiping his semen up off the rim of the bowl and the floor with a wad of toilet paper.

He hadn’t cum that hard in years.

Bob stared at the little piece of paper on his desk. It had come from a small pad they used to establish a grocery list. As they used something up, or thought of something they needed to get, it was added to the list. Then it was torn off on shopping day and a new one started. For her to write that note meant she was thinking about him after she’d gotten up and was probably eating breakfast.

She’d had plenty of time to decide too much had happened, that things had gone too far. Obviously she hadn’t felt that way, and she’d taken the time to let him know in a simple way. That note had let him work for most of the day. He glanced at it frequently and it calmed him.

At three in the afternoon he was taking a break, sipping a cup of coffee, staring at the note when the realization that had been niggling at his subconscious mind finally rose to the surface.

He was going to fuck his daughter. He winced, because that four letter word kept reverberating in his mind. That’s what anyone else would call it. People would say, “Can you believe it? He fucked his own daughter!” Those people wouldn’t call it making love. They’d call it fucking. The word blinked in his mind like a neon light, turning on and off.

But it would happen, sooner or later. Probably sooner. She hadn’t complained. Not only that, she’d suggested she’d welcomed another “accident.” She’d written that note after waking up and, no doubt, thinking about how she was no longer a virgin. She’d lost her virginity and it had been under conditions nobody would call ‘normal’. And yet, she’d written him a little love note. This wasn’t a daughter telling her dad she loved him like millions of girls said it on a daily basis. This was from a woman to the man who had taken her virginity. And the smiley face indicated she wasn’t upset about it at all.

So it would happen again, and this time it wouldn’t be while they were unconscious, having dreams. It would be intentional. Both of them would be fully aware of what was happening. In fact ... it would quite likely happen more than once.

He had a little daydream wherein Cindy basically took the place of his absent wife. In this fantasy he came up behind her while she was doing something in the kitchen and slid his hands around her body, intending to lift them to cup her breasts.

His hands ran into a swollen belly and he actually jerked, in reality, opening his eyes.

He was mildly astonished that he’d accepted this situation without actually thinking about it. Some part of his mind that was still sane had reminded him - pointedly - that there were consequences to going down this path. She wasn’t on the pill and he hadn’t had a condom in the house in over a decade.

He frowned, trying to remember when his conscious mind had abandoned sanity and accepted the fact that it was inevitable that he was going to commit incest with his daughter. He knew it would happen. He could feel it in his bones. The slippery slope they had hopped onto was wide and long and he couldn’t see any way of them stopping unless he sent her away. It would kill him to do that. That was even more unthinkable than having sex with her.

His thought process was interrupted by Cindy coming through the door. Her “I’m home!” went into his ears and somehow, filled his penis with blood. He glanced at his watch. He’d been just sitting there thinking about things for over an hour.

She appeared in his office door.

“Hi,” she said, leaning against the jamb. She looked so gorgeous it made him weak.

Usually she went to her room, changed clothes (or just took them off) and did her homework. On this day she came into the room, pulled his desk chair away from the desk and turned him to face her. She was wearing a skirt, which allowed her to straddle his thighs and sit down, facing him.

Instead of saying anything, she leaned toward him and bestowed on him a smoking-hot kiss that made it perfectly clear she thought of him as her lover, rather than her father. Somehow his hands came up to grip her breasts, squeezing them gently.

When she pulled back he gave it his last gasp.

“If we keep doing this I’m going to end up fucking you.”

She didn’t correct him this time.

“I know.” Her voice made it sound careless, as if he’d said, “You have to go to school tomorrow.”

Then she kissed him again, this time with not quite as much passion. When that kiss broke she licked his lips with the tip of her tongue and leaned back.

“But I have to do homework first. And supper. After that we’ll see what happens.”

He was dumbstruck, and his reply was automatic.

“Okay.”

Bob’s mind continued to whirl as Cindy’s behavior continued to be as unremarkable and normal as it had ever been. She didn’t tease him, or make any further reference to what it sounded like she intended to happen later. During supper she talked about school, and some of her friends. She notified her father of upcoming events and asked him if she could host a sleepover two weeks hence. The only anomaly was that she asked about his current projects, something she had never taken interest in before. Had he been in full control of his mental abilities, that would have been the only evidence detectable that she was nervous.

But he wasn’t thinking straight. His mind was filled with images of what might potentially take place in a short time. Some of them were ridiculous, such as the one in which she appeared in lingerie of the type sold by Fredericks of Hollywood. That was silly, since she didn’t own anything like that. But his mind was rattled, at war with itself, and he couldn’t concentrate on any particular plan of action because such things kept popping into his head. At one point he would think about “just saying no” and the next thing he thought of was an image of what he would be saying “no” to. That might involve a view of them from outside his body, looking down as his bulk covered hers, his hips thrusting rapidly while her hands smoothed over his back and her voice whined, “Oh, faster, Daddy, I’m almost there.”

The irony of all this was that Cindy was much calmer. She did, in fact, plan on feeling that pressure in her vagina again, later. Her nervousness wasn’t about going that far. It was about the fact that she couldn’t remember as much about “losing her virginity” as she wished she could. It had happened quickly. Her memories were of feeling very good, though, and that was what motivated her to do that again, on a more intentional level.

Another difference between them was that while Bob’s reservations were rooted in culture and societal conventions, Cindy didn’t care about them. Like many teenagers she thought that what she wanted was her business and nobody else’s. In her opinion, what happened in the privacy of their own home was just that - private.

A third difference involved the complicated contrast between how men and women approach intimacy. Men have quick triggers and are ready, literally within seconds, to mate. Women like to build up to the event, letting their passion heat up over time. They anticipate things and that is part of the pleasure. It’s a little like the difference between those people who enjoy looking at the present under the Christmas tree and those who can’t wait to open it.

In Bob’s case, her calm pronouncement that something very intimate would happen later gave him an erection. It vacillated between being hard and then flagging a bit, and then becoming firm again, as his mind kept bouncing from pro to con.

In Cindy’s case, the anticipation had her pussy wet by supper time and, by the time she suggested they watch a movie she wanted to masturbate.

The only stick in the spokes to her plan was that when supper was finished, and the dishes done, it was only seven o’clock, too early to go to bed. For a married couple that wouldn’t have been an issue. A wife might say, “I feel frisky. Want to get lucky?” and her husband would say, “I was hoping you’d say that.”

But this wasn’t a married couple. They weren’t “living together” in a common law type union, either. They were, primarily, father and daughter ... not lovers.

The fact that Cindy had proclaimed her intent, or at least acceptance of them becoming lovers was the elephant in the room.

“You want to watch TV?” asked Bob, whose fantasies had supplied at least a dozen other possible scenarios for her to suggest.

“I guess,” she said. “Would you rather do something else?”

Bob’s brain got close to overload as the possibilities bombarded him and his conscience berated him at the same time.

“TV is fine,” he said, weakly.

Cindy turned on the TV and Roku, booting Netflix. She scrolled through the offerings, looking for a romantic comedy. Her eye was caught by The Princess Bride, which she had loved as a little girl and she highlighted that.

“Is this okay?” she asked, turning to look at her father, who had sat down on the double recliner he usually sat in. “I know you’ve seen it a dozen times, but I’d like to watch it again.”

“Fine,” said Bob, who didn’t think he’d pay attention to anything they watched.

She started it and then came to remove the miscellaneous papers, pillows, computer mouse, and other things Bob normally kept on the other side of the recliner. She placed them in a neat pile on the floor and then sat down next to her father. His leg rest was up, so she pulled hers up, too. Then she leaned against him, lifting his arm to put it around her.

“Cindy,” said Bob, a little breathless.

“We can talk later,” she said. “The movie is starting.”

“This is later,” he said.

She looked up at him.

“Do you want to go to bed right now?”

“No!” he gasped.

“Then be quiet and watch the movie,” she said.

Bob was actually feeling a little better. The movie had distracted him enough to let his mind calm. Cindy hadn’t acted like a temptress or even indicated she was thinking about things sexual at all. She hadn’t touched him in any patently sexual way or sought his touch in that manner. His cock was finally soft again. Currently his hand was touching her upper arm and she was simply snuggling with him. It was the kind of thing that had happened hundreds of times and it helped him feel like things were normal.

Then the movie was over and, without warning, she turned and lay across his body, facing him. Her arms went around his neck and she pulled up for a kiss. It happened quickly enough that Bob wasn’t prepared for it and, when her lips came into contact with his, all the biological urges he’d been battling with came to the fore and he kissed her back.

Oddly, that kiss calmed him even more. Her lips communicated a complete acceptance of the new component in their relationship. It was a lover’s kiss and she was proclaiming herself as his lover.

It was her willingness to pursue this, her lack of nervousness about being a lover, that was the straw that broke the camel’s back.

He pulled his lips from hers and looked in her eyes.

“If we do this there is no turning back,” he said.

“I know,” she said, simply. “But it’s that way with everything. No matter what we do in life, it can’t be undone.”

“This is a serious thing,” he said.

“I know that, too. And I know it’s socially unacceptable, and that if anybody ever finds out that bad things would happen. I’ve thought about all of this, Daddy. I know it’s serious, but it would be serious no matter who I chose to do this with. I love you. I want to be as close as possible to you. And I can’t think of anything that’s closer than making love.”

“I can’t believe this,” he sighed.

“Well it’s true,” she said.

“That’s not what I meant. What I meant is that I never intended for anything like this to happen.”

“I didn’t either. It just did.”

“So ... what now?” he asked.

“I think it’s bedtime,” she said.

“Shit,” he groaned.

“Am I so ugly?” She pulled back.

“Of course not. You’re gorgeous. You’re sexy. Part of me wants to jump your bones right now. But another part of me keeps yelling that this isn’t a good idea. I don’t want to do anything that could hurt you, or us.”

“The only way anything could hurt us is if anybody else finds out about it,” she said. “I’m certainly not going to tell anybody.”

“I wouldn’t either,” he said. “I’m a dad. I worry. It’s part of being a father.”

“I get that,” she said. “It’s sweet. But it doesn’t change how I feel.”

“Can’t I just do what we’ve already done? Hasn’t that satisfied you before?”

“Yes,” she said. “I love that.” She was quiet for a little bit, and then went on. “Do you remember all those times you warned me about how there’s a natural progression to all this, and that I needed to be careful what I let boys do?”