Her

Ok, I admit it. I wanted a son. My first and only child was a girl. However, one minute after she was born, I was holding my daughter in my arms, and she instantly became the light of my life. I loved her completely from that point on.

After Mary’s rough pregnancy, I had a vasectomy. We had agreed it was for the best, and I did not want her to have to take pills all the time.

I also admit that I raised my daughter as a boy. Ok, my wife Mary, and I raised her with me just adding a bit of tomboy-ness to her life. We named her Katherine after my wife’s grandmother, but to me, she was Kat.

No little sissy was I going to raise. Kat had train sets, army men, and a B-B gun by age 7. She wore pants far more than dresses, blue jeans and camouflage were her favorites. I even convinced her that blue was her favorite color. Ok, baby blue.

She liked hunting and fishing. She would grab that fish off her hook without a second thought. She climbed trees, built forts, played baseball, and kept me busy chasing her. Yes, Mary always made sure Kat had dresses and pink things, too. However, I could tell that Kat preferred my way. She was a tomboy for sure.

All this would change.

Mary worked as an English teacher at the high school, and I was a Wildlife Trooper for the State of Alaska. Kat was my partner. By age 10, I would pick her up right after school, and we would head out into the backcountry. The job took us well away from the usual bustle of city life, so we got lots of alone time together. Her eagle eyes helped spot plenty of potential issues, from an animal caught in a trap to a poacher trying to hide out from us.

She probably even saved my life a couple of times, keeping an eye out as I went to talk to folk that we would come upon. Many of the old roughnecks out there would tone down a notch and clean their language when she would step out, particularly if she had Rusty, our fateful husky/whatever mix. She may have been rough and tumble, but she was still a girl. Quite a cute one, too, being tall and thin, yet a no-nonsense little girl.

Once, I was questioning a dude about what looked like extra kills when Kat hollered out for this other fellow to come out of the bush. Rusty had alerted, and Kat spotted him trying to hide. He was lowering his .30-06 as he came from behind me. Afterward, I kissed Kat on the forehead and gave Rusty a treat. That guy could have popped me, and I would not have known what happened.

Anyway, Kat, Rusty and I were out together all the time. Sometimes, I’d work weekends, so I would pick Kat up from school on Friday afternoon and would not be back until that Monday morning, dropping her off at school again. She would head to the gym locker rooms to take a shower and change for classes. Her poor mother would have to try to see her daughter during recess or lunch. She would also see me only as our paths crossed.

During those weekends together, we camped out in the wilderness. We had a two-person tent and sleeping bags. Rusty would sleep at our feet and let us know if any varmints were nosing about. We would lie there, or sit by the fire and talk about all kinds of things. She always had a new subject or interest to tell me. Her eyes sparkled with her excitement on the latest new thing she had discovered.

I hate to admit it, but I was around her more than I was with my wife. Mary and I were doing ok, but I guess I have to say that we were apart a lot. I probably didn’t pay as much attention to our marriage as I should have.

Kat and I did have our disagreements from time to time. I was rather conservative and, well, was more headstrong. She had opinions about politics, nature, and other such things that I learned not to tread. Particularly those times during her period. She hated having those because she had to fiddle with pads and stuff, and it made her moody. Really moody.

I was somewhat scared during those times, mainly because it reminded me that she was now a young woman, growing up. I think it also started to shift her view of me even though I did not recognize it.

Looking back, I could see the looks she would give, the talks about relationships and love, the kisses at night that shifted from cheek to quick pecks on the lips, and the hugs that sometimes lasted a long time.

Tease

Around the campfire, if the weather turned cold and wet, which of course, was often, she would sit in my lap with our arms around each other, and we would talk about things. Well, usually, she would talk, and I would play with her hair or hold her close, answering only when she would turn and look questioningly. It was those times that she became a girl to me and not my tomboy.

Sometimes, I sat outside the tent as she prepared to go to bed, and I’d catch myself watching her silhouette as she undressed. I would reprimand myself and look away. Other times, I would hear her laugh at me as I climbed out into the cold air in just my long johns or boxers and hop around a bit, knowing that she could see my butt or other things, even if covered. While on hot days, she would be down to just sports shorts and a tee, all long legs and bare arms, at least until the flies or mosquitos attacked.

We also had quite a laugh at each other at times when we would bath in a stream or river. Just note that Alaskan waters are not known for being warm. We wore bathing suits, of course, but there was that one time where I came upon her bathing alone by a stream. She was at the edge of the stream, washing her hair. I tried to sneak up but cracked a stick. She jumped up and spun around, thinking I was a bear or something and gave out a yell before she saw me. I froze in my tracks because she stood there completely naked just ten feet away.

“Dad!” she said but did not turn. Nor did I.

I saw a newly minted teen of perfect proportions. Her breasts were rising and falling, nipples hard and her little girl bush, a brown hair patch.

“You scared me! ... Uh. Dad.”

It was then that she finally half-heartedly covered herself and gave me the eye. I know I blushed red and stuttered sorry and looked away. That night she seemed more attentive and more feminine to me. Her goodnight kiss lingered a little longer. Her face stayed closer to mine as she fell asleep. All I could think was how amazing she looked and how much I loved her.

There reaches a point in the life of a daughter when hormones become a driving force. A force not only for girls but for their fathers. And at 14, this daughter has become, well, interesting.

Acne is an issue, periods, of course, physical changes making girls more curvy, hair important, very important, boys become more than just a pain, and the worst of them all, they become moody.

Kat was reasonably lucky with the acne issue. Though, you would have thought the end of the world came if a single pimple appeared. Periods, well, I learned that if she growled at me, I kept quiet, or changed the subject. I also made sure we stopped at the last grocery or pharmacy before leaving town, as well as making sure she was supplied with cash, which seemed to disappear at an ever-increasing rate. Do not get between a daughter and her ‘necessities.’ Hair grew longer, no longer cut well above the collar for this one, and hair cuts became hour-long endeavors at twice, three times, that tomboy cost. Kat’s interest in boys was still not quite fathomable. Sometimes she looked at a boy so intensely, I felt like pulling out my rifle, while other times, I almost felt sorry for the boy receiving her withering looks ... almost.

But, that curvy part. That was the rough one. Suddenly your little joy is, well, let me put it nicely, jaw-droppingly damn fine looking. That baggy diapered little darling is fitting jeans like they were painted over a perfectly rounded butt, with hips, waist, and chest curved in all the wrong places for a father to look at.

And those 14-year-old breasts filling in their bra. Or worst, no bra, headlights on. And then those legs. Those endlessly long legs that 14-year-old girls seem to like to show the world. All the world. All the leg. From cute little toes to well up those hips. Well up those shapely hips. Then there is in-between those legs. That 14-year-old thigh gap.

And fathers have to protect her from, well, everything. Except when that fine daughter decides she likes her daddy. Likes her daddy a little more than she should, and daddy has to protect himself.

Anyway, I stop by the high school to pick up my newly minted freshman, this time in her sports outfit of sports bra and sport shorts. She shucks her hoodie in the truck and then makes me endure her deciding to change into long pants and button shirt, right here as we go down the road. Why can’t she do that BEFORE I pick her up? Good question. I don’t ask. Instead I keep my eyes on the road, well mostly, as she plops off her tennies and ankle socks, pulls on some heavy wool socks, then without even batting an eye, shucks her sports shorts, leaving some rather tight looking, (I didn’t look, your honor) panties and then shakes the whole truck pulling on jeans, THOSE jeans, the ones that apparently always come two sizes too small.

Unfortunately for me, I know she is doing this on purpose, just to tease me.

She is sucking in her belly and buttoning those jeans as I tentatively query her about her day, trying to look at the road at least part of the time. I get one last glance of her more than flat abdomen before it disappears under her shirt. She has answered my question, but I didn’t catch her answer.

She is a heartbreaker, alright.

Beginnings

Then there was that time where we were out following a game path that had boot prints in it. Suddenly, SNAP!, and a yell from Kat. She had hit a small animal leg hold trap. It had caught her boot, saving her foot, but its force had caused her to trip and sprained her ankle.

She looked as mad as a bobcat and growled like one. I don’t think we needed to worry about any animals or the owner for a while. The whole valley heard that girl cuss.

“God damn mother-fucker son-of-a-bitch asshole. If I find that idiot, I’m going to ... oooh, makes me so mad! OWW! DAD!”

She was down on the ground and tugged away at that trap. She would have torn it to pieces if she had a crowbar in her hands. I knew to hold on to my laughter at her cussing and scrambling around, trying to free herself. I found a sturdy stick to pry it open, but by then, she had torn up her boot pretty severely, and her ankle started to hurt as she put weight on it.

After being freed, she virtually destroyed that trap, finishing by yanking its anchor out of the ground and throwing it as far as she could. I did not try to contain her; just let her get out her frustrations. She refused my help at first, limping and using that stick as a crutch as we headed back.

She finally gave in, “Dad, help?”

“Hum, piggyback,” is all I said.

I bent down, and she climbed onto my back.

“Oof, you’re getting heavy, girl. I’m feeding you too well.”

“Home, my stallion!” she retorted as I blushed yet again.

She hugged tightly to me, played with my ear with her nose, and kept kissing my neck anytime she got a chance. She was a giggly little girl again, carried by her father.

Back at the truck, Rusty woke and was happy to see us. I sat her down, removed her mangled boot, and thanked the manufacturer that the steel toe had kept her toes from being crushed.

“Tickles, Dad,” she giggled as I removed her sock and wiggled her foot.

“Looks like you’ll live but need to watch it for signs of swelling.”

She held up the other foot urging me to remove that boot as well, the little stinker. As I did, I tickled her foot and made her laugh and kick wiggling her toes.

“Dad! Stop it!” even as she obviously wanted more.

She was so cute now. A tomboy turned back to a young girl. It was then she leaned over, and her arms went around my neck. Her face moved close to mine. I could tell that look. That look a woman gets when she wants a kiss.

She did not wait for me but pressed right into my lips. Her mouth parted, and a far too passionate kiss between father and daughter ensued. By the time I recovered my senses, she had already pulled away satisfied. That was not a paternal kiss. I should have stopped that right then and had a discussion with her.

But I was too taken aback. The taste of her lips, the softness of her body ... It was only then I realized my hands were still on her hips. I was between her legs, albeit heavy jean covered legs. As I moved away, her attitude shifted from the feminine and back to her tomboyish-ness. She picked up her boots and socks, called for Rusty to return, swung herself into the passenger seat, closed the door, and was ready to leave as if nothing had happened. Nothing except my worldview had shifted. My now fifteen-year-old daughter was seducing me.

I stood, cleared my head, and never said anything as we drove home. She was back to her usual self, except her views of fur trapping were not in their favor.

Urges

Though, that was nothing compared to the embarrassing time I caught her pleasuring herself!

We had set up camp, and I was going to look over the area. Well, and do other things as well.

“Sweetheart, I need to check the area out. Be back in about an hour.”

“Ok, daddy!”

Actually, I needed relief. Not that kind of relief. THAT OTHER kind. Mary and I had not been able to hit a ‘suitable’ schedule together in a while, and I had caught myself staring at my teenage daughter’s butt in her tight jeans as we set up camp and knew I needed to relieve my sexual tension.

I tromped away and then changed direction and headed towards a nearby stream. It was probably three hundred yards from camp, plenty of distance and private.

It was between mosquito and fly season, so it was warm and pleasant in the sunshine. A little stream babbled by me. I took a quick look around, undid my pants, and pushed them down. I wrapped my fingers around my prick and tried to conjure up images as my eyes defocused.

Too dry, I bent and dipped my fingers into the cold water and onto my manhood. Oh, shock, but then stiffening. My pants were down around my ankles by now. I really wanted to take them off, but was already stroking myself, which made stopping undesirable.

Desirable. I thought about Mary and our first time doing it together. We were in high school, hiding in the back of my father’s jeep. Then in her room, while her parents slept. I switched to using just one finger and my thumb, trying to recreate the feel of young Mary’s fingers on me.

High school sweethearts. Near Kat’s age. Kat. I started thinking about Kat. I was stroking myself as I thought about my high school Kat. Her kisses. Seeing her naked. Her sexy body. Kat looked like a teenage Mary. I bent backward, feeling the sun on my bare loins as I stroked. The wetness gone but not wanting to stop.

Mary, sneaking kisses with her in the school hallway. Kat stealing kisses with me. I stroked faster, fingertips only, trying to touch only the vein on top and the tube on the bottom. It felt like naked Mary as she touched me. I could see naked Kat, her bush, her breasts, her lips on mine. I remembered having sex with Mary and making her pregnant. Pregnant with Kat.

My hand wrapped entirely around again, and I beat harder, faster. I was coming. Coming. Close now...

“Ugh!” I grunted as it hit. I came HARD!

My brain blanked with the throbbing ejaculation. The first spurt hurtled away, hitting the water. I jerked again, barely able to keep my footing. The world disappeared as sex flooded my brain. I wobbled and found a small sapling to balance with as the next spurts splattered onto the dirt and grass, just missing my crumpled pants around my ankles.

I looked around again, feeling embarrassed at myself and at thinking about my teen daughter in such a sexual way.

Nevertheless, that was just the beginning of this day.

I returned to camp well before one hour. Sunset lit the sky, and evening approached. A small campfire was crackling. I expected Kat to be sitting around the fire, possibly cooking up something, at least for her to eat. I did not see her around.

Just before I called out, I heard a noise, a moan. I thought Kat might be sick, so I went towards our tent. There was another noise and then rustling. The flap was partially open.

Inside was my darling. It was immediately clear what she was doing. She was pleasuring herself, masturbating, just as I had done!

My daughter was caressing her bare breasts with one hand and exploring between her legs with the other. Her pants completely off, naked, and her shirt pulled up over the top of her breasts.

I froze, unable to move, not daring to make a sound for fear of detection. No way did I want to embarrass her. Worse, even after just coming myself, I felt myself respond. Just watching her was astonishing. I could not take my eyes off her. She radiated youthful sex as her pleasure intensified. It was incredibly erotic watching my Kat, my baby; my tomboy turned very feminine, lustful, needing to sex herself.

Her fingers circled and rubbed faster between her legs, now spread wide as her other hand continued to caress her breasts, nipples hard. I could hear her panting. I held my breath to keep from making a sound. My eyes were unable to move from the scene. It was more intense than anything I had ever witnessed, even with Mary.

My Kat wiggled, and her knees bent upwards. Suddenly, her hand, the one that had been between her legs, came up to her mouth. Fingers went into her mouth, licking and moistening them and then back between her legs. I was astounded. She had licked them, tasting herself as she wet them. I leaked into my pants at that beguiling sight. I desired her as I watched my daughter finger herself, but instantly embarrassed by my thoughts. Then it happened.

She came.

Her hips thrust upwards. Her hand left her breasts and grasped the blanket, clenching it. Her tummy quivered, and knees locked together, trapping her hand still buried into her sex. I watched my daughter’s orgasm.

“Daadddy...” she moaned quietly to herself.

But I had not heard her words. I had slipped backward away, ashamed for invading her privacy.

I snuck away from camp and stayed for longer than my original hour. When I returned, there was only normality.

“Dad, you’re late. I kept some food warm for you. I already ate.”

“Sorry for being late,” is all I could mumble out.

The image of my darling in her most intimate time repeatedly ran in my mind as I tentatively nibbled at the meal she had prepared. I was afraid to say anything, fearful I might let something slip. I did not realize the direction we were headed as I did not know (or did not want to know) what she thought about me, that she thought of me sexually.

That night in our sleeping bags, it was apprehensive, at least for me. When she kissed me goodnight, with her lips on mine, I thought I could taste her. Maybe just my imagination, but it didn’t help either way. Every move she made in that sleeping bag increased the tension. I felt like the teen boy lying in bed with a girl for the first time, not quite sure what to do.

I began repeating to myself, ‘I am her father ... I am her father... ‘

It took a while, but we slept. Just slept.

The next morning, everything seemed normal. I compartmentalized what had happened that previous evening, and Kat was back being a tomboy. So I thought.

Winter came, and Kat became busier at school, but we still went out together occasionally. She talked more about her classes and, unfortunately for me, boys. Mostly about how mad they made her, which was fine to me. That would change.

Anyway, Kat was growing like a weed, and at 16, she was rather tall, maybe five foot six, and thin. She always complained that she was not big enough. I think she meant taller and not big ... boobed? I did not ask. She was as cute as any teenage girl was and more adorable than most. She was also tough and could probably take down most any of the high school boys.

Of course, there were many times when she was off doing her things after school; friends, sports, shopping ... and boys. Mary and I had to watch out there. Kat was the aggressive one. If she liked a boy, she did not wait for him to get around to asking her. Both Mary and I thought sixteen was still too young to get serious, even though we had been together at that age.

However, I should have realized that her being out in the wilds with me was making her mature faster too. I did not know how serious things were about to become.

Turning Point

Kat sat on the steps of the school in the chill and dampness. Days were still short and gray this mid-April. It was a few weeks past her 16^th birthday, and she was as gloomy as the day.

“I am such a FOOL!” she thought to herself.

“I should have realized.”

She was embarrassed and hated herself. She hated school. And most of all, she hated Jake.

She met him the same way all the girls met him; at the pool. The township had an indoor Olympic size pool right beside the high school, open to the public. All the kids hung out there, particularly during winter. She was in the girl’s swim team and was there several times per week practicing for spring competitions.

She had just finished laps, drying herself as she walked by the edge of the pool. With a flurry, a head popped up and shook off the water, splashing her in the process. She paused, about to fuss when he climbed out of the pool as if he owned the place.

Jake, the six-foot-plus, Nordic-build, blond, blue-eyed high school senior, now stood three feet from Kat. Water dripping from his swimmer’s body, muscles rippled as he stretched.

“Hi,” Kat tentatively said, now shy and holding back her indignation of being splashed by his caviler flourish.

“You’re Katherine, right?” as he spied her from head to toe, eyes taking in her shapely body in her one-piece suit, pausing at all the familiar places.

“Uh, yes. Kat”, she pulled her eyes away from his six-pack abs, Speedo, and his well defined male bulge. Surprised, she had not expected he would know her name at all.

“Jake,” and he held out his hand.

Of course, he was Jake. All the girls knew him. And he knew many of them, some of them too well. Here was another little sophomore for him to tap.

It was not long until they dated a few times. Then it happened. She had feigned being sick, and her mom left her in bed at home. Her father was away for a few days up north. Jake had come over. They had sex. Her first time. She hated it and cried afterward. He just left her there. A few days later, she felt terrible and lonely. They had sex again in the back of his car. That was it. She did not want anymore, and he did not care. He had other girlfriends available.

So Kat sat, waiting for her father, disgusted with herself. He pulled up, greeted her with a hug and a kiss on the forehead. She wanted to scream and cry and fall into his arms. She loved him, her father. She hated boys, particularly THAT boy.

Instead, she took her father’s hand, weaved her fingers with his and moved over, sitting against him, and leaned her head on his shoulder as they went. He realized something was bothering her. He offered conversation, how was your day, when is your first swim meet, how were classes. She answered, each with short non-committal answers.

He knew not to pry, so he started talking about future plans, maybe a trip to California. Perhaps a photography trip to Denali. She had previously given up interest in hunting after seeing so many dead animals and of course, that time with the animal trap, so he had traded her rifle for a camera.

She stayed quiet as they headed up towards the Harris cabin, stopping only to buy some supplies. He bought her an ice cream bar and teased her, trying to get her to smile. Right as she finally started to lick it, he leaned over and bit a chunk of it.

“Daaaddd!” she finally broke her brooding.

She stayed cuddled beside him as they turned onto the logging road.

As the trees went by, Kat daydreamed about all the things she had done with her dad. Snowmobiling and dogsledding trips, that flight to Juneau, train trips to Whittier and Fairbanks. Her first fishing trip, and others that followed. That hunting trip where she had shot a buck, only a six-point, but still. Of course, the dozens of times they had camped out together. Sitting around a campfire. Sleeping in a tent together. And waking up to cool mornings and breakfasts together.

She thought of all nice restaurants he had taken her to, particularly that one last year where they stuffed themselves with snow crab legs to candlelight, and he had snuck her a glass of wine. They were like a long dating couple, at least in her mind.

Then there was that time in Seward, where he discovered their room had only a double bed, not two twins, and everything was booked due to cruise tours. She had not slept in a bed with her father since she was a little girl. She remembered being so nervous and thrilled by the idea of sleeping in the same bed together, even if all that happened was a little spooning and a kiss or two.

She felt like they were almost a married couple, doing everything together except...

She now knew what she wanted to do.

“Dad. If you could, would you marry me?”

He was taken aback by that question.

“Dad? Would you ask me to marry you? If you could, I mean.”

“That’s a rather unusual question to ask your father.”

“Just answer me.”

“Well, I would have to ask permission from your parents, you being rather ... underage. And your father would NEVER agree to it, much less your mother.”

“Dad! No, seriously. Would you marry me?”

“Girl, I would move mountains for you.”

She looked at him with that look a woman can get when they are fed up with hyperbole.

“Ok, ok, you win. Kat, yes, I would. I love you...”

He almost said, ‘I love you as if you were already my wife. Shit! I can’t think that!’

“Say it.”

“Huh?”

“Say it!”

He figured it out. He decided to give in, playing along with her.

“Kat, Katherine, will you marry me?”

She squealed and grabbed her father and almost caused them to run off the road. He knew to speak that was a bad idea, but he couldn’t resist. Because he knew she would love hearing those words.

In her mind, she said, ‘YES. I Do.’

She moved a ring over to her third finger and fidgeted with it.

The Encounter, how it happened

We were out one late afternoon early in spring. I was doing a welfare check and brought some stuff to old man Harris who lived way out away from everything. We had been driving on this old logging road for some time, and the weather was starting to turn.

Kat looked out, “Dad, maybe we should turn around?”

She looked worried, knowing that it looked like a storm coming. Another blast of winter coming. But, you know us men. We gotta do our thing.

“It’s ok honey. We’re almost there.”

Another half-hour and several more miles went by. Finally, we arrived at the old guy’s cabin. Nothing. He wasn’t around. I had no choice but to spend the next hour with Kat and Rusty looking around and calling out for him. That delay meant it was now getting dark. The sky turned from light gray to dark gray, and sleet started to fall. We were soon cold and wet from tromping about, no sign of the old coot. Since he had lived here for decades and there was nothing more we could do, I decided we had better leave before snow blocked our way.

Kat being the smart one, offered, “Shouldn’t we just stay in his cabin tonight?”

“Well, I told your mom we would be back. So, let’s just drop the supplies and go.”

Harris had offered to trade sugar, can goods, batteries, and the like for some furs and firewood. Kat made me leave the furs. It took us another half hour to swap this stuff and load the wood. Now it was getting late in the afternoon. The rain/sleet mix had changed to sleet/snow.

We were in my trusty 4x4 truck with its topper, so it should be fine, I thought. Well ok, I was somewhat worried about the one mountain pass we had to get through. It had already been messy with leftover snow and ice when we came in, but we had made it ok then.

Well, that storm hit us after about another half hour after leaving his cabin. Mixed sleet, rain, and snow were coming down hard. Visibility fell, and the logging road turned to slushy mud. After a couple near misses with sliding off the road, progress ground to a near halt, I knew we would not make it across the pass that night.

I could see Kat, and even Rusty was worried. Right then, a fricking elk came out of nowhere. I swerved, and even at our low speed, we crunched into a ditch and bam! We were stuck. With the sleet and mud, I could not get us out by just reversing. I needed to winch us. As I got out, the cold wind, wet sleet, and snow hit me. It was dark now, and Kat grabbed a big flashlight and slid out with me.