Chapter 5: The Opposite of a Fancy Date

I was more than a little worried about what had happened between me and Ava the night before. On one hand, I knew fathers weren’t supposed to be having sex with their daughters. On the other hand, the sex had been fantastic for me. More importantly, Ava didn’t emerge from her bedroom until about noon. The more time that passed without me seeing Ava, the more worried I got. When she did finally leave her room, she saw me watching TV and immediately stated, “I’m still mad at you, Daddy; I thought you wanted me to show you I knew enough to make sure the guy got a condom on. The way you were acting, I didn’t think you wanted me to say no sex on the first date.”

“Ava, I really didn’t have a plan other than taking you out for a nice meal. My brain kind of melted down when you took your dress off, and it really melted down when I saw you shimmying in just your bra and panties.”

“So it’s my fault that we had sex? You’re the one who took my panties off.”

“True, but after I did that, you got on the couch and spread your legs for me.”

“What was I supposed to do after that? I didn’t want the date to end; I was having too much fun!”

My head was swimming with my daughter’s latest revelation. Last night, she was more worried about the date ending than she was about me popping her cherry? I couldn’t quite wrap my head around that on short notice, but I had to say something as Ava glared at me. “I didn’t want the date to end either, and I’ll admit that by that point I was pretty much set on trying to have sex with you. But I didn’t start out that way. Let’s just admit that we both got carried away and probably shouldn’t have gotten so worked up that father-daughter incest sounded like a reasonable way to end the date for both of us. Also consider, if your own father gets that horny over seeing you in your bra and panties, what chance does some teen-aged boy have?”

“Fine, it was both of us, but I still feel like I’m the only one being punished here.”

Ava was wearing shapeless pajamas, which made having this conversation with her a lot easier. I still hadn’t gotten over how fantastic it felt to be inside my daughter’s pussy, and if her tits had been on display in a tight top or she was wearing one of her common midriff baring outfits, my mind would have certainly clouded with lust again.

“It was an awful lot to throw at you between the fancy meal, the dancing, and the kissing. What if we had another practice date? Something nothing like the place we had dinner last night. The exact opposite of doing something classy.”

“Like what, bowling and chicken fingers?”

“Yeah, bowling and chicken fingers; that would be perfect. I won’t get you flowers; neither of us will get dressed up, and if we end up wanting to dance and kiss when we get home, you’ll know that while it’s OK to fool around a bit after a date, we shouldn’t end up having sex.” I was still kind of amazed at my daughter’s attitude. She wasn’t upset at me for having sex with her; she was upset that having protected sex with me hadn’t convinced me that she was ready to start dating.

“So kind of like a do-over date, but I’ll be able to stay on my game because I won’t be full of thoughts of pretty flowers and lobster tail and crème brulee.” Ava mimicked being a participant in some sort of sporting event when she talked about being on her game. I’m not sure what the sport was, but the motion had her tits bouncing around under the baggy pajama top.

“Yeah, you can think of it as a do-over if you want.” I was looking at it as a do-over too. As great as it felt to have sex with my daughter, I knew it should be a one-time-only thing. Going on a second date with her would also give me a chance to show I could do something fun with my daughter without feeling compelled to try to get my dick in her pussy again, no matter how mind-blowingly sweet that pussy was.

Ava interrupted my thoughts about incest and second chances. “Speaking of lobster tail, I’m kind of hungry after stewing in my bedroom all morning. I think I’m going to eat my leftovers. Do you want me to bring you your steak?

For an outfit, Ava was in jeans and a white tee with a red and white plaid blouse over it. Instead of buttoning the blouse, it was merely knotted at the midriff. It would have been absolutely obscene without the tee underneath it.

I knocked down nine pins on the first ball and made the spare. Ava’s ball moved languidly down the lane on her first throw, and even though she hit the pins in a good spot, her ball deflected off and left five standing. “It’s not fair; I put my ball in almost the same spot you did, Daddy, but I only knocked down five pins!”

“How heavy is that thing? It was barely moving down the lane.”

“Don’t make fun of me, Daddy! I had to get a six-pound ball from the little kids section. Nothing else fits my tiny little fingers.

By frame four, I had fifty-two points, but poor Ava only had 20. That’s when our chicken finger baskets were ready. As I dipped the fried strip into barbecue sauce and Ava dipped hers into honey mustard, I asked, “How’s the chicken tender?”