Chapter 4: Getting Into Hot Water

One of the things I really missed doing with Deanna was using our hot tub together. Technically it was a fiberglass spa with jets and seats for five adults. Back when we first married, we thought nothing about the four of us jumping in nude together. The girls were so young and suits were such a hassle. When puberty struck some years later, we asked them about suiting up.

“Dad, don’t be an idiot. Your wife is right there for you to look at. She’s got the big tits, we don’t. And suits are icky.” Checking in with them from time to time, their answer was the same. Nudity was just normal for us, continuing even while they were in, and through, high school.

When Deanna’s health became a problem, she stopped using the tub completely. Not only was she never nude, she never even wore a swimsuit.

Having retired for the night, Deanna was no hindrance to the three of us having a good soak together. I went to the back patio, pulled off the heavy insulated cover, and started the pump. A couple of jets mixed air with the water to bubble and slightly foam the surface.

Returning inside, it was a relief to get free of my costume. The tights were like pantyhose and the extra-snug briefs were uncomfortable.

Now nude, I found the girls already immersed. I hoped they didn’t notice my 1/4 erection as I climbed in with them.

“Dad, what’s going on? You eyes were on my body all evening; because of my nurse costume?” Hefting her breasts above the foaming water, she added, “You’ve seen these tits plenty of times, borrring.”

“Never boring, daughter. Forgive me, I haven’t seen any live boobs in a long time.”

“Hey, what about me?” Carrie made a shelf with her forearm to also display her rack. “Mine are bigger.”

“Are not!”

“Are too!”

“Are not!”

“Are too! Dad?”

“Do you think I’m stupid? I will not choose between you. You’re both very beautiful, daughters.”

“Very diplomatic, Dad. But I know the truth.” Carrie always wanted the last word.

I hated bickering, so I kissed Dierdre to end the argument. She held my head from behind and went to town on me. When she released my head, I saw Carrie looking shocked. So I pressed a similar passionate kiss on my younger daughter.

“Alright, Dad, I got derailed. No boobs? What about Mom?”

“She has cut me off completely, by that I mean she only has her clothes off in the bathroom behind a locked door. And she won’t use the tub, not even wearing a swimsuit, as long as I’m around. We still share a bed, but she’s behind an impenetrable wall of flannel nightgowns, neck to floor.”

“But, why?”

“It has something to do with her hormones, her autoimmune disease. She won’t talk about it.”

Carrie interjected, “She will with us. We have ways of making her talk.” This last in a bad Gestapo accent.

I was uncomfortable, and changed the subject. “Dierdre, are you still going for family practice in your NP program?”