I lay with my cheek resting on her soft, firm stomach, on my side, looking at my fingers as I played with the new growth of pubic hairs on the top of her mound; silky little hairs, a small bush celebrating pubescence at its most attractive stage. Slipping my finger up over her mountain of pleasure, well, my mountain of pleasure, I traced her cleft. Her clitoral hood was still enlarged, peeking out from her labia, and further down, wet, my semen still oozing out, a slow stream leaking down between her buttocks.
As Abby combed her fingers through my hair, my mind drifted back. Could it have only been two months since this all started?
Was it was only two months ago when Abby, my thirteen year old daughter, walked up the pool steps, fingers combing through her wet auburn hair as she pushed it up and over her head, her plain blue bikini glistening and damp, small tea cup breasts sharply outlined in the clinging top, little nipples poking?
Water had streamed down her lithe form. The pubescent flare of her hips and new swell of her thighs had seductively moved side to side as she climbed the stairs, water cascading over her mound, following the outline of her cleft, dripping from her rounded vulva between the gap in her thighs. Was it only two months ago?
I know what you're thinking. Father, entranced by an alluring pubescent daughter. Perhaps. But it didn't start then.
No, it was before that. It started earlier. With the agency.
Abby was our only child. Judy, my wife of twenty years, had suffered complications in child birth that precluded us ever having more children. I had argued for adoption but Judy was satisfied with one child. I couldn't complain. Abby was a wonderful daughter. It's just I had visions of four, even five kids creating noisy havoc around the house, with the added benefit they'd keep each other busy, perfect.
As Abby grew through her childhood, I was a partially absent parent, my time and effort taken up with providing for my family and chasing wealth. In the process I managed to build a successful advertising agency with satellite offices around the country. My natural fascination with computers and immersion in the early days of the Internet had positioned me well to capitalize on the explosive growth in tech companies. I say I was lucky because my company survived the implosion of the Internet bubble in the 90's. The truth is, I was wise enough to steer clear of all those start-ups that had absolutely no business plan. They were ignorant fools.
Thus, it was Judy who was responsible for bringing up a wonderful daughter. I was unaware of Abby's personality, my interaction with her limited to weekends, and even then, to be honest, I was somewhat preoccupied. But Judy was a champion mum and did a better than admirable job with Abby.
Things changed when Abby turned twelve. Several important events took place. The first was I sold the company. This came about as the result of a confluence of events. I finally tired of dealing with high tech prima donnas who thought they knew it all. I was tired of seeing the same thing every day, I was no longer interested, the challenge gone. At the same time, Judy started dropping hints about returning to nursing, so when a multi-national ad agency foolishly offered me a ridiculously large amount to acquire the company, I was receptive.
The second event was my father passing away. We weren't close and he was only in his late sixties, but heart attacks heed no rules. Never-the-less, I realized I missed him. Mom had died several years before so Dad was my only living relative. His passing made me recognize that, despite my desire for a big family, I was guilty of partial abandonment of the one I was lucky enough to have.
The third event was even more seminal. Abby, while walking in the street in front of the house, had been hit by a car. She was fine, a fractured leg. Judy being a nurse took the crisis in stride. I didn't. Not at all.
To be honest, I was devastated. Getting the phone call from Judy with the bad news, racing to the emergency, scared at the thought 'what if she had been killed?', and seeing Abby, a small form on the bed, auburn hair sprayed over the pillow, dark eyes soft from painkillers and her leg in a cast made me feel so guilty. I saw the impact my preoccupation with work had had on Abby. She clung to Judy, barely acknowledging my presence. I loved Abby and it hurt to see how unimportant I was to her. It seemed I was just Dad, the guy who paid bills, set unnecessary rules, and importantly, not Mom.
That night, once Abby was comfortably settled in bed, I had a serious discussion with Judy.
"I don't think Abby likes me, Judy."
"Of course she loves you, Steve."
"Judy, that's not what I said. I said I don't think Abby likes me."
"Oh. I see. That's different," Judy agreed. "You're probably right."
"But, why? I haven't done anything," I protested.
"Steve," she said with that tone of voice she uses when I do something stupid. "That's exactly why."
"Huh?" My usual astuteness deserted me, and clearly any intelligence I might have had, as I added, "What do you mean?"
With the patience only a mother can have, Judy explained the facts of our life to me.
"Steve, you need to understand some things. You've spent almost one hundred percent of your time building a business and providing for our family. Quite honestly, I'm surprised we managed to have Abby!" She said it with a smile. "Sex is the only thing that seems to get your full attention."
"That's not really fair," I protested.
"Honey, were you at Abby's athletic meet?"
"Which one?" I asked.
"Any of them. Or have you helped her with her homework?" With another smile she softened the blow as she listed my many, it seems, transgressions. "The problem is, even when we're together, you're miles away, Honey. You've missed out on her growing up. Of course she isn't as close to you as she is to me."
That night and through the next few days I dwelled on what Judy had said. Not surprisingly, I guess I sort of ignored everyone as I pondered, proving Judy right, again! However, I came to a decision which I explained to Judy that Friday night.
"It's simple," I began. "I can fix this."
"Steve, nothing's broken."
"I mean my relationship with Abby, or to be more accurate, my lack of one. You've said you want to go back into nursing. I want you to go. You know the sale of the company's closing soon so, instead of me starting another business, I'll be a stay-at-home dad."
"You wouldn't last a week!" she said with a laugh.
"I damn well would!" The indignity! If I could deal with prima donnas at work, one daughter would be no problem at all.
Judy looked at her husband. Damn he was cute when he was indignant. It could be because those soft, warm brown eyes were incapable of showing anything but kindness. He was a puppy, and what made it so attractive was he didn't know it. But up against Abby? She laughed at his naïveté and apparent indignation.
"Steve, you have no concept. You'll drown. Abby will get away with murder and you'll never know. Why don't you just spend more time with us? It would be easier on everyone."
I knew myself very well. Either I did something or I didn't. Either I was going to focus on Abby fully or I'd inevitably slip back into old habits, and I was determined.
"No, Judy. I've made up my mind. This is how it will be." There, I laid down the law, just like every male head of a household should. We have the right, don't we?
I didn't like the smirk Judy gave me. A little of my confidence slipped.
For the next couple of months, I hardly made it home at nights. There was so much to resolve before turning over the company to new owners. So once again, I had no clue as to what was going on in my family. It might have made things easier all round if I had.
"Mom, you've got to be kidding!" Abby was angry. Why her? How come she'd have to sacrifice just because Dad decided to stay home? It wasn't fair.
"It's only for a while, Honey. You know how much I want to go back to nursing. I didn't expect to get an offer so fast. I planned on easing your dad's transition; sort of gently ease him into real life."
"But Mom. . ."
"Abby. How do you think we'll survive if you don't? Imagine it; leaving your dad to cook or clean. Jeez, he probably doesn't even know where the broom closet is."
Abby giggled, chiming in, "And shopping! Can you imagine Dad in a grocery store?"
"Think about the laundry, Abby. How would you like to see your whites turned pink?"
Abby laughed. "Okay, okay, Mom. But he has to do the work!"
So here I was, luxuriating on my first day of freedom, wiggling my toes under the sheet, arms under my head, looking out the window excited to see a bird for the first time. Not. Laying in bed was boring, having nothing ahead of me was nauseating. Planning on how many minutes it would take to shower didn't quite cut it.
"What?" I yelled quite loudly. Sounded like Abby was downstairs.
"School Dad, remember?"
Oh shit. Right. Take Abby to school. One of the things on Judy's list, well her small paperback book, no, more like a tome, 'Survival Guide, How To Live With a Daughter.'
"Be right there Abby."
By the time I finished my shower, seventeen minutes in case you're interested, shaved, dressed and grabbed a cup of coffee, Abby was royally pissed at me. She refused to talk in the car and slammed the door without saying good bye, or thank you. The fact she was half an hour late might have had something to do with it, though.
Day one was off to a booming start. I decided to knuckle down, actually read the tome Judy had left for me. I'd make lists for the day, plan, schedule my time, get organized, treat it like work. . .
I never knew there were so many channels on TV. It was endless, especially when you look at the on-demand offerings. Who knew the Komodo Dragon was threatened as a species? And then, learning that there were cup cake wars and the competition was cut-throat was intriguing. It rather surprised me when the alarm went off. As a master of planning, I had set it to remind me to pick Abby up from school; I wasn't going to risk her displeasure again. It kind of defeated the whole purpose of me being home.
"So, how was school?" I gave Abby by best smile, hoping she had a short memory, Alzheimer's, or suffered a concussion in gym class.
"Fine. What's for dinner?"
Oops. I think that was on the list. Oops, it was, just below clean the kitchen. Oh oh, that sort of slipped through, too.
"Daaad. Did you even shop for dinner?" Abby couldn't help grinning. Dad was such a dope, and totally clueless, just like Mom had said.
"Um, well. . ." In my serious voice I tried to cover. "I thought, since this is my first day, take out or delivery might be in order."
He forgot, she just knew it. "Let's go to the grocery store on the way home. We'll find something."
While I hunted through the frozen food section, impressed, admiring the surprising selection and all the fascinating choices, Abby grabbed the cart and left. It sounded like she snorted.
With three Hungry Man meals clasped in my hands, I went in search of my daughter, feeling quite pleased with myself, Roasted Carved Turkey with stuffing, mmmm, quite appetizing. Ah, there she was.
Somehow, despite her giggling at my selection and telling me to put them back, I felt sort of good. Abby had such a bright smile and the amusement glinting in her eyes made me feel I was seeing another side to her.
She thought that proud look on her dad's face was quite cute. He seemed so self-satisfied. It was hard to be angry at him. Swanson? Really!
"Can you cook a steak, Dad?"
"But of course. Every man knows how to grill. It's instinctual you know. In fact, since the dawn of time. . ."
"Dad. How about potatoes?"
"Well now, let me see. I could slice them, I guess, and throw them on the grill. Perhaps a sprinkling of salt or. . ." Her giggle interrupted me. As I watched her, it struck me I may have found a way to get closer to my daughter. Sure I was clueless on some things, but she seemed to respond when she felt she was the one in charge, had more knowledge than her dad. Perhaps.
"Baked Dad. Honestly, if it wasn't for Mom you'd starve."
Without really realizing it, she started having fun. Her dad was funny, making her laugh when he couldn't find foil for the potatoes. She was stern with him when he had to clean the kitchen, something he had forgotten to do, but smiled when he didn't know where everything went in the dishwasher, taking pleasure at directing him, sort of being in charge.
"Are you going to marinade the steaks?"
"Huh?" Marinade steaks? You unwrap them and throw them on the BBQ. Oops. Need to start the BBQ.
"He's totally clueless, Mom."
Judy was in her daughter's room, asking how day one went. She laughed at Steve's bumbling first attempts at being a stay-at-home dad. But she also noted the shine in Abby's eyes as she retold events at the grocery store. Hmm. Maybe it would work. Maybe Steve being at home really would bring him closer to Abby.
"Give him a chance, Abby. Just keep him out of trouble, okay? I know it won't be easy but he has to get better, don't you think?" Besides, she thought, the potatoes at dinner were almost cooked, just edible. Showed he has potential.
As Abby drifted to sleep, she thought back on the day, realizing her dad might be much more fun than she'd ever considered. Maybe having him home wouldn't be so bad. And he was cute, too. Like a puppy with those eyes; it was hard to be angry at him.
"I think Abby quite enjoyed being with you, after she got over her anger at being late for school."
I looked at Judy, next to me in bed. Abby definitely got her eyes and nose from Judy; dark eyes and eyebrows with natural auburn hair, quite unusual, but very pretty. I felt rather lucky all in all; a loving wife who occasionally surprised me with her randiness and adventurousness, her full mature figure, large breasts, sexy hips, lovely bottom. In fact, I felt a need stir.
As we lay back, breathing rather heavily, it had been a complex move, one leg up, the other curled, right angles, complex but very satisfying, Judy continued as if I hadn't stunned her senseless with my sexual prowess.
"Are you really that clueless, Steve?"
"Abby was telling me about today. It sounded pretty bad. Did you really pick Hungry Man for dinner?"
"Sure. Why? Roasted carved turkey with stuffing, what's not to like?"
Judy sighed. Oh well. Abby was happy.
She was laughing at me, her dad, big laughs from the gut, snorts and all. I wasn't impressed. It wasn't my fault.
"Dad, Dad," she gasped. It was just so funny. How had he managed to spray tomato sauce all over himself, the counter, the walls, and that look of surprise in his eyes! Just hilarious. "What did you do?"
I wasn't quite sure. The recipe had said to blend the roasted tomatoes, but the top blowing off the blender was quite a shock. Perhaps hitting the high button was a mistake.
"I'm not sure. I was following the instructions."
"Jeez Dad. You're hopeless. Here, let me help."
"Steve, very nice." Judy leaned back from the dinner table. It actually was quite delicious, but the pasta needed an excessive amount of salt. She suspected he had forgotten to add salt to the boiling water.
"You should have seen him, Mom. He was covered in tomato sauce. And his surprise! It was hilarious!"
"It was not." I felt quite indignant. It was a simple error, not strictly my fault. If the instructions had been more specific. . . maybe I should become a recipe editor?
With the ladies laughing and generally having fun at my expense, I cleared the table, put stuff in the dishwasher now I knew what went where. But inside, as we sat watching TV, I felt no small amount of pleasure at Abby's glee. I felt the beginning of a relationship growing, one that had been missing, and was surprised to discover a very attractive personality being revealed.
"Dad, you have to separate them."
She was standing in the doorway of our laundry room, leaning against the jamb, arms crossed over her blue t-shirt.
"I did, Abby. Socks there," I pointed to various piles on the floor, "shirts there, pants there, unmentionables there, sheets and blankets there and. . ."
"No dad." She giggled yet again. Jeez. "Colors dad. Sort by colors."
"Oh. Alright. Relax, I'll get there. Let's see, one brown sweater, four blue shirts, one pair of pink socks. . ." Her laughing interrupted my careful sorting.
"Daaad! Really! Put all the white things in one pile, all the colours in another."
This was indeed confusing. Laundry had been off limits to me. Judy had assigned me vacuuming instead, after I accidentally shrank a beloved cashmere sweater early in our marriage.
"Are these yours?" I was holding a pair of tiny lacy panties, so lacy the front panel was almost see through. "Aren't they a bit risqué?"
Abby felt her cheeks flush. Reaching and grabbing her panties from Dad's hand, she started sorting underwear before he could embarrass her further. Mom had bought them on their 'girls day out.' They had both giggled at some of the ridiculous underwear in the store, especially the ones with feathers.
"Mom, do guys really like this stuff?" she had asked in amazement.
"Abby, lingerie is one of the biggest turn-on's for guys."
"It's all to do with them seeing a secret part of you, sort of an illicit glimpse. Their imagination is so fanciful they fill in what they can't see. Here, how about these?" She held up a tiny pair of white lacy panties. "You'd like these."
"Mom! I couldn't!" Abby was flabbergasted at her mom's selection.
"Abby, let me tell you a secret." Her voice dropped to a whisper. "I'm sure you've discovered how to pleasure yourself. . ."
Abby blushed bright red.
"But let me tell you, there's nothing like wearing sexy underwear all day to make it even better." When Judy saw Abby blushing furiously, she realized a chat might be in order. Taking charge, she bought Abby the panties and a lovely silky French cut pair for herself before leading Abby by the hand to a café.
"Abby, you do masturbate, don't you?"
"Um. Uh-huh." Jeez, mom was trying to embarrass her, and it was working, too.
"So fine. Don't be so embarrassed. It's entirely normal. We all do."
"You mean you. . ."
"Abby, everyone does, me, your father, everyone. And don't listen to those moralists that tell you it's bad. It's not. It's a perfectly normal part of sexuality. As long as it's a private affair, you should enjoy it. And by the way, sexy lingerie can really make it better, it makes you feel sexier. As long as you're not showing anyone, it's your business, no one else's."
As Abby furtively grabbed and sorted panties, she remembered the first time she had worn that particular pair. She remembered standing in front of the mirror, how nice they felt as she slipped them up her legs, the thrill, a tingle of arousal as the silky gusset touched her pussy, so much sexier than cotton. She had admired herself in the mirror, letting her hand feel how they hugged her bottom, the delicate lace at the front showing her pussy, even the small new pubic hairs that had appeared. All day they had been on her mind, feeling them slip and rub against her pussy as she walked. She got damp as she walked down the hall at school, thinking about no one knowing she had her sexy lingerie on under her school uniform, and masturbated furiously at home, fingers pushing and rubbing her panties over her cleft, caressing her clit. It had been one of the best orgasms she had experienced. Mom had been right.
"Did your mother buy those for you?" They seemed far to adult for my twelve year old.
"Daaad. Stop. You're embarrassing me."
"Did you buy Abby those panties?" I was laying next to Judy, pleasantly relaxing in the afterglow of a particularly enjoyable orgasm, Judy, bent over the bed, me behind as she held her buttocks apart, thrusting back at me aggressively.
"Of course I did." She wondered what brought that to mind. Steve's mind did seem to wander at times, surprising her at how he switched topics. She was quite relaxed, all her aching muscles from standing through her shift now pleasantly warm. Damn, sex with Steve was so good.
"Why? Isn't she too young for them?" I was having a tough time with the idea. My daughter was far too young and innocent. Those panties just seemed so discordant with my image of her.
Judy smiled. Well, well. Steve, a prude. "I never thought I'd see the day, Steve, when you'd be so prudish."
"Me? Prudish? I am most certainly not. I only wondered why?" Not strictly true. I had felt a bit prudish, it's my daughter after all.
"It was 'girls day out.' We were shopping. I bought them for her when I bought those silky French cut undies, remember? The ones you came all over the first time I wore them?"
Oh yes. I remember, Judy modelling with a slow strip tease, Judy making me feel them, touch them, Judy bent over, sensuously rubbing her silk-clad butt crack up and down my erection, 'don't they feel sexy, Steve, slipping like that on your big erection'.
"Ahem. . . But why? Why does she even need them?"
"Because she'd feel sexy wearing them."
"Abby? Feel sexy?" Way too soon for that. I was sure.
"Jeez. Have you forgotten Steve? When did you start masturbating?"
"Um. . . Thirteen, I think."
"So. . ."
So what? What's that got to do with. . . Oh. You mean. . .?"
Judy chuckled. There goes the little girl image fathers cling to for so long, far too long. "Of course. She's twelve. Of course she's discovered masturbation. I did at that age too."
"But Abby?" I was having some difficulty with the concept. Abby? Really?
It was a gold star day. I was strutting, a rooster, puffed up and proud. I had cleaned a toilet today, on my own with no guidance from Abby, discovered the amazing Food Network on the Internet, and Abby was holding my hand, voluntarily I might add, as we strolled through the mall. She had even hugged me! Me! Imagine.
Abby thought it was fun watching her dad when she picked up a training bra and showed it to him. Her breasts were developing, somewhat sensitive and achy, but now a pleasing plum-sized.
"Uh. . . Um. . . Shouldn't you. . . Um. . . Your mom. . ." What did I know about training bras? And why was Abby grinning so much, and why was she waving it around like that? Surely her mother should be the one.
Abby felt a flush of love watching her dad's discomfort, watching as he tried so hard to appear unruffled. Teasing him was just so much fun. She grabbed his hand after she hugged him around the waist in a fit of emotion. She really liked him, she really liked her dad.
"Can we eat at the food court, Dad?"
It was a gold star day, I was feeling fine. "Let's go to a restaurant, Abby. You choose."
Golden Pad Thai, even though it had 'gold' in the name and it was a gold star day, wasn't my preferred choice. Green curry? What's with that? Just the thought of it was unpleasant.
"Try this Dad."
I reluctantly opened my mouth. Green curry. Hmm. Not too bad.
Abby giggled. "Dad, wipe your chin."
"Do you think the 'green' in green curry comes from the grass they grow to feed their cows? For that matter does 'pad' refer to the rice paddies? What are 'paddies' exactly? I always thought they were Irish people."
I grinned when Abby almost choked on her food.
"Dad. Honestly, stop it. I can't take you anywhere!"
"No really Abby, don't you think it would be boring having to eat rice all the time. Imagine being Thai, rice for breakfast, rice for lunch, rice for dinner. Can you imagine asking for pasta? Why you'd be expelled from the village, shunned, a legend would develop, the legend of the outcast who dared. . ."
My heart swelled as I heard Abby's deep laughter, her snorts, her eyes tearing. God I loved her.
Abby gently rubbed herself, finger slipping through her labia. On her back, bed covers shoved aside, and hand under her white lacy panties, one hand on her teacup-sized breasts, ones she was so proud of. She leisurely masturbated letting her arousal build, feeling the moisture flow, touching her vagina and pulling moisture up to her clit, tweaking her hard, sensitive nipple, a familiar and much enjoyed act. It started with Zac Efron kissing her, but as her orgasm crested, as her hips thrashed, her finger thrummed, it was Daddy that intruded, Daddy hugging her, Daddy dancing close, Daddy, Daddy, oh Daddy.
Panting, awed at the intensity of her orgasm, she thought about Dad and felt a warm flush inside, just like she felt when she mooned over Zac.
Why? How come? But he's such a puppy, a loveable puppy.
All too soon, Zac was left behind, she didn't need him. She had someone near her, around all the time, always willing to help her, pay attention to her, drop what he was doing for her. Someone who loved her, unconditionally loved her. Someone she liked being with, who was funny, sweet and handsome.
"Mom, what do you do when you want to show a guy you like them?"
Judy studied Abby. She had a rosy flush to her cheeks, shining eyes. My goodness, Abby has a crush. How sweet. About time. She smiled.
"Well, who is this guy? Come on, you can tell me."
"Um. . . I can't."
Why was she blushing so hard? It must be serious.
"Sure you can. I'm you mom, remember? Your partner in crime. We've never had secrets, have we?"
"Mom, I just can't. Forget it. Never mind." How could she tell Mom she had a crush on Dad? She regretted even opening the subject.
Judy studied her daughter, sitting beside her on Abby's bed. Abby was flowering, pubescence doing its wonderful work. Abby's face had lost all traces of baby fat and gained a sculpted beauty, magnetic wide eyes, dark like her own, long dark lashes that enhanced her appeal, an aquiline nose slightly raised at the tip added fun and lightness to her visage. She had her father's mouth, just a nicer, more feminine version, one that was quick to smile, and brighten a room when it did.
Judy knew the changes that were altering her body, small B-cup breasts, a seductive flare of her narrow hips and an alluring curve of slim thighs. Abby was becoming a beauty. A maturing beauty, she reminded herself. Her periods had started.
As she studied Abby, she thought about how well things had worked out. Steve had, in his own inimitable way, inveigled himself into Abby's heart. She saw it every day, Abby laughing and giggling at her father's antics, at the way Abby sat close to her dad on the couch, at the way she brightened when he came in the room, or touched his arm.
Oh my God! Abby has a crush on Steve!
Judy was lost in thought, had been ever since hugging Abby last night. Abby with a crush on Steve?
Her first reaction was typical, astonishment tinged with disapproval. But the more she thought about it, the more she realized it was quite normal. Hadn't she herself had a small crush on her own dad?
But she didn't remember asking her mother how to show Dad her feelings. Maybe that was a testament to the closeness of Abby's and her relationship.
As she dwelled on it, she began to realize it wasn't the same for Abby as it had been for her. Abby was showing signs, subtle signs, signs that it might turn into more than a crush. It was the way she looked at Steve, riveted, her eyes bright. It was the way she slapped his arm when he did or said something stupid. It was the way she brightened when he entered the room, and the way she snuggled close. It was the look. It was a look that foretold of love not a crush, the actions suddenly familiar, actions she remembered from when she and Steve were courting.
For days she wrestled with the problem. Abby was heading for a huge disappointment; it would crush her when she was rejected by Steve. She couldn't blame Abby. Steve was so loveable. Abby was reacting to the same attraction that had captured her own heart. And that realization brought on more.
She knew how kind hearted Steve was. Abby's distress at being rejected would tear at Steve; he'd be just as crushed, especially after having put so much effort into developing a relationship with his daughter.
She'd have to have a chat with Abby. She couldn't let her daughter be hurt like that, or Steve for that matter.
"It's your dad, isn't it?" She asked it gently as they sat on Abby's bed.
Steve was off shopping, they had both laughed when he announced with great pride that he was going to make Beef Stroganoff, especially when he had asked, quite intrigued, what exactly were shallots? Snails?
Judy had taken Abby's hand after Steve left. "Come, I want to chat," she'd said, leading Abby to her room.
She watched a blush suffuse Abby's pretty face.
"Mom. I'm sorry."
"Hush, Abby. Relax. Let's talk. I'm not going to punish you." Judy wrapped her arms around Abby. "So, tell me."
"Mom. I couldn't help it." Abby felt mortified. Mom knew. Oh God. The embarrassment.
"So explain it Abby, tell me how it happened." She thought she might find a delicate way to dissuade Abby if she knew what had caused it.
"That's just it mom. I don't think I can. You see, I never knew Dad was like that. When he decided to stay home I was sort of pissed. Remember? But he's such a goof. He couldn't do anything right. And I'd try to get angry with him but he'd look like a lost puppy. I don't know how to explain it.
"And then I found out he was funny, and he was fun to be around. I started comparing him to my friends and boys at school without even thinking about it and he was so much better.
"When he'd hug me I started feeling hot inside. It just seemed to grow without me knowing it. And then I started wanting to be home with Dad, rather than be with my friends. I had more fun with him and it made me feel so much better.
"Dad always paid attention to me, and his smile. Mom, his smile takes my breath away, and he's kind. And when I looked at him, I started wanting to take care of him, you know, cuddle and hold him, just like a puppy.
"But then I started dreaming of him, even when I was. . . you know. Before I knew it my heart was pounding when I'd see him. See that's how I knew Dad was more than just a dad to me."
Too late, Judy thought. Abby was in love.
"Okay, Abby. I need time to think about what you've told me. Thank you for telling me, Honey. But you know you can get hurt from these feelings."
Judy's heart broke at the sight of tears in Abby's eyes.
"I know mom. I'm sorry."
Judy sat in the den, mug of tea in her hands, thinking. Abby was in her room, Steve still out shopping.
Her problem was her daughter had fallen in love with Steve for the exact same reasons she had. She remembered those same feelings, still had them. Steve was incredibly loveable. It had nothing to do with being handsome, although he was that. It was everything to do with his personality, it was magnetic in some ways, but the pull was at the heart.
She thought about her being in the same situation, how would she feel? It brought the prickle of tears to her eyes as she imagined the heartache. No. She couldn't let her daughter suffer that. But what to do? Separation? Send Abby to a boarding school? That would hurt Abby and Steve, and inevitably herself.
Gradually her mind explored alternatives. What if she let it develop? Surprisingly, she felt no jealousy at the thought. Why? Because it was family? She probed her feelings, digging, but she really couldn't find jealousy inside.
She thought about sharing Steve with Marjory, Steve's old secretary. A fierce jealousy surged through her, I'd kill the bitch, she thought involuntarily. But when she calmed down and thought of Abby in the same situation, there was no jealousy. It was very strange.
She was undecided. It was a conundrum.
"Dad, are you really sure you should put vinegar in it?"
"Well, that's what the instructions say. Jeez. That stinks!" Good God, it reeked. "You read it Abby. What does it say? No, never mind. Too late now."
"I don't think I'll have any tonight Dad. Not really hungry." Jeez it stunk, Abby thought, her nose wrinkling.
I was rapidly realizing I had over-reached. If aroma was anything to go by, I must have missed a step, or an ingredient, or read it wrong. Maybe it was white wine, not white wine vinegar. Oh well, too late now.
"Dad, should I order a pizza?"
Abby was grinning, making fun of me! "Git! Git outta my kitchen you wench!"
"Mom, Mom. You've got to go to the kitchen and smell it!"
Judy watched Abby giggling, her eyes shining, bright, amusement and more. "Okay."
"Jesus Steven. What have you done?" Judy agreed with her daughter, it stunk. But what made her giggle herself was Steve, apron, pots and pans on every surface, all of them seemingly used, a bag of flour open on the counter, flour on his apron, his hands, his arms, and his face, even dusting his sandy hair.
I did not think it was that amusing; Judy and Abby splitting their sides. I didn't think they appreciated just how complex this dish was, nor how brilliantly I was executing it, adding my own flair to it.
"Git! Both of you ungrateful harlots!"
God he was just so loveable, Judy thought. That did it. Watching him, her heart thumping in her chest, intense love felt as a pressure inside, she decided she was okay with the concept of Abby pursuing Steve. But before she allowed it, she knew she'd have to make sure Steve wouldn't react badly. She had a plan for that, too.
"Gawd, Dad. I'm amazed!"
And so was I, even if I say so myself. Brilliant, delicious, and, as it turned out, white wine vinegar was right.
"I'm with Abby, Honey. Delicious. I'm amazed, too."
See, even Judy agreed. Wait, what exactly did they mean by 'amazed'?
Judy could feel Steve was nearing his climax. As she pulled on his buttocks pulling him hard against her clitoris, his wonderfully filling erection thrusting deep into her, she waited, holding her climax at bay.
When she knew he was close, right on the edge, she let her orgasm crash over her, whispering in his ear "Oh God, Daddy."
She felt him expand inside her, he roared, not moaned, his penis jammed into her as deep as she had ever felt, flooding her with his warm thick cum. He pulled back and slammed forward, ejaculating wildly in to her. And as her climax peaked, as she clamped down on her husband's pulsing, spurting erection, she smiled. Steve had never cum this hard before.
"What did you say, Judy?" I was panting, exhausted, sated. It was one of the hardest orgasms I had had. But I thought I'd heard Judy whisper something quite out of character just as my climax hit me.
"Nothing, Steve. I didn't say a thing." She smiled in the dark. Now for a plan.
"I can?" Abby's eyes were wide, her words hushed with wonder.
Judy smiled. "Yup. But it won't be easy and you'd better prepare yourself. You might fail."
"I won't. Nun-uh."
"Okay. So. . ."
Judy went on talking at some length, outlining what Abby should do, how she should behave, how to approach her Dad.
"What do you mean just a light brush, Mom?"
"Abby, like lingerie, less can be more exciting. Here let me show you. Stand up."
Abby stood, jeans, bare feet, white t-shirt. Judy stood behind. Slowly Judy traced the palms of her hands over the very tips of Abby's braless teacup breasts.
Abby felt her nipples harden as her mom brushed them ever so lightly. Wow, they tightened and tingled. Involuntarily she pushed her chest forward.
Judy suddenly had two hands full of pubescent breasts. They were braless, firm, upright with hard nipples. She felt a stir of heat through her, a memory of being that young, of feeling her own breasts when they were small and of the sensations. Slowly, she cupped them and caressed them as if they were her own, lost in beautiful memories, arousal awakening.
Abby moaned, eyes closed, this felt so much better than when she touched herself. Lost in the feelings, it didn't even cross her mind it was Mom holding her. All she could feel were sharp jolts from her breasts down to her pussy. She leaned back, melting a bit.
Judy felt her hard, hard nipples rub against Abby's back, sighed and pushed them forward, delicious pressure sparking arousal, her clit swelling in response. She was lost in the moment, remembering being young, the thrill of her first boyfriend as he hesitantly caressed her, so arousing, so sexy. Her hand slipped down Abby's front to her jeans as she remembered Lindy at college, the surge of heat when Lindy cupped her pussy, the first girl to ever touch her there, the surprise of how nice it felt. Her hand cupped Abby.
Abby felt flushed, hot. Signals were bombarding her mind. The pressure on her pussy made her damp, horny. When the hand started stroking her she moaned, her hips moving, rubbing and stimulating.
Judy inhaled sharply and stepped back. Wow. Where did that come from?
"Um. So just a light touch can be enough. You see?" Her voice was a little husky.
"Uh-huh." Abby was breathing heavily.
They both sat on the bed, occupied with thoughts.
"Am I a lesbian, Mom?"
Abby's question shocked Judy out of her own thoughts. "What makes you think that?"
"It felt so good when you touched me. Better than when I touch myself."
"Do you still like boys?"
"So why did it feel so good?"
Judy hugged Abby. "There's something about girls touching girls, Honey. It's quite different than guys. Girls know what makes them feel good, so they know what makes other girls feel good."
"You've done it with girls?" There was wonder and surprise in Abby's voice.
"Sure. I experimented in college. It was fun. Felt really good. Of course, I haven't tried since meeting your dad. He's all I've ever needed."
"So what does it feel like? How is it different?"
Judy looked down at her daughter. Abby's eyes were open wide, inquisitive, excited, and still slightly aroused. It never entered Judy's mind that sexual touching would be inappropriate. Judy was adventurous, she regarded sexuality as something to be celebrated, not hidden in shame.
"Would you like to find out?"
She pulled Abby up. Standing, they touched, Judy guiding, 'touch me here', 'gently', 'let's take our tops off', and small smiles of encouragement.
As they kissed lightly, Abby felt a surge of arousal; this wasn't a fleeting touch of the lips like it had been with Greg. Her mom's lips were warm, soft, and she felt a spike of arousal as her mom's tongue lightly touched her closed lips.
Abby felt her pussy throb and moisten when her mom's hands gently cupped her aching breasts, inhaling sharply when thumbs teased her sore nipples. She could feel her panties sticking to her damp pussy as her mom pulled them down. She felt herself lay on her bed, Mom's weight settle next to her, a kiss, Mom looking as tongues touched for the first time.
But it was soft, gentle fingers, brushing through her new pubic bush, caressing her clitoris in a familiar but new way that had her panting, dizzy, her pelvis straining up as her climax crashed through her, intense, more intense than she'd ever felt.
"And so you see, it was modern man that introduced flapjacks in order save themselves from the purgatory of female cooking. Grits were the limit, the horizon of women's culinary expertise and, I might add, the yoke they used so effectively to subdue. . ."
Abby was snorting in laughter as I pontificated on the development of civilization and modern man, making pancakes at the stove. Judy seemed to be laughing as well.
My heart lurched. Abby hugging me from behind, "I love you Dad." Oh my. I had to turn and hug her close. She pressed her small body against me as I kissed the crown of her head, her breasts surprisingly firm and larger than I had thought poking my stomach. I wondered what the smile on Judy's lips was for, it seemed different.
"Um. Well. Thank you kind lady." I extracted myself from Abby's hug, slightly embarrassed I had felt her breasts against me so distinctly. Quite inappropriate.
Never-the-less, I was a very happy father. Abby loved me. She hadn't explicitly expressed that sentiment before. Pride filled my chest. I think I might have actually puffed it out, too. Maybe strutted a bit.
"So. Today. I renounce housework. It's Saturday. The sun shines bright. It's time for manly things."
"Like what, Steve?" Judy asked with a grin.
"I shall wash the car. I shall warm the couch. I shall support Nascar. I shall bar-b-que, no, I shall smoke. Pulled pork, that's it, pulled pork. Did you know pulled pork is a religion? Southerners place it above God, country, and family according to. . ."
Their laughter followed me as I stepped out. I smiled. My family. Jeez I loved them.
"It's not working Mom." The front door had just closed.
"Sure it is honey."
"But he didn't notice I had no bra on."
"Oh yes he did, Abby." Judy smiled. She had seen that tiny moment when Steve had frozen, just a micro-second. That was the exact moment he thought about Abby's new breasts. It was rather thrilling watching it. She hadn't expected to get quite this excited.
"So what do I do next, Mom?" Abby was feeling a little impatient. It had been three weeks, three agonizing weeks, and it felt like there was no progress. "Can't I do something more obvious?"
"No, don't. Not yet. You need to keep going. Keep touching him, be subtle like we discussed, let your breasts just brush against him. He's almost reaching the right point. When he does, I'll put a crack in his wall."
"What're you going to do?" Abby was fascinated. She never knew there was so much involved in seduction. Seduction! Imagine! She was seducing Daddy. She felt warmth in her crotch as she thought about it, a sudden desire to masturbate.
"I'll tell you after."
Judy was resting her cheek on Steve's chest, her full breasts pressed against his side, aroused as she gently fondled his hard erection, her thumb rubbing the tip.
"She's got a crush on you, you know."
There. She felt it. A slight pulse in his erection.
"She does? Why? How?" Abby? A crush on me? Her father? That didn't sound right. Nice, but not right.
"Oh yes she does. It's your fault Steve."
"Mine?" What in tarnation was Judy talking about. And would she kindly stop fondling my erection? It was distracting.
"Yup. You shouldn't have seduced her."
"Seduced her? Jesus Judy, stop fondling me!" How the hell had I seduced my daughter?
"Mmm. Completely your fault. I'm horny. C'mere."
I was pretty sure Judy was distracting me. It was her mouth slipping over my erection that suggested it. Oh well. Nice distraction.
Judy felt quite pleased. A crack had been made, one Abby could chip away at. And to top it all off, Steve's erection felt so big tonight, firm and warm in her mouth. Her pussy clenched with a pulse of arousal as she felt Steve's erection throb and leak against her tongue. Damn she liked his precum. It signalled his excitement so well, thrilling her every time.
"Mmm." He sure knew how to excite her, his tongue, silky soft, probing between her labia. There! Yes! There!
She felt pleasure explode through her body, liquid gush out, her thighs clamping around Steve's head as hot thick semen gushed into her mouth, swallowing quickly to make room for the next delicious spurt, her hips jerking as her husband's erection expanded and gushed again and again.
"What exactly did you mean, I seduced her?" I was still high from an intense orgasm, but couldn't get Judy's comment out of my mind. When I heard no response, I checked. Wow, my sexual prowess was at the peak of its powers. Judy was asleep, or it appeared so.
"Should I shave it?" Mom's fingers were playing with her small pubic bush. She was still sweating from her orgasm.
"Nope. It announces your fertility. Men find it hypnotic. It's a sign of budding maturity. They get excited, it implies virginity and innocence. It can really drive them nuts." Judy was pleasantly relaxed in the afterglow of a self induced orgasm. She had imagined Steve with Abby and the instant arousal it had caused had surprised her. It was powerful enough that she fingered herself to an orgasm at the same time she caressed Abby's pussy, inducing an orgasm in her.
"But if he never sees it, what's the use?"
"Ah. That's the key. He has to see."
"How? I can't just pull my panties down in front of him."
"No, no. You have to make it accidental. He'll dwell on it. It'll stay in his mind."
Judy giggled to herself. Steve, sitting in front of the TV, completely oblivious of what was showing. Abby was staring at him intently with a sneaky grin on her face.
Why couldn't I get it out of my mind? And why, damn it, did I have to be walking down the hall right at that moment? And for that matter, why didn't Judy buy bigger towels? Surely they were a dime a dozen.
And exactly when did Abby grow pubic hair? Didn't she realize the towel wrapped about her was too short? And, damn it to hell, why was my body betraying me? I couldn't get the sight out of my mind; Abby's plump pubis, dusted with a small dark brown pubic bush, her tight cleft curving between that damn gap at the top of sexy legs. And Jesus, the bottom of her buttocks seductively bouncing as she ran, giggling, to her room. Shit Steven! What's the matter with you? It's your daughter!
On all fours, Steve thrusting wildly into her, stretching her, growling as he ejaculated enough for it to spurt back out of her, Judy smiled, climaxing. Progress.
Abby was laughing at me again, big guffaws from her belly, snorting, tears streaming down her face. It wasn't my fault. No, really. This time it wasn't my fault.
I blamed it on static. How else did that red sock get in there?
She couldn't stop laughing. Dad looked so funny, standing, arm outstretched, wet pinkish shirt hanging from his fingers. His look of amazement was just too much. He's such a goof! And those puppy dog eyes, they made her heart ache, her chest constrain, God I love him.
I was not impressed. I preferred the original white to this pinkish color. And Abby was taking unusual delight in this catastrophe. She was shaking in laughter, and why wasn't she wearing a bra? Her breasts were shaking. For that matter, why was she wearing jeans two sizes to small? They hugged far too tightly in the crotch. She should take them off. And just where did that thought come from?
Judy hugged her daughter to her, once again sitting on her bed. Tears fell silently, big drops slowly rolling down Abby's cheeks.
"Why does it hurt so much, Mom? It's not supposed to."
Judy felt for her. She understood how much love could hurt, how your heart ached. She knew how your body hurt, the agony of desire.
Turning Abby's face up, she smiled reassuringly. "Don't give up now, Honey. You're close, really close." Then she kissed her daughter, gently on the lips, her hand caressing Abby's small breast, feeling her nipple stiffen. She could relieve her body, at least.
As they lay back on the bed, gently kissing each other, Judy's hand moved over Abby's jeans, fondling her slowly, letting Abby's arousal build, helping her daughter into a soft climax, hearing her sigh with relief.
When Judy made frisky advances, I rebuffed her. I had things to say, decisions had been made.
"I'm going back to work, Judy." I had decided.
"It's for the best. It's the right thing to do."
"And why is that, Steve?"
"Well, you see, it was the shower and that towel, and then the laundry, that pink shirt, and, well, Abby, and, her laughing, her. . . And then there was the pool. Abby, you know. And the blue bathing suit, and, well, she's grown, you know?
"Well, that's a problem. So. Yes. I think it's for the best. Better all round."
I have to admit I wasn't quite satisfied with my explanation. It didn't quite articulate my discomfort with Abby's sudden maturity, or at least her sudden pubescence. It really didn't quite explain the uncomfortable arousal I had felt when she was laughing at me. Nor the stab of arousal as I saw a pubescent goddess rise from the pool right in front of my eyes.
Judy studied Steve. He was uncomfortable, but the hint of color in his cheeks suggested his discomfort was with his reaction to Abby, not her behaviour. His wall was crumbling. How exciting.
"Steve. Stay here. I'll be right back."
I wondered why Judy needed to put on a bathrobe, or for that matter, where she was going. We had an en suite bathroom, why was she leaving the room?
My breath caught in my throat.
Judy, Abby's hand in hers. Abby, white satin nightgown, mid thigh, spaghetti straps, draping, small pubescent breasts outlined, stiff nipples. Abby, pretty Abby, shy smile, love burning in her eyes.
I looked at Judy sharply. She smiled. "Abby has something to say, Steve."
I looked at Abby, sweet Abby.
"Don't go to work Daddy, please?"
"He still doesn't get it, Mom," she whispered.
I heard her. Get what?
"Steve, you're such a goof. A clueless puppy, loveable, but clueless."
They both sat on the bed on either side of me. I was confused, I admit. What was going on? Why were they both smiling at me like that?
I gasped when Abby took my hand and brought it to her breast, smiling shyly at me, so pretty. I couldn't help my reaction, my body responding before conscious thought could intervene.
I looked at Judy. She was smiling, she seemed happy. Why? Didn't she see I was holding her daughter's breast in my hand? But it felt good, small, teacup sized, the firmness only bestowed to youth, and a surprisingly stiff nipple. Oh God, it felt good. It shouldn't. But it did.
"He still doesn't get it, Mom."
"Just wait. He'll get there. Watch his eyes." Judy smiled at me.
Abby giggled, her small breast jiggling in my hand. Get where?
I got there. It dawned on me.
I groaned as I remembered; Abby brushing her breasts against my arm in the mall, Abby with no bra hugging me, Abby whispering "I love you," Abby snuggled too tightly next to me on the couch, loose t-shirt, Abby giggling in a towel that wasn't too short after all, Abby kissing me good night on my lips, and with shock I remembered, Judy whispering in my ear "Oh God, Daddy," and the intensity of my orgasm!
"See, he got there."
Abby giggled. "Will he speak, do you think?"
"Let him breath. He's pretty clueless most of the time so it takes him a while to process."
"I am not and it doesn't!" But I was and it did. "You mean. . . I mean you. . . and you. . .? It was planned?"
I was rewarded for my articulateness with two beautiful smiles, with two beautiful ladies, one my wife, one my daughter, moving close to my sides, each wrapped in an arm, two beautiful faces beaming at me, eyes glistening in excitement. For some reason I felt like the richest man in the world.
I leaned over and kissed Judy. With a surge of excitement, I kissed my daughter, kissed her properly, small delicate lips against mine, the tip of her small tongue touching mine. Lust and arousal unfurled in me, surprising me. Abby, my pretty daughter, sexy.
It shocked me when they both stood.
"Watch Steve," Judy said softly. "This is just for you."
I watched. I watched Judy walk around the bed, stand behind Abby. I watched Judy's hands slip under the spaghetti straps holding white satin up. I watched with bated breath, Abby smiling at me, Judy smiling, two straps falling.
Abby naked! Abby in the full blush of puberty, small teacup breasts stood proud and firm, beautifully shaped with stiff nipples, dark brown areolae; Abby with a slim waist, seductive flare of hips, erotic swell of a bottom and thighs. Abby's pubic bush, small and thin, dark brown pubic hairs, her tightly closed cleft with her clitoral hood peeking at me; Abby's full, plump labia rounded and alluring between the gap in her legs. I was erect, hard, throbbing at the sight of virginal innocence, of my daughter, of this nymph of nature before me.
Judy! Judy cupping Abby's breasts! Judy tweaking her nipples! I couldn't breathe as I watched Abby's eyes soften in arousal, as she murmured, as Judy caressed her. I was hard and pulsing at the eroticism.
Breath rushed from me as Judy caressed my daughter, kissed her shoulder, looking at me, a small smile on her lips. My heart was pounding. Judy kissed Abby's neck. Me! I wanted it to be me!
"Please," I whispered, "enough." Abby and Judy kissing gently, lips to lips. Never. I'd never imagined how sensual it looked, how erotic.
Abby came into my arms, a small soft, sexy girl slipping under the sheets, pushing me back, rising, looking at me, bending and kissing me. Her small breasts tickled my chest. I was on fire; a fire that intensified when someone stroked my erection.
My senses were being overwhelmed, I was becoming confused. Abby rising and straddling me. Who was holding my erection? Oh God. Abby settling, the touch of warm damp labia touching the tip of my erection, sliding along her cleft, slippery. How? Her hands were on my chest.
I groaned when I felt her clitoris on me, groaned again as her labia spread to embrace my crown, my erection being guided, slipping through the slick warmth, my erection sliding through my daughter's pussy. My vision was narrowing, Abby's face and chest, Abby's eyes hot with arousal. Oh Jesus. My erection lodged against her, my erection pressed against my little girl's pussy. I reached for her narrow waist, holding my daughter gently. Don't baby, don't, it'll hurt you. I moaned as I felt her lower herself, the exquisite sensation of her opening dilating, oozing over my crown. My heart thumped with her sharp cry. Suddenly I was surrounded by the tightest feeling I had ever experienced. Jesus, I'd just taken my little girl's virginity!
Abby's eyes glistened with unshed tears. I heard roaring in my ears as Abby raised and lowered herself, a tight satin sheath enveloping me. Reaching up, I pulled her down to my chest, hugging her to me, hugging my daughter to me as I felt my penis nudge against her cervix, so deep, so exquisitely tight. I was aching, pulsing, swelling. God, Abby felt so unbelievably good.
Abby felt full, beautifully full, Daddy's erection hot and pulsing inside, nestling against the deepest part, a part she'd never felt before. She could feel him throbbing and swelling deep inside her pussy, stretching her so perfectly, his erection nudging the ache. She was trembling in excitement. Daddy. Daddy and me. Finally.
As she pulled her bottom up, she inhaled sharply, her clitoris scraping against him sending shivers through her. She felt Daddy push her bottom down, feeling dizzy from his penis sliding deep within her, filling her, stretching her, pushing against her end. Daddy. She pulled up again, then down, deliciously filled, Daddy's big warm hands on her bottom feeling so good.
She moved faster, an urge building, a storm brewing. Her movements became harder, bottom rising and thrusting down. Faster, harder, need screaming inside. Me and Daddy. Daddy, Daddy, Daddy.
Her climax crashed through her, taking her breath away when she felt Daddy swell and spurt inside her, hot, deep, Daddy cumming, oh God, Daddy cumming in me! Her bottom rose and crashed down again as another spurt flooded her. Her climax overwhelmed her, bottom bouncing, heart racing, Daddy's hot cum filling her, filling her, beautiful, thank you Daddy, thank you Daddy, so good.
I lay with my cheek resting on her soft, firm stomach, on my side, looking at my fingers as I played with the new growth of pubic hairs on the top of her mound; silky little hairs, a small bush celebrating pubescence at its most attractive stage. Slipping my finger up over her mountain of pleasure, well, my mountain of pleasure, I traced her cleft. Her clitoral hood was still enlarged, peeking out from her labia, and further down, wet, my semen still oozing out, a slow stream leaking down between her buttocks.
Judy and Abby cuddled, I heard them whispering, plotting, and planning. I smiled. I quite liked being unemployed.
It's a shame the child erotica genre does not have a major prize for its best writers--for example, a version of the Man Booker Prize awarded in England. Let's call ours the Loliwood Adult-Child Prize in Fiction. I want to nominate you for it.
Your writing makes me think of Alan Hollinghurst (who won the Booker Prize for 'The Line of Beauty'...and was nominated for 'The Stranger's Child'). Your stories have rich character development, complex story structure, unique insights into human motivations, spot-on dialogue, nuanced writing--and are sexy as all get out.
How do you do it? Don't tell us: just do it again.
It's unbelievable to see how talented you are. Thank you for blessing Loliwood with your work.
And I second Marsha for the prize LOL
The reviewing period for this story has ended.