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When my daughter learned what was troubling me, she suggested going to the restaurant with me. That was thoughtful of her. I tried to be cheerful. Unfortunately, as soon as we got to the restaurant I was flooded with memories, once pleasant, now painful. I killed the pain with glass after glass of wine. My daughter tried to cheer me up. Now she was lying next to me, sleeping peacefully, looking as beautiful as a Playboy centerfold model, and unfortunately, just exactly as naked.
I fearfully woke her. She opened her eyes, smiled at me, and wrapped her arms around me pressing her breasts against my chest, kissed me on the lips, and said, “Good morning, Dad.”
“Did we...do It last night?” I asked.
She laughed. “No Dad, we did not do It last night. I admit I wanted to. I told you that I had saved my virginity for the perfect moment, and this seemed like the perfect moment. I’m glad you refused. It would have been the wrong thing to do. You had three times as much to drink as I did, but you still kept your moral bearing.”
“If my moral bearing was so high, why are we lying in bed together, completely naked?”
“Good question. I wanted to make love to you. You refused. I held your erect penis and asked, ‘What are we going to do with this?’
“You said, ‘You can’t put it in your vagina, your mouth, or your rectum’.
“I asked, ‘What about a hand job?’
“You didn’t refuse, so that’s what I gave you.”
“Wait a minute! Why was I naked in the first place?”
“That’s a long story.”
“We’ve got time.” Fortunately, my wedding anniversary this year was on a Friday. I really was not in a very good condition to go to work.
“You had far too much to drink in the restaurant to drive home. I am too young to order alcohol in a restaurant, but I am old enough to drive, and I just turned old enough for a man to...”
“Yes, I know. So you drove us home I guess.”
“Yes, and when we got home I wanted to have some wine myself, so I opened a bottle and shared it with you. We both talked about Mom. Then I opened and shared another bottle of wine with you. I drank four glasses, which was the most I've ever had. You...”
“I can imagine.”
“Anyway, when you got up to go to bed you took several steps and fell down. I helped you get into your bed room. That was hard, because I sure can’t carry you. I pulled back the sheets, and helped you lie down. Then I removed your shoes and socks. With them off, I decided you would sleep more comfortably if I removed everything but your underpants. When that’s all you had on I noticed that you had turned them into a tent.
“I had never looked at you sexually before,” my daughter continued, “but I had never had four glasses of wine either. I took my clothes off, removed your underpants, and was fascinated by your penis. I had not seen one since I last saw yours when I was nine years old. I had never seen an erect one at all. While I was admiring your male organ you sobered up enough for us to have the conversation I already told you about. Can’t you remember any of this?”
“Some of it’s coming back to me.”
“Anyway, after you climaxed, I got some toilet paper to wipe you off. Then I got under the sheets with you. You turned me around so that my back was against your chest, and rubbed my clitoris until I had my own orgasm. That’s the way I masturbate, but it felt a lot better when you did it. You told me, ‘This is what your mother and I did together before and after we got married. Our wedding night twenty years ago was the first time we made love with anyone. I have been faithful to her ever since’. Mom told me the same thing, Dad. I think that’s wonderful.”
“I guess I’m not so immoral after all.”
“You’re not immoral at all, Dad. Other fathers would have planned an event like last night. They would have done what you refused to do.”
“I sure didn’t plan it. I almost got heart failure waking up next to you.”
“Now, don’t get a heart attack on me, Dad. I don’t think I can lose two parents in a few months like that.”
“Don’t worry, Sweetheart. I want to stay alive.”
“If you want to stay alive, Dad, I wish you wouldn’t stop at bars on the way home from work every night. When Mom died I took over responsibility for getting dinner ready. Sometimes you come home more than an hour late. You’ve obviously been drinking. Now Mom’s death has been painful for both of us, but think how I’ll feel if a police officer knocks on the door some night and tells me that you got killed in an accident because you had too much to drink, or that you are in the hospital after causing an accident that killed some other people.
“Dad, I need to take better care of you. If you want to drink after work, buy a bottle or two of wine, and bring it home. Wouldn’t you rather drink with me than the patrons of some bar? I don’t want you to get into an accident, and I don’t want you to get picked up by some woman either. I’m sure Mom wouldn’t want that.”
“Sweetheart, I would much rather talk to you. My drinking buddies are getting tired of hearing about Mom anyway. That’s all I ever want to talk about. If you don’t mind I can tell you about the places we went to when we were dating. I can take you to some of them.”
“That would be wonderful, Dad. I can never get tired of talking about Mom, and hearing about her. One more thing, Dad: from now on I want to share your bed. You’ve established the restrictions of our relationship, and I agree with them. What happened last night between us was beautiful. I want to do it again.”
“Keep your bed room for appearances sake,” I told her. “If we have friends over, make it look lived in. If we change it to a guest room, people will wonder.”
“That sounds fine with me, Dad. Now you just lie here, and I’ll get some aspirin and an ice bag for your hangover. Relax, Dad. I’m going to start taking care of you right now.”
As my daughter walked out of what was to become our bed room, I admired the way her hair flowed down her softly rounded shoulders, the turn of her back, her small waist, her slender, athletic thighs, her perfectly formed calves, and of course, her beautiful, bare bottom. She looked like her mother did when she was that age. Actually, my wife still looked that good when...
Now don’t let me get started on that. Anyway, as I watched, I began to get an erection. I hoped my daughter would still be naked when she came back. She was. My daughter enjoyed my appreciation as I admired her beautiful face, her firm, round breasts, her flat belly, her curved hips, and her garden of love, which had never been trespassed upon.
She put the ice bag on the dresser, and gave me the aspirin tablets and glass of water. “I’m going to have fun babying you,” she said, kissing me. “Now take your medicine, like a good boy.”
I did. She put the glass on the dresser, and pushed my head back into the pillow, kissing me again and again, and pressing her breasts against my chest. “We’re not going to do It,” I reminded her.
“I know, Daddy, I know,” she giggled. Then she began to rub my penis. I closed my eyes and imagined doing a threesome with her and my wife, pushing my penis deep into her vagina as my wife kissed our cheeks, and whispered encouragement to both of us. We never would have done that in real life, of course. It was only a delightful fantasy, made all the more so by pretending that my wife was still alive. Mutual masturbation was certainly better than the solitary kind. This time I remembered every detail.
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