I want to thank everyone who made all the helpful, and encouraging comments on all chapters of my first story "Lesson's from Daddy". I value each comment, regardless of how positive or negative it may be. These bits of feedback make me a better writer and have reminded me of how much I love to write. Not everyone can run a marathon in a day. It takes work, training, and practice. All the comments from the chapters from that story have helped me to grow as a recently published erotic author, and for that, I thank every one of you who has and will comment on my stories and chapters. I read and love every comment.
I hope that "Jenya's Journey" is as enjoyable for everyone to read as it was to write. I want to stress that all of my stories are a work of fiction. Should you find this genre of fiction to not be of your liking, I do not find offence in your wanting and/or needing to navigate to a different section.
This story was Edited by external sources.
Please enjoy following Jenya and her Daddy on their journey.
B
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Something happened to me today, and as hard as I tried to push it aside and accomplish the mountain of chores that lay before me, I was unable to do so. Instead, I am sitting here at my desk, writing this small bit of literature for you all to enjoy.
I suppose before I go too far into my story I should tell you a little about myself. My name is Jenya Bee. It is an odd name, I guess my parents figured it suited me. Perhaps they were right. I am 37 years old and have two wonderful children. A son and a daughter. I have spent the last 19 years of my life with a great man whom I adore as much as the children he gave to me.
Like my name, my story is an odd one. Many would be shocked by my story, and to this day, there are only two people that know the truth behind my relationship with my man; him and myself. This wasn't a situation that we outwardly told the world and there became a time, in a new place that we just pretty much let people think what they wished.
But now I'm getting ahead of myself.
My memory was triggered by the feathered sounds of the violin playing on my iPod. The gentle tempos that the talented woman played for me brought me back in time 19 years. I felt very much like Ebenezer Scrooge watching his life pass by him as the Ghost of Christmas Past took him to see his younger self. I saw myself in my room, that very quiet Saturday morning, listening to some classical music as part of a final project for my senior high school year.
The young curvy girl sat at her desk in front of her computer, Beethoven's 9
th
Symphony filled the air with the twists and turns of its melodic tales when her tall, well-muscled Father came into the room. As I watched the scene play out, I couldn't help but remember how attractive I thought he was. A man of near 40, he took care of himself and was in quite good shape, considering he spent much of the previous 8 years alone. There was a time that I recall thinking that Mom's death would have been the death of him too, but I as I gazed upon his tall strong form standing in the golden beams of sunlight that were pouring from the glass windows, he looked almost angelic. He was very handsome. He never did wear the burden of her death for long, and I was never more glad of that than I was that day. His sandy blonde hair was slightly rustled, not too long, and not too short. His blue-green eyes glimmered at me with adoration.
"What are you doing Princess?" His strong masculine voice easily over powered the stringed instruments cascading from the speakers on my computer.
