Note: The author expresses his appreciation to user sgrspc69er for her editing improvements to this story.
I lay in bed trying to turn my mind off so I could get to sleep, but not being successful. If I could have written life's script, this is not how it would go.
Here I was, a 51 year old man, finally having sold my self-made machine shop and its two patents for enough money to retire at an early age ... and no wife to share my retirement with. Melissa, my college sweetheart and wife of fifteen years, had died of cancer when our daughters were 13 and 7 and I had raised them with the help of my mother, my two sisters, and some helpful neighbors.
Oh, I got lucky every once in a while, just long enough to empty my blue balls into some nice woman and repress my primal urges for another spell. But even though some of those matches repeated themselves from time to time with the same person, I never felt comfortable enough with any of the women to feel like replacing my wife. Somehow it just seemed like I was betraying her memory every time I bedded someone else. The result was that I was miserable whether I found someone to have sex with or not. So most of the time I went to bed with Mother Thumb and her four daughters, just getting past the most pressing need, and pushed back into the depths of my mind my interest in suckling a woman's soft breast or pressing myself into the smooth curves of a well-rounded ass or smelling the uniquely sweet scent of a woman's hair. There were so many things associated with being intimate with a woman ... and I just couldn't bring myself to pursue another woman in search of those, at least not on a lasting basis like I would have written into my script for Melissa and me.
Now I lay her worried that our oldest daughter Faith was experiencing a similar kind of meltdown that I had. She had married during her last year of college, just as Melissa and I had, and had a seemingly loving marriage but then her husband Bradley had gotten into drugs and became abusive, refusing to accept any kind of treatment and Faith had finally packed her bags and moved back home with me yesterday. She had no job, didn't know what she could do, and didn't have any idea where to start.
Nor did I know how to help her, really. I knew I would be supportive and told her that she could have her old bedroom back for as long as she needed it. After all she was my flesh and blood. However with Hope, our youngest daughter, finishing her senior year at the university and contemplating marketing jobs in either Chicago or New York, I prayed that Faith would find something close to home. I wanted her to be independent but I also wanted the comfort of one or both of my children within easy visiting distance in my later years. It might even be nice to be a grandparent some day.
All these thoughts and others were churning through my mind and I found myself listing to the grandfather clock in the hall bonging twelve times and then later it emitted the half-hour sound and finally I heard the one o'clock chime. I was thinking about getting up and going down for a cup of coffee or something when I heard a rustle of cloth in the dark. My ears perked up and I listened to see if it came again. Instead I was startled when the bed shook slightly and Faith's whispered voice asked "Daddy? Are you awake?"
"Yes," I replied. "I haven't been able to get to sleep."
"Me neither," she said softly. I felt the bed jiggle as she pulled the sheet up and slid under it. "I need a hug, daddy."
Before she could slide closer to me, I rolled to face her so the sheet would fall between us. I wasn't really anxious for her to learn that I was sleeping in the nude. However she came closer and her arms closed around my neck, pulling us close together.
I wrapped my arms around my little girl ... and immediately thought that she was my little girl no longer. She was almost a mirror image of her mother, a big beautiful woman in her own right. Both mother and daughter carried a "few" extra pounds, both had developed large pendulous breasts, and both had broad round bottoms. I suddenly had to choke back a surge of emotion as Faith made me think of Melissa in so many ways.
I started to release her but she hung on and, if I could just keep my sexual urges repressed, I would admit that some of the world's cares seemed so much smaller when someone, anyone, cared enough to hug me. A hug gives the feeling that someone else cares about you, that they know what you are going though, that they are there to support you. Slowly, ever so slowly, tension fades from one's body and mind.
Except that, in my case, I was unsuccessful in repressing my sexual urges and, to my utter horror, I developed a raging hard-on that insistently pushed its way up between us and made itself known to my daughter. Even trying unobtrusively to move my bottom backward to keep it from being so obvious did not work. Instead Faith giggled and asked "Are you glad to see me, daddy?" as she moved toward me to keep our bodies tightly together.
"Sugar, are you sure you want to do this? Have you thought about what it means?"
