Daddy's Secret Diary

Author's note: This tale has been published by me before, under a different pseudonym. It is a slightly revised and, I hope, improved version of a father's secret love for his daughter.

It was inspired by a chance meeting online, a few years ago, with a delightful girl called Alika. Where are you now sweet Alika?

(Feedback is always welcome.)

*****

My diary is 'Secret' because here I relate, in total candour, random events of my life as a widowed father, and details of my very special relationship with you, Alika, my only daughter.

'Secret' means that no-one else must know, and no-one else will read the contents of this extremely intimate journal. Society would never understand. But you, my darling Alika will surely stumble upon it one day after I'm gone.

You're the only one I want to know what has been in my heart and in my mind and in my body since your mother, my wife Carol, was wrenched away from us in that awful accident, which even now is almost unbearable to recall. So you will know just how much you have meant to me since then, and how I have come to love you as I loved her.

Perhaps a little more. You are the only one who will understand.

01 October 2006

Dearest Alika, I start to write this journal just fifteen years after her death. She was the only woman I ever loved, until our own close relationship took on a new dimension almost two years ago, when you were seventeen. Of course I loved you from the day of your birth, as a baby, as a child, as an adolescent. But now I love you as a woman.

Our love is certain. I say "I love you Babygirl". You say "I love you too, Daddy". But there are things that we don't say to each other – even in the most intimate of moments we have enjoyed so many times now, there are feelings we don't express, fears about this taboo love we share but don't dare enunciate and can't share with those around us. If we can't talk about it, then it's important to me that you know things from my side. Even if you will only begin properly to understand much later, when I am no longer part of your life.

You were so young when your mother left us. It was gut-wrenching to hear you cry for her ceaselessly in the beginning. You needed her as much as I did, perhaps more; a baby girl needs her mother. I made every effort to distract you from her disappearance. Eventually, you stopped asking where she was, and later, as you became old enough to grasp the concept of death, you finally, finally were able to comprehend.

We were both destined to live without her elegant presence, her odours, her touch, her pure beauty, her wisdom, her smile, her gentleness. Her love.

I was destined to survive without having her warm, soft body next to mine at night, her complicity, her understanding, her sexuality, her great passion.

I tried to be a good father to you. I made sure you were looked after when I was working, because I had to work to pay the bills, Babygirl – you understood didn't you? And I was always there to share quality time with you when I was not working. It was unthinkable that I should consider the idea of another woman sharing our lives – though more than once, in your child-like way, you asked me to find you another mummy. And our vacations together were very special; that's when we were closest.

And now, you are an adult. And I live in Heaven and Hell at the same time. For no-one in the 'normal' world outside could ever begin to understand my intense, forbidden, deep love for you, nor any of what has happened in recent times. You are so much like your mother, Alika.

For me, you have become your mother, my wife. Your long slender body, your green eyes, your soft blond hair, your pale skin and flawless complexion. Your sparkling personality, your outrageous vivacity and all those qualities she had, are now evident in you.

When I look at you, I see her. When I touch you I touch her. When I make love with you, I am with her and inside her and you both at the same time. And I love you as much as I loved her – and in the same ways. You have finally and totally fused with the greatest love of my life, and become the same object of my enormous passion.

I know I have to avoid suffocating you. I have to give you your breathing space, never interfere when you leave the house, though my solitude then is almost unbearable. I know you see young men, and surely have sex with them. But I stay detached as far as I can from the half-imagined terror of your young vibrant body being invaded by another, to try not to let that terrible green-eyed monster of jealousy rise up to engulf me. What I want can never be achieved, I know that.

My Paradise is also my Eternal Fire. I live with it every day.

03 October 2006

You were out all night again, Alika. I missed you so much. Fathers fret, you know, be their kids young or grown up. I worried and worried incessantly, but restrained my urge to start telephoning all over to find out where you were.

Then I heard you arrive home, silently climb the stairs and enter your bedroom around seven. I heard your toilet flush, imagined you sitting there, legs akimbo, peeing, wiping your sweet pussy with quilted paper, then standing naked before the bathroom mirror to brush your long hair, your pretty tummy pressed against the wash basin, your bum cheeks firm and round and loveable. Just like I used to watch you and admire you before, before things changed.

Maybe you just fell into bed, hair deranged, makeup still on, worn out but beautiful. I could sleep now that you were safely home

How I wanted you to come to me, slide willingly, naked into my warm bed and press your cool, smooth body against me like you have done before, feel your full, firm breasts and pointy nipples against my back, your foot, thigh and pussy rubbing suggestively over my leg. And telling me that you loved me again and again. In desperate anticipation, my penis was hard as ever, lying there, waiting and ready for you if you wanted it. I'm sure you guessed that I would be there, waiting on tenterhooks, in case you felt the need to join me.

It would have been enough to just have you there with me, and during the night, to caress you, to calm my anxiety, to know that you were alright and that you wanted to be with me. But I know the rules. We agreed them.

I slept a little, but not enough. Before leaving for business this morning, I dared to look into your room, without disturbing you. I stayed by the entrance to your forbidden zone, not braving to approach your bed, nor touch you. Only your head was visible above the sheet, and you slept like an angel, like you were ten years old again, breathing shallowly. Looking at your face, I loved you in my mind and heart and body, I loved you to bursting.

07 October 2006

We had dinner together today, for the first time in a week. It was so good to have you back with me, even for a short time. You were sloppily dressed for staying in, no makeup. Jeans and an old sweater of mine. You like to wear my sweaters, and that is a joy to me; afterwards, when you take it off I can hold it, I can smell your perfume, your soap, your skin odour, and it's as though I'm inside you once again, part of your body, though I have a dreaded fear that a fully satisfying coupling between us may not happen again. You will decide.

When you're away from me I can handle and smell your clothing too, your delicate underwear. It's my way of being with you even if you're absent.

And yes, dear Alika, I masturbate into your slips, your bras, your night T-shirt. Whatever you choose to give me each day, always knowing, understanding and accepting my needs, without questioning. You know not to give me a slip with someone else's semen stains. Lonely masturbation is not what I want for the best, but I can imagine you're here with me. Covering my face with your slip, I smell your odours, urine, sex juices.

Erection in hand, I extract all the odorous pleasure that I can before wrapping the chosen gift of clothing around my swollen penis and rubbing it, rigid and bursting with desire, tingling with lust and passion, hopeless with love for you my Babygirl.

I always ejaculate powerfully, my semen dedicated to you and I call your name out loud. I wait and I wait for the next time you will be ready for me. I ask nothing else but your love, and that you tell me sometimes that you love me too. I am patient because I worship you.

During dinner, I smiled and watched you as we talked, about everything in the world - other than those desperately worrying matters I wanted to broach but daren't. You chatted animatedly and energetically about your work, your art, your friends. I listened, hoping you would ask me about my day too. I just listened and adored you. My evening lit up, just having you across the table.

My penis was at full attention, invisible under the table, as my eyes took in your wonderful unfettered breasts which jutted against the thin wool of my sweater, the pointy young-woman's nipples outlined clearly to my gaze. I looked into your pale makeup-less face, those lively green eyes: I watched your fine lips move as you spoke, and your smile made my heart melt as always.

I was happy again, despite knowing that this pleasure was but for a short evening, and that tomorrow you'd be missing again for a time – you'd go back into your other teenage/adult world, from which I was excluded. I know the rules.

After dinner, with a light, but lingering kiss to my cheek and a hand on my shoulder, you were gone, to your bedroom. I waited and I wanted. Your room is forbidden territory by mutual agreement. If you were to come to me, if anything intimate was to happen between us, then it would be on my ground, in my bedroom, or in the lounge, anywhere but in your inner sanctum, your secret garden as you call it.

I went up to my own lonely bedroom. I heard your music. What you play tells me what kind of mood you are in. I listened, and I knew you wouldn't be slipping into my bed tonight. Your soft body was out of bounds this time.

You made a phone call, which went on for a long time; I tried not to listen to what you were saying. I heard the click-click of your computer keyboard. I heard a faint buzzing. I cried silently: "Come to me, Babygirl, I can make you feel better than a vibrating plastic tube". I didn't hear your orgasm; you must have celebrated it silently. Later, I heard light-footed movement, the sound of you brushing your teeth, water running, you were peeing, toilet flushing. Then nothing.

Later, I masturbated alone in my room as usual, looking at your photo, the nude one we took in the Paris hotel room last year, and clutching one of your slips to my turgid member. The pressure in my testicles had been building all evening, and as ever, it didn't take me long to get to the highest level of excitement, to fill your slip with the seminal juices I really wanted to feel squirting into your lovely body.

The intense orgasm was a welcome release. All evening I had wanted this climax to be shared with you my darling Alika, but once again I am condemned to wait. Until you are ready to receive my worship of your body.

10 October 2006

I came home late last evening, after my gym session, crept in by the unlocked kitchen door. I didn't know whether I'd see you; you had not told me of your plans for the evening.

I don't think you heard me, and when I entered the lounge, I saw you. You had recently showered; you were half lying, half sitting on the couch, on a large bath sheet, a cushion behind your towel-dried hair, eyes closed, as though sleeping. I couldn't be sure, you were breathing shallowly.

The television blinked blankly, as though a DVD had come to the end. You were wearing your very flimsy white bedroom robe, silky, sexy and almost transparent, the very expensive one I bought you on our lovers' weekend in Paris last year. I knew you were waiting for me, Babygirl.

I could see the outline of your bra-less breasts and the slight folds of your body pressing against the material. Lower, I saw that the robe had fallen open to reveal that you wore no panty. One hand rested on your lower belly, fingers lightly touching your mound of Venus - not rubbing, not moving, just resting there. One of your pale legs was crooked slightly, and to one side, which gave me a view of the short, soft blond hairs at your secret opening. Not shaved, but cropped very close, the way I like, the way I remembered it, the last time I was this close to your naked body.

It had been too long Alika. You looked so desirable, and my penis began to twitch; I detected the rapid flow of blood into my organ, felt the head swelling, that pleasant sensation which precedes the hardening. My heart picked up to a faster beat, and I felt warm.

I took off my jogging top and went around the couch, torso naked, to your feet, to take in the length of your slender body. You looked so much like your mother; my heart leapt with love, with heartache and gut-wrenching desire. I felt it bumping in my chest.

You didn't move at all, you just breathed slowly and soundlessly as I watched your breasts move under your robe. My eyes came back to your mons veneris, slightly covered by your motionless fingers.

I knelt down, to position myself in the crook of your leg, and ran my flat hands lightly along both pale, exposed thighs, feeling smooth, soft and surprisingly cool flesh against my palms. I detected the odour of bath salts. I had to move your hand, to clear access to your sex. It looked very inviting, lips peeking out of the cropped pubic hairs, the softest of labia lips just visible. I eased your leg further open, lowered your foot to the floor; you stirred, but still your eyes stayed closed. My hands ran along the top of both of your thighs again, the pleasant feel of your flesh made my itchy penis lengthen and harden a little more, until it began to push strongly against the front of my slip and jogging pants, the friction against the tip increasing the pleasure and flow of blood.

I floated my hands over your tummy, back down to your sex, ran a thumb over the soft folds of those pussy lips, then my hands back onto your thighs, to stroke along the insides, to your knees and back up to the centre of all pleasures.

I needed to suckle your breasts. Ever so gently, I leaned up over your glorious body and eased your robe off your shoulders, pulling it aside to gain access to those fleshy wonders. Your nude full breasts fell into my hands, my penis twitched violently. I cupped the firm young woman's flesh for a while, appreciating the softness and the weight and the wonder of them.

Then, taking care not to let my naked torso touch you, I bent my head to take a tiny pale nipple into my lips. I nibbled it with my closed lips first, then lightly with my teeth; it swelled in my mouth, became hard and rubbery, and I began to suck on it like a baby, touching it with the tip of my tongue.

I enjoyed the feel and the taste of the nipple in my mouth, breathed in your soap and perfume for a while. My hardness throbbed urgently now, and I had to free it from the confines of my slip, to allow it to expand fully. I pulled down the waist of my jogger and lowered my slip, feeling the cool air on my full erection.

As I switched to your other breast and sucked lightly on its nipple to make it hard, my cock brushed momentarily against your inner thigh, hot against cool, hard against soft, rough against silky, forcing another violent jerking to take place. I held my hardness against your flesh for a moment, feeling the joy rise in my body.

While I suckled, my finger touched again the slippery folds of your pussy, seeking the opening of those lips, but not penetrating, just caressing, lightly. Would I risk awakening you, if I went further?

I looked up; your sweet eyelids were still closed, but did you have a half-smile on your lips? Now, my head descended from your nipple and I began to plant small delicate kisses all the way down to your navel. My tongue dipped into your belly button and then the kisses of adoration continued down along the insides of your thighs, then slowly back up, close enough to your mons to detect that delicious odour emanating from your woman sex. That exciting smell of almost-moistness.

Up onto your stomach, more butterfly kisses, then down again to your upper thighs. As I moved my upper body forward and back, my turgid cock brushed against the silkiness of your thigh and calf, and now I allowed my naked upper arms too, to feel the same softness. I placed my hands on either side of your waist, brushing my palms against your wonderful woman's curves.

My mouth was now approaching the lips of your honey pot, to kiss, to smell, to taste. First a lick with the end of my tongue, then my mouth against those soft adorable lips, an open-mouthed kiss, sensing the delectable odour of your sex floating up into my nostrils. Then my tongue slipping through my own lips, to lick again those other, softer, feminine sex lips, to prise apart the labia folds and tiny pubic hairs and penetrate into your secret orifice...ahhh the joy.

My cock free and cool but raging hot and iron-hard, pressed against your calf again, I moved my lower body slowly back and forth, benefiting from the friction of my hardness against your softness. Pre-cum juices dribbled out of the enlarged hole in the end of my penis, smeared against your flesh, lubricating my leg-fucking action.

Meanwhile my tongue reached further into your sweet pussy, tasting your love juices. I felt the cropped hairs against my lips and the moistness inside your sex began to mix with my saliva, turning moistness into wetness. I drank, I tasted your nectar.

My tongue now deep inside, I closed my mouth entirely over your sex opening and kissed as though I would kiss your mouth, a full French kiss, deep and increasingly forceful. Then I withdrew my tongue and ran it over your clitoris above, pressing, stimulating, first lightly, then harder and more determined, pausing only to push my tongue once again into your cunny and taste anew your juices, now more and more plentiful. Then back to your now swollen clitoris.

I looked up to your face, which was less calm now; your eyes were still closed, but your breathing more agitated, your mouth open. Your lower body began to move, too, rising slowly but certainly up against my mouth, allowing one of my hands to slip underneath, to squeeze and cup your bum cheeks, run a finger along the fold of those cheeks, and touch that other secret orifice, your sweet, unviolated anus.

I felt you would soon be close to orgasm; I know your body language so well, Babygirl. There began that almost imperceptible trembling in your lower body. As I pressed a finger against your tight little ass hole, with my free hand, I held one of your breasts and fingered the nipple which became rigid-hard again. I was at once touching your breast nipple, your secret bum orifice, and my mouth was lavishing adoration on your sweet cunny.

All the while my furious erection was rubbing against your leg, getting wetter and wetter with pre-cum, longing for your caress, but having to settle for the pleasure of the friction against your calf flesh. I felt you return the pressure that I was applying; there began a slow side-to-side movement of your leg, slight but certain, pressing sideways against my burning, throbbing monster. With the same movement, my shoulders touched the inside of your thigh.

Your breathing became louder and quicker, a tiny moan was audible. You became warm, then hot. Your lower body lifted up higher, you gasped, trembled. Your hips moved up and down rapidly, pressing your bum cheeks against my hand underneath with each downward thrust, my finger pressed against the entrance to your anus. Perspiration was beginning to collect in the cleft of your ass. My mouth clung to your pussy, my tongue pressing on your clitoris as I felt you pass the point of no return, and as the quaking became uncontrollable, I plunged my tongue hard and deep inside your vagina again, kissing your whole sex as I would kiss your mouth...a full, deep French kiss, as though seeking another tongue. Full of passion, full of love for you, my Babygirl.