Dream Daughter

(This is my first submission, first story written outside of school. None of this has happened outside of my head. I plan on a conclusion story & maybe a prequel involving the father & mother.)

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"Remember that wet dream you had a couple nights ago, daddy?"

My first thought wasn't that that was a strange thing for my daughter to be saying to me at dinner, 18 or not. I felt guilty. I don't usually have erotic dreams so intense that I orgasm, but I had slept alone for so long. She apparently found me out while checking to see if the sheets needed washing.

"It wasn't just a dream, dad. It was me."

I couldn't remember it, only finding the evidence when I awoke. I started to panic, not knowing what had happened.

"All I did was touch it, I've always wanted to. When I looked in your room on the way back from peeing, it was light enough to see your...penis sticking out of your p.j.s. It didn't take much and you were...cumming. I feel horrible about it. I just had to confess, even though you were asleep. Were you dreaming about mom to get hard like that?"

I was finally able to find my voice by slipping into "father" mode when she asked the question. I'd had a lot of embarrassing questions to answer over the years as the single father of a daughter. "I think all men wake up with erections like that and don't know why. But if it was anyone, it would be your mother."

Roxanne knew as much, since I never went out. "It's been too long, dad. I've been telling you to move on for years, but now that I'm an adult maybe you'll listen to me."

"But I've never been with or dated anyone but her. I was a loser in high school who happened to get lucky with one of his teachers after graduation. I thought I loved her, but I was only 18. And we never had a chance to see where it would've gone."

"Because I killed her."

"No, it's not your fault. I've been telling you that for years. Maybe now that you're an adult, you'll listen to me. She knew the risks, but decided to keep going with the pregnancy. She gave you her life, don't regret being alive."

"But, I don't really Feel alive. I went to school. I graduated. I didn't make any friends. I certainly didn't have a boyfriend"

"Like father, like daughter." Tears were coming into my eyes, as they already were in hers.

We cried and held each other like we should've done years ago. We had just been kind of going through the motions as a family. What we needed was to be friends. Best friends who would push each other to not live with a ghost, but to take chances and Live. We promised to make that new beginning with each other. What had happened two nights earlier had sort of been forgotten.

Alone in bed, however, I focused on what she'd said, "All I did was touch it. I've always wanted to." In all these years mourning her mother, I had never thought of my daughter that way. For one thing, they didn't really look alike, outside of their striking brown eyes. Her mom was under 5 feet tall and very curvy, with long straight hair. Roxy had always wanted her brown curly hair cut somewhat short, and although 5 foot 2, she was very slim. Aside from that, those thoughts were unnatural. But obviously my daughter had different thoughts.

Not being able to sleep anyway, I got up and headed toward the living room. Our DVR was almost full with bad shows that might put me to sleep. Passing Roxy's room, I looked in. It was very dark. But as I opened her door, a line of light crept into the room from left to right, exposing the foot of the bed, her pale legs...and her pubic hair. The nightgown had ridden up to her stomach, I thought. But then I recognized the way her right hand rested on her hip. It looked like when I fall asleep while masturbating.

I needed to think, but then again I'd done too much of that in the past 18 years. I approached her bed, not thinking about my growing erection. Not thinking that this was my daughter. I'd decided I was going to return the favor. I didn't know for sure that she hadn't finished before falling asleep, but it seemed destined.

Roxy was close enough to the hallway side of the bed that I could kneel on the floor and use my left hand. She was very hairy, like her mother. I said they didn't look alike except for their eyes, but here was another similarity. As I started gently exploring her forest with my left, I slowly maneuvered my right hand up the nightgown to feel her breasts. Maybe her nipples were as sensitive as my only other lover's had been.

Sure enough, having already found my daughter's clitoris, what pushed her over the edge to start involuntarily quivering in her sleep was my thumb and first finger on her left nipple. I started to alternate. She'd had her left hand down the nightgown, but it had mostly come back up in sleep. The only other breasts I had ever touched were D-cups. Roxy's were only B's, but so firm and young. I'd never been with someone my own age, and in many ways I was still 18.

The flood of moisture in my left hand was very satisfying, to me in a different way than to her. When my daughter's orgasmic vibrations slowed almost all the way down, I reclaimed my hands carefully, not wanting to be caught. She had made noises during, and moved her head around some, but I was surprised she hadn't woken up. Of course, I hadn't when she did the same thing for me two nights earlier.

After slipping back into my room, sleep came very easily. The satisfaction of a job well done.

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I was giddy the whole next day at work and couldn't wait two more days. When we finally sat down to eat dinner, I said to my beloved daughter, "Remember that wet dream you had last night, Roxy?"

To be continued...