SIX
Mom's Gone
I startle awake with you licking my balls - which wouldn't be surprising, this is part of your morning routine, except that this time you'd already nearly swallowed my dick. You're pressing your throat down on my cockhead. How could I have missed...
"Ahhhhhh. this feels good." I wriggle a little into our mattress to get more comfortable for your coming ministrations.
And my coming FROM your ministrations.
"No one has ever used their mouth so good. Damn girl."
You bob up off of me to say, "No one?" and back down smooth as butter.
"No one. Not even your mother. And she was the best."
You grip my cock with your teeth. Not biting, just holding firmly. You mash me up against the roof of your mouth with your tongue, your upper teeth bending my dick.
"Hey, M-"
You're up off me again and with a tossed-over-the-shoulder, "Sorry," you're out the door at a clip.
I notice the sun is up. I do not remember how I got from our couch to our bed. But here I lie, half a day later.
I follow you out of our bedroom just in time to see you open the bathroom door saying, "I gotta piss."
I nod and walk towards you; You leave the door open. Expecting something?
I walk on down the stairs to the kitchen.
Wow. You've been up for a while. And I know why you decided to wake me up.
The island counter is laid out for breakfast. Two plates beside each other, waffles, scoop of butter melting, warm syrup cruet, large orange juices, and coffee - coffee really being the only thing I was expecting.
Most unusual.
You sure are up to something.
"You sure are up to something," I say as you come downstairs.
You spread your arms and with question etched deep into your beautiful face you shrug.
The kitchen lights glint off your new jewelry, drawing attention to your nipples. OK, true, my attention is ALWAYS drawn to you nipples, but usually my eyes move down, and up and dart around taking in your dozens of points of beauty, but these rainbow-flashers hung through and just under your brown-pink buds, well...
When I finally tear my fascinated gaze away and look up, you haven't moved, you're still in that I-can't-believe-you-don't-know stance.
"Wha-a-at?"
You break out into a broad smile, leap across the kitchen to plant yourself, arms around my neck, tits carefully held away from my chest, legs wrapped around my waist thrusting your naked cunt against my cock. You grind and roll against me, lifting your pelvis to rub your pussy along my dick, plowing along your slit.
You've never been like this before.
I love it... but, again, what?
With all that wriggling and pressing and rolling and lifting you finally reach your goal - your cunthole, having totally slimed my dick, is poised over my cockhead.
You drop, spearing yourself onto my cock. Deep in one sheathing instant.
I get weak in the knees and turn, setting your mysterious naked ass on the counter. I start to pump into you, you put your hands on my hips and hold me still.
"No, Dad, this is me."
I cock my head, watching your eyes.
You playfully punch my shoulder.
"You forgot. You forgot, didn't you?"
"Obviously."
"Our anniversary."
"Anniversary?"
You put on a fake pouty-face, "Oh, you did forget."
I nod. Nod rather forcefully, and my pelvis mirrors my movement, curling into you.
"It's three years ago today that we..."
"'That we...?'"
"You know."
"The first time we... the day I... you..."
Now I know what you mean, but I'm so amused watching you struggle. It explains all the weirdness of today. And reminds me of the weirdness that day.
>>>>>><<<<<<
"Dad?"
"Yeah?"
"She's not coming back is she?"
"No. You know that."
"But, we were... she was..."
"Yes. Me too."
You stood shaking in the door to my office. You looked near collapse. You looked the way I felt.
I stood and walked across the carpet and took your hand.
We stood there, silent, looking at each other.
Seemed like for days.
My knees started to go weak and I stepped backwards a few steps, not releasing your hand. I turned and walked back to my desk. You came with me - we were still holding hands.
I leaned back to sit against the desk. I looked at the floor. Overwhelmed.
You looked at me, seeking answers I didn't have.
Rather, answers I couldn't reveal.
I lifted up my eyes to yours and the tear rolling down my cheek triggered yours.
I drew you to me, hugged you, held you tight, you wrapped your arms around me and we sobbed, deep, both lost.
You drove us to the house and I went up to my room, into my bathroom and washed my face - rinsed more appropriately - splashing handsful of water from the fully open running faucet.
I slumped to the floor and sat, leaning against the vanity.
"Dad?"
So very tentative. And tender. I heard you from the bathroom and called to you.
Called is not the right word, it was more a croaking sob, but...
You came in and stood in the door, one hand on the jamb. You looked down to me and I saw your face crumble under your loss, our loss, and you burst into tears and flung yourself down to hug me tight, pinning my arms to my sides. It was all I could do to press my arms against your sides, my hands held, useless, behind you.
Eventually, we stood from the hardness of the tile floor and staggered, shuffled to my bed, supporting each other through the effort. I sat, staring back at the bathroom, seeing nothing. You sat beside me and we each put an arm around the other.
We had stopped crying.
On the outside.
I flopped back onto my bed, arms flung wide.
You turned your head to look at me, your face wet and puffy from crying. I always thought you were beautiful, from the day you were born... but now, now...
You leaned down and stroked my chest like you would pet a dog to calm him down. It worked. After a fashion.
You lay down beside me, your head on my outstretched arm and turned to me, lying on your side.
I followed you with my eyes as you lay yourself down and, calmed by your continued stroking and exhausted by the events of the day, I drifted into a deep sleep.
I woke, or seemed to, with my arm wrapped around you and you lying against my side, half on me.
I became aware of your warmth, your breath slowly pulsing your chest, your soft breasts pressed against my ribs.
You hair spread over you like a blanket.
I started to stroke your hair absently.
And drifted back to the soft darkness of sleep.
I woke in my bed. Alone