Late Bac

Her dad's head appeared round the door, concerned.

"Linda - you ok sweetie?"

Then he saw her. Really saw her. Naked on the landing, her hand still between her legs, frozen.

Jesus fuck NO!

"Linda... what are you...?"

He opened the door properly and came out onto the landing towards her, his face confused and... something else, an expression she hadn't seen before.

She looked at him in horror for a brief moment and then turned and bolted for her room, cheeks burning.

This was just the worst thing ever, ever, ever.

She slammed the door shut behind her and threw herself onto her bed. She buried herself under the blankets. She wanted to die of shame. She and her dad had always had the perfect relationship, she'd seen and heard the way some of her friends bitched about theirs, but she never had.

And now things would never be the same between them. That moment, her stupid moment of... what? Weakness? Recklessness? Horniness? Every time he looked at her from now on that would be what he thought about, no matter how much both of them tried to move on.

Hot tears ran down her cheeks. If only she could go back five minutes, so she could turn the other way at the top of the stairs. What had she been thinking?

There was a tap at the door.

Oh God.

"Linda?"

"Go away! Please Daddy!"

"I want to know you're OK."

How could she answer that? She wasn't ok. She was a stupid selfish slut and she didn't deserve him.

"Linda, I'm coming in, OK?"

She sobbed under the blankets. She heard the door open, heard him come him into the room.

"Hey honey, we can fix whatever it is."

We really can't, she thought. Really, really, can't.

She heard him move further into the room. He was standing close to the bed now, only a few inches away from her.

"You're going to suffocate if you stay down there."

Despite herself, she smiled a little through her tears. Parents always seemed to worry about stuff like that.

"I'm just going to hold the blanket up a bit, to let some air in."

He sounded so calm, like nothing had happened.

She felt a slight coolness as the blankets lifted and some fresh air slipped in. It did help. It had been getting stuffy down there.

"You going to talk to me?"

"I can't Dad... I just can't."

He sighed.

"I'm sorry to hear that Lyn. I always hoped you could talk to me about anything. And anything that makes you cry must be pretty bad."

She didn't say anything.

"Did you have a fight with Art?"

"No," she managed. "Not... exactly."

"Do you want me to go and beat him up?"

She smiled slightly again at that.

"No!"

"You sure? I could, you know. Just to be on the safe side."

She'd known that her Dad hadn't liked Art.

"Dad, he's fine. It's... me."

"OK. That's a shame - but OK."

She heard him settle down into the chair by her window. So he wasn't going away.

She took a deep breath.

"Dad, you should just go back to your room... I didn't want you to see me like that. I'm sorry."

"I've seen you naked before, hun."

"Not like that."

"No," he agreed quietly. "Not like that."

"Do you hate me Daddy?" When she said that she couldn't help it, she started cried again, just when she thought she was getting herself under control.

There was a short silence. It was perhaps the worst silence of her life.

"There is nothing in the world, Lyn, that could make me hate you. Nothing. There's not anything that could stop me loving you even a fraction less than I do now and always have. You'll always be the most important thing in my life."

That made her cry even more.

"So why don't you come up for air and talk to me, huh?"

Slowly, reluctantly, she pushed her head and shoulders up above the blankets and lay back on the pillow. Her dad hadn't switched the light on but the curtains were open and there was a bright moon. She could see him in outline across the room, sitting watching her.

"Hey kiddo," he said.

"Don't call me that," she said. "I'm not a kid any more, Dad. I wish I was, but I'm not."

"No," he said, "you're definitely not. But that doesn't mean I might not be able to help."

"I promise you Dad, this is really something you can't help with."

He nodded, but seemed in no hurry to go.

She was suddenly very aware that she was still completely naked under the blankets. She could still feel the dampness between her legs. It was strangely exciting, being naked with her father just a few feet away.

I'm a terrible person, she thought.

He moved slightly in the chair and the moonlight caught his lower body. It looked like he was wearing jeans. Certainly trousers. They weren't his pyjamas. But when she saw him earlier, he'd been wearing them for sure.

"Did you get changed, Dad?"

"What do you mean?"

"You're not wearing your pyjamas."

"Oh... yeah." He seemed embarrassed now. "I, um, spilt something on them."

That didn't really make sense, but she decided to let it go. There was enough awkwardness in the air already without making it worse.

She took a deep breath.

"I just had a bad night, Dad, and I was feeling a bit... crazy."

He nodded.

"I don't know what I was thinking... I'm sorry you had to see me... I won't do it again, I promise."

He nodded again, slowly.

"Linda, honey... if you were selling drugs, or coming home drunk, or webcamming from the living room, I would worry. But if you get the occasional urge to go

au naturel

around the house... well, maybe just give me a bit of warning, but I'll cope, ok?"

She snorted a little at that.

"OK, dad."

It's not just the nakedness though Dad, she thought. Didn't you notice I had a finger in my pussy? Maybe he hadn't.

A part of her felt a tiny bit disappointed about that.

There was another silence, but it felt more comfortable this time. Linda felt some of the wanton recklessness from earlier return. Her dad was just an outline, a shadow against the window. He could be anybody, really. And she was lying here, naked and wet.

I wonder if he can smell me, she suddenly thought. And almost immediately she was disgusted with herself again. You really want to spoil things between you, she thought. You don't deserve him.

But she still felt mischievous.

"Dad," she said.

"Yes hun?"

"How do you know about webcamming anyway?"

He chuckled.

"Well, I've been meaning to tell you Linda, and um, well, it's a bit embarrassing, but, um... I don't actually work in Compliance, you know."

"You don't?"

"No... I'm actually known on the Internet as... um... Big Dave."

She burst out laughing.

Her dad was mock offended. "Who do you think put this roof over your head, young lady?"

"Big Dave?" she managed to splutter. "And what kind of webcamming services does big Dave supply?"

"Best you not know, I think. But I can tell you they're extremely lucrative."

"Is that so? Yeah... maybe I'd best stay in the dark then."

There was another silence, then Linda started laughing again. Her dad had a way of making everything feel ok again. There was that easy intimacy between them again, that connection between them that she'd always loved.

"So, you had an OK evening with Art?" he asked.

She stiffened slightly - he was still nosing around - but she was feeling much better now. She could tell him a bit about it. Not the whole thing, god no. But he wanted to know she was ok, and she owed him a bit of the truth.

"It was fine, Dad. Just a bit... disappointing."

Her Dad didn't say anything. Just waited patiently in the dark.

"I was kind of all set for a nice night, and then... well his parents came home and I had to head back."

"Ah," said her dad. "Parents can be very thoughtless like that."

He seemed set to say something more, then stopped.

"What?" asked Linda. "What were you going to say, Big Dave?"

Her father chuckled. "This might be too much information, but I remember once your Mum and I... way before you were born, when we were very young... her parents came home early and I had to jump out of her window. From upstairs. I was lucky I didn't break my neck."

"Wow, really?" She was enthralled at the idea.

"Yes." He started laughing.

"What? What are you laughing at?"

"Thing is... I was... well, not dressed."

"You jumped out of her window naked?"

"Yes, pretty much."

"Couldn't she throw your clothes down?"

"She tried... but the important ones got stuck in a tree."

Linda started giggling uncontrollably.

"But I got my socks," said her dad. "Well, one of them." This made her laugh even more.

"So did you go home in just a sock?"

"Eventually," he said. "But actually that wasn't the worst of it."

"It got WORSE?"

"Oh yeah," he said. "The trouble was, her mum and dad knew I was there, because my car was still out front."

"Oh. My. God. DAD!"

"And so, er, her Dad started looking for me around the garden, with a torch. Luckily it was quite dark, not like tonight. And so I was sort of, well, dodging around the garden, holding my sock, while Bernard tried to hunt me down."

It took Linda nearly a minute to recover. When she was just regaining control, she managed to splutter out "you... did ... say... holding your... sock, didn't you... Daddy!"

He laughed too. "Yes, I did say that, young lady. Though..."

"Oh my god... what now Dad!"

"Um... no, I think that's definitely enough information."

"Oh COME ON Dad. Please!"

"Well.. let's just say, for whatever reason, I was still.. well, parts of me were still..."

Linda clapped her hand over her mouth. "Nooo!"

"Er... yes. Normally you'd have thought the shock and the fresh air would have... helped, but... not on this occasion."

Linda envisaged her father, running around the garden, stiff cock bobbing merrily up and down, pursued by her grandfather with a torch.

It was the funniest thing ever. Maybe a little sexy, in a strange way, but definitely hysterical.

Dad could do that, she realised. He could make you feel better like that. Tell you something about himself and make himself out to be an even bigger idiot than you thought you were yourself. Even as she giggled she felt a sharp, sudden rush of love for him.

"But you don't tell anybody else about that, OK?"

"No," she agreed. "Though I wish I could. I love it! I wish I'd seen it."

"That," he said, "would have been extremely strange in many ways."

There was another comfortable silence. Linda wriggled over in bed to get away from the chilly damp patch she'd realised she was in.

"Sex is just the weirdest thing, Dad, isn't it?"

"Yes," he agreed. "It turns all into total headcases, the things we do for it. But... there we are. It can also be pretty wonderful, of course."

"Tonight was kind of about sex, Dad. What happened to me, I mean."

"I thought maybe it was," he said softly. So he had seen her what she was doing, perhaps.

"I got all worked up, and then... well, Art couldn't really... deliver."

"Poor Art," said her father solemnly. "I'm so sorry."

"Dad!"

"No seriously," he said. "Why would I wish impotence on any young man dating my beautiful daughter?"

She reached behind her and grabbed a pillow and threw it at him. As she did so her blankets slipped over her chest and down to her waist. The cool air felt pleasantly wicked on her nipples. Reluctantly she pulled the blankets back over her, but she sensed her father was looking at her and had seen a glimpse of them in the moonlight. Ah well, she thought, he saw them earlier anyway.

And talking of glimpses, she remembered now the outline of him from earlier, when he'd come out after seeing her on the landing.

"Dad?" she said.

"Yes hun?"

"When you came to the door and saw me earlier... did you have the same problem that you did that time in grandpa's garden? Is that why you changed?"

He shuffled a little uneasily in his chair.

"Um, well, the thing is..."

"It's ok Dad, really. I'm sorry. I don't think I ever realised how... lonely you must be sometimes."

"No," said her father. "I'm really not. I've got you, and that's all I've ever wanted."

"But... you must feel like sometimes, you really want... need... more than I can give you."

"I manage," he said. "It's not that hard, really. Er, I mean..."

She giggled again. "That's exactly what the problem is! Or was, anyway!"

"Yes," he admitted ruefully. "I suppose it was. But I don't think we should be discussing it."

"You were the one who brought it up, Big Dave."

More giggling.

"Oh God," said her dad. "Spare me the juvenile double-entendres." But that just made her laugh even more.

"I should go to bed," he said. "I think we've both probably heard more than we want to about each other." He rose to go.

She didn't want him to. "I haven't," she said. "I want to know more. It's really nice, Dad, it makes me feel less awkward about what I did earlier. We're both grown-ups. Why can't we talk about grown-up things?"

Her dad settled back into the chair. "Just a few more minutes then. But we're both going to be exhausted in the morning."

"I won't be able to sleep anyway."

She took a deep breath. In the dark, her father just a dark outline, it was easier to talk about it than she thought. "That was part of the problem. I felt so... worked up. I was sort of roving around the house, feeling naughty and daring. I'd taken all my clothes off - I really wanted to be wicked."

Silence from her father.

"You ever feel like that?"

"Of course," he said quietly. "More often than you probably think."

"Poor Dad."

"Like I said, I'm fine with it. Really."

She hesitated. She wasn't at all sure she wanted to say what had come into her mind, but that was selfish.

"You know... if you wanted to..."

"What?" He sounded suspicious... and maybe just a little hopeful?

"This might freak you out but... if you wanted to... I think Angie would probably... you know... with you."

"Angie! Jesus! You've... discussed this?"

"Just... once. Maybe twice. Not more than three times. She's really pretty Dad, and she really likes you."

"She does?"

She smiled in the darkness. Male vanity, they couldn't help themselves.

"No, I couldn't. It would be wrong in all sorts of ways. She's your age!"

"I'm an adult, Dad. I can drive and vote and... everything." She'd been going to say "fuck" but realised it was probably not what her father wanted to hear. And, strictly speaking, nor was it yet true.

"No, definitely not. And I really don't think you should be talking... my god, the idea of you two talking about me like I was some kind of... stallion to be serviced!"

"It's not like that Dad! I care about you and I want you to be happy, and she really likes you, and if you both want it then why not? What's wrong with it?"

"It's not right!"

"Says who?"

"People... everybody!"

"Well, first of all, who's going to tell them? And, second of all, you've always said to me that as long as you feel good about something you've done, other people's opinions don't mean a thing."

"Well, yes, but this is different!"

"How?"

"You really want me to... fuck your friend?"

She gasped softly at that. She couldn't remember her father ever using that word before. It was like a jolt of electricity. He didn't sound angry though. More... despairing... maybe something else?

"If you'd like to... fuck her, and I think you would, and if she wants to... with you, then that's what I want too."

"Oh my God," said her father. "I should have gone back to my room when I said I was going to."

He moved uneasily in his chair, seemingly lost in thought. He brushed his hand across his groin then suddenly took it away, as if remembering where he was.

Inside those trousers, she thought, my father's hard cock is straining to get out.

The thought sent a shiver through her, right through the centre of her, emanating outwards from the base of her groin.

I'd like to see it, she thought. I wish my father would unzip his jeans and show me his cock. Just from over there. In the moonlight would be fine. I bet it would look lovely. I bet Angie would love it. She would bend her head down over it and open her mouth and...

"Lyn," said her father softly. "Thank you for... the offer, I suppose. I know you mean well. In some ways it's the most generous thing I've ever heard. Certainly one of the craziest. But... no."

"Why not Dad?" Part of her was pleased, but part of her wanted to keep the image in her head. A young girl her own age, kneeling in front of her father, mouth open...

"Because you're the most important thing to me, and this would change things forever between us in a way I don't want. So, let's forget this conversation ever happened, ok?"

"I don't think we ever will," she said.

"No," he said after a moment. "Perhaps not. But we should try."

He stood up.

"I'm going to bed. Goodnight sweetheart."

"Goodnight Daddy."

She sat up and reached out her arms to him. The blanket was pinned under her arm, but it fell slightly, revealing the upper slopes of her breasts.

He stepped over to the bed and reached down to kiss her cheek.

"Good night sweetie"

("If you like a boy," Angie had said. "And need a way of showing it and he's being a bit slow, one good trick is to turn a cheek kiss into a mouth kiss. It absolutely sends the message, even if he just thinks it's an accident. He'll start thinking about you in a different way from then on.")

She only remembered Angie saying that afterwards. As her father reached down to kiss her, without thinking she turned her mouth to his so their lips touched. She opened her mouth as she did so, and gently darted out her tongue to taste him. He tasted good. And he smelt good, he always did, she loved her father's smell. She wanted to lose herself in it.

He gasped slightly at the kiss but didn't pull away. He just stayed, head bowed, their mouths just an inch apart.

She relaxed her grip on the blankets, letting them fall. Her breasts were directly beneath him now. Her nipples twitched deliciously again in the cool air.

More deliberately, in a move that seemed to take an eternity and with no conscious thought, her hand moved towards him. The hand seemed to belong to somebody else. Slowly it travelled across the darkness until her fingers gently brushed his groin. He was hard, rock hard, and he gasped again at her touch.

"Poor Daddy," she said softly.

Final (?) chapter coming soon...