My Baby

Not the usual caveats. Yep, spelling is still usually spot on as Word is kind enough to underline anything spelled incorrectly, and I still use Australian / British standard English, otherwise known as proper English. However, I now have an editor / proofreader, fellow member

OhDave1

. He offered his services being a fan of my work and I gratefully accepted. All mistakes are owned up to by the author. Please remember this is just fantasy and I'm still an amateur.

Comments and feedback are appreciated as always.

*****

My baby, my baby

She's all that I need

Hanging around

She's all I need

She makes my world feel so good to me

- 'My Baby' by Cold Chisel

*****

"Oh, daddy!"

That brought me to a screeching halt around three steps away from my daughter's bedroom door. It was the moan of a young woman exploring herself. Or, if I wanted to put it crudely, the noises of a young woman in the throes of masturbation and hoping an orgasm would arrive imminently.

It was 11pm on a weeknight. I always went to bed at the same time on a weeknight. And since she was a little girl, I always checked on my daughter before going to bed. When she was a little girl and her bedtime was earlier, she'd be fast asleep. I'd make sure she was tucked in, kiss her cheek, and leave the door open so a little light shone through. If she had nightmares, she knew exactly where to go, her parents' bed where daddy would keep her safe from the monsters.

As she got older, I still popped in to say goodnight. By the time she was a teenager, and we had relaxed until the time she had to go to bed, I'd find her awake most of the time, sometimes reading, sometimes on her phone, sometimes already asleep. But her face would always light up with a smile when I knocked and pushed the door wider.

"Daddy!" she'd exclaim happily, even during later teenage years. It was a ritual by this stage, my daughter eager for a hug and kiss from her father. I'd worried for years that eventually she'd close the door and not want that hug and a kiss any longer. But the door was ajar and that was her signal to me that she wanted that last bit of affection before she went to sleep.

My daughter knew I went to bed at the same time every night. It was three weeks since she'd turned eighteen. I wasn't stupid. I was more than aware she masturbated. All young men and women explored themselves. I didn't ask but knew there was a chance she was already sexually active. I didn't ask, she didn't tell. It was just another sign my little girl was now a young woman.

"Oh, Daddy!" she cried, "Oh, Daddy, please fuck me."

Leaning against the wall, I had to keep myself under control. Hearing my little girl moaning and crying out in such a manner was causing a reaction in my body I didn't want. I was getting hard. I should have turned around and just gone to bed, but my feet were stuck in cement, and there was that small part of me that did wonder what exactly she was doing to herself. Just her fingers? Had she bought sex toys? A dildo? A vibrator?

Shaking my head of those thoughts, I took another deep breath and was ready to take another step forward when she cried out again.

"Yes, Daddy!" she cried out, "Oh please cum in me, Daddy. Fill my hot little pussy with all your potent cum!"

Then she cried out and I think I heard my little girl have an orgasm not for the first time. The moan and whimpers coming from her room would have caused even an impotent man to achieve an erection. There was near silence for the next couple of minutes, willing my erection to go down, before I turned around and walked back half a dozen steps. Ensuring I was whistling, I knocked lightly on her door.

"Hey, sweetie," I said, pushing the open ever so slightly. She was lying back underneath her covers, her cheeks bright red and her forehead looking rather damp with sweat, "You okay, sweetie?"

"Just fine, Daddy. Feeling a little warm tonight."

I bet, is what I thought, considering the noises I'd just heard, and there was no missing her scent in her room. It was a scent I'd grown used to recently. This was just the first time she'd been so flagrant regarding her masturbation. Walking over to her bed, I sat on the edge as she sat up, her vest top hanging loose. She'd taken to wearing tops around the house that showed off her cleavage, as my daughter had been blessed with a pair of C-cup breasts, verging on D-cup. My wife, Erin, had given her grief for it since she'd started to develop. I also knew that she'd be wearing nothing more than panties, but had a brief thought, wondering if she was naked.

Hugging her tightly as always, she sighed happily as I kissed her cheek. "I love you, sweetheart," I whispered.

"I love you, Daddy." She leaned back and smiled. "You're not going to stop coming to say goodnight, are you?"

"Only if you want me to stop."

"Never. I love it when you come to say goodnight. You've been doing it for so long now, when you're occasionally away for work, I can't go to sleep." She paused, muttering, "Not like Mum would ever do anything for me."

I wasn't going to open that can of worms this late at night. I knew my daughter and my wife had been at loggerheads for years by now. What didn't help is that Erin, my supposedly loving wife, had grown increasingly cold towards me in the past couple of years. Whether it was jealousy of her daughter, or she was just tired or bored of our marriage, I still wasn't sure. I'd done my best to rekindle the flames of romance, but she just didn't seem interested.

Hugging her for a couple of minutes, I finally leaned back and kissed her forehead. "Goodnight, sweetheart."

"Goodnight, Daddy. I love you."

"I love you, Olivia," I whispered back.

Before shutting the door, I gazed back at my daughter one last time. She'd already turned onto her side, but she was watching me go. Closing the door, I took a couple of steps before stopping and sighing, running a hand down my face. I was already wondering if we needed to have a conversation. One hell of an awkward conversation, but a conversation nonetheless.

Walking into the master bedroom, Erin was already turned to her side away from me. Whether she was asleep or not, I found myself not caring. She'd shown next to no interest in intimacy for months by now. Part of me thought she was cheating, and another part actually hoped she was. It would make what felt like the inevitable divorce almost easier on my conscience. Some other fool could put up with her shit. At least my daughter was eighteen and couldn't be taken from me now.

Heading to our ensuite bathroom, I was going to have a pee when I glanced down to see my cock was hard again. Almost laughing to myself, I closed my eyes and tried to picture my wife. I then shook those thoughts away, figuring that would just kill my erection.

"No... Don't..." I muttered to myself, "That's a whole can of worms you don't want to open..."

Willing my erection to go away, I finally managed to pee, washed my hands, and brushed my teeth, before heading to bed. I didn't even consider spooning with my wife, figuring I'd earn an elbow in the gut or an accusation of trying to start something. God forbid I would want to snuggle with my wife.

I found my dreams were rather vivid that night, and most involved beautiful women, somewhat like my daughter. Her face never appeared, but there was no doubt my imagination was working overtime. I woke up halfway through the night to find myself jerking off in my sleep. That hadn't occurred in a long time.

"Fuck it," I muttered to myself, getting out of bed, and heading to the ensuite bathroom again. Standing over the toilet, I jacked off to all the images I could remember and came harder than I had in what felt like years. "Oh fuck," I groaned, watching as I shot quite the load into the bowl.

Glancing into the mirror, I was surprised I didn't have a haunted, guilty look on my face. I simply felt lighter on my feet and relief that everything was in working order. I was approaching forty and the supposed drop in libido hadn't happened. If my wife wasn't such a cold bitch, I'd still be hoping to fuck her every night of the week.

Sliding back into bed, I dropped off straight away, and woke up feeling rather refreshed when my alarm went off. I showered and shaved first before getting dressed, my wife getting up while I was dressing to start getting ready herself. She would wish me 'Good morning' and that was about it.

Heading into the kitchen to ready myself some breakfast, Olivia skipped in looking fresh as a daisy. We were all early risers in the family. Erin and I started early, while Olivia always went with me as I would drop her at the train station. If she didn't have an early lecture, she'd go to the library to study. I think she just liked to spend as much time with her old man as possible.

"Morning, Daddy," she stated brightly, giving me a hug and kiss on my cheek, "Oooh, still keeping the stubble. Makes you look even more handsome, Daddy."

"Morning, sweetheart. Sleep well?"

"Like a rock, Daddy."

I usually had toast with a coffee for breakfast. My daughter had cereal, yoghurt, fruit and a mug of tea. She always had an appetite, something I loved to see, aware of all the issues young women faced regarding their body image, which made me wonder where she put it all, though I knew she attended the gym, as she'd sometimes go with me, and still played netball during the winter.

Her mother breezed in fifteen minutes later, poured herself a coffee into her travel mug, and barely laid a peck on my cheek before saying 'Goodbye', neither of us getting a word in before we heard the front door close.

"What a bitch!" my daughter exclaimed.

Raising my eyes to hers across the table, I remained silent for a few seconds. "She's your mother, Olivia."

"How do you put up with her, Daddy?"

"What do you mean?"

"I'm not blind, Daddy. I'm not deaf either. She shows you absolutely no love and affection nowadays. And she's been jealous of me since I was about fourteen." I had no retort to her second argument as I'd been of the same opinion. "Do you think she's cheating on you, Daddy?"

"No idea. I'm sure many would claim that the signs are there, but it could only be happening when she's at work. She doesn't come home later, no nights out with the girls, and those other little signs are not present. Honestly, I think she's just ready to get out and go."

"Would that upset you, Daddy?"

"Honestly, right now, I'd be glad to see the back of her. I still love her, but she hasn't made it easy the past eighteen months or more. I'm nearly forty and don't want to face another forty years with her if this is my future. I'd rather be single and lonely than married and lonely."

My daughter smiled at me sadly as I think the idea of me feeling lonely would upset her. Taking a sip of my coffee, she then dropped her bombshell. "Did you hear me masturbating last night, Daddy?" I almost choked then spat out the coffee in my mouth, coughing a few times as she giggled. "I planned it for the time you would come to say goodnight to me, Daddy. I was so hot and horny, thinking about you walking in to find me playing with my hot and tight little pussy." She paused and added softly, "Virgin pussy, just for my daddy."

"Olivia," I warned.

This wasn't the first time she'd teased me, but her mother was usually about, so she couldn't be as vocal. Now with her mother having disappeared early, she was going at me with both barrels. "Why didn't you walk in, Daddy? Were you all hard for me?"

Sighing, I laid my mug of coffee back on the table. "Olivia, you're my daughter. I'm a married man."

"Unhappily married..."

"I won't confirm that or not, but I'm still married. And most important, you are my daughter. I'm aware that many daughters do have crushes on their fathers. I'm the only man who has been in your life since the day you were born. I know you love me."

"More than you could imagine, Daddy," she whispered.

Reaching across the table to take her hand, she smiled and squeezed back. "Masturbation is healthy, sweetheart. Using your imagination isn't illegal. But I'm your father. Fantasy is one thing. Reality is something else."

Finishing my breakfast, I placed my plate and mug into the dishwasher, returning to my bedroom to collect my things. My daughter returned from her bedroom with her bag. I took note of what she was wearing, looking somewhat like a schoolgirl. White blouse. Black skirt. Knee-high socks. Black shoes. All she needed was pigtails and a lollipop...

Escorting her out to the car, I always opened the door for her, earning a soft kiss on my cheek, before I drove her to the nearby train station. "I might study late if you could pick me up on the way home?"

"Just shoot me a message and let me know what you're doing."

I found myself distracted during the day with everything going on at work. Working as a manager for one of the largest construction firms in the country, I was one of those who would still get his hands dirty. I hated being stuck in an office all day, and on days we were short-staffed, you'd find me out on the worksite, getting my hands dirty, working up a sweat. When I'd first started dating my wife, it had definitely been the physical attraction from her.

No idea why that attraction had faded. I was still the same tall, broad man I'd always been and kept the usual middle-aged spread at bay. Maybe she truly was bored with me after sixteen years of marriage.

Thinking of my marriage just pissed me off as I felt like I'd done nothing wrong, at least nothing major. I'd managed to keep friends and a social life, but I didn't go out and get drunk every week. Most of 'my' friends turned into 'our' friends as she'd been friendly with their wives. I did my fair share around the house. And I'd certainly been attentive regarding her needs and was definitely involved in raising our daughter.

Thinking of my daughter left me nothing but confused as I didn't feel equipped to deal with what was happening. All I knew was that nothing could ever happen as she was my daughter. But I had a bad feeling she was going to go all out to possibly seduce me. And considering I thought it possible my wife was cheating, I didn't want to stoop to her level.

Most importantly, she was my daughter and fathers didn't fuck their daughters. Although.... I guess the internet might tell me otherwise.

My daughter sent a text to me a couple of hours before I finished, asking for me to pick her up from the train station on my way home. Pulling up at the station, she was waiting for me, practically skipping to the car as she slid into the passenger seat, leaning over to kiss my cheek. "Thank you, Daddy," she stated softly.

"No worries. Dad's Taxi Service is available whenever you need it."

"Can we pick up some dinner on the way home?"

I gave it some thought before nodding. "Fuck it, why not? Any ideas?"

"Pizza!"

"Call that place we usually get them from. I don't mind waiting a few minutes."

As she put her call through, I thought about calling the wife and letting her know, but I figured she'd just bitch at me. Firstly, because it would give her something to bitch at me about. Secondly, because she'll know it was Olivia's idea, and that would just give her more ammunition.

Waiting for the pizzas outside the shop, I was leaning back against the car when Olivia stood in front of me, leaning back against my chest, ensuring my arms were wrapped around her. With my height of six-two, and my little girl barely five-four, she easily fit her head underneath my chin. Feeling her sigh, I leaned down and kissed her cheek. "You alright, sweetheart?"

"Just happy spending time with my daddy," she replied softly, turning to kiss my cheek in return.

I'd ordered three pizzas, aware the wife was probably at home, and it was unlikely she would have started preparing dinner. I'd tried to share the cooking with her, and when Olivia had been old enough, she'd loved to join me in the kitchen. As for my wife... Well, another example of the poor relationship between mother and daughter.

If it sounds like I've let it go, I've done my best to intervene. More than one argument with my wife had been about her attitude and treatment of our daughter. She insisted nothing was wrong with their relationship and she didn't appreciate me suggesting she was a bad parent. After a while, I didn't ignore it but tried to protect my daughter as best I could.

Arriving home a little later, Erin was sitting on the couch, and didn't look happy when I walked in with three pizzas. "Why did you buy those?"

"Olivia asked about dinner, and I bought them on the way home."

I heard her scoff though she followed Olivia and I into the kitchen. "Of course you did. Olivia snaps her fingers, and her daddy will do what she wants. I guess you picked her up from the station too." She turned to Olivia, who was getting plates from the cupboard. "She's perfectly capable of getting the bus home."

"I offered to pick her up, Erin," I stated, trying to prevent an argument.

Snatching the plate from Olivia, Erin sat at the opposite end of the table to me, with Olivia sitting to my left. "You baby her far too much, Andrew. She's eighteen years old and should be a fully functioning adult, not having to rely on her father to do everything for her."

"She's our daughter, Erin. Our role as parents didn't end the day that she turned eighteen. I wanted to buy her a car, considering she does have a driver's licence, but you didn't want to buy her a used car, forbidding your parents from doing it at the same time..."

Glancing at Olivia, she knew all this, but I recognised when she was hurting. Taking her hand, she returned such a lovely smile, it made my heart swell with my love for her in return. "Your father will always be here for you, Olivia. I promise." Erin scoffed and that just incensed me further. I slammed my palm on the table, Olivia jumped, and Erin glared at me. "Just what is your fucking problem, Erin?"

Throwing her pizza into the box, she looked at both of us with undisguised disdain. "She's eighteen and should be out of here already. There is no reason why she should still be living at home, rent-free..."

"She's studying, Erin. While she's still studying, she shouldn't have to pay rent. The minimal part-time work she does pays for her travel, her expenses for university, and maybe the occasional treat for herself."

She stood up and glared at me. "Our role as parents ended the day that she turned eighteen, Andrew. We've raised her. She's on her own now. It's sink or swim time. The fact she's relying on us still proves she needs to be shown the harsh realities of life."

I stood up and glared back. "Are you fucking serious right now, Erin? Our role as parents doesn't stop until the day we die. She is our child, and we should always be there for her. That's the whole point of being a parent. We don't turn off the taps just because she turned eighteen."

"She's an adult and should be treated like one."

"She will still be our child even when we're both in our nineties and she's in her seventies."

"You're being ridiculous, Andrew, and your continued coddling of our daughter is pathetic. If she wants to stay in our home, she should be paying rent at the least. Frankly, we should have put her out on her arse the day after her eighteenth."

Olivia burst into tears and ran out of the kitchen towards her bedroom. Seeing our daughter so upset merely incensed me further. "Are you fucking happy now, you miserable cow?" I roared, "I don't know what bug crawled up your arse and fucking died recently, but I'm getting really fucking tired of your attitude. Sort it out, Erin. Go to therapy. Talk to your parents. Or better yet, actually talk to your fucking husband instead of walking around with your entitled attitude. But I tell you one thing. You keep going at my daughter and you're going to find yourself thrown out on your arse. I'm tired of it and I won't let you hurt her anymore."