We'd always been close. It had always been obvious that she was a daddy's girl. Whether it playing pretend as me or coming to me for advice in her teens. My wife had felt the whole range of emotions about it. At first, she felt underappreciated as the woman who had brought her into the world. Then she found it cute... Then proud...and later she had been quite jealous. Claire came to me after her first period and made me swear not to tell her mother. I ended up giving the puberty talk and I think Sarah, resented me for taking that traditionally mother daughter conversation away from her. Personally, I'd always cherished the attention. Even the puberty talk. I feel most dads would shy away from that, but I felt so privileged to be her trusted person and to get to explain why it was all normal.
In recent years I'd been even more grateful for our bond. When I first learnt of Sarah's illness it shook me. I was devoted to that woman. The only person I'd ever dated, and suddenly she was dying. Not that she was dead, but that I knew I would watch her decline and fail slowly over 12-24 months. I quit my job at that stage. I had money put away and told everyone it was so I could care for Sarah fulltime and make the most of the time we had. Truth is I couldn't face having to go to work. I could only motivate myself to get out of bed so that Sarah was cared for and couldn't see the impact everything was having on me. Claire was the one who spotted it. Spotted that I was depressed and spotted, even before I knew it, that I wasn't planning on much of a life once Sarah passed. She made me see a therapist, and her calls kept me sane. There were moments when I was crying down the phone to my daughter that I couldn't believe how open I was being.
Which was the other thing I was grateful for. That even without my wife, there was another woman in my life that I loved so deeply. She was my rock when I first was on my own: Helped me move out of the house. She was my DIY buddy, my best friend, and my daughter all rolled into one. Slowly I adjusted and she had her own milestones as she finished up college and found her own place. And then it was my turn to support her. Once the economy dipped and she was booted out of her dream graduate job, I consoled her telling her it was just a case of first in first out, she'd done nothing wrong. When the rent got too much without a job, I helped her move into my guest room.
They say that your children revert to their adolescent selves when they move back home. Not that I had any worries as Claire had been the model of a perfect teenage daughter, but she made the adjustment pretty well. I worked and she helped around the house. There were moments when I came home to my dinner on the table and someone excited to hear about my day that she reminded me of her mother. An obvious parallel perhaps, but one that didn't strike me until she was living with me. In terms of looks she wasn't a clone of either her parents. She was tall, strong, and filled out. Always a smile on her face and most of the time her dark thick hair pulled back into a ponytail. Her mother had the dark hair but a thinner frizzy sort of style, and neither of us had her athleticism. Over the years I'd met a few boyfriends and someone me and Sarah debated whether or not was a girlfriend. For the record I said yes on that one and am still convinced I was right. Her taste had gradually improved but the one thing they all had in common was a slightly lustful look in their eye when talking to you. Not salivating or constantly staring but a slight reluctance to make eye contact and an expression that said I've made out with/fondled/fucked your daughter. I found it funny in a parental duty of torturing your kids partner kind of way but had never thought of the implication that it meant my daughter was pretty hot. I called her beautiful and thought it was true but in all my years as a parent hadn't ever really thought about it in a non-platonic way. She was just my little girl and now my little woman. Nothing I hadn't seen before.
But what I saw when I came home early that day... Well, that was something I hadn't seen before. I was done with my work, and it was a Friday afternoon. I wasn't going to sit around and thought it would be nice to relieve Claire of the cooking duties for once and headed home just after lunch. I knew she was home when I pulled into the garage as her car was there and I could hear music playing from the livingroom which the garage opened into.
She mustn't have heard me drive in because I walked in to find her masturbating on the couch. Well, a bit more than just masturbating. She had her legs spread which incidentally meant her privates were facing directly at the door and were first thing I saw. She was naked...except... she was wearing one of my work shirts... unbuttoned. I recognized it as the one I had worn the day before. In her hand, and what she was rubbing into herself, was a bundled up piece of fabric which I realized were a pair of my boxer shorts...the ones I had worn the day before.
She hadn't noticed me walk in as her head was leaned back with eyes. What does a dad do in this situation? I couldn't leave in case she heard, and I had to explain why I didn't say anything. I couldn't say anything because that highlights that I was in the situation. Plus, what would I say? But I couldn't not say anything...Especially because I was implicitly involved.
"Claire?" I uttered uncertainly as my brain still churned through my options. She startled and screamed "Shit Dad" and vaulted behind the couch accidentally flashing her butt to me.
"Sorry Sorry" I yelled deflecting my eyes and running for the safety of my bedroom "I finished work early." I slammed the door and began to catch my breath. I went to lay on the bed to process what I had just seen and felt a tightness in my pants. I was horrified to find my cock had swelled with arousal. I found my hand touching the area to confirm what I was feeling was true. It had been a long time since I'd gotten hard without the aid of porn, and I'd forgotten just how much stronger organic arousal felt. For more evidence I undid the button and released the constriction of my work pants and slid my hand into my boxers. Definitely hard. And it definitely felt good. Which it shouldn't. Because Claire was my daughter. How was that possible? Like evolutionarily shouldn't there be a block on that? I inadvertently began replaying the scene over in my head trying to figure out how I could have become aroused by it. All the time I was still touching myself and feeling more and more confused because the more I thought about this thing that should be so gross It kept feeling so good.
I was disturbed by a knock on my bedroom door, so I darted under the covers feeling like I was 30 years younger and about to be scolded my Mother for sinning. Claire poked her head around the door
."..Dad...? Can we talk about what just happened?"
I was still in a state of confused arousal and wanted to shut down the conversation "its okay, its fine, you weren't to know and its natural... right?"
She walked over and perched on the edge of the bed looking slightly forlorn and now wearing a white bathrobe. "Natural? Dad... I was...There isn't anything natural about... I... I had your clothes." Her eyes were focused on the fibers of my bedroom carpet. There was silence for a few moments because I didn't know how to respond. "I was...helping with the laundry...and I smelt your smell and it happened... I'm so sorry Dad... I said to myself that I would stop doing it"
I was even more confused now then I was about my arousal. "Doing what?" I asked.
"The wearing your clothes and... touching...I know its bad... I tried hiding it but I knew you knew and" Tears were welling up in her eyes."..and now I can't deny it.
"I don't know what you are talking about" said processing the new information.
"You started doing your own laundry again and kept stopping me from trying to help...You knew I was being...Gross. I thought you were going to kick me out..." She was fully sobbing now so I gestured for her to cuddle in close as reassurance. A mistake because my dwindling erection became rejuvenated by her in contact with my body.
"shhhh" I cooed trying to stem the crying "I'm not trying to kick you out. You are welcome as long as you want. And I never expected you to do my laundry. I'm a grown man I can do It myself." I kissed her forehead to soothe her and felt an unwelcome twitch down there. "You've not done anything wrong"
"I have Dad...when I first moved back home after college... I wanted to help with laundry. Trying to be a good daughter and help with Mom gone. They all smelt so much like you, just so masculine. I was home alone, and I missed her. Your smell on the clothes comforted me... I would sneak them away to my room and sleep with them when I felt sad. When you were at work once, I started wearing them... Its then when I first took your boxers... First to wear with the other things. They smelt comforting but also...different. Taking underwear and wearing your felt naughty. Then the touching started."
