Naughty Texts
"I know. I don't care."
I wish I could tell you I was confident of the consequences of my actions, that everything would be good, positive... okay. But I wasn't sure of anything... except my need for her, and her willingness. Though I've never been a gambler and rarely even spontaneous, let alone incautious, I very eagerly threw caution to the wind and risked everything, a life of hard work and investment, to accept her invitation.
I could point to a lot of moments that influenced my decision, my needs as a man, and my utter failing as a father. I could explain how my wife and I had grown apart and unfulfilled. Or how since turning 50 years old I seemed to be going through something I assured myself would never occur, a mid-life crisis; making me sentimental and nostalgic, two things I'd never been.
I could tell you it started out innocently, me sharing my interests and unintentionally unburdening myself emotionally to my 25-year-old daughter. How we spent more and more time together, unconsciously finding reasons to include each other in our daily routines. How each admission, confession, joke, and secret shared, seemingly harmlessly expanded the depth and boundaries of our relationship. But of course, there was nothing innocent in either her offer, nor my acceptance. And certainly 'innocent' cannot be used to describe a father in his daughter's bed, using her body to unburden himself physically.
Yet, it all started innocently enough when Shaylee moved back home just months ago.
****
My wife, Shelby, was on her fifth or sixth design for remodeling the back half of our house in half as many years. This included the family room and half bath, as well as two bedrooms and a full bath that she seemed intent on combining into a second master suite. One of those bedrooms had been our daughter's childhood bedroom; permanently empty now going on four years.
My interest in Shelby's plans tended to fade with each unrealized iteration. Her inability to be decisive about decorating and remodeling used to be endearing, back before she became entrenched, unable to share or concede control of anything, and back when I had more patience for her... quirks.
Our differences used to work for us, we used to compliment each other, she would suggest options, I would weigh practical considerations, and we'd compromise and make it happen.
It stopped working at some point, Shelby's indecisiveness began to frustrate me, and my tendency to see most things as a problem to be solved stopped being what my wife wanted from me, or at least it stopped being enough.
At least that's what I'd learned from months of couple's therapy. I really had hoped therapy would help, I still held a thin thread of such hope, but honestly, I think it made things worse. We used to be a team, we used to want to help each other cope with life, but in recounting all the aggravations and grievances of decades of marriage it seemed like our relationship had been reduced to score keeping, a tit-for-tat accounting of how we spend our time, how we live.
When Shaylee, our 25 year old daughter, Face Timed us crying, saying she had broken up with her fiancé and wanted to quit her job and move back home, Shelby and I were shocked but agreed, certainly hoping, and at least initially expecting, it would only be temporary until the long time couple patched things up. However, it wasn't long before Shaylee admitted the reason for their break up was she had discovered Chris, her fiancé, was having an affair with a co-worker, a male co-worker.
I resisted every urge and fiber of my being to say 'I fucking knew it,' to both my daughter and my wife, and not just because he was homosexual, or bi, or whatever hyper-specific, non-binary flavor of the gender spectrum the boy labeled himself.
Despite obvious basic intelligence, an engaging personality, and seeming wide-ranging interests, something had always bothered me about Chris. An over simplification would be he seemed not to know who he was. He would put a lot of effort into adopting whatever social movement was fashionable at any given moment, but he seemed to lack depth and grit.
I'm not ignorant or hostile to the notion that young people take longer to find themselves these days, and Chris appeared to have my daughter's heart, so I had been supportive and encouraging to my potential son-in-law, but the nagging feeling he wasn't built for the world remained throughout their relationship.
Mostly I'd always thought the young man was too not focused enough on the dangers of the real world. Too enthralled by identity politics and all it's distractions. Too convinced of future opportunities. Too sure of tomorrow. Too confident of societal protections, while being blind to the realities of the world and the ill intent of the wolves among us.
Despite my misgivings I had hoped for the best and had at least been relieved Chris wasn't some meathead, Ken-doll pretty boy, who would treat our daughter like an accessory; at least until he became an overweight looser, pining for his past glories and then would betray her while seeking a younger reminder of his youth, as those types tend to do.
I had enough empathy to feel bad for the boy, hiding his true sexuality from my daughter (and I assume others) for years, while cruel, must have been an unimaginable burden. I tried to assure my daughter it was better to find out now, than (any more) years down the road. I even offered that there were likely very real feelings involved on his part and maybe they could continue to be (and should have always been) just friends. Of course she was too hurt to see beyond her own pain at the time, but I was confident she would see the silver lining soon enough.
Shelby seemed fixated on how our daughter hadn't realized Chris was gay sooner. This lead to several conversations about sex, sexuality, and 'how things had changed."
My wife didn't seem to have a concrete view of the matter and even though I was adamant that I supported the right to be who you want to be, and love who you want to love, and that laws should reflect that; I thought it foolish not to acknowledge that there were still real world considerations and limitations, however unfair.
Shelby said I was terrible when I reminded her that when we were their age, the kid would have simply been labeled a 'fag' long before any actual proof of his sexual orientation was known, and social stigma would have prevented him from ever having been in a position to date someone like our daughter to begin with.
I told her I was just pointing out that meeting and dating used to require more social interaction than it does today. Common interests used to be dictated by real world life experience and not just issues and viewpoints you agreed about online.
Things change and maybe what it means to be a man, or even just male, has changed also, but I just hadn't been able to help be suspicious of the boy, not least of all because of the gradual change in my daughter from the bubbly, positive, former cheerleader, who wouldn't leave the house without spending time on her appearance, to the increasingly plain, demure, and dour person she became after they began cohabitating.
To each his own, but you don't date a ten and work to turn them into a six. It wasn't 'gaydar,' so much as Occam's Razor, being gay was the simplest explanation for him not appreciating my daughter for the outrageously hot piece of ass that she is.
Obviously my bias goes well beyond just parental pride, so I suppose this is the point in the story I should come clean about my less than fatherly feelings for my daughter. Always a pretty girl, in high school it became impossible to ignore Shaylee's beauty as she blossomed and her sexuality became ever more pronounced. She quickly evolved from a pretty girl to a beautiful woman and though never hyper-feminine, my daughter very obviously enjoyed being a woman, she willingly accentuated what she had and led with it.
By the time Shaylee turned 18, she was the embodiment of female physical perfection, thick long blonde hair, heart shaped face, big brown-green eyes, full lips, thin neck, large breasts, trim waist, amazing ass, and impossibly tone, sexy legs. I was happy my daughter felt comfortable enough to express her femininity and quickly found myself looking forward to seeing what she wore each day.
And Shaylee seldom disappointed, once an adult, her clothes seemed to instantly go from form fitting but decent, to tight and suggestive.
My wife and I still had a relatively healthy sex life at that time. Though both busy with life, we still made time to be intimate whenever we were both home, but I'd always needed more than that, and had always had a healthy daily masturbation habit that my wife was well aware and supportive of. Of course Shelby certainly was not aware that our daughter had gradually become the target of my libidinous lust, and the near sole focus of my fantasies by the time she graduated.
Despite my taboo desires, I'd been able to draw a line and maintain the boundaries between father and pervert. I was 'Dad' the vast majority of the time: loving, proud, encouraging, and protective. However, 'me time' became a rabbit hole of all things incest, with Literotica becoming my go-to for inspiration, especially once Shaylee was out of the house.
All this said, and despite my wife and I growing apart in the intervening years, when Shaylee moved back in I had no perverted agenda, no hope or expectations that something might actually 'happen' between us, I'd never misconstrued my taboo fantasy with any mutual interest on her part. My concern really was for my daughter's well being, I assumed with time and support she would rebound and be in a hurry to resume her adult life away from her parents.
Once back home, it thankfully only took a couple of weeks for Shaylee to emerge from her cocoon of emotional pain. Little by little, day-by-day, she rejoined the world and started to blossom into the girl I had missed so much.
By the one-month mark she was nearly back to her old self and seemed genuinely excited for the future once more, announcing she intended to start looking for employment and an apartment.
As her father I was glad to see my daughter rebound from her breakup and regain her emotional footing and past optimism. I impressed upon Shaylee that she should take time to relax and get her feet back under her before making any rash decisions.
I admit my offer was double sided, I did think she should consider her options and not rush into a new job, but after having had Shaylee back home for several weeks, I found myself selfishly, desperately, wanting her not to move out again any time soon.
