On the singularly incredible night that she offered up her virginity to me and I took it —at first reluctantly and then gladly — my daughter Stefani slept curled up in my arms in my king sized bed. It was the first time I'd shared my bed with anyone since the death of my beloved wife Pamela in a car wreck eight months prior.
Stefani and I both slept in the nude, of course; after the events of the past several hours, there was no longer any conceivable reason for modesty, and we felt no shame or stigma in being naked together. On the contrary, it was a great joy and an amazing feeling of freedom for the both of us. She cuddled up close to me, as close as my very breath, and wrapped her body around mine, maximizing the delicious skin-on-skin contact.
"Mmmm, Daddy," she murmured. "I love the way your body feels against me. I love the feel of your hairiness and your beard against my soft skin." She was just 18, auburn haired, green eyed, and totally reveling in her newfound, blossoming sexuality. "Do you love it, too?"
"Oh, you bet I do, baby girl," I smiled. Somewhere far off in the back of my mind was a tiny, squawking, insolent voice, like a panicked Tweety bird freaking out in a coal mine, still shrieking that there was
DANGER
, that it wasn't safe, but I casually reached a hand back, found the noisy little fucker, and squeezed the life out of it.
Shut up, you little feathered shit,
I thought with an inner smile.
The teal-colored satin sheet draped over our bodies, the pale moonlight filtering through the blinds and adding a shimmer of argent to the darkened room. Stef's auburn hair lay like a dark stain spilled across the pillows, her face mere inches from mine. I had been dozing for quite a while, and woke up in the night; the clock on the table across the room read 2:17 AM.
I slipped my hand beneath the sheet and grazed it lightly across Stefani's small, firm left breast, with its large, pale nipple. I still felt like the entire experience must have been a dream.
She sighed pleasurably as she slept.
Nope,
I thought to myself,
this is no dream.
I smiled, closed my weary eyes, went back to sleep and actually did begin to dream.
==
Oddly, I dreamt of Pamela, my deceased wife. In my dream, I was at my office at the advertising company in which I am a partner. I was seated at my desk working on a project when the phone rang. It was very much a lucid dream, one in which the dreamer is aware that he's dreaming, and I recognized the scenario as it began to unfold. The day Pamela had been killed, sitting at my desk was exactly where I had been in real life. A telephone call had come in to my desk from a police officer who broke the horrible news to me that there had been an automobile accident. Pamela's bright red 2007 Corvette convertible had been forced off the Interstate by a weary and careless semi-truck driver as she was coming home from a visit to her mother's house. She'd hit a concrete column on a bridge abutment at more than 75 miles an hour; there was almost nothing left of the Vette. The doctors said that Pamela had been killed instantly, and never knew what hit her.
When the phone rang, I knew immediately that it was going to be that particular piece of bad news; I'd had this dream untold dozens of times in the eight long months since I'd had to bury my wife. I had relived the nightmare over and over.
I picked up the phone with a businesslike "This is Addams," expecting to hear the voice of the cop. Instead, I heard Pam's delicate, breathy voice say, "Hi, honey." For some reason, although I was acutely aware, even within the dream, that she was dead, and I was caught by surprise that it was her on the phone rather than the cop, it still didn't seem at all unnatural to hear from her.
I could see her face in my mind. She had the same auburn hair as Stef, but her eyes were a deep mahogany brown. "Pamela," I said longingly, "Baby, I've missed you so much." My heart ached until I thought I would drop dead right there on the spot. They'd find my body seated in my office chair, and I'd be gone.
But Pam's voice brought me back to my senses. "I miss you, too, darling," she said softly, "but this is how our lives played out. It's all right, my love… you have to go on. You really do."
I hesitated over the next question I wanted to ask her. "Pam," I said, "are you…
happy?
" I found myself choking the words out. "What I meanis… is it true, what they say…? That is, about being free from pain and sorrow, and the cares of this world?"
"Oh, yes. It's true," she responded immediately. "I'm perfectly, infinitely happy, sweetheart. And I want you and Stevie to be happy too," using her personal nickname for Stefani. While Pam had doted on Stef, she'd been expecting our baby to be a boy — I never knew exactly why she'd been so certain — and when Stef turned out to be a girl, Pam, of course, loved her anyway and nicknamed her Stevie as a joke. The nickname had stuck for the past eighteen years.
I was suddenly apprehensive. "Stefani…?"
Did she know about us?
My heart pounded in my chest.
"Yes, honey. You've made Stefani so very happy by what's happened between the two of you," she reassured me. "It's nothing to be ashamed of at all. She's a grown woman now, and she knows what she wants… and, honey, she wants
you
. I want you to make each other happy for as long as you want it to continue."
The dream suddenly disappeared like a soap bubble bursting. I found myself awake and looked down at Stefani's sleeping form. She was still curled up tightly against my side, her breathing soft and low, her face lying on my chest, her hair fanned out across her face. Her leg was sprawled over my body, with her inner thigh resting directly on my cock, which rapidly began to harden as I started to wake up enough to take in the whole situation.
I thought about the dream I'd had and what Pam had said. Could that have been something real, or was I subconsciously finding a way to justify my own actions? I didn't know.
I pulled Stef closer to me and heard her give an appreciative, contented sigh in her sleep. I smiled and allowed myself to sink back into dreamland.
==
But I didn't have any more dreams that night, at least none that I recalled the next day. The next thing I was aware of was waking up to a dimly lit room and the sensation that someone was lying across my thighs.
The sleep-haze cleared and I looked down to find Stefani lying awake with her face near my cock, a broad grin on her face. She'd evidently been examining my penis closely for some time.
"Good morning, Daddy," she chirped. "Did you sleep well?"
"Never better," I smiled. "What about you, baby?"
"It was wonderful. I love sleeping in your arms," she said. She grinned saucily. "You know what I want for breakfast?"
My cock twitched. The proximity of her face to my dick was giving me a pretty damned good idea.
"Uhm… Mickey Mouse pancakes?" I grinned, referring to her favorite childhood breakfast.
"No, Daddy," she laughed with an evil grin on her lips. "Those were fine when I was six, but I'm all grown up now… don't you think so?"
"Mmmm. Yes, I'd say you're definitely a big girl now."
"Yup. And this big girl wants to have her Daddy's sausage for breakfast."
Holy fucking shit.
My cock stiffened at the thought of my darling daughter giving me head. I let out a low moan as it began to stand up.
"Will you teach me, Daddy?" she said, in her best little-girl voice.
Oh, god.
I smiled at her. "Just take it in your mouth, honey… not too deeply, until you get used to it, or it's liable to choke you… and suck on it like you would a popsicle, suck and lick and… just do what feels natural," I grinned. "If you hear me say 'Ow,' that's a bad thing." She giggled for a moment and then fell silent.
She locked eyes with me and I watched as she opened her wet, pink lips and took my cock deep into her mouth. She began to swirl her tongue around it and bob her head up and down as if she'd been doing it for years. "Ohhh,
fuck
," I groaned. "Stef… that feels
sooo
good."
She smiled wordlessly and increased the pace. I felt her tongue probe at the opening at the end of my penis, felt her tiny hand begin to gently massage my balls. I could feel my cock swelling as I watched her devouring it. Once again I had that sensation of surrealism.
Are you sure this isn't a dream?
"Don't be scared to suck harder," I said. "It'd take quite a bit for you to hurt me. Just be careful of the teeth." She enthusiastically began taking it in deeper, and I felt her gag a little bit. "Don't choke yourself, baby girl," I said, but she insisted on going deeper.
Shit
, I thought.
My teenage daughter is trying to deep throat my hard cock
. The thought made my head swim. I closed my eyes, savoring the sensation of her tongue working on my meat.
Oh, shit. Shi, shit, shit.
"Mmmmm. Suck your daddy's cock, sweet baby girl. Yesssss," I moaned.
My vision turned red as I felt my orgasm rushing toward me like the soft roll of distant thunder from an approaching thunderstorm. She continued, her head bobbing up and down, her tongue swirling…