(This is my effort here on Literotica, though I have been writing for many years. If you find the content offensive, please do not read. I'd really like feed back, good and bad as this will determine, weather or not, I will continue the story)
I was tired. 'Dog-tired', as the saying goes. The warm water coursed down my body soothing away some of the aches and pains of a thirteen hour flight from Sydney. Twenty-six hours of flying for a 3 hour meeting, 3 hours of waiting at the airport for my return flight, and two hours of traffic on the 405 back to my home in Huntington Beach. At the moment, I was feeling every one of my 42 years old.
I finished my shower and toweled off. Looking at my watch I saw that it was just past 9:00 o'clock. Was it a.m. or p.m.? My head was too foggy to know from the time change and travel. Wiping the steam from the mirror I looked at my reflection. Wearily I shaved and brushed my teeth thinking all the time about how good my bed was going to feel when I finally dropped myself into it. For 42 I was still in pretty decent shape. Granted I didn't have the lean toned body I once had but I was in better shape physically than many men my age.
Setting my tooth-brush back on the counter I picked up the silver framed photo sitting nearby. My wife of 17 years, Amanda, looked back at me smiling, her arms wrapped around our daughter, Mandy on her 13th birthday. Both were giggling. I had taken the photo that day years ago and had never been happier. I thought it would last forever. Forever turned out to be just hours. The photo was the last I had of Amanda.
Two days after Mandy's birthday her mother collapsed in our kitchen having suffered a massive stroke. It had happened about 10:00 o'clock in the morning while Mandy was at school and I was at work. When my daughter called me at 3:30 saying that she hadn't been picked-up, and her Mom wasn't answering the phone, I knew there was something wrong. Something was so very wrong. She was only 36 when she had died. I felt guilt when this happened. I still felt it all these years later though the doctors told me had I been there, the moment it happened, and gotten her to the hospital with haste, there still would have been nothing they could have done to save her.
That first year had been hard. I didn't know how to handle or deal with a teenaged girl. I admit freely I wasn't a very good father during that period either. I worked many hours and I was angry. At 36 I was a widower and a single father to a budding teenaged girl. We battled! Oh lord how we battled that first year. It was hard on us both but eventually we had called a quiet truce. And over the last few years we'd become more than just father and daughter. We'd become friends. I taught her to golf, she taught me to be cool, or so she thought. Hell, I'd always been cool. She just didn't know it.
As of late though, she seemed to change. Her demeanor was different on a day to day basis. I assumed it was just the adjustment from high school to college. The stress of growing up.
I wrapped a towel around my waist and walked into my bedroom. I was surprised to find Mandy sitting there looking at me crossed legged on the bed, looking so very much like her Mother. In fact, my wife used to sit the same way waiting for me to finish my shower after a business trip in a faded UCLA Bruins T-shirt.
I felt a yearning deep in my soul and it made my heart ache again like it hadn't ached for some time now.
At 5'2", and roughly 125 lbs, Mandy was an exact replica of her mother at that same age when she and I first met. We were both in our 1st year at UCLA at the time and my mind flashed back to that very first meeting....
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It was a Saturday night in November of 1984. The Bruins had just defeated cross town rival USC. USC had already clinched the PAC-10 title and was going to the Rose Bowl. It made the win that much sweeter for our school. It was the 3rd year in a row we had beaten the mighty Trojans!
I was eighteen and pretty drunk when I bumped into a tiny wisp of girl with blonde curls cascading well past her shoulders. I spilled half of my beer right down the front of her Bruins t-shirt.
"You fucking idiot this is a brand new shirt," she screamed at me over Duran Duran's 'Hungry like the Wolf.'
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Looking back now I have to laugh. It was a rather inauspicious first meeting with the woman who would become my wife a year later the mother to my only child 5 years later and the only woman I had ever been to bed with.
I was a virgin as was Amanda when we met. In the six years she'd been gone I hadn't wanted or even considered taking another woman to bed.
"Hi Daddy," Mandy said with a sigh. Her breasts heaved slightly and were accentuated by the same faded UCLA Bruins T-shirt that I had spilled beer on when I was a freshman in college. That T-shirt brought back many memories of her mother. She'd worn it on our first date. It was the first shirt I had taken off Amanda to reveal her beautiful breasts. She'd worn that shirt and nothing else the whole next day as we made love again and again in my apartment.
Mandy's tanned legs and smooth round thighs stuck out from under her short skirt. Sitting like she was a substantial amount of her skin was visible to me and I felt a stirring in my groin that I was knew was wrong. Her thick blonde hair fell in curls around her shoulders.
She looked so much like her mother.
In the past couple of months I had been noticing more and more how much like her mother she really was. How she walked... talked... flipped her hair out her eyes... chewed on her bottom lip when she was feeling pensive about something. All reminded me so much of my dear Amanda.
"Hi baby," I said, sitting on the edge of my bed. "Is there something wrong?"
She turned her face away and drew a deep breath. Her breasts were impossible to ignore in the faded paper-thin baby blue t-shirt with the Gold nearly impossible now to see UCLA letters stretched across them. Of late, she'd taken to wearing the shirt on what seemed a daily basis. I never asked her how she got her hands on it or where she had even found.
When she faced me, I could see tears in her eyes.
"What is it honey? Talk to Daddy."
After what seemed an eternity of silence she spoke. Even her voice sounded like her mother and my heartache.
"It's been six years Daddy," she began poignantly her voice soft. "Six years today," she paused, and then continued in a more rushed voice, "I just miss her so much. There are so many things I feel like I have missed out on not having a mother. So many things she hadn't taught me that I need to learn."
"Hey," I said, with a slight laugh trying to bring a smile to my beautiful daughters face, "what? Your old man is chopped liver? Haven't I taught you some good things?"
I knew full well what today's date was and I had tried to put it out of my mind. Losing the love of your life is not something you get over. It is something you learn to live with. After six years I still had a hard time trying to live without my wife.
"Oh daddy, I'm sorry. I didn't mean it to sound like you haven't been there. You have. You are the best Dad ever. But teaching me how to hit out of a sand trap isn't exactly what I meant." She tried not to smile as she said that last bit but did in spite of herself.
Her smile faded as quickly as it had come. She looked at me very intently her eyes boring into mine. Her mother's eyes.
"Daddy?" she began, "Was Mom a good lover?"
I have to admit I was a little surprised by the question but I answered without hesitation.
"Yes, honey she was."
