To Have Love and Lost

[©2010 BY CLINTON09; ALL CHARACTERS OVER THE AGE OF 18 AND FICTITIOUS; THIS STORY HAS A 'HARDER EDGE' THAN MOST; BE WARNED: HERE BE DRAGONS; FOR AGES 21 OR ABOVE]

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Thanksgiving was almost over. As usual, my wife Beulah was finishing things in the kitchen, though her daughter and I had done all the leg work of clearing the table and prepping the dishes. She just liked the idea of 'her kitchen' as part of the Thanksgiving annual rites. As for me, football was MY rite. What was great about my baby daughter (baby? She had just turned 40) Angela was that she watched football with her dear old dad. As our only child, she had to be sort of a surrogate son and daughter. As a result, she actually KNEW football as opposed to just watching it. She also was a bit of a tomboy as she grew up, sensing that I had wanted a boy instead of her. Whatever she was like, I loved her more than life itself.

Whereas Beulah at 65 (six years my senior) could be dour, cold, even mean, Angela did not have a mean bone in her body. That cost her; her first husband committed every bad act a husband could do, from adultery to draining her personal assets. At the divorce court, so much came out that she was awarded all of the community assets. Of course, a worm like him had already squandered most of that. The worst part of that marriage was that Angela grew apprehensive of men and never had a permanent relationship again. Now, at 40, it broke my heart to see one of the sweetest, kindest, and (I might add) most beautiful women in the region go through life alone. Beulah, on the other hand, was completely indifferent to Angela's predicament; she implied that her suffering was richly deserved for her refusal to just settle for any man.

As my daughter left that night, I hugged her with my usual earnestness. The hug, with my wife safely upstairs, was as close to sex as either one of us had. I mean to say, we hugged with a fervent ardor; the embrace lasted almost two minutes, then a final kiss goodbye. As always, there was just the trace of a tear in her eye.

To be stone candid, I had married Beulah because she was the scion of a wealthy family and, as an only child, was scheduled to come into maybe $65 million. She was not the worst person that ever lived, but she certainly was in the top 40. More pernicious, she was 65 (to my 59) and she kept trying to draw me into her 'senior' world.

She set up doctor's appointments, shopping for doctors that would tell her she needed some expensive test or procedure. She tried the same on me. I went to her referred specialist who said I needed 'that' operation that men dread that would remove me from those that could have sex...all in the name of prevention. The operation was even set. Soon I WOULD be a senior citizen, looking forward to warm jello and visits from ungrateful relatives in some home. Well, the hell with that...

It was the Friday before the scheduled Tuesday operation. Beulah, my dear wife, surely the granddaughter of the wicked witch of the west, could not wait until they 'cut me up'. Then she could finally be sure I didn't wander or stray from her. Out of dedication to my marital vows, or simply greed about her coming inheritance, I truly had been faithful.

I told Beulah I was worried about the operation and needed a little time alone. I would be out of pocket for a couple of days, just thinking. To my astonishment, she just nodded and went back to the important work of responding to the bell on the Home Shopping Network.

Packing a weekend bag, I rolled on out to the Audi A6, threw it in the trunk, and zoomed out to the airport for 'a little time alone'; I didn't bother to tell her it was Angela's place. For one thing, I was going unannounced and didn't know what would happen there anyway.

Showing up at Angela's home, located on the side of a mountain just outside of Denver, I rang the bell. I was covered in the ever present snow. Angela let me in, as beautiful as ever, wearing a Frosty-the-snowman sweater. I put the roller bag against the wall and proceeded to hug my darling daughter like no father had a right to do.

I was away from the 'wicked witch of the west'. This was never the case during all my visits with Angela; I felt free enough to show her how I felt. I loved her so much that my kiss crossed from daddy to husband to lothario. I didn't care, and couldn't be dissuaded unless she stopped me. I fully expected a rebuff and a firm boot out the door. Instead, with that customary tear in her eye, my kiss was met with twice, thrice, perhaps ten times the force. All of those years without a man for my baby. All of those years without marital rites, for me. All of those holidays together, sitting so close, watching TV, but sharing something impalpable.

My very welcome assault continued. I had not planned any of this; it just happened. As she embraced me I slowly pushed her towards her bedroom. Once there, my hands worked feverishly to rip off that sweater, then the Denver Bronco t-shirt, the bra (but there was no bra!), those stretch cotton pants with elastic waistband, her thong bikini bottom, everything. I was so obsessed now that I didn't even notice that her hands were not idle but had unbuttoned or unzipped all of my clothes. I just had to shake them off. I did. I then took a few seconds to look at my baby.

Five foot six, a brunette with just the tiniest trace of gray, she still had the best damn figure in the state. At an early age she had inherited things from Beulah, among them a bra. But that bra burst; she was too big up top and ruined all of the hand-me-downs. My baby was 36-23-36 at her peak (when she married that little worm), but her vegan ways and three hour workouts kept her shape, that was clear.

My darling daughter was worthy of praise, even worship. Wary of men, she had not allowed them into her world after that 1st marriage. Well, I was allowed into her domain, and I WOULD worship her. As she stood there, magnificent, perfect, unappreciated, I got on my knees before her. I closed in to her private area, with an eagerness to give her pleasure. She started to moan, all those years...all those many years. Her surprisingly powerful hands gripped my bushy with black hair head. I worshipped her with serious attention to the entrance to her garden of delights.

Finally, she moaned so loudly I thought I had broken something. She just was so overdue for this attention. Frankly, I was proud of myself and stood up to collect my reward. Sure enough, she kissed me with a fervor I had never seen before. She then swung us around. Using that deceptive strength from her three hour workouts, she literally tossed her loving dad onto her bed. She clambered on board me, reaching back to put me inside of her. She looked up to the ceiling and gasped as my re-invigorated ten inch cock skewered her. My rough uncut cockhead was paying long overdue attention to her vaginal walls and the deepest recesses of her womanhood. As she looked down at me, she had something she just had to say:

Angela: "Daddy, it's been so long that I went off the pill seven years ago. Things were so quiet for my social life that I threw away my diaphragm five years ago and the 'day after' pill three years ago. I know you are having that 'old man's operation on Tuesday', but you never told me if you had a vasectomy. I won't go any farther until I know."

Wow, what a conundrum. We were having such a hot time, but now my baby told me she had no protection and wondered if I had that 'permanent' protection from a vasectomy. I felt like lying—to tell her I had. But this was my baby, the most precious person in the world. I could not; I would not lie to her.

Me: "I'm sorry, truly sorry baby, but I never had that operation. With Beulah, sex wasn't a daily, weekly, monthly, or even annual event. So I never bothered. I completely understand your wanting to stop. I just wanted you to know that I love you so very much, that even going this far was such a moment of joy for me."

In a deeper voice, a voice of command, my baby ordered me up off her bed. Well, I knew when I had been 'busted'. I jumped off, preparing to leave the room and her house. Angela took my exact place on that bed. She lifted her knees up, placing her small hands over that entry place to her womanhood.

Angela: "Daddy, you said you wanted to make me happy. Well, I want to make YOU happy. Come here and with this one act of love, make BOTH of us happy. In doing this, you will be re-affirming the fact that you are still a man, a REAL man, and not the senior citizen that mom wants you to be alongside of her."

Wow, this was an unexpected turn of events. Feeling that old joy of conquest, I flexed my archaic muscles, which somehow managed to bulge like the virile man of old. I mounted my darling daughter. Her thighs were sleek and slick from her bikini wax. She again gasped as I fed her my ten inch cock, slowly, inch by inch, inch by inch. Finally, I was in all the way, my cockhead playing tag with her cervix.

I pushed her slightly upwards towards the bedboard, forcing her shapely legs onto my broad shoulders. Her exquisite feet were on either side of my head. I kissed her slender right ankle which, to my surprise, had a darling little blue flower tattoo. Angela used her powerful muscles inside her to give me a stunning squeeze, announcing her participation would be as stimulating as mine.

I was not limber enough to go totally outside of her and then back in all of the way; my strokes had to be much shorter, but I made them with power and did it nonstop. As our long-frustrated, sex-starved, bodies went into motion you could hear the audible slap, slap as we hurled ourselves at the other with all of our might. My much younger, and stronger, baby daughter was getting the best of me, so I had to slow down. I finally looked at her from my perch above her; I told her I loved her so much, she again shed a tear or two.

Me: "Sweetheart, since you have no protection and I never had THAT operation (a vasectomy), I will pull out in a second or two, just to be safe."

Angela: "But daddy, don't you get it; I have always wanted a baby; YOU always wanted more children. This is a golden opportunity for all of that to be solved. Please daddy, my womb is so receptive, so very unprotected, so incredibly fertile, it just needs you, you and your precious sperm. Please daddy, fill me up with your seed and make me pregnant. At this time, at this moment, all I want in the world is to have a baby...to have YOUR baby!"

Me: [Mind you, I was moving at full speed throughout this discussion.] "I am sorry, sweetheart, but I don't know what society or your horrible mother would say. I just know that I wouldn't want to risk losing that trust fund money that I have suffered for 20 years to get my hands on. And most of that would go to you. So, after five more strokes, I'm pulling out..."

On the fourth 'inward' push, I felt the power of Angela's three mile a day jogging legs. Her ankles locked with a vise-like grip. Had she done this before, I might have had the self-control to stop, but it was too late. I lowered down and kissed her with unbelievable passion as my cockhead swelled. As the microscopic slit in that cockhead expanded to the size of a soda bottle cap, I proceeded to transfer all of the pent-up passion from my swollen testes into my baby's totally unprotected, fertile womb. With a manly grunt I began the first of ten lengthy gushes of cum, consisting of almost 100% pure sperm. Squirt after long frustrated squirt, splash after splash, it seemed to take days. Finally, the last few drops into a womb--itself now swollen with the vibrant, lively sperm that had swollen my balls. Now those sperm had their purpose in life, to seek out her blessed, sacred ovum. The heat of a sexual union does not dictate the viability of the seed or the impact of the two elements so joined; if it did, we might have just replicated a nuclear explosion.

I fell over totally spent, huffing and puffing, showing every bit of my 59 years. Also, I had forgotten where I was. Being a lowlander, I forgot that my baby lived a mile high. You don't always remember that, but after a jog or a session of nuclear sex, it is really communicated to you. I was dizzy and a bit short of breath. Angela asked if I was okay. I rose up from her bed, told her I was never better, and kissed my gorgeous child. I asked her if she was going to get up and 'clean herself out'.

Angela: "Oh, daddy, you are so silly. I will see you tomorrow morning." [At that point, her head hit the pillow and she acted as if she was out cold.]

I was not the most perceptive person that ever lived, but between the locked ankles and her welcoming my potent seed inside of her, I 'got the message'. As she slept, I bent over and kissed her tummy. Staring at that wonderful flat tummy and the entranceway to her sacred womanhood, I whispered:

Me: "I love you so much baby; I so much want you to have my baby. I pray that I got you pregnant, and that you will give birth." [I kissed her tummy again and went back up to the pillow. I was startled when Angela, without opening her eyes said:]

Angela: "I will; I love you and can't wait to give birth. Good night, daddy." About two hours after that, my wonderful daughter conceived.

The next day, I hugged my gorgeous daughter and left for home. Beulah was a resourceful woman; she had not been so casual about my trip after all. She was wondering why I had cancelled that operation, and why my ticket was to Denver.

Beulah stored up her anger and gave no evidence of her suspicions for a few weeks. That is, she did until Angela called me, ecstatic about her home pregnancy test. She really blew up when she overheard Angela and I on my cellphone. It was clear that she and I had had something more than a normal father/daughter re-union.

Beulah called our daughter and used language worthy of a sailor to cuss her out and demand that she abort that baby. She literally grabbed me by the ear and dragged me to the phone to second that opinion. I took the phone.

Me: "Angela, sweetheart, your mom's mind is made up; she's determined that you abort that baby. I just wanted you to know [I glared at Beulah who was glaring at me.] that you should go ahead and HAVE that baby. Nothing would be more fair, more beautiful, more just, than for you to grace this world with a child from your blessed womb. I will be out there to be with you for the last month; it doesn't matter to me what Beulah says or does at this point. Bye, honey."

I hung up, terrified of what was in store. No, she couldn't beat me up, but she COULD drop the hammer and say we were divorcing...no trust money for you! I had one chance and ONLY one chance. I would take a knight's move; no retreat, only bold attack!

Beulah: "So, I see that you are defiant; well, let me tell you something..."

Me: "Beulah, dear, I have put up with you for all of these years. In all of that time, I have kept quiet. Well, no more. I am going out next month to be with my baby. What is more, I am MOVING out to be with my baby. That allowance you give me every month for the household? You will double it and send it out to us in Colorado. If you don't, then Fox and CNN might want a nice story."

I guess I should have told you earlier; Beulah's family had a fortune, but Beulah wanted higher rates of return and had invested in companies in the third world that clearly exploited labor. Low wages, no air conditioning, no benefits, it was an ugly litany that would've made for weeks of cable news channel specials. Her house of cards fell when I pulled this trump card out.

I proceeded to pack. The airline's cargo department picked up my few things and had them on the same plane with me out to Denver's sparkling airport. I took the airport limo to my baby's house; I didn't want her driving in her eighth month. The airline delivered my stuff five minutes before I arrived. At the door was a pile of boxes and a perplexed daughter. Her confused frown turned into a beaming smile when she saw her 'white knight' arrive. My slightly round very pregnant daughter hugged me with a desperation and joy that made everything to this point absolutely worth it. We stored my stuff in her garage for now. I filled her in.

Me: "So that's everything. I had to go to the 'nuclear option' on your mother, but she was so spiteful, so determined to exterminate the life in you, the life that she could no longer have herself. I just had to come out here, to protect our baby, and to protect MY baby, you sweetheart." [I kissed her.]

Angela: "Daddy, you are welcome here today, tomorrow, and forever. I have been so lonely, especially in these Colorado winters. So long, I dreamt of someone saving me, someone like you." [We hugged again. She could see I was exhausted. She set up her guest room for me. I settled in, totally drained from the big move day. I was on the bed with lights out in minutes.]

I would never ever forget it. About thirty minutes after lights out, I was still up, too excited about my new life to sleep. I heard someone walking in the dark, obviously used to her own home. Then I felt a tugging on the sheets, till they fell to the floor. Then someone climbing on board me, but it wasn't the usual feeling. For one thing, the person gingerly climbing aboard me was gigantic. Second, instead of the hard breathing and hot breath of someone right above me, I felt only the push of two soft, tender, perfect feet, as that person (Angela, of course.) was on top of me, facing away. To be frank, the specter of making love to a woman so very pregnant was not a dream of mine.

Still silent, she backed up towards me, then reached behind her and put me inside of her. It was an odd feeling, but she moaned in pleasure. That alone was enough to merit me just being her sextoy. I lay there quietly, allowing my precious baby to do her thing. She gingerly backed up, moved forward, and backed up. After about a dozen of these moves, she shrieked out the biggest orgasm in history. She sat still for about two minutes, and then she swung off me. Angela bent over the bed, giving me a passionate French kiss.

Angela: "Thank you, daddy, I needed that so much. Good night."

Every night we went thru the same little drama. Each night, her pleasure seemed to rise higher and higher. Every time she thanked me profusely, promising me she'd do something for me. For two weeks, I asked nothing in return and she did nothing; just hearing her orgasm was all the repayment I wanted.

About a week before the scheduled birth date, we were stunned to hear a knock at the door at 8pm. It was Beulah!! I let her in, of course.

Beulah: "I came out here in a last desperate effort to bring you two to your senses. In this current arrangement, you two are vile, despicable; your bastard child will be reviled, rejected. Your only hope at redemption is to abort this devil child, even at this late stage. I found someone who would do it; they aren't doctors, but when you are desperate... So what is your answer to me? Will you two break off this repugnant affair and beg for understanding from me, or must I curse and reject you?"

Angela was on the couch next to me. She pulled me to my feet and then turned me towards her. She opened me up and pulled out my soft six inch love log. She glared at Beulah as she keyholed me to erection. Beulah was appalled to see this graphic display of defiance. Angela finally turned away from her mother and looked up at me in submissive admiration. She mouthed my big cock, moving faster and faster until she was only a blur. Finally, I looked up at the ceiling and moaned in orgasm. My cockhead swelled, and then fired off a huge splash into her waiting mouth. With a noisy gulp, she swallowed. Another huge spend was sent, and she swallowed all of that too. Finally, overload. The last gusher, a titanic wash of cum teeming with potent seed, was propelled into her waiting mouth. I would always remember the scene. She looked at Beulah, closed her eyes, and let a huge, slow, thick waterfall of froth come out of the entire width of her mouth. It was just like in those old porn films except this was real, with no hidden capsules to 'help out' the effect. No, this was all my doing; I felt so proud. Beulah was aghast and ran up to me, slapping me as hard as she could. She turned to Angela, but before she could strike my eight months pregnant daughter, she fainted.