- [ I g r R L ] -
http://www.incesttaboo.com/incestgrrl

[Story Name] Always daddy's girl
[Author] Provo
[Type] Father/daughter


"Any man who says, 'I love her like a daughter' never had a
daughter."
          -Unknown

      Chapter 1 -- The Gathering Storm


The voice on the other end of the telephone scraped my nerves
like fingernails on a blackboard.  "I don't give a GODDAMN what
plans you've made!  She's your daughter and you WILL take her!
She's boarding that plane in five minutes, so BE THERE when she
lands!"

I choked, trying to keep my voice calm, "But, Bess, I've got a
very important..."  My voice trailed off as I realized I was
talking to a dial tone.  I was past anger, past fury; I wanted to
smash my ex-wife's head to a bloody pulp not for my own outrage,
but for the good of all life on the planet.  I forced myself to
gently replace the telephone handset.  She had screwed me again.
How did she manage it?  Why did I let her get away with it?  God,
I got screwed by her more since the divorce than during the five
years of our marriage.

First, she got custody of Jeannie, our four-year-old daughter, I
got one day a month visitation; she got the house, I got the
mortgage payments; she got the bank account so that she could
provide for our daughter; I lost the technical-writing business I
spent six years building.  To top it, my once-monthly visits were
often "postponed" or "forgotten" when my wife felt that I hadn't
groveled enough.  Finally, two years after the divorce, during a
particularly ugly confrontation with her current boyfriend on a
visitation weekend, Bess looked me straight in the eye and told
me that if I darkened her door again, she would report that I had
molested Jenny during visitation.

I talked to my lawyer (a nice guy, even when my money ran out)
and he said there wasn't much I could do without a warchest of
cash.  In our state even a whisper of child abuse was enough to
buy me a trip to the Greybar hotel, until I could prove that I
was innocent.  I gave up, moved to the west coast and started
over, writing anything to keep myself alive and make child sup-
port payments.    Hack SF, true romance, soft porn, lonely-hearts
advice columns, you name it.  After a couple of years I started
free-lancing some advertising copy work for a local agency.  It
was steady money, and I moved into an house without cockroach
roommates.  My lawyer met my wife's lawyer over racketball at the
club and I started flying back to visit my daughter on her birth-
days.  Some women came and went in my life, but after Bess I
couldn't trust any of them.

All this time I wrote my daughter regularly.  When I had enough
money that so that I didn't have to dodge the landlord, I'd send
her small gifts every couple of weeks.    There was usually one
good reason a month to send a card or trinket to my special girl
and if there wasn't, I'd invent one.  She wrote back.  At first
her letters were in crayon, with kindergarten pictures of stick-
people, and thank-you notes for each gift.  Her artwork covered
one wall of the spare bedroom that I used as a home office.  As
she grew her letters became more literate.  Her favorite gifts
were books and I sent her the ones I had enjoyed as a child:
"Alice in Wonderland", "Jungle Book", "The Hobbit", "Treasure
Island".  She rarely mentioned her mother in her letters or
during our once-yearly meetings; I never encouraged resentment
towards Bess.  But on her tenth birthday, Bess and I fought
again, Bess barred me from further visits, and Jeannie's letters
closed, "Please come visit me, daddy, or let me visit you.  I
know you love me, but I get REAL LONELY."

As years went by, my financial situation improved.  I made a
couple of smart (lucky) investments, and began to do major ac-
counts work for the ad agency.      The agency was contracted to do
some mud-slinging ads for the 1982 governor's race and bitterness
seemed easy to write.  The incumbent stayed in office, but the
state party was impressed by how my ads had withered his support
among undecided voters.  I was introduced to some movers-and-
shakers in state politics and asked by the state's party secre-
tary to do some speech-writing for some junior members of the
state house.  The speeches went over well and sound bites wound
up on the CBS Evening News.  I was caught up in the machinery of
state politics.  I felt ambivalent about my work.  It was fun to
be an 'insider,' but the more I wrote, the weaker became my own
political views.  I had become a student of Machiavelli.  Poli-
tics became an drug that deadened my ethical nerve endings.

One day, early in the summer of 1986, I got a call from Washing-
ton, D.C., from the congresswoman of a nearby district.  "We've
heard your work, John, and we like it very much."  I gave the
usual thanks and asked what I could do for her.  "The polls are
showing that Senator B__ has lost a lot of public confidence with
the news that his company has been dumping toxic waste.  The
party thinks this may be the time to for an all-out effort to
unseat him.  I think it's time for me to try it.  The national
committee suggested I talk to you about some speeches.      You know,
really slam him to the sidewalk and see how high he bounces."

I was flabbergasted.  This was a jump from the state to the
national scene.  Senatorial races are very profitable for the
right people.  A *major* jump in income and prestige.  Book and
consulting contracts, even an ambassadorship cha-chaed in my
brain pan.  "I am *very* interested in pursuing this," I said,
"When can we meet?"  We set up a get-acquainted dinner with her
staff the next Wednesday evening.  I gulped when I heard the name
of the restaurant, but she chuckled and spoke those magic words:
"It's paid out of campaign funds."  It was about to rain soup and
all I needed was to bring a bowl.  A big bowl.

It was that Wednesday morning, as I was about to leave to pick up
my best suit from the cleaners, that I got the call from my ex-
wife.

"Jonny, I've got this *wonderful* opportunity to go to Barcelona,
so you'll have to take Jeannie."  Better and better news, I
thought, I hadn't seen my daughter in four years.

"Sure.  When and for how long?"

"I don't know how long, Carlos didn't say."  Great, I thought,
another jerk.  God knows how these creeps have affected my daugh-
ter.  Well, Bess always wanted to visit Europe.  I couldn't have
afforded it.  If she wanted to travel there on her back, that was
none of my business.  "The summer, surely, a year, maybe.
Jeannie's flight is today at noon."

"A year?  That's impossible, I'm afraid.  And today is no go, I
have an important dinner tonight..."

Her voice picked up a nasty edge.  "You can meet your bimbos some
other time.  Your daughter needs you.  We're at the airport now."

Well, that took a lot of gall, calling me at the last minute.  I
kept my voice calm and tried to be reasonable. "Look, Bess, I'll
pay the difference in the ticket costs for the delay.  Just put
her on tomorrow's flight."

"You don't understand.  We're *all* at the airport.  Carlos's and
my plane for Barcelona takes off an hour after her's.  You've
always whined that you wanted more time with her.  She'll land
there in three hours.  Be there to pick her up."

"But I've made plans!  It's too late to cancel them!"  And that's
where the conversation went to screams.  Barcelona.  She waited
until the very last second before telling me anything.      How could
she have known I would cave in?  She knew.  I knew.  I always
caved in.  Shit.

After hanging up I called the congresswoman's Washington office.
"I'm sorry," the clerk's voice trilled with unfelt sympathy,
"She's on a flight back to her home district and is unavailable."
Well that killed that.  No way to cancel or postpone the dinner.
I had better pick up my suit.

I drove to the cleaners, then got on the freeway to the airport,
driving on autopilot, thinking, planning.  God, I didn't have any
clue about how to raise a young girl.  She would be approaching
womanhood and would have all kinds of questions and problems for
which I had no answers and no relatives to ask advice. What had
living with my ex-wife and her endless succession of boyfriends
done to her psyche?  Where could she stay?  I had a small two-
bedroom cottage, but one bedroom I had converted into an
office/library.  I would rough it on the couch that night, I
decided, and figure out something else tomorrow.

At the airport I parked, ignored the shuttle bus and walked to
the terminal.  Oddly, I felt better and better the closer the
time came.  Planning the arrangements, I remembered another
bedroom for Jeannie.  I remembered how much fun I had fixing up
the nursery for her when Bess was pregnant.  The day seemed
brighter and my steps lighter.      Things were turning out for the
best.  Jeannie was no stranger; we had exchanged letters and
confidences for six years.  In nearly every letter I had promised
that some day we would spend a lot of time together.  That day
had just come a little abruptly.  By the time I arrived at the
terminal, I was eager for her flight to be announced.

So of course the flight was delayed.  As time passed, I realized
that I had only a vague idea of what Jeannie looked like.  I
opened my wallet and looked at the picture I carried of her tenth
birthday party, the last one we spent together.  Green eyes, red
mop of hair.  She was twelve now and kids grow so fast.  She must
have changed--but how?

At last the video display showed her flight had landed and a
crush of people stormed past the security gate.  I didn't recog-
nize any of them.  Then, trailing uncertainly a little behind,
was a young, red-headed, stick-figure of a girl in blue jeans and
a fisherman's bulky knit sweater.  "Jeannie!  Hey, good-looking!"

"Daddy?"  She started to run, but caught herself and walked with
all the dignity a 12-year old can muster.  "Daddy!"  We hugged,
and if I have any concept of heaven, it was there in that hug.
Her eyes shone with relief and joy.

After all the rage, all the anxiety, all that was left was the
humble truth.  "I'm so happy you are here,"  I told her.  She had
the greenest eyes with impossibly long lashes and dimples when
she smiled.  I could get lost in those eyes.  "C'mon, let's go
get your bags."

She bubbled over with stories about the flight, about her mother,
and Carlos, the latest boyfriend.  I listed with only half an ear
as I watched for her bags, matched the numbers of the tag halves,
and loaded them onto one of those rental carts.  I didn't seem as
though she could have packed enough clothes in those bags for
more that an overnight stay.  "Jeannie, pardon me for interrupt-
ing, but do you have a nice dress in your bags?"

"Well, I've got a dress for emergencies," she admitted, "but it's
not *nice*.  It's last year's and it's a little small."

"Then I guess our first stop is a dress store.  We've got a big
dinner engagement tonight."  Jeannie was excited both at the
prospect of shopping for a new dress and at the idea of a grown-
up dinner party.  When I told her that it was going to be mostly
boring business, she became even more intrigued.  I think she
wanted a glimpse of how adults acted.  Jeannie, like all kids
that age, was in a big hurry to grow up.

At the store, Jeannie tried on dress after dress.  I waited
patiently as she paraded out in dresses that were too short, too
long, too little-girlish, and too mature.  Finally she came out
in an off-the-shoulder green velvet gown that set off her green
eyes.  She was a stunner and not quite the stick figure that I
had thought at first.  I could see that soon she would fighting
off the boys with a stick.  "That dress, sweetheart?  That dress
makes you look 12 going on 29."  She looked down and blushed, the
color spreading from her shoulders to her neck and face.  She
raised her face and her eyes met mine, pleading without words.    I
felt my heart leap and my insides get all twisted up.  "OK,
sweetheart, it's yours."

We stopped at the house just long enough to drop her bags and
change clothes.  We arrived at the restaurant with bare minutes
to spare.  As we walked up the steps to the restaurant Jeannie
seemed a little hesitant.  I squeezed her arm and said, "Buck up!
Remember, no matter how old and rich they may be, you're younger
and prettier!"  She rewarded me with those dimples, lifted her
chin and walked in on my arm like British royalty.

Dinner was a resounding success.  The congresswoman was charmed
that I had brought my daughter.  Jeannie said little, but her
bright eyes tracked every move and verbal sally.  When asked
questions, she replied with a wit and charm that belied her 12
years.      As we stood to leave, the congresswoman's chief-of-staff
smiled and said that if she was interested, he would encourage
her to look into the congressional page program.  She smiled and
thanked him, but said that she had just arrived in town and it
was a little soon to be thinking of leaving.  He turned to me and
said that he would be back in town next week to introduce me to
the consulting firm that was going to handle the campaign.

Jeannie and I swept into the cottage in a euphoric rush.  I was
on top of the world.  I scooped her up in my arms and impulsively
kissed her.  Her eyes shone.  "We did it," she said, "We showed
those Washington bigwigs that Lewistons rule!"  She pulled me
close and kissed me full on the lips.  I felt as though my heart
would burst with joy.  Here was one of the greatest nights of my
life and instead of coming home alone, I could share it with the
one person in the whole world who really loved me.

As we stood there, in each other's arms I realized that the
glowing, fluttery sensation in my stomach had moved lower.  I
was, in fact, having an erection.  God!  What was wrong with me?
This was my daughter, my own flesh and blood!  I push away from
her awkwardly.    Turning to hide the shameful state of my body.
"Uh, I've got to use the bathroom.  I'll be back in a minute."

I dodged into the bathroom and locked the door leaving Jeannie
standing there looking puzzled.  I took a couple of deep breaths
and tried to calmed down.  I turned on the cold water tap and
splashed my face.  Get a grip. You're just excited, just getting
a little carried away by the moment.  Breath in; breath out.
Better.  I flushed the toilet, turned off the tap, dried my face
and hands and opened the door.

As I reentered the living room, Jeannie was making the couch into
a bed. "That's very thoughtful, Sweetheart.  Thank you.  But I
need my firm pillow or I'll get a crick in my neck."

She came over to me and put her arms around my waist and her head
on my shoulder.  "I know what you said earlier, Daddy, but I
couldn't take away your bed.  I'll sleep out here.  I really
don't mind.  I sleep like a log."

"Well, if you're sure you don't mind?"  She nodded.  "Well, I'm
bushed."  I untangled myself from her arms and stepped back.
"I'm going to turn in."  She looked a little crestfallen, as
though she wanted to celebrate all night long. "Hey, Sweetheart,
you probably have jet-lag and we've got the all the time in the
world. I'm looking forward to spending a lot of time getting to
know you."  She rewarded me again with those dimples, nodded and
was caught unawares by a yawn.

"I guess you're right.  Today was busy with the flight and the
dinner.  I'll see you tomorrow.  Good night."

I went to my room, undressed, and fell asleep. But my sleep was
full of dreams of Jeannie.

--Jeannie as a naked little girl in the bathtub.  Jeannie in the
  green dress that matched her eyes and the dress became
  iridescent green scales and she was a mermaid and her breasts
  were cold and her eyes sea-green and her hair drifting and
  coiling around her pale blue face and she was slippery in my
  arms and her nipples gouged my chest and her mouth was full
  of sharp little teeth and she bit my shoulders and belly and
  took my small, flaccid cock into her mouth and laughed.-----

  Chapter 2 -- Venus Revealed

I woke with a start.  All my dreams came back in a rush and my
face grew hot. I looked at the clock. 6:03 am.  My cock was as
stiff as a rod and made a tent of my bedclothes.  My testicles
felt as if I had been bronco busting all night.  I couldn't go
out to meet my daughter like this!  I decided that if I mastur-
bated, I would better be able to control my body the rest of the
morning.  I opened my bedroom door a crack to see if Jeannie was
awake. There was no sound from the rest of the house. I stepped
out into the hall--still no sound.

As I rounded the corner into the living room, I saw Jeannie
sprawled on the couch, stone asleep, finger in her mouth, her
blankets all twisted up.  Poor kid on a hard, lumpy couch in a
strange place. Why had I let her talk me into letting her sleep
out here?  I tugged on a corner of the blanket to straighten it
out and it slipped to the floor.  Her nightie had twisted up to
her waist and one of her knees was raised against the couch back,
exposing her genitals. I stood frozen for a moment as my flag-
ging erection rehardened.  I was hypnotized by what I saw.  I
knelt and shook her shoulder gently.  "Jeannie, Jeannie, honey.
Are you asleep?"  Her breathing stayed slow and steady.  I could
see her pulse in her neck.  I placed my hand over her heart and
felt the steady lub-dub, lub-dub of her life.  My hand felt the
thinness of the cotton, the smoothness of her skin and the point
of her nipple.

I felt a terrible sense of wrongness, mixed with a powerful
attraction.  I had never seen a woman so young, so vulnerable. I
would never see this again.  Trembling, I leaned forward and
brushed her cheek with my lips.  Her skin was as soft as an
infant's.  There was a soft down on her neck.  She smelled,
salty, slightly spicy, like the breeze blown from some exotic
oriental bazaar.  I rocked back on my heels and looked at the
wrinkled inner lips of her genitals.  No pubic hair camouflaged
their beauty.  I looked up and saw the golden down on the swell
of her belly.  I looked at my own belly and realized that I had
better get back to my room and do what I had intended; my pajama
bottoms were getting soaked by my leaky cock.

I tucked the blankets around her and tiptoed to my room.  Drop-
ping my pajama bottoms, I picked up a bottle of hand lotion.  I
lay back on my bed, closed my eyes and let images come unbidden
to mind.  Bess...Jeannie's mother...the best sex in my life was
with her...Bess was a harpy, but her ass was to die for...Bess's
hazel eyes...Jeannie's eyes...Jeannie's legs akimbo...Jeannie's
little girl cunt, soft and shriveled...my hot cock parting the
soft lips and burying itself in her flesh...her scream of pleas-
ure...my moans...

After five minutes of delicious delay, my heart thudded in my
chest, my belly and thighs tensed, and I came as I have rarely
come, soaking my pajama tops to match my bottoms.  As I spun back
down to earth I suddenly wondered; had I really moaned or was
that just in my imagination?  I held my breath, listening.  No
sound.      The apartment was a quiet as before.  I pulled the bed-
clothes over me and dozed off.

When I woke I heard the shower running.  I looked at the clock.
7:21 am.  I swung my legs over the side of the bed and feet
landed right on my cold, damp pajama bottoms.  A shiver ran up my
spine and I hurriedly pulled off my tops.  I gathered them up and
stuffed them under the bed blankets.  Got to remember to do the
laundry today. I threw on some sweat pants and a shirt and went
out to face the day.

I made coffee first.  As I turned on the cold water to fill the
carafe, I heard a screech from the shower.  "Sorry!" I yelled.  I
was going to have to get used to living with someone again.
While the coffee dripped, I sat on the couch (now with its bed-
clothes put away, returned to its daytime function) and watched
the morning news shows.  Senator B was denying he had any knowl-
edge of what his company was doing, which made him look less
venial but more stupid.  I made a few mental notes, catching the
his characteristic phrasing, the better to mock it.

I heard, in the back of my mind, the shower stop and the bathroom
door open.  "'Morning!" I said as I turned to greet my daughter.
I froze.  Jeannie stood there, drying herself off, naked as the
day she was born.  Her body was only sporadically hidden as she
chafed her skin with the towel.  The figure that I has guessed at
in the green dress was now displayed.  Her slim waist swelled
just slightly at her hips.  Her breasts were just a swelling of
her nipples, beaded with water, now erect from the cool morning
air.

"Wow, did that shower feel good!  I could eat a dozen pancakes!
Do have any pancake mix?  I could make some from scratch.  What's
wrong?"

"N-nothing, sweetheart.  I'm just a little slow before I get my
c-coffee."

She rummaged through her bags and pulled on an oversized sweat-
shirt that hung halfway to her knees.  "There!  Now we match.
Let's get breakfast."


Chapter 3 -- Dreams Revealed

The next few days I managed to shove aside my indecent thoughts
and Jeannie and became like old friends meeting for the first
time.  It felt like that old legend about ancient souls that meet
again and again in successive lives.  We went to a Chinese res-
taurant for lunch and Jeannie ordered for both of us.  "How did
you know that I loved General Tso's chicken?" I asked.

"You told me in a letter last year."

We stopped for ice cream cones I ordered her Mighty Mocha.

"How did you know?" she asked.

"You've been a chocoholic since you were a baby."  And so it
went.  I watched Jeannie closely when she talked.  I could see
Bess in the way she tossed her head, the way she used her hands
when she spoke.  I could see me in the shape of her brow and the
line of her jaw.  I felt an attraction, like cables wrapped
around my heart, squeezing it, pulling me towards her. She had
always been in the background of my day-to-day life, but now she
was the Sun and I had just discovered the Copernican system.

One afternoon, a week later, we went to the zoo.  Jeannie had
found the sexual antics of the lemurs hilarious.  As we ambled
down a quiet path, I thought it a good time to broach a delicate
subject.

"Ah--Jen, what do you know about boys?  I mean, about boys and
girls...together?"  I felt so awkward!

"You mean like having babies?  They showed us some films in the
health class at school--stupid stuff, really.  Films that were
made 15 years ago with people wearing the silliest clothes.
Another one on giving birth--yech!  And there was a class on
girls having monthlies.  Don't worry, Daddy, you won't have to
explain *that*."

Whew.  One worry down.  12 million to go.  "Well, yes, that.  But
what about your mom?  Did she ever have a talk with you?"

Jeannie stopped, glanced up and down the path to ensure we were
alone, then fixed me with her eyes.  "Now Daddy, I'm going to
tell you a secret.  A big secret.  And you have to promise me
that you won't get upset and make a scene."  I hastily agreed,
but she kept those green jewels fixed on me until I promised
solemnly that I would keep my cool.

"Mom tried several times to talk to me.  But I figure that anyone
who goes through as many men as she does doesn't have much to say
to *anyone* about how to have a permanent relationship."

That's my girl, I thought.  Why did she think that would upset
me?

"Now as far as how people do it (and don't get upset--remember,
you promised) it was easy to peek and watch her and her boy-
friends."

"Jeannie!"  I blurted.  In a crisis, my mouth pushes my brain
aside and takes over.  "What kind of thing is that for a..."

"Daddy!" she cried, "You promised!"  Her eyes were full of hurt.

I stopped, bit back what I was going to say, and mentally kicked
myself.  The poor kid grows up with a mom that screws like a mink
and I blame her for being curious.  "You're right, Honey.  I just
reacted without thinking."  I paused as a group of small kids
came tearing down the path and disappeared around the bend.  "Go
ahead. I promise I won't make a scene."

But Jeannie would not continue, but started walking and said that
she would wait "'til later."

That evening, as we drove home, I tried to thaw the chill between
us and asked Jeannie if she wanted to pick up a videotape.
"Daddy, we've only spent seven days together and you want to
stare at some old movie?  Besides, we still have to finish our
talk about Mom."

When we got home, neither of us were very hungry, so I suggested
cold cuts and veggies. As I chopped some vegetables, Jeannie
flipped through my tape collection.  I heard her load the deck
and then the frosty, cerebral sounds of the Modern Jazz Quartet
floated into the kitchen.  I brought the tray into the living
room and sat by Jeannie on the couch.  "I've got all the MJQ
albums, so no points for surprise.  But thanks, that's just what
I wanted to hear right now."  She smiled with her mouth, but it
never reached her eyes.  "Can we finish our talk?"

Jeannie picked up a celery stick, dipped it into the yogurt and
regarded it thoughtfully.  "What's to say?  I woke up one night
and was scared by the noise of people fighting.  I snuck down the
hall and peeked in her bedroom.  Gunter was her boyfriend then.
Gunter was on top of her.  I thought that he was beating her up,
so I hid in my closet 'till I fell asleep.

"The next morning Mom found me there and asked me what happened.
I told her how I was scared and she laughed.  She told me that
what I saw was what grown-ups do for fun.  I thought that was the
biggest lie I had ever heard.  So I waited, and the next time I
heard the grunting I snuck down the hall again and peeked in the
door.  This time Mom was on top bouncing up and down with a big
smile on her face so I could see that she wasn't being hurt.  I
went back to bed and cried until I went to sleep."

"Why did you cry?" I asked.

"I don't know.  I just did.  I cried six months later when Gunter
left for good, though I really didn't like him at all.  I just
crawled into my bed and cried."  My heart ached for that little
girl, alone in her bed.  She dropped the celery into the dip and
her voice grew small.  "That's when I started having the night-
mares."

"What nightmares, Honey?"

"They're all different and all the same.  I'm walking down the
hall in our house, Mom's house, I mean, and I'm trying to find
the front door because I know that if I find it and open it,
you'll be there to take me with you and the sun will shine.  But
in the house it's night and I can hear Mom and her boyfriend
grunting and moaning.  I can't tell which door is the front door
and I'm afraid to open any of the doors until I'm sure.  Because
if open the wrong one, it might be the door Mom is behind."

"But what's so scary about Mom?" I mentally gritted my teeth.
"She loves you, you know."

"Oh, I know she does.  As much as she can."  Her voice got even
smaller and she watched her hands twisting like wounded animals
in her lap.  "What scares me is that I know that I liked to watch
them.  I got excited.  I would pull down my panties and touch
myself, you know, down there."

"Baby!  Don't let that plague you.  *Everybody* 'touches them-
selves'."

She spoke to me as if I were a slow child.  "If I said, 'It's OK
for me to smoke, everybody does it.'" Would that make it OK?"

I sighed, "You're right, but it's not just that, Sweet.  Touching
yourself is just a part of finding out about yourself. I doesn't
hurt you, it doesn't hurt *anyone*, and it's nobody's damn busi-
ness but your own."

She looked up at me and her emerald eyes brimmed with tears.
"Daddy, the reason that I don't like it, is that I *hate* Gunter
and Rob and Bill and Carlos and all of them! I don't want to
think about them when I touch myself, I want to think of you!
But you were gone so long and I didn't know if you really meant
what you said in your letters but I kept rereading them and
hoping and then in the airport Mom was yelling on the phone and I
thought that you really didn't want me and that maybe I did
something awful when I was little that I can't remember and if I
did I'm SORRY Daddy, I'm *sorry* and I promise I'll be good and
I'll never do it again if you'll just tell me what it was..."

She broke down in big wracking sobs.  I slid next to her on the
couch and took her in my arms.      She put her head against my chest
and let the tears pour.  I rocked back and forth crooning, "You
didn't do anything, wrong baby, you're just perfect.  I love you,
Jeannie.  Daddy loves you.  It's OK to cry, baby, Daddy's here."
For five or six minutes I rocked and crooned while her sobs
turned into gulping gasps for air and finally into quiet, regular
breathing.  She looked up at me again and both our eyes were
swimming in tears.

"Do you think I'm awful and hate me now, Daddy?"

"I think that you are the most wonderful person in the world,
Jeannie.  You have completely stolen my heart."

"Do you really, *really*, love me Daddy?"

"Really-o, truly-o Jeannie.  More than I know how to tell you."

She reached up and grabbed my head, pulling my face down to hers.
Her lips met mine and every scrap of good sense I owned went on
vacation to Bermuda.  Her lips were so soft, so sweet!      My ears
roared.  I pressed my tongue gently against those lips.  She
parted them and I tasted her mouth.  Choirs sang, angels wept.

We kissed for several minutes, my arms around her, my hand strok-
ing her thigh, slipping up under her blouse.  We broke for air
and a much belated warning bell began clanging in my head.  I
looked down in confusion, took her hands from around my neck and
moved away from her on the couch.  She grabbed my chin looked me
in the eye.  "Daddy, I don't want this to stop."

I gulped.  I tried to think.  Her face seemed surrounded by a
golden nimbus.    "But Baby, this isn't *right*!"

"I doesn't hurt me, it doesn't hurt you, it doesn't hurt
*anyone*, and it's nobody's damn business but our own.  If you
don't really love me Daddy, then say so now, and I'll leave right
now and you'll never have to think about me again."

"Baby, of course I love you!"

Jeannie stood up and pulled her top off.  Her arms were covered
with gooseflesh and her nipples were starting to harden.  She
pushed off the jeans she was wearing, followed by her panties.
"Am I ugly?" she asked.

Her slim body stood before me. She was a bud, just on the verge
of bloom.  Her thighs, right before my eyes, curved in to the
small mound of her sex, the lips of her young cunny exposed in a
way that seemed more that mere nudity. My hands cupped her ass ad
I buried my face in her belly.  "Jeannie, you are the pretti- est
girl I've ever known.  Honest."

She shivered.  "Could we go into your bedroom?  I'm cold out
here."

We left the vegetables and dip to spoil and went to my room.
Jeannie climbed right into the sheets. I started to undress,
then stopped to turn out the lights.

"Don't, please," she said.

"Honey, I'm not a young hunk.  I've got quite a few more miles on
my chassis that Carlos."  I pulled off my shoes and shirt.

"But it's *you* that I love, Daddy.  I want to see what I saw the
first morning."

"Wh-what do you m-mean, the first morning?" I stuttered, my pants
and cock both at half-mast.

"I woke up and heard moaning.  I got up and crept down the hall
and peeked in your door.  I saw you touching yourself. All alone.
I so much wanted to come to you then, but I knew I had to ask you
first. I had to know that you really, truly loved me."

I dropped my shorts and let her look at me, the body that seemed
to resist workouts at the gym: my hairy legs, my slight pot gut,
my cock, then I slid between the sheets myself.
    Chapter 4 -- The Storm Breaks

I lay on my back and pulled my little sweetheart to me.  She
sighed and lay her head upon my chest.    "This is what was waiting
for me outside the front door in my dreams," she said, "Promise
me that you will always love me and never send me away from you."

"I promise Sweet, I promise.  You have to promise that you will
never tell anyone of what we're doing.  Your mom would send me to
jail."  How ironic!  After all those accusations Bess made!

"Daddy, I could never turn on you!  I'm not going to be like Mom
when I grow up.  I'm not like her now!"

"No, you're not.  Come give me a kiss."

Jeannie raised herself on her arms and hung her head over me.
Her skin was flawless; her hair made a private chamber that held
only our faces.  Her eyes...I lost myself in her eyes as they
grew bigger and bigger and we were kissing, deeply and slowly. I
put one hand lightly on the back of her neck and the other on the
cheek of her ass.  She squirmed slowly against me as we kissed.
After what seemed like hours she lifted her head.

"Wow," she gasped, "that's like all the dreams in the world
coming true."

"That's just the start, little girl."

I lay her on her back and moved so that I lay beside her.  I bent
my head down and kissed her neck and shoulders, nipping every so
often.      She would jump at every nip, and then shiver and relax.
I stroked her belly with my hand while my mouth moved from her
shoulders to the hollow of her neck.  My mouth moved up and down
her neck from the hollow, to her chin, up her jaw to her ear,
down her neck to her shoulder, never rushing.  She ran her fin-
gers through the short hair on the back of my head.

Her skin now had the salt taste of sweat and she smelled of that
exotic bazaar.    Her belly shifted to push against my hand; I
moved my hand down between her legs, feeling her bare little
cunny. She gasped, then said, "Do it Daddy, don't stop."

I kissed slowly down to her left breast.  She arched her back
crushing her swollen nipple into my mouth.  I ran my tongue
around it, sucking and pulling back until it popped free from my
mouth. I continued kissing down the length of her belly, feeling
with my lips the downy soft hair that I had seen that first
morning.

I moved my head between her legs.  I was surprised, for she had
three pubic hairs at the bottom of her cunny.  The lips were wet
and hung loose.  I bent down and began to run my tongue lightly
up and down those sweet lips.  I had a bigger surprise; Jeannie's
clitoris was at least a half-inch long.  It looked like a little
penis. I took the clit between my lips and gently flicked it
with my tongue.  Jeannie groaned and grabbed my head, pulling it
down to her sex while thrusting up with her hips.  I sucked both
lips into my mouth along with her clit and plunged my tongue into
her.

Jeannie grabbed a pillow and hugged it to her breasts. Her moans
became a chant, "Yes Daddy, you *do* love me, I'm the very best
girl and I'll be everything you want because I love you and you
wanted me and waited for me and I came to you and you were there
and now you're here and it's *so good* and I...I...I..."

Her hips bucked and her little cunny spasmed and pulsed.  She
rocked back and forth moaning "Daddy, Daddy, Daddy..."  Slowly,
she went limp.

As I climbed up next to her, she grabbed me and started weeping
softly.  "Oh Daddy hold me, hold me, hold me."  I held her until
her tears slowed.  "Daddy, that was...I don't know!  I don't have
words! Is it that good for you?"

I pulled back and let her see my cock, now three-quarters erect.
"It will be when you please *me!*"

"Oh Daddy, show me how!"  She rolled on her back and lifted her
legs as I supposed she had seen her mother do. I knelt between
her legs and placed the head of my hardening cock between her
puffy, wet cunny lips. Then I moved it slowly up and down the
lips, smearing them with both our wetness.  She shuddered when
the spongy head rubbed against her huge clit.  After a couple of
minute of this, I positioned myself at her opening and pushed
very slowly.  The head sank into her and I felt the ring muscles
of her cunny grab me as my head ridge slipped past.

"Ah...Ahh, " she moaned in discomfort.  I stopped pushing, placed
a moistened finger beside her clit and gently flicked back and
forth.

The response was dramatic.  Her vagina opened like a mouth and
swallowed a quarter of my cock.

Jeannie's eyes seemed glazed, unfocused.  Her breath came in
gasps. I pushed gently until I felt the hard nub of her cervix
against the head of my cock.  I was only halfway in.  I pulled
slowly out; Jeannie's mouth made an "o" but no sound came out.  I
pushed again and her eyes rolled up in her head.  I hoped she was
enjoying it, because otherwise she was having some kind of fit.

Then I felt her cunny grab my cock in the pulse of orgasm.  I
pushed gently one last time and felt myself explode in her,
splashing her hidden places with my come.  Jeannie lay quietly
underneath me. I slowly pulled myself out of her, lay down next
to her, pulled the bedclothes over us and turned out the light. I
fell asleep and again, I dreamed.

--I was swimming in the sea, the green tropic sea with a breeze
  carrying the spicy smell of the Indies...Jeannie was a
  mermaid...I dived down through the green depths of Jeannie's
  eyes and between her legs and her bare little-girl cunny and
  the three red hairs were alive like anemones, wrapping around
  my legs and pulling me into her cunny and her clit was an
  erect penis and the anemone spread my legs and I took it into
  me and I was on my back and Bess/Jeannie was above me and
  was fucking me with her penis/clit and I came and came and
  came...----------


    Chapter 5 -- Comes the Dawn

I was muzzy, half-awake, wondering what was tangled in my legs.
My foggy brain realized it was a woman's legs and I pulled her to
me, pressing my growing erection against her slim ass. The woman
pushed her ass back and drove my cock into the valley of her ass
cheeks.  I groaned with pleasure.  The woman's voice murmured,
"Daddy," and I came bolt awake.  The events of the previous night
flooded my brain and my heart began to hammer.

Was I nuts?  Was I a pervert?  If the slightest hint of this came
out, not only would it ruin my chances in politics, but Bess
would see me thrown into the deepest, darkest prison in the
western hemisphere  No, somehow she would go on the 'Donahue'
show, display my picture, tell what I had done and have me thrown
into a Turkish prison and ensure that I was never released.

It seemed to be my fate, my doom, that I continually be led
around by my dick.  First Bess and now Jeannie.  Well no more! I
was master of my fate and the captain of my penis!  I was getting
out of this bed, putting my pants on...

"Daddy?" Jeannie stirred in my arms.  "Come give me a good-morn-
ing kiss."

She turned to face me, her satiny thighs nestled up against mine.
She peered through her tousled hair and found my lips with hers.
My cock declared mutiny against its captain and poked her soft
belly. She pulled back and smiled a warm, knowing smile.
"Already?  You are so strong!  I'm a little sore this morning."

My heart jumped.  "Oh, Baby!  Did I hurt you?"

She smiled.  "No, Daddy, I'm just a little stiff."  The smile
grew mischievous.  "I can tell that you are, too.  But give me a
few minutes to shower and see how I feel."

With that she slipped out of the bed and across the hall into the
bathroom.  I heard the sink running, then the toilet flush and
the shower start.  My mind played with a picture of the soap suds
running down the crack of her ass and my cock got rather sore. I
looked down at my offending member.  "Well, Stanley, this is
another fine mess you've gotten us into."  My cock remained
silent, the jerk.

I climbed out of bed and pulled on my old bathrobe.  I stumped
out to the kitchen and filled the coffee carafe with cold water.
There was a scream from the shower.  It was taking me longer than
I thought to get used to living with another person.  I started
the coffee brewing and went out to wait on the living room couch.
I started watching the morning news.  A sound bite from C-SPAN
showed the congresswoman was giving Senator B--- pure hell from
the House floor.  It was a kick to hear my speech delivered by a
fiery orator.  She really made those words hers.  It sounded as
if she believed them.

Hands covered my eyes. "Guess who?" a sweet voice asked.  "Three
guesses."

"Ummmm...Is it Susan from the agency?  No?  How about Karen from
the health club?  No, I know.  It's that sexy little Jeannie
Lewiston with the big green eyes."  I grabbed her arms and pulled
her onto my lap.  She was wrapped in one of my big Turkish tow-
els, her hair blown dry and floating like a halo around her head.
"How are you Sweetheart?"

"I'm fine.  Susan from the agency?  Do you think she's pretty?"

"Sure," I said, "But I'm not interested in her and she's not
interested in me.  We're just colleagues."

"That's what you think," Jeannie said slyly.  "Monday when I went
with you to the office and you had that meeting with Bob, the
partner?  Susan got me in her office and tried to pump me for
information about you. What you liked and didn't like, why you
didn't seem to chase women.  I think that she thought you were a
cold fish or maybe gay.  When she saw you had a daughter and that
you could act human, she wanted to know all about you. I think
she's been after you for a long time, you just never noticed."

I was pleasantly surprised.  Susan was a very attractive woman,
two years older than me, that I admired for her wit and talent.
Why is it that I had never thought of her romantically before?
"Hey!" Jeannie said, "Get that look off your face!  You've got a
girlfriend!"

I jumped back to the present, to this sweet armful of love, and a
lot of things became clear.  "Jeannie, you know I love you, and
last night was and will be one of the greatest experiences of my
life, but Baby, we can't go on."

I could see her settle herself into an entrenched position in her
mind.  "Why not?" She challenged.

This time my words came easily, clear and certain.  "Because I
don't want you to having to live a lie about the central rela-
tionship in your life. Sweetheart, I love you.  I'll always be
here for you.  But you are just beginning a part of your life
that I am halfway through.  You have a lot of growing up to do
before you decide on that special someone that you want to spend
your life with.  Dads are for the first part of your life.  You
have to, you *get to* pick someone else for the rest of it."

Her eyes softened, but did not give up.  "But I don't want to be
with some pimply teenager!"

"Sweetheart, they aren't going to stay teenagers forever.  Soon
you'll turn around and there will be just the kind of guy you are
looking for.  It doesn't have to be today, or even ten years from
now.  Just keep looking inside your own heart and inside the
hearts of those around you.  Remember, when Grandma and Grandpa
Lewiston met, she was 14 and he was 20.  They married two years
later."

Her eyes glistened with unshed tears.  "Does this mean you want
to get rid of me for Susan?"

"Baby!  No!" I hugged her close to me.  "You and me are very
special.  We have something that most people can't understand.
I'll always be here for you; I'll always be in love with you.  We
just can't live in a make-believe world."  I pulled back and
looked into those bewitching green eyes.  "Some things last all
our lives, like my being your father; some things last only for a
while and we have to make the most of them."  I pulled open her
towel and gazed hungrily at her slim body.  "And while we have
this time together, there are a LOT of things I want to teach
you, if you want to learn from me."

I pulled the towel, bringing her belly to my lips and tickling
her with my tongue.  She giggled and screamed and pushed away.
Her eyes danced.  "OK, Daddy.  For as long as it lasts, I want to
learn everything about men that you'll teach me.

"And I'll always be Daddy's girl."
    Epilogue -- All Things Must Pass


Five years have passed since Jeannie came to live with me.  She's
now a beautiful young woman of 17, and leaves for college next
fall.  I've put all my writing projects on hold and we are spend-
ing one last golden summer together.  Time races by for fathers
and daughters and for two people in love.  It's going to be very
hard to say goodbye.  Because it must be goodbye.  Jeannie is
leaving home and however often she returns and however long she
stays, everything will be changed.  And that's the hardest lesson
of all.

Jeannie did want to learn from me, but most of what we learned
from each other was simple trust.  She had grown up with a manip-
ulative mother, her mother's stream of boyfriends and a father
who wasn't there.  I had been an only child, and inconsiderate
husband and an embittered, absentee father.

Jeannie was not completely honest with me at first, though know-
ing how she had been raised I cannot blame her.  She told me the
truth a year later.  I wondered about her easy introduction to
sex.  I mean, I think I am great (don't we all?) but it all
happened just a little too easily.

It turned out that I was not the first.  One year before she came
to live with me, my ex-wife's latest boyfriend, Carlos, had
caught Jeannie peeking in the bedroom door while he screwed my
wife.  Later he bullied her into "playing some games."  Poor
Jeannie didn't know what to do, so she went along with him.  She
tried to tell her mom, but Bess would hear no evil of Carlos.
After a few months, Jeannie came across some old letters of mine
to Bess and discovered that it was the threat of falsely accusing
me of molesting that had sent me away.

Jeannie knew that Carlos was planning to take them to his family
home in Spain.    Jeannie waited until she, Bess, and Carlos had
packed, then announced that she was calling the state's child
welfare department and reporting that she was being kidnaped by a
'pederast'.  She got the word wrong, but she had adults figured
out.  Sending Jeannie to me must have seemed an ideal solution.
Bess was too frightened to refuse.  She never returned home, but
married Carlos and lived in Spain.  I wonder if she ever had
children and if they could ever trust each other.

When Jeannie arrived, she was afraid that I didn't want her and
would send her away, so, she used what tools she had to snag and
keep me.  When she told me this story we both cried for an hour,
thinking of all the pain that we risked when we both loved each
other so much.

Jeannie says that she had a great time at school.  She got top
grades, worked on the school newspaper, yearbook, literary maga-
zine, and won a journalism scholarship to a prestigious college.
She dated some (mostly with college guys) and I never got jeal-
ous.  (OK, I did get a *little* jealous, but I understand that
all dads do; it goes with the territory.)  She had sex with one
of her college guys, and later with one of her girlfriends (which
is a story in itself) but nothing permanent developed.

What did I learn?  I learned from Jeannie that it's OK to love.
It's even OK to love someone who doesn't love you back.  I can
take a risk on people now because I know someone has loved me.
One of the results has been that I started dating Susan from the
agency.  We had a sweet time together, but we parted friends
after two years.  We had satisfied our curiosity about each other
and discovered that we were not the ideal match.  But the stone
wall around my heart had been broken and I could dare to love
other women.

Jeannie approved all my dates, and when women stayed the night I
would sometimes see my bedroom door silently open a crack and I'd
moan just a little louder.

        *  *  *