Author’s Note: While I can happily promise the reader a wonderfully graphic and thoroughly erotic climax to this story, I made a clear choice to allow the sexual relationship between a father and his daughter it to develop at its own pace. I hope you’ll appreciate this journey as much as I did.
Fresh out of the shower, I used a washcloth to wipe the condensation off the bathroom mirror, wondering if I could still make eye contact with my own reflection. What had transpired over roughly the last 36 hours would change my life forever. And not just mine. There could be no going back. Could I live with myself? Could I continue doing what I had just done?
As I began to ponder this existential line of thought, I felt a pair of soft slender hands graze along my naked midsection from behind. One hand reached up along my still-wet chest; the other reached lower and gently circled its slender fingers around the shaft of my long, flaccid penis. I looked down and watched that little hand, and my penis began to thicken once again.
Could I live with myself? Yes.
Then I felt the girl press her moist naked body against me from behind. I caught her reflection as she peeked around, her hair still as wet as mine from the shower we’d just shared.
My daughter smiled at my reflection, and I smiled back.
Could I continue doing what I had just done? Yes.
But I should back up, my friend, and start from the beginning…
Very shortly after my daughter Cait had turned 18, my wife and I began discussing how we needed to have certain “parental conversations” with our only child. Yes, it seemed a little late in the game considering our daughter was already well into her teens, but we justified our procrastination by the fact that Cait had been home-schooled throughout her elementary years, then had attended a prestigious all-girls private boarding academy for high school. With such close monitoring and “protection” from the temptation of the public school system, we had turned out an extremely bright and very capable young women. Intellectually she was light-years beyond any other girl her age. But in the “ways of the world” she was shockingly innocent.
My wife Heather had attended every one of our daughter’s gynecological examinations over the years, and she was 100% sure Cait was still a virgin. And we had very good reason to believe that Cait had never so much as kissed a boy let alone done anything remotely sexual with one. You may think, my friend, that we kept a short leash on Cait during her home-schooling and boarding school years, but the fact was that we actually gave her as much freedom and privacy as we could. We simply didn’t want to subject her to a questionable education from the public school system. And Cait has always been open and honest and quite close to us. Never had there ever so much as a hint of rebellion or otherwise typical teenage resistance toward either Heather or me. But now Cait was 18. She had been accepted into a top-tier university, and reality was setting in: our little girl would be moving out soon.
“Adam,” my wife said as we were getting ready for bed for the night, “we still need to cover a few things with Cait before she’s off to college.”
“Like what?” I asked, pretending not to know what she was talking about, as if that might prevent the inevitable.
I had just finished brushing my teeth and was stripping down for bed. I always sleep nude. My wife was wearing her typical “pajamas” of just panties and an old soft t-shirt. She was sitting up in bed, looking up at me from the puzzle she’d been doing on her iPad. I enjoyed the domesticated view. I loved my wife very much, and at 42 she was still quite beautiful. While she no longer had the thinner 22-year body I had married, she kept in pretty good shape and still had large glorious breasts, which I still enjoyed staring at when I couldn’t feel them.
“Oh Adam,” she giggled, blushing. “This is an important topic. I can’t have it with you standing there completely naked! Get into bed.” I grinned and slid under the covers beside her. She closed the cover over her iPad and continued, “We need to talk to Cait about what to expect in college. In the real world.”
“Like what?” I asked again. I kind of knew what she was talking about, of course, but I knew I could no longer be childishly naïve.
“You know…like boys…sex…and drinking.”
I grimaced. “You don’t think she’s aware of those things, my dear?”
“Of course I know she’s aware of those things, darling! But, well, I feel obligated to give her a very specific and serious talk about it.” She sighed, then continued. “I’m realizing that we kept her from facing the reality of such temptations with the education we’ve given her. When she starts up college she’ll suddenly be surrounded by literally thousands of kids her age, half of them boys! The novelty of that, plus the ease of getting booze or drugs at college parties, may overwhelm her.”
I reached up and stroked my wife’s hair. “Cait’s been very easygoing and trustworthy all these hears, honey. Escort I don’t think you’re giving her enough credit. I’m sure all we have to do is discuss this over dinner tomorrow, remind her that the next phase of her schooling will be much different, full of temptations, but that we love and trust her to make the right decisions. She will respect that.”
Heather looked down for a moment, then back up at me. “We do fully trust her, Adam, and I’m sure she knows that already. But think about how we behaved in our college years. Both of us came from pretty stable family situations, white picket fences and all that, and yet I know we both went a little nuts in college! I know about the girls you slept with before we started dating, and we were both drunk off our asses more than once!”
“And look how we turned out,” I insisted, lightheartedly. “You’re one of the top realtors in the state, and I’m a vice president in my company! There is no reason to think that Cait will be any less successful, and we can’t be so naïve as to think she’ll never be curious about tasting a beer or doing one of those disgusting Jell-O shots or kissing a boy!”
Heather thought about this, absently nodding a little to my logic. But she still had her mind set on something. She said, “I acknowledge that Cait will experience this in college. And we can assume that she’s very curious about it. But I think we can de-mystify it a little before she moves out. We need to sit her down and give her a lecture about the risks and dangers of sex…and drinking or drugs.”
I chuckled, “You want to give our daughter the “Birds and the Bees” speech?” It seemed a little silly now that Cait was 18.
But Heather was quite serious: “Yes. The Birds and the Bees…and Booze.” I raised my eyebrows, and she continued. “It’s the Twenty-First Century, and she’s 18, so I’m not suggesting we need get as basic as explaining what a penis and a vagina are for. But we need to ensure that she’s fully aware of the finer details of sex, especially unprotected sex, in the real world.”
“Okay,” was all I could really say at the moment. It was weird to think how that conversation would go. And oddly enough, I felt me penis stir just a bit. Well, I was now thinking about sex, and it had been a few days since my wife and I had last made love. So I was naturally becoming aroused. However, it was a good thing Heather had asked me to get into bed before discussing this. I didn’t want her to think I was getting an erection caused by a theoretical a sex-talk with my own daughter…
“…so she can get it out of her system.”
I blinked. “I’m sorry, what?” I’d zoned out for a moment, not realizing Heather was still talking.
“I said, I think we should go ahead and let her try drinking. Here at home. In a controlled environment so she can get it out of her system.”
“Sure. Let her have a beer, some wine. Hell, make her one of your martinis if you’d like. If she wants to know what it’s like to get drunk, she should do it here, where we can keep an eye on her.”
I laughed. “That would be hilarious.”
Heather couldn’t help but smile as well. “It would be amusing to see our prim little straight-laced daughter get tipsy. But in a way, I almost want her to get really drunk, so she can get sick, wake up with a lousy hangover, then decide that such stupidity is actually no fun!”
I shrugged eventual agreement. “I suppose it would be fun to kick back and sip a martini with Cait in the den. Like a right of passage for her.”
“Good,” Heather said. “You can do that this Friday.”
“Well, it’s a Friday night, so the two of you can sleep your hangovers off all weekend.”
“I suppose that makes sense—wait,” I looked at her. “What do you mean ‘you?’ Shouldn’t there be a ‘we’ in that?”
“Adam, you know I have my real estate training retreat in Palm Springs this weekend.”
“Why don’t we just wait until we can all be together?”
“Because I know I would just cry my eyes out watching Cait get drunk. I’d be a party-pooper.”
It was my turn to sigh. But I supposed it would be an interesting way to bond with my daughter. So I nodded. “Okay, I guess.”
Heather smiled. “Oh good. Then go ahead and have the sex talk, too.”
“You know I’d break down trying to do that as well.” Indeed, Heather’s eyes were already welling up. “It just breaks my heart knowing our little girl is growing up and will soon be dating boys.”
I thought about it for a minute. Having a drink with my daughter and discussing intercourse with her. My dick jumped a little, and I gave an embarrassed cough.
“Baby,” I grunted, “Um…I really think you should be present for that particular conversation.”
“Oh, you’ll be fine, honey.” She lightly bumped my shoulder with her first. “You know Cait’s always been a daddy’s girl. She’ll listen to you, whereas she’d probably get shy and just roll her eyes at me. Besides, I have to do the hardest thing of all.”
“Tomorrow I’m taking Cait to fill her prescription for the Pill.” Escort Bayan
Again, my dick twitched. Why was it doing that?
I stammered, “Why the hell would she need that?!”
My wife said, “Insurance.” When I just stared at her, she said, “I trust our daughter to make good decisions. But again…I know what we did in college. You just make sure you give her a good detailed speech about sex. And go ahead and let her raid your fancy little bar in the den. Get the mystique and the allure out of her head, and I know it’ll have an impact.”
With that, she leaned in and gave me a light kiss. “You’re a good father, Adam. You’ll take good care of our daughter.”
Our conversation was now concluded. She kissed me again, and I kissed back. A moment later she was slipping out of her panties and t-shirt. She was pleasantly surprised at how rock-hard I was when she climbed on top of me, and probably a little disappointed at how quickly I came inside her just a few minutes later. But for some reason, I was just incredibly, inexplicably aroused that night…
Earlier in the afternoon, Heather made her good-byes to catch her flight to California. She’d be returning Sunday evening. Cait may have been a daddy’s girl, but of course she loved her mother very much and did not like the idea of not having all three of us together for the weekend. I had two ways to cheer her up. First, I was preparing one of my specialty dishes for our dinner that evening: roasted rack of lamb. Second, I was ready to offer her a drink.
“Cait, honey,” I called from across the house, “can you join me in the den?”
“Sure, Daddy,” I heard her muffled voice from her bedroom.
When she came in she was predictably wearing her favorite outfit for a night in: soft short shorts, and a cotton tank top. For some reason, I was suddenly realizing that she rarely bothered to wear a bra around the house, and tonight was no exception. For some reason, I was also noticing that, like her mother, Cait had developed some very sizable and well-rounded breasts.
It was time for a drink.
“What’s up, Daddy?” Cait asked. “Dinner smells good. Lamb?”
She giggled. “Awesome! You know how much I love your lamb!” She even bounced a little on the balls of her feet, causing her breasts to—
Yes, definitely time for a drink, my good friend!
“Honey,” I said, “You know how Daddy likes to occasionally enjoy a traditional cocktail before dinner?”
“How would you like one too?”
Her eyes went wide. “Really?”
“Sure,” I said. “It’s about time you try it, since I know you’ll be tempted to in college.”
“No, no, don’t deny it. You know it’s true. And, really, it’s okay, honey. But your mom and I thought it would be best for you to try it—to experiment—to satisfy your curiosity in a safe environment. What?”
She was giggling again. “MOM said I could drink?”
Her amusement was catching and I grinned. “Yes, believe it or not.” Heather was a wonderful woman but a bit on the conservative side, fairly mild-mannered, so I realized it was quite a shock for Cait to hear that her straight-laced mother was cool with her drinking.
I started fixing a classic gin martini, fairly dry. I did the whole dance: shaking it, straining it into a frozen martini glass, then adding three olives. Although Cait had seen me make myself a drink any number of times, she was suddenly enraptured by what I was doing. It took on an all new level of interest for her now that she’d be able to have a drink too.
I held my glass to my lips and took a sip. “Ahh, nectar of the gods.” I gestured her with the glass. “Want one?”
I was about to make a second martini, but I had a sudden thought. “Cait, why don’t you take a sip of mine first. See if you like it.”
“Okay.” It was cute to see her pad over to me in her bare feet then stand on her tippy toes, as if she had to drink it from my taller level. I lowered the glass a bit and she reached up, holding her hand over mine to guide the glass. She took a good sip.
And proceeded to gag and cough and back away quickly. “Yuck! Oh god, Daddy! How can you DRINK that?!”
“One sip at a time,” I quipped with a grin. My hunch was correct: a straight gin martini is definitely NOT a beginner’s drink. “Let me make you something sweeter and a little milder. I promise you’ll like it.”
She scrunched up her face at me for a bit, her beautiful nose still itching a bit from the blow of 94-proof Bombay Sapphire. But a moment later she smiled again and nodded. I brought out the ingredients for a classic Cosmopolitan. While still made with vodka, a hard alcohol, it would be much sweeter and milder than my own drink, and since it came in a martini glass my daughter and I could still have our more or less matching cocktails together.
I garnished her Cosmo with a very thin slice of orange, and handed it to her. Cait took a very, very tiny tentative sip…then another…then a much larger sip. She looked up at me, her eyes wide with astonishment. Bayan Escort “That’s amazing, Daddy! It’s really, really good!”
“Awesome,” I said, trying to sound cool like my daughter.
She emulated me in return: “Nectar of the gods!”
It was all so amusing, and I was quite tickled to be offering my little girl her first real drink. I raised my glass and she instinctively raised hers. “Cheers!” we both said simultaneously.
We moved to couch and kicked back side by side, sipping our cocktails and bantering over the sounds of Ella Fitzgerald, Dean Martin and Louis Armstrong via Pandora piping through the house’s integrated sounds system. Mostly we discussed her pending move to college at the end of the summer, what dorm life would be like, whether she should trade in her car for a scooter (No!), and how Mom and I would cope without her. I liked how this conversation was going, because it would make it easier to carefully work toward the Birds and the Bees, or at least I hoped it would.
We finished our cocktails about the time dinner was ready to be served up. Cait was particularly giddy and giggly after just one drink, but of course this was only the beginning. As we sat in the dining room for dinner, I opened a nice bottle of Cristom “Mt. Jefferson Cuvée Willamette Valley” pinot noir, pouring a glass for each of us.
“Really, Daddy?” she asked, watching me pour.
“Might as well, kiddo,” I said. “You enjoyed your first pre-dinner cocktail. Only fitting that you enjoy a fine wine with your meal.”
“Then by all means,” she replied, doing her best impression of a character from Downton Abby, and taking her glass.
I raised mine for another toast. “Here’s to my beautiful daughter, Cait. Yesterday a fresh graduate from high school, today Daddy’s even more beautiful college co-ed!”
Cait blushed, and her eyes got a little moist, but she returned my toast, keeping her glass up. “Oh, Daddy, how could a girl ask for a better father. I love you!”
“I love you too, pumpkin.”
We clinked glasses again and proceeded with our meal. The lamb was delicious, if I do say so myself, and the sides of roasted zucchini and red creamer potatoes with rosemary complimented the main dish superbly. It was all washed down freely with another couple of glasses of wine. By the time the dishes were cleared and thrown into the machine we also had an empty bottle on our hands. That translated to about two very full glasses of wine each. For me, that’s pretty routine and absorbable. For Cait, it had her cheerful and chatty at an almost nonstop pace. To my relief, I could already tell she was going to be one of those cheerful and perpetually happy drunks, not a sulking brood like some people can get. Interestingly enough, Cait’s mannerisms and speech patterns seemed to be reverting slightly, like when she was a much younger and even more affectionate girl of 13 or 14.
When the table was cleared Cait asked what we were going to watch on TV, a routine go-to on any other regular Friday night. However, tonight I had my mission so I suggested we retreat back into the den where the couch was actually more comfortable than the one in the living room, but more importantly that’s also where the bar was.
I strolled over to the bar, and Cait hopped on the couch, tucking her legs under her rump and watching me with a particular glow. I knew she was quite buzzed, but beyond that she seemed to be looking at me in a whole new light. Her look was open, direct, and what I could only describe as dreamy. I leaned against the bar and returned her gaze. I could not help but realize that my little 18-year-old daughter was unbelievably beautiful, and I found the innocence of her youth as intoxicating as the drinks we’d been consuming.
“Cait,” I managed to say, “I want to have a little talk with you. It’s…well, it’s definitely a grown-up talk, so if you don’t mind I’m going to have myself a little after-dinner drink.”
She smiled. “This is all so sophisticated, Daddy. First a pre-dinner cocktail, then wine with dinner, and now an after-dinner drink!”
I grinned at her observation as I poured myself a couple of fingers of Glenfiddich 18, “neat.” I glanced up at her and said, “You’ve gone this far, ready to go the distance?”
I got a second glass and dropped a couple of ice cubes into it. If any of my buddies saw me pour pricey 18-year-old single-malt scotch over ice rather than serving it neat they’d probably slap me in the face, but straight whiskey of any kind is rather potent to one who hasn’t acquired the taste for it, so I made this sacrifice for Cait’s portion.
I walked it over to her and said, “This is 18-year-old scotch, fitting for my 18-year-old girl.”
Cait giggled again, causing prominent parts of her to jiggle. Why was I suddenly obsessed with looking at my own daughter’s breasts? I suppose it was a byproduct of the anxiousness I was feeling about the “speech” I was going to be giving to her shortly. I now had no choice but to view my daughter as a sexual creature, a grown woman who could now have intercourse. I could close my eyes and instantly recall my cute little Cait as an innocent 13-year-old, running into the house screaming for Daddy to fix her scraped knee. Someday she would be screaming in ecstasy because a man’s penis would be inside her…