48 comments/ 213372 views/ 271 favorites Nothing I Won't Do By: nightshadow Author's note: This story is purely fiction. I do not engage in, condone or support incest in Real Life- it is meant solely for the realm of make-believe. I wrote this only so that I and others could gain enjoyment from it. It should be noted that this is a STORY. There are plenty of sex scenes in it with lots of graphic sex, but the story is what makes this thing so special- read it all the way through and enjoy every aspect of it. Feedback and votes, as always, are welcome and encouraged. The day my wife Lynn died was the worst day of my life. I've had a lot of bad days in my years and a lot of difficult experiences, some of them even life-threatening, but even the worst of those could not compare to the day I had to pull my daughter out of school so that she could say goodbye to her dying mother. We'd been somewhat prepared, intellectually, for the fact that her life would be cut short by a genetic blood disease that was beyond curing, but knowing a thing and experiencing it are two totally different realities. Beth, our daughter, was fifteen years old at the time and took the death of her mother, I believe, a lot harder than I did. For months she was inconsolable and cried herself to sleep each night. I wasn't much better off, mind you, but as a widower with the responsibility of raising a teenage daughter by myself, I had to quickly learn how to shelf my grief and focus on my duties as a father. I had to go back to work, which was a lot harder than I thought it would be. I was used to a routine, a sort of rhythm in our household and with the loss of my wife, coming home from work each night just wasn't the same. I didn't mind cooking the meals or cleaning the house or taking care of the bills; it was the absence of my wife's gentle humming when she cooked dinner, the funny pranks she'd leave for me or Beth while cleaning the house and the way she'd discuss every financial decision with me before committing to anything. Things got worse in short order, unfortunately. My wife had been responsible for paying the rent on the house we lived in. That money was just above the monthly mortgage which belonged to the homeowner, an affable old woman who was now alone and couldn't stand living in the house by herself and had rented it out to us on an open lease. The owner, however, had become forgetful in her old age and had gotten behind on the mortgage payments. When the housing market took a nose dive, her mortgage company foreclosed on the property and kicked me and my daughter out to the curb with hardly any notice. In a move of desperation, I put most of our belongings into storage and Beth and I moved into one of those extended-stay hotels while I tried to figure out a solution to our woes. In less than six months I had gone from being a happy family man to a widower father on the brink of financial doom with nowhere to turn. Beth's grades slipped some, but after a time and with the support of her friends, she started to slowly bounce back. After awhile I would come home to the apartment having been cleaned by her and the dinner table already set. She started to participate in making dinners and had paid close enough attention to start making them herself. She began to sift through my laundry as well as hers and, before I knew it, she'd taken over all the duties and responsibilities that her mother had when she was alive. All of this, on top of her homework and studying for tests. I don't know what exactly happened in her mind, but the changes she underwent were remarkable. I'd often told her that doing those extra things weren't necessary, but she'd always answer that if doing those things were good enough for her mother then they ought to be good enough for her. I didn't argue the matter and made a point of it to be extremely appreciative whenever possible, taking it for granted that this was probably her way of coping with her mother's death. I wish I could say that my own ability to cope was as empowering and healthy as my daughter's was, but the truth is that I couldn't focus much anymore. I was struggling with depression and doubt more and more each day. Work was getting harder on me and my social skills took a nose dive. I knew that if things didn't turn around for me soon that I would lose my job, which would put us in a very bad spot. I wouldn't be able to pay the rent on our shoe-box-sized apartment, put her through college or help her find her own way in life. I would fail her as a father. This would not do. Unfortunately, I'd never gone to college myself, so I didn't have a degree to fall back on. The insurance money from my wife's death was still wrapped up in probate, so I couldn't touch it for another year at least. My wife and I did have SOME money in savings, but not nearly enough to sustain Beth and me for a full year. I had a few modest skills, but none that made me too terribly marketable on the job front. I was a whiz at computers, but without a degree to prove it, the best I could probably manage was to get a job selling the damn things rather than actually working on them. I was in my early thirties with no prospects, essentially homeless, lots of responsibility and no direction. With nothing really presenting itself to me as a way out of my predicament, and after talking it over extensively with Beth, I decided to join the Army as a computer networking specialist, the closest thing to my skill sets that existed in the military structure. In a time of war people join the military for lots of different reasons. Most of them, unfortunately, are related to money or education rather than patriotism. And so it was with me. Don't get me wrong- I love my country and am proud to serve it, defend it and help to guide it towards a better future, but taking care of my daughter and not dishonoring the trust that my wife had imbued in me were my main reasons for joining. That first month of Basic training was by no means easy, mind you. A man in his thirties works almost twice as hard during Basic training just to keep up with the younger soldiers and there's a lot more to prove to those who outrank you since you've spent most of your life as a civilian. But that's only what I alone had to deal with. There was also Beth, who had to stay with my mother for the six months of Basic and AIT training that I had to go through. We spoke whenever possible during that time away from each other, mostly about my experiences in adjusting to Army life and sometimes about her own experiences at school. Shortly after I started my Advanced Individual Training, Beth told me that she'd dated a guy for short while who she later dumped because he was pressuring her for sex. I was proud of her for looking after her own virtue and told her as much, which led to a couple of long conversations about relationships, dating, sexuality and personal responsibility. Even from so far away, I felt gratified that I could give her guidance on such topics. We spoke frankly and honestly about everything and I felt that we were developing an honest friendship that was separate from our father/daughter relationship. To be truthful, it was refreshing to be able to open up to her about those things without feeling awkward or uncomfortable. She definitely made it easier by being just as open and honest about her own interests and curiosities. When the topic of Army life came up, however, she always sounded despondent and depressed. I constantly had to remind her that I wouldn't always be away from her, that our separation was only temporary and that it was all for her benefit. She didn't like living with her grandmother, who she described as a "tyrant", and begged me to get done with training as quickly as I could. I couldn't get it through to her that the Army dictated my training schedule and that my training would be complete when they decided it was. I knew it was a trying time for her and that she didn't fully understand what it was that I had chosen to do, all for her sake, but she accepted the situation for what it was and didn't hold it against me. When I got out of Basic I got some time off to go home, get my daughter and pack up our things: I was being stationed in another state, far away from Beth's place of birth and her mother's place of death. To say that my daughter wasn't thrilled with the idea is an understatement, but we'd discussed the likelihood that we'd have to move before I ever joined up and she'd promised that she wouldn't rebuke me if that turned out to be the case. True to her word, my daughter kept silent about her unhappiness at leaving everything she knew behind and even tried her stout best to put a good face on it. She put her best foot forward and followed me to Tennessee, where I was stationed- Fort Campbell, home of the 101st Airborne Division. All the while, and especially during the trip (we drove the distance from Dallas, Texas to Clarksville, Tennessee in two days' time), we talked just like we had while I was away at AIT. It was a real treat to see how well Beth was recovering from her mother's death and was turning into a bright, engaging young woman. I thanked my lucky stars that she was with me and was growing prouder to be her father every day. We adjusted quickly to military life. Beth started going to school outside the base and I'd finally gotten my wife's insurance settlement so that I could afford to buy a house in the area, which was something of a milestone for me. Meanwhile, I was getting familiar with the unit I had been assigned to and was making a good name for myself as a computer "go-to" guy who could get things done. That first year at my unit was filled with a lot of adjustments, some of them very tough but most of them very positive, and my relationship with my daughter became a lot stronger. She was proud of her father and, when she wasn't in school, had literally thrown herself into the Family Readiness Group and made friends with a lot of the Army wives in my unit. She was seventeen then, but extremely mature beyond her years and everyone could see it. She was smart, articulate, beautiful and friendly, never saying a bad thing about anyone and always supportive of her single dad. Everything she did made me prouder and it was clear that she wanted to show everyone in the FRG that I'd raised her well. Word came down, eventually, that our unit would deploy to Afghanistan. At first this bit of news was frightening for my daughter to hear. She was scared for me and for herself. She worried that something might happen to me while I was over there and, if it did, she would be alone, which was a prospect that she wasn't willing to face just yet. I assured her, up one end of the street and down the other, that nothing would happen to me. My position within the battalion was such that it was in everyone's best interests to keep me safe and out of harm's way. I was responsible for maintaining my battalion's computer network and satellite communications equipment; without me, my unit wouldn't be able to communicate with the rest of the world. They needed me to be in one piece and do my job. I wouldn't be going out on any missions and I would be treated as an extremely valuable asset, essential and irreplaceable. Her fears for my safety were quelled, but not entirely squelched, and she made an even more concerted effort to make sure that I had everything that I needed while I was gone. Being a good and loving father, I did my four-square best to do the same. Every bill was tied into my checking account for automatic payment, which ensured that she didn't have to worry about it. I set aside a small portion of my military pay that would be deposited into an account for her, $350 every month for incidental expenses like gas and food and entertainment. I had a few Army buddies who were staying behind and had promised to keep a close eye on my daughter and house for me- guys who had families of their own and could be trusted to look after my daughter with the same level of care that they would devote to their own daughters. They wouldn't be intrusive mind you, but they'd make discrete phone calls just to check up on her and get face time with her during Family Readiness Group meetings to make sure she was okay. Beth continued to go to school and, since she was interacting so much with adults within the FRG, her maturity levels increased ten-fold. It was no surprise, then, that she got the attention of a young man who managed to keep her interest. He was older and struggling into adulthood on his own, but very respectful of her and treated her extremely well. Being under eighteen years of age, Beth had made it clear to him that she would not have sex with him and until she was ready, as long as he was okay with that, they were good as a couple. He didn't complain and never put any pressure on her, much to my delight, and proved himself to be every bit a gentleman and honorable kid. His own father had been a military man who had died in battle, so he never once made a fuss about Beth's support of me. We talked from time to time and I actually came to like the guy, most especially when he would wake up early in the mornings to give Beth a ride to school and vowed to me that he would make sure she was taken care of while I was away. As a male I had no illusions about how attractive my daughter was, so it was with some misgivings that I allowed Beth to stay at the house pretty much alone while I was gone. I had to trust in her wits and intelligence, which is never easy even under the best of circumstances, but Beth had done everything in recent years to prove to me that she was trustworthy and mature enough to stay out of trouble. With a heavy heart and a good bit of trepidation, I left with my unit for Afghanistan and prayed to God every night that my daughter would be safe and sound in my absence. The first few weeks in Afghanistan were, as you might expect, a challenge on every front. Most of our time was spent in setting up the battalion so that we could carry out our missions and gain a clear understanding of our environment in all aspects. This meant that my time was devoted almost exclusively to creating our network and setting up computers for the entire administrative staff (roughly around 150 people all told). I was so busy, in fact, that I hardly got any time to myself. It wasn't until our third week in the field before I could call back home and check in on my little girl. Everything, from what I could tell by her reports, was going fine without me and there were no problems to speak of. My daughter was holding up on her own pretty well, which was welcome news. Phone calls to home were rare, but being the network administrator for the battalion afforded me the opportunity to send emails whenever I wanted. For five months straight my daughter and I corresponded on an almost daily basis via the Internet and she kept me informed of nearly every little thing in her life. School was going well, there had been a few bad rain storms but no damage to the house, the car was running without trouble, her boyfriend was making sure that she made it to school every day... all in all, she was learning how to live on her own and embracing her independence with flourish. She kept telling me that she missed me and that things just weren't the same without me being around, that my absence kept reminding her of the fact that her mother wasn't around, either- most times she had good news, but sometimes the loneliness she felt came through like a cannon shot and was heartbreaking to read. Every day I kept focus on my job, going through my routines with care and trying my best to stay motivated. When things got tough or scary (we were, after all, in the middle of a war- the enemy wasn't eager to leave our area and fought us every step of the way), I kept reminding myself what I was doing this for: my daughter. I kept a picture of her on my cell phone (which was useless in that country except as an alarm clock) and looked at it to keep my spirits up. She was such a beautiful creature, my daughter. All the guys in my shop kept telling me that I was crazy to leave her home alone and one of them even remarked that if he was back there he'd be doing everything he could to woo her. I took that in stride and didn't get upset about it. Intellectually, I could see why he'd want to: Beth truly was a gorgeous girl. She had long brown hair with natural, curly locks in it that came down to the small of her back; she was short at just four-foot-nine-inches; her figure was trim and athletic; her legs showed signs of strong thighs which met up to narrow hips and a small, tight rear end; and her 37-C breasts (I sometimes had to shop with her for new bras- one of the pitfalls of parenthood, I guess) were high, round and firm and showed lots of cleavage when she wore certain tops. Her face was just as appealing to look at with small, pouty lips, soft brown eyes and a cute nose. She kept in shape and walked with absolute grace, commanding the attention of every male who set eyes on her, even me. I knew my daughter was a "hottie" and was proud of that fact, but I made it clear to the rest of the guys in my shop that none of them stood a chance in hell with her, at least not while I was alive and had anything to say about it. At the beginning of the fifth month of our deployment I got word that I was scheduled for some R&R. I was afforded 2 weeks of Leave time back home and, coupled with travel time, would be gone from the battalion for about a month in total. The timing couldn't have been better since the time off would correspond with Beth's birthday (she was born the day before Halloween). When I called home to give Beth the news, she just about cried with joy over the phone, she was so happy. Almost immediately she started making plans for things we'd do while I was home- going out to dinner, seeing movies, visiting local friends and family, staying in to rent videos of movies that I'd missed... all of it sounded good to me, but I told her that I mostly just wanted to stay home and relax as much as humanly possible and treat her to a great birthday dinner at a nice restaurant. I promised her that we'd do all of the things she'd planned, but I didn't want to restrict myself to any set or specific plans, that I wanted to play things loosely and by ear. She understood entirely and promised me that she wouldn't pressure me to do anything that I didn't want to. The trip back home was arduous and didn't go half as quickly as I would have liked, but, as with everything else, the thought of being able to see my little girl again helped to keep me in a positive frame of mind. I bounced from place to place, travelling from one half of this planet to the other for three days straight, until my plane finally touched down in Nashville on October 29th. I was completely exhausted from the trip and probably smelled like a sweat sock when I got off the plane, but when she saw me walking through the terminal doorway, my daughter all but threw herself into my arms with a happy hug. I barely had time to register the fact that she was wearing a cream-colored summer dress that came down to her ankles and her hair was done up with ringlets. We embraced joyously for a long moment while she cried into my shoulder and repeatedly told me how glad she was that I was home again. When we broke the hug, I took a step back to look at my daughter appraisingly. "You haven't changed a bit," I told her. "You look good." Beth smiled sweetly, picked up my smallest bag and slipped the strap over her shoulder with barely a grunt. Even my smallest bag was by no means light and easily weighed as much as she did. "Well," I said with surprise, "maybe you HAVE changed some." She smirked as she started to lead the way to baggage claim. "I've been doing some working out with your weights while you were away," she explained. "I'm not, like, buff or anything, but I have been getting stronger. And I've been running, too. See?" She stopped to partly hike up her skirt on one side just enough to show me her left calf. It looked strong and well sculpted from exercise. And cleanly shaven. "Two miles a day. One in the morning before school and one when I get home. For the first month I kinda went on an eating binge because I missed you so much and I was moping around the house all the time by myself. At one point I saw your exercise equipment just sitting there and I was frustrated with nothing to do so I figured 'What the hell?' and started lifting the weights like I've seen you do. I worked up one hell of a sweat until I couldn't do it anymore, but I felt fantastic, so I decided to stick with it. Thirty minutes every day, after my run. Before I knew it, I lost weight that I'd gained and I had more energy and was sleeping better. I'm not, like, addicted to exercise or anything like that, but I've decided that I like the way it makes me feel and I can't complain about the things it's done for my bod." Nothing I Won't Do I couldn't find fault with that at all. She looked terrific and I told her so. "I don't think I've ever seen you so relaxed and happy," I said. "I mean, you've always been pretty well adjusted, Sweetheart, but it's like I'm seeing a whole new you." That bashful smile played across her face again as we approached the baggage claim carousel. "I guess I'm just really glad to have my Dad back home again," she said. "I really missed you." I dropped the duffle bag that was hanging from my shoulder as we came to a stop at the carousel and gave her a warm, loving hug. "I've missed you, too, honey. I thought about you every day." She hugged me back and her embrace was so tight that I couldn't miss the emotion behind it. We broke our hug again and she wiped a small tear from her eye, trying her best to not let her emotions get away from her. "So," she said, changing the subject, "how was your trip?" I rolled my eyes and was about to speak when one of my buddies, who was also on looking for his luggage, strolled by and answered for me. "Don't. Ask," he muttered tonelessly. I nodded in agreement. "That pretty much sums it up, actually. We're all a little worse for wear. All I want to do is get home, take a shower and crash into bed for about ten hours." Beth giggled and held up the car keys in the air. "So I guess I'll be driving us back home, then?" I snagged the keys from her hand and said, "Not on your life. As much as I missed you, I missed the freedom of driving. I'm bombed out of my mind with exhaustion, but getting behind the wheel sounds like a great way to perk me up." "Hey, Carson!" another one of my buddies shouted. He was standing closer to the carousel and tossed a duffel bag in my direction, which landed right at my feet. "Take this damn thing and get the hell out of here! Every minute counts, buddy!" I gratefully picked up the bag and offered my thanks to my fellow soldier. And, with that, my daughter and I bolted out of the airport like a pack of wolves were chasing us. We threw my bags into the back of the car and got into it quickly, not wanting to waste a minute of my Leave time. Something odd happened, though, when we got into the car seats. Before starting the ignition, I turned to look at my daughter, to tell her how glad I was to be back home, and she looked at me. Our eyes locked for a brief moment and, before I could say anything, Beth leaned over and kissed me. On the lips. It wasn't one of those hot, passionate kind of kisses, but it was nevertheless not the kind of kiss a young woman should give to her father. When our lips parted, she just patted me on the cheek and said, "Welcome home, Dad." I stared at her for a long moment, trying to figure out what the hell had just happened. "What... what was THAT?" I asked. Beth just shrugged and said, "What? I can't show my appreciation to my father, for all the amazing things he's done for me these last few years, with a kiss? Geez, Dad. Relax. It was just a quick peck. You're my dad and I love you. Besides, isn't it, like, traditional for a soldier returning home to get a kiss or something?" "Well, maybe, yeah, but not from his daughter. What's gotten into you?" Beth shook her head and said, "I'm fine, Dad. I'm just glad you're home. That's all. And, speaking of which, we're not home YET. The sooner you get some rest, the sooner we can celebrate my birthday. It's only a day away and we've got plans, remember?" I continued to stare at her for a few heartbeats and then decided to just let it pass. Kids do crazy things sometimes. I started the ignition and drove us out of the airport. The drive home was filled with conversation about my experiences in Afghanistan, but it was all a blur. I knew that the ride home would take just under an hour, but it seemed like only five minutes later when I found myself pulling into the driveway. We didn't even bother unloading the car as I trudged off to my bedroom and immediately collapsed on my bed where I enjoyed the sleep of the dead for exactly ten hours. --------------------------------- I had a mostly satisfying sleep except for a single, weird dream that woke me up. In the dream I was with my late wife and we were making love more passionately than I ever remembered having done with her in the past. At one point, she was riding on top of me and my gaze was fixed completely on where we were joined. She sat up and said, "Welcome home, Daddy," in our daughter's voice. When I looked up, I saw that my wife had somehow been replaced with Beth and she pointed down to her belly button. "I'm so glad you came home," she said in a husky voice. I sat up with a start, jerking myself out of the dreamworld in a bit of a panic. My mind was still whirling with the images I'd seen in the dream and I didn't know what to make of it. I felt my forehead and realized that I was sweating almost profusely. A further inventory of my body's state resulted in the discovery that I had a severe hard-on and I was just seconds away from a dream-induced orgasm. I closed my eyes tightly, trying to get my body under control, but the only thing my mind's eye allowed me to see was the vision of my daughter, naked and sitting on top of my groin in ecstatic pleasure. My body spasmed and it took every ounce of self-control not to cum. I breathed steadily through my nose, my heart pounding in my chest as my body calmed down slowly, and then I simply flopped on my back as my pulse returned to something close to normal. After the moment was behind me and I felt that I was in the clear, I lifted the sheets up to see that I'd made a small mess just with precum. I guess going a few years without sex can do that to a guy. Oh, sure, I masturbated from time to time, even when I was in Afghanistan, but I hadn't had a wet dream like that since before my wife passed away. Having soiled bed sheets was bad enough, but the thing that really got my attention was recalling the dream that inspired my near-orgasm: I'd been dreaming of my daughter, of fucking her. Or, more to the point, she was fucking me. I glanced at the clock (5 AM), groggily got out of bed and went into the master bathroom to clean myself off. At first I was just going to use a hand towel to wipe away the mess around my groin, but decided that it would be better to just take a shower and wash away a few days of travel from my body. I put the strange erotic dream out of my mind and instead focused on more practical matters- coffee being at the top of my list. I quickly got done with the shower, put on a clean pair of boxer-briefs and made my way into the kitchen. I didn't expect that Beth to be awake that early in the morning but, as I was making some coffee, she stumbled into the kitchen and blinked bleary-eyed at me. I blinked back at her, not prepared to see her wearing one of my old t-shirts. "Dad? What're you doing up? Are you okay?" "I'm fine, Sweetheart. I just had an alarming dream and woke up. I've been asleep for ten hours, so I figured I'd get an early start today and started up a pot of coffee. Go on back to sleep. I'm sorry if I startled you." Beth smiled wanly and waved my apology off. "No, no. It's okay. I mean, yeah, you woke me up, but that's only because I've gotten used to the house being silent." "I guess we'll both have to adjust to me being home, eh?" I said with a slight chuckle. I was feeling very self-conscious about the fact that I was standing there in the kitchen, with my daughter, just wearing my boxers, but if she wasn't going to make a big deal out of it then neither was I. I turned around to get a coffee mug out of the cabinet. "Get one for me, too, will you please?" Beth asked from behind me. With my back to her, all I could hear was her gently pulling one of the chairs away from the kitchen table. "Since when do you drink coffee?" I asked with surprise as I took another mug out for her. I'd never seen her drink the stuff. Not hot coffee, anyway. "I kinda got used to the scent of it over the last few years," she said. "With you gone and two cans of the stuff sitting in the cabinet, I decided to try some. I was actually surprised that I liked it. And I take mine with creamer and sugar, just like you. I can't stand it black. Bleh." I poured us two cups of joe and added cream and sugar in proportions that I prefer, only guessing that her claim to like it the way I have mine meant exactly so, and turned around. Beth was sitting at the kitchen table, one leg crossed over her opposing knee, and paused at what I saw: my daughter was wearing ONLY my t-shirt. No panties underneath. When she saw my eyes widen, she immediately realized what I'd glimpsed and quickly lowered her leg to hide her briefly exposed, shaven pussy from view. "Sorry," she said with a startled blush. "I'm still getting used to having someone around in the mornings. To be honest, I normally don't even bother with this much," she added with a tug on the t-shirt. "It's yours. I hope you don't mind. I missed the smell of you." I gathered my wits about me and approached the table, placing her steaming mug of coffee in front of her. "It's okay," I said calmly. "Like I said: we'll both have to adjust to me being home. Besides, it's not like I haven't seen a woman's private parts before. It's no big deal." A playful smirk crept across her mouth. "So does that mean I can fall back to my normal routine and lose the shirt?" I raised my eyebrows at her, trying my best to hide my surprise at such a bold question, but found myself saying, "If you think you'd be more comfortable that way, I'm not going to stop you. You're going to be eighteen tomorrow, which will make you a legal adult and responsible for your own decisions." Beth took a small, halting sip of coffee and pursed her lips at the heat of it. When the hot liquid cleared her throat, she said, "Actually, Dad, I'm eighteen NOW." I realized, with dismay, that she was right. I had slept so hard that I'd forgotten what day it was. "Oh my God," I said with a groan. "I'm so sorry, honey. The jet lag got the better of me. Happy birthday!" Beth let out a small giggle and smiled. "It's okay, Dad. I've got all day to celebrate and you really needed your rest." We both took sips from our mugs in a thoughtful silence that lasted for all of thirty seconds before Beth said, "So... what was it about?" I knitted my eyebrows at her. "What was what about?" "The dream that woke you up." I looked down at my coffee cup and thought quickly. Did I want to make something up, tell her the whole truth or just tell her part of the truth? As a rule, I avoided lying to my daughter as much as humanly possible. I've always felt that trust between a parent and child must be rooted in honesty regarding all things, no matter how uncomfortable they may be. Some things, however, are best left unsaid. "Well," I began, "I was dreaming of your mother." "Mmm," Beth said appraisingly with a playfully cocked eyebrow. "A good dream, I hope?" I nodded gently. "You could say that. We were making love, if that's what you mean." "And that's what woke you up?" my daughter asked with confusion. "I thought those kinds of dreams were the ones you want to keep having." "Normally, yes," I replied with a shrug. "But this one was different. In the dream she changed into someone else. It kinda threw me for a loop. Startled me." "Who was it? Who did she change into?" she asked. Of course, it was the next logical question and, of course, I inwardly winced when she asked it. I had hoped that she would let it go and not delve too much deeper, but Beth is a naturally curious creature: anything new or different piqued her interest and when that happened, she would hound after it until she got the full story. She absolutely hated not knowing things or being evaded. I took a deep breath and decided to face the music. I couldn't bring myself to raise my eyes to meet hers, though, so I reached for my coffee cup as I answered just before taking a sip. "You." That brought her up short and gave her a moment of pause. "Me? Really?" she finally asked. "Wow." I tried to shrug it off. "It was just a dream, Sweetheart. Probably brought on by that whopper of a kiss you gave me yesterday. It doesn't mean anything." "Oh, I don't know about that, Dad," she said conversationally, now fully aware and watchful of my every move. "I guess it makes a certain sort of sense, in a weird way." Again I arched my eyebrows at her, this time in unconcealed surprise and a mixture of inexplicable indignation. "Indeed?" I asked. "And how is that? How does dreaming of sex with my daughter make any kind of sense?" "Well," she said calmly, "first, as you mentioned, there's that kiss. Then, Mom was the one who took care of you and made you a home. She looked after all the little things that you missed. After she died, I guess I sorta took on some of her responsibilities. Not all of them, but some of them. I don't think I'll ever replace Mom, and I wouldn't want to, but I do try to make you as comfortable as she did. And you do the same thing for me, guiding me the way she would have. I mean, you're my dad and I'm your daughter, but in a weird way, we're sort of like a couple, too. I'm the only woman in your life right now, mostly because Army life doesn't give you the time to go out dating much, so I guess it makes sense that you'd dream of me in that way from time to time, especially after I kissed you. I'm no psychologist, but it makes sense to me, so I'm officially telling you, Dad, that there's no need to feel weird about it. Like you said, it was just a dream. Besides, it's not like I don't have dreams like that, too," she added off-handedly. That last bit really floored me. "You DO?" I blurted with total shock. "Sure," she answered. "At first, yeah, it sorta weirded me out, but after doing a little research, I found out that it's perfectly natural and now I just let it go without letting it interfere with my relationship with you. Dreams are dreams. I'm sure that, somewhere down the road, you'll have dreams of some of your experiences in Afghanistan, too, but that doesn't mean you'll wake up ready to kill somebody, does it? So what if we dream about having sex with each other? It's not like we'll actually do it. For one thing, it's against the law and, for another, well..." she trailed off. "Well, what?" I prompted. She waved it off. "I can't think of a second thing right now," she told me dismissively. "It's too early. Anyway, the point is, if you dream about me every once in awhile, I'm okay with that. In the final analysis, I know that you love me and that you'll never hurt me, so I have nothing to worry about. So. I won't worry about it and neither should you. You can fuck me as much as you like... in your dreams." She winked at me playfully, took a large gulp from her coffee mug and set it down on the table. "If you'll excuse me, Dad, I think it's about time that both of us get ready for the day. Besides, I think you've got some business to attend to." She nodded at my groin. I looked down and saw, much to my chagrin, that I was sporting a very prominent erection beneath my boxer-briefs. The outline of my engorged member was so clearly defined that even some of the veins were visible through the fabric. I looked back up to apologize or explain it away or something, but my daughter had already disappeared out of the kitchen and out of my sight. I looked back down at my throbbing mast and muttered, "You have the absolute worst fucking timing in the world, you know that?" My cock merely pulsed in silent reply, as though to say that, yes, it knew that very well and was not one bit repentant about it. "Fuck," I said to the empty kitchen. I stood up, grabbed my half-full cup of coffee and made my way downstairs, severely annoyed at how I'd started my first real day of Leave. --------------------------- As I said before, I fully understood, on an intellectual level, that my daughter is a gorgeous young woman. But never, not once, have I regarded or thought of her as a sexual being or looked at her the way a man normally looks at a beautiful woman. She was always my daughter, full of spirit and intellect and emotion, not some young thing ready to be conquered, least of all by me! I felt ashamed and full of self doubt as I went through the motions of getting dressed. I allowed myself to ruminate on our conversation, picking it apart in my head, and couldn't draw any sort of real consensus of what had been said. Finally, I decided to just accept the fact that my little girl was now a full-grown adult woman, legally of-age and mature enough to decide for herself what was right or wrong. She'd told me that I shouldn't be worried about my dream and that she felt it was natural for people in our situation. I decided to put faith in that and just let it go. If she wasn't going to let it bother her then I wouldn't either. Of course, I wouldn't advertise it every time I had a dream about her, if I ever had another, but I wouldn't let it get to me. Dreams were dreams; reality was reality: ne'er the twain shall meet, right? Right. Once I'd gotten dressed, I figured that when Beth was ready to start celebrating her birthday, she'd come and let me know. Until then, however, I might as well catch up on some of the stuff I'd missed while I was overseas. I turned on my computer (which had miraculously not been shorted out in any rain storms while I was away) and began to check my email Inbox, which was filled to the brim with SPAM. It took me a good thirty minutes to sift through all of the SPAM and, when I was done, found that I had a grand total of 8 real email messages. Eight emails over a 5-month period. I'd taken care to have most of my emails diverted to my Afghan email account, but to see so few waiting for me was a little bit of a let-down. The real sad thing, though, is that six of them were related to billing invoices and other such non-personal correspondence. The two remaining emails were from a friend I knew a few years ago but had lost touch with, and he wasn't even really that good a friend, so I was in no big hurry to respond. With nothing left to do on that front, I opened up my web browser and began trolling some of the adult websites that I couldn't view while I was away, Literotica among them. Now, this is my dirty little secret: as much as I didn't look at my daughter in a sexual way, I'd always, even before I got married, had a fetish for incest erotic fiction. My particular bent, and the irony wasn't lost on me, was father/daughter incest. I've even written some. It first started out with and interest in mother/son stories, but as time went on, I found myself drawn more to the dad/daughter stories, mostly out of fascination at first and then out of depraved lust over time. My wife was aware of my interest in such stories, and even the fact that I wrote them, but she never complained about it. She actually liked reading the brother/sister stories, even though she was an only child. We even role-played a bit when we made love sometimes, just to spice things up- and it often worked. Usually we played siblings, but I remember a few occasions where I was "Daddy" and Lynn was my "naughty little daughter." God, I missed my wife right then! So it was with a certain measure of conflicted carnal need that I started to view the titles of all the stories I'd missed over those intervening months. Key words like daddy, daughter, fuck, family and sundry other words jumped out at me as I scrolled through over two hundred story titles. I tried to divorce myself from my conscience, but it was to no avail. Halfway through the first story I'd selected, I found myself imagining myself as the main character and Beth, rather than Lynn, as the young lady getting nailed. The realization unnerved me to no end and I kept feeling guilty about my thoughts. Nothing I Won't Do Frustrated as I was, I decided to switch gears. One fetish wasn't working out the way I'd hoped, hitting me way too close to home, so I chose my back-up fetish: creampie videos. Lots and lots of those to choose from, and very few which had an incest theme to them. I found one particular video clip on a porn-tube website that really got my motor running and I quickly began to rub myself through my boxers. A few minutes of that, though, was hardly enough to satisfy me, so I pushed my pants and boxers down around my ankles while still sitting and really began to stroke myself, fully intent on getting rid of my pent-up sexual frustration. I didn't even bother with putting on earphones, thinking that Beth would almost certainly be upstairs in her bedroom and listening to music while she got ready for the day. Right at the climax of the video clip, at the point where the male stud was about to cum inside the young, large-breasted woman he was furiously shagging from behind, I felt my own orgasm begin. As my testicles began to clench and I could feel a rather large amount of cum start to make its way through my thick 9-inch shaft, my bedroom door opened and Beth walked in, her eyes immediately fixed on my exploding member. "FUCK! BETH!" I cried out as my cum began to spew upwards in a high arc. "Holy shit!" Beth exclaimed and her jaw simply dropped open in stunned awe as her eyes took in the sight of her father climaxing uncontrollably. Three healthy spurts of semen shot into the air from my spewing member while she stared, transfixed, at me in stunned shock. The first of those three shots arced high into the air and landed right on the back of her hand, which caused her to involuntarily flinch like she'd been scalded from the heat of it. All I could do at that point was stare back at her balefully, my body wracked with spasms and beyond my control as the other two shots splattered on the floor. Another two strong jolts swept through my body and those found a home on my computer screen. "Oh, shit, Dad, I am SO sorry! Hold on!" She immediately disappeared from sight, much to my relief, and closed the door behind her swiftly. I leaned back in my chair, completely winded and totally embarrassed at the situation, surveying the mess I'd just made all over my stomach and computer desk with massive amounts of chagrin. After the conversation we'd had over coffee that morning, I could only imagine what was going through my daughter's mind at that point. I thought that, for sure, I'd have to do a lot of explaining to get back in her good graces. Imagine MY surprise, however, when the door opened up again and, this time, Beth had a towel with her. "Here," she said, handing the towel to me, her eyes practically glued to my slimy, oozing cock. "I'm so sorry that I just barged in on you like that, Dad. I should've knocked first. I'm really, really sorry." I took the towel from her and noted that the first glob of cum that had landed on her hand was now conspicuously gone. I began to wipe away the goo that had splattered all over myself and saw that some droplets had made their way onto the keyboard. "And I suppose," I said sourly as I gently wiped my cum off the keyboard keys, "that coming BACK in here, again without knocking, seemed like the right course of action?" Beth leaned against the door frame, watching me, and smirked while she amusedly bit down on a fingernail. My computer desk was situated right next to the bedroom doorway, so she was close enough to actually smell my cum from only a few feet away. "Well, you DID make a pretty big mess," she said. She glanced at my computer screen and swabbed a streak of my cum that I hadn't cleaned up yet. As she did so, she noticed the video I had been viewing. On the screen the woman who'd just received a rather healthy dose of cum inside her pussy was showing her prize off for the camera, white creamy liquid slowly oozing out of her well-fucked vagina. "Oh!" Beth said with surprise while she absent-mindedly sucked the small amount of my seed from her fingertip, "I didn't know you were into creampies!" My composure, by then, was completely gone, to say nothing of my decorum. At that point it would have been a farce to try and look dignified. I stopped wiping up my cum and just stared up at my daughter as she finally registered the fact that she'd just taken her father's cum, small amount though it had been, into her mouth with hardly a thought right in front of me. "And what would you know about it?" I asked her. "Hmm," she muttered as she gamely tried to classify the taste in her mouth and then shrugged, her little faux pas forgotten for the moment. "It's one of my fetishes, too," she told me with complete ease in her voice. "I mean, yeah, I've never had sex, but I've got this fantasy of what it probably feels like, y'know?" I shook my head and tossed the cum-soaked towel into the dirty clothes hamper across the room, Beth's eyes following it as it flew through the air and went right into the hamper. Score two points for Daddy- nothing but net. I then stood up, my cock still semi-erect but starting to droop now that my carnal desires had been sated, and pulled up my pants to cover my groin from Beth's seemingly very interested gaze. "Normally, Sweetheart, I'd have no problems talking about this kind of stuff with you, but, under the circumstances, I think I'd like to change the subject if you don't mind." "Dad," Beth began, "you've got nothing to be embarrassed about. If anything, from what I saw, you ought to be pretty damned proud. I mean, that's an impressive piece of equipment you've got, Dad." I ignored the compliment and turned away from her in search of my wallet, anything to look at other than my daughter. "So... to what do I owe the embarrassment of your visit? Did you have something in mind to tell me or was that just a random intrusion?" "Oh, uh, I just came down to tell you that I called in sick to school today, it being my birthday and all. Actually, I guess I sorta called in well, but they won't know the difference and I've got a few sick days to use. And I, uhm, was wondering if you wanted to go get some breakfast or something." I turned to look at her and said, "Sure. I'm kinda hungry. But if you make one, single joke about sausage and eggs, you're fending for yourself." Beth's cheeks dimpled impishly but she kept herself in check. "Deal," she said. "So... IHOP?" "Sounds good," I said. "I'll meet you at the car in five minutes." When she left I just stood there, in my room, and regarded my computer screen, which still showcased the website that was home to the porn clip and brightly advertised various other porn sites for me to visit and would I like to check out some sexy cheerleaders? I hit ALT+F4 on my keyboard with a certain measure of finality and muttered, "Well, that went disastrously." ------------------------------- During those few minutes before meeting up with Beth at the car, I was in a near panic over what had just happened. I knew I wasn't seeing things: Beth had tasted my cum right in front of me like it was no different than tasting cupcake frosting. She didn't bat an eye or make mention of it, but the subtext of her message was clear: she was toying with me. I couldn't, for the life of me, figure out what the hell was going on with my daughter, but I knew that I had to somehow get the upper hand in this strange ordeal and I had better do it fast or things would get out of control in no time flat. While I knew that Beth was still a technical virgin, I knew that she had a vibrator, had long-since broken her hymen in junior high as a cheerleader and was aware of herself as a sexual being, even if I had been somewhat oblivious to it until that morning. Now that she was eighteen, she was probably chomping at the bit to get laid for real and, being the only male within shooting distance, I had somehow become the target of her amorous intentions. I was tempted, sorely tempted, to call her bluff and start flirting with her right back, but I felt that flirting with my daughter was actually flirting with disaster and could ultimately backfire on me. I had to figure out a way to redirect her attentions and get me out of her sights. Beth met me at the car wearing another summer dress. This one, however, came up to her mid-thigh and was a summery yellow hue. It was unseasonably warm that day and there was a slight breeze that rustled the dry leaves from the trees and also caused the hem of her dress to flutter about tantalizingly in the morning light. Her hair, still adorned with ringlets from the day before, shined pleasantly in the sunlight and had a soft shimmer to it. She got into the car with a brief, enigmatic smile that she flashed at me and I got into the driver's seat, started the car and drove out of the driveway, thinking about how I might turn the tables on her. As we were driving down the road in front of the house, I said, "So... how'd it taste? Good?" "How did what taste?" she asked, her face a total blank. "My cum," I clarified. "I saw you swipe that little bit of it off the screen. It's not like you were trying to be coy about it, either. I'm guessing that you wanted me to see that, so I'm not going to play stupid and ignore it. Then there's the bit that landed on your hand, which miraculously disappeared by the time you returned with the towel. I'm assuming that you ingested that, too. So... how'd it taste?" Beth was silent for a thoughtful moment and asked, "You aren't angry?" "Why should I be angry? Clearly you didn't know what semen tastes like and there was a perfectly good opportunity to find out. Totally logical. Not, mind you, that tasting your father's cum is necessarily the best way to find out, but I'll concede that you have to take your opportunities where you find them. So, no, I'm not angry. More concerned than anything." Beth heaved a huge sigh and leaned back in the car seat with relief. "Oh, thank God! I thought you were going to, like, get all weird on me about it. Thank you for understanding, Dad." I kept my own counsel about just how understanding I was about the situation; I was trying to get the upper hand here. "No problem. But you still didn't answer the question. Did my seed taste good or bad?" Beth shrugged. "Well, to be honest, I don't really know. I mean, I kinda got a taste of it, but not really. There really wasn't that much of it for me to tell. I guess it was okay. I don't really have anything to compare it to." I nodded reasonably, already aware of the subtext of her reply: she wanted to taste more. I wasn't going to fall into that trap. "Really? What about that guy you were dating before I left? Carl, was it? I mean, I know you were waiting until today before you had sex with him, but surely you guys got into some heavy petting and some oral sex, right?" Here we go, I thought to myself. Masterful. Shift the focus onto someone else other than me, divert her attentions elsewhere. "Yeah," she said slowly. "We fooled around a little bit, but I kinda broke up with him a few weeks ago. He wasn't getting pushy or anything, but we were getting kinda hot and heavy and I was worried that I wouldn't be able to control myself around him anymore. I wanted to wait until I'm legal so that he wouldn't get into trouble or anything. And he was okay with that, I guess. Maybe a little disappointed, but totally cool about it. But after awhile I kinda realized that, really, he isn't the kind of guy I'm looking for. I mean, he's super-cool and stuff, but he's just not... I don't know... not ready. Or I'm not ready. I think he was more serious about the relationship than I was, I guess. Like, I just want some good memories and to have a good time, and I'm not just talking about sexually, either. But I kinda got the impression that he wanted to make us a long-term thing and, I mean, I'm not even out of high school yet and I haven't even gotten to college. I'm just not ready for that with him. So, for now, we're kinda broken up but still good friends." I took all of that in with a slow nod. Her thinking was mature, lucid and clear, I had to give her that, but it didn't give me much wiggle room. Without a boyfriend to shift her focus on, I was up shit creek without a paddle. But I wasn't sunk just yet, I told myself. "So... are you still intending to give him your virginity or are you gonna hold out just a little bit longer for another guy?" Beth shook her head distractedly. "I don't know," she said quietly. "I really don't. On the one hand, he's a nice guy and he won't mistreat me. On the other hand, I'm not really in love with him, so what would be the point, right? You and Mom always told me that, when I was ready to go down that road, I should do it with someone I love. I mean, I love him in a friend sort of way, but I'm not IN love with him, y'know?" I nodded in silent reply, kicking myself mentally in the hopes that inspiration might strike me. "I guess the jury's still out on that. But I've got time to think about it. There's a Halloween party tomorrow night and we've both agreed to go together. I guess I'll make my decision then." "Hmm," I ruminated out loud. "Well, it's been my experience that hasty decisions are often times the ones with the biggest consequences. If I were you, I'd start thinking about it seriously now and make your decision before he picks you up tomorrow. He IS picking you up, isn't he?" "Yep," she said. "Eight o'clock. The party starts at nine, so we'll have an hour to grab something to eat." Again, I nodded. "Well, if you decide that tomorrow's the night, just make sure you bring protection, all right?" Inwardly I was heaving a massive sigh of relief, almost certain now that I was nudging her gently enough in his direction that I would be safe from her hormonal onslaught. "Pfft!" Beth said derisively. "Dad, I've been on birth control for, like, two years now. Remember?" "Ah," I said flatly. She was right: I was the one who'd taken her to the doctor to get the pills. "Right. Forgot about that. Okay, fine, but I'd still like you to use a condom- where sex is concerned, getting pregnant is only ONE of the serious things to avoid. You copy?" Beth chuckled lightly. "Roger, Dad. I copy. So... I'm thinking that I'll get myself an omelet. What about you?" I smiled wolfishly. "Pancakes, definitely. I've been craving pancakes like you wouldn't believe. The stuff they make us eat at the DFAC couldn't pass as breakfast to a starving man." Beth laughed at that. "Is it really that bad?" she asked. I shrugged. "No, not really. I mean, yeah, the breakfasts kind of suck out there, but the dinners are actually pretty good, most of the time. It's a lot of hit-or-miss, really. And everybody's tastes vary. Some guys like certain meals that others might hate. But, for the most part, pretty much everyone agrees that powdered eggs are the Army's curse for signing up." "Powdered eggs?" Beth said with disgust. "Really? That actually make you eat that stuff. Ew!" "Yeah. It's especially nasty when they get the water mix ratios wrong. And they always do. It's either too thin or too thick and, either way, it tastes awful. No amount of salt or pepper can convince your taste buds that what you're eating is even remotely related to eggs." "I wonder what they make that stuff out of, anyway?" she mused. "I haven't a clue," I said, "but if they REALLY want to make the enemy suffer, they'd force-feed detainees powdered eggs every day for a month. Best torture device ever." With that my daughter roared with laughter, the subject of sex and boys totally forgotten. The resultant conversation shifted and swayed all over the map, but the topic of sex didn't come up again. We quickly fell into our normal routine as a father and daughter and all the tension was gone, which was a great relief to me. We thoroughly enjoyed each other's company and conversation during the rest of the car ride to the restaurant, while we waited for seating and all the way up until the waitress asked us for our orders. When the waitress appeared at our table, her order pad in hand, I indicated that Beth should go first, since she was the birthday girl and a lady. Beth blushed a little at that and glanced up and down the menu a final time. "Ummmm, well," she said slowly, "I'm definitely in the mood for some-" and she lowered the menu just enough to catch my gaze and tapped my leg with her foot- "sausage and eggs. So I'll have a sausage and cheese omelet, please. Toast and grits on the side. And orange juice to drink." When the waitress turned to me, waiting for my order, she found herself waiting a little longer than expected as I was just sitting there, looking at my daughter with a dumbstruck look on my face. Holy shit, I thought to myself, she is fucking goooooood! I totally didn't not see that little jab coming. The waitress prompted me again and I shook myself out of the mental fog I was in. "Oh! Pardon me, my mind was somewhere else-" "He's on Leave from Afghanistan," my daughter explained helpfully, though she knew full well that wasn't why I'd had a train-of-thought-wreck. "Oh, wonderful!" the waitress replied. "Active military on Leave get one free meal! Order whatever you'd like, sir. We appreciate your service." "Uh, wow," I stammered, collecting my wits about me. "Thank you. Uhm, yeah, okay. I'll have some pancakes, please. Banana pancakes with strawberry sauce, two sausage links and some toast. Iced tea to drink, please." The waitress scribbled my order down on her pad while I shot a vindictive glare at my daughter's twinkling, playful eyes. The waitress quickly trotted off to place our orders to get our drinks. "That," I told my daughter, "was sneaky." Beth flashed an impish grin at me. "I learned from the best," she said. "Oh, c'mon, Dad. How could I resist? You all but left the door open for that one. I just walked through it, that's all. Besides, it's not like anyone else but you and me would have a clue what I meant." I rolled my eyes and shook my head at her. "But that's just the point, Sweetheart," I told her. "I DO have a clue what you meant. I knew EXACTLY what you meant. And I have to make this absolutely clear right here and now: stop. Okay?" Beth blinked her eyes at me in mock innocence. "Stop what, Dad?" "Stop flirting with me," I said in a hushed whisper so that none of the other patrons would hear me. "You're playing with fire. I love you and I am MORE than happy to talk openly with you about anything under the sun, but there's a line and you can't cross it." "I'm not crossing anything, Dad," she said plaintively. "Well, I AM crossing my legs, but if you'd like me to stop doing that for you, just say the word and I'll uncross my legs for you in no time flat." My jaw dropped open to form a perfect "O" and I just stared at her in total shock at her brazenness, stricken completely speechless for the first time in years. But Beth just burst out with laughter and pointed at me. "Oh, man, Dad, you should see yourself right now! Oh, MAN, did I get you good! God, that was priceless. DEFINITELY worth the price of admission, just to see the look on your face. Oh, I SO had you!" My mouth snapped shut and I leaned back hard against the seat back in total awe of my daughter. Had she just been fucking with me, trying to mess with my head and playing a joke at my expense all morning long? If so, she had definitely played me like a fiddle. "You mean... you mean that was all a game to you?" I asked with astonishment. "Of COURSE it was!" Beth replied between giggles. "God, Dad, do you really think I'd be that... what's the word-" "Forward?" "No, that's not the one I'm looking for, but that'll do. Do you really think I'd be like that out here, in the open? I was just messing with you. And look at you! You took it hook, line and sinker!"