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Substitute Wife

By: jack_straw



They say things happen the way they do for a reason, that certain factors lead to certain actions that play out in a certain way. That is certainly true in my case.

If I hadn't lost my wife and lost her in the manner that I did; if our daughter, our only child, had not been a virtual clone of her mother; if I hadn't gone nearly insane with grief; if, if, if… The bottom line is this, however: a little over a year after my wife died suddenly two years ago, my beautiful daughter and I fell into an intense sexual affair that shows no sign at all of abating. Here's the story.

This all started about three years ago, when my mother contracted lung cancer, the price of a two-pack-a-day cigarette habit. We were living at the time in the Houston area, where I had grown up. Margaret's mother, however, lived in the mountains of western Virginia. Since Margaret hated to fly, was actually afraid to fly, she had tried driving to see about her mother. She'd only done it once, and the trip nearly broke her, so she had resigned herself to flying on her frequent visits to take care of her mom. 

So it was that on a stormy April morning, Margaret got on a plane to return home from a visit to her mother and was one of 97 people killed when lightning struck the plane, causing it to lose power and go into a tumbling spiral. The stricken plane slammed into a mountain nearly nose-first and everyone on board perished. About all they ever found of Margaret that was readily identifiable was part of her jaw.

So there I was, with the love of my life suddenly taken from me and in the most awful way possible. More to the point, we were left with nothing of her. There was no body to bury, no casket, no gravesite, no headstone, no nothing. It was like – poof! – she had vanished into thin air. We did have a memorial service, but that's not the same as being able to see your beloved's body, to have some closure, to have some place to go where you could say you were visiting her shade.

Needless to say, I was lost without Margaret, and, for awhile, so was Marcie, our daughter. I had lost my best friend and lover; Marcie had lost her closest friend and confidante. You have to understand, Margaret and I had one of the great love affairs anyone could have. I'd met her our freshman year of college, at the University of Texas, when we had a class together. I was captivated by her long, silky dark brown hair, her pixyish looks, her deep blue eyes, her intelligence, her long slender body, and, well, just everything about her. She was from a small town in Virginia and had earned a scholarship to UT to major in journalism. She'd tried to get in to Missouri, reputed to be the best J-school in the country, but they weren't forthcoming with a scholarship, while UT was, for which I was forever grateful to my alma mater. Her folks were lower middle class folks, so getting someone else to pay for her college was crucial.

Since I'd grown up in the big city, while she was a small-town girl, I should have been the sophisticated one and her the naïve one, but the first time we slept together, after we'd been dating about four months, she showed me some things I didn't think supposedly nice, small-town girls did. We'd spent the whole weekend in my dorm room fucking our brains out, and from that point on, with the notable exception of a three-month period in our junior year, we'd been a pair. Mike and Margaret; we were inseparable, except, as I said, for the three months we'd separated.

Those three months apart had cemented our love. We'd been bickering a little bit, and finally we agreed to separate for a time to see what the rest of the world had to offer. It was the most miserable period in my life, until Margaret's death. I moped, I whined, I drank (a lot), I smoked a lot of dope and just generally made a complete nuisance of myself.

Apparently, Margaret felt the same way, because when I finally decided enough was enough and called her for a date, she practically tripped all over herself saying yes. We picked up where we'd left off, and were never apart for the rest of her life. I had supposedly majored in political science with a minor in public administration, but my real interests in college had been Margaret and partying. So when we graduated in 1977, she was the one with the career opportunities while I ended up getting an industrial job. Margaret got a job right out of college at a small-town newspaper and I went to work for the local industry as an office clerk. We shacked up together for a year before getting married in '78. 

We didn't even think about having kids for the first three years of our marriage, then we tried for a year before Margaret became pregnant. It was a very difficult pregnancy, and it was touch and go whether the baby would make it. Thanks to superb medical care, we made it, but Marcie still had to be taken by cesarean section five weeks early in 1983. Although I wanted at least one more child, Margaret was adamant that she was not going through another ordeal like that again, and I reluctantly agreed. So Marcie became an only child, truly beloved by both of us.

It didn't take long to realize that she was her mother's child in every way. She had the same color hair, the same build, the same good looks, the same quick wit, the same intelligence, the same everything. Many times, only children grow up spoiled, but Marcie was definitely not spoiled. She was expected to help around the house and to act respectfully around others. All parents say their children are perfect angels, but Marcie really is an angel. She's got a sweet disposition, a loving nature and a very level head, something else she inherited from her mother. Margaret and I weren't necessarily against corporal punishment, but we'd only had to spank Marcie once, when she was about 8 or 9. She'd told us she was going to one friend's house and ended up at another's without telling us. Other than that, we could discipline her just by talking crossly to her. She wanted so much to please that it crushed her when we fussed at her.

Eventually, I landed a job in Houston as a buyer for a company that supplies valves for refineries, pipelines and oil fields; Margaret landed a nice job in the features department at the Houston Post. That lasted until the early '90s, when she decided to leave newspapering to become a full-time mom and a freelance writer. Actually, she saw earlier than most the writing on the wall for the Post, which ceased publishing in the mid-'90s. Freelancing enabled Margaret to work at home to bring in some extra money and keep her skills sharp. She sold stories to newspapers around the state and magazine articles, mostly on cultural events around Houston. We had a nice, fairly new house that we'd moved into in a suburb southeast of the Houston city limits. It was a good, comfortable life that we'd had until that awful day when Margaret's plane fell from the sky.

My boss generously gave me a month off to grieve; I was back at work within a week. Pacing an empty house full of memories about drove me crazy, and work was the only thing I knew that could take my mind off my misery. So I clamped a lid tightly on my emotions and tried to resume a normal life. I knew I had to be strong for my daughter. But it wasn't nearly the same. I'd get up, drive to work, plunge myself into the job, drive home, eat a dinner that Marcie had fixed, suck down four or five beers to numb myself, then crawl off to bed.

I did this like a robot just about every weekday, day after day for a year. I couldn't even look at other women, let alone date anybody; in fact, it was six months before I could even bring myself to masturbate, then I'd feel overcome with guilt. On weekends, Marcie and I would go to ball games or concerts or little weekend trips, anything to get out of the house. Oh, and we took a long trip to Virginia – we drove it – in October when Margaret's mom passed away. 

It was around Christmas that year that I could sense a subtle change in my relationship with Marcie. Margaret's life insurance had paid off handsomely, so we had the money to take a long trip to Colorado to go skiing. Neither one of us was up to celebrating the holiday at home and we had both enjoyed skiing the times we'd been before. It had actually been Marcie's idea to take the trip. I guess it's the resiliency of the young, because Marcie returned to something like normality fairly quickly. It was her senior year of high school, and she'd thrown herself into school and activities. But her social life wasn't much to speak of; I found out later that she had consistently turned down dates with the excuse that she needed to be there for me. She did go out with some girl friends every now and then, but between schoolwork, playing on the school basketball team and tending to the house (and me), she didn't have much time for a social life.

I guess I should have seen it coming, but I was oblivious to everything except my own grief and the strict life schedule that I kept like an automaton. But I did notice when we spent two weeks together in a two-bedroom condo at Vail, that my baby had grown up. Maybe it was the maturity that came with dealing with such a horrific event, but I began to notice that Marcie carried herself a little differently, especially around me. She walked with more self-assurance; she began grabbing my arm, patting me on the back, sitting close to me on the couch. We'd always been a touchy-feely family, with lots of hugs and kisses, and, even in my grieving fog, I realized that she was filling out, that her body was finally catching up with her coltish legs and slender figure. And I certainly couldn't help but notice that with her nearly waist-length, dark brown hair and her fuller figure, she looked exactly like the woman I'd fallen in love with 27 years earlier.

Because it was just the two of us, we weren't as concerned about modesty as we would have been if Margaret had still been alive. Soon, we got used to seeing each other in our underwear or in baggy nightclothes, and sometime after our return from Vail, I began to have erotic dreams about fucking Marcie. I'd wake up after one of these dreams in a cold sweat, thinking that I was the lowest scum on earth to be having these thoughts and dreams about my precious little girl. In fact, I could sense myself sinking deeper and deeper into despair and depression, with no way out. For the first time in my life, I seriously considered suicide, but I knew I could never leave Marcie like that. But I was drinking a lot of beer and generally letting myself go to pot.

So, I was a first-class basket case as the first anniversary of Margaret's death came around. They say one must have some sort of catharsis to purge oneself of bitterness and grief, but I'd been raised in a home with a tough-minded father who had a military background and three brothers, two of whom were older, and it was an unspoken rule in our house that big boys didn't cry. Period. They just didn't do it. Maybe if I had, what happened wouldn't have happened. But I didn't have much time to dwell on the awful date, because Marcie's graduation was approaching, along with the attendant events. It was a bittersweet affair. I was proud of my girl – she graduated cum laude – but I was sad that her mother wasn't there to see it.

It was three weeks after commencement that everything came to a head. Margaret's and my wedding anniversary was approaching, a date I was dreading. Marcie had been acting a little odd lately, nothing suggestive, just … odd. For one thing, she still had not decided on where she wanted to go to college. Money was no object; we'd started a college fund very early in Marcie's life, and the insurance also added to it. With her grades and her high ACT score, she could've gone anywhere she wanted, but she was torn. She had several schools that she was interested in, but she couldn't seem to make up her mind. It was as if she was waiting for something, some sign that would point her in the right direction. This was so uncharacteristic of her that I even noticed it. Like her mother, Marcie had always been sure of everything she'd wanted to do with her life. So this indecision on such an important issue, this late in the game, was baffling.

Two days before the date of our anniversary, which would fall on a Saturday, Marcie bounced into the kitchen after dinner and announced that we were going out Saturday night to celebrate my wedding anniversary. I objected at first, arguing that remembering and celebrating that wonderful event would be too painful, but she would have none of it. "Daddy, you need to get out of the house," she insisted. "You need to go on a date, and since you don't seem interested in dating other women, I guess I'll have to be your date." She said this with almost a mischievous twinkle in her eye, and I noted in passing that Marcie's tits were bouncing freely under her t-shirt. 

But then she turned serious as she sat on the couch and snuggled up close to me. She put her arms around me and I put an arm around her shoulders to draw her close. "Daddy," she said in a soft voice. "It's been over a year. I know how much you loved Mom; I loved her just as much. But life goes on. You're still a fairly young, handsome man and you need to let it go. Daddy, I love you so much, and it just breaks my heart to see you waste away like this. You used to be so much fun, so full of life. I want that man back, and I'll do anything – anything – to get him back."

It didn't occur to me right about then what she might have meant by "anything," but there was no mistaking the warmth of her young body pressed close to mine, and I could feel my groin begin to tighten. I cursed myself inside for reacting like this to my own daughter, but it had been so long since I'd been with a woman.

So I agreed to take my daughter out to a fine restaurant and maybe do some dancing on Saturday night. At Marcie's insistence, I got a haircut – I'd let my hair grow pretty long – and we went shopping at the Galleria for new outfits. She helped me pick out a nice summer suit, but she wouldn't let me see what she'd bought. She said she wanted it to be a surprise. And boy was it a surprise. I'd been dressed about a half-hour, and was getting a little impatient, when Marcie descended the staircase. I couldn't believe it. The dress she'd bought was a sexy little number, a tight-fitting black mini-skirt of a satiny material with spaghetti straps. It had a plunging neckline that revealed an ample amount of cleavage and dipped low in the back, making it obvious that she wasn't wearing a bra.

I should say at this point that neither Margaret nor Marcie was what you would call well endowed in the breast department. Margaret's tits had gotten fuller as the years passed, but she still never wore larger that a 36C cup, and Marcie had, I would guess, about a 34 or 36B. That was OK with me. I always subscribed to the philosophy that more than a handful was a waste, and I was always more than happy with Margaret's tits, especially her super-sensitive nipples. And Marcie's nipples were sticking up through the material of her dress, almost like she was aroused. A pair of black stockings and high heels complemented Marcie's outfit. Her hair had been brushed to a silky sheen and her makeup was tastefully done. I have to say, she looked ravishing, and I could feel myself stirring in my groin, in spite of myself.

Remember, I hadn't had sex since Margaret's death, and I still didn't jack off much, usually because I'd had too many beers most nights. In fact, it had been almost a month since I'd done anything at all sexual. But now I could feel the familiar tingling at the sight of my lovely daughter, and not for the first time, wondered again what she'd meant by "anything." Lord, I was so confused as we drove to the restaurant. Part of me wanted to take this supremely sexy creature and fuck the absolute dog shit out of her, and the other part recoiled at the thought. I just didn't know what to do. As it turned out, I didn't have to do anything.

We ate at the finest Italian restaurant in Houston, a place we'd never been before. Marcie had made the reservations and it was immediately apparent that she had inherited her mother's taste in fine dining. Margaret's mother had been full-blooded Italian, and we'd always had an enormous taste for Mediterranean cuisine. Moreover, the place had a very romantic feel to it, with soft lighting, crisp white tablecloths, candles on the table, the works. We bought a bottle of fine white wine and I let her have a couple of glasses, even though she wasn't legal to drink, having turned 18 just a few months before.

Throughout dinner, I kept looking across the table at Marcie, and she kept her gaze on me. The way she looked at me unnerved me. There was the playful hint of seduction in her big blue eyes, and we talked about life and what she wanted to do with hers. Maybe it was the wine, but we both began to feel a little bold. On impulse, Marcie started asking questions about sex, about things Margaret and I had done in bed. Normally, I would have swiftly, maybe angrily, changed the subject. But I was too mellow and was enjoying the evening too much to chastise my girl. And soon I found myself telling Marcie about some of our married exploits, and I could see her eyes light up more and more, the more I talked. Then it was my turn to ask her a serious question. 

"I hope you don't take offense at this, but I'd like to know if you've ever been intimate with any of the boys at school," I asked. "I'm not being judgmental, but as your father I think I should know, just in case." I knew she had never had a serious boyfriend, but, well, you never know about kids.

Marcie just crinkled up her nose in distaste. "All the guys at school are such boys," she replied. "All they're interested in is a wham, bam, thank you ma'am relationship. I want to give myself to a man, a real man, someone who knows how to make love to a woman and can teach me what I need to know in a leisurely, loving way." And she fixed me with a level stare that completely discombobulated me. Because it was at that moment that I knew, really knew, what was up.

I slowly shook my head as I became aware that Marcie wanted me to be her first. "We can't," I said softly. "I'm your father. It's not right."

"Daddy, I love you more than anyone in this whole world," she answered in an equally soft voice. "You need a woman and I need a man. You need someone to take Mom's place, and who better than me, the person who loves you more than life itself, the person who more closely resembles Mom than anyone else. Daddy, I couldn't have gotten through this past year without you. You've been my pillar of strength, and now you need me. I can see the pain you're in, and it saddens me. I told you, I want my old Daddy back, and I'll do anything to get him back."

And as she spoke I felt her stockinged toe run up my calf. I couldn't help myself; I got a raging hard-on like I hadn't had in months. "You're sure about this," I said. "I've never been more sure of anything in my life," she whispered. "I love you Daddy, and I want to give you the most precious gift I can give. I want you to take my virginity, to teach me how to be a woman. I know I can never replace Mom, but I can try. I want to try. Do it for me; do it for her; do it for yourself. You need me, and I need you."

Marcie took my hand in hers and suddenly it just felt right. I was in a daze as we paid the bill, and went to the car. As soon as the door closed, we were on each other. I pulled her to me and we kissed, not as father and daughter, but as new lovers, with wide-open mouths and dancing tongues. The idea that we might go dancing went out the window right then. We might dance, all right, but it would be the dance of love, played out in my bedroom. When we broke our embrace, I looked Marcie up and down. "God, you are so beautiful," I said. "I hope you understand, I might not be too gentle. It has been so long." "Don't worry, Daddy, I know you won't hurt me," she replied. "I even got myself on the pill, so you can fuck me properly and put your cum where it belongs without worrying about getting me pregnant."


Substitute Wife



He smelt her before he saw her. The enticing aroma of her Euphoria perfume that he had given to her the previous year for her birthday, coupled with her alluring natural scent, travelled down the hallway from her bedroom and greeted him warmly at the dinner table where he sat enjoying the breakfast she had made for him. He paused before taking another bite into his bacon, egg and cheese sandwich and looked up expectantly as she made her way from her room to the kitchen. 

Edward completely understood the fact that Erica was his daughter, and it was morally, socially and traditionally wrong to be thinking about her the way that he had, and as an attorney, he could quote every piece of legislation in his jurisdiction which spoke against incest, but it was an undeniable fact that she was stunningly beautiful and desirable in every way imaginable, making him want her in a way that he had not longed for any woman in years. He constantly reprimanded himself by reminding himself that he was married to Erica's mother, and it was she who he desired; however, he knew that this was nothing but a lie. Ever since his wife Jennifer had accepted a promotion at her job and was required to spend more time abroad than she spent at home, Edward had found himself becoming less and less attracted to her. 

From the time Erica assumed housewife duties by cooking, cleaning and taking care of him, he had realised that she was beginning to unknowingly tug on his heart and pull it towards her direction. He tried to ignore his desire for her by becoming more involved at work and taking on more clients and cases, but as soon as he thought things were becoming better; his daughter had passed the bar and was looking for a job. Tons of applications later, she had landed herself at the law firm where he worked. He had already known that she was beautiful and extremely intelligent, but seeing her in the work setting with the professionalism that she exudes, and being even more aware of her competence and her aptitude by which she handles her clients and cases, he became tempted more and more to break the law.

Just then, Erica emerged in the doorway and as usual she did not disappoint. Edward's eyes quickly examined her curvaceous body which was accentuated by her work clothes. He noticed the way her black pencil knee-length skirt hugged her hips and revealed the secret of her well shaped behind. The behind that he was so often tempted to touch. Not only to touch, but to grab as he pulled her closer to him while they made love. The red tank top she wore tucked into her skirt left little secrets about the fullness of her breast unanswered.

"Are you enjoying your breakfast?" she asked as she took a seat at the side of the table; at a right angle from where he sat, and raising her skirt slightly, pulled one leg up, and then the other so that she could comfortably put on her black stilettos.

"Yes darling," he replied as he failed in his attempt to keep his eyes away from her. From the position they were both in, he could only receive a hint of her white underwear as she pulled on her shoes. However, that hint was enough to awaken arousal within him, and to increase his desire for more.

"I'm sorry I'm not able to eat with you." She hurriedly jumped to her feet and grabbed her matching black jacket from the back of the chair and slid her arms in. "I have to go."

"But why?" Edward checked his watch. "You're almost an hour early. Aren't you going to wait on me so we can go together?"

"I wish I could, but I really need to start going." She took up her brief case and turned away, giving him a full view of her round behind.

She had absolutely no idea how badly he wanted to bend her over the dining room table, hoist her skirt, remove her underwear and fuck her brains out. He would spank and grab her ass as she screamed "daddy".

"Honey, come back here". He fought to keep his voice calm. "Sit down."

"I can't," she hardly even turned around. "It's the Smith's case..."

"I don't care," he stood to his feet and guided her back to the table. "You hardly ever take time for yourself. Everyday you're working on that damn case. You need to relax."

"But daddy!" she yelled defiantly. "Right now I don't care about relaxing. I have the strangest feeling that I am doing something wrong and I need to do some more research!"

"I don't care," he said simply to prod at her anger. "Sit down!"

"Will you ever listen to me?" She continued stubbornly. "I told you that I need to go..."

The rest of her words trailed off in his mind. He watched her with a peak in his interest and desire. She had always been so stubborn, but he loved it. He thought it made her even more attractive, and he was tempted to grab her and kiss her passionately and silence her.

"You're beautiful," He whispered as he stared into her fury filled eyes.

"What?" She said a little more quietly as the fury began to visibly dissipate.

"You're beautiful," he repeated. "I love you."

"Uhh," she looked surprised. "I... love... you too, dad?" Her statement curved into a question as her anger was replaced with confusion.

He knew that she had no idea of how he meant it, but he decided to leave it at that. The feeling was scaring even him, but he seriously felt as if he was feeling something more for her... Something more than he should be feeling for a daughter. He could not distinguish whether it was an emotional desire or simply a sexual thirst for her which he needed quenched, but he wanted to find out, even though he had no idea how to.

"I just don't want you to be worrying yourself too much," he decided to say. "Just relax for me, please?"

"I will," she reassured him and then she turned to walk away.

He watched her as she walked through the door, admiring her ass and her walk as she did so. They are so many things a man can tell from a female's walk and the way she carries herself. He could tell that she has never been made love too properly, or in the way she deserves to be. He noticed that she had never encountered a man who really took the time to appreciate her body. It was not before she disappeared at the other side of the door that he finished his breakfast before getting ready for work.

He had decided that it was only by taking it slowly and by luring her towards him that he would get close to what he wanted. It did not take a genius or past experiences to tell him that it is almost impossible to grab his daughter's attention by doing the same exact things he would do for any other girl. Almost anything he does would probably scare her away, or turn the law against him, and that was the last thing he needed. How would it look; an attorney at law being arrested for sexually assaulting his daughter?! He most definitely could not have that happening. This means that he would have to try much harder. With just a few things in mind, Edward decided to start working on it that very evening.

After an extremely long day in which he was unknowingly tempted and excited by his daughter, as he watched her around the office studiously and intently looking through her files, flicking back her hair which she always wore hanging loose, or walking skilfully in her heels with her hips seductively swaying as she entered and exited offices, or even bending to the file cabinet as she retrieved some information to help her with her case, he was ready to have his problem solved. He had it all planned out, but even though he was known for being good at planning things and often thanked by the success of the events, he was extremely nervous because he was completely unsure to how this one would turn out.

"I want to take care of you tonight," He told Erica as they entered the house. "I don't think you take care of yourself well enough, so let me. You really need to relax."

"And how exactly do you plan on doing this, dad?" She stopped walking and looked him directly in the eye.

"After dinner we're going to watch a movie, or maybe talk. I know a lot of stuff must be bothering you." He was having difficulties looking her back in the eye especially knowing exactly what his intentions were, so he played it off by keeping himself busy by taking off his jacket and shoes.

"Ok, well, I guess a movie and conversation it is then," she said as she walked away.

As it turned out, there was no movie which Erica was interested in so they decided to simply sit and talk. Pouring two glasses of red wine, Edward took a seat beside his daughter and handed her a glass.

"So tell me about your day," he began. "I know you encountered another concrete wall in the case."

"Yes," she began and then sipped her wine. "Just when I believed that we were going to get a breakthrough in the case, the other guy brought in a report from a psychologist diagnosing him with some mental condition of the sort! I mean what am I suppose to do now? I have been working on this so long!"

Edward sat there in silence simply listening to Erica as she rambled on about her job. Taking her free hand in his, he held it there for a while as he watched her go on and on about her day. Then, he slid his fingers to the inner side of her wrist and gently stroked his middle three fingers along it, being careful to keep the stroking in one direction. He continued to watch her and noticed as she subconsciously leaned a little closer to him and presented more of her hand to him. Taking this as a welcoming sign, Edward gently slid his fingers further up her arm and continued the soft caressing.

"But you don't understand," she started to raise her voice slightly as she rested her head on his shoulder. "I need to do this right, there's a child caught up in the middle..."

"Shhh," he said as he buried his face in her hair, taking in the beautiful vanilla scent of her hair products. Putting down his wine glass, his other hand became free. He then started to gently caress her knee as well, slowly making his way to her inner thigh and back. Her thighs parted slightly and he seductively slid his fingers halfway up her thigh and back down.

"What would you do... if you were in my position?" Her breath caught in the middle of her question and this simple result reassured him and told him that he was doing something right.

"If I was in your position," he removed his hand from her wrist and began to caress her face, "I would try to relax before going back to it."

"But how am I to relax?" She lifted her head from his shoulder to sip her wine, and he took this opportunity to nuzzle his nose up and down her neck as his hand slid higher up her thigh.

"Sip some more wine," he whispered and she obeyed by taking a little more than just a sip. "You are way more beautiful when you are relaxed. Do you know that?"

"Hmmmm," was all she could say as she snuggled closer to him causing his arousal to grow even more.

Not being able to contain himself much more, he gently took her chin in his hand and kissed her gently on the lips. She seemed hesitant at first, but as she seemed to have given into her subconscious, she returned the kiss with twice the vitality he was offering. Taking this as a definite green light, he pulled her in closer, and wrapping his hand around her, he began to caress her lower back as their tongues were introduced to each other for the first time. Erica was extremely encouraging as she slipped her hand underneath his t-shirt and gently slid it up and down his back. His cock was almost standing at attention in his sweatpants as she pulled him even closer to her. It was as if they just could not be close enough to each other.

Carefully pulling her onto his lap, Edward deepened the kiss, enjoying the sweet taste of her tongue as she innocently navigated her tongue around his. In an attempt to become more comfortable, she wriggled a little in his lap, but stiffened as soon as she accidentally encountered his hardened anxiously waiting member. For a second, it had appeared as if she was going to abandon her current actions and leave, but at second thoughts, she placed her legs at either side of him, almost in a kneeling position and continued kissing him.

From this angle, Edward could reach her butt that he had been longing to touch for such a long time. Sliding his right hand down her side and slowly over her hips, he led it to her butt which he simply touched for a while; feeling and examining it intently like a blind man trying to pull out every single detail. As he always guessed, it was perfect. Well rounded and just as tempting as the rest of her body. Grabbing it, he pulled her lower body even closer as he started to trail kisses down her neck. Her breaths were detached and coming heavily and it was becoming even clearer that she was aroused. His lips began to dip even lower and he started planted kisses and tiny nibbles down her shoulder and upper chest. Her hips were slowly gyrating now, slight tiny movements that were driving him crazy. He could hardly take it anymore, but he knew that he should not rush things.

Turning her only a little to a side, he continued his kisses down her chest and along the neck of her tank top. Her hand was in his hair now, stroking his hair and down his neck an around his ears, while the other was buried under his shirt and caressing his chest and gently stroking his left nipple. He was completely aware that his breaths were as shuddered as hers were, and he was almost too aware of his throbbing cock which stood there begging for attention, but he was still set on taking things slowly. He reminded himself over and over that it was his daughter he was dealing with; a nice, intelligent, beautiful and desirable girl, not any ordinary girl, and therefore he needed to take care of her.

His hand found her hardened nipple outside of the shirt and rubbed it softly enjoying the sounds of her tiny moans. He squeezed it lightly and was rewarded by her moving his hand, only to place it underneath her shirt. He paused only to pull her shirt completely off, and then resume his rubbing and squeezing. It was not long before he placed her to lie in the couch, and getting between her legs, he began to suck on her nipple while his hands continued to play with the other. His tongue lashed and licked the tiny bud between his lips, causing her to arch her hips as if to beg for more, but even though he was extremely turned on, he would have none of it.

Finally, his hand made its way underneath her skirt which he hoisted to expose her white underwear. He wasted no time with it though, pulling it off, he revealed a neatly shaven pussy which stood there, lips slightly parted and already glistening from her leaking juices. Trying the waters, he inserted one finger. She was wet. She was soaked. He knew that if he was to make love to her that very second, even though her vagina was still hardly touched, his cock would be able to slide right in without any problems, but he wanted to taste her first. He wanted to sample the wonderful cuisine of his daughter.

Turning her slightly, he slid down to his knees and wrapped her legs around his neck; however, just as he was about to bury his face in her pussy, she grabbed his head and started to push him away.

"Stop!" She was still panting. It was clear that this took a lot of effort to do. "Please stop."

He could not believe what he was hearing! He was aroused beyond return, and she was almost as wet as Niagara Falls, and she was begging him to stop.

"What's the matter, honey?" He asked politely. He knew however, that he could not stop. There was one thing in his mind, and that was his goal for the night. He was going to slide his cock into her beautiful pussy and fuck her. He wanted to fuck her until she needed him more than ever. Fuck her until she became so hooked on him that she would never be able to say 'no' to him again. He wanted it, and he knew she wanted it to, so what was the problem?

"We can't do this." She tried to sit up, but he gently held her down.

"And why is that, honey?" His voice was low and seductive.

She hesitated for just a bit. "You are my father. This is wrong."

"Oh, is it now?" He planted a kiss on her belly. "Don't you want me?"

"Of course I do. You know it." Desire made it difficult for her to talk. "But, it's legally and morally wrong."

"Is that so," he started to kiss inside of her thighs. "What is that you use to quote from 'Hamlet'? "Nothing either good or bad, but thinking makes it so"? Is that it?"

"Yes," her hips restarted her gyration again. "But the law!"

"Yes, I know the law, honey. I've been an attorney longer than you have." He nibbled on her inner thigh a bit. "Sections 10 and 11 of the "Sexual Offences Act"."

"But," her hand grabbed the cushions of the chair as she struggled to control herself.

"No 'buts' honey, just listen to your body." He slid his hands up and down her body, tenderly brushing over her breast as he did so. "We are both consenting adults. We know what we are doing. Who is to judge us if no one knows?"

"Yes, I guess so." She ran her fingers through his hair in resolve.

"Good," he kissed her passionately on the lips, allowing their tongues to reunite. "Now relax". He trailed tiny kisses down her neck, chest, breast, and belly and down to her vagina which was even wetter from anticipation.

Wrapping her legs around his neck again, he was finally able to bury his face in her pussy as he licked and flicked her clit which stood erect, so swollen that not even its shelter could contain it. He nibbled and sucked on her clit, completely enjoying her response as she buckled her hips and grabbed his hair. Wanting to tease her just a little longer, he licked and kissed her labia and all around the clit before plunging his tongue into her vagina. Her moans were becoming even louder, and he knew exactly what to do to bring her to her release. Returning to her clit, he began to lick and lash it repeatedly while he slid one finger into her vagina. Her hips rotated and buckled to the rhythm he created as she begged him not to stop. He did stop though.

Lying on the floor, he pulled a complaining Erica towards him and made her sit on his face. There, he returned to the nibbling of her labia while she frantically gyrated and grabbed everything in her reach.

"I can't... Take... It... Anymore!" She cried as she started to pull at her nipples. "Please! Please!"

He complied this time. Returning his attention to her clit, and quickly pushing a finger in and out of her, he brought her to a massive climax. He licked and swallowed her wonderful sweet-tasting juice. Completely enjoying the taste of her cuisine. Exhausted from her body rupturing orgasm, Erica collapsed on the floor beside him, but he could not allow her to relax. It was his turn to reach an orgasm. He had waited too long, and he was ready for it.

Placing her to bend over the couch, face down, ass up and knees parted, he dropped his pants and boxer to the ground, and directing his cock to her vagina, he started to put it in. Although he was aroused and ready beyond turning back and almost out of his control, he waited for her response. She pushed her hips back a little to meet him, and seeing this as a signal of it being alright, he thrust completely into her. She yelped a little at first, but then her pain dissolved into pleasure as her muffled moans were heard and the rhythm of her hips matched his.

He thrust in and out of her, grabbing and spanking her big rounded ass as he did so. Too soon, he felt his orgasm build up within him, and he slowed his pace to make it last longer. With one hand secured around her hips to control her and pull her hips into him, he allowed his other hand to travel up her body and to her right breast which he rubbed and squeeze tenderly.

"Oh... my... gosh daddy!" She screamed. "Fuck me! I'm going... to... come!"

This got him going again and he quickened his pace.




Substitute Wife



"Wait honey," He grunted. "Wait on me. I'm coming... Soon."

Moving the hand from her breast, he inserted his thumb into her butt to intensify the pleasure; pulling it in and out at the same rhythm he was going at.

It was not long before her legs started shaking franticly and she grabbed the cushion tighter as her vagina muscles clutched around his swelling member buried within her. With that, her body erupted into an orgasm, bringing him to his. He moaned and grunted as he pumped three final times, planting his seed into her womb.

They both collapsed then; he on the floor and she on top of him. For a few moments they simply laid there, breathless and satisfied.

"I'm glad you didn't listen to me," She finally said. "I think that's the best experience I've ever had."

"I'm glad too," He smiled. "I love pleasuring you."

She kissed him hungrily as she grabbed his deflated member in her hand.

"I want you in me again," She whispered and then lowered her mouth to his cock and lick the head gingerly. "I like the taste, it's kind of sweet."

She took the head into her mouth and began to suck it hard, waking it back up as she did so. Placing one hand at the base, she took more of his swelling cock into her mouth and began to create a rhythm with her mouth and hand as she completely woke his cock up. He grabbed her hair and began to control her head to urge her to take more in her mouth, but she pulled away.

"I think you're ready for me now," she said climbing on top of him. "I want to go long and slow."

"That is absolutely no problem," He replied directing her to sit on his now completely erect cock. She complied and sliding slowly onto it, she was able to bury him into her, and then moving her hips slowly she started her own rhythm.

"Shit," she stopped suddenly with him still buried within her. "I'm not on the pill."

They stared at each other for a while, several unanswered questions in the air until he finally said:

"I've always been here for you, and I always will."

Feeling a bit satisfied with his answer she started to move her hips again before stopping again. "And what about mum?"

"Right now, we're happy," he said pulling her to kiss him. "Let's live in the moment. When she gets here, we'll deal with that. For now, you are my substitute wife."



Substitute Wife



As soon as the door closed at our house, we embraced and kissed for a long time, our hands running up and down each other's body. Then Marcie maneuvered me into a chair and told me just to watch for a little while. Marcie walked upstairs for a few minutes, then returned and put on some soft music on the stereo. Marcie stood swaying in front of me, her eyes closed as if in a trance. Abruptly, she reached behind her and pulled down the zipper to her dress. When it was all the way open, she pulled the front of her dress down to reveal her perfect breasts with the stiff brown nipples that were just begging to be sucked and kissed. Then she slowly, sensually, shimmied out of the dress and stood in front of me naked except for her black silk panties and thigh-high stockings.

I was completely intoxicated by this vision of lust that stood in front of me. My dick was standing tall in my pants as Marcie sashayed to my seat. She leaned over to dangle her tits in front of my face. I cupped each one in turn, squeezing the firm flesh and lightly pinching her nipples between my thumb and index finger. Pulling her to me, I put my lips to her left nipple and sucked on the stiff bud, which swelled even more. I did the same to the other breast, sucking, licking and kissing the hot skin of her tits. 

I could feel a dull pain between my legs as my rock-hard cock throbbed in my pants. "I think there's somebody in here who needs some air," she said as she knelt down, unbuckled my belt, unbuttoned and unzipped my pants. My hard cock fairly leaped through the hole in my boxers, and Marcie took it in her hot hand and began to stroke it slowly. I groaned loudly as Marcie began to lightly jack me off. She may have been a virgin, but this girl knew what she was doing, and it was all I could do to keep from exploding right then and there. Taking her hands off my cock momentarily, Marcie pulled off my shoes and socks then resumed lightly stroking my cock.

After just a few minutes of this, I knew it was time to take this game upstairs, so I stood up, kicked my pants off, offered my daughter my arm and we went upstairs to my room. When I got upstairs, I nearly gasped in astonishment. Marcie had placed a number of candles all over the bedroom, which had the effect of bathing the room in a soft, flickering light. This was something Margaret and I did frequently to enhance a romantic mood. We held each other in the middle of the room and kissed in a smoldering way, with my cock poking between Marcie's legs. Marcie unbuttoned my shirt and threw it aside, then pulled my boxers off, and I stood there, naked in front of my daughter.

Once again, Marcie took my cock in her hand, then knelt in front of me and pressed her face to my groin. She first ran her nose up the shaft, as if inhaling my scent. "You have a beautiful cock, Daddy," Marcie whispered. I thought about asking her to call me by my first name, but then thought better of it. Somehow, the fact that we were consciously breaking one of society's most ironclad taboos made the moment far more intense. I realized that I didn't want to pretend that she was someone other than my daughter and that I was someone other than her father. In my grief-addled mind, I wanted to revel in the wickedness of this act, and apparently so did Marcie.

That was proven when Marcie ran her tongue up the underside of my cock, then back down again. Marcie licked all over my shaft as the pre-cum fluid dribbled onto her cheek. I knew what was coming next, and I steeled myself as Marcie licked the fluid off the end of my dick, then opened her mouth and sucked the head of my dick into her mouth. I'm a little above average as far as cock size, about 8 inches long and over an inch thick. It's not the biggest cock in the world, but it's far from the smallest, and Margaret had never tired of it. Right to the bitter end, she'd virtually worshipped my cock, always telling me I had the best cock anywhere. Maybe she'd been flattering me because she loved me, but whatever the reason, it always gave me an enormous sense of confidence. And that confidence had slowly been draining away from me the longer I went without my love.

Marcie ran her tongue over the head as she took more of my cock in her mouth. She got about half of it in before she started to gag, and I didn't push it, although my gut instinct was to grab this little minx's head and ram my cock down her throat as far as I could and spew my cum straight into her stomach. Marcie bobbed her head on my cock as she sucked me purposefully. Her inexperience showed, but that was more than offset by her youthful enthusiasm. As she sucked me, I could feel the cum boiling in my balls. I gazed down at the incredible sight of my daughter working my cock in her mouth, and she gazed up at me with a look that said nothing so much as total devotion.

I tried to warn Marcie that I was going to cum, but she ignored me and increased the pace of her sucking. With a growl, I grabbed the back of her head and began to stroke my cock a little bit deeper into her mouth with each thrust. "Mmmmmmm," I hummed as I approached the point of no return. Suddenly I could feel the cum explode out the end of my cock and paint Marcie's throat and mouth with my hot, creamy semen. Because it had been so long since I'd had an orgasm, the load was thick and copious, and Marcie's mouth was soon filled to the brim with my spunk, so much so that sperm ran out the corners of her mouth as I continued to fire bolts of cum into her mouth. But she managed to swallow most of it.

Finally, I was momentarily spent, and collapsed back on the bed as Marcie wiped cum off her chin with her fingers and drew it into her mouth. Then she crawled up in my arms on the bed. I say I was spent. Truth was, I was already thinking about more. "Where did you learn to suck a cock like that?" I asked. "My friend Carol gave me a sex manual she swiped from her parents," she answered. "I read through it and got some pointers, and then I just let nature take its course. I have to say, your cum tasted yummy."

Rolling over, I motioned for Marcie to lie back on the bed. I couldn't help but notice how much like her mother she was as she gazed up at me with hot, lustful eyes. Bending over her, I picked up her left leg and slowly, seductively, rolled the stocking off her leg, then I did the same thing with the other leg. I shuffled down until I was at eye level with Marcie's crotch. I noticed that the gusset of her panties was soaked with the juices of her arousal. I grabbed the crotch of her panties and pulled it tight then sawed it between her pink pussy lips, causing Marcie to gasp in pleasure. I looked up to see Marcie close her eyes and run her tongue lasciviously over her pouting lips and I felt an electric bolt run up the length of my rapidly re-growing cock.

But now that I had cum once, I was in a little better control of myself, and I wanted to make sure my baby got the maximum amount of pleasure out of this. I didn't know at the time if I'd ever get another chance to do this, and besides, I wanted to make her first time one to remember. I recalled, not too fondly, my first time, when I was 16. It had been in the back seat of my brother's car with a girl who was the noted tramp in our school. The whole thing had taken about five minutes from start to finish. I didn't want that for my precious little girl. If she was going to give me her virginity, I wanted it to be special for her.

Pulling the crotch of her panties aside, I marveled at my first view of Marcie's pussy. She had the same coral-colored pussy lips as her mother and they weren't too wide or too small. Her cunt was framed by a moderately thick bush of the same dark color as her long shiny hair. But what really riveted my attention was the heavy dew that saturated her pussy.

I started out by running my fingers through her lips, eliciting a low purr of approval, a purr that became a growl when my thumb began to circle her blood-filled clit. I kept my thumb on her clit while I slowly inserted a finger into Marcie's juicy cunt. I fingered her until I reached the barrier of skin that was her hymen, then pulled back and sensually fingered her pussy. After getting Marcie good and wet, I pulled my fingers out of her pussy and licked them off with slow licks. She tasted wonderful, with that musky flavor that spoke of complete arousal. Marcie giggled as she watched me lick my fingers clean, then moaned as I continued to dip my fingers in her pussy and lick off the juice.

I put my hands under Marcie's butt to pull her crotch closer to my face. Marcie's soft moans seemed to invite me in, but I wasn't quite ready to deliver just yet. I wanted to make Marcie cum hard on my face, so I waited to eat her out until she was squirming and rocking in lust. I ran my tongue up the inside of her thighs, one after the other, then kissed and licked her butt cheeks. 

Finally, I could stand it no more. I stuck my tongue out and lightly licked her creamy furrow. Marcie gave a sharp cry as my tongue found her clit and circled it several times, before plunging into her cunt in a frenzy of licks, kisses and sucks. I sucked her lips into my mouth almost like a small cock; I worked her clit with my lips and tongue; I stuck my tongue in her convulsing pussy as deep as I could. I was in heaven as I ate Marcie's hot pussy. Eating pussy was always one of my favorite things to do with Margaret. I could lie there for hours eating her tight, juicy pussy, bringing her to one orgasm after another, with no thought at all of my own pleasure.

"Oh, Daddy, it feels so good," Marcie panted. "Your tongue is so good in my pussy. Eat me, Daddy, eat me and make me cum." I was always known to give a pretty lady what she wanted, so I increased the pace of my sucking and was rewarded as Marcie's hips began to buck and roll in rhythm to my oral ministrations. Suddenly, with a series of sharp yips and cries, I felt Marcie's pussy flood my mouth with her juice as she tumbled over the top with her first orgasm of the night.

My face was wet with my daughter's cum juice as I climbed up over her and kissed her deeply. Marcie's deep blue eyes smoldered with lust as we gazed lovingly at each other. The ponderous weight in my groin told me that it was time to claim my prize. I got back up on my knees and reached under Marcie's butt to pull her panties off. I rolled them off her thighs then lifted her legs up in the air to pull them all the way off.

I looked down at my beautiful daughter, lying there with her legs spread in open invitation, and was almost overwhelmed by the thought that this lovely, sexy girl, soon to be a woman, was mine for the taking. But I wanted to play for a minute. I took her panties and pressed the crotch to my nose, the stuck them in my mouth and chewed them like a dog would a bone. Marcie laughed nervously at my antics. I was having more fun at that moment than I'd had in over a year, and I laughed with her, the first real laughter I'd enjoyed since Margaret's death.

But the mood quickly turned serious as Marcie fixed me with a hot look and whispered for me to, "fuck me, Daddy. Make your little girl a woman. I'm ready for it. Please, Daddy, fuck me and make me cum again." Right at that moment, I felt something like an unseen presence in the room urging me to go for it. I don't know if it was Margaret's ghost or what, but there definitely seemed to be a third person in the room.

Grasping my cock at its base, I pressed it to Marcie's boiling pussy. I ran the head of my dick through her juicy petals and circled her clit with it. A long, low moan escaped Marcie's lips as I teased her with my cock. "Pleeeeeease, Daddy, please fuck me," she begged, as she put two fingers between her legs to open her pussy up to me. "I want you in me. I want to feel your big hard cock in my hot young pussy. I'm so ready for you."

And the truth was, I was ready too. I grabbed her hips, aimed the head of my cock at Marcie's opening and pushed it past her lips. I entered her slowly, and Marcie groaned with satisfaction as she felt a dick in her cunt for the first time. When I had the first two to three inches in, I came up against Marcie's hymen. I stopped momentarily, both to give her pussy time to adjust to the size of my cock and to prepare her for what was about to happen. "This is gonna hurt a little bit, so be ready," I told her. "Oh, I don't care," she answered with almost a whimper. "I just want to feel your dick in my pussy, all the way." "OK, baby, here it comes," I said through clenched teeth. 

I backed away until just the head of my cock was embedded in Marcie's trembling pussy. Then in one long hard thrust, I pushed my hips forward, driving my cock up to and through her natural barrier and sank deep in my daughter's pussy all the way to the hilt. I thrilled as I felt her hymen rip before my phallic assault, and as I did, Marcie screamed in a combination of pain and pleasure. When I was balls-deep in Marcie's cunt, I stopped for just a second to let her pain subside. "You OK, baby?" I asked. "Ohhhh, yessss, I'm more than OK," Marcie answered in a seductive tone of voice. "You feel soooo goooood. Fuck me, Daddy. It feels wonderful." After a couple of minutes, I pulled back and began to pump my cock in slow, short strokes. I could not believe the sensation of Marcie's tight young pussy gripping my cock.

Marcie threw her head back and opened her mouth in a wordless scream from the intensely erotic feelings as I steadily fucked her. As I said, she may have been inexperienced, but she was a quick learner, and soon she was thrusting her hips upward to meet my inward thrusts. The heat of our coupling was simmering as I pushed my cock back and forth in my daughter's pussy.

Leaning over until I was resting on my elbows, I pulled Marcie in the circle of my arms and we kissed wildly, passionately, while she gripped my back, digging her nails into my back as she writhed underneath me. The contact of our sweat-slick bodies together sent little jolts up and down my spine, and our cries and moans of lust filled the room. I was getting delirious from the sensations of Marcie's hot pussy gripping my cock like a velvet vise.

My mind was a maelstrom of tumbling emotions, and black spots began to appear seemingly behind my eyes as I focused on holding back the tide of cum that was churning in my balls. At some point, I went beyond caring who it was I was fucking. More to the point, I began to lose touch with reality as I drowned myself in the wondrous pool of our shared, incestuous lust. Was I hallucinating? I could have sworn it was Margaret I was fucking. No, it was Marcie; no, it was Margaret; now it was Marcie; then it was Margaret. My mind was a steaming cauldron as reality and a dream state merged into one.

From somewhere far away I heard Marcie calling out my name in a repetitive chant. "Oh, Daddy, Daddy, Daddy. It's so good. Keep fucking me; never stop fucking me. Ohhh! Ohhh! Ohhh!" That seemed to bring me back to a semblance of reality. Panting, I asked Marcie if she was close to cumming. "I'm getting there, Daddy," she answered. "God, you are so good. C'mon, Daddy, fuck your baby hard and make her cummmmmmm!"

With an animalistic growl, I lifted myself back up, then hooked the backs of Marcie's knees with my elbows and lifted her legs up until her ass was completely off the bed and her ankles were positioned above her head. And then I really began to fuck Marcie with hard, pounding strokes. Marcie was squealing and moaning as fucked her roughly.

Without thinking, I started talking to her like I would a whore, "You like being Daddy's little fuck slut, don't you. You like having my hard cock in your cunt fucking you to oblivion, don't you. You've got a hot little pussy that was made to fuck your Daddy's big hard dick. Oh, baby, I don't want this to ever end." I was gasping now, gritting my teeth as I tried to hold my cum back. Holding it, holding it, holding it. My dick was a blur as I rammed my cock viciously in my daughter's cunt, and she was hanging right in there with me, giving as good as she was getting.

Marcie was beyond words, but was simply making unintelligible noises: gasps, cries, moans and groans. I was nearly beyond consciousness as a white light began to explode in my brain. It was Marcie who crashed over the top first. Suddenly, her body went into a series of spastic twitches and she let out a gut-wrenching cry as a thunderous orgasm roared from her smoking pussy to her brain, and she kept right on crying, screaming and moaning as another orgasm, and still another ripped through her. That did it for me. With a choking roar, I felt Niagara Falls roar all the way from the base of my spine and out the end of my cock. I exploded with a rapid-fire series of a dozen or more hard, hot cum shots as we convulsed together in a mutual orgasm.

And that was what broke the dam on my emotions, our emotions. As I kept spurting bolt after bolt of cum deep in my daughter's precious pussy, I found myself sobbing like I hadn't done since I was a boy. I cried uncontrollably as my beautiful daughter cradled my head in her hands and stroked my hair. I slumped onto her body as I wept with great heaving sobs. I cried from sadness for my lost wife; I cried in joy for the new love I'd found with my daughter; I cried the way I should have cried a year earlier. It was like a huge boil that finally gets lanced, and all the grief and bitterness flowed out of my body like pus from the wound. 

Finally, after what seemed like a lifetime, I took a deep breath and got myself somewhat under control. Still trembling and weak from the emotional catharsis, I rolled over and gathered my new love into my arms. I knew then that it was going to be all right. I was ready to live again. I knew I would still miss Margaret, but I had finally – finally – accepted that she was gone.

"I'm sorry," I said as Marcie and I held each other tight in the afterglow of one of the best sexual experiences of my life. "About what?" Marcie answered softly. "About making love to your daughter or about crying like that?" "A little of both," I answered. "You shouldn't be," she answered back. "What we just did was too beautiful not to be right. I think Mom would be pleased. She'd want us to be happy, and right now, I'm the happiest girl – er, woman – in the world. And as for your crying, that's macho bullshit about big boys not crying. It shows how sensitive you are. You're a wonderful man, Daddy, and I love you so very, very much."

After a few minutes, I got up to pee and to blow out all of the candles in the room. When I returned, Marcie was sound asleep. I stood by the bed gazing lovingly at my baby girl, who was now a woman. The soft glow of moonlight washed across her body, bathing it in the pale light. Marcie looked so peaceful lying there asleep, with her long dark hair fanning the pillow. I knew then that I'd found a substitute wife for my beloved Margaret. I knew I would love this woman as long as she would have me, and that's pretty much the way it's been.

Sometime in the middle of the night I found my dick between Marcie's legs, and just pushed it in and fucked her slowly spoon-style. The next morning, we made love again, and then spent the rest of the day fucking in every room of the house. In fact, before the day was over, I had intoduced Marcie to anal sex, which she quickly discovered she loved, just like her mother. By Sunday night, we were drained, but happy. Marcie moved into my bedroom that day, and we've been living as virtual husband and wife ever since.

That was a year ago. We talked a lot over the next week, and decided that we needed a fresh start. Marcie made up her mind to go to UT and study journalism, just like her mother, although she decided she wanted to be a sportswriter, of all things. We put the house on the market, I quit my job and we moved to Austin, where we could openly express our love without fear of prying eyes. I quit drinking, started getting back into shape and began to enjoy life again. I give all of the credit to Marcie. She saved my life and renewed my joy in living again. I still miss Margaret very much, and always will, but I can deal with it now, thanks to the love I've found with Marcie.




Substitute Wife



I don't know what the future may hold, but for now we are enjoying each other and will continue to do so for the foreseeable future.