Nothing I Won't Do

"Oh, yes!" Beth gushed happily, her eyes closed and her head rolling from shoulder to shoulder. "Oh.... Ah.... Ooooooh, yes... fuck, that feels good... oh, watch me, Dad! Watch your little girl cum! Oh, fuck, this is so hot! Mmmmmmm- ah! AH! Oh, FUCK! FUCK! OH SSSSSHIT!" I watched my daughter build herself to an orgasm on the kitchen floor, spellbound by the sight of it, until she suddenly froze, her body tense and the air in her lungs trapped in rapture. Her eyes rolled back in her head and her legs started to shake uncontrollably as her orgasm overtook her entirely. She didn't scream in the classical sense, but her mouth hung open in a silent shriek of ecstatic bliss, her body putting to proof what her vocal chords could not. It was like time had slowed down in some weird way as I watched her in the throes of climax and, almost as suddenly as it had started, it stopped. Her body relaxed like it had been a rubber band pulled taut and suddenly let go and her legs flopped to the cold tile floor like they'd been dropped there. I'd seen a woman have a strong orgasm before so I knew that she'd be okay in a moment, but I kept a very concerned and watchful eye on her until I saw that she was breathing normally and was simply blissed out of her mind. It took only a moment for her mind to reset itself and she fluttered her eyes open with a sort of awkward awe.

"Holy shit that was intense!" she gasped as she looked up at me with a huge smile on her face. "I mean, holy SHIT! I haven't cum like that in... awhile!"

I smirked down at her, glad to see that she was okay. "Feel better now?" I asked her.

Beth rolled over onto her tummy and slowly pushed herself up off the floor. When she was finally back on her feet, she looked down at her bare pussy and was clearly gratified to see that none of my cum was leaking out of her. She looked up at me with a huge smile on her face. "Are you kidding me? I feel fantastic! Jesus Christ, why doesn't everyone on Earth go to work or school after having an orgasm? What a way to start the day! Wow!" She rushed over to me and threw her arms around my neck gratefully. "God, I love you!" she cried. "Thank you thank you thank you!"

I laughingly wrapped my arms around her waist and returned the hug. "Let's see how much you'll be thanking me when you're in the delivery room, young lady. I still think you're nuts for wanting to have my child."

"Yeah," came my daughter's muffled reply as she buried her face into my neck, "but I'm your kind of crazy."

"You are at that, Babygirl. You definitely are at that."

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The rest of my Leave time was spent pretty much in that vein. We went to see a few movies and enjoyed some nice meals out, but most of our time was spent at home, alone and with each other. It wasn't a complete sex-fest, I might add. We honestly did enjoy some quiet time both together and apart. One night, when she had decided to go out with some friends her own age, I went down to Nashville and visited with some of my own friends. But when we did have sex it was, of course, always exciting. Now that we fully understood each other and there were absolutely no more secrets we became entirely uninhibited around the house. Clothes, naturally, were never worn and Beth's bedroom was used only when she needed to get dressed before going out (we kept most of her things in there on the off chance that visitors might stop by). We talked about our plans for the future and discussed our dreams at great length. In most ways, it was like nothing much had changed, but in some of the best ways the changes were very welcome.

When it came time for me to go back to Afghanistan, Beth did her best to remain supportive and strong. I could tell that it was tearing her up inside that I'd be gone again for so long, but she didn't let on. The night beforehand we'd gotten a hotel room near the airport and had fucked ourselves silly all through the night and well into the morning, so Beth's womb was almost filled to capacity with my potent seed. But knowing that this was the last time we'd be free to have sex until I returned was agony for us both. As we lay there in bed that morning, my arm holding her close to my chest while she cuddled against me, my lovely daughter gently caressed my abdomen while she ruminated about my impending departure.

"Dad?" she asked quietly. "What's it like over there?"

"What's it like?" I replied, my mind already spinning with how to describe the wretched place that I was about to go back to. "Hmm... well," I began, "it's dusty like you wouldn't believe. There's trees and shrubbery, but it's mostly barren, like a beautiful garden that's been picked clean by scavengers who left nothing behind but scraps and rocks-"

"I don't mean in the physical sense," she interjected. "I mean... I don't... I'm not asking for a geography lesson on the place. I mean, what's it like for you?"

I nodded, thin-lipped as I gave the question more thought. After a moment of silence I finally spoke. "It's lonely," I answered. "Every little thing that we take for granted here is missed out there. No flushing toilets, no opportunities to just get in a car and drive around. No movie theaters or restaurants that are worth a damn. No television or radio stations, at least none that speak English or, the ones that do, none that are worth listening to. No convenience stores or people running around and doing their own thing, so completely engrossed in their own lives that they forget that there's a war going on, surrounded by people who only think about 'the mission' or the jobs that they have to do. Down time there isn't really down time so much as it is a sort of break between shifts and work. And you're on the job twenty-four hours a day, neverminding the fact that there are people out past the wire who're trying to kill you for taking away their power and influence. But, most of all, the people you really love aren't around to constantly remind you of exactly why you're doing this whole nutty thing in the first place. Letters, the occasional phone call, care packages... they're nice and they're touchstones of Home, but they're pale comparisons to the real thing.

"The night skies," I went on as she silently listened, "are the only redeeming quality about that place. At night, when the moon is full, it's just amazing to look around and see everything lit up with that silvery light. And, when the moon is gone or dark, you look up and see a gigantic blanket of black that's marred only by these brilliantly shining pin-pricks of light and dots in the sky. Other than that, though, it's a wasteland and all you can think of while you're there is the fact that you're not Home. It's in your face every minute of every day. You try to keep your spirits up by joking around with your buddies, people who're stuck there just like you and missing the same things you are, but it ends up feeling like a weird sort of masturbation, like you're trying to fill in that void of the familiar by reminding yourself of all the things you miss. People talk about hamburgers, movies, TV shows, hobbies, cars... all the stuff that they can't access and it usually leads to some good stories being told, but mostly it just ends up making us feel like shit because those things aren't available to us and won't be for God only knows how long. So we come Home on Leave and try to get back into the swing of things for two weeks, which really isn't much time now that I think about it, and it's nice, but it's kind of like a tease, really."

"Hey," she said indignantly, "I'm glad that you came back! Even if it is for only two weeks."

I hugged her closer to me and chuckled. "I am, too, Babygirl, and don't think for a minute that I'm not. But if you want the truth, it's going to suck being back there, knowing that you're here, out of my reach. Now I'm going to miss you two ways: one as my daughter and the second as my lover. I don't much like the idea of missing you twice as much now."

"I can understand that entirely," she said with a nod.

"It'll be boring as hell," I told her. "I mean, it already was a little boring, doing the same things every day, following the same routine over and over. In the beginning things got exciting when they lobbed mortars at us or there would be fire-fights, but now even those are getting to be old hat, even for the guys that actually engage the enemy directly. They come back from fighting and, when they talk about it, you can almost see them roll their eyes at the fact that, once more, they repelled the bad guys. Now, don't get it twisted: the fighting is hard and lives ARE lost, which rips out hunks of everyone's heart there. But when the teams come back all in one piece and nothing bad happens, when they go on patrol and they don't get attacked, when they meet up with village elders and the locals are happy to see them... it's like, I dunno, like... there's nothing to do. And that's happening more and more every day."

"Which is a good thing, right?" she asked.

I shrugged. "Mostly, yeah. It's weird, honey. Most of us are warriors and soldiers. Most of us are trained to fight and engage the enemy, but the enemy is slowly but surely disappearing. Our job out there is almost done with, for the most part. There are pockets of insurgency out there, sure, but a lot of our time is spent on nation-building, which really isn't our bag. I'm in an infantry unit, a battalion whose sole purpose is to fight. We're a security force and now our job is to train the monkeys that represent the Afghan Army to take care of their own country. It's a noble cause and one that I, personally, am glad to be a part of, but most of us are just fed up with the situation, the country and culture. Most of us just want to come home and wash our hands of the place. It's like... we made a commitment to trap ourselves in a miserable marriage and the bride isn't really in the mood to keep us happy now that she's got us hitched. From a soldier's perspective, I guess you'd say that we want a divorce from Afghanistan but we can't afford one, so we're just in a hurry to find any excuse to leave without looking like assholes."

My daughter took that in for a moment, considering how it sounded and just said, "Wow. Now THAT paints a pretty vivid picture! It sounds every bit as miserable as you make it out to be. I hope WE don't end up like that."

I looked at her and fixed her with a serious gaze. "Sweetheart, you're my daughter. I couldn't divorce myself from you if I tried- not that I'd ever want to."

"Well you sure as hell can't marry me!" she replied scornfully. She looked really sore about that fact, too, even though she knew it wasn't my fault and there was nothing I could do to change it.

"Maybe not," I conceded with a shrug, "but who knows what might happen down the road? Maybe, once I get out of the Army, I can use my skills to get a really well-paying job and we can move to somewhere new and different. Maybe we can take advantage of the fact that we have the same last name. No certificate to prove it, but we could probably pull off the IDEA that we're married if we tried really hard. A few years down the road we can tell people that we've been living in sin together and that we're invoking the common-law marriage thing, that you changed your last name legally. And when people ask us why we didn't just get married like normal people, why we went to all the trouble of changing your last name to mine without a marriage certificate, we can tell them to fuck off, that it's none of their business and let them think that we don't have faith in a conventional marriage. What do you think?"

Beth just stared at me with tears in her eyes. "You'd do that?" she asked with a hoarse whisper. "You'd really do all of that for me? I- I mean, I know we can't legally get married, Dad, but you'd... you'd try to make the world think that we are?"

I smiled at my daughter warmly and kissed her on the lips. "It's the only way I can think of that'll work, Babygirl," I told her. "I've told you a thousand times already: there's nothing I won't do for you." She started to attack me with a shower of kisses and threw her body on top of mine with a squeal of joy, but I held her still. "You do understand, of course, that to make this work you'll be viewed as the trophy wife of a guy locked in the throes of a mid-life crisis. Are you okay with that?"

"Fuck 'em!" she cried out with laughter. "And while you're at it, Dad, fuck ME!" With that she hunched her hips down over mine and began to rub her bald, wet pussy over my cock. I glanced at the clock, did some math in my mind quickly, and then threw the quickest fuck into my flesh-and-blood daughter that I could manage. It wasn't romantic, it didn't have finesse, but we both came just the same. And, like always, my cum stayed locked up inside her womb the moment I deposited it there.

After the quickie, we stormed out of the hotel in a whirlwind, barely checking out on time and beating traffic to the airport. Once we rushed through the check-in and got through security, we raced to the terminal and came up short when we arrived there, almost breathless from the rush we'd been in. We stood there, a short distance from the terminal's help desk, and clasped hands tightly, neither of us wanting to let go. We were surrounded by people, many of them other soldiers who knew me, so we had to show restraint in order to keep our secret safe. The hardest part about that, as you might guess, was not being able to kiss her the way that I wanted to. Our tight embrace before we parted was a pale imitation of what we both really wanted to do. Nevertheless, we kept our heads and for all anyone ever knew, we were just a father-and-daughter pair hating to say goodbye.

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Due to the incredible amount of sex we'd had the night before my departure, I slept like a brick on the plane. During my few waking hours on the flight and the single lay-over I was quiet and brooding, lousy for conversation as I thought of nothing but my sexy, nubile daughter and imagined her belly becoming slowly swollen with our illicit child. When I arrived in Afghanistan I called her at my first opportunity, told her that I loved her and that I'd email her at every possible chance. When I got back to my battalion I made good on that promise and emailed her daily, on top of sneaking in a few overseas phone calls when I worked the late-night shift. Beth replied to every email and always answered the phone without hesitation. We kept our conversations clean on the off chance that someone might be given to reading our messages or overhearing our conversations, but the love that we felt for each other was always there, just below the surface and layered in subtext. One night in mid-December, however, Beth took a huge risk and gave me a surprise.

She sent me an email that was brief in words but full of meaning. It was titled "Score!" Attached was a picture. The picture was taken with her cell phone while she stood in the mirror, standing naked in profile. Her tummy was slightly rounded, her skin creamy and bright and her smooth breasts fuller than I'd ever seen them. Under the picture were the words, "I'm a Mommy now!" Immediately after that message was one titled "Cat's out of the bag I guess!" In it she apologized at how the news of her pregnancy had been broken to me and that she had sent it to me by mistake (clever girl!), that it had been meant for a friend of hers. She went on to "explain" how she'd met some nameless guy at a night club shortly after I left, got laid and didn't know how to find the guy. She said that she wanted to keep the baby since it wasn't the baby's fault and that she wanted my help, as HER father, in raising the baby. So now I had a good sob story to tell the rest of my Army buddies all about how I was going to be a grandfather and help my daughter raise her child- everyone ate the story up like it was candy and no one was the wiser. If anything, everyone patted me on the back and told me how good and noble I was for being there when my daughter needed me most.

A week later I was informed that I'd been scheduled for a flight back home. Word had gotten back to our battalion commander about the situation and, in light of the details, paperwork was put through without my knowledge. At the same time Beth had made plans, also without my knowledge, to enroll me for a Video Tele-Conference with her- something that the FRG had cooked up. Unfortunately, the flight plans conflicted with the VTC meeting, so one of them had to be cancelled and I wasn't about to give up a chance to go home early. So I took the flight and hoped like hell that I'd be able to make it home before the scheduled meeting. As is often the case with the Army, however, things moved a little too slowly and I was in transit on Christmas Eve (the time that Beth had scheduled for us) without Beth knowing. "The Plan" was for me to arrive before the VTC meeting and surprise her.

On the morning of Christmas Day, exhausted and jet-lagged from the last-minute flight that I'd been on, I rented a car and drove like a madman from the airport to my home, arriving there at the crack of dawn. I quietly entered my house and made my way to my bedroom. Beth was asleep on my bed, wrapped up in a thick quilt and snoring quietly. A box of tissues that was surrounded by used wads sat on my nightstand and littered the floor around it. I felt terrible about the knowledge that my daughter had cried herself to sleep because I hadn't been at the VTC meeting, but I was sure that she'd forgive me when she woke up. I tip-toed over to the empty side of the bed, silently undressed myself and lifted up the sheet in preparation to wake her sleeping form with a loving kiss.

I heard the soft click of a gun's hammer locking into place from beneath a pillow as my knee touched the bed. For a split-second I began to mentally kick myself for getting her the damn thing before I left, sure that she was about to shoot me with it. "Unless you're my father, which is impossible, I'll give you ten seconds to reconsider what you're about to do," my daughter said into her pillow, her voice muffled but her body unmoving.

"Uhm... Daddy's home?" I lamely replied.

Beth spun around in the bed to look at me with a startled expression and I heard the clatter as her gun fell to the floor on her side of the bed. "DAD?!? OH MY GOD!"

Before I could reply Beth launched herself at me and my arms were immediately filled with my daughter's naked, pregnant body. She cried into my shoulder while simultaneously laughing like a little girl (which, technically speaking, she was). I stood there and wrapped her in my arms lovingly while she unleashed her joy on me like an erupting volcano. When she finally managed to get herself under control, she jerked back out of my embrace and punched me hard in the chest. "You fucking bastard! Do you have any idea how much I cried last night when you didn't show up?! All they fucking told me was that you were out on an unexpected mission that you'd volunteered for and they didn't know if or when you might be back! I WAS WORRIED SICK, YOU ASSHOLE!"

"So I'm guessing that a welcome-home kiss is out of the question?" I asked with a smirk.

Beth once again launched herself at me and began to shower my face and mouth with kisses galore. When her lips locked on to mine it was everything I could do to keep breathing, she bussed me with so much force. Our lips finally parted and she pulled back again. "Okay," she said tersely. "Explain!"

I rubbed the back of my neck, feeling rather sheepish. "Well," I started, "someone higher up the food chain decided that it simply wouldn't do for my daughter to be stuck here at home, pregnant and still in high school, while I was half a world away. There's three other people in the battalion who can do my job and I wouldn't be missed, so I was fast-tracked for coming home early. Extended emergency Leave, they called it. I'm home, honey, and I'm not going back."