The Past in Colorado

***

For the remainder of the day, we meandered aimlessly through the mountains - talking, taking pictures, holding each other, and kissing. As evening fell, we were on a scenic overlook above the campsite. Dad sat on a small boulder and I on his lap with my arm draped around him.

"This is nice," I said softly.

He nodded.

"It is," he replied.

I reached up and took my sunglasses off, and then removed his, setting both in my lap.

"Can I kiss you?" I asked.

He smiled. "Please," came his terse reply.

Our lips came together and pushed out, touching gently, as our tongues danced. Then I began to giggle and pulled away.

"What?" he asked, looking rather confused by the sudden change in mood.

"Nothing," I replied, trying not to laugh.

Dad gave a tepid chuckle. "What's wrong?" he asked.

I snorted and looked away, too embarrassed to say it. So instead, I pointed down into his lap. I don't know if he looked where I was pointing, but I assumed he knew what I was referring to.

"For God's sake, Jessica," he groaned.

I turned to him, as he put on his sunglasses, and laughed, clapping my hands to his shoulders. I pushed against him and leaned back, exclaiming, "Wow, somebody's awfully frisky!"

"Ok, get up," he muttered, pushing me off his lap and trying very hard not to laugh.

***

We made our way down to the campsite and went about fixing dinner. Both of us moved about quickly and probably for the same reason. We didn't waste much time talking during dinner, either. But when we were done and everything was cleaned and stowed away, we slowed the pace, both of us anxious about entering the tent.

I stood next to the fire, poking at it with a stick, while Dad put the cooking gear in the trunk of the car. Then he came up behind me, placing his hands on my shoulders. His face was against my neck, and I closed my eyes, pulling my hair to one side. He softly kissed my neck. I sighed and felt like I was going to melt in his arms. His hands slid down to my waist, and very carefully around to my stomach. They made their way under my t-shirt and slowly inched upwards until they cupped my breasts. And when his fingers gently pinched my nipples, I moaned softly.

"God, I want you," I sighed.

After a few minutes, one of his hands drifted downward and didn't stop until it was pushing under my shorts, slipping under the fabric of my panties. And when his fingers curled around my vagina, I groaned and sank through his arms. He chuckled and quickly caught me, raising me to my feet. Then he turned me in his arms and smiled. With heavy eyelids, I slowly gazed at him and said, almost drunkenly, "I love you." Dad pulled me to his face and we kissed heavily. Then I pushed away, panting hard, saying, "Wait... just wait... here for a minute... I'll call you." He nodded quickly, running a hand over his mouth, and I dashed to the tent and went inside, shutting the door behind me.

I jerked off my clothes, unrolled the sleeping bags, and spread out the blanket. I unleashed my ponytail and shook out my hair, and then lay down, pulling a pillow under my head. With one hand above my head and the other draped across my midsection, I lifted one knee and nervously called to him. He must have been standing right outside the door, for no sooner had I invited him in, than he was stepping inside. My chest was heaving, as he gazed down at me, and I let one knee fall to the side. Then he quickly zipped the door shut and began undressing. As I watched, I sighed, breathing hard, scared and nervous about what we were about to do. When his erection came into view, I moaned.

Dad got down onto the mattress next to me, as I spread my legs, inviting him to rest his body between them. He moved between then, and when he was hovering over me, I reached down and began stroking him.

"I want you," I sighed. "Take me."

He leaned down and started kissing my neck, licking me and sucking on the tender skin. I pulled my legs back and closed my eyes, pulling his penis closer and rubbing the head against my vagina. A spark shot up my spine and I arched my back.

"Fuck me," I moaned.

Dad lifted his head and gazed down at me, breathing hard. "Condoms," he gasped, as his chest heaved. "I got some today."

I stroked his erection and nodded dreamily. "Me, too," I replied.

We lay staring at each other for a moment, and then I slowly pulled him closer, letting the head of his penis gently crown into me. My body trembled, as he entered. Dad gasped a few times, looking down between us. When he was a short way into me, he stopped abruptly, finding resistance against a soft fleshy obstruction. His eyes met mine and I nodded slowly.

Nervously, I whispered that I was a virgin.

He didn't move.

"Take me," I pleaded. "Please... I'm giving myself to you... I love you..."

I angled my hips up and put my hands on his ass, pulling him into me. I winced, as he pressed into me.

His voice strained, as he said my name. "Jess," he whispered heavily.

I brought my heels up and dug them into his backside, and then, using my hands and feet to push, jerked hard and thrust him deep into my body, piercing me sharply. I arched my back and cried out, slapping my hands around his torso.

"Oh, Jesus!" I cried.

Dad was breathing hard above me, sweating and trembling. My body involuntarily contracted around his shaft and he moaned, sliding in a little more. I grimaced and cried out again.

"Oh, God!"

My heart was throbbing, as our bodies were now locked together. I closed my eyes, trying to get use to the incredible feelings overwhelming my senses. And when our breathing had slowed, Dad leaned down and kissed me softly.

"Ready?" he whispered.

I could only nod, and then wrapped my arms around him, as he lowered his body on top of mine. Very slowly, he began to withdraw from me. I moaned and held my legs out wide, as he hooked his hands under my shoulders and buried his face against my neck.

"Oh my God," he groaned, as he pushed back into me.

We lay together like this, coupling slow and gentle, for a long time. He kissed my neck and face - anywhere his lips could reach.

I whispered in his ear. "Faster," I said.

Dad's hips began moving faster, thrusting against me. I pulled my legs back as far as I could. He was huffing and grunting above me. And then I felt a steady buzzing sensation grow between my legs. My orgasm was quickly approaching.

"Oh, God," I moaned. "I'm gonna cum."

He sat up and put his hands on either side of my shoulders, staring down, as he thrust into me. With my eyes half closed, I gazed back at him.

"Fuck me," I whispered.

I almost said "Dad", but caught myself. Then I lifted my hands to his face and caressed his cheeks. I sighed, saying, "Fuck me, Stephen."

He closed his eyes and began thrusting faster. We were both crying out, with each piston into my body. Unable to keep holding himself up, he collapsed onto me.

I cried out again, begging him to fuck me harder. Dad grunted, his hips slamming against me, stimulating my vagina. My eyes rolled back and I lost control of my body, my voice, my mind. I wrapped my arms around him and cried out his name.

"Fuck me, Stephen," I hissed. "Cum inside me."

Suddenly he thrust one last time, holding deep inside me, and I felt his penis spasm and throb, as his hips grinded against me. He whimpered and grunted as he filled me. I felt the first salvo crash into my womb - then another and another. I gasped and clawed at his back, wrapping my arms and legs around him tightly. We moved up and down on the mattress as one, joined together at the waist. I was grinning wide, my mouth hanging open and moaning loud, not caring if anyone outside could hear us mating. And just when I thought the flow of his seed would never cease, hoping it never would, it ended.

He lay atop me, panting heavily against my neck, as I dropped my legs to the mattress and threw my arms out to the side, wholly exhausted.

"Oh my God," I sighed, wiping my forehead.

I brought my arms around him and groaned happily, as he tried to catch his breath.

"You ok?" I whispered. He nodded and I chuckled, patting his back. Then he pushed himself up and gazed down at me. He looked exhausted, too. I smiled and touched my hand to his cheek. His face was covered in sweat, but he managed a weak grin.

"I love you, Stephen... I love you so much."

Dad closed his eyes, and after a short pause, he sighed heavily, saying, "I love you, too, Jessica." Then I pulled him to me and we kissed.

Our combined body heat eventually overwhelmed us and we had to part. Dad rolled off and his erection slipped out of my body. I felt amazingly good; better than I'd ever felt in my life. But most of all, I felt complete. I turned to him, propping up on my elbow, and ran my hand across his chest. I looked down at his penis, still very rigid. My hand slithered down and I wrapped my fingers around it. He winced and quickly gripped my wrist. I giggled, asking if it was still sensitive. With his eyes closed, he smiled and nodded. Then I sat up next to him and leaned down, taking him into my mouth. He placed his hand on my head and sighed.

"God, Jessie..."

I made love to him with my mouth for a long time, until he came again. I wrapped my hand around his penis tightly, sucking as fast as he could offer his seed. And when he emptied himself into my mouth, I crawled up next to him and lay down, falling asleep in his arms.

***

In the middle of the night, I was awakened by something on my chest. Dad was leaning across me, licking my nipple. When I saw him, I closed my eyes, laying a hand on the back of his head, and sighed happily. Then he mounted me, fertilizing my womb once more.

***

In the morning, my body ached all over. My legs, my back, my neck – everything was sore. I looked around the tent, but Dad was gone. When I called his name, I heard his reply from outside.

"Out here," he said.

I dropped my head onto the pillow and grinned. I rubbed my eyes with my palms and asked what he was doing.

"Gonna go take a shower," he replied.

I groaned. A hot shower sounded pretty good. I forced myself upright, grimacing with each movement, and grabbed my clothes and a towel. When I stepped outside the tent, my dad was walking to the showers. I looked around and the other two campers that had been there when we arrived were now gone. It was just the two of us. I smiled and tried to catch up with him, but didn't get five feet before my legs and back scolded me for putting any more strain on them. Holding a hand to my back, I hobbled as best I could to the showers.

Inside, I heard the water running and tiptoed into the men's shower. I set my towel next to Dad's clothes on a wooden bench, and then undressed. Then I carefully peeked into the shower room, making sure he was the only one there. Since no one else was there but him, I padded across the floor, my shower sandals slapping on the wet concrete.

"Wanna share?" I asked, as I approached from behind.

Dad jumped and whirled around, his eyes darting around the room and finally landing on me. I snickered and shrugged.

"No one else here," I said. "Might as well share."

He closed his eyes and shook his head, stepping to one side to let me join him under the water.

As I stood next to him, I winced. "You hurt me," I said sternly.

Dad looked at me with an expression of surprise and placed his hand on my shoulder.

"Oh, honey," he said sadly. "God... I'm so sorry. I... I'm sorry, Jessie. Your first time should have been..."

But apparently he misunderstood, and I laughed, replying, "No, no. I don't mean that. I meant my body is sore. It aches."

He blinked at me and said, "Oh... I thought you meant..."

I chuckled, and then leaned up to kiss him softly on the lips.

"You didn't hurt me that way at all," I said. "It was special... very beautiful... thank you."

He smiled and his eyes drifted away, as if embarrassed. I took the bar of soap from his hand, and began lathering my body. As I washed my face, holding it up to the spray, I felt him come up behind me, putting his hands on my shoulders and slowly letting them slide down to my hips. Rinsing my face, I felt something hard pressing against my lower back. I sighed and instinctively leaned forward, bracing my hands against the wall in front of me. Then I adjusted my feet, spreading them further apart, and pushed my ass out for him. I didn't need to say anything more. He slowly slipped into me. There was a moment of dull pain, my body still sore from our lovemaking only hours before, but I moaned in pleasure nevertheless. He held onto my hips and sank all the way into me. Joined together like this, we rocked back and forth slowly, and then he grunted, pulling hard and driving himself deeper into my body. A seconds later, he ejaculated into me. I dropped my head down between my shoulders, breathing heavily and sighing. When he withdrew, I stood and turned to face him. We were both grinning.

"That was nice," I said.

Dad stepped over and embraced me, kissing me softly.

We finished our shower, and then went to dry off and dress. As we walked back to the tent, he reached for my hand, swinging it back and forth.

***

Over breakfast, he asked what I wanted to do that day. I took a bite of my pancake and shrugged. With bulging cheeks, I mumbled, "How 'bout we just stay here and fuck?" Dad choked and coughed, dropping his fork, and slapped a hand over his mouth. Red-faced and watery-eyed, he looked at me in disbelief. I merely shrugged and took another bite.

"What?" I asked.

He blinked and reached for his orange juice, taking a long gulp.

"Just... Never heard you swear so... casually," he remarked.

I reached for my cup and shrugged again.

"Guess I just like having you fuck me, is all."

Dad dropped his head down and laughed.

"What?" I said, swept along with his fit of giggles. Half joking, I added, "Maybe we oughta get a room or something."

But, in a way, if that's all we did for the remainder of our time in Colorado, it was fine by me. Dad, however, shook his head.

"Nah," he replied. "We didn't come all the way out here - pack all this camping gear not to use it. We're camping," he said in a very fatherly tone.

***

Later that day, we were eating lunch in a little restaurant, after spending the morning visiting a number of antique shops. One thing Dad always disliked was standing in a line - any line and for any reason. So while he went to find us a table, I stood in line to place our orders, he being typically happy with whatever I got for him.

As the line slowly moved forward, I looked up at the menu on the wall above the counter and wondered about a dessert. I turned and looked for him. He was about twenty feet away, sitting at a table reading a newspaper. Holding a hand to the side of my mouth, I quietly called to him.

"Pst."

He didn't look.

"PST!"

Still no response.

"Stephen!"

Dad's head rose and he looked about, apparently bewildered that someone in the restaurant knew his first name. When he saw me, I leaned over the railing and asked if he wanted something for dessert. Nodding, he held up a hand and said sure. And while he picked up the newspaper in front of him, he continued staring at me. He had a puzzled look on his face - pleasant, but seemingly a bit confused. I grinned sheepishly and turned to place our order.

I'd just called him Stephen and not the more traditional and appropriate "Dad".

But it wasn't the first time. The night before, I called him that, as we had sex in the tent. He didn't react strangely, at the time, probably chalking it up to a heat of the moment reaction. And although that was true enough, I also meant it in a more intimate context. It was strange calling him that at first, but over the next few days, I made myself use it more often in place of "Dad". It was awkward for us at first, but we soon became accustomed to it. But more importantly, I didn't want to be in a sexual relationship with my "Dad".

***

We were in a large antique store in the town of Leadville, and I was thumbing through a box of old photographs, when Stephen came up behind me. I glanced at him and smiled, and then returned to sifting through the pictures.

"Whatcha get?" I asked.

With a dull thump, he set down a short stack of books on the table next to me. I chuckled, saying, "Geesh, think ya got enough?" He was sorting through them and pulled one out, handing it to me. "What's this?" I asked. Stephen put one hand on his hip and rested the other on the stack of books.

"I got that a long time ago for your mom," he said.

I looked at him and held the up book. "This book?" I asked, giving it a shake.

He chuckled, replying, "Well, not that exact book, but a copy of it."

I opened it and asked what it was.

"A book of poetry," he replied. "Mostly about... you know, love... that sorta thing..."

His voice trailed off, as I stood staring down at it. I snapped the book closed and smiled.

"Don't you still have the copy you gave her?" I asked.

He nodded, as I went to hand him the book, but he gently pushed it back. Stephen went to say something, but hesitated.

"That's, uh... that one's for you," he mumbled.

A tear formed in my eye, and I held it to my chest. "Thank you, Stephen," I whimpered.

He gazed down at the floor and gave a short kick of his foot, replying, "I am in love with you, Jessica, and... Well, I guess I just don't know how to say it, so... so maybe that book can do it for me."

I sniffed and wiped my eye. "Thank you," I cried. And then I stepped over and hugged him.

Over lunch, we browsed through our shopping bags, examining the items purchased during our morning expedition. As Stephen perused one book after the next, I sat across from him nibbling at my lunch and quietly reading from the book of poems he had bought for me. I read them quietly and soon my eyes began to water. Then I closed the book and looked over at him. Stephen reached for his soda and saw me. He grinned, as a tear rolled down my cheek.

"What's wrong?" he asked.

I coughed and smiled, holding the book up from my lap.

"Oh," he replied. Then he leaned closer, saying, "You like it?"

More tears fell and I grinned wide. "It's beautiful," I whispered.

I wiped my eyes, sitting back in my chair with a huff, as Dad chuckled.

"You're beautiful, too," he replied.

I rolled my eyes and tilted my head back, holding my hands over my face. "Ugh! Enough crying already," I happily exclaimed.

After lunch, we cleaned off the table and continued walking along the sidewalk. We stopped by the car to drop off our bags. I placed my hand on his back, as he closed the door, and when he turned to me, I smiled.

"Stephen," I said, but then stopped, hesitating as his name rolled strangely across my lips. I looked down at the ground, with an anxious chuckle.

He rubbed my arm. "What?" he asked.

"What if..." But I paused and gazed into his eyes, trying to smile. "We didn't use any protection," I said softly. The smile on his faced slowly ebbed, and he leaned back against the car with a sigh, fumbling with the keys in his hand.

"It's ok," I said.

He only shook his head, and I reached for his hand.

"No," I said. "Stephen, look at me."

He raised his eyes and I grinned.

"It's ok... I want to."

He closed his eyes and squeezed my hand. "Just stupid," he mumbled. Then he looked at me and said it again. "It's my fault," he said. But I shook my head. After the first time we had intercourse, I was terrified. Not that I might become pregnant, but that it would be by my own father. I worried about the health of our baby and the social stigma sure to follow. But there was nothing I could do about it now; nothing I wanted to do about it. In fact, I came to want this. I was even beginning to look forward to it. But something inside told me it was ok, that I didn't need to worry. It was that familiar gut instinct again saying everything would be fine. Any children we had would be normal and perfect and healthy.