What's in a Name? Ch. 01

Notes:

1) Most locations are real. Characters and events are all fictional.

2) 'Joan' and 'Beth' are the same person. When referring to events in the past, I will generally use her original name, Joan. Talking to her or about in the present, I will use Beth. Both names refer to the same individual, but will alter the nature of our relationship.

3) This is a re-submission of an earlier story. I've started writing the story from Beth's perspective and some scenes have changed as a result.

*

"I hate my name," said Joan.

I replied "Why do you say that Johnny?" This was a game that had been going on for a few years, but I was willing to play it as long as she was. Only recently did I realize that it wasn't a game, but was important to her.

"Daddy, you know what I mean. You're the only one who calls me 'Johnny' and I'd probably belt anyone else who tried, but it's better than 'Joan.' You've shown me the lists, and I know I'm probably the only 'Joan' my age within 20 miles" -- a slight exaggeration, considering that most of Portland's metro area was within that radius, but I let it slide. "But it's so plain."

This opened a new line. "Would you prefer to be 'Jane'?"

I had to bite my tongue to avoid laughing at the look on her face. "OK" she responded after a few seconds. "With one sentence, you've convinced me it could be worse, but not by much. I can console myself with having only the second most boring name in the country." It's not uncommon for her to complain about her name, but there's generally something specific that set her off. Glancing at the screen of her tablet, I saw an article about the latest cat-fight between Joan Rivers and some other Joan who was equally ancient.

I should mention that her mother (Cathy) and I separated when Joan was almost 14 and her brother, Paul, was 20. It was a completely amicable parting -- Cathy and I simply realized that we weren't doing anything together any more. Paul is in graduate school now and can't afford to come home very often. He was home for a couple weeks last Christmas, but aside from that, we really don't see him. Cathy and I have joint custody of Joan. She stays with me from Thursday afternoon until Monday morning, and with Cathy the rest of the week. This discussion occurred shortly after her high-school graduation.

"OK, I understand your point. In fact, I agree with it. Unfortunately, your mother loved her 'Aunt Joan' and refused to consider any alternatives for your name. In light of my insistence that your older brother be named for my dad, I had no right to argue. However, since you've graduated, you could start going by your middle name before you start college next year. 'Elizabeth' offers a ton of possibilities. Actually, you could legally change your name to whatever you choose. Mom and I couldn't officially object, although we might question your choice of 'Lemon Meringue' as your name if you chose to go that route."

"I've considered 'Lemon Meringue'." She giggled. "Where did you come up with that? Actually, I have thought about 'Elizabeth.' I don't like the full name, so I would go with one of the nicknames. I just don't know that I would recognize any of them as 'me.' Leslie is out, and don't pretend you don't know why. I agree with your posts about LGBT rights, but having a name that sounds anything like the 'L' ain't gonna' fly. I've considered 'Lisa,' but she is not me. 'Beth' isn't really me either, but I might be OK with it. Do you think you could help me? Just start calling me 'Beth' instead of 'Joan.' It would be even better if you could get Mom to cooperate. After 18 years, she may have softened on her infatuation with 'Joan.' All I am asking is for you to call me 'Beth,' both to see if I can comfortably respond to it, and if I can see her as me."

I agreed readily. Although Joan was more likely to complain about her name around me, her mother wasn't ignorant of the issue. I called Cathy and she agreed to try the new name. Joan (excuse me, Beth) was to remind us when we slipped up. I followed up with calls to the 3 friends who were going to the same college. Although they didn't see anything wrong with 'Joan,' they agreed to go along with it as well. I also e-mailed Paul to let him know.

After the phone calls, I said formally "Goodbye Joan and Johnny. Hello Beth."

She rolled her eyes "Dad, don't be so dramatic."

********

During the first week, I occasionally got my daughter's name wrong -- most often on the day after the change. When she came to stay with me the following week, she was Beth. I was surprised to discover that more had changed than just her name. The differences were subtle, but it was obvious to me, and Cathy commented on it as well. I'm sure Beth noticed, but she didn't say anything about it. It was mostly little things. She would wear the same outfits but would leave one more button undone, or wear her skirts a bit higher to show a little more leg. After running a load of laundry, I noticed slightly racier (what did the British call them?) knickers in the pile I left on her bed. Joan had started wearing makeup regularly a few years ago. Beth used just a tiny bit more. Her demeanor changed as well. Joan was aggressive on the soccer field, but was somewhat reticent the rest of the time. Beth acted independently by nature, and wouldn't hesitate to take the lead. At soccer, Joan would accept the role as team captain (a purely figurative position), while Beth would ask for it.

There was another change that completely blind-sided me. Joan was my daughter. Beth was the same person -- she looked the same and followed the same routine, but I started seeing her differently. I've always known that Joan was an attractive young woman. As Joan or Beth, she wore her dark brown hair in a pixie cut, which perfectly framed her oval face. Her large, brown eyes were probably her most striking feature. She's a soccer star and a dancer, so her body was amazing. She's 5'7" and looks like she weighs 120 (she's actually 140 -- the only fat on her is in her B-cups). She's strong and aggressive from soccer, but graceful and poised from dance. In short, she was a beautiful young woman. After the separation, I generally dated younger women -- being 47 myself that meant women in their late 20's to early 30's. Now I'm finding myself attracted to Beth -- a woman 10 years younger, and my daughter to boot.

Joan would always give me a quick hug when I got home from work or before leaving on Monday morning, occasionally adding a kiss on the cheek. Beth's hugs were longer and tighter. By the third week, she added a kiss on the lips to the hug. With the change in how I saw her, it seemed natural to go along with it.

When I got home from work on Friday the week after the kissing started, I found dinner waiting for me. Apparently, Beth can cook. She greeted me at the door wearing shorts, a crop top, and no bra. The shorts were shorter than anything Joan would have worn and showed off her shapely legs. "I finished early at the nursery, so they sent me home. I decided that I'd try something from 'Good Eats.' It's probably not as good as Alton's, but it should be edible." After dinner was served, I found the latter statement was certainly true. The former was open to debate.

When we finished, I said "since you made dinner, I'll do the dishes. There should be some shows on the DVR, or maybe you can find a movie we'd like. I'll leave it up to you." She headed to the living room while I collected the plates. She must have done a lot of cleaning as she cooked. It took me about a minute to load and start the dishwasher and I was done. Even the counters were already clean.

I popped open a beer and walked into the living room expecting 'The Universe' or 'Mythbusters.' She HAD selected an educational program, but it wasn't either of those. She was watching 'Real Sex' on HBO. "I decided to see what was available 'on demand' and found this. I know you've watched it -- I recognize the music from when I was doing homework. Since I'm 18 now, I'd like to see what it's about. OK, the title is fairly explicit in stating what it's about, but I want to see what it's like."

If Joan had asked me, I would have said that she could watch it, but I wouldn't be comfortable watching it with her. My discomfort was magnified watching it with Beth, but I discovered that I could not say 'no.' I set down my beer and stepped into the washroom to 'adjust myself' thankful that I never made the switch to boxer shorts. I flushed to the toilet to 'explain' my visiting the room. She was curled up on the love seat, and I sat in my recliner, with a good view of both her and the TV. We almost always sat this way when watching the tube, but I was more aware of my view of Beth than usual. The view and the show were both turning me on.

My arousal left me sufficiently nervous that I finished my beer in about half the time it usually took me. Beth sat up and said "I'll take care of the empty. Do you want another?" I nodded and she paused the show. About half-way to the kitchen she turned to face me. "Um, I'm pretty sure you know that there was beer at some of the parties I went to this year. I found that I liked the taste, but I always made sure I didn't have too much. You and Mom both warned me about guys who try to get girls drunk, and I knew that both of you would kill me if I came home that way. When I had a beer, I made it clear that any guy who handed me a second beer would probably end up wearing it. There aren't any boys who will try to get into my pants here, so would it be OK if I had some beer with you?"

She was correct about my knowledge about some of the 'keggers' she had attended, and not too far off the mark about Cathy's and my reaction if she got drunk. Neither of us would kill her, but she may have found herself wishing we had. Again, I found that I couldn't say no to Beth. "Sure. Neither of us will be driving anywhere and there aren't any boys with raging hormones, so why not?" Another part of my brain was screaming at me about the MAN with raging hormones, but I wasn't listening.

A short time later, I went to get the next round, and it was obvious that Beth was turned on by the show. As I mentioned earlier, she wasn't wearing a bra, and her nipples were prominently at attention under her top. I didn't think the bulge in my shorts could get any bigger until she absently tweaked a nipple as I walked into the room behind her.

For the last segment, I was watching Beth more than the TV. Her nipples weren't the only indication of her arousal. She was resting her head on one hand, while the other was between her legs. This wouldn't be unusual, except that the lower hand wasn't between her knees. It was between her thighs, brushing her short-shorts, with her thumb practically in her crotch.

By the end of the show, I had finished my third beer and Beth had had two. Unless she had been drinking more than she had admitted, she was probably feeling it by now. I was still somewhat sober, but my conscience had given up the evening as a lost cause half-way through my second beer. The show was over and I told Beth (at this point, 'Joan' or even 'Johnny' had followed my conscience, not to be seen for the next few days, at least) that it was time to get ready for bed. I did not say it was time to go TO bed. As I said this, I didn't realize there was a difference, but I was quickly disabused of the notion.

Beth stood up and stretched (her nipples becoming even more prominent), then headed for the bathroom (the same one I had used to 'adjust myself' earlier). She turned on the light, but didn't bother to close the door. She casually turned around giving me a perfect view of her as she pulled her panties down with her shorts and sat. Her pubic hair was black and had a careful bikini trim. If you think I wouldn't notice this in the quarter-second before she sat, you haven't been paying attention. The lights were off in the living room, so she couldn't see me staring at her, but she had to know that I could see her. I couldn't actually see her pissing, but it was obvious that's what she was doing. The surprises continued. I expected Beth to pull her shorts up after wiping. Wrong again. As she wiped herself, she stepped out of both her shorts and panties, and walked past me as she carried them to the hamper in her room. I knew she had a nice looking ass (that was all muscle) and couldn't keep my eyes off it as she passed. It looked good covered by soccer shorts. Bare, it was all the more impressive. When she got to her room, she removed her top as well. I was floored when she came back to the living room and asked "Where are we sleeping?"

As mentioned, I was still somewhat sober, but not completely. I said "What do you mean? You're sleeping in your bed, and I'm sleeping in mine." As I said it, I doubted it would end up that way. Joan wouldn't have questioned my response. Actually, she wouldn't even dream of asking the question to begin with. However, I was talking with Beth -- the woman who was willing to go after what she wanted.

"Daddy, I've been watching you since you got home from work. I wasn't 'sent home' because I was done. Last Friday, I asked to have this weekend off. I am Beth now, and may get a promotion at the nursery because of it. God knows I didn't expect it, but Beth is not 'Joan' or 'Johnny' or any of the other pet names you and Mom have come up with over the years. Lisa may have become the same woman, but I like being Beth. The point is that the person standing in front of you right now is not Joan, or Johnny. Joan, your daughter, is still part of me, and always will be. I was Joan for 18 years, and would not be who I am now without her. Everything that you shared with her is part of who I am now. But now I'm Beth, and through some strange chemistry, as 'Beth,' I understand that I'm your daughter, but I don't feel it the way that Joan did. I still call you 'Dad' or 'Daddy' only because it's always been how I've addressed you. But I don't look at you as my father. When I look at you, I see a man that I find extremely attractive -- in every way."

She continued: "You've always worked out -- running or biking or whatever, so you're fit, and you're good looking. Believe it or not, some of my friends have commented more than once that you're hot. Joan saw you only as her father and didn't see it, but as Beth, I agree with them." Beth is standing in front of me, completely naked, and she's seducing me very effectively. "I've fooled around some with David and he made it clear that he wanted to have sex with me, but I knew I wasn't ready then. I asked for the beer earlier in the hope that YOU might try to get in my pants, and I would be able to let you. When the show was over, I knew that it had worked for me. You've tried to hide it, but I know that you're interested too. I mean, it's obvious that you're hard." She looked directly at my crotch as she said this. "I also saw you looking at me during the show. I wasn't even aware that I had fondled my nipple until I heard you gasp behind me. My objective for this evening was to seduce you."

I wasn't sure how to respond, but I tried. "OK, I did notice that you changed when you became Beth. What you called the strange chemistry has actually worked on me also, but not to the same degree. You are my daughter regardless of your name. What's changed is that I look at you differently as Beth. Joan was my daughter first, and an attractive young woman second. As Beth, those two are reversed, if that makes sense. I've always known you were attractive, but as Beth, I found that I was attracted TO you. You're right that I've been aroused since the show started, and watching your reaction made it more intense. You standing there bare-assed right now is raising the temperature even more. Backing up a bit -- just out of curiosity -- how far did the 'fooling around' go with your boyfriend?" I'm not sure why I asked, but for some reason felt I should know.

"Like I said, David and I never went 'all the way' but we've both seen everything. I didn't want to be a complete tease, so instead of letting him fuck me, I went down on him, more than a few times. He also did me, but only once. I realized that if he did it a second time, we probably would not, could not, have stopped short of going all the way. To be honest, I actually like giving BJ's and I obviously like being licked. I thought it would be gross the first time I heard about it, but it's... I don't know how to describe it. Some of my friends who had done it before talked about it, so I wasn't too surprised the first time he came in my mouth. Spitting it out in his car didn't seem like an option, so I swallowed it, and have done so every time since then. I've also tasted myself from when I masturbate, and I kinda' like that taste too."

I couldn't believe that I was having a discussion of oral sex with my daughter, but like everything else this evening, there didn't seem to be any way to avoid it. "You must have gotten that from me. I've always liked giving oral. The taste is extremely erotic and even the smell can turn me on. Cathy enjoyed having me go down on her. She'd give me head occasionally, but I think it was only because she felt obligated. I came once when she went down on me -- before we had gone 'all the way' -- and she was disgusted by it. I think that might be why she agreed to have sex with me -- kind of the opposite of the situation with you and David. After cumming that one time, she insisted that I tell her when I was getting close so it wouldn't happen again. She has either never tasted herself, or found it as disgusting as my cum. She wouldn't suck me after we had sex or even kiss me after I'd gone down on her."

"It's weird hearing about you and Mom having sex, but I know that you did, or Paul and I wouldn't be here. I kinda' understand how she could be OK with sucking you, but not like your cum -- I don't' mind the flavor, but I'm not surprised that some people don't. It's weirder that she didn't like to taste herself. Pussy juice doesn't taste exactly like cock..." She sensed that this was a revelation to me -- I know that a penis must have a 'flavor,' but have no idea what that flavor is. "Just accept my word that they're similar but the pussy juice I've licked off my fingers has a much milder taste. It doesn't make sense that she would suck you but not like the taste of herself." She shook her head, then got back to her main objective. "I want to get going. Since you and I both like oral sex, we could start with that."

She said it, and I lost it.

All of my objections were swept away by the matter-of-fact tone of her statement. I walked to my room like an automaton, and she followed me. I closed the bedroom door behind her, and started undressing. Like her, I left the door open while using the bathroom -- there was no reason to close it. I could see that she was watching me the whole time.

As I left the master bath, she said "I knew that guys could pee standing up, but this is the first time I've seen it. It was cool watching you hold yourself as you went." She had pulled down the covers and was sitting on the edge of the bed facing me. She leaned forward and licked off the drop of pre-cum that had emerged, and then took me into her mouth, rubbing the head of my cock with her tongue. After a few seconds, I was ready to cum, and asked her to stop. She pouted briefly but when I told her to lie down, she agreed with alacrity. She was lying on her back and I lay down next to her, admiring her. At first, I focused on her breasts. Lying as she was, they almost appeared flat, but they perfectly matched her athletic build. The areolae were distinct but small -- however, the prominence of her nipples may have had something to do with their size. After fondling her breasts with my hands a bit, I suckled her -- first one side, then the other. She shivered with excitement. When I lowered a hand to her mound I found that moisture was already dripping down her slit. I slid my finger up between the lips of her pussy and licked it off -- my first taste of Beth's sex. I then reached back down to lightly pinch her clit. She jumped.