Edward and Emily Ch. 01byRose95©
This is the first chapter of a fictitious story. The characters in this story are based on real people, but I have changed most of the names and in some cases their appearance. The events in this story never happened, with exception of some of the minor ones.
If you enjoy reading about Edward and Emily, please check out the parallel story Emily and Edward. It describes how the same events and developments are experienced by Emily.
Special thanks to Pete_L, not only for correcting typos and numerous suggestions to improve this story, but especially for all the insights into male psychology which turned Edward into a real human being.
Arriving home from work on Friday evening, I was surprised to see Emily's car already on the drive, as she normally arrives back from college for the weekend a little later than me.
I went in through the front door and closed it behind me,
"Sweetie, are you home?" I shouted out.
With only a few seconds delay, a fluffy white bathrobe hurled itself downstairs and attached itself to me, with its arms around my neck.
"Whoa, what is this all about?" I managed to ask, as my daughter tried to crush me to her.
"I missed you." I heard her whisper.
I laughed and wrapped my arms round her, holding her tight like we used to when she was younger, my chin on the top of her head, reveling in the smell of her freshly shampooed hair and skin.
"Are you okay Emi?" I asked, stroking my hands up and down the back of her robe.
"Yeah," she said," I don't know what's wrong with me."
I squeezed her a little more, but as I did so, I was reminded that she was no longer a little girl as I felt her breasts pressing into my chest. It was a nice feeling to hold someone you love that close, feeling her warmth and softness, but although she didn't seem inclined to move just yet, the feeling of impropriety at holding her so intimately – and sort of enjoying it - was stealing through my brain.
"Go get dressed and I'll make dinner." I said, releasing her with a short kiss on the top of her head.
When she came back downstairs and sat at the table, I was relieved to see she was dressed in her normal 'around the house' jeans and T-shirt. That hug had un-nerved me a little with some of the feelings I had felt and I was glad I wouldn't have to think any more about it.
"Are you okay?" I asked her again.
"Are you okay? You look a bit... strange. Like you're not really there."
"No, I'm fine."
I took her hand and felt her wrist.
"Are you sure you are alright? Your pulse is a bit fast."
She gave me a funny sort of look and then the moment passed, and we concentrated on eating dinner while chatting about this and that. It was a strange dinner. I noticed that every time I looked up at her, she smiled at me in a peculiar kind of way. I was a little confused by her behavior as it was out of character for her to be in so much of a 'dreamy' sort of world. I wondered if it was anything to do with the package that had arrived for her this morning, that I had inadvertently opened, realized it was not for me but for Emily and then left it in her room for her. So as our meal came to an end, I asked her what she was thinking about, but she just said it was about plans for my birthday next week.
I knew I was not going to get much else from her, so I dropped the subject and after watching the late night horror movie together, Emily went to bed while I cleaned up the kitchen and went to bed myself.
I am an early riser, even at the weekends, and after showering and getting dressed, I usually make breakfast for us both, so we can share some time together at the table.
The next morning, I had breakfast almost ready, but had not heard much sound of movement from Emily's room. Just to check she was getting ready, I went casually up the stairs intending to knock on her door and tell her that breakfast was ready.
We live in a modest house and only have a family bathroom upstairs which is opposite Emily's room and next to the main bedroom. I did think of converting it into an en-suite bathroom before I got divorced, but afterwards it seemed a waste of effort just for myself and anyway, it would mean Emily would have to use the small downstairs shower room when she was home.
As I reached the top of the stairs, I could hear the shower running, but louder than I thought it should sound. I saw then that the door was partly open and guessed that Emily had not closed it properly. I reached forward to quietly pull the door closed so that she would not feel embarrassed when she realized. As I did so, I caught sight of her in the steamy mirror, blurred, but clear enough to make out her slim body covered in soapy bubbles, as she started to rinse off the soap. I swear it was an accident, I wasn't trying to see her, but I stood a moment too long, mesmerized by how beautiful she had become. Her breasts were in complete harmony with her petite stature and the curve of her waist down to her hips which then widened out into a rounded apple shaped butt, captivated me.
It felt like minutes, but it could have been only a few seconds, that I stood there taking it all in, and I think it might have been the faint stirrings of my cock that caused my sensible and fatherly brain to shout at me, "What the hell are you doing looking at your daughter in this way, get the hell out of there."
Jolted out of my reverie, a bit disgusted with myself, but also unable to immediately just erase the erotic sight I had witnessed, I quietly closed the door and went quickly downstairs to the normality of breakfast preparation.
About ten minutes later, she bounded down the stairs.
"Hey sweetie. Sit down and have some tea. Breakfast will be ready in a minute," I said in what I thought to be a normal voice, hoping that she had no idea I had seen her in the shower.
I carried on preparing the waffles until I heard her say, "Dad, do you know you are the only man I trust one hundred percent?"
It didn't register for a moment, I thought she must have seen me looking at her when she was in the shower and was telling me that she knew it was accidental and still trusted me. I froze and was just about to tell her I was sorry, when it suddenly dawned on me that she was referring to the note I left with her package that I had opened. What was a father to do? I was a little shocked by the fluffy handcuffs that were in the package, I had no idea my daughter would know where to get such things or why she would want them. I was only thinking of her safety when I wrote the only thing I could think of, "Make sure your mom doesn't see these, and please only use them with someone you trust ONE HUNDRED PERCENT!"
Now she was telling me I was "the only man she trusted one hundred percent". What did she mean by that? I felt at this moment that I wasn't to be trusted at all. Although inadvertent initially, I had just spied on her, naked, in the bathroom. I could have just closed the door or walked away... but I didn't. I didn't know how to respond and wasn't sure what she meant anyway, so I just kept quiet and finished making our breakfast.
The rest of the weekend passed too quickly as we seemed to be enjoying each other's company even more than normal. I deliberately gave her a more chaste hug as she left to go back to college on Sunday evening, but to my astonishment, as she untangled herself from me, she kissed me directly on my lips. Just that brief, but intimate touch, gave me a lightening flashback image of her in the shower. I don't know if she noticed my reaction, as she quickly got into her car, waved and drove off.
I wandered back into the house, my head a bit of a whirl, what had just gone on there? What was happening to me?
The following Thursday, I had returned home from work as usual, ate a lonely dinner and was sitting watching TV, when I heard a car pull up on the drive. I wasn't expecting anyone, so I was very surprised when the door opened and Emily bounced in.
"What are you doing here?" I asked, pleased to see her, but wondering if something had happened for her to be home a day earlier than normal.
"Playing hooky. I wanted to be here for your birthday," she said, taking off her short coat, kissing me on the cheek and plonking herself down next to me on the couch.
I put my arm round her and her head moved to rest on my shoulder. I think she must have showered before coming home, as I could smell the same fresh shampoo smell in her hair and the soap she always used on her skin.
I could see why she needed a coat, as underneath, she was only wearing a very short T-shirt that showed a lot of her tummy and light jeans that looked as though she had been poured into them. I don't know why I noticed, as I never had before, but it looked as though she wasn't wearing a bra either, as there was just a hint of a nipple under her top. I reasoned that as a young girl with a petite figure, she probably didn't need to wear one, but what did I know! I quickly looked away in case she thought it was weird that I was looking at her and quickly banished the thought from my head.
I was pleased to have the company and for it to be Emily was a bonus. I told her I had to work tomorrow, but she didn't seem bothered by being alone all day and muttered something about making a cake for my birthday. To be honest, I wasn't too bothered about celebrating yet another year gone past, but my brother and his wife were coming over and Emily seemed excited to be doing something for me, so I was happy to go along with it.
After a few minutes, she got up and went into the kitchen to get herself something to eat. I offered to make her something, but she said she could manage. I am guessing that she probably hadn't eaten at college and had waited until she got home where she knew there would be food available.
I think that having eaten, she must have gone up to her room to do whatever young girls do there, as I was still watching TV a couple of hours later when she finally came back to the living room. A horror movie was just starting, something we both enjoyed watching, either because it was good, or so bad we poked fun at it. She sat down at the other end of the couch drawing her bare feet up underneath her. In my peripheral vision, I could see that she was spending more time looking at me than at the TV. It was a little unsettling, given the previous odd behavior last Sunday, as I still didn't know what was going on in her mind.
"Daddy," she said, "do you remember how I used to watch 'Sesame Street'?"
"Sure! Stretched out on the couch with your head on my lap." I said.
With this, she scooted across, lifted up my arm and put her head in my lap as we used to do when she was little. It was such a natural position, that we had been in many times before, that without thinking, I began to stroke her hair with my left hand. I smiled to myself at the remembered evenings we had watched TV like this as she grew up, enjoying each other's closeness and warmth. My self-indulgent reminiscences were short-lived when I realized that my other hand holding the remote control, had nowhere that I thought 'appropriate' to rest. I tried resting it on her leg, but it felt wrong, then her tummy, but that was all bare skin and definitely felt 'wrong'. It wasn't comfortable to just hold it up near her shoulder, so I was not sure what to do, when suddenly she came to the rescue.
"What are you doing, waving that remote control around?" she said, without taking her eyes from the TV.
"I'm trying to find a comfortable place to put my hand."
"You mean you're trying to find a comfortable place to put your hand without touching my boobs?"
"Yeah, you didn't have those when you were watching 'Sesame Street'." I mumbled trying to laugh it off, embarrassed that I was so transparent.
"It's just fat tissue, Dad." she giggled.
"It may be 'just fat tissue' to you," I thought to myself, "but these are real live breasts and not only that, they belong to my daughter."
As I was thinking these thoughts, she grabbed my hand and wrestled the remote control away from me, dropping it on the couch. Taking my hand in hers, she placed it on her top, in the center, just under her breasts.
"Emily!" I spluttered, trying to remove my hand from the warmth I could feel radiating from her breasts just a finger's distance away.
"It's okay! Watch the movie." she said and held my hand there with both of hers.
I wasn't sure I should be touching her there at all, but as it was she who had placed my hand there, it wasn't as though I was stealthily trying to 'feel her up'. I was just resting my hand and it wasn't touching anything it shouldn't I convinced myself. Oh, how easy it is to convince ourselves of anything if we want! I went back to stroking her hair, so soft, silky and warm, as we continued to watch the horror movie.
It obviously wasn't one of the better movies as I felt my mind drifting rather than concentrating on the plot. I heard Emily make a few comments and I think I responded in a like manner, but I wasn't really watching it. As I continued to run the fingers of my left hand through her hair, without thinking, I let my right hand move in small circles around the spot where she had placed it. It seemed that there was a rhythm to the one hand in her hair and the other moving in a circular motion. I gradually widened the area until I touched the underside of her right breast. In almost automatic mode, I stroked up between her breasts and cupped the right one in my palm. I felt the nipple harden under her T-shirt and poke between my fingers. It was just a reflex action then to squeeze it between my fingers. Emily didn't make a sound or movement to stop or distract me,
The erotic feel of her nipple becoming erect and squeezing it, rolling it round in my fingers, sent messages to my cock which also started to become erect. Although I was looking at the TV, my mind was elsewhere, enjoying the sensations of early arousal and the feel of Emily's breast and nipple. My cock was getting harder by the second, my mind further from the truth than ever, that I was enjoying this and shouldn't be. As I caressed Emily's breast, moving her nipple this way and that, I felt the weight of her head on my now fully erect cock and for a moment I sort of enjoyed the sensation.
A 'warning' thought wormed its way through the erotic thoughts and sensations I was experiencing and into my mind, "Oh my God! I have an erection touching my girl's face, she must be able to feel it. I am also touching and stroking her breast, what will she think of me? How am I going to explain this? What explanation can there be for being a pervert?"
Beginning to panic and come back into the real world, I focused on my surroundings and knew I had to get out of the situation before it went further than it already had.
"Uhh, I've got to uhhh, got to go to the bathroom," I muttered, pushing her off my lap into a sitting position and making my way out of the room with my back to her.
I went straight up to the bathroom, locked the door, dropped my pants and boxers and took my penis in my hand. I stood facing the mirror over the washbasin and pulled the foreskin back watching in the mirror as the large purple head emerged, leaking pre-cum as if it was crying. I couldn't help myself, I moved my hand faster and faster up and down the shaft, the head appearing and disappearing with each stroke. In my mind, God forgive me, I could still imagine the feel of her breast and nipple and wondered what it would be like without the T-shirt. What if I had gone further and put my hand down over her tummy and unzipped her jeans, would she have let me or been disgusted. At that moment I didn't care, I stifled a groan as I came, spurting the first strings of my hot seed right over the washbasin and onto the mirror. The next few went into the basin, gradually diminishing as my orgasm passed, leaving me emotionally drained and beginning to think more clearly.
I am not sure I welcomed or liked the clear vision that I saw. No matter how it happened, here was I, a supposedly respectable and caring father, masturbating, while thinking about his daughter's body.
After cleaning up the bathroom and making sure I looked 'normal' I went in trepidation back down to the living room. I wondered what I was going to say to Emily, but to my relief, the TV was off and she had obviously gone to bed.
I wasn't sure I was looking forward to seeing her at breakfast.