I Will Look After You, Papi

I stand before you today, a changed and deliriously happy man. I will tell you my story and you can judge me if you want. I know what I did was wrong in most people's eyes. But I dare you to say you wouldn't have done the same.

My story started 20 years ago when I met Mary. We had a whirlwind romance and within 6 months of meeting her, we were married. 6 months later our daughter was born. Hannah was always bright, inquisitive, dramatic, beautiful.

Time passes quickly as a parent and before long Hannah was a tall, long limbed 18-year-old. She would stop boys, and men, in their tracks when they saw her. With glossy brown hair, the suggestion of magnificent breasts, pretty eyes, and soft lips that broke easily into a smile, she was a heartbreaker. She was also her daddy's daughter. We were always close, inseparable. As she grew, this didn't change. In fact, she became even more attached. At 11 she would sail with me, camp, walk, and cycle. At 18 when many girls are uninterested in their fathers, she was closer still. Tactile, affectionate, adoring.

Around this time my wife and I split up. She didn't love me anymore; it was clear to see. I was not surprised that one day she told me she was seeing someone else. She left surprisingly quickly leaving Hannah with me. For weeks I was devastated, not at Mary's leaving, but at the loss of family life. Hannah was brilliant.

"Don't worry papi," She said carefully "I will look after you. I won't leave you, ever."

At the time I didn't take too much notice of this. I assumed she meant cooking, shopping and so on. But from that moment we were closer than ever. She would hug and kiss me, hold my hand, and at night we would snuggle on the sofa together.

"Just doing my job, papi," she would laugh as she would wrap herself around me in a most un-daughterly way.

When I set off for work, she would hand me sandwiches she'd made and kiss me on the lips, on tiptoe.

"By papi," she would say "See you tonight".

And when I came home, she would be there at the door, always wearing perfume, and make up.

"Welcome home papi." she would greet me, and lead me to the dinner table where there was always something delicious that she'd cooked.

I grew to delight in this attention. It was more loving than I'd ever had with my wife. I looked forward to coming home, often slipping away early to see her. Her beauty, humour, the slim deliciousness of her body in my arms became a heady experience. Alarms were sounding now. But I didn't care. I was completely overwhelmed.

As for Hannah, she seemed to be enjoying this too. I'd never seen her happier, more beautiful and she was closer than ever to me. As time went on, she would hang around my bedroom more and more. At night, she began to sit on my bed and talk. She would be quite flirtatious too, and even climb in next to me, wearing some flimsy night dress, to lie with her head on a pillow next to me. We would talk about all kinds of personal things, openly and affectionately. Sometimes her arms would drape around me, or she'd hook her leg over mine in a way that was utterly inappropriate but irresistible. She would even sleep in my bed with me on occasions. And that was the most wonderful thing of all, to lie in her arms all night, and wake up to her tousled hair and sleepy smile and be welcomed to the day with gentle kisses. I told myself this was all OK. It was normal affection, given our circumstances, but of course it really wasn't.

After a few months I began tentatively to see someone else. She had been a friend for a long time, and we were close but not romantically so. We hung out together, went to the cinema, and made love a few times at my house when I thought Hannah was asleep, though she never stayed over. We were careful and used condoms. I'd wave goodbye to her on the doorstep. After a few weeks we both recognised that our friendship was more important, and we stopped seeing one another.

Throughout all of this Hannah was fine. Supportive. She would still visit my room. We didn't talk about my friend, though I had the feeling she wasn't too pleased about my relationship. There was also something else that I couldn't put my finger on. From the time of my friend's visits Hannah became more demonstrative. She was still affectionate, but would take every opportunity to touch me, kiss me, hold me tightly, our hips pressed firmly together, stare deep into my eyes as if trying to tell me something. It felt to me like we'd crossed a line in our relationship. We were still father and daughter but when she'd said she would look after me, I was convinced there might be no limit to what we might do. God help me I was entranced by her.

6 weeks after my breakup with my friend I came home from work. Hannah was at the door as usual wearing a lovely midnight blue day dress that fitted her snuggly, more make up than usual and deep crimson lipstick. She was heartbreakingly pretty. She welcomed me more warmly than she'd ever done, putting her arms around me, her perfume delicious, her body tight against me. There was something else. A vulnerability, a nervousness? Had she been crying? She led me by the hand to the table and handed me glass of wine and then brought out a delicious casserole she'd made. A second glass of wine was followed by a third. And then a whisky. Something was definitely different, and I knew she was genuinely nervous.

After we'd tidied the dishes away, and she'd poured me another whisky (and I was more than a little drunk) we sat at the sofa. She'd re-applied her lipstick and in the moodily lit room I don't think she'd ever looked more beautiful. It occurred to me at that moment that I loved her with every fibre of my being.

"Papi" she began tentatively. "Papi, I've something I need to tell you. Something really important. After I've told you, you may think differently about me."

"How could I my darling daughter?" I was a little taken aback despite the warmth of the whisky giving everything a warm softness. "Nothing could change the way I feel about you Hannah. You're the most precious thing in my life." She didn't seem re-assured.

"This is the most difficult thing I have ever had to tell you papi," she began again nervously. "You see..." her voice faltered. "You see...." She stopped again, tears in her eyes, and her lips trembling."

"Go on Hannah," I tried to reassure her "I will always, always love you my darling."

She moved closer to me, and held me tight, whispering in my ears something fateful.

"Papi," she confided to me, her lips moving entrancingly against me ear. "Papi I have some news. I'm...pregnant."

My head began to swim in surprise. "Oh....oh...but...how?"

The news itself was completely unexpected but Hannah had lived quietly with me, never seeing any boys, just her girlfriends.

"I will always love you and help you, of course. I love you so very much. But whose is the baby?"

There was a long pause, just her racing heartbeat and breathing still in my ear. It was, to say the least, distracting. I was also overtaken by another feeling. Jealousy. Who had taken my daughter's virginity? I knew my feelings were not the usual father daughter ones. But there was something much more dangerous, exciting, shocking happening. I was jealous.

"Papi. The baby. I can hardly tell you, but I have to. Please don't hate me. The baby -- it's yours!"

Her heart was beating fast against me and she clung on to me tighter than before.

"When your friend came to stay papi, I did something naughty."

That word. It triggered something deep in me.

"You had sex with her. And you used condoms, didn't you. I was jealous papi. So jealous. I wanted you to myself. I took the condoms papi."

She was trembling now.

"I took them. I emptied them into my hand. They were warm. And salty."

She stopped waiting for me to say something. I was completely lost for words. She pulled back and looked at me her face so close to mine.

"I did more. Worse papi. I went to my room and emptied out the condoms. I wanted your sperm papi. To taste it. To know what you would taste like. And more. I took what was left and put it on my fingers....and then I touched myself papi. I pushed it inside me. Deep. And I rubbed myself. Masturbated. Your sperm inside me. I've never felt anything like it papi. I came and came, thinking about what it would be like if I were your girlfriend. Your lover. Every time your friend was here, I sneaked into your bedroom and took your sperm. It's your baby papi. Yours."

She hid her face in her shaking hands. I pulled them away from her face. I knew then what had to be. Our lives had changed in those few moments.

"Look at me my sweetheart" I said firmly. She met my eyes, and she was frightened, I could see. "I love you my darling. More than anything in the whole world. We'll get through this together. A baby, a life, is a joy, a gift. We need to talk about all of this, properly but you need to know. I love you more than anything, anyone and I'll always love you".

Hannah burst in to tears at that moment -- relief -- the letting out of all her worries she must have been carrying alone. She ran to her room and shut the door. I could hear her sobbing, but she wouldn't let me in. I told her I loved her, and she could talk to me anytime.

I went to bed and lay there a long time. A little drunk. Thinking about what she'd done, her feelings for me. I was shocked and more than a little excited to be honest. My daughter was so very beautiful. I picture her taking my condoms. Tasting my sperm. Using it to masturbate! I imagined her naked, lying on her bed, with my sperm on her fingers, inside her! I was so hard as I thought about her, in a most un-fatherly way. Eventually I drifted off to sleep.

In the middle of the night I woke up to find, in the darkness, my daughter sliding into bed next to me.

"Thank you papi," she whispered. "Thank you for being so wonderful, for not being too shocked by what I told you. For being there for me." She held me tight and planted a kiss on the side of my face. I turned to face her, and we held each other fiercely.

"Baby, it was a shock. I'm still trying to come to terms with all the things you told me. But you know I love you so much. And I want to be the father to our baby. If you'll let me."

"Of course, papi. It means we'll have to live together though, for a long time. How will you feel about that?"

In the gathering light she looked up at me with big, dark eyes. My heart was ready to burst with joy. My erection was between us and she couldn't fail to feel it. We were both breathing erratically. I had never felt so much love in my life.

"Nothing could make me happier my sweetheart," I replied.

"All that time ago, papi, when I said I'd look after you. Do you remember? I meant it. Do you know what I meant papi? I wanted to look after you in every way...every way. Mummy didn't deserve you. She couldn't love you the way I can."

She climbed on top of me and looked into my eyes.

"You're the father of my child papi. We should be together, don't you think? It's what I've wanted since I was little girl. Make me yours papi. Please."

She began to move against me. Her hips grinding against my erection.

"I have your baby inside me papi. Now can I have you inside me?"

She reached up to me with her face and kissed me, wildly. Her tongue was in my mouth, lewd and wet. I surrendered to her, cast aside any scruples I had, and gave Hannah whatever was left of my soul. If I was damned, I didn't care. I needed her, wanted her desperately and so I embraced it. She rolled off me and pulled down my pyjama bottoms in a moment. Then before I knew it, she was naked, her delicious, generous, warm, pregnant body was on top of me again. A moment's fumble, and she guided me inside her.The mother of my child, my daughter. Our true incestuous coupling had begun, and a groan came from deep within me as I buried myself, deep inside her.

Nothing could have prepared me for the tsunami of emotions that overwhelmed me, or the ecstasy of being inside my daughter. We fucked like wild creatures, a kind of desperation taking hold of us. And then from deep inside my consciousness my orgasm burst out, a wild, sweet, fulfilment of every illicit thought I'd ever had about my daughter.

We lay next to one another, our breathing ragged, staring deep into one another's faces.

"Now you belong to me papi. I've wanted to be married to you since I was a little girl. We can be together forever. My papi."

A year later and I'm sitting in the garden. My beautiful, healthy baby is playing on a rug and the most wonderful young woman, my daughter, is now my partner. You can judge me if you want but I am deliriously happy. There's so little love in the world, and we have so much. What could be wrong with that?