Lacie's Secret Diary

He got up and slammed the door shut behind him. Now she knew she had blown it, but good. Her heart sank with the realization that she had just lost the only man she had ever loved. Not only as her father, but any hope of having her world of fantasies and dreams fulfilled. Now, her tears were not frustration, but the agony of hopelessness and utter loss. The same pain she'd felt when she realized what death was, after her mother had passed away. She flopped down on her bed and began to cry.

After she cried herself dry of tears, she lay in her bed replaying in her mind the same thing over and over. His last words, those words that had hurt, had cut like a butcher knife through her soul. And then it hit her. Her father wasn't over her mother's death yet. He had never let go.

No wonder he never made much effort to date! No wonder he spent all his time engrossed in his business! He still hadn't freed himself of his pain yet! And with that revelation, Lacie knew she had a second chance.

* * * * * * * *

She stayed in her room all day, just laying there, thinking. Her revelation had given her much to think about, as had her own emotional response to having come out about how she felt.

Lacie wondered if he would call her down to dinner as he usually did on the nights it was his turn to cook. It just happened to be, this evening, and she lay there watching the minute hand on the clock next to her bed slide past twelve. It was seven o'clock, when dinner was usually served. Then came seven-oh-one... seven-oh-two... seven-oh-five...

"He's not going to call me down," she said to herself. Hoping against hope that he would call her down and prove her wrong, she continued to wait, staring at nothing, thinking. Another glance at the clock. Seven twelve now. Dinner was normally at seven sharp. What was he doing?

"Maybe I need to go apologize," she realized aloud. "Maybe he can't handle all this. I hope he'll at least talk to me after this."

She lay there contemplating what to do next, letting herself space out, when she heard him call to her. It was a lot softer than usual, but she'd heard it.

"Lacie... dinner."

She waited a moment, and then got up, kicked off her shoes, and walked down stairs in her socks. When she reached the kitchen, she stopped in the doorway. He was already sitting down, but wasn't eating. He didn't look up.

"I'm sorry, dad," she said, her voice breaking in the middle of her sentence. He made no response.

"You sure you want to eat dinner with me?" she asked. He slowly nodded yes, and looked up at her. She saw such pain in his face. Her heart was filled now with guilt and remorse.

"I'm so sorry, dad," she repeated, as she sat down. They ate in silence.

In the middle of dinner, with only the sounds of silverware against the clear glass plates that she had grown to love, she wondered how to break the silence. Finally, she decided to just talk.

"Look, dad... I know this all must be pretty freaky to you, but I never realized how you felt about... I mean, I never realized how much you still feel for mom. I just want you to know I'm sorry, and I want to be there for you if you need someone to talk to, or lean on."

He only nodded slightly, looking forlorn, and then continued eating.

She never wrote in her diary that day. It was the first time in six years she had missed a day, but somehow it didn't seem appropriate to put such intimate things down on paper. She didn't want anyone to find out. It seemed a good time to stop keeping a diary, all of a sudden. And a good time to destroy all of the ones she had written.

The next day was a Saturday, and Lacie spent the better half of it sitting on her bed re-reading all her diaries. She relived all of what was written in them, one last time, and as each word was finished, each sentence, each paragraph, each page, she said goodbye and let it go. To her left was the pile of unread diaries; to her right were the ones she had finished reading for the last time. It was about two o'clock in the afternoon when she finished the last word on the last page of the last diary, and slowly closed its covers. Lacie allowed herself a moment of nostalgia, and then she began repacking the diaries into the cardboard boxes they had been in to begin with.

She was confident her father would be in his office, attending to his business, as he always was, so she made no special efforts to cover up what she was doing as she carried the boxes downstairs. When she opened the door to the back patio deck, she was surprised to see her father sitting there staring at her.

"Whatcha doin?" he asked, as if nothing had happened in the last 48 hours.

"I'm going to do something I should have done a long time ago," she replied nonchalantly. Mike made no effort to question her further, and she made no effort to explain. Lacie knew that her actions in the next few minutes would be all the explanation he would ever need.

She walked to the center of the patio's wooden deck and set down the two boxes. Then, she walked over to the grill which was put away next to the house and covered against the elements, and uncovered it. Finally, she began to drag it into position.

"Gonna burn 'em, huh?" he said. There was a tinge of sadness in his voice.

"Yeah. It's time these were destroyed."

"Mind if I ask why you think so?"

"Because I realized that my hopes and dreams can never be, and I might as well close that door and start looking towards a new future. That, and I don't want them to get you in trouble. Or me."

He chuckled. Lacie looked at him, slightly surprised.

"Would you mind chatting with me before you erase your memories forever?" Mike asked.

She wasn't sure what to do for a moment; then, she shrugged, and sat down in the seat across from his. Their feet were almost touching; she realized that Mike had pulled the chairs closer together than they usually would have been.

"Did you know I'd be doing this, dad?" Lacie asked.

"Does it matter?" he replied. They sat there in silence for a few minutes.

"So what would you like to talk about?" she said, finally.

"Well... this is difficult for me, Lacie, but I think maybe I can trust you with it. Maybe I can trust you with he information, and the responsibility of it. I hope I can, anyway."

"Sounds big," she replied, both slightly proud at his trust and curious as to what he was talking about.

"Well, it is. See, I was thinking... well, you've probably figured it out by now that I have never gotten over your mother."

"Yeah," she said.

"I'm the kind who, when something hurts enough, I bury it inside instead of dealing with it. And sometimes, that only makes things worse," he continued. She nodded for him to go on.

"I was thinking that maybe, if you could do something for me, I could do something for you."

There was a pregnant pause. Lacie saw his ears turn bright red. Could it be? Was he asking her to do what she thought he was?

"Continue," she said, trying to sound nonchalant.

"Well... I was thinking that... if maybe you could help me get through this, work through this grief I never felt... then maybe I could... be what you wanted."

Despite her best efforts, a big wide smile had perched itself right on her mouth and was stubbornly refusing to be persuaded to leave.

"What do you need me to do, daddy?" she asked after a moment of silence. Her smile faded as she asked, since it seemed inappropriate.

"I was thinking... maybe... you could pretend to be..."

"Mom?"

"Uh, yes... and maybe that making love to her one last time would help me say goodbye."

"And you think that in return, you could be my lover, as well as my father?"

"Well, honestly," Mike said, "I don't really know. But what I do know is that I can never have another woman until I have dealt with what I have locked up inside. So the only way to ever find out is..."

"I told you, daddy. I am yours to do with as you please. Anything you want. It's yours. Always. All I ask is that you never have sex with me except out of love."

"Lacie, I'm not even sure I can do it at all... I'm just thinking, you know? Maybe it would help. God, I can't believe I am even thinking this."

"Well whenever you feel ready, if ever, I'll be here."

"Yeah. Thanks. Just please don't tell anyone," her father said, looking worried. "Now, are you sure you want to burn them?"

Lacie looked at him with an expression of how ridiculous it was to think she'd tell someone else. Then she looked over at the diaries, and back at him. She sensed he didn't want her to burn them. Somehow, it didn't feel right anymore.

"I guess not," she said.

"Good. So put the grill back already."

With a smile, she did.

* * * * * * * *

It was almost a week that went by with nothing mentioned at all about the whole incident. Then, one day, Lacie came home from school to find her father asleep in her bed. He was fully dressed, except for his shoes, which were at the end of the bed, and he was laying on top if it. Lacie's bed was a single, so there wasn't a whole lot of room for more than one person. She stood there looking at him for a few moments, peacefully asleep.

She admired his build. He had the V chest that seemed so impossibly masculine. He was so much more man than any of the boys at school. That's what they were – boys. They were just getting their first jobs and cars, and losing their virginity, and experiencing the world for the first time, and yet they thought they knew it all. The arrogance and smugness most of them displayed was positively disgusting to her. But here, laying in her bed, here was a real man. The man. The man who had proven his virility by her own creation. The man who was strong in the face of everything that had ever been thrown at him. Who relied on nobody but himself, and succeeded where countless others failed. This was Lacie's idea of a real man.

Lacie set her books down on her small wooden desk, painted to match the walls. Then she took off her shoes, paused and looked at him again, and crawled into bed behind him. She made her body match the contours of his own, and her arm reached over to caress his chest.

Lacie thought maybe she would fall asleep like this, but she did not. His scent was overpowering, as was the heat that radiated from him. She would have sworn that she felt his masculine essence in that heat... and then she realized that her body was responding, as she knew it would, as it always had when she fantasized about this sort of thing. Now it was actually happening. She began to tremble as her body ramped up, excited not only by his maleness, but by the hope that her fantasies of all these years would finally be coming true.

She felt his chest slowly expanding and relaxing with each breath. The powerful cheat she had so longed to kiss each time she saw it bare. To caress in her hands... he had just the right amount of hair on his chest, and she could feel it through his shirt.

"Mmmmm," she sighed softly, after letting herself smell his neck.

He mumbled something in his sleep.

"What was that?" she asked softly, careful not to call him 'daddy' in case he was dreaming about her mother.

He mumbled again.

"What was that honey?" she said, trying to sound like she remembered her mother sounding when she would ask.

"Amishchew, Marilyn."

Marilyn. Her mother's name. He was dreaming, remembering.

Lacie paused for a moment. Should she? Yes, she decided to try.

"I missed you, too, baby. I've missed you so much. Especially your kisses."

"My kissez. Muchafednth."

"Yes, baby, your kisses. Can I have a kiss? I've been so long without one."

"Yeahz, kiss." He made a smooching sound.

"Turn over and kiss me, lover, on my lips."

"Mmm." He did not move.

Lacie pondered what to do a moment, and then began to rub his chest more obviously, and kissed his shoulders and neck.

"I love you, Michael," she whispered in his ear. "I love you, and that will never change. But I have moved on, and so must you. You have a life to live. Move on, Michael. Get on with your life, so you can be happy again." She could scarcely believe what she was saying to him.

There was no response to it. She got up and moved around to the other side. Now trembling at what she was thinking of doing, she hoped that her father would not wake up and be mad at her for it.

Lacie positioned herself at the side of her bed, on her knees on the floor with her elbows on the bed so she could kiss him. At first, it was awkward, but after a few attempts, he started to respond in kind.

His lips were dry at first, but she moistened them with her kisses. Her tongue played lightly over them, and then she would suckle one, then the other, and finally trace them lightly with her tongue. Then she felt his jaw relax and he moaned slightly. His lips came to life, and he rolled over onto his back, pulling her atop himself, while kissing her back.

His eyes were closed, but his passions were awakening. She was laying on top of her father, kissing him in the way she had fantasized about for years! It was almost too much to believe. As she dared let herself, her boldness grew to match his own, as his passions awakened from a long banked fire deep within.

"Oh, Marilyn, it's been so long," he said breathlessly,coming to consciousness. And then he opened his eyes.

Their eyes locked, and everything stopped for a split second. He held her arms, his powerful hands making her still.

"Lacie! I must have been dreaming, I -"

"Michael, please don't stop," Lacie said. It was the first time she'd ever called him that. He paused again, then suddenly kissed her, fully aware of what he was doing for the first time.

The kiss was a gentle one, slow, explorative. First, he grazed her lips with his own, but just barely, which made her shiver as tingly waves cascaded through her. It was magical. She shivered.

His eyes were taking her in, looking at each and every feature.

"You are so much like your mother," he said. "I'm not sure it's fair for me to be thinking so much of her as I touch you."

"Michael, I will be whoever you like if it will help you heal your heart." It felt odd to be calling him Michael instead of dad.

"I will touch you and kiss you and make love to you as my daughter Lacie, then," he replied. "It's been so long since I have had a lover. I think perhaps today we shouldn't end your virginity."

"Why?" She said, suddenly forlorn

"Because to make it a special event, as it should be, I must be prepared. I must not be blinded by my own lust and desires. To do it right takes time, and I have no such patience right now. I must prepare."

"How would you do that?" Lacie asked.

"You must feed me until I have had my fill, so to speak, and then I will be calm enough to show you the joys of lovemaking."

Lacie knew what he meant. She smiled, and her understanding twinkled in her eyes, which made him smile. She started inching lower on him.

"For the moment, kiss me. I haven't had decent kisses in too long."

And so, for several minutes, they shared soft, sensual, loving kisses, the kind that makes a woman's heart flutter, and a man's go thump.

When she thought perhaps she was going to burst with desire, she pulled her lips away from his, and started to kiss his neck as she began undoing his blue button down dress shirt. He took over the job from the other end, and she began pulling it open to reveal his chest, shoulders and the tops of his muscular arms. What a magnificent view.

But he stopped her and lifted her chin so that he could look into her eyes. His gaze asked if she was certain, and in response, she began to remove her own top. As it came off, it revealed that she had not restrained herself with anything, and so her magnificent breasts were standing on their own, free. She tossed her top aside and looked again into his eyes, in which she saw pride and deep appreciation for her body, and for the first time in her life, she felt truly beautiful.

"My God, Lacie... had I known how beautiful your breasts were, I might have seduced you a long time ago!"

"No you wouldn't have. You were to bound up in your everlasting mourning."

He pushed her back a bit so that she was straddling him, and she felt his maleness stiffly though his pants. For him, her warm, soft backside was a delightful tease. He knew her sex was just above his.

With his hands flat and open, as if resting on a pane of imaginary glass between them, he allowed his palms to touch down ever so lightly on her erect nipples, so proudly jutting from her perfect teardrops. She shivered again as he allowed them to experience the gentlest touch, and finally he let himself embrace their fullness with each hand. The fit was perfect.

He caressed and softly kneaded her breasts, in wonder at how perfect they were, and how much the reminded him of Marilyn's. Only, Marilyn's, last he remembered, were larger, and had been through children. Mike was in awe of Lacie's, and the fact that they were his own daughter's. With a finger's motion, he beckoned her forward, kissed her, and then pushed her back a little, set about to suckling.

Immediately, he felt the aureole tighten in his mouth, and she moaned her appreciation as he worshiped her with his mouth. First one, then the other, back and forth he went, until she was beginning to buck her hips back and forth a little bit in response.

"Here, lay down. I have a gift for you," he said, as he stood up. His pants were severely tented, and it would have made Lacie laugh had she not been so sorely aroused. There was a look of feral lust burning in her eyes, and this pleased Mike immensely. He burned with the desire for his own release, but this was going too well, and that would have to wait.

Lacie layed down, and then Mike helped her out of her jeans and gazed upon the smooth flesh of his progeny. She was not skinny, nor was she big; rather, she was all woman, as feminine in her build as a woman can be. She was a goddess.

"My goodness, Lacie... I wish I'd known how luscious you are sooner." he said, his breath catching in his throat in response to the woman splayed out in front of him.

"Everything in good time, dad. You weren't ready for it."

"I'm ready now!" he laughed, sticking his hips out and exaggerating the tenting.

"Rawrrrrr," she growled at him.

Then he hooked his fingers into the waistband of her pale pink panties and began to pull. Her hips tilted up to raise her backside off the bed, and he drew them down further. When they had cleared her backside, she let it return to rest on the bed.

Now, he gazed for the first time upon his Lacie's private world. Her patch of soft fur was brown, and seemed to have decided all on its own to be orderly in its growth, because it formed a neat little swath leading up from the top of her slit. As he pulled her panties off completely, he caught her scent, and it stunned his brain. For a moment, all he could do was stare and experience her primal scent.

She opened her legs a little bit and gave him a peek. Her lips were hairless, puffy and pink, and they came together to form a slit that hid her inner lips and clitoris completely. He groaned with desire he could barely contain any longer.

"I'm going to give you a gift. But you have to spread your legs and close your eyes, Lacie. It's a surprise gift."

Lacie smiled, uncertain what he was about to do, hoping he would pierce her and make her his own by filling her with his seed. She imagined it would be hot and fill her with his passionate heat. But that was not to be. Instead, she felt his lips upon hers, caressing, just as he had started off with on the lips he had kissed earlier on her face.

Her scent was overwhelming, now, and his mind was melting from its effects. His stiffness demanded immediate access, pulling even his heart strings in its fervor, but his mind demanded patience. He looked again, up close, at her flower, never before seen by any man, never touched, or kissed, or taken. He would be able to introduce his daughter to the world of lovemaking the way he had always wished he had been. If that was the only thing they got out of this, he decided it would have been worthwhile.