Lucky Fall

Author's Note : Thanks to all those who've poured in their comments, compliments (a lot of that!) and criticisms (thankfully, only a handful of that! Mostly out of goodwill, I suppose.) for all my stories, making me want to write again, making me want to be better... I know I am becoming more and more infrequent with my contributions, but it's unavoidable. I have written more stories than I've ever planned to, submitting them to only three of the best sites on the 'Net, each a leader in its own right. My thanks to Literotica.com, the fans of the site, MY fans ... I was quite surprised to learn of their existence!...

Perhaps with more, JayBee.

PS And keep writing in...

"Hi Daddy!" chirped my eighteen-year old daughter as she came into the house. I had my back to her as I was busy preparing something for her to munch on, and she hugged me from behind. Her soft breasts pressed against my back, giving me a familiar sense of heat at the touch, but it was something I had learned to live with. Her hands snaked over my chest and brushed my lips.

"Hi sweetie-pie!" I replied, kissing her fingertips. Stephanie giggled. It was a lovely sound, ringing clearly in my ears.

"Hmmm! Smells nice... whatcha cooking?"

"Nothing special," I replied, "And what smell?" I never knew dough had a smell.

"I'm talking about you, silly," my daughter replied, giving me a playful jab as she moved a step backward. "Nice cologne. Very sexy."

"Thank you." It was not the first time she had commented that something was 'sexy' about me, and I have to admit that it was extremely gratifying to hear it from her lips. I mean, it's not everyday that I get complimented by a girl who is nothing if not a knockout. I turned around.

Stephanie leaned over and kissed the tip of my nose. It was a tradition that we had started back in her first grade, and it was something she hadn't yet gotten over. We were pretty expressive around the house, and although it did sometimes make me uncomfortable not to reveal how intensely I felt attracted towards my own daughter, I was careful not to let it on.

At just a couple of inches shorter than I, Stephanie had no problem in reaching my height. She was the only red-head on the block, with brown eyes and dark eyebrows. It seemed to give her a fiery touch, sensuousness into her friends-with-everybody approach. Her breasts - as a father, perhaps these should be beyond my scrutiny, but I have to admit that they were increasingly becoming more and more prominent to my eyes - were firm and high, at least a size bigger than her mother's.

Absently, my eyes swept over her body. The cheerleader's dress she had on revealed a lot of leg, lots more than I would have thought proper had I not been so interested in the view of the tanned flesh. They appeared sculpted, sinew and softness combined to make one deadly combination.

"Earth to Daddy! Earth to Daddy! Come in..." Her voice broke into my reverie.

"Oops!" I replied, embarrassed to have been caught ogling her. "Sorry, hun. How was practice today?"

She grinned at me. "Not bad. Not bad at all. All those boys were staring at me most of the time though, you know, just like you were, half a second ago."

I shook my head ruefully. "You really can't blame them. With legs like those, who needs - " I suddenly shut up, realizing that I had about to say too much.

Steph, on the other hand, wouldn't let go. She knew it was a compliment, and typical of girls, damned if she was going to let me off without hearing what it was. "Who needs... what?" She squeezed my palm gently. Her touch was soft. "Come on, Daddy, tell me. If you've got my legs, who needs what?" She puckered her lips, "Puh-leese!"

I had been about to say strangling-cord or something to that effect when the correct words came to me. "Anything else," I replied, "I mean, with those legs, who needs anything else?"

"Thanks," she said, giving me a peck on the cheek, "I think."

We have never been too modest inside the house - not that we were nudists, which would be an extreme - and walking around in my underwear was usually the way my bra-and-panties-clad daughter discovered me in the mornings. If my wife were also there, she would start off the day in just her panties. Thankfully, we don't have a son - the poor guy would have had more than enough trouble explaining his hardons over his mother's state of undress.

With such a liberal background, therefore, I was not very surprised when Steph whisked the top of her uniform over her head. It was the first Friday of her vacation, and the practice was the only thing on her calendar for the next two months, she told me, other than eat, sleep and beach.

"I'll be doing the laundry soon," I informed her, "So as soon as you take everything off, give me a call. I'll pick up your hamper." I was surprised to see that she hadn't worn a bra underneath her top - instead, she had put on a bikini top that was little more than two triangles held together by translucent strings. It even left a little of the undersides of her breasts exposed.

Stephanie slung the top over her shoulder. "I'll go one better," she said, "I'll strip in the basement, dump everything into the machine, then dash upstairs. We've got towels down there, right?" She was obviously referring to the cache of fresh towels that we stored in the basement.

"I guess," I replied, not just a little mesmerized by the way her cups strained the blue bikini top. "Look-see. I already emptied your hamper earlier today."

"Okay." I watched her walk down the hallway and turn into the staircase that led down to the basement. The thin string of the top was invisible against her back, and I groaned inwardly. From where I stood, she looked as if she were baring her tits. Ah, how I wished it were so!

Presently, within a minute, she called out to me. "We haven't got any soap."

"Sure we do, hun," I replied. "I'll be down in a sec."

"NO!" she shouted back. "I mean, I don't have a stitch of clothing on. And this darn towel is a little too short... I'm gonna dash upstairs, Daddy! Close your eyes, and don't peek!"

"Okay, Steph." In spite of all the openness, I had never seen my daughter naked. Not even a single tit. Sure I had seen her in bikinis, but a glimpse of her nudity was something that was still eluding my lifetime achievements. "I have my eyes closed," I lied. My eyes were locked on the basement door.

I heard her rush up the stairs, then stop. She peeked around the doorway, grinning as she saw me looking. "No peeking," she said, mock-sternly. "I'll tell Mom if you do!"

Because I knew she wouldn't, I decided to call her bluff. "Oh, really?"

The standoff lasted just a couple of seconds. Throwing caution to the winds, my daughter ran into the hallway and up the stairs, vanishing into her room and slamming the door behind her. She was fast, but she hadn't been fast enough - I had seen enough.

I had seen her breasts!

The towel - if it could be called that - was a strip of cloth that was wrapped around her waist. It was too little to cover her chest, and I had seen her mounds bouncing with each step. She had been too far away to see anything else, but I knew a winner when I saw it. And her tits could definitely put every other counterpart, including those of my wife, into shame.

I was still thinking of my daughter's boobs when I started towards the basement.

I was still thinking of my daughter's boobs when I missed a step and tumbled the last few steps and crashed into the hard floor.

And I was still thinking of my daughter's boobs when reflexes took over and I gave a bloody scream of pain...

Apparently, it was loud enough for Steph to have heard it all the way upstairs. Even as she bounded down the stairs, she started calling out my name.

"In here," I answered, "In the frigging basement." I had to clench my teeth to keep from screaming again. My right hand was underneath me, somewhat twisted out of shape, but my leg had really borne the brunt of the fall. The ankle was at a right angle with my leg, and I feared it would be more than a simple fracture.

"Oh God!" exclaimed my daughter when she saw me. I was still staring at the ceiling at that time, and it was only when she touched me that I turned to look at her. The dirty lecher that I was, the first thing I noticed was the way her wet breasts clung to the semi-transparent t-shirt that she had thrown on. It was quite evident that she was naked under the top - I could see the dark spots of her nipples.

Steph removed my hand very gently. It was already swollen at the joint, and as purple as I had ever seen something of the same color. "Does it hurt?" she asked, concerned.

For a second, I felt guilty. Here I was, hurt, and I was totally concerned with my own daughter's anatomy, while she was more worried about my well-being. "Only when I laugh," I cliched weakly.

She smiled back. "So don't laugh."

As I stood up, I couldn't help but notice that all she had on was the wet t-shirt. Fortunately, for I have always believed in the silver lining of the darkest clouds, the injuries were totally on my right side. With a great deal of effort, Steph managed to get me into a limping position. She had her hands quite firmly on my waist, slowly but surely supporting me back step by painful step.

On retrospect, I remember being slightly disappointed that she was wearing panties. It wasn't much, but it wasn't the same as watching her naked ass either.

We walked into the living room just as my wife rang the doorbell. She was back for the weekend - stationed at the FBI office at Atlanta didn't leave her enough time to commute to office everyday. She was always home for the weekends, though, and that was when we made up for the lost time. I was sure our sexual indulgence during those times was not lost on the very impressionable young woman we were raising.

Three weeks, said the doctor. "That's how long it will take for you to even be allowed to move your hands."

"Three weeks?" The painkillers had rendered my hand and foot numb while they were being bandaged, and it wasn't exactly a feeling I wanted to have for five more weeks.

"You are lucky," the physician pointed out. "A little this way or that, and we would have had a compound fracture. As it is, you have been extremely lucky, I should say. A sprain, no matter how severe, is always better than any fracture."

He glanced at my attractive spouse. "Besides, I don't think you should complain about having her to wait on you for three whole weeks. Just think of all the perks, Harry." I conceded that point. Perhaps, I hoped, Jamie would stay at home for at least a month. Now that would offset whatever pain I had to endure...

Later that night, as I prepared myself for a very careful sleep - I daren't risk rolling onto my inflamed limbs - Jamie excused herself and asked Stephanie to follow her. Probably thinking that I was still asleep, my wife didn't bother to lower her voice. I could hear every word of what she was saying.

"Steph, honey, I need to ask you a favor."

"Shoot, Mom."

"Actually, I've got this, um, program, training and stuff, next week. In fact, I was supposed to report at New England on Sunday, and I don't think I will be able to cancel it. It's my one chance to get into field duty... what I want to ask is, could you take care of your father? Just for a month or so..."

"Sure thing, Mom, but I don't think Dad would appreciate your going back so soon..."

"Harry wouldn't like it, I know, but I am sure he would understand it. He's always been there for me, and I know if I ask him straight, he'll probably tell me to go. But I feel guilty leaving him like this -”

"That's alright, Mom. After all, you are leaving him in good hands, you know."

"That's the only thing I am sure of right now. And hun, sorry if this cuts in on your vacation plans -”

"The only vacation plan I had involved only three things, Mom, and that's sunbathing, eating and sleeping. I'll see if I can sneak this into my appointment book, okay?" From her sound, I guessed Stephanie was smiling.

"Thanks, kiddo. I owe you one."

"Don't worry, I'll take you up on that sometime."

"Now that's something that scares me." Mother and daughter laughed. It was so sweet to hear their combination. I realized how much they meant to me, individually and together, and for a second, actually felt jealous. I don't know what it was that I felt jealous about, but I did feel left out.

"There's another thing you have to consider, Steph," my wife added. "Your father's going to need all the help he gets. He can't put any wait on his right leg, and he can't support himself on his right side; you'll have to substitute for that. And he has this rather irritating habit of wanting to pee in the middle of the night... AND, at least for three or four weeks, you might have to dress him, undress him... I hope you get my point."

Stephanie was silent for a moment. I didn't know what to hope for - that she would say no and spare me the embarrassment, or, if she said yes, that we would be more physically intimate in the days to come. I was glad the decision was Stephanie's, and not mine, to make.

"Okay," she said at length. "I'll do it. But you owe me big time, Mom. Remember that!"

"After I come back," Jamie promised our daughter, "I'll get you whatever you want!"

"I heard that," I said loudly, deciding that it was time I stepped into the dialogue, "What about me?"

"You were supposed to be sleeping," Jamie chided as she and our daughter walked back into the room.

"So sue me," I countered.

"I've got a better idea," my wife replied, licking her lips seductively. "But it'll have to wait until I come back."

"When are you leaving?"

She cast me an apologetic look. "Tomorrow, if it's okay with you. I hope you understand, Harry, it's my first and quite possibly, it's my only chance to be an active agent. It's something I've worked for..."

I gave her hand a reassuring squeeze. "Like you said, I don't like it that you have to leave so soon, but hey, I want to see you get your due. Go for it, girl, and when you come back, we can celebrate."

"Thanks a bunch, Harry, dearest," my wife cooed, a big smile now on her face. She moved closer and kissed me on my lips, gently, parting and inserting her tongue into my mouth. We French-kissed for a minute before our daughter interrupted us. "Cut it out, you two! I don't want to be able to tell my friends that I saw my Mom getting boned by Dad."

"Yeah," my wife agreed, pulling away with an embarrassed grin at Stephanie's sarcasm. "I can do without the competition, thank you."

I glanced at the clock - it read ten to ten. Stephanie followed my gaze and pointed out the obvious. "Time to sleep."

She turned to Jamie. "Mom, since I've got to sleep in here from tomorrow onwards, why don't I sleep here tonight? Sort of like a trial run. If Dad gets any funny feeling, I need to know what to expect."

My wife giggled. "The only funny feeling your father gets is between his legs... Okay, if you want to. You can sleep with Daddy tonight. I'll take the couch."

"You can have my room," Steph offered, already sliding in between the sheets on her mother's side of the bed.

"Gee, thanks honey, didn't know you had such a big heart," my wife kidded. "But aren't you gonna take off your clothes?"

The question was asked so matter-of-factly that both Stephanie and I knew immediately that my wife had been quite sincere. She herself was unbuttoning her blouse, and took it off. Next to go was her knee-length skirt. Her bra completed the pile on the floor.

Stephanie crawled out of bed. Being her mother's daughter, she had never been one to back off from anything. Wordlessly, she unhooked her shorts and they fell at her feet. Her turtleneck was off the next instant, and I had a glimpse of her flat tummy when the t-shirt she had on underneath - the one that had been wet earlier in the evening - slid up a little. Steph then pecked her mother goodnight, walked over to me, lightly kissed me on my lips, smiled her 'goodnight' and scooted back between the sheets.

"That's it?" my wife asked as she walked out of the door, not expecting an answer.

In a voice low enough for me alone to hear, I heard my daughter say, "For now." And then I drifted asleep.

By the time I awoke the next day, the sun was already more than a little way up in the sky. Jamie had finished packing her suitcases and was just about to wake me up when I opened my eyes. "Hi sweetie," she greeted me warmly. "You almost missed morning."

"Must be the pills," I said as I tried sitting straight. It was, as I discovered, a pretty difficult task, especially when you have just one hand to work with. My wife helped me sit upright. "I still feel a little woozy."

"It'll take a couple of days to wear off," my wife explained, sitting beside me. Her hands absently rubbed my thigh as she kissed me, her tongue gently finding its way into my mouth. I responded as best as I could, given that I had just one hand that I could use. Besides, neither of us wanted to hurt my right arm anymore and have it in a cast for a few weeks more. I could taste her lipstick on my lips when we pulled apart.

"Harry... if you want me to stay... all you have to do is ask."

With my left hand, I patted her cheek. "I know you will, so I won't ask you to. You deserve this chance, honey, and I don't want to stand in your way. And, before you have to explain, no, I don't think I am competing with your job. So go ahead, Jamie darling, and kick some ass."

"Thanks," my wife's voice shook a little, "I love you. You know that, right?"

I grinned at her, and gave her breast a little squeeze. "No, I didn't. You do?"

As my wife took a playful swipe at me, our daughter came into the room. She smiled at me and kissed me on my forehead. Once again, as I looked at her, lewd thoughts were starting to come back. Her halter top was a little lower than usual, showing off the top of her creamy breasts, and that it was a thin material was evidenced by the fact that her nipples could poke a little outwards. Her tight shorts emphasized her lithe legs and well-formed thighs. Her hair, unbraided, fell about her bare shoulders in wavy forms, looking soft and downy.

"Mom, your cab's here."

I suppressed an urge to say "Damn, do you have to leave so soon?" Instead, forcing myself to remain smiling, I shook my wife's hand. "All the best, Jamie. You don't need it, so convey that to the losers, okay? Just don't embarrass them too much."

"Okay, if you don't want me to," my wife quipped, "But there are some guys there I want to teach a lesson or two. A couple of jerks from my office - they don't think a woman can be good enough. MCP's!" She gave me a hug, then turned to embrace Steph too. "Take good care, you two. Especially you, Harry! And try not to ruin Steph's image about you, alright?"

"I'll try," I joked back.

I heard the cab drive away with a sense of dejection. I didn't want to dwell on it, though, for disappointments like these were often the springboard for rocky times in a relationship. Stephanie busied herself with the household chores, leaving me to my own thoughts, and I reminded myself that she had indeed asked me whether she could go.

Lunch was a quiet affair of potatoes and steak. Stephanie is a great cook, better than her mother and I put together, and the food was so tasty there were no leftovers for the night. I washed my mouth in the bed itself - Steph brought some hot water and a sponge towel, and fussed over me like I was a little kid.

Stephanie came back after dumping the plates into the dishwasher to find me struggling with the pillow behind me. "What are you doing?"

"Setting it up," I replied, surprised by how matronly she sounded. Her attire was still the same as it had been in the morning - or was it that the halter was just a little lower on her bosom now, showing more of her skin? My eyes were drawn to the generous amount of cleavage displayed, only to be averted because I feared I would get caught. "I can't get it properly behind me."