The soft trill of the bedside telephone startles me awake. I roll over and blearily un-dim the time display on the clock radio. Jesus! 12.10am! Who on earth…?
The ‘phone is still ringing. I pick up the handset.
“Hello…?” I say warily. I never give my name. A woman living by herself is always vulnerable.
There is no response from the other end, just the light sound of someone breathing.
A cold chill invades my stomach. “Hello… Is anybody there?” I say more stridently, hoping that the rising tide of panic does not show up in my voice.
This could be one of those dorks in my class at College fooling around. I am beginning to get angry now. “Look, I’m going to put the ‘phone down! And if you call back again, you will have to deal with my husband!”
The male voice on the other end of the line is pitched very low. “Fleur, it’s me…”
“Yes…sorry if I scared you honey. I couldn’t sleep and rang you on an impulse. Then, when I heard you answer, I felt kind of stupid…”
‘Are you okay? Is everything all right?”
“Yes, I’m fine…”
“Is it Mum? Is there something wrong with her?”
“No, don’t worry, she is fine as well…fast asleep in fact…”
“I’m afraid so…”
My mother’s menopause arrived unusually early and with it a glandular disorder that saw her shoot from a petite size ten to a bloated caricature who is hardly able to walk; all in the space of about six months. Poor Mum can only sleep on her back, which causes her to snore loud enough to wake the dead. Dad has taken to sleeping in the lounge of our two-bedroom house as a result.
“Are you downstairs?”
‘Ummm, no…I hope you don’t mind… I’m in your room… That’s why I needed…it smells so much of you…your perfume that is…what’s it called again?”
A small shiver of pleasure ripples through me that you are calling me from my room at home.
“Come on, Daddy! You know full well what perfume it is! You buy it for me after all!”
It is a little joke you and I endlessly tease each other with; one of many that makes Mum complain, “You two have a little secret society going!”
“Oh, okay then…”
I can hear the pleased laughter in your voice. The perfume is Revlon’s ‘Charlie’. Significant, because your first name is Charlie – to me alone. To everybody else in the world you are ‘Charles’. If anyone dares to transgress, the icy stare from your bright blue eyes will freeze their bones to the marrow. You once frightened Mum’s brother Clem with it so much one day when he and Auntie Jane came over for a barbecue, he fled to the bathroom and threw up.
“So, what are you doing in my room?”
“Just standing there…or sitting down?”
“A little bit more than sitting…”
Another small thrill of excitement surges through me at the thought that you may be stretched out on my bed. I know that you sleep in a pair of boxer shorts and nothing else.
“Lying down then?”
“Yes…I guess you could say that… And how’s my little girl getting on at The Big University? Is she looking after herself properly?”
“Of course I’m looking after myself, Daddy! And my studies are going well.”
“That’s good. Quite the social life I suppose, with lots of boyfriends?”
“Not really, Daddy, and no, not lots of boyfriends…”
My socialising with the other students is just about zilch. I am so glad I don’t have to stay in the Halls of Residence! I find most of the other girls in my freshman year to be a bunch of silly ninnies. And the guys are all beer swilling morons with whatever brains they may have, dangling between their legs. You and Mum scrimped and saved for many years to get me here so I can study for my Earth Sciences degree, and you are covering the rent for the tiny two-room apartment I am in now as well. So what if the others think I am stuck-up? I am here to work hard and repay you both for the sacrifices you have made to get me a good education.
I finish, “…not even one boyfriend.”
“Not even one! I find that very hard to believe…a lovely girl like you…”
“Would you like me to be going out with lots of guys then?”
You are silent for what seems like a long time. At last you mutter, “No…not at all.”
Warmth stirs in my belly.
I am curious about your situation there. I ask you: “So you are laid out on my bed…is the light on?”
“Just the little lamp by the side of the bed…when did you put the pink bulb in it? And, ahem, I am not exactly ‘laid out’ on your bed…”
I don’t have to guess. You are under the covers; inside the snug cocoon where I spent so many nights as a young girl and teenager, with my fingers exploring the slippery wetness while I imagined…daydreamed…
You chuckle softly; “Your entire collection of teddy bears is looking at me accusingly for being here…”
The warm glow in my belly bursts into a hot flame. You have always had that effect on me, for as long as I can remember.
I take a deep breath. My heart beats rapidly in my chest. My nipples tingle.
“It’s a very warm night…”
I can hardly say the words. My voice comes out as a high-pitched squeak, “Nothing at all?”
You are lying naked in my bed. You simply have to have an erection! I must share this with you! I drop the handset onto the counterpane beside me whilst I struggle frantically out of my PJs and then my panties. Nude at last, I kick the covers to the foot of the bed, tipping the handset onto the floor in the process. I scrabble around in the dim light and eventually find it hiding right underneath the bed. My breathing comes in ragged gasps as I bring it back to my lips.
“Are you still there?”
“Of course! What was all that about?”
“I am the same as you…”
“Oh gosh! I wish I could see you…”
“You will have to imagine…what I am doing now…” My thighs fall apart of their own accord. Their soft inner flesh gleams palely in the faint glow from the clock radio.
“Tell me you are opening your legs…”
“My legs are open…”
“I have always wanted to see you like that, you must be so beautiful…”
I feel moisture leak from my sex and slide slowly down between my buttocks.
“You remember what my figure looks like that well?”
“You have only been away a couple of months. Besides, I am cheating…I have the photographs from the boat here with me…of you in your swimming costumes and bikinis…all of them, right from when…”
You inherited the old clinker-built, yawl-rigged, two-berth sailing yacht from Granddad when he died. Mum hates the water, but you and I love it. We spent hours alone together, sailing and fishing…well, you would fish while I sunbathed.
My fingers trail down over my trembling belly and find the springy curls of my bush. The trickle between my thighs is now a small flood. I twirl my hairs in my fingertips.
“Daddy…have you always wanted to look at me with no clothes on?”
“Even when I was only…?”
“Yes, even then…and then you began to bud and it became ever more difficult not to do something more than just take pictures of you…but I think you know that already, don’t you?”
“How did you guess?”
“Sometimes, when you undid the straps so that you wouldn’t have a bikini line on your back, you would lift up slightly on your elbows to say something to me…and give me glimpses of your lovely young breasts…”
“I remember you knocked yourself out one day…”
That day you got to see all of my breasts! I was teasing you so much; you accidentally put the boat into a gibe. The mainsail boom swung across without you noticing and struck you on the side of the head. When you collapsed to the cockpit floor, I was afraid you were badly hurt and, forgetting my nakedness, I rushed to your aid. When you came to, I was cradling your head on my bare chest. I don’t think you got to see much of my boobs though, your eyes looked really out of focus!
You laugh softly and say and ruefully, “Waking up to find my face resting on your lovely warm little pillows was like being in heaven. I would like to have stayed there all day, but you let out a squeal when you realised I had come to and ran back to the bows again to cover yourself up.”
My fingers dive in among my hot, plump folds. They find and caress my clit, sending delicious sparks up my spine.
“I was so young…and embarrassed because my boobs were so tiny…”
“You were perfect…I’ll bet you still are.”
My belly feels full…heavy. My nipples harden tautly in the night air. I have to know…
“Did you ever want to touch me as well as look?”
“Always… You wouldn’t believe the number of times I nearly took you down below, to where no-one else could see us…”
“Why have you waited so long to tell me all this…and why right now?”
“Because you were still a young teenager then…I was afraid you would hate me for saying such things…wanting to do such things to you… You are old enough now… I miss you so much…”
“I wasn’t too young to put my hands down under my bedclothes, where you are now, and touch myself while I pretended it was you…”
“Oh, my sweet darling, I know…I found a little notebook you kept…”
I should be blushing madly from you looking at the little record book I kept in my early teenage years of the number of times I masturbated and how many times I came, but instead I am pleased that you know that I did. No names are mentioned, but the references to the boat; ‘the big bulge in his shorts’; my wishing I could be ‘enfolded in his powerful arms’; and wanting to ‘feel his muscular chest pressing against mine as he strips me naked’, leaves no doubt about whom I was writing.
“Daddy, that day, if I had run into the cabin instead…would you have followed me?”
“I would have wanted to know if you were all right…”
“And if you had found me lying on one of the bunks waiting for you?”
“I would have…”
“I would have plucked up my courage and kissed your lips. And then, if you had responded, I would have admired your perfect little breasts and then kissed them and your tiny nipples until they swelled in my mouth…”
“I would have kissed every inch of your soft warm tummy while you and I between us peeled off your bikini bottoms and slid them down your thighs…”
My legs are spread as wide as I can pull them now. I suddenly remember that I can put the telephone on speaker mode. Now with both hands unencumbered, I am free to slide my left index finger languidly in and out of my sopping channel while I circle and gently tease my clit with the same finger of my right hand. The sheet beneath my bottom must be soaking wet!
“If you were willing, I would have parted your knees…”
I would have been so, so willing!
“Ooooh, Daddy, I can almost feel you doing it! What would you have done next?”
“And I would have kissed your springy golden curls and then gone down with my tongue into your juicy, delicious little pussy, and lapped up your nectar until…”
“Would you have asked me to touch you?”
“Afterwards…after I had made you cum with my mouth…”
Your description almost makes me cum right now, but I fight it off.
“I would have wanted to be the one to undo your shorts, Daddy, and pull them down…while you knelt over me so that I could see and touch everything!”
“And while you were touching me, my darling, I would have returned to your pussy with my fingers…to prepare you…
“Daddy, I am touching my pussy now…are you…?”
“You would have had sex with me?”
“We would have made love together…”
A bolt of lightening flashes through me, and my belly convulses.
“How…” I gasp, “How would we have done it?”
“I wouldn’t have wanted to crush you with my weight. And I would have wanted to see you still…to be able to touch your body at the same time as… I would have got you up onto your hands and knees… Then I would have asked you to take hold of my…”
“My cock and guide it into the little nest…”
“Into my cunt, Daddy…”
“Yes, darling, into your lovely tight little cunt…”
I scoot onto my knees with my cheek resting on the pillow, with my lips close to the bedside cabinet and the telephone base unit. Moaning feverishly, I plunge two then three fingers past my wide-stretched pussy lips, deep into my slippery entrance!
I am not a virgin. To my eternal regret, a half-drunken, sweaty, awkward, bloodily painful and smelly episode in the back seat of Dominic Wilson’s Chevy Hotrod after the Senior Ball at High School saw to that. It was such an embarrassing disaster, Dominic and I couldn’t even bring ourselves to speak to each other again afterwards, let alone try it again. It would have been so much better, so much more loving and tender with you!
“I can feel you, Daddy! I can feel your big hard cock sliding into my tight cunt, stretching the walls and opening me up. You feel so wonderful! So big and powerful! Give me all of you, deep inside me! Take me! Make me yours!”
I work my fingers inside me, grinding my clit on my palm and calling on you to run your hands all over me, to fuck me, to bury yourself in me and to fill my womb with your hot seed. A keening tension takes over my entire body. My thighs shake; my breasts and belly cry out for release. I ache from wanting you, to share the cataclysm with you as one being!
I hear you call out, “Fleur!” and I cum. A firestorm of pleasure crashes through me. I collapse, lying prostrate on the bed with my fingers still buried deep in my convulsing channel. I know I am dribbling into my pillow, sobbing and calling out words, but I have no idea what I am saying.
It seems as if it is taking hours for the clamour within me to subside to a luxurious, warm, heavy glow, yet I know, in reality, only a few minutes have passed. Smiling smugly to myself and stretching like a sun-dazed cat, I roll onto my back. My hair clings to my forehead in sweaty strands. The insides of my thighs are slick with my moisture. The bedsheet feels sticky and wet under my back.
“Jesus, Fleur! I felt that from here!”
I feel ripe, as if my skin is stretched to bursting point, as if you have just impregnated me. I whisper softly, “Then imagine how it was for me!”
“I can’t…I don’t think any man can experience such intensity…”
“Daddy, did you…?”
“Oh yes!” You laugh quietly, “I’m afraid I made quite a mess of your sheets.”
“Leave them on the bed like that. I will wrap them around me when I next come home and know you are next to my skin.”
We lie quietly, listening to each other’s breathing. When you break our silence, your voice startles me: “Fleur…it’s Friday tomorrow…Mum will be glad to get rid of me for a while…I could leave work early and drive up…I would be with you by seven-thirty…we could have two nights and almost two whole days together…”
“You are sure?”
“You will be hungry when you arrive. What would you like to eat?”
My fingers slide back between my legs as the urgent heat flashes back into my groin. I let out a small moan and you guess what that means, because you murmur warmly: “Fleur, my darling, don’t wear it out before I get there!”
I find my clit and the wonderful sparks begin again. You will love me once more tonight and then I will wait for you.
“Don’t worry, Daddy…I’ll be ready…!”