Rachel's Research Ch. 03: Emily & James

"How did things go from there?"

"Mum was killed not long after that. She was drunk and got hit by a car crossing the road. I didn't want to stay with my latest Stepdad in Spain - he was a drinker too - but I was still too young to live on my own so the Spanish authorities looked for relatives back in the UK who I could stay with.

"The first person I went to was my grandmother; Dad's Mum. Although she agreed to have me out of duty, she wasn't at all friendly at first. After a shaky start, she told me what had really happened between Mum and Dad; how he had tried to keep in touch but had nothing back either from me or from Mum. She said it had been very painful for him so she had advised him to stop trying and eventually he had stopped.

"I told her what Mum had told me about Dad just abandoning us. A short time later we were both crying. Eventually she agreed I could stay with her for a few weeks while we all decided what was best for me long-term. I moved into her spare room and started at the local Sixth-Form College.

"How did school go?" Emily laughed.

"Not too well at first. I thought I was so cool having lived in the sun in Spain with all that glamour. I hated the cold weather but insisted on dressing as if I still lived somewhere hot. I wore very short skirts, often without tights and short sleeved tops in all weathers. Not surprisingly I didn't make many friends."

"What about your Dad?"

"Grandma was very protective of him. It seems Mum going off and taking me away had upset him for years. She said he hadn't had a relationship since then that had lasted more than a few months. She wouldn't give me his address or phone number but said she would pass on anything I wanted to write.

"I would have been too nervous to meet him straight-off anyway so after I'd been living there for a few months, I sent a note saying that, if he wanted to get to know me, he should get in touch on Facebook."

"And he did?"

"He made contact the very next day and we started an online conversation. It was awkward but over the next few days he confirmed what really happened between him and my Mum and asked why I never replied to any of his letters or birthday cards. I told him I hadn't had any.

"We arranged to meet for a coffee in London after school. I was so nervous all day I thought I would be sick but I went along anyway, armed with his homepage picture from Facebook to recognise him by.

"How did it go?" I asked.

"Well after all those years, it was always going to be awkward. But after a lot of frowning and resentful looks we actually began to talk to each other properly."

"And it went well?"

"It went very well; I couldn't believe it. It was like a snowball rolling down a hill. One we started talking, we couldn't stop. The more we talked, the more we found we had in common and the more we had in common, the more we talked."

"He didn't just criticise your Mum?"

"Far from it. He took his share of the blame for the break-up and felt very guilty he hadn't fought harder to keep in touch. I think he felt more guilty than angry. We talked for nearly three hours. I had the coffee shakes by the time we had to go."

"When did you meet again?"

"The next day we met for lunch, then the day after he took me out for dinner. It was amazing being with him; as if I'd discovered another part of me. After so many years apart, we were so happy in each other's company."

"So how long did it take before you realised this wasn't just an ordinary father - daughter relationship?"

"I'm not sure I know what a normal father-daughter relationship is. I've never had one or seen one," she replied.

I supposed this was true.

"We'd been seeing each other for a couple of months before I realised how I really felt but to be honest, I reckon it started that first coffee. From the start, the atmosphere between us wasn't in any way 'family-like'. He started off being very formal and anxious but by the time we were on our second coffee I was telling him all my secrets; about my life in Spain, my schools, my friends there and how much I had wanted him to get in touch. I'd never felt about anyone the way he made me feel even that first day."

"You'd never had a father figure before?"

"Mum's boyfriends hadn't really tried. Mum was so demanding and so possessive that she kept all their attention to herself - apart from the times one or two of them tried it on with me, of course.

"From then on it was never more than a couple of days between meetings. We went to restaurants, went to movies or sometimes just went for walks so we could talk. By the end of our first walk we were holding hands - it could have been like any father and daughter, but I already knew it wasn't.

"Soon we were seeing each other several times a week and going out together on Friday or Saturday nights too; our meetings became more like dates than family outings. I started to stay over in his house after those dates too."

"Didn't he have a girlfriend already?"

Emily blushed.

"They broke up. He was seeing so much of me that she gave up on him. Dad told me it wasn't a big romance - they weren't ever going to be married or even live together but still..."

Her voice faded away.

"When did you realise the way you were feeling was becoming sexual?"

"I had so little to compare it to, I didn't see it coming. Before I realised it was happening, I was in love with him, couldn't wait for our next date and was daydreaming about him to the point of distraction."

"You fell in love first?"

"Completely. But lust followed very soon afterwards."

"Did he seduce you?" I asked.

She shook her head.

"If anything, I seduced him," she replied with a slight laugh. "I certainly made the first real move."

"Did you realise what you were starting at the time?"

"Not at all. I just knew how strongly I felt about him. I'd never felt that strongly about anyone before. I suppose it was a combination of love and lust; all I knew was that this was the man I had been waiting for."

"You wanted to have sex with him, knowing he was your genetic father?"

"You've got to understand, it didn't feel as if he was my father. He was just James, the man I was falling in love with. Having sex with him just felt like the right thing to do," she answered honestly. "Like a natural progression from the love that was developing between us. I know it sounds crazy but I just knew it was the right thing."

"Do you want to tell me the details?" I asked. "I'm not easily shocked."

Emily pretended to be considering the idea but we both knew that this was what she had wanted from the start.

"It was Saturday night in the summer. I was eighteen. I was still officially living with my Grandma in Twickenham although Dad and I were seeing each other two or three times a week.

"Grandma was encouraging it; she had a busy, active life herself and was pleased to see her son so happy. Sometimes we would go out to eat, sometimes to the cinema but more and more we were just hanging out together either in his place or the local pubs. I used to stay over with him in North London afterwards then go to work from there the next day.

"That night we had eaten early in the flat, split a bottle of wine then gone to the cinema. It was a horror film so I was holding his hand in the darkness. I had pulled it onto my knee. It was hot that summer so I was only wearing a short cotton sun dress and his hand was on my bare leg.

"It felt really good and the movie was good too so I hardly noticed and definitely wasn't bothered when his hand moved up my thigh. By the time the movie reached its scary climax his fingers were right between my thighs and touching my knickers."

"He groped you in the cinema?" I asked.

"It wasn't like that. My hand was on his the whole time." She giggled. "To be honest, it might even have been me moving his fingers towards my panties. Anyway, after the movie we were both a bit giggly and went to a pub on the way home. It was crowded and a band was playing but we fought our way in and eventually got served.

"The music was good, we had a couple more drinks. As it got later, it got more and more crowded until we were pressed really close together when we danced. I could feel his hands on my waist and a lump in his jeans. It was big and hard."

"How did that make you feel?"

"I'm not sure. It certainly didn't frighten me. In a way it made me feel good to think I had turned him on. It turned me on too."

"So what happened next?"

"Eventually it got too busy even to dance so we squeezed out and got a cab home. We were both still giggling in the back seat and he put his hand high on my thigh again. I liked it."

From the sparkle in her eye, she was really enjoying telling her tale. I let her continue uninterrupted.

"It was well after midnight when we got back to the flat. We were both a bit tipsy so we decided to go straight to bed. When we said goodnight in the kitchen, Dad went to kiss me on the cheek as usual, but something went wrong and he kissed my lips instead."

"Just by accident?" I challenged.

The look on Emily's face told me there was more to it than that but she carried on.

"Then it just sort of happened. We started kissing properly; just lips first then it got hotter and hotter. Before long we were mouth to mouth and tongue to tongue, arms round each other and bodies pressed together. There was no great set-up, no seduction. It just started naturally as if it was the most normal thing in the world."

"How did it feel?"

"Wonderful! It felt as if it was always meant to happen. Yes, it did take me by surprise but only for a moment. I raised my arms around his neck, I felt his hands on my bottom and we kissed for a long time."

"How did it go from there?" I asked.

"Dad seemed to realise what was happening because he stopped the kiss suddenly and moved away. He kept saying he was sorry. I kept trying to kiss him again but he kept avoiding it. I could tell he wasn't angry; if anything he seemed more frightened but he kissed me on the cheek and went to his bedroom."

"Did you feel rejected? Vulnerable?"

"Vulnerable certainly but for some reason, not rejected. Maybe it was the look on his face. I could see the love and pain when he stopped kissing me. I got into my night dress and lay awake on the bed for ages just thinking about him and how much I loved him."

"What was it like in the morning?"

"I didn't let it get that far. After an hour or so rolling on the bed, I knew what I wanted and what I had to do."

She took a deep breath. I waited silently for her to continue.

When Emily did continue, her story was heartfelt but disjointed, punctuated by emotion and several breaks for tears. What follows is her story but unashamedly written by me as erotica rather than reportage.

Emily is content that it presents what happened and how she felt even if the words are more mine than hers.

I sat up in bed. My tummy was rumbling. I was really nervous; what if he rejected me properly and sent me away? It was a big risk but I had to find out if he felt the way I did and the way he had looked when we parted.

Rising slowly from my bed, I padded silently across the carpet to my bedroom door, opened it and stepped out onto the landing. By the time I reached Dad's door, I was getting cold feet but the feeling inside me wouldn't let me back out.

My heart was thumping and I felt sick with nerves as I turned the handle but I had to find out. I opened his bedroom door and walked silently into the room. The curtains were partly open and the room had an eerie silvery glow from the moon and street lamps. Dad was sitting up in bed. He obviously hadn't been asleep either.

"Princess?" he whispered. "Are you all right?"

I didn't reply. Instead, with my tummy full of butterflies, I reached down, took the hem of my night dress in both hands, peeled it up my body, over my head and dropped it on the floor then stood completely naked in front of him.

He gasped.

"What are you...?"

He began to speak but the words seemed to catch in his throat. A moment later I had crossed to the other side of his large double bed, lifted the duvet and slid my naked body alongside him.

I could feel the heat of his warm, masculine form against my cool skin and realised he was naked too.

"Hold me," I whispered.

"Princess I..."

"Shh! Just hold me. Please."

The man I loved took me tentatively in his arms and held my body close to his. It felt incredible; warm, reassuring, safe but with a powerful sexual overtone that made me tremble. His cock was already erect. He tried to hide it from me but I had pressed myself against him. I could feel it against my belly so hard and large that I almost lost my nerve.

But I had started this; I had deliberately sent my father a message so clear and unambiguous that there were only two possible outcomes; rejection or copulation.

I wanted the second more than anything in my life before. The first was unthinkable; if he rejected me I had no idea what or how strong my reactions might be. If accepted me... would I be able to handle so big and strong a man?

"Are you sure you want this, Princess?" he asked anxiously.

"Do you?" I whispered in return.

"More than you can possibly imagine," he kissed the top of my head.

A bolt of elation flashed through me.

The man I loved had not rejected me; an immense feeling of relief washed over me as I surrendered myself completely, giving myself to my first real lover to use in any way he wanted; trusting him to treat me with love and gentleness.

"Then I'm sure," I replied, moving even closer and raising my face towards his.

James touched my cheek with a fingertip then ran it along my jawline. His eyes were soft and loving, his pupils huge; the expression on his face adoring and adorable. He placed his finger under my chin and slowly lifted my mouth towards his.

Our lips met again, but this time our naked bodies met too, a full skin-to-skin embrace in which our lips, arms and legs all touched then intertwined.

I could feel my life changing as our bodies merged.

Although a few boys' hands had been on my body and my lips knew what it was like to feel the touch of a male mouth, these had been naive, clumsy fumblings with many clashes of teeth and numb lips afterwards. Even my loss of virginity had been illicit, hidden and rushed. From the moment my father's lips and body touched mine, I knew this was different.

Words cannot describe the next few moments but they will remain carved into my soul until my last breath. Even now, years later and with his baby in my belly, my memories of our first sexual encounter are still raw and strong, though now they have an even deeper meaning.

I could feel his whole body go tense, as if fighting the urge to take me quickly and forcefully. My father is a big man in every way but the love in him quickly overcame the lust. Even so I was nervous. Though I already knew how it felt to have a man's erect penis inside my body, I was still very inexperienced.

There was fear, but not fear of pain. My trust in him was absolute. In fact in a strange way I actually wanted to feel pain in making love to him, as if pain would cement the love I felt and which I prayed he felt for me. I was nervous too, but mostly worried that my inexperience might disappoint him.

I needn't have worried. From the moment I felt the warmth of my father's breath on my cheek and the softest, lightest brush of his lips against mine I knew I had been right to put myself completely in his hands. Even the embrace we had enjoyed earlier that evening faded in comparison with the emotions and sensations that surged through me as he enfolded me in his arms.

As my father's hands began to explore my flesh I was shaking with nerves. I tried hard to control it, not wanting him to think me in any way reluctant or unwilling. I was most emphatically not unwilling; this time my head, my heart and body were all aligned.

I wanted this to happen and to happen now.

His hands and lips began to explore my still, compliant body, tentatively at first as if fearing my reaction but, meeting no resistance, quickly gaining in boldness and confidence.

I felt his palms on my sides, my hips and my buttocks, I felt his fingers on my still-small, pointed boobs. My nipples were so hard they almost hurt. I felt his tongue deep in my mouth as his hands brushed over my slightly-padded tummy and toyed with my belly button.

I was too nervous and inexperienced to touch him in return, but my body writhed instinctively against his fingers and I pressed myself against his strong, masculine frame, reeling in the sensations that rolled over me as his searching hands explored my sensitised flesh.

Eventually his gentle, dextrous fingers found the soft downy triangle between my thighs. I shivered, my knees pressing together instinctively as if to keep him away from this last secret place.

"Still okay Princess?" he whispered.

I nodded.

"You're trembling. Do you want me to stop?"

After a second or two I shook my head emphatically.

Our faces were only inches apart, his warm breath on my cheek as for the first time, my father began to finger me. There, in his bed and with my complete co-operation, his long, searching fingers began to explore the wet, weeping slit between my thighs.

The legs that had closed so tightly now fell open, surrendering complete, unrestricted access to my most private places. He took full advantage, stroking from the base of my slit, across the entrance to my near-virgin vagina and upwards to my almost undiscovered clitoris where he rubbed in little circles around and over my nub.

I had never known arousal like this, not even before my defloration and certainly not during it. The orgasm that rippled through me came like lightning, was entirely unexpected and made my whole body shake uncontrollably.

Dad paused as I came, his expression anxious as if worried he had hurt me. Once he realised what was happening, he resumed his attentions with a smile, bringing a second, more intense climax, then a third. Our faces were so close that our noses rubbed together, my eyes wide open in shock as the waves of pleasure washed over me.

My memories of exactly what happened next are vague.

I remember the fingering coming to an end. I remember being rolled unresisting onto my back, my eyes never leaving my father's face. I remember him rising over me, parting my legs with his knees, his big, strong body blocking out what little light was in the room.

I remember the feeling of helplessness as he reared up over me, his arms either side of my shoulders as if to prevent any chance of escape, but with escape being the last thing I wanted.

I remember him pausing, looking down on me, his features hard to determine in the darkness.

I remember feeling something large and smooth being rubbed up and down my slit. I remember feeling my juices flowing freely despite my nervousness. The smooth something found and parted my inner lips, working its way between them then pausing at the entrance to my vagina.

He was going to do it and I wanted him to.

My whole body stiffened in anticipation, my heart thumping as I lay underneath my father and lover. I had always known he was a big man but his body simply dwarfed mine. It was both reassuring and frightening at the same time, but it didn't change my desires; I wanted him inside me. I needed him inside me. It was just a matter of how hard it would be and how painful.

But I wanted to feel that pain; I wanted to be his woman. I wanted to know the pain so many women - including my own mother had known in his bed.

A warm glow rippled through my tummy and a faint but distinctive earthy aroma wafted towards my nose as my body prepared itself to be penetrated.