Safe and Warm

There seemed little else to share, but I was still reluctant to end our conversation. Finally, I mustered the strength, "Well, sweet dreams."

"You too," was the last I heard before the line went dead.

After a conversation of that nature, there was no way I could simply roll over and fall asleep. I knew I was being reckless, yet regardless of what the DNA test results revealed, I was determined to be a father figure or mentor for Kristin. It didn't matter that she was twenty years old, and I had missed all the pivotal moments of her life. I was sure we had a deep connection that could not be broken. If this was what unconditional love felt like for a child, I could get used to it.

My next free weekday afternoon, I stopped into a clinic near work. The process was painless, and they assured me my sample would immediately be sent to the applicable lab for testing, with results available within a couple weeks. I felt slightly guilty since I had grown so sure of the outcome. Why pay someone to tell me what I already knew, or maybe just hoped?

I have to admit, there was a part of me that wanted my life to remain uninterrupted, as if Kristin never existed. However, a larger force inside me relished the connection. In just days, I found a new side of me I could no longer ignore. For good or bad, Kris appeared stuck with me. Or perhaps, we were stuck with one another.

Kristin called me on the evening of my test but we had not spoken since. I assumed she was waiting for the results with baited breath, so I feared contacting her unnecessarily without any concrete information.

Inside I was ill at ease regarding the entire situation, but mostly about my unrestrained emotions. How could I justify the feelings I had been developing towards this young woman? Given the inner turmoil, I couldn't pick up the phone to chat idly. So, we each awaited the results on our own.

Over the next few days, I tossed and turned in bed incessantly each night. I had experienced bouts of insomnia before, but never like this. I simply could not shut my mind off, and it haunted me.

There was no way I could ask a mental health professional if my feelings were natural, because I was certain they were not. What exactly would I say? "So, Doc, I think I'm physically attracted to my daughter. That's cool, right?"

Left without better options, I chose to explore the internet. Alone with my laptop one evening, I typed 'father, daughter and love,' into the search box. Millions of hits popped up, but not of the type I was seeking. After adjusting my search a few more times to narrow the results, I finally hit paydirt - and learned a new phrase. "Genetic Sexual Attraction."

Thankfully, one site had loads of material devoted to the topic. I perused the scholarly text attentively, but only a few parts really resonated - mostly those of the enormous complexities in relationships between parents and their adult children.

One thing I gratefully garnered form the material was that I was not alone. Per the scientific evidence, there were numerous documented cases of family members struggling with sexual feelings for another. From one passage I learned the situation often manifested itself most strongly after extended absences, or as it read, "...particularly acute after long periods of separation."

Kristin and I had been separated since her birth -- a pretty darn long time. Had I been there for any of those cute childhood moments, I doubt I would have seen her as the woman she was today. If I had changed but one diaper things would be different, I was sure. Yet I had not.

The concept seemed almost fantastical, and I wondered if the supposed science was somehow just a twisted justification to rationalize incest by guilty parties after the fact. I had doubts about it all.

As I climbed into bed each evening, my mind recalled images of the lovely Heather Doyle. Almost immediately, my cock became hard as steel -- just as it had always done freshman year. As I stroked myself, thoughts invariably turned towards Kristin, and for the life of me I simply could not help myself. Rope after rope of cum soon rocketed from my body, leaving me as weak as a ragdoll.

After a long week, a few colleagues and I hit one of our favorite local watering holes the next Friday evening. With the heightened stress at work, and the uncertainty in my personal life, I needed an escape.

While typically on the mellower side, the place was pumping. And soon I was too. In recent years a drink or two was my max, yet I indulged far more than usual that evening. With a few glasses of Scotch whiskey under my belt, I soon found myself on the dancefloor with a nubile twenty-something named Carrie.

Although attractive, in my mind she paled in comparison to Kristin. But she was there. Young, warm and firm. And from the way she was grinding against me, apparently willing. After too many nights spent alone, I was ready for more.

Almost before the cab door had even closed, our mouths were fervently locked together. Carrie's hand rapidly nestled between my legs, where she began stroking my prick through my slacks.

Nibbling my earlobe, she gave my cock a quick squeeze, whispering, "Hmm, someone seems happy."

Without another word, she sprang into action. Leaning over, Carrie made quick work of my button and zipper, then eagerly consumed much of my cock within her warm, wet mouth.

At first, I simply closed my eyes and relaxed back into the seat, thoroughly enjoying her talented tongue. When I reopened them, I noticed the cab driver had tilted his rearview mirror downwards to take in the show. Although not an exhibitionist, at that moment I didn't care that we had an audience. I just hoped there was no compromising video of our tryst, like on taxicab confessions.

As we passed under streetlights, I could intermittently see the glow of Carrie's blonde locks as she bobbed her head up and down in my lap. The vision vaguely reminded me of Heather from many years before, which I fought to repress.

The drive home seemed far too short, as I hadn't yet come close to tossing a nut. After paying the driver, we hastily made our way inside and made our way to my bedroom.

We stood near the foot of my bed, kissing like ravenous teenagers. I finally broke our embrace and began undressing her. After peeling off Carrie's blouse and skirt, I had to stand back and admire her. Left in only a sexy set of matching baby blue underwear, she was simply amazing. Her large breasts were nearly spilling from the bra, while her high-cut panties made her legs look a mile long.

We kissed again while I removed her bra, then spun her around and pulled her back against my chest. I began kissing and nibbling her neck and shoulder while my hands cupped her soft tits. Carrie whimpered as I lightly twisted and pulled her nipples, while grinding my hard cock into her pillowy ass.

I then dropped to my knees; slowly planting kissed down her spine as I went. Grasping her undies at the hips, I deftly pulled them down her sleek legs. I was left staring at a beautiful bubble butt, and couldn't help but lean in and give it a playful nibble.

After rising to my feet once more, I picked Carrie up and forcefully tossed her on the bed. As I stripped my clothes off, her eyes seemed to devour me.

Normally I'm a very patient lover and adore showering my partner with attention. Yet for some reason, I was feeling selfish and needed to cum. After licking her tasty pussy for only a minute or two, I was ready to fuck. She was very wet and appeared ready too.

Although I hated condoms, I had learned my lesson from the paternity test and grabbed one from the drawer of my bedside table. After peeling the foil and rolling one down the length of my aching prick, I pulled the young minx up onto her hands and knees. Settling in behind her, I buried myself into her spongy flesh - inch by throbbing inch.

As we fucked, I was again struck by Carrie's glistening hair, and was momentarily transported back to the diner. I shook my head to focus on the task at hand, but images of the lovely Kristin kept drifting through my brain.

I fought to pull myself together, afraid I'd lose my erection at any moment. Thankfully, Carrie reached a hand between her legs, and ticked my balls with her nails. "Harder! Fuck me harder," she begged.

Jolted back to reality, I happily complied. Rocking against her butt, I had an impulsive thought. Almost on its own, my right hand lifted away from its grip on her hip, then came crashing down upon her ass with a sharp crack.

"Ohh," I heard her groan, yet it only appeared to spur her on and move against me more purposefully.

"You like that, don't you?" I asked.

"Yes!" Carrie hissed.

"Say yes, Daddy!" I barked, lost in my fantasy world.

"Yes, Daddy!" she screamed.

My hips thrust urgently, yearning for sweet release.

"Fuck me, Daddy! Please fuck me," Carrie begged as I pounded her relentlessly.

I ran my left hand up her torso, and grasped a handful of her golden hair. Twisting it between my fingers, I firmly pulled her head back as I redoubled my efforts, driving rapidly forward and back.

Feminine whimpers and groans reverberated around my bedroom, before she yelled, "Cumming, Daddy!"

Hearing the word, "daddy," in an overtly sexual context, was astounding. I could only think of one person while my body rocked uncontrollably, finally emptying my load.

After catching my breath and clearing my mind, I was truly horrified by my actions. The person alongside me in bed was not the one in my head I had just fucked.

I felt like an asshole giving Carrie money to pay for a ride home early the next morning, but my car was still at work. I only hoped she would soon forget my name and address. She had given me her number, but I was certain I would never use it. Well, highly unlikely anyway, I told myself - in spite of my increasing attraction to younger blonde women.

When I walked back from my mailbox the next Wednesday evening, I fanned the letters out in my hand. I scanned the usual bills, but found one unusual piece of correspondence with a return address from, 'Continental Testing Labs, Inc.' I had no definitive proof of the contents, but was willing to bet the house on what was inside.

I had promised to call Kris when the results came in, yet suddenly I was nearly frozen with fear. The fallout could be catastrophic for our budding relationship.

What if the tests proved negative? I hated the thought of crushing the sweet girl I had only recently gotten to know. And how would she then view her mom? Like someone with a laundry list of men to test like the tramps on the Maury Povich Show?

I solemnly pressed a finger to Kristin's contact number. Only seconds later, and before she could distract me with some innocent banter, I spoke soundly, "Got it."

"Oh," she exclaimed. After a measure of silence, she added nervously, "And...?"

I had assumed Kristin wanted us to learn the results together, but I quickly understood she just wanted to know the truth. I felt like an idiot for not having the answer. "Oh, jeez, sorry. Let me open it," I muttered apologetically.

I peeled back one corner and then eased my finger down its length. In spite of the growing desire for answers, I could only stare at the letter inside as the moment seemed so significant. After taking a deep breath I drew the pages out and unfolded them.

There were paragraphs about testing methodology, numerous charts of all styles and colors, and of course the requisite legal disclaimers. My eyes rapidly scanned the pages in search of the conclusion, and finally found it at the bottom of the fourth page. I first read it to myself.

"Benjamin Robert Barton does show the genetic markings which must be present for the biological father of Kristin Alexandra Doyle. Based on our analysis, the probability of Mr. Barton being the biological father of Ms. Doyle is 99.9999%."

After letting the words settle in for a few seconds, I read them aloud.

A joyous squeal rang in my ear, the likes of which I had never before heard. "Yes! I knew it was you! I just knew it!" Kristin barked gleefully, as I tried to picture her glowing face. I was taken aback when her tone changed almost instantly, somberly asking, "Are you...okay with this?"

I had been mentally preparing myself since the very first call. There was so much to say, but all I knew was the truth. "Yes, I'm happy. Really, really happy."

I heard a deep gasp, then silence.

The news must certainly have been overwhelming for a girl her age. Shit, it was nearly overwhelming for me too. My mind raced as I tried to process what she might be thinking.

There was an extended hush, before Kristin finally broke the ice with a pleading, "Ben?"

"Yes," I quietly replied.

"I'm...I'm so glad...you're my dad," she stuttered.

Tingles ran throughout my body upon hearing the word directed at me for the first time. Dad. Somehow it resonated deeply within me. "I'm glad too."

I heard a whimper before she asked, "Do you mean that? Like, really?"

There was no escaping - it was time to put up or shut up. Deep down, I felt it, and answered accordingly, "Yes, really. I think...I like being your dad."

Soft gasping sounds could be heard, as though Kris fought to suppress joyous sobs. I understood, as tears unexpectantly streaked my own face.

"I've dreamed about this," she sighed contentedly.

I didn't want to insult her by claiming this exact scenario was my life goal, so I truthfully replied, "I'm happy your dreams finally came true."

After another period of silence, Krissy meekly asked, "Are you sure you're not upset?"

My heart welled as the new reality settled in, "Not in the least." Unable to help myself, I continued, "Opening the envelope was like waking to the most amazing Christmas present ever. I feel like the luckiest guy in the world."

After another audible whimper, I heard a feeble, "I feel lucky too."

The tension seemed palpable, so I joked, "Guess you're stuck with me now. If you'll have me, that is."

"Yes!" she barked. "I love you...I mean, ahh...I'd love us to be, umm, you know...stuck...together." she stammered uneasily, clearly unable to hide a deep yearning. She said them, the three magic words -- I love you. Although Kris quickly attempted to downplay what she shared, I heard them loud and clear.

My ex-wife used the "L word" often, although typically towards anyone or anything other than me. Puppies, sunsets, James Taylor songs -- sure, she loved them all. As a result, I had learned to give it little credence.

Perhaps I'm old fashioned, but when accompanied by two other words, "I" and "you," it seemed quite different. No longer was it simply a throwaway. "I love you" mattered. I had long endeavored to only use it when I truly felt it. And at that moment, I felt it. Deeply. More importantly, I knew Kristin needed to hear it too. Before I could stop myself, I said, "I love you too, princess."

"Oh, Daddy," she mewed contentedly.

"Daddy." Somehow the soft way she spoke it rocked me to my core. It seemed more personal, more significant than even in my lurid fantasies.

The line remained silent for some time, before I heard a weak, "I love hearing you call me princess."

I could only smile. Perhaps we represented the final puzzle pieces needed to complete one another's lives. I was her dad and she was my daughter; a girl I barely knew but suddenly loved totally and completely.

"I want to see you!" Kristin then announced. I began mentally checking my appointment calendar for an opening, yet before I could respond with a date, she interrupted enthusiastically, "Soon!"

Kristin clearly wanted to begin our father/daughter relationship as quickly as possible, and I was right there with her. Fuck my work calendar, I needed to see my girl! After sharing my address, plans were made to meet the next evening after she finished work.

I left the office early the following afternoon, and arrived home on pins and needles. Somehow this young woman had me on edge, so I spent the ensuing hours nervously neatening up the house, in spite of the fact I had a cleaning girl who came weekly. I fretfully paced about, stopping repeatedly to peer out the window in anticipation of Krissy's arrival.

Around 9:15 pm, I heard the nearby thud of a car door. My pulse quickened and I again checked myself in the mirror to ensure I was presentable. When the bell rang, I anxiously made my way towards the entrance.

I had barely cracked the door when a whirlwind burst it wide open. "Oh, Daddy," Kristin moaned as she launched herself into my arms.

Stunned by her aggressiveness, I braced to capture her momentum. I quickly spun her around like a toddler, before planting her down directly before me. We peered intently into one another's eyes, then settled into the loving embrace of our lives.

"Hmm, warm," I heard, as Kristin wiggled in against me. "Safe and warm, just how I always imagined it would be in your arms."

Kristin had likely dreamed about her father for years; a man who would always love and protect her. I immediately realized I was now the guy tasked with keeping her safe, and resolved to do just that.

We reluctantly peeled ourselves apart to again gaze upon one another. The distressed eyes I had first seen in the diner weeks before were gone, replaced by sparking emerald jewels, alive with wonder.

Kristin ran her hands from behind my shoulders down my back. She then tilted her head up towards me and closed her eyes, an expectant look upon her lovely face - nearly identical to the expression I had witnessed from her mother years before.

Time suddenly stood still, and I couldn't help myself. As if reliving a dream, I leaned over, until our lips touched. Magic.

Kristin seemed to savor it too. Pressing herself lightly into me, she emitted a soft sigh, "Hmm."

The sound was music to my ears, giving me a subtle chill. My cock unexpectedly pulsed to life with every beat of my heart, so I had to break away.

I quickly ran my hands to Kristin's hips to gently guide her backwards away from me. "So, umm, welcome to my home," I gestured around with a wave, hoping to divert her attention elsewhere.

Kristin's cheeks were slightly flushed, as though she was just back from a brisk walk, making her appear only more lovely. I had no doubt my own cheeks were rosy too, given our shared intimacies.

After the initial exuberance of our meeting, I tried to regain my composure. As wild thoughts swirled through my brain, I fought to appear cool, "Nerves of steel, Ben. Nerves of steel."

Being a gentleman, I offed a tour of my home, which Kristin readily accepted. As we strolled around the house and grounds, she barely left my side. Over the next few minutes, we were rarely separated by more than inches, even before Kristin took me by the hand.

The brief tour concluded, we returned to the living room, where we sat alongside one another on the couch. Conversation was intermittent, yet things were never awkward. Any gap in our chat seemed to be an excuse for us to hug, which was more than okay with me.

Overcome by the moment, I sank my hands beneath her bottom and effortlessly lifted Kristin onto my lap. She immediately buried her forehead into the nape of my neck and wrapped her arms tightly around my shoulders. Other than occasional contented sighs, profound silence followed.

Kris's breathing steadily became softer, so I presumed she had nodded off. After the nervous anticipation of finally visiting my home, and the long drive, I had no doubt she was spent.

The calm moment provided a chance to ponder my personal storm. Sitting upon my lap, snug within my arms, was the most attractive young lady I had ever met. Songs had been sung and stories had been written celebrating women who surely paled in comparison. Although she was my daughter, my body reacted as it always had around most stunning creatures.