Serendipity 01: Snowstorm

"A few nights later, I couldn't fall asleep again, so this time I went right to my Dad's room and slid into bed. He was still awake then, and he asked me if everything was okay. I told him I was but asked if I could stay because I slept easier when I was with him. He hesitated a minute, but then he said, 'Sure, Honey.'

"And so we slept together at night. Sometimes we'd bump into each other and sometimes I would snuggle up against him and throw my arm over him, but never anything more. Then one night I must have been having a sexy dream, maybe about some guy at school I had a crush on, or maybe about some dreamy pop singer or hot movie star -- I don't know -- I was a teenaged girl with teenage hormones! Anyway, I guess my nightshirt slid up and I had thrown my leg over his and was rubbing myself against his thigh. At the same time, his body must have been telling him that he was a relatively young man who hadn't even had a date in years, let alone any sex, and here he was, lying next to a warm woman who was moving against him in a warm bed on a cold night.

"As I'd gotten older, I'd started looking like my Mom more and more. Also, I'd gotten a lot taller, so maybe he was in some half-awake state where he actually thought he was in bed with Mom, or maybe I just seemed so much like Mom that he couldn't help himself.

"Anyway, we started kissing, then hugging, and then he was inside of me, and then he rolled us over so I'd be on top and he wouldn't smother me. Believe it or not, I'd never had sex with anyone before, so it hurt a little (we discovered later that there was a little blood), but I felt so warm, and I surprised myself when I came. And, fortunately, he had recovered enough awareness to pull out before he came, and he came all over my tummy, and there was a lot, and we just lay there, and I felt so good and we hugged each other and kissed and didn't move for a long time. It was a more wonderful feeling than I ever imagined there could ever be."

Janey asked, "Yeah, but wasn't it weird? I mean -- your own father? I mean -- I'm really trying to understand this."

"If you'd asked me before it ever happened, I would have thought, 'Yeah, that would be weird.' But when it really happened, it felt so natural -- completely normal, even. I was an almost-grown girl, living with a handsome, kind man that I loved to pieces and who loved me more than anything in the world. He gave me wonderful feelings, and I knew that I would always be safe with him and that he would never, ever let anything hurt me. Is there anything 'weird' about that?"

Janey admitted that, no, there was nothing 'weird' about that, and "In fact, it sounds kinda like heaven." And I told her, "Yes -- you understand now."

"Of course, we quickly got me a prescription for birth control pills, and he bought some condoms -- can you believe that -- an unmarried guy who didn't even own a single rubber? We stuck with the condoms and oral stuff -- that was a nice surprise! -- until I'd been on the pill long enough to be sure they were working."

And then I got to what I wanted this night to really be about:

"We -- I -- didn't want to keep our relationship a secret from you any more, Jane. For two reasons, really. First, I didn't want to have this secret, and I thought that it was too important to keep from you. And I didn't want to have to have to keep carrying it around by myself -- I needed somebody else to share this with. And let's face it, there's not a lot of people we know -- even the ones who think they're so darned liberal and progressive -- that would be cool with the idea of a sexual relationship between a girl and her father. And I knew that if anyone could, it would be you who could understand our situation and accept what we have." I paused, and then said, "Was I right?"

Janey immediately hugged me and said "You know I can and I do and I love you, and I love your dad because he makes you happy," and we hugged each other and cried, and laughed a little, and then cried some more. Then she said, "Are those the two reasons?"

I took another breath and carefully said, "'No, all that was just the first reason. The second reason is that, well, ... Dad and I have talked about it ... and ... we're kind of worried about you."

"Me! Why on earth would you and your dad be worried about me?"

"Janey, let's face it -- you haven't been real good for more than a year. First, there was Kenny, when he decided he wanted to accept that so-called 'research assistantship' in Texas instead of coming home for the summer and that maybe the two of you should 're-evaluate your relationship,' yada-yada-yada. The asshole. The picture I got was that he was practically your fiancé, and then he just left you with that flimsy explanation. You were alone all summer.

"Since you've been back here, your life has been a steady downer. The few guys you've been out with have either been absolute duds or downright jerks, and you've been more and more dejected after each one. And we're worried. You've been acting depressed for months now. And it's getting worse.

"I think I know what you're experiencing, Jane. You need to feel loved. And I don't mean sex. You're totally hot and could have all the sex you want, no problem. You need to feel loved. I mean, you need the feeling of being totally cared-for. And, well, Dad and I looked at the situation and it became obvious -- you need what Dad and I have with each other."

"You mean me and your dad? No way! I could never do that!"

"No, you dummy! What I mean is, you need the same kind of relationship with your dad that my dad and I have. And you know what? I think your dad needs it, too. Take a good look at him, Janey. He's a good person and a great dad, but I think that in terms of his emotional state, he's basically in the same place you are. I've watched him. Dad has watched him. Janey, he's depressed -- for years, I'd guess -- and he's just powering through it. Look -- he's a great guy in every possible way, and he obviously loves his daughter and thinks the world revolves around her. And let's be honest -- I don't know if you can see it or not, but he's a hot dad! But he's also lonely. Jane, you already have a fine man in your life. He needs you -- even if he can't see it now -- and he loves you more than anything. You two just need to admit it."

********

"So what do you think about Lauren and her dad?"

I had to admit, I didn't know what to think. I had always viewed Lauren as smart and level-headed and nowhere close to being a rebel or radical in any way. The more I got to know her, the more pleased I was that she and Janey were roommates and that they had become such close friends.

I'd known her dad, Paul, for all the time the two girls have been roommates. He's about my age and height, maybe a bit taller, but not much. He kind of resembles movie actor Ben Affleck, only with 'less-chiseled' features. I'm not saying he looks like a movie star. I'm saying if you had to say who he reminds you of, it would be Ben Affleck. [Coincidentally, people say that I remind them of Matt Damon, except for the adorable nose. I mean, I have a nose -- it's just not Matt Damon-adorable.] Also, I still have nearly all of my brown hair, still mostly brown. Paul's darker hair shows some streaks of silver.

Anyhow, Lauren's dad Paul always seemed like such a normal, straight-arrow good guy, and nowhere near being a psycho-pervert rapist. So, how to explain their sexual relationship which, if not illegal, is certainly 'taboo'? Well, when in doubt, punt. So I decided to put the ball back in Janey's court.

"I'm not really sure how I feel about it, Honey. It certainly isn't usual, and a lot of people would be angry or disgusted by it. How do you feel about it?" Nice punt.

"I guess at first I felt kinda the way you do. I was just so totally unprepared for something that wild and off-the-wall. But when I saw them together -- their obvious love for each other, and Lauren talked with me about it, and how she answered all of my questions about it -- them -- and Lauren's -- 'contentment,' is the best way I can put it -- I started to feel okay with it, and even kind of envied what they have. Does that surprise you, or maybe make you upset?"

Oops -- ball's back in my court. "Guess I'll just have to process it, 'cause for better or worse, it's a real thing and I'll have to get used to it."

"Me, too," Janey said. And then, "There's something else."

What else could there be after this? I mean, that's one tough act to follow.

"Well ... Lauren and I talked a long time ... not about her and her father, but about me. And her point, Daddy, was that I haven't been doing so well this past year. I mean, my grades are still good -- so far -- and I don't go off on crying jags or anything like that, but if I'm gonna be honest, I'm kind of messed-up. You know how depressed I was when Ken and I broke off ... well, broke off whatever it was we were doing. And everyone, every guy I've tried to meet at school has ended up being a disappointment, and in a way that just leaves me feeling even more empty and depressed."

She paused to see how I was handling this information about my daughter, whom I love and whose happiness I want more than anything else in the world. I couldn't think of what to say, but sometimes words don't make it, so I put my arm around her shoulder and pulled her to me so her head rested against my chest, and my chin rested in her hair -- that soft, strawberry-smelling hair. And waited for her to go on.

She got up her nerve and went on. "Lauren said she and her dad had talked about me a lot this year, and they thought that the answer to my situation might be right in front of my nose. What Lauren said was -- don't let this freak you out -- that the answer -- "her voice faltered a little, and she said, hoarsely, "... is you."

At first, I stupidly could not understand what she was saying. Then it began to hit me. But before I could react, she went on:

"She pointed out what she said should be obvious: that there's already a man in my life who is kind and smart and good looking -- maybe even a bit hunky" -- here she gave me a soft jab in the ribs -- "and who loves me and who I respect and admire and love, and who would do anything for me ..."

I was starting to feel dizzy as the realization of where she was going with this dawned on me.

Her voice was barely audible, but she looked at me with those shiny hazel eyes and managed to get out, "That's you, Daddy."

It sounds like a cliché, but my head actually felt like it was spinning. First, the news about Lauren and her father was mind-blowing. But what she was suggesting now ... I literally didn't have words for it.

Once she started, she let her words all come out in a rush, like she was afraid to stop:

"I know this is kind of wild, but if you look at all the facts, it's not that far out. You were miserable for years after Mom left to 'discover herself,' and apparently, discover some other guy. And while you've gotten over the shock, you still haven't really recovered, either. And you're handsome and smart and decent. And I know you think your little girl is attractive, and I hope, even a little bit sexy" -- here a nudge and playful tone of voice -- "but I've never seen you try to sneak a peek at me when I'm in my room or wearing something that might be see-through, or stare at me or my girlfriends when we're in our bikinis or prancing around in our tee-shirts when they're staying overnight, or anything pervy like that."

She rolled over me with her arms extended and looked me directly in the eyes. "You're a good man, Daddy, and I love you.

"Daddy, I'm asking you to consider the obvious. You're a normal, healthy man with normal healthy needs, trapped here in this nice warm room with a beautiful snowstorm outside our window and a warm, pretty woman that you love and who loves and adores you and wants you. And if you think about it, Daddy -- be honest about it -- you'll see that this is something you want, too. Now, why don't you go into the bathroom and get ready for bed?"

Without even thinking of arguing about it, I gathered up my shaving kit and toiletries and 'something to wear,' which in this case turned out to be a New Orleans tee-shirt and a new pair of athletic shorts, and headed for the bathroom, hoping that the time alone would give me a chance to sort things out and get a handle on the matter.

When I came out, Janey got up and walked over to the other bed where our stuff was all spread out, picked up a few things, and went toward the bathroom. But before she got there, she stopped, bent down, and lit the gas fireplace.

Meanwhile, I was left standing there speechless -- "dazed and confused," as the phrase goes. What Janey had said was true. I was alone, and while I'd made it a point not to dwell on it, I've felt lonely all the years since Samantha left us. And I do love Janey and want her happiness more than anything in the world. And, yes, I'd noticed that my wonderful, precious daughter was "not doing too well" for most of the past year, to the point where I was beginning to worry about her. Objectively, it made eminent sense. But, still -- there's that barrier, and it's a big one. Those boundaries that we all believe in, that even if we've never thought about them much, they're still there; and however much what Janey said was true and made sense, I was not certain I could cross those boundaries if -- when -- such a time came.

I started trying to think of ways to de-escalate the situation. Most obvious was the bed arrangement. Our room had two large beds. Then I looked over at the other bed and realized that Janey had systematically spread our possessions across the entire bed in a way that could not be remedied quickly. And then I thought of the fireplace that she had just started.

And then -- then -- I remembered her unexpected remark when we entered the room -- about our "honeymoon suite." Plain and simple, Janey wants this, and she's done everything she can to make sure that it happens.

I slid into bed -- our bed, I guess -- and waited. There was no point in trying to pretend I was asleep -- that would be unconvincing, and cowardly, too. So I lay there and tried to bring my heart rate down to a reasonable level, and maybe, just maybe, think of some way to handle this situation. Then I realized that I was no longer thinking in terms of "de-escalate this" or "put a stop to this." Instead I was entertaining thoughts like "manage" and "handle." Not exactly robust refusals.

Pause. I know what you're thinking right now. "What the hell is wrong with this guy?? Is he that kind of pervert, the kind that wants to have sex with his own daughter -- his own baby girl? He's that kind of sicko? Or is he trying to paint himself as being so weak that he can't say no to his daughter's crazy notions, or at least, fend them off in a way that doesn't hurt her feelings?"

Well, you're too late. In the brief time since Janey had announced her intentions, I already said all of those things to myself -- several times over. And, yes, I guess I could have been "strong" and firmly insisted, "No way!" But I loved my daughter, and I'd been alone for so many years, and Jane was so pretty --alright, sexy -- and she smelled so good, and the snowstorm had marooned us, together, in our own private little world ... . And the fact remained: this was Janey's idea, Janey wanted this, and she had done everything she could to make sure that it happened.

None of these are justifications. But that's the way it was when Janey came out of the bathroom. She was all freshly scrubbed and mouthrinsed and hair-fluffed and -brushed and wearing a satiny garment that was kind of like a man's shirt and might have been part of a lounging pajama set -- I guess that's what she had in that small carry-on suitcase I'd noticed. The points of her erect nipples made it obvious that she was not wearing any 'upper' garment beneath the shirt -- I would have to guess whether she was wearing anything below.

And then I realized: this was the very first time the words 'my daughter' and 'erect nipples' had ever occurred in the same thought. Maybe Janey was not so far off about how I felt.

She smiled lovingly at me, went around the room turning out the lights, and then slid into bed with her shirt-thing still on. I guess I was about to find out if she was wearing anything 'below.'

And with a certainty I would never have expected, my daughter led me, step by step, through the process of seducing her.

Instead of "playing possum," which would have been dishonest, I turned on my side so I was facing her. She smelled wonderful -- a mild, fresh, soapy smell, the hint of strawberry from her hair, a faint scent of cinnamon from somewhere, and the smell of warm young woman in fresh lingerie. She put a hand behind my head and pulled me toward her 'til we were face to face. Then she said, "Daddy, this is going to happen."

I didn't want to seem like an idiot who didn't know what to do, or even worse, who didn't want her, so I leaned forward the little distance needed to kiss her lips. She held her hand behind my head so I couldn't move away and kissed me back. And then we just did lot of gentle kissing and lip play with each other, then she relaxed and let her lips fall apart, and I took the hint and gently gave her my tongue. She closed her lips around it and met it with her own tongue and then sucked on mine a little more.

This is the time in these sorts of things where the man usually makes his move and puts a hand on the woman's breast. I tried not to think about what I was doing and just reached and cupped. Janey said, "Mmmm, do that," so I guess I hadn't done anything wrong -- yet. But I was still an idiot. It was Janey who unbuttoned the top button of her satin shirt, and she still had to put my hand on the second button. Fingers shaking, heart pounding, I managed to un-do the next four buttons, so there was nothing holding her shirt closed -- except my timidity.

She moved my hand down her tummy, and I learned that she was wearing 'something below,' a tiny pair of silk bikini panties. She guided my hand under the waistband in front, enough for me to know that I had my hand inside my little girl's panties. My head was throbbing with the awareness of what I was doing. And Janey said, "Take them off." I'm surprised that I was able to manage it, but she moved just the right way to help them come off easily. Then she told me, "You know what to do, Daddy."

And, amazingly, I did. I slid my middle finger into the folds of her pussy, which was sufficiently wet from her natural lubrication. And for the first time in many years -- so many, in fact, I'd actually have to calculate -- I was experiencing the thrill of feeling a woman's sex. And, yes, I did know what to do. Muscle memory took over and guided my hand and my fingers through the folds, across her clit, inside her with one, then two, fingers. And I experienced the incredible pleasure of feeling a woman moving under my touch. And, as always, the feel of a woman's sex -- the moisture, the soft, slippery flesh inside -- was the ultimate aphrodisiac for me. Any question I had about "Would I even be able to do this with my own daughter?" was answered by the hard-on now straining against the fabric of my shorts.

Then Jane began making humming, moaning noises that became louder and louder as my curled fingers massaged her cunt and G-spot. She grabbed my wrist and then all of a sudden her hips started bucking and she cried out something like "Unnnhhh -- I'm cumming," and collapsed. I remembered enough to leave my fingers inside her, but to stop moving them.

When she finally caught her breath, she turned and looked at me and then giggled. "Our first orgasm!" She was obviously very pleased with us.