The Past in Colorado

For the remainder of the evening, I had bells on my toes. As he helped me wash dishes, we'd playfully bump our hips together, standing side by side at the sink, talking and laughing. Later, as I sat on the couch next to him and leaned against his shoulder, I felt as though I had never been so happy in all my life.

***

For the next few days, we continued along like this. I held his hand whenever I could, taking advantage of every opportunity to make physical contact. Perhaps the happiest moment was when we were walking downtown. His arm was draped over my shoulder while I held mine around his waist, hugging him close. I felt like a couple in love. But two things still nagged at the back of my mind: how he felt about me, and the knowledge that this was my father. Nothing we were doing could be seen as overtly sexual in nature, considering our relationship. There was nothing wrong with holding my dad's hand, hugging him, or even showing him a new bikini. On the other hand, taking into consideration all of these tiny moments, these little acts of playful touching, the frequency at which they occurred, and the motivation behind them, it could only lead a rational person to one conclusion.

I desperately wanted to know how he felt about me, how he felt about what was happening, but I was too scared to ask him. I felt if I did, it might shatter what I had built thus far. So instead, I bided my time, staying on this path to see how far I could take him, before it all became too obvious where it was leading. And I wanted that time to occur during our vacation.

Two days before we were to leave, I came into his bedroom one evening and shut the door. As usual, he was sitting in bed reading. When I walked in he smiled, and then returned to his book. I was wearing my robe, having just come from taking a shower. I stepped to his closet, placing my hands on the belt of my robe, and glanced over at him. His nose was still buried in his book. Then I took a nervous breath and cautiously removed my robe, hanging it in the closet. I was completely naked. I made another glance in his direction, but he wasn't looking. I turned and went to his dresser and opened the top drawer containing my undergarments. Slowly, I opened it and pulled out a bra and panties, setting them atop the dresser, and closed the drawer. With my back to him, I picked up the panties and, using the cover of darkness on my side of the room, very carefully turned my eyes to the mirror. He was watching. My heart pounded and my hands shook, as I leaned over and stepped into them. I glanced in the mirror again and he was still watching me. Then I reached for my bra. As I was putting it on, I inadvertently lifted my face to the mirror. Our eyes met. My lips twitched and teeth chattered, as I tried to return a casual grin. He didn't look away, only giving me an unsettling smile in reply. When my bra was clasped, I turned and walked over to the bed, nearly in a cold sweat. Dad watched the entire time.

When I was under the covers, I reached for my clock to set the alarm.

"Watcha readin'?" I asked, trying to keep things normal.

"Oh, uh..." He held his book up so I could see the cover. I looked over my shoulder and chuckled, as I set the clock on the nightstand next to me.

"Thought you didn't like him?" I said.

Dad shrugged, saying, "Yeah, well... Sometimes it doesn't hurt to give it a try. I'd only read one of his books. Figured I didn't give him a, uh... fair shake."

He was clearly as nervous as myself.

"Like it?" I asked.

Before he could answer, I rolled over so I was facing him. The blankets came up to my waist, and my breasts were clearly visible through the sheer fabric of my bra. Dad's eyes darted down to my chest, then to the book in his hands.

"Yeah, ya know, uh... it's not too bad."

We chatted for a minute or so, and then I let him go back to his book. What I feared throughout all of this was reaching the point of overdose. I wanted that to happen in Colorado, where Dad would either have a talk with me about my behavior or say nothing at all. But so far, so good. He hadn't said anything, and I wondered if he had any idea what I was doing. He had to. He wasn't an idiot by any means. Therein I found a scant amount of comfort, and perhaps some insight into what was going on in his mind. After all, I reasoned, if he's not stupid, then he knows what I'm doing, and if he knows what I'm doing and isn't saying anything about it, then he must not disapprove.

***

The next day he went to campus for the morning to take care of a few things, before we left for Colorado. In the afternoon we did some last minute shopping for a few items, in particular an air mattress for him. I really hadn't thought that an air mattress could play a part in bringing us closer together, but it worked out as such. There are two basic types: single and double. Dad and I stood in the store looking at both kinds on the shelf. He pulled out a box containing a single.

My eyebrows furled and I folded my arms, saying, "And what do ya think I'm gonna sleep on?"

This was no longer about any indecent feelings I had for him. Now it was about physical comfort. If he didn't have to sleep on the hard ground, I didn't see any reason why I should.

He looked at me and shrugged, saying I could get one, as well. I rolled my eyes and pointed to the price tag on the box he held.

"It's cheaper to get a double than two singles," I grunted, which was true enough, even if it did conveniently play into my overlying intentions.

"Ok," he mumbled, replacing the box on the shelf and taking a double.

As we walked off to pay for it, I put my arm around him and, without even thinking, blurted out, "God, you'd think you didn't like sleeping next to me or something." Just as the words left my mouth, I cringed. We continued walking in silence for a few minutes. But my fears of the worst were allayed when, as we walked out to the car, he asked if I wanted to grab some dinner. He was smiling, and a wave of relief swept over me.

***

That evening, we packed our clothes, sleeping bags, tent, and camping gear, cramming it all into the trunk and backseat of the car. It would be a twelve-hour drive from our home to Colorado, so we decided to go to bed early. As with the night before, I took a shower, and then went to his bedroom, shutting the door behind me. Dad was sitting in bed and looked up, as I came in. I asked if he remembered to put the maps in the front seat, remembered this or that, and stepped over to the closet to remove my robe. His eyes remained fixed on me. But when I took off my robe, a towel covered my torso. While we talked, I went over to the dresser and opened the drawer with my stuff in it. I pulled out my panties and bra, and then took my towel off. Standing naked in front of him, though angled away, I kept him talking, as I dropped the towel to the floor and reached for my panties. I glanced at him to make sure he was still watching me, letting him know I was ok with him seeing me in this manner. I'd grin and chuckle, as we chatted, and his eyes never left me, though it was somewhat obvious he was nervous, if not bewildered, by my behavior. When I was dressed, I stepped to the bed and slipped under the covers. I scooted a little closer to him and brought my hand up to his book and pulled it down so I could see it.

"Still workin' on the same book?" I asked.

That's when I noticed the book vibrating slightly. Dad's hands were almost imperceptibly shaking.

"Yep," he said softly. There was just a hint of anxiety in his voice. But it was going to be a long drive the next day, and he really needed to get a good nights' sleep, so I kept our talk short.

Letting him see me fully nude like that was one more conscious step on my part. Although it still nagged at me that he was my father, truth be told, I honestly didn't care any more. In the back of my mind, I found comfort in knowing, at least believing, that if he disapproved of any of these little sexual gestures on my part, he'd stop me. And when he didn't, it only served to reinforce my feelings for him.

***

The next morning, we awoke at 5am. Dad gave me a gentle shake and soon I was sitting up in bed. He took a shower first, and then I quickly jumped in after he finished. When I returned to the bedroom, I figured he would be downstairs making breakfast, but he was in the bedroom standing at his closet. He was wearing jeans, but no shirt, trying to find one in his closet. I stepped up behind him and reached around to hang up my robe, giving him a bit of a start. As from the night before, I was naked and went back to his dresser to get my panties and bra. Then I walked over to my room for shorts and a t-shirt. Whether or not he watched me, I had no idea, but I certainly wasn't opposed to the idea. I had already taken that step and couldn't retract it now.

After a quick breakfast, we were on the road.

***

The drive was pleasant and we listened to a book on tape, helping make the time pass more quickly. We'd talk now and then for long stretches, as well.

When we at last reached Colorado, it was nearly six in the evening. We drove to our first campground and found a spot to set up the tent. When everything seemed to be in order, Dad asked if I wanted to take a walk through the woods. I smiled and nodded and took his hand in mine. And as we walked down the trail, I felt him squeeze my hand and the butterflies in my stomach fluttered.

We walked for about an hour before the mosquitoes became more than we could bear, having left the repellent at the campsite. So we returned to the campsite, made a fire, and roasted a couple of hotdogs.

The campground, though small, was filled to capacity. We sat on the ground next to each other in front of the fire, chatting quietly until about ten. Dad yawned and looked around. We could see other campers, small groups of them doing as we were - some sitting and others standing around campfires, their bodies lit by the soft orange light. I put my arm around him and leaned against his shoulder.

"Tired?" he asked.

I nodded and yawned.

He helped me to my feet and led me to the tent, unzipping the door and letting me step inside. It was a large tent, large enough for a small family, which left plenty of room for the two of us. Dad took his t-shirt off and sat on the mattress, setting the alarm clock. Then he looked up, just in time to see me taking off my bra. He made no attempt to avert his eyes. I hadn't really expected this. I'd been doing it so often lately, that it only seemed natural: when you go to bed, you undress, without a lot of thought behind it.

My heart began racing and my breathing quickened, as I dropped my bra and slowly unzipped my shorts. As I stepped out of them, he asked if I was ready for the light to be off. My knees trembled, and I lowered myself to the mattress and nodded. I was tense, but dog-tired. He clicked off the light and soon we were fast asleep.

***

Sometime during the night I awoke, my bladder screaming for release. I forced myself up and looked over my shoulder to Dad. We had unrolled our sleeping bags on the mattress, but slept atop of them, sharing a light blanket. I slowly rose, reaching for my shorts and shirt. When I was dressed, I carefully unzipped the door of the tent and stepped into the cool night air. All the people that had been standing around their fires were now tucked away in tents and campers. I folded my arms and quietly trudged to the latrine not far off.

When I came back to the tent, I stopped at the door, holding the zipper in my hand. A cold chill shivered my body, and I paused for a moment in thought. My teeth chattered, as I unzipped the door and stepped inside. Dad was still sound asleep. My heart thumped, as I removed my clothes - all of them. Then I kneeled down onto the mattress and gently shook his shoulder.

"Dad?"

He groaned and slowly turned to me, straining his eyes in the dark. I cleared my throat, asking nervously, "You have to go to the bathroom?"

He squinted again, muttering, "Hmm?"

"Do you have to go to the bathroom?" I whispered.

He seemed a bit puzzled at first, but then I think his eyes adjusted to the darkness, and he could see me kneeling naked next to him. He slowly sat up on his elbows, and I sat back smiling nervously. I ran a hand over my sweating forehead, and then returned it to my trembling knees.

Still not quite awake, he wiped a hand over his mouth.

"Uh, yeah," he mumbled. Then he rolled off the mattress, put his shoes on, and walked out of the tent.

I fitfully awaited his return, clenching my fingers and wondering if I was making the right decision.

A few minutes later, he was back inside the tent. He zipped the door and took off his shoes, trying not to look at me. Then he lay down, and when he went to pull the blanket up, I reached out with a trembling hand and stopped him. Without saying a word, I pulled it away and scooted closer. In the dark, I could see him looking up at me, as I kneeled next to his waist. I coughed, a little squeak emanating from the back of my throat, and then reached down and hooked my fingers under the band of his boxers and tried to pull them down. Suddenly, I felt his hand on my wrist. I glanced at him. He wasn't smiling, only staring back. I looked down at my hands and continued pulling them down. This time, he didn't try to stop me. As his penis came into view, it suddenly sprang upwards. I gulped and had to force myself not to stare, as I pushed his shorts down and pulled them off his legs. It was the first time I had ever seen something like that in the flesh, so to speak. Then I sat up, beads of sweat rolling down my face, and reached down into the dark and wrapped my trembling fingers around him.

"Jess," he whispered hoarsely.

With sweaty hands, I slowly stroked up on him. He quickly grabbed my wrist. I stopped stroking him, saying quietly, "Shh... Just don't... say... anything." Then I glanced at him, as he gripped my wrist.

He hissed my name again.

"Shhh," I replied nervously and gently squeezed him. His body tensed under my hand, and with the other, I peeled his fingers from my wrist and resumed stroking him.

Thinking it might make it easier for both of us, I told him to close his eyes. Reluctantly, he complied and I felt him begin to relax. My heart throbbed in my ears, as beads of perspiration rolled down my face. Then I pulled my hair around my neck and cautiously leaned forward, taking him into my mouth. Instantly, Dad's hands were on my head pushing me away. I turned to him and whispered a little louder. "Shhh," I said. "It's... It's ok." Breathing hard, he held his head up and stared at me for a moment, and then slowly dropped to his pillow and gripped the blanket. I took him in my hand once more and lowered my mouth over his penis.

It was the first time I'd ever done something like that and, to be honest, it probably wasn't very good. After a while, my jaw was becoming sore, but Dad's breathing was coming quicker, so I figured I must have been doing something right. I used my hand to gently masturbate him, giving my jaw a rest, and then took him into my mouth once more. After what seemed like an eternity, I felt him suddenly lurch in my mouth. His hands clasped the sides of my head and he softly cried out.

"God... Jessie... stop," he grunted. "You have to... stop..."

But instead, I sucked harder, gripping his penis tightly and bobbing my head along his length. He groaned and thrust his hips upward, driving deeper in my mouth and causing me to gag and pull back. And when just the tip was in my mouth, I felt it pulse against my tongue. He was ejaculating. He gasped and gripped my head, arching his back. The first spurt shot to the back of my throat, but before I could react, another followed, then another and another. My mouth was rapidly filling with semen. Whimpering, I didn't know what to do, having never performed this act before, so I did what I'd heard other girls my age say they did: I swallowed.

As I held his penis, I could feel the jets of warm fluid stream up its length and the heavy musky scent filled my nostrils. I was scared. My eyes were clamped tightly and I swallowed as fast as I could. When it seemed he had stopped, I brushed the hair from my eyes and turned them to him, still holding the tip of his penis in my mouth. His chest was heaving up and down and he was breathing rapidly. I slowly rose and sat up next to him, gently stroking him. I was a nervous wreck. I glanced down at his penis in my hand, still very rigid, and couldn't believe I had actually sucked him off. When I coughed, he opened his eyes and looked up at me with an expression of profound disbelief.

"Jess," he gasped.

My body began to perspire profusely and my teeth chattered. I was really nervous now, terrified at what he would say. In the dark, I turned my eyes to him. He was holding his hands over his face. Then he reached down and carefully pulled my fingers from him.

I didn't know what to do, my nerves becoming heightened with each passing second. I lay down next to him and hesitated before slowly put my arm across his chest. Dad's eyes were closed, and he was shaking his head slowly, softly muttering my name.

"Jess..."

I felt like crying and sniffed, rising up on my elbow.

"I'm not... sorry," I whispered. "I love you so much." Then I hugged him, saying, "I'm in love with you." When I said that, his chest rose and he sighed, holding a hand to his forehead.

Neither of us spoke for a very long time. I finally sat up and looked at the clock on his side of the mattress. It was almost three in the morning. I leaned against my elbow, and he opened his eyes and turned to face me. My fingers picked at the fabric of the mattress and I shrugged.

"I dunno what to say," I whispered. "But I meant what I said. I'm in love with you."

When he didn't respond, a tear fell from my eye and I asked if he was mad. He must have sensed I was crying, and placed his hand on my knee.

"Jess, sweetheart... We can't... we can't do this."

I slowly shook my head. "Don't say that," I replied plaintively. "Don't tell me that."

He squeezed his fingers on my knee. "Jessie... C'mon, please don't cry..."

I sniffed and wiped my nose. "Are you mad?" I asked.

I closed my eyes and waited for the worst.

After what seemed an eternal pause, he whispered no, he wasn't mad.

I took a deep breath, and then asked if he still loved me.

"Yes," he whispered, rubbing my knee. "Very much."

My voice cracked and stuttered, saying, "You d-don't have to answer... b-but I wanna know... I wanna know, if... if you love me... the same... like I love you."

He rose next to me and helped me sit upright in front of him. Then he ran his hand over my face, brushing the hair from my face over my ears, and lifted my chin. In the faint light, I could see he had been crying. He smiled and leaned over to hug me.

"I'll always love you," he whispered.

I put my arms around him, hugging him close and pushing my breasts against his bare chest. I began crying again, and he stroked my hair, saying he loved me.

A few minutes later, he gently laid me back onto the mattress. As he sat next to me, I reached for his hand and brought it to my lips, kissing it softly. He smiled, as I held his hand to my chest, and then I slowly moved it to my breast.

"I'm in love with you," I whispered, still fighting back the tears.

He leaned down and kissed my forehead.

"I know, sweetheart," he said. Then he pulled his hand away, brushing his fingers against my cheek.

"I love you very much," he whispered. "Let's get some sleep."

Then he lay down facing away from me. I turned and looked at him in the dark, suddenly feeling very lonely. I rolled over and scooted up behind him, snuggling him close.