The Sweetest Taste

(This is my effort here on Literotica, though I have been writing for many years. If you find the content offensive, please do not read. I'd really like feed back, good and bad as this will determine, weather or not, I will continue the story)

I was tired. 'Dog-tired', as the saying goes. The warm water coursed down my body soothing away some of the aches and pains of a thirteen hour flight from Sydney. Twenty-six hours of flying for a 3 hour meeting, 3 hours of waiting at the airport for my return flight, and two hours of traffic on the 405 back to my home in Huntington Beach. At the moment, I was feeling every one of my 42 years old.

I finished my shower and toweled off. Looking at my watch I saw that it was just past 9:00 o'clock. Was it a.m. or p.m.? My head was too foggy to know from the time change and travel. Wiping the steam from the mirror I looked at my reflection. Wearily I shaved and brushed my teeth thinking all the time about how good my bed was going to feel when I finally dropped myself into it. For 42 I was still in pretty decent shape. Granted I didn't have the lean toned body I once had but I was in better shape physically than many men my age.

Setting my tooth-brush back on the counter I picked up the silver framed photo sitting nearby. My wife of 17 years, Amanda, looked back at me smiling, her arms wrapped around our daughter, Mandy on her 13th birthday. Both were giggling. I had taken the photo that day years ago and had never been happier. I thought it would last forever. Forever turned out to be just hours. The photo was the last I had of Amanda.

Two days after Mandy's birthday her mother collapsed in our kitchen having suffered a massive stroke. It had happened about 10:00 o'clock in the morning while Mandy was at school and I was at work. When my daughter called me at 3:30 saying that she hadn't been picked-up, and her Mom wasn't answering the phone, I knew there was something wrong. Something was so very wrong. She was only 36 when she had died. I felt guilt when this happened. I still felt it all these years later though the doctors told me had I been there, the moment it happened, and gotten her to the hospital with haste, there still would have been nothing they could have done to save her.

That first year had been hard. I didn't know how to handle or deal with a teenaged girl. I admit freely I wasn't a very good father during that period either. I worked many hours and I was angry. At 36 I was a widower and a single father to a budding teenaged girl. We battled! Oh lord how we battled that first year. It was hard on us both but eventually we had called a quiet truce. And over the last few years we'd become more than just father and daughter. We'd become friends. I taught her to golf, she taught me to be cool, or so she thought. Hell, I'd always been cool. She just didn't know it.

As of late though, she seemed to change. Her demeanor was different on a day to day basis. I assumed it was just the adjustment from high school to college. The stress of growing up.

I wrapped a towel around my waist and walked into my bedroom. I was surprised to find Mandy sitting there looking at me crossed legged on the bed, looking so very much like her Mother. In fact, my wife used to sit the same way waiting for me to finish my shower after a business trip in a faded UCLA Bruins T-shirt.

I felt a yearning deep in my soul and it made my heart ache again like it hadn't ached for some time now.

At 5'2", and roughly 125 lbs, Mandy was an exact replica of her mother at that same age when she and I first met. We were both in our 1st year at UCLA at the time and my mind flashed back to that very first meeting....

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It was a Saturday night in November of 1984. The Bruins had just defeated cross town rival USC. USC had already clinched the PAC-10 title and was going to the Rose Bowl. It made the win that much sweeter for our school. It was the 3rd year in a row we had beaten the mighty Trojans!

I was eighteen and pretty drunk when I bumped into a tiny wisp of girl with blonde curls cascading well past her shoulders. I spilled half of my beer right down the front of her Bruins t-shirt.

"You fucking idiot this is a brand new shirt," she screamed at me over Duran Duran's 'Hungry like the Wolf.'

***************************************

Looking back now I have to laugh. It was a rather inauspicious first meeting with the woman who would become my wife a year later the mother to my only child 5 years later and the only woman I had ever been to bed with.

I was a virgin as was Amanda when we met. In the six years she'd been gone I hadn't wanted or even considered taking another woman to bed.

"Hi Daddy," Mandy said with a sigh. Her breasts heaved slightly and were accentuated by the same faded UCLA Bruins T-shirt that I had spilled beer on when I was a freshman in college. That T-shirt brought back many memories of her mother. She'd worn it on our first date. It was the first shirt I had taken off Amanda to reveal her beautiful breasts. She'd worn that shirt and nothing else the whole next day as we made love again and again in my apartment.

Mandy's tanned legs and smooth round thighs stuck out from under her short skirt. Sitting like she was a substantial amount of her skin was visible to me and I felt a stirring in my groin that I was knew was wrong. Her thick blonde hair fell in curls around her shoulders.

She looked so much like her mother.

In the past couple of months I had been noticing more and more how much like her mother she really was. How she walked... talked... flipped her hair out her eyes... chewed on her bottom lip when she was feeling pensive about something. All reminded me so much of my dear Amanda.

"Hi baby," I said, sitting on the edge of my bed. "Is there something wrong?"

She turned her face away and drew a deep breath. Her breasts were impossible to ignore in the faded paper-thin baby blue t-shirt with the Gold nearly impossible now to see UCLA letters stretched across them. Of late, she'd taken to wearing the shirt on what seemed a daily basis. I never asked her how she got her hands on it or where she had even found.

When she faced me, I could see tears in her eyes.

"What is it honey? Talk to Daddy."

After what seemed an eternity of silence she spoke. Even her voice sounded like her mother and my heartache.

"It's been six years Daddy," she began poignantly her voice soft. "Six years today," she paused, and then continued in a more rushed voice, "I just miss her so much. There are so many things I feel like I have missed out on not having a mother. So many things she hadn't taught me that I need to learn."

"Hey," I said, with a slight laugh trying to bring a smile to my beautiful daughters face, "what? Your old man is chopped liver? Haven't I taught you some good things?"

I knew full well what today's date was and I had tried to put it out of my mind. Losing the love of your life is not something you get over. It is something you learn to live with. After six years I still had a hard time trying to live without my wife.

"Oh daddy, I'm sorry. I didn't mean it to sound like you haven't been there. You have. You are the best Dad ever. But teaching me how to hit out of a sand trap isn't exactly what I meant." She tried not to smile as she said that last bit but did in spite of herself.

Her smile faded as quickly as it had come. She looked at me very intently her eyes boring into mine. Her mother's eyes.

"Daddy?" she began, "Was Mom a good lover?"

I have to admit I was a little surprised by the question but I answered without hesitation.

"Yes, honey she was."

"Why?"

I guess I had never thought about exactly WHY my wife had been such an amazing lover. We had been each others first and only sexual partners (well, sort of, but that is a story for another time). Was it because I didn't know any different? Was it her willingness and openness to experimenting with new things, positions, and sexual games?

"Well....." I hesitated not really sure how to answer. Not really sure why my daughter was asking this question of me."

"Well?" she questioned. Impatiently. "Well, what?"

"It's hard to explain why someone is a good lover honey..."

"I don't care somebody, daddy. I want to know if mom a good lover? What made her good? What did she do that made her good? You guys were eighteen when you two met. Did you teach her how to be a good lover? I mean I'm sure you both had experiences before meeting each other, right?"

Her questions came at me in a rush and I didn't know how to answer her. "Whoa, baby! Hold on, slow down! Where's this coming from Manda." The words came out of my throat harshly. I didn't mean them to be or sound, harsh and she didn't seem to notice I called her Manda (like I use to call her Mom) as opposed to Mandy.

"Please Daddy," My daughter pleaded with me, her eyes smoldered and they pierced my heart. "I need to know."

"Where is this coming from Mandy?" I asked again softer this time though she didn't seem to hear me.

"I'm sorry Daddy. I didn't mean to upset." Tears welled in her eyes and she started to rise from her sitting position.

Gently, I reached out to her to keep her seated. "No, I'm sorry honey. I didn't mean to snap at you like that. I'll answer your questions," I shrugged, "you just....I guess.... kind of caught me off guard."

I tried to ignore the fact that I was sitting there with nothing more than a towel wrapped around my waist as I tried to gather my thoughts to answer my baby's questions.

Slowly, the words formed in my brain and made their way to my lips, my mind drifting with memories of the feel and the touch of my wife. Of how her lips tasted against mine. How her body would melt into mine as I would slide into her. How her inner most core tasted on my lips. I will always remember her taste. Sweeter than the sweetest taste I could have ever imagine.

"There are a lot of reasons why your mother was a good lover honey. We were always open and I guess open-minded about sex. It was the 80's and there was a lot of stuff going on. We were both virgins when we met..."

"Wait! WHAT?"

"What?" I asked momentarily coming out of my revere.

"You were BOTH virgins?" Mandy asked, in a shocked voice.

I nodded with a half smile. "Yes," I answered, "we were."

"Oh my god," Mandy said in shocked voice.

"What? We were eighteen. Freshman. We were kids."

"Well yeah Daddy, I know that. But Nana and Papa always talk about when you were in high school and all the girls you dated and...."

"Yes?"

"You never did it with anyone?"

"No. Not one of them. There has only your mother. She's been the only one... ever" I emphasized, the last bit.

Shock, wonder, amazement all played across her face. "The only one, Daddy? Really? You mean..."

"Yes," I said with a nod. "Manda was the only one. Ever." Again, I emphasized the word EVER.

"So you haven't....uh.....ya know..." she stammered, seeming a little embarrassed.

"No honey," I said, looking directly into her eyes. "I have not made love to another woman since your Mother died."

I couldn't tell if I saw respect in her eyes from my statement or sadness. Truth of it was there was no other woman in the world I could ever want but Manda Yes, there had been a few dates here in there in the last five years, or so. There had been a few propositions in hotel bars from women while on business trips out of town. But no woman, no matter how beautiful, intelligent or sexy they might be, could ever match up to my Manda.

"Not even a blow job?"

"Mandy!" I said, in the 'shocked father voice' I am sure every man, with a daughter (who ever heard those words come out of his daughters mouth) gets.

She giggled then held her hands over her mouth as she did so. This too was something her Mother would do when she said something someone would deem, well, naughty. Her laughter though was contagious and I began to chuckle too. To an outsider I am sure it would seem very odd maybe inappropriate for a father sitting in his bedroom in just a towel laughing with is teenage daughter over the fact that he hadn't had a hummer in 6 years.

Little by little our laughter subsided and my beautiful daughter smiled at me. Her mother's smile.

I felt a stirring under the towel and shifted slightly under her gaze.

"I'm surprised Daddy. Honestly I am. I never thought about it really but I just always assumed you were" she hesitated searching for the right words.

"Getting some?" I said with another chuckle.

"Well, yeah. You know all my friends are always telling me how hot they think you are. I mean it shouldn't be hard for you to find someone to have sex with. I'll bet half the women in this neighborhood would line up outside your bedroom door here if you opened yourself up for business," she giggled.

"Maybe sweetie. But I'm not open for business, as you so delicately put it." I responded to her. "There is no one," I began, "who's like your mother." I stated. Though sitting here, looking at my precious daughter, I knew that statement not to be true. "There is no one who could ever replace her."

Mandy's look turned serious then and she asked, "Why Daddy?"

My thoughts turned back again to Manda and I began to speak.

"Your mother was beautiful in everyway. Her looks, her body, everything was perfect. But it was so much more than that. It was the passion in her eyes when we made love the touch of her hands on my body. It was the feel of her skin under my hands against my skin. How she kissed," my eyes closed and I could almost feel her lips against mine again.

*******************************************************

I could see her, standing there in front of me then. I remember the day so clearly it was a Friday and Mandy would be turning 13 the next day. I'd come home from work at my usual time and there she was at the foot of the steps. Like so many other times, she wore her faded Bruins t-shirt. The only other accessory this time though was a sexy pair of 'clear heels' I had bought Amanda for her birthday, and a she was wearing a tiny lace thong that I knew would barely cover her mound. "Mandy is having dinner with my parents tonight and staying the night there since they can't be at her birthday party tomorrow. We have the house to ourselves."

She turned from me then and started up the stairs. My eyes watched her ass shift from side to side as she shimmied her way up the stairs. Half-way to the top she stopped and looked at me her green eyes smoldering with passion. "Are you coming?"

****************************************************************

"She kissed me like...I don't know...like no one else has ever kissed me, before or after. She loved to kiss. She could spend hours just kissing." My voice was husky and I could feel my cock growing hard at the memory. If I could have stood right then and put some jeans on me, I would have. If I had there would have been no hiding my erection from my daughter. Fortunately, my seated position and the towel kept my erect cock from being noticeable to my daughter

"I'll bet you couldn't though could you Daddy?" Mandy said with a slightly wicked laugh.

"Couldn't what?

"Just kiss for hours and hours," she said to me teasingly

I laughed.

"It wasn't always easy, but it sure was worth it once she was ready to move from kissing to, uh..." I paused and chuckled, "uh, other things"

"Other things?"

"Yeah," I nodded smiling. "Other things."

"How did she kiss you Daddy that it made it so amazing?"

I struggled for the right words to explain. How do you tell your daughter that all it took was a tiny kiss from her mother to make me rock hard and ready to take her? How do you explain the soft, yet firmness of perfect lips? Lips that were exactly like the ones I now looked at attached to a young woman who was created from what started as a simple good night kiss.

"It's hard to explain really, Manda." I again slipped, calling my daughter by my wife's name. This time, she did notice.

My eyes met my daughters then. Slowly she lowered her eyes and said quietly, "Show me Daddy."

I sat there dumbfounded. Did my daughter, so much like her mother in everyway I could see, just ask me to show her how her mother used to kiss me? I shook my head, trying to clear my head. The jet lag was getting to me. The hot shower. The beauty of my wife looking at me wide eyed in the form of my daughter. Her green-eyes carried the same sensually smoky look her mother's eyes had so often given me.

"Baby, I Ca..."

She leaned forward and placed her finger against my lips. "Yes, Daddy. You can. I want you to. I want you to kiss me and teach me how to kiss you, like she used to kiss you."

She rose from her seated position and shifted to her knees, kneeling in front of me.

Slowly she leaned in towards me. Time stood still. I was eighteen again and Manda was leaning in to kiss me at the end of our first date. That first kiss, there at the door of her dorm room, had led to us quickly walking practically running back to my car and driving to my apartment. Within minutes of arriving there we tore at each others clothing and would spend the next 48 hours making love in every conceivable position we could think of. I wanted her. I wanted her like I have never wanted anything or anyone. I wanted my... My daughter! I wanted my daughter.

My brain screamed at me how wrong this was my protest however was a feeble one.

"You're my Daughter Mandy," I said weekly.

"Did mommy kiss you like this Daddy?"

She pressed her lips to mine then. They were soft, so very, very soft and so very much like her mother's lips. Pressing her moist slightly parted lips to mine I could feel my partially erect cock spring to its' full length and girth. I groaned with the strain I felt deep inside me.

Her right hand had moved to my cheek and I could feel her soft of palm against the freshly shaved skin and her lips moved against mine.

My heart pounded as if it were going to explode from my chest. I could almost feel the movement of my blood as it entered my cock and made it harder still. It strained against the confining cotton of the towel. The softness tickled the tip and sensitive rim around the engorged head.

As Mandy's tongue slipped into my mouth searching for mine, my head reeled. I was kissing my wife again. I could feel her. I could taste. My heart, my soul, my cock screamed out to me to take her. To make her mine, once again, like I had so many years ago...