Weird and Wonderful Ava

Ava, My Daughter's Weird and Wonderful Friend

[All characters and situations depicted in this story exclusively involve people who are over 18 years of age.]

This world can be a confusing place. People often get lost trying to figure out how to make their way. I like to think I helped Ava. I know she certainly helped me.

Ava was an unusual girl. She was the type that doesn't typically get a second glance, and that was the way she wanted it. She hated drawing attention to herself. Ava and my youngest daughter, Anya, had been friends since nursery school. They bonded on their first day as 3-year-olds with a shared position at the front of the alphabet, and were nearly inseparable all through school. Although they turned out to be very different when it came to personality, interests, and experiences, through it all they remained improbable best friends.

Anya was popular and outgoing. Ava was shy and withdrawn, with almost no friends other than Anya. Although the girls had remained close, I hadn't seen Ava in 8 years. That's how long it had been since Anya's mother and I divorced and I moved out. But both girls were now 20 and fresh out of community college, ready to transfer to the university to complete their degrees. That was the reason for my reacquaintance with Ava. I live in a university town, the same one where the girls planned to finish school. Anya wanted to save money by living with Dad. Despite the fact that my small, older house has only two bedrooms, and it meant they would have to share, she wanted Ava to move in too as her roomate.

This plan meant a big change for me, but I was happy to go along. Things would definitely be more lively with two college girls under my roof! At 60, my life had settled into a bit of a dull routine that could frankly use some livening up. I had dated a little in the years after my divorce but never really developed a spark with anyone. More recently it hadn't really seemed worth the effort. So I wasn't worried about the girls throwing any kind of a wrench into my love life. Honestly, I was a lot more worried about my presence having a dampening effect on theirs.

Yes, I had some of those old school feelings of protectiveness, but above all I wanted my daughter to have fun, to be young, to experiment and have the real college experience. I knew sex was a big part of that. If my memory was any guide, maybe the best part. I had no illusions of her "saving it for marriage" or anything like that.

When the girls moved in, my first reaction to Ava was that she dressed like a Lesbian. Was she? I didn't know. I was reasonably sure Anya was not. Her mother had told me news of boyfriends and parties and the like. But of course that wasn't any reason why her friend might not be. Or they might even be bisexual. I'd heard that was an increasingly popular "thing" among today's college girls.

No, despite first impressions, Ava was not gay. She was not bisexual. As it turned out, in fact, that girl loved my cock more than any other woman I have ever known. But more about that later.

When I was young and inexperienced I dreamed of finding a girl like Ava, a girl who was truly beautiful, but somehow nobody had seen it until I came along. In those days, I never found that girl. Truth is, back then I was probably too shallow to notice any hidden gems around me. But experience has given me a little bit of wisdom and insight. It didn't take me long to notice a few of Ava's better qualities, and the more I learned, the more I was impressed.

Ava was quiet and shy, guarded around others, but when you got to know her she was also very warm, down-to-earth, and perceptive. She could be funny too, with a dry sense of humor unusual in a girl. She seemed insecure on the surface, but beneath it she had a strong underlying confidence and sense of herself. The insecurity and shyness was more a result of her feelings about other people, and uncertainty about how to navigate a world full of them and all the shit they are capable of.

Growing up, a lot of the people in her life weren't very nice to Ava. A lot of that was because of her parents. More about them later, too.

When it came to looks (once I got past the clothes), well I can't speak for anyone else, but to me her eyes were her most extraordinary feature. They were brown, and deep, so deep that it took no effort at all for me to get lost in them. I first noticed on the day the two girls moved in. We had just finished carrying in boxes and stopped for a lemonade. When Anya left for the bathroom, Ava leveled those eyes right at me.

"Dan, I just want to say thank you, sincerely, thank you for letting me move in here with you and Anya. It really means a lot to me. I'll be a good housemate. I promise. I know Anya said no rent, but I'll do chores, whatever you need. If you need me to do more, you just let me know. OK?"

"OK. I sure will." I gave the automatic reply because I could barely think. I was still feeling those eyes. There was real warmth in there, and more!. That soulful pair of deep brown eyes reached right into the middle of my chest and just grabbed me. I can't even specifically remember my ex-wife's eyes. I know they were hazel and I once thought they were very pretty, but I can't conjure up a picture of them in my mind. I can never forget Ava's. No matter where or when I can close my eyes and call up that picture of her very beautiful deep brown eyes.

Aside from her eyes, over those first few days I noticed she was much better looking than she seemed at first glance. Her lips were perfect, soft, full, and sensuous. She had a strong nose, not too big, but not the tiny button nose that girls so often think they want. She didn't like her nose, of course, but I thought it was very attractive. Her hair was wrong, not the 2-inch wide pink streak in the middle of all the dark brown. I didn't mind that, really. It was the cut and the way she wore it. That, along with her nose and the reading glasses she sometimes used probably went a long way toward explaining how and why some clueless teenage boy hadn't already snagged her, in spite of her otherwise hiding herself away.

Yes, you could say I thought she was beautiful. And as time went on I don't mean just the kind of beauty that gets my dick hard—although she definitely had that too—I mean something deeper. She had a shell she put up. It was like her shyness and awkwardness and lack of style were just a front, an excuse so she didn't have to deal with people when she didn't want to. Underneath that shell there was a beautiful person.

Ava didn't know how to flirt, either, how to "play the game." Socially, she just tunneled in on herself, while saving a little space for Anya. Maybe that was part of her subconscious defense, because the closer she let you get, the more beautiful she seemed. She was the type of girl that, if she had a brother, would probably have ended up with one of his friends, and the guy would forever count himself lucky for locking her down before all the other guys caught on. But lucky for me she did not have a brother. In fact, she was an only child.

I remember Ava's mother from when the girls were little. She'd struck me as an old-fashioned southern girl, and more than just a bit of a flirt, in that old-school southern charm style. She knew how to turn it on and always seemed to be the center of attention, especially male attention. I admit I was a little bit charmed too, back in the day. She was pretty. But I could always see it for what it was, just an act she put on to make herself feel better. We never really socialized with them, just the occasional interaction through our girls. If we'd had more money or status I'm sure she would have put on the full court press to get in good with us, but we never had that kind of money.

Ava brought up her mother one day after we watched a movie together. The girls were remarking on how pretty they thought the lead actress was.

"You know, you may not think so, but you're prettier than she is," I interjected.

"Well thanks!, But I don't think your opinion really counts since you are my father," Anya replied.

"Who said I was talking about you?"

Both girls laughed. But I think it scored me a couple of points with Ava. Then Anya picked it up. Clearly this was a topic they had discussed before. "Yeah. Ava's gorgeous. She does a pretty good job of hiding it with hair and clothes so people don't notice, but underneath all that she's stunning." Anya said. "She doesn't believe me, but it's true! And that body! Holy shit if I had her body I'd be wearing shorts and crop tops every day and laughing at the boys as they followed me around!"

Ava was embarrassed and turned a little bit red. "That's not true," she said. "I'm short and clumsy and my nose is too big. My mother...my mother had the looks in the family. She never passed them down to me."

"I remember your mother," I said. "No offense, but I didn't think she was all that. She acted pretty so people treated her pretty, that's what it was." That stopped her. I could see Ava had never thought of it that way before. Then I added, "But your father was a pretty good-looking guy, I thought."

I regretted that last comment about her father as soon as I'd said it, because I then remembered that Ava's father had committed suicide. He was a very successful attorney, made partner at a big law firm, workaholic, let his much younger wife spend the money on whatever she wanted, and then one day he found out she was cheating on him and he shot himself. Everybody in the girls' school knew their story.

But maybe I needn't have worried so much. It had been almost 10 years, and Ava had certainly had time to adjust. "Yeah, my daddy was pretty handsome." was all she said.

I hadn't really given it much thought before, but right then I could see it. Of course she blamed and resented her mother and idolized her dead father. And what seemed like complete disregard for clothing and appearance were probably a reaction, the complete opposite of everything her mother had been. I shifted the conversation back to her other self-deprecating comment. "And you're not so clumsy, either," I said. "I've seen you two dancing around the kitchen when you're listening to your music. Girl, you got moves!"

"If only..." she laughed, with that slight blush of embarrassment returning.

"Now you've done it," said Anya. "You've gone and killed it. That's only because she didn't know you were watching. Now she'll be too self-conscious. Looks like kitchen-dancing days are over!"

"That would be tragic." I said. "What if I promise to stifle my desire to grab a snack whenever I happen to hear music coming from the kitchen? What do you say, Ava?"

"I don't know..." Ava was now the center of attention, and therefore, uncomfortable. That was my sign to quit.

The truth was, I liked to watch the girls dance, but it was mostly just because I liked to see them having fun. With those clothes Ava favored, in reality I could only get a suggestion of how good her moves really were. The closest thing I got to confirmation of her great body were those rare occasions when I would see her in her pajamas.

When it was warm she'd sleep in shorts and a t-shirt. Everything was loose and baggy, but with the t-shirt she did not wear a bra. Sometimes when the fabric would cling, or while she moved I could see that her breasts were really fairly good-sized, and amazingly perky, even for a 20-year-old. I could make out the hardened points of her nipples a couple times too. Once I bumped into a chair and spilled my coffee when a glimpse had distracted me. I don't think she suspected she was the cause, but she might have caught me when I stole a look down her shirt as she bent over to help me wipe it up. Like a teenage boy I stored that one in my spank bank and enjoyed it for a couple of weeks after that.

Ava's loose pajama shorts got me once too. She'd dressed for bed and planned to read, but then Anya had needed to practice a presentation for class, so Ava came out to the living room and curled up in a chair to read her book. I was in the kitchen cleaning up dishes but there was one spot I could stand where I could see into the room straight toward that chair.

When I looked I saw Ava sitting with her legs folded up in such a way that I could see straight down the legs of her loose, bunched up shorts. The weather had been very hot and sticky. She wasn't wearing underwear! I froze. I think I stopped breathing. My eyes drilled in. With surprise and secret delight I didn't see any dark hair "down there." My God, I thought, she shaves! In the shadows I even thought I could make out what looked like delicate lips, slightly parted. It seemed like my heart must have stopped too. I dropped the glass dish I was drying and it broke loudly as it hit the floor.

"Everything OK in there?" I heard her ask from the other room as I bent over to pick up the pieces.

"Yeah, just broke my heart," I replied.

I heard her laugh. "You're funny," she said. "Just let me know if you need any help."

Little did she know. Or did she?

Yes, I was becoming more and more attracted to Ava. As the weeks passed, she began to relax around me a little more too. I once got caught staring at her forearm for like 10 minutes as we watched TV, marveling at how perfectly it was shaped, at how the light caught the downy hairs, at how delicately she moved her fingers while working the buttons on the remote control.

"Earth to Dad! Earth to Dad!" Anya broke my reverie.

"What? Oh. Sorry! Was I staring off into space? Just thinking about a problem at work"

Anya gave me a slightly quizzical look, and I realized my facial expression probably was a little dreamier than it might have been if I'd really been pondering a work problem. But thankfully, she let it pass without comment.

Other times, especially during meals, I stared at Ava's lips, wondering what it would feel like to kiss her, or imagining what it would look like and feel like to have those lips wrapped around the head of my cock. But at least at those times when my thoughts got explicit I thought I was pretty good at catching myself and covering up before I got noticed. The distraction of food and mealtime conversation helped, no doubt.

The girls did yoga together in the front room, usually just before dinner. Most days, I cooked, since they were busy with classes and studying. My daughter would wear yoga pants and tight tops. Anya was attractive, but she was my daughter and thankfully I didn't have too much trouble avoiding thinking about her in an inappropriate way. It helped that there was no denying she just wasn't put together like Ava. Ava did her exercises in baggy sweats and a hoodie. For my sanity, that was probably a good thing. As it was, I'd sometimes imagine what was going on underneath those layers.

After a couple months, Anya got a boyfriend. This was a big development in the house for my "Ava problem." It meant that there would be more time, especially in the evenings, on weekends, and occasional overnights, when Ava and I would be alone together in the house.

At first, things were pretty normal. But there was a tension growing between us, certainly a sexual tension on my end, and I began to think, maybe even on hers too. Overall, she seemed increasingly open around me, certainly much less guarded than she had been at first. She increasingly ate breakfast in her pajamas, and also sometimes wore them in the living room if we watched a late movie. There were other little things too, like offering to make me tea or if she was having a snack, she would offer to make something for me too. I thought I caught her sneaking glances at me sometimes..

Ava did not have a boyfriend nor did she seem to have anyone pursuing her. Her life was basically school and home. More than anything I noticed that rather than pretty much ignoring me most of the time, except when circumstances forced us together, more and more she seemed to be paying attention to where I was and what I was doing. She was even initiating conversation with me. She talked mostly about school at first, but then also about places she wanted to go or things she wanted to do, "someday" in the future. I sensed that she was feeling somewhat trapped, and even though she knew it was a trap she had made for herself, underneath it all she was getting more and more desperate to break out.

As the weeks and months went on, I was certainly paying attention to her. In fact gradually it got to where she seemed to be on my mind almost constantly, even when I wasn't around her. I had gone way past fantasizing about her mainly when I jacked off at the end of the day or early in the morning alone in my bed.

If I was alone in the house that was a time I could go into their room and sneak a peek at her underwear, or I could go into their bathroom and fantasize about what it would look like when she was taking a shower, daydreaming about stepping into the stall to join her, running my soapy hands up and down her body, about her dropping to her knees and hungrily taking my rock hard cock into her warm, wet, willing mouth.

I had a close call on a day just like that. It was a hot day and I was wearing only board shorts and a t-shirt. I was imagining just such a scene, alone in their bathroom jacking it while I let my imagination run wild. I felt myself getting close when suddenly I heard a noise. Someone was in the bedroom! Fortunately the bathroom door was closed, so I quickly pulled up my shorts and tried to compose myself, hoping I could at least buy enough time for my raging hard-on to subside a little before I was discovered. I turned the faucet on and ran some cold water, rinsing my hands and splashing my face a bit when Ava opened the door, looking surprised.

"What are you doing in here?" she asked, quite naturally.

"Oh nothing. Just checking the faucets to make sure the washers are tight and they aren't dripping." I lied. I thought it sounded plausible enough.

"Nope. I haven't noticed anything," she said. "I'll let you know if I do, though."

"Good. Please do," I said, turning around to face her as I noticed she was looking down in the direction of my dick. It felt like it had gone down, mostly, although there was a little bit more than the usual bulge. And right there at the tip of my dick was a visible wet spot. I knew instantly that my pre-cum had bled through the thin fabric of the shorts. I also knew that she had clearly seen the spot too. But she didn't say anything. I couldn't think of anything to say either. I just left their room and retreated to mine.

Even though I was fantasizing about her nearly constantly, I still wasn't planning to do anything about it. The age difference between us loomed like the Grand Canyon. I looked at myself naked in the mirror. Although honestly I was in pretty good shape for 60, I had only the hint of a paunch and genetics had blessed me with a full head of hair, even if it was salt and pepper now, I remembered what 60 looked like when I was 20.

The very thought of Ava and I together was ridiculous, absurd. I was (although only barely) old enough to be her grandfather. But having Ava in the house, and just being around her was like a youth pill in itself. Even if I only had her in my dreams, I still had her there, and it made life more exciting and fun. Just having her around to fantasize about was the best thing I'd had in years. If that was all I had, it would still be enough.

But as it turned out that wasn't enough for Ava. Thank God it was not!

The next little incident between us really kicked things up a notch.

A few years before, Anya's older brother, my son Alex, had stayed with me for the summer. I'd bought a gaming system and set it up in a corner of the small, partially finished basement of the house. Amidst all the boxes of crap stored down there we had a couch, a small table for controllers, and a monitor, but it was enough to keep a teenage boy and a friend occupied, and isolated enough so they could feel like they had some privacy. From the basement, the noise for the rest of the house could be somewhat minimized. I had pretty much forgotten about it, but the girls found it one day, cleared a little space, and got it operational. They played for about an hour and then proceeded to leave it alone.