Who's Your Daddy?

"Well? Did you do it to hurt me?" she continued, finally looking up at me, a tear tumbling down her cheek.

I walked over to her and standing behind her laid my hands on her shoulders.

"NO! STOP!" she cried, pushing my hands off her as she stood and faced me, anger etched everywhere on her face.

I pulled her into my arms, holding her as she struggled to escape, pinning her hard against me as she started to sob. "You know I wanted you, that I loved you," she wailed as her tears fell on me. "OK, I know Izzy's prettier, but God professor, why'd you do it in front of me? Why'd you lead me on?" she asked, her eyes pleading, her words tugging at my heart.

I kissed the tears from her cheeks, and then held the struggling teen as my lips brushed hers, teasing, exploring, probing, prying; at last finding her tongue and then slowly awakening it.

"What are you doing?" she demanded when I put my arm behind her knee and lifted her into my arms. "What?" she giggled as I started to move towards the stairs.

"Well Miss Samantha Butler, would you like to make love with me in a large comfortable king size bed?" I asked, and then spinning around said, "Or would you prefer to lose your virginity right here on my desk? It's not very comfortable you know."

"You're crazy! I don't want you," she insisted, but the smile on her lips, the excitement in her eyes betrayed her. "No," she whispered as I turned again towards the stairs..... "Do you really want me?... We shouldn't, you.... Here, right here... I want to do it in the light, on the desk," she finished, her words hardly audible.

"You're so beautiful honey."

"I'm not. I'm Miss second choice," she protested, almost angry again.

"Haven't you heard of saving the best for last?" I asked as I lowered the zipper on her thin, flowered summer dress and slowly slipped the straps over her shoulders. As her wispy red silk bra quickly followed the dress to the floor, her palms rushed to her breasts, cupping each shyly in a hand.

"What?" I asked as I lifted her hands and exposed her heaving chest, her straining, cinnamon colored nipples.

"What about Izzy," she asked as I felt her fingers quickly moving over the buttons on my shirt, ripping one off in her eagerness to undress me. Kneeling in front of me, within seconds she had the button on my shorts undone, the zipper lowered, and my penis sprang proudly free as she shoved my pants, my underwear down.

"Jesus Sam, gentle," I groaned as one hand encircled me while the other stole to the hanging sack below.

"I've wanted you sir, since the first day," she laughed, and then quietly added, "I've dreamt of it in me, filling me..."

I lifted her to her feet, embracing her as I backed her towards the desk, finally lifting her again and set her sitting on the edge of the desk, spreading her knees so that she was open to me.

"You're a hairy little thing, aren't you?" I asked grinning as I knelt between her legs and moved my tongue between her hairy folds.

"Oh God sir," she squealed as my soft lips captured her rigid clit. "Oh shit, I can't keep calling you sir. What should I call you anyway?" she asked as her fingers held my head against her.

Finally I pulled away and stood between her legs, my prick, painfully erect, resting on her mound, and with her pussy juice soaking my mustache, I lowered my lips to hers. "You want to know what to call me at a time like this?" I asked laughing.

"Yes," she giggled back between kisses.

"Mr. Von Scourie?... No?... How about handsome?... No again?... Jimmy?"

"You're too old for Jimmy," she squealed as my hands kneaded, caressed her firm tits.

"Call me.... Call me Daddy," I finally offered.

"What? Why?'

"I'll be you're 'Sugar Daddy' my little darling," I laughed.

For minutes we kissed and caressed until I finally stood up, knowing she would never be readier. She watched as I positioned myself, watched as I moved my bulging cockhead to her pink opening.

"Will it hurt ... Daddy?" she asked timidly, suddenly unsure, wondering how she'd ever have enough room for the long, thick pole waving between her legs.

"I'll be gentle sweetie," I promised as I spread her thighs with my hands and pushed into her, just getting the head lodged an inch in before I felt natures gate blocking me.

"Oh Daddy, it's so wide, I ..."

I could feel the lubrication at the end of my cock, knew her body was trying to prepare her as I thrust my hips forward, and broke the thin membrane as her scream rent the air, a eerie, "Ohhhhhh Daaaaaadddddddddy," that echoed around the room.

"Should I stop honey?" I asked as I forced another two inches in her, slowly widening the moist walls of her clutching cunt.

"No Daddy," she moaned, clearly now enjoying calling me Daddy, "Don't stop, don't stop."

As I pulled back I could feel her warm blood on me and looking down saw the bright red liquid dripping on my daughter's thighs. I thrust again and again until I was finally fully embedded, and then with long, slow, deep strokes I worked to transform her pain to pleasure.

Slowly cries that had been more pain than joy turned to yips of excitement, and ended with her writhing under me, her orgasmic release accompanied by moans of 'Daddddy, daddddy, daddddy' as her juices flowed around my still thrusting prick. It was only as she came a second time that I finally ejactulated deep inside her, filling her with strand after strand of my molten semen.

We only made love once that day, Samantha too sore for an encore. So we just lay in each others arms all afternoon, talking, kissing, hugging, loving.

"I love you Samantha," I told her as we lay in each others arms.

"I love you too Daddy," she promised. "Gosh, I better stop calling you that though. What if somebody heard?" she giggled, and then added, teasing, "But maybe when we're alone."

~~~~~

I hardly slept that night, racked by thoughts of my two daughters, my two loves, worried about the future, knowing I should be ashamed even though I felt exhilarated...

"So," I heard the next afternoon as Sam and I lay naked next to the pool, "So, you seduced and despoiled my poor virgin sister, you vile man."

"Isobel," I stammered as I opened my eyes.

"Yes, you do remember me don't you professor? The innocent teenager you cornered on the beach, the young pure girl forever ruined by your evil body? And now left cruelly abandoned."

"Hi Izzy," Sam laughed.

"How do you feel now Sammy," Isobel asked her sister solicitously after giving her a quick peck on the cheek.

"Better. But I think my older sister is going to have to satisfy my Daddy for the next few days. I'm still sore."

"Have you girls been talking about me by any chance?" I asked.

"Oh yes Daaaaaaddy," Isobel answered, "there are no secrets between the Butler girls."

"It's Mr. Von Scourie my dear Isobel. Respect for your elders, remember?"

But before the sentence was out of my mouth, Isobel had slipped off her bathing suit and sat on me, straddling me, her ass resting on my thighs, her hand grasping my already semi-hard penis. "And are you happy to see me, baby?" she whispered to my now rearing cock. "Yes, I think you are," she laughed as she lowered her mouth onto him.

"ISOBEL! Don't tease Daddy," Samantha ordered as she bent her lips to mine.

~~~~~

I didn't write as much as I'd hoped I would that summer. But of course I didn't care. I was together with the two people I loved most in the world, the two I'd spent close to twenty years watching, always wanting to be involved in their lives while I had to watch another man be their father.

I didn't resolve all the conflicting feelings I had, I couldn't completely shake off the sexual taboos that I was breaking with my two beautiful girls ... but I was incredibly happy.

It was a summer of love, a summer of sexual fulfillment, the likes of which I'd only once experienced before. I was continually tempted to tell them, to let them know who I was.... But I wouldn't, I couldn't... I was afraid my words would do damage, would open a Pandora's Box that would never be closed again.

As the summer slowly came to a close, a sadness grew among us even as we shared our love. We knew we'd all be going our separate ways in September and I think we all understood we'd never be able to recreate these happy, joyous days.

But it came crashing down around me even before the summer ended, in fact just two days before the Butlers were to return to Boston.

~~~~~

She was standing motionless in front of the painting when I entered the den, a room usually kept locked, her face an indecipherable mask. "What are you doing in here," I whispered, knowing it would never be the same between us again, petrified that I'd lost her so soon after finding her.

"Who is she?" Sam demanded in a voice that seemed to stab directly into my heart.

"My grandmother hon," I answered sadly, as I watched her staring at a mirror image of herself.

"So you're really my daddy?" she finally mumbled sorrowfully.

"No, I've never been your father sweetie."

"I KNOW THAT YOU BASTARD!" she screamed. And then after seconds of silence and as a tear slipped down her cheek, asked, "I don't understand why you did it. Did you force Mommy, rape her? God, she was just a young bride," she cried, each of her words lashing me like a whip. "And me, your daughter?"

"It wasn't like that," I started, but she was already rushing from the room, the last sound I heard the slamming shut of the front door as she sped into the night.

~~~~~

"You prick," she hissed at me, spittle flying from her lips as she rushed up the stairs from the beach and onto the deck where I sat eating my breakfast the next morning.

"Izzy," I managed, upending my glass of orange juice as I hastily stood.

"She was a virgin, she loved you," Isobel wailed, her fists drumming on my chest in anger. "I loved you! Couldn't you have kept the fucking picture from her for two more days? We're leaving for Christ's sake!" she yelled as I enfolded her in my arms.

"You screwed mommy and then bingo, nineteen years later you decide to seduce her two daughters, including one who's your child."

As she looked at me, piteously studying me, I could suddenly see the idea slip into her mind, something in my face betrayed me just as the painting the day before had.

"No, it's impossible," she muttered, rejecting the implications, suddenly afraid, "it is impossible isn't it Professor?"

But she knew. But she fought against the thought. "I don't look like you, your goddam grandmother or whoever she was," she moaned. "I was born only ten months after their marriage, it's impossible," she argued, more to herself than to me.

"Don't walk away, tell me," she demanded as I turned away from her.

"I love you honey, both you and Sam... more than anyone else in the world..."

"Screw you!" were the last words I heard as she flew down to the beach.

The Butlers left the next day, without a word from any of them. I'd lost the daughters I'd never had, the lovers who had awakened my heart for the first time in twenty years...

~~~~~

I knew I wouldn't hear from them for a while, that only time could ever bring about a rapprochement, but even so I waited hopelessly all during the fall and winter and spring. I wrote them letters, weekly, long letters, explanations, observations, advice... love letters to my daughters... but I never heard back.

~~~~~

"They're not staying out here this summer professor, only going to be here for the fourth of July," Mrs. Kramer told me as she counted out the change for my groceries on a late June day the next year.

"Who's that Ellen?" I asked, fearing the answer I knew was coming.

"Your neighbors, those nice Butler girls."

"Oh, how come?" I managed to reply.

"Studies or something or other. That's what Old John said to Millie anyway. Apparently the Missus will be here any day though," she finished

~~~~~

She was walking slowly up the beach, and as I watched from the sofa on the balcony, was surprised when she turned in towards the house, something she hadn't done in some seventeen years. She looked up as she crossed the lawn, and with her eyes locked on mime, waved the fingers of her left hand and mouthed, "Hi."

"Hi to you," I called back.

"Can I come up?" Seeing my nod she crossed the patio and disappeared from my view as she entered the house.

"I always liked sitting up here Jimmy," were her first words when she emerged onto the balcony and sat down on the sofa, her long legs tucked under her.

"It's been awhile."

"Well..."

"I missed you," I told her.

"Me too... ," she said with regret.

We sat on the old sofa for hours that evening, talking quietly as the sun went down in a blazing ball of fire in front of us. We just talked of the past, those few summers we'd shared.

"I don't want to talk about the girls tonight," she finally said, at last bringing up the topic that had hung over our whole conversation.

"Okay."

"Can we swim now?" she asked, a sly girlish tone in her voice.

"I don't have my suit on," I laughed.

"Me neither," she grinned.

We swam and laughed and splashed and kissed as we frolicked naked in the surf, and for a few minutes we were transported back twenty years, in love again. We didn't make love that night, but knew we could, knew that the same magic still existed between us.

"I'm going home to Sweden for the summer," she told me as I walked her home, my arm draped around her shoulder.

"What? You and hubby? The girls?"

"No, just me."

"But...,"

"The family, the girls, all the cousins, all the Butler aunts and uncles, they'll all be here for the July 4th weekend. Then I'm gone. On the seventh. Alone!"

It was late in the afternoon on the fifth, the day after the parade and during the annual Butler family party, that I walked up the beach and through the sea grass, refreshed from a swim, that I saw the two of them, sitting quietly on the steps leading up to my yard in their party dresses, watching me somberly as I approached.

"Still swimming naked, eh professor," Isobel muttered grumpily.

I simply sat down between them and put a wet arm around each of them. They both leaned their heads against me, but for ten minutes none of us spoke, until Samantha finally rose and said, "We have to get back Izzy."

"Hey," I called when they were twenty feet away, "will you write me?"

Neither turned but I'm sure I heard a mumbled, "maybe" as they turned onto the beach.

I flew to Stockholm on the seventh; Mrs. Brigitte Butler only laughed when she found me sitting in the next seat to her on the plane...

I foresee a future now, a future that involves my two daughters, a future in which I see the four of us sitting at a dinner table, laughing, talking, sharing like any other family...

But I also see the four of us entwined, sweaty, naked, making love ...

I wonder, can the two dreams coexist?

THE END

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