The following fictional story is being reposted by Mr Double.  If you are the author of this story and would like to receive proper recognition (an Author's Page at my website at: http://pw1.netcom.com/~mrdouble/main/stories.html), please contact me at mrdouble@ix.netcom.com.








Path: diku!dkuug!sunic!seunet!mcsun!uunet!wang!gozer!stauff!ed
From: ed@stauff.UUCP (Edward L. Stauff)
Newsgroups: alt.sex
Subject: STORY (repost): Always Daddy's Girl
Message-ID: <XBNecB2w164w@stauff.UUCP>
Date: 4 Dec 91 00:31:56 GMT
Organization: Minstrelsy & Lutherie
Lines: 931

Reposted by request.  I did not write this.

-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-cut here-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-
 
I have been interested in the discussion in alt.sex of child-adult 
sexual behavior this story grows out of my musings.  The story is 
a synthesis of events that have happened to several people I know, 
Jonny, Jeannie, and Bess are real people; however the relationship 
between Jonny and Jeannie is, however, purely speculative. 
 
The story is rather long, but, I think, well-written.  In no case 
is a woman described by bra-cup size, nor a man by penis length 
in inches or centimeters. 
                                        --Provo 
-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=- 
This is a work of fiction.   All persons and events are entirely the 
creation of the author.  Any resemblance to actual persons or events 
is inadvertent and coincidental. 
-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=- 
 
                    "Always Daddy's Girl" 
 
                                                                 anonymous 
 
 
"Any man who says, "I love her like a daughter" never had a daughter." 
                                                    -Unknown 
 
                    Chapter 1 -- The Gathering Storm 
 
 
The voice on the other end of the telephone scraped my nerves like 
fingernails on a blackboard. "I don't give a GODDAMN what plans you've 
made!  She's your daughter and you WILL take her!  She's boarding that 
plane in five minutes, so BE THERE when she lands!" 
 
I choked, trying to keep my voice calm, "But, Bess, I've got a very 
important..." My voice trailed off as I realized I was talking to a 
dial tone.  I was past anger, past fury; I wanted to smash my ex-wife's 
head to a bloody pulp not for my own outrage, but for the good of all 
life on the planet.  I forced myself to gently replace the telephone 
handset.  She had screwed me again. How did she manage it?  Why did I 
let her get away with it? God, I got screwed by her more since the 
divorce than during the five years of our marriage. 
 
First, she got custody of Jeannie, our four-year-old daughter, I got one 
day a month visitation; she got the house, I got the mortgage payments; 
she got the bank account so that she could provide for our daughter; I lost 
the technical-writing business I spent six years building. To top it, my 
once-monthly visits were often "postponed" or "forgotten" when my wife felt 
that I hadn't groveled enough.  Finally, two years after the divorce, 
during a particularly ugly confrontation with her current boyfriend on a 
visitation weekend, Bess looked me straight in the eye and told me that if 
I darkened her door again, she would report that I had molested Jenny 
during visitation. 
 
I talked to my lawyer (a nice guy, even when my money ran out) and he said 
there wasn't much I could do without a warchest of cash.  In our state even 
a whisper of child abuse was enough to buy me a trip to the Greybar hotel, 
until I could prove that I was innocent.  I gave up, moved to the west coast 
and started over, writing anything to keep myself alive and make child 
support payments.  Hack SF, true romance, soft porn, lonely-hearts advice 
columns, you name it.  After a couple of years I started free-lancing some 
advertising copy work for a local agency. It was steady money, and I moved 
into an house without cockroach roommates.  My lawyer met my wife's lawyer 
over racketball at the club and I started flying back to visit my daughter on 
her birthdays. Some women came and went in my life, but after Bess I 
couldn't trust any of them. 
 
All this time I wrote my daughter regularly.  When I had enough money that 
so that I didn't have to dodge the landlord, I'd send her small gifts 
every couple of weeks.  There was usually one good reason a month to 
send a card or trinket to my special girl and if there wasn't, I'd 
invent one.  She wrote back. At first her letters were in crayon, with 
kindergarten pictures of stick-people, and thank-you notes for each gift. 
Her artwork covered one wall of the spare bedroom that I used as a home 
office.  As she grew her letters became more literate.  Her favorite gifts 
were books and I sent her the ones I had enjoyed as a child:  "Alice in 
Wonderland", "Jungle Book", "The Hobbit", "Treasure Island".  She rarely 
mentioned her mother in her letters or during our once-yearly meetings; 
I never encouraged resentment towards Bess. But on her tenth birthday, 
Bess and I fought again, Bess barred me from further visits, and Jeannie's 
letters closed, "Please come visit me, daddy, or let me visit you. 
I know you love me, but I get REAL LONELY." 
 
As years went by, my financial situation improved.  I made a couple of 
smart (lucky) investments, and began to do major accounts work for the
ad agency. The agency was contracted to do some mud-slinging ads for the 
1982 governor's race and bitterness seemed easy to write.  The incumbent 
stayed in office, but the state party was impressed by how my ads had 
withered his support among undecided voters.  I was introduced to some 
movers-and-shakers in state politics and asked by the state's party 
secretary to do some speech-writing for some junior members of the state 
house.  The speeches went over well and sound bites wound up on the CBS 
Evening News.  I was caught up in the machinery of state politics. I felt 
ambivalent about my work. It was fun to be an 'insider,' but the more I 
wrote, the weaker became my own political views.  I had become a student 
of Machiavelli.  Politics became an drug that deadened my ethical nerve 
endings. 
 
One day, early in the summer of 1986, I got a call from Washington, D.C., 
from the congresswoman of a nearby district.  "We've heard your work, John, 
and we like it very much." I gave the usual thanks and asked what I could 
do for her.  "The polls are showing that Senator B__ has lost a lot of
public confidence with the news that his company has been dumping toxic 
waste.  The party thinks this may be the time to for an all-out effort 
to unseat him.  I think it's time for me to try it. The national committee 
suggested I talk to you about some speeches.  You know, really slam him 
to the sidewalk and see how high he bounces." 
 
I was flabbergasted. This was a jump from the state to the national scene. 
Senatorial races are very profitable for the right people.  A *major* jump 
in income and prestige. Book and consulting contracts, even an ambassadorship 
cha-chaed in my brain pan. "I am *very* interested in pursuing this," I said 
"When can we meet?"  We set up a get-acquainted dinner with her staff the next 
Wednesday evening.  I gulped when I heard the name of the restaurant, but she 
chuckled and spoke those magic words: "It's paid out of campaign funds." 
It was about to rain soup and all I needed was to bring a bowl.  A big bowl. 
 
It was that Wednesday morning, as I was about to leave to pick up my best 
suit from the cleaners, that I got the call from my ex-wife. 
 
"Jonny, I've got this *wonderful* opportunity to go to Barcelona, so you'll 
have to take Jeannie."  Better and better news, I thought, I hadn't seen my 
daughter in four years. 
 
"Sure. When and for how long?" 
 
"I don't know how long, Carlos didn't say."  Great, I thought, another 
jerk.  God knows how these creeps have affected my daughter.  Well, Bess 
always wanted to visit Europe.  I couldn't have afforded it.  If she 
wanted to travel there on her back, that was none of my business. 
"The summer, surely, a year, maybe.  Jeannie's flight is today at noon." 
 
"A year? That's impossible, I'm afraid.  And today is no go, I have an 
important dinner tonight..." 
 
Her voice picked up a nasty edge. "You can meet your bimbos some other 
time.  Your daughter needs you.  We're at the airport now." 
 
Well, that took a lot of gall, calling me at the last minute.  I kept my 
voice calm and tried to be reasonable.  "Look, Bess, I'll pay the difference
in the ticket costs for the delay. Just put her on tomorrow's flight." 
 
"You don't understand.  We're *all* at the airport.  Carlos's and my plane 
for Barcelona takes off an hour after hers.  You've always whined that you 
wanted more time with her.  She'll land there in three hours.  Be there 
to pick her up." 
 
"But I've made plans!  It's too late to cancel them!"  And that's where the 
conversation went to screams.  Barcelona.  She waited until the very last 
second before telling me anything.  How could she have known I would cave 
in?  She knew.  I knew.  I always caved in.  Shit. 
 
After hanging up I called the congresswoman's Washington office. "I'm 
sorry," the clerk's voice trilled with unfelt sympathy, "She's on a flight 
back to her home district and is unavailable."  Well that killed that. No 
way to cancel or postpone the dinner.  I had better pick up my suit. 
 
I drove to the cleaners, then got on the freeway to the airport, driving 
on autopilot, thinking, planning.  God, I didn't have any clue about how 
to raise a young girl.  She would be approaching womanhood and would have 
all kinds of questions and problems for which I had no answers and no 
relatives to ask advice. What had living with my ex-wife and her endless 
succession of boyfriends done to her psyche?  Where could she stay?  I had 
a small two-bedroom cottage, but one bedroom I had converted into an 
office/library.  I would rough it on the couch that night, I decided, and 
figure out something else tomorrow. 
 
At the airport I parked, ignored the shuttle bus and walked to the terminal. 
Oddly, I felt better and better the closer the time came.  Planning the 
arrangements, I remembered another bedroom for Jeannie.  I remembered how 
much fun I had fixing up the nursery for her when Bess was pregnant. 
The day seemed brighter and my steps lighter.  Things were turning out 
for the best.  Jeannie was no stranger; we had exchanged letters and 
confidences for six years.  In nearly every letter I had promised that 
some day we would spend a lot of time together.  That day had just come 
a little abruptly.  By the time I arrived at the terminal, I was eager 
for her flight to be announced. 
 
So of course the flight was delayed.  As time passed, I realized that I 
had only a vague idea of what Jeannie looked like.  I opened my wallet and 
looked at the picture I carried of her tenth birthday party, the last 
one we spent together.  Green eyes, red mop of hair. She was twelve now 
and kids grow so fast.  She must have changed--but how? 
 
At last the video display showed her flight had landed and a crush of 
people stormed past the security gate.  I didn't recognize any of them. 
Then, trailing uncertainly a little behind, was a young, red-headed, 
stick-figure of a girl in blue jeans and a fisherman's bulky knit sweater. 
"Jeannie! Hey, good-looking!" 
 
"Daddy?"  She started to run, but caught herself and walked with all the 
dignity a 12-year old can muster.  "Daddy!"  We hugged, and if I have any 
concept of heaven, it was there in that hug.  Her eyes shone with relief 
and joy. 

After all the rage, all the anxiety, all that was left was the humble truth. 
"I'm so happy you are here,"  I told her.  She had the greenest eyes with 
impossibly long lashes and dimples when she smiled.  I could get lost in 
those eyes. "C'mon, let's go get your bags." 
 
She bubbled over with stories about the flight, about her mother, and 
Carlos, the latest boyfriend. I listed with only half an ear as I watched 
for her bags, matched the numbers of the tag halves, and loaded them onto 
one of those rental carts.  I didn't seem as though she could have packed 
enough clothes in those bags for more that an overnight stay.  "Jeannie, 
pardon me for interrupting, but do you have a nice dress in your bags?" 
 
"Well, I've got a dress for emergencies," she admitted, "but it's not 
*nice*.  It's last year's and it's a little small." 
 
"Then I guess our first stop is a dress store.  We've got a big dinner 
engagement tonight."  Jeannie was excited both at the prospect of shopping 
for a new dress and at the idea of a grown-up dinner party.  When I told 
her that it was going to be mostly boring business, she became even more 
intrigued.  I think she wanted a glimpse of how adults acted.  Jeannie, like 
all kids that age, was in a big hurry to grow up. 
 
At the store, Jeannie tried on dress after dress.  I waited patiently as 
she paraded out in dresses that were too short, too long, too little- 
girlish, and too mature.  Finally she came out in an off-the-shoulder green 
velvet gown that set off her green eyes.  She was a stunner and not quite 
the stick figure that I had thought at first.  I could see that soon she 
would fighting off the boys with a stick.  "That dress, sweetheart?  That 
dress makes you look 12 going on 29."  She looked down and blushed, the 
color spreading from her shoulders to her neck and face.  She raised 
her face and her eyes met mine, pleading without words.  I felt my heart 
leap and my insides get all twisted up.  "OK, sweetheart, it's yours." 
 
We stopped at the house just long enough to drop her bags and change 
clothes.  We arrived at the restaurant with bare minutes to spare.  As 
we walked up the steps to the restaurant Jeannie seemed a little hesitant. 
I squeezed her arm and said, "Buck up!  Remember, no matter how old and 
rich they may be, you're younger and prettier!"  She rewarded me with 
those dimples, lifted her chin and walked in on my arm like British royalty. 
 
Dinner was a resounding success.  The congresswoman was charmed that I 
had brought my daughter.  Jeannie said little, but her bright eyes tracked 
every move and verbal sally.  When asked questions, she replied with 
a wit and charm that belied her 12 years.  As we stood to leave, the 
congresswoman's chief-of-staff smiled and said that if she was interested, 
he would encourage her to look into the congressional page program.  She 
smiled and thanked him, but said that she had just arrived in town and it 
was a little soon to be thinking of leaving.  He turned to me and said that 
he would be back in town next week to introduce me to the consulting firm 
that was going to handle the campaign. 
 
Jeannie and I swept into the cottage in a euphoric rush.  I was on top 
of the world.  I scooped her up in my arms and impulsively kissed her. 
Her eyes shone.  "We did it," She said, "We showed those Washington 
bigwigs that Lewistons rule!"  She pulled me close and kissed me full
on the lips.  I felt as though my heart would burst with joy. Here was 
one of the greatest nights of my life and instead of coming home alone, 
I could share it with the one person in the whole world who really 
loved me. 
 
As we stood there, in each other's arms I realized that the glowing, 
fluttery sensation in my stomach had moved lower.  I was, in fact, having 
an erection.  God! What was wrong with me?  This was my daughter, my own 
flesh and blood!  I push away from her awkwardly. Turning to hide the 
shameful state of my body. "Uh, I've got to use the bathroom.  I'll be 
back in a minute." 
 
I dodged into the bathroom and locked the door leaving Jeannie standing 
there looking puzzled.  I took a couple of deep breaths and tried to 
calmed down.  I turned on the cold water tap and splashed my face.  Get 
a grip. You're just excited, just getting a little carried away by the 
moment.  Breath in; breath out.  Better.  I flushed the toilet, turned 
off the tap, dried my face and hands and opened the door. 
 
As I re-entered the living room, Jeannie was making the couch into a bed. 
"That's very thoughtful, Sweetheart.  Thank you.  But I need my firm pillow 
or I'll get a crick in my neck." 
 
She came over to me and put her arms around my waist and her head on my 
shoulder.  "I know what you said earlier, Daddy, but I couldn't take away 
your bed. I'll sleep out here.  I really don't mind.  I sleep like a log." 
 
"Well, if you're sure you don't mind?"  She nodded.  "Well, I'm bushed." 
I untangled myself from her arms and stepped back. "I'm going to turn in." 
She looked a little crestfallen, as though she wanted to celebrate all night 
long. "Hey, Sweetheart, you probably have jet-lag and we've got the all the 
time in the world.  I'm looking forward to spending a lot of time getting 
to know you."  She rewarded me again with those dimples, nodded and was 
caught unawares by a yawn. 
 
"I guess you're right. Today was busy with the flight and the dinner. 
I'll see you tomorrow.  Good night." 
 
I went to my room, undressed, and fell asleep.  But my sleep was full of 
dreams of Jeannie. 
 
----Jeannie as a naked little girl in the bathtub.  Jeannie in the 
    green dress that matched her eyes and the dress became iridescent 
    green scales and she was a mermaid and her breasts were cold and 
    her eyes sea-green and her hair drifting and coiling around her 
    pale blue face and she was slippery in my arms and her nipples 
    gouged my chest and her mouth was full of sharp little teeth and 
    she bit my shoulders and belly and took my small, flaccid cock 
    into her mouth and laughed.------------------------------------- 
 
 
                Chapter 2 -- Venus Revealed 
 
I woke with a start.  All my dreams came back in a rush and my face grew 
hot. I looked at the clock. 6:03 am.  My cock was as stiff as a rod and
made a tent of my bedclothes.  My testicles felt as if I had been bronco 
busting all night.  I couldn't go out to meet my daughter like this!  I 
decided that if I masturbated, I would better be able to control my body 
the rest of the morning.  I opened my bedroom door a crack to see if Jeannie 
was awake.  There was no sound from the rest of the house. I stepped out 
into the hall--still no sound. 
 
As I rounded the corner into the living room, I saw Jeannie sprawled on 
the couch, stone asleep, finger in her mouth, her blankets all twisted up. 
Poor kid on a hard, lumpy couch in a strange place.  Why had I let her 
talk me into letting her sleep out here?  I tugged on a corner of the 
blanket to straighten it out and it slipped to the floor.  Her nightie 
had twisted up to her waist and one of her knees was raised against the 
couch back, exposing her genitals.  I stood frozen for a moment as my 
flagging erection rehardened.  I was hypnotized by what I saw.  I knelt 
and shook her shoulder gently. "Jeannie, Jeannie, honey.  Are you asleep?" 
her breathing stayed slow and steady.  I could see her pulse in her neck. 
I placed my hand over her heart and felt the steady lub-dub, lub-dub of 
her life.  My hand felt the thinness of the cotton, the smoothness of her 
skin and the point of her nipple. 
 
I felt a terrible sense of wrongness, mixed with a powerful attraction. 
I had never seen a woman so young, so vulnerable.  I would never see 
this again.  Trembling, I leaned forward and brushed her cheek with 
my lips.  Her skin was as soft as an infant's. There was a soft down 
on her neck.  She smelled, salty, slightly spicy, like the breeze 
blown from some exotic oriental bazaar.  I rocked back on my heels 
and looked at the wrinkled inner lips of her genitals.  No pubic hair 
camouflaged their beauty.  I looked up and saw the golden down on the 
swell of her belly.  I looked at my own belly and realized that I had 
better get back to my room and do what I had intended; my pajama bottoms 
were getting soaked by my leaky cock. 
 
I tucked the blankets around her and tiptoed to my room. Dropping my 
pajama bottoms, I picked up a bottle of hand lotion.  I lay back on 
my bed, closed my eyes and let images come unbidden to mind.  Bess... 
Jenney's mother...the best sex in my life was with her...Bess was a 
harpy, but her ass was to die for...Bess's hazel eyes...Jeannie's eyes... 
Jeannie's legs akimbo..Jeannie's little girl cunt, soft and shriveled...my 
hot cock parting the soft lips and burying itself in her flesh...her scream 
of pleasure...my moans... 
 
After five minutes of delicious delay, my heart thudded in my chest, my 
belly and thighs tensed, and I came as I have rarely come, soaking my 
pajama tops to match my bottoms.  As I  spun back down to earth I suddenly 
wondered; had I really moaned or was that just in my imagination?  I held 
my breath, listening.  No sound.  The apartment was a quiet as before. 
I pulled the bedclothes over me and dozed off. 
 
When I woke I heard the shower running.  I looked at the clock.  7:21 am. 
I swung my legs over the side of the bed and feet landed right on my cold, 
damp pajama bottoms.  A shiver ran up my spine and I hurriedly pulled off 
my tops.  I gathered them up and stuffed them under the bed blankets.  Got 
to remember to do the laundry today.  I threw on some sweat pants and a 
shirt and went out to face the day.
 
I made coffee first.  As I turned on the cold water to fill the carafe, 
I heard a screech from the shower.  "Sorry!" I yelled.  I was going to 
have to get used to living with someone again.  While the coffee dripped, 
I sat on the couch (now with its bedclothes put away, returned to its 
daytime function) and watched the morning news shows.  Senator B was 
denying he had any knowledge of what his company was doing, which made him 
look less venial but more stupid.  I made a few mental notes, catching the 
his characteristic phrasing, the better to mock it. 
 
I heard, in the back of my mind, the shower stop and the bathroom door 
open.  "'Morning!" I said as I turned to greet my daughter. I froze. 
Jeannie stood there, drying herself off, naked as the day she was born. 
Her body was only sporadically hidden as she chafed her skin with the 
towel.  The figure that I has guessed at in the green dress was now 
displayed.  Her slim waist swelled just slightly at her hips. Her 
breasts were just a swelling of her nipples, beaded with water, now 
erect from the cool morning air. 
 
"Wow, did that shower feel good!  I could eat a dozen pancakes!  Do 
have any pancake mix?  I could make some from scratch.  What's wrong?" 
 
"N-nothing, sweetheart.  I'm just a little slow before I get my c-coffee." 
 
She rummaged through her bags and pulled on an oversized sweatshirt that 
hung halfway to her knees. "There! Now we match. Let's get breakfast." 
 
 
                Chapter 3 -- Dreams Revealed 
 
The next few days I managed to shove aside my indecent thoughts and 
Jeannie and became like old friends meeting for the first time.  It 
felt like that old legend about ancient souls that meet again and 
again in successive lives. We went to a chinese restaurant for lunch 
and Jeannie ordered for both of us.  "How did you know that I loved 
General Tso's chicken?" I asked.  "You told me in a letter last year." 
We stopped for ice cream cones I ordered her Mighty Mocha "How did 
you know?" she asked.  "You've been a chocoholic since you were a baby." 
And so it went.  I watched Jeannie closely when she talked.  I could see 
Bess in the way she tossed her head, the way she used her hands when she 
spoke.  I could see me in the shape of her brow and the line of her jaw. 
I felt an attraction, like cables wrapped around my heart, squeezing it, 
pulling me towards her.  She had always been in the background of my 
day-to-day life, but now she was the Sun and I had just discovered the 
Copernican system. 
 
One afternoon, a week later, we went to the zoo.  Jeannie had found the 
sexual antics of the lemurs hilarious.  As we ambled down a quiet path, 
I thought it a good time to broach a delicate subject. 
 
"Ah--Jen, what do you know about boys?  I mean, about boys and girls... 
together?"  I felt so awkward! 
 
"You mean like having babies?  They showed us some films in the health 
class at school--stupid stuff, really.  Films that were made 15 years
ago with people wearing the silliest clothes.  Another one on giving 
birth--yech!  And there was a class on girls having monthlies, don't 
worry, Daddy, you won't have to explain *that*." 
 
Whew. One worry down.  12 million to go.  "Well, yes, that.  But what 
about your mom?  Did she ever have a talk with you?" 
 
Jeannie stopped, glanced up and down the path to ensure we were alone, 
then fixed me with her eyes.  "Now Daddy, I'm going to tell you a 
secret. A big secret.  And you have to promise me that you won't get 
upset and make a scene."  I hastily agreed, but she kept those green 
jewels fixed on me until I promised solemnly that I would keep my cool. 
 
"Mom tried several times to talk to me. But I figure that anyone who 
goes through as many men as she does doesn't have much to say to 
*anyone* about how to have a permanent relationship." 
 
That's my girl, I thought.  Why did she think that would upset me? 
 
"Now as far as how people do it (and don't get upset--remember, you 
promised) it was easy to peek and watch her and her boyfriends." 
 
"Jeannie!"  I blurted. In a crisis, my mouth pushes my brain aside and 
takes over. "What kind of thing is that for a ..." 
 
"Daddy!" she cried, "You promised!"  Her eyes were full of hurt. 
 
I stopped, bit back what I was going to say, and mentally kicked 
myself.  The poor kid grows up with a mom that screws like a mink 
and I blame her for being curious.  "You're right, Honey.  I just 
reacted without thinking."  I paused as a group of small kids came 
tearing down the path and disappeared around the bend. "Go ahead. I 
promise I won't make a scene." 
 
But Jeannie would not continue, but started walking and said that she 
would wait "'til later." 
 
That evening, as we drove home, I tried to thaw the chill between us 
and asked Jeannie if she wanted to pick up a videotape. "Daddy, we've 
only spent seven days together and you want to stare at some old 
movie?  Besides, we still have to finish our talk about Mom." 
 
When we got home, neither of us were very hungry, so I suggested cold 
cuts and veggies.  As I chopped some vegetables, Jeannie flipped through 
my tape collection.  I heard her load the deck and then the frosty, 
cerebral sounds of the Modern Jazz Quartet floated into the kitchen. 
I brought the tray into the living room and sat by Jeannie on the couch. 
"I've got all the MJQ albums, so no points for surprise.  But thanks, 
that's just what I wanted to hear right now." She smiled with her 
mouth, but it never reached her eyes.  "Can we finish our talk?" 
 
Jeannie picked up a celery stick, dipped it into the yoghurt and regarded 
it thoughtfully.  "What's to say?  I woke up one night and was scared 
by the noise of people fighting.  I snuck down the hall and peeked in 
her bedroom.  Gunter was her boyfriend then.  Gunter was on top of her.
I thought that he was beating her up, so I hid in my closet 'till I fell 
asleep. 
 
"The next morning Mom found me there and asked me what happened.  I told 
her how I was scared and she laughed.  She told me that what I saw was what 
grown-ups do for fun.  I thought that was the biggest lie I had ever heard. 
So I waited, and the next time I heard the grunting I snuck down the hall 
again and peeked in the door.  This time Mom was on top bouncing up and 
down with a big smile on her face so I could see that she wasn't being 
hurt.  I went back to bed and cried until I went to sleep." 
 
"Why did you cry?" I asked. 
 
"I don't know.  I just did.  I cried six months later when Gunter left 
for good, though I really didn't like him at all.  I just crawled into 
my bed and cried."  My heart ached for that little girl, alone in her bed. 
She dropped the celery into the dip and her voice grew small. "That's when 
I started having the nightmares." 
 
"What nightmares, Honey?" 
 
"They're all different and all the same.  I'm walking down the hall in 
our house, Mom's house, I mean, and I'm trying to find the front door 
because I know that if I find it and open it, you'll be there to take me 
with you and the sun will shine.  But in the house it's night and I can 
hear Mom and her boyfriend grunting and moaning.  I can't tell which door 
is the front door and I'm afraid to open any of the doors until I'm sure. 
Because if open the wrong one, it might be the door Mom is behind." 
 
"But what's so scary about Mom?" I mentally gritted my teeth. "She loves 
you, you know." 
 
"Oh, I know she does.  As much as she can."  Her voice got even smaller 
and she watched her hands twisting like wounded animals in her lap. "What 
scares me is that I know that I liked to watch them.  I got excited. I 
would pull down my panties and touch myself, you know, down there." 
 
"Baby! Don't let that plague you.  *Everybody* 'touches themselves'." 
 
She spoke to me as if I were a slow child. "If I said, 'It's OK for me to 
smoke, everybody does it.'" Would that make it OK?" 
 
I sighed, "You're right, but it's not just that, Sweet. Touching yourself 
is just a part of finding out about yourself.  I doesn't hurt you, it 
doesn't hurt *anyone*, and it's nobody's damn business but your own." 
 
She looked up at me and her emerald eyes brimmed with tears.  "Daddy, the 
reason that I don't like it, is that I *hate* Gunter and Rob and Bill 
and Carlos and all of them! I don't want to think about them when I touch 
myself, I want to think of you!  But you were gone so long and I didn't 
know if you really meant what you said in your letters but I kept rereading 
them and hoping and then in the airport Mom was yelling on the phone and I 
thought that you really didn't want me and that maybe I did something awful 
when I was little that I can't remember and if I did I'm SORRY Daddy, I'm 
*sorry* and I promise I'll be good and I'll never do it again if you'll
just tell me what it was..." 
 
She broke down in big wracking sobs.  I slid next to her on the couch 
and took her in my arms.  She put her head against my chest and let 
the tears pour. I rocked back and forth crooning, "You didn't do anything, 
wrong baby, you're just perfect. I love you, Jeannie. Daddy loves you. 
It's OK to cry, baby, Daddy's here."  For five or six minutes I rocked 
and crooned while her sobs turned into gulping gasps for air and finally 
into quiet, regular breathing.  She looked up at me again and both our 
eyes were swimming in tears. 
 
"Do you think I'm awful and hate me now, Daddy?" 
 
"I think that you are the most wonderful person in the world, Jeannie. 
You have completely stolen my heart." 
 
"Do you really, *really*, love me Daddy?" 
 
"Really-o, truely-o Jeannie.  More than I know how to tell you." 
 
She reached up and grabbed my head, pulling my face down to hers. Her 
lips met mine and every scrap of good sense I owned went on vacation 
to Bermuda.  Her lips were so soft, so sweet!  My ears roared. I 
pressed my tongue gently against those lips.  She parted them and I 
tasted her mouth.  Choirs sang, angels wept. 
 
We kissed for several minutes, my arms around her, my hand stroking her 
thigh, slipping up under her blouse.  We broke for air and a much 
belated warning bell began clanging in my head.  I looked down in 
confusion, took her hands from around my neck and moved away from her 
on the couch.  She grabbed my chin looked me in the eye.  "Daddy, I 
don't want this to stop." 
 
I gulped.  I tried to think.  Her face seemed surrounded by a golden 
nimbus.  "But Baby, this isn't *right*!" 
 
"I doesn't hurt me, it doesn't hurt you, it doesn't hurt *anyone*, and 
it's nobody's damn business but our own.  If you don't really love me 
Daddy, then say so now, and I'll leave right now and you'll never have 
to think about me again." 
 
"Baby, of course I love you!" 
 
Jeannie stood up and pulled her top off.  Her arms were covered with 
gooseflesh and her nipples were starting to harden.  She pushed off the 
jeans she was wearing, followed by her panties. "Am I ugly?" she asked. 
 
Her slim body stood before me.  She was a bud, just on the verge of bloom. 
Her thighs, right before my eyes, curved in to the small mound of her sex, 
the lips of her young cunny exposed in a way that seemed more that mere 
nudity.  My hands cupped her ass ad I buried my face in her belly. 
"Jeannie, you are the prettiest girl I've ever known.  Honest." 
 
She shivered.  "Could we go into your bedroom?  I'm cold out here." 

We left the vegetables and dip to spoil and went to my room. Jeannie 
climbed right into the sheets.  I started to undress, then stopped to 
turn out the lights. 
 
"Don't, please." She said. 
 
"Honey, I'm not a young hunk.  I've got quite a few more miles on my 
chassis that Carlos."  I pulled off my shoes and shirt. 
 
"But it's *you* that I love, Daddy.  I want to see what I saw the first 
morning." 
 
"Wh-what do you m-mean, the first morning?" I stuttered, my pants and cock 
both at half-mast. 
 
"I woke up and heard moaning.  I got up and crept down the hall and 
peeked in your door.  I saw you touching yourself.  All alone.  I so much 
wanted to come to you then, but I knew I had to ask you first.  I had to 
know that you really, truly loved me." 
 
I dropped my shorts and let her look at me, the body that seemed to 
resist workouts at the gym: my hairy legs, my slight pot gut, my cock, 
then I slid between the sheets myself. 
 
 
                    Chapter 4 -- The Storm Breaks 
 
I lay on my back and pulled my little sweetheart to me.  She sighed 
and lay her head upon my chest.  "This is what was waiting for me 
outside the front door in my dreams." She said, "Promise me that you 
will always love me and never send me away from you." 
 
"I promise Sweet, I promise.  You have to promise that you will never 
tell anyone of what we're doing.  Your mom would send me to jail." 
How ironic! After all those accusations Bess made! 
 
"Daddy, I could never turn on you!  I'm not going to be like Mom when 
I grow up.  I'm not like her now!" 
 
"No, you're not.  Come give me a kiss." 
 
Jeannie raised herself on her arms and hung her head over me.  Her skin 
was flawless; her hair made a private chamber that held only our faces. 
Her eyes...I lost myself in her eyes as they grew bigger and bigger and 
we were kissing, deeply and slowly.  I put one hand lightly on the back of 
her neck and the other on the cheek of her ass.  She squirmed slowly 
against me as we kissed.  After what seemed like hours she lifted her 
head. 
 
"Wow." She gasped, "That's like all the dreams in the world coming true." 
 
"That's just the start, little girl." 
 
I lay her on her back and moved so that I lay beside her.  I bent my 
 
head down and kissed her neck and shoulders, nipping every so often. 
She would jump at every nip, and then shiver and relax.  I stroked her 
belly with my hand while my mouth moved from her shoulders to the hollow 
of her neck.  My mouth moved up and down her neck from the hollow, to her 
chin, up her jaw to her ear, down her neck to her shoulder, never rushing. 
She ran her fingers through the short hair on the back of my head. 
 
Her skin now had the salt taste of sweat and she smelled of that exotic 
bazaar.  Her belly shifted to push against my hand; I moved my hand down 
between her legs, feeling her bare little cunny.  She gasped, then said, 
"Do it Daddy, don't stop." 
 
I kissed slowly down to her left breast. She arched her back crushing her 
swollen nipple into my mouth.  I ran my tongue around it, sucking and 
pulling back until it popped free from my mouth.  I continued kissing down 
the length of her belly, feeling with my lips the downy soft hair that 
I had seen that first morning. 
 
I moved my head between her legs. I was surprised, for she had three pubic 
hairs at the bottom of her cunny.  The lips were wet and hung loose.  I 
bent down and began to run my tongue lightly up and down those sweet lips. 
I had a bigger surprise; Jeannie's clitoris was at least a half-inch 
long.  It looked like a little penis.  I took the clit between my lips 
and gently flicked it with my tongue. Jeannie groaned and grabbed my head, 
pulling it down to her sex while thrusting up with her hips.  I sucked 
both lips into my mouth along with her clit and plunged my tongue into her. 
 
Jeannie grabbed a pillow and hugged it to her breasts. Her moans became a 
chant, "Yes Daddy, you *do* love me, I'm the very best girl and I'll be 
everything you want because I love you and you wanted me and waited for 
me and I came to you and you were there and now you're here and it's 
*so good* and I...I...I..." 
 
Her hips bucked and her little cunny spasmed and pulsed.  She rocked back 
and forth moaning "Daddy, Daddy, Daddy..."  Slowly, she went limp. 
 
As I climbed up next to her, she grabbed me and started weeping softly. 
"Oh Daddy hold me, hold me, hold me."  I held her until her tears 
slowed. "Daddy, that was...I don't know! I don't have words!  Is it 
that good for you?" 
 
I pulled back and let her see my cock, now three-quarters erect. "It 
will be when you please *me!*" 
 
"Oh Daddy, show me how!"  She rolled on her back and lifted her legs 
as I supposed she had seen her mother do.  I knelt between her legs 
and placed the head of my hardening cock between her puffy, wet cunny 
lips. Then I moved it slowly up and down the lips, smearing them with 
both our wetness.  She shuddered when the spongy head rubbed against 
her huge clit. After a couple of minute of this, I positioned myself at 
her opening and pushed very slowly. The head sank into her and I felt 
the ring muscles of her cunny grab me as my head ridge slipped past. 
 
"Ah..Ahh, " she moaned in discomfort.  I stopped pushing, placed a 
moistened finger beside her clit and gently flicked back and forth. 
 
The response was dramatic.  Her vagina opened like a mouth and swallowed 
a quarter of my cock. 
 
Jeannie's eyes seemed glazed, unfocused.  Her breath came in gasps. I 
pushed gently until I felt the hard nub of her cervix against the head 
of my cock.  I was only halfway in.  I pulled slowly out; Jeannie's 
mouth made an "o" but no sound came out.  I pushed again and her eyes 
rolled up in her head.  I hoped she was enjoying it, because otherwise 
she was having some kind of fit. 
 
Then I felt her cunny grab my cock in the pulse of orgasm.  I pushed 
gently one last time and felt myself explode in her, splashing her 
hidden places with my come.  Jeannie lay quietly underneath me. I 
slowly pulled myself out of her, lay down next to her, pulled the 
bedclothes over us and turned out the light.  I fell asleep and 
again, I dreamed. 
 
----I was swimming in the sea, the green tropic sea with a breeze 
    carrying the spicy smell of the Indies...Jeannie was a mermaid... 
    I dived down through the green depths of Jeannie's eyes and 
    between her legs and her bare little-girl cunny and the three 
    red hairs were alive like anemones, wrapping around my legs 
    and pulling me into her cunny and her clit was an erect penis 
    and the anemone spread my legs and I took it into me and I 
    was on my back and Bess/Jeannie was above me and was fucking 
    me with her penis/clit and I came and came and came...---------- 
 
 
                    Chapter 5 -- Comes the Dawn 
 
I was muzzy, half-awake, wondering what was tangled in my legs.  My 
foggy brain realized it was a woman's legs and I pulled her to me, 
pressing my growing erection against her slim ass.  The woman pushed 
her ass back and drove my cock into the valley of her ass cheeks.  I 
groaned with pleasure.  The woman's voice murmured, "Daddy," and I came 
bolt awake.  The events of the previous night flooded my brain and my 
heart began to hammer. 
 
Was I nuts?  Was I a pervert?  If the slightest hint of this came out, 
not only would it ruin my chances in politics, but Bess would see me 
thrown into the deepest, darkest prison in the western hemisphere  No, 
somehow she would go on the 'Donahue' show, display my picture, tell 
what I had done and have me thrown into a Turkish prison and ensure 
that I was never released. 
 
It seemed to be my fate, my doom, that I continually be led around 
by my dick.  First Bess and now Jeannie.  Well no more!  I was master 
of my fate and the captain of my penis!  I was getting out of this 
bed, putting my pants on... 
 
"Daddy?" Jeannie stirred in my arms. "Come give me a good-morning kiss." 
 
She turned to face me, her satiny thighs nestled up against mine. 
She peered through her tousled hair and found my lips with hers. 
My cock declared mutiny against its captain and poked her soft 
belly.  She pulled back and smiled a warm, knowing smile.
"Already?  You are so strong!  I'm a little sore this morning." 
 
My heart jumped.  "Oh, Baby!  Did I hurt you?" 
 
She smiled. "No, Daddy, I'm just a little stiff." The smile grew 
mischievous.  "I can tell that you are, too.  But give me a few 
minutes to shower and see how I feel." 
 
With that she slipped out of the bed and across the hall into the 
bathroom.  I heard the sink running, then the toilet flush and the 
shower start.  My mind played with a picture of the soap suds running 
down the crack of her ass and my cock got rather sore.  I looked 
down at my offending member.  "Well, Stanley, this is another fine 
mess you've gotten us into."  My cock remained silent, the jerk. 
 
I climbed out of bed and pulled on my old bathrobe.  I stumped out 
to the kitchen and filled the coffee carafe with cold water.  There 
was a scream from the shower.  It was taking me longer than I thought 
to get used to living with another person.  I started the coffee 
brewing and went out to wait on the living room couch.  I started 
watching the morning news.  A sound bite from C-SPAN showed the 
congresswoman was giving Senator B--- pure hell from the House floor. 
It was a kick to hear my speech delivered by a firey orator.  She 
really made those words hers.  It sounded as if she believed them. 
 
Hands covered my eyes.  "Guess who?" a sweet voice asked. "Three 
guesses." 
 
"Ummmm...Is it Susan from the agency?  No?  How about Karen from 
the health club?  No, I know.  It's that sexy little Jeannie Lewiston 
with the big green eyes."  I grabbed her arms and pulled her onto 
my lap.  She was wrapped in one of my big turkish towels, her hair 
blown dry and floating like a halo around her head.  "How are you 
Sweetheart?" 
 
"I'm fine.  Susan from the agency? Do you think she's pretty?" 
 
"Sure," I said, "But I'm not interested in her and she's not 
interested in me.  We're just colleagues." 
 
"That's what you think." Jeannie said slyly. "Monday when I went 
with you to the office and you had that meeting with Bob, the 
partner?  Susan got me in her office and tried to pump me for 
information about you.  What you liked and didn't like, why 
you didn't seem to chase women.  I think that she thought you 
were a cold fish or maybe gay.  When she saw you had a daughter 
and that you could act human, she wanted to know all about you. 
I think she's been after you for a long time, you just never 
noticed." 
 
I was pleasantly surprised.  Susan was a very attractive woman, 
two years older than me, that I admired for her wit and talent. 
Why is it that I had never thought of her romantically before? 
"Hey!" Jeannie said, "Get that look off your face!  You've got a 
girlfriend!"
 
I jumped back to the present, to this sweet armful of love, and 
a lot of things became clear.  "Jeannie, you know I love you, and 
last night was and will be one of the greatest experiences of my 
life, but Baby, we can't go on." 
 
I could see her settle herself into an entrenched position in 
her mind.  "Why not?" She challenged. 
 
This time my words came easily, clear and certain.  "Because I 
don't want you to having to live a lie about the central 
relationship in your life.  Sweetheart, I love you.  I'll always 
be here for you.  But you are just beginning a part of your life 
that I am halfway through.  You have a lot of growing up to do 
before you decide on that special someone that you want to spend 
your life with.  Dads are for the first part of your life.  You 
have to, you *get to* pick someone else for the rest of it." 
 
Her eyes softened, but did not give up.  "But I don't want to be with 
some pimply teen-ager!" 
 
"Sweetheart, they aren't going to stay teenagers forever. Soon you'll 
turn around and there will be just the kind of guy you are looking 
for.  It doesn't have to be today, or even ten years from now. 
Just keep looking inside your own heart and inside the hearts of 
those around you.  Remember, when Grandma and Grandpa Lewiston met, 
she was 14 and he was 20. They married two years later." 
 
Her eyes glistened with unshed tears. "Does this mean you want to 
get rid of me for Susan?" 
 
"Baby!  No!" I hugged her close to me.  "You and me are very special. 
We have something that most people can't understand.  I'll always be 
here for you; I'll always be in love with you.  We just can't live in 
a make-believe world."  I pulled back and looked into those bewitching 
green eyes. "Some things last all our lives, like my being your father; 
some things last only for a while and we have to make the most of 
them."  I pulled open her towel and gazed hungrily at her slim 
body.  "And while we have this time together, there are a LOT of things 
I want to teach you, if you want to learn from me." 
 
I pulled the towel, bringing her belly to my lips and tickling her 
with my tongue. She giggled and screamed and pushed away.  Her eyes 
danced.  "OK, Daddy.  For as long as it lasts, I want to learn 
everything about men that you'll teach me. 
 
"And I'll always be Daddy's girl." 
 
 
                    Epilogue -- All Things Must Pass 
 
 
Five years have passed since Jeannie came to live with me.  She's now 
a beautiful young woman of 17, and leaves for college next fall.  I've 
put all my writing projects on hold and we are spending one last golden
summer together.  Time races by for fathers and daughters and for two 
people in love.  It's going to be very hard to say goodbye.  Because 
it must be goodbye.  Jeannie is leaving home and however often she 
returns and however long she stays, everything will be changed.  And 
that's the hardest lesson of all. 
 
Jeannie did want to learn from me, but most of what we learned from 
each other was simple trust.  She had grown up with a manipulative 
mother, her mothers stream of boyfriends and a father who wasn't 
there.  I had been an only child, and inconsiderate husband and an 
embittered, absentee father. 
 
Jeannie was not completely honest with me at first, though knowing 
how she had been raised I cannot blame her.  She told me the truth 
a year later.  I wondered about her easy introduction to sex.  I 
mean, I think I am great (don't we all?) but it all happened just 
a little too easily. 
 
It turned out that I was not the first.  One year before she came to 
live with me, my ex-wife's latest boyfriend, Carlos, had caught Jeannie 
peeking in the bedroom door while he screwed my wife.  Later he bullied 
her into "playing some games."  Poor Jeannie didn't know what to do, so 
she went along with him.  She tried to tell her mom, but Bess would hear 
no evil of Carlos.  After a few months, Jeannie came across some old 
letters of mine to Bess and discovered that it was the threat of falsely 
accusing me of molesting that had sent me away. 
 
Jeannie knew that Carlos was planning to take them to his family home in 
Spain.  Jeannie waited until she, Bess, and Carlos had packed, then 
announced that she was calling the state's child welfare department and 
reporting that she was being kidnapped by a 'pederast'.  She got the word 
wrong, but she had adults figured out.  Sending Jeannie to me must have 
seemed an ideal solution.  Bess was too frightened to refuse.  She never 
returned home, but married Carlos and lived in Spain.  I wonder if she 
ever had children and if they could ever trust each other. 
 
When Jeannie arrived, she was afraid that I didn't want her and would 
send her away, so, she used what tools she had to snag and keep me. When 
she told me this story we both cried for an hour, thinking of all the 
pain that we risked when we both loved each other so much. 
 
Jeannie says that she had a great time at school.  She got top grades, 
worked on the school newspaper, yearbook, literary magazine, and won 
a journalism scholarship to a prestigious college.  She dated some 
(mostly with college guys) and I never got jealous.  (OK, I did get 
a *little* jealous, but I understand that all dads do; it goes with 
the territory.) She had sex with one of her college guys, and later 
with one of her girlfriends (which is a story in itself) but nothing 
permanent developed. 
 
What did I learn?  I learned from Jeannie that it's OK to love.  It's 
even OK to love someone who doesn't love you back.  I can take a risk 
on people now because I know someone has loved me.  One of the results 
has been that I started dating Susan from the agency.  We had a sweet 
 
time together, but we parted friends after two years.  We had satisfied 
our curiosity about each other and discovered that we were not the ideal 
match.  But the stone wall around my heart had been broken and I could 
dare to love other women. 
 
Jeannie approved all my dates, and when women stayed the night I would 
sometimes see my bedroom door silently open a crack and I'd moan just 
a little louder. 
 
                                    *  *  *
 

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      | Edward L. Stauff              | "Specialization is for insects."  |
      | ed@stauff.UUCP                |         -- Lazarus Long           |
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