My Baby Girl and our Big Decision

By WintermuteX
[email protected]
https://www.asstr.org/~Wintermutex/

Tags: Mg, inc, teen, rom, cons, preg

Content: Young Teen, Incest, Romance, Impregnation

"Don't forget your pill sweetie!"

My daughter made a face, but she swallowed the pink tab with her orange juice and pulled on her backpack before hustling down the hallway to the front door.

I stared morosely into my laptop screen. What a mess. Our lawyers had dumped a steaming pile of shit into my inbox overnight, drafting an idiotic revision to the contract we were negotiating for our Japanese clients, and had screwed it up so badly that accusations were already starting to run back and forth in multiple languages. Our management would work it out eventually - far too much money was at stake for anyone to walk away - but in the meantime I had to clean things up and put on a good face for my company. My head was already pounding

"Hey!" I leaned my head way back on the couch so I could see down the hallway to where my 13-year-old daughter was tying her shoes.

"Love you Shae," I said.

She finished her shoes and stood up to smooth out the blouse and pleated skirt of her school uniform.

"Love you too daddy," she said, just slightly too quickly, then darted out the door without giving me a kiss.

And that was the other thing. Shae was mad at me. She hated my new job. The promotion to a new division had come with a massive pay increase, enough to buy this nice new house by the beach, and the property gave us a lot more privacy. I thought she would love it. And she did, at first. The extra space was great. Our bedroom was connected to another one by a shared bathroom. Shae made it clear she had no desire for her own bedroom again, so I converted the connected room to her own studio so she could at least practice her dancing or work on an outfit without me seeing it early. She had been thrilled.

But my work had landed an enormous contract and it had stolen more and more of my time. I rubbed my forehead, trying to focus through the lack of sleep. This deal would be the biggest trans-Pacific shift in a decade, and the global leaders of business and industry were already lining up at the trough. Usually I went into the office in the day, but at this phase most of our meetings were with our clients in Tokyo during their business hours...in the middle of the night for me. I conferenced in and worked throughout the night most of the week. Another thing my daughter wasn't happy about, understandably. We didn't get to go to bed together much anymore. I tried to keep her happy in between, but I knew she resented the loss. She couldn't sleep well if she wasn't able to snuggle up to her Daddy and get her goodnight fuck.

Emails, questions, translations, legal documents to review...I made fitful progress, trying to put things back on track and hopefully soothe some tempers in the process. It was no good. I couldn't concentrate, thinking for the millionth time about Shae, wondering what she was doing right now, worried. Maybe I could ditch work and pick her up from school and take her out. No, that was no good. I had tried that once already, and it stung when I realized she hadn't been happy to see me.

I gave up and slumped back in my chair with a sigh, eyes wandering wearily over the framed photographs that lined the dining room walls. Me and Shae. We had taken one together every year of her life. They told the story of the infant in my arms growing to a toddler and then a happy little girl with a sunny smile. In the tenth one, instead of looking at the camera, she had surprised me by turning to plant a kiss on my cheek at the last second. My startled expression had been so perfect that we kept it. Two other frames capped the end of the line: the picture of her picking flowers in France a year ago, and a smallish photograph of a girl with almond eyes and dark hair pulled into pigtails. Satomi. She had kept in touch with me and Shae through email, but we had never had the chance to visit. Her relationship with her own Dad was still growing. I wished I could say the same about us.

Our first night in the new house had been grand. We had eaten dinner out on the big deck, watching the water and talking as Shae set the table and I barbecued the chicken. Maybe this was it, I had thought: a better place for us, safer, somewhere we wouldn't be bothered while Shae adjusted to a new school and I settled into my new job. Our old neighbors had become suspicious, and I decided I couldn't take any more chances where my daughter was concerned. The high fences and relative isolation of our new home gave us enough privacy to do whatever we wished. After dinner we had soaked in the hot tub and watched the sun go down over the ocean.

The view was beautiful, but nothing could top my baby girl's grin when I lifted her out of the water and laid her down on her back on the thick towels. I wished she would smile like that again, raising her arms above her head to stretch and wiggling slightly as I pulled her swimsuit off, purring like a kitten from her Daddy's attention. We were as alone as we could be, out on the deck with the warm breeze from the ocean drying our skin, but if anyone had watched us, really watched instead of closing their heart and mind, they would have seen the deep passion in our embrace, the love as we kissed and traded each other's taste, a little girl and her Daddy sharing a bond that ran so much deeper and stronger than the pumping connection of our bodies.

Kissing my baby girl was a thrill, touching her body a joy beyond words, yet they still paled next to the ecstatic paradise of being inside her. Her body had flexed and writhed under my hands, the faint mounds of her growing breasts yielding to the hungry squeeze of my grip until she yelped and arched her back, the naked skin of her torso burnished orange in the fading sunlight as pleasure raced up her spine and locked her muscles into the shaking beat of our shared climax. Even after the blinding pulse began to wane, legs trembling and her belly filled with a warm flood of her Daddy's seed, she still wasn't satisfied. She had taken me in her mouth, sucking me back to full strength until I left another helping of white butter melting in her throat, and then climbed on and rode me until my manhood had grown back into a throbbing rod that erupted deep inside her and flooded another helping of semen up into her little 13-year-old pussy.

The sudden plinking sound of my laptop jerked me out of my reverie - a reminder of the work due tonight. I slammed the lid shut in frustration and looked at the clock. Afternoon already. I had dozed for hours, thoughts stewing with desire and worry for my little girl. Groaning, I stood up from the couch, trying to shake out the stiffness from my back and legs. A few hours of sleep: that's all I would be able to get before I had to wake up and shave and get ready for dinner tonight. I was taking Shae out, and I wasn't going to be late this time, I promised myself. Maybe she'd had a good day at school. Maybe some of that cheerful smile would shine through. Maybe she'd even feel talkative enough to open up to me. It was all I could hope for. Shaking my head to try to clear my thoughts, I yawned my way down the hallway to our bedroom and tumbled into bed.

Shae's favorite place wasn't somewhere fancy, wasn't somewhere expensive, wasn't any of the high-priced gourmet restaurants I had treated her to so many times. It was a little hole-in-the-wall pizza kitchen about 3 blocks away, smaller than our living room and with only six tiny tables. She was crazy about their breadsticks. They had olives baked in, so I couldn't stand them. She always got the whole basket to herself. The pizza was fantastic though.

"What do you think?" I asked, peeking at her over the menu. "Should we get Hawaiian? Or do you want half veggie again?"

"Hmmm, not sure," she mumbled indecisively, her head buried behind the black plastic of her own menu.

"Maybe we should try something different then," I teased. "Anchovies."

"Blech." I could feel her tongue sticking out behind the menu.

"Don't like that? We could get half-and-half. Anchovies for my half, squid with extra garlic for your half."

"Oh my god..." she chuckled.

"Delizioso!" I mimed the puckered gesture of an Italian connoisseur.

She dropped her menu onto the table and I finally saw a smile stirring at the corners of her mouth.

"Ok well you can get whatever kind of weird creepyfish you want on your side. I'm getting the Italian pesto on mine."

"Well I'll have to see if they have creepyfish on the menu..." I rubbed my chin as if in deep contemplation of this possibility, "but if not I'm getting the pepperoni and parmesan. It was pretty good last time."

Shae nodded and I gave our order to the surly girl who was the only waitress when she finally came by. It was hard watching that smile I had so carefully coaxed out begin to melt away again as Shae stared down at the table again with a distant expression. I tried again, asking about her day and if she liked her new teachers at school, but it was hard to get her to say more than a few words at a time. She looked down, she looked around, but I just couldn't get her engaged.

I couldn't bear to see my baby girl like this. Anything that ever bothered her bothered me ten times more. I had wondered if it was normal 13-year-old moodiness, but that just didn't seem like her. Her grades had suffered massively in the last few months, but I didn't bring her here to bug her about school. She didn't want to talk about it anyway, so I abandoned the subject. I just wanted her to have a good time.

Our food finally arrived - drinks and salad and a pizza still fresh and steaming, and we dug in. I really had to hand it to this place; they were probably the best pizza joint in town. It's funny how the tiniest and most unknown places sometimes served the best food around. Aside from the perpetually grumpy waitress, everything about it was always top-notch. Shae's mood even seemed to lighten a little bit as she spun the pan on its coaster and picked the first slice that stopped in front of her.

"Hey do you remember that contract I'm working on?" I asked between mouthfuls. "The big one?"

She nodded.

"Well it's a really big one. Billions of dollars. The Japanese want to begin moving another fifty million tons of goods down through the Phillipines every month."

"Oh." She summoned a half-hearted smile. "That's a lot."

Shae didn't really understand my work, but if she wasn't going to talk, I was.

"Mmmhmm. Well I have to meet with their lawyers every night now along with the board members." I stuffed the last of the pizza slice in my mouth, chewing the crust as I reached for another. "There's this one in particular, Mr. Sugiyama. He's a very peculiar man. Incredibly short." I held up a hand to shoulder height. "Extremely polite too, but his accent is really thick. Not typical Japanese. I couldn't quite place it."

She nodded silently.

"I asked him about it once and apparently he grew up moving between India and Japan a lot. That's why his accent is unusual. Well we got to talking about family and I showed him a picture of you. Now he asks about you ALL the time. Every night when we meet. I think he's in love."

She blushed faintly as she finished wolfing down her slice.

"Watts-san, osaki ni shitsurei shimasu," I mimicked, bowing. "'Please send my love to Sheii' - That's how he says it."

This would have earned a giggle at any other time, but Shae just kept pushing a piece of lettuce around with her fork, indifferent.

"Oh. He sounds funny."

She was staring down at her plate, frowning, the characteristic sparkle missing from her eyes. Frustrated, I took another sip of my soda. I wanted to grab her arm, yell at her, make her tell me what was wrong, but that wouldn't help anything.

"Sweetie, please talk to me."

"Oh, sorry Daddy." She gave me a smile, pretty and reassuring, and fake. "It's ok. Guess I'm just not feeling so good tonight."

I stared at her and tried to force down the lump in my throat. Is it work, Shae? If that's what it was, I just wanted her to tell me, to throw me a bone. I wanted to grab her and shout at her that I was sorry. Sorry I was gone a lot, sorry things turned out to be a lot more demanding than I expected. I couldn't stand being shut out by the girl I loved.

We ate the rest of our meal in silence.

No stupid meeting tonight. No lawyers or clients or last-minute requests from the dimwitted imbeciles in management. I watched myself breath a sigh of relief in the mirror as I pulled off my tie and tossed it in the hamper. Were those really dark circles under my eyes? I looked closer, seeing the evidence of my exhaustion plain on my face. Not enough sleep. Half the time I worked through the night and the other half I lay awake worried sick about my daughter. I wouldn't be able to keep this up for much longer, but I wouldn't have to. My role in the contract negotiations was almost over anyway.

Shae came out of the bathroom in her pink nightie, yawning and stretching. At least I could go to bed with her tonight, could wrap my arms around her and doze off against the warm comfort of my baby girl's backside. She seemed ok, as she switched on the TV with the remote and then pulled back the covers of our bed. It had ended awkwardly but dinner had still been better than just working and leaving her alone again.

I watched her from the corner of my eye as I stripped off the rest of my clothes. As beautiful as ever, shapely body shifting under the translucent cloth of the loose-fitting nightie, long hair reflecting a golden luster from the table lamp. The tantalizing silhouette of her 13-year-old body flashed briefly as she eclipsed the light to get into bed, every curving detail of her lovely hips and thighs burning themselves into the hungry chemicals in my brain like a photograph.

My pants and underwear finally came off, the latter fighting against the spring of my mounting erection. I tumbled naked into bed with my daughter, pulling the sheet up and cuddling up behind her so I could drape an arm over her stomach. At least she wasn't so angry at me that I couldn't do that. She stiffened slightly, instead of melting in my arms like she usually did, and we watched the tv in tense silence. An old western had come on, a fusillade of bullets heralding the arrival of mounted banditos, come to sack the peaceful village. Only John Wayne could save them.

My mind paced like a trapped animal, going over the same thoughts again and again. There had to be something I could do, but I kept coming up blank. The slow rhythm of the rising chest pressing on my arm was a steady comfort, and I finally began to relax. Soft skin, strawberry shampoo, the aching feeling of my manhood poking against her slick bottom - all the delicious sensations of my baby girl did their work and I felt the stress draining away.

The bandits had hit the bank and made off with several bulging white sacks painted with dollar signs, and one poor damsel who happened to be in the wrong place at the wrong time. I traced my fingers idly over my little girl's tummy, rubbing the pink fabric up against the soft skin underneath, enjoying the simple warmth, listening to her breathing quicken, feeling the moisture and heat build down below where her Daddy's cock was pressing up against her pussy, waiting patiently.

The movie teetered on a cliffhanger with John Wayne hanging by one arm over a cliff, then broke for commercial: nursery music and toddlers, peddling baby clothes.

Shae suddenly pushed against me and tugged on my arm. "Fuck me Daddy. Come on."

I'd never make my daughter ask me twice. I kissed her on top of her head and let my hands loose, massaging her bare arms and shoulders, squeezing with mounting pressure until the tightness in her muscles began to wane. My lips moved down, brushing her earlobe, spilling hot breath against her skin until I was kissing her neck. The subtle arch and light moan signalled her approval. My daughter finally began to thaw in my hands. I kept it up, tracing down over the silky cloth to her hips, getting a light grip, holding her tighter to me so she could feel the brush of muscles and chest hair pressing against her back, the tip of firm flesh sliding gently along the wet lips of her pussy. She began to squirm slightly, sweaty, against the enveloping, hungry form of her Daddy's presence - my lips pressing from above, thighs bumping together and cock pushing up from below, arms wrapped around her stomach and holding her tight.

The mewling little shudder came right on schedule, bringing with it the mounting flush of heat and pleasure that radiated from my daughter's sex onto the top of my rubbing prick. Shae could never resist, could never really hold back when her body cried out for her Daddy's stiff attention. My fingers ducked and tunneled up under the loose fabric, sliding along the smooth belly until they found her slight breasts and tiny nipples. The little pair of nubs were like magic, buttons that I pressed and twisted and flicked with perfect precision until I felt the burning in Shae's belly blossom into a gasping, hip-jerking shudder that spread through her arms and legs like twitching wildfire. My daughter moaned, squealed, pushed her hips back into me in a demanding rhythm, juices dribbling from her tunnel and coating the length of my manhood. She was ready.

I sat up and yanked off the bedspread, guiding Shae onto her back with a coaxing hand on her hip. Her chest was heaving, pointed nipples tenting the thin fabric. Her legs were open, waiting. Her eyes looked up at me, unafraid, unashamed, holding none of the morose gloom that I had seen living there so recently but just the burning desire and love for me that I knew so well, a trust and welcoming affection that seemed to spring from the deepest foundation of herself.

The pale light of the tv flooded her bare stomach and chest when I pulled the nightie up and over her shoulders. It would be alright, I thought, no matter what happened the world would be alright as long as that shine of love and devotion never faded out in her eyes.

I lined up my cock with my daughter's dripping slit, tapping the swelling lips and enjoying her moans. Intense, sucking heat wrapped around the head of my prick as I slipped it into her pussy. Shae jerked, once, when I entered, throwing her head to the side and curling her fingers into the sheets. Delicious, gripping spasms pulsed around my meat as I pushed further into my baby girl's 13-year-old cunt, feeling her excitement in the spastic flashes of heat and the impatient quivering of her pelvis. Shae bit her lip then immediately jolted into a loud moan when I worked another inch in, then devolved to a light whimpering pant as she tried to relax and adjust to the wide girth of her father's rod stuffing into her pussy.

I gave her a few seconds, rubbing her stomach and chest, until she nodded at me to go farther. The bed began to shake slightly as I established a light thrusting rhythm, gently building on the few inches I had stuffed inside my daughter, watching her face to make sure I wasn't going too fast. A light creaking sound came from the bed as I increased the pace. Moist suction grabbed at my organ when I pushed in, my daughter's pussy walls squeezing me restlessly and letting me go reluctantly as I pulled out to thrust again. Shae's pussy was incredibly tight. It was barely less tight now than when I had first stuffed my cock inside it when she was 7. Maybe she'd always be this small. I didn't mind. My gaze roamed lovingly over the spread legs and smooth stomach beaded with sweat, the adorable navel and the swelling breasts capped by tiny pink bullets, and up to the glazed expression and panting lips pressed into a tight O on her face. There was no part of her that wasn't perfect in my eyes.

The light tempo of our bodies mounted to a beat of urgent thumping, my daughter wiggling her hips and pushing back at me, urging her Daddy's cock deeper. The gripping pussy lips glided higher around my prick with each eager thrust until my balls began to slap against her bottom. Frenzied, I wrapped her thighs in an iron grip and began to slam the full length of my cock into her in long thrusts, pushing her butt along the sheets until her head was up against the headboard. I wanted her, thirsted for every part of her, burned with the fatherly need to keep her safe and warm and happy on the end of my cock. The duty was coded into me at the deepest level, to grant her every need, guide her through every peril, fulfill her every desire, satiate every appetite, to be there behind her and beside her and inside her whenever and wherever she needed me.

Her moans had melted together into one long howl - loud, we could afford to be loud now. My daughter's voice rang out with an unbroken cry of total completion as her toes curled and her thighs seized and a maelstrom of squeezing sparks swirled through the muscles in her pussy and ignited into trembling waves that flooded her body with a storm of jerking muscles, arms and legs spasming and spine arching off the bed and mouth locking tight around the wail coming from her throat.

My daughter shuddered through the last crashes of her orgasm, outcry dwindling slowly to a murmur. She came early, but I was right behind. The swelling feeling of my cock in the lingering storm of her pussy signalled my own imminent climax. I pulled out, keeping a tight grip on her thigh, and ran my stiff cock over the slippery, messy juice on her pussy lips, fisting my shaft frantically until my balls finally seized and a racing pink roar rocketed up to my brain. A hot rush of semen spurted out and lanced across Shae's tummy, and another, making an X, and then I lost control of the pumping firehose in the wash of ecstasy that drowned out everything in the world but the naked, gasping form of my little girl on the bed in front of me.

What a glorious sight, I thought, when the static finally receded. My daughter, lying exhausted on the bed, a white mess of her father's semen on her naked belly, the largest glob sliding slowly down to fill the tiny pool of her bellybutton. Sometimes cuming on Shae was just as good as cuming inside her. I loved to see the white goop on her face or lips, splattered on her stomach or butt, even dripping down her legs, the salty, tangible evidence of our love. Every father should be so lucky.

The bed creaked a final time as I flopped onto the bedding beside her, spent, hazy. The TV was babbling something far off that I couldn't make out. The rest of the world was still a dim shadow, my senses attuned only to the little girl I loved so much, resting on her back beside me. She was looking down at the glistening streaks of fluid on her belly, glowing blue-white from the television's pale light. She rubbed her fingers through a gooey puddle, tracing her Daddy's semen in an idle circle around her navel...

...And burst into tears.

Shock turned my stomach to ice. Shae pulled her legs into a ball and curled up defensively on the bed beside me, bawling with grief. She brought her cum-slick hands up to her face and covered her eyes, howling uncontrollably like she had lost everything she ever cared about. My brain locked up, panicking at the sight. I hadn't seen her cry since she was little. Dull pain began to throb in my chest, that wretched clench in your gut when someone you love is hurting.

I reached out to touch her shoulder, but she pulled away, rolling over to sit with her legs hanging over the edge of the bed, crying inconsolably into her hands with her back to me. The question caught in my throat and came out as a strangled croak. She ignored me. Her naked back hitched with pain, tears bubbling off her palms to run down her bare arms. I touched her shoulder and she flinched away again, hunching down and crying into her knees.

Dread wormed its way through my heart, paralyzing it with slow venom. My 13-year-old daughter was falling apart right after we made love, something that used to make her the happiest girl in the world. A nasty, terrifying whisper breathed in the back of my mind. Protect your daughter, keep her safe, keep her happy. A father's job, and I would have accepted any other pain if I could dispel the slow, creeping doubt that burrowed just under the surface, whispering inaudibly that maybe I had been fooling myself, that I had done this and the result was in front of me, that our incestual relationship had damaged my daughter and the happiest truth of my life was a delusion.

I couldn't face that. It was more than I could bear. I reached out again, stopped, terrified that my daughter would pull away from my touch again. A burning sting spidered out from the hole in my chest where my heart had been, tightening into a noose around my throat at the awful sight of the girl I loved wailing with grief.

I settled for rolling my legs off the bed too and resting my head in my hands, my own tears spilling down my face and filling my palms. Two feet of space separated us on the bed, two feet of an impossible gulf of aching misery in the space between my legs and hers.

The TV babbled on, ignoring our plight, spewing some offensively cheerful jingle for crackers. It was a million miles away. Everything was. I poured my grief into my own hands, thinking that I would vomit, that this was the end, that the only person I had ever turned to for comfort was the one sitting in pain beside me, and if that whispering voice that I was trying to kick back into the shadows was right, that maybe I had hurt her in a way I could never forgive myself for.

Shae was quieting slightly, her tears slowing and her chest settling to ragged breathing. Shoulders and arms slumped, hands and face wet with grief. The most miserable of creatures. I had to know, had to test the doubt I couldn't let myself acknowledge. I reached out, arm shaking, refusing to move until I forced it, and slid my palm over the bedding to cover hers. The brief flinch was another nail in my chest, but she didn't turn away this time, didn't shut me out. Our fingers touched, wet and glistening in the flicker of blue light from the television. Shae was sniffling uncontrollably, snorting to clear the runniness from her nose, rubbing her face with her other hand. I couldn't bear it. I grabbed her shoulder and pulled her to me in a bearhug, wrapping arms around her naked back and squeezing her like I feared a hurricane would rip her out of my arms. She sagged against me, palms on my chest, and let me hold my arms tight around her body as I buried my face in her hair and broke down into racking sobs. I'm sorry Shae, please forgive me. Please stay with me. I'll do anything. I can't live without you. The words were haphazard chaos in my brain, coming out as incoherent mumbles in her hair. I rocked back and forth, sobbing, squeezing my little girl's naked body in my arms as my world fell to pieces around me.

Night passed in fitful patches of uneasy sleep. I kept waking up to brief moments of panic, my head jerking off the pillow and seeing the faint slants of the streetlight on the wall, shining through the tilted blinds, then feeling desperately under the covers until my fingertips brushed up against my daughter's warm back. We had calmed down, eventually, both of us frazzled and emotionally exhausted. Shae had refused to talk and I didn't want to push her, not when we were both so raw. It was enough that she let me hold her for a while, before turning over and going to sleep.

I stared at the ceiling, watching it take shape as the grey pre-light of dawn filtered in from the windows. I was exhausted, numb, but my body wouldn't cooperate. Shadows stretched out from the tiny bumps on the ceiling, inching across the placid surface as the minutes ticked by. Finally I gave up, kissing my sleeping daughter on the shoulder before rolling quietly out of bed and fumbling in the dark until I found my underwear.

It took an hour, but the activity kept my mind occupied. A small gesture, but I wanted to do what I could. Had to. Needed to, because if I stopped moving then that terrible possibility would creep out of the shadows again and whisper in my ear and then I would want to curl up and die. At least I had all the ingredients I needed. I cleaned the table and set it, then got my pans out and got to work.

The aroma of french toast was a palpable presence that filled the kitchen. I scooped the steaming slices from the pan and dropped them onto a pair of plates. Hot french toast with double cinnamon, slathered in strawberry preserves: Shae's favorite. She was probably waking up to the smell right now. I added the ham and eggs and finished her stack with a dollop of whipped cream.

She appeared at the end of the hallway as if summoned by culinary magic, yawning into the sleeve of my thin grey t-shirt that was much too large for her. It billowed around her delicate frame and dangled to her knees, the wide neckline drooping over her bare shoulder.

She didn't say anything, didn't greet her Daddy with a kiss and a squeeze like she usually did. Instead she just flopped into the far chair of our little breakfast table and stared out the back door listlessly. Raw sunlight flooded through the clear glass, tracing the outline of her naked body through the shirt, pouring over her golden hair until it seemed to glow with its own inner light. My daughter couldn't help but be beautiful in my eyes, but it was heartwrenching to see her like this: eyes downcast and hair tangled, shoulders slumped, face marred by a worried frown.

"French Coffee, French Toast, French Kiss. Bon appetit." I laid the plate down in front of her, hoping to earn a laugh from our old joke.

"Thanks Daddy." She looked at her food and then up at me, cracking a tiny smile at last. Ok, it wasn't much, but I'd take it. Her eyes were still red.

Breakfast was slow and awkward. We munched quietly as we looked out the window towards the ocean, then I cleared the plates. Shae had pulled her legs up onto the dining room chair when I got back, and was resting her head on her knees as she watched the seagulls outside.

"Honey, I know you don't want to, but please, we have to talk. Now, when neither of us is angry or hurting."

I thought she might ignore me, but she finally turned her head.

"Ok."

I pulled the other chair closer and dropped into it.

"This is what I mean. Shae, even if it hurts us, or hurts the other person, even when we want be quiet more than anything, we still have to talk. We need to speak, gently, kindly. That's love. That's how people who love each other talk. It's impossible to keep things bottled up. They always come out one way or another. So we have to be completely honest with each other. COMPLETELY honest, even if it hurts. Especially if it hurts. Can we do that?"

She nodded again. She was listening.

"I'm sorry I've been neglecting you," I began. "It wasn't fair. I haven't been keeping up and I know it. I know you hate my new job and now I think I hate it too. I'll start making it up to you, somehow. I don't know how yet. Can you forgive me?"

She stared at me for a minute, arms curled around her legs, and I had the feeling I had missed the mark entirely, but she finally nodded. I took a deep breath. Now the other thing. Nothing for it but to drive the nail right into my heart. I took her hand and folded it between mine.

"Sweetie, I need to be sure. You're 13. You're growing up faster than I can believe, and you're in a new school and a new house and I know everything seems like it's changing. You'll be a woman before you know it. I can see it happening already."

I squeezed her hand and blundered on. "You're smart. You, well, you can make your own choices about what you want. I don't ever want you to think you're being forced to do something you don't want to do, or that you're being pressured, or-"

I choked and tried again. "Look, I'm saying that if you want something different, I can live with that." I couldn't, really, but Shae was more important. I was squeezing her hand so hard. "You're talented. You're clever. I don't ever want to hold you back from what you want to do, or...or who you want to be with. If you need something different, that's-"

"STOP IT!" She suddenly shouted at me. I wasn't squeezing her hand, she was squeezing mine, fury blazing in her eyes. "Stop! Stop it Daddy!" Her other hand was an angry fist pounding my bare chest. "Stop it just FUCKING STOP IT!" Her face was twisted with grief and anger, tears streaming over her cheeks. "STOP IT STOP IT!" She hit me twice more and then collapsed sobbing against my chest.

Oh no. My mouth had run me right over the edge into disaster. I held my little girl against me as she quaked, wondering how I had found a way to make things even worse.

"This is the worst thing you've ever said," she wept. "Stop it. I love you Daddy."

"I'm sorry." I hugged her back, burying my face in her hair. My grief had twisted itself into knots all morning, expecting the worst, and just like that it all let up, leaving me in a numb limbo. Shae still loved me. I was a tiny speck of a man, looking up at a tsunami, uncomprehending. She still loved me. My baby girl loved me. My wonderful daughter. It crashed over me all at once, a flood of emotion, and I sobbed in her hair and squeezed her until I thought her shoulders would crack. I had been worried for nothing. She still loved me.

"You're were crying," I murmured into her hair. "We made love and then you cried and...and I didn't know what to think Shae. You've been so mad at me. Why were you crying?"

"Oh come ON!" She pushed back and slapped my chest, still angry.

I stared at her until her expression softened. "I really don't know, honey," I said. "Please. You have to tell me."

She rubbed her eyes and flopped back on her chair, arms crossed defensively. "I don't even know where to start."

"Anywhere," I said.

Shae huffed and thought for a second.

"You know what happened at school yesterday?"

I shook my head.

"Sandy just started dating that guy John from the football team. She's wanted to be a cheerleader for basically forever. She tries out every year. Do you know what he said when she mentioned tryouts next spring?"

I suffered through the dramatic pause. "What?"

"He laughed in her face and said she was too fat to be a cheerleader. Right there in the hallway with everyone watching."

"Jeez, that's cold," I muttered.

She began ticking her fingers. "Rebecca's boyfriend stood her up for a date and then acted like nothing happened. Val's been depressed because that essay she worked really hard on was rejected for the essay contest. She was really upset. Ben just shrugged and said she should try again next year. Karen had this great science project her teacher was helping her with, but she just dropped it. Her boyfriend said he didn't want to date a dork."

She stood up and began to pace, looking mad just from talking about it. I wondered where she was going with this. I could never keep up with the drama from Shae's circle of friends.

"Look, I'm not stupid. Some of the guys at school are ok, but most are jerks. They're not like YOU." She stopped and folded her arms again. "My friends don't get to go dancing or go to fancy restaurants. They don't get presents like new clothes just because. They don't have someone who hugs them and listens and tells them they'll do better next time. They don't have someone that tells them they're special and then makes them BELIEVE it. Not like YOU.

She finally stopped pacing and whirled around.

"And do you know what all these girls DO when they get together?" she suddenly yelled. "They make fun of ME for not having a boyfriend! Like I'm some freak! And I want to tell them that my boyfriend doesn't tell me I'm fat! That you don't just take me somewhere cheap for a date and then ignore me the rest of the time! That they're idiots and they're WRONG and my Daddy is my boyfriend, that I LOVE you and you're amazing and..."

She stopped and stood there, cheeks burning, stiff with embarrassment, then stalked into the living room. I got up and followed. Shae had plopped onto the couch and was holding her head in her hands, dejected.

"It's really hard for me too Shae." The couch bounced as I dropped beside her. "Don't you think I want to tell everyone I know about you? I can show them the picture in my wallet and say 'this is my daughter', and then I have to stop. I can't tell them how sweet you are, how great it feels to see you smile, how much I care for you and what we share together." Emotion was cracking my voice too. "The people I work with, they've seen your picture a million times. They say I never stop talking about you, but they'd never understand. Every day I want to scream it at them so I don't have to hide it. I want to go down to your school and tell your stupid friends how much we love each other, and show them too. Give them a nice demonstration until their eyeballs pop out."

I was hoping she'd laugh, but she didn't. She wouldn't even look at me.

"Stop treating me like a kid," she whispered, then raised her voice over my protests. "Stop treating me like I'm STUPID! Remember those work friends you had over for dinner? Mary and her husband? They wouldn't shut up about how they had a girl on the way. Same with that guy you're always watching soccer games with from work. He proposed to his girlfriend. You told him how happy you were for him. And my math teacher, the new one, she was practically bubbling all week! She kept showing off her ring to the whole class, said her fiancé got it for her. That's what people do, they grow up and get married. Even the idiots at my school will probably figure it out. THEY'LL grow up, and THEY'LL get married, and THEY'LL have kids, and they won't have to HIDE it."

I was frozen, like watching a train wreck about to happen and powerless to stop it. Shae had never talked like this.

"Remember Beth and Caleb?" she asked.

Somehow I managed a nod.

"They're both 20. They only met a couple years ago, but they got married. She's already pregnant."

There was an iciness to her voice, and I could already see the answers hurtling along the tracks towards me.

"We've been together longer than they have."

There it was, the black, rotten core of what was troubling her. It hit like a freight train against my chest. A friend from school had invited Shae to her older sister's wedding, and I had taken her. Distractions, work, our move - I hadn't even thought about it since that day. She had been giddy during the ceremony but morose by the time we got home. Now I remembered. That was when it had started. What an idiot, to think she was mad just because of my new job. She probably was, but that just obscured the real problem.

"That's what people do," she muttered, hopping off the couch and beginning to pace again. "Grow up. Get married." The ice had melted into smoldering anger. "Have kids. Or they just get tired of each other and break up."

There was some part of me far away, screaming at the unfolding disaster, but I couldn't make it come out as anything more than a helpless wheeze from my chest.

"But it's ok. I know a lot of people who've broken up." Her voice sped up, rising in pitch, curling into choking anger. "You're probably tired of me by now. It's ok." She burst into tears and began shouting, as if she needed to give each lie more volume to make herself believe it. "I was probably never really good enough for you anyway! I'm pretty boring really. That's why you work all the time. That's why you told me I could try someone else if I wanted. It's ok!"

She whirled around, a 5-foot wisp, thin as a rail, hurt, furious, eyes blazing. I cowered under her wrath.

"You really deserve someone better anyway! Someone who can cook and isn't stupid about books and who knows what you're saying when you say something in French!"

She slammed her fist ineffectually against my chest in desperation. "Or...or in German" She hit me again. "Or all those other languages you...that you..." I grabbed her wrists. She was out of control, sobbing, hysterical. "Someone pre-prettier who knows about b-bank stuff and history and trading like you're always talking about! And, and s-s-soccer and..."

She jerked against my grip a last time, words sputtering through her hitching chest.

"I c-can't even get you to cum inside me unless you're s-sure I've taken my pill."

She broke down completely, sagging against me and bawling uncontrollably, shattered. My arms went around her, crushing her into a hug, leaning back on the couch and pulling the tiny girl all the way up into a crying ball on my lap. How could I have let things get so bad? What an idiot I was, what a failure, as her father and her lover. Neglect might have cost me everything. I held her head against my chest and rocked her back and forth, a weeping, shaking bundle of arms and legs, naked under the thin fabric of my oversized t-shirt. All I could hope for was that I could find the pieces of what I had shared with this vulnerable little girl and somehow put them back together.

My daughter had curled up in my lap, head resting against my stomach, calmed to somber sniffles and only the occasional hiccup. I was resting back against the couch, a numb shell, with one hand on her shoulder and the other stroking her long hair. Motes of dust danced in the wide beam of sunlight from the window, swirling in front of us, detritus from a storm that seemed to have passed over and through us and left the room in shattered silence.

"When was the last time we went out for Daddy-daughter day?" I asked softly.

"Hmmm." She stirred against me and adjusted her legs. "A few months I guess. Not sure."

"Four months," I said, after thinking for a minute. "In November. We went to that movie at the theater with the endless nachos deal."

"Yeah. They threatened to kick us out after the second movie."

"And you said if they did, you at least wanted some nachos to go," I remembered.

The memory hung palpably in the air, dancing in the still sunlight, just a brief connection - but something, at least. We had been sitting for a while, gently feeling around the raw edges of our wounds. The sunshine had shifted slowly, falling onto the couch cushion and edging Shae's hair with golden fire.

"Sorry about that." I stroked her hair where the sun had warmed it. "I miss doing that. I've missed you a lot."

"I know you had to work." Her fingernail scratched a idle track against my leg.

And those stupid pills. I hadn't even asked her. Just "here you go. Take them." What the fuck had I been thinking? I hadn't been thinking. It had just seemed obvious. It had been a Red Christmas and I had barely any time for her so I just got her the things she would need. Overworked, distracted, again.

"The pills too. I'm sorry about that Shae." My hand tightened on her shoulder. I needed her to believe me.

"Yeah. I mean, I know we have to..."

She trailed off, leaving the 'but' unvoiced. The elephant in the room.

"Daddy. I know you did all this stuff, the new house, taking the new job, everything else..." Her fingers tugged nervously at the leg of my boxers. "I know you did it for us so we could be together and not worry about people seeing us. I'm sorry. It was so exciting at first. We could do stuff all the time together, we could do whatever we wanted. I saw you working all the time and I felt like a jerk because why should I be complaining about anything? School is an hour longer now and I have to take the bus home so you'd always be busy by the time I got home, and... it just seemed like you didn't care.

I let out a long breath. Every girl had to learn her Daddy wasn't perfect at some point. I just wished it hadn't hurt her so much to find out.

"Sometimes I'll screw up, Shae. Sometimes I'll screw up bad. We both will, but stop thinking that means we're like your friends. What makes us different is that we'll talk about it and get through it. To do that we need to be open with each other. To communicate. Please don't ever shut me out like that again. We have to talk to each other, even when it hurts. ESPECIALLY when it hurts. That's when it matters the most."

I had expected too much, forgotten that I was the first and only relationship my 13-year-old daughter had ever had. This stuff wasn't obvious to her.

"Do you understand, honey?" I asked. She nodded her head uncomfortably on my lap. "Maybe it sounds corny, but this matters."

She opened her mouth to say something, then closed it and nodded again.

"Shae." I patted her shoulder encouragingly. "Don't hold stuff in. Please say it."

"I was..." she mumbled.

"What?"

She rolled her head, blue eyes looking up at me.

"I *was* trying to tell you."

"Oh..." I swallowed. "When?"

"Remember when you had that meeting?"

I had had lots of meetings every day for months, but for her sake I rested back on the couch and really tried to think. The lawyers, every day. My own team. Usually our Japanese clients too, board members and stockholders from Sony, Yamaha, Toshiba, dozens of others. Shae was always asleep, except she had showed up once in her green dressing gown trying to tell me something in the middle of a meeting. Fuck.

She must have seen the recognition in my face. "Also, when you were watching the games." She looked down again. "But you seemed like you were having such a good time."

Sheesh. The FIFA qualifiers. I had taped them and watched them late into the night for a week, the only real break I had had in months. Shae had kept falling asleep on the couch with me with her head in my lap, just like it was now. So that was it: a door shut in her face, a shush so I could hear a ref's ruling. More things I had missed.

"Sorry honey," I muttered. "Sometimes, you'll have to make me listen."

"Ok." Her mumble was half-hearted.

"No." I cupped her chin, made her look up at me again. "Not good enough. Promise me Shae, that if something is really important to you, that you will stop me, and you will tell me it's important, and you will make me listen. Don't keep silent. This has to go both ways."

"Ok Daddy." Her eyes were looking up into mine, searching. "I promise."

I cupped her head and bent down to give my daughter in a kiss, feeling her lips part, feeling them push back with heated breath, a gentle invitation so familiar to me. It was like seeing the sun again, inhaling the sweet smell of her breath, fingers brushing the smooth skin of her stomach and then dipping lower until her squirming thighs clamped eagerly around my hand. I savored my daughter's delights a few moments more, pressing and squeezing until she had wiggled onto her back on the couch, then we broke.

"We'll work on things until we're both happy again Shae." I squeezed my hand around hers. "And we'll do it together, not alone. One step at a time."

"Yeah." The sun had crept across the cushion, edging her face in light and painting gold across the tangled rivers of her hair. "Thanks Daddy," she said. She seemed a little better, the miserable frown melting from her face.

"Whatever we need to do, we'll do it together," I repeated, looking in her eyes to gauge her reaction. "Do you WANT to get married?"

"OH!" She jerked in my lap suddenly. "I mean, I guess, er, I hadn't really uh..." Her throat flushed crimson. "I don't know. I hadn't thought about it Daddy," she lied.

"Shae, be honest. We promised."

She looked down at her toes, ashamed.

"You have a stack of bridal magazines a foot high."

"They're just for skirt patterns!" she insisted, bristling.

"And you don't clear your browser history."

Her mouth closed mid-protest, a frightened look on her face like a cornered animal. She had made a promise and didn't expect I would hold her to it so quickly.

"Pronovias makes gorgeous dresses," I said. "I don't know if they'd make one so small, but they might if we ordered it through the agency. I'll bet you could make it work too. You're getting really good at alterations."

Her face was burning, looking away. I thought she was going to curl up into a ball again.

"Shae, please, look at me." She did. "It's ok, you don't have to be ashamed with me, ever. You've been looking for a couple years. I know you've been thinking about it. I'VE been thinking about it, and everything else too. I just didn't know what to do about it."

Her cheek was a hot flush of smooth skin under my fingers. She stared up at me, uncertainty written in her expression, the vulnerable face of my adoring daughter that I had cared for and loved in every way a man could. I couldn't let her be scared anymore.

"You'd be cute as a bride," I smiled.

The pause was interminable. I had left the door wide open. I needed her to meet me halfway.

"I guess..." she swallowed nervously. "I guess I can't decide if I should get one with a long skirt or not."

"You'll look great no matter what you pick. I'll need a new suit though."

"It's only the shoulders that don't fit you anymore. I could fix it."

"We could have a buffet of nachos, your favorite," I joked.

"I saw some bouquet suggestions in one of those magazines. Blue and white. Hydrangeas. It would be great."

"You have to promise not to grab me in the crotch at the altar."

"Uh-uh. Can't promise that." It was coming easier now, Shae finally beginning to smile again. "Hey would you want a dress with a veil?"

"I'd love one. It would be really easy to print the invitations," I smirked. "It would just say 'Watts' on it. You wouldn't even have to change your name."

"Yeah, but we couldn't invite anyone..."

And that was it, right out there in the open, the big, ugly face of reality standing in our way.

"No...we couldn't." I admitted.

"I wouldn't even be able to invite my friends," she muttered glumly, looking down and frowning again, her delight dying before it could take root.

Clouds had begun to block the sun outside, leaving only a dismal light from the windows, a fitting atmosphere for our uneasy silence. I had gone over this time and time again in my head, never confessing to my daughter. What could I say? It always ended helplessly at that awful, insurmountable truth. Or worse.

"Nobody here would ever marry us," I whispered.

"I know", she said, stiffening against me again.

"We couldn't even get a license."

"I know."

I was losing her again. The gloom had sapped her smile and replaced it with that dour frown that I hated so much.

"Not here anyway." I let the thought linger in the air. "So we go somewhere else."

"There's nowhere we could go Daddy."

"It's a big world Shae." A sort-of plan was coming together. Our friend Nicholas, the head of Select Petites and a man with shared interests, had mentioned this tangentially to me once. I would tap him, see what he could suggest.

"We'd have to give up the house," I said, thinking out loud. "Change our names."

"I know," she said.

"Our friends. Everyone, actually. Someone might come looking."

"I know." I could feel her squeezing my hand.

"My job, obviously. I'd have to work in another industry. I could never risk meeting anyone I know now."

"I know."

Maybe that was it. Maybe there was a way out. I rested my head back on the couch, trying to wrap my head around it.

"You'd have to give up modelling."

"I KNOW!"

I looked down and froze. She was furious, crushing my hand until I thought she would break it.

"You think I haven't THOUGHT about that? I'm not stupid Daddy. Your job. My school. I know. The modelling. The house. I know. The car, I know. Maybe everything we own, I know. Leave all my friends, move somewhere far away, I know. I can sell my clothes and do more jobs at SP if we need to until we're ready. Daddy I don't CARE about any of that as much as I care about you, and I used to love looking at those magazines but now if I pick one up I just think that if we even tried, they'd take you away Daddy and...and they'd throw you in prison and put me somewhere miserable and then I'll never see you again, they wouldn't even let me visit and then I'd want to die and..."

I grabbed her, hugged her as another sob ripped out of her throat, whispering in her ear to keep her from falling apart again. She was so fragile. I had let this go on for too long, longer than she could bear. Something had to give.

"That's not going to happen. Shae, sweetie." She sniffled in my arms as I slowly rocked her. "I'm right here. Shhhhhh, nobody's going to take me away."

The tears melted away, slowly, Shae finally settling down in my arms, her hands clutching nervously at the fabric of my underwear again like she thought I would vanish from the couch.

"Remember what I said?" I wiped a tear out of the corner of her eye. "We'll do it..."

She snivelled once. "We'll do it together."

"And one step at at a time. Don't think about all that at once. It's overwhelming. I don't know how we'll do it all, but we will."

And I had no idea how, but at least I could see the start of the path, just a few simple steps, leading to a few more, and then more. I wasn't helpless. I had a bit of wealth and some powerful and sympathetic friends, and a little girl worth doing anything for, risking anything for. One step after the other, and the very first one was lying in my lap. I had to make things up to her. We could get started right now.

I brushed her hair back from her cheek and used my thumb to scrub away the trail her tears had left. Everything in me was irrevocably tied up in this thin little girl with her head resting on my lap, wearing nothing more than an oversized t-shirt of thin grey cotton. I would never have had it any other way. Even if the police knocked down my walls and dragged me away and threw me in the darkest hole they could find, I would never regret a single moment spent with my daughter, and when my fingers finally coaxed a smile back to her face, like some long-lost treasure surfacing from the deeps, I knew that she would always feel the same.

My fingers dipped from her cheeks, down the slender neck still slightly flushed, past the bare shoulders sticking out from the drooping shirt. The smooth skin and sun-warmed hair, the growing smile, the faint push of her body against mine - all the lovely sensations of my baby girl opened up to me, her skin tingling and relaxing under her Daddy's magic fingers, arm brushing mine as she rubbed a hand on my chest, thighs beginning to show the familiar press and wiggle of her stirring desire. I bent and kissed her forehead, stroking a thumb against it, then kissed her cheek, tasting salt. Hot breathed stirred against my chin, then against my lips as I moved down and pressed a hungry kiss against her mouth. She pushed back eagerly, sucking my lower lip and pinching it with her teeth, a certain desperation conveyed in the brief nibble of a craving that had gone too long without being truly fulfilled.

Cotton rustled as I pushed the shirt lower, sliding the sleeve down her arm and slipping my fingers around the delightful mounds they found, squeezing the soft slopes of my daughter's tiny breasts in a hungry grip. Shae would probably never have a large chest, and that was just how I liked it. The budding swells of her 13-year-old tits were soft putty capped with perfect pink nubs that fit my fingers like they had been made for nothing else. I gave one a twist and a pinch, sparking the expected jerk and the long moan deep in her throat, muffled by my mouth writhing against hers.

I was going to make it good for her. I was going to make it RIGHT, damnit. My fingers and lips conducted the growing arousal of my daughter's body in perfect symphony, using every trick of their practiced technique. I slipped a hand lower, around her hip, pulling her up at an angle and sliding down the cotton to the perky little mound of her exposed buttcheek, gripping it tightly. When I was done with her, there would never be the slightest doubt in any part of her body how much her Daddy loved her. My squeezing fingers relented and dipped lower into the sweet cleft between my daughter's legs, finding the dewy crack and earning another long, muted moan deep in her throat when they explored the slippery landscape.

She lurched, I held her. She sagged and then pushed back again, and I squeezed her. She scratched a fingernail through my chest hairs, and I bore down on her pussy, slipping along the lips with growing pressure until I reached the delicious little bud at the top, making her fingers curl reflexively. I had put my cock in my little baby girl when she was 7, first her mouth, then her pussy, and she made me the happiest man on the planet with love in her eyes the whole time. The connection we forged was unbreakable, built on the strongest of foundations: a love between a father and his daughter. Since then I had always felt her passion like a shared echo, radiating up to me through some hidden bond. I could make her purr, make her pant, make her squeal or even scream, string her along or send her straight into a crashing climax. She moved, and I moved with her, like one body. Her thighs clamped reflexively, so I retreated to rub her stomach and hips, then broke our kiss so I could lean down farther and wrap my lips around her nipple, sucking on it and flicking it with my tongue. My little girl's mounting pleasure was a melody to which I wove a rising counterpoint, feeling it swell in her arching back and shaking legs.

I lifted her head up and rolled out from under her. I needed more leverage. She loved my fingers but I wanted to give her something even better. I switched to her other side, getting up onto my knees on the cushion, revelling in the sight of my daughter laying on her back on the couch in front of me, sweaty, panting, head jerking nervously on a pillow of tangled hair. I bent forward to help her push the shirt all the way up past her chest, pooling the fabric around her shoulders, then stroked my hands down the long, unbroken stretch of naked skin from her breasts to her navel and curving hips, then moved up her legs so I could push them farther apart and bend down between them.

Dew beaded the outer rim of her pussy lips and trickled into a tiny stream down below. I bent to catch it with my tongue, sliding up and along my daughter's flaring sex, musky juice pooling up until I reached the tip and spread it with my fingers so my tongue could dart in and give her clit a teasing flick. She went wild, thighs clamping around my ears, waist twitching, squeaking from her Daddy's expert ministrations. My finger reached her little tunnel and tested the waters, then slipped inside the sucking warmth, finding her almost there already. Not surprising I guess. Shae was always excitable, and her passions had been running high all morning. Eager heat radiated from her pussy as I slipped a second finger in beside the first.

My 13-year-old daughter's pussy was tight as a drum, but I knew every inch, had explored it with endless delight for 7 years. Fingers hunting, I inched upward and found the hotspot of passion just where I knew it would be, just after her sucking lips had slipped over my second knuckle. A tiny tickle, a brief arch of my digits, and Shae exploded, hips jerking towards me, fingers curling into fists in my hair as a long moan shuddered rapturously deep in her throat. It was time to bring the music of my daughter's desire to a crescendo. Suction swirled in delighted circles around my fingers, urging, begging, imploring me with the hungry clasp of muscles to dive deeper. I did, sinking farther and then pulling against the current to establish a gentle rhythm of thrusting fingers in her cunt, while my tongue and other hand traded off playing with her clit, massaging and tapping and gently flicking the shy red bud until her whole body lurched with a wild shriek.

I rode with her over the cliff into the wild storm of pleasure, feeling the pink surges that spiraled up from the pressure of her Daddy's fingers in her cunt as jerks that thumped her thighs against my head and wiggled her hips like a frantic animal. She squeezed one of her own tiny tits in her fingers, knuckles white, the other hand wrenching my scalp until I was sure I would lose some hair. Shae orgasmed fiercely on the couch, back arching, shrieking an ecstatic aria that filled the room and then faltered slowly down to an erratic series of treble squeals before ebbing to a panting, moaning, shaking aftermath that left her tiny body quivering on the couch in a slackened stupor.

Leaving my fingers buried deep in the velvet vice, I raised myself up over my naked daughter to give her a kiss, using the slick fluid coating my lips and chin to give her a generous taste of the fruits of her own excitement.

"Oh God, Daddy..." Shae heaved breathlessly when we broke. Her fingers slid up my cheeks and twined together behind my neck, pulling me down roughly for another kiss as though the three inches of space between us was too much to bear. My chest was tingling, hairs brushing the soft skin of her breasts and curling around her poking nipples. "I just don't know..." she gasped when we broke again, "how you make that...so good...every time." A moist sheen was on her cheeks, the confluence of drying tears, saliva, and the nectar from her sweet spot down below. I brushed it away and smiled at her, bathing in the deep blue pools of her satisfied gaze.

"I just think about how much I want to make you happy." I squeezed her tiny breast and trailed my fingers down her stomach. "The rest just comes."

I heard the distant sound of my laptop beeping impatiently, far away in the kitchen. A lot of people would be wondering where I was. I ignored it.

"Here." I hooked my hands under her armpits and helped her sit up. "I'm going to make you happy again baby girl." I pulled off the rumpled t-shirt and used my fingers to unsnarl a tangle of long hair so I could brush it back over her shoulder. "That was just the start. We're not done here until you say we're done."

"Ok." I knew she could feel the pressing bulge of my underwear pushing against her leg as we sat. She looked down at the cotton tent, then back up. "You don't have to be so one-sided Daddy. Here." She pushed against my leg. "Stand up. Let me make you feel good too."

I got up like she wanted, and stood in front of her as scooted off the couch and got on her knees on the floor. Ten tiny fingertips crawled slowly up my legs, enjoying the curve of my calves, then slipped up the cotton fabric to curl around the hem of my underwear. My daughter looked up at me, a familiar impish gleam growing in her eyes as she locked her gaze on mine and slowly pulled. She liked undressing her Daddy, almost as much as I liked undressing her. My manhood flexed painfully and then spilled out over the edge of the fabric, snapping into position an inch from her face. She giggled and butted it playfully with her nose before helping me pull my underwear the rest of the way off.

I could make my daughter cum with a touch, and she could do the same to me. Her fingers wrapped expertly around my shaft, squeezing slightly, the bouncing motion and rigid velvet texture of her Daddy's familiar organ still managing to stir a faint sense of enchantment in her eyes. Little girls are always fascinated by a man's penis. They see a bulging manhood through the same lens of wonder and mystery that they see the rest of life. Shae knew every square inch of the taut flesh under her stroking fingers - it had been shoved in her mouth, jammed into her butt, and stuffed in her tiny pussy in bed and in private and in public and asleep and awake and in every imaginable pounding, thrusting variation in between more times than any of us could have counted, and still, still the musky scent under her flaring nostrils and the dripping glans pressing against her lips seemed to hold a wild, primal fascination that drew and captured her attention irresistibly. Nobody loved her Daddy's cock like Shae did, and her tongue snaked out to lick my tip, catching a taste of precum, preparing to prove it to me once again.

Slippery warmth curled around my head and pushed farther as my daughter took me in her mouth, sparking a wave of shivers that rippled up my back. Her eyes stayed locked on mine, Shae staring up at her Daddy, reading my signs and refusing to look away. It was one of her favorite tricks. Nobody could have resisted those deep blue orbs, shining with a hungry desire to please as inch upon inch of my erect cock slid into her mouth until I was butting up against the back of her throat. Her cheeks worked when she stopped, blowing in and out and working to coat the rigid meat in her mouth with a flood of gooey saliva.

I was in heaven. Every father should be so lucky as to have their 13-year-old daughter's mouth wrapped enthusiastically around their bulging cock. Shae clamped down with sucking friction and pulled slowly back, inches of fat, glistening meat pulling out of her mouth, then reversing and slipping inside as she began a hungry bobbing motion with her head. Fingers rippled around the base of my shaft, a tongue snaked teasingly under my glans, and her mouth worked eagerly as the sucking massage stroked up and down my length. An expert, driving by touch alone. She didn't need her eyes to navigate the familiar organ filling her mouth. She kept them locked on my face, reading the droop of my eyelids, the furrow of my brow, the frequency of my excited panting.

The hot pleasure swirling in my gut had almost reached a boil when she suddenly pulled off and left me waving in the air, catching a gooey drip from my tip before it could fall, then settling back on her legs.

"Daddy," she said, wiping her lips. "Fuck me." She stood up. "For real this time." She pressed against me in a hug, trapping my oozing cock against her stomach. "Please."

You could as soon have asked a boulder to stop rolling downhill or a freight train to stop hurtling along the tracks as kept me from doing anything but stuffing my dick in my daughter and pounding her until she screamed right at that moment. I picked her up under the armpits and swung her around next to the armchair. She was so light, a delicate feather in my hands. She had wound me into overdrive, stoked me to a horny boil on the verge of explosion. My hands twisted her shoulders, turning her around, then roughly bent her over the armrest and forced her head down onto the cushion and held it there. The armrest was wide, the fabric soft and comfortable. These wouldn't be the first stains we had left on this chair. I jerked my pelvis up against hers, slapping her legs against the chair, pushing her butt up more so the angle was right and my cock could rub up against the dripping slit of her little pussy. A whimper came from deep in the cushion under my iron grip - the good whimper, the "do it now" whimper, the hushed, wordless mewl of my daughter's craving to have me inside her.

My hungry cock was poised at her cunt, flexing against the tiny hole. She wanted me, and she was going to get me. No more closed doors, no more empty beds at night. Never again. Whenever she needed me, I would satisfy her, like a good father should. I had got her every gift that money could buy, delighted in every second, and ended up neglecting the one thing she really wanted. It might have cost me everything, but now I was going to make it right.

Pink lips flexed and flared and spread wide around my penetrating girth, flushed visitors welcoming me to the steaming tunnel of gripping warmth beneath. I pushed impatiently, burying the head, sinking an inch into the glorious tightness, then another, relishing my baby girl's insides. It's like coming home, pushing into your own daughter's cunt, like finding the perfect warmth of a sweet paradise formed and grown and molded solely for you and nobody else, waiting patiently its entire existence to draw you inside it and lavish you with every comfort and wild pleasure you could have ever conceived. Pussy muscles spasmed around my girth. Thighs trembled in shock against mine as the turgid invader penetrated her body and pushed recklessly inside. My baby girl vibrated under my weight, my clenching grip, her little body a twig on the verge of snapping. Her bottom looked so small under me, quivering around the engorged shaft. Her waist was tiny compared to mine. She was less than half my weight, a kitten shivering delicately under a bull. Ravenously, I took it all in. I was going to fuck my little girl senseless.

Stiff flesh prickled and flashed as I began a long, slow stroke into my baby girl, working more of my mammoth length into the little twat, pushing a bit farther as she loosened up. The sweet warmth opened up inside, parting grudgingly, then squeezing back in gratitude as I plunged into the depths. The end of a long stroke brought her bottom against my pelvis with a wet slapping sound, balls thumping against her thigh. I savored it, savored her, the little moan from deep in the cushion matching the pattern of hungry spasms of her pussy around my cock.

I pulled back and thrust again, then again, sliding my prick in rapid motions into my daughter's clenching tunnel. My eyeballs rolled greedily from the slapping globes of her butt down the long, smooth stretch of her arching back to the root of her hair where my hand had locked her against the cushion. God she was lovely. No little girl had ever teased and wiggled and posed and squealed and bent over and kneeled down and sucked and fucked and bounced and goaded her Daddy into a wild twisting knot of pleasure like my baby girl had done for me. Enthralled. Beguiled. Infatuated. No word was too harsh to capture the inflamed obsession of my passionate love for the sweet little girl I had conceived and cared for and loved as deeply and thoroughly as any man could. I bounced her against the chair, ramming my bursting cock into the luscious heat. Not far off now. Neither of us were. The feedback loop of pumping, spasming muscles sent us both soaring on a shared rocket of wild sparks up into a booming stratosphere of pink lightning that thundered through our blood and into the pounding flashpoint where our bodies connected.

Breathing raggedly, ramming my prick desperately into her cunt, I bent down to whisper in her ear.

"I'm gonna cum inside you baby girl."

"Thoo et." I let her head up so she could talk.

"Do it Daddy." She turned her head back and arched her neck, cheek beating against the cushion from the hammerblows of my cock into her bottom. "Please." Her fingers were twitching, curling, tearing tiny threads from the cushion's fabric. "Cum in me Daddy," she begged.

The intensity in her eyes was the spark that ignited a wildfire of raving lust in my crotch. I reared back and drove it home, banging my daughter's pelvis against the chair with a furious, crazed abandon. I could feel it, deep inside, the mounting energy of a cresting tidal wave that would flood my fertile daughter with the juice of life. The decision was easy. I made it in a heartbeat and never looked back. A baby had always been a distant possibility, lurking where I refused to entertain it. I hadn't even realized how I had ignored it. People would talk. There would be questions about a pregnant 13-year-old. Lots of questions. But damn them, I'd do anything for this. Anything for her. Let them see how much we loved each other. Let them gawk and scream and point. Shae was looking back at me, her expression glazed with euphoria. I saw the trust there. I hadn't lost it. That sweet, innocent, vulnerable faith and conviction that she was safe in her Daddy's arms, that I would always be there for her even when things were strained, filling her up with love and everything else she needed.

Roaring lightning seized me in its grip at the same time I heard my daughter scream. I bottomed out, slamming against her cervix as the volcano of frothing white lava erupted in my balls and rocketed upwards into her belly. Our bodies snapped together, howling, twisting in violent ecstasy, father and daughter joined together in a carnal bond of fervent joy, sharing breath, sharing joy, sharing our hearts and minds and the vital essences of our bodies deep inside, hot spurts of gushing fluid filling my girl and planting the seeds of our forbidden love inside her. Cyclone suction whirled and sucked the seed from my prick and milked each live-giving squirt, paying me back with rapture, until my vibrating senses tapered off to a needle point of ringing haze and my cock gave up a final spew and began to wilt in in my little girl's pussy.

There was a warm body beneath me, but beyond that I was sure of nothing at all. I drifted in a vision: my pounding cock piledriving a flood of rich semen into my daughter's womb, the thick batter squeezing in and coating every wall and fold of her insides. A billion tiny strands of sperm, seeping deeper into the temple, branching out and searching with maddening intensity for their treasure, dashing themselves to pieces until one tiny soldier claimed victory and grew into a cherished gift in my daughter's body until her belly swelled like a canteloupe. I wanted it. I hadn't even realized how much I did until now. Shae stirred against me, snuggling her head against my chest. We were on our sides, spooning on the wide armchair, legs splayed over the side.

Time passed unremarked by us both, my naked daughter's warm back pressed up against me. Occasionally I heard a beep from my laptop, announcing another email. Irrelevant now. The only thing I cared for was the warm bundle of satisfied girl in my arms. My mind was clearing up, the post-coital bliss from ejaculating into my daughter finally fading away.

The clock ticked its oblivious metronome, arms marching in circles as I cuddled my daughter. They curved the same sweeps, passed the same spots, rising and falling, getting nowhere. From one obstacle to the next, round and round, coming up against the same impossibilities over and over. Circles. We'd have to find some way. My daughter and I needed a miracle, and those were in short supply.

Shae finally stirred. "Thanks Daddy. Love you." She gave me a kiss, brief but enthusiastic, then slipped off the chair and padded naked over the carpet. I sat up, feeling like I couldn't get my bearings, unable to focus. Circles, again. A hopeless, unthinkable ring of insurmountable problems. How to move money, how to get identification, citizenship, a marriage license. A house. A sympathetic doctor. How does someone disappear and start over and ensure they can't be followed? I didn't know.

But maybe there was a way. I tried to relegate the inconceivable to the back of my mind and focus on what remained. I'd have to travel, that was for sure. I'd never trust a place unless I had already been there, lived there, made sure it was safe for my daughter. The house and car and other assets could be held in trust until they could be liquidated. Nick would help me there, I was sure. He was fabulously wealthy and his accountants could probably pull off any miracle.

The microwave beeped from the kitchen and began to hum. The other parts I didn't know how to solve. Where could a man possibly find a place to marry his 13-year-old daughter and live out in the open with no secrets? Fantasy. Even if we did find such a place, how would we live? I heard Shae open the microwave and put something on a plate. I believed her if she said she'd give up everything, but I couldn't see her ever really being happy in poverty. Maybe I was wrong though.

She reappeared, naked, unconcerned by the semen drying on her thighs, bearing a plate of reheated French Toast. She plopped down next to me, resting her head on me like a pillow, and handed me a piece.

A long silence passed. I chewed, untasting, staring out the window at the waves of the beach and thinking.

A plate thumped on the cushion. My sixth sense tingled, and I looked down at Shae, saw her staring up at me.

"When?" she asked.

No elaboration was needed, but I had no answers. There were just too many variables. It was overwhelming. One step at a time. Just one. I made a decision.

"Come on," I said, getting up. I walked through the kitchen to the laundry room and pulled out the sweatsuit I used for jogging, and a loose blouse and skirt for Shae.

"Daddy?" Shae trailed uncertainly into the laundry room behind me.

"Here, put these on," I said. I yanked on my pants and jacket, then went back to the kitchen for the other thing I needed, slipping it deep into my pocket so it wouldn't rattle.

"Are we going somewhere?" Shae came out of the laundry room, dressed and confused.

"Walk with me sweetie." I pulled open the back door and gestured, following her outside to the deck and then shutting it behind us.

I was antsy. The walk would do me good, clear my head. We climbed down to the sandy littoral and I rested my hand on her shoulder as we walked along the path of wooden planks to the pier. More clouds had moved in, darkening the sky, filling the sea with a chilly wind that blew Shae's long hair out behind her. The ocean seemed placid compared to the tumult we had been through, lazy waves sloshing around the wooden supports of the pier as we walked out onto the dark water.

We reached the end and stared out into the ocean together. We had watched the sunset here several times. Now there was just a murky blackness looming in front of us, a distant menace still unheard and unfelt, promising a storm to come.

"I have a lot to apologize for," I began. "I'll start here."

I crouched down next to her, then pulled out the bottle of birth-control pills and put them in her hand. She almost recoiled, but I pushed the bottle into her open palm.

"I'm sorry I did this without talking to you. That was stupid of me. I promise I won't make decisions like this for both of us ever again."

Shae held the bottle, looking uncertain, the mounting wind rippling her blouse and skirt and scattering her hair.

"It wasn't my choice to make like that, so I'll turn it around." My hand covered hers and curled her fingers around it, so she was holding it tight.

"These are yours, Shae. You can do whatever you want with them."

"Oh." She was biting her lip, looking down at the orange cylinder in her hand. "You won't make me take them?"

I shook my head. "I won't make you do anything. This is your choice. I want YOU to tell me 'when', and we'll figure out the rest together.

She swallowed, lips pursed nervously, still looking down.

"Whatever I want?" Her voice was thin on the wind.

"Yes Shae. Whatever you want. Whenever you choose."

She didn't hesitate for a heartbeat. Long hair flipped and swirled behind her as she turned and threw the pills as hard as she could. Shae had an athletic build but wasn't keen on sports. Too much structure and waiting. But she had never hurled anything in her life so hard or with such determined vehemence as she flung that pill bottle against the wind and out into the waters of the ocean. It arced high through the air, spinning, then landed far out with a tiny plop in the water.

She whirled around and wrapped me in a hug before I could even say anything, hiccuping, tears forming in the corners of her eyes. It was her choice to make, but it was exactly what I had hoped for.

She kept one arm wrapped tightly around me as we walked back, like she would never let go. I was thinking again. I'd call Shae's school and tell them she had the flu. Then I'd call my work and tell them I quit. I'd call Nicholas and we'd get together and have a private talk about matters very personal to both us. I could cash out all my investments, put every dollar towards finding a way for us to escape, to live as ourselves. It would take a lot of work. I'd have to travel. I'd probably be away from home a lot.

But every moment in between, I would be laying my daughter down on our bed, or pushing her onto her hands and knees with her butt in the air, or just bending her over whatever piece of furniture was nearest and ramming my cock into her until she hollered and I left another warm deposit of baby juice deep in her womb. The pills would wear off soon. It was what she wanted, what we both wanted. My baby girl had made me the happiest father in the world when she was 7, and now it was my turn to fulfill everything she wanted, to pump her full of her Daddy's semen and keep her full until her belly began to swell with the first faint bump of our child.

The future wouldn't always be perfect, and we couldn't guarantee that we would never hurt each other again. Such promises couldn't be kept, but at least we had a better idea of where we were going and how we would have to grow to get there. I didn't know how we would solve the problems that would inevitably face us, but I had no doubt that my future was with Shae, and it was a future filled with wonderful possibilities. Things would be tough, but we would tackle them together, and with my daughter standing with me, the love of my life, I was certain we could overcome anything.