Gender: Male Age: 61 Location: Northeastern U.S.
|Introduction: An old girlfriend's daughter changes my life.|
My doorbell rang. People I know normally call before they come to my house, so I was annoyed at being disturbed by a survey-taker or someone equally unwelcome, especially this late in the evening. I closed my book, went to the door, and looked through the peephole.
There was a young woman in a sundress standing outside. She didn't have a clipboard or a sample and demonstration kit. There was a purse slung over her shoulder, and what looked like a DVD case in her hand. I couldn't imagine who she was. She wasn't dressed like the weirdos that go door-to-door selling religion, and she didn't really look like a hatchet murderer, either. In a way, she looked familiar, and she was very cute, but she looked tired and unhappy. I opened the door.
“Are you Matt Chambers?” she asked.
“Yes. What do you want?” I responded.
“My mother gave me this DVD and told me to bring it here and watch it with you.”
I had never heard that line before. “Is this some kind of new-age sales pitch?”
She said, “Please, just play it. Mom told me she knew you from when you were kids, and she made me promise to bring it to you. She begged me not to watch it alone. She said we had to watch it together the first time.”
“I don't understand,” I said.
“You're Matthew Chambers, aren't you?
“Matt, yes,” I replied.
“I'm Deborah Harrison's daughter, Amy.”
“Deborah Harrison? Debbie? Wow, that was a long time ago. I haven't seen her since right after high school. How is she?”
“She died last week. Ovarian cancer. The doctors didn't find it in time,” the girl said. She looked like she was going to cry.
“Oh, I'm so sorry. I had no idea. Come in. Sit down, please.” Gesturing toward the sofa, I sat on the foot stool in front of my reading chair. “Your name is Amy?”
“Is there anything I can do?” I asked.
Amy pulled a tissue from her purse and dabbed her eyes. “I'm done crying, for now at least. I did a lot of that over the last four years, ever since Mom was diagnosed. She had surgery, radiation, chemo, even some experimental treatments. She finally got to the point that she asked her doctor what her odds were. He said about one in ten of surviving another year, if the new drugs worked. That would be considered a successful clinical trial. She politely told him to screw himself and came home.”
“That's the Debbie Harrison I remember, all right,” I said, smiling. Amy made eye contact with me and actually smiled a little herself.
“That's exactly what Mom said you'd say,” she said. “Play the DVD. Mom made me promise to watch it with you. She made me promise again just before she died. I have no idea what's on it.”
I still didn't understand what was going on, but I popped the DVD into my player and grabbed the remote. “OK, here goes,” I said, pushing the “Play” button.
The screen was black, and then a woman's voice came through the speakers. She said, “Amy, Mattie, this is the video version of my Last Will and Testament.”
“That's Mom,” Amy said.
The voice continued, “At the end of this video is the phone number of my lawyer. He will have been notified of my death and will mail you letters with passwords. When you call him with those passwords, he will begin the process of settling my estate. I've always been a fighter, but sooner or later, I know I'm going to lose this battle with the big C.
“Anyway, I, Debbie Harrison, make this video, and the legal documents my attorney has for you, in sound mind and in good faith.
“If either you, my darling Amy, or you, Mattie, are watching this alone for the first time, trust me on this: I will come back and haunt the living shit out of you. Amy, you know what a bitch I can be, and Mattie, I'm sure you remember how I was. I never really changed. Sorry. Deal with it. I did.
“Now, I trust you two are in a room together, probably Mattie's living room. Sit together on the couch, get comfortable, and say good things about me. I'll be back in one minute.”
There was an audible click, and then nothing.
“Debbie's the only one who ever got away with calling me Mattie. What the hell?” I said.
“That was Mom,” Amy said. She was almost giggling.
“Yeah, it sounds like she really didn't change. I remember how she was, but I always liked her. We had a lot of fun,” I said, smiling.
“Knowing Mom, this will be interesting, in a weird sort of way. So, I guess you need to move over here and get comfortable. May I?” Amy asked, gesturing toward her feet. “These sandals are cute, but they suck to wear all day.”
“Of course,” I said, kicking off my shoes. I plopped down on the couch next to Amy and put my stockinged feet up on the coffee table. “Come on, put your feet up.”
Amy put her bare feet onto the table and sighed, “Thanks. I guess our minute is just about gone.”
Debbie's face appeared on the screen a moment later. She looked older, of course, but she was still just as beautiful as I remembered. The main change in her appearance was that she looked too thin.
Debbie started talking. “OK, are you two comfortable? I hope so. I feel weird talking to a camera, but I want you to be able to remember me when I still looked human. I'm in remission right now, but I know it won't last this time, either.
“Amy, honey, by the time you see this, you will have seen me at my worst. I'm sorry you've had to go through that. Just remember, I love you and I'm free of all pain now. Mattie, I know I'm a lot older than I was when you last saw me, but right now, I feel pretty good about my appearance if I have a wig on. So, this is supposed to be a happy video. It also has some things in it that I've never told anyone, including the two of you.”
Amy said, “She must have made this about two years ago. That's about how she looked the summer after I turned sixteen. I remember she bought a new camera.”
Debbie continued, “First, I want to talk to you, Amy. I've tried to be the best mother I could to you. I trust that you know, or someday will know, that everything I've ever done since you were born has been driven by my love for you. Yes, I've been harsh at times, and I've been strict, but I've tried to raise you right. I've provided for you very well, if I do say so myself, and you will be fine after I'm gone. Just contact the lawyer.
“I'm going to try to keep doing their stupid treatments until you're eighteen, but then I might just accept the inevitable. If you're eighteen or older now, you will start getting a monthly payment from a sizable trust fund, and when you turn twenty-five, you'll have access to the principal to do with as you wish.”
“Oh my God,” Amy said. “I never knew Mom had any real money.”
The video went on, “As you know, Amy, I made all my final arrangements myself. The funeral home will have contacted my attorney to notify him of my death by now, so he will have already begun implementing my instructions by the time you see this. Mattie, the lawyer's office isn't far from you. You'll have to go see him too, since you're the executor of my estate. I didn't ask you, but I knew you'd do it because you're a good guy. You were when we knew each other, and I've sort of checked up on you over the years. I wasn't being a stalker. I kept my distance. Now, I think I'll take a break so you two can talk to each other.”
The screen went blank again.
We sat in silence for a moment, staring at the blank and silent television. Finally, Amy turned toward me and asked, “How well did you know my mother?”
Here it comes. I felt my face start to burn.
“We went to school together, all the way from first grade. We played at each other's houses as kids, hung out with the same people. We had classes together all through school. As we got older, we sort of group-dated with some of our other friends. Your Mom and two of her friends and me and two of my buddies all went to the prom together. Stag, really, since it was a group date. The summer after graduation Debbie and I dated some. I guess she was kind of my girlfriend for a little while.”
“Did you have sex with her?” Amy asked.
“Yes,” I said. “A couple of times. We weren't exclusive, and we knew it wasn't going anywhere.”
“She told me she didn't know who my father was,” Amy said. “She admitted she went a little wild the summer after graduation. So, do you think you're my father?”
“It's possible. I guess that's why I'm the executor of her estate. Honest, Amy, I didn't know,” I said.
“It's OK,” Amy said. “Mom told me that if I ever found my father, I shouldn't hate him, because she was sure he never knew she was pregnant. She told me she moved away from home as soon as she found out.”
“That explains it. All I ever knew was she moved away suddenly. No one seemed to know where she had gone, and her parents claimed they didn't know,” I said.
“They probably didn't. I never knew much about my grandparents. Apparently they died when I was a baby, and Mom didn't talk about them much.
“I remember that. They were on vacation on someone's boat and there was a bad storm. They drowned along with one or two others,” I replied. “That was about two years after Debbie left town.”
“Do you have any other children?” Amy asked.
“Until a few minutes ago, I didn't think I had any children. I never got married. I got so caught up in starting my own business that I didn't take much time for women. I guess you could say I married my business.”
“That's the way Mom was. She told me she worked very hard to take care of a baby, go to school, and still feed us, but it paid off. I grew up in a big house in a nice neighborhood, and Mom's business was constantly expanding. She finally sold it when she gave up on the treatments,” Amy said.
“Look at the screen,” I said, pointing to numbers counting down from ten. “I guess the video's re-starting.
“Hi again,” Debbie's image on the TV said. “I hope you've had a nice discussion. The truth is, Mattie could be your father, Amy, but it's a one in three chance. I know, don't judge. I told you I was a little wild that summer after high school. To be honest, I was kind of a slut. And, I got a wonderful, sweet, brilliant, beautiful daughter out of it.
“Here's the thing. The other two guys are now dead. Sam got drunk and drove into a tree on his twenty-first birthday, and Ron went in the service and died in Afghanistan about five years before I made this video,” Debbie said.
“Those guys were my buddies in school that we went to the prom with,” I said to Amy.
The video continued, “I broke contact with everyone after I left my parents' home, but I did some checking when I first realized I wasn't immortal. So Mattie, whether you're the father or not, you're my executor, the trustee of Amy's fund, and her guardian, if you'll have her and if she's not yet eighteen.
“It's up to you to decide whether to get tested to find out if you're father and child. My lawyer has instructions to pay for it if you want it. Discuss it between yourselves and decide what's best. The attorney's office has instructions to make room in their schedule at ten in the morning on the Monday after you call.
“Obviously, I don't know when I'm going to die, so that means I don't know when you're going to see this. Mattie, if you would be so kind, let Amy stay at your place tonight, so you two can talk. Decide in the morning when you're going to contact my attorney. He mailed both your passwords to your address, Mattie. They should get there within a day or two after you see this video, if you, Amy, followed my request to go to Mattie's the day after my funeral.
“Here's the lawyer's contact information,” Debbie said, as her image was replaced on the screen by a name and phone number. “Amy, know that I have always loved you, and I will love you for eternity. Mattie, I should have let my feelings for you keep me in town. Well, what's done is done. See you on the other side.”
The screen went blank, and then to static. The video was over.
Finally, Amy looked at me and said, “Now what?”
“Well, I guess we should get in contact with the lawyer as soon as we get our passwords,” I said. “Today's Wednesday, so if we get them in tomorrow's or Friday's mail, maybe we can call him and go see him this coming Monday.”
“Do you want to know if you're my father?
I had to think about that one. “How old are you now, Amy?”
“Almost nineteen, so you won't have to be my guardian,” she said.
“Do you want to know?” I asked.
“I'm not sure. Let's think about it and decide tomorrow. We won't do the testing unless both of us can honestly say we want it, OK?” Amy asked.
“Sounds fair,” I replied. “Well, I guess I should make up the bed in the guest room if you want to stay here.”
“I don't want to impose. I can get a motel room.”
“Nonsense. It's late. You must be tired. Try to get a good night's sleep, and we'll talk after we have breakfast. How do you like your eggs?” I asked.
“A bachelor who cooks? I think I'll make breakfast. May I see your kitchen?” Amy asked.
“I'll give you the grand tour. It should take you about ten seconds to see everything my kitchen has to offer.”
We went in the kitchen and I opened the refrigerator and pantry.
“Hmmm, scrambled eggs, sausage, toast, jelly, orange juice, and coffee. Would that be OK?” Amy smiled at me.
“I'll make the coffee, but I like it strong. I grind my own,” I said.
“Black, no sugar. You're on,” she said.
“Do you have an overnight bag?”
“In the car.”
We went outside, and I got the bag out of her car trunk. Back in the house, I said, “Come with me.” I went upstairs, and Amy followed. I walked into the guest room and set her bag on the desk. Then I got linens from the hall closet and made up the bed. “I'll put fresh towels in your bathroom for you.”
“Oh, I could use a shower. It's been a long day,” Amy said.
“OK, I'll be downstairs if you feel like talking after you're done,” I replied..
I had just finished watching the news when I heard the shower shut off. I went upstairs and called through her door, “Amy?”
“You want something to drink?”
“That would be great. I'll be down in a second,” she called back.
I was in the kitchen when she came in. “What would you like?” I said, not bothering to turn around.
“What are you offering?” she asked, coming over to stand near me.
She was wearing a t-shirt that came halfway down her smooth, toned thighs. I forced myself to look in her eyes. “There's iced tea, soda, spring water, and orange juice.”
“What are you having?” Amy asked.
“Actually, I was thinking of a nice cold beer, and a little tumbler of whiskey. As you said earlier, it's been a long day.”
“Could I have that?” she asked.
“You're only eighteen.”
“Almost nineteen. If you're my father, I certainly won't tell if you let your daughter drink a little bit. Besides, it's not like I've never had a drink before. Mom let me have a few controlled parties at our house. If you're not my dad, you're still a family friend, I guess, so I don't see a problem,” Amy replied.
“Not a word outside this house,” I warned.
“Not a word.”
I got a second glass, poured us each two fingers of whiskey, opened two beers, and carried everything into the living room. We sat on the couch.
“To Mom,” Amy said, raising her whiskey glass.
“To Debbie,” I replied.
We each took a swallow of our liquor.
“Tell me more about her,” I said. “Not her illness. I've seen that up close. My aunt died that way when I was in high school. I remember it more clearly than I'd like to.”
“She was a strong-willed woman. She was a hard worker, smart, driven, and brave. She refused to let her illness get in the way of building the company she started. Even after she gave up on the treatments and sold the business, she stayed on as a consultant. A week before she died, she did an online conference with the new owners and some of the key players. A bunch of her former employees were at the funeral, looking as lost as I was. God, I miss her!” She started to cry quietly.
I debated with myself for a moment, but when she looked up at me, and I had to go over to her and hug her. She sobbed on my shoulder.
“Amy, is there anything I can do?” I asked.
“No, no,.... Yes, there is,” she said, pulling herself together. “Tell me what you remember about her. What was she like when you knew her?”
“Well, she was just like you remember her, smart, brave, and full of determination. She always told me she was going to be rich. At first, I laughed at her, but when we got older, I realized that she just might do it. I guess she did,” I said.
“What did she look like?” Amy asked. “I don't think I ever saw any pictures of her from before I was about ten.”
I thought for a moment. “She actually looked a lot like you, but with shorter hair. Wait, I think I know where my high school yearbook is.” I went to the closet and pulled out a box of old photo albums and keepsakes. “Yes, here it is. Franklin, Gomez, Glassmeyer, Harbold, ah, here she is, Debbie Harrison. Look.” I handed the book to Amy.
“Oh my God, that does look like me!” Amy exclaimed. “Wait, how's this?” she said, sweeping her long hair back and holding it behind her head.
“Yes, now that I can see your whole face, you look amazingly like her, just as pretty,” I said.
“You said you guys dated and were lovers. Did you really care about her?”
“Debbie said she wasn't in love with me when we were together. She knew I was developing some pretty strong feelings for her, but she told me that she couldn't commit to a long-term relationship. I told her I agreed, but I was pretty hurt inside. I was really starting to fall in love with her,” I said. “When she took off, I already knew that she never intended to get serious, but I still missed her a lot.”
Amy said, “She was my mom, and we fought some times when she set limits on me, but she was my best friend. I only hope I can grow up to be the kind of woman she was.”
By this time, we had finished our drinks. I was feeling relaxed, and I was starting to enjoy Amy's company. The more I looked at her, the more I saw Debbie.
“You want another beer?” Amy asked.
“Sure. I don't have any meetings tomorrow, and my partner owes me some time off anyway. I'll just leave him a voicemail on his office phone.”
“Great. You do that while I get us another beer,” Amy said, getting up and heading to the kitchen.
I watched her bend over to get the bottles from the bottom shelf of the refrigerator. Her ass looked just like her mother's had, firm, tight, squeezable,... Wait a minute! This could be my own daughter! I mentally smacked myself and made my phone call.
“So, I'll call you before lunch and explain better. Talk to you then,” I said, hanging up as Amy handed me a fresh beer.
She sat on the couch, her legs tucked under her, and her body turned so she could look at me. We talked for hours, Amy telling me about her childhood, and me telling her stories about her mother. As it got later, Amy shifted her position several times until she was almost lying down, propped by a few throw pillows. I realized that I could see the crotch of her panties under her shirt, which had ridden up with her movements. It was also obvious that she wasn't wearing a bra, since I could see the shape of her nipples under the thin fabric.
I forced myself to look at the dark TV screen, to keep from getting more aroused than I was already, and started telling Amy about the trip our group had made to the beach after graduation. After a while, I glanced at Amy and saw that she was asleep.
She looked so good lying there, so much like her mother, the most beautiful girl I had ever been with. I wondered if Amy were as good in the sack as her mom had been.
Enough! I got up from the couch, adjusted myself in my trousers, and knelt down next to the sleeping girl. “Amy?” I said. “Amy?” I touched her arm. My fingers thrilled to feel her warm, soft skin. “Amy? Let's get you to bed.”
Amy stirred and opened her eyes. “Oh, I'm sorry. I guess I dozed off. It's been a tiring few days.”
“I'm sure. You have every right to be tired. We can talk more tomorrow,” I said. “But it's time we both got to bed.” I held out my hand to help her to her feet.
Amy stood up and stretched, making her t-shirt slide up her thighs to a dangerous level, and accentuating her breasts. “Okay, see you in the morning,” she yawned, turning toward the steps. As I followed her upstairs, I could see the bottom curve of her lovely ass, the thin bit of fabric of her thong barely concealing the treasures it hid.
Just before she went in her room, she turned toward me. “Matt? Thank you. If we get the tests and you're my dad, I think I'll be happy. If you're not, I'd still like to be your friend.” She came to me and hugged me. “You're a good man. No wonder Mom liked you,” she said, and then she kissed me on the cheek. “Good night.”
It took me a long time to fall asleep. The young woman across the hall could be the daughter I never knew I had. I was trying to sort out my feelings for her. Could I love her like a father loves his daughter? I wasn't sure what that meant, but if she was mine, I vowed to do everything I could to make her know she still had family, even though her mother was gone.
But what if her dad was one of my high school buddies? That would make my attraction toward her at least marginally acceptable. She was as beautiful and desirable as her mother had been. I finally fell asleep, and dreamed of what I would like to do with her.
I awoke the next morning to the feel of Amy's soft hand on my arm. “Good morning, sleepyhead,” she said.
That face! So much like her mother, so beautiful, with her mother's warm, inviting smile. It took me a moment to register that Amy was looking at the tent in my covers where they covered my morning wood. The fact that she was leaning over me, still wearing that t-shirt, allowing me to see a good portion of her breasts, didn't help me to go soft.
“Good morning, Amy,” I croaked, rolling on my side to try to hide my erection. “What time is it?”
“Time for you to get out of bed and make coffee. Breakfast can be ready in ten minutes. So, up and at 'em!” she smiled.
“I'll be down in fifteen,” I replied. “I want to get a shower and get dressed first.”
“I really need some coffee. Come down and start it, and then take your shower,” Amy said. “I won't make the eggs until I hear the water shut off.”
“You go ahead. I'll be down in a minute.”
“No, I'm afraid you'll go back to sleep. Here's your robe. Let's go,” Amy said, grabbing for my covers.
“Amy! Wait! I'm just in my boxers,” I protested.
“And I'm just in a t-shirt and panties,” she observed. “There's nothing to be embarrassed about.”
I felt my face growing red. “I really think you should leave the room.”
Amy looked confused for a second, and then giggled. “I'm not going anywhere until you're out of bed. Look, I know you have a hard-on. That often happens to guys in the morning, doesn't it? Don't be upset. It doesn't look like you have anything to be ashamed about. I'll turn around.”
The sight of this beautiful young girl in her skimpy clothing made it impossible for me to look like a gentleman, but I could tell she was serious about not giving me any privacy. I sat up, grabbed the robe, did what I could to hide my erection, and got to my feet.
“Decent?” Amy giggled, turning to face me.
“Amy, I'm sorry,...” I began.
“For what? If I'm your daughter, it's still OK. Some of my girlfriends have told me how they've caught their Dads with morning boners, so it's no big deal. If I'm not your daughter, I'll take it as a compliment. Now, how about making us some coffee?”
I followed her down to the kitchen. I thought I had the situation under control, my erection fading, until Amy bent over to get a frying pan from the bottom cupboard, showing me her sweet ass again in that tiny thong. I quickly finished making the coffee and fled to the shower. I came with only a few strokes, need overcoming the shame I felt about lusting over a girl who could be my own flesh and blood.
Relieved, clean, and properly dressed, I returned to the kitchen just as Amy was filling two plates with large piles of scrambled eggs. The heady aromas of rich coffee and freshly cooked sausage filled the air.
As we ate, we discussed again what we would do when our letters came from the lawyer. I think I managed to keep her from seeing me checking out her nipples in that thin t-shirt.
“What time does the mail come?” Amy asked.
“Usually around noon,” I said, taking my dishes to the sink. “More coffee?”
“Please,” she answered. “I guess I'll go home after the mail comes and we make that phone call.”
“About a four-hour drive west,” Amy said. “I had a good night's sleep, so I'll be OK.”
“If the attorney's letter doesn't come, will you stay until tomorrow?” I asked.
“Of course,” I replied. “I probably should go into work tomorrow morning, but I can be home in time for the mail.”
“OK, I'll drive back then and we'll meet at the lawyer's office on Monday,” Amy said.
“Why not stay? That is, if you can stand being around your old man all weekend.”
“You mean if I want to be around a nice-looking guy who's old enough to be my father?” Amy teased. “Sure, I'd love that. Now that Mom's gone, I'd like to reconnect with her old friends. But I don't have much clothing with me.”
“I'll take you shopping this morning,” I offered.
“A guy who wants to go shopping with a woman? I see why Mom said you're a great guy,” Amy laughed.
“I'll even treat, if you can keep the damage sensible,” I said.
“Apparently I'm the poor little rich girl here, so I can handle it, thanks.” Then Amy came up to me and put her arms around me. “I'm glad I've met you, father or not.”
I could feel her breasts against my chest. Snippets of my dreams the night before began to play inside my head. I knew I could get in real trouble here.
“Go get dressed,” I said. “There's a little group of shops a couple of miles from here. They should have most of what you need. We'll come back here for lunch and to check the mail, and then I'll take you to the mall if you need other stuff.”
“Sounds like fun,” Amy said. “Give me half an hour to shower and get ready.”
I found myself staring at her cute little ass again as she left the kitchen.
I was done with the dishes and was on the phone with my partner when she came downstairs. She was wearing a short skirt and a tank top. Except for the longer hair, she looked just like Debbie. Just as pretty, fresh, and irresistibly sexy.
“How do I look?” Amy said, smiling, turning slowly so I could admire her from all sides. “I wanted to look nice to go out in public with a gentleman. Or for the first time with my father.”
“You're beautiful, Amy. Either way, I'll be proud to be seen with you.”
As we drove to the shops, we talked more about the paternity test. “I'm still not sure if I want to know if you're my Dad,” Amy said. “I'm a grown-up now, legally, so it's not like I need to have a father to take care of me. I should be able to do that myself.”
“True, but it never hurts to have someone you can call family,” I said.
“It never hurts to have a new friend, either,” Amy replied. “Can we wait to make a decision?”
The first place we went specialized in casual wear like jeans and tops. Amy picked several items there, along with a pair of comfortable shoes. We then went to another shop, where she found a nice outfit to wear to the attorney's office and a pair of sensible but dressy shoes. The last stop was a lingerie store. As I followed her in the door, she said, “Are you OK being in here?”
“Sure,” I said, “but if you don't want me here,...”
“No, stay. Maybe my Daddy would like to help his little girl choose some pretty things.”
I gulped and followed her into the shop. Amy laughed when she saw that the clerk had heard her.
Thankfully, she didn't insist on modeling her choices for me like she had in the other stores. Some of the things she picked out had more surface area in the price tags than the garments, and the clerk was giving me some inquisitive looks.
We got sandwiches at a deli near my house, and went home to eat and check the mail. There was the usual junk mail, but no letter from an attorney.
“Let's call anyway,” Amy said.
I put the DVD back in the player, and skipped ahead until I found the lawyer's phone number. A woman answered the phone, and I told her who I was and what I wanted. She transferred me to Debbie's attorney's office, and I told his secretary the same thing.
“Mr. Chambers, I'm aware of certain documents involving a gentleman with your name and a party named Amy Harrison, but until you can give me your passwords, I'm not at liberty to discuss this further,” she said. “Forgive me if you think I'm rude, but the passwords should be in the hands of those involved by tomorrow at the latest. Please call back then.”
“Well, I guess we'll just have to wait until tomorrow,” I said to Amy after I hung up.
We spent the afternoon talking. We watched Debbie's video two more times, and Amy studied my old yearbook for pictures of me, Ron and Sam.
“Look at these pictures. Come here, sit next to me.”
I sat on the sofa next to her to look at the book she had resting on her thigh.
“I don't look like any of you guys,” Amy said, squeezing close to me.
“No, you don't. Lucky for you!” I chuckled.
“Oh, come on, now. You were all kind of cute, and you still look good as a mature man,” Amy said.
“You make me sound so old!” I exclaimed.
“Well, I know you're not even forty, but you're my mother's age. You're mature. You're a man who knows what the world's about, not some stupid hormonal kid. And yes, I think you're kind of hot,” she giggled.
“Is that what teenage girls tell their fathers these days?” I asked.
“Assuming you are my father. Yeah, I don't see anything wrong with it. You're a good looking guy. And Mom was right. You are a nice guy. I enjoy being with you. I might even ask you out if you aren't my dad,” Amy said.
Whoa. This just made things a lot more complicated. I already had admitted to myself that I was physically attracted to Amy, but I had thought I was going to be able to ignore that if she turned out to be the result of some amazing nights I had with her mother.
I knew that a father wasn't supposed to notice his daughter's choice of lingerie, or the curve of her hip, or the feel of her skin.
He shouldn't be waiting for the next time she bends over, so he can almost see her asshole under her thong.
He must not find himself wondering how responsive her nipples are. Or how she tastes. Or how tight she might be.
I can't be fantasizing about how beautiful her voice will sound when she cums on my cock.
“Matt? Earth to Matt!” Amy said.
I blinked and focused on her face. I must have had a pretty guilty expression on mine.
“Where did you go?” Amy asked. She looked deep into my eyes, a question in hers, and then smiled. Her hand touched my thigh and she looked down.
“Oh,” she said. “It's not morning, so I guess this is a compliment.”
“Amy,...” I began.
“It's OK. I don't mind. There's a two out of three chance that we're not related. I'm not a prude. I meant it when I said I thought you were hot.”
“I just don't know how to feel about all this,” I said.
“Well, either way,” Amy whispered, “I would like a kiss.”
It started out pretty innocently. I kissed her lips gently, held them there for a moment as she kissed me back, and then moved away so I could see her eyes. We said nothing. I pulled her to me and kissed her again. This was still a kiss I could have claimed was chaste, if it hadn't lasted so long. I held her face in one hand and stroked her hair with the other. “Amy, we ...” I began.
“Not now,” Amy breathed hushing me with her lips on mine. “Later.” As she pressed her mouth to mine, I thought I heard her moan softly.
We both must have sensed we were nearing the point of no return. Amy finally broke the kiss and looked at me. “I think we forgot about the one in three chance that I am your daughter,” she said.
“I think we did,” I replied.
“Let's make dinner,” she said, standing up. “I need to think.”
I knew I did too. I had to convince myself there was a good reason why I shouldn't just carry this girl upstairs and fuck the hell out of her.
We calmed down in the kitchen as we foraged for dinner. It was obvious it was time for a trip to the supermarket, so after we did the dishes, we went to the store. When we had put the groceries away, we sat down to watch TV.
The simple activities of the evening were what I felt could be normal between a single father and his young adult daughter. We both seemed to be having a good time. I could go for several seconds at a time without thinking about Amy in a sexual way.
When the sit-com we were watching was over, Amy asked, “Could I borrow a scissors? I need to take the tags off the stuff I bought today.”
“There should be two pairs in the drawer next to the fridge. Bring them both and then go get your bags. I'll help you if you bring everything in here,” I said.
In a few minutes, we had all the outer garments free of tags and folded on the coffee table. Amy was carefully removing the tags from a nearly transparent bra and thong set.
“You know,” I said, “I enjoyed today.”
“So did I. I can't believe you went shopping with me,” Amy said. “That was fun.”
“I liked having you model your purchases for me.”
“I wanted your opinion. Besides, you make me feel special,” she said.
“You didn't model anything for me in that last store.”
“I doubt the clerk would have let me. She heard me say that about me being your little girl.”
“Would you model those things for me now?”
“Should I?” Amy asked, looking just a little worried.
She carried her lingerie upstairs, and in a few minutes returned, wearing my robe. She opened it to reveal a pale yellow lacy bra and boy-short panty set.
“Take the robe off.”
It fell to the floor. She stepped away from it, and turned slowly so I could admire her.
“Lovely,” I breathed. “Now try on the red things.”
In moments she returned. The garments were simple. There was not much to them except for unlined blood-red satin and a bit of matching lace. Her nipples were obviously erect, and the thong lightly divided her sex, barely covering it. Without a word, she moved to stand directly in front of me, slowly moving from one alluring pose to the next. Finally she stopped and looked at the bulge straining in my pants.
I said, “You know I have to make love to you, don't you Amy?”
“Yes,” she said in a quiet voice.
“Then, take those things off and come here.”
She reached behind her back and unfastened her bra, letting it drop to the floor. Her breasts were even more perfect than her mother's had been. They were beautiful, the kind that may never sag, large enough to look amazing on her slender frame.
She fiddled with the hip strings of her thong. “I'm a little scared,” she said.
“My God, child, are you a virgin?” I asked.
“No, no, I'm Debbie Harrison's daughter, remember? I learned a lot from my mother. We were pretty open with each other. That's not it at all.”
“What is it then?” I wondered. “I'll be as gentle as you need me to be. Just because I don't have a woman right now doesn't mean I don't know how to treat a woman. There's nothing to be scared of.”
“I'm scared of what I'm feeling,” she said as she pulled her thong down. It clung for an instant to her bare, moist lips before floating to the floor.
“I don't know what I'm feeling either,” I said as I stood and pulled her naked body against me. Our tongues met as I kneaded her bare buttocks.
Reluctantly breaking the kiss, I led Amy upstairs to my room. As she lay on my bed and watched, I undressed. My erection was dripping when I pulled my shorts off and joined her. Amy's delicate hand closed gently around my cock, her thumb toward my belly and her fingertips dancing on the underside of my shaft, exactly the way her mother had so long ago.
“Are you going to fuck me now?” Amy asked.
“No? Oh, I thought ….” Amy never finished her sentence, because my mouth found hers. Our tongues explored each other as I caressed the buttery smooth skin of her side.
“I'm going to make love to you now,” I said, my hand gliding slowly to her breast. The hard nipple lodged between my thumb and forefinger, and I stroked and fondled it reverently.
Amy let out a little gasp the first time I kissed her throat. When I slid my hand down to cup her sex and licked her nipple, she moaned. She spread her legs slightly as I stroked her slick lips, easing my finger between them. When my finger, wet with her juices, touched her clit, she jolted with the sensation.
“I'm really sensitive,” she whispered.
“Good, baby. I want to make you cum,” I said. My tongue trailed down over her firm, flat belly, pausing for a moment to tease her navel, and then moving closer to the sweet aromatic moisture I was compelled to taste. Her clean-shaven mound was very warm on my mouth, and she was already moving her hips slightly.
“Lick me,” Amy whimpered.
Positioning myself between her legs, I tasted the soft, tender skin of her upper thighs, kissing, licking, touching her with my teeth, teasing her, making her think I might bite. My thumb was stroking slowly from her opening to her clit, a light touch, never quite penetrating, never pressing too hard on the sensitive bundle of nerves at the top. I waited until she was panting for air and moving her hips rhythmically up and down before I allowed my curled tongue to enter her.
“Oh, oh, oh, oh Daddy, oh my God, you're going to make me cum!” she moaned.
I said nothing. Two fingers went carefully into her entrance while my lips grabbed her clit. Probing slowly but deep inside her, I sucked her erect button into my mouth, released it, licked it thoroughly, and then grabbed it again. I curled my fingers and explored her depths. When I found the soft ridged patch inside her, I pushed and prodded it with my fingertips and renewed my efforts on her nub.
A moan began deep in Amy's gut, rising in pitch and volume as her legs began to spasm against my ears. The sound changed to a keening cry as she raised her hips high off the bed, lifting my upper body with them. I drank.
When she collapsed, I cleaned her with my tongue, savoring a flavor unlike anyone else I had ever been with. Except for Debbie. I've never forgotten how her mother tasted. Every woman I've been with since has compared unfavorably to the superb aroma and flavor of Debbie Harrison. Until now.
“Mattie, Mattie, please, please stop,” she moaned, grabbing my head and raising it so she could look in my eyes.
“I need you inside me.”
I moved up in the bed, kissing my way back to her sweet mouth. Her hand grasped my manhood and aimed it at her steaming pussy. There was no more hesitation, no restraint. As soon as we felt the head of my cock spread her swollen lips, I began to ease inside. She locked her legs around my hips and pulled me in further, until I was buried completely in her hot, tight depths.
“I've never been with a man before,” Amy whispered between kisses. “A few boys, yes, but never a man. You feel so big inside me. So good.” He legs gripped my torso firmly, holding me still inside her.
I wanted to move, but she held me tight as her breathing became louder. Almost imperceptible at first, I felt the walls of her tight vagina clamp rhythmically around my shaft.
“Hold still!” she gasped. “Oh God, I'm gonna cum!”
The pulsating got stronger, and so did her breathing. Her pussy got wetter, the grip of her arms and legs on my torso, firmer. “Daddy, I'm cumming. Oh God.”
After a few moments, she relaxed a bit. “I told you I was sensitive,” she sighed. She kissed me. Then she pushed on my chest a little to raise me so we could look at each other. “Matt, this is so wrong.”
“I know,” I said. “I'm sorry, Amy, I don't know what came over me. We should stop.”
“No, we shouldn't. Please, make me cum again. I want to be with a man tonight,” she said.
At first, when I pulled back so just the head of my cock was still gripped by her wet velvet vise, I wanted to ram back inside her. The only woman who had ever inspired such lust in me was this girl's own mother. But then I remembered how wonderful it had been the first time with Debbie. We had taken it slow, even at that age knowing that prolonging our pleasure could be rewarding. I decided to find out if her daughter had inherited that appreciation from her. Or from me.
It was a challenge to control myself. Each time I bottomed out in her, Amy would kiss me passionately, her tongue sucking mine, mimicking what the muscles of her pussy were doing to my cock. Each time I pulled back, we would break our kiss to breathe.
“I'm cumming again,” she hissed.
I pushed back inside her and held it as deep as I could. Amy's cunt muscles were sucking my cock with almost painful force. I knew I would have scratches on my back in the morning.
“Will you cum inside me?” she panted.
“God, yes!” she said, as she kissed me furiously.
“I'm not ready yet,” I whispered, breaking the kiss and pulling out of her. I got to my knees.
“Mattie? What are you doing?”
“Some more of this,” I replied, grasping her by her hips and lowering my mouth toward her wet, swollen pussy.
Two orgasms later, Amy pushed me away. “Fuck me now,” she gasped. “I need you to fuck me now. Please, Matt, I want your cock inside me.”
This time, we weren't as slow. It was still love-making, but Amy would have none of the careful, sensuous movements we enjoyed before. Her pelvis moved forcefully to meet my thrusts. When I came, Amy's moans joined my grunts in a chorus of animal passion.
I rolled us over, so she was lying on top of me. I could feel our juices slipping over my softening shaft as it slid out of her. We were too tired to care. We held each other for a while, kissing gently, caressing, our limbs intertwined, until I felt her sleeping breath on my chest.
Light was coming through the curtains when I awoke. Amy's head was under the covers, her knees on the pillow next to me, her luscious ass in the air.
“Amy, what are you doing?”
“Getting ready to show you my appreciation for your morning compliment. Like this.” Amy's tongue slid from my ballsack to the head of my cock. “So that's what we taste like,” she said. “Not bad.” She licked me again. “Not bad at all.” She twirled her tongue around the head of my cock. “Now I want you to just lie there. Don't move. I've never done this before, but I want to with you.” She engulfed me.
Tongue. Lips. Hands. Amy took me as far into her mouth as she could, over and over. Her tongue was never still, bathing my crown when she popped me out of her mouth, and working down my length when she pulled me in.
“I'm going to cum soon,” I said through clenched teeth.
She sucked me harder, jacked me more firmly. I could smell her juices running out of her. Just before I released the first long rope of my cum against her tonsils, I found her entrance with my finger and plunged it inside. She writhed as she struggled to swallow.
After she had licked me clean, she threw the covers back and looked at me. I was sucking her taste from my fingers.
“Good morning,” I said.
“Good morning.” She moved up to me and lay on my chest to kiss me.
“I need coffee,” she eventually said.
Like the previous morning, I started the coffee and got showered and dressed while she cooked. Breakfast was ready when I got downstairs. Amy hadn't said much since we got out of bed, and neither had I. We had crossed a very large line. Our relationship, whatever it was going to be, would never be the same.
“Do you have to go to work this morning?” she asked.
“Yes, I think I should. I have a couple of things I need to do, but I'll be home by the time the mail comes.” I looked at my watch. “I have to go.”
“I'll hang out here,” Amy said. “I can find things to do, laundry and so on. Should I have lunch ready at noon?”
“That would be great.” I kissed her on the cheek and basically fled out the door.
I smoothed things over with my partner by explaining some, but certainly not all, of what had happened. I made some phone calls, sent a few emails, and reviewed a new contract. My heart wasn't in it. I had to go home and talk with Amy.
When I walked in the front door, she was sitting on the couch. Her long blonde hair was held back in a clip, revealing her lithe, young body, clad only in a filmy pink babydoll set.
“I went shopping. I thought you'd like this,” she said.
“Baby, we need to talk.”
“I know. Oh, the mail came. I didn't open anything, but there are two identical envelopes addressed to
each of us,” she said. “I wanted to wait for you.”
“I want to talk about what we did,” I said.
“Stop, Matt,” Amy said, her face serious. “I loved every minute of it, and I want to do it again.” She stood, and removed her pink negligee, tossing it on the sofa. Amy pressed the length of her lovely, nude body against me. We kissed for a while, and then she knelt in front of me. She unfastened my belt.
“Honey, I'm not sure I want the paternity test,” I said.
“What test, Daddy?”
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