You knew exactly what you were doing, didn’t you? You knew what you wanted and you knew from the beginning how it was going to be. I saw the look, I felt your eyes, even as you smiled with beguiling wit and alluring chivalry. You welcomed me back home after my second year at college and marveled at how I had grown, how much of a woman I had become, how mature, how easily mistaken for some cosmopolitan runway model or some professional volleyball player, with my long blond hair and clear blue eyes. You told me how much you missed me. You told me how amazed you were at how I had truly filled out and fully blossomed as a sophisticated college student on my way to possible med school.
I had asked where mom was, but you said she was home getting the place ready for my arrival. Mom had gotten my bedroom ready and had invited just a few friends to visit on my homecoming. I was excited to see family and friends and I longed for the sweet smell of Mom’s cooking. And you were so right.
Despite my jetlag from my four hour flight, I was re-energized to visit with long lost friends and cousins. My face even hurt from smiling so often, being the homecoming heroine just back for a week-long visit from the big university out east. “Carly, come here” and “Carly look at this!” and “Isn’t my Carly so pretty?” was what I heard all night long.
I smiled and danced and ate my fill and I noticed your eyes. Always your eyes were on me, watching, enjoying, drinking in the good nature of it all. I smiled back at you, often, feeling loved and welcomed. Mom too was a gracious hostess, showing me off as her prize pony and making sure I sat and spoke to Aunt Sara or Uncle Mike or Nana Beth. Mom carted me around like I was her beauty pageant doll and she poked and preened at me, also commenting on how much I had grown into a beautiful young lady. I did take small note of her distance from my father throughout the night. They seemed polite, but they were certainly distant.
In time, the festivities came to an end, nearly midnight and all the drunk relatives and drunker friends waving off and heading to their homes. Every one of them made me swear to spend a day or two to hang out or go do this or go see this movie or go shopping. I promised all of them because I could scarcely deny their wishes. I had been gone for almost two years now.
Mom had retired after cleaning up the kitchen, a bit tipsy herself, but happy and fulfilled. She kissed me goodnight and retreated to the master bedroom. My room, as it turned out, looked exactly as I had left it. Posters of the Backstreet Boys and Brittney Spears still lined the walls. Pink frills and lace and stuffed animals adorned every corner and floor space. It made me smile to look upon old friends and the comfort of home. Always home. Warm and welcoming and relaxing. None of the pressures of exams and readings and deadlines and projects. Home. Where I was welcomed with open arms with love and admiration. I never had to prove myself. I was simply loved.
About an hour later, sitting up in bed and reading the latest text on psychotherapy, I barely heard the soft knock on my door. “Come in,” I said quietly. “It’s open.”
And then you popped your head in, almost sheepishly, slightly red-faced. Had you had too much to drink also? You smiled and cleared your throat, asked if I was feeling jet-lagged or jittery from the flight. Asked if I had too much caffeine and couldn’t sleep. Asked if I was too wired from the party.
I smiled warmly and nodded. “Yes, I’m still in a different time zone, remember?”
When I invited you in, you were almost too shy, like a little schoolboy trying to ask out his first girlfriend on a date. You came in and I noticed you closed the door behind you. You pulled my desk chair and sat near me. “What’re you reading, hon?” I could see you rubbing your hands together, perhaps drying them off, perhaps a bit nervous. About what? I wondered.
I shrugged. “Just the latest textbook for school. I know I have a week off, but I still have a lot of reading to do during this break.” Then I saw the look in your eyes, the sadness, the longing. You seemed to have a lot on your mind. You seemed as if you had something to tell me. “What is it, dad? What’s wrong? I noticed you seemed distant and distracted all night.”
You shrugged and looked down at your hands, now folded over your lap. You opened your mouth to speak, but no words came out. Then you shrugged again. Your eyes slowly met mine and I could see pools of tears emerging, threatening to burst at a moment’s notice. “It’s…well…your mom. It’s just that…well…we haven’t…oh Carly, I don’t know how to say this to you…”
Your words trailed off and I was suddenly pained to see you so sad. I reached out my hand and placed it on yours. “What is it, dad? You can tell me. I did notice the two of you seemed so distant, so apart tonight. I never really saw you two talking or near each other at all. What’s wrong?” And then, you said it. Looking down at your hands, now gently covered by my own, through tear-filled eyes, you recounted how you knew that mom was cheating. Mom had been with other men and you knew about it. You discovered her infidelities, but had yet to confront her on them. You spoke about how you felt that mom was cheating on you because she thought you weren’t man enough or strong enough to keep her satisfied or loved or whatever it was that was missing in your marriage. You were so lost and confused and scared and…lonely.
I sat for a very long time listening to your story. My heart ached and my heart broke, for you and for mom. For the both of you. “If you think she doesn’t value you or your relationship, why haven’t you discussed this? Why not confront her with the truth? Why not fight for her?”
“Carly, I’ve tried,” you said. “I’ve tried to hint at what I suspected, but she seems to just laugh it all off. She thinks it makes me even weaker to express my feelings and emotions to her. She laughs at me, like I’m some big dope—a clown for her amusement.”
I couldn’t believe your words, yet here you were now, crying your eyes out. Mom was cheating on my dad. Mom and dad loved each other, right? They were supposed to be together forever. That’s how the story ends. That’s what I thought; that’s what I wanted. My brain was clipping away at a mile a minute, thinking of a way to resolve this complex problem. And didn’t I deal with this nearly every day? Couples therapy. Psychology. This was my forte. I took in a long, deep breath and let out a sigh. Looking at you seriously and determinedly, I said, “Then have you tried to make her jealous? Have you tried to flirt with other women to see if she would react differently?”
You shrugged, confused, disturbed. “Be with other women? I couldn’t ever imagine that. Your mom’s the only one I love and want to be with.”
“But she doesn’t value you like you do her. She doesn’t see you as a handsome, sexual being. She doesn’t value who you are and she takes you for granted.”
You chewed on what I said for a very long time as your eyes blinked back the tears and you seemed to sit up a little. I could see the wheels turning in your head and at last, you said, “But…if I do…who would…who would go along with the charade?”
I smiled, feeling better that I had convinced you of how to approach this dilemma. And then I named off a few women in the neighborhood, all of which I knew would take my father in if given the chance. And through them all, you found fault. You found a way to negate my suggestions. I offered several women at work who I also knew admired my father. And still you shook your head and refused. “They would not be able to keep a secret and that would be dangerous for me at work,” you reasoned.
All too true, I realized. There was no way to keep his reputation intact if he attempted an affair at work.
I sighed again, not knowing where to go from here. “It’s pointless,” you said hopelessly. “Mom wins and I…well…I lose her to other men. No one you mentioned would work out because someone would find out and more people would get hurt. I couldn’t trust them to keep things quiet and…well…no trust, no love. Mom is the only one I can trust—at least, I thought….” You buried your face in your hands and my heart reached out to you.
My hands reached out to you, to hold you, to stop your shaking and heaving. We held each other close as you wept quietly on my shoulder. I stroked your hair and wiped your eyes as you slowly finished crying. And, tear-stained face and lips parted, I looked deeply into your eyes as you did mine. “Maybe…” I whispered. “Maybe you shouldn’t…go elsewhere for love. Maybe…”
Your eyes searched mine as your brain raced through the possibilities of what I was saying, what I was suggesting. Actually have an affair, not with a stranger or a friend or a coworker. An affair with someone closer. Closer to home. Someone in your own backyard. Someone…in your own…daughter’s bedroom!
You licked your lips and I could hear your ragged breath, your eyes confused, yet, slowly coming to realization. “But…”
I nodded slowly, resigned to what I was about to say, what I had to say. “Dad, I love you and I love mom and I don’t want to lose both of you. I don’t want you to split up. If this is the only way to get her jealous and to get her to value you as she should, then I am happy to help you both. I want to see you both survive and get through this.”
“Dad, it’s okay. You’re not forcing me. I’m not under aged. I’m doing this willingly.”
You shook your head, wordless, as you held my hand and helped me out of my bed. We stood, staring into each other’s eyes, searching, looking for the sanity out of this situation. I watched as you swallowed once, taking in my body from head to toe, noticing my sheer pink nightgown as you beheld me as a man beholds a goddess. So reverent, so admiring. I blushed at your attention and soon we were floating towards each other in a loving embrace. I don’t know, to this day, whether it was the alcohol. I don’t know if it was preconceived, but I do know that your desire for me was shockingly evident as your hardness poked into my belly as you held me close.
“Dad, we…need each other. We have to do this to save your marriage. We have to…” And then you were crushing me with your lips, pressing hard and passionately. I could smell the alcohol in your breath as your tongue snaked into my mouth with forceful abandon. And your hands were all over my body, kneading my back with the ardor of a lover. You moaned allowed as I tried to press you away.
It dawned on me that your desire was not necessarily what I had intended, nor invited. It dawned on me then that your lust had been given free reign with my admission to start an ‘affair’. But this is not what I meant. This is not what I meant at all. “No…Dad…” I said brokenly, trying to push you off of me as your kisses continued on my face and neck. “I…we…”
You had worked one strap of my nightie off and had revealed one breast to the cold night. As your hungry lips devoured my flesh, I gasped out and held your head, still trying to push you off. “Dad…wait…”
And then you seemed to come up for air, your eyes wild, searching mine. You looked wild, like a man possessed by animal lust. Your eyes searched mine for an answer.
I shook my head. “Dad…I meant we should…” We should what? I thought frantically. What had I suggested earlier? Did I say we should…consummate our love affair with actual…sex? Did I suggest we go through with the physical aspect of our alleged affair? I only wanted my mom to find out that Dad was cheating on her. Maybe she would become jealous. Maybe she would see your true value. Maybe she would take you back. But this? Not this. Not sex. Not with my own father! And still, your eyes looked into mine with longing and lust and desire. You wanted me. You wanted me as no father should want their own daughter. You wanted me as a real lover. Sex! Sinful sex. Taboo. Incest. I shook my head slowly and I could see your eyes looking dejected. You had been rejected yet again! You had been turned away and betrayed by yet another woman you loved and trusted! Again.
And I could see the look of utter sadness and despair. I could see that I had broken your heart, your dreams, your hopes. I was dumbfounded, lost between right and wrong. How could we? How could we do this? Incest!
“But…Dad…we…” Now it was my turn to cry, to shed tears for the tragedy of it all. Now it was my turn to cry and be held by someone strong. Someone stronger than me. My dad. The one who had protected me all my life. And here we were, sad, tragic, in despair.
“Sshhh…honey, it’s all right,” you whispered into my hair. “Everything will be all right. We were…drunk..too much to drink. It was the wine that made us…well…lose control.” You held me close and comforted me. You had come into my bedroom seeking answers, seeking comfort, and now it was I who needed it.
Needed it. Your hardness did not subside. Your lust did not abate, despite my denial of you. Your desire for me did not diminish as you held me close and stroked my hair and face, whispering soft words of encouragement, apology, and sorrow. We were doomed.
And as I pulled back to look once more into your eyes and opened my mouth to speak, you touched my lips with yours tenderly this time. I did return the kiss, I know. I did return the love and anguish to you, joining you in your cursed fate.
Our kiss lingered for an eternity and I felt your hands roaming my back once more, kneading my tired muscles, massaging the ache out of me. “Oh baby,” you whispered harshly. “God…I need you…” My eyes were sad and slowly my head shook with confusion. “But…we…can’t…” I only thought to write letters, discovered emails, anything that would get mom jealous. I only meant to ‘play’ at an affair. Not this! Not for real. Not with you, my own flesh and blood. Born of your loins. A product of your love with mom.
“Please, baby…we…we both need this. I can feel your love for me. I won’t hurt you. This is for us, for me, to save my marriage. This is right.” You spoke hypnotically and slowly nudged me backwards until the backs of my knees touched the edge of my bed. And then I was sitting and you were urging me to lay down. My head shook and I protested, but you were insistent.
You tore your shirt off and had your pants off in a moment’s breath and as I pressed my hands to your chest, you moved over me, kissing my neck and face, and chest. Again, you lifted my nightie, again freeing my breasts to the night air. I lay my head back as your watery mouth devoured first one and then the other and I groaned with need. But still I knew this was wrong. “Daddy…we…this is wrong…this is…incest.”
“Ssshhh, baby…we need this. We both need this. I need you. You were right. I need a lover to make her jealous. I can’t trust anyone else. Only you. Only you.”
I could hear the tearing of my panties as you tossed them onto my bedroom floor and I was powerless now to stop your onslaught, powerless to deny your lust, your need. “But…we…what about mom?”
“She won’t hear us, Carly. She’s asleep. Drunk. She won’t ever know. Oh God, I want you so much. You’re so beautiful.” Your words were magical to me. I relished at your admiration and love. I watched as you devoured my body with your eyes and knew that I loved you deeply.
You guided your throbbing cock to my now wet orifice and as the head slowly penetrated me, I knew it was the point of no return. Your eyes stared down at me as I looked up at you with a mixture of sadness, fear, love…and…lust. I too longed to be fulfilled. To be filled. I too needed this from long absent days away. I too missed your touch, your love, your desire. And then, you were all the way home, filling me like no other man has ever done. My back arched and my head tilted back. My eyes rolled back into my head as I felt you completely buried within me! Your fatherly cock inside of my pussy. Taboo. Shocking. Forbidden. Delicious.
You held within me, looking down at me, seeing the amazement in your eyes. You were finally and fully inside and you beheld me with such reverence and longing. And then you said it. You said the words I knew I would dread. You said it loudly for both of us to hear, to know. “Oh Carly…oh my God…when I saw you at the airport today, I knew. I knew. You were so beautiful and sexy and…I knew I had to have you. I knew I had to fuck you.”
My brows furrowed in drunken confusion. If you had known…then…?
But my thoughts of preconceived notions and forbidden desires were simply wiped away by your motions. You thrust into me again and again as slowly, my body betrayed me. My legs splayed out wider to allow your entry. Then my knees curled up and my legs crossed around you to urge you further. You began to fuck me in earnest and I returned your thrusts with wanton lust. You were wonderful, the perfect man, the perfect lover. You took your time, yet you were an animal. You gyrated your hips and hit every secret spot inside of me, causing me to clench and buck with every sinful thrust of your hips.
And when you began to speed up, when your thrusts became violent and insistent, I knew you were close to completing this forbidden act of fatherly love. I knew that you were close to the edge of madness and insanity. And I was so close to that edge with you. And then reason dawned in, albeit late and ineffectual. We had no protection! We had no means to deny a possible…pregnancy!
“Daddy! Wait,” I panted. “Stop…oh God…we…don’t have any protection…pull out. Oh God, pull out. I’m not on the pill and you’re not…wearing anything!”
“Oh God, baby! I’m so close! I have to cum!” you groaned, forcing my legs apart and continuing your savage invasion. Your thrusts seemed to go in faster and stronger.
“Oh God, no! I could get…pregnant! Please…please…pull out!”
And then you were roaring now, groaning out all of your lust and love for me as you emptied your molten seed inside of my fertile womb. You, the father, shooting your liquid fire, your cum, deep inside your own daughter’s pussy. That which created me is recreating itself inside of me, scorching my insides with its demon seed. I bucked and thrashed, muffling my own cries of passionate release even as I knew the evil of our deed. It could not be. It should not be. Yet the fires of hell could not deny the heavenly pleasure I was receiving.
We were panting now, sweating from our forbidden passion, and you slumped over me. “Oh God, baby..oh Carly,” you whispered into my hair. You kissed my tear-soaked face tenderly now, a caring and loving father once more.
“Oh Daddy…” I whispered. Thefre were truly no more words to say. We had done it. We had consummated our love and lust. What I had thought would be a simple play—an act—to get my mother to some sort of jealous realization, had twisted and become our own incestuous act of lust and desire. We were damned. We were lost.
You kissed me tenderly once more and got up, my drenched pussy releasing your half-hardened cock now. I could feel a delicious ache and longing for your monster beast and it sickened me. But I could not deny my own desires. “What do we…?” I asked weakly.
“Sshh,” you said, putting fingers to my swollen lips. “We can talk in the morning. I have to get back in case mom wakes up. We can talk in the morning.” Slowly, silently, you retreated out of my bedroom as I pulled the covers over me. Before I drifted into troubled sleep, I kept wondering what the next few days would bring. Is this what psychotherapists do? Is this how they cure their patients? Perhaps I would need my own therapist before this week comes to an end…