Permanent Breakthrough

Nate laughed at her melodramatic assertion that he couldn’t leave.

“It’s not funny, Nate. We’re not playing dating nor sex nor any other kinds of games now.” She sat up and wrapped her arms around him, gently yet possessively. “Everything I’m about to tell you is deadly serious. As in: I will kill myself if you do me wrong.”

His smile vanished as he figured out that she wasn’t joking nor play-acting.

“You’ve left me emotionally defenseless, at least in terms of you. Therefore, some things are different between us, effective immediately. First, you’re my boyfriend, and I’m your girlfriend, and we’re seeing each other exclusively.”

“What about the variety you’ve always insisted upon?”

“You’ve managed to change that, by forcing your way in. So suck it up and deal with it.” Her words were harsh, yet she presented them in a soothing, soft tone, with docile, almost subservient nuzzly cuddling and caressing of his hair and face, punctuated with a tender, loving kiss he’d not known her capable of delivering. “And you’d better be ready to live with me full-time—be with me whenever we’re not at work—’cause that’s what’s happening.”

“Not with violence, it isn’t.”

She took his hands in hers, clasping them gently and looking into his eyes as she said, “Nate… the point of my shoving you out the door and poking at you and pushing you away and hitting you was to get you to back off, so you wouldn’t break through my defenses. Well guess what?: you did it anyway. There’s no more need for me to hit you, because you’re inside now. Inside my universe—my own personal heaven and hell. I tried to keep you out—for the best for both of us. But no. You wouldn’t stop… and you seduced me into letting you into my heart and soul.”

“Seduced you?”

“You know you did. But let’s not debate it. You’ve wanted so badly to learn about me that now you’ve crashed in and changed our lives forever. Unlike the Kool-Aid pitcher, you can’t just back out and walk away: we’re a couple, and that’s that… unless you want me dead.”

“No! You can’t die!” He kissed her hand and continued holding it. His mind only now was starting to come to terms with the levity of the situation: the fact that she was 100% serious, and what all that meant for each of them going forward.

“So let’s each use the toilet, if you need to, and turn off our phones, and settle back in here with another glass of wine. Prepare to listen carefully: you’re going to hear way more than you might imagine… more than many people can handle. And I may not ever repeat some of it.”

They settled back down, again cuddling naked, arms around each other. She dove straight in to her saga.

“Daddy is… was… a smart man. It’s way complicated and I’ll explain later. The physical world fascinated him from his earliest days. He loved science, math, engineering, music, and free-form visual arts, but especially physics. He was so-so about the structure of formal education, but he loved learning, so he did well in school, going to M.I.T. for undergraduate and graduate work. He was already starting on the road to being a particle physicist when he and the spawn of Satan known as my mother met.”

“Sorry to interrupt, but will you be talking about her?”

“Yeah… later. Unfortunately for all of us, she’s unavoidable. Maybe I’d better just get her started now. She’s about the same age as Daddy and from a similar background, though she’s nowhere near as smart nor motivated, thus she took the easy way out: wiggled her butt and tits to get Daddy’s attention, then got her M.r.s. degree after squeaking out a bachelor’s in education or somesuch.”

“A bachelor’s degree isn’t a gimme.”

“It wasn’t from M.I.T., babe. It was from some little dinko ‘college’ no one’s ever heard of which is now a strip mall. Other than Mom’s highly annoying friend Fran, who looks like a mangy horse and practically whinnies like one, no one I know has ever heard of anyone going to nor graduating from her ‘college’.”

She still had aspects of the endearingly beautiful little girl look on her face. Welcome as that was in some ways, Nate was relieved to discover that her adult sarcasm remained intact and, when she let it out, in full force.

“Mom had what passed for conventional good looks of her era, and apparently at one time long ago was a nice, fun person to be around.”

“Does or did she have big bazooms?”

“Nope. 32D. Big enough for Daddy, apparently—at least when they met. It was the mid-1960. Something else they had in common was enjoying what was happening musically—the rock ’n’ roll explosion and all that. Hey… d’ you know how to fix a record player turntable?”

“I’m sure I could figure it out, especially with stuff online. Or we could just use mine.”

“I want Daddy’s to work again. Got it in the closet over there… his whole old stereo system. He’s got this schweet Crown preamp and amp—separate components, which he said were better, and a Dual turntable. He explained to me one time how he heard about the Dual from friends from M.I.T. before it became popular, and how it was a precision machine from West Germany which was gentler on records than the Garrards from England, which were better known at the time.”

“I didn’t know you knew so much about audio tech.”

“Learned it all from Daddy” she replied, followed with a very deep sigh. “Anyway… I stole all his vinyl from Mom.”

“None of it was hers?”

“Do I give a fuck?”

“Yes, actually, you give the best fucks!”

She decided she needed some more wine and a little penis squeezy time, and that he needed some more squeezy on her breasts, along with some kissing.

“So anyway,” she continued, “they were down with the music of the counterculture, but not so much the rest. He had that conservative, clean-cut 1950s hold-over look, which I gather was necessary as an engineer at a big company in the 1960s. She kinda sorta rocked a bit of ’60s fashion here and there, but mostly she fell into being the good housewife. What can I say? Worked for them… for awhile.

“’60s turned into the ’70s. By the end of the decade, they were getting older, and apparently thinking about their future. For some reason, they decided to have a kid.”

“Are you the only one?”

“Yeah. Only child… just like you, babe” she stroked his chest as she cuddly-leaned into his side.”

“Sounds pretty idyllic, so far.”

“It was and it wasn’t. I could be a pretty bratty kid—surprise, surprise.”

He chuckled at her sarcasm.

“Apparently I was already Daddy’s Girl before I was old enough to have any awareness about anything. Mom loves to rag on about how I’d cry and scream and fuss when she took care of me, but as soon as Daddy came home and held me in his arms and…”–she started to get choked up, looking at Nate and seeing the similarities–“speaking to me softly.”

“I hope I meet him someday” he intentionally said softly.

“I wish… it’s so fucked up. Anyway… I grew out of my infantile bratty stage, and both Mom and Daddy were OK with me for awhile. Mommy gave me food and clothes and Daddy showed me the wonders of the world. I think he hoped that I’d be a geek girl, but unfortunately I inherited Mom’s shit brains.”

“Nah, sorry Deb: I know smart and stupid, and you’re smart. You could be a particle physicist, or whatever else you want to be.”

“I wish I believed you… that I could be more than a fuck-up.”

“If you’re serious about us living together, which I gather you are, I’ll have plenty of opportunity to convince you. After all, I broke through your barrier.”

“Yes you did. And you still have no idea what body-swallowing level of stinky shit you’ve gotten yourself into. The point for now is that things went pretty well until I was 8. The hormones started to kick in: my breasts started to grow, my hips widened a bit, and I was again chubby. Mom and Daddy fought about my weight: Mom insisted they needed to cut back on my food, whereas wiser Daddy knew that I was growing into a woman early, for whatever reason, and needed solid nutrition. Daddy won.”

She grew wistful in expression, gazing into the distance as she continued her story, “Sometimes he’d pick me up after school and take me to the park. We’d run around and toss or roll or kick one of those bright, colorful play balls back and forth. Then we’d get the can of cracked corn out of the trunk and feed the ducks—Daddy said that cracked corn was better for them than bread, and he taught me not to chase them when I was 4. After the park, he’d take me to Farrell’s—remember those?”

“Oh yeah! Wasn’t it that old-timey ice cream place?”

“And a restaurant. We’d have an early dinner together, without Mom nagging us about what we ordered.”

“Was your father, uh… chunky?”

“No. Daddy has a high metabolism, unlike his dumpling daughter. He made sure I didn’t eat pure junk, though he was more flexible about it. And we always got ice cream, which I loved and we never had at home. We’d sit and talk about our days—my day at school and his day at work—or about science or music or just about anything. Daddy always knew how to talk age-appropriately with me, giving me the benefit of the doubt of maturity when he wasn’t sure. He could explain really complicated aspects of physics to me in a way my 8-year-old mind could understand… or thought I could understand.”

“You probably understood him. You’re smart.”

She hugged him tightly for a moment, then released and continued, “My womanly curves kept growing, especially my breasts, as I turned 9. I remember hearing Mom and Daddy argue after I went to bed, about what to do or not do about my early ‘development’.”

“Who wanted what?”

“Mom thought I should be in a bra, but amazing Daddy somehow found out decades before it was common knowledge that my breasts would be healthier and less saggy going braless as long as possible, then being in a loose-fitting bra after that. Mom fought hard, but again Daddy won, based upon the substantiated facts.

“The best and worst thing that ever happened in my life happened when I was 9 and 1/2. The wind blew the door open to my parents’ bathroom while I was waiting for Daddy to finish up, so we could go for a weekend bike ride. I saw what I soon learned was his penis, and everything changed.”

“Where was your mom?”

“Visiting her sister. Daddy and I had done some yard work in the morning, so we’d earned our playtime. I was captivated by it.” She looked over and gently caressed Nate’s penis as she told this part of her story. “The mushroom head on the odd shaft… the wrinkly bag beneath… the curly hairs… the way he could pee out of it. I still remember what I said: ‘What’s that mushroom growing out of you, Daddy?’ I remember that he blushed, but knowing that I was about as curious as he’d been as a child, he probably figured he couldn’t pretend it was nothing, nor make a big deal about it.

“He invited me in as he washed it and that whole area really well with soap and a washcloth, then dried it with a fresh hand towel. He explained what it was, how it compared to my genitals, and how as I’d just seen, he used it to urinate, and that men could urinate standing up because they had one. I thought it was the best thing ever! I asked him if I could have one, and he explained that it would be next to impossible and likely wouldn’t work out well, and that I had my own special body parts to be proud of and enjoy.

“I begged him to let me touch it, and he let me… it was wonderful! I felt myself getting faint and he knew I was in trouble, so he guided me to their bed, so I could lie down. Lying down and feeling better, I asked him whether it did anything other than going to the bathroom. He grew a bit hesitant, then explained that it was also used for sex, and that I could ask him more questions in a few years, once I was older and had gone through sex education at school. I demanded he bring it close again, so I could touch it lying down. I did, and it grew, which for 9 1/2-year-old me, was amazing. Instinctively no doubt, I put my mouth around it. He told me ‘No, don’t do that, sweetie: it’s dirty’, gently guiding me off of it and pulling away. He retrieved his pants and we went on our bicycle ride. I never was the same after that: I’d felt what I’ve long known is lust, but it was brand-new and I had no idea at the time what it was.

“This was 1989. Daddy had a brand-new Macintosh IIcx, with the color screen and enough memory and all that to run Mathematica. He gave me his old SE, which I used for games and drawing and playing. Remember KidPix?”

“Well. Very good program, which some people still use today.”

“I loved it! Anyway… unlike his old SE he gave me, Daddy’s IIcx had a modem… something like 1200 baud I think he said.”

“That was fast, for 1989.”

“It was amazing! He showed me how to use it, and how to go to BBSes—remember those?”

“You used BBSes?!”

“Yeah” she salaciously answered. “Whadda ya think of your proto-geek girl now?”

“I fuckin’ love you, Deb!” he gushed as he hugged her tightly, “I truly do! As long as there’s no violence, we can live together… though I don’t know where.”

“As long as I’m sleeping with you every night, I don’t care where it is. Anyway… he showed me the world of BBSes so that I could explore and learn things which weren’t in the Encyclopedia Brittanica, especially science and techie things which might be too new for the books at the library. Even better: he had a university connection to Usenet Newsgroups.”

“No!”

“Yes! Even mo bettah: that one was a local call, and we had unlimited local calling and a separate line for the modem.”

“I am so jealous of your childhood!”

“Don’t be: it gets ugly. Seeing and touching Daddy’s penis gave me feelings I’d never felt before, which was both scary and exciting. I’d remembered that he’d mentioned ‘sex education’, so I figured I’d read about this sex thing.”

Nate’s eyes grew wide.

“Yeah. I found alt.sex and its subsidiary groups. A lot of it I didn’t understand, but I could tell people really liked to type about this sex thing! I referred to the encyclopedia, which had a rather sterile explanation, yet one I could more or less comprehend.

“I kept reading what I could find, everywhere. I found this word, ‘masturbation’, which I didn’t understand. I looked it up in the dictionary, then the words in its definition that I didn’t understand. Being curious like Daddy, it sounded interesting, so I wanted to try it. I asked him about it, and I remember he turned beet red and said, ‘You’re too young for that, sweetie. Wait until you’re at least 12’. I asked him why, and for the first time in his life, I could see he didn’t have a good answer for me. That was the moment where I learned that other people—adults, experts—could not always be trusted to have answers—even Daddy!

“I looked up ‘masturbation for girls’ and didn’t find anything. I kept trying over weeks then months, and finally found something. Please don’t ask me where, because I don’t remember. All I remember is that it changed my life forever. I sat there at Daddy’s computer and followed the instructions. As soon as I got the hang of it, it felt so good—uuuuhhh! I practiced in bed every night after Mom and Daddy went to bed, and by week’s end, I’d given myself my first orgasm… and I’ve barely stopped since.”

She paused her story to caress and play with his fresh erection, kissing and licking it almost to the point of inevitability.

“We’ll take care of that later. I truly to my core hate talking about all this, but you crashed into my-now-our innermost sanctum, so it’s time and I wanna get it over with. You need a full understanding of how deeply you’ve fucked up getting inside my defenses.

“I kept reading on the alt.sex groups that masturbation was all well and good, but that sex with another person was even better. Further, I received confirmation of what I already sensed: that I was becoming a woman already, even though I was barely turning 10. Daddy’d taught me to be patient, but I didn’t understand why I had to wait to have sex. I made the egregious mistake of asking Mom and Daddy over dinner one night, which set off the first of a series of massive fights between them.”

“Verbal only, I hope.”

“Yeah. I’m not going to hit you any more, Nate. As long as you’re not lying to me, cheating on me, nor hitting me nor breaking my stuff intentionally, my hitting you is all in the past. Like I said, it was to keep you away from penetrating my defenses. You’ve done that; you’re all the way inside. I have nothing left to protect from you.” A few tears dribbled out her eyes as she cuddled into him, shivering slightly, again looking at him with that fearful, vulnerable little girl face which remained all new to him.

A couple minutes later she continued, “Mom threw things, but Daddy made her stop, and she did. They heard me crying in my room once their fight was over. Mom, the bitch, phoned someone—probably her sister. Daddy came in and cuddled me the way… the way… the way you’re doing now—and don’t you dare stop!”

She didn’t want him to stop (and he didn’t), though she had to stop her story again to let go of some of her old hurt. He did very well holding her affectionately and gently stroking her arm, but it wasn’t until she moved his hand to her left breast and made him squeeze her there that she fully let go and worked through the feelings.

“I cried and told Daddy that I was sorry and that all I wanted to do was be his good little girl and learn about life. He said that the fight wasn’t my fault, and that I was his good, curious girl, that no one could help it if I was growing up faster in some ways than most girls, and that I would be an intelligent, capable, beautiful woman before anyone knew it. One out of 3 ain’t bad, I guess.”

“You’re 3 for 3, girlfriend” he insisted, doing the Eskimo kissing nose-rubbing thing with her, prompting a sigh from her.

“I started getting the sense that this sex stuff was super powerful, and that I’d better get more of an understanding of it before I did anything beyond masturbating, which I continued to do. I figured the ‘mastur’ part had to do with mastering smothering my face in my pillow when I came, which is how I did things until my boobs grew big enough that I could silence myself via planting my mouth into one of them.” She glanced over and noticed the start of something explosive, “Awww… looks like my boyfriend needs a titty fuck, stat!” She shifted around and pressed her breasts against his prong, just as he went off.

“Sorry.”

“Don’t be. You’re my full-time boyfriend now. That’s one of your perqs, for all the crap you’ll be putting up with, like dealing with the true, inner me.”

“Every aspect of the true, inner you which you’ve revealed so far is beyond wonderful.”

“Yeah; thanks” she non-commitally replied, still not 100% comfortable revealing how deeply he’d touched her. “The next trauma I precipitated was once again on Daddy’s Mac. I was looking around, trying to find a file I’d just saved but hadn’t paid attention to where.”

“Been there” he laughed. “That was the old Finder: the one which couldn’t find anything.”

“Tell me about it! Anyway… I stumbled onto Daddy’s porn stash. I didn’t know that’s what it was until I double-clicked a file with some meaningless name of letters and numbers. JPEGView opened up and did its little cursor dance, and line-by-line a naked lady filled the window. Busty, curvy, a little thick in her middle… different than me, but not entirely. I opened up a few more, and the women were different, yet similar: busty, curvy, and varying degrees of plump to almost fat.”

“What was your mom like, physically?”

“Average for a middle-aged woman, I guess. Not busty, but some curves and some softness. These women in the pictures all had bigger boobs and more pronounced curves—like me, but not like Mom.

“I had no idea that I had to close old pictures before opening new ones to keep the Mac happy, so after I opened the 8th. picture, the Mac froze. I could hear Mom and Daddy coming home, and panicked. Daddy taught me the proper way to deal with a freeze, but I was too torqued to remember. I must’ve looked like a deer in headlights when they both came into his office at the same time and saw what was on the screen. I still remember Mom’s exact words:

‘What are you looking at, young lady?!”

‘I was… I was looking for a file I saved, and I found these by mistake!’

‘Don’t lie to me!’

‘I’m not!’

‘Go to your room, now!’

“Daddy and I looked sadly at each other, and I gave him a really quick hug on my way out. No one said anything about closing the door to my room, so I left it open and heard the rest. She was all, ‘What the hell is all this?’ and Daddy was all, ‘It’s exactly what it looks like.’

‘Why?’

‘Why do you think?!: To fulfill my needs that you no longer do! Would you rather have an open marriage instead?!’

“That’s when one of them noticed that the library door was still open, and pulled it closed, so I couldn’t clearly hear the rest. It went on for awhile. I looked down at my body and cried, wondering why Nature was making me into a woman when no one wanted me to be a woman yet.”

“What did you want?”

She turned and looked him straight in the eye, “Those feelings I had whenever I had an orgasm. As much as possible, forever. Wanting to discover whether sex with another person was as good as the people writing about it on the alt.sex groups made it seem. Didn’t matter to me what the label was: I was fine being a woman or a girl, as long as I could feel those feelings. I was already addicted to oxytocin or whatever it is plus the rest of that hormone stuff by the age of nine. Still am, and expect to be until I die. So you’d better get used to having a lot of sex with me, Boyfriend, ’cause that’s how I’m made.”

“Do you want to get off, Deb?”

“Please. I need it.”

“What would you like?”

“You to reach in and touch and poke me inside and fondle me like it’s your right. Because now given what you’ve done and that we’re full-time boyfriend/girlfriend, it is… as well as one of your new responsibilities.”

His recovering penis rose to half-staff with the excellent sights and feelings of pleasuring her. She appreciated how he went nice and slow, not in any rush, caressing her inner thighs and other sensitive places, allowing her plenty of time to savor the feelings and get worked up at her own speed.

After awhile, he decided to add nipple suckling to the down-below hand stimulation. He found it difficult to hold her massive, flowing, gently wobbling mammary gland with just one hand. She gladly helped him with hers, in the moment being nearly as turned on as he was with how big she was up top.

Her first orgasm sounded as primal as usual to him, also a bit less guarded and worldly. “Would you like me to keep going?”

“Please” she gasped.

Keeping it slow, relaxed, tender, and (per her wishes) relentless, together they took her through several more orgasms over the next few minutes. She collapsed into him once she was done, gently caressing his arm and chest, moved to declare, “Nate, I love you! ”

“Really?”

“I truly do! And it’s scaring me shitless.”

“Why?”

“’Cause I haven’t let myself actually love anyone romantically since…. You need to hear the rest of the story.”

They cuddled in afterglow for awhile. Eventually, Deb continued.

“I asked Daddy about the pictures one time when we were alone together. He said that it was complicated, because it had to do with adults and sex, and that I’d understand better in a few years. I explained that I’d been reading about sex on the alt.sex groups and elsewhere, and that since I was becoming a woman already anyway, asked him what I should study to learn more. After his initial shock subsided, he surprised me: he told me that I should study jealousy, envy, desire, marriage, and love, if I truly wanted to start to understand adult sex. He led me to the library/home office and he showed me some of the newsgroups on those subjects outside of the alt hierarchy, explaining that no one source of information on its own could be trusted, yet odds of accurate information were better in these other groups. We went to the public library together. He skimmed a few books on these topics to ensure that they were accurate, then checked them out on my behalf, handing them over to me back in the car. He held my hands and looked me in the eye, emphasizing that schoolwork and home chores came first, then these books, and only if I had free time after that, stuff online. He tried to explain that Mom would be angry if she knew what he’d done, talking with me about these subjects and especially checking out the books for me. He could see that I didn’t truly understand about Mom being angry, which saddened and upset him.

“Even though I didn’t initially understand why Mom would be upset with me improving myself via self-education, I trusted Daddy and made sure she didn’t know about the books, nor the discussion he and I had had. I read at least one chapter—usually several—every night when I went to bed. Daddy taught me the trick of putting a plain, nondescript slip cover over whichever book I was reading, so soon I could sit and read with him and Mom at night, without Mom getting bent, as long as I remembered not to discuss what I was reading with them.”

“She didn’t ask you about what you were reading? Or try to look over your shoulder?”

“No. She was so happy that I wasn’t online on Daddy’s computer and was reading a paper book, she didn’t seem to much care what it was.

“The books opened up my mind at just about the right time. I was still young enough that I didn’t fully grasp aspects of human behavior, yet I got a lot of it. The subject matter was a lot more compelling than what I was learning in school, but being mindful of what Daddy told me, I stayed on top of schoolwork, learning there too and maintaining good grades.”

“What sort of grades?”

“A- B+ mostly. That was back when I cared, and still felt I had a bright future.”

“You don’t think you do now?”

“Just listen to the story, please. The more I learned from the books, the more I figured out that things weren’t great between Mom and Daddy. There hadn’t been any big blow-ups for awhile, though with my greater sensitivity and awareness of these new ideas of human interactions, I could see tension and frustration.

“About half a year after I started reading that first set of books—and Daddy checked out many more for me, and never did we fail to get them renewed or turned back in in time—they had another argument. This time it didn’t involve me, so it was easier for me to listen in without being wrapped up in my own emotions. What I heard shocked me: Mom and Daddy hadn’t shared sex in over a year! Mom said that she wasn’t interested any more since menopause, and now that they were older, why couldn’t Daddy let go of his lust? He told her that men like him remain passionate lovers their entire lives, and that if she’d get her hormones back in balance, her own passions would likely return and their… and their marriage would… remain intact.” Deb was again upset.

“Are your parents divorced?”

“Worse than that… far worse. I’ll explain when I get to that. You gotta hear the story chronologically so as not to leap to the same incorrect conclusions most people do.”

“I’m listening. I appreciate your telling me this more than you know.”

“It’s still hard for me, even with you now on my emotional and psychological insides. Be kind and gentle in here with me, Nate: you have full access to my raw being. There’s no longer anything between you and my true innermost self.”

She paused again to let her point sink in. The full vulnerability he sensed shocked him anew.

“{Poor Daddy!} I thought to myself, knowing how I’d already become addicted to masturbation, even being not fully clear on the definition of addiction at the time. I read about menopause, which of course led to menses, which freaked me out.”

“Sorry to interrupt, but if we’re actually going to live together, I need to know: does your behavior change around your period?”

“Yeah: I get mega sarcastic and cynical. I tend to self-medicate more, usually with weed but sometimes alcohol.”

“Pissed off at men?”

“Not without reason, and specific to specific men. A bit envious that you guys don’t have to deal with it, like I have since I was 10 and 1/2.”

“Wow.”

“Yeah. But you’ve got prostate cancer and other shit, the way we’ve got breast and cervical cancer and our own other shit. It’s not your nor any other man’s fault that evolution gave women menses, so no hate there. Seriously, I’m still freaked out about menopause, especially becoming an asexual witch, like Mom. I’m scared, Nate… it won’t be all that many more years, and… I don’t want to lose my sex drive!”

“You could do hormone therapy, like your Daddy wanted your mom to undergo. Also, keep in mind that you literally are Daddy’s girl as much as Mommy’s daughter: you might inherit whatever your father’s family’s women had going for intra- and post-menopausal sex drive. Do you even know what that is?”

“No. Nor can I easily find out.”

“It’s not always cessation of desire. Sometimes it can be the opposite: my parents’ mid-life crisis was that Mom got mega horny during and after menopause. Dad was still in the game, but not driven as hard.”

“What did they do? Did they resolve it?”

“Yeah. In the cool, hip way I’d come to expect: they swung.”

“No shit?!”

“None. But that wasn’t all, nor the first part. Initially, they talked about it a lot. Dad encouraged her to explore her sexuality. They went shopping together for sex toys, and even when he wasn’t really in the mood, he’d try role-playing with her, or reciting parts of her favorite smut novels whilst she got herself off. Which sometimes woke up his arousal, leading to more sex for her.”

“You’re making me wet.”

“You’re making me hard. They’re still doin’ it to this day, along with their play partner couple-friends, so I feel pretty good about my own odds of life-long passion. Even better as far as I’m concerned: they now are more emotionally expressive. Mom even willingly hugs me now, and doesn’t always time out after 3 minutes. Don’t sweat what your mom went through, or maybe is still going through: it may not happen to you, and if it does, there are legit work-arounds if you want them. Ready for some more sex?”

“Yeah!”

“How about I pump you and then eat you?”

She responded with a guttural growl-moan rather than words, climbing atop him like she owned him (because she did).

They spontaneously fell into a battle of strong wills: he did all he could to hold out on release against her charms + vigorous sexing, whilst she did all she could to make him cum as fast and hard as possible. He did pretty well for a few minutes, but once she was into her second loud, plaintive moaning orgasm and wriggling/humping him wildly, he had to let go.

“I’m ready to eat you, except I really don’t like tasting my own fluids.”

“I hear ya… not into that myself. Now that you’re all mine and I know you’ll be here in the morning, I’ll take a rain check on the munch to which I quite look forward.”

“Technically past midnight is morning, so it’s almost morning now.”

“Yeah. Please tell me you’re awake, ’cuz I’m wide awake and I need to tell this story in one sitting.”

“Lemme have a bathroom break and ideally some water, and I’m good.”

“As I was saying, knowing from direct experience how important sexual release was, I felt really bad for Daddy that he wasn’t getting any, and that Mom inexplicably didn’t seem to care! That’s about the time I started truly disliking her. I made the huge mistake one day of asking her why she didn’t do something so that she and Daddy could resume having sex like adults were supposed to. Remember how I bruised your arm?”

“Vividly.”

“I’m sorry. Truly that won’t happen any more. Mom did exactly that to me as she dragged me to my room, lecturing me on the way about how I’d better forget all about anything having to do with sex or love until I was ‘of age’, by which she meant ‘legal age’. She insisted that her and Daddy’s love life was no one else’s business in no uncertain terms. I mouthed off ‘But Daddy has needs!’ just before she closed my bedroom door. She flew back in and gave me a righteous spanking, then told me I was grounded until Daddy came home and she and he worked things out.

“They had another big fight when he came home, with a lot of yelling both ways. Daddy came in and sat with me on my bed, leaving the door open so Mom The Bitch could see that he wasn’t doing anything ‘bad’. He listened to my side of the story, comforting me and at the same time telling me in a much nicer, more civil way what Mom had said: that his and her love was a private matter for just them to work out. I cried and I told him I wanted to help. He told me that the best way I could help would be to keep growing up to be an honest woman of intelligence, wisdom, and integrity, and that love and sex would work out for him and Mom and eventually me. I could sense that he didn’t believe his own words when he spoke of things working out between himself and Mom.

“I kept studying the world of love and sex and intimate interpersonal relationships over the summer, now with more time due to no schoolwork. Mom and Daddy had more harsh words with each other, though not all-out explosive arguments. Then Mom did something heinous which infuriated both me and Daddy: she stopped sleeping in the same bed with him! Don’t ever do that to me, Nate, unless one of us is sick and we talk about it and agree on it temporarily… it’s a hot-button issue for me.”

“I won’t” he verified with a kiss.

“I knew I had to do something. Things were bad enough that Mom took off to spend a month with her parents, ruining the family vacation we’d planned to the Grand Tetons, which I still would like to see someday.”

“We can. I’ve never been.”

She smiled, rubbed the side of her head into his side, then continued, “Mom had a hissy fit when Daddy suggested that he and I might go without her. He was in the middle of some important research at work, so he was just as glad to stay home. I told the truth, as usual: I was disappointed, but I had friends to play with and things to do.

“In a way, it was perfect: with Mom out of town and Dad at work daytimes, I had most of the day on my own. I practiced putting on Mom’s make-up and jewelry, other than her pierced earrings, some of which I badly wanted to wear. One night after I’d gone to bed, I suddenly remembered something I wanted to ask Daddy. I got up and found him in the library. He quickly hid the porn pic he was looking at, but not so quickly that I couldn’t see what it was. I asked him the question, he answered it, and I went back to bed, pretending not to notice that I’d seen he had his pants unzipped.

“Next morning when he went to work, I found the picture: busty, plump young woman with a visibly plump mound, naked of course. One I’d seen before when I’d accidentally opened the pictures—he’d had it for awhile. About my height and build… I could do this!”

Nate’s face grew ashen. She noticed and grabbed him gently by the shoulders, saying, “Babe… this is where it gets ultra important that you keep listening with an open mind. Most of the world doesn’t understand. You’re not most of the world, and you busted past my defenses, so you need to understand! Remember, I am not bullshitting you: life and death, for me. You wanted to know all about me, you forced your way in, and here we are. Let your pre-conceived notions go, and listen… please.

“I went through Mom’s clothes, and deep in the back of the closet, found some older, pretty damn hot dresses and outfits I’d never seen her wear. Given that I was plump and extra-curvy and already well on my way to my adult body, and that she and I aren’t all that far off in height, I was able to pull it off. Most of the clothes fit surprisingly well and her 32D bras fit almost perfectly at not even age 11!”

“Damn!”

“Oh yeah. Until recently when I’ve been getting fat enough that my belly flows so far in front, I hadn’t seen my belly via looking down directly since I turned 12. All boobs all the time.”

“I hope you’ll tell me the honest story of what living with big breasts your whole life has actually been like for you—good and bad and everything else.”

“You’re hearing part of it now and I’ll tell you the rest later during our long time together, so keep listening. I rocked Mom’s sexy clothes hard, filling out a blue semi-sheer art patterned dress better than she could—especially the plunging neckline. After a couple of days of experimenting with the various options, I settled on this dress, Mom’s pearl necklace—and I had no clue about real vs. fake, and I learned years later that this one was the real deal—and the least-worst set of earrings from the few clip-ons she had.

“It was Tuesday—I still remember—when I was ready to execute. Daddy left me small amounts of cash to buy food or snacks at the small corner grocer. I went to the big supermarket where we usually shopped, and struggled to pick out some nice cuts of meat. The butcher saw that I was having trouble, and of course offered to help. I could tell it shook him up to hear a little girl voice coming out of a voluptuous woman’s body, even though I was dressed as usual and not in any of Mom’s stuff yet. I explained that I’d never made dinner before, and that Mom was out of town and I wanted to make a special dinner for Daddy, because he worked so hard for us. I showed him how much money I had… I could see him fighting back tears at my sweet innocence. He asked whether I had things for other courses, such as a salad. I explained that we already had that at home, and also potatoes, though I didn’t know how to bake them. He grabbed a russet from the produce section, got a fork, and showed me then had me practice poking holes through the skin. He suggested a set of 4 lamb chops—two each for me and Daddy—carefully explaining how to bake them and how to put the potatoes in much earlier so they’d time out at the same time. He was happy to learn that I knew enough math to back-time the meal so that it would be done around the time I wanted it to be. He wrapped up and labeled the chops, and I was on my way.

“Daddy wasn’t always consistent in terms of the time he came home, but it was within half an hour most days. I back-timed it for about the middle of the range, since the helpful butcher explained that I could drop the oven temperature to Warm when the meat was done cooking, and that it should be OK for at least half an hour after that. The cooking time gave me enough time to carefully apply make-up and get dressed in Mom’s sexy dress and accessories. I preened and checked and made everything perfect—this was for Daddy, after all!”

Nate was beginning to get all too good of an idea where this story was headed, and a little more of what he’d gotten himself into. If he hadn’t already been so deeply in love with Deb Dunbar, he might have been frantically plotting an exit strategy.

“Everything was ready, other than dinner finishing cooking. My mind ran over everything I’d read, everything I’d learned. When I wasn’t occasionally checking on dinner—having no real idea what I was looking at, but knowing that Mom always checked it a few times—I was kneeling on the couch backwards, looking out the front window for Daddy’s Taurus. He arrived at just about the perfect time, in terms of dinner. I checked myself one final time in the hall mirror, and stood by the front door.

“‘Hi Daddy!’ I greeted him. I’m sure I startled him by opening the door before he could get his key in—which he held motionless as he stared at me—but mostly seeing me all dressed up like a real woman is what got to him. He stared with his mouth open, gaping, I guess, looking me up and down like so many other men and a few women would do in my future life.”

“I guess I’m just one of many who’ve done that.”

“That part yes, but you are more special than you have annnyyy idea, Boyfriend! I looked at his crotch, and could see that he liked what he saw. ‘Welcome home, Daddy! Come on in and give me a hug! Dinner’s almost ready’ I said. He was totally dazed… must’ve been like you and me when we got high, but Daddy was straight-edge at that moment.

“I said, ‘Gimme a kiss, please.’

‘Sweetie, I’ll smear your lipstick if I do.’

‘But… but that’s how it’s supposed to be!’

‘Does your mother know about this?’

‘No, because she doesn’t care about us any more!’

‘Debra, you know that’s not true! She works hard—like I do—to earn money for the family, and she does more than half of keeping the household running. She’s earned her time off visiting your Vermont Grandparents.’

‘Daddy, I know what’s going on: she’s depriving you of sex that you deserve, and I’m gonna make it better.’

“He got super upset, fighting back tears. ‘Debbie, sweetheart, we can’t do that!’

“‘Let’s have dinner and we’ll talk after’ I said with adult confidence. ‘The pork chops are ready now, and maybe you can show me how to re-poke the baked potatoes to tell if they’re done.’

“He didn’t make a move to change his clothes the way he usually did, so I unfastened his tie and slipped it off, setting it carefully atop the back of the nearest chair. He looked pale and messed up, the way you do now—and let me remind you, this is my history. It’s not the present nor the future, so none of us can change anything. But now that you’re an intimate part of my most private life, you need to know all about it, to have any hope of truly understanding me and living in loving peace with me.

“Daddy remained in his daze throughout dinner, though he managed to help me serve it, and compliment me on how well it came out. Which, thanks to the butcher, it actually did. Dinner worked perfectly, but he didn’t want to leave the table when it was over, even though I hadn’t thought of dessert. We got into an intense discussion, started by me, about him and me and Mom and sex, which he was only willing to hold as long as we remained seated in our usual seats at the dinner table. I’d read all kinds of articles and books about seduction, and was trying every technique I could. He resisted, but as I now know as an adult, it was a struggle for him, so I was succeeding. I made it totally clear that I knew what sex was, and what I was proposing. He quizzed me on it—sex and love and marriage and more—hard—and if I didn’t ace it, which I may have, I came close.

“‘Daddy, do you love me?’ I asked him.

‘Debra, I’ve always loved you as a daughter, and always will!’

‘What about as a sexy woman?’

‘Sweetie, you’re too young, and parents and children aren’t meant to be lovers! Did you not read Oedipus Rex?’

‘That was about a boy.’

‘How about the Electra Complex?’

‘That’s a psychology thing! The myth is different: it’s about revenge for murder!’

“I think Daddy was proud that I knew so much at such a young age, but that seemed to make him more afraid of me. I had the power, but I was still figuring out how to use it. He led me into the Library and gave me a quick, intense class on prohibitions between children and their parents being lovers in societies around the world, over the ages. We used the encyclopedia as well as what he could find online. He very quickly closed the window when he stumbled across a post from someone from something abbreviated NAMBLA, which seemed to prove my case when I insisted that he re-open it and discuss the merits and flaws of the person’s arguments. He got real upset knowing that I now knew that there were adults—we assumed—out there supporting my position.

“He took a different tack: showing me all the laws on the books prohibiting sexual relations with minors, especially with parents—all the sex offender laws and all that. He made me read the parts of our state and federal laws which applied to him in terms of me—especially how he could be incarcerated for years, and would have to register as a sex offender—then made me explain them to him, so he could be sure that I understood. The only part which seemed real to me and truly affected me was the part about his being forced to keep a distance from me.” She wrapped her arms back around Nate, once again holding him tight.

“‘That’s why we can’t do what you want’ he concluded.

“‘No one has to know’ I insisted, as I caressed his chest then slid seamlessly down to his crotch, as I’ve since done so many times.”

“You’re a virtuoso at it.”

“Practice, practice, practice. ‘People always find out’ he said, ‘Then I go to prison and all our lives are shattered.’

‘But you want me, Daddy. I can see it… I can feel it! You told me in February when we discussed slavery that sometimes laws have to be broken for progress to be made, and that many of those law-breakers were hung!’

“‘Death can be better than living a shattered life’ he told me in a voice tone that scared me.

“I ground my hips and said, ‘Oughhh, Daddy… I’m becoming a woman, and none of us can make it stop! I ache inside to know what it’s like to have your penis inside me! Help me, Daddy… it’s so uncomfortable!’ I could see his resolve cracking, via empathy.”

“As you’ve witnessed so many times since.”

“Hey, seduction is what I do. Not my fault if that’s my purpose here on earth. I kept going, ‘Daddy, it’s too much! Don’t you know?: the yearning’–I was so proud I’d found that word and read the definition, ‘the crushing desire?’ Tears started to roll out his eyes. I knew I nearly had him. He let me know that he knew what I was feeling, but that no one could do anything about it until I was in high school and could date boys. Big mistake on his part, saying that:

“‘OK Daddy. Maybe I should ask Mark if he can help, tomorrow. He’s already becoming a man, like me already becoming a woman. He gets a bulge like yours when he sees me.’ Daddy freaked, because he knew what I said about Mark was true, and that no matter what anyone said or did, I was strong-willed enough that I would find sex with someone.

“He re-iterated point-by-point why he and I couldn’t go there, then gave me a quick course on what then were called STDs, emphasizing the permanent life-altering issues of the nastier ones, going over some famous people who went mental or died of them in olden times. So I said, ‘Well then Daddy, if you want me to stay safe, I better have sex with you and you only!’ He again refused, repeating the stuff about the laws and people finding out, especially Mom. Then in a brilliant insight, I said, ‘What if I tell Mom we did have sex when we didn’t?’”

“There’s a name for that, you know.”

“Yeah: blackmail.”

“So how’re you gonna blackmail me?”

“Depends. If you’re not withholding sex with me and not sexing anyone else—unless you and I have specifically agreed beforehand—I won’t. I have a very strong libido, Nate… it’s been a problem for me in the past—as you’re currently learning—and now by breaking my defenses, it’s your problem in part, too. Daddy got into the same thing about it being a lie and blackmail and that I would be a very bad girl if I did any of that. So I told him something honest:

“‘Daddy, I hurt! I’m full of sex and lust and desire, and I can’t make it stop! I didn’t ask for this… you didn’t ask for this… you didn’t ask for Mommy to sexually abandon you, but all these things happened! Can’t we please heal each other?!’

“His last counter-argument was that it would hurt so much when he broke my hymen that I’d never want sex again in my life. I informed him that it already broke, rather painlessly, one day when I was inserting a tampon. The reminder that his little 10-year-old girl was already menstruating and shoving tampons up her vag shook him up anew. I lifted up the dress and pulled down my undies and insisted he inspect for confirmation, reminding him that as my daddy with Mom being gone, he was responsible for my health, and no one could press charges for him ensuring I was healthy. He grew mega-flushed as he made the confirmation, especially hearing my semi-womanly moans of pleasure as he touched me down there. My voice hadn’t changed yet, but it was in transition then already, so thankfully I didn’t sound so much like the little girl I technically was, according to age but nothing else.

“He was more worked up than he wanted to be. I took advantage, wrapping my arms around him and kissing him on the lips. He resisted at first, but I kept going, in the most tender, loving way I could. After a couple of minutes of that, he gave in, kissing me back. He let me practice french kissing on him, then tentatively tried it on me, and next thing we knew, we were going at it with each other.

“He cried and whimpered a little as I led him to his and formerly Mom’s bedroom, with me reassuring him the whole way in my best adult manner that we really had no choice and had to do what we were about to do, for each of our own well-being—especially his keeping me safe from the unknown penises I was bound and determined to experience if he wouldn’t sexually love me. He told me that if he couldn’t find a viable condom, we’d have to figure out something different to do. Unfortunately for him, he found several, all still within their date code and visibly in good condition. He gave up, and totally stopped resisting.

“He let me take his clothes off first, patiently waiting as I ogled his hard penis, bigger and longer than I’d yet seen it. He calmly explained that if I played with it too much, he’d have a release right there in open air, and I wouldn’t be able to find out what him inside me felt like until the following evening. I let go and let him take my—well, Mom’s—clothes off. I still feel shivers when I remember him saying, ‘You truly are a woman, Debra’ as he removed Mom’s bra from me. I was so excited that as soon as he demonstrated breast pleasuring with his mouth and tongue, I came, with a loud squeal which I think startled him. He asked me what I thought about orgasm, and I told him they were wonderful and I had one nearly every night in bed via masturbation. Once he recovered from the shock that his little girl was already familiar with orgasms and had been getting herself off for quite awhile, he confided that he did the same thing with his porn pictures, now that Mom wasn’t interested. I assured him that would not be a problem from now on, which again put him on edge.

“I think he hoped that fondling my breasts and touching me down below would be good enough. He did give me another nice orgasm with his fingers in my vag, but as you know from personal experience, I wasn’t satiated. I lay face-up with my legs near the edge of the bed, spread as wide as I could, as I’d seen in the pictures. ‘Daddy, make love to me’ I said. ‘Show me how a good man does it!’

“He was extra-careful and extra communicative as he slowly slid his condom-protected shaft into me. I felt mind-bendingly awesome things I’d never felt before, and instantly understood why most people preferred sex with a partner to solo sex.”

“Is your Daddy well-hung?”

“Wouldn’t have known, then. Now I know that he’s a wee bit above average, excellently utilized. If you ever wonder what his ‘junk’ is like, look at your own: you two are nearly genital clones, last I saw of Daddy. No coincidence why I haven’t been able to let you out of my life, even when I was in denial about it.”

“Anything about me beyond the genitals like him?”

“Oh yeah. You look kinda sorta a little bit like him, you’re smart like him, you’re pretty open-minded, which he totally is… last I saw of him.”

“How long ago was that?”

“Can’t tell you that now.”

Nate let out a big yawn: it was getting on towards 1 AM.

“Babe, have some chocolate or coffee or something—ya can’t go to sleep on the most important story of my life!”

“I won’t. I’m good” he insisted.

“He tried to give me a long, slow screw, but the poor man had been deprived of the real thing for so long and I was so sexy that he had to go off within only about 3 or 4 minutes of entering me. Didn’t matter—Daddy’d sexed me, and in my world view he and I were now lovers, and the rest of the world could stuff it.”

“No remorse? No shame?”

“Then: him, not me. And as you’re about to hear, I made it all better for Daddy, until things went wrong. He was again upset once it was over: I heard him crying in the bathroom once he’d pulled out and was in there flushing the condom. I ran in and cuddled him lovingly, softly assuring him that he’d done the best possible thing, and that everything would be OK—quite the role-reversal for us from my then-recent years. I led him back to the bed, where we cuddled naked in afterglow, exploring each other’s bodies and talking about all sorts of things related to love and sex and human beings. We slept together naked that night, in his and formerly Mom’s bed, cuddling each other.

“He was upset anew in the morning, regretting what he’d done, especially once I asked him to help me get off. I kept reminding him of the strength of his and my libidos, and how neither one of us had asked for them, nor my maturing so young, and especially not Mom going sexually and emotionally cold on him. Reluctantly, I got dressed in my own clothes and kept reassuring him as we made breakfast together. I asked him what he wanted to see me in when he came home that night, and I’ll never forget what he told me: ‘The real you, sweetie. No cosmetics, no special clothes… because you don’t need those things to be a sexy, beautiful young woman.’ Thus started Daddy’s and my romance.”

Nate’s eyes grew wide.

“Keep listening, pretty Boyfriend: this is the best part of my early life!

“When Daddy came home that night, I greeted him at the door, nude. He rushed inside and locked the door, shocked. I was sad, telling him that this was the real me and thinking he didn’t like the real me. He held me close and kissed me, and told me how proud he was of my literal, logical mind, and how I was growing up into an incredible young woman. He still harbored some reservations, but fewer of them and I could tell he’d pretty much given up fighting—exactly like me giving up fighting you a few hours ago.”

She stared at him intensely for the better part of a minute as they continued gently holding one another.

“I undressed him and convinced him we should make spaghetti dinner together, naked. He made me very happy when he groped each of my boobs at different points as we crossed paths in the kitchen—I was a woman now—Daddy’s woman! It was a much happier, friendlier, lower-stress dinner. I think he realized that there was no going back, so he might as well enjoy it best he could and make things as nice for his literally loving daughter as possible. Mom was still scheduled to be away for 3 more weeks, so in the near-term there was no urgency for figuring out how to handle difficult issues. Daddy had much better control that night, staying hard after having gotten me off more than once, in the several different positions he showed me.”

“Which one did you especially like?”

“All of them! I love sex, especially a live, wriggling cock in me, every which way! Like I said, thus began Daddy’s and my love affair. He’d given in 100% by Thursday evening, at which point he and I worked together to explore our shared sexuality. I gather he figured that given what had happened and that it couldn’t be taken back, he might as well give me the best possible hands- and genitals-on sex education that he could. Even though I assured him that I would remain his lover for life, he emphasized safe sex, and what to look for when choosing partners who may become whole-life lovers and not just sex lovers, or even eventually my spouse. We each studied the various STDs in depth, with Daddy quizzing me days later on symptoms, preventive measures, and which ones could and could not be cured at the time. He checked out a copy of the Kama Sutra, and we had a stellar weekend of fun and laughs trying out as many positions as we could, which were a lot, since Daddy was flexible by design and fitness and I was by youth.

“It was a little hard to fall back into daughter-father hand-holding instead of lover-lover hand-holding and kissing and other adult PDAs when we had to go out shopping and do chores and so on, but I know we each liked secretly knowing we were lovers as well as truly loving father and daughter. During the last week of Mom’s vacation, we got into the very difficult discussion of how and when we could carry on, once Mom was home. I had all kinds of what I now know were stupid ideas, like my meeting Daddy at his work, or going off together to a motel like I’d read adults did. Without as much emotional drama and holding each other naked cuddled close, Daddy very carefully went over how one false move on either his part or mine, and he’d be judged to be a criminal and horrible person for the rest of his life, which not only would pull us apart, but would ruin his, my, and Mom’s lives… maybe even my two sets of grandparents’. I made it clear that I understood. We set up an arrangement on his Mac whereby we could share notes to each other in text files, in a hidden, invisible folder into which he’d moved his porn. I know you know how that works, and he showed me how to get in there at the time, but I couldn’t do it on my own now. Please don’t bother explaining now, because I want to stay with the story.”

“We’re good.”

“That last week was also my 11th. birthday: the one where my own mother wasn’t home and didn’t even call!”

“Yow! Harsh!”

“Yeah, isn’t it?! Daddy saved the day. He asked me what I wanted for my birthday, and I told him: pierced ears. He smiled and didn’t even hesitate to look some things up, make a few phone calls, and take me right out to get it done that evening. He bought me a pair of beautiful pearlescent spindrift-blue studs—let me show you!”

She leapt up and jiggled off to her bedroom, returning swiftly with a blue-flocked jewel box.

“Look at these!”

“Nice.” In all honesty, he thought they were OK, but nothing special.

“Sorry, but I only wear these for Daddy, so unless some amazing shit happens, you’ll only see them in the box.”

“I’m OK with that. I know you have other earrings, which I’ve seen at the Get-Togethers. And somehow I have a feeling that someday Boyfriend will be buying Girlfriend a pair she picks out.”

She dribbled a few tears, over what to him was a startlingly mainstream proposed sentimental gesture.

{Maybe Double D isn’t as non-conformist as she presents} he thought. {I’m good with this.}

“Back to the story. At first, Daddy and I both thought we would go crazy with lust, since there wasn’t any safe time to get together. We had to keep it squeaky father-daughter clean when Mom was, or might be, around. We shared our angst via text, writing love and sex poetry to each other, promising each other that we’d think of one another when we each masturbated in the limited, separate environs which we were allowed.

“Things were actually better at home between Mom and Daddy, and thus also me, after Mom’s vacation—at least after the massive tantrum she threw when she discovered Daddy gave me pierced ears. He shut her right up when he calmly reminded her that she’d totally forgotten her only daughter’s 11th. birthday! She felt like the shit she was, and let me pick out a pair of her earrings to be my own. Given that I’d lusted after a pair of 3 cm. diameter hoopy gold ones of hers, this was better than her buying me new ones!

“After that, things got chill. She still was a lust flat-line and continued to sleep in the guest bed, but Daddy now seemed to be happy without pushing her for intimacy. I think she thought he might be having an affair, but apparently as long as it didn’t intrude on our lives, she didn’t seem to care. She might have found it odd that I insisted that Daddy tuck me in every night, but if she did, she didn’t show it nor say anything. This gave us a chance to french kiss and momentarily grope each other, which helped keep us going and definitely helped me get off and fall asleep.”

“Do you need to get off every night to fall asleep?”

“No, not in recent years. But I usually want to, and sometimes it helps. Not tonight or this morning or whenever we actually go to bed… too tired! So… things were better at home, even though Daddy and I couldn’t make love the way we wanted, or even spend any meaningful time making out.

“Mom unknowingly made things much easier when she joined a group of her friends in a book-reading and wine-sampling club. At first Daddy thought she might be turning into a lesbian or something, but the thing about this book club was that all the women had lust-flatlined after menopause—which is one reason I’m still flipped out about it happening to me, since Mom had no trouble finding friends dying to escape their still-lusty husbands for a night. Oh, if I ever do lust flat line on you for over a month and it’s not due to temporary illness or injury, you’re free and clear to shag anyone you want.”

“Thanks, but I’m not worried. If you ever lust flat line, we’ll cuddle and talk about it… now that I’m on the inside and cuddles are OK.”

“You have no idea what you’ve done, Nate… you have to cuddle now, at least sometimes! Anyway… once Daddy chilled that Mom wasn’t doing him wrong and we figured out her pattern, we had two hours free and clear each Thursday night for intimacy. Mom seemed surprised that Daddy and I were so supportive of her chosen extra curricular activity, but especially once she learned that Daddy was safely at home with me rather than running around shagging floozies, she felt better about our family and her chosen escape. Some of the other women must have been experiencing other or similar forms of support, as their little asexual book club went on strong. One night Mom announced that her club was extending an hour, with a defiant tone as though she thought she might get friction from us. Nope, we were all supportive smiles, knowing that we’d soon have an additional hour for our own friction!

“Daddy’s and my love remained strong. Yes, we were limited to one night a week—sometimes not even that with holidays and vacations—and always at home, but we made the most of it, especially with our curious minds and exciting books, magazines, and resources we found online. We fell deeper and deeper in love with each other, to the point where even Daddy accepted that I’d be his lover for life, supplanting Mom and keeping things nice and safe within the family. Other girls hitting puberty closer to the normal time started going on about boys in school and which ones were hot, but as far as I was concerned, they were all inexperienced, gangly children compared to my mature, sexy, world-wise, smart Daddy.

“You wouldn’t have been particularly aroused, because my growth slowed down. I got an eeentsy-weeentsy bit more curvy, including my boobs growing, but only filling out D cups to their max, not yet making it over to my trademark size. Daddy found them plenty big enough to play with almost every Thursday, and pleasing Daddy and finding release were all I cared about.

“One night after an incident with a run-away condom wrapper during a particularly wild romp, I asked in our secret text messages whether I ought to go on the birth control pill. He suggested we each research it separately, then share our conclusions on our next date. We concluded that there were too many risks, and that being more careful with the condom wrappers would be good enough. Daddy stowed his big box of condoms in a place readily accessible to him where Mom never, ever looked, which he knew ’cause of how dusty it was from never having been cleaned since we moved in!

“That reminds me: for my 12th. birthday, Mom and Daddy were both home. Together they took me clothes shopping for adult clothes, which is what I wanted. Mom nixed a nice dress with what she considered too much of a plunging neckline, though otherwise she was cool with my choices, including some others I thought she’d also reject. Two evenings later, Daddy told me to look under my bed, after he finished ‘tucking me in’ and was safely back out with Mom, and to keep it quiet. My nipples were hard before he even left; he gave one a quick pinch on his way out, chuckling softly. I got back out of bed and found a plain brown box, no gift wrap. Inside was the plunging neckline dress from the store that Mom rejected! Something fell out and made a soft ‘thunk’. I didn’t know what it was at first, but then I realized it was the dildo vibrator he and I had found online! I was ultra excited and almost came just from holding it and reading the instructions! It was nice and quiet and ohhh did it feel good! Not as good as Daddy, but a nice change of pace from my fingers! It made me sad that I was still too young to do any shopping like that in return for Daddy on his birthday.

“Our romance lasted about 3 years. If I had my way, it would still be going on today, ideally with Mom out of the picture so I could be Daddy’s wife, de-facto if not de-jure. We always remained vigilant and careful, yet given human nature, we became more brazen over time. We pushed the goodnight tuck-in a minute longer every other night, so I could suck Daddy’s cock, at least briefly. Passing each other in the house when we both knew Mom couldn’t see, we’d often momentarily grope each other. If we had a little more time, we’d share a passionate french kiss, with or without feeling each other up. I was doing great in school, in large part due to wanting to be smart enough for Daddy, and due to my very adult sexual needs being acceptably attended to, when so many of my peers were just then having their hormones kick in and going lust-crazy with no acceptable outlet.

“It all came crashing down one Thursday night when Mom came home from Celibate Hag Book Club after only an hour out and walked in on us in the middle of fucking, in what at one time had been her and Daddy’s bed. She went ape-shit, hurling things at Daddy—heavy, breakable things! As soon as he pulled out of me, I leapt up and charged Mom, slamming her against the wall to make her stop. She started going into the ‘My poor baby!’ thing until I shook her and told her that I seduced Daddy three years ago when she stopped giving him sex, and that he didn’t at all want to do it and I made him do it. She called me a pubescent slut and Daddy a pervert, and I screamed that if she hadn’t been such a freakin’ selfish ice cube, maybe none of this would have happened! She slapped me hard, then shoved me away, making me fall over and nearly crack my skull open. Daddy flipped out, slapped her super hard, and threw her onto the bed.

“That was the end of everything good in my life. She called 911 and we scrambled into our clothes. The responding police officers could easily see her facial bruise, but not the one on my back from the fall. Daddy and I knew neither of us could admit the truth of our sexual romance, so we did our best to portray Mom as temporarily insane, and needing restraint. Given Dad’s and my calm manner and the fact that Mom remained hysterical and confrontive, initially it worked: they removed her to a battered women’s shelter and left us at home, forcing all of us into mandatory individual counseling. Once the police left with Mom, Daddy explained that it was all over—not just him and me, but our family. I cried and cried, and he held me in a loving daddy-daughter way. What hurt me the most was that I knew he’d given up: he wasn’t going to try and fight it. He never lied, and even the one he’d just told to the police to keep him from going to jail immediately was already eating him up.

“I cajoled him and pleaded with him, reminding him that slave runners and others had to tell lies for the greater good of humanity. Eventually I persuaded him, and we worked out our plan, which was mostly more of the same: nothing sexual had ever happened between me and him, and Mom was losing her mind; maybe early-onset dementia.

“We couldn’t prove that Mom was crazy—she tested mentally competent, over and over. All too soon I was living alone at home, with Mom still at the battered women’s shelter and Daddy at a men’s shelter. I now know that Daddy was trying to get secret messages to me during our brief supervised meetings to erase the hard drive on the IIcx, but like an idiot I didn’t understand how that would help anything.

“Long story short, the issue went to trial. Mom’s brother was an attorney, who advised the prosecutor to get a search warrant for Daddy’s computer. I know this is what you do for a living, so I’ll say no more: they got the warrant, they took the IIcx, as well as my SE, which didn’t have anything incriminating on it, but truly pissed me off! It was just an invisible folder… nothing encrypted, nothing erased.”

“Wouldn’t have mattered, unless one of you could’ve done a multi-pass D.O.D. secure erase, which wasn’t part of Mac OS until OS X in the early 2000s.”

“So I’m not a total fuck-up who ruined three lives?”

“Not in terms of the computers.”

“Please don’t judge the rest until I’ve finished and we can discuss it.”

He nodded affirmatively, in shock and reeling from everything she was telling him.

“Daddy was charged on I don’t know how many counts of child molestation and pedophilia, since I was crying so hard when they read the verdict. NOBODY LISTENED TO ME when I TOLD them I seduced him! They kept fucking patting me on the head and telling me I’d suffered a ‘horrible fate’ at the hands of my ‘sick, twisted, mentally ill’ father! NOBODY THEN OR SINCE BELIEVES ME! Tell me you believe me, Nate! Tell me! TELL ME! It’s ALL TRUE! TELL ME, PLEASE!” She held him by the shoulders and shook him gently, very careful not to hurt him, nor do anything a reasonable person would construe as violent.

“Deb, It’s OK! It’s OK! Do you promise me that every word you’ve told me since you started your story is the absolute truth?”

“Yes! It IS!”

“Then I believe you! I’ve never heard of this before, but people mature at different ages, and I can easily believe you’ve been sexy since you were eight or whatever and mature before your years. And I know from personal experience that you can seduce nearly anyone, any time. You were fucking hard to resist when you kept after me… which is why you won and I’m here.”

“You really believe me?”

“Yes. Please don’t tell me you made this all up and just gave me the most epic mind-fuck known to humanity!”

“I swear Nate, it’s all true! Every word! You’re the first person who believes me!” She hugged him tightly, backing off slightly out of concern she might bruise him via her extreme passion.

“Did you tell anyone at the time this whole story?”

“YES! The psychotherapist! She listened to every word, the way you did. Except that she concluded that I was in denial to protect Daddy, because no 10-year-old could possibly seduce a grown man of my father’s intelligence without his complicity!”

“Did he have any under-age porn on his Mac?”

“Not that I ever saw! Everyone looked 18 and up, with most of them looking like they were in their early 20s. Oh, I so wanted to be his lover when I was that age, to give Daddy what he wanted—what he deserved!”

“You do know that most children don’t love either of their parents as much as you love your father, don’t you?”

Deb immediately grew defensive, “Daddy’s special! Don’t say bad things about Daddy!”

“I’m not saying bad things about your Daddy—nor you! I’m only pointing out that I’ve never heard of anyone being as romantically/sexually attached to a parent as you are to your father. He sounds like a great man, and it would be my honor to meet him someday.”

Tears started dribbling out of Deb’s eyes.

“Girlfriend, shouldn’t we go to bed? We’ve been through a metric fuck-ton of intense stuff over the past few hours. Since I’ll be here tomorrow and apparently forever more unless/until you tell me otherwise, we’ve got all of daylight today, all of tomorrow, and every evening this coming week—if it won’t screw with our jobs—to continue the discussion. I know I have questions, even if you’re done.”

“I’m not done. Let’s go to bed and sleep until we can’t, then have some food and pick it up from there.”