Birds, Bees and Booze Ch. 01

"...but I can get used to it."

I blinked and refocused on her. "What?"

"I said, it's got kind of a funny taste, but I think I can get used to it." As if to prove it, she took another sip of her scotch.

I nodded in approval then went to sit next to her on the couch. As I sat, Cait seemed to lean away from me slightly, but it was only so she could untuck her legs and drape them over mind. She leaned back on a pillow and watched me, waiting to hear what I wanted to talk about. I glanced down at my glass to gather my thoughts. In a moment the glass moved out of focus as Cait's legs came into clarity. They were smooth and shapely, and I felt their warmth against my thighs through my jeans. Instinctively, as a caring father, I put one hand on her knee. It was as if I was touching my daughter for the very first time. Like I was touching a young, beautiful and sexy young woman for the first time.

I took another sip of scotch and said, "Cait, you know that college life will be unlike anything you've ever experienced in your life, right?"

"Of course, Daddy."

"That's one of the reasons we're giving you permission to drink tonight. And just you know, we can continue to drink until we both get nice and drunk."

She chuckled, "I think I'm halfway there already."

"Me too," I admitted. "But the point is, it's our way of helping you get one curiosity out of your system. No matter what kinds of rules of prohibition they try to put in place on college campuses, there is always booze. You'll go to a party and before you know it perfect strangers are shoving drinks in your hand left and right. You'll be tempted to fit in, to show that you can live a little..."

Cait leaned forward a little and place her hand over mine that was still on her knee. "Daddy, you don't have to worry about that, I promise. I intend to have fun in college, but I have no interest in going crazy like that."

"Good," I said. "But...but there are other things we're worried about."

"Like what?"

I patted her knee and took another sip. "Well, between homeschooling and an all-girls boarding academy, you...haven't really been around boys all that much."

Cait frowned. "Boys...I've heard of those creatures." When I glanced at her she broke out in a huge grin. "Jeez, Daddy, I think I can handle being in a classroom with both girls and boys now!"

"It's not the boys in the classroom your mother are and I are worried about, Cait. It's the boys in the dorm...in the quad...in the—well, in whatever social activities you do outside of class."

"What are you trying to say?" she asked. "I'm not supposed to interact with boys at all?"

"No, of course not," I said. "You can obviously interact with boys; it's just that your 'interactions' with them are likely to lead to activities other than conversation."

"Like what?" she asked simply. I looked at her. She studied my face for a moment, then her own took on a look of surprise and then mirth. She gave a quick giggle and said, "Oh my god, Daddy, are you trying to give me the Sex Talk?"

"Well..."

She laughed openly and straightened, swinging her legs from my lap, barely giving me time to clear them with my glass. As if suddenly a seasoned drinker, Cait gulped down the last of her scotch, set her glass down on the coffee table, then swung the other direction, into me, clutching my arm and side and stifling her giggles between my shoulder and the couch.

Her amusement was contagious, and I found myself grinning, but I managed to clear my throat and say, "Honey, I'm serious."

She looked up at me and wiped away a tear from her eye, still coming down from her giggles. "I'm sorry, Daddy, but this is just so cute."

"I'm sorry?"

"I mean, it's so cute watching you try to work up the courage to talk to me about that. Mom must have put you up to this, you poor thing."

I shrugged, taking another sip. "Would you rather be having this conversation with your mom?"

"Oh no," Cait insisted. "She'd be taking this way, way too seriously, and she'd probably just want to scare me with the threat of STDs or something."

"Well," I said, "that is part of what we should be discussing."

Cait's growing inebriation seemed to be causing her to exaggerate her emotions and movement. With sort of a sideways jump, she scooted her body directly next to mine so we were sitting side-by-side, touching shoulders, hips and legs, completely to one side of the couch. She reached up and turned my head toward her by the chin. She was giving my a teasingly serious look, but it was hard for her to keep down her grin.

"Daddy," she said, trying to sound serious though her eyes still twinkled with mirth. "I seriously hope you don't think that by now I know everything about the 'Birds and the Bees.' You can't possibly be worried that I know nothing about how babies are made or what the dangers of promiscuous sex are!"

"Well—"

"I may have been home schooled, Daddy, but I didn't grow up in a cave!"

We looked at each other and both broke out into open laughter at the absurdity of it all. I leaned forward a bit and kissed her forehead. I said, "Okay, I don't think we need to have a full-on biological lesson about the mechanics of mating. Obviously. But I guess you should look at this as an opportunity to ask your old man anything else you might be curious about when it comes to sex."

"Like what?" she asked. I suppose she was looking for context.

"Maybe you have questions about sexuality in general? Maybe you're curious about what boys think about when it comes to this sort of stuff. Maybe there's something about sex you've always wanted to know but couldn't find in books, or online."

"Hmm..." She frowned in conversation, glancing down at the drink in my hand. She reached out and took the glass, then she surprised me by tilting it back and swallowing the last gulp of scotch I had in it. She screwed her face up a little, surprised no doubt that my straight whiskey was more potent than her previous iced-down version. I chuckled at her, then took the glass and set it aside.

"Don't make fun," she said. Her buzz was clearly kicking in. Her words sounded just a bit thicker. "You said I can get drunk, and I plan to!"

Smiling, I said, "And I won't stop you."

"But only on one condition," she said.

"Name it."

"You get drunk with me!" We both laughed. "I'm serious! If you get to see what a fool I become when drunk, I get to see it in you too!"

"Don't move." I said. Playfully, she actually froze in place as I got up, grabbed the bottle of Glenfiddich then sat back in my original spot next to her. I re-filled both of our glasses with straight scotch, handed her a glass, and as we clinked I said, "Here's to being foolish." After a couple of sips I put my free arm around her. She leaned further into me, resting her head on my shoulder when not sipping her drink. We were silent for a few more minutes, and I began to wonder if my poor daughter had already overdone it. Was she about to pass out?

But she said, "You really will answer any question I ask? Now matter how graphic?"

"That's the deal," I said.

"Hmm..." She pondered again. "Then let's jump right into the deep end." She took another sip then said, "Do boys really get 'blue balls?'"

I took my own moment to take a sip. It was a graphic question, yes, but certainly something I could handle. I resolved myself to remain as neutral and objective as possible. If I acted any other way I was afraid she'd shy away from asking further questions.

With a perfectly calm tone I said, "That phenomenon does exist, yes."

"I read that boys get blue balls if they've been sexually stimulated for a long time but haven't been able to, you know..."

"You can say the word," I encouraged.

"Cum."

I glanced at her. I don't know why I was expecting her to say something more like "climax" or even "ejaculate." But the slang of "cum" would work just fine.

I said, "It can become very uncomfortable for a boy if steady sexual stimulation takes place for a long time without him being able to release...to cum."

"Does it really hurt?"

"It can be very uncomfortable, but it's never really as bad as a boy might make it out to be. It's just accentuated by his eagerness to cum."

"So would it be mean to do that to a boy? I mean, if I end up making out with a boy for a long time, and there's a lot of heavy petting, but I don't want to go all the way, is it mean to stop?"

"Absolutely not. You should never go further than you want. The boy will probably beg you to help him or something, but he'll get over it in a few minutes if you insist on stopping."

"Help him...you mean jerk him off? Give him a blowjob?"

I swallowed and realized my mouth was getting very dry. I cleared my throat and said, "That might be something the boy asks for, but again, you don't have to do anything you don't want to. And this sort of gets into the heart of the 'Sex Talk" I wanted to give you. The boy may try every trick in the book to convince you to pleasure him, but you don't have to do it."

"Unless I want to," she said simply.

"Unless you want to," I confirmed, since that was quite true.

"I suppose if I liked the boy, but didn't want to go all the way with him, I would do it. Give him a hand job, I guess."

"That would be very generous of you," I said, "but if you want to make it clear that you're not ready for the next step, better to let him calm down on his own."

She giggled. "Since he would probably just run home and masturbate," she said.

I giggled too. "Very likely."

"Do guys really masturbate as often as most reports say?"

"That would have to be a yes."

"How often do you masturbate, Daddy?"

I nearly dropped my glass. I carefully set it aside and looked at her. She glanced up at me.

"I'm sorry, Daddy, but you said I could ask you anything."

"I did, pumpkin, and you can. I was just surprised that the question was about me personally, not in general."

"Oh, I see." She paused. "So, does that mean you won't answer it?"

I tried to maintain my neutral tone. "Yes, I'll answer it, honey." I actually had to think about it for a moment. "I'd say I probably do it a few times a month, maybe slightly more often."

"Really? I read that lots of guys jerk off several times per week!"

"That's probably true in general, but I'm fortunate enough to be married to a woman who meets my sexual needs."

Cait turned slightly to look at my again. As she did so her elbow leaned down on my thigh. It seemed to be only then that I sensed my penis was not entirely flaccid.

She asked, "You have lots of sex with Mom?"

"Yes."

"How often?"

"About two or three times a week."

"Wow. Is that a regular amount?"

"Actually, I'd say that's pretty frequent for a couple who's been married as long as your mother and me. We both enjoy sex very much."

"So why do you still masturbate?"

I smiled at her. "Because it feels good."

"You'd rather use your hand than Mom's body?"

"I didn't say I prefer my hand, only that it feels good. Sometimes I'm in the mood and Mom's not around...so, I have a little fun with myself."

"Will you masturbate this weekend since Mom's not here to take care of you?"

For some reason, thinking about when I could next masturbate got the blood rushing, and I felt an erection really coming on. I was worried my daughter would feel it if her elbow moved slightly in the wrong direction. What would she think about her father having an erection at this precise moment? It was a scary thought.

I maintained my policy of perfect honesty and said, "Yes, I'm sure I will masturbate."

Cait lifted her elbow off of my thigh, which was good because it had been dangerously close to the stiffness in my crotch. But she did this only so that she could lean back and rest her head on my lap.

"Sorry, Daddy, I'm getting a little dizzy from the booze."

I swallowed, mouth dry again, and tried not to react as she got comfortable. She had been sitting on my right, so as she laid down on my lap her body was now lying perpendicularly to me, and her right ear was now closer to my crotch as her elbow had been.

"It's okay, my dear," I said, hearing the thickness now in my own voice.

Picking right back up where she'd left off, she asked, "Do boys think it's weird if girls masturbate too?"

"No, I don't think so."

"Good, because I like to masturbate."

"That's good," I found myself saying automatically. "It's healthy. It's normal."

Looking up at me, she said, "I'm glad you think so, Daddy."

Gently, I reached out and stroked a lock of her soft hair from her face. She smiled at me.

She asked, "Do you think you will masturbate when you go to bed tonight?

"Probably."

"I probably will too." Then she giggled. "How funny is that image: you and me both going to bed and masturbating!"

My cock throbbed and I wasn't sure if she'd felt it.

"That would indeed be funny," I managed to say.

She giggled some more. "We could leave our doors open and see who could cum the loudest!"

I laughed. "What would the neighbors think?"

"I would just shout, 'Don't be alarmed! It's just two people masturbating because it's healthy and natural!"

"You little smartass!" I chided mockingly, and without thinking I reached down to her belly and started tickling her, something I hadn't done since she was a very young girl. Cait immediately began squealing and squirming, and as I tickled her I could very clearly feel the back of her head pressing back against my erection. Because of the sudden movement and the fact that my daughter was now clearly drunk, I don't think she really knew what was bumping up against her head, but in any case it was short-lived because she began "fighting" back, launching a major tickling counter-offensive.

The tickling became epic and we were all over the couch before tumbling onto the floor. The whole time she was still teasing about who would be the better masturbator: "I bet I can cum louder than you, Daddy!" And she started doing her best recreation of Meg Ryan from When Sally Met Harry.

Never one to give up on a challenge I shouted back, "I'll cum like a goddamned animal! I'll blow a hole in the ceiling!" I began bellowing and howling in my own pathetic attempt of an exaggerated orgasm.

As we rolled around the floor the tickling continued. We were both red in the face, tears streaming, mock orgasms being verbalized at the top of our lungs. At one point I sat up on my knees and raised my hands like claws, indicating I was going in for the Double-Sided Rib Tickle Attack. Cait screamed in mock horror and curled up into a defensive ball as my hands came down. I had expected that my hands would collide with her back, but at the last second she twisted the other way, and in the very next second my two hands were very firmly clutching my own daughter's sizable breasts.

We froze.

I stared at her. She stared at me.

To my amazement, however, Cait in her drunken haze seemed to consider this all still part of the game. She burst out laughing and said, "Oh, yeah? Two can play at that game!" And with that, she freed one of her own hands and very firmly and directly gripped my crotch, catching much of my shaft in her little hand.

We froze again. And not just because of surprise this time. It was because I was fully erect.

And she knew it.

The laughter and the giggling died instantly. The room became very quiet save for Frank Sinatra very ironically crooning the lyric "Why don't you take all of me" over the sound system.

Still gripping me, Cait whispered, "Daddy...you're...you're hard."

I gulped, and I felt like my stomach was turning inside-out. We had gone too far.

"Cait," I stammered," honey...I'm sorry."

"Are you hard because of...because of me?"

I looked into her beautiful innocent face. "It's the situation, I guess," I said in a weak voice. "I mean...lots of sex talk..." I trailed off, pathetically unable to think of anything else to say.

Cait broke her gaze from mine only to review our current situation. Amazingly, I was still gripping her breasts. She was still gripping me crotch.

I saw her lips start moving, but I couldn't hear her.

"What is it, honey?" I asked.

Her whisper got just a little louder, barely audible: "I want to see it."

"See what, honey?"

She answered by giving my cock a distinct squeeze. I felt my eyes go wide, my jaw slacken, until I was staring at her open-mouthed.

"May I see it?" she asked, more directly this time.

Every fiber of logic in my brain fired up in full Red Alert, telling me as a father to get up and walk out of this room right now. Right goddamned now. But there was also the little boy, the little boy with blue balls who was desperate to cum.

"Do you know what you're asking?" I said, gaining a degree of authority back in my voice.

She didn't hesitate: "Yes."

I straightened up again, and only as I did this did I finally release my grip from Cait's breasts. They swayed and wiggled back into a resting position, still pert and sizable despite her being on her back. Cait let out a little sigh as I released my grip.

I was on my knees again. I straightened a little more and Cait's grip on my crotch went away. She stared at me, and I stared at her. It was if our minds were locked together, melding into a commitment that would change the very scope of our existence together. I almost didn't even register my own hands reaching for my belt. It came off smoothly, and I was unbuttoned in the next instant. It was at the sound of my zipper that my daughter finally broke her gaze from my face and toward my crotch.

I pushed my jeans down a little, revealing my black brief underwear, clearly bulging with my engorged cock. Here I paused one more time. There was still a point, right now, to back away. She still hadn't seen anything.

"Please," she whispered.

Oh Jesus...

I put my thumbs into the waistband of my briefs and began to pull down...down and a little further until now very clearly before my own daughter I had just exposed the purple head of my stiff penis. Cait never took her eyes off it, and I moved my own gaze from her face to her chest. Her large breasts, hardened nipples clearly defined under the soft cotton, were moving up and down faster as her breathing quickened.

I continued to pull down, down a little further, and a moment later I could feel the slightly cool air of the room making contact with the full shaft of my erect cock, as well as the full swollen roundness of my testicles. I dropped my hands to give my girl full visual access from the thing that had helped conceive her 18 years ago.

"Oh my god," she said softly. "It's beautiful, Daddy!"

It was at this point, my good friend, that I lost all lingering sense of control, and I was suddenly on top of my daughter, clutching her tightly and crushing my mouth to hers. Despite her inexperience and virginity at any form of lovemaking her instincts as a woman took over, and for several minutes we made out like two of the horniest most desperate lovers in the world. It took only a few minutes for Cait to figure out how we could best intertwine our tongues, and as I clutched and kneaded her breasts for the second time I felt her hands roam lower down on me. With my pants and underwear down around the middle of my thighs she had unfettered access to my ass, cock and balls, and she explored vivaciously.

The whole time, in those brief half-seconds where our mouths were not closed around each other, I could hear her gasp, "Oh, Daddy! Oh, Daddy!"

Ever eager to have my way with this girl, complete animal instincts taking over, I leaned up again, gripped the edges of her flimsy tank-top, and ripped it into two large shreds. My girl's young breasts seem to explode from under the material, and with only the slightest pause to take in their massive beauty, I dove in with my mouth, taking her hard nipples between my teeth and drawing yelps of astonished pleasure from Cait.