Emily Untethered Ch. 01

"I don't think you can go any more. You know sweetie, I don't remember you being that flexible. You've been working on it, I guess?"

She giggled and shrugged. "Part of what happened in California."

"Aaaand that's enough of that line of questioning," he said, releasing her and turning for the door as she giggled.

"Okay, that's good," she said and pushed herself up. "Thanks, Daddy."

He nodded before turning and heading downstairs to grab another beer. He heard her padding softly after him and turned. "Don't want to shower?"

She shook her head as he turned to continue, turning into the kitchen to grab the beer.

"I'll shower later," she said.

*****

She knew after telling the story that she was going to be telling him that she would have to masturbate. "No reason to take two showers," she thought.

He sat on one end of the couch, facing her slightly, a beer in his hand.

"Okay," he said. "So what happened next? Can you do me a favor and skip the sex stuff?"

She thought for a second. "Well, Daddy," she said. "It's not that easy. It's the sex stuff that's bothering me."

He grimaced. "I was afraid of that."

"I don't want to hurt you, or anything," she said. "I don't want to tell you anything you don't want to hear."

He shook his head. "I'm here for you," he said, taking a draw on his beer.

She cleared her throat and thought back. "What was the last thing I told you?" she asked.

He looked at her pointedly. "I'm not repeating it," he said. "This conversation is weird enough."

"Well, did I tell you I was jerking him off?"

He sprayed beer all over the couch and coffee table, coughing and sputtering while she laughed.

"Jesus Emily!" he said. "Don't just throw stuff out there at me like that! You have to build up to those."

She finally stopped laughing and retrieved some paper towels and began to clean up the mess before returning to her seat.

"Okay, a quick recap then. So Shawn and I are fooling around. It started out as kissing, and then I let him play with my boobs and then I let him suck on my nipples. He would ask if I wanted to have sex, but I wasn't ready so I made him wait to make out again. He finally learned to stop asking for the big stuff, and just asked me to do the little things."

Her dad was nodding, seemingly okay so far.

"He told me that he just wanted to feel good, and to make me feel good. When I started jerking him off, I could tell that he enjoyed it, and that I really had complete control over him. He was nearly as inexperienced as I was. We spent a lot of time in my little bitty dorm room and in his apartment next to campus. I mean I'm only 19, I'm supposed to be young and horny and promiscuous. Right?"

Her dad was doing his best to maintain his composure. "Yeah, I guess," he said. "I mean, your mom and I sure were."

She nodded. "That's what I mean. You guys surely did stuff like this, and I'm sure you were just as devious as Shawn tried to be."

Her dad shrugged. "I don't know about that, I never really had a reason to be devious. Your mom would just..." he trailed off.

Emily had an amused expression on her face. "Yeah, she was a slut even then," she said, drawing a sharp look from him.

"Anyway," he said.

"Anyway," she parroted. "One evening, he winced when I was jerking him off. I'd never had any experience doing this so I didn't know that a lot of friction was a bad thing. I mean, he kept saying to squeeze him harder and jerk faster, but then suddenly I was hurting him. I guess there's a fine line between pain and pleasure, for guys at least."

She looked over at him. He seemed to be adjusting adequately, at least he didn't have a terrified look on his face.

"He told me that if I didn't want to put him in my mouth," she started but stopped when her dad finished his beer in one gulp and went to get another.

"I can always stop," she said.

Her dad shook his head. "I'm just adjusting to what I'm hearing," he said, holding up his beer.

"He said that if I didn't want to put him in my mouth, that I could at least spit on my hand or use some lube. Looking back, I realize that he had a way of making me feel bad for him. He'd turn over and sulk and I'd give in, or he'd start to get dressed and I'd give in."

"You don't like hurting people, Emily," her dad said.

She shrugged, lost in thought for a second. "Well, he'd started to get dressed and so I decided that it wouldn't hurt if I took him in my mouth. So I did."

He took another drink.

"I think we've talked enough for tonight," she said, an amused expression on her face.

"Me too," he said. "Maybe we don't have to be so descriptive next time."

She shrugged. "It's not like I'm describing how I suck a cock. Not yet at least."

He sprayed beer all over the table again and Emily erupted into a fit of laughter.

"Sorry," she said. "I couldn't resist."

He shook his head, reaching for the roll of paper towels. "I just don't get it. I thought it might be something along these lines that was bothering you. I just never really expected it, I guess. I mean, you and your mother were so... Christian when you were growing up. I mean, I kind of went through the motions for your mother, but I think you could tell that I wasn't really a believer. You and her though, you're more alike that you realize. You've got none of her bad qualities, however, so don't think I'm saying you do. You just look so much like her..."

Emily thought for a second and nodded. "So... does that mean you're disappointed in me?"

He was already waving his hands dismissively as she finished the sentence. "No, no, no, no. That's not what I'm saying. I'm proud of you for just giving it a try way the hell out there in California. What happened is part of going to college, honey. At least I hope it is, as I haven't heard the rest of the story."

"Well, I have a thought about that. Would it be better if I wrote it all down?"

He was quiet for a second, lost in thought. "It would probably be over quicker," he said. "It's just hard for me to think of you as a grown woman that..." he paused, "... has sex."

She nodded. "That settles it then."

He held up a hand as she started to stand. "No, I don't think so. It just doesn't seem right. It feels wrong reading the sexual antics that my daughter wrote for me. I could really use something less pervy. Just give me a little more time to adjust to the thought of my daughter being a grown woman, okay?"

She smiled and stood, leaning over her father and kissing him on the head. He grabbed her then and wrapped her in a hug. "I'm glad you're here with me," he said. "I'm sorry it didn't work out in California."

She smiled and ran a hand through his hair, kissing his forehead and then laying her cheek on it. "I'm right where I belong," she said. She pulled away then as her dad patted her on the back, his long-time signal that the hug was over.

She turned and headed upstairs, kicking the door to her bathroom closed and stripping down. She turned the water on as hot as she could stand and hopped in, showering down before her hand found that magic place between her legs. Soon, her ministrations had her writhing and moaning, her knees buckling as she slid to the floor of her shower.

"Fuck," she thought. "That was nice."

She eventually found the strength to stand and hopped out of the shower, grabbing a few towels and wrapping them around her torso, tucking the end into her cleavage, and wrapping her hair up in the other. After heading to her room and changing, she dried her hair and popped open a book to do a little studying.

After a few hours, she cocked her head, hearing a noise coming from down the hall. Her dad's room door was shut, but she could hear a tell-tale shuffling noise coming from within, and she knew that he must be masturbating.

"Oh, Christine," came his voice from within the room. There was a few moments of silence followed by a disappointed sounding sigh. "Fuck," he said. "Now I can't even do that anymore."

Emily covered her mouth with her hand and listened for a second.

"Yeah, I'm feeling a little weird about this too now," she thought, echoing her dad's statement from earlier and realizing that she was listening to her dad masturbate. She turned and headed for her room again, shutting her door most of the way and then crawling into bed.

*****

John had his dick in his hand, a picture of his ex-wife in the other. He couldn't help but start crying, and tucked his manhood back into his pajama pants.

"She was such a knock-out," he thought, thinking back to when his wife was still around. He'd catch a glimpse of her as she hopped in the shower, or when she woke up in the morning and that would last him for several masturbation sessions.

Now however, whenever he thought of her he just felt unendurable rage or epic sadness. She was gone. She wasn't coming back, no matter how much he wanted her to. He put the picture down and turned over, angrily brushing a tear away. He had nice dreams that night, again. He had Christine back in his arms, his hand moving up to wrap around her torso and her hair blowing softly against his face. She was so warm and soft, and she didn't flinch or swat his hand away when he briefly squeezed her breast. It was such a pleasant dream. He awoke the next morning and was briefly surprised when she wasn't laying there in his arms. Sighing, he turned and slipped on his house shoes and stomped off to the bathroom to piss.

He turned then and looked at the aging face in the mirror. Rubbing his face, he shaved, deodorized, and combed his hair. "Not so bad for forty-two," he said to the face in the mirror.

"How about a little less perving on your daughter?" he asked himself

"Christine is gone. She's not coming back," he said to the mirror. The words stung a little less that time, he decided.

He dressed and then went down stairs, pausing before entering the kitchen for breakfast. "Daughter, not wife," he clarified mentally.

*****

Emily poured a glass of grapefruit juice for her father and yawned, turning and holding it out for him.

"Morning kiddo," he chimed, reaching for the grapefruit juice. "What happened to coffee?"

She finished yawning and shook her head. "Nope, not good for you."

He sighed. "You're trying to kill me and get my life insurance, aren't you?"

She smiled and turned, winking at him. His gaze dropped to her chest and froze for a few seconds, before he cleared his throat and took a long swig of juice. She looked down and swore silently to herself.

"I'm sorry, Daddy," she said, realizing that she was just wearing a sports bra and her pajama bottoms. There was a chill in the air that she hadn't noticed and her nipples were erect, poking out of the constrictive fabric, which just accentuated them more. "I'm used to living alone, and having a boyfriend that liked seeing me in less. It's kind of a habit."

He glanced over again, his eyes glued to her face. "It's not a big deal, honey," he lied.

She frowned and headed to the laundry nook, grabbing a clean shirt from the dryer and throwing it on. They finished breakfast in awkward silence, her father staring intently at his plate.

She'd seen him glance at her before, but everyone in the world did that. It was a biological thing, glancing down at someone's body to gauge them as a person. It wasn't anything intentional, at least most of the time. Her dad had just stared right at her nipples, and been unable to look away. It was totally her fault of course, she should have been wearing a shirt. Things were hard enough on her father without her making them more difficult. She'd slipped into his room again the night before when she heard him call out for her mother again. After quietly climbing in next to him, he wrapped his arm around her and fallen asleep. Sometime during the night, she awoke with his hand gently stroking her breast. She began to extricate herself, but didn't want to wake him up. She let him lay there for a few minutes, gently stroking her left breast until he moved his hand on his own. Biting her lip, she'd gently climbed out of bed and tiptoed back to her own. It hadn't been a sexual thing. He wasn't touching her sexually. She figured he'd been dreaming about her mother again and was thinking that he was grabbing her breasts, and not his daughter's. She sighed.

"Why does life have to be so damn complicated," she thought.

He stood then and smiled at her, albeit awkwardly and thanked her for breakfast.

"Great, now he feels like a pervert," she thought.

Thoroughly irritated with herself, she headed back upstairs and then headed off to school, lost in thought most of the day. He was working at home that day, and was in his office when she got home. She slipped into her yoga shorts and sports bra again, but this time she dropped a shirt over the sports bra before she slipped into the workout/computer room. She entered and saw a brief look of consternation on his face, followed by a smile. "Hey kiddo," he called. "Gonna do some Yoga?"

She nodded and sat down cross-legged, breathing deeply for a few minutes. After a few minutes of that, she opened her eyes and moved into her first position, her face pointing directly at a picture of her mother. That's when it dawned on her. She thought back to their conversation last night. "You just look so much like her..." he'd said. She stood up then and turned to leave.

"Everything okay?" he asked.

She nodded. "I just remembered I'm supposed to meet Dakota for... girl stuff. Can I borrow some money for some clothes?"

He nodded quickly and handed her his wallet. "Whatever you need."

She smiled and reached in, pulling out some cash and tossing it back. "I'll be back later, and I promise I'll behave."

"I know you will," he said, turning back to his computer.

"FUCK," she said loudly, sitting on Dakota's bed twenty minutes later. "No wonder he's been acting weird. Here I am, talking about fucking my old boyfriend and walking around wearing skimpy clothes, meanwhile, his wife, who apparently hasn't been fucking him for years, has just left him, and he can't finish jerking off. So what do I do? I crawl in bed with him to make it even harder on him. More difficult," she corrected.

"Just slow down," Dakota said.

Emily sighed and forced herself to calm down. She could talk a mile a minute when she got worked up.

"Dad wants to help me work through my problems. I told him I'd tell him what they were, and what happened out in California if he really wanted me to, as long as he tells me what happened with mom. Well, it turns out that my mother hasn't been sleeping with him regularly since I was born. God, I hate that bitch."

"This is a really weird conversation, Emily," Dakota said. "Why are you so invested in your Dad's sex life?"

She sighed. "I love my Dad and he's in pain. It's not just his sex life, it's his heart that's been broken. The reason that sex is even in the conversation is my fucking fault," she said, irritation clear in her tone. "Here I am, walking around the house in my pink nightie, or my sports bra and panties and I'm describing what I've been up to in California."

"Yeah... so..." Dakota said. "He's your Dad, he doesn't see you that way."

Emily shook her head. "He said it yesterday, and I remembered it when I saw that picture of her in the computer room. You look just like her, that's what he said."

Dakota looked at her, doubt on her face.

"You remember what my mother looked like. We're the same height, the same hair when it's down, and now since I've filled out, the same damn body!"

Dakota cocked her head, finally figuring out what Emily was saying. "Yeah, you do wear your hair down now."

"When he looks at me, he fucking sees her!"

"Oh," she replied. "Shit."

"Exactly."

They sat quietly for a few seconds before Dakota spoke again. "Well, what are you going to do?"

Emily sighed. "I would say that I was gonna pray about it, but I don't really do that anymore. I'll tell you what though, I'll do anything for my Dad."

"So he looks at you and sees your mom. Is that a bad thing?"

Emily thought for a second. "If it's causing him pain, yes."

"Ah, but you said he was looking at your body. He's not in pain when he's looking at you. He probably remembers the good times. You take him back to a time when he didn't hurt so much. In fact, you are probably the only reason he's doing as well as he is."

She sat back and was lost in thought for a good ten minutes. "I don't hate that he looks at me, or sees me as a grown woman, just that particular grown woman. I fucking hate what she did."

"So, tell him that it's okay to look, if it makes him feel better."

"Dakota!"

"What?"

"I'm gonna not tell my Dad that he can jerk off to me."

"Emily, I didn't mean it like that you sex-crazed lunatic. I'm just saying that it shouldn't make him feel bad if he looks at you and sees a beautiful woman. You are one."

"I'm his daughter," Emily replied.

"Look, in the grand scheme of things, this really isn't that messed up. You've done much more back in California."

"Oh, okay, I'll just go home and walk around naked then."

Dakota rolled her eyes. "I'm just trying to help."

"He already feels like a pervert, that's easy to see. After he looked at my breasts this morning, he was clearly distraught. I've never seen anyone stare so intently at nothing in particular. Now you say I should go home and flaunt my goodies at my own father and let him sink further into despair and madness."

"I never said go flash your Dad. I said that if he takes it upon himself to look at you, and seems to be okay with doing it, then you shouldn't get worked up about it. I wouldn't go home and just pull your titties out. Like you said, you're a reminder of what he used to have."

"You said that."

"Well, it's true."

Emily laid back on the bed and stared at the ceiling.

"You'd do anything for your Dad right? So letting him remember the good old days is a bad thing? He's a good man, Emily. He's been crushed by what she did. You're helping him through that."

She sat up. "When you put it like that..."

Emily turned then and hugged Dakota. "Thanks for letting me vent."

"Any time," the diminutive girl replied.

Emily climbed back into her car and started the drive home.

'Well, clearly he was groping your breast last night, but thought it was your mother's. So, do I wear something skimpy intentionally, or just let him move at his own pace?" She began asking herself questions, hammering out the details of how she was going to proceed.

"I can't be too obvious about it, or he'll know something is up. So I dress normally and let him proceed at his own speed. But wait, he couldn't finish up jerking off last night, so maybe I do need to wear something skimpier."

After a disturbing series of thoughts about whether her mom had left some lingerie, she decided to move slower, and hopefully the jerking off thing would work itself out. She pulled in and headed inside and saw that her dad was sitting on the couch watching TV. A thought suddenly struck her, and she decided to go with it.

"Hey kiddo," he called as she came in. "How was it?" he asked.

She shrugged. "I had to talk to Dakota, about you," she said.

"Me?" he repeated.

Emily nodded. "I need to tell you something so that you don't think I'm insane, or that you're some kind of deviant."

His face tightened nervously.

"I know how much I look like mom," she said. "I don't want you to be embarrassed if you happen to catch yourself looking at me in... a more than fatherly manner."

He cleared his throat and looked back at the TV.

"I'm serious Daddy. I know it's been rough on you, and after your confession that it's been so long since you've had sex, I can understand completely why you stared at my chest this morning. It must have been like mom was standing there today."