First Orgasm With "Daddy"

I turned to her and, through the tears, sobbed, "Rachel, I'm so very sorry for you. I'll never abandon you, Honey!" Of course, she was crying also and I placed my arms around her and held her face against my chest. I wanted to never let go of her and I wanted to protect her from the world for the rest of my life. We stood there for minutes, just holding each other and crying.

It sounds like a cliché but it is true; the next few days were a blur. We notified Sarah's family and made funeral arrangements. The medical examiner did an autopsy that confirmed that Sarah died due to an overdose of sleeping pills. We attended a funeral that was awkward for everyone. What do you say to a 41 year-old man whose wife committed suicide because she was mentally ill? Do you say 'well, at least she's not suffering,' or 'she's in a better place now,' or something else equally ludicrous? What do you say to an innocent 18 year old girl who has been abandoned first by her biological father and then by her mother (you understand, don't you, that – for the survivors – having a loved one commit suicide is just like having the loved one abandon you?)

I had a tremendous amount of accumulated personal leave at work so I took off two weeks after the funeral. Rachel had not yet found a summer job (Sarah always had some reason or excuse for not being able to help Rachel apply for a job) so that was convenient. Rachel and I stayed at home and we spent some time going through her mother's possession, packing the few things that Rachel wanted to keep and donating the remainder to charity.

We spent some time talking. Rachel finally expressed some concern that I wouldn't want her to stay with me, because she wasn't my daughter. I put the lid on that rumor immediately. Rachel didn't want to start college in the fall. I told her that I understood and that she could postpone it for one semester but, then, I expected her to begin college. She agreed to that plan, so we called the college to confirm that she could do that and to confirm that they would hold the scholarship for her.

During the first few days, we packed and sorted through things during the day and we sat and watched movies at night. I rented a bunch of comedies, not because I thought that I could get Rachel to laugh very quickly, but because I just wanted to avoid any movies that might have any type of tragedy, and especially movies that contained any portrayals of death. Rachel would sit on the sofa beside me and lean her head against my shoulder. Sometimes she fell asleep like that and I would eventually wake her and send her to bed.

When we weren't keeping busy, we talked about Sarah. Now that Sarah was gone, Rachel confided more in me. About a week after the funeral, she confessed to me that she held some resentments towards her mother. "Daddy, Momma didn't want me to grow up and . . . I feel like, uh . . . when I see other kids my age, I feel like . . . I don't fit in, you know, like I don't belong . . . and . . . sometimes . . . especially when I'm around boys . . . Daddy, I don't know the first thing about boys. You know, when I was with Hank and those other guys, nothin' happened, you know, mainly because I didn't want anything to happen, but . . . I was scared, too. Momma never told me anything about, uh . . . you know . . . s . . . e . . . x, and I just feel so totally scared when I think about, you know, like a boy might expect me to do somethin' more than just hold hands and give him a goodnight kiss, and . . . I don't know why I'm talkin' so much, but . . . Daddy, I've gotta depend on you now and . . . I hope maybe you can help me with some things that Momma didn't."

"Oh, Honey, I'll always be here for you, and of course I'll help you with whatever you need help with," I immediately responded. "You know, that means you have to talk to me and not hold anything back from me. You've gotta trust me and you've gotta know that I am not your momma; I'm not gonna judge you or condemn you if you do something that your mother wouldn't have approved."

Rachel seemed relieved to hear my promise about not judging her. I was curious about what she wanted from me but I decided to let the issue rest. I knew that she would bring the subject up again within the next few days.

* * *

The next day, we were in the car, coming back from lunch at a diner, talking about a variety of topics. Suddenly, Rachel returned to the subject from the previous day, as if she had been waiting for an opportunity to resume the discussion.

"Daddy, what we were talkin' about yesterday . . . you just don't know how much I've felt lost with boys and understanding all that stuff. I don't even know enough to know what I don't know. . . . Does that make sense? But, uh, it's real important to me, so, uh, if you can help me, you know I'll trust you . . . always! . . . So . . . can you help me?"

"We'll start tonight, after dinner, okay?"

"Sure, Daddy. You're the best!" she said with a smile and a sense of relief in her voice.

I had no idea how naïve she was about things but, whatever she needed to know, I knew I'd try to help her. Part of me was concerned about being embarrassed or uncomfortable talking to Rachel about sex and part of me was concerned because I also knew that I was looking forward to talking to this cute 18 year-old girl about sex. It was confusing to me but I felt that I had no choice but to follow through on my promise.

That night, after dinner, I suggested that we sit in the living room and talk.

"Rachel, Honey, I have no idea what you've learned about sex and what you haven't. I don't wanna treat you like you're a little child who knows absolutely nothin' but I also don't wanna assume that you know somethin' that maybe you don't. So . . . the first thing is that you must be absolutely 100% comfortable talking about sex. Like, uh, the words we use, ya know, body parts. Some people call things by their medical names and some people use slang words. Your Momma probably talked to you about vaginas and penises but that's not the way most people talk. What do you call your vagina?"

"Well, uh . . . I guess I just call it my vagina," she said, obviously sounding embarrassed.

"Okay, Honey, well . . . do you ever call it anything else? Do your friends call it somethin' else?"

"Oh, yeah, well . . . you won't be mad if I use dirty words, will ya?"

"Of course not. Whatever you call it, it's not dirty. Okay?" I reassured her.

"Okay. Sometimes I call it my 'pussy,'" she said with an impish grin.

"Okay. So now, we've established the fact that you have a pussy. Very good. I'll bet it's a real nice pussy, too. So, what about the little button-kinda thing at the top of your pussy?"

"You mean my clitoris?" she beamed with pride for knowing its name.

"Yeah, but most people just call it a clit," I clarified. "And what do you call a man's thing?"

"You mean his penis?" she offered.

"Yeah, exactly. But what do you call a man's penis, other than 'penis?'"

"Well, some of the girls call it a dick," she said with a little less embarrassment.

"Okay. So, now, we have dicks and pussies. There's a whole lot more to sex than that but that's the start. Now, when you started having your period, what did your mom tell you about that?" I asked.

"Wait, Daddy, aren't we supposed to, like, use each word in a sentence, you know like you said 'Rachel has a pussy?'"

"Okay," I responded.

"Well, then, my daddy has a dick and I'll bet it's a real nice dick," she said with a grin on her face. I guess talking to your daddy about his dick is a taboo thing for an 18 year old girl and she was feeling a little devilish for having used the opportunity.

"Okay, okay, that's enough about my, uh . . . dick. What do you understand about your period?"

"Well," Rachel responded, "Mom said the blood was from my body getting an egg ready for a man's sperm and when they got together, I'd be pregnant. And she also told me that my boobs would start growing and I'd get hair on my vagina . . . I mean on my pussy."

"Okay, so you're boobs have grown . . ." I began but she quickly interrupted.

"Yeah, but not much. I still look like a little girl." From her tone of voice, I could tell that this was a point of concern for Rachel.

"Honey, what is your bra size now?" I asked.

"34B."

"Well, of course, I haven't seen your boobs themselves, not in person, but I have seen how you fill out a tee shirt, and you don't really look like a little girl. You know, your mom was a 34B, too, and that might be as big as you get but you shouldn't worry about that. You probably think that guys all want girls with big tits but that's not true. Some guys – hey, I'm one of 'em - like smaller boobs and I'm guessing that there are a bunch of guys who would love to spend some time with your boobs!"

"Well, I don't know about that. The only people who've ever seen my boobs are me and the doctor."

"Well, Honey, one of the things that you need to do to grow up sexually is to be comfortable with your body. You've got to be okay with seeing yourself naked in a mirror and, when you find a partner to have a sexual relationship with, you've gotta be comfortable with your partner seeing you naked."

"Daddy, I couldn't take off all my clothes in front of another person!" she exclaimed.

"Honey, when a man and a woman have sex, or make love, they are both naked and they are both comfortable with the other one seeing them naked, even up close, and that means every single square inch of their bodies. They look forward to the times that they know they'll be together naked. Well . . . that's something we'll need to work on sooner or later. I mean . . . I'm not sayin' that I want you to run around the house naked when I'm here, but . . . as long as you're uptight about me seeing you in your undies, you'll never get over all your nervousness about this stuff. If you're comfortable being in your undies with me, then you can get comfortable bein' naked when you're here alone, and then you'll be ready to get comfortable with someone else seein' more of you. Does that make sense, Honey?" I asked.

"Yes, Daddy. If you wanna see me in my undies, I'll get used to it," she said teasingly.

I gave her a little bit of a scowl that told her I didn't like being accused of being a perv.

"Okay, okay. If I get more comfortable being only partly dressed around you, then I'll get more comfortable around somebody when the time is right," she recited.

"That's right, Honey," I confirmed for her. "Do you remember when you were little and you used to run around the house in just your panties and a tee shirt? Did that feel weird to you?"

"No, Daddy. That felt perfectly natural," she replied. " I even ran around in just my panties with no top, sometimes."

"Okay. You need to start doing that again around the house . . . but not the topless part. Let's start right now. I want you to go to your room and take off all your clothes except your panties and then put on a tee shirt with no bra. Then put on a bathrobe and come back in here."

She looked at me as if I had just asked her to cut off her right arm but she also didn't look like she was going to refuse my suggestion. She got up and went into her bedroom, closed the door, and came back out wearing a bathrobe that was tied at the waist.

"Okay, are you ready to take off the robe?" I asked.

"No . . . not really," she offered timidly.

"Okay then. Keep standing up." She did as she was told. "You trust me, don't you?"

"Of course, Daddy," she replied.

"Okay, I'm gonna turn off the lights," I said as I reached for the light switch. As soon as the lights were off, I returned to stand behind her. "Now, I want you to untie your robe and let it hang open in the front." Like a good little girl, she did what she was told and I could tell that the robe had fallen open in the front.

"Now I want you to close your eyes," I said, "and I'm gonna walk around you."

"Okay. They're closed," she said.

As I circled Rachel, there was enough light for me to see that she had followed my instructions and I had a partial view of her panties. They looked like plain white cotton panties and I thought that I could see the outline of her pussy lips through the panties, what some would call a camel toe. I felt my man meat start to get a little restless but then I returned to stand behind her.

"When I walked around you, there was still enough light for me to see you pretty clearly and you look like a cute girl. Rachel, you have nothing to be embarrassed about; I'll bet there are thousands of guys who would like to be here seeing you in your panties. Now . . . how're you feelin'?"

"A little funny but I'm okay, I guess," was her weak reply.

"If you're okay with it, I'm gonna turn the lights back on. Now, you still keep your eyes closed," I instructed her.

Again, I walked around her and, this time, the camel toe was unmistakable. I felt some movement in my britches and I knew that this was going to be difficult for me, too.

"Are you still okay?" I asked only to reassure her that I was concerned for her comfort.

"Yes, Daddy. What now?"

"Now, I want you to take off your robe, okay?"

"Okay, but can you turn the light back off?" she asked.

"Sure," I said as I reached over to turn off the light again. As before, I returned to stand behind her as I said, "okay, Honey. The light's off."

She reached up and pulled the robe from her shoulders and let it slowly fall to the floor. I assume that she did it slowly because of being self-conscious but it wasn't much different than what a good stripper would have done. I reached down and picked up her robe and draped it across the back of the sofa.

"Now close your eyes and I'm gonna walk around you again. What I'm trying to do is to gradually get you used to me seeing you so that you'll be comfortable walkin' around the house or sittin' around dressed like this. You understand, don't you?"

"Yes, Daddy," she answered.

"You don't think this is weird, do ya, 'cause if you do, we don't hafta do this," I offered. I didn't want her thinking I was just some sort of perv wanting to see her in her panties.

"No, you're right Daddy, I hafta get over this being afraid and I guess this is the way to do it," she reassured me.

She was wearing bikini panties. They were very plain white cotton panties but they were fit snuggly and revealed the contours of her delicious body. Her ass was small and tight and I couldn't see an ounce of any leftover baby fat on her ass or legs. As I walked around her, I again stared at her cameltoe but not too long or I'd have a real boner in my pants.

"Now, I'm gonna turn the light back on," I said as I flipped the switch. As soon as my eyes adjusted to the brightness and I could clearly see, I felt my heart skip a beat. I had never adopted Rachel and, with her mother gone, we weren't related by marriage either, but . . . still . . . she was like a daughter to me, so I wasn't supposed to feel the way I was feeling. I felt like I was on fire with desire for her body.

I wanted to see Rachel naked and I wanted to be inside her. I wanted to suck on her little nipples and I wanted to lick on her pussy. I wanted her as desperately as I had wanted her mother so many years earlier.

"Let's sit down," I said and we both sat down on the sofa, me on one end and her to my left, towards the other end, but not too far apart. "How are you feelin' now?" I asked.

"Okay," she said lamely.

"No, what I mean is . . . what are you feelin'?" I explained.

"Well, I feel kinda nervous, like . . . maybe you're gonna see my panties and kinda see what I look like down there, and wouldn't that be bad!" she said.

"Honey, that was a very good job of tellin' me what you feel. Now, let me answer your questions. I did see your panties and they're kinda tight on you so I did sorta see what you look like down there – without really seein' it - and, the truth is that, with your panties on, you look just like most other girls look. And I'm guessin that if you weren't wearin' panties, you'd look like other girls look down there, and . . . you'd probably get any guy real worked up."

"Daddy, Mom always said that I wasn't supposed to let boys see me down there so that's the way I've always been."

"Okay, Honey, you need to understand that different people have different ideas about their bodies and modesty. Your mom was real uptight when it came to sex and her body and she passed those attitudes on to you without even tryin'. But if you keep those attitudes, you'll always be uncomfortable about sex. Now . . . I'm not sayin' that you're supposed to let everybody see you naked, and . . . I'm not sayin' that you're supposed to wear short skirts and let every guy in town see your panties, but . . . around the house when nobody else is here, or when you meet somebody special, you've gotta be comfortable with people seein' your body. If it's somebody who loves you, what if they do see you? What if they do look at your panties and see the outline of your pussy, so what?"

"Well . . . uh . . .." Rachel obviously had no rational reply.

"Turn around in your seat so your feet are both up on the sofa," I instructed her as I did the same. "Now, put your left foot down on the floor and push your knees apart."

She slowly responded to my directions. As her knees parted, her panties were pulled tight across her pelvis and the outline of her pussy lips showed through the cotton fabric that was concealing her most feminine place.

"Now, I'm lookin' at your panties. I'm starin' at your panties. I can see your pussy lips showing through your panties and I'm guessin that means that you shave your hair down there . . .."

"Yes, Daddy," she admitted meekly.

"Okay, now, I'm still starin' and what's happenin'? Is the sky falling down? Are you havin' a heart attack?" I demanded.

"No, but I feel like I hafta pee," she said. "Well, not exactly like I hafta pee, but I feel like I'm leakin' somethin' wet down there."

As she said that, I could, in fact, see a wet spot forming in the crotch of her panties. "Well, if you are leakin' pee, then that means that this is getting' you aroused and, when a girl gets aroused, her body produces a fluid that helps her to have sex with a guy. So now I know that this is getting' you aroused and you're probably embarrassed about that, but so what? I'm kinda aroused, too; it's just the way our bodies react. It's perfectly normal."

"Okay, Daddy, I get it, and you can stop starin' at me," she joked, obviously needing to reduce the tension in the room. I laughed and then she laughed.

"Honey, your mom isn't here and it's up to us to make the rules. Your mom would have freaked out if either of us walked around in our underwear but she's not here and it's just us. I'm comfortable with you walkin' around in your underwear and, if you're okay with the idea, I'm comfortable with doin' the same. And I want you to understand that, the more of this initial stuff you get over, the easier everything else will be."

"So you want me to walk around in my underwear?" she asked. I think she was just looking for an opportunity to give me a hard time.

"Actually, I don't care if you walk around absolutely naked, take a shower with the bathroom door open, sleep naked with the bedroom door wide open, as long as you aren't uncomfortable . . . and as long as nobody else is here. On the other hand, you can be fully dressed every time you leave your bedroom, but it's a lot more work, and . . . you'll never get over your inhibitions if that's what you do."

"Wow, Daddy, that's so different what everything Mom taught me, but it makes sense. You know, it might take some time, but . . . we'll see."

"Honey, there are families that are absolutely comfortable with being totally naked around each other and there are families that never see each other except fully dressed. Neither way is right or wrong; it's just what you're comfortable with. Most folks are somewhere in the middle. I'm just tellin' you that if you want your life to be different, you've gotta do somethin' different."