The Legacy Pt. 01

That delirious experience was followed by an even greater sensation. Dad's face scrunched up, and a series of staccato profanities erupted from his mouth like I'd never heard from him.

"Yes, Daddy," I urged him. "Let it go. I want to feel you burst inside me. C'mon, Dad, do it!"

With a plaintive cry, he lurched violently, threw his head back, held it, and the exquisite warmth blossomed deep inside my coochie just like my friend Beth described, except better. My skin tingled all over, and a glow seemed to spread from the end of my father's penis, filling my body with a glorious, soft orgasm.

I had never done it without a condom. I swore that in the future, whenever possible, that would change.

Daddy collapsed on me, and I kissed his cheek and his shoulder, over and over. He raised his head, and we shared a blissful, loving kiss.

"I'm sorry, Allie," he apologized, to my wonderment. "I couldn't hold back any longer."

Daddy!" I scolded. "No! Don't say that. You were wonderful!"

He gave me a peck on the lips. "That's sweet of you to say. It's been weeks since - you know, your Mom and I... I'll do better next time."

Mmm... I thought. Next time. He piqued my curiosity, however. "Weeks?" I said. I'd gone without for years before. "When - I mean, how often do you and Mom...?"

He shrugged and grinned sheepishly. "That's something we probably shouldn't..."

"Aw, c'mon, Dad. Seriously. I figured the two of you had done it only once."

He laughed heartily. "Usually it's once or twice a week..."

My jaw dropped.

He said, "We try to be discreet, whenever you're out of the house. Sometimes I come home for lunch."

I giggled. "Afternoon delight?"

He nodded. "But for some reason, she hasn't wanted to do anything for the last month or so. It's always something, a headache, something she needs at the store, or she's afraid you'll be home soon." With a distant gaze, he said, "I don't know what's going on. She's been on me a lot more, you know, sorta..."

"Bitchy." I interjected. "I noticed it, too."

"Yeah." He shrugged.

My quiet, reticent father opened up to me that night like a friend. Even though Dad and I never discussed personal things the way Mom and I did, he had always been my favorite. He and I talked for a long while, then we made love again, pleasuring each other slow and easy before falling asleep in each other's arms. We showered together in the morning, and I finally tasted him, drinking every drop of my father's seed.

We were nearly done with breakfast when the phone rang. Dad answered it. "Hi sweetie." He glanced at me. I knew who it was. "Yes, we're just having breakfast. Yeah, both of us slept late this morning." His cheeks were turning red. "No, we just stayed up last night and watched a movie...Uh, it was..." he stammered, panicking.

I mouthed, 'Scissorhands' and mimicked snipping with my fingers.

"Uh, it was that weird movie that Allie loves. The one with scissors for hands, I think...

I slapped my head. He 'thinks'?

"Yeah, that's the one," he said, he shrugged. "Yes, sweetie, we're fine here...I don't know, maybe some golf...yes, sweetie, I won't forget to cut the grass." I rolled my eyes. "Oh, you are?" A sly smile crept across his lips. "I think we can manage...yes, sweetie, we will...yes, sweetie...yes, I'll tell her...okay...I love you, Ellen..." A poignant expression came over his face. He stared at me helplessly as he told her, "Yes, Ellen, I really do love you. You are my wife, the woman I chose to be the mother of our child. I will always love you, no matter what."

Tears welled in both of our eyes.

"...Okay, sweetie. Bye."

We fell into each other's arms and hugged tightly as tears streamed down our cheeks. What had we done? What had I done?

Dad kissed me sweetly. Was he alright?

He said, "What you told me last night, about it being wrong if anyone found out...?"

"No one will ever learn about this from me," I promised.

"Especially your mother," he said firmly.

"Yes," I agreed, despite a tiny urge to rub it in her sour face. "She's my mom, and I love her, too, Dad. I wouldn't hurt her any more than I would hurt you."

"Good," he said, and hugged me again. "But I have some bad news."

"What is it?" I asked worriedly, seeing the sad look on his face.

"Your mother. She - she's staying with her sister another night." His grin lit up, and I screamed for joy. "One more thing," he said, trying to suppress his mirth. "She told me she wants you to wash all the sheets and pillowcases on all the beds before she gets home."

Oh, God. That means...

I leapt up on him, wrapping my arms around his neck and my legs around his waist. With our mouths locked, he carried me to their bed, and we nearly tore our clothes off. He licked and fucked me senseless. Before the sun went down, we did it on the kitchen table and with me bent over the back of the den sofa. That night, under a midsummer crescent moon, we fucked lazily in his backyard hammock. Then we slept in their bed, where I woke him with a pre-sunrise blowjob and rode him to another mutual climax.

Afterward, lying in post-coital bliss, I was playing with the hair on his chest, and told him, "You're amazing, Dad. Where did you learn to be such an incredible lover?"

He chuckled. "I wish I could take the credit, but your Mom taught me everything. She's..." He paused, caught up in what I was sure was reveries of their lovemaking. He told me, "This may be more than you want to hear, but your mother is quite inventive. Even after all these years, she still keeps our love fresh and alive."

The bitch? I was shocked. How had I missed that part of her personality?

Mom called when she left her sister's, to let us know she was on the way. When she got home, she gave me an odd look, and it was all I could do to keep from betraying my nervous guilt. Then she hugged me, longer than usual, telling me that after not seeing me for a couple of days, she realized what an attractive young woman I had turned into.

"Did your father tell you to wash the bedclothes?" she asked, with an incriminating glance toward Dad.

"Yeah, Mom. All taken care of."

She kissed my forehead. "You're a good girl, Allie. You should be dating some nice young man."

If she only knew.

That night, Mom dragged Daddy to bed early. I didn't mind. I listened carefully, and for the first time heard the unmistakable sounds of my mother's passion, as well as the more familiar strains of my father's orgasm. Happy for the both of them, I enjoyed a self-induced one of my own.

My affair with my father continued for about a year. We found an opportunity ever week or so, on our walks or when Mom was shopping, to share the pleasure of our bodies. He taught me many of the skills that Mom used with him. Some nights, he came to my room after she was asleep, and occasionally I tasted the sticky tang of her on him. As far as I knew, our secret was safe from her.

It was bound to happen. Despite my pledge, I did hurt my father.

Larry the butcher kept asking me out. At Dad's insistence, I acquiesced, and we had a good time. We had a great time, in fact. A few months later, he popped the question. He surprised me, and he couldn't understand why I wouldn't answer until I talked with my daddy.

Dad seemed sad when he told me it was my decision. I told him I wanted to - I could never marry the man I wanted most, and this was my best shot. He said he understood. He came to my room that night, and we both cried as we made love for the last time.

Or so we thought. When my marriage fell apart after less than a year, Dad was there to support me like no other father could be. He sometimes spent the night at my apartment, and taught me the ways of men and their egos, and more than just the technique of sex, but how to keep a love alive.

When I met Paul, it felt so right. He was just like my father. Once again, I had to push my Dad out of my bed, but this time it wasn't so sad. They got along splendidly, and after one more joyous night with me, he was happy to relinquish his claim.

That was the last time. Dad died two years ago - heart attack - and Mom was so distraught, she developed dementia. I visit her at the care center once or twice a week. She's never even raised a brow to suggest that she knew anything about our special relationship.