I woke up Wednesday morning drenched in sweat. Another day without air conditioning. I had dreamed of a vacation June, Alice, and I had taken to the Outer Banks in North Carolina. June had been around twelve, and Alice and I were very near to getting divorced. June had started puberty recently, and the combination of her new hormonal changes and her parents' rocky marriage had made her more than usually sulky. One night, Alice and I had had a screaming argument where I had accused her of being a bitch who only used sex to manipulate. All of a sudden I had caught sight of a tearstained, pale face in the door, and all of the anger had drained out of me, replaced by a huge feeling of guilt towards my poor daughter. Alice had demanded the next morning that I move out.
In my dream, the argument was raging once again, but this time, June stepped in with an anger to match my own. She stepped up and slapped her mother twice across the face.
"This is for not realizing what a great man you had, bitch!"
When I woke up, I had a better understanding for June's behavior towards me. Perhaps she felt guilty about her mother's behavior, and was attempting to make up for it. But there was more going on that I couldn't explain. There was a personal attraction she was making clear to me, and also a need somehow to prove something to herself. My own feelings towards her were growing in ways that alarmed me. I had allowed myself to do things with her that no father should ever do with his child. That she had invited me to do so, had indeed initiated all of our interactions, made my own actions no less problematic. I am very rarely ashamed of my sexuality, and I didn't want to feel that way now. At the same time, I was having as much fun as I had ever had in a sexual relationship. That it was my own daughter made it no less fascinating.
The apartment was like an oven. Simply moving around caused me to break into a sweat. All I wanted to do was lie in bed, and try to keep still. I peeled off my sweat-soaked boxers to try to cool off as much as possible, and then laid back down, dozing lightly.
Some time later, I awoke to a light knock on my door.
"Hey, Dad? Can I come in?"
"Hang on, sweetie." I rearranged the sheet so that it covered me, then told June to come on in. She was, like me, sweating from the extreme humidity. She was wearing the same outfit from yesterday morning; her little cropped T-shirt, in its wet state, molded gently to the curves of her breasts. She plopped down on the end of my bed, the jolt causing her firm tits to jog up and down once.
"God, I think it might actually be cooler in here," she gasped, as she wiped her forehead with the back of one wrist. She was in profile to me, and I watched as her breast moved with her arm. Her nipple poked through. Good lord, I thought, this girl is constantly aroused!
"Do you mind if I lie down in here with you? I'm too wiped out from the heat to get up and do anything anyway." I nodded my assent, as watched as she scooted up the bed to arrange herself alongside me. She leaned on her elbow, turned towards me; amazingly, her breasts didn't fall towards the bed, but rather stood up, denying the pull of gravity. Belatedly, I looked up at her face, to see her eyes twinkling.
"Aren't you hot under that sheet, Dad?" Her eyes raked over my body, half-covered with the linen, pausing with significance at my groin. My cock twitched in response to her brazen behavior.
"Well, I guess I am, but I'm not wearing anything under here, see."
"Don't let that stop you. It's too hot for covering up. In any case, I don't think you have anything I haven't seen before."
"I think that's my line, kiddo. You might as well not be wearing that shirt."
"You're right. Why am I wearing this shirt?" And with that, she sat up in bed, and slowly pulled the shirt up and over her head. Instantly erect, I drank in the sight of her perfect globes. I've always loved the lines of a woman's chest, the way the curve of the armpit melds with the downswing of the breast, the symmetry, the circles within circles of nipple on areola on breast. But my daughter's chest was beyond doubt the finest I had ever laid eyes on.
Then she laid back down. She was all roundness and softness. Another line I love is the one from rib cage, down to waist, and then back up to hip when a woman lies on her side. She challenged me with her eyes. How could I refuse?
"Well, if you're OK with it, I've never had a problem with nudity," I said, and twitched the sheet off of me. For the first time, I was naked with my daughter. The cooler air out from under the sheet was a godsend, and I let out a sigh of relief. But June's eyes were locked on my genitals. The freedom to show my erection to her was in itself a breath of cool air across my mind. I put my hands behind my head to invite her inspection. The thrum of my heartbeat was visible in the rhythmic pulsing of the shaft off of my stomach. My testicles hung down between my thighs, the heat causing them to pull away from my body.
"I've never seen a shaved one before," she said, looking a little like a deer caught in the headlights.
"I guess I did have something you haven't seen before," I teased. She looked at me seriously for a second, before leaning forward to look a little closer. Her hair fell around her head, obscuring her face from me. Leaning a little closer, she put her head down on my stomach, looking down at my distended cock.
"I've been wanting to see it for some time now," she whispered, almost to herself. The weight of her head on me felt so right, so natural, and I loved the silkiness of her skin against mine. I could sense the warmth of her breath as each exhalation bathed the head of my penis. After a few moments of silence, she went on:
"I needed to know that - I needed to know so many things. Whether what happened between you and Mom was because of me. Whether you loved me. Whether I was attractive. To you. To anyone. As more than just a pretty face, cause I know I've got that, and the body that goes with it."
She took a deep breath. I stayed silent, needing to know where she was going with this. She put her hand on my knee, softly touching it, stroking it.
"God. I needed to get back at Mom. For what she did to you. For what she's done to me. Over so many years, such humiliation..."
I felt the hot wetness of tears scald my belly by her face. Her hand continued to caress my leg, moving in larger motions, now on the thigh. My heart expanded, a lump in my throat. I wanted to stroke the gorgeous hair spread on my torso, but held back for a moment longer.
"I always remembered you as a force for freedom in our house, for love, and acceptance. For tolerance. You know? Someone who could accept me for who I am. But you were torn away from me when I needed that assurance the most."
Now a tear ran down my cheek.