I am 39, and am married, with two children. Or, at least, I was married up till 14 months ago when my wife was involved in a fatal car accident. She was returning after visiting her mother, it was winter, lightly snowing on a frozen surface, and she was caught in a multiple car crash on the freeway. There were many injuries and two fatalities, my wife being one of them. Whose fault? No direct cause could be established.
A combination of bad weather, bad luck and being in the wrong place at the wrong time. I can be grateful for just one thing, if it's possible to feel that way under the circumstances. It was supposed to be a family visit for the children to see their grandparents on their nanna's birthday, but they both had the sniffles and we decided, despite tears and tantrums, that they must stay home. I had to stay with them and my wife Jeannie went alone. Even now, twelve months later, I cannot say her name without tears and an overwhelming sense of emptiness and guilt that I did not prevent her from going alone. But life must go on, and I had our two children to care for.
Jeannie and I were married for 19 yrs and our daughter Anne is now just 18 and Chris, our son, is 10. I am a financial consultant, and Jeannie was a teacher. We had similar tastes in music and literature and our modest life style allowed us to have our home almost debt free at the time of the tragedy. It seemed so pointless to have achieved this enviable situation without her but, as time went on and the pain lessened, I realized that at least it would make the children's life more secure and permit me to spend more time with them.
I began working from home and with the help of the lady who had worked for us when Jeannie returned to her much loved teaching, our life settled into a simple routine which included weekend visits by Grandma who would baby-sit whilst I took care of my business visits to my local clients. I met several ladies, dated a few time but always felt a sense of disloyalty. Certainly, I had known a full and satisfying sex life and was often tormented by a need for sexual relief, so I resorted to the practice employed by all young boys before the opportunity to take advantage of the joy of a loving responsive woman, for which there is no substitute, be it magazines or triple-X videos.
We now reach that point in my story, which brings me to this attempt to rationalize my behavior and hope that it's cathartic effect may help me to justify what happened. But even now I try to convince myself that under the prevailing conditions any man would have succumbed.
My daughter Anne is 18 going on 30! She's tall and slim like her mother, pretty, and with a keen enquiring mind. We saw great things for her, and her mother encouraged her with her education and discussed all aspects of life frankly and openly with her, including sex. She listened to and talked to her school friends to the point when her mother told me sometimes she wondered who was teaching whom, though I did not learn this till later. Anne persuaded her mother to describe our sexual preferences, particularly those acts from which each of us derived the maximum pleasure and satisfaction.
I am just an average guy in height weight and appearance and am not a frequenter of gyms or workout clubs. Jeannie introduced me to the habit of jogging which we did together until the children arrived, and then separately and intermittently from that time. In the last months I have started jogging again during the late morning. My kids are at school, the neighborhood is quiet, my time is my own and I find it relaxing and a bit tenuous, but a pleasing link with the past.
The evenings are the most difficult. My daughter and I each do a little simple cooking. Some frozen dinners, takeouts, pizza and the occasional real meal prepared by grandma takes care of the most basic needs. Anne is great with Chris, giving him his supper, bath and off to bed, then we usually have our meal on the sofa watching TV, a common and comforting custom.
This particular evening I intended to order pizza. Chris was in bed, Anne in her room doing her homework as per her normal routine, and I was relaxing on the sofa with a glass of wine after a long shower. I was dressed only in my robe as had been the custom for many years and was experiencing that wonderful combination of drowsy security and horniness. I was thinking of Jeannie and gently stroking myself in a semi-conscious dream, when I was jerked back to awareness by a voice saying "Dad" in an almost breathless whisper.
Anne had completed her school project and had come downstairs to remind me to order the supper! I can only try to imagine her reaction to the tableau, which presented itself; her father lying on the sofa, with his robe open, naked underneath, moaning and gasping, gently stroking his rock hard cock.
I opened my eyes expecting to see a look of disgust and shock on her face and was surprised instead to see one of what I interpreted as being a mixture of interest and curiosity.
My immediate reaction to this most unusual happening, was to cover myself with my robe, thinking as I did that it was fortunate that I had not reached the point of climax with it's additional source of embarrassment. Closing my robe proved a little difficult with my current state of arousal and even when closed the bulge was so evident that nothing could disguise that my erection refused to subside, since the thought of my daughter seeing me masturbate was unaccountably erotic.
I sat up and stammered shamefacedly "I'm sorry baby, I didn't hear you come down and I lost track of the time." Weak I know, but I was flustered, ashamed and still not fully awake and it was the best I could do. I was consumed with embarrassment and did not know what to do in this strangest of situations, with my overriding fear being that this would irreparably change our wonderful trusting relationship and cause her to view me as some kind of pervert.
