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My daughter came home from a hard day's work while I was watching the evening news at ten. I had heard her car pull in the driveway by our bedroom and smiled. She was a beautiful girl and as her proud father, I was always glad to see her.
After a minute or so to greet her mother in the kitchen, the door flew open to our bedroom and Summer came bounding into the room to jump on the bed with me.
"I'm exhausted, Daddy," she said, giving me her big, winning smile. "Rub my feet!"
It was a game she had played with me for most of her life. Summer loved to have her feet rubbed. With us it wasn't, "Hi, Dad, I missed you," or "Hi, Dad, I had a great day." It was always, "Hi, Dad, rub my feet!"
She lay down face-forward on the bed and waved her diminutive feet in my direction. I grabbed her left foot and tucked her knee between my knees. Then I began to enthusiastically massage Summer's foot.
I give a great foot massage, even if I do say so myself. Not that I have to. All the women in my life would agree. Maybe that's why Summer likes them so.
"How was the restaurant tonight, baby-doll?" I asked my girl, looking down at the back of her honey-blonde head as she watched the news with me.
"Exhausting, like I said, Pops," she giggled. Summer knew I hated that name, or would have hated it from anyone except Daddy's girl. "We were busy all the way to the end. Great tips though!"
Summer had never worked a day until about three weeks ago. Since she was going to State University in our own city in the fall, her mom had agreed to let her work the summer to get some experience and earn more spending money for the school term. I was proud that she had taken to it so well, having been a gorgeous but unproductive spoiled brat all her life until now. It turned out she was highly motivated by the cash though, saving every penny that she earned.
I was also proud of her for a lot more reasons than that. Witty and intelligent, Summer was the ideal of grace in an eighteen year old girl. She loved to read and was impeccably slender, yet curved well at the same time. Her only flaw was an occasional flurry of adolescent acne still, but her mom was quick to take her to the dermatologist whenever she had the rare outbreak these days. Her complexion was usually flawless, though; her skin a smooth, creamy color typical of the best of our English and French ancestors.
"That feels so good, Daddy," she said, moaning with pleasure as I caressed the soul of her foot with both hands.
"I can make you feel better, baby," I whispered to her, tucking her leg further between mine until I began to rub it against my hard, denim-encased erection.
"Not again, Daddy," she whined plaintively, but unconvincingly. "Let me just relax for now and you rub my feet like you used to do when I was a girl."
"You know I'll do that, sweetheart, but you're over eighteen now. I've been telling you since your birthday that I can rub you other places and make it so much better," I said, crooning to her gently. Her leg felt good against my stiff prick as I swayed it gently from side to side.
Summer leaned all the way forward and lay her head on her folded arms. I could see her lovely face in profile and her beauty almost took my breath away, just like it always did.
"If I let you touch me like that one time, I don't know that I could ever stop, Daddy" she said wistfully, then closed her eyes as if to concentrate on the movement of her leg.
"So don't stop, Summer," I said candidly. "I told you from the beginning that I want everything. I'm not some teenager wanting to grope you in the backseat, young lady. I'm your father and you know I'll love you for the rest of your life, no matter what."
"And Mom doesn't mind?" she asked again.
It always came up in these conversations. The door she had left open let the sound of an opera aria drift through the room, competing with the low volume of the television news. Lori was in an operatic phase these days and couldn't seem to get enough.
"I've told you before she doesn't, but why don't you call her in here and ask," I told my daughter. I knew her relationship with Lori was at least as important to her as her relationship with me.
I had nothing to fear, either. Lori knew what I was doing.
When I was a young man, I grew up just outside of town close to the country. We had a word for it then. We called it birddoggin'. Boys would birddog the girls until they gave in and gave them what they wanted. Now, I was birddoggin' my daughter.
I was never the most handsome or smartest kid I knew. I learned early on that persistence really did work when I wanted something. When I became interested in girls, I found out what birddoggin' was all about.
I'd dated casually off and on during adolescence, but every woman I'd ever really loved and made love to was as a result of birddoggin'.
Momma was the first woman I ever birddogged. I worked on her for nine months. At first it was flattery and attention. Then hugs and caresses. Finally, my labor came full term and she took my cherry late at night while Dad was on a business trip. Mom and I still relive those happy days every now and then, even now.
I birddogged my sister too when we both went off to college together. Momma wouldn't let me while we both lived at home, but I convinced her that Sis and I could share expenses and save money on dorms. Sis is married now with her own family and even though we're close, we haven't made love in years, much to my regret.
I birddogged Lori shamelessly while we courted. She was older than me and prudish back then. It took six whole months of hard work to get between her glorious thighs. She was the best move I ever made and the best woman I could have chosen as a wife and partner. Lori's a damn good mother and a great lover, even if she is ten years my senior.
I had even birdogged my long-time secretary at work; an older widow and one of sweetest and most loving women I have ever known. JoAnn continued to serve me loyally at work after fifteen years together. My wife Lori knows about the affair, even knew about it when I first became obsessed with JoAnn after working with her for two years, but I would never have allowed it to break us up. I loved them both too much for that and I convinced my wife that my love for JoAnn didn't lessen my love and commitment to her.
