I know that I'm not the man I was before the accident.
My wife Monica and I had been in a skiing accident, a weekend on the slope. We tried to get off the mountain before the storm hit, but in white-out conditions Monica became disoriented. I was following her because these were the slopes that she'd grown up learning to ski, her family had a modest little vacation home on the mountain. So I was following her, could barely see her, and I don't know what she saw, how she was navigating. She vanished before me on the slope and I followed her over the unseen ledge. Monica survived the fall, but died days later of a pulmonary embolism. My head had been gouged open and I took a seven month nap.
There was a news story I'd read about this woman in the UK who'd suffered from some brain sickness and she'd come out of her coma perfectly fine except that she now had a Jamaican accent. A little British housewife talking like Marley because her brain disease affected the parts of her brain that control speech.
I woke up a different person.
There's a disconnect. I know this because I can still remember the guy I used to be, but I just don't feel the same way about things that he did. The changes are mostly inconsequential: I like yogurt now, I read a lot more, and I have no idea why I used to like basketball. Some differences are extreme: I have a compulsion to run at least three miles every day, I don't miss Monica with an appropriate depth of loss, and then the other day I fucked the shit out of my daughter.
Jill. She's out of college now and manages a shift at a fairly up scale restaurant. Before my head was scrambled we'd had a good father/daughter relationship; I was never dad of the year, but I did okay, and Jill was a real sweet kid. I was very proud of her. And none of that has changed except the relationship thing. I like her like anyone close to me, but my paternal circuit is shorted out. I know she's my daughter but I don't feel it. Jill's just another woman to me.
I tried not to let it show, but it turns out it's easier to pretend you don't love someone than it is to pretend you do. She saw through it before too long, and I think it shocked her; we haven't really spoken much since then. She's got her friends and her life and I just let her have all the room she needs. From her perspective, Jill's lost both her parents, but having me around isn't going to help out either of us.
Still have the mountainside cabin and I still like to ski so I've been staying out there mostly, just me and the mountain that kicked my ass. It's been very good for me and I have come to treasure the solitude, being alone means I don't have to wonder how others perceive this different me. I didn't realize how used to being alone I was until I stepped out of the shower one evening and surprised Jill.
She had her own key, and maybe it was the weekend? Sometimes the meds I take for my headaches make me loose track of what day it is, but then I guess she'd just wanted to get away from the city, maybe hit the slopes, maybe cry a little at night for her Mom? I hadn't told her I was staying at the cabin but for whatever reason she was there I was glad to see her. I was standing there, wearing nothing more than the cloud of steam that followed me out of the shower.
Jill wasn't shocked and the surprise had worn off, she just sized me up like she'd probably done to a hundred other guys, a hundred guys who weren't her father, and she looked so much like Monica. The pale skin of her arms turning pink where I grabbed her, the black mane of her hair was a curtain that opened around her face; her blue eyes went wide as I drew her to me. They were the bright color that frames a coral reef, the color of drowning. Nobody in the family had those eyes, so maybe she wasn't really my daughter, but that had nothing to do with it anyway. I didn't take her because she was or was not my daughter; I took her because she was a woman. She didn't say no, never showed revulsion or outrage. In that moment when I snatched her arm and pulled her to my naked frame I saw the waves of desire rolling across those coral blue eyes.
Her voice was far away like she was trying to remember a dream. "This?" she was perplexed, astonished, "This is what I have been feeling? I thought ...oh god Dad, I thought there was a weird distance between us, growing apart, but that wasn't it. That wasn't it at all." The tension slipped away from her, she molded herself into me, the dark shroud of her hair spilled over her face as she turned her eyes away. One of her hands reached up and slowly her fingers traced the scar. Hardly speaking; sotto vocce, "How do you want me?"
"On your knees."
She didn't kneel, she threw herself down, she crashed down on her knees, and ran her open mouth down the side of my cock, her lipstick smearing red through the trail of spit she slathered on to it. It was so wrong I thought my fucking head would explode.
Her soft mouth stretched and her breath rasped and heaved. Jill's tongue never stopped dancing. I closed my eyes and wove my fingers through her hair, every muscle in my frame was tense enough to hang a suspension bridge from. My cock slid over her juicy tongue and down her throat, stretching out her face with every thrust. I looked down at her. The tears and the wincing, Jill's lips distended around my engorged cock. She looked just like her mother and when she took me all the way, forcing her face down, down even further, so determined to get me all the way in, she felt like Monica too. Her throat spasmed and opened up. Jill's nose was mashed up against my stomach and her rubbery tongue lapped away at my balls.
"Good girl! Oh... my good girl!" At the sound of my straining voice, Jill looked up at me. Her lips were stretched wet around my cock and there was pride in her eyes. I went crazy, it was too much. I took control then, holding her head tightly and fucking her mouth in full stroked abandon. The head of my cock came out to her lips and then I drove her face back across the length of my shaft until my balls were on her chin. Every time I pulled back, her tongue hungrily slathered the head, a splash of saliva poured across her face and soaked sticky her breasts. She began to scream and cry, but I didn't give a shit about her, I just wanted that mouth. What the hell is wrong with me? My own daughter and I was throat fucking her like a crack whore. Who the fuck have I become?
At the time I was too busy smacking my sloppy dick across her face to ask these questions. A beast had a hold of me and it told me to mouth fuck this girl. I popped my cock from her mouth and she made desperate noises as she gasped for air. "oh God oh God oh God..." Her face was slathered with drool, dripping and slimy.
"What's the problem? This is what you want? If this isn't what you want, you know what to say?"
Jill shook her head, the beard of drool waving like a sticky curtain hung off her lip. Her eyes were a blend of angry excitement. With her arms limp at her side, I grabbed the base of my cock and used it to wipe away the tears. Calmly and soothingly I said, "OK. We need a magic word. This magic word will put a stop to this. I'm not raping anyone. It's only good for me Jill if this is what you really want. What's it gonna be?"
She thought for a moment, wiped her mouth and choked out, "We'll use my porn name."
I almost had a fucking coronary, "You're porn name! Jesus that explains a lot!"
Sigh. "No dipshit, ...you know that old thing people joked about a few years ago? The name of your first pet and the name of the street you grew up on."
