Jo4Daddy Ch 04

Two weekends later, Jo returned.

In the interim, I had been monitoring jo4daddy daily. This user had been posting at least once per day during that period, and she had been both receiving and posting a plethora of comments. There was only one post which was not Friends-locked, and it was very, very short:

I want him to come to me again, pull back the covers and find me naked again, and just lay with me in the darkness.

There were quite a few comments on that post, and jo4daddy had replied to many of them, but there was still no solid proof that jo4daddy was indeed my Jo.

When Jo returned, I was home from work already, and in fact had not heard her car. It was only when I heard the front door open that I came up from the basement to see my daughter had returned, the old laundry basket in her arms and her backpack hanging from a single shoulder.

"Hi, Daddy!" she grinned, as if nothing unusual had happened two weeks earlier. The hug we shared contained no nervousness, no uncertainty. It was as if the events two Saturday nights earlier had simply been an elaborate dream.

Jo had come home to start her laundry and then get ready for a night out with a friend from high school who was also home from college for the weekend. The woman who descended the stairs was absolutely stunning wearing a black dress which prominently pronounced the curves at her waist and hips and provided a significant view of her cleavage. It was clear that she was not wearing a bra, which made me wonder if she was wearing a panty.

"Don't break too many hearts tonight," I joked with her.

Even after she had left, I could still smell her perfume and still feel the imprint of her lips on my cheek. A short time later, when I was in the bathroom getting ready to go out to the nearby Barnes & Noble, I noticed in the mirror the rosy imprint of her lips on the side of my face.

Then, for the briefest of moments, I had a vision of that same imprint smeared around the base of my erection with my daughter on her knees before me, looking up at me with wide hazel eyes as she slowly drew her head back and released me from her throat.

Instead of going to the bookstore, I went back to the den to check the jo4daddy blog. According to her profile page, there was a new post made shortly before my daughter had left the house, but it was apparently Friends-locked.

Then I decided to try searching for "jo4daddy" on Google again. This time, I found a link to a post in one of the communities on the blog site dedicated to younger women and older men. The initial post was about a high school senior wanting to entice her favorite teacher, and one of the commenters was jo4daddy:

Good luck! I know what you're going through. There's one specific older man in my life I want to entice as well. I hope he's seeing the little hints I've been dropping. Feel free to friend me, and I hope you don't mind if I do the same.

That definitely was not solid proof that jo4daddy was my precious Jo, but the cryptic comment made me wonder even more about that possibility.

There had certainly been enough hints the last time Jo had come home from college: watching the film together as her breast and her hand were strategically placed on me, sleeping naked and not seeming to really be concerned about it when I discovered that she was not wearing anything...

I never heard Jo return home that night. Around 3AM, I needed to get a drink, and as I passed my daughter's bedroom, I noticed that the door was no longer fully closed, that it had been left ajar. That at least confirmed that she had come home safely, which eased my mind a little.

What really surprised me was finding Jo in the kitchen at 3AM, leaning against the counter with a glass of milk. She certainly looked tired, and wrapped in her pink terrycloth robe, she looked comfortable.

"Good night out?" I asked as I went to the refrigerator.

"Not bad," she replied. "I feel exhausted though."

"That I can understand."

We lapsed into silence as we both drank some milk, and then Jo ended the silence:

"Massage me, Daddy?"

It had been a long time since we had given each other massages. I had no problem with that, although I wondered just how effective I could be giving my daughter a massage so late at night.

I met Jo in her bedroom a few minutes later. She was already in bed, with the covers pulled down to expose her bare back. If she wore anything, she wore only a panty, and I internally questioned that. She looked at me with a sleepy smile on her lips, and that was when I realized that while I was seeing her topless (at least), I was also topless, wearing the old sweatpants. I suppose that made us "even," although society allows a father to be topless in the presence of his daughter but strongly discourages his daughter to be topless in his presence.

After carefully drawing her lengthy brown hair out of the way, I began with the shoulders and slowly worked downward. It took less than five minutes for Jo to fall asleep again, which was good.

That meant that she could not see the bulge at the front of my sweatpants.

Touching Jo so intimately, especially massaging her topless body for the first time, was quite arousing. She was my daughter, yet she was also a beautiful young woman who was selflessly allowing me this intimacy. She clearly felt comfortable enough with me to allow herself to be essentially vulnerable for me. There was little she could do to protect herself if I decided to do something untoward to her.

I continued the massage as she slept, even though sleep was threatening to consume me as well. I paused long enough to turn off the lamp beside her bed, so that the only light in the bedroom came from the open laptop.

Glancing at the laptop, I noticed the screensaver. It was a slide show of various girls and women from anime. Some of them were instantly recognizable to me: Sailor Moon and the Inner Senshi, Deunan, Melfina, Mimarin, Miyu, and Kei and Yuri. Many of them were unfamiliar to me, but all were incredibly beautiful.

One of the pictures particularly captured my interest: someone in a schoolgirl uniform struggling against the lengthy vines which bound her against a thick tree trunk as several forest creatures watched her.

I tried to imagine my Jo in that situation, and to my amazement, I could indeed imagine it - quite easily. Thinking of my daughter bound like that, struggling for freedom yet likely not truly wanting to escape, further strengthened my arousal.

It was time to leave. I had to leave before I potentially did something one or both of us would regret later.

The first light of Saturday morning penetrated my bedroom before I finally fell asleep with thoughts of a bound and struggling daughter still running rampant through my mind.

*****

I awoke to the scent of hamburgers. I had slept until lunchtime. Jo teased me about that, but otherwise nothing seemed at all amiss.

Once I was quickly dressed, we ate on the steps of the back porch. The final days of warmth were meant to be enjoyed outdoors, and this was part of our plan.

"How about canoeing?" Jo suddenly asked.

I had not thought about that for quite a while. "It's a bit late for us to get there now and have any decent time on the river."

"Not now, next weekend. Looking at the syllabi for my courses, I'm not going to have much work to do next weekend because of the exams scheduled for Thursday and Friday. In fact, I could come home Friday afternoon, and we could drive out there as soon as you get home from the office. We could turn it into a camping weekend."

And so we agreed to go camping, but I insisted that Jo be a good student and attend her classes Friday afternoon and that I would pick her up on campus. That meant that she needed to pack her camping clothes and gear and take them with her to campus the following day, and without complaint, she eagerly agreed.

In bed that night, I realized that if this was to be like the other canoeing trips we had taken over the years, Jo would be wearing a swimsuit and shorts as we slowly descended the river. Given what I had been thinking about her in recent weeks, I truly looked forward to it, as was evidenced by the slight tenting of the covers.

*****

Throughout the week, I kept monitoring the jo4daddy blog. She was definitely making more posts and receiving and responding to more comments, but everything was Friends-locked.

Then Friday morning, as I was checking her blog before going to work, I saw a surprising post:

We're going canoeing this weekend! He's picking me up late today and we'll be camping tonight and tomorrow night, with tomorrow spent on the river. I'm still debating whether I should buy some new swimwear or not, because even though I know he'll be handling the steering and then forced to look at my back whenever we're in the canoe, I want to feel his eyes all over me whenever we're not in the canoe. I want to be wet just from his eyes. I want my nipples to be hard points poking through the bikini to attract his attention.

Most of all, I want him inside me. I want him to hold me down and fuck me until he cums inside me. And ideally, I want to do all this on the river - there's a particular island in the middle of the river which if I remember correctly has plenty of underbrush at the edges but a small clearing at its center, which would make a great place for him to undress me and use me. I just hope that I'll be able to keep quiet because the island isn't very large, and there could easily be quite a few canoes going by as he's fucking me.

"Oh Jo..." I whispered to myself. I was both elated at this post and also disturbed: elated because I wanted to experience her body, and disturbed because, if jo4daddy was indeed my daughter, then we would both be irrevocably guilty of incest.

For the first time, the "i" word entered into my thinking. I shuddered visibly, a prominent chill passing from my brain directly down my spine to settle at the small of my back.

It was only the first time I had considered the "i" word, but I was already guilty of incestuous thoughts. As my eyes befell the public entry once again,

I want him to hold me down and fuck me until he cums inside me

jumped out at me.

If jo4daddy was indeed my daughter, then she was also guilty of incestuous thoughts. Perhaps it was natural that such thoughts arose - after all, it had always been just the two of us, and we had always been extremely close.

For the first time, I considered actually holding her down and fucking her. I had not fucked anyone since, arguably, the night before we learned that my wife was pregnant. While Claire and I did not engage in sex very often, when we did, it was usually quite fulfilling, and on that night in particular, the experience had been deeply felt with an intensity I doubt that either of us had anticipated as she bent over the bed in the guest bedroom - what was now our daughter's bedroom - and clawed at the covers while I used her hair for leverage as I fucked her in the wintry moonlight streaming through the window.

...but that had been with my wife. I was thinking about potentially having sex with my own daughter - and if she was indeed jo4daddy, then she was also thinking about having sex with me.

There was no doubt about it: A fateful weekend was about to begin.