A/N - Hello, dear readers. Well, the old imagination has run wild again. As usual, this is all in good fun, somewhat erotic while hopefully also romantic enough for those people who need their good-time fix. There will be two types of relationships in the following:
The major relationships will be daddy-daughter(s). However, there will be a sprinkling of sister loving involved too. That means Sapphic love. You know, lesbians. Woman on woman. That sort of thing. There will also be a little bit of anal from time to time.
All characters are 18+ once entering any sexual relationships.
Usual caveats. All editing and reviewing done the author. Spelling is usually spot on. Definitely the occasional typo. Grammar can be ropey at times but it's been a long time since I sat in a classroom. All mistakes owned up to by the author. Please remember I'm an amateur.
As always, comments and feedback appreciated.
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Mark (Daddy)
They always tell you that it's time to move on. If we'd divorced after I'd discovered that she'd been cheating, or if we'd just fallen out of love with each other and decided to part ways, I probably would have found moving on to be far easier. I sipped at the tumbler of scotch before I looked at her photograph again. I had a few favourites of her. One was of our wedding day, gazing into each other's eyes, the smile on her face telling me that it was the happiest day of her life.
Another favourite is one of her posing in an absolutely gorgeous navy blue gown. It had actually been a night where I'd been given an award but my wife had stolen the show. She just had this natural grace and beauty that drew men and women towards her. I knew more than one man in the ballroom that evening would have loved to take her home. But my wife never had eyes for anyone but me. When I took that photo and showed anyone afterwards, they could see the love she had for me.
We were high school sweethearts. I still remember the day we met, during our first day when we were placed into the same room for roll call. She sat next to me, introduced herself and when that smile formed, that was it. I didn't know it at the time, but I was looking at the woman I wanted to spend my life with. Within a month, we were firm friends. By the time we left high school for university, we'd been exclusive for a couple of years and we married before Christmas. No-one else had a look in with either of us. It was almost like we just knew we'd be together forever.
Of course, best laid plans and all that, but she fell pregnant during our second year at university. It wasn't planned, but we were not exactly taking precautions either. She wanted to be a mother and was willing to put her own education on the backburner to start our family. Our families immediately stepped forward to help. Neither of our mothers worked full-time, immediately offering to babysit so we could complete our studies. I continued full-time, she dropped to part-time, while I also worked part-time to support us however I could. I was burning the candle at both ends but it would all be worth it in the end.
When our daughter was born, the only day that matched the joy I felt was our wedding day. Part-time study turned to studying from home as she raised our child, living in a two room apartment that our parents were helping us rent. As soon as I graduated, I stepped into a job that paid good money and started saving for our own place. My father offered to guarantee any deposit by matching what I could save. When her father heard, he invited me over and offered the same deal. Fairly sure my wife and I both wept at how helpful they were.
In the space of twelve years, from the ages of nineteen to thirty-one, we had five children. Our first four children were girls. I had absolutely no problem with that, as I doted on my daughters something fierce, though my wife and I agreed that we would also love to have at least one son. We agreed on a fifth and last. No matter what, the child would receive the same love our other four children received. And add the love they received from grandparents, aunts, uncles and cousins, and I think they were rather spoiled.
It was while she was pregnant with our fifth child that they found the tumour and, after numerous checks, how much it had spread already. Cancer. The big C. It was incredibly unlucky. No-one could explain how or why it happened. And the news from the outset wasn't good as it had simply been discovered too late. Though she could be treated, the doctors were honest from the outset. Considering how weak she already was with the illness and carrying our child, any treatment...
I didn't freeze but I knew it wasn't my choice. I didn't want to lose my wife or child, but it seemed that was the choice on offer. My wife and I discussed it numerous times over a number of weeks as I watched her get weaker. I almost knew what she was doing. Losing the child growing within her simply wasn't an option. She had been all about freedom of choice, but she was making her decision by simply letting time pass without treatment.
She gave birth to a healthy baby girl. I had made her a promise during the pregnancy. If we had a girl, she would be named after herself. Watching my wife hold our baby girl, I took as many photo's as I could. I knew there wouldn't be many days more that I'd watch the scene. By now, everyone knew what was going to happen. Our children were aware, the worst conversation of my life as I sat them down and explained what was going to happen to their mother.
My wife never made it home from the hospital. As soon as she'd recovered from the birth, the doctor's did all they could to treat her, but also make her comfortable, the doctors, my wife and myself aware the inevitable was going to happen. I was working my arse off though spent every night at the hospital. If I wasn't there, friends and family would be filling my space. Our daughters were not kept away. They saw their mother each and every day. She explained everything, keeping it simple so they could understand.
I was at the office when I received the call. My boss was aware of the situation. Knocking on his door, he took one look at my face, told me to take as much time as I needed. Heading to the hospital, everyone was outside her room, waiting for me to arrive. I stood at the door and took a deep breath, ensuring I held two of my daughters by the hand as we walked inside.
She was still alive, but it wasn't going to be long now. I'd watched her wither the past few weeks, though when her eyes opened, they still sparkled with that mischief I'd seen that first day in roll call. I kissed her and did all I could not to cry. Feeling her fingers caress my cheek, she told me that I'd be okay, and the only thing that mattered was that she would always love me.
Sitting by her bed, I held her hand and waited. There are no real goodbyes when someone is waiting to die. No grandiose speeches. No great professions of love just before they die. All that happened was that her eyes closed and we had no idea if it would be for the final time or not. The doctor in charge of her treatment eventually joined us and announced it wouldn't be long. Her body had enough and it would simply give up soon.
My wife was only two weeks past her thirty-first birthday when she passed away.
I have no idea how I survived for those next few weeks. I barely remember anything except the funeral and having to watch her coffin be lowered into the ground, all our hopes and dreams that we'd shared now extinguished, nothing but dust on the wind. I've often read about how people feel like a zombie when they lose a partner in such a manner. The only people that kept me going were my daughters. I had a new-born to look after, though my mother and mother-in-law were around nearly every day.
The next few years were a struggle. Despite the help, I was still raising five girls by myself, though I eventually relented and hired a nanny to help me. I made sure it was someone of an age where nothing inappropriate would happen. I had absolutely no interest in dating again. I'd had my happily ever after with my wife. If I ever did date again, the woman would have to be utterly spectacular in more ways than one, and in my mind, that woman simply didn't exist.
So that's why I was sat at home on a Friday night after another long week at work, nursing a glass of scotch, gazing at a photo of my lovely wife, feeling the usual surge of melancholy whenever it reached a particular date of the year. There were too many dates that I just couldn't forget. The date we met. Our first date. Our first kiss. The first time we made love. The day I proposed. The day we got married. The birth of each child. And then there were the little memories that, even after years, would never fade. I could still taste her lips on mine, the scent of her perfume, and I swear I heard her voice around the house sometimes.