"I'm mad at you," my daughter said.
I knew something was wrong. Stephanie had been moping around all day. Now that my wife had left for work, it appeared I was about to find out why. "What's the problem?" I asked.
"You've been cheating on mom," she said.
I felt like I had been punched. I actually felt the air whoosh from my lungs. "What...How...How do you know that?" I wanted to know.
She waved a piece of paper at me then read it aloud. "My Dearest Lover--- Last night was wonderful beyond my wildest dreams. You are the best I've ever hadβand the biggest. I can't wait to have your big, yummy cock inside me again. I'm getting wet just thinking about it. Call me soon. Love, Lisa."
"Where...How did...Where did you get that?" I asked, more embarrassed than anything else. That was not the kind of message a guy wants his eighteen year old daughter to find.
"It was on your lap top," Steff told me.
"What were doing with my lap top?" I demanded, hoping to shift the focus of the conversation.
"I left mine at Jillian's house and I wanted to find something on-line," my daughter said, "so I borrowed your's. When I got on-line I saw you had a new E-mail and I opened it."
"You shouldn't have done that," I told her.
"I know," Steff said, flopping onto a chair across the couch, "I shouldn't have but I did. But you shouldn't be cheating. I mean--what about mom?"
I looked at my daughter , my young, beautiful daughter, as I tried to figure out what to tell her.
Actually, Stephanie was my step-daughter. She was seven years old when I married her mother. Two weeks ago Stephanie had turned eighteen. She was five feet, four inches tall and weighed just over one hundred pounds. She had dark, almost black hair that hung down, loose and straight, to a point below her shoulder blades. Her face was beautiful, large, green eyes, a tiny nose and moist, sensual lips that begged to be kissed. Her smile was like a burst of sunshine on a gloomy day.
Her body was perfect. As her father, I should not have been thinking about her sexually but being a forty-two year old man, and having seen her in a bikini, it was difficult not to.
Her breasts were small, but full and firm, high and straight. She had a small waist and rounded hips. Her stomach was flat, her jutting ass was small and tight and her legs were perfectly shaped. Even her feet were pretty.
As she sat across from me, she was wearing a pink tank top, without a bra, and white shorts. Her small feet were bare.
I decided to tell Stephanie the truth. "Your mother and I haven't had sex for over a year," I said, "I don't know why but..."
"I know why," Stephanie interrupted me, "Mom got fat and sloppy and she drinks like a fish."
"Well, that's part of it," I admitted, "Somewhere along the line she lost interest in sex and I didn't." What I didn't tell her was now that she was eighteen, her mother was planning to file for divorce and make me move out.
"What about me?" Steff asked.
"What about you?" I asked.
Stephanie stood up, crossed the room and knelt down at my feet. Sitting back on her heels, with her hands in her lap, she looked up at me and said, "if you wanted someone to fuck, you could have fucked me."
I was completely blown away. My mind was spinning. I wanted to say something but I could not speak, or even think.
"I've wanted to have sex with you ever since I was fourteen," Stephanie said,
"I didn't know you even thought about sex," I said.
"I think about it all the time," Steff told me.
"I don't know what to say," I told her, "I assumed you were a virgin."
"Well, I'm not," Stephanie said, with a hint of sadness, "I wanted my first time to be with you but I wanted to do it so much I couldn't wait any longer. But I never let a guy put his cock inside me unless he's wearing a condom and I never let a guy cum inside me, even if he is wearing a condom. I don't want to get pregnant."
"Do you make your boyfriend..." For some reason, it was difficult to say the word in front of my daughter.
"I always make him cummm," Stephanie said, emphasizing the word with a smile. She held up her hand and wiggled it.
"So, you're a hand-job queen," I said, with a smile.
"I wouldn't say queen," Stephanie smiled back, "I've only done it with one guy."
"Do you like it?" I asked.