Those of you following this Series might recall that in Part 12 after Jason, Crissie, Chelsea, and Cassandra had breakfast together, Chelsea and Cassandra left for Cassandra's house to prepare Chelsea for the threesome that she was going to have with Jason and Tony the following week. When they left, Jason was fresh out of the shower and Crissie had gone into his bedroom to talk. When Chelsea and Cassandra returned three hours later, Crissie was just leaving. This is the story of those three hours. It is a story of incest between and young woman and her father. If that concept isn't your thing, then skip this installment.
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I'm looking forward to going home again, to see Dad and my best friend Chelsea. It still feels weird to think of them in the same thought, but I am becoming accustomed to it. Months have passed since that night I called him to extricate her from Pie Town, where she had gone to smother her sorrows in their light, flaky crust after walking in her husband drilling the town skank. I did not expect that she would thank him by riding him cowgirl style, nor did I expect that he would flip her over and "pound her into the mattress then fill her till she was overflowing". Her words, not mine.
Now, she's living with him, sleeping with him. He's been great for her. He's helped her through the divorce. He mentors her for her job. Hell, she's received a promotion at work because of his advice. They work out together in his basement gym and she's transformed from a chubby tubby to a blonde bombshell. She's happy now, and she should be. She has an amazing man in her life — my dad. He's even building a house for her,
an entire fucking house!
The man who raised me to be the strong, successful woman that I am today, the man who named his company after me, the man who is my rock, is now my best friend's lover. The man who was my first love, the man who
mentored me first
; the man who witnessed my first words, my first steps, my first crush, my first broken heart, now supports, protects, and cares for . . . and schtups. . . my best friend. That man, my dad, now has a live-in curvaceous blonde sex doll who's my age. Fuck my life, why can't
I
have a man like that in my bed?
At thirty-one years old, I've only had two serious relationships; the second one ended over a year ago and since then I haven't dated anyone seriously. Hell, I haven't had a real cock in me since my last breakup. Apparently, I have poor taste in men, or my expectations are too high. No one has given me the exhausting orgasms that I give myself with my trusty rabbit vibrator and a good erotica read. Lately, I've taken to audiobooks. I'll strip down, put in my earbuds, click on my vibrator, and listen to women having the time of their lives with some handsome stud or some silver fox. He always has a big dick and knows exactly how to use it. She always loves taking him in every hole, leaving her dripping his cum. Yeah, okay, my expectations are
way too high!
Friday finally arrives and I'm heading home. I was late leaving work, then had to go home and pack. Piss poor planning on my part, I should have packed the night before. Nine o'clock rolls around and I pull into Dad's driveway. I didn't stop to eat on the way so I'm starving. He always has something in the refrigerator to eat. I start to knock on the front door, but instead, I grasp the knob and turn. It's unlocked. I smile to myself, it's always unlocked when he knows I'm coming. It's still my home. I open the door and announce myself.
The next thing I know I'm whisked into the air, just like when I was little. Thankfully I dropped my bag when I entered.
"My Baby Girl is home! Damn, it's good to see you!" he exclaims while he turns circles with me.
I'm thirty-one and still, I'm his Baby Girl. It makes me feel all warm inside.
His arms are crossed under my butt, and if there wasn't a vaulted ceiling at the front door I might be unconscious. After a few turns, he places me back on my feet and wraps me in his arms, pulling my face against his chest. I'm suddenly surrounded by his scent, earthy and manly. I don't know what he uses, but it's his signature and has been for as long as I can remember. It's comforting to know that some things never change.
"I love you," he says softly into my ear before kissing the top of my head.
I lean back and he relaxes his grasp just a bit, but still holding me in his arms. I look up into his eyes and his dopey smile. It's the smile that has always been reserved for me. It's a thing between us, we love goofing with each other. When I was little he would chase me around the house, lurching after me, making weird faces, and growling. I would giggle and squeal as I ran for my room. He'd catch me before I got far and whisk me into the air, just like he did when I came through the door.
Stop it, Crissie! You're going to cry!
Then he'd smile that dopey smile and we'd fall to the floor laughing.
"I love you too, Daddio," I say as I cross my eyes. Another one of our things.
I have an education from a respected institution and a successful career. I'm strong and independent. He raised me that way. Yet I would give it all up if I could come home and be with him. You know that feeling you get when you're out in the sun on a warm summer day? When the sun warms you up and seems to recharge you? He's the sun, every time I'm around him it's like I get recharged. Everyone I know feels that way about him. When everyday life drains me of that charge I need to come home to him. I know I'll leave recharged.
Chelsea is there, just a few steps away, smiling at us. He releases me and I go to her. I wrap her in my arms and hug her.
"Hey, Chels. Good to see my BFF."
"Good to see you, too," she hugs back."
It's good to be home.
"I didn't stop to eat, do you have anything in the refrigerator?" I ask as I turn back to Dad.
"There's some leftover pasta salad in the fridge, and some crusty bread in the pantry."
I fill a bowl with the salad and cut a couple of slices of the bread before grabbing a bottle of wine and dragging Chelsea off to my old room. We talk fairly often, so there isn't a lot of new discussion other than about our jobs. We go on and on for about an hour on various topics. I finish my bowl of pasta salad and go back for more, snarfing it down quickly. That second bowl of pasta salad was accompanied by a second bottle of wine. We both hit the wine pretty hard, giving both of us a good buzz going, and it was getting late, so we changed into our pajamas. We'd kind of run out of topics but I could tell something was bothering Chelsea.
"What's up, Chels? Seems that you have something on your mind that you've not shared but maybe you want to."
"I do, but I don't want you to get creeped out."
"Creeped out? Lord, Chels, what is it?"
"This is something I never thought I'd say to you, and you have to pinky swear that you won't tell anyone, Crissie."
I held up my pinky and hooked hers. "Pinky swear, Chels. Whatever this is, it's safe with me."
"I've been with a woman."
"WHAT!" I yelled, then covered my mouth. Dad probably heard that.
"You've been with a woman?" I whispered.
"Yes, Jason's friend, Cassandra."
"Oh, dear lord. This is big, Chels. This is