The Wedding That Couldn't Be

*****

Disclaimer: This is a sexual fantasy story involving consensual first-degree father-daughter incestuous impregnation. This doesn't condone or endorse the practice for real or the risks involved. If the topics of incest or impregnation bother you, you might want to move on to another story. For those that remain, thank you. I hope you enjoy it! Constructive feedback welcome.

*****

I made a mistake. A big one. I don't know any other way to frame it. I loved that girl so damn much, but I was about to send her on her merry way. I could pretend I was being selfless. Try to hide behind ideals and what's better for her, but in the end, it all comes down to me being scared to own up to my own heart. My own feelings. If she really meant the world to me, how can I just push her away?

The real panic set in the night of the rehearsal. I didn't don my tux. That would be for her actual wedding day. But I did have on a modest suit which lent a formality to the proceedings I hadn't anticipated. As we listened to the priest give the outline of what the ceremony would be like, my daughter took my arm in that way that always felt so natural.

I had a simple job. Walk her down the aisle, shake her groom's hand, then take a seat next to my lovely wife. But as I thought about the consequences of such an action, it felt like heavy lead was quickly filling my shoes. Even just standing, I felt woozy and unable to process any of this. I knew it would be a tough thing to do, but everything suddenly just felt so real.

No one noticed save for my daughter. Sherry gripped at my arm tighter and leaned in to whisper a quick, "It's not too late, you know? We don't need to do this." These whispered words cut me to the core. With all the hustle of planning her wedding, we hadn't really had the chance to be alone much less talk at all without friends or family being there. The one notable exception being a little over a month ago. It was right after her bachelorette party. At some godawful hour of the night, let's just say we didn't bother talking much.

I looked at her. Really looked at her. She appeared pleasant and happy. Joyous even. That's what the world saw. Yet I could tell there was a falseness to it all. Most wouldn't notice. But I could. I knew my daughter well. Too well. Certainly a hell of a lot better than that dipshit I made the mistake of hooking her up with. Mr. "Lets save ourselves for our wedding night."

What the hell was I thinking?

I knew full well what I was thinking. I was being a chickenshit and denying what was so damn obvious. People were starting to stare at us, oblivious to the gravity of the emotions in the moment. Despite my conscience screaming at me, I took a step down the aisle. It was like I wasn't in control, and I did not like it one bit. Without dropping her smile, Sherry added, "I'm late."

*****

Sherry and I were always close when she grew up. She had her struggles and problems, sure. But there was this moment in college where she just grabbed onto her studies and really found herself. She took a mix of business and computer science classes. Lots of math and tech. While she had always sort of struggled through grade school, suddenly it was like everything clicked for her. My C+/B- girl was now making the Dean's List.

My wife and I were proud of her, but her smile just seemed a bit wider when I'd complement her or ask about how things were going. It was always like that for her, but became more pronounced as she found her groove. Her brother, Ryan, was a momma's boy and she was the daddy's girl. We loved them both, but it's hard to say we didn't have our natural favorites in that regard. Not that we would ever admit it.

Sherry had a way of making me feel important. Not just asking for advice, but listening to it too. Asking questions and engaging. She stroked my paternal ego, but in return, she got a confidant. Someone she didn't have to be afraid to tell anything too. Talk about the mean girls at school or other growing pains. Whether it be just to vent about her day or being an ear to help her process issues and problems, we gelled well together.

That even includes some of the more sensitive things most parents like to pretend don't happen. She always seemed eager to get my take. And yes, that included sexuality and self-discovery. She felt safe and trusted me enough to be able to just talk, not to condescend or judge. And for that, we just both felt closer over time. I felt useful. She felt safe. It was self-reinforcing in its way.

I loved her unconditionally and always would. That's not to say I wasn't there to cheer on my son just as much. It's just that like with Sherry, he always responded better to his mom than with me. It wasn't anything we planned. It just happened naturally over time, as they do. You nurture your kids and hang on and enjoy the ride. You can try in vain to help steer them true, but the most you can realistically hope for is preventing them from getting too roughed up during life's bumpy journey.

And that's exactly why I failed her. I tried too hard to steer her ship.

After college, she did pretty well. She had an internship that she crushed, so they extended her an offer post-graduation. It was a mid-size company out of the city, and after about a year of slumming it at our place, she found a nice apartment closer to her work and moved out. It was bittersweet at the time. Ryan had already moved out right after his graduation. But Sherry leaving meant the nest was officially empty.

It turns out that her moving out was a bit of a blessing in disguise. It meant a lot of shopping for odds and ends. New furniture to help her put together. Groceries to shop for. Budgets to plan. And even with four plus years getting her degree, we picked up right where we left off in high school. I was her support and helper once again. We'd call each other to talk or text daily. We were friends and buddies, but also a lot more than that.

She'd come over for dinner after work a few days a week. We even made a new tradition of bringing over take-out on Fridays at her apartment. Her mom joined us initially. But as we routinely outvoted her on which movie to stream, she slowly let it be a daddy/daughter night. I'd also usually go over there on Saturday and take her shopping or hit a matinee. And she'd swing by on Sunday and just hang out with her mom and I. I technically saw her less, but we felt closer than ever.

Her mom would ask from time to time about whether she was going on dates like her brother did. She had a few boyfriends in high school, but no one she ever seemed serious with. Now, ostensibly out and on her own, she would quell her mother's nosiness about future grandkids with "I'm focusing on my career" or other deflections. She didn't want to date. Not that I thought about it consciously, but I didn't exactly want her to date either. Not even out of jealousy, but just pure selfishness. I liked what we had.

On a particularly memorable Friday in February, around Valentine's Day no less, we decided to watch a romantic film for our weekly outing. We settled into the couch with her bowl of popcorn and watched what turned out to be a bit of a weeper. Lots of longing and unrequited love. And well, perhaps a bit more explicit than our usual fare. It was mostly tasteful, but I could feel her snuggle just a bit harder against me as some of the more sensuous scenes washed over us. I hugged her tighter and closer as well.

By the end of it, her face was a rosy and full of emotions and tears. Still sad from seeing it all fall apart in the end and perhaps even flush from being turned on by the steamy parts. After most of our movies, we'd pop on some mindless show or something and just keep going until I was tired and went home. But after this one, we just kept the lights off and left it quiet.

I leaned down and kissed her forehead, letting her know I loved her, even in this messy state. She readily cooed at that. Her lips smiling. Without either of us really thinking, she arched her neck back and brought her lips to mine. We kissed each other. It was slightly tentative initially, but neither of us pulled away. It was like we were trying it on for size. Perhaps to no real surprise, it fit pretty well!

I wish I could say I went through pangs of guilt or that it felt wrong to kiss my daughter like that, but in the moment with the emotional rawness of the movie still hanging over us both, it felt like what we needed to do. It felt oddly like justice. If those characters couldn't be together because of circumstance, we'd make good for them. The taboo might doom us eventually, but there was a hint of our defiance in that kiss too. None of this was really conscious thought. Just knowing it was forbidden somehow made it right at the time. In truth, we were just looking for any tenuous justification.

She turned slightly more so I could hold her and feel her body pressed up against me. The kisses broke when we felt like it was getting gratuitous. I still held her tightly to me though. We eventually did put something on the tv again just to kill the silence. But it didn't stop us from sneaking in pecks. Neither of us talked much. We didn't want to kill the mood or even question what was happening. Both of us were scared to think of what it might really mean.

I eventually did leave her. We shared another kiss at the door on my way out. Both of us smiling and perhaps even a little giddy over it. But I did need to get home after all... to my wife... her mom! It had been a long day for me, but my head was a whirl. By the time I sunk into bed, I saw a text on my phone. I half expected it to be her feeling regret or something, but instead it was a cute, "TY, Daddy <3 Mwah!" Followed by a big lips emoji, "Sending goodnight kisses," and "Can't wait to see you again tomorrow. I'm out of popcorn!"

That made me smile. My wife was already asleep, which I was grateful for. I perhaps felt a little guilty about the kiss, but I also felt good. Yes my daughter was grown up enough to do her own groceries and fend for herself. She wanted me there to tag along not because she wanted me to do it for her, but because we just had more fun together. It was nice to still feel needed like that... and now to be kissed like I was needed too. Besides, no one else laughed at my stupid jokes quite like her.

I was at her apartment bright and early the next morning. She was already dressed and eager to get going to beat the Saturday morning Hockey mom crowd. They'd drop their kids off at the ice arena, go shopping, and by the time they'd be done and ready to go fetch their kids, the store would be wiped out. They were coupon fiends, and we knew not to cross their path.

We didn't talk about the night before, but we did feel a new tension between us in the air. It was hard to explain or put my finger on, but it reminded me of those first trips out with my wife when we had moved in together. But it wasn't "Is this what being an adult feels like?" It also wasn't "What does this new awesome woman in my life like on a micro level?" I already knew both when it came to Sherry. She knew me too.

No, the truth about what we were feeling came out in the canned food aisle of all places. I was getting something off the shelf when a mom with her baby in the cart was coming through. She looked to be in a hurry. And judging from the smell, the poor lil guy probably needed to be changed. Sherry took my hand and pulled me back out of the way to make room for her. We both watched the mom scurry by, but instead of letting go, we just seemed to mutually decide to hold each other's hands tighter.

It was such a simple thing. And yet it made everything seem to crystallize. What we were feeling was love. Not just parental though, but romantic love. Of course I already loved her, and she loved me. This was us slowly giving ourselves permission to take it further. It was also us recognizing we both felt it too.

We smiled and continued to hold hands through checkout. We got back to the car just as the caravan of moms descended on the parking lot. Easy to spot with their "Lucky Pucks" bumper stickers plastered on their SUVs. They seemed happy to be there and commiserating with each other. I felt sorry for the store staff, but hopefully they were used to the weekly rush of chaos by now.

We got out of there and I drove back to her place. She had a car for work, but mine was bigger and better suited for shopping so we usually took it. Plus, of course her apartment was on the third floor and there weren't elevators to get there. So that was the other reason she was keen on me coming along. I was good for the heavy lifting.

We put her things away. I'd usually call an audible at that point depending on how I felt. Either head home to relax or do some chores. Go shopping with my wife or anything she might need. Or just stay and hang out with Sherry. Catch a movie or get some more shopping in for odds and ends.

Wasn't really a discussion today as for Valentine's Day, I'd sprung for a spa day for my wife. A nice facial, mani-pedi, a massage... the works. She'd been kind of tense with her job, so I wanted to do something nice to force her to let go of that. To just focus on herself and feeling good for a change. Either way, I wouldn't need to pick her up until much later, so staying out with Sherry made sense.

We decided on hitting a matinee at the mall. Nothing as intense as the night before. I don't think we were ready for that again quite yet. Still, the movie didn't start for a few hours, so we took the opportunity to check out the mall and see what we could find.

I can't say I ever really liked to go shopping, especially clothes shopping. But when it came to my wife and Sherry, they saw me as an "invaluable resource", whatever that meant. I kind of had an eye for it, even if I didn't know what "it" actually was. Just that I knew them well enough to look at something on the rack and tell if it would flatter them. I apparently had a discerning eye, and they used me like a divining rod. Point me at a store and they'd come out looking very good indeed.

This so-called talent didn't extend to myself or my son. I couldn't help with his style, not that he wanted me to. And as for my own, I could generously be describes as stuck in "90's Alternative Radio Dad-Rock Land". Whatever. The women in my life didn't question this weird talent even if I sometimes did. And they certainly took advantage of it when they could. Hell, back in high school, Sherry even somehow roped me into dress shopping for her and her friends. That... was something.

Either way, my little Sherry was definitely grown up. She needed some new professional clothes for work, so we hit some of the nicer places. Despite it being a Saturday, it wasn't that busy at all. Probably because most folks were there for the trendier shops. We picked out a few things, and she went back to try them on.

I did the usual stand around and look awkward dance. That comprised of standing and looking blankly at nothing in particular while keeping an ear open for my daughter to call me for my opinion. Give her an opinion that lasted all of maybe 2-3 seconds in some cases, then sending me back so I could stand around again. Lather. Rinse. Repeat.

For some reason, the dressing rooms in these kinds of places always seemed near the bra and panty section at the back of the store. So no matter what I did, I still felt like a creeper. I'm not saying I wasn't one on some level. I think all men are at times. Just that usually I have the good sense to not make it so damn obvious!

Some stores were nice enough to provide a seat or two for men like me, but this place didn't have that luxury. I could hear her struggling with something. "Sherry?", I called back.

"Sorry. Just need a moment" accompanied by a few grunts of some kind of effort. I couldn't tell what though.

The clerk took pity on me. Said they weren't busy, so I could head back and help if I wanted. I wasn't sure how I could help her, but hey, it beat standing around aimlessly. I went back and knocked on her changing room.

"Been in there a while with this one. You okay, honey?" I offered.

"Yeah, this one has a back zipper and it's being annoying," she chirped out.

"Back zipper?" I muttered to myself. I didn't remember helping her pick anything like that out. It's impractical for work to say the least.

She opened the door and showed me. She clutched it to her chest to hold it up, but I could see more than a little cleavage anyway. She didn't have a bra on. It was little black number that clung to her body, even without her holding it in place. My hand was a bit uneasy, but I did manage to extend it out to zip her up.

She casually adjusted the fabric over her chest as our eyes met in the mirror. She could see me tracing along her frame. The damn thing showed off her curves and then some. Had that mix of elegant and slutty that I generally steered her away from, but know full well she could pull off. Made me wonder if she had panties on, because damn if I could spot a panty line. I got my answer when I saw them laying on her jeans on the bench to her side. She looked... sexy as all hell.

"Wow... you..." I stuttered a bit, unsure of what to say. "Yeah... you look wonderful. Not exactly work suitable though." I couldn't help but gaze at her and take her all in. The flare of her hips. The curve of her chest. That sweet bared neck just begging to be kissed.

"What's the occasion, sugar? You got a hot date or something?" I was obviously confused.

She just smiled and turned to face me. Leaning in for a hug and reaching behind me to close the door that gave us what little privacy we had here. She draped her arms up and over my shoulders, hugged me close, then whispered, "Not yet. But you will if you play your cards right."

I could feel her pressing against me. I couldn't exactly help myself from pressing back. For the second time in as many days, we started to make out together. We weren't as tentative about it as the night before. Grinding against one another and only stopping when our breathing felt perhaps a bit too loud for public ears, yet alone the cacophony that was consuming us.

We caught our collective breathes. She turned around again and looked at herself in the mirror. "I think I like this one." She smiled and stepped back in the already somewhat confined area. Her backside pushing against my frontside. "My daddy does too, it seems."

She teased me, leaving little recourse but for me to tease back. "Oh yeah, I do! Come on, though. There are a lot easier ways to go about getting me to buy you some clothes, you know. You could have just asked."

"I know. But what would be the fun in that?" She gave her ass a little wiggle for my benefit, though perhaps also her own so she could feel that bulge in my pants I couldn't exactly hide from her. "Now unzip me and scoot so I can get changed back."

I obliged and pulled the zipper back down for her. I was pretty sure she could have gotten it undone herself. I think she could have gotten it on by herself too. But like she said, what would be the fun in that. I helped her and turned to leave. Before I did, she stopped me with a, "Oh, and daddy?"

I turned with the door half open and faced her. She then proceeded to let the dress fall to the floor, "Thank you." And yes indeed, my daughter had on no bra or panties at all. Giving me a damn good look at just how grown up she has gotten. I couldn't help but stare and devour her body with my eyes, memorizing the view. Only some movement from the clerk behind me in the store brought me to my senses. She seemed fearless though. Standing arms akimbo to let me see her in all her glory. She wanted me to look. She needed me to.

I went back to my guard duty outside the changing rooms. My hands in front of me to cover what my daughter just did to me, but not enough to hide the flush in my face. This all felt so dangerous, and yet, I somehow felt okay with it. I wish I knew why.