Can I Help, Daddy?

Like most young fathers I had hoped for my first to be a son. Someone to take to the ball games, and out on the boat to fish, and to teach what little I knew about cars. Things like that, but it didn’t happen. That’s not to say that I was disappointed with what I got. No, the instant she came, not so gracefully, into this world I was in love with my Stephani. I learned to take care of her wants and needs right from the start, and delighted in them. I was a hands-on Dad, learning to feed her, change her, bathe her, and all those things that had to be done with care and without fail. I also learned what made her happy and content, and what made her angry or sad. I never stopped learning, even to this day.

Don’t get the idea that she grew up to be a spoiled brat, because she didn’t. She learned along the way, too. She learned that, even though she had Dad wrapped around her little finger, on those rare occasions when he said “No” that was it and there would be no changing his mind. So, early on, she started paying attention to the kind of things I’d say “Yes” to and concentrated her efforts on the things that mattered most to her. By the time she was a teenager she didn’t often have to hear “No” and she still managed to get most of what she wanted.

I got what I wanted, too, along the way. We went fishing together, and to ball games, and I’ve made sure that she knows her way around under the hood of her car. If you work in a garage and she comes in for repairs, don’t try to sell her something she doesn’t need. She’ll call you on it and take her car somewhere else. She got this way by hanging with me all the time whenever I was home. Whatever I was doing she’d watch a while and say, “Can I help, Daddy?” If I was going somewhere, other than to work, she’d be saying, “I want to come, too, Daddy.” She became my little shadow, my helper, and my partner more and more as she grew up.

Stephani spent time with Mom, too, and learned all those things that make a woman wonderful. She learned what to do with hair and makeup, how to cook and clean and sew, what clothes looked good on her and how to care for them. But when Dad got home it was into the t-shirt and jeans, so she could hang with me.

Well, Mom left. Back then, I couldn’t even really tell you why she left. I thought I was a good husband; I was trying to be anyway. None of what she said made any real sense to me, but no matter what I said or did, she wouldn’t come back home and so, we divorced. In today’s world, the only reason you have to give is ‘Irreconcilable Differences’, so I never did find out, from her, the real reasons. Stephani chose to stay with me and, being a senior in high school at the time, it was pretty much her choice to make. Her graduation was the last time I saw Julie (Mom) and that was well over a year ago. She was on the arm of a tall, good-looking guy she introduced as Jim. Maybe Jim was the reason she left, I thought. I didn’t know and, in time, I didn’t care; what’s done is done. At least, I didn’t know then, but I do now.

I’ve still got my baby. She decided to stay home and go to the local college. That’s fine. It has a good name and a high standard, so it’s not like she gave up her best choices in order to stay here. And she’s still my partner. We still go places and do things together. I still hear her say, “Can I help, Daddy? I want to come too, Daddy.” We have a lot of fun.

The first year or so after Julie left I didn’t want another woman in my life. Much of that time was taken up with Stephani’s school functions anyway. Junior and Senior year is a busy time and full of surprises. I still remember the night of Stephani’s senior prom. I was standing in the living room, talking with a nervous young man and wondering what there was about him that had attracted ‘My Little Girl’ to him. I saw his eyes get big and his mouth dropped open. I turned around and there stood the most gorgeous woman I’d ever seen. Of course it was my Stephani. I’d always known that she was pretty, but I had only seen her with a daddy’s eyes. The vision that stood before me forced me to see her with a man’s eyes. Her honey-blonde hair was swept up, exposing her neck and bare shoulders. Her red, strapless gown had something about it that pushed her up in the front and made her breasts seem much fuller than I had thought them to be. It was tight on her torso, then it flared out at her hips and stopped just far enough off the ground to show that she was wearing black, strappy shoes with more than a three inch heel. The red really looked good against her pale skin, and the shoes and hair style made her look very tall. Really she’s five foot six and up to that time I would have said skinny, but slender is the word that came to mind when I saw her like that. She was wearing makeup, but it was subtle. I’ve always said that when it’s done right you can’t tell it’s there. She didn’t quite make that mark, but she came damned close. Something she had done made her brown eyes shine and the smile she wore for us was dazzling. I was almost mesmerized by my own daughter and I jokingly said that maybe I should send this kid away empty-handed so I could take her out myself. She blushed at that and hugged me, then we said all the usual stuff and I took pictures of them before they left. That was the night that I really saw that my little girl had become a woman.

Over the next few months there were other times when this thought cut through everything else. For one thing my numbness began to wear off. I was ready for a woman again and I started going out now and then, hoping to meet someone. I dated a few different women, but nothing ever came of it. For one thing I was still a little bit cynical over what had happened with Julie. I kept seeing hidden agendas and shallowness. It’s quite likely that much of this was only my imagination, but it was there. Then too, these women all seemed too big, too old, too serious, or too selfish. There was always something that detracted from them and I finally figured that one out. None of them were Stephani. In the months that followed my awakening I had noticed more and more just how beautiful she was and how thrilling it was to have her nearby or just to hear her speak to me. A woman’s voice does something to men; it fills an empty spot within us. And Stephani’s voice does more; it has this, almost musical, quality to it that will just make a man melt. Given these things and the closeness we had always had it was no wonder that I found my thoughts often turned towards her. It was this, more than anything, that had made me go out to look for a woman, and it was also this that made every woman fall short. Of all the women in the world, she was the only one who was forbidden to me. I had no living relatives, but for her. And yet, she was the only one I truly wanted. Still, I fought against it and tried to find someone.

In the meantime, the body still has needs. I would take care of those needs when I had to and, as time went on, I was having to with more and more frequency. At first, I would fantasize about some woman I had seen during the day, my imagination embellishing her and filling in the blank spots; or I would relive an experience I’d had in the past. Eventually though, these fantasies were slowly replaced with visions of Stephani. Stephani in her red gown. Stephani getting out of her red gown. Stephani lying naked on her red gown with me lying on top of her and between her widespread legs. Stephani in all manner of dress and undress, seducing me or allowing me to seduce her. At first I fought against such things, but the thoughts kept coming back and soon enough I gave up fighting and she was my only fantasy. Her mere presence was enough to get me horny and many times I had trouble trying to hide an erection from her. In my mind I had her in every way a man can have a woman and in more than a few ways that I’m sure would be impossible in real life. I got to the point where I would speak to her while I stroked my throbbing cock, my mind filling in her responses to me.

I was always careful to only do this when she wasn’t around; in my bedroom with the door locked and the TV on to mask the sound of what I was doing. But, of course, you know what eventually happened. One night I was alone, taking care of that urge. Stephani was out on a date. She had been at my side most of the day, still my shadow, and I was painfully aware of her nearness, her scent, the swell of her breasts under her t-shirt. She had gotten all dolled-up for her date and she looked so good when she left that, only minutes after she stepped out the door, I was in my bedroom, naked and sprawled across my bed with my stiff cock in my hand. Knowing that I was alone I wasn’t really very careful and I was soon lost in my fantasy world, stroking my hard shaft and talking to Stephani. The bedroom door was only open a crack, but it was open.

“That’s good, Stephani, squeeze my cock hard while you move your hand up and down,” I said.

“Like this, Daddy?,” I heard her say in my mind.

“Yes, like that. Lick my nipple while you do that,” I said.

“Will you lick mine for me, Daddy? I like it, too,” I heard her say to me.

“Of course I will. Let’s get this blouse off of you.” I replied.

“And my bra. Or should I just pull the cups down like last time?” she queried.

“No, let’s take it off. Now, let Daddy slide these tiny little panties off of you,” I murmurred into her ear.

“Ooh, the air feels so cold on my hot little pussy. Will you rub it and make it tingle?” Stephani asked.

“Yes, I will. How does that feel?” as I (mentally) began to rub her sweet little pussy with my fingertips.

“That feels good,” she cooed.

“Does Daddy’s cock feel good, too?” I asked, knowing the answer, since I was supplying it myself.

“Yes, it does, Daddy,” she replied.

“Do you like Daddy’s cock?” I asked.

“Oh, yes. It’s so hard and hot in my hand,” she said as she (I) stroked its length.

“Do you want Daddy to fill your sweet little pussy with his big, fat cock?” I asked my baby girl.