Daddy, I Have a Question

Daddy, I have a Question

Censored Edition

By Robert Lubrican, copyright 2024

License Notes

This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only.  This e-book may not be re-sold or given away to other people.  If you would like to share this book with another person, lend them your e-reading device.  Otherwise, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. 

Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

Rights to cover art purchased at iStock.com

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Table of Contents

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

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Foreword

Sometimes you get an idea that has very little substance to it but a lot of potential for emotion.

So I wrote it. Please note all characters in this book are at least eighteen years of age. The primary female character in this book is a college student.

Bob

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Chapter One

Bob was reading an article about a ruckus caused by a citizen at a recent city council meeting when movement in his peripheral vision caused him to look to his side. What he saw, or rather who he saw, was his daughter, Cathy. That wasn't strange. He saw her all the time. They had mutually decided she could keep living at home while she went to college.

What was strange was how she was dressed. Modesty in the Phillips household had always been relaxed, as Bob raised his little girl. Bob did not teach her to be ashamed of her body, unintentionally, like many parents do. But they weren't nudists, or anything. He knew she had gone to a party, earlier and had heard her come home. Now she was here, like this.

"I don't know whether to ask you how the party went, or where you got that outfit," said Bob, staring at her over one corner of his paper.

"I got it at a store in the mall," she said. "I saved up my allowance for it. The party was okay, I guess. Everybody was drinking and nobody wanted to talk about anything interesting."

Bob eyed the Baby Doll "pajama" outfit, which was a sort of bronze color and actually went with her blond hair and fair skin very well. A lot of that skin showed, including all of her cleavage within a hair's breadth of her areolas. What did cover her breasts was made of lace and her nipples peeked through the holes in the fabric. The panties were of similar material and even through the filmy jacket he could see the front of the panties was puffed out, full of pubic hair.

"The outfit looks a little grown up for a college student in her freshman year," he commented, carefully. As part of their "rental" agreement she had agreed not to get serious with a boy. She said that would be no problem. She had always been a wallflower and had never had a real boyfriend. It wasn't that he was trying to inhibit a woman's natural urges. He just wanted her to get her degree before a man fucked up her life, either literally or figuratively.

"It's supposed to be sexy, but it probably looks stupid on me," she sighed.

"You're wrong. It looks very sexy," he said. "That's the problem."

She stopped and stood there, just looking at him.

"I'm not supposed to think it's sexy," I explained.

"Daddy?" Her voice was light and high-pitched. "You said we could always talk about anything, right?"

"Of course," he said. He said it from habit and did not think about how some things might be more difficult to talk about than others, now that she was almost grown.

"Okay, so I want to ask you a question."

"Go ahead," he said.

"Well, I said I probably look stupid but you said I look sexy. So … did seeing me in this give you a boner?"

There was a long pause, during which the silence bothered both of them. It bothered him because he kept trying to figure out what to say and couldn't, and it bothered her because she was afraid he wasn't going to answer. She filled the silence first.

"It's okay if you got one. I know you get them all the time. I mean I've known you get them since even high school.  Guys in my classes get them all the time, too, but they're gross. Professor Anderson, my English teacher, gets them whenever it's pep day and the cheerleaders wear their uniforms in class. Some of the girls like that because he's kind of hunky and all, but I wouldn't like it if he looked at me that way. But yours are different. Yours aren't gross. I kind of like it when you get one."

"You do?" He was still a deer in the headlights.

"Yeah. Yours make me feel special." She moved closer to him. He could see through the filmy jacket now, and the bra was tiny, covering only the tips of her breasts, which looked like they belonged on a grown woman, instead of a girl in the last year of her teenage years. "Yours make me get a funny feeling right here." She touched her abdomen, just below her belly button, with one slim finger. "From what Mrs. Peterson said in sex education back in high school that means I might be getting horny, except she said when you get horny it means you want to have sex and I don't want to have sex with anybody. I mean I know you don't want me to. I want you to be happy with me because I couldn't go on living if you didn't love me anymore."

"C'mere," he said. It was his gut instinct that was in play now. Some things were of paramount importance and his relationship with his daughter was at the top of that list. Her mother had succumbed to cancer when Cathy was only five and Bob had been required to be both mom and dad ever since. He had never been interested in trying to find a "replacement" mom for his daughter. Any time he thought about dating it felt like he was cheating on Valerie. He knew that was silly, but beating off served his sexual needs. Even that had been an infrequent need, over the years, at least until recently. When you have a drop-dead gorgeous young woman in the house, who looks just like her mother did when you were head over heels in love and horny all the time, the urge to stroke one out comes more often. He had hoped (and believed) she hadn't seen any of those boners she so lightly brought up.

Cathy moved and, out of habit and maybe something less identifiable, sank down on his lap. She leaned one barely-covered breast against his chest and put an arm around his neck. He inhaled the scent of her body lotion and the erection that had almost begun to flag bounced right back into iron-hard eagerness. It was obvious she felt it because she wiggled on it, getting it to settle between her butt cheeks. All the time she looked him right in the eye.

"There is no way in the world I could ever stop loving you," he said, stroking her back. "You are everything to me. I will love you fiercely until the day I join your mother. I'll probably love you even then. I know she's been watching out over us and when I die I'll keep watching out over you."

"Let's not talk about you dying," she said, sounding as adult as she looked. "Can we keep talking about your boners?" She wiggled on his stiffy again.

"We can," he said, slowly, "but why do you even want to? I'm sorry I get them. I mean I'm not supposed to get them, but you're so beautiful I can't help it. It doesn't mean anything. I mean you don't have to be afraid."

"I'm not afraid, silly," she scoffed. "I told you I like it. But I also know what you mean when you say you're not supposed to. Everybody says that kind of thing is wrong. Well, almost everybody. Can I tell you something secret?"

"Of course," he said.

"It really is a secret and you have to promise not to tell anybody."

"I promise," he said, again without thinking first.

"Pinky swear!" she demanded and produced her little finger to be gripped.

He went through the motions and waited.

"You know Jennifer Humboldt?" she asked.

"She was the tall cheerleader with the black hair that went to her waist, right?" Bob was visualizing one of the cheerleaders who had capered on the basketball court the previous season. He had the same problem Mister Anderson had. Whenever he saw the girls in uniform he got hard. "Isn't she in some of your classes?"

"Yes. We're in some classes together. We went to the party together, tonightg and guys kept hitting on her, but she told them all to get lost. She drank a little too much and said she couldn't wait to get home. She's living at home, too, like me. I said I would be glad to get home, too and she laughed and said, "Not for the same reason I'll be." She almost fell down and so I sat us down on a bench. She was mumbling about how she was horny and needed her daddy. I asked her why and she said she wanted to sit on his lap. She said she sits on his lap a lot."

She paused.

"So Jennifer sits on her father's lap," he said. "Is that the big secret? That's not such a big secret to have. You're sitting on my lap right now."

"Not like she sits on his lap," said Cathy. "When they do it they're naked."

Bob blinked.

"Naked?"

"Uh huh. She sits on him and his boner goes inside her."

"No way," groaned Bob. The image of Jennifer Humboldt sitting, skewered on Hank Humboldt's fatherly cock, did not help make his own erection go down.

"I think yes way," said Cathy. "She described how it makes her feel all stretched and then it feels really good and she kisses him and gets a fliver and then he gets a fliver and then they're done."

"Fliver?" Bob croaked.

"Yeah. That's what we used to call it when a girl gets all giggly and wants to scream and if it's a guy, he squirts stuff out of his penis. We called it getting a fliver. Now they call it cumming."

"Have you seen a boy have a … fliver?" gasped Bob.

"No, Daddy," she moaned. "Of course I haven't. The dates I went on in high school weren't like that. And I agreed not to date while I'm going to college and living at home."

"Do you understand why I don't want you to date, yet?" asked Bob.

"Uh huh. You don't want me to get horny with a boy and have flivers. But I don't want to do that anyway. Boys are gross. They say crude things and grab their crotches and stuff and it just makes me ill. If I want to have a fliver myself I have to think about … um … something else while I do it."

"You have … flivers?" moaned Bob.

"When it was girls only day in class Mrs. Peterson said it was normal and it was a good way to calm down if you got too horny. Did she lie?"

"No," said Bob, carefully. "I just never thought about you doing that."

"She said boys do it, too, even more than girls do."

"I suppose that's true, too," Bob sighed.

"Jennifer said her daddy used to do it with her at the same time. When she started college he said she was all grown up and he lets her sit on his lap with his boner up inside her."

"So … how do you feel about that?" he asked. His mind was whirling.

"That's why I asked you about your boners. I'm not trying to be nosy but when Jennifer was talking about all this she sounded like she loves her dad as much as I love you. But we've never done any of that stuff and I don't know whether there's something wrong with Jennifer and her father or you and me."

"Hold on right there," said Bob. "It doesn't have to be that someone is wrong and someone is right. Different people have different relationships and if it's right for them, then it's nobody else's business."

"But I know if people found out she's doing it with him he'd get in huge trouble. So that makes it wrong, right?"

"Okay, yes. If people found out it would tear them apart. Whether I think it's right or wrong, I don’t feel like I should tear anybody's family apart." He blinked. "That assumes she wasn't forced. If he forced her then that's a different thing."

"I don't think he forced her," said Cathy. "She said the party was boring and she couldn't wait to get back home so they could do it."

"Well, then, I figure it's none of my business," said Bob.

"You know she doesn't have a mom, either," said Cathy.

I know that, but not what happened."

"Jenn says she left the house one night to go to the store and never came home. Jenn says she had to become the woman of the house and that's part of why she and her daddy do it."

"You don't have to become the lady of our house," said Bob.

"I almost am anyway. I wash the clothes and do most of the cooking. You wash the dishes, but I have to do the mopping and sweeping because it would never get done if it was your chore."

"You don't have to become the complete woman of the house," moaned Bob. "Not like Jennifer has."

"But I love you," whined Cathy. "I love you at least as much as Jenn loves her daddy, and you get boners for me and I get horny when you do, so how come we've never done anything about that?"

Bob blinked. Things had taken a decidedly serious turn. No longer was this a casual conversation with a curious young woman. Suddenly he found himself talking to a woman who had things in mind that she shouldn't be thinking about. Except she was. And she was sitting on what she knew was his erection, wiggling on it, in fact, making it extremely clear said boner did not make her uncomfortable in any way, shape, or form.

"Sometimes it doesn't work out when a father and daughter um … try to do things like that," Bob said, vaguely. "Sometimes it freaks them out. And if it does that, it can damage their relationship. I don't want to chance ruining our relationship. I love you, too, and I want you to be happy and well-adjusted. Some day you'll find a young man who also makes you horny and who you want to be with all the time. And you'll get married and have all the sex you want and have his babies and everything. I don't want to screw up your chances of having a normal life like that."

Cathy leaned sideways, all the way onto one butt cheek. Her hand snaked between them and found his rock-hard penis. She gripped it as if she'd gripped one a thousand times and squeezed it.

"You think this would freak me out?" she said. "I don't think so. I know you've been getting them for years and I never felt freaked out about it. When I was talking to Jenn tonight I finally understood what I was feeling when I saw you get one. I teased you sometimes, just to see if I could make it happen."

"Like tonight," Bob suggested. "What you have on is called a 'come fuck me' outfit by some people."

The girl blushed and her face turned bright red.

"I just wanted to look sexy … not the other," she said.

"That's why you learn things at home, so when you're out in the world you know what to do and how to avoid problems."

"Jennifer's learning things at home," said Cathy.

"Look at me," Bob said, trying to make his voice harsh. "Do you want to learn the things Jennifer has learned … here … at our house?"

The blush had faded a little, but popped right back.

"Maybe," she whispered. "I'm not sure."

"Then you shouldn't do anything," said Bob. "You should never take steps like that in your life unless you're absolutely, positively, without a doubt sure it's what you want to do. You can't un-do things like that, like you can never un-say something that hurts another person."

"I know this," said Cathy. "I like sitting with you like this. I like it that you get boners for me. I like looking sexy for you. I like it when all you have on is pajama bottoms or your briefs. I want to see what you hide in those briefs except I'm too chicken to try that. I don't know anything for certain except that I love you more than anybody else in the whole world and I always will. I don't care what happens or doesn't happen as long as we keep loving each other."

"Well, I love you, too, and in the same way. We don't have to make any decisions right now. We have lots and lots of time. You have three more years of college left and a lot can happen in that time. Let's just take things slowly, okay?"

"Okay!" she said, her voice bright. Then she kissed him … on the lips.

They had kissed each other thousands of times and many of those were pecks on the lips. There had been lingering hugs, but not lingering  kisses. This one, however, was different, because when she pushed her lips against his she didn't just pucker them, make a smacking sound, and pull back. This kiss held a kind of emotion that was different than anything they had shared in a kiss before this. Her lips seemed to stick to his and then his lips moved and his head moved and the pressure on their lips increased.

It became a lover's kiss, pure and simple. Nothing overtly sexual had happened and it was possible nothing ever would happen, but that one kiss cemented their passion for each other into a block that would anchor them for the rest of their lives. There was promise in that kiss, promise that there was more that could be shared. Nothing happened when the kiss finally broke, except that Bob grunted, "Get up off of me before we make a big mistake."

She hopped up and bent over. One of her breasts popped out of the flimsy bra as she reached to grip the erection in his pants again.

"I'll see you later," she said to his lap and squeezed his cock. Her eyes came up and said, "I liked that kiss a lot. I think we should kiss like that from now on."

"We're taking things slowly, remember?" he panted, gently.

"That's why I still have my outfit on," she said, with an impish smile. "I love you. Right now I really need a fliver, so I'm going to bed."

She leaned forward and kissed him again, but this time it was a completely normal loving little peck on the lips. Then she ran for her bedroom as he watched her bubble butt bouncing in the tissue-thin panties that cupped, but did not control, her ass cheeks.

Ten minutes later Bob groaned as relief flooded his groin and his semen blasted all over a T shirt that had been in the laundry hamper and would go back there later. As he did, he imagined his daughter with her legs spread, rubbing her clitty until she "giggled and wanted to scream."

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Delayed gratification can be one of the most powerful aphrodisiacs there is. In the case of this girl and this man, neither pushed things very hard at all. That said, modesty got a little more relaxed, when it came to Cathy's movements around the house. She bought more shorty pajama outfits, most in opaque satin, meaning Bob couldn't see through them. They were often just loosely draped on her frame, though, and Bob got many a shot of a pink-tipped breast, or the bulge of pubic hair in the G-string panties she now wore almost exclusively.

She teased him by doing yoga and stretches that displayed her charms and giving him sultry looks.

This had an effect on Bob. It was obvious she wasn't scared or worried. It was obvious she was obeying his suggestion that they go "slowly." The result was that when he got excited over her he no longer tried to hide it. If anything he wore only his skivvies more often because the length and shape of his boner was easily visible through the plain, white cloth, and she said she liked seeing his erections.