Despite being a regular reader of incest stories (almost exclusively mother/son at that) this is my first foray in to actually writing one - and it's a father/daughter story!

Couple of thing before you start - first, I've submitted this to Literotica too. I write under a different name there, so it ISN'T copied if you've already read it there. Secondly, it's quite long as you may already have noticed. I'd like to think it's worth the read though.

Anyway, hope you like it.

*****

Let's get the introductions out of the way first, shall we? My name is Martin, I'm 52 years old and managing to keep the worst excesses of age at bay with healthy (but not obsessive) eating and appropriate levels of exercise to suit my 6-foot frame. As a fairly successful architect that's more difficult than it needs to be sometimes, but work is what keeps me somewhere near sane, so I won't complain too much!

I'm a widower. That's kind of important to mention, as otherwise none of this would have happened. I met my late wife Janet, more usually known as Jan, at university when I was 24 and finishing my architecture degree, and she was 18 and starting her nursing degree. Despite the seemingly massive age gap, we hit it off straight away and were engaged on our first 'anniversary' and married the week after her graduation. By then I was 28, she 22. A year later Jan gave birth to our only daughter, who we named Lindsay after no-one at all in either of our families. Caused a few arguments in both families that did, but it was our daughter, our choice, and we stuck to our guns!

Lindsay sailed through school and insisted on going to university just shy of her 17th birthday as she was "sick of the sight of that place". Enrolled in accountancy, she revelled in the studying, graduating with Honours in the top 10 of her year. And managed all that despite what I'm about to tell you.

At the end of Lindsay's first year, Jan found a lump in her breast. The doctors removed it very quickly, along with a lot of other tissue, glands and the like, and we thought she was on the way to recovery. Eight months later she was dead, brain and spinal metastases proving too much even for my tough little fighting girl. She was forty years old. Somehow, I don't know how to this day, Lindsay managed to deal with this loss better than I did; I think her boyfriend Rob was a massive support for her, because God knows I was no use whatsoever.

I went to pieces, I won't lie. For weeks I could barely get out of bed, I didn't shower or shave more than once a week, and then only if Linz (our pet name for her) was coming to stay for the weekend, and work was a total non-event. Luckily for me I owned my own company by then, with excellent and understanding staff that took over and dealt with just about everything that needed to be done. It took a night sitting staring at bottles of pills all over the table, with the bottle of whisky and a sharp knife for good measure, to realise I was on a spiral that was only going to end in disaster if I didn't do something about it.

Don't be deluded by those simple words into thinking it was easy. I missed Jan every minute of every day, often thought I saw her through a doorway, or found myself talking to her about things that happened and, sometimes, even hearing her answer. But there was Lindsay. Who felt the same, but accepted that her mum was gone and wouldn't be coming back. Somehow her strength helped me and eventually I was able to return to work, then attend Lindsay's graduation ceremony at her Edinburgh University.

Oh, did I mention I live in Scotland? Glasgow to be precise, the opposite side of the country from Lindsay and Rob. Only 45 miles, but it feels like a million miles away when we're both busy and tired when Friday comes. We manage though, every two or three weeks one will travel to the other, for a meal, drinks and chat. Sometimes, we even let Rob tag along too!

Lindsay took the opportunity of her 21st birthday party at one of our country's most prestigious hotels, in the company of her family and close friends, to 'come out' as bisexual and, a few days later, introduce her on/off girlfriend Charlotte, known as Charlie, to me. Understandably, Rob already knew of both Lindsay's sexuality and of Charlie; quite what he thought of it I don't know, as he was always one for keeping his own counsel.

Charlie is a 4'10" bundle of energy with constantly changing hair colour and an infectious laugh; I truly think she is the happiest person I've ever met! To see her against Lindsay's 5'6" height is quite amusing too, especially as Linz is quite curvy and busty, just like her mum, with dirty-blonde hair rather than dark brunette, though she does have the same jade-green eyes her mother had, whereas Charlie is "small but perfectly formed" as my mother would have said, with tiny tits, a barely-there (though definite and pert) derriere, but relatively huge, bright blue pixie eyes which she often matches her hair colour to. Oh, and she's just a little bit mad - but in a good way! (I think). She's a year older than Lindsay at 24, but that's just a number, right?

And so we move closer to the point of this story. In the two years following Jan's death it took me a long, long time to rejoin society and pick up some semblance of a social life. The latter came after my midnight sojourn with the tablets & booze, and I 'improved' to the point I was able to attend various parties and other gatherings my business required me to, on one or two occasions, bowing to pressure from well-meaning friends (and Linz), I even forced myself out on dates a few times; all these were disastrous, with one poor woman even walking out on me in tears in the middle of our meal. I think I had compared her rather unfavourably in some way to Jan, which even as I said it I knew was crass, rude and unforgivable, but I did it anyway; mostly because I felt forced in to being there, and I wanted, needed, to take it out on someone and she was elected to the post. Really nasty and unpleasant of me I know, but you get the idea of where my head was, I hope.

So, after Lindsay's 21st and meeting Charlie for the first time, both the girls spent a week or so at my house to let me get to know Charlie some. Rob was away with some sort of group expedition from his work, but I don't think he would have been invited anyway to be honest! I was at work most days of course, in the mornings at least, which suited the girls as neither appeared to be fond of early rising. It was useful them being there at lunchtimes too, as it they would take my cocker-springer cross spaniel, Bodie, out for walks in the nearby woods, which he loved.

Linz had been with me when I had collected him from the breeder some 10 years ago now, Jan being at work and unable to go with me. He had fallen in love with Linz right from that very first day, and would spend every minute he could with her when she came through to visit; if I ever mentioned her name out loud, he would shoot upstairs to her room and lie outside it for hours - just in case. Dogs, huh? Gotta love 'em.

Anyway, I'm getting away from the main part of this story - again. For nearly six years I had been unable to expunge Jan from my head and memory, despite trying very, very hard to do so, believing after a while everyone's exhortations that it would be "good for you to get out & about" or "come and meet 'X', she's so keen to meet you." Yeah, right. With Lindsay's help (read: insistence) I had reduced the number of images of Jan in the house to just two; our wedding photo by the side of my bed and the portrait I'd had painted of her for her 30th birthday; a huge extravagance when my business was only just getting off the ground but I didn't grudge one penny of the outrageous fee at the time, nor do I now. The artist had captured the very essence of Jan in the picture, her courage and compassion evident in her frank gaze, the sparkle of living life to the full in her eyes, her deep cleavage showing amidst the folds of the jade-green dress I'd bought especially because it matched her eyes. This picture had pride of place in my living room, dwarfing my 48-inch wall mounted TV despite its relatively small 3' by 2' size. It was beautiful, as she had been. HAD been. That was the point.

One night a while ago, Linz phoned to ask if she could come through and stay; like she needed to ask! She said she needed to sort out time off from her office, but hoped to be through by the following weekend, and would I mind if she stayed for a couple of weeks, maybe more? Of course I wouldn't mind, but naturally I asked if everything was OK.

The answer was no, not really. Rob wasn't dealing with Lindsay's sexuality as well as he thought he would apparently, and was being actively unpleasant to Charlie in addition to a distinct coldness towards Lindsay. I told her to come through as soon as she could, while inside I wanted to grab hold of Rob and do him significant injury for hurting my baby girl.

Saturday came, and Linz arrived mid-morning with her car full of clothes, laptop and all the other accoutrements of modern life; these included, in her case, the bundle of fun that was Charlie. No mention had been made of her tagging along but Lindsay explained that, quite coincidentally, Charlie's landlord had decided to sell up, so she had had to leave her flat at very short notice. Thus it was that the majority of the stuff in Linz's car was, in fact, Charlie's. Ah well, my house was quite large and comprised four good-sized bedrooms besides all the other rooms, so there would be plenty of room for Charlie and her stuff for a while. I helped the girls move all their stuff upstairs, putting most of Charlie's gear in one room, but not commenting otherwise when some more personal items made their way into Lindsay's room - I expected nothing more or less.

I had arranged a late lunch at one of my favourite restaurants, and it was no trouble to increase the numbers to three. Before then, we all donned strong boots and jackets to take Bodie for his walk, though I doubted he would need a long walk today as he'd covered about 5 miles running up and down the stairs in excitement at seeing Lindsay and Charlie (he seemed to love her almost as much as he did Lindsay!)

Over lunch Lindsay told me just why she'd asked to come to stay - quite apart from wanting to spend time with her old dad of course! Rob had become very hostile and unpleasant to both her and Charlie, some of his comments extremely derogatory and homophobic in nature, culminating in an ultimatum that it was "either her or me", referring, of course, to Charlie.

Both girls could obviously see my reaction to that news, which was not necessarily that of a peaceful person, which I mostly am, but rather of a fairly pissed-off Grizzly - I would quite happily have handed out a severe beating to Rob at that moment if he'd been anywhere near, helped by years of boxing training as a younger man which I had recently returned to as a way of keeping fit.

"Dad," Lindsay implored me, "Rob's had to deal with a lot from me in the past couple of years, but he feels left out of our relationship and doesn't like it. It's not all his fault either," she went on, "because I have been spending more and more time with Charlie lately. I love her at least as much as I love Rob, or used to anyway, and he can't handle it.

It doesn't help that he wants to join in with us, but we don't want him to. We want it to be just us".

I was somewhat shocked at that last statement. We had talked before about Lindsay's feelings for Charlie, but never so openly about the physical side of her relationships. I also had experienced a very uncomfortable, very fleeting, and totally unexpected feeling of arousal when Lindsay mentioned Rob's desire for a threesome, and could still feel a slight stiffness in my groin that had been absent for a long time. Given the situation, I found the whole thing quite embarrassing and not a little bizarre.

I must explain a little more here about the similarities between Janet and Lindsay, and some of the differences as well. Physically, Linz took after her mother in respect of eye colour and overall shape; Jan had been a curvaceous 5'2" tall, with very lovely 36"D breasts and a peachy arse "to die for" as we say in Scotland, whereas Linz is a good bit taller at 5'6" and, as I said before, she has dirty-blonde hair rather than dark brunette. She does possess a very similar shape to Jan, just in a taller, bigger package.

One other striking (to me) similarity was her smile. Jan had a way of smiling at me with an almost coquettish look on her face, as if there were about to be a lot of fun & games to be had (which very often, there was!) but mixed a kind of shyness which did for me the very first time I saw it. Linz had inherited this look too, though she wasn't really aware of it I didn't think and it certainly wasn't a look or type of smile that could be "put on"; sometimes she would smile at me and I would suffer the most agonising psychic pain as Jan's face overlaid Lindsay's for a few seconds before I could bring myself back to the here and now.

Back to our dinner, and Linz's casual reference to threesome sex. Charlie must have seen something in my face as she suddenly burst out laughing, pointing at me as she grabbed Lindsay's arm and half-snorted to her "Look at your dad's face Linz - he's totally shocked at you! How priceless!"

Lindsay looked at me searchingly for a few seconds and realised her girlfriend was quite correct, making me feel even more embarrassed than I already did.

"It's just a little bit weird for a father to hear his daughter talking about threesomes like that," I explained, somewhat haltingly I must admit, "and it really isn't THAT funny young lady!" I mock scolded Charlie for her antics, who simply ignored me a kept giggling at me, her bright blue eyes flashing in amusement at my discomfiture.

When the hilarity had finally died down and we'd finished dinner, we went back to the house and the girls headed off to bed after saying their goodnights. They left me sitting at my computer with a beer in hand, checking emails and a few internet forums I frequented from time to time, before I faced the nightly trial of trying to get a refreshing sleep.

Sleep was the one thing I hadn't managed to resolve since Jan's passing. Often I would take hours to get to sleep, and manage three or four hours; not brilliant I suppose, but preferable by far to the alternative. A few nights per week, more if I was especially stressed or enduring a particularly bad period of missing Jan, I would fall asleep fairly quickly but waken up within an hour or two in a cold sweat, once or twice with the sound of screaming in my ears (my own, as it eventually transpired) but little memory of the cause of my nightmares. That changed one night when for some inexplicable reason I remembered it all, and to this day wish I hadn't.

In the dream Jan and I had been in bed after a lovemaking session, her head resting on my shoulder as it often did, her full tits pressing against my ribs as we lay talking softly about the future for us and Lindsay and her hand lightly stroking my penis to get me hard again for a second session. Very often our love-making sessions were many days, or even weeks, apart due to Jan's shift patterns, which often led to the first session being quite rough, frantic and, sadly, short-lived, despite my frequent bouts of self-relief when she was at work.

Once my cock had achieved satisfactory rigidity (something that usually took less than 5 minutes!) Jan slipped down to take me in her mouth, something she enjoyed immensely as, for reasons I had never quite figured out, I found it very difficult to cum from oral stimulation alone and she loved teasing me with her talented lips and tongue. Sometimes she liked to then slide up my body and sit on my face, her buttocks covering my chin as I probed her juicy cunt with my tongue, then nipping and sucking on her prominent clitoris as I finger-fucked her until she would cum all over my face sometimes, if I was really lucky, squirting her juices into my mouth for me to savour and swallow down.

On this occasion though, she only slid up the length of my thighs until I could feel the short, soft curls of her pubic mound on my sensitive shaft, her swollen labia like pink butterfly wings as they caressed my manhood.

"Sshh, my darling, shut your eyes and enjoy," she whispered, so I did as I was instructed, feeling Jan lift her hips to allow my rampant cock entry into her sodden love tunnel. Once I was all the way in, she lay down on her front to squash her full, from tits not my chest, her hips sliding up & down just enough to let a few inches of my cock move inside her tight pussy. She was just tall (long?) enough to reach my mouth with hers, kissing me passionately as her tongue forced its way between my lips, to joust with mine in a way we both enjoyed immensely, my tongue then mimicking the movement of my penis as I started to meet Jan's movements with my own.

This was the point where the dream turned less pleasant. As was so often the case, my hands were grasping Jan's hips as she moved on top of me, so that when she pushed herself back up into the cowgirl position my hands would slide up her sides to cup her breasts, forefingers and thumbs moving almost automatically to her thick nipples to nip them and squeeze them lightly as we fucked, something she loved and which was virtually guaranteed to bring her closer to orgasm.

In the dream, though I slid my hands up her torso as usual, only one hand found the warm, soft flesh it was expecting. The other found a thick ridge of scar tissue instead, my body suddenly noticing that Jan was so much lighter now than she had been seconds earlier and her movements slow and stilted. I struggled hugely to open my eyes and barely stopped myself from screaming when I saw Jan's face above me; it wasn't the beautiful, smiling face of my bride as she had been, rather the pale, drawn pain-ravaged face of my love in her last days of life, her sweet mouth twisted in a rictus of pain that the strongest drugs could never entirely squash and the vivid, red scar circling her chest where the doctors had taken away the breast that had ultimately betrayed her and led to her death.

It was at that point that I had awoken from the dream, scared, upset and terrified that Jan had gone to her grave feeling I, we, had failed her. Since then, sleep has been a minefield for me, with unpleasantness hiding below the surface like some sort of emotional sea mine. I've never woken again with the dream so vivid in my head, but there have been times when Lindsay stayed over that she heard me moaning and shouting in my sleep, though she never asked if I knew what happened. Maybe she had some idea, but thought it best not to enquire too closely, which I'd been glad was the case.

Tonight though, I thought I would sleep pretty well. Good food with a few drinks usually had a beneficial effect on my sleep, though too much alcohol had entirely the opposite effect plus I didn't want to get in to the habit of drinking every night to get a sleep - tried that, and it really doesn't work!

Slipping between the sheets in boxers, which was my usual habit when Lindsay stayed over 'just in case', I settled in to a comfortable position and drifted off to sleep. And dreamed. This time though it was a pleasant dream, still involving Jan but this time with no unpleasant ending. I dreamt I was asleep (stay with me here!) lying on my back with Jan wide awake due to having been on nights for a month and deciding she wanted to fuck.

True to her caring nature though, she didn't simply want to wake me in the middle of the night and demand sex; instead, she wanted me to wake up wanting sex, to which end she sucked me until I was rock hard, kissed her way up my body till she reached my mouth then, kissing me firmly, slipped one leg over my hips and lowered her now soaking pussy onto my throbbing member. Her ever more ardent kissing ensured I woke up in short order, still a bit confused as to whether I was actually still sleeping and dreaming of fucking my sexy wife or actually doing it.

__________________
The selfish, they're all standing in line
Faithing and hoping to buy themselves time
Me, I figure as each breath goes by
I only own my mind