No, we weren’t giving up on the first sight of trouble. We went through a lot of ups and down in our 35 years together. We tried to fix our relationship. We brought in professional help. We tried to light the flame in bed again. But we failed. We failed horrible. So we both decided to end our marriage.
Nonetheless it hurt. It really hurt losing her. It fucked me up. It broke my heart. Because somehow I still was in love with her. The day she moved out, I jumped onto a huge downward spiral. I lost my will to life. I saw no point in going on. I only dragged myself through my life from that day on. I stopped exercising, I stopped taking care of my house — my wife tried to get her hands on it, but luckily my lawyer knew his job — and I stopped going out at all.
All I did was dragging myself to work five days a week and watching TV while filling my body with junk food. While my home turned into a cockroaches wet dream. It stayed that way for about six months. Then I received one call. One call — that looking back from now — changed everything: It was my 32 year old daughter. She had split up with her boyfriend. The main reason was that she wanted kids, and he not. And she wasn’t getting any younger. So she asked me, her father, not her mother, for help, for a place to stay.
I drove over to my daughter’s ex boyfriends place — yes, it was his house, and his house only — the next day. I brought some friends and a small truck with me. Within a few hours we had all of her stuff loaded and were back to my place. And yes, we took my daughter with us too. Not just her stuff.
After arriving at my place, after heading in, my daughter just shook her head: “Cleaning isn’t yours dad, isn’t it?”
I shrugged my shoulders. Told my daughter that I am sorry. Then she gave out some orders. We began to clean up the place. She was the one in command of the operation. It took us two days to get rid of all of the dirt. To bring all the trash out. It sucked, it was annoying as fuck, but it I survived it.
After the house was cleaned up, we brought my daughter’s stuff in from the garage — my friends unloaded the truck while my daughter and me, her father, were cleaning the house. Space was plenty, because her mother, my ex wife took most of the furniture with her when she moved out. It was her good right to do so, because she bought it all. She was the one doing interior design in our home, not me.
It took us another day to get all the furniture, all the decorative objects into the house. It took my daughter by far longer to find the right place for everything, to turn the place into a comfy, cozy home again. But it was worth it. It made me feel better, it made her feel better. And we both needed some cheering up, because, well, our hearts were still broken.
Besides fixing up my, or better said, our place, we spend a lot of time talking with each other. We met up for dinner every night. And we talked. We talked about everything. About our past relationships, about our plans for the future, about our daily struggles. We went from a not very close father daughter relationship to friends. Within a few weeks.
Besides that, we both began to look for some new partners in our lives. We both were out on the hunt. In the dating game. Because we both were lonely. Each one of us needed company: To fuck, to found a family, to do couple things with. Each one of us went out for many dates, but in the end, all we got out of it were some totally pointless hookups. They cured horny for some time, but that was all.
Due the fact that my daughter and I were single and living in the same place, we began to hang out with each other. Watching some movie, going to the fitness studio together — yes, she blackmailed me into exercising again: Either you take over more of the household chores or you go and get some workouts. I chose the last one. I hate household chores.
All in all, my daughter and I got closer. No, nothing sexual was happening back then. We sometimes accidentally ran into each other naked in the bathroom, but stuff like that just happens when you life under one roof with someone.
About six months passed by. My daughter and I got along better and better with every week. Living together with her worked out better than it ever did with my wife. We split chores — I had to take care of some household stuff too, but she let me pick the chores I was okay with: I was the grocery shopper, the repair man and the laundry guy — and it worked. Without any bigger problems. We talked about it, and we both were surprised about it. Needless to say, we both liked it that way.
On the dating front, nothing changed. Each of us had some occasional hook ups, but that was all. We talked about our failures, our tiny victories. And one day, my daughter dropped a bomb. A bomb that occupied my mind for a long long time: “If other men just were like you, dad.”
I had to swallow. I asked her if I heard right. She confirmed it. Then I asked her again. She confirmed it for a second time. I was thinking okay, is my own beautiful daughter into me? Is that even possible? Can daughters think about their fathers in that way?
After our conversation in the kitchen — yes, the one where she stated that man should be like her father — things changed at home. My daughter began to drop stuff. She bent over a lot to pick it back up again. Mostly wearing some short skirt and no underwear. I always tried to be polite, to look away. But I got weak. I got curious. I began to look at her pussy when she showed her to me. My conscience went nuts, but horny me, horny me loved what she was doing. I began to pop hard wood when she was exposing herself.
But my daughter showing off, her dressing more slutty at home, wasn’t the only thing that changed. When we were watching a movie together, she came closer and closer to me with every movie night. Until our bodies were touching. She even rested her head on my shoulder. I liked that. I loved her being that close to me.
It took me some time, a few weeks at least, until I figured out, until I accepted what she was up to: She wanted to seduce her own father. But I wasn’t ready for that back then. I thought that I would never be ready for that. Because, fathers and that daughters are not doing that kind of stuff with each other.
She, my daughter clearly was okay with a daughter and her father being a loving couple. And not just that, she wanted us to be loving parents too. So she kept on seducing me. She kept up setting up things for me to run into her: She stopped closing the bathroom door while she took a shower. She rarely ever closed the door to her room when she got undressed or went to bed. She got touchier, she hugged me at every opportunity. She even began to kiss me on my cheeks. Her doing, it changed me over time. I got more and more attracted to her.