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Daddy’s Summer Memories
By Whiskey McNaughton
Copyright 2012 by Whiskey McNaughton
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Published by Crescent Suns eBooks on Smashwords
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This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, brands, media, and incidents are either the product of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously. The author acknowledges the trademarked status and trademark owners of various products referenced in this work of fiction, which have been used without permission. The publication/use of these trademarks is not authorized, associated with, or sponsored by the trademark owners.
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** This is a work of ADULT fiction. All characters in this story are at least 18 years old.
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Daddy’s Summer Memories
Chapter One
I’ll never forget that last summer when Remington was with me. She was my ex-wife’s daughter, so, my step-daughter, of course. Her mother and I married when Remington was eleven years old and the two of them came to live with me at my home in upstate California, a small community known as Chico, at the northeast edge of the Sacramento Valley.
I worked for the Sierra Nevada Brewery and had for my entire adult life, having begun with this growing producer of fine local beer since just before graduating high school. At the time I married Margie I was a shift supervisor working graveyards from eleven at night until seven in the morning. That was part of the problem that eventually came between me and Margie. She was all right with my shift work when we first met, fell in love and got married, but after a few years of not sleeping together, since I typically went to sleep by nine o’clock in the morning while she was at her job at the university nearby and she slept the usual night time the way most people did while I was working, the strain of feeling a lot like a single mother, even though she had gotten married, began wearing on Margie. By the time we had been together for six years Margie had begun having affairs with other personnel at the university, most often professors, regardless of whether they were single or married. I eventually found out what was going on and she walked out on me just before Remington graduated high school.
The odd thing of finding myself alone once more, was that Remington decided to remain living at my house until she finished her senior year. Margie was not all right with it at first, demanding that her daughter move out with her, but since Remington was scheduled to begin the University of California in Los Angeles in September and was adamant about not going anywhere else until she left for college, Margie finally relented and allowed her daughter to live in the only home she had known for the second half of her life thus far.
I admit I was conflicted on having this girl I had been helping to raise, though who was certainly not my own, living with me once her mother was gone from my life. I loved Remington as though she actually was my own daughter, but for the past couple of years I had noticed signs of her growing interest in me and I don’t mean as a father figure. I constantly told myself I was either imagining things or she was simply going through a phase. After all, she was still only a girl, having just turned eighteen in February of her senior year. Teenage girls were often confused about their sexuality – so I had been told, anyway. But it had been difficult keeping my hands off this blossoming young woman when she did things like rubbing against me whenever we happened to pass in close spaces, like the kitchen or hallway and I often had the feeling that she was in those places only because I was and she wanted to feel our bodies engaged in contact. She also had been known to enter my bathroom when I was taking a shower or had just finished taking a shower, under the pretext of looking for something of her mother’s that she needed to use at that very moment or her bathroom had run out of toilet paper and so she came to borrow the roll from my bathroom, silly things that seemed far too obvious and ridiculous to me and I just knew couldn’t be true. I began making sure she always had plenty of toilet paper under her sink and eventually installed a doorknob with a lock in my bathroom, though I had a tough time explaining that one to Margie without telling her what was actually going on. I hadn’t yet learned of Margie’s infidelities and hadn’t wanted her to get upset with me if I told her my suspicions about her daughter’s undo interest in me.
The worst part of the temptations Remington induced was that as she grew older and her figure filled out as nicely as it had, many adult men saw her on the street or in a store and thought certainly she must be at least twenty-one when she was still only sixteen and seventeen, she began wearing more revealing clothes around the house and even walked around in nothing but her underwear, meaning bra and panties, as much as possible. Certainly since Chico had what was considered a Mediterranean climate, with temperatures seldom reaching any lower than the low fifties even in the coldest part of the year, it seemed natural for her to wear as little as possible year ‘round; I know I always did, too, most of the time walking about with only shorts and a T-shirt, if I wore any shirt at all. And when she availed herself of the pool I had installed out behind my house the summer after Margie and I were married, she wore bikinis that I’m certain must be illegal in many states out in public. Her mother never seemed to care, but by then I think Margie was so involved in her illicit affairs that she seldom paid attention to what Remington was or wasn’t wearing at home or anywhere else.
I had a feeling when Remington made her decision to continue living in my house that I might be in for a hard time. Yes, I mean that in every literal sense possible, though I was hoping I was wrong.
The first few weeks went by without anything immoral happening by anyone’s standards. Sure, Remington went a little overboard on the weekends by making me breakfast, since when I came home on Friday mornings I didn’t go back to work until Sunday night, so Saturday and Sunday mornings I was home already when she woke up, though I kept my normal routine of staying up all night on Fridays and Saturdays, seeing as how if I slept during the night and was up all day I would be worn out by the time I went back to work on Sunday night and that wouldn’t do me any good at all. So on Saturday mornings Remington got up earlier than she actually needed to only so she could fix me breakfast and sit and talk with me before I went to bed for the day.
I guess I should say that once Remington began getting into this stage where she was overly interested in me, she had begun making me breakfast on the weekends quite a bit even before her mother and I got divorced. Certainly she had realized that her mother hadn’t had any interest in doing so and I think she felt somewhat guilty over that fact as well as felt sorry for me that my wife wasn’t concerned enough to fix me breakfast on the only mornings when she could. I didn’t mind, but Remington seemed to. Only now that there was only the two of us living in this house she began taking even more care of my needs in certain areas. I admit I hadn’t been looking forward to doing my own laundry and now I didn’t need to. Remington was taking care of it for me and I never had to ask her to.
Still, I was concerned that one day she might push our living arrangement a bit too far, but that day never came while she was still in high school. I was amazed at her reserve, since everything she did seemed to indicate that once her mother was out of the house she would have moved right in to her mother’s place in every way, especially my bed, but she didn’t and I was – to say the least – surprised, if not shocked, though I was happy as well. I hadn’t been looking forward to informing this nubile eighteen year old that she couldn’t have sex with me on account of the fact that I was – or had been – her step-dad. Actually, once my divorce to Margie was final and it had been since mid-May, Remington and I had no relationship to one another. Still, in my mind there would always be a quasi-father/daughter relationship and I just couldn’t wrap my head around anything other than that between us.
Then graduation day came and Remington and I were very busy getting everything ready. I had asked her if she was going out partying with friends after the ceremony and she told me she had been kind of hoping I would throw a party at home for her and her closest friends. I was somewhat taken back by this, but it pleased me that she wanted to have her post-school fun at my house, so I arranged for a party and she invited her closest friends as well as relatives who lived nearby, which weren’t many. Her mother dropped by only briefly, having already been at the graduation and congratulated and greeted her daughter there. My sisters were both there for most of the party as well as their children, but as the time grew later and since the rest of the school-aged children still had a few days left before summer officially began for them, my sisters took their kids and headed home by nine-thirty.
Remington and her friends continued with their party fun well into the night and I certainly had no inclination to put a stop to their fun and send anyone home. After all, they would all be either heading off to college or into the work world soon enough and I figured they should be allowed this one night at least of having as much fun as possible. At least they weren’t out getting drunk and doing drugs, right? Okay, I admit I was turning a blind eye to their underage drinking once everyone not a newly graduated teenager had gone home. After all, they might not have been twenty-one, but they were at least eighteen by then and who was I to tell them they couldn’t drink? I did make it a rule that anyone who was drinking would hand over their keys when they walked into my home and if they didn’t have a sober person to drive them home, they were welcome to stay the night at my house.
I had taken the night off, since it was a Thursday that the graduation ceremony had been held on, so I in effect had a three-day weekend and was able to be there throughout the night to make sure nothing went wrong with the partying.
By two in the morning most of the kids were either asleep or on their way to it, having imbibed enough alcohol and perhaps a few other items I won’t mention at this point, that caused them to be less than clear-minded. There were three bedrooms in the house, mine, Remington’s and a spare we had always kept available for guests whenever necessary, so there were at least two beds and two couches for people to sleep in. I wasn’t real keen on any boys spending the night, but I knew for a fact none of them were in any condition to do anything with the girls staying over, and the boys were all relegated to sleeping in the living room, anyway, so I felt secure in the fact that nothing would be going on under my roof that I wouldn’t feel comfortable with going on at anyone else’s home, either.
By three a.m. everyone was passed out, other than me, and I had most of the mess cleaned up. I put all the food away and made sure there were no broken bottles or sharp utensils where someone might step on them if they walked through the house during the night and I went throughout the downstairs floor checking on everyone and turning off most of the lights. I left a few small lights burning only so those who woke in an unfamiliar place would be able to get to the bathroom or kitchen if necessary without hurting themselves or breaking anything.
I went upstairs to check and be certain no boys had made it up to the rooms the girls were sleeping in and also turned off all but the night lights I always had lit in the upstairs hallway. Then I went in to my bedroom so I could change out of my more formal clothes and into something more relaxed as well as relieve myself in my bathroom. Only when I opened my bedroom door I was surprised to discover someone was sleeping in my bed. I sighed when I walked over to the bed, expecting to have to roust out one of Remington’s friends and tell her my room was off limits. Imagine my surprise when I shook her shoulder and she turned to look at me with eyes that were not in the least sleepy or intoxicated.
“Hi, Daddy. I was wondering when you were going to get around to coming to bed.”
My mouth hung open and remained speechless as I stared down at my beautiful former step-daughter, her silky brunette hair cascading down about her shoulders and throat, framing the clear, smooth skin that was displayed for me to enjoy. Then she pulled the covers back and revealed the fact to me that she was completely naked while lying in my bed and I lost my battle in not having an erection over seeing her luscious body.
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Chapter Two
I stood staring down at Remington’s nude body for far longer than I knew I should have. It’s just that seeing her like that had come as a surprise, sure, but my libido won out over my good sense at the moment and I couldn’t pull my eyes away from her.
“There’s plenty of room in here for you,” she said, pulling the blankets further aside and scooting over so I could get in next to her. For a moment I thought seriously about shucking my clothes and doing as she suggested, but her movement somehow broke the enchantment her nudity had cast over me and I shook my head and turned away from her. For the moment I had forgotten all about my need to urinate. My sense of doing what I knew was the right thing had taken over and my flight instinct was taking effect. I had to get as far away from this too-serious temptation as fast as possible.
My feet were moving faster than was advisable when I hit the stairs and I stumbled and fell just before reaching the landing halfway down. I twisted my left ankle, but fortunately I didn’t think it was sprained and certainly not broken. Still, it hurt like hell for the moment and when I tried to stand on it I yelped loud enough that a second later Remington had come down the stairs to help me. Only problem was that she hadn’t taken the time to get dressed first. I stared out at her two luscious breasts as she helped me to my feet. Her body pressed too closely to mine and her breasts were right in my face for longer than prudent. A nipple brushed my lips and I suddenly lost all control. I grabbed hold of her shoulders and pressed my lips to the nipple. Taking it into my mouth I sucked on it and then licked the areola and began kissing the rest of the breast.
“Ohhhh, Daddy,” she moaned quietly, but in my mind I heard her and realized something was starting here that I knew shouldn’t and if we continued like this others might hear and see what was happening and then where would I be in this small, close-knit community?
“God, what are we doing?” I pushed away from her and hobbled down the stairs. “Go back upstairs and get dressed,” I hissed, not looking to see if she was obeying me. All I cared about at the moment was getting far away from the temptations her body and sexuality induced in me. Unfortunately my erection was still as big as it had been while I was sucking her nipple and it made walking with my hurt ankle even harder.