Chapter 9

I found one pair that looked like they had been worn recently—probably last night. The goo in the crotch was still wet and shinny. I looked to make sure she wasn’t around and gave them a quick sniff test. The fragrance was all too familiar: the panties smelled just like she did when I went down on her.

Before I knew what I was doing, I was licking the goo out of her panties before tossing them in the washer. I rolled her vaginal secretions around in my mouth, savoring the taste once more; reliving the night I unknowingly ate my daughter’s virgin pussy.

What was wrong with me? This was Erin I was thinking about—my daughter—my own flesh and blood! But I couldn’t help myself. After tasting the sweet goo for a few minutes, I swallowed it down, unwilling or able to spit it out. I pushed the thoughts out of my head and finished her laundry, folding each item as I always do for her.

By the time she woke up from her nap, her laundry was done. She felt much better after her nap and we talked about nothing in particular for a few hours before she had to go back to her friend’s place to get ready for class the next day. Before leaving, she promised to be back by Friday and I told her to make sure to bring her laundry; I’d gladly do it for her.

The next Friday, Erin called to say she didn’t think it was a good idea for her to come home that weekend. I asked her why not and she said that she was still sick and throwing up. And, whatever she had was contagious because now her friend had it, too. She said she was surprised that I got over it so quickly. I told her she should come home anyway and I would make an appointment for her to go see our doctor. She reluctantly agreed and I made the call.

Erin was home by mid afternoon and I drove her to her appointment. I knew she was pregnant now, but couldn’t bring the subject up without raising alarms in her head or possibly offending her (“Is that what you think of me, Daddy?”). We sat in silence in the office waiting room until the nurse called her name. Out of habit, I stood up to go in, too, but she stopped me and reminded me that ‘she was a big girl now’. I just nodded, smiled and sat back down.

After a while, she came back out with a prescription to have some ‘routine blood work’ done. We went over to the lab and they drew blood and took ‘other samples’. Of course, I knew what the lab work was for: they were testing to see if she was pregnant.

The results came back a few days later and she went in to get the report. She was given another prescription, this one to be filled at the pharmacy: a prenatal vitamin. When Erin came home the following Friday, she sat me down because, as she said, she had to tell me something important. She took a while to build up the courage to say it, but finally she confessed what I already knew; she was pregnant.

I kept calm (mostly because I knew it was coming) and told her that it was going to be ok. She started to cry and I told her not to be upset and that I would help her any way I could. I asked her how far along she was and without hesitation she said she conceived on October 31st. I asked her how she could be so sure and she said it was the one and only time that she’d ever had sex. That was the final nail in the coffin: Erin, my daughter, was carrying my baby.

I asked her about her friend, pretending to wonder how she could have been sick because of her, and she replied, “She’s pregnant, too. As soon as I found out, we went and got her a pregnancy tester; it was positive.” Keeping it light and with a joking tone I asked, “Geez—what are you guys doing—hosting sex parties in her house?”

Erin rolled her eyes and said, “No! We are not hosting any sex parties...” I knew that was true: they weren’t the hostesses. She just didn’t add that they didn’t ATTEND any sex parties. I told her she had my support in whatever she decided to do and she said without hesitation, “I’m keeping it—no question! I already love this baby and it’s nothing more than a blob right now.”