stepped into the water, making a lot of splashes so I wouldn't have to listen to his lame excuses.
I looked at him, standing on the shore, and I wished I could swim off, down the river, and never have to come back. Maybe I could drown instead. Open my mouth, shut my eyes, and just sink beneath the rippling waters of the Ohio River, never to come up again. I tried, but I was too good a swimmer. Each time I went under, I popped up again, spitting out water and healthy to a disgusting degree. Oh damn it, Barbara, I told myself, you have to go ashore eventually. Why not do it now and get the Goddamned fucking business over with? But I meant what I said. If he insisted that I go back to school simply because my neglect had inconvenienced him a little, then it was definite. We were finished. I wanted nothing more to do with him or the life he'd chosen for me. I summed up all my determination and swam for shore.
I had trouble thinking of him as human while I neared the shore. Sometimes I wanted to shrivel up inside, remembering how I used to idolize the man. Oh, he was handsome, I guess, in his way Dierdre had called him a 'viking' type, which was pushing it a little, but I'd shown her an old picture of him. He was tall, reasonably well built, with sandy blonde hair layer cut, and his clothes were tailored to his body so they fit perfectly. From the neck down he was a decent figure of a man, from the chin up, he was all iceberg, with the coldest, most unyielding eyes I had ever seen or wanted to see.
He stood like a statue as I waded into the shallows and came ashore, water dripping down my lithe, tanned body. I looked at him, found no surrender in the set of his expression.
'If you're finished with your little tantrum, Barbara,' he said stiffly, 'we might as well be going?'
'All right, damn it,' I growled, shaking my hair and tossing it back. I have long hair, fine-stranded, and right now it was weighted down with water. And while I stood there, combing out my hair, not even looking at Daddy, all my weight centered onto my left leg, I heard him make a little coughing sound deep in his chest. I looked up, and he had the strangest expression in big eyes and round his mouth that I'd ever seen on a human being.
'My God,' he said, wonderingly. I lifted my head and stared at him. His glassy eyes were starting to mist over and his face was dead white from sideburns to sideburns, from hairline to shirt collar.
'Is something wrong?' I asked, not really caring. Jesus, I thought, if he has a coronary, it might just work out – oh, God, I really thought that??
He sat down on the grass, still looking at me. He seemed to be having trouble with his breathing. I stopped playing with my hair. 'It's you – all over again.'
'Who?'
He shook his head slightly. 'No. For a moment…'
'What?'
'I don't want to talk about it.'
'Nothing new.' I started on my hair again.
'Your mother,' he said. 'You looked just like her the day the day that I – my God, she was just your age, Barbara, and I was in my second year of college. I'd lived next door to her all my life, and we were good friends, nothing more, and then that day at the lake, she came out of the water and stood there, shaking her hair just the way you're doing now. Good God, you look so much like her, Barbie, so much.'
Barbie? He hadn't called me Barbie in a long time. I felt my hands begin to shake.
'It was the day I fell in love with her, and I never stopped. Seventeen years ago, and I feel the same way about her now.'
His eyes! They were human again! And, oh, God, so heartsick in the way they looked at me! I went to him, wet as I was, and I wrapped my arms around him and hugged for dear life. He embraced me, and my tits were hard against him, hard and wet inside the soaking bikini. He had one, hand in the small of my back, the other in my hair, petting it, toying with it, stroking it lovingly and I leaned my face against his chest, purring like a kitten. I didn't know what had happened to him, but I didn't want it to stop.
'It was as if she'd come back to me all over again, as if I had another chance.'
I looked up. 'I never went away, Daddy. You went away from me.' There were tears in my eyes.
He tried to push me away then, and his eyes began to harden. I fought him. I held on, wrapping my arms and legs around his body, and I pressed him with all of me. 'Oh, my God,' I said suddenly, letting go and stepping back. I'd felt it unmistakable, lancing up against my belly for only a moment but something I could not have missed feeling. I looked down, and there it was Daddy was hard in his pants, massively hard.
I looked at his face, and he couldn't endure the stare of my eyes. He turned away, red and flushed with embarrassment. Nobody should have to look like that, I decided impulsively, and I wrapped my arms around him again. I hugged Daddy, and all the while his ferocious boner poked me in the belly, seeming to grow with each squeeze I gave him.
'Stop it, please,' he murmured, but I didn't stop. And gradually I felt his arms encircling me again, and he was hugging me and petting my hair and my body seemed to flow into a pool and mingle with his. The weight of his erection was incredible it felt long and thick and I could sense the body heat of him coming through his clothes and touching me. Where I lived.
'Barbie,' he said, calling me that name again, 'do you understand now? Do you understand why I kept you at a distance these past four years? Do you understand why I don't want to be with you, don't want you around me?'
I shook my head. 'I don't understand. I never understood.'
'Damn it, for a while I was too hurt, too bereaved to have much interest in you. The main focus of my life had gone and I was empty. And then I began to look at you, remembering the girl who'd grown up next door to me you came to look like her more and more every day it was as if my life had started all over again and I was able to have another chance with my Barbie. But you're my daughter, for God's sake, and the feelings I was beginning to have about you – they were horrible – I used to watch you as you walked through the house and all I could think of was that you were your mother, come back to life, come back to life, come back to me.' He stopped, swallowed hard, and went on.
'I had to get you out of the house, away from me. That's why I sent you to school, why I kept sending you to school. I wanted you, Barbie junior, I wanted you in ways a father isn't supposed to want his daughter – oh, Jesus, do I have to tell you every filthy detail, every wild fantasy? Can't you understand enough, the way I am now? Let go of me, Barbie, please let go of me.'
I didn't let go. 'Oh, Daddy,' I said, 'I don't want to let you go again! All this time I thought you didn't love me.'
'And instead I loved you too much. In the wrong way.'
'No,' I said, shaking my head firmly. 'You can't love anyone too much. And as far as love's concerned, there is no wrong way. Oh, Dad, let me help you. You need help you need it more than I do, I think.'
And with that I unclasped my arms from around him and sank to my knees in front of Daddy. I looked up at his face, reassuring him with my eyes that it really was all right, and then I laid my cheek against the big pillar of his cock. He shivered when I touched him there, and he shivered even more when I reached up and unzipped his trousers. My hand slipped inside, still wet from my swim, and I found his big lump with no problem. It was burning hot inside his shorts and I held him in the palm of my hand, fingers slacking and tensing around his erected flesh.
'Barbie,' he said, but he choked on the final syllable and he had nothing at all left to say except for a weak groan when I fiddled his cock through the slit of his jockey shorts and pulled him into the sunlight, there on the river bank.
'Oh,' I said in awe, eyeing the full exposed length of him. My Daddy's cock was far and away the biggest I had ever seen. How long? How thick? I couldn't guess and I didn't have a tape measure on hand. He might have been a little shorter than Alan and David's eight-inch poles, but he made up for it in thickness. His cock was a perfect fucking tool, a wedge to open a pussy with thick and red, with a purple, swollen knob at the very pinnacle of him. And hard? God, I couldn't find any loose skin on him to play with! He was solid erection from the base to the knob, and so tight my fingers felt as if they were tapping a drumhead.
'You can't,' he said weakly, and even as he told me no, I knew how much he must be wanting this. His eyes were glazed and his lips trembled. Right now he didn't look like my daddy at all. He looked like a weak, horny man who needed to have his horniness taken care of.
A week ago I'd have been aghast at the very idea of this, of what I was about to do, but the two days I'd spent with the Banks family had opened my eyes in a big way. I knew that there was nothing inherently evil or
