An Innocent Thanksgiving

Fuck. I shoved that thought to the back of my mind to deal with later. Same with ideas about my relationship with Maggie. It was… it was going to be difficult to keep my hands to myself, I could admit that. She was even more gorgeous than she had been five years ago, and the sharp edges she’d developed only made me want to work past them to get at the soft, fun girl that I knew was still in there.

I wanted to get my hands on her, the way that I had the other night. It had only been a week ago and yet it felt like years, and yesterday, all at once. I longed to taste her, to get her in every position imaginable. It felt like I was in my twenties all over again when it came to her, driven wild and unable to think about anything other than sex. It had never been this intensely focused on just one person before, though. Even Kate… we had married because I’d felt that was what we’d had to do. That that was the choice before us. But I hadn’t been half as crazy about her, or haunted by her, as I was by Maggie.

But what I wanted in regards to Maggie wasn’t the focus here. If I was moving here to woo her, if Fern wasn’t in the picture, maybe things would be different, but Fern was in the picture. Fern was my priority. I wasn’t going to focus on Maggie, and I was going to find a way to keep my desire for her under control. I wanted, no, needed Maggie to see that this wasn’t about her or about following my dick. This was about my daughter. I was serious about being her father.

I shouldn’t have been surprised when Maggie followed me into my dreams.

I dreamt about her—I wasn’t sure how we got there, how we went from point A to point B, but the next thing I knew in the dream, she was naked in my arms. We were in a home, I knew that much. It was our home, ours, I knew that somehow even if I couldn’t see the details of it. Maggie was riding my cock slowly, on top of me in bed. I could reach up and fondle her sweet, full breasts.

“Cal,” she murmured in the dream. Her curves were all on display for me and I mapped them out with my hands, taking my time the way I hadn’t yet in real life.

I wanted to take that time in real life, if she would let me.

She was so beautiful. And she felt so good around me, so real, it was hard to believe that I wasn’t awake. I thrust up into her and she cried out, a flush spreading across her face, down her neck, across her chest. Her head fell back, her blonde hair spilling around her. I reached up and tugged on it and I felt her shudder in pleasure. Would she like it if I did that to her in real life?

I started to fuck her harder, tugging at her hair, and she began to beg please, Cal, please the way that I loved, it felt so damn good, I wanted to fuck her until she came all over me and I filled her up with my come—

The dream began to fade, and I bucked my hips up in frustration, but instead of feeling Maggie’s hot, tight warmth, the slick slide of her waiting pussy, I felt only empty air. I blinked my eyes open and found myself still lying on the damn empty bed, with an aching erection.

Fuck. Wrapping my hand around my cock, I stroked myself quickly, grunting through gritted teeth as I spilled over into my hand, my cock twitching as I pictured Maggie. God, it was going to be nearly impossible to resist temptation. She just managed to get through to me in a way that nobody else ever had.

But… my concerns that I’d voiced that night five years ago weren’t invalid. I’d been letting my love for Fern, my desire to be with her, and my lust for Maggie fog my brain. As I cleaned myself up from my wet dream, I reminded myself of all the reasons why being with Maggie was still a bad idea. Not just a bad idea, but inappropriate. Maggie was too young, we lived such different lives, she was the daughter of my best friend. Even just one of those reasons would be enough not to pursue her, but all three? Yeah, forget about it.

My focus would be on Fern, and Fern alone. I had to put Maggie out of my mind.

12

Maggie

I relished the feel of Fern’s little hand in mine as we headed down our front walk. Sundays were nice, quiet days for us. We went on walks and headed to the local park. I couldn’t really take Fern on any crazy adventures—I couldn’t afford it—but she was only four, so really, fun outdoors time and quality hours with her family were all she needed. Already she kept getting so big, growing an inch every time I looked away for a split second, and soon she’d be too big for those things. She’d be in school. She’d want to hang out with friends all the time instead of with me.