His thighs are thick and his hands and feet are very large. I was to learn that the same was true of other parts of his anatomy as well. I should mention that I was a virgin. I knew what orgasms felt like from playing with myself, but my cherry was intact. I had never known the womanly joy of vaginal penetration.

"Good morning, pumpkin," Daddy said. He scratched his belly and yawned as he got to the bottom of the stairs. He walked as if he were a somnombulist toward the edge of the sofa, where he plopped.

"Would you like me to make you some breakfast?" I asked. I strained my neck to look at my handsome father back over my shoulder. I could feel myself beginning to flush. I was having naughty thoughts. As fate would have it, Daddy's thought-waves were headed in the exact same direction. It's difficult to say how we realized our incestuous urges were mutual. It was never really verbalized.

"No, thank you," Daddy said. "You finish eating and come over and sit here with me on the couch." I set my unfinished bowl of Raisin Bran on the coffee table between us so I could join him immediately.

We sat next to each other on the green over-stuffed davenport with our eyes glued to the boob tube. We were watching a New York rabbit being chased by a bald guy who talked funny. Violent stuff, but Daddy and I have always been into that kind of humor.

"I was having the strangest dream when I woke up," Daddy said. His voice sounded far away for a second, as if he had drifted back into that dream.

Daddy's eyes were still on the television but I could tell that he was seeing his dream rather than the animated action featured on the cathode.