Now her husband was gone, but her father was still living alone in the same house she grown up in. He was a widower, but still able to take care of himself, living in a decent retirement. She called in often, spoke for hours on the phone, concerned if he needed anything. But they never mentioned the things they had done when she was young. Her father had not said anything during those times, and he said nothing about them now. Nor did Wendy. It was something they simply didn't talk about.

She spread her legs wider as she rested her head on the back of the couch, looking down at her nakedness. She ran her fingers through the blonde curls again, wondering why her father never touched her cunt. So many men and boys had wanted to touch her cunt, to feel it, but her father never had. But he knew, surely, that she wanted him to. She didn't understand why he loved to have her hand on his cock, jacking him off over her stomach, but never touching her body at all. Despite the heat she felt, despite the yearning to have her father touch her, fuck her, she was pleased to give him his pleasure by her hands just the same.

Her tits jutted up firmly, her nipples a darker pink now than they had been when she was a teenager. She knew her father would love her tits now. She thought how strange it was that he had stopped playing those delightful games with her when she married. Maybe it was due to her moving out and into a place of her own with her husband, not being as available as before.

She listened to the shower going, thinking of her son again as she fondled the soft hair of her cunt. She was getting quite wet now, and when she touched her pussy with her fingertip, her hips jerked with sensation. She felt the heat start, the same sort of heat she had felt with her father.