Daddy Cums to the Rescue
Copyright ©️ 2016, 2019 by Taylor VanCannon
This book is protected under the copyright laws of the United States of America. Any reproduction or other unauthorized use of material or artwork herein is prohibited. Names, characters, places, brands, media, and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. All rights reserved.
This book is a work of erotic fiction, intended for adult readers. All characters are adults, age eighteen and over.
Revised 2026
I kicked back in the recliner, took a sip of Gentleman Jack, neat, and opened the newspaper to the sports page. The Jack went down smoothly, warming my gullet as intended. It had been a grueling week. As junior litigation partner, it was my responsibility to meet a filing deadline for our largest corporate client. With a staff of ten, I barely managed to get it done. Now I could kick back. It would be at least two weeks before arguments, and my schedule was clear. Tomorrow was Saturday, and I already had a morning tee time scheduled.
I heard the squeal of tires in the driveway just as the front door flew open. Jude came in, disheveled, with fire in her eyes. Her white blouse was untucked, blotchy with damp areas, the buttons askew.
“Jude,” I said, “is something—”
“Don’t,” she interrupted, glaring at me. “Not a fucking word.”
Jude came to live with us when she was ten, after her parents perished in a plane crash. It took my wife a long time to get over her brother’s death, and it fell to me to become Jude’s father. Over time, she came to think of Janice and me as Mom and Dad.
I watched her stomp up the stairs defiantly. What the fuck was that all about? I knew she had a date with Billy for dinner and a movie, but here she was, home before seven.
I heard the shower running and music playing. Perhaps this wasn’t as bad as it seemed—just a date gone bad. She was nineteen, a year older than most of the other seniors in her high school class.
When Janice passed unexpectedly after a botched tummy tuck, Jude and I went through a painful adjustment that took its toll on both of us. Jude fell a year behind in school, and I poured myself into my work. It was times like this that brought back a flood of memories of our early dates, of the good days, along with thoughts of what should have been.
Lost in my memories of Janice, an hour had passed before Jude walked down the stairs, her short, athletic figure draped in a bright sundress. Her long dark hair cascaded down her shoulders, framing her cute, perky face. She was the spitting image of her mother, my late sister-in-law.
“Sorry to snap at you, Dad,” she said, with no trace of her earlier anger.
“No problem,” I replied. “I guess your date didn’t work out.”
“That’s an understatement,” she said, raising her voice, a flash of anger returning. “That fucking Billy is such an animal. I don’t know what to do.”
So much for mellowing out. Her short fuse left me confused, unsure what she wanted me to do. I felt her pain but didn’t know how to offer her comfort. Then it struck me: Janice and I were her age when we met, and our first date had gone badly. Perhaps that experience would provide some common ground for us.
“You know,” I started, “my first date with Janice didn’t go too well either.”
“Really?” she asked. “You two always seemed so happy.”
“True,” I answered, “but it didn’t start that way. I was an all-star football player; she was a cheerleader. Apparently, she didn’t share my expectations for a first date.”
She laughed. “You mean that you expected her to put out.”
That seemed to break the ice, so I went with it. “Right, but Janice knew how to handle it, how to turn an awkward situation to her advantage. She had this theory that all men were untrained pigs. However, she learned early on that unruly men could be brought around if you just gave them the right incentives.”
“This I’ve got to hear,” she said, pulling up a chair and sitting in front of my recliner, ready to absorb more of my late wife’s wisdom.
“I’ll tell you what,” I said thoughtfully. “Describe what went ...