And time to think.Deena. The ‘Deena’ who still calls me ‘Dad’ even in the middle of sex, either just the two of us or in the midst of a no-holds-barred threesome.The Deena whom I love in so many ways, my almost perfect daughter until I married her best friend, even though I’d harbored suspicion that she wasn’t my DNA, a suspicion validated by two lab tests.Deena, whom I loved the same as and differently than my little brown-haired, brown-eyed Haley. I loved them both. They loved me. They loved each other.One day I found Deena at home by herself.“Where’s Haley?”“Still on campus. She’s arguing her way through an engineering course.”“How’d you get home?”“Jeremy lives out in the country from here. I’m not far out of his way.”Mention of MY Deena in a car with a male of indeterminate intent popped my antennae up to full height. I guess I’m not as subtle as I wish, sometimes.“Oh, come on, baby,” she said.I was ‘baby’ or other pet names almost as often as I was ‘Dad’.“I hitched a ride with. Still, my voice cracked a bit when I replied. “Agreed.”I barely remember the second half of the game. The sick shock I felt when Harrison sunk that three-point shot dominates my memory. Then the buzzer sounded without the Badgers having recovered.Rob shouted in triumph and made his comment about welshing on the bet. Then he pushed his chair back from the table to where he could rest his head against the wall. I fear I looked at him with pleading eyes, but he just shook his head, snickered, then glanced down at his crotch. I could see his erection developing, starting to stretch the pleats in the front of his chinos.I glanced around and saw no one looking at us. The lights were low, and everyone was watching the TV as reporters tried to get interviews among the tumultuous fans. If I did this quickly, I hoped, perhaps no one would notice.I got up from my chair and squatted down between Rob’ parted knees. When I unzipped his pants, his organ did not emerge on its own, requiring me to.
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