- [ I g r R L ] -
http://www.incesttaboo.com/incestgrrl

[Story Name] Lust for my daughter
[Author] unknown
[Type] Father/Daughter

I couldn't sleep. I laid flat on my back in the bed, staring at the ceiling.
Trying to figure out how to re-write a program at work was keeping my brain
going against its will. My 34-year-old wife, Sarah, lay on her back beside
me, sound asleep. I envied her unconsciousness.

I got up and padded into the kitchen, wearing only my white cotton boxers. I
got a glass out of the cabinet, splashed a shot of scotch into it, dropped
in some ice cubes, and wandered on into the den, where I switched on a lamp
and sprawled out on the couch with the TV remote.

Nothing was on at 2:00 AM. I stared mindlessly into the TV set, occasionally
sipping on the scotch, while the code for that frigging program kept
swirling around through my head. Finally my funk was interrupted by the
sudden, silent appearance of my 11-year-old daughter, Rachel.

"What are you doing up?" I said, setting my drink on the coffee table.

"I can't sleep," she said, rubbing her eyes.

"You too?" I smiled at her. She was a beautiful child -- long, dark brown
hair, big brown eyes, and milky white skin with still just a hint of baby
fat.

"Can I watch TV with you?" she said. She stretched, holding her arms in the
air above her head, her white t-shirt rising to expose her little belly and
the white cotton panties that were all she'd worn to bed with the t-shirt.

"Sure," I said. "Get comfortable." I pulled up to half-sit, half-lie on the
couch with my head propped up against its arm; she snuggled in between my
legs, she also on her back, with her little bottom in my crotch and her head
rested on my shoulder, her face close beside mine.

I suppose I must have fallen back into my mindlessness; it seemed like quite
a while before I was brought back to reality when Rachel said, "Mmmm... that
feels good, Daddy."

Only then did I realize I'd been absently moving my hand up and down her
little front -- rubbing her tummy for a while, then gently stroking her
neck, chin, and face, then back to her tummy again, much like I might have
done with my wife had she been there in the same position.

"You like that, do you?" I said, a little sorry I was now conscious of
pleasuring her -- I felt, now, that I'd better pay attention to what I was
doing and stop.

"Yes, Daddy, I like it. Don't stop."

I placed my hand back on her neck and -- now paying attention to how it felt
-- enjoyed the creamy smoothness of her skin. She made another pleasurable
little groan, and wriggled her little butt around to settle in and get more
comfortable.

I felt a sudden, gentle rush of affection for this sweet child of mine and
the innocence of her smile and her movements, and I pulled back her thick,
dark hair to press a kiss on the side of her neck, just below her ear. She
uttered something between a luxurious giggle and another "mmm," and I
started to smile too -- then I froze for a moment when I realized that my
penis had twitched into the beginning of an erection, pressed as it was
beneath my daughter's bottom.

"Do it again, Daddy," she said, unaware of the terror that had momentarily
seized my mind. "That felt nice!"

Her little smile was irresistible -- and for that matter innocent -- so I
dropped the fear and planted another little kiss on her neck. She purred
quietly with girlish pleasure, and I drew a little line up and down the side
of her neck with the tip of my tongue. And my cock moved again, this time
beginning to steadily stiffen.

I gently took her face in my hand and pulled her head back into my shoulder,
and shifted my position to try and relieve the pressure on my growing penis.
Rachel squirmed and moved with me to adjust to my new position, and in the
end there was no change -- my cock, now nearly fully erect, was nestled
snugly between the cheeks of my baby girl's butt, separated from it only by
the cotton of our underwear.

In an effort to lose the erection, I tried paying attention to whatever
late-night drivel was playing out on the TV -- but Rachel suddenly squirmed
again and said, "I think there's a rock in my butt!"

I chuckled nervously, but she squirmed around some more -- as though to feel
it out more thoroughly -- and said, giggling, "There IS a rock in my butt.
What happened to your lap, Daddy?"

"Just something that happens to men now and then," I said, trying to sound
nonchalant.

"Does it hurt?" said asked, turning her head so that her big brown eyes
peered curiously into mine, so close I could feel her breath on my face.

"No, sweetheart, it doesn't hurt."

Then she scared the hell out of me. She giggled again, and said, "I think it
feels good." And saying that, she began slowly sliding the crack of her tiny
little ass up and down the length of my now fully erect penis. She seemed
fascinated by this new experience.

Not knowing what to do, I rested my hand on her tummy, gently rubbing it
while she wiggled curiously around on my cock. And now something changed --
a change for which I can find no accurate words. Nothing was said, but we
both suddenly knew that we were someplace where we perhaps ought not be --
but neither of us knew quite where it was, and neither of us did anything to
stop it, because it felt good.

I was afraid to touch her. I rubbed her smooth little belly with my left
hand and cradled her head with my right -- I didn't dare let my hands go
anywhere else -- and just let my pelvis move in the natural rhythm it took
as it followed my cotton-clad penis's ride beneath my daughter's squirming
buttocks.

Her eyes were wide and solemn, and her breathing uneven, as she moved -- she
knew something very rare and pleasurable was happening between us, but she
didn't understand it -- and her whole body rose and fell as I, beneath her,
gave up on controlling the thrusts of my throbbing cock.

"Daddy," she whispered, "this feels good..."

"Yes baby," I moaned softly, "Yes baby, it does..." Then I groaned, pressing
my face into my baby girl's hair as my cock let loose with great hot spurts
of cum -- nearly painful spurts, as squeezed as I was beneath my daughter's
tiny ass.

We lay motionless for a few moments, apart from the post-come twitchings of
my cock, then Rachel said, "Are you alright, Daddy?"

"Yes, baby," I said. "I'm alright." I laid there with her cradled in my
arms, stroking her smooth, white face with my hand.

"We're all wet, Daddy," Rachel said suddenly. "What happened?" My cum, now
cooling, had made a big spot that soaked through my shorts, and on through
hers, to make us both wet and sticky. I was uncomfortable now -- not just
with a wet spot, but with confusion over what I had just done.

"I guess Daddy had a boo-boo," I said. "We probably ought to try going back
to bed now. What do you think?"

She didn't say anything. Instead, she turned on her side in my embrace, and
pressed a sweet, pouty-lipped kiss on my mouth before jumping up and heading
out of the room and down the dark hallway to her bedroom.

I laid there for only a brief while before rising, switching off the TV and
lamp, and stopping by the bathroom where I got rid of the soiled shorts and
cleaned myself up.

Sarah, still lying flat on her back on top of the covers, woke up when I
crawled back into the bed. "Where've you been?" she asked sleepily, never
opening her eyes.

"Watching TV with Rachel," I said.

"Rachel? What was she doing up at this hour?" Sarah stretched as she spoke,
raising her knees and beginning to slowly and absentmindedly diddle her
black-thatched pubic area. My wife was beautiful, with olive skin, jet-black
hair, and piercing dark brown eyes that could kill you with their sparkle.
After sixteen years of marriage, thanks in part to what I always thought
might be a true case of nymphomania, she still turned me on as though I had
met her only yesterday.

"Said she couldn't sleep," I said, "just like me."

"Hmm," said Sarah, responding as though she'd forgotten she asked a
question. Her hips were rocking gently as her fingers, ever so slowly, moved
around her womanhood, lost in the black thicket of her bush.

Possibly I shouldn't have done this. But I have never lied to my wife, nor
even withheld anything I felt was important to our relationship. I sat up on
the bed, my back leaning against the headboard, my cock dangling
half-flaccid, maybe even obscenely, across my right thigh. "She laid with me
on the couch while we watched TV," I said.

There was no reaction; it was as if she wasn't listening.

"I got an erection. A huge hard-on."

There was a pause, then Sarah said, "She's a beautiful girl."

"You don't seem concerned," I said. "This has me pretty bothered."

Sarah sank two fingers into her moist opening, and squeezed her thighs
together, hiding both hands in her pubic patch, where they dug hungrily away
at whatever need she was trying with such exquisitely lazy slowness to
satisfy.

"I came," I said, a little annoyed by her seeming disinterest. "I shot my
load in my shorts."

Her hips bucked up -- seemingly trying to devour her hands -- as I spoke.

"Did she know it?" she said.

"She knew something had happened. I don't think she understood."

"Was she bothered by it?"

"I don't think so."

Sarah was quiet for a time, still digging away at the itch between her legs.
Her voice and breathing were a little uneven when she finally spoke again.

"I always wanted my father when I was a child," she said.

If I had been confused while lying on the couch with my daughter, now I was
doubly confused lying here with my wife.

"So do you think that's a normal thing?" I asked.

"I don't know," she said, suddenly letting go of her bush and rolling over
on her side with her face practically pressed into my cock. With her right
hand, she took my tired member and brought its head to her lips. She flicked
out her tongue and teased it, licking slowly around the tip of it, sucking
only the head of it into her mouth, only to roll it back out and take it
back in again at her leisure. I was hardening again, and she started going
down deeper and deeper, looking up at me while she took more and more of my
thick nine inches down her throat.

Then she stopped abruptly, as soon as my cock was back to complete and
throbbing erection.

"Be my Daddy," she said, her dark eyes smoldering, drilling fiery black
holes into my own. "Be my Daddy and fuck me."

 

After an unusually stressful week at work, it was finally Saturday, and I
was determined to do nothing at all but rest. My wife, Sarah, and our oldest
daughter, Rebecca, 15, had left early to go shopping, leaving me and our
11-year-old, Rachel, to sleep in.

I had risen earlier and showered and shaved, but returned to the bed to just
sit up against a pile of pillows and immerse myself in a book -- some
mindless piece of fiction I'd bought a few days before, hoping I'd find a
chance to get lost in it.

And lost in it I was -- forgot the whole world existed -- when I heard a
tiny voice at the bedroom door. It was Rachel. She had cracked the door
open, and about all I could see was her face peering politely in as she
said, "Daddy, I need a favor."

"Come in, sweetheart," I said. "What's up?"

"Can I borrow your bathtub?" she asked, opening the door and stepping into
the room. She wore her usual sleepwear of a t-shirt and panties, and her
long, wavy, near-black hair -- so much like her mother's -- was tousled by
sleep, adding a kind of wildness to her beautiful, milky-white face.

"Sure, baby," I said. "But what happened to yours?"

"Becca made a great big mess of the whole bathroom, and I don't feel like
cleaning it up," she said.

"Let her clean up her own mess, huh?" I said. "Just don't make a mess of
mine, ok?"

"Ok," she said. "And one more favor?"

"What, sweetheart?"

"Can I have one of your t-shirts?"

"Out of clothes, too?" I asked.

"Yes."

I started to get up and accommodate her -- then remembered I was naked
beneath the bedsheet that covered me from the waist down.

"Top drawer on the left," I said, nodding toward the dresser.

"Thanks, Daddy," she said, pulling a folded t-shirt from the drawer and
disappearing into the bathroom.

As the door closed behind her, my mind wandered back involuntarily to the
night, earlier in the week, in which she and I had found ourselves curled up
together on the couch in front of the TV, unable to sleep. I still had mixed
emotions over that moment. Holding my daughter close in my arms, I had
developed a hard-on and even come in my shorts, excited against my will by
the beautiful child in my lap.

Something in me -- call it the effect of centuries of Christian
civilization? -- told me I had been wrong, that I should be ashamed of
myself. But other things in me -- my intuitive sense that my physical and
emotional instincts, no matter how primal, should be trusted, among other
things -- told me that I should remain open to this new sensation involving
my daughter.

And in defense of that latter, my own wife -- my daughter's own mother --
had been amazingly unconcerned about the incident when I related it to her!

My thoughts on the matter swirled around lazily in my mind for a while, then
I turned back to the book I was reading, and to the escape it provided. By
the time Rachel emerged from the bathroom, so much time had elapsed that I
had forgotten she was there.

She stood at the foot of the bed, wrapped in a white terry towel. Her hair
-- a tangled mess when I saw it last -- was now perfectly coiffed, and she
had a sweet smile on her full, pouty lips.

"Can we talk, Daddy?" she said.

"Sure sweetheart," I said, setting the book aside. "What about?"

She didn't speak. Instead, she crawled up on the bed and rolled herself into
position in my lap, her back pressed against my chest, her head resting back
on my shoulder.

She turned her sweet face up toward mine, smiled a mischievous, girlish
smile, and said "Nothing!"

I gave her a squeeze, my arms wrapped around her. Her big, expressive dark
eyes, just like her mother's, were irresistible.

"Mmmm," she purred, still smiling. "That's what I really wanted."

I smiled too. And, not really knowing what else to do, I just held her close
and rocked her gently from side to side. I loved her, and felt it like a
warm glow all over me in that moment.

"Daddy?" she said, breaking the silence.

"Yes, baby."

"Would you kiss my neck again like you did the other night? It felt good."

"Yes it did, didn't it?" I said. But I was worried. Where was this going?
And at just 11 years old, should this child be initiating this kind of
contact with anybody, let alone her own father?

My hand shaking a little, I pulled back her thick hair to expose her creamy
white neck, and kissed it gently -- from just below her ear, then a little
lower, and lower, to her shoulder, and then back up again... freshly bathed,
so smooth and nice, it all felt too good...

She purred contentedly as my tongue and warm breath moved up and down her
neck, and she stretched out her arms and arched her back in response. But
with that amount of movement, her towel, only loosely gathered at the front,
came undone and fell open, exposing her body down to her waist.

If she noticed, she didn't care -- I stopped in my motions at that moment,
but she said, "Don't stop, Daddy. You feel so good!"

Her back still to me, I pressed my lips against the back of her neck, across
her little shoulders, and partway down her back. With each of my kisses came
a sweet "Mmmm" from my baby girl -- and with each of those, God help me,
came a new stirring in my cock, which was starting uncontrollably to harden.

Once again, I was terrified, and my heart pounded furiously. But my
movements began to pay less and less attention to my fears, and more and
more to my daughter's own, innocent desire to be pleasured.

No longer frozen by fear in my sitting position, I stretched out, rolled my
baby girl gently off my lap and onto the bed beside me, and threw back the
sheet to get it out of the way.

Her towel fell free completely, but I could not yet bring myself to look at
her nudity. Instead, as she lay there, smiling, on her back, I laid beside
her, propped up on an elbow, gazing deeply into her eyes.

"I love you, Daddy," she said, her own dark eyes reflecting my gaze.

"I love you too, sweet girl," I answered. My cock was rock-hard now, my
heart beating with excitement. I wanted her, yet was afraid to touch her.

"Kiss me Daddy," she said. "Please?"

"Oh I want to, sweetheart," I said, "How I want to! But I'm not really sure
we should."

"I see you kiss Mommy all the time," she said, plaintively. "And you love me
too, don't you? Doesn't that mean you can kiss me too?"

There was no point evaluating logic. She had convinced me -- even without
words. The look in her eyes had been enough. I bent toward her, gently
touching the tip of my tongue, then my whole mouth, to her full, pouty lips.

She was of course no experienced kisser; but her mouth soon learned how to
follow the movements of my own, and in a few seconds she was responding
eagerly, even darting her own tongue about in response to the motions of
mine.

It was too much. Still not yet wanting to look, I let my left hand move down
her side as we kissed, feeling her smooth skin all the way down to her hips,
where I slid my hand beneath them and gently squeezed at my daughter's tiny
buttocks.

She purred audibly, lifted her hips as I squeezed, and kissed me ever more
deeply. She was learning...

Still afraid to go further, I drew back, and looked once more into her face.
She showed no fear, only contentment. She smiled sweetly into my eyes.

"Don't stop touching me, Daddy," she said. "You feel good."

"And you feel good, too, sweetheart," I said. And finally, as I laid there
propped on one arm, I let my gaze wander down the length of her nakedness.
My heart rate quickened as I saw that my daughter's breasts were just
beginning to develop -- and that a tiny, beautiful wisp of jet-black hair
was sprouting at the top of her as yet untouched pubic mound. "You're a
beautiful girl," I mumbled on, my eyes returning to meet hers.

She raised up, placed an arm around my neck, and pushed me gently backward,
rolling me onto my back -- then rolled herself on top of me, stared
intensely into my eyes, and plunged her little tongue deep into my mouth
with what was quickly becoming her skill at kissing.

Suddenly, as we moved together in our embrace, the head of my throbbing cock
accidentally poked at her little pussy, and she reacted with a delighted
squeal.

"Oooh! Daddy has a rock again!" She rolled off me to sit up and stare at my
raging hard-on. She was silent, just looking at what she had never seen
before. I was uncomfortable, even embarrassed. It was rock-hard, desperately
in need of relief -- but what could I do? My baby girl finally turned her
head to look back into my eyes, her expression terribly serious.

"Can I touch it, Daddy?"

I couldn't speak. After a moment, I just nodded my head and shut my eyes. I
quivered as I felt my daughter's soft little hand pat gently at my nine-inch
erection -- her movements were tentative, curious, as though she were afraid
of hurting it. I continued to keep my eyes closed as she gradually lost her
timidity about it, getting bolder in her exploration of my member. She
squeezed it, pulled on it, stroked it, as though trying to figure out what
one was supposed to do with it.

I opened my eyes. My daughter's expression was serious as she looked down at
her tiny hands wrapped around my long pole, and involuntarily, my hips
lurched for a moment into a fucking motion, thrusting my cock up and down
between her hands. I couldn't stand it -- I was going to come just from
watching the beauty of her innocent explorations.

So, gently, I slid my cock out of her hands' embrace, and laid her back down
beside me. That sweet smile came back to her face as I stroked her hair and
her cheeks with my shaking hand; and again, I was filled with that burning
glow of love for her.

I kissed her deeply as my left arm reached through her legs to grasp her
buttocks, my wrist rubbing gently on her nearly hairless slit. My tongue
moved down to kiss and bathe her neck, then the space between her tiny
breasts, then on down to her navel.

Her breath came in audible sighs as I finally moved down to the space
between her legs. I hesitated, staring at the tiny tuft of black hair at the
top of her slit. My own little daughter's pussy. Rachel groaned as my hot
breath warmed it, and she raised up, seemingly involuntarily, pressing it
toward my mouth.

"Kiss me there, Daddy," she pleaded, "Please!"

Let me burn in hell, I thought, but I cannot resist this! I extended my
tongue and touched its tip to the very top of my daughter's little slit. She
gasped and bucked in response, and I dove in, gently at first, then
uncontrollably, licking and plunging at it with a tongue gone mad.

Rachel's hips bucked and lurched in response to each of my movements, and
she whined and whimpered breathlessly, sounding as though she was torn
between surprise, shock, and pleasure at this new sensation.

Suddenly, her thighs locked themselves around my head, sweet juices began to
flood my face, and her voice because a tiny close-mouthed scream that she
tried to repress -- then there was an ear-splitting "Ooohhh!" accompanied by
such a squeeze from her little thighs that I thought my head would be
crushed.

So she remained for a few seconds -- noiseless, her vice-like grip on my
head unmoved -- then she dropped limp and motionless flat on the bed. She
had apparently experienced her first orgasm; I didn't know enough to know
whether 11-year-old girls were supposed to have orgasms or not.

I looked at my cock. It was oozing with pre-cum. I moved up to again look
into my daughter's face. Her mouth was open with a look of surprise.

"Oh, Daddy," she whispered. "Oh, Daddy. What did you do?" I didn't know what
to say.

"I just did what people do who love each other," I said, finally. Some
moments passed, and Rachel's breathing slowed gradually down to its normal
pace -- while my cock, still unrelieved, twitched with the near-pain of its
throbbing erection. My daughter finally spoke, in a whisper.

"Do you want me to lick you there, too, Daddy?"

My heart took another life-threatening leap in response to her innocent
offer.

"Yes, baby," I said, my voice hoarse. "I'd like that very much." I laid
back, no longer able to hear the warnings rising in the back of my mind.

My daughter moved down and gently took my cock in her hand, and it was all I
could do not to come right then as I watched her touch the tip of her tongue
to its swollen head. It twitched uncontrollably as she cautiously licked all
around it, then down the sides of my shaft, then back up to the head again.

Not wanting to speak, I just pressed the head of it up against her lips --
and, as I'd hoped, she parted her lips and let me push it gently in. Only
the head and a little more went in, and I pulled slowly out, then back in
again, until she realized she could mimic the motion herself.

I was insane with desire as I watched my sweet child bob her head up and
down over the end of my cock; it was all I could do not to thrust too hard
and choke her; it was when, while she sucked, she looked up to rest her
huge, innocent eyes on mine that I lost it.

My penis exploded. Huge spurts of cum erupted, Rachel jerked back her face,
startled, cum dripping from her lips, and my cock just kept shooting loads
of it everywhere as I fucked crazily at the tiny hands that still gripped my
shaft as though for dear life.

It seemed a wildly pleasurable eternity before my hips quit thrusting
uncontrollably; and when it all came to rest, I still lay flat on my back,
my daughter beside me in my arm, her face looking into mine, her hand still
loosely clasping my spent penis. The last thing I remembered before falling
asleep was the sweet smile on her lips and her hoarse, whispered, "I love
you, Daddy."

How much later was it? We were still in that position when we awoke to the
sound of Sarah, Rachel's mother, coming into the room, home from shopping.

"What in the hell is this?" Her voice was not particularly angry, certainly
not loud -- just firm.

Oh shit, I thought. Oh shit. I had no idea what might happen next. And there
was absolutely nothing I could say. Rachel rolled sleepily out of my embrace
to sit up beside me on my right; I propped myself up on my elbows.

For a long time, Sarah said nothing. She sat down on the bed at my left, and
-- as though absentmindedly -- began fingering my flaccid penis, looking
like she was trying to find something to say.

Finally, she looked at Rachel and spoke.

"Are you ok, baby girl?"

"Yes, Mommy," Rachel said.

"Did Daddy hurt you?"

"Oh, no, Mommy," she said.

"What have you and Daddy been doing?"

"Sarah -- " I interruped.

"You stay out of this," Sarah said, again quietly but firmly. "What," she
repeated, "have you and Daddy been doing?"

"I don't know," said Rachel. "Just things. Things that feel good."

Sarah pondered for a while. She was still fiddling with my cock, apparently
unaware she was doing it; meantime, Rachel was watching the motions of her
mother's hand.

"Did Daddy kiss you?" Sarah said at last.

"Yes, Mommy."

"And you kissed him back?"

"Yes, Mommy."

Sarah looked into Rachel's crotch. "Did Daddy put anything inside you
there?" she said.

"No, Mommy," said Rachel. "I mean yes. He put his tongue there. Am I in
trouble, Mommy?"

"No, dear," said Sarah. "Did it feel good when Daddy put his tongue there?"

Rachel smiled slightly at the question, and my cock twitched in my wife's
hand.

"Yes, Mommy. It felt really good."

Sarah seemed to remember that her hand was on my penis. She looked at it.
Then she looked back at Rachel.

"Did you play with this?"

"Yes, Mommy."

Sarah began to pull and stroke at my cock, and, despite my terror in the
situation, it began to harden.

"Like this?" Sarah went on.

"Yes, Mommy."

"Did you do anything else with it?"

"Sarah, please!" I said. Rachel looked at me inquisitively -- did she not
understand why I was upset? -- then answered her mother.

"Yes, Mommy. I licked it, too."

"Show me," said Sarah.

"Oh shit!" I said. "Come on!"

Rachel looked at me again. God help me, I was hard again; and Sarah,
unconsciously squeezing almost painfully on my cock, fell silent -- just
staring deeply into her daughter's eyes, her full lips parted, her breath
coming unevenly. I wondered seriously whether she was getting off on this in
some way... Finally she spoke, her voice trembling.

"Sweetheart," she said, "why don't you let me and Daddy be alone for a while
now, ok?"

Rachel -- rather naturally, I thought -- seemed confused by her mother's
behavior. What did Mommy want? Was she angry? Was she not angry? Our
daughter got off the bed and started for the door.

"Rachel," Sarah said. Rachel stopped and turned back to face her mother.
"Don't you want to put on your clothes first?"

Wordlessly, Rachel went into the bathroom for a moment, then emerged wearing
the t-shirt she'd borrowed from me earlier, and went again to the door to
leave -- but stopped and turned before leaving.

"I love you, Daddy," she said, her eyes big and deep with emotion.

"I love you too, sweetheart," I said, attempting a smile.

Rachel left the room, and Sarah rose from the bed to stand at the foot of
it. There, she removed her shoes, jeans, and panties. Then she stepped
backward to lean against the dresser, her legs spread, her hand massaging
her thick, black bush. She HAD been getting off with the whole scene...

"You," she said, looking at me with something close to anger, but not
seemingly quite anger -- and still diddling herself as she spoke. "You are a
miserable, cock-sucking child molester." Her voice trembled, and her hips
shook, with the last two words. I didn't dare to say anything. She went on.

"And you..." She trembled still further, now seemingly near tears. "And
you're going to fuck our baby girl and you're going to forget I exist, and
you'll start fucking our other baby, and you, you..."

"Stop it, Sarah," I said, "you're losing it. I love you. What happened with
Rachel was an accident. Nobody planned it. I'll always love you, and you
know it."

Sarah continued sobbing -- yet continued digging at her pussy all the while,
gyrating her hips, apparently somehow getting off in some weird way with
this whole scenario. She hastily pulled off her sweater, shook out her
thick, black hair, and removed her bra, letting her beautiful, pendulous
breasts hang free.

A couple minutes more of just standing there, masturbating and crying at
once -- then she got on the bed, straddled me, and lowered herself over my
still-throbbing cock.

"Please fuck ME!" she cried. "Please fuck your big girl! She wants Daddy
too!" With that, she used a hand to press the head of my cock against her
dripping wet cunt lips, then slid herself down on it. In minutes, she was
riding it like a demented fiend, her wild black hair and huge breasts flying
in all directions.

I was approaching orgasm as I turned my head to the right just in time to
see that Rachel had silently reappeared at the door. Her eyes were wide
open, and her hand covered her mouth, as she watched what she hadn't
expected to see.

Sarah, unaware, rode hard, still sobbing, but noisily approaching orgasm
herself; Rachel stood motionless, apparently too captivated to move, her
hand still covering her mouth; and I came.

Bucking upward, hard against my wife's downward thrusts, I stared,
entranced, into Rachel's wide-eyed face as I shot load after load into her
screaming mother's womb.

As it all finally came to rest, Sarah collapsed on top of me, but I
continued to look at Rachel. We stared wordlessly into each other's eyes for
what seemed an eternity before, at last, Rachel turned -- seemingly
reluctantly -- and left.

The look in her eyes and the uncommon desire -- call it lust, I suppose?
lust for my own daughter? -- that I continued to feel for her, would remain
in the back of my mind, and would trouble me deeply, for days to come...

My wife Sarah lay sound asleep beside me while I -- yet again -- lay wide
awake, unable to sleep. And I wished that it had been the usual matters of
work that kept me awake; but now, and for the last few days, it had instead
been my relationship with our 11-year-old daughter, Rachel, that haunted
what should have been my sleeping hours.

Over the past week, we had had two instances -- both accidental, never
planned -- of sexual contact. The first had led me to orgasm; the second had
led us both to orgasm. With that second occasion, I had crossed over into
illegal territory: I had had oral sex, both giving and receiving, with my
11-year-old daughter.

I was terrified. And making it still more complicated, my wife was fully
aware of the situation -- indeed, she had caught our daughter and myself
sleeping, fully naked, in each other's arms the previous weekend. Her
reaction had been completely inscrutable: I still had no idea whether she
was turned on by the whole idea, repulsed by it, or wholly undecided. I had
seen evidence of all three possibilities.

But the fundamental truth was that I had fallen in love with my youngest
daughter. And I felt the sentiment was mutual. At every possible moment
since the last time we'd had sex, Rachel and I took any opportunity we could
to touch, to fondle, to tease, to kiss -- all the while feeling we were
hiding an illicit relationship.

I was in love with my wife. But I was in love with my daughter, too, in a
relationship that was following the normal course of a new love. Two
relationships going on in the same house. At all levels -- morally,
logistically, sexually, you name it -- it was terrifying.

On this night, the frustration was nearly unbearable. It had been days since
Rachel and I had "been together" in the way that we wanted to be, and my
libido was ablaze with desire for my daughter. As I lay looking at my
beautiful wife, sleeping deeply and peacefully beside me, my cock raged with
a hard-on brought about by my dreams of her baby girl.

On both of our previous occasions, Rachel had come to me, and things had
unfolded in a natural, practically accidental way. I had not yet consciously
and willingly initiated sex with my daughter. Nor had I yet completely
consummated the relationship -- she had not yet had me inside her.

Around and around it all went in my head until, finally, I could lie still
no longer. Naked and wearing a rock-hard, nine-inch erection, I rose quietly
from the bed and left the room. It had to happen tonight. I could no longer
contain it. The walk down the hallway to my daughter's bedroom seemed like a
hundred miles...

Just like her mother, Rachel lay asleep on her back, naked atop her bed, her
sweet, white face surrounded by her near-black tangle of long, thick hair.
Pale light from the window illuminated her tiny, budding breasts as her
chest rose and fell lightly with her breathing, and the slight wisp of black
hair at the top of her pubic mound was vividly pronounced against the silky
whiteness of her skin.

As gently as I could, I laid down beside her and watched as her eyes
eventually flickered open to find me there. Rather than the surprise or
initial fear I expected, she reacted only by quietly turning her head to
look into my eyes, and by smiling a sweet, irresistible smile.

"Daddy," she whispered. "I'm so glad you're here." She raised up her head
just high enough to touch her lips to mine and kiss me, teasing my tongue
with her own -- then my lust took over completely.

"I want you, sweet girl," I whispered hoarsely as I laid fully on top of her
and delved my tongue deep into her mouth while my hips, already moving with
an animal rhythm, humped uncontrollably against her, the base of my raging
cock grinding hard into her pubic region.

Rachel groaned luxuriously, spreading her little legs, and clasping her arms
around my neck, pulling my kisses deeper and deeper into her mouth before,
after a moment, pulling her head free and whispering, "I want you too,
Daddy! I want you inside me!"

This was the moment of which I had been the most terrified -- and the moment
for which I felt I'd been waiting a lifetime. Moreover, Rachel had
apparently been lying here night after night as obsessed with the thought as
I had been. Tonight, it seemed, we were both in no mood to waste time. We
were ready.

"It's going to hurt like hell, sweetheart," I said quietly. "You know that,
don't you?"

"Yes, Daddy," she said. "But I don't care. It has to happen sometime!"

I groaned with desire, wrapping my arms around her and squeezing her whole
body close to mine. I was in love with her, in love with the confident
resolve with which she was determined to have from me what she wanted.

Caressing her neck with my kisses, I reached down to touch her tiny pussy.
With a single finger, I found she was already damp; I slid my finger gently
in -- and her hips bucked madly upward as she tried to suppress the shaky
"Ohhh..." that came from her lips.

"That feels so good, Daddy," she whispered, panting, as I slowly made love
to her with my finger.

"It doesn't hurt?" I said, looking into her eyes for signs of pain or doubt
or second thoughts.

"No, Daddy. It just feels good. Don't stop!"

With a care and slowness that was incredibly difficult with the white heat
that burned in my groin, I gently added a second finger. Rachel caught her
breath, stopped breathing for a moment, then for the first time began
bucking around a bit, now humping back against my fingers, eagerly moving
herself farther and farther down on them.

She was so tight that I was afraid of hurting her. But she was unbelievably
wet, and her whole body had begun moving rhythmically with her hips as she
responded pleasurably to my manual stimulation.

She sighed, she kissed me, she groaned, squirmed, and sighed some more as
she humped my fingers with greater and greater enthusiasm, seemingly lost in
this new pleasure. At last, she pulled herself away from my hand and looked
me right in the eye, one sweet white arm wrapped around my neck.

"I'm ready, Daddy," she whispered. "I want it now, ok?"

I moved my face down to trace the outline of her lips with the tip of my
tongue. I kept my mouth close to hers as I moved; I wanted to feel -- not
just hear -- whatever sound might come from her lips...

Carefully, I rubbed the throbbing head of my cock around in the wetness of
her crotch, letting it find the point of entry. As I rested it against her
unviolated opening, my daughter sighed, and tried to wiggle herself down
against me.

Ever so gently, making sure it was covered in her juices, I pressed the head
of my cock on in -- just the head -- and moved it gently in and out as she
adjusted to its size.

"Oh Daddy," she whispered, nearly whimpering, "Oh Daddy, don't stop. Keep
going. I'm ready for more. Don't stop!"

My heart pounding, partly with passion, partly in terror at the fact that I
was actually fucking my 11-year-old daughter for the first time, I let a bit
more of my penis penetrate her -- then scared the hell out of myself when I
hit, and tore accidentally past, a tough barrier. Rachel reacted with a
sharp "Oh!" and became totally still for a moment. I'd broken her hymen.

My penis lay in a grip I'd never experienced before -- it was so tight as to
be painful -- and I whispered, "Are you ok, sweet girl?"

Tears welled up in my daughter's eyes as I looked into her face, but her
smile was sweet and brave.

"Don't stop, Daddy," she said. "We're making love now. Don't stop."

Moving with a caution that pained my eager, raging cock, I slid slightly
out, then back in, then back out, then in a little deeper -- deeper with
each slow, successive stroke -- until, by now, nearly half my penis was
buried in my daughter's sweet pussy.

Her mouth was open, she breathed heavily through it, and her eyes were wide.
But she gradually began rising upward to meet my slow thrusts, seemingly
anxious to take more and more as she found herself able.

Finally, my whole length was buried in her, and I stopped in just that
position, nearly in pain with the tightness of it.

"Rachel, sweetheart," I whispered, my lips close to hers. "I love you. Are
you ok?"

"I'm ok Daddy," she whispered back, her little hands stroking my hair as she
spoke. "Make love to me, Daddy. Let's just make love."

Slowly, but feeling more confident now that the worst part was over, I began
fucking my daughter, sliding in and out while her feet gripped the backs of
my thighs, and her pelvis -- ever more aggressively -- began rising and
humping to match my rhythm.

The room swirled around in my eyes as we moved; I looked down to watch my
cock plunging in and out of this sweet, tight pussy; I looked up to watch my
daughter's face -- now almost smiling -- as her eyes rolled upward and her
head tossed from side to side, now and then uttering a surprised "Oh!" or a
luxurious "Mmmm..."

She was now fucking me as aggressively as I was fucking her; no longer was I
tentatively touching my virgin daughter. We were fucking, and fucking hard.
She bucked and moaned, she gripped me with her legs wrapped around my hips,
she squeezed me with her arms wrapped tightly around my neck.

"It's happening, Daddy," she suddenly whispered, without in the least
interrupting her rhythm. "It's happening again..."

My brain was on fire, only half hearing her as she spoke; my mind had moved
completely down to my cock, where I was plunging away madly at my daughter,
trying hard to hold back the irresistible urge to come.

"What, sweetheart?" I croaked, kissing and licking her neck as we banged
harder and harder together.

"The feeling," she whimpered. "That feeling. It's coming back... it's coming
back..." Her voice trailed off into a groan, and I realized my baby girl was
about to come.

"Make love to me, sweetheart," I whispered breathlessly. "Make love to me...
let it come..."

She humped at me harder and faster, her breath now coming noisily in
whimpers and groans -- then suddenly she stopped on the upthrust and
screamed, pressing her cunt all the way up at me while some muscle inside
her squeezed me so hard I thought I would break.

The moment seemed to last an eternity -- she was dead still, wrapped tightly
around me, with that twitching, internal muscle of hers threatening to choke
the life out of my cock -- then she let go and fell limply back to the bed,
leaving my cock to twitch wildly about in the air.

Her mouth and her eyes were wide open, and she looked at me with a look of
deep and utter amazement. "Daddy..." she whispered.

I could hold back no longer. Once I again got safely inside without hurting
her, I began stroking for home. She kept whispering, "Daddy, Daddy," and I
kept fucking her harder and harder until finally I had to explode.

Forgetting her size at eleven years old, I slammed hard into her with each
burning shot of thick cum that forced itself up from my loins, and forgot
where I was as the sound of my groans filled the room.

It seemed forever before the animal thrusts of my pelvis finally died out
and I came to rest, exhausted and sweaty, on top of my daughter.

"I love you, Daddy," she whispered, her big brown eyes staring up deeply and
seriously into mine. "I love you so much."

After a long while of lying there entangled together, I finally slid my
spent penis out of her and rolled over to lie beside her. She stroked my
face with her tiny hand, and I felt I'd died and gone to heaven.

"I love you too, sweet girl," I whispered, truly meaning it as I gazed into
her beautiful face. The smile she returned was enough to melt my heart.

I wanted to sleep there, but knew I dared not. "You know I can't stay, don't
you?" I said.

"I know," said my daughter, her smile saddening a bit. "Mommy wouldn't like
it."

While I was glad to see her consideration for her mother, it saddened me to
see that she was evidently conscious of what could become a rivalry. And it
frightened me to think that I myself could become the object of a rivalry
between my own wife and my own daughter.

I kissed Rachel one last time, long and deep, then whispered "Good night" to
her as I rose to leave the room.

"Good night, Daddy," she said, looking intently into my eyes, placing me,
rather than herself, in the position of having to break the gaze and turn to
leave.

I stepped out of her room only to nearly trip and fall -- for there was
Sarah, seated on the floor in the hallway, just outside the door. How long
had she been there? How much had she seen?

"Oh, God," I groaned, pulling Rachel's door nearly closed and standing there
for what seemed forever before sitting down opposite my wife. This was an
impossible situation. And growing worse.

"There's blood on your cock, you rapist," she said, showing no emotion
whatsoever in her voice. Like me, she had not bothered to dress before
leaving our bed; we sat there naked together in the dark.

"Mommy?" Rachel suddenly appeared in the hallway, having obviously been
startled by her mother's voice so near and so unexpectedly.

"And I'm the one," Sarah went on, as though ignoring Rachel's presence, "who
will have to change her sheets tomorrow. Think about that, you bastard."

"I'll do it," Rachel said, at this moment in which I wished she had remained
silent. "I'll change my own sheets."

"Come sit down," I said to our daughter, who stood looking at her mother and
myself with an air of innocent confusion. "Come sit beside me."

Rachel took her place on the floor with us. I wrapped an arm around her, and
the three of us sat there, regarding each other silently in the darkness.

"Rachel," Sarah finally said after an eternity of silence.

"Yes, Mommy," Rachel said.

"Do you love your Daddy?"

"Yes, Mommy. Very much." Rachel squeezed my thigh as she spoke, and I saw a
flash of something -- I could not tell what -- cross my wife's dark,
beautiful, fiery eyes.

"Well," said Sarah, "So do I. You know that, don't you?"

"Yes, Mommy."

After another very long pause, Sarah spoke again. Her voice was a little
distant or remote, as though she were thinking out her thoughts even as she
attempted to express them.

"And I wonder where Rebecca fits in with all of this," she said. Rebecca,
our 15-year-old, lay sleeping in her bedroom down the hall, apparently still
unaware of any of this.

"How do you mean?" I said.

"I don't mean," Sarah said quietly. "Just trying to think."

Both physically and emotionally exhausted, I sat essentially in a stupor, my
arm around our daughter, my eyes on my wife's naked, unspeakable beauty, and
my mind blank. I was beyond thinking.

"Rachel," Sarah said at last.

"Yes, Mommy."

"We all need to go back to bed. Come sleep with your Daddy and me. We
mustn't forget that we all love each other. You and Daddy don't need to hide
from me anymore..."

It was early Saturday evening, and my 11-year-old daughter, Rachel, and I
sat together on a couch in the den, waiting for Sarah, her mother, to finish
dressing.

Sarah and Rachel were on their way to some kind of mother-daughter dinner at
the church, and I and our other daughter, Rebecca, 15, were to be left at
home to fend for ourselves for the evening.

The situation between myself, Rachel, and Sarah continued to be awkward.
Even though my wife seemed to be somewhat accepting of -- or maybe just
reluctantly resigned to -- the sexual relationship between myself and our
youngest daughter, there were still little hints of tension. And I was still
quite uncomfortable, myself, about how to manage these two, separate, loving
relationships under the same roof.

Meantime, as we waited on the couch, Rachel -- all dressed up in a dark
green dress, and even heels -- sat contentedly beside me, my arm around her
shoulders, my hand stroking her hair, until her mother at last appeared.

She, too, was dressed to kill, in a shortish black skirt, black stockings
and heels, and a clingy, wine-colored silk blouse. Rachel and I rose from
the couch; and I blushed as I realized that the beginnings of an erection
were obvious beneath my jeans.

"Like rabbits, you two," said Sarah, not smiling. "Can't keep your hands off
each other." Despite her words, she moved close to me and pressed her body
against mine -- reaching down to squeeze at my hard-on before touching her
lips lightly to mine, being careful of her lipstick. The movement seemed
obviously intended for our daughter's benefit, a sign that my wife still
claimed ownership.

Standing back, I looked at both of them, not really knowing what to say.
They were amazingly alike, the two of them. Long, thick, curly, near-black
hair, big, beautiful, electric brown eyes, and full sensuous lips. In a way,
it was as though I lived with just one woman as she was at the age of 34 and
at the age of 11 -- both incarnations at once -- and I was madly in love
with both of them!

"So what are you and Becca doing for dinner?" Sarah said.

"We'll probably go eat out someplace and maybe see a movie," I replied. "I'm
not much in the mood to do leftovers."

"Well," Sarah said, "just don't forget to drop those papers by Gabby's
place, ok?"

Gabby was Gabriela, Sarah's older sister, who lived across town. Their
parents were in the process of re-doing their will, and some papers sent to
Sarah for this purpose needed now to move on to her sister.

"I'll do it," I said.

"We should be back before midnight," she said, turning to leave. Rachel
followed, but turned just before leaving the room.

"I love you, Daddy," she said, her bright eyes smiling into mine.

"Love you too, sweetheart."

As I heard the front door close, I went looking for Rebecca. She had always
been the quieter, more independent of our two children. She was no less
beautiful than her mother and sister, but seemed more content than most
children to spend time by herself -- enjoying time spent with the rest of
us, but in no way dependant on it.

I found her curled up in a chair in her bedroom, reading a book, dressed
frumpily in jeans and a t-shirt. Her long, brown hair, a little lighter and
straighter than her sister's, nearly hid her face until she looked up at me
as I entered the room.

"So," I said, "have you decided where we're going tonight?"

"Hmm," she said, looking thoughtful. "I kind of forgot to think about it at
all. Let me think..."

I grinned as I watched the wheels turn in her head until, at last, she spoke
again.

"Yes," she said, "I have it. You're going out for a while. Make it a couple
of hours. And when you come back, dinner will be ready. I'm cooking
tonight."

"Well," I said, smiling, "this'll be a first. I don't think you've ever
cooked for me before. Should I trust this?"

She responded with a rather intriguing smile, her dark eyes alive with
something indescribable.

"It'll be the best dinner you ever had."

At fifteen, she was quite the little grown-up, and I was proud of her sense
of independence and self-confidence. What could I do but trust her?

"Ok," I said. "I'm headed to your Aunt Gabby's for a while. Call me there if
you need me, and I'll be back in a couple of hours."

"Take your time," she said, still smiling, and I left.

Things were most odd at Gabriela's. I had always made a point of spending as
little time around her as possible -- for the simple reason that I didn't
trust myself around her.

Just a year older than Sarah, she looked very much like her sister: the same
piercing, brown eyes, the same luxurious raven hair, the same smooth, olive
skin. But unlike Sarah, who -- though by no means overweight -- was
voluptuous in her build and movement, Gabriela was thinner, straighter, with
smaller breasts and a more athletic build and carriage. To look at her was,
to me, the tantalizing experience of looking at what you might call a
different "version" of my own wife.

She seemed to be wearing only a t-shirt, barely long enough to cover her
private parts, when she answered the door. Her hair damp, she had evidently
just left the shower. I handed her the envelope as she let me in; she tossed
it on the coffee table, motioned me toward a big, leather chair, and sat
down on the couch across from me, her legs curled up beneath her.

She seemed a little nervous -- perhaps it was her state of undress? -- at
first, but relaxed a bit as conversation ensued. I hadn't seen her in
several weeks; we made small talk about my "dinner plans" later in the
evening, about the church dinner Rachel and Sarah were attending, and about
how Gabby's ex had finally stopped causing problems and begun paying his
child support dependably.

Then she turned nervous again as a male voice issued from farther back in
the apartment.

"Mom!" It was Julian, her 16-year-old son and only child.

"Yes, baby," she shouted back.

Julian didn't respond. Instead, he just appeared in the entrance to the
living room -- buck naked, holding a towel, his hair still wet, and carrying
a monstrous erection.

"Oh shit!" he said, not realizing until just this moment that his mother had
company. As quickly as he had appeared, he disappeared back down the
hallway.

"What the hell was that?" I said, a little taken aback.

"Just a kid with a hard-on," said Gabriela, very nervously attempting a
giggle. "Surely you used to get them yourself?"

I grinned at her, concealing my real thoughts. What the hell was going on
here? Sure, I had hard-ons at sixteen. But I never followed one, naked, into
the same room with my mother! And Gabriela knew, I could tell from the
shakiness in her voice, that I knew something was up.

As I rose to leave, a little later, she stopped me at the door. She took my
hand and looked deeply into my eyes, her expression somewhere between
inquisitive and desperate.

"Don't think wrong things about what you saw, alright? And for God's sake
don't say anything to Sarah."

I pulled her toward me, kissed her on the cheek, and said, "Don't worry.
It's none of my business anyway, now is it?" I smiled -- a real smile, since
I was terribly fond of Gabby regardless of what I might not have known about
her -- and left.

As though, I thought to myself as I started the car, I didn't have a few
secrets of my own...

I arrived home to find a yellow post-it note on the front door. "Enter
quietly. --R.," it said. What the hell did that mean? I wondered. I don't
typically enter the house shouting!

Charmed by the girlish handwriting, and wondering what my sweet Rebecca was
up to, I just smiled, opened the door quietly and let myself in, and closed
the door as quietly as I could behind me.

And there, on the mirror in the foyer, was another yellow square. It said:
"Don't look for me. I'm busy preparing your evening. Go take a shower and
get dressed for dinner. --R." Hmm... I'd never played follow-the-notes with
anyone before. I humored her, and headed for the bedroom and the bath, where
I dutifully got in the shower.

When I emerged, I found yet another post-it note -- this time on the mirror
over my dresser. "The mood for the evening is formal! Please dress
accordingly. --R."

I wasn't sure whether to be annoyed or to find humor in all this. I chose to
relax and smile while putting on a white cotton dress shirt, dark dress
slacks, and a tie. What was this child up to? Whatever it was, I realized I
must be taking it more seriously than I realized when I found myself back in
the bathroom, inspecting myself in the mirror to make sure I looked good
enough for the occasion!

And there was yet another note -- this time on a full piece of paper slipped
under the door -- when I returned to the bedroom. "Dinner is served in the
dining room. Please don't let it get cold. --R."

The dining room was typically reserved for special occasions just three or
four times a year. The rest of the time, if the family managed to dine
together at all, we did so in the kitchen. A tie? The dining room? Was she
digging out the good china as well? I just shook my head and headed for the
dining room.

And my heart jumped into my throat when I got there. There was my
15-year-old, looking anything other than fifteen. Her long brown hair was
tied at the back and wrapped attractively into a kind of bun at the base of
her neck. She wore a short, black, sleeveless shift-like dress, black
stockings, black heels, and dark, red lipstick. The contrasts between her
milky white skin and her dark hair and dress, between her youth and her
un-childlike appearance at this moment -- all of it took me by utter
surprise as I entered the room. She looked too beautiful.

Only when I recovered my own momentary daze did I realize that she, too, was
a little nervous. She stood beside the table; the room was lit only by the
candles she'd arranged on it; and her voice shook just a little as she said,
so sweetly, "You look very nice, Daddy."

That totally disarmed me -- I looked nice! -- while I stood there
transformed by a kind of beauty I'd never seen in her before. I took her
hands in mine and looked into her eyes -- and found myself unable to say
anything.

"Have a seat, Daddy," she said at last, breaking the awkward silence.

Dinner was something of a blur -- aided, I'm sure, by the wine that my
daughter had poured for me. The food was excellent; I had no idea, before
then, that Rebecca had taken up cooking. But it was my daughter herself who
was the cause of the rising fever on my brain.

Beautiful as she was, there in front of me, and elegant as were her
movements -- so suddenly adult did she seem in that moment -- I felt as
though I were out on a date with someone whom I desperately wanted to please
and impress.

"Daddy," she said at one point, her brown eyes peering deeply into mine,
"you have such a dreamy expression on your face! What are you thinking
about?"

"Just -- just how beautiful you look tonight." I felt a little stupid, a
full-grown adult stumbling over his tongue, made speechless by a mere
15-year-old.

"You seem nervous," she said, with the beginnings of a smile. She rose from
her chair and moved to my side, taking the bottle of wine and refilling my
glass. My heart rate sped up when she managed, in this movement, to press
her body against my arm; her warmth, her closeness, the scent of her
perfume, all combined to make me put my arm around her waist and pull her
even closer.

She didn't resist. Instead, she bent slightly over to put her arms around my
neck and sigh, while my hand wandered up and down her back, straying down to
touch -- ever so lightly in my nervousness -- her sweet, round bottom
through the tight black fabric of her dress.

Then, realizing what I was doing, I dropped my arm to my side and took a
deep breath, trying to maintain control of myself. I couldn't do this.
Things were already too far out of hand in this household!

"You seem afraid to touch me, Daddy," Rebecca said, letting go of my neck
and resuming her full height beside me, rubbing my shoulder with her hand.
She again pressed herself close to me -- Dear God, did she know what she was
doing? -- and said, "I'm not going to break, you know."

"I know," I said, rising from my chair, feeling the need to break free of
her closeness. "It's just that..." I couldn't find words.

"I think I know," Rebecca said, taking my hands as we stood facing each
other. "I think -- " she began, now seemingly herself having difficulty with
words -- "I think that maybe you have some feelings that you're not telling
me?"

The blood, warmed by the wine, pounded in my head as I looked at my daughter
-- her beautiful face, so expressive in this moment; the creamy whiteness of
her neck; the top of the sweet crevice between her breasts, just visible
thanks to the low curve of her dress -- and I stood motionless, still
paralyzed with fear.

"Daddy," she said, pulling me closer and placing my hands on her shoulders,
"please touch me. Stop being afraid. Just please touch me."

I took her face in my hands; her eyes looked up deeply into mine, and her
lips parted slightly; her hands, still on mine as I held her face, trembled.

"What are we doing?" I whispered.

"We're making love," she whispered back. "Kiss me, Daddy. I want you."

The child was seducing me, and I could no longer resist. I dropped my hands
from her face and grabbed her tightly around the waist, pressing my lips to
hers, and my groin into her belly. She moaned luxuriously as I delved my
tongue into her mouth, and my cock began already to harden as I felt my
daughter -- where had she learned this? -- meld herself closer and closer to
me and return my kiss with a passion equal to my own.

"Where does this come from, sweetheart?" I said, pulling back a little,
still scared out of my wits. "This is scaring the hell out of me! I didn't
know you had this in you!"

"Daddy," she said, her voice plaintive, even a little impatient. "It was
going to happen sometime. You know that. And you've wanted it. You just
didn't know until now that I've wanted it too. Please, Daddy, just make love
to me!"

This child, at fifteen, was already a woman, and irresistible. And with
those words of hers -- so adult, so perceptive -- my sense of conscience and
caution died on the spot and I let go.

I turned her around, her back to me, and held her close with an arm around
her waist as I caressed her smooth, white neck with my hand, then let my
hand wander down to her breasts. My breath was uneven with excitement as I
explored them through her dress -- already the size of apples, they were
going to be her mother's large breasts in time. And dear God, I felt her
nipples growing erect through the fabric.

"Good, Daddy," she whispered. "It feels good... don't stop." I took my arm
from her waist and placed one hand on each of her breasts, fondling them --
no, lewdly groping them! -- while her beautiful bottom pressed backward
against what was now my complete erection. In that position, I found myself
involuntarily dry-fucking her ass until, suddenly, she wrestled free and
turned around to face me.

She moved me backward to the table and reached up to loosen and remove my
tie. My cock strained against my pants as she said, "Unzip me, Daddy."

Reaching around her neck and through her hair, I found the zipper of her
dress and lowered it, never removing my eyes from the open-lipped look of
nearly unnatural -- animal -- passion on my daughter's face. She was without
doubt her mother's daughter.

She wriggled around to let the dress fall down to her waist, and loosened
her hair to let it fall free, a long brown cascade around her face, across
her white shoulders, and between her breasts. Her sweet, pink nipples were
fully erect, and she just stood there, looking expressively into my eyes.

"I think you're still afraid of me," she whispered, with a little smile.

She reached forward to begin unbuttoning my shirt as I caressed her face
with my hand. My mind wandered in this moment; this was happening in such a
surreal way, and in a way so different from what had happened with my
younger daughter. Rebecca, almost without asking, was just taking what she
wanted -- and I was offering no resistance!

My mind snapped suddenly back to alertness when I realized she had unbuckled
my belt and was loosening my fly. In an instant, my cock had sprung free and
stood at attention, obscenely huge and erect, in front of my daughter.

Cautiously, as though afraid of breaking it, she took it in both her hands,
and began feeling it, fondling it, curiously. Then, seeming sufficiently
familiar with it, her eyes moved away from it to look up into my face. As I
half-sat, half-leaned against the table, she looked wordlessly into my eyes
as she began stroking my penis -- slowly, luxuriously jacking me off.

"Oh Christ, stop it!" I said, after a few moments. "I can't stand it!" I
tore off my shirt and struggled out of my shoes and pants -- and pulled my
daughter's dress, only barely clinging to her anyway, the rest of the way
down -- to find that her stockings were thigh-highs and she wore no panties.
My cock twitched visibly as I stood staring stupidly at her nakedness.

"Do you like it, Daddy?" she said, smiling. "I did it just for you."

I grabbed her, nearly violently, and pressed her whole body tightly against
my own, my rock-hard penis grinding into her belly. My arm around her waist,
I grabbed her hair with my other hand and pulled her lips to mine, burying
my tongue in her mouth, and nearly coming with the excitement of how her
tongue fought back, dancing lewdly with my own in her mouth.

This child -- so different from her sister, and no matter how seemingly
quiet and mature -- was innately a slut, a nymphomaniac, like her mother! No
wonder, I now understood, no wonder I felt so different in taking this one
of my daughters from how I felt in taking the other!

"Daddy," Rebecca said suddenly, pulling away from our kiss. I looked into
her face to find a very serious look in her eyes. "I want this to happen in
your bed."

I had no words. I simply swept her up into my arms, carried her to the bed I
shared with her mother, and all but threw her on it. Flipping on a lamp, I
stood beside the bed, my cock still standing at attention, and stared at my
daughter, who lay propped up on her elbows and staring back.

Her little breasts rose and fell with her heavy breathing as I devoured her
slowly with my eyes. The naturally full, black bush at the top of her
whore-like stockings was, unlike her mother's, neatly trimmed and thinned,
easily exposing her slit; and just a hint of her inner lips protruded,
glistening with moisture in the dim light of the lamp.

"Make love to me, Daddy," she said, the silence finally broken. "Please.
"Make love to me."

As soon as I moved onto the bed, Rebecca seemed to take over completely. She
rolled me onto my back, rolled herself on top of me, and began kissing me
with a passion the likes of which I had no idea could exist in a
15-year-old.

With both my hands, I grabbed the sweet cheeks of her ass and squeezed hard
as the moist opening between her thighs teased the throbbing head of my
cock. She moved almost compulsively, seemingly unable to be still. It was as
though she was at last devouring something she'd craved for a long, long
time.

Suddenly, she jumped up, and moved forward to stand on her knees, straddling
my face. Her sweet pussy was just inches from my nose, and I looked past it,
up her smooth belly, past her quivering breasts, and into her face.

"Can I do this, Daddy?" she said, as though she needed permission. Where had
she learned all this? Had she been reading it in books? Rather than speak, I
took hold of her thighs and gently pulled her 15-year-old womanhood down
onto my face. My tongue moved up and down her little slit, teasing her,
before finally plunging in, making her whole body buck and jerk as I began
fucking her with my tongue. Why did I feel no need to be gentle with this
child?

Unable to remain upright on her knees, she fell forward to support herself
with her hands, her pussy grinding hard into my face, her breath coming in
increasingly noisy gasps.

Then she moved yet again, her crotch still glued to my mouth, but her head
now facing the other way. Supporting herself with one hand on my thigh, she
used her other to take my cock and begin stroking it in earnest --
masturbating me while my tongue plunged away at her wetness.

I rolled us both over on our sides and rather forcibly pressed her head down
toward my cock, where she took the hint and -- with no hesitation at all --
eagerly took it into her mouth and began sucking it with abandon, all the
while making muffled groans around it in response to the action of my
tongue.

Suddenly, she let go of my cock and seemed to stiffen; her thighs, wrapped
around my head, tightened horribly and, as I pressed harder into her little
clitoris, drawing rough circles around it with my tongue, she began
screaming at the top of her lungs. She was coming so hard she was trying to
crawl away from it; and I just hung onto her hips and pressed her harder
into my face, not letting her get away until, at last, the screams subsided
and she grew limp and lay still.

"Are you alright, sweetheart?" I whispered, my voice hoarse with the
excitement of my still unrelieved cock.

She didn't respond. Instead, she rose up slowly, rolled me back onto my
back, and straddled my thighs, facing me, and taking my aching cock into her
hands. It looked huge up against her smooth, white belly as she stroked it
slowly, staring into my eyes.

"I've never done this before," she said quietly. "Is it going to hurt?"

"Probably," I said, my hips beginning to move in response to her stroking,
my cock wanting to explode and trying hard not to.

"I want to do it this way," she said, raising herself up and placing the
head of my penis up against her wet opening.

"Please be careful," I said. "Please don't hurt yourself."

The sensation, for me, was somewhere between excruciating and exquisite as I
watched my daughter trying ever so slowly to slide herself down onto my
nine-inch cock, and watched the expressions on her face while she did so --
wide-eyed pain for a moment, open-mouthed pleasure the next...

Once the head was fully in, she stopped there, seeming relieved that she'd
gotten that far, then smiling at me as she rode gently up and down on just
the head of it. Now comfortable with this much, she attempted more. A frown
wrinkled her forehead as she eased on down another half-inch, then another,
until she was about half-way. From there, then, she rode slowly up and down,
her own moisture and gradual relaxation making this much comfortable too.

"It's so big," she whispered, looking at it rather than me, still riding it
slowly, carefully.

"It feels good, sweetheart," I said, enjoying the calm look on my daughter's
face, while at the same time working hard to contain my impatient cock,
which was dying to start moving.

Finally, she decided to take the rest of it. Up and down, and down farther
each time, and interrupted now and then with a pained little groan, Rebecca
at last reached bottom -- and let go a long, sighed, "Mmmm" when she got
there.

She sat there, quite still, for a long moment.

"I felt that," she said, smiling, when my cock twitched involuntarily inside
her.

Then she raised up -- all the way up -- and slid all the way back down
again. And did it one more time. Then she took me a little by suprise by
what she said.

"I have you now," she said.

"Hm?" I said, by now gritting my teeth to keep from coming just from the
tightness of her 15-year-old pussy.

"I have you now, Daddy," she said again. "Now you're mine." And with that,
and with no warning, she started riding my cock like there was no tomorrow.
Her dark eyes flashed wild madness as she humped up and down, grunting
noisily -- "shamelessly" was the word that came to my mind -- and at last my
own hips let go and began slamming back into her downward thrusts.

Her breasts jiggled up and down as she rode harder and faster; I watched my
cock -- covered, to my alarm, with blood -- plunge in and out as she became
gradually noisier; and my brain became fevered as her features merged, in my
mind, with those of her mother, and she began shouting now, in words I
didn't expect, "Fuck me, Daddy! Fuck me!"

No longer content to lie back, I rose up to stand on my knees as she
continued to fuck me without interruption, her arms wrapped around my neck,
her pussy impaled on my cock -- then I let her fall to the bed on her back,
with me, now, doing the fucking.

Her eyes grew wilder, and her screams louder; I pounded her harder and
harder as she bucked and squirmed and humped hungrily around on my cock; the
room went around in circles as I lost track of where I was or who I was
fucking; and finally my cock blew up, shooting gallons of cum deep inside my
daughter while she screamed sharply in response to each of my orgasmic
thrusts.

But just as I started to come to rest, she screamed at the top of her lungs,
a look of wide-eyed anger in her face: "Don't stop! For God's sake don't
stop! Fuck me, God damn it!"

With what little I had left in me, I started moving again while my daughter
wrapped her legs around my waist and nearly squeezed me to death,
approaching another orgasm. With no rhythm left, I just tore into her,
thrusting as hard as I could, when I could, until at last she let loose with
a piercing scream that ended only an eternity later when she had simply run
out of breath and she fell, loosely and limply, back to the bed, quiet at
last.

The bed was covered in blood, Rebecca's whole pubic area was covered in
blood, and so was mine. She lay still, her eyes closed, her mouth open, only
her chest moving as she breathed heavily. I took her head in my arm, and
held it close to my chest. I, too, breathed heavily, exhausted. Rebecca, her
eyes still closed, put an arm around my neck.

In silence, my mind wandered aimlessly, confused. Now I had violated both of
my children. And how different they were from each other! With one, I felt
the tenderest, most innocent kind of love. And with the other? With Rebecca?
I didn't know. It wasn't love. It was pure sex. Just pure sex with a
daughter who'd chosen to have her way with me.

I felt sleep coming, and I had some vague kind of nightmare about Sarah and
Rachel coming home to a post-it note on the front door, to a trail of
clothes in the dining room and hallway, and to a pool of blood in the
bedroom.

Rebecca said something that I didn't hear.

"What, sweetheart?" I said. "My mind was a thousand miles away."

"She said it would be good. And she was right."

"Huh?"

"Making love to you," said my daughter. "She said it would be good, and it
was."

"She? Who?"

"Rachel."

It must have been between two and three in the morning when my wife, Sarah,
and I came home to a near-dark house on Saturday night. We'd been out, just
the two of us, looking for some other-than-ordinary fun.

It was our habit, once in a great while, to go out drinking and dancing, and
to look for an extra partner to share between us at a hotel. We'd done a lot
of drinking and dancing this time, but had found no one interesting enough
to consider picking up.

So now, here it was the middle of the night, I was dangerously horny and
unrelieved, while she was so drunk as to be nearly unconscious on her feet.

On stumbling into the living room, while trying as well to hold Sarah up, I
found my oldest daughter, Rebecca, 15, and Andrea, our 17-year-old sitter,
slouched beside each other on the sofa, their feet up on the coffee table,
staring sleepily into the TV set.

"Becca, sweetheart," I said quietly, "help me get your mother to bed. Be
right back, Andrea," I added, trying to smile through my exhaustion and
unrequited horniness.

Rebecca helped me walk Sarah to the bedroom, where I laid her down on her
side of the bed and switched on a bedside lamp. Back here in the familiar
light of home, my wife looked almost shamefully like a slut, dressed as she
was in the shortest possible of skirts, black thigh-high stockings,
painfully high heels, and a clingy, vivid blue blouse, without a bra,
unbuttoned nearly to her waist. Horny as I was, I was of a good mind to fuck
her blind in her sleep!

"Help her to get undressed and comfortable, would you?" I said to Rebecca.
"I'll go see Andrea out." I left my daughter there, sitting sleepily on the
edge of the bed, and headed back out to the living room.

Andrea was a pretty child -- very thin, almost flat-chested, with beautiful
blue eyes and long, straight blond hair. She, too, looked sleepy as I found
her standing and gathering her things, preparing to leave.

"Are you awake enough to drive?" I said, catching myself looking at her
tight blue jeans, and the nipples that protruded against the white cotton of
her t-shirt, rather than her eyes, as I should have while speaking.

"Yes, Mr. Braun," she said quietly, smiling.

"Call me Frank," I said, for the hundredth time in the two years in which
we'd made her a frequent guest in our home. "That 'Mr' stuff makes me feel
old."

"Ok," she said " -- Frank." My eyes watched her gorgeous little bottom
wiggle in the tight jeans as I followed her to the door, where she turned to
face me before opening it to leave.

"Uh, Frank," she said, with some obvious hesitation -- then stopped. A
question of some kind of importance to her was clearly written on her face,
but she couldn't seem to express it.

"Let it out," I said, smiling. "What is it?"

She paused, then said, "Nothing. Nevermind."

But her eyes remained glued to mine for a very long moment before she
finally turned, opened the door, and stepped out onto the porch. What was
she thinking, or trying to say?

She just smiled in an odd sort of way as she started her car and backed out
of the driveway; and it wasn't until I was back inside with the door closed
that I thought: Dear God, what if she knows things? Much, much had gone on
in this house in the last few weeks which, if known by the wrong people,
could very well land me in jail!

Perhaps it was for the best that my mind was so wrecked by exhaustion and my
crotch on fire with desire. Thanks to that, the worry was only momentary,
and I moved back down the hallway toward the bedroom.

And I stopped dead in my tracks on just stepping through the door. Our
daughter had taken an unexpected approach to undressing her mother. Sarah's
skirt and shoes were gone, her blouse was completely open and practically
off, leaving only her tiny black thong bikini and the stockings.

She was completely unconscious, still on her back, and Rebecca lay beside
her, facing me, propped up on one elbow, and was lazily -- luxuriously, even
-- rolling one of her mother's stockings down her thigh, removing it slowly
and obviously enjoying herself.

"What are you doing?" I stuttered from the doorway.

"Helping Mom get undressed," she said quietly, her eyes meeting mine. Her
gaze was teasing, and her tongue grazed her lips for an instant -- causing
an involuntary stir in my already hungry cock.

I was paralyzed for a moment by the erotic beauty of the picture. My wife,
practically naked, her voluptuous form and wild black hair spread
unconscious and completely vulnerable across the bed; and my daughter,
equally beautiful, bending over her, undressing her slowly, and boring holes
in my eyes with the fire that emanated from her own. What the hell was going
on here!

"I've never seen her naked before," Rebecca said, jogging me from my
paralysis. "She's beautiful, isn't she?"

"I -- " I had a hard time finding my words. "I had thought I'd be alone with
your mother tonight, sweetheart."

Rebecca left her mother's stocking rolled half down, and sat up in the
middle of the bed. She wore one of my own white cotton dress shirts, and her
face, surrounded by her long, brown hair, was radiant as she smiled and
spoke softly.

"But she's asleep," she said. "I'm sure I'd be much more fun." My heart
leapt a little as she began slowly to unbutton the shirt, and I felt my cock
beginning to come to life. One button at a time, ever so slowly, the shirt
was completely unbuttoned before I found my voice again.

"Not in here," I said. "Let's go to the other room."

My daughter looked at me wordlessly, right in the eyes, as she removed the
shirt altogether. She wore nothing else beneath it. And rather than
responding to me, she laid back down on her side, propped up again on an
elbow, and caressed her sleeping mother's smooth, olive neck. Her own,
nicely developing breasts pressed close to one of my wife's rather large
ones.

"No," she said quietly, still looking right into my eyes. "I want to do it
here."

A hot, red flush of something between anger and sorrow flew over me for a
moment -- this was an absurd situation! My daughter, just 15, was behaving
for all the world like a wanton, nymphomaniacal slut; and her mother, in so
many ways a true, proven slut, was naked and passed out drunk beside her!
What had gone wrong with this family?

I longed, in that moment, for Rachel, my 11-year-old, and for the pure,
innocent love that she and I shared together. Would we ever bring this
situation around to one of healthy, happy love among all of us? Or would I
live forever torn between sweet innocence and cheap, vulgar passion under
the same roof?

But by now all the blood had left my brain and moved to lower regions; the
flush was in my crotch, where -- moving as lewdly as my daughter -- I
unabashedly began stroking my hardening cock through my pants.

Rebecca was staring at me, tauntingly, while lazily running her hands up and
down her mother's unconscious nakedness.

"Leave her alone," I said. "She's asleep." And I got onto the other side of
the bed, pulled her away from Sarah, and pressed a long, hungry kiss onto
her mouth, veritably attacking her tongue with my own.

My cock was fully erect, already, as my daughter tore at my clothes, her
passion equal to my own. And once I was free of my clothes, her whole body
writhed and squirmed almost violently beneath me as I pressed my whole
weight on top of her, digging out the depths of her mouth with my tongue.

Suddenly, almost angrily, she pulled free of my kiss and whispered,
hoarsely, "In me!"

"What?" I groaned, consumed with passion.

"In me, Daddy! I want you in me! Now!"

She had spread her legs lewdly open, and her crotch seemed to beg noisily on
its own. I raised up and carefully positioned the swollen head of my cock at
her entrance to find that she was already wet -- there would be no need for
slow caution...

I watched her beautiful face as I sank my cock into her still-tight
womanhood: her eyes widened and her mouth opened with a tiny, breathy gasp
of pain, then she closed her eyes and smiled slightly as I reached bottom
and began stroking, all the way out, all the way in, over and over.

I felt as though my cock were twice its nine inches as I watched my
daughter's eyes darting wildly about, and her tongue licking lewdly at her
lips, as I fucked her; her pink nipples were erect as her breasts heaved and
bounced with each of my thrusts.

And I felt I would last forever; though I was hard as a rock, I had had so
much to drink that it could be, if I wished, a very long time before I came.

I lowered my upper body down onto my daughter's, burying my face in her neck
and shoulder, kissing and licking at her smooth, child-like skin, while
wrapping her tightly in my arms and pounding away at her pussy.

Her whispered gasps became groans, and then noisy grunts and whimpers of
pleasure, as she neared coming -- and then, almost without warning, she
wrapped her legs around my waist, squeezed hard, and screamed at the top of
her lungs. "Daddy! Oh Daddy! Yes! Fuck me! Fuck me like that!"

I pounded as hard and deep as I could, and her whole body shuddered and
shook as she came with a blood-curdling scream. And it was only when she at
last lay limp and still that I remembered her mother, beside us -- and
looked to find that, in response to the noise, she had simply rolled over on
her side, still drunkenly asleep, her back toward us.

"Get up, Daddy," Rebecca said suddenly, seeming impatient. "Get up." I
carefully withdrew my still-throbbing cock and rolled to my side, looking
into her face with a question on mine.

"Lie on your back," she said. I did, and she straddled my thighs, facing me,
and took my rigid penis in her hands. I watched as she stroked it, slowly,
seeming to enjoy how the foreskin rolled up and down its length. Then she
spread my legs and knelt between them, her lips so close to the head of my
cock that I could feel her breath, her beautiful brown eyes staring straight
into mine.

"I've been dying to do this," she said, her voice low and sultry. "All the
way. I want to take you like this all the way." My cock twitched in her
hands as she touched her tongue to its tip, teasingly flicking around it
before at last closing her mouth around its head.

I groaned as I watched her lower her head over my cock, moving up and down
slowly, taking a little more in with each downward stroke. Her dainty hand
clasped its base tightly, and my hips at last began thrusting upward into
her throat involuntarily as I found myself nearing orgasm.

I wanted this to last forever -- there is no describing the utterly
exquisite eroticism of watching my own 15-year-old daughter, her mouth
stretched almost painfully around my too-thick cock, her lips sloppy with
saliva, her nostrils flared, and her eyes wide open and staring wildly into
my own, as she hungrily fucked me with her mouth.

It was with almost animal brutality that my pelvis wrestled control from my
mind, and began pounding my pole deeper and harder into my daughter's mouth.
Sweet Rebecca kept her grip firm on my cock, and, though already gagging a
little, kept her mouth tightly sealed around me, meeting my upward thrusts
with her downward strokes, seemingly determined to pull this off
successfully.

And I could contain it no longer. Starting at the base of my spine, the
burning spasms came, and my loins, quivering and shaking, began forcing the
great loads of cum upward and upward until, at last, in huge, successive
spurts, I began filling my daughter's mouth with the thick, white liquid.

She gagged and gurgled, tears came to her wide-open eyes, but she would not
release her tight lips from my cock -- swallowing, difficult as it was, all
she could, with the remainder oozing out to coat her lips and drip down her
chin -- as I bucked and pounded uncontrollably.

Only when I had come completely to rest, limp and motionless, lying flat on
my back and breathing heavily, did she let go. She sat up on the bed,
looking sweetly into my eyes, and attempted a smile. There was something
obscenely angelic about her face in that moment; her long brown hair was
stuck to the perspiration on her white forehead and cheeks; her nostrils
flared as she began to catch her breath; and my cum dripped from her lips as
her mouth hung open with exhaustion.

I, too, was exhausted; all I could do was lie there, speechless, and stare
absently at my daughter as her breasts heaved with her labored breathing.

And I must have fallen asleep for a moment; for she was no longer there when
next my eyes came open. Instead, I found her beside me, slowly peeling her
sleeping mother's black thong bikini down her hips and thighs, pulling them
off.

I knew not what was going on, but in my exhausted daze I could only lie
there and watch, barely half-conscious. Rebecca had rolled Sarah onto her
back, and now the panties were gone, leaving only the black stockings.

Our daughter positioned herself on the bed between her mother's thighs, and
looked dreamily upward into her sleeping face. In that spot she remained for
a long while before, at last -- seeming as though she'd come to a difficult
decision -- she moved forward to touch her tongue to her mother's hairy
slit.

Was I dreaming? I knew what I was seeing -- and was not happy about it at
all -- but I found myself unable to move or to speak; perhaps it was the
alcohol and the exhaustion?

My daughter began cautiously to lick at her mother's womanhood, poking here
with the tip of her tongue, licking there with the entirety of it, becoming
gradually more comfortable with what she was doing.

It was only when Sarah began, in her sleep, to react to Rebecca's tongue
that I finally began to return slowly to my senses. My wife started
groaning, ever so lightly, and rolling her pelvis around in response to our
daughter's explorations; she grew gradually louder in her moans and little
gasps, and Rebecca -- evidently emboldened by this -- became gradually more
aggressive as she ate lustfully at her mother's pussy.

And only when it was too late did I wake up fully and realize that this
couldn't be. Suddenly, Sarah was awakened by the pleasurable sensations
between her thighs, opened her eyes, and managed to gradually look down,
focus, and realize what was happening.

"Oh my God!" she screamed, suddenly fully awake and struggling to move away
from Rebecca's face. "No! Oh no!"

And in a flash, my eyes moved from the horror on Sarah's face to the
indescribable look of anger on Rebecca's face -- to the bedroom door, where
Rachel had suddenly appeared, her expression lying somewhere between
innocent curiosity and pain...

"It's just something I'm going to have to learn to manage, learn to live
with," said Sarah, my wife, her voice quiet and pensive.

It was late at night. Our daughters, Rachel, 11, and Rebecca, 15, had long
since gone to bed; and we sat alone beside each other on the couch in the
den, dressed only in t-shirts, snuggling, feeling truly close again for the
first time in several days.

We had finally managed, this evening, to calmly and openly discuss the
relationships -- sexual relationships -- that had recently evolved between
myself and our youngest daughter, and then between myself and our oldest. I
had not sought out these relationships; they had just evolved in a more or
less natural way, and Sarah -- quite understandably -- though not entirely
disapproving, was very uncomfortable with the situation. And so was I. I
loved my wife, and had no desire to hurt her.

"It's just so easy to feel left out," she said, and I completely understood.
Especially in my relationship with Rachel, there had been up to now a
feeling of "keeping this away from Mommy," which had made both me and my
daughter feel as though we were hiding or even "cheating" behind Sarah's
back -- even though, of course, Sarah knew what was going on.

"I suppose," Sarah went on, "it was unavoidable. That I'd feel left out, I
mean. It was natural that if the girls wanted more than the 'usual' amount
of affection, they'd go to their Daddy, not their Mommy, to get it."

"That's probably the healthiest way to look at it," I said. "You weren't
being left out. You just haven't yet become involved in whatever's going
on."

"And of course I don't know how to get involved -- nor even know whether I
want to be. This is just something that's happened and, even though maybe
nobody's intentionally leaving me out of it, the fact is that I'm not a part
of it."

I was pleased that my wife was being as calm and rational as she was with
the situation. I felt that now, perhaps, we were about to reach a point
where the tension that had permeated our household for weeks might actually,
finally, dissolve.

"You very nearly were a part of it the other night," I said, reminding her
of our oldest daughter's rather surprising attempt to involve her mother in
what had been rather a bizarre session between Rebecca and myself. "But..."

"I know," Sarah interrupted. "But it scared the hell out of me. Caught me
totally off guard."

"Yes," I said, "and I'm not sure it was a particularly healthy thing just
then anyway. You were drunk, and she was being weird, really weird. In fact,
she had me pretty scared myself that night."

"I think," she said, "that I probably just need to relax, accept it, and
become part of it if -- and I guess only if -- it evolves naturally. God
knows I certainly can't stop or undo what's already happened."

I looked fully into her face as she spoke, reliving for the millionth time
the thrill my wife's beauty had never ceased to produce for me. Her gentle,
full-lipped smile, the magic and vitality in her huge brown eyes, and the
wild mane of long, curly, near-black hair that framed her face still
affected me as though I had only just today fallen in love with her for the
very first time.

"Just kiss me," I said, drawing her face close to mine, my lips parted,
awaiting the sweet touch of hers. She snuggled closer as I wrapped my arms
around her, and she kissed me with a passion I had not felt from her in
seemingly a long time. And as usual, in response to her practiced tongue
greeting mine, my cock, lying lazily across my thigh, began to stir and
twitch and begin its journey to erection...

But then a noise nearby startled us. One of the girls had stumbled into the
kitchen, apparently looking for a late-night snack. Sarah giggled and drew
back slightly, and I wrestled with the bottom of my t-shirt, trying to cover
the writhing, nine-inch snake beneath my belly.

"Who goes there?" said Sarah, faking a deep, threatening tone of voice
tempered by a mischievous smile that the kitchen intruder couldn't see.

In a moment, Rachel, our youngest, came wandering sleepily into the room,
also wearing a t-shirt. I was starting to think that t-shirts had become the
family uniform.

"Hi Mommy," she said, rubbing her eyes. "Hi, Daddy." I watched Sarah smile
lovingly at our daughter.

"What are you doing up?" she said. "Get hungry?"

"No," Rachel said, "Not really. Just woke up, couldn't go back to sleep."

"Well," said Sarah, "come sit with us, then. We can't sleep either."

Rachel climbed onto the couch and sat in her mother's lap, snuggling in
comfortably with her back pressed against Sarah's breasts, her head laid
luxuriously against her shoulder.

"I saw Daddy kissing you," she said, as soon as she became comfortable and
still. She looked up into Sarah's face as she spoke, her big brown eyes
practically a mirror image of her mother's eyes.

Sarah stroked the smooth white skin of our daughter's face and said,
smiling, "So you're spying on us, are you?"

"No, Mommy," Rachel replied. "I just saw you. It was an accident, I
promise."

"It's alright, sweetheart," Sarah said. "Daddy is a good kisser, isn't he?"

Rachel just smiled, in response, saying nothing, and turned her head to look
at me. The smile warmed me throughout, and doubly so when I saw that Sarah,
too, was smiling at me gently -- with no jealousy at all in her expression.

I leaned over to take my wife's face in my hand and kiss her again. Sarah's
kiss was warm, deep, and loving. But after a moment, she pulled back a
little and said, quietly, "I think poor Rachel wants her kiss, too."

Rachel, snuggled between us, smiled, closed her eyes, and puckered her lips.
I looked first into Sarah's eyes, and she, smiling, said "She loves you
too."

With that reassurance, I pressed my mouth gently to our daughter's lips,
touching my tongue to them as they parted to let it into her mouth, where
her tongue rolled lazily around in a loving dance with my own.

This moment was, for me, a sensation like none other I had ever experienced.
My daughter kissed me deeply, lovingly, while my wife, at last apparently
resigned to this relationship, ever so gently stroked the child's hair,
which was as long and black and thick as her own.

My cock, against my will, had popped obscenely out again from beneath my
t-shirt, and was rapidly growing in plain view to its full, happy size. My
right arm was extended around my wife's shoulders, my left hand was occupied
with the smooth skin of my daughter's face, so it was with desperate motions
of my hips that I tried, without success, to hide my
twitching penis.

But there was no use, for Rachel, still locked to my lips with a growingly
passionate kiss, took hold of my hard-on with her tiny hand, and began
gently stroking it. I groaned a little, and tried for a moment to pull away
-- I did not want to risk going further than Sarah might be comfortable
going -- but then my wife placed her hand over our daughter's hand, and it
was suddenly both their hands that slowly stroked my throbbing cock.

I drew back from Rachel's sweet kiss, rolled back to my original, straight
position on the couch, spread out my arms across its back, and sighed,
involuntarily, "Oh Jesus," as my two beautiful lovers, the younger in the
older's lap, gently manipulated my stiffening manhood.

"Rachel," Sarah whispered at last. "Make love to your Daddy. I think he's
been missing you."

Both of them let go of my penis, and Rachel looked sweetly into her mother's
face.

"Are you sure, Mommy?" she said, innocent affection radiating from her eyes.

"Yes, sweetheart," said Sarah, quietly, a gentle smile in her eyes. "I want
us all to be happy." She ran her hands once more through our daughter's
hair, then -- to my surprise -- reached down to pull Rachel's t-shirt up,
over her head, and off, revealing the entirety of her milky white nudity.

"You're beautiful, sweet child," Sarah continued. "Make Daddy happy, and
I'll just sit here beside you." Rachel smiled sweetly and pressed her cheek
close against her mother's before slowly rolling out of Sarah's lap and into
mine, facing me, my now fully erect cock standing straight up against her
smooth white belly.

I pulled her close to me, clasping her little bottom with both hands,
pressing her belly against my rock-hard pole, and lavishing her neck and
shoulders with my kisses while my hands began to wander luxuriously around
across the sweet, soft skin of her back and arms, and my pelvis began its
slow, rhythmic, involuntary grind.

Beside me, Sarah pulled off her t-shirt to become as naked as our daughter;
she slumped comfortably deeper into the sofa, pressing herself as close as
she could into my side. With her left hand, she clasped my right thigh as
though to steady herself while, with her right, she began slowly, almost
lazily, to masturbate.

Rachel seemed almost eager in her movements, pressing hard kisses to my
lips, wriggling around in response to the motions of my hands, and gradually
moving upward until the throbbing head of my penis touched her already moist
opening.

"I want you inside me, Daddy," she whispered, her beautiful eyes staring
deep into mine, her breath warm on my face. "Inside, Daddy, I want you
inside!"

Carefully, I held her hips to prevent her moving too quickly, and began
gently poking the head of my cock at her tiny opening; it had been so long
since I'd been inside my daughter I was afraid it would be, again, like the
very first time.

Just fractions of an inch at a time, it slid gently in; and with each new
inch, Rachel winced, smiled, and sighed nervously. It was, still, a terribly
large cock for so small a girl. And with each of her little sighs came a
muted gasp from her mother, whose eyes were fixed on our daughter's pussy,
with its tiny tuft of black hair at the top, as it slid ever farther down my
shaft. Sarah was getting off with this; her lips were parted, her breathing
uneven, and her hand dug ever more hungrily into her crotch as she pleasured
herself beside us.

At last, Rachel reached bottom, and sat motionless for a moment, the
entirety of my cock buried deep inside her.

"Does it feel good, sweetheart?" I said, admiring the look of sheer, quiet
pleasure on her radiant face.

"Yes Daddy," she said. "It feels so good. I just want to stay here forever."
I turned to look at Sarah, whose dark, flashing eyes still stared fixedly at
our daughter.

"She is beautiful, isn't she?" I said to my wife.

"My God," Sarah whispered hoarsely, "my God yes."

My cock twitched against my will inside my daughter as she smiled sweetly at
her mother's response. Then Sarah spoke again.

"Rachel, sweetheart," she said, her voice still uneven with nervousness,
"can Mommy kiss you? Do you mind?"

My heart leapt at this question. Was Sarah finally going to entirely relax
and accept the situation? And how would Rachel feel about this?

Our daughter's smile turned briefly into a look of curious confusion, then
as quickly became a smile again.

"Yes, Mommy," she said. "I'd like that."

Sarah sat up, moved forward, wrapped her arm around Rachel's neck, and drew
our daughter's lips to her own. I watched as Sarah's tongue darted hungrily
into Rachel's mouth -- and as Rachel quickly adjusted to the movements of
her mother's voluptuous lips and began returning the long, passionate kiss.

By now, I could no longer be still; I began slow thrusts with my cock into
our daughter's warmth, fighting off the sting of imminent orgasm, trying to
make it last as I watched my wife and daughter kissing curiously, hungrily,
at each other.

I took Rachel's right hand and cupped it around one of her mother's huge,
pendulous breasts, and watched her eyes grow large as she fondled a woman's
breast for the first time.

Her mother's lips still locked to her own, Rachel managed to utter a
pleasurably surprised "Mmmm," in response to this new experience, and I,
involuntarily, began fucking her harder, finding it more and more difficult
to contain my own excitement. Without interrupting my rhythm, I tore off my
t-shirt and tossed it aside, drew a deep breath and leaned backward to
better my view of this unspeakably erotic moment.

Then suddenly, Sarah drew back from our daughter's lips, and lavished her
tongue lovingly down Rachel's neck, to the space between her barely-formed
breasts, down farther to her milky white belly -- then veritably attacked
the top of her little slit with her tongue.

"Oh!" gasped Rachel noisily, as her mother's tongue dug and poked at her
clitoral hood. Sarah's great mass of hair covered my belly as her tongue
flicked frantically around, slipping now and then to graze my cock as it
pounded in and out of our daughter's warmth.

Rachel's eyes grew huge with curious pleasure; she grasped her mother's hair
as though for stability, and began suddenly to buck and hump desperately on
my cock -- her mother's tongue following her every motion -- and now she was
screaming and squealing involuntarily as her hair flew in all directions
with what was becoming her violently pleasurable ride to Nirvana...

It was with a nearly pained scream that she at last stopped dead on my cock
-- on the upstroke, with only its head remaining inside her -- and twitched
and bucked violently as Sarah's tongue brought her finally to a screaming
orgasm.

For what seemed an eternity, Rachel remained perched, motionless, at the top
of my throbbing penis, while her mother's head fell back to rest on my
chest, panting -- in this state of near motionlessness everything remained
until, with no warning, Rachel relaxed and rode my pole all the way back
down again, hitting bottom.

This was all it took to set me uncontrollably back into motion. Like a wild
man, I began fucking my daughter nearly violently, thrusting and banging
into her as hard as I could, the juices now welling up inside me, ready to
erupt.

Rachel bravely rode it out, while her mother, head still on my belly, knees
now on the floor, watched while masturbating furiously -- and then, just as
I could hold it no longer and was about to explode, I came out too far,
missed trying to get back in, and Rachel toppled to the floor.

"Oh my God!" I shouted, as my cum boiled up, ready to fly, my cock twitching
wildly in the air. Rachel, now on her knees, and her mother beside her, both
at the same time grabbed reflexively for my cock; and both of them, at the
same time, began stroking it furiously as the cum, in huge streams, flew
madly into the air to paint their faces and hair with long, glistening
strings of thick white liquid.

With what looked like a frantic motion, Sarah grabbed our daughter's hair
and pushed her face to my cock, and Rachel, seeming to instinctively know
what to do, took it eagerly into her mouth as I groaned with the last spasms
of my orgasm.

Sarah fell back to lean against the couch, watching our daughter suckle my
fading cock, and finally brought herself off with her hand, moaning
contentedly as she at last came to satisfied rest.

Once my spasmic motions had ceased, Rachel raised her head, the remains of
my cum coating her smile, and I will never forget the look in her eyes at
that moment: she looked at both me and her mother, and seemed, without
words, to be asking whether she had made us both happy.

Sarah reached out and pulled Rachel to her, enfolding her in her arms; and I
slid down to sit on the floor and embrace them both.

"I love you, Daddy," said Rachel, her hand massaging my arm as it hung
draped across her shoulder. "And you, too, Mommy. I love you, too."

I squeezed Sarah closer to me and kissed the top of her head.

"Does this mean we're all happy now?" I said quietly, smiling. Sarah turned
her head to look up at me and she, too, smiled gently.

"Yes," she said. "I think we're all happy now."

The voice from the shadow in the corner took all three of us by surprise. It
was Rebecca, our 15-year-old.

"Until Daddy fucks me again," she said, her voice angry, bitter. "And he'll
never want either of you again."

 

The End