"Hi Daddy!" chirped my eighteen-year old daughter as she came into the house. I had my back to her as I was busy preparing something for her to munch on, and she hugged me from behind. Her soft breasts pressed against my back, giving me a familiar sense of heat at the touch, but it was something I had learned to live with. Her hands snaked over my chest and brushed my lips.

"Hi sweetie-pie!" I replied, kissing her fingertips. Stephanie giggled. It was a lovely sound, ringing clearly in my ears.

"Hmmm! Smells nice... whatcha cooking?"

"Nothing special," I replied, "And what smell?" I never knew dough had a smell.

"I'm talking about you, silly," my daughter replied, giving me a playful jab as she moved a step backward. "Nice cologne. Very sexy."

"Thank you." It was not the first time she had commented that something was 'sexy' about me, and I have to admit that it was extremely gratifying to hear it from her lips. I mean, it's not everyday that I get complimented by a girl who is nothing if not a knockout. I turned around.

Stephanie leaned over and kissed the tip of my nose. It was a tradition that we had started back in her first grade, and it was something she hadn't yet gotten over. We were pretty expressive around the house, and although it did sometimes make me uncomfortable not to reveal how intensely I felt attracted towards my own daughter, I was careful not to let it on.

At just a couple of inches shorter than I, Stephanie had no problem in reaching my height. She was the only red-head on the block, with brown eyes and dark eyebrows. It seemed to give her a fiery touch, sensuousness into her friends-with-everybody approach. Her breasts - as a father, perhaps these should be beyond my scrutiny, but I have to admit that they were increasingly becoming more and more prominent to my eyes - were firm and high, at least a size bigger than her mother's.

Absently, my eyes swept over her body. The cheerleader's dress she had on revealed a lot of leg, lots more than I would have thought proper had I not been so interested in the view of the tanned flesh. They appeared sculpted, sinew and softness combined to make one deadly combination.

"Earth to Daddy! Earth to Daddy! Come in..." Her voice broke into my reverie.

"Oops!" I replied, embarrassed to have been caught ogling her. "Sorry, hun. How was practice today?"

She grinned at me. "Not bad. Not bad at all. All those boys were staring at me most of the time though, you know, just like you were, half a second ago."

I shook my head ruefully. "You really can't blame them. With legs like those, who needs - " I suddenly shut up, realizing that I had about to say too much.

Steph, on the other hand, wouldn't let go. She knew it was a compliment, and typical of girls, damned if she was going to let me off without hearing what it was. "Who needs... what?" She squeezed my palm gently. Her touch was soft. "Come on, Daddy, tell me. If you've got my legs, who needs what?" She puckered her lips, "Puh-leese!"

I had been about to say strangling-cord or something to that effect when the correct words came to me. "Anything else," I replied, "I mean, with those legs, who needs anything else?"

"Thanks," she said, giving me a peck on the cheek, "I think."

We have never been too modest inside the house - not that we were nudists, which would be an extreme - and walking around in my underwear was usually the way my bra-and-panties-clad daughter discovered me in the mornings. If my wife were also there, she would start off the day in just her panties. Thankfully, we don't have a son - the poor guy would have had more than enough trouble explaining his hardons over his mother's state of undress.

With such a liberal background, therefore, I was not very surprised when Steph whisked the top of her uniform over her head. It was the first Friday of her vacation, and the practice was the only thing on her calendar for the next two months, she told me, other than eat, sl**p and beach.

"I'll be doing the laundry soon," I informed her, "So as soon as you take everything off, give me a call. I'll pick up your hamper." I was surprised to see that she hadn't worn a bra underneath her top - instead, she had put on a bikini top that was little more than two triangles held together by translucent strings. It even left a little of the undersides of her breasts exposed.

Stephanie slung the top over her shoulder. "I'll go one better," she said, "I'll strip in the basement, dump everything into the machine, then dash upstairs. We've got towels down there, right?" She was obviously referring to the cache of fresh towels that we stored in the basement.

"I guess," I replied, not just a little mesmerized by the way her cups strained the blue bikini top. "Look-see. I already emptied your hamper earlier today."

"Okay." I watched her walk down the hallway and turn into the staircase that led down to the basement. The thin string of the top was invisible against her back, and I groaned inwardly. From where I stood, she looked as if she were baring her tits. Ah, how I wished it were so!

Presently, within a minute, she called out to me. "We haven't got any soap."

"Sure we do, hun," I replied. "I'll be down in a sec."

"NO!" she shouted back. "I mean, I don't have a stitch of clothing on. And this darn towel is a little too short... I'm gonna dash upstairs, Daddy! Close your eyes, and don't peek!"

"Okay, Steph." In spite of all the openness, I had never seen my daughter naked. Not even a single tit. Sure I had seen her in bikinis, but a glimpse of her nudity was something that was still eluding my lifetime achievements. "I have my eyes closed," I lied. My eyes were locked on the basement door.

I heard her rush up the stairs, then stop. She peeked around the doorway, grinning as she saw me looking. "No peeking," she said, mock-sternly. "I'll tell Mom if you do!"

Because I knew she wouldn't, I decided to call her bluff. "Oh, really?"

The standoff lasted just a couple of seconds. Throwing caution to the winds, my daughter ran into the hallway and up the stairs, vanishing into her room and slamming the door behind her. She was fast, but she hadn't been fast enough - I had seen enough.

I had seen her breasts!

The towel - if it could be called that - was a strip of cloth that was wrapped around her waist. It was too little to cover her chest, and I had seen her mounds bouncing with each step. She had been too far away to see anything else, but I knew a winner when I saw it. And her tits could definitely put every other counterpart, including those of my wife, into shame.

I was still thinking of my daughter's boobs when I started towards the basement.

I was still thinking of my daughter's boobs when I missed a step and tumbled the last few steps and crashed into the hard floor.

And I was still thinking of my daughter's boobs when reflexes took over and I gave a bl**dy scream of pain...

Apparently, it was loud enough for Steph to have heard it all the way upstairs. Even as she bounded down the stairs, she started calling out my name.

"In here," I answered, "In the frigging basement." I had to clench my teeth to keep from screaming again. My right hand was underneath me, somewhat twisted out of shape, but my leg had really borne the brunt of the fall. The ankle was at a right angle with my leg, and I feared it would be more than a simple fracture.

"Oh God!" exclaimed my daughter when she saw me. I was still staring at the ceiling at that time, and it was only when she touched me that I turned to look at her. The dirty lecher that I was, the first thing I noticed was the way her wet breasts clung to the semi-transparent t-shirt that she had thrown on. It was quite evident that she was naked under the top - I could see the dark spots of her nipples.

Steph removed my hand very gently. It was already swollen at the joint, and as purple as I had ever seen something of the same color. "Does it hurt?" she asked, concerned.

For a second, I felt guilty. Here I was, hurt, and I was totally concerned with my own daughter's anatomy, while she was more worried about my well-being. "Only when I laugh," I cliched weakly.

She smiled back. "So don't laugh."

As I stood up, I couldn't help but notice that all she had on was the wet t-shirt. Fortunately, for I have always believed in the silver lining of the darkest clouds, the injuries were totally on my right side. With a great deal of effort, Steph managed to get me into a limping position. She had her hands quite firmly on my waist, slowly but surely supporting me back step by painful step.

On retrospect, I remember being slightly disappointed that she was wearing panties. It wasn't much, but it wasn't the same as watching her naked ass either.

We walked into the living room just as my wife rang the doorbell. She was back for the weekend - stationed at the FBI office at Atlanta didn't leave her enough time to commute to office everyday. She was always home for the weekends, though, and that was when we made up for the lost time. I was sure our sexual indulgence during those times was not lost on the very impressionable young woman we were raising.

Three weeks, said the doctor. "That's how long it will take for you to even be allowed to move your hands."

"Three weeks?" The painkillers had rendered my hand and foot numb while they were being bandaged, and it wasn't exactly a feeling I wanted to have for five more weeks.

"You are lucky," the physician pointed out. "A little this way or that, and we would have had a compound fracture. As it is, you have been extremely lucky, I should say. A sprain, no matter how severe, is always better than any fracture."

He glanced at my attractive spouse. "Besides, I don't think you should complain about having her to wait on you for three whole weeks. Just think of all the perks, Harry." I conceded that point. Perhaps, I hoped, Jamie would stay at home for at least a month. Now that would offset whatever pain I had to endure...

Later that night, as I prepared myself for a very careful sl**p - I daren't risk rolling onto my inflamed limbs - Jamie excused herself and asked Stephanie to follow her. Probably thinking that I was still asl**p, my wife didn't bother to lower her voice. I could hear every word of what she was saying.

"Steph, honey, I need to ask you a favor."

"Shoot, Mom."

"Actually, I've got this, um, program, training and stuff, next week. In fact, I was supposed to report at New England on Sunday, and I don't think I will be able to cancel it. It's my one chance to get into field duty... what I want to ask is, could you take care of your father? Just for a month or so..."

"Sure thing, Mom, but I don't think Dad would appreciate your going back so soon..."

"Harry wouldn't like it, I know, but I am sure he would understand it. He's always been there for me, and I know if I ask him straight, he'll probably tell me to go. But I feel guilty leaving him like this -”

"That's alright, Mom. After all, you are leaving him in good hands, you know."

"That's the only thing I am sure of right now. And hun, sorry if this cuts in on your vacation plans -”

"The only vacation plan I had involved only three things, Mom, and that's sunbathing, eating and sl**ping. I'll see if I can sneak this into my appointment book, okay?" From her sound, I guessed Stephanie was smiling.

"Thanks, k**do. I owe you one."

"Don't worry, I'll take you up on that sometime."

"Now that's something that scares me." Mother and daughter laughed. It was so sweet to hear their combination. I realized how much they meant to me, individually and together, and for a second, actually felt jealous. I don't know what it was that I felt jealous about, but I did feel left out.

"There's another thing you have to consider, Steph," my wife added. "Your father's going to need all the help he gets. He can't put any wait on his right leg, and he can't support himself on his right side; you'll have to substitute for that. And he has this rather irritating habit of wanting to pee in the middle of the night... AND, at least for three or four weeks, you might have to dress him, undress him... I hope you get my point."

Stephanie was silent for a moment. I didn't know what to hope for - that she would say no and spare me the embarrassment, or, if she said yes, that we would be more physically intimate in the days to come. I was glad the decision was Stephanie's, and not mine, to make.

"Okay," she said at length. "I'll do it. But you owe me big time, Mom. Remember that!"

"After I come back," Jamie promised our daughter, "I'll get you whatever you want!"

"I heard that," I said loudly, deciding that it was time I stepped into the dialogue, "What about me?"

"You were supposed to be sl**ping," Jamie chided as she and our daughter walked back into the room.

"So sue me," I countered.

"I've got a better idea," my wife replied, licking her lips seductively. "But it'll have to wait until I come back."

"When are you leaving?"

She cast me an apologetic look. "Tomorrow, if it's okay with you. I hope you understand, Harry, it's my first and quite possibly, it's my only chance to be an active agent. It's something I've worked for..."

I gave her hand a reassuring squeeze. "Like you said, I don't like it that you have to leave so soon, but hey, I want to see you get your due. Go for it, girl, and when you come back, we can celebrate."

"Thanks a bunch, Harry, dearest," my wife cooed, a big smile now on her face. She moved closer and kissed me on my lips, gently, parting and inserting her tongue into my mouth. We French-kissed for a minute before our daughter interrupted us. "Cut it out, you two! I don't want to be able to tell my friends that I saw my Mom getting boned by Dad."

"Yeah," my wife agreed, pulling away with an embarrassed grin at Stephanie's sarcasm. "I can do without the competition, thank you."

I glanced at the clock - it read ten to ten. Stephanie followed my gaze and pointed out the obvious. "Time to sl**p."

She turned to Jamie. "Mom, since I've got to sl**p in here from tomorrow onwards, why don't I sl**p here tonight? Sort of like a trial run. If Dad gets any funny feeling, I need to know what to expect."

My wife giggled. "The only funny feeling your father gets is between his legs... Okay, if you want to. You can sl**p with Daddy tonight. I'll take the couch."

"You can have my room," Steph offered, already sliding in between the sheets on her mother's side of the bed.

"Gee, thanks honey, didn't know you had such a big heart," my wife k**ded. "But aren't you gonna take off your clothes?"

The question was asked so matter-of-factly that both Stephanie and I knew immediately that my wife had been quite sincere. She herself was unbuttoning her blouse, and took it off. Next to go was her knee-length skirt. Her bra completed the pile on the floor.

Stephanie crawled out of bed. Being her mother's daughter, she had never been one to back off from anything. Wordlessly, she unhooked her shorts and they fell at her feet. Her turtleneck was off the next instant, and I had a glimpse of her flat tummy when the t-shirt she had on underneath - the one that had been wet earlier in the evening - slid up a little. Steph then pecked her mother goodnight, walked over to me, lightly kissed me on my lips, smiled her 'goodnight' and scooted back between the sheets.

"That's it?" my wife asked as she walked out of the door, not expecting an answer.

In a voice low enough for me alone to hear, I heard my daughter say, "For now." And then I drifted asl**p.

By the time I awoke the next day, the sun was already more than a little way up in the sky. Jamie had finished packing her suitcases and was just about to wake me up when I opened my eyes. "Hi sweetie," she greeted me warmly. "You almost missed morning."

"Must be the pills," I said as I tried sitting straight. It was, as I discovered, a pretty difficult task, especially when you have just one hand to work with. My wife helped me sit upright. "I still feel a little woozy."

"It'll take a couple of days to wear off," my wife explained, sitting beside me. Her hands absently rubbed my thigh as she kissed me, her tongue gently finding its way into my mouth. I responded as best as I could, given that I had just one hand that I could use. Besides, neither of us wanted to hurt my right arm anymore and have it in a cast for a few weeks more. I could taste her lipstick on my lips when we pulled apart.

"Harry... if you want me to stay... all you have to do is ask."

With my left hand, I patted her cheek. "I know you will, so I won't ask you to. You deserve this chance, honey, and I don't want to stand in your way. And, before you have to explain, no, I don't think I am competing with your job. So go ahead, Jamie darling, and kick some ass."

"Thanks," my wife's voice shook a little, "I love you. You know that, right?"

I grinned at her, and gave her breast a little squeeze. "No, I didn't. You do?"

As my wife took a playful swipe at me, our daughter came into the room. She smiled at me and kissed me on my forehead. Once again, as I looked at her, lewd thoughts were starting to come back. Her halter top was a little lower than usual, showing off the top of her creamy breasts, and that it was a thin material was evidenced by the fact that her nipples could poke a little outwards. Her tight shorts emphasized her lithe legs and well-formed thighs. Her hair, unbraided, fell about her bare shoulders in wavy forms, looking soft and downy.

"Mom, your cab's here."

I suppressed an urge to say "Damn, do you have to leave so soon?" Instead, forcing myself to remain smiling, I shook my wife's hand. "All the best, Jamie. You don't need it, so convey that to the losers, okay? Just don't embarrass them too much."

"Okay, if you don't want me to," my wife quipped, "But there are some guys there I want to teach a lesson or two. A couple of jerks from my office - they don't think a woman can be good enough. MCP's!" She gave me a hug, then turned to embrace Steph too. "Take good care, you two. Especially you, Harry! And try not to ruin Steph's image about you, alright?"

"I'll try," I joked back.

I heard the cab drive away with a sense of dejection. I didn't want to dwell on it, though, for disappointments like these were often the springboard for rocky times in a relationship. Stephanie busied herself with the household chores, leaving me to my own thoughts, and I reminded myself that she had indeed asked me whether she could go.

Lunch was a quiet affair of potatoes and steak. Stephanie is a great cook, better than her mother and I put together, and the food was so tasty there were no leftovers for the night. I washed my mouth in the bed itself - Steph brought some hot water and a sponge towel, and fussed over me like I was a little k**.

Stephanie came back after dumping the plates into the dishwasher to find me struggling with the pillow behind me. "What are you doing?"

"Setting it up," I replied, surprised by how matronly she sounded. Her attire was still the same as it had been in the morning - or was it that the halter was just a little lower on her bosom now, showing more of her skin? My eyes were drawn to the generous amount of cleavage displayed, only to be averted because I feared I would get caught. "I can't get it properly behind me."
"Here," she said, moving closer, "Let me help."

I turned to look back at her at the very same moment that she bent forward in front of me. Before she could stop herself, her chest collided with my face! My nose went right into the valley between her slopes and her inertial push forward sandwiched my face between the top of her breasts and the headboard of the bed. My cock sprang to life as I inhaled her perfume-like feminine scent, a little of sweat also part of the mixture.

But instead of jumping away, as would have been normal, my daughter reached behind me and adjusted the pillow. Her actions were causing her chest to rub against my face, and I could feel the warm skin press against my cheeks. If I was getting suffocated, I didn't know - the only thing that I could think was how soft and smooth her skin felt.

It was a good thing that my daughter moved away when she did... a few more seconds, and I would have started licking her tits. Looking back, I would call this a defining moment of our turning relationship, the point when I really started to feel the heat of lust. I was actually disappointed when her breasts were no longer in contact with my face.

"Whoa!" I couldn't help but say when I was able to breathe again. "What hit me?"

Stephanie grinned at me. "Very funny, Daddy. You just can't help an old man nowadays without being drooled over."

"I am not old," I retorted lightly, "Besides, what's a man supposed to do when you bury his face in your - chest?"

My daughter giggled as she hooked her thumbs under the top of her halter and pulled upwards to a more conservative appearance. "There... you happy now?"

"Not quite," I replied, feeling cheeky. "I think I preferred the earlier view."

"Of course you would. What do you want me to do, walk around naked?"

My bladder, thankfully, chose exactly that moment to fill itself, and I was suddenly having a strong urge to pee. "Excuse me," I told her as I tried to get up. "I need to use the bathroom."

"Here," my daughter offered, beside me in a flash, hooking her hand under my shoulder. "Let me help." It wasn't an offer, I realized, it was just her polite way of assuming control. I was sure I would need her assistance to get to the toilet, but there was no way on earth I was letting her help me after that.

What man proposes, God disposes...

Before I knew it, Stephanie had already whisked me into the toilet. I was able to place my right shoulder on the wall, not wanting to put any weight at all on my ginger leg, and was about to ask my daughter to leave when she bent down and jerked my shorts down. Not having bothered with underwear the previous night, my cock sprung out - literally sprung out - in front of my daughter.

"Uh hun," I stammered, shocked at the way she had stripped me, her own father. "I think I can take it from here, thank you."

"Like hell you can," she replied. For a second, she hesitated, and I wondered whether she would indeed walk away, but then, as brazenly as her mother usually did, she caught hold of my cock and directed it into the toilet bowl. Her touch was the last trigger - the relief that came with the expulsion was like a breath of fresh air.

Stephanie held on to my cock until the last drop had been drained out. The spent penis was lifeless for just a fraction of a second, and then started to get hard once again. Stephanie reflexively reached for it, but stopped midway when she realized that I wasn't about to pee again. Her cheeks flushed as she bent down in front of me and pulled my shorts back up. I didn't expect her to, but she gripped my cock again and pushed it back into the confines of my shorts.

"At least," she said as the flush was engaged, "You can't complain about the treatment!"

"Next time you get hold of my cock," the medicine and everything else had loosened my tongue, "Just warn me, okay? Jesus, you almost killed me!"

"Next time, huh?" she was fast, and I felt my own face color at my inadvertent admission of there being a next time. "See, I told you you'd like it."

I figured that she would help me back into the bed, but instead, she steered me into the shower stall. "You need a bath," she explained as I glanced at her, "God, you stink!" She was smiling as she said it, so I knew it was a joke. But that she was going to give me a bath was not a joke. I just knew it wasn't a joke.

"What are you going to do, shower with me?" I said, attempting to sound cooler than I felt.

"You have a dirty mind and a very high opinion of yourself, don't you?" she returned. "I was planning on letting you soak up a little hot water in the tub. I don't mind a shower, though, but I'll have to get out of this -”

"No," I almost shouted, panicking. For all my feelings, unfatherly as they were, towards Stephanie, getting under the showerhead with her was the last thing I wanted; for the simple reason that I wouldn't be able to restrain myself if she teased me anymore. "The tub's just fine. It's better than fine, actually."

My daughter pinched my shoulder lightly. "Thank god for that!"

She had me lay on my back on the dry tub. As careful of my ankle as she was fast, she had the shorts off in very little time. Her hands flew over the buttons on my shirt, and by the time I could even come to grips with reality, she had already turned on the water. It wasn't, I think now, time that went fast as much as the fact that I was starting to feel sluggish. My body was controlling my emotions rather than the other way round, which probably accounts for the raging boner I sported.

"Cold or hot?" my daughter asked, a smug grin on her face. "If you ask me, you need a cold shower first."

"With you around, I don't think it would make much of a difference."

"Oh, really? You mean to tell me that I excite you? That this little thing that's poking up towards the sky is actually because of poor ol' me?"

I decided to be brutally honest with her. "Yes, it is. And you know it."

"Why, sir," she feigned outraged innocence, "You shock me. How dare you accuse me of something like... this?"

But before I could reply, she turned on the tap. The first jet of water was cold, and it fell right on the purple head, temporarily disorienting me. As the water started to get warm, Stephanie obtained a bottle of soap from the shelf and dumped a whole lot into the water. Pretty soon, I was inundated in the bubbles.

When the tub was filled to the brim, my daughter stood up. "I'll leave you two alone for some time," she announced, quite obviously referring to my subsiding arousal, "Call me if you need something. I'll be watching TV."

I watched her sexy ass sway as she walked. As soon as she was out of sight, I used my left hand to revive my erection. The events of the past 24 hours demanded that I seek some immediate relief before I did anything stupid. It was the first time I had wanked off inside a tub, but the images that I saw through closed eyes - images of my daughter - were so erotic that I had no trouble getting a tremendous load off my body. Every time she had bent down in front of me, I remembered, I had captured the fleshy tops of her tits. That in itself was enough to fuel my imagination as to what her top held covered.

I must have dozed off, for the next thing I felt was warm lips pressed against my forehead. "Wake up, sweetie," my daughter said, imitating my wife, "How do you feel?"

I saw her reach between my legs; she pulled something, and the water level started to recede. "You've been in it for some time now. Let's get you back to where it's dry and soft, honey."

All she had with her was a towel, and she started to dry my face and chest as soon as the water had gone down enough. By the time she had rubbed my shoulders dry, almost all the water had drained out.

And then, much to my dismay, I saw that whatever stuff I had shot out of my cock had pooled below my balls. The water hadn't washed it away, and the pasty precipitate, I knew, would not escape Stephanie's eyes.

It didn't.

The moment her eyes flicked to my flaccid cock, now not as flaccid; they widened as she noticed my cum. But thankfully, she said nothing. There was something about her expression that told me she was smirking, maybe even secretly pleased, at my sexual activity. I said a silent prayer to God.

As if it were the most natural thing in the world, my daughter helped me back on my feet. The 'thing' between my legs was erect once again, but I was no longer as shy as I once had been. Hell, if she had no problem with my arousal, why should I be ashamed of it? Stephanie had me lean against the wall as she dried my thighs and ... gulp, my balls. I almost slipped when I felt her hands grip my balls and rub them softly, as if acknowledging the importance of the organ that created her.

A hand over her shoulder, I tripped back into my bedroom. Ever my considerate nurse, Stephanie already had a change of dress laid out for me - a pair of briefs. It was one that I remembered as having a hole somewhere between the legs, but I shrugged off wanting to tell her. I watched in admiration as she slid it on up my legs, matter-of-factly guiding my balls into the cover.

"You wanna stay here," she asked, "Or by the pool? I was planning on a little swim."

"Sounds swell," I replied, relishing the chance to ogle her body. She had this nasty habit of wearing those bikinis around the house that would get her arrested for indecent exposure, and sometimes, if I was lucky enough, I would be able to see the dark outline of her nipples through the damp tops. Absently, I ran my hand over my cock; the gesture did not escape my daughter's attention, but all she did was keep smiling.

My leg was feeling a lot better, I discovered, as we went out to the patio. Steph made me recline on the pool chair, and brought the umbrella over so that I wouldn't burn myself. "Anything else?" she asked coyly.

"Nothing more," I said, sincerely meaning it. This was, indeed, life. Pampered by a gorgeous and sexy woman who is just too much of a cock-tease... life couldn't get much better than this, I thought.

Life, I immediately discovered, could get even better. Stephanie gave me a peck on my lips and stood up. With as much nonchalance as she had displayed so far, she reached behind her and undid the halter top! Her breasts spilled out of the confines, proud and firm, high up on her chest, with an enticing cleavage and ruby-red nipples. It was the first time I had seen her so naked so close. It damn near gave me a heart-attack.

"I hope you don't mind me skinny-dipping," my daughter, noticing my shocked expression, cooed. "It's too hot to wear anything else."

Without waiting for any kind of a reaction from me, she hooked her thumb in the waistband of her shorts and tugged them down her long legs with one smooth motion. A light blue bikini piece, a couple of sizes too small for a woman like my daughter, was stretched over her crotch. She had it off in the blink of an eye, and even as I recovered from the shock of seeing her so scantily dressed, she was wearing nothing.

My mouth was dry as I muttered, "Damn!"

"Are you all right, Daddy? You look pale... no, you look flushed -”

I gave her body one last lusty look before I met her gaze. "Now that, my daughter, could kill a guy like me if you aren't careful. Shit, baby, you could have at least warned me."

She giggled. "Sorry, Dad, but I didn't think you would let me if I told you."

I pointed to the tent of my briefs, feeling too bold. "Does this tell you I would have stopped you?"

"No, but you are always that hard that I thought something was wrong with you. I am your daughter, after all..." She winked at me.

"You sure don't act like it," I shot back.

"Can't help it if I am attracted to the most handsome man in my life."

"Anyone I know?"

Before I knew it, she had her lips pressed quite firmly against mine. She was still off to my side, but her face was right in front of me as we kissed. It was our first such kiss, and I was quite surprised when I felt her probe my lips. Her tongue slid into mine while she cupped my face. With my free hand, I rubbed her bare back, from her nape all the way down to the crack of ass. Her skin was warm to the touch, smooth as silk, and her scent filled my nostrils.

As is so characteristic of such moments, we lost track of time. It was only when she sat on my lap and pressed her breasts against my bandaged wrist that I felt the damned pain hit me. But our kiss was too sweet a thing to lose over pain, and I clenched my fist to avoid crying out. But when she sat on my lap, I felt her weight, light as she was, all the way down my right leg.

I hate to sound like a crybaby, but there was no way I could have just continued kissing my daughter when my leg felt blown off. Stephanie jumped up when she heard my scream, muted as it was, and was immediately transformed back into my daughter, replacing the passionate and svelte woman in my arms who I had been kissing just a few seconds ago.

"What happened?"

I gave her a grimacing smile. "My leg."


"Don't be. It wasn't your fault."

"Maybe... so why do I feel guilty?"

"It's nothing, sweetie. Just go have a swim. It'll go off in a few minutes."

"You sure there's nothing else you want?"

In spite of the pain, my mind conjured up an exact image of what it was that I wanted from her, but I couldn't very well tell that to her face. I shook my head, and she turned away.

Stephanie walked around the pool and went up the springboard. I watched her proudly as she executed a perfect dive, broke the surface cleanly and remained underneath for around ten seconds. Being the oversexed - or undersexed, depending on the way you prefer to call it - creature that I was, as I waited for her to surface, I absently wondered if my daughter had shaved herself there. I hadn't really noticed her that intently, I realized, I had been too shocked to see her tits to think anything else.

Given the sudden intimacy between us, I didn't think she would think it improper if I asked her directly.

"Steph, I was just wondering..."

"What, Pop?"

"I mean, no offence, but - do you shave yourself?"


"Oh, you know... there!"

"My armpits?"

"No! Lower..."

"My legs?"

I realized she was pulling my leg, tricking me into saying exactly what I meant. She was definitely her mother's daughter, alright. Jamie had always managed to wrap me around her pinkie. "No, between them?"

"Between my legs?" she acted puzzled, then enlightened. "Oh, you mean my boyfriend?"

It took me a full second for the humor in her answer to strike me, and I laughed when I understood. She joined me in my laughter. "Good one," I admitted, "But that wasn't what I meant. And if your boyfriend ever fouls up between your legs, just send him to me, okay?"

"Why, so that you can teach him the proper way of getting between a woman's legs?"

"I believe I am qualified enough, young lady, your mother can vouch for that."

With a twinkle in her eyes, she delivered her punch line. "Oh, I don't believe in second hand information. Not even from Mom. Definitely not about something like this."

Not able to come up with a suitable rejoinder caused me to fall back on my earlier query. "So, do you shave your... bush?" There! I had said it.


"Why, what?"

"Why do you want to know?"

Stumped! "Just wondering."

"Why do you wonder why I keep my cunt," she said this without batting an eyelid, "bare for the hunt?"

"Why shouldn't I? I mean, if you're a hunting ground, I need to know what beaver I am hunting."

"I don't recall inviting you to any beaver-hunting on me."

"I usually call in uninvited. That's the best way to catch my favorite prey."

"Are you always this direct?"

"Sometimes, would you believe, I cut through the warnings and just shoot my prey. Ask your mother about that one, too. Back when we were younger, she used to have headaches from all that banging on the kitchen table."

"Wow! That's a side I never expected from either of you."

"See! We parents always have a surprise or two up our sleeve. That should tell you something."

"It does. Always wear helmets when around you."

"You think I would hunt you?"

"From the look in your eyes, it's a wonder you haven't, already!"

"Am I that obvious?" I feigned disappointment.

"Only when you try to catch a glimpse of my tits through the water. At other times, you seem like the perfect gentleman. Except for the odd wank or two in the bath-tub."

"Ouch! That hurt..."

"Probably hit my target. Your groin."

"So now who's hunting?"

"Never said I didn't. You just assumed I didn't."

"Ever gone beaver-hunting?"

"Once. Never again."

"Not that pleasant, huh?"

"Oh, it was good. But it can't compare to having a gun shoot off inside you."

"That was crude."

"Aren't we all? Sometimes, I think, the more we develop, the more we should go back to the caveman days."

"Why? You don't like us Lochinvars at all?" Lochinvar, according to a poem I had once read, was a dashing knight who rode off with his girlfriend into the sunset. Much like John Wayne, I suppose, but more polished.

"Lochinvars? You've still got that breed anywhere?" Apparently, she was either saying there weren't enough gentlemen, or she hadn't read the poem at all. Probably the former.

"Coming back to the topic at hand," I regressed, "Do you, or do you not, have an evergreen forest?"

"Evergreen forest? Nice name. I'll tell Angie that, she's bound to use that for the next Greenpeace campaign of hers... okay, how about this? What I have is a denuded forest that's been paved into a skating rink."

"That smooth?"

"That sharp," she corrected, "Stings you like ice if you don't know where to skate."

As if sensing that this was as far as either of us could reasonably go, we broke out in loud peals. "God," I said, "Did we raise you like this?"

"Of course," my daughter put in between breaths, "Not. I managed to learn a little more decency at school."

"You little minx!"

Finally, all was quiet once again. I went back to reading, and Stephanie went back to her swimming. She was in the water for over half an hour before she decided to call it quits.

Hearing her approach, I turned my attention back to her. She swam up to the steps in front of me and pulled herself back onto the patio. Her hair was plastered to the graceful curve of her neck, and the late sunlight glinting off her tresses gave them a rather flashy look.

Water dripped on the floor, from her wet hair, from her face, from her ears, from her jaw... from her protruding nipples... I could make out the water trails down her flat stomach, down her delectable legs... and, as she had correctly described, from her wet crotch that was absolutely devoid of hair. It was an incredibly erotic sight to see my own flesh and bl**d standing there, unabashedly stark naked, and dripping the whole pool on our patio.

Stephanie blew me a kiss and picked up a towel from the small poolside stand. It was a small piece of cloth, barely enough to cover half her thighs, and she wrapped it around her waist. It clung to her wet skin. Stephanie picked up another towel and used that to dry herself. I observed her as she vigorously rubbed her hair, the action causing her breasts to juggle torturously. It was all I could do now to whip out old Mr. Peter and squeeze him dry.

That would have been a compliment she would rather not have received.

She threw the wet towel that she had used to wipe herself into the hamper. It was a perfect throw, a three-pointer, and she watched it fall dead-center with satisfaction. Then she walked over to me, her hips swaying sensually, and sat down at my feet.

"Shall we go inside?"

"What?" I said, not pretending my disappointment, "And miss seeing a beautiful woman parade naked in front of me?"

"Assuming that I am the woman you mentioned just now, what would you say if I told you that I will parade naked in front of you inside the house?"

"You've got a deal!" She laughed pleasantly, obviously flattered that I should find her so unquestionably sexy. On my part, I was constantly thanking my stars that she didn't run to the cops.

This time, when I stood up, my leg didn't hurt at all, but it wasn't a fact I cared to volunteer to my daughter. As before, we walked back into the living room with my hand over her bare shoulder. My fingertips were dangerously close to her nipples, and though I could have touched them anytime I wanted, I didn't want to scare my daughter by going too fast. Of course, accidentally, now and then, I did get momentary feels of her peaks.

That was enough to tell me that they were hard. To use a familiar expression, they were hard as pebbles.

Stephanie kept up a lively chatter about an old softball game of hers, perhaps as much to distract herself as to distract me. Before long, once I was comfortable on the couch, Steph excused herself to go and have her shower.

She was out in five minutes, clad in a short robe and with a towel wrapped around her hair. Her face, even when devoid of makeup, was naturally addictive, and it wasn't that she was beautiful because she had a hot body. According to me, Stephanie has always been beautiful and has always been hot - the two being mutually exclusive.

Which was why, as I was waiting for her to come out, I realized that it wasn't just a dirty lust that I felt for her. My feelings ran deeper, as deep as the love I had for my wife... even deeper. The five minutes of separation had awoken me to the fact that I had fallen for my daughter. The physical lust that I felt for her served to offset any guilt I might have about fantasizing about her, but the basic sensation was love.

As I watched her bring over a cup of water for me, I remembered her promise to be in the nude before me, but that wasn't so important any more. What was important was that my feelings, in no way, should screw up her life. The controls that had left my brain for my cock came back to my brain once again. I silently resolved that while I would enjoy our flirting with each other, I wouldn't steal third base with her. In baseball terms, it would have to be a walk.

We ordered pizza from a nearby place, and since a bath-robe is hardly appropriate attire, Stephanie changed into suspenders over an old shirt of mine. Sam, one of the waiters, delivered the cheese-topped variety, my daughter's favorite, within ten minutes, and Stephanie, as always, tipped him handsomely.

As soon as the door was closed behind Sam, however, the suspenders were off. As befitting the warm climate, Steph wore only the shirt, top three or four buttons unbuttoned to show off a lot of flesh, and nothing below the waist except for a g-string. We snuggled up on the couch and watched an old rerun on the tube, snacking on the pizza, occasionally feeding each other. It was a throwback to when Stephanie had been a little girl in pigtails and knee-length frocks.

It was around eight at night when the telephone buzzed. As I had the consideration of being the injured soldier, Stephanie reached over to pick up the receiver. Since the phone is on a small teapoy in front of me, not only did Steph have to turn her back on me, but also did she have to bend over, thereby presenting me with a close-up view of her ass. The thong she wore was a mere string that extended the crack of her butt, baring even her pussy lips.

And the feminine scent coming off her bottom was palpable...

I am sure that she knew what a view I had of her anatomy, and the little cock-teaser deliberately stood that way in front of me, almost wiggling her ass at my face, definitely tempting me. Abruptly, though, she crashed back on my lap, as if by accident, but taking care not to put any weight on my right leg. I heard her coo on the phone, offer congratulations and finally, with a very excited smile, promised whoever it was on the other end that she would be coming right over.

"Dad," she turned to me with pleading eyes, "Can I go over to Sharon's? Please? Puhleese..."

Like I said, Stephanie had me wrapped around her little finger. Like mother, like daughter. Besides, I reflected, there was no reason for her not to go over to Sharon's.

Sharon Lee was one of my daughter's best friends. She lived just a couple of houses down the street, just past the intersection. A Filipino by birth, she was as American as any other of Stephanie's friends. That she was three years my daughter's senior didn't matter to the two - they had been close as long as they had known each other. I knew Mr. Lee, but little more than a passing acquaintance, enough to greet each other if our paths crossed.

The Lees were good people - my wife was a good friend of Mrs. Lee. The Fillips were the kind of people one wished to have as neighbors anywhere on the same street. They were always cheerful, never too rude or blunt, and contributed generously to the local associations. More American than most Americans.

No sooner had I nodded than Stephanie was off my lap. She gave me a lightning-fast peck on my lips and was on her way to change when I figured out I might as well know the reason for the hurry.

"What's the matter? Their house on fire?"

Stephanie returned, a heap of her nicest clothes in her hand, and dumped them in front of me. Even as she answered my question, she unbuttoned her shirt completely and took it off. The irony was not lost on me - she was standing in a pile of clothes clad only in a thong. It was exciting to watch her bend down, select one dress, discard it, and then pick another... while her firm mounds trembled a little on her chest.

"She's pregnant!" Stephanie's voice had the joyful ring one associates with a soon-to-be aunt.

"Out of wedlock?" As far as I knew, Sharon Lee hadn't been married for f******n years. Not unless she got married today.

"Of course," my daughter replied, and I almost felt stupid for asking the question. As if extra-marital pregnancies were a dictum of the Church...

"Excuse me, but would you mind clarifying that?"

Stephanie swooped on a tan blouse and a chocolate-colored skirt before answering. "It's not that bad, actually... she knows who the father is."

"And I suppose, by the same coin, you do, too?"

She pulled up the skirt and fastened it at her slender waist, her bosom still exposed. "Yep, I know." She winked at me.


She smacked her lips as she fished a bra out from the pile and slid it on. "Promise you won't tell Mom."

"I swear it wasn't me!" I joked. "Okay, Zipped lips. Who's the lucky bastard?"

Opening her mouth, she paused for that dramatic effect. "Mr. Lee."

"Which Mr. Lee... oh my God, not her father!" For some silly reason, my daughter must have been thinking, I was shocked! Talk about the understatement of the year!

She nodded slowly, rolling the words over tongue, as if to give them the same sex appeal that she possessed. "Her own father. They've been lovers for the past three years now. She's getting betrothed to him today..."

"Are you pulling my leg?"

"About something like this?" She gave a little twirl. "How do I look?"

"Fabulous," I replied truthfully, admiring her lithe frame. "How?"

"You promised you won't tell Mom," she reminded me.

"Yes, I know. She'll never know... not from me, anyway."

"Okay," Stephanie agreed. "On that promise, what I tell you should never leave your mouth. You know she is a Filipino, right?"


"Well, apparently, her mother belongs to a local tribe there. It was a love marriage when she met Mr. Lee, an engineer with the army corps, and she eloped with him. But she still holds the rites and traditions of her tribe very close to her heart.

"Now they have - or so Sharon told me - a particular ritual in which a girl, by her own desire, gets taken in the ass by her own father at a certain point in her life. I know, I didn't believe it at first either, and neither did Sharon. They have a small function before the event, and the girl gets a chance to back out until the last moment, no strings attached.

"But that's all the father has any right to - her ass. Anally, he can deflower her. But her virginity is saved for her husband.

"Mrs. Lee didn't insist on anything until Sharon was s*******n. Sharon told me that it was her father who managed to convince her mother to hold off for at least a year, hoping that she would be discouraged by then. Mrs. Lee did wait, but she didn't forget.

"On the morning that Sharon turned eighteen, her mother insisted that they have the function. Apparently, her mother's cousins, some of them, were also invited, and before she knew it, she had agreed to go along with the idea. The funny thing is that she's always had this crush on her father, so it was just a matter of the right words and the right places before Mr. Lee warmed to the idea of having sex, at least anal, with her.

"She confided in me every step of the way. Soon, more than the sex, she and Mr. Lee wanted to make love. And one day, to use her words, they slipped and made love. They were hooked.

"Of course, Mrs. Lee soon found out, and there was hell to pay, but they talked it out. Sharon was ecstatic when her mother said 'Okay,' - I was the first person she called up to tell the good news.

"That was three years ago. Today, she discovered that she was a couple of months pregnant. They are going to have a little ceremony in her house."

"I don't believe it," I repeated, more envious than incredulous. It was possible, just possible, that such a practice was still prevalent; some of the tribes of Africa still had b*****rs marry s****rs. But that it was happening just down the street was a little too close to home.

Besides, Sharon was an attractive girl, but she couldn't even come close to Stephanie. Whom I, as her father, was forbidden to love as I wished to love her.

"I'll be back soon, sweetie," my daughter said as she hauled back all her discarded stuff back to her room. She came back, gave me a perfunctory kiss on my lips and picked up her purse. She was almost out of the door when I said it.

I don't know why I said it. I don't know why it meant more than it ever had, to me and to her. I just said it, and it meant a whole new world to us the moment it was out of my mouth.

"I love you, Steph, darling."

She paused just long enough for me to see the smile light up her face. "I love you too, sweetie."

The two hours that she was gone really dragged. I wasn't interested in watching TV alone, in addition to which there was nothing worthwhile on. Willing myself, I tried walking a little, succeeding in fact, but it was only when I came back to the couch that the dull throbbing came back. Still, as is the way of men, I stupidly walked all over the house, grimacing in pain, and finally, deciding that I had been iron-willed enough, I settled back on the couch.

I didn't know how slow my walk around the house had been until the clock struck half past nine. Jesus! It had taken me over sixty minutes, and my feet hurt like they had been rolled over. All I wanted to do was scream. Bring the roof down.

She burst in without any notice, her face an intense mask of searching and ecstasy at finding me, and she bounded over even before the door had completely closed behind her. "God," she moaned as she came closer, "That was so romantic!"

Her lips were on me before I could gather my thoughts, much less utter anything. Instead, as I had done earlier in the evening, I kissed my daughter back with the same feeling and intensity, feeling the warm bl**d course through my veins again. In spite of the pain that was my leg, I could feel myself getting aroused by her gentle nibbling on my tongue.

My left hand roamed her back; the right arm could go only as high as her mid-back before I felt as if someone was tearing my arm apart. I realized, even as I was kissing her, that I couldn't hear anything other than a loud ringing between my ears. This was immediately followed by flashes of pain inside my head, perhaps an overload of all the signals it was receiving, and my eyes started to burn.

To this day, neither of us know exactly what it was that caused us to pull away - it was Stephanie who did pull away, for I was spiraling out of all deliberate actions. Her eyes, so alive with passion a minute ago, were full of concern, maybe even a little afraid that she had hurt me.

"What is it?"

I managed a weak smile. "Just the same old limbs acting up. I must be getting old."

"Old, my foot. Let me take a look at your hand... hmm, the swelling's gone down, but it's still a beetroot. How's your leg?"

"Slightly better, I hope. I lost all contact with my leg when you kissed me."

"I am certainly glad to see your leg's a lot better than your jokes," my daughter retorted. "It's just swollen around the ankle, only a little. Come on, let's get you to bed."

My head was really mixing up her signals. "Maybe we better not," I ventured, thinking that she was actually goddam proposing to me, "I mean, with this leg and all... I don't think it will be very pleasant."

"What the devil are you talking about?" she asked, giving me a funny look. "I was just saying that we ought to get you to bed so that I can massage your foot. What did you think, we were going to have sex?"

I couldn't look her in the eye and lie, so I gazed at the carpet. "No, of course not... I was just, eh, you know, I mean ...”

"It's alright, Papa," she soothed, using her inimitable mixture of a matron and a c***d, "Just relax. We won't do anything you don't want to regret later."

"That's somewhat reversed, isn't it? I mean, shouldn't I be the one assuring you?"

"If that's true," she replied cheekily, "Are you sure you are doing a good job at it?"

"No," I confessed.

She got up and held out her hand to support me back onto my feet, but even as I started to get up, she gestured that I sit down again. "I'll lock up, and then we'll go to bed... together."

The few seconds that she was gone - it seemed like only a few seconds - was too little for me to get a concrete grip on my feelings, and it was made all the worse when she walked back into the room, her blouse already off her shoulders. Even as she walked across the room, the top dropped down to the floor, and I was once again struck by her nonchalance - her nonchalance, I immediately realized, was a judgment I had to correct, for her nipples were quite evidently throbbing.

She bent over in front of me, her breasts pointing towards the ground, and smacked her lips sexily. Before I knew it, we were once again locked in a passionate kiss - perhaps I am getting repetitive - with her skirt having ridden up all the way up her legs to her waist. I don't know how she managed it, but I had the distinct impression that she was supporting herself on me - and yet, I felt not an ounce of her weight.

This time too, as much to my relief as to my agony, we stopped at kissing. No words were spoken for or against a continuance, no reasons offered, no promises made. Somehow, both of us just knew that we were just a couple of days, if not hours, away from slipping through that final barrier between propriety and impropriety, platonic and i****t.

That night, as incongruous as it may sound, we slept in the same room, on the same bed... on the same side of the bed. And I had been stripped to my skin...

...As naked as my daughter who slept in my arms that night.

By the time I awoke the next morning, the sun was already a few degrees above the horizon, and the naked warmth of my daughter's body was missing. As if on cue, even as my eyes focused after a refreshing sl**p, she walked into the room. Stephanie, the long-legged deity of my dreams and reality, was clad in a loose shirt, whose tails she had tied around her waist. She had a pair of white, conservative panties - if any panties could ever be called conservative - but the shirt was entirely unbuttoned.

She hadn't even tied the shirttails that properly; within a few steps, the knot was undone, and I was greeted to one of the best sights of any morning, that of her cleavage, her two boobs threatening to slide out from underneath the flaps of her shirt. Stephanie smiled warmly when she saw that I was awake.

"Hi Daddy!"

I guess I was still too sl**py to speak - or perhaps too distracted - so I just continued staring at her.

"God," she giggled, setting the tray that she had carried in on the small table beside the bed. "Stop looking at me like that!"

"Sorry," I apologized, very insincerely - and she knew that. "But I can't help it. What's for breakfast?"

"Not me, that's for sure," she shot back.

"Too bad," I remarked, this time very sincerely.

Our eyes met, and I am sure mine conveyed the fact that I was running out of patience. To which, to me, her eyes seemed to reply, "Well, if you want to, I am not going to stop you."

As if in slow motion, Stephanie reached behind my head to adjust my pillows so that I could sit up. And, as had happened yesterday, her cleavage pressed against my face - only, this time, I felt the naked flesh of her tits press against my cheeks. Something snapped.

Stephanie squealed when I wrapped my arms around her waist and turned so that she was pinned beneath me, but she made no effort to fight me. Without giving her time to think of anything else, especially a defense, I swallowed a breast, taking it in until I almost gagged when her nipple rubbed the back of my mouth. The pent-up passion was released - I bit her nipple rather unkindly, rolling the nub between my teeth, eliciting a rather loud moan from her.

But when she should have, under normal circumstances, pushed me away, she pulled me closer. She clutched my hair with all apparent fury and pressed my face against her swollen tit. I obliged.

In the past, whenever I had had sex with my wife, I had always thought of this as, in a confession of the truly masculine ego, the subduing of her breasts. But not with Stephanie; hers just refused to soften up, even after she had climaxed! The fact that she was continuously asking me attack her even harder was something that fuelled my desire beyond all realms of control.

In the midst of all the grinding and the equally furious kissing, my leg started to act up again. It caused me to nibble my daughter a little harder, drawing a single drop of bl**d where tooth had pierced a rubbery nipple, and she, in reckless abandon, wrapped her legs around my waist, my penis at full mast across the length of her slit.

It was a single jolt of pain that did.

We seemed to deflate in unison, disappointed because I had shot off my load... very prematurely. Ego tells man that he needs to keep his stuff under the trigger as long as he has to - I had failed. Because I had my exhausted cock resting on her hot skin, right on the crack of her ass, I could feel my jism, warm and sticky, travel down her panty-clad underside and stain the bed sheet. I was collapsed on top of my daughter, but she said nothing about my weight.

"What happened?" she asked, concerned and... disappointed.

"Don't know," I answered, "Guess I lost it when you wrapped your legs around me."

She was silent for a while before she asked again, "Was it your leg?"

I gave a small peck on one of her nipples - I felt her tense up at the touch - before replying. "Yeah, it was something sudden."

"How's it feeling now?"

"Miserable. It knows it fucked up the most important moment in my - our - lives."

"Language, Daddy, watch your tongue," she quipped, laughing.

Feeling very naughty, I let my tongue trail a circle around her strawberry-top. "It's the company that corrupts."

"Not that tongue... ooohhhh, Daddy, will you stop it?"

Do you want me to?"

"No - and yes - and no - oh, what the fuck!"

"Careful, honey," I said this time, "Watch your tongue."

"I would rather watch it around you, you sex maniac," she shot back, giggling as I tickled her flushed skin with my soft breaths.

We rolled around a few more times on the bed, extending our foreplay as long as possible because neither of us wanted to be disappointed again. But towards the end of a few minutes - I had lost all sense of time - she abruptly slid out from above me and said excitedly, "The pool! The water should support your weight!"

It was such a simple idea, such a simple resolution of our little problem, that all fears were forgotten for the moment. I reared up and hoisted my near-naked daughter onto my shoulders, very much to her delight. She pretended to squirm out of my grip, even as I pulled her panties down to her ankle. The instant that she felt my hands against her naked butt, Stephanie started kissing all over the back of my head, running her hands across my back in delicate waves.

I threw her into the pool with a manic grunt, almost regretting my roughness when she surfaced, laughing her head off. I jumped alongside her, and no sooner had my body hit the water than she wrapped her arms around my neck, her mouth enveloping mine, her lips seeking mine in a desperate seal. We went under the surface, two people craving the flesh of the other for the essence of life. We surfaced for air, and then dunked under for another vice-like kiss.

With her legs still 'cuffed' together by her underwear, my daughter smoothly slid them around mine, locking my groin in place with hers. She thrust powerfully against my crotch, almost impaling herself on my erection - somehow, the damn thing had come up again - even as her fingers threatened to tear off my neck.

We pulled apart for just a second to see each other, love the only thing in mind, and its consummation an act that was about to be committed. It was quite something to see a woman as beautiful as my daughter, clad in only a shirt that was floating at her neck, having a lusty look that no artist can ever hope to capture on canvas... with water as the perfect medium, a flexible wall that was as erotic as it was life-giving.

She nodded once, just once, handing over all her initiative and all her hope - all her love - to the one man whom the law had forbidden to enjoy, her own father, this lucky bastard who was cheating on his own wife with their own daughter, in their own backyard... perhaps, I had fleetingly thought, the guilt and the recriminations would come.

But wrapped in her arms... there was nothing to beat that. No matter what the consequences, they were all worth it.

And she wanted it... that made it all seem right.

No word was spoken, only eye-contacts that were forever encouraging me to drive even harder into my own daughter, and in spite of the fact that we were starting to go under the surface, too busy to even try to float, our lovemaking was uninterrupted. We engaged ourselves in a kiss, exchanging our breath underwater, eyes now closed, hands doing all the communication... but the world was still. A deep pause. Nothing else moved.

Except our bodies, two as one.

We broke surface a few minutes later - and God, were we out of breath! But somehow, by some signal that anyone who's made really passionate love can know about but never understand, no sooner had either of us taken in a breath than we kissed again, her legs wrapped around my waist and keeping myself inside her.

To this day, Stephanie maintains that she has no idea how many times she came, or even how many times I did... And since I can't exactly be any more accurate, I am never in any position to correct her. All I do know is that it wasn't just once... or twice... or thrice... by the time we got out of the water, it almost felt strange not to have the swirling liquid around us anymore. Stephanie was the first to pull herself out of the water.

"Phew!" she panted, grinning madly at me. "If you ever do that to me again, I swear I am gonna call the cops!"

"Really?" I asked, sure that she was joking - and her grin was too infectitious.

"Like hell," she laughed. "I'll probably spread my legs even wider for you. Jesus!"

"Why Him?" I quipped. "I'm the one who did all the hard-work, and now you say you'll spread for Jesus..."

She rolled her eyes at me. "You know, for a father, you really make some silly jokes. But I love you so much I don't care!"

She bent over to kiss me, and we ended up frolicking under the water for some more time. Finally, by mutual consent, it was time to get back onto dry land. "Besides," Stephanie whispered huskily, "I read somewhere that a girl gets more easily pregnant under water!"

"Given the things I want to do to you, it'll be a wonder if you don't end up knocked up within the year," I warned.

"Oh, don't worry! I would never stop you, but you aren't going to 'knock me up,' as you so crudely put it."

"You are on the pill," I stated, a little confused as to whether I should be happy or disappointed.

"Maybe," she said, a naughty smile playing at the corners of her mouth, "Maybe not. That's not the issue. If anything, WE're going to have a baby, not knock me preggers."

"Fine by me," I said, sighing, the relief apparently prominent on my face, rewarded by her amused expression. "How many?"

"Don't know." She shook her head. "But can we discuss that later? We've been in the pool so much that I am starting to feel like a fish."

We got out of the water together and dried each other off. Even with all the wrinkles from having been underwater for so long, she looked so beautiful... dammit, I was struck for words, but English doesn't have enough in its vocabulary to accurately define how wonderful and beautiful - there's that word again - she seemed to me. Maybe I picked the wrong language.

"What are you looking at?" she asked, noticing my fixed gaze on her body. She knew the answer, of course, but she was one hell of a woman, and she never seemed to run out of opportunities to drive the feminine qualities of being so tantalizingly dense.


"Uh-oh!" she replied, "I know that look! No, Daddy, not now. I can't even stand!"

But she did stand her ground long enough for me to sweep her off her feet, dump her on the King-size couch and dive in after her.

It was amazing, I would later realize, that I never noticed any pain in my leg after that.

So went two weeks, uninterrupted but for a few stray incidents like having to procure the groceries from the nearby supermarket and the visit to the doctor, who was quite perplexed when I insisted that I was feeling better, and even more when everything looked normal. My wife called up every second day, more often than not finding us in bed - where else? - and even though I have to admit that it is silly to spend twenty-three out of every day in bed, it was something neither of us was finding any easy to give up.

It was pretty amusing, by the way, to hear Stephanie try to talk normally to her mother even as she lay over me, trying to push away as I assaulted her breasts - or, as for a couple of times, ate her out with gusto - and while she was initially a little terse with her mother, she picked up so nicely that I was starting to wonder if the magic was wearing off. For her. I was still overawed by her... (sentence terminated due to insufficient adjectives.) And then, the moment she hung up, she would release all her reactions, and I was pleased to see that she still felt as I did.

Stephanie was busy in the kitchen that fine morning, halfway into making breakfast by the time I even woke up. I followed the smell of fresh bacon into the kitchen, pressed my erection into her back and started kissing her bare shoulders. She melted backwards into my arms for a little while, moaning under the combination of kisses and caresses that my hands were effecting. Pretty soon, she was lying on her back on the dining table, legs slung over my shoulder as I started of with my favorite coffee - Stephanie.

"Give me one good reason why I shouldn't shoot you two for this mess." It was a calm voice, neither mine nor my daughter's. Just Jamie. My wife. The mother of the woman I was making love to.

I was so shocked to see her that I stood upright, almost tipping Stephanie over her head. Her legs, long and smooth, mottled with bite-marks all over, slid off, countering her potential somersault and instead, causing her to catapult onto my body, and we fell down, me underneath her in a position so reminiscent of any moment within the past couple of weeks.

It would have been a comical sight, I suppose, but there was no comedy in our situation. At least, not yet. Not until Jamie decided to make us jump through the hoops before calling the cops. The blue ones.



"At least," my wife remarked, moving into the kitchen, "You remember me." She walked to the blackened pot, the spoilt breakfast for the day, and scrunched her face at the ruined food. "Steph, you could have turned this off before you went for the picnic." She turned off the stove, waving her S&W as casually as if she were using a Chinese fan.

"Now, would either of you mind explaining what I have come across here? I find your clothes all over the living room, even the gown that Stephanie is so careful of, and that's torn right off the back, a couple of soiled panties, your boxers, a lot of spots on the couch that look like cum... "

Neither of us spoke.

She looked at the two of us, still naked, still sweating - and for all the wrong reasons. "Okay, in that case, let's start systematically. How long?"

"Two weeks." I said, finally breaking my own shell of fear with a sudden surge of internal bravado. If I was going down, I must have decided, at least I would go down with honor. And let her know that but for her hurt, there were no other regrets.

She crooked an eyebrow at our daughter, my naked lover who was beside me, her juices still trailing down her legs. Stephanie nodded, the first nod diffident, then followed by more confident ones. Amazing how, even under extreme stress, we were still connecting.

"When were you going to end it?"

"Never." Stephanie replied. It wasn't a defiant tone or a challenge - she might have been talking of the weather, a bland statement.

"Oh?" My wife was quite surprised by this. I wasn't, though; Steph was every bit Jamie's daughter, and the same genes were in her.

"Dad and I are in love, Mom," Stephanie continued, "He loves you too, and for what it is worth, if you had been here, nothing would have happened."

"Really?" my wife returned sarcastically. "It's my fault now? And if what you say is true, why the hell isn't he covering up? Or at least speaking up? Bastard!"

"I deserve that," I answered sincerely. "Jamie, I love you. And I love Stephanie. I guess I love you both ... in much the same fashion, in a way of speaking... you as my wife, friend and lover. Steph as my daughter and my lover. And my friend. I am married to you, I am her father, yes, and yes, you should be the only one... but now I can't live without either of you. Do what you think is right, but don't hurt Steph. Take it out on me..."

Jamie was silent for a minute, and I suppose the only reason she didn't catch on when Stephanie squeezed my arm gently, our first physical contact since being intruded upon was because her eyes were starting to fill up.

And then, surprisingly, she ran towards me and hugged me tightly. Even as I started to come to terms with this sudden volte face, she pulled her naked daughter close and the three of us hugged. As one f****y.

The incongruity was striking.

"You know something, Harry, back when I had to take this job, I knew we would be seeing less of each other." A hanky replaced her gun, and she wiped her face. There was no fire in her eyes, only the understanding that I had been finding there for twenty years and loved. "And I was afraid you might... see someone else more, someone who could temporarily blind your love... and while I knew you were too good to go away, I had to decide how to treat it.

"It took me some time, but I finally realized that nothing - and no one - was important enough to come between us, and if you were ever indiscreet, as long as it didn't hurt, I wouldn't mind. Not that I would have appreciated another woman taking my spot in our bed, but it was not - it never should be - a threat to our marriage. We owe each other at least that much.

"And now... Harry, I admit I was more than a little confused when I caught you two... having sex... making love... I saw a lot more than you think I did, and I was confused if you were hurting Stephanie, using her as an outlet for your sex-drive, or if you really loved her as you loved me. And I heard Steph, and I knew it was a lot deeper than a temporary affair.

"I am not saying our daughter is not important enough, but when I heard you say that you still love me, that settled everything. Just tell me once more, Harry, do you actually love me?"

I picked her hand, the one without the hanky or the gun, and kissed it. "With my life. I can't live without you."

She smiled through her tears. "Or without Stephanie."

"Or without Stephanie," I agreed. "Both of you make me what I am, and I am not half alive without either of you."

My wife hugged me once more, and I could feel her wet cheeks press against my skin. The embrace soon turned into a kiss, and it was only when I felt her soft lips press against mine that I realized with a shock how similar mother and daughter were.

"Well," my wife remarked when we pulled away, "That's the first time I have tasted another woman on you, Harry," at which my daughter and I blushed as we caught her import, "Guess I had better get used to the new flavoring."

My eyes met our daughter's for a fraction of a second, but not quickly enough to escape my wife's notice. She grinned at our flushed expressions, making me feel like a naughty son-in-law instead of a husband, although either term would be rather appropriate.

She gave Steph a momentary hug, a gesture that, Steph later confided to me, was the woman's way of saying that everything was okay. "It's a good thing that you can't marry him," my wife told her, "Because otherwise, my dear, I might have just shot you."

Then she gave her a nudge in my direction. "Go kiss and make up," she added with a knowing grin.

We did just that.

It was a comparatively short kiss, deliberately shorter than the one my wife and I had shared just a couple of minutes earlier, and we hoped that the fact was not lost on my wife. She didn't comment on it, however, but stepped back and gave us the maternal look-over. "You two could use a bath," she declared, "And I do need the two hours to clean the house up."

"Two hours?" I asked.

"I'll help," my daughter offered.

"You'll do no such thing," Jamie informed Stephanie, now the mother talking to her daughter. "And what's the matter, Harry, two hours too little for you?"

I grinned. "Two hours is just fine."

My wife gave our daughter a playful swap on her bare butt. "So what are you waiting for? I'll be here only for the weekend..."

That set the tone for the future. A wonderful future, I have to add, and I don't see any way it could be any better. Jamie returned to NE the next day and kicked ass back at her camp, topping the score sheets, and was rewarded by being stationed a mere thirty minutes away from our house. She moved back in.

The two women in my life fell into the new system rather quickly, and pretty soon, the three of us were sl**ping in the same bed. Neither Stephanie nor Jamie never expressed, nor showed any desire, to be involved with each other, but they grew so close that Jamie would sl**p with us even as her husband and daughter made passionate love beside her, barely an arm's distance away. Steph reciprocated when Jamie was the horny one, leaving her parents to their side of the bed.

It was an exhausting task, especially when there was never a single night when neither of them was horny, but hey, who wouldn't give anything to be in such a position?

Jamie never imposed on Stephanie any rules, now seen more as an equal - but not a threat - and while she would counsel Stephanie on any decision, if asked, it was only when Steph made the announcement that we knew for sure that she wasn't against becoming a grandmother. Any doubts we may have had were shot out when she bought us two tickets for a 'honeymoon' at some off-the-maps island to celebrate our promotion from 'couple' to 'parents.'

And so we named the first one Jackson, after her father, a guy she knew I had never been able to like all that well. Just to show that she was the most important person to us, as we were to each other.

I should have been intelligent enough to stop before this footnote, but for proper closure, I have to update anyone who managed to get this far into my life on the current situation. Stephanie finished her college, and we had to move into a more remote location because the society would have a tough time accepting a woman who had two c***dren fathered by a 'coward' who wouldn't come forward. Thankfully, the new place was a laid-back village where we could flaunt our relationship without being hounded.

More importantly, our k**s had a father - me.

Now that Stephanie's on the f****y way again - there's little else to do on our farm - and this being her fourth grandc***d, Jamie has promised to hang up her boots after one last case.

Ironically, she's after a guy who's ****d his own daughter...

Guess there are all sorts of people in this world, isn't it!

93% (27/2)
Categories: MatureTaboo
Posted by famlover66
2 years ago    Views: 2,535
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8 months ago
nice twist at the end...awesome!!!
2 years ago
2 years ago
another great story, as usual from you. thanks. discriptions of Stephanie were vivid.
2 years ago
very good