BREAKING AMY

I didn't say a word when I saw her outfit, if that term could even be applied to what she was wearing tonight. Charlie and John came into the kitchen behind me—I caught the quick smirk that passed over their faces when they saw her.

"Guys go in and get a seat. You know how to work the remote, right?"

They both nodded, and I watched them walk out towards the living room.

"I thought we talked about this?" I said, glaring at Amy from behind.

"What?' she answered smartly, not even turning around to face me.

"You know what I'm talkin' about," I said, my voice rising involuntarily.

Amy spun to face me. I could read the defiance in her stance, her legs set a little wide, hands thrust to her hips.

"I can't help it that you got hang-ups."

I got hang-ups, I thought. I got my little girl standing in front of me in a blouse that is maybe two sizes too small and a pair of jeans that were hitched down lower than gravity should allow. I had to break off my stare.

"You dress like this, you send the wrong message."

"What message?"

"Look just go change into something nicer," I said, opening the refrigerator and taking out three Coronas.

"I like what I'm wearing."

"I'm not here to argue. Just do what I said. That or you can go spend the night in your room."

With that I left the kitchen. I could hear the guys laughing at something and just got more pissed off. This deal with Amy and her outfits was going on for a while now, and it was getting into a particularly bad routine on Monday nights like this.

I guess I could put it succinctly by saying that I didn't think my daughter should be dressing like a slut, that sometimes I'd find myself getting a hard-on before I realized who it was I was ogling. It had been just her and me for going on ten years now, and these last couple months were a strain on me.

And it wasn't just the outfits either. It was the fact that Amy looked good in them, I'm talking real good. She had the same skinny build as her Mom did, the same blond hair with all the curls. And she was a genuinely beautiful girl, very cute, and she'd started filling out. Maybe that was what was bothering me the most. The breasts were still smallish, but she had the ass thing going, the long legs with the muscles so defined. There was that smooth, silky quality about her, that glow that younger girls and women had.

The pre-game was on when I came into the room, the TV was a big projector model, one of the first to come out on the market. That was why I'd started inviting the guys over last year. John and Charlie were employees of mine, young guys, early twenties. They'd helped me hook it up, and I'd started asking them over to watch a game, and then it became a routine.

And Amy, especially in the last few months, had started her thing. Every Monday night, like clockwork, we'd come in and there she'd be, decked in something too sexy, hanging out to watch the game when she wouldn't otherwise cross the street to see the Super Bowl. I'd gotten to harping on her about it over the last few weeks, telling her she couldn't dress like that around a bunch of guys. I was also getting that distinct vibe that these two guys were getting to like my daughter's company as much or more than the game. I knew they were probably talking about her like men do, but I still kept asking them over.

I handed out the beers and got a seat.

"Everything okay?" Charlie asked.

"No problem." The kickoff went down field and I felt the tension dissipate somewhat. I listened to the guys bitch on a stupid play-call, and let the beer take my edge off. I felt myself relaxing.

"Anybody want some chips?"

I turned as she spoke, the big bowl of potato chips held out in front of her, and felt my temper rise. She did change, couldn't fault her there.

"Anybody want another beer?"

I was looking at her ass, a pair of short-shorts with Ohio State emblazoned across her backside, like she'd earned them in the football team's locker room. And the blouse was traded in too. For a hot pink tee that was so tight I couldn't see how she'd gotten it over her bra.

"I'll have one," Charlie stammered.

"Me too," John said, a croak in his voice.

"You, Dad?"

I didn't answer, my fingers gripping into the upholstery. She didn't wait for me to decide, and skipped back towards the kitchen—her hair was done up in shaggy pigtails, bouncing off her shoulders as she left the room.

I looked at the boys, saw them quickly avert their eyes. I got up off after a minute and followed her out into the kitchen.

"I want you to go to your room," I said, watching her pivot to face me.

"No."

"You know what kind of message you're sending out dressed like that?"

She ignored me, and tried to edge around. I stepped in front of her, anger tightening my voice. We'd had a complicated relationship, Amy and I. Close, but still a man lurching about to raise a girl alone.

"You know what they call women who dress up like this. Girls who try to get men all worked up?"

"Cock tease," she blurted, the defiance suddenly etched across her features.

"Yes," I said after a moment, trying to keep things in check

"Well, maybe I want to tease 'em."

"Go to your room now."

"No!"

She tried to edge past me, but I blocked her in.

"Amy, look..."

"Let me go."

I'd had her by the shoulders without even knowing it, shaking her. I immediately let go.

"You dress like this, you might as well parade out there naked for 'em"

"Maybe I will," she said, squirming past me in that instant, looking back over her shoulder, a beer in each hand, those pigtails bouncing off her shoulders.

I stood there quite stunned at the anger I was feeling. I could hear her laughter over the television noise, then the guy's chuckles.

Looking back, I can say that there was conscious thought in my head, the knowledge that I should just cool down and handle this tomorrow. But I was already striding after her.

"Amy just said she wants to show off a little more for you," I heard myself say as I came into the room, roughly taking her by the shoulders and spinning her to face me. "You up for that, guys?"

Charlie and John sat there slack-jawed, eyes widened at the nasty little domestic drama playing out before them.

"Let me go," she screeched, squirming to escape my grip.

"No, you said you wanna show 'em something. Let's show them."

I was tugging that pink tee up over her head, not even thinking of what I was doing, tussling with her, then simply getting my fingers in along the collar and ripping the fabric, tearing it down along her spine, stepping back with the shredded rag gripped in my fists.

Charlie and John were sitting there in shock, the room was dead still for a second, Amy cringing away from me, too stunned to cry, her arms up instinctually over her pink brassiere.

"I'm sorry," I wheezed.

"You want to strip me, then finish it," my daughter shrieked, tears flooding her big hazel eyes, suddenly so full of rage, stepping in and slapping me hard across the face. I stepped back and caught her hand before she could strike again. "Come on, you coward, you want your friends to see me, then do it. Or don't you have the guts."

I remember grasping the front of her bra—it was one of those with the clasp there—and catching myself. Her tiny chest was heaving , breasts capped with pink lace. The anger was boiling, but I'd have to be honest and say that it was then that I felt that first scalding sexual rush.

Even then I still might have stepped back from...

"No guts!"

I tore though the clasp, throttling down on one of her pigtails, pulling the bra free and flinging it across the room.

"You want to be smart, huh? You want to see what you'll fucking get," I shouted spinning her towards the men on the couch, pinning one of her arms to her side, hefting her up by the hair till she was tippy toed. "Give 'em a nice fucking show."

I pushed her forward until she was perched right in front of them.

"Nice or what?" I shouted, seeing that Charlie and John were cowed by the way this had exploded in front of them. "Wanna give them a little kiss."

Amy was whimpering now, too off balance to even struggle much.

"Come on, I'm letting you have a taste. You won't get many tastes as fresh as these." I edged her more towards Charlie, bent her in towards him. "Come on, Charlie, you know you want to try them."

I saw the change in his expression, the few seconds of hesitancy, and then that final nod to me. He slid forward, jerking as he positioned himself in front of her, looking up into her face before leaning in to kiss her right tit. Her breasts were small, perfectly proportioned little buds. I twisted her shoulder back so I could watch. Her nipples were thick and had hardened, which frankly surprised me. Charlie was still not going after her good, looking up nervously from Amy to me. He was actually trembling a bit as he finally kissed the nipple and took it into his mouth. Amy shuddered at each touch, stiffening as he started sucking, his hands working up along her waist as he switched to the left breast and then back again, caressing that smooth belly, taking her whole tit in his mouth, biting down softly on the nipple.

"Come on," I said, looking down at John, pivoting her so that she was facing him, Charlie sticking with her now, still working on her, getting more aggressive by the second. Then John reached out to touch her hair, then the fingers trailing down across her body, stopping at her waist, tracing out the seam of her shorts.

"Go ahead, pull 'em down," I said, nodding. My cock was hardened, uncomfortably imprisoned inside my jeans, feeling my girl's butt rubbing against it. "Get her nude. Get everything off."

John looked directly in Amy's face as he tugged the shorts downward, letting them slip down around her ankles. He grinned, then laughed, maybe at the fact that she didn't have panties on.

"She is so fucking gorgeous," he muttered.

I shoved her forward onto the couch, letting her take a hard landing, quickly sandwiched in between the two of them.

"Have some fun with her," I said, stepping back and reaching down to click off the television.

Amy was still struggling, writhing from their jostling hands and mouths. She flashed a pleading glance at me as I settled awkwardly into my chair. They were literally banging into each other, these guys, until they settled into a wordless rhythm, with Charlie pinning her backwards onto his lap, anchoring her arms to her sides, his face lost in her silky hair.

John looked back at me, and then pulled his shirt up over his head. He moved against her quickly, his bare chest to hers, and kissed her on the lips, shifting as she shied away, averting her face, keeping at it till his mouth mounted hers, pressing in hard. I wondered if she opened her mouth for him, if she felt his tongue.

John was dominating her now, leaving her mouth, gliding kisses down along her delicate neck, rubbing his body to hers. As her struggling eased, he became more gentle, bringing his mouth down along her small breasts, kissing and sucking them, but softer than Charlie had done, crossing the taut belly, finding that perfect triangle of straw-colored hair, firm as he spread her legs and kissed the inside of her thighs.

Amy stiffened markedly as he got his tongue on her, her eyes on me all the time. I could see her breathing quicken, his head lolling as he licked her there, his hands under her ass cheeks, lifting her, Charlie rapt at the sight. Then her eyes clamped; I saw the shimmy in her hips, slight, then more pronounced as John's face pressed into her, angling as his tongue found new spots. Her stomach muscles were quivering now, her head lolling back against Charlie who was intently gnawing at her neck, his hands roughly cupping her small tits, squeezing and pinching her nipples.

And then she was coming, her spine arching, her pelvis bucking against John's face, the cords of her neck straining, then the moan, deep and guttural, starting low in her chest. She reached orgasm in a vicious spasm, thrashing against the guys, the moan bitten off as she clamped her mouth shut, then a shriek that made me flinch in my chair.

My daughter sagged against Charlie, eyes shut tight, her mouth moving, muttering something soundless. I looked at her there, my daughter, stripped by my own hand. I wondered if she'd ever had an orgasm before, if she'd ever touched herself.

John stood up and looked back at me, his mouth glistening wetness. He touched his belt buckle, as if asking my permission. I found myself nodding without any sort of thought.

John bent to touch her cheek, keeping his hand there until she opened her slowly eyes. Then he stepped back and undid his pants, pulling them and his shorts down in one motion, his cock springing free, hard and straight. Again that cringing from Amy, Charlie laughing at it as he took firm grip on a blond pigtail and pushed her forward, framing her lovely face in front of his pal's hard-on.

"Okay, baby. Show me what you can do with a cock," John said, rubbing the coarse head along her lips, lifting her chin when she tried to duck away. "You're just getting what you were asking for all these weeks. You looked so fucking good too. I'd have to jerk off every night I'd go home from here. Not tonight though, right. Now, come on and suck it."

He grabbed her other pigtail and gave it a nasty yank. "I said suck it, you little fucking whore!"

Amy closed her eyes as she opened her mouth and John pushed his engorged cock right in, gripping the back of her head, pushing deeper, making her retch, backing off, then pressing again, stepping back so she came off the couch, drawn down to her knees. He pumped himself furiously, my daughter's mouth stretched wide, looking up at him now as he quickened his pace.

Charlie was stripping behind her then, shirt, then his pants and shorts, his cock not as big as John's, getting on his knees behind her, running his hands along her body, his erection pressed against the pale curves of her rump.

"I'm gonna come," John suddenly blurted. I could see the tightening in his thighs, his features contorting. And then he was bucking his hips, ejaculating in her mouth, grunting loudly. "Fucking little slut. Fucking...ohh, ughh..."

He held there for a second and then pulled out, Amy gagging on his semen, thick gobs of it running down her chin and over her tits as she tried to spit it all out.

"That was so fucking good," he whispered, looking quickly at me, and then away.

"Back here," Charlie was saying roughly pulling Amy back to the couch, smirking at the way John's sperm had marked her. He thrust her legs back, waving a condom in her face. "You know what this is, baby?"

"No," I said, rising a little in my chair.

"What?"

"I said no."

"Come on, what the hell?" Charlie was pissed. He still had the rubber in his hand, Amy's legs bent helplessly back.

"No."

"Just make her blow you, man," John said, sounding spent. "Go down on that box a bit."

"No fuck that shit, I wanna fuck her."

I shook my head, meeting his gaze.

"Charlie, just take that mouth man," John went on. "It's fucking sweet. I think we're probably the first in there."

He waited there for a moment, staring me down. Then he angrily tossed the rubber on the floor. "Blow jobs better anyway."

With that Amy got f***ed back down to her knees. She looked at me as he put his cock to her lips, then closed her eyes as he pushed his way in. He was rougher than John, rougher and faster. He fucked her mouth in a frenzy of thrusts, and wasn't going more than a minute before he started to stiffen.

"Fuck..."

He looked back at me, as if to make sure I was watching. ...I was.

"Ughhh...ugh..."

Charlie pulled out just as he started spurting, jacking himself, sperm flaying wildly across her face, in her hair, thick rivulets dripping down across her throat and breasts. After a moment he eased her back until she was sitting next to the couch.

"I don't believe this shit," he said, more to himself that to us, his erection already flagging. He was catching his breath, looking up sheepishly at Amy who seemed almost in shock, absently touching her streaked face and pulling a string of crawly semen from her skin

"We better go," John said.

"We can stay a while," Charlie countered, no doubt wanting another go at my daughter, or just being too addled to think clearly. That or maybe he just wanted to get back to the game.

"You okay?" John said, ignoring his pal and speaking to me.

I shrugged vacantly.

"I think we should maybe go," he repeated, nervous now, this being uncharted territory for anyone.

"Yeah." It was all I could think to say.

Amy was still touching their semen which was already drying a milky white. She was sobbing softly, hiding her face. She didn't look up as the guys silently got dressed. I sat in my chair as they nodded goodbye. John reached down to touch her head, but she shrank from him.

I sat there as I heard them go, the door shutting, John's car starting and then backing down the driveway.

"Let's clean you up," I whispered after maybe five minutes had past. I came up to her and gingerly tucked an afghan over her bare shoulders.

"I'm sorry, Daddy," she wept as I lifted her up.

"No, I'm sorry," I whispered back, covering her nakedness as best I could.

"I'm so sorry. I didn't mean to..."

"Shhh..."

I was leading her back towards the bathroom, feeling her legs giving beneath her, making her sit on the toilet seat as I turned on the shower. The two of them had covered her with sperm, marked her in a way she'd never forget.

Amy was sobbing softly, the afghan dropping off her shoulders, leaving her bared as she sat there, so completely helpless.

"You'll hate me," she wept.

"I'll never hate you, I'm so sorry..."

"You'll never love me again. You'll never..."

I was on my knees then, hugging her, letting her slide off the toilet so that we were both on the bathroom floor, our arms wrapped around each other, both of us crying, asking for forgiveness, holding each other so tight.

And then I was looking into her eyes. She brought her lips to mine, I pulled back. My daughter broke, rubbing at her face with her hand, as if the drying come was the reason I rejected her.

"No," I said, shaking my head.

"I'm so sorry, I am..."

I pulled her to me, touched my lips softly to hers, a furtive brush, then pressing upon each other, opening our mouths, suddenly kissing with a passion I'd almost forgotten existed and my baby had never known. Her skin was on fire to me now, her thin frame surging against me as we kissed hungrily, her tongue doing a first hesitant probe, then moving confidently, swirling against my own.

Her nipples were peaked. I kissed one then the other, tasting the salt of her skin—and probably the dried come of Charlie or John. I didn't care. I eased her back onto the tile floor, her body electric under my fingers. I kissed my way down her stomach, her hips arching even before I got to her pussy. I looked up into her eyes; she was hiked up on her elbows watching me, anticipating the touch. I drew my tongue across her, probing the delicate petals of her sex, probing her, finding that sweet little bud. I felt the flinch, the strangled sound she made. I had my tongue on it, swirling, flicking. My girl started coming within seconds, convulsing wildly with each ministration, coming off in waves, bucking wildly against my mouth.

Amy tried to push me off. I gripped her hips tightly. Her clitoris swelling as I sucked it, that moist whooshing sound from deep within her vagina. Beyond words, grinding on my face, that a****l-like shriek as she hit that final orgasm.


She was flat against the floor, an arm d****d over her eyes, her breath ragged. I slid up alongside her, kissing her on the cheek, then again lower, along her jaw. I let my eyes trail down her torso; she had a lovely young body.

She rolled to me, coming into my arms. Her eyes were reddened, goose bumps on her satiny flesh. I knew what I wanted, but couldn't say it. Then I felt her hand brush my crotch.

"Baby, we..."

"You can use the thing he had," she spoke, the words not registering immediately in my head. "The thing Charlie wanted to..."

I put a finger to her lips, shushing her.

"Amy, we..."

"You can. ...I want you to."

Her lips came to mine again, gentle, then probing. I kissed my daughter back knowing there was no going back from this anyway.

"Let's go in my room," I said finally, getting up off the cold tile and taking her hand to help her up. Amy's legs almost went again and I had to hold her for a moment. Then she was okay, stepping back from me, letting me take in nakedness. She stepped back and, with a look over her shoulder, disappeared into my bedroom.

She was sitting on the edge of my bed when I came in, the ponytails undone, her hair spilling loosely across her shoulders; she looked frightened, but she stood as I came up to her, cupping her breasts protectively, as if a chill had gone through her. I laid the condom on the night stand, having ripped the foil with my teeth as soon as I'd picked it up.

I touched her cheek and pulled her hands away from her breasts. She came to me as if it were the most natural thing in the world, lifting my shirt, pausing as if to ask if it was alright before lifting it up over my head. Her body felt incredible next to my bare chest, those pert nipples mashed to my flesh. I took her hand and brought it down to my belt.

"Pull down my pants."

Amy stepped back and awkwardly worked the buckle and then drew down the zipper. I put a hand atop her shoulder and gave the slightest pressure, enough to tell her to drop to her knees as she struggled to pull my pants down along my legs. Then my boxers, already tented with my erection. She gripped the bottom seam and pulled then down, freeing me, my hardened cock bouncing before her face.

"What should I do now," she half stammered.

I took her hand and put in on my shaft. She'd painted her nails a soft pink; she was wearing the opal birthstone I'd bought her two years before. She squeezed me softly, looking up at my face, then slowly, started to stoke it. I felt myself nodding, smiling. She bent forward and kissed the thick bulbous head.

"Up here," I said, taking her by the hand, edging her back onto the mattress, grabbing the condom as I knelt close alongside her. She was staring as I put it on, unfurling it down the length of my penis. Then I was kneeling between her legs, touching her hips, gripping them.

"Will it hurt?" My daughter was scared, I could see it.

I lowered myself on top of her, my face close to hers.

"Will it?"

"Maybe."

I reached down and positioned my cock against her vulva.

"I don't care," she whispered hoarsely at my ear. Neither do I, I thought darkly.

And I pushed in, just a bit, hearing her gasp at the entry. Then another inch, then Amy, with a quick thrust of her pelvis, brought me all the way home, in as far as I could penetrate, a raspy breath hitched in her throat.

"Are you okay?"

She waited a second and nodded, then managed a distressed smiled. I drew out, and then slowly went back in, easy at first, getting a rhythm, quickening. I knew I couldn't hold out for long, no way.

I was fucking her really hard then, feeling my daughter's legs wrap around me, grabbing her slender hips and anchoring her to take the full brunt of each thrust, driving my cock into her body over and over again...

And then I went; a ripping orgasm, a climax so intense and prolonged that I found myself keening. I was gasping for air when I got my senses back, sweat soaking our bodies, Amy's legs still scissoring me, as if to wrench every last bit of energy out of it.

I'd just fucked my own daughter, my only c***d. I'd come in her—well not really, not if the Trojan corporation made a dependable product. I rolled off her and covered my face, not knowing what to say.

Then I heard the soft giggle. I looked down and saw Amy prodding the sperm-bulged rubber, her finger tracing it, squishing the cloudy semen around like it was some new toy.

"Are you okay?" It was all I could think to say.

She gave me a small nod, the embarrassment evident on her face.

"You have a lot of it," she said after another moment, still preoccupied with my copious ejaculate, maybe thinking, as I was, that this was where she'd had her own inception; that her existence had indeed sprung from this penis.

I leaned in and kissed my girl, then took her tightly in my arms, holding her there, afraid to let go.

Epilogue

I look back on this story from nearly a quarter century. Yeah, that long. I'm not sure why I tell it to you today, other than some prurient bent in my nature.

I guess I should start by saying that I never touched my daughter in a sexual way again. Of course that would be a fabrication in the extreme. I should also tell you that this one night wrecked our familial love forever, but this too would be off the mark. I won't tell you that it hasn't been complicated, as it has.

Charlie, my erstwhile employee, had of course wanted to come over the very next Monday for some NFL action, and hadn't taken it to well when I said football night was probably off the table for some time to come. He was not happy about that obviously and left my employ after a few weeks. I wasn't too worried about his mouth either, as he had an attractive young wife at home. He'd probably stay shut up, I remember thinking, a prediction that was to prove unnervingly correct.

Charlie got killed in a car wreck less than a year after that night. He might've been a pain in the ass, but overall he was a good guy. He didn't deserve to go out young like that.

John was a lot more succinct, not talking about that evening, not asking if we were on for the next Monday. He was a good man, a man you could trust. He still lives close by; a nice wife and a couple k**s. I helped him get his start in the business and we are what I'd call pretty good friends—at least as good a friend you could be with someone who you've witnessed pumping a big juicy load into your daughter's virgin mouth. We have never once referred to that night, and I know we never will.

For three days after that evening, I couldn't get myself to really talk to Amy, unable to even look her in the eye. I was consumed with guilt, convinced I'd destroyed both our lives, ashamed that I couldn't dampen this lust that was increasingly wracking my psyche. They were the three longest days in my life; three days and three long, interminable nights.

My daughter saved me. She came to me on that last evening, after midnight, standing alongside my bed in a simple nightgown, the hall light casting a halo about her.

"Hi," that weak, sweet voice.

I couldn't answer.

"Don't feel bad about what happened."

"I should've..."

"I love you, Dad."

Amy stepped closer and lifted the nightgown over her head, absently dropping it to the floor. I felt the bed give as she carefully climbed atop me, my face curtained with soft hair as she bent to kiss me.

"I want you to make love to me again," she said. "Do you have a thing?"

I'd bought three packs of condoms over these past three days, tossing each out the window before I'd get home. I'd gone out and gotten another three-pack before I came home tonight, shamed as I'd hidden it in the nightstand drawer.

"Yeah," I nodded.

Amy clucked and kissed me again. I reached up and took a grip on her slim, muscular thighs, guiding her up until she was perfectly straddled over my face, her hands finding purchase on the headboard as I pulled her pelvis to me, her cunt sodden and warm as she ground her full weight down onto my mouth.

I still see every detail after all these years. I made love to my little girl that night and on so many nights thereafter. If I'm judged, so be it.

The years have gone past and things have changed. It must seem strange to hear me say that I heard about each of my daughter's boyfriends as we lay in my bed—and yes, I did get off on each and every dirty detail.

The only rocky spot I'd ever acknowledge between us was during the span of her first marriage; her husband a guy I just couldn't stand. Could not stand him, and couldn't get past the way Amy arbitrarily decided to cut off our physical relationship. I could understand where she was coming from; I just couldn't get past it emotionally, and not just on the sex side of things. The closeness between us was replaced by distance, as if she didn't trust herself to control her own desires. For nearly two years my girl would go out of her way to avoid being with me alone

Two years, and then one day it was over. I won't get into the messy details, but suffice it to say one afternoon I got a call; Amy asking if she could move back in for awhile, maybe go back to school. It was something she didn't even have to ask. She'd always have a home here.

She moved her things in and I've got to be honest and say absolutely nothing happened. She went back for her masters and saw the divorce through. We'd eat dinner almost every night, hang out, but never once did we talk about where we'd been physically. We got to be friends again, real friends, maybe closer than we'd ever been. I never made a pass; she never gave any indication that she wanted one. Seven months like that. Then one night she again came to my bed again, standing there naked, changed in the years since we'd last been together. She was more of a woman now, still beautiful, but different, fuller of figure, a face etched with experience.

"Want some company?" she said, a playful smile, her newly short hair bringing out the highlights of her face. It was a good face, closer to her Mom's face.

It was the best time in my life sexually; for her too, I think. For nearly three years Amy shared my bed as a lover would, the two of us often laying there together in the dark, spent from fucking, loving each other with a passion I can't really relate. It was a time when we had time, money coming in, traveling during her summer breaks, a father and daughter seeing the world, no one guessing at the fact that I'd ridden her pretty face into the pillow the night before or that she'd greedily swallowed my load in the shower that morning.

It was the best, and it was I who ended it, or at least altered it. I told my girl that she needed to see other guys—and not just so she could tell me how she'd sucked off her boyfriend that night, though I'm telling you each and every tale was better than anything you could read on the internet—but, because I knew she needed to have a life, a real life. A man who loved her, k**s.

I handled it right, and she knew it wasn't a rejection on my part. It was the most elemental act of love I was capable of.

Twelve years ago my daughter was married. Ed is a terrific guy, smart, attractive. Weirdly, he was someone I knew professionally, and had set her up with; a blind date and then a big church wedding less than a year later. And I'd told her up front that however she wanted to handle this thing with "us" was okay with me. I told her to think it out after they'd gotten engaged. Take your time...

My lovely daughter spent the night before her wedding in my bed, riding my cock with carnal abandon. It sort of told me that I wouldn't be out in the cold after the honeymoon. One of my few regrets is that I didn't ask her to model her wedding dress for me that night, to wear the veil as she galloped atop my shaft. I know that probably sounds particularly twisted, but I know for certain that she would've done it if I'd asked.

Anyway, twelve years and we still do it. I hope that I don't imply that Ed is some kind of slouch in the sex department, as he keeps her, by her own admission, well lubed. She's had two boys since then, and yes, I've fucked her throughout both pregnancies, suckling her newly heavy breasts, tasting the sweet, warm milk, caressing that shockingly big belly. And so that you're not left wondering, I'd always use a rubber when she was planning on getting with c***d. The k**s look like Ed spit 'em out; maybe their toes look like mine.

Last year we spent three days alone—traveling to Florida for her aunt's funeral, booking adjoining rooms at the Hilton, the connecting door open the whole time. It was like old times as you can well imagine; waking up to a blow job, humping recklessly in the shower, my sweet baby girl offering her ass to me, which was something we'd only done once before. Sounds morbid, I know, but I'm paying a lot of attention to the health of our relatives these days.

I hope you've enjoyed my sharing this, as I've enjoyed telling it. It is early morning now, a Wednesday. I'm expecting Amy at noon or a little before. And to think it all started with my stripping her raw and letting her be used by those two guys. Stranger that fucking hell, isn't it.

Anyway, I felt it was important for you to know how it all worked out. I'm just one happy SOB, living in the damn pink here. And Amy...she never dressed like a cheap slut again, let me assure you of that.

We're discreet in the extreme these days—Amy usually stops by my house for lunch once or twice a week. Ed knows she's coming by to see me—but certainly not to be my i****tuous bedmate—and sometimes he'll even phone her here.

Our usual play these days is to move directly into my bedroom, not saying anything, undressing in front of each other and just coming together. That body that sprang from my own genes is still the most erotic sight I've ever seen.


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Categories: MatureTaboo
Posted by sexaddict66
2 years ago    Views: 2,809
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2 years ago
A really nice erotic and loving story!!!
rokard
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2 years ago
Excellent story, extremely well written and without doubt the best around. The epilogue is a great touch, gives more connection. Once again, good job
tossmenow
retired
2 years ago
Best story ever you should write a book cos that's better than porn, even if its lies what an imagination. And as for Charlie, a car crash was most likely not the end of him if you catch my drift.
2 years ago
Great story, thanks for the effort....nice one.