Dances to a hit song, father becomes a predator

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I had heard the song before. I’m sure you have too, a thousand times.

Blurred lines.

I know you want it.

For most of last summer, it was the only song on the radio. Being a forty-five year old father of two, I wasn’t exactly the target demographic. The only reason I remembered the name of the song was when my wife showed me the online-only version of the music video.

“I can’t believe this,” she said, as two almost entirely nude girls frolicked around on the screen. “Remember when we watched MTV and it was just music and the band playing? What the hell is this?”

I shook my head, partly disgusted (because I was), and partly playing the role of the cordial husband. “I know it’s cliche, but what is wrong with kids these days? This is practically porn.”

All the while I was half-wondering when I’d find the alone time to jerk off to it. I had to say things like that ever since her moral crusade had started some years ago. It was a reason we’d started to grow apart, and why sex was perhaps a once-a-month proposition. I would think back to our younger days, when she told me she would have married me only for my massive ‘endowment,’ and we even fooled around with the idea of swinging. I’d also think back to my idealistic young self thinking that looks weren’t that important in a wife. Now I was trapped with a flat-chested republican raisin (my God I’m awful, but if you’d seen how she looked, you’d at least understand me, I hope). Where had my cute little pervert gone? C’est la vie, I’d tell myself. Such is marriage.

“This is how it happens, boundaries just get destroyed,” she continued, “It’s not like this is obscure. This is the most popular song and video right now. A song about rape with four minutes of nude girls dancing around for the video. What’s next? What will shock our grandkids? When does it stop?”

She shook her head. I walked away from her desk as she kept browsing the internet on her laptop. And, as far as I was concerned, I’d never think twice about the silly song again.

A week later, I left work early walked into my house, and the song was blaring out of my living room. It wasn’t the first time I’d come home to a girl dance party. My eighteen year old daughter had been boogying it up with her friends after school since her grade school days. I usually glanced into the living room before leaving them be, rather than barging in to be the “lame dad” that made them hit the stop button.

As much as it may make me sound like a pervert, my daughter had to deal with being otherworldly attractive for years. By the time her birthday hit, she was something you can’t describe. You could say it was “it.” If I had to take a shot at it, she would be Jennifer Lawrence’s face attached to Kelly Brook’s body, but that doesn’t do her justice. Take away the minor faults of either of those two gorgeous woman, and you’ be closer to the miracle that was my daughter.

Cheerleading, modelling, acting, “pretty girl” things were her activities for years. She was the girl you looked at and knew she could make a career just from being beautiful. Yet she was fairly smart, or at least average, which I accepted. Still, I never thought of it in anything beyond a fatherly capacity. When the thousandth person remarked that “she should be a model” to me or my wife, we knew what they meant. When another neighborhood dad, coach, or teacher, was a little too smiley and let their hand linger on her shoulder after demanding a hug because of “how glad they were to see her,” I never made a fuss. She had the common sense to know when an old man wanted a hug to feel her chest against them. It was the way the world worked, and that was the end of it.

This time, when I glanced in on one of her dance parties, it was far from what I expected.

My daughter was shucking and jiving in nothing but thong underwear, the same type the models wore in the video. Her far less attractive friend was next to her, also nearly nude, mimicking the moves from the video.

I froze and hid behind the doorway into the kitchen, a good twenty feet from the living room. I had a full on view of the proceedings, and knew my wife and son wouldn’t be home for at least another half an hour. At first I wanted to barge in and start yelling like a typical father would, but there was some sick curiosity in me that made me watch a bit longer than I should have. Then, with what I saw, I watched for far longer than a healthy man should. Or perhaps, with a woman with my daughter’s looks nearly nude in front of me, that’s exactly what a healthy man would do.

You’re the hottest bitch in this place.

They would start off the top of the song mimicking the girls from the music video exactly. Same stuttering walks, same clawing motions, same poses. Then around the time the rapper’s verse came up, they did this sort of hip shaking routine with their arms above their heads. I supposed this was their version of improvising. All the while they were laughing and singing, thinking it was just an innocent teen singalong.

Then the beat dropped and it was a raw drum thundering over the occasional looped lyric, and my daughters body did something to me that made me feel something I had never experienced before in my life.

When the drop came, and the music changed, she mounted her back arms on our living room sofa and gyrated her hips in a humping motion. Her ass was slightly on a dresser behind the couch, so her legs were lifted just off the floor. However she was moving her hips, it caused her breasts to jiggle in these tight, controlled circles. Every ounce of her youthful energy and the pertness of her jostling breasts just seemed to flow forth in a beam of light, straight at me.

“Yea baby, shake those tits!” her friend called out, laughing. It was some kind of moral justification for their debauchery, they were just ‘having fun’, lol, lmfao, #funny. With my daughter’s head tilted back, her eyes closed, her brow slightly furled and her puffy lips quivering, there wasn’t any doubt in my mind that she was fucking the air with the intensity of an experienced backroom stripper.

The blood rush to my cock so fast that my face went cold. I was taken back with the way she looked at that moment. It didn’t help that the portion of the song lasted for a full twenty seconds. Her friend danced around and sort of held fort while my daughter took the sexually charged, pop-culture endorsed debauchery to take her mind and body to another place. I felt my eyes sink and my mouth drop open. The pure sexual need spewing forth from her felt like a scorching hot wind blowing into my face. It was the most erotic experience I had ever had in my life.

To save you time, I’ll summarize that they replayed the song in all its glory, and they had the routine down to a science. When the beat was about to drop, I started to rub my rock hard erection through my pants. This time, my daughter seemed to press it to another level, trying hard to get whatever teenaged horniness haunted her soul out into the world as she gyrated in that perfect motion. I came, hard, before she was done. As I sprayed my sorry self, I took a “hi-def” mental image of the pure sex before me. As they cued it up again, I did the smart thing and went upstairs as quiet as a church mouse. It was a good thing I did, since if I had succumbed to temptation and continued to watch, I would have been the first thing my wife and son saw as they came into the house. My daughter and friend must have escaped with their stereo as they pulled into the driveway, as my wife didn’t discipline her or mention what they were doing.

It was next to impossible for me to make it through dinner while acting normal. My daughter had changed into a black turtleneck that squeezed her figure, while her hair was braided back, bringing her face out to my newly opened eyes. I was like a twelve year old kid, stealing glances at her tits, looking away just in time to ensure she didn’t see me. She mentioned that her boyfriend, Kyle, would be coming to dinner the next evening. My wife and I hated the kid, but it was based purely on appearances. He was a scrawny, dumb-looking boy with those quarter-sized earrings shoved into his ears. Nothing about the kid was remarkable, and the two of them spent far too much time in our basement for me to be comfortable. Well, the former me. When she mentioned it, I had a spark of deviousness crop into my mind.

Even though I was dog tired, I feigned an inability to sleep and told my wife I was going to sit in the study. I googled for an hour or two, figuring out how to turn my old iPod into an amateur security camera. I found a way to capture footage and upload it in hour-long increments to my computer. I grabbed the dock, plugged it in, and set it up in a dark corner on top of the entertainment center. I was officially spying on my teenaged daughter, and I hadn’t involved rational thought in the process.

On the way up the stairs, I grabbed a handful of toilet paper since I knew what was about to happen. My libido was in control, and I was following its lead. I checked the kitchen and living room, seeing if my little ghetto surveillance setup could capture their dance routine. It couldn’t…too many open areas, too much light. I went to the spot over our mundane sofa, where she’d danced and ripped open my suppressed sex life like a buzzsaw. I straddled it, my cock protruding from my boxers. The angle fit. If I could step into my fantasy, I would be inside her as she ground and shook that perfect body in front of me. I barely jerked myself before the first load came. Into the toilet paper it went, as I shuddered like a pathetic old man. I half expected to snap out of my lust coma during my post-jerk moment of clarity. I had no luck. I heard her friend in my head.

“Yea! Shake those tits!”

I closed my eyes and brought my cock back to life over the course of five minutes. Another load, another image of her burned into my eyes. I looked down as it pulsated back to flaccid. They can take away your skin, your hair, and everything else as you age. I still had some hair, but my body and face were aging. The one thing they can’t take away from you is a big cock. I still had that going for me.

I turned, and saw my daughter in the stairwell. I looked back, and realized I had left one of my soiled toilet paper shards on the dresser behind the couch.

“What’re you doing down here?” she asked.

I sighed, trying to act at ease. “I couldn’t sleep, so I came down here.”

She leaned against the kitchen doorway. “So you jerk off to help you fall asleep?”

I was confused, until i saw my cock peeking out from my boxers. I covered myself, “No, this is a coincidence. And don’t talk to your father that way.”

She looked down, “Sorry.” She peeked into the refrigerator in a bit of a hurry, grabbed a drink, and went back upstairs. I grabbed the toilet paper and threw it in the trash. I’d never felt so pathetic.

This wasn’t outside the realm of my daughter’s personality. Her whole life she’d been weirdly blunt, rather cold, calculated…very adult for her age. I could never put my finger on it, but as far as her personality she was different from your average teen. And as far as our dad/daughter relationship…she was an adorable little girl, but that was years ago. As she grew older, I always felt our conversations were between her, a doctor in a lab, and me, a guinea pig. Always a little manipulative, very concise, never tender or overly emotional. There was something passive aggressive about everything she did. Yet she never got into trouble, never saw disciplinary action at school. We were distant by the time she was a junior in high school. I wouldn’t say we were “friends.”

Dinner came the next evening, and I was back to glancing at her body. This time she decided to wear a camisole with a plunging neckline. I loved the moles along her breast. We made shitty conversation with her boyfriend, they went downstairs for a few hours, and he was out of my house by 9:30. A couple hours later, I left my sleeping wife to watch my perverted surveillance video.

I fucked something up with the setup, but by pure luck it started at the point where she had her clothes off. I’d pretended in the past that she wasn’t sexually active, that the two of them watched TV innocently in the basement. After her little dance, I assuaged those doubts. As a father, I should care about her virginal innocence, but that part of me was dormant now.

He put his bare cock to her after some very short, very clumsy foreplay.

“You’re super wet,” he said. Apparently she didn’t need much to get horny. I watched as the kid put himself to her far too slowly and softly. It was erotic to watch her in that position, succumbing, taking a dick. Her arms were behind her head and she was concentrating, trying to get into it. The kid had no idea how to rev her motor. If I had a set of tits like those in my face, and they didn’t belong to my daughter, I’d be dehydrated from pleasuring them. This kid seemed to not understand his fortune.

“Do it harder. And faster.”

“I thought you said mine was the biggest you’d had.”

She nodded, “Yea but you have to do it right.”

He overcompensated and started slamming into her, too slowly, and too hard. She sort of moaned a bit, but after a few minutes of the awkwardness, she stopped him. He climbed off her and sat beside her. I figured him to either be a homosexual or incredibly glib to have not cum in her during their coupling. I’m sure in ten years when he found himself hanging drywall and smoking weed in his parent’s guest bedroom, he would regret it.

My daughter brought out a purple dildo from under the futon. He sat and watched like a voyeur as she finished the job, only having half an orgasm from what I could see from the footage.

“I thought you said it was the biggest.” Maybe it was his age or the video angle, but from what I could see, he was hardly above average.

She nodded, “it is.”

They sat in silence. “You can leave now,” she said quietly, as she started to put her clothes back on. He tried to protest, but she just yelled “Just fucking leave, Kyle.” The obedient little future-pizza-delivery-driver put his clothes on and left. From the video, I could hear myself calling goodnight to him from the couch. It made me hot to know my half naked daughter was a few feet beneath me, dying for an orgasm.

I quietly went downstairs and took away the iPod. I sat in the dark of the study after I’d safely password-protected the video and tucked it away. My daughter wanted three things: an oversized penis, a man who knew how to use it, and someone she could control. I went to sleep, dreaming of her bouncing tits over those smooth abs. I was obsessed.

The next morning at work, I made a perverse connection. All my years of utilizing competitive intelligence left me with one conclusion: I had what my daughter needed. I was endowed, I knew I could get her off, and if there’s one thing you can control, it’s a perverted father who’s put his cock inside you. She could run to her mother if I didn’t do things her way, yet I had to make sure she didn’t feel taken advantage of…that it was in her interest to not turn me in, let alone have her feel crushed and ruined. My thoughts went back to my own youth.

My first year in college, just before I met my wife, there’d been a girl. Her name was Alicia, and she was a great little hispanic girl I’d met at a bar. We went back to her place and fooled around, but as I’d take her pants further off, she kept saying how we shouldn’t go further. It got to the point that I was finger banging her, thinking it was all a ruse. When I went for the move to be inside her, she’d pushed me back. Thinking it was a game, I had my cockhead at her pussy lips and pushed forward a bit. That’s when I heard a frank “No, stop. Now.” But I was a drunk horny kid, and I pressed on.

Once I started to penetrate her and stretch her, the protests stopped. I was unsure if I was in the midst of a rape or the best sex of my life. She came, maybe even twice, before we finished. The next day, I called her, hoping she hadn’t called the SWAT team to come throw me in the pen. It winds up she was practically in love with me. We dated for a month before I lost interest, and when I left she fought hard to get me back.

The lesson I learned? When I put my naturally endowed gift in a girl, even if she wasn’t in the mood, even if she thought I was almost assaulting her, I had her hooked. I’d gone my whole life never losing a woman in a relationship. It wasn’t a coincidence.

Dinner that night was a scene from the Twilight Zone. Her mother would ask her about her day at school. Like a perfect schoolgirl from a well-bred home, she responded with articulate answers about how much she enjoyed cheer practice and how great her teachers were. I could see it was all a malaise. A few times she looked at me and mysteriously smiled. I reasoned it was because she was sort of proud to have caught me with my pants down. I knew, beneath it all, she couldn’t stand putting up a front to her mother’s horseshit. She wanted to cum. Knowing what it was like to be a teen, I bet it was all she thought about.

As my delusion grew, I thought through the outcomes if I tried some crazy scheme my daughter. I couldn’t seduce her or be charming. I was her father for christ’s sake. She’d think I was a dirty old man. I wasn’t going to drug her or get her drunk…that felt even slimier than the slimiest idea.I somehow convinced myself that I just had to be in her, at the right moment, and she’d enjoy it. She’d be OK with it. Having sex…with her father. Yes, this was my logical line of reasoning in the state I was in.

Of course, there was a meeting point between my lust crazy brain and this stupid plan: her little dance routine. When she was kneeling back, her eyes closed, gyrating herself. I would sneak in, I would put it in, before she had a chance to react. For a few glowing seconds, I’d be living my own deepest, darkest fantasy. And I gambled that she’d keep it to herself. Maybe she’d even love having a an automatic orgasm walking around her house that she could ride with no commitment. One she could yell at, and control, because she held all the power.

Or, more than likely, I’d lose my family. My wife, my son, my daughter, damaged for life. Maybe even my siblings and parents would never speak to me. Maybe criminal problems. Maybe a silent, oppressed daughter who turned to drugs to overcome her abuse. Then again, she was eighteen, an adult…

Blurred Lines. You know you want it.

A few days passed. I decided I was crazy. I could never hurt her that way, even if she was a sexpot. It was the culture, I decided. The sex-charged song and sex-charged video lead her to act that way…it wasn’t who she really was. Maybe my wife wasn’t wrong. The culture had turned her into a borderline stripper, and if I followed behind her, I was just another amoral hedonist. Did I not value her well-being over my own need to get off? What the hell kind of father has thoughts like this?

I had to make it a little less than a year, jerking away the fantasies, before she went off to college and away from me. I could do it. I reasoned I’d accomplished many difficult things in my life. The fantasies waned. I thought I could survive.

Then Sunday afternoon happened.

I walked up to the door, knowing my wife and son would be away shopping for clothes and sports supplies for at least the next three hours. I could hear that damn siren song coming from the living room. I reasoned the right thing to do would be to go through the front door and alert her to my presence. Of course, I snuck around to the back door. I wasn’t in control anymore. I told myself I just needed to watch her, one more time. Besides, her friend was probably with her, meaning I couldn’t go through with my little psychotic plot.

This time, she was alone. Same routine, same moves. I drank in the first run. I pulled off my shorts, and shirt, and dropped them on the foyer floor. When they dropped to the ground and my hand found my cock, I had a foot in the grave.

How long would a girl dance to a pop song like this before moving on to the next one? How long until I didn’t know the exact time I could cross the threshold, moving from my daughter having an innocent dance to having her father’s dick deep inside her within a five second span, all without her permission? I rationalized everything. She would forgive me and be disgusted. She would love it and we’d fuck like sea otters. I’d fail to sneak up on her and I could feign an excuse. It was time to go for broke.

Tried to domesticate ya. But you’re an animal baby, it’s in yo’ nature.

I made my way to the side entrance to the kitchen and living room. I primed my cock, and waited for my chance to pounce. It happened in slow motion. The beat dropped, and she took her place. I watched her tits go into their perfect gyrations. My blood sped up and I felt a surge of electricity shoot up my spine. I knew I wanted this.

I stepped into the room and stood over her. She didn’t even know I was there, between her legs, watching her. My bare cock was inches away from her exposed pussy, and she had no idea. This was the point of no return.

The head of my cock pressed into her as I gripped the side of her hips. Instinctually she pressed her legs together, shocked. Her arms covered her tits. Before she even reached out to push me away, I was pistoning into her. The tension and neurosis I felt in that brief moment was a drug I never wanted to quit. I’d never outright violated a person like that, in such a rapid, terrifying way. Sadism felt good.

Her eyes became wide and she tried to scream, but as I pushed against her walls, her eyes became even wider and her mouth contorted. The tidal air in her lungs spat out as she tried to deal with the girth, something I had experienced with other girls. Her hands went from pushing into my chest to grabbing the sides of my arms. She was bracing herself. Her mind and her body were in total chaos.

It felt so good. I looked down and couldn’t believe I was in the thick of her body, something I’d seen in hidden glimpses from far away. Her abs were tight and flexing as my cock went into her. Even though my gamble was right and she was slicked wet from the dancing, I was halfway in before it became too tight to continue. I withdrew and pressed in again.

I didn’t take my eyes off her breasts and those convulsing, smooth little abs. I thought I saw her mouth move and say “Dad!” but I couldn’t hear over the music. I concentrated on forcing her body to accommodate me. I also sucked in every millisecond of the moment. I told myself as I carefully plotted my moves that I might wind up in prison after it was all said and done. I needed to inhale the entire moment into every part of my body so the memory would last me the next twenty years in the can.

I finally got her slick little twat to take my full length, and I wrapped my arm around her to hold her steady as I started my pace. Unlike the nerd she opened her legs to in the basement, I was slapping my balls into her in a few seconds. I watched as my cock worked its way in and out of her at a slowly growing pace. I found the courage to look up after my cowardice had fueled me into nudging my own little girl’s cervix. Her eyes were closed and she was grunting in time with my thrusts. She ever so slightly tried to push me away, but her strength seemed to be waning. Regardless of how sick it all was, we were two human beings ready to explode with sexual frustration, and I lit a fuse.

I buried my head into her neck and started rutting. The song faded out and in the brief moment of silence, I could hear her cooing as my ball slaps reverberated across the same living room we shared Christmas in when she was five. It was so disgusting, yet my blood was surging through my every limb. Just before the song started again, she purred little “No, no, no, no’s” as she moaned. Part of her was still fighting it.

I felt her cum once as her fingernails pressed into my back. I turned to her, looking away so we didn’t make eye contact. To my surprise, she kissed me, hard, as she came down and began to roll into her next orgasm. I knew the beat was about to drop. I put my lips to her ears.

“You know the dance you do…at this part,” I said, gasping, my endurance fading, “Sarah…do it for me. Do it. I love it.”

She shut her eyes and threw her head back, crying out. Her hands went against the couch and she started gyrating on my cock. With every motion, her tits would bounce in those tight, pert motions, and my pelvis slapped against her. I couldn’t believe I was in my own fantasy. I couldn’t understand how I’d broken every barrier of decency and human dignity and I was about to live out my sick dreams. I felt my face sink and my mouth go agape. My eyes must have looked drunk. I couldn’t take my eyes off her forbidden, perfect, jostling tits.

No more pretending, hey hey hey

Cause now you winnin’, hey hey hey

Here’s our beginning.

I came so hard I had to shut my eyes. I usually was a silent cummer, but I grunted and had to balance myself as I emptied myself into her. My cock was only half inside, and I remember feeling a primal regret that I hadn’t jammed it into her to the hilt.

She came down from the wave she was cresting on, and I instinctively put her nipple in my mouth. It was my finishing move when I was done with a woman. I looked at it up close, the tiny little blond hairs and the dark, small areolas. I wondered if I would ever be so close to them again.

My cock softening inside her, I looked up. She was looking down at our coupling, and then looked up at me. I could see she was growing confused as the consequences of what happened came over her. I knew what my plan was, but it pained me to do it. I had to blame her for what happened. It was my only chance at keeping her under control.

“You shouldn’t dance like that. Men can’t control themselves, you shouldn’t be so slutty,” was all I said. I threw away more than eighteen years of fatherhood for a good lay, and I made her feel like it was her own fault. It was despicable. Time would tell if it would work.

I hit the stop button on her iPod stereo and walked away. I went upstairs, showered, and dressed. I stayed in the bedroom, masturbating multiple times in memoriam of what I had experienced, until my wife and son came home. When more than ten minutes went by without fevered screaming, I started to calm. Eventually my wife came to fetch me for dinner.

I didn’t say a word to Sarah as my wife carried on the conversation. I felt I was in a coma I was so full of tension. I didn’t even know what words I was saying when I replied to the banal conversation. Whenever I would speak, my daughter would just stare at her dinner plate, wearing a deep frown. She wore a black shirt that hugged her body. I was disgusted with myself when I could see her nipple poking through the material, the one I’d held in my mouth minutes earlier. I reminded myself those were for her husband, and to feed her future children. They weren’t for me…yet I took them anyway.

I kept up the routine, sitting in my easy chair and watching late night TV. When my wife got up to shower, Sarah burst into the room. She pointed at me and said, sternly, at almost a whisper: “What you did was really fucked up. What the fuck is wrong with you?”

I just sat, frozen, feeling like a pathetic old man.

“What the fuck is wrong with you?” she repeated, her eyes wide and her face red, “You think you can do that to me? You think you can use me like that?”

I didn’t say anything. I just stared into her eyes, looking for empathy.

“What the fuck are you? You’re a fucking rapist, you’re disgusting.”

She stormed away before I could call out to her. The blood drained to my feet. Somehow I made it through the rest of the night, with the help of a few scotches.

The work week was brutal. I expected my wife to kill me or the police to show up at any moment. Regardless, I masturbated constantly, reliving my evil deed. I know I wore it on my face at dinner, as my wife repeatedly asked me what was wrong. By Wednesday, Sarah was looking up at me from dinner, sometimes with a worried look, when I would talk or my wife would inquire if I was “ill” or “feeling down.” By Thursday, she was making small talk with me and saying hello when I walked in the door. Friday, the entire day, we were like a normal family.

I was officially one of those scummy sexual predators you see shocked to be alive in mugshots on TV. In another time, I’d be up on a stake, lit on fire, dying to the cheers of righteous, angry villagers. I had such guilt. I should have done more to control myself.

Saturday was my son’s baseball game, and my wife told me to stay home so I could get over “whatever cold or flu I had caught.” This left me alone with Sarah for the first time since I’d forced myself inside her. She was showering in upstairs bathroom, so I headed downstairs to our sauna/shower combo and showered as well. It had it’s own water heater, so I knew I wouldn’t disrupt her.

When I was shaving with a towel wrapped around my waist, I heard footsteps coming downstairs. She came to the doorway, standing about ten feet away from me.

“Hey,” she said. I replied with the same.

“I want to talk to you,” she said. I told her that was fine as I turned to face her.

She sat on the sauna bench across from me. We had a good distance between us.

“That was messed up.”

I exhaled all the air in my lungs out of my nose and I think I turned white, “I know, I know, I fucked up Sarah….”

“Uhm,” she said. She was piecing her words together, “Just tell me, like, what led up to you doing that, and why you did it? Because I want to understand so I can, uhm, forgive you. That can’t happen again, you need to get some help.”

It touched my heart that she looked at it as a malady rather than a reason to turn me into the feds. Daughters love their fathers, to a fault I suppose. I started from the top.

“I’m so sorry. It was the worst thing a father can do, I just…”

She sort of motioned with her hands for me to speed things along, “Yea, I get all that crap. Answer the question so I can understand.”

“Well, I want to say I never thought of you sexually, ever, in your life. This is all new to me. And it isn’t your fault for dancing that way. I think it’s fucked up that our culture has girls doing sing-alongs in the nude, but I’m a hypocrite and I don’t really have any moral authority anymore, now do I?”

Her eyes kind of lit up when I said that, though I wasn’t sure why.

“I walked into the house, early from work, and I saw you and your friend…”

“Jennifer,” she replied. She was very collected and calm. I was jealous, seeing as I felt like I was on the verge of a heart attack.

“…Jennifer, doing the dance. And I watched it a couple of times. And…it brought something out of me. I got kind of obsessed, I guess. Your mom and I don’t make love much, and I had a lot of pent up frustrations from it, and I got kind of obsessed with that little move you do.”

She smiled, “You liked that?”

I sort of nodded, “Something like that. Not ‘like.’ It made me sort of an…animal, I guess. I stopped thinking right. I couldn’t control it. And uhm, I sort of spied on you and your boyfriend when he was over. I hooked up a camera, and it was damaging to see you having sex…I shouldn’t have done it. I know that was fucked up, and I could lie and say it was for your safety, but it was really because I wanted to see you nude, again. I’m a pervert, and it’s disgusting.”

I thought she’d be angry and yell at me, but she seemed to smile again.

“I got kind of pent up, and I told myself I wouldn’t act on it, but I saw you doing the dance again and…that song is really sexually charged, you know? It’s actually about rape, did you know that? Or kind of about it…”

She nodded, “I like how it’s, you know, really messed up lyrically but everybody seems to love it. Even soccer moms. I think that’s hot.”

I nodded, “Uhm, it will never happen again. I am a dog, and I am sorry. I might never make it up to you the rest of your life, but…”

She shook her head, “Stop with that stuff. I liked it when you were keeping it real.”

I stopped, and we were silent for a moment. “Do you, uhm, have anything you want to say to me?”

She sighed, “I’ve known about you and mom for years. I know that she has her whole, ya know, high-horse thing, and that you’re not really like that. I’ve always known that about you.”

It was revealing to hear your own child tell you how they saw through your own marriage. I never took her to be that mature or perceptive. But then again, maybe I never took the time to know her as growing adult at all.

“And I thought something was up that night I saw you in your underwear downstairs. Because you left the basement light on, and there was that tissue by the couch. I didn’t know what it was, but I knew it was weird. And I guess knowing that you saw me and Kyle together kind of explains some stuff…you pry pieced together that I was super fucking horny. Watching the dances, I figured that you had seen me do it before, because of what you said, but now it makes even more sense.”

She shifted on the bench, “And what you did, the first ten-fifteen seconds, I was really scared. And I thought it was a nightmare. But uhm, I guess I have to be honest here. I don’t want relationships. Seeing you and mom, and how society is and stuff…and how it churns people up…I don’t care about having boyfriends, or getting married. And I’ve always wanted to have an orgasm with a guy. I’ve tried with a lot of boys, but I never got there. But you got me there, like three times. And it’s like your mind shuts down, and your body does whatever, and uhm, it was crazy. It was like nothing I’ve ever felt, and I know now why I wanted it so bad. Because it’s the best thing I’ve ever felt.”

She swallowed, “I guess I’m trying to say you were good. You were really good.”

I felt my pride swell, but I kept wearing the face of a solemn, sorry old man. Because that’s how I truly felt. I couldn’t believe she was being so gracious about me doing such a horrible thing.

“Sex with my dad is wrong,” she said. It was such a pure, simple, obvious sentence, “I’ve been saying that a bunch for the last few days, over and over. And I know it’s true, and I’ll always know it’s true. But girls mature a lot faster than boys, and I can’t find a guy who knows what he’s doing, even college guys. Even though you did something awful, I don’t know…I have to forgive you for not asking my permission, and for being my dad and violating a lot of our relationship. But sex with your dad is wrong, and what you did is wrong.”

She shifted again and sighed, “It took me a day or so, but I wasn’t even mad at you about ramming it in. I really want to feel pissed about that, but for some reason I can’t….”

I flashed back to the dichotomy of Alicia from college, pleading with me to stop before I put it in her, and then to her pleading with me to stay. I’d put the same groundswell of irrationality in my own daughter.

“I was actually, as fucked up as it sounds, sad that you didn’t stay and hold me or talk to me. You just said that shitty thing about me dancing and left. I felt really cold and alone. That’s what I was actually mad about. And I wanted you to know.”

I nodded, “I’m sorry for making you feel anything. All of this was messed up and wrong, you’re right.”

She shook her head and laughed nervously, “I uhm, I can’t stop thinking about cumming. And I think, even though it’s disgusting and fucked up, in a way you were trying to be my dad. I was naked, and I do that move because that part of the song really makes me feel like I’m having an orgasm, or at least what I used to think it felt like. And I try to think, maybe this is true, but I like to think you saw your daughter in need. And I’m not that articulate, but I know that cavemen used to fuck their own daughters, right? Like, Adam and Eve stuff. So, there was some part of you that’s ape, the part women like a man to be when they’re in bed, that just took over. You saw me in need, and you wanted to fill that need.”

I was taken aback at how smart and insightful she was. I never saw it that way, but maybe she was right. Seeing her in that position, with my fatherly instincts mixing with my overdriven perversion, must have been part of it. I was a cluster of emotions, perhaps she was right.

“But you went about it the wrong way. I don’t know how you could have went about it, since it’s taboo to ask to fuck your own daughter, and I never would have gone through with it for a million reasons, but that was the wrong way to do it. But well…I’m not going to screw up your life or anything. And I like that I can talk to you like this now, since our family is pretty lame. I mean it’s like mom is a prison warden and we can’t just be real with each other. And what we did together, that felt really real. After a few seconds, even as I was cumming, it started making sense. So I wanted to talk to you, so you could stop feeling so bad.”

She was quiet. It occurred to me that this was all a ticking timebomb. Her logic seemed sound now, in the eyes of a young girl rationalizing too many things at once. Someday she’d turn into a protective mother and realize just how fucked up I was and what I’d done. She was my wife’s daughter after all. Then again, maybe she was speaking some kind of truth that’d last. Seeing how the consequences hadn’t played out at all how I expected, I didn’t know.

“I appreciate what you’re saying. But, I took advantage of being your dad. And that in itself is very wrong. No matter what. And I’ll always be sorry.”

She shrugged, “I’m kind of hoping we could be something unique. Not special, and not like yucky romantic or anything. You’re my dad and I’m not going to, like, have feelings for you. But I want us to have total truth, and I’m in control. You had your one time being out of control, and now I’m in control. No more rapey creepy shit, OK? Period. Whatever I say is what goes.”

I nodded, “Never.”

She sat back, relaxing. It was still rather surreal how normal she was, but a teenager’s life is full of perversions and insane sexual situations. Look at how absurd the most popular pop song and video of the year was. A video of naked women dancing to a song about rape. She was probably more sexually mature than I was.

“So, I want to ask you questions, about sexual stuff, and you have to answer me like a man. Like the man who snuck up on me the other day. I like having no bullshit between us, it’s a refreshing change for this family.”

I nodded, “Anything, hun. Whatever you want.”

She thought for a moment.

“Do you think I’m as pretty as the girl in that video?”

This harkened back to the reason young girls danced to pop songs. Part of them wanted to be the star, to be beautiful and have all the attention. I remembered our agreement, and the mood in the air.

“If I was being your father, I’d remind you that you were the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen. But…we’re talking about the brown-haired one, the girl that’s getting famous?”

She nodded, “Her name is Emily. All the guys at school are obsessed with her.”

“Right, hmm…if you want the truth from a perverts perspective….her breasts might be a bit bigger, but yours have a nicer shape. Her abs are too small, and she has no belly button. Your abs are perfect and your hips come out more so you have better proportions. You have a little tuft of fat over your belly that a guy wants to dig his thumbs into when he’s inside you, riding you.”

I just realized what words were coming out of my mouth, and how surreal it all was. My inhibitions were gone. The neurosis was fueling me. I was talking off the top of my head.

“And you’re far prettier. She has a nice face, nice chin…you have deep, very faraway eyes. Brighter eyes. Same if not nicer chin/cheeks. And a better ass, more perky, more tight.”

She blushed a little, “Oh my God that’s really true. I can tell. So…you’d rather fuck me than her?”

I squirmed a little, “I don’t think there’s any question. Look at what I risked to do that. I risked ruining my life just to touch you.”

I was finding some kind of sick silver lining of truth to my debauchery. Finding something to be proud of through from surprising your daughter with your cockhead is….optimism?

“Well, I tried to understand you, so I looked stuff up. I read on the internet that most sexual perpetrators who commit incest are, like, pedophiles. They do it from when their kids are super young. So I don’t think you’re that fucked up. You need help, but I think you just cheated on your wife with someone who happened to be your daughter, you know?”

I stayed silent. I wasn’t going to let myself off the hook anytime soon. Rationalization is very, very dangerous. I learned that the hard way.

“So….wow. I mean everybody says this modelling stuff is what I’m supposed to do, but even my own dad. Wow. You’re, like, the last person on earth who should try to fuck me, and you couldn’t control yourself. And you think I’m sexier than Emily. Wow.”

I did, and you would too. She was from another planet. “I think you dance better too.”

She smiled again, “Really?”

I shrugged, “I didn’t become an incest fan until you did that move.”

She outright laughed, “God that’s so fucked up, incest fan,” I tried to smile with her, but my heart broke a little that something so absurd gave her a rise and a giggle. Did anything phase kids from her generation?

“OK, this is the other thing I wanted to do, uhm….” she put her hands out and sort of prepared herself, “With me just being me, look at me sexually.”

We made eye contact, and my eyes roamed up and down.

“I kind of want to know what my teachers and my friend’s dads think when they look at me. Because, I know I can fuck them, and maybe I can get things from them, but I’m not sure if they know what they’re doing or if they’re thinking about me.”

“They are, ” I said. It was like asking if the sky wasn’t blue. “If I can say something, uhm. I’m being real here. The whole thing adults say about getting good grades and trying hard at school? That’s the plan people lay out for the average kids, and the smart kids. Then you’ve got athletes, maybe a computer whiz, maybe a model,” I motioned to her with my hand, “Or a model/actress…I mean, it’s not all a lie. Being educated can help you a lot in life, and keeps you safe and on track. But you’re not one of them. Your looks…those dads/teachers know they’ll see maybe two or three women like you in their lifetime. So will most other men. One of those guys will be rich, and a guy you can control…”

“Like Kyle…” she interjected.

“Well no, he will never be rich…”

She laughed. It made me feel good that she knew he wasn’t up to her standards.

“Anyways…” I said, wanting to go on.

“There’s been a lot of guys besides Kyle.”

She seemed to think it was a secret worth protecting.

“Oh. How many?”

She sort of squirmed, “Like, fifteen. Twenty. I guess…sixteen or twenty-one, with, ya know…”

I tried to seem unphased. It was another generational thing…I guess. I moved forward, wanting to skip the gory details. And to stop myself from asking how the hell she didn’t know the exact number.

“Like I was saying…you can take your own route. You can marry a rich man, easily. You can make your own money intimidating people with how you look. You can make money modelling, you can sleep with your professors to get straight A’s, sleep with your landlord to get the rent That isn’t the average girl, even if so many think they have what it takes. You’re it, you’re the ‘it’ girl. And I’ve known that about you for years, and so has your mom. We see it in how people interact with you.”

“But you never wanted to fuck me?”

My brow jerked as I yelled “No!” For a moment my pervert side totally receded and I was a father again. Maybe all I wanted this entire time was a little emotional honesty with my daughter. Well, no, I wanted to suck on her tits and cum inside her while she did a dance move that would make a stripper jealous. I shouldn’t romanticize anything.

“Never for one second. Never. It was seeing you dance, it turned me into somebody else. And now I have to go my whole life knowing I practically raped my daughter.”

She shook her head, “You didn’t rape me. I kind of hung that over your head so you’d feel guilty, I shouldn’t have done that. The second you walked in the living room, I knew you were there, I felt your presence. It couldn’t have been anyone else, I knew it was you. And in the moment, I liked that you were watching me dance. I didn’t know if you were waiting to tap me on the shoulder to yell at me, but it didn’t matter, because it felt good to have a man look over me when I was being…you know, free. I could have opened my eyes just then and embarrassed us both, but I didn’t. When you made your little move, I could have hit you in the balls and shoved you off. I didn’t. I had my chance, and I was horny. I’m almost glad I barely had time to react. It was way, way, way too strong of a come-on, but…I was in control.”

I didn’t know if she was telling herself that, or if it was true. It did make me feel better.

I continued, “Anyways…listen. In today’s world, you can use sex as a weapon. Sure, I’d like to see you run off and marry a guy and wait to make love until you’re married, all the while being a dynamo in your career, that’s a comforting fantasy. But for a woman who looks the way you do, it just isn’t as hard to get what you want. If you’re safe, and you’re smart, sex is something you can hold in your back pocket. Try to be a smart person and work hard for what you want, but if you need to use it, do it. Other women will, so you have to be willing to go the distance if you deeply, truly want something. It’s just how the real world works.”

I wasn’t sure if I’d given the most candid or simply the worst advice a father can give his daughter. She shook her head, “And yet I have to sit through assemblies at school about abstinence and staying true to yourself.”

I sighed, “I wish that were all true. In a perfect world it would be.”

She nodded, “OK, so back to the start, let me do this. Drop your towel.”

She motioned to me and I hesitated. “Come on big boy, no more secrets, drop the towel. Or I tell mom.”

She laughed a little, but I felt a sinking feeling. Yup, she was in control alright. I thought if it was worth it to put my cock in her as she gyrated in exchange for her lifetime control over me. Yup, it was. I did as she asked.

“OK, so we’re at about flaccid right now. Cool, OK now me…”

She took her T-shirt off and her pajama pants. As her shirt went over her head, I saw a black lace bra and panties. The bra barely contained her chest. Her legs were fresh shaven and silky smooth. I remembered that I never had my chance to run my hands across them during our first session.

She laid back into the sauna bench, “Don’t be romantic or weird, just be dirty and truthful. Where do your eyes go?”

I licked my lips and thought, “The little patch of tiny blond hairs between your chest and your tummy. Then to, uhm, between your legs.”

She smiled, “OK cool, do I look better when I do this pose?”

Rising up, she put her hands down and thrust her ass out towards me.

“No,” I replied, honestly. She turned around and leaned against the bench. “Now?” she asked.

I shook my head, “The way you were. You being you. That’s when you look your best. You don’t have to fake any of it. Like I said, you’re not one of those types of girls.”

She went back to laying naturally against the bench. Her tummy was bunched up the littlest bit, while she had one leg flexed with her knee in the air, the other leg resting over the bench as her foot dangled.

“Where did your eyes go just then?”

I sighed. I didn’t know if being truthful would make me sound nuts, but she wanted to hear it.

“To your tummy.”

I felt I had to justify myself. What I said next felt like it was coming out of someone else’s mouth.

“I have a fantasy, not all guys do, but I do, that when I see a girl with flat abs that it’s my job to put a baby in her. And uhm, I had that with your mom years ago. Making her belly ‘big’ was my big, I dunno, goal. Then it’s back to your crotch. I want to step in between your legs and run my cock over your pussy.”

I was about half erect. She noticed and kind of sighed at my words.

“You came in me last week. I’m not on the pill.”

I gulped. I didn’t know if it was audible.

“I liked the way it felt,” she said, “I liked knowing that my dad could have put his baby in me. It’s sick and it’s fucked up.”

I felt a slow dread run through me, “Did you take the morning after pill?”

She smiled, “Maybe I did, maybe I didn’t. Maybe I found the porn folder on your computer.”

Oh, wow. It was about a hundred videos of young blonde girls getting ‘accidental creampies.’

“Maybe I liked the way the risk felt. Do you like the way this feels? Not knowing if I’m pregnant?”

I don’t know where she learned to talk dirty, but she apparently inherited my fetish for unprotected sex.

Up came the honesty, “Yes.”

She put her pinky in her mouth and smiled, “I bet you want to put your cum in me again. What would you do if I let you move from that spot?”

My dick was openly hard and she was staring at it. “I’d move in between your legs.”

“Hmmm…good to know. This is so fun, you’re like my big-dicked Ken doll.”

Everything was quiet. She let me stand there, ogling her. Her bra rose and fell as she breathed. Some women look better in lingerie than they did naked. My daughter looked good in both states of dress.

“You can come here and you can stand between my legs. But you can’t say anything or touch me unless I ask you something.”

I shook my head, “That’s a bad idea. Let’s just talk.”

She sighed, “You owe me. Rapist.”

Defeated, I walked forward and did as she said. My cock was at the same level as her mouth. Unlike my blind lust before, I had real trepidation about repeating this again. She was my daughter, and I had made an awful mistake.

“You told me what you thought of me. I get to tell you now,” she said. She spoke slowly, in halting words, soaking in our newly close proximity. “I think you look kind of old in the face, but you have nice eyes. I notice a lot of things about you now that I didn’t before last week. Like your smile, and your hair. I like your smell now, I liked it before but now I want to smell it for different reasons.”

She looked me over, “Your body is OK. A lot of older guys look gross, but you don’t have a gut and I like all your chest hair. Girls say they don’t like hairy guys, but they do. And I wish you would shave your pubic hair.”

It took her a bit of time, but she rested on her elbows and looked at my cockhead.

“I know your cock is gross looking, I know it in my mind. But…I know what it can do to me, and I know I can have it as much as I want. I feel really warm and kind of crazy when I think that you live with me, and all it takes to start feeling good is taking our pants off and putting…that…in me. I feel like I would rather do that more than anything else, and it’s been bugging the shit out of me.”

She sort of squirmed, “And I know I’m not supposed to touch it. But I want to. And I have to fight not to. Your hands are great too. It’s actually good that they’re older, I like the way they look weathered. And it felt good when you held me, like I was really safe. It made me feel less weird once we got going, and I want you to hold me like that again.”

Her confessions were turning me on. I don’t think I’d ever had a more frank discussion with another human being before.

“Don’t say it, but think about what you’d do to me next. Don’t go all the way, just the first thing you would do if you wanted to be inside me again. The thing all the other men in the world want to do when they see me, like this. Or even if I was fully clothed. The first thing.”

I already had it in my head.

“Do you have it?”

“Mmmhmmm,” I grunted in reply.

She smiled, sort of presenting herself to me.

“Do it.”

In one motion, I reached forward and ripped the front of her bra clean off. It was an old parlor trick I learned in my frat days. She was shocked and gasped in response, cooing. Her breasts fell to the side slowly as the tension of the bra gave way. One of her nipples escaped and my eyes darted to it. For a time, she had her eyes closed, and looked vulnerable as a dead leaf. I wanted to tear into her.

“Jesus, you fucking animal, that was a $30 bra!” she was breathing heavily, her eyes a little hazy, “I don’t care, that was fucking hot. Your bicep got all big.”

I just stood above her, hoping she wouldn’t let me continue.

“Move back for a sec.”

I complied. She rose up, her tits dangling as she stood. She leaned into me, letting my cock press against her panties. Without breaking eye contact, she flipped the switch on the sauna and shut the glass door.

“Lay down.”

I did as she said, and I could feel the heat start to rush from the coals. She straddled me, still wearing panties.

“Aaahh, so happy we’re OK now,” she cooed, rubbing my cock against her, “I was afraid you’d act like a dick and we couldn’t hang out like this. But you’ve been cool.”

I felt her moist heat even as the sauna rose to an insane temperature. No matter how I had acted in the past, I didn’t want to become addicted to sex with my daughter. Even if this felt like a “good” consequence, I could see a million reasons why it was all very, very bad. Apparently she did as well.

“Let’s go over the reasons why I shouldn’t put this inside me.” She said, pressing her hand into my cock so the length rested against her crotch as she rubbed against me. She looked me dead in the eye.

“Sex with my dad is wrong,” she said smiling, my cock a few inches from her pussy, “Sex with my dad is wrong.”

Her body quivered and she sort of smiled, “Let’s see what else? It would ruin mom and break her heart if she ever found out. But she won’t. I could get addicted to this and not seek out other boys, who are supposed to court me, and seduce me, and marry me, all because of how I look. I know I don’t give a shit about any of that. Hmmmm, whaatt eellseee…”

She was having trouble speaking. Something immense was welling up inside her,

“I could get pregnant and fuck up royally. Not take any birth control, not get an abortion. Give birth to some Kentucky trailer-looking retard baby, screw my body and brain up forever by giving birth to paw-paw’s baby. Hmmm…But it’s not the 1950s so we’re good there. Ooohhhh…”

A shaking pelvis ground into the base of my cock. It belonged to a girl whom I teached bike riding to at the age of 10. Now she was riding me, and I felt terrible about it.

“The psychological effects, surely there will be some. They’d keep me from empathizing with normal people who don’t get off on any old cock…the ones who don’t look at their dads like human dildos, but hey…some dads beat their kids. Some dads burn them with cigarettes when their infants…could be worse…”

Her eyes found mine again.

“Rip the panties off.”

With two hands I reached forward and ripped the front in half with little effort. She closed her eyes and gasped again, loving the display as I ripped apart the lace. When her hips moved forward, the head of my dick was at her entrance. She stayed in that position for awhile and sort of gyrated on it. I watched her tits gently sway as she did so, and felt more turned on. Even if I felt some dread, I was a red-blooded man and wanted to thrust forward. She pulled away.

“What if I fall in love with you?” she asked, continuing, “Ohmigod, what if I have feelings for you? And I get attached? To my own dad…” she sort of backed off. I hoped her senses were coming to her, “What if this is stockholm syndrome? I mean…can I be with other men? Am I gonna do drugs the rest of my life to deal with these feelings? Am I already fucked up…how do you even know if you’re fucked up…”

Her mound floated up above my cock again. So far we’d been all about signs and indulging in what we wanted from each other…in forty-five years I’d learned at least something about the complexities of women. I think she was telling me something. The sauna was on full blast and a bead of sweat dripped off her rock-hard hip bone and onto my balls. Her hair was was matted and wet, with lengths of it stuck to her forehead.

“I mean, am I going to fuck you if I want something? What if I want to go to Europe and you won’t let me, or give me the money? Oh gosh I just wish I…”

I grabbed her hand and placed it on the base of my cock. My other hand pressed down, hard, on her hip, pushing her towards me yet giving her enough slack to ensure I wasn’t the one that crossed the line.

“Shut up and do it. Or get up and leave.”

I nestled the tip in her entrance. I gambled correctly and she gave me a big smile. Her hand reached and tousled my hair.

“That’s my dad.”

She rested her hand on her hip, above mine, and lowered herself down. She shuddered as it pressed into her, and somehow her body felt hotter than the surrounding sauna.

“I wanna do just the tip. That’s safe, and you’re not cheating on mom.”

I could tell from her eyes this was one of her games.

“It feels good though,” I said, “Let’s go a bit further.”

“No, don’t, I’m not on the pill.”

“I promise I won’t cum in you…just a little bit, think of how good it will feel.”

“No, stop, this is wrong.”

I slowed myself in. Her hands rested on my pecs and she let out an audible cry of pain and joy. Watching her lower onto my shaft was like watching a mechanic ease a car down from a hydraulic stand.

“Ok, ok, but just a little bit,” she said, “Just a few pumps.”

My God, she was such a little demon. Her pussy lips sucked against me as she rose up and down, slowly finding her sweet spot. She started grinding and moving towards her orgasm. I was afraid to keep up the dirty talk, for fear of not knowing what she wanted. The girl was high on mind games.

“You’re my dad, this has to stop,” she said as she let the first orgasm take her over. She cried out and I grabbed her sweaty tit. I flicked it with my thumb as I took my hand away and it jostled too and fro, beads of water falling around the nipple. It was a sight to behold.

“I should stop now, you’re going to cum.”

She started pulling off me, and I saw my cue. I grabbed her hips and forced her back down.

“No! Please!” she gasped, desperately, playing the role, “You’re going to cum!”

I pressed into her, forcing her down. She leaned forward and grabbed onto a beam of wood over my head. Her breasts hung right in front of my face.

“Let me go you fucking pervert. You said just the tip!”

I put her nipple in my mouth and sucked. I was blessed to have them in my face again. Dripping with sweat, swinging as she fucked me.

“I don’t want a baby…no, please…”

She started to cum again, but I couldn’t hold back. I didn’t make the same mistake twice, putting my cock to the hilt inside her as I came. She cried out at the sudden rush into her crammed pussy.

“No…no protection…no….”

I pushed her tits together and she feigned sadness. The same way she lit up after performing a scene for us from her seventh-grade play, she changed modes and smiled at me.

“Was that good?”

I smiled, “That was oscar-worthy.”

“Oh my god,” she cried out with the enthusiasm of someone fresh off a roller coaster, “Cumming is great.”

She crawled off of me and walked out into the bathroom.

“Hey, get up, lemme show you something.”

Tears of sweat dripped off her ass as I followed her into the shower.

“I do this everytime I get out of the sauna.”

She faced away from me and draped her hands over my shoulders.

“Turn the cold water on.”

I obeyed, and an icy stream of water sprayed into us. She cried out in glee and shook. I wrapped my hands around her stomach and laughed. After a few seconds she shut off the water, she walked out and grabbed a towel and began drying off.

“Nobody knows I do that. Mom would freak if she knew I did the sauna naked.”

She got on her tippity toes and looked out the basement window. It was a half-pane, with glossy glass, but at close distances you could see what was outside.

“Mr. Harris is in the front yard, look.”

I walked over to her and peered out.

“Talk about a guy who never stops staring…I caught him looking at me when I sunbathed a few months ago.”

She turned, her breasts swaying. “Come over here, stand against the wall.”

Not certain of what she wanted, I obeyed. She jumped into my arms. I nearly fell, but managed to catch her.

“Put it in me. I want to look at him with you inside me.”

I jumbled around a bit and found an angle, but my cock wasn’t quite hard yet.

“I’m not there yet, hun.”

She turned, and nuzzled my nose, “OK,” she said. She kissed my lightly, then started to peck at me with her tongue. We french kissed, and she ran her hands through my hair. I don’t know how, but I managed enough of an erection to fulfill her wishes. I put the tip of my cock in her.

“Ahhhh” she breathed as I entered, “….oh, look he saw me. I bet he knows it’s me.”

Her breathing was deep and hurried.

“He doesn’t know you’re inside me. We could go out there and talk to him, and he wouldn’t know you just fucked me. Or that I looked at him with you in me.”

I put my nose on her shoulder. Her ass felt incredible.

“I know it’s weird, but that’s hot to me.”

She jumped down and grabbed my wife’s robe off the door. She jubilantly scrubbed her hair with a towel, then ran her fingers through it. I found a towel tossed at my chest, and my daughter smiled.

“I had fun today,” she said.

“Yea,” I said, “Yea me too.”

We sort of let the light mood hang in the air.

“Back to normal now, for awhile,” she said, “I’ll let you know when we can do this again. Let’s keep it special.”

I was glad to hear she wanted a break. I didn’t know if my body could take much more. “Hey Sarah…nobody knows about this. Nobody. Right?”

Her face glazed over with calm, “Never.”

And with that, she walked out of the room

Over the next month, everything was normal. Not so much as a knowing glance was shared between us. I thought it would be hard having my own personal sexual fantasy walking around the house, and I was still scared to death she would snap out of her accepting state and tell the world what a piece of crap I was.

She came home one Saturday afternoon with some kind of flu. I took a bit of a nursing role towards her, making her soup and visiting her in bed. It was the only overtly strange thing I had done since the time in the sauna. It was always her mother that took the role of caretaker when one of our kids was sick. And she took notice.

“You’re being awfully doting over Sarah,” she mentioned as I washed the dishes.

I shrugged, hoping it wasn’t too apparent, “She’s sick. What do you want me to do?”

I caught some kind of knowing stare from her, and it sent chills down my spine. I just kept my head in the sink. The crazy thing about a long marriage is how telepathic it can seem at times.

Two more weeks passed, and still nothing. I was watching football in our upstairs media room one Saturday when Sarah came into the room and shut the door. She laid her head on my lap and snuggled up next to me.

Believe it or not, I didn’t think anything of it. Until she started to stroke her hand over the top of my sweatpants.

“Your mom is home,” I warned.

“We’ll hear her come upstairs. I miss it.”

After stroking me for awhile, I was hard enough to strain against my sweatpants. She peeled my pants down and laid her head on my crotch, my cock up against her forehead.

“Mmmmm, I missed it,” she said as she buried her nose in my pubes. We laid like this for at least twenty minutes. I put my hand on the exposed skin above her waist and stroked it softly. There was something very tender and normal about it. It wasn’t anything terribly different from a typical girl snuggling up against her dad, except, well, the cock worship.

She sat up, covering me back up, then looked to the door. She pulled up her t-shirt over her breasts, and I drank her in like a dying man in the desert.

“Get a taste real quick. I think mom is going to visiting grandma, she’ll stay the night. Billy is staying at someones house. So….”

She leaned forward and I put my hand at the small of her back. I put her nipple in her mouth and she quietly cooed as I bit and licked it softly. She pulled away.

“I’ll be here when they’re gone. Put on some nice clothes.”

Six o’clock couldn’t come soon enough. My wife closed the door and the house was quiet. After I threw on a shirt and tie, I ate a quick sandwich in the kitchen, slowly, feeling the anticipation. She came downstairs, dressed to the hilt in a tight strapless black dress, her face fully made up, carrying a small bag.

“We’re going somewhere,” was all she said.

“Where? Dinner? I just ate…”

“Just get in the car and I’ll tell you.”

When we climbed into the car, she plugged an address into the GPS. It was an hour and a half away from the house.

“What…? Where are we going Sarah?”

She gave me a sly smile, “You’ll see.”

During the drive, she laid an egg on me.

“I’m moving to New York after graduation,” she said, “I know I can get a modelling contract through someone my photographers knows. And I’ll take classes at community college there, maybe try to get into CUNY.”

I was quiet in response.

“Mom is going to freak out.”

I sighed. I guess I thought the sex was all altruistic. I should have known, not that I cared.

“I’ll take care of it.”

She waited a moment, then rubbed my thigh in thanks.

We approached a gravel drive, which led me to a huge victorian-style mansion. Lines of cars were outside of it, and I found it hard to park.

“I heard about this place from another model. Don’t get mad, but I came here last month.”

I stopped the car. “What is this place?”

She shrugged, “A place where we can be free. I thought you’d like it. When we’re inside, I need you to look after me. I had a close call last time. I think it’s hard for someone who looks like me to be here.”

I was mortified, but I didn’t protest. I wanted to play it cool. After all, she was in control. I glanced in one of the grand front windows to see a party filled with mostly middle aged adults. They were drinking, eating appetizers…and a few had their shirts off or their dicks out. And a few more were copulating in the corner. This was a sex party.

“Sarah!” I shout-whispered. I walked over to her eagerly, “You cannot go in there.”

She rolled her eyes, “I already have, and we’re going to, because in case you forgot, you’re a rapist, and therefore, my big-dicked Ken doll.”

I steamed a little, but I had no authority to protest. Still, I didn’t want to see her harmed, “Well what the hell happened last time?”

She sat back on her foot and thought, “I made out with a guy who claimed he was married, and he wasn’t, and he got kind of pushy. Luckily another guy came in the room and helped me.”

I scoffed, “Sarah, a woman like you can’t walk around a place like this. These people will eat you alive. There’s diseases…”

“It’s a point-five percent chance of getting HIV through vaginal intercourse, if they aren’t on the herpes pill you can see it from a mile away, and you paid for me to get a damn HPV vaccine. Everything else is a pill I can pop, so just fuck off with the overprotective stuff. Rapist.”

“What about me? You can’t come to me?”

She rolled her eyes, “Who would want to keep fucking their own dad to get off? I mean, seriously? Did you think we were monogamous or something?”

It hurt, but I couldn’t fight back. “But….these are just a bunch of middle aged people in shitty marriages that want to use you, they-”

Her look said everything. I stopped myself mid-sentence to do a little introspection. This is why trying to have authority over her would always fail. Rather than make a scene, give her a reason to turn me in, or leave her to the buzzards circling inside, I decided it would be better if I went along with her plan.

“Fine. But make sure I know where you are.”

She reached into her purse, “Here. We get in free if we’re married since I’m so young,” she said as she handed me a wedding band. Placing them on our fingers was a strange ritual. When she took my hand as we walked to the door, it was surreal. For all of ten seconds, I was fake-married to a woman like her, and despite the obvious absurdity, it felt a little exciting.

We made our way to the door. I think I might have been more nervous than she was. It was one thing to think about going to a swingers party when you are newlyweds with nothing to lose. Being blackmailed into it at forty five only an hour or so outside of the community where you live and work, well, you could be committing suicide in every way except the one that really counts.

I will hand it to Sarah, the place was far cleaner and formal than I would have ever imagined. We were greeted at the door by a stately looking gentleman in the suit, who asked our names and if we’d made a reservation. Sarah introduced us as “Cindy and Mike” and we were crossed off a list and let inside to the foyer. Sarah took me aside, placing her hands on my shoulders.

“Listen, don’t hover over me but stay kinda close. Have a drink, have fun. For the most part this place is awesome and the people are nice. And if you do or say anything I don’t tell you to do, this is all over. OK?”

Here I thought I’d have a nice candle-lit taboo love making session at home. Now I was an enslaved bodyguard at a high-class swingers party. Any way I played the angles, there was nothing I could do to escape the situation. C’est la vie.

We went through a small sitting area to a grand ballroom. It was quite a sight to see. Groups of otherwise ordinary looking couples could be seen chatting like it was a social mixer. A lot of tall, groomed young men with nice builds and tattoos sauntered about, looking to pick off a frisky married woman (or man). And a few who decided escaping to a bedroom was too private were clawing at each other on a sofa or in a shadowy corner.

I walked to one corner of the main ballroom while she went to another. The way the eyes followed her as she walked across the room can’t be aptly described. Absolutely every single male in the room stopped what they were doing, whether it was lightly chatting or rutting away. With the way she looked, there was no way anyone in the room knew she was still in high school. She was prey and every man in that room was rabid to taste her. For a minx who loved to be in control and feel bathed in attention, it was heaven.

I asked for a scotch from the bartender and was greeted by a married couple. Neither looked anything less than drab, which I always assumed was the norm for these types of places. The wife had her breasts out on full display. It wasn’t a terrible rack, but it was sagging with age and it didn’t perk my interests. I guess I’d been more than a little spoiled with my recent sexual insanity.

“Hi, we’re Bob and Sally. Seems we haven’t seen you here before?”

I remembered my stage name. “Mike,” I replied, shaking their hands.

“Gosh, we never knew about this place until six months ago. It sure is a step up from Vegas and other people’s homes, wouldn’t you say?”

I nodded, “Well, uh, this is my first time. Our first time, actually.”

The wife gave a look of surprise, “Well hey, how about that? We like to give newcomers a free time on my girls. This one is Bertha, and this one is Bonnie.”

I gave a sly smile in response to her joke, but she wasn’t kidding.

“Come on now,” she said putting her hand on the back of her head, “Ya’ll know your limits and a little suck off a tittie can’t be out of bounds.”

I looked behind me and couldn’t find Sarah. I felt I had to oblige, so I leaned down and gave the woman’s nipple a light peck.

She scoffed at me, “No honey, that’s not how this group does things.”

She leaned in and started to kiss me. I wasn’t terribly attracted to her, but it was my first time truly cheating on my wife with another woman that wasn’t….well….my own daughter. I opened up a bit and left myself enjoy it. When her tongue escaped mine, I leaned down and gave her the old Harvard-try at a nipple taste. She rubbed the back of my head and was smiling when I was done.

“See? Now we’re a little connected, a little closer. It’s a beautiful thing.”

I looked over at the husband, who didn’t look to be much more than a doormat. He was balding, out of shape, and had this little sunken face that matched his short height and frame. I felt a bit repulsed realizing how ho-hum it was to sexuall touch another woman my age. I realized the swinging fantasies I’d held onto all these years were a little…embellished. It was a bummer.

“Say, did you walk in with the young blonde? She sure is striking…”

I nodded, “That’s my wife. Cindy.”

He nodded, “She got my juices flowing as you can see,” he smiled, showing some yellow teeth as he pointed to the bulge showing in his pants. The thought of him so much as looking at my daughter made me want to punch him into oblivion.

“And she’s off to an early start…” the wife said, “She sure isn’t shy…”

I turned around and noticed the crowd of people formed in the corner. The rest of the ballroom was sparse at best, probably occupied by couples with a wife who refused to let their men gawk at Sarah out of jealousy. I made my way to the pack.

She was in the middle of a crowd of men, mostly surrounding herself with the younger set, the ones with the tattoos, Ed Hardy shirts and chiseled bodies. The real scummy single guys who don’t know another way to get laid than to pay an entry fee. Her arms were laid back across the shoulders of one, while another was in front, more men along her sides. A hand would reach out and grab her tit from her dress, anonymously, copping a feel. The guy behind her held her around tummy, possessing her. She wore a bright smile, making everything seem so playful.

“I already had two shots, but I’ll have another,” she said, accepting a drink. An eighteen year old with three shots of hard liquor wasn’t someone with solid judgement.

“You look nice,” she said to an older man, not much better looking than the man whose wife I had just kissed, “Let me taste you.”

He leaned in and kissed her, swapping tongues. The man had no right to be within fifty feet of a woman like her, and he knew it. The whole horde of them thought they’d found the honeypot.

“Mmmm, you taste nice,” she purred, then laughing seductively. He tucked a finger into her dress and pulled it down. Her tit slowly slid out, and she made wide eyes coupled with giggle, as if it was a happy accident.

This brought on the horde like nothing else. The dicks started coming out. Grown men were hypnotized and jerking themselves to the scene while their dejected wives and girlfriends could only look on, feeling every crack in their self esteem shatter. I don’t know if my daughter knew what she was doing. At any moment the scene could collapse into anarchy. Maybe it needed to happen to her. Sometimes the only way to teach a lesson to the naive is to let them get slapped in the face.

Hands, a web of hands, reaching from the circle, gropped her exposed tit. She leaned back and kissed another stranger, moaning, making eye contact, smiling and putting them under her spell.

Connections, as the older woman had called it. Feelings.

One of the younger men took her nipple in her mouth, driving off the competition. His hand went up her stocking-clad legs and touched her womanhood. Another strange hand came out of the group as the circle around her got smaller, pulling down her dress, leaving the other breast free. She closed her eyes and submitted as another man lifted her by her ass. The hands kept coming, groping. She laid back into a man’s arms and another man’s cock was jerking relentlessly, ready to spray its seed on her dress. As she asked to taste another stranger, the cock exploded, putting a line of cum along the material. She barely flinched. She sunk further back, and if the man behind her let go, she would fall to the floor. The horde would just descend on her, and it would get ugly. At just the right moment, when she approached the brink, she motioned and let them have her stand up.

“Let’s go to a bedroom….” she said, scanning the crowd. She eyed a black man who was perhaps in his 50s, “You,” she said pointing. She turned to the man behind her, “You,” she said. In a move that made no sense to me, she pointed to a rather portly old bald man with a zit-covered back. He looked like the type that lived in a van parked a little too close to grade school, “And you. And everybody else come with if you want!”

With her tits bouncing about she made her way through the crowd, accepting casual gropes and smiling as the men around her masturbated.

“This is bullshit,” I heard a disgruntled wife say, “What is she even doing here?”

Her pudgy friend chimed in, covering her own sunken tits, “Who does she think she is?” she chimed in.

I had to hurry. If I was supposed to “stay close,” I had to at least be in the room. When I found the horde inside a large master-sized suite, I saw her standing on a chair.

“There he is!” she said, pointing at me, “Let my husband through.”

It wasn’t only men in the room. Some of the more open-minded and enterprising women were also around. Or perhaps they wanted to keep an eye on their husband so their jealousies could reach fever pitch.

I pushed my way through the crowd to her. She put her hand on my shoulder and pulled me on to a wine-shelf, maybe a foot wide, just large enough to perch on. She stood between my legs, sat on my lap, and looked over the men she’d chosen. They all had their pants down, their eyes darting between her eyes and her breasts…the same way I had at the dinner table weeks earlier.

“You,” she pointed to the old black man. He was gray and balding, a navy tattoo on his arm. A solid gut was in front of him, but he looked like a sane adult at least. No evidence of drugs, or aggression…yet.

“You’re bigger than my husband. My husband Mike,” she said, laughing drunkenly, “Come here, let me tell you a story.”

He smiled and said, “Ok, ok,” like a nervous flirt on a first date.

She laid back across my chest, inviting the man to suck on her chest. He did so, and the top of his head was inches from my face. Watching another man do this to her up close was an emotional firestorm for me. I’d have given anything to smack the hell out of him, either as a father or a lover, or both. I was trapped. I started to see where her game was going…or so I thought.

His head rose up and they kissed. Not like feral lovers, but like two old souls deeply in love. She really knew how to bring the artificial girlfriend experience. The man was totally at her mercy.

“You can put it in,” she whispered to him, “Rip off my panties.”

She sat back, and he instead took them off slowly, to her chagrin. He stepped into her circle, and slid it inside, gently.

“Aahhhh,” she cooed, quenching her thirst. There were a few catcalls and claps from the crowd. The younger, tattooed man reached in and licked her tit. She rubbed the back of his head, then gently nudged him so he withdrew. She wanted a one-on-one show.

“Go slow and steady, I want it to last. You older guys are good at that.”

The man obliged and slowly pistoned his way in and out of her. I was holding my own daughter as she lay exposed, a stranger’s cock inside her.

“Are you on the pill, baby?” he asked.

“Nnnooo,” she said breathily, “Do you care?”

The foolish smile on his face was all she needed in reply.

“Mmmmm, are you married?” she asked, her eyes becoming glossy as she put her hands on his hips.

“Yea,” he grunted.

“Is she here? Does she know you’re here?”

“No, uh uh,” he replied.

She sort of grinded into him and opened her mouth wide. A few cat calls came from the crowd.

“Do you have kids?”

The man would tell her his taxes line by line if she wanted. That was the only way she was getting away with this.

“Yea, three.”

She purred, “So you can make a baby.”

They laid into each other for a moment, and she rubbed his chest.

“I’m not married,” she said.

“Oh yea?” the man said, glancing at me, “Then who’s that?”

She smiled waiting for her reveal, “That’s my dad. We have sex,” she closed eyes, the booze was fueling her, “Gooood sex. I want to tell you a story.”

I was mortified. I looked around the room as word spread of what she said. The chattering crowd slowly got silent.

“What? Her dad?” a woman said, “No…that’s…no way.”

“I was dancing naked one time,” my daughter muttered as the pleasure grew, “And he snuck up on me and put his cock in me. He didn’t ask first. He raped me.”

A collection of groans and voiced disgust came across the room. Some of the women, probably mothers, shot daggers at me. “What the fuck…” someone near me muttered. Another onlooker whispered that they could see the resemblance in our faces.

She turned her head back, eyes wide, looking at me “But I loved it. Ooohhh, he was good.”

The man bottomed out in her, and as she made eye contact with me, her face contorted and she squeaked a bit. I was feeling betrayed.

“But what he didn’t know,” she said to a captivated room as she stared into my eyes, “That he made his baby in me. And I was pregnant, with my dad’s baby.”

I heard a gasp or two. One woman blurted “Ohhhh, oh god…”

I felt dead inside.

“I took my abortion pill, like a good little girl. Because having your father’s baby is wrong. And he nursed me back to health the day I spent aborting our child, isn’t that sweet?” she said, smiling at her lover. He didn’t care at all about the words coming out of her mouth. He was stoned on lust.

“Fed me soup, made sure I took my medicine. He was a good dad.”

I found the courage to look up. The women were really ready to kill me now. Sarah took me by the back of the head and kissed me. I grabbed her breast in some misplaced attempt to show my regret and compassion for her. A woman groaned in disgust, while a man who was frantically jerking himself next to me muttered, “Hell yea…”

Her lover bottomed out in her again. She withdrew from me and cried out. She turned to him as her body humped against mine. I felt a sense of loss as she became enthralled with him again.

“Would you rape your daughter?” she asked her lover.

“Uhhngh, naw.”

She smiled, “Would you make a baby in your daughter?”

He shook his head while his eyes were closed. I knew the tight, warm heaven he had wrapped around his cock.

“Mmmm, you’re a good man. You’re a good dad. I only want a baby from good dads.”

She tilted her head back to me as my chest absorbed the stranger who was humping her with his unprotected cock.

“Put your hand on my tummy. And cup his balls,” she whispered.

“What?” I said…I’d never touched another man in that way before.

“Do it. Or I tell them your name. Our address.”

She wanted to humiliate me. She wanted me to feel as another man’s sperm pumped into her. I leaned out of my perch, reached over, and grabbed him. Though I didn’t make eye contact, he didn’t even flinch. He took her lead and started to pump as hard as he could. I could literally feel his balls tense as he quickened.

“My dad says you can make his grandchild. Unnngghh….he’s giving us…. his blessing.”

The man picked up his pace and I felt the sperm shoot through his scrotum. He was in her to the hilt. I felt like a total failure…a dunce. The ultimate loser.

The crowd was in awe of the proceedings. I saw a man across from me shoot his load all over his clenched hand. After taking a breather, the black man leaned in and kissed her neck. “That was crazy, baby.”

She nuzzled him, “Do you want me to keep it?”

He showed a white-toothed grin while he reached down and gently ran his knuckles over her tight stomach, “Yea, anything for you.”

She kissed his lips one more time as he pulled his cock out of her. I finally let go, being domesticated to the point of absurdity. Some of his gizz mixed with his juices ran out of her as soon as he withdrew and it pooled onto my hand. She didn’t even know his name.

She got up and went to the bed, parting the way through the masturbating men like Moses at the red sea. She sat on the edge of the bed and rubbed the sides of two of her admirers.

“Finish on me guys, don’t be shy.”.

The voices came like a chorus.

“Could you do your dad? Please?”

“Do your dad for us, I’ll do anything, please.”

“Come on man, do it, do her, I wanna see this shit.”

“They do look like each other, in the face. Look at their noses.”

“You’re a sick person,” a woman criped, “What’s your real name? You should be in prison if all that is true, you’re sick.”

Sarah laid back and held a finger to her lips to silence the crowd. “Hmmmm…fuck my daddy…I guess that’s up to him. How about one of you makes me feel good while my dad thinks…? You!”

She pointed at the truly despicable looking man from before, the portly one that looked like a genetic afterthought. Standing next to him, he smelled like fish mixed with Ben Gay.

“Want to put it in? When my dad is ready we’ll stop.”

He sauntered over and hunched over her. I don’t pretend to understand a thing she did that night, but letting this man anywhere near her womb was an abomination against God. Was it compassion? Did she want to be the highlight of his life? Was it a thrill for her to stoop this low?

With the tact of a walrus, he plunged into her. He wheezed a bit as he humped back and forth. Once he got going, it got weird.

“I love you, I love you,” he muttered, “I love you so much.”

She turned her head to me, “Daddy please….he won’t last long…”

A man shot his cum on her head while another reached and rather aggressively tugged at her nipple with two fingers. She winced in pain.

“You gotta do it dude,” one of the men next to me said, “I’ll pay five hundred bucks, straight cash. Once in a lifetime.”

Two more cumshots landed on her face and neck. She was under assault. Through the bodies, I could barely see her. The same man who twerked her nipple took it into his mouth, biting hard. She cried out, and he then grinded her fleshy breast in his hand like bakers dough. The hulking, disgusting man was pounding into her. She pleaded, “Please…what if it’s his baby? What if he’s diseased?”

I didn’t want this man to cum in my daughter. I wasn’t fond of the first guy, but he was at least a semblance of a human. I couldn’t even believe this sorry excuse was inside her. And the abuse from the other men was building. Another shot of cum landed on her strung itself across her puffy lips. When the man was finished, another tried to force himself into her mouth. She moved her head back and forth, resisting him.

“Ugh, I’m gonna cum,” her new lover exclaimed, “Tell me your name, please, please.”

Her eyes were desperate, the work of an actress taking manipulation to the extreme mixed with at least some genuine terror. “Please save me daddy…”

“Fine,” I said, “I’ll do it.”

Shouts of hurrah bounded across the room. One of the men near the walrus motioned for him to get up.

“Come on buddy, you had your shot…”

“No! No!” he shouted as he tried to resist. Like a true beta male, he relented with a bit more pressure from the crowd. I was relieved. With a quick flick my pants were undone, and I disrobed. A few hundred dollar bills were thrown at the bed. The depravity of these people….well, I guess I was at least as depraved. The level I had sunk to in such a short time…

“Dang, nice dick dude,” was a conciliatory comment.

The bed was cleared, and I made my way on top of her. With the abuse it had seen, her pussy was cum-matted filth. I had to jerk myself to get half hard. I wasn’t turned on, at all.

Casually rubbing himself to orgasm over her chest, a middle-aged man turned to me. “Don’t you remember her as a little girl?”

I jerked myself, feeling like I was at the DMV. “Yes, yes I do.”

He gave me a judgemental head shake, “And you still went through with it? Urrghh…”

His gism flew and laced its way across her chest.

Another comment from the peanut gallery came. “I don’t blame him dude. It’s obvious she’s a fucking nymph. I don’t like when people judge me for my kink dude…”

Two more loads landed on her face and chest. I was ready enough. I slid forward and put myself inside her. Cold cum from her last lover slicked the way.

The crowd just watched us as I mechanically made love to her. She wrapped her legs around me. Everyone was silent while we escalated. I hated to admit it, but to race to the fastest cum in my life, I didn’t need much. Even covered in other men’s cum, her breasts were the object of my desire. Her eyes were still compassionate but sensual, seemingly more so since she looked at me through a glaze of drunken lust and suffering from wanton abuse from her admirers. Her nipples was red and sore from the attention they had endured. I ran my hands up and down her perfect legs, finally, and brought one hand down to lift her by her ass.

I ignored the ranting chatter in the room. She started to moan and writhe. My girth was still a pleasure presser for her, but I wasn’t in the game for endurance. I looked my baby in the eyes and came. Anything to expedite leaving the place.

When it was obvious we finished, I rose up. My cum leaked a bit from her pussy.

“Oh my God….and you’re not on any protection, honey?”

She smiled, “No.”

Gasps of shock reverberated across the crowd.

“Worth every cent,” said the man who decided to pay for the privilege.

A few guys came up and thought they would continue the action. Another rope of cum found its way across the length of her dress.

“Nah, come on guys, she’s done,” said one of the apparent good samaritans of the incest swingers club.

Nipple-boy came up and mauled her breast again, this time gording one in his hand while he bit the other.

“Come on! What the hell man…” another patron exclaimed, pulling him by the shoulder. The room started to empty. They knew she was all used up. I picked her up in my arms and set her standing at the side of the bed, grabbing my pants as she shifted her hair.

“Don’t forget the money,” she muttered, in a daze.

I scoffed. She scooped up the bills and shoved them in her dress.

Soon we were walking towards the exit.

“I will find your name and address, mister. You’re sick.”

I moved past the growing line around us, holding Sarah’s hand as I did. She had failed to pull up her dress, and random hands found their way to her exposed, cum-covered breasts.

“Thanks dude. Thanks again, once in a lifetime.”

“Are you coming back?”

“I wish I was you. Wish my daughter looked that way…”

The doorman shut the door behind us. We walked, silently, to the car. I drove away as fast as I could, making sure no concerned, jealous wives took down my license plate.

We were quiet for the first ten minutes of the drive home. I finally decided I’d taken enough slavery for a day. I went back to having a mind for the first time in hours.

“Did you really have to get an abortion?”

She sighed, sounding half-asleep, “I wasn’t on the pill our first time. Didn’t think I needed to get the morning after. You just take a pill and the whole thing sucks, but I’ve done it before.”

I racked my brain trying to think of another time she had the “flu.”

“I know you were scared,” she said, “But that was fucking awesome.”

I scoffed at her, “Awesome? What? What if you’re pregnant again.”

She laughed a little, “I’m on the pill dad. I just like to see men…not care. They’re so…focused, on getting their cum in you. They’re so awful. I love it.”

This, at the least, made me relieved. “Look, you have to value babies. If all else in life, you have value your body, and your children. Otherwise everything falls apart.”

She shook her head, “You don’t even think of yourself before you say those things, do you?”

Again, I was caught. I didn’t deserve her graciousness. Another few minutes passed.

“And the thing with the black guy…what the fuck was that? That was just awful to do to me.”

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry. I don’t go in there with a plan or anything. I just say whatever feels hot at the time. I just…I dunno, you know how daughters get dowries from their dad’s….I dunno. I thought it was fucking hot.”

“Well…if it matters, it hurt me to see that. And do that. I felt pathetic.”

She was quiet. It hadn’t occurred to her that the reckless kink had consequences.

“Hey, I’m really sorry. I didn’t think about that. I was just rolling with it.”

We rode for a few more minutes.

“You’re so lucky they didn’t do anything to you. It could have been a lot worse than last time.”

“Nobody got frisky with me last time. I made that up…I wanted to make sure you’d come with me. They were actually obedient as hell. I was way less afraid this time.”

Another few minutes. Her breasts were still exposed. Hundred dollar bills were sticking out from the tight material. For whatever reason, she smelled like cigarettes, mixed with stale cum. When we passed a streetlight, I could see the dried sheen of the dried gizz across her chest.

“I’m not going back there,” she said. “I wanted to try it, to do it while I’m young. But I’d have to be really, really horny to ever go back. I think I’m done with this shit.”

More road swept underneath us.

“Then why do it? You’re so much better than that.”

She sighed.

“To feel alive.”

Thinking back to how much I missed my depraved youth, I let her excuse stand. The generation gap…new ways to feel edgy and above the fray. Did I know her logic train? Why she did what she did? No. But it was a mix of power, lust, control, revenge, and rebellion. I left it alone.

She nodded off and fell asleep.

I was in my room, basking after a long, long shower. I expected her to go to sleep, but she came to the doorway. I turned on the nightstand lamp to see her standing with wet hair wearing only a towel along her bottom half.

“Plenty more hours ’till anyone gets home.”

I nodded, “Yup.”

She walked into the room, “See?” she said twirling around, “All that awfulness washed right off. Disease free, baby free. It’s my favorite part. I can go to the gutter and come out shining.”

I didn’t know if the disease part was her being naive, but she was right about the incredible change. She went from a topless, cum-covered slut back to a buoyant, radiant teen in about ten minutes. It seemed unfair. All those men trying to defile her…and they failed.

“I think I’m going to spend the money on a purse. But I don’t know if I want to look at it…I’ll think of that guy every time. Maybe I’ll save it.”

“Sarah I….” I said, thinking if I was really done with our insane adventure.

“We’re done,” she said, “I would prefer to keep going….but I don’t think we can. I really don’t want to hurt mom and Billy.”

“I know, but….you were pregnant. I put you through that. It’s a fantasy of mine, but jesus…I’m gonna feel guilty about that the rest of my life.”

She swayed a little, “Mmmm, it’s an older people thing. Sure we’ve got Christian girls at school that are up in arms, but you can just manage that stuff. It’s a part of life.”

More generational friction. I felt horrible thinking of putting a fetus inside her. It felt like a person to me. Then again, so many people nowadays think it’s nothing…something’s been lost in our culture. Says me, the guy fucked his own…you get the picture.

“I uhm, want to have one more dance with you. I have a new routine.”

I propped myself up on my arms, “In your mom’s bed?”

She shrugged, “I’ve always wanted to lay with you afterwards. And I want to….feel like I’m with you. Like she does.”.

Strolling, she walked to the iPod alarm clock and plugged it in. I noticed she also had a bottle of baby oil with her.

“It’s ‘We Can’t Stop’ by Miley Cyrus. You’ll like it.”

The towel she wore fell to the floor and she flipped on and dimmed the ceiling lights while I turned off the nightstand lamp. The music began, and she started things off with a slow ass shake, her head tilted toward me, but looking away.

I’ll leave the rest up to your imagination. Needless to say, it was glorious. She started out on top of me, rocking her hips in time with the music. The changing beats meant plenty of contorting tummy, her tits hanging as mounds above me. At one point I stood up and held her, still inside her, and we sat faces nearly touching, starting. When it played a third time, I pistoned in and out of her, making her pert breasts shake in time with the heavy bass. She came at least twice in panting, yet fierce orgasms. We fell asleep, spooning.

I woke up to the early morning sun and chirping birds. We had maybe another two hours before my son might return. When I turned, she awoke too, stretching her arms above her head as she awoke.

“Good morning,” she said. I cupped her cheek in my hand.

“So,” I said, “This is the end.”

She snuggled into me, “It has to be this way. But it was a crazy ride.”

I ran a finger around her breast, “No sneaking, no flirting. Back to normal, 100%. It’s the only way to make sure nobody gets hurt.”

She nodded, “I know.”

Her hand found my face.

“I’ll miss you.”

I jostled a bit in the bed, “This version of me.”

She sighed. “I waited so long after the second time, because I had feelings.”

I nodded, “I did too.”

She sighed, “Kink has to end there. It’s a hangover. It’ll be months before I’m not missing you.”

I played with the skin just below her navel.

“Sarah I….I know this started because of my rapey, creepy episode. But…I…when you knew you were pregnant…”

I looked at her and continued.

“Did you ever think to…take another route? I would have helped you.”

Her mouth bunched up and she swallowed, “Don’t you do that. Don’t you do that to me,” her eyes welled up the slightest bit, and my heart sank, “Don’t you do that.”

“I’m sorry baby,” I said, kissing her forehead. We laid in the quiet for awhile, breathing together.

“I need it one more time,” she muttered, “Just quiet, the two of us.”

She climbed up and mounted me. I held the sides of her tummy as she swayed. I could see the tops of her breasts like a silhouette in the dark. I pressed to the hilt, like nature told me to, when we finished. She left, and I began to change the sheets.

It was normalcy. And I felt like I could exhale.

The nine months before she went to college were tough times. Not in an insurmountable suffering sort of way, but in a slow, aching way. I never saw her in any state of undress again, not even in a swimsuit. Our conversations were safe speech with her mother always present. When we did talk alone, she sometimes talked about more emotional topics with me, but nothing sexual. I was so relieved to see her recovering. There were no more “flu” days.

After many discussions and arguments, her mother let her go to New York. I can summarize that six years later, she was on top of the world. A SUNY degree in economics was her personal achievement, but the modelling really took off. And not in a “nice career” way. More like a “changed the families financial dynamic forever” sort of way. Her total haul over the six years was in excess of four million dollars. I didn’t know if a few well-timed blowjobs helped get her to the top of the heap. Needless to say, our mortgage was her Christmas present one year. I couldn’t be more proud or expected any less, even if she went the sideways route to get there. She was one in a billion, maybe she never had to take it to the basement with a horny talent director after all.

The internet pages started cropping up. Whole forums dedicated to horny men posting pictures of her and talking about all the horrible things they’d do to her body. Yes, there were nudes. And I took a peak, despite swearing to her mother they were blasphemy and immoral. Seeing her shine that light on the world, the one that turned me into a perverted monster…I don’t know how other men coped.

The worst was when that damn song would come on the radio or when I heard it inside a department store. Sometimes, when my psyche failed me and I had to cleanse myself of suppressed guilt, I’d listen to it over and over. The beat would drop, and I’d fish into my memory to find the exact second I made a baby inside my daughter. It was locked in time, forever, in that one song. The hurt would fill me, I would lust for her, I would hate myself, I would hate her for not letting me inside her again. I’d hit the rewind button. Rinse repeat, like self-imposed torture. Once, fetching some paper towels from a gas station, it came on. I stood there, staring into space. The cashier came from behind the counter to ask me if I was alright. I could never shake it from my subconscious.

I had visited her alone before, but the time I flew out to her Manhattan apartment in the spring was different. I wanted to have her see some family before Easter, even if it meant we could only spend a day together.

As we walked to a restaurant the evening I arrived, we passed by a mom holding the hand of a little boy, who was perhaps five or six years old. I noticed Sarah turn her head for a second look, and I followed. When I looked to her face, I knew what she was thinking. She wasn’t the tough vixen she tried to be. Even the most dominant people are human.

At her mother’s request, I brought up her love life over dinner. I’d completely avoided any such talk for fear of veering the discussion back to our past. Her opinions on relationships and men were the same as they were six years before.

“I don’t want a husband, boyfriend, anything,” she said, her golden locks flailing as she shook her head, “Never. Kids, yes, dealing with a man, no. I guess I’m too selfish.”

And so it was. She truly was independent in that regard. But then again, time can change anything.

Back at her apartment, she washed dishes, and we talked as I sipped some coffee. I teased her about how ridiculous it was that someone of her means washed her own dishes. She was wearing a short skirt with nylons, and when she leaned over to reach something, I was a little taken aback at how revealing the outfit was.

“I only wear designer clothes now,” she said, almost reading my mind. She faced away from me as I leaned against her countertop. “This whole outfit, including the underwear, costs about $3,000.”

I found it to be a random comment…but I complimented her on how “nice” the ensemble looked.

“Oh, and this new contract I signed with an agency…it’s got a pregnancy clause. They have to pay me even if I decide to have a baby. I mean, I’ll have to get back to a certain weight within a certain time, but it’s something not a lot of models get. Not like I’ll ever find a guy who can get the job done.”

Two random comments in a row…somethings amiss. I put my coffee down. My eyes dropped and ran up and down her legs.

“And I read this crazy thing on the internet…apparently the body stops growing once you hit twenty-four. Like, it doesn’t generate new cells. So…I’ll never look this good again. I don’t know what it means about my earnings, but I know this is the last time I’ll ever look this way. It’s almost like it’s the last time I have the chance to, you know, I dunno…be at my peak, my absolute physical peak.”

I was as quiet as a church mouse as I walked towards her. I unzipped my fly like a secret agent, and my cock was free.

“Oh darnit, the damn drain…this thing…” she said, leaning over to expose her thong-covered ass to me.

It didn’t matter how much the material cost. I ripped them off in a half second and plunged myself in.

Everybody get up!

Hey hey hey

It was feral, like two wolves clawing each other in the woods. I tore her blouse into shreds. I came in less than a minute, but the demons kept me moving.

I twirled her around and tore off the rest of her clothes. Six years of development had turned her breasts into pure art while her proportions were almost the exact same. Her face was even more adult, even more radiant, the peak of human beauty. I sucked, we kissed, I fingered, she moaned, I was hard again and ready to make another deposit. Another two minutes, breathless, I came.

We sat in each others arms, her outfit totally destroyed.

“I’ve wanted to make up for what you lost…what I did to you….”

She sighed in my ear and kissed my head, “You don’t need to say it.”

I removed my face from her neck and brushed the hair back from her eyes.

“We got one night to get the job done,” I said, “Then really, truly, never again.”

She smiled, “Never. But I want this.”

“You know what I want.”

“Both the songs are still on my iPod. An my new stereo is a bad motherfucker.”

Visions of her bouncing, mature, fully adult breasts…one last show.

Her moral compass was wayward, she was a nymphomaniac, nine out of ten psychiatrists would call her nuts, and she would never know what love with another man was like out of her own stubborn nihilistic self-absorption…but she was my daughter. And I loved her, as a daughter. And I knew her to be the ultimate lay, the best lover I had ever taken in my life.

She looked down at our soiled crotches. Two loads of my cum were seeping around the edges of my cock. Her pussy felt like velvet.

“Quite the little family we have here…”

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