My daughter insisted she didn't lead boys on, they just followed. There was some truth to this. She never promised more than she delivered. Emmy was clear: she had no interest in a boyfriend and stopped at kissing. No guy at her high school could say he'd gotten any farther then a quick, unwelcome, squeeze of a boob.
Yet, as I watched Emmy in our pool with Robbie Jones, I felt sorry for the kid. My daughter's bikini was minute. The top, two tiny triangles decorated with the American flag, barely covered her nipples. The bottom, another tiny triangle, was held snug - there could be no doubt - to a cleanly shaved vagina. It snaked around to her backside in a narrow band, ending as a thong.
Five feet, 7 inches tall, 115 pounds, and D cups. Slim waist; relatively wide hips; plump, full, sultry lips. In later years people would wonder whether those oversized breasts or thick lips were real, but the kids in her high school, like Robbie, knew they were. They'd known Emmy since childhood. I felt sorry for the boy. He'd be frustrated tonight.
Emmy had invited Robbie over for a swim and lunch before they worked on a school project. I stepped on to the deck with two bottles of water and the Thai chicken salad I'd prepared. Robbie and Emmy were standing waist deep in the water. She was laughing and splashing water on him.
"Lunch is ready."
"Thanks Daddy,"
"Thanks Mr. Jaworski."
I put the food on the table and tossed each of them a towel.
"I'll be in my office. See you kids later."
I spent the afternoon working on my business. Whenever I poked my head out for a glass of water or to hit the head, Robbie and Emmy were at the kitchen table working on their presentation about the Thirty Years War. Robbie would have done the entire thing if Emmy'd asked - she had only a light wrap on over that bikini - but she was not only doing her part, she was pushing Robbie to do a first rate job.
It was late afternoon when Emmy knocked on my door and stuck her head in my office. They'd finished. They were going to check some stuff out on the computer before Robbie headed home. The family computer was in the next room. Over the next hour Robbie wheedled a few kisses from Emmy. When she walked him to the door he planted a final wet smacker on her face and said goodbye.
I heard her coming down the hall. She opened my office door, walked towards me, smiled, fixed her deep brown soulful eyes on me.
"Hey Daddy."
She had discarded the wrap; she had on only the bikini. She wore no make up; her dewy flawless skin required none. Her brown hair, which hung free, reached her shoulder blades. She had adopted a pouty saucy look, like she wanted to be innocent, but with that body and face she couldn't quite pull it off.
"Daddy, do you think I'm a tease?"
"Yes Emmy, Daddy thinks you're a tease. I'm afraid poor Robbie's gonna be hard all night."
"Do you think he'll play with his thing thinking about me?"
"I'm sure of it."
"It's not fair. The boys in school, they all know I don't put out. I tell them so, but still, they all try to get in my pants."
"With your body, in that bathing suit, honey, they can't help themselves."
"Oh, I see, it's my fault."
She sat on my lap, straddling my legs, facing me.
"I guess I'm a bad little girl for dressing like this. It's just that, well, the way guys look at me when I dress like this, it makes me all hot."
She reached behind her neck and untied her bikini top. Her large round breasts, tanned evenly with the rest of her body, fell forward. The upraised brown areolas were large, bigger than silver dollars. Her small brown nipples were erect.
She took a breast in her hand, held it, touched the nipple, shuddering at the sensation.
"Daddy, when boys look at me like Robbie did it makes me hot inside. It makes me want to fuck."
She took my hands and covered her breasts with them.
"See what I mean."
She was correct. Heat radiated from her swelling breasts.
"Emmy, you're right, your breasts are warm."
I squeezed, ever so slightly. She closed her eyes and let out a low moan, akin to the purr of a cat, shifted her hips, leaned forward, flattening her breasts flattened on my chest and whispered in my ear, "Maybe, later, you should spank me - I've been very, very bad. But right now I need you to fuck me. Please Daddy."
She sat back up, looking into my eyes, mouth partially open. Her lips were moist.
"Emmy, I thought you said you didn't put out for guys."
She kissed me, enveloping my lips with hers, then dragging them slowly over my mouth. Oh, could that girl kiss. It was like there was an extra portion of her brain devoted to it.
"Daddy, you're being silly. I said I didn't put out for boys. I always put out for my Daddy."
"I don't know honey. Maybe, after what you put poor Robbie through, I shouldn't reward you."
Emmy stood. Her bikini top fell off, landing in my lap, then dropping to the floor. She snaked two fingers under the bikini bottom. For a moment the damp fabric clung to her sex. She'd been out of the pool for hours; this juice had seeped from within her. She pulled it over her hips, then let go. It fell to her feet. She kicked it away. It landed on my desk. Her clean shaven pink pussy lips stood out against her tanned skin.
"Please Daddy, I need it so bad."
She stuck two fingers into her pussy, withdrew them. They were covered with cream. She sucked them into her mouth.
"I'm so wet Daddy, I'm burning up inside. Only you can make me feel better. I need you to fuck me. I want you Daddy. Please Daddy, fuck me, I need it so bad."
She reached up, her fingers tripped across her breast, then touched her lips. She stared at my crotch, my erection outlined in my blue shorts. Her gaze drifted upwards, to my face. She smiled, leaned forward, put her hands on the back of my chair. Her heavy breasts were hanging before me. She dragged her tongue over the surface of my ear.
"Oh Daddy, you're hard. I can make your dick feel so good. My cunt is hot and warm and wet and tight and waiting for Daddy's big cock. You'll love being inside me. Please Daddy, please fuck your little girl."
She fell to one knee; I lifted my ass. Emmy undid my belt, pulled my shorts and boxers off, then stood and straddled me. She wrapped her strong fingers around my dick and lowered herself onto me. She was right, her pussy was warm wet tight exquisite. She let out a long low soulful moan.
We required no foreplay. The entire day had been foreplay.
Years of yoga had left my daughter with unworldly control of her core. She squeezed her cunt muscles, then rippled them up the length of my cock.
"Oh Daddy."
Her arms lay across my shoulders; her hands were on the back of my head. She continued working her cunt on my cock, growing wetter. The muscles of her abdomen contracted rhythmically while her hips jerked spastically, without a pattern.
"Oh Daddy, so good, oh Daddy, its so good, oh Daddy, you're so big, you fill me up so good Daddy."
She sat straight up, brought her hands to her breasts, squeezing and kneading the firm flesh. I pushed her hands away and filled my mouth with them, licking her nipples. I rolled my hips, rotating my dick within her.
"Oh Daddy, yes Daddy, yes, I'm gonna come, gonna come, come on my Daddy's cock."
Her cunt muscles gripped, clenched, clutched my cock. I felt her spasm inside.
"Oh Daddy, Daddy, Daddy, Daddy, Daddy, Daddy. Eeeyyyyyyaaaaaaaahhhhhhhhhhhh."
She shook, then yanking her breast from my mouth, slunk into me. She softly kissed my lips.
"Daddy, you make me come so good."
And with that she was ready to go again. She sat back up and started rocking, barely moving, just enough to drag her clit across my pubic bone. The walls of her cunt came alive, massaging my erection. Her control was amazing, flooding me with pleasure, but never driving me over the edge, dragging out, prolonging the sensations dancing up and down my dick. I matched my movements to hers, increasing the pressure on her clit. Her breathing deepened; she babbled my name; her cunt gripped and released me; juice seeped between cock and cunt.
"Oh Daddy, I love the way you fuck me, you make your baby girl feel so good, I love my Daddy, I love my sweet Daddy."
She shuddered, she moaned, she gasped, she came, then came again in a series of short staccato explosions. Driving herself against my pubic bone in sharp sudden jabs, she was swept along by the wanton desire flooding though her.
"Daddy! Ohhh, oh gawd! Aaaaahhh!!"
Her body tensed; her moans intensified; her full weight was perched on my body. I arched my back, pushed my hips up and, taking hold of her ass, forced her into me, capturing her clit between our bodies.
"Ahhh, AHHH, Oh God, oh, oh, AHHHH!! I'm there. I'm there, Daddy, I am there. Eeeeeeeyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyy aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaah hhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh."
Her body shaking, she came in a final violent explosion. Her skin flushed; drops of sweat beaded, then rolled down her naked form. She lay her head on my shoulder, draped her body to mine, two bodies melded into one. While she marinated in post-orgasmic haze I kissed her, told her how much I loved her .
It was several minutes before she whispered in my ear, her voice low and soft, barely audible. "Daddy, you're the best lover a girl could ever want." Then, slowly regaining her strength, she kissed my neck and cheeks. She kissed my lips. Her tongue entered my mouth, slipped behind my lips, ran over my teeth, played with my tongue.
Finally she sat back up and looked me in the eye. "Okay Daddy, it's time. Fuck me Daddy. Fuck me, fuck me hard."
"Yes sweet daughter."
Until now Emmy had led; I'd matched my movements to hers. With her extraordinary control of her vagina, she had rocketed from orgasm to orgasm while giving my cock a work over, but keeping me short of blowing my load. Now she wanted Daddy in charge
Emmy planted her feet on the floor, flexed her leg muscles, and slid up my cock. I pushed into her. She lowered herself, then began bouncing up and down, gasping each time my cock skid into her belly. Her fat tits swayed; perspiration glowed on her face and shoulders. She, like I, was lost in our incestuous pleasure.
I held onto her hips; she grabbed my arms. The musky smell of our arousal, the sound of my cock churning in her wet pussy, filled the room. She cried in joy, "Oh Daddy, fuck me."
I increased the speed and power of my thrusts. She placed her forearms on my shoulders, rocking back and forth, riding my bucking body. I licked her nipples when her breasts swung past my face. Her mouth partially open, her head fell back, gasping each time I slammed into her.
I grabbed her ass and moved faster, pistoning my cock in and out. Her vagina contracted and although my dick was slick with her juice, the vise-like grip of her cunt grew ever tighter. I wouldn't last much longer.
Emmy was babbling, a smorgasbord of moans, screams, talk filthy and arousing. "Yes, yes. God, oh god Daddy. Fuck me Daddy, fill up my cunt, I'm yours, I love you Daddy. Oh god, oh fucking god, ohgodohgod, Aaaaaaagh."
Her fingernails dug into my back.
"Suck my tits Daddy, oh please Daddy, bite my nipples."
Her breasts were swollen, filled with blood; sweat flowed over their formidable curves. I wrapped my lips around a brown nipple, rolled it around my mouth, then opened my mouth wider and captured the entire areola. She whimpered in delight, grabbed my head, pulled it into her, burying my face in tit-flesh. I pounded my dick into her.
Then I felt it, the cum in my balls boiling, an orgasm hurdling towards me with the subtlety of a landslide.
I yanked my face from her breast. "You are mine," I grunted, pumping my cock into her. "Mine." I ravaged her body with full hard thrusts. I was insane with desire.
"Yes Daddy, yours now, yours forever, yours for all time! Yours. Yours, yours, yours, yours."
She squirmed and shook, her gyrating became violent. Her eyes were glazed; her mouth open; she sucked in air in short sharp gasps. Afraid she might topple to the floor, I grabbed her shoulders.
It was too much. "Baby, I'm going to come."
"Oh my god, Daddy! Fill me, fill me with your cum. Oh my god! Me too Daddy. Me too. Keep doing it... I'm going to... I'm going to..."
"You ready my sweet little girl."
"Your little girl, yes your little girl Daddy, oh fuck Daddy, oh fuck Daddy, oh fuck Daddy..."
She screamed, near the top of her lungs, and squirted, gushing cream. She fell forward, but continued bucking her hips up and down, back and forth, and kept talking, her tone intense and desperate, "Oh god yes Daddy, come inside me. Fill me up. I need you to come inside me, oh Daddy I need it."
My cum left my balls, geysered up my dick.
"Here it comes. Unnghm. Ahhh. AHHH. Oh God. OHHHH. YES BABY, DADDY'S CUMMING!!"
I was enveloped by the first wave of my orgasm. It felt like I was pumping a quart of cum into my child, turning her pussy into a swamp of incestuous lust. The sensation was overwhelming, incredible, driving me to the edge of consciousness. And my daughter kept talking. "Yes Daddy, yes. Come for me, come with me, come in me. Oh yes Daddy, I can feel it, I can feel you coming inside me."
I slammed by dick into her and reached for a breast, in my frenzy twisting her nipple harder than I'd intended. That set her off and she was swept up by the same tidal wave that had engulfed me. Impaled on my dick, she shook and thrashed as my cum coated her womb. Fireworks filled her mind; Emmy swayed back and forth. I grabbed her hips, holding her to me.
"Yeah, oh yeah. Pound me, pound me, fuck me, fuck, oh god Daddy yes, fuck fuck fu-fu-fu-fuck, fuck your daughter, OH YYEEEEEAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH."
She fell into me, jerking spasmodically; sweat covered her perfect form. Her limp body molded itself to mine. Her tits were pressed to my chest, our racing heartbeats merged. My desire for my daughter was all consuming, matched only by her lust for me. And the longer it went on, the more intense it became. We did not care how wrong it might be.
We sat like that for awhile, holding on to each other. Then, her voice weak, her tone certain, she said, "Oh Daddy, life is so good."
It took several more minutes for Emmy to regain her strength and leave a trail of soft sweet kisses across my face. She ended at my ear and whispered, "Did I make you come Daddy?"
I laughed. "Yes honey, you made Daddy come. You always make Daddy come. You're the best lover any Daddy's ever had."
* * * *
My wife left when Emmy was four years old. We'd been a mis-match. I had just started my security firm and worked constantly. She was a good time girl who figured money, somehow, just showed up. I was conservative and careful; she was impulsive. In retrospect, we married, I suspect, because we knew our limitations and thought we could resolve them in each other. Oh, and there was another reason, she was stunning. My daughter's good looks came naturally.
At first I dated regularly, but stopped when Emmy reached the age of reason and I could no longer explain the overnight guests. But, more than that, I stopped because of my observation of blended families. They worked when parents gave each other full authority over both sets of children. In my head I could accept another adult disciplining Emmy; in my heart I knew I never would.
So I raised Emmy. Her mother, whose dissolute lifestyle was increasingly evident in her face, was an irregular presence. By her last few visits the dark circles under her eyes, the premature wrinkles, the pasty skin, it all scared Emmy. After her mother would leave Emmy would crawl into my lap and cry. She was twelve when her mother last appeared. Some years later I tracked her down. She had passed away.
I'm not asking you to feel sorry for me. My business, which I loved, was doing well; we were profitable and served four states. There were also a few neighborhood ladies and business acquaintances whose situations were similar to mine and to whose bed I was a regular visitor. But yes, I put serious romance on hold until Emmy got older.
Happily, Emmy was all I could ask for in a child. She did well in school, had a plethora of friends, and did not do that teen-age rebellion thing. She did more than her share of the house work, without being asked. She even earned her keep. A client of mine who owned a restaurant that catered to young businessmen hired Emmy as a waitress. Sometimes I'd go, sit in a corner, and watch my beautiful daughter work a table. She was sweet, flirty, engaging; the guys never stinted on the tip.
There was one area of concern. Boys her age swarmed around the house; college guys called; my male friends let their eyes linger on her longer than they should. And she, with a kind word, a quick laugh, and those darting brown eyes, charmed them all. At age fourteen we had the sex conversation. I offered birth control, no questions asked. She laughed and, touching her groin, said she would not let any boy stick his thing in there.
Still she never lacked for dates, had the coquette thing down, and her clothes, while not trashy, accented her fabulous form. Occasionally I re-visited birth control, always to the same result. That is, until a month before her eighteenth birthday.
I was watching television when Emmy sat down and slid against me, partially crawling into my lap. She was wearing a white tank top that stopped a few inches short of her cut offs. At first I didn't think anything of it. During the last few months she had taken to leaning into me when we sat on the couch together. Her movements were graceful, almost feline, and she'd end up with a leg draped over mine, an arm on my shoulder or across my chest, our bodies pressed together. It seemed borderline inappropriate, father or not I was aware of my daughter's magnificent body, but when I mentioned it Emmy reverted to little girl mode, stuck her tongue out, and asked why not, a girl feels safe with her daddy. I felt silly, said nothing more and, to be honest, loved the feel of my daughter's warm body against mine.
I sensed something was up, but was still surprised when, the program ended, Emmy said, "Daddy, about birth control. I'd like to try the patch."
There was, as far as I knew, no special boy in her life. The desire to ask if there was strong, but I'd told myself when this day came, I'd say nothing. And so I didn't.
"Okay honey, call Doctor Fulgum's office and make an appointment. If they have any questions, tell them to call me."
"Thank you Daddy."
She moved back and sat on the couch in the lotus position, facing me. "There's something else. You've been asking about my eighteenth birthday. I know what I want. I want to celebrate it with my Daddy, just you and me. Over Thanksgiving I want to go to Miami. I checked your calendar, you're available."
I ran my schedule through my mind. She was right; there was nothing that would prevent the trip.
"Sure, but I figured you wantede to spend it with your friends."
She took my hand in hers, absentmindedly playing with my fingers.
"I thought you were my friend Daddy. But Nina," Nina, a cute little red head with a funky persona, was Emmy's best friend, "spilled the beans. My friends were planning a party, but couldn't agree on when. Some wanted it on my birthday, but the people who were going out of town for Thanksgiving wanted to do it the weekend before. Nina, on the sly, asked my preference. I told her to go with the weekend before my birthday. That leaves me free to be with you."
I was gratified by her solicitude. I was lucky to have such a daughter. "Well Emmy, I can think of nothing I'd love more than to be with my beautiful daughter on her birthday."
Some hairs had fallen across Emmy's face. She took hold of them, twiddled with the ends, pushed them behind her ear, wrapped her arms around my head, snuggled up to me, kissed my cheek.
"Do you really think I'm beautiful Daddy?"
Was she serious or just playing, fishing for a compliment? I wasn't sure.
"Yes, the prettiest girl in the world, soon to be the prettiest woman."
With a slight blush, she kissed my cheek, her lips dwelling on my skin a beat or two longer than normal. Her hand was on my chest.
"Thank you Daddy. I think you're the handsomest man. When we get to Miami, the night I turn eighteen, I'm gonna ask you for another present, but for now it's a secret."
I never heard from Dr. Fulgum. Had Emmy changed her mind? Probably not. More likely Mary Ann Fulgum, a family friend and Emmy's doctor for years, decided to maintain my daughter's privacy. I pushed it out of my mind.
* * * *
We arrived in Miami Thanksgiving morning. It was a special occasion and I booked a two bedroom suite with an ocean view at the Ritz Carlton Bal Harbour. Emmy had packed as if we were going on an expedition; I tipped the bellman after he deposited her voluminous baggage in her room.
Emmy had, for the most part, kept our plans in the dark, generically instructing me on what to pack. I was told to bring credit cards and cash; Emmy had said she had a few special treats in mind, but she wouldn't be paying for everything. We ate Thanksgiving dinner at the hotel; it was unexpectedly good. I wore slacks and a sports shirt, she a green loose-fitting shirt with three quarter length sleeves and a tiny black skirt. She was, I thought, a young woman, not a teen-aged girl. After we ordered dessert Emmy reached into her purse and pulled out two tickets. They were for the Miami Heat game that evening.
I love basketball.
"Ohmigod honey, I can't believe this. How did you, where did you, they must have cost a fortune. I'm supposed to be treating you."
Her broad smile showed she'd gotten the reaction she'd hoped for.
I leaned over to kiss her. She turned her head, offering me her lips. We kissed and I took her hand in mine, "Thank you Emmy, thank you very much."
"Anything for my handsome Daddy."
We took a town car to the game. The seats were mid-court, ten rows back. Emmy folded her arm in mine. At halftime we were shown on the scoreboard - they're always looking for pretty girls - which elicited a happy laugh and a quick wave from my delighted daughter. After the game, the weather perfect, Emmy suggested walking back to the hotel.
The streets were crowded, the curbs lined with food trucks. Emmy and I washed down ceviche de corvina with coconut milk straight from the coconut, listened to street musicians, marveled at the murals and local architecture. The smell - a combination of ocean spray and Cuban spices - was intoxicating. Emmy clung to my side, laughing, eyes sparkling. I was with the prettiest sweetest lady in the city.
We got back to the room after midnight. Emmy asked me to take the first shower, she said she needed an extra long one. I obliged her and was sitting in the living room in my robe when she ducked into the bathroom.
Still wound up from the evening I turned on the television, but found nothing of interest and decided to fetch my Kindle from the bedroom. When I passed the bathroom I heard a moan. I stopped, unsure of what it meant. It was followed by a second moan. It's meaning was clear. Emmy was masturbating.
I'm not sure why I was surprised. Still, I was startled, frozen in place. My mind's eye envisioned Emmy, water cascading down her body, a finger on her clitoris, two more thrust inside her. Then she moaned again, this time more intensely, interrupting my reverie. I scurried to my bedroom, grabbed the Kindle, returned to the living room, but couldn't focus. I was still thinking about what was going on in the bathroom, but the shower was too loud, the distance too great for me to hear anything more. Eventually the water was turned off and I heard Emmy's voice. She'd cracked open the door, a sliver of her face visible.
"Daddy, I forgot my nightie. Can you get it?"
"Yes honey, where is it?"
"I left it on my bed."
"Do you need a robe?"
"Yeah Daddy, I packed mine, but I forget which suitcase. Once you get my nightie I'll find it.
The lingerie was where she said it would be. A coral satin slip, I held it up to light. It was sheer. It was also small; it would barely reach her butt. I looked at her luggage. What else was in there? Emmy joked about spending all the money she made waitressing on clothes, which left me out of the loop on what she bought. Maybe I should pay more attention.
I walked back down the hall, knocked on the door, a hand emerged. I handed it the slip.
"Thank you Daddy."
"Where did you get that thing?"
"Why, do you like it Daddy?"
"It's tiny."
"Well Daddy, if it makes you feel better, you're the only guy who's seen it."
"Okay, lets keep it that way."
The door shut, reopening minutes later. At the sound I looked up from the book I was not reading. There was a mirror on the wall; I saw Emmy walk down the hallway to her room. I knew I shouldn't, but I watched. Her back was to me. The slip had molded itself to her still damp buttocks. I had seen her backside dozens of times, she preferred a thong when lounging by the pool, but there was something about this moment that was different. Was it the forbidden nature of my covert glance?
I could hear Emmy rummaging through her luggage before she reappeared wearing a pink full-sized dressing gown. Bare foot, she padded over and sat next to me.
"Daddy, this was the best Thanksgiving ever."
I lay an arm over her shoulder and pulled her close.
"It was great."
We talked briefly of the day. Emily leaned into me, fiddled with her hair, walked her fingers up and down my thigh, promised more fun tomorrow. I said I was ready for bed; she said she'd stay up awhile and text some friends. I kissed her on the cheek and headed for my bedroom. Emmy turned the television on. Good, I thought, ambient noise. I pulled out my penis. I did not, I swear I did not, think of Emmy. I thought about a saleswoman for Grainger who'd been an occasional guest in my bed. And yeah, her butt reminded me of Emmy's.
* * * *
I woke the next morning, made a cup of coffee, and opened my computer to check on the office, responding to the most important messages. I did not know my barefoot daughter had entered the room until she leaned over me from behind, wrapped her arms around my chest, pressed her body to my shoulders, kissed the top of my head.
"Morning Daddy."
"Morning."
"Working?"
"Just checking on a few things. There's coffee in the kitchen."
"Thanks." She glanced at my mug. "Almost done Daddy? Need a refill?"
I looked at my cup. She was right. "Sure, thanks."
She walked around the couch and bent at the waist for my coffee cup. Her hair fell across her face. I looked up and saw her full breasts over the hem of her gown. I turned away, but not before being struck my how well-endowed my daughter was, even more so than her mother.
She stood up. "Let's see if I remember. Glass rinsed out, a little bit of skim milk, a half pack of fake sugar, the pink kind not the blue kind, shaken not stirred. Do I have it right?"
I laughed. "Yes honey."
When she returned from the kitchen she sat on the coffee table in front of me, closed my computer, pushed it to the side, and leaned forward, her hand on my knee.
"Daddy, I don't tell you often enough how much I appreciate how hard you've worked to take care of me."
I blushed. "Thank you."
She shifted her position, moving closer. Our knees touched. She stretched, her body swaying back and forth, as if getting used to being awake. She returned her gaze to my eyes.
"I was thinking we couldn't just party while we're here, so I scheduled a yoga class and some gym time this morning. The Ritz-Carlton has a deal with a local gym. They got a kick-boxing class I want to try. That way when a bunch of beautiful women attack you on the beach I can fend them off. As for my handsome Daddy, I was thinking some weights and the treadmill."
She ran her hand down my leg, squeezing my calf. Several strands of hair fell across her face. She pushed them behind her ear, then, absentmindedly, brought them back to her mouth, chewing on the ends. "Whatcha' think?"
I can't say hitting the gym was tops on my list, but Emmy was right, it was a good idea. I nodded my approval. My daughter smiled. She had perfect teeth and a beautiful smile.
* * * *
I've never been big on yoga; I've attended only a handful of classes. Emmy, on the other hand, was devoted to it. While I struggled to assume a facsimile of each pose, I marveled at my daughter's grace and flexibility. When we were done she took hold of my hand and introduced the two of us to the teacher; they spent several minutes discussing yoga in a parlance with which I was unfamiliar. She then headed for the locker room to get ready for kick boxing. Despite my initial reluctance, I got in a strong kettle-bell work-out. I did the same on the treadmill, although I had to get one of the club's twenty-somethings to show me how to work the damn thing, its bells and whistles a mystery to me.
When done I wandered down the hall to the boxing ring. I stood to the side, outside Emmy's range of vision, not wanting to disturb her workout. She was standing, her feet at shoulder width, forearms in defensive position, gloved fists pointing at the ceiling. She jerked her right knee up, lowered it to the floor, then kicked again. This time her extended leg smashed into a heavy bag, forcing it back several feet. I wouldn't want to be on the receiving end of that. Alternating legs, she repeated the process for about three minutes.
When the trainer blew his whistle Emmy, clearly exhausted, walked to the side of the ring and laid her hands, encased in oversized white boxing gloves, on the middle rope. Her tank top exposed her midriff. Her hair, pulled into a pony tail, was askew, draped over her shoulder. Her face was flushed; she was covered with a veneer of sweat. She was breathing heavily. She leaned her head back, her mouth, framed by her full lips, slightly ajar. I glanced to my right. Several men were staring at her. I couldn't blame them. She was stunning.
The trainer blew his whistle, time for the cool down. Emmy pulled off the gloves, picked up a jump rope, and effortlessly completed the task. I thought about her as a child, jump roping with friends, always claiming to be the best on the block.
When the class was dismissed I waved. Emmy walked over, wrapped her arm around my waist, slid her slick body against mine, kissed my cheek. Her breasts, still heaving as she caught her breath, were pressed to my side. Guys looked at her; desire on their countenances. Guys looked at me, admiration, or was it jealously, in their eyes. I may have been her father, but a part of me liked this image: a still-in-shape older man and his beautiful young girlfriend.
"How long you been watching?" she asked.
"About ten minutes."
"How'd I do?"
"You're unreal, a combination of grace and strength."
She took my hands in hers and stepped back, the look on her face one of genuine pleasure. "Thank you Daddy." She squeezed my arm. "How 'bout you Daddy, you have a good work-out."
"Sure did."
We headed back to the gym. "Daddy, instead of showering here, let's do it in the hotel. I checked the stalls, they're kinda yucky. We can sneak in the back door; that way we won't make spectacles of ourselves."
I thought about my sweaty daughter walking through the hotel's lobby in that outfit. No guy would object. Still, I saw her point.
"Sure honey. I'll get my stuff."
I'd been chatting with the front desk clerk for about twenty minutes when Emmy arrived, gym bag slung over her shoulder. She'd fixed herself up: applied a bit of make-up, reworked her pony tail, and was wearing a light green jacket with the gym's logo on it. When she saw me her face lit up in a wide bright smile. The girl had a way of making you feel special. She declined my offer to carry her bag, locked her hand in mine, and we walked back to the hotel.
* * * *
After my shower I put on my robe and, having no idea what she had planned, headed towards my daughter's room. "Emmy, what are we doing today? What should I wear?"
Emmy yelled, "I laid your clothes out on your bed Daddy," just as I came around the corner. Her back to the half-open door, Emmy was leaning over her bed, arranging a few things. She was naked. I stopped and caught my breath. I was staring at her ass. While Emmy was thin, somehow she still managed a bit of heft on her rump. The hours she spent in the gym were also evident; her butt floated in the air, immune to gravity. A bit oval, more apple shaped than round, weight nicely centered. Her skin was flawless.
My daughter started to turn. I stepped back. I had just checked out my child's behind.
"Daddy, is that you?"
"Yes pumpkin. I didn't realize that you were..." I stopped. Should I confess that I'd just seen my daughter au natural?
"I'm sorry Daddy. I should have closed the door," and then, after a pause, "Did you like what you saw?"
"Its hard for me to accept you're all grown up."
I was still only a few feet from the door, her image pulsated in my brain. I couldn't flee down the hall, she was talking to me. Then her head snaked around the door frame.
"Daddy, even when I'm an all grown up, I'll be your little girl."
An arm emerged. She blew me a kiss. "Promise me Daddy, promise me I'll always be your best girl."
I was staring at her face, imagining her nude body. I said nothing; it must have been obvious my thoughts were scattered. Emmy raised an eyebrow, waiting for my response.
"Of course Emmy, you'll always be my best girl."
Again, her full lips parted and she smiled, not a wide grin, but a sweet subtle one, one of happy acceptance. She reached out, took hold of two of my fingers, and pulled me towards her. Her hand went to the side of my head, cupped my face, drew it to hers. Her thick lips met mine and she kissed me, enveloping my lips in hers. It lasted less than a heartbeat. It seemed much longer.
She pulled back. "Thank you Daddy, that's all I've ever wanted to be, your best girl." Her head disappeared. She shut the door. I stood there. There was a definite throbbing in my groin.
I took a deep breath, went to my room, dressed, returned to the living room, checked e-mails. About forty-five minutes later Emmy walked in, announcing her presence with a "Ta-da!"
She was wearing a tiny pair of denim shorts, Dr. Martens leather boots, and a backless halter top held on by spaghetti straps. Funky round sun glasses were tucked in her cleavage and she sported a metal bracelet and a few rings. It was a hippy happy look, but a kind that only a beautiful woman confident of her appeal could wear. That was Emmy.
"Whatta ya think Daddy-O?"
"I think I might need to hire you a bodyguard."
She laughed, walked up to me, ran her hand down my biceps. "I was hoping my handsome Daddy would take that job."
I smiled; she continued. "Today's a big day for street festivals in Miami. I've scoped out some, but best I can figure spontaneity is key. So I decided to dress comfortably."
And so we hit the streets. I couldn't remember having more fun. We watched the crowning of a beauty queen, enjoyed the work of local artisans, wolfed down Cuban fare from omnipresent food trucks, and more than anything else, danced. No matter what was played - Latin Jazz, Funk, Caribbean, Reggae, Salsa, Merengue, Bachata, Balada - the rhythm would inhabit my daughter's body and she'd move as if born to it. Wherever we went Emmy made friends; she mixed with the musicians, the vendors, the sponsors, strangers from the crowd, laughing and dancing with all of them, but always reserving the final few numbers for me. At first I tried to refrain - afraid of looking like an old fool - but I always gave in and, as time went by, and aided by some Bacardi, I relaxed, happily letting her drag me into the crowd. I had, in my youth, been a good dancer - it was something Emmy's mother and I loved to do. I found I could still cut a rug.
For the evening's finale, a concert by Skakira, the crowd migrated to the beach. Skakira danced and sang and Emmy was lost in the music; her body one with the sound. I may have been Emmy's father, but there was no mistaking the unalloyed sexuality of either woman. And Emmy, who had freely danced with others throughout the day, insisted that when it came to Shakira, only Daddy would do.
We got back to the hotel after midnight. It was now my daughter's birthday. I asked her to wait on the balcony. Although she'd said the only thing she wanted for her birthday was the trip, I had noticed her admiring a friend's woven braided gold necklace. When I joined her on the balcony she could tell by the gleam in my eye something was up.
"What is it?"
"Turn around, I want to put it on you."
She turned, facing the harbor and downtown. I kissed the back of her head, said happy birthday, and slipped it around her neck. She looked down, ran it through her fingers, turned, smiled, blushed slightly.
"Daddy, thank you, its so beautiful. You didn't need to, all my life you've done so much for me. I told you all I wanted for my birthday was your company."
"I remember sweetheart, but you only turn eighteen once. And you make it look beautiful."
My daughter stood on her toes and kissed my lips, then turned in my arms, her back to me. She looked out over the city. When she shivered I wrapped my arms tighter around her. She leaned into me.
"You have fun today, Daddy?"
"Yes Emmy, I can't remember enjoying myself more."
She placed her hands on mine and rolled her shoulders, snuggling against me. "I'm glad Daddy, I want this to be the best vacation ever."
"Well, sweetheart, you succeeded. I'm lucky to have a girl like you."
Again she turned in my arms. Facing me, she touched her necklace, kissed my cheek, then whispered in my ear. "I'm the lucky one Daddy. No girl's ever had a Daddy as handsome and wonderful and kind and caring as you." She lay her head on my shoulder. "I loved dancing with you today. Could we dance again, right now?"
We swayed together, holding each other tight, moving on the balcony, listening to the sound of the night. When done Emmy kissed me, her thick lips dragging over mine. We walked back inside holding hands.
"You want to take a shower Daddy?"
"No honey. I think I'll lay down and pass out."
She made a face, the kind that says men can be so gross, and kissed me again. I went to my bedroom, stripped, listened to my daughter's light step in the hallway, heard the shower turn on, imagined her stepping inside, imagined her masturbating, took my erection in my hand. As I came I heard a ping on my phone. It was a selfie of Emmy blowing me a kiss. The message was simple: "Thanks for a wonderful day. I love my Daddy."
------X------
Stepping out of the shower I smelled coffee brewing. I dried myself off, put on my robe, joined Emmy in the kitchen.
"What's on the agenda?"
"Well, first yoga, then I figure we're in Miami, we should hit the beach. Tonight's a surprise. Did you remember to bring your navy blue suit. You look so handsome in it."
I smiled. I'd remembered. "Yes Emmy."
* * * *
Emmy did yoga; I worked out on an exercise bike. On our return to the hotel Emmy disappeared into her room, emerging in a short yellow dress. She took it off on the beach; underneath was a relatively modest one-piece swimsuit, the bottom black, the top alternating horizontal black and white stripes. It covered her butt and only hinted at her cleavage. And while skin tight, compared to the ubiquitous micro-bikinis around us it was nigh-Victorian.
"Whatta ya think?'
"You look great honey."
Gesturing to several near-by women wearing only tiny triangles of fabric, she said, "Would you prefer something like that?"
"No honey, then we'd be fighting off the boys."
She laughed. "That's exactly right Daddy. The only man for me is you."
We found a place to lie down. Emmy applied sun block to herself, I did her back. After I smeared it on my legs, arms, face, and chest, Emmy said, "Lay down Daddy. I'll do the rest."
I followed instructions; Emmy knelt next to me. She squirted the oil onto my back and worked it in. Emmy's slender fingers were strong; I issued a low-key moan, letting her know how good it felt. I relaxed, enjoying what had morphed into a massage. She took her time, rubbing the liquid into my shoulders and neck, then along the sides of my body.
She next turned to my legs, starting at my feet. I laughed when she reached the back of my knees; I was ticklish there. After a final twirl of her fingers, Emmy changed position and straddled my leg. She worked the oil into the back of my thighs, cupped her hands over then, fingers on each side, and pushed forward, forcing the liquid into my skin. It felt heavenly, but she was drawing close to my crotch. I thought about saying something, but how not to sound like a pervert when telling your teenage daughter she's getting to close to Daddy's privates?
Emmy pushed up one more time; her fingers reached my butt. I was about to caution her when she said, "Daddy, you've got great legs. I can feel all your muscles. Don't move, one last place."
She applied lotion to two fingertips and ran them along the edge of my butt, then lay next to me.
"Thank you sweetie."
"You're welcome Daddy."
Emmy snaked her hand into mine and rested a foot against my ankle. I closed my eyes, enjoying the warmth of the sun.
I was not sure how long it'd been – I was drifting in and out of consciousness – when Emmy said, "Daddy, would you kiss me?"
I rolled up on my elbow, said, "Sure honey," and pecked her on the cheek. Then I saw the look on her face. Something was wrong.
"What is it honey?"
"Don't look Daddy, but a bunch of guys a couple of blankets over have been staring at me, talking about me."
"Do you want me to say something to them?"
"No Daddy, but I need you to kiss me, like we're together, like I'm your girlfriend. They'll get the message."
She didn't wait for a response, but puckered her lips and ran a hand through my hair. Saying no didn't seem an option. I lowered my face and her lips molded themselves to mine, dragging over the surface of my mouth. I felt an instant jolt, an unexpected arousal. She kissed me again, the pressure of her lips stronger. She turned my head, brought her mouth to my ear, whispered, "Thanks Daddy."
I rolled onto my back and, eyes obscured by my sunglasses, I glanced at a pack of guys, a few years older than Emmy, staring at us. They said a few things, all meant to be overhead: "The old dude must have money," "Check out gramps," "She needs some real lovin'." They packed up and wandered off.
Emmy, who had taken my hand in hers, rolled onto her elbow and kissed me, this time a peck on the lips.
"We must be naturals."
We lay together, but the mood had been broken, Emmy was antsy.
"Daddy, let's take a walk, but pretend you're my boyfriend. It will cut down on the leering, it will keep guys from hitting on me."
Well, it'd worked once. I stood and helped her up. We started up the beach, holding hands.
Our experience mimicked the day before; everyone noticed Emmy, she made friends everywhere. We got involved in a volleyball game, danced with a informal gathering of reggae musicians, and shared a meal with two families barbequing on the sand. Emmy treated me like her boyfriend: held my hand, leaned her body into mine, kissed my cheek. Wherever we went we were treated like a couple. I found I liked basking in the light of my entrancing daughter.
As we headed back to the hotel I said, "I can't believe we pulled it off. Everybody thought I was your boyfriend." The excitement in my voice caught me by surprise,
"Yes, wasn't it fun. You were quite the hit. The girls kept asking me how to snare such a hunky guy. I can get you some dates with some hot young chicks."
I laughed. "I doubt if, but you're all the hot young chicks, make that gorgeous young woman, I'm interested in."
There was a serious undertone in her voice when she replied. "Do you mean that, do you think I'm a gorgeous woman?"
I took both her hands in mine. "Yes, I do. But, you're even more beautiful on the inside."
* * * *
At the hotel, per instructions, I put on my blue suit. Then I waited.
Emmy appeared an hour later wearing a backless strapless black gown. It was snug across her chest and displayed a hint of cleavage. She saw the appreciation in my eyes and id a pirouette. My gaze was drawn to her behind; the dress molded itself to her backside before gracefully flowing to the floor. Her hair was down; she carried a small black purse and a black jacket. Her only jewelry, besides small diamond earrings, was the necklace I'd given her the night before. There was a wide smile on her face; she was radiant, pure class.
I looked at her, seeing something new. Something had happened in Miami. I was seeing Emmy in a way I wouldn't have imagined a week ago, unabashedly appreciating the sexy young woman my daughter had become.
"Well Daddy?"
"Emmy, you're spectacular. Wherever we're going, I'll be the envy of every man there."
She walked towards me, her stride slow and sexy. "That's the way I want it."
She leaned forward – with her black heels she was only an inch or two shorter than I – and kissed my lips. The kiss took longer, was harder, than I expected. I dismissed it; it was a special occasion. Wherever we were going, I'd be with the sexiest woman in the place.
I called downstairs for a town car and slipped Emmy's jacket on her. The front was open, accenting her breasts; it was long in the back, hanging past her rump. I took her arm in mine. Eyes followed us as we crossed the hotel lobby. The car was waiting; Emmy provided an address.
Fifteen minutes later we arrived at the harbor and boarded a yacht for a dinner cruise. Not exactly the kind of hep place I'd have expected my eighteen year old daughter to choose for her birthday; it was more an old man's speed. I took off her jacket and held her chair for her, handing the jacket to our waiter. I ordered wine, then dinner. For the moment Emmy eschewed dessert; she asked me to walk with her on the deck. I nodded to the waiter; he returned with her jacket. He pulled out her chair; I slipped the jacket on her.
It was cold. The few other couples on the deck soon retreated inside. Emmy stood on the guard rail, looking back at the city. I stood behind her.
"Daddy, I'm chilly."
"Do you want to go back inside?"
"No Daddy, I like it here, just the two of us. Hold me."
I wrapped my arms around her. She dropped her head back onto my shoulder.
"Daddy I love your strong body."
I thought about some of the guys she'd dated, far stronger than I. But why dispute a compliment?
"I love holding you pumpkin. This has been a wonderful trip. I should be taking care of you on your birthday, but you've been taking care of me."
She rotated in my arms, faced me, brought a fingertip to my face, ran it along the length of my mouth, played with my lips.
"Daddy, don't be silly. You've taken care of me all my life, I'll never be able to thank you enough. I love taking care of you; I'd like to do it forever."
I took her hands in mine, brought them to my lips, kissed them.
"Now you're being silly. You can't take care of me forever. Someday there will be a young man for you to take care of, who will take care of you."
Music from inside the ballroom, slow and sweet, flowed down the deck. "No Daddy, no one can ever replace you. Dance with me?"
I started back to the ballroom, but Emmy stood still. "No Daddy, out here, just you and me."
And so my daughter and I held each other, dancing on the deck of a yacht, alone.
When the band broke we headed back to the ball room. I took off her jacket, slid it over my chair. We ordered dessert, splitting a fudge brownie capped with ice cream.
When done Emmy went to the ladies room, refreshed her lipstick. The band came back on. We danced the rest of the night. Emmy had always been a wonderful dancer. Even as a child music would inhabit her body. But as we danced together that night, I saw something else. Emmy moved with undeniable sensuality. It had probably long been this way, but I had not seen it. I enjoyed watching her and, something rare in my rigidly controlled world, found myself in the moment. I simply held my daughter, enjoying her perfect form, not worrying about what people might think.
The boat docked. Other couples praised us, complementing us on how we danced together. Emmy deflected the credit to me. Everyone assumed we were a couple and I saw no reason to correct them. Imagine, an old man like me with such a beautiful young woman.
We left holding hands, took a cab back to the hotel, made our way to our suite. I took off my jacket, then Emmy's, and sat on the couch. Emmy, holding two glasses of wine, sat next to me, took off her shoes, reached behind herself, slid the dress' zipper down a few inches, shifted her shoulders, loosening the garment, displaying her cleavage. I reached for my tie.
"No Daddy, let me."
Emmy, her face inches from mine, deftly loosened, then undid, the knot of my tie. She laid the ends on my chest, unbuttoned my shirt, pushed her hand inside, thrumming her fingers on my skin.
"I love your chest Daddy, strong and fuzzy."
"I thought hair on men was out."
"Maybe on boys, but not on men."
Her hand resting on my chest, she leaned against me. I placed my arm over her shoulder, looked down. Her nipples, deep brown and surrounded by large distended areolas, were clearly visible. I looked up, noted Emmy's foot resting on the edge of the coffee table. Her dress had bundled at her hips. My daughter had magnificent legs.
We sat awhile, sipped our wine, enjoyed the weight and warmth of each other's bodies. Then Emmy spoke.
"Daddy, these last few days, they've been the best and happiest of my life."
I thought to pooh-pooh her statement, but I couldn't recall a better time. It was the best vacation of my life, although, on second thought, it really hadn't been a vacation. It had been a date; sans the sex, it's what I would've done with a girlfriend, not family.
The thought made be uncomfortable. If I was imagining I was dating my daughter, maybe I better start dating more. Had I had let the boundaries with Emmy slip? No, I reassured myself, I was overreacting. My daughter was a woman, trips to Disneyworld were no longer appropriate.
Emmy sensed my agitation. She kissed my cheek, ran her hands through my hair. "Why don't you take the first shower Daddy."
"It's getting late Emmy, I thought I might wait til morning."
Emmy sat up, holding the hem of her dress, which had almost completely fallen from her breasts, to her chest. "Boys are so gross. You take yours, then I'll take mine. Could you stay up Daddy? I'd like it if you did my hair."
I stood and Emmy, tugging her dress over her breasts with one hand, took my hand with the other, stood, kissed my cheek, and said in a low voice, "Don't use up all the hot water."
I hung up my clothes, grabbed my pyjamas, headed for the shower. I considered jerking off, but recalling my daughter's admonition about a quick shower, refrained. I knocked on Emmy's door on my way back to my room, letting her know I was done. I heard her turn the shower on. I knew I shouldn't, but I imagined her soapy hands running over her body, water dripping down her exquisite form. Was she masturbating?
I had surrendered; thoughts of my daughter were turning me on. I definitely needed to start dating again. Images of Emmy were flashing through my mind – I couldn't push them out – when she knocked on the door and, wrapped in a short thick towel and carrying a hair dryer and brush, she entered my room.
This had become a regular feature at our home. Emmy would take a shower, I'd dry her hair. They were nice intimate moments. She sat on the edge of the bed and plugged in the blow dryer. Eyes closed, she let me do her hair, enjoying my hands running through her hair. When done I lay the blow dryer and brush on the table beside the bed; Emmy checked her hair, nodded her approval. She got up, turned off the light, opened the blinds, letting the city's ambient light seep into the room, and cuddled next to me, slipping her hand under my pyjama tops, nestling her fingers in my chest hair. Her body was warm; she smelled fresh and clean.
"Daddy, there's no place I'd rather be than here with you, right now."
"Thank you Emmy. I love my sweet daughter."
"And I love my handsome Daddy."
Snuggled next to me, I was acutely aware that my daughter's perfect form was wrapped only in a towel. I knew I should send her back to her room, but I liked her just where she was. I was grateful for the blanket pulled over me, which hid my penis, half-filled with blood. Then Emmy said, "Daddy, do you remember when I told you that the night I turned eighteen I was going to ask for a special present."
"Yes Emmy."
"I want you to make love to me."
I've run that moment through my mind a thousand times, trying to piece together how I felt. I suspect I've re-remembered it so many times there is little original memory left. I was deeply aroused. In the past several days my relationship with Emmy had transformed. In Miami we had acted as beaus, not father and daughter. My daughter had presented herself as a very adult, very sexual creature and I, by my behavior, had accepted this version of her. I'd let the boundaries dissolve. I had, much of it at her instigation, sexualized my daughter.
And I wanted her. I couldn't remember ever wanting anything more.
But I tried. I really did try.
"Emmy, I'm your father."
"I know Daddy, I know I'm not supposed to want this. I've tried to get you out of my head, I really have. I date guys, nice guys, guys other girls rave about. I kiss them, let them kiss me. But it's no good, you're the one I want."
She brought her lips to mine, kissed me. I didn't kiss back, but offered no resistance. Instead my mind was racing, my libido threatening to run out of control. I struggled, trying to tamp down my feelings, to put together a coherent response, all while trying to get inside Emmy's head, to understand her point of view. I couldn't accuse her of doing or feeling anything wrong; I needed to say no gently.
I ran my hands through her hair and carefully moved her head away. I looked into her eyes. There was fear there? Fear I'd say no. Her question, would I be her lover, was not the impulsive act of a child, it was a woman's long contemplated wish. She had placed her heart in my hands.
The right words would not come to me.
"Daddy, do you want me?'
Flummoxed by the unexpected directness of her question, I was unable to confect a lie. "Yes Emmy."
"Can we? Tonight?"
I said nothing. She leaned forward and kissed me. I didn't kiss her back, but I accepted her mouth on mine. She ended the kiss, sat up on her knees, undid the towel, let it fall to the bed. Her face was flush, her sensual brown eyes focused. Her full round breasts, their size emphasized by her slender build, sat high on her chest. She was physical perfection.
"What do you think Daddy? Did I grow up well?"
"Emmy, you're beautiful."
"Thank you Daddy. I've wanted you as long as I remember. I need to know."
She kissed me again and when the tip of her tongue tickled my lips I let them part, let her probe the inside of my mouth. Her tongue slipped behind my lips, tripped across my teeth, visited my cheeks, the roof of my mouth. And then, when it teased my tongue, I teased back.
Emmy felt me respond. She ran her fingers up my chest, unbuttoned my pyjama shirt, licked, then nibbled on, my nipples. I groaned, acknowledging my arousal.
Emmy smiled, lay on top of me, used her feet to push the blanket and sheet down to my calves. My erection was pressed to her torso.
"Daddy, when I was a little girl I thought I had the smartest nicest sweetest best Daddy of all. When I got a little older I realized I had the handsomest sexiest Daddy. Then I got older and I knew my Daddy was the man I wanted, the one to make me a woman. I know I'm not supposed to want you, but whoever made that rule didn't have a Daddy like you. I've tried wanting other men, I really have, but I don't. And I'll never be able to until I know you."
She rolled off me, slipped her hand inside my pyjamas, grasped my penis, brought her lips to mine. I groaned into her mouth; our tongues played together, touched, licked, twisted. My hand went to the back of her head, holding her face to mine. I sucked on her tongue, then played with her upper lip, trapped it with my teeth, pulled it into my mouth.
I ended the kiss, took my daughter's chin in my hand, turned her head to face mine. Our eyes locked together. I struggled to catch my breath, the depth of my arousal unmistakable.
And then I abdicated responsibility. "Emmy, are you sure?"
"Yes Daddy, I'm sure." The tone of her voice, the look on her face, confirmed her words; she was certain. This was something long considered, something she'd looked at with her heart, her body, her mind, something she'd ruminated over from every angle, something, as she'd said, she needed to do. And in all that, I found reassurance. Or maybe I give myself too much credit. I wanted my daughter. Maybe I grabbed the first decent excuse that came along.
"You're on birth control?"
"Yes Daddy."
I smiled and kissed my daughter's sweet full lips. Emmy pulled on my pyjamas bottoms, but my erection got caught in the waist band. Emmy reached inside, pressed my dick to my body, pulled my pyjamas over it. She looked at my penis, stiff and brown and hard.
"My god Daddy, it's beautiful."
Bouncing up, she straddled my legs, took hold of my dick, looked at it with a wide happy grin, fisted it. Whenever a drop of pre-cum appeared she worked it nto the head and surrounding skin with her thumb. She was focused, intent, cataloging my reaction, listening to my breaths and gasps. Using my legs, I pushed my pyjama bottoms to my ankles, then off one leg. Emmy lowered her pussy, it was wholly devoid of pubic hair, to my leg. Her cunt lips splayed open, her vagina flush to my shin, she rocked her sex on me in short hard motions, sliding easily; easily; she was soaking wet. She closed her eyes and teased her clit with a fingertip, lost in the sensations, breathing in a deep steady rhythm. Her breasts swelled, her nipples taut and hard. She was lost in a haze of pleasure. I lay there, staring as the most beautiful woman in the world.
After several minutes she arched her back and opened her eyes. She was having trouble focusing. She stared at my lips, then my eyes. Her mouth was ajar. She leaned forward, her breasts settled on my chest, she kissed me
"Daddy, it's time."
"Are you sure Emmy?"
"Oh yes Daddy, very sure."
She raised herself, took hold of my penis, and worked it up, down, and across her hairless slit. Finally she placed the head to her vagina and squirmed, getting used to the feeling, saying, as if to herself, "It's so big. So big. I can feel it on my cherry."
I don't know why I had not, til that moment, grasped that my daughter was a virgin. She'd insisted she was, but I'd concluded that a woman this popular, this beautiful, must have had sex. My first thought was to end this; I should not be the one to despoil my daughter. That thought was displaced by two others, one compassionate, one primal. How much they were genuine, how much rationalization, I'm not sure. The compassionate impulse: this was what my daughter wanted. To come this far and say no, to express doubt, would shame her. I'd sort out the consequences tomorrow, but tonight I was committed, I would make love to my daughter.
"It hurts Daddy. It burns."
As to the primal part: I looked at my daughter and felt a surging need to possess her. I wanted to be the first inside her, I wanted to claim what was mine. She'd been the center of my life for eighteen years. I'd raised her; sacrificed for her; loved her; I'd make her a woman. I wanted her virginity. She meant more to me than anything else in the world to me. I was the one to desecrate her perfect body, to forever mark her as mine.
For the moment compassion won. I took a deep breath, eased back, leaving only the tip of my cock in the soft wet mouth of her pussy.
"Take your time honey, go at your own pace."
Emmy rolled her hips against my cock, lowered herself, pushing her hymen against my dick. She winced, pain and determination on her face.
She raised herself, then lowered her body. Her cherry strained, the taut frail flesh bowing under the slow relentless pressure of my manhood. Emmy gritted her teeth, bracing for a spearing hot stab of pain. She was breathing heavily, pushing down.
"Daddy, it's starting to give way."
And then it tore. Emmy arched her back; pain fired through her body. I reached for her hips, held her up. Emmy placed her hands on mine and, taking deep long breaths, remained motionless. Gradually, her jaw, which had locked into place, relaxed and she carefully lowered herself, absorbing the rest of me into her body. Her motions were small, incremental, down an inch, up slightly, back down. When I was all the way inside her she closed her eyes, letting her vagina adjust. I reached up, ran a hand across her face, stopping at her lips. She kissed my fingers.
"I love you Emmy."
"I love you too Daddy. You're so big, but I like it, I like having you inside me."
I put my hands on her knees. She sighed; her belly trembled. After several minutes she began to rock back and forth. Her eyes were closed; she was focused on her groin, cataloging every sensation, the painful, the pleasurable. She wanted this moment engraved in her memory. Her breathing, which had spiked when I entered her, evened out. The tension in her arms and legs, which had gone taut when her cherry broke, receded. She placed a hand on my stomach and opened her eyes, looking into my face.
"Daddy, you feel good inside me, it's better than I imagined. I'm ready now Daddy, its time, time to fuck your baby girl."
At first we ground our groins against each other, our movements deliberate and careful. Emmy moaned; heat was spreading through her body. After several minutes Emmy, for the first time, raised herself, just an inch, and slid back down my dick.
She cooed, "Oh Daddy, this is not bad, not bad at all."
Slowly, inexplorably, we increased the length of our fuck strokes, moving more and more of my dick within her. Each stroke was long and slow, each one savored and enjoyed. My virginal daughter was wet and unbelievably tight; the snug sheath of cunt flesh massaged my dick. She worked her cunt muscles; squeezing, then relaxing her vagina. Emmy's breathing picked up and she bent forward, grinned. Her soft hair fell over my face; her breasts dragged across my chest; she moaned, kissed my lips, moved further forward. I kissed, then took a dark brown nipple into my mouth. Emmy twisted her body, offering me her other breast. I wrapped my lips around the areola. Emmy's pussy clamped down on my cock. I lashed the nipple with my tongue; her fuck-tunnel quivered. She dropped down, lay on top of me, her heavy slippery breasts sliding against my chest. I rolled my hips, mauling her clitoris with my pubic bone. She shivered, rasped, gulped down air. I grabbed her ass, forced her hips against mine, increasing the pressure on her clit.
Her lips parted; the tip of our tongues met. She sucked on my tongue; her tight virginal cunt massaged my penis. She sat back up, perched atop my body. I rotated my hips, moved my cock in circles within her. Emmy placed her hands on her thighs and matched her movements to mine.
I took hold of my daughter's breasts, kneading those extraordinary mounds. Emmy moaned. I roughly thumbed the swollen nipples. Her body spasmed and jerked. Her head tilted forward, her eyes smoldering with lewd desire.
"Daddy, this is what I've dreamed of for so long. It feels so good, so good to have you inside me. Daddy! You're doing it to me! Making me a woman! Making your baby girl a woman!"
I milked and squeezed her big tits, whirling my fingers on her nipples. Her back arched, her sweet young body straining in delight and anticipation. The quaking spasms in her pussy grew stronger, the pain of her violated cherry forgotten. She was writhing, welcoming each thrust.
"Fuck me! Oooh god Daddy, hammer your cock in me. It feels so good. I must have more. I want it all! I want everything, everything Daddy's dick can give me."
I loved it, loved the feeling of fully possessing my daughter.
"You like it, you like your father's cock?"
"Oh yes Daddy, I love it, I want it, I want it so bad. I love it, I love the way it hurt me, I love the way it fills me, I loved giving you my cherry, loved the exquisite delicious torture of you breaking my cherry! I never want to stop."
Emmy reached behind, cupped my balls. Her fingers were deft and the pleasure soared, racing towards an explosive intensity. I wouldn't last much longer. I clawed her breasts, pulled on the nipples. Emmy closed her eyes; her mouth was ajar, spit bubbled on her lips. She grabbed my hands, locking her fingers in mine, trapping my hands against her breasts.
"Oh Daddy, oh Daddy, oh Daddy, oh Daddy, oh Daddy, oh Daddy, oh Daddy, oh Daddy, oh Daddy, oh Daddy, Oh Daddy, oh Daddy, oh Daddy, oh Daddy, oh Daddy."
She let go of my hands, her arms flailed, and Emmy came, frenzied joy burst from her in an unworldly scream. Her pussy clenched, then rippled down the length of my cock. My balls retracted; I rapid-fired cum into her like liquid lightning bolts.
"I can feel it Daddy! Your cum. It's hot thick wonderful!"
Emmy fell forward. Heaving in air, her breasts pulsating on my chest, she savored the pleasure of her orgasm. Her eyes were closed. I put my arms around her, holding her to me. I kissed the side of her head. She was beautiful.
She opened her eyes, sighed, licked her lips. "Oh Daddy, you took my virginity. It was even better than I'd imagined. I love having your cum in me."
And, remarkably, despite my orgasm, I was still hard. It had been years since I'd come and stayed hard. I reached for her head, pulled her to me, kissed her.
"There's more Emmy. Lots more. I'm gonna fuck your sweet cunt full of it."
"That's what I want Daddy. More of you, more of your sweet cream, more of your cock. Pour it into me, Daddy, it feels so good. Now that you've come inside me it's not so tight. It makes your cock feel even better inside me. Don't stop Daddy, don't ever stop fucking me, making love to me."
I rolled her onto her back; we resumed fucking. We were no longer gentle; we were animals in heat, febrile in our need for each other, any lingering inhibitions had been drowned when I filled her with my seed. What remained was savage, far too long sublimated, need. Nothing mattered, not law or morality or ethics or traditions, but our craving for each other. I slammed into her; rutting, she pushed her hips into me. We were desperate horny animals, longing to merge our bodies, to surrender to our forbidden incestuous hunger.
My daughter growled, "Uhhhh....", craving the itching obscene force of another sweet climax pulsing through her like hot tingles of electricity. The part of me that wanted to possess my daughter, to claim her as my own, eclipsed everything else. I was pounding her, tearing into her virginal flesh. Emmy was as much a slave to her desire as I. Lust was boiling in her, her clit throbbed. She moaned and, staring heavy-lidded at me, said in a voice craven with need, "Harder Daddy, fuck me harder, make me yours."
Emmy's eyes glazed over. Spit dribbled from the corners of her mouth. She shivered; her pussy and tits ached with need. Her temples throbbed. Her nipples, pressed against my chest, swelled and ballooned, her belly knotted, her clit felt like it might explode. Pussy oil bubbled down her thighs. She drove her cunt onto my prick. She locked her legs around my waist; she dug her nails into my back.
Then she came. She said it was like a fist had plunged into her stomach. Her belly and bowels grew so tight she thought she might pee. She growled, peered at me though slitted eyes, and kept going, increasing the speed and strength of her thrusts onto my cock.
She came again, struck by a force that bordered on violent, that made it difficult to breathe. Her bones rattled; her mind filled with blinding shimmering lights. Emmy writhed; her clit threatened to explode; her tits felt like they might rip apart.
I was aroused beyond understanding and control, taking my daughter like an animal, stabbing her pussy with my prick, threatening to tear her apart with a fuck that approached brutal.
And still she urged me on, "Ohhhhhh, so good, Daddy. Fuck me, fuck me, fuck me."
I forced my cock deeper and deeper into her.
"Sweet fuckin' sexy bitch."
"Oh Daddy, yes Daddy, come inside me, give me your cum."
Then we were both there, propelled over the same edge, cresting together on the same mighty wave. I shoved into her, stiffened, exploded. Emmy came with me; the two of us yelped thrashed groaned. Finally I collapsed onto my daughter's body. She whispered, "Ohhhhhh Daddy, so good, so good."
I pulled my dripping cock from her trembling cunt, took my daughter's naked form in my arms, looked at her face, serene with joy. She was sweaty, exhausted, descending into a deep contented sleep. She still managed to say, "Best birthday ever."