A Week of June: Thursdaybycolumfa©
Author's Note: Thank you to everyone who wrote to me in support of my ongoing story. I apologize for the unseemly delay between installments. As you can imagine, I have been overwhelmingly busy for the last month. Please forgive me, and accept the following as my atonement...
I hardly slept Wednesday night. I tossed and turned in my steaming bed, the events of the day playing and replaying through my mind. Somehow, June had arranged for me to fuck a woman whose body mirrored hers to the smallest detail. Even more remarkable, she had manipulated that woman into pretending she was my daughter, so I could live out the whole of our twisted shared fantasy. Meanwhile, she had watched, masturbating the whole while.
When I finally fell fitfully asleep, I had a vivid dream. I was back at our old Westchester home, but it was eerily empty. I wandered through the rooms, some of them seeming familiar, others which had never been a part of that house, and yet, in dream logic, clearly belonged. I floated up the stairs, and down the hall, towards June's room. The door was open, and inside, on the bed, lay my daughter, naked, but not as she looked now. Rather she appeared the way I had seen her last, when she was fifteen. Less curvy, her breasts smaller, altogether somewhat gangly and awkward.
"C'mon Daddy. Fuck me. No strings attached."
Then I was right next to her bed, also naked, looking down on my child, my desire for her obvious in my groin. Now she appeared even younger, the twelve-year old who had witnessed her parents' fights and survived their divorce. Her chest was almost flat, except for two extended nipples. Her hips were still those of a child, straight and narrow; her vulva was crowned with only a few sparse hairs. I felt a revulsion at myself build up inside of me, a disgust at the betrayal of my inappropriate arousal.
"You can get back at mommy!" the girl June whispered, an immature stab at seduction, reaching up to grab my prick. I fought with myself, pulling myself away from the bed, when I suddenly heard hysterical laughter from the doorway. There stood Alice, shrieking with amusement, pointing at me. I looked back at June, now a five-year old girl grasping her father's enormous erection.
I jerked awake. Nausea crowded my throat, sweat pouring down my body. I fought back the urge to vomit, shaking there on my bed. I had never had such a visceral reaction to a nightmare before. Then, all of a sudden, I was aware of my poundingly hard erection. What was wrong with me?
June came into my room twenty minutes later. Today she was dressed in a see-through baby-doll and nothing else. Through the gauzy shift, the pinkness of her nipples taunted me, the achingly firm breasts mocked my desire, the little tuft of pubic hair giggled at my confusion. Inside the gorgeous eighteen-year old, I saw the fifteen-year old teenager, the twelve-year old girl, even the five-year old child. The antithetical responses raised in me left me once again speechless.
June settled onto the bed, sitting cross-legged. The hem of the baby-doll gathered in her lap, momentarily obscuring her pussy. Her hair was loose around her shoulders, falling in tresses and locks across her still sleepy face.
"We need to talk, Dad."
I forced my brain to start working again.
"Yes we do, June. This whole thing needs to stop. I should never have let it get going in the first place. But I guess I'm weak. From here on out, we will behave to each other like father and daughter, nothing more."
"That's one knee-jerk response, Dad," she replied, leaning back on her outstretched arms. The hem of the undergarment lifted, revealing her labia, spread open, the pink inside startlingly vivid. "But your cock is telling a different story." She gestured to where my erection was tenting the sheets.
"OK, I admit I'm torn. You know how I've responded to you. You are a very sexy, highly attractive young woman -"
"Well, thank you," she said, pretending to preen.
"Dammit, listen to me! You may be all of that, but you are also my daughter. I can't just jump into sex with my daughter. It's completely inappropriate."
"Daddy, listen to you. You were hardly reluctant with Helen yesterday, even after I made it clear that she was only standing in for me. Why don't you tell me the real reasons behind your ambivalence?"
I hesitated. Her eyes flashed. I couldn't help but feel admiration for this woman. She was perceptive well beyond her years. I looked down, humbled.
"You're right. You deserve that much anyway. You've been, well, almost completely up-front with me."
I paused, searched her face.
"There's so much history here, kid. First, there's the guilt I feel towards you because of breaking up with your mom. I - I guess I've never gotten over the feeling that I abandoned you six years ago. I know," I rushed on, forestalling her indignant objection, "I know, I wasn't the one who kept us from seeing each other. That crime lies entirely with your mother. But I have to share responsibility for our marriage not working out."
"Are you crazy?" June sputtered. "I know what she did to you, how she treated you. She's pathologically incapable of a committed relationship. The wonder is that you didn't leave her earlier. I hold no blame against you for that. Or, at least, not now, now that I'm old enough to understand what you went through."
"Honey, it's not that I'm worried that I'm attracted to you in order to make up for my guilt. No, I'm worried that if something should happen down the line to destroy our relationship, the fresh abandonment will kill you, me, or both of us. I don't think I could stand to be parted from you again."
She looked solemn, thinking this over. I wanted to reach out to her, to hold her, to comfort her. But I had more to say, stuff that was even more difficult.
"Also, I'm worried that by sleeping with you, I'd be seeking revenge on your mother."
She blinked, bit back a quick response, looked down. I imagined she was on the verge of saying that the same feelings had occurred to her.
"Do you see how destructive that would be? How our love for each other would be betrayed by that lie? If that were the case, even in the tiniest part, we would inevitably be torn apart, forever separated. I don't know if I can risk that. No matter how much I'm attracted to you."
She looked a little shaken, the depth of my emotions clear to her. A tear brimmed over her eye.
"And look, last, I'm very worried about what you expect from this proposed relationship. I'm twenty-six years older than you. I can't have any more children. You must have hopes and dreams of a family, or at least a relationship with a man who won't need a walker when you're still young. You need to define this situation for me more clearly."
She perked up at this last statement. This, at least, she could address.
"Oh, Daddy, silly. I'm not looking to get married to you. All I meant by what I said yesterday was that I don't want a slam-bam-thank-you-ma'am thing here. I want something that will always be there for me, a solid rock, something I can build my life on. I'm not planning on stopping dating or anything foolish like that, and I wouldn't expect you to do so either."
"I'm relieved!" I replied. "But listen, you've got to give me some room to think about all of this. How can I formulate my thoughts when you're constantly flaunting yourself at me?"
"No, no, no. I can't do that, my sweets," she said flirtingly. "I won't stop until you tell me you don't want any of this," cupping her breasts through the baby doll, making the nipples poke out at me invitingly. "Until then, it's my job to make you understand exactly what I'm offering you. If that wears your resistance down, all the better. After all, I've made up my mind!" She stood up, and walked to the door. There she paused, looked over her shoulder at me, winked, and wiggled her delectable butt at me, before leaving.
All morning long, June teased me in any way she could think of. She would brush up against me, her heavy breasts dragging along my arm, the hot nipples leaving impressions of themselves on the bare skin of my back. At breakfast she sat reading the paper, her legs spread, one finger idly dipping into her honeypot. I couldn't keep my eyes off of her. She somehow knew when I was watching, because at one point she deliberately sucked her finger clean.
All I knew was that I was walking around with a permanent hard-on. Finally I gave up trying to conceal it. I was distracted enough as it was, without pretending to be unaware of her displays. So I went into my room and put on my silk kimono. My erection jutted out the front, and waggled before me as I walked, but I ignored the ridiculous nature of my situation and focused on finding a solution to it. Of course, that was next to impossible with June calling attention to it whenever she could.
"I know it's hard to make this decision, but you've just got to steel yourself, put yourself to the sticking point..." and so on, all the while giggling madly.
So I went to take a shower. Big mistake.
Barely two minutes in the tub, with my head firmly under the stinging spray, I heard the voice of my daughter right next to me.
"Want me to wash your back?" I jumped, easily three feet into the air. She was standing in the tub, just behind me, her baby-doll discarded, nonchalantly nude. She gestured to the soap.
"Jesus, June, is there no privacy in this apartment?"
"Well, you could have locked the door to the bathroom if you wanted privacy," was the ultra logical rejoinder. I stared at her.
"Maybe you're trying to tell yourself something, hmmm?" She stepped closer, her flat tummy just inches away from my projecting cock. "Now, turn around like a good boy."
I followed her command, numbly. My mind raced as I felt her hands, covered with suds, begin to rub circles across my shoulders. My muscles began to relax under her soothing caress. Without realizing it, I had been clenched all morning long, fighting my internal battles. Her touch was a balm to my aching spirit, bringing my mind into alignment. Whatever else was going on here, this much couldn't be wrong. Nothing this good could be wrong.
My whole being shrank down to the interface of her fingers and my skin. My eyes closed, my ears filled with the sounds of the rushing water, I shut down all other senses and surrendered myself to her massage.
Her cleansing hands reached lower, now washing my lower back clean. As with the body, so with the soul. All the unclean feelings, the self-revulsion, washed away. I was baptised, reborn in the water of the shower, brought back to the embrace of holiness by the sacrosanct hand of my daughter.
It was natural, then, so reasonable when her hands crossed the line between back and buttock, stepped over the boundary between ablution and seduction. Her gentle hands felt so right where they were, massaging my butt, kneading the muscles. Unconsciously I spread my legs, providing support as well as access to more private areas.
She took the invitation, her soapy hands delving down between my cheeks. Her fingers played along the skin hidden in the cleft, caressing over my anus. That sensitive piece of skin assumed a position of utmost importance in my sensation. I felt every millimeter of her fingertips as they circled the aperture, gradually approaching the opening. Finally, with one finger, lubricated with soap, she pushed through. Gratefully, the muscles surrounding welcomed her in, first to one joint, then the next.
The invasion caused my already iron erection to jump forward, the stimulation to my pleasure centers so needed, so long desired from my seductress. The inward movement continued, seeming to last forever, each iota of motion delivering a lifetime of eroticism. If I gasped or moaned, I was unaware. All I could hear was the roaring sound that could have been the shower, or might have been my own blood rushing through my ears. I concentrated with all of my might on that single digit, possessing me, claiming me for its own. Finally, her finger was deep-seated within me, her knuckles pressed up against my ass. She rotated her hand, sweeping around the circumference of my rectum. As it passed across my prostate, I could take it no longer, my excitement rising up like a tidal wave, sweeping me off of my feet. My cock jerked, spasming out ropes of semen against the shower curtain. My knees trembled; I felt suspended by her finger, kept upright only by her will. Never before had I erupted with such force from such little physical stimulation.
She slowly withdrew her finger. I collapsed, sinking to my knees, as in prayer. I bowed my head. My defeat was complete. I was hers. But when I looked up at her through the misty spray of the steam, a beatific expression shone from her face. My angel. My goddess. I worshipped her.
We lay on my bed, facing each other. Now that I had given in, I couldn't get enough of her. My hands roamed over her body, exploring it all. I had to know every inch of her with the intimacy that only touch can bring. Her pretty, pretty face, so familiar to me, now in repose, content, relaxed. Her graceful neck, her shoulders, down her arms to her delicate fingers. Her breasts, those remarkable tools of seduction; how she had used them on me from the first moment we saw each other in the train station! And her nipples, seemingly always erect, the corrugations of her areolas, the pink flesh screaming to be suckled. Her flat stomach, so strong, so firm, the curves of her waist and hips. I ran my fingers down her sides, gliding over her skin so easily, memorizing the feeling of touching her.
She smiled at me, giving me permission to explore all of her. She lifted one leg up, and I continued my caresses to her pussy, that naked center of desire, formed with only one purpose, and that was to seal my destiny. Her lips were spread, accepting the heat of the moment; I felt her wetness, her arousal. My fingers on her sex, her father's fingers on her sex, caused her to gasp.
I watched her eyes flutter, then open again, fixed on mine, her triumph evident, but tempered with love, with tender love. I continued to stroke her pussy, feeling the length of her, the slipperiness. Then, one finger dared to brave the center, to foray inward. Although I had felt her twice before, this time felt like virginity all over again. The breathlessness, the excitement, the fear. Before, all I had felt was lust. Now, I was bound to June, committed to her.
Her cunt swallowed my finger, gently enclosing it in the smoothness of her interior. Rippling, her internal musculature gripped me, drawing me inward. I rested my palm over her pussy, and started to apply some pressure to her clit. My desire for her was renewed, evident once more in my cock, extending again towards her, eager to make contact.
Her breathing deepened, and she started to vocalize her excitement, with little moans on each breath. Rhythmically, I penetrated her with my finger, seeking to increase her arousal. Her sexy gasps, her closed eyes, the way she bit lightly on her lip, all combined with the fact that she was my daughter, excited me as well. As focused as I had been in the shower on her finger, so was she now on mine.
And when her orgasm hit, the silent intensity of it rocked me. Her body arched, her cunt forced itself fully onto me. Her fulfillment was so obvious, so complete, that I could not help but feel that her instincts towards me were true. As she came down from her climax, she kept her eyes closed, her hand on top of mine, keeping me still, but keeping me within her as well. Finally, she opened her eyes, and let out a sexy sigh.
"Ohhhh... That was good. That was better than good. As good as I had imagined it to be."
I smiled at her. My love was without limits, unconfinable. My finger craved the warmth of its haven.
"Leave it there. I need you there for a while. We need to talk about something."
"I don't believe that you are enacting your revenge on Mom with this, but what I'm going to tell you might make you want to. I want you to promise to do nothing to her. Let our bond be punishment to her."
"What are you talking about?"
She held my eyes steadily. Her pussy continued to spasm around my finger every few seconds.
"All right, I promise."
"Good. This is going to be hard for me to talk about. I'm glad I have you with me, and I'm glad you're the first person I'm telling. I told you before how I was aware of how Mom was treating you since I was eight years old. The reason is that I caught her with some guy, in your bed."
She was talking in a low voice, almost monotone. I was hardly surprised at this revelation, but she went on.
"I had come home from school, dropped off by Jenny Alberts' Mom. I had gotten myself a snack, and I brought it upstairs to my room, when I heard noises coming from your bedroom. Of course, I didn't know what they were. In fact, it kind of sounded like Mom was in pain. So I went in to find out what the matter was. And there she was, naked, riding some guy's dick. I was in shock. So was the guy, I guess, 'cause he made like he wanted to get up. But Mom just laughed, and pushed him back onto the bed, laughing. I ran out, back to my room and slammed the door. I had a vague idea of what she was doing, and it hurt me, because I knew she was being unfaithful to you.
"Later, she came up to my room, in just a silk dressing gown and sat down on my bed. She threatened me with all kinds of punishments if I told you, but the one that hit home the worst was that she would leave you and me. Then she left, and I broke into tears. In my mind, if I revealed her lies to you, I would be responsible for making you guys get divorced. So I kept quiet when you came home. And the fact that I didn't tell you then sealed my mouth forever.
"But that wasn't all. From then on, Mom seemed to want to get caught by me. I would find her fucking some new stranger anywhere in the house. In the living room; by the pool; once I even caught her in my bed! My goddamned bed, with some nothing guy she must have picked up off the street. I wanted to burn my sheets, destroy the bed for being the site of her fucking betrayal. And the worst of it was that she seemed to enjoy being caught, that it was exciting to her that her own daughter be complicit in the destruction of her marriage. And complicit I was, because every time I saw her fucking, and every time I didn't tell you, bound me closer and closer to her."
She fell silent. I felt sick to my stomach, my former arousal vanished. I hoped our intimate connection of finger to vagina brought her comfort. It did to me, to know that I had an anchor in the midst of this vast sea of horrifying disclosure. Of course I didn't blame June for not telling me, and I was about to let her know, when she seemed to screw up her courage further.
"You know, I found out a lot about sex by 'discovering' Mom in the midst of it. You see, this went on for years. And as I started to go through puberty, my natural curiosity would often overcome my revulsion for what she was doing. Also, it started to seem natural to find Mom naked with a guy's erection in her mouth, or her twat, or wherever it was. So I started to watch her instead of just running away. This was around when I was eleven, I guess. I would come home to hear her rutting away in the kitchen, and I would walk in, get some chips or something, and sit down and watch.
"Sounds fucking twisted now, but then I was unaware how weird the whole thing was. And Mom obviously dug the fact that I was watching. She would perform for me, show off her technique, demonstrate how to go down on someone, how to bring a guy off with style. She would keep up a running commentary, as long as her mouth wasn't full. I saw her blow guys, fuck guys in any position, take it up the ass, whatever. The guys were just fucktoys to her. Maybe she thought she was doing me a favor, educating me. Whatever.