Her Father's Queen

Pretty soon, the two tongues of father and daughter were dancing a mad rhythm of love and life. They had their hands wrapped around each other, and he could sense that she had nothing on underneath the gown that she was wearing. He drew his hand along the outline of the crack of her ass, noticing with pleasure that the cloth was damp. He could feel the heat emanating from her virginal hole.

So caught up in their kiss were they that neither of the two lovers noticed it when it began to rain - the observation came only later, when they had finished their first kiss. The Princess looked shyly at her father, kissed him on the tip of his nose and then, giggling, ran from his arms into the dry bedroom.

The King stood outside for just a couple of seconds more, allowing the drizzle to wet him as he thanked God for the gift that he had been given. He rushed in after his new Queen.

Princess Marie-Vigneta had her back to him, a white expanse of skin exposed by her having pulled all her hair over one shoulder so as to towel the glistening sparkles of water off. She could see him in the full-length mirror as he approached her from behind, slowly letting his hands onto her hips as he craned his neck in to kiss her nape.

Marie arched back into her father's body as she felt his mouth kiss her skin, the touch as erotic and amazing a thing as she had ever experienced. Her knees were starting to go weak, and she was conscious of the heavy thumping beat of her heart. She let her hands reach over her head and cupped his cheeks, gently rubbing against them as he kissed his way down to the top of her dress.

The buttons of her dress, in the style of the day, were in the front. The King, not even looking up from his oral caresses of her skin, did not seem to exercise any control over his hands as they flew from button to button, undoing them in a matter of seconds. As soon as the button just beneath her breasts was undone, the gown slid down, past her smooth legs, past her ankles, to settle as a circular pile at her feet.

Marie-Vigneta moaned loudly as her father's kisses continued downwards, towards the small of her back while his hands started to systematically massage her breasts into submission. He teased her nipples, encouraged by her moans of pleasure. She responded by moaning even more.

The King traced her back down to her waist, and then turned her around. He had had only a momentary glimpse of her nude self; now, in the intimacy of their promises, he was able to drink in the sight of unadulterated beauty that his daughter was personifying. He particularly liked the way her nipples stood out prominently, defying every one as if to say that they could never be subdued.

Being a man who could resist few challenges, the King lowered his face into his daughter's bosom. He placed a bud between his teeth, gingerly clamping down on the darkly hued pink nipple with an equally toned areola. Marie had her hands around his head, pushing him even more into her chest. The large walls echoed her moans as she arched her head back in abandoned joy.

As soon as he was done with one breast of hers, the King carried her over to the bed and placed her delicately on the satin bedspread. In the blink of an eye, while his daughter reclined on her back and watched, he whipped off his nightclothes and jumped on top of her willing body. He took into his mouth the other breast.

It had taken Princess Marie-Vigneta all her willpower not to orgasm the first time - but as her father's ceaseless ministrations of her breast increased in intensity, the young woman could hold on no longer. Her body jerked violently as she came, her uncharted womb spraying out her juices. The experienced King lost no time in using his hands to facilitate her orgasm...

"Don't you know it's not proper to leave a pregnant woman all alone in bed when she wakes up?" I jumped at the sudden interruption of my reading.

Feminine hands hugged me from behind, the strong scent of the woman who was carrying my baby wafting in through my nostrils. I allowed for a moment of the lazy embrace, then held her hand and circled it around my head, leading her to my front. She was naked, the body fresh after the hour or so of sleep that she had had.

"I am so sorry, baby," I apologized as she sat down on my lap. The tent of my shorts almost entered her pussy, and she grinned at me as she felt it. She straddled my waist, as if she was hell-bent on getting my hard-on into her, shorts et al, and threw her arms over my shoulder. "Humm! What were you reading, Daddy?"

I caught my daughter's waist and pulled her as close as the six-month large belly could allow. I kissed her on her lips languidly, and we just sat there tonguing each other for some time before I answered her question. "It's an old manuscript I dug up from your grandfather's collection. Apparently, it dates back to the time when our ancestors were the rulers."

"Cool," she said, "But that doesn't quite explain the hard-on you've got below me, unless of course you were thinking about waking me up."

I explained to her, as briefly as I could, the plot of the account, written in third person. "Apparently," I deduced, "It must have been a courtier or someone in the royal service who wrote this - the events are too well-detailed to be conjecture, but the explicit love depicted points to a person with the gift of the ability to convert imagination into words; it is too prosaic to be an autobiographical work."

My daughter Annie took the book from my hands and threw it onto the seat of the next chair. "Well, lover boy," she said huskily, "We've got one more hour until Mom and Gramps get home from mass. Any ideas?"

"Many," I replied, grinning so wide that the sides of my mouth started to hurt, "The question is, where do I start?"

Annie stood up, the necklace with the cross on her neck a reminder of the obscene fact that my daughter faked her morning sickness just so that we could make love once again. I wouldn't complain - hell, I don't even know if I could have kept my incestuous hands off her even in the house of the Lord.

We walked hand in hand the few steps it took to get to the bedroom. It had been a big library in my grandfather's time, but since then had been divided into two - the bedroom where we were heading, and the study wherein I had been reading. My daughter laid herself flat on the bed, spreading her legs for an offer I couldn't refuse.

I started to lower my face to her warm snatch, already wet, but she protested. "Not again, Daddy! You just drank my entire stuff an hour ago - I need some nourishment too, you know." She pointed to my erect dick, sending the clearest of signals that she wanted me to enter her.

If a father can't oblige his daughter, then I ask you, whom should he oblige?

In return, I pointed at her bulging stomach. "In that case, YOU get on top of me."

She grinned as I laid down beside her, and lost no time in hoisting herself onto my cock. It slid into the warm confines of the dripping pussy, careful not to be too rough and get kicked out. Annie rocked gently on top of me, no doubt savoring the feel of flesh against flesh as I was. She wasn't as tight as she had once been, but at seven months, you don't expect a pussy as tight as a virgin's. It felt just as sexy, if not better!

I blew my load inside her in less than half an hour, during which time she had already shuddered to peaks twice. Exhausted after the third one, she collapsed on top of me, and kissed me gently. I fondled her breasts lovingly, two globes that had already started to swell, and she moaned as she ground her pelvis even harder against mine.

I slid underneath her until I was positioned directly beneath her tits, and started to suckle on them, one by one. Automatically, she moved onto her back, giving me greater access to the hard nubs atop her firm mounds. I took care to see that I wasn't putting any pressure on her belly; I was just as concerned for our child as my daughter was.

Just as I brought her off with my tit-sucking mouth for the fourth time, I heard the unmistakable sound of a big car pulling into the driveway. Damn! I hadn't expected the Mass to disperse this early! Consoling my recovering daughter with a kiss on her forehead, I walked into the study, where my clothes had been dumped by the door as soon as my wife and my parents had walked out.

I put on my pants, not wanting to bother with the underwear. Naughtily, I decided not to separate my clothes from my daughter's - I wanted to flaunt the active love-life that my daughter and I were sharing.

It's so much better to call it a love-life rather than a sex-life. Sex-life implies... well, sex. What my daughter and I had was love. We made love everytime we even looked at each other. We made love even with just our eyes.

Still, it would be unwise to leave them by the door - it was too risky, for someone could trip and fall down. "Coming," I shouted as the chimes of the doorbell rang out, signifying the rest of my acquiescent family at the door.

As I dumped the rest of the clothes, my eyes fell on the manuscript I had been reading. Just out of curiosity, I picked it up and turned to the last page, searching for the author.

There, below the last line that ended with "... the new Crown Prince was born exactly nine months after the King married Princess Marie-Vigneta," was the scrawled signature of its author.

"Marie-Vigneta."