A Lost Daughter Ch. 12

I was tensing and holding my orgasm to coincide with her final exhale, knowing that watching Sienna's swollen pink lips blowing a torrent of smoke would be the perfect way to cap off this wonderful event. Sienna—never missing an opportunity to surpass my expectations—knew what would be even more perfect. As she ground her pelvis into me and effectively planted my cock as deeply into her as possible, she bent down and locked her lips over my mouth. Her tongue frantically dug around to meet its dance partner, which I quickly arranged.

Once our tongues were twirling around one another I savored the ashy flavor of her tongue mixed with the minty tobacco of her breath as we kissed. My muscles tightened and I began ejaculating into Sienna's womb, aided by the continued motion of her grinding hips that felt like she was milking my seed with every gyration. The overwhelming toxicity of her breath was palpable, as the smoke poured from her body into my own and lightly burned my nose and throat. While somewhat unpleasant the fact that it was coming secondhand from the mouth and lungs of my beloved daughter made it even more stimulating.

While it may have been harsh for me to breath second hand, I could only imagine what it was doing to her healthy young body as she chained her way through pack after pack. These final thoughts of debasement propelled to the conclusion of my climax and I finally felt my body relax and my phallus stop spasming. We continued kissing for a while, transitioning from deep tongue kisses to soft, wet kisses where I suckled and slurped on her impossibly plump lips. The fact that she never stopped tasting like ash wasn't lost on me and compelled me to continue tasting her until I heard the bathroom door open.

"I can't leave you two alone, can I?" Amber joked, the fragrant smells of the shower wafting in and reminding me that I should follow suit—especially now.

I smiled and laughed but it was Sienna who had a verbal response.

"I'll never stop, I belong to him and anytime I can take his cock or his cum I will. And I will never apologize for it," she stated plainly, clearly not sensing the humor in Amber's voice.

"Is that so?" Amber replied, a familiar mischievousness to her tone.

"Yes, it is," Sienna replied flatly.

"Hmm, but do you love him? And not in the way that a daughter loves her father but the way a lover feels about their partner?" Amber pressed curiously.

"Yes," came Sienna's instantaneous reply.

I was far too fuzzy-headed to really understand Amber's motives here, which I was rarely equipped to anticipate on my best days, but it was an interesting line of questioning nonetheless. I was suddenly aware that I hadn't considered this distinction in how I felt about Sienna or how she might feel about me. I was right in the middle of deciding my opinion on it when Amber continued.

"So, he's not just your father or your sexual partner but your lover and friend? The person you feel closest to, who's most important—the one that completes you as a person? Is that what you're saying?" Amber clarified, her motive remaining elusive.

"Yes, yes, all of it yes. Why are you asking me this? Are you testing me or something?" Sienna shot back.

"Because that's what I have with your father. After all the sex and drugs and crazy shit we do the most important thing to me is and will always be our partnership, our lives together. When everything else fades away and it's just the two of us, no distractions or motives or primal urges, and our souls merge and we just are," Amber explained, an unexpectedly heartfelt and moving declaration of love while I lay on the bed with my cum leaking out of Sienna's pussy.

For a moment, all parties were silent. But eventually Sienna's face turned from Amber back to me, analyzing my face with a searching gaze. As her eyes locked with my own I detected a familiar knowing, eerily reminiscent of the one I saw on Amber that morning. She leaned down, taking my face in her hands and kissing me, nibbling on my lips and then moving on to various places all over my face. Soft little kisses that dotted my skin with touches of her saliva and made the hairs on the top of my head tingle with an incredible sense of peace.

She completed her display of affection with one final kiss on my lips—a hard, purposeful pressure intended to convey more than just physical affection.

She broke the kiss slowly, allowing the pressure of her mouth on mine to decrease bit by bit until there was nothing there.

I opened my eyes, not even really realizing that I had closed them in the first place and stared at my daughter.

Her face was still only inches away, so that all I could see were her deeply expressive hazel eyes peering into my soul. Her breath was warm and comforting as it tickled my upper lip and her hands remained plastered to the sides of my face while her thumbs gently massaged my cheeks.

"I know how I feel, I hope you know too," she whispered to me, her eyes tracing my expression.

My heart seemed to catch in my throat as I felt a stinging at the corners of my eyes. Perhaps I had not considered the exact nature of my love for this woman, but it seemed that Sienna very clearly had. My heart—my whole heart had been Amber's since I was 15 years old. I didn't even consider that there would be room for anyone else in my life or that I would ever be faced with such a consideration. Was I in love with Sienna? Was I okay with Sienna being in love with me? I wasn't sure I could honestly answer these questions at this moment, but the pleading eyes of the beautiful woman peering down at me clearly wanted me to.

"I do, I don't think I did before, but I do now," I answered.

Her expression shifted in a way that I couldn't describe, the thoughts and feelings prompting it unreadable to me.

"I know you'll probably never love me like you love mom," she breathed.

My heart dropped a few floors and the stinging in my eyes intensified to propel two single tears to trickle down both sides of my face and trickle down to my temples.

I felt so many things in that moment, but I was unsure of what words I could use to describe them.

"I love you differently, but I don't love you less. Every love is unique because it molds and shapes to that person, and the love I feel for you is something I only feel for you. You are my daughter, you are my lover, you are my friend," I described honestly.

"And mom is your wife, and your soulmate," she replied, trying hard but failing to hide her disappointment.

I searched for the words, but I couldn't find the ones that would completely satisfy the questions she had. My eyes continued to sting, and I felt every fiber of my being cry out for me to hold her and hug her and kiss her but knew none of those things would take away the feelings of hurt and confusion she was feeling.

"I want to be your woman, not just your daughter or your property or a part of this crazy whatever-it-is we got going on," she paused, flinging her hands up in an exasperated attempt to properly identify our current arrangement.

"Drug-fueled, incestuous partnership of hedonistic defilement and perversion," Amber assisted from the closet.

"That," Sienna replied, jabbing her pointer finger in Amber's direction, "and I think there's room for more than just mom in that role. We don't have a traditional father daughter relationship, obviously, so why do we need to limit ourselves to a traditional idea of marriage or intimacy? Yeah, I'm still a kid and you probably don't really believe that I know how I feel or what I want but you guys did, right?" Sienna asked while pausing to sit up and allow Amber and I to nod in agreement.

"Did you really not feel what I felt a moment ago? When you searched my eyes did you feel something different than when you look at mom? You say you love us differently, but do you? Really?" she asked.

Amber was now sitting on the side of the bed, looking at me with sad eyes and a sympathetic expression. She reached her hand out and I extended my arm to hold her hand in mine. Her eyes searched my face for answers, clues about how I was feeling or what I would say. I saw in her eyes the same longing, love, and devotion that I had seen all morning long—regardless of which of these two women I was looking at.

"I guess...," I paused, searching my mind for conflicting evidence, "I don't," I finished.

Both women smiled, almost mirror images of each other.

Sienna began kissing me again, this time an excited happy display of affection complete with 'smooching' sound effects and 'mmmm' noises. I felt Amber kiss the back of my hand and hold it up to her face, rubbing it softly against her smooth cheek and making similar humming noises of contentedness. I had just gone from having a wife and a mistress/plaything that also happened to be my daughter to having two equal partners in simultaneously committed relationships.

"I wish you could marry us both," Sienna chirped in-between enthusiastic kissing.

"We could become polygamists," Amber suggested in a tone I wasn't sure was joking.

"You're still my daughter, so I don't think any legal acknowledgement of our relationship is in the cards," I cautioned, unsure of how serious they were and wanting to temper expectations with reality before it got out of hand.

"Well, we could have our own private ceremony and we could still exchange rings and call each other husband and wife, right?" Sienna proposed, her persistence seeming to confirm her seriousness.

"I don't see why not?" Amber replied.

I considered it a moment before rejecting it outright, my initial impulse, and softened my position a little.

"I might be okay with it if we were careful and we weren't advertising it to people who could get us into trouble. But we can continue this discussion after we do what we have to do today, right?" I tempted, knowing that all I had to do was remind these two drug-crazed women that they currently had no drugs.

"Okay, but it's important to me and I want you to take it seriously," Sienna replied sternly, surprising me with her focus despite no doubt fiending.

"I promise, I do," I acknowledged genuinely.

Finally, Sienna regained her smile and nodded her head happily.

"Okay darling, thank you. I love you," she paused, locking eyes with me lovingly before jumping up and trotting over to where she'd dropped her lighter on the ground.

I had to admit, it was somewhat strange hearing her call me 'darling' and offer the kind of casual 'I love you' that becomes so reflexive in long-term relationships. Despite the initial peculiarity of it, I can't say I also didn't enjoy it. Why should there be invisible lines in the sand to differentiate my love between these two wonderful women? I was as committed to being with them, caring for them, and loving them—both of them—as I was physically and emotionally able. Daughter, wife, whatever—these were my women, my partners, my soulmates.

Strange that after all the moral and ethical taboos I'd broken that the conventional idea of commitment and marriage could still be so hard to shed.

Our drive was filled with excited discussion and lofty ideas from my two 'wives.' I was rarely tapped for input, despite being front and center in their plans. It didn't bother me though, as I knew that any wish that I verbalized would hold invaluable weight and importance. I actually enjoyed my wife assisting my 'fiancé' with her wedding arrangements and offering advice and tips and ideas despite the 'groom' being the same man she was currently married to. If I hadn't been so completely desensitized to the insanity of my life it could have been jarring, but we'd passed the sign on the road to 'Bizarro-Land' long ago.

Making it perhaps even more insane, was the fact that we were now heading to a drug dealer's house to exchange meth for sex with my daughter—now fiancé—footing the bill while I watched. I told myself that I was still a relatively normal guy that just had the luck of some strange kinks and the women to pursue them with—but that was getting harder and harder to believe.

I had worked at the same grocery store for over 15 years. I had never been high in my life and had only slept with 2 women in my 36 years—I was also on my way to pick up meth and use my daughter to pay for it. Which I would then reward her for by giving her said meth and marrying her. I stifled a laugh, playing it off as a cough—neither woman noticing as the sound of wedding bells in their heads drowned out the world around them.

We pulled into the parking lot that I had identified on Google maps to be the best mix of convenience and discretion. It was about five blocks away with enough restaurants and stores around to shielded my car from garnering unwanted attention or suspicion. I punched in my parking spot and fed the $20 bill into the parking meter and it spat out a little white ticket that I placed on my dash.

Sienna and Amber were smoking feverishly and shivering, their shoulders tight and their arms clutched to their sides.

"I don't think I'd make it as a real prostitute, unless I could wear sweatpants and a sweatshirt—and maybe gloves," Sienna joked, taking a shaky drag from her Newport.

"I'd never let you be a streetwalker, don't worry," I assured, wrapping my arm around her while doing the same with Amber on my other side.

"I know you wouldn't darling," she replied, leaning into me for warmth.

I stifled my impulse to advise caution about our behavior in public, noting her loose usage of 'darling' as being capable of introducing us to some pretty uncomfortable consequences. It was a dreary overcast day and we were in a part of the city that attracted the less-upstanding members of society, so I didn't expect to run into Mr. and Mrs. Moral Crusader—I figured I could relax a bit. We walked briskly toward Kevin's place, covering the 5 blocks quickly as the cold air whipped our faces.

The house was a boxy two story next to an abandoned building that was too long past it's 'use by' date to discern what it was when it was actually operating. I guessed an office or commercial building of some sort but the boarded windows and doors and graphitti made it impossible to tell. Kevin's house was a pale yellow that had faded badly and had a big window visible on the bottom floor that was covered by a blanket from the inside. The above window was open and functional but too high to see into from the street. Leading up to the screen door was a series of three stone steps flanked by two rectangles of dirt that would've normally had plants or flowers but instead contained hundreds of cigarette butts.

It was about what I expected—maybe even a bit better—but it was still a place I'd rather not have to visit for any reason. Unfortunately, it was precisely where we needed to go. I started up the steps and could already see inside through the screen door, although the lighting was low enough that I couldn't make anything out aside from shadowy outlines. I knocked on the frame of the door and waited, hearing rustling and murmuring from beyond my vision. Eventually a man that I recognized as Kevin emerged from a door in the hall and made his way toward me.

"Back in the projects!" He exclaimed as he opened the door.

"Yep, we sure are," I said, remembering my days as a teenager in his last house.

"Alright, so I have your shit, it's all bagged up and ready for you, and I have your 'clientele' ready to see you, all that's left is for you to head up to your room and get comfortable. Ya'll ready to do some business?" he asked, slapping his hands together and rubbing them in exactly the kind of unsavory manner that I would expect.

I looked to Sienna and Amber, who both nodded. Sienna and I began heading for the stairs but Amber hesitated, prompting me to look back at her.

"You coming?" I asked.

"I was thinking I could sample some of the merchandise while you two are up there taking care of business," she suggested, eyes darting to Kevin and then back to me.

"Sure, you can have a seat over on that couch over there and I'll grab you whatever you want," Kevin replied exuberantly, knowing that he was still going to get the better end of this deal.

"Alright babe, but if you need anything—" I began, only to be interrupted.

"Don't worry, this ain't my first rodeo, remember? Go have fun and watch over our little girl. I'll be fine," she reassured.

I kissed her and exchanged I love you's and then went our separate ways.

At the top of the stairs were three doors and a small landing, no hallway or common space to speak of. The three doors led to one bedroom, one bathroom and a small closet. We proceeded into the bedroom and sat on the bed. It was a squeaky twin, complete with sweat stains and a cheap box spring. It sat within a surprisingly ornate wooden bed frame that looked like it had sat out in the rain for a couple of weeks before someone brought it back in and tried to use it again—probably not far from the truth. The headboard was painted white with chipping paint and some signs of warping but still mostly intact. The footboard, on the other hand, was cracked badly and the posts that stood at the corners looked like they had been gnawed on by a giant gerbil.

"Classy," Sienna commented, running her hand along the chewed wood.

"I hope whoever did that isn't one of your 'clientele,'" I joked, borrowing Kevin's ridiculous terminology and 'bro' accent.

Sienna snorted and laughed, a genuine and hearty sound that made us both feel a bit more at ease.

A knock on the door broke our moment of brevity.

I moved from the bed to a chair that had been placed in the front corner of the room, likely specifically for me. It was a thin metal-framed chair with blue nylon cushions covering the two detached sections that made up the seat and back rest. It looked to be from a cheap dining set from the 80's and felt about as comfortable.

The door pressed open and the first 'customer' was revealed. A tall, gangly fellow with greasy, matted grey hair and thick lensed glasses. He wore a stained wife-beater and blue overalls and some light brown work boots. His mouth hung agape in a rather sloppy fashion, revealing the sorry state of his oral hygiene and several missing teeth. His face was covered in grey stubble that appeared to have the consistency of sandpaper and his eyes were a drained, tired looking blue that held no shimmer or spark.

"So, you just watch, right?" He asked, motioning to me.

"And step in if you do something she doesn't like," I added.

He probably had me by about 3 inches and 20lbs, but I was confident that I could bash this guy's skull in before he even knew what was happening. He appeared to have the physical explosiveness of a wet fart.

He stared at me for a moment, perhaps sizing me up or perhaps testing my resolve. When I met his gaze, he nodded and began unclasping his overalls.

"Never met a whore with two pimps," he muttered, half to himself.

I ignored his comment and tried to enjoy what I was about to witness.

Sure, he was a disgusting specimen and I felt some sympathy for Sienna for needing to have anything to do with him, but there also something strangely arousing about it. The difference between them, the gangly old troll and the pristine 18-year old beauty—it was a further defilement that I relished. Her flawless youth and relative purity being slathered on by this greasy troglodyte—it was profane in a most pleasing way. I struggled to contain my anticipation and tried to focus on being supportive for Sienna's sake.

His overalls dropped to the floor unceremoniously, the clasps having been undone. Underneath was a white-ish pair of standard briefs bearing the name 'Hanes,' and some grey tube socks reaching halfway to his knees.