Blurred Lines

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

No more pretending, hey hey hey

Cause now you winnin', hey hey hey

Here's our beginning.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"What the fuck are you? You're a fucking rapist, you're disgusting."

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

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

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

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

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

"Hey," she said. I replied with the same.

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

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

"That was messed up."

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

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

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

"I'm so sorry. It was the worst thing a father can do, I just..."

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

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

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

"I walked into the house, early from work, and I saw you and your friend..."

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

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

She smiled, "You liked that?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

She swallowed, "I guess I'm trying to say you were good. You were really good."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

I nodded, "Never."

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

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

I nodded, "Anything, hun. Whatever you want."

She thought for a moment.

"Do you think I'm as pretty as the girl in that video?"

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

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

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

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