Breaking Amy

She was flat against the floor, an arm draped over her eyes, her breath ragged. I slid up alongside her, kissing her on the cheek, then again lower, along her jaw. I let my eyes trail down her torso; she had a lovely young body.

She rolled to me, coming into my arms. Her eyes were reddened, goose bumps on her satiny flesh. I knew what I wanted, but couldn't say it. Then I felt her hand brush my crotch.

"Baby, we..."

"You can use the thing he had," she spoke, the words not registering immediately in my head. "The thing Charlie wanted to..."

I put a finger to her lips, shushing her.

"Amy, we..."

"You can. ...I want you to."

Her lips came to mine again, gentle, then probing. I kissed my daughter back knowing there was no going back from this anyway.

"Let's go in my room," I said finally, getting up off the cold tile and taking her hand to help her up. Amy's legs almost went again and I had to hold her for a moment. Then she was okay, stepping back from me, letting me take in nakedness. She stepped back and, with a look over her shoulder, disappeared into my bedroom.

She was sitting on the edge of my bed when I came in, the ponytails undone, her hair spilling loosely across her shoulders; she looked frightened, but she stood as I came up to her, cupping her breasts protectively, as if a chill had gone through her. I laid the condom on the night stand, having ripped the foil with my teeth as soon as I'd picked it up.

I touched her cheek and pulled her hands away from her breasts. She came to me as if it were the most natural thing in the world, lifting my shirt, pausing as if to ask if it was alright before lifting it up over my head. Her body felt incredible next to my bare chest, those pert nipples mashed to my flesh. I took her hand and brought it down to my belt.

"Pull down my pants."

Amy stepped back and awkwardly worked the buckle and then drew down the zipper. I put a hand atop her shoulder and gave the slightest pressure, enough to tell her to drop to her knees as she struggled to pull my pants down along my legs. Then my boxers, already tented with my erection. She gripped the bottom seam and pulled then down, freeing me, my hardened cock bouncing before her face.

"What should I do now," she half stammered.

I took her hand and put in on my shaft. She'd painted her nails a soft pink; she was wearing the opal birthstone I'd bought her two years before. She squeezed me softly, looking up at my face, then slowly, started to stoke it. I felt myself nodding, smiling. She bent forward and kissed the thick bulbous head.

"Up here," I said, taking her by the hand, edging her back onto the mattress, grabbing the condom as I knelt close alongside her. She was staring as I put it on, unfurling it down the length of my penis. Then I was kneeling between her legs, touching her hips, gripping them.

"Will it hurt?" My daughter was scared, I could see it.

I lowered myself on top of her, my face close to hers.

"Will it?"

"Maybe."

I reached down and positioned my cock against her vulva.

"I don't care," she whispered hoarsely at my ear. Neither do I, I thought darkly.

And I pushed in, just a bit, hearing her gasp at the entry. Then another inch, then Amy, with a quick thrust of her pelvis, brought me all the way home, in as far as I could penetrate, a raspy breath hitched in her throat.

"Are you okay?"

She waited a second and nodded, then managed a distressed smiled. I drew out, and then slowly went back in, easy at first, getting a rhythm, quickening. I knew I couldn't hold out for long, no way.

I was fucking her really hard then, feeling my daughter's legs wrap around me, grabbing her slender hips and anchoring her to take the full brunt of each thrust, driving my cock into her body over and over again...

And then I went; a ripping orgasm, a climax so intense and prolonged that I found myself keening. I was gasping for air when I got my senses back, sweat soaking our bodies, Amy's legs still scissoring me, as if to wrench every last bit of energy out of it.

I'd just fucked my own daughter, my only child. I'd come in her—well not really, not if the Trojan corporation made a dependable product. I rolled off her and covered my face, not knowing what to say.

Then I heard the soft giggle. I looked down and saw Amy prodding the sperm-bulged rubber, her finger tracing it, squishing the cloudy semen around like it was some new toy.

"Are you okay?" It was all I could think to say.

She gave me a small nod, the embarrassment evident on her face.

"You have a lot of it," she said after another moment, still preoccupied with my copious ejaculate, maybe thinking, as I was, that this was where she'd had her own inception; that her existence had indeed sprung from this penis.

I leaned in and kissed my girl, then took her tightly in my arms, holding her there, afraid to let go.

Epilogue

I look back on this story from nearly a quarter century. Yeah, that long. I'm not sure why I tell it to you today, other than some prurient bent in my nature.

I guess I should start by saying that I never touched my daughter in a sexual way again. Of course that would be a fabrication in the extreme. I should also tell you that this one night wrecked our familial love forever, but this too would be off the mark. I won't tell you that it hasn't been complicated, as it has.

Charlie, my erstwhile employee, had of course wanted to come over the very next Monday for some NFL action, and hadn't taken it to well when I said football night was probably off the table for some time to come. He was not happy about that obviously and left my employ after a few weeks. I wasn't too worried about his mouth either, as he had an attractive young wife at home. He'd probably stay shut up, I remember thinking, a prediction that was to prove unnervingly correct.

Charlie got killed in a car wreck less than a year after that night. He might've been a pain in the ass, but overall he was a good guy. He didn't deserve to go out young like that.

John was a lot more succinct, not talking about that evening, not asking if we were on for the next Monday. He was a good man, a man you could trust. He still lives close by; a nice wife and a couple kids. I helped him get his start in the business and we are what I'd call pretty good friends—at least as good a friend you could be with someone who you've witnessed pumping a big juicy load into your daughter's virgin mouth. We have never once referred to that night, and I know we never will.

For three days after that evening, I couldn't get myself to really talk to Amy, unable to even look her in the eye. I was consumed with guilt, convinced I'd destroyed both our lives, ashamed that I couldn't dampen this lust that was increasingly wracking my psyche. They were the three longest days in my life; three days and three long, interminable nights.

My daughter saved me. She came to me on that last evening, after midnight, standing alongside my bed in a simple nightgown, the hall light casting a halo about her.

"Hi," that weak, sweet voice.

I couldn't answer.

"Don't feel bad about what happened."

"I should've..."

"I love you, Dad."

Amy stepped closer and lifted the nightgown over her head, absently dropping it to the floor. I felt the bed give as she carefully climbed atop me, my face curtained with soft hair as she bent to kiss me.

"I want you to make love to me again," she said. "Do you have a thing?"

I'd bought three packs of condoms over these past three days, tossing each out the window before I'd get home. I'd gone out and gotten another three-pack before I came home tonight, shamed as I'd hidden it in the nightstand drawer.

"Yeah," I nodded.

Amy clucked and kissed me again. I reached up and took a grip on her slim, muscular thighs, guiding her up until she was perfectly straddled over my face, her hands finding purchase on the headboard as I pulled her pelvis to me, her cunt sodden and warm as she ground her full weight down onto my mouth.

I still see every detail after all these years. I made love to my little girl that night and on so many nights thereafter. If I'm judged, so be it.

The years have gone past and things have changed. It must seem strange to hear me say that I heard about each of my daughter's boyfriends as we lay in my bed—and yes, I did get off on each and every dirty detail.

The only rocky spot I'd ever acknowledge between us was during the span of her first marriage; her husband a guy I just couldn't stand. Could not stand him, and couldn't get past the way Amy arbitrarily decided to cut off our physical relationship. I could understand where she was coming from; I just couldn't get past it emotionally, and not just on the sex side of things. The closeness between us was replaced by distance, as if she didn't trust herself to control her own desires. For nearly two years my girl would go out of her way to avoid being with me alone

Two years, and then one day it was over. I won't get into the messy details, but suffice it to say one afternoon I got a call; Amy asking if she could move back in for awhile, maybe go back to school. It was something she didn't even have to ask. She'd always have a home here.

She moved her things in and I've got to be honest and say absolutely nothing happened. She went back for her masters and saw the divorce through. We'd eat dinner almost every night, hang out, but never once did we talk about where we'd been physically. We got to be friends again, real friends, maybe closer than we'd ever been. I never made a pass; she never gave any indication that she wanted one. Seven months like that. Then one night she again came to my bed again, standing there naked, changed in the years since we'd last been together. She was more of a woman now, still beautiful, but different, fuller of figure, a face etched with experience.

"Want some company?" she said, a playful smile, her newly short hair bringing out the highlights of her face. It was a good face, closer to her Mom's face.

It was the best time in my life sexually; for her too, I think. For nearly three years Amy shared my bed as a lover would, the two of us often laying there together in the dark, spent from fucking, loving each other with a passion I can't really relate. It was a time when we had time, money coming in, traveling during her summer breaks, a father and daughter seeing the world, no one guessing at the fact that I'd ridden her pretty face into the pillow the night before or that she'd greedily swallowed my load in the shower that morning.

It was the best, and it was I who ended it, or at least altered it. I told my girl that she needed to see other guys—and not just so she could tell me how she'd sucked off her boyfriend that night, though I'm telling you each and every tale was better than anything you could read on the internet—but, because I knew she needed to have a life, a real life. A man who loved her, kids.

I handled it right, and she knew it wasn't a rejection on my part. It was the most elemental act of love I was capable of.

Twelve years ago my daughter was married. Ed is a terrific guy, smart, attractive. Weirdly, he was someone I knew professionally, and had set her up with; a blind date and then a big church wedding less than a year later. And I'd told her up front that however she wanted to handle this thing with "us" was okay with me. I told her to think it out after they'd gotten engaged. Take your time...

My lovely daughter spent the night before her wedding in my bed, riding my cock with carnal abandon. It sort of told me that I wouldn't be out in the cold after the honeymoon. One of my few regrets is that I didn't ask her to model her wedding dress for me that night, to wear the veil as she galloped atop my shaft. I know that probably sounds particularly twisted, but I know for certain that she would've done it if I'd asked.

Anyway, twelve years and we still do it. I hope that I don't imply that Ed is some kind of slouch in the sex department, as he keeps her, by her own admission, well lubed. She's had two boys since then, and yes, I've fucked her throughout both pregnancies, suckling her newly heavy breasts, tasting the sweet, warm milk, caressing that shockingly big belly. And so that you're not left wondering, I'd always use a rubber when she was planning on getting with child. The kids look like Ed spit 'em out; maybe their toes look like mine.

Last year we spent three days alone—traveling to Florida for her aunt's funeral, booking adjoining rooms at the Hilton, the connecting door open the whole time. It was like old times as you can well imagine; waking up to a blow job, humping recklessly in the shower, my sweet baby girl offering her ass to me, which was something we'd only done once before. Sounds morbid, I know, but I'm paying a lot of attention to the health of our relatives these days.

I hope you've enjoyed my sharing this, as I've enjoyed telling it. It is early morning now, a Wednesday. I'm expecting Amy at noon or a little before. And to think it all started with my stripping her raw and letting her be used by those two guys. Stranger that fucking hell, isn't it.

Anyway, I felt it was important for you to know how it all worked out. I'm just one happy SOB, living in the damn pink here. And Amy...she never dressed like a cheap slut again, let me assure you of that.

We're discreet in the extreme these days—Amy usually stops by my house for lunch once or twice a week. Ed knows she's coming by to see me—but certainly not to be my incestuous bedmate—and sometimes he'll even phone her here.

Our usual play these days is to move directly into my bedroom, not saying anything, undressing in front of each other and just coming together. That body that sprang from my own genes is still the most erotic sight I've ever seen.