Daddy-Daughter D.I.Y

Amy froze, two fingers buried in the furnace of her cunt, the other flat against the wall where she'd slammed it in the throes of her passion. She didn't hear anything. Shock still - barring the slow pistoning of the digits in her pussy - she waited until she heard conversation resume in her parents' bedroom.

Oh Daddy. I didn't know you felt that way. I hoped you felt that way. I want you to feel that way again!

She smeared her body against the wall, driving herself hard against it in an effort to best hear her daddy's voice as he lied to her mother about what they'd been doing together all day.

Admittedly, most of it wasn't lies. For the most part they had just done some minor renovation work. But Amy knew there was more to the story. She knew that she'd been lusting after him, and she knew now that he'd been doing just the same.

Daddy, you should have said something. You should have done something. You could have grabbed me any time. Grabbed any part of me. You could have -taken- me, wherever; whenever; however!

Retracting her errant wall-slapping hand, Amy began to knead roughly at her chest, pinching at her nipples, groping at her breasts as her other hand continued its desperate work between her legs. She whimpered, wanting nothing more to moan her love aloud to her daddy, to let him hear the way she wanted him.

But no. Not now. Perhaps later. For now, she listened to the love in his voice. The affection in his tone. The light in his quiet laughter. She heard everything he said and everything he didn't say, and each word of it brought her closer, closer, c l o s e r-

...

*!*

"Did you hear that? Sounded like a... squeal."

His wife mumbled a non-committal sort of a mumble beside him, nuzzling into the bed at his side.

"Oh, sorry hon." He didn't realise she'd started falling asleep. How long had he been rambling? "Probably just one of the kids calling out. They'll be right."

Shuffling his way down under the covers alongside his wife, John began to smile. He felt much better about the whole situation with Amy. Surely things would work themselves out tomorrow.

He switched out the lights, settling into place and wrapping his arms around his phenomenal spouse. And as he drifted off to sleep, he called forth visions of his perfect daughter in her too-tight t-shirt - and not much else.

CHAPTER FIVE

Sunday was family day and Amy was not attending, despite her mother's protestations. Fortunately, Amy knew just how to handle that.

"I've got UNI work to do, Mum! Just have a nice day out with the rest of the fam! I'll be fine here!"

It helped that, to her mother's mind, she'd had a 'fight' with her dad the day before. It was only logical that she might still not be ready to spend the day with him. As for dad, Amy didn't hear anything from him.

He probably thinks the same thing. Perfect. I'll have the house to myself today then.

So Amy camped out in her bedroom until she heard the rumbling 'clunk' of the garage door swinging shut. Then she got to work.

The family people mover was gone, bearing the rest of the family off toward the beach and leaving her dad's ute all alone in the garage. Amy immediately set about unlocking the tool chests built into the tray, clambering around the car to dig through all the shelves and cupboards lining the walls of the room.

By the time she had everything she needed, she was panting; out of breath and sweaty. A quick trip to the kitchen to refuel, then she and all her materials went to the bedroom.

There was, however, one thing missing. The drill.

The door to her parents room swung open slowly and, with timid steps, Amy made her way inside. It was one thing to seduce her father; it was another thing entirely to enter her parents bedroom without permission.

That is like... such a double standard. But it doesn't change the fact that this feels -scary-.

The drill was set upon her father's bedside table, propped up alongside a framed photo of him and her mother on their wedding day. Amy grasped it reverently as she collected it - taking particular care to avoid the trigger for the time being.

The photo radiated outward, increasingly prominent now that the drill had been removed from alongside. Amy frowned down at it slightly. Her mum looked really happy.

"It's not like that, mum. I'm not trying to steal him off you." Her lips tightened, then she shrugged. "I just want to fuck him. Apart from that, he's all yours."

She weighed the drill in her hands, her gaze drifting to the wall.

"Or, well... mostly. I just mean that I don't want to ruin your marriage. I do want my own special relationship with him. And this is gonna help me do it."

She leant forward, pecking her lips upon the photo - leaving the faintest trace of watermelon lip gloss to decorate her smiling mother.

* * * *

Amy hadn't really taken a hands-on role when it came to D.I.Y or home repair before, but she'd lived her whole life with a builder for a father. She'd picked things up.

So she knew she needed a hole saw, but not how to attach it to the drill. It took her some figuring out - including referring back to a helpful youtube video - but eventually she managed. Then she laid some tape down on the wall and... drilled it. But a bit more carefully than the last time.

Then she measured, relocated, measured again. Then drilled again. Then sandpapered, glued, installed a length of pipe. Then painted, vacuumed, installed a picture hook, nabbed a photo frame from her own room and swapped the picture out, positioned the frame, wrote a little note for her daddy to find, blu-tacked up a poster and put everything away again.

By the time everyone else got home, she was chilling in the lounge pretending nothing untoward had happened at all. She gave them all a cheery wave when they came in, peeking over a book to watch her daddy walk on by.

He didn't say anything, and nor did she. But she did stretch out a long, sexy leg for him to eyeball as he passed through the room, and she saw him notice.

I hope you like your present, Daddy!

She giggled into her book, drawing a wry grin from her mother who poked her head through the doorway.

"Hey mum! I finished my uni stuff. And I think I might be able to work things out with dad. I just... needed a little time."

Her mother's eyes sparkled and her smile grew. She commended Amy on her maturity, and moved on with a twinkle of pride in her eyes.

I'm hoping to work out a -lot- of things with dad!

"Thanks mom~!"

It had been a long day. Enjoyable for the most part, but John had been somewhat preoccupied with thoughts of Amy.

About her having a nice time at the beach. Not about her in a bikini. Nope. Not even a little. Didn't cross my mind. Didn't make me have to adjust myself in my board shorts.

He'd fallen asleep optimistic - Not to mention aroused - the night before, but woken somewhat pensive. Amy turning down the invite to family beach day hadn't helped, though his wife had tutted understandingly and provided unwavering reassurance.

But now he wanted to change out of his beach clothes and into something fresh, so he proceeded to his bedroom. He hadn't expected Amy to be relaxing on the lounge when they returned. And he certainly hadn't expected her... display.

That was... intentional. She saw me. I saw her see me. Then she flashed her leg. And she watched me see her flash her leg. And then she giggled as I left. And of course I left. How else am I supposed to react when my daughter flashes her leg at me like that?

Go lick it?

Not helpful.

No. Not helpful. But it -would- be hot as hell.

He made it to the safety of his room.

First, John noticed the missing drill. Then he noticed the newly mounted picture frame. Then he noticed the note. It rested on the bedside table, right where the drill had been when he'd left that morning.

He eyed the frame as he picked up the note. It was simple, metal; he recognised it from Amy's room. The photo on display within featured him and Amy from earlier in the year. They'd all gone on a little trip over the summer to celebrate her getting into university and someone, her sister perhaps, had managed to snap a nice picture of her and him hugging on a park bench.

"Good times."

How was she feeling, then? Fear, apprehension about the future? Had she been considering yesterday's behaviour that far in advance? He accepted it now, that her... impact with him had not been accidental. Were there signs he'd missed at that time?

The folded over slip of paper contained a brief message on its outward face.

For Dad's eyes only.

Warily, he unfolded the note and started to read.

Dear Daddy,

I hope this letter finds you well hung. Sorry, just a little joke on my part. I already know you're well hung. I started to wonder yesterday morning, got a quick feel in the bathroom, and made sure of it in my bedroom later on.

I want to say sorry for what happened. I got carried away and did something I shouldn't have done. I'm not mad at you for freaking out. I hope the picture (and the special surprise behind it ;P ) can make you feel better.

Love, Amy

John swiftly folded the note, tightly tucking it into his palm as he threw his gaze over his shoulder toward the door.

Nobody there. Nobody saw anything.

He swallowed, his tongue suddenly feeling awkward in his mouth, his face flushed and body trembling.

Oh shit. Oh shit, Amy. What have you done? What are you doing? We can't... I can't do... What's behind the picture?

A shaky hand made its way over to the newfound frame. He hooked his fingers behind it and tugged.

"You have got to be fucking kidding me."

He dropped to his knees, shuffling forward, leaning in. There, at eye-level - or crotch-level if he happened to be standing - was a pristine hole in the plaster. Bigger than his fist was round. He gawped.

This wasn't... when did? Did she-?"

He leaned in closer; ran a finger round the lip, found it smooth and rounded, no jagged edges. Inside it was smooth PVC, a short cylinder of an inch or two terminating at a wall - no, not a wall, paper - on the other side.

Aghast, John stuck his fingers in. He felt like he shouldn't. It felt inappropriate. The whole situation was inappropriate. But he did it anyway. He had to know.

His fingers made contact with the paper. The paper moved. He saw her bedroom. He pulled away. He sat down on the floor.

She made a hole in the wall. Well, a -second- hole in the wall. A hole in -my- wall. In my -wifes- wall. I -cannot- let her see this.

Even as his mind roiled, he couldn't help but appreciate the workmanship. Workwomanship. Clear cuts. No misalignment. Tidied up the joins and the edges. Hell, if he set a level in there he wouldn't be surprised to find it perfectly balanced.

He felt proud as well as aroused. As well as scared. Scare-proused.

Whatever it was, it was making his dick hard. And he didn't know what to do about it.

But what he did know to do was immediately place that picture frame back where it came from, and he scurried to do that post-haste.

"Honey? I'm going to go take a shower! Get the rest of this sand off..."

Amy jumped, sprawling on the sofa. Her head poked up to look over the backrest to stare wide-eyed at her father. Her loud-yelling father, standing just inside the entrance to the room. Looking at her.

They both heard a distant confirmation from her mother. His wife. He nodded.

"Yeah! And then I'm gonna take a nap in our room for a bit. A long nap! Feeling pretty tired."

His eyes locked with hers. She blinked, eyes wide like a Tarsier, or a... particularly startled feline.

He nodded again. He was nodding to her.

"It'd be nice not to be disturbed!" His eyebrows rose, inquiring. Then his face fell, and he turned to yell back behind himself up the corridor. "Not that you're disturbing, honey! Ignore that bit! Sorry!"

He turned back to Amy with a bashful grimace, then shrugged, taking a strained breath.

"Here's hoping I don't cop any flack for that one later, huh?"

Amy slowly nodded.

He slowly nodded.

She flicked her eyes toward the doorway. The portal to the bedrooms.

He slowly nodded.

She slowly nodded.

He stepped in the other direction, back toward the bathrooms.

"I am actually gonna go have a shower now. First. Before... my nap."

He nodded slowly.

Amy slowly rotated herself off the sofa, eyes locked on her father as she went.

He took another step toward the bathrooms.

She took a step toward the bedrooms.

"Yeah dad. Sure thing. I'm gonna... go lie down in my room for a bit. I'm feeling kinda tired myself."

He did a big nod.

She did too.

They each stepped in time with the other, circling their way around the boundary of the room.

"Guess I'll see you later? After my nap?"

"Yeah. Sounds good. Have a good nap, baby doll."

She'd made it to the doorway now. As had he. They remained staring at each other.

"Yeah. I hope it's a good... looooong nap, ~Daddy~."

She stepped backward, disappearing into the corridor behind her.

For a moment, John stood shock still, staring blankly into the middle distance.

Then he coughed, and swiftly made his way toward the shower.

Amy almost ripped the poster off the wall. She would have done it too. She didn't care about the hunky boy band member on it any more, but at the last second she remembered that she didn't have all that many posters, and she really needed to keep her 'home improvement' a secret. And that meant she needed posters on hand.

So she untacked it swiftly and set it aside. Then she got up and locked her door. Then she returned to the hole and knelt down. Then she stood up and paced for a moment. Then she did a star jump. To help burn off excess energy. Then she stopped doing them, because what if she -needed- that excess energy, -later-?

I should get ready. Somehow. What does that mean though? What am I supposed to do? Oh shit, I didn't think this through. What does he want? What do -I- want? I'm gonna get naked.

She wriggled her way out of her top, flinging it to a far corner as she struggled with her bra. It was stuck. She jumped on the spot a bit to help loosen it. It didn't help. She took a breath, in through her nose, out through her mouth. The bra came free.

Amy looked down at herself, examining her body, scanning for flaws and imperfections. They were probably there. She couldn't remember any more. Should her tits be bigger? She'd always worried they were small. She took another breath. In through the nose, out through the mouth. She decided to take off her pants.

John towelled off his hair as he crept back toward his room. He passed by the kitchen door, affecting an exaggerated stretch and yawn to put off any interest from the twins within. They watched him sceptically as he passed by, then lost all interest.

Those few minutes in the shower had passed in a blur. Was he really about to do this? With his daughter? And what about his wife, the life that they shared? Their love? Would he throw all of that away for Amy? In some ways... yes. It was a nice sentiment. He loved his daughter. But... the damage that would do, to him, to her, to the rest of the family. It would be unconscionable.

So... what then? An illicit affair within his own household? Continuing to cherish his wife, to share his life with hers while also... with Amy? It seemed impossible. Not impossible to do; merely difficult. But impossible to have. To be so fortunate. He dropped his arms, holding the towel to his waist in an effort to obscure his thriving erection. He increased his pace.

Amy's bedroom light was on, but her door was firmly closed. John took a fortifying breath as he passed by, swiftly slipping through into his own room and locking the door behind him. With the lights off, he could still make out the freshly placed picture frame on the far wall as it glinted sweetly in the afternoon light.

Speaking of which-

He stepped across the room and drew the curtains. It wouldn't be good for anyone to go peeking in. And besides, if he -were- taking a nap, he'd have done it anyway.

That just left the frame. And... his clothes. John dropped his towel at the foot of the bed, then brought his hands to his belt. With methodical movements, he unbuckled, then shucked his trousers. His eyes fixated on the frame, and his fingers danced around the hem of his underwear.

Maybe I'll just... check first. Maybe this has all been a terrible misunderstanding? Somehow?

He tip-toed forward, reaching out toward the frame with a cautious hand. Then, with a fluid motion, he lifted it away.

"Mmm, hello ~Daddy~..."

Amy's tongue protruded from the hole, lapping lasciviously at the air. John almost slammed the photo back into place at the sight of it, but slamming a metal frame down on his daughter's tongue seemed like a bad idea.

"Amy!" John hissed. " What do you think you're doing!?!"

"~Mmm, if everything goes well, my ~Daddy~."

John blustered. By all accounts, it looked like Amy's face was fully pressed up against the wall, forcing her mouth and tongue as far as they could be. Though she did seem to pull back slightly after each provocation in order to hear his response.

"Amy, why are you speaking like that?"

"Like ~what, Daaaaddy?~"

"Like, the wavering thing. The ~D-aa-dy~ thing."

"Oh. I thought it was like... cute? Or sexy? Is- is it not?"

John dropped into a squat, peering through the hole. He caught the briefest glimpse of his daughter's flustered face - then she noticed him, and disappeared with a squeak.

"Well..." John deliberated. "I guess I'm not opposed to it. It might just take some getting used to. I mean, this whole thing might take some getting used to, really."

Amy peered around the edge of the hole slightly. She gave a little nod.

"I thought that this -" She nodded toward the hole, "- would make this easier. Like, if there was a wall between us, then it wouldn't be so... awkward."

John could see how shy she was; how bashful. A protective fire ignited within him. At the end of the day, she was still his little girl, he still wanted her to be happy. Supported. Enthused.

"Hey." He gave her a wry look, eyeballing her through the gap she'd made. "Don't tell me you're too awkward to suck off your dear old dad?"

He saw the instant regret blossoming in her eyes. But, along with that remorse came a twinkle of mirth. She shifted closer to the hole again, bringing her mouth back into sole focus.

"Shut up, dad. And shut me up too. With your ~dong~."

John rose to his feet, sighing a mournful sigh and dropping his undies. His cock, unleashed at last, hung heavy between his legs. Burgeoning with the first hints of arousal, it was expanding - but downward, not outward as of yet.

His daughter's mouth yawned wide and her tongue circled the smooth, inviting opening she'd prepared for him. Taking his cock in hand and granting it a nonchalant stroke or two as he advanced, John admired her pretty lips.

Oh yeah, this definitely cuts down on the awkwardness. Why, that could be anybody's mouth down there. How was I supposed to know the gloryhole to my daughter's room was, -shock horror-, serviced by my daughter? More fool me, I suppose.