Gordian Knot

byadam applebiter©

"Goodnight Luce." Lucy put her arm around Jean-Paul and hugged his side.

Jean-Paul simply nodded. He was choked up again. He pushed the door closed and turned to return his wife's embrace. They stood in the hall for quite some time before Jean-Paul swept Lucy off her feet and carried her to bed, her underwear hanging from one ankle like a flag of surrender.

Jean-Paul lowered his wife gently onto the bed, hooking the almost discarded briefs off her ankle as he stood back up. With a flourish, he twirled them around one finger and sent them sailing through the air in the general direction of the closet. Lucy sank back, her arms stretched languidly above her head, her knees falling invitingly open. Jean-Paul's hand on her thigh swept her skirt up toward her waist, revealing her crotch. The lips beneath her trimmed brown curls were smooth and glistened invitingly. Jean-Paul sank down to the bed, by Lucy's feet and lowered his head toward the moist cleft. As his tongue made its first contact with her labia, Lucy moaned. She let her head fall back onto the pillow, closed her eyes and let the whole world revolve around her clitoris. Jean-Paul had always been good at this and enjoyed it almost as much as she did – or so he claimed. More moans escaped her parted lips as Jean-Paul's tongue parted her nether lips like a hungry bee dipping at nectar.

Jean-Paul knew, almost to the second, how long it would take Lucy to climax. In twenty odd years he must have clocked up a thousand hours of cunnilingus and never tired of it. He guided Lucy to a quick, mild climax because he didn't want her exhausted before he'd even got his trousers off. As Lucy came, her fingers flexed then contracted, gripping handfuls of bedding as she tensed writhing under his caress, then relaxed.

Lucy felt the hot rush of her orgasm flow through her, lifting her off the bed. As the moment passed and she subsided, breathing heavily, she felt the buttons of her blouse yielding under Jean-Paul's fingers. Opening her eyes to look at him, she took hold of his tie and drew the knot open. As his hands pushed the cotton blouse away from her bosom, she unfastened one, two, three shirt buttons then pushed against his broad chest, urging him upright.

Lucy sat up, shrugged her blouse off her shoulders and reached behind herself to unhook her bra. Her breasts dropped a couple of inches as she peeled the brassiere off – They weren't bad though, for her age. Jean-Paul had certainly never tired of them. Right now he was busily dragging his shirt over his head. Lucy reached for his belt, unbuckling it to get to the button. As she drew his zipper down over the bulge of his erection, his trousers fell to his ankles. She sent his shorts to join them and freed his hard cock. She took hold of his shaft and wrapped her mouth around his glans, circling it with her tongue, tasting the saline slickness of pre-seminal fluid. Not that she had any intention of sucking him off. After only a few seconds of play, she called time out, bending lower to help extricate Jean-Paul's feet from the tangle of trousers and shorts. She undid the laces on his shoes so that he could slip them off then tugged the rest of his clothes off one foot at a time, socks and all. In moments he was completely naked. As she unbent her torso, Jean-Paul's cock batted her ear making her giggle coquettishly. She rolled backwards, lifting her legs either side of her husband until they pointed straight up and her skirt fell to her waist. Jean-Paul, taking his cue from her, unhooked the side of the skirt and drew it up the length of her legs and off. Her black pumps and hold-ups followed in short order, leaving both of them stripped of every stitch and every remaining scrap of will power.

Pushing her raised ankles down and apart, Jean-Paul threw himself onto Lucy, impaling her on his cock. She gasped as he sank straight in as far as her cervix, his balls slapping against her bottom. The curly hairs of his scrotum tickled her anus a little – In a good way, since it made her squirm under her husband and Jean-Paul always preferred a lively wench to a dead assed one.

It was like the last twenty years hadn't happened. Jean-Paul pounded at Lucy's pussy with the vigour of his youth restored. His hands kneaded her breasts, softer and well used as they were after feeding two babies. He didn't care that the firmness of youth was gone: Lucy, seen through his eyes, had changed only for the better. Her slack breasts could be corrected by any competent surgeon – and they could afford the best – but Jean-Paul disliked suck fakery. As he fucked her, hearing her moans of pleasure building toward cries of ecstasy, feeling the familiar, delightful grip of her pelvic muscles and the tightening in his balls heralding his own release, driving him on like a lash across his buttocks – As he fucked her hard and fast, he gasped out the words, "I... love... you..."

Lucy came loudly under the onslaught of his driving cock, her nails raking at his shoulders as she dragged him down onto her, silencing any further sentiment with her open mouth pressed over his. Her orgasmic spasms tipped Jean-Paul over the edge and with one last thrust he let fly, flooding her insides with boiling semen then collapsing upon her as the years caught up with him. Still their mouths were glued together but slowly, very slowly, the passion of the kiss subsided, leaving only the tenderness. As his softening penis slipped from her body and his escaping semen trickled down between her buttocks, Lucy pulled her lips from his and pressed her cheek to his to whisper "I love you too." close to his ear.

After a few minutes more tenderness, Jean-Paul rolled over beside Lucy, letting her up off the bed. She padded barefoot and butt-naked to the bathroom to clean up. When she got back, Jean-Paul was already asleep. She smiled the same smile she'd so often worn when watching the twins sleep, all those years back. She slid into bed beside him, snuggling up to him and feeling his arm snake around her, his fingers cupping one breast. He wasn't that fast asleep then. She pressed close, feeling his penis against the cleft of her bottom. He was totally flaccid. Never mind, she thought, morning was soon enough for a second round. He was always hard in the morning. Lucy closed her eyes and drifted off to sleep too.

* * *

On the short walk home, Luce had plenty of time to regret not letting Jean-Paul help. The night air had practically put Peter to sleep. What had started out as an exercise in steering a drunk was, by the time she reached their own door, a much more exercise-like exercise of carrying a drunk. Despite the coolness of the night, she was starting to perspire. Still, needs must...

Once safely inside, she pushed Peter's coat of one shoulder then the other, letting it fall in a heap on the hall floor where she'd find it in the morning. Her own coat was a little more difficult as she had to hold onto Peter to stop him toppling over while she tried to shrug out of it. Finally, she let go of her father, let her coat drop and caught hold of him again before he fell. Peter just smiled inanely.

She steered him toward the stairs that, surprisingly, weren't the obstacle she was expecting. Peter could perambulate well enough as long as she held him upright and did the navigation. At the top of the stairs, she turned him right instead of left and guided him into the master bedroom – the bedroom he'd been avoiding. This was the one part of her plan that his inebriation simplified – he was too drunk to notice.

Luce undressed her father, having the presence of mind to drop his trousers before letting him sit down on the bed. She knelt to remove shoes, socks and the aforementioned trousers before starting on his shirt and tie. As she stood again, Peter's tie proved invaluable to catch him by as he started to slump back on the bed.

"No you don't!" Luce chided as she snatched at his tie and pulled him back from the brink. She struggled with the knot that was now too tight but succeeded in getting it open enough to lift over Peter's head. His shirt came off the same way, as did his vest.

"Where'sh the... the bathroom?" Peter mumbled as Luce was about to let him lie down.

"Oh, dear lord." Luce muttered. "C'mon then, Dad." She hauled on his wrists, getting him on his feet again and led him to the bathroom, standing behind him to offer support without getting in the firing line. Peter saw the toilet in front of him and seemed to remember why he was stood there. He fumbled in his shorts for his penis, aimed at the porcelain and missed.

"Dad!" Luce reached around without thinking and took control of her father's penis before he flooded them out. While she pointed him in the right direction, she had time to reflect on how the evening had turned out. Sure, she'd fully intended to end up holding this penis, just not like this. When Peter turned off the hose, Luce shook his penis gently to dislodge the last drop of urine then tucked the little guy back into the shorts. With a brief detour to the washstand, she guided him back to the bed, held him upright with one hand while pulling back the sheets with the other then let him flop down onto the bed again and lifted his feet in as he keeled over onto the pillows. He was snoring gently before Luce had even covered him.

Luce had worked out all the different ways this scene could play out, had prepared arguments and tactics for every conceivable scenario – except this one. She looked down at the sleeping figure of her father and shrugged. This would perhaps be easier. She undressed, considered leaving her briefs on then changed her mind and peeled them down her legs too. Then she regretted leaving Peter's shorts on and pulled back the sheet to finish undressing him. He didn't stir. There! Now they were both naked – which would be one less hurdle to overcome in the morning. She got into her mother's side of the bed and put her arm around Peter so she'd know if he got up in the night, not that it was likely in his condition. She wasn't ready for sleep though and lay awake thinking over all that she'd done and what more she was planning.

Since reading Georgina's journals and finding out that Peter was her half-brother, not her real father, Luce had wanted the love Georgina so often wrote about. She wanted to be loved by someone who'd been in her heart every day of her life and who, no matter what, would never stop loving her. She'd learned how much more than just a marriage Peter and Georgina had enjoyed and she wanted that for herself. In short, she wanted to take her mother's place in this bed. That required two things – Peter had to be sleeping in here again and Peter had to be her lover. Ok, so he was back in here and if he wasn't her lover before they got out of this bed, he probably never would be.

She'd done all she could to deal with the objections she knew Peter would raise. Jean-Paul was her biological father and everyone now knew that she knew it. As far as the neighbours were concerned, Luce wasn't actually related to Peter at all so they would not have that much of a problem with adjusting to the new arrangement. Oh, there'd be a period of discomfort, but it'd pass. Their incest would, as it always had been, remain a secret. And Peter could hardly object to bedding her, simply because it was incestuous. He had previous form for that.

Luce noticed that her hand had strayed down to Peter's limp penis and was cupping it gently. She wondered if she could get a rise out of it here and now. One way to find out. She stroked it with more purpose, wrapping her fingers around it firmly and kneading it. Slowly, the thing responded, swelling in her hand. She couldn't see it but she imagined it peeking out of the end of her fist and winking at her as she squeezed. A few minutes had Peter's penis fully erect, long and hard in her grasp. It felt big. She'd had a few lovers, so was no stranger to the variety of cocks but this felt bigger than any she'd encountered. Perhaps it was true that men's penises got bigger with age.

Holding Peter's erection it dawned on Luce that, in addition to sleeping with him, there was precedent for non-consenting sex too. She let go of his cock long enough to roll him onto his back, making him snore even louder. Luce slid on top of him, her legs straddling his waist as she reached between their bodies to guide his cock into her. She'd been damp all evening, anticipating seducing him and the emotional release with Jean-Paul had only made her more horny. Now she was practically dripping as Peter's glans nestled between her labia. She eased back onto it, feeling herself stretch to accommodate the beast. It was big – really big. She'd had cocks as long but it was thick too. She hissed through her teeth as she inched it into her body. He was certainly going to take some getting used to. She rested on his hips for a moment, enjoying having him all inside her and thinking of how he'd raped their mother's ass with this monster. Sweet Jesus! That must have hurt.

Slowly but with gathering urgency, Luce moved her hips, pumping Peter's cock inside her. He was dead to the world and responded to the feel of hot young flesh around his penis only with occasional grunts. Luce rubbed at her clit as she drove her hips down hard on her new, living dildo. She was ready to explode when Peter groaned in his sleep and Vesuvius erupted in her pussy. It was the last straw, her orgasm pulsed through her, tearing an ecstatic scream from her throat as her body arched and her vagina gripped the spurting cock like a rodeo riders glove on the reins.

Peter went limp inside her while she caught her breath. She was drenched in sweat and their combined fluids were leaking down her inner thighs.

"Thank you, Daddy." She said, cheerily as she clambered off him. Turning on the bedside light she looked at herself in the dressing tale mirror. "Ooh! Look at the mess you've made of my little pussy." She put on the little-girlie voice she used to get her own way.

Luce went into the bathroom and turned on the shower. Hot water always felt good after sex, when all her nerves were still tingling and her senses seemed so much keener. As she washed herself, she let her soapy fingers linger as they passed over her anus. Good Lord! How was she ever going to fit him there? She'd never had a cock in her ass, though fingers and toys had both been fun and she hadn't refused any boy she'd fucked. They'd simply never asked her for that. She rinsed off and got out of the shower.

Wrapped in the biggest towel in the house, she came out of the bathroom carrying a damp facecloth. Gently, she cleaned Peter's flaccid penis, his heavy balls and the stickiness on his thighs. Luce took off the towel she was wearing to dry him off then covered him up again, turned out the light and got back into bed herself. This time she was ready for sleep.

* * *

Peter woke with a blinding headache and a poor grasp of his surroundings. He groaned as the dim, curtain filtered, daylight stuck pins in his eyes.

"Good morning, Dad." Luce's voice was a happy whisper in his ear but it might as well have been the church bells at close range. He winced. "Oh, you poor thing." She cooed and Peter felt a warm breast press against his chest as his daughter reached across to the night stand. He heard the plink-fizz of Alka-seltzer then a cold glass was pressed gently into his hand. "This'll help." Luce said quietly as she moved off him so that he could sit up enough to sip the hangover cure.

Luce! ...warm breast... naked girl... Luce?... Peter's brain disengaged the auto-pilot and nearly crashed into the looming realization that Luce was in his bed. He sputtered, spraying Alka-seltzer across the covers. "Luce?... Wh...wh..."

"What am I doing here?" She asked for him. He was clearly having difficulty articulating his concerns. She smiled demurely and sat up beside him, letting her share of the covers slip from her bare bosom. "I slept here. I didn't think you'd ever come back in here alone so I came with you."


"But what? But I'm your daughter? Not really. But it's not right? Neither was marrying our mother. But this was Mom's bed? Now it's ours and I'm sure she wouldn't mind me claiming this as part of my inheritance." Under the sheets, her hand found his penis. Either he'd woken up hard or he liked what he saw because he was almost completely rigid. "Any more buts?"


"Shh. These are the options. Plan A. You could throw me out of bed right now. Refuse to lay a finger on me. Pretend last night never happened. You could do that, but you'd keep inadvertently walking in on me in a state of undress, finding photos of me naked all over the house, be terrified to open your email in the presence of your secretary in case it's a video clip of me masturbating with your electric toothbrush. Inside 48 hours you'd be jerking off while fantasizing about me and you wouldn't be able to get to sleep at night because I'd be lying outside your door with a vibrator in my pussy having noisy orgasms and calling your name and begging you to fuck me in the ass. How long would it be before you gave in? Three days? Four? Certainly not five.

Or you could try Plan B. Give in to your little girl without a fight, just like you've always done."

"But... why?" Was all Peter could manage. He was not just hung over, he was shell-shocked.

"Because you and Mom were the closest couple I've ever seen and I want to try for some of what you two had. I want to know how it feels to be with someone who's loved me forever. You and Mom are the best argument for Plan B I could find." Luce felt tears on her cheeks. Proof if it were needed that this was about a hell of a lot more than just the sex. She smiled all the same and took the empty glass from Peter's hand. This time, when she leant across him to put the glass down, she made sure both breasts pressed against him. In her other hand, his cock pulsed. Knowing that she'd won, she eased back and guided his empty hand to her bosom, sighing as his cold fingers instinctively cupped her flesh. Her nipple hardened against his palm and its twin perked up visibly. "I've already fucked you anyway, Daddy. While you were sleeping."

Peter's eyes widened. "Wh..."

"You came right inside me. It was marvellous but I think I'd prefer it with you awake." Luce slid her hand along his shaft, working it to full rigidity. "Will you, Daddy? Will you fuck me properly this time?" It was her little-girl voice again.

For answer, Peter lay back, drawing her down with him. He kissed her forehead gently before speaking. "Luce, I'm hung over. My mouth tastes like somebody shit in it and I can't get all this straight in my head. Let me sleep, Honey."

Luce slung a leg over him and eased herself over his hips just like last night. She pressed back against his cock, feeling it's hot length along her labia and butt crack. She kissed Peter, ignoring his dog's breath, and forcing her tongue against his. "Ok, Dad. I'll help you get this all straight." She reached behind her and pressed his glans against her sphincter. "That's one good push away from sodomy." She eased forward and pushed his glans down to her soft vulva then eased back on to it. "And that's about ten seconds away from fucking your daughter." She pressed slowly back until her labia gripped just behind the head of his cock. "You can stop me anytime you want, Dad. Just say supercalifragilisticexpialidocious and I'll stop right away. Ok?" She thrust back hard, impaling herself on his cock for the second time and squealing with joy as his hot hard flesh filled her.

Peter, mentally numb from the after-effects of alcohol and dazed further by the turn of events, did nothing. It wasn't consent as such, but an inability to deal with the situation. His head throbbed so he slumped back into the welcoming softness of his pillows with a groan. He vaguely recalled that he wanted Luce to stop what she was doing but it was the only part of him that felt good and that was something to cling too.

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byadam applebiter© 5 comments/ 78040 views/ 20 favorites

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