Gordian Knot

Luce found Peter barely more lively than last night but that didn't matter. All she wanted now was to make him come inside her again. If she could get his seed, any subsequent arguments about sex would be trumped by a fait accompli. This time, she didn't come. She felt Peter's hips twitch under her and the momentary flood of hot semen into her pussy when she was still a long way from her own orgasm. No matter. She pulled herself off his cock while it was still hard and dribbling the last few drops of white from the slit at its tip. Luce knelt on the bed, caught her father's eye, winked then dipped her head and wrapped her other lips around the tip of his penis, lapping up the escaping semen and enjoying her first taste of his sex. The taste of her own juices was nothing new to her and she made a great show of enjoying licking him clean, working her tongue all the way down to his balls. Only when she was sure that she'd got it all did she release his cock that only then started to wilt.

"Dad!" She chided jovially, standing astride him on the bed and examining the sticky, pasted down triangle of pubes. "Look at the mess you've made of me. And you didn't even wait until I was ready to come too." She made a face of mock disappointment at him. His eyes were locked on the fissure between her thighs. "Don't stare! The least you could do is apologize." She teased.

"...Sorry..." Peter mumbled, not taking his eyes of her crotch.

"Sorry for making me messy or sorry for staring at my little pussy?" Luce was enjoying herself. She could feel how wet she was and it certainly wasn't all his doing. She reached down with both hands to spread her labia with one and frig her clit with the other.

"...Yes..." Peter replied, unsure what the question had been. There was semen oozing out of the pussy in front of him. Vaguely, it dawned on him that it was his. As the Alka-seltzer did its thing, he was beginning to get a handle on reality again. Luce's pussy... Semen... frigging... The pieces fell into place. He'd just been fucked by his daughter. His hand landed on her taut thigh as he tried to push her away. The spirit was now willing but the body was still weak so all he succeeded in doing was slapping her leg.

Luce seized hold of his hand and forced it against her wet crotch. "So you finally want to play? Hey Dad?"

Peter couldn't help himself. He wiggled his fingers, feeling the slick, puffy lips move under them, feeling the springy, soft curls of her pubic hair, finding the opening of her vagina and slipping two fingers into it. Luce moaned at that.

"Yes Dad." She frigged her clit like a woman possessed, finally tipping herself over the edge of orgasm, squeezing Peter's fingers inside her as she squealed and writhed in the ecstasy of the moment. She came back down, panting. Her fingers fell away from her clit but Peter's were still two knuckles deep in her pussy. "I needed that." Luce leant forward and kissed him softly then, feeling his fingers become dislodged, she rolled onto her side beside him and snuggled close, resting her head on his chest and her hand between his thighs, cupping his balls. She purred like a contented cat. Peter said nothing.

They both dozed off, waking sometime late morning still in each other's arms. Peter woke first and not wanting to disturb Luce had lain there trying to work out what to do. His head was clear now and he had vivid recall of this morning's fun and games. That was the problem. It had been fun. He'd fucked Luce – or, more accurately, Luce had fucked him – and it had been fun. So what was the downside? As Luce had pointed out to him, she wasn't really his daughter and he'd got previous for sleeping with close relatives. What would the world see? A widower and his daughter. Nothing more. Jean-Paul and Lucy, on the other hand, would surely notice something. You can't hide all the little signals lovers give off with body language, etc. But Jean-Paul and Lucy 'knew' that he and Luce weren't really related. They may be a little shocked but they were swingers – they'd live with it. That left Luce. Why was she doing it? Was it just some perverse fad because of those damned journals? He couldn't believe she was that fickle. She was waking up. He heard the little squeaky moans that presaged consciousness - So how did he feel about Luce now? He loved her like a daughter. Oh sure, hide behind that! He'd loved Georgina like a mother and look where that led. To hell with it! Sorry Georgina, but it's all starting over.

"Wakey wakey, Sleepy Head." Peter stroked Luce's hair back from her one exposed ear. "Some of us need the bathroom."

"How did you know?" Luce blinked and raised her head, buzzing him briefly on the mouth.

"I guess that means we both do. Ladies first?"

Luce climbed over him and swung her feet to the floor, sitting upright. "Come on." She stood, drawing Peter upright and hanging onto his hand until he too got to his feet. She led him into the bathroom and wrinkled her nose at the faint odour of stale urine. "That's because you missed the pan last night. I had to aim for you. Like this." She urged him into position in front of the toilet, reached around his hips from behind and demonstrated.

"I think I can manage, Luce." He batted her hands away and took charge of his own penis. Luce left him to it and crossed the room to turn on the shower. Peter got stage fright.

"C'mon Daddy. There's a queue."

"I'm not used to having an audience." He looked bashful.

"Can I play through then?" Luce nudged him to one side and sat down without ceremony, cutting loose immediately. Even over the noise of the shower, Peter could here the tinkle of water hitting water. Luce smiled at him, took some tissue, wiped between her legs and stood up, depressing the handle as she did so. "I'll be in there when you've finished." She grinned, indicating the glass booth of the shower enclosure.

Once Luce was safely behind frosted glass, Peter found he could pee again. He sighed with satisfaction as his bladder emptied, recollecting that an elderly acquaintance had bemoaned the loss of this simple pleasure after he'd been fitted with a bag. He finished up and, with only a moment's hesitation, joined Luce in the shower.

Luce had her back to him. On an impulse, Peter pressed her against the wall, using his full weight to pin her there, pressing his crotch against the small of her back as he forced a hand between them, groping down between her buttocks. "Is this what you want?" He growled in her ear, his fingertip pressing against her anus.

"No raping me in the shower." Luce admonished him, glancing over her shoulder. "Soaping is allowed though." She reached behind her and handed him the shower gel.

"Spoilsport." Peter washed her back instead.