Her Daddy's Dick

She said, "Good night, Daddy," kissed my cheek, and left.

My eyes devoured the fat curvature of Vicca's ass, and I cursed myself for it.

***

I spent the weeks that followed working hard and forgetting what had happened with Denise and Vicca. I did my best to ignore the bizarre fact that my daughter was worried about my cock. I tried to suppress the desire to scrutinize Vicca's body.

Two months after having sex with my wife for the first time in years and at the end of a terrible August heatwave, a derecho struck. It was after midnight when the sudden blast of air rocked our home. I woke in an instant and ran to the window.

Certain it was a tornado, I threw open my door just as Vicca was running up to it.

"Tornado, Daddy?" she asked, her eyes huge and fearful.

"Maybe. Let's get you to the basement."

I took her hand and we darted down two flights to the basement.

"I didn't hear any siren," Vicca said on the way down.

"Me neither. Still don't."

The house groaned under a fresh blast of intense wind.

"Come on," I urged her.

I hurried her to the northwest corner of the basement where years ago I had placed two old mattresses, one on the floor and one against the wall.

"Stay here," I said, "I'm fetching your momma."

"Hurry, Daddy!"

I ran back upstairs, scooped my wife into my arms, and carried her down. The sparse food she could take had brought her back to teenager weight. I guessed she was under 120 pounds. Still, at 53 it wasn't easy carrying her.

I set her on the mattress, and then I sat between the two ladies, listening.

It was almost auction time for the cattle, but I wasn't as worried about them. It was the fence, the windpumps, the barns, and the house that concerned me.

Still, the fierce wind kept walloping the house.

Tornados didn't usually last this long. "It's not a tornado; it's a derecho," I said.

"We haven't had one of them since I was a kid."

"They're pretty rare, especially at night," I acknowledged.

"Is the worst past us?"

"Not necessarily. This can go on for more than an hour," I explained. "There'll be a lot of work to do in the next week. Just hope that everything's still standing when this is over."

"The cattle?"

"Most of 'em should be fine."

After ten more minutes of thrashing gusts, Vicca laid on her side to sleep. I stayed up for another twenty minutes, but I was tired. I glanced down at Vicca.

She was in a short, spaghetti strap nightgown. I saw how her waist sloped up to her hip and how the girth of her round bottom almost drew the light fabric tight. I saw her smooth, hearty thighs.

I laid on my side, facing Denise.

"Daddy?" Vicca said behind me.

"Hmm?"

"Will you hold me? I'm scared a little."

I thought about it for a moment, and then I rolled onto my other side and put my arm around Vicca's tummy. She snuggled into me, whispering, "Thank you."

Listening to the howling wind, I fell asleep.

I had many strange dreams that night; night storms did that to me. Most of the ones from that night I don't remember, but the last one I do in part because it woke me up.

Denise was there, her old self again, and she was scared. She was hollering things to me in the wind, only she wasn't yelling at my face. She was on her knees, speaking to my cock. I don't remember her words; I only recall the feeling that she wanted my dick to give her something—and it wasn't cum.

At some point, she rubbed her cheek against my penis, and I started to grow hard. I said, "Denise if you put your mouth on it, it'll give you what you're after."

She did. She wrapped her lips around the front couple of inches and sucked gently. She didn't ride it with her lips like usual; she just held it there, every now and then coaxing at it with her tongue.

It felt wonderful, being in her mouth again, and I came. Only Denise didn't swallow it like she normally would. She looked at me and shook her head. Denise, I guessed, didn't think it was what she needed, but I somehow knew it was—that she was wrong. She drew back to the tip and kind of let the cum dribble down her chin and over my cock.

I said, "Denise, no. Don't spit it out."

And I woke. The derecho had passed. There was some light.

I was on my side. Vicca's hair was in front of me. I looked down.

My erection had somehow snaked through the front slit of my pajama bottoms. The head of my cock was wedged between the two big globes of Vicca's butt. I felt cum all over us down there.

Without a moment's hesitation, I drew myself from her. Watching in horror as my semen dribbled down Vicca's ass, I felt like a kid who just snuck off with his father's tractor and totaled it. Terror flooded me.

What the hell do I do? There was no way to clean her up without waking her. What could I possibly say?

Vicca's voice interrupted my panic. My heart jumped into my throat when I heard her.

Never turning to face me, she said, "It's okay, Daddy. I knew you were just having one of your special dreams. I heard you say Momma's name."

"I don't—I didn't mean to..."

"Don't be sorry. It wasn't your fault. I don't mind that it happened."

"You—you weren't wearing panties?"

"I don't hardly sleep in them ever."

"And you—you were awake while—while...?" I could not say the words.

She rolled to face me, saying, "I woke up when I felt your penis start to get hard, and it kind of just grew there inside, not—you know—inside. Not inside my butthole."

I cringed at her words. "How long was I like that?" I asked.

"Couple of minutes is all."

"And did I—did I rut against you?"

She shook her head. "Not much, no. You didn't hurt me, Daddy."

"But doggone it!"

"Please don't be upset. I kind of—I didn't mind is all," she said. After a beat, she asked, "Momma was pleasuring you with her mouth—in your dream I mean—wasn't she?"

I didn't answer that. I said, "I am so sorry, Vicca."

"Don't be. You don't have Momma anymore to love and care for your penis."

"That don't mean it's your job," I responded, feeling testy after such a horrendous mistake.

"But, I worry about it, Daddy. You don't know how much I think about your penis."

"Well don't!" I snapped.

Vicca flinched.

I sat up and said, "Excuse me, Vicca."

The first signs of morning showed through the window wells.

I picked up my wife and carried her upstairs, apologizing to Denise once I knew Vicca was out of earshot.

I needed to work.

I needed to forget.

***

We lost all but one of our windpumps and two of our weaners, but nothing else. There were plenty of trees down for firewood, and plenty more branches for the bonfire pit. Stretches of fence needed mending, too, but on a ranch, there's always work of that sort to do.

The August cattle auction went better than expected, and the money made up for the cost of the new windpumps and replacement fencing.

Neither Vicca nor I mentioned the incident in the basement again.

But I struggled.

I felt eighteen again with how often I thought about sex. I fought it; I worked.

I didn't sleep well; I was angry.

Vicca knew it.

Toward the end of September, I made her cry one night.

I got a morning call from a neighbor saying about fifteen of my cattle had gotten out along the southern border of our land. I rode out there and herded them back inside. Then, I spent four hours fixing the gap in the fence line.

The previous week Vicca had been responsible for repairing that section. I hadn't had the chance to check it over. So, when I got back, I called her from the kitchen and chewed her out.

I was probably more forceful than I ought to have been.

She wept and haltingly explained that the ground had been so wet there last week that the new posts wouldn't hold.

She was right, of course. It had rained quite a bit, and it was low ground out there. We'd just had two very dry, very warm early fall days, and when it dried out, the cattle wandered through.

It wasn't her fault. I didn't tell her that, though. I was too angry—not at her anymore, but at myself for losing my temper.

Vicca told me dinner was on the table, and she moped upstairs to her bedroom, still crying.

I sat down at the foot of the stairs, thinking.

I thought about my temper. I didn't get angry like that. I hardly ever yelled at Vicca, and it wasn't for something as silly as a few cattle getting out of the pasture.

I knew the lack of sex was setting me on edge. I also remembered what Vicca had told me about her mother's teachings—that without a woman I might get irritable and make bad decisions.

At the time, I dismissed the notion, but now I had pretty decent evidence.

But what about the two previous years? I asked myself.

During that time, I missed Denise's body, but I didn't go crazy over it. I thought about sex, yes, but work helped me through. I didn't yell or get angry.

Or did I?

I had no idea, but it couldn't go on like this. I went to Vicca's room and knocked on the door.

"Yeah?" she called from the other side.

"Me."

"Are you gonna yell at me again?"

"No, I'm coming to apologize."

"You can come."

I opened the door and stepped inside. Vicca was on her bed, curled up under her blanket.

I cleared my throat and said, "I shouldn't have gotten cross with you, Vicca. I forgot about the rains. It wasn't your fault with the cattle. I know that. You've done a hell of a good job out there as my helper and on those days when I'm on Denise duty and you're running the show. A hell of a job, and I don't know where this ranch would be without you."

She sniffed and rolled to me. "You really think so, Daddy?"

I nodded. "I mean every word."

Wiping her eyes, she thanked me.

I said, "I don't know what came over me tonight, but it may be that you were right about certain things a while back, so I've got a favor to ask of you."

"Anything, Daddy."

"Will you please get your Momma ready for me tonight? I think maybe that might help me."

She sat up. "Really?"

I nodded.

She smiled, saying, "I don't mind. I'll do it."

"Thank you, Vicca."

"Is there anything you want me to do? Anything specific about her?"

"Like before is fine. I don't know. Whatever you think she might be comfortable with."

"Okay. Give me an hour."

I nodded, saying, "But let's eat your dinner first."

***

A bit over an hour later, Vicca knocked on my door and told me Momma was ready for me. She muttered something else, but I didn't hear it. I hadn't felt such a peak of excitement since our wedding night.

I walked out of my bedroom in my pajama bottoms, already hard. When I went into the bedroom, Denise was there for me.

Vicca had lain her out completely naked on her back. Denise's legs were spread wide, and both of her hands were in her crotch. She almost looked like she was pleasuring herself as she waited for me.

Her blonde hair was unbound and spread in thick curls all over the pillow on which she lay. Her lipstick was thick and luxuriously red. Her eyes were dark and bewitching.

I sat beside her on the bed, and I told her how much I loved her and missed her. I told her she was beautiful, and I kissed her lips.

There was nothing.

I kissed them again.

They yielded to mine without response.

I cupped one of her tits and squeezed it. It helped. Her breast felt like it always had, except it was maybe a bit smaller from the weight she'd lost. I climbed between her legs and sucked on the nipple, and then I kissed my way down, down.

I told Denis how much I loved licking her pussy, and then I put my tongue on it. I began in a bit of a frenzy but quickly slowed.

There was no response from her, but what had I expected?

I drew myself up and guided my cock inside of her. It felt wonderful. For almost a minute, I fucked her.

But she didn't do anything. Her almost lifeless eyes stared at the ceiling.

Glancing to my right, I saw the special pillow that Vicca had set up last time.

I hauled Denise's body over it, and I entered her from behind, thinking that maybe not seeing her once vibrant, now vacant eyes might help.

It didn't, not really.

Losing the feeling, I fucked harder. I wanted to cum. I needed to cum.

I slammed my hips into hers, watching the fleshy wave roll over her ass and up her back.

Then, I stopped with a curse. I said, "I'm sorry, Denise," sitting back on my heels and feeling absolutely worthless.

I listened to my breathing come down, disgusted with myself.

"Daddy?"

"Vicca, you shouldn't be here."

She emerged from the bathroom to my left. The door had been open a crack, and when she came out I knew she had been watching the whole thing.

I wasn't upset; I was lost and hopeless. I didn't care that I was naked. I didn't care my wet, half-hard cock was jutting from my crotch like a wilting rose.

Vicca didn't make a sound as she stepped lightly to the edge of the bed beside me. She said, "Daddy?"

I didn't speak.

Vicca reached down. Her hand grasped my cock, and she began gently stroking it.

I was about to put a stop to it, but her delicate touch brought new life to my erection. I felt alive and strong again. I looked at Vicca.

She was admiring my cock in her hand, but she must have felt my stare. She looked at me. Her lips curled into a simple smile—the kind a patient might see from a nurse.

Then, she pulled on it.

I sat up.

She guided me back into her momma. The tip slid inside, but I didn't push home.

I shook my head at Vicca.

She took her Momma's hips and pushed them against me. Denise's pussy began swallowing up my cock. I watched it.

Then, Vicca moaned.

My eyes darted to her face, but hers never strayed from my penis.

Vicca drew Denise's hips back and pushed them against me. Vicca moaned again.

Something like a storm began stirring up inside me.

Vicca rocked Denise's ass into me again, and this time, Vicca cried out, saying, "Yes!"

I took Denise's hips from Vicca and began thrusting.

Vicca gasped in sweet satisfaction as she went to her knees beside the bed. Finding the vantage point she wanted, her eyes riveted to my cock the way a she-coyote leered at a big rooster strutting in the coop.

I was the derecho now. The sound of skin on skin slapping echoed in the room. Vicca's voice urged me on. She told me she loved me. She told me how good it felt. She told me harder. She told me to cum.

I watched Vicca lick her lips as my cock slammed into Denise. I grunted with each drive home, and Vicca began hollering with uninhibited joy.

Everything was too much, too perfect. I slammed one final time, squashed my body against Denise's, and held there as my cock disgorged cum in heavenly jets that seemed to carry with it all of my pent up anger and frustration along with the love and longing I felt for my lost wife.

Exhausted, I collapsed backward on the bed. Before I could do anything about it, Vicca climbed on top of me and hugged me.

She was gasping, too. I felt the warmth of her skin and the early hint of perspiration. "It was so beautiful, Daddy," she cried.

I wrapped her in my arms. I thanked her, and she began kissing my cheeks and forehead. She told me that she loved me.

It occurred to me at that moment that Vicca was in her bedgown—another short, thin-strapped one. Her breasts were heavy, and her taut nipples squashed my chest.

As she showered me with affectionate kisses, I felt her hips sink.

Lower.

Her stomach settled upon mine.

Lower.

I felt her bare legs wrap mine in a soft hug.

Lower.

I felt her pubic hairs on my penis.

She thanked me for letting her help, and I felt her hairs rise from my slippery erection. I sensed the subtle movement of her hips as she repositioned them, just a bit higher.

She lowered herself on me again, and the tip of my cock nestled against Vicca's wet slit.

"Okay, Vicca," I said quickly. "I need to get up."

She might have tried something more as she pushed herself up, but she didn't. She swung her leg off of me, and I sat up.

I said, "Best you not linger in here."

"But, I want to clean up Momma while you get yourself ready for bed," she said.

"Are you sure?"

She nodded.

"Okay, you can get the things you need."

She walked to the bathroom.

I called to her as she pulled the door open.

"Yes, Daddy?"

"It was very special, what you did for me. Thank you."

She grinned, newly reborn in happiness. She said, "I just knew it would help."

"Good night, Vicca."

"'Night, Daddy."

***

Vicca grew very affectionate with me in the days that followed. She sneaked kisses on my lips—like when she was headed out the door while I was reading the paper and when I wasn't paying close enough attention at bedtime. She rubbed my shoulders every chance she got. Often, I felt her breasts grazing me while she did it, and I wondered if it was intentional.

One evening, she knocked on the door of my room.

She asked if I might scratch her back. She was in her regular—a short-length nightgown that strained against the surging girth of her breasts and ass, barely covering the tops of her thighs.

She sat on the edge of my bed, so I didn't have to sit up to reach her. Not long after starting, she sighed, telling me how nice it felt.

A minute later, she asked if I might scratch on her skin, under her nighty.

When I didn't respond for a moment, she said, "Not take it off, I mean. Just reach under sort of." She sat up for a moment and flipped the bottom hem out from under her so that I could easily slide my hand inside.

I did. As my hand rose on her back, scratching in circles a bit higher each time, the fluffy frills along the bottom of the gown climbed, too.

The top half of Vicca's bare butt appeared. I fixated upon it because she sat very pertly, as if she were arching her back to deliberately thrust her ass toward me. It was a gorgeous sight.

I scratched even higher, bringing more of her young, cream-colored flesh into view. Vicca's figure was voluptuously feminine. Her waist, though difficult to call narrow, certainly appeared as such when one took into account the breadth of her hips.

For a fleeting instant, I imagined my hands gripping those hips, my thumbs pressed into that ass, and my cock sinking home in Vicca's pussy.

I stopped scratching, silently chiding myself.

Vicca took the pause as an opportunity to reposition herself. She scooted back and laid on her side in front of me.

I could not say a word. I knew what would happen when I began scratching. I knew it was wrong, but I had to see.

I snaked my hand under her gown and began making light circles on her back with my fingernails.

Higher.

And higher.

And, oh damn.

The whole thing. I could see all of Vicca's glorious butt.

It was a work of art. The two halves ballooned from her lower back. Laying on her side accentuated the sweeping arch of her hip. But there was something more.

Maybe it was the coloring of her skin—creamy white, but with a hint of pink. Maybe it had something to do with how soft and feminine it appeared before me. I'm not sure I have the answer, but Vicca's butt had a kind of shy vulnerability that made it all the more desirable.

I have never been one to get rough—even in play—but I wanted to do two things to that big ass. I wanted to spank it for being disobedient, and then I wanted to kiss it and make it feel better.

My cock was a veritable ax handle. The head surged against the cotton fabric of my pajama pants, and a slight adjustment of my hips sent the naked shaft plummeting through the front slit into the open air. The purple front bulb hovered behind Vicca's ass at less than a horseshoe's width.

Battling myself, I concentrated on the back scratch, hoping it would put out the fire in my loins.

The plan worked until Vicca began making little sounds. My fingernails slid around, and she hummed. She sighed. She let slip tiny moans of pleasure.