Maybe, Maybe Not Ch. 02

(for Pam, because you asked...)

"-I should have been a musician," Amy's father said. "There's good money in it."

They shared the three seater couch with an empty space between them. On TV the Blues Brothers were playing a gig at Bob's Country Bunker.

Amy smiled. He had a guitar in his bedroom and couldn't play a note.

She liked to watch her father watch TV. If it was something he liked he often smiled to himself.

Now he smiled at his own joke and turned back to the screen. The only light in the room came from the TV and it flickered on his face painting shadows then erasing them.

-If he was going to touch her she wondered how he'd start. Her skirt was short, even shorter now she was sitting down.

Perhaps he'd do something lame like a shy guy in the cinema; stretch, then put his arm around her?

Or would she feel his big hand on her knee, gently caressing before slowly moving higher as they both stared at the TV as if nothing was happening?

Would she dare to open her legs?

She didn't know. She might, the way she was feeling then.

Amy wondered absently if there was something wrong with her. It seemed all she thought about lately was...

-sex-

-masturbation-

-her father-

And those kinds of thoughts always made her heart beat a little faster. Made her feel nice inside...

-guilty, but nice..

She played with her hair and watched the movie. Sometimes she glanced at her father as she wondered just how aware of her he was; like right now he could be thinking how short her skirt was, stealing glances at her legs...

-dreaming about her panties-

-wondering what colour they were-

-perhaps even thinking about touching her and wondering how she'd react..

The thought occurred to her that they could both be thinking along the same sexy lines and neither of them would ever know.

That was kind of exciting and sad at the same time and Amy sighed and was surprised when her father turned to look at her.

-Was it that loud a sigh?

"All right?" he asked.

She nodded and smiled.

"-Bored?"

"Nope."

"We could watch something else."

"This is all right."

He looked at her a moment longer; what was he thinking? She didn't know. She couldn't know.

He turned back to the TV, crossed his feet at the ankles, and stretched out his legs.

In the stories she enjoyed everything just happened, one thing followed another, someone made the first move and it all went from there...

-hot father, daughter action...

-big, warm hands on soft, sensitive skin...

-experienced fingers...

-panting and breathless whispers...

Amy was aware of her body reacting predictably to her thoughts and she gently squeezed her thighs together. -If only real life was the same as stories, she thought. If only she knew what he was thinking, or if he even thought of her that way at all...

-if only this, if only that...

I'm sitting in the dark beside him and I'm wet, she thought, with an accompanying secret thrill of pleasure.

She pressed her bottom a little deeper into the soft couch.

-I'm wet Daddy...

-do you know how wet?

-let me show you..

Thinking about it was pretty wild and made her even wetter.

She had to resist the urge to squirm. She had to control her breathing and concentrated on taking long, deep breaths. And all the time she stared unseeing at the TV- the picture was just a blur of colour- as she felt the warm pulsing waves emanating from her vagina and spreading throughout her body.

-And becoming more urgent, more demanding, by the second.

She felt bad; naughty bad.

Sometime, next time they watched a movie, she wouldn't wear any panties. She'd sit beside him with her vagina open and bare under her short skirt...

-and wet...

-and she'd open her legs just a little...

And she wouldn't wear a bra and she'd watch him closely to see if he noticed her nipples.

Amy fingers gripped the edge of the couch as her fantasy carried her away.

She'd pretend to fall asleep with her legs open just like in the stories.

He'd look at her, rest his hand on her leg, then move it cautiously higher, lifting her skirt as it went.

She might moan or sigh or pout as she pretended to dream.

-and whisper 'Daddy?' as his thick finger traced the wetness there, exploring..

-and let him gently ease her knees still wider apart...

-until he could see everything and watch what his finger was doing..

-sliding wetly deeper with delicious, unbearable slowness..

-all the way in, then slowly out; in, and slowly out; then a little faster, and two fingers..

-two thick, slick, pumping, plunging fingers...

-her father's fingers-

-making wet sex noises between her legs...

Amy realised she couldn't sit there a second longer, couldn't bear the agony of desire, the urgent need to cum a second longer.

She stood up quickly; too quickly, and got a head rush. And now her father was looking at her but she couldn't look at him. Her face was hot and burning; he'd know something was wrong. She avoided looking at him. He was a shape on the couch at the edge of her vision.

"-I just remembered when when. I just remembered when I was upstairs. –The computer. I think I left the computer on. Upstairs..."

She couldn't talk, couldn't think; had to go, and she turned away and hurried from the room, blushing furiously.

She wasn't aware of climbing the stairs or opening doors but next she knew she was in her room intent on only one thing.

Her room was dark except for a square of yellow light on the wall from a streetlamp across the road.

She climaxed almost the instant her hand touched her wet panties. She shuddered and bit her lip but it wasn't enough.

Still standing, and with one hand braced on her computer work station she slipped her other hand inside her panties.

She moaned softly with deep pleasure; -it felt so good.

Her finger played around her clitoris and she opened her mouth as the breath caught in her throat...

-and she rocked her hips..

-as her finger caressed..

-magically...

-faster..

-and faster...

Her hair hung down about her face as her vagina spasmed..

-as her hips jerked-

-as her climax exploded-

-claiming her-

-and killing her-

With a cry of pure pleasure and release Amy jerked at the waist, once, twice. She doubled over and her knees bent and she slipped to the floor, lost in the throes of orgasm.