Now Mother's Gone Pt. 01

When movie night was next suggested you were not particularly surprised to find out it was a more erotic slice of entertainment than last time. Though still a film with actual plot rather than simply grunting plumbers and squealing housewives. Your daughter was clearly making the most of her new found levels of freedom, but you couldn't say it wasn't doing you both good. You felt much more relaxed about what happened last time, it was, as she said, most likely just down to how pent up you'd been. As for her, you'd noticed a whole new level of colour in her cheeks and spring in her step. She was happy, where before she had not been, at least not really. Only now could you see it. At last the shadow of her mother's absence was beginning to lift. If all it took was a little more freedom from social taboos around the house to achieve that, well it was certainly worth it in your mind. So you agreed, contentedly ordering pizza and laying out on her carefully prepared fort of cushions.

The pair of you laughed and ate, cuddled up as before and more relaxed in each other's presence than ever before. Then the food ran out and the movie began to get a bit more racy and you found yourself pinned back once more between the sofa cushions and your daughter's wriggling bottom. Your cock arose once more as if to demand its own space in the equation, but you simply ignored its single minded insistence. That is, until your daughter's whisper trailed back: "Hmmm, Dad? You're poking me in the back a bit.. Could you just..." Suddenly you felt a small, cool hand reaching down between the two of you, searching for the source of her discomfort. With an intake of breath you knew she'd found it and had precisely no time to complain as she popped your shorts open and grasped it firmly. Then, in one smooth movement, she shuffled herself up and back some more, opening her thighs to feed your shaft through.

"There, that's much better!" She murmured contentedly, turning her interest back to the characters on screen. Leaving you stranded without chance of complaint; your hot, throbbing self trapped between two walls of cool, pink flesh. Rushing back came the nervousness, the heart-clenching desire. You tightened your embrace of her and held on for dear life, all-the-while your mind being consumed by the soft pinch of those milky thighs. Above, you could feel her panties, warmer and... possibly even a little damp... Your hooked shaft curled up with them, following the contours of her out to the other side where the head breathed fresh air, wanting nothing more than to be pulled back through. That was all you wanted, all you burned for... to pull back and push forward. To feel that cleft of skin and muscle catch and release you like the gates of heaven. You couldn't. You shouldn't. It would be taking advantage of your sweet girl who just wanted some comfort in ways she wouldn't even consider.

And you didn't even need to... Her ass began moving on its own once more. Shuffling forward and back. Twisting left and right. It sent shivers up your spine, tightening and loosening the grip of her legs. Sliding your length up and down the varying textures of her panties. Every flex of her long legs was telegraphed to you, every twist of a foot. You stopped watching the inconsequential lovers on screen and were buried in the mixed feelings of this moment. Your hands had locked to her breasts as if automatically and you could not stop them now, kneading and squeezing in time with her shifting hips down below. You heard her breath begin to catch and knew that she too had lost focus on the film, but could not stop your own pelvis beginning to move. Pushing back against every buck of her you felt the gap tighten as she entwined her ankles together, forcing you up, up into that cotton-covered cleft between her legs. Pistoning harder and faster now, almost to the point where it could be considered you were fucking your daughter's thighs. You lost all sense of rhyme and reason in the world. Until at last, with shuddering relief, you came. Spraying silver trails across her inner thighs and out into the room beyond. Then you both lay there gasping, still locked together deflating until the film finally ended, some 10 minutes later.

There were no credits, so you were simply left wallowing in darkness, your daughter's head resting upon your chest, her hair tickling you under the chin slightly. "Dad..." She mumbled sleepily. "If you're going to cum like that you really ought to warn me... you've made an awful mess again..." She yawned, loudly and happily. "Oh well, I'm sure we'll figure something out..." Then she dozed, fitfully, on top of you, until the night's chill persuaded you to carry her up to her bed.

Chapter 5

The day after was a Saturday and you spent the whole of it in a daze. Your daughter, by comparison, was incredibly chipper. Rushing round the house doing chores she never would have volunteered for before. She even wore a full set of clothes, for a change, skinny jeans and a loose blouse, though clearly with a push up bra. What she had for cleavage was presented for you every time she bustled over to dote on you or offer you a sandwich. And dote she did, treating you like an invalid with a headcold rather than the wretched man who had used her thighs like goalposts last night. Come late in the afternoon you were sat in the lounge watching nothing very much on tv and trying not to stare at some freshly scrubbed patches on the carpet. That had clearly been the first job she'd taken to this morning, cleaning up your leavings like it was a fully expected chore.

When she had run out of jobs to do she came over to join you. Flicking the tv immediately over to a porn channel, she simply sat and watched. Absorbing the erotic material without resorting to playing with herself, as if watching strangers invade each other was entertainment in itself, the wet slap of their meetings a music to her ears. You yourself simply stared blankly at the screen, feeling your cock harden once more, for all its sins. You were still wearing yesterday's boxers. You felt dirty and worthless and empty. After about 15 minutes and a scene change you felt an arm reaching out across you. Your daughter had shuffled closer on the sofa, but had pulled out a book, offering you no particular interest whatsoever. Except... for that one hand. Which quite calmly reached over, opened up your boxers and took hold of your penis. She did it like it was nothing. Like the meat in her hand was part of her own body. Like such was an average part of any Saturday afternoon. She began stroking you up and down, curling her fingers and thumb around you while she continued to read. Her small, cool hand both soothing and arousing you as it took to its work absentmindedly. You sat frozen, weighed down by the intensity of how dull and normal the atmosphere of this day felt, despite the rising waves of pleasure spreading up you. It was a crashing battle of senses and sensibilities. This couldn't be happening. This shouldn't be happening. But at the same time there seemed no reason for it to stop, no police descending from the rafters, no heavenly outrage. Your daughter didn't act like you were leading her down some depraved fantasy into darkness and mental illness. She simply moved her hand up and down while focussing on other things. A girl comforting her father when he seemed out of sorts.

Still, the waves of it kept building up. Paralyzed or not you felt the rise of your climax approaching, the unskilled work of her palm good enough to get the job done. Glancing over she could clearly tell what was coming. "Oh, are you going to cum Dad? Let's not make a mess like yesterday. I had no idea how hard it was to get spunk out of the carpet." She chuckled, putting down her book but continuing to slide her other hand up and down, a steady pace, never ceasing. She slid off the sofa onto her knees and shuffled round in front of you, in between your legs. Still working away at masturbating you she now aimed such at herself, looking up at you with soft eyes and a warm smile. "Here, pour it onto me. I was going to have a shower in a minute anyway... saves us going to find some tissues."

You wanted to complain. Wanted to scream: 'No! You weren't going to use your own daughter as a cum rag!'. But it was all coming too fast. Everything was changing so fast. Had you already missed the point where you could speak up? With a heaving groan you came, spurting one, two, three, four trails of slimy gunk at the waiting face before you. Most landed across her breast bone, the open top of her blouse inviting it to slide down between her cleavage in a little puddle. One line streaked up across her face though, reaching from her lips to her fringe. She laughed as it forced her to close one eye, a silver bead caught in her lashes.

"See now isn't that better? You've been grumpy all day... but I bet you feel a hundred times more relaxed now, no?"

It was true. As shaming as it was... your shoulders felt lighter and head felt clearer than it had all day. It was as if a huge weight had been lifted from you just at the very moment you ejaculated on her. It was a feeling of euphoric nonchalance. A giant 'fuck it' to all the troubles of the world.

"You need to stop panicking so much about every little thing. Over the past week I've felt so much happier than ever before. It's because we're closer than we've ever been Dad, we're helping each other out where we need it most. I don't mind getting a bit sticky once in awhile if it means helping the man who's looked after me all these years. It saves the carpet at least..." She laughed and licked a drop of semen from her lips experimentally. "In fact, maybe next time you should just cum in my mouth... It doesn't taste that bad... just a bit salty. I'm sure I could gulp down a mouthful or two, the porn stars almost seem to live off the stuff!"

You gulped at the thought. She was already considering a 'next time'. Talking openly about swallowing your semen without a care for connotations. Wasn't this wrong? Wasn't this incest?! I mean, it wasn't like you were having sex with her. You weren't forcing her to do anything at all. She was just... helping. Cheering you up. Cleaning your messes. But still, as a father shouldn't you step up here and place some boundaries? Make sure you weren't taking advantage? The words just wouldn't come. Not while she idly dipped a finger between her breasts, hunted down another droplet of her potential siblings, and sucked at it thoughtfully. She laughed again. "Come on then mopey! Come jump in the shower with me and help me clean up."

Chapter 6

Once again you were encased with your daughter in a womb of hot water. Seeing it flow over her naked form was like travelling back in time, to moments spent watching her mother jump in and out of waterfalls. Yet, there was also a sense of something better here. Your wife had danced naked in the spray purely for her own love of the sensation. Your daughter seemed almost to direct her every movement at you, as if each curve of her form was a gift she offered your eyes. Here, cut off from the outside world by that wall of water, you finally felt safe to truly appreciate her beauty. From pointing nipples on small, soft breasts to slender hips just beginning to fill out into those of a woman, she was perfect. A flower caught just at the moment it was opening to the world.

She rinsed the remaining semen out from between her tits and flashed you a dazzling smile. "There now. Much easier to clean up. I think you should use me whenever you feel the need to shoot a load out Dad... It'll save us a fortune on tissues at least." Her giggle was cheeky but proud, that of one first learning the joy of dirty thoughts and lewd words. "Whenever you like, you don't even have to ask. Just whip it out and spray all over me!" She came close to you, reaching out a hand to just idly lay a fingertip or two upon your cock. "And if you ever need some help... I'd be more than happy to. It's probably about time I got some practice with one of these... you know... for educational purposes... Wouldn't you much rather I was safe with you than playing around with the idiot boys in my classes?"

Still, words failed you. As if assenting to her calmly laid out logic would damn you to it, yet refusal might break the spell of this miracle. You helped her wash, running a sponge diligently along every crease and crevice she instructed you to. You let her do the same for you, basking in the extended period she spent chasing foam around your genitals, closing your eyes and letting the sensations take over. Then you both got out. Wrapped each other in fluffy towels and retired to your own rooms. Each shut apart by one thin wall as the evening slipped away to night.

You couldn't sleep. Tossing and turning at the thought of what had happened today. At the thought of her lying not 10 feet away. By some ungodly hour of the morning you were half-crazed with horniness. You just had to see her. Had to confirm such a creature was truly your daughter, not a dream you'd lived in all these years. The door to her room was ajar, as if left that way just to invite this visit. Yet she was asleep. Sprawled out upon her bed with covers kicked askew, her pyjamas ruffled up to reveal a bare stomach... and a hand still trapped down their waistband. You tiptoed closer, till you could see the rise and fall of her chest, hear the quiet hiss of her breaths. In the silver moonlight she was a picture, an artwork, a frozen image of erotic perfection. Pornographic publications would have paid a fortune just to stand where you did now, to steal this softcore scene and sell it to the baying masses.

Look, that was all you had meant to do... but now you found a quivering hand reaching out to lift her top, bunching it up to reveal her chest. Your other reached down to find your body's greatest source of discomfort. You drew the traitorous thing out and began stroking it as you watched her. She moved a little in her sleep, but did not wake. Turning more onto her back her pink lips drifted open a little more, murmuring something unintelligible. Something that could almost have been "Daddy..." if you dreamt at it hard enough. Were you really going to do this? Take up the offer she surely should not have given. Use your closest human connection as nothing more than a dump for your liquid perversions? It seemed too late to stop now, the rising waves of pleasure growing within your clenching fist as her beauty and innocence were laid out before you. It didn't take long. Within scant minutes you were at the point of no return, aiming directly at those plump little lips. You shot yourself across her bow once more, white trails flashing in the moonlight. Still she did not wake, even as the creamy liquid splashed down and instantly began to cool upon her cheek. You tucked yourself away and fled back to bed, sleeping more soundly than you had in months.

Chapter 7

You were eating breakfast when she came down next morning, idly picking at some of the dried substance still streaked upon her face. She yawned and poured herself some cereal, settling down opposite you to munch away. "You took me up on my offer sooner than I thought you would. Not that I'm complaining... ooh it was a funny, fuzzy feeling waking up to find my face all crusty! I wish you'd got more on me than on my pillow though Dad, that'll need to go in the laundry."

You mumbled an apology through your toast, but she waved it away. "It's okay, it must've been hard to aim in the dark... Maybe go for my tits or belly next time? Or! I wonder if you could just pop it in my mouth while I'm snoring?! Would I choke? We'll have to test it while I'm awake!"

The almost scientific enthusiasm she was putting into these considerations was terrifying. Why was she so excited by this? Was she truly just trying to put on a brave face for her twisted monster of a father? Even in this moment she was idly reaching out one of her long, slender legs to caress you under the table.

She didn't clean up all day, lounging around in her pejays wearing your cum like a badge of honour. It was creepily endearing just how happy she was that you'd used her in such a fashion. As if that night time invasion of her private sanctum was a moment of achievement she'd been aiming at for years. A graduation on her path to womanhood. Throughout the entire day she would pop up every hour or so to pester you: 'Did you need to get any more out?' 'How about now?' 'Would you like to masturbate with her during lunch?' 'Could she just see what you taste like? Just for a second?' It was all very wearying, breaking down your resistance by the pure fact that, deep down, you didn't want to resist at all.

Come the evening you were exhausted, simply from trying to play out a sunday in normality. You collapsed into a lounge bathed in red twilight and turned the news on. Like a circling shark she appeared, as if sensing her moment was here, your defenses were drooping. She stalked over to lie on the sofa next to you, her head on your lap. You made no acknowledgement of her presence. So she didn't even ask for approval. Light fingers simply began to play over the fly of your jeans, tiptoeing round the moment they plucked it open. Once your manhood was free it became a plaything, a source of endless fascination and experimentation. Fingertips traced its length, crept down to its balls, entwined gently squeezing nets up and down it. A wet tongue finally found its moment. Delicately reaching out to the tip, then following those fingers guidance, slipping up and down and around. You simply sat there and tried not to feel like an Egyptian pharaoh or mafia drug lord. Sat upon a throne so corrupt and unquestionable that your own child would dedicate herself solely to the exploration of ways to pleasure you.

And pleasure you she did. You tried to focus on the usual cavalcade of tragedies and comedic fallacies the anchor lady unveiled, but were lost in a world beyond their coverage. Your daughter played you like her first recorder, finding the notes that stuck by running through an avalanche of curiosity. She licked at you, lapped at you, tickled you, tapped on you. She set her lips astride you and gently nibbled. She sucked at the head as hard as she could, then blew bubbles of saliva and precum along your shaft. She took you in her cheeks and held you there, storing you in those wet, warm chambers like a chipmunk. She kissed your balls and sucked on them, giggling as the hairs tickled the roof of her mouth and the weight of your cock fell against her face.

All the while and through one tantalising, sensual experience after another you came to realise one true over-arching fact: She loved this. She was happier than you'd seen her in years, even before her mother left. She looked only as she once had on shining christmas mornings, when a new toy had been unwrapped and it was obvious this one would be her favourite for untold years to come. She tried swallowing you deeper. Orientating her mouth so that she could gulp you down into the back of her throat. You felt the tip of you reach that tighter passage... but be rejected. Spluttered back up as she gagged and choked. You glanced down in concern, but your determined child didn't even turn away from her task for a second. She drove her head back down, forcing your length just a little further in before once again jerking back up in a fit of drooling coughs. You tried to reach out a hand to stroke her hair, to console her. But she was already drawing another great breath and descending once more. You tangled your fingers in her soft hair and tried to indicate that this was not necessary, but you already knew how stubborn she could be. A lighter hand reached up and enlaced itself on top of your own, applying insistent downward pressure. She wanted you to force her down onto you, to utilise her own father's strength to bypass her body's natural reflexes. You were worried you might hurt her, worried you might suffocate her. Yet at the same time the pulsating feeling of her throat struggling to hold you was intense and incredible. That little hand continued insisting: deeper. Deeper! It was an order you couldn't refuse.