Rachel's Research Ch. 03: Emily & James

Then it actually happened.

My heart stopped beating as my father's erect penis forced its way through the tight entrance and into my welcoming vagina. As it entered my body for the first time it felt massive; huge. Surely nothing that large could possibly fit into the tight little hole between my legs.

There was more pressure; I felt my entrance being stretched and my inner cavern being filled.

"Please... Please be gentle," I whispered.

"I promise, Princess!"

He pressed slowly forwards, I could feel him entering me inch by inch; stretching my entrance tighter than it had ever been stretched before. I could feel tears welling in my eyes; the strength of the emotions rising within me was almost unbearable.

There was a sudden flash of pain from my vagina. I grunted. He paused.

"Does it hurt?" he asked anxiously.

I nodded.

"Do you want me to stop?"

I blinked, my eyes tearful but fixed firmly on his; I did not want him to stop. I shook my head again.

Dad smiled, pulled back a little then, slowly but surely, pressed himself forward.

The sharp pain returned; I bit my lip hard as my father's erect penis sawed its way deeper into my body. His pace was slow but forceful, confident but caring. The feelings of love that had been so strong before, now became overwhelming. Tears began to roll down my cheeks.

"Is it your first time?" he asked anxiously, slowing his pace but not stopping.

I shook my head.

"Does it hurt?"

"It doesn't matter."

My vulva was now lubricating for all it was worth as my body adjusted to the huge presence within it. Three more slow but positive thrusts and my juices had loosened my body's grip on his shaft considerably. The pace of his thrusts increased; quickly establishing a slow but steady rhythm.

Slap. Slap. Slap. Slap.

It was happening; we were making love. My father's erect cock was moving in and out of my vagina as if I was his real girlfriend. The pain was fading fast and the feelings of pleasure were rising sharply too.

I began to moan softly, my legs flopping open, my arms rising to stroke the hips and waist that were driving the invading phallus in and out of me.

Slap. Slap. Slap. Slap.

The feelings growing within me were like nothing I had ever imagined. My defloration had been exciting but an entirely physical experience. There had been no love on either side.

Giving myself to the man I truly loved was another thing completely. Both the emotions and sensations were on another plane, but this was so much more than just pleasure. The feeling of our two souls becoming one as our two bodies had become one is all but impossible to describe, but the deeper my father's body penetrated mine, the closer we became.

Slap. Slap. Slap. Slap.

Now, after seven wonderful years together, I understand what a caring and sensitive lover my father actually is. At the time all I knew was that I was being shown a whole new world of love and pleasure that I had believed existed but had never dreamed could be so profound.

Unfortunately, I also knew that this proficiency in bed had come though long experience. Before he and I got together, my good-looking Dad had been with a large number of lovers but had had very few lasting relationships. Even now with his ring on my finger and his baby in my belly, I find it painful to think of him with another woman; holding her hand, kissing her lips, doing the things he and I now do so often.

But this is now. Back then, the only thing on my mind was the presence of his wonderful body deep within mine.

Slap. Slap. Slap. Slap.

"Oh God! Oh God Daddyyyy!"

Over the years, I was to have many orgasms in bed with my Dad, most of them more powerful than the first climax he gave me that first night. But that is the one I remember most; the one that made me the latest and I hope, the last of his many female conquests.

My body shook uncontrollably beneath him as my name joined the long list carved into his bedpost. My fingers dug hard into his arms and shoulders and my mouth gaped open as the unfamiliar mix of pleasure and pain surged outwards from deep within my groin.

Slap-slap-slap-slap!

Reading my rising arousal, Dad increased his pace sharply with immediate results.

"Oh my God! Oh my God! Oh my God!"

I remember wondering what on earth was happening as my first real, vaginal orgasm hit me. I remember losing control of my legs, of them flopping open wide then wrapping themselves around my Dad's thighs. As the sensations grew stronger I was sure I was about to pee myself but was completely unable to do anything but let it all happen.

Slap-slap-slap-slap! Slap-slap-slap-slap!

"OhmyGod! OhmyGod!"

Dad's pace grew faster still. Though I didn't understand it then, he was bringing himself to his own climax. It had a powerful effect on me too, the intensity of my orgasm building and building.

Slap-slap-slap-slap! Slap-slap-slap-slap!

"OhmyGodOhmyGodOhmhGod!"

"Oh Em!" Dad's croaking voice mirrored my own words, his voice breathy and broken. "Princess! Princess!"

"Daddy! Daddy!" I wailed in return.

His thrusts grew faster still.

"Are you safe?" he gasped. "Quickly Em! Is it okay to cum?"

Not understanding what he meant, all I could think was that he was worried he had hurt me. It simply did not cross my mind that he wanted to know if I was on birth control; whether it was safe to cum inside me or if he needed to pull out urgently.

Right then I was not on birth control; it was emphatically not safe to cum inside me and he definitely did need to pull out but the message was missed completely.

"It's okay! It's okay!" I gasped, entirely wrongly.

Slap-slap-slap-slap-slap-slap-slap-slap!

The sudden increase in the pace and force of his thrusts took me by surprise but did not last long.

Within seconds, my Dad's rhythm became erratic, his body went stiff, his face contorted into an ugly grimace that alarmed me and he began to thrust himself into my body with a violence that drove me bodily up the bed.

Eventually my inexperienced mind realised what was about to happen, but even then the risk of pregnancy did not cross my mind.

With a final few frighteningly-powerful strokes, my father reached only the third full male climax I had ever seen in my life, and began to ejaculate inside me. His rhythm completely broken, I felt the huge shaft that was filling my entire body begin to throb as his seed burst from his pulsating cock and cascaded against the entrance to my young, fertile womb.

"JesusChriiiiist Emilyyyy!"

The grimaces that crossed his handsome face as he came were frightening but the words that accompanied them belied their coarseness.

"Oh Godddd Emmilyyyyy! Oh Princess! Oh my sweet Princess!"

Dad's climax seemed to last forever, his cock throbbing deep within me as he filled me with his seed. It was without any doubt the most intense physical and emotional experience of my young life. I writhed beneath him, my own body still reeling from the unfamiliar orgasms that had shaken me to my core.

Eventually his ejaculation came to an end and I began to descend from my own orgasmic state. The pumping within me slowed to a halt and he held himself over me panting, his face only inches above mine, his large male body dwarfing my tiny female frame.

The silence that filled the room was unnerving as the reality of what we had just done began to dawn on us. My fathers erection vanished in a moment then slipped from my vagina, leaving me feeling strangely empty inside.

He rolled off and lay alongside me, both of us on our backs, for a moment barely able to look at each other.

Emily's story became more coherent from here so the words that follow are once again mostly hers.

"What was going through your mind?" I asked, a little taken aback and more than a little aroused myself by the power and intensity of her story.

"I didn't know what to think. My mind was spinning."

I could well imagine it was.

"If I had been in love with my Dad before, that feeling was doubly strong now. It was right in my face too, no longer hidden behind ideas of mere family affection. I was deeply, deeply in love and in lust but frightened at the intensity of my feelings as well as the physical things we had just done.

"I started to feel very insecure. What if he didn't feel the same? What if he felt disgusted with me now? It dawned on me that I really didn't know him that well. Then I remembered in horror that he had been with a lot of girls in his life and hadn't stayed with any of them.

"What if the same happened to me? What if he didn't want me anymore now that he'd had me?"

Though perhaps magnified, these were the agonies so many girls go through after their first time in bed with a new lover. I had experienced them myself more times that I should confess. Emily was inexperienced so didn't yet know this.

"I was still getting aftershocks from my orgasms too. That was scary in itself."

"Did you realise you'd had unprotected sex too?" I volunteered.

"That didn't occur to me until a few days afterwards," she told me shame-faced. "Even then all I did was hope and pray and wait for my period to arrive. Which it did thank God!"

She had not always thought that way as her current highly pregnant condition made clear.

"So what did happen?" I asked.

"I don't know for sure what was going through his head but he seemed to understand how I was feeling. He rolled close and held me tightly in his arms, nuzzling my hair and stroking my neck and back while I cried and cried."

"What did he say?"

"Nothing at all. He just held me while it all came out. I cried until there were no tears left to come then fell asleep in his arms."

"And the next day?"

"I wasn't sure what to do. I'm ashamed to say I pretended to still be asleep until after he had gone to work. Then I got showered and dressed and went to school as usual. It was a washout; I couldn't concentrate at all. I went back to Grandma's after school and tried to act as if nothing had happened. It wasn't easy when my body still tingled from what had happened."

"And your Dad?"

"He sent me a dozen text messages during the day to see if I was okay but I didn't know how to answer them. I was very mixed up as you can imagine but was mostly scared that he might not want me. I'd never felt so strongly about anyone in my life before. Something inside me kept saying that I didn't deserve him and he couldn't possibly feel the same way about me."

"Weren't you worried you'd had sex with your own father?" I asked.

"To be honest, no," she replied and I believed her. "I didn't really think of it that way. I was just worried I'd lost the respect of the man I'd fallen in love with."

"So what happened?"

"He came to Grandma's house that evening. I think he made sure she would be out and I would be on my own. I was really nervous when I let him in. He had brought flowers but he just put them down and for a long time we were really awkward with each other.

"He asked me how I was; I said I was okay. He asked me if I regretted what had happened; I asked him if he regretted it. It went on like that - being cold and awkward - for ages before he said he'd better leave."

She was getting emotional again so I waited for her to regain her composure.

"When he went towards the door, I couldn't control myself any longer and just burst into tears yet again. He acted on instinct, rushed back and held me tightly. That made it all worse; once I was back in his arms I cried even more.

"He stroked my back and arms to try and calm me. I remember him nuzzling my hair and saying everything would be all right. I remember him turning my face towards his. I was all puffy-eyed and snotty-nosed from crying and must have looked a terrible sight.

"I remember him brushing my hair from my face and kissing me on top of my head, then on my forehead... Then before we knew it we were kissing properly again, like lovers. Then we were touching each other again, his hands were on my bottom under my school kilt. Then I was taking him by the hand and leading him upstairs to my bedroom."

She paused and laughed hollowly.

"You can guess the rest. I think I cried through the whole thing. After that I phoned Grandma to tell her I was staying over at Dad's after all, then I packed a bag and left with him. We went straight to bed when we got to his place and made love until we got hungry. Dad ordered in a takeaway."

There was a look of satisfaction on her face.

"We spent the entire night making love. In my whole life, can't remember ever feeling happier than I felt the morning after; the first time woke in my father's bed, snuggled up to his strong, attractive body and remembered what had happened. Everything in the world seemed to be right.

"Not only had I discovered the man I loved more than anyone else in the world, he had fallen in love with me too. We had expressed that love in the most perfect way possible.

"I went back to Grandma's after school that afternoon as if nothing had changed. But everything had changed."

I imagined so.

"So how did things go from there?" I asked.

"For the next year Dad and I arranged dates two or three times a week with me staying over at his place afterwards. You can guess where I slept now. Dad started to introduce me to his friends as his girlfriend rather than his daughter. That made me feel best of all. Nobody mentioned the age difference or asked why we had the same surname, if they even knew.

"When Grandma died, I had already left school and was working in a hair salon in town. We sold her house and I moved in with Dad permanently. No-one raised an eyebrow.

"After Grandma had gone, we had no family left and no friends who had known us long enough to make the connection but to be extra-safe, we moved to the other side of London. Dad commutes to work and I have a job locally. As far as our friends are concerned, we're just another couple. Okay I'm quite a bit younger but Dad doesn't look his age and everyone just takes us as they find us. We've been living as husband and wife ever since."

The look on her face told me how happy she was with that state of affairs.

"When I fell pregnant we decided to move here," she nodded around the room.

But she didn't finish her sentence. Emily had caught sight of the kitchen clock. She turned hurriedly towards me.

"Shit! I didn't realise it was so late. He'll be home in half an hour. Would you excuse me? I need to get ready. Help yourself to wine."

With those words she went out of the room. A moment later I heard footsteps on the stairs.

As instructed, I topped up my wine glass and took a long sip, my head full of thoughts.

***

In my dual roles as academic researcher and erotic author, I had been contacted by, talked to and on occasions like today actually met with a surprisingly large number of people involved in incestuous relationships.

Add to this the rather sparse research already available on the subject, and my own personal history, and you had in me, a willing and eager student.

I had quickly learned that are at least as many types of consanguineous relationships as there are traditional ones. In fact, there are probably a great deal more. As in all relationships, an imbalance of power means the risk of abuse is always there, but the overwhelming majority of those who contacted me had entered into the relationship freely.

This might be self-selection of course; those in abusive relationships might be less likely to make contact.

Apart from relations between cousins - which in the UK are not considered incestuous legally - by far the most common are those between siblings. These are often intense, short-lived, highly physical in nature and, unless coercion, abuse or pregnancy is involved, do not seem to prevent the participants from having normal sexual relationships with others afterwards.

Interestingly, brother-sister sex frequently continues in secret even after one or both partners have married. To the participants, it often does not feel like cheating on their wives or husbands at all.

Father - daughter relationships are the second most common. Again many of these are short lived and primarily physical but, like that between Emily and James, a proportion develop into long-term life partnerships that are almost indistinguishable from marriage.

Of those, a surprising number result in the birth of incestuously-conceived children or, if the couple are very wary of the risk of birth defects, donor-conceived.

Sadly, many of these 'marriages' between fathers and daughters eventually end in separation.

Mother-son relationships are much rarer but by no means unknown, frequently considered the ultimate taboo even by incestuous standards. Often arising after the death of the mother's partner or the break-up of her marriage, these relationships appear most likely to be accompanied by feelings of shame but despite can be very long-lasting on a quiet, less physically demanding level.

For a woman with my history it was hard to maintain any form of academic objectivity. Sympathy, pity and in many cases, envy tended to interfere with my researcher and writer's perspectives, especially when a particular kind of consanguineous relationship was involved.

Fortunately for the sake of my research, James and Emily's was not the kind of relationship I found most problematic. Indeed I was having serious misgivings about the relative balance of power between them. Appearances can be deceptive but Emily had the air of someone vulnerable and naïve, who might have been unduly influenced by her experienced father's seductive powers.

I began to wonder whether she really had entered into their sexual partnership as freely as she claimed.

***

"Sorry about the wait!"

Emily's voice brought me out of my reverie. I turned in the direction from which it had come and did a double-take in surprise. The woman walking across the room towards me was almost unrecognisable as the dowdy, mousy-haired girl that had so recently left.

Gone were the faded leggings; gone was the shapeless T shirt. Instead Emily wore a white summer dress embroidered with flowers as if she was a young girl just stepping out of a cornflake advert. But Emily was not a young girl any more as the dress' close fitting cut and extremely short length made only too clear - to say nothing of the way it displayed her baby bump so prominently.

Her unpainted, previously child-like face was now adorned with make-up; sophisticated and subtly applied, bringing her mischievous eyes and full lips to life. The long hair that had been so severely pulled back had been released from its captivity, allowed to fall over her shoulders and brushed until it shone.

The final part of the transformation came from the mid-height white heels she wore; not at all tarty, but clearly designed to transform her posture, raise her breasts and throw out her rounded buttocks in a manner no man could possibly fail to notice.

In a matter of minutes, my new friend had changed from a sweet, naïve, vulnerable girl into a forceful, aware and highly sexualised young woman. If I had previously seen her as an innocent being exploited by a manipulative older man, that idea was immediately and unceremoniously dumped.

Even the way she moved conveyed sex and availability. And the bump in her belly conveyed experience too. Despite his own history with women, James would have had little chance against this attractive, sexy, determined young girl.

"How do I look?" she asked anxiously.

"You look fantastic." I told her truthfully. "I hardly recognise you."

"Got to look my best when Dad comes home," she smiled, turning from left to right in front of a head-height mirror behind the door.

"Does he insist you dress like this for him?"