The Morning After

This story is a continuation in The Lynches series, but is also written to stand on its own. You can check out The Lynches for more details on the relationship between Michelle and her father, and how they got to this point. All characters are of legal age and consenting. Enjoy!

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Michelle stirred out of the deepest sleep she can remember in recent weeks, the afterglow of an amazing dream about her father still running through her head. She had been fantasizing about being with her dad since she was a young girl, and the details of this dream seemed far more vivid than any she had ever had about him. The way he took her so roughly from behind, in the laundry room of all places, caused a bit of an urgent need between her legs, as the last vestiges of a good night's sleep disappeared. Still clinging to the remnants of those erotic details, she let her hand wander down across her belly, and her fingers dragged through the lips of her wet vagina.

What the fuck? Michelle gasped as she shot up to a sitting position in the bed. The sheet and comforter fell away from her upper body, exposing her breasts to the cool morning air, and she looked down at the matted landing strip above her clit. Michelle always slept in pajamas, especially when at her parent's house, so she was surprised to find that she had slept in the nude the prior night.

Her brain snapped into consciousness, almost as quickly as she shot up in the bed, and the feelings of shame, fear, disbelief, and satisfaction washed over her body in waves, as she realized that indeed, it wasn't a dream. Michelle sat there in shock, the middle finger of her right hand still buried halfway in her snatch, wondering what the ramifications will be for what she did, or more aptly, allowed to be done.

The more she thought about the wonderful day with her father, from the closeness on the subway ride, the unexpected events which lead to her giving him road-head, and the awesome crescendo of finally having daddy's cock inside her, the more her pussy ached for morning attention. She lay back on her pillow and continued to diddle herself, re-running the events from the evening through her head. With her left hand pulling and pinching her nipples, it didn't take Michelle long to explode in a toe-curling orgasm, her thighs clamping down around her hand as she shivered in her bed.

Mmmmm, bacon, Michelle purred to herself, hand still firmly wedged inside her vagina, as the aroma of breakfast wafted up from the kitchen. The warm feeling from cumming was quickly replaced with a cool rush of anxiety when she realized that at some point she would have to go downstairs and face her father.

And then the anxiety turned into ice-cold dread when she thought about having to face her mother too.

While sleeping with her dad was a life-long fantasy, she had no idea how to handle the overwhelming pangs of guilt at having fucked her mother's husband. Sarah Lynch was the stricter of her two parents, and she could always tell when Michelle was lying to her.

A new fantasy was running through Michelle's head now, one where she lives the rest of her life locked in her bedroom at her parent's house, never stepping foot outside the room, so she never would have to be confronted by her mom or her dad. Just as she had herself almost convinced it would work, an urgent request sent up from her bladder revealed a glaring hole in her otherwise foolproof plan.

She reluctantly slipped out of bed and walked to her dresser. She stepped into the baggy, flannel sleeping shorts, and pulled the loose matching shirt over her head. Michelle opened her door a crack and peeked out into the hall to make sure the coast was clear, like a convicted felon trying to make a break from a maximum security prison.

She scampered across the hall into the bathroom and dropped her shorts while she was squatting, her pee hitting the water below before she was fully seated. Michelle closed her eyes and opened her legs a little, as her bladder forcefully emptied itself. For some reason, taking an urgent piss after cumming was extremely pleasurable, and thanks to her experience with Tommy Benson, her junior year boyfriend at SUNY Albany, she grew to like almost everything about pee, including its pungent smell.

"Oh, sorry dear, I didn't know you were up," her mother said, standing in the open doorway with a laundry basket under her arm.

"MOM!" Michelle shrieked, instinctively snapping her legs shut, and cutting off her pee stream, "what the hell are you doing?" Looking at her mother, Michelle immediately thought of what she did with her father the night before, and her face flushed red with embarrassment.

"Oh pish-posh dear," Sarah replied to her daughter's embarrassment, "don't forget I've changed your diapers and taught you how to use tampons."

Michelle patiently waited for her mother to collect the towels and washcloths and put them in her basket, then restarted her stream as Sarah closed the door, calling behind her that breakfast was ready.

Reaching between her legs with the wad of toilet paper, Michelle realized how fast her heart was beating and was thankful that the situation masked her guilty conscience, and that she actually lived through the first interaction with her mother.

She pulled up her shorts and flushed the toilet, then stared at her reflection as she washed her hands. Michelle took a deep breath and exited the bathroom, mustering up every ounce of courage and self-control as she headed downstairs to the kitchen.

"Morning sleepy-head," John Lynch greeted his daughter, without looking up from the sports page of the Times Union. "Just reading about yesterday's game."

Michelle felt the heat rise in her face, and she knew she was blushing again at the mere mention of anything about the prior day.

"I really hoped I got to see you and your father enjoying each other's company yesterday," Sarah said with a smile, as she brought Michelle a plate of bacon and eggs.

"Excuse me?" replied Michelle, her voice shaking with guilt, knowing her face was now two shades darker on the color spectrum of red.

"At the game, honey," came the innocuous reply, "I stayed up and watched it on TV, hoping to see you two." Sarah took the seat next to Michelle, then added, "but your father was nice enough to give me the blow-by-blow details after he came to bed."

"I know we've been doing this for a long time," added her father, as he folded the newspaper and placed it in the empty chair to his right, "but yesterday's trip was by far my favorite of all time."

Michelle tried to hide the shock on her face from her father's words, but when she looked at him, she did not see anything out of the ordinary. No wink, or raise of the eyebrows, just normal, everyday breakfast conversation, albeit seemingly littered with double entendres.

"I really enjoyed myself too daddy," Michelle squeaked out after clearing her throat, studying her father's face for any knowing glances, but finding none. She then added, "I can't wait until we can do it again," and once again found her face burning with heat, at her own accidental mixed message.

The Lynches finished their usual Sunday morning breakfast without incident, and by the end of the meal, Michelle found herself comfortably communicating with her parents, devoid of any pangs of guilt. She was really proud of her father, for being able to act naturally, even though they both knew what they had done the night before. He could be a master thief or counter-intelligence expert, she thought to herself, impressed with her father's cool-as-the-other-side-of-the-pillow demeanor.

Things seemed back to normal over the next few days. Michelle felt no difference in the way her father interacted with her, and she started to question whether it may have just been a vivid dream after all. This also helped her with her feelings of guilt, and she found herself being able to talk to her mother again without blushing.

Wednesday night was the first sign that things had changed for the small family, or at least for Michelle. That's the first night that the telltale sounds of fucking could be heard through the thin wall between her's and her parent's room. This activity usually made Michelle wet with feelings for her father, prompting her to masturbate along with the sounds of her mother's moans. But on this night, all Michelle felt was jealousy. She could remember the taste of her father's cock, and the way it forced its way into her tight pussy, and she felt it should be her moaning beneath her father, and not her mom. Out of spite, Michelle stubbornly refused to bring herself off while listening to them and wound up tossing and turning all night.

Thursday was a quiet day in the Lynch household, as Michelle was in a bitchy mood and both mom and dad knew to avoid her. She stayed at work late, barely said three words during dinner, and went up to her room immediately after she and her mom cleaned the kitchen. Thankfully, there were no middle-of-the-night amorous interludes coming from the room next door, so Michelle was able to get a full night's sleep.

She was still stewing a little bit on Friday morning but managed to be cordial during breakfast. "I'm going to happy hour after work tonight," she announced to her parents while loading her dish in the dishwasher, "so don't plan on me for dinner."

The Uber dropped Michelle at her house just before midnight, her Prius safely parked in her office garage. She noticed that only the 'burglar lights' were on inside the house, meaning that her parents were already in bed. She had managed to dance off and drink off a lot of her frustrations at happy hour, and was really looking forward to not having to get up with the alarm in the morning. Michelle locked the front door behind her and quietly made her way up to her room.

She stripped off her work clothes and put on her pajamas before going across the hall to wash up before bed. She cleaned off what little makeup she wore and brushed her teeth, then filled a tall glass with water and retrieved two Tylenol from the medicine cabinet. The best cure for a hangover, she said to herself as she downed the two white tablets along with about half of the contents of the glass. She slipped into her flannel sheets and double-checked that the alarm was off, before closing her eyes and falling into a deep sleep.

Since she was in middle school, Michelle had the same recurring dream, which seemed to be more vivid if she was horny, or for the past few years had been drinking, so both factors were fully in force when the opening credits of the recurring dream started to roll. The dream always started with the sensation that there was someone in her room watching her sleep, and this night would be no different. Her age in the dream always varied, but she would always pretend to still be sleeping, too afraid to confront whoever might be in her room.

A long period would pass, and the sleeping Michelle would convince herself that there was nobody there just about the time she would feel her covers being lowered. The gentle touch of the stranger's massage would start on her back, and Michelle sometimes would hear herself moaning in her sleep at the sensation. The smell of his cologne in the air and the comfortable feeling of safety told her it wasn't really a stranger, but the man she had always wanted to be touching her in this manner.

The circles of his massaging hands would expand with each pass, and soon his strong hands were rubbing and kneading the firm globes of her ass. The sleeping daughter would bite her lower lip to keep from moaning and fight the urge to push her ass up off the mattress. Constantly checking for any sign of her waking, the visitor would get bolder in his massage, his hands traveling down between the cheeks of her ass, and rubbing her pussy through her pajamas.

Risking detection, the sleeping Michelle would tacitly part her legs, providing her massager with better access to her nether region. The continued rubbing bring Michelle to the edge of an orgasm, and then it would stop. After another long pause, she would feel his hands tugging at the waistband of her pajamas, eliciting her to gently lift her hips to aid in their removal.

"Ohhhh...daddy," Michelle moaned and the hands abruptly let go of her pajama bottoms, waking her from her slumber. Getting her bearings in the dark room, she squinted at the red numbers of the bedside clock, making out 3:14. She also felt the tightness of the waistband of her pajama bottoms around her thighs. Rolling onto her side, she looked at the silhouette standing like a statue near the foot of the bed and queried, "Daddy?"

"Are you still mad at me sweetheart?" her father whispered in reply, his hand returning to her hip, admiring the well-trimmed patch of hair between her thighs.

"I wasn't mad at you daddy," Michelle fibbed, "I just reacted badly hearing you and mom after we...ummm...you know."

"I really enjoyed our time together too, honey," John assured, his hand now rubbing her exposed ass cheek. "I knew it would be tough for you to hear us together," he continued, "but she IS my wife you know."

"I know, daddy," Michelle responded, "and the last thing I want to do is hurt mommy, but I felt so good when we made love." She rolled back onto her belly, offering both ass cheeks for him to rub and moaned, "that feels really good too, daddy."

"Don't worry about mommy," John said to his daughter, while removing her pajama bottoms the rest of the way, "there's plenty of daddy for both of you."

He returned both hands to the demi-globes of her firm, young ass, and massaged them deeply, catching glimpses of her tight pucker in the sliver of moonlight that shone through her bedroom window. Michelle loved to have her ass played with, and her pussy continued to moisten as her father's hands sent waves of pleasure throughout her petite body.

Leaning forward, John placed a tender peck of a kiss on his daughter's crinkled asshole, similar to the gentle kisses he had given her on her forehead before bedtime every night since she was a kid. Michelle giggled at the sensation, and then let out a long, slow, guttural moan, as he leaned back in and started tracing around it with the tip of his tongue.

John first noticed his daughter's ass when she made the freshman volleyball team in high school, thanks to those delicious skin-tight shorts that were part of the team uniform. Michelle's ass had been sculpted over the years of playing basketball, soccer, and softball, and with her modest chest, it was her most prominent feature. Michelle could always feel her father's eyes on her whenever she wore yoga pants or a bikini, so it was no secret to her how he felt about her ass. Now John's tongue was probing the long-time object of his desires, and from the soft moans coming from his daughter, she seemed to be enjoying it almost as much as he was.

"That...feels...soooo...goooood...daddy," Michelle moaned while reaching behind her to pull off her pajama top. She discarded the flannel top on the floor and cupped each breast, rolling her nipples between her thumb and forefinger.

"Do you want to feel something even better?" asked John, seeking permission to claim the ultimate prize.

"I want to feel everything with you, daddy," Michelle responded while turning over onto her back.

John looked down at his daughter somewhat confused, thinking that her actions meant her ass was now off limits. However, when she spread her legs and pulled her knees back to her chest, he smiled broadly like a kid on Christmas morning.

"I know how much you love my ass, daddy," Michelle admitted to him, "so I want to watch your face as you enjoy it."

John reached between his daughter's legs and slid two fingers into her tight pussy, curling them up to rub her G-spot. Michelle continued the assault on her nipples while she watched her father's fingers move inside her soaked pussy. It was at this point that she noticed he was totally naked, and wondered to herself how long he had been coming into her room like this.

Once sufficiently coated with her juices, John moved his fingers lower and inserted them into the warm, dank channel of his daughter's behind. The emptiness that Michelle felt in her pussy was soon replaced by the fullness of her father's thick fingers loosening up her back-door.

"Are you ready baby?" John whispered as he leaned forward and kissed her on the lips.

Eagerly returning his kiss, Michelle felt the hardness of his cock as it pressed against her inner thigh. "You'd better put it in before I die from anticipation," Michelle said breathlessly, momentarily breaking their kiss.

John reached down and aimed his cockhead in between the globes of her upturned ass. "Go slow daddy," Michelle requested, as she felt the purple head of her father's cock push into her ass, and the tight ring of her sphincter snap closed around it.

Their eyes were locked onto each other's as John's hips slowly pushed forward. John would stop each time he saw his daughter wince, and Michelle drank in the look of sheer bliss on her father's face. She was no stranger to anal sex, but this was the first time she felt such unconditional love for the man whose cock was buried in her rectum.

The soft hairs of his balls tickled her skin, and she knew he was fully inside her. She closed her eyes and let out a deep breath as her body adjusted to his size and girth. He leaned down and kissed his daughter again, and she willingly opened her mouth to accept his tongue, tasting herself as they French kissed. She opened her eyes and gave her father a little nod, which was the green light he was looking for to start fucking.

Slowly at first, he started moving his cock in and out of the tightest channel he ever had the pleasure of invading, as he returned his daughter's gaze of pure lust. She had both hands on his chest as if directing the speed and depth of his penetration, and rubbed his nipples while his pace quickened.

Soon he was fucking her with full strokes, hammering his little girl into her childhood bed, ignoring the squeaks from the box spring and the occasional bang of the headboard against the shared wall. As much as he was enjoying the feeling of his daughter's anal passage squeezed around his throbbing manhood, the knowledge that his wife was on the other side of the wall, listening to every moan and whimper, really pushed John to the brink.

By this time Michelle had one hand rubbing her clit, and the other pulling and pinching her nipple, as the telltale signs of an amazing orgasm started boiling up from her core. After so many years of fantasizing about it, she never thought anything could rival the unbelievable feeling of making love to her father for the first time. However, the intimacy of giving him her ass, coupled with the incredible look of happiness on his face, was surely giving that feeling a run for its money.

"I'm cumming daddy!" Michelle announced way too loudly and then clasped both hands over her mouth, as her small body shook involuntarily, overcome with pleasure.

Grabbing both of her ankles, John slammed himself into her three more times, then held himself deep within her ass, as his cock throbbed and released the contents of his balls into his baby girl's bowels.

Michelle felt her father's warm seed spread within her, and she pulled him down for another passionate tongue kiss. She could feel the thumping of his heart through the soft flesh of her right breast, as his cock softened and slipped out of her ass. She hugged him to her tiny body tightly, wishing he would never leave her, but knowing he had to return to his room at some point. "I hope we didn't wake mommy," Michelle whispered dreamily, still swept up in her post-orgasmic bliss.

John leaned down and gave her a peck on the tip of her nose. "Let me worry about mommy," he said with a wink, as he rolled off his daughter and pulled the covers up over her naked body.