Daddy's Girl

DADDY’S GIRL

Wendy wanted to do something special for Sally's 18th, like hire a venue, a marquee in Grover Park possibly, lay on a big spread and hire a name band, B-list, something we could just about afford, someone like Fire Fighters, or Prodigal Son, or maybe a tribute outfit, like an Abba or a Queen, something that would make it a memorable event. Then space wouldn’t be a problem, not that we couldn’t lay on a fair old spread in our own garden. The houses were all large in Mansfield, a leafy suburb of Adelaide. Then she could invite whoever she wanted. Numbers wouldn’t be a problem and neighbours wouldn’t complain about the noise. But Sally said: “Why don’t we keep it low key, Mum? I’ll just invite a few close friends and we’ll have a ‘barbie’ around the pool.” Well, with hefty ‘uni’ fees on the not too distant horizon, who were we to argue? That suited us just fine.

Mid January was an absolute scorcher and the swimming pool was a pretty popular place that afternoon. Watching Sally's girlfriends in those skimpy swim suites splashing around kept my cock on the alert all day. Why is it they all looked so young and virginal in school uniform and the moment they put on bikinis they looked like real women, gorgeous, sexy and vibrant? And my wife - Wendy - was no slouch in the body-beautiful stakes either, not bad at all for forty; you could tell the young men liked what they saw, all that smooth olive skin inside a skimpy yellow bikini which left little to the imagination.

She still has a pretty good body for her age and she pranced around and mixed it with the younger ones not looking the least bit out of place, and a lot of Sally’s male friend’s eyed her up and made pleasant conversation with her. It was plain to see Wendy enjoyed all the attention, made her feel a young girl again. Sally’s boyfriend, Mike, in particular seemed to be spending rather a lot of time with her. But I was pleased the day seemed to be going really well.

Since Sally was now eighteen, the legal age to drink alcohol, we didn't object to her having a few proper drinks for her birthday. As it turned out, both she and Wendy had a little more than they could handle, and both were pretty blitzed by the end of the day.

Wendy was in a pretty frisky mood, having all those young studs checking her out, and a few flattering comments and cheeky asides seemed to boost her confidence no end. I could tell by the way she was walking around, flouncing herself here and there for the benefit of the youngsters, that she was having a great time. I didn’t mind a bit. That kind of thing’s good for a woman now and again.

After a whole day of gazing at those hot young teens and the mood Wendy was in, I figured some ‘humid’ bedroom fun might also be on the agenda later that night. I was certainly up for it.
By the time the party broke up, Sally was pretty drunk and her boyfriend Mike was helping her into the house. Moments later the rest of Sally's friends were saying their good-byes and leaving.

I was feeling pretty ‘merry’ myself after downing at least a dozen beers that day, and was now in the mood for some sexy fun with Wendy, so long as I didn’t get ‘limp-dick’ when we got to bed.

By the time I staggered to the bathroom, I felt like the whole world was spinning and I had trouble hitting the toilet. If I hadn't been so horny from seeing all those half-naked hot teen bodies all day, I would have more than likely just crashed into bed and slept it off, but like I said I was horny – and some!

It was virtually pitch black in the bedroom, the curtains were blotting out any moon glow there might be. I didn’t want to put the light on and disturb Wendy just in case she was asleep already. I only had my swim shorts on anyway, so it was easy to dispense with them before moving to the bed where a hot sexy body awaited me. At least, that is what I hoped, if only I could bring her gently awake and arouse her.

She was still in her bikini and I unsnapped the top and slid it off her arms and then tugged the bikini-drawers down her legs. She moaned dreamily.

I whispered in her ear: “Hello, darling. It’s only me. Wake up, Daddy wants to fuck you.” It was a term I used with Wendy sometimes. One of our fantasies was to play the father and daughter scene, or sometimes it would be uncle and niece. It spiced things up a bit.

She turned onto her side and I could hear her relaxed breathing as I put my arm around her and gently tweaked her hardening nipples. I kept caressing her until I felt her body responding and I knew she was coming awake. I had my cock nestling snugly in the crevice of her warm bottom. Whenever I was in the mood for naughty sex and she wasn’t, she’d say: “And you can take the broom handle away, we’re not doing that tonight.” But she didn’t say anything.

When I ran a finger the length of her pussy, I noticed she was wetter than she had been in years, and with two fingers now inside of her, she pushed her hips back against my now fully hardened cock.

She still appeared to be half-asleep as I turned her onto her back and kissed her breasts. Something was bothering me. It wasn’t just the fact that Wendy seemed to be extra responsive in this half-sleep state, it was also that her skin had a different fragrance to normal, as if she’d decided to try a different brand of shower gel, or a new perfume. I slipped my hand between her legs and her pussy pressed in response against my fingers.

I moved down, trailing my tongue over her belly-button and abdomen, deliciously salty with the day’s perspiration, until I felt her bush tickle my lips and nose. Even this felt and smelt different. Her hair seemed softer, downier, and smelled of baby-talc, not Wendy’s usual fragrance. My heart was beating wildly; it was almost like exploring a new terrain, fresh territory, a different woman even. Imagination is a wonderful thing. Who would Wendy become tonight?

How clandestine and exciting it all was. I carefully parted her labia and her warm sexual odour rose to meet my nostrils. My cock twitched in appreciation. I gave her little clit a few tender licks and she shuddered and sighed deliciously. I’d done this hundreds of times before to Wendy, but on this particular evening, for some reason or other, it was especially enjoyable. Her tummy felt firm and flat under my hand, almost hard. Wendy was in better shape than I thought. She even tasted different. I thought of Catherine Zeta-Jones. Mmm!

Now it occurred to me there was something not quite right about all of this. There was an intensity in our lovemaking that I hadn’t known in a long time, and believe me we’d had our share of fantastic sex together. I wasn’t complaining, mind you. Besides her natural feminine odour seeming different to normal, her lovely pussy seemed firmer and much wetter than usual. I could only assume that she was really up for it. Wow, those young studs had made my Wendy really hot for me! Thanks, guys.

I eased myself up her body and positioned myself ready to enter her. I continued kissing and sucking her breasts as my cock instinctively found its way into her. At that point she felt so lusciously wet I just wanted to fuck the hell out of her and fill her slippery hole with hot ‘cum’. But I also wanted to savour the act. And so, with amazing restraint, I worked slowly in and out of her surprisingly succulent pussy, trying my best to prolong the pleasure.

Nevertheless, I felt my climax approaching rapidly as she scissored her legs around me, bucking her hips upwards to meet my thrusts. I began to pump her faster and harder and grunts of passion echoed round the bedroom. I whispered in Wendy’s ear: “Sshhh! What if Sally hears us? What will she think?”

Wendy giggled. Even her giggle sounded ‘girlish’.

Then she whispered in my ear and my blood ran cold, although my hard-on persisted: "Oh Mike, - I love you…Make me cum…Fuck me harder."

Was Wendy enjoying her own fantasy? Who was she thinking about? Michael Parkinson... Mike Tyson... Mike Hunt..? Or was she fantasising about Sally’s Michael, a young spunky stud.

And then it hit me like a ten ton truck…

Oh my God, this isn’t Wendy. Oh Jesus Christ! I didn’t want to face it or think about it. Sally? It couldn’t be. What the hell was she doing in our bed? Oh Lord, please don’t tell me I’m screwing my own daughter..!

But that was the irrefutable fact of the matter.

Even though I now realized my terrible mistake, I had no immediate desire or willpower to withdraw from Sally. It was too late for that. I was way down the road of no-return. In fact, I began experiencing such a perverse thrill in breaching this particular taboo that I continued to fuck her with a new zest until I had her teetering on the very brink of orgasm. Every time I thought she was about to ‘cum’, I stopped thrusting and made her wait so that in frenzied frustration she’d urge me to continue (I guess psychologically I was trying to get her to take the lead, thereby relieving some of the guilt I was feeling), clamping me with her long, athletic tanned legs.

“No, please, Mike! MICHAEL! Don’t tease me, please. Just give it to me good. Make me cum. I want it so bad!”

She was begging for it. How could I deny my little girl the release she so craved?

A filmy vision suddenly floated across my mind. I was back in time. We were at the zoo, a family holding hands, Sally between Wendy and I, heading for the monkey-house and suddenly I could see her little girl face looking up at me, smiling with those ‘gappy’ teeth, all excited that we were going to see her favourite animals. Now I was the one monkeying around.

I could no longer hold back and I could tell that Sally was in the same state. We climaxed beautifully together, perfect synchronisation, her head thrashing from side to side, her legs tightening around the backs of my thighs in a scissor-hold that squeezed from me an incredibly long and draining orgasm. We lay in each other’s arms until she sleepily mumbled, “I love you,” and promptly fell asleep again.

My head was spinning, but not only from the alcohol. As the temptation to lapse into panic gradually subsided (for it seemed Sally had believed it had been her boyfriend screwing her, thankfully) my breathing relaxed and I began to experience a lovely feeling of serenity and contentment. At that moment, I felt such a tenderness and love for my daughter, nothing else seemed to matter.

But something began bugging me really badly.

If Sally now stayed asleep until morning, she would be none the wiser. In fact, the number of rum and cokes she had apparently consumed, she probably wouldn’t remember a thing about our little ‘coming’ together anyway, and even if she did, it was Mike who would be the guilty party in her mind. But, oh hell..! I hadn’t been wearing any protection (there was no need to with Wendy) and then I relaxed again, remembering that since Sally had been going steady with Mike, she’d been on the pill anyway - at least, that is what Wendy had told me. Another wave of relief swept through me.

As I crept out of bed, it occurred to me I had quite possibly just gotten away with the crime of the century. I headed downstairs to crash out on the couch.

When I got to the family room, I was relieved to see Wendy, dead to the world, already occupying and sleeping on the couch. It appeared as if she had been unaware that her loving, faithful husband had been, well, to put it bluntly - fucking the arse off our beautiful daughter while she had lain in blissful sleep and ignorance. Lucky for me she appeared to know little about it.

My whole body was trembling now, with the excitement and realisation of what I had done. I hadn’t premeditated it; it had just happened. But I still felt a kind of splendid naughtiness along with the guilt.

I decided to join Wendy for the night, a tight squeeze, and leave Sally in our bed and hope for the best. I couldn’t help noticing the smell of male cologne on her, not one of mine, but then forgot about it. After all, there had been a lot of strange things going on that night, and one more strange thing wasn’t going to make a lot of difference.

As I cuddled up behind Wendy she stirred and said: “Oh Mike… I thought you’d gone home.” And I thought… don’t you start!

Before falling asleep, one further thought came into my mind; what if I was to crash out in Sally’s bed for the rest of the night? Would she come to me later and...? I put the temptation out of my mind. I had already sailed very close to the wind.

The next morning when I awoke, I was half-dreading seeing Sally at breakfast. But I had to face her sometime, even though she was ignorant of what went on between us.

While Wendy was showering, Sally came into the kitchen and sat across the breakfast bar from me, a white Terrycloth nightdress wrapped around her. She looked dishevelled, but incredibly beautiful, reminding me of Wendy when I first met her. How wonderful it was to be in the prime of youth, bloom in her cheeks despite a probable hangover.

I was sipping my coffee, pretending to read the morning paper, and not making a particularly good job of it.

"Good morning, Daddy. What happened last night?”

She sounded quite breezy, but I had to be careful how I answered, she was a foxy little miss sometimes. I wasn’t totally sure just how much Sally really knew about the night before.

She continued: “I mean, I wake up in yours and Mum’s bed… how on earth did I end up there? What a night! And where did you and Mummy sleep?”

“In the family room – on the couch,” I hastened to answer, none to cleverly.

“Bit of a squeeze, I’d imagine.”

“You could say that. Don’t you remember how you ended up in our bedroom? It must have been Mike who put you to bed. He obviously made a mistake with the bedrooms.”

“Daddy, you must have been pretty drunk, don't you think?"

I felt the colour draining from my face. I avoided looking at her. I was dreading what she might come out with next.

“I mean, to do what you did.”

Oh God... A chill went through me. I tried to keep my face hidden behind the paper. I hoped my hands wouldn’t shake and give me away. “Pardon..?” I croaked.

“Don’t you remember, Daddy? Or were you absolutely blotto?”

“I think we all were, darling.” I still couldn’t be sure what she was getting at. Did she know something? Was she teasing me? “I must admit, I do feel a bit worse for wear. I expect we all do.”

“You particularly, Daddy.” She pulled the paper down to look over the top right into my eyes. “You were dancing, Daddy… like a demented idiot... and to Van Halen of all people. You should have seen yourself.”

“I should?”

“Daddy, I was so embarrassed. Mike’s got it all on video, so you’ll be able to see yourself how silly you looked.”

I peeped around the newspaper and smiled at her, breathing an inward sigh of relief. “Oh dear, has he..? I’m sorry, darling… I mean, if I…”

“Oh, don’t be. It was the best laugh we’ve had in ages.”

“Good. Well that’s something, then.” I took a bite of toast and returned to the newspaper. “It was a great day, wasn’t it?”

“Particularly the evening. Oh, Daddy… Come on tell me, what do you think of Mike?”

“Mike? Oh, sure, lovely guy. If he makes you happy, darling, that’s all that matters. Sure, he’s real nice. I think your mother took quite a shine to him too.”

“Yes, I noticed that. I’ll have to watch her in future.” She poured herself a fruit juice. “I had some weird dreams last night, though.”

“You did, darling?”

“Crazy, crazy, mixed up dreams. You want to hear about it?”

“Not just now, darling.”

“I thought you might be able to interpret them. All dreams have a meaning, don’t they, Daddy?”

I hoped she couldn’t hear my resigned sigh, but I guess I was just afraid of what she might come out with next. The newspaper rustled as I folded it over to a new page. “Some other time, sweetheart, hmm?”

“Okay, okay… It’s cool. Anyway, just wanted to tell you it was really special.”

“Huh?”

“The barbie… the whole thing. Oh, honestly, Daddy where are you? What’s got into you today. You’re miles away.”

“Yes, I know, darling. I’m hung over badly I’m afraid. My head’s feels like someone has been using it for a football.”

Sally came around the breakfast bar and put her arm around my shoulder. “Poor, Daddy.” She kissed my cheek and I felt her warm, fragrant breath as she whispered into my ear. “Daddy, you were fantastic.”

The cup of coffee in my hand shook, splashing the breakfast bar.

“Your dancing. I was only kidding just now. You were great. Almost hip, I have to say!”

Just then, Wendy came in with a towel wrapped around her head and her dressing gown loosely tied. “Morning, everyone... any fruit juice?” She looked at me. “Oh dear, you look like I feel, David. Can’t take it anymore, eh?”

At that moment, Sally was again whispering in my ear. “Don’t worry, Daddy. It’s our little secret. I won’t say anything to anybody.”

I suddenly felt quite vulnerable, as if somebody had something on me they could use against me. Sally pecked me on the cheek and walked towards the door, kissing Wendy on the way. “Hi, Mum. You ought to watch him, you know. Dad’s a bit of a raver! Ooh, by the way... how did you find Mike. He’s really fit, isn’t he, Mummy?”
“Yes Sally, he’s certainly fit all right. Very fit indeed.”
Sally turned to look at me as she went out the door and winked. She went out into the hallway, humming teasingly. I wondered for a moment whether she had known the truth all along. Was she having the last laugh?

I looked at Wendy and saw that she had turned bright red. Very strange. She cleared her throat, trying to brush it off. “What’s got into her? She’s very chirpy.

I shrugged, sipped my coffee and hid behind the newspaper. I didn’t want to know... I really didn’t.