SATURDAY MORNING
"Come one, Daddy," my daughter, my
completely
nude
daughter, said while holding out her hand. "Let's get in the shower."
Completely entranced—and also as completely naked as Cait—I sat up in her bed and swung my legs over to stand. I reached out to take her hand, but she playfully swatted it away.
"That's not what I'm reaching for," she said teasingly.
When I stood up she found my flaccid penis with her hand and gave it a gentle but secure grip. I had ejaculated into my 18-year-old daughter's mouth only a few minutes before, so there wasn't much chance I'd get hard again
that
fast, but damn did it feel good to feel her small warm hand on my shaft. For a moment we both looked down at what she was holding onto, then we caught each other's glance and laughed.
"Okay," I said, "lead the way!"
Cait gave my cock a little squeeze, then turned and led me out of her room, literally leading me by the cock. I had thought at first that we'd simply make our short way to
her
bathroom, but it quickly became evident that she had another location in mind. As we padded down the hallway I had an excellent opportunity to watch my daughter from behind. I was mesmerized by her pert round bottom and how it moved and giggled slightly as she walked. With each pace I could see adorable and sexy little dimples form and fade above each creamy butt cheek. Her long hair flowed gracefully behind her shoulders, down her slender back. I was close enough to her to see the sides of her large luscious breasts swing back and forth before her.
My cock twitched and swelled slightly. Cait noticed.
She glanced over her shoulder and grinned at me. "Daddy, you just never quit, do you?" To emphasize her amazement, she gave my thickening girth another gentle squeeze.
"I'm surprising even myself," I said. I mean, let's be honest, I had just turned 45. I certainly wasn't old, and I was proud about being in very good, even athletic, shape, but I was certainly no spring chicken anymore. I had only climaxed twice in the last 10 hours or so, but the most recent time had been less than 15 minutes ago. The fact that I was getting hard again so soon was very much a testament to how utterly and insanely erotic this situation was. Any 45-year-old male would readily sell his soul to the Devil to sleep with an 18-year-old female. But to have that 18-year-old be his own
daughter
...
My cock twitched again, and Cait giggled again as we made our way down the hallway—to the master bedroom! I had been oddly disinclined to go anywhere near that part of the house last night. Call it some sort of twisted sense of respect for my wife, Heather. But my daughter, who seemed to be quite okay literally having an affair with me against her own mother, obviously had no qualms about going into her mother's bedroom as well.
Cait led me into my bedroom and directly for the master bathroom. "We'll have so much more room in here," she said matter-of-factly. She was correct. Whereas Cait's bathroom was what you would find quite typical for any normal guest room in any given house, our master bathroom sported an absolutely massive shower stall. Heather and I had gone all out tiling the shower with rustic natural stone slabs, and water jets pretty much
everywhere
. Two people could very easily take regular showers in there at the same time, and Heather and I certainly did quite often. We didn't always have
sex
in the shower, but our morning schedules were very similar, so showering together was usually quite efficient—and of course still fun whether or not we fucked!
Once we were in the bathroom Cait very reluctantly let go of my semi-erect penis and stepped into the shower, turning various valves until jets of water started spouting from various angles, quickly steaming up the place. It was evident that Cait had showered in here before, because she knew just how all the controls worked. She noticed me scrutinizing her.
"What," she said. "Yes, of course I've tried this shower! Several times!"
I grinned. "That's okay, pumpkin. You were always welcome to use it, even before—you know..." I blushed, gesturing our mutually naked bodies.
She laughed. "Oh, I know. I definitely enjoyed it a number of times when I knew you and Mom would be out of the house for a while." She turned away for a moment to test the temperature of the water. Satisfied, she turned back to me and gave me the classic come-hither gesture with her finger. As I approached she said, "And if you're a very lucky man—which so far you definitely are—I'll be happy to show you which water jet is angled in just the
perfect
way to hit my clit..."
Holy God did I love this girl!
For the next several minutes we quite literally showered, letting the nice not water blast us from all directions, rinsing away the remaining vestiges and bodily fluids of our sexual activities from the night before and this morning. Once we were lathered up with soap and shampoo we began fondling and sliding against each other, laughing and tickling and teasing like the new lovers we were.
When eventually rinsed off and got to the conditioner phase, I sat Cait on the stone bench integrated into one side of the shower and began massaging the conditioner into her hair. She closed her eyes and tilted her head back slightly, thoroughly enjoying the soothing scalp massage along with the hair-washing. I watched her for several moments, drinking in the image of her nude perfection. Her nipples were rock hard and lifted and lowered with her full breasts as she breathed. She finally broke the silence with another giggle.
"What was that for?" I asked.
She kept her eyes closed against the suds and water, but she grinned widely. She said, "Just realizing that I was going to show you which water jet is angled perfectly to get my pussy buzzing. Not exactly something a daughter talks to her father about."
It was my turn to chuckle. "No, I suppose not." I continued to work her scalp and asked, "So which one is it?"
Still without opening her eyes, Cait reached out and, with obviously experienced memory, touched one of the jets that was about halfway between the floor and the shower head. This jet normally sprayed a fan of water upward toward one's chest or back, depending on how one faced. But with a practiced hand Cait adjusted the tip of the jet so that it started shooting an actual jet, not just a fanned spray, and then she angled it down, so it was now shooting out a little more directly at 90°. She dropped her hand and managed to crack one eye open to confirm that I had been observing all this.
I had, and I had to think about it for a moment. It was a fun mental exercise imagining how my daughter would have to stand, how she would have to position herself, for that steady jet of water to stimulate her genitalia. But I wanted the real thing.