Thank you to everyone that had taken the time to read the stories so far! I've had some great feedback and some wonderful comments. Keep them coming.
Let's cover off again, this is a work of fiction that deals with consensual father / daughter incest. If that isn't for you, don't read on, don't rate and don't comment, there's plenty on the site to keep you occupied. If this is for you, I'd love it if you could vote. I hope that you enjoy it!
She ground down onto me with one final grunt of exertion, her body glistening with sweat above me. She grimaced, tossing her hair back and jutting her chin out. She clenched her inner muscles around me in anticipation of the orgasmic wave. Whimpering, her body trembled before she cried out, jerked and squeezed my abused member inside her. Her hips jerked, grinding her clit further into my pelvis. She doubled over and her honey blonde tresses draped across my face.
I lay exhausted and panting, sore and aching. My wife collapsed on top of me, shaking. I closed my eyes and listened to her satisfied purr as I wrapped my arms around her slick back. A smile spread across my face and for the first time since my wife's operation, and the subsequent events with my daughter Abby, I felt happy and at peace. I hadn't cum from that last round. But honestly, I didn't expect to. I don't think I'd ever had 4 rounds of sex in a day before. Not even when I had the stamina. Now, at my age? I marvelled that I was still alive! I doubted either of us would be walking right for a couple of days. We'd been like teenagers. Pure animal lust had invaded us. I had no idea where it had come from, but I wasn't about to complain.
We lay pressed against each other, sweat cooling, but too tired to move. We drifted into sleep easily and slept for about an hour, and I awoke feeling refreshed. I made my way, on very stiff legs, to the bathroom and set the shower running as I stretched my aching muscles. Steam filled the room, clouding the mirror. I cracked the window open and stepped under the near scolding water.
I let the water beat down on me, relishing the cleansing feeling. I felt like I was living a metaphor; reconnecting sexually with my wife and washing away my sin with my daughter. As the water pooled around my feet, resolve seeped into my soul. It was time to end this madness with Abby.
I reached for the shower gel, time to scrub myself clean, both physically and mentally.
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"No more Abby" I said with a shake of my head.
My daughter looked at me with no small amount of confusion. "Err, what?" she asked.
"We need to go back to Father / Daughter. Not lovers Abby. I can never be that for you" I said, feeling strong.
Abby looked downcast and simply stared at her feet. "I don't know if I can Dad" she mumbled softly. "I don't want you to get ill again! But I..... I can't...." she trailed off.
I took her hands in mine, I'd been dreading this moment. I felt like I was breaking up with her. Men have a natural urge to say something stupid at times like these, usually the 'it's not you' line, but I bit it back as I watched my daughters heart break, and mine along with it.
Abby tried to stifle a sob as her shoulders slumped. Her fine golden hair hung obscuring her beautiful features. It hit me around then, she was little more than a girl. She might be physically, fully formed, but emotionally?
Sex is a big deal when you're young. You think it's going to be this magical, wonderful, moment that you become a man or a woman. It rarely worked out like that. My first time was a disaster, looking back on it I laugh about it. But back then, I was crushed that it had been an almost failure and I'd felt inadequate. Then when the relationship had ended with my first sexual partner, I felt a part of me was missing, a hole in me which quickly filled with despair and longing.
Is this how Abby was feeling now? The enormity of my actions hit me around then. Whilst I was wallowing in self-pity, then trying to re-find myself, my daughter, who I should be protecting, was starting to trudge down the same path I'd been down so many years ago.
I suppose you could argue that we can't protect our children from those feelings. It's a valuable life experience that everyone has to go through. A rite of passage and other trite nonsense. It should never have been at my hands, because of my weakness.
"Please!" she begged, tears flowing freely now. She tried so hard to stop the tears, but the dam had burst as one rolled after the next. "Please Daddy?!" she reiterated, drawing herself closer to me.
"Baby we can't. We just can't anymore. Don't make me explain it again. You know why not!" I pleaded with her, my own sight beginning to blur.
A great sob wracked her body, she drew her hand to her mouth, wanting to plead with me again. But the words wouldn't come. Instead, she pushed herself away from me. Anguish and despair warped her visage. Abby turned with a cry and fled. Fight or flight. The only option I'd given her was flight. A door slammed upstairs.
I knew I'd finally done the right thing. Reset the status quo. But a great hole opened in my chest. I slumped to the floor and cried. I cried for the hurt I'd caused. I cried for the destruction I'd surely caused our family. I cried for the sure loss of my daughter. Finally I cried for the loss of a lover.
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We avoided each other for the best part of a week. Things didn't return to normal. The atmosphere in the house was tense. I tried to talk to Abby about it, but the right words never appeared. Not that she wanted to listen to me. She was spurned. Her anguish had been overcome by anger. Then her anger abated, only to be replaced by depression.
I was still in a funk. Although I felt slightly better after stopping my liaison with Abby. Almost proud of my resolve, like a recovering addict. I still had unbidden dreams and half waking fantasies about my daughter, but there was light at the end of the tunnel and I was having less and less cravings.
I had to confront Abby about it though, try to restore some kind of normality. My wife noticed immediately that Abby was extremely unhappy. She guessed it was man trouble.
I was apprehensive about talking to Abby. I waited till Saturday morning. My wife had gone to work and I had the whole day to try and get Abby back on board.
I was sat down at the table having my breakfast when Abby slouched in. Her hair was a mess and her eyes looked bleary. Her dressing gown hung open and limp. Her baggy shorts and t-shirt crumpled from sleep. This was the first time we'd really been together alone since I'd 'broken up' with her.
Abby plonked herself down, shoulders slumped.
"Where's Mum" she mumbled not looking at me.
"She's gone to work early, she took an extra shift" I said
Abby's head snapped up and she looked at me, surprised that she was alone with me, a small ray of hope seemed to creep into her eyes.
"Don't get any ideas young lady, we need to talk" I said sternly
Abby looked taken aback at my tone. Softening as I saw her recoil slightly, I moved my chair around to her and took her hands in mine.
"Honey, I'm really worried about you. I still love you, I'm still your Dad" I said gently.
