Becky slept like a rock that night. She was mentally, emotionally, and physically exhausted -- but in a good way. She drifted off feeling happy and content, hopeful the next day would bring something equally as joyful.
She awoke the next morning to feel her bed shifting. She opened her eyes to see her father kneeling on the mattress beside her, a glass of water in hand. He wore a worn tee shirt and a pair of boxers, his hair still rumpled.
"Good morning, sweetheart," he said, and offered her the glass.
"Thanks, dad." Becky sat up and took it, aware she was totally naked in the morning light, but not minding. She drank while he watched her. She liked the way he looked at her, especially when she was naked.
She finished the water in one long series of swallows and handed it back to him. He set it aside.
"You must have been thirsty."
"Well, yesterday was kind of eventful," she said, leaning back on her outstretched arms to offer him a better view of her body.
"That it was," Vernon said. "I hope you don't mind my coming up here. Your mother's off doing the grocery shopping."
"Of course I don't mind. Why would I?"
Her father smiled slightly. Did he even look a little nervous? She couldn't tell for sure.
"I wanted to check in on you," he said. "Make sure you were okay with yesterday."
"Okay? I had a blast. Why? Did you think I didn't?"
He laughed -- he was nervous, she realized. It was weirdly and wonderfully absurd. "It's not... usual... to see your daughter in tears and, uh..."
"Her face covered in come?" she finished in a teasing tone.
"Yes," he said. "I know it was our idea -- mostly mine -- but I wanted to make certain it made you happy. That's what I want for you, Rebecca."
Becky rose to her knees, putting herself at his height, if only barely. She put her hands on his chest and kissed him lightly on the cheek.
"I am happy, dad. Yesterday was amazing. I never thought I'd experience anything like it. And I've never been so turned on in my life. It was incredible. I want to do more things like that with both of you." She bit her lip as she considered her next words. "Both of you."
He smiled and wrapped his hands around her bare waist. "That makes me really happy to hear, Rebecca."
They kissed again, on the lips this time. Then again. And again.
Afterward, Becky was sure neither of them had premeditated what happened next -- but it happened all the same. Kisses became longer and deeper. Her father's hands roamed over her bare back, her ass, then her breasts. Breath and heartbeats quickened.
Without either of them saying a word or even consciously making a decision, they soon found themselves sprawled on the bed: him with his back against the headboard, her straddling him.
Still kissing her father enthusiastically, Becky fumbled for the waistband of his boxers and found it. One steady pull brought them down and freed his stiffened cock. Becky took hold of it, coaxing a gasp from him. She was already wet, and managed to position his cock with a dexterity born of eagerness.
She drew back and made eye contact with her father as she slowly lowered herself onto him. The sensation, as always, was huge -- she was getting used to it, but the exquisite clarity of pleasure that was almost pain still thrilled her with its intensity.
"Oh god... god, dad..."
The vulnerability she felt made her want to close her eyes, bury her face in his neck -- but she did neither, instead putting her hands on his cheeks and holding him there, locking eyes with him. She saw the same vulnerability in his expression, felt it in the way his hands tightened on her waist, the way he tilted his hips to push himself further into her.
"Rebecca..." he said softly.
"I love you so much, dad."
"I love you."
They began to move together, again by unspoken agreement. She took control at first, gyrating her hips on top of him in lieu of thrusting. He seemed to enjoy it tremendously, his breath coming in long, quiet moans. His lips sought hers for a kiss, and she gave it freely, their mouths locked as they moved, breathing their exclamations of pleasure into each others' mouths.
Soon, they were both damp with sweat from the warmth of the room and the rising heat of their lovemaking. Becky relished the slipperiness of their skin moving together, laughing softly as a droplet of sweat ran down her forehead and lingered on the tip of her nose for a moment before dropping away.
She was dimly aware that they were both being quiet, as if their encounter were some sort of secret -- which was true, she supposed, in a way. The thought of having to keep quiet made it even hotter in her mind, and she found herself whimpering as she felt the distant tickle of a slowly approaching orgasm.
Her father seemed to pick up on it, because he cradled her cheek in one hand and made eye contact with her again.
"Becky," he said. "My sweet girl--" He took hold of her more firmly and began to thrust into her from underneath, slowly at first, but quickly gaining momentum.
"Dad," she gasped in return. "Daddy, oh god, daddy--"
As she looked into his eyes, Becky couldn't get over how incredible he felt inside her. It wasn't just his size, although that was certainly novel and pleasurable enough -- but it was the shape of him, the way they seemed to fit together, as if, despite being father and daughter, they'd been made for each other.
As if, all along, this had been inevitable.
This, Becky decided in her delirium, was the most perfect intensity -- not the spankings, the mock apologies, the play-acted tears, the rough and sticky punishments. It was this: a bond between father and daughter, transgressive but true, forbidden but all the more pure for it.
She felt orgasm approaching fast, and broke her gaze to clutch him close, holding him tightly around the shoulders. She felt like a doll in his strong grasp, utterly at his mercy as he squeezed her ass and drove into her again and again.
"Oh god dad oh god oh god--"
Her words melted into a series of strangled cries as orgasm rocketed through her. Her body quivered, the sensation so singularly intense she wondered for a moment if she might pass out.
Her father didn't slow. A second orgasm came unexpectedly on the heels of the first, and Becky sobbed, completely awash in the sensations coursing through her. She sank her teeth into his shoulder, involuntarily, somehow feeling that the might fly apart and cease to exist if she didn't ground herself somehow.
Still, he didn't slow. Becky shook in the aftermath of her orgasms, holding on to her father for dear life as he reached his own frenetic pitch. She heard him cry out, felt him spasm, felt the wet warmth as he came inside her.
"Oh..." they both said at once: his voice low and relieved, hers shaking and unsteady. She rolled away, letting him slip out of her, and they sank to the sheets together.
Becky laid her head on her father's chest and they lay there for awhile, unmoving, their sweat slowly cooling in the open air. She savored the moment, not wanting to break the comfortable, silent afterglow they shared, but she knew she had to say something.
