The first time I stood stroking my cock in front of my daughter, was the most liberating experience of my mundane life. I wondered whether or not I had considered the implications of my actions thoroughly enough? I was intelligent and at times very wise, but often these traits were undermined by my weaknesses and my tendency to migrate towards them, and normally without any prior notice.
She was shocked and I apologised. My cock went limp and I was heading out but she stopped me and brought me back inside her room. She laid out a towel on her bed and I lay on that beside her in complete silence for an eternity, just looking up towards the ceiling. My thoughts would have been dampened by my pounding heart. I could not hear them. I already knew what was happening inside of her. Something complicated. Like a powerful processor that was designed to calculate permutations and identify the optimum solutions.
The level of empathy she oozed was apparent in all of her decisions. Other people had to be treated first, before she could attend to her own needs. This selflessness was something I enjoyed exploiting I am sorry to say. I preyed on it like a blood thirsty leech. In reply she would relax even further and let me suck on her as much as I desired (not literally speaking).
It was a quiet evening in, but outside it was lashing down with rain. Pellets were rattling against the window.
'You're free to stay here tonight dad, if you want.' She offered. It meant sleep but no touching. I was however granted access to wank by virtue of her subtle placement of tissues on the bed. It was done with some notable affection. I love the way she neatly folded the tissue into three layers making sure no side was askew, and then remained positioned on her stomach with an arm up to support her head. Her face; like a stadium floodlight in my direction, watching me and my body. She was a spectator that showed no expression of curiosity on her face but, rather, one of a person who seemed completely at ease with what was unfolding before her.
A fiddled around a bit; dragged my limp cock back with a finger and then released. It kind of wobbled and returned back to the centre. My eyes always took interest in landscapes and in particular, the landscape of the female body. I couldn't escape but notice her body when she was 16. Her dress sense had undergone changes. All the heavy, loose tops were binned; replaced with the essential kinky teenage fashions of the moment. She certainly caught me by surprise a number of times walking around the house in tartan mini skirts, tube tops, platform shoes and glossy lips.
I was already wanking off to thoughts of my dead mother, I didn't need this. After all, was it ok for me to think my daughter was hot? Was it ok to fuck her in my head? My dick answered all my questions for me in typical style, causing me to adapt my reasoning to its logic. Advising me to fuck any pussy I wanted. Be more Viking in my approach, more aggressive, like I had become with my dead mother.
I noticed that, prior to switching my fantasy's, I was performing the most extreme hardcore sessions of intercourse with my mother; the darker the better. Each session had to top the previous, and each session lasted longer, because I really wanted to enjoy what I was doing to my mother for as long as possible. I could wank for hours, but it would depend on how empty the house was. The best sessions were in an empty house. I would lie nude in bed and have my door wide open. Such good times!
Eventually, my mum was not stimulating me any longer. But I had a replacement in mind. Penelope. I had now reached a new level of depravity. Subject was still incest but the taboo was less acceptable, because a) it was with my daughter, whom I adored and b) she was only 16 and very much alive. But man was she hot! Just thinking about her made my dick stand up; it rose like a vampire from its coffin and greeted me with approval. I realised then I could not fuck mum again. It just wasn't controversial enough anymore. I needed to tap my daughters arse now.
I had a lot of great sex with my daughter; all mental projections maybe, but as real to me as I wanted. Fast forward 10 years and now she was watching me wank off. After the first night, we were together every night for 2 months. On weekends, we would try different rooms around the house. I would spank my monkey and she would watch. She never smiled much, nor seemed bored either, but was like a kind of nurse. My tissues were always prepared in front of me, towel placed on any surface, be it couch, bed or carpet. The trickiest moment was when I was ready to shoot. I wasn't always on target. She always cleaned up afterwards anyway. It was all good fun.
On our last night together (as I would learn afterwards), her mood was decidedly raunchy. She sat kneeled in front of me with arms crossed over my knees. I sat on her bed and stroked my 9inch dick, the tip of which wasn't far away from her glossy lips. She had dressed up for me like days of old. Her old miniskirt and tube top.
'What kind of things did you do to your mum?' She asked me running her hands up my thighs. 'Don't hold back any details.' She finished.
STROKE STROKE STROKE!!!
This wasn't Penelope before me - it was lustful sex demon. She seemed possessed. Somehow, I figured a priest would not be interested in exorcisms at this point; he would be salivating while fucking my daughter like a dog. He would let me watch hopefully.
'Whatever you can think of ... I did it.' I muttered under ragged breath
STROKE STROKE STROKE!!
'Did you ....' Penelope started, caressing my calves with the back of her fingers '...out of curiosity like, you know... fuck her up the arse?' She asked, her widening eyes staring into mine.
'I did and she loved it. She... ungh.. Loved the dirty stuff more than me.'
