My daughter Emma and I have always been open and honest with each other, including in-depth discussions about us both being bisexual. After high school, Emma moved out of her Mom's and in with me because I lived right by the University.
When Emma was nearly 21, Rae, my girlfriend at the time, got a job several states away, and I just couldn't follow. One of the last things she did, unbeknownst to me, was to show my daughter where my porn stash was on my computer. This included videos that I'd never publicly admit owning, or even having fantasies about, but even worse was a collection of sex tapes starring me with men, with women, and also Rae and I sharing Bette, a trans girl we had dated for awhile. There was also a lot of footage of our best friends, Jack and Janelle, playing with us, having crazy-monkey sex in every combination and permutation imaginable.
Emma soon began asking detailed questions about my early sexuality, and my love for giving oral sex. This was not particularly out of bounds for our relationship, except she had never been so interested in specific details, play-by-play descriptions, and interest, bordering on scrutiny, about how I came to grips with my bisexuality. She also, without prodding, gladly shared many of her sexual experiences. I could not fathom where this newfound interest in discussing our sexuality came from.
I love to read erotica, and on erotic literature websites, the incest category is always voluminous, but apart from listening to Emma having quite loud sex with her BFF when they had sleepovers at my house, I really had no salacious thoughts about her. Until now, as our talks grew increasingly dirty, bordering on the pornographic. Many times recently, she had gotten me so worked up, our talks would end with me rushing to another room to "wax the dolphin". On her way to bed, she often made comments about what she would soon be doing, like hoping she remembered to buy fresh batteries.
She took over our movie nights, and began choosing deeply sexual films, including Y Tu Mama Tambien, Ken Park, Dancing at the Blue Iguana, and others with highly sexual, bisexual, and incestuous themes. She also started wearing more provocative clothes around the house, like a threadbare t-shirt and panties, though I wasn't always sure about the panties.
Once, we bumped into each other in the hall just as she had stepped from the shower, and while wrapping her hair in a towel, she dropped her body towel, and was in no hurry to pick it up. I was stunned, frozen in a wide-eyed stare, answered by her beautiful smile. She was more voluptuous than her mother, who was supermodel-thin, with small breasts, and sexy as hell. Emma kept herself trimmed close, in a thin triangle. She had, I'm guessing, a good B cup, with silver-dollar sized areola, hips that made perfect curves, and when she turned and bent over to pick up the towel, she showed off buns that I would kill to press my face in between, just for the privilege of licking her ass till she screamed.
One movie night, after a bottle of wine and a particularly hot film, I decided to confront her. I started with how she had been fidgeting during the film, so had she been masturbating? She admitted that she was, but "didn't finish". I felt emboldened, so I just came out and asked what all the sex talk and sexual tension was about lately. Was it just that neither of us were seeing anyone, or was there a more nefarious motive behind it all?
She beat around the bush a bit, but I was having none of it. We had always been honest with each other, and I had always answered even the most embarrassing questions she would throw at me, including if I was a "grower or shower" and how I measured up, fully erect. I told her that she needed to show me the same respect I had always given her, and just come clean.
She started by admitting that she had seen my porn file. She said that at first she resisted, but eventually, she got curious as to what kind of porn I was into. She read the erotica that I wrote, saw the links to porn sites that I liked, and finally found what Rae had not told her about: my personal sex tapes. The ones that she kept coming back to were of me and my friend Jack giving each other head while Rae and Janelle, Jack's girlfriend, shot the video. When we were blowing each other, the girls ran a non-stop dirty talking narrative of encouragement. She also loved the videos of me and Rae, both together and separately, sucking and fucking Bette, the Trans woman we dated.
So, what was the endgame here? Sometimes, while house-sitting, or pet-sitting, I would run across nude pics, or even the occasional sex tape while doing a little snooping, but I never, ever so much as whispered a hint that I knew some of my friend's sex secrets. What, then, was Emma hoping to accomplish with all this sexual teasing? What exactly was happening?
She admitted that there was no real plan. The videos of me sucking cock just got her hot, and she couldn't help but to tease me and pry details of my sex life from deep in my sexual history. I called bullshit. She had been watching my porn, masturbating, stirring her imagination, so what were these fantasies? Where did she think all this was heading?
Finally, she admitted that she wanted to watch me masturbate and lick my own cum off of my hand. I told her I would mull it over, and wasn't sure that I was ready to cross that line, but I would think about it. I got up to go to bed, not even trying to hide the tent I was pitching, and kissed her goodnight.
As I was just about to leave the room, she called out to me: "Why don't you leave your door open?" I turned, smiled, and shook my head. She took off her t-shirt and informed me: "Well, I'll leave mine open, if you're interested." Wow.
I was naked seconds after closing my bedroom door, and pre-cum was flowing like a faucet. I rubbed it all over the head, then completely covered my cock with it. I was really enjoying the stimulation, and then I licked some off of my fingers. My pre-cum has always tasted sweet to me.
I heard Emma walk down the hall to her room, past the bathroom separating us, and imagined her watching me savor my fluids.
I could hold back no longer, and started jacking off with a fierce grip and determination. I could feel the orgasm approaching like an eruption, and held my other hand out to catch it. I came harder than I normally ever do alone, my stomach muscles spasming with over-stimulation, like after a great blowjob and your lover doesn't stop sucking, just keeps teasing, teasing. Before I was even able to catch my breath, I did something I hadn't done in years: I brought my hand up and slowly, sensually, licked the cum, savoring both flavor and texture, making certain I got every drop, knowing full well how much she would have loved to watch me at that moment.
The next decision was made before I even knew what I was doing. I turned off the light and slowly, silently opened the door. Fortunately, I had fixed it a few weeks before, as it had been both sticking and squeaking. For a moment, I couldn't decide if fixing the door was serendipity, or if I subconsciously had been planning on spying on my daughter some time in the future.
The only clothes I had on were my socks, and I slid along the hard wood floor like a slow-motion ice skater. She told the truth: her bedroom door was, indeed, open. The light from Emma's room was dim, it had to be the low setting on her bedside lamp. I heard a quiet moan, and leaned in, peaking around the door frame.
She was naked, on her back, eyes closed, one hand playing up and down her pussy lips, the other casually teasing her nipples. It seemed like she was in for a long session. My erection hadn't softened at all, and, in fact, seemed to have forgotten that it had just cum. I started jacking off again, and my cock, still wet from all the pre-cum, made a low squishing sound, not unlike a very wet pussy being played with. I told myself that she didn't know I was there, but she suddenly switched gears. Rolling over to the bedside table, she opened the drawer, and pulled out a small, standard rocket-shaped vibrator. She twisted the base to a low hum, started rubbing it around her pussy, legs spread much wider now, and began pinching and pulling at her nipples.
In less than a minute, though, she turned up the vibrator to high, skipping the middle setting altogether. This was no longer a marathon, this was a sexual sprint, and although I was too caught up in the moment to realize it then, in hindsight, she was clearly putting on a nasty show just for me. She was pinching her nipples harder, pulling them, stretching them as far as they would go, sometimes grabbing a breast, squeezing so hard it would leave red marks, like a hand shaped bikini. Meanwhile, with her other hand, she moved the vibrator back and forth, just a couple of centimeters, pressing it hard against her clit, moaning louder, guttural, with an occasional "Yes, yeeeeesss" thrown in with a deep, needy growl.
The hand playing with her tits suddenly dropped, snaked underneath her, and fingers began rolling in circles around her puckered hole. I could see the large dark spot she was making on the duvet, so it shouldn't have surprised me that she was wet enough to suddenly cram two, maybe three fingers up her ass, and began spasming, just as I had just done a few minutes earlier. But this was so much more, like slam-dancing in a mosh pit, it was almost an orgasmic seizure. Just listening to her "oh, oh, oh-oh-oh" would be enough to send anyone over the edge, and I, once again, caught my cum shooting out the tip of my cock like a seven inch canon.
