This Changes Everything

Mother and daughter hugged but daughter Samantha was looking over Meghan's shoulder at me with a wry grin.

They started talking about school and I carried Meghan's travel bag up to the master suite, flicked on a light switch for the lamps on the nightstands and threw the bag on the king-size bed.

I gave the room one more go-round: under the bed, under the pillows, drawers of the nightstand, trash can.

"Jon, you lose something," came Meghan's voice.

I was startled and she could tell.

"Sorry about scaring you."

Meghan was leaning against the door frame on the opposite side from where Samantha leaned last night. Isn't that an interesting juxtaposition, I muse.

"No, baby, just taking pride that everything is cleaned up for you," I reply. "Sheets are cleaned and changed."

Meghan looks over her shoulder then back and whispers, "Did you stain them?"

Twenty minutes later I drop into the bean bag chair in the den with a slice of pizza on a paper plate, soon to be followed by Samantha in a night shirt, who comes in and sits on top of me with her slice, straight into my lap, crotch over my cock.

"How was practice today," I ask.

"Oh, I guess OK," she says. "My mind wasn't on my game, again.'

Meghan walks in and flops into another seat.

"Damn, I'm tired," the wife says. "It was a long day with the flight and everything."

Samantha grinds that panties-covered pussy into my crotch.

"You're too heavy," I say as cover. "Would you please go get Mom a glass of cabernet. You know, that bottle I opened last night."

Samantha gets off me in the nick of time before a boner develops.

As she returns to deliver the glass, she announces that she has a date tomorrow night.

"Oh, yeah," Meghan says. "Who with?"

"Just Josh."

Meghan looks at me and I shrug. Josh has been pretty harmless.

A glass of cabernet and a slice of pizza later, Meghan heads upstairs. She and Samantha get ready for bed. I hear them chattering from the floor below.

"Jo-on, I'm going to bed," making my name two syllables.

"Alright, be up soon," I call back.

I know what's going to happen next.

About 10 minutes later I hear Samantha's door open and close and soon she's tiptoeing down the stairs and over to me sitting at my desk in the den.

She swivels my chair to the side sits on my lap, this time sans panties and I feel that familiar 98.6 degrees emanating from my daughter's honey pot.

"Baby, I haven't done much work the past few days, and you know why, and I have freelancers to supervise," I say rather unconvincingly.

"Besides, I just came in the car with Mom," I tell Samantha, back to the honesty-is-the-best policy.

She looks deflated suddenly.

"How'd that happen?" she says with attitude.

I shrug and tell her Mom wanted to service me.

"Oh my god, you let that slut suck your cock, Dad. Seriously. Who knows what that mouth did all week."

Now that's a turn-on. I do know, but if I didn't that would be better.

"Samantha," I whisper. "I don't mean to not believe you about Mom, but I need more to go on other than your say-so about phone conversations you might have misunderstood.

I want to get a look at her phone and see what texting she is doing."

"If it's true, are you going to kick her out?" my daughter asks. "So we can be alone?"

"Samantha, honey, I don't know," was all I could say.

Silence for a few minutes. My daughter lays her head on my right shoulder and I feel and hear her breathing in that ear.

"Baby (yes I called her that again), you are a good daughter and a great lover, but we should not take too many chances while Mom is home."

I feel her nodding.

"Let's go do something fun tomorrow. How 'bout the farmers market to pick up fresh veggies and on to the horse farm to watch some riders train?"

"You mean like a date, Dad?"

"Yes, baby, a date."

A short time later, I slip into bed with Meghan.

"Samantha go to bed?" Meghan asks, half-asleep.

"She's in her room, but I don't know if she's in bed."

I slide across the bed and against my wife. She's naked, for a change.

My cock lays in the crack of her ass and I grab a hip, pull her to me, then fall asleep.

In the middle of the night, I rise to piss with a stellar stiffy then come back to bed into the same position and take Meghan, making mental notes about the feel of my wife's cunt versus my daughter's pussy.

I plow through though, eventually popping my cork deep into her cunt, letting loose a stream of sperm. I had a strange thought: What if this is the last time I fuck her?

I wasn't sure how awake Meghan was, but I did it anyway.

Saturday went very well for Samantha and I. We went to the market and the horse farm where my daughter had taken lessons when she was a child.

We thought we'd give her a chance to become an equestrian, but she gravitated away from that. Meghan played tennis on Saturday and had lunch with her girlfriends.

Samantha didn't go out on date but instead Josh came over.

We all sat and watched a movie but Samantha sent Josh packing soon after.

They were more friends than lovers but I had a feeling they were friends with benefits previously because Josh looked a bit downcast as he left.

I stayed away from Samantha and the bedtime went smoothly.

Dad and daughter played basketball Sunday morning, working up a sweat that suited Samantha and I well.

"Dad, I have to do something," Samantha said as we packed into my SUV.

"Where do you want to go?" I respond.

She smiles that beautiful teen smile at me, making my testicles twitch.

"No, Dad, I mean something a little more stimulating."

The drive home was only 10 minutes but she stuck a hand in her shorts as we drove and rubbed one out, breathing heavily at orgasm. I had a pronounced stiffy as we pulled in the driveway, Meghan sitting on the front porch.

Samantha laughed as she got out of the car.

"What's so funny?" Meghan asked.

"Oh, nothing Mom."

I took them both to brunch at a restaurant across town.

Meghan was occupied by her cellphone quite a bit then had an announcement over the meal: There was a problem at the Port of Los Angeles that the company needed her to straighten out. She was taking a redeye tonight.

I feigned disappointment over the table.

Samantha was sitting next to Meghan and could barely contain her glee.

I told Meghan that I would drive her to the airport but she wouldn't hear of it, insisting to go on her own.

"It'll be too late, Jon," she said. "You need to get some sleep. You have a lot on your plate for work on Monday."

Samantha and I watched Meghan pull out of the driveway at 9 p.m. and by 9:30 my daughter had moved clothes into the master suite for school, and we were naked in bed.

I wish I hadn't fucked Meghan last night.

"Did you check her phone, Dad," she asks but I have to tell her no.

After a little kissing, but not much, Samantha puts a hand on the top of my head and begins to push me.

"Down Daddy," she says, pointing with the other hand.

Eager to please my teen beauty, my tongue starts a journey and the hand leaves my head. Samantha clasps her hands behind her head and auburn hair like she's sitting back to watch a movie, apparently planning on enjoying herself.

I stop at her small breasts to lick and bite the nipples then continue the saliva trail to the top of her gash and that bald mound.

I inhale deeply and enjoy the aroma of my daughter's gash. The smell is clean with just a hint of sexual energy.

Then I stick out my tongue and glide it up and down over the labia, pressing more firmly after a minute until the folds open and the hole and the clitoris are revealed.

I taste the juice at the entrance for a moment, dipping the tip of my tongue into the hole, then focus on the button, slowly, very slowly sucking it into my mouth.

With that, my daughter/girlfriend grabs a handful of Daddy's hair and begins an up and down movement. My head is driven by the hand and I keep sucking the clit.

After a minute I began and round-and-round motion, guided by her hand. Some of the fluid from her vagina helps lubricate my mouth and hasten her rising tide.

Round and round until suddenly she pulls my mouth hard against her clit and I suck harder. I realize there's a raging hard-on straining between my stomach and the bed, begging for action.

"Daddy, I think you need to fuck me now," my daughter says hoarsely, urgently.

I crawl between her legs, ready to fuck her missionary style for the first time. A little moonlight and a glow from the night light sets the mood.

I drink in her beauty and realize the depravity of fucking my daughter again all at once. Once I begin to run the engorged head of my cock up and down the labia, my morals disappear.

At the right moment: push. The shaft goes in easily and to the hilt. Samantha gasps. Her nostrils are flared. So young and so able to enjoy sex.

I start a familiar movement: very slowly in and out, in and out. I don't time it, but it's a few minutes.

Samantha's eyes are closed and her breathing is heavy. I get off my knees and hold myself steady with hands and feet, none of my body touching hers. The only contact is cock and cunt.

My daughter's legs fall wide open in surrender.

After a couple minutes, I pick up the pace, not pulling all the way out and not hitting bottom anymore, just short quick strokes. As the tempo picks up, so does our breathing.

A little faster, then a little faster. My daughter's pussy is gripping and slick, resisting as I pull back, welcoming as I push in.

Soon, the climaxes hit. I am back on my knees as my spasms strike.

First Samantha releases a gush of fluid, then I cum, spurting semen deep inside my daughter's vagina. My testicles pulse and release wave after wave of seed into her hole.

Sweat drips off my forehead onto Samantha's cheeks. She turns her head to catch a drop in her mouth.

Soon, I am spent and lower my face to hers, kissing her long and lovingly on the mouth, and she returns the favor, tongues dancing.

It's no longer odd to be exchanging saliva with her.

My daughter, in love and in lust for her father. Me, in love and lust for my daughter. What a wonderful situation.

Our breathing returns to normal and I dismount Samantha, laying next to her on the bed, a rush of sauces escape her pussy and my cock is soaked. She's in no hurry to drain Daddy's sperm from her young cunny.

Mental note to self: Launder the sheets, again.

"Dad, how long is Mom going to be gone?" she asks.

I think for a moment.

"I don't recall that she said," I answer.

Soon, Samantha rolls away from me and backs in, pressing our bodies together, my shriveled cock in the crack of her ass.

Bliss.

Sleep comes and with it dreams, some of foreboding.

Sometime later I am aware of footsteps around me. My first thought is to sit up and confront an intruder. But no, alarms would have sounded if it was an intruder. Besides, an intruder would probably not want to wake us, just steal our shit.

I recognize the footfalls: It's Meghan. No shoes on, just nylon-clad feet quiet as can be.

What is she doing back?

She's walking around the bed, from side to side.

My first thought is to pretend that I'm sleeping, hoping that she doesn't get the wrong idea (which is the right idea) about what's going on.

There's no way that's going to happen. Forget it.

Meghan flicks the switch at the doorway to the master suite and the lamps on each nightstand go on.

Sudden extreme anxiety. Stomach in knots. The moment of truth is here.

"I had to see this for myself," my wife says. "And don't tell me it's not what I think."