Wendy 3

The train journey took two hours, and I sat staring out of the carriage window, oblivious to the countryside flashing by, oblivious to other passengers, oblivious to everything except thoughts of my daughter Wendy.

It had begun when my wife was killed in a car crash when Wendy was seventeen. I was devastated – it had been a terrific marriage, not least for the fantastic sex, where nothing had been taboo.

Wendy seemed to grow up overnight, taking charge and looking after everything. She was wonderful, comforting me and running the household, cleaning and cooking while I tried to come to terms with what had happened. At the funeral she'd put her arms round me and hugged me with tears in her eyes.

'Don't worry, Daddy – I'll take care of you,' she'd whispered.

Gradually, we'd settled down to a routine, and life more or les returned to normal. But then I became aware of changes in Wendy. She no longer went out with boyfriends, seeming to prefer to stay at home with me. Secretly, I was glad – I'd always resented her having boyfriends, imagining them kissing her and pawing her young body, perhaps even fucking her …

Also, as summer approached, Wendy began to wear fewer and more revealing clothes – very short skirts that showed off her bare legs, skimpy tops and half-unbuttoned blouses, and she rarely wore a bra around the house, apparently unmindful of the fact that her nipples were often clearly defined through whatever she was wearing.

When she was younger, I'd often guiltily enjoyed seeing her in her school uniform, with its very short skirts showing off her long, bare legs, and occasionally being rewarded by a glimpse of her knickers, and watching her budding breasts starting to strain against her blouses and sweaters. She'd always been very affectionate, sitting on my lap and cuddling me, often pressing her breasts against me, with her skirt sliding up as she wriggled into a more comfortable position. This often resulted in her bottom pressing against my involuntary erection, and sometimes I couldn't resist resting my hand on her bare thigh. Now, her innocent affection and careless display of her body had an even greater effect on me, but Wendy seemed completely unaware of my frequent arousal.

On her eighteenth birthday I took her out to dinner to celebrate. She wore a short, low-cut black dress and high heels, she'd had her hair done, made her face up and put on some of her mother's jewellery, and she looked very grown-up and sophisticated. I couldn't take my eyes off her, and when we danced she moulded her soft body against me and I tried to prevent her feeling my growing erection. I don't know if I succeeded completely, because she squeezed my hand and gave me a sly smile.

When we got home she threw her arms round my neck and thanked me for a lovely evening, and for the first time gave me a long kiss on the mouth. Her tender lips felt tantalizingly inviting, and it was all I could do to gently free myself and say goodnight.

After that, it seemed natural for us to regularly kiss each other on the lips, usually briefly, but sometimes a little longer than necessary, and our hands would touch and we seemed to brush against each other more and more frequently.

We often ate at the breakfast bar in the kitchen, sitting side by side on stools, which gave me repeated glimpses of her cleavage, and our legs would touch or her breast might sometimes brush against my arm. One morning Wendy accidentally spilled orange juice on her tight-fitting white tee-shirt. I'd already noticed that for once she was wearing a bra – it was black, and fully discernible through the thin material.

'Shit!' she cried, and peeled off her tee-shirt, and I saw that the bra in fact consisted of nothing more than scraps of open-mesh almost transparent black lace, and I felt myself stirring as I gazed at her fully visible nipples.

I'm a writer, and I spent most of my time in my study-cum-office working and earning our living. One morning Wendy came in bearing a mug of coffee. She was wearing a pair of abbreviated and very tight shorts, and a white sleeveless blouse, mostly unbuttoned and tied beneath her breasts to expose a large expanse of bare midriff.

'Still working on the novel, Daddy?' she smiled, and stood beside me, riffling through what I'd written. Then she pulled back my chair slightly and sat on my lap, thumbing through the pages. I was acutely aware of her bare thighs and midriff, and when I glanced down I saw that most of her left breast was visible. I rested my hand on her waist as I reached past her to pick up the coffee, and Wendy whistled softly.

'I like this bit, Daddy!' She wriggled her bottom on my lap, and I left my hand where it was on her waist, enjoying the feel of her warm bare skin.

'"Paul rolled her swollen nipple between his forefinger and thumb, squeezing it and then tugging it lightly,"' she read. '"Darling – that feels wonderful! – but – but don't be so gentle! Be rough with me! Yes! Like that!"'

Wendy smiled at me roguishly. 'Can I read some more juicy stuff, Daddy?'

'No!' I said with pretended sternness. 'Go away and let me do some work!'

She pouted, and slid off my lap. 'You're a meanie, Daddy! I was just starting to enjoy myself!'

So was I, I thought, but I just growled: 'And you're a naughty girl!'

Her shorts were strained across her beautifully rounded bottom, and I slapped her playfully. Wendy caught her breath, and then she giggled. '"Darling – that feels wonderful! – but – but don't be so gentle! Be rough with me!"' she quoted.

I grinned, and smacked her again, much harder this time.

She hesitated, then leaned forward to kiss me swiftly, but not before I looked down her blouse. Not only were her breasts completely visible, but I saw that her nipples were jutting rigidly. 'I – I think I could get to like you doing that to me, Daddy,' she whispered, and then she straightened and walked to the door, while I stared at her gently swaying bottom, imagining spanking it properly, minus shorts and panties …

I tried to concentrate on what I was doing, but all I could think of was my daughter squirming delightfully against my erection, and my hand feeling her soft smooth skin, while we joked about sexual dialogue, and I found myself dreaming of spanking her bare bottom …

It was a Saturday, and at lunchtime I suggested going out to a pub for a glass of beer and a sandwich. I was disappointed to see that Wendy had put on a bra, but I could still stare at her gleaming bare thighs and take pleasure in admiring her cleavage.

We went to the bar together to order our drinks and food – it was very crowded, and we found ourselves pressed together, and again I put my hand on her bare waist, managing to hold her close.

Wendy was obviously enjoying herself, and we went out into the beer garden. We were lucky enough to be able to find space at the end of a picnic table facing each other, and she chattered constantly, her cheeks flushed and her eye sparkling, apparently unaware that our legs frequently touched beneath the table.

'Those things you write about, Daddy – did you do them with Mummy?' she suddenly asked, staring at me boldly.

'I – I don't think we should talk about that,' I stammered weakly, and Wendy giggled.

'Mummy and I used to talk about the things you did to her – I loved hearing about them, it was exciting, but sometimes I felt jealous …'

Her eyes dropped, and I saw that she was blushing, and then she hurriedly changed the subject.

We walked back slowly after lunch, and once again I slipped my arm round her bare middle, and she briefly rested her head on my shoulder. Then she took my hand, holding it tightly as we walked, and I found it was constantly brushing against her bare thigh.

When we got home, writing was out of the question - I would never have been able to think of anything but my daughter's body, so I announced that I was going to mow the lawn. Wendy decided that she felt lazy, and would sunbathe and watch me working. She went up to her room to change into a swimsuit, and I busied myself getting the mower from the shed.

Just as I was ready to start, I happened to glance up at Wendy's bedroom window, and there she was, looking at me, completely naked. I stopped in my tracks, unable to take my eyes from her body, and then she blew me a kiss and disappeared from sight.

She came down a few minutes later wearing a lime green bikini and carrying a book. She deposited the book on the patio table and crossed the lawn to me.

'Do you like it, Daddy?' she asked, pirouetting slowly so that I could take in every detail of her bikini. In fact, there was very of it – it was just a few scraps of material that just about covered her breasts and the base of her belly, and from the rear it vanished completely between the cheeks of her bottom.

I told her I liked what I could see very much, which was true …She giggled. 'Are you sure you're talking about the bikini, Daddy?'

Then her expression changed. 'I'm sorry if I embarrassed you just now, Daddy,' she said, smiling shyly, 'letting you see me with nothing on …'

'It's me who should say sorry, for staring at you, darling,' I got out, aware that I was still gazing at her barely-concealed breasts.

'I didn't mind you seeing me naked, Daddy,' she almost whispered. 'In fact, I – I liked it …'

I almost grabbed her and tore off her bikini there and then, but she turned away and settled herself on a sun-bed on the patio, and the moment had passed.

Wendy prepared a simple salad for dinner that evening, and I opened a bottle of wine. She'd put on a short, thin summer dress that made it evident that she wasn't wearing a bra, and it seemed that she smiled at me almost sadly. We picked at our food and drank more wine than usual, trying to make conversation, until suddenly she burst into tears, dropped her knife and fork and rushed from the room.

I hurried after her, following her upstairs to her room, to find her sobbing on her bed. Her face was buried in her arms, and her skirt was rucked up to the tops of her thighs. I sat on the bed beside her and put my hand on her bare shoulder.

'Darling, what's the matter?' I asked, stroking her, hating to see her like this.

She rolled onto her back and stared up at me, her cheeks streaked with tears and her breasts heaving.

'Daddy – I – we – it's driving me mad, knowing that you want me, and I want you. I want you so badly, darling! Why won't you fuck me?'

'You're my daughter, sweetheart! Yes, of course I want you, but …'

Wendy slid one foot up the bed, raising her knee, and the hem of her dress moved even higher. I couldn't resist any longer, and I transferred my hand from her shoulder to her bare thigh, slowly sliding it up her soft, silky-smooth skin. Our eyes locked, and she parted her legs and arched her back, thrusting her breasts up and offering herself to me.

I slipped my arm under her and pulled her against me, and then my mouth covered hers and I was kissing her frantically. Her soft lips parted, and my tongue searched for hers, finding it, feeling it welcoming mine as we kissed wetly.

Wendy squirmed against me, and my hand moved between her legs. I discovered that she was wearing minuscule panties, and the delicate material was already soaked. She helped me pull her dress up, our mouths still working on each other, breaking off only when she raised her arms so that I could tug the dress over her head, and then we were kissing again as I fondled her naked breast.

I moved my mouth down over her neck and throat, letting my hands roam over her body as I kissed her slender shoulders. I kissed her arms and her hands, sucking her fingers, turning her over so that I could kiss her back, tracing her vertebrae with my tongue, rolling her onto her back again to kiss her breasts. I sucked her stiff nipples, biting them gently and hearing her moan softly.

My mouth travelled down, nibbling her fluttering belly, and then I was kissing her left leg. I started at the top, slowly working my way down to finally reach her foot, biting each toe in turn, and then I switched to the toes of her other foot, before kissing my way up her calf and thigh.

Wendy lifted her hips to let me pull off her panties, and then she cried out as my mouth found the lips of her vulva. She was already trembling, and when my tongue discovered her clitoris her body jerked spasmodically. She tangled her fingers in my hair, grinding my face between her legs as I used my lips, tongue and teeth on her.

I could feel that she was soaked in perspiration, and she was gasping for breath, panting and moaning in the throes of her orgasm. She writhed on the bed, twisting and turning, and when she rolled over I slapped her bottom, hard, and then I spanked her a few more times.

She fumbled with my clothes, her fingers shaking uncontrollably, and at last I, too, was naked. She reached for my throbbing penis, and I let her kiss it for a moment. She tried to pull me down on top of her, but I hadn't finished kissing her. My mouth and hands must have covered every inch of her body – it lasted a long time, it must have taken me half an hour, teasing her, kissing her, caressing her, sometimes being rough with her. Finally, she could bear it no longer.

'Do it to me Daddy, please! I'm not a virgin, and I won't get pregnant – fuck me, darling, fuck me!'

She may not have been a virgin, but she was still very tight, and I eased into her gently. Wendy stared up at me wide-eyed. 'Oh, God, Daddy, yes!' she breathed.

I began to slowly move in and out of her, my mouth on hers and my hand kneading her breast. My daughter's soft young body, her yielding flesh and her hot, stretched vagina were almost unbearably exciting. I don't know if she had a fresh orgasm or if it was still the same one, but as I fucked her she writhed against me, panting, grinding her breasts against my chest and digging her nails into my back.

I tried to make it last as long as possible, but the stimulation was agonizing, and I felt myself starting to lose control. Wendy felt it too, and her mouth opened in a soundless scream as I speeded up. She started to buck wildly beneath me, our perspiring bodies squelching together as she wrapped her legs round my waist, forcing me deeper into her. She sank her teeth into my shoulder, clinging to me as I pounded into her, and then her head thrashed from side to side on the pillow, twisting like an eel, her body slippery in my grasp.

I heard my grunts mingling with her gasping moans as I fucked her harder and harder, and then she screamed loudly as I erupted into her. My semen spurted endlessly, and she kissed me feverishly, her teeth drawing blood from my bottom lip as her body jerked uncontrollably. My penis refused to soften, and I kept fucking her, even after the flood of my semen dwindled away, and Wendy fell back limply, her body responding lifelessly as I rammed my penis into her again and again.

She stared at me unseeingly, her eyes glazed, reaching up to pull my head down so that she could kiss me, making little unintelligible sounds as she clutched at me. Again I was gripping her soft breasts, squeezing her nipples as I continued to fuck her, and then her hand cupped my balls, fondling me as her hips lifted to match my movements.

I felt myself stirring once more, and my daughter cried out as I exploded into her for the second time. She clung to me, kissing me and telling me how much she loved me, until at last I emptied the last of my semen into her overflowing vagina.

Eventually my penis softened, and I eased myself off her as it slipped out of her. I collapsed onto my back, exhausted, and Wendy sprawled half on top of me, kissing me repeatedly.

'Daddy – I never, never dreamed it could be like that!' she whispered. 'The other times, they were just boys, and they just fucked me quickly, and then it was all over. Oh, Daddy, I love you!'

I saw that she was crying, and I kissed her tears, and told her how wonderful it had been for me, too. I got off the bed and went downstairs to collect the bottle of wine and our glasses. I glanced at the clock, and was amazed to see that we'd been making love for nearly two hours, two of the most marvellous hours of my life.

Back in the bedroom, Wendy was sitting up waiting for me. I saw the marks I'd made on her soft tender body, and a trickle of my semen on her thigh. She smiled and kissed me eagerly, then she took the wine and poured some in a glass. She looked at me, her eyes sparkling mischievously, then dipped her breast into the glass and offered it to me. I sucked the wine from her warm, yielding flesh, feeling her nipple hardening between my lips, then she poured more wine on her belly and made me lick it off.

Then she poured us both a glass, and settled back with my arm around her, sighing contentedly.

'Daddy – I want you to teach me everything, to do everything to me. I don't care if you hurt me – I – I want you to hurt me, and fuck me over and over, and do all the things you did with Mummy …'

It was the start of thirty-six hours of almost constant sex. We paused only to sleep for a few hours, shower, and grab something to eat, still naked and kissing and fondling each other, never out of each other's sight. We stood naked at the bedroom window admiring the moonlight, and Wendy turned to me and rubbed my cock against her soft belly. I kissed her, and she kept massaging me against her yielding flesh until I spurted over her body, and she smeared my semen over her skin with her hand, smiling at me.

Wendy wanted to suck my dick, and she couldn't get enough of my semen. She swallowed it, made me come in her hand, and spurt over her face and body, and soon she could take the entire length of my cock down her throat. She begged me to fuck her bottom: even with a generous application of Vaseline, she was very tight, but she made me continue, and then I fucked her hard, reaching under her to manipulate her clitoris and fondle her hanging breasts, until she orgasmed and I spurted wildly up her back passage.

Sometimes I made love to her gently, sometimes I held her down and practically raped her, and all the while she pleaded for more. I spanked her until her bottom glowed a fiery red and then fucked her, and we fucked in the shower, in the kitchen, on the stairs and on the patio. She rubbed oil on her breasts, then kneaded my cock with them until my semen jetted up under her chin and over her face, and I'd wake up in the night to find she had my cock in her mouth.

We talked about how much we'd wanted each other in the past, and told each other that we'd both masturbated thinking of each other's bodies, and then we watched each other masturbate. I told her that I'd felt guilty about being aroused by seeing her in her school uniform when she was younger, and she dug out her school blouse and skirt and put them on with nothing underneath, and I fucked her while she was wearing them.

Then I told her how much she'd excited me sitting on my lap, so she did it again, this time with no knickers on, hoisting her skirt and grinding her bare bottom against my penis until I pulled her down onto the carpet and fucked her.

She told me that she'd had fantasies, too: one was being in the bath when I walked in and sat on the side of the bath, looking at her naked body. Then she'd take my cock out and suck it, until I came and spurted my semen over her face. Another was being naughty, and I'd spank her and send her to bed early. She'd wait in bed, naked, for me to come and kiss her goodnight, and then I'd slip my hand beneath the sheet and feel her. We re-lived these fantasies again and again, and more besides …

Wendy was insatiable – over the next few months, she constantly wanted me to fuck her. If we were in the car, she'd ask me to find somewhere to park and then fuck her, if we were out together she'd find a deserted alleyway and drag me up it to fuck her, we fucked behind some bushes in the park, sometimes if we had friends round she pull me out into the garden and make me fuck her, or if we were out somewhere she'd tell me to take her home and fuck her. Even if we were out together in public she'd whisper hat she wanted me to feel her; she'd turn towards me, and I'd surreptitiously slip my hand in her sweater or up under her skirt.