I stood there in my daughter's room for a moment just taking in the sight of her curled up, naked body, in case it was the last time I would ever see her again.
She was truly the most beautiful thing I had ever seen, and indeed, ever created. Her smooth, flawless skin was stunning, even more so with a light sheen of sweat from our exertions. My daughter was practically glowing as she lay there, passed out from her orgasms.
I leaned over, gave her a light kiss on the top of her head, then ran my fingers down the curve of her body starting at her shoulder, following her arm till her fingers met her hip, then continued around her body following her thigh to her ankle. My fingers held there for just a moment more, burning every image and touch into my memory.
"I love you, sweetie, now and forever."
She didn't stir. I must have taken it out of her. That thought put a smile on my face which was chased away very quickly by the thought of what I was going to walk into when I entered my bedroom.
That is if there wasn't a piece of furniture blocking the door from the inside and a packed bag on the outside.
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I was in luck, there was no luggage or clothes occupying the hallway. "That's a good start," I thought to myself.
The next bit of positive news was that the bedroom door wasn't locked, and it didn't seem to be blocked by anything, so I opened it, slowly, and cautiously.
I was not expecting the vignette that revealed itself as I pushed the door wider.
There was my wife, on the floor, next to our bed, her head on her arm resting on the edge, her legs, curled underneath her. Her other hand seemed to be in between her thighs and was moving, slowly, in what I could only assume was a languid masturbation of her pussy. I could hear, both sharp intakes of breath and crying.
This was not what I expected at all. I had been gearing up for screaming, arguing, yelling, throwing objects, and accusations of, "How could you?!" On the list of possible scenarios, this was the lowest.
I approached, cautiously, and slowly, crouched down so I could get to her level. My hand reached out, tentatively, to lightly touch her thigh, so she knew I was there. She hadn't looked up since I had entered and I wasn't sure if she even realized someone else was in the room. She may not have heard me come in between her heavy breathing and crying.
When my fingertips brushed her leg, her body jumped, just a bit, like I had shocked her.
"Honey?" I whispered and waited.
It seemed like an eternity later that she finally lifted her head and looked at me, tears streaking down her beautiful face. My heart broke at that moment, seeing my wife upset, knowing that I was the cause, or so I thought.
She just stared at me for a long time, her focus seeming to come in and out as if she wasn't always seeing me.
Finally, in a hoarse whisper, she asked, "How long?"
I knew what she wanted and I replied, "It only started today. Today was the first time, I swear." Then, I proceeded to share with her everything that happened between our daughter and me since the phone call earlier in the day.
During my story, I expected my wife to get more and more upset. Just the opposite happened, however.
The longer I went on, the harder my wife seemed to rub herself between her legs. I was confused by her reaction but decided to go into increasing detail about my interactions with our sixteen-year-old daughter, which seemed to stir a fire in my wife's pussy.
What you need to understand is, my wife and I were not very adventurous when it came to anything sexual. We had sex, occasionally, when we had time, quietly, if our daughter was home, or a bit more boisterously if our girl was away at a friend's house. So, although we did have sexual relations, we did not even masturbate in front of each other. It's just not something we did.
The fact that my wife was sitting on the floor rubbing herself while we talked when I thought I was getting in trouble was confusing and disturbing, and yet at the same time, a bit arousing.
My wife was still a beautiful woman. She had put on a little bit of weight since we had gotten married, but it was in all the right places and I maintain the opinion that it just means there is more for me to love. It also meant her boobs had gotten bigger and made for a much better tit fuck.
I had had a hard-on while eating out my daughter's cunt, but with my wife catching us, I never got to relieve it, and it had gone down when I thought I was going to be kicked out of the house. Now, however, watching my wife rubbing her pussy faster and faster as I described in vivid detail eating our daughter's smooth, hairless slit, my cock was starting to rise once again.
After finishing my description, my wife started to shake, and her back arched, she had, what I hoped, was a wonderful orgasm.
I let her settle down, and I waited. I also had to reach down and reposition my hardening cock in my shorts. She noticed.
She looked down at the bulge in my pants and licked her lips. Her hands reached out and started to rub the front of my shorts. "I can't believe he's getting hard again after all you've been through today. I can't even remember the last time you got more than one erection in a day. Not that I'm complaining. I can usually only handle one of them a day. But, I have a story of my own before we take care of it, if that's okay?"
I was about to say that she had me by the balls so what choice did I have, but she doesn't always appreciate my sense of humor. I nodded at her to continue.
"So, this story, it's not going to be easy for me to say, so I just ask that you be patient with me and remain open-minded, okay?"
I nodded again, enjoying what her hands were doing. I didn't care what her story was, as long as she continued to massage my cock and balls. The sight of her getting herself off had excited me more than seeing my daughter naked. And to be honest, since only a few minutes before I had been expecting to be homeless, and now I was getting a handjob from my lovely, amazing, sexy, horny wife, she could recite the phonebook to me right now and I would give her my full attention.
My wife looked me in the eyes as she continued to massage me and started her tale.
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"I know I don't talk a lot about my family while I was growing up. But my family was close. We did everything together and told each other everything. You know my mother passed away when I was fourteen. That left my father devastated. He mourned her for years, never dating, never trying to replace her, he said, in deference to me. I watched him draw into himself even as he tried to be both parents to me."
She paused for a moment but continued her massage.
"As my father tried to be both a mother and a father for me, I was trying to be a wife and a daughter for him. I would cook special meals for him and do the laundry. On our movie nights, I would curl up next to him on the couch and snuggle up to his shoulder. I loved him so much and it hurt me to watch him disappear."
"It wasn't anything tawdry. It wasn't sexual. He was my daddy, and I loved him, and I wanted to be more for him. I wanted him to feel that love and to know that even though his wife was gone, there was still someone here for him. I started to wear pretty dresses for him. I longed to feel his love return, like when we were a whole family."
"On my seventeenth birthday, he asked me if I wanted a party to celebrate. I told him that I wanted to celebrate, but just with him. We went out to dinner together. I dressed especially nice for him. My boobs had started to grow, but they weren't full woman's breasts yet. The dress I borrowed from my friend pushed what I had up and together and gave me cleavage for the first time in my life. I felt my father's eyes on them all night as we talked and ate. I also got some admiring looks from our waiter that night too. The attention started feelings in me that I had never had before."
I wasn't sure where this was going, and although I was still enjoying the feeling of her hands on me, my cock had calmed down a little.
"For dessert, my father had talked to the waiter and they brought out a cake for me, with the wait staff singing. I closed my eyes, made a wish, and blew out my candles. When the staff had left us, my father leaned in and asked me what I wished for. I just smiled at him and told him I would tell him when we got home."
"As we left the restaurant, I reached out and took his hand in mine and he didn't pull away. It felt so nice to be connected to him again, and as we walked out, I could feel the admiring glances of other fathers in the place."
"We even held hands in the car on the way home and just talked and even laughed a little. It was almost like I had him back. That was until we pulled into the driveway. Everything seemed to revert to the status quo when we got home and he took his hand from mine. I watched the smile fall from his face as we stared at the house."
"He started to get out of the car and I quickly grabbed his hand and pulled him back."
"Daddy, wait. Don't you want to know what I wished for my birthday?"
"He looked at me and gave me a soft, humoring smile and said he would love to know what I wished."
"I looked him in the eyes, took his hand and hugged it to my chest, and said, 'I wished for you to be happy again and for me to be able to help with that.'
"He stared back at me. Almost like seeing me for the first time in a long while and I saw his gaze not only see my face but slide down my whole body. The seat belt slid between my breasts and not only pressed the dress in to accentuate them even more but also pulled the material down a bit so I had more skin showing than at dinner. The back of his hand that I was hugging was making contact with the top of my breasts and felt warm and rough."
"Well, Daddy? How can I make you happy again? Please tell me. I'll do anything."
"He looked at me, and I saw a single tear form in the corner of his eye. 'Oh sweetie, I wish you could. I wish we could. But it wouldn't be right. I just miss your mother so much and it's been so long and every day I see you, you look more and more like she did when I first met her. I could never resist her. She had me wrapped around her little finger the first time she flashed her breasts at me.' He absently started to rub the back of his hand over my chest and with every little movement, his hand rolled my dress down just a bit further as I didn't have enough up top to hold it up."
"I looked at his sad eyes and made a decision right then that I was going to take care of my Daddy, no matter what. With that decision made, I unhooked my seat belt and moved across the car, straddled his lap, pulled down my dress to expose my young boobies, and said, 'Did mommy's breasts look anything like this Daddy?"
"His gaze locked onto my pert, budding boobs, and his breath caught in his throat and for a moment, I wasn't sure if he was still breathing at all."
"They are perfect baby. Just perfect. Are you sure you want this sweetie? Because you know, Daddies and daughters are not supposed to do this. It's not right. It's not accepted. No one would understand. No one could know."
"First of all, I am not going to tell anyone, Daddy. Second of all, I have lots of friends who have done this with their daddies. Some do it because they want their daddy to buy them something. Others do it because they think their daddy is the most handsome man in their lives. I want to do it for you to make you happy and let you know you don't have to live life without love. What better reason is there than that, Daddy? Please, touch me, be with me, do whatever you did with Mommy that first time. I'll be your daughter and your wife."
