Chapter One: Dreams Conjoined

It came out of nowhere. The sudden, intense winter storm caught meteorologists and travelers by surprise. It was different, ferocious, and full of unseen influence. The intensity of the snow, gusting and causing whiteouts, forced motorists to halt their journeys and seek shelter. There was a strange electrical energy in the air that could almost be felt, writhing and pulsing with the wind.

That night two weary travelers checked into a motel, late, in the dark. Only one room, a single, remained vacant. They thanked their stars that anything was available and gladly took it for the night. Exhausted, they changed and climbed into the one bed.

Snow fell in waves driven by gusting winds, but the two weary travelers fell into an exhausted sleep, a deep sleep. As they slept the strange electrical energy intensified. Had they been standing outside in the storm they would have felt the hairs on their arms stand up, yet it wasn't static that writhed through the night. It was something else, something strange.

As their sleep deepened and they unconsciously cuddled closer for warmth, their sleep entered the REM stage.

He dreamed.

In his dream he was lying in bed. A noise disturbed his slumber. He opened his eyes and saw her in the doorway. Her long red hair falling in soft waves over her narrow shoulders and down onto her long, thick white bathrobe. He looked at her face, lightly freckled, petite, elfin yet beautiful. Her pretty dark green eyes shone with puppy love.

In his dream she stood as still as a statue watching him, looking into his eyes. He saw her hands rise from her sides to the belt at her waist and pause. Slowly, hesitantly she untied the belt and let it fall to the sides, the front of the robe opening slightly, a teasing hint of a white bra visible in the emerging gap. He watched as she smiled shyly at him, her hands moving up to hold the edges of her robe, then gradually letting slip it over her shoulders and fall to the floor. He heard himself gasp as he absorbed the sight of her adolescent body, slim, showing the first blush of puberty.

In his dream he gazed with growing excitement at her lacy training bra, small, newly budding breasts riding high and proud on her slender chest, roseate areolae hinted at through the lace. His eyes moved down her body appreciating her small waist and the first onset of maturity evident in the slightest flare of her hips. His breath caught in his throat, desire coursing through him joining the love in his heart. His penis thickened as he gazed at her white lacy bikini panties. He saw her perfect pubis, plump, prominent, perfectly outlined by the lacy covering and a hint of darkness beneath, the first light dusting of pubic hair. His erection throbbed as he admired her slim legs, the gentle swell of her thighs, beautifully shaped, and the marvelous, erotic gap between them. He rose from the bed, naked, and moved towards this vision of adolescent loveliness, desire unfurling within him.

Wind howled. Snow battered against the window as the storm deepened.

She dreamed.

In her dream she stood in the doorway, nervous, unsure, looking at Daddy asleep in bed. She felt her love for him as she admired his handsome face, tempered by apprehension. She saw Daddy open his eyes and look at her, their unusual azure blue color so noticeable when surrounded by a mane of dark hair. She felt herself freeze in uncertainty, hesitating. Will he want me? she worried, then saw the love in his eyes. A tremor moved through her body as she contemplated what she was about to do, had planned for so long and, before she could lose her courage, her hands moved to the belt of her robe. She wondered how Daddy would react to her newly blossoming body as she fumbled with the knot until it finally opened, the ends falling aside. Would it excite him?

In her dream she felt coolness on her skin as she gently pulled the robe from her shoulders, and smiled, feeling unexpectedly shy. Hope blossomed inside as she heard Daddy gasp at the sight so carefully prepared for him, her best, sexiest lingerie, so revealing, so titillating. She wondered what Daddy thought of her, of the changes brought on so recently by the onset of puberty, of the changes she was so proud of, and was rewarded as she watched his blue eyes drink in her young body, a flutter of anticipation felt deep inside. She stood still waiting for a reaction, any reaction that would show her the way forward.

In her dream a shudder went through her when Daddy rose from the bed revealing his excitement, his interest, even his acceptance of her offer. She felt dampness begin in her loins as she stared with apprehension at this first sight of his erect penis and felt a tightening in her nipples as they gradually puckered, poking noticeably in her bra. She felt a heaviness in her lower body, a feeling of swelling as she responded to Daddy's evident arousal.

In his dream he saw her bashfulness melt as she stared at his erection. His desire built as he watched the nipples on her small, firm breasts announce themselves. He walked slowly towards this vision, this youthful beauty and, reaching out, took her small warm hand in his. His daughter looked up into his eyes and he felt the strength of his love morph into lust as he led her slowly to the side of his bed. He sat slowly on the edge of the bed as his daughter, still standing, reached behind to unclasp her training bra. His eyes drifted down from her perfect face to watch in wonderment as her bra fell to the floor, at first modestly hiding her new growth behind her hands before they too fell, revealing small breasts, so firm, so perky, topped by rosy red areolae and puckered little nipples. He groaned, his erection throbbing at this erotic adolescent display.

In his dream he watched with bated breath as her hands drifted down to the waist of her panties and hesitated, then groaned again as she slowly peeled one side down, then the other, an unconscious, seductive hip movement accompanying each move. His penis bobbed, throbbing in sexual need as her plump pubis was slowly uncovered, his attention riveted, at first on the sparse fine red pubic hairs dusting her mound and then, on the glory of her tight cleft curving so seductively down between her legs.

In his dream he looked into her eyes as he stood and moved towards her. His penis, damp with precum touched her stomach and slowly slid up towards her chest as he wrapped his daughter in his arms, so petite next to his six foot height.

In her dream she saw Daddy walk towards her. She felt heat flush through her as she watched his large erection wave in front of him. She felt him take her hand and, searching his eyes, saw love reciprocated. With a gentle tug, he led her towards the bed. She felt the dampness seep in the gusset of her panties and her labia slide against each other with every step, budding sexual excitement enhanced by nervous anticipation coursing through her body.

In her dream she saw Daddy sit on the side of the bed and look at her, expectation in his gaze. A nervous tremor ran through her, she knew what he wanted, what she wanted. With a deep breath she reached behind her, the action pushing her small breasts out, and unhooked it. She held her hands over her breasts as the bra fell to the floor, a lingering trace of modesty. Then, watching for his reaction, let her hands fall away exposing herself to him for the first time. Her nipples ached as she heard Daddy groan.

In her dream, her eyes dropped to Daddy's pulsing erection as she felt for the waist band of her panties. Apprehension tickled in her mind wondering what daddy would think about her almost hairless pussy. As she let the panties slide down her legs, her question was answered, he groaned again and she saw clear fluid appear from the tip of his penis, inducing another rush of moistness and a tingling, a hardening of her clitoris.

In her dream Daddy rose from the bed, moved towards her and wrapped her in his muscular arms, the familiar, comforting scent of daddy filling her nostrils. She felt his erection poke her in her stomach and an erotic thrill passed through her as she felt it slowly slid up leaving a moist trail in its path. She could feel its full length, firmness, and warmth; big, bigger than she had imagined.

In her dream she tilted her head to look up at him and almost swooned as Daddy looked into her eyes and bent his head, warm lips touching hers in a gentle kiss, a chaste kiss, a first kiss.

In his dream he looked down at his daughter and marveled at the sight and feel of her small firm breasts pressed into him, their nipples poking, and his penis throbbed. As she turned her head up to look at him, he couldn't resist her innocent beauty, her budding sexuality, the desire in her eyes. He leaned down to kiss her, thrilled at the touch of his daughters small, soft lips against his, a kiss so sweet it fuelled his love.

In his dream he felt her melt against him and, leaning down, he swept her off her feet into his arms, carrying her petite, light body to the bed, laying her gently on the sheets. As he settled next to her he felt her arms circle his neck, pulling his face towards hers. He looked into her eyes, shiny with love and more, desire? She smiled the sweetest smile, "it's okay" it suggested, and pulled him closer. He felt his lips touch hers again and groaned deeply as he felt her tongue taste him.

In his dream he hugged his daughter tightly, passion inflamed him and his lips parted, tongues touched, hesitantly feeling and exploring. Her moan excited him, erection throbbed, and he pushed his tongue into her mouth, tasting her youthful freshness. Pulling back he looked deeply into her eyes and asked "are you sure?"

In her dream she felt Daddy sweep her up and carry her to his bed, a feeling of comfort, familiarity and, yes, safety in his arms. She felt her body touch cool sheets as he lay her down in his bed, a twinge of apprehension rippling through her again. Was this really happening?

In her dream she watched her handsome daddy lay beside her on his side and she reached for him, wrapping her arms around his neck to pull him closer, smiling to show him she wanted this. She watched his face descend towards her and, as his lips touch hers, a thrill coursed through her. As love blossomed into desire she opened her mouth and let her tongue feel his lips, just like in the romance novels. Passion ignited deep inside as she felt Daddy respond, his lips part, and his tongue touched hers lightly, hesitantly. An involuntary moan escaped, the thought of Daddy kissing her like a grownup making her feel sexy, passionate.

In her dream she felt him push his hot, firm erection against her thigh and his tongue push into her mouth. She tasted him, her tongue playing a game of tag with his, and passion built, transforming into lust. Then suddenly the kiss stopped. She opened her eyes. What's wrong, she thought. Daddy was looking at her, a bright gleam in his eyes, and she heard him whisper "Are you sure?" Yes, she thought, oh yes. Then she smiled and softly, shyly, whispered "Yes."

In her dream she felt Daddy's hand move slowly up her stomach. She held her breath. He's going to touch my breasts, she thought and felt her small nipples pucker, harden even more at the anticipation. Will he like them? Are they too small? And then she knew as she felt his large hand gently cup her left breast, this thumb rubbing across her sensitive nipple and she heard him quietly groan, "Oh God." Pride swelled inside. Daddy likes, she thought, excitedly. She could feel growing passion make her braver, more confident, confident enough to slip her hand down her side reaching for the hardness pressed into her thigh. Her fingers felt the wet tip of his erection, then the flared head, and finally they slid gently along his thick shaft. Her body flushed in heat as her touch formed pictures in her mind and she realized she had caused this, she had made Daddy hard. As the thought passed through her mind she gently wrapped her fingers around him. Suddenly his lips came down hard on hers, his tongue pushing deeply into her, and she felt him gently squeeze and caress her aching breast. Her legs clamped together, pleasure blooming with the delicious pressure against her hard clitoris. She pushed her tongue into his mouth, squeezed his hot erection in her hand, and arched her back, pushing her small, breast into his hand. Yes, Daddy.

In his dream he watched a shy smile curl her small lips and his erection swelled when he heard his young daughter whisper "Yes." His hand crept up over her flat stomach feeling her soft, warm skin until he touched her pubescent breast for the first time, smaller now she was on her back. Excitement surged as he cupped it, small, very small, with a youthful firmness, resilient. As he let his thumb test the rigidity of her nipple he couldn't hold back. "Oh God," slipped out involuntarily as the sensations in the palm of his hand raced to his brain. Then, when he felt her fingers touch his straining erection, slip over the precum dampened head and slide down the rigid shaft to curl and hold him he bent down and kissed her, sudden passion driving his tongue deep into her smaller mouth. He caressed her young breast and rejoiced in her reaction as she arched her back pushing harder into his hand. He felt her tongue force itself past his, pushing into his mouth, probing, demanding, and almost came when she squeezed his penis.

In his dream he heard himself growl, passion inflamed. His hand left her breast to cup her face. Her tongue dueled with his, and slowly, slowly, he rolled on top of her. An erotic surge raced through him as he felt his daughter spread her legs, raise her knees and welcome him. He heard her breathe hard through her nose when his erection touched her pubis. Easing down, weight on his elbows, air rushed out of his lungs at the feel of her small breasts and hard little nipples touching his chest.

In her dream she heard Daddy make a strange noise, felt his hand leave her breast, cup her cheek, his tongue thrusting into her mouth. She felt his erection slip from her grasp. Is something wrong? she wondered. Suddenly, she felt him move slowly over her, his legs slip between hers, nudging. A surge of excitement washed through her as she spread her legs and felt Daddy slip between them, her thighs rising to nestle against his hips. Moisture oozed from her as his erection touched the top of her pussy, his hairy chest rubbing sensuously against her nipples. My Daddy.

In her dream she luxuriated at the feel of his weigh as he settled on her. Desire flared when his penis slipped down her cleft then pushed softly, hesitantly. She tore her mouth away from his kiss when she gasped; Daddy lowering his head to her neck and sliding his arms under her to hold her tight.

In his dream he felt her break their kiss, gasping. As he moved his mouth to her neck, her sweet scent, all young girl, filled his nostrils, and he slipped his hands under her shoulders to hold her closer. A shudder passed through him as he felt his penis slide down his daughters cleft, he couldn't help but press his erection against her; a primal urge.

In his dream he felt her hand slip between their bodies. His penis throbbed as he understood her intent. His arousal intensified unbelievably as her small hand wrapped around his straining erection, he groaned loudly as she moved the tip up and down, parting her, pulling it between her labia, mixing his moisture with hers. As she pushed the tip at her entrance he slid his hands down the sides of her slim body, over the gentle flare of her hips, and underneath to cup her firm, surprisingly cool youthful buttocks.

In her dream she felt her need building, wanting, needing to feel Daddy inside her, filling her for the first time. She slipped her hand down between their bodies and, reaching between her thighs, grasped his erection, Daddy's erection, throbbing and warm in her hand. A little fear flashed through her mind. It's so big, she thought, worried she might be too small. Arousal overcame fears and she dragged its soft tip down through her cleft, a delicious erotic thrill coursing through her as she felt it rub deliciously across her hard clitoris and slip between her lips.

In her dream she felt need blossom inside as Daddy's penis neared her opening, his loud groan adding to her excitement. He likes, she thought. She felt the desperate urge to have him inside her build as she swiped his erection up and down to spread slippery moisture through her cleft, until finally, finally the tip nestled against her virginity. He lay heavier on her, deliciously heavier, when his hands slid down her body and he cupped her buttocks. Inhaling deeply, feeling the restriction of his weight, she let his hard erection go, wrapping her arms around his broad chest, hugging him to her. He felt so big, so muscular on top of her. My Daddy.

In his dream his penis flared, thickened impossibly, with the sensation of her entrance against the tip. As she hugged him he nudged his rigid, urgent erection gently into her, worried about the pain she must endure. When no progress was made, he curled his wrists, his hands lifting her buttocks up, tilting her pelvis towards him. Fearful yet desperate with arousal, he pushed at her entrance, and felt the incredible sensation of his penis slide forward, her opening dilating reluctantly at his intrusion. This was it, he thought to himself as he pushed harder. His heart skipped a beat as he heard his daughter cry out, hugging him tighter at the moment his erection broke through her virginity and slipped into her. He paused, the bulbous head lodged inside, waiting for her pain to pass, panting with excitement, luxuriating in her tightness.

In his dream he was scared her pain had been too great, that he would have to withdraw, give up the erotic warm embrace of her vagina, but patience was rewarded when he felt her relax, move her hips slightly, encouraging him to continue. With a groan he pushed, gaining another tight inch, then withdrew ceding all he had gained. Using her buttocks to guide her, he drew her to him as he thrust again gently, feeling her respond as she curled her hips, rising to meet him. And then suddenly, she relaxed and his erection slid gloriously, deeply, into her warm, moist sheath; deeper and deeper in one smooth stroke until he felt her pubic mound press against his groin and the delicious sensation of his erection butting into the deepest part of her. Passion surged through him as he felt her tight grip along the length of his buried erection. So snug. So warm. So arousing.

In her dream she felt Daddy push, trying to gain entrance. She felt scared yet excited; finally it was going to happen, she thought, I'm going to make love with Daddy. A hint of disappointment drifted through her mind as she felt the pressure of his erection ease. But then, Daddy pushed her bottom up, tilting her towards him and she felt herself stretch, stretch and stretch more as his thick penis pushed at her. Pleasure turned to ache and suddenly, a cry burst from her as she felt a sharp stab of pain, virginity lost.

In her dream she hugged him tightly, scared that her cry of pain would deter him. She could feel him inside her, feel herself stretched around him, his penis feeling even bigger now. She felt tight, so tight she instinctively knew she had to relax, but it was hard. She hurt and wondered if she could take all of him, worried she couldn't. Then, as she felt Daddy pause, she knew he was waiting for her. Love swelled in her chest dulling the pain and she knew she wanted more, she wanted to be filled by him, she wanted to feel Daddy deep inside, all the way. She moved her hips, testing the sensation in her pussy, mindful of any returning pain. Daddy groaned. She felt his penis slide deeper, felt the walls inside parting, and a tingling of pleasure returned. When he pulled back and his hands pushed on her bottom she understood his signal, curling up to meet his thrust. God, Daddy.

In her dream sexual pleasure blazed within as she felt his erection slide effortlessly, painlessly into her until it touched her very depths. She suddenly felt so full, so complete. He felt huge, hard, hot and deeply satisfying inside her, this was what she had dreamed of. But, before she was ready, the pressure on her buttocks eased and she felt him withdraw, feeling emptiness replace fullness. Then again he pushed on her bottom and she felt his erection slide back in, deep, in one smooth stroke, teaching her the movements of love. His pelvis butted against her clitoris and stars exploded in her mind. She knew she had to have more, her hips taking over, setting the pace. Her hands slipped down to Daddy's waist to pull him urgently against her with every thrust. Pressure built inside her chest, need growing, need growing, until it burst, ecstasy exploding through her. She heard herself cry out as her orgasm strengthened with every deep penetrating thrust. Her heart raced and suddenly, deep inside, she felt Daddy spurt hotly into her, bathing her clenching vagina with his thick cum. Her orgasm crested, her vagina grasping his penis, desperately milking him with each exquisite blissful wave until blackness stole over her.

In his dream a heated flush of arousal washed over him as he felt his penis buried to the hilt in his little girl. His erection expanded feeling impossibly large, tightly grasped by her young pussy. He pulled out with exquisite slowness wanting to feel every inch of her, then pulling her to him, he thrust back into her. He was awed when he felt her move her hips, setting the pace, directing him. When he felt her hands slide down his back, hold his waist and pull him into her harder, deeper, he knew he was close, so close. He heard his daughter cry out, he felt her clamp down on his penis, impossibly tight, and it was too much. He realized his little girl was climaxing and, as he thrust into her as far as he could go, with a gut-wrenching throb, he felt his semen burst from him. With every thrust he ejaculated, hard, harder, cum shooting deep and forcefully into her, again and again, thrust upon thrust until, finally, inevitably, it ended. He collapsed over her, unaware she had passed out.

Outside the storm raged on, its fury building. Snow raced horizontally to the ground from gale-strength winds. Had anyone been foolish enough to be outside they would have seen bolts of lightning, but a strange lightning, lightning with a greenish hue and, oddly, no thunder.

In the small motel room she dreamed.

In her dream consciousness returned; the heaviness of Daddy on top of her, sweat collected between them. Her hands were resting on his waist and she could feel him between her spread legs, the comfortable bulk of his penis still inside her. A shiver passed through her as she remembered making love. Amazing, she thought. Experimentally she squeezed her vagina to test for soreness and was disappointed when she felt his penis slip out of her, warm semen, Daddy's semen she thought with a sexual thrill, gushed from her to drip between her buttocks. Daddy's weight felt good, comforting, yet she was pleased when she felt him stir and slip to her side. She wanted to clean herself.

In her dream she sat up, surprised she felt no trace of embarrassment at her nakedness, looked down at his face and smiled when she saw his deep blue eyes open. Leaning down, she kissed his cheek. "Stay, Daddy," she whispered.

In his dream he basked in post orgasmic euphoria, his mind full of images and sensations he had experienced. He was still mentally turned-on at the thought that he had had sex with his pubescent daughter. He felt her vagina squeeze him, expel him as she stirred. He slipped off to her side, mindful of his weight, his size next to her petite form. Opening his eyes he saw her in all her beauty smiling at him and he felt his heart swell with affection. She kissed him sweetly. "Stay, Daddy," she said and got out of bed, his eyes on her perfectly formed proud little breasts, so firm in appearance with rosy areolae and soft nipples; pubescence epitomized. He groaned silently as he watched her taut pear-shaped bottom, cheeks smoothly moving in counterpoint up and down as she walked to the bathroom. Incredibly he felt a stir inside, that familiar onset of arousal, surprising him, for he had never recovered that quickly before.

In his dream he recognized new feelings inside, excitement at the thought of illicit incest and even more, his new desire for his daughter's fresh, young, developing body. But she must be sore, he thought. First times were always painful yet clearly she had enjoyed making love. She was an active participant, he remembered, and she had surprised him with the speed and intensity of her orgasm; he had thought girls didn't achieve a climax the first time they had intercourse.

In her dream she washed herself in the shower and wondered how Daddy felt. She knew she was blissfully happy; it had been better than anything she had imagined and felt a little embarrassed when she realized she wanted to do it again. Would Daddy want to? She checked her pussy carefully but could feel no discomfort or soreness. Daddy must've been very gentle with her, she thought. She remembered how long she had waited for this, how much she had desired Daddy and her fear of rejection, her prepubescent body unappealing she thought. She had dreamed of him as she masturbated, diddling and rubbing her center of pleasure surreptitiously under her sheets at night, inducing intense climaxes. She remembered wanting to push her finger inside herself to feel what it might be like with Daddy, only her determination that he be her first holding her back.

In her dream she remembered the erotic thrill of wondering what Daddy's penis would look like, how big it would be, how it would feel in her hand. Could she circle it with her fingers or would it be too thick? As she dried herself she smiled. Now she knew. A knock on the door interrupted her thoughts.

In his dream feint whispers of doubt stole into his mind, memory playing tricks on him. Had he taken advantage? Had she been willing? Had he gone further than she wanted or intended? He thought not but needed to make sure, the concept of her being disappointed in him worrisome. Rising from the bed he knocked on the bathroom door driven both by a need to see his daughter, a need for reassurance, and by a full bladder. The door opened. He saw her, towel demurely wrapped around her body hiding it from sight. He saw her look at him with a shy, hesitant look on her beautiful face. Wet red hair, darker in dampness, fell straight over her shoulders. Love not desire flushed through him and he smiled, his smile reciprocated as she brushed by him. He emptied his bladder and cleaned himself wondering if she felt any regrets and hoping intensely that she didn't. His thoughts turned to her growing up, a delightfully bright, gregarious rake-thin beanpole of a child coming to mind. He remembered her awkward stage as hormones flooded her body, a growth spurt bringing comic clumsiness, and his clinical interest in her body as the first signs of puberty were announced with just a hint of swelling beneath the blouse.

In his dream he wondered why, when there had been no sexual feelings before, they were there now. What had changed? Pubescent girls had never attracted him but there was no denying the feelings it stirred inside him now as he pictured his daughter in all her naked glory. I wonder if she wants to do it again, he thought. As he walked out of the bathroom he saw her, laying on top of the sheets, not chastely under them, towel still wrapped around her and he felt himself thicken.

In her dream Daddy smiled at her as she left the bathroom and moved towards the bed. Should I get under the sheets, she wondered, keep the towel on, or go naked? She compromised, lay on top of the sheets and kept her towel wrapped around her. She felt nervous waiting for him to emerge. Then he came out, he saw her, he smiled, and all her questions were answered as she watched, fascinated, as his penis thickened, extended and rose up erect. It still looked so big she wondered how it had fit inside her and, with a sense of pride and a tingle of arousal, remembered she had taken it, all of it.

In her dream she stared, watching his erection swing side to side as he walked toward her. She felt her arousal rekindled and wondered what Daddy would do. Looking up into his smiling face she saw his hands reach out and felt him unwrap her towel. She felt no shame or embarrassment as her body was revealed to him but, as she watched his blue eyes inspect her nakedness and heard his breath catch, her arousal strengthened. She watched him sit on the bed next to her and bend over, his lips touching, then moving lower and enveloping her nipple. It responded, tightened in response and a deliciously erotic moistness returned to her pussy, a pulse of pleasure. A sexual thrill charged through her as she felt Daddy suck her breast, her hands rising to run though his thick, dark hair, pulling him closer, encouraging him. She heard herself moan when his tongue circled her nipple. Yes, Daddy.

In his dream he admired his daughter's small covered form on the bed, her beauty enhanced by a still innocent aura. He felt his penis inflating and, when he saw her staring at it, it rose into a full, hard erection. His hands trembled as he reached down to her towel, his breath catching in his throat as her excitingly pubescent body was revealed. He couldn't help himself as he sat next to her, bent over and kissed her small nipple and, as his lips surrounded it, he felt it harden and swell. Lust grew as he sucked on her breast and felt the nubbly surface of her areola with his tongue. His penis throbbed and bounced when his daughter moaned at his attentions. He kissed across her chest, hand replacing mouth, and tasted its twin.

In his dream he fondled her young perky breasts and looked into her eyes, seeing the fire of arousal. Her eyes closed and she moaned as he gently squeezed her nipples and, as he kissed her soft lips and lightly tugged on her nipples, his little girl opened her mouth and thrust her small tongue between his lips, seeking then finding his. Sexual heat suffused him as he kissed his daughter deeply, still amazed at her sexual appeal. He moved down and kissed her belly button, admiring the soft swell of her stomach below, the silky smoothness of her unblemished skin. He felt her hands in his hair.

In her dream she felt Daddy's lips move to her other nipple, felt him suck it between his lips and the rough texture of his tongue scrape across it. As he looked into her eyes she felt him caress her breasts, her pussy throbbing. Her eyes closed, lost in the delicious feelings coursing through her, moaning her excitement. Then Daddy kissed her. Lust burst inside when she felt him pull on her aching nipples, she thrust her tongue out seeking his, kissing him hard, harder than before. God how she loved him, she thought. Suddenly he broke the kiss. Disappointment grew as she wanted the kiss to go on longer, much longer. But when she felt Daddy kiss her belly button blood rushed to her loins and she felt her pussy swell, realizing where he was going. She used her hands to encourage him, guide him, pushing him down. When she felt him kiss her mound she spread her legs in invitation. Oh, Daddy.

In her dream, eyes closed, she felt Daddy move down to lay between her legs. Anticipation mounted waiting for his next move. A sharp pulse of arousal hit when she felt his mouth on her pussy and his tongue tease her sensitive clitoris. Wetness seeped out as he slid his tongue slowly down through her cleft, erotic tension building as his tongue probed into her and, as his finger teased her engorged clit and his tongue pushed into her, her climax exploded, her hips rose and her thighs tightened around his head. Stars burst behind her closed eyes as she humped against Daddy's mouth, her orgasm crashing over her.

In his dream he gazed in wonder at the small, straight red pubic hairs sparsely dusting her pubis. His erection throbbed as he saw her clitoral hood peeking out from her cleft. As the smell of her arousal filled his senses, musky and alluring, he felt his mouth water at the thought of tasting her, tasting his little girl. Moving closer he kissed her pudenda, sparse silky pubic hairs tickling his lips. He used his tongue to probe the hood hiding her clitoris and felt it emerge, harden. In mounting excitement, he slipped his tongue down through her cleft feeling its silky soft warmth, the aroma of her arousal intensifying as he neared her vagina, and then he felt it, a tiny opening against the tip of his tongue, moist and warm. He tasted her, girlish flavor and a trace of his semen. His thumb rubbed over her clit as his tongue probed into her and was taken by surprise when his daughter convulsed against him, her thighs close around his head and her hips jerk her pussy up hard against his mouth and nose, moisture against his tongue. He was filled with awe at the speed and intensity of her climax and kept probing, licking and rubbing until he felt her slow, her climax passing.

In his dream he crawled up the bed, his daughter prostrate, eyes closed, chest flushed red, heaving as she panted through her mouth. He lay next to her and, gathering her with his arm, turned her to nestle into his side. A few minutes passed, and while his erection strained at the memory of her climax he didn't move, the feel of her next to him so good; her chest rising and falling pushing her small breasts into his side, her body warm next to him, and her pubis pressed into his hip. He felt her move. Looking down he saw her turn her face up to him and a smile light up her eyes, her adoration showing. Her hand rubbed back and forth through his chest hair as he bent his head and kissed her lightly on her lips.

In her dream she felt herself floating, residual tremors of pleasure shaking her as she lay exhausted. She felt Daddy's arm slip under her shoulders and roll her towards him, his body so warm. Peacefulness settled over her as she breathed in his manly, daddy smell, and snuggled closer. That was amazing, she thought, her opinion that oral sex was somewhat dirty had been all wrong. But it was too fast she decided, wishing it had lasted longer, that she had lasted longer. A warm glow arose as she thought about how good Daddy had been to her and her heart ached with love for him.

In her dream she slowly tilted her head to look at him and saw he was looking at her. She smiled and let her hands play with the dark hair on his broad chest. Then he kissed her, his kiss so gentle, so loving she felt something stir in her. As she slowly moved her hand around, feeling the muscles in his chest and his flat stomach, an idea began to grow. She wondered if she dared. Her fingers touched one of his nipples and she rubbed it lightly, interested to see if a man's response was the same as hers. A tingle of excitement ran through her when she felt it harden. Rising onto her elbow she looked at Daddy and, as he opened his mouth to say something, she put a finger to his lips stopping him, smiling as she did. Leaning over him she tasted his nipple first with her lips, then with her tongue, feeling its texture. She moved her hand in gentle circles around his stomach and gasped when she felt the tip of his penis brush against it. A thrill went through her as she debated, should I? Could I?

In his dream he felt his daughter rise at his side just as her finger played with his nipple. It responded, hardening. He started to tell her how good it felt but she shushed him with a soft, sexy, shy smile and a small finger pressed to his lips. He watched as she bent her head and almost groaned aloud when she kissed his hardened nipple, his erection throbbing as he felt her tongue twirl, just as he had done to her, he realized.

In his dream his breath caught when he felt her hand brush the wet tip of his penis then explore it, erotically sliding over the helmet and down the shaft. Her light touch teased him deliciously, his erection throbbed, an involuntarily groan uttered as his little girl's fingers slowly wrap around the shaft. His hand rested lightly on her slim back, gliding up and down from neck to the swell of her sweet buttocks. She shifted, moved lower.

In her dream she explored the firmness and resilience of the head of his penis and as her fingers slipped down, tracing the shaft, she was amazed. It was so long. Did he get it all inside me? she wondered. She laid the palm of her hand along the shaft and felt a thrill of pride as it strained upwards. Slowly she grasped the shaft to measure its girth. Daddy groaned, he likes it, she thought. She couldn't believe how thick it was, her fingers not quite meeting. That was why I felt so full but, God, he must have stretched me, she realized. Excitement poured through her giving her courage, she moved down and kissed the bulbous tip. She felt his hips jerk when her tongue tasted him, surprised there was no flavor. A deliciously naughty thought stole through her, just like the women in romance novels, she thought and almost giggled as remembered how they "take his maleness in, tasting his desire." It's so big, how could they do that? she wondered.

In her dream, emboldened by Daddy's responses, and holding his shaft in one hand, she kissed him again then, slowly, let her lips part, let the rubbery tip slip between her lips, a feeling of wantonness growing as she opened her mouth wider and wider. And, just as she thought it was too big, she felt Daddy's helmet pop in, her lips slipped over the flared ridge to seal around the shaft, her mouth filled. She heard Daddy groan, "Oh God, Sweetheart," as she let her tongue explore this new sensation, this intruder. Now what, she wondered. What am I supposed to do? Romance novels had been a little short on details. She remembered her girlfriends talk about "sucking them off," so she sucked, tentatively, bobbing her head. Suddenly, she felt Daddy's penis throb and harden in her hand and, unbelievably, grow bigger, stretching her mouth even more. Before she could think a thick, hot liquid blasted into her mouth. A sexual thrill race through her as she realized it was Daddy's sperm, Daddy was cumming! Her thighs clenching at the thought, she squeezed him. He expanded again and another blast erupted into her mouth, then a third. Her cheeks puffed out as her mouth tried to contain his spurts, but the next blast proved too much, semen exploded past her lips and over her fist clutching his throbbing shaft. Another huge load of hot semen blasted into her mouth, her cheeks expanded again and cum exploded out between her lips. She started to feel scared as Daddy's penis spurted into her mouth time and again, her hand soaked from the semen exploding from her small mouth and, just as she decided to pull off of him, she felt him slow down, stop, and soften.

In his dream a surge of excitement hit him as he felt his daughter's lips touch his erection, he heard her kiss it. Unbelievable, he thought and, when her hot tongue swiped across the tip, his hips jerked spasmodically. His fevered mind wondered if she'd really take him into her mouth, wanted her to take him into her mouth, and wondered what it might feel like, look like, sexual tension thrumming through him at the idea. God, I'm close, he thought. Then he felt her lips slip down over the flared head with exquisite slowness. His hand squeezed her small buttock as he felt her lips edge down, encompassing more and more of the head. "Oh God, Sweetheart," escaped from him when he felt a physical pop, his little girl's lips on his shaft and the encompassing warmth of her mouth surrounding its head.

In his dream he desperately tried to hold back an incipient climax. He squeezed his eyes shut, his imagination enhancing what he was feeling with visual pictures, pictures of her small mouth spread wide, red lips stretched around him. He fought the demanding need to climax and decided he had to pull out, not knowing how she'd react if he came. But, right at that moment, he felt his daughter suck, and he lost it. His penis throbbed, expanded, and sperm rushed uncontrollably up his shaft to spurt into her. Oh my God, I'm cumming in my daughter's mouth, he thought, making his second spurt even more intense. He felt dizziness overcome him as he shot again and then again. His hips jerked as an intense orgasm wracked his body, hot semen ran down the shaft as his stomach clenched with the strain of his ejaculations until, finally, his orgasm passed. He felt himself drifting, thoroughly satisfied, absolutely stunned. Just before drifting into a sexually satiated sleep, he felt his daughter snuggle up to his side and pull the bedclothes over him.

Outside the room, the storm passed. Lightning faded, static electricity drained from the air, and the wind quieted. Snow fell in light fluffy flakes, tapering off as morning neared. Inside the motel, two guests slept peacefully and deeply, cuddled together.

As the sun peeked over the horizon on a cold but clear new day, he slowly awoke feeling his daughter cuddled to his side. He felt remarkably relaxed and refreshed. He saw brightness between the closed curtains and realized it was morning. As he moved to get out of bed he became aware of an uncomfortable sensation. Reaching below the sheet he felt a stiff dried crust in his underwear and, further down, cold dampness. He instantly recognized the remnants of a wet dream and was surprised; it had been years since that had happened.

Embarrassed, he moved quickly to the bathroom, grabbing fresh clothes on the way. He tried to remember what he'd dreamed about, what had been so erotic it had caused him to ejaculate in his sleep, but nothing but warm indeterminate feelings came to him.

She woke with the movement of her father. Laying in bed, she remembered she was in a motel and the snow storm that had brought them there. As awareness fully returned she felt dampness. Her hand slipped down to her crotch, the gusset of her panties completely soaked. On feeling it, memories returned, memories of her dream, of her, of Daddy. She felt a familiar feeling stir inside then die as she realized Daddy had been in the same bed. Had he noticed? Embarrassment bloomed as she thought about what he might have seen or heard during the night.

Her father came out of the bathroom, blissfully unaware of his daughter's discomfort. Fully dressed, he moved to the window to look outside. Sun shone, skies were clear, and snowplows had been at work.

"Up you get, Amanda," he said. "We have to hit the road."

She scurried to the bathroom, grasping clothes as she went, the bathroom door closing before he turned. Fully washed and dressed, she packed, surreptitiously looking at Dad out of the corners of her eyes to see how he behaved. Relief eased her worries, he seemed perfectly normal; he couldn't have seen or heard anything.

Unusually for them, they hardly talked. Yet he didn't notice. Every time he looked at his daughter she seemed different in some indefinable way. He was puzzled, preoccupied as he tried to understand what had changed.

On the road, she had trouble sitting still as memories of her dream played through her mind. She couldn't believe how real it had seemed, how perfect, the incredible details and sensations she had experienced that were far beyond any of her previous fantasies. She felt her body responding to the memories, a tightness in her nipples and moistness in her panties. It thrilled her and she wished she could have the dream again.

He drove automatically, lost in his quest to understand or at least identify what had changed. He still felt deep love for Amanda and still felt fiercely protective of her. But something niggled at his mind, something he worried and probed at like a sore tooth, trying to make it come to light. Yet the more he tried, the fainter it became. Like all these things, it was while he was planning their stop for gas and lunch that it hit him. But, before the thought could bloom into comprehension, he heard Amanda speak.

"Dad?"

He turned to look at his thirteen year old daughter and was astonished to see her cheeks red as she blushed profusely.

"Can we stay at that motel again? Just you and me, like last night?" she asked shyly.

Chapter Two: Sweet Agony

Sara puttered around the kitchen, Sunday mornings the traditional time for her to clean cupboards, which she did on a rotating basis, disposing of outdated foods. She thought about Sean and Amanda.

She was relieved when Sean had called her on his cell last night to let her know he and Amanda were taking refuge from the sudden, surprisingly strong snow storm, and had agreed it was the safest thing to do, rather than trying to fight their way home.

She smiled to herself as she wondered how he had gotten on with their daughter, his first time taking her to a meet. She could picture him, Amanda, a force of nature, feisty and gregarious, directing him, telling him what to do, where to go, and probably how to behave and what to say in front of her team mates. No doubt Sean, an even-keeled, un-ruffable, and occasionally clueless father probably felt he was in a storm long before the real one hit. She knew Amanda would be excited with her second place in the 100 freestyle and first in the 4x4 relay. She had been bubbling on the phone yesterday afternoon when she called with her exciting news.

As Sara sipped her morning coffee, the clutter spread on the counter around her, jars, spices, and other unidentifiable ingredients, their labels having fallen off, and thinking of Sean and Amanda, she marveled again at her good fortune. She felt warm, comforting love suffuse her as she thought about her husband. Sean had turned out to be such a surprise; youthful passion, playfulness and the excitement of marriage and a future imagined together had evolved with the addition of friendship, deep respect, and true enjoyment of each other. After eighteen years of marriage and two children their relationship was as passionate as it was in the beginning yet more satisfying, maturity and honesty introducing a mutual guiltless freedom to explore, to test and discover new ways to titillate each other. He was such a rock, calm, steady and reliable, a perfect foil to her more impetuous personality, her Irish temper, quick to flare and quick to die out, only singeing not burning those around her.

Yes, I am happy, she thought, as she returned to clean up the clutter she had made emptying the cupboard.

Thumping of heavy feet on stairs announced the imminent arrival of Andrew, Andy, as he preferred to be called.

"Morning, Mom," he said in a voice cracking from puberty. Peering into the fridge, he spotted the orange juice and promptly started drinking it right from the carton, the fridge door ajar.

Sara couldn't help the feeling of pride as she watched Andrew drinking straight from the carton, something she had admonished him about frequently. He was maturing into a handsome image of his father, and at only fourteen he was already five feet eight and slim. Muscles were beginning to give him shape and definition and he had his father's coloring, dark, almost black hair still messed from sleeping, and blue eyes, though Andrew's were lighter than his fathers, a sky blue.

"Andy, stop drinking from the carton. Get a glass and, for goodness sake, close the fridge door," she instructed in a mock stern voice.

Andy gave her a cheeky grin before replacing the carton in the fridge, pulling out the milk and heading for cereal. As he sat at the table he watched his mother start to restock the cupboard. Typical Mom, he thought, always busy with something, a seemingly endless supply of energy. Like all teenage boys, hormones flooded his body in a race to push past puberty into maturity. He watched his mother with admiring eyes, his love for her clouded by inquisitiveness, seeing beyond her status in his life as nurturer to the female beneath, disassociating function from form. He enjoyed the subtle movement of her rear, tight jeans highlighting the soft curves of her hips and her pear-shaped, trim butt as she reached into the cupboard, her petite body, and thick red hair cascading halfway down her slim back. He daydreamed, what would her ass would look like in panties, or without panties? An erection formed as he wondered if she had a red bush, the thought not new and the result always the same.

Quickly he finished his cereal and, with her back to him, beat a hasty retreat, his goal the bathroom. He had an urgent need to take care of.

"Gonna shower, Mom."

Sara smiled to herself at Andy's hasty retreat. She wasn't stupid. She had seen him staring at her bottom out of the corner of her eyes as though in a trance, a spoon paused in front of an open mouth the give-away. It would have been flattering if she didn't know that puberty made keyholes, or warm winds, lawn mowers, sports cars, or any number of other weird things, give them erections. She had seen the stained evidence of night time emissions when puberty had hit him and knew of his inquisitiveness in the female body from a soft-core magazine he kept so carefully hidden. She was sure any female in proximity would trigger his imagination, regardless of whether it was his mother, sister, or the next door neighbor, so she took it all in her stride.

Amanda on the other hand, worried her. Sara remembered going through puberty herself, the dreams of romance, her crushes, imagining her white knight sweeping her off her feet, of her surprise when she rubbed the newly felt soreness in her chest to discover unexpected thrills. She remembered exploring new sensations, a sensitivity in her small nipples, the firmness beneath of budding breasts, her radiant joy at the discovery of a special spot between her legs, of the warm satisfaction of her first orgasms, and of wondering what boys looked like "down there," her father the first object of her desire being the nearest male. Her first sight of a penis was her fathers, glimpsed when he showered and, to this day, she could feel the salacious thrill it caused. She had been ten.

Having experienced it, she knew what to look for and, despite reassurances to Sean, had worried that, at twelve, Amanda had not shown any signs of puberty. Her friends had calmed her with their knowledge and differing experiences, nevertheless she had worried. As Amanda finally started changing when she hit mid-twelve, Sara hadn't see the expected signs, whitish stains in panties or wadded toilet paper in the gusset to absorb the evidence of developing sexual feelings. In every other respect Amanda was perfectly normal.

Sara was quite liberal when it came to sexuality, believing healthy sexual development had nothing to do with promiscuity; liking orgasms didn't make one a slut. On the contrary, masturbation, exploration, first dates, first kisses, and furtive touching were all part of growing up to be sexually confident. Her line in the sand was physical sex, oral or otherwise. It shouldn't happen until the right time, with informed consent, to be cherished not dealt out.

With a sigh, she realized she would have to have a chat with Amanda. Her period would start soon, its delay another sign of late puberty, she thought.

The road stretched endlessly ahead, empty, a two lane road with snow piled high on either side, a forest of dark tree trunks on the left and vast arable fields on the right hidden from view, black tarmac and repetitive white stripes providing a hypnotic distraction.

Before Sean could respond to his daughter's question about returning to the motel some day, the thought that had hovered indistinctly at the edge of his mind coalesced. Clarity arrived and with it, shock, disturbing enough he almost drove off the road. It wasn't Amanda that had changed, he could see, it was him. I've been admiring those new subtle bumps and curves of her body; those first unmistakable signs of puberty. Why? Where did this come from? Was this an attraction or something else?

He glanced sideways at his daughter. Amanda was petite, had always been slight of body, taking after her mother, Sara, who stood a full five feet two inches tall. That combined with a busy schedule of after school activities, ballet, athletics, and more, had kept Amanda's body lithe, and at just under five feet she still weighed no more than an eleven year old, about eighty pounds he guessed. He remembered the conversation he'd had with Sara only last year about Amanda's apparent lack of development.

"Sean, you know nothing about puberty in girls. There's nothing wrong with Amanda. Some girls start to develop at eight and some at fourteen. She'll get there. Don't worry."

So he hadn't. But now he felt a little discomfort as he recognized he had been inadvertently "appreciating" how good she looked; how provocative and alluring her puberty was. How did this happen? he wondered and he felt slightly ashamed by it.

Amanda sat in the passenger seat looking at her dad. She wondered what was wrong with him when he didn`t answer her and suddenly went pale, the car swerving on the road. What did I say? Did something happen? Is he sick? Oh, no! Did he remember something from last night?

"Dad, Dad, are you okay?"

"Yeah, I'm okay."

After a pause, waiting for the car to straighten, she continued. "You didn't answer me."

"What's that? Answer what?" he asked somewhat confused. Turning to her he noted her blush had faded. What had brought it on? he wondered and then watched as it returned.

"I asked if we could stay at that motel again, someday."

"Amanda, why in the world would you want to stay there again? It was a bit ratty." Honestly, where did she get that idea?

Her blush deepened, she could feel it and it only made her more embarrassed, but she was determined to pursue it now she had started.

"I had the best sleep I've ever had, Dad. Didn't you?"

He thought about it and realized she was right, it was a restful sleep and this morning he had woken remarkably refreshed, as if he had been on a relaxing vacation. But, why was she blushing?

"I guess I did have a good sleep, now you mention it."

"See. So can we?"

"Honey, you don't have another meet for months and the only reason we stopped was because of the snow storm. I doubt it will happen again." He saw her face close down as he said it. What the hell did I say now?

Amanda knew he was right, and besides that, Mom would never agree to her going to a motel with Dad. There simply wasn't a good reason for it. A funk settled over her, annoyed that fate had given then taken. She wanted a repeat, to relive her dream. For a moment she brightened. Maybe it was because I slept in the same bed as Dad, she thought. Oh, right, Amanda. And just how will you do that again?

Sean was once again blissfully ignorant of Amanda brooding. Having thought about his apparent appreciation of Amanda's budding womanhood, he decided it was entirely natural, brought on by fatherly pride and the fact that he had worried about her development. Yes, entirely natural, he thought. With that resolved, he felt better.

It was three hours before they pulled into the drive of their two story mock Tudor home, the journey broken occasionally by short desultory conversations. They had stopped once for gas and he had acceded to Amanda's desire for food, eating at the attached fast food outlet despite his distaste for the nutritional wasteland it represented to him, so it was one-thirty in the afternoon when he pulled his almost antique '93 Acura Vigor up beside Sara's newer red Explorer.

"Honey, we're home," Sean yelled as he and Amanda walked in, bags in hand.

Sara appeared from the kitchen with a welcoming smile on her face. The sight of her, barefoot, dressed in jeans and a t-shirt, her preferred wardrobe, with a riot of wavy red curls framing her lightly freckled face and tumbling over her shoulders to the middle of her back made his heart flutter. Even after eighteen years of marriage and two kids, she still got to him.

Sara, ignoring Sean, hugged Amanda. "How'd it go?" she asked. "With the storm," she added.

"Okay."

"Okay?" Sean said. "It was incredible. For a while there I worried we'd never find a place and end up spending the night in the car."

"Where did you stay?"

"Some rinky-dink motel on Route 7," Sean replied.

"I'm just glad you're okay," Sara said to Amanda, smiling, running her fingers through her daughter's hair in a familiar, motherly gesture.

"Thanks, Mom," was all Amanda said as she disengaged from the hug and headed up the stairs with her bag.

Sara watched her and turned to Sean. "What did you do to her?"

"Me? I didn't do anything!"

Amanda heard Dad as she climbed the stairs, their conversation fading as they headed towards the kitchen. Indeed, she thought, you didn't.

That night dinner conversation was mostly about the snow storm. Not surprisingly, no mention was made that Sean and Amanda had shared a bed, Sean not mentioning it because he really hadn't seen it as significant, Amanda not saying anything about it as she was afraid she'd blush.

As everyone went to bed, everything appeared normal in the family, but that would prove an illusion. A seismic shift had occurred and only time would tell how significant it might be.

That night, Sara, feeling frisky, left her panties off as she slipped into her long, faded and well used t-shirt. Sean had been gone only one night but his absence had left a hole, a hole that seemed to grow into a chasm when she woke suddenly, about 2:00 in the morning, the chasm feeling like a darkness inside her, something missing or maybe lost. She needed to feel close again, erase that still lingering feeling.

Sean was tired from the drive, but even though it may have made him slow, he wasn't stupid. As an ass lover he knew every curve and swell of Sara's beautiful bottom so he knew, as he watched her move about in the bedroom, lean over to pull the bed covers back and slip in, that she wasn't wearing any panties. He felt himself respond at the sight of her still firm butt. His penis thickened as he thought about his wife's gorgeous red pubic bush that he loved so much, and his erection rose as he envisioned what was to come.

Sara watched Sean disrobe knowing full well that he'd noticed she was panty-less and what it would do to him. Their sex life, as their marriage, was an open and honest one, each understanding those little things that thrilled the other and not shy to use, even flaunt them. She watched her husband drop his final piece of clothing, his underwear, facing away from her then, turning slowly she saw his thick erection and felt her body respond, nipples tightening and a heaviness build in her loins, a precursor to moistness. Her eyes drifted up his body, still slim and muscular, admiring his flat stomach, thrilled at the light body hair she knew was soft, and finally looked into his face to see him grinning impishly at her. He flexed his penis making it nod up and down. She laughed. They knew each other so well.

Sean slipped into the bed, moved next to his wife and, on his side, leaned over her and kissed her. It started as love not passion. But it didn't take long for passion stir, only as long as it took to feel her hand slowly wrap around his erection.

Sara kissed him, a sweet kiss, but she was impatient. She urged his desire on by grasping his erection, so familiar and solid in her hand, squeezing it slowly, her thumb rubbing lightly across the pee hole, waiting, waiting, the sign sure to come. His kiss deepened into passion and then she was rewarded, an erotic thrill pulsing through, dampness flowed as her ministrations successfully drew out the first of his precum, warm, slippery against her thumb. God, I love it when he gets wet, she thought.

"Hurry," she moaned pulling him onto her petite body, her thighs opening, welcoming him home. She led him with her hand, no preliminaries, no time, too hungry.

"Hurry," she moaned. Then, "Oh God, Sean, so good," as he thrust into her, sinking fully, pubic hair pressed together.

They made love quietly, without fanfare, without twists, experimentation, or teasing; simple pure, familiar love that bonded and strengthened their relationship, he spurting into her when her vagina clamped down, deliciously tight, signaling her climax. Still nude, they cuddled like spoons, satiated, and drifted to sleep.

In another room, Amanda lay in bed, her eyes closed tightly in concentration, one hand resting inside her panties, between her thighs, cupping herself, the other on her small breast under her night shirt, lightly squeezing her nipple. In her mind's eye she replayed last nights' dream, moment by moment, her hands trying to enhance her memory. But something was wrong, the details were still strong but the sensations, the feelings, the little things that made it so real to her were gone. Frustration built the harder she tried until, finally, her hands stilled and tears spilled mourning the loss of heaven.

Later, much later, Sean dreamed.

In his dream he saw a perfect pussy, close. He admired the light dusting of straight red pubic hairs on a prominent mons. His erection strained as he inspected the beauty of a tightly closed cleft, plump labia with so few pubic hairs you could count them, and he was tempted. But the aroma of girl, little girl, young girl, tickled his senses and an urge to kiss, to lick, to taste blossomed inside. Who is she?

In his dream his penis throbbed and wept in wanting. He watched raptly as legs parted, exquisitely slowly, as labia clung desperately together, united, resisting against the inevitable laws of physics. His breath hissed as labia started to part like a blooming jasmine, first at the top, her clitoral hood peeking out, firm, darker. His erection bounced with pounding blood as her outer lips peeled further apart revealing immature, still developing inner labia and moisture glistening. Finally, finally, her vagina, impossibly small, a dark shadow, came into view, her entire pussy now laid out, open for him, only him, and he came, explosively, suddenly, semen spurting, painfully surging out uncontrollably.

Sara woke suddenly with the feel of her husband's warm semen spreading between her buttocks, his penis nestled between them, throbbing as he ejaculated load after load of cum onto her. At first surprised, she smiled as she realized her husband was having a wet dream and wondered what it was. Just to tease him she squeezed her buttocks together around his pulsing erection. This was a first, she thought, although she had felt him cum like this at the end of her last pregnancy when intercourse had been inadvisable, she had never known him to have a wet dream. Sweet, she thought as she reached for a towel to wipe it up before drifting back to sleep, wondering if she should mention it to him tomorrow.

Monday was hectic as usual, but some things were different.

Amanda woke in a bad mood. She was upset, angry that her dream was stolen from her to be replaced by a more clinical, impersonal memory, lacking in love, in tenderness, in feeling. She was distracted in class, preoccupied, applying her above average intelligence to her problem, seeking a solution. She knew she wanted those feelings, those sensations back desperately but as yet, couldn't see the path.

Andrew woke with an erection, not surprisingly, and raced to the shower. Eyes closed, he stroked himself, warm water coursing over him, thinking of Jenny, that blond with big boobs in his math class, wondering what they'd feel like. Would they be firm, ride high or would they sag slightly? He imagined her pussy. Was she a natural blonde? Did she shave it, shape it, or have a bush? He tried to imagine it three ways, imagined her accommodating him by teasingly pulling the front or her panties out, coyly whispering "go ahead, have a look." He imagined himself fondling her ass, warm, firm, mmm good. And, just as he climaxed, he thought of his mother's ass and his orgasm intensified, cum shooting against the tiled wall.

Sean was on his way to work rested and refreshed. But there was a disquieting feeling lurking within, out of reach but there. He ran through recent events trying to isolate the source of his disquiet but nothing came to mind. Oh well, he thought, it'll come eventually.

After the morning rush, Sara relaxed with a fresh cup of coffee, enjoying her peace and solitude. A smile broke out as she remembered Sean and his wet dream, the feeling of him spurting between her buttocks. Sort of erotic, she decided. But, invariably, she wondered what he was dreaming of, hoping it was of her and, once the spark of curiosity was ignited, she couldn't let it go. It followed her throughout the day, through chores, shopping and on through cooking as it teased, itching, demanding her attention.

As school ended, Amanda raced home, avoiding friends and skipping volleyball practice, a first for her. Back in her room she lay on her bed thinking hard. She desperately wanted Daddy's affection, the kind she experienced in her dream. She wanted to feel his touch, she wanted his love to become lust, to do things to her, to make her gasp and churn and thrust.

Joyously, she felt herself get wet at the thought. Her hand unsnapped her jeans, slipped under the waist and into her panties to stroke herself. She imagined dancing with him, close, body to body. She imagined feeling his love, hard against her stomach, his hold tightening, his azure eyes looking down into hers, whispering, "Do you ...."

"AMANDA!" her mother yelled from downstairs, rudely shocking her out of her daydream just when she was close, so close.

"What?" she yelled, her heightened sexual state and frustration adding force to her yell.

"I need some help, please."

Damn, damn, she muttered pulling her hand out of her pants. She made a brief stop at the bathroom to wash her hands, remove the evidence of her masturbation, before heading downstairs.

That evening Sean and Andrew lazed in the den chatting about football, it was the ladies night to cook which meant food would be good and they were both looking forward to it, if the aroma spreading through the house was anything to go by.

All seemed serene in the household, but it wasn't. Subtle things, small things hinted at change, things only the very observant would notice. Things like Amanda watching Daddy surreptitiously, still excited from her interrupted daydream, watching his effortless movements, the way he smiled, laughed, the sparkle in his eyes, yearning for him. Things like Andrew, distracted, thinking of this morning in the shower, comparing his mom's ass with Jenny's, and trying to hide his erection at the thought of seeing his mom's ass naked.

But it was later, kids in bed, Sean and Sara in the den watching TV when the real change occurred.

"So, Honey," Sara casually said, "What were you dreaming of last night?"

"I didn't dream at all."

"Sure you did and it must have been good. You came all over my butt last night, a real honest-to-goodness wet dream." Sara was amazed when Sean's eyes opened wide then, after a pause, he turned bright red. My God, he's blushing, she realized, a very, very rare occurrence. This must be good.

"Do tell."

Sean was thunderstruck. He hadn't remembered any dream at first but when Sara told him he ejaculated in his sleep, his dream came thundering back; the pubescent pussy with a light dusting of red pubic hair, the tight cleft. He knew! He knew who it was he was dreaming of, he knew it was Amanda! Then, as he remembered the desire, how he wanted her, how it inflamed him, his erection returned. Embarrassment poured though him as he realized the sexual appeal of a pubescent pussy, his daughter's pussy, and it hit him that yesterday, in the car and before, that morning at the motel, he really had been ogling her developing body.

Oh, no! What do I tell Sara? She'd kill me if she knew. He worried and, for the first time in his marriage he lied to her on something major. Sticking as close to the truth as possible. Still blushing he told his wife, "Um, I think I was dreaming of eating you out."

"That's nothing new." Sara smiled, encouragingly. "But there must have been something extraordinary or different."

Thinking fast, Sean told her that, in his dream she squirted as she climaxed, right into his face.

Sara thought about that. It certainly explained her husband's blush, given that squirting was one of those things that she had never experienced. Sure, she was aware of the phenomenon, not particularly averse to it and, in fact, thought it might be an interesting new experience.

"Hmm. Perhaps we should try that," she suggested, eyebrows moving playfully, completely sold on Sean's story.

That night they did indeed experiment, unsuccessfully as it turns out. As Sean ate out Sara's sexy, moist pussy, seeking her G spot with his finger, sucking on her clitoris, inducing a crashing climax, all he could think about was how Amanda's pussy might compare, how different it might feel with sparse pubic hair or how different youth might taste, was there any difference in sensitivity, texture, color? How small would it be? And, when Sara treated him to oral sex, it was with thoughts of Amanda and how a blow job from a young girl, a small mouth, might feel that brought on his climax, thrusting and ejaculating wildly into his wife's mouth.

As they cuddled, Sean couldn't get the thought of Amanda's pussy out of his mind. While he still had no recollection of his dream at the motel, the dream he was aware of, the dream from last night, fuelled his imagination, burnt bright inside and roused his curiosity. As he fell asleep, he was thinking about how he might actually get to see his daughter's pubis, would it be like he imagined. How exciting!

Tuesday morning was the usual hectic chaos that any household with kids is intimately familiar with. The dynamics were different, though.

Sean watched Amanda, studying her with new eyes, the subtle hint of growing breasts adding teasing bumps under her shirt, the shape of her bottom so tightly clad in jeans, the seductive movement of her buttocks, her slim hips, tight full crotch. He looked at her face with new eyes, the glossy red hair pulled back into a ponytail that fell halfway down her back. He admired her beauty, Roman nose, freckles, sparkling green eyes, and small red lips. A pleasant tingle went through him as he thought of her innocence and her purity. His penis thickened when he gave her a hug before leaving for work, her scent lingering in his nose and the feel of her small body etched in his mind.

Amanda, oblivious to Daddy's attention, planned. She had decided she needed information, information on seduction, how to attract a man, how to develop their interest, even titillate them. She determined she'd ask her closest friends, some of whom were supposedly "experienced," for advice. She was excited having chosen a course of action, excited about her plan. Would it work? Would he respond?

Sara rushed about making sure everyone was taken care of, her motherly instincts keeping her family's nutritional consumption on the straight and narrow, pulling a box of Froot Loops out of Andrew's grasp and plunking Mini-Wheats down in front of him, his scowl telling her what he thought of them. The memory of sex with Sean last night played through her mind, the intensity of her orgasm, wondering if she'd ever experience squirting in climax, and marveling at how much semen Sean had ejaculated, more than she ever remembered with just a little pride.

Andrew sat eating breakfast wondering if he'd have time to make a trip to the bathroom, to relieve his erection brought on by yet again watching his mom's buttocks, so perfectly outlined in her soft cotton sweat pants, moving seductively up and down. He was absorbed in trying to figure out if she was wearing panties, the though stimulating an already urgent need for release.

"What do you mean? You get a boy interested by ignoring him," Robin advised.

"No, no, no," Mary cut in, "you punch him in the arm."

"Gawd, you two know nothing," Janice stated with authority. "You go up to him and start talking to him, open your eyes real wide and pretend he's the most amazing person ever," then added almost as an afterthought, "Stick your chest out to make your boobs look big. That always works."

Amanda quickly realized that, while her friends had good intentions, they all sounded dumb. Really, she thought, when would striking someone ever work as a come-on? And standing with your eyes wide and chest thrust out was comical. I'll have to do my own research, she decided.

Sean was preoccupied all day. One would imagine, as an architect, he'd be capable of multi-tasking, breaking problems down into manageable chunks and dealing with them. But today he was useless and his co-workers noticed. He was horny all day regardless of whether he had an erection or not. His mind was filled with ideas, each adding to his heightened state. When he imagined seeing Amanda in her girlish training bra and panties he had to go to the washroom to masturbate such was the strength of his vision. But even that failed to relieve his increasingly all consuming desire, his growing ache inside.

It was sitting in front of the drafting board, not working, that the concept of voyeurism first came to mind. Brilliant, he thought, a perfect way to see her without hurting anyone. As an architect, he was cognizant of building security systems, including surveillance. The company had an in-house expert, so he called Derek in and quizzed him on equipment, technology, retrofitting issues, and anything else he could think of, under the guise of a favor to a friend. He was excited about his plan, too excited to wait, so that evening before heading home, he went shopping, knowing he'd still have to wait until the weekend before he could install anything, plenty of time to plan and read manuals. But fate intervened. The crucial pinhole camera the whole plan rested on was out of stock. Frustration set in when he was told it would be two weeks before new stock arrived.

That afternoon Amanda sat at her computer researching, devouring information. She researched incest first as she knew that was what she was dreaming of. But the stories didn't tell her how to, only what happened. She found better information when she concentrated on seduction, one particularly good reference outlining the seven steps to seduce a man.

1. Promise your target whatever it is he is missing. That's a tough one she thought. Mom and Dad seemed to be really happy together. I have no idea what Dad's missing.
2. Make him feel appreciated. Hmm, she could certainly do that, she thought.
3. Let him help you. No problem, homework!
4. Be yourself. OK.
5. Flirt. Now here she could do something, perhaps how she dressed, even innocent peeks. Hmm, she'd have to be careful though, feel her way.
6. Play hard to get. Nah, that's exactly what she didn't want.
7. Touch him subtly. Interesting. Have to give that some thought.

She determinedly set about planning.

Later that night Sara was left unsatisfied when Sean climaxed too quickly, not knowing it was the result of the heightened arousal he had felt all day. Sean was disappointed, it hadn't been as good as usual and he felt guilt at Sara not achieving an orgasm. "Sorry," he had said.

"It's okay, Honey," she had reassured. Together, both disappointed, they slept.

That night the family dreamed.

Andrew dreamed. In his dream, as he walked into the kitchen for breakfast, he paused in the doorway. He saw his mom at the counter, framed by the picture window as she leaned over the sink, hair pulled into a ponytail, band at the neck, a mass of red waves falling over her white t-shirt. He felt his penis stir as he admired her ass, soft cotton sweats outlining her slim hips. His penis grew, extended, pushing out his pajama bottoms and rose to a full erection as he admired the sexy way the cotton conformed to her buttocks, pear-shaped, perfect, and draped between them hinting at her crack, seductively suggesting a lack of panties.

In his dream he walked up behind her, hugged her, arms around her waist. She tensed. "Morning, Mom," he whispered. She turned her head, smiled, her body relaxing, a twinkle in her green eyes. He watched her eyes open wider, surprise showing when he hugged her tighter, pressing against her, erection finding and nestling into the crease formed by her firm buttocks. He smiled. He waited, her aroma motherly, perhaps more, but comforting and exciting none the less. He waited. Then he felt it, a subtle tension, testing, assessing; her buttocks clenched slowly, lightly, her eyes losing focus, feeling.

In his dream she turned her face back to the sink, looking down, her buttocks pushing back against his now throbbing erection. His left hand moved up from her waist, past her diaphragm, until he felt the heaviness of her breast against his index finger. He waited, waiting for her, waiting for direction, and was rewarded. Her buttocks squeezed him tightly, he felt her tremble, he moaned as he buried his nose in her hair, inhaling deeply. His left hand rose higher, cupping, measuring her size, heft, a perfect fit in his palm.

In his dream his hand closed around his mother's breast, fondling. She groaned and he felt the hardness of her nipple poking, asking for attention. Her buttocks squeezed. He released her breast, using his palm to tease her hard nipple, and his right hand drifted down, across the small swell left by childbirth, lower, lower. His erection strained, precum leaking as he felt the springiness of her thick pubic hair beneath her sweats, no panties he discovered, and then the rise of her mons. He groaned again as her legs parted, inviting, encouraging.

In his dream his right hand slipped down to cup her pussy, large, full, his left hand feeling her small, plump breast, and he pulled her body against his, tight against his stiff erection. He let his middle finger massage, seeking her slit then her clit. His hips hunched, penis sliding up through her buttocks as he found it, hard, prominent against his finger. She gasped, twitched, clenched, and he came, shot after shot of cum soaking his pajamas, his penis straining, spitting. Oh God, sweet release.

In his bed, Andrew stained his pajamas, his sheets, humping, cumming, and if anyone had been awake they would have heard him cry out, "Oh God, Mom."

Amanda dreamed. In her dream she was in Daddy's arms, dancing slowly, radio playing quietly in the background, inhaling his musky masculine scent, her head resting against his chest. His arms surrounded her, protecting, loving, and she turned her face up to his. "I love you, Daddy."

His deep blue eyes looked into hers, a smile curved his lips. "I love you too."

A thrill of anticipation trembled inside as he bent towards her upturned face, her nipples tingled, hardened, and his lips touched hers. Her eyes closed as she felt his warmth on her mouth, a moan escaping. She felt her clitoris harden, swell, as his large hands slipped down her back to cup a buttock in each palm pulling her closer. Passion welled within and she arched her back pressing her small breasts into him, seeking stimulation, needing stimulation, and rubbed her taut nipples against his chest. He gripped her buttocks, she opened her mouth, her dainty tongue probing, asking, demanding.

In her dream Daddy moaned and opened his mouth, welcoming her, greeting her, playing with her and she felt the first stirring of moisture inside her panties as her desire built. She broke the kiss, needing more. Taking his hand in hers she led him to the couch, pushing him down. He looked up at her, question in his eyes and a smile breaking as she sat sideways on his lap. His arms surrounded her as she leaned forward to kiss, more passionate, more forceful this time, arms around his neck pulling. A surge of sexual desire flushed within her as she felt his hard penis against her bottom, as his hand moved to her chest, rubbing her sensitive new breast, holding, feeling. She started panting as his hand slid down to her thigh, warm fingers slipping between as she spread them to give him room.

In her dream her body burned with desire, with need. She was soaked before his hand started sliding up, up, closer, closer, until he touched her, lightly, then pressing, probing, feeling. Her climax erupted when he rubbed her clit, pleasure assaulted her brain as wave after wave crashed over her. Oh Daddy, Daddy.

In her bed Amanda's thrashing body stilled, and had anyone been listening they would have heard her cry out, "Oh Daddy, Daddy."

Sara dreamed. In her dream she could feel his hands on her back, massaging gently, shoulder to waist, relaxing, good, the pressure from his hands pushing her naked breasts deliciously into the mattress. She followed his hands in her mind, picturing, warm, moving down, down to her buttocks, squeezing, massaging, mmm good. She felt her ass crack open and close, cool air touching protected places, the pull and push of his hands felt all the way to her pussy, arousal bloomed, nipples hardened. She heard him move, his hands sweep from thigh to ankle, calming, relaxing, and from ankle to thigh, exciting, warm strong hands gripping muscles, soothing muscles.

In her dream she felt fingers slip to the inside of her legs, smooth soft strokes, inching higher, slowly higher. Imagination and desire made her wet, anticipation heightening her sexual arousal. Will he? Hands stimulated her skin, warmth diffusing through her as they moved closer, hurry her mind urged. Sweeping up and onto her ass they spread her buttocks, thumbs rubbing close, oh so close, labia sliding against each other, moisture seeping out. At last, she thought as a hand dipped down, sliding through to cup her throbbing pussy. A finger touched her clit, pushed, rubbed, circled, and she groaned, her hips twitched. With exquisite slowness the finger slid through her labia moving closer to her now soaking vagina, erotic anticipation built, her breath rate increasing as it got closer and closer until, finally it touched her opening. Her hips moved, encouraging, directing. Push it in! An agony of need filled her when the finger only teased, rubbing lightly, probing gently but not penetrating. Disappointment bloomed.

In her dream the finger moved away, up towards her asshole. Excitement returned with a rush, will he? With gentle pressure she felt his finger push, her asshole at first resist then relax, and his finger penetrated her, slipping deeper and deeper. Lovely. A shudder shook her when a second finger touched her vagina, probed and slipped into its wet warm clasp. When a third rubbed her clitoris she knew she was close, wonderfully close. As fingers moved in and out and her climax neared, body shook, she heard a whisper. "I love you, Mom." Her orgasm exploded, stars behind her eyes, she felt hot liquid spurt out of her vagina again and again. Oh Jesus, Andy.

In her bed Sara's body jerked, wetness spread through the crotch of her panties, but Sean didn't hear her whisper, "Oh Jesus, Andy."

In the same bed, next to Sara, Sean dreamed. In his dream Amanda was holding his hand in hers, leading him, head turned looking at him, a shy smile on her beautiful face. He smiled, let her lead. She turned, still holding his hand, to climb the stairs and he felt the first stirring of arousal as her tightly jean-clad bottom moved sensually side to side, small buttocks moving up and down in front of his eyes, so perfect, so desirable. His penis stiffened. She led him down the hall, hand in hand, her slight body so small compared to his, feet bare. At the door to her room she turned, luminous green eyes looking into his, a soft innocent smile on her lips, a gentle tug of his hand encouraging him, enter, please.

In his dream she closed her door and turned the lock, a promise of privacy. An ache knotted deep inside as his expectation built, his erection pulsed, now prominent in his pants; she looked down, a blush rising at the sight of his desire. He wanted, God how he wanted. She stepped close, arms circling his waist, head tilted up in expectation, youthful desire in her eyes. With a moan he bent his head, eyes locked on her small red lips, hands on her back, pulling, urging her closer. As lips touched, lightly, tentatively, his eyes closed, his hands brushed across her slim back falling from her shoulders to hold her bottom, so small in his hands. He felt the bulk of his erection press into her stomach, a sexual surge, pure desire, unfolded within and, with another moan, he opened his mouth, his tongue slipping through her lips. Precum wet his underwear as she responded, her delicate tongue touching his.

In his dream he felt the palm of her hand against his chest, pushing, breaking their passionate kiss. Opening his eyes he watched as she backed away, a smile on her swollen lips. Standing in front of him, head slightly dipped, eyes looking up at him shyly, her fingers went to the buttons on her blouse. One by one she opened them, so seductive, so sexy, he thought, until the blouse draped open, her plain cotton training bra visible in the gap. "Beautiful," her told her and encouraged, she slowly opened the blouse.

"Just for you, Daddy."

He almost climaxed.

In his dream as Amanda's blouse fell to the floor his gaze was riveted on her, her perfectly formed, half lemon-sized breasts starkly outlined within the cotton, sharp protrusions of erect nipples pushing insistently against the cloth. "Beautiful." Her smile grew with the confirmation of her attraction to him, her hands moving to the button of her jeans, opening, the sound of a zipper heard. He gasped as her white panties appeared, burned with desire as her hips swung, jeans edging down her slim hips. Disappointment and frustration flooded him as, with the sight of her prominent pubis so perfectly outlined in her panties and a small camel toe highlighting her cleft, he came, explosively, in his underwear, the pleasure of release dampened by frustration, wanting more. Amanda, oh God Amanda.

In his bed Sean's body hardly moved as his penis pulsed, spitting semen into his pajamas and Sara didn't hear him moan, "Amanda, oh God Amanda."

That night the family dreamed, dreams that would forever change their lives, the outward appearance of a happy, well balanced family only a veneer covering the seismic shifts that had taken place in their minds, doors now opened, never to close again.

It was a subdued breakfast in the O'Reilly house that morning, outward smiles and chat hiding what lay beneath, each remembering their dream from the night before, each recognizing something had changed within them. They were preoccupied, too preoccupied to notice others were too.

Amanda was thrilled, her dream, while not as all-encompassing as the one at the motel, was wonderful. She had woken, refreshed, the dampness in her panties bringing her dream back. Her dream, as erotic and satisfying as it was, had shown her the way, Daddy's responses convincing her she could entice him. As the day progressed, so did her plans. She couldn't wait to get home and get started.

Andrew woke with the not unfamiliar feeling of dried semen. He lazed in half sleep remembering his dream, stroking his erect penis as he replayed each moment until he climaxed, not worried about his pajamas as they were already soiled. In the shower he thought about his mom, wondering why he was so attracted to her and decided she was simply so much sexier than Jenny. At the breakfast table, watching Mom move about, he wondered how he might engineer a feel, nothing major, just enough to satisfy his curiosity. Was she as delectable as in his dreams? He felt an ache of desire and, unsurprisingly, got another erection.

Sean woke in an agony of desire, a rigid, throbbing erection pressing against the mattress. He felt an urgent need to see Amanda nude, his dream only stoking his imagination. At work his mind kept wandering, illicit lascivious thoughts prowling through the dark corridors of his mind. He masturbated in the toilet and, while providing relief, he still felt an unsated tension knotted inside. Guilt stalked him. He rationalized his desires; I only want to see her, he thought, she'll never know.

Sara spent the day wrestling with long buried demons. She couldn't help but think her incestuous dream about Andrew was driven by the episode with her father, the secret daydreams that had fuelled her growing sexual self exploration of her youth. Somehow, in her mind the two were the same, both incestuous, both eliciting a secret thrill. And, oh, the feeling of squirting as she climaxed, amazing. She wondered if it would be as good in real life as it had been in her dream; her panties were only damp that morning, not soaked as they would be if she had actually squirted. As the day progressed desire battled with motherly instinct, the concept of incest more thrilling with every passing hour. She felt herself getting wet at the thought of Andrew, young, vigorous, and inexperienced. Was he a virgin, she wondered with a thrill.

Tensions built in the O'Reilly house, frustrations driven by unexpressed and unfulfilled desires. Amanda was disappointed in Daddy's reactions to her subtle come-ons. She had worn her thinnest panties, a skirt, and a tight t-shirt with no training bra to accentuate her small breasts. Carefully, artfully, she sat on the stairs reading a book resting on raised knees, waiting for Daddy to come home. When he did, she was devastated when he only looked at her, didn't even smile before stepping past her up the stairs without saying a word. She tried again later after dinner, hugging him, pressing her unrestrained breasts into him. He didn't react, just pulling back gently to smile at her, a fatherly smile.

Sean just about lost it when he walked into the house. He saw Amanda sitting on the stairs, smiling, a book on her raised knees. He became painfully erect as he noticed her plump panty-covered pussy peeking out below her skirt, material forming a camel toe between her labia just like in his dream and he panicked. Suddenly he felt embarrassed and scared she'd see his erection. He rushed upstairs and, in the safety of the bedroom, pushed his erection down to hide it. Anger and frustration flooded him later when he felt Amanda's firm breasts press against him and he felt an all consuming desire when he realized she wasn't wearing her training bra. He so desperately wanted to hold them in the palm of his hands but could only smile and pull back from her hug.

Andrew wasn't immune from frustration that evening. He had decided to help Mom cook, taking every opportunity to brush against her, subtly he thought. The fleeting touches inflamed him making him want more, her ass so firm. His inability to have more, touch more, built inside as agonizing desire.

Sara wasn't immune to Andrews's actions. She felt him brush against her ass, touch her arm, the fleeting touch of his hand on her behind, a not quite subtle grope. She felt heat blossom between her thighs and her panties get damp as she imagined being able to touch him, feel him, even hold his erection. Her mind wondered how big it would be and she felt her nipples tighten. Yet, at the same time, she felt ashamed, ashamed of her growing attraction for her own son. But mostly, ashamed at how unfaithful it made her feel. She loved Sean deeply, still felt the effect his magnetic attraction had on her, and the illicit allure of her son only made her feel worse, as though she had had an extra-marital affair. She realized she'd have to talk about it with Sean, their honesty with each other too important to jeopardize. Yet, she was nervous and anxious at the prospect. She fretted about how to bring the subject up and discuss it rationally, thinking perhaps she should wait, see what developed first. Then in her typical Irish forthrightness she decided it had to be discussed, that night.

As they lay next to each other Sara steeled herself and started.

"Sean, we need to talk."

"About what, Honey?" he asked, trepidation squirming inside, worried she might have noticed something.

"Promise me you'll not say a word until I'm finished."

"Okay, Sara. What's up?"

"You know I love you more than anyone in the world. You're a fantastic father, a wonderful husband and the best lover anyone could wish for."

Oh-oh, he thought.

"The thing is, there are some things we haven't shared. Not important stuff, or it didn't seem like it at the time. But now it's become important. I need to start when I was a child. You know I was an only child. Well, when I was growing up, my dad was the most important person to me, God rest his soul.

"I guess I was around nine when puberty started. At first it was just an ache in my breasts and I really didn't understand what it was. You have to remember, back in those days no-one really talked about puberty or sex, especially Irish Catholics. So I was left to myself to discover how my body was changing.

"I'd rub my chest to ease the soreness but, I guess I had turned ten when I found rubbing my chest started to produce tingles in me, nice tingles. It didn't take long to figure out I liked it. It was a short while later I felt breasts starting, really just lumps under my nipples. I knew what they were, of course, but I was surprised how sensitive they became. My nipples would get hard, too.

"Up to that point, that was all I had discovered. Like any girl, I had inspected my body in the mirror so I knew what I looked like, but I was still pretty ignorant. I was really surprised when I was rubbing my chest and nipples one night and I got this weird sensation between my legs; at that time I had no clue what it was called, it was just "it," something you weren't to talk about according to Mom.

"Anyway, that was the first time I touched my pussy other than to clean it. It didn't take me long to figure out that rubbing my clit felt way better than rubbing my chest. I didn't have orgasms, it just felt really good. But then, I was inquisitive. I wanted to know how boys were different. Since books weren't an option and Mom wasn't forthcoming, I thought I'd find out for myself.

"You can figure out where this is going. Dad was the only male around, so I walked into the bathroom when he was washing and stared. Imagine my surprise. I know now he was flaccid, but really, to a ten year old innocent it seemed big; a long shaft with a mushroom shape at the end and thick hair at the base. Dad didn't react, just let me look and I eventually left. But now my curiosity was aroused. I asked my friends about it and eventually sneaked a peek at a book in the local library. That's how I learned about the mechanics of sex.

"The thing is, I continued to masturbate every so often but never with a climax. And the first time I did achieve a climax, I happened to be thinking of Dad's penis at the time, imagining it erect. It was such a wonderful sensation, the orgasm, that I sort of became hooked. It was always with images of Dad's penis. As my puberty progressed and my knowledge increased my imagination did too. By the time I was twelve I would dream of Dad making love to me. It just sort of evolved that way. Eventually, I matured enough that boys replaced Dad in my fantasies but you need to understand it was Dad who was my first phantom lover. Do you understand?"

Sean had been listening to Sara's story and, imagining his wife as a ten year old masturbating to images of her father was incredibly erotic. His body reacted with a pleasing thickening in his penis.

"So, do you understand? You can speak now?" Sara said.

"Sara, I completely understand. I think it's sweet. Thanks for telling me."

"Sean, that was only the background so you could appreciate what I have to tell you."

That fear crept back inside him, a greasy snake in his gut, his partial erection deflating. "Okay. What else?"

"Well, I always thought those dreams were just a normal part of growing up. You know, everyone says your first love is your father. But that's not it."

She felt scared. You can stop now, she thought. No Sara, you can't. It's too important. Taking a deep breath, her hand damp and trembling with nervousness, she reached for Sean's grasping it tightly.

She proceeded to tell Sean about Andrew, his maturing, the stains on his sheets from wet dreams, his ogling her when he didn't think she was watching, his sudden departures to his room or the bathroom, about knowing he had an erection.

"Honestly, I thought it was normal. I mean boys will hump a tree, so ogling their mother is nothing and, to be honest, I was a little proud that he'd find me attractive, what mother wouldn't. But it was just normal, I thought. Then I had a dream."

She felt Sean's grip tighten, then she told him about her dream last night.

"And, right when my climax started I heard a whisper, "I love you, mom" and, God forgive me, I had one of the wildest climaxes I've ever had. I actually felt myself squirting in my dream." Jesus, she thought, I'm getting wet at the thought.

"Then today, this evening when Andrew was helping in the kitchen, he kept on touching me, subtly. I realized that the feelings I had were the same as when I'd masturbate thinking of my father, it was incest that was turning me on!"

Sara paused, then added in a quieter voice, "I'm sorry, Sean. It's not like anything's going to happen, but you just had to know. I couldn't carry this and keep it hidden from you. I love you too much for that."

Sean had a raging erection. He was surprised he found Sara's story so erotic. He'd never given any thought to mothers and sons having intercourse, but now he did, he realized it was no different than fathers and daughters. The illicitness of incest was really exciting.

Sara tensed, held her breath. Sean hadn't said a word for a minute. She breathed again when she heard him finally talk.

"I need to tell you something," he said. "I had a dream, too."

Sean proceeded to tell Sara about his dream, of Amanda leading him by the hand and the sensuality of the kiss, of the exoticness of her undressing down to her underwear and the delicious thrill of pubescence being revealed, and of his cumming in his pants.

"At first, I didn't know what to make of it. But I think it's her budding pubescence, of innocence that got to me. Honestly, Sara, I've never thought about anything like that in my life. The other thing is, your story about you as a child, and about Andrew gave me an incredible hard on. I guess the concept of incest turns me on, too."

Sara was as aroused as she had ever been; Sean's description of kissing Amanda and her sweet seductive strip had her burning with excitement. She turned to look at Sean and saw a mutual arousal; she saw the tent of his erection and moaned. "Fuck me Sean."

He couldn't wait, no time for foreplay. He moved to get over her when she whispered, "No. In my ass," and rolled onto her front. He let himself down slowly, his erection first making contact against her bottom, then his body covering hers, so petite under him. He groaned loudly as her buttocks nestled into his groin. God he loved her ass.

Grasping his penis he slipped it between her cheeks, slipping up across her moist pussy, drawing slipperiness up, seeking her asshole. He felt it against the tip then Sara curled her hips pushing against him and he felt her asshole open slowly, his penis slip into her, tight, hot. He thrust, his need urgent, sinking into her ass fully.

Sara felt his erection push on her asshole. She lifted her hips to reach down and fondle herself, her finger slipping through her red pubic hair to massage her hard aching clit. She felt the exquisite torture of her asshole stretch around Sean's helmet, the relief as it popped in and, gloriously, the fullness inside as he thrust deeply into her. She moaned, so close. She pushed her fingers into her slippery vagina, in and out in time with his thrusts, buried her face in the pillow as she screamed out her orgasm, hot liquid squirting out over her hand with every wave of ecstasy.

Sean started thrusting knowing he was too close, he had been too excited to start with and the tightness of her rectum gripping his penis felt just too good. He gritted his teeth trying to hold out, wait for her release and, when he heard her scream into her pillow, her buttocks thrusting up into him clenching hard, he came explosively, and then even harder as he felt her squirting, soaking his testicles. He pumped into her shooting cum deep into her ass with every thrust until he was drained, collapsing on Sara's back, chest heaving.

They slept.

That morning, no mention of their talk was made, although there was no discomfort or embarrassment felt by either. As Amanda and Andrew prepared to leave for school, Sara whispered to Sean, "Perhaps you could be late to work. We should talk."

And they did, over fresh coffee at the kitchen table, openly, honestly, just like it had always been in their marriage, comfortable, an easy trusting relationship.

"Can I ask you something, Sara? Would you really want to have sex with Andrew?"

Sara considered it seriously. "Yes. I think I might. The thought excites me, his youth, even the possibility he may be a virgin. I've never had sex with a virgin."

"Do you think he would want to have sex with you?"

"Under the right circumstances, I think he would."

"What circumstances?"

"Well, I think he'd be too embarrassed if I approached him directly. I'm pretty sure he wants to, but I'd have to create an opportunity where he'd feel comfortable."

"Like what?" Sean asked.

"I don't really know. I'd have to give it some thought. But let me ask you the same thing. Do you think Amanda would like to have sex with you?"

"I have no idea, Sara. She's never given me any sign that she's even aware of sex."

"Well she's going through puberty and if she's anything like I was I'd bet she has thought about it. It's so much easier for kids to learn about sex these days."

"Be that as it may, I have no idea."

"You'd like to, though, wouldn't you?"

"God, yes. Yes I would."

"Hmmm. Maybe I'll feel her out, see where she's at, you know, find out what she thinks of sex, maybe how she feels about you. I've been planning to have that talk with her anyway."

"Jesus Sara, just us talking about it makes me horny."

"It makes me wet, too." And with a seductive smirk, "Want to do something about it?"

That afternoon, Sara went to Amanda's room when she returned from school.

"Amanda, I need to have a chat."

"Sure, Mom. What's up?"

Sara had given this some thought. She knew she couldn't come right out with questions about how Amanda thought about her dad, or what she thought about sex. Amanda would just get embarrassed and shut down.

"I want to talk to you about sex."

Amanda blushed. "Aw gee, Mom. I know about sex."

"I'm sure you do. I wanted to tell you about me."

As she thought, Amanda suddenly looked interested, and with that she started to tell her story about her sexual awakening at ten years old. She was somewhat surprised to see Amanda's blush deepen as she related the story, but was astounded when, once finished, Amanda started talking.

Amanda told her about her dream at the motel, then about her dream of dancing with Dad and, as if the dam had burst, her planned seduction and how it hadn't worked. They chatted for over two hours, Sara asking questions, Amanda answering, Amanda asking, Sara answering honestly. Sara realized Amanda was remarkably mature about her dreams, she seemed aware of what it was she wanted and how society frowned upon it. She even understood she shouldn't even be trying but couldn't resist the feelings she had.

That night Sara had a talk with Sean as they lay in bed. She had plans.

Chapter Three: Sweet Ecstasy

"So I had a chat with Amanda today," Sara said as they lay side by side, bodies touching lightly.

"And?"

"It was a real eye-opener. She's much more mature than I gave her credit for. I told her about my childhood and how my sexuality developed and the role Dad played in my fantasies. I thought it might be the right approach to opening her up. By the way she blushed, I think she might suffer from the same affliction."

Sean felt a twinge of excitement as he asked, "Does she?"

"I don't know, didn't ask. It's something she'll have to wrestle with."

Sara knew exactly how Amanda felt, knew about her dreams, and had been surprised with the level of understanding she demonstrated of the mechanics and the emotions of sex. One thing had come through loud and clear, Amanda had more than a crush on her husband. She sympathized with Amanda, having felt the same way about her father and, as their conversation had progressed, had realized she didn't feel there was anything fundamentally bad about it. Quite the contrary, Amanda's recounting of her dreams, the details, the innocence of some aspects and the eroticism of others had aroused her; she could so picture herself in the same position.

Amanda had made her promise not to tell Dad about her dreams, but a wicked idea occurred to Sara; what if I help her? She imagined how Sean would react to certain things and, knowing him as well as she did, she thought she could give Amanda some pointers that would drive Sean nuts. How delicious would it be to watch it unfold, she thought. Part of her plan was to make Sean unsure so she could watch him as he wrestled with being a father and his desire for Amanda.

"But Sean, if she decides she wants to pursue anything with you she has my blessing." And as an afterthought she added, "Oh, so do you."

Sean felt an erection rise as he imagined a relationship develop with his thirteen year old daughter. How would it develop? What would it feel like to hold her, touch her, feel her?

"But . . ." Sara added.

He almost groaned aloud. Damn, why does there always have to be a "but" in everything.

Sara continued, smiling. Sean was like an open book. She could see the effect her "but" had had in dampening his imagination. "You have to promise me some things, Sean. First, you must promise me you will not, ever, take the initiative with Amanda. If she wants to do anything it has to be her decision and the only way I can be sure that it's her decision is if I know you would never instigate anything; that you only respond to her.

"Second, if you hurt her in any way, physically or emotionally, I'll cut your penis off. I swear it!"

Sean's mind immediately envisioned himself without a penis and it wasn't a pleasant image. He knew Sara never made promises she wasn't prepared to keep; she had an Irish temper that was intimidating and, while she might not physically slice it off, she wouldn't hesitate doing something that would involve a lot of pain.

"And finally, if anything does develop, you have to promise it won't become an obsession with you. I'm not giving up my husband or my family life." She stopped, waiting for his reaction.

Sean's first reaction was to immediately agree with anything Sara said. But he knew she'd never believe him unless he gave it serious thought, took his time to digest it.

"Before I answer, Honey, have you thought about Andrew?"

She had indeed. In fact, her chat with Amanda had coalesced plans in her mind. She had told Amanda that she'd be alone with her father the weekend after next.

"I have. I've decided to take Andrew to his soccer tournament. I know you always take him, but you'll have to make some excuse, maybe an unexpected meeting on the Saturday so I can step in. Then, you have to book a one bed room in the hotel for Friday and Saturday. I'll use the weekend to test the waters with him."

Sean's erection was recovering as he thought about Sara and Andrew, about being home alone with Amanda, the possibilities thrilling.

"What about you?" he asked. "What about the promises you want me to make? They apply equally to you, you know."

"Hmm. That's true." She thought about applying those same promises to her and Andrew and realized there might be a problem. If she agreed to never instigate anything, did that preclude teasing? She had to be able to subtly encourage Andrew; he'd never have the courage to try, to test. And at his age, despite the bravado of youth, she knew their egos were fragile, easily bruised. "Okay, with a small modification to the first promise, I agree."

"What small modification?"

"I need to be able to tease Andrew a little, nothing overt, just subtle little things, a brush against him. You know, stuff like that."

"Does that go for me, too?"

"Nope. Amanda is much less mature, more impressionable. You can't take the chance that something you do is misinterpreted."

Damn, damn, damn. I hate it when she's right! He rolled onto his side, his face over hers, and kissed her lightly. "Okay, I promise," he said looking into her eyes so she'd see he was serious.

She smiled and the palm of her hand touched his cheek. "I trust you Sean," a tingle of anticipation felt in her stomach.

As they drifted into sleep, Sean was thinking about Amanda, and Sara's rules. Was there a loophole he could exploit? After serious thought he realized sadly there wasn't; he was cornered and would have to let things unfold in their own way.

Sara was smiling to herself. She had been an active co-conspirator with Amanda, giving her ideas that she knew would drive Sean crazy. She did, after all, know his foibles. She was looking forward to the show, so to speak.

Friday dawned with three of the family in remarkably good spirits, each imagining possibilities. Andrew was the only one unaware of the changes taking place, happily ignorant, still letting his hormone driven imagination titillate.

Over the following week events unfolded, some giving pleasure, some causing that sweet agony of desire to burn brightly.

Of all the family members Sara had the most fun. Having primed Amanda and restrained Sean, neither aware of her machinations of each other, she had set in motion a marvelously entertaining soap. She also started teasing Andrew in subtle ways. She hugged him often pushing her breasts gently against his chest with maybe a little rub as she pulled away. One morning she wore a pair of sweat pants that were a little tight, without underwear, making sure she bent over the kitchen sink at some point. She thoroughly enjoyed surreptitiously watching the effect on Andrew, his reflection in the window. He'd blushed slightly and beat a hasty retreat to his bedroom, his erection evident.

She giggled to herself when he stopped coming down in his pajamas, switching to jeans to contain the physical signs of his arousal. Instead of kissing him lightly on the cheek she slowly moved closer to his mouth throughout the week until her kisses were just to the side of his lips. Towards the end of the week she noticed Andrew starting to instigate hugs or brush by her closely. She felt a secret thrill every time he tried something new, knowing she was getting to him.

Poor Andrew was in agony, a constant state of horniness and no amount of masturbation seemed able to alleviate him. While completely unaware that his mother was acting deliberately, she was driving him nuts. Jesus, look at her ass, there's no way she's got any panties on, he thought one morning. As he ogled her firm bottom and the hint of her butt crack, he got a raging erection imagining what it might feel like sliding up and down his penis and had to beat a hasty retreat to masturbate furiously into the toilet. He started wearing jeans in the morning after getting an erection before even entering the kitchen one morning. When he'd feel her soft breasts pressing into him as she hugged him he couldn't remember anything she was saying, all of his concentration focused on where her they touched his chest.

One night he almost came in his pants. He was sitting in an armchair when his mom came into the den. As she sat, she pulled her knees up to the side, curling her legs onto the couch. In the process Andrew watched as her panties came into view, her full pussy accentuated by sleek white satin. The sight of a few red pubic hairs escaping from the gusset was too much and he had hurriedly left the room to masturbate, again, needing only a few strokes to cum, images floating through his mind. On another occasion he actually ejaculated in his underwear. He'd been horny all day from all Mom's small touches. His imagination took flight when he saw her bra-clad breasts starkly outlined, streaming sunlight through the window turning her blouse translucent. However, what took him over the edge was another panty sighting. Sitting at the kitchen table that afternoon with Mom across from him eating an orange, she'd accidently knocked her paring knife off the table. Andrew bent down to pick it up, taking the opportunity to try for a voyeuristic peek up her skirt. It was the sight of her panties, white gusset hugging her labia and lacy front panel with a full red pubic bush showing through that did it. He came spontaneously at the erotic sight. Blushing furiously he left the kitchen to clean himself, unaware of his mothers smile.

Sean fared no better that week, although Sara did benefit from his frustration every night as he screwed her senseless, his stamina remarkably enhanced. It was the subtleness of Amanda's behaviour that got to him. She never seemed conscious of what she was doing or aware of the effect it was having. Her shyness at times inflamed him it was so attractive. She snuggled against him on the couch, her face upturned and smiling. "Hi Daddy," she said, the neck of her t-shirt falling open, far enough that he could see her training bra and two small mounds starkly outlined within, his penis telling him how sexy they looked. He'd inhale her natural perfume, so delectable and arousing, as she hugged him, her head resting against his chest, small breasts pressed against him. He'd get a peek at tiny white panties nestling a plump pudendum between her legs as she bent to pick up a magazine on the floor, her skirt riding up. He'd see her bra-less perky nipples pressing against her t-shirt as he helped her with a homework assignment, something she had never asked him to do before. She'd smile at him, so bright, the light shining in her green eyes drowning him.

He increasingly found himself unable to tear his eyes away from her, watching her small bottom move as she walked away, or her sharply defined crotch so prominent in tight jeans as she walked towards him. Her blush, as she stepped out of the bathroom, brushing by him wearing just a towel wrapped around her and damp red hair falling down her back, made his heart ache. The sexy swing of her bottom under the short towel as she walked to her room made his heart lust. And yet, he couldn't figure out if she was doing anything deliberately. It could all too easily be his perspective that colored his interpretation. Every day he regretted the promise he had made to Sara. He took his growing sexual frustration out on her, fucking her long and hard, with visions of Amanda in his mind intensifying his climaxes. He couldn't help himself as, thrusting into Sara from behind, her on all fours, he wondered how Amanda's bottom might look in the same position and, as he fondled his wife's breasts, he wondered how Amanda's might compare, how they might feel in the palms of his hands, how firm, their texture. That week he was unaware of Sara's observation, her secret glee, and the constant feedback and advice she was providing to Amanda. He didn't know it was Sara's idea that Amanda should sit on Daddy's lap under the pretext of showing him an article in a magazine, wearing pajamas without any underwear. All he knew was he could feel two small warm unfettered buttocks against him and the painful erection it generated.

Amanda, like her mom, had fun that week. Her mom was a constant source of ideas, some of which surprised her. Mom had told her to start with subtle things like a hand on his arm when she'd talk to Daddy, or a touch of her hip when she was next to him, but gently. Apparently she was to make it seem accidental. So she did. But for the first two or three days nothing seemed to be happening; Daddy didn't seem to be reacting. She asked Mom about it and Mom laughed. "You need to know the signs," she said, then proceeded to explain that when Daddy was angry or randy, both being a state of excitement of some sort, his eyes would turn a darker blue and the pupils would seem wider. She learned that apparently, when Daddy was randy, his crotch would look bulkier and, if he was sitting down, he'd start shifting around as though he was antsy, uncomfortable. Amanda knew what a penis looked like, soft or erect, having been on the internet enough to be exposed to the pervasive smut. Understanding what Mom meant about "bulky" made her giggle but also fired her imagination when she'd play with herself in bed at night. Wondering what Daddy's penis looked like, how big it was, or how thick it might be sent chills though her. Now she knew what to look for she started watching Daddy closely.

It was Mom's suggestion that she give Daddy little peeks of her training bra when she first saw success. At first she was confused, she thought you were supposed to show more. But mom had told her that the most powerful weapon in seduction was the imagination. Amanda would have to make Daddy imagine her as sexy and desirable if she wanted to get a reaction out of him. So she had deliberately worn a loose-necked t-shirt and plain white training bra, her most modest, and snuggled next to Daddy on the couch. Waiting for the right moment, she turned her face up to him knowing full well the wide neck of the t-shirt would let him see underneath. "Hi Daddy," was all she said and a thrill went through her as she saw his eyes look down her t-shirt, darken, and the pupils widen. Excited by his response, the first she had noticed, she hugged him inhaling his manly smell deeply. That success along with the continued guidance from Mom set her off on a wonderful journey of discovery, the thrill of the chase, of seduction.

She felt herself get wet the first time Daddy's crotch got "bulky." She had worn her white panties pulled up tight under her skirt, Mom's suggestion again, and then bent at the waist to pick up a magazine on the floor, facing away from Daddy. She did it slowly, but not too slowly, fumbling a little trying to grab the magazine. When she turned back, Daddy looked a little flushed and he had a big bulge in the crotch of his jeans. She had a really good orgasm that night. With careful guidance she went bra-less and moved so he'd see her little breasts jiggle under her shirt, timed her exit from the bathroom wearing a short towel and nothing else when she'd hear Daddy climb the stairs. But, the best was when Mom suggested she wear no panties under her pajama bottoms and sit on Daddy's lap. She was already aroused by being panty-less but when she felt the bulk of his penis under her bottom she had to go to her bedroom and masturbate she was so excited. That week was tons of fun and Mom kept her apprised of how she was doing as the week progressed.

Thus the stage was set for the upcoming weekend. On Thursday Sean announced an emergency meeting on Saturday. Andrew wasn't pleased; his dad always took him to his soccer games. When Mom offered to take him he felt sort of put off, all his teammates would have their dads with them, but reluctantly agreed for lack of an alternative.

It was 7:00 am. Sara was finishing packing when Sean entered the bedroom, quietly closed the door, and stood, watching her.

She glanced at him, noticing a reluctance in him. "What`s up?" His cheeks turned a little red. He's blushing again, how cute.

"Um. I'm not really sure how to ask this. Um. You know, if . . ."

"Sean, for goodness sake, out with it. If you don't ask you'll never get an answer." She found this new shyness rather endearing.

"Um. Well. Um. You know. Um," and taking a deep breath, "if Amanda actually wanted to do anything, not that I'm expecting her to," he added hastily, "but if she did, um, would she be big enough? You know. Um. Well you know."

Sara had to hold back a laugh. He really was clueless. She debated teasing him by telling him that sex with any girl her age could result in some physical harm. She knew he'd fall for it, but sympathized with his evident discomfort. "Sean, she's thirteen. She's a virgin. If she wants to have intercourse you'll have to be careful about how far you go. Girls don't fully mature until they are fifteen or older. Just be gentle and let her lead."

Despite her best intentions, she just couldn't resist teasing him. "If anything happens remember, she's going to be very tight, so go slow."

"Um. Okay. Thanks," and he turned and left the bedroom, cheeks still rosy but with a now raging erection. Tight, he thought.

Sara giggled at her naughtiness then her mind returned to her preparations. She had considered the situation very carefully, how Andrew might react to certain things, how to show him a path without realizing she was the one leading, about the delicacy of a boys ego. She wrestled with how to react to anything he might initiate, wanting to provide reassurance without seeming to encourage. It was a tightrope, a fine line. One wrong response could forever close the door. She finally decided his imagination was strong enough that only subtle actions were needed to induce a reaction and only subtle reactions on her part were needed to encourage, not frighten or deter him.

It started with her clothes. She wore slim fit jeans and a silky white blouse. The blouse wouldn't let her bra show through, but the material hung beautifully, softly conforming to the gentle swells, almost outlining their shape, enough for an imaginative son, she thought.

As Sean hugged at the door she whispered, "Remember your promise Sean."

He smiled, reassuring. And as he watched the Explorer back out of the drive he wondered where Amanda was, what she was doing, the possibilities, of the almost sixty hours ahead, alone, with his beautiful pubescent daughter. Excitement stirred, imagination roused. In a pleasant daydream, Sean headed for the kitchen.

Five miles down the road, stopped at the lights, car heater warming the interior, Sara shrugged out of her winter jacket, each pull of her arms from the sleeves causing a pleasing outthrust of her chest, the movements carefully choreographed for a receptive audience of one.

"So Andy, what are the Hornets chances this weekend?" She turned to him and smiled as she asked him, then accelerated through the now green traffic light.

Andrews eyed darted forward to look through the windscreen, the view ignored as visions of the sharp outline of his mom's breasts played in his mind. Jesus Andy, she asked you a question, answer her. "Um, pretty good, Mom. The Panthers are going to be the tough ones to beat."

Sara, perfectly aware of where his eyes had been, exactly as planned, now reached across the seats, her hand resting gently on Andrews jean covered thigh, two or three inches from his crotch, lingering long enough for heat from her hand to permeate, but no longer, just a motherly touch. "I'm sure your team will beat them Honey." Her lips curled in a tiny smile when she saw a thickness, a bulkiness, a tightness grow in his jeans.

Andrews gaze was fixed, staring ahead. He felt Mom's hand on his thigh, her touch burning, a light touch, close to his crotch, too close, close enough he felt his penis react. Oh God, she'll see. He flicked his eyes towards her quickly; relieved, Mom was driving face forward, he was saved embarrassment.

But his four hour journey was pure agony. Her hand, touching his forearm to emphasize a comment, patting his shoulder reassuringly, rubbing his triceps in pride of an achievement, became a thing of eroticism; warm, soft, comforting, Mom, yet exciting, arousing, her delicate touch, enticing, thrilling. His frantic masturbation in the gas station restroom, visions of the soft, provocatively curved breasts dancing in his mind, provided only temporary relief, tightness returning at the next touch. He began to feel trepidation for the weekend ahead, worried about this growing obsession, how to hide it, manage it, survive it. Me and Mom in the same bedroom, he thought. Will he see her changing? Will he see her bra? Maybe even her panties? Stop it! He ordered himself. You're making yourself crazy. Think of Janice, her big boobs, tight ass, blue eyes.

She saw his predicament in the tightening around his eyes, his shifting, never comfortable, his increasingly shorter and shorter answers, and knew she had done enough to start. Stage two was imminent, the hotel. "Why don't you find some music on the radio, Andy, something nice."

Their journey was completed to the sounds of the top twenty, music to Andrew, a puzzling mash of rap, rhythm and dance to her.

"You get the bags while I check us in," Sara suggested leaving the hotel parking lot and heading towards the reception.

"Mrs. O'Reilly, I have a reservation," Sara said to the receptionist

The receptionist checked her computer. "Yes, Mrs. O'Reilly, single, queen for two nights, double occupancy?"

Smiling Sara confirmed and passed her credit card across. So far so good, she thought. Meeting Andrew as he struggled in with the bags, they took the elevator.

"There's been a problem, Andy."

"What?" He asked.

"They made a mistake with our reservation. They've given us a room with a single queen, not two doubles. Unfortunately it's a busy weekend, what with the tournament and all, so we can't get another room." She watched Andrew out of the corner of her eye, her face turned up so she appeared to be watching the progression of the elevator as it blinked past the twelfth floor. At first there was no reaction, but then she saw it, the realization dawning, a slight flush to his cheeks, eyes turning to the floor, feet shuffling. She held in her smile, another success, another step.

Andrew, only half listening to his mother as he wrestled with the bags, suddenly froze. What did she just say? Comprehension dawned on him. Oh Jesus! I have to share a bed with Mom! A flush rose as the thought of her possibly seeing him, seeing an erection, embarrassed him. Fuck, fuck, fuck! What will I do? He fidgeted, worried.

As he followed Mom into the room, the first thing he did was look at the bed. Jesus, that's not a queen, he though, it's way too small, it must be a twin. His mind was flooded with worries. Where do I change? What happens when I get an erection in the morning? How do I hide it?

"Come on Andy. Unpack so we can go get you registered." Sara knew Andrew was feeling a little conflicted, his eyes studiously avoiding looking her way and the jerky, hesitant movements as he started to unpack were ample evidence of his insecurity, a discomfort with the situation. It was time for some reassurance, she decided.

"Andy . . . Andrew!" She waited until he looked at her. Man, how appealing, tall, handsome like his dad, with that delectable something that comes with youth, with innocence. She felt a warmth pervade her lower body as she thought about his immaturity, modesty, oh, his virginity, all packaged up in a growing vigorous body. Desire tickled her mind, what would he look like naked? How would he compare to Sean?

"Okay. Here's the deal," she said firmly, shaking off her musings. "We'll use the 'What happens in Vegas, stays in Vegas' rule. I'll do my best to respect your privacy and you do your best to respect mine. But I don't want to worry if you accidentally see something and I don't want to worry about you getting embarrassed every minute. We're stuck with this situation, so let's accept it. Okay?"

Andrew had to think about it for a minute. What did Mom mean, accidently see something, accidentally see what? Did she know he was always getting erections? Is that what she meant? Then a thrill surged within as he realized she meant him seeing something! Ooh, like what, panties? Bra? Her breasts?

She watched him process, a frown, a fleeting look of concern and then, there it was, the comprehension of just what she had alluded to. She smiled as Andrews flush deepened and his jeans gave away his understanding, and as his eyes finally moved up from the floor to look at her, a smile broke out, a very handsome smile, she thought.

"Okay, Mom. Vegas rules."

"Good. Get unpacked. Let's go."

Andrew hurriedly unpacked. He felt surprisingly relaxed, a tension easing inside. Not having to worry made such a difference to his view of the weekend. It was as if Mom had forgiven him before anything happened, before he might see anything, and that made all the difference. Still, he felt that tightness below; the shadow of excitement growing and embarrassment fading, heat drained from his face.

The afternoon passed quickly, Sara and Andrew browsing shops in the late afternoon after registering Andrew for the tournament. For Andrew, it was a new experience. Mom's touches no longer resulted in the agony of need. While not quite intimate, her touch here or brush against him there, induced a warm arousal. He felt more at ease with her, an occasional hand on her shoulder when walking or at the base of her back to steer her through a crowd, down an aisle or into a shop felt good, titillating, almost like he was on a date. He felt a pleasant thickness in his groin but not a full on erection.

Sara relaxed and enjoyed her son's little attentions. The change had been quite remarkable, no longer flushing or avoiding her eyes, Andrew seemed to blossom, appear a little more adult, and conversation flowed easily. His gentle touches thrilled her, each one. She grinned when he put his hand on her lower back to steer her and she wondered how it might feel lower, briefly considering options to help him along.

At dinner, a small Italian restaurant around the corner, Sara allowed Andrew a glass of wine, only one as he had soccer the next day. But, having no constraint herself, she got a little tipsy on several glasses of red, a rich full bodied Amarone. By the time they returned to their fifteenth floor room, they were feeling good, comfortable, slightly titillated, each from their own secret thoughts. It didn't last.

Andrew sat on the bed as Mom collected some things and headed to the bathroom. "I'm going to shower, Andy" he heard her say. With a slight buzz from the glass of wine, leaning back against the headboard, he closed his eyes, thinking about his new comfort with Mom. But the sound of the shower intruded, his mind turning, and comfort was displaced by other thoughts, better thoughts, exciting thoughts. In his mind's eye he imagined her as she unsnapped the button on her snug jeans, wiggled her slim hips as she pulled them down, the waist tight around her bottom, pulling her panties down to reveal the top of her crease before falling free to the floor. He watched her turn towards the mirror, hands reaching up to undo the top button on her silky blouse, her gaze unfocussed, distracted by some thought, then slowly open the first, then next, then the next until her blouse fell open, her lacy bra revealed.

He had a straining erection as he thought about his mom, the shadows of her areolae hinted at under the lace and the subtle bumps of soft nipples. His penis throbbed as he thought about her white silk bikini panties, puffed out by her full red bush and, oh, red pubic hairs peeking over the top. He felt dampness, precum in his underwear as thought of Mom's hands reaching behind her to unhook her bra, a thrill at the thought of the cups loosening, hanging, covering, and then, with a little shrug, straps falling, and oh my, breasts revealed, still firm, weighty yet proud, delicious. He thought about her hands rising to cup them, rub them, massage them, a dreamy look, head tilted to the side, red hair cascading.

An urgency built inside as he thought about her turning towards the shower, hands slipping under the sides of her panties, slipping them down, of a slight bend at the waist, panties stretching and, glory be, her ass in all its wonder, firm . . .

The sound of the bathroom door opening shook him out of his reverie.

Sara, feeling refreshed from the shower, dressed in her well worn night shirt, really one of Sean's old t-shirts, mid thigh, soft, suggestively hanging on curves, entered the bedroom. "All yours," she said as Andrew popped up from the bed and headed to the bathroom, door closing firmly behind him, lock clicking. Well, well, she thought, what brought on that blush? And for that matter the erection? She knew full well why he clutched his pajamas to his front as he walked by. Who wouldn't? She wondered if he was as alike as Sean when it came to arousal. Did the same things arouse?

She grinned, naughty ideas grew, let's see, shall we? With the sound of the shower running, she picked up her dirty clothes and packed them into her overnight case. Can't have them visible, she thought. Moving over to the thermostat, she turned it low, very low. At the window she cracked it open, just enough for cool winter air to waft in but not breeze, subtle, unnoticeable. At the bedside table she picked up a magazine, the typical hotel and local area services presentation, and carried it to the small writing desk. Reaching under her night shirt, she wiggled her white, silky panties off, stepped out of them and dropped them on the seat of the chair. As she sat on the chair, magazine in hand she heard the shower shut off. She waited.

Andrew slipped into his pajama bottoms and started brushing his teeth. He felt somewhat relieved from jerking off in the shower, yet arousal lingered mentally. After rinsing his mouth he entered the bedroom and stopped. His eyes immediately took in Mom sitting on the chair, long slim legs, bare, delicate feet, no toenail polish, small ankles, slim shapely calves, and a gentle swell of her thigh and buttock on the seat. His eyes moved higher, breathing stopped, the curve of a buttock, so sensual, so suggestive. Was she wearing thongs? French cut panties? He heard her distantly say something about the TV and watched her rise from the chair, heading for the TV cabinet. Blood thumped through him as he saw a pair of tiny white panties left on the seat. He glanced up, looking at Mom as she bent over to turn the TV on, her night shirt rising at the back, rising, rising. Separate observations came together in his mind, a crease where buttock meets leg, panties on the chair. Clarity, hope? Holy mother of God, I don't think she has any panties on! The incredible recuperative powers of youth kicked in. Blood flowed, penis stirred, and flaccidity turned to tumescence in record time. Andrew felt it, he felt the stirring, the situation hit him and he turned, suddenly, heat in his cheeks as he raced back to the bathroom. "Forgot something," he yelled.

Sara watched her son turn and disappear into the bathroom. As she slipped beneath the sheets and blankets she smiled. Like father like son, she thought.

Andrew stood in the middle of the bathroom. If willpower had been enough, his erection would have subsided, but no. It jutted with a mind of its own. He desperately cast around for a solution, one that might help him out of this embarrassing situation. How could he even get to the bed without Mom seeing him like this? Ah hah! Sweeping his clothes off the floor where he had tossed them thoughtlessly in his earlier desperation for relief, he held them in front, took a few deep breaths, tried to look nonchalant, checked himself in the mirror, adjusted the clothes to look more natural, not clutched, and opened the door.

Sara sat up in bed, resting against the headboard, covers pulled up, seemingly watching TV, but she was studying her son as he emerged, clothes held in front and looking relaxed as he moved towards the bed, the whiteness in his knuckles betraying his nervousness. He sat on the bed before releasing the clothes, back to her, then slipped under the covers furtively. Yes, she though, I might do the same in your situation. I'd better let him relax a little.

As the news program ran conversation was stilted between them. But, gradually Andrew relaxed, a direct result of a slight flagging in his erection, helped by the distraction from the TV. He started responding and, when the sports round up came on, became more animated, talking about the upcoming tournament. However, eventually exhaustion from the day's activities, the travel, the tensions, and the wine overcame Andrew and, despite a semi hard-on, he rolled onto his right side, back to Mom, and cuddled under the covers to protect against a progressively cooler temperature. "Night, Mom."

Sara turned onto her left side after switching off the TV. "Good night, Andy. Sleep well." She thought about the progress she had made, the evident impact on Andrew, and made slight adjustments to her plans for tomorrow, a sneaky grin breaking on her lips.

It was 2:10 am when she felt Andrew roll over to face towards her. The room had chilled nicely, cool enough that you needed to pull the covers up to your chin to keep warmth from escaping. She moved herself back carefully until she was against his warm body and waited. Predictably Andrew, in his sleep, was drawn to her warmth, sliding closer, knees curling slightly, until he was spooned into her. She waited. He lifted his arm to hug her, pull her warmth closer; she knew he was still asleep, no erection the telling sign.

She felt a wicked thrill, a deliciously erotic idea bloomed, she smiled, held his hand, then edged it up her torso, slowly, slowly, until it reached her breast. She pushed it gently against her, the warmth of his palm penetrating her night shirt, an illicit tingle, and her nipple stiffened. She held Andrew's hand against her, a warmth growing in her groin, blood moving, swelling, dampening, and waited. There it is, she thought as Andrews hand closed, tentatively, feeling, testing, assessing. She waited, waited for his subconscious to register what he was holding so gently in his hand. Her patience was rewarded. Yes, there we are, she thought as his penis stirred, elongated, thickened, and slipped out of his pajama and up the crease of her buttocks. She clenched her thighs, delicious pressure against a hardening clit, buttocks tightening against his erection, and felt his first move, an unconscious push against her.

Her hand slipped off his, slid down to tug at her night shirt, easing it up past her thighs, over her bottom, past her hips, wanting to feel him better, closer. Her hand stole back down, fingers combing through her pubic hair, breath hissing in as she felt the hard nub of her clitoris slide under the pad of her probing finger. Down, down, slipping down, moisture, heat, groan, her finger slipping into the entrance of her moist vagina, nipples aching. Gathering lubrication she spread it up, up and onto her clit, hips twitching. Careful, she thought as she began a slow erotic stroking, buttocks rhythmically clenching, close, so close.

Andrew dreamed. He dreamed of a breast in his hand, an aroused nipple hard against his palm. He felt the weightiness, so pleasing, the size, a perfect fit, the soft resilience, arousing. He felt his penis stir with that wonderful first onset of arousal, thicken, lengthen, slide up between two pillows, warm, yielding. He expanded into a full, stiff erection as the pillows squeezed him, delicious, intoxicating. His thumb traced the outline of a large, rigid nipple, he moaned, hips thrust, moisture lubricating, thrilling.

In his dream two silky soft pillows encouraged him, promising pleasure, and more, sweet release. His hips moved back and forth stroking, exciting, building, tensing. He moaned, his hand fondled, squeezed, oh good, so good. Two pillows pushed, stroked, encouraged, stimulated, and he felt a tightness in his groin, anticipation built, penis swelled and, oh God, glorious release, spurting, spurting, hotness, wetness, sweet bliss. Heaven. Eyes snapped open. Oh no! Mom! Oh God!

Sara felt the stirring of her orgasm, her fingers urging it on, hips moving rhythmically, slowly. She felt Andrew match her, his warm penis sliding between her buttocks, and the thrill of his wetness as it lubricated. Her pace picked up, he matched her. A sexual pulse made her body tremble as she heard him moan, as he fondled her, and oh, yes, rubbed her aching nipple. She was close, excited. Wetness suddenly soaked her back, her son was cumming, hot warm semen spurting, her climax erupted, vagina clenched, thighs squeezed. Eyes tightly shut, she convulsed peaking, peaking, oh sweet bliss, and then easing, calming. Amazing.

"Oh no! Mom! Oh God," rang in her ear as she felt Andrew violently roll away from her. No! No! Fear trickled into her as she heard a sob. Turning, she opened her eyes, reached out to cup his cheek, turned his face to her and looked into his damp eyes. She smiled, gently. "Andrew, don't. It was wonderful. I loved it."

Sean stood in the kitchen, coffee cup in hand, wondering where Amanda had disappeared to. "Amanda? Amanda, where are you?"

Amanda was in her room, deep in thought, little tingles going through her body. Mom had stepped into her room that morning before leaving and had a quiet chat.

"Your Dad is gentle man, Amanda. He won't do anything to give you the wrong idea or even encourage you. If you succeed in arousing him, and you know the signs, he still won't react the way you want him to. You'll have to lead him, let him know what you want, and encourage him."

"But Mom," she asked worriedly, "what if he doesn't want to?"

Her mom had smiled. "Don't worry about that. Remember, take it slowly, build him up. The more you build him up the easier his wall will crumble. Remember what worked, be subtle. You're smart. And, relax, enjoy it, teasing can be such fun."

She heard Dad calling from downstairs. "I'll be right there," she yelled. Of course, that wasn't strictly true as she proceeded to go through her wardrobe, assessing and discarding as she tried to decide what to wear, what might work, what she thought he'd like, appreciate. Nothing too grown-up but nothing too little girlish and something she could wear to school, a tough decision.

Where is she, he wondered. "Amanda?"

"Coming Daddy."

And true to her word this time, he heard her on the stairs. "You want anything? Coffee, Juice, or.....?" He stopped in mid question. Amanda entered the kitchen and he knew he was in trouble, his body viscerally reacting to her. Amanda had paused in the doorway, smile on her luscious lips, red hair pulled back in a ponytail, a glint in her green eyes. Her simple white blouse didn't quite hide the plain training bra underneath, and certainly didn't hide the shape of her new breasts. He sucked in a breath, almost choking on his coffee as he saw little nipples poking. The pleated, mid-thigh length blue skirt, so simple, hinted at the onset of maturity, a slight flare of hips; an ache blooming inside him. Slim legs, ankle socks, Keds; she was a vision of innocence, purity, budding pubescence, and absolutely one of the most desirable females he'd ever laid eyes on. Amanda. His daughter. His thirteen year old daughter. And then she giggled.

Amanda felt a throb of sensual delight as she watched Daddy's eyes open wide, darken, and pupils grow. As he blatantly trailed his eyes down her body, drinking in the vision she had so carefully prepared. She felt her nipples tighten and couldn't resist giggling as she saw a tightening of his jeans, thrilled.

"Ah, um. Oh yes. Do you want something?"

"That's Okay. I'll get something myself."

Leaning back against the counter, he sipped his coffee and, as Amanda bent down to root around in the fridge, he admired the shape of her bottom, her slender thighs that showed below the rising hem of her skirt and pride flushed through him. She was turning into such a beauty he thought and his heart ached as he realized his princess was growing so fast she'd be an adult before he could blink. He wanted her to stay like this, right on the edge of maturity, still sweet and innocent with that incredible allure of pubescence.

"Amanda. What do you say we both play hooky today? Andrew gets the day off, so how about us doing the same?" he said spontaneously. It was the realization that he wanted to spend time with her, now, while she was just like she was, before she changed, matured. He wanted to treasure her now and, surprisingly, he felt no hidden intent, no arousal or eroticism in the need.

Her face popped out of the fridge, excitement shining in her eyes. "Really?"

"Uh-huh. What 'cha want to do? The day's yours. You pick." He chuckled as he saw a gleam of manipulation enter her eyes.

"Can we go to the mall? You and me?" When he nodded she quickly pressed her advantage. "Can we go to the movies?"

"Okay. How about this, we'll eat in tonight, a really nice dinner, we both cook, china, the works. This morning we go shopping for dinner. After, we'll go to the mall. I'll buy you one thing, but only one thing, Amanda, so think about what you want. Then a matinee," and adding as a quick afterthought, "something we both want to watch."

Amanda's first reaction was to jump at Daddy's suggestion, but she hesitated, wondering how it fit with her plans. She decided it could work; she'd be subtle and slow, just like mom said. "Okay. Let's go."

It was an interesting day for them both. Sean discovered the joy of being with Amanda, of holding her hand as they strolled in the mall, of her enthusiasm over a small gold rope chain and locket in the jewelery store, her excitement when he bought it for her and the cute blush when he asked her which boyfriend's picture she was going to put inside, of her response, "Daaad. I don't have a boyfriend." He basked in her gregariousness, her humorous observations of others, their clothes, their walk, and her commentary on what they had bought, her guesses making him laugh as they became progressively more ridiculous.

He watched her animated face as they ate at the food court, surprised in the love he felt, surprised from the lack of any sexual overtones in him. He was blessed, he decided.

Amanda was excited, planning dinner and shopping for it was fun, plans drifting through her mind. But she was disappointed when Daddy didn't seem to respond to her little moves, a hug around the waist pressing herself against him, touching often, and other small things. But a funny thing happened. She found herself just having fun, watching his big smile, the way he held her hand, his undivided attention and enjoyment of the things that tickled her, all gradually pushing out any other thoughts. Her heart pounded when she pointed out a really nice necklace, a twisted rope of yellow and white gold with a small locket, and he said, "let's buy it," with that big smile. God I love him, she mused to herself, as he teased her about having a boyfriend's picture for it, twinkling blue eyes making her heart skip.

And so it went, two perfectly normal people, father and daughter, spent a day in happiness, enjoying each other for who they were, for the close relationship they had. But Amanda never let her plan stray far from her mind and, as they headed home, she planned anew.

It wasn't until they started making dinner that Sean's perfect, innocent, day was disrupted. Amanda, still in the same clothes, had gone to the fridge to get parsley and chives for their baked potatoes.

"It's not here," he heard her muffled voice call.

"Sure it is. It's . . ." As he turned he was looking at skirt riding high, delicate silk panties peeking between two thighs, forming to plump pussy. He stared and a flush of lust returned. How sexy is that, he thought, a stirring below ignited by the sight.

Amanda looked behind her when Daddy didn't finish his sentence. "Where?" She saw his eyes wide open, unusually so. Oh, the den pose, she thought excitedly. As she straightened, she grinned at him. "So you find the parsley."

It seemed to break Dad out of his trance, his eyes blinked and he turned back to the counter quickly muttering something about in a minute. She felt good, the first sign of success of the evening. Now for more.

Sean was shocked at how suddenly his perspective had changed from fatherly back to libidinous, almost instantly, and at how he physically reacted immediately to the sight of her panty-clad vulva. When Amanda had straightened, he had to turn to the counter to hide the erection in his jeans that had sprung up so quickly. Damn Sara, he fumed. Her promise was just too constraining. And as the night wore on, Sara's name came to him increasingly frequently, with increasingly nasty thoughts about what he'd do to get back at her. His daughter seemed blissfully unaware of the effect she was having on him. Her small hip against his at the counter, a peek at her training bra as she reached past him for knife, or the way she hugged him, pushing her little breasts into his stomach all contributed to a state of continuous arousal.

"I'm going to change, Daddy."

"What? Why?"

"For dinner, silly."

He walked into the dining room to drop the tomato mozzarella salad off and realized, grumpily, he'd have to change too. Amanda had set up a lovely table; two places facing each other across the width, china, silver, wine glasses, and folded cloth serviettes told him his jeans wouldn't cut it tonight. In his bedroom he took the opportunity to change his damp underwear, another reason for his grumpiness, as he pulled up his slacks and tucked in his blue button-down-collar shirt. His grumpiness lasted no longer than it took to walk back downstairs.

Amanda was pulling baked potatoes from the oven as he walked in. As she turned he beheld once again her beauty. Hair pulled back and high with a French braid pony tail, a gold rope chain hanging around her delicate neck, falling between the v-neck of a simple black thigh-length dress, and plain black evening shoes, the entire ensemble made her green eyes the center of attention. Her face glowed without any need of makeup, and her smile, well, her smile was one men would kill for.

"There you are, Daddy. Get the steaks before they're over done."

He watched her as she moved, putting the potatoes on the plates, walking out to the dining room with baked potato trimmings and next, a bottle of Brunello. Her dress hid everything, yet it hid nothing from his imagination. He swore she was braless, her little mounds moving, bouncing, titillating. He strained to see if her nipples were evident and admired the swish of her dress as it swung from side to side with her subtle, natural hip movement. He felt his pulse accelerate as he watched her firm buttocks moving underneath, and felt the threat of an erection, that distinctive thickening, as he wondered if she had any panties on, his inability to find evidence, a line, a crease, fuelling him. But he held himself in check, he had made a promise.

Over dinner they chatted, the steaks were thick, juicy, rare, delicious; baked potatoes light, perfectly cooked. The wine, one of his absolute favorites, was deep, rich, and full-bodied; he'd been surprised when Amanda had turned down a glass. And through it all, he gazed at his daughter, love in his heart, lust knocking at the door demanding entry.

Amanda had prepared herself carefully, her hair, the chain, the dress. She had enticed, going braless and panty-less, the thrill of Daddy not knowing exciting. She was subtle just like Mom had said, and she saw her success in Daddy's eyes, in his rapt attention, never looking away, in his smile, more dreamy than earlier. He offered her wine, but she couldn't afford to be groggy in any way, so she declined. She saw love and she thought maybe more. Her plan was almost complete.

After dinner she cuddled next to Daddy on the couch, his strong arm around her shoulder, holding her, warm, comforting. Butterflies built, it was late, almost time and, at 11:30, as he finished the last of his wine, she turned her head, looked up at him, smiled, rose, leaned over, hand resting on his leg, and kissed him lightly on his soft lips. "Goodnight, Daddy."

As Amanda left the den Sean groaned, deeply, a heart-felt groan of frustration, his erection throbbing in uncomfortably constraining pants. He had been doing so well, he thought, comfortable, respectable, behaved, Amanda leaning against him, his hand softly caressing the skin on her arm and only the slightest hint of her breast against him. But then she had risen and leaned over, she had kissed him, a little girl kiss but right on his lips, and as she had pulled back he saw the edges of her small breasts barely covered by the dress and lust broke down the door. Lust flipped to agony when Amanda quietly said goodnight, turned and left the room.

He jumped up ready to chase after her, grab her, kiss her, and swore, condemning Sara as he turned off the lights and headed to his bedroom. For the first time in a long time Sean masturbated in the bathroom, straining erection in his fist, eyes tightly closed, visions of the soft, firm swells of Amanda's new breasts teasing and her plump panty-clad pussy peeking, a shadow of treasures hidden within firing his imagination as he spurted into the toilet.

She was nervous, had it been enough? Would it work? What if it didn't? Oh God, the embarrassment. But the signs, the signs Mom had told her to look for, were all there. Her hand trembled as she reached for the knob of her door. Butterflies fluttered in her stomach as she walked down the dark hall, mind a-swirl with images, fragments of dreams, of touching, of exploring, of new, of desire. Her trembling hand rested on the door knob. This is it, she thought, you can back out now. No! She wanted, she had dreamed, she desired.

Something disturbed him, something, a presence felt, not heard. He opened his eyes and saw her in the doorway. Her long red hair falling in soft waves over her narrow shoulders and down onto her long, thick white bathrobe. He looked at her face, lightly freckled, petite, elfin yet beautiful. Her pretty dark, green eyes shone with puppy love.

Suddenly he was awake, wide awake. "What's wrong, Honey?"

A smile curled her lips, a soft, shy smile, standing, assessing, fear tickling in her mind. Did I misread, misunderstand? Too late. She felt a trembling in her body as she thought about the first step, the critical first step, once taken never to be undone. Inhaling deeply, watching Daddy's sexy blue eyes, she reached for the belt holding her bathrobe closed. Her fingers fumbled with the loose knot; nerves. She let the belt fall to the sides, moved her hands up slowly, curled her fingers around the soft, thick collar and, holding her breath, slipped the robe over her shoulders to fall to the floor. Blood pounded in her brain, fear, what would he do? What did he see? Did he like her new bra and panties, the ones Mom had given her secretly this morning? Were they attractive, alluring, desirable? Then heat flushed through her, Daddy's eyes, first opening wide, darkened, changing. Joy blossomed as she saw concern change to desire, hunger, perhaps lust. She waited.

Sean watched Amanda, huge green eyes looking at him, red hair framing her beautiful yet still immature face, a smile on her lips, childish, shy, alluring, beguiling, demure; deeply attractive. Hope surged as she unknotted the belt of her bathrobe, could it be? Breath froze as her robe fell over small shoulders into a soft pile at her feet, her perfect form revealed before his eyes. He felt his penis stir, thicken, extend as he looked at this vision, this pubescent beauty before him, his daughter. Desire, lust, so carefully controlled, unfurled within, a silky white training bra, the tease of small firm breasts hidden from view, so chaste; so sexy. The shape of her waist, gentle flair of her hips and, oh God, little white bikini panties, prominent pudenda emphasized by little folds and gathers at the edges, plump labia framed by the space between slim thighs. "Oh God Amanda, you're beautiful."

She felt a rush of blood, a heaviness at her groin, as Daddy responded to her carefully planned actions. Dampness seeped into her panties, nipples puckered as she saw a lump formed under the covers, a chill of arousal. He likes. She moved towards him, towards his bed and paused. Her confidence returning, she smiled, watching the lump in the covers as she reached behind her, unhooking, teasing, covering herself as the training bra fell to the floor, hands chastely holding her small breasts. "For you Daddy," she whispered as she let her hands fall away, revealing herself for the first time. She felt a pulse of desire inside her pussy when she heard him gasp, a movement under the covers, a lump becoming bigger, more prominent. He likes. Courage built. She reached for her panties. Will he like her privates? The new hair she was so proud of?

Sean's penis throbbed as his daughter let her bra fall to the floor, her hands covering her small breasts, a picture of sexual allure, sweet, young, shy. He gasped, precum dampening the sheet when he heard her whisper, "For you Daddy," and he saw her breasts for the first time, small, smaller than he had imagined, firm, proud, pink areolae crinkled, tiny erect nipples. He tore his eyes away from her breasts distracted by her hands as they moved, stopped breathing as her fingers slipped under the elastic at her hips, the action pulling them tighter against her vulva. He moaned, agony of desire burning as she slipped them down, inch by inch, hips prominent, a gap forming between the waistband and her flat stomach. Riveted, he stared at her panties, urging them down, hurry, hurry, I want to see; please! The rise of her mons so beautiful, the straight red pubic hairs, so sparse, and, oh God, finally, the dimple of her cleft, plump labia tightly closed, sweeping down seductively between her legs. "Oh, Amanda," he sighed.

A rush of moisture, he likes, he really likes. She let her panties fall to her feet, let Daddy inspect, watched his penis moving the covers. What does it look like? How big? How thick? Will it fit? Will it hurt? She edged closer, stood close to his bed, hands at her side, waiting, waiting, looking at his handsome face, waiting. She saw him look up into her face, smile, his hand lifting the covers, asking, inviting her and love tore at her heart. Yes, she thought as she slipped into his bed, snuggling close, inhaling Daddy's scent, her hand resting on the soft hairs of his broad chest, eyes closed tightly feeling his warm body against hers. Then, rising on her elbow, she looked into his eyes, blue, deep blue, love, arousal. Leaning forward, shaking, she kissed him, soft lips, warm lips, my Daddy.

Sean felt her cuddle to him, the thrill of her small naked body almost more than he could handle. His arm wrapped around her, warm, soft, illicit, her scent, fruity, comforting, arousing, girl, little girl. His hand touched her hip, bony, petite, and his penis pulsed as he thought about her bottom. He saw her rise, heat flushing inside as she bent, kissed him, warm lips, small lips, so chaste, a girl kiss. Lust surged, held back by a promise, lubrication spreading, dampening the sheet. He groaned as he felt her small tongue touch his lips, his hand moving down to cup her cool buttock, so small, so sexy. He couldn't hold back, his mouth opening, tongue emerging touching hers, tentative, testing, arousal building. He heard her moan and felt her push into his mouth, desire flared, his left hand against her thick hair holding her mouth to him as he pushed back, tasting her. My daughter.

Her need grew when his tongue touched hers, an involuntary moan escaping, desire burning and she thrust her tongue into Daddy's mouth, moisture seeping below. She clutched her legs together, squeezing, pleasure strengthening, clitoris hardening as he pushed his hot tongue into her mouth. Yes, Daddy. She let her hand slip down his chest, excitement building, lower, lower, and she felt it, her fingers touching it, damp, slippery. She explored, fingers tracing the tip, soft yet firm, a ridge, and then hardness. Her pussy clenched, clitoris tingled as her hand slid over his erection, my Daddy's erection, soft head moist against her palm, rigid shaft along her fingers, pulsing. Big, she thought, really big; a tremor of apprehension. She felt a pulse, heard Daddy cry out "Oh God, Amanda," and hot liquid splash against her palm, another pulse, another splash, he's cumming, my Daddy's cumming; pride bursting inside.

He tried, Lord how he tried. But her hand, her soft, warm little hand, his daughter's hand, gently, hesitantly exploring, feeling, touching him, was too much. His pent up desires, his imagination, her teasing, his long agony, his dreams, and her touch took him uncontrollably over the cliff. Testes tightened, stomach cramped, toes curled. "Oh God, Amanda." Semen exploded into her hand, a climax paralyzed his body, rigid, frozen as he came again and again, pleasure, relief, and then, regret, and shame as it passed, sorrow, sadness, he had disappointed her.

Amanda was bursting with pride, excited she had made Daddy cum, amazed at how much, how strong, how hot his semen was. He likes. She turned her face to him, a big smile on her lips, green eyes sparkling, "Oh, Daddy! Wonderful, amazing!" And as she bent to kiss him, "I love you."

Chapter Four: Sweet Discovery

As Amanda laid her head on Daddy's chest, she said a silent thank you to Mom. She never would have believed how successful her teasing seduction would be, a spike of arousal sent a flush of dampness between her legs as she replayed the feel of Daddy's hot semen spurting against the palm of her hand. She felt proud, proud she had turned Daddy on so much to cum that fast, and proud that he found her desirable, easing that niggling doubt that had lingered in the back of her mind.

"Oh, Amanda, I'm so sorry."

She turned her head to look at him. He did look sad, she thought, why? It was fantastic!

"Why, Daddy? I loved it."

She let her head rest against his chest again, her hand gently playing with the semen on his stomach, swirling it, discovering its texture, the viscosity, slipperiness.

"It's hot," she said as her fingers moved down seeking, feeling the tip of his penis, rubbing the soft head, tracing the ridge just below, and then the now smaller, soft shaft, marveling at how different it was from just moments ago.

Sean felt stunned, finding it hard to believe he had ejaculated like a school boy at the first touch of a girl. It wasn't how he had imagined or dreamed. He felt contrite; he had ruined his daughter's first experience with sex, with love.

Before he could answer or explain he felt her fingers, warm fingers, slippery fingers, on his flaccid penis, finger pads rubbing the head, feeling the rim, and oh, sliding down his shaft. My daughter's fingers, the thought sparking a remarkable occurrence, a renewed flow of blood.

Amanda felt it, a slight thickening under her fingers. Arousal bloomed anew as realization set in. He's getting hard, what did I do, how do I do it more? She covered his penis with her hand and felt it grow, thicken, the head slide up her palm, a delicious heat suffused her, pussy clenching, moist arousal building. It's me, I'm doing it. My Daddy. She was amazed as it grew bigger, and bigger, the tip slipping up past the heel of her hand, too big for her small hand to cover. It was hot. It hardened, it pulsed, it throbbed pushing up against her hand.

"Oh, Daddy," she said quietly.

He felt himself inflate at her delicate exploration, grow hard, and lengthen into a full erection, desire unfurl at the thought of his thirteen year old daughter holding his penis in her small soft hand. It reached full straining erectness when he heard her, the wonder and excitement evident when he heard a quiet, "Oh Daddy," inflaming him further. Suddenly he became aware of his hand, still cupping a small buttock, a firm buttock, a young buttock. He let his hand caress gently, lovingly, measuring the curve, the roundness, the steep climb up one side and over, and when his fingers felt the dip into her crease, so deep, and the rise of her other buttock, he groaned, he stopped, you promised echoing in his mind.

Amanda's rapped fascination with this penis under her hand was interrupted as she felt Daddy's hand caress her bottom, erotic chills made her tremble as she felt his fingers dip between her buttocks. When he groaned, she couldn't hold back. Rising, turning, she looked into Daddy's eyes, leaned down and kissed him, tongue teasing his lips, encouraging, inviting. She moved her right leg up and over his body until she felt his erection under her bent knee, moaning at the feeling of his arousal. She nudged her tongue between his lips seeking, finding, entwining with his, her slick hand moving up to feel his chest hair, semen forgotten, passion growing. But his hands, his hands didn't move, caress, feel, probe, or hug. Why?

A memory tugged at her, insistent, 'remember' it demanded, 'think'. She paused, breaking the kiss. A soft voice whispered in her mind, "Your dad is gentle man, Amanda. He won't do anything to give you the wrong idea or even encourage you. If you succeed in arousing him, and you know the signs, he still won't react the way you want him to. You'll have to lead him, let him know what you want, and encourage him."

She pulled away, eyes locked on Daddy's, and slowly, slowly rolled over him, across him. She felt Daddy's erection rub against her stomach, excitement built, fear tickled her mind, its size against her stomach hinting at how deep it would go. How could it possibly fit? She stretched out on her back next to him, still under the covers. She looked at him, unexpectedly shy, reached for his large hand, warm hand, and brought it up to her small breast.

"Like this, Daddy. Please?" she whispered.

As he touched her breast for the first time, he groaned, his promise fading, melting, sorry Sara, it's too much to ask.

The feel of Amanda's body against his as she slithered across him, sharp nipples leaving a trail of heat on his chest, soft, silky soft stomach so erotic against his erection, the feel of her new breast in the palm of his hand, youthfully firm, tight nipple, all inflaming his desire, her soft whisper, "Like this, Daddy," crumbling the last of his weakened resistance.

He turned towards his daughter, saw love burning in her green hypnotic eyes.

"I love you," he whispered before his lips touched hers, softly, chastely, a new beginning. He watched her eyes close. Small warm lips slowly parted, the tip of her tongue on his lips, hands sliding up his back, arms embracing, tightening, pulling, urging. Tongues touched, explored tentatively, sliding against each other, excitement growing. He caressed her small breast, thumb rasping across her stiff nipple, she groaned, pulled at him harder. Her leg pushed against him, hand trailing down to his waist. He watched her eyes open, watched her end the kiss. Her hand pressed against his waist, leg burrowing under his. Deep pools of green filled his vision as he heard her whisper.

"Like this, Daddy."

Desire flared brightly, erection throbbed, lubrication seeped.

She saw it in his eyes, deep blue, darkening, pupils dilating, resistance crumbling, a thrill of anticipation charged through her body, her whisper the final straw. Her clitoris hardened as he moved over her, his weight, Daddy's weight pressing sensually on her, nipples tightening at the touch of his chest. Blue eyes stared into her soul, reassuring, comforting, love, intense love shining and easing her fear, her fear of what she so desperately wanted, fear of the cost, the pain. She hugged him. Closer, please, closer. Passion built with his kiss, grownup kiss, tongue thrusting into her mouth, dueling, assaulting her. She moaned, heat blossoming between her legs, the soles of her feet rising to rub his calves, thighs touching him. My Daddy. More, please more. His lips released her as he moved up, looming above her, so big. Passion burst inside as she felt him, his arousal, Daddy's erection nestled against her labia. Her pussy clenched, moisture flowed. She looked up at his face and fear welled inside, his eyes, his eyes, narrow pin prick pupils, unfocused, glazed.

He felt her slight body under him, so petite, so delicate, so young. Yes, yes. His erection pulsed with sexual need, weeping precum as he felt her small hard nipples against his chest. He had to kiss her, his daughter, he had to. Tongue thrust into her small mouth, forceful, probing, a promise long forgotten. Lust roared into him fogging his mind when she moaned. He reared up above her small body, head bent staring at this small child below him, petite, small breasted, pubescent, virginal. The touch of his raging erection to her pussy inflaming, eyes unfocused imagining, visualizing his huge penis against small, tightly closed labia. A whisper in his mind became a shout, a yell. What was it saying, why was it interrupting? Not now! I need to thrust! I need, I NEED! Then he heard it, the voice, a woman's voice, Sara's voice, "Sean, she's thirteen. She's a virgin. If she wants to have intercourse you'll have to be careful about how far you go. Girls don't fully mature until they are fifteen or older. Just be gentle and let her lead."

Oh God! Sanity returned, calming him, restraining him. His eyes cleared, he saw Amanda, fear in her eyes, his daughter, fear, fear of him!

"Oh Amanda," he whispered softly, lowering himself to her gently.

She watched his eyes clear, focus return, seeing her again. She watched love displace feverish lust in those deep blue eyes, pupils restored, and her fear melted away when he whispered her name with love, with compassion. She smiled, my Daddy, and felt his comforting weight on her. She reached for his face, so handsome, cupping it, pulling it.

"Daddy," she whispered, and kissed him. Her eyes closed, she sighed as his tongue touched her lips, and opened her mouth to him, arousal rekindled. He's so gentle, yes, like this, she thought as her tongue came out to play, tease and retreat, luring his back into her. Her hand slipped down between them searching, reaching, eyes popping open, wide open as she held it, big, much bigger now. My Daddy's penis. The thought sent arousal storming through her, nipples hardening again, deliciously tight. She urged him closer, a gentle tug, guiding him, gasping when it touched her, hot.

"Like this Daddy," she whispered.

Sean felt that erotic jolt return when he heard Amanda whisper, "Daddy," and realized this was more about her than him. He let her lead, let her initiate the kiss, a sexy kiss, the right way, her way, soft, tentative, playfully sexy. His erection strained anew as he felt her hand slip along his stomach, lifting himself to ease her passage. Oh yes, he thought. He restrained the groan of delight when she touched him, and held him, throbbing, as she led him towards heaven. His gasp drowned out hers when the warmth of her labia touched the end of his penis, almost cumming as he heard his daughter whisper again, "Like this Daddy." A shudder shook him.

He pushed, gently, feeling the head flatten against her lips, going nowhere, and backed off. He felt his daughter glide the crown of his erection up her cleft, a tremble in her hips, followed by the unbelievable sensation of labia spreading, hugging, warmth and, suddenly, wetness as she nestled him against her opening, so tiny against him. His body shook, sexual passion, need, coursing through him. Slowly, slowly, he reminded himself, tamping down the fever within. He pushed, his flared head flattening again, too big for her, yet he kept pushing, gentle, waiting for her, waiting.

It started slowly, almost unnoticeable at first, the slightest dilation, stretching, hymen stressed to breaking point, dilating more, his erection feeling the heat inside her luring him in, and then, in an instant, his mind was bombarded, Amanda crying out, she hugging him tighter, warmth, no, heat surrounded the helmet, tight, tight, squeezing, oh God, oh God, I'm in her, I'm in my daughter!

She felt him push and frustration bloomed, too tight, she thought then NO! rang through her mind as he pulled away. She urged him forward, her hand still holding his hard penis, sliding it over her lips, a trail of lubrication left behind. When it scraped across her hard clitoris, hips twitched upward seeking more, desire morphed into lust as her labia parted and his penis, Daddy's penis slipped down, down, near, nearer, there, yes there! Push Daddy, push. Arousal flared, she felt herself stretching, stretching, I can do this, and cried out, desperately clutching Daddy, as pain ripped through her, blackness hovered, then slowly dissipated. She felt him stretching her tightly. She felt him throbbing rhythmically. So good, more, I want more Daddy. She tilted her hips, a slight move, his erection slipping in just a little bit, no pain, only a dull ache, a dull ache that changed, now an ache for more. She gasped as she felt him penetrate deeply in one smooth stroke, deep, deep, deeper until she was full, wonderfully full.

"Oh, Daddy."

Breath rushed in and out through his nose and he felt light headed as he held himself lodged just inside her, waiting, waiting for her, so close again, a climax forming, thunder clouds on the horizon. Then finally he felt her move, felt her push just a little, but enough. Hands under her shoulders holding her, cherishing his baby, her gift to him, her father, as he pushed forward sliding, deep, tight, oh so tight, a velvet sheath slipping down his shaft, hot, moist, so good. In his mind's eye he pictured her labia stretched around his shaft, lips folding inwards as he sank into her, deeper, deeper, silky vaginal walls parting, reluctantly admitting the flared head, deeper. A shudder shook his body when his penis touched her cervix, breath whooshing out of his now open mouth, and he stopped.

Her cry, "Oh, Daddy," so different this time, full of joy, of wonderment, of love, drew his eyes to her face. Light, excitement, and yes love, shining bright green. He smiled, his Amanda, his daughter, so sweet, so sexy, so desirable. He kissed her, lightly, lips together, mouth closed, a kiss of love, of understanding, of thanks. He waited. This was for her.

Her heart thumped in her chest, his kiss so good, so caring. She felt the fullness of him, pulsing, throbbing, full, she felt full, she felt wonderfully full, my Daddy. She squeezed down, thrilled when his erection responded deep in her, and squeezed again, harder, arousal flooding her when he groaned.

She gasped as he withdrew feeling empty, a loss, then growled as he slid back in, deep. Pleasure exploded as his pelvis touched her clitoris, she grabbed him hard.

"More, Daddy, again."

Her hips could no longer remain still, straining upwards to meet him, pushing against him, bumping her clitoris into him, passion burning. She felt his hands cup her buttocks and pull her into his thrusts, faster, faster, good, so good. Her climax rose, loomed, nearer with every thrust.

"Yes, yes, yes," she whispered with each deep firm thrust, and finally, finally her orgasm crested, rhythmic hip movements becoming jerks. Thighs tightened, legs wrapped, arms clutched, and, as she heard him call her name, as his body shudder on top of her, she felt Daddy's hot semen gush deep within her, and pleasure exploded, exquisite pleasure, blinding pleasure, white hot fire, pulsing, writhing through her, so strong she thought she'd die, crying out, "Daddy! Daddy!"

He couldn't hold back, her growl, yes growl, inflamed him, she likes, my baby likes. Her hips urged him, pushed against him, curling up off the bed, and he couldn't wait any longer, grabbing her small bottom, pulling, thrusting, hard, faster, climax building, so tight, so small, my daughter. But it was a sound, so quiet he had to strain to hear, Amanda whispering, "yes, yes, yes," in time with his thrusting that took him over the edge. "Oh God, Amanda, baby," he gasped. Eyes squeezed shut, his toes curled, testicles tightened, penis expanded and semen exploded, jetting out, hot, thick, wet, deep into his little girl, painful, exquisite release, again and again, stomach straining as he thrust, spurted, thrust, spurted, gasping with the strain until it slowed, eased, toes uncurled, calm returned, peace.

As his breath returned to normal, his waning erection comfortably snug in her vagina, he rose onto his elbows and looked down at his daughter, not sure what to expect. She surprised him. Her eyes opened, sparkling green, beautiful, and gave him a cheeky grin.

"Gooood. That was good, Daddy," then giggled.

He felt it all the way down to his penis, giggling causing her vagina to clench and expel him. He couldn't help chuckling, her reaction so unexpected. Rolling off her petite form he lay at her side, arm slipping under her neck, around her back, pulling her close. In that post-orgasmic state, where one feels relaxed, drained and at peace, with his daughter's head on his shoulder, body snuggled to his side, her knee over his leg, and the feel of her little breasts pressed to his side, pudenda pressed against his hip, he asked her the question that had drifted through his mind for almost two weeks.

"So, when did you first know?"

"Know what, Daddy?"

"When did you know about me, about seeing me as more than just your dad?"

She nestled closer to him, her fingers playing with his chest hair, soft. "Nine," she said. "I was nine, it was my birthday. You swept me up into your arms, twirled me around and hugged me. Your eyes were sparkling when you smiled. But the exact moment was when you brushed my hair aside and kissed me on my neck, right below my ear. That was it."

"Really?" He didn't remember doing that at all.

"Uh-huh. That was what I started dreaming about at night."

Amanda continued, telling Daddy everything, how she dreamed of him when she'd touch herself, how her first orgasm was with him in her mind, how she wanted so much but was afraid, afraid of how wrong her feeling were, afraid he wouldn't like her or her body with no breasts, no pubic hair, no shape or curves, so immature. About how excited she was when her breasts started growing and the first pubic hair appeared. How she began to dream of him being her first, of her chats with Mom, her first attempts at attracting him, and the things Mom told her, taught her, the guidance, her acceptance and encouragement, and more. Everything except for a dream she had in a motel room one snowy night; that memory cherished, just for her.

Sean was bemused. Her story of sexual awakening sounded so much like Sara's, and as the full extent his wife's machinations were revealed, he smiled, a sneaky smile. Boy was he going to get her for that. But, perhaps most of all, he was floored by how long Amanda had been attracted to him. He'd never seen it, never interpreted her signals. Man what a dunce you are, he thought.

He looked down at his daughters head resting on his chest, used his index finger under her chin to tilt her head. Looking deeply into her eyes he told her he loved her, kissed her softly on her lips, and then reaching out, turned the lamp on the bedside table off.

They slept, daughter snuggled against Daddy, at peace, finally. My Daddy.

"Andy, it's really Okay," Sara reassured him gently. "I really liked it." She knew she couldn't say anything about how sweet it was, or how she had engineered it, a sure way of shaming him. So she decided to boost his ego. "You've grown a lot," and with a little smile, "at least it felt that way to me."

Andy felt the embarrassment ebb as Mom talked. She really seemed sincere, as though she meant it. He couldn't help grinning when she told him he was growing.

"Thanks, Mom. I'm sorry. I was dreaming. I never would have . . ."

Sara touched a finger to his lips, hushing him. She smiled.

"Don't explain, Andy. You did nothing wrong, nothing to ever be ashamed of." Then turning, she left the bed to get them a couple of warm wash cloths.

Andrew watched his mom as she went to the bathroom, admiring the subtle movements of her buttocks under her night shirt. Hmmm, he thought, you're not as embarrassed as you thought buster, but immediately flushed red when he noticed the wet spot on mom's night shirt, right above the cheeks of her ass.

Sara cleaned herself in the bathroom, knowing that cleaning herself in front of her son, at this point, would only embarrass him further. Yet she had plans, plans to overcome his embarrassment, draw him out slowly. She needed for Andrew to become an active participant, even an instigator in this developing relationship.

After handing Andrew the moist towel, she studiously avoided looking at him as he cleaned himself under the covers. He turned, his back towards her. She let her hand rest against his back to maintain contact and drifted to sleep, satisfied with the day's progress.

Andrew's eyes opened, a stiff morning erection pressed hard to the mattress. In that first moment of awakening, that twilight period where dreams and reality coexist, he hunched his hips to slide his penis between the soft pillows nestling him. Reality stole in, shoving dreams aside, and his eyes opened wide, memory, cumming, Mom! His heart rate accelerated. With a quick glance across the bed, seeing his mothers outline under the covers with her back to him, he left the bed, pajamas tented, shivering at the coolness of the room. In the bathroom, under a warming shower, he soaped his morning erection and let memories of the night induce a climax, semen splashing the tiles as he groaned in sweet release.

The shake of the bed as Andrew rose woke Sara. She smiled as the senses and feelings from last night played through her mind, warmth blossoming in her lower stomach. The sound of the shower brought her alert and she shivered as she rose to close the window and turn up the thermostat. She grinned, a mischievous grin, as she remembered her plans for the day, for Andrew. Start slow, build, tease, and tempt. How far would he go? she wondered. The sound of the bathroom door opening brought her out of her musings, Andrew emerging fully dressed.

"Hi, Mom." His smile was tentative, a little shy, uncertain, not knowing how to behave with her after last night. But her warm motherly smile eased his worries.

"Morning, Andy. What time do we need to be at the arena?"

"9:30."

"Then I'd better hustle if we want breakfast first."

Why are they so attractive, Andrew wondered watching Mom's buttocks moving under her night shirt as she walked to the bathroom, clothes in hand. Why Mom? He sat on the bed waiting for her, comparing asses, Janice, Emma Roberts, Gemma Ward, Mom. Mom's wasn't the firmest or the slimmest, but damn if it wasn't the sexiest, he decided. But there was something else, something that he felt inside, that seemed to have a direct connection to arousal. He couldn't stop his body reacting, independent of his thoughts, as though it was pushing him, telling him something. He just couldn't figure out what.

Andrew watched his mom emerge from the bathroom. Snug, straight leg jeans, sneakers, another silky, modest top, no makeup, and damp red waves pulled into a ponytail, something viscerally moving within him at the sight.

"Let's go." She smiled, held out her hand to Andrew. "Breakfast. You need fuel for today."

Sara took it slow with Andrew. Her plan was to build through the day, intensify his interest, give Andrew subtle signals that she may be receptive, and see where it took them. At the morning soccer game she hooted, hollered, booed, and whistled at Andrew's every possession, her Irish flamboyance irrepressible. While Andrew didn't score, a single late goal meant the Hornets would progress to the afternoon round.

At lunch she reassured Andrew that his efforts were critical to the teams win, her hand on his arm, staring deeply into his light blue eyes. She took every opportunity to touch him, hug him, complement him, and stroke his ego. Little things, a comment on his developing thigh muscles when he was in his soccer shorts, brushing dirt off the back of his thigh after the game, her brushing just short of a caress, little things, acting together, accumulating in his subconscious, building, and taking root.

She saw success as Andrew increasingly ignored the girls attending the tournament, in the slight flush exertion couldn't explain away, in his touch, softer as the day progressed, hand resting on her shoulder as she bent to clean dirt off his thigh, a gentle rub as his hand rested against her lower back, guiding her through a crowd.

Andrew felt great all day Saturday. He was pleased with his play on the field, disappointed he hadn't scored in the morning or afternoon game, but the Hornets were through to the final two rounds on Sunday. But what made his day was Mom. He'd catch sight of her on the sidelines as he raced down the field, the images of flaming red hair, pretty face animated as she hooted and hollered in support imprinted in his mind. Her total attention to him made him feel warm inside and her enthusiastic support brought out a sense of pride. But as the day wore on, he began to understand that his love for his mom was changing, evolving.

It coalesced as they sat at a café late in the afternoon, Mom with her latte, he with his apple juice, nutrition and electrolytes needing replacement from the day's strenuous activities. He was watching her face not hearing what she was talking about, simply enjoying the animation, the brightness of her, her dark green eyes sparkling, alive with intelligence and wit, her mouth, the shape of her lips, the way they moved and smiled, looking so soft, so sexy, so kissable, her small white teeth flashing as she laughed. He felt it inside, a warmth in his heart, love. And with startling clarity he knew it was more. At that moment he understood he was falling in love, falling in love with this woman across from him, his mother!

He felt no embarrassment, no flush of heat in his cheeks. He wasn't ashamed. She was a gorgeous woman, alive, vibrant, cheeky, hot tempered, and yet soft, petite, curvy, attractive, alluring, and desirable. He felt his penis waken from its slumber as he looked at his mom with new eyes, a desire unfurling within. Memories slipped into his mind, her soft voice, "I really liked it." She said she liked it, he realized. He wondered. He thought. And he decided.

Sara noticed a change in Andrew late in the day. He became animated, relaxed; he laughed with her. He seemed to lose the awkwardness that comes with youthful pubescence, to grow before her eyes. He paid attention to her, eyes bright, genuine enjoyment expressed, and he instigated, suggesting activities, places to see, plans for dinner. A warm thrill heated her as she recognized the subtle signs of seduction, her nipples tingled. Oh my.

She let him lead, careful to respond subtly, never rebuff, smile sweetly at his small attentions, ask his opinion as she selected clothes for dinner, and stopped teasing, no longer needed. Little things, pushing back against his hand resting on her lower back, a barely heard mmm when he hugged her, more a vibration felt in the chest than an audible signal, a soft kiss at the edge of his mouth to thank him for a compliment on her looks, all the little things, carefully planned and executed that communicate almost on a subconscious level.

And as the evening progressed, a comfortable, relaxed relationship grew, from outward appearance a mother and son enjoying each other, but a tension built underneath, unseen, the tension of attraction, of anticipation, of desire. One last hurdle remained, a final crack in the wall, an overt move that had to occur, needed in order for tension to transform into action and release them from the restrictions of social mores.

It was the wisdom of maturity that achieved it. As the door to their room closed, Sara turned, her back to her son, looked over her shoulder, intensity in her eyes.

"Could you get the zipper, Andy?"

He moved towards his mom, admiring her shape, her dress, a simple A-line accentuating the right parts. Arousal stirred as his hands rested gently on her shoulders, it intensified at the sound of the zipper he was undoing, so suggestive. His nostrils flared as light floral perfume filled his senses, familiar, Mom. His hand reached the base of her back, right at the sexy outward sweep of her bottom. With a deep breath, butterflies in his stomach, praying, he reached up and slipped the dress over her shoulders. It fell to the floor in a quiet swoosh. Time froze.

She turned slowly, a smile on her lips, lacy white bra, glowing green eyes looking so deeply into him. Her hands slid up his shirt, cupped his face and, oh Lord, she pulled him down towards her, her head tilting to the left, eyes, green eyes, whirlpools drawing him in. He felt her warm soft lips touch his. He moaned, eyes closing, wrapping his mom in his arms, pulling her to him, the build-up, the anticipation of the day bursting within. No, no don't stop!

Sara broke the kiss, so nice, thrillingly illicit, just a promise, lips closed, and stepped back seeing Andrew's eyes open, his surprise evident and arousal clear in the flush of his face, the speed of his breath. She smiled.

"Clothes," she said softly.

She watched understanding grow in his eyes, his grin, cheeky, adorable, and heat suffused her, dampness starting. Young, virgin, ooh, my son, she thought. She watched his slim fingers unbutton his shirt slowly, almost teasingly. Hunger grew as his bare chest was revealed, hairless, deltoids defined, but youth, oh youth. Her eyes moved down, flat stomach, abs just hinted at under bare skin. She looked up, smiled, encouraged, and her nipples tightened as his hands dropped to his belt, as he opened it. She held her breath as his fingers opened the top of his pants, anticipation blooming at the sound of his zipper, pants falling to the floor and, oh, the smallest trace of baby soft dark hair at the waist of his underwear, a prelude to pubic hair hidden from sight, and his arousal starkly outlined; dampness seeped into the gusset of her panties. My son's erection.

His mom reached out, taking his hand in hers and led him to the bed, turned and slipped under the covers, a teasing peek of red hair at the crotch of white bikini panties, revealed as her legs separated briefly only to disappear under the covers. His erection throbbed, hard, so hard. He slipped under the covers reaching for her, my mom. Passion flared as her lips touched his, the tip of a small, hot tongue probing. He moaned as he opened his mouth, as her tongue touched his, eyes clamped shut, picturing. Hands trembled as he felt for the clasp of her bra and moaned in frustration as he wrestled with its unfamiliar mechanism. She broke the kiss. His eyes opened. He saw Mom smiling, he felt her hand pushing his out of the way, and heard a snap. He watched intrigued as she wiggled, as she moved, and flushed when he saw her toss bra and panties on top of the covers, precum leaking at the image of his mom, naked, under the sheets, so close.

"You too."

Her soft whisper shocked him into action. He pushed his underwear down using his feet to push it deep, free of his legs. Worry set in, what do I do now, he wondered, a needless wonder as Mom took his hand, rolling on her back.

"Like this," she whispered and his had touched her breast for the first time.

Oh, so warm, silky soft skin, still mounded and firm, weighty, wonderful. The touch of a hard nipple in his palm induced a groan, precum dripping, fire burning inside. He explored, carefully, unsure, inexperienced.

Sara felt her excitement grow as her son touched her breast, nipples hardening, swelling, her arousal building. But she also felt his hesitations, his inexperience showing, and she realized her satisfaction might have to take a back seat, he needed tutoring, guidance. She knew she needed to take time and teach him, the reward, a better lover in the future. Above all, she needed to be careful, he'll be on a hair trigger so she couldn't take too long the first time. The first time, the thought, so sensual, exciting, her son, a virgin, vigorous, surely capable of more than once?

Andrew's fierce concentration on his mom's breast was interrupted as she slipped her arm under him. He felt her hand urging him to move, she smiled encouraging, and as he moved over her, slipping between her silky thighs, her heard her whisper.

"Like this."

Lust surged within, his penis feeling bigger than it ever had before. But it kept getting better, the warmth of Mom's breasts against his chest, the feel of her thighs cradling his hips, her feet on his calves, and oh God, the touch of her hand holding him, guiding him, leading him, a warm hand making him throb painfully. Breath rasped. Calm down, he tried to tell himself, and for just a minute he thought he might succeed.

But then, then he felt Mom's pubic hair tickle the tip of his erection and warm flesh kissing it, sliding against him, warm moist, slippery, oh, oh. Feverish lust burned inside, close, too close.

"Like this," she whispered pulling him deeper, guiding him, hand on his hip pulling, urging.

And when he felt flesh parting, felt himself sinking, hot velvet clasping, and he realized he was in his mom's vagina, he was fucking his mom, it was too much.

"Oh Mom!" he cried out, thrusting forward, cum bursting, orgasm crashing. He thrust again hard, her moist heat engulfing him, he swelled, spurt, cum blasting, intensity, glorious pleasure, he thrust, pulsed, thrust, pulsed.

"Oh God, Mom," he cried out, cumming hard in her, spurting, thrusting desperately in his first sexual experience. He collapsed, panting, sweat-covered, dizzy.

Sara felt him, smaller than Sean, but still substantial, hard, stiff, pulsing in her hand as she guided him into her, a delicious thrill coursing through her as she realized she was taking her son's virginity. Then, as she whispered, "Like this," she wasn't surprised when Andrew cried out, thrust into her and she felt the warmth of his semen deposited inside, as she felt his erection expand, thicken, then pulse again, more wetness, hot, her son's semen, erotic, exciting.

"Yes, Andy," she whispered holding him tightly.

His movements sped up, hot wetness with each thrust until, finally, too quickly, she felt his weight as he collapsed on her. She hadn't achieved a climax, hadn't expected to, not the first time; this was Andrews time. But as she felt him shrink inside her vagina, she smiled. Oh, Andrew, you have so much to learn, she though, excited by the prospect of showing him, of teaching him.

Sara gently moved Andrew off to her side, waiting for his breathing to calm, watching his face, flushed, dark hair damp against his brow. She admired his growing handsomeness, the long dark lashes, his father's nose, and the bow of his lips so attractive. She waited, feeling warm semen, her son's semen, as it leaked slowly dripping between her buttocks. It fed her excitement, strengthened her unsated arousal. Semen gushed when she clamped her legs together, the pressure on her clitoris inducing a clench in her vagina. She needed more, needed the sweet release of a climax. But her plan wasn't finished. Andrew had to be comfortable with her, with her nakedness, comfortable to explore, discover, and taste. He had to be comfortable with his nakedness and with showing his arousal. Sara had planned for that, too.

Andrew felt Mom's hand on his shoulder, a gentle shake rousing him from bliss.

"Andy, honey."

He opened his eyes, Mom looking, love shining.

"Let's shower."

He watched her rise and walk towards the bathroom, the movement of her beautiful bottom beguiling.

"Come on," she urged, disappearing through the door.

He rose, still flaccid. But excitement stirred in his mind. Mom, naked in the shower, mmm. As he entered the doorway his penis twitched, the first sign of youthful recovery. Oh Mom, he thought as he saw her slightly bent at the waist adjusting the water temperature, ass rounded, deep crease, and a peek of her bushy red pubic hair between her thighs. He felt the stirring morph into thickening as he imagined nestling his groin against her.

He saw her look back at him, still slightly bent at the waist, a gleam in her green eyes, and he knew. She had done it on purpose, set a stage for his pleasure.

Sara saw Andrew grin cheekily at her carefully planned display. She saw his penis, for the first time, and watched it broaden with the renewed flow of blood. Yes, like father like son, she thought. With a deep breath she stood, turned, and faced Andrew exposing herself fully to his gaze, watching, studying, looking for a sign. Yes, there it was. Light blue eyes opening wider, pupils dilating, gaze moving from her breasts to her pussy, and his penis elongating, growing. His excitement fuelled hers, his evident appreciation stirring pride.

Andrew was frozen in place. The beauty, the allure of his mom's body took his breath away. It was better, so much better than he had imagined. Petite, firm, slim, small full breasts but more, sexy curves of maturity, skin that looked as soft as silk, dusky pink areolae with surprisingly large erect nipples, and breasts that sat proudly, a weightiness adding sensual curves underneath, curves he wanted to touch. He felt arousal stir stronger as he looked at the red bush between her legs, thick, soft, curly pubic hair with hinting at treasures underneath. Oh Mom. His erection was now fully restored. He didn't care, didn't think about it. He simply stared at this sensual woman before him.

Sara turned and stepped into the shower, looked at Andrew expectantly until he moved forward, almost zombie-like. Pulling the shower curtain closed, mother and son showered together, hands washing each other, exploring new territory, tentatively feeling, and familiarity growing. Hidden secrets and sensitive places were touched lightly, teasingly, and familiarity grew into comfort, ease, and slowly into heightened passion.

As Sara led Andrew to the bed, she felt her arousal in the tingling of her hard nipples, the wetness between her labia as they rubbed against each other, her clitoris tingling. She lay on the bed, looked into Andrews heated eyes as he stood at the side of the bed with an erection straining at a forty-five degree angle almost pointing towards the ceiling. She smiled as she spread her ankles slightly, suggesting what she wanted. Blood rushed to her groin as she watched her son move over her, slip between her legs, pushing them apart with his knees, his erection hard, pulsing. Heat flushed through her, her vagina clenching in anticipation as he lowered himself, his blue eyes feverish.

She raised her knees welcoming him, cradling him, and gasped at the touch of his penis, as it slipped erotically up through her labia, rasping against her hard clitoris. Now, I need it now.

She reached down and gripped him, warm, throbbing in her hand, guiding him down, groaning as it slipped against her entrance.

"Like this," she whispered, releasing him.

And, as her son's weight pressed against her body, with her hands holding his buttocks, she felt that first exquisite sensation of stretching, of a penis squeezing into her, stretching her. My son, she thought. Passion flared brightly as the stretching suddenly passed, as she felt her vaginal opening slip over the ridge to seal itself against his hard shaft, the head of her son's penis throbbing inside her.

"Oh, Andy, yes. Like that," she whispered, pulling on his buttocks, her desperate need for release building. And, oh, oh, that glorious feeling of his penis sliding in, deeper, filling, hot, her eyes tightly shut, her whole world focused on the sensations inside, his erection sliding in, and at last, his pelvis pushing against her clitoris. My son. Too much, too much. Need burned.

She curled her hips to meet him, pulled back, then thrust up pulling him into her again, faster, faster, panting, close, so close, faster, until he was thrusting into her gloriously deep. Her heart pounded and she felt it, a tickle in her mind, pressure in her groin growing, mushrooming, and finally bursting. Her climax, so long awaited for, crashed into her. Her vagina contracted, clamped, her chest flushed red, and lights went off behind her closed eyes as she felt her son spurting into her, filling her with his seed.

"Oh God, Yes," burst out uncontrollably as she rode the waves of her orgasm hunching violently up against her son, hunching, fucking, fucking, God cumming, until at last peace stole back, exhaustion and satisfaction flowed, breath calmed, and she became aware of her son heavy on her, comfortingly heavy. She sighed. Like that, she thought, smiling.

Sean woke, Saturday morning, early, sun rising, with a soft presence next to him, warm, breathing. Memory returned. Sweet, exciting memories, memories he wanted to explore, relive. But a full bladder called, stronger, more urgent, in need of attention. He slipped out of bed, careful not to disturb Amanda, and closed the bathroom door quietly, his morning ritual taking over.

Still naked as a jail bird he opened the bathroom door. He paused in the doorway admiring Amanda asleep in his bed. Not having had the opportunity or presence of mind to inspect his daughter's body last night, he did now, the voyeuristic thrill tantalizing him.

She was flat on her back, the corner of the quilt across her stomach, with her head turned to the side, a halo of red hair spread across the pillow. He studied this naked little nymph, his thirteen year old nymph; incredibly pretty face, so innocent in sleep, so much younger in sleep, with long red lashes against lightly freckled cheeks, petite Roman nose and perfect lips, just like her mother only smaller, daintier. His eyes drifted down to her small pubescent breasts made smaller by her prone position, seeing rosy areolae and soft little nipples, the gentle rise and fall of her breathing added a fascinating movement to those attractive mounds. He imagined sucking them into his mouth, feeling the entire breast in his mouth, mmm.

Down further, over her quilt-covered stomach her hips rose like twin peaks, her bottom slightly flattened against the mattress adding seductive shape and curves. Her mons so beautiful, prominent and mounded, its peak dusted with red pubic hairs, straight pubic hairs still soft and uncurled by approaching maturity, the dimple of her cleft a shadow, a line sweeping down, disappearing, suggestive. He looked at her legs, one knee bent slightly, slim thighs, firm and toned, well shaped knees, and slim calves, small ankles, petite feet, little toes. Gorgeous, simply gorgeous; my little girl so perfect.

As he moved to the bottom of the bed, Amanda rolled onto her front, hands sliding up under the pillow, quilt falling aside, still asleep.

He felt the beginning stir of arousal, that delicious moment when your brain starts releasing endorphins but your body hasn't reacted. As he looked at her small shoulders and the downward sweep of her slim back, shoulder blades outlined, the ripple and curve of her spine drew his eyes down. His breath caught in his throat as he studied her small bottom, the majestic upsweep from her tiny waist, the two perfect globes of her buttocks, a shadowy valley teasing with promises. But, oh, the best, the very best was just below. Her buttocks swept down to meet her thighs, no crease, too young. But darkness tantalized, dark shadows hinted at delights between her legs, and his imagination took flight bringing light to the view and a thickening at his groin, the first physical manifestation of his arousal.

She stirred, head turned, eyes opened. She looked at him, her green eyes penetrating, baring him, reading his thoughts and desires. Her eyes trailed down his nakedness, he could almost feel their passage, down his chest and stomach. Eyes glinted, and a mischievous smile curled her lips as she observed his growing tumescence, as it inflated, extended, and began to rise under the heat of her gaze. Eyes moved back up his body languorously until she was staring into his eyes, a glint, a tease in hers. He throbbed as she spoke.

"Again, Daddy?" Then she slowly moved her straight legs apart slightly, a little twinkle in her eyes. "Like this, Daddy. Please?"

A full erection bloomed, hard, painful, he inhaled sharply. Oh yes, oh yes.

Sean moved to the bed and started by stroking the backs of her legs, feeling her silky satin skin unblemished by a need to shave. As his hands moved up over the back of her thighs he heard her murmuring, almost purring, spurring him on. His eyes were riveted to the sight of her buttocks where they melted into her crotch, and the intensely erotic view of her pussy, labia firmly closed, shadows only suggesting, hinting, a little dimple at the confluence of her labia.

As he shuffled up, his knees spread her legs wider, his hands reaching her buttocks. At first he caressed, lost in the shape, feel, and texture of her small bottom. But, as arousal built, he started massaging, squeezing, his daughter's murmurs evolving into moans. It didn't take long before his moan joined hers, an inadvertent expression of the lustful joy that filled him when his hands spread her glorious buttocks, and her anus emerged from the shadowed depth, her labia red and swollen slowly parting to reveal her tiny vaginal opening and below, her clitoral hood, red plump. He desperately wanted to dive in, to taste, to lick and bring pleasure, but her offer had lit a fire within him. He couldn't wait.

As he slipped his hands up her back his body followed, bending over her small form, getting closer, his penis throbbing. Pleasure radiated through him as his weeping erection nestled into her, his groan reciprocated, her hips twitching up, pushing, pushing her bottom against his groin.

"Oh, Daddy."

Amanda couldn't hold back her groan when she felt Daddy's penis touch her pussy lips, nor the involuntary twitch of her hips as her body responded to the sensations assaulting her. She felt Daddy against her bottom then his wonderful, sensual weight as he settled against her back, pressing hard nipples into the mattress. When she heard him, a soft, "oh," she thought, you have no idea, Daddy. But when he slipped his hand down under her stomach, over her mons and touched her clitoris she couldn't believe it when the familiar first stirrings of an orgasm started. He's not even in me!

"Hurry, Daddy."

Sean was lost. Head bent down, sweet girl scent in his nose, so petite her head barely reached his chin. He was lost in sensations, delicious, erotic sensations; his daughter's bottom rhythmically clenching against him, the feel of her pubescent mound in his hand, soft and plump, the hardness of her clitoris tickling the pad of his finger, his little girl's moisture, silky, slippery, and the feel of his erection edging between her labia.

But it was her accelerated breathing heard and felt in his chest and her whisper, "Hurry Daddy," that had him close to cumming before he'd even penetrated her.

He urgently started to push and felt her vagina dilate slowly, his second favourite feeling in the world, the feeling of first penetration, the tightness reluctantly parting, expanding and squeezing him as it slipped over the crown of his penis, of the sudden release of pressure as the crown seated itself in hot velvety softness, of the vaginal opening gripping his shaft tightly. He heard Amanda.

"Yes, Daddy," she hissed.

Hunger blossomed, he pushed, a silky hot glove slipping down his shaft, tight, still incredibly tight. His hands sneaked under her arms, gripped her shoulders, pulling her down as he thrust, withdrew, and thrust again, long, deep strokes, so close, sooo good. My daughter.

He felt his orgasm rushing towards him, and battled to hold it at bay. Please not yet, not yet. As he felt Amanda's vagina clench, release, and clench again, her bottom jerking back at him as she emitted little "uh, uh, uh" sounds, he relaxed, and gave up the battle. Fucking her deeply his testicles tightened, penis swelled, and he thrust hard into her, pleasure exploded as cum jetted out, deep inside his daughter, erection sealed against her cervix, flooding her immature womb. He withdrew, moaned loudly and thrust into her tight vagina, hard, deep, exploding, pure bliss, thrusting, exploding, thrusting, and exploding, God cumming! His stomach cramped and toes curled as he rode his orgasm all the way and further, all the way to dry heaves. Eventually, exhausted, he calmed, gasping.

"Amanda," slipped quietly from his lips.

Amanda tried so hard to make it good for Daddy, wanted so much to last longer, extend his pleasure, but his penis, oh his penis, as it stretched her, as it squeezed into her, as it penetrated, so deep, there, right where the itch was, as it stroked her, filling her, excited her, she had trouble holding back. When he pulled her shoulders, penetrating deep inside her, hitting the very deepest part of her, she lost, she climaxed, not slowly building in intensity, but explosively, immediately overwhelmed, pure pleasure joining pure love, shaking her, tearing through her body. She felt hotness flood her, Daddy's semen, burning, filling her, tears leaked from her eyes. Oh Daddy yes, she thought as the assault crested and ebbed, her body relaxing, releasing her to breathe again.

She stirred eventually, puzzled, seeking answers.

"Daddy?"

Sean gently lifted himself from her, collapsing face down next to her. Green eyes beneath mussed red hair peered at him. He smiled, God she's gorgeous.

"What honey?"

"Is it always that fast?"

He chuckled, amused by her directness, charmed by innocence. "No, sweetheart. No, it's not."

"Then how come it is with us?"

He thought carefully, realizing this was a good opening for a discussion with her, one that probably should have happened last night before things started, or this morning before things started, or now before things started again, he though with a smile.

"Let's get up, wash and get breakfast. We can talk over breakfast. Okay?"

She smiled sweetly, so sweetly. "Okay. Shower?" Green eyes twinkled.

"Yup." He sighed. This'll be interesting.

And as he swung his feet to the floor, he was treated to the unforgettable sight of his thirteen year old daughter running to the bathroom, hand holding her crotch saying, "Wow. You came a lot!" followed by giggles as she disappeared from sight.

God, I love her.

They showered together, playfully washing each other, rubbing bodies as they turned, reached for soap or shampoo, teasing each other lightly, but importantly, inspecting each other.

Amanda thought Daddy's body was to die for; slim hips and broad shoulders the remnants of his college swimming career, his muscles still with definition, but subtle, toned. She was fascinated by his pubic hair, thick, ebony black and shiny becoming softer, duller as it trailed up in a small line almost to his belly button. His chest hair was soft, and sparse. As he shampooed his hair, she washed his bum just to feel it. Firm, muscular cheeks, indents in the sides, nicely shaped, really cute she decided.

Sean was having trouble keeping another erection at bay. He simply couldn't stop staring at Amanda's body, the way the water flowed down and around her perky little breasts, small, espresso-cups, perfectly shaped with the firmness of youth, amazing pink areolae with now soft tiny nipples. As an ass man, he loved her bottom, a miniature Sara, but sleeker, a little more prominent with a deep crack, one he wanted to dive into every time he saw it. In fact, it was this ogling that almost instigated another erection. But when he looked at her pubis he almost changed his mind, thinking perhaps this was his favorite; a plump deliciously desirable peach, just on the cusp of maturity, perfection without a doubt.

Sitting at the kitchen table, cereal bowls in front, spoons clinking, Amanda asked him again, why so fast?

"Was it too fast for you?" he asked.

"Oh no, Daddy, it was great," she said with a small blush. "But the stuff I've read always makes it sound like making love takes a long time."

"Well, how can I put this? Okay. Here's the thing, sweetheart. When you're really excited, sexually turned on, it takes less time to achieve an orgasm. The more excited you are, the shorter the time."

He watched Amanda process that little nugget, saw comprehension dawn, her blush deepen, and a sly grin spread on her face.

"So, if I understand," she said, looking up from under her eyelashes, "you, um, I, um."

"Yes honey, you, um, I um," he said teasingly with a smile. "Yes, I was incredibly turned on. You should know, it was all your fault after all. If I remember correctly you admitted last night to endlessly, mercilessly teasing me all day."

She grinned. "Yah. I did. And it worked!" she added cheekily.

"Boy did it work!"

Her shyness came back. "So Daddy. If I wanted to um, you know, um, maybe make love longer, what should I do?" Now she was fully blushing.

Sean reached across the table, taking her hand in his. "First, Amanda, don't ever be embarrassed by what we've done. You know it was with your Mom's permission. I loved it. It has been one of the most thrilling things I've ever experienced in my life. I love you, as a daughter and, if you wish, as a lover. Whatever you want is what I want."

Amanda, despite Daddy's reassurances was still blushing. It wasn't embarrassment though, it was what he said. He really liked making love to me, and even better, he called me his lover! Goosebumps tickled her arms. Oh yes Daddy, please Daddy.

"Um, I'd like that Daddy. I mean I want us to do more." Now she was blushing furiously.

Sean realized he needed to do something, anything, to help her relax with him, become comfortable with talking openly about their relationship, and he decided to be unconventional. Rising from the table he pulled Amanda to her feet, one hand slipped to her back pulling her close, one finger tilting her face up.

He smiled, gently. "Relax. It's Okay. I love you." And he kissed her, softly, waiting for her, then with more passion as he felt her tongue against his lips, then against his tongue, her arms hugging him tightly, and he tasted Froot Loops. He started laughing, honest to God laughing. Amanda broke the kiss staring at him. Before she could get upset or misinterpret, he told her.

"Amanda, did you know Froot Loops taste much, much better when they come from your mouth? Care to try chocolate?"

"Daddy, really!" she exclaimed in mock disgust. Then she grinned and laughed adding "How about ice cream?"

However unusual the approach was, it worked. Amanda became comfortable with talking about their budding relationship, discussing how things would change and, importantly, what wouldn't change. She didn't blush, or squirm. But Sean was still happy to see the slightest tinge of pink when his daughter asked if they could make love again.

He gave one of the harder answers he'd ever had to give, ranking right up there with firing employees, when he suggested maybe that afternoon, after grocery shopping and chores. And he deserved the pout he received, even though it was faked.

"I'm going to change."

"What? Why? You just got dressed." Sean was confused.

"Daaady. These are my stay-at-home clothes. I can't wear them outside."

Sean watched his daughter disappear through the door, wondering what exactly was wrong with jeans and a tee. And when he saw her come down the stairs in jeans and a tee, he felt totally clueless. But not stupid. He noticed the way her small unfettered breasts moved under the t-shirt and grinned. He'd have to work hard to keep his libido under control. What a wonderful challenge, he thought.

His confusion over appropriate dress according to a thirteen year old only deepened as they drove to the grocery store.

"Dad," she started.

Her grown up name for him when she was serious, he noted.

"I was wearing Levis this morning."

Now he was totally lost. "And what's wrong with Levis?"

"They're not Red Engine."

Well that certainly cleared it up. "What's a Red Engine? And what does that have to do with jeans?"

"Daaaad. It's Red Engine. You know."

Nope. Hadn't a clue. "Um, Amanda, perhaps you could explain it to me a bit better. I have no idea what you're talking about."

"Okay. Red Engine are better than Levis, but not as good as Citizens of Humanity, which are really, really good, but Monarchy have more details so you have to be careful about them. So, obviously Levis are for home."

Well, there you go. Concise, short, sweet, and absolutely useless in clarifying anything, he thought. It wasn't until they got home, after a lengthy dissertation from his daughter that he finally got the idea that these were all some kind of jeans. That apparently they had specific roles in the life of a new teenager. Who knew? Nevertheless, he enjoyed her animation as she tried to explain a simple concept to her slow dad.

By noon, groceries had been unpacked, basic chores had been completed, and sandwiches were being consumed in front of the TV in the den. Amanda cuddled to Daddy's side and got progressively more bored with the Nascar highlight show he had tuned to. I mean, really, how much can you say. It's a bunch of cars. They have four wheels and go around in circles endlessly, she thought. Boooring!

Time for some fun, she decided.

She left Daddy absorbed in his show and headed for her bedroom. Using newly gained experience in the art of seduction, or at least what she had seen to work over the last couple of weeks, she changed, stripping naked, slipping on a plain white, translucent training bra, and plain white bikini panties. She studied herself in the mirror. Still not much on top, she thought, then blushed when she remembered Daddy liked them anyway. Underwear completed, she slipped on a loose, wide neck t-shirt, plain white, thin cotton. She checked herself in the mirror. Satisfied it allowed a hint of her training bra to show through, her mind turned to bottoms. Slacks, jeans, or skirt, she pondered. Then she giggled. She pulled her panties off and a pair of light grey cotton sweats out of a drawer, slipping them on. A final check, yes, exactly right, and walked barefoot to the kitchen.

"Dad!" she yelled to be heard over the sound of roaring engines on the TV. "Do you want a drink? I'm getting one for myself."

"Um, yeah, Honey. A beer would be nice."

She walked into the den, stood just to the side so his view wouldn't be blocked, bent at the waist with his beer in hand.

"Here you go."

As he reached blindly towards her, she grinned mischievously and moved her hand just enough that he missed. As he blithely waved around seeking the bottle, she moved it enough for him to miss each time. Soon she thought, her face becoming neutral. He turned, looked at the beer, took it from her hand, and paused. There you go, she thought as Daddy's blue eyes darkened, and pupils dilated. The simple magic of a plain white training bra, amazing, thanks Mom.

His eyes looked up to her as she straightened.

"Can I sit on your lap, Daddy?" A bit blatant, but what the hell, she decided.

"Um, sure Sweetheart."

She sat on his lap, held his arm around her and cuddled to his shoulder, inhaling Daddy smell deeply. She waited, perhaps five minutes before twisting around to put her Coke on the side table, and then twisted back to cuddle. She waited. There you go, she thought as she felt a bulkiness, a hardness develop beneath her buttock. She smiled a secret little smile.

Sean was dead meat, led to the slaughter house by a huge ring in his nose. At first he didn't realize it, absorbed in his show as he reached blindly for the beer. But somehow he couldn't find it, forcing him to actually look at what he was reaching for. As he clasped that pesky beer his eyed dropped to her neckline.

Oh, small breasts almost visible through thin, translucent cotton, hanging, almost conical, and topped by hint of rose. He looked up into a picture of innocence, a girl who had no idea where her father was looking. He smiled and turned his attention back to the TV. When she asked to sit on his lap, he switched the bottle of beer to his other hand and held out an arm.

His daughter felt wonderful, soft and comfy snuggled against him, relaxing, nice. But when she moved, twisting to put her pop down, he felt two warm buttocks moving independently against him, and again as she twisted back. The TV was now forgotten, even though he was staring at it. His senses probed the feeling on his lap, warm firm buttocks for sure, he thought. But then, something, something familiar, what was it. Oh, naked buttocks, no panties, mmm. His reaction was visceral, his penis stirring, growing, but constrained by his jeans.

He turned slowly and looked at his daughter, at her mischievous grin. He loved it. He loved her. He couldn't get over how playful she was, not just asking straight out, but tempting him, teasing him. Lovely.

"So," he started. "Should we start cleaning the kitchen now? Get it ready for dinner?"

Her green eyes sparkled. "Is that what you want to do? Okay."

As she started to climb out of his lap, he laughed, grabbed her, hugged her, his nose in her hair inhaling the scent of girl, little girl, his little girl, the tinkling of her giggle music to his ears.

Putting his beer down, he slipped his arm under her knees and stood. Cuddling her to his chest, he carried her upstairs. He knew what he wanted to do, how he wanted to give his daughter pleasure this time, the idea arousing him. He put her down on her feet, stepped back, smiled, heart thudding as he reached for the hem of her t-shirt, green eyes looking up into his. Slowly he drew up the hem and as her arms rose from her sides, he pulled it up and off. He looked down at her slim chest, sexy training bra, her small sexy young breasts so tantalizing. His penis thickened, breath held in as he saw her tiny nipples stir, firming, hardening under his gaze, poking against cotton.

He dropped to his knees, his hands sliding around to cup her wondrous buttocks, pulling her closer to kiss her soft stomach, feeling a tremor pass through her as he did. His hands moved up, finger tips rippling along her spine, up to her training bra.

With consummate skill, he unhooked it, drawing the ends forward, eyes looking at her still covered breasts, and then looking higher, into pools of green, warm green. He felt her shrug, felt the training bra fall, and tore his eyes away from hers, looking down at her small breasts, so perfect, sharp little nipples. They lured him, a magnetic attraction, he had to taste. He felt another tremor pass through her body as his lips touched a nipple, and another as his lips parted slightly, gently sucking, drawing in the hard little nub. Lips parted further, suction sustained, and he moaned as he felt her whole breast in his mouth, a moan echoed by her as his tongue swirled around an areola, and teased a nipple.

He pulled back, eyes returning to hers, she smiled.

"Goooood Daddy."

He groaned, moved to the twin, playing fair, treating it the same while his hand gently caressed the first breast, soft, warm, firm, so intoxicating.

His hands dropped to the waist of her sweats, hooking the waist at her sides, tugging, slowly tugging, slipping them over her bony little hips, tugging, over her bottom, the rise of her pudendum starting, tantalizing. As the waistband passed the curve of her hips, they fell. His erection was now painful, constrained by jeans, wanting, needing freedom. But he felt nothing, absorbed by the vision of her perfect pussy before him, a perfect peach, plump, small red pubic hairs, a tightly closed cleft drawing his eyes down. The gap, that beautiful gap, full labia luring, inviting, and visions of his hand slipping up her thigh, caressing, moving closer, and index finger trailing along it filled his mind. His hand twitched, reached, desire burning. She stepped back.

Amanda watched his hand tremble as it moved towards her. She felt the wetness, the warmth of her arousal. She stepped back; not yet, Daddy.

When he looked up her breath caught in her throat - his eyes were hot, burning, deep, deep blue, the black pupils wide. Warmth rushed through her stomach moving lower, a throb, a clench felt deep inside her. She reached out; my turn. Her fingers slipped open the top button of his powder blue shirt, the color enhancing his eyes. A second button and a third opened, his chest hair appeared, soft, curling, sparse. She tugged his shirt, urging him to stand, looming over her when he did. She slipped his shirt off, letting it fall to the floor.

Her hands trembled as she reached for his jeans, his arousal so prominent, moving inside, stirring her, heating her as her anticipation built. Fumbling with the button, she grinned when Daddy sucked his tummy in. Zip opened, fingers sliding just inside the waist around to his hips. She pushed, struggled and finally they fell to his knees.

Oh Daddy. She watched his erection unfurled, released from its constriction, growing, lengthening towards his hip. Hands now shaking, she reached for his underwear, eyes focused on the shaft outlined within, oblivious of any other sight or sound, blood roaring in her ears. Slowly she revealed it, first his large crown then the thick shaft, veins etched prominently. Oh Daddy.

Sean was riveted to the sight of his naked daughter as she pulled his underwear down, her eyes widening when his erection sprang out pointing up at her face, towards her small red lips. Oh how he wanted. But it wasn't his plan. He took her hand, lifting it, distracting her while his feet shed his jeans and underwear, then led her to the bed.

They lay side by side facing each other. He kissed her gently, keeping his lips closed, determined to take it slowly. And, as they kissed he rolled her on her back, watching her breasts out of the corner of his eye as they became even smaller, topped by pointy nipples.

"Close your eyes, Honey. Keep them closed. Just feel, only feel. Don't touch, let me."

Her lips curled in a shy but accepting smile and he watched lids close, releasing him from their green intensity. So beautiful, he thought, her face, her smile, eyes closed, my angel.

Rising to his knees he put her arms along her side, taking a moment to appreciate this pubescent girl, his daughter, naked, trusting, and so alluring. He bent and kissed her nipple, a hard little pea against his lips, and kissed the other, bumps emerging on her areolae. Straddling her, his ass resting on her thighs, he leaned forward, and kissed her small nose, her lips, and her chin. He brushed her thick red hair aside and kissed her neck, his eyes closing as her scent assaulted him, sweet, clean, fresh, pure little girl. Resting his hands on her small shoulders he gazed at her breasts, penis throbbed, lubrication oozing. His hands moved down to softly rest on her breasts, nipples poking his palms. As he caressed her he heard her inhale sharply; stiff nipples squeezed between his ring and middle fingers. So, good, so good.

His hands slipped to her sides and slid down to her slender hips. He leaned forward, opened his lips and took a small breast, the entire breast, into his mouth with soft suction. She gasped. He trembled, sweet, firm, young. He kissed her stomach lightly, teasingly as he shuffled back, eyes now focused on her vulva. He felt precum slide down his shaft, the sight of her pussy, immature, on the cusp of maturity. Oh he wanted. But not yet. This is for you Amanda. My gift.

He bent, inhaling, eyes closed, concentrating. Yes, yes, aroused little girl, an intoxicating, heady aroma. He looked at her sparse pubic hairs, red, straight. Lips brushed against them before he kissed her cleft and felt her tremble. His knee nudged between her legs, urging them apart, her pussy revealed in all its glory. His other knee moved her other leg, spreading her further. Breath hissed in as her cleft parted slightly, her clitoral hood peeked. He spread her legs further apart, eyes glued to her plump labia, watching intently, excitedly as they resisted the force of nature, clinging together desperately until physics prevailed, parting gently, flowering open, revealing their treasures to his eyes. His heart thudded as her reddened engorged clitoris emerged. Her immature inner labia and dark blood-infused vaginal entrance inflamed him, an urge to take her, now, this very minute, penetrate her, thrust into her and cum in her fogged his mind.

No! This is for Amanda! A sharp voice in his head pushed the fog aside. Breathing deeply, he kissed her mons and the top of her cleft. He tasted her, his tongue rubbing her clitoris gently, rhythmically. Her hips jerked up against him. He trailed his tongue down, the feel of her labia sliding against the sides of it thrilling him. He tasted her arousal, the tip of his tongue probing her vaginal opening, hot, moist, silky smooth, sweet with only the slightest hint of that female tang, delicious, just delicious. As his thumb pad touched her clit, he heard her song, a whisper growing louder; "Daddy, Daddy, Daddy." The twitch in her hips gained rhythm, a smooth up and down motion. Close, she's close he thought as his tongue probed deeper, worming into her tiny hot opening, probing, thrusting. Her song crested, the chorus arrived; "uh, uh, uh," emphasized by sharp thrusts of her pelvis, pushing her clitoris against his rubbing thumb, driving his tongue deeper and deeper.

Sean felt hot liquid squirt from her into his mouth, her vagina squeeze his tongue, and the sweet sound of "oh Daddy," filling his ears. He came spontaneously, erection swelling, spurting hot semen onto the sheet, swelling, spurting, pleasure pounding as he drowned in his daughters orgasm, her body writhing and heaving off the bed, hands gripping his hair, shoving him away as she tried to clamp her legs together. She cried out turning onto her side, knees drawn up, body jerking, trembling.

Her body stilled, suddenly slack. He looked at her, worried. Amanda has passed out.

Amanda felt like she was awakening from a deep sleep. She felt Daddy holding her, comfort and peace inside. Awareness returned, arousal, kissing, touching, lips, tongue, oh tongue, bliss heaven.

"Oh Daddy," she whispered, unaware she had said it aloud.

As she opened her eyes she saw blue, smiling blue eyes with little crinkles at their corners observing her. She returned the smile. "Wow."

"Yes, wow," he responded, pausing before adding, "now you've had a nice nap what say you we get cleaned up? Maybe food? I'm hungry."

As they cleaned themselves in the bathroom, Amanda noticed Daddy's penis was small again and wondered why; she hadn't touched him. The thought was lost as they dressed, started talking about dinner, who was responsible for what. But it returned to her as they ate.

"Daddy, how come you were um, your, um . . . how come you didn't have an erection?"

"What are you talking about? You saw it," he answered, adding with a grin, eyebrows moving up and down, "remember, bedroom, you and me?"

She felt a little heat in her cheeks. "That's not what I meant. I meant after, you know."

Presented with another opportunity for some further enlightenment Sean started explaining about orgasms.

"Amanda, honey, there are lots of ways to get a climax. Pure physical stimulation is one. I'm sure you've found out just touching yourself can give you a climax. But if you think about it, when you are dreaming or imagining something while touching yourself your orgasms are stronger."

She nodded.

"It's the mental stimulation that makes all the difference. Your mind can be the most important sexual organ you have when making love; imagination is very powerful. This afternoon I had a climax without touching myself, all of my senses were stimulated by you, by the feel of you, by your climax."

"Oh."

There was a silence at the table as Amanda processed this new information. She thought about her dreams and understood how important her imagination was when she'd masturbate at night. She wondered how it might have been for Daddy this afternoon, a blush growing as she remembered his mouth on her pussy. She felt the first tickle of arousal as she remembered how good it had felt, then blushed again at the memory of hot liquid spurting from her. Oh gawd! I peed right into Daddy's mouth!

Sean sat patiently, eating slowly, eyes on Amanda's face, her thoughts clear in the expressions that passed over her. He knew when a rosy hue infused her cheeks that she remembered him giving her oral sex. But the furious blush, the sudden dip of her head suggested something more embarrassing, almost as if she was ashamed. Can't have that, he thought.

"What is it, Amanda? Tell me what you're thinking of."

"I can't Daddy. It's embarrassing."

"Sweetheart, I've told you there is nothing, ever, that we do that should embarrass you."

But try as he might, he couldn't get her to open up.

He replayed every move made this afternoon, trying to identify what he had done to embarrass her. But there was nothing. She had been an enthusiastic participant. It dawned on him; it wasn't anything he had done. Her embarrassment was somehow linked to something she had done. And with that thought, he saw it. She was embarrassed about her squirting, ejaculating into his mouth. Maybe she thought she peed? He decided a little clinical explanation might help.

"Amanda . . . Amanda, look at me." When he had her attention, green eyes looking up at him from under her long red eyelashes, he tried to ease her worry.

"Have you ever heard about the Skene's gland?" She shook her head. "Okay. Well, in a man his prostate gland is the one responsible for making semen."

"I thought that was your, um, your testicles."

"No. Testicles make sperm, the sperm that fertilizes female eggs. Semen is the liquid the carries the sperm into the womb. Two different things. Understand?"

"Uh-huh."

"In a woman, when she is aroused, her vagina gets moist. That's lubrication to help penetration. But, in some women their Skene's gland also produces a lubricating fluid. Some women are lucky enough to experience that liquid spurting out at the height of their orgasm. I'm told by a reliable authority that it feels quite wonderful."

"You mean it isn't pee?"

"Good Lord, no. It's just lubrication." He smiled to himself as understanding sank in and pinkness faded from her cheeks. Her head came up. She grinned.

"Thanks, Dad. I was really sacred I peed."

Desert was strawberry tarts, consumed in front of the TV, Inception playing on the DVD player. Sean and Amanda cuddled together, relaxed, happy.

But Amanda's mind wasn't on the movie, or the desert. She was consuming information, processing. Her mind was taking a journey, meandering from thought to thought. She was going over what Daddy had explained at dinner and how much better she felt now she knew she hadn't peed in Daddy's mouth, especially after he told her Mom experienced it too. She wondered what it tasted like, was it the same as the moisture from her pussy that she had tasted once, feeling wickedly naughty. Did Daddy like it? He hadn't said. But the way he talked about it, as though it was the most natural thing in the world, made her think perhaps he did; she'd have to ask. Later. As she imagined it spurting out of her another memory intruded, of Daddy's penis spurting into her palm. She felt a stir of arousal at that memory, how hot it had been. An idea began to form, a naughty idea. Maybe, just maybe. But how? Ah. That's how.

As the movie ended, they straightened up the den, took dishes to the kitchen, and loaded the dishwasher. Amanda held Daddy's hand as the climbed the stairs. Just inside the bedroom doorway she stopped him.

"Daddy?"

"Yes Sweetheart?"

"Can you do me a favor?"

"Anything, you know that."

She drew a breath and smiled sweetly. "Will you get undressed, completely undressed and lay on the bed?"

His pulse quickened. "Of course. If that's what you want."

"Um. Also, I want you to make a promise."

Intrigued, Sean quickly agreed.

"You have to promise to close your eyes and keep them closed, no matter what, until I tell you. Okay? Oh, and no touching, or moving, Okay?"

Visions floated through his mind, of Amanda standing in before him in lingerie, maybe a lacy little bra, or, oooh, garter, stockings, little lacy panties, blue, no black. Wow.

"Okay. No problem." And as Amanda disappeared into the bathroom, he stripped in record time, half an erection bouncing. He stretched out on the bed, slipped his hands under his head, closed his eyes, and yelled "Okay. All done."

Amanda was half undressed in the bathroom and grinned when she heard Daddy callout. Man that was fast. She giggled as she pulled her panties off.

"Daddy, remember, you promised. No looking, no touching, and no moving, Okay?"

"Uh-huh."

Amanda moved over to the bed, admiring Daddy's body, noticing his penis half hard. Kneeling on the bed she took first one hand then the other, moving his arms down to his sides. Leaning over, the musky, manly aroma of Daddy tickling her nostrils, she kissed his forehead lightly, just warm little lips pressed against him. She kissed the tip of his nose, then his chin, a cheek, and finally his lips, a pulse of arousal going through her at the sound of his moan.

Backing off, she gave him a moment, letting anticipation build. Then leaning back in she kissed his neck turning her body slightly to drag her nipple across his chest. She grinned as she felt his arm twitch at his side and heard breath rush through his nose.

Shuffling down she straddled his thighs, felt them tense under her as her naked bottom settled down, giggled again as his penis erected fully, straining and lifting from his stomach. Leaning forward, careful not to touch his penis, her hands touched his broad shoulders. She dragged her hands lightly through his chest hair, down across his flat stomach, stopping just above his erection, watching it pulse, dampness felt between her thighs.

Leaning back over Daddy she let her hair fall to his chest, leaned closer, and kissed his nipple, feeling it harden against her lips. She felt a tremor in his body, her excitement built. She kissed his chest, soft hair against her lips then his stomach as her hands slid down his sides, resting on his hips. Shuffling her body down, her buttocks sliding to his knees, she kissed lower, to one side, to his hip, teasing him. She heard him groan aloud, his body twitch. "Shhh," she whispered.

She kissed his thigh before rising, looking down on his straining erection, moisture, precum, glistening at its tip. Her arousal built, more dampness, her clitoris hardening at the sight. She took a breath, a deep calming breath, contemplating the next stage. Could she do it?

Her hands slid across his thighs, rubbed along the wrinkled sack of his testicles, feeling the ridges, the wrinkles against the pads of her fingers. Then, with just the pad of her index finger she traced the urethra, so sharply outlined, gently moving higher. She giggled when his penis strained against her finger, excited when she heard "Oh God," and liquid dripped onto his stomach. Soon, Daddy, not yet, she thought.

She brought both hands close, then curled her fingers around the shaft, feeling it jump and pulse hotly in her grip, looking so big, so big, awed that she had taken it inside her. Then bending her head she kissed the tip of his penis, tasting him. It pulsed hard in her hand leaking more precum. Hmm, not much flavour she thought. Building her courage she let her lips part, feeling them slip down the flared crown, hot and pulsing against her lips. Her mouth opened wider, then wider, stretching, stretching as wide as it could. She moaned as it popped in, lips locked below the flared ridge, her mouth full. She heard him cry out.

"Oh Jesus, Amanda."

She felt him, his erection straining in her hands, the head of his penis expanding impossibly large in her mouth, and knew he was there. She pulled it out of her mouth, sealing her lips against the tip just as hot semen gushed out into her mouth. She closed her lips, semen smearing them with each strong pulse, dripping down her chin. His penis throbbed again and again, expanding in her hand, each blast felt against her lips. Finally she felt him slow, pulses weaken and eventually stop, his erection softening in her hands. She swallowed tasting the first pulse of Daddy's semen still in her mouth, slippery, viscous, sorta salty, different, not good but not bad she decided, wiping her mouth and chin with her hand.

Sean slowly stirred, heart pounding, sweat dripping down his temples. He felt his hands shaking as he rested them on Amanda's back. He was stunned, simply stunned. He'd never experienced anything like it in his life, not with Sara, not with girlfriends, not with anyone; just his daughter. Unlike oral sex he had had before, this had been different, radically different. It wasn't just that it was his own thirteen year old daughter who had performed oral sex on him, it was the intensity, the gradual build up. Lack of sight had intensified every slight touch, his imagination had given him pictures, views, and angles that would have been impossible to see. Her giggles made her seem so young, much younger, more illicit, more thrilling. Pressure had built in his brain as she aroused him more and more, becoming almost painful. And when he felt the tightness of her mouth close over him, the head of his penis completely clasped in her, filling her mouth, it had taken him over the edge to one of the most intense climaxes of his life.

"Amanda. Amanda," he whispered, green eyes peering at him through a veil of red hair, "God, that was fantastic."

As father and daughter slept in the master bedroom and mother and son slept in the hotel room, not everything was milk and honey. Dark clouds gathered on the horizon. Longstanding familial relationships had been disrupted, perceptions altered, new experiences could never be forgotten, and a return to normalcy was no longer possible.

Chapter Five: Sweet Wishes

Andrew woke to the glorious feeling of an erection poking a soft buttock. But whether it was that alcohol from the glass of red wine had left his system or his subconscious kicking in, as he imagined his Mom's warm sexy ass, the face of his father stole in. He went flaccid in record time. Fear ran through him, followed by shame.

He rolled onto his back, suddenly imagining Dad's anger at what he had done, the thought embarrassing him deeply in the new light of day. He felt tears behind his eyes as he realized how disappointed Dad would be in what he had done.

Sara had been enjoying Andrew's youthful erection, had been thinking about how she might take advantage of it, when she felt him suddenly move away. Rolling over she was confronted by her son scared. She could see it in his eyes.

"Andy, what's wrong?" she asked, concerned.

"Dad. He'll kill me, Mom."

It hit her then. In her preoccupation with her machinations, with the thrill of the seduction, with the manipulation of Sean and Amanda, she had completely forgotten Andrew was an innocent participant. He was the only one who had no idea what had been developing. He didn't know that his father was aware of her plans.

Her heart broke, ashamed at her inexcusable oversight, and at the stress she had inadvertently forced on her son. She should have realized, she chastised herself. He's a good kid, of course he'd feel guilt. Damn you Sara, she thought angrily.

Sara rose up on her elbow and turned Andrews face to hers.

"Andy, listen to me. I promise you your dad won't be angry." She could see the doubt in his expression. "Andrew, trust me, please. I'll explain everything later. We have to get ready for your match."

Andrew didn't believe Mom. Dad would be furious. But she was right; he had to get ready for the soccer match. As he dressed, his disquiet remained. It dogged him through breakfast and could have been part of the reason his team lost their semi final match that morning.

"Sean, I have a small problem," Sara said into the cell.

Sean's pulse picked up. "What is it Sara? Is Andrew injured? Did something happen?"

"No, no, nothing like that. Relax. Andrew is fine. I just ran into a small complication this morning, something that never crossed my mind and I wanted some advice."

"What complication?"

Sara, calling from the sidelines of Andrews's game, started to explain Andrew's reluctance, his fear of Sean's anger.

"Sara, relax. Here's what you need to tell him. Tell him how you became aware of his attraction to you. Tell him how it gradually attracted you, made him desirable in your mind. Tell him how you felt bad and discussed it with me, and tell him that I agreed with you, with you exploring the attraction. It'll build up his confidence."

"OK. Thanks Sean. I'll try that."

"Good. How are his matches going by the way?"

"Two games won, third in progress right now."

"I'll see you tonight?"

"Yup. Love you."

It wasn't until after they hung up that both realized they hadn't asked if anything had actually happened, if either of them had had any sexual contact with their children.

Sara and Andrew stopped at a quiet cafe on the way back to the hotel. It was 10:45 am and the Hornets had lost. Andrew appeared even more depressed.

"Andy honey, I'm going to explain things to you. Listen to me carefully, Okay?"

"Okay, Mom," he answered morosely.

"Do you remember when you'd come into the kitchen in the morning? I knew you were looking at me. I also knew you were getting an erection and why you were rushing out of the kitchen."

Andrew grew red and shuffled in his seat.

"Well, the thing is, at first I thought it was fun. I was proud you'd get turned on by your Mom. But, slowly I found myself looking at you, really looking at you, seeing what a fine man you were growing up to be, how handsome, just like your dad. That started giving me other feelings. You know, like I started to feel sexy as you watched me."

Andrew's eyes were slowly opening wider.

"I began to find you attractive, and the fact that you were obviously attracted to me only made me like the feeling more. I had a long discussion with your dad, explaining what I was feeling." Here she took some liberty. "Your dad surprised me. He understood, said he'd had the same feelings towards his mother when he was young and always wished something had happened."

Andrew's eyes were almost bugging out of their eye sockets.

"Anyway, he told me to go ahead, see how you felt. You see, Andy, your father and I are very comfortable in our relationship, we have always been honest with each other and he understood I wasn't looking to replace him. We're still very much in love. He didn't see anything you and I might do as threatening. That's why you don't need to be afraid, or have any regrets. Do you understand, Honey?"

Andrew sat, straw from his apple juice in his mouth, not drinking, trying to process what Mom had just told him. That Dad knew, that he was okay with it, that he'd felt the same way about his own mom. Wow. Relief flowed through him, he could feel the stress draining from his tense muscles.

Wait, wait. What did she say? Did he just hear Mom say she was attracted to him before? A smile broke on his face as he realized she had called him an attractive young man. Oh wow. Mom. Attracted. To me!

As Sara saw understanding dawn in Andrew's eyes and then the realization of what it implied, she relaxed, breathing a sigh of relief. She smiled at her son and chuckled inside as a feint blush colored his cheeks, knowing where his mind had gone.

"Let's go. You need to shower and change before we head home."

She took his hand and they returned to the hotel, Andrew now talking a mile a minute about how the other team had cheated, and did she see those fouls? The refs were obviously biased.

As they drove home that afternoon in comfortable companionship, Andrew started thinking about what would happen now.

"Mom, do we have to stop, you know, now we're going home?"

Sara hadn't thought that far ahead. She now realized the complications this exciting experiment had created. Exactly how would it work, she wondered and, what if nothing had happened between Sean and Amanda? That would certainly cause some problems for her and Andrew.

"I'll have to talk to you dad. I'll let you know Andy. But it would be nice to continue," she added as she worried the problem in her mind all the way back.

Amanda had awakened Sunday morning in Daddy's arms. She felt so loved and comforted by him and, surprisingly, completely at ease. She didn't feel any embarrassment as she thought over the last two days and what she had done with Daddy. Remembering making love with him gave her a warm, comfortable feeling. She began to think about all those naughty things she wanted to try, try with Daddy, and felt warmth begin in her stomach.

But it dissipated as she realized Mom and Andrew were coming back today. That meant she wouldn't have Daddy any more, not like this anyway. A little of her joy faded.

"Daddy. Daddy!"

Sean was rudely shaken out of this sweet dream, a dream of soft skin sliding against him, the sound of purring in his ears, a little voice whispering, 'Like this, please'. Groaning, he opened his eyes reluctantly. Green. Peering at him, hovering over him. An impish grin.

"Oh good. You're awake."

"Jeez, Amanda. That's not fair. I was dreaming of this beautiful blond with big . . ." Breath whooshed out from the elbow in his stomach.

"Daaad."

"Okay. I'm awake. What's up?"

"Um. What happens when Mom and Andrew get home?"

"Uh. I guess we say hello."

"No Dad," and before she continued she saw the twinkle in his eyes. She grinned. "I mean with you and me."

"That's a good question."

Sean extracted himself from under her and headed towards the bathroom to take care of the usual morning urge, with the sound of Amanda yelling after him.

"Daddy. I'm serious. What's going to happen?"

Clearly Amanda wasn't impressed with the alacrity of his response as she was pulling on a t-shirt over her sweat pants when he came out.

"Amanda, I really don't know. I need to talk to your mom when she gets home." Then, with a reassuring smile "My vote is we figure out some way for you and I to be together."

It brought a smile and the start of a response that was interrupted by the phone ringing. Sara.

Amanda had wandered into the kitchen while he was on the phone. She hadn't heard Dad's end of the conversation. Probably wouldn't have anyhow as she was preoccupied. But as the morning passed and early afternoon rolled by, Amanda was increasingly gloomy. Dad's lack of a satisfying answer preyed upon her mind. What would happen?

Thus, when Sara and Andrew announced their arrival, and Sean and Amanda came out to welcome them home, it was unusually subdued, with Amanda in a funk and Andrew watching his dad cautiously. Sean and Sara hugged quite normally, but it was Sara that noticed her children slink off to their rooms, footsteps on the stairs just a little too heavy. She looked up at her husband.

"I think we need to talk."

And indeed they did. For three hours locked away in Sean's study. Stories were exchanged, each updating the other, grinning at some parts, and titillated by others. Sean was comfortable with Sara's experiences with Andrew and, truth be told, quietly pleased that his was still bigger and better according to her.

Sara was delighted. It sounded like Amanda had done well and she couldn't wait to hear Amanda's side of the story, a female perspective. However, there was a little niggling in the back of her mind, a slight insecurity. She wondered if Sean's experience might have diminished her appeal to him, or his sexual satisfaction with her.

"So Sean. What do we do now?" She asked in her typical forthright manner.

"Sara, do you still want to have sex with Andrew?"

"Yes. Do you?"

"Um. No. I'd rather leave Andrew to you," he said, cheeky grin on his face. "Okay, Okay. Yes, I'd like to. The thing is I'm worried about them."

"How so?"

"Well, you know I've been totally satisfied with our sex life, and I know I still will be in the future."

Sara felt pleasure at that. "So?"

"What about Andrew and Amanda? You and I can have sex anytime, we're each other's outlet so-to-speak, and we don't need to worry about developing an outside relationship. But the kids do. I mean they don't have an alternate outlet for their sexual urges and I don't want them to recklessly pursue one. At the same time, they still have to grow, build relationships, find boyfriends or girlfriends and I don't know how to balance it all. What's best for them? And then there's the potential for conflict. Imagine Andrews's reaction if he wants time with you and I do, too, or the same with Amanda and you."

"You've obviously given it some thought. Any ideas?"

"Nope."

Silence fell, both parents lost in thought, exploring and rejecting alternative scenarios. But, once again, it was Sara that came up with an idea.

"Sean, how about this. We'll put some structure around it, set some simple rules. I think over time the novelty will wear off, for the kids as well as for us. My guess is they'll naturally gravitate towards having a boyfriend or girlfriend their own age. Until then, we set the guidelines for any relationship to avoid confusion or anger, or jealousy."

"Done. Go tell them."

She smiled. "Don't you want to know what the structure will be?"

"Oh, right. So tell me."

"Okay. They'll be limited to being with either of us to two nights per week. Those nights will start after dinner and end the next morning. That's it. We'll call them 'wish nights'. They can tell the partner a wish they'd like to have fulfilled or something they'd like to do, movie date, dinner date, stuff like that. That way they retain a sense of control. During the daytime, everything stays the same, as it is now."

"Hmm. Do you really think it will work?"

"Sean, every plan has to be adapted at some point. We'll see how it goes."

"Are the two nights set? I mean do we tell them it's Wednesday and Saturday, for example?"

"No, they get to choose, but we have to agree. You know, you agreeing with Amanda, me agreeing with Andrew."

"Okay. I see it. One last thing. Are Amanda and Andrew aware of each other? Do they know what's happened with you and I?"

"Yeah, that's a problem. Could be embarrassing. Tell you what, you tell Amanda about Andrew and I and I'll tell Andrew about you two, separately, so they can ask questions before they have to see each other. Then, maybe over dinner we can discuss it openly and talk about the ground rules."

Dinner that night started out a little stilted. Despite the apparent acceptance of the new news by both kids, they kept blushing every time they looked at each other across the table. As usual, it was Sara that took the bull by the horns.

"All right you two, enough with the blushing. Things have changed in this family, I know. But if your father and I are comfortable with it, you both should be too."

If logic were the answer, that should have been enough. But the simple fact was each child was blushing not at their own adventures, but from imagining the other, what they may have done, embarrassed by the visual images. Sean understood this on some level and decided a redirection of their attention, a distraction might help. He started explaining about 'wish nights', two per week, each to decide what they'd like to do. He explained that not wanting to do anything was perfectly acceptable; it was entirely up to them. Neither he nor their mom would instigate anything; it was their responsibility to ask, if they wanted.

"Does that include movies or going out for dinner?" Amanda asked.

"Yes" and turning to Andrew, "it also includes things like sports events if you want."

A surprising thing happened. Andrew and Amanda started talking to each other, debating different ideas. It seemed the safety of talking about different outdoor excursions succeeded in distracting them from imagining each other with Mom or Dad. Their excitement grew with ideas for increasingly adventurous outings and, as Sara saw their excitement, she wondered why they hadn't had the foresight to set up days totally devoted to one child as a regular event. She and Sean both laughed when an argument broke out between them over which day they'd get, their parents laughter making them realize the absurdity of the argument. Things seemed back to normal, well a new O'Reilly normal.

Of course rules are never rigid, they bend adjusting to unexpected forces, and like any rules, there are always unforeseen effects. In the O'Reilly household, they bent, just a little, eventually.

That night, as Sean cuddled into Sara, nose buried in her hair enjoying the familiar scent of Sara, and definite intentions on his mind, she interrupted him.

"Sean?"

"Mmmm."

"You have to promise me some things."

He groaned as he rolled on his back. Here she goes, he thought.

"I dunno about that Sara. I'm perfectly aware of what you did to me with my promises about Amanda. That was plain mean. I mean really, giving her advice when you knew I couldn't react! Don't think for a minute I'll fall for that again."

Sara giggled. Oops, found out.

"No, that's not it. I only have two things I want you to promise me."

"And they would be?"Sean asked skeptically.

"I want you to promise me that no matter what, you'll never do anything to hurt Amanda, emotionally or physically, and promise never to tell Amanda anything about what happens between Andrew and me, or tell Andrew anything about what happens between you and Amanda, that's all."

"Is that a reciprocated promise?"

"Yup."

"Okay. I promise."

Sara and Sean then made love, a slow, sensual, familiar love, a reaffirmation of their union, of their commitment to each other, Sara's final comment before falling asleep was "well, that seemed to go well." Sean was too tired to ask if she meant making love or the dinner.

Sara caught up with Amanda over the next couple of days. They had long conversations about Amanda's experiences with her dad. Sara basked in Amanda's enthusiasm and wonder; she felt stirrings inside as Amanda eagerly explained about her feelings, and she was secretly amused by the blushes that accompanied the descriptions. Some of her descriptions aroused her enough to attack Sean at night. She felt proud of her husband when Amanda told her about some of the conversations she'd had, how he had dealt with sensitive subjects, and she answered Amanda's endless questions.

Sean, on the other hand, felt awkward discussing anything with Andrew. He wrestled with what to say, finally deciding details weren't important.

"Andrew," he started one evening as the ladies were chattering away in the kitchen cooking, "do you feel okay about your relationship with your mom?"

"Um, yeah Dad."

"Good. Let me just say this. If you ever have anything you'd like to ask or know about, you should know that I'm perfectly fine with you asking me. But whatever you do, the only thing I ask is you do nothing to hurt your mom. Okay?"

"Dad! I'd never hurt Mom!"

"I know. We're good?"

"Yeah, Dad. We're good."

"Daddy?"

Sean looked at his daughter snuggled at his side. "Yes sweetheart."

"Um. I have a wish."

It was Wednesday. It had been four days since they had been together and he had begun to wonder if it would be the last time. So, when Amanda told him she had a wish, it was no surprise that his response was immediately visceral, a response in his groin.

"What's your wish?"

"Do you remember me telling you about when I was nine? You know, my birthday? Remember I told you about when you kissed me on the neck?"

"Of course." How could he forget?

"Um. When I used to, um, you know, um, play with myself, I always dreamed of you coming into my room at night and, um, making love to me. I'd like that dream."

Now there's a magnificent dream, he thought and didn't hesitate to agree. "Sounds wonderful sweetheart. What night were you thinking about?"

"Uh, I was hoping we wouldn't have to decide, that you'd surprise me one night, you know, so I'd feel the same way I used to."

Tonight, tonight!

"Amanda, I think that's a great idea. Let's do it."

She turned her head up to look at him, green eyes serious. "But don't wait too long, Daddy. Not like a week. And this time you have to do it, you have to seduce me. Oh. And remember I'm young." Realizing what she had just said, she grinned. "I mean younger."

Man he loved her. "Promise," he said with a smile.

That night he told Sara about Amanda's dream night. It struck a chord deep inside her and with Sean already horny from anticipation, they fucked, no making love this time, they fucked; Sean behind her thrusting hard and deep, her riding atop of him, slamming herself down hard on his erection, and finally, with Sara bent over the side of the bed, Sean thrust into her from behind, ejaculating in glorious release, his testicles drenched as Sara explosively squirted against him, very satisfying indeed.

The next day, Sean's distraction at work was understandable. He couldn't go to Amanda tonight, he reasoned, it was too soon. But if he didn't, she'd expect him Friday and that was no good. It was supposed to be unexpected. Eventually he settled for Saturday.

Andrew had given his wish night a lot of thought. He approached Mom that morning.

"Um, Mom. I've thought of a wish."

Sara smiled to herself, wondering what it would be as she turned from the sink. "And what might that be?"

"Um, well, there's a bit of a problem."

"Like what?"

"Well, you see, I know the wish thing is supposed to be for nights, but . . ."

"But what, Andy?" She smiled in encouragement.

"Do you remember when, after the last soccer game on Sunday we went back to the room?"

"Yes."

"Well, when I was showering, I sorta wished you'd come and join me and, uh, you know."

She felt a delicious tingle at the thought. "In the shower, hmm? So, what's the problem?"

"I was thinking, like tomorrow I have soccer practice and instead of showering at school I could come home and, you know. But I'd be home at four and that's early and . . ."

Her mischievous side came out. "So would I be fully clothed if it happened?"

"Um. I thought maybe, um, maybe not." His cheeks felt a bit of heat, a combination of having to be more explicit than he had envisioned and excitement from the idea of Mom slipping into his shower naked.

But Sara wasn't done yet. "Would that be the end of your wish then?" You'd give up the night for that?"

Andrew hadn't thought that far ahead. Damn. Think you idiot. Then he saw Mom grinning.

"I guess I'll be awfully sore from practice. I might need a massage a little later on."

As Sara walked past him, she cupped his cheek, brushed her lips against him and said "It's a date, Honey." And for the first time, Sara went into the bathroom and masturbated, dreaming of what she'd do.

The first little bend in the rule had happened.

That night at dinner it was rather comical, Amanda eyeing her father speculatively wondering if this would be this night, and beginning to regret her guidelines for her wish. Andrew was blissfully unaware of anything, once again lost in his head, his imagination giving him a hard on, while Sara and Sean chatted about their day. That night Sara told Sean about Andrew's wish and Sean, thinking about it, suggested it might be a good thing for her to practice right away, with a nod towards their bathroom, earning him a jab in the rib.

As Andrew walked back from school alone, he looked rather awkward. He was holding his gym bag in front of his groin to hide a penis that seemed to grow with every step. Perhaps for the first time in his life he was willingly doing math in his head, trying to tamp down his excitement, afraid he'd be too excited and wouldn't last.

Sara wasn't faring much better, peeking out of the living room window every so often. She was rather moist, anticipation and imagination having provided stimulation throughout the day. She had felt embarrassed at having to go to the washroom to wipe herself, and even once to change her panties before she remembered panty liners. So she was somewhat relieved to see Andrew sauntering along the sidewalk albeit in a rather unusual way. She quickly disappeared into the kitchen.

"Mom, I'm home. Going to take a shower. Mom?"

"I heard you Andy," she yelled back, smiling.

Andrew tore off his soccer clothes, grabbed his towel and hustled to the bathroom. As he stood under the shower, studiously avoiding touching his raging erection, he washed briefly to get rid of the worst of the mud and dirt, wondering when Mom would join him. He waited. As his erection was beginning to flag the shower curtain pulled back.

"Can I join you?"

He turned, eyes widening as Mom stepped in, drinking in the sight of her naked body, even more arousing, if that was possible.

She looked at him, her eyes sweeping down his body, studying his penis, seeing it erect before her eyes. With a soft smile she moved to him, arms sliding around his waist, his penis poking her then sliding up her stomach.

Breathe, breathe, he reminded himself.

"You're dirty, Andy. I think we need to wash you."

And, oh God, she did. Her soft soap-slickened hands slid across the top of his shoulders. She turned him around and ran her hands over his back. He felt goose bumps break out as she washed his butt. He felt her caressing each cheek, his erection strained as her hand slid between his buttocks. Breathe, breathe, he told himself. Her finger slipped over his anus almost induced a climax, and still she burrowed down, oh, oh, Mom's washing my balls.

"Mom," he croaked.

She was lost in the sensation of feeling her son, the tightness of his butt crack so wonderful, and when she felt his scrotum, small, wrinkled, tight, and heard him call her, she knew he was close, already. Smiling, she reached around him and stroked his erection once, enjoying his moan.

She used his shoulders to turn him in the spray.

"Turn. Rinse," she instructed.

When he was facing her, shower pounding his back, she felt damp arousal inside as she contemplated what she was about to do. She looked into his eyes. He was frozen, hadn't touched her, the burning blue intensity of his gaze telling her how close he was.

Her hand moved down his hairless chest, down across his stomach, and she wrapped her fingers around him, watching as his eyes narrowed, passion flaring. Slowly, eyes locked together, she knelt, his eyes opening wide. "So big, Andy," she whispered. Without breaking her gaze, she opened her mouth and closed it around the crown, lips tightly sealed on his shaft, applying gentle suction, the tip of her tongue probing the tiny slit. Her hand stroked gently, mouth descending further, the crown at her throat.

"Oh Jesus!" he gasped. "Mom!"

She felt his pulse, strong, all the way up the shaft, the crown expanded, and hot semen jetted into her mouth, and then another, even stronger. She swallowed. She saw his eyes close in ecstasy, then watched the shaft in her hand throb, stiffen, another huge spurt of cum exploding on her tongue still pressed against the slit. She swallowed, and sucked hard, stroking his shaft.

"Oh Jesus!"

His hips jerked pushing his penis against her throat as a fourth blast surged out, almost choking her. She swallowed reflexively. It was over. She felt the spurts weaken suddenly into dribbles of semen and his penis soften in her mouth before pulling back.

Rising, she hugged her son to her, his body trembling as he whispered, "Oh mom, oh mom." She smiled, exactly what she had dreamed about.

Amanda was in her room stretched out on her bed. She had arrived earlier so she had no idea of what was happening in the bathroom. She was frustrated. Daddy hadn't come to her last night or the night before. He was teasing her, she decided. It just wasn't fair.

And, while she recognized it was her fault, that Daddy was only following her instructions, it didn't help ease her frustration. As she lay there, she decided teasing was a two way street. She quickly stripped and pulled on a t-shirt and sweats, proven weapons.

For the next two hours she concentrated on homework, giving it unusual attention to distract her until Daddy came home.

In the shower down the hall, Sara was practically holding her son up. Eventually she felt his strength return, his trembling fade, and his head rise from her shoulder.

"Oh, Mom. That was... that was..."

She smiled at him. "Yes, it was."

Finally his hands touched her, landing on her lower back. "I never knew. I mean I've heard about it and stuff. But God, Mom."

She couldn't help her giggle. His sudden lack of articulateness was charming, and rather satisfying. "Um, Andy, you know you didn't really experience the whole thing. I think you were a little over excited."

"Yeah, sorry." He smiled shyly.

"Maybe we should try it again?"

"We can? I mean, yes, I'd like that." As he said it, his hands slipped down to hold her bottom.

"Uh-Uh. Not now. Another time. It's time for me to get out."

"But Mom."

"Nope. Later. Finish your shower. I have dinner to cook."

As Andrew started shampooing, she left the bathroom, checking the hall before stealing to her room, towel wrapped around her. She was horny, but she decided she'd wait for later. She dressed and, as she brushed her teeth, thought about Andrew's semen, the taste and texture, the volume. It wasn't as salty or as strong tasting as Sean's, certainly not as much as Sean and, perhaps, a little less viscous. But overall, very nice, she decided.

Amanda entered the kitchen as she was pulling dinner together. One look told her Amanda was up to no good.

"Amanda, do you know what you're doing?"

"What do you mean, Mom?" Amanda answered, trying to feign innocence.

"You can't fool me child. I'm as good at spotting no bra and no panties as you father. What's up?"

"He's been teasing me! It's not fair. I decided if he can, I can."

She said it with such indignity Sara stopped what she was doing. "Exactly what has he done?"

"He's ignoring me. He didn't come."

She laughed. "Amanda, he's doing exactly what you asked. You can't blame your father for that. If it helps, he's really, really frustrated. You told him to surprise you and it's been tough on him. Now don't make it worse. Go put on underwear."

As Amanda left the kitchen Sara yelled, "And a bra!"

Damn, damn, damn. She may be right but it's still not fair.

When Sean came in from work, Sara mentioned Amanda's frustration.

"I'd decided on Saturday," he said. "I'm supposed to surprise her."

"Okay. It's your decision, but some hugging and cuddling can go a long way to easing her frustrations." She heard him grumbling to himself as he went up to change. Oh well. You did your best, she thought, turning to finalize the meal.

Sean changed, thinking about Amanda. He decided a quick chat might be in order. He knocked and entered her room, and froze. Amanda was bending over wearing yellow panties, in the process of pulling up her jeans. He felt an immediate rush of lust as he ogled her pert, shapely little bottom, the succulent bulge of her panty-clad pussy between her thighs, and the erotic camel toe outlining her cleft.

He saw her look back at him, under her arm, green peering at him and what looked like a sneaky grin flash across her face.

"Hi, Daddy."

"Uh. Sorry. I knocked."

"I heard you. You didn't wait for an answer."

As her jeans slipped up, squeezing over a wriggling bottom, Sean beat a hasty retreat, forgetting why he had gone there in the first place. Yet again he was stumped. Was she doing it on purpose? How come he was having such trouble reading her?

Dinner was another odd one in the O'Reilly household. Andrew was preoccupied trying to figure out why, after all he and Mom had done, he still felt heat in his cheeks when she saw him looking at her. Amanda was grinning inside at Daddy, thinking about how easy it was becoming to tease him. She had planned that little display spontaneously when she heard him walking towards her room, only just getting her legs into the jeans and bending before he walked in. Sara was thoroughly enjoying her son as he slyly looked at her, and the anticipation of the night ahead, ideas floating through her imaginative mind.

Sean was the only one in a funk. His thoughts were going in an endless loop trying to see his daughter's intents in her actions, looking for a sign, a tell that she was teasing him. He couldn't see it.

As the family watched TV in the den, it was Andrew who made the first move.

"I'm heading to bed. Night, Dad."

Sean smiled. He picked up on Andrew not saying good night to Sara. He waited to see how long Sara would wait before leaving. She surprised him by sitting for over an hour before telling them she was going to take a shower before bed.

"Dad?"

He looked down at Amanda, snuggled into his side. "What's up squirt?"

She grinned, and then turned serious; she'd been stewing all evening. "I've been thinking. It's not fair how this is working."

"What do you mean, Amanda?"

"Well, when I was up in my room this afternoon I realized I'm supposed to have two days a week with you but if you don't come tonight and if you don't come Saturday night then I'll have only had one night with you this week and that's not fair." She took a deep breath and continued. "And it might even be worse because if you don't come on Sunday night then I will have had no nights with you and that would be totally unfair so that's what I think."

Sean sat quietly trying to interpret what she had just said. It was confusing to say the least. But he got there, eventually.

"Okay. So what do you suggest? You know it's your own fault for not thinking through your wish, don't you?"

"Uh-huh. I know, Dad. But I want two nights!"

Two things struck Sean.

The first was that with the way the wish night rules were set, he could end up just like tonight, horny and no wife or daughter around. Even worse was knowing Sara was having fun but he wasn't.

The second was Amanda was right. It really wasn't fair, even though it had been a flaw in her plan that created the problem.

A solution occurred to him.

"Hold on, Honey." He stood quickly. "Just wait."

Hoping Sara was really taking a shower, he went to their room. Hearing the shower, he entered the steamy bathroom.

"Sara?"

"Sean? What's up?"

Sean explained the short-comings of her wish night to her while standing outside the shower, yelling to be heard.

"So, I suppose you have a better option?"

"Yup," he said proudly. "Here it is. The kids get only one wish night . . ."

Sara interrupted him. "They won't like that, Sean."

"Wait, wait. Listen to the whole plan. On Andrew's wish night, I get to have one with Amanda, something I choose as long as she agrees and, on Amanda's wish night you get to have one with Andrew, again only if he agrees," Adding under his breath, "as if he wouldn't."

"Hey, that sounds like it might work. What made you think of it, horniness?"

"Yup. But not mine, if you believe it."

"Oh. Well, why don't we try it? I'll let Andrew know. I guess I'm safe in assuming you'll let Amanda know?"

Sean didn't hear Sara's last bit. He had already stepped out as soon as she agreed.

The second little bend in the rule had happened.

As he sat next to Amanda and explained the new wish night guidelines, he watched the excited twinkle appear in her green eyes. He felt a little chill when she turned slightly demure.

"So what's my Daddy's wish?"

Grinning he answered "I don't know. I'll have to think about it for a while." It earned him an elbow in his side. But the truth was he didn't. It had not been a consideration under the old rules, so he never gave into the temptation of dreaming about different scenarios. He gave it serious consideration now.

He thought about Amanda sneaking into his room in a lacy white bra, garter, nylons and a skimpy little pair of panties, mmm. But she probably didn't have any. He thought about a drive, high school, fondling in the car, and steamy windows. But it was still winter outside. Then he thought about Sara, the shower. Hmm. That had potential.

But what really got him going was thinking of him and Amanda snuggled on the couch spooning, his hand slipping up her leg, the softness of the inside of her small thigh, and of fingers hooking her night shirt and . . .

"All right, Amanda. I've decided. Remember, only if you agree, okay?"

She was smiling softly. "Tell me Daddy. What is your wish? What do you want your daughter to do?"

He had a full erection just from how she spoke, heat in her gorgeous eyes. Clearing his throat and feeling surprisingly embarrassed, he told her.

"I'll get changed, Daddy. You pick the movie." She had that demure smile on her face as she left the den.

Andrew had rushed upstairs earlier, brushed his teeth, stripped down to his boxers and, with only a bedside lamp on, slipped between his sheets, his penis erect, excited. After waiting more than an hour, his penis now limp, he wondered where Mom was. Sneaking out of his room he listened at the head of the stairs, but only heard soft mumblings, Dad and Amanda downstairs.

As he put his ear to his parents' bedroom door, he heard the shower. Grinning, he tiptoed back to his room and slipped between the sheets, his penis waking up in anticipation.

Sara turned the shower off and toweled herself dry, thinking of what Sean had proposed. It had sounded reasonable, especially in her state of heightened arousal. It titillated her even more as she imagined some of the dreams she had had about Andrew. Some of them raunchy enough it brought a flush of arousal, making her wipe between her legs again, carefully.

She turned her thoughts to tonight. What did she want to do for Andrew? Ah yes. He'd seen her naked, he'd seen her dressed, he'd seen her in her underwear, but he'd never seen her take it off. She smiled. There was no question, Andrew was a young man. She lightly applied some perfume, left the bathroom and searched through her dresser drawer until she found what she wanted.

Andrew was on his back, hands behind his head, penis shriveled again, and wondering what was taking Mom so long. What was it about females and timing? It was almost nine-thirty for goodness sakes. But, with the alacrity of youth, his penis thickened as the bedroom door cracked open, a gentle knock having drawn his attention.

He watched Mom enter, surprised by the long, floor length blue bathrobe, its size and fluffiness making her look so petite inside it, fiery red hair tumbling over her slim shoulders. She closed the door, turned and stood, looking at him with mischievousness glinting in her eyes and small teasing curve to her lips. Before he could move to pull back the covers in an invitation, she spoke.

"Don't move Andy. Don't talk, just watch, okay?"

He nodded.

He saw her untie the belt, then grip the bathrobe holding it closed. As she pulled it up slightly it slid from the top of her shoulders to reveal two bra straps. He held his breath. She let it go and in one fell swoop it crumpled to the floor.

A black lace bra so sheer her dusky pink nipples were clearly visible, but, oh, black garter, silky black stockings, and tiny, silky bikini panties, oh Mom.

He felt no embarrassment at the tent forming at his groin, he didn't notice. His eyes were riveted on Mom as she reached behind her leg, then in front, and rolled a silky stocking down her slightly bent leg, green eyes focused on him, oh Mom.

He watched her straighten, reach behind her other leg, then in front. Another stocking slipped down her leg. She reached behind her again and her black lacy garter belt joined the stockings. He concentrated in the low light, yes, there! A soft moan was heard as he looked at the small wisps of red pubic hair peeking over her panties. Oh Mom!

A hand reached behind, her other crossing her breasts. He heard it, a snick sounding loud, he saw it, two straps slipping off her shoulder, his heart beat harder as she exchanged arms, her bra falling to the floor, the swell of her breasts behind her arm being pushed against her chest, oh Mom.

Her smile broadened, arm fell away, two beautiful breasts, still proud, dusky pink areolae and large prominent nipples riding high, the gentle swell below suggesting a seductive weightiness. God, Mom.

Her fingers slipped under the side of her tiny silk panties, hips moving slowly side to side, panties moving down. He gasped at her fiery red bush, thick shiny pubic hair, at the gap between her thighs, the plumpness between.

"Oh Jesus."

Sara had watched Andrew, letting his feelings guide her, he was easy to read, eyes telling her the next move, the tent of the covers showing his appreciation as it rose and fell.

"Turn over Andy. You must be sore from soccer." She said it softly.

She saw him grin, brightness in his light blue eyes, and smiled as he rolled quickly onto his front, his hand moving down, hips rising to adjust his erection. Climbing onto the bed, kneeling at his side, she pulled the covers off him. Then reaching for the waist of his boxers she leaned forward, her breasts softly brushing his bare back and whispered.

"Lift."

He groaned, lifted his hips and she pulled them down and off, admiring his tight butt. For the next five minutes she massaged the muscles of his back, tense, but not from soccer. As she felt him relax, calm down, a grin reappeared. She straddled him, holding her weight off him, not touching him. Then, as her hands massaged up to his shoulders, she let her pubic hair brush against his ass.

She felt a tremor in his body as he moaned. Yes, he's ready.

She whispered in his ear, "Turn over," before lifting herself, giving him room.

Andrew turned and felt lust burst inside as he saw his mom straddling him, firm full breasts, hard nipples, and the gentle swell of her stomach so sexy and seductive. But the sight of her full red bush as it settled on top of his penis, swelling and spreading around his shaft, and the warmth of her enrobing him was amazing. His erection throbbed in agreement. His hands slid up to hold her hips, soft, curved, sexy. As he looked up to her face, noticing flush on her chest, he saw heat in her eyes. Then he felt it. Her hips moved slightly, her pussy slid against him, hot, moist. He tore his eyes from hers, looking down, moaning at sight of her pussy sliding up his shaft, red pubic hair enveloping him. His pulse quickened as she slid back, the head of his penis rising from his stomach, a filmy line of precum stretching to his stomach. Oh God.

His hands pulled on her hips, pulling her forward, a hard clitoris dragging up his shaft. He heard Mom moan, glanced up, her eyes closed, head bent, a curtain of red waves framing her beautiful face. He watched intently as she slid down again, and up, her nipples growing harder before his eyes. His hands urged her on, more, please Mom, more.

He groaned loudly as he felt her slide up over the head of his erection, eyes snapping down to see. The vision of his penis emerging from her pubic bush brought the first tingle of a developing climax. He pulled her forward and she slipped up his erection again, hot moisture greasing his erection. Then she paused, her hands moving onto his chest, her hips turned and, oh God, he felt himself sink into her, hot, velvety softness engulfing him. Breath exploded as he was completely buried, surrounded by a hot, massaging sensation. Mom moaned, collapsing forward on him, her hips rising and lowering, snug, she was so snug. He grabbed her buttocks, thrusting up into her, a hot slippery velvet glove sliding down his straining erection. Suddenly the pace increased. He felt Mom's hot breath on him, panting as she moved her bottom up and down in counterpoint to his thrusts. Sweat gathered between them, he felt the heaviness, the tightness in his groin signaling an imminent orgasm. His arms wrapped around her body, hugging her tightly to him, fucking Mom, fucking Mom, breasts pushing into him, thrusting, thrusting, thrusting hard.

Then it hit, "Oh God Mom, cumming!" Semen burning up his penis and, just before it burst from him, Mom's vagina clamped his erection painfully. Cum blasted out. She clamped again. He thrust hard, burying himself deep. His erection expanded and cum blasted, an almost painful pulse. The dam burst as he thrust wildly into her, gripping her ass, fucking, fucking, jetting cum again and again, a warm wetness surrounding his penis, semen flowing back to leak over his crotch, and still he thrust until all that was left were gut wrenching dry heaves, and eventually, they too passed, his penis shrinking, withdrawing, falling out of her, and he felt a warm gush of cum soaking him.

His heart was still pounding when Mom lifted her head, face flushed, and said with a grin, "Still sore?" then laid her head back on his chest.

Sara smiled to herself. Her climax had been intense, Andy's enthusiasm very enjoyable.

Amanda had felt a delicious thrill as Daddy told her his wish. She remembered. Ten and half, sneaking onto the couch one Sunday afternoon and wrapping his arms around her while he slept on his side, moving back against his huge body to spoon hers, clasping his arms across her chest, and imagining his big hands massaging her nipples that had started aching so recently.

She ran up the stairs talking to herself. Which panties should I wear, which ones would feel the best to my Daddy? They have to be sexy, but I don't have any sexy ones. Would he prefer silky or cotton. Damn, which do I choose? Should I have a bra on? Would he want to unhook it? No, too much trouble.

Clothes were flying in her room, clothes she tore off herself, and a fountain of panties arched through the air as she considered and rejected one after another. Finally she selected a pair, slipping them up her slender thighs and wiggling her bottom to make them fit just so. A last adjustment with her fingers sliding inside the leg bands and she turned to the pressing issue of the nightie. Nothing seemed to be right, too staid, too childish, or too frilly.

An idea struck her. Wrapping her bathrobe about her, she tiptoed to Daddy's room, listening for any movement. She heard him moving downstairs, so she slipped into his room and searched through the dresser. Ah-hah! She pulled out one of his large t-shirts. She grinned then held it to her nose inhaling Daddy smell deeply. With a giggle, she went to the bathroom to wash her 'place', and brush her teeth and hair. In front of the mirror another idea struck her. She smiled to herself naughtily as she wiggled out of her panties. There, problem solved.

Sean had followed Amanda a couple of minutes later, stripping quickly and pulling on pajama bottoms before returning to the kitchen. He poured himself a Scotch and soda, and a coke with a glass of ice for Amanda. Switching off lights as he went, he put the drinks on the coffee table.

After choosing a movie, Two Weeks Notice, and putting it in the DVD player, he hunted around for the woollen Afghan throw. Finding it, he tossed it on the couch, and turned all the lights out except for a soft, low watt table lamp.

As he was bending to sit, he saw Amanda in the doorway.

He saw a mass of shining red curls tumbling over small shoulders, framing questioning green eyes, and a hint of a shy smile at the edge of her mouth. He saw a dusty green v-necked t-shirt, his t-shirt. It was baby soft and thin from years of wash and wear. The soft cotton draped and formed suggestively around the small swell of her little breasts, hard nipples poking against the material. The hem ended at mid thigh with slim bare legs and bare feet below. He sucked in his breath at this incredible vision of beauty, of youthful sensuality, his heart pounding in his chest.

Calm down, he told himself, as he straightened. Grinning a strained grin, he spoke.

"That t-shirt looks awfully familiar."

She giggled, her unfettered little breasts jiggling under the t-shirt, green eyes twinkling in amusement.

His body responded viscerally. How does she do it? How does she pierce me so deeply, so suddenly? He couldn't believe this angel before him. God but she's so pretty, achingly pretty, so innocently sexy, and she wants me, my daughter wants me, her father!

He sat quickly, falling onto the couch at the sudden weakness in his knees.

Amanda felt the familiar warmth flush through her body as Daddy's eyes darkened, his pupils dilating, knowing how to read him now. She still couldn't get over the fact that he found her arousing and desirable, yes, sexy, and she giggled, not at his comment, but at the movement at his crotch, a twitch in his pajamas. Her little heart felt like it would explode. Oh Daddy, you have no idea how much I love you, she said to herself.

She walked over and sat next to Daddy, pulling the afghan over their legs before reaching for her Coke.

As the movie started, as if by mutual consent, they put their drinks back on the coffee table and Sean rolled onto his side as Amanda stood. Arranging a cushion under his head, Amanda sat, then lay in front, pulling the afghan over them before reaching behind to pull Daddy's arm around her.

He hugged her tightly, inhaling deeply, filling himself with the aroma of his little girl as she snuggled back against him, pushing her petite, firm bottom into his groin.

"This is nice, Daddy."

Oh, yes it was.

For five or ten minutes neither moved, both enjoying the comfort of each other. It was Amanda who cracked first, gently taking Daddy's hand, moving it, showing him, here Daddy, here.

The feel of her small breast against the side of his thumb was exciting. He let the side of his thumb trace the firm swell of her breast, up and across a hard nipple, and down the other side, a perfect pubescent breast now in his hand, marveling that even though she was on her side, there wasn't the slightest feeling of sag, so youthfully firm. He felt his blood stirring, his semi erection growing.

She laid quietly, her breast in Daddy's hand, the nipple tingling, waiting. Come on, Daddy. Finally she could wait no longer.

"Daddy, it's your wish. You have to show me." She whispered.

She felt his response, his hand tightening on her breast, then a caress and, oh, his thumb scraping across her nipple. She involuntarily pushed her bottom against him as she felt an arousing throb in her clitoris. Yes, Daddy.

His hand left her breast and caressed her side, slipping down over her hip, down to her bare thigh. As he caressed her she consciously tamped down the building urgency inside her and tried to relax. It's your turn Daddy, she thought, this time it's for you.

Sean caressed his daughter's thigh, enjoying the feel of her silky skin and fine baby hair that had never felt a razor. His eyes were on the TV but unfocused, all of his senses tuned to his hand. He took his time, let his arousal build slowly. This time he wanted to last longer than a school boy, he wanted to fully enjoy his daughter, every moment, every touch.

His penis stirred, thickening as his hand slid higher on her thigh, as he felt the swell at the top, the hem of the t-shirt, pushing it up, anticipation of touching her panties building inside. His fingers felt out, seeking, looking for the edge of elastic. He imagined slipping them underneath.

Wait. Wait. It's her hip. She's nude underneath! No panties! Oh, Baby.

He held her small bony hip in his hand, his penis unfurling and straightening as he marveled again at how slim and small she was. His hand slid down over a soft curved buttock, caressing, memorizing the shape and slope, his finger tips tracing her butt crack as his hand moved slowly to the back of her thigh. Imagining his erection nestled between her thirteen year old buttocks, he became hard.

She felt a tingling start in her stomach as his hand ran down her bum, his fingers tickling her along the valley of her buttocks, moving lower and lower. A stab of arousal hit as she thought about Daddy's fingers slipping between her buttocks, deep between them, and his finger touching her where only she had touched before. She felt herself moistening at how illicit it was, how dirty it was, yet now strangely arousing. She sighed quietly in disappointment when Daddy's hand reached the back of her thigh, stopped, then disappeared. Where did it go?

Daddy moved behind her. Just as she was about to complain, his hand settled on her hip, warm and comforting, large. Her arousal suddenly spiked, heat flushed through her as she felt the soft touch of something mid-thigh, as she realized it was the tip of Daddy's penis resting in the crease formed by her closed legs. Goose bumps speckled her arms as it slid up the crease, radiating warmth as it slipped higher. She squeezed her legs together involuntarily, stimulating her little clitoris as she pictured the flared head slowly creeping higher, higher, to nudge against her pussy, Daddy's moisture joining hers. Oh, Daddy, hurry.

Sean couldn't believe the sensation on the tip of his erection as it hardened, dragging along the crease of her closed thighs, teasing him. He pulled his hips back, his erection snapping upright, and eased himself forward, pulling on his daughter's hip. He moaned as he felt his pulsing erection nestle between her small buttocks, warm, soft yet youthfully firm, heavenly pillows surrounding him. Oh yes, heaven.

He enjoyed the feeling of his erection throbbing against her, without moving, simply absorbing the sexual pleasure. He let his arousal build, waiting, waiting, pulsing. Then he felt it, the cooling sensation as precum leaked out, dampening the tip of his penis, air cooling. Yessss.

He slipped his hand over her hip, fingers leading, softly seeking. His erection throbbed as he felt his daughter's fine sparse pubic hairs tickle the tips of his fingers. In his mind he pictured the pad of her pussy, immature, prominent, almost bald, and sweeping upwards from her stomach, mentally mapping a path for his fingers. First rub her new pubic hairs, done. Next feel the swell from her stomach, done. Trace the creases between her pubis and leg, done and done. Now fingertips only, lightly feel the center, the beginning of her tight cleft that plunges between her legs, oh done. Follow the cleft down, oh, so sexy.

She jerked, buttocks clenching as his finger reached her cleft. He heard her moan and smiled. He liked her reaction, both emotionally and physically, his erection straining between her clasping young cheeks.

Amanda moaned as his finger teased her, as it felt the outline of her pussy, never quite touching where she wanted, driving her nuts with desire. Her pulse rate increased when his finger started moving down, her imagination afire, Daddy, hurry. Her hips jerked as she felt him touch her slit, she clenched her legs together at the rush of dampness, moaning, now in heat, feeling his erection throb between her buttocks, his moisture, his arousal. Goose bumps speckled her legs as Daddy's fingers slipped between her thighs, moving down, holding her leg, urging her to lift, to spread for him. Oh yessss, Daddy.

He gently rested her leg over his, his mind picturing her pubescent pussy, plump, accessible, waiting for him, her father. His hand trembled slightly as he caressed the inside of her thigh, such soft skin, warm, delicate, so youthful and desirable. He imagined it against his lips, kissing her slowly, moving higher, moving closer, the fresh clean scent of her arousal warning him he was close. His hand followed his imaginary kisses, higher, closer, there! Oh sweet Lord. A tremor shook his body as his index finger nestled between her leg and the side of her pussy. He felt heat radiating, his excitement surging at the touch of moisture, my little girl aroused!

Oh Daddy, yes, there, hurry, please hurry, she begged silently, her body trembling, Daddy's touch so arousing. Daddy touching me, Daddy caressing me!

He waited for his pounding heart to calm, feeling the tenseness in her leg, feeling her tremors. Not yet, my love. Precum leaked, her bottom tight against his groin, her leg over his thigh, his hand at the edge of her pussy. Yes, my wish.

Slowly, almost imperceptibly at first, he traced the edge of her pussy, up the side, over her mons, and slowly down the opposite side, the softest skin he could ever remember, little pubic hairs tickling his fingers. Her pelvis twitched. He heard her. "Daddy, please." He smiled.

She moaned and thrust against his hand as he cupped her pussy, her hips moved rhythmically, pushing, rubbing, sinking his middle finger between her passion inflamed labia, dampening his finger, humping her clitoris, her buttocks squeezing and massaging his aching erection. He heard her song, "Daddy, Daddy, Daddy" as he felt the pad of his middle finger touch her vagina, hot, wet, tiny. She writhed in his arms, breath panting, buttocks clenching.

Her hips lost their rhythm, now jerking against his hand and he could smell her arousal, a uniquely sweet, clean, young girl aroma. He pulled her writhing body tight against him with his hand at her crotch, pushing her clitoris. "Come for me, Baby," he whispered. "Cum for Daddy."

She froze, stopped breathing, rigid in his arms, then grunted. Her climax hit. She cried out, "Cumming, Daddy."

His thirteen year old daughter shook in his arms, hips shaking as her orgasm overwhelmed her, grunting, gasping, trembling, legs snapping together as her body cramped, her arms gripping his, holding on for dear life.

As the intense orgasm ebbed and her blood stopped pounding, her senses slowly returned. Oh, Daddy. It was supposed to be for you, not me, she thought. She had tried, she had tried to hold back, to wait for Daddy, but she couldn't, it was too much, the teasing, the touching, always getting closer to where she wanted him to touch. When he cupped her pussy she couldn't hold back any longer, her body betraying her, thrusting against his hand, rubbing herself, masturbating against Daddy, cumming, oh wow.

So good Daddy, she thought as he hugged her, his damp hand holding her breast, his other arm under her neck curling across her torso, her leg slipping off his thigh slowly.

She felt tears prickling behind her eyes and her heart thudding in her small chest, constricting her breathing, as she realized just how desperately she loved Daddy, so much it hurt, deep inside it hurt. He was so good, so caring, so gentle. My Daddy.

"What's the matter honey?" Sean had felt her heart pounding and her trembling, a different kind of tremble, not the residual effects of an orgasm.

"Nnnnnothing. Wait. Please wait," she said softly, tremulously.

She clutched his arm tightly to her, taking deep, calming breaths, waiting for the tidal wave of emotion to ebb. Finally, she could talk.

"It was supposed to be your wish," she said softly.

"That was part of it, Sweetheart. This is still my wish," he replied gently into her ear.

As she felt his words calm and comfort her she became aware of her body, of the cool dampness in her crotch, of the warmth of his thighs against the back of hers, the tickle of the hair on his legs, of his broad chest rising and falling against her back, of his warm hand cradling her small breast, and, oh, his thick penis warm between her buttocks, the dampness of his arousal cool against her skin.

She slowly squeezed her buttocks around his erection, thrilled with his response, a throb in his penis and his warm hand cupping her small breast tighter. She was surprised to feel her nipple tingle. Yes Daddy, it still is.

She squeezed her buttocks again and, as she felt the throb of his response, gently pushed her bottom against him. He felt so big, the top of his erection above the end of her butt crack, almost at her lower back. She imagined it buried inside her, how deep he would be if she could take it all, a stab of renewed arousal felt deep inside at the thought. She smiled.

She squeezed him again, this time rubbing her bottom back against his erection with a twist of her hips as she felt it throb. She grinned when she felt a twitch of his hips. Again she squeezed and rubbed. Her grin widened as her imagination took flight. She hunched her hips to move her bottom lower on Daddy erection, then pushed back, sweeping her bottom up, squeezing as she went, milking him, giggling when he groaned. Daddy likes. I like.

She did it again, and then reversed, moving her bottom high, pushing back and squeezing him as she slid her bottom down his penis. She giggled at her naughty teasing, then inhaled sharply as his hand caressed her breast, nipples tightening, more wetness on her bottom. She gently massaged his penis between her cheeks with a slow rhythm, ears on alert, waiting. When she heard him moan and his hips jerk she stopped, smiling when the moan turned into a groan. Just wait Daddy.

Bending away from his chest, bottom pushing tightly against him, she reached between her legs, lifting her leg over Daddy's thigh again. Her fingers hunted, seeking. Bending more her fingers touched the sack between his legs, she cupped it, feeling his testicles heavy within, careful not to squeeze.

"Oh Jesus, Amanda!"

She grinned again, fondled him carefully, using the throbbing of his erection against her bottom to guide her. When she felt a sharp jerk of his hips she pulled her hand back, letting her fingers slip through her lips drawing moisture up to her clit, drawing a gasp of her own.

Snuggling back against Daddy, she reached behind her back, delving between them to slip her hand over his penis, thick, hot and pulsing in her palm. He thrust, sliding the wet tip over the heel of her hand. With her eyes tightly closed, her clit ached as she remembered Daddy's penis pushing against her pussy, the feeling of her labia first being pushed inside then separating, stretching around him, his penis moving into her, stretching her more. Oh Daddy, I need.

She grasped his erection, squeezed it, pulled her bottom away and slipped the tip down along her crack, moaning in heat as she felt the wet trail it left, shivering she felt it scrape over her ass hole, and finally lust bloomed inside as his erection slid against her pussy, the helmet parting her lips. Quickly she reached between her legs from the front unaware of Daddy groaning, panting, fondling her small breast, or of his thumb rasping across her aching nipple. Her hand cupped his erection, making a damp tunnel as he started moving, thrusting back and forth, holding his penis tight to her cleft, pushing it between her lips, and grunting each time it hit her clit.

She pulled her hips forward, increasing the length of his movement, then, with a tilt of her hips she felt him against her vagina, hot, huge, pushing. She felt his hand leave her breast and curl around her small waist, pulling her back. She held her breath as she felt it, the incredible sensation of her vagina dilating, Daddy pushing, tight, tight. Breath exploded out of her as he burst through filling her, deep, oh so gloriously deep.

She felt his passion rise, thrusts, hard, penetrating deep, touching the deepest part of her, his withdrawals leaving her empty, the flared ridge slipping out and stretching her wide as he filled her again, oh, delicious fullness, his groin bouncing on her bottom.

"Yes, Daddy."

Her finger rubbed frantically as she felt him thrust deep, deeper than ever before, stretching her, fucking her, fucking her, glorious pain. She felt Daddy freeze, his penis swell impossibly large, buried in her deepest part, and, as she heard him gasp, as he clutched her tightly to his large body, her bum pressed into his groin, as she felt Daddy's hot semen spurt hard into her immature womb, she came, pleasure crashing through her, her pussy clamping down on his erection as it swelled and exploded hot thick cum into her again, her pussy clamping with every gush, again and again, filling her, leaking from her, Daddy, oh God Daddy, bliss, bliss Daddy.

The family woke a little later than usual on Saturday morning. Sean left Amanda's bed where he had carried her after their fun in the den, and entered his bedroom to the sound of the shower running. He slipped in hugging Sara's soapy body from behind.

"Hey, handsome. How are you this morning?"

Sara let Sean's hands slip up her stomach and cup her breasts as she explored how she was feeling. She was interested in the way she felt, knowing her husband had slept with her daughter. It was an odd feeling, on some level she felt jealous that he hadn't slept with her, but imagining herself in Amanda's position, she felt a stir of arousal, and a wistfulness, dreams from her youth coming to mind. She thought about how Sean might feel knowing she had slept with his son and wondered.

When he nibbled the side of her neck and she felt his penis begin to stir against her bottom, she decided he was fine.

"Stop it, Sean. I have to get breakfast." She wiggled out of his arms and stepped out to dry herself.

Sean grinned, his penis half hard at the feel of his wife's buttocks against him. Yup, ass man through and through.

They sat at the kitchen in comfortable silence, sipping coffee and waiting for the kids.

"Sean, are you still alright with this?"

He looked at her. "Are you?"

She knew deep down she still wanted reaffirmation that she was as attractive to her husband, that he wasn't becoming obsessed with the youth Amanda represented, that it didn't diminish her appeal in his eyes.

When she didn't answer him, he knew. She was feeling insecure and he couldn't blame her. It was a uniquely female perspective, worry over the attraction of a younger female, something males didn't suffer from as strongly. He reached for her hand, looking into her deep green eyes.

"Sara, don't," he admonished gently. "Look at my eyes. You know how I feel about you. You've always been able to read me with remarkable clarity. Read me now. And in case you have any doubts, don't forget what happened when I hugged you in the shower."

She smiled. "Okay, thanks, Sean."

They were interrupted by Andrew walking in, hair messy, still sleepy. They both laughed when he looked at his mom and blushed. It seemed to ease his discomfort as he grinned, colour fading from his cheeks as he once again rooted through the fridge, pulled out the carton of orange juice and, with the door open, drank directly from the carton.

"Andrew, really. I've told you not to do that. Close the door and get a glass."

He liked the fake sternness in his mom's voice.

Life in the O'Reilly household returned to normal. Amanda's gorgeous smile and peppy, "Hi Mom, hi Dad," was ample evidence she was handling things a little better than Andrew.

As Saturday passed, filled with the necessities of life, shopping, cleaning, changing sheets and towels, family relationships reverted to traditional interactions. Sean and Andrew disagreed over the afternoon's activities, Sean voting for organizing the garage, Andrew for the mall, friends, arcade. Andrew won, but only after promising to help Dad on Sunday.

Sara and Amanda chatted away as they changed beds. Amanda had more questions, at first embarrassed at asking, but her need for knowledge overcoming her reluctance.

"Mom, can I ask you something?"

"Sure Amanda."

"Um. You don't need to answer, but . . ."

"Just spit it out, Amanda. It's easier that way," adding as an afterthought, "it's the only way you'll get an answer."

"Um. Well, it's about you and Dad."

"Go on."

"When you, um, well, when you two are together, you know, well, is it like, fast?" She blushed, unaccustomed to speaking about her mom and dad's sex life.

Sara hid the smile. Her natural inclination to tease came out. "Sometimes."

"Um. When it's not, how do you, um . . ."

Sara stopped tucking in a blanket and looked at Amanda, noticing her rosy cheeks. She took pity on her, sat on the edge of the bed patting next to her.

"Sit."

As Amanda sat on the bed, she asked, "What's really on your mind, Honey?"

"Mom, Dad makes me feel so good, I mean really good. But I keep wanting it to last longer. You know, make it better for him."

"Do you think it's not good for him?"

"Oh no. I know he likes it," she blushed, "at least I'm pretty sure he does, but . . ."

"You want to know how to make love longer, don't you?"

"Uh-huh."

Sara and Amanda had a long conversation, Sara imparting her experience and her insight into her husband, educating her daughter on what to do, what to expect, how to handle different situations. She explained how much fun a 'quickly' could be and how to control a man's arousal. But she also warned Amanda of the consequences of teasing or titillating too much.

Amanda was happy with her new-found knowledge. As they finished their chores, her mind processed the information, imagining different scenarios, dreaming, arousing herself slightly.

Late afternoon Sara and Sean were sitting in front of the TV, Amanda had left to spend time with her friends, Andrew off at the mall.

"Sara, have you decided what you'd like to do tonight?"

"Sorry?"

"Remember? Tonight is Amanda's wish night."

It had slipped her mind. She thought about Sean slipping into Amanda's room while she was asleep, slipping into her bed, waking her with a kiss on her cheek then on her lips, the kiss deepening, tongues touching, Amanda turning into Daddy, moving close, arousal, nipples hardening, aching, need growing.

She took a deep breath. She could feel her body responding to her active imagination. It stirred a memory, young, ten and a half, dreaming of a warm body slipping into bed behind her, hands touching, pajama's being unbuttoned. Oh. She smiled.

"Yes. I've decided."

Sean wondered what the smug look was for, but didn't press.

That night, two wishes, surprisingly similar, were fulfilled.

Sean sat in the den sipping his usual Scotch and soda. He had changed after Amanda and Andrew had left for bed at 10:30. Sara had retired at 11:00. It was now late, 12:15 am.

Finishing his drink, he turned the TV and lights out before climbing the stairs. At her door, he paused, and then carefully opened it, quietly slipping in and closing it behind him.

In the low watt light from a bedside lamp he stood, looking at the small form under the covers, at the mass of red curls on the pillow, the small ear, and the thin shoulder inside a cotton pajama top, blue with a pattern of small teddy bears. My girl.

He listened to the soft sound of her breathing, imagining what it might feel like against his cheek, remembering how sweet it smelled, fresh, youthful. My little girl.

Bending at the waist, he pushed his pajama bottoms to his feet, his penis thick, not fully erect. Stealthily he lifted the covers, admired her small body, younger, remember? He slipped into her bed moving close, little girl smell, so sexy.

She awoke, a thrill coursing through her body as she felt the mattress dip behind her, my Daddy. She felt a tingle of anticipation, would he like her childish pajamas, the ones she had snuck away from her friends to buy, hidden from their sight in a double shopping bag? She shivered as he hugged her, pulling her back gently against his big chest.

"Amanda, sweetie, are you awake?"

"Mmm."

"Can I cuddle with you for a little while?"

"Kay."

He buried his nose in her hair inhaling her sleepy scent, so different from adults, heart-warming, sweet, innocent, so sensual. As his penis reacted, elongating and inflating, he pulled his hips back, not wanting to scare his young daughter, frighten her by his arousal at her tender age.

Leaning over her he kissed her cheek. "I love you," he whispered.

She cuddled deeper into him. "I love you too, Daddy."

He kissed her cheek again, softly, her skin so silky against his lips. His penis throbbed. As he lifted from the kiss his daughter turned her head, luminous green eyes shining with love, sweet red lips smiling. He leaned back down and kissed her lips, chastely, lips closed, thrilled with how small they were against his.

Her eyes watched him as he kissed, and she smiled as he pulled back. He kissed her again, slightly more pressure, holding her tighter.

She smiled when he stopped, rolling on to her back, her hand reaching, small palm on his cheek, green eyes smiling.

"Again, Daddy."

He kissed her lips again, then her little nose, then her forehead, before returning to her sweet lips, his hand cupping her face, soft and warm against his palm, so small, oh my.

Her little hand moved to his neck. She smiled as she pulled him to her, a kiss, little girl kiss, his daughter's kiss, his passion flared.

He brushed her hair aside exposing her slim neck, nestled his face against her, kissing her neck softly, girl, little girl, my little angel.

He whispered to her, "Amanda, my Amanda, so beautiful. Your Daddy loves you." He felt a hum from her small chest as he kissed her sweet neck again, passion now hot inside him.

Carefully, so carefully, he kissed, his tongue touching her lips briefly, her eyes opening wider. She smiled.

"Again, Daddy."

He shuddered as the tip of her tiny tongue touching his, hesitantly, innocently, exploring a new sensation. The tips of their tongues tickled and rubbed until she broke the kiss, breath held rushing out.

"Try breathing through your nose, sweetheart." He couldn't believe how real she was making it for him, his daughter, younger.

"Again, Daddy."

He kissed her, tongues touching again, he teased, drawing her out, drawing her into his mouth. Her hand on his neck tugged him as her tongue entered him. He felt her humming through his hand on her small chest.

As they kissed his fingers opened a button, then another, his eyes watching her. Slowly, so slowly he unbuttoned her childish pajamas. Her eyes popped open when his hand touched her bare skin, kiss broken.

She smiled shyly her hand covering his and she moved it across her chest, over the small mound of her newly spouted breast.

"Feel, Daddy."

He moaned. Firm little breast, perky little nipple, excited, she's excited.

He explored the shape with his thumb, her curves, the firmness, and, oh, the rigid nipple, small, pea-sized nipple. He kissed, more passion, his tongue testing the entrance to her mouth, gently sliding across her teeth, moaning as she played, her mouth opening, pulling on his neck, inviting him in.

This time he broke the kiss, heart beating. Rising on his elbow, he slipped her arms out, pulling the top out from under, looking at her small breasts, his eyes darkening.

"Oh, Honey, so beautiful."

He kissed them, felt the texture with his tongue and then opened his mouth to take her whole little breast into his mouth. Her arms wrapped around his head pulling him tightly. He felt her moan through his lips.

She had watched him as he bent to her chest, a pulse of arousal charging through her body as he sucked on her breast. She had been thrilled with how gentle and slow he had been, just like she had dreamed. In her dreams Daddy had seduced her slowly and that's exactly what he was doing. She pulled him harder against her aching breast. Yes Daddy, just like that.

She felt another stab of excitement as he slipped his hand down her side, under the waist of her pajamas, under her panties, and held her buttock, his big hand covering it completely. Her clit started hardening, a throbbing little bead inside.

He kissed her again, his tongue gently rubbing her lips. She moaned, opening her mouth to him as she felt his hand slide her pajama and panties over her bottom on one side. Reaching quickly she pushed the other side down, wiggling her lower body as her feet desperately kicked them off, all pretence of seduction forgotten, panting into his mouth.

He pulled away. She opened her eyes. Blue, deep blue piercing her, crinkles at the edge, a soft gentle smile. Her breathing slowed. My Daddy.

His warm hand rested on her tummy, heavy, good.

"Can Daddy touch you down there, sweetheart?"

She nodded, inhaling sharply as his hand slid over her pussy. She spread her legs for him, please Daddy, lower. Excitement electrified her body as the thumb of his left hand teased her nipple, his right hand easing down to cup her. She could feel her moisture damp between her lips. Hurry Daddy.

"Oh," slipped from her, almost a whisper it was so soft, when his finger covered her little cleft, pushed lightly, slipped between. "Oh."

"Does it feel good sweetheart?"

In a soft childish voice, "yes Daddy."

Her body thrust up from the bed when he touched her spot, her center of pleasure, blood engorging her lips. She growled when his finger tip slipped across her vagina, and reached up grabbing him around his neck, pulling him down, kissing, her tongue thrusting into his mouth, lost, lost, Daddy, hurry, now please.

"Daddy, now, please now."

His hand left her, deserted her, cold, alone, noooo.

"Shhh, sweetheart. Everything's going to be fine."

Her breath slowed, fever abated, soothing hand, Daddy's hand caressing her side, her hip, her thigh. A kiss on her tummy, she clenched, moisture flowed. A kiss on her mound, a stronger clench, more moisture, tummy trembling. Oh Daddy.

She was shaking with pent up desire as his tongue slipped between her labia, rasped across her hood, pushed, and probed, crying out when it found her small clit, nestled inside, hips thrusting up. Yesssss.

Reaching down she grabbed his head almost sobbing, pulling him away, too close, too close, too soon.

He rested his head on her tummy, her hands in his hair, she breathed, calmed. She knew she couldn't take it much longer, it was too much for her small body.

"Daddy?" she whispered.

His head turned to face her. "Please Daddy, please, can we now?"

She saw him rise, his body looming over her, arms straight, blue eyes looking at her, a smile, such a gentle smile.

"Are you sure sweetheart? We can never go back. We'll forever be joined by this."

Her little heart pounded, hard, hurting, tears prickled her eyes. "Yes Daddy. Please?"

A delicious weight settled on her, her arms wrapping around his broad chest, hair first tickling her nipples, then pressing her small breasts flat. Her knees rose, legs curled, heels resting inside his legs. She felt him hug her then roll. Suddenly she was astride Daddy, looking into blue, deep blue.

"It's easier this way, sweetheart, easier for you."

She lifted her bottom, his erection sliding through her bum crack and down across her pussy. She heard it slap his belly. She let herself down, his penis hot and hard against her tummy, and she swayed her hips, rolling his erection around, watching as his eyes darkened, pupils dilated.

Sitting up, pushing off his chest, she looked down, inhaling sharply at the sight of his huge penis protruding from her crotch. She felt him pulsing against her, lips spread, clit hard against him, her dampness slippery against him. Pleasure exploded inside when she slipped her hips forward. Oh Daddy, so good.

A gasp escaped as she slid back, hair damp against her forehead. Then, slowly, very slowly, she slipped back up his throbbing erection, higher, higher, close, yes there, the bulbous tip right against her vagina. Looking at Daddy, she watched his face as she tilted her hips, oh God, as his penis lodged at her opening, oh Daddy, as she felt herself stretching, stretching, tight, stretching.

"Daddy!"

She fell forward onto his chest as his erection popped into her, pressure easing, the tip of Daddy hot inside her.

"Shhh sweetheart, the hard part is over, it's all for you now." He held her so gently, caressing her back. My Daddy.

It pulsed. She felt it lodged just inside her, expanding and contracting, nice, big, thick. She teased, clenching it and grinned when Daddy groaned. Slowly she rose, hands on his chest pushing against him, rising, her knees spread wide to his sides. She looked down and saw for the first time Daddy's penis penetrating her, she saw her lips stretched pale around his thick, thick shaft, amazed she had stretched so much.

Sitting up straight, she looked into Daddy's eyes. She squeezed her vagina watching the strain in his eyes. Then slowly, in one smooth slow movement, she pushed herself down on Daddy's erection, felt it sink into her, a hot spear inside parting her, stretching her, filling her, oh yes, filling her.

They moaned in unison as she felt him deep, deep within her. She was sweating by the time she felt Daddy's penis push against her cervix. "Oh God, Daddy. So full. You're so big."

She looked down, surprised to see at least an inch of his shaft showing. Hands on his chest, bent over, red hair shrouding her face, she lifted her bottom, watching his penis, glistening with her moisture as she pulled up, moaning and trembling with strain as his flared ridge squeezed out. Suddenly it was too much, she slammed down desperate to feel full, to feel Daddy deep in her, all the way inside her, all the way, and she cried out in pain as his erection battered her cervix. Again. She needed again, needed him all the way! She drew up and thrust down but Daddy's penis didn't fill her. Why? What happened?

As the fog of her sexual frenzy cleared, she felt Daddy's hands on her bottom, holding her up, preventing her, stopping her. She jerked her head up looking at him. He was smiling, a gentle but strained smile.

"Not like this, sweetheart. Gentle, slow; relax and enjoy it, make it last. It'll be better, I promise."

Oh Daddy, he cared so much. She lay on him, felt him slip into her, fill her slowly, deliciously, his heart beating against her ear, his arms embracing her.

She felt him move his hips, she moved hers, an emptiness inside her, but better, even better was his penis rubbing across her clit, oh yes, much better. Exquisitely slowly they reversed the motion, Daddy sliding deep, full, gloriously full, the ache in her clit being massaged. Yes, yes.

They moved together as Daddy held her gently, moving in the slow gentle rhythm of love, deep long strokes, love building along with passion, sliding in, pulling out, tight, hot, satisfying. Breathing gradually deepened, pace built, bottom moving up and down, massaging him in her hot sheath, his penis scratching an itch deep inside her. Pressure built, orgasm near.

"Now, Sweetheart, now."

She groaned, her hips swinging, Daddy deep, empty, Daddy deep. Her pace built as her climax built, slowly, wonderfully.

He heard her song, "Daddy, Daddy, Daddy," and thrust harder, holding her tight, fucking his little girl, fucking his beautiful daughter, gritting his teeth, holding back desperately, waiting, waiting for her.

She felt it build, felt it mushroom inside, her heart pounding, close, close, Oh God! Here! "Cumming, Daddy!" Ecstasy exploded, her vagina cramped, hot semen flooded her. Oh God! Another wave, she clamped down, hot semen exploding against her cervix, flooding her small womb. Oh God! Again! Pleasure ripped through her. Blackness at the edge of her eyes, too much, too strong, liquid spurted from her as she cried out, Daddy cumming, Daddy cumming! Too much, too much for her little brain to handle, she slid into blackness as he climax crested.

That night the O'Reilly family slept the sleep of the dead, Sara in Andrews arms, exhausted from her son's vigor and enthusiasm, Amanda in Sean's arms, sated, completely and utterly sated and completely and utterly in love.

Before she fell asleep, she asked Daddy for another wish, to return to the motel for a night, just them, the two of them. Sean held his daughter gently in his arms, and promised, yes, next weekend.

While the new rules for wish night seemed to work, they would still bend further, with Andrew dreaming of morning, Mom in the kitchen, sweats and a t-shirt, hugging her, bending her over a sink, sweats dropping, panties falling, and with Amanda dreaming of Nascar, sitting on Daddy's lap facing the TV, skirt flared out, hiding her naughtiness, no panties, Daddy hard, sliding down, seeing how long they can stay without moving. Yes, the rules would continue to bend.

On Sunday night, Amanda dreamed of a motel and Andrew dreamed of a shower.

Sean and Sara made love, familiar, reaffirming, strong and passionate love. As Sean lay on her back, thrusting into her rear, thrusting hard and deep, Sara felt her climax build, her hand deep in her groin, rubbing hard. When she heard Sean whisper in her ear, "Oh Mom," she came explosively, squirting, soaking her hand, and Sean's hot thick semen filled her bowels as she cried out, "Oh Daddy."

That night, 1,236 miles to the west a storm was brewing. Rain turned torrential, driven horizontally by howling winds, big fat raindrops that would leave a welt on exposed skin. Electrical energy built, but not static, a different sort of energy that writhed and pulsed, and two weary travelers pulled into a motel, late, in the dark, seeking shelter, seeking rest.