I turned the key in my front door and pushed it open. The post had been laid neatly on the table in the hallway, so I guessed that my daughter, Joanne, had already been home. For a moment I thought to call up to her but something made me hesitate. I hung my coat on the rack in the hallway and walked through to the kitchen, draping the jacket of my suit over the back of one of the kitchen chairs. The coffee maker was on and three-quarters full of hot coffee. Pouring a large beaker full, I sat at the kitchen table and took a minute to glance through the evening paper, before I went to change. One of the few changes I had made since my divorce had been to remodel the kitchen, making it more functional and masculine. Joanne had been fifteen at the time and had managed to persuade the courts that her best interests would be served if she lived with me. For the past four years we had enjoyed an easy companionship, more like friends than father and daughter.
I drained the beaker of coffee and climbed upstairs to my room, carrying my jacket slung over one shoulder. To get to my bedroom, I had to pass Joanne's and, as I walked past, I could hear music playing softly. I listened for a moment and smiled at the gentle jazz tunes that wafted beneath her door. I carried on to my bedroom and quickly stripped out of my work clothes and slipped into a bathrobe. Crossing back to the bathroom, I set the shower to hot and hung my bathrobe on the back of the door. the shower felt good, particularly after a long day fighting the stuffiness of poorly coping air conditioning. I hummed softly as I lathered myself and then towelled my hair and dried myself off.
Slipping my bathrobe back on I made my way across the landing, to my bedroom, but, before I could open my bedroom door, I heard an anguished cry from Joanne's room. I tapped on the door, gently.
"Jo, are you ok?" I called, through the wood.
The only response was another cry, slightly longer and quieter than before. I reached down and turned the doorknob, pushing my daughter's door open slowly. In front of me, Joanne was sprawled across her bed, her long silky black hair fanned over the pillow. She was naked and I could only stare, for a moment, at the beautiful young women she had becomes. Her belly was toned and trim, with her breasts rising firmly in two gentle swells. The browny pink islands at the base of her nipples were crinkled and puffy, while the nipples themselves were hard and erect. Her legs were bent, the thighs parted and her back arched, lifting her taught buttocks almost off the bed. I could see the narrow gash of her pussy covered with soft downy pubic hairs. I could also see her hand moving between her thighs, working a thick pink latex vibrator slowly in and out of her pussy. The rubber of the vibrator and the tender lips of her pussy were glistening and shiny with the juices seeping out of her pussy and she was moaning as she pushed the vibrator slowly inside her.
I could not take my eyes off the site of my beautiful daughter slowly fucking herself with a thick rubber cock. I watched as she moved it in and out then held the base of it, pressed deep into her pussy, as she caressed the hard nub of her swollen clit with her thumb. I could feel my cock swelling and rising as I watched her hand caressing her sensitive clit and the tender lips of her pussy. The sound I had heard had been cries of pleasure, rather than of anguish and she began to squeal more loudly, her legs stiffening as her whole body tensed, arching off the bed. Suddenly, her whole body flushed scarlet and her squeal was turned into a gasp as her body locked rigid, while her pussy gushed sweet, tangy nectar onto the bedclothes. Her squeals became grunts then gasps and, finally, a scream of pleasure. She relaxed, collapsing onto the bedclothes and easing the buzzing vibrator out of her dripping pussy. I goggled at the size of the vibrator and my cock jerked under my bathrobe as she pulled the fake cock out of her with a wet slurping sound.
Panting, she lifted her head and looked straight at me. I blushed furiously and dashed out of her room and along the landing into my own bedroom, slamming the door behind me. I was panting with lust and shame, my cock sticking out thicker and harder than I could recall in a long time. I closed my eyes and groaned, as I recalled the sight of her dripping pussy and remembered how I wanted to spread her legs and push my cock into her wetness.
Hurriedly I pulled on fresh briefs and jeans, stuffing my cock cruelly into the confining denim. By the time I had pulled a t-shirt over my head, there was a tapping on the door.
"Daddy, may I come in?" Joanne asked quietly.
"Just a minute." I replied.
I quickly hung the bathrobe on the back of the door and pulled the zipper on my jeans closed. My cock was still painfully hard, pressing against my pants but at least it was concealed behind the layers of denim. Glancing around the room I made a desperate check to ensure that there was nothing else betraying my arousal.
"Ok, you can come in." I called.
Joanne pushed open the door and stood there, for a moment, in a light silk robe that came about halfway down her thighs. Her still hard nipples pushed against the shiny material and the light from the landing window shone through the garment, outlining her figure and emphasising her narrow waist and flaring hips. I looked away, sure that she could not have realised that the light behind her had made her robe almost transparent. Slowly, she came over and sat on the end of the bed, almost close enough to touch me. I could smell the clean scent of her hair and body, overlaid with a wisp of a sharper odour that, I realised, was from her damp pussy. She reached over and took my hand in both of hers.
"I'm sorry Daddy, I didn't mean to upset you. I thought you were still at work." she whispered.
"You didn't upset me, sweetheart." I tried to reassure her.
"Then why did you run out?" she asked.
"Because I shouldn't have been thinking the things that were in my head and I shouldn't be looking at my daughter like that." I replied.
"Like what?" Joanne continued, "I don't understand."
"I wasn't looking at you as your Daddy." I explained.
"You mean you were looking at me as a woman?" Joanne laughed, "I am a woman Daddy."
"I know you are sweetheart, but I still shouldn't look at you in that way." I tried to convince her.
"Daddy, if I ask you something, will you promise to tell me the truth?" she demanded.
"I'll always tell you the truth." I promised
