(NOTE: All the characters in this story are above the age of 18. This piece contains incest, anal sex, and group sex. If this is not your thing please do not read on. This story is a fantasy and in no way reflects my true views on incest. That said, I hope you enjoy! Please take the time to comment and vote if you do x)
It happened while my wife was away.
Our youngest daughter, our most difficult rebel – the runaway – came crawling back, no explanations, begging to come home.
Up to me, I would've put her over my knee and paddled her bottom for giving us so much grief, but she was all grown-up and I knew it wouldn't make a damn bit of difference. Motherfuck! We didn't know where she'd been for three missing years. My wife had cried herself to sleep so many times our bed was a sodden puddle. I should have been relieved Madison was standing before me in one piece. Instead, I was fuming.
I looked at her badly dyed red hair, her ridiculous sunglasses hiding her no doubt stoned eyes, her taut little belly exposed above those nasty cut off shorts, the tight material flaunting her nether lips to all and sundry. "Hey Daddy," she said, as if we'd said goodbye only yesterday, giving me a lingering kiss square on the mouth, her sassy boobs pressed into my chest. I jerked away. I should've sent her packing. I should've closed the door in her face as only a heartless bastard can do, only... Her eyes are exactly like Lana's, bluey-grey and soft and framed by the darkest eye lashes. I thought of my wife and knew she would never forgive me if I sent Madison away.
I followed my almost-twenty daughter in to the house, not saying a word about the tramp stamp tattooed in the small of her back. Goddamn those shorts were so small I could almost taste her crack. She had an ass identical to her mother's, tight and high and rounded. I wondered if she loved taking it there as much as her mother did, if she begged for it like Lana.
As quickly as that my blood was up, my cock heavy, a feeling of nausea crawling over my soul. I put Madison in the spare room – her old bedroom was now a gym - and got out of there, hoping to hell that distance would return my sanity, a normal state of mind where normal men did not consider the anal proclivities of their daughters, at least, not to the point of gaining an erection over them. I've always been an ass man, it's my particular weakness, one that my wife loves and plays upon for all she is worth. I told myself it was thoughts of Lana that boosted my erection. Standing over the bathroom sink I pumped in to my hand and told myself over and over it was Lana I wanted. Only, as I climaxed, I couldn't look at myself in the mirror because it was thoughts of Madison that overwhelmed me; Madison, my beloved girl, finally home.
We circled each other warily for days. I merely observed and didn't ask questions I knew I wouldn't like the answer to, which meant everything was unmentionable. I was waiting for my wallet to go, for Lana's jewellery to disappear, to wake up and find the appliances cleaned out and Madison gone. Past actions had eroded my trust, my confidence in my daughter less than functional. It left an aching sadness in me.
"Do you like this Daddy?" she asked.
I'd come home from work and found her sitting at the table sketching. I was pleased to see her being constructive and creative however one look at her naked back – intersected by two lines of a string excuse for a top – and a feeling of dread hit me. I felt like a fish being reeled in. My balls contracted when I saw her work, my heart went AWOL; she was talented my beautiful daughter, talented and perverted as fuck.
In a bold, realistic hand, she'd portrayed a woman kneeling on the bed, her head dug in to the sheets, her neck twisted to one side while she stretched apart her buttocks with her hands. I was the star player – depicted with not as much muscle as I deserved – perched between the woman's legs, probing her anus with my tongue.
What was I supposed to say?
Was I meant to explode and rip the artwork to pieces? Compliment her and say 'excellent technique if a little cartoon-ish, pity about the subject matter'? Was I supposed to feel shame? Madison had always been like this, far too street for her own good, her mission in life to shock and confuse.
Her pornographic work caused me a rush of blood, a kick in the groin and a raging erection. I said nothing.
"I always wondered what it would feel like if you did that to me Daddy," she whispered, not looking at me, her eyes burning a hole in my rampant crotch.
I really did explode.
"Jesus fucking Christ Maddi that is not appropriate." I got out of that room faster than the main event at the Melbourne Cup. Seventeen days until Lana came home from the States. How was I going to survive until then, living with the walking, talking reincarnation of filth itself? No wonder I was secretly, guiltily, relieved when Madison ran away. I'd always known what was coming: Hell on legs.
I called David the next day. He's five years older than Madison, head on straight, Lance Corporal in the Army; I'm so damned proud of my son. He was home for a rare R and R, and sympathised with my plight.
"I can't make it until next Monday Dad, but I'll be there."
That still left me four days to hold out on my own. I told Madison David was coming but I knew as I said it that I should have kept silent, I should have made her brother's visit a surprise. Was it an escalation of tactics on my part? I don't know. I like to think my rational brain was in control, that yes, my daughter was sexually attractive, smokin' in fact. I could acknowledge it like a man, but I would never, ever act on it.
Madison had other ideas.
Suddenly she forgot to take her robe and towel in to the bathroom, not once, but twice. Bringing her her things like a lackey with nothing better to do, I copped a look at her breasts, her nipples like little red cherries begging to be sucked, water streaming over them rinsing the soap off like cream. She stood there, not bothering to cover her thatch of dark pubic hair, holding the shower door open like an invitation. I watched drops of water streaming between her thighs and dripping from her curly hairs in to the shower stall. I threw the towel and ran but there was no escape from the image of that sensational body burned in to my brain.
My daughter's figure was so like Lana's in every way, bar the shape and size and colour of her breasts. Lana's were mouth-sized and sag-less with caramel nipples. Madison's breasts took after my mother's, rounded and full and much more than a handful. I'd always had a thing for titty sex, pressing big tits around my dick and delivering a pearl necklace. That had never been possible with Lana.
