Chapter 6: A Father-Daughter Dance with Feeling
Instantly, he recognized the song. One of his favorites; a song of passion and beauty, which inexplicably filled him with a sense of longing and emptiness on the one hand and of sweet gentleness on the other. The song inevitably produced vague, vaporous notions of things lost and never again found, opportunities missed and never regained. It was nothing he could put his finger on specifically, but he loved the song for its ability to produce in him that pang of melancholy. The strains of Eric Clapton's, "Wonderful Tonight" filled the air, as her hands gently, but firmly, drew him closer.
"Dance with me, daddy," she beckoned and she moved into his arms.
Wordlessly, he allowed himself to be drawn to her. Their bodies touched lightly, and the feeling jolted him like a surge of electricity. How often have I fanaticized this moment, he thought, as she directed his hands to encircle her waist? Sparks showered in his mind as she moved to him, and he felt the hard points of her nipples pressing into his chest. His hands, fingers spread at the small of her back, drew her tightly against him. Her arms lifted to encircle his neck, her breasts brushed his chest, and she rose on tiptoe to bring her lips against his ear.
"You remember this song, don't you, daddy?" Her voice was an erotic, pulsing growl in his ear.
He nodded his head against her cheek, feeling her lithe body melting against him.
"The Girls' Cotillion Ball last winter? The father and daughter dance?" she reminded him softly.
"I remember," he whispered, and indeed he did remember. The first and last time they had danced together it was. She was wearing a white evening gown with a scooped neckline that revealed a modest amount of her developing cleavage. They had danced well together, if he did say so; she followed his every lead perfectly, as if they had practiced for days. He held her close to him and felt her ripening curves even then. He was nearly overcome by the moment and attained an erection in spite of himself, but he thought at the time that she had not noticed because of the thick folds of her skirt.
She can scarcely fail to detect it this time, he thought, as her body brushed deliberately against him. They were a perfect fit, this father and daughter; exactly the right proportions to meld into a single, moving entity. She flowed into him, letting her curves mold themselves to his hard angles. Her breasts flattened against his chest. Her head lay languidly on his shoulder, her lips pressing lightly against his neck. On tiptoe, her mons came into full contact with his bulging groin and brushed against his hard maleness with each sway of her hips. She pressed and rode his hardness within her cleft. He thrust himself toward her, and she encouraged him by stroking the back of his neck with her fingertips.
They glided across the deck, barely contacting the surface, swaying in easy rhythm to the music. She adjusted, widening her stance, and accepted his knee between her legs. They moved closer and he felt the moist, wetness of her mons opening against his thigh. His burgeoning cock throbbed against her hip. She thrust her hips at him and her pussy opened wider, spreading its slippery wetness along his thigh. He felt her shiver as her clitoris scraped his skin. He lifted his knee to increase the pressure for her and she ground herself upon him like a cat rubbing herself.
He felt her lips moving against his neck, speaking to him, but the blood rushing in his ear drowned out her words. He drew her closer. She spoke again, her lips directly on his ear.
"I know what you and Mom fight about, Dad. I know how she treats you and I hate it."
His arms encircling her narrow waist stiffened, but she moved encouragingly against him. His hands lowered to cup the full globes of her buttocks and pulled her closer. He felt the wetness of her sliding restlessly on his thigh.
She whispered, "I can help you that way, daddy; I can make it better for you, if you'll let me."
"Oh, baby," he groaned hopelessly, and he felt his cock give a tremendous jerk against the girl.
She slowed, paused, and leaned back slightly to look into his eyes. Her mons, its thick, slick fluid flowing freely, remained tightly pressed against him. She grasped his hands with hers and lifted them to her neck, never taking her eyes from his.
"Untie it," she commanded, her voice dripping with hot emotion.
His trembling fingers obeyed, tugging at the limp bow till finally it released. He dropped the satin ties like they burned his fingers.
"Now, take it off," she said, instructing him huskily and stepped back slightly to allow him space. Her eyes burned hotly into his.
Tentatively, his hands moved to comply. He hesitated, hands hovering just above the material clinging wetly to her breasts. He looked at her imploringly, begging for additional encouragement.
Her eyes narrowed to sultry slits, her tongue moved over her lips with impatient hunger as she repeated, "Take it off, now, daddy. I want to be naked for you."
His hands moved obediently, gathering the damp material and lifting it off her breasts. He raised it from her shoulders, and, leaning forward to reach around her, he began, slowly, to peel the damp fabric off her body. This slowness, the tantalizing consequence of his indecision, produced a powerfully erotic effect. His nostrils flared as his cheek brushed hers. The flimsy fabric stuck to her skin resisting removal. She moved closer to him to give him access to her body, and her hands reached for the bulge in his shorts. Her fingers brushed him lightly. Her gown crumpled in his tightening grip. She traced the outline of his manhood with her fingernails through the thin fabric of his shorts. He reeled at her touch. Her fingertips circled the head of his cock, scraping lightly along the prominent ridge of his glans, and encountered a spreading stain of wetness. Her hand closed on the shaft, and she felt the strong beat of his pulse through his shorts. She stroked his cock through the fabric and felt him shudder under the intimate caress of her tiny hand. His mind, completely absorbed in the sensation of her fingers, lost control of his hands, and they fluttered uselessly at her back.
She watched him heatedly, feeling his breath flow over her breasts. Holding his manhood tightly with one hand, she gripped his zipper with the other and ripped it down. Instantly, her fingers crawled across the fabric and wiggled through the opening. Groping through the thicket of pubic hair, she found him. Her fingers took possession of his hardness and drew him out. His naked cock pulsed as she closed her fingers around him. He rose slightly on tiptoe, as though buoyed by the immediacy of his need. She stroked his turgid flesh with the tight ring of her fingers and expressed a surge of precum that sparkled in the moonlight momentarily at the tip. She looked down at the object of her attention. She covered the swollen glans with her cupped hand, capturing the flow of precum in her palm, and smeared the fluid over the twitching head. He was ecstatically delirious. He pushed against the restraining ring of her fingers and thrust himself into the void beyond. She drew him closer, bringing the tip into contact with her mons and nuzzled with the swollen ruby head against her burning clitoris. She spread her thighs to receive him and drew his glans along her wet furrow. The thick head drug across her clit, pressing hard against the tiny bud, then burrowed deeply between her spreading lips. She shuddered and looked up at him.
"Take it off, daddy," she panted in a breathless gasp, and his head bobbed in startled return to attention.
"Oh, baby," he breathed at her almost inaudibly, while his hands finished removing the negligee. The spent cloth dropped to the deck at her feet. His hands slid over her shoulders to the slope of her firm breasts. He circled her golden globes, feeling their heft and firmness, marveling at the exquisite texture of her skin. Pincerlike, his thumbs and forefingers took possession of her distended nipples. Hot, hard little points, nearly the size of the terminal joint on his little finger, her nipples trembled with exquisite sensitivity. His nails dug into tender flesh, and she arched her back, thrusting her breasts at him eagerly. He captured her nipples with both hands and crushed them between his fingers and palms. She flinched, but did not cry out. She closed with him and threw a leg up and around his hip, exposing and spreading her pussy. She jerked his cock tight against her pussy, frantically rubbing the head in the wetness of her slit. She pushed her hips forward, her grip on him tightened and she began swirling the head of his cock in tiny wet circles to find her entrance. The opening presented and his glans filled it. She pulled at his cock, trying to stuff it into her, but the angle was wrong. She succeeded in lodging the tip within the mouth of her vault but no more. She hung, suspended on the point of his dick, clinging to him, while her hand rubbed the length of his exposed shaft. She longed to be filled with him, to take the measure of the length and girth of his strong cock with her cunt. She needed to savor the feeling of engorgement as his fat dick plowed into her belly. Frustrated, she stepped back, clenching his dick in her hand, fearing to relinquish her hold lest he fail her.
"Fuck me, daddy. Fuck me, now," she gasped, jerking his stiff member to emphasize the urgency of her lust. She fell back, and he caught her by the shoulders, lowering her gently to the carpeted deck. She lay on the floor at his feet. Her breasts heaved with the breathless rise and fall of her chest. Her eyes were wide with desire. Her mouth opened, tongue emerging, the pink tip sweeping her dry lips. Her thighs parted widely revealing wet, matted hair. Her belly and thighs were coated with her wetness and shone slickly in the light. The lips of her pussy, plump and hotly pink, distended by her need, flared open for him invitingly. Her hands reached up to him.
"Come on, daddy, hurry please. I need it. I want it, please. Fuck me."
He towered above her prostrate body, driven nearly mad by his own lust. His eyes swept her body, relishing each detail with insane obsession. He stood between her thighs, panting, drawing deeply of the hot, wet smells of lust rising from her open pussy. His hand gripped his cock near the base, and he waved it like a wand over her heaving belly. Sharp pangs of irresistible desire stabbed at his loins. Her words, her scent and the image of her ripe, prostrate body, legs parted in invitation, swirled in kaleidoscope colors in his brain. Reason, logic, morality broke like reeds before the gale of his need to possess this girl. Passion seized him in its unyielding grasp; undeniable, unquenchable lust shredded the fading remnants of his resistance and he succumbed. He gave himself over to the lustful desires raging in his loins. Mind, body and spirit bent to the will of the cock throbbing in his hand. It was the center of his universe, the core of his being. All thought, all meaning, everything he had ever held dear, yielded in that moment to the fierce rushing need of his cock.
