Dancing and Romancing

I'm in the mood for dancing, romancing

Ooh I'm giving it all tonight

I'm in the mood for chancing

I feel like dancing

Ooh so come on and hold me tight

I'm in the Mood for Dancing -- the Nolans

*

I wonder how many men have banged their daughter after the senior year Dad-Daughter dance? My own guess is that whilst it's probably way less than one-hundred it's not zero, at least not now I've fucked mine.

*

"You look pretty," I said to my eighteen year old daughter, Alice, as she descended the stairs wearing the dress I'd paid several hundred dollars for. I was, if anything, understating it as she looked radiant, the dress silvery blue with a shine to it which made my daughter's skin look even more flawless than normal. The straps over her shoulder were part hidden by her long black hair in a two tightly knotted pig-tail which swept down over them, swinging as she walked and drawing my eyes to her cleavage, the side of her pert breasts exposed but the more interesting bits concealed. It swept down, clinging to her smooth stomach and shapely hips down below her knees to just above her ankles and the matching high-heels.

She reached the final step and then onto the floor, slowly twirling round so that I could see all the dress, including the way it slid down her back, the V cut ending just inches above her waist. I didn't change my mind, imprinting the vision in my memory as she finished her twist to end up facing me again. I was sure I wasn't the only divorced Dad, seeing his daughter every other weekend since she was three, who had a sneaky jack-off as she hit the full flower of her loveliness in her senior year; and if I was, I didn't feel guilty about it, what no-one knew hurt no-one.

She stopped her twirl, "Do you think I'm pretty?" she smiled and before she I could confirm it she added, "You're biased." She was still smiling so even though I was she didn't seem to mind.

"Guilty as charged," I agreed with a grin.

"You're looking very handsome," she replied, taking a few steps forward to bridge the gap that separated us, before reaching up and adjusting my tie, or at least pretending to as I'd checked it was perfectly straight in the mirror before she came down.

"This old thing?" I replied, leaving it hanging whether I referring to myself or the suit. In neither case was it true; even if the suit hadn't cost quiet as much as the dress it was still new, though at least I'd get more wear of it than the dress, which would be worn twice -- tonight and for Prom in two weeks time. And as for myself, I may have been nearing fifty, but I was still fit and toned and if my hair had streaks of silver in its light brown it was still all my own and more than covered my scalp.

"I'm going to have to keep an eye on you," she countered, "Otherwise they'll be a hot cheerleader making off with you."

I gave her a hurt expression and covered my heart with my hand as if I'd be mortally injured by a mis-shot Cupid's arrow, "I'm all yours tonight, no-one can rival my date for her beauty and brains."

She laughed, "So it's not just my body you're interested in."

This was getting a little beyond normal Dad-daughter joshing, but I went with it, "Not just your body..."

She cackled wickedly, a broad smile across her face, "You're such a bad Dad, but I shall keep you to that promise..."

"I'm not sure I promised anything, if a hot cheerleader approaches me it'll be you fighting them off with a stick not me," I replied.

"Challenged accepted," she said, "The only hot teen you'll be allowed near tonight is moi." She pointed to herself to reinforce her point. "I'll be all the date you need."

Given since I'd divorced her Mom I had been on plenty of dates who sucked and/or fucked on the first night, I didn't think she would be, but I decided that we'd already gone far enough beyond the bounds of normal decorum and didn't say anything. Anyway despite the fake repartee it was obviously not a real date, but a school tradition where the fortnight before prom all the senior girls got together with their fathers to show off their prom dresses and do bad dad-dances whilst drinking nothing more powerful than fruit punch. It was good wholesome fun and whilst I had banged a couple of college girls in my time, picking up seniors was probably now beyond me, even if they hadn't all been chaperoned by overly protective Dads.

Instead I offered her my arm, "Your carriage awaits, my lady."

"Thank you kind sir," she answered and we walked arm in arm to my car parked in the drive outside.

I lived a couple of towns over from Alice's and her Mom (and current step-Dad, number three, though strictly speaking number two had never married her Mom even if they co-habited for five years) and the school was just under an hour's drive from my house. It was an easy drive and Alice and I talked as I sped down the highways, about college and jobs and whether she could afford a car with her work in a burger bar over the summer and what she thought about leaving school and home and travel and all the other things divorced Dads catch up with their daughters about. Every now and then I'd briefly turn from the road to ask a question or reply to one of hers and each time I'd catch just a tiny hint of side-boob, as if she was teasing me with her pert pair, though my rational brain knew she wasn't, even if my animal side was storing up a jerk-off fantasy for later.

I'd timed the journey just right and we pulled into the school's lot as the doors were opening. I quickly got out and sped round to open the door for my daughter, taking her hand to help her as she emerged, like a young gallant taking his lady love to the ball. She smiled and thanked me, hooking her arm into mine as I escorted her towards the entrance. A small queue had formed, middle aged Dads with their daughters. I'm not boasting when I say I'd less middle aged spread and more hair than most, I am boasting when I say none of the daughters were anywhere near holding a candle for Alice.

We got quickly to the desk where a teacher was checking our names off against a list. "Tom and Alice Darina," I announced and was quickly nodded through.

There were signs along the corridor to the dance hall, but they weren't needed I could hear the sound of the band already playing and everyone else was already going that way. Alice tugged my arm excitedly, "Come on Dad, I can't wait to introduce me to your friends."

I nodded and allowed myself to be led, arm in arm, into the gym hall. Someone had gone to a lot of trouble decorating it, around the area marked as the dance floor pink and blue helium balloons bounced and swayed everywhere held downwards by ribbons tied to what looked like small plastic weights and silver streamers hanging down from every piece of equipment stacked against the walls. Around the outside were the tables, each one with a pristine white table cloth and another series of balloons attached to the centrepiece, a jar, a wine bottle, a model car - each one different. The band was already on stage playing tunes from the nineties which I recognised and more modern ones that I didn't.

The tables weren't formally booked but Alice knew which one her and her friends had chosen and she led me across the room to it. There were a couple of teens and their Dad's already sitting there, a redhead called Drew and Tony, and a brunette who could have passed for a twenty something graduate called Holly together with Mike. I had to admit the girls were both lookers, even if they hadn't been dolled up and glamorous for the evening they'd have turned heads, but at the same time neither could compare to Alice in the beauty stakes. Introductions were quickly made together with a small amount of small talk between us Dad and together with complimentary, if chaste, comments to each of the girls about how wonderful they were looking. A waiter came over with some non-alcoholic fruit punches and another followed shortly afterwards with some hors d'oeuvres, it was all very pleasant if not overly thrilling, though the way the girls chattered excitedly amongst themselves I guessed opinion was divided and as it was Alice's view that mattered I was content to count the evening as a success.

So far the music had been rock or disco beats, and whilst there were certainly Dads up their dancing with their daughters, it wasn't for me (though it some of it was perfect for the car radio on a long drive and more than one I tapped my foot too, remembering it playing out my boombox in my teenage years to drown the gasps of my girlfriends from parents downstairs). However, the singer tapped the mike and announced, "Here's a slow one for those Dads who haven't yet taken their daughter on the dance floor."

"Can we?" Alice grinned at me excitedly. I saw her friends were making equal moves on their Dads and I certainly didn't want me and Alice to be left the odd-ones sitting at the table alone.

I stood up and offered her my hand, "Will you do me the honour of this dance?" I asked formally.

Alice giggled and stood, taking my proffered hand, "Gladly," she said as we stepped out together onto the floor.

For a moment we split apart, facing each other, before I moved a hand to her waist and the other to hold hers, as Alice's free hand moved to my upper arm. She gave it a squeeze, "Very firm," she smiled.

"I work out," I replied as we began to move in time to the slow tune.

Whilst I'm a long way from Ballroom Champion status I've always been a good dancer, and Alice must have got her moves from me rather than her Mom (who had been adequate at best); quickly we got into a rhythm with each other, our feet stepping across the floor in unison and our bodies swinging together. I could tell Alice was enjoying it as she was grinning broadly, looking up at me, our eyes connecting. I became more ambitious, taking quicker and more complicated steps, making Alice follow me. She did, eagerly and energetically, every move I made being met with grace and style. Even when I leaned her over backwards, my hand moving from her waist to back, she kept smiling and eye contact, one foot balanced on the ground, whilst the other stuck out, pointing. Up we went and I found myself moving closer. The first slow tune had finished and another was playing, even slower, more romantic. I moved closer into her, half-forgetting she was my daughter.

She let go off my hand, slipping both of hers round the back of my neck. I moved my spare hand so it was near its partner, the two of them placed on her lower back. If I went inches higher I'd be moving from the material to touch bare skin where her dress opened at the rear, lower and I'd be cupping her ass.

We continued to sway together, close and in time. All around us other Dads and daughters danced with varying degrees of skill, energy and enthusiasm, but I only had eyes for her, if she was continually looking up at me, I was also continually looking down at her. I had always known she was pretty, but she looked even more beautiful tonight and I had to remind myself that she was my daughter or else her attractive mouth would have overwhelmed me and I'd have been in for a kiss.

It might have been because I was concentrating so hard on not moving my mouth down towards her that it took me a few moments to notice that my hands had slid lower and were now cupping her ass. For a moment I could feel the panic rising, but there was nothing on her expression to show Alice minded, if anything her beam was broader and her eyes bored even deeper into mine; glancing quickly around I saw that no-one was paying any attention to us, as they were too engrossed in their own dancing. I briefly contemplated keeping my hands in place, but quickly decided that whilst a couple of moments could be brushed off a mistake, it would soon seem deliberate. I moved them back up. Something close to pout briefly crossed Alice's face, a blink and miss it moment. Had she minded my hands being on her butt? Had she even been enjoying it? I wasn't sure, but I didn't want to risk finding out and for the rest of the dance I concentrated on keeping my hands in position as much as I did not leaning forward.

The song finished and I used the pause as my excuse, dropping my hands back to my side, "Let's get a drink."

"Sure thing Dad," Alice grinned, "We've got to keep our hydration levels up for our next dance."

She hooked her arm through mine again and I didn't pull away.

I had hoped a couple of fruit punches would have dampened my increasing ardour, but seeing her sitting next to me in her prom dress, which didn't quiet hide the sides of pert titties, didn't seem to do the trick. Even if I kept the conversation light and bantering I couldn't help remembering the roundness of her butt under my hands and her light brown eyes as she stared into mine. So when she drained the last of her punch and suggested we join the dance floor again I should have said no, but didn't.

I was careful to place my hands firmly on her waist, high enough so no finger could creep accidentally onto her ass, low enough that, equally, there'd be no inadvertent touches of her teenage tits. We started to dance, my hands glued to her sides, even if I was still looking down at her beautiful face, my eyes linked to hers. It went well for a few minutes, as we swayed gracefully to the music and then I noticed her hands were moving from my waist to my ass, they weren't gripping it or anything, but she was definitely resting them there and smiling as she looked up, as if she was daring me for a reaction. I thought for a few moments, wondering what I should do, grabbing her wrists and firmly moving them or breaking off for another drink and pretending I hadn't noticed.

And all the time my hands were moving surreptitiously, without any conscious thought, until I realised that she wasn't the only one resting them on the other's behind. As soon as I realised, I stretched my fingers out so only my palm was resting on her round rear, terrified I'd accidentally squeeze the rump and even more terrified she'd react by squeezing mine in public. I broke our gaze, looking wildly around the floor, imagining everyone was looking at us. They weren't, not even one person was looking at my hands, they were too much involved in their own daughter's.

I relaxed a little, it was innocent after all, I told myself, just a convenient place for us to both rest our hands as the band played a romantic slow dance, more suited to courting couples than Dads and daughters. I turned back towards my daughter, she was no longer dancing and looking up at me, but nestled against my shoulder and gently swaying against me. I could feel the softness of her pert breasts against my chest, rubbing gently at me as we moved and smell her perfume, a more sensual scent than I was sure it had been earlier. Goddamnit, I mentally swore to myself, as my prick began to harden. Generally, having a ten inch python isn't a bad thing if you're a guy, few women leave feeling anything short of satisfied. However, if it decides to get hard when you're crushed against someone it's pretty much impossible to hide; and in the same way her tits were rubbing at me my large dick was rubbing at hers.

I waited for a reaction. There was none, apart from perhaps, a slight squeeze by her on my ass, but so light I could have been mistaken.

What could I do but carry on dancing, pretending to myself I hadn't a hard-on and wasn't holding my teenage daughter's ass, whilst knowing I'd be masturbating hard tonight.

The music seemed to go on forever, my cock remaining stiff all the time. I tried to think of other things, non-sexual, like my company accounts or the flowers I was planning to plant next weekend. Nothing worked, not when I could smell the alluring scent of Alice's perfume and feel the shape of her pert little breasts against my chest. What was worse was that I was enjoying it, despite being so wrong. Even as I was imaging what colour I'd paint the kitchen an image of my daughter, naked and riding my cock, would intrude, so that I'd be thinking what would match with the floor tiles and Alice would be there, spreading her pink pussy and licking her red lips, blowing my colour scheme off.

I wasn't sure whether I was pleased that the song ended and I could break from her, or disappointed that it couldn't go on longer, so I could carry on swaying against her. I did the proper thing and split apart from her, heading to the table for a drink. A glance at the clock gave me an excuse, there was still an hour to go, but we had much further to drive than the others. I drained my juice quickly and turned to Alice and her friends, "We better be making a move, darling, it'll take us an hour to get home."

She gave a sexy little pout, "Just one more dance Dad."

Even as she was speaking a new song was coming on, a slow, sensual tune beloved on brides for their first dance. I knew if she took me on the dance floor we'd be dancing close, body to body, hands down to low, her bosom at my chest, her scent in my nostrils. But I couldn't resist as she grasped me and pulled me towards the floor. Silently cursing the DJ and his choices I followed, managing to say, "This one and then we go."

I was right about our closeness, she clung to me like a limpet resting her head on my shoulder as her arms enveloped me and my own hands slid to her butt, to hold it gently. I was wrong about the number of dances, as one slow and romantic song was followed by a second and then a third. It was only because the fourth was a bit faster I managed to break free, my cock so hard that it threatened to tear out of my pants. I was sweating by the time we finished, my entire body burning with lust for my daughter. I could hardly wait to get home and into bed, she wouldn't know as she lay across the hall that I'd be jacking myself furiously whilst imagining her soaking pussy sliding up and down my dick as she rode me like she was the Devil.

We swiftly said our goodbyes, me half terrified another slow song would start and she'd make an excuse I couldn't resist to drag me onto the floor again. I said something about it being a hot night and as soon as I entered the car used that as an excuse to turn up the air conditioning. Goose bumps appeared on her naked skin, but that was the least of my worries, wanting to fuck your daughter is much more bad parenting than leaving her cold. She didn't complain however, and the cool air at least brought some semblance of sanity back to me and after a few moments of talking about how enjoyable the dance had been I was able to steer her onto the college plans of her friends.

Our conversation on the way back was casual and chatty, and together with the chill in the air I began to relax. It wasn't like I'd forgotten our dances, but as I pulled into my drive, they weren't at the front of my mind either.

I switched off the ignition.

"I enjoyed our date," my daughter said.

"Me too," I said turning towards her.

"You're such a good dancer," she said. She was starting to lean towards me.

"You as well," I replied. I was going in as well as if a magnet was dragging me.

"So skilled and supple," she said, her lips remaining ajar after she spoke.

I didn't answer as my mouth was on hers, kissing her hard and passionately as she kissed me back. Part of me was screaming inwardly to stop, it was a small part though as the majority of me was enjoying the press of her lips on mine and entwining of her tongue as she probed and explored. A small break for a gasp of air, a brief look between us, smiles playing across our faces as our eyes connected and we were back again, our mouths moving furiously against each other as we made out.

I reached up and found her tits, squeezing them under the material of her prom dress. She was never going to be a big breasted girl, but they were firm and round and a perfect handful. Her tongue darted playfully and quickly as I squished her bosoms harder, my fingers pressing into the flesh. She made no move to stop me and her kisses seemed to be an encouragement, so I carried on kneading them, the round, firm flesh so malleable under my touch.