Despite the fact that I had the memories of our debauched fucking the previous night floating through my mind, and that my cock was still nestled in my daughter's tight cunt, I was a little surprised that I started to get hard again. I had cum three times in the last... fuck, what time was it?
I glanced across Sammy's sleeping form to my alarm clock. 11:15.
I had cum three times in the last 10 hours. I hadn't done that since college, and I wasn't even sure if I had really done it then.
I knew Sam and I needed to talk. She initiated things this morning, but I needed to make sure I hadn't hurt her or taken advantage of her last night. Well, I knew I had taken advantage of her... she was at least slightly drunk and no matter how provocative her story was I shouldn't have fucked her. I couldn't say I actually regretted it though. She was easily the best lay I had ever had. The only thing I would regret is if she regretted it. Or if she didn't want to do it again. Because even though I knew I shouldn't want to fuck my daughter, I wasn't going to give this up if I didn't have to.
After a few minutes, she rolled away from me and on to her stomach, allowing my dick to slip out of her. She moaned at the loss, but made no other move. I used the opportunity to take a quick cold shower. The icy water helped me to tone down my pulsing hard-on enough so that when I got out I could relieve myself. I put on a pair of scrubs that I frequently wore around the house and headed downstairs in search of sustenance.
I wasn't prepared for the onslaught of memories that assaulted me as I walked into the kitchen.
The kitchen table was pushed back against the sliding glass doors leading to the patio. One of the chairs was in the hallway, and another was balancing on two legs in the corner. I knew I had fucked her hard, but I didn't remember moving chairs, and I certainly didn't remember shoving the table six feet across the floor.
God... the things I had done to her on that table. I tasted her and sucked her clit into my mouth. I had shoved four fingers into her juicy pussy. I had pelted her with my cock and I had shot my cum deep inside of her.
Dammit, I was hard again.
I spent the next few minutes straightening up the kitchen (and willing my cock to chill the fuck out) and decided on fixing breakfast for lunch. I got the French toast in the oven and had just finished cleaning the last of the dishes when I heard Sammy come into the kitchen.
I leaned back against the counter and watched her enter the room. She was wearing one of my t-shirts and walked slowly into the room, running her fingers over the kitchen table with a smile.
"Morning, Daddy."
"Morning, Sam."
"Mmmm... what smells so good?"
"I made some French toast, should be ready in about 20 minutes. Can we talk, Sam?"
"Mmm... I don't think so, Daddy." She shook her head at me as she took her usual seat at the kitchen table.
"What? Why not? We really need to talk about last night."
"Well, the way I see it, the only reason we would need to talk about last night would be because it was fucking awesome, or because you were sorry it happened. While I would love to rehash how you fucked the shit out of me right here," she said as she reverently glided her hand across the surface of the table, "I think we'd be better served making new memories. And I don't think you're sorry it happened. For the record, neither am I." She hadn't taken her eyes away from mine at all during her little speech.
"You're right, baby, I'm not sorry it happened." I really wasn't. "I am sorry that we had both been drinking. It might not have happened if we hadn't. I can't help but feel I took advantage of you. I'm your father, I shouldn't be doing those things to you." Not that I was prepared to stop.