For the next couple of days, nothing much happened.
Becky found herself mildly surprised by the development, or lack thereof. No small part of her had expected to be "on call" two or three times a day, engaging with her father in all sorts of increasingly explicit activities. But no thrilling new assignments came from her mother. Her phone remained silent, save for updates from various payment platforms informing her of a new incoming pittance.
By the second day, surprise had turned into slow disappointment. While she worked in the comfortable heat of the upstairs, she found her mind returning, over and over, to that moment in the living room.
Kneeling down naked in front of her father, exposed and vulnerable. Submitting to him utterly as he twisted her hair in his big strong hands. His thick cock sliding into her mouth - the sensation making her gag, but also setting her brain aflame with arousal, sending a taboo thrill through her whole body. The warmth of his flesh, the sound of his groans, the hot wet gush into her mouth as he came.
She wanted it. Again. She wanted it all. The strange limitations of their incestuous arrangement suddenly clarified for her, like shapes emerging from a fog. Was she allowed to initiate things with her father? Or was she just supposed to wait until she was summoned, like some sexual automaton?
"Okay, come on," Becky mumbled to herself as she tapped icons on her tablet. There was a good reason she didn't know the outer limits of this arrangement: the subject had simply never come up. There was no need to dehumanize herself or turn this into something mercenary and cold. Her father loved her. She loved him. They were family and, taboo as it may be, this was something they both wanted.
She wouldn't let the silence trigger her insecurities. Not when there was so much possibility in what lay ahead for both of them.
Becky sat for long minutes, half-naked, in her chair, before realizing she was staring blankly at her work materials without a thought in her head. Without a thought that wasn't pornographic, anyway.
She sighed, put down her tablet, and went to take a shower.
***
She padded downstairs in her underwear, nothing but a towel in her hand, and stepped into the roomy expanse of the downstairs bathroom. She didn't know if either of her parents were home, and normally she wouldn't use the downstairs bathroom while they were in the house, but she decided to make an exception today.
She turned on the water, stripped out of her somewhat threadbare bra and panties, and stepped into the glass enclosure of the shower. As per her mother's suggestion on the night of their first conversation, she left the door wide open. Anyone passing by would get a full view of her body.
As Becky soaped up, she found herself thinking of her dad again. She wanted him to see her like this. His gaze made her feel beautiful, loved, desired. He didn't look at her with the same feral eagerness some of her boyfriends seemed to exhibit when they saw her naked. There was lust there, certainly, but also something deeper, gentler, something she couldn't quite describe. Her dad had never been a man to show his emotions carelessly, and he often came off as brusque. But when he looked at her, she saw something in him soften and open up - and she liked the way that made her feel.
She took her time showering, enjoying the room the downstairs shower afforded her, which was downright cavernous compared to the cramped bathroom upstairs. She took full advantage of the luxury, soaping herself up twice and then washing her hair with luxurious slowness.
With thoughts of her first encounter with her dad still tickling her brain, Becky briefly considered pleasuring herself while she showered. But the unbidden thought of her mother coming in to scold her for wasting water dispelled the ghost of that idea.
Just before she turned off the shower tap, she thought she apprehended a shape through the steam that billowed through the bathroom. Nothing more than a shadow in the doorway: tall, square-shouldered, masculine. She was sure it was him. Before she could do or say anything, the figure moved away.
She felt a slight flicker of disappointment that he hadn't come in and made things more interesting, but it soon passed. There would be time for that later. For that, and much more.
Becky found herself grinning helplessly as she toweled off. Insecurities and uncertainties aside, she felt happier than she had in a long time.
***
Wrapped in a towel, she returned upstairs and got dressed. In this case, "dressed" was the smallest tank top she owned and a pair of boy shorts so brief they left little to the imagination. Her choices were partially but not entirely carnal: it was still hot upstairs, and she liked being comfortable.
She worked until about noon, then came downstairs again to forage for some lunch. She found her mother sitting at the kitchen table, cigarette between her fingers, a steaming mug of tea in front of her.
"Hi, Mom."
A wry smiled crinkled her mother's face as she took a look at her daughter's attire. "I see you took my advice of dressing provocatively to heart. I'll have you know that's one of your father's favorite looks."
"Next to nothing?" Becky quipped as she opened the refrigerator and began pulling out the makings of a salad. "I guess Dad is just a typical guy after all."
Marilyn smirked. "I wouldn't go so far as to say that."
There was a companionable silence while Becky assembled her salad, then sat down across from her mother. She ate no more than a few bites before curiosity got the best of her at last.
"Mom, how is Dad? He hasn't... well, you haven't-"
"Haven't given you any new assignments?" Marilyn stubbed out the cigarette. "I know. It's nothing to do with you. Vernon is very busy with a major work project right now. He's very tired much of the time and hasn't been in the mood for any sort of... activities."
"Oh," Becky said, feeling both relief and a little disappointment. She often found the tension of a high-stress work project could be mitigated by a world-class orgasm. It was a bit of a shame her father didn't seem to feel the same way.
A sudden vision sprang unbidden into her head: greeting her dad at the door as he came home, wearing nothing. Going down on her knees before him and putting his cock in her mouth before he could even close the front door. His groans of surprise and pleasure as he wrapped a strong hand around the back of her neck...
She realized she'd been staring into space, and shoved a forkful of salad into her mouth to cover her embarrassment.
Marilyn sipped her tea thoughtfully, her gaze fixed on her daughter. "Are you happy with the arrangement overall, Rebecca?"
Becky nodded silently and enthusiastically.
"Because if you're experiencing any problems with feeling guilt or shame, I want you to know we can stop if you ever become uncomfortable."
"I'm fine, Mom. It's... surreal and totally bizarre. And I sure wouldn't want the outside world to find out about it. But I'm having a really good time. Is Dad happy?"
"He certainly seems to be," Marilyn said, sipping her tea again.
Becky saw an opening and decided to go for it. "Mom, I had a question. Am I supposed to always wait for my 'assignments,' or could I... I don't know... start things with Dad on my own?"
Her mother raised one eyebrow slowly, her expression otherwise unreadable. "You want to start initiating sex with your father."
Well, when you put it just that way, Becky thought to herself. "Not necessarily. I just thought it would be good to know where the boundaries are."
Marilyn nodded slowly. "That's prudent. I think it would be best if we stayed with our original arrangement for right now, Rebecca. I hope this detail won't embarrass you, but the nature of the arrangement is part of the fun for your father and me. I'm no longer in a position where I want to physically gratify your father, but I do enjoy coaxing his fantasies out of him, having him describe them to me, and then calling on you to act them out. I hope you understand."
"Of course." The thought of her mom and dad bonding over sexual fantasies of her made her quiver, her breath shortening. It was perverted and strange and thrilling.
"I hope that doesn't disappoint you too much."
"No," Becky said. "Not at all. I think the assignments are really fun and exciting. Especially as they get more... sophisticated, I guess?"
"Good," her mother said. "I hope you continue to feel that way."
As she put her salad bowl in the dishwasher, Becky found herself wondering precisely what that meant.
***
She returned upstairs to her lair and checked her computer. She was surprised to see a large deposit into one of her online accounts. She opened it up and found it was from her mother.
Becky's brow furrowed. They'd talked about Becky receiving some compensation for her time - with her mother being careful to make it not sound like prostitution. It was difficult for Becky to feel like she wasn't doing sex work for her father. But in a way, that was what she was doing. It just happened to be work she enjoyed very much and had a personal stake in.
"Gonna be tough to explain this one on my taxes," she said, and snickered to herself.
The payment notification came with a note. Becky opened it up and read:
[Becky,
I've made a deposit into your account to help you with your bills and financial obligations. Please consider it a gift and not a payment. Your father and I want to help make your life with us comfortable and free of anxiety.
Please set aside some portion of this payment for new clothing purchases relevant to our arrangement. If you require any guidance, please ask or refer to the message history in my phone.
Love,
Mom]
Becky found herself laughing softly as she gave the command to transfer the money to her bank account. Her mother had such a precise way of writing. It was especially comical when the subject was basically "buy some sexy clothes to wear in front of your father so he can get turned on."
Not that she objected. The thought of lingerie shopping to please her dad was just the latest in a series of new and exciting developments. And, she couldn't lie to herself, it was nice to have money to spend.
