"Daddy, can I sleep in here?"
Greg's eyes opened slowly. It was late and it was storming, which could only mean one thing...
His daughter Emily stood in his bedroom doorway, her petite silhouette backlit by the bathroom light across the hall. As his eyes adjusted to the light he saw that she was wearing her favorite pajamas -- one of his old tees.
Greg sighed. She had just turned 18 and was getting too old for this. That, among other things, was a perfectly good reason to tell her no. He opened his mouth to tell her to go back to her bed.
"Sure, honey," he told her instead.
She darted across the room to slip under the covers and into his waiting arms. He normally wore a shirt when it stormed, knowing his daughter would want to be held and just a little self-conscious of his own increasing bulk. Working as a firefighter kept him strong, but age had begun to give him a bit of a paunch. But tonight he had been determined to tell her no, so he had gone to bed in his boxers.
Emily snuggled into him as he lay on his side, seemingly determined to get as close as physically possible. Her blonde curls were slipping from her messy bedtime bun as she burrowed, tickling his chin and chest.
"It's loud," she mumbled as another crack of thunder shook the house.
"It's okay, baby. You're safe."
She hummed contentedly against his chest, wrapping her arms around his shoulders. Her cold little nose pressed against the base of his neck. "I feel safe, Daddy."
He held her as the storm raged on, the room occasionally illuminated with brilliant flashes of lightning. Emily remained relaxed in his arms for the most part, tensing only when the thunder sounded like it was directly overhead.
Greg focused on the soothing sounds of the rain, the sweet breath of his daughter against his chest. Sleep began to descend as their breathing synched and slowed.
Some time later, Greg slowly woke up again to his own heavy breathing and moaning. His cock was rock hard and rubbing against the softest, warmest little body-- he recoiled as he remembered his daughter's presence in his bed.
Emily was wrapped around him, still face-to-face, her slim leg draped over his hip. One arm circled his neck while the other hand rested over his heart, her fingers threaded through his greying chest hair. Her nightshirt had gathered to expose her panties and her belly.
Most alarmingly, her face was pressed into his shoulder, her breath coming shallow and fast as she rocked her little hips against him. He held still, mind reeling, trying to figure out the best way to detach himself and gently redirect her away.
He was hard, though, his erection raging and throbbing with every thrust of her hips. Ashamed, he swallowed a groan of pleasure and reached for her hips to stop his baby girl from acting out what was surely a dream or instinct that had taken over while she slept. He pressed his hand against her tight little bottom, stilling her movement.
