Foreplay : I've deliberately kept this story bare bones, you can fill in the gaps using your imagination.
*
The dim red display of the clock said 02:47 and Ashley lay still, on her back, hoping the bedside clock would speed up and allow the pale light of dawn to creep through the curtains. It didn't of course. Unless you had an ultra spacious dark blue police call box and the superior technical knowledge of a time travelling Doctor, time only moved slowly. Except, thought Ashley, when you had a date to keep and you rushed to make yourself the most desirable young woman in town.
She lay naked. The heat of the previous day, one of the hot sticky days that July often offered, hadn't cooled at all during the night. Hot and sticky, unable to let restful rejuvenating sleep take over her body, Ashley had tossed and turned for what seemed like an eternity. She lay still for a while but sleep never came. Lazily she let her hands wander, lightly touching the parts of her naked body she knew would give her pleasure.
She'd had a date, a date that went pear shaped, a date with her so-called boyfriend. A meal - a Chinese buffet, eat all you like, that her so-called boyfriend hoped would soften the blow of ditching her, would ease the pain of telling her he'd moved on. A rich bitch no doubt, with tits like honeydew melons, with lips that promised to suck his cock into submission, with a 'gina' - his word - that he could dip his eight inches into whenever he liked.
For Tom that was normal. He wanted to grope and fuck as often as he could, three or four times a day. He wanted to hide in an alley and have his 'jizz' - his word - rapidly coaxed into the throat of a young woman as if she were a street whore, then have her again, laid on her back on his sagging bed in his cheap apartment, have him stuff his long hard and very full cock inside her until he came again and she was sore, unsatisfied, and (if she was very lucky, for he cared only for his own pleasure) brought rapidly to climax by his tongue.
But Tom, Ashley knew well, had another side, a patient loving side that she had experienced. That, though, was just until he had her confidence, had her decide that, yes, she would enjoy being his girlfriend, his temporary partner, his fuck buddy. He was Jekyll and Hyde, one day bringing her chocolates and the next leaving her so sore it pained her for the next 48 hours.
She peeked again at the dim digits of the clock - 02:56, only 9 minutes had passed. She turned on her side, curled as if she were still in her mother's womb, eyes closed, trying to relax her hot, naked, sweaty body. She counted imaginary sheep then counted again to take her mind off being ditched, dumped, cast aside for some dumb blonde bitch with tits. It didn't work. At 03:09 she stretched in her bed, let her talented fingers attempt to arouse her, her two favourite fingers dipping into what was a place only slightly wet from her earlier touches, lightly tickling her clit at first then a more determined effort to bring herself off, then a frenetic two minutes before she gave up. It was too hot and the mental pain of another breakup meant her attempt had to be aborted
Finally she got up, pissed as quietly as she could and crept downstairs to where she'd left her laptop, her nakedness hidden only by a near see-thru black dressing gown. There was a story she had bookmarked in her browser, a short story of love, a rather raunchy love story, one of brief but potent passion. Three o clock in the morning wasn't an ideal time to hold her concentration so she sought a shorter kiss-me-then-fuck-me read. Her attention was captured by the true story (or so the author proclaimed) of a girl, 19, seduced by her daddy. Ashley rose, slipped the sheer dressing gown off her shoulders. She smiled to herself, her nakedness only just beginning to arouse her. collected a can of her own daddy's Best Bitter from the fridge.
Returning to the dining table she surfed what she could find, looking at fit toned men wearing bulging posing pouches making little attempt to hide what lay inside. It wasn't often that she drank daddy's beer but there was no other choice until the fridge was replenished. The ice cold beer cooled her and quenched her thirst. The strength of her daddy's choice of beer - he would only buy the local potent micro brewery special - helped her relax.
Thoughts of the earlier story echoed in her brain. What if it could happen here? Sure her daddy took notice. He would pass a compliment if her makeup pleased, if a new blouse showed extra cleavage, if her perfume teased his senses. It might be a simple word or two, a pat on her butt, a kiss on her cheek, a sneaked glance down her cleavage hoping he wasn't being too obvious. Never when her mother in the same room or within earshot though, never ever.
She retrieved the story, bookmarked the page, edited the title and re-read it slowly, sipping a second can which further eased her inhibitions. As a passing thought she switched to the inbuilt camera, clicked 'video record', rose from her seat and posed. Seeing her own reflection she cupped her breasts, pouted her lips and began a slow teasing sway of her hips. Fully naked she ran her hands up and down, under and over her breasts, tweaked her nipples and suggestively teased her pussy lips with one hand, the other beckoning 'come here'. She parted the skin folds of her silky smooth mound, moved her 'come here' hand and lazily teased her clit. She smiled, no longer the daughter of her daddy, but a seductive mistress offering what pleasures she had to her master.
Satisfied that she'd lured some unwitting male into her web she sat again, replaying the video. As it progressed her fingers went once more through her pussy lips to the cave beneath. The lips atop her cave now glistened with her own secret nectar, the lubricating oil of her love tube. Her clit now stood proud as she clicked her laptop back to the story. The girl, Glenda, was satisfying her daddy with an urgent deeply sensual kiss, whilst he dipped into her secret cave, manipulating her clit with his talented fingers. Then all at once it was not his fingers but Ashley's - no, Ashley's own daddy fingering her clit.
So engrossed in the story, Ashley hadn't heard the door open, nor had she heard her daddy come behind her, reading the same story on the screen.
"Ashley," he said quietly, "What are you doing? And what was that video? It sure looked like you."
Alarmed, Ashley snapped back into reality. "W - w - what ...?" she cried, turning quickly with her face turning the shade of a freshly boiled lobster.
"I heard you go downstairs and when you didn't come back to bed I was concerned you might be ill. I didn't expect to see this ..."
"I couldn't sleep," she replied, suddenly realising she was giving her daddy full view of her ample firm breasts, her nipples poking out like coat pegs. She crossed her arm over to cover them.
Her daddy laughed, "Like mother, like daughter," he said, "She still uses an age old cure for Insomnia."
