I'd like to express my appreciation to my editor KenjiSato, for his support and expertise so willingly given. I felt pretty confident about this one, but once again you showed your quality.
I wish to thank you, the readers, that voted on my story, and the commenters. I'm new to this, so I certainly appreciate it. LordDean, I felt a little threatened by your comment, so here you go!
_______________
Kiara put on shorts and a top, giving her firm tits, a beautiful rounding, her cleavage showing an ample view to whomever was interested. She told herself that she didn't do it for her Daddy. It was summer, and she happened to like wearing tops. Hers were not large and saggy, like her Mom's, but well-shaped, perky breasts.
She threw her nightgown into the laundry basket, on top of her dad's t-shirt and socks. A step closer, she saw his pants, and groped over the dried-up spots around its crotch. A tingle went through her, straight to her pussy. She smelled his pants carefully; sniffing her father's masculine scent.
All night, she had been tossing and turning in bed, replaying the incident between them in her head. She had been afraid that her mother would ask questions about the blobs of dried semen smeared all over her skirt. She had washed it right away.
Tossing her dad's pants aside, she felt an exciting urge to have breakfast with her dad. Quietly, she walked down the stairs, so as not to disturb her mother, who had been working a night shift. Walking into the kitchen, the smell of fried bacon greeted her.
"Good Morning," she surprised her father, hunched over the counter. He wore a pair of khaki pants and a blue button-down t-shirt. She'd seen it before.
"Hey! I have fried bacon with eggs for you," he said cheerfully, sweeping a hand through his wavy, brown hair; she couldn't see anything offbeat about his matching brown eyes, nor the smile on his face.
She nodded contentedly and sat down on the wooden chair.
"There's also salad, baby."
The breaking of her bread, the sipping sounds of her father drinking his coffee, the clock on the wall--they all testified to the silence at the kitchen table. She hadn't spoken to her father since he had shot his cum onto her yesterday.
"That boy giving you trouble?" Philip tried to get a conversation going, aware of the tension between them.
"No, I broke up with him," she said. "Or, he with me. Not sure," she added, seemingly uncaring.
Philip laughed softly. At least that was good news. He couldn't stand having to look at him one more time, after what he'd tried with his daughter. She deserved better than that boy.
Kiara's bare feet slid across the cold tiles forward, bumping into her father's leg. "How was your night, Daddy?"
Kiara giggled, as she watched her father's jaw grind, his mouth full. She waited for an answer, sweeping her foot up his leg. "You shouldn't take too much hay on your pitchfork, Daddy." Her toes pressed up against her father's crotch, when she pronounced the word 'pitchfork'.
Philip's face turned red, almost choking on his food.
Kiara just smiled, a warm tingling went through her, as she rested the weight of her left foot on her dad's dick.When her eyes met his, and felt his hands on her legs, she smiled affectionately. "I love you, Daddy."
"I love you, too, pumpkin. Are your legs tired?"
She still smiled when she answered. "No, Daddy, they just like to be near you."
"It's not right," he mumbled, pushing them off his lap.
"My feet are cold." And with those words, she pushed her foot back in between her father's legs.
"Ohhh," he sighed, in amazement. He had been tossing and turning in bed that night, just like his daughter. His cock was still stiff that morning, when he got up. It didn't surprise him that he felt his dick wildly jerking up, pumping full with blood. It was as if his penis was always on standby near his daughter.
Kiara carefully laid back the scraps of egg that had fallen from her bread, smilingly searching for his eyes.
Philip rested his hands indecisively on her leg. A soft growl sounded in the kitchen, as her toes rubbed along the length of his hard-on.
Opposite him, the wooden chair scraped over the hard tiles. Kiara got up and walked over to her father. A sensual look in her eyes. "Is there still room for me?" she asked, flushed. They both looked down, his knees wide apart, the tent in his pants clearly visible.
"You can sit on my leg," he answered, with his hoarse voice, almost unintelligibly.
Kiara saw and heard a different side of her father, and that pleased her greatly. It was the kind of a voice a man would have when he was involved in some sexy fun with a woman. She straddled him, giving him a soft kiss on his mouth. "So, how was your night? Did you sleep well?"
Philip heard none of the words. Her firm, soft legs resting on his; her perky, soft breasts pressed against his hard stomach. Her soft belly pressed into his erection--he nearly came right then.
"Honey," he began, but was cut off by Kiara's finger pressing against his mouth.
"Let me guess," she spoke softly, both her hands fumbling with the buckle of his belt. "You beat your big Daddy cock all night?"
"No, of course not," he chuckled indignantly. "And stop inappropriately touching your father!" he added nervously.
"I have always liked the buckle on this belt." She stared down at his golden belt buckle and the brown leather. "It would look great on blue pants."
"Yes," he hissed.
With trembling hands leaning against his plate, he saw his daughter deftly unfastening his buckle. The belt laid limply on his erection, which was quickly grabbed by her, bumping her hand against his bulge. He moaned, Kiara giggled, unfastening more of his belt, then letting it hang to the sides of the chair.
"Isn't that better?"
"Yes."
