They were embracing in the bathroom. She hummed, just rubbing her hands up and down his back, down on the cheeks of his ass, rocking her hips up against his and looking up for a kiss. His lips pursed, but he nodded and said:
"Still not morning, and if you want it to be as good as I do, ..."
"Mmmm!" she hummed, nodding, clasping their hips together.
"Back to bed then, ..."
"To sleep, perchance to dream," she added.
As they loosed their embrace, he murmured with a smile:
"Even if you don't dream of me."
"Or you, of me. ... Just be there, where I want you."
Her father nodded and turned off the light. Without further words, they returned to the bed in the dark. As he curled up behind her, and his hand found her breast, she sighed with a soft moan, feeling his head nodded on the pillow behind hers and his hand squeeze her breast. It was going to be difficult for her to go back to sleep after the arousal from their talking and from feeling his naked body nestled warm behind hers. She suddenly remembered a verse:
"The children were nestled all snug in their beds,
While visions of sugar-plums danced in their heads"
They weren't children, but were nestled all snug in their bed, just one, but more snugly. And her visions weren't of sugar-plums. Or could a pair of balls be a pair of plums? As a kid, she had once put a small plum in her mouth and suck and licked it, hoping it would taste sweet. It did, when she bit it, but she wasn't going to bite her father's balls. Now she wanted to believe the plum had felt like the balls she had sucked, Pierre's and her father's. It must have, about the same size and shape. Have to remember try that that the next time she could eat a plum, and remember to tell Marlie and her father. Briefly, she wondered if there was any fruit or vegetable that was like a cock, just pleased with having found plums for balls, but then did fall asleep.
She was dreaming again. She was in an open air market looking at displays of vegetables. It seemed to be the one in the town where the finishing school was; she had been there shortly after she arrived in the fall. Why was she there? She was looking for something, but she didn't cook, never had. What was she looking for? The carrots looked nice, especially the ones that weren't too small. And the cucumbers also looked nice, but they seemed for some reason too big. But at the next stand she saw some small cucumbers that she liked better, nice green ones, the size to make salted pickles, but she didn't cook, much less, make pickles.
What was she looking for? At another stand she saw long white things, remembering that the German girl had said that they were a type of radish popular in Bavaria. That stand also had dirty looking long black things, about the same size. She didn't like them, but somehow they still seemed attractive. She liked the white radishes better, but the small cucumbers seemed even nicer. Why couldn't they also be white? She wanted to hold one, just wrap her fingers around it, but, of course, she couldn't pick one out of the display. Why did she want to, why was she there looking for vegetables like that, when the shiny apples looked so attractive? Her dream faded away with her unanswered questions.
She was awakened by fingers squeezing her breast. After the nights in bed with her father, she immediately knew it was his hand holding it, before she felt his body move slightly and heard him chuckle and murmur: "The way you wanted to wake up, the way we wanted to."
His body moved again, and she was then aware that his cock probed between her thighs. She grasped his hand on her breast and nodded with a delighted hum. His cock probed again. She was going to have to help it. She let go of his hand and quickly reached down between her thighs. Her fingers searched for the head of his cock. He hummed and moved to push it deeper between her thighs. They both hummed, when her fingers found it. She felt him move his body down the bed a little to let her fingers get it in her pussy. Her fingers pressed it up, and he rubbed it there, but she knew it wasn't yet aroused, wanting it to be, but wanted for it to be wet enough to let his cock slip in easily.
"Not yet," she murmured: "just rub like that," a little surprised at her instruction, but he did.
Good Daddy, she thought, wondering how many times she had thought that. Oh, she wanted his cock in her pussy! Her fingertips touched the back of the head of his cock where it was most sensitive. It twitched. He moaned, and she moaned, willing her pussy to go all moist. It did from her aroused anticipation and the rubbing of his cock.
"Now," she murmured and pressed his cock up between her pussy lips. He nodded with a moan and and let her find her opening, then pressing his cock in it. They both gave satisfied moans. It was there, in her! He moved down again, and it went deeper, and they moaned again - now securely in her!
Her hand slid over her hip and held his; now it was there. They both moaned again, feeling it surge and her pussy squeeze it. She chuckled and murmured:
"Good morning."
"Good fucking morning," he replied with a hum and rocked his hips up.
"Oh Daddy!" she blurted, then apologizing:
"Didn't want to say that, that way, but it is. Fucking good morning."
"Now we've both said it. Isn't it?"
"Just surprised that you said it."
"Me too, now."
"Hm-hmm! So do, just a little."
His hips rocked slowly, and she moaned with a nod and murmured: "Like that."
Then she suddenly giggled, recalling her dream and understanding it.
"What was that about? I didn't tickle you," her father asked in surprise.
"No. I suddenly remembered my dream."
"And?"
"Hmm? Long story; you're going to have to fuck me like this for a while."
"Nothing I would rather do; tell."
"That's good. Hm-hmm! When you curled up behind me in the night, I suddenly remembered something from "The Night before Christmas."
"Hmm? Just the thing for a girl to think of when her daddy is curling up naked behind her."
"Yeah, nestling, comfy: 'The children were nestled all snug in their beds, While visions of sugar-plums danced in their heads'."
"What occurs to you!"
"Um-hmm, and we're not children and only one bed, but then I tried to fit sugar-plums in; remembering that I once put a whole plum in my mouth and then thought that it must have felt like having one of your balls in it."
"Hm-hmm! Well, I guess so. And your dream?"
Well, I was thinking that I had to remember that, the next time I ate a plum, and then wondered about other fruits, vegetables."
"Plums, cherry tomatoes, radishes?"
"Good idea, but I wanted them to be like your cock, any cock."
"Don't say that, when it's mine in your pussy."
"Sorry!"
"I can think of a few; didn't you?"
"Fell asleep, just liking plums. Oh! Sugar-plums? What about yours with a sugar icing or just powdered sugar?"
"I thought you liked them like they are."
"I do, just a thought. Fuck."
His hips had forgotten to, and resumed moving his cock in her pussy. Then he asked:
"And your dream?"
"Funny. I was in an open air market looking for vegetables, wondering why I was liking the carrots. Of course, now I know why, but not in the dream. The small cucumbers were also very attractive, and then some things I haven't seen in the States."
"Hmm! Rude of you to tell me that, while my cock is in your pussy."
"You asked about the dream."
"And you wanted to tell me. Can't we just fuck, without my worrying if you think a large carrot or larger, small cucumber could be better?"
"I just wanted them to be the right size, wanted to hold a cucumber in my hand."
"Just hold my 'small cucumber'," he replied, thrusting his cock deeper in her pussy.
"There were a lot of smaller ones," she murmured apologetically and squeezed his cock with her pussy.
Her father began to fuck her a little harder, and his hand slid down on her pubic hair, exploring her mons veneris, but then sliding down between her pussy lips and rubbing. She moaned with nod, arousing the nipple his hand had left under hers. They fucked, her hips rocking back to meet his. She moaned, appreciating what his fingers were doing and that they were his.
It was a long, almost leisurely fuck. They exchanged soft moans. She thought there was something special about it, that her father just wanted to enjoy it - like she was - with no feelings that what they were doing had the excuse that uncontrollable erotic feelings were letting them forget who they were. She had a couple of times, only remembering afterwards that she had been fucking her father. Had he also forgotten? Now her father was fucking her, knowing she was his daughter, and they both were enjoying it, moaning together, when his cock twitched, and her pussy tightened. So nice, fucking like that, so that they both were aware when that happened.
She reached back and rubbed his hip, murmuring:
"I love it. I love you."
"Mmmmm, I love you too, and not just this way."
"Um-hmm, but also this way."
"Um-hmm," he agreed.
When his fingers began to rub again, she realized that they hadn't been, but that was just right. He had been enjoying that what they were doing wasn't just to reach their orgasms, and his now rubbing again confirmed his agreement with her "but also this way." Before she had completed that nice thought, she had already moaned in response to his additional arousal of her pussy. Her hand encouraged him to fuck her harder; now they could look forward to their orgasms.
He began to fuck her with longer strokes. Good Daddy! Did he ever think of her as "good daughter" or "good Kitten," or forget that it wasn't her, when she was fucking him or sucking his cock? She forgot that thought, as the arousal from his cock and fingers took control of her, just promising herself that this time she wouldn't forget that her "good Daddy" was fucking her.
She didn't, and he didn't. When his hand slid up from her pussy, drawing body closer to hers again and hugging her to him, his cock still twitching in her pussy, she felt him take a deep breath. Then he murmured: "Why did I have to wait for my Kitten to grow up to know how good it could be?"
She grasped his hand and drew it up on her breast, still too aroused from the orgasm he had given her to know how to reply. What he had said was a compliment, but a bitter-sweet one. She felt pity for him, that he had expressed it that way, and then wondered about herself. Could it be any better with someone else? His hand squeezed her breast. She clasped his hand and nodded, then murmured:
"It was. ... And I'm glad that I'm grown up."
He squeezed her breast in response, hugging her again. They were silent, even when his cock slipped out of her pussy, neither acknowledging that it had with a hum or snort. They just lay there. She dozed off with pleasant, affectionate thoughts.
Their hands had slid off her breast, when she felt his move, finding her breast again and rousing her. It squeezed it, and he said cheerfully:
"I wonder if sculptors or artists back then ever thought of their models as 'kitten'."
It took her a moment to collect her thoughts. Then she chuckled and replied:
"Maybe if they were too young for them to do what we do."
"It didn't look like it."
"No. But maybe if they had known them, when they were."
"Hmm! Waiting for them to grow up and become 'very nice'?"
"Like you did?"
"Hadn't thought of that," her father replied with a chuckle, then adding:
