For two whole years Terry pined for his one true love. He missed Mary more and more each day; he missed her silly laugh, her witty wisecracks. He missed the way she looked in the morning, eyes closed lost in her own private dream world. He missed the way she smelt after sex, missed her screaming his name as she came. Terry missed her so much it hurt.
He never showed it however, not in public anyway. He had daughter Angel to think about. She was only sixteen when her mother died and had taken it pretty hard. Crying herself to sleep, night after night. Angel was afraid that he too might pass away in his sleep, leaving her all alone. So Terry had agreed to let her sleep in his bed with him.
Terry got used to waking up and seeing the face of his sleeping daughter lying next to him. Her brown silky hair strewn across her little Winnie the Pooh pillow. Occasionally Angel would have violent nightmares, and wake up in the middle of the night screaming and crying. Terry would take her in his arms to comfort her, kissing her freshly shampooed hair telling her it'll be all right. He would wake up the next day with this perfect creature in his arms, his little Angel.
Terry found it hard to find a new woman, someone to replace Mary. All the woman he met paled before his belated wife's beauty and wit. He could never spend the night with them. He had once gone back to a woman’s place. A blonde number in her mid-thirties calling herself Tara. She was drunk and lonely, and had not taken much convincing to leave the smoky, sordid bar and to go back to hers. One thing led to another and she was soon in her grey underwear sucking Terry's cock like a car wash on a Sunday afternoon. It was barely passed midnight; Tara was performing some sort of gymnastic manoeuvre on Terry's cock, when his mobile rang. Frankly Terry was glad for this opportunity to take a break in their 'love-making'. Tara was enthusiastic but not much else. What had once been a passable face and a voluptuous body, was now a face you passed on and volumes of cellulite.
It was Angel on the phone
'DAD!! Dad!? Where are you? Are you okay? Please say you're okay... Why aren't you home yet?' Angel was almost in tears, a wave of guilt rushed through Terry, making his cock go limp.
'Whose that slut?' Snorted Tara 'your wife?...HE'S FUCKING ME YOU BITCH, SO FUCK OFF!' Terry roughly pushed Tara of his half naked torso, put on his trousers and was outside hailing a cab while Tara cried; half naked in the middle of her bed, her mascara running down her cheeks in grey tired lines.
Angel had started to hit puberty, Terry couldn't help noticing. Her body began to resemble her mothers more and more each day. Her little t-shirt had small moulds in them when she wore them, her young breast pressing urgently against the soft fabric. Her lips were becoming fuller and her cute butt slowly curving into a woman’s.
Terry would find himself staring at her chest over breakfast and feasting on her cute butt as she walked to school. He knew it was wrong, evil even but he couldn't help it. He took to seeing Tara during the day when Angel was a school, to help him relieve these urges. It didn't help much and Terry tried it best to push the whole thing to the back of his mind.
Couple days after her eighteenth birthday Angel came into the house crying. Her white school blouse was torn and muddied, her left cheeks was bright red, bleeding and her satchel missing.
'OH MY GOD! Angel, honey, what happened?' Terry bent down and hugged her nubile young body close to him. Through the sobs and tears he made out that some boys had attacked her on the way back from school stealing her satchel.
'Did they do anything else, honey?’ Terry asked, knowing what boys were like these days.
'Like what?’ She asked
'Did they try to, er, touch you or anything? Get you to do things you shouldn't?'
A puzzled look came across Angel’s innocent face.
'Nooo, they hit me though...'
Terry closed his eyes and thanked god.
'Come on, honey, go up and have a shower, get yourself cleaned up.'
'Will you help me? I'm sore all over and can hardly move.'
Terry paused and ran his eyes over her young dishevelled body.
'Yeah, okay' All he was doing was helping her shower, he justified to himself. There's nothing wrong in that.
Angel stood naked in the bath, whilst Terry held the showerhead and the soap. His cock was rock hard as her beautiful young daughter let the lather drip all over her. She slowly rubbed her left breast, her father stood dumbstruck.
'Daddy I can't reach my back couldn't you clean it for me? I'll hold the shower.'
'No, honey, I'm sure you can do it yourself.'
'Please?' She turned facing him with Mary's hazel eyes; Her wet hair clung to her cute face and delicate shoulders. The small swellings of her breasts, topped with perfect pink nipples. Her eighteen year old sex, naked hairless at the top of her perfect skinny legs. She took advantage of his dazed state to grab the showerhead, and then spun around exposing her back to him.
Terry lathered his hands with the soap and massaged her shoulders, trying not to look at her smooth, cute behind. Angel sang some song that was in the charts that week, the latest hit from some boy band in America. She giggled as Terry started to work his way down her silky smooth back. He traced each bump of her backbone with his finger, occasionally stopping to circle her shoulder blades. He drew is face closer to her back, smelling the mix of soap and youth under his hands. His hands worked down to the curve of her waist, then round of her hips then to the small of her back. He should stop, he knew he should, but something made his right hand start to stroke her the top right butt cheek. He drew his face even closer taking in her scent. Her flesh was firm, yet soft and yielding. He let out a low groan.
'Dad? Are you okay?'
'Yes, honey' he mumbled 'erm, you finish yourself off yeah?'
Terry dropped the soap, and ran from the bathroom. His hard cock rubbing against his trousers. He went his bedroom, locked the door then collapsed on his bed. He hurriedly unzipped his trousers and grabbed his urgent dick in his hand, pumping it hard. Images of his naked daughter ran round his mind. His hand on her pubescent breasts, her perfect butt her. Kissing her pouting lips, his finger sliding into her sex. Fucking her- his cock into her tight pussy, hearing her moan as he rode her from behind, harder and harder. Her tight pussy around his raging cock. Hearing her sing her stupid boy band tunes about first love while he fucked her brains out. Kissing her soft white skin, her smooth shoulders, her brown hair in his face. Terry final came, squirting his juice over his trouser. He lay back, disgusted with himself but still strangely satisfied.
For days Terry was unable to look his daughter in the eyes. He avoided any contact or conversation with her. He took his frustration and disgust out on Tara who was happy for any attention Terry gave her. He would imagine it was Angel beneath when he fucked Tara. Imagined it was her small lips wrapped round his cock, her small arse he was fucking. At night Terry slept with his back to Angel. His dreams haunted with the image of his nymph daughter.
He would lay awake at night just devouring her perfect form with his eyes, her pert buttocks pressing urgently against her cotton nightie. He would lay next her and touch himself, cumming silently with his young daughter obliviously asleep next to him.
She was in his thoughts all the time; Terry couldn't keep his mind on anything else. He would skive of work and stay at home. Masturbating over Angels underwear, searching the web for pictures of girls that looked like her. When she came home from school, he would sit silently, lusting over her small tight buttocks, her young breasts and her innocent eyes.
On the anniversary of his wife's death Terry was fired from work, he staggered out of his office and headed for the nearest bar. He drank until the late afternoon, and then headed home.
Angel was home from school, watching kids TV downstairs in the living room. Terry grabbed a bottle of whiskey and slumped down next to her on the couch. She was wearing a pair if tight fitting shorts and a simple white t-shirt; she was not wearing her bra.
'Daddy are you okay' she asked concerned at her fathers drunken state.
