The first few weeks that followed the change in relationship between my daughter and me were rough. At home, I was fine, even horny much of the time. Heather was more than happy to take care of that feeling. But, away from the house, shame often crept into my mind. I felt that people could see right through me, as if they knew of the debauchery that was taking place in my home. I imagined expressions of scorn on the faces of people everywhere.
The lowest point happened about a week after it all began. I was at my ex-wife's house, picking up Rebecca for the weekend.
"How's Heather doing," she asked.
"She's fine," I snapped back too quickly. "Why do you ask?"
I could see my ex- didn't know quite what to make of my response. Her reply was guarded and her confusion was obvious.
"Because, I'm her mother. And, I am curious."
I gathered Rebecca's things together as quickly, yet casually, as I could and got out of there.
Rebecca was only twelve at the time, and, at least around me, acted even younger. She was a daddy's girl if ever there was one. When she, or anyone else visited, Heather slipped easily back into her role as my daughter. I, however, was a nervous wreck, worried about discovery at every turn. Rebecca, nor anyone else, ever grew wise, as far as I knew.
As time marched on, Heather and I, especially I, grew more comfortable with each other and the situation. Each time I came home from work, I had found Heather wearing less and less clothing, until eventually, she was completely nude, all the time. More often than not, Samantha was at our house as well, and also nude.
I had grown to look forward to finding Heather in her nakedness when I walked in the door. If Sam was there, rest assured, I'd find them in some act of lovemaking, or, at the very least, frisky playfulness.
The day before Thanksgiving, a little over a month after we had begun our playing, I'd knocked off work early. The girls had an early day at school as well. When I opened the door, I was smacked in the face by the sounds of Sam being rocketed to an orgasm. Various sexual toys, many shiny with juices, lay about the living room.
Sam was sunken into the big sofa, her skin mottled, her hair disheveled from what must have been a couple of hours of pleasure. Heather lifted her head from between her friend's legs. Her chin and cheeks were slick with Sam's cum.
"You hungry, Dad?"
I took in the sight of Heather kneeling on the floor. Her smooth pussy peeked from between her creamy thighs. It was crimson and puffy from continuous excitement. A long string hung from her exposed asshole.
Beads
, I smiled to myself.
"You know, I think I'm gonna shower first," I replied, pointing in the direction of the bathroom.
Being a bricklayer, I only had to show up on a jobsite and I felt unclean. It didn't matter if we only worked half the day. I needed to get the mortar off my hands and the dust out of my hair. I hated to turn my back on the display before me, but I decided I'd be quick about cleaning up.
I didn't hear the bathroom door open, nor did I realize I wasn't alone in there until the shower curtain was pulled back. Sam's bright smiling face appeared.
