"Daddy, we're home," I heard Dulcie call from downstairs.
I quickly shut down the porn site I was watching in my office. Even after culminating my lust for my eighteen year old daughter Dulcie, I was uncomfortable flaunting my fascination with tight young barely legal bodies.
As I closed the laptop, I wondered "we who?" Dulcie's older sister Carolyn was still away at college, not due home for a weekend until next month. Whoever was with my daughter, she obviously wanted me to head downstairs to greet them.
I shrugged as I walked down the second floor hallway towards the stairs, passing Dulcie's room, pausing as always to gaze at her soft big bed, the source of what I still thought of as 'all my troubles'. If she had not insisted on bouncing childlike on her mattress, I could have resisted the urge to fuck my little girl. Even if she was as much the willing seducer as I was, I still felt a mixture of guilt and desire for more.
Two weeks had passed. Dulcie was busy with cheerleading and school, seldom home to tease me with her taut athletic body. I found myself keeping to myself in my den, working sometimes, but mainly compulsively surfing porn, searching in vain for images that burned the memories of fucking Dulcie out of my brain. Instead, I found myself comparing photos and videos to my daughter, and found none of them to be nearly as hot. No slut was as depraved as my tarnished little angel. Finally, I even resorted to interactive live webcams, role playing with young beauties, but they could not match Dulcie's pouty desire, or the wanton lust unleashed after we succumbed to our forbidden passion.
Dulcie's final words before I had drifted of to sleep kept replaying in my brain.
"Did you hear that Jeanie's home next weekend? Maybe we should invite her over to use the pool..." my baby had suggested.
But she had also said we would fuck more the next morning, only to have left for cheerleading practice before I awoke, and had not come home until after midnight. I had kept my distance, and waited for her next move. She had not even brought up the subject of our incestuous activity. Though as a parent I suppose I should have prompted a discussion of the wrongness involved, to make sure she bore no emotional scars, I honestly was just too ashamed. And even more ashamed about how I kept masturbating to my memories of how sweet my daughter tasted, how her cunt clutched at my cock, how her ass ate my finger.
Jeanie was one of Carolyn's friends, a fellow cheerleader, but she was away attending a different college. I blamed Jeanie to some extent for my transgression with Dulcie. She was nubile, in a more obvious way than either of my daughters -- pneumatic breasts, blonde ponytail, but still, hips more boyish than ripe which none the less swished about as if to say "we swivel like this because we love cock."
While hanging out at our house, while using our trampoline, or pool, and rubbing up against me in the kitchen, Jeanie had vamped me repeatedly. Her attitude had driven me to extreme lust, which I had not been able to hide from Dulcie. That knowledge had in turn encouraged Dulcie to seduce me. Or to allow me to seduce her -- our respective responsibility for ending up fucking and sucking was unclear. This ambiguity made me think about what happened even more. All I knew for sure was that it had left me a mess -- embarrassed, ashamed, but still incredibly turned on. The more I thought about how cute Dulcie had looked, bouncing on her bed, and then touching my cock, the harder I came. Thoughts if how she had then sucked me like a lollipop, swallowing me seed... if I allowed my thoughts to go further, I would orgasm again, and that was just compounding the wrongness of it all.
Instead, I had made a mantra out of repeating "she's a good little monkey...no more bouncing on the bed."
And there had not been. Dulcie had initiated our fateful encounter by re-enacting her and Carolyn's childhood pleasure of jumping up and down on the mattress until I had gone in to say "No more monkeys bouncing on the bed."
Of course, when they were little girls, Dulcie had not worn see through nighties, or had such tempting titties. Thinking of those younger days, of my good little monkey usually distracted me enough that my cock shrank and I could concentrate on my work. If it didn't, I tried thinking about Jeanie, who was not my daughter, and was known to be a slut.
I had no guilt filling my fist with goo while dreams of Jeanie played in my brain, which had happened fairly often over the past few weeks. Fortunately, Dulcie's busy senior year schedule of school, gymnastic and cheerleading prevented any further embarrassing encounters where she overheard my self gratification. I wished that she would start dating more often. Maybe if she was having sex with guys her own age, I would not worry about how she felt about our fucking. Perhaps the trauma had ruined her life, though she did seem as cheerful as ever. If anything, there was a little extra spring in her step.
Like other athletic young women, Dulcie dressed casually, frequently in work out clothes, layered so that she could adjust as her body warmed up. I was quickly getting used to her bouncing through the patio doors into the kitchen with her spandex pasted to her flesh by perspiration. Her sports bras flattened her chest, and only occasionally the wetness made the fabric see through enough that the shadows of her areolae stared at me.
"Hi Daddy," she would always say, grinning at me, eyes twinkling.
She would pause, body near enough that I could feel the heat. Standing on tiptoes, she would peck me on the cheek. Sometimes, her side would brush against my arm or my chest, and I would sense the weight as her full breast rub me. When Jeanie used to press too close, she was vamping me, but in spite of our incestuous encounter, I still believed in Dulcie's innocence.
She just had gotten swept up in events. Like a snowball rolling downhill, my horniness and her curiosity made a flammable situation, and her bouncing on the bed had provided all the spark it needed to ignite. This rationalization stepped neatly past Dulcie's efforts to fuel the fire by building up the tension ever since Carolyn left for school, but it allowed me to retain my parental balance. In other words, to keep my pants on and keep my cock in those pants, at least when Dulcie might be around.
When the house was empty, though, my cock seemed to spend increasing amounts of time in my fist, my fingers sliding up my shaft, bumping against the ridge at the bottom of the head, images of Jeanie dominating, though, shamefully, I sometimes pictured Carolyn or Dulcie. Those thoughts I persistently forced away, burying them deep in my psyche. Picturing Jeanie, so skinny but so large breasted, bouncing on the trampoline, sufficed to relieve my sexual frustration.
"Dad, you need a girlfriend," Carolyn said every time she called. "It was great that you devoted yourself to us after Mom died, but we're almost grown up now. You shouldn't be alone."
Then she would pause, but always add, "...and I know you have needs. You need a woman to take care of them."
The last call had added a fresh ending. "A man can only go so long without sex."
I had grinned when she said that, comforted by the indication that Dulcie had not told her sister what a pervert their father was. Since it was never going to happen again, there was no need for Carolyn to know. Perhaps I would try dating though, just to throw her off the scent when she was home visiting. She was correct to that extent -- getting my hose drained regularly would, I hoped, reduce the ongoing distraction caused by Dulcie's casual sensuality.
"Daaaaadddddyyyyy..." Dulcie shouted, snapping me back to reality. She always did have a petulant streak. Her mother's baby, and then mine. Still mine, if I dared. Or, truth be told, if she demanded. I knew there was little hope of my ever saying 'no' to Dulcie.
I stood and walked out to the hallway, speaking as I approached the stairs.
"Don't shout, honey, I was working."
"Working, Daddy? On a Saturday? Or .....playing?" she giggled, low and lusty. A little extra emphasis on the last word. I wondered how her guest would interpret that.
I glanced down before heading down the stairs. My zipper was flat, not undone, no visible excitement, shirt tails casually loose all around. All good. I bounded down the stairs two at a time, perhaps unseemly for a man my age, but I felt a contact high from Dulcie's enthusiasm.
Half way down, I saw Dulcie standing behind the center island in the kitchen. She was visible from her navel upwards. Those ripe young breasts she had used to seduce me two weeks prior were concealed and displayed all at once by a blue and white halter so snug it might as well have been painted on. Her nipples threatened to pierce the fabric, taunting me with memories of how tasty they were.
Standing next to Dulcie was Jeanie. She was even more provocatively dressed than my daughter, her full tits spilling out of a bikini top which was comprised of only two tiny triangles of fabric levered upwards by a string tied behind her neck. The fall day was too cool for this abbreviated clothing, so Jeanie's nipples were even more obviously erect than Dulcie's, tenting each triangle. The poor tie strained so tightly that there was a visible gap between the slope of her breasts and the string, which screamed "If I breathe heavily, my girls will tumble free. I know that you want to see that. I have the power, and plan to use it."
All my hope of keeping my cock under control vanished in that moment. I felt the blood flooding to my groin, and knew that the swelling would quickly be straining the front of my pants. I paused on the top stair, unsure whether I ought to proceed further and expose my reaction. Maybe if I waited, it would subside. Not likely though -- Jeanie was looking just too fuckable. Most likely, I would be engorged until she left my sight. Even then, I was already trying to calculate a way to sneak off for self relief because hormonal rebalancing might be the ultimate solution to this problem.
"Hi, Daddddy," Jeanie grinned and giggled, imitating Dulcie. I smiled back, politely, and started walking again, slowly, willing my heart to slow to a normal pace. Soon, I was stepping off the bottom stair.
As I descended, I noticed that Jeanie was wearing more than just a matching bikini bottom. I tore my eyes off of her nearly naked tits and forced them down. Her hips were wrapped in a sheer print sarong, the sunlight shining through; much more sensuous than if she had been naked. She held a big straw hat in both hands, covering her midsection, so I could not tell what was beneath the sarong.
