Out the Window

The next night was a family night. Robert would be leaving for school the next evening and Katie would leave the day after that. So the family was gathered in the living room and watching something, Dale wasn't really sure what. Katie elected to sit next to him on the couch in front of the television. The way their living room was constructed, a large plaster pillar was smack dab in the middle of their space. To the right of the couch and diagonal from the television was the second couch. Robert was sitting on the floor against the couch and Mary was sitting on the opposite, already very close to drifting off. From where Dale was sitting he could barely see either of them around the pillar.

Katie came downstairs in gym shorts and a loose undershirt. She planted a kiss on his cheek and pulled the quilts out of the closet. She draped one happily over her mother and then took the second and laid it across Dale's lap and her own.

"It's not really cold enough for that," he told her. She nuzzled lovingly against his shoulder and shushed him.

"I want to cuddle," she said stubbornly. He sighed. His daughter nestled against him, placing both hands on his arm and molding her body against his. He smelled her conditioner and tried to blot out last night. He chalked it up to a weird concoction of late nights and drinking and...Hell, he thought. He'd been unable to sleep for the majority of that night. Even her warm skin and thighs, which were drawn up against his leg, gave him trouble. But he put it out of his mind. As the movie started to play he found himself, lulled by the rhythmic breathing of his daughter, the insensate plot of the drama, and the warmth of the quilt, to a soft, sudden sleep.

He was hard. He wasn't sure if he was dreaming... He felt awake. But that sensation...

He was hard. He was so hard. And soft, wet warmth caressed his dick. It dribbled down from his cockhead and struck his balls. It pooled in his tangled pubic hair until thick moisture ran down his inner thighs. It was wet. A groan forced its way from deep inside his throat. And he was hard. A stark mind boggling suction lanced over his shaft. Out flitted an insistent lick—that was it, it was a lick! It trailed from the head of his penis down to the base of his shaft and lovingly gave way as a slick, muscular softness embraced him and sunk him thickly against folds of warm flesh. When it retracted a new softness, one of skin, bumped against the base of his dick. It was a chin, he realized, and his penis was suddenly coated with a thick sheen of saliva.

He woke with a start. A hand pressed against his chest frantically. It was the touch of someone telling him to keep back. He looked down. Delicate fingers, well manicured. The fingers clutched at his chest. Sparks shot in front of his eyes. He saw the television. What was happening? Then a slick, rolling slurp alerted him to his lap. His dick slid down someone's throat.

Katie was just a hump under the quilt. She was bent at the waist, her head hidden from view, and squeezing his thigh with her right hand. Her shorts had ridden up her ass from bending over him until they were wedged up her smooth crack. Her left hand was pressed to his chest to keep him reclined. And she was working on him. Hell, the girl was going to town on his cock.

He could feel her saliva mixing with his precum underneath the quilt. She had unzipped his pants and the front of them were soaked from sweat and spit and cum. His whole body shook. He didn't want to stop her—for so many reasons—but not least of which was the knowledge that if he pulled her away he knew he would have to see his baby girl's chin and lips coated in his slime, her mouth glistening with the moist fruit of her ministrations. Katie was sucking his cock and making sure she let none of it escape his notice. She wanted him to feel her lick and slurp and fuck him with her mouth. How had this happened? Dear God, he couldn't let this go on!

He stared at the pillar. If Robert was awake he hadn't noticed. He could hear her mother snoring on the couch. Stars behind his eyes.

He reeled back. He was going to cum. He was going to cum hard. Dale grabbed his daughter by the collar but she snatched his wrist in a murderous death grip. She started to bob her head faster. Oh God. He heard her trying to breathe and blow him at the same time.

"Katie—" he tried to whisper. Her hand released his wrist and snaked back to his chest. He was already unconsciously fucking up into her mouth. "No, Katie, I'm going t—" he tried desperately to tell her. Katie felt up his chest until she could draw her fingertips up his neck. Then her little fingers were at his mouth. He couldn't help himself. He took her fingers into his mouth and started to suck on them. This encouraged her and Dale watched as his beautiful daughter bent over his quilted body and proceeded to fellate him with a furious lust. Her breasts were squashed against his right leg. Even through her loose shirt and his pajama bottoms he could feel her hard nipples jutting out like diamonds. Katie's boobs were of just the perfect weight and resilience to roll against his body. He drew his hands over her back, feeling the curled muscles underneath her skin. He was her father but he couldn't help it. His dick, his legs, his body, his brain, all were given up to the overpowering essence of everything wrong and sexual and overheated about the moment. There had to be something wrong with him if he couldn't resist this!

"Katie—" he tried one last time before exploding in her mouth. His daughter jerked back but quickly got her mouth back around his cock. He grunted. Katie started to swallow his seed but it came spurt after spurt. He came furiously, with an unbearable squeezing that seemed to drain all the tension, emotion, frustration, rage away from him. And still he spurted and Katie gulped and drew her fingers from his mouth. She reached under the quilt and gripped his cock. This sent a buzz of renewed intensity down his spine. She began to jerk him off into her mouth, emptying him of everything left. He heard and felt her gag briefly, such was the volume of his semen. He felt her breasts shudder against him. But still she pressed on, milking his fluid from him until his engorged dick stopped twitching.

His little girl knew what she was doing. With her right hand she massaged his balls (seemed even to delight in feeling them jerk and pump his spunk up through the bulging vein in his cock). But he was still hard. So she lapped at him, lapped at his stiff prick. She masturbated him into her sweet little mouth as if that was her mortal purpose. New driblets of semen were coaxed from his body. He was so sensitive he wanted to tell her to stop. But he couldn't tell her to stop. His cock stood straight up from his lap. Under the quilt, her golden curls shielded from his view, she lapped at him like a thirsty kitten.

He realized it wasn't going to go down.

The madness began. This was the state of frenzy he devolved to when his body suddenly caught a whiff of sex. This was what he had been afraid of for so many years: his overriding lust overriding all common sense (and in this case, filial decency). His dick knew better than him what it would take to put the demon down. It would take nothing less than an extraordinary fuck inside a hot, tight pussy that tingled to his every thrust.

And sadly, that pussy had as much to do with his wife as salad on flapjacks.

At length, after a several tentative strokes, Katie extruded his dick from her mouth. He wanted to look away but he couldn't. He watched her grab the quilt, softly shrug it over her head, and come up for air.

Her eyes were shining, wet. Her face and skin were flushed, her hair matted at the top where she had bowed beneath the quilt. A long string of white, translucent semen trailed from her lip to her chin and down, down, the last evidence of their incest. She smiled at him in a devilish, teasing way and happily planted a kiss on his stubbled cheek. He felt the semen trail off her kiss. Her lips and cheeks were smeared with his sexual fluids and sweat. Then she winked at him, set her little feet on the carpet, and stretched dramatically. Speechless, Dale could only watch as her shirt rode up her taut belly and exposed her midriff—almost but not quite to the bountiful curve of her breasts.

Then she stood and announced, "Alright, folks. That's it for me. Guess I'll go to sleep."

She strode in front of him (was she wiggling her ass or did she always walk like that?) and wiped her mouth with the back of her hand. "G'night, daddy," she murmured. Then she was gone.