Partners in Crime

Part One of a two-part story.

I can see now that Patti had planned it out much more than I realized at the time.

Yeah, I can see it, now. Somewhere around her 18th birthday she started flirting with me. Nothing terribly obvious, nothing you'd call shameless, by any stretch of the imagination. Just little things, like standing too close, telling me somewhat off-color jokes, licking her lips just oh-so-slightly slower than normal.

She had it down; she struck that delicate balance. It was behavior that might encourage a boyfriend, but it was subtle enough that I would have felt presumptuous telling her to tone it down.

The thing is, that's all she needed. She had a long-term plan. It was enough just to get the idea in my head, even if just for a moment, even if I'm doubtful about her intentions. Then let the cumulative effect of hundreds of moments build up.

I mean, I can't say I thought nothing about it when she started that stuff. Hmmm... what would it be like to, uh... you know, with her... I saw no need to feel guilty, no reason to feel like a disgusting pervert because, after all, the male brain is hard-wired to think that way at

any

suggestion of sex, no matter who's involved, right? I couldn't help it. But I didn't see a problem as long as I put the thought out of my head quickly. I didn't intend to do anything like that. It didn't occur to me that she might have intentions of her own.

It was shortly after she got her own place that she called to ask me to take some pictures of her. She said her friend Tammy was sending some pictures to a modeling agency and had talked her into sending some, too.

"I really don't think I have a chance," Patti said, "but Tammy just keeps going on about it. So I thought, okay, I'll do it to shut her up. Besides, it might be fun just to take some pictures, even if it goes nowhere."

Yeah, she knew which button to push. Dad's quite the amateur photographer.

We went to the park the following Saturday. It was warm, bright and sunny, a perfect day for taking pictures. Patti brought several outfits. We took several shots of her in each outfit -- a yellow sun dress, jeans and t-shirt, sweats, shorts and tube top. She changed in the public restroom.

The photos we took were the posed kind that are supposed to look candid, the kind you often see in magazines. Walking through the park, looking at flowers, playing frisbee. Patti has always photographed well, and in the park she looked very natural and relaxed in front of the camera. She was playful and energetic.

And a bit more flirty than usual.

Still, I gave her the benefit of the doubt. It didn't occur to me not to. That's the kind of attitude you want for photos like this. Right? Playful, exuberant. That's what you want.

We left the film at a one-hour photo service and went back to her place. Patti got a couple Cokes out of the fridge, and we sat down to relax.

"I need some more shots," she said.

"What do you need?"

"They want some sexy pictures." She paused, apparently waiting for me to say something. When I didn't, she went on. "What do you think? Are you up for it?"

"How sexy are we talking about?"

"Well, tasteful. I'm talking about sexy, not pornographic."

Somehow it didn't seem quite appropriate. Not over the line, necessarily, but just maybe getting a little closer to the line than I should allow.

"If you get uncomfortable," she said, "just say so and we'll stop."

"Okay," I said. "We can try it and see how it goes."

"Great!" she jumped up and went into her bedroom. The phrase "against my better judgment" ran through my mind. Several times. It had always been hard for me to say no to Patti, and this was very different from anything that had ever happened before.

I turned on the TV and watched part of a Steve Martin movie on cable. Patti finally came out in a sheer black, full-length negligee with lace trim. She had black panties and bra on underneath. Her long, auburn hair flowed around her shoulders. "How do I look?" she asked.

She was beautiful. But how do you tell you daughter that when she's dressed that way?

I managed to choke out the word "Good."

"Is that all? 'Good' isn't good enough," she said.

"Patti, there's no room for improvement."

She smiled. "I was thinking about posing on the sofa," she said. "What do you think about that?"

"Yeah, that's good." I clicked the TV off, picked up my camera, and moved around in front of the sofa, getting as far back as I could to frame the shot.

Patti sat down. "Lemme think..." she said. "I know." She got up and went into the kitchen. I heard glasses clinking, and a moment later she came back out with two long-stemmed glasses of red wine. She held one out.

"Mine's a prop," she said. "Yours... I think you could use a little help to relax. I think this has you tense."

"Maybe a bit," I said. I took the glass and sipped. "Nice," I said.

"Thanks." Patti sat on the sofa and crossed her legs. She swirled her wine around and tasted it. "Shoot at will," she said.

I raised the camera and began shooting. Patti posed, very natural -- and seductive. Provocative but not slutty. Youthful as she was, this was a woman brimming with self-confidence, who knows what she wants and how to get it.

After a few minutes, Patti stood, unfastened her bra, and shrugged it to the floor. "Does this bother you?" she asked.

Somehow -- I wasn't aware of this at the time, but only figured it out later -- she had taken me completely out of the father-daughter mindset and almost into the discovery of a new lover mindset. Through the fabric of the negligee, I could see that her breasts, about a C cup, were very nicely rounded and firm. For a moment, I found myself wanting to touch them.

I felt my face flush, and I realized that I hadn't taken a breath for, probably, a whole minute. "We might as well go on," I said.

Again, the phrase "against my better judgment" came to mind. But another though replaced it: This was indeed over the line. This was inappropriate, no doubt about it.

And that's what made it exciting. I was going to ride this out. I was going to let Patti take this as far as she wanted.

We shot some more pictures, then Patti slipped out of her panties and kicked them toward me. I picked them up and put them on the coffee table, for no other reason than to handle them.

I was becoming aroused. I wasn't fully hard, but I was getting there.

She continued posing, but maddeningly, managed not to give me a view of her bush. By now, I was conscious of wanting to see her nude. My daughter. I wanted to see her fully naked, and I wasn't a bit bothered that I was thinking about it. The excitement overwhelmed anything else.

Patti sat on the arm of the sofa and gave me a pouty look. She smiled salaciously. She gave me a sultry stare. She had the entire repertoire down. Snap, snap, snap. I moved around trying to get the view of her bush that I wanted so badly, but she kept turning her hips away, crossing her legs, twisting around. Anything to protect that secret.

Both of us knew what was going on. We didn't say anything about it, but it was clear that the game was in full swing.

I stopped to reload. "Do you want to do some nudes?" Patti asked.

"Like you said, if it gets to the point where I feel uncomfortable, I'll let you know."

"You're okay, then?"

"I'm not letting you know, am I?"

I'd never have dreamed of a conversation like this, even as recently as an hour earlier.

Patti dropped the negligee to the floor, giving me an unobstructed view of her body. Smooth, soft skin, muscular legs, shapely hips. And when she turned around to face me -- shaven pussy.

I found myself sighing audibly.

"What's wrong?" she asked.

"Nothing," I said. "Do you have ideas about what you want to do?"

"I sure do," she said. "I think these shots should be in the bedroom."

"Okay."

She led me into the bedroom and sat on the bed. At first, she posed modestly, or at least as modestly as anyone can pose while nude. Sitting with legs drawn up, hair down over her nipples, never fully turned toward the camera.

After a few shots, she became less modest, allowing her breasts in the picture. Then she allowed me a couple shots with her pussy in view.

"I think we've crossed the line from sexy to pornographic," Patti said.

"I think we crossed that line a while back," I said. "But there's something to be said for pornography."

"I think so, too."

"But if we're going to do it, we should do it right, and I think something's missing here."

"What?"

"It would look a lot better if your pussy were just a bit moist."

"Really?"

"Trust me. I'm the photographer." This was incredible. Talking to my daughter about her pussy.

I put the camera on her dresser and walked over to the bed. "Here's what we need to do." I got on the bed with her and moved into position between her legs. "This is the best way." I leaned forward and began licking lightly around her cunt lips.

Patti gasped, then began running her fingers through my hair. I continued, sucking her cunt lips ever so gently, working my tongue into the opening, flicking her clit teasingly.

She squirmed and rocked her hips.

I inserted a finger into her pussy and heard a loud, dreamy moan immediately. I could feel my cock straining against my underwear. I was going to have to let it loose soon.

After a few minutes, I sat up and looked at her pussy. "It's nice and moist-looking now," I said.

"What are you talking about?"

"We wanted it to look moist for the pictures."

Patti sat up. "It'll still look moist later." She unbuttoned my shirt and pulled it off. Then she went for my zipper. "Stand up," she said.

I stood. Patti knelt on the floor in front of me, unfastened my pants, and pulled them down. She gently caressed my fully erect cock. "That's nice," I whispered.

She cupped my balls in one hand, licked the underside of my shaft a few times, then took as much into her mouth as she could. I don't know where or how she learned her technique -- I'd rather not think about that -- but she was good. She didn't make it feel like a mechanical "pump it out" kind of job, the way many women do.

No, not Patti. She teased it.

As I felt myself getting closer to orgasm, I reached down and began playing with her hair and caressing her face. I could see she had one hand on her pussy, playing with herself.

She was hot, and I was close. I exploded in her mouth. I'm not usually noisy during sex, but this was so intense I couldn't help but let out a loud moan. Patti got more frantic, breathing deeper and faster, licking on my cock hungrily, swallowing the cum, reaching around and playing with my ass with one and and fingering her pussy faster and faster with the other.

I could feel it, it seemed, all the way down to my ankles and up to my neck. I was aware of Patti cumming, too, which kept me going.

I don't know how long it lasted. Maybe less than a minute, maybe a half hour. It didn't matter.

We fell onto the bed and lay there, side by side, cuddling and kissing gently. I stroked her hair, her back, her ass. She took my cock in her hand, and it immediately began getting hard again. "Mmmm..." she said. "You have a very short recycling time."

"What can I say? I'm full of hormones." I kissed her. "And they respond well to beauty."

She nibbled on my neck, one of my hot spots. "Oh, yes," I whispered. I rolled her over on top of me. She switched over and nibbled on the other side of my neck for a while, then sat up, straddling me. She brushed my fully erect cock against her smooth belly.

She raised herself a bit, positioned her cunt, and lowered herself onto me.

And there I was, in my daughter's pussy, happy to be there, overwhelmed with the excitement of forbidden sex. She was tight and wet. My cock felt huge and hard -- and right at home.

She sat there for several minutes, motionless, silent. It would have been fine with me if she never moved; just being in her was all I needed.

The world was perfect.

After a while, Patti leaned forward and kissed me. I put my arms around her, ran my hands up and down her back. Her tongue found its way into my mouth. My hands found their way down to her ass.

Slowly, she began pumping her hips. We continued kissing, her hair falling down around my face as if it were a little curtain blocking us off from the rest of the world.

We made love, slowly and easily. Eventually, Patti's body tensed, her breathing became fast and heavy, and her eyes took on a dreamy look.

I arched my back and thrust up into her. She rewarded me with more loud moans and ground her pussy down onto me as hard as she could. I burst into another orgasm, feeling as if I were filling her completely with my cum.

Patti collapsed on top of me, motionless and silent. My cock, semi-erect, was still in her. Occasionally she'd flex her muscles and give it a squeeze.

It was like the ardor you feel with a new lover, at that magical stage when you can't keep your hands off of each other, combined with the thrill of doing something so deeply forbidden you don't dare breathe a word of it to anyone else. We were bonded not only as father and daughter, and as lovers, but as partners in crime as well.

The next thing I remember is waking up; the clock next to the bed said 6:18. I hadn't planned to be gone this long, but fortunately, my wife was having a "girls night out" with some friends that night. So I was pretty much free to do as I pleased, no questions asked. No questions, that is, as long as I didn't do anything to raise suspicion.

I nudged Patti awake. We sat up in bed, legs wrapped around each other, and masturbated together. Then we went into the living room and watched TV for a while. I was naked; she wore the negligee.

Unfortunately, as it had to, that time came soon. I'd have to take a shower before going home, of course. I expected to be home hours before Diane, but I wasn't going to depend on it. She might come home early. For that matter, she might have decided not to go out. Shower at Patti's before leaving.

Patti, not surprisingly, had anticipated everything: She had made sure she had the same soap we had at the house. We showered together, flirting with each other but resisting the urge for more sex play.

I got dressed, and Patti put on the negligee again. "You're just begging for trouble," I said.

"I don't think I have to beg."

She was right. I took her by the hand into the kitchen and sat her on the counter. I unfastened my pants, spread her legs, and slipped into her. As I expected, she was wet and ready. She wrapped her arms and legs around me, as tight as she could. We fucked desperately, as if it were the first time.

"Well, there goes the shower," she said afterward.

I got home around midnight. Diane, my wife, was still out with the girls. Most likely, I had about three or four hours until she came home. I was glad about that; I needed time alone to "come down." My head was still reeling from everything that had happened. I'm sure my behavior would have been anything but normal.

I sat in the dark and listened to a mix CD I'd made of Miles Davis ballads. Patti's good-bye kiss at the door replayed itself in my head over and over again. It had been deep, loving and incredibly sensual.

Future? Maybe it had been a "good night" kiss. Maybe it had been a "good bye" kiss. I didn't know. Maybe it was just a kiss. I couldn't think about it now. What I

could

think about was that it had been a perfect day.

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