~~~
I never intended to write this chapter. That being said, after discussing the series with my beta-reader, Monagamous_Now, I learned that he's one of the many who wanted to see Sara hook up with her father.
MN edits, proofs, and reads everything I write... and has for a while now. He provides critical feedback to me on what most readers want. I've lost track of how many stories he's helped with. At this point, I seriously don't think I could do it without him. On the days when the comments have me considering throwing in the towel, he's the Jiminy Cricket that tells me to "fuhgeddaboudit" in the voice of Robert De Niro. He's the reason I'm still writing.
So... here it is - Sara's story.
There IS most definitely incest in this chapter - hot, steamy, feral incest - driven by years of denial.
You have been warned.
I consider this to be an alternative ending to the Reluctant Daddy series. If you haven't read those chapters, don't blame me when you don't know what's going on.
Not so random movie quote: "I've got seven kids. The three words you hear most around my house are 'hello', 'goodbye', and 'I'm pregnant'."
~~~
~~~ Christmas Eve ~~~
My grandson, Max, was two years old. He and the rest of the littles were in their beds - scattered throughout the Moore House. They had visions of sugarplums - and a fat man with a giant bag of toys bursting at its seams - dancing in their heads.
I (and one or two elves) had already assembled every single item that needed to be put together before Christmas morning. All of the batteries had been purchased and every gift that required them had been loaded, tested, and re-wrapped. We were ready for the big day.
The squeals of joy and peals of laughter that rang through our massive home on Christmas were one of the things that made my heart swell. There is almost nothing in the world that competes with that.
There is, however, one thing...
All eight of the children's' mothers had made very certain that we would not be disturbed this evening. They had informed me that we were going to have "adult time" before bed. They had warned me that it was going to get loud and that we would need a lot of paper towels and wet-wipes. My balls were aching just thinking about it.
The fact that they had all refused to sleep with me the night before didn't help. In my house, I never sleep alone. I was so horny that I'd even been tempted to go see if Meghan's mom might like some company.
Christmas Eve Day, the house had been a flurry of activity - last-minute preparations, baking, and looking for hidden gifts that we'd forgotten where we'd hidden them. I cannot tell you how many women - at some point during the day - "accidentally" brushed some part of their bodies against my cock - or their lips against my neck - or their fingers through my hair - or across my chest - or ass - or thighs. Fuck!
I was strung tighter than a banjo.
I was sitting in my recliner. There was a half-empty tumbler of Jack and Coke in my hand. Sara had brought it to me - no doubt realizing that I needed something to steady my nerves - and get me to quit thinking about how overloaded my balls were.
As I sat there, each of my lovers arrived and took their favorite seats. There were lusty looks on each of their faces - including Zoey's and Erin's - whose husbands (from what I'd been told) had been sent off to the strip-club to keep them out of our hair. The flames in Zoey's eyes had my cock trying to chew its way through the cloth of my underwear and shorts to escape. Erin (my little Angel) nibbled her lip and gave me a doe-eyed look that had my balls aching painfully.
I set my drink on the end table beside my chair.
I heard movement and looked up to see my long-legged brown-haired little girl, Sara, strutting into the room wearing the cherry-red lifeguard's uniform that she'd had on that fateful weekend that brought all of these women into my life - and bed.
Her body had filled out and matured in the years that she'd worked for Great Scott HVAC - and with the pregnancy and birth of my beautiful grandson. Thinking about his flame-colored locks had me looking at Zoey again, thinking about how she claimed to be the one who'd gotten Sara pregnant.
Distracted by thoughts of the redhead, my eyes skipped over the sight of the high heels that my daughter was wearing. They matched the swimsuit perfectly and accentuated her long legs and tight butt in ways that no father should talk about.
Sara slid onto my lap and the supple skin of her leg and thigh - from her knee to her ass - slid across the very obvious swell in my pants - eliciting a sharp hiss from my lips.
"Sara!" I gasped.
Her hips hadn't spread much over the years - even after giving birth to Max - none of the girls' really had. They all still had tight little butts that were kept toned by regular exercise and by wearing heels most of the time. I'd had to pointedly look away from Sara's rounded rump on multiple occasions. It was far too tightly tempting for a father to gaze at.
That same taut ass bumped over my tented groin and I swear she sighed as the head of my prick settled into the bottom of her firm butt - into the gap created by her thighs and her taint.
"Sara!" I gasped louder. "You need to..."
She looked into my eyes and I swear she wriggled on my tent-pole. When the rest of the women - including Meghan's mom - chuckled or giggled - I looked around at their faces in surprise.
"Daddy," Sara said breathily - dragging my attention back to her face.
She leaned forward, placing her elbows on my chest, wrapping her wrists around my neck, and stroking her fingertips into my hair, across my neck, and at the edges of my ears.
Red alert! We are at DEFCON 4!
Sara and I often touched and cuddled. I loved "our" time. She was my rock. When her mother had passed, we had become totally dependent on each other. I loved being able to curl into her hug and just relax - or cry. I loved being able to give her those things as well when she was missing her mom.
This though - these touches - these were not the caresses of a daughter. We were moving into dangerous territory.
My eyes widened and I looked up into her face - into her eyes.
"Daddy," she said quietly - softly.
She was breathing heavily.
"I need you, Daddy," she said.
"I need you, too, Babygirl," I said.
She gently shook her head.
"Daddy, I've needed you for a long time now - but I've tried to deny those feelings - to suppress them."
She looked around - at the faces of my lovers.
"The girls know - even April - and Marcie. They've tried to help me."
I studied her face, trying to figure out what it was that she needed.
"Daddy, you've never told me 'no'."
I shook my head.
"I... I need you, Daddy," she said again, "and I'm hoping that you won't tell me 'no'. Please don't. I need you."
She laid her head on my shoulder. I started to wrap my arms around her - to hold her - but her lips pressed themselves against my neck. She kissed my neck - then she licked it. I latched my fists and fingers onto the arms of my chair.
DEFCON 3!
Her kisses moved - millimeter by millimeter - up my neck, around the edge of my jaw, and worked - millisecond by millisecond - toward my mouth. Then she stopped.
She raised her face up, looked straight into my eyes, pursed her lips, and leaned forward.
I felt a knot of air catch in my throat, halting my breath.
I couldn't stop looking into the eyes of my little girl as her mouth approached mine.
She stopped - with a hair's breadth between our lips touching. I could feel the heat of her supple lips radiating against my own.
"Daddy," she whispered, "I need you."
She stared into my eyes as her lips touched mine. Like a fluffy feather settling to the ground - the softness of them overwhelmed me.
She pulled back to where she'd just been, her face filling my vision. She glanced down at my lips - which I think were quivering - and then kissed me again - this time just a bit harder.
She pulled back, looked at my lips again, and then kissed me harder.
And then harder.
And then harder.
There was a pout on her lips this time. I hadn't returned her kiss - any of them. It had been all her. This was foreign to me. Amazing - but unimaginable - I was still in shock.
Sara stood to her feet and looked down at me.
"Daddy," she said. "Tonight, I don't want to be your little girl. Tonight, I want to be your woman."
She stared into my eyes as she used her fingers to push the left shoulder strap of her swimming suit to the side, down her arm. She reached to the other side and pushed that one down as well. Her shoulders were bare and the thrill of that thought sent a jolt through my cock. The top of her swimsuit was only held in place by the fullness of her breasts. Breastfeeding Max had swelled them from little more than A-cups to almost C's.
Sara reached her arms across her body, hiding her breasts from my view for a moment, and then she began tugging the top of her suit down further. I swallowed the lump in my throat as more and more of her tit-flesh was revealed to me. Her areolas appeared next, dark brown and so forbidden that I had never even glimpsed them before. The material of her suit caught on her nipples and I suddenly realized that they were stiff - and so big - nearly as big as Carla's.
The suit snagged on my little girl's nipples and then - as she pulled again - finally snapped free. Suddenly those gorgeous mommy mounds appeared in their fullness. I found that I couldn't look away. My daughter's breasts - her tits - were hanging in front of my face - and I couldn't look away.
Her fingers continued to pull at her body-covering and the suit slid easily for a time - exposing her flat stomach, her cute belly button, and her chiseled abs.
I looked up into her eyes - my daughter's eyes. Her mouth was smiling - but tentative. Her eyes were pleading - and filled with a desire that I had never seen before.
Her fingers moved again - tugging the tight cloth around the swell of her hips. My eyes dropped to the gorgeous flesh that was continuing to be revealed. I was enthralled.
My little girl could not be offering - asking - what she had said. This was my baby.
