Chapter 3: Changing Perspectives
**Lyla:
For the next two hours, I could barely sleep. Every time I'd drift off, I'd picture my father's penis—no, dick—sliding in and out of Anna's wet ... pussy. Or I'd wake up with my hands between my legs, rubbing myself furiously while remembering the way Anna had licked between my legs. I even tried inserting my finger inside of myself, like Anna had done right before I'd exploded, but even then I couldn't sleep.
Despite my orgasms, my mind still raced. Never in my wildest dreams had I imagined being intimate with my father—or with another woman. The Sexual Education class I'd taken at boarding school last semester had only gone over the act of intercourse. The teachers never said anything about slapping tits, eating pussy, or sucking cock. They hadn't even used those terms, much less discussed who we'd be having relations with! I always just assumed I would only have sex with my husband. We were often told that we'd be married at the age of twenty, to the man our fathers picked for us. After tonight, my presumptions changed; my whole view on the world changed. Sex was raw and ... amazing.
But to be stripped naked in front of my father felt so dirty, and not necessarily in a bad way. I kept remembering the way he'd looked at me as my dress fell to the floor. There was a hunger in his eyes that wasn't there when he looked at Anna. I felt powerful and sensual. When he brushed his knuckles across my skin, my nipples tightened involuntarily. Even now, my nipples hardened at the thought. The dirty, twisted wrongness made my body ache for more of his touch, even if my mind hadn't caught up.
Surely the time I'd spent with Daddy and Anna was a one-time experience. A birthday treat, as he had said earlier. It wasn't as if Daddy had actually done anything to me. He'd been with Anna the whole time. Besides a few caresses and a kiss, Daddy hadn't done anything wrong, right? Even if his caresses had been on my tits and his kiss had been with his tongue...
Dang it, I wished the teachers had talked more about this in Sex Ed. Was it normal for a girl to lust after her father? Was it acceptable to be with another woman? What were the rules and how far was too far? My father had to know the answers. He was on The Order's council after all. What he'd done had to be normal behavior.
Which could also be the reason he hadn't done anything else with me. Maybe it was okay to touch your daughter's breasts and kiss her with your tongue, but that was all. But if that was so, why did I secretly want more?
Over and over again, I would relive the night in my mind. I'd imagine the way my father had touched my nipples and the way he'd kissed me with his tongue. The spot between my legs ached at the thought of Anna's tongue flicking back and forth. I never knew it was possible to feel so... so dirty and so good at the same time.
More than anything, I kept remembering the time I had leaned forward as Anna licked my cunt and saw my father's cock pounding in and out of Anna's tiny hole. It was so big, not just long, but bigger around than my wrist. And when he orgasmed, he'd thrust my head down so that it touched my face as it sprayed warm semen all over me. And afterward, he'd used the tip of his penis to rub the sticky seed across my cheeks, chin, and lips.
Why was I getting turned on by the memory? Deep down, it had to be wrong for a father to cum in his daughter's face, but my body didn't care. He'd rubbed his penis across my lips and had even made me swallow a glob of semen that had landed on my breast. I was torn between wanting it to happen again, and fearing that it would.
Despite myself, I thought more and more of my father's cock and of the way he'd touched me. I wondered how it would feel for him to suck my nipples and my pussy. I wondered what it would be like to feel his cock sliding in and out of me. In my dreams, my mouth was wrapped around his swollen dick, and I was cleaning my own juices off of him.
How had Daddy's cock made Anna feel? She seemed to like it—a lot. I'd planned to ask Anna what it felt like, but Daddy hadn't finished with her by the time I'd gone to bed. In fact, Uncle Peter had slipped into Daddy's office once I'd left and closed the door behind him.
The clock read 2:14 when I heard a knock on my bedroom door. I bolted up right, yanking my fingers away from my wet pussy where I'd been pleasuring myself. Another knock had me hurrying across my darkened room to my closet door for a robe that hung from a hook. It was new, like the rest of my wardrobe; something my parents had bought me for my eighteenth birthday. They said it was time to dress like an adult, so they threw out all my old clothes, and bought me more ladylike things.
I hadn't had time to look through them because my party had started as soon as I'd arrived home, but I remembered my mother telling me where to find the essentials such as underwear, nightgowns, and robes. It was a good thing she'd mentioned the robe, because as soon as I'd opened the drawer with my nightgowns, my jaw fell open. The scraps of fabric were like nothing I'd seen before. There were gowns that looked like short slips made of satin, lace, spandex, and mesh, some sheer garments that looked like stockings...for your whole body, and things that looked like they were made of a few strips of fabric that in no way could cover you. There were also several things that looked like fancy bras and corsets, but without the beast cup. My tits would be pushed up high, but on full display. Before bed, I spent at least a half hour trying on the different "nightgowns", feeling sexy in all of them.
The one I had chosen for bed was white satin and lace and was the most modest of my choices. It looked like a slip but was so short that the bottom of my butt cheeks were exposed, and the thin strips of fabric that were supposed to cover my breasts, covered only the middle of each breast. As I tossed and turned in bed, my tits slid from under the fabric and my nipples peaked out the sides. I didn't care; I felt sexy, like Anna had in her blue dress. The tiny white thong that went with it was so small, I forgot I wore anything at all.
Opening my bedroom door, I was happy for the white robe that fell just a few inches beneath my rear. Uncle Peter stood before me, still wearing the clothes he'd worn to the party. He looked me over, then cleared his throat.
"Sleeping while your father and I finish up your party?" He asked, his tone impatient.
"Daddy told me to get ready for bed," I stammered, pulling my robe tighter as my uncle's eyes lingered on my breasts.
"Did he now? And are you ready for bed? Because after your father finally got the last guest to leave, he's in a foul mood. He's expecting you to follow the rules, Lyla. You don't want to disappoint him, do you?"
"I—I am following the rules. I'm in bed, trying to sleep, just like he told me to do."
Uncle Peter scoffed. "Your first day back and you're already messing up. You're eighteen now, Lyla. A grown woman. You need to start acting like one."
"What do you mean? I thought I was—"
"You're mother is out of town, which makes you the lady of the house. Do you honestly expect a man of your father's standing to sleep alone? You are now in charge of warming his bed," Uncle Peter said impatiently. "No Order man should have to sleep alone in a cold bed. It's your responsibility to sleep beside him and keep him comfortable."
"I—I didn't know that rule. No one ever told me I was supposed to spend the night in his bed when mother left." It didn't exactly make sense to me. If Daddy was cold, why didn't he just use an extra blanket?
"You didn't know you are responsible of keeping the men in your home comfortable?" Uncle Peter asked, sarcastically.
"Well, yes, I know I'm supposed to keep them comfortable but... I thought that applied to taking care of things around the house. Cleaning, cooking, keeping his wet bar filled---not keeping his bed warm."
"You have servants for that. You're job is about more than petty housework, Lyla. And if you don't want to get in trouble, you'd better get to your father's room before he finishes his shower. He's already mad about the party. You don't want him to punish you on your first night, do you?"
"No, I'll—" my eyes widened as I remembered what I wore underneath my robe. I couldn't sleep next to Daddy in something that didn't cover me. But the tiny gown I wore was the most concealing of all the nightclothes I now owned.
"You look wonderful, Lyla," Uncle Peter said looking back to my chest. His voice had softened as if he could read my thoughts. "You're father will be pleased."
I looked down, wondering how he could possibly say such things....until I realized the robe I wore was a see-through white mesh that revealed every inch of what lay underneath. In the darkness of my bedroom, I hadn't noticed it was sheer. The tight hold I had on my robe had bunched the fabric of my nightgown so that not only were my breasts pushed together but my right nipple was completely exposed, gleaming through the translucent material.
Horrified, I tried to cover myself with my hands, but Uncle Peter reached out and stopped me.
"Lyla, I told you earlier that you have to be comfortable with your body. Never cover yourself in front of a man. It's an insult that could get you disciplined." He grabbed my wrists and pulled them to my sides. The robe fell open and he gazed hungrily at my body.
The gown didn't budge and my exposed nipple stuck straight out, hardening before his eyes. His grip on my wrists tightened and his breathing became heavy. When I glanced down, trying to look away from his lust filled gaze, I saw a bulge rising in his pants. My uncle was growing an erection at the sight of me. For some reason, it scared me. Uncle Peter seemed so nice sometimes, and so harsh other times. Even now, his grip on my wrists was painful. He made me nervous and uncomfortable, and even a little scared.
Suddenly, he dropped my arms, "Come on, I'll walk you to your father's room. He should be finishing his shower shortly. He'll be angry if he gets out and you aren't there."
When we reached my parent's bedroom, Uncle Peter instructed me to leave my robe on a chair and crawl into Daddy's big, king sized bed to wait for him. When I had done as he'd asked--and he'd caught a glimpse of my rear as I climbed into bed--he left, shutting the door behind him.
I could hear the shower running through the closed bathroom door and wondered if I was supposed to stay awake and wait for him, or go to sleep now. Not that I could sleep. My mind was going a mile a minute, thinking about what it would be like to sleep beside him. I'd have to sleep on my side and keep my back to him in case my breasts slid out from my gown again. It was going to be a long night.
By the time Daddy emerged from the bathroom, I was resting comfortably under the covers, hidden from his view by the thick blankets. For a moment, I thought about pretending to be asleep but quickly decided against it. My father rubbed a towel over his blond hair, drying it off as best he could as he walked from the steamy room. He was naked and the faint lamp light cast soft shadows across his skin. When he saw me, he smiled and moved toward the bed, tossing the towel carelessly back into the bathroom.
A shiver snaked its way up my spine as he slipped into bed next to me. Would he touch me? Would he make me touch him? An hour ago, I'd been reliving our night together and fantasizing about spending more time with him. I'd wanted him to taste between my legs. I'd wanted to take him into my mouth. I imagined him pushing his cock into my pussy the way he'd thrust it into Anna's. But now, as I lay mostly naked beside him, I was afraid I'd get my wish.
