This Changes Everything

I popped a couple of melatonin and brushed my teeth, then slipped off my shorts and T-shirt, and jumped into the king-size bed I share with my wife, Meghan.

I always sleep naked. It's been a habit my entire adult life. I jokingly tell Meghan that I have to be ready at a moment's notice.

I checked my email one last time from my cellphone as the melatonin kicked in, rolling onto my right side facing away from the center of the bed. Our daughter Samantha had disappeared into her room some time earlier.

The last thing I remember seeing was the red numbers "10:45" before sleep overtook me.

Thunder and lightning with a downpour brought me close to consciousness and there was a female voice: "... I'm scared ... This storm is bad..."

"It'll be OK, Meghan, go back to sleep," I mumbled then returned to blissful slumber. I heard her say something but it didn't make sense.

The melatonin eventually loosened its grip and I returned to partial consciousness, laying against my wife, hand on her hip with a raging hard-on laying on her thigh, poking into the fabric of her panties amid her partially parted legs.

She doesn't sleep naked, preferring a night shirt for bed. And, of course, the panties. Shrugging off the melatonin's effects, a surge of blood into that stiffy started an urge, a strong urge.

I slid my hand off her hip and began rubbing the head of my cock against her gash, up and down, up and down, and up and down until I felt the moisture from her cunt provide friction to the movement.

Meghan was not asleep. She raised her hips and I felt her hands slide her panties down her legs and off her feet. I don't remember her being so flexible that she could do that without losing contact with me.

She raised her upper leg slightly and on cue I found her wet hole and pushed my engorged cock head through the labia and into the tunnel, in seconds hitting bottom and burying that throbbing beast to the hilt.

I knew immediately something was wrong. My cock went in too fast. Her pussy was too wet. And that tunnel was very tight. Very fucking tight.

In an instant my brain was on alert, adrenaline pushing aside the lingering effects of the melatonin. My loose hand explored what was under the night shirt. A very slim waist and small breasts. That's not my wife's waist and the boobs she carries around.

The very tight pussy gripped my cock like I haven't felt in a long time. I knew immediately what I'd done: My cock was in my daughter Samantha. And, sorry to say, it felt good, real damn good.

I froze, took a couple of deep breaths.

"Dad?" came her voice out of the darkness.

"Dad?"

"Daddy?"

"Mom's not here, Dad. Remember, she's out of town on a business trip."

I couldn't speak. Why did she say that?

I realized now that she had been scared by the storm and had asked to sleep in the big bed, not thinking that I wound be in there naked. No daughter expects her father to be naked.

I made a decision in that moment, heart pounding.

I put both hands on her hips and began pulling my cock out. I pulled back as the tight tunnel gripped my shaft, not wanting to let go.

I pulled back until just the bulbous engorged head was all that remained inside her. My plan was to pull out, apologize and send her back to her room, then talk in the morning about what an unfortunate thing happened, then apologize again and as often as it took thereafter.

That was my plan but the hot, wet and tight tunnel made me change my mind on the spur of the moment.

With an exhale, I pushed my cock back into her, again burying the entire pole into my daughter's sweet young pussy and eliciting a gasp from her.

That was the point of no return. She didn't push me away. My brain went on an autopilot that is decades in the making.

My movements got faster as lust kicked into high gear, nothing less than a wanton desire to finish the act I started with a torrent of sperm. It just became a cunt to fuck.

She grunted with every time I hit bottom in that sweet tight hole. The pressure in my balls began to build within a few strokes. I soon found that we were both writhing together and sweating.

I threw the covers off and I could see her sweet young body in the glow of the dim bedroom light, her eyes closed and her auburn hair bouncing as she met my thrusts with a pushback. So natural. No need to teach it. It's intuition.

The nipples on her small breasts were erect as I pinched them. I wondered what she was thinking.

I had never looked at Samantha's body before with lust. I had never even dared to think such an act was possible, such a forbidden yet deliciously wicked dance like this. I doted over her, protected her, and here I was as if she was a woman, giving in to pure unbridled desire.

It didn't take long before I grunted, yelled and the jizz shot into her. The tunnel was so tight that the cum didn't stay in, and much of it flowed back out onto the sheets.

I pushed my cock all the way in and unloaded.

"Oh, baby. Oh, Samantha," was all I could mutter.

She was silent and laid there and took it.

Eventually the spasms subsided and the last drops from my balls filled my girl's vagina.

Our breathing returned to normal, the only sounds in an otherwise silent room. Too damn silent.

I wanted to speak but just didn't find words.

I could see past Samantha's head to the clock on my wife's nightstand: 4:30.

My deflating cock eventually slid out of her, and with it came the final mix of sperm and cunt sauces. Daddy's sperm mixed with daughter's fluid.

The reality of the situation and regret flooded in. I kept a hand on her hip in a gesture of what I'd hoped was comfort as the thoughts raced through my mind: What the hell have I done? What is going to happen next? What is Meghan going to do when she finds out? Who is Samantha going to tell?

Five minutes of pleasure can easily lead to a lifetime of regret.

Amid my misery, I must have dozed off.

I woke up and looked at the clock. It was 7:15 a.m. Down the hallway I heard Samantha getting ready for school: shower, hair dryer, makeup, clip-clop of shoes on the hard floor.

She didn't approach the master bedroom.

It seemed like another morning in the St. John house.

I didn't dare move.

Eventually, I heard the front door open, then a pause for longer than it would have taken to walk through it. The door closed and she was gone.