He did not know how long he stared at this woman, this daughter of his, whose face and hair were hidden by the towel but whose nude form slid into his mind until he could see it from all sides, evaluate every curve and dimple. He retreated, stepping as silently as a burglar to his own room, through the open door, still watching. His room was dark. Lily kept the drapes closed in summer. He felt the-whiskey he had drunk, a heat roaring into his veins, like he had drunk the whole quart and was as tight as a tick. He dropped his cigar butt in the ash tray on his dresser and half closed his door, facing the glow of sunshine in the drapes and seeing Lily there, too, her round buttocks and her pretty tits. He turned to the bed and she stood there, her dark-tufted pubes thrust toward him. Wherever he gazed she leaped from inside his skull and stood nude, her face veiled by the towel.
His cock was bunting his shorts.
He unbuttoned them, unzipped, let them fall. He gripped his cock, a huge, grotesquely swollen agony, all the pain he had ever suffered physically grown out to an upcurving bone.
He began jerking off, something he had not done since the age of sixteen when he began screwing a girl on the next block and had been immensely relieved to no longer have to masturbate. This was self-abuse, punishment for having gotten hard for his daughter. He wrenched it, jerked it, beat his balls with his knuckles..
The room had gotten darker. The door was closed! He felt a warmth at his back and side, heard a sound not his own, saw a slim hand reach around his hip and cup on the swollen end of his cock.
He heard a whisper. 'Daddy, let me do it.'
His daughter, Lily, pried away his fingers, then fisted his cock and began jerking it off Disbelief shattered his last vestiges of self-control. He could see the girl's hand kneading and pulling his tool, could feel the soft femaleness of it, just as he could feel the burn of a tit against his back and a hip pressing his ass. Her breath fanned his shoulder. But this could not really be happening. Therefore he let the hand manipulate his turgid cock. It slid down his scrotum and gently squeezed his balls, producing a seething heat that made him groan and stiffen, raising on tiptoes, expelling his breath with a wrenching sigh.
In a flash he knew that Kit had not been real either. His mind leaped light-years backward for an explanation, to children's stories. The neighborhood was bewitched. Kit had never been as sexy as this morning. She had radiated lust, inflaming him and Lily as well. Kit was a witch, a sorceress, and he, suffering a hardness of cock, a monstrous, agonizing extension of it that made a grotesque bludgeon of an ordinary prick, had ceased to be an ordinary mortal.
Since none of it was real he let his daughter fondle his cock. She was no longer jerking it off but playing with it, exploring, fingering the flare of the head, caressing the glans, tracing the pencil-sized blue veins on the sides, tugging the loose scrotum and palming each swollen testicle in turn.
Her chin was on his shoulder, a hand on the other, her hot body against him and her pussy fluff a tantalizing silkiness rubbing his thigh. His head hung. His gaze was fixed on the bulb-tipped bony monstrosity sprouting from his dark pubic ruff, and the slim hand weaving about it, caressing and squeezing.
Time slipped out of gear. He could not guess how many seconds or minutes she toyed with his genitals before she moved, stepping around and facing him, taking the ball-bat prick in both hands and drawing him, backing slowly, inching back toward his bed, her hands feathering about his cock SO lightly that perhaps there was no contact, simply waves of heat weaving a net of iron that would. pull the organ out of his body if he did not follow her.
Her head also hung, her gaze fixed on his cock. Her dark hair looked glossy and clean, brushed to shining. She smelled of soap and hot cunt. Her pretty, tip-tilted breasts glowed palely in shadow, projecting dark points. Her white belly narrowed to a protruding pubic bush that filled the space between her thighs.
She was lowering. Her hands left him, moved behind her as she sat on the bed, but he could still feel them drawing him even as she scrunched back on the bed, on her back, legs spreading out wide, showing him her opening crotch.
Her hairy outer lips had swollen away from each other. The damp coral teardrop shape of her cunt beckoned. She raised her legs. The red oval of her vaginal mouth looked small, but that might be an illusion, like the impossibly gigantic growth of his prick.
He knelt on the bed between her legs, planted a hand on each side of her torso and murmured, 'You steer it in,' knowing that she could more precisely plug it in without hurting herself.
Her thumb and forefinger pinched the stem and seated the swollen arrowhead in an oily socket. He nudged. A jelly-soft mouth closed on his cockhead. Her breath hissed out. He hung over her, firmly poised, allowing a little weight to fall on the prong sinking by quarter inches into her cunt.
'Wait,' she whispered. She fingered it about, lubricating it, then said, 'Now. Deeper.'
The big tool squeezed into her.
Again her breath hissed out. She squirmed. Her body trembled a moment, quieted. Her legs lifted and crossed on his back. He felt the form of her cunt change. It was open now and straightened but he still eased cautiously into the narrow channel.
A flicker of awareness advised him that he was pronging into his daughter's cunt, that she was no enchanted creature but Lily Folsom, and he her loving father. He frowned, confused. The illusion of magic faded and he knew it had been a self-serving justification at best, leaving him with his cock half into his beloved daughter. But because he loved her he could not accept it as evil. It had to be good, an expression of his love.
He sank deeper: She squirmed, adjusting to it. Her heels hardened on his back. Her hips moved, lifting, impaling her cunt on the bony cock. Waves of damp heat washed its length and when he looked down at their pubes he saw that their hair had merged.
She arched up and the hair flattened together.
He was full into his daughter's body.
He sank down on her, feeling the hard points of her tits burn his chest.
They lay still for a moment, his meat throbbing inside her.
He whispered, 'Did it-does it-hurt?' 'Like eating too much Sunday dinner.'
Her arms curled about him. She pressed her velvety cheek to his.
He said, 'You mean, you liked it going in, but now it's too much?'
'Did any woman ever complain of too much?' There was a giggle in her voice.
Her amusement made him frown. Was this a game to her, mere playing? His love for her was an overpowering, deadly serious thing. Her mother had been like this, always seeing the funny side of sex, especially of his solicitude for her comfort. He had learned that women were tougher than men thought. Still, this was his virginal daughter. Had she been a virgin?
She said, 'Daddy, your tool is awfully big.'
His impulse was to apologize, to withdraw the offending member, to bang his head against a wall to atone for having caused her pain.
But there was a lilt in her voice. She was teasing him, this teenager with a monstrous cock up her cunt She giggled, 'I'm not made of sugar candy.'
The echo of her mother's voice, so many years ago. On their wedding night she had added, 'I wish you'd fuck me lots harder.'
But Lily added, 'I'm pretty stretchy inside.'
A certain tension left him. He glanced sidewise, met her gaze and saw the twinkle in it. Yes, females were animals, compared to men, quite indifferent to morality. He had learned that in a thousand harsh lessons from his wife but could-not get it through his thick skull.
And no matter how much he blamed it on Kit, his daughter had seduced him.
When he had glimpsed her naked in her room, drying her hair, the towel concealing her face, she had been posing for him. She had known he could see her nudity front and back.
A throb in his prick made him push deeper into her belly.
'Mm-mm!' Lily murmured. 'Yes, I'm ready now, Daddy.'
Her eagerness stripped away his last regrets. He began to fuck his daughter, slowly, with exquisite caution, short jogs in the tight suction of her vaginal tube. She gave a moan and hipped up to meet his shoves. Yes, she was a female, a member of the unknowable, immoral, unpredictably pagan sex. If he had thought differently of her it had been his own prudishness being expressed.
He lengthened his strokes. Her cunt sucked on his retreating tool and gaped, welcoming its reentry.
She gasped, 'Daddy, your cock is so wonderful, filling my hole and-oh, Daddy, please, push in and stay a
