I couldn't sleep. I laid flat on my back in the bed, staring at the ceiling. Trying to figure out how to re-write a program at work was keeping my brain going against its will. My 34-year-old wife, Sarah, lay on her back beside me, sound asleep. I envied her unconsciousness.

I got up and padded into the kitchen, wearing only my white cotton boxers. I got a glass out of the cabinet, splashed a shot of scotch into it, dropped in some ice cubes, and wandered on into the den, where I switched on a lamp and sprawled out on the couch with the TV remote.

Nothing was on at 2:00 AM. I stared mindlessly into the TV set, occasionally sipping on the scotch, while the code for that frigging program kept swirling around through my head. Finally my funk was interrupted by the sudden, silent appearance of my 11-year-old daughter, Rachel.

"What are you doing up?" I said, setting my drink on the coffee table.

"I can't sleep," she said, rubbing her eyes.

"You too?" I smiled at her. She was a beautiful child -- long, dark brown hair, big brown eyes, and milky white skin with still just a hint of baby fat.

"Can I watch TV with you?" she said. She stretched, holding her arms in the air above her head, her white t-shirt rising to expose her little belly and the white cotton panties that were all she'd worn to bed with the t-shirt.

"Sure," I said. "Get comfortable." I pulled up to half-sit, half-lie on the couch with my head propped up against its arm; she snuggled in between my legs, she also on her back, with her little bottom in my crotch and her head rested on my shoulder, her face close beside mine.

I suppose I must have fallen back into my mindlessness; it seemed like quite a while before I was brought back to reality when Rachel said, "Mmmm... that feels good, Daddy."

Only then did I realize I'd been absently moving my hand up and down her little front -- rubbing her tummy for a while, then gently stroking her neck, chin, and face, then back to her tummy again, much like I might have done with my wife had she been there in the same position.

"You like that, do you?" I said, a little sorry I was now conscious of pleasuring her -- I felt, now, that I'd better pay attention to what I was doing and stop.

"Yes, Daddy, I like it. Don't stop."

I placed my hand back on her neck and -- now paying attention to how it felt -- enjoyed the creamy smoothness of her skin. She made another pleasurable little groan, and wriggled her little butt around to settle in and get more comfortable.

I felt a sudden, gentle rush of affection for this sweet child of mine and the innocence of her smile and her movements, and I pulled back her thick, dark hair to press a kiss on the side of her neck, just below her ear. She uttered something between a luxurious giggle and another "mmm," and I started to smile too -- then I froze for a moment when I realized that my penis had twitched into the beginning of an erection, pressed as it was beneath my daughter's bottom.

"Do it again, Daddy," she said, unaware of the terror that had momentarily seized my mind. "That felt nice!"

Her little smile was irresistible -- and for that matter innocent -- so I dropped the fear and planted another little kiss on her neck. She purred quietly with girlish pleasure, and I drew a little line up and down the side of her neck with the tip of my tongue. And my cock moved again, this time beginning to steadily stiffen.

I gently took her face in my hand and pulled her head back into my shoulder, and shifted my position to try and relieve the pressure on my growing penis. Rachel squirmed and moved with me to adjust to my new position, and in the end there was no change -- my cock, now nearly fully erect, was nestled snugly between the cheeks of my baby girl's butt, separated from it only by the cotton of our underwear.

In an effort to lose the erection, I tried paying attention to whatever late-night drivel was playing out on the TV -- but Rachel suddenly squirmed again and said, "I think there's a rock in my butt!"

I chuckled nervously, but she squirmed around some more -- as though to feel it out more thoroughly -- and said, giggling, "There IS a rock in my butt. What happened to your lap, Daddy?"

"Just something that happens to men now and then," I said, trying to sound nonchalant.

"Does it hurt?" said asked, turning her head so that her big brown eyes peered curiously into mine, so close I could feel her breath on my face.

"No, sweetheart, it doesn't hurt."

Then she scared the hell out of me. She giggled again, and said, "I think it feels good." And saying that, she began slowly sliding the crack of her tiny little ass up and down the length of my now fully erect penis. She seemed fascinated by this new experience.

Not knowing what to do, I rested my hand on her tummy, gently rubbing it while she wiggled curiously around on my cock. And now something changed -- a change for which I can find no accurate words. Nothing was said, but we both suddenly knew that we were someplace where we perhaps ought not be -- but neither of us knew quite where it was, and neither of us did anything to stop it, because it felt good.

I was afraid to touch her. I rubbed her smooth little belly with my left hand and cradled her head with my right -- I didn't dare let my hands go anywhere else -- and just let my pelvis move in the natural rhythm it took as it followed my cotton-clad penis's ride beneath my daughter's squirming buttocks.

Her eyes were wide and solemn, and her breathing uneven, as she moved -- she knew something very rare and pleasurable was happening between us, but she didn't understand it -- and her whole body rose and fell as I, beneath her, gave up on controlling the thrusts of my throbbing cock.

"Daddy," she whispered, "this feels good..."

"Yes baby," I moaned softly, "Yes baby, it does..." Then I groaned, pressing my face into my baby girl's hair as my cock let loose with great hot spurts of cum -- nearly painful spurts, as squeezed as I was beneath my daughter's tiny ass.

We lay motionless for a few moments, apart from the post-come twitchings of my cock, then Rachel said, "Are you alright, Daddy?"

"Yes, baby," I said. "I'm alright." I laid there with her cradled in my arms, stroking her smooth, white face with my hand.

"We're all wet, Daddy," Rachel said suddenly. "What happened?" My cum, now cooling, had made a big spot that soaked through my shorts, and on through hers, to make us both wet and sticky. I was uncomfortable now -- not just with a wet spot, but with confusion over what I had just done.

"I guess Daddy had a boo-boo," I said. "We probably ought to try going back to bed now. What do you think?"

She didn't say anything. Instead, she turned on her side in my embrace, and pressed a sweet, pouty-lipped kiss on my mouth before jumping up and heading out of the room and down the dark hallway to her bedroom.

I laid there for only a brief while before rising, switching off the TV and lamp, and stopping by the bathroom where I got rid of the soiled shorts and cleaned myself up.

Sarah, still lying flat on her back on top of the covers, woke up when I crawled back into the bed. "Where've you been?" she asked sleepily, never opening her eyes.

"Watching TV with Rachel," I said.

"Rachel? What was she doing up at this hour?" Sarah stretched as she spoke, raising her knees and beginning to slowly and absentmindedly diddle her black-thatched pubic area. My wife was beautiful, with olive skin, jet-black hair, and piercing dark brown eyes that could kill you with their sparkle. After sixteen years of marriage, thanks in part to what I always thought might be a true case of nymphomania, she still turned me on as though I had met her only yesterday.

"Said she couldn't sleep," I said, "just like me."

"Hmm," said Sarah, responding as though she'd forgotten she asked a question. Her hips were rocking gently as her fingers, ever so slowly, moved around her womanhood, lost in the black thicket of her bush.

Possibly I shouldn't have done this. But I have never lied to my wife, nor even withheld anything I felt was important to our relationship. I sat up on the bed, my back leaning against the headboard, my cock dangling half-flaccid, maybe even obscenely, across my right thigh. "She laid with me on the couch while we watched TV," I said.

There was no reaction; it was as if she wasn't listening.

"I got an erection. A huge hard-on."

There was a pause, then Sarah said, "She's a beautiful girl."

"You don't seem concerned," I said. "This has me pretty bothered."

Sarah sank two fingers into her moist opening, and squeezed her thighs together, hiding both hands in her pubic patch, where they dug hungrily away at whatever need she was trying with such exquisitely lazy slowness to satisfy.

"I came," I said, a little annoyed by her seeming disinterest. "I shot my load in my shorts."

Her hips bucked up -- seemingly trying to devour her hands -- as I spoke.

"Did she know it?" she said.

"She knew something had happened. I don't think she understood."

"Was she bothered by it?"

"I don't think so."

Sarah was quiet for a time, still digging away at the itch between her legs. Her voice and breathing were a little uneven when she finally spoke again.

"I always wanted my father when I was a child," she said.

If I had been confused while lying on the couch with my daughter, now I was doubly confused lying here with my wife.

"So do you think that's a normal thing?" I asked.

"I don't know," she said, suddenly letting go of her bush and rolling over on her side with her face practically pressed into my cock. With her right hand, she took my tired member and brought its head to her lips. She flicked out her tongue and teased it, licking slowly around the tip of it, sucking only the head of it into her mouth, only to roll it back out and take it back in again at her leisure. I was hardening again, and she started going down deeper and deeper, looking up at me while she took more and more of my thick nine inches down her throat.

Then she stopped abruptly, as soon as my cock was back to complete and throbbing erection.

"Be my Daddy," she said, her dark eyes smoldering, drilling fiery black holes into my own. "Be my Daddy and fuck me."



After an unusually stressful week at work, it was finally Saturday, and I was determined to do nothing at all but rest. My wife, Sarah, and our oldest daughter, Rebecca, 15, had left early to go shopping, leaving me and our 11-year-old, Rachel, to sleep in.

I had risen earlier and showered and shaved, but returned to the bed to just sit up against a pile of pillows and immerse myself in a book -- some mindless piece of fiction I'd bought a few days before, hoping I'd find a chance to get lost in it.

And lost in it I was -- forgot the whole world existed -- when I heard a tiny voice at the bedroom door. It was Rachel. She had cracked the door open, and about all I could see was her face peering politely in as she said, "Daddy, I need a favor."

"Come in, sweetheart," I said. "What's up?"

"Can I borrow your bathtub?" she asked, opening the door and stepping into the room. She wore her usual sleepwear of a t-shirt and panties, and her long, wavy, near-black hair -- so much like her mother's -- was tousled by sleep, adding a kind of wildness to her beautiful, milky-white face.

"Sure, baby," I said. "But what happened to yours?"

"Becca made a great big mess of the whole bathroom, and I don't feel like cleaning it up," she said.

"Let her clean up her own mess, huh?" I said. "Just don't make a mess of mine, ok?"

"Ok," she said. "And one more favor?"

"What, sweetheart?"

"Can I have one of your t-shirts?"

"Out of clothes, too?" I asked.

"Yes."

I started to get up and accommodate her -- then remembered I was naked beneath the bedsheet that covered me from the waist down.

"Top drawer on the left," I said, nodding toward the dresser.

"Thanks, Daddy," she said, pulling a folded t-shirt from the drawer and disappearing into the bathroom.

As the door closed behind her, my mind wandered back involuntarily to the night, earlier in the week, in which she and I had found ourselves curled up together on the couch in front of the TV, unable to sleep. I still had mixed emotions over that moment. Holding my daughter close in my arms, I had developed a hard-on and even come in my shorts, excited against my will by the beautiful child in my lap.

Something in me -- call it the effect of centuries of Christian civilization? -- told me I had been wrong, that I should be ashamed of myself. But other things in me -- my intuitive sense that my physical and emotional instincts, no matter how primal, should be trusted, among other things -- told me that I should remain open to this new sensation involving my daughter.

And in defense of that latter, my own wife -- my daughter's own mother -- had been amazingly unconcerned about the incident when I related it to her!

My thoughts on the matter swirled around lazily in my mind for a while, then I turned back to the book I was reading, and to the escape it provided. By the time Rachel emerged from the bathroom, so much time had elapsed that I had forgotten she was there.

She stood at the foot of the bed, wrapped in a white terry towel. Her hair -- a tangled mess when I saw it last -- was now perfectly coiffed, and she had a sweet smile on her full, pouty lips.

"Can we talk, Daddy?" she said.

"Sure sweetheart," I said, setting the book aside. "What about?"

She didn't speak. Instead, she crawled up on the bed and rolled herself into position in my lap, her back pressed against my chest, her head resting back on my shoulder.

She turned her sweet face up toward mine, smiled a mischievous, girlish smile, and said "Nothing!"

I gave her a squeeze, my arms wrapped around her. Her big, expressive dark eyes, just like her mother's, were irresistible.

"Mmmm," she purred, still smiling. "That's what I really wanted."

I smiled too. And, not really knowing what else to do, I just held her close and rocked her gently from side to side. I loved her, and felt it like a warm glow all over me in that moment.

"Daddy?" she said, breaking the silence.

"Yes, baby."

"Would you kiss my neck again like you did the other night? It felt good."

"Yes it did, didn't it?" I said. But I was worried. Where was this going? And at just 11 years old, should this child be initiating this kind of contact with anybody, let alone her own father?

My hand shaking a little, I pulled back her thick hair to expose her creamy white neck, and kissed it gently -- from just below her ear, then a little lower, and lower, to her shoulder, and then back up again... freshly bathed, so smooth and nice, it all felt too good...

She purred contentedly as my tongue and warm breath moved up and down her neck, and she stretched out her arms and arched her back in response. But with that amount of movement, her towel, only loosely gathered at the front, came undone and fell open, exposing her body down to her waist.

If she noticed, she didn't care -- I stopped in my motions at that moment, but she said, "Don't stop, Daddy. You feel so good!"

Her back still to me, I pressed my lips against the back of her neck, across her little shoulders, and partway down her back. With each of my kisses came a sweet "Mmmm" from my baby girl -- and with each of those, God help me, came a new stirring in my cock, which was starting uncontrollably to harden.

Once again, I was terrified, and my heart pounded furiously. But my movements began to pay less and less attention to my fears, and more and more to my daughter's own, innocent desire to be pleasured.

No longer frozen by fear in my sitting position, I stretched out, rolled my baby girl gently off my lap and onto the bed beside me, and threw back the sheet to get it out of the way.

Her towel fell free completely, but I could not yet bring myself to look at her nudity. Instead, as she lay there, smiling, on her back, I laid beside her, propped up on an elbow, gazing deeply into her eyes.

"I love you, Daddy," she said, her own dark eyes reflecting my gaze.

"I love you too, sweet girl," I answered. My cock was rock-hard now, my heart beating with excitement. I wanted her, yet was afraid to touch her.

"Kiss me Daddy," she said. "Please?"

"Oh I want to, sweetheart," I said, "How I want to! But I'm not really sure we should."

"I see you kiss Mommy all the time," she said, plaintively. "And you love me too, don't you? Doesn't that mean you can kiss me too?"

There was no point evaluating logic. She had convinced me -- even without words. The look in her eyes had been enough. I bent toward her, gently touching the tip of my tongue, then my whole mouth, to her full, pouty lips.

She was of course no experienced kisser; but her mouth soon learned how to follow the movements of my own, and in a few seconds she was responding eagerly, even darting her own tongue about in response to the motions of mine.

It was too much. Still not yet wanting to look, I let my left hand move down her side as we kissed, feeling her smooth skin all the way down to her hips, where I slid my hand beneath them and gently squeezed at my daughter's tiny buttocks.

She purred audibly, lifted her hips as I squeezed, and kissed me ever more deeply. She was learning...

Still afraid to go further, I drew back, and looked once more into her face. She showed no fear, only contentment. She smiled sweetly into my eyes.

"Don't stop touching me, Daddy," she said. "You feel good."

"And you feel good, too, sweetheart," I said. And finally, as I laid there propped on one arm, I let my gaze wander down the length of her nakedness. My heart rate quickened as I saw that my daughter's breasts were just beginning to develop -- and that a tiny, beautiful wisp of jet-black hair was sprouting at the top of her as yet untouched pubic mound. "You're a beautiful girl," I mumbled on, my eyes returning to meet hers.

She raised up, placed an arm around my neck, and pushed me gently backward, rolling me onto my back -- then rolled herself on top of me, stared intensely into my eyes, and plunged her little tongue deep into my mouth with what was quickly becoming her skill at kissing.

Suddenly, as we moved together in our embrace, the head of my throbbing cock accidentally poked at her little pussy, and she reacted with a delighted squeal.

"Oooh! Daddy has a rock again!" She rolled off me to sit up and stare at my raging hard-on. She was silent, just looking at what she had never seen before. I was uncomfortable, even embarrassed. It was rock-hard, desperately in need of relief -- but what could I do? My baby girl finally turned her head to look back into my eyes, her expression terribly serious.

"Can I touch it, Daddy?"

I couldn't speak. After a moment, I just nodded my head and shut my eyes. I quivered as I felt my daughter's soft little hand pat gently at my nine-inch erection -- her movements were tentative, curious, as though she were afraid of hurting it. I continued to keep my eyes closed as she gradually lost her timidity about it, getting bolder in her exploration of my member. She squeezed it, pulled on it, stroked it, as though trying to figure out what one was supposed to do with it.

I opened my eyes. My daughter's expression was serious as she looked down at her tiny hands wrapped around my long pole, and involuntarily, my hips lurched for a moment into a fucking motion, thrusting my cock up and down between her hands. I couldn't stand it -- I was going to come just from watching the beauty of her innocent explorations.

So, gently, I slid my cock out of her hands' embrace, and laid her back down beside me. That sweet smile came back to her face as I stroked her hair and her cheeks with my shaking hand; and again, I was filled with that burning glow of love for her.

I kissed her deeply as my left arm reached through her legs to grasp her buttocks, my wrist rubbing gently on her nearly hairless slit. My tongue moved down to kiss and bathe her neck, then the space between her tiny breasts, then on down to her navel.

Her breath came in audible sighs as I finally moved down to the space between her legs. I hesitated, staring at the tiny tuft of black hair at the top of her slit. My own little daughter's pussy. Rachel groaned as my hot breath warmed it, and she raised up, seemingly involuntarily, pressing it toward my mouth.

"Kiss me there, Daddy," she pleaded, "Please!"

Let me burn in hell, I thought, but I cannot resist this! I extended my tongue and touched its tip to the very top of my daughter's little slit. She gasped and bucked in response, and I dove in, gently at first, then uncontrollably, licking and plunging at it with a tongue gone mad.

Rachel's hips bucked and lurched in response to each of my movements, and she whined and whimpered breathlessly, sounding as though she was torn between surprise, shock, and pleasure at this new sensation.

Suddenly, her thighs locked themselves around my head, sweet juices began to flood my face, and her voice because a tiny close-mouthed scream that she tried to repress -- then there was an ear-splitting "Ooohhh!" accompanied by such a squeeze from her little thighs that I thought my head would be crushed.

So she remained for a few seconds -- noiseless, her vice-like grip on my head unmoved -- then she dropped limp and motionless flat on the bed. She had apparently experienced her first orgasm; I didn't know enough to know whether 11-year-old girls were supposed to have orgasms or not.

I looked at my cock. It was oozing with pre-cum. I moved up to again look into my daughter's face. Her mouth was open with a look of surprise.

"Oh, Daddy," she whispered. "Oh, Daddy. What did you do?" I didn't know what to say.

"I just did what people do who love each other," I said, finally. Some moments passed, and Rachel's breathing slowed gradually down to its normal pace -- while my cock, still unrelieved, twitched with the near-pain of its throbbing erection. My daughter finally spoke, in a whisper.

"Do you want me to lick you there, too, Daddy?"

My heart took another life-threatening leap in response to her innocent offer.

"Yes, baby," I said, my voice hoarse. "I'd like that very much." I laid back, no longer able to hear the warnings rising in the back of my mind.

My daughter moved down and gently took my cock in her hand, and it was all I could do not to come right then as I watched her touch the tip of her tongue to its swollen head. It twitched uncontrollably as she cautiously licked all around it, then down the sides of my shaft, then back up to the head again.

Not wanting to speak, I just pressed the head of it up against her lips -- and, as I'd hoped, she parted her lips and let me push it gently in. Only the head and a little more went in, and I pulled slowly out, then back in again, until she realized she could mimic the motion herself.

I was insane with desire as I watched my sweet child bob her head up and down over the end of my cock; it was all I could do not to thrust too hard and choke her; it was when, while she sucked, she looked up to rest her huge, innocent eyes on mine that I lost it.

My penis exploded. Huge spurts of cum erupted, Rachel jerked back her face, startled, cum dripping from her lips, and my cock just kept shooting loads of it everywhere as I fucked crazily at the tiny hands that still gripped my shaft as though for dear life.

It seemed a wildly pleasurable eternity before my hips quit thrusting uncontrollably; and when it all came to rest, I still lay flat on my back, my daughter beside me in my arm, her face looking into mine, her hand still loosely clasping my spent penis. The last thing I remembered before falling asleep was the sweet smile on her lips and her hoarse, whispered, "I love you, Daddy."

How much later was it? We were still in that position when we awoke to the sound of Sarah, Rachel's mother, coming into the room, home from shopping.

"What in the hell is this?" Her voice was not particularly angry, certainly not loud -- just firm.

Oh shit, I thought. Oh shit. I had no idea what might happen next. And there was absolutely nothing I could say. Rachel rolled sleepily out of my embrace to sit up beside me on my right; I propped myself up on my elbows.

For a long time, Sarah said nothing. She sat down on the bed at my left, and -- as though absentmindedly -- began fingering my flaccid penis, looking like she was trying to find something to say.

Finally, she looked at Rachel and spoke.

"Are you ok, baby girl?"

"Yes, Mommy," Rachel said.

"Did Daddy hurt you?"

"Oh, no, Mommy," she said.

"What have you and Daddy been doing?"

"Sarah -- " I interruped.

"You stay out of this," Sarah said, again quietly but firmly. "What," she repeated, "have you and Daddy been doing?"

"I don't know," said Rachel. "Just things. Things that feel good."

Sarah pondered for a while. She was still fiddling with my cock, apparently unaware she was doing it; meantime, Rachel was watching the motions of her mother's hand.

"Did Daddy kiss you?" Sarah said at last.

"Yes, Mommy."

"And you kissed him back?"

"Yes, Mommy."

Sarah looked into Rachel's crotch. "Did Daddy put anything inside you there?" she said.

"No, Mommy," said Rachel. "I mean yes. He put his tongue there. Am I in trouble, Mommy?"

"No, dear," said Sarah. "Did it feel good when Daddy put his tongue there?"

Rachel smiled slightly at the question, and my cock twitched in my wife's hand.

"Yes, Mommy. It felt really good."

Sarah seemed to remember that her hand was on my penis. She looked at it. Then she looked back at Rachel.

"Did you play with this?"

"Yes, Mommy."

Sarah began to pull and stroke at my cock, and, despite my terror in the situation, it began to harden.

"Like this?" Sarah went on.

"Yes, Mommy."

"Did you do anything else with it?"

"Sarah, please!" I said. Rachel looked at me inquisitively -- did she not understand why I was upset? -- then answered her mother.

"Yes, Mommy. I licked it, too."

"Show me," said Sarah.

"Oh shit!" I said. "Come on!"

Rachel looked at me again. God help me, I was hard again; and Sarah, unconsciously squeezing almost painfully on my cock, fell silent -- just staring deeply into her daughter's eyes, her full lips parted, her breath coming unevenly. I wondered seriously whether she was getting off on this in some way... Finally she spoke, her voice trembling.

"Sweetheart," she said, "why don't you let me and Daddy be alone for a while now, ok?"

Rachel -- rather naturally, I thought -- seemed confused by her mother's behavior. What did Mommy want? Was she angry? Was she not angry? Our daughter got off the bed and started for the door.

"Rachel," Sarah said. Rachel stopped and turned back to face her mother. "Don't you want to put on your clothes first?"

Wordlessly, Rachel went into the bathroom for a moment, then emerged wearing the t-shirt she'd borrowed from me earlier, and went again to the door to leave -- but stopped and turned before leaving.

"I love you, Daddy," she said, her eyes big and deep with emotion.

"I love you too, sweetheart," I said, attempting a smile.

Rachel left the room, and Sarah rose from the bed to stand at the foot of it. There, she removed her shoes, jeans, and panties. Then she stepped backward to lean against the dresser, her legs spread, her hand massaging her thick, black bush. She HAD been getting off with the whole scene...

"You," she said, looking at me with something close to anger, but not seemingly quite anger -- and still diddling herself as she spoke. "You are a miserable, cock-sucking child molester." Her voice trembled, and her hips shook, with the last two words. I didn't dare to say anything. She went on.

"And you..." She trembled still further, now seemingly near tears. "And you're going to fuck our baby girl and you're going to forget I exist, and you'll start fucking our other baby, and you, you..."

"Stop it, Sarah," I said, "you're losing it. I love you. What happened with Rachel was an accident. Nobody planned it. I'll always love you, and you know it."

Sarah continued sobbing -- yet continued digging at her pussy all the while, gyrating her hips, apparently somehow getting off in some weird way with this whole scenario. She hastily pulled off her sweater, shook out her thick, black hair, and removed her bra, letting her beautiful, pendulous breasts hang free.

A couple minutes more of just standing there, masturbating and crying at once -- then she got on the bed, straddled me, and lowered herself over my still-throbbing cock.

"Please fuck ME!" she cried. "Please fuck your big girl! She wants Daddy too!" With that, she used a hand to press the head of my cock against her dripping wet cunt lips, then slid herself down on it. In minutes, she was riding it like a demented fiend, her wild black hair and huge breasts flying in all directions.

I was approaching orgasm as I turned my head to the right just in time to see that Rachel had silently reappeared at the door. Her eyes were wide open, and her hand covered her mouth, as she watched what she hadn't expected to see.

Sarah, unaware, rode hard, still sobbing, but noisily approaching orgasm herself; Rachel stood motionless, apparently too captivated to move, her hand still covering her mouth; and I came.

Bucking upward, hard against my wife's downward thrusts, I stared, entranced, into Rachel's wide-eyed face as I shot load after load into her screaming mother's womb.

As it all finally came to rest, Sarah collapsed on top of me, but I continued to look at Rachel. We stared wordlessly into each other's eyes for what seemed an eternity before, at last, Rachel turned -- seemingly reluctantly -- and left.

The look in her eyes and the uncommon desire -- call it lust, I suppose? lust for my own daughter? -- that I continued to feel for her, would remain in the back of my mind, and would trouble me deeply, for days to come...

My wife Sarah lay sound asleep beside me while I -- yet again -- lay wide awake, unable to sleep. And I wished that it had been the usual matters of work that kept me awake; but now, and for the last few days, it had instead been my relationship with our 11-year-old daughter, Rachel, that haunted what should have been my sleeping hours.

Over the past week, we had had two instances -- both accidental, never planned -- of sexual contact. The first had led me to orgasm; the second had led us both to orgasm. With that second occasion, I had crossed over into illegal territory: I had had oral sex, both giving and receiving, with my 11-year-old daughter.

I was terrified. And making it still more complicated, my wife was fully aware of the situation -- indeed, she had caught our daughter and myself sleeping, fully naked, in each other's arms the previous weekend. Her reaction had been completely inscrutable: I still had no idea whether she was turned on by the whole idea, repulsed by it, or wholly undecided. I had seen evidence of all three possibilities.

But the fundamental truth was that I had fallen in love with my youngest daughter. And I felt the sentiment was mutual. At every possible moment since the last time we'd had sex, Rachel and I took any opportunity we could to touch, to fondle, to tease, to kiss -- all the while feeling we were hiding an illicit relationship.

I was in love with my wife. But I was in love with my daughter, too, in a relationship that was following the normal course of a new love. Two relationships going on in the same house. At all levels -- morally, logistically, sexually, you name it -- it was terrifying.

On this night, the frustration was nearly unbearable. It had been days since Rachel and I had "been together" in the way that we wanted to be, and my libido was ablaze with desire for my daughter. As I lay looking at my beautiful wife, sleeping deeply and peacefully beside me, my cock raged with a hard-on brought about by my dreams of her baby girl.

On both of our previous occasions, Rachel had come to me, and things had unfolded in a natural, practically accidental way. I had not yet consciously and willingly initiated sex with my daughter. Nor had I yet completely consummated the relationship -- she had not yet had me inside her.

Around and around it all went in my head until, finally, I could lie still no longer. Naked and wearing a rock-hard, nine-inch erection, I rose quietly from the bed and left the room. It had to happen tonight. I could no longer contain it. The walk down the hallway to my daughter's bedroom seemed like a hundred miles...

Just like her mother, Rachel lay asleep on her back, naked atop her bed, her sweet, white face surrounded by her near-black tangle of long, thick hair. Pale light from the window illuminated her tiny, budding breasts as her chest rose and fell lightly with her breathing, and the slight wisp of black hair at the top of her pubic mound was vividly pronounced against the silky whiteness of her skin.

As gently as I could, I laid down beside her and watched as her eyes eventually flickered open to find me there. Rather than the surprise or initial fear I expected, she reacted only by quietly turning her head to look into my eyes, and by smiling a sweet, irresistible smile.

"Daddy," she whispered. "I'm so glad you're here." She raised up her head just high enough to touch her lips to mine and kiss me, teasing my tongue with her own -- then my lust took over completely.

"I want you, sweet girl," I whispered hoarsely as I laid fully on top of her and delved my tongue deep into her mouth while my hips, already moving with an animal rhythm, humped uncontrollably against her, the base of my raging cock grinding hard into her pubic region.

Rachel groaned luxuriously, spreading her little legs, and clasping her arms around my neck, pulling my kisses deeper and deeper into her mouth before, after a moment, pulling her head free and whispering, "I want you too, Daddy! I want you inside me!"

This was the moment of which I had been the most terrified -- and the moment for which I felt I'd been waiting a lifetime. Moreover, Rachel had apparently been lying here night after night as obsessed with the thought as I had been. Tonight, it seemed, we were both in no mood to waste time. We were ready.

"It's going to hurt like hell, sweetheart," I said quietly. "You know that, don't you?"

"Yes, Daddy," she said. "But I don't care. It has to happen sometime!"

I groaned with desire, wrapping my arms around her and squeezing her whole body close to mine. I was in love with her, in love with the confident resolve with which she was determined to have from me what she wanted.

Caressing her neck with my kisses, I reached down to touch her tiny pussy. With a single finger, I found she was already damp; I slid my finger gently in -- and her hips bucked madly upward as she tried to suppress the shaky "Ohhh..." that came from her lips.

"That feels so good, Daddy," she whispered, panting, as I slowly made love to her with my finger.

"It doesn't hurt?" I said, looking into her eyes for signs of pain or doubt or second thoughts.

"No, Daddy. It just feels good. Don't stop!"

With a care and slowness that was incredibly difficult with the white heat that burned in my groin, I gently added a second finger. Rachel caught her breath, stopped breathing for a moment, then for the first time began bucking around a bit, now humping back against my fingers, eagerly moving herself farther and farther down on them.

She was so tight that I was afraid of hurting her. But she was unbelievably wet, and her whole body had begun moving rhythmically with her hips as she responded pleasurably to my manual stimulation.

She sighed, she kissed me, she groaned, squirmed, and sighed some more as she humped my fingers with greater and greater enthusiasm, seemingly lost in this new pleasure. At last, she pulled herself away from my hand and looked me right in the eye, one sweet white arm wrapped around my neck.

"I'm ready, Daddy," she whispered. "I want it now, ok?"

I moved my face down to trace the outline of her lips with the tip of my tongue. I kept my mouth close to hers as I moved; I wanted to feel -- not just hear -- whatever sound might come from her lips...

Carefully, I rubbed the throbbing head of my cock around in the wetness of her crotch, letting it find the point of entry. As I rested it against her unviolated opening, my daughter sighed, and tried to wiggle herself down against me.

Ever so gently, making sure it was covered in her juices, I pressed the head of my cock on in -- just the head -- and moved it gently in and out as she adjusted to its size.

"Oh Daddy," she whispered, nearly whimpering, "Oh Daddy, don't stop. Keep going. I'm ready for more. Don't stop!"

My heart pounding, partly with passion, partly in terror at the fact that I was actually fucking my 11-year-old daughter for the first time, I let a bit more of my penis penetrate her -- then scared the hell out of myself when I hit, and tore accidentally past, a tough barrier. Rachel reacted with a sharp "Oh!" and became totally still for a moment. I'd broken her hymen.

My penis lay in a grip I'd never experienced before -- it was so tight as to be painful -- and I whispered, "Are you ok, sweet girl?"

Tears welled up in my daughter's eyes as I looked into her face, but her smile was sweet and brave.

"Don't stop, Daddy," she said. "We're making love now. Don't stop."

Moving with a caution that pained my eager, raging cock, I slid slightly out, then back in, then back out, then in a little deeper -- deeper with each slow, successive stroke -- until, by now, nearly half my penis was buried in my daughter's sweet pussy.

Her mouth was open, she breathed heavily through it, and her eyes were wide. But she gradually began rising upward to meet my slow thrusts, seemingly anxious to take more and more as she found herself able.

Finally, my whole length was buried in her, and I stopped in just that position, nearly in pain with the tightness of it.

"Rachel, sweetheart," I whispered, my lips close to hers. "I love you. Are you ok?"

"I'm ok Daddy," she whispered back, her little hands stroking my hair as she spoke. "Make love to me, Daddy. Let's just make love."

Slowly, but feeling more confident now that the worst part was over, I began fucking my daughter, sliding in and out while her feet gripped the backs of my thighs, and her pelvis -- ever more aggressively -- began rising and humping to match my rhythm.

The room swirled around in my eyes as we moved; I looked down to watch my cock plunging in and out of this sweet, tight pussy; I looked up to watch my daughter's face -- now almost smiling -- as her eyes rolled upward and her head tossed from side to side, now and then uttering a surprised "Oh!" or a luxurious "Mmmm..."

She was now fucking me as aggressively as I was fucking her; no longer was I tentatively touching my virgin daughter. We were fucking, and fucking hard. She bucked and moaned, she gripped me with her legs wrapped around my hips, she squeezed me with her arms wrapped tightly around my neck.

"It's happening, Daddy," she suddenly whispered, without in the least interrupting her rhythm. "It's happening again..."

My brain was on fire, only half hearing her as she spoke; my mind had moved completely down to my cock, where I was plunging away madly at my daughter, trying hard to hold back the irresistible urge to come.

"What, sweetheart?" I croaked, kissing and licking her neck as we banged harder and harder together.

"The feeling," she whimpered. "That feeling. It's coming back... it's coming back..." Her voice trailed off into a groan, and I realized my baby girl was about to come.

"Make love to me, sweetheart," I whispered breathlessly. "Make love to me... let it come..."

She humped at me harder and faster, her breath now coming noisily in whimpers and groans -- then suddenly she stopped on the upthrust and screamed, pressing her cunt all the way up at me while some muscle inside her squeezed me so hard I thought I would break.

The moment seemed to last an eternity -- she was dead still, wrapped tightly around me, with that twitching, internal muscle of hers threatening to choke the life out of my cock -- then she let go and fell limply back to the bed, leaving my cock to twitch wildly about in the air.

Her mouth and her eyes were wide open, and she looked at me with a look of deep and utter amazement. "Daddy..." she whispered.

I could hold back no longer. Once I again got safely inside without hurting her, I began stroking for home. She kept whispering, "Daddy, Daddy," and I kept fucking her harder and harder until finally I had to explode.

Forgetting her size at eleven years old, I slammed hard into her with each burning shot of thick cum that forced itself up from my loins, and forgot where I was as the sound of my groans filled the room.

It seemed forever before the animal thrusts of my pelvis finally died out and I came to rest, exhausted and sweaty, on top of my daughter.

"I love you, Daddy," she whispered, her big brown eyes staring up deeply and seriously into mine. "I love you so much."

After a long while of lying there entangled together, I finally slid my spent penis out of her and rolled over to lie beside her. She stroked my face with her tiny hand, and I felt I'd died and gone to heaven.

"I love you too, sweet girl," I whispered, truly meaning it as I gazed into her beautiful face. The smile she returned was enough to melt my heart.

I wanted to sleep there, but knew I dared not. "You know I can't stay, don't you?" I said.

"I know," said my daughter, her smile saddening a bit. "Mommy wouldn't like it."

While I was glad to see her consideration for her mother, it saddened me to see that she was evidently conscious of what could become a rivalry. And it frightened me to think that I myself could become the object of a rivalry between my own wife and my own daughter.

I kissed Rachel one last time, long and deep, then whispered "Good night" to her as I rose to leave the room.

"Good night, Daddy," she said, looking intently into my eyes, placing me, rather than herself, in the position of having to break the gaze and turn to leave.

I stepped out of her room only to nearly trip and fall -- for there was Sarah, seated on the floor in the hallway, just outside the door. How long had she been there? How much had she seen?

"Oh, God," I groaned, pulling Rachel's door nearly closed and standing there for what seemed forever before sitting down opposite my wife. This was an impossible situation. And growing worse.

"There's blood on your cock, you rapist," she said, showing no emotion whatsoever in her voice. Like me, she had not bothered to dress before leaving our bed; we sat there naked together in the dark.

"Mommy?" Rachel suddenly appeared in the hallway, having obviously been startled by her mother's voice so near and so unexpectedly.

"And I'm the one," Sarah went on, as though ignoring Rachel's presence, "who will have to change her sheets tomorrow. Think about that, you bastard."

"I'll do it," Rachel said, at this moment in which I wished she had remained silent. "I'll change my own sheets."

"Come sit down," I said to our daughter, who stood looking at her mother and myself with an air of innocent confusion. "Come sit beside me."

Rachel took her place on the floor with us. I wrapped an arm around her, and the three of us sat there, regarding each other silently in the darkness.

"Rachel," Sarah finally said after an eternity of silence.

"Yes, Mommy," Rachel said.

"Do you love your Daddy?"

"Yes, Mommy. Very much." Rachel squeezed my thigh as she spoke, and I saw a flash of something -- I could not tell what -- cross my wife's dark, beautiful, fiery eyes.

"Well," said Sarah, "So do I. You know that, don't you?"

"Yes, Mommy."

After another very long pause, Sarah spoke again. Her voice was a little distant or remote, as though she were thinking out her thoughts even as she attempted to express them.

"And I wonder where Rebecca fits in with all of this," she said. Rebecca, our 15-year-old, lay sleeping in her bedroom down the hall, apparently still unaware of any of this.

"How do you mean?" I said.

"I don't mean," Sarah said quietly. "Just trying to think."

Both physically and emotionally exhausted, I sat essentially in a stupor, my arm around our daughter, my eyes on my wife's naked, unspeakable beauty, and my mind blank. I was beyond thinking.

"Rachel," Sarah said at last.

"Yes, Mommy."

"We all need to go back to bed. Come sleep with your Daddy and me. We mustn't forget that we all love each other. You and Daddy don't need to hide from me anymore..."

It was early Saturday evening, and my 11-year-old daughter, Rachel, and I sat together on a couch in the den, waiting for Sarah, her mother, to finish dressing.

Sarah and Rachel were on their way to some kind of mother-daughter dinner at the church, and I and our other daughter, Rebecca, 15, were to be left at home to fend for ourselves for the evening.

The situation between myself, Rachel, and Sarah continued to be awkward. Even though my wife seemed to be somewhat accepting of -- or maybe just reluctantly resigned to -- the sexual relationship between myself and our youngest daughter, there were still little hints of tension. And I was still quite uncomfortable, myself, about how to manage these two, separate, loving relationships under the same roof.

Meantime, as we waited on the couch, Rachel -- all dressed up in a dark green dress, and even heels -- sat contentedly beside me, my arm around her shoulders, my hand stroking her hair, until her mother at last appeared.

She, too, was dressed to kill, in a shortish black skirt, black stockings and heels, and a clingy, wine-colored silk blouse. Rachel and I rose from the couch; and I blushed as I realized that the beginnings of an erection were obvious beneath my jeans.

"Like rabbits, you two," said Sarah, not smiling. "Can't keep your hands off each other." Despite her words, she moved close to me and pressed her body against mine -- reaching down to squeeze at my hard-on before touching her lips lightly to mine, being careful of her lipstick. The movement seemed obviously intended for our daughter's benefit, a sign that my wife still claimed ownership.

Standing back, I looked at both of them, not really knowing what to say. They were amazingly alike, the two of them. Long, thick, curly, near-black hair, big, beautiful, electric brown eyes, and full sensuous lips. In a way, it was as though I lived with just one woman as she was at the age of 34 and at the age of 11 -- both incarnations at once -- and I was madly in love with both of them!

"So what are you and Becca doing for dinner?" Sarah said.

"We'll probably go eat out someplace and maybe see a movie," I replied. "I'm not much in the mood to do leftovers."

"Well," Sarah said, "just don't forget to drop those papers by Gabby's place, ok?"

Gabby was Gabriela, Sarah's older sister, who lived across town. Their parents were in the process of re-doing their will, and some papers sent to Sarah for this purpose needed now to move on to her sister.

"I'll do it," I said.

"We should be back before midnight," she said, turning to leave. Rachel followed, but turned just before leaving the room.

"I love you, Daddy," she said, her bright eyes smiling into mine.

"Love you too, sweetheart."

As I heard the front door close, I went looking for Rebecca. She had always been the quieter, more independent of our two children. She was no less beautiful than her mother and sister, but seemed more content than most children to spend time by herself -- enjoying time spent with the rest of us, but in no way dependant on it.

I found her curled up in a chair in her bedroom, reading a book, dressed frumpily in jeans and a t-shirt. Her long, brown hair, a little lighter and straighter than her sister's, nearly hid her face until she looked up at me as I entered the room.

"So," I said, "have you decided where we're going tonight?"

"Hmm," she said, looking thoughtful. "I kind of forgot to think about it at all. Let me think..."

I grinned as I watched the wheels turn in her head until, at last, she spoke again.

"Yes," she said, "I have it. You're going out for a while. Make it a couple of hours. And when you come back, dinner will be ready. I'm cooking tonight."

"Well," I said, smiling, "this'll be a first. I don't think you've ever cooked for me before. Should I trust this?"

She responded with a rather intriguing smile, her dark eyes alive with something indescribable.

"It'll be the best dinner you ever had."

At fifteen, she was quite the little grown-up, and I was proud of her sense of independence and self-confidence. What could I do but trust her?

"Ok," I said. "I'm headed to your Aunt Gabby's for a while. Call me there if you need me, and I'll be back in a couple of hours."

"Take your time," she said, still smiling, and I left.

Things were most odd at Gabriela's. I had always made a point of spending as little time around her as possible -- for the simple reason that I didn't trust myself around her.

Just a year older than Sarah, she looked very much like her sister: the same piercing, brown eyes, the same luxurious raven hair, the same smooth, olive skin. But unlike Sarah, who -- though by no means overweight -- was voluptuous in her build and movement, Gabriela was thinner, straighter, with smaller breasts and a more athletic build and carriage. To look at her was, to me, the tantalizing experience of looking at what you might call a different "version" of my own wife.

She seemed to be wearing only a t-shirt, barely long enough to cover her private parts, when she answered the door. Her hair damp, she had evidently just left the shower. I handed her the envelope as she let me in; she tossed it on the coffee table, motioned me toward a big, leather chair, and sat down on the couch across from me, her legs curled up beneath her.

She seemed a little nervous -- perhaps it was her state of undress? -- at first, but relaxed a bit as conversation ensued. I hadn't seen her in several weeks; we made small talk about my "dinner plans" later in the evening, about the church dinner Rachel and Sarah were attending, and about how Gabby's ex had finally stopped causing problems and begun paying his child support dependably.

Then she turned nervous again as a male voice issued from farther back in the apartment.

"Mom!" It was Julian, her 16-year-old son and only child.

"Yes, baby," she shouted back.

Julian didn't respond. Instead, he just appeared in the entrance to the living room -- buck naked, holding a towel, his hair still wet, and carrying a monstrous erection.

"Oh shit!" he said, not realizing until just this moment that his mother had company. As quickly as he had appeared, he disappeared back down the hallway.

"What the hell was that?" I said, a little taken aback.

"Just a kid with a hard-on," said Gabriela, very nervously attempting a giggle. "Surely you used to get them yourself?"

I grinned at her, concealing my real thoughts. What the hell was going on here? Sure, I had hard-ons at sixteen. But I never followed one, naked, into the same room with my mother! And Gabriela knew, I could tell from the shakiness in her voice, that I knew something was up.

As I rose to leave, a little later, she stopped me at the door. She took my hand and looked deeply into my eyes, her expression somewhere between inquisitive and desperate.

"Don't think wrong things about what you saw, alright? And for God's sake don't say anything to Sarah."

I pulled her toward me, kissed her on the cheek, and said, "Don't worry. It's none of my business anyway, now is it?" I smiled -- a real smile, since I was terribly fond of Gabby regardless of what I might not have known about her -- and left.

As though, I thought to myself as I started the car, I didn't have a few secrets of my own...

I arrived home to find a yellow post-it note on the front door. "Enter quietly. --R.," it said. What the hell did that mean? I wondered. I don't typically enter the house shouting!

Charmed by the girlish handwriting, and wondering what my sweet Rebecca was up to, I just smiled, opened the door quietly and let myself in, and closed the door as quietly as I could behind me.

And there, on the mirror in the foyer, was another yellow square. It said: "Don't look for me. I'm busy preparing your evening. Go take a shower and get dressed for dinner. --R." Hmm... I'd never played follow-the-notes with anyone before. I humored her, and headed for the bedroom and the bath, where I dutifully got in the shower.

When I emerged, I found yet another post-it note -- this time on the mirror over my dresser. "The mood for the evening is formal! Please dress accordingly. --R."

I wasn't sure whether to be annoyed or to find humor in all this. I chose to relax and smile while putting on a white cotton dress shirt, dark dress slacks, and a tie. What was this child up to? Whatever it was, I realized I must be taking it more seriously than I realized when I found myself back in the bathroom, inspecting myself in the mirror to make sure I looked good enough for the occasion!

And there was yet another note -- this time on a full piece of paper slipped under the door -- when I returned to the bedroom. "Dinner is served in the dining room. Please don't let it get cold. --R."

The dining room was typically reserved for special occasions just three or four times a year. The rest of the time, if the family managed to dine together at all, we did so in the kitchen. A tie? The dining room? Was she digging out the good china as well? I just shook my head and headed for the dining room.

And my heart jumped into my throat when I got there. There was my 15-year-old, looking anything other than fifteen. Her long brown hair was tied at the back and wrapped attractively into a kind of bun at the base of her neck. She wore a short, black, sleeveless shift-like dress, black stockings, black heels, and dark, red lipstick. The contrasts between her milky white skin and her dark hair and dress, between her youth and her un-childlike appearance at this moment -- all of it took me by utter surprise as I entered the room. She looked too beautiful.

Only when I recovered my own momentary daze did I realize that she, too, was a little nervous. She stood beside the table; the room was lit only by the candles she'd arranged on it; and her voice shook just a little as she said, so sweetly, "You look very nice, Daddy."

That totally disarmed me -- I looked nice! -- while I stood there transformed by a kind of beauty I'd never seen in her before. I took her hands in mine and looked into her eyes -- and found myself unable to say anything.

"Have a seat, Daddy," she said at last, breaking the awkward silence.

Dinner was something of a blur -- aided, I'm sure, by the wine that my daughter had poured for me. The food was excellent; I had no idea, before then, that Rebecca had taken up cooking. But it was my daughter herself who was the cause of the rising fever on my brain.

Beautiful as she was, there in front of me, and elegant as were her movements -- so suddenly adult did she seem in that moment -- I felt as though I were out on a date with someone whom I desperately wanted to please and impress.

"Daddy," she said at one point, her brown eyes peering deeply into mine, "you have such a dreamy expression on your face! What are you thinking about?"

"Just -- just how beautiful you look tonight." I felt a little stupid, a full-grown adult stumbling over his tongue, made speechless by a mere 15-year-old.

"You seem nervous," she said, with the beginnings of a smile. She rose from her chair and moved to my side, taking the bottle of wine and refilling my glass. My heart rate sped up when she managed, in this movement, to press her body against my arm; her warmth, her closeness, the scent of her perfume, all combined to make me put my arm around her waist and pull her even closer.

She didn't resist. Instead, she bent slightly over to put her arms around my neck and sigh, while my hand wandered up and down her back, straying down to touch -- ever so lightly in my nervousness -- her sweet, round bottom through the tight black fabric of her dress.

Then, realizing what I was doing, I dropped my arm to my side and took a deep breath, trying to maintain control of myself. I couldn't do this. Things were already too far out of hand in this household!

"You seem afraid to touch me, Daddy," Rebecca said, letting go of my neck and resuming her full height beside me, rubbing my shoulder with her hand. She again pressed herself close to me -- Dear God, did she know what she was doing? -- and said, "I'm not going to break, you know."

"I know," I said, rising from my chair, feeling the need to break free of her closeness. "It's just that..." I couldn't find words.

"I think I know," Rebecca said, taking my hands as we stood facing each other. "I think -- " she began, now seemingly herself having difficulty with words -- "I think that maybe you have some feelings that you're not telling me?"

The blood, warmed by the wine, pounded in my head as I looked at my daughter -- her beautiful face, so expressive in this moment; the creamy whiteness of her neck; the top of the sweet crevice between her breasts, just visible thanks to the low curve of her dress -- and I stood motionless, still paralyzed with fear.

"Daddy," she said, pulling me closer and placing my hands on her shoulders, "please touch me. Stop being afraid. Just please touch me."

I took her face in my hands; her eyes looked up deeply into mine, and her lips parted slightly; her hands, still on mine as I held her face, trembled.

"What are we doing?" I whispered.

"We're making love," she whispered back. "Kiss me, Daddy. I want you."

The child was seducing me, and I could no longer resist. I dropped my hands from her face and grabbed her tightly around the waist, pressing my lips to hers, and my groin into her belly. She moaned luxuriously as I delved my tongue into her mouth, and my cock began already to harden as I felt my daughter -- where had she learned this? -- meld herself closer and closer to me and return my kiss with a passion equal to my own.

"Where does this come from, sweetheart?" I said, pulling back a little, still scared out of my wits. "This is scaring the hell out of me! I didn't know you had this in you!"

"Daddy," she said, her voice plaintive, even a little impatient. "It was going to happen sometime. You know that. And you've wanted it. You just didn't know until now that I've wanted it too. Please, Daddy, just make love to me!"

This child, at fifteen, was already a woman, and irresistible. And with those words of hers -- so adult, so perceptive -- my sense of conscience and caution died on the spot and I let go.

I turned her around, her back to me, and held her close with an arm around her waist as I caressed her smooth, white neck with my hand, then let my hand wander down to her breasts. My breath was uneven with excitement as I explored them through her dress -- already the size of apples, they were going to be her mother's large breasts in time. And dear God, I felt her nipples growing erect through the fabric.

"Good, Daddy," she whispered. "It feels good... don't stop." I took my arm from her waist and placed one hand on each of her breasts, fondling them -- no, lewdly groping them! -- while her beautiful bottom pressed backward against what was now my complete erection. In that position, I found myself involuntarily dry-fucking her ass until, suddenly, she wrestled free and turned around to face me.

She moved me backward to the table and reached up to loosen and remove my tie. My cock strained against my pants as she said, "Unzip me, Daddy."

Reaching around her neck and through her hair, I found the zipper of her dress and lowered it, never removing my eyes from the open-lipped look of nearly unnatural -- animal -- passion on my daughter's face. She was without doubt her mother's daughter.

She wriggled around to let the dress fall down to her waist, and loosened her hair to let it fall free, a long brown cascade around her face, across her white shoulders, and between her breasts. Her sweet, pink nipples were fully erect, and she just stood there, looking expressively into my eyes.

"I think you're still afraid of me," she whispered, with a little smile.

She reached forward to begin unbuttoning my shirt as I caressed her face with my hand. My mind wandered in this moment; this was happening in such a surreal way, and in a way so different from what had happened with my younger daughter. Rebecca, almost without asking, was just taking what she wanted -- and I was offering no resistance!

My mind snapped suddenly back to alertness when I realized she had unbuckled my belt and was loosening my fly. In an instant, my cock had sprung free and stood at attention, obscenely huge and erect, in front of my daughter.

Cautiously, as though afraid of breaking it, she took it in both her hands, and began feeling it, fondling it, curiously. Then, seeming sufficiently familiar with it, her eyes moved away from it to look up into my face. As I half-sat, half-leaned against the table, she looked wordlessly into my eyes as she began stroking my penis -- slowly, luxuriously jacking me off.

"Oh Christ, stop it!" I said, after a few moments. "I can't stand it!" I tore off my shirt and struggled out of my shoes and pants -- and pulled my daughter's dress, only barely clinging to her anyway, the rest of the way down -- to find that her stockings were thigh-highs and she wore no panties. My cock twitched visibly as I stood staring stupidly at her nakedness.

"Do you like it, Daddy?" she said, smiling. "I did it just for you."

I grabbed her, nearly violently, and pressed her whole body tightly against my own, my rock-hard penis grinding into her belly. My arm around her waist, I grabbed her hair with my other hand and pulled her lips to mine, burying my tongue in her mouth, and nearly coming with the excitement of how her tongue fought back, dancing lewdly with my own in her mouth.

This child -- so different from her sister, and no matter how seemingly quiet and mature -- was innately a slut, a nymphomaniac, like her mother! No wonder, I now understood, no wonder I felt so different in taking this one of my daughters from how I felt in taking the other!

"Daddy," Rebecca said suddenly, pulling away from our kiss. I looked into her face to find a very serious look in her eyes. "I want this to happen in your bed."

I had no words. I simply swept her up into my arms, carried her to the bed I shared with her mother, and all but threw her on it. Flipping on a lamp, I stood beside the bed, my cock still standing at attention, and stared at my daughter, who lay propped up on her elbows and staring back.

Her little breasts rose and fell with her heavy breathing as I devoured her slowly with my eyes. The naturally full, black bush at the top of her whore-like stockings was, unlike her mother's, neatly trimmed and thinned, easily exposing her slit; and just a hint of her inner lips protruded, glistening with moisture in the dim light of the lamp.

"Make love to me, Daddy," she said, the silence finally broken. "Please. "Make love to me."

As soon as I moved onto the bed, Rebecca seemed to take over completely. She rolled me onto my back, rolled herself on top of me, and began kissing me with a passion the likes of which I had no idea could exist in a 15-year-old.

With both my hands, I grabbed the sweet cheeks of her ass and squeezed hard as the moist opening between her thighs teased the throbbing head of my cock. She moved almost compulsively, seemingly unable to be still. It was as though she was at last devouring something she'd craved for a long, long time.

Suddenly, she jumped up, and moved forward to stand on her knees, straddling my face. Her sweet pussy was just inches from my nose, and I looked past it, up her smooth belly, past her quivering breasts, and into her face.

"Can I do this, Daddy?" she said, as though she needed permission. Where had she learned all this? Had she been reading it in books? Rather than speak, I took hold of her thighs and gently pulled her 15-year-old womanhood down onto my face. My tongue moved up and down her little slit, teasing her, before finally plunging in, making her whole body buck and jerk as I began fucking her with my tongue. Why did I feel no need to be gentle with this child?

Unable to remain upright on her knees, she fell forward to support herself with her hands, her pussy grinding hard into my face, her breath coming in increasingly noisy gasps.

Then she moved yet again, her crotch still glued to my mouth, but her head now facing the other way. Supporting herself with one hand on my thigh, she used her other to take my cock and begin stroking it in earnest -- masturbating me while my tongue plunged away at her wetness.

I rolled us both over on our sides and rather forcibly pressed her head down toward my cock, where she took the hint and -- with no hesitation at all -- eagerly took it into her mouth and began sucking it with abandon, all the while making muffled groans around it in response to the action of my tongue.

Suddenly, she let go of my cock and seemed to stiffen; her thighs, wrapped around my head, tightened horribly and, as I pressed harder into her little clitoris, drawing rough circles around it with my tongue, she began screaming at the top of her lungs. She was coming so hard she was trying to crawl away from it; and I just hung onto her hips and pressed her harder into my face, not letting her get away until, at last, the screams subsided and she grew limp and lay still.

"Are you alright, sweetheart?" I whispered, my voice hoarse with the excitement of my still unrelieved cock.

She didn't respond. Instead, she rose up slowly, rolled me back onto my back, and straddled my thighs, facing me, and taking my aching cock into her hands. It looked huge up against her smooth, white belly as she stroked it slowly, staring into my eyes.

"I've never done this before," she said quietly. "Is it going to hurt?"

"Probably," I said, my hips beginning to move in response to her stroking, my cock wanting to explode and trying hard not to.

"I want to do it this way," she said, raising herself up and placing the head of my penis up against her wet opening.

"Please be careful," I said. "Please don't hurt yourself."

The sensation, for me, was somewhere between excruciating and exquisite as I watched my daughter trying ever so slowly to slide herself down onto my nine-inch cock, and watched the expressions on her face while she did so -- wide-eyed pain for a moment, open-mouthed pleasure the next...

Once the head was fully in, she stopped there, seeming relieved that she'd gotten that far, then smiling at me as she rode gently up and down on just the head of it. Now comfortable with this much, she attempted more. A frown wrinkled her forehead as she eased on down another half-inch, then another, until she was about half-way. From there, then, she rode slowly up and down, her own moisture and gradual relaxation making this much comfortable too.

"It's so big," she whispered, looking at it rather than me, still riding it slowly, carefully.

"It feels good, sweetheart," I said, enjoying the calm look on my daughter's face, while at the same time working hard to contain my impatient cock, which was dying to start moving.

Finally, she decided to take the rest of it. Up and down, and down farther each time, and interrupted now and then with a pained little groan, Rebecca at last reached bottom -- and let go a long, sighed, "Mmmm" when she got there.

She sat there, quite still, for a long moment.

"I felt that," she said, smiling, when my cock twitched involuntarily inside her.

Then she raised up -- all the way up -- and slid all the way back down again. And did it one more time. Then she took me a little by suprise by what she said.

"I have you now," she said.

"Hm?" I said, by now gritting my teeth to keep from coming just from the tightness of her 15-year-old pussy.

"I have you now, Daddy," she said again. "Now you're mine." And with that, and with no warning, she started riding my cock like there was no tomorrow. Her dark eyes flashed wild madness as she humped up and down, grunting noisily -- "shamelessly" was the word that came to my mind -- and at last my own hips let go and began slamming back into her downward thrusts.

Her breasts jiggled up and down as she rode harder and faster; I watched my cock -- covered, to my alarm, with blood -- plunge in and out as she became gradually noisier; and my brain became fevered as her features merged, in my mind, with those of her mother, and she began shouting now, in words I didn't expect, "Fuck me, Daddy! Fuck me!"

No longer content to lie back, I rose up to stand on my knees as she continued to fuck me without interruption, her arms wrapped around my neck, her pussy impaled on my cock -- then I let her fall to the bed on her back, with me, now, doing the fucking.

Her eyes grew wilder, and her screams louder; I pounded her harder and harder as she bucked and squirmed and humped hungrily around on my cock; the room went around in circles as I lost track of where I was or who I was fucking; and finally my cock blew up, shooting gallons of cum deep inside my daughter while she screamed sharply in response to each of my orgasmic thrusts.

But just as I started to come to rest, she screamed at the top of her lungs, a look of wide-eyed anger in her face: "Don't stop! For God's sake don't stop! Fuck me, God damn it!"

With what little I had left in me, I started moving again while my daughter wrapped her legs around my waist and nearly squeezed me to death, approaching another orgasm. With no rhythm left, I just tore into her, thrusting as hard as I could, when I could, until at last she let loose with a piercing scream that ended only an eternity later when she had simply run out of breath and she fell, loosely and limply, back to the bed, quiet at last.

The bed was covered in blood, Rebecca's whole pubic area was covered in blood, and so was mine. She lay still, her eyes closed, her mouth open, only her chest moving as she breathed heavily. I took her head in my arm, and held it close to my chest. I, too, breathed heavily, exhausted. Rebecca, her eyes still closed, put an arm around my neck.

In silence, my mind wandered aimlessly, confused. Now I had violated both of my children. And how different they were from each other! With one, I felt the tenderest, most innocent kind of love. And with the other? With Rebecca? I didn't know. It wasn't love. It was pure sex. Just pure sex with a daughter who'd chosen to have her way with me.

I felt sleep coming, and I had some vague kind of nightmare about Sarah and Rachel coming home to a post-it note on the front door, to a trail of clothes in the dining room and hallway, and to a pool of blood in the bedroom.

Rebecca said something that I didn't hear.

"What, sweetheart?" I said. "My mind was a thousand miles away."

"She said it would be good. And she was right."

"Huh?"

"Making love to you," said my daughter. "She said it would be good, and it was."

"She? Who?"

"Rachel."

It must have been between two and three in the morning when my wife, Sarah, and I came home to a near-dark house on Saturday night. We'd been out, just the two of us, looking for some other-than-ordinary fun.

It was our habit, once in a great while, to go out drinking and dancing, and to look for an extra partner to share between us at a hotel. We'd done a lot of drinking and dancing this time, but had found no one interesting enough to consider picking up.

So now, here it was the middle of the night, I was dangerously horny and unrelieved, while she was so drunk as to be nearly unconscious on her feet.

On stumbling into the living room, while trying as well to hold Sarah up, I found my oldest daughter, Rebecca, 15, and Andrea, our 17-year-old sitter, slouched beside each other on the sofa, their feet up on the coffee table, staring sleepily into the TV set.

"Becca, sweetheart," I said quietly, "help me get your mother to bed. Be right back, Andrea," I added, trying to smile through my exhaustion and unrequited horniness.

Rebecca helped me walk Sarah to the bedroom, where I laid her down on her side of the bed and switched on a bedside lamp. Back here in the familiar light of home, my wife looked almost shamefully like a slut, dressed as she was in the shortest possible of skirts, black thigh-high stockings, painfully high heels, and a clingy, vivid blue blouse, without a bra, unbuttoned nearly to her waist. Horny as I was, I was of a good mind to fuck her blind in her sleep!

"Help her to get undressed and comfortable, would you?" I said to Rebecca. "I'll go see Andrea out." I left my daughter there, sitting sleepily on the edge of the bed, and headed back out to the living room.

Andrea was a pretty child -- very thin, almost flat-chested, with beautiful blue eyes and long, straight blond hair. She, too, looked sleepy as I found her standing and gathering her things, preparing to leave.

"Are you awake enough to drive?" I said, catching myself looking at her tight blue jeans, and the nipples that protruded against the white cotton of her t-shirt, rather than her eyes, as I should have while speaking.

"Yes, Mr. Braun," she said quietly, smiling.

"Call me Frank," I said, for the hundredth time in the two years in which we'd made her a frequent guest in our home. "That 'Mr' stuff makes me feel old."

"Ok," she said " -- Frank." My eyes watched her gorgeous little bottom wiggle in the tight jeans as I followed her to the door, where she turned to face me before opening it to leave.

"Uh, Frank," she said, with some obvious hesitation -- then stopped. A question of some kind of importance to her was clearly written on her face, but she couldn't seem to express it.

"Let it out," I said, smiling. "What is it?"

She paused, then said, "Nothing. Nevermind."

But her eyes remained glued to mine for a very long moment before she finally turned, opened the door, and stepped out onto the porch. What was she thinking, or trying to say?

She just smiled in an odd sort of way as she started her car and backed out of the driveway; and it wasn't until I was back inside with the door closed that I thought: Dear God, what if she knows things? Much, much had gone on in this house in the last few weeks which, if known by the wrong people, could very well land me in jail!

Perhaps it was for the best that my mind was so wrecked by exhaustion and my crotch on fire with desire. Thanks to that, the worry was only momentary, and I moved back down the hallway toward the bedroom.

And I stopped dead in my tracks on just stepping through the door. Our daughter had taken an unexpected approach to undressing her mother. Sarah's skirt and shoes were gone, her blouse was completely open and practically off, leaving only her tiny black thong bikini and the stockings.

She was completely unconscious, still on her back, and Rebecca lay beside her, facing me, propped up on one elbow, and was lazily -- luxuriously, even -- rolling one of her mother's stockings down her thigh, removing it slowly and obviously enjoying herself.

"What are you doing?" I stuttered from the doorway.

"Helping Mom get undressed," she said quietly, her eyes meeting mine. Her gaze was teasing, and her tongue grazed her lips for an instant -- causing an involuntary stir in my already hungry cock.

I was paralyzed for a moment by the erotic beauty of the picture. My wife, practically naked, her voluptuous form and wild black hair spread unconscious and completely vulnerable across the bed; and my daughter, equally beautiful, bending over her, undressing her slowly, and boring holes in my eyes with the fire that emanated from her own. What the hell was going on here!

"I've never seen her naked before," Rebecca said, jogging me from my paralysis. "She's beautiful, isn't she?"

"I -- " I had a hard time finding my words. "I had thought I'd be alone with your mother tonight, sweetheart."

Rebecca left her mother's stocking rolled half down, and sat up in the middle of the bed. She wore one of my own white cotton dress shirts, and her face, surrounded by her long, brown hair, was radiant as she smiled and spoke softly.

"But she's asleep," she said. "I'm sure I'd be much more fun." My heart leapt a little as she began slowly to unbutton the shirt, and I felt my cock beginning to come to life. One button at a time, ever so slowly, the shirt was completely unbuttoned before I found my voice again.

"Not in here," I said. "Let's go to the other room."

My daughter looked at me wordlessly, right in the eyes, as she removed the shirt altogether. She wore nothing else beneath it. And rather than responding to me, she laid back down on her side, propped up again on an elbow, and caressed her sleeping mother's smooth, olive neck. Her own, nicely developing breasts pressed close to one of my wife's rather large ones.

"No," she said quietly, still looking right into my eyes. "I want to do it here."

A hot, red flush of something between anger and sorrow flew over me for a moment -- this was an absurd situation! My daughter, just 15, was behaving for all the world like a wanton, nymphomaniacal slut; and her mother, in so many ways a true, proven slut, was naked and passed out drunk beside her! What had gone wrong with this family?

I longed, in that moment, for Rachel, my 11-year-old, and for the pure, innocent love that she and I shared together. Would we ever bring this situation around to one of healthy, happy love among all of us? Or would I live forever torn between sweet innocence and cheap, vulgar passion under the same roof?

But by now all the blood had left my brain and moved to lower regions; the flush was in my crotch, where -- moving as lewdly as my daughter -- I unabashedly began stroking my hardening cock through my pants.

Rebecca was staring at me, tauntingly, while lazily running her hands up and down her mother's unconscious nakedness.

"Leave her alone," I said. "She's asleep." And I got onto the other side of the bed, pulled her away from Sarah, and pressed a long, hungry kiss onto her mouth, veritably attacking her tongue with my own.

My cock was fully erect, already, as my daughter tore at my clothes, her passion equal to my own. And once I was free of my clothes, her whole body writhed and squirmed almost violently beneath me as I pressed my whole weight on top of her, digging out the depths of her mouth with my tongue.

Suddenly, almost angrily, she pulled free of my kiss and whispered, hoarsely, "In me!"

"What?" I groaned, consumed with passion.

"In me, Daddy! I want you in me! Now!"

She had spread her legs lewdly open, and her crotch seemed to beg noisily on its own. I raised up and carefully positioned the swollen head of my cock at her entrance to find that she was already wet -- there would be no need for slow caution...

I watched her beautiful face as I sank my cock into her still-tight womanhood: her eyes widened and her mouth opened with a tiny, breathy gasp of pain, then she closed her eyes and smiled slightly as I reached bottom and began stroking, all the way out, all the way in, over and over.

I felt as though my cock were twice its nine inches as I watched my daughter's eyes darting wildly about, and her tongue licking lewdly at her lips, as I fucked her; her pink nipples were erect as her breasts heaved and bounced with each of my thrusts.

And I felt I would last forever; though I was hard as a rock, I had had so much to drink that it could be, if I wished, a very long time before I came.

I lowered my upper body down onto my daughter's, burying my face in her neck and shoulder, kissing and licking at her smooth, child-like skin, while wrapping her tightly in my arms and pounding away at her pussy.

Her whispered gasps became groans, and then noisy grunts and whimpers of pleasure, as she neared coming -- and then, almost without warning, she wrapped her legs around my waist, squeezed hard, and screamed at the top of her lungs. "Daddy! Oh Daddy! Yes! Fuck me! Fuck me like that!"

I pounded as hard and deep as I could, and her whole body shuddered and shook as she came with a blood-curdling scream. And it was only when she at last lay limp and still that I remembered her mother, beside us -- and looked to find that, in response to the noise, she had simply rolled over on her side, still drunkenly asleep, her back toward us.

"Get up, Daddy," Rebecca said suddenly, seeming impatient. "Get up." I carefully withdrew my still-throbbing cock and rolled to my side, looking into her face with a question on mine.

"Lie on your back," she said. I did, and she straddled my thighs, facing me, and took my rigid penis in her hands. I watched as she stroked it, slowly, seeming to enjoy how the foreskin rolled up and down its length. Then she spread my legs and knelt between them, her lips so close to the head of my cock that I could feel her breath, her beautiful brown eyes staring straight into mine.

"I've been dying to do this," she said, her voice low and sultry. "All the way. I want to take you like this all the way." My cock twitched in her hands as she touched her tongue to its tip, teasingly flicking around it before at last closing her mouth around its head.

I groaned as I watched her lower her head over my cock, moving up and down slowly, taking a little more in with each downward stroke. Her dainty hand clasped its base tightly, and my hips at last began thrusting upward into her throat involuntarily as I found myself nearing orgasm.

I wanted this to last forever -- there is no describing the utterly exquisite eroticism of watching my own 15-year-old daughter, her mouth stretched almost painfully around my too-thick cock, her lips sloppy with saliva, her nostrils flared, and her eyes wide open and staring wildly into my own, as she hungrily fucked me with her mouth.

It was with almost animal brutality that my pelvis wrestled control from my mind, and began pounding my pole deeper and harder into my daughter's mouth. Sweet Rebecca kept her grip firm on my cock, and, though already gagging a little, kept her mouth tightly sealed around me, meeting my upward thrusts with her downward strokes, seemingly determined to pull this off successfully.

And I could contain it no longer. Starting at the base of my spine, the burning spasms came, and my loins, quivering and shaking, began forcing the great loads of cum upward and upward until, at last, in huge, successive spurts, I began filling my daughter's mouth with the thick, white liquid.

She gagged and gurgled, tears came to her wide-open eyes, but she would not release her tight lips from my cock -- swallowing, difficult as it was, all she could, with the remainder oozing out to coat her lips and drip down her chin -- as I bucked and pounded uncontrollably.

Only when I had come completely to rest, limp and motionless, lying flat on my back and breathing heavily, did she let go. She sat up on the bed, looking sweetly into my eyes, and attempted a smile. There was something obscenely angelic about her face in that moment; her long brown hair was stuck to the perspiration on her white forehead and cheeks; her nostrils flared as she began to catch her breath; and my cum dripped from her lips as her mouth hung open with exhaustion.

I, too, was exhausted; all I could do was lie there, speechless, and stare absently at my daughter as her breasts heaved with her labored breathing.

And I must have fallen asleep for a moment; for she was no longer there when next my eyes came open. Instead, I found her beside me, slowly peeling her sleeping mother's black thong bikini down her hips and thighs, pulling them off.

I knew not what was going on, but in my exhausted daze I could only lie there and watch, barely half-conscious. Rebecca had rolled Sarah onto her back, and now the panties were gone, leaving only the black stockings.

Our daughter positioned herself on the bed between her mother's thighs, and looked dreamily upward into her sleeping face. In that spot she remained for a long while before, at last -- seeming as though she'd come to a difficult decision -- she moved forward to touch her tongue to her mother's hairy slit.

Was I dreaming? I knew what I was seeing -- and was not happy about it at all -- but I found myself unable to move or to speak; perhaps it was the alcohol and the exhaustion?

My daughter began cautiously to lick at her mother's womanhood, poking here with the tip of her tongue, licking there with the entirety of it, becoming gradually more comfortable with what she was doing.

It was only when Sarah began, in her sleep, to react to Rebecca's tongue that I finally began to return slowly to my senses. My wife started groaning, ever so lightly, and rolling her pelvis around in response to our daughter's explorations; she grew gradually louder in her moans and little gasps, and Rebecca -- evidently emboldened by this -- became gradually more aggressive as she ate lustfully at her mother's pussy.

And only when it was too late did I wake up fully and realize that this couldn't be. Suddenly, Sarah was awakened by the pleasurable sensations between her thighs, opened her eyes, and managed to gradually look down, focus, and realize what was happening.

"Oh my God!" she screamed, suddenly fully awake and struggling to move away from Rebecca's face. "No! Oh no!"

And in a flash, my eyes moved from the horror on Sarah's face to the indescribable look of anger on Rebecca's face -- to the bedroom door, where Rachel had suddenly appeared, her expression lying somewhere between innocent curiosity and pain...

"It's just something I'm going to have to learn to manage, learn to live with," said Sarah, my wife, her voice quiet and pensive.

It was late at night. Our daughters, Rachel, 11, and Rebecca, 15, had long since gone to bed; and we sat alone beside each other on the couch in the den, dressed only in t-shirts, snuggling, feeling truly close again for the first time in several days.

We had finally managed, this evening, to calmly and openly discuss the relationships -- sexual relationships -- that had recently evolved between myself and our youngest daughter, and then between myself and our oldest. I had not sought out these relationships; they had just evolved in a more or less natural way, and Sarah -- quite understandably -- though not entirely disapproving, was very uncomfortable with the situation. And so was I. I loved my wife, and had no desire to hurt her.

"It's just so easy to feel left out," she said, and I completely understood. Especially in my relationship with Rachel, there had been up to now a feeling of "keeping this away from Mommy," which had made both me and my daughter feel as though we were hiding or even "cheating" behind Sarah's back -- even though, of course, Sarah knew what was going on.

"I suppose," Sarah went on, "it was unavoidable. That I'd feel left out, I mean. It was natural that if the girls wanted more than the 'usual' amount of affection, they'd go to their Daddy, not their Mommy, to get it."

"That's probably the healthiest way to look at it," I said. "You weren't being left out. You just haven't yet become involved in whatever's going on."

"And of course I don't know how to get involved -- nor even know whether I want to be. This is just something that's happened and, even though maybe nobody's intentionally leaving me out of it, the fact is that I'm not a part of it."

I was pleased that my wife was being as calm and rational as she was with the situation. I felt that now, perhaps, we were about to reach a point where the tension that had permeated our household for weeks might actually, finally, dissolve.

"You very nearly were a part of it the other night," I said, reminding her of our oldest daughter's rather surprising attempt to involve her mother in what had been rather a bizarre session between Rebecca and myself. "But..."

"I know," Sarah interrupted. "But it scared the hell out of me. Caught me totally off guard."

"Yes," I said, "and I'm not sure it was a particularly healthy thing just then anyway. You were drunk, and she was being weird, really weird. In fact, she had me pretty scared myself that night."

"I think," she said, "that I probably just need to relax, accept it, and become part of it if -- and I guess only if -- it evolves naturally. God knows I certainly can't stop or undo what's already happened."

I looked fully into her face as she spoke, reliving for the millionth time the thrill my wife's beauty had never ceased to produce for me. Her gentle, full-lipped smile, the magic and vitality in her huge brown eyes, and the wild mane of long, curly, near-black hair that framed her face still affected me as though I had only just today fallen in love with her for the very first time.

"Just kiss me," I said, drawing her face close to mine, my lips parted, awaiting the sweet touch of hers. She snuggled closer as I wrapped my arms around her, and she kissed me with a passion I had not felt from her in seemingly a long time. And as usual, in response to her practiced tongue greeting mine, my cock, lying lazily across my thigh, began to stir and twitch and begin its journey to erection...

But then a noise nearby startled us. One of the girls had stumbled into the kitchen, apparently looking for a late-night snack. Sarah giggled and drew back slightly, and I wrestled with the bottom of my t-shirt, trying to cover the writhing, nine-inch snake beneath my belly.

"Who goes there?" said Sarah, faking a deep, threatening tone of voice tempered by a mischievous smile that the kitchen intruder couldn't see.

In a moment, Rachel, our youngest, came wandering sleepily into the room, also wearing a t-shirt. I was starting to think that t-shirts had become the family uniform.

"Hi Mommy," she said, rubbing her eyes. "Hi, Daddy." I watched Sarah smile lovingly at our daughter.

"What are you doing up?" she said. "Get hungry?"

"No," Rachel said, "Not really. Just woke up, couldn't go back to sleep."

"Well," said Sarah, "come sit with us, then. We can't sleep either."

Rachel climbed onto the couch and sat in her mother's lap, snuggling in comfortably with her back pressed against Sarah's breasts, her head laid luxuriously against her shoulder.

"I saw Daddy kissing you," she said, as soon as she became comfortable and still. She looked up into Sarah's face as she spoke, her big brown eyes practically a mirror image of her mother's eyes.

Sarah stroked the smooth white skin of our daughter's face and said, smiling, "So you're spying on us, are you?"

"No, Mommy," Rachel replied. "I just saw you. It was an accident, I promise."

"It's alright, sweetheart," Sarah said. "Daddy is a good kisser, isn't he?"

Rachel just smiled, in response, saying nothing, and turned her head to look at me. The smile warmed me throughout, and doubly so when I saw that Sarah, too, was smiling at me gently -- with no jealousy at all in her expression.

I leaned over to take my wife's face in my hand and kiss her again. Sarah's kiss was warm, deep, and loving. But after a moment, she pulled back a little and said, quietly, "I think poor Rachel wants her kiss, too."

Rachel, snuggled between us, smiled, closed her eyes, and puckered her lips. I looked first into Sarah's eyes, and she, smiling, said "She loves you too."

With that reassurance, I pressed my mouth gently to our daughter's lips, touching my tongue to them as they parted to let it into her mouth, where her tongue rolled lazily around in a loving dance with my own.

This moment was, for me, a sensation like none other I had ever experienced. My daughter kissed me deeply, lovingly, while my wife, at last apparently resigned to this relationship, ever so gently stroked the child's hair, which was as long and black and thick as her own.

My cock, against my will, had popped obscenely out again from beneath my t-shirt, and was rapidly growing in plain view to its full, happy size. My right arm was extended around my wife's shoulders, my left hand was occupied with the smooth skin of my daughter's face, so it was with desperate motions of my hips that I tried, without success, to hide my twitching penis.

But there was no use, for Rachel, still locked to my lips with a growingly passionate kiss, took hold of my hard-on with her tiny hand, and began gently stroking it. I groaned a little, and tried for a moment to pull away -- I did not want to risk going further than Sarah might be comfortable going -- but then my wife placed her hand over our daughter's hand, and it was suddenly both their hands that slowly stroked my throbbing cock.

I drew back from Rachel's sweet kiss, rolled back to my original, straight position on the couch, spread out my arms across its back, and sighed, involuntarily, "Oh Jesus," as my two beautiful lovers, the younger in the older's lap, gently manipulated my stiffening manhood.

"Rachel," Sarah whispered at last. "Make love to your Daddy. I think he's been missing you."

Both of them let go of my penis, and Rachel looked sweetly into her mother's face.

"Are you sure, Mommy?" she said, innocent affection radiating from her eyes.

"Yes, sweetheart," said Sarah, quietly, a gentle smile in her eyes. "I want us all to be happy." She ran her hands once more through our daughter's hair, then -- to my surprise -- reached down to pull Rachel's t-shirt up, over her head, and off, revealing the entirety of her milky white nudity.

"You're beautiful, sweet child," Sarah continued. "Make Daddy happy, and I'll just sit here beside you." Rachel smiled sweetly and pressed her cheek close against her mother's before slowly rolling out of Sarah's lap and into mine, facing me, my now fully erect cock standing straight up against her smooth white belly.

I pulled her close to me, clasping her little bottom with both hands, pressing her belly against my rock-hard pole, and lavishing her neck and shoulders with my kisses while my hands began to wander luxuriously around across the sweet, soft skin of her back and arms, and my pelvis began its slow, rhythmic, involuntary grind.

Beside me, Sarah pulled off her t-shirt to become as naked as our daughter; she slumped comfortably deeper into the sofa, pressing herself as close as she could into my side. With her left hand, she clasped my right thigh as though to steady herself while, with her right, she began slowly, almost lazily, to masturbate.

Rachel seemed almost eager in her movements, pressing hard kisses to my lips, wriggling around in response to the motions of my hands, and gradually moving upward until the throbbing head of my penis touched her already moist opening.

"I want you inside me, Daddy," she whispered, her beautiful eyes staring deep into mine, her breath warm on my face. "Inside, Daddy, I want you inside!"

Carefully, I held her hips to prevent her moving too quickly, and began gently poking the head of my cock at her tiny opening; it had been so long since I'd been inside my daughter I was afraid it would be, again, like the very first time.

Just fractions of an inch at a time, it slid gently in; and with each new inch, Rachel winced, smiled, and sighed nervously. It was, still, a terribly large cock for so small a girl. And with each of her little sighs came a muted gasp from her mother, whose eyes were fixed on our daughter's pussy, with its tiny tuft of black hair at the top, as it slid ever farther down my shaft. Sarah was getting off with this; her lips were parted, her breathing uneven, and her hand dug ever more hungrily into her crotch as she pleasured herself beside us.

At last, Rachel reached bottom, and sat motionless for a moment, the entirety of my cock buried deep inside her.

"Does it feel good, sweetheart?" I said, admiring the look of sheer, quiet pleasure on her radiant face.

"Yes Daddy," she said. "It feels so good. I just want to stay here forever." I turned to look at Sarah, whose dark, flashing eyes still stared fixedly at our daughter.

"She is beautiful, isn't she?" I said to my wife.

"My God," Sarah whispered hoarsely, "my God yes."

My cock twitched against my will inside my daughter as she smiled sweetly at her mother's response. Then Sarah spoke again.

"Rachel, sweetheart," she said, her voice still uneven with nervousness, "can Mommy kiss you? Do you mind?"

My heart leapt at this question. Was Sarah finally going to entirely relax and accept the situation? And how would Rachel feel about this?

Our daughter's smile turned briefly into a look of curious confusion, then as quickly became a smile again.

"Yes, Mommy," she said. "I'd like that."

Sarah sat up, moved forward, wrapped her arm around Rachel's neck, and drew our daughter's lips to her own. I watched as Sarah's tongue darted hungrily into Rachel's mouth -- and as Rachel quickly adjusted to the movements of her mother's voluptuous lips and began returning the long, passionate kiss.

By now, I could no longer be still; I began slow thrusts with my cock into our daughter's warmth, fighting off the sting of imminent orgasm, trying to make it last as I watched my wife and daughter kissing curiously, hungrily, at each other.

I took Rachel's right hand and cupped it around one of her mother's huge, pendulous breasts, and watched her eyes grow large as she fondled a woman's breast for the first time.

Her mother's lips still locked to her own, Rachel managed to utter a pleasurably surprised "Mmmm," in response to this new experience, and I, involuntarily, began fucking her harder, finding it more and more difficult to contain my own excitement. Without interrupting my rhythm, I tore off my t-shirt and tossed it aside, drew a deep breath and leaned backward to better my view of this unspeakably erotic moment.

Then suddenly, Sarah drew back from our daughter's lips, and lavished her tongue lovingly down Rachel's neck, to the space between her barely-formed breasts, down farther to her milky white belly -- then veritably attacked the top of her little slit with her tongue.

"Oh!" gasped Rachel noisily, as her mother's tongue dug and poked at her clitoral hood. Sarah's great mass of hair covered my belly as her tongue flicked frantically around, slipping now and then to graze my cock as it pounded in and out of our daughter's warmth.

Rachel's eyes grew huge with curious pleasure; she grasped her mother's hair as though for stability, and began suddenly to buck and hump desperately on my cock -- her mother's tongue following her every motion -- and now she was screaming and squealing involuntarily as her hair flew in all directions with what was becoming her violently pleasurable ride to Nirvana...

It was with a nearly pained scream that she at last stopped dead on my cock -- on the upstroke, with only its head remaining inside her -- and twitched and bucked violently as Sarah's tongue brought her finally to a screaming orgasm.

For what seemed an eternity, Rachel remained perched, motionless, at the top of my throbbing penis, while her mother's head fell back to rest on my chest, panting -- in this state of near motionlessness everything remained until, with no warning, Rachel relaxed and rode my pole all the way back down again, hitting bottom.

This was all it took to set me uncontrollably back into motion. Like a wild man, I began fucking my daughter nearly violently, thrusting and banging into her as hard as I could, the juices now welling up inside me, ready to erupt.

Rachel bravely rode it out, while her mother, head still on my belly, knees now on the floor, watched while masturbating furiously -- and then, just as I could hold it no longer and was about to explode, I came out too far, missed trying to get back in, and Rachel toppled to the floor.

"Oh my God!" I shouted, as my cum boiled up, ready to fly, my cock twitching wildly in the air. Rachel, now on her knees, and her mother beside her, both at the same time grabbed reflexively for my cock; and both of them, at the same time, began stroking it furiously as the cum, in huge streams, flew madly into the air to paint their faces and hair with long, glistening strings of thick white liquid.

With what looked like a frantic motion, Sarah grabbed our daughter's hair and pushed her face to my cock, and Rachel, seeming to instinctively know what to do, took it eagerly into her mouth as I groaned with the last spasms of my orgasm.

Sarah fell back to lean against the couch, watching our daughter suckle my fading cock, and finally brought herself off with her hand, moaning contentedly as she at last came to satisfied rest.

Once my spasmic motions had ceased, Rachel raised her head, the remains of my cum coating her smile, and I will never forget the look in her eyes at that moment: she looked at both me and her mother, and seemed, without words, to be asking whether she had made us both happy.

Sarah reached out and pulled Rachel to her, enfolding her in her arms; and I slid down to sit on the floor and embrace them both.

"I love you, Daddy," said Rachel, her hand massaging my arm as it hung draped across her shoulder. "And you, too, Mommy. I love you, too."

I squeezed Sarah closer to me and kissed the top of her head.

"Does this mean we're all happy now?" I said quietly, smiling. Sarah turned her head to look up at me and she, too, smiled gently.

"Yes," she said. "I think we're all happy now."

The voice from the shadow in the corner took all three of us by surprise. It was Rebecca, our 15-year-old.

"Until Daddy fucks me again," she said, her voice angry, bitter. "And he'll never want either of you again."