FOREWORD

First this is a story heavy, well, story. If you want less story and more fap, I just saved you some time.

I recently posted my true story of why and how I had incest with my aunt. In unpacking that memory and all that I did, I see it had more of a profound effect on my “morality” (ethics really, until I grew a conscience many years later) and it helps me understand why incest is such a tantalizing subject, as aberrant as it is.

OBLIGATORY SELF ANALYSIS – Recreating or conflating past lovers into characters along with smelting together my acts of sexual thrills and deviancy brings memories of them and the sensations back. That and nearly 70 years of life, including 40 years of marriage with three decades of amazing monogamy and sexual adventures, gives my imagination enough to fill in the gaps with what is possible and how it would feel. I guess retirement’s a problem. As a husband, father, rescuer and Christian these things remained in the past and part of a different life. Now without the constant focus, retirement compounded by nCov2019’s churches’ closing, the only thing left is caring for the house and my wife. So there’s plenty of time to just remember. A dark spot in my heart I believed gone, has opened up and flooded me with perverse remembrances and resulting fantasies. “Idle hands..” and all that.

Equipped with all of that and an overwhelming desire to put my darkest most depraved fantasies down, I started writing again with the prequel to this story “My Daughter, My Wife”. There, the father who had been an honorable and ethical man that had been totally committed to his wife and together they raised a brilliant, beautiful and successful daughter. The daughter had been away for a long time, in the care of his divorced, empty nester sister. A sister that gave her virginity to him many years ago, blurring the line between right and wrong. This daughter also had an undiagnosed and unresolved Electra complex. Her desires were stoked as she came of age and, unknown to the girl’s father, instilled a libertine world view. We left the father and his petite daughter with him cradling her aching and naked body in his naked lap as the steamy waters cleansed them of the remnants from their unnatural union.

I won’t insult the reader’s intelligence with a protracted boilerplate disclaimer so I’ll just say, “Don’t.”

INTRODUCTION

We had sat for a long time, her in my lap while I held her and the steam swirled about us. I was very relaxed and she was dozing only to come awake with a hiss, whimper or yelp whenever her battered cunt slipped or got pressed by her shifting weight. Talk about conflicted, the daddy in me felt pangs of hurt and concern over her suffering. The incestuous deviant in me smiled inwardly at her pain, a penance for what she wanted to happen. But I also felt conflicting emotions. I still felt incredible affection for my daughter while I had started to see her as a sexual being. But there was something else. A longing to possess her, love her and become one with her. I silently mouthed, “Oh Moira, please forgive me.”

We’d dried but she refused a robe or pajamas and it hurt to walk. So I picked her up and though she protested in pain, she clung to my neck and pressed her face into my chest. I froze as I turned to leave and saw the obscene and perverted sight of a large naked father holding his small ravished daughter. It was the image of her swollen pudenda that really gave me pause. The redness of her vulva against the whiteness of her mons and the protrusion of her red, swollen and raw labia caused my hanging cock to jump. I literally licked my lips as my focus turned on the shiny coating of her battered pussy. As much washing and cleaning as there had been, a thin milky film coated the freshly deflowered pussy and a milky drop hung threateningly from her protruding lips. A pink tinge tinted the translucent fluid as it hung ready to drip.

As I carried my naked, violated and moaning daughter to bed, I was already stiffening in anticipation of our future. She was in a light sleep when I went to lay her down in her bed but opened her eyes when I began lowering her, “No daddy, with you. Please?” My heart caught in my throat. We had defiled my marital bed, there was no denying that but I knew if I lay Erin down on her mother’s side she’d stay. I wasn’t ready to replace Moira and found that ironic. I had just fucked and deflowered her daughter while her photo looked over us and was already carrying her back into our marital bed.

I laid her down as gently as I could but not without groans and moaning. Even straightening her legs invoked discomfort and I had to move slowly. Some of her damp hair spread out while some stuck to her face, throat and tit. I pulled the cool sheet up to her neck and she pushed it back down below her white breasts. She reached her arms up with effort and I bent to kiss her goodnight. I fully intended it to be soft and chaste but she had other ideas and it turned into a torrid, sloppy open mouth kiss. I stood to leave her side when she stopped me. She had seen my treasonous dick had become hard again and had started to leak, “You can cum on me if you want daddy.”

I almost shit and my cock lurched, slinging a hanging drop onto the sheets. “Not tonight sweetie. Not much more I’d rather do right now, but you need to rest. Go to sleep honey,” and I kissed her on her forehead before leaving the room. Walking through the quiet house completely naked was kind of a thrill. I grabbed a half full Solo cup of whisky and retired to the hot tub. I drank and masturbated while replaying tonight’s total abandonment of anything normal or right in a father’s love for his daughter. I must’ve cum 2 more times before I drug my exhausted ass to bed, feeling sorry for myself.

HEALING ACCOMMODATIONS

I was on my second cup and almost done with the breakfast steaks and omelets. Fresh organic tomatoes were sliced and on the table, straight from the giant hot house that had been Moira’s pride and joy. Erin emerged, looking like my little girl and not so much my lover with tussled hair and blinking eyes. I struggled with whether I needed to help her as her pained shuffle looked difficult. But she forced a sweet smile, “Good morning daddy.” Well, she didn’t hate me at least.

She groaned as she sat at the table and clasped my hands in hers as I was setting her cup down. She actually kissed my arm when I reached in front of her. She was wearing one of my t-shirts and as large as it was still rested on her small breasts and her tiny nipples were more apparent. I mused over their still being swollen and wondered how sensitive they were. She was already a minimalist when she used makeup largely because she didn’t need it. Now her fresh face glowed in the bright sunlight that filled the kitchen and breakfast alcove.

I could see her fatigue and her features were frequently marred with grimaces, furrowed eyebrows and winces as every move seemed to hurt. I found her beautiful as she ate and the way she cradled her coffee cup before taking a sip. Yet I was bothered by her obvious suffering. What I did, what I allowed to happen between us was such a betrayal of trust, even if she was actively working to make it happen. Yet she never looked at me with anything but affection and I really wanted to soothe the damage I had done to her small body and especially her swollen pussy.

Moira and myself had worked toward being as healthy and self sustaining as we could be. The hothouses grew vegetables and Moira had an encyclopedic knowledge of medicinal plants and herbs. We had a half dozen of very successful beehives that shared their honey, bees wax and propolis. She ordered arnica flowers in bulk and we made tinctures for rub downs after especially heavy workouts and strenuous projects.

I was making Erin some arnica tea and an idea came to me. The problem with tinctures is they, by definition, are infused in alcohol. It was when I had picked up the cup and turned to bring it over that Erin clamped her hands in her lap and groaned as she bent over. I placed the cup in front of her and bent to kiss her cheek as I rubbed her back. She straightened up and turned to kiss me on the lips. She hissed from pain as she twisted in her chair but she still completed her mission of kissing her daddy. “I’ll be right back baby, I’m going to make a bath for you.” She nodded with kind of sad but hopeful eyes.

I went to the medicine pantry and removed one of the 2# packs of arnica flowers that Moira had vacuum sealed. We had probably a dozen or more of these packs. My ensuite had a jetted tub along with the giant walk-in shower. I started the water, just the hot which could be scalding if one wasn’t careful. Between the high temperatures of the tankless water heater and the solar heating panels on the roof, it was steaming hot coming out of the tap. I slit the vacuum packed arnica bag and it hissed as the dried flowers expanded. I ripped the top of the bag and dumped the entire thing into the tub. An umber color immediately started emanating from the swirling blossoms and the water quickly became a golden color. It was darkening as I left to retrieve my aching daughter.

When I returned and sat Erin on her feet, she looked questioningly at the tea colored tub with brown plant pieces floating and swirling around. I had sat with her and drank another coffee while we talked to give the tub time to steep and cool some. I lifted my moaning daughter and carried her back. Her head was on my chest and her arms around my neck; that warmed me from the middle of my chest to the ends of my arms and legs. “It’s arnica honey, it’ll help with pain and help to heal bruises and muscle aches,” I explained in answer to her questioning look.

The tub steamed and she watched intently as I skimmed the depleted flowers from the water so that I could run the jets. I dipped my fingers in the water and found it hot but not uncomfortably so. Just to be sure, I dipped my hand in to the wrist. It was plenty hot yet well within my comfort level. But it wasn’t my battered sex that was going in it. I got up and turned to my shivering daughter.

I helped pull my t-shirt off Erin and saw she wasn’t wearing panties. I got a quick scan as she looked up with wide eyes and biting her lower lip. The angry bruises on her throat and tit were really dark. Her previously bee sting nipples were darker and swollen. Her labia was still ruby red and swollen/distended beyond her vulva and still had thin trails of what had to be our combined fluids glinting on her left inside thigh. I was thankful I had jeans on. She fell into me, hugging my waist and pressing her face into my t-shirt, “Why are you shaking Erin?”

“I just feel cold daddy, I have chills,” and she tightened her arms around me.

“Okay sweetie, let’s get you in the tub.” I didn’t wait for a reply and had already scooped her up and was turning to the tub.

I bent to lower her and her pointed toes hit the water, “Oh! That’s… that’s hot daddy.” I nodded and submerged her legs to the knee when her ass and swollen sex “kissed” the water. She sucked air in, sharply and through clenched teeth, “OW!, Ow daddy! That burns.”

I kissed her face several times and hushed her, “Shhhhhhhh. I know sweetie, take some breaths and I’ll go slow.” She whimpered as I held her right where she was for several seconds and then moaned as I lowered her hips and then thighs before laying her back on the tub’s seat. One more hiss as her sensitive nipples submerged in the steaming water, “Okay sweetie, you’re in. Better?” Erin nodded her head slowly and she purposefully smiled at me. “Just soak sweetie, let the arnica work. When, I mean IF you’re ready, run the jets.”

I had my hands on her shoulders, stroking her arms as the only place I thought I could touch her. She leaned her head against my forearm for a minute and leaned her head back, “I feel better daddy. Thank you,” her relaxed smile made me feel like her dad. The restricted thickening in my jeans made me feel like a pervert. The conflict didn’t haunt me though, it stimulated me just because of the taboo. She turned with a grunt and slipped a wet arm behind my neck to pull me around for a soft kiss. I tilted off balance and my right arm went to the seat of the tub to catch myself. She yelped because my hand thrummed her left tit and nipple on its way to gain purchase on the tub.

She pulled my face to hers for a lingering and tender kiss. I had to leave now, my cock had become painfully erect in my jeans, bent unnaturally down the left leg. I mean my fitness kept me more “responsive” than a lot of men my age. But with Erin, I exceeded what I thought was possible for the speed and frequency of renewed “readiness”. That doesn’t even touch on my disbelief at my volume of cum across multiple orgasms.

But she needed to heal. I smiled when I thought about how bad her mother had been after our torrid week long fuck fest. I reluctantly rose, “I have to get out and on the tractor sweetie before the heat of the day.” She nodded and lay back, her back arching briefly as she settled in causing those incredibly erotic nipples to surface. I stood looking down and admiring her. After that tantalizing stretch, I made a production of biting the heel of my hand which brought a very cute giggle from my soaking and newly relaxed daughter.

The hot and dusty day did as I hoped, it had stilled my ardor and the hot shower (that ran brown at first from the dirt and grime washing off of me) began to make me drowsy. I had done a boat-ton of weeding and cleared a French drain and, as fit as I am, I felt my age as my shoulders and arms ached.

I remember Moira talking about hiring a yard guy long before she got sick. I relished the labor when Moira and Erin were gone but now I was seriously reconsidering it. Especially when my right shoulder popped. I stopped by the medicine pantry and grabbed a jar of tincture of arnica, a dark brown spirit to rub into my muscles. I walked to the kitchen bar, poured a couple ounces of whisky in a tumbler and sat at the breakfast nook. From there I could sip whisky and rub arnica into my arms and legs, while I looked at the freshly cut yard with the rough and the trees that marked its edges.

I was pleased with myself, with the completeness of my work. But the neglect of the last month and a half, turned a two hour job into five hours. I cursed myself for letting it get that way and swore silently that I would hit it at least every two weeks. I was hoping for an afternoon, maybe catching a game on the big screen. Instead, all I had left in me was to relax, get something to eat and try and get some sleep.

BETTER

Erin came in, wearing a thin cotton night shirt that ended in the middle of those luscious thighs. Her blond hair was almost dry but its original red was more readily apparent. The sun kissed tips had gone from platinum to gold highlights. Her golden hair now looked like rose gold. The hickeys weren’t so black and angry anymore. And while the shirt was a size too small, its nipple defining cling didn’t seem to cause too much discomfort.

While she still walked carefully she didn’t wince, hiss or whimper. Her face was fresh and it glowed. Her warm smile rarely lessened, only with infrequent twinges. I became suddenly aware of my naked torso. I had always limited going shirtless to the pool or beach trips in the past and even then would put a shirt when out of the water. And I just as quickly laughed at what had been habit before, “You just fucked your daughter, I think she scan handle seeing your chest,” my internal argument signaling another father/daughter boundary dying.

Erin looked weird to me. She was still my daughter, but the girl whose virtue I had taken and the look in her eyes was different. I don’t know how to describe it. It wasn’t a crazed or even a lustful look but it was intense and her eyes never left mine. It was like her mom, I was enchanted and I don’t think I could of moved if I had wanted. But as she pulled a chair up, that expression became my teenage daughter’s again, “May I have one daddy?” She nodded to my tumbler. It was like she had shaken the mouse to wake up the PC. Then that weird expression returned and the timbre of her voice was different too, but still her, “Least you can do is buy a girl a drink,” she chuckled cutely at herself, “Especially after the night I gave you.”

“What.. huh? I mean, uh, yeah… yes, of course!” I was grateful I didn’t have a hard on when I stood but my cock was heavy. I sat the glass in front of her and bent to kiss her upturned lips. It was a gentle kiss, not a full on French kiss but her tongue slid across my lips before breaking to raise her glass. I cursed myself for the lurch I felt in my semi-hard cock and it threatened to creep out of my left leg hole.

As I sat down and reached for the jar of the arnica tincture, my shoulder popped loud enough that Erin heard it and she looked concerned. “Daddy?”, she sounded like my young daughter again.

I smiled, “I’m okay sweetie, it doesn’t hurt when it does that. Just the muscles being tight on my old man shoulders.” I rolled my eyes and she giggled before taking another draw from her glass. Her cute little shudders from her inexperience with liquor were getting smaller. I poured some of the tincture from its pour spout into my cupped hand and clapped it to the back of my neck and started massaging. Then repeated the process trying to get to as much of my shoulder as I could.

Erin set her tumbler down with a thin sliver of amber wetting the bottom, her drink almost exhausted. I pondered the way she stood, the way she looked at me. Womanly! That’s what it was, that’s what I was hearing in her voice; that’s what I was seeing in her petite form. For all of her genius and achievements with two highly skilled degrees, she had still sounded like a teenager even throughout our debauchery. “Let me do that daddy.” She stood, a little flash of discomfort crossing her pretty face. I began to protest but she cut me off, “I’m better daddy. I can do this for you.” And I deferred to my petite daughter.

I had to fight, will myself not to get an erection when she stood behind me. She leaned over me to reach the jar of medicine and her small tit pressed into the back of my head. I hoped my moan wasn’t audible but her tiny gasp, from the twinge, sent another surge into my complaining cock. I under estimated her abilities. While I admired her full muscled thighs, her softly defined abs and her athletic arms, I didn’t think about her grip. Most of her physique was carved by tennis.

I jumped as she poured a little of the liquid at the top of my neck and the chilling alcohol shocked me. But when her fingers clamped on the mastoids and her thumbs dug into the part of my trap going up the neck, there was a deep ache that radiated from her muscle boring thumbs. Then she suddenly “popped” her thumbs off and I felt a knot just drop out and a small rush of endorphins. “Holy shit Moira!” I heard her breath catch as what I said stunned her and shamed me, “Oh fuck, I’m sorry Erin… please, please forgive me.”

“Oh be quiet daddy,” her voice had that weird ‘womanly’ timbre, “It’s okay. Did mom do this to you?” I nodded with my face still lowered. “And I reminded you of her?” I nodded again, “Then I’ll take that as a compliment.” Before I could respond she squeezed again and rolled those painful thumbs up either side of my spine. She stopped and splashed arnica in her hands and reapplied it to my aching muscles.

Her fingers crawled up further like a millipede and repeated the rolling thumb treatment. She repeated this until she had covered my whole neck. Then she slid her hands down again and did one long, hard thumb roll the entire length and I felt four solid pops and a flood of endorphins, “Ahhhhhh! Oh sweetie, that’s amazing.” I let my head fall back into her chest and she bent to kiss my forehead while her hands were squeezing my traps as they swept to my shoulders.

“Did you like that daddy?” fuck yeah I liked it, “It’s what any wife should do.” I lurched forward and she pulled be back in the chair with my head back against her small body, she slid her hands from my traps and slid them down to grasp my pecs and thumb my nipples. Damned if my traitorous cock didn’t make an appearance, its head and pons extending below my leg hole. The bend was painful.

I know she noticed as her breath quickened but she coaxed me forward. She worked all of my muscles, from my neck to the small of my back and from my shoulders to my fingers. I felt jolts of deep penetrating pain as she found and pressed the knots while they rolled underneath her fingers and thumb. She was liberal with the brown healing tincture and I was at a state you could pour me out of the chair like so much milk. “Where did you learn how to do that Erin?”

I relaxed as she left my back, took our glasses and stepped over to pour more for each of us. I appreciated the anesthetic effects of the whisky and I was sure Erin relished *any* relief. I could “hear” her eye roll, “Daaaaddy, what do you think I’ve been doing for four years. My tennis, remember? You think we never needed rubdowns? I paid attention, I learned what worked.” She returned to the table and grunted slightly when she bent to set my glass in front of me. She was so close and I smelled the light scent of her tea tree oil soap and sandalwood oil. She suddenly turned her face to me and flashed a big smile before sitting down.

“Well, now I feel like I’ve had a dose of Percocet or something, mmmmm,” even the sip of whisky tasted better. But I still had a problem and twisted away from her to pull my painfully bent rod from the shorts’ leg. I tried to get it to lay sideways inside the garment but it slid upwards and emerged from my waistband. I tried a couple more times and had to give up, “Shit. I’m sorry sweetie.”

Erin gulped half of her glass, gave a little shudder and smiled. That womanly voice returned like she was channeling a woman twice her age. “Oh daddy,” she took a fake and dismissive swat at my arm, “I like that I do that to you.” She leaned forward with a small wince and slid her small hand up and down the bottom of my now dripping shaft.

“Erin,” I croaked, “Baby, you can’t. You need to heal sweetie.” She smiled wickedly and moved to slide between my legs. We had been more or less facing each other with our chairs. “OH FUCK!” She kept her eyes looking into mine as she licked the exposed three or four inches, from my waistband to my precum seeping eye.

“Mmmmmmmm,” she cooed and her fingers drew my waist band out and down under my balls, “I’m better daddy and there’s more I can do than just fuck my father.” Even with everything that’s happened the last couple of days, hearing profanities from my daughter’s mouth belied her youthful and innocent face. I grunted as I felt a twitch over the entire length of my towering hard on and felt a bulge travel through my urethra to be spat over my daughter’s tongue.

My head fell back and my eyes closed, “Holy shit Erin, what you do to me.” She swirled her tongue coating the bulbous head with a mix of saliva and my latest deposit of precum. She slipped off my throbbing dick and looked up with lidded eyes, her full and glossy lips parted with a a milky drop of spittle and precum hanging from her lower lip.