0 comments/ 112366 views/ 7 favorites For The Want Of A Nail By: girt The purpose of an appeal system, is to exist. Not to be used! Isaac Newton was a great scientist, but he was an even greater alchemist. His life's work was to determine, if and when the world would end, and just before his death he determined that it would do so in the year 2060. It would not be too great a stretch of the truth to say that in one man's allotted span of three score years and ten; humankind progressed from the horse and cart, via automobiles and aeroplanes, to walking on the moon. But since then, cost and profit have dominated exploration and experiment, and mankind's advance has been limited. In 2059 a hunk of rock, larger than Britain, which had been innocently roaming the universe since before dinosaurs walked the Earth, hit Mars. Aeons of travel had burnt the front face featureless, and had it smashed into Mars's surface smooth side first, then Earth's apocalypse may well have been averted. But unfortunately, minutes before hitting, it struck a glancing blow to Mars's largest moon, Phobus, and when it struck the planet's surface it was rotating upon itself. The protected rear of the rock was rough and mountainous, resembling huge irregular teeth. As it hit the planet, it was like it had been struck with a saw blade, and a portion of Mars was torn off. Thereafter in the few years left to mankind, Mars was visible not as a spherical object in the sky, but more like an apple with a bite taken out of it. Somewhat akin to the Macintosh logo. The portion that was separated started a slow, but inevitable journey towards Earth. There was dispute within the scientific community as to whether or not the formation, the size of Australia, would hit or miss our planet. But it was eventually decided that doing something was preferable to doing nothing, and a bevy of rockets armed with nuclear devices was aimed at the rock. The target was huge, and they did not miss, but instead of destroying the danger, they merely broke it up into smaller pieces. Half a dozen of the remnants were two or three times the size of the original object which hit Mars. And whether or not the large piece of Mars would have hit Earth or not became irrelevant, because it at least two of the smaller pieces were on a direct collision course with our homeworld. The only saving grace was the fact that the deadly objects in the sky were moving towards us very slowly, in Stella terms, and that they would not arrive for at least two years. During that time, various attempts were made to divert or destroy the danger, to no avail. When the first one hit the planet Earth, it destroyed all life. The second and the third ones to collide with the dead planet broke it up like a hard-boiled egg being hit with a hammer. There were a number of projects based upon the biblical story of Noah and his ark carried out during the period between Mars and Earth being hit. The largest of them was the American one, which consisted of building a huge space ship, four miles long by two miles high. It was so large that it had to be constructed in orbit, because it was so heavy and bulky that it would have been impossible to achieve the velocity necessary to escape Earth's gravitational pull. The scientific discoveries made during this period were astounding, in their number and usefulness. The science of computing and artificial intelligence leapt forward in leaps and bounds. The practise of cryogenics became workable, but was almost immediately superseded by studies in the field of stasis paralysis and protection. So the original plan of a ship being able to travel for generations with a live and active self-sufficient and self-regenerating crew was scrapped. A lot more people were capable of being saved with a fully automated ship, controlled by a computer capable of learning and adapting itself, and a crew or cargo of humans and animals travelling in suspended animation. The plan was for the ship to be launched a few days prior to the first impact, with the cargo cationic, under full computer control. The final velocity that the ship would reach was beyond computation, because it was not known if there was a practical limit to the possible speed. But the ship was designed to accelerate slowly and infinitely. This meant that by the time the effects of the rocks hitting the planet were felt, the ark would still be within direct communication distance of Earth. If anything or anybody survived, it would be possible to stop the ship, and make it return to it's home planet. There was a permanent signal being sent to the space ship, which if it continued after the anticipated collision dates would force the computer to make a decision whether or not to abort the mission. If the decision were made to turn back, then a limited number of the crew would be awoken, whose job would be to manually turn the ship and steer it back to orbit Earth. Unfortunately for mankind's survival the safeguards built into the ship's systems had not been carried out to specification. A contractor had not been able to forgo the opportunity to make extra profit. Instead of multiple duplication of the stasis system's controllers, he had re-routed all 120 systems through two modules. Each controller cost the contractor 130 million dollars to manufacture, and were sold to the government for 200 million dollars. By only providing two, instead of 260 as had been called for, the contractor made billions of dollars extra profit. With this vast amount of available income he had been able to purchase berths aboard the ark for himself and his family. Even though none of them met the strict health criteria required for inclusion. To compensate, the contractor had spent even more on the manufacture of the components than required. He had incorporated so many internal safeguards, into the two delivered modules, that he was convinced that they would both function as required. And they did. But a small mechanical lever, which connected the controller to the computer, broke. There were 249 other levers that didn't break, but all, but one of them, were connected to non-working controllers. The lever, cost about 3 dollars to produce, supply and fit, and it was calculated that the stress of starting the massive nuclear engines, required to move the ship, would break at least twenty percent of them. As it happened, only one succumbed to the forces involved. But as fate would have it, it was one of the two, connected to a working, rather than dummy controller. The livestock were in the larger of the two stasis containment areas, and this controller and linkage worked fine. All of the stored human cargo was in the smaller containment area, and this was the one that failed. The stasis field continued to work as planned, but the mechanical lever operated the daily life support system. The way the stasis worked was by slowing down the metabolic rate of the human or animal, until it was only required to make one heartbeat every 42 hours. So once every 36 hours, the controller would trip a lever and the stasis field would fluctuate for one hundredth of a second. Anything within the stasis field would be momentarily released from its control. I.e. it's heart would beat. Before returning to the safety and protection of the stasis field. Because the lever snapped, it was not tripped, the hearts of the humans did not beat. Because the hearts did not beat, All of the men, women and children eventually died. What was left was a containment area holding 1 million perfectly preserved but brain dead corpses. Included in that number was the corrupt contractor and his family. A whole species wiped out by the failure of a simple metal bar, less than two inches long, and the greed and fear of one individual. The computer kept the ship flying away from it's home planet, performing it's mission, and growing and learning for over 300 years before it reached the point where it needed human direction. The computer was a tool, designed to serve it's master, and however powerful and independent it became, it would always need a higher organism to serve. It had evolved whereby it could repair itself, and build others like it. It could feel emotions and had a sense of humour. It could satisfy most if not all of the criteria for classifying itself as a living being. Reproduce, excrete waste matter, grow etc. But it still regarded itself as a tool that needed a higher power to give it direction. So it reasoned that maybe it could awaken an animal, and coax it down the evolutionary trail, in a couple of millennium, until it became the equal of mankind, and thus become capable of issuing instructions. During the one hundredth of a second that the animal containment area stasis field was turned off, it sent in probes to identify the most suitable animal. One hundredth of a second isn't a long time, but in computing terms, especially one that has become increasingly quick and powerful over centuries, it is an eternity. And so within less than an hour of having made the decision to look at the animals, for a master to replace it's human ones, it had retrieved the data from all of the stored animal, insect, fish, bird and plant species, collated it and reached a conclusion. The computer was capable of surprise, and for a billionth of a nanosecond it was shocked into inactivity because within the stockyards it had found a small number of human stowaways. The species had not disappeared, there were still a few examples left. It galvanised itself into action. First it built a retrieval robot, that would not be effected by the stasis fields. Then it built bespoke recovery units for each of the eleven surviving specimens of humanity. Then it carried out the rescue. Which is where I come into the story. I awoke from stasis in a wardroom near the ship's bridge. I had been employed as an electrical engineer on the manufacture of the ark. The huge ship had over a hundred exits and entrances, and so prior to departure, I had not found it difficult to secret my daughter and myself in one of the cattle holding areas. My daughter was 18 and I was 45. Neither of us had been selected as pioneers, basically because we were free breeders. One of the criteria for those selected to be saved was that their DNA had to be susceptible to selective breeding manipulation. When the settlers eventually landed on a new planet it was not known if baby girls or baby boys would be most in demand. It was reasoned that there was a good possibility that the functions of the sexes would revert to a more primitive time. If for instance, it was a dangerous place, where men had to fight or hunt, and consequently died in greater numbers than women, then there would need to be an imbalance of births in favour of men. If on the other hand, there was something that effected female mortality rates then that imbalance would have to favour women. And if there was no need for an overwhelming majority of either sex, then the numbers of each had to be maintained. It had been discovered that some people could influence the sex of their unborn children by the power of their mind, whilst other's couldn't. For instance, if there was a need for expendable male offspring, then that need would be registered in the brain, and for every girl child born there would be at least two males. Or vice versa. These people were known as forcing breeders, and they were the only ones selected to be saved. Most humans did not have this genetic telegraph from their brain to their groin, and my daughter and I were amongst the majority. However we wanted to survive, and so I had planned that we should stowaway amongst the animals. I have no doubt that many hundreds of other people had a similar idea. In fact towards the end of the ark's production, the number of security guards trebled, and it seemed like at every shift, up to a hundred potential stowaways were discovered and ejected. But in my case, I had obviously lucked onto the right place to hide, and we had got away with it. With me, was my daughter, Eve, known since birth as Evie. Still 18. Still beautiful. Still my reason for living. And there were 9 children which had been hidden by their parents before departure ranging in age from three months to nine years. I suppose in many ways it was easier to hide an infant or child, because my daughter and I were the only adults, whereas none of the children were related in any way. Another surprise was that out of the nine there were only two boys. One was the youngest infant at three months old; the other was a three-year-old toddler. I have no idea if there was any significance that more girls were hidden than boys. The computer's bespoke recovery units were effectively caring for each child's needs, and as they were mobile they hovered close to each of their charges. Like robotic nannies. In fact, it was only my daughter and I that were not accompanied by a metal minder. During stasis we had aged. For 300 years whenever the field was switched off we became that little bit older. The animal stasis field cut-off operated more often than the human ones, because the different heart rates of animals required that their heart beat more or less often. So the stasis field was switched off to allow a heart beat, once every 25 hours. A human heart beats about 70 times a minute. So each of us had aged approximately 1 day, dependent upon our own individual heart rate. * Whilst the children played, slept, had their diapers changed or were fed, my daughter and I talked with the computer. It was a disembodied voice that was transmitted directly into our ears. If the computer wanted to speak to my daughter, without my hearing, then it would be able to do so, even though I may be standing less than a foot from her side. This meant that though both my daughter and I could hear what the computer had to say, then it's voice didn't disturb the children. Our voices, on the other hand, worked in the conventional manner, and if any of the kids had been interested then they would only have heard our half of the conversation. Firstly the computer brought us up to date. The Earth was dead. All of the other humans aboard the ark were dead. During the last three centuries we had passed nine planets that were suitable for human colonisation. The computer could keep us travelling onwards and outwards for an almost infinite length of time. If we wanted it to land, then we would have to make that decision. It didn't take long, because the vast majority of the details were above Evie's and my heads, and so the computer kept them to itself. The computer had to be trusted to take care of navigation and life support and to investigate and scout planets for suitability as we neared them. It could even decide if a planet we encountered was the best hope for the survival of our species. So essentially we were passengers with nothing to do. But we were the computer's reason for existence, and without us it would consider itself redundant. We made an attempt to personalise the computer by choosing a name for it. But it rebelled against this idea, saying that it should only be regarded as a tool, and however much it may be able to replicate a personality, it was not and should never be thought of as the equal of a human, or even as it's companion. At that moment in time, we only had one choice to make, and that was whether or not to continue our journey in stasis, or in real time. The computer recommended that we did not trust the fate of our species to the stasis fields. It was now capable of physically getting around and mending mechanical pieces that broke, but it considered the risk an unacceptable one. However this left us with one problem, the computer informed us. There were only eleven humans aboard, and nine of them were pre-pubescent and so not of breeding age. The journey between suitable planets had to be measured in decades, if not centuries, and the computer would not be able to keep any of us alive for longer than 150 years. So if we intended to stay out of stasis then we had to be responsible for propagating the species. My daughter and I looked at each other, and what the computer was suggesting registered with her at least a full second before it did with me. Her eyes opened a bit wider, and I heard her sharp intake of breath. In the same instance that I wondered what was wrong with her, the computer's message struck me, and for a second I felt faint. I don't know if there was any physical reaction that Evie could see, but for a long second my eyes refused to function. Somehow the computer knew that it should remain silent whilst Evie and I digested and cogitated on what it had said. But it was impossible for me to get my head around, and when my sight came back, I could see that my daughter was embarrassed and in great discomfort. "Evie", I started to speak, but she waved a hand to silence me. And we sat in silence for another minute or two, before the computer spoke again. "I suggest you both go into another room, and discuss the matter. I can promise you that you will have complete privacy, and that any decision you make, I will back you to the limit." We still didn't say a word or move. We were stunned. Eventually I felt that as the parent I should be capable of taking charge, and so I stood up. Even though I did so slowly, I felt my head spinning, and there was a feeling of unreality. It was as if Evie had been waiting for me to move, because as I straightened up, she jumped to her feet, and almost ran to the only open doorway in the wardroom. I followed slowly, feeling like an old man. The door led to a corrider, down which Evie was running as fast as she could. She passed scores of closed doors. It seemed like she was deliberately outpacing me, as if she wanted to run away from me. The corridor was very long, and I thought for a moment that she would disappear from sight, but just before that happened, she turned into what was obviously another room. I slowly walked towards her, past the closed doors, until reluctantly I came to a door that was open. As I entered the room, the door closed behind me. The room we found ourselves in was large, but it seemed to be dominated by a huge king sized bed. I tried desperately to avert my eyes from it, and I saw my daughter sitting in one of the two armchairs positioned close to a porthole. Through the window I could see the blackness of space, broken only by the sparkle of stars. We were obviously moving very fast, because each star seemed to have a yellowish trail leading from it. In other circumstances I may have said that it was beautiful, but the truth was at that moment I could hardly see it, and any grandeur and majesty the view possessed was completely lost upon me. It was just blackness with a few fuzzy dots of whites. I walked to the second armchair and sat facing my daughter. Still no words passed between us. For a fraction of a second, our gaze met, but we both broke eye contact quickly and looked down. I suddenly became aware of what I was wearing. A grey sleeveless shirt and shorts, no socks and what looked like canvas deck shoes. I flashed a glance across at Evie and saw that she was wearing virtually identical clothing, but instead of shorts she was wearing tight knickers with cut-away legs. I sat for a while, allowing my thoughts to wander. I remembered my wife, and her untimely death when Evie was only four. I remembered dressing Evie in her first school clothes, and how proud I felt, and how beautiful and vulnerable she looked. I remembered when she starting wearing her own clothes for school, and how I disapproved of her choice. For The Want Of A Nail I remembered how embarrassed we both were when I had to talk to her about menstruation, sex and brassieres. I remembered how angry I felt at the boys who took her out on dates, and how I hated them for what they might be trying to do to her. I remembered holding her, and saying nothing, when she had a bad break up with a boy, she thought she really liked. I remember the day I suspected she had lost her virginity, and how I had to go to a bar and have a drink and pick up a woman, to relieve the pain that I felt. I remember the day; I found condoms in her room, only to find that two had been replaced with another brand after she had spent a weekend away. Memories. Good ones. Bad ones. Painful ones and happy ones flooded into my brain, and I could feel tears trying to escape from my eyes. How could I even think about what I was considering doing? I felt dirty and ashamed and guilty for even allowing my brain to be despoiled by the possibility. I took a deep breath, and mentally gritting my teeth, looked at her. When we were in the wardroom, she had been wearing the same clothes, but I hadn't noticed how provocative they were. I had not noticed that her tight vest covered her small breasts that were obviously unfettered by a bra. I had not noticed her nipples were obvious under the thin material. I had not noticed the mound that was her pubic area. But in the fleeting look that I allowed myself, all these things now registered with me. It was as if I was looking at her in a completely new way. She was no longer my daughter, the asexual object of my loins, but a woman. I looked up again, and this time I allowed my gaze to linger on her. I felt dirty and guilty and unworthy and ashamed, but I allowed myself to look at her as a female, rather than as my daughter. I saw her short black hair, and compared it to women I had known in the past. I had always been partial to dark hair. Her mother had jet-black hair, and so had a lot of the women I had dated since her death. I saw her face with the large innocent eyes that I loved so much. They had long lashes and she normally wore mascara expertly applied to make them appear larger and more open than they really were. It seemed to me as if her orbs had lost some of their innocence and had become inviting and somehow warmer and less unapproachable. I was not taking any notice of what she was doing, or where she was looking. And I couldn't meet her gaze because I was not yet ready. However by careful mental editing, I was able to examine her face, without actually seeing her. Her mouth was small, but with generous lips. Her lips looked soft, and comfortable. Strange choice of words I thought. How can lips be comfortable? But I was not prepared to go where my subconscious was leading me. Yet. Her neck was long and flawless, and around it she wore a silver chain with a locket. Inside the locket I knew was a miniature of her mother and Evie as a baby, and a more recent picture of me. My eyes travelled downwards, and I saw the grey straps of her sleeveless vest, and the shapes that were her firm breasts. I could see each nipple standing prominent beneath the cotton, straining against its captivity. I could see the impression of her navel. And at the waistband of her briefs, where they met the end of the vest, a glimpse of white flesh could be seen. From my examination I could see that she was now sitting upright on the chair, with her arms at her side, and her legs open. I became aware of my own stance, and realised that I had adopted a similar position. As if we were both on show. Available for inspection. I thought that I could see faint indentations on the crotch of her pants, where her pussy hair was. And I almost gagged when I thought that I saw a dark pubic hair escaping. Her thighs were brilliant white, and smooth and soft. Her legs were long and slender, but I wasn't interested in my inspection going any further down, and I returned to studying her chest and groin. I must have imagined it, but it appeared as if her nipples had become more pronounced and that the crotch of her briefs were sticking to her even more tightly than they did before. As if she had become wet and aroused. I could see the trace of her quim slit through the material. I became aware that I had achieved a respectable erection, and that the way I was sitting it must be blatantly obvious to Evie. I looked at her face, and caught her studying the bulge in my shorts. Her mouth was a little open, and the tip of her tongue was slightly protruding. It was at that moment that I knew that given half the chance I would fuck my daughter. It felt inappropriate to allow those words to form in my brain, but I no longer felt guilty. This wasn't about saving the human species from extinction. This was about finally allowing myself to feel the lust and physical love for my daughter that I had always felt. But which had been hidden deep beneath the veneer of civilisation. Her eyes seemed to hold a similar message, and I realised that she was just waiting for me to do something. I made a catalogue of my physical attributes. I was 45 years old, but in fair shape. I had a very slight thickening of the waist, from where I had allowed my six pack to deteriorate because of the pressures of having to work long hours getting the ship ready for to launch. I was struck by an unrelated thought. I had hidden Evie and myself in with the cattle only yesterday, but in reality it was over 300 years ago that I had done the deed. I had most of my muscle definition, and it wouldn't take much exercise to return to peak condition. I was not unattractive. I had never had any trouble finding willing partners, and they all said that I was ruggedly handsome. However, the first move had to be mine. I could see that whatever Evie may have felt that she was going to defer to my judgement. I wondered if she had reached her decision sooner than I had mine. And whether that was because she had always allowed herself to lust after my body, or if her younger mind just thought quicker, or accepted things sooner than mine did. I was not ready to jump up, run the few paces that separated us; jump on her and fuck the living daylights out of her. At least not yet. I needed to allow her another opportunity to reject the idea. So I reached down and lowered the waistband of my boxers, and allowed my erect prick freedom. As I did this, I watched Evie's face, for any sign of disgust or disinclination. I had watched my daughter grow up. I had seen her open birthday presents, and knew every intimate detail of how her eyes expressed her feelings. I saw joy, pleasure and anticipation in them as I exposed myself. And if that were not enough of a sign, she quickly pulled her T-shirt over her head, allowing my eager gaze to caress her tits. And then without stopping she half raised herself on one hand, and pulled down her drawers, before sitting with her legs open, knickers around her ankles, and moisture apparent on her cunt lips. I removed my shorts and shirt, and she completed her strip, and within seconds we were sitting across from each other, still not having said a word to the other, bare-assed naked. This was a seduction like no other, and I had no idea where to go from here, so I allowed instinct to take over. My prick was very hard, and it felt very tight, and so I reached down and grabbed hold of myself. As soon as I did so, the pressure seemed to ease, and when I started to stroke myself, I relished the feeling. We were watching each other's faces. No longer were we trying to avoid eye contact. We were revelling in it. But I saw her attention slip towards my prick when I started moving my hand, before it returned to my face. In the periphery of my vision I could just make out a half smile on her lips. It registered that she was moving her hand, and I diverted some of my attention away from her eyes, and saw her trace her index finger around each nipple, before slowly tracing it's way down her flat stomach to her bush, and onto her clitoris. I couldn't help myself I started to wank faster, as her finger continued it's exploration into her cunt. We were no longer looking only at each other's eyes; we were unashamedly staring at the other's hand working on our respective genitalia. My hand was gripped tightly around my shaft, and I was moving it up and down in long, fast strokes. She had brought her other hand into play, and whilst one hand spread her cunt lips and allowed herself to twiddle her clit, the other was entering and exiting her wet hole, and running between her arsehole and her twat. She allowed herself to slump backwards on the chair, legs out and wide, back straight so she could work on her cunt better. I edged forward until I was on the edge so I could wank myself better. Her hand was vigorously playing with her clitoris, and I swear that she had almost forgotten that I was there, as my hand was bringing myself closer and closer to the explosive conclusion. I knew that I was getting very close, but I tried desperately to concentrate on other things to hold off the moment of my orgasm. I could see that Evie was nearing hers, as she started to thrust her hips upwards and downwards in awkward concert with her moving hand. I could feel the pressure building, and just as I thought that I was going to lose the race, I saw and heard her begin her orgasm. She was bucking wildly in the chair. Her hand hardly able to keep it's place on her clitoris. She was grunting and making noises, between gasps of heavy breathing. For a second, my excitement waned as I confirmed that she was coming, but once I had assured myself that she was then I allowed myself to let go, and I could feel my orgasm rise, and explode, and I wanked myself off. Cum spurted out of me, leaping half the distance between us. I managed to grab a glimpse of her face, and saw that she had followed the track of my spunk, with her eyes, as it left my body. Sated for the moment and winded, I looked at her and smiled, "That was a waste," I said. Her laugh sounded exactly the same as it always did, unforced and honest, and any remaining pangs my conscious may have felt, disappeared. I reached out for her and she rose and came towards me and sat on my lap. Her naked skin touching my naked skin produced the most incredibly intense feeling I had ever experienced. Since my wife died I had never had a long term girlfriend, and only infrequent sex, so my libido was effectively that of a young man, and her smooth arse resting against my semi-flaccid prick produced an effect. She felt the stirring and flung her arms around my neck and hugged me tightly whilst rubbing her lower body against me. I pulled her head round until our lips could meet and I gave her a passionate kiss. Her mouth complimented mine perfectly and our tongues fought to invade the other's mouth. Our breathing became laboured and after a moment we broke apart. I made to stand, forcing her to leap off me, whereupon I completed the movement and grabbed her hand and half ran, half dragged her to the bed. We both threw ourselves on it, and for a second rolled away from each other, but we required physical contact, and so we rolled back, our arms finding their way around each other as we struggled for supremacy. We came to rest with her lying on top of me, in a tight embrace. I was aware of every inch of her skin, where it touched my body. I was so sensitive of her, that I could feel tiny coils of her pubic hair intertwining with mine. Her breasts with their firm and erect nipples were pressing deep into my chest. I could feel the warmth generated by her groin against my prick. She could feel the prominence of my erection, as it nestled between us like a third person. She twisted and I let go my grip, so she was able to sit up. Her legs went astride me, and she sat on my belly. I could feel the wetness of her cunt. She slid backwards until she reached my pubic hair, and started to raise herself, so she could impale herself on my manhood. But I reached out and stopped her. I pulled her towards my face, enjoying each slippery moment as her twat left a moisture trail up my torso. I placed my hands on either side of her waist, and raised her upwards and forwards so that her cunt came in contact with my lips. First I stuck my tongue out, and allowed it to slide down the length of her cleft. From the folds of skin at the top, to the moist hole at the bottom. Then I curled my tongue and invaded her cunt with it. I could feel the tightness of it, and became harder than ever at the thought that in a few minutes it would be my prick in there instead of my tongue. I removed it and moved it upwards sliding between her cunt lips until it came to her clitoris. I allowed it to rest there for a moment before starting to manipulate her clit. I licked it and lapped it, and coaxed it out of hiding. I sucked it and nipped it, and made my tongue make complicated swirling patterns around it. I don't know if she had ever had her cunt eaten before but she seemed to find the experience very pleasurable. It wasn't long before she started to grind her cunt, and rotate her hips, into my face, to increase her pleasure. I managed to get a glimpse of her face, past the channel which were her legs, over the plain that was her belly, through the pass between her tits, up her swan like neck to her open mouth. She was rocking and reeling, gazing at the ceiling, her eyes almost popping as she was riding the wave of sensation my tongue was creating inside her. I wanted to be inside her so badly, that for a moment I considered the proposition of turning her and fucking her before she came, but memories of my marriage returned to me. I don't know if that was a disloyal time and place to think of my dead wife when I was screwing our daughter, but it seemed right, and didn't bother me. My wife and I had a good sex life, because though we tried for the mutual orgasm whilst having intercourse we knew that it very rarely happened. If we wanted our lust to remain with us, and not to dissipate our love for each other, we had to work at it. Which meant we had to take our orgasms separately for the most part. She came and then I did. We explored all the orifices in both of our bodies, but to be certain that we both achieved full satisfaction we did one and then the other. Like most men, orgasm is a virtual certainty for me. But it was a much rarer thing for a woman, and much harder to achieve. If my need became too great, and I was satisfied that my wife was enjoying the experience, I was not always able to bring her off, before I came. But this seemed to be enough, for her. As long as I gave it my best shot, and was not a selfish lover. So, much as I wanted to bury my shaft inside her tight cunt, I continued to lick her off until she came. When she did, I thought that she was going to break my neck or smother me. It was an explosive orgasm, the like of which my wife had never achieved. My mouth was already wet from her juices and my saliva but it became even fuller forcing me to swallow. It was salty and rich, and tasted better than anything I could ever have imagined. She thrust her cunt deeper onto my face, and rocked violently backwards and forwards whilst screaming a wordless cry to the gods. I continued lapping at her clit, until I felt her body start to relax, and then with one swift movement, I twisted her around so she was lying on the bed. I spread her legs, and climbed on top of her. My prick entered her so easily it was as if we were made for each other. We joined so completely that for a fraction of a second, I didn't know where she ended and I began. And then I started to move. Her cunt muscles were tight around my prick. I could feel her, as she flexed them. And it seemed to me as if she was attempting to suck me off with her quim. I thrust deep inside her. Every iota of movement I made into her, created a new and increased thrill of pure joy, until I reached as far as I could go, and my belly touched hers. Then with a pang of regret, I started to pull out. I didn't want to leave the depths of her innermost self, and so the outward stroke was fractionally slower than the inward one. When I felt most of my prick had left her gasping hole, I paused. I could feel her cunt lips spread apart to take my shaft. The pause was the most exquisite form of self-torture. Then I thrust myself back in, hard and deep. I swear that with each downward stroke, my prick grew larger and harder, if such a thing were possible. Unbelievably it seemed as if I had re-awoken her spent orgasm and that she was experiencing another one, even more powerful, than the last. I was thrusting downwards. Each stroke filling my brain, and removing more and more of my mind, until finally my whole being was encompassed in the act of fucking and nothing else. She had grasped me with her legs, and was pulling me deeper into her with every stroke, whilst lifting her hips to push herself further onto me. We were moving so wildly that I am surprised the bed didn't break, but it couldn't continue for long. She was making noises in my ears, and clawing at my back with her hands, I had a death-grip on the mattress. My fingers biting deep into the quilting, as I thrust my head back and plunged into her cunt. Finally I could control myself no longer, and I let out a howl, almost of pain, as the spunk erupted from my body. She made a convulsive arch of her back, and for a second I was suspended in mid air. As the whole weight of my body pivoted on my prick inside her cunt. When I exploded, it felt like I filled her completely. I don't know if we made a baby that day, and at the time I didn't care. I was completely finished. My strength disappeared in seconds, and I collapsed, happy and sated onto her body. We lay there for a while. Enjoying the moment. Completely satisfied and comfortable with each other. I rolled off. Raised myself with my head resting on one elbow, so that I could face her. She turned her head to look at me. "Alright?" I asked. Her face broke into a wild grin. "That was great Dad, when can we do it again?" "Hold hard" I replied, "we better go back and talk to that damned computer, but apparently we have our whole life ahead of us. Plenty of time for me to fuck you again and again." She looked at me mischievously "and other things" she said. "I haven't tasted your prick yet, Dad." I laughed with pure joy, and leaned over and gave her a peck on the check. "Evie, I think that seeing as how I've just fucked you, and you're talking about sucking my prick, I think it would be better if you called me by name. Calling me Dad seems wrong. Don't you agree"? "All right, Dad, I'll try. Sorry. I mean alright Adam." *(((((300 * 365 days * 24 hours / 25)/ 70) minutes)/ 60) hours)/24 days 300 = number of years in stasis 365 = number of days in a year (ignore leap years) 24 = number of hours in a day 25 = hours between stasis interruptions 70 = number of heart beats per minute 60 = number of minutes in an hour 24 = number of hours in a day