18 comments/ 64455 views/ 28 favorites Kayla's Serenade By: SarabethW The breeze was a gentle lullaby sung upon a summer day. August was lounging doggily upon the lake, the rolling hills, the countryside. Ian gazed over his private domain. Years ago, fresh out of college and struggling to make his mark in music, he had written his one-hit wonder that climbed to number three on the charts, and overnight, a multi-millionaire was born. 120 acres in the Berkshires, a stunning and incomparably beautiful wife, a daughter who was spoiled and given all the benefits of wealth, cars, the finest dining...all were his. But, just as easily as they came, they were lost. Ten years had passed since his wife, to the delight of the paparazzi, was photographed naked on the private yacht of his record producer, after which a divorce quickly ensued. Financial settlements were made. Lawyers received their pound of flesh. His daughter was sent at the age of eight to a private boarding school in France. Three years later his ex-wife was found dead from an overdose of God-knows-what! Ian became a recluse in the Berkshires. A broken man's fucked-up life in a nutshell. Ian had had ten years to sort things out, alone in his little ashram in the hills. Slowly he came to understand the life he had created for himself, and the life he had been handed by others. Sitting in his gazebo on the lake, he was contemplating the future. Not only his future, but the future of a daughter he barely knew...Kayla. He could only remember her as a little blond-haired girl, innocent and playful as the buttercups dancing in the wind across the meadows. He always smiled when he remembered her, he could not help himself. She was arriving on the train the next day, and his life would surely change in ways he could not fathom. That night he climbed the spiral staircase to his private recording studio, a story above the rest of the house, overlooking the tops of the trees to the lake and hills beyond. He smiled as he booted up the computer, "This is your last time, Ian, at least for awhile. Kayla wouldn't approve with her boarding school ways, all prim and proper." He looked at himself in the mirror at the top of the stairs. T-shirt, briefs, house slippers, typical eveningwear at the O'Neal household. He smirked at his reflection, "Guess I'll be having to improve my wardrobe a bit too." The heat of a summer evening competed with the air-conditioned comfort of the studio as Ian kicked off his slippers and removed his briefs. Plopping his naked behind down on the leather chair at his computer, he started browsing through sex videos, finding those that aroused him and made him forget how alone he was. Slowly his cock took on a mind of its own, rising with an undulating pulse that followed the action on screen. Taking his cock in hand, he began to stroke it, gently and lazily at first, then more swiftly and firmly as the stud in the video took on the beautiful ass of a blonde, begging to be stuffed and filled with his hot sperm. Ian and the video rose to a climax at the same time as the stud pulled his dick out of the girl's cunt and shot streams of hot cum over her back and bum. This had been Ian's sex life for years now. As he lay there catching his breath, he looked down at the streams of jizz that had covered his t-shirt. He could smell the pungent aroma of sperm wafting up from his sodden garment, but oh, how he missed the aroma of the other half, the female scent that complemented the male. He pulled the shirt off over his head and tossed it into the corner, his convenient way of cleaning up after the act. He looked around the studio at his musical instruments, untuned and unused for a while now. Inspiration was not something that had come easily to Ian these past few years. With a sigh he climbed back down the stairs and crawled into bed in his usual night-time wear...nothing. Late August brought an unexpectedly cool morning, hinting of an early autumn perhaps, as Ian rose refreshed from a good night's rest. Showering and shaving, he wanted to look especially fine when he met his daughter for the first time in ten years. He inspected himself in the bathroom mirror. Forty-one years of age, no paunch, brown hair except for the few silvers around his temples. "Not bad!" he thought to himself, "You've held up pretty well, you old dog." Grinning, he dressed in his best summer ensemble, and then stepped out of the house into a fresh new day, a fresh new life, a fresh new beginning. As he put the key into the lock of his car, he took one last look at the old Ian in the window, "Don't screw it up this time," he told his reflection. Soon he was speeding down the road to the station. The station was filled with people leaving and arriving, making the picture of busy ants about their business. Would he recognize her? His eyes kept roaming about the hubbub and press of humanity. Once in a while, he was distracted by a particularly feminine wave of the hips, or shapely ass. Being an ass man himself, he usually never let a pretty girl pass unnoticed. One girl in particular caught his attention as she walked past. As his eyes followed her butt down the walk, he was startled from his leering reverie by a strange voice, "Daddy? It's me. Kayla." He swung around to see the owner of the sweet voice and found himself staring at a young woman, glowing smile, bright eyes, and long flowing blond hair cascading over her shoulders in wispy curls. He gasped! It was like his wife of years past standing before him. But no...it was Kayla, grown up and a spitting image of her mother. He stammered out a brisk, "K-Kayla, hello!" then both broke into hearty smiles and hugged in a long embrace. Minutes passed before they stood back and got a good look at each other. Ten years really changes a person, and both saw changes they expected to see but had to take in before they registered as real. "I can't believe it. My little Kayla has become a grown woman!" "Yes, silly," she giggled, "but I am still, and always will be, your little girl. Remember that." Ian began to relax as the first few moments passed and all seemed comfortable and pleasant. As usual, his worries were all in his head. Kayla had been a nervous wreck on the train, not knowing what to concentrate on or what she was going to say. She was glad her father was so relaxed and charming. He made her feel warm and welcome and she responded with a sense of calm and security, as though they had not spent the last ten years apart. At home she was shown her room and unpacked, Ian fixed a midday repast, and both sat down to eat. "Any wine, honey? I usually have a glass with meals." She nodded to a nice chardonnay. Finally full and able to kick back, they went out to the gazebo on the lake with their wine. "It's so beautiful, Daddy! Just like I remembered. I could stay here forever." Ian smiled, "You're welcome to stay as long as you like, honey. It will be nice having a bit of femininity to warm the place up a bit. Beats my hermit ways." "Well then," she laughed, "you'll be a hermit no longer, mon Pere." The clink of wineglasses sent a tinkling echo over the still water. Days passed without incident as the two came to know each other better and grew more comfortable with their new circumstances. Ian had to get used to walking about the house fully clothed, though still sleeping in the nude. Kayla had to get used to making sure she had a towel wrapped around her as she went from the shower to her room, something that she hadn't worried about while living in a girl's school. Like her father, she slept also in the nude. One morning Ian rose and went to the kitchen in his usual t-shirt and briefs and began to scramble some eggs for breakfast. Kayla arrived shortly thereafter unnoticed by her father and sat down musing upon the scene presented. With a smile she said, "Fixing me some too?" Ian, suddenly waking from his morning grogginess, turned beet red and grabbed a dish towel to cover himself, making the scene only more comical. "I'm sorry, honey. I promise it won't happen again," he pleaded as he tried to find a decent way out of his predicament. When she finally stopped laughing, she suggested that she would be a sorry daughter indeed if her own father couldn't walk around the house in comfortable briefs. Not looking convinced, she told him he could put some shorts on and she could finish the eggs. During breakfast she assured him there was no harm in his "less-than-clothed" condition, that he shouldn't be ashamed, and that she had seen men totally unclothed on the nude beaches in France. "No big deal!" Before she washed the dishes, she gave him a hug and simply put the matter to rest by yanking his shorts down to his ankles and dispensing with them. "There, mon Pere, that's more comfortable," and that was the end of the matter. At least for the time being. Three mornings later, Kayla decided fair was only fair, and put on a French negligee consisting of a pink silk bra with a flower print and silk thong to match. Over this she donned a lace camisole blouse that tied in the front. Looking in the mirror she exclaimed, "Well that's that," and walked into the kitchen and started fixing breakfast. Ian, by this time, had become used to parading around in his briefs, and came around the corner to this new situation unexpectedly. He stood quietly in the doorway to the kitchen taking it all in. The sight of his daughter brought home to him that she was not only grown up, but a mature and beautiful sexual creature. His eyes wandered up and down her physique, tracing the feminine lines so ably presented to him. She finally finished scrambling the eggs and turned around to see him standing there. "Oh, you're up, Daddy," she smiled as her eyes were diverted downward to his much swollen briefs, then added, "In more ways than one." Ian took a brief second to collect his thoughts. He didn't intend to become a laughingstock again, and nonchalantly began, "Kayla, we have to come to an understanding. We are two adults living in the same house. We can't spend our days hiding from each other and scurrying about covering ourselves up. It's a waste of time, and quite frankly, uncomfortable." Kayla raised an eyebrow, wondering where his line of reasoning was going to go, fully realizing that he was desperately trying to worm his way out of another compromising situation. "Go on then. What are you proposing?" she asked, trying not to look amused. "All I'm saying is we shouldn't be embarrassed every time we walk in on each other. I mean it's bound to happen. Let's not sweat it." Finally she could hold back no longer and began to laugh. "Father dear," she giggled, having fun at his expense, "I think the only one sweating here is you." Her eyes returned to his crotch and she made no secret about what she was referring to. "I am happy to walk around the house butt naked, but if you're going to get a boner every time you see me, that might be a little uncomfortable for the both of us." Ian sank into a kitchen chair, coloring slightly, "Well, you have a point there, but look at it this way. It's just an act of nature. It will come and go, rise and fall...like the tides, like the seasons. It's not like I'm going to seduce my own daughter! Besides, when I look at you that way, I just can't help it." This was just too good for Kayla to pass up, "And exactly what way are you looking at me, Daddy?" Ian realized at this point he had to change tack, as he was obviously only digging himself in deeper and deeper. He drew in a long breath and decided the truth was now his only choice, "Come now. Look at yourself. Young, beautiful, fit..." "And? ..." she was mercilessly driving him to say it. "Okay, okay ... sexy!" and there it was. He had said it, and said it to his own daughter. He had looked at her as an object of lust, and it both disturbed and embarrassed him. "I'm sorry, honey, I've spoken out of line and I apologize." "Don't," she replied, deciding his discomfort had been carried too far, and reassuringly, "As you said, it's just an act of nature. Expected under the circumstances. Don't worry. I agree to your proposal." With that she took the plate of scrambled eggs, of which she had eaten half during his proposal, and put it on the table. Kissing her father's head, she smiled and said, "Je t'aime, mon Pere," and left the room. Late summer drifted into early fall. Tensions relaxed somewhat after the "skimpy clothing proposition" was made. Kayla began to clean and run the household more. She felt it was the least she could do as she didn't have employment and her father was independently wealthy. This freed up time for Ian to work more in his music studio, but inspiration was still in short supply. One day she was picking up clothes around the house and found a t-shirt wadded up in the corner of the studio. It had been laying there awhile as it had a thin layer of dust on it. She picked it up and shook the dust off and draped it over her arm. Noticing some odd stains on the front, she held it up to the light to see. It didn't take an Einstein to realize what she was looking at. She thought of her father up in his studio overlooking the beautiful landscape of the Berkshires, lonely and masturbating. She would have to spend more time with him, taking his mind off his isolation up here in the hills. That night she fixed a homemade dinner with wine and set up a table in the cool evening breeze under the gazebo overlooking the lake. As accepted in the proposition she dressed comfortably, and a bit provocatively, in a white, sheer silk blouse, no bra, and a pair of navy blue panties. Just because there was no danger of seduction, didn't mean she couldn't give him a show. Ian had gone into town to buy some new strings for one of his guitars and on his return was surprised to see the spread under the gazebo. Kayla had put a lot of effort into the meal and he would make sure to be extra appreciative. He sat down by the lake and breathed in the early autumn smell of leaves and cedar scented breezes presaging the colder weather to come. Then he spied his daughter walking from the house with a tray full of appetizers. Ian could only stare, mesmerized by his little girl's beauty and grace. She lowered her eyes demurely as she walked gracefully across the lawn like she had been taught in finishing school. The panties shimmered an iridescent midnight blue beneath the non-concealing blouse, and as the cool breezes ruffled the sheer fabric above, her nipples stood erect and hard for her father to contemplate...and contemplate he did! As per their agreement, nothing was said, and a pleasurable night of French wine and cuisine, accompanied by laughter and conversation permeated the evening. Early on, Ian had to quickly adjust his penis while Kayla's back was turned, as it was growing uncomfortable hemmed up in his pants. Once it was erect and pointing upwards, the discomfort disappeared. Finally, with the meal finished and the night coming on, she asked him to slow dance to some music she had piped from the house. At first he was reluctant, but she insisted. On coming together in a waltz embrace, she felt his hardness against her stomach. She felt complimented that she could elicit this reaction from her own father. She smiled, almost purring, and whispered softly into his ear, "Act of nature..." and nestled her face into his shoulder. A perfect night, she thought to herself. Before bed they cleaned up the table and washed dishes, Kayla humming and bouncing around the kitchen, and Ian staring most of the evening at her nipples and bottom. She kissed him goodnight and went to bed. He went up to his studio and booted up the computer. Having been erect and horny since dinner had been served, he could never have slept without relieving his tensions. Several free sites portrayed their wares before his eyes, but he was particularly taken by a teenage beauty bearing many similar traits to his daughter, nice full bosom, petite stature, tight curvy bottom, and long, flowing blond hair that cascaded down her back. It was one of those romantic videos with a lot of cuddling and kissing, but slowly, her clothes removed and flawless skin revealed, the action grew more and more heated. His penis, already hard from dinner, was straining against the steady stroking of his hand. And then he heard the quiet footfalls on the stair. Ian was not the only person in the house to be influenced sexually by the evening's events. Kayla had an internal fire burning. She was not put off by her father's erect condition that evening. As a matter of fact, she found it quite stimulating and, during the slow dancing, had been aroused by his hardness. As she melted in his arms, his cock had commenced a slow, gentle contact with her tummy, and the effect had caused her panties to moisten over the crotch. By the time the dance was finished, and they had looked into each other's eyes in the silvery full moonlight, not only were her panties soaked, but her juices were dribbling down her thighs. Needless to say, she found she was unable to sleep, and found herself silently making her way to his studio. When he heard her footfall, he had to make a quick decision to either cover himself and make the best of the situation, or go on with his fantasy. He decided to continue simply because he had to be himself and not live a life hiding his desires and accumulated tensions from someone who lived so closely to his situation. If she were to be upset about it, she had the freedom to leave the room. He would not force anything upon her. When Kayla reached the top of the stairs, the site awaiting her was expected and appreciated. She would not interrupt his well-deserved reverie. In fact, seeing him stroking himself to a sex video set her juices flowing again. She couldn't take her eyes off his cock which was beginning to jerk and tighten even more. It was so long and straight, she could not help but admire the fine specimen of manhood displayed by her own father. In fact, she held a guilty pride in surveying it, from the tip of the head from which pre-cum juices were dribbling and aiding the lubrication of the shaft, to his balls which were pendulating with every thrust. Ian, aware that his daughter was eyeing him closely, and Kayla, not thinking he knew she was there, made for an interesting combination. She began running her thin fingers down her belly, into the top of her soaked panties, and to the warm, wet curls between her legs. As he grew nearer to orgasm he began to eye the computer action more intently and to forget the extra presence in the room. Rising to a climax, a low elongated groan came involuntarily from deep inside, "Kaaaaaaay-laaaaaa!" Thick long ropes of creamy sperm ejected from the tip of his cock like a volcanic explosion! It was amazing to observe, but Kayla was visibly shaken by the name he had attached to his sexual fantasy. She turned and hurried quietly down the spiraling staircase, jumping into her bed and pulling the covers over her as if hiding. Ian, on the other hand, shaken from the forces he had unleashed, took a few minutes to recover before realizing his utterance had revealed his true longing for his daughter. He spun around to make sure she was still there so he could apologize, but she had disappeared. "Well what is spoken can never be unspoken," he muttered to himself as he descended the stairs to comfort his daughter below, but when he peaked in the door of her bedroom, he saw that she had completely covered her naked and shaken body and was pretending to sleep. He went to bed also, but was unable to sleep for a long time, worrying what tomorrow may bring. The morning quiet about the house could be cut with a knife. Neither Kayla, nor Ian, was quite sure how to broach the topic of all that had occurred the night before. Kayla wanted so much to apologize for being such a tease by wearing the outfit she had so totally flaunted before him. Ian wanted to explain his actions and utterances while masturbating before a screen displaying a girl so similar to his daughter. The disconcerting and incestuous overtones of the whole evening kept them from breaking the ice. Kayla walked down the driveway to pick up the morning paper and sat down at the kitchen table to peruse the apartment rental ads. Kayla's Serenade Ian looked on helpless, not wanting her to leave, but having no right, after the previous night's escapade, to keep her there. She knew she couldn't stay after how she had so brazenly exhibited herself, causing him to fantasize about her. It was not healthy, and it was improper in the extreme. He kept kicking himself for being so stupid and letting his balls get the better of his brain. After what seemed an eternity, she looked up from the ads and their eyes met. Her's were streaming with tears, and his were almost to the point of flowing too. He ran to his studio and shut the door behind him, not to come down until evening had fallen. She plodded around the house for a while, then went back to bed, crying for hours. So much for her first night's wish that she could stay there forever. Things slowly settled down to an acceptable routine. She didn't leave, and he spent most of his waking hours in his studio. While not so overwhelmed by sadness, they were far from happy. Ian began to formulate a song from ideas planted by the sadness of parting, and the loneliness such an event brings. Tentative at first, it began to take on a life of its own, beginning to compose itself out of the strong impulses emanating from a near broken heart. Kayla began to roam the hills, sketching the wildlife, and seeking the comfort and solitude of nature. A fortnight passed, uneventful and calm, and then one evening storm clouds began to gather to the west. It had been an Indian summer day, warmer than usual, and now contending with cooler air sauntering in from the northwest. A perfect recipe for a stormy night. Kayla had been eyeing the sky with trepidation. She didn't like violent storms. After dinner they both bid each other good night and went to their bedrooms to strip down to their skin and crawl under the covers. Then it hit. Great rumblings of thunder in the distant hills, growing closer and closer, until the sky opened up to flashing bolts of lightning and deafening thunderclaps that shook the house. Ian was just beginning to wake to the commotion when suddenly Kayla came barreling down the hallway screaming in terror, straight through his bedroom door and under the covers. She was trembling, and every clap of thunder made her burrow down deeper beneath the covers and into his protecting arms. While he was reminded of the old days when she would crawl into his arms during storms, he realized that the old days didn't involve a grown woman trying to fit into the same space. To make it worse, they both were totally without clothing. While the tempest outside took on frightening proportions, Ian was at a loss to control the situation. Kayla had glued herself to him like spoons in a drawer and his cock was beginning to harden, growing up the crack in her buttocks. When it was elongated and rock hard, wedged between his daughter's beautiful ass cheeks, Ian decided it had gone too far, and began to tell his daughter so, but as soon as he began to speak, she yelled, "Shut the fuck up, goddamnit!" grabbing his hand and wrapping his arm around her torso and between her breasts. She was shivering from fright and he could not but feel sympathy for her fear, so he allowed the situation to continue, though he wasn't sure how long he could cope with his dick straining against her round, tight, well-toned butt. Every thunderclap brought a fresh tightening around Ian's penis, and her heavy, uncontrolled breathing squeezed his hand with every gasp between her full bosoms. His dick was wedged tightly between her irresistible and well-defined muscular ass cheeks which quivered with small muscle spasms every time there was a fresh salvo of thunder and lightning. His nose was nestled into the signature curls of her blonde hair which exuded the scent of trepidation and youthful pheromones. Trying desperately not to give in to his sexual impulses, Ian gritted his teeth against the inevitable climax building up and churning deep within his groin. Suddenly his balls felt as if they were catching fire. His cock then stretched and strained against its maximum capacity to handle, and the rumbling began to rise up from his loins and into his swollen shaft and sent an explosive geyser of cum up his daughter's back. As this was happening, a series of lightning bolts lit up the sky like fireworks, causing Ian's penis to be repeatedly squeezed and milked by Kayla's ass cheeks as they clamped tight around him with each fresh explosion of thunder. Stream after stream of cum was wrested from him until there was nothing but creamy white sperm filling the space between them. When the storm finally receded into the distant landscape, Ian began to realize what he had done with his daughter in his arms. He began to rise but was held solidly by Kayla's firm grip lodging his hand between her breasts. She had fallen quiet and was actually asleep in his protective embrace, a hint of a smile upon her placid face. Ian slowly drifted into a deep and satisfied slumber also, realizing tomorrow was another day and the two of them would work out the situation as best they could. The morrow was woken by an early and incomparable October sunrise, the rising orb brilliantly shining, the impurities in the air washed away by the previous night's storm. Ian, on the other hand, was woken from his slumber by Kayla's singing in the kitchen. Breakfast was usually fixed by the first to rise and she had risen long before the sun, first showering, then going about her morning preparations. She was filled with a giddiness that seemed expansive and contagious. Ian rose and also showered, washing away the messiness of the previous night, smiling at what had occurred, seemingly to no great detriment, as was evident by Kayla's happy ditties which pervaded the morning hours. In fact, Kayla, dressed in a short t-shirt and cotton panties which revealed her abdomen and navel so deliciously, was elated by the results of a night spent in her father's arms. "I hope you slept well, Daddy?" she asked as he entered the kitchen. Omelets were frying and being turned by her deft hands, while bacon was sizzling in a skillet. "Thank you, Daddy, for comforting me in the storm. I guess they still frighten me after all these years." She walked up to him and planted a kiss on his lips, lingering a fraction of a second longer than would have seemed proper under the circumstances and giving him a hug, planting one hand ever-so-slightly lower than usual, and eliciting the now familiar tightening in his briefs, for he, like she, was dressed only in t-shirt and cotton briefs. Long was the morning, filled with pleasant conversation and furtive glances at each other's appealing attributes. They seem to have finally broken through an impasse and were ready to coexist by a new standard of mutual respect and closeness which, while not quite based on coital consummation, was one that they could both live with and accept. The song that Ian had been composing took a new turn, veering from desperation and loss and loneliness, to hope and fulfillment and future happiness. He had left sadness behind him in this new atmosphere of unencumbered closeness. Often when the lights were out, and both had been asleep for a while, Kayla would wake and tiptoe into her father's bedroom like a little child, and crawl under the covers with him. Then would follow a slow and steady rhythmic dance of buttocks and penis as they spooned themselves to the same warm, messy conclusion of that stormy night. The nights grew colder and the cuddling grew warmer, both realizing that they had gone as far as moral strictures would allow, and both feeling a mutual acceptance of the status quo. One frosty-edged morning in late November, Ian had risen before Kayla after one such playful night and was fixing breakfast when she came into the kitchen in a wispy musing sort of way. The nights were getting longer and colder and the cuddling was as close as you could manage without melting one into the other. On the table was an invitation addressed to Ian from the club manager of "Berkshire Studio 7," a place where artists go to be discovered and try out new acts before industry types and fans. Ian had played there times before, and in fact, was first discovered there. Kayla grew very excited when she saw it. She had only remembered her father performing when she was a small child and here was an opportunity to see him again in his true singer/songwriter element. "Are you going to accept the invite?" she asked expectantly. "That's up to you," he replied with a sly grin. "What do you mean, mon Pere?" "Well, honey, what I mean is that I've been writing a song for you, and I sent a copy of it to Stu Billings, the manager of the club, asking if he'd mind me previewing it there. He seemed quite enthused by the idea. It's called Kayla's Serenade and seeing that it's yours, you should make the decision whether or not I should accept the invitation." Kayla's eyes grew teary and her voice faltered from the emotions she was feeling. "Of course, Daddy, but only under one condition." "And what's that, dear?" "That you just call it Serenade. We can keep the original title to ourselves, like our nights together." "Done!" he replied. "I'll call Stu after breakfast. I'll be on this Friday. I assume you're not previously engaged," he said, grinning again. "No," she replied, smiling demurely, "I'll make some time in my busy schedule." The next few days seemed like an eternity to Kayla. Sometimes she would pace about the house, wondering what the song sounded like. She could only hear muffled murmurings through the soundproof walls of the studio above. Ian, on the other hand, was in his true element, editing and perfecting, wanting to create a piece both remarkable and enduring for his daughter. Finally, Friday had arrived, and a cold one it was! The thermometer had dipped well below freezing and the skies were darkening as if to snow. On the long drive to Berkshire Studio, snowflakes began to dust the landscape, turning the browning carpet of leaves to a frosted white. "Ah!" Kayla sighed, "The Berkshires are always most beautiful in the snow." She had worn a black silk dress that fell softly about her rounded shoulders and accentuated the lithe lines of her torso. Ian couldn't help but admire his daughter, thinking she might accrue more attention than he. Not that he minded. This night, after all, was hers. Upon arriving, Ian was surprised to see the parking lot so full. Stu was there to meet them at the door. "Well! This must be Kayla! Exquisite!" Stu was always the supreme complimentary host and well-wisher. It was no wonder he had been so successful over the years. The walls of the Studio were covered with signed photos of all the artists who had graced his small, but all-too-sought-after stage. Kayla wondered if her father's picture was somewhere among the multitude. "Who's the big attraction tonight?" Ian asked. "Not that I mind someone else getting the top billing. It just means more will hear my new song." Stu stopped in his tracks and turned to face Ian with a look of disbelief. "You are kidding, aren't you? Ian, my dear, you are the man tonight that everybody has risked a ride in a blizzard to see!" He turned, rolling his eyes and shaking his head. "You've been far too long a hermit in the hills, my dear! Don't let us down!" Kayla gave him one of her amused acknowledgements. Stu seemed to speak only in exclamation points. Ian eventually took the stage to gracious applause. His set consisted of ballads and songs from his younger days, songs that brought many a well-remembered sigh from members of his audience. Kayla couldn't help but to be impressed with the facility her father had of wrapping the audience around his stories and making them an intimate part of his music. She understood what had made him such a popular part of the culture he brought to life in his songs. Then he spoke of a song he had recently written, a serenade, a song to woo the heart of another. The room grew quiet, many wanting to see if he still possessed his old touch. He began with a simple acoustic run of notes on the guitar. So simple, even a beginning guitarist could master it in a few lessons, but so sweet it touched the souls of all in the room. The Studio took on a hushed atmosphere of expectation...and then came the flow of words, at once pensive and lyrical. They were asking the audience if they had experienced loss and sadness, asking in such an all-pervasive manner that immediately those in their seats could empathize. From the initial reaction he guided the listeners through the redemptive process of hope and renewal, expectation and fulfillment. But what struck the deepest chords was the devotion and love expressed in the lilting lyrics which fell so easily upon the ear and touched the heart so tenderly. Kayla was mesmerized...hypnotized by the emotions washing over her. She couldn't hold back her tears. She looked around at others in the room and their eyes also were moist. Such universal, deep-felt feelings flowed out of the music and lyrics that all were affected by them. And then, with the same acoustic run of notes that began the serenade, he brought it to a quiet and dissoluble end. Ian closed his eyes. For a few precious seconds no one wished to break the spell he had cast. Applause seemed almost rude. Then slowly, like the fretful falling of a new snow, a few hands came together, building one upon the other, until the whole room was awash in a deafening sound of gratitude and appreciation. He had given them a gift which no amount of applause could pay back. As if on an unspoken cue, the room rose to its feet. But Kayla was still sitting, unable to comprehend the emotions in the crowd, and the emotions within her heart. What was she feeling? She couldn't fathom, but she had never felt it before, filling her and flowing over. Her body trembled with the recognition of the power and depth of her father's words, especially when she realized those words were directed at her. Ian left the stage and walked to the table where Kayla was sitting, but the crowd was so thick about his person, he was held back from his destination. He wanted to hug his daughter, but they were held apart by the press of fans who had come to hear the legend, Ian O'Neal. Stu managed to wake Kayla from her little world and struggled through the crowd with her until she was once again by Ian's side. He also introduced Ian to a producer who was very interested in recording what he had heard, a comeback recording that would make the music world sit up and listen. Ian put up his hand as if to quiet him and explained that he would have to take it up with his new business manager. Then looking at his daughter, he said, "How about it, Kayla? Are you interested in the job?" "Uh, s-sure," she stuttered, still not quite comprehending the momentous breakthrough that her father had achieved with a single song. Her song. Her serenade. Kayla was in a daze for the remainder of the evening. This was a life that Ian had experienced so many times and he easily shed the effects of the praise and adulation. He refused to be overtaken by the headiness that such crowds can instill in the unsuspecting tyro. As they were leaving, Stu slipped a framed photograph into Kayla's hand. It was from the wall of the Studio. It was a picture of Ian O'Neal as a young man, performing at Berkshire Studio 7. Ian, in his self-effacing manner, had signed over his own face so that he was hardly recognizable, "Thank you, Stu, for everything, Ian." Sitting in the front table next to the stage, was a young woman who looked remarkably like Kayla. It was, of course, her mother. Sitting next to her was a small girl of four or five, looking up at the stage with the most enchanting and worshipping eyes...herself! The drive home was quiet and uneventful. Both Ian and Kayla were exhausted by the reaction from the crowd. The snow had begun to fall heavier, mixed with ice which crackled as it hit the windows of the car. Ian had turned on the heat as high as it could go, both to warm themselves as well as keep the ice from freezing on the windshield so the wipers could do their job. It looked like it was going to be a rough night. When the car pulled up to the house, the porch lights and everything else was dark. "Looks like the ice has taken the power out. Happens in storms like these," Ian said as they stepped out of the car. "Here. Take the keys and step inside. There's a flashlight just inside the door to the left. I'll get some firewood out of the woodshed. Looks like we're gonna need it tonight." Kayla retrieved the flashlight and went out to the woodshed to help her father gather some firewood and light the way back. It was bitter cold, and their breathing emitted clouds of vapor as they walked. The inside of the house had already grown cold from the lack of heat. Ian started a fire in the fireplace of the master bedroom. It crackled to life. Kayla had no intention of sleeping in her bedroom tonight, as it lacked a fireplace. Setting the picture Stu had given her on the side table, she sat her father down on the bed and, in the warmth of the flickering fire, with a steady gaze into her father's eyes, she began to slowly take off her clothes. First came off the hat, followed by her scarf and coat, and her shoes. Then, running her fingers up her thighs, she slowly raised the hem of her black dress up to her hips, and pulled down her smoky grey hose. Ian made no expression, sitting on the edge of the bed mesmerized by what was taking place before him. Kayla then reached behind her and undid the clip of her bra, sliding it off one arm and then the other, pulling it off without disturbing the dress, and dropping it to the floor. The black silk of her dress fell lazily against her breasts, falling like water over the erect nipples, for she was percolating inside with an intensity she could hardly contain. Then, sliding the thin straps from her shoulders, she let the silk fall soundlessly to the floor, revealing herself to her father's longing eyes. Ian rose from the bed and picked up his daughter and laid her down. In all their moments of closeness and cuddling, he had never actually stared at her in her full nakedness. He began himself to undress before her, one piece at a time, until he pulled down his briefs, revealing a hard and erect penis aching to be free. As he stood before her, his cock stood almost straight up. In the dancing light she could see it silhouetted against the flickering fire. Then he laid himself down beside her. There would be no talking tonight, no discussions of relationships or guilt, right or wrong. An unspoken truth pervaded the room; both wanted this, eyes wide open, bodies communicating their unutterable needs for each other. His dick rubbed against her, leaving traces of pre-cum glistening on her rounded hip, and he gazed down on his little girl all grown up now, while she looked deeply into his eyes...into his soul. The firelight danced about the room with an amber kaleidoscopic effect, bathing Kayla's perfect tits in an ambient honey-like glow, so sweet Ian could taste them. "You can touch them," she said. He could see by the hardness of her nipples, that they were desiring his touch, his firm grasp, his lips. They were so absolutely perfect; his hand trembled as he closed it around one of her boobs. It felt so soft, so firm and pliant. He had to kiss the nipple. Running his tongue in circles around her nipples made them grow even harder and more erect. Ian slowly began to lose control as his lips could not help but weave a pathway down from the nipples to her stomach. She giggled as he penetrated her navel with his moist and searching tongue, eager to search further. Then a long and heartfelt moan was heard from her lips as his mouth began its exploration of her abdomen and winsome blonde curls covering the delta of her desire, leading the searcher lower until his head was nestled between her thighs. He breathed into his nostrils, just a fraction of an inch from her clitoris, the scent of his daughter's sexual desire. Exhaling and inhaling, he warmed and teased her pubic mound, until she was writhing beneath him with her urging desire to be satisfied. Kayla's Serenade He rose from her mound to a position covering her body with his, like the cosmological sky covering mother earth, and, with a long and deep-felt kiss upon her lips, he thrust himself home, deep into her waiting cunny, warm and wet with a longing she could not contain. Long sighs of passion and consummation escaped their lovemaking as he thrust himself repeatedly in and out of her waiting pussy. It was not the fiery pounding of passionate fucking, but a slow, steady, rhythmic lovemaking of two souls meeting as one in their desire for each other. Time was suspended as they forgot all the sensual context of their lives, giving themselves up to the timeless moment and loving passion for each other. Slowly he would withdraw his cock from her hot and delicious cunt, only to plunge its full length back into her up to its very hilt, slowly drawing it upward as he again withdrew, to tease her clit, bringing her to the brink of orgasm. The logs in the fire consumed themselves into a deep mound of glowing embers, casting a soft, caressing, crimson glow about the room. The fire in the hearts of the two lovers, however, grew hotter and brighter. Their close and intimate rhythm became more heated and rapid, until a consummate desire drove their copulation to a furious pace. Suddenly Ian was seized by the inexorable urge to cum. He wrapped his arms around his daughter's waist and held her as if he would never let her go. Kayla grasped his butt and dug her fingers into his flesh to make sure that it was impossible for him to withdraw himself from her burning cunt. This brought the fiery miracle of coitus as he exploded inside of his girl's vagina. She, at the same moment, was gripped by an intense orgasm that wrought spasms throughout her frame, exciting him to a greater degree of ejaculation than he had ever experienced. In moments, her pussy was saturated with his rich, milky, deliciously creamy sperm, which filled her pussy and flowed out between her thighs, leaving them both sticky, wet, and humping to their final throes of release. The dual orgasm never seemed to end, until finally their overwhelming passion slowly subsided like the fire to glowing embers, emitting a generous heat in the aftermath of sensual, sexual consummation. Neither of them moved for long after their consummation. Ian eventually withdrew as his member diminished in size, and he nestled his nose into Kayla's curls all about her neck, and slept. Kayla, filled and fulfilled in their act of love for each other, stroked her father's silvery locks of temple hair and, nuzzling her cheek against his, whispered oh so quietly and tenderly into his ear, "Je t'aime, mon Pere."