13 comments/ 142332 views/ 135 favorites The Unintended Incident By: PrevertedMe Tom Gill slipped his sedan into park then grabbed his gym bag from the trunk and trotted up the stairs to the front door. "Hey Honey, you home?" He called out, tossing the bag into the laundry room. He already knew the answer. And that he would not be getting any response. He could hear music coming from his daughter's bedroom, its volume keeping her from hearing him. At the little bar that set against one of the living room's walls he poured himself a drink. With glass in hand he headed down the hall. He stood outside his daughter's room for a minute, mentally steeling himself for what he expected to find on the other side of the door. "Hey Missy," he called, knocking at the door. "You decent? Can I come in?" The music quieted and the door swung open. A sudden surge of mixed emotions coursed through Tom. His nineteen-year-old daughter stood in the doorway wearing a fuzzy, pink sweater that clung to the curves of her full c-cup breasts while leaving her lower abdomen completely bare. As if the revealing sweater wasn't enough, her pleated skirt hung down just enough to cover only the very tops of her thighs. These were the things that first registered in Tom's mind. The kind of things that caused single fathers to have sleepless nights. These sorts of clothes. The kind their little girls wore when they grew up. The skimpy outfits that flaunted their womanly bodies. The provocative outfits that Missy had been wearing more and more of lately. But then he looked into her eyes and all he saw was his little girl again. Even if those large daddy-melters were presently adorned by a light coating of eye shadow and mascara, they were still the sparkling brown pools he had floundered in for years. Between the limpid pools sat a delicate little nose. And below that, a set of graceful lips painted a muted red. Surrounding these soft features was her auburn hair; loose and flippant, hanging just past her shoulders. This view, and the consequential tug at his heartstrings, conflicted with Tom's first emotions. They reminded him of how he wanted to protect her, to shelter her from the bad parts of the world. "Hey Honey," he sighed. "Plans tonight?" "Yes, Dad." Missy answered with a tone that conveyed the question was silly. "When?" "Christy and Amber'll be here in about an hour." "Then you've got time to talk for a few?" "I guess," she shrugged. "Let me finish my make-up and I'll be out." "I'll get you a soda," Tom volunteered. Walking back down the hall he heard the bedroom door shut behind him. In the kitchen Tom dropped a couple ice cubes into a glass then poured soda over them. The collection of tormented thoughts filling his mind mirrored the dark liquid's violent swirling and hissing bubbles. He didn't want Missy going out again tonight. Not again. He just wanted to spend one evening not worrying about where she was . . . or what she was doing. For over six years Tom had been a single parent, ever since the day Missy's mother had decided she missed her youth and took off. At first Missy and him had bonded over their shared betrayal. But as the years passed Missy pulled away, growing more independent and expanding her circle of friends. A few months before graduating high school she'd started staying out way too late and Tom's restless nights had begun. Now mere weeks away from starting college, she went out every night and came home at all hours of the morning, sometimes in obviously impaired states. I just wish she'd stay home one night. Tom thought, jabbing a straw into the soda filled glass. The stress of it was wearing on him, with his daily trips to the gym possibly the only thing keeping him from snapping. He had talked her into attending the local college so that she could live at home, saving him some on the expenses. But with the way things were he had to wonder if this was a good idea. He already felt like a prisoner to his situation, always worrying and waiting for her to get home. Maybe it would be better if Missy was away, living in a dorm, so that he wouldn't have her disruptive antics constantly thrown in his face. I don't know, he thought, turning to leave the kitchen. That was when he noticed the bottle of prescription sleeping pills setting on the counter. During his annual physical a couple months earlier the doctor had prescribed them in response to his stress. The bottle's image caused him to instantly formulate an idea. An idea that he immediately pushed aside due to its immorality. But one that obstinately resurfaced. At least I'd know she was safe, he heard himself thinking. And I could spend one night at peace. This argument was enough to make him hesitate on his path from the kitchen. No! It wouldn't be right, he argued with himself. But then, even as that argument was forming, he saw his hand reaching for the prescription bottle. His body ignored his mind as he snapped the lid off and dropped a pill onto the counter. Using utensils he smashed it into a fine powder that he poured into Missy's soda. Stirring it he made the powder disappear. He had barely set the glass on the coffee table when Missy appeared. Any addition to her make-up was imperceptible. In her hand she carried a pair of strappy high heel shoes, obviously intending to where them out, but not wanting to put them on just yet. This meant that his 6 foot frame still towered over her by more than 6 inches when they hugged, his strong arms wrapping around her and affectionately squeezing her demure body to him for a minute. Sitting in one of the easy chairs she set the shoes on the floor and took a long sip of her soda. Tom stepped over to the bar and added some bourbon and an ice cube to his glass. "College starts in a few weeks," he mentioned as a conversation starter. "You got all your books?" "Yea. Me and Christy went yesterday and got the last couple." "Good." He took a seat in the other easy chair, glass in hand. "How was work today?" Missy took another sip of her soda. "Okay. There was a moment of near panic when someone thought we'd missed something on an important calculation." He watched her take another sip and he suddenly realized that he had no way of knowing if, or when, the pills would kick-in. Nor how they would affect Missy. He had acted without calculating, just smashing up the pill and dumping it into her soda without trying to figure out how much he actually needed. Now a series of questions presented themselves. Would the soda's caffeine counter the pill's meditative qualities? Had he given her enough? Too much? What would happen if it didn't kick-in until she was out and had a drink or two? "Any special plans tonight? Or just hanging with friends?" He asked her, trying to mask the panic starting to boil up inside him. I've got a good 95 pounds on her and one of them can hit me in like 20 minutes, he silently told himself while barely hearing her answer. But then I don't drink a lot of caffeine and usually have a drink before taking them. "What about you, Daddy? You doing anything tonight?" "No, Baby. I'm just gonna sit at home and watch a movie." He sipped at his drink and stared at her, trying to discern any sign of the pill's effects beginning. "Poor Daddy," she offered. "Such a boring life." "It's not all boring. You provide it with a sense of excitement," he grinned. "Waiting up for you. Worrying." "Oh Daddy," she brushed the comment aside. "I've told you, you don't have to worry about me . . ." the sentenced trailed off as Missy's mouth opened in a deep yawn. Tom's heart leapt and his breath caught. "Yea, well, I've told you Honey, it's my job to worry about you," he said, then stifled his own reactionary yawn. "I know. You're such a good Daddy." Tom couldn't stop a pang of regret in response to this last statement and the obvious conflict with his most recent act. Missy took another sip of her soda. The glass was now nearly empty. "So unselfish . . ." she whispered as an afterthought. Sipping at his own drink Tom watched her set her glass down then partially snuggle into the corner of the chair. He saw her struggle with her eyelids as they grew heavy and tried to close. "I don't know what's . . ." she yawned again, "up, but I'm feeling really tired." "Maybe you should take a quick, ten minute nap," Tom suggested after reflexively yawning himself. "Yea, maybe . . ." she snuggled deeper into the chair's corner, her head leaning into it and resting as her eyes slowly closed. Within moments her breathing was light and steady. "Oh god," Tom sighed with a mixture of relief and conscience. He stared at her for a long minute, once more seeing only his precious little girl in her relaxed features. But his revelry was soon interrupted by the unmistakable chirping of her cell phone. It lay on the coffee table next to her drugged soda, its face beaming brightly in response to having just received a text message. Shit! Christy. His daughter's friends were another piece of the plan he had failed to think through. They would be arriving soon to pick her up. In fact the text was probably telling her that very fact. Grabbing the phone he typed in the code that unlocked it, thankful for having insisted she let him know it. Sure enough, he'd guessed right, the text was from Christy and it said she'd be there in about 10 minutes. It took Tom a minute to figure out a course of action, but once he did he didn't hesitate in talking it. He hit reply then began typing. 'This is Missy's dad. She is very sick and won't be going out tonight. Please leave her alone and let her sleep.' After hitting send he waited for a response. Add lying to tonight's list of transgressions. It didn't take long for a simple 'OK' to pop up. Certain that her friends would continue texting her, and not wanting the phone's insistent chirping to wake her, he shut it off. Then he poured himself a fresh drink and turned on the television. He soon got interested in a movie, forgetting any qualms about his actions. In his peripheral vision he saw Missy sleeping in the chair, but paid her little attention, simply content in the knowledge that she was there and not out gallivanting through the night. When the movie ended he went into the kitchen and got himself a glass of water. Commercials were still occupying the television when he returned so he absently strolled over to look down at his daughter's sleeping form. She had twisted around and was curled up in the chair with her legs under her. Her head rested on the arm. At first he just smiled down at her angelic face, feeling the usual parental pride. But then his eyes wandered. It was an unconscious act, but it happened. His gaze drifted down away from her face until he was staring at the firm swell of her breasts straining against the fuzzy, pink sweater. From the smoothness of their outline he could tell she wasn't wearing a bra, a fact that made him acutely aware of just how firm the mounds were. That was when his mind wandered to a weird place. A place where he imagined how they would feel if he were to cup and fondle them. A place where he wondered about her nipples, their size and shape. Their color. What the . . .? He mentally slapped himself when he realized what he was doing. Pulling away he moved over to his chair and sat down. He tried to figure out what the hell had just happened, why had his gaze roamed over her like that, and why had his thoughts . . . gone . . . THERE? Another movie started and he turned his attention to it. But it proved less than interesting and his gaze kept wandering back across the room to Missy. When he realized this he tried to concentrate on her face, but his gaze kept shifting. He found himself looking at her bare stomach and legs. Like a lot of girls her age Missy had a soft body without any extra weight. And the outfits she wore, like tonight's skirt and sweater, displayed her body, enhancing her sensuality. This was a major factor in Tom's concern for her. He routinely caught himself looking at her peers with impure thoughts, so he knew what other males were thinking when they looked at her. How it would be to run my hands up under that skirt . . . The thought formed itself before he realized it was happening. Wait! What? He shook his head, again mentally chastising himself for allowing such a thought to even begin formulating. I guess it's been a while, he offered himself as an excuse. I'm gonna have to do something about that. What he meant was that he would beat-off in his bedroom to a private movie that night and then get a date sometime in the next week. Over the years he had made friends with a few ladies who were usually up for a date if they weren't involved with someone. It was just a matter of finding time with one that was presently single. With these thoughts in mind he turned back to the TV. But his attention was soon pulled away by Missy shifting in the chair. He quickly glanced over at her. His breath caught in his throat. She was now laying back into the chair rather than curling up in it, and her legs were no longer under her. Instead they hung over the edge, her knees slightly bent, her feet resting on the carpet. And they were spread open. Her already short skirt had ridden up too. Below it her white cotton panties were crisply molded to the curve and crown of her sex. Tom's eyes locked onto that view. Staring intently he instinctively memorized every miniscule detail of it. The way the pantie edges traced the slight indentations where her thighs met her pelvis. How her mound curved up from these lines into the delicate crown. The barely perceptible outline of her labia pressing at the crisp cotton material. And the way the panties dipped down between her legs, disappearing beneath her. Fuck. That . . . is . . . beautiful. He silently sighed. He continued to stare at his daughter's crotch for several moments, his heart racing as his eyes devoured the image again and again. He even grew convinced that he could make out the delicate outline of her feathery hairs through the panties. What the . . .? For the third time that evening he mentally slapped himself. Continuing to chastise himself he walked into the kitchen where he added water to his glass just so he'd have something to do. Standing at the counter he tried to make sense of what was happening. He couldn't believe his own actions. The way he was looking at his own daughter. And the thoughts running through his mind. "It's gotta be the stress," he told himself. "And I just really need a date. I'll call Angie tomorrow. Or Karen." With this decided he took a drink of his water before stepping back into the living room. A wave of relief rolled through him when he saw that Missy had once more shifted in the chair and was no longer displaying herself as she had been when he'd left the room. Instead she was turned partway on her side with her legs closed, her knees perched precariously on the edge of the chair. Her head was once more resting on the arm while her own left arm was tossed up across her face and her right was snuggled under her. Turning his attention to the TV he dropped into his chair. After a minute he glanced over at Missy. Again his breath caught. Sitting gave him a completely different view than when he had walked into the room. And while his initial relief remained intact, he couldn't help noticing the alluring vision her new position offered. The way her body was curved and balanced on the chair edge provided a tantalizing profile. The way her arm was thrown over her head pushed her chest out, making her firm breasts strain against the sweater even more than before. Below it her tummy and sides were smooth, her flesh shimmering. Her skirt was still riding up and now he could just see the bottom edge of one side to her panties where it curved around the very top of her thigh. From there her legs curled down and around, soft yet tone. And so delicate. Holy fuck. It's no wonder she's so popular, Tom thought with an odd mixture of parental pride and male lust that he couldn't suppress even though he knew he should. It was true though. Missy didn't lack admirers. And he knew, or more accurately he assumed, she wasn't a virgin either. She'd been too serious with too many boys over the years for one of them not to have talked his way into her pants. It was just something Tom had come to accept. This was his train of thought while his eyes continued to crawl over her. His gaze inched its way up and down her legs several times, admiring their delicate shape. At their top he stared at her disheveled skirt and the minimal glimpse of her panties it presently allowed. Her left arm shifted back a little, jutting her chest out slightly more, and his eyes crawled over the swell of her breasts as they gently rose and fell with her breathing. She shifted again, rolling forward a little to present the very bottom curve of one taunt asscheek from under her skirt. Okay. Okay. Wait just a minute here. What in the fuck am I doing sitting here looking at my daughter with these thoughts racing through my mind? This ain't right, damn it. She's my daughter. But even as he actively tried to shove the appreciative thoughts aside, they continued to thrust themselves to the forefront. Then Missy's arm dropped away from her face, uncovering her angelic features; her little mouth and delicate nose, her lightly shaded eyelids. All of it framed by her auburn hair, now messy and tousled as she slept. Shit. I need to put her to bed, he suddenly told himself. His intention was to protect her . . . from himself. The idea was to carry her to her bed then take his uncontrollably lecherous mind to his own room and "relieve some stress." Switching off the TV he stepped over to look down at her sleeping form once again. And once more his gaze spent several long moments crawling over her body, devouring her curves and soft edges. The thoughts about how it would be to touch her, to run his hands over her warm body, were quickly reawakened. He forced them aside, at least temporarily, with yet another mental slap across his face. Then he bent down and slipped his arms under her. Lifting her from the chair he cradled her in his arms. As her lithe body snuggled into him he felt the protective father in him reemerge and he carefully carried her down the hall and into her room. Laying her across the twin bed he gently pulled his arms out from under her. As he stood up Missy shifted around, rolling onto her back at an angle across the mattress. Tom froze, his heart leaping into his throat. The light from the hall was falling across her body as it lay angled across the bed, her head resting near the one side and her hair hanging over the edge. Her legs were tossed out, her ankles crossed and dangling over the opposite edge. Her skirt was just as disheveled as it had been in the living room, riding up and reveling the bottom portion of her crisp white panties. Her arms were splayed out to her sides, putting her chest on full display. It was this region that had caused Tom's heart to leap. Somehow her right breast had slipped out from under her little sweater. The compact mound jiggled imperceptibly while the portion of the sweater that was supposed to be covering it was piled above it, its minimalistic clump proof of its skimpiness. Tom stared down at the mound, hypnotized by its ripeness and its pink areola. Reflexively he reached out with the intention of slipping it back inside the sweater. In slow motion he saw his hand advancing toward his daughter's breast and for a second his moral compass made him hesitate. With his fingertips mere millimeters away from touching the creamy mound he questioned whether he should actually be doing this or not. In that brief pause he told himself that the skimpy sweater would likely prove unable to hold either breasts through the night, and so slipping it back under now would only be a temporary fix. The Unintended Incident Yet he didn't pull away. His hand hovered there, nearly touching the luscious mound. His eyes staring at it. His vision was filled by its creamy flesh and pert form, watching it subtly rise and fall with her breathing. Then it was in his hand. His fingers closed around the firm mound, cupping it tenderly. An intense, primal hunger stirred somewhere deep inside him. His fingers gently squeezed. A quiet sigh rose from Missy. Tom froze, this time with fear rather than shock. His eyes darted to his daughter's face, expecting to find her staring up at him accusingly. His mind raced in search of some explanation for him to be fondling her breast. But her eyes were closed. She hadn't woke. Tom released a sigh of relief. He told himself to hurry and slip the breast back into the sweater. But he didn't. Instead he gave it another loving squeeze. He knew it was wrong and that he shouldn't do it, but he couldn't help himself. It was just so nice and firm in his grasp. The nipple so soft and inviting. Then he squeezed it a third time and he slid his thumb up across the top and over the delicate areola. This time it was a quick little gasp that escaped his daughter's lips. Again he froze. And again he feared her catching him with his hand on her breast. And he still had no idea how he might possibly explain himself. But when he looked at her face again he still saw no sign of her waking. Although her lips were now slightly apart. This tiniest of openings captivated Tom and he stared at it as he gave her tit one more gentle squeeze. Missy's bottom lip quivered ever so indistinctly. Damn, that . . . is . . . hot. He thought, his heart racing. He continued to focus on her lips while his hand squeezed and fondled her breast a few more times. With each manipulation her lip quivered diminutively. Oh fuck yes. His mind growled. Then he pulled his gaze down to admire the breast cradled in his hand once more, appreciating its malleability while remaining so firm and compact. He looked at the areola, its marginally darker flesh having started to stiffen from the combination of his attentions and the cool air swirling over it. Where it had been a delicately smooth button moments ago, its tiny ridges were now distinct, its tip pronounced. It had been ages since Tom had touched such a youthful breast, so warm and inviting. The sight and the feel of it urged his primal hunger on and his hand grew heavier, hungrier in its manipulations. A heavy sigh slipped past Missy's lips. She shifted on the bed a little. He paused a moment. His eyes once more darted up to check, but this time he felt confident she still slept. As he expected her eyes remained closed. Turning his attention back to her chest he brought his thumb up to outline the edge of her areola, tracing the outer circle several times and brushing over her swelling nipple again and again. Then he brought his palm up and covered the mound's top, flattening the nipple beneath it as he squeezed. The sigh that escaped her parted lips was accompanied by a shift in her body, one that unconsciously offered herself to his attentions. Tom's hunger roared in its intensity. He felt his cock throb within his pants, felt something inside him nearly snap. He glanced up with only a cursory look to ensure she was still asleep. When he saw that she was, his hunger pushed him to a new level of debauchery. What the hell am I doing? He asked himself as he watched his free hand reach out and start to push her sweater up off her other breast as well. Then his vision was filled by the mound, its flesh as tantalizing as the first, its nipple already swelling. Oh god! His mind groaned with delight as his hand closed over and around the breast, squeezing it with the same need driving his right hand. Another heavy sigh slipped past Missy's delicate lips. Her head rolled back a little, demurely arching her chest up in offering. Oh god! What am I doing? What the fuck am I doing? He asked himself as he fondled both his daughter's pliant mounds. This is so wrong. So damn wrong. But it feels so good. So . . . damn . . . good. She is so beautiful. So hot. So damn hot. His mental argument raged on as his fingers continued their manipulations. The feel of her breasts in his hands fueled his hunger while the knowledge that they were his own daughter's fortified his shame. Still he didn't stop. He couldn't stop. He knew it was wrong, but he couldn't . . . wouldn't stop himself. Her breasts were so beautiful. So firm. So vital. His manipulations drew more sighs from her parted lips. My little girl, he nearly cried. How can I do this? In that moment he almost wished she would wake up. That she would open her eyes and glare at him with anger and shock. That she would chase him away, cursing him as he retreated from the room and her young body, so vibrant and tempting. But he also hoped that she wouldn't. That she would remain asleep, blissfully ignorant of his continued actions. He hoped this even though he suspected that his fondling of her breasts was merely a prelude to things to come . . . things he would be doing . . . things that he most definitely should not. As if in confirmation his cock throbbed angrily within his pants. As Tom's manipulations of her breasts continued, her nipples swelled. Soon they stood out; hard and erect. He took each of the inflamed nubs between a finger and thumb and gently tugged while simultaneously twirling them. This drew a quiet whimper from the sleeping girl. After tweaking the nipples a couple more times he cupped the tops of her tits once more and his fingers tensed, squeezing the mounds hungrily. Then his hands slipped down to their sides again to continue cupping and fondling them. Until now he had been standing next to the bed, resting his legs against it and leaning over to play with her breasts. But his hunger was driving him onward, making him want more . . . urging him toward the next step. Lifting a knee onto the bed he set his elbows down on either side of Missy. This allowed him to hover over her. But it also made the bed shift and Missy's body shifted in response, her head rolling toward him. Oh shit! Tom froze, this time certain that she had woke. With his heart racing he raised his gaze to her face. Her lips were parted a little more and he could now just see the very bottom edge of her front teeth behind her upper lip. Her eyelids, while still closed, fluttered slightly in unwitting animation. He watched her for a minute, waiting for her eyes to actually open. When they didn't he gave her tits a gentle squeeze. His cock jumped in his pants as her bottom lip quivered in response. Keeping her face in view by looking through the tops of his eyes he leaned down toward the nearest breast. When he was about an inch away he struck out his tongue and swiped it over her swollen nipple. Her lip's responsive quiver was more pronounced than before. Urged on by this he swirled his tongue over and around the nipple, gently lapping at it again and again. Mesmerized, he watched her lip quiver spastically while she inhaled sharply and her eyes fluttered excitedly. A moment later he lowered his mouth over the nipple and suckled. A needy sigh slipped past Missy's quivering lip as she arched her back, lifting her chest to him. His eyes never left her face as he suckled at her tit for several moments, his hands fondling the pair of orbs with ever hungrier fingers. While these attentions didn't seem to bring Missy any nearer to waking, they did elicit other responses from her. Along with her heated sighs, quivering lip, and fluttering lids, she shifting beneath him. Her body began moving restlessly while continuing to offer herself up to him. Her legs scissored across the bed, slipping back and forth as her body squirmed under him. From between her parted lips came heavy panting and deep sighs. Their positions meant that he couldn't comfortably continue to stare at her face when he moved to suckle on her other tit. Instead he watched the mound he had just been suckling on being molded and shaped by his plying fingers. Atop it her erect nipple glistened in the soft glow from the hall. She responded to his mouth on this breast in much the same fashion as the first. After a moment he pulled away, raising up to look down on her beauty again; staring at her breasts in his hands, watching her quivering lip and fluttering eyelids. Then his eyes crept down her body. Her abs shimmered with a thin sheen of sweat. Tom stared at these for a moment, mesmerized by their softness and the dark recess in their creamy, glistening center that was her bellybutton. Then his eyes moved further down. Her legs had scissored themselves partway open, with the knee closest to him perched at the bed's edge, inches away from bending over it. Her skirt had ridden up and was piled at her hips. Below it her white panties still tightly hugged the crown of her sex. Oh shit! Tom's breath caught. At the center of that tantalizing crown a dark spot was beginning to compromise the crispness of her panties. At the moment it was still a small spot, but it was there. Oh man, he silently growled, his hunger being stoked. Once more he felt something inside him near its breaking point. His clothes suddenly felt very restrictive. He tore at his shirt's buttons, yanking it from his shoulders and throwing it aside. Then he reached for his belt. No! Not that! He stopped himself just before unhooking it. I'm not going to . . . He didn't finish the thought. He didn't want to. At this point he no longer had a clue as to his intensions when he'd first started fondling his daughter. But he insisted that he would stop with her breasts. That he would leave her alone after just a few more minutes of reveling in their vitality. He was still convinced he could do that. That he could stop himself from committing the ultimate incestual act. Yet the image of her panties' damp spot made him seethe with desire. Once more he lowered his mouth to her breast, locking his lips around a swollen nipple and suckling. Swiping his tongue over and around the nub he kept his lips pressed to her flesh. Missy whimpered in her sleep. Her body rolled and shifted beneath him. She lifted herself to him. After a couple minutes he moved to the other breast, giving it the same loving devotion. Back and forth his mouth moved; from one swollen, aching nipple to the other. Suckling. Licking. All the while his hands continued to mold and squeeze the pliant mounds, his fingers manipulating them with the hunger that was making his cock throb angrily within his pants. His attentions effected the slumbering girl. Her breathing grew heavy until she was panting past her quivering lip. Her legs scissored upon the mattress, opening themselves further and causing her skirt to ride up higher. Then she let out an audible moan. Alarmed, Tom's eyes shot up to see if she had finally woke. But her head had rolled so that she was facing away from him. With no further indications coming that she might be rousing he dropped his gaze and continued his devotions to her breasts. And Missy continued to squirm and wiggle beneath him. After several more minutes he pulled away again, once more raising up to peer down and admire her body. He knelt over her, his eyes devouring her. This time one hand followed his crawling gaze, releasing its grasp of her breast to slip down over her belly. Her shimmering abs quivered as his fingers drew small circles across them. Reaching her skirt, he traced back and forth along its edge, delicately scratching at her flesh. Quiet whimpers rose from the girl. Her flesh rippled as her muscles meekly spasmed under it. Her legs scissored upon the bed, sliding further apart. Fighting an internal urge, Tom forced himself to look at her face again. It remained turned away and still hidden. He assumed this meant she still slept and his gaze crawled back down over her. Moving down past her abs, then her skirt, he was soon staring at her displayed crotch. His heart raced. The damp spot in her panties had grown. It still hadn't fully compromised the cotton's crispness, but it was working on it. For a long minute Tom stared at her crotch. The vision of her panties molded to her body's delicate curves mesmerized him. The sight of her juices soaking into those panties tantalized him. Without his conscience approval his hand slipped down from her skirt's edge and reached for her. His fingers pressed at the spot where her wetness had weakened the cotton. Missy's hips rolled, her legs opening another inch. Tom's cock throbbed. His throat vibrated with a low, guttural growl. His fingers stroked at her through her panties. The damp spot grew, the crisp, white cotton being further compromised by her moisture. Then one of his fingers quickly slipped under the edge of her panties to wiggle between her labia and play in her wetness. The contact made her hips jump and she inhaled sharply. Within seconds the excitement of her scissoring legs increased until her feet were skidding across the bed. His heart raced, his finger having direct contact with his daughter's sex while his other hand continued squeezing her breast. The duel manipulations caused the girl's body to squirm as she exhaled several heavy sighs. More than once his eyes shot up in response to a needy whimper coming from her, convinced that she had finally awoke. But she remained unconscious, her eyelids fluttering and her lip quivering. Her wetness seeped into her panties, fully compromising them and allowing his finger clear access to her slit. What the fuck am I doing? He suddenly screamed to himself and jerked his hands away from her as though she were molten lava. What . . . the fuck . . . am I doing? She whimpered sadly as his hands left her body. He told himself to climb off the bed and leave . . . Right now. He tried ordering himself to leave her lying there; disheveled and aroused, her legs scissoring open, her chest heaving with her labored breaths. But he didn't move. He didn't budge. He just knelt there, staring down at her, admiring the delicate curves of her body while his cock throbbed angrily in his pants. He stared at her firm tits, topped by her swollen nipples. He admired the delicate rippling of her abs as her muscles quivered beneath her flesh. He devoured the outline of her labia, now puffed-up and pressing against the weakened cotton of her panties. And he inhaled the aroma of her arousal. She smells so sweet. The tantalizing vision of her sex outlined through her damp panties beseeched him to surrender to the latest urge consuming him. He wanted to see her pussy. To just look at it for a moment. To gaze upon its youthful, unspoiled appearance. Then he would leave his daughter alone. That will be the end of this obscenity, he told himself. And he truly meant it. As he climbed off the bed he honestly meant to get a clear, unobstructed view of her pussy, then go to his own room and beat-off furiously. Stepping between her legs, his hands nearly shook as they reached out to her waist. Slipping a couple fingers under each side of her panties he gave them an inquisitive tug. His heart leapt when Missy responded. Sliding her legs together she lifted her ass off the bed a little. The action was so automatic that Tom was once again convinced she was awake. But, again, when his eyes darted up she showed no signs of stirring. As he pulled the panties off her hips and slowly drew them along her thighs he was torn between watching them slip down her legs, or watching the prize be revealed. Then they were off her. Slipping them over her feet he absently held them in his fingers as he stood looking down at her. With the panties off, Missy's legs scissored open again, splaying themselves wide to lewdly display herself. Her aroma filled the air with its primal invitation. A light feathering of hairs surrounded her glistening pussy. Between her swollen labia her folds were flowering open elegantly, presenting her shiny pink slit. Oh fuck, Tom silently growled, his cock throbbing again and again. He stood frozen, staring down at his nineteen-year-old daughter with her sweater crammed up past her breasts and her skirt piled around her waist. He stared at her firm, yet pliable tits with their dark, hard nipples. He stared at her sex, shimmering in the muted light from the hall. Her body's squirming and writhing had brought her ass near the edge of the bed. Her one knee lay bent near that edge, her other leg was thrown out in the opposite direction. One arm had come up to lay next to her head, the other lay at her side. In her sleep her hips rolled slightly. Okay, you can leave now, he told himself after a couple minutes. But again he didn't budge or move. Not toward the exit. Instead he stepped forward and dropped to his knees between her splayed legs, his face inches away from her glistening pussy. He stared at the curve of her asscheeks as they dipped down under her onto the bed. He stared at the point where her thighs connected with her pelvis, the indentation bookended by the outline of her tendons. He stared at the gentle swell of her sexual mound, the way it made a delicately smooth hump at her very center. And he stared at her clit, its head poking out from under its hood. A few of her downy hairs fluttered as his breath washed over them. She shifted on the bed, her feet searching out and finding holds so that she could lift her ass centimeters into the air, as if offering herself up to him. Leave! Get up and fucking leave! His mind ordered. But he didn't. Instead his hands came up, reaching toward her inner thighs. No! Don't! He screamed at himself. Then he was holding them. His hands cuffed the limbs, his fingers stretching up, his thumbs settling just inches from her heated sex. Stop! Stop, you son-of-a-bitch! Stop! He inhaled deeply, savoring her aroma. His cock throbbed angrily with the hunger raging inside him. Yet he still insisted that he had control. That he could actually stop when he needed to. But first . . . just one little taste, his hunger whispered. Tom leaned forward, lowering his face to her sex. Her aroma enveloped him. Bending close he kissed her slit. As he did his tongue darted out so he could taste her. So sweet, he silently sighed. Upon the bed Missy breathed heavily. He kissed her again, pressing his mouth's lips against her pussy's. This time his tongue flitted out, stroking into her slit a little more. Another heavy sigh slipped into the night. Her hips rolled slightly and pushed herself at him. That thing inside of him that had already been close to snapping shuddered with the tension now stressing it. Oh Sweetie. He nearly groaned aloud. Kissing her sex again he swirled his tongue around in her wetness for a moment. He was intoxicated by her taste, enthralled by the slight tremble of her hips and the flexing of her thighs under his palms. His ears sang with her whimpering sighs. At that moment he knew that he was going to thoroughly eat his daughter's pussy. But that's where I stop, he insisted. His hands slid closer to her pelvic junction so that his thumbs could pull her labia open, providing him with clear access to her slit. Pushing his tongue into that slit he licked her. The blade slid through her wetness, quickly passing across her opening and making her inhale sharply. He did it again. And again. The Unintended Incident Missy's hips swayed before him. Her sighs turned to hungry moans. Her arms reached out to her sides, her fists grabbing at the bedspread and pulling. Tom licked her pussy several times, his tongue lapping at her feverishly. He swirled it around the edge of her opening, teasing the hole with a gentle pressure. After a couple minutes he licked his way to the top of her sex and swiped at her engorged clit. The contact brought an audible moan from Missy as her hips jerked. At several points during the evening such a reaction from the slumbering girl had caused Tom to look up in panic, expecting to find her awake and glaring at him. But not this time. The hunger driving him to eat her, also made him ignore this latest possible disruption. Instead he continued devouring her pussy, his tongue lapping at her clit again and again. Then he swiped down to her opening where he licked at the edge before pushing the tip into her. Upon the bed Missy whimpered and writhed, her body quivering with the electricity racing along her nerves. Her chest rose and fell with her panting breath. Her hands clawed at the bedspread. It had been years since Tom had savored a pussy so youthful and untainted. The sensation urged him on with a growing passion. Again and again his tongue lathered its way up and down her slit; lapping at her clit one moment, then swirling around her opening the next. And his continuous attentions had the desired effect. Missy's abs quivered excitedly. Her muscles rapidly flexed through a series of straining spasms as her orgasm neared. Her body started to arch up off the bed and her sex was pushed at his face. Tom place his tongue hard against her clit and rolled it. Simultaneously one of his thumbs slipped forward, its tip dipping into her hole and rubbing her walls. Missy began to continuously moan. Her hair fluttered as her head rolled from side-to-side. Her body arched higher, her hips cramming her sex at him harder. Tom's own desire raged through him. His angrily throbbing cock strained within the confines of his pants. No longer did he think about having to stop, about just how far he could allow this to go. Such matters were forgotten, discarded. Cast aside. All of his attention was focused on devouring her pussy while her body spasmed with pleasure. Then she was cumming. Her entire body tensed before him, every muscle straining. Her flesh shimmered with a thin sheen of sweat. She moaned out, filling the room with unintelligible sounds of ecstasy. Her aching back crammed her sex against his face. Her hips jerked spastically. Her fists tore the bedspread loose and her legs tried to snap shut. Tom continued licking her as she gasped, moaned, and writhed through the orgasm. His tongue lapped at her clit. His thumb teased her opening. And he felt his own hunger raging. Felt it boiling and seething deep inside him. Kneeling there, eating his daughter's pussy while she quaked through her orgasm he felt something finally snap. Oh fuck! He cursed. Moments later Missy began to settle down. Her body slowly lowered itself back to the bed. Her weakened legs collapsed, her ass bouncing on the mattress. Her fists released the bedspread. Tom lapped at her pussy a moment longer, savoring her orgasmic wetness. Then he stood up and leered down at her. Her breathing softened as she lay there, facing away from him. Her hands slid up to rest on her belly just below her breasts. Towering over her, Tom's hands ripped at his belt. They tore at his zipper. He groaned with remorse, knowing what he was about to do. Missy's eyes slowly fluttered open. He wanted to stop himself, but he couldn't. His hunger was too great, his need too powerful. He shoved his pants off his hips. His cock sprang free, erect and pulsing. Turning, Missy looked up at him. In her eyes Tom could see the haze that was a result of the sleeping pill and he knew she was not yet fully aware of what was happening . . . Not yet. He kicked his pants off. Gripped his cock in one hand. "Daddy?" She whispered, confusion in her voice. "It's okay, Sweetie," he hushed. Stepping closer he set his free hand on her lower belly and applied pressure, effectively holding her in place while guiding himself to her. "Daddy, what are you?" Her tone quickly gained an edge of alarm as the haze began to fade. "It's okay, Baby." The tip of his cock slid up and down between her wet lips. "Wait! What?" Now her voice was on the verge of panic. Her hands fell back to the mattress and skidded across the bedspread as she tried pushing away from him. He set his cock tip against her opening. "Wait! Daddy!" He heard the fear and the panic in her voice. And it almost gave him the strength to stop himself . . . Almost. But not quite. He pushed forward. His cockhead pried her open. Entered her. "Daddy, wait!" She nearly cried. "I'm sorry, Sweetie," he whispered. An inch of his manhood followed the cockhead. Pulling back he removed a couple centimeters. Then he pushed forward again and a couple more inches penetrated. Missy's body arched off the bed. Her feet found quick footholds and she lifted her ass into the air. "Oh," she whimpered in confusion as she reflexively shoved herself onto him. Their joint actions ended with over half of Tom's cock inside her. Instantly they both retreated partway, only to shove themselves at the one another once more. "Oh fuck," Tom groaned as his daughter stuffed herself along his shaft. "Oh no," Missy moaned with a mixture of shame and lust. They pumped their bodies at each other, feeding her more and more of him until their crotches were smashed together. Whimpering Missy ground herself against her father, her tight pussy gripping his shaft. After a moment he pulled back. Removing inches of his cock, he smoothly pushed it back into her. She followed his lead, allowing her hips to drop away as he pulled back, then lifting them again in response to his forward thrust. And again they ground their crotches together. Tom's hands moved to her waist so that he could wrench her into him even harder. Then he again pulled back, stopping when only the head of his shaft remained inside her. And again he thrust forward. "Oh Daddy," Missy whimpered as his full length filled her once more. Then he did it again. And again. Each time Missy matched his actions, shoving herself onto his length and whimpering needily. Soon they had worked up a building rhythm, their bodies pumping at one another. Tom thrust himself into his daughter, driving his cock into her pussy again and again. Missy's legs lifted her to him, her ass hopping off the bed. The room became filled with the sounds of their fucking; the wet slapping together of their crotches, their heavy panting and lustful moans. "Oh fuck yes," Tom groaned as he worked himself in and out of her. "Daddy. Oh Daddy," Missy whimpered. Gripping her waist and leering down at her, Tom thrust his cock into his daughter over and over; fucking her with growing abandon. Back and forth his hips rocked. In and out his cock pistoned. Writhing before him, Missy responded with her own lustful hunger. Her hands grabbed at the bedspread, providing leverage so that she could propel her hips up to meet him and making her tits roll upon her chest. "Oh fuck yes Sweetie. Oh fuck yes." Tom groaned as her pussy tightly squeezed his pistoning rod. "Oh Daddy. Fuck me. Fuck me Daddy." Her words fueled Tom's hunger, made the force of his fucking steadily increase until he was driving his cock into her viciously. He watched her squirm before him, watched her body twist and roll as he pounded himself into her. "Harder Daddy. Fuck me harder," she whimpered, ramming her pussy along the length of his cock. His hands tightened their grip on her waist. He yanked her up onto his shaft as his hips rocked faster and harder, jamming his cock deep inside her. "Yes! Yes! Oh god yes Daddy! Fuck me!" Tom was now slamming himself into his daughter, driving his cock into her with so much force that her ass was being bounced off the mattress again and again. "Oh god yes Daddy! God yes!" She cried out. Her feet slipped from their holds and her legs skidded across the bed for a moment. When they were reset she lifted herself to him with more vigor, shoving her pussy onto him. "Oh god yes!" "Fuck yea!" He growled, simultaneously jerking her up by the waist. "Oh Daddy! Fuck me! Fuck me Daddy!" Groaning out, Tom felt the tension building inside him and knew that his climax was near. With the added hunger this generated he drilled himself into her, slamming his cock into her with even more ferocity. "Oh god yes!" Missy's body began to tense up, her muscles straining, her nerves making them twitch and quiver with electricity. "Fuck me! Fuck me! Fuck me!" Together the lust-crazed pair fucked one another; slamming . . . pounding . . . ramming their bodies together, shoving her pussy onto his cock again and again. Then her body arched up, lifting off the bed and cramming her onto him spastically. Her head rolled back. Her mouth fell open and she cried out. Her pussy's lock around his shaft tightened with unprecedented enthusiasm. Tom crammed his crotch hard against Missy's, burying his cock deep, deep inside her spasming sex and grinding into her. He watched her body start to twist and snap with the orgasm rocketing through her. Then his own climax exploded. He groaned as his cock jerked, unleashing his semen inside his daughter. The pair moaned and panted through their respective orgasms, their bodies tensing and spasming for several moments. Tom's ended first. He kept himself buried firmly inside Missy while hers continued. Then it too began to subside. Still, he remained entrenched in his daughter's pussy, savoring its tight, silky feel. Gently lowering her back to the bed he watched her quiver through a couple of aftershocks. Eventually he did take a step back, removing his softened cock from her. He stared down at her, once more admiring her beauty. Her flesh shimmered and glowed from her orgasmic ecstasy. Her firm, round breasts rose and fell evenly with her settling breath. Her sex glistened wetly between her splayed legs. Her features were relaxed and euphoric, framed by her disheveled hair. Then her head rolled to face him and she returned his gaze. Her eyes swam with a strange mixture of emotions. "Daddy? What--? How- How did this happen?" She whispered. And Tom suddenly realized he still had no idea how he would explain it. The end.