She reached forward to begin unbuttoning my shirt as I caressed her
face with my hand. My mind wandered in this moment; this was
happening in such a surreal way, and in a way so different from what
had happened with my younger daughter. Radhika, almost without
asking, was just taking what she wanted -- and I was offering no
resistance!
My mind snapped suddenly back to alertness when I realized she had
unbuckled my belt and was loosening my fly. In an instant, my lund
had sprung free and stood at attention, obscenely huge and erect, in
front of my daughter.
Cautiously, as though afraid of breaking it, she took it in both her
hands, and began feeling it, fondling it, curiously. Then, seeming
sufficiently familiar with it, her eyes moved away from it to look
up into my face. As I half-sat, half- leaned against the table, she
looked wordlessly into my eyes as she began stroking my lund --
slowly, luxuriously jacking me off.
"Hey bhagwaan, stop it!" I said, after a few moments. "I can't stand
it!" I tore off my shirt and struggled out of my shoes and pants --
and pulled my daughter's dress, only barely clinging to her anyway,
the rest of the way down -- to find that her stockings were thigh-
highs and she wore no panties. My lund twitched visibly as I stood
staring stupidly at her nakedness.
"Do you like it, Daddy?" she said, smiling. "I did it just for you."
I grabbed her, nearly violently, and pressed her whole body tightly
against my own, my rock-hard lund grinding into her belly. My arm
around her waist, I grabbed her hair with my other hand and pulled
her lips to mine, burying my tongue in her mouth, and nearly coming
with the excitement of how her tongue fought back, dancing lewdly
with my own in her mouth.
This child -- so different from her sister, and no matter how
seemingly quiet and mature -- was innately a slut, a nymphomaniac,
like her mother! No wonder, I now understood, no wonder I felt so
different in taking this one of my daughters from how I felt in
taking the other!
"Daddy," Radhika said suddenly, pulling away from our kiss. I looked
into her face to find a very serious look in her eyes. "I want this
to happen in your bed."
I had no words. I simply swept her up into my arms, carried her to
the bed I shared with her mother, and all but threw her on it.
Flipping on a lamp, I stood beside the bed, my lund still standing
at attention, and stared at my daughter, who lay propped up on her
elbows and staring back.
Her little breasts rose and fell with her heavy breathing as I
devoured her slowly with my eyes. The naturally full, black bush at
the top of her whore- like stockings was, unlike her mother's, neatly
trimmed and thinned, easily exposing her slit; and just a hint of
her inner lips protruded, glistening with moisture in the dim light
of the lamp.
"Make love to me, Daddy," she said, the silence finally
broken. "Please. "Make love to me."
As soon as I moved onto the bed, Radhika seemed to take over
completely. She rolled me onto my back, rolled herself on top of me,
and began kissing me with a passion the likes of which I had no idea
could exist in a 15- year-old.
With both my hands, I grabbed the sweet cheeks of her Gand and
squeezed hard as the moist opening between her thighs teased the
throbbing head of my lund. She moved almost compulsively, seemingly
unable to be still. It was as though she was at last devouring
something she'd craved for a long, long time.
Suddenly, she jumped up, and moved forward to stand on her knees,
straddling my face. Her sweet pussy was just inches from my nose,
and I looked past it, up her smooth belly, past her quivering
breasts, and into her face.
"Can I do this, Daddy?" she said, as though she needed permission.
Where had she learned all this? Had she been reading it in books?
Rather than speak, I took hold of her thighs and gently pulled her
15-year-old womanhood down onto my face. My tongue moved up and down
her little slit, teasing her, before finally plunging in, making her
whole body buck and jerk as I began fucking her with my tongue. Why
did I feel no need to be gentle with this child?
Unable to remain upright on her knees, she fell forward to support
herself with her hands, her pussy grinding hard into my face, her
breath coming in increasingly noisy gasps.
Then she moved yet again, her crotch still glued to my mouth, but
her head now facing the other way. Supporting herself with one hand
on my thigh, she used her other to take my lund and begin stroking
it in earnest -- masturbating me while my tongue plunged away at her
wetness.
I rolled us both over on our sides and rather forcibly pressed her
head down toward my lund, where she took the hint and -- with no
hesitation at all -- eagerly took it into her mouth and began
sucking it with abandon, all the while making muffled groans around
it in response to the action of my tongue.
Suddenly, she let go of my lund and seemed to stiffen; her thighs,
wrapped around my head, tightened horribly and, as I pressed harder
into her little clitoris, drawing rough circles around it with my
tongue, she began screaming at the top of her lungs. She was coming
so hard she was trying to crawl away from it; and I just hung onto
her hips and pressed her harder into my face, not letting her get
away until, at last, the screams subsided and she grew limp and lay
still.
"Are you alright, sweetheart?" I whispered, my voice hoarse with the
excitement of my still unrelieved lund.
She didn't respond. Instead, she rose up slowly, rolled me back onto
my back, and straddled my thighs, facing me, and taking my aching
lund into her hands. It looked huge up against her smooth, white
belly as she stroked it slowly, staring into my eyes.
"I've never done this before, " she said quietly. "Is it going to
hurt?"
"Probably," I said, my hips beginning to move in response to her
stroking, my lund wanting to explode and trying hard not to.
"I want to do it this way," she said, raising herself up and placing
the head of my lund up against her wet opening.
"Please be careful," I said. "Please don't hurt yourself."
The sensation, for me, was somewhere between excruciating and
exquisite as I watched my daughter trying ever so slowly to slide
herself down onto my nine-inch lund, and watched the expressions on
her face while she did so -- wide-eyed pain for a moment, open-
mouthed pleasure the next...
Once the head was fully in, she stopped there, seeming relieved that
she'd gotten that far, then smiling at me as she rode gently up and
down on just the head of it. Now comfortable with this much, she
attempted more. A frown wrinkled her forehead as she eased on down
another half-inch, then another, until she was about half- way. From
there, then, she rode slowly up and down, her own moisture and
gradual relaxation making this much comfortable too.
"It's so big, " she whispered, looking at it rather than me, still
riding it slowly, carefully.
"It feels good, sweetheart," I said, enjoying the calm look on my
daughter's face, while at the same time working hard to contain my
impatient lund, which was dying to start moving.
Finally, she decided to take the rest of it. Up and down, and down
farther each time, and interrupted now and then with a pained little
groan, Radhika at last reached bottom - - and let go a long,
sighed, " Mmmm" when she got there.
She sat there, quite still, for a long moment.
"I felt that, " she said, smiling, when my lund twitched
involuntarily inside her.
Then she raised up -- all the way up -- and slid all the way back
down again. And did it one more time. Then she took me a little by
surprise by what she said.
"I have you now, " she said.
"Hm?" I said, by now gritting my teeth to keep from coming just from
the tightness of her 15-year-old pussy.
"I have you now, Daddy," she said again. "Now you're mine." And with
that, and with no warning, she started riding my lund like there was
no tomorrow. Her dark eyes flashed wild madness as she humped up and
down, grunting noisily -- " shamelessly" was the word that came to my
mind -- and at last my own hips let go and began slamming back into
her downward thrusts.
Her breasts jiggled up and down as she rode harder and faster; I
watched my lund -- covered, to my alarm, with blood -- plunge in and
out as she became gradually noisier; and my brain became fevered as
her features merged, in my mind, with those of her mother, and she
began shouting now, in words I didn't expect, "Mujhe chodo, Daddy!
Mujhe chodo!"
No longer content to lie back, I rose up to stand on my knees as she
continued to mujhe chodo without interruption, her arms wrapped
around my neck, her pussy impaled on my lund -- then I let her fall
to the bed on her back, with me, now, doing the fucking.
Her eyes grew wilder, and her screams louder; I pounded her harder
and harder as she bucked and squirmed and humped hungrily around on
my lund; the room went around in circles as I lost track of where I
was or who I was fucking; and finally my lund blew up, shooting
gallons of cum deep inside my daughter while she screamed sharply in
response to each of my orgasmic thrusts.
But just as I started to come to rest, she screamed at the top of
her lungs, a look of wide-eyed anger in her face: " Don't stop! For
God's sake don't stop! Mujhe chodo, God damn it!"
With what little I had left in me, I started moving again while my
daughter wrapped her legs around my waist and nearly squeezed me to
death, approaching another orgasm. With no rhythm left, I just tore
into her, thrusting as hard as I could, when I could, until at last
she let loose with a piercing scream that ended only an eternity
later when she had simply run out of breath and she fell, loosely
and limply, back to the bed, quiet at last.
The bed was covered in blood, Radhika's whole pubic area was covered
in blood, and so was mine. She lay still, her eyes closed, her mouth
open, only her chest moving as she breathed heavily. I took her head
in my arm, and held it close to my chest. I, too, breathed heavily,
exhausted. Radhika, her eyes still closed, put an arm around my
neck.
In silence, my mind wandered aimlessly, confused. Now I had violated
both of my children. And how different they were from each other!
With one, I felt the tenderest, most innocent kind of love. And with
the other? With Radhika? I didn't know. It wasn't love. It was pure
sex. Just pure sex with a daughter who'd chosen to have her way with
me.
I felt sleep coming, and I had some vague kind of nightmare about
Suman and Simran coming home to a post-it note on the front door, to
a trail of clothes in the dining room and hallway, and to a pool of
blood in the bedroom.
Radhika said something that I didn't hear.
"What, sweetheart?" I said. "My mind was a thousand miles away."
"She said it would be good. And she was right."
"Huh?"
"Making love to you," said my daughter. "She said it would be good,
and it was."
"She? Who?"
"Simran."
It must have been between two and three in the morning when my wife,
Suman, and I came home to a near-dark house on Saturday night. We'd
been out, just the two of us, looking for some other-than- ordinary
fun.
It was our habit, once in a great while, to go out drinking and
dancing, and to look for an extra partner to share between us at a
hotel. We'd done a lot of drinking and dancing this time, but had
found no one interesting enough to consider picking up.
So now, here it was the middle of the night, I was dangerously horny
and unrelieved, while she was so drunk as to be nearly unconscious
on her feet.
On stumbling into the living room, while trying as well to hold
Suman up, I found my oldest daughter, Radhika, 15, and Anjali, our
17-year-old sitter, slouched beside each other on the sofa, their
feet up on the coffee table, staring sleepily into the TV set.
"Radhika, sweetheart," I said quietly, " help me get your mother to
bed. Be right back, Anjali," I added, trying to smile through my
exhaustion and unrequited horniness.
Radhika helped me walk Suman to the bedroom, where I laid her down
on her side of the bed and switched on a bedside lamp. Back here in
the familiar light of home, my wife looked almost shamefully like a
slut, dressed as she was in the shortest possible of skirts, black
thigh-high stockings, painfully high heels, and a clingy, vivid blue
blouse, without a bra, unbuttoned nearly to her waist. Horny as I
was, I was of a good mind to fuck her blind in her sleep!
"Help her to get undressed and comfortable, would you?" I said to
Radhika. "I'll go see Anjali out." I left my daughter there, sitting
sleepily on the edge of the bed, and headed back out to the living
room.
Anjali was a pretty child -- very thin, almost flat-chested, with
beautiful blue eyes and long, straight blond hair. She, too, looked
sleepy as I found her standing and gathering her things, preparing
to leave.
"Are you awake enough to drive?" I said, catching myself looking at
her tight blue jeans, and the nipples that protruded against the
white cotton of her t-shirt, rather than her eyes, as I should have
while speaking.
"Yes, Mr. Malhotra," she said quietly, smiling.
"Call me Raj, " I said, for the hundredth time in the two years in
which we'd made her a frequent guest in our home. "That 'Mr' stuff
makes me feel old."
"Ok," she said " -- Raj." My eyes watched her gorgeous little bottom
wiggle in the tight jeans as I followed her to the door, where she
turned to face me before opening it to leave.
"Uh, Raj," she said, with some obvious hesitation -- then stopped. A
question of some kind of importance to her was clearly written on
her face, but she couldn't seem to express it.
"Let it out, " I said, smiling. "What is it?"
She paused, then said, "Nothing. Never mind."
But her eyes remained glued to mine for a very long moment before
she finally turned, opened the door, and stepped out onto the porch.
What was she thinking, or trying to say?
She just smiled in an odd sort of way as she started her car and
backed out of the driveway; and it wasn't until I was back inside
with the door closed that I thought: Dear God, what if she knows
things? Much, much had gone on in this house in the last few weeks
which, if known by the wrong people, could very well land me in
jail!
Perhaps it was for the best that my mind was so wrecked by
exhaustion and my crotch on fire with desire. Thanks to that, the
worry was only momentary, and I moved back down the hallway toward
the bedroom.
And I stopped dead in my tracks on just stepping through the door.
Our daughter had taken an unexpected approach to undressing her
mother. Suman's skirt and shoes were gone, her blouse was completely
open and practically off, leaving only her tiny black thong bikini
and the stockings.
She was completely unconscious, still on her back, and Radhika lay
beside her, facing me, propped up on one elbow, and was lazily --
luxuriously, even -- rolling one of her mother's stockings down her
thigh, removing it slowly and obviously enjoying herself.
"What are you doing?" I stuttered from the doorway.
"Helping Mom get undressed," she said quietly, her eyes meeting
mine. Her gaze was teasing, and her tongue grazed her lips for an
instant -- causing an involuntary stir in my already hungry lund.
I was paralyzed for a moment by the erotic beauty of the picture. My
wife, practically naked, her voluptuous form and wild black hair
spread unconscious and completely vulnerable across the bed; and my
daughter, equally beautiful, bending over her, undressing her
slowly, and boring holes in my eyes with the fire that emanated from
her own. What the hell was going on here!
"I've never seen her naked before," Radhika said, jogging me from my
paralysis. "She's beautiful, isn't she?"
"I -- " I had a hard time finding my words. "I had thought I'd be
alone with your mother tonight, sweetheart."
Radhika left her mother's stocking rolled half down, and sat up in
the middle of the bed. She wore one of my own white cotton dress
shirts, and her face, surrounded by her long, black hair, was
radiant as she smiled and spoke softly.
"But she's asleep," she said. "I'm sure I'd be much more fun." My
heart leapt a little as she began slowly to unbutton the shirt, and
I felt my lund beginning to come to life. One button at a time, ever
so slowly, the shirt was completely unbuttoned before I found my
voice again.
"Not in here, " I said. "Let's go to the other room."
My daughter looked at me wordlessly, right in the eyes, as she
removed the shirt altogether. She wore nothing else beneath it. And
rather than responding to me, she laid back down on her side,
propped up again on an elbow, and caressed her sleeping mother's
smooth, olive neck. Her own, nicely developing breasts pressed close
to one of my wife's rather large ones.
"No," she said quietly, still looking right into my eyes. "I want to
do it here."
A hot, red flush of something between anger and sorrow flew over me
for a moment -- this was an absurd situation! My daughter, just 15,
was behaving for all the world like a wanton, nymphomaniac slut; and
her mother, in so many ways a true, proven slut, was naked and
passed out drunk beside her! What had gone wrong with this family?
I longed, in that moment, for Simran, my 11-year-old, and for the
pure, innocent love that she and I shared together. Would we ever
bring this situation around to one of healthy, happy love among all
of us? Or would I live forever torn between sweet innocence and
cheap, vulgar slut under the same roof?
But by now all the blood had left my brain and moved to lower
regions; the flush was in my crotch, where -- moving as lewdly as my
daughter -- I unabashedly began stroking my hardening lund through
my pants.
Radhika was staring at me, smiling, while lazily running her hands
up and down her mother's unconscious nakedness.
"Leave her alone," I said. "She's asleep." And I got onto the other
side of the bed, pulled her away from Suman, and pressed a long,
hungry kiss onto her mouth, veritably attacking her tongue with my
own.
My lund was fully erect, already, as my daughter tore at my clothes,
her eagerness equal to my own. And once I was free of my clothes,
her whole body writhed and squirmed almost violently beneath me as I
pressed my whole weight on top of her, digging out the depths of her
mouth with my tongue.
Suddenly, almost angrily, she pulled free of my kiss and whispered,
hoarsely, "In me!"
"What?" I groaned, consumed with passion.
"In me, Daddy! I want you in me! Now!"
She had spread her legs lewdly open, and her crotch seemed to beg
noisily on its own. I raised up and carefully positioned the swollen
head of my lund at her entrance to find that she was already wet --
there would be no need for slow caution...
I watched her beautiful face as I sank my lund into her still-tight
womanhood: her eyes widened and her mouth opened with a tiny,
breathy gasp of pain, then she closed her eyes and smiled slightly
as I reached bottom and began stroking, all the way out, all the way
in, over and over.
I felt as though my lund were twice its nine inches as I watched my
daughter's eyes darting wildly about, and her tongue licking lewdly
at her lips, as I fucked her; her pink nipples were erect as her
breasts heaved and bounced with each of my thrusts.
And I felt I would last forever; though I was hard as a rock, I had
had so much to drink that it could be, if I wished, a very long time
before I came.
I lowered my upper body down onto my daughter's, burying my face in
her neck and shoulder, kissing and licking at her smooth, child-like
skin, while wrapping her tightly in my arms and pounding away at her
pussy.
Her whispered gasps became groans, and then noisy grunts and
whimpers of pleasure, as she neared coming -- and then, almost
without warning, she wrapped her legs around my waist, squeezed
hard, and screamed at the top of her lungs. "Daddy! Oh Daddy! Yes!
Mujhe chodo! Mujhe chodo like that!"
I pounded as hard and deep as I could, and her whole body shuddered
and shook as she came with a blood- curdling scream. And it was only
when she at last lay limp and still that I remembered her mother,
beside us -- and looked to find that, in response to the noise, she
had simply rolled over on her side, still drunkenly asleep, her back
toward us.
"Get up, Daddy, " Radhika said suddenly, seeming impatient. "Get up."
I carefully withdrew my still-throbbing lund and rolled to my side,
looking into her face with a question on mine.
"Lie on your back," she said. I did, and she straddled my thighs,
facing me, and took my rigid lund in her hands. I watched as she
stroked it, slowly, seeming to enjoy how the foreskin rolled up and
down its length. Then she spread my legs and knelt between them, her
lips so close to the head of my lund that I could feel her breath,
her beautiful brown eyes staring straight into mine.
"I've been dying to do this, " she said, her voice low and
sultry. "All the way. I want to take you like this all the way." My
lund twitched in her hands as she touched her tongue to its tip,
teasingly flicking around it before at last closing her mouth around
its head.
I groaned as I watched her lower her head over my lund, moving up
and down slowly, taking a little more in with each downward stroke.
Her dainty hand clasped its base tightly, and my hips at last began
thrusting upward into her throat involuntarily as I found myself
nearing orgasm.
I wanted this to last forever -- there is no describing the utterly
exquisite eroticism of watching my own 15-year-old daughter, her
mouth stretched almost painfully around my too-thick lund, her lips
sloppy with saliva, her nostrils flared, and her eyes wide open and
staring wildly into my own, as she hungrily fucked me with her
mouth.
It was with almost animal brutality that my pelvis wrestled control
from my mind, and began pounding my pole deeper and harder into my
daughter's mouth. Sweet Radhika kept her grip firm on my lund, and,
though already gagging a little, kept her mouth tightly sealed
around me, meeting my upward thrusts with her downward strokes,
seemingly determined to pull this off successfully.
And I could contain it no longer. Starting at the base of my spine,
the burning spasms came, and my loins, quivering and shaking, began
forcing the great loads of cum upward and upward until, at last, in
huge, successive spurts, I began filling my daughter's mouth with
the thick, white liquid.
She gagged and gurgled, tears came to her wide-open eyes, but she
would not release her tight lips from my lund -- swallowing,
difficult as it was, all she could, with the remainder oozing out to
coat her lips and drip down her chin -- as I bucked and pounded
uncontrollably.
Only when I had come completely to rest, limp and motionless, lying
flat on my back and breathing heavily, did she let go. She sat up on
the bed, looking sweetly into my eyes, and attempted a smile. There
was something obscenely angelic about her face in that moment; her
long black hair was stuck to the perspiration on her white forehead
and cheeks; her nostrils flared as she began to catch her breath;
and my cum dripped from her lips as her mouth hung open with
exhaustion.
I, too, was exhausted; all I could do was lie there, speechless, and
stare absently at my daughter as her breasts heaved with her
laboured breathing.
And I must have fallen asleep for a moment; for she was no longer
there when next my eyes came open. Instead, I found her beside me,
slowly peeling her sleeping mother's black thong bikini down her
hips and thighs, pulling them off.
I knew not what was going on, but in my exhausted daze I could only
lie there and watch, barely half- conscious. Radhika had rolled Suman
onto her back, and now the panties were gone, leaving only the black
stockings.
Our daughter positioned herself on the bed between her mother's
thighs, and looked dreamily upward into her sleeping face. In that
spot she remained for a long while before, at last -- seeming as
though she'd come to a difficult decision -- she moved forward to
touch her tongue to her mother's hairy slit.
Was I dreaming? I knew what I was seeing -- and was not happy about
it at all -- but I found myself unable to move or to speak; perhaps
it was the alcohol and the exhaustion?
My daughter began cautiously to lick at her mother's womanhood,
poking here with the tip of her tongue, licking there with the
entirety of it, becoming gradually more comfortable with what she
was doing.
It was only when Suman began, in her sleep, to react to Radhika's
tongue that I finally began to return slowly to my senses. My wife
started groaning, ever so lightly, and rolling her pelvis around in
response to our daughter's explorations; she grew gradually louder
in her moans and little gasps, and Radhika -- evidently emboldened
by this -- became gradually more aggressive as she ate lustfully at
her mother's pussy.
And only when it was too late did I wake up fully and realize that
this couldn't be. Suddenly, Suman was awakened by the pleasurable
sensations between her thighs, opened her eyes, and managed to
gradually look down, focus, and realize what was happening.
"Oh my God!" she screamed, suddenly fully awake and struggling to
move away from Radhika's face. "No! Oh no!"
And in a flash, my eyes moved from the horror on Suman's face to the
indescribable look of anger on Radhika's face -- to the bedroom
door, where Simran had suddenly appeared, her expression lying
somewhere between innocent curiosity and pain...
"It's just something I'm going to have to learn to manage, learn to
live with," said Suman, my wife, her voice quiet and pensive.
It was late at night. Our daughters, Simran, 11, and Radhika, 15,
had long since gone to bed; and we sat alone beside each other on
the couch in the den, dressed only in t- shirts, snuggling, feeling
truly close again for the first time in several days.
We had finally managed, this evening, to calmly and openly discuss
the relationships -- sexual relationships -- that had recently
evolved between myself and our youngest daughter, and then between
myself and our oldest. I had not sought out these relationships;
they had just evolved in a more or less natural way, and Suman --
quite understandably -- though not entirely disapproving, was very
uncomfortable with the situation. And so was I. I loved my wife, and
had no desire to hurt her.
"It's just so easy to feel left out," she said, and I completely
understood. Especially in my relationship with Simran, there had
been up to now a feeling of " keeping this away from Mommy," which
had made both me and my daughter feel as though we were hiding or
even " cheating" behind Suman's back - - even though, of course, Suman
knew what was going on.
"I suppose, " Suman went on, "it was unavoidable. That I'd feel left
out, I mean. It was natural that if the girls wanted more than
the 'usual' amount of affection, they'd go to their Daddy, not their
Mommy, to get it."
"That's probably the healthiest way to look at it," I said. "You
weren't being left out. You just haven't yet become involved in
whatever's going on."
"And of course I don't know how to get involved -- nor even know
whether I want to be. This is just something that's happened and,
even though maybe nobody's intentionally leaving me out of it, the
fact is that I'm not a part of it."
I was pleased that my wife was being as calm and rational as she was
with the situation. I felt that now, perhaps, we were about to reach
a point where the tension that had permeated our household for weeks
might actually, finally, dissolve.
"You very nearly were a part of it the other night," I said,
reminding her of our oldest daughter's rather surprising attempt to
involve her mother in what had been rather a bizarre session between
Radhika and myself. "But..."
"I know," Suman interrupted. "But it scared the hell out of me.
Caught me totally off guard."
"Yes," I said, "and I'm not sure it was a particularly healthy thing
just then anyway. You were drunk, and she was being weird, really
weird. In fact, she had me pretty scared myself that night."
"I think," she said, "that I probably just need to relax, accept it,
and become part of it if -- and I guess only if -- it evolves
naturally. God knows I certainly can't stop or undo what's already
happened."
I looked fully into her face as she spoke, reliving for the
millionth time the thrill my wife's beauty had never ceased to
produce for me. Her gentle, full- lipped smile, the magic and
vitality in her huge brown eyes, and the wild mane of long, curly,
near-black hair that framed her face still affected me as though I
had only just today fallen in love with her for the very first time.
"Just kiss me, " I said, drawing her face close to mine, my lips
parted, awaiting the sweet touch of hers. She snuggled closer as I
wrapped my arms around her, and she kissed me with a passion I had
not felt from her in seemingly a long time. And as usual, in
response to her practiced tongue greeting mine, my lund, lying
lazily across my thigh, began to stir and twitch and begin its
journey to erection...
But then a noise nearby startled us. One of the girls had stumbled
into the kitchen, apparently looking for a late-night snack. Suman
giggled and drew back slightly, and I wrestled with the bottom of my
t-shirt, trying to cover the writhing, nine-inch snake beneath my
belly.
"Who goes there?" said Suman, faking a deep, threatening tone of
voice tempered by a mischievous smile that the kitchen intruder
couldn't see.
In a moment, Simran, our youngest, came wandering sleepily into the
room, also wearing a t-shirt. I was starting to think that t-shirts
had become the family uniform.
"Hi Mommy," she said, rubbing her eyes. "Hi, Daddy." I watched Suman
smile lovingly at our daughter.
"What are you doing up?" she said. "Get hungry?"
"No," Simran said, " Not really. Just woke up, couldn't go back to
sleep."
"Well," said Suman, " come sit with us, then. We can't sleep either."
Simran climbed onto the couch and sat in her mother's lap, snuggling
in comfortably with her back pressed against Suman's breasts, her
head laid luxuriously against her shoulder.
"I saw Daddy kissing you," she said, as soon as she became
comfortable and still. She looked up into Suman's face as she spoke,
her big brown eyes practically a mirror image of her mother's eyes.
Suman stroked the smooth white skin of our daughter's face and said,
smiling, "So you're spying on us, are you?"
"No, Mommy, " Simran replied. "I just saw you. It was an accident, I
promise."
"It's alright, sweetheart," Suman said. "Daddy is a good kisser,
isn't he?"
Simran just smiled, in response, saying nothing, and turned her head
to look at me. The smile warmed me throughout, and doubly so when I
saw that Suman, too, was smiling at me gently -- with no jealousy at
all in her expression.
I leaned over to take my wife's face in my hand and kiss her again.
Suman's kiss was warm, deep, and loving. But after a moment, she
pulled back a little and said, quietly, "I think poor Simran wants
her kiss, too."
Simran, snuggled between us, smiled, closed her eyes, and puckered
her lips. I looked first into Suman's eyes, and she, smiling,
said "She loves you too."
With that remark, I pressed my mouth gently to our daughter's lips,
touching my tongue to them as they parted to let it into her mouth,
where her tongue rolled lazily around in a loving dance with my own.
This moment was, for me, a sensation like none other I had ever
experienced. My daughter kissed me deeply, lovingly, while my wife,
at last apparently resigned to this relationship, ever so gently
stroked the child's hair, which was as long and black and thick as
her own.
My lund, against my will, had popped obscenely out again from
beneath my t-shirt, and was rapidly growing in plain view to its
full, happy size. My right arm was extended around my wife's
shoulders, my left hand was occupied with the smooth skin of my
daughter's face, so it was with desperate motions of my hips that I
tried, without success, to hide my twitching lund.
But there was no use, for Simran, still locked to my lips with a
growingly passionate kiss, took hold of my hard-on with her tiny
hand, and began gently stroking it. I groaned a little, and tried
for a moment to pull away -- I did not want to risk going further
than Suman might be comfortable going -- but then my wife placed her
hand over our daughter's hand, and it was suddenly both their hands
that slowly stroked my throbbing lund.
I drew back from Simran's sweet kiss, rolled back to my original,
straight position on the couch, spread out my arms across its back,
and sighed, involuntarily, " Oh Jesus," as my two beautiful lovers,
the younger in the elder's lap, gently manipulated my stiffening
manhood.
"Simran," Suman whispered at last. "Make love to your Daddy. I think
he's been missing you."
Both of them let go of my lund, and Simran looked sweetly into her
mother's face.
"Are you sure, Mommy?" she said, innocent affection radiating from
her eyes.
"Yes, sweetheart," said Suman, quietly, a gentle smile in her
eyes. "I want us all to be happy." She ran her hands once more
through our daughter's hair, then -- to my surprise -- reached down
to pull Simran's t- shirt up, over her head, and off, revealing the
entirety of her milky white nudity.
"You're beautiful, sweet child," Suman continued. "Make Daddy happy,
and I'll just sit here beside you." Simran smiled sweetly and
pressed her cheek close against her mother's before slowly rolling
out of Suman's lap and into mine, facing me, my now fully erect lund
standing straight up against her smooth white belly.
I pulled her close to me, clasping her little bottom with both
hands, pressing her belly against my rock-hard pole, and lavishing
her neck and shoulders with my kisses while my hands began to wander
luxuriously around across the sweet, soft skin of her back and arms,
and my pelvis began its slow, rhythmic, involuntary grind.
Beside me, Suman pulled off her t- shirt to become as naked as our
daughter; she slumped comfortably deeper into the sofa, pressing
herself as close as she could into my side. With her left hand, she
clasped my right thigh as though to steady herself while, with her
right, she began slowly, almost lazily, to masturbate.
Simran seemed almost eager in her movements, pressing hard kisses to
my lips, wriggling around in response to the motions of my hands,
and gradually moving upward until the throbbing head of my lund
touched her already moist opening.
"I want you inside me, Daddy, " she whispered, her beautiful eyes
staring deep into mine, her breath warm on my face. "Inside, Daddy,
I want you inside!"
Carefully, I held her hips to prevent her moving too quickly, and
began gently poking the head of my lund at her tiny opening; it had
been so long since I'd been inside my daughter I was afraid it would
be, again, like the very first time.
Just fractions of an inch at a time, it slid gently in; and with
each new inch, Simran winced, smiled, and sighed nervously. It was,
still, a terribly large lund for so small a girl. And with each of
her little sighs came a muted gasp from her mother, whose eyes were
fixed on our daughter's pussy, with its tiny tuft of black hair at
the top, as it slid ever farther down my shaft. Suman was getting
off with this; her lips were parted, her breathing uneven, and her
hand dug ever more hungrily into her crotch as she pleasured herself
beside us.
At last, Simran reached bottom, and sat motionless for a moment, the
entirety of my lund buried deep inside her.
"Does it feel good, sweetheart?" I said, admiring the look of sheer,
quiet pleasure on her radiant face.
"Yes Daddy, " she said. "It feels so good. I just want to stay here
forever." I turned to look at Suman, whose dark, flashing eyes still
stared fixedly at our daughter.
"She is beautiful, isn't she?" I said to my wife.
"My God," Suman whispered hoarsely, "my God yes."
My lund twitched against my will inside my daughter as she smiled
sweetly at her mother's response. Then Suman spoke again.
"Simran, sweetheart," she said, her voice still uneven with
nervousness, " can Mommy kiss you? Do you mind?"
My heart leapt at this question. Was Suman finally going to entirely
relax and accept the situation? And how would Simran feel about
this?
Our daughter's smile turned briefly into a look of curious
confusion, then as quickly became a smile again.
"Yes, Mommy, " she said. "I'd like that."
Suman sat up, moved forward, wrapped her arm around Simran's neck,
and drew our daughter's lips to her own. I watched as Suman's tongue
darted hungrily into Simran's mouth -- and as Simran quickly
adjusted to the movements of her mother's voluptuous lips and began
returning the long, passionate kiss.
By now, I could no longer be still; I began slow thrusts with my
lund into our daughter's warmth, fighting off the sting of imminent
orgasm, trying to make it last as I watched my wife and daughter
kissing curiously, hungrily, at each other.
I took Simran's right hand and cupped it around one of her mother's
huge, pendulous breasts, and watched her eyes grow large as she
fondled a woman's breast for the first time.
Her mother's lips still locked to her own, Simran managed to utter a
pleasurably surprised "Mmmm, " in response to this new experience,
and I, involuntarily, began fucking her harder, finding it more and
more difficult to contain my own excitement. Without interrupting my
rhythm, I tore off my t-shirt and tossed it aside, drew a deep
breath and leaned backward to better my view of this unspeakably
erotic moment.
Then suddenly, Suman drew back from our daughter's lips, and
lavished her tongue lovingly down Simran's neck, to the space
between her barely- formed breasts, down farther to her milky white
belly -- then veritably attacked the top of her little slit with her
tongue.
"Oh!" gasped Simran noisily, as her mother's tongue dug and poked at
her clitoral hood. Suman's great bunch of hair covered my belly as
her tongue flicked frantically around, slipping now and then to
graze my lund as it pounded in and out of our daughter's warmth.
Simran's eyes grew huge with curious pleasure; she grasped her
mother's hair as though for stability, and began suddenly to buck
and hump desperately on my lund -- her mother's tongue following her
every motion -- and now she was screaming and squealing
involuntarily as her hair flew in all directions with what was
becoming her violently pleasurable ride to Nirvana...
It was with a nearly pained scream that she at last stopped dead on
my lund -- on the upstroke, with only its head remaining inside her -
- and twitched and bucked violently as Suman's tongue brought her
finally to a screaming orgasm.
For what seemed an eternity, Simran remained perched, motionless, at
the top of my throbbing lund, while her mother's head fell back to
rest on my chest, panting -- in this state of near motionlessness
everything remained until, with no warning, Simran relaxed and rode
my pole all the way back down again, hitting bottom.
This was all it took to set me uncontrollably back into motion. Like
a wild man, I began fucking my daughter nearly violently, thrusting
and banging into her as hard as I could, the juices now welling up
inside me, ready to erupt.
Simran bravely rode it out, while her mother, head still on my
belly, knees now on the floor, watched while masturbating furiously -
- and then, just as I could hold it no longer and was about to
explode, I came out too far, missed trying to get back in, and
Simran toppled to the floor.
"Oh my God!" I shouted, as my cum boiled up, ready to fly, my lund
twitching wildly in the air. Simran, now on her knees, and her
mother beside her, both at the same time grabbed reflexively for my
lund; and both of them, at the same time, began stroking it
furiously as the cum, in huge streams, flew madly into the air to
paint their faces and hair with long, glistening strings of thick
white liquid.
With what looked like a frantic motion, Suman grabbed our daughter's
hair and pushed her face to my lund, and Simran, seeming to
instinctively know what to do, took it eagerly into her mouth as I
groaned with the last spasms of my orgasm.
Suman fell back to lean against the couch, watching our daughter
suckle my fading lund, and finally brought herself off with her
hand, moaning contentedly as she at last came to satisfied rest.
Once my spasmic motions had ceased, Simran raised her head, the
remains of my cum coating her smile, and I will never forget the
look in her eyes at that moment: she looked at both me and her
mother, and seemed, without words, to be asking whether she had made
us both happy.
Suman reached out and pulled Simran to her, enfolding her in her
arms; and I slid down to sit on the floor and embrace them both.
"I love you, Daddy," said Simran, her hand massaging my arm as it
hung draped across her shoulder. "And you, too, Mommy. I love you,
too."
I squeezed Suman closer to me and kissed the top of her head.
"Does this mean we're all happy now?" I said quietly, smiling. Suman
turned her head to look up at me and her, too, smiled gently.
"Yes," she said. "I think we're all happy now."
The voice from the shadow in the corner took all three of us by
surprise. It was Radhika, our 15-year-old.
"Until Daddy fucks me again," she said, her voice angry,
bitter. "And he'll never want either of you again."
It was a beautiful Saturday afternoon in spring, and my oldest
daughter, Radhika, 15, and I were in the car, headed home from
having dropped off my youngest, Simran, at the home of a friend
where she was going to spend the night. A slumber party for 11-year-
old girls -- frightening thought, I mused with a silent grin.
Warm and sunny as it was today, I was in no hurry to return to the
indoors. I turned to Radhika and asked, "Is that old quilt still in
the trunk of the car?"
"I think so, " she replied. "Why?"
"Are you in a big hurry for anything?" I said. "I'm thinking we
ought to stop off at the park for a while. Just lounge around in the
sun. What do you think?"
"Works for me, " she said, cheerfully. "I don't have anything else to
do."
My interest, in truth, was in more than the great outdoors. I wanted
some time to speak with my daughter, alone, away from her mother and
sister and the confines of our home.
For some months now, I'd been sexually involved with both her and
her sister; and this situation, stimulating though it was, to say
the least, was beginning to fill me with a number of doubts, even
fears. I needed for my daughter, intellectually mature for her age,
to help me clear the air.
We walked across the main lawn of the park, toward its farthest
stretch where the green carpet of grass ended and the woods beyond
began. It being a Saturday, the place was full of people, dogs,
kites, and bicycles, an endless, relaxed motion of fluid smiles and
colours punctuated with the occasional shouts and laughter rising
above it.
Radhika held my hand as we walked, the quilt bundled up in her other
arm. I was a little uncomfortably conscious of the looks she got as
we crossed the lawn. Her long, wavy, dark Brown hair hung free
across her shoulders, which were bare and creamy white above the
bright red tube-top that covered her jiggling, apple- sized breasts;
and her beautiful behind wiggled deliciously in her tight,
scandalously tiny, cut-off shorts.
"You're everybody's dream come true," I said, squeezing her hand as
we passed the little lake in the middle of the park. "They're all
looking at you and envying me."
"I know," she giggled, looking up at me with her sparkling, near-
black eyes and squeezing my hand in return. "You love it, don't
you?"
I smiled; but in truth, I wasn't sure at all how I felt about it.
While my daughter might have looked a bit older than her 15 years,
she in no way looked to be of " legal" age, let alone old enough to
be hanging around with a guy of my forty-odd years.
I'd always hoped that, when in public, we merely looked like a
normal father and daughter out minding our business; but I knew we
might be as easily seen as an old lecher out with his illegally
under-aged squeeze. Just one of my growing worries.
We reached the edge of the lawn and, behind an ancient oak with a
massive, broad trunk, we spread out our quilt and sat down. The tree
concealed us from the masses of people in the distance; and on our
side of the tree were just a few more yards of grass and the edge of
the thick, quiet woods. It seemed a comfortable, private place.
"Daddy," said Radhika, her eyes suddenly serious, deep, " We haven't
made love in a long time, you know that?"
"I know, sweetheart," I said, entranced by the look on my daughter's
face. With its wide beautiful eyes and full, sensuous lips, hers was
a face that could captivate, even hypnotize.
"You're not tired of me, are you?" she said, her eyes seeming nearly
to plead. We sat side by side but facing each other, and I took her
chin in my hand.
"Sweet child, " I said, and meant it, "I will grow tired of you only
when I grow tired of living."
She leaned forward and pressed her lips to mine; our tongues danced
fervently together, exploring each other's mouths in the first real
kiss we'd shared in days. And again, as always, my passion was
aroused, and my snake tried uncomfortably to uncoil in my jeans, as
her arms, wrapped around my neck, tried to draw me even closer.
At long last I drew back, and cupped her face in my hands. Her eyes
penetrated my own with a look of deep questioning.
"I need your help," I said. "I need to understand some things."
I laid down on the quilt, my arms folded under my head, still facing
her where she sat.
"Understand things?" she said. "What do you mean?"
"I really don't know how to start, " I said. "But we -- or maybe just
I -- need to talk some of this out. Can I just say what I think and
hope it comes out right?"
"Well of course, Daddy," she said, seeming still to be dying of
curiosity as to what I had to say -- or perhaps as to simply why.
"Bear with me, " I began. "I have no idea how much sense this is
going to make. People -- or society, or whatever you want to call
it -- people have set ways of doing things, patterns, norms. Life
for most people proceeds just alike, always following those
patterns.
"And our lives - - yours and mine together, mine and your sister's,
mine and your mother's -- all of it has gone way out of bounds, way
far from any of the normal patterns. You know that, don't you?"
"Well, yes, " she said, but with a look that seemed, nonchalantly, to
say, "So what?"
"Well," I went on, "as your father I suppose it's part of my job to
help you grow up within those patterns and norms so that you'll be
able to operate like everybody else, fit in and be comfortable like
everybody else -- be normal, I guess I mean to say.
"And by having with you and with your sister the kind of
relationships that we have, I am terrified that I have made it
impossible for either of you to do that. I worry that, in some way
or ways, I may have absolutely destroyed both my daughters --
socially or psychologically, or both. Do you understand what I'm
trying to say?"
"Well yes, Daddy," she said. Her voice sounded thoughtful and
serious, but in no way particularly concerned. "But I don't feel
destroyed -- I mean, that's a strong word. I don't even feel
damaged. I feel loved by a wonderful father. So I guess I really
don't understand."
She scooted closer across the quilt, as though being nearer my face
would help her better understand what I was trying to say. I laid my
arm across her lap, my hand on the smooth skin of her waist.
"I suppose I don't doubt," I said, "that -- just within our family --
things are working out ok so far under the circumstances. But we
live in a bigger world, which you might call a bigger family. What
do we say to them about ourselves?
"I mean, surely girls your age talk together about sex, about boys,
about all that. And -- God help me, thanks to me -- you must surely
have a hell of a lot more to talk about than your girlfriends do --
but it's all things that you can't dare tell them!"
"Can't?" she said, her eyes still deeply inquisitive. And my heart
stopped for a split- second as I considered her implication that
perhaps too much had already been told outside the family. Out of
terror, I didn't want to explore this. I went on.
"I would guess that by now you're nearly at the point to where you
and your girlfriends would be sneaking around getting your first
sexual experience, sexual experiments, with boys your age, and all
of you wanting to touch and feel -- see what this sex stuff is all
about. Learning it the stupid, clumsy way like everybody else. And
I've taken that away from you. I've ruined for you a normal part of
growing up.
"In a way, I don't feel guilty. But when I look at the bigger
picture of the bigger family -- of society -- I wonder if I ought to
feel guilty. And I start to feel guilty that I don't feel guilty! Am
I making any sense?" I didn't wait for her to respond.
"And it's not just you and me. It's me and your sister. Dear God,
she's not even old enough to be thinking about sex at all -- yet
I've been fucking her as well, pardon my language. And what about
your mother? How many mothers have to try to live comfortably with
the knowledge that their husbands are fucking their daughters in
addition to themselves?"
I paused -- I had plenty more to say, but couldn't seem to find
where to go next -- and Radhika, with a calm, compassionate smile,
reached out to place a finger across my lips, as though to hush me.
"Daddy," she said, softly. "Daddy." And she just looked at me, a
hint of tears welling up in her huge, dark eyes. Moving her hand to
take hold of my chin, she bent over and kissed me lightly on the
lips, then squirmed around to lie down beside me on her belly, her
face looking lovingly into mine.
"Daddy," she went on. "I understand what you're saying. When I think
about it, I know that none of this is normal. But I just don't think
about it very often. And when I do, all I feel is lucky to share
something with my father that most girls will never know. Maybe I'm
missing out on some things they have that -- thanks to you -- I'll
never have. But they're missing out, too, on the things you've given
me that they'll never have.
"They've done things their way, " she went on, "and we've done things
our way. I don't see any bad or good. It's just different. I don't
know what else to say! I think you're just worrying too much."
"I just don't want to hurt you, " I said, " or your sister, or your
mother. We're going places where most people never go, there are no
rules, and in a way you could say I don't know how to play the
game."
"It isn't a game," she shot back quickly. "It's our life. And for
me, at least, it's beautiful. I'm in love with my father, he's in
love with me, and I don't know what more I could ask. Please, please
don't think you're hurting me. You're only making me very happy."
I lay with my eyes closed, feeling my daughter's breath close to my
cheek, and contemplating her words. It was true; I was madly in love
with my daughter -- not just as a father, but as a lover. But I was
filled with doubt. Of course, she could say what she had just
finished saying, and mean every word of it. But was she old enough,
mature enough, to know whether she was really happy, to know whether
I was or wasn't harming her -- for now, or for her future?
"Daddy," she whispered, her lips now in my ear, her body shifting to
lie partly on top of mine. "Please, just hold me, make love to me --
and stop worrying. I know that you love me and that you would never
hurt me. Just make love to me. Please. Now"
Obviously -- for now, at least -- there was no more room for
thinking or for doubts. Gently, I rolled my daughter off me and onto
her back, my arm encircling her neck, and pressed my lips to hers,
passionately probing the depths of her mouth with my tongue. She
groaned, almost gratefully, as my free hand slid under her top to
fondle her growing breasts; and by the time I had pulled the little
garment down to her waist, her pink nipples were erect, pointing
straight upward into the spring air.
Almost frantically, she grabbed my hair with both her hands as I
moved downward to trace the outline first of her jaw, then of her
neck, with my tongue; and nearly forcibly she guided me downward to
nibble and suck at her nipples.
How long had it been, indeed, since she and I had made love? Beneath
me, her pelvis rose and fell almost wantonly with the desire of one
gone too long without satisfaction. And not only her -- my lund was
hardening, straining painfully against my jeans.
As though reading my mind, Radhika reached down with both hands,
hurriedly trying, and finally succeeding, at unfastening and opening
my fly as I crouched above her. Free now, and clasped in my
daughter's hands, my lund quickly filled out to its full, stiff nine
inches.
"Lie down," she whispered hoarsely, and I did as she asked. Sitting
up beside me, she held my hard lund up vertically for a while,
staring at it and fondling it lovingly, before she began stroking it
in long, slow, firm strokes that in no time turned my merely erect
lund into an unbelievable, stone- like hardness.
Shifting her position to lie, bare-breasted, across my thighs, she
lowered her head -- her dark, fiery eyes never leaving my own -- to
touch the tip of her tongue to the head of my lund, then take it
slowly into her mouth.
Her lips wrapped tightly around me, her tongue slowly, even
lasciviously, began to bathe and suck at my swollen lund-head while
she stared, almost teasingly, into my eyes.
"More," I groaned. "Deeper!" My pelvis shoved upward, trying
involuntarily to plunge more deeply into her mouth -- while, with
her hand, Radhika kept only the head enclosed in her lips. Only when
she felt like it did she at last descend a little deeper, a bit at a
time, and with near- painful slowness, until half my lund was buried
in her mouth.
From there, and no deeper, she sucked me, moving her head slowly up
and down, never descending below the half-way point. Until, without
warning, she suddenly plunged herself down on the whole length of my
lund and stayed there -- my lund twitching uncontrollably, its head
buried somewhere deep in her throat.
There she stayed for seeming eternity, my pelvic muscles straining
to prevent my coming prematurely. At last, she slowly raised her
head as I watched the length of my shaft slide back out of her
precious mouth, then back in again, as again she descended upon me.
A few more of these exquisite, spine- tingling strokes -- which had
brought me to the very edge -- and she suddenly moved off me.
Fidgeting in a half- lying, half-sitting position, she wrestled the
tight cut-offs, and the flame-red panties beneath them, down over
her hips, down her thighs and legs, and finally off, tossing them
aside.
For a brief moment, she stood beside me on her knees, facing me,
wearing only the tube top, now crumpled around her waist like a
belt; while, shamelessly, I admired my daughter's ivory belly, her
tidy, jet-black patch, and her milk- white womanly thighs -- then she
moved again, now straddling me, sitting nearly on my balls.
With her hand, she again took up my lund and began stroking it,
jacking me off I as watched her small, delicate fingers struggling
to reach all the way around my shaft. With a suddenness as though
she'd seen a movement from the corner of her eye, Radhika turned for
a moment to her right, seemingly watching something, then turned
back, smiling curiously at me with a fleeting smile that was gone as
quickly as it had appeared.
The motion of her hand stopped and she raised herself, positioning
the now-throbbing head of my lund at the warm, wet opening to her
womanhood.
"I want you, Daddy," she breathed heavily. "I want you deep inside
me!" And not waiting for a movement from me, she suddenly dropped
her entire weight on my lund, sliding nearly painfully to its base,
impaling herself on my rock-hard lund. She whimpered -- nearly too
audibly for so public a place -- and sat there for a moment, arching
her back, thrusting her beautiful belly toward me, and squeezing
both her breasts with her hands.
Paralyzed by my passion, I lay there staring into my daughter's
beautiful face, her eyes fully staring into mine, her lustrous hair
framing her sweat- glowing features and falling wildly about her
shoulders, her hot, damp 15-year-old womanhood squeezing the life
out of my lund as her pouty lips hung open with heavy breathing.
Finally, she lowered herself forward to lie fully on my body, my
lund still buried to its hilt in her warmth, her legs clamped
tightly around my thighs. I nearly came when, of a sudden, she
darted her tongue into my ear; I grabbed her fleshy Gand with both
hands to steady myself.
"Daddy," she whispered furtively in my ear. "Daddy," she said again,
as though she enjoyed mouthing the word. "Mujhe chodo Daddy. Mujhe
chodo hard. And never stop. Mujhe chodo forever."
At this point, I could not have prevented myself, nor did I need any
urging. My lund by now had a mind of its own, the pelvis beneath it
out of control. Slowly, at first, I began stroking, plunging my lund
deep into my daughter's cunt, pulling it nearly all the way out,
then casting it deep inside again, her hips rising and falling with
my motions, her Gand- cheeks clasped tightly in my hands.
"Yes, Daddy, " she continued to whisper, her breath hot in my
ear. "Yes, Daddy, like that. Mujhe chodo! Fuck your little girl.
Tell me you love me!"
My mouth could find no word beyond a grunt; only my lund could speak
at this moment, and it spoke harder, faster, as I thrust wildly at
my daughter's womb, my Gand thrashing madly around on the quilt.
"Oh holy Jesus, " Radhika suddenly whimpered, as though nearly
crying, her lips still near my ear. "I'm coming, Daddy, I'm coming.
Don't stop!"
Our faces, bathed in sweat, were practically touching; I watched my
daughter's wide eyes light up with a frantic kind of fire; watched
her mouth hang open with her panting; felt her cunt begin to squeeze
nearly in spasms around my near- bursting lund as I pounded her
harder and harder.
With one hand still clasping her heaving little Gand, I moved the
other to pull her face down into the hair of my chest, just in time
to smother the sound of her screams as she came violently,
shuddering, shaking all over me. With an effort, I stilled my
movements to feel the spasms of her whole pelvic area as they
squeezed and vibrated throughout my own. She may as well have come
for us both.
After a moment, my lund still buried deep inside her, she lay
finally limp and still across me. It was as though she was nearly
unconscious.
But I was not. Without withdrawing from her now-sopping cunt, I
rolled us over so that I now lay on top of my daughter. Leaning on
one elbow, I looked into her eyes as I wiped the sweat from her
forehead and slowly, very slowly, moved my lund into and out of her
womb.
She whispered, hoarsely, slowly, as though in a trance.
"I love you, Daddy. I love you so very much!"
"Dear God, sweet child," I whispered with equal, exhausted
hoarseness. "How I love you, too!"
And now, unable to control it any longer, I let go of my passion. In
huge, violent thrusts, I began fucking my daughter as hard as I
could. With each throw of my hips, each plunge of my lund, I watched
as her growing breasts jiggled, as her hips moved a few inches more
across the quilt, as her eyes squeezed shut, and then open again,
with something between pain and pleasure.
We had moved a full six feet across the quilt, and my daughter was
sobbing heavily with her arms wrapped around my shoulders, her legs
around my thighs, as I finally came -- perhaps the most intense
orgasm of my life -- feeling as though I were shooting painful
gallons of hot cum into my daughter's womb. I buried my face in the
sweaty nook between her neck and shoulder to stifle the groans that
came uncontrollably out of me as I pounded her one last, violent,
painful blow before finally collapsing on top of her, exhausted,
spent, sated.
We lay there, glued together with our sweat, she sobbing and
whispering in my ear, me struggling to regain my breath.
When I finally raised my head, I let go a quiet, involuntary "Oh
shit!" in response to what I saw.
"What is it, Daddy?" said Radhika, turning alarmed to look in the
direction in which I stared.
There, barely hidden in the woods a few yards away, was a man, in
his thirties, kneeling, with his pants down, masturbating. We both
looked just in time to see him shoot his great wad of cum. It was
almost humorous -- it was as though he had just started to come mere
seconds before he'd been caught, and it was too late to stop it now.
Furiously, he jacked himself off, seemingly trying to drain it all
as quickly as he could -- then stood, pulled up his pants awkwardly,
and hurried off into the woods.
Radhika, her face still covered in sweat and tears, broke into a
giggle, and rested her head back down on the ground. Her smile was
contagious, and I caught it too.
"What you didn't know," my daughter said, trying to overcome her
giggles, "was that he was watching us the whole time."
"The whole time?" I said, astonished. "He watched the whole thing?"
"Yep," she said, still smiling. "Guess he got an eyeful!"
I was so infected with glowing love for my daughter that my self-
consciousness was gone as we walked across the whole length of the
park to get back to the car. Did we look tousled? Did we look like
odd lovers, perhaps even illegal ones? I didn't care, gave it no
thought.
My daughter's hand was clasped firmly in mine, there was happiness
in her step as we walked, and I felt no need to think about anything
else.
Until, that is, we reached the car and were dumping the quilt back
into the trunk.
"Daddy," Radhika said, her voice seeming again quiet, serious.
"Yes, sweetheart."
"I understood everything you said earlier. And you were right to
think and say all of it."
"But?" I injected -- I knew there was going to be a "but."
"But," she went on, looking deeply into my eyes, "you worry too much
about the other people. If we're different, then why should we care?
But guess what -- " she paused, almost nervously, then went on --
"We may not be as different as you think."
"What -- " I began, but she cut me short.
"It's been a wonderful day today, " she said, smiling again. "Can we
talk about it another time?"
The house was unusually warm when Radhika, my 15-year- old daughter,
and I arrived home from a Saturday afternoon spent in the park. My
youngest daughter, Simran, 11, was gone for the evening to a slumber
party, and I expected to find only my wife, Suman, at home.
But when we arrived in the kitchen, we found not only her, but her
sister, Geetanjli, as well. Both, to my surprise, were only barely
dressed -- Suman wore only a black crop-top and black thong panties,
and her sister was dressed only in one of my white button- down, but
unbuttoned, shirts, and white bikini panties.
"Just surviving the heat," Geetanjli giggled, seeing the wide-eyed
looks on our faces. "Your air conditioning's out."
Both women were giggling, and the table around which they sat was
strewn with the makings of the Marguerites

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