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Content: cafe au lait.txt (Mf inc ws)
Author: Blerg3
Story title: Cafe Au Lait

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Cafe Au Lait (Mf inc ws)
by Blerg3

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A daughter's slow seduction of her father finally pays off.
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Thomas Carroll, forty, wandered downstairs at approximately
nine-thirty am, scratching his chin and yawning. The rich smell
of coffee already floated through the air, and his stomach
rumbled as he entered the kitchen where his wife and daughter
were having breakfast.

Emily was in great shape, even at thirty seven, and in her
skintight running gear, it really showed. His wife of nineteen
years, and still every bit as sexy as when they'd met. He wasn't
too bad himself, he thought as he sat down, grimacing ruefully at
the bacon-free table. Still, you had to pay a price, and things
like that were the price.

He would usually be out there running with Emily every Saturday,
but his knee had been acting up recently, so on doctor's orders
he was taking a break. It wasn't so bad, he enjoyed spending lazy
Saturday mornings with their daughter Sandra, watching TV or
playing the occasional card game, but he could almost feel
himself getting fatter, and craved the exercise.

He poured a bowl of cereal, blearily came very close to pouring
coffee on top of it, but was corrected just in time by Sandy.
Sitting back with a cup of it under his nose, he slowly began to
wake up. He watched Sandy affectionately as she sliced an apple,
buttered a piece of toast, her thick red hair waving, loose and
wild about her shoulders.

It was quite amazing, he thought, how their daughter had ended up
with this stunning display of colour while his own hair was
black, and Emily's straw blonde. Pure luck of the draw. Though,
looking at the teen, that luck of the draw was beginning to show
through in other ways.

She was wearing her usual nightwear, one of his old t-shirts, a
soft baggy thing worn and holed at the shoulders and with the
Cure's album art for Disintegration emblazoned across the front.
It fell halfway to her knees, but even so she was looking quite
shapely- particularly her legs. Her mother's legs were pretty
fantastic, one of the things that had drawn him to her when she'd
been about the same age, but if he was totally honest, Sandra's
were well on their way to spectacular.

He felt a little ashamed at the thought, comparing his wife to
his daughter, and in such a typically male way, but hell, they
were right there. As was the rest of her. She caught him looking
her way and grinned widely, her bright green eyes flashing with
amusement. He'd seen that look a lot recently and wasn't entirely
 sure what it meant, but compared to the horror stories he'd
heard from colleagues about their teenage kids, he'd take any
relatively happy look.

He looked over to Em and shrugged. She smiled, kicked him
affectionately under the table, and pushed her chair back.
"Alright kids, I'm off out." She placed her empty cereal bowl on
the counter, then returned to the table to give him a quick kiss
on the forehead. "I'll be back in an hour or two, if the weather
holds up. If it starts raining, I'll be back sooner. You two have
fun."

He finished the remainder of his coffee pensively, and poured
another cup while Sandy tidied her plate and bowl, placing them
by the sink before turning back to him.
"Hey dad, should I wash up?" He smiled.
"Thanks love." Yeah, he'd definitely come out lucky with the
teenage lottery.

He finished his cereal and passed the bowl to Sandy, up to her
elbows in foam, large yellow washing up gloves comical on her
small hands. She'd tied a knot in the t-shirt at one corner to
keep it out of the way, incidentally pulling it up at that side
and revealing half a bare cheek.

If he was only twenty years younger and someone else's father, he
thought with amusement, sitting back at the table. Suddenly, a
thought occurred to him and he looked back sharply- was she
wearing panties? No, come on, he told himself. If she is or
isn't, it's not a big deal- she's at home on a Saturday morning,
only us here.

He remembered all too clearly an embarrassing period less than
ten years previously when she'd gone through a phase of refusing
to wear them, and their attempts to get her to at least wear
trousers to school instead of the dresses she usually favoured.
Now he could remember that with a grin, but at the time it had
been awkward to say the least.

However, now she was in her teens, she could definitely choose
for herself whether or not to wear underwear, none of his
business. He took a banana from the fruit bowl and tried to get
his mind off of the subject of his daughter's panties. Still...
he looked over at her again. He didn't think she was wearing any.
But, the more juvenile part of his brain said, she's got a cute
butt.

And the irritating part was, it was right. He couldn't help but
watch the slight movements of fabric across it as her arms moved
in the soapy water, even with the growing certainty she was going
to turn around and catch him staring. Reach up, he thought, just
put something on a high shelf, so I have confirmation one way or
the other and I can stop thinking about it.

He was slightly alarmed to realise he wanted her not to be
wearing anything, like the early days when he'd lived with Emily
and had her tease him in a similar fashion. Was this all a sort
of horny nostalgia? Or, he realised with a stronger flash of
alarm, was his own daughter actually teasing him? The internal
conflict only grew as he realised how shocked he was by the idea,
yet how much he wanted that to be the case.

If I leave the room now, he thought, go and do something else, I
can forget about it, at least for now. That's all I need. Then
when Emily gets back, I can hop in the shower with her, maybe
talk to her about it. Or, another part of his brain said, sort it
out now. Just ask her. They were always honest with each other,
it couldn't hurt.

"What, dad?" Sandy said, turning to him, gloves dripping on the
floor. Oh god, he'd asked her. Said the question out loud. No
choice but to blunder on, if she had heard, backing out now could
leave the situation in an incredibly awkward vacuum.
"I was just wondering if you were wearing any underwear, young
lady." He attempted to make it sound as fatherly and jovial as
possible, but that was a sentence you couldn't ask anyone over a
certain age without it having different connotations, and he
could hear them ringing out the moment he'd said it.

She stood there, and he wondered if that was it, he'd ruined
their happy father-daughter relationship- and then she blushed.
"You noticed."
"I noticed?" He echoed, confusedly.
"I do just like the way it feels not wearing any, but why else
would I be going without right now?" There was a sudden lurch in
his stomach, like a bowling ball dropped onto a trampoline.

"You wanted me to see. Sandy, why? You're my daughter!"
"I know- but I'm going to be honest here- that's part of it. I
think about you, a lot. And about mum." Thomas shook his head as
though he could dislodge what he was hearing, the shock feeling
as though his brain was being flushed through with cold water.
"I just don't get it. Of everyone in the world, all the cute
teenage boys and girls out there, your own parents?" She blushed
more deeply, lowered her head.
"It's weird, I know it is, but that's sort of why. It's taboo.
Exciting. I fantasized a long time, but I think I'm old enough to
decide that I don't just want a fantasy, dad."

He wasn't sure how to react to any of this, it shocked him to the
core; but some undercurrent, the same part that defiantly told
him she was attractive, had tapped into that excitement she
described. It was wrong, broke all the rules, but precisely for
that reason it was hot. However, that was fantasy, the reality
struck him as something that just didn't fit into his world.

"What would your mother say?" He said, almost in desperation to
find some point that would at least buy him time to think. Sandra
looked at him sceptically.
"What do you think, dad?" He winced. Emily. She'd always
advocated some... well, slightly unusual points of view on such
things. She'd told him once, back before Sandy was born, that sex
between family members struck her as a good idea, at least early
in life. He couldn't remember her reasoning, only the look in her
eyes as he pulled a face that told him she thought he was being
narrow-minded.

 God help him, it was one of the things he loved about her, that
she could take a viewpoint that struck him as unnatural and
utterly shatter his convictions with solid reasoning. Sandy had
clearly inherited that mode of thought, and more besides. Of
course, if Sandy had mentioned this fantasy to Emily first then
she would've worked through it, and probably seen no reason for
her daughter not to go ahead and try for what she wanted. But
while Emily said these things, he'd seen no evidence to suggest
that if he were to actually act on any of them it would go down
well with her. So, what to do?

"Are you alright, dad?" Sandy asked, showing obvious and touching
concern.
"I'm okay. But it's a shock, Sandy, I'm just processing. In any
case- have you talked to your mother about this?" She hesitated,
then nodded.
"I thought she'd understand- well, better. Dad... haven't you
wondered why she's out running right now?"

Thomas looked blankly at his daughter.
"She's running, like you said. Exercise." Sandy dropped the
gloves back by the sink, pulled out a chair, and sat across the
table from him.
"She's been giving me some time and space with you. I didn't
expect... I mean, I sorted of acted on the spur of the moment
today. I had a longer plan, but..." She grinned wryly. "Well."

Comprehension dawned slowly but inevitably, one of those moments
where you see the ball headed for your face, but can't seem to
stop thinking and dodge the thing.
"You mean to say, my wife, your mother, has been giving her
teenage daughter space to develop a relationship with her
father?" Sandy nodded cautiously, as though he might explode.
Instead, he laughed, suddenly, as long and hard as he could
remember ever having laughed at anything. When he'd recovered to
some degree, and Sandy was looking at him with that concern
again, he managed to catch his breath long enough to speak.

"Sandy, this is incredibly confusing. But I think we can say you
have the best mother you could hope for, and I have the best
wife. She's crazy, but I love her. So much. And I love you. And
I'd be lying to myself and insulting you, and your mum, if I
said... well, that I wasn't attracted to you. So there you have
it. If- if she's given... this, whatever it is, the go ahead, and
I can't object without both being a bad dad and husband and even
lying to myself, then I guess it's good. Okay."

The moment the last word was out, it was as though he'd popped
some massive bubble of tension and confusion, everything was
alright again, however odd the circumstances and morals might be.
It felt as though after days working at picking apart the Gordian
knot, he'd simply been handed a few bits and pieces and a simple
instruction manual, and on fitting them together finding he'd
crafted a sword.

But now what? Sandy was smiling.
"We're a weird family." He nodded agreement.
"The weirdest. But I'd also be inclined to say we're among the
happiest and oddly enough, most issue free. You'd be a fantastic
daughter even if I hadn't suddenly discovered, well, this." Sandy
grinned.
"That's the weirdest thing, isn't it? We can say it now, it's out
in the open, but it's still difficult. It's like the first time
you try swearing in front of your parents and it turns out it's
okay, but you still find it strange to do so. But... hell. Dad,
you know what?"
"What, love?" He replied, relishing the moment. There was a pause
as they looked straight into each other's eyes over the kitchen
table, hers that fantastic green, his a clear blue.
"I want to have sex with you."

Even knowing it was coming, it was delicious. An electric shock
ran down his spine, his heart rate and breathing spiking
instantly, like the first time Emily had told him she loved him.
Despite her absence, the moment served to deepen that truth, and
reinforce his love for her- as well as to tent his boxers like a
cathedral's spire.

"Sandy- you too. I can't bring myself to say the sorts of things
I want to say, but you can be sure I'm thinking them." She broke
into a wide smile.
"Like what? I've seen a lot of porn dad, read a lot of stuff
online. I'm pretty sure I'll enjoy hearing it, whatever it is.
Even from my dad."
"I want to-" It rang out shockingly loud in his head; 'I want to
come on your tits.' But his throat somehow wouldn't loosen enough
to say that to his daughter. He'd said a lot of far dirtier
things to Emily over the years, but there was no way he could
have when they first met, and this felt similar. He sighed. Sandy
giggled.

"You're too nice, dad." She looked down at the table, then caught
his eye again. "I want to lick honey off your cock." It didn't
even register for a moment, sounded so unnatural his brain
blanked it out. Then it caught.
"Sandy!" She laughed richly.
"You've gone red, dad. Who knew you were so easily embarrassed?"
He broke into a grin, then slipped easily from his seat and
around the table, catching Sandy by the sides as she made to run
and tickling her until she screamed with laughter.

He fell back in her chair, Sandy collapsing into his lap in a fit
of giggles. Catching her breath, she looked over her shoulder
mischievously.
"What's that I feel against my back?" He was all too aware of how
he was pressed up against her, but even more so of a certain
slippery feeling on his leg.
"I might ask you the same about my leg." She looked down, then
slid from his lap, turned and sat back down on his knees, lifting
her t-shirt.
"Oh, you mean this?" she said casually.

He'd known for a little while now that she wasn't wearing
panties, but that was the moment it really clicked home, as he
saw the pink and slippery parting in her flesh, its topping of
fine rust-red hair, and the glistening patch on his thigh. He
caught the front of his boxers with a thumb and hooked it over
his cock, letting it fall heavily forward, suspended at forty
five degrees right above her wet slit.

He saw her eyes widen as she took in the size of it, and grinned
in the realisation that he was bigger than she'd expected, always
a pleasant reaction. She looked up at him and giggled.
"My, daddy, what a big cock you have!" He beamed back and kissed
her forehead- fitting enough that she would play on how they used
to read red riding hood together when she was little.
"All the better to fill you with, my dear." He leered.

She laughed, then leant back and slowly pulled her t-shirt off
the whole way, dropping it carefully on another chair.
"And how about these, mister big bad wolf?" She said as she
pushed her chest forward, but the line was a little forced, and
he could detect some real anxiety in her voice. He thought of
Em's fairly substantial chest, and could see why she might be
worried about how he would see her own.

However, any worries were entirely unfounded. Her breasts weren't
large, but pert and perfectly sized for his hands, a dusting of
freckles across their upper curves, small tan nipples upturned
and erect. He leant back in his chair and surveyed her
contentedly.
"Sandy, I can hardly believe you're my daughter sometimes. You're
fucking beautiful- more so than I ever could've imagined you'd
grow up to be, with my genes in there- you've got your mum to
thank for all that." She slid slowly forward until his cock was
pressed upright against her flat belly, her breasts pressed
firmly against his chest, and kissed him.
"You're such a liar dad, and you know it." She slipped back
again, and he felt a taboo thrill as she wrapped a hand tightly
around his cock with a grin. "You look great."

Abruptly she let go, and started to rise to her feet.
"But first, I've got to go and pee." Thomas caught her thighs and
sat her back down.
"I don't see why you need to go anywhere for that..." Reaching
round her, he caught the handle of the large glass jug they used
for orange juice in the mornings, and slopped the remainder into
his empty bowl, before holding it up in front of her. A slow
smile spread across her face.

"Aha, daddy has a secret fetish?"
"Well, maybe not a very secret one, but yes I do- I might well
even blame little you for it." She laughed hard, clapping her
hands delightedly.
"Because I...?" He nodded, slightly shamefaced. She grinned ever
wider. "Oh, I love that." She caught the jug and lowered it as he
spread his legs until she was sitting with her legs spread wider,
bridging the gap, with the jug on the floor beneath them.

She closed her eyes as he watched intently, and within seconds
the first spurt of urine burst from her and rang against the
bottom of the jug. She opened her eyes again with a grin, and
seeing Thomas smile, continued, the steady stream of pee
spattering into the jug, the pitch of the ringing changing as the
level rose inside it.

His face was ecstatic, and she couldn't help but giggle, missing
the jug slightly and spraying the tiles beneath his chair, which
only made them both grin wider. She finished and waited as the
last few drops fell, and he picked up the jug and put it aside on
the table, and kissed her. Even as his lips met hers, she felt
his hand brush down through her pubic hair then curve under,
slick against her wet skin. A finger probed, gently found its way
inside her and began to move lightly, somehow touching just the
right places to rapidly build waves of pleasure.

Thomas felt an odd thrill that Sandy should respond so well to
exactly the things that worked on Em- he'd heard, though he
couldn't remember where, that such things were occasionally
inherited, but it was something he'd never expected to find out
first hand. He could feel her moving around his finger,
tightening and releasing, hear her slight gasps as his fingers
found other sensitive spots. His daughter. Every time he thought
it, every fresh realisation of the facts was another perfect
thrill (and slight touch of guilt, but that would pass).

"If your mum could see us now..." He said.
"She'd be taking her clothes off already." Sandy replied. "You
know... mum taught me to masturbate when I was younger?" He
laughed.
"You needed teaching?" She tilted her head and smiled.
"Not really, but she gave me some good tips- and her teaching
method was very... hands on." She pulled his hand away, face
showing some reluctance, and slid from his knees to the floor
beneath the table.
"What's up?" He asked her. She grinned playfully, only her smile
showing beneath the edge of the tablecloth. "Nothing. But it's my
turn now."

She put her hands on his knees and slid forward, the tablecloth
brushing her hair back wildly from her eyes, and slid her lips
over the tip of his penis. She paused with the tip just beyond
her teeth, those sparkling green eyes looking right up into his,
gaze electric, before turning her eyes down again, and slipping
her lips further down. He held onto the edge of the chair, white
knuckled. She wasn't taking him particularly deep into her mouth,
but her lips and tongue were expert, and the waves of pleasure
were threatening to wash him over the edge already, only half a
minute in. She seemed to sense that and slowed, rolling his penis
gently around her tongue then slipping back, a strand of saliva
snapping to her lip. She wiped her mouth bashfully, then grinned.
"Am I doing well?"
"There aren't any words to describe it." She smiled happily.
"That bad, huh?"
"The worst."

Her lips tightened around the tip of his cock again, tongue
circling, joined by her right hand moving on the shaft, and
suddenly her left hand caressing his testes. The motions were
regular but the combination and timing was magical, and he rose
to near orgasm in seconds. Without removing her mouth she felt
carefully on the table behind her, catching the handle of his
half full and still warm coffee, and managed to bring it round
without spilling any, pulling her head away as her hand grew
faster, pushing him over the edge.

She tilted the coffee mug, rim to the underside of his penis as
it hit him hard enough his hips jerked, spurting creamy load
after load into the warm black coffee. Just when he thought he
was done she slipped her free hand to the base of his cock,
stroking the shaft and balls lightly at the same time, sending
another wave of pleasure ripping through him, and more sperm
splashing into the mug.

He let his head fall back, eyes closed, as the orgasm ebbed,
feeling literally drained. He could feel as she moved from under
the table, and hopped up in front of him to sit on its edge. As
soon as he could easily speak again he lifted his head.
"Where on earth did you...?" She gestured vaguely with the coffee
mug.
"I had some tips from mum. That, and my imagination I guess."
"You have always had quite the imagination. That was-
spectacular. Incredible." She fixed her eyes on his as she
grinned and lifted the coffee, took a sip. He pulled a face.
"That can't taste great." She smiled wryly.
"Honestly, it doesn't. But I wanted your cum inside me, and I
didn't want to do something like gag if you shot straight in my
mouth, so this is the first thing I thought of." She tilted her
head and drained the cup, then wrinkled her nose.
"Bitter."

Thomas was hit abruptly with the memory of the first time Em had
taken him in her mouth, and her comment at the time, with the
same nose wrinkle, the same inflection on the one word. He
laughed out loud.
"You are incredibly like your mother, you know." Emily lifted a
foot to his lap, lazily playing with his shrinking cock with her
toes.
"Well, that's a good thing, isn't it? And speaking of her, what
are we going to say, going to do when she gets back?" He grinned
at her.
"We? This was all your idea, I was seduced." Sandy gasped in mock
outrage, then grinned back.
"Like that makes it any better for you." She pointed a finger
dramatically. "In the eyes of the law this was adultery. And
incest? Have we done enough it would still be called incest?"

He frowned.
"I think so. I'm hazy on all the legal issues, but at the very
least you could say it was incestuous." Sandy looked amused, and
slipped back forward to his knees.
"It's probably illegal as hell whatever, what with me being short
of the age of consent... so why quibble over the details?" He had
to grin at that.
"True, true. Well, whatever the case may be, I think the best
solution when your mother gets back is that we allow her to
deduce instantly everything that happened in that way she always
does, and then we join her in the shower." Sandy smiled eagerly,
emerald eyes glittering.
"That sounds like a plan, dad. A fantasy of yours?" He kissed her
forehead, and grinned.
"I can't say it wouldn't be fantastic."