Note: This story was dynamically reformatted for online reading convenience.
 
 We Love Lucy, Part Three

   by Knight of Passion

   Story Codes: M/F, voy

   ----- My stories are works of fiction, and should not be interpreted as
condoning illegal acts.  Be smart.

   Please send comments, feedback, questions or criticism to
x.knightofpassion.x@googlemail.com, or check my blog at
http://knightofpassion.livejournal.com.

   Knight ----

   How are you supposed to slip back into your usual life when something
extraordinary happens to you?

   It's a simple enough question.  When your world changes, how are you
supposed to change it back?  How, for example, do you fuck your beautiful
wife while she is wearing your teenage daughter's underwear, sharing your
darkest fantasies about savouring the tastes and sensations of her virginal
body, and then shower and change and go on with your normal, mundane
existence?

   How Becky and I got through the next few days, I have no idea.  At
first, we were almost delirious with lust and guilt - slightly more lust on
Becky's part, slightly more guilt on mine.  The most innocent remark, the
most casual contact with Lucy, would be enough to get our hearts pounding.
To this day, I can't remember how many times we screwed each other over the
next week or so, but it was enough to make Becky walk like a cowboy by the
time we'd finished.

   Gradually, though, the memory of our incestuous fantasy began to fade. I
had no idea what Becky's comment about "big plans" had meant, but a part of
me was glad that we had descended no further into that dark, forbidden
world.  Instead, we satisfied ourselves with spying through the peephole,
usually with Becky on her knees, her lips massaging my tumescent prick as I
watched Lucy change her clothes.  Okay, it's not exactly The Waltons, but
at least we were limiting ourselves to a little harmless voyeurism.

   On a bright, cloudless Saturday, a little more than two weeks after the
incident with Lucy's underwear, Becky took our daughter to the mall to buy
some clothes, a strange females-only practice involving something called a
"summer wardrobe".  I spent the day around the house, taking care of a
handful of maintenance jobs I'd been putting off since Christmas, and
setting up a special little treat for my beautiful wife.  I had barely
finished putting my tools away when Becky's car pulled up in the driveway
and the two women in my life skipped up the path carrying a half-dozen bags
each.

   I greeted them at the door, and listened patiently to Lucy's excited
description of every article of clothing she'd seen in the entire mall. 
Becky busied herself in the kitchen, preparing her speciality, Mamma
Armstrong's Unauthentic Lasagne which, despite Becky's mother's resolutely
non-Italian origins, was wonderful.  We chatted as she cooked, and I poured
her a glass of her favourite Californian merlot.  We ate in the dining
room, swapping jokes and telling stories, enjoying each others' company.

   After dinner, we settled in the lounge, chatting amiably about work and
school, and generally catching up after a typically busy week.

   "Well," I asked at length.  "What would you two ladies like to do this
evening?"

   "I might just go hang out in my room, study a bit," said Lucy, but Becky
frowned.

   "We see little enough of you as it is, young lady.  C'mon, your studies
can wait til tomorrow, why don't you relax tonight?  It is Saturday, after
all.  What would you like to do?" she asked.

   "It's okay, mommy -" Lucy began, but her mother had clearly made her
mind up.

   "Spending time with your elderly parents isn't so bad, is it?" she
asked, and Lucy shook her head.

   "Not so bad," she conceded with a cheeky smile.

   "Well, then.  Let's do something together.  Something fun.  What do you
do when you stay over at Bethany's house?  Or Clare's?"

   "Well, uh..." replied Lucy thoughtfully, nibbling her lower lip.  "We do
make-up and stuff.  Sometimes we give each other facials."

   "Oh," said Becky with a wicked grin, "I'm sure your daddy would love to
give you a facial, sweetie." I spluttered into my wine glass, my cheeks
colouring.  Becky looked at me with an expression of artful innocence.

   "I don't think so," I managed to croak, trying to banish the image of
Lucy's pretty face streaked with splashes of her daddy's incestuous seed.
"I wouldn't know where to start." Lucy frowned in thought once more, while
Becky shot me a sultry look and licked her lips.  I grinned sheepishly, and
she giggled.

   "What?" demanded Lucy.  "What are you doing?"

   "Nothing, sweetie," Becky replied.  "I'm just teasing your daddy.  I
don't think his big clumsy fingers could cope with a facial.  What else do
you do?"

   "My friends and I play truth or dare, sometimes.  That's pretty fun."

   "Truth or dare?" I said.  "I haven't played that since high school.  I'm
game."

   "That's decided, then," said Becky.  "Mike, would you pour me another
glass?  Oh, and I guess Lucy can have one too." I glanced at her, but she
smiled winningly, and held out her glass.  "If you want one, sweetie?"

   "Okay, mommy," said Lucy eagerly, and I moved to the kitchen, filling
three glasses with the plum-coloured merlot.  I hesitated for a moment,
then swallowed half of mine and drained the remains of the bottle into the
glass.  I had no idea what Becky was planning, but I was certain I would
face it better if I'd had a glass or two.  By the time I returned, the two
women in my life had made themselves comfortable on the couch.  I handed
them each a glass, and we all took a sip.

   "Do you like it, sweetie?" Becky asked Lucy as the teenage girl licked a
stray droplet from her lip.

   "Yeah," came the reply.  "It takes like berries.  And vanilla?"

   "We've got a naturally refined palate here," I joked to Becky, and Lucy
quirked a curious eyebrow at me.  "I just mean you've got a very developed
sense of taste, honey," I said.

   "Drink up, sweetie," Becky encouraged.  "Wine is one of the best things
about being an adult." Lucy obliging took a larger mouthful.  "Good.  So,
truth or dare.  Who goes first?"

   The first few rounds of the game passed peacefully enough.  Becky
eschewed questions and asked for dares without hesitation, including
dancing around the room wiggling her butt "like J-Lo", as Lucy demanded,
then did a very sexy rendition of Marilyn Monroe's "Happy Birthday Mr. 
President" routine; Lucy favoured us with an off-key rendition of a pop
song I didn't recognise, and admitted she would rather kiss Brad Pitt than
Orlando Bloom; and I allowed Lucy to apply a wax strip to my shin, only for
her to pull it off savagely, tearing out a handful of my hairs by the root,
then was forced to confess that I watched American Idol late at night when
everyone else is asleep.  We drank more wine, answered more questions,
thought up increasingly silly things for each to do, and generally enjoyed
ourselves as any other wholesome all-American family might do.

   Eventually, it was Becky's turn once again, and she smiled wickedly. 
"Dare," she decided .  Lucy considered for a long moment, theatrically
drawing out the moment, then smiled at her.

   "I dare you to kiss daddy," she said.

   "Such a dire punishment," Becky replied, and leaned over, brushing her
lips against mine.  "Satisfied?"

   "No!" Lucy protested.  "Not like that.  A movie kiss, with your tongue."
I raised my eyebrows at Becky, who merely grinned and nodded eagerly.  I
leaned in toward her, and if a movie kiss was what Lucy wanted, a movie
kiss was what Lucy got: our lips meet in an open, hungry exchange, our
tongues darting in and out of each other's mouths.  Becky has always been a
wonderful kisser, and, over the years, I've picked up more than a few
tricks that delight her.  At length, I leaned back, and shot a glance at
Lucy, who was watching us with shining eyes and an expression of utter
fascination.  "Was that what you had in mind?" I asked her, and she nodded
mutely.

   "Good," said Becky, running her hand through her hair then taking a long
sip of wine.  "Now, whose turn is it?  Lucy: truth or dare?"

   "Uh..." she frowned in thought, then grinned happily.  "Dare."

   "Well, I guess it's only fair if I dare you to kiss your daddy," Becky
said coolly.

   "A movie kiss?" Lucy asked sceptically, and her mother nodded.  "Uh, I
don't know if -"

   "If you don't want to, we can stop playing," I said hastily, blind-sided
by Becky's suggestion, but that only seemed to make up Lucy's mind for her.
She got to her feet and crossed over to me, then knelt by the side of the
armchair.  Slowly, she ran the fingers of her right hand through my hair,
and leaned in close.  Our lips touched, and the contact was electric.  I
slid my arms around her waist and pulled her deeper into the kiss, thrilled
by the illicit touch, carried away by the sweet perfection of her teenage
mouth.  Damn, but my baby girl tasted of merlot and ripe cherries, and I
knew at that moment that I was lost.

   After what seemed like a lifetime, Lucy broke the kiss with a final
brush of her tongue against my top lip.  She leaned back on her heels and
smiled happily.  "I did it."

   "You certainly did," Becky agreed, her face flushed with desire. 
Knowing her fantasies as I did, I could only imagine how aroused she had
become during our kiss.  "Was it nice, sweetie?"

   "Yes," Lucy said quickly, then giggled.  "I mean, it's only the second
time I've ever done it, and daddy's a lot nicer than Lewis Abernathy."

   "You kissed Lewis Abernathy?" I asked incredulously, then caught myself.
"Uh, I mean, that's okay, honey.  I'm glad you liked it."

   "Am I a good kisser, daddy?" she asked softly, and I swear I heard Becky
give a long, low moan of desire.

   "Are you kidding?  You're the best!" I exclaimed, pulling her close and
planting a sloppy, but strictly paternal, kiss on her moist lips.

   "Hey, you two, knock that off or I'll get jealous," interrupted Becky
playfully, swatting Lucy's butt.  "It's daddy's turn now: truth or dare,
stud?"

   "Truth," I decided, unwilling to surrender myself entirely to the
perverted desires of my beautiful wife.  As thrilled as I was by the
unexpected kiss and the sexual frisson in the room, and as hungry as I was
for my daughter's perfect teenage body, there was still a small part of my
mind advising caution.  If Becky looked irritated at my hesitant choice, it
was quickly replaced by an mischievous expression.  She got to her feet,
and instructed Lucy to do the same.  They both stood in front of me, and,
without warning, Becky pulled open the front of her dress.  Her black bra
was trimmed with lace, and her breasts were straining against the fabric.
"Whose tits do you like better, Mike, mine or Lucy's?" I shook my head,
trying to think of something light-hearted that would get me out of this
situation, but Becky anticipated me.  "He can't make a fair decision if he
can't see yours, sweetie," she said to Lucy.  "Why don't you show him?"

   Without hesitation, Lucy grasped the hem of her top, and pulled it up,
exposing her beautiful teenage breasts, so pert and firm that her white
lacy bra was a mere decoration.  They were almost identical in size and
shape to her mother's.  "I, uh..." I said, then cleared my throat.  "Uh, do
I have to answer?"

   "Yes," said Becky forcefully.  "And just so Lucy doesn't get an unfair
advantage because of her sexy new bra, I think you should touch as well as
look."

   "I don't think -"

   "C'mon, daddy, you have to," Lucy insisted.  "Don't be so lame."

   Turning my attention first to my wife, I ran my fingertips gently up her
flat stomach, then around the beautiful globes of her tits.  I squeezed
gently, feeling their resilience, teasing her nipples with the very tips of
my middle fingers.

   "Okay, I think that's enough," Becky said with a smile.  "Now try
Lucy's."

   I'm strangely proud that my hands barely trembled as I reached for Lucy.
As I had with her mother, I brushed my fingertips gently over the smooth,
unblemished skin of her stomach, rising, inch by inch, to her pert,
youthful breasts.  Lucy took a short, sharp breath, closing her eyes as I
softly, slowly, stroked the underside of her breasts.  One touch, one
gentle motion, was all I could do - I yearned to squeeze them tight, just
the way her mother likes her tits to be handled, but I couldn't.  If I did,
there would be no way back.  No way back at all.

   Christ, I wanted her badly.  I reached out, upward, my fingers slowly
encircling those perfect orbs, ready to worship them "Whose do you like
better, daddy?" Lucy asked softly, and I looked up to meet her sultry gaze.

   "I like - I like them both the same.  It's a draw.  You're both
perfect." I didn't move my hands.  I didn't touch her again, but I didn't
lower them either.  I was frozen, caught between desire for this perfect
nymph, and the fear of what would happen if I surrendered.

   "Well," said Becky, her voice little more than a whisper in the
oppressive silence.  "It's getting late.  Perhaps it's time for bed."

   Her gaze still locked on mine, Lucy nodded once, and knelt in front of
me, slipping her arms around my waist.  The double meaning of my wife's
words hung in the air, but Lucy seemed oblivious.  I responded to her hug,
wrapping her up in my arms.  "Goodnight, daddy," Lucy breathed, as I held
her tight young body against me.  The air crackled with a sexual charge. 
There was no doubt about it: we were both thinking the same thing.  Lucy,
her eyes half-closed, leaned toward me, her moist lips parting in open
invitation.

   "Goodnight, sweetie," I stammered, awkwardly kissing her on the
forehead. Lucy took a half-step back, glancing at her mother for
reassurance, but Becky met her daughter's questioning gaze with a serene
smile.  Lucy frowned for a moment, the nodded once, a gesture of acceptance
and determination.  "Goodnight," she said again, then, elegant and poised,
walked out of the room.

   I watched her leave, then exhaled deeply.  I looked over at Becky to
find that she was still smiling.  "What?" I asked, a little irritated by
her calm.

   "Nothing, darling," Becky replied, getting to her feet.  "My big stud of
a husband is going to fuck his naughty little teenage daughter, that''s
all."

   "What makes you think that?"

   Becky looked at me censoriously.  "Well, partly because of the way she
rubbed up against you just now, partly because of the look on her face when
you didn't kiss her, partly because I can smell hot, wet pussy in here and
it isn't just me, but mostly because I'm not a fucking idiot, Mike."

   I opened my mouth to reply, but could think of nothing to say.  Becky's
gaze drifted down to my crotch, and I was suddenly aware of my straining
erection.  Good God, had I really just been holding my daughter against my
throbbing cock?  I reached for my wine, and drained the glass in a single
gulp.  Fantasies were one thing, but was I really capable of fucking my own
daughter, of taking her virginity, of making her a woman?

   I would have spent longer pondering the question, but Becky had clearly
waited long enough.  Leaning back on the couch, she pulled her dress up
around her waist, exposing her bare snatch.  "Come on, stud," she breathed.
"Come show your naughty little girl what a nice daddy she's got."

   Well, if my wife wanted to play, I had an ace up my sleeve.  While she'd
been shopping with Lucy, I'd exercised a little technical know-how, and
arranged a wonderful surprise for her.  Her expression of hot, sluttish
desire, coupled with my throbbing erection, told me that this was the right
time.  "Comfortable?" I asked her, sitting beside her on the couch.

   "What are you doing?" she asked suspiciously.

   "I'm just asking if you're comfortable, Becky.  I thought we could watch
a movie together."

   "Michael, sweetie, I love you, but I don't want to watch a movie with
you right now.  I want to ride your cock until your cum dribbles out of my
fucking mouth."

   I thumbed the remote control, and the widescreen TV on the opposite wall
sprang into life.  Becky's brow furrowed as she tried to figure out what
she was seeing, then her eyes widened.  There was no doubt about it: we
were looking at Lucy's room.  The view was the one Becky was accustomed to:
taken from the peephole at the back of our closet, we could clearly see
Lucy's desk, dresser and bed.  "How did you..." Becky began, and I smiled.

   "The wonders of internet shopping, darling.  A six-megapixel camera
wirelessly networked to the PC in my office, and to the TV, in case we want
a live show.  I hooked the -" I paused as Lucy entered the picture.  "Now
we can watch together," I whispered.  Lucy had wasted no time in
undressing, and was now wearing only a pair of baby-pink cotton panties. 
Her beautiful breasts, those same breasts I had squeezed so gently, were
tipped with hard nipples that were every bit as prominent and tempting as
her mother's.  Slowly, her eyes closed and her breath coming in short
gasps, Lucy stroked her fingers over her tender breasts - over the exact
spot I had touched.  Biting her lower lip in pleasure, she squeezed her
firm young tit, her fingernails pressing hard into the flesh.

   Suddenly, silently, Becky stood up.  She quickly pulled off her dress,
and discarded her bra.  I enjoyed the show, watching my beautiful wife
strip as she watched our daughter touch herself, but Becky wasn't in the
mood for me to indulge myself.  Without looking at me, she dropped to her
knees, and leaned over on all fours.  "Do me, Mike," she breathed, her eyes
fixed on the screen.

   There is a time and a place for teasing your partner, and I was smart
enough to realise this wasn't it.  Quickly shedding my clothing, I knelt
behind her, and ran the tip of my rock-hard erection from Becky's clit to
her asshole and back again.  Her pussy was dripping with her juices, her
lips gaping a little, ready for her man.  Without hesitation, I pressed the
tip of my cock against her hot, greedy hole, and slid inside her.  She
gasped and hissed in pleasure, her eyes never leaving the screen.  I looked
up in time to see Lucy throwing her panties into the hamper, the soft curve
of her hip and ass clearly on display.  My daughter's fingers were slipping
between her thighs as she made her way to the bed, where she sat propped up
against the pillows, and spread her legs wide.  Wasting no time, she slid
two slender fingers between the delicate lips of her beautiful pussy,
dipping deeper, then withdrawing so she could sweep the tip of her middle
finger around her swollen clitoris.  He fingers gleamed with her sweet
juices.  Her free hand mauled her tits, squeezing them and scratching at
the bountiful flesh.

   As we watched Lucy thrust her slim fingers into her tight, drooling
pussy, I pumped my cock into Becky's welcoming snatch, matching the rhythm
exactly.  The thrilling connection seemed to drive Becky over the edge, and
her usual stream of dirty talk dried up, replaced by animalistic grunts and
moans.  I took her roughly, meeting her desperate, frantic lust with my
own, pounding my thick cock deeper and deeper into her wet cunt.  Almost
immediately, Becky sobbed with sweet release, her vaginal muscles holding
my cock tightly, squeezing me like a fist, milking my seed until I could
contain myself no longer.

   As my spunk boiled out into Becky's slippery snatch, I looked up at the
screen in time to see Lucy throw her head back.  There was no sound on the
camera, but there was no mistaking the movement of her lips.  My baby girl
gasped as her orgasm washed over her, and moaned what could only have been
the word "daddy".  I forced myself deeper into Becky's willing pussy in an
explosion of lust and desire.  My baby wanted me, and I wanted her. 
Nothing could be more natural.  Nothing could be more perfect.

   Utterly drained, I pulled my slippery cock from Becky's well-fucked
hole, releasing a miniature fountain of our juices which ran down her
smooth, slim thighs.  We half-fell onto the carpet, and I gently pulled
Becky around so her head was on my shoulder, her hair cascading over my
chest.  On the TV, Lucy leaned over, clicked off her light, and the screen
fell dark.

   "You're such a good daddy," Becky sighed, and closed her eyes, drifting
off into an exhausted sleep.

   And that was when I decided.  To hell with the consequences: I was going
to fuck my daughter.



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