Note: This story was dynamically reformatted for online reading convenience.
 
 Even Now (Mf, cons, rom, preg)

   DISCLAIMER: This story is a work of fiction.  Any resemblance to actual
persons living or deceased is entirely coincidental.  This story was
produced and originally distributed in the United States and is protected
by the First Ammendment guarantee of free speech, a fact which has been
upheld by the Supreme Court on more than one occasion.  If you find this
subject matter disturbing in any way, or if possession of pornographic
literature is illegal where you are, then you should not read anything
below this disclaimer.  By continuing, you tacitly agree to hold the author
blameless for any consequences that might arise from local authorities,
your spouse, or anyone else.
On the other hand, if you enjoy this story, feel free to say so.  You
can leave comments on my facebook page.  Positive comments make me happy.
Negative comments earn you bad karma and you'll come back in the next life

as a slug.  Now if you want to read the damn story, get on with it!

  
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   Even Now

   By SpectreOfHell

   Last Wednesday was the anniversary of the day my life changed forever. I
had gotten laid off in February of last year and decided to try starting an
at-home business, something my wife wholeheartedly agreed upon.  By May, it
was starting to look like I'd made a mistake since my website was crappy
and things I tried to sell on eBay weren't selling and...well, you get the
idea.  My wife continued to support me, though, because she had a great job
and earned enough to pay the bills twice over.  And she loved me, of
course. We had a really good marriage, and I can't say that anything really
was missing.  I mean, I never thought about seeking an affair or anything,
and I'm pretty sure she's never cheated on me.  That changed on Wednesday.

   Feeling bored and restless, I began doing some housework, just cleaning
up and such.  Eventually I ended up in my daughter's bedroom gathering her
dirty clothes to put on a load of laundry.  It was when I scooped up the
clothes she'd slept in that I smelled it.  The unmistakable odor of pussy.
Now, like any father, I'd noticed how my daughter was maturing into a young
woman, taking on curves and becoming a real fox, but I'd only had distant
fantasies up until then.  Vague dreams of a girl who LOOKED like my
daughter doing erotic things to me.  I never really thought my 13 year old
daughter was sexual.  Not like that.  Yet there were her panties on top of
the pile emitting the aroma of aroused cunt.

   Yes, I sniffed them.  I held the flimsy yellow garment to my nose and
inhaled her pungent aroma, and my cock swelled to such hardness that I
thought it would rip out of my pants.  I sniffed again, and again, inhaling
deeply, then rooted through the pile for more.  Not every pair had the
odor, usually her garments smelled incredibly clean to be in the laundry
pile.  She was a very clean girl, showering every day without reminder,
changing outfits twice a day.  I thought of her then, as I rubbed my crotch
and smelled her pussy.  Four and a half feet tall, straight dark red hair
hanging to the middle of her back, skin pale and almost devoid of any flaw
like freckles or moles.  She was a petite, slender girl whose slight frame
made her small tits look bigger than they were.  I'd always thought she was
beautiful, as all fathers think of their little girls, but standing in her
bedroom that day sniffing her panties and rubbing myself I realized that
she was more than merely beautiful, she was absolutely stunning.  A dream.
Still, even then I didn't think about doing anything about my sudden lust.
That would just be wrong.

   Besides, I told myself, it's not like a 13 year old girl would ever want
the sexual attention of a 35 year old man, especially not her own father. I
put on the laundry and tried to push thoughts of Angie out of my head, but
they kept returning.  And it wasn't long before I found myself back in her
room, snooping.  I wanted to know if she really was sexual.  Was that aroma
in her panties accidental' Or was my baby playing with herself, making
herself orgasm at night and putting that delicious smell into her little
panties?  It didn't take long to discover the shocking truth.

   Under the edge of her mattress was a stack of papers printed off the
computer and stapled together, the edges rough from many readings.  Crowded
in small fonts were a dozen or so stories printed off the internet.  Porn.
More than that, each and every story dealt with father/daughter incest.  I
sat on her bed absolutely stunned and more horny than I'd ever been in my
life.

   Could this be true?  Was Angie fantasizing about me?

   No, I told myself.  She's fantasizing about a father and a daughter
having sex.  It was fantasy, and that's not the same as reality or even a
desire for reality.  I understood that.  I could fantasize about the
lingerie models in my wife's catalogs, but that didn't mean I'd risk my
marriage to fuck one.  Angie might fantasize about this sort of thing, but
that didn't mean she really wanted ME.

   And then, a few minutes later, I found the photo album.  It might have
been innocent had I not already found her stash of porn stories.  It was
small, only five inches square, but it was filled with photos of me.  Angie
was an avid photographer, and there were already a dozen albums in the
living room of shots she'd taken.  I never knew she'd taken so many of me.
There I was lounging in my chair, washing the car, mowing grass shirtless,
swimming, all sorts of things.  It was surreal.

   I laid down on her bed to let my spinning head settle down.  No matter
how hard I tried to tell myself I was misinterpreting things, all I could
think about was that my little girl had sexual desire for me.  Her own
father.  And God help me, I wanted her in return.

   But what should I do about it?  I knew the right thing to do was to
pretend I'd never found any of this.  She'd outgrow the fantasy and move
on. She'd date, she'd have sex with boys her age, she'd be normal.  She
never had to know that her perverted father was lusting the hell out of
her. She'd never have to decide how to rebuff my awkward advances, or to
feel the shame of being a victim of incest.

   Somehow I found myself in the living room still holding the album and
the stories.  Shaking, I put them down, unable to make myself return them
to their hiding places.  So it was that Angie returned from school an hour
later and walked into the house oblivious to what was to come.  I couldn't
make myself move, to hide the things, to let this just blow over.  She
walked into the living room calling for me, smiling broadly as usual when
she found me, looking so beautiful in her school uniform, bookbag slung
over her shoulder.  She let the bag fall to the floor with a heavy thump
and took a few steps toward me.  "Daddy'' she asked, noting the look on my
face.  `Are you okay''

   Then her emerald eyes found the album and the printed pages, and she
froze, a look of horror on her face.  She didn't shout angrily at me about
snooping in her room, she didn't feign innocence, she didn't try to make
excuses.  Instead she did what I least expected.  She looked into my eyes
soundlessly, then fainted.  She just crumpled into a pile on the floor.  I
rushed to her side, but hesitated to touch her.  How could I?  Yet I did,
unfolding her so she could breath, patting her face, speaking her name. 
She felt so delicate in my arms as I lifted her, so soft and warm and
wonderful.  I kept reminding myself she was my daughter.  She was my flesh
and blood.  She was the little baby I'd cradled, the girl I'd taught to
ride a bike, the precious little angel I loved more than my own life.

   It worked a little.  When I lay her on her bed, straightening her limbs
and smoothing her clothes, she was my darling again.  Yet realities
blended, and she was both my daughter and the object of my deepest, darkest
desire.  Smoothing became caressing.  My hand swept over the bare skin
between the top of her kneesock to just under the hem of her skirt,
relishing the smoothness of her young pale leg.  I caressed her hips, her
side, tummy, then lay my hand over her small breast.  It was just big
enough to fill my palm, like a little half-tennis ball but incredibly soft
and yielding even through her blouse and bra.  I touched her cheek, her
neck, bent over her as if to kiss her and stopped myself.

   Her eyes fluttered.  Opened.  She looked into my eyes, fearful and
confused.  She felt my hands upon her, she knew what I was doing and I
couldn't stop.  I gripped her hip and pulled her closer to me.  She felt my
hardness press against her.  She saw the desire in my eyes.  And, slowly,
the fear faded.  She lifted her arms and placed them around my neck. 
"Daddy," she whispered.

   I bent lower and put my lips to hers.  She returned the kiss instantly,
without hesitation, and I knew, we both knew, that there was no going back.
The kiss became passionate, and her lips opened.  I felt her tongue trying
to enter my mouth and I let it.  I can't describe the exquisite joy of
wrapping my tongue around my daughter's smaller one, tasting her mouth,
breathing her breath.  I pulled her even closer, and she turned into me. 
Her leg came up and draped itself over my legs, locking us together.  The
kiss ended wetly and I found myself staring into her eyes again.

   "We don't have to do this," I told her.  She answered me by putting her
hands on my cheeks and pulling me into another, longer kiss.  My hands
found her breasts again and she inhaled sharply, released the breath in a
stifled moan.  I discovered her nipples where hard beneath my palms. 
Things began to happen quickly after that.  I slid a hand to her ass,
squeezed, then got it under her skirt to touch her panties.  My fingers dug
into her thighs from the rear, and with her legs already parted I had no
trouble reaching her pussy.  She stiffened and moaned again.  "Daddy," she
hissed.  "I love you, Daddy."

   "I love you too, Angie," I groaned in reply.  I pushed my hand through
the leg opening of her panties and my fingers encountered her pussylips. 
She was wet and getting wetter.  She stiffened again as I delved into her
soft folds, but she lifted the leg she had draped over me higher, giving me
more access.  My finger slid into her opening without resistance.  Not a
virgin, then.  Somehow, I thought that would make me angry.  It didn't. 
What did it matter if she'd had another lover?  She was mine now.  Mine.

   I did what I did to her mother.  I curled my finger inside her, seeking
that cluster of nerves someplace behind her clit.  It was awkward in that
position, so I withdrew my hand and moved to the front, making her roll
onto her back as I did so.  She spread eagerly for me, without shame.  My
hand dove into her panties again.  I felt a tuft of soft pubes above her
slit, then I was inside her again.  She cried out and clutched me as I
fingerfucked her.  Her pussy began to make wet squelching sounds.  I rubbed
her clit with the side of my hand as my finger explored her interior.  This
time I found her g-spot, and within a minute she was thrashing against me,
cumming, crying out, beautiful face scrunched up, tears leaking from her
eyes.

   She kissed me hard when it was over and pushed me away from her.  I
obeyed, wanting nothing more than to force her to do anything.  But she
wasn't rejecting me.  She got me onto my back and sat up on her knees.  She
wouldn't look at my face, but I saw the expression on hers.  She was
consumed with sexual desire.  My baby girl.  Her hands fumbled with my
pants, got them open, then it was my turn to stiffen and cry out as she
grasped my cock and pulled it into the light.  "Wow," I heard her mutter as
she began to stroke me.  She cast a nervous look at my face.  Nervous? 
Now?

   Then I watched in mute surprise as she quickly squirmed out of her
panties and tossed them to the floor.  With almost no hesitation, she swung
her leg over my hip and mounted me.  I tried to speak, to tell her we
shouldn't do this, that it was wrong, that she didn't have to do this, but
I couldn't.  God help me, I wanted it too much.

   She rose up and reached under her skirt.  I felt her hand on my cock,
aiming me upward.  Then I felt her soft, wet pussylips on the head, felt my
cock pressing into her, splitting her folds, lodging at her opening.  She
released my cock and pressed herself down.  I don't know which of us
shouted loudest when it went into her.

   It was unreal.  It was like it was happening to someone else.  I
couldn't actually be on my daughter's bed with my cock inside her.  She was
a child, for Christ's sake!  Yet her 13 year old pussy was stretching,
taking my cock into her body inch my inch as she worked herself up and down
on me.  I felt her juices run down my shaft and over my balls.  I'd never
known another female to be that excited before.  The look on her face was
just as erotic.  She was so beautiful, and to see her face contorted with
sexual lust and pleasure filled my heart to breaking with deep longing.  I
held onto her hips and let her set the pace, fighting the urge to thrust up
into her.

   I'm not a stud, nor do I have a huge cock.  My wife tells me I'm thicker
than average, I wouldn't know.  I've measured it, like all men do, and
depending on the state of my arousal I'm between five and a half and six
inches long.  Neither my wife nor my daughter can closer her hand around
the shaft, though.  How it fit into my daughter's 13 year old body that day
and all the days after it was a miracle.  Yet it did.  She worked herself
on my shaft until our pub hairs met, and every bit of me was inside her. 
She gazed at me with a look of triumph, of pleasure, of satisfaction.

   "You're inside me," she whispered needlessly.

   "Oh, God," was my clever reply.

   She giggled.  "I love you, Daddy."

   "I love you too, Baby."

   She rose up and we began to fuck.  You can imagine how tight she was,
being so young and so petite on top of it.  I felt cum boiling out of me
almost right way and fought it.  Incredibly, she beat me to it and began to
tremble in orgasm after only ten or so strokes.  She pressed her feet
against the sides of my legs, still in her shoes.  She clutched my belly
where she leaned to support herself.  She shook like a sapling in a
hurricane as her tiny young cunt rippled around my shaft.  I lost it.  With
a cry, I grabbed her hips and thrust up into her.  She shrieked as her eyes
sprang open.  My cock throbbed inside her and the first hot jet of sperm
shot into her.

   "Yes!" she screamed loudly.  She churned her hips, milking me, and I
came harder than I'd ever done in my life, consumed with an orgasm that
left spots dancing before my eyes, my breath coming in labored gasps, and
every muscle in my body twitching.  I felt her stiffening as she came
again. Not even her mother could cum like that.  I held onto her as I
pumped my cum into her, not thinking until later what I was doing.  Pumping
my seed into my daughter's unprotected womb.

   Finally it was done, and she collapsed onto my chest.  We couldn't speak
for awhile.  We just held each other and panted, catching our breath,
letting the buzzing in our brains subside.  I stroked her back, her hips,
the backs of her thighs.  She felt so tiny on top of me.  She was just a
child, and I'd fucked her.  I knew I should feel shame, remorse, guilt, but
I didn't.  She'd wanted it.  She'd been the one to fuck ME.  No, I had very
few worries.

   She stirred at last and lifted her head to look at my face.  Hers was
framed by her flaming red hair, and I felt my heart catch in my throat.  My
God, how could anyone that beautiful want me of all people?  "I'm sorry,
Daddy," she said.

   "Huh?'' was my brilliant reply.  "Baby, you...I...we didn't...'' I shut
up.  She was smiling.  She understood, I think, and nothing more needed to
be said about it.  We both wanted it.  There was no shame here.  No blame.

   "You won't tell anyone, will you?'' she asked.

   I squeezed her ass with my hands and pushed my cock up into her again.
She gasped then giggled.  "Of course I won't," I told her.  "You know I
couldn't, ever."

   "Me neither," she agreed.  "Our secret.  I love you, Daddy."

   "I love you too, Angie."

   "I mean it Daddy," she said, unsmiling.  "I love you.  Not just like my
Daddy.  I'll never love anyone else."

   "Don't say that," I admonished, feeling for the first time a sense of
regret.  "You're too young to know what love like that is."

   It was the wrong thing to say, of course.  She looked at me with pain in
her eyes, mouth slightly agape.  I was suddenly keenly aware that my cock
was only half shrunk and still lodged inside her body.  "You don't believe
I love you, Daddy?''

   "Baby, that's not what I meant."

   "I never would have let somebody I didn't love fuck me, Daddy."

   That shut me up.  She used the word "fuck," and more than the thrill of
hearing her curse like that was the realization she was right.  She was my
sweet little angel, not a whore, and she'd given herself to me.  To me. 
Her father.  "Oh, Angie," I groaned, pulling her to me.  "I love you with
all my heart."

   Her smile was as bright as the sun.  "Oh, Daddy," she sighed.  Then we
were kissing again, and I was hardening again, and she was moving atop me
again.  I held her and vowed that whatever happened, I would never let this
go.  I would never let her go.

   A year has passed since that day.  There've been a lot of changes, and
getting to the place where I am now hasn't been easy.  But those are tales
for another time.  Now I'm going to go wake up my daughter.  It's almost
time for her doctor's appointment, and I need to help her shower.  And of
course, we'll probably fuck again.  You should see her sleeping in my bed,
so beautiful at 14, even with her belly swollen with our child.  If you'll
excuse me, my love needs me.

  
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