("`-''-/").___..--''"`-._ `6_ 6 ) `-. ( ).`-.__.`) (_Y_.)' ._ ) `._ `. ``-..-' _..`--'_..-_/ /--'_.' ,' (((' (((-((('' (((( K R I S T E N' S C O L L E C T I O N _________________________________________ WARNING! This text file contains sexually explicit material. If you do not wish to read this type of literature, or you are under age, PLEASE DELETE THIS FILE NOW!!!! _________________________________________ Scroll down to view text ------------------------------------------------------- This work is copyrighted to the author © 2015. Please do not remove the author information nor make any changes to this story. All rights reserved. Thank you for your consideration. ------------------------------------------------------- Crazy Miracles by Caduceus (no address provided) *** After a veteran firefighter gets into a motorcycle accident, a medical emergency causes him to become closer to his 20 year old daughter than he ever wanted to. The mental and physical turmoil of it breaks him down to a point of being able to analyze himself in a new light. (MF, inc, reluc, mast, oral) *** I don't really know where to start. I guess I'll say that miracles happen. They are unplanned, unexpected and sometimes downright crazy. On my phone I have a picture of a beautiful 20 year old girl in fancy underwear. The picture is special to me. More so every day. I should probably delete it but I just can't. I am a 44 year old, happily married man. You might be thinking that it is not that unusual for a middle aged guy to have pictures of young women. This one is. I took the picture myself and she is smiling right at me. The demented part is that the girl is closely related to me. My daughter Kelsea is 20. Thanks to a motorcycle crash and Percocet I was able to take a picture of her in her sexy underwear. That's just the tip of the iceberg. First let me set up the scene. I am 44 and I have been a Kansas City firefighter paramedic for 22 years. And I was an amateur boxer for most of that time. And thanks to my wonderful wife, who let me be the head of the household, and our strong family values (without being religious) we had a pretty happy home with three respectful kids who turned out great. Not really a single black sheep. I'll paint myself now as kind of a hard-ass, authoritarian dad with an affectionate side and a fantastic sense of humor. Far from being an outlaw biker of any kind I was more the Texas-marshal type. I got my values from my formidable father on our farm but I was the kinder, gentler version. At least I liked to think so. So my kids respected me, obeyed, and had reverence for the fire fighter/macho hero thing. And we had real love in our family. My middle child, the only girl, was always beautiful. She strayed the farthest from the nest to attend college at Arizona State nursing school. I was pretty nervous about her leaving home because I know what guys are like. And my Kelsea has a tight, hot little body, blue eyes and unfortunately one of the sexiest, feminine, delicate, fuck-me voices I had ever heard. And with her expensive blonde highlights she really is stunning—and painfully inviting to the attention of lustful minds. I know she is sewing her oats by partying and drinking underage out there in the painted desert. I am pretty sure that's why she went away for school with some of her friends—just barely safely out of driving distance from home. But she is a good girl down to the core. I tried, heartbreaking so, to grin and bear it that my baby girl is out there like an inviting little lamb in a wolf den. I always tried to push thoughts of any guys getting their rocks of on my little girl out of my mind because I just could not take it. The anger, rage, the sinking feeling in my stomach well up. I kept it to myself mostly but it used to really sicken me. I literally saw red. I am kind of cured of that now. One little motorcycle crash this summer and I suddenly became more popular than the queen of England. What happened was an old lady with a driver's license that expired a decade ago blew through a stop sign and flipped my Harley softail--with me on it. I broke my tibia, fibula, 2 ribs, a couple bones on my right hand, my nose, and cracked my skull a little. I was on my way home from work after we had an actual structure fire at ruddy apartment building. The news made a huge deal of it since they had been on the scene of the fire where we rescue 6 little black kids from the top floor where a drugged out heroin addict was running a day care. There is one shot of me carrying a black baby down the ladder. That kind of shit is what people think we do all the time but it really only happens once in a blue moon. The job is mostly stupid people calling ambulances for rides to the hospital for minor reasons. More than half of it is watching TV. with the boys, and bullshitting. On an average 24 hour shift we can get anywhere from 4 to 10 hours sleep sometimes. We love getting actual fires like that though. So it was quite a coincidence that I had one of my most "heroic" shifts right before leaving my blood all over the hot pavement. When I woke up groggy the next day after being unconscious overnight in the ICU there were about 30 people in the waiting room. Family members, some guys on my crew and other firefighters. There were also a couple news teams. I guess I became a big local story that people followed for a few days. My 15 minutes of fame. With the opiate pain medicine flowing through my IV I was high as kite and feeling the love of the universe when they first interviewed me. I sent my hopes and prayers out to the family of the lady that hit me saying I didn't want to press charges. I had no hard feelings at all. It was just an accident. I was "fine, and strong as ever" and would" be back to work soon". They took that sound bite and did a 90 second segment on how strong I was—they showed old boxing promo photos, the picture from the firefighter calendar we did a few years ago for as much a farce as a fundraiser. It was just a cliché hunk fireman thing for the desperate housewives that watch TV all day long. "Hero hunk with a heart of gold" was their catch line. They really made me look good though. My family DVR'd all this shit and eventually made a DVD out of it. The press really hammed up my 'heart of gold' thing for the evening news. Heart of morphine would have been more accurate. All this celebrity stuff made my hospital stay a busy one. They came out of the woodwork like flies to shit. Firefighters I never met from different stations showed up to give me their support. Some brought their families. One fateful day four two women got back to my room by saying they were my cousins. But they were really just two 30-something chicks who had been following me on TV and thought I was the sexiest man they had ever seen. One of them was chubby but the other was a hot brunette who wanted me to sign her ample tits. I was flattered and amused. I humored them until my wife came back from the cafeteria. The hot one still had her breasts exposed and was sitting on my bed stroking my hair. My wife was already stressed out but that sent her over the edge. She threw a fit in the hospital and after that she cut my guest list to only family and close friends. The hospital was mostly just a circus anyway. Except for the titanium rod in my tibia in the first hour I don't think they really did anything else. It was pretty blurry for a couple days but really I was just dinged up. No serious injuries. I was out of the hospital after 6 days. Kelsea was home. I didn't notice in my stupor and the commotion but I guess she was absent at first and drove all the way back on day 3 of my incarceration. She felt guilty because she had turned her phone off for 2 days of final exams. So my wife, who kind of became a basket case through all this, couldn't get a hold of her. I told her I was incredibly proud of her for having the discipline to focus so much in this day and age of constant text messaging and shit. A lot of that peace and love shit that was coming out of me in the hospital isn't quite in line with my personality. But the real me is genuinely impressed for the turning off the phone thing. I had nothing remotely sexual in mind when I heard that she had taken off two weeks from her clinical rotations to help out at home and be my nurse. But now I can't look back on it without feeling a surge of lust welling up in my groin. How quickly our worldview can change under the right circumstances. Upon discharge they explained that I needed to take the Percocet for my lungs. My lungs? With the broken ribs the pain might stop me from breathing enough and I could get pneumonia. Because I was a tough guy who had always had a standard Midwestern fireman's acceptance of beer, but disdain for illegal drugs and what retards they turn people into, I had no intention of taking it once they weren't injecting the drugs into me on a regular schedule. I was doing alright with the ibuprofen that first evening. We had a nice family dinner with all 3 kids back in the house and my eldest son's wife and 3 month old daughter, our first grandchild. In the middle of the night I woke up sweating and feeling like I couldn't breathe. Whenever I coughed the worst pain I had ever felt shot from my broken ribs and I vomited because it hurt so badly. I was also worried because they warned me the broken ribs were right over my liver and I had to protect that side from trauma. There was a chance the sharp rib could cut the liver and cause me to bleed internally. My wife was crazy agitated and wanted to call 911. That was the last thing I wanted since I know the guys working at our station so I begged her not to. I thought of the discharge instructions and the pills. Kelsea was up now too because of my wife's dramatic flair. They ended up digging through the kitchen garbage together to get me the bottle of pills I had thrown away when I got home. I took one of the white pills while my ladies stayed up worrying about me and I tried to reassure them I was fine even though I was scared myself. Soon though the pill did kick in and I could breathe easier and the euphoria took away all my worry. Maybe that doctor actually knew what she was talking about. We all got a couple more hours sleep before I convinced my wife that she should absolutely go back to work that morning. That was day 2 home from the hospital that my wife returned to teach at the elementary school. There were only 2 weeks left of school and she had designed her own curriculum for her 5th and 6th grade class for the first time that year so she was already upset that a substitute had been screwing up her design for a week down the home stretch. Some of her kids would be off to junior high soon and she worried about not finishing her lesson plans to prepare them. That was the main reason Kelsea was staying home. So it was our first day alone. I woke up around 9 and when I went to pee the pain was coming back pretty strong. It was mostly just the rib pain. The fingers, and nose, and repaired tibia weren't that bad. I took another Percocet and got back in bed. The pain subsided but I started to have nausea welling up. I turned on the TV to take my mind off it but it was just blue screen that said 'searching for satellite'. A few minutes later Kelsea popped in the bedroom to check on me. She saw that I was kind of sweaty and a bit green. "What's wrong, dad?" She asked looking concerned. "Do you need another pill?" She went to the bottle on my night stand and opened it. "No baby I took one. The pain is o.k. now I just have nausea. I think it might be from the pills. I got the same thing in the hospital a couple times from morphine. I just need this damn TV to work to pull my mind away." I said. Even though I was worried that I might throw up I was smiling and even giggling as I fumbled with the remote, getting the same blue screen on every channel. "You're stoned, dad! Oh my god. I never thought I would see this." She was very amused. Her straight-edge dad who condemned pot and any illegal drug her whole life was high on drugs. "Didn't they give you anything for nausea? Did you throw that away too?" She sat down on the side of the bed and put her hand on the forearm of by casted hand. "No. I'm not high on drugs. It's just a side effect of the medicine, like this wave of nausea. And I never told anybody about it, I just dealt with it myself in the hospital. I just have Percocet, ibuprofen, and stool softener." My euphoria fed off of the smirk on her face and I laughed, which was a big mistake. I felt the rib pain again and it stopped my laughter dead in its tracks. "What do you mean you dealt with it yourself?" She pried. "I can't tell you that baby. You're too young." I said. "I just can't puke again. It really fucks up my ribs." I said as I kept pushing the channel up button and staring at the blue screen. I was indeed stoned as hell. "Now you have to tell me. I'm a nurse. Fucking come on." She was never allowed to curse in the house. But my goofy state of mind wasn't really bothered by anything except the idea of the pain and damage I would cause if I vomited. "I would watch the scenes in Desperado where Selma Hayek was really hot." I said looking right at her. My sons had set up a DVD player in my hospital room and brought a few of my favorite westerns. One of them was Desperado. "I would touch myself with my left hand it made me forget about my nausea." At first she had a surprised and serious look on her face as she sat on the edge of my bed. I guess it took her a few seconds to process the information. The she smiled ear to ear. "America's sexiest fireman has the hots for Selma Hyek?" She taunted me. "I'm sure it's a very common thing." I replied smiling and grimacing as I headed the laughter off mentally before it formed. I got a real hot flash over my whole body and sweat beaded up on my skin. The nausea was coming to a head. Kelsea noticed my sudden distress. "Just breathe dad. It's O.K. What can we do? Think of Selma Hyek." She said. No longer smiling. "No... I needed to see her. Maybe if you stripped down to your underwear and turned around so I didn't see it was you." I blurted out without even having thought it first. I was completely unfiltered and unashamed in my distress and euphoric stupor. "What?" She replied. Looking a little stunned and confused, even angry. I got a slight handle on the head rush and let a few breaths into my lungs. "I'm sorry. I'm sorry baby. That just came out without me thinking. Don't worry," I panted. "Will you just get me the garbage can from the bathroom." That big wave was subsiding and I was feeling a cool rush from my sweat cooling but I was pretty sure vomiting was inevitable. Kelsea got up from the bed and let go of my arm. I assumed it was to get the bin out of the bathroom. But she only took one step away from the bed and quickly pulled her green T-shirt off over her head and tossed it on the floor. Still facing away from me, and just as fast and effortlessly she unbuttoned her jean shorts and let them fall down her legs to the carpet and stepped out of them. I think I had my mouth open as I took in the site in front of me. She had some low cut but high riding black lacy underwear on. The kind you buy to completely revive a strained relationship. They went like strap across the middle of her but accenting both the top and bottom of the beautiful buns. They made the contour of her perfect, round, cellulite free ass look like a message from God. I followed the smooth curve down to her gap, and her sexy tanned, shapely legs and lovely feet. Then back up to her petite waist that made her butt cheeks seem that much more three dimensional. She had a matching bra and flawless slender back. Then she moved. She took another step toward the wall and put her hand on her waist. She moved her ass to the right, then the left slowly. She put her hands gently up to ass. Each delicate hand slightly off to the side of each cheek. She bent slightly at the waist and arched her back. She bent further to 90 degrees and put one hand against the wall. Then she stood back up straight. She took a step backward toward me. Then another. The ass was only a few feet from my face. The gap that showed the way to the pussy was right there. I saw the intricate texture of the panties. She spanked herself gently once, then harder. Now mind you I was fucking mesmerized. I was not thinking that this was my daughter. I was not thinking she was doing this out of love for me to distract me from being sick. I didn't wonder what was going through her mind or what expression she had on her face. The oxycodone in the Percocet dulled all that unpleasant awareness. I just got lost in the sight and texture of what all men ultimately crave more than anything else. It's genetically programmed into our hardwiring and although we can deny superstition, religion, or aspects of science and physics only an imbecile would argue against every heterosexual man's involuntary attraction to a perfect, 20 year old body. It had only been about 15 seconds but the nausea was long gone. My left hand went down to the waist band of my hospital pants and tugged forward to free the restriction of bunched up cloth that was holding down my growing erection. She reached her hands up to her neck and stoked all of her silky, mid-upper back length hair forward, covering her face. Then she walked. With slow and deliberate steps she strutted forward, around the corner of the bed and turned toward me. Her face was hidden but the outline of her young feminine body was striking. Then I looked at the details. The way her little black bra hugged her firm, beautiful, perfect little tits. She had a strict tan line that went across like she had been wearing a narrow sports bra in the sun for hours. Then it caught my eye. In the middle of her sexy petite, tanned tummy she had a shiny, silver belly button piecing. It was an ornamented rod that ran vertically through a darker central silver piece. I didn't know she had that. Maybe I never would have. The silky smooth abdomen led down to her pelvis and the slightest tan line above the skinny band of lace that ran across the front and passed for panties these days. It covered very little except for her pussy itself. She had no visible hair anywhere down there. She made her way slowly back around the bed to me. She leaned across and took my left hand and put it on her belly button ring thing. I felt the soft skin on my fingers. Then she spoke. "Is it working?" She asked me. My Kelsea's voice shattered the illusion. The show was over. My mouth closed as my mind expanded back open to take in other aspects of the universe than lust and beauty. This was my daughter. Wow. I was still stoned, numb, and disinherited. I did however notice the pressure in my groin now. It was in my testicles. It ached badly. I was having this problem less extremely the last couple nights when I thought about sex. "My nausea is completely gone." I answered as I gently took my hand back from her. She turned and squatted down quickly and picked up her shirt from the floor. "Wait. Please. You are so amazing." I told her. "Let me just get one picture. Please." I reached over and grabbed my phone from the nightstand with my good hand. I could tell she felt very awkward so I added. "Just please, Kelsea. I have truly never seen anything so beautiful in my life. Let me get one picture for myself." "Da-aaaad." She said smiling and rolling her eyes but she dropped the shirt and ran her hands back through her hair to put it in the back. She leaned one arm on the lamp of the nightstand and the other on her hip and smile perfectly as the flash lit her up. That is my special picture. "I can't believe that worked like that. You are not right in the head, dad." She said as her body language became self-conscious again. And she sheepishly gathered her clothing. "We have to get your doctor to call you in an antiemetic in case that happens again when we aren't the only ones home." The notion that a repeat performance was possible overshadowed everything she said. The idea caused a wave of contraction through my erection that was already uncomfortable itself being constricted in my pants but the testicle ache was throbbing something fierce. I was getting weary of the one emergency after another. "Shit. Fuck. Ouch. Ouch!" I exclaimed. She had her shirt back on and was just buttoning her shorts. "I have a mechanical problem." I grunted. Needing to do something to alleviate any part of it I pulled the sheet that was covering my lower body aside and hurriedly undid the bow of my pajama pants waistband and half of my dick pushed out into the fresh air. "Jesus Christ, Dad!" She said as she took a step back. "Look away. I'm sorry." I said still feeling the throbbing. "I've been doing clinicals for 5 months at the hospital and a nursing assistant for 2 years. I've seen every part of the body more times that I ever wanted to. This is just getting really weird." "I'm sorry baby. It's not just that," I tried to explain as I panted and grimaced. "I haven't well... cum... since before the wreck. My left hand can't do what the right hand could do. You know, watching the sex scenes in the hospital, signing a girls tits another one's ass, and now the most beautiful female body I have ever seen. It's just fucking building up in my balls and it's excruciating now. "I think something is going to break or something. I don't know what to do. Shit. Will you just get me some ice out of the freezer and put it in a plastic bag?" My eyes were tearing up. "I might need to go back to the hospital, baby." It felt like an emergency. She looked worried. She put one knee on the bed next to me and worked my pants down below my scrotum. "I can't see anything that looks abnormal, dad." She reached down and gently touched my scrotum. "O.K., baby. That's the opposite of helping I think. Will you just get the ice and start the car now." I spoke somewhat desperately. (Looking back on the situation now I realize how comical the whole thing is. Poor Kelsea. But it took some time to see things that way.) She seemed distressed—she was alternating between a frown and a determined look. She took a few steps toward the bedroom door then stopped for a second, swiveled around, and came back to the bed. "Dad! Listen to me. Close your eyes and keep them closed." She got on the bed and climbed over me to my wife's side and knelt down on my left side. I was still propped up on three pillows from trying to watch TV and had a perfect view of her. "Close your goddamn eyes!" She saw that I hadn't closed them at all yet. I was scared. This time I obeyed. "Think of only Selma Hayek now. Selma Hayek. And keep them closed until I tell you you can open them." She sounded so angry and authoritative. Then I felt it. A warm, blissful sensation on my cock. It was her hands and mouth at the same time. It stunned me and I opened my eyes. I saw the profile of her beautiful face with a wide open mouth and my cock disappearing into it. I looked to the left and a saw her beautiful bent over, kneeling butt in those jean shorts and lean legs. The butt wiggled as she worked up and down. Then my gaze went back to her mouth. There was still the pain in the scrotum but my body knew this was vital. Even if I had wanted to stop her my arms would have been overridden. The balls still throbbed but the sensation was building. I can't say for sure it was pleasure with all the aching, although it had characteristics of pleasure. It was more of an unstoppable will that built up in my dick. My left hand moved to the back of her head. "Whatever you do don't stop," came out of my mouth. She looked up at me. She saw my open eyes looking right back at her. She made a frown, shook her head, and looked back down. But she didn't stop. I knew she was trying to tell me to close my eyes so I didn't know it was her, Kelsea, my special girl. My lady bug. Right then everything came together and was perfect about the world. Everything in the universe led up to this. Her childhood actually flashed before my eyes. I was aware she didn't want me see her and love her like this. But I couldn't look away at that point anymore than I could have let her stop. I had the slight tinge of fear that she might stop her work after that disapproving look but I remember thinking, with one hand firmly on her head, that if she tried to stop I would squeeze my broken 2 fingers through the cast, pulverizing it so I could grab her head with both hands an one way or another keep fucking her mouth. But I didn't have to. As the big surge took over I did close my eyes. It was too intense to bear. I do not exaggerate when I say I exploded. She was a trooper as she tried to keep her mouth on it at first and keep sucking, but the tidal wave was just too much. It was like a brave little princess standing on the beach in the wake of a 50 foot tsunami. She had no idea how powerful a force was about to hit her. She was choking and gagging with her head withdrawn as her hands kept massaging up and down. When my eyes opened again that was the first thing I saw. My Kelsea was coughing as my cum dripped copiously from her mouth a few inches above my dick and a thick strand of it bridged between her bottom lip and the head my penis. As her hands kept working faithfully it shot up onto her face it a couple of spurts, even in her eye before she angled her head away and it kept gushing out into the air and down the back of her hand. As she let go and sat up I noticed there was even a small stream running down from one of her nostrils. She lifted her shirt up and wiped off her face but still couldn't open the eye. She rushed over to the bathroom coughing and splashed the sink water over her face. She gargled with it. She drank some. She blew her nose. When she came back out and made for the door to leave my bedroom I stopped her. I felt like I had to do something. I just didn't know what. "Kelsea, come over here." I said it surprisingly sternly and she immediately changed course. I motioned for her to get in bed beside me and she did. I saw her wipe tears away as she was adjusting herself to lay sideways against me on my good arm. I hugged it around her thin body. "Don't cry, baby." I said. "I'm not really crying. I was just choking from..." She didn't finish. I was still high as a kite and remember feeling intense love but not a shred of remorse. "Do you know how much I love you?" I asked. She didn't answer. "I don't think you can," I answered for her. My love for you overwhelms me. You have always been a miracle to me. I am so proud of everything you have ever done. Even your defiance in your early teen years. Even the time you crashed the car into the garage. It all has made you who you are and I wouldn't want to change a single thing." "I love you too, dad, but you're saying that because you're high and I just blew you." "No I'm not, Kelsea Anabelle Bishop. I am certain that I would say the same thing when the Percocet wears off." "So you're totally honest right now?" she asked. "Yep." "Why didn't mom help you with the blue balls thing?" She asked. "Your mom kind of took this whole thing harder than anyone else. And I love her dearly but since I have been so happy-go-lucky in the hospital she has kind of responded by being more bitchy. Probably because it just scares her that I am so different on the pain drugs. And since the signing the girls' private parts thing in the hospital I was afraid to even mention sex to her. Do you know about that?" I realized I hadn't told her. "Oh, yeah. Mom bitched to me about for a while that night. It didn't help that I laughed about it." She said. "Mom imitates the girl in a weird squeaky voice, 'I'm so sorry to intrude, Mrs. Bishop. I just think your husband is the sexiest man alive and I like had to like meet him. You are soooo lucky.'" "Yeah, I probably should've handled that differently." I conceded, smiling at her impersonation. "I smoke pot," she blurted out. "Almost every day. I like it and I don't feel bad about it except that I know you hate it." She was sounding defensive. I was mellow yellow in my high so it was probably the best time to bring it up. I didn't like it but I was really in love with her then. I realize some of it was still lust too. "Honey, you are a grown woman. You get good grades and you work hard to pay your own bills. If you don't do everything the same way I do it's O.K. I love you no matter what. I just don't want you to get in trouble." I said. "Really? Fuck. Wow. I 'm so glad to get that out. I'm so glad you're O.K with it." She said, still sounding a little nervous. "That was more cum than all the cum I have ever seen in my life total." She changed the subject. I thought to myself 'I don't want to hear about how much cum you've seen, baby.' But I didn't say that or anything like it. "I really don't know what I would have done if you hadn't been here. I would probably have a rib poking through my liver after vomiting all over the place. I would have bled out internally in this bed because I'm too stubborn and proud to call an ambulance. I'm serious. They warned me it could happen. You might have really saved my life." I told her honestly. "You mean with my mouth to mouth. Or mouth to... whatever." We were finally getting to the issue through humor. That was the elephant in the room. I have stood staunchly for sound moral values my whole life. Before this the notion that I would ever call my daughter anything beyond beautiful—in a father is proud of his beautiful little girl kind of way—or that I would ever express anything resembling lust was unthinkable. Even my KCFD brothers in arms in my squad knew better than to make any ungentlemanly comments about my daughter or they would feel my wrath. "About that... You were perfect today. I was as helpless as a little fucking baby. You knew better than me. You acted under pressure to treat an emergency medical condition in someone you loved. You did the right thing at exactly the right time. Fucked up situations that you never expect call for fucked up measures, I reckon." I was consciously swearing in a conversation to her and didn't feel bad about it. "And it was more than that. Even through all the pain and fear the whole thing was one of the most spiritual experiences of my life. You know I don't care much for believing in ghosts and fairy tales about creation but to me your beauty in my time of need surpassed everything else right up to it. I am in awe of you on so many levels, Kelsea." "You have a really great cock." She uttered quickly. There was silence while I processed it. Probably very awkward for her but not much was awkward to me on that cloud I was floating in. "We'll keep it between you and me and the walls but that is probably my favorite complement I have ever gotten," I responded. "I think your pill is peaking," she said. "No, I mean what I say." I assured her. "No I mean it too. It's like a hour or so from the second Percocet you have ever taken in your life. Do you feel better than you have ever felt?" She had a point. I still had perceptible ache in my balls but it was miles better than the agony I had been in, and I was aware of my ribs tingling, but I did feel pretty close to the best I could imagine "Well you might be right, but I mean what I say and I love you." I wanted to prove it somehow. So I tried to show I had nothing to hide. "You smell like cum, baby. You should probably take that shirt off." Everything I said during this sounded like the right thing to say at the time because I was completely high on damn drugs. Now it seems all fucking wrong. But she propped herself up and took off the shirt that was caked in semen and wet from the sink water off over her head and tossed it and came back into my arm and cuddled up even closer. "I like you like this, Rick." She said. Using my name instead of calling me dad like was normal in my family. My 22 year old son still addressed me as dad and always would. But I was high. I let it glide over. "I like you like this too, Kelsea," I reciprocated. "I have to go to my room in a minute. I have a bit of the blue balls too. I haven't had sex for six days and didn't even get a chance to masturbate yet. I got so worked up going down on you and being close to you like this that I'm really wet." Her words were not shocking to me then. "There must be something I can do to help you." WRONG thing for a father to say!! But I said it and it seemed perfectly reasonable at the time. If only I had let it stop then it could have at least been half way justified as medical necessity. "Are you serious?" She asked after a protracted pause. "Yep." "Well... I guess you could finger me with your left hand if I turn away from you while I rub myself. Are you sure? No. I'm not so sure. I'll just go to my room." "No." I stopped her although she hadn't actually moved a muscle. "I love you beyond all the silliness. It's the least I can do." So she slipped off her panties and was now naked except for her bra. She turned away from me on her side and I reached between her but cheeks and arched my hand backwards. She rubbed her clit as I worked my fingers in and out. After a few minutes of this I saw how we could do this better. "Do a 180 and put your leg up on my chest. I can get a better angle." She did and it worked. I could get my fingers much deeper inside and rub her with more skill and control. She was breathing pretty hard now. My cock which had never even gone all the way flaccid, probably due to her continued presence, was up to about three quarters of its full potential. So after a few minutes of her getting seemingly close but no cigar I had another brilliant idea. "Hey Kelsea. I have the perfect tool for this. Come back up beside me." As she spun her little ass around and got back up to me she realized what I had in mind. "No. Dad? We can't do that. What the fuck? I'm fine. Never mind." She was the voice of reason. But I was not in my right mind at the time. She was on my arm, facing away and I tuned on to my side as I held her tightly against me. My baby girl struggled to get away I would not let her. My god when I think back on it. What a monster I was. "Kelsea. Listen to me. We're almost there. We are just going to get you a fraction of the pleasure you gave me. Don't worry about the invisible walls and rules." I actually said that. "Just use my love for you and the part of my body that was made for this job that's right between your legs now. It's right there for you and it will work best. You know it. Don't make a big deal of it." I had it right there pushing up against her the bottom of her butt but I couldn't maneuver it in with neither hand available. She squirmed to get away again and squeezed her punishingly tight. "Kelsea, just put it in." I said sternly. Something no father should ever, ever order his own daughter to do in that context. She reached down between her legs with my right hand and quickly introduced between her lips. It pushed in. I didn't get waves of pleasure like I usually do when I first push inside my wife's pussy. I really was focused on the task in my maniacal obsession to finish 'the job'. And I was pretty numb from the pain meds. But she was tight and wet and as I got deeper in the pleasure seeped through. The pain flared through it all from my ribs with every thrust. I didn't care. We kept going. She was rubbing herself again. She was responding even more. It was working. I was trying to match her rhythm. Then she went off. The orgasm was delicate but obvious. I heard the panting, and felt the subtle reflexive gyrations of her body. The tingle at the base of my cock turned into a surge. We both slowed down together. My sharp rib ache subsided somewhat as I stopped moving. This allowed for the urgency in my cock to overtake it as the overriding sensation. I remember thinking that I wanted to cum again but it would be difficult with the pain and the numbness. Then I remember thinking that I had the perfect tool wrapped around my dick right now. If I had any chance it would be using my beautiful lady bug. It was the nickname of endearment I had always used for my little girl. I never entertained a sexual thoughts about her in all my life. But then the name, the idea, really turned me on. Disgusting. The notion of my power over her, my authority and currently my strong left arm that could hold her against her will as I used her body for my own gratification also turned me on. The primal instincts of a rapist animal. I had made up my mind. "Thank you daddyyyyy, UHHH!" She had started to thank me for my services in her cute, soft, little voice just I was about to start my first thrust. I startled her before she got the words out and kept pounding away. Harder. Harder. There were shots of pain but I was concentrating at the feeling building at the base of my shaft. Concentrating on getting it to the brink of release. I was losing the edge to the pain and then regaining it again as I continued the pounding. My instinct was to grab her hips with both hands and get on top of her and pin her down. But this is the only possible position I had so I cleared my mind and filled it with perverse thoughts of fucking my own daughter. I thought of her at different stages in her life and the idea of fucking her then. That last, prolonged hug goodbye in Arizona before I got back in the truck and left her to her adult life. It was strictly father-daughter affection then. Love. But now I felt myself back in that moment in the 103 degree sun. It was 2 weeks after her 18th birthday. She was sweaty wearing only a tan sports bra, white shorts, and running shoes after we had moved the last of her stuff in to her dorm room. I felt her body soften into mine. I was shirtless. I felt her tits on my lower ribs. My soft cock pushed against her abdomen below her belly button—her womb. When she finally relaxed her embrace I looked down at her moist big blue eyes, I saw her inviting lips pouting out from her beautiful face. I want to kiss them. I want my cock in that pretty feminine mouth. I was perverting a wonderful, wholesome memory to get myself off. "Fuck me. Oh yeah... fuck that pussy hard. Your dick is so big, and beautiful. Oh... Ohhh... uahhh... yesss!" She moaned between breaths. She was talking dirty to me! Kelsea was reading the situation and taking the right action under pressure. Whether it was because she wanted it to be over with, or she knew this might be hurting me, she decided to help me get mentally ready to cum in her. To finish this. It was working. Now I thought of how she took my dick into her mouth and started sucking on it. It must have smelled terrible. I had the sweats several times since I had last showered at the hospital. I noticed how pungent and musky it smelled when she pulled down my pants. She took my dirty cock in her mouth and sucked it proper, like a delightful little whore. Oh yeah. There was a time when she was fourteen. She had just gotten out of the shower. I was sitting on the couch in the living room by myself watching football. She came in wearing only her towel and sat down right next to me. I was going to be giving her a ride to her first high school dance in an hour. I think she told me one of her brothers needed to use the bathroom in an emergency and mom was in our other bathroom. I guess she was waiting to get back in to get ready. I was paying more attention to the game than her at the time. Now I was back reliving that moment and I only cared about her. Her wet, clean hair smelled heavenly as she scooted closer and leaned into me. I put my arm around her and squeezed her shoulder still focused on the game. She asked me who was winning. Then she asked who I wanted to win. I was answering without thinking but now I imagined her wet naked body separated from me only by a towel. I could feel the warmth of her body through the moisture of the towel. When it went to commercial I realized her hand was on my thigh and her body had become a young woman's body and not my little girl so much anymore. I loosened my grasp and took my arm back and reached for my beer on the table and took a sip. She was off balance and had to shift, as was my fatherly intention. So she leaned away from me and let herself collapse to a lying position. She wiggled onto her back as she lifted her legs and put them up across my lap. I didn't look down as I asked her about getting ready for the dance. I think she said she had to let it air out because Brandon was doing a number 2. It was only a thirty second time out and the game came back on. I put my beer down and adjusted back unconsciously with one of my hands on her bare thigh and the other one on her shin. She squeezed my lap tighter with her legs and dug her heel in behind be against my butt. Out of my peripheral vision I could see that her towel was askew and not covering her private parts completely anymore. I ignored it at the time and tied my emotions to the plays on TV. Now as I fucked her I was back in that moment and I didn't care about the game I cared about that clean bare pussy that was trying to get my attention. She was flirting with me. She was teasing her daddy. Was she horny thinking about the dance that night? Trying to get my attention with her sexuality? Testing me? I wasn't having it at the time but now I just wanted to take a hold of those ankles, spread those skinny clean legs and plunge between them. I wanted to teach her a lesson about what happens to sexy little girls who tease their fathers. "Fuck me, daddy!" She blurted out dramatically. "I love it... when you... fuck me, daddy." Was she reading my mind? What the hell? She reached back with her right arm and grabbed my waist and slid he hand down to my butt check and squeezed. She pulled me tighter against her. "Oh yeah, fuck me. Fuck your.. little lady bug... I love it." She cried out with her sexy voice. I now hate that she said that. That she did the dramatic dirty talking that women often do when being fucked but at the time you don't care, it just gets you hotter. It was exactly what I needed then. A deep memory found me of Kelsea on her hands and knees in her green swimsuit. It was ten years ago. She was facing away from my lawn chair at the beach on Perry Lake as she worked diligently building a sand castle when she was 9 or 10. I saw her skin tight suit bottom hug her shapely little but as she worked back and forth in front of me rocking back and forth. The bottom of the suit hugged her snugly like a pair of green panties. I could see her gap, her cameltoe, her slender little legs moving as she glistened in the sun. Her ass wiggled side to side and she spread her legs unashamedly to get a better angle. A perfect place to put at dick into. My god, as far as I knew I had never had a sexual thought about that! But I had kept staring at her that way—I had the memory. I was thinking sexually then. Probably not about her at all but I was using my lady bug as visual aid for a sexual fantasy. Oh my god! Crazy. I had completely repressed this. And the footage kept rolling. I hadn't looked away. She turned sideways, digging a moat for her castle and I saw her pelvis wiggling and rocking to and from a side profile and I still stared at it. It looked like a smaller scale of a sexy woman's, a swimsuit model's luscious ass moving, bent over... doggy-style, ready to be fucked. How much those skinny models look like little girls. I was fucking that little pussy now. The same exact round little ass was pressing against me. I could feel it. I kept picturing her rocking back and forth on her hands and knees at the beach. I climaxed inside her. I came. In my daughter. And I liked it. Suddenly I couldn't ignore the pain like there was a red hot sword jammed into my right side. I groaned as I rolled back onto my back, sliding out of Kelsea without thinking about her. I think I even pushed off her with my good arm and smashed her down into the bed and away to get leverage. After relieving myself of the lust she became nothing more to me than a vessel that had served the purpose of getting the cum out of my dick. I didn't need her anymore I just needed to take care of the pain. I discarded any acknowledgement of her in my selfish euphoria without a second thought. It gave me a dark satisfaction to withdraw from her and toss her away. The primal rapist Neanderthal thing. With my casted hand I reached for the bottle of pills. My thumb and index finger weren't broken, just constricted by the cast, so I managed to get it over to my left hand, open it and get one of the pills into my mouth. She got up quickly and said, "I'm gonna take a shower." She muttered low as she walked out of the room. "I love you." I said as she left. It is one of the only sudden, unplanned things that spewed out of mouth that I don't regret that day. "I love you." She mumbled as she stopped at the door momentarily and was gone. I closed my eyes and fell asleep. I woke up to Kelsea shaking me and tugging on my ear. "Dad! Dad! Wake up. Cecil and Mike are here to see you." She whispered with urgency into the ear she was pulling on. They were guys from my station and close friends of the family for years. I was super stoned then and it didn't hurt me. I drifted back off for a second. "Wake the fuck up, RICK! I need to clean up in here! You've been passed out for hours." She said with even more urgency now pounding on the sutured wound on my lower leg. I felt that a little and woke up. This memory is mostly a blur, filled in by Kelsea later on. She had pulled and tugged until I was sitting on the edge of the bed. Then she got me standing. She was wearing a black T-shirt and jeans now. "It smells like sex in here, dad. The bed smells like my pussy, and your cum, and lots of sweat." She whispered. "That's awesome, baby. I love you the most of anyone." I slurred as I put my arms around her and stared down at her. Her look of emergency turned to a smile and eye rolling. I was like a drunken child she told me later. "That's all great, dad. But mom will be home in a couple hours. I need to wash the sheets. We'll say you puked again a little." She led me to the dresser and was helping me get a shirt on. "I didn't puke tho... I didn't puke because you saaaved me. You are the sexiest most beautiful girl in the wurrr –old." "Dad. Listen to me. Get your shit together right now! You can't say anything about that. Ever. Can you go talk to Mike and Cecil without talking about me at all?" "Uh-huh." "You better, stoned Rick." She said. So I guess she got me out to the couch and started doing laundry, making sure to give a disclaimer about how I took Percocet for the first time today and was half out of my mind and making up stories about unicorns and stuff. I talked to my guys for a little while who were quite amused by my condition. Before I passed out mid- sentence though I had said that Kelsea was my nurse. "The perfect nurse." "The most beautiful nurse in the world." Luckily I didn't go any further before changing the subject and going incoherent. When I woke up again I remember it. The pain was back. I was still on the couch. The guys were gone but my wife and youngest son were there. It was dinner time. I forgot to hide the pain like I usually do as they helped me to the dinner table so I had to deal with my wife getting dramatic. That helped we wake up more. I was still half way altered. I sat down and looked across at Kelsea. I had half my wits about me now. I remembered what had happened but the full weight of it hadn't hit me yet. I apologized to my wife for getting sick on the bed sheets. Kelsea said that she washed the sheets and called my doctor. She would be picking up some zofran from the pharmacy after dinner to prevent me from being sick again. I noticed I was very hungry but I didn't have much will to eat. After dinner I went back to the bed and took an iburprofen and a shower. My son had gotten the satellite working again. My wife came in and we talked for an hour. Mostly about her work and the day she had had. With time the feeling of impending doom was creeping in and the pain was mounting. I kept acting normal as she went to sleep. Then as I lie awake alone in the dark with very little of the drug affecting me I let myself have it. I felt actual terror for what I had done. The real me was judging the doped up and he wanted to castrate him and then kill him. I was an abominable man. My rib pain was really ferocious too and I welcomed it. I thought that if I am bleeding internally I deserve it. I should die from my violation of everything decent. I had ruined my life and my family. At least I had a vasectomy 18 years ago so I didn't have to entertain the grotesque idea getting my own daughter pregnant. The repugnance of it all. Of me!!! But soon I was sweating and realized I was barely breathing. I decided to just get through it until my wife leaves and I can talk to Kelsea. I took one of the Percocet and one of the nausea pills and then tossed the perc bottle under the bed where I couldn't reach it. I waited in depressed misery for what seemed like eons for the pain to subside and sleep to come. "NO, Dad! Fuck you! You can't do this to me!" Kelsea yelled with a beat red face, interrupting me mid sentence. We were sitting at the kitchen table and I had just gone on my rant about how awful and sickening what happened the day before was. I had taken the blame for it to the point of saying that I deserved to die or worse for what I had did. But I had definitely criticized us both. She was livid. "I made this right in my mind all night long last night and now you are Jekyll and Hyde-ing me out of my mind!" She was tearful now. I hadn't even finished half of the things I was worked up to say but her sudden anguish took the wind out of my sails. "Take a pill, or whatever you need to do to get that close-minded, judgmental, republican piece of shit asshole back under the rock where he belongs you fucking motherfucker!" She was practically foaming at the mouth now. "Calm down, baby. It's O.K. I'm sorry." All I wanted to do was comfort her now. I got up to come around the table to hold her but I smacked my broken shin squarely on a chair and the pain floored me—literally. I went down but protected my right side as I slammed on the ground. The rib pain stung deep. Kelsea was over me asking me if I was O.K. I was breathing fast and shallow trying to tell her I was fine. There was no way I could get up. Chelsea ran to my room. "Where are the Percocet?" She yelled "I don't take those any more. Never again." I grunted. She was standing back over me. "Oh really! You can take a half you know. Look at your fucking self." She was right. I was in a bad way. It really hurt to breathe at all. "They're under the bed. On mom's side." I was still grunting. She put half a pill in my mouth and gave me a sip of water with a straw. Then she tried to give me the other half. I refused it. She left out the back door. I laid there alone waiting for relief, gasping like a dying fish in a bucket. It sunk in what she had said. She had summed up what she thought of my character. "Close- minded, judgmental, republican." "Asshole." I lamented the pain and despair I had put on her face that had been smiling and loving me minutes before. That moment changed me. I had stood by the same principles my whole life. My dad's doctrines. He WAS and asshole. What had it gotten me? I was the most boy scout, hard ass at the station. A role I wore proudly. The guys changed their conversations sometimes when I came into a room. I know some of them smoke marijuana and it always disgusted me. I preached from my soap box a lot and they respected me—but did they really? "Close-minded." "Judgmental." Or is it just easier for them to humor me and wait for me to be gone so I don't escalate a non-situation to an argument that I can't lose because I only see things my way? These were the guys I considered my good friends. Did I have real friends? I got in fights a lot when I was younger with people telling me to lighten up. I had changed a jovial mood in a room to a tense one several time a year by condemning things other people thought and did. Often in family situations. That was always O.K. with me because I knew what was right and had the integrity to stick with it. Everyone else was weak or wrong. Well what about me yesterday? I was lower than low. I had no basis to criticize anyone else. Now I had just shattered my daughter who I loved immensely and am laying alone on the floor battered, broken, and barely able to breathe. My wife is pissed at me and I am too proud to apologize to her. Is this really the guy that I am? Is this what it gets me? The back door opened and closed. Kelsea came over and knelt down beside me. I was so glad to see her. "Are you ashamed of me because I smoke pot and got my belly button pierced?" She asked me. "No. Not at all. I like you exactly the way you are. I am proud of you for being your own person." I said calmly, hiding the physical pain again and trying to breathe more normally. She just stared down at me with a look of despair. I had to say more. "I've never tried weed before. But if I did I would want to try it with you." I said to her, reaching out. "What?" She furled her brow. "Are you high again already? It's been like 3 minutes. The pill isn't even past your stomach yet." She slapped the side of my face moderately hard with one hand twice. I recoiled and raised up my left hand over it. "No, baby. Not even a little. I still feel a shit load of pain. Believe me." I said smiling between gasps at how cute her reaction was. "Then what the hell? Are you just messing with my mind? What's going on?" She asked. "You are going on. You are right. Maybe it took me my whole life to see it and now I've fallen and can't get up. But I don't want to be such an asshole anymore." "You're not an asshole. You are the most awesome dad!" She said, now defending me from myself. She took my left hand in hers and put her hand on my head. "I know what I am. You are more precious than you know. You make me better. You always have. Maybe I can still be a tough guy without being a redneck stereotype." "I didn't mean what I said, dad. You are perfect the way you are." She said still looking too sympathetic. "You did mean it and you are right. But don't worry. I really got happier when I had my epiphany. Thanks to you I think the world just got bigger for me." I squeezed her hand. She squeezed back. "Holy shit. Sorry. Holy cow." She exclaimed. "It's O.K, baby. We can talk like adults to each other now. Fuck it." I said. "Now about what happened yesterday. I meant every good thing I said about you but what I did was the most fucked up, wrong, despicable th..." I was interrupted by her hand pressing firmly against my mouth. "No it wasn't." She looked me in the eye. "We are going to handle that my way. You don't say another word about it. I had it all worked out last night. That's the way it has to be if you love me. Sshhh." She took her hand off my mouth and I stayed silent. I racked my brain for what she could possibly have in mind. She just smiled and got up. "Just relax and get your pain under control." She scampered off. Ten minutes or so later I was breathing easier. I tried to turn on my left side and push my way up. Kelsea was there in seconds helping me to my feet. "To bed now, dad." She said. That's the only place I knew to go anyway. I was starting to feel the glazed over high of the narcotic now. She helped my T-shirt off over my head before helping me into bed. Then she went over to my wife's sided of the bed, sat cross legged, and explained. "I was lying in bed last night having the distressing thoughts that I thought a normal girl is supposed to have when they commit incest with their dad." "I felt bad, woe is me, what have I done?, yada yada. I cried." She said matter-of-factly. "Then I got tired and still couldn't sleep. When the energy to keep up the normal girl reaction wasn't there it went away and I realized I didn't actually feel that way very much. I got up and went to the living room and watched the news stories about you. Especially this one. I smoked a little in the back yard." She had the remote next to her and turned the TV on. There was the channel 6 news special on pause. She pushed play and it was the 90 second piece on my as a hunk hero. She paused it again with the picture of me from the damn calendar. "Now this guy on the news here. If I didn't know him at all I would want him to fuck me. But luckily I do know him. And I want him to fuck me." She looked right at me. It was intense. "Baby,..." I tried to stop the crazy nonsense right now before she said any more but there was her hand smashed against my mouth again. "Now, dad. What you did this morning made this more fragile but if you don't fuck it up we can still pull this off and be happy, instead of sad. You have to resist the temptation to block my will on this. You said you were learning from me earlier. Do you still trust me to do right for you and me?" I nodded. I was really buzzed again and feeling some nausea but I remembered her face after I had put the pain all over it. I resolved not to do that again. Everything is alright. I should not kill her mood. I was deciding to go with the euphoria rather than fight it. She took her hand away and I stayed quiet. "And that guy that I want to fuck me there,... now that he unexpectedly took the stick out of his ass... I would want to marry him. No joking. But I can't. But I can do something super cool. I can be as close to him... as a father and daughter can ever get. She put her hand on my cock over my thin pants and stroked it. I felt the urge to resist but I let it play out. "Do you have nausea?" She asked chipperly. Maybe it showed on my face. "Yes. I ate too many cheerios." I replied and reached for the bottle of zofran. The pill just had to dissolve under my tongue and I would be alright if I hurried. Kelsea snatched the bottle out of my hands and threw it over her shoulder. "This is perfect!" she said looking like a seven year old who had just been given a pony. I didn't see how it was perfect. She shuffled off the bed and came around to my side. "We have the coolest nausea cure in the world!" She turned towards the wall, unbuttoned her jeans and pulled them down just a little. Then she took off her T- shirt. She had a white lacy bra on this time. She backed up to the edge of the bed, right in my face. She slowly wiggled the jeans down. She had white lacy panties on. The same style as yesterday but virtually see-through. Her round protruding cheeks were so beautifully formed. She kept her legs straight and bent over as she peeled the jeans down to her ankles and I could see her hairless pussy veiled through the panties. Then she walked away slowly, moving her hips side to side exaggeratedly with each stop, so sexy. I was really back into it then. Watching. Then at the foot of the bed, still facing away, she slowly worked her ass around in a little circle a few times. She climbed on to the bed backwards. To a kneeling position at first, then she got on her hands and knees and crawled backwards to me. Her luscious ass curvature blended around her hips up to her tiny waist. She started rocking back and forth. I quickly got hard and adjusted my pants. But I realized—it was because of my memory that got me off yesterday. Of her preteen ass rocking as it built a sand castle. My nausea was nonexistent now but a wave of disgust at myself came over me and a metallic taste filled my mouth. As much as I may try to have an open mind now I am not an incestuous pedophile. I had to put a stop to this. I looked past her backside up at her head and got a glimpse of the side of her face. And I remembered that it was her, my wonderful Kelsea bug. She was doing this for me. I vividly thought of the pain I had caused her. I had told her that I trusted her. Probably only because of the euphoria glazing over my sharpest emotions I pushed out the bad feelings and felt the affection. And as her petite frame and perfect ass rock gently the lust in me swelled. "Keep doing that." I said. She put more into the rocking. I let the pictures from the memory merge with the present and it hit me that it was the same sexy feminine pelvis rocking in front of me. But now I had access to it. I reached out, put my hand on her ass and caressed it. "Kelsea, look at me." She turned around. She saw my erection and slinked around and freed it from my pants. Her mouth quickly found its way down the shaft and she brushed the hair out of her face. She looked up at me with her blue eyes. She looked happy. I moaned. "Do you want to take a picture of me, daddy?" She asked. The perverse amorality of this was there in my mind. So I struggled with keeping the fortitude to keep trusting her. I knew where it was going. I knew it was going to happen or she would be crushed. I looked to the phone on my nightstand. At that angle I could not reach it. "No baby, I just want to enjoy this moment with my unrealistically beautiful daughter." I hated saying it— what she wanted to hear from me—but I loved it to. I tried to pour myself more into the pleasure of it. She kept sucking and I kept watching. Then she took her mouth away, she moved up and straddled my thighs. My cock was right up against her pelvis. It bumped against her belly button ring while she caressed it. She took her bra off. "Now, Rick Bishop, do you take your daughter, Kelsea Anabelle Bishop, to be your lover, in sickness and in health, as long as we both shall be careful not to get caught?" She looked at me with a seductive, innocent, inquisitive face. "Hell no!" I thought. "When you put it like that it sounds terrible and shatters my awful perverted fantasy." But I didn't dare say that to her now. "Yes I do. If she'll have me." Is what I said out loud. She smiled so big She raised her beautiful body up on her knees, her pelvis right above my dick and lowered herself down around it, rocking, little by little. She kept eye contact while her face puckered with sensation. It was so beautiful. It was too late to go back now. I let myself into the feeling. Hot and moist around me. She still had only gotten herself half way down my shaft. I was puzzled as she grabbed the remote control, turned her head to look at the TV, and turned it on. She replayed the hero hunk thing as she watched it and kept massaging my dick with her pussy, up and down. She had her left hand on my chest for balance. She was watching my celebrity on TV while fucking me. Like watching Fight Club while you fuck Brad Pitt, I imagined. Towards the end she lowered herself all the way down. The news clip ended and she turned back around, looked me in the eye and was biting her lip to deal with the sudden stretch and sensation from letting me push so deep up inside her womb, her cunt. She kept eye contact as she reached down and rubbed her clit. She changed her motion from up and down to a front and back rocking. Women often like to do that I remembered back to my high school days. It's more uncomfortable to me, partially bending my dick, but with the pills and the front row seat to this alluring teen girl riding me it was just fine She moved so gracefully, so erotically. Her eyes pierced into me with her mouth open in ecstasy and pain. I felt powerful without moving a muscle except for my left hand on her hip, feeling the motion of her divine body. I moved it up and caressed her breast. I gently milked the nipple. "Ohhh yeah. Yesss," she moaned. "Keep doing that. I love you... ahhh... daddy." "I love you so much, my gorgeous, sexy little lady bug." I tried to tell her what she wanted to hear, but I noticed it really gave me a rush too. Combining my endearment of her as my little girl with sex. So sick and twisted. "Ohhh... aaahh... don't cum for one minute." She increased the speed of her clit hand. "I love.... oh fuuuck... making love to you, dad... my big daddy." Her words and the tone of her panting voice and the feeling of her on my cock and her body and her eyes were really getting to me. I was all in now. The doubts and guilt were gone like the nausea. I saw her strain to keep her eyes open and look at me as she began her orgasm. The pain/pleasure look on her face was so intense. She bit her lip at first but as a surge of orgasm engulfed her the mouth opened wide, her neck arched back, and she squinted. It was so sexy I was overcome and I pulled her down close to me. I felt her breasts against my chest while her rocking subsided. Our faces touched and I kissed her on the lips. So soft. As she started to regain control of her body she kissed back. It hit me like lightning. Kissing my daughter sensually and passionately broke through another level for me (or another circle of hell). I was overcome by it now and turned my body into hers and over. My dick still deeply fixed inside her I flipped her petite little body onto it's back. Now on top of her I kept kissing her as I thrust into her. The pain from my ribs pierced through me but my ejaculation was building to the point of no return. I had my hand behind her neck and my fingers slid through her hair as I withdrew a little to look in her eyes, inches from mine. The waves of pleasure surmounted and I emptied myself into her. After the veil of lust lifted I stayed there for a few moments. Inside her. We kissed again. Tenderly. I withdrew and put myself back onto my back, with significant pain, but I didn't let it show. Both of us were lying there, sweaty, breathing heavily. She put her hand in mine and we interlocked fingers. "I love you so fucking much," she said to me. A superb complement. "I love you more than you can ever know, baby," I replied. She rolled up onto my left chest and put her leg between mine. "Can I tell you something, dad?" she asked cutely. "Please do," I answered. "Even all busted up with seven broken bones," she paused. "You are the best lover I have ever had." I just let the words sit and basked in the glory. She continued. "Not just because I love you so much more than any guy I have been with, and you are a really masculine hotty, and this is wicked exciting freaky, but also because you fuck me awesome." I was enraptured. "Don't tell mom, but that was the best sex I have ever had I think." I told her. The ridiculousness of the idea of telling mom hit and we laughed. I laughed with her. "Oh hell. What a crazy life this is, lady bug." Then I thought to add, "Crazy beautiful. You were right again. This is much better than my notion to destroy my own life. You are so wise... and I just goddamn love you so much." It was getting redundant but I didn't care. "See, dad. We're closer than we've ever been." She said sincerely. We undeniably were. *** The following morning we got even closer when we smoked pot together out of an apple in the back yard. She had brought a little with her in a bag she had rolled up and pushed inside a "Please get better, Daddy" cake she had bought at the grocery store and decorated herself. I had to admire her ingenuity. What cop in their right mind would even consider destroying a daughter's cake for her injured father? That funky skunky shit really got me feeling groovy. As we laid in the bed together naked exploring each other's bodies we told each other things we weren't expecting. I was the 7th guy she ever had sex with. Lucky seven. She lost her virginity when she was 15. To a 23 year old college guy! Had I known that at the time the guy would be dead or in jail, or both. She knew that. She had been seeing a guy at college for a few months. He is the guy she had gotten he pot from. He was a business major. She had dated a guy who was majoring in fire science when she first got to school. She met him at a dorm mixer and she says it was pretty obvious she gravitated to him because she missed me. He was really nice for a month. Then he turned into an asshole. She stayed with him for 5 months during which he made her have threesomes with him and his roommate who was a fellow fire science guy and his good friend from high school. The first time even thought they got her drunk she was so apprehensive it was kind of like rape. She got used to it after that. Eventually a girlfriend of hers convinced her to leave him. That story made my blood boil and I made her promise to let me 'pay him a visit' when I was out to visit her next in Arizona. She warmed up to the idea and that satisfied me. Then she told me that the idea of forced sex, to an extent, actually turns her on. What she was thinking about as she masturbated that first night was when I overpowered her with one arm and forced her to put my dick inside her when she was scared to. Damn, that wasn't something I would have ever done without being on hard drugs but listening to her talk about it was so sexy. If there is a hell I will end up there for that. But what was done was done. In my weakened mental state I confessed about the memories that went through my head while I was fucking her that time. About the college hug, about the towel teasing on the couch, and even about why I had her keep rocking back and forth on the bed--the memory of her as a 10 year old. She was a little taken aback at first. She said it was fucked up but the more she thinks about it the more turned on by it she gets. Then she confessed that the time she teased me in her towel after her shower at age 14 she really was horny. She had recently gotten good enough at masturbating in bed to make herself have orgasms. But in the shower she got interrupted by Brandon pounding on the door for his emergency shit. So when she came out to me she did have sex on her mind. She knew that I would want nothing to do with anything like that. But when she saw I was mostly ignoring her instead of getting upset about it she got bolder. As she lie there looking at me, trying to rub her pussy on my leg by hugging my with her legs she tried to mentally will me to touch it, even accidentally. Whoa! That got us both going. That confession transitioned into her giving me a blowjob. I did not resist at all. She was able to swallow all the cum this time since I did not blast an ocean of it into her face like last time. Then she left me to my relaxed bliss while she masturbated next to me. In the aftermath we made plans for me to take a trip out to see her the first week that mom starts school again in 2 months. She'll pay pro –rated rent for a month to make her lease extend to then so that helping her move to her own one-bedroom apartment will be our excuse. She'll take me inner-tubing on the Salt River with her friends in the desert. They all tie themselves around a cooler of beer and get drunk and high while they take in the scenery. She was going to show all her girlfriends my news story collection so I shouldn't be surprised if they hit on me and try to sit on my lap. If she's still with that guy with the good pot they will have to sleep separate anyway because I am staying with her. And when we are alone I can "bang the shit out of her until we are both satisfied and begging for mercy." It sounded like a solid plan. I made a joke that it is rare for a college daughter to get so excited about hanging out with her father. We laughed until my side was quite literally splitting. That damned goofy weed. Life was good. The guests flowed in and out of the house all day long for the next week, except we still had our weekday mornings alone before they would dare to intrude. It was the best part of the day. Kelsea even got a sexy nurse uniform from Spencer's at the mall for our last day alone together. My wife finally gave me a blowjob one night after I apologized to her. And I learned to accept myself, the reality of what happened. I acknowledged that I both wish I could go back in time and prevent it all from happening and... was glad that I couldn't. A couple weeks after I got back to work that summer I confessed to the guys during lunch that I had tried pot with Kelsea to stop her from crying about me being ashamed. That created quite a stir. The guys in my squad started mentioning that the crash had changed me... for the better. My wife seemed to think so too without saying it. I knew it wasn't the accident though, or the head injury. I would have stayed the same 'close-minded, judgmental, republican' asshole if left to my own devices. It was all Kelsea. My lady bug. My lovely teen daughter with benefits. We might both be crazy now, but she really is a miracle. END -------------------------------------------------------- This story was written as an adult fantasy. The author does not condone the described behavior in real life in any way, shape or form. Anyone tempted to act out any of the scenarios in this story should seriously consider seeking professional help. -------------------------------------------------------- Kristen's collection - Directory 83