Chapter 4

John tapped the brake, which took the car out of cruise control, and he tapped the back of his daughter’s head. Sensing the car slowing down, Michelle gave a few more playful licks to her father’s deflating cock, then yanked his shorts back into place as he once again lifted his ass off the driver’s seat to help.

Even though they had EZ Pass, and didn’t need to worry about the prying eyes of a toll collector, she sat back quickly and threw her Jeter Jersey over herself, and quickly snapped her seatbelt in place. The last thing either of them needed was a compromising picture arriving in the mail with a summons, if the EZ Pass cameras picked up anything illegal going on in their vehicle.

The Lynch’s lived only a few minutes away from the Thruway exit, and Michelle snuggled against her father’s shoulder, as he wondered how things would unfold, after they finally arrived home.

The simple blue Toyota Camry pulled into the driveway of the raised ranch on Willow Drive and pulled into the one-car garage just before 10 pm. The entire neighborhood was quiet at this late hour in the sleepy suburb of the Capital of New York State. To the casual observer, it was just a normal father and daughter returning from a road trip to Yankee Stadium to see their favorite team take on their hated rivals, the Boston Red Sox.

However, the occupants of the consummate family sedan, pulling into the driveway of the consummate middle-class home, behaved in a way that would be described as anything but normal on the long ride home from the game.

It all started with their bodies being pressed tightly together during the 1-hour over-crowded train ride from the Stadium to where they had parked and turned physical after Michelle accidentally soaked her yoga pants while taking a roadside piss, which forced her to ride the rest of the way home bottomless, as she had gone without panties that day. By the time the midsized sedan pulled into the driveway, Michelle had a belly full of her father’s cum, and John’s fingers had been inside his daughter’s pussy and ass.

John Lynch popped the trunk as Michelle put her arms through her Derek Jeter pinstripe jersey, covering her naked body. John went into the house first to make sure the coast was clear, in case his wife stayed up past her usual 9 pm bedtime, to welcome the pair home.

Michelle opened the trunk and was hit with the stench of stale urine as she pulled her piss-soaked yoga pants out of the car. Poking his head out of the door to the house, John gave Michelle the all-clear sign, and his half-naked daughter trotted into the house and went straight to the laundry room.

John quietly walked up to his bedroom to verify that his wife was soundly sleeping in their king-sized bed before making his way back down to the laundry room, where he found his naked 5-foot-3, 22-year-old daughter bent over the high-capacity washing machine, adding her piss soaked yoga pants and Derek Jeter jersey to the dirty laundry already in the washer. Without noticing her father entering the small laundry room, she threw in the detergent and giggled to herself about the irony as she set the machine to ‘Normal’ mode.

Slipping up behind his little girl and pressing himself against her rounded ass, he reached his hands up her flat stomach and cupped her B-sized breasts. John Lynch had been fantasizing about his diminutive daughter for quite some time now, and he was hoping that the episode in the car was not a one-time deal. “You were amazing in the car Mitchie,” he whispered softly in her ear, using his pet name for her while his right hand traveled back down her belly and over the landing strip above her clit, “and I’d love to return the favor.”

Michelle slipped out of his embrace, and put an arm over her breasts, while her other hand covered her pussy. “I don’t know, Daddy,” Michelle instinctively replied, “I mean, Mommy is right upstairs; what if she comes down?” Even though Michelle, too, had been lusting after her father for several years now, she was concerned about hurting her mother and didn’t want to pull the family apart.

John Lynch reached out and touched his daughter’s chin and lovingly lifted her head until her deep brown eyes met his. “You know I’d never do anything to hurt you, little girl,” he patiently explained, “so you need to tell me. Is it that you don’t ‘want to’ or that you’re worried about your mother?”