Chapter 6: Who's Seducing Whom?

It's the little things that make the difference. Jumping into bed together might have proved fun and erotic, but small intimacies make anticipation almost unbearable and intensify desire. I held my daughter's hand as we explored the cavernous depths of the Natural History Museum in the morning. I drew her attention to items with a soft, intimate touch of her arm. I steered her through crowds with a gentle hand on her lower back or by leading her by the hand. As we admired displays I let my thumb caress her shoulder subtly.

Sasha responded to all the little intimate touches of affection. She glowed with happiness and danced instead of walking. She hugged my arm, almost hanging off it, and stayed firmly in my personal space, often bumping against me.

We chatted about inanities and the inconsequential while our eyes communicated on a different level; affection, attraction, the shy excitement of budding illicit intimacy, promises of more, desires. It made Sasha painfully attractive to me. Through her excitement I was once again experiencing young love, first love, nervousness battling a constant state of soft arousal. It was exquisite.

Lunch was a hot dog stand. Sasha playing hooky from school and me playing hooky from writing gave the day a special excitement. The afternoon was spent walking in the crisp autumn air and shopping in gourmet markets for dinner, arguing over what to have, debating, and me ceding to my daughter's wishes - roast beef with oven-roasted potatoes it would be.

I noticed how Sasha's personality evolved. It was subtle but definitive. It happens when two people feel perfectly comfortable with each other. Our father-daughter relationship melted away to be replaced by one of almost equals, of courting lovers. A maternal, mature mien emerged in Sasha. She laughed with me, smiled with me, and expressed joy through twinkling eyes. Yet she also directed me. She started telling me to do things as if I was the teenager, not her, and I let her. I began to relax and have fun and joke. In the open food market she scolded me, "Stop playing with those vegetables," as I made a crown of broccoli dance with a large carrot like Charlie Chaplain's fork and potato table dance. She frowned and advised me the rib roast I was buying was too big for two people and forced me to buy a smaller one. Before starting to cook she was stern, "Dad, wash your hands. They're dirty from shopping."

I didn't just love it, I adored it. I absolutely adored it. My little girl was taking charge, empowered by me and by her emerging comfort with my attraction. She was maturing before my eyes and through her actions and comments was claiming ownership of me. I gladly let her. It was too charming by far. It thrilled me to see so much love in her and all we'd done was kiss once and sleep in the same bed. What would it be like when true intimacy started?

I'd always been attracted to strong women. Sasha's mother had been an enchanting mix of tough female and soft sexiness, an irresistible combination. Sasha was proving to be like her mother. Watching her bustle about in the kitchen preparing carrots and potatoes for the roasting pan, a wave of love hit me.

I moved in. Reaching around her I took the peeler from one hand and the carrot from the other. With gentle pressure on her shoulder I turned her to face me.

Beautiful amber eyes framed by long dark lashes and dark eyebrows watched me intently. A small blush emerged when she understood what I wanted - her. Bending, our lips touched. Sasha's eyes closed. She pressed herself against me, her lips silken and soft and sexy. It was a sweet, intense kiss full of unspoken desires and promises of more. When it ended my daughter's eyes twinkled. Her blush faded. She smiled almost shyly, so sweet. She clearly loved being desired.

Two minutes later she was ordering me around again and I was smiling stupidly, completely happy, a playful puppy. I toyed with the rib roast and received a stern look and a, "Behave, Dad!" that seemed to make her feel good; she grinned immediately afterwards.

I pretended to sneeze behind her back in passing and added a flick of water at her neck, earning a sudden screech of disgust and a stern, "Dad! That wasn't funny!" when she saw my grin.

Sasha blossomed in front of my eyes making my heart ache. After dinner we watched TV in comfortable silence. Occasional comments were thrown out between Sasha's busy phone calls talking to her friends. Darkness arrived. With Sasha making excited noises into her cell phone I turned the gas fireplace on, switched one side lamp on, and settled back into my armchair.

On the iPad in my lap I checked Gmail. I had several new emails, all but one commenting on my latest story. I read them with pleasure before turning to the most important one.

Renpet,
I can't believe it! Thank you! Thank you! Last night not only did Dad kiss me but I slept in his bed! I actually slept with Dad and it's all thanks to you.
I still can't believe it. All we've done is kiss once, but what a kiss. Dad told me I was beautiful and sexy. I could see how he felt in his eyes. This is all so exciting! He has this really sexy smell when he sleeps, sort of leathery and Scotch mixed together, a real guy smell that's almost edible.
I don't know if I'll be writing to you again. I'll try. But if I don't, thank you so much for helping my fantasy to come true. I'll forever be grateful.
A fan,
Sasha .4843

I checked the time. She'd sent it this morning while I slept. Should I answer her? Probably. She'd expect it.

sasha .4843,
I'm happy for you. It sounds like your wish is coming true. Bravo. Clearly your subtle seduction worked. I would love to hear how your relationship goes, what happens, and how you feel about it. But I understand if you're too busy having fun to let me know.
I have one final piece of advice. Don't let love and excitement blind your eyes. Don't let arousal drive you to do something you'll regret once the heat of passion has abated. Never forget you'll hurt your father more by doing something you regret than by doing something he'll regret.
I hope you find the happiness you've wanted. I hope you'll reward me one day with details of your relationship, too.
A most thankful author,
Renpet

With a quick review I sent the email and went back to watching Unforgettable on television. Sasha ended her phone call and studied her iPhone. When I saw her smile and start fidgeting I knew she'd read my email. Her smile was the one she'd give when pleased with herself; the cutest smug expression ever. She'd used it several times today.

In the soft illumination cast by the side table lamp and fireplace I studied her face. Angular cheekbones were beginning to emerge, a sign of adolescence nearing completion. Intelligent eyes watched the television. Her hair shimmered with health, a very dark-burgundy color that appeared almost black at night and deep red in sunlight. She'd gathered it with a black scrunchy at the base of her neck, the tail thick and wavy. Expressions played across her pretty face as she watched TV; amusement, intensity, a frown. My desire for her was a physical presence inside me, strong and growing, aching. It reminded me of crushes I used to have as a teenager only much, much stronger.

SASHA WASN'T FOLLOWING THE TV show. She'd noticed Dad studying her. His dark chocolate eyes were contemplative, quiet, and full of adoration. In the low light his face was full of angles and planes, his jaw slightly darkened by day-old stubble making him appear ruggedly handsome.

She smiled to herself. Today had been wonderful. Dad had behaved like a boy, fooling around so much she'd actually had to reproach him and order him to behave. The glitter of mischief in his eyes had almost had her giggling and had definitely made her heart trip.

Sitting on the couch she experienced it again - the thrill of ordering him around, of being in charge. She adored his look of chagrin when caught being silly. She wondered what he'd be like as a lover, the thought making her shiver with anticipation. Would real sex be anywhere as good as her imagination or worse? Just think. Making love with Dad. She'd dreamed about it so much and for so long would it be a disappointment when it happened? No. It couldn't be. She could still feel how wonderful it had been to hold him in her arms, dancing in the dark with him. He moved so well, so easily.

An urge to do it again hit her. An urge to kiss him made her nipples respond. She stood suddenly, now restless.

"What's up?" he asked.

Switching the television off, she turned the stereo on, soft music filling the living room. Moving over to him she switched the lamp off.

"Will you dance with me?" she asked, taking his hand.

Emotions passed through his dark eyes and across his face as he stood. His soft smile made her heart trip again. She moved in, Dad's arms welcoming her. His scent filled her senses, his body large and firm. He moved.

She experienced heaven again, dancing slowly, music washing over her. This time she caressed his back and pressed her cheek to the front of his shoulder, his thigh easing between her legs. She pressed her body to him, breasts aching pleasantly, her pussy rubbing against his thigh, arousal arriving like the caress of a warm tropical breeze.

She looked up. A shiver of anticipation hit her. Dad smiled softly and bent his head. Sasha watched his mouth. Her eyes closed just as his lips touched hers, her heart racing. It was a perfect kiss, warm lips, his scent, pressure.

Somehow dancing stopped. Somewhere in the kiss Dad started caressing her back. Somewhere, lost in the kiss, Sasha rubbed her pussy against his thigh and shuddered, a pulse of warming pleasure flowing through her. With arousal came desire and lust and yearning for more. Kissing Dad was wonderful but not enough. She needed more. She wanted more.

Using all her willpower she ended the kiss. "Is it time for bed?" she asked.

His eyes bore into hers. A decision was made. With a smile he said in a quiet voice, "Yes. Let's go to bed."

Sasha let Dad lead her around as he shut off the stereo and the gas fire. She let him lead her by the hand as they ascended the staircase, her excitement rising with each step. She let him lead her into the master bedroom and wondered if he'd undress her. Would he see her naked tonight? Would she see him naked?

"Why don't you get ready for bed. I'll do the same," he suggested.

"Kay," she agreed, somewhat disappointed, and slipped her hand from his.

Turning to go change, he grabbed her hand and drew her back against him. She looked up. His kiss was harder, more thrilling. She felt his desire in how hard he held her and the lump in his groin. Dad was turned on!

"Okay. That will keep me. Now you can change," he said with a smile, releasing her.

Sasha danced to her bedroom to change. Drawers were opened and hunted through, pajamas and nighties inspected, none seeming right. None seemed adult enough, sexy enough, none good enough for Dad. A pulse of excitement hit her. Would they have sex tonight? Make love together?

With a flush of embarrassment Sasha realized she'd have to change her panties. They were already damp. What to wear? What would Dad like? What would he find sexy? Nervousness emerged, butterflies in her stomach, breath short.

I LOOKED AT MY face in the bathroom mirror. My hands were trembling. Nerves prevented me from sporting a full-on erection, thank God. Never the less, inside the blue and white striped pajama bottoms my cock was thick and partially erect, feeling heavy. Sasha had enchanted me with kisses and pressing herself against me and sighs and caressing my back so lovingly as we danced. I had to remind myself I would NOT have intercourse with her tonight. It was too soon. There were so many things to experience first. Yet I knew it was going to be a huge challenge not to. I so wanted to make love to her; my long-held fantasies so close to becoming reality it was thrilling.

A soft noise from the bedroom broke my train of thought. With a final deep breath, I tried and failed to flatten my unruly hair, tried on a smile, saw my nervousness shine through, and started worrying about how to behave with my daughter.

Turning the bathroom light out I entered the bedroom and all nervousness, all doubts, all hesitation magically vanished. Sasha was sitting up on the bed, covers shoved down. The bedside lamp cast a soft light over her. Her hair was untied falling in thick glossy waves. She was smiling at me sweetly, her eyes sparkling, and she was wearing my pajama top again. Long sexy bare legs stretched out on the bed, her ankles crossed.

My body reacted, my cock thickening at the sight. Before it embarrassed me I moved to the bed, lying on my side facing her. Sasha gave me a sweet smile and slipped down, rolling to face me, less than twelve inches separating us.

I didn't reach for her body. I didn't reach for her rather sexy hip under the pajama top. With a fingertip I curled her long hair behind one ear. My hand slipped behind her neck and, with a smile, I drew her face towards me.

Our lips brushed gently against each other in an intense not-quite kiss. We paused, inhaling each other's breath. Lips brushed again, teasing, light, so erotic. Excitement built. On the cusp of intimacy we played, lips touching so lightly it almost tickled, backing off less than an inch, pausing, brushing again with slightly more pressure, pausing with lips touching and easing away. Her warm, clean, minty breath washed over me. A subtle smile emerged on her face and she kissed me lightly. When I tried to press my lips to hers she backed off, pretty amber eyes twinkling with amusement. She repeated the move, her lips softly brushing mine, so immensely erotic, and backed off again when I eagerly pressed forward.

The seductive tease thrilled me. Where did she learn these things? I'd never had a girl titillate me so effectively. She was dangerously close to eroding all my restraint, her artful playfulness only intensifying my desire.

When Sasha teased me again with the lightest brush of her lips, her beautiful expressive eyes twinkled with pleasure and pride at my groan of agony. She giggled lightly.

Without realizing it I'd developed a full erection. I became aware of it when it strained inside my boxers and I sensed cooling wetness at the tip, all from her teasing little kisses. Desire exerted its iron grip on me. I needed to kiss my daughter. I had to kiss her properly. It was an imperative.

Moving suddenly I rolled Sasha onto her back and rose to lean over her. She laughed quietly, face full of excitement. She was enjoying my agony; an affirmation of my attraction to her and confirmation of her skills as a seductress of her father.

"I'm gonna kiss you now," I warned.

"Kay," she answered.

"I mean really kiss you."

"Kay."

"Not that teasing stuff you just did," I warned with mock seriousness. "A full-on proper lover's kiss."

Sasha giggled quietly. "Kay."

"Prepare yourself," I added.

She burst into laughter. "Are you going to kiss me or what?"

"You bet I'm gonna kiss you," I confirmed with a nod. Then, smiling, I didn't.

Sasha laughed, eyes bright with amusement. She shoved my shoulders hard pushing me off her and onto my back. Rising, she leaned over me, imitating me. Her eyes twinkled with mischief. With a grin she warned me, "I'm gonna kiss you now."

"Go right ahead," I encouraged.

"I will."

"All right then."

It was a beautiful sight. My daughter's grin melted away. Her eyes searched each of mine, her expression intense. She inspected my lips and smiled slightly as if approving or enjoying. Her amber eyes returned to mine. She moved. Small, silken lips touched mine. Pressure increased. Sasha's eyes closed. A deep shudder shook me when the moist tip of her tongue touched my lips.

Like being caught in a roiling wave crashing onto a beach, disorientation overcame me. My eyes closed. My hand cupped the back of her neck. Lips parted and Sasha thrilled me with a moan as our tongues touched. I was kissing my daughter like a lover, my lover, my little girl.

The kiss intensified. My tongue probed into her moist mouth. Tongues wrestled. She followed my retreating tongue all the way into my mouth. Sasha actually trembled when I sucked her tongue. My erection strained. The kiss ended suddenly, Sasha pulling away. Her eyes studied me again, searching for something.

She found it, whatever it was. A small smile emerged. Then she blushed when I spoke.

"That was amazing. The best ever. Very addictive."

When I drew her face back to mine, when our lips touched, her beautiful eyes twinkled before closing. My hand caressed down her back to the curve of her amazing ass. Sasha responded by hooking her knee over my leg, her crotch pressed to my thigh. The feel of her sexy buttock filled my palm and occupied mind. I explored it, sexy topography plotted by my hand.

Desire intensified. Small kisses started. I sucked her lower lip and she trembled slightly. My hand caressed a stupendously shapely buttock and edged the pajama top up until I was exploring soft cotton panties, my daughter's panties. Fingertips traced the dip of her butt crack down, down deeper. My kiss was harder, more passionate.

Suddenly I needed more physical contact. Rolling towards her I pulled my daughter against me, body pressed to body.

Through the kiss, the pressure of her soft lips, and the movement of her small tongue I knew the exact moment she felt my erection. There was a slight pause, activity stopping. Sasha reacted. She pressed herself against my erection. Her sexy buttocks flexed in my palm. Her knee slipped up over my thigh and suddenly my fingertips were caressing the warm gusset of her panties. Under my fingers I mapped the delicate shape of youth, the swell of her young vulva, and traced her cleft through cotton. I felt her clench her buttocks when the tip of my finger touched her clit and she moaned into my mouth. Jesus she was exciting.

Sasha responded to my intimate caress by kissing me harder, her mouth open against mine, her tongue active. Warm breath wafted against my cheek. She humped her stomach against my erection, her sweet buttocks flexing. A shudder shook her. She humped again, rubbing my erection, my fingertips sliding over her panty-covered pussy caressing her, rubbing her, encouraging her.

The kiss broke suddenly. Sasha buried her face in my neck. Almost silently she whispered, "Dad."

Holding my little girl tightly, I started moving, hunching against her, sliding my erection up and down and pressing it to her soft stomach. I caressed her cleft, teased the almost undetectable bump of her clit, and inhaled her amazing scent deep into my lungs, pears and lemons and sweet innocence. I whispered to her, "Sasha, baby."

Sasha moaned and humped me, her hips tilting, her pussy moving back and forth insistently, my fingertips rubbing her, caressing her, touching warmth. Just as I felt dampness in the gusset of her panties my little girl slipped over the cliff. I experienced something I'd only fantasized about before and it stunned me. My daughter climaxed. Humping my erection her slender body jerked and lost rhythm briefly. She whimpered again, "Daddy," her breath hot against my neck. With short, cute humps my little girl came, her whimpers becoming little mewls of a kitten; the sweetest music to a father's ears.

With a grunt and moan of my own, with Sasha's undulating stomach pressed hard to my erection, bliss arrived with a sudden and breathtaking bang, my cock swelling and exploding, hot cum flooding my pajama bottoms, pleasure crashing over me. I drowned, Sasha climaxing in my arms with sweet mewls. My cock swelled and exploded, sweet ecstasy following beautiful release, wet cum bathing my crown. We writhed sensually against each other, climaxing together, cumming hard, so beautiful.

The end arrived suddenly, rudely. Like a balloon being deflated I was left empty, drained, my heart racing. Our bodies stilled. Her breath was warm where it washed against my neck. When I moved to extricate myself from her hug she complained with a cute moan and tightened her grip on me, refusing to let go.

I drew her scent into my lungs. I memorized the feel of her warm body pressed to mine and tried to hold onto the experience of my girl climaxing. I held a superb, compact, dance-toned buttock and I felt the residual shockwaves of her orgasm through leftover tiny tremors that shook her body. My erection faded away. I tried to indelibly imprint what I'd just experienced; the first intimate act with my darling.

No words had been spoken but I knew the exact moment my daughter slipped into sleep. Her hug relaxed. Her body melted. Her knee slipped from my thigh.

I adored Sasha's climax and couldn't wait to experience it again. Nothing in my limited imagination had come close to reality. The humping motion, the pulses of pleasure making her young body jerk softly, her sweet sounds of ecstasy, and the scent of her filling my senses was just about the most beautiful thing ever.

It took me a long time to fall asleep; holding my sweet slumbering daughter was too good.

She was fidgeting in her seat again. Music swelled up from the orchestra pit. On stage bodies moved with grace, fluidly, making the difficult seem effortless. The Alvin Ailey Dance Company was coming to the end of Revelations, their last dance.

Sasha had completely ignored me throughout the performance. Her only acknowledgement that I was her escort was when she grasped my hand and gripped it tightly, absorbed by the dancers on stage. I occupied myself with watching a truly superb dance troupe express emotion through movement and watching my daughter's face express emotion through her magnetic eyes. She was enthralled, her joy a beautiful thing to behold.

Sometimes being a very successful author has benefits. Getting tickets to a sold-out dance performance at the last minute was one such benefit. Sasha had positively vibrated all day with excitement.

With Sasha gripping my hand, and accomplished, talented dancers performing on stage, my mind drifted back.

Last night, despite semen-encrusted pajama bottoms, I had a beautiful sleep full of disjointed dreams. Why was it so restful and refreshing? Like the night before I'd woken up almost every hour to find myself intertwined with my daughter in some fashion; legs scissored together, or spooning, or my hand on her back, or Sasha cuddled into me like a puppy seeking warmth. It was as if my psyche was still forcing me to appreciate that my daughter was truly sleeping in bed with me. The night should have been exhausting. It wasn't. It was refreshing, one of the greatest night's sleep. Why?

This morning I had woken up to find the bed empty again, a dent left in the pillow from her head, and her scent of pears and lemon and sweet sexiness still lingering, a teasing reminder of my daughter. I'd felt wonderful, energized, and full of enthusiasm.

Showered and shaved I'd found her in the kitchen, dressed and making a pot of coffee. When she glanced at me and blushed despite a big, high-watt smile, I knew I needed to do something. She was insecure about what had happened last night, our first real intimacy together.

I approached and hugged her from behind, enjoying yet again how slight a girl she was, so desirable to me, such a dream. I kissed the base of her neck on one side and said softly, "Morning, Hon."

Before she could respond I added, "Can I hold your breasts for you?"

There was a moment of silence - her shock, I expect - followed by "Dad!" and a burst of bright, stress-relieving laughter. She leaned back into me, her body shaking. I kissed her neck again, grinned and let her go. Life was back on an even keel, intimacy back to being fun.

Over breakfast I advised her I was serious. I really wanted to feel her up. Her blush at my comment showed mostly pleasure this time, hardly any shyness or embarrassment. She hadn't answered me or given me permission. Maybe she didn't think I was serious. I was.

The rest of the day had fallen into a pattern. She'd left to spend time with her girlfriends while I'd put in a few hours writing. The idea to come see The Alvin Ailey Dance Company's latest show had hit me and, with a bit of scrambling and cashing in a favor, I'd snagged tickets for the seven-thirty performance.

Sasha had been so excited when I told her where we were going she almost sizzled and crackled with electricity, her body full of motion, restless energy driving her. She'd given me a big smile, a big hug, and a big kiss on my cheek, and promptly vanished.

I didn't see her again until, at six-thirty, I yelled for her to move her tush or we'd be late. Girls like making entrances. They spend hours preparing for the moment of appreciation, the first reveal. The smart man understands this. He understands his future comfort and peace of mind depends on his performance at that critical moment when the girl emerges. I was a very, very smart man. Despite it, when my daughter appeared at the top of the staircase I was speechless.

Sasha wore a little black dress that seemed to hug her slender body more intimately than an Italian gigolo. It conformed to all her gentle curves reinforcing her youth yet somehow it was the sexiest thing I'd ever seen. Strapless and ending high on her thighs, it looked like a tube of material she'd wiggled into, and no doubt that simple piece of clinging material had cost a fortune.

Sasha's dark-burgundy hair, thick and glossy with vitality and full of sensuous waves, tumbled unrestrained down her back. She'd pinned each side up over her ears to expose her fine-boned face and dainty ears. I had to look carefully before I saw just a hint of makeup. Hypnotic amber eyes studied me with expectation in them, watching carefully for Dad's reaction, Dad's opinion - the single most important opinion to her. My daughter's legs in that dress were endlessly long, beautifully shaped by years of dancing. Simple black medium-high-heeled shoes completed the outfit. A thin gold chain with a dangling heart draped around her neck was the only jewelry on her. In her right hand she held her iPhone.

I actually felt my heart beat heavily in my chest, a war drum-like thump-thump sound in my ears. Breathing was difficult. That angel was mine!

"Well?" she asked.

"I ... It's ... Holy cow, Sasha! You're..." Words actually failed me!

"I'm what?"

I studied her very, very carefully and, looking at her directly in her eyes, I answered with simple honesty, "Gorgeous. You're gorgeous."

A broad, very satisfied smile emerged on her face. She descended, walking carefully in heels. Clearly I'd said the right things. I'd passed the test.

I don't care what anyone else says. Escorting my beautiful daughter to a social occasion like a dance performance, Sasha holding my arm, with everyone admiring her and knowing just from her youth that she was my daughter, was thrilling. It was thrilling because I knew. I knew the beautiful angel on my arm, that gorgeous young girl, was not just my daughter but a girl I was developing an intimate relationship with and it made everything more intoxicating, more exciting. It was illicit in so many ways. I loved seeing other guys subtly appreciate her with side glances when their wives were distracted, knowing they were thinking very adult thoughts and I was the one. I was the one she'd chosen. I was the one who would see her naked, kiss her, make love to her. I was the one she was giving herself to, who would experience loving a young girl, experience the thrill of incest. I was the one, not them. It aroused me no end.

A swell of applause brought my attention back to the theater. Dancers were taking a bow. Sasha jumped to her feet giving a standing ovation, clapping loudly and enthusiastically. I stood and joined her. She glanced at me, her eyes shining brightly. She gave me a big, big smile.

"Aren't they fantastic?" she enthused. "I'm going to dance like them one day."

I'd planned a dinner out at a very chic restaurant suitable to Sasha's attire. Sasha, hanging onto my arm as we slowly made our way out of the theater, talked constantly, rehashing every move the dancers had made, explaining to me how difficult each move was, the timing and grace needed, how well they hid the massive effort it took and how they made it look easy; it wasn't, she assured me.

As only another dancer could, Sasha remembered every move of each dance, the choreography indelibly imprinted on her brain. Her bubbly enthusiasm made me smile. She'd always been a great person to give gifts to.

"Where are we going?" she asked suddenly when I escorted her to an intersection. We stood waiting for the light to change.

"I'm taking you to Chez Philippe," I informed her. "I've wanted to try their escargots. They're rumored to be the best in New York."

"Eew! Snails? Really?" Sasha exclaimed. "I don't want to eat out. Let's go home."