Chapter 17

RACHAEL WALKED THROUGH THE living room on her way to the laundry room. Grandpa was out tending his vegetable and herb garden. She found Mom putting sheets into the washer.

“Mom? Can we talk?” she asked.

“Hold on.” Mom closed the door, added detergent, and started the machine. Turning, she smiled. “What’s up?” Mom put her hand on her shoulder. “Let’s go to the kitchen. I’d like some coffee.”

Sitting at the kitchen table, Rachael said, “I wanted to say sorry.”

Mom smiled. “That’s nice. Sorry for what?”

“For the way I was behaving back home. I was angry at you for taking the way that jerk Robert treated you. And he wasn’t the first, either. I guess I was angry at him, too, and angry you wouldn’t listen to me.”

“That’s okay, Rachael. I haven’t had the best judgment when it comes to guys.”

“Grandpa’s good for you,” Rachael observed. “I haven’t seen you so happy in, like, forever.”

Mom smiled. “I am. I’ve lived a fantasy I’ve had since I was younger than you are.”

“Are you mad at me for what Grandpa and I did? It wasn’t his fault.”

Mom looked surprised. “What gave you the impression I’m angry about it?”

“You haven’t asked me anything, or talked about it. You always talk.”

“Honey, you made a decision. Only you will know if it was the right one or not. I want you to be happy. If you’re happy, I am.”

“I am.” A moment of silence followed. “I need some help,” Rachael said. “I haven’t had a shower since the accident and I feel grubby. Using a washcloth isn’t the same. Can you help me shower?”

Mom immediately stood. “Of course I can!” She opened the pantry and pulled out a plastic bag, fished through a drawer and removed tape. “Let’s go.”

CARA LED HER DAUGHTER to the bathroom. She opened the shower stall and turned the water on.

“Take your T-shirt off,” she instructed, unfolding the plastic bag. With Rachael topless, she put the bag over the cast and started taping it up. At the same time, she studied her daughter. She hadn’t seen Rachael’s body in a long time, and admired how adolescence was blossoming on her. Her breasts were small; gentle mounds with rather beautiful dark brown areolae and nipples. She was going to have gorgeous breasts.

“Jeans off,” she instructed. When her daughter wobbled trying to kick of her sneakers, Cara knelt and removed them for her, Rachael’s hand finding her shoulder for stability.

Rachael unbuttoned her jeans and Cara helped pull them down. Her cotton panties were tugged down and Cara saw her downy soft, jet black pubic hairs peeking above the waist.

She helped Rachael extract her legs from the jeans and, as she stood up, Rachael shoved her panties down. Cara paused to admire her. There was a wonderful, magical quality to her daughter. In so many ways Rachael was still a child; her hips very narrow, legs almost too long, and no waist to speak of. Yet developing pubescence clashed with her body, the first signs of maturity startling in their presence.

She helped Rachael into the shower, closed the door, and kept an eye on her. Cara remembered the excitement of becoming a woman, how strange and wonderful it was the way her body was changing, how embarrassed yet thrilled she was, and how her body began to respond; the discovery of touching herself, of secret pleasure at night in bed.

It had been those changes that had made her aware of Dad, of him being a man, and her curiosity about his body. Things had finally worked out with Dad, but she wished she could have worked them out when she was fourteen, not now at thirty-five. Still. Making love with Dad had been wonderful; a dream come true.

Cara smiled to herself. She wondered what Dad would say if she told him he was the only man who’d ever made her climax with intercourse. It hadn’t been just the physical side - although Dad was very nicely endowed - but the emotional aspect that made all the difference.

Rachael slipped and swore.

“What’s wrong?”

“It’s hard enough to wash with one hand, but I’m right-handed and washing with my left hand is impossible, Mom!”

“Hold on.”

Cara undressed quickly and stepped into the shower.

“Mom! I can do it myself. I was just...”

“Oh hush up, Rachael. You don’t have anything I don’t have.”

Rachael laughed. “That’s true. It’s not like showering with Grandpa.”

Cara paused with the shampoo bottle in hand. “You showered with Grandpa?”

“Oh! Sorry. I didn’t mean to talk about it.”

Cara turned Rachael. “Soak your hair.” When she started washing her daughter’s hair, she said, “Maybe we should talk about it. I don’t want secrets between us. As it is, not talking makes it a bit awkward.”

“Are you sure?” Rachael asked. She sighed audibly. “I love having my hair washed. You’re just as good as Grandpa.”

“Tell me about the shower,” Cara prompted, massaging her daughter’s head.

Rachael rinsed and turned back for the second shampoo, telling Cara about the shower. Her enthusiasm was hard to ignore. When she started talking about Grandpa being a rebel and explaining how he liked to break the law, Cara laughed.

Second shampoo done, Rachael rinsed. Cara squirted conditioner and massaged it in. She was distracted by her daughter’s skin. It was flawless and the most beautiful shade of coffee ice cream. Since her birth, Cara had loved Rachael’s color, even been envious of it.

Conditioner done, Cara set about washing Rachael’s neck, shoulders, back, and arms. Rachael chatted away with hilarious stories about her grandfather. When Cara knelt and washed her daughter’s legs, so incredibly long and slender, Rachael’s pussy was at eye level. Cara admired it. Her pubic hair was still young, not covering her mons completely. Her labia, tightly closed, were slightly darker than the rest of her body, so young looking. When Rachael lifted her foot to be washed, her cleft flowered open to reveal her clit and the small pink gap below. Her inner labia were still developing.

Rachael’s chatting dropped into silence when Cara’s hands washed the top insides of her daughter’s thighs, the edge of her hands brushing her pussy.

Standing, Cara said, “Turn around.”

Rachael turned to face the spray. Cara washed down her back to her buttocks. They were still developing, not quite boyish, swelling out proudly behind but narrow at the sides.

With Cara washing her daughter’s buttocks, Rachael asked, “Mom? Have you ever, you know ... experimented with other girls”

“Yes. A long time ago in my teens. Curiosity is natural.”

“What was it like?”

Cara cast her mind back to Mindy, the sleepover, talk about boys and kissing and sex, giggling, then shyly approaching the subject of practicing kissing. It had been a long night.

“It was different in a nice way. It was very exciting because two girls doing things together was frowned upon. It wasn’t talked about. It was such a no-no and because of it, very exciting.”

Rachael turned to rinse her back off. Her dark eyes were shining. “What did you do?”

Smiling, Cara told her, “Mandy and I practiced kissing. We were fascinated by the French kissing we’d seen in movies. Then it progressed to touching each other.”

“Do boys experiment with each other?”

Cara laughed, lathered up her hands and started washing Rachael’s sides. “Maybe some. Guys aren’t that adventurous or confident. It’s easier for girls. I don’t know why. Guys probably think it hurts their masculinity to do anything with another guy. I’ve never given it much thought.”

Cara washed Rachael’s stomach and up. When she reached the gentle mounds of her daughter’s breasts, all the talk of experimenting and how it reminded her of Mandy, made her slow down. Washing became more of a caress and her daughter’s nipples responded, perking up. Her breasts had such a wonderful shape, so firm.

A small thrill hit her. This was so illicit and because of it, exciting. Rachael’s eyes softened, staring at her.

Cara caressed gently, soap making her hands slip delightfully.

Rachael whispered, “Mom.”

Reaching down, Cara took Rachael’s hand and guided it up to her own breast. “Feel me. It’s very different from feeling yourself.”

Rachael’s touch was hesitant and delicate. Cara rubbed her daughter’s nipples, circled her areolae, and gently caressed.

Rachael quietly watched her own hand as she touched and caressed, and Cara’s body responded, her nipples first becoming sensitive, then awakening, warm arousal washing through her. Being touched intimately by her little girl was surprisingly exciting, seductive.

Arousal gently clouded her mind. She slipped her hand down across Rachael’s stomach and carefully cupped her daughter’s pussy.

Rachael looked at her. Cara smiled. “Would you touch me, too?”

Her daughter surprised her. A flit of mischief passed through her dark eyes. Her hand trailed down Cara’s body towards her pussy and, as Rachael touched her pubes, she leaned forward and took Cara’s nipple into her mouth, sucking her. A bolt of arousal raced through her body. She jerked lightly then, when Rachael felt her pussy, Cara groaned quietly.

With her daughter sucking her breast and exploring her pussy, restraint was demolished by excitement, by the taboo, by horniness. Cara curled her middle finger to probe into her daughter’s pussy and touch her clit. Rachel moaned. Cara felt it though her nipple.

When she looked at Rachael’s lush lips and felt the desire to kiss her, what she was doing with her daughter suddenly registered. Cara took a step back. “Time to rinse. I’ll help you dry.”

Rachael smiled. “Now I know what you mean about it being different!”

Cara dried herself, then dried her daughter. Her mind was in a turmoil. How had she slipped into intimacy with Rachael? And why did she still feel the tug of attraction? Studying her daughter, she saw the same, bright girl she knew; happy and at ease with what had just happened. But Cara wasn’t the same.

A desire had awakened. Cara still felt the tug of desire to kiss Rachael, feel her small, sensual mouth against hers, taste her, kiss her passionately, and, to Cara, kissing was extremely intimate - more so than touching. It was an expression of love and desire and need, second only to intercourse.

Rachael, naked and brushing her damp hair, said, “I think we should all take a shower together. You, me and Grandpa. It’d be fun! By the way, thanks for changing my meds. I feel much better!”

That night, Cara slipped into bed with Dad, rubbed his bare back and, when he turned, she said, “You should go say goodnight to Rachael. I think she misses you.”

I STUDIED CARA CAREFULLY. She’d been acting a little differently today and I couldn’t put my finger on what it was.

“Okay. I’ll be right back.”

Rachael’s bedroom door was ajar. I entered. Her room was dark, but from the light of the moon I could see her in bed, her eyes obsidian dark and watching me. She smiled.

Sitting on her bed, I leaned in and kissed her, her lips so soft, warm, and receptive. “Thought I’d say goodnight before you pass out. I miss you.”

Rachael smiled, pleased. “I miss you too. After Mom and me in the shower today, I’m horny, too.”

“You and your mother ... What happened?” I asked, stretching out at her side.

As Rachael told me about the shower, I casually moved the light blanket and sheet aside, reached down and placed my hand over her crotch. Rachael, smiling slightly, kept talking and moved her legs apart. I cupped her pussy over her pajamas and pressed my palm into the remarkably lush mons of her small pussy.

When I squeezed, her voice trailed off.

“And then what?” I asked, fondling her gently.

She resumed, and as I caressed her and listened to a tale of mother and daughter touching each other intimately, I slowly grew aroused.

Leaning in, I kissed her cheek. “No wonder you’re horny,” I told her, easing my hand up and inside her pajamas. Finding the waist of her panties, I burrowed underneath. My fingertips brushed against her baby soft pubes, the top of her cleft, and down until I was holding her pussy.

Rachael sighed. I kissed her cheek again, then the corner of her mouth. Curling my middle finger, I discovered warm, slipperiness between her labia. She was telling the truth. Rachael was horny.

She turned her face just a bit and we kissed, her lips so soft and welcoming. My fingertip drew moisture up to her clit and I rubbed gently. Rachael’s tongue emerged, her eyes closing, her good hand rising to rest on my shoulder. Kissing her, I caressed her clit, slipped my finger down, curled it, and penetrated her tight pussy, touching heat, pure velvet.

Rachael groaned quietly. When I returned to her clit and rubbed her harder, her body twitched. She opened her mouth and let my tongue in. Warm breath puffed through her nose, brushing lightly against my cheek. Her scent of sweetness and limes grew stronger. Slowly, very slowly, Rachael started moving, rubbing her pussy up and down against my touch. Her breathing deepened, then she broke the kiss to inhale as if starved for air. I strummed her slippery, small clit.

Maybe it was the meds kicking in, but Rachael came faster than usual. A small frown creased her forehead. She gasped silently, her legs closing and trapping my hand, and she climaxed gently, small shivers passing through her. It was sweet and sexy.

When she calmed, she opened her eyes and gave me a beautiful smile.

“How are you now?” I asked, extracting my hand from her panties.

“Much better.”

With a kiss on her cheek, I moved away. “Sleep well.”

Her soft, “Kay,” reached me at the door.

I tasted my finger. Delicious. My erection led me back to bed like a pole pointing the way, despite my restraining boxer briefs.

Cara smiled. “How is she?”

“Tell me about this shower,” I suggested, slipping into bed.

For the second time, I saw my daughter blush.

“I don’t want to talk about it.”

Biding her wish, I said, “Did you really caress your daughter’s breasts and touch and fondle her pussy?”

“I don’t want to talk about it.”

“Did she really suck your nipple? Did you really ask her to touch your pussy?” I continued.

“Dad, I said I don’t...”

“You’re not talking. I am,” I pointed out. “And you’re blushing like crazy. What did it feel like to have your little girl naked with you and touching you? She has gorgeous skin. Have you noticed?”

“Daaaad.”

Smiling, lying on my side facing her, I asked, “Why didn’t you kiss her? She thought you were about to. Did it feel different when she sucked your nipple? Did it feel good?” I frowned playfully. “Did you get horny, Cara? Did sexy intimacy with your little girl turn you on?”

Cara laughed. “Jesus, Dad! YES! IT TURNED ME ON! There. Satisfied?”

I pulled her against me. My erection poked her. She reached down and brought it up, pressing her body against it.

“You find incest as exciting as I do,” I said. “You get a thrill from it, don’t you?”

“No.”

“Yes you do. Right now you’re thinking about jumping my old bones. Right now, you’re feeling empty and remembering how good it felt to have me inside you. Right now you’re remembering the last time ... sorry, the last three times, and wishing I’d shut up.”

Cara laughed, amused. “Why weren’t you this funny back then?”

“I was. You were too busy being pissed at me.”

In a split second, her expression softened. “I’m not pissed off any more.” Her hand reached down and fondled me. “In fact, I’m feeling frisky. Did I tell you you’re the first man who’s ever given me a climax while fucking?” She reached into my underwear and held my erection. “Did I tell you how much I love your erection? You’re so thick. You stretch me beautifully.”

Staring into my eyes, she brushed her lips against mine and paused, her breath warm and clean. She whispered, “When I hold you like this, I get so turned on. I can’t stop thinking, I’m holding Daddy’s erection, actually touching him. And my pussy aches, Dad. I get so horny. My heart beats faster and I get warm. My breasts feel fuller and cry out to be touched.”

“Jeeesus, Cara,” I whispered, my cock straining.

She rubbed a bead of precum around the head, smiled softly, and said, “I love your precum. I love how I can turn you on, Dad.”

Then something slipped into her eyes, something exciting, dangerous.

She whispered, “Please fuck me, Dad. Please fuck your little girl.”

I groaned. Suddenly we were moving, underwear shoved off, panties shoved down, nightshirt shucked, and Cara lay back, knees rising as I moved over her. God, she was beautiful!

Gripping my shaft, the tip touched her pussy and I thrust. Cara cried out as I buried myself inside her in one stroke. She pulled on my shoulders bringing me down. I withdrew and fucked into her, her body shoved up on the bed, and she responded, “Harder. Fuck me harder, Daddy.”

Groaning, I fucked my daughter harder, thrusting into her snug, moist pussy, a silken sheath driving my desire higher. Cara crossed her ankles behind me and tugged, urging me on. I fucked her hard and fast, selfishly, and she gasped, shuddered, and climaxed, her body heaving, pussy clenching, breasts shaking. Still I fucked her, thrusting deep, withdrawing almost completely and thrusting again, each stroke exquisite pleasure. She recovered from her climax and started writhing underneath me again.

Suddenly, I pulled out. “On your knees,” I told her.

Cara rolled and rose onto hands and knees, looking back at me. Her sexy ass gained a beautiful shape, her glistening pussy nestled between her thighs, black pubes, cleft partially open. Guiding my cock, I penetrated her again, slipping into her warm, silken vagina. Gripping her hips, I fucked her, watching my shaft emerge and disappear, stretching her so much. Her buttocks shook with each slap of my groin. She was so snug, so exciting. Leaning over her, I caressed her breast, tweaked her nipple, then reached down between her legs to caress her clit, still fucking her. Cara gasped again, “Oh Gaaawd!” and climaxed, her whole body shaking, pussy tightening, milking me. In the depths of her second orgasm, first her arms gave away. Body shaking, her elbows gave away, her shoulders hitting the bed, ass in the air. I fucked her hard, deep, long strokes, caressing her clit and my daughter cried out and fell flat onto the bed. I followed her, my groin cushioned by her sexy buttocks, and fucked her faster, desperation arriving, heaviness in my groin. Sweating, my orgasm slammed into me, cock swelling, swelling, aching and, with a loud gasp, “Jesus Christ!” I exploded into her, cum erupting in a huge, gut-wrenching spurt. Withdrawing, I thrust again, cumming harder, another glorious explosion, semen shooting endlessly. Humping her gorgeous ass, I exploded, semen bursting, sweet bliss coursing through me. I came hard, swelling and spurting, her pussy very slippery. With a final, almost painful thrust, my orgasm passed and I slowed, stopped, my full weight on her.

“How do you do it?” I asked, panting.

Cara wiggled her ass. “Do what?”

“Drive me so crazy?”

“I’m goooood,” she answered, her body shaking with a silent chuckle.

Eventually, exhausted, I rolled to the side. Cara’s dark hair was an utter mess. It partially covered her face. Intense blue eyes peeked out at me, a smile curling the corners of her lips.

I drew the sheet up. Evaporating sweat chilled me.

“Mom? Grandpa?”

We both looked to the door. Rachael stood there cradling her arm.

“I knocked it by accident. It hurts,” she said.

“Come here, honey,” Cara said, her voice full of concern.

Rachael walked over and, when her mother lifted the covers, slipped into bed.

“Which pill did you take?” Cara asked.

“I don’t remember.”

“Dad, go get another two milligram pill.” To Rachael, she said, “You probably took the weaker one. Don’t worry. You’ll feel better soon.”

I put the air cast on and left.

When I returned, Cara had her nightshirt on. Rachael took the pill. God knows why, but I pulled on my underwear and settled in bed. Cara moved to my side, turned, gave me her back, and drew her Rachael into her embrace.

It was the first night the three of us slept in the same bed.

It was to the beautiful sound of Rachael’s giggles and Cara’s whispers that I woke up. It was a wonderful way to wake up. Her giggles made me smile.

“Shhh,” Cara whispered. “You’ll wake him up. We’ll try it today and see how he reacts.”

“Kay,” Rachael whispered.

“Try what today?” I asked.

Rachael’s face popped up from behind Cara. She grinned. “You’re awake!”

“Good morning. Try what?” I asked again.

Cara rolled onto her back and smiled at me, her blue eyes bright. “Morning, Dad. Rachael told me I have to taste this breakfast dish that has corned beef in it. Go cook. We’re hungry.”

“What were you two talking about?” I asked again.

A sneaky expression instantly emerged on the faces of two females I loved dearly. Mischief played through their eyes. Suddenly I didn’t care what they’d been talking about. Just seeing them this way made my heart thump. They looked gorgeous; a raven-haired beauty and a café au lait imp.

Cara shoved my shoulder. “Well? Go on, Dad! Make breakfast.”

I grumbled and complained for their pleasure, dressed and headed to the kitchen, stopping in the bathroom for my morning rituals. Making breakfast, I noticed a couple of things. First, my ankle had settled down. I’d passed the bone-aching sensation that haunts and pains. It gave me a twinge of pain - a warning - when I put too much weight on it. But I thought I might survive with a cane instead of crutches ... if I had a cane.