A Game of Footsie
Copyright© 2017 by Renpet
Chapter 4
Erotica Sex Story: Chapter 4 - When does a game change from playful, innocent fun into something more? Something with deeper significance? Something very, very different? Something surprising, unsettling, and inappropriate?
Caution: This Erotica Sex Story contains strong sexual content, including Ma/Fa Ma/ft ft/ft Fa/ft Consensual Lesbian Heterosexual Incest Father Daughter Interracial First Masturbation Oral Sex Petting
Minor fears and some trepidation entered my life in the following week. To all outward appearances, our relationship was its usual one. Yet, there was a subtle change, a hesitancy in our interactions that had never been there before. Neither of us talked about Sunday night. In truth, in the harsh light of day, I was nervous about openly discussing it. Sia was slightly more subdued, her beautiful eyes full of questions I couldn’t answer. I worried about how to start the discussion we now needed to have. Actually, I feared the discussion. I’d always feared having conversations that would hurt Sia and this one could be a game changer if mishandled.
SIA LISTENED TO ROBIN talking about her latest crush as they sat in the cafeteria, mid-Friday. Her mind wasn’t really in it. Other thoughts had been preoccupying her all week. Namely, Dad.
She was still stunned at her climax with him. It had rocked her world, so much stronger than anything she’d achieved on her own. But the flush of warmth, the affection she felt, was strongest when remembering cuddling with him after. He’d been so loving, so soft and warm and secure, so accepting. It made her heart flutter every time she thought about it. She wanted to cuddle again, every night. The memory of his gentle caress of her breast, such a sharp contrast to Jim’s painful immature grasping at the dance, made her body tingle, her nipples responding, areolae becoming sensitive. Sia especially appreciated Dad’s restraint. She’d felt his erection against her buttocks, a sign of his arousal. Yet he’d done nothing, simply satisfied to hold her. Somehow, that made Dad seem even more caring. Was that the difference between the guys school and mature men? If so, why would any girl want to be with a teen guy? She didn’t.
As Jasmin added to the conversation around the table, Sia’s mind drifted to more important problems. Well, really one problem. She wanted to talk to Dad about what had happened, but couldn’t find her usual gumption to start the conversation. The truth was, she felt insecure. She didn’t know where they stood now. Dad, aside from tighter hugs, seemed slightly off. It wasn’t anything she could define but it was there, as if he was worried about her. She wasn’t worried about what had happened. She liked it. She felt different, more grown-up, mature. She felt yearnings and desires for more, for things she’d never given much thought to. She wanted to not only repeat Sunday night but do more, explore these new sensations, see if she could bring pleasure to Dad, that thought exciting her a lot.
But how? If Dad never broached the subject, should she? Could she? Did she have the courage to overcome her shyness with this new intimacy?
With a sigh, Sia considered the alternative; not speaking up, not talking, not experiencing that intimacy again. No. She had to have a talk with him.
“What are you sighing about?” Lara asked, her eyes inquisitive. “You’ve been gone all week. How come?” After a brief pause her eyes opened wide. “Oh m’God! Who is he?”
Sia laughed. “Who’s who?”
“The boy you’re mooning over! It isn’t Jim, is it? I thought the kick in his balls meant you didn’t like him.”
Robin leaned in. “Maybe that was Sia’s way of saying she likes him. Was it?”
“You’re both nuts!” Sia exclaimed with another laugh.
Distracted, the conversation moved to other boys, their clothes, who was hot, who was not. Lunch flew by. After school, at home, Sia wandered around, restless, waiting for Dad to come home from work. She started some homework and couldn’t concentrate. Leaving it, she started cleaning last night’s dirty dishes. The silence got to her. Moving to the living room, she turned on the television and found music on the Apple TV, turning it up loud before returning to the kitchen.
Sia regularly checked the kitchen wall clock. Time seemed to crawl. Dad was always home at five-thirty, but five-thirty seemed so far away. His job as manager of the town’s water treatment plant, processing and purifying water for all of the town’s one thousand plus homes, was not that exciting but it meant he was as regular as clockwork.
Finishing the dishes, Sia wandered back into the living room. It was empty without Dad’s presence. Her eyes glanced at the couch and she reacted, immediately, a spike of arousal, desire, her nipples puckering at the memory of Sunday night.
With a frown, Sia’s determination strengthened.
The sound of the front door opening intruded on her thoughts.
“Dad! You’re home!”
THE SOUND OF PLEASURE in my daughter’s voice made me smile. Before I had my parka off, Sia arrived and grabbed me in a big hug. Warmth flushed through me. I hugged her and inhaled the scent of her thick hair. Just lovely.
“How was work? What’s for dinner?” she asked, finally releasing me.
I grinned slightly. “If you can get me a Coke, I’ll change,” I informed her.
“Okay. But what’s for dinner?”
“Food,” I replied heading for the bedroom. After washing up, I stripped down to my underwear and hunted through the dresser for something to wear.
Sia entered with a can of pop. “Here,” she said, offering the can to me.
“Thanks.”
Without asking, my daughter started digging through the dresser. She tugged out a faded red T-shirt handing it to me. As I pulled it on, smiling at how she was selecting my wardrobe, she passed me a pair of soft, pale grey sweat pants. Dressed, I followed her into the kitchen, parking myself at the old oak table.
“Thanks for washing the dishes,” I commented, noticing her contribution, a relatively rare event. “Avoiding homework?” I asked.
“Nope ... Well maybe,” Sia admitted, adding quickly, “But there isn’t much to study. I’ll do it tomorrow.”
“That’s what you always say but somehow you end up leaving it until it’s almost too late.” With a smile I suggested, “You’ll feel much better if you get it out of the way.”
Sia got up and fished in the refrigerator for a Coke without acknowledging my suggestion. She sat down, popped the tab, took a sip, and studied me with those mystical eyes. I saw hesitancy. I saw questions float through them. I saw a daughter unsure of the ground she was walking on.
It was time. Taking my own advice about getting things out of the way, I took a deep breath and broached the elephant in the room.
“What happened last weekend ... I want you to know how much ... I...”
Sia eyes widened, her attention riveted on me. I tried again.
“Sia, honey, I loved what we experienced last weekend.”
Sia sighed and smiled in relief. “Me, too, Dad.”
“I’m glad. But ... Well, it was probably wrong for us to have done that.” She opened her mouth to respond so I continued before she could say anything. “You’re mature for your age and I’m so proud of you, but the type of intimacy we experienced isn’t good for you.”
Sia studied me, a sky blue eye and hazel eye staring at me. The intensity of her gaze reminded me of a cat studying a mouse.
“Did you really like what happened?” she asked.
“More than you’ll ever know,” I answered. Being honest was the least I could do for her.
“You said I was mature for my age. Did you mean that?”
“Yes.”
“Do you care about what I want?” she asked.
“Always.”
Sia started talking. She told me about her dance, the disappointment with Jim Prentice, his behavior, how having a tongue shoved into her mouth wasn’t what she’d expected from her first kiss; her news making me hate Jim “the asshole” Prentice intensely. She informed me that what we’d done together was amazing, a small blush emerging highlighting her pale freckles when she admitted to dreaming about repeating it, how it had been the best feeling ever.
With a slightly softer voice, she looked at me deeply and added, “I wouldn’t mind if we, perhaps, did some things together,” adding quickly, “If you want.”
Lordy I wanted! I felt my response in my pants. I felt that first tingling of excitement, arousal, and desire for her. Tamping it down, I spoke.
“I love that you’d like to, honey. I’ll be honest, I’d like to explore this aspect of our relationship, too. But, the risks are too high. I can’t see how we could keep it between us and not have it uncovered by anyone else. All it would take is a slip of the tongue, a casual comment, and we’d be in real trouble.”
“Dad, give me credit! I know how to keep my mouth shut.”
I smiled slightly. True, she wasn’t a gossip, but she was vocal, opinionated, and strong willed, traits I cherished in her.
“It’s not just keeping your mouth closed,” I said. “It’s behavior, too.”
Sia considered. “I don’t see the problem. If I behave like I love my dad, how does that seem odd to anyone?”
“Well, it could be an inappropriate touch, or an unconscious caress.”
Sia snorted her disagreement. “As if! I’m not stupid. I told you that.”
I’ll freely admit the illicit attraction I now held for Sia was a huge influence in my consideration. I was intensely attracted to her. It helped that I knew her better than any other person in the world; better than myself, even. It helped that in her youth, her slenderness, her spectacular emerging adolescence, I saw a young Soraya - what my wife must have been like at her age - and it was electrifying to consider an intimate relationship developing with her.
“Okay. If you promise to do your best to keep it a secret, promise to tell me if you ever want to stop or not do something and...”
“I promise!” Sia interrupted, a magnificent smile emerging, her eyes lighting up with excitement.
Holding up my palm, I continued, smiling slightly, “I’m not finished. If you promise to clean the house, do the laundry, wash the dishes...”
“Daaad!”
With a grin, I continued, “ ... and you promise to give me a kiss, then I’d love for us to explore our relationship.”
Sia jumped up from her seat smiling brightly and came to me. I welcomed my daughter with open arms. Calm descended as she studied my face. Silence fell, the kitchen wall clock ticking away. A small smile appeared, a satisfied smile, the one that she’d get when she’d won an argument with me. I studied her mouth, her lips, the dusting of freckles on her cheekbones, and then her eyes, enchanting, beguiling, mismatched eyes. Her face neared mine. I caught her scent, light, flowery, pure sweetness.
Her eyes closed. Lips touched slowly. Electricity pulsed through me. Sia lips were soft and warm as they pressed to mine. The kiss was sexy yet sweetly chaste; lips closed, lingering, my erection now complete. Jesus, I was kissing my daughter!
As she pulled away breaking contact, the most beautiful blush spread on her cheeks. She smiled, eyes twinkling.
“That’s what I wanted my first kiss to be like,” she said, and then bent in for another.
Somehow, she turned and sat in my lap; such a slender, young girl, so sexy, so arousing. The kiss lasted only a few seconds when her eyes popped open.
She wiggled in my lap. “Are you ... Is that... ?”
I smiled. “That’s a powerful kiss you have.”
Sia smiled with pride. “Thanks! What’s for dinner?” she added, standing up.
“Friday night? How does pizza sound?”
“Yum. I’m hungry! You order. I’m gonna change.”
As Sia left the kitchen bouncing on her feet, I admired her compact butt and wondered what it was going to feel like to caress it, hold it in my hands, fondle it. Very exciting indeed.
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