Chapter 7

Monday morning. Light snow in the forecast. The sky was grey with ominous clouds hanging so low I felt like hunching.

Before walking out to the truck, I stuck my head in the kitchen. Sia was still in pajamas - powder blue flannel with white daisies all over them - her head bent as she studied her iPhone. Facebook probably.

“Sia?”

She looked up at me, hair thick, wavy, loose and attractively messy. “Yeah?”

“See ya,” I said, turning to leave.

Her groan made me smile.

“Daaaad! That’s so, like, lame!”

The day was brighter as I greeted the bitter chill of winter.

SIA GRINNED TO HERSELF. Dad hadn’t used that line in, like, forever. It reminded her of him dropping her off at school years ago.

Her attention turned to Facebook. She updated her page with the good news that she’d have a whole week off school to recover, even though she felt fine. She was briefly tempted to change her status to in a relationship and grinned to herself. What would her friends make of that?

With a final mouthful of frosted flakes, she rose, dumped the bowl and spoon into the sink, and went to the fridge. On the shopping list, she added ‘Froot Loops’. She missed eating them.

A whole week! Hooray!

In the bathroom, after shutting the door she opened it again - she was alone so who cared? Besides it would only be Dad seeing her naked - her mind became distracted with the thought. Unbuttoning her pajama top, she let her mind drift to last night.

If anyone had told her that climaxes could be more intense when someone else was involved she’d never have believed them. To her, it was like a light had been turned on. Sex. A whole world of exciting new adventures and pleasure suddenly awaited. Her and Dad. It made her smile.

Reaching into the tub, she started the shower before shrugging her pajama top off. Turning, she caught a glimpse of herself in the bathroom mirror and paused to study her breasts.

She’d been so pleased when they’d finally started appearing, first just her areolae mounding, then more. She hadn’t liked how tender they were at first, the slightest brush against them hurting. Turning from side to side, she studied them. She was pleased. They’d grown into real boobs; still on the small side but nicely mounded up off her chest. The left one had finally caught up to the right one, thank goodness. She cupped them in her hands and tried to imagine what Dad had felt when he caressed them. Her thumbs stroked gently, a spark of arousal. She squeezed them carefully. It was nice but nowhere near as nice as it had been with Dad. Why?

Out of curiosity she tried to squeeze them together, to create a cleavage. Nope. Too wide apart. Still a bit too small. Oh well.

The sound of rushing water filled the bathroom, steam beginning to fog the mirror. With a quick tug, she pulled her pajama bottoms and panties off together, turned, sat on the toilet and removed the bandage on her ankle, and slipped into the shower.

After washing her hair, something she did every day, she washed her body. Soaping her pussy brought back the memory of Dad fondling her in a rush, another pleasing twinge of arousal. Bending, she studied herself. Her boobs might make her feel more mature, but her pussy didn’t really. Despite her pubes growing denser, her bush was still not very full. To her, it made her look younger than she felt and she wished she had more, a fuller bush; something Dad would like, she thought. Or maybe not. Didn’t women shave their pubes? Did all men prefer the bare look?

Maybe she should research it on the Internet. Yup. That’s what she’d do.

Now in a hurry, Sia rinsed, dried, and used a hair dryer and brush to untangle her hair, her mind occupied.

In the living room, seated on the couch, with music from the television, she browsed the Internet on her iPhone. It seemed most sites fell on the side of guys liking the bare look, no pubes. But, as she read, it talked about how guys liked it because they thought they had a porn star as a date. Sia shuddered. She didn’t want to look like a porn star. Gawd! What would Dad think of her if she shaved? Nope. Keep what she had, Sia decided.

As she browsed, she clicked on one link. Porn. It didn’t shock her. She’d seen stuff like that before and would just close the page, not interested in the slightest in seeing two actors going at it. However, one image caught her eye. She clicked on it.

A video played. In it, a youngish blonde girl, maybe eighteen or nineteen, was with a young guy. They were naked. At first Sia liked watching them kiss and caress each other, very loving. Music on the video was soft, nice. It looked like they were in a white villa, an ocean breeze wafting gossamer curtains, the bed pure white, sheets white.

Then the girl took the guy’s erection and started stroking it as they kissed, kneeling and facing each other. The girl bent and kissed his erection gently, her tongue emerging to lick the tip. She slowly, very slowly, took his erection into her mouth. Sia heard the guy groan with pleasure. In Sia’s mind, she saw Dad.

Her pulse raced. Heat flushed through her body as she watched the girl use her mouth to suck him, her hand to stroke his erection. It was slow, deliberate, almost loving. Unconsciously, Sia clenched her thighs together, a warm pulse of arousal blossoming in her pussy. If the guy liked it so much, would Dad like it, too?

The clip ended suddenly. Sia shut the browser down. She tried to picture herself doing that for Dad. Her hand drifted down, settling at her crotch. She caressed and frowned. It didn’t feel anywhere near as good as when Dad was doing it.

Frustrated, with nothing to do, she rose and limped around, eventually becoming so bored she did some chores, rested, did some more chores, browsed Amazon for clothes, and wished the day was over.

By just after six, darkness having fallen, Sia was going stir crazy. The sound of the front door opening had her jumping up, gasping from a wince of pain radiating up from her ankle, and limping into the hall.

“Dad! You’re home!”

AS I HUNG UP the parka, Sia limped toward me, smiling, her sky blue and hazel eyes bright with pleasure. She leapt at me suddenly, arms wrapping around my neck. With her face buried against my neck, mine against hers, my arms holding her up, I inhaled deeply drawing in the aroma of Sia; floral shampoo, softness, sunshine.

She raised her face, eyes glinting. “Guess what?”

“What?” I asked.

Her answer was muffled by my kiss. When it ended, she smiled. “I made dinner!”

Setting her down carefully, I asked, “What did you make?”

“Mac & cheese with cut up hotdogs.”

“Mmmmm. Let’s eat. I’m hungry.” Despite having a taste for fine food and having made several gourmet versions of macaroni and cheese, I still preferred the simple packaged version. It had been a favorite as a kid and remained one as an adult.

“You have to change first,” Sia ordered. “Put on sweats and a T-shirt. I’ll get dinner ready.”

“Excellent!”

Over dinner (I added a green salad to the menu), Sia, out of the blue, told me she wanted to go back to school. Staying at home wasn’t as much fun as she thought it would be, informing me, “It’s boring, Dad.”

I refused. After some spirited discussion we agreed to let Dr. Anston decide at her Wednesday checkup. Mollified only slightly, Sia finished dinner and ordered me into the living room. She was going to change, too, although I thought jeans and a sweatshirt suited her just fine.

She joined me, wearing a thick, white terry bathrobe. In a familiar move, she sat at the other end of the couch, turned to her side, brought her legs up and, with her good foot, shoved my legs out of the way. Satisfied, she tossed the Afghan blanket over our legs and watched TV.

As her foot moved up my leg, arousal started. I was now well trained, I realized with a smile. Lifting one leg, I let her settle the sole of her foot against the growing bulk in my sweats. She pressed softly, exploring my condition. No slouch myself, I tried slipping my foot up her leg only to get tangled in her bathrobe. Some foot twists and turns did nothing to overcome the terry defenses.

It was delightful to see a small smile on Sia’s face as she watched TV, obviously aware of my struggles. Not nice! Leaving her leg alone, my toes found her side. I used the tickle offense. Laughter filled the air as she moved to displace my probing toes. Her foot wiggled against my erection very nicely.

“Daaaad! Stooop!” she exclaimed, then, with a sweet smile, she reached under the Afghan and, with some fiddling, guided my foot to her crotch. Once again, I was in heaven, my foot pressed to her pantied pussy as she lowered her leg, trapping me.

For the next half hour we caressed each other, our sexy game of footsie. I sported a full erection and suffered diminishing morals, yet again.

Suddenly, Sia withdrew her foot, threw off the Afghan and came over to me. She parked herself on top of me when I twisted onto my back and stretched out on the couch. Astride me, her eyes giving me that magical twinkle, a small, coy smile curling her lips, she bent, her eyes locked on my face. I smelled her scent just before her soft lips touched mine. She pressed her mouth to mine. Groaning with pent up desire, I wrapped my arms around her and fell into the sweet kiss. It intensified when the tip of her tongue teased my lips, tasting me. Before I could respond, she sat up.

“How ‘bout we go to bed early,” she asked, her crotch slightly grinding on the lump of my erection.

What I wanted to do was suck her lower lip. It seemed a bit swollen and looked very delicious. I could still taste her last kiss. Echoing through my mind was the realization I adored kissing my daughter, not just because she was so great to kiss, but the incestuous element to it just rang my bell. That pleasing truth excited me beyond words.

“I think that’s a champion idea,” I agreed, with a grin.

She smiled and scrambled off me. “Well, c’mon then!”

I don’t think I had ever moved with such alacrity. Turning everything off, I was stripped down to boxers - screw pajama bottoms - and climbing under the quilt by the time Sia made it to the side of the bed. She shrugged off her terry bathrobe to reveal a mid thigh length chartreuse nightshirt with burgundy piping. I was on my side waiting when she lifted the quilt and slipped into bed. She smiled her semi-shy smile, her eyes bright, some tendrils of hair having escaped from her thick ponytail to frame her face.

She curled one tress of hair behind her cute ear, lay on her side facing me, and said, “So, I’ve given it some thought, Dad, and there are ten reasons why you want to kiss me.”

I grinned. “Ten, huh?”

“Yup. Number one, you like kissing me. Number two, you want to kiss me. Number three, you need to kiss me. Number four, you’re desperate to kiss me...” her smile growing with each reason.

Laughing with pleasure at her charming silliness, I pushed my daughter onto her back and leaned over her, my leg slipping between hers.