Chapter 6

I decided it was time to do a little confronting. This might be fun and games for Riley, but it was giving her parents a hard time.

Hmmm. I did say she was a normal teenager. All teenagers give their parents grief, at one time or another.

Still, all that teenage shenanigans could usually do was land the teen in jail. In this case it was me who would suffer that fate.

She was lying on her bed in a T shirt, doing a crossword game on her phone. She didn’t have panties on and her bare butt was showing.

“Hi,” she said, looking over her shoulder at me. “Did Mom show it to you?”

“She did. It’s beautiful.”

“Thank you.”

“All you did was lie there. I’m complimenting your mother,” I said. It was delivered in an “I’m teasing you,” voice, but I was needling her on purpose. I don’t know why. You always take things out on the one you love. It’s a very stupid trait of humans.

“Mom said this is all hard on you.”

I noticed she didn’t says she was sorry for it being hard on me.

“Why do you want to have her paint us together?” I asked, forging on ahead.

“Well, there are several reasons,” she said.

“What is a normal reason you might want that?” I challenged her.

“That’s easy. A painting like that will be unique and there’s a huge market for daddy/daughter art.”

“What?” I scowled. “That’s insane.”

“Come with me,” she said.

She got up and was intentionally less than graceful about it. She showed me her pussy while she did it. She took my hand and pulled me to the living room, where my laptop was. She sat me down on the couch and then sat beside me, opening the laptop on her bare thighs. She typed in my password which, to my recollection, I had never given her, and then did a Google search. She viewed the offerings and selected one three quarters down the list. A page of pictures popped up on the screen and she transferred the instrument to my lap.

The first picture that caught my eye was of a pink T shirt with glitter letters on the front that said, “Daddy’s Girl” in a flowing font. There were ten or twelve other T shirts on that page with the same message presented in varying styles.

She paged down.

That page had panties on it with the same message.

Emblazoned across the front.

One, down in the lower right corner, was on a thong. It said, “No lips but Daddy’s” on it. Right next to it was a pair of crotchless panties that had “Daddy’s Little Princess” printed on the waistband.

“How did you find this?” I croaked. Under the laptop there was an erection growing.

“I just did a search for Daddy’s Girl and of the seventy thousand pages it said were possible, among others, I clicked on this one.”

“When did you do this?” I asked, for some reason.

“I don’t know. About a year ago, I guess.”

“You searched for this kind of stuff a year ago,” I said, my voice rising.

“I didn’t search for it. I just put in those words and this is some of what I found.”

“Oh.”

“The point is, Daddy, that this is just one of thousands of pages of products that are sold to women who love their daddies ... in the same special way I love my daddy. They buy products, but only from the internet, because no brick and mortar store will stock their shelves with this kind of merchandise.”

“I bet The Bed Head would have something like this,” I mused.

“I wouldn’t know. I’m too young to get in there,” said my daughter.

“You tried?”

“I kind of wanted to buy a vibrator and I thought it might embarrass you to have one delivered here, via UPS.”

“Your mother can help you with that,” I said.

“She already did. She took me there when we went shopping this morning.”

“You’re kidding me,” I said, shocked.

“I am not. Do you want to see it?”

“Uh ... no ... that’s okay.” I had a full blown erection, now.

“It’s still in the box. I haven’t used it yet. Mom said to wait until I have lots of time. I was thinking about trying it out when you came in to talk to me.”

“Crap, Riley,” I groaned. “That’s just not the kind of thing girls are supposed to say to their fathers.”

“Daddy, I can show you ten pages of dildos and vibrators that have ‘Daddy’s Girl’ printed on them somewhere. I’m not alone, Daddy. There are millions of girls and women out there who want to know their daddies like I do.”

“Some websites that hawk taboo merchandise doesn’t mean there are millions of guys doing that with their daughters,” I argued.

“Of course there are. Those websites couldn’t stay in business if there weren’t.”

“They could be selling a fantasy,” I said. “Lots of T shirts say things that people don’t actually mean. I had a T shirt when I was in college that said, ‘Nuke ‘em all. Let God sort them out.” It was my favorite T shirt. It horrified people, and that’s exactly why I wore it; to raise a fuss. I didn’t actually mean that the world should be blanketed in nuclear bombs.”

“I’ve never seen a woman wearing something like this,” said my daughter. “Have you?”

“No,” I admitted.

“If it’s a fantasy, then it’s the private kind,” she said. “But still, even if it’s just a fantasy, millions of women have it.”

I sat there, staring at intimate objects, made for women who wanted their fathers to fuck them.

“Man!” I said, frustrated.

“It’s okay, Daddy. I’m not pushing you. I have the rest of my life to be in love with my Daddy.”

“You know, your mother said that to me too. She said you’re falling in love with me.”

She leaned against me.

“It’s not like that. Not exactly. I don’t want to marry you and live with you until you’re in diapers. I just want to be able to love you like that. You’re special and I want to be able to have special feelings with you.”

“It’s causing some strain between Amanda and me,” I said.

“I’m sorry. I know that a lot of women who buy this stuff, maybe even most of them, don’t ever show it to their fathers. I know it’s relatively rare for a woman to actually pursue that kind of relationship. They have to have their fantasy in private. I hoped it would be different for me.”

“We’re happy that you feel free to talk about it with us,” I said, making a very feeble attempt to soothe things.

“I’m actually lucky. If most of the girls I know tried to talk to their parents about something like this, heart attacks and screaming would be involved.”

“So what do we do?”

It seemed I was going to insist that some female tell me what to do. I didn’t feel very manly at the moment.

“Mom said it was up to us.”

“Us?”

“You and me.”

“She said that?”

“While she was painting. She said I came out of Pandora’s box.”

“What did you say?” I asked.

“I told her I thought I’d come out of hers.”

I stared at her.

“Yeah. She didn’t think it was funny either.”

We sat there a while longer. I didn’t change the page and, though my eyes were on the computer screen, I wasn’t actually looking at products that encouraged one to fuck his daughter.

“I love your mother,” I sighed.

“I don’t want that to change,” said Riley.

“I don’t know if she can deal with this,” I said.

“We talked about that. I don’t think she’s as upset about it as you think.”

“Why do you say that?”

“Because she pointed out the vibrator at The Bed Head that she says looks most like yours. That’s the one she bought me.”

When you look in the mirror in the morning, what do you see?

You see your image, but it isn’t what others see. What you see gets filtered through a complex matrix of thought patterns. You see your flaws, the unruly hair, the imperfections in your skin, maybe even a shape to your face you don’t love. You see the negative. At least sometimes.

Someone who loves you, however, sees all that through a different set of filters. What she sees is tousled hair that makes you look cute, the nose she loves to kiss, and things like that. She sees the positive. At least sometimes.

This is a long-winded introduction to set the scene for when my little girl, my princess, insisted that I see the vibrator that her mother hoped would plunder her pussy instead of my penis. Amanda may have marketed it to Riley as something to help her through the rough patches, or satisfy those pesky, horny feelings, but I knew it was an attempt to put something in Riley’s pussy so that there would be no room in there for my magnificent male appendage.

I say “magnificent” not through hubris. Not at all. When Riley pulled it out of the box, it looked magnificent. It was longer than mine, thicker than mine and straighter than mine is when it’s really hard. Mine tends to bend up a smidge. It also had much bigger balls on it than I have. She might not have used it yet, but it had obviously been taken out of the box. All the packing materials were missing.

“Mom says they must have used you for the model for this,” said Riley, holding it up, proudly. Her grip on the fake balls at the base made me wince a little.

“You’ve seen mine,” I said. “What do you think?”

“No way does this look like yours,” she said, artlessly. “But I didn’t want to pop Mom’s balloon.”

“Gee, thanks,” I said.

“Yours has a foreskin,” she went on. “This one has one, but it doesn’t move. It’s also bigger than yours. It feels completely different, too”

I couldn’t argue, so I didn’t try.

“It will be handy for what I want to try next, though,” she said.

“What’s that?” I asked, walking right into her ambush.

“This,” she said, looking right at me.

She put the end of it in her mouth and sucked on it.

“Fuuuuck,” Riley,” I groaned. “Don’t do that!”

“What’s wrong?” Riley asked in an innocent voice, after she pulled off the latex imitation cock. “Mom said you love it.”

She looked at the front of my shorts, which were tented out ridiculously.

“Have a great time,” I said.

I turned to leave and heard a buzzing noise from behind me.

“I plan to,” she giggled.

Amanda was lying in bed, naked, reading.

“I need you,” I huffed, as I removed my clothing between the door and bed.

“I hoped you might,” she said, stretching and opening her legs.

“You got her a fucking dildo!” I accused, as I climbed on top of her. “She’s going to put it in her pussy!”

“That’s what dildos are for, Darling,” she teased. She reached for my cock and aimed it.

We both sighed as I sank into her. About ten or twelve strokes later, her hands came to rest on my shoulders.

“I’ll try not to be jealous,” she said.

“I love you,” I panted.

“I know you do. I know I’m being silly.”

“How did we get to this point?” I asked, still stroking.

“You bought her a sexy bikini,” said my wife.

“I didn’t get it because it was sexy,” I groaned.

“Why did you get it?”

“I thought it would look good. The two of you, I mean.”

“So you thought we would look good? What does ‘good’ mean? Does it mean sexy?”

“I don’t know,” I admitted.

“She’s had secret thoughts about you for a while now. I think all girls go through that at one time or another. Most girls want to marry their daddy at some point in their life.”

“Maybe when they’re six,” I said.

“And maybe when they’re much older,” argued my wife.

“That doesn’t mean they should act on it,” I argued back.

“Most girls can’t act on it.”

“We let her go too far,” I groaned. I couldn’t believe we were having this conversation, and that her pussy still felt so fantastic as it sucked my cock.

“We let her express her inner desires,” said Amanda. “As odd as it sounds, I think it’s healthy.”

“I thought you were the one trying to put on the brakes,” I said.

“I was. Maybe. I wasn’t sure how to feel about it. Some of it makes me want to do ... this.”

“How do you feel now?”

“I feel like as long as we can do this,” she humped up against me and slid her hands to my ass, “we’ll be okay.”

“This?” I asked. “Talk about our daughter’s incestuous desires while we have sex?”

“This doesn’t feel forced. It feels comfortable. I don’t feel like you’re cheating on me. You’re making love to me and doing all the things you know I love. I’m almost ready to cum.”

“Really?” I’d just been sawing in and out of her on autopilot, or so I thought.

“Do that thing where you go in circles,” she panted. “You did it a minute ago. Do it again.”

I went in deep and rotated my loins in small clockwise circles. It caused my pubic bone to advance and recede against her clit, kind of a cyclical massage involving hard and soft pressure. I only had to make six or seven circles before she groaned, clutched me, and came hard.

I spurted in her when she did it. I always do. There’s something about Amanda’s voice when she’s cumming that just sucks the cum out of my balls.

We lay there, panting, for maybe five minutes. We didn’t say anything. Finally she rolled over and reached for the alarm clock. She peered at it as she punched buttons.

“You have to get up in the morning?”

“No. Riley wanted to sleep with us tonight. I told her no. We negotiated and decided she can come get in bed with us in the morning.”

“And we need an alarm clock for that?”

It didn’t occur to me that I accepted the concept of our daughter joining us in bed with no reflection.

“I figure she’ll come in around seven. That’s usually when she wakes up.”

“And we need an alarm clock for that?”

“I’m setting it for six-thirty. I’m going to give you a blow job you’ll never forget.”

“At six-thirty in the morning?”

“I want you as soft as a cooked noodle when that little hussy crawls in bed with us.”

I did, in fact, get a hummer to remember the next morning. Don’t wince. I went to the bathroom before I went to sleep and cleaned up.

It worked like a charm. I did, in fact, get as limp as a wet noodle. When she got through with it, my male appendage was not impressive at all. As far from magnificent as one can be.

The problem was that Riley didn’t show up until eight.

Amanda was sleeping hard by then. She can do that. I’ve heard that soldiers and firemen can sleep anywhere, because sometimes they don’t get the chance to sleep at all. Amanda could fall asleep within sixty seconds of putting her head on a pillow. And she’s hard to waken.

So Riley had all the freedom she wanted, to crawl all over me. The warden might be right next to us, but the cell door was open.

The first thing she did was suck my cock.

Just like that.

She crawled over me to get into the bed and, while she was doing that, she just found my cock and sucked it. It was soft at the time, but it didn’t stay that way for long. She must have practiced on her new toy for hours. Either that or she was a natural born cock-sucker. Still, she didn’t have the skill or experience to bring me off that way. It just felt marvelous.

Eventually she took her mouth off of it and kissed her way up to my chin. Her head broke out from under the covers and she put her face an inch from mine.