Chapter 2

The next few days passed in a whirlwind. Most of Monday had been taken up by the drive back down from Glasgow. Then there had been all the interviews from local and national press. Phone calls from
reporters writing articles for the specialist gymnastic publications, requests for interviews by local radio stations, it seemed endless to Clive.

They eventually disconnected the house phone Monday night and turned off their mobiles in order to get a peaceful night’s sleep.

Tuesday for Clive had consisted mainly of doing all of Monday’s work and that of Friday afternoon. The work colleagues who had said they would cover his workload hadn’t. It was annoying, but nothing he could do anything about other than to knuckle down and work though his breaks.

It wasn’t just the press attention, the girl’s success had brought out all the glory hunters from the proverbial woodwork. His wife’s club pulled its membership from several schools in the area, each one of which had released press statements claiming that the clubs success was due to that particular schools facilities and physical education department. And it wasn’t just the schools jumping on the bandwagon. Several local politicians were also claiming the success was due to their respective political parties local funding policies. Which, considering that the club had never received funding or grants from the local council, in any shape or form, was annoying to say the least.

His wife’s mothers death had other ramifications. Clive was no therapist and knew next to nothing about grief counselling, but it was looking like Irene was channelling all her grief into the club. He wasn’t sure why, if it was due to some perceived guilt at not being there for the club at an important time (for both the club and the girls) or over some inner turmoil about how the club had achieved its best results ever when she hadn’t there.

Clive could see how that would make one doubt their own competency. Either way, every moment not
spent on funeral arrangements was spent on the club. Clive stayed out of her way.

Emily on the other hand, had become very clingy, emotionally and physically. Clive wasn’t sure if her sudden unusual desire for physical touch was a result of the grief or their lovemaking from a few nights previous. She certainly had a new found demanding necessity to be held by him whenever he was near. Regardless as to whether they were in public or alone at home.

He wasn’t sure if this new behaviour of Emily’s was preferable to being avoided. In the cold light of day, the enormity of what had transpired, what he had done, loomed over him. He couldn’t look at her without feeling guilt and remorse. Yet it was tinged with a dark and heady sexual excitement. He couldn’t get over how good she felt naked in his arms, how firm her breasts were as they pushed against his chest, how tight around his cock she had been. If he lingered on the memory too much, he inevitably felt himself start to harden. There were other issues he needed to address and soon. He hadn’t worn protection, not that he had any with him in the first place, and then there was the not so small issue of his seed being firmly implanted within his daughter. At fourteen, pregnancy was going to attract attention from health officials and other authorities. If DNA was taken from any resultant baby in an effort to track down the unknown father, that was going to open an exceptionally unpleasant can of worms.

Wasn’t there a time limit on the morning after pill? He would have to check and quickly.

His wife was on her phone in the living room as he stacked the dishes away in the dishwasher.
Emily was still moping at the table, playing with her phone. He took his chance and sat down next to her.

She looked up sadly as he took her restless hands in his. He tried to keep his voice low. “Emily, there’s something we need to discuss and quickly. We, I, didn’t use protection, there is a chance, you know, that you might become pregnant.”

She smiled ruefully up at him. “It’s okay dad, I’m on the pill.”

“You are?” He couldn’t hide his surprise.

“Like, duh! Mom put me on it when I started my periods years ago...”

“She did?”

Emily just rolled her eyes and shook her head. “It helps to regulate periods...” It was like a weight had been lifted from his shoulders. “And before you ask, yes, you were my first. Boy, male, whatever.”

“Oh.”

They sat in silence for a moment, deep in their own thoughts as Irene started to lose her temper with whoever she was on the phone to. They were still holding hands and he glanced down at her, momentarily distracted by the view his greater height afforded him. She was still in her school uniform, though she had removed her blazer and undone the top buttons of her blouse. Sat this close, he had a tantalising glimpse of young cleavage teased with the briefest hint of bra. He tore his gaze away with difficulty, hoping that she hadn’t noticed. His eyes met hers. She had obviously seen where he had been looking. He blushed, embarrassed at being caught looking, Emily snorted as she watched his face redden.

“Bit late for that, ain’t it?”

“Late for what?”

“You really going to make me say it? Fine, for staring at my tits.”

She made no move to pull her hands from his, nor seemed too bothered at his looking. Clive winced at the loudness of her voice and glanced towards the doorway leading into the living room and his wife.

“Look, I’m sorry Emily, you know, umm things got out of hand and all that ... It won’t happen again. I promise. It was a one off.”

“Did you enjoy it?”

That seemed like a trick question to Clive, It was pretty messily obvious how much he had liked it. He shrugged. “Yes, quite a lot.” He admitted.

Emily shrugged as well “So did I.”

That admission surprised and aroused him in equal measure. He smiled “I certainly gave you a belly full.”

Emily sniggered. “Which Jade found out later when I gave her a mouthful...”

Wait! What! Clive was about to press for more details when they were interrupted.

“Grrrr...” Growled his wife as she stormed into the kitchen, angrily slapping on the kettle switch before belatedly checking the water level. she turned to her husband and daughter still sat at the table. “Coffee?” she asked them.

Clive declined. “No, you are all right love, thanks.”

Emily shook her head. “I’ll leave you two to it.” She let Clive’s hand go and rose from the table. He managed not to stare at how her tight black school trousers accentuated every curve of her bum as she left the room.

Irene made her coffee and turned to Clive. “How is she?”

“Dealing with it. I suppose.” Though he wasn’t sure that sleeping with one’s father would be what most people would term as acceptably ‘dealing with it’.

Irene nodded her head. “Terrible timing.”

“Is any time good to suffer the loss of a loved one?”.

“No I suppose there isn’t. But that’s life.” That was his wife, ever the practical one. She went on to describe the phone call she had just had and the latest arrangement for the funeral and the wake, but Clive heard not a word of it. All he could think about were his daughters last words about giving Jade a mouth full. Did she really mean it how she said it? If she had, then did she fully understand that she had just admitted to her father that she’d had allowed another girl to administer oral sex to her? And had done so with the full knowledge that she held her fathers cum inside. His imagination ran riot with all the different permutations. Had Jade known? Had she been aware of what was in Emily’s pussy? Had she liked it? Clive had never gone down on his wife after he had cum in her. He didn’t know what cum tasted like, had never tried his own, not even out of curiosity.

His wife had stopped speaking and he had absolutely no idea as to what she had said. To try and cover up his inattention, he rose and enveloped her in a tight hug. She dropped her head into his shoulder and started to sob.

They had an early night, Clive hoping that his wife would be up for some sexual release, however she had changed into her ‘comfort’ pyjamas, even though he had gone to bed naked, so that had been a ‘no‘ then. She had surprisingly quickly drifted off to sleep whilst his imagination refused to let the image of Emily kneeling on a hotel bed, doggy style, whilst he knelt behind, hard cock thrusting into her wet sopping pussy as Jade lay underneath in sixty nine, licking Emily’s clit whilst Emily lowered her head between Jade’s thighs to return the favour. All whilst Clara- Shit! He had forgotten all about Clara! I hope Emily told her to say nothing of what happened... watched and rubbed her pussy frantically. God he was so hard. Clive seriously considered slipping from bed and paying his daughter a visit, but the fear of getting caught by his wife was far too great. Instead, he just lay there, wrapped up in his wife’s arms, too aroused to sleep and suffered.

The rest of the week continued its frantic pace. Irene had arranged for the funeral, cremation and wake of her mother for the coming Saturday in Wales. Friends and family needed informing, hotels needed booking along with venues. Irene sent him off to work each day with a list of people that needed contacting and errands that required running that she didn’t have time herself for.

Friday evening saw them all pile into the family car and head West. Irene had her tablet out and was
running through lists, Emily was fast asleep in the back.

They arrived at the hotel and booked in and dropped off the luggage before heading to the funeral parlour to sign paperwork and spend a few last minutes with Irene’s mum.

“She looks like she is sleeping...” Emily said, her voice breaking as she fought and failed, to hold back the tears.

Clive hung back, giving mother and daughter space. Truth be told, he had never really got on with his wife’s mother. In his eye, she had always been quick to find fault in others and seemed to revel in other peoples misfortune. His relationship with his wife’s father had been a bit better, though it seemed to be marred somewhat by an ingrained racism. Clive was English, and therefore a stain on the family’s Welsh heritage. The undertaker gently asked Clive if he wished a tea or coffee and he gratefully accepted as she led him quietly out to an empty waiting room. It was late and he was surprised that the funeral home were allowing them so much time so late in the evening and said so. The woman smiled gently and replied that the chance to spend a last few personal minutes with loved ones was something that could never be regained and that they were more than happy to facilitate things to allow those precious last few moments. Clive nodded and accepted the mug of tea she passed him. When his wife and daughter finally appeared, arm in arm, their eyes were bright red and puffy, their faces wet with tears. Clive drove them back to the hotel.

Saturday was a whirlwind of activity. Early rise and a quick visit to the funeral parlour to say their final private goodbyes and to go over the itinerary for the day with the parlour for the umpteenth time, then to the church to ensure everything was as planned then back to the hotel for a late rushed breakfast, a quick change into their mourning clothes and a hasty exchange with the hotel staff to ensure everything was arranged for the wake after the cremation.

“Can you help me with the zip please?”

Clive paused in the act of doing up his tie to walk over to his wife and pull up the back zip of her dress as she fussed about with the makeup on her face that, in Clive’s eye, didn’t need fussed about with.

Irene adjusted herself in the dress as she pursed her lips together in the mirror as she scrutinised her lipstick application. “Can you check up on Emily? Ensure that she is ready?” Clive nodded and pinned the ends of his tie to his shirt and slipped on his jacket, ensuring that he had the car keys, his phone, wallet and a fresh pack of tissues.

Clive paused outside of his daughters room on knocked gently. “Emily?” The door opened and his daughter stood there, red eyed in a black dress he had never seen before. His wife, or the pair of them, must have picked it up sometime last week. It was a simple, plain and unadorned black dress that fell to just above the knee. It was close fitted enough to follow the curve of hip and waistline. The sleeves were long, almost down to her wrists and the neckline low enough to show the start of cleavage, but nothing to flagrant for the occasion. The material of the dress was stretchy enough to accentuate her budding breasts and prove to those who looked, that she was a child no longer.

Unlike her mother, she had eschewed the use of cosmetics and looked all the better for it. She stepped forward and wrapped her arms round him with a sob. He hugged her back. “Are you ready?” she sniffed a few times and nodded her head. She stepped away from him and retrieved a small black clutch bag from the top of the bed. She wore a small black headband to keep her long hair over her shoulders and her legs whispered together as her black nylon clad legs rubbed together as she walked. On her feet she wore simple black leather slip-ons with no heel. She walked back and took his hand in hers.

Downstairs in the hotel foyer, friends and family were congregating.

Emily stoically weathered the sympathy’s from those she knew and strangers alike, though she didn’t stray far from her father, hanging onto his side possessively.

During the service, Clive sat between his wife and daughter. His wife clutching a bundle of tissues, his daughter clutching his left hand on her lap. He had squeezed her right knee as they had sat down, in what he had hoped was a supportive reassuring manner. Her knee had felt so smooth, so sexual in its nylon sheath, that he had quickly removed it, least he grew distracted. Emily had been quick to pull it back though.

After the service, it was a short trip to the crematorium and then back to the hotel for the wake. Many members of the family were using it as a chance to catch up on gossip and little groups were chatting animatedly away as they slowly but steadily worked their way through the buffet and the contents of the bar.

It was barely gone seven that evening when his wife worked her way over to him and nodded down at their daughter. “Maybe you should take her upstairs, put her to bed?”

Clive looked down. Their daughter did indeed look exhausted, emotionally and physically. Things were also starting to get louder as the alcohol levels increased and peoples inhibitions lowered, family feuds starting to surface as the booze eroded the various unofficial truces. “Come on love, let’s get you to bed.”

Emily didn’t resist as he led her back up to her room. She removed the room card from her bag and opened the door. “Will you stay with me for a moment dad?”

Clive nodded and followed her in. As soon as the door was shut, she was in his arms, holding him tight. She quickly sought out his mouth with hers and kissed him hungrily. He hugged her back and let her tongue invade his mouth. He tried to keep his hands above her waist, on her back, but he had consumed enough alcohol that evening to hamper his self restraint. His hands cupped his daughters buttocks, squeezing them through the fabric of her dress. He was already hard.

Emily pulled her lips away from his. “Dad?”

“Yes my love?”

“Will you make love to me?”

In reply, he kissed her passionately back and pushed her backwards onto her bed. Emily let herself fall, dropping her clutch bag onto the floor. He followed her onto the bed, loomed above her diminutive form. He looked down and watched as he dropped his hands onto her knees, loving how smooth her legs felt under the nylon. He slid them higher, drawing the hem of her dress up with his hands. She parted her thighs as his hands travelled higher. The hem of the dress was starting to fight back, slowing his progress. Emily lifted her hips off the bed and her hem was quickly up around her waist. She was wearing tights. He hadn’t really been expecting her to wear stockings, but that hadn’t stopped his imagination throughout the long day. She wasn’t wearing any panties though and he could just make out her sparse pubic hair through the gusset of the tights. He lowered his head and buried it between her thighs. Emily moaned and grabbed at his hair as he sniffed at, then ran the tip of his nose along the nylon clad ridges of her sex. She opened her thighs further, inviting him closer. He responded by running his tongue along the nylon clad lips of her mons. She moaned aloud again and he felt the nylon dampen through no moisture of his own.

Clive was just as hungry as his daughter was and quickly pulled her tights down to her knees so he could suck and lick her clit. She was more than wet enough for him. He quickly undid his trousers and pulled his hard cock free. Lining the engorged purple tip up against her wet folds, he pushed down and into her. She let out another desperate, needful moan as he slid inside. Clive was too hungry to take it slow. He had been dreaming of this moment all week and it was every bit as good as he had imagined. He felt Emily try to lift her knees, but her tights foiled her effort, trapping her legs under Clive, and she couldn’t reach them with her own hands.

“Stop: take them off!” She begged. Clive paused and leaned back to look into her face, not understanding her plea. “Take my fucking tights off...” she pleaded again.

Clive reached back, determined not to slip from her and tried to remove her tights. He only managed to free one thin leg before she wrapped both around his hips, her left leg still entangled in nylon. Her movement sucked him deeper inside her and lifted her bum clear of the bed. Her fingernails dug into his back and he was glad of the padding of his jacket. Fingernail scratches would be a little hard to explain to the wife.

The tightness of her legs around him stopped him from pulling out of her far enough to get a good pleasurable thrust. Which was probably just as well, otherwise he would already be spurting his seed inside her. The way she was grinding her mons against him, implied that she was just as desperate to cum as he was. Eventually, she loosened her legs enough so that he could get a decent stroke, though he decided that it hadn’t been for his benefit when he felt one of her hands slip between them. The frantic moments of the hand between them implying that she was giving the onset of her orgasm a literal helping hand. Emily cried out then followed it with a sigh as the wet slapping sound started. Clive pulled back till he was almost out then drove back in ruthlessly, determined not to be left out of the orgasm club.

He felt her body go limp beneath him as her hands flopped back onto the bed. Clive felt the start of the tingle and sped up, desperate not to let it get away. The sensation spread from the base of his cock to the tip and then he was spurting inside her.

“Mmm” She murmured as she felt him cum inside her. Finally satiated, he collapsed next to her on the bed and she snuggled her head into his armpit. He heard her breathing slow as she drifted off to sleep as he softened and slipped out of her. Gently, he lifted his arm and checked his watch. They had not even been in the room ten minutes, yet he felt that it had been a lot longer. He rose from the bed and draped a blanket over her, not wanting to disturb her to get her under the covers that she was currently sprawled on top of.

Clive shut the door quietly and headed back downstairs. No-one seemed to have noticed his absence, though that seemed mostly to be the result of the amount of JD and Speyside’s finest that had been consumed.

Eventually his wife had had enough of her relatives and headed for bed. Clive followed her.
Inside their room, he started stripping for a shower, keen to get rid of any tell-tale smell of sex that might arouse suspicion now that it wasn’t masked by the smell of booze and the body odours of many people.

“Before you jump in the shower, can you unzip me please love?” She bared her back to his naked form. He padded over and unzipped her to her waist. She stepped out of her dress and slipped on a dressing gown, picking up the key card. “I’m just going to check up on Emily.” She said as he stepped into the shower. Clive soaped himself all over, paying close attention to his groin and the hair there that was matted with both his and his daughters dried cum. He had just stepped out and was drying himself when his wife stepped back in. She was not best pleased and he felt a stab of worry lance through him.

“I asked you to do one thing!”

He sighed, too tired for an argument. “What have I not done?”

“When I said ‘put her to bed’ I didn’t mean just dump her on her bed and drape a blanket over her!”

“Well, what else was I supposed to do!”

“You could have ensured that she at least took her dress off!”

“She’s not a child any more love. I have to respect her privacy and her body.”

“For god’s sake, don’t go all woke on me. You’re her father, not some horny teenage boy out to deflower her in the moment of her vulnerability! I mean it’s not as if you haven’t bathed her or changed her soiled nappies now, is it?”

“I know, I know. I just didn’t want her to feel awkward and embarrassed.”

“So you hand her, her pyjama’s and gently usher her into the bathroom to change and wait outside till she does, and then ensure she a safely tucked up in bed.”

Clive opened his mouth, realised he had nothing to say and shut it again. His wife sat down at the vanity mirror and aggressively started to remove her make up. “Men! It’s a miracle you even know how to swim in the right direction!”

They met their daughter downstairs for breakfast. She raised an eyebrow at Clive and nodded her head towards her mother who was still choosing what to have for breakfast from the hot plate. “What’s she in a bad mood about?”

“You and I.”

Emily paused in the act of putting food in her mouth and looked justifiably worried as her mother finally headed over with her breakfast.

“She’s annoyed,” Clive said as Irene sat down with them with her breakfast. “because I never took your dress off and properly put you to bed.”

“Eww, that’s gross. I’m NOT a child anymore dad!”

Clive looked pointedly at his wife. “That’s what I said...”

“And like ‘I’ said, you hand over her sleepwear and let her change in the bathroom...”

Emily waved her now empty fork at her father. “Mum has a point, why didn’t you dad?”

“That’s not fair! You’re supposed to be on my side!” He complained.

“Thanks mum. I couldn’t remember taking my dress off. Let alone hanging it up so it didn’t get badly creased and ruined...”

“Not a problem pet. Someone in this family has to look out for you.”

Emily smirked at her father around a mouthful of bacon.

The drive back home was pretty much the same as the drive to Wales, but in reverse. Emily slept in the back for almost the entire journey and his wife tapped, typed and scrolled away on her tablet.
It had only been two nights, but it was still a comforting relief to be home. Irene put aside her dress and his suit for the dry cleaners and everything else was either bunged in the washer or put in a pile next to it until the current cycle finished. Clive checked his briefcase and ensured he had everything ready for Monday and retired early to bed.

As usual, he awoke a few minutes before the alarm sounded and as usual, he turned it off before it did. Naked, he padded bare foot into their on-suite and abluted. He had enough time for a quick coffee before he needed to leave to catch his tube train. He sipped at the scalding contents as he watched the early morning news on the small flat screen mounted upon the kitchen wall. He heard the soft step of naked feet and looked round expecting to see his wife, but it was Emily, still rubbing the sleep from her eyes.

“Morning dad.”

“Morning Judas.”

“Uh, Who?”

“Never mind.”

“Are you still pissed at me taking mums side?”

“No, not at all. Traitor.”

They stared at each other in silence then both burst into laughter at the same time.

“I think I know of something that will cheer you up dad...”

“Oh?” Clive enquired.

Emily stepped closer. Her hair was a straggly sleep tossed mess and she was wearing the large T-shirt that she normally used to sleep in when at home. She took his left hand -since it currently wasn’t holding a scolding hot mug of coffee- in both of her smaller ones and moved it under her T-shirt and placed it against the front of her panties. She let his hand go. He brazenly rubbed her through the soft material and watched her nipples suddenly appear through the material of her T-shirt. Clive wondered how far she would allow him to go and decided on the spur of the moment to find out. He slipped his fingers under her panties and his index finger into her.

She gasped aloud at his intrusion but made no move to bat his hand away. He teased her clit with his thumb as he gently finger fucked her.

“It’s not polite to start what you don’t intend to finish...” She whispered faintly.

“Oh I intend to finish, just not here and now...”

“Seriously dad, stop it or I’ll end up humping one of the kitchen chairs...” He continued to finger her as he thought back to their frantic coupling on Saturday night. He wished that he had gone slower, taken more time to appreciate her incredible body. He hadn’t even seen her breasts. “Daaadd...” Emily warned again, still making no move to stop him or pull away.

“Show me your breasts...” He commanded, surprising himself with the order. Clive wondered if she wore a bra to bed. She gave him a quizzical look but lifted the hem of her T-shirt to her chin anyway.

It turned out that she didn’t and he stared at her firm breasts that had no sag whatsoever. He pulled his hand from her panties, eliciting a little moan of lust from her as his index finger pulled clear of her pussy. He cupped her right breast then her left. Pinching both her nipples lightly between his thumb and forefinger.

“Oh God...” She whispered. There was an actual visible tremble in her knees.

The reporter on the TV announced the time and Clive realised he was in danger of being late. Deliberately provocatively, he raised his hand to his face and sucked on his still wet index finger. His daughter stood there, still baring her breasts, mouth open as she breathed fast through it, her nostrils flaring with every breath. Her eyes wide open, all trace of sleep gone.

“We shall continue this later.” Clive collected his work stuff as Emily let her T-shirt fall back down and she swallowed the sudden moistness in her mouth.

It was hard to sort out his usual plan of attack for the day on the tube ride into work. Listing the jobs and tasks that needed doing first. His regime of the last decade or so managed to partly weather the shaky start, but was completely derailed mid journey when his phone beeped, notifying him of a message. It was a bit early, but not impossible to be work, most likely it was the wife asking him to pick up something on the way home. She always did that in the morning, rather than closer to the time he was liable to be returning home, and therefore more likely to remember to do so.

It was neither. It was from his daughter.

Any message from her was rare at the best of times. There was an attached file and he was of a mind to delete it straight away in case it was a virus. There was text that accompanied the file, he read it.

: look at what you made me have to do! :

That really sounded like classic click bait. He swiped through his phone apps till he found his anti-virus package and told it to scan the message. Two stations passed before it came back giving it the all clear. Still, he paused before opening it. The attachment was a short video clip, just a few seconds long. When it finished, he quickly deleted both video attachment and carrier message. Nervously, he looked to either side of him, but his fellow commuters didn’t seem to have noticed what was on the screen. Which was of great relief. Even though the clip was only a few seconds long, and the view entirely taken up by the close in shot of a vagina. It was apparent from the remarkably well in focus shot, that the owner of the vagina was of dubious legal age by the size of the surrounding lips and sparseness of the pubic hair. The handle of what was most probably of a comb or hairbrush was very wet as it slid in and out.

Clive was starting to wonder who was really seducing whom.

The day had been a struggle, even the simplest of tasks had proven difficult. Even his fellow co-workers had picked up on the fact that his mind was elsewhere. Though, thankfully, none had come out and asked him what was on his mind. Yet.

There had been no further texts from his troublesome daughter during the day. Though she had given him plenty of sly side glances during their evening meal. He retreated early again to bed, raising a concerned eyebrow from his wife. He was so horny for his daughter, that he again seriously considered paying her a midnight visit. Risks be damned. Somehow he had managed to drop off, but was awoken again by Irene climbing into bed. She moved close to him and he wrapped an arm around her.