Chapter 1

In what circumstances should a teenage girl best discover the facts of life? Sex Ed class? The back seat of a Lexus droptop? Or during one of those late-night mom-daughter chats? For young Shelley, her sexual initiation was to take a far more direct route - in bed with her parents!

But have you ever even thought about doing anything improper as far as Shelley is concerned Greg?” She was staring at her husband as one might a laboratory specimen. “Be honest with me, I promise I won’t hold it against you hun – I’m just interested.

“Jesus Christ,” Greg was thinking, “What father if he was honest had never once looked at his teenage daughter, if only in a moment of surging hormonal unrest, and wondered what it would be like to shove her face-down on the bed, tug those hot little panties down beneath that damnably clingy little nightdress and bring her fully up to date on sex-ed while she moaned herself stupid like Justin Timberlake in the recording studio.

“Well Trace,” he replied, figuring the jury was gonna return a guilty verdict in any event, “Since you ask, yeah, I guess I have noticed Shelley has kinda grown-up of late. Hard to miss really – well from a male viewpoint.” Tracey sat up straight in bed, hugging her knees.

“You’re avoiding my question though Greggy. Have you ever gone past the “noticing” stage? I mean...” she paused, looking for the right words, “Has it ever reached the, you know ... fantasy stage?”

Greg was distinctly uncomfortable in the witness stand. “Come on Tracey,” he replied, “You’re asking me if I have ever thought about having sex with my own daughter?” He sat there staring at his wife. “You know?” he muttered, “All this research you’re doing for your Psyche major is messing with your mind Trace. You’re gonna end up wondering if every man fits your lecturer’s profile of an urban rapist ... if not the local neighborhood pedophile.”

“Don’t get mad with me hun,” she pouted, suddenly all hurt and vulnerable. “I was just wanting to get a male perspective here ... especially from a guy with a pretty young daughter. Doesn’t mean I think you’re actually gonna try anything with her – God forbid!” He studied his still very attractive wife, barely past her mid thirties. Aggression he had learned early in life, was a handy defense tactic.

“Ok Trace, now you be honest with me. OK?” She slipped effortlessly into her cute-as-a-button look! “Does the thought of me doing stuff to Shelley turn you on at all?” He saw the look of abject horror cross her face at much the same time he heard the sharp intake of breath. He couldn’t be sure, but that looked much like a suppressed blush she was battling to come to terms with concurrently.

“How could you ask such a thing Greg?” she responded abruptly.

“I’ll take that as a “Yes,” I think,” he smirked, half aware suddenly that the subject matter was causing a stiffening of his nether regions, an actuality which might be construed as counter-productive under the circumstances. Now his wife was visibly blushing. “Shelley’s just a young girl Greg,” she muttered, “Our sixteen-year old daughter ... let’s get real here!”

“Well you started the topic Trace,” he replied, moving across to her and running his hand suggestively up her thigh. “I can’t be responsible for what might happen.” He had reached the hem of her nightdress and began pushing the soft material upwards. She wasn’t breathing all that regularly he noted with keen interest. Idly watching the progress of her hemline as it inched its way north, she became curiously aroused. At the point her panties were exposed, she felt deliciously alert to the possibilities, and making no pretence at closing up her legs, allowed her husband’s hand free- passage to its fully indecent destination.

Greg of course was mentally slipping his hand up inside his daughter’s panties right that moment. Only the rising tide of his wife’s arousal snapped him back to the real world. “Jesus Trace,” he mumbled, “You’re really up for it tonight aren’t you?” he added, in response to the already accumulated moisture on-site. “Sure you’re not thinking about our conversation just now?”

The fact is, Tracey was imagining those very fingers encroaching upon her daughter’s undoubtedly virginal and fully-unchartered genitalia. In her mind, she could hear already the delicate gasps as the girl’s father relieved her first of her PJ’s and subsequently her tight little panties ... Never had Tracey been so wet. In no mood now for continued foreplay, all she wanted was his procreational tool as far up her slippery little pussy as she could get it. Greg’s needs mirrored his wife’s decadent urges and pushing her back on the pillow he was stunned to see her lying there, legs spread to the max, as she held her panties aside for him like a cheap whore. It was a look he could get used to.

Not by any stretch of the imagination could the casual observer have declared this to be a love-making session. Greg simply was plunging in with impunity to the local slut whose personal needs ran to getting herself fucked insensible on a regular basis. Not exactly a case of intended synchronicity, yet both participants reached their orgasmic plateau at the same moment. It was only seconds past the finishing line that she realised her bra straps either side had been snapped in her husband’s frenetic need to disrobe her. Both breasts she noted with not a little satisfaction, bore the marks of intense groping, while her nipples quite evidently, could have supported a four-player tag-team of hoop-la! As they floated jointly into that post-coital haze of shared-contentment in which the principal activity is that concerned with a levelling out of the respiratory process – neither were game to air their suspicions as to their partner’s agreeably hands-on participation in what could justifiably be termed. “the union of the month.” After all, why run the risk of self- incrimination?

“Goodnight hun,”

Throughout the following day, Greg’s mind just wasn’t on his job while Tracey found concentrating on household chores, not far off impossible. What both were thinking about however would have embarrassed the most committed of social workers, if not your average Supreme Court Judge. “Can you help me with my Ancient History assignment dad?” Shelley asked of her father after dinner, two nights later. “My teacher is soo dumb – he doesn’t explain anything to us.” Looking at his daughter slumped elbows-first across the table, cradling her cheeks in her hands and pouting rather inelegantly, he was again made so aware of the unutterable appeal of teenage femininity. With her skirt displaying several inches of visible thigh in that posture, and the curve of those sculptured breasts more than evident beneath her school blouse, Greg felt the on-set of those now quite familiar stirrings.

“Sure honey,” he replied, and putting down the newspaper he went over and sat beside her at the table.

Half an hour later, having helped her research and tabulate the lives of several Pharaohs from the Dynastic New Kingdom, he found himself staring at that blemish-free visage, those cute little wispy brown curls at either temple and that wonderfully smooth ski- ramp as it descended invitingly beneath her top two buttons. She smelt of youth and promise!

“What are you looking at dad?” she asked suddenly but not accusingly. It snapped him out of his reverie.

“Nothing sweetheart,” he replied, “Just thinking how very pretty you are and how much I love you.” The soft blush which invaded her cheeks melted his heart.

Some three hours later, standing beneath the hot shower, Shelley watched fascinated as rivulets of steaming water snaked across her fairly small, though in-arguably well-developed breasts. Idly, she toyed with a nipple. It felt nice and her mind wandered. She remembered her father staring at her so lovingly while helping with her assignment earlier. He was a really good-looking man she had to admit ... she had never really thought of him that way before, but there again she had never been playing with her nipples like this either. She gave a little gasp and dropped her hands to her sides. “God, look how erect they are?” she thought to herself. Having dried off, she took longer than usual with her underwear...”What would it be like having daddy dress me now?” she pondered momentarily before chiding herself for having such thoughts.

The comfort-inducing heat from the shower must be causing these mind-slips she decided. Looking-in on her parents on the way back to her bedroom she just leaned around the door and uttered a breezy “Night mom, night dad ... thanks for all the help!”

“Come and give me kiss sweetheart,” Greg called out to his daughter as he nestled comfortably his side of the huge bed, reading the last chapter of “The Da Vinci Code.” Scuttling across the room, she climbed up on the bed and proffered a cheek for her father to kiss her. In the fraction of time it had taken her to cover that short distance, Greg had an eyeful of that curvy little body, little of which was hidden by those yummy little PJ’s which he noted, had thoughtfully ridden-up at the waist slightly as she navigated the coverlet.

The scent of soap, body lotion and scrubbed young female were almost more than he could stand.

“Gosh dad!” she giggled as he kissed her full on the lips, passing-up the cheek option in favor of the more stimulating facial contact. In that second she almost understood. She was still looking at him, emotions in turmoil, hormones on red-alert when her mother whispered, “Now don’t go teasing your father Shelley, he’s only a man after all.”

Now she really blushed. “He kissed me mom!!” she giggled.

It was too much for Greg. Seizing his daughter around the waist, he pulled her to him. There was he noticed, something less than a degree of measured resistance. This time the kiss was protracted. He could feel his wife’s eyes taking in the extraordinary scene. If it was doing to her what it was doing to him, his daughter was in big trouble. “Dad!!!” she mumbled, pulling back from him, eyes now the size of saucers. “You shouldn’t be doing that!”

The far side of the bed, Tracey watched her young daughter’s enforced lip-action, complete with a sudden hot flush, at the point Shelley’s clearly defined little rear end was starkly outlined beneath her PJ pants as her father pulled her closer. Slipping marginally lower, the vaguest onset of her cleft became visible. Tracey felt the rapid moisture build-up between her own legs. Pulling her forwards once more, Greg kissed his daughter even harder. Confused yet aroused, the young girl responded, temporarily forgetting her mother’s presence behind her. “I love you sweetheart,” he whispered. “Do you like me kissing you like that?” Embarrassed all to Hell, she just nodded shyly avoiding his eye contact. She started suddenly as her mother reached across and laid a hand on her daughter’s shoulder. “It’s OK Shelley,” she said, “I know dads aren’t supposed to kiss their daughters like that – but it feels good, right??”

The girl turned and glanced towards her mother. “Did Grandpa ever kiss you like that mom?” she asked plaintively. “Oh, yes honey, he did,” she lied, wondering what God-forsaken waters they were all entering here.

Aware now that his wife too was encroaching upon the borders of what might be termed reckless endangerment, he hugged Shelley tighter. Even through his pyjama top he could feel her small breasts pressing up against his chest. Whatever problems Darth Vader had on hand when confronted with the Dark Side he decided, were but minor distractions compared to the twin forces of lust and desire that were now imprinting their will on his emotions.

“Hey sweetheart,” he muttered, disengaging his arm from her waist, “Just get yourself comfortable here – like you used to do when you were a little girl Shelley. He patted the coverlet between himself and Tracey. Confused and aware that the situation was moving far to the right of normal parental affection, the young girl was nevertheless excited – both by her father’s kisses and his close proximity.