It was one of those fantastically languid moments. The intensity of the orgasm left my mind blank, spent. My whole body was weak as I lay on the couch, afraid that I might just flow off it into a puddle on the floor. I open my eyes and see Nina's back, lightly tanned, and the twin, creamy firm orbs of her paler buttocks, mechanically, automatically, rising and falling over my softening cock. My wife is still milking the last out of her intensely powerful orgasm.. but I am spent.

I hear a noise, and there in the doorway is Sue, our youngest daughter. Only thirteen, but so grown-up looking and womanly-wise.. She has been watching us make love... watching my long, thick cock pound up into her mother's bouncing cunt until finally we both achieved the delicious release we were striving for. Sue stares at us through passion-glazed eyes, her own voyeuristic arousal patently obvious. The crotch of her white leotard has bunched between the lips of her young pussy, and her wetness has stained through to darken the thin strip of fabric pulled into her slit . She is such a gorgeous-looking girl, her long, blonde hair cascading down her back, her long legs muscular and tanned. I feel the need to say something to my wife, warn her that our daughter is watching us make love... but I'm so spent that I cannot speak. Somehow it doesn't seem wrong to let her watch. It all seems so... so natural.

My cock softens so that the head drops out of the grasp of my wife's tight clinging cunt and thuds against my stomach. It is oiled with our fluids, gleaming in the light of the fire that burns next to us. Nina's rhythmic motion is so subtle now I can only discern it from the contractions of her shoulders, I cannot detect the small rise and fall of her body. She still straddles me, and beneath the cleft of her buttocks I can see the stringy droplets resulting from our friction spilling from her and sticking to the dewy hair on my upper thighs. Her right hand reaches behind her, between her parted thighs, and I feel Nina's fingers curl around my limp prick. I can feel her finger-tips adhere to the goo that coats my cock, and the tightness of the sticky bond when she pulls her hand away.

Nina lifts herself off me, swinging her leg over my chest. I can see her thighs gleam from our spill. She walks over to the chair were the towel lies spread, our pubic hair scattered and stuck to the threads by the shaving lubricant we used earlier. From her silhouette projected on the wall I watch as Nina wipes herself clean. I look around the shadowy room with the flicking flames casting a varied depth of light, but cannot see Sue. Nina leaves, after finding the towel was soiled, to wash herself. I lie naked on my back and close my eyes.

I remember our love-making.

I can feel the walls of Nina's cunt engulf me, slipping over my erection like a soft suede glove flexes and grips my fingers. And the way her the muscles of her vagina rippled over the length of cock once it was fully embedded in her. At that moment I was lost, clenching and unclenching my scrotum and feeling the vibrations pulse along my length. My eyes closed. Nina pulsing my cock. I don't know where I was, somewhere in the agony before the ecstasy. Another universe. Then I feel one of Nina's fingers joining my cock in her cunt. Tonight she feels the not infrequent need to really have her cunt really stretched. It felt good.

Nina's cunt massaged me, her finger massaged me, the nail at its end scratching against the underside of my cock head, its hardness muted by the wetness of Nina's secretions. It was so weird. I just lay there, trying to control my eruption. Then Nina spasmodically rose and dropped hard onto my prick. I knew she was coming. Her finger pressed against my cock and her palm ground against her clit with the rhythm of our fucking, and I came too.

I return to the present. Reliving that orgasm, each sensation is some catharsis to reenter the real world. My brain is here. The room is dark, and only red embers glow from the fire place. The wood is damp and the room smoky, it reminds me of the wet Appalachian apple orchards of the harvest times of my youth. Naked I throw some more logs on the coals and stoke the fire. The little light from the fireplace emits a gauzy reflection off the window panes, but I see a slender figure beyond them on the screen porch. The flames behind me warm my back and backside, but my chest feels cold. I can almost feel the damp coldness wash over from the lake through the close door.

Sue does not turn when I come out to the porch, but stares at the ice dark lake water, or perhaps the fast-moving cumulus clouds that are the silver lining of a starry sky. For the first time I hear the wind whistling. I feel I must talk to my daughter, say something to her... explain... anything. I sense that she is troubled by what she saw, but I don't know it it is embarrassment, guilt or even jealousy. I put my hands on her shoulders, in a fatherly gesture. She does not flinch, she knows I am there. I want to press my body against her, but she is obviously upset... there should be space here now. It is hard for both of us to come to terms with the intimacy she has witnessed. I suddenly have an uncontrollable urge to share it with her.

Sue has shared our parental love for her, but never actually witnessed our physical love until now. It's as if she's been in our lives, loving us both, but in a cameo role. I can understand the indignant flexing of her back, and the way her shoulders melt into my palms. I ask Sue if she would like to come back inside, now that the fire is roaring. It is cold out here.

She turns, and for the first time realises that I am still naked. Her eyes seem to sparkle mischievously in the firelight and I seem to detect a tiny smile lift the corners of her mouth as my cock brushes inadvertently against her thigh. I shiver at the momentary contact, but not because of the cold. Come on inside, I tell her with a grin, before your poor old Dad catches pneumonia. I sit her on the couch in front of the fire and go in search of my wife.

Nina is in the kitchen. I tell her everything, except the fact that the idea of our own daughter watching us have sex actually turned me on. But Nina is no fool. She nuzzles my neck and whispers; "You want to fuck her, don't you?" What can I say. I shrug my shoulders non-committally and just stare at her stupidly. I could never successfully lie to Nina.

"It's okay, leave everything to me," she whispers, "Now go keep her company while I get us some drinks" I shake my head in disbelief, but do as Nina says. I always have.

Sue is still on the couch where I left her, fidgeting uneasily. We sit beside one another, separated by a palm width of propriety, she in her gleaming leotard while I am still naked. I watch as the light from the burning logs flickers over her beautiful face. She has her mother's fair looks, serene yet with a tantalizing hint of devilment about her. There are freckles on her cheeks that almost glow as the tongues of flame lick outward in the fireplace. I can feel my daughter's flush rise from the warmth of the blaze before us. I long to savour that young animal heat rising from her tender flesh with my hands, but to feel it is inappropriate. We stare at the depth of the fire, apart, together.

Nina comes into the room. She bears a tray with a bottle of wine and three glasses and sets it down on the table in front of the overstuffed couch catty corner to the Ottoman where I sit beside Sue. Nina is wearing a silk wrap around gown that barely reaches to the top of her thighs and that is translucent in the roar of the fire. Nina's light brown hair drops over this fine material and seems to be organic, pulsing in the light of the flames. She tells me to clean myself, and I realize that our outpourings have gelled on my lower body. I leave, as instructed and wash my genitals in the sink of our white tiled bathroom. The warm water from the faucet flows over my nether parts, the bar of soap cleaning the evidence our strenuous coupling away with its bubbling lather. In the bedroom I find a pair of grey cotton drawstring pants and a black T-shirt and put them on.

Five minutes have passed when I return to the room. From the top of the varnished stairs I can see the fire has ebbed, and that Nina and Sue sit close together on the couch. Their bodies are white, but the luminesce of Nina's gown glares over the whiteness of Sue's body suit. Their arms and heads are dull shadows, Sue's blonde head a nightlight, Nina's light brown hair a texture in the penumbra of her radiance. I walk down the stairs behind the couch. For a moment I think that Sue is crying. Her head is almost buried into the crotch of her mother's armpit, and Nina is caressing Sue's back. My bare feet let me move silently across the hardwood floor but Nina looks up as I approach. I catch her glance and its message.

Slowly Nina's caresses pull the straps of Sue's leotard off her shoulders. I place my hands on Sue's neck, my fingers dwelling over its nape, tracing over the shape of the vertebrae. I help push the straps down my daughter's upper arms and palm the corner of each shoulder with each hand, as I held her earlier on the porch. Again I want to press my body against her back. Nina nuzzles Sue's cheek and neck. I watch as Nina slowly works the top of Sue's leotard down. I can see from my vantage point, behind the couch, the creamy swell of her firm young breasts emerge to the light. Sue's nipples are distended, almost like grub worms, in their erectness. I long to pinch them, or at least cup her breasts like I do her shoulders, but instead I watch as Nina's nose and mouth trace a line of kisses and pressure to the cleavage between Sue's breasts.

For a moment I am entranced. Watching my wife in an intimate embrace with our daughter is hard to believe, but the sight is an incredible turn-on. I watch as my daughter's young breasts are revealed in all their glory. She is so young and perfect. I feel drawn to her, compelled to worship her gorgeous young body as my wife is doing, so I kneel on the floor. I press my face under her hair and kiss the space against her neck that Nina just recently vacated. I can feel Sue's breath expelling downwards on to my face, with its aromas of Shiraz, apple and Nina. I close my eyes and bury my face behind Sue's left ear, drowning in the sea of my daughter's silky blonde hair.

Blinded, my left hand explores on its own. I sense it tracing down Sue's forearm and can see in my mind's eye it forays over Sue's speckled tanned skin. Instinctively I know that Nina has moved on. As I kiss Sue's hair line behind her ear, my hand bridges that gap between her ulna and ribs and my fingers feel the crease where her left breast meets her chest. My fingers reach upwards over the spherical incline until I feel her knotty nipple between the cleft of my middle and index finger. I squeeze my digits, clasping her breast and pinching Sue's nipple warmly, not tightly. God, I am feeling up my own daughter! Pure heaven.

To check on Nina I remove my face from the nest of Sue's hair. Nina is almost kneeling on the couch. Sue's leotard has been pulled down to below her waist and rests tightly over her tips. My right hand slips from Sue's shoulder to mirror-image my left. It holds her breast, and I gently pinch my fingers together and feel the stiff nubbins of my daughter's nipples enveloped in the soft web of flesh between my longest fingers. Emboldened by her moans of arousal, my mouth finds hers, and we kiss. Sue's eyes close when our lips entwine, but I look down and watch as Nina's tongue swirls around and into Sue's navel. A part of me can't believe this is happening, as I watch my own wife pay homage to our 13-year-old daughter with her mouth.

I can see Nina pulling down the bunched leotard with her left hand, trying to bring it over Sue's jutting pelvis, while her right hand strokes the tops of Sue's thighs. Almost imperceptibly Sue's legs begin to widen. I kiss her harder, and think I see the damp spot over the crotch of her leotard expand. The sight is incredibly arousing.

Nina lifts her head from Sue's stomach and kneels on the floor. Swiftly she lifts Sue's legs over her head and lays them lengthwise on the couch. This movement breaks my kiss with Sue, whose head falls onto the seat of the sofa. I kneel in a vacuum behind the couch. Nina pulls at the leotard bunched at Sue's waist, and I watch as Sue lifts her hips so as to allow her mother to fully undress her. I watch as the white clothing is stripped down Sue's legs and hoops through the final hurdle of her ankles. My eyes travel up my daughter's legs to her naked crotch. Her cunt-hair is almost non-existent and in the dull fire-light, the blonde fuzz covering her plump mound is completely transparent.