Candice Sampson crept into her house, carefully avoiding each creaking stair and softly muffling each clicking lock. Whatever she did, she wanted to avoid waking her father.

It wasn't that Candice was in trouble, quite the contrary. She was quiet to avoid disturbing a hard-working man who slept poorly at best. Her dad would be thrilled she'd gone to the movies with friends, had fun and stayed out late.

She could hear him now. "Goddamn it, Candice Faye, it's not like you died same time as your mother. You need to get out, quit hovering around me all the time. You're 19. Go on, move out on your own, get yourself a life. I'm not gonna break."

But yet she was worried he might.

It wasn't that he'd sunk into a depression; it was just that the aching hole her mother's passing had left in them both had never really healed at all for her father.

She would watch him turn to speak to her empty chair at meals, expecting her to be there. He'd sit on the couch, carefully avoiding sitting in her place. And at night, Candice would hear him calling out her mother's name, "Candice Jean", as his dreams tormented him.

So she stayed, and she hovered, knowing that when she finally left her father's house, the last piece of his beloved wife would depart from his sight.

But tonight had been fun, a movie with friends, and afterwards they'd gone out for coffee and talked. Steve Wesson had even hit on her. He was an insufferably arrogant prick; the town drunk would be preferable.

Besides, she didn't really have time for a boyfriend. Taking care of the house, working in the family nursery business, these kept her far too busy for a love life.

As she slowly moved up the stairs, she heard him stirring restlessly in his bed. Reaching the top of the stairs, she headed for her room. As she crept down the hallway, she forgot to avoid one of the loose floorboards and it gave out its trademark creak. She froze, waiting to see if she had disturbed him.

Dan Sampson lay in bed, heart pounding. His plan, formulated weeks before, was now ready to be put in motion, if he had the courage.

He either had to have her or she had to leave, it was that simple. He still loved his wife, he still missed his wife, but having his daughter always around the house was driving him mad.

He had inklings that perhaps, just maybe, she might feel something similar for him, but he had forced himself to examine that scanty evidence rationally and he knew that he could all to easily be wrong and he was sure he probably was.

So he had made his plans. And waited for that rare night when Candice Faye would stay out late.

And it had happened and now it was time.

As Candice remained frozen, she heard her father call out her name.

"Candice?"

Oh well, the jig was up, she thought, went to his door and opened it, stepped in.

She stopped in the doorway, transfixed by the sight before her.

Her father laid on the bed on his side, naked, mostly uncovered, the moonlight illuminating his form. He was only 41, the nursery business kept him in good shape and any woman would have found the man on the bed attractive.

What had drawn Candice's eyes was his cock, semi-erect, draped across the sheet.

It was the first real cock she'd ever seen, if you discounted a brief game of 'doctor' in the third grade with Billy Williams.

She shook herself. What was she doing, staring at her father's dick? She had lucked out, he was still asleep, she should get the hell out before she did awaken him and this turned into a really embarrassing scene.

Dan opened his eyes just a slit. There she was, his daughter.

Though it sometimes hurt him to admit it, she was more beautiful than her mother. She took after his side of the family and his mother and sisters were all lovely. Her shoulder-length blonde hair, the soft roundness of her breasts, larger than her mother's, her narrow waist, her wide hips and full ass. The bow of her lips which even now were pursed as she pondered what to do.

When he had first started fantasizing about his own child, the guilt had tried to eat him alive. How could he? How could he want her? How could he dare think of his own daughter that way?

But the days kept going by; they worked together, ate together, lived together and the guilt was worn away by her beauty, by the way she wore her hair, by the nightgown she wore in the evenings, by the pair of shorts she wore in the nursery, by the sweat-soaked t-shirts at the end of a long day, by the smell of her dirty and the smell of her clean. It was worn away by brushes in the hall, quick naked runs from the bathroom, morning hugs at the breakfast table with her beautiful tits inches from his mouth, evening hugs of her body pressed up against his. The guilt was ground down by the cascading music of her laughter, by her friendly earthy smile, by the sound of her singing along with what passed for music these days; most of all it was worn down by the oft-repeated phrase "I love you, Daddy".

One day as he'd furiously pumped his cock, he'd realized that there was no more guilt left.

Just love- love and desire.

She was hesitating. He instinctively felt she'd taken the bait, but he needed to play her a bit before she was scared away.

"Oh God Candice, I love you ... I need you..."

Candice instinctively took two steps across the room towards him. He needed her! But then she stopped, remembering where she was, who she was.

She wasn't his wife, she was his child. The dick slowly becoming more erect before her eyes wasn't her husband's, or her lover's, it was her father's.

But she wasn't really just his daughter anymore, was she? She was the lady of the house in every way but one. She was his wife without the sex life.

He needed her and growing warmth in her pussy was telling her she wanted him. And it wasn't the first time she'd wanted him, not by a long shot. Teenage girls were seething lakes of hormones just like teenage boys and if she hadn't the social time around boys her own age to foster a fantasy life, she had time around someone she loved much more than she could ever conceive of loving any boy she knew.

She took another two steps closer to the bed. At the tip of his dick she could make out a small glistening mound of fluid.

He was still fast asleep, a little restless, he'd never know ... she bent down and carefully reached out with her tongue, catching the fluid on the tip. A faintly salty but otherwise pleasant taste swirled in her mouth.

What the fuck was she doing? She'd put her tongue on her daddy's dick! Goddamn, this was wrong on so many levels!

But even as she was in shock at her own daring, she was moving to take his cock in her mouth.

She knelt at the edge of the bed, carefully, slowly, leaning on it, bending her head lower. Not wanting a dry spot to catch and wake him up, she gathered a mouthful of saliva and slowly let it flow onto his prick, and then she carefully spread it with her tongue. When she was satisfied that she had done a good job, she wrapped her lips around his shaft and began to move her head up and down, just the they did in the movies Kay Slaydon's parents didn't know Kay borrowed from them and showed at sleep-overs.

"Candice ... darling ... that feels so good ... come to bed..."

She slowed to a halt.

She could stop, get up, walk away and go to bed, or she could fulfill her daddy's needs, and her own as well. She should walk away.

No! She was tired of having half the life! Sharing the work and the toil and the love but not each other's bodies, not each other's souls ... she was tired of being a cardboard stand-in for her mother. She was either going to step into her place completely, with all the duties and all of the privileges as well, or she was going to leave, move away, go anywhere else!

As she slipped her overall straps off her shoulders and they fell to the floor, she knew she wasn't leaving.

She kicked off her shoes, slipped her panties off, pulled off her blouse and ripped a hook stripping off her bra.

She moved to the head of the bed and whispered in his ear.

"Dan, you need to move over, give me some room."

"Sure thing honey" he grunted, shifting to the middle of the bed.

She sat on the edge and closed her eyes. All or nothing. Opening her eyes, she got on the bed on her knees, crawled to him and threw a leg over his hips. She felt the tip of his cock brushing the very ends of her pubic hair and she paused.

What about the pain? There was supposed to be pain when you lost your virginity. She didn't want her daddy's experience spoiled by her screaming. Well, she probably had nothing to worry about. Mrs. Karcher in 'Home & Family Living' class, what passed for 'Sex Ed', said that due to girls' athletics, most of their hymens didn't survive junior high.