Accidental Webcam
Copyright© 2007 by North Point
Chapter 12: Ours
Incest Sex Story: Chapter 12: Ours - Andy just wanted to say a quick hi to his daughter over the internet phone. Little did he know the shock he was about to get!
Caution: This Incest Sex Story contains strong sexual content, including Ma/Fa Consensual Drunk/Drugged Heterosexual Fiction Father Daughter Swinging Cream Pie Masturbation Oral Sex Sex Toys Voyeurism
*Act 1 – Arrival & Settling In*
The city was big enough to disappear into.
They arrived on a humid afternoon with a moving truck and two cars. The apartment was on the third floor of an older brick building, high enough that the street noise softened into a distant hum. It had tall windows, scuffed hardwood floors, and a kitchen that opened into the living room. It was smaller than the house Andy had lived in for years—narrower hallways, lower ceilings, less space to spread out—but it felt warmer somehow. Cozier. Most importantly, it held none of the old memories. No doorway where things had first shifted between them. No bedroom that still carried the weight of everything they had done in secret. This place was only theirs.
Amanda stood in the empty living room with her arms crossed, looking around while Andy tipped the movers. When the door finally closed behind the last stranger, the silence felt different from any silence they had shared before.
She turned to him.
“We’re really here.”
Andy set the last box down and crossed the room. He didn’t say anything at first. He just put his hands on her waist and kissed her, slow and thorough, the way he couldn’t in parking lots or hotel hallways anymore. When he pulled back, his forehead rested against hers.
“We’re really here,” he repeated.
They didn’t unpack that night. They ordered takeout, ate it sitting on the floor with their backs against the bare wall, and then Andy took her right there on the living room floor, the city lights coming in through the uncovered windows. She came with her nails in his shoulders and his name in her mouth—his real name, the one she only used when no one else could hear.
The first week was all cardboard boxes and sore muscles.
Andy’s remote job made the transition easier than it could have been. He set up his laptop on the small desk by the window and kept roughly the same hours he had before. The difference was that now, when he finished a call, Amanda was usually only a room away. Sometimes she would wander in wearing one of his shirts and sit on the edge of the desk while he worked, swinging her legs, until he gave up and pulled her into his lap.
They fell into small routines without talking about them. Amanda made coffee in the morning while Andy showered. He started taking the trash out without being asked. She claimed the left side of the closet. He claimed the side of the bed closest to the door. At night they slept naked more often than not, the air conditioning humming, the city breathing outside.
One evening Amanda came out of the bathroom wearing one of his old t-shirts and nothing else. She climbed into his lap on the couch while he was trying to finish a report. He gave up on the laptop within thirty seconds. She rode him slow, hands on his shoulders, watching his face the whole time. When she came she leaned down and bit the side of his neck, hard enough to leave a mark he would have to explain if anyone ever saw it.
“I like this,” she whispered against his skin afterward. “Coming home to you. Not having to leave.”
Andy’s hands slid up under the t-shirt and settled on her bare back.
“I like it too.”
They fucked a lot that first month.
In the shower. Against the kitchen counter. On the washing machine during the spin cycle. Once on the narrow balcony after dark, Amanda’s back against the railing, the risk of someone looking up from the street making her clench around him harder. The novelty of having a whole apartment that belonged to both of them made everything feel sharper. There was no parent’s house to sneak around in, no dorm roommate to worry about, no clock counting down until she had to go back to campus.
Toward the end of the first month, Amanda started looking for work. She spent mornings at the kitchen table with her laptop, updating her résumé and scrolling through job listings while Andy took his calls in the other room. Sometimes she would read a posting out loud to him and ask what he thought. Other times she just sat with her feet in his lap while he worked, both of them quiet, the shared space feeling more real with every passing day.
One night they were in bed, sweaty and tangled, the sheet kicked down around their ankles. Amanda was half on top of him, tracing the line of his collarbone with one finger.
“It still feels a little like we’re getting away with something,” she said.
Andy huffed a quiet laugh. “We are.”
She smiled against his chest. “Good.”
Outside, a siren rose and fell somewhere in the distance. Inside, the apartment was quiet except for their breathing. For the first time in years, there was no departure date waiting for them. No suitcase by the door. No countdown.
Just the two of them, in a city that didn’t know their names, starting the rest of their life.
*Act 2 – Becoming a Couple in Public*
The building had the usual mix of people.
Young professionals, a few older residents, someone who practiced violin in the evenings, a couple with a dog that barked at every set of footsteps in the hallway. Most of them were polite and distant in the way city neighbors often were. One was not.
Her name was Carol. She lived across the hall, mid-fifties, the kind of woman who always seemed to be carrying groceries or checking her mail at the exact moment someone else opened their door. She had a sharp-eyed friendliness that made Amanda wary from the first week.
“So you’re the newlyweds,” Carol said one afternoon when they were both waiting for the elevator. Her gaze flicked between Andy’s face and Amanda’s, lingering a little too long on the difference in their ages. “How long have you two been married?”
“Not long,” Andy answered evenly.
Carol smiled. “Well, you make a handsome couple. Unusual, but handsome.”
The word unusual hung in the air just long enough to be deliberate. Amanda felt Andy’s hand settle lightly at the small of her back as the elevator doors opened. They rode down in silence. Later, in the apartment, Amanda locked the door behind them and let out a breath.
“She knows something’s off,” she said.
“She suspects,” Andy corrected. “That’s not the same thing.”
Still, after that day they were more careful in the hallway.
The near-slip happened on a Thursday evening.
They had gone out for dinner at a small place a few blocks away—nothing fancy, just good food and low lighting. Andy was in a rare playful mood. Somewhere between the main course and dessert he made an old dad joke, the kind that was so bad it circled back around to being funny. Amanda, relaxed and a little wine-warm, answered without thinking.
“Dad—”
The word came out soft but clear.
The server, who had been approaching to clear their plates, paused for half a second. Amanda’s eyes widened. She recovered fast, forcing a bright little laugh and waving a hand as if brushing the moment away.
“Sorry. Inside joke. He tells the worst jokes on purpose.”
Andy smiled easily, playing along. “It’s a character flaw.”
The server chuckled politely and moved on. The people at the next table didn’t even look up. But Amanda’s pulse was still elevated when they stepped outside into the warm night air.
They walked in silence for half a block before she spoke.
“That was close.”
“It was,” Andy said. His voice was calm, but when she glanced over she could see the tension in his jaw—and something hotter underneath it.