Seducing Katie

by cindysbob

Copyright© 2009 by cindysbob

Erotica Sex Story: a hotel room, my innocent teenage daughter, a king-sized bed

Caution: This Erotica Sex Story contains strong sexual content, including Ma/Fa   Ma/ft   Consensual   Incest   Father   Daughter   First   .

[As always, your votes and comments are much appreciated, and don't forget to check out my other submissions]

"Have I ever told you how much I used to absolutely loath New Years Eve?" Teri giggled, taking a near stumble as she stood out of the car.

"Just every December 31st," I parried playfully, reaching out to gently catch her about the waist. She was fairly well swanked on Patron margaritas and the Moet the Tom and Lisa had been toasting with at their bash. " ... You do seem to have gotten over your aversion though."

"Completely," Teri chortled, her eyelids sagging contentedly as I carefully led her out of the garage and into our kitchen. I heard the television playing, a pall of bluish fog filling the living room, some shrill techno dance beat screeching through the house.

"Katie, we're home," I hollered.

"Hi, Daddy," came the distracted response.

"Ask Sister Katherine Anne if she had a good time?" Teri whispered cattily in my ear, nuzzling her nose into the crook of my neck. I shushed her quietly, holding her arm as I shepherded her across the room, feeling the wobbliness in her gait—dodging back a bit as she amorously teased her fingers across the front of my trousers. " ... Go on, ask her if she got lucky."

"Down a little," I spoke up, seeing my daughter sprawled across the new leather recliner and motioning for her to edge the volume to a more humane level.

" ... How was your night?" she asked, straightening up a bit as she thumbed the remote.


"It was great!" Teri burbled with a pleasantly inebriated slur. "And how was yours?"

"Just stayed around like I told you."

"Oh, you just need a good boyfriend, is what you need," my wife answered, skewering a playful finger in our daughter's general vicinity as she plopped herself back onto the couch.

Katie dredged up an uncomfortable smile but didn't say anything back. I settled down next to Teri and glanced at the television—ecstasy-ripped kids gyrating on an open-air stage over what had to be Times Square.

"So was it quiet around here?" I spoke up finally.

"Don't go changing the subject," Teri chided with feigned outrage, a wide grin splayed across her silken red lips—she was feeling no pain whatsoever.


"You are too beautiful a girl..." she went on, turning back to Katie, numbly faltering over her own words.

"A very, very beautiful girl," I cut in, waggling an eyebrow as I spoke, feeling for my little girl as she shifted uneasily on the tines of her mother's gaze.

"Too beautiful to be sitting home alone on..."

"Mom, I'm..."

Inwardly I cringed, knowing that this was how it always got started with these two, Teri pushing her on some point, Kate getting prickly and hurt, saying something back and then...

"You just need to show off the goods a bit, kiddo," my wife said with a taunting giggle, sashaying a bit as she leaned forward and naughtily set her breasts swaying in that low-cut black dress.

"Ughh," Katie sounded under her breath, reaching down to switch channels, as if just for something to divert her mother off this particular tangent—Jackie Gleason suddenly prancing across the screen in some ancient Honeymooners rerun.

"Go 'Ugh-ugh' all you want, but this is how you have to get 'em interested, girlie. A little wiggle here an' a little waggle there." Teri smirked at me, unconsciously trailing her tongue over her upper lip—"Go on, tell her I'm right."

"I'll tell her I think it's time we go to bed," I offered judiciously.

"And when that doesn't do it, then you'll just have to get a bit more impetuous," Teri whispered conspiratorially across to her, her hand snaking right onto my lap, making me instinctively pull away from those marvelously expressive fingers. " ... See."

I gently clasped Teri's wrist and glanced over at my daughter—she was shaking her head, hands over her eyes, as if absolutely mortified by it all.

"Time for bed," I repeated, easing my wife up off the sofa, realizing too late that she'd worked her usual magic and gotten me completely hard, the front of my trousers embarrassingly tented. I angled away from Katie, but was sure she'd probably seen it.

"Time for bed," Teri mimed, a pleased expression as she glanced down to my crotch.

"Good night," Katie muttered, still tossing her head a bit, still averting her eyes from us as we edged out of the room.

"Night, babe," I answered.

" ... I'm getting lucky," Teri teased in a bright sing-song voice, loud enough to make sure our daughter caught every word. "I'm a getting lucky."


"You protect her too much, you know that?" Teri was muttering as she stood in front of the dresser taking off her earrings.

"I just didn't want another argument," I answered softly, dropping my shirt into the hamper.

"She needs to get out there and date. Have some fun for god's sake!"

"I know what you're saying, but she's young, she has lots of time."

"Oh, come on," my wife scoffed dismissively. "You know Daddy is just dreading the day when some horned-out kid gets to..."

"Let's not talk about this, okay," I said, offering a mollifying smile.

"I don't know," Teri answered teasingly, deftly peeling the black dress down her body as she stood across from me. As always I felt my heart skip a beat as I watched her disrobe, the lacy black brassiere, the black panties cut high on her slender thighs, the nylons bunching as she eased them down past her ankles, all creamy flesh now, her breasts still fairly firm and pert, the nipples small and dark, the perfectly symmetrical tuft of darkish hair at her mound.

"So..." she whispered seductively, coming up to stand before me, her painted fingernails trailing over my bare chest, finding the buckle of my belt, a directness that always thrilled me as she deftly opened my trousers, my cock springing to a well-earned freedom like a crazed convict just out on parole.

"So?" I answered huskily, her feathered attention to my shaft maddening, the silky caress of her palm over my tightened scrotum, a delicious, breath-catching scrape of nails across the nerve-rich patch of flesh just to south thereof.

"So how long's it been since you fucked the brains out of a drunk girl?" she purred.

"I think ... um, what day is it today?"

She gripped my balls bringing me up to my tippy-toes, her eyes dancing lustily: " ... I'd answer very carefully?"

"I just remembered," I replied in a shrill falsetto that made her giggle again. " ... Seems like it was a year ago to the day—and oddly enough, she looked a lot like you."

"Did you make her suck on that big cock of yours?" my wife whispered through clenched teeth, shoving me back across our bed, pants tangled down around my feet.

"I seem to recall that she didn't need all that much encouragement."

" ... Really?" Teri murmured as she slid catlike up the length my body, straddling me, a dull echoing as she mouthed up along my throat and over my ear, a faint mist of lightly perfumed perspiration clinging to her skin—holding my gaze as she kissed down the center of my sternum, slowly toying the nipple of her right breast along the underside of my cock. She came back up with her lips, swallowing nearly my entire shaft with a single daring bob of her head, lolling now, still silently studying my face through the curtain of her dark hair, the lush wetness of sloshing saliva, a swirling her tongue—coming up off me after a moment with a deliberate scrape of teeth.

"Was that how she did it?"

I couldn't answer save for a numbed grin.

Teri gripped my glistening cock and positioned her face over it again, her eyes glinting with that wanton craziness that would seize her from time to time.

"See, this is exactly what that daughter of ours ought to be doing," she smirked, flicking her tongue over the thick spongy head

"Just keep doing what you were doing." I said too quickly, wanting that sweet mouth on me again—and definitely not wanting to talk about our Katie while I was watching her nude mother perform a truly expert act of fellatio upon me.

"I'm serious," she grinned, sensuously sliding her hand up and down cock now, kissing away a bright bead of semen as it formed. " ... Don't you think she'd be so much happier if she was down on her knees with one of these in her pretty face?"


"I should call her in and let her watch, is what I should do," my wife went on wickedly, still ministering to me, suddenly using her mouth again, suctioning on me hard, easing off as I started bucking my hips off the mattress. " ... Would that be okay?"

Again I couldn't answer—couldn't utter a coherent sentence if my life depended upon it.

"I could just have her sit right there on the edge of the bed and she..."

"Don't stop," I wheezed, setting a palm to the back of her head, only to have her playfully toss it off.

" ... Look how big we're getting. You're thinking about her watching, aren't you?"

"Please just keep going," I heard myself say.

"No, you have to answer first," she scolded, wagging a finger up at me. " ... Wouldn't you just love having our tight-assed princess in here watching me suck your cock? ... I can teach her some of my patented blow-job tricks."

I couldn't even laugh, the blood audibly whooshing through my skull—my wife could tell she was getting to me now, just like just she always did with her racy bantering. This though was an incomprehensibly new twist—something so wrong I could fucking taste it.

"If you wanted, I could maybe even let her try it out with you. You wouldn't mind that a bit, would you?" Teri was down on me again, sucking my cock with carnal abandon—again bobbing up off me just as I felt the first stirrings of climax, a delicate thread of spittle clinging to her chin as she went on: "I think she'd like sucking your cock. I really do ... Would you want her to undress first?"

" ... Yeah," I heard myself reply in a husked tone—Teri let the smile on her face spread, a rabid glint in her dark brown eyes.

"She has a great set of tits that daughter of ours," she whispered, crawling up so that she was lying atop me, our faces a scant inch apart. "I saw them last summer when we were at the shore ... They're bigger than mine, a lot bigger."

I reached to kiss her, but she lifted away, our lips barely brushing.

"Nipples are big as silver dollars," she went on, circling her thumb and forefinger together in a rough approximation of Kate's areola. " ... You know she'd probably love for you suck on 'em ... I wanted to suck on them myself, I did. I really imagined myself just gnawing down on one of... !"

I grasped her head in my hands and pulled her down to me, kissing her hard, teeth clinking away on each other, that fleeting pulse of tongue as she struggled free of my grip, eyelids clamping as my cock inadvertently found the warm curve of her vulva.

Teri reached down between us and threaded me into her sodden crevice, a strangled gasp as she lowered her pelvis fully onto it. I watched my wife lift herself up so that she was astraddle my waist, her tits bouncing as she started to ride it, both hands splayed on my chest for support, the quickening in her breath as she gyrated down on it.

"Am I doing it ... am I doing it right, Dad?" she murmured with practiced innocence, the invitation implicit in her glazed eyes.

"Yeah, baby." I moaned, reaching up to lightly pinch a nipple, rolling it between my thumb and finger. "That's how you do it, that's how you do it."



"Oh, Daddy..."

I felt the walls of her vagina clench as the orgasm struck, a squeal of pleasure as she frantically bucked away on my pole, breasts swaying crazily, the cords of her neck taut, eyes quivering beneath her clamped lids...

"Daddy..." she keened desperately, over and over again until the sound petered to a near wordless bleating.

I stifled a scream as I started to spurt inside her, grappling onto her soft hips and pummeling her down onto me with a final savage heave, fiercely grinding our bodies together until it was completely spent—a stunned instant of recognition as our eyes met and then the enveloping blackness of sleep...


I came awake with a start, daylight pouring through the high windows, a familiar whoosh of water—Teri's humming a tune I couldn't quite place. I rolled out of bed, sitting at the edge of the mattress for a long minute, shaking the haze from my brain. It had been one of those physically draining sleeps—narcotized, fucking lobotomized; opening my eyes sometime afterward, the lights still on, my wife deflated atop me, snoring softly, her face on my chest in a puddle of drool, my cock shriveled out of her. As gently as I could, I'd rolled her off me and lay there alongside of her, instantly drifting off again, vivid snippets of dreams jarring me up to consciousness, feverish bursts of color, a young girl's weeping, strained indecipherable words...

"Fuck," I muttered aloud, flashing back to the one I'd just woken to, the fucker almost ruining me. I tossed my head again and stepped into the bathroom.

The bathroom was thick with steam—I wiped a circle of mirror and yawned at my reflection. What a bent fucking pervert, I reflected darkly, the previous evening's high jinks catching me like a sucker punch in the sober light of a new day, the first fucking day of a new year.

I picked up the Listerine and swigged right from the bottle, sloshing it around my mouth till the burn cleared my mind.

"Hey," I said, pulling the curtain back a bit, amused when Teri tried to hide herself. I blew a kiss at her and she stuck out her tongue in response, yanking the curtain shut. I listened to her washing, picking up her humming again—what in the hell was that song anyway?

"I'm never imbibing again," she announced.

"I think I'll join you in the temperance pledge," I answered, leaning close to the mirror and examining my tongue as I heard the water shut off.

"I'm serious," Teri went on, opening the curtain and plucking up her towel. I turned to look at her in the mist—she was drying herself unconsciously as I watched, grinning as she felt my attention.

"Well, I know we fucked," she grinned mischievously. "But I don't remember all that much else about the evening's events."

" ... You didn't wear a lampshade."

"Well that's a positive ... It was you I fucked, wasn't it?"

"I think I was in line there somewhere?"

Teri came up to me, towel turbaned around her wet hair, an almost chaste peck on my lips.

"Well, I probably enjoyed you the most, just like always," she said, looking down at my hardening member. " ... Uh, uh, buster, not today, even my jaw is sore from last night."

"Oh, I think you could be persuaded," I laughed.

"Uh-uh," she said with a wry shake of her head, fixed in place in the doorway. " ... But don't worry, I'll just tag off on Katie"—a casual mocking tone, eyes wide with her best 'gotcha' look—"send our little Mother Superior right upstairs to suck that baby dry."

I stared at the closed door for several seconds, noting the peel of debauched laughter from the opposite side, too much to ask that she would've gotten amnesia as to that particularly delectable factoid.

I got in the shower, savoring the sting of the water on my face. The dream that had jarred me awake doing another involuntary replay in my mind—our cottage at the lake, early morning, treading water, watching as my daughter slowly made her way down the steep path.

I glanced down at my stiffened prick, hot in my lathered hand, stroking it methodically, back and forth, concentrating on the memory now—Katie standing on the dock, staring down at me, my asking where her mother was, her answer that she was still asleep, that faltering smile, a checkered halter-top knotted at her midriff—a get-up my girl wouldn't be caught dead in ever —her fingers wordlessly undoing the cinch, draping it back over her shoulders, a vision of lewdly sloping breasts, perfectly shaped youthful globes, nipples thick and hardened. Her hands sliding her denim cutoffs down along her perfectly muscled thighs—something else my Kate would never, ever, even try on, let alone don in public—that livid blush rising high on her cheeks...


I must've leapt six inches in the air, not having heard the bathroom door come open—or her knock, which I'm certain she'd done— cringing around towards the tiled wall as if she could somehow spy me through the shower curtain.

"What," I snapped in an overtly strained voice.

"Mom said you wanted me for something," came her voice, a bemused note, as if she'd supposed what I'd actually been doing in there, though most definitely not guessing at the object of my desire.

"I'll tell you later," I said, controlling the tremor in my tone, a deep breath to settle my libido, though my cock, trained dog that it is, remained ramrod straight.

"I'm going over to Karen's in a while."

"It isn't important," I said. " ... I'll take care of it."

I heard her sigh, the sound moving, following it in my mind, footfalls light on the damp tile floor. The commode lid dropping.

"I can go over later if you need me for something," she said—she was sitting down on it, just outside the curtain, a bored, dissolute air to her words.

"No, baby, just go ... have fun."

I took hold of my dick and deliberately resumed my stroking, slower now, still facing against the wall, the hot water blistering off my skin.

"You're sure?" she went on, another long sigh.

"Yeah," I said, closing my eyes and seeing her casually step off the dock, her body cutting the lake water perfectly, her breasts wondrously buoyant as she drifted into my arms...

" ... You're coming back for the Penn State game tonight?" I queried after a very long moment.


"Okay, we'll see you then, babe."


"Bye-bye," I muttered, listening carefully for the sound of the door closing ... coming into my arms so tentatively, the water very cold, our legs treading together, thickened nipples brushing against my bare chest, her lips barely contacting mine...

An animalistic wail as I came, semen splattering thickly off the blue porcelain, my legs sagging till I was literally down on my knees, grunting with each added spurt as I jacked away furiously—out of breath, wheezing like a three-pack a day Camel. I blinked several times, shook my head, opaque clots of semen whirling down the drain.

I closed my eyes and listened to the sound of my own ragged breathing—a curtain of fog drifting over my lakeside visage, shivering in the water now, letting Katie slip from my grasp, her beautiful eyes filling with tears as she angrily kicked away from me, her lower lip trembling with sadness and betrayal, shouting her name as she was steadily devoured within the bank of pale mist.


"That's it there," I said, pointing across the front seat of the Escalade just as the Cathedral of Learning came into view.

"It's pretty ugly," Katie grimaced, as she took in the massive stone-faced monolith.

"Wait till you go inside," I went on, turning my attention back to the snarled traffic on route 22. "No ventilation, all stale air. It's like the worst designed building in history of architecture."

"Wonderful," she replied, cocking an eyebrow at me as she settled back into her seat.

It was the last week in May, and it was baking out—only eleven in the morning and the Escalade's dash display was already reading 92° as an outside temp. We'd been on the road since five-thirty in the morning, hauling straight out with only one stop at a McDonald's for greasy egg-an'-sausage biscuits and orange juice.

"Watch for our exit," I said, seeing Katie lean in a bit to read the overhead signs. I glanced over at her once more. Her curly, fiery red mane was tied back so severely as to seem painful.

"It's the one right after this," she spoke up.

I nodded and flicked on my turn signal, easing the vehicle to the right hand lane. We were in Pittsburgh, for of all things, a historical research competition; a paper of Kate's having placed well enough in an advanced placement class as to warrant an invitation to present it orally at the university, a real feather in her cap academically speaking.

All three of us were originally slated to attend—a nice family weekend—but Teri had had to back out three weeks ago due to a scheduling conflict at her job, so it was just me and the kid solo. Driving into the city I had to admit that I was excited to be alone with my daughter for four days straight—not that I was consciously planning anything of a nefarious nature, nothing like that at all really. That wasn't to say, however, that I hadn't been toying with a whole lot of sexual fantasies with her bare flesh the featured centerpiece. If anything I'd have to confess to becoming quite obsessed with erotic scenarios involving my seduction of her. On some level, I was actually more than a bit unhinged over the whole deal.

I swung down the steep ramp at the Oakland exit, marveling at how readily the guilt had receded from my mind as regards these fantasies, as if I had willfully cauterized those precincts of my psyche where such crippling emotions dwelt.

Oh, and yes, my wife had made sure that the embers continued to glow warmly, always with a subtle yet aptly placed comment as to Kate's physical attributes, sporadically dredging up some sinfully hot bit of role-playing to spice up one of our frequent mating sessions—and yes, I did confess to that initial dream of the two of us down by the lake, which Teri mused would have had Dr. Freud himself stroking his cigar with a bit more Viennese gusto.

Still, it was a fantasy, and that was it. I wasn't some scrofulous old hillbilly out to pop little Daisy Mae's cherry down back in the woodshed. But our fantasies were safe—they allowed us the ease of living in differing worlds, worlds which we wouldn't otherwise ever wish to visit in reality. I had lots of fantasies over the years, most of which I would never have wanted to parlay into my present reality. Just some fun stuff, nothing more.


"The reservation was for a room with two queen beds," I repeated once more to the immaculately dressed woman at the registration desk, watching as she studied the flat monitor and issued a truly regretful shake of her perfectly coifed ivory hair.

"I'm sorry but it was specifically noted that your room was to have a king-sized bed," she said, pointing to the screen which of course I couldn't even see.

I closed my eyes and took a deep breath, holding it, grinding my teeth. —"specifically noted" spelled out one thing for me—I could see Teri at home busting a gut when she cooked up this insidious little gem. But it wasn't funny at all, no way; I looked across the lobby and spied my Katie perusing the hotel's pricey gift shop.

"And you can't..."

"I'm so sorry, but we are totally booked."

"Well, it is myself and my teenage daughter and I don't think..."

"I can try to find you a room at another facility, but with this..." she went on, again with that sad toss of her head as her words trailed off. She'd already checked off the litany of conferences and events besieging Pittsburgh on this particular weekend, that plus the fact that I'd seen at least three different welcome stations as we'd passed through the lobby, each for differing groups and tours ... Who in the fuck wanted to come to the paradise of Pittsburgh Pennsylvania for a fucking convention anyway, I reflected blackly, catching Kate's attention and eliciting a bright smile and a happy wave.

"Tell you what," I said, bringing a bright smile of my own to the surface. "Can you send a cot up for us, one of those foldaway beds?"

"Certainly," she answered perkily.

"Then that works out just dandy."

"And we are so..."

I waved the apology away, feeling much lighter as I slid the master card from my wallet.


"You can't sleep on this," Kate said emphatically, a slight press of her hand setting the foldaway into a dangerous creak.

"It'll be okay," I answered doubtfully, watching as she yanked back the sheets from the thin, suspiciously stained gray mattress beneath.

"You are not sleeping on this, no way," she went on.

"Well," I started, not sure of what I could say in defense of the dilapidated wreck of metal and sagging springs.

"It's king-sized," Katie went on, cutting off whatever it was she thought I was going to say and striding over to the huge bed at the room's center. She pressed her palms to the mattress—it sounded soft and comfortable, it actually did. " ... You have your half, and I have mine. Now don't be silly about it."


"Your half"—she rolled her eyes, slowing her words while increasing the volume, as one would for the infirm—"My half ... Okay?"

" ... Okay."

And from there the day took a decidedly upward trajectory; we registered at the student union for Katie's presentation, dined on hotdogs and French fries at the O, a Pitt staple that had my daughter's eyes widened with its greasy seediness and the vast amalgam of people filtering through the joint's front door. We wandered up to the CMU campus and back down through the park, both of us completely exhausted from our early start and the baking temps.

"Which side do you want?" Kate giggled as we got our suitcases unpacked.

"I don't really mind," I answered distractedly, going through my packed belongings again—no pajamas. Now I never wore them at home, but knowing that I'd be sharing a room with my girl, I had purposely bought a new pair. And I had put them inside the suitcase myself yesterday afternoon, but now they were MIA. I flipped through the clothes one more time, hearing Teri's teasing laughter echo through my brain.

"You forget something?"

"Your mother didn't pack my pajamas."

"Oh," she said, serious for a second and then grinning mischievously as she drew a palm across her face: " ... Promise I'll keep my eyes closed."

I shook my head and piled everything into a drawer. I looked back up at my daughter as she carefully laid her clothes in her selected drawer. Meticulous in this as in everything else, Kate placed things into a neat order, totally focused on the immediate task at hand. She was a very tall girl, over five-foot-eleven; watching her weight from when she was younger, probably one-thirty or so now, full-figured with a voluptuous curve to her hips, longish legs, an abundant bust that I could sense she was overly conscious of. Her taste in clothes gave lie to this, the high cut collars, the skirts cutting just above her strong ankles, her curly red hair tied back with such priggish determination. Not to say that there wasn't a sense of style to her, as there was, just a willful posturing to her physical self, a barrier to hold most at arm's length.

Her shoulders stiffened as if sensing my attention and I quickly said I was going to hop in the shower, crossing paths with her as I came out and she went in, climbing into my half of the king-sized bed clad in a tee shirt and blue boxers. I turned on the television and listened to the shower running, my dick coming to sudden life despite my fatigue—I bundled the comforter, glad for the air-conditioned chill in the room. A few surreptitious strokes until the water stopped, my penis staying hard on its own volition.

"I'm so beat," she said, a billow of steam about her. I'd clicked off all but the reading lamp at my side of the bed, seeing that she was decked out in a modest night gown that cut off high on her thigh. I became aware of my wandering gaze and looked away quickly.

"Me too," I muttered as she nonchalantly pulled back the sheets and comforter and crawled in across from me, leaning across to lightly peck at my cheek.

"Night," she said, the weighty feel of her breast against my arm for just an instant.

"Sleep good, got a busy day tomorrow," I answered, reaching across to kill the last light.

Tired as I was, I laid awake for most of an hour, riding as close to the edge of my half of the bed as humanly possible, hearing Kate's breathing settle and finally fall into a contented rhythm just shy of a snore. And finally I too was drifting, drifting...

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