Don Bradley was a man who was not afraid to accept his moral responsibilities, even if it meant that he had to compromise on some of his principles. When his daughter, fourteen year-old Della, had come to him in tears after a Saturday afternoon outing with friends, he'd known what he had to do.

Della had been going through that transformation which changes young girls from innocent children to young women. Don wished her mother had been around to guide her through those changes, but Ellie had been dead four years from cancer. Fortunately, his sister, Celia, had stepped into the breach when only an older woman's counsel would do.

So, Della had coped with the physical changes she'd gone through, when her breasts had begun to fill into tennis-ball sized handfuls, topped with perky nipples, and her hips had broadened so that she now had an hour-glass figure to die for. But dealing with the emotional changes of her transformation, and the effects that transformation had on those around her, was not so easy.

She'd come home, that Saturday, with her lips clamped firmly together, determined not to cry. Don had seen at once there was something wrong.

'What's the matter, sweetheart?' he asked, drying his hands and leaving the washing-up in the sink. He came to her side and took her hand. 'Tell your dad what's wrong.'

'I think I need another talk with Aunt Celia, ' said Della.

His eyebrows had arched. 'Okay, no problem.' He brushed the long blond hairs which tended to fall across her face out of her eyes with a gentle finger. 'You're sure it's nothing I can help with?'

She frowned. 'I don't know. You're a man, and it's a man — well, Ronnie Sewell — I've been with.'

Don's eyes widened. 'Been with? With Ronnie Sewell? You've been with him?'

She smiled and giggled. 'Not like that!' she said. 'We haven't had sex or anything.'

Don blew out his cheeks, relieved. 'Well, I'm glad about that, ' he said.

She put her head on one side. 'Why? Don't you like him?'

Ronnie Sewell was fifteen, Don knew, and apart from the fact that he seemed physically fit, and polite whenever Don had spoken with him, he knew little about the boy. He said as much to Della.

'Well, why should you be glad he and I haven't had sex? Is it me that you think isn't old enough, or something?'

'Well, that's true, sweetheart. You're not old enough to consent to sex legally. No, I just don't think Ronnie would be the right boy to be your first ... lover.'

As he spoke, she glanced down and he realised her nearness, the sweet scent of her, and the thought of her having sex — to say nothing of the halter-top and short skirt she was wearing — had conspired to make the blood rush to his cock. He had a boner which tented his trousers, and Della was staring at it with wide eyes.

He turned away from her at once and headed for the door to the hallway. 'Sorry, Della, I've just got to go to the bathroom, ' he said, rushing out of the kitchen and leaving her staring after him with some surprise and a glimmer of understanding in her eyes.

Wow! she thought, I wonder what brought that on? An hour earlier, she had seen Ronnie's trousers tent up, and when he'd undone them, while sliding one hand up her skirt, his cock had sprung out all red and angry-looking, nodding at her. She'd felt her pussy turn liquid at the sight, and noticed the odours of their sudden arousal. The embarrassment this had caused her had been responsible for her cutting short her afternoon and returning home. The saddle of her bicycle had rubbed against the moist spot of her panties all the way and nearly caused an accident when she suddenly felt her insides turn over and heat spread through her body.

She was suddenly aware of the scent of arousal again, and with Don out of the room, she knew it was her own. Her pussy moistened more. At the same time, she wondered what her father was doing in the bathroom — there was an absence of the usual noises — and she made her way upstairs to see. She had no firm plan, but a growing curiosity drove her on.

Don stood in the bathroom, trousers round his ankles and his cock in his hand. His eyes were closed, and as he stroked his erection, he kept the image of Della in his mind. Imagining what she looked like under the halter top, under her skirt, and without her panties had him quickly reaching for his release.

She opened the door and walked into the bathroom. 'Dad?'

Don's eyes jerked open and he bent to drag his trousers up. Della had come to a halt, her gaze fixed on his long cock. He turned away from her so wasn't sure whether she'd seen his nakedness.

'Ooh! Sorry, Dad, ' she said.

'You could have knocked, ' he said, 'but I'm sorry you saw me ... like, er, this.' He turned back to her, his trousers refastened, but his boner still massively evident.

He'd been so near to cumming, the head of his cock was purple and swollen. Another couple of strokes and he would have spurted his baby batter into the toilet bowl. His purpose frustrated, his balls ached and his cock strained with unsatisfied need.

Della was darting glances at the tent in his trousers and daring to suppose that she was, at least to some extent, responsible for it. Her pussy was squeezing itself and her panties were definitely soaking. She wanted to press against her labia with her hand but didn't quite dare. Almost without thinking about it, Della stepped closer.

'Do you mind ... if I touch it?' she asked. Without waiting for an answer, she reached out and touched the swollen head of Don's throbbing cock through the thin material of his trousers.

'Aaahhh!' he groaned.

She glanced at his face in the mirror. 'Are you okay?' she asked again.

He groaned again, incomprehensibly, but as he did nothing to remove her questing fingers, she took it that he was happy for her to continue.

'Della!' he moaned.

'Yes, Dad?'

'If you touch me there again, I'll have an ... accident.'

'Will you?' she asked, sounding more enthused than he would have expected.

'Yes ... Just let go — please!' He sounded desperate.

Della released him, and looked up into his face, now red with a mixture of heat, lust and embarrassment.

'I want to see it, Dad. Let's go into the bedroom and you can show it to me.'

Don's brain had almost shut down. He scarcely knew what he was doing. Obediently, he followed his daughter into his bedroom and let her push him down onto the bed, until he was lying with his head on the pillow and his feet off the side. She knelt beside him and unzipped his trousers.

'Della, we shouldn't be doing this!' he groaned, but he didn't stop her as she unfastened the belt of his trousers and tugged them clear of his briefs. They were becoming soggy with the constant stream of pre-cum oozing from the tip of his cock. She took a moment to sniff her fingers, before gently clasping his shaft in her slender fingers.

Don found some remnant of sanity. 'Della, Della! We can't ... you must let go. It's not right! I'm your father!'

She smiled at him and slowly jacked him. The breath rasped in his throat.

He tried again. 'Della! I'm serious. If anyone found out what we've done already, I could go to jail.'

He reached down and gripped her sticky fingers, removing them from his throbbing penis.

'Please!' he begged.

Della sighed and released him. 'Okay, Dad, ' she said, 'but don't think this is the last time we do this. Look at me!'

She reached down and lifted the hem of her skirt with one hand, using the other to tug her soaked panties down her legs. Her juices had wetted her thighs and they glistened. Her pussy hairs were beaded with tiny droplets of her lubricant.

Don saw and his cock throbbed again.

He so desperately wanted to grab her and stuff his overheated cock into her dripping virginal opening, but he knew it would be wrong. Della would hate him once the clouds of lust had cleared from her eyes and mind, and he couldn't live with himself if that were to be the case.

'I want — no! I need! — something done about that, ' she said, and he realised she was panting. She kicked off her panties and pressed her fingers onto her mound. 'Won't you do something about it now?' she asked plaintively.

He groaned again. 'Della, my love ... You don't know what you're asking.'

She smiled, a little uncertainly. 'I thought I did. I thought I made it clear that what I want is for you to rub me, down ... down there, ' she said softly.

He stared at her crotch until she dropped her skirt and bent to pick up her panties. Then with a smile, she retreated from Don's bedroom.

'Later, Dad, ' she said as she closed the door.

Don grabbed his cock as soon as she was gone, and with his head full of the sight of his daughter's shapely legs and thighs, and especially the juices glinting on them, it took him only a few strokes to cause his sperm to rise. He grabbed a tissue from the box he kept handy for the purpose and filled it with his creamy seed.

The image in Della's mind when she reached her room and lay back on her bed, was of her father's huge boner, oozing white stuff and throbbing while she watched it. She pulled her skirt up and covered her mound with three fingers, rubbing in little circles, and all the time allowing her fingers to creep nearer and nearer her vaginal opening. Her long middle finger eventually notched in her and she experimentally pushed it into her pussy. Electricity flashed along nerves between her pussy and her breasts, and she began teasing her nipples with her other hand.

It was not the first time she had diddled herself to an orgasm, but it was definitely the best, boosted on this occasion by the recollection of the sights, sounds and smells of her father's arousal. Plus, there was something dizzyingly exciting about the forbidden nature of such lust. One thing was certain: she couldn't talk to her Aunt Celia about wanting to have sex with her father. And there was no doubt in her mind that she did.

Her pussy squirmed round her invading finger as she realised this and another bed-rocking climax ripped through her. She moaned with the unbearable pleasure of it.

Don had crawled off his bed and thrown the soggy facial tissue, soaked with his massive spend, into the bin. He pulled his briefs and trousers back on and worried about what his daughter would say when he got downstairs, which was where he expected her to be.

But as he passed the door to her bedroom, he heard a moan.

Pushing the door open quietly, he found himself staring at the bed, past his daughter's spread-apart legs to where her fingers were jamming into her pussy and her hips bouncing on the mattress. It seemed she was experiencing a series of orgasms, and the moans were of pleasure. The sight and smell of her brought his cock to attention.

Without thinking about it, he groaned.