I ran my tongue between the lips of her sex, its roughness grating along her valley floor, hot and wanting. I heard her gasp as her nubbin felt my tongue and then again as my fingers pushed inside her, pressing as deep as they could, spare fingers lying across her perineum, pressing at her sphincter, pushing, and entering.

“Yes, Dad, yes,” she gasped as I rocked my fingers in and out of her fanny and her arse, feeling the bumps and ridges inside her, a nail scratching at her G spot, her hips lifting, her fanny tightening.

I let my fingers slide out of her, and I stood up, my baby girl lying beneath me, her breasts mesmerising, her fanny lips apart, open, wanting. I threw my discarded polo shirt over my shoulders onto the floor; it was just a distraction. I pushed my underwear down, my dick hard and jutting, wanting, needing to bury itself in her hot flesh.

She looked up at me, eyes wide, mouth open, lips pursed, her breath panting in anticipation. I dropped quickly above her, breaking my fall with my hands, my dick crashing against her stomach before I steadied myself. I reached down and guided my dick to her hot hole and pressed in quickly; this was lust more than love, and my foreskin rolled back as my dick penetrated her to my balls.

“Oh fuck, Dad, shit,” she gasped as I filled her, her lust equal to mine, her hands gripping my shoulders. “Oh, fuck my cunt now,” she gasped, such language unheard of from Lana before.

I settled, lowering myself, my arms crooked at the elbows I was just above her, my eyes bored into hers, and I flexed my hips, my dick pistoning in and out of her, her face convulsing as I moved inside her. I went fast, pressing deep, moving my hips back and forth, stretching her opening as much as I stretched her fanny. She was gulping in air as she held onto me.

“Fuck yes, Dad; fuck me, yes.”

I wasn’t going to stop; I went faster and harder, knowing I wouldn’t damage, but I wasn’t going to stop even if I did. There was no stopping now; it was not possible. My dick had taken charge. Her fanny was contracting and twitching, pulsing on my dick; I hardly noticed, my balls were tightening, and my buttocks were clenching. With a roar I filled her, spurt after spurt flooding her womb and overflowing her fanny. I rolled to one side, my dick dribbling white across her shoulder, still hard but momentarily spent.

In the other chamber I could still hear the sounds of her brother and my wife, their mother, shagging. The slap of skins colliding, the gasps as a dick is pressed in hard, and the grunts of exertion. I guessed we had sounded the same, Lana and I.

As I lay on my back, the exertions of a few minutes ago having taken the toll briefly, my mind went back to a few days ago and a family afternoon meal ruined when all our mobile phones went off on the emergency alert. “Attack Imminent: Take Shelter.”

We grabbed our phones and rushed to the study and pushed aside the hinged bookshelf and made our way down to the shelter. An Atlas double-chambered shelter that I had installed a few years ago, just in case, but somewhere to store my wine I had joked.

I pulled the bookcase too behind us and then closed the blast door, spinning the handle and locking it down. No one could get in. I followed the others down, shutting and locking the mudroom door behind us and then into the main chamber, again shutting the door behind us. We were sealed in, sixty feet below ground, in our own double 80x40 shelter. Whatever happened out there wouldn’t affect us in here.

I turned on the scanner, and it locked on to the Emergency Broadcast Service, run by the BBC but not under their name. Things had escalated over the past twenty-four hours. Not content with trying to erase Hamas in Palestine, Israel had attacked Hezbollah in Lebanon; this had prompted every Arab nation to fire their weapons at Jerusalem. Israel had responded by nuking Tehran, and then all hell broke loose: Russia and China posturing against the West, India threatening Pakistan with retaliation – retaliation for what no one really knew, America saying, ‘Don’t you dare, or we will,’ and then suddenly the UK was the target for having created Israel in the first place.

Asians in the streets started rioting, attacking infrastructures, and torching police; the army got involved, and it was just a mess. It was only a matter of time. I thought that rather than take on America, Russia would launch against the UK. We were isolated on an island; no one would miss us, but attacking us would stop a NATO response, as the next step would be the rest of Europe. We were indeed a target.

We took our watches off, placed them and our phones and iPads in an earthed metal box. Everything electrical was grounded and turned off. We sat with just battery-powered lights, worrying what would happen.

There was a sort of thump, a percussion perhaps, no sound, just the feeling.

“What was that?” Mik, my son, asked, “A nuke?”

“Could be,” I answered. “I just hope not.”

“I’m scared,” Lana said.

“We are safe here,” Mica said, trying to reassure the twins.

“But my friends are not Mum; they don’t have a bomb shelter to hide in.”

“No, baby, some of them don’t, and there is nothing we can do for them, is there, Paul?” she said, addressing me.

“No. I never expected us to need this, but we have it, and we are safe. Nothing we can do, everyone; let’s just lie on our beds and give it a while and then we will see if there is any news.”

Lana and Mik went into the other chamber; they each had a room there, and Mica and I went down to the end of this chamber to our bedroom. It was warm down here in the chamber, a steady twenty degrees. I stripped off my top and shorts and just lay on the bed in my boxers. Mica likewise stripped to her underwear, and we lay together cuddling, whilst who knew what happened sixty feet up in the outside world?

As always, when I embrace Mica, my dick hardened and pressed into her.