Chapter 10

What I got, of course, was not a flying fuck in hell ... rather, it was a flying fuck in heaven. Thanks to the talent for sexual ingenuity that seemed to run in the Martin family, plus the delightful experiences we had shared so plentifully since Daddy first picked me up, with neither of us knowing who the other was, in the restaurant of the Kernstown motel, we had the happy facility of being able to fuck perfectly naturally from whatever positions we found ourselves in when we got the impulse to unite our bodies.

Seated as we were, facing one another on the comfortable mattresses, we almost seemed to flow together. Daddy's arms gripped my slender waist and I lifted automatically, unlocking my ankles and spreading my legs wide as he pulled me onto his lap and extended his own lean, beautifully muscled lower limbs so that his loins were pushed forward and his sweet scimitar with the blunt, off-center tip, slid into my sweetly suffusing hole like a homing pigeon.

It was a perfect bulls eye as usual. In, in, in it went, in and upward, all the way with that excruciating pressure on the left side of my flooded tunnel of love, until its imperial head pushed past the flanges that guarded the gate of my womb and on into that ultimate organ of intimate delight.

Resting my arms atop his shoulders, with my hands clasped behind his neck, I used their purchase to lean backward slightly, wriggling and thrusting my cunt downward and ahead to render our union even more complete. When at last this perfect fusion of our fucking pieces was achieved, I tightened my grip around his neck so that my nipples, spiking outward from the fullnesses of my boobs, brushed the firm flesh of his chest.

Our lips met and merged, as did our tongues in a delicious tango, and for long, ineffably delirious moments, we remained absolutely still save for the lilting licks of our tongues inside each other's mouth. But such a stillness, unlike the stillness at Appomattox, could not endure for long.

Inevitably, my body thirsted for the thrill of crushing contact with this man I loved and lusted for beyond all other males ... my father, whose sperm, infiltrating his sister's womb, had spawned me. Out of such a union and such a birth, the incestuousness of our relationship seemed in no way a violation of any moral code. Rather, in its sheer magnificence of sensation, it seemed to transcend all mere man-made moral law and to approach the mightier truth of divinity ... "

Father and sister had spawned daughter-me-and now it was altogether fitting and proper that father and daughter should repeat their union behind the altar of the ancient god. As I hugged him close until the flesh of our torsos seemed to fuse, I perforce lost a little of the length of paternal prick in my sopping tunnel of delight ... so, fearful of losing that pillar of joy entirely, I not unnaturally tightened the muscles of my vagina wall to hold the rest of it in my juicing guts ... and this battening of my hatch as it were, brought on the full force of the hurricane....

As my breasts were smashed flat against his chest, I drove my cunt downward ... and darling Daddy drove his curved cock upward, seeking like me to retain full insertion in my reactivated hole. Result ... our hairs met with a liquid sound that was almost a splash, and then, with our union once more complete, we began grinding our fucking pieces around and around in one continuous thrust lest, by withdrawing even slightly, we should lose the delirious delight of being entirely at one with each other.

My cream flowed more heavily still until its slippery-stickiness glued our genital tissues together with little soppy sounds as our movements broke temporarily the surface tensions it established. As always, we moved like a single person, a realization of the hermaphroditic principle which should be the aim of all deep lovers, attaining a unity not merely of movement but of sensation as well. Daddy's cock and my cunt melted into a single organism and, it seemed to me, that I could feel not only my own flooding delight as orgasm claimed me but every sensation my father felt as well ...

Somehow, even through the overwhelming shocks that made a Chinese gong of my body, I knew that this was Nirvana and that it was vital to both of us to maintain it as long as possible. For the first time, while I was fucking and being fucked by darling Daddy, I could feel the rapport of our psyches as well as of our corporeal bodies. The flow of our delight was heightened by the extra-sensory perception we both shared, and, thus united, I could forestall each little movement of his prick that Daddy intended, just as he could sense what I wanted to do with my creaming cunt almost before I had thought of it.

When I felt the sudden trout-leap of his prick in my hole, instead of thrusting down on it and burying it deep and still in my womb during ejaculation, this time, I kept right on grinding my pussy around its base, if anything adding special fillips to our union of climaxes in an effort to lift our delight to an even higher plateau. As his seed spurted upward into me, however, I was forced to grab my father tightly and hold him close, close, close until, making a milking machine of my vagina, I had drained every last drop of his discharge from his lovely curving codpiece.

Still holding me as tight as I was holding him, Daddy rolled up over on our sides, so that we could rest during the aftermath such a dream-fucking entails without even the briefest of separations. We were both dreamily aware, of course, that we had achieved a towering perfection of pleasure in this encounter that we had never attained before ... not even during the most frantically sweet pieces of tail we had already so often enjoyed to the hilt.

I could not help whispering, as we lay there in a state of sublime stickiness induced by the merger of my pussyjuice and Daddy's sweet semen, "Has it ever been this great with anyone else, darling?"

I all but died of jealousy when he nodded and said, "Yes, divine daughter ... just once before."

"Who was it?" I had to ask, even though I dreaded to hear the answer. If it were Leona, I knew I was going to be miserable.

"It was with Edna ... your mother," he replied, and the relief I felt was so deep that I wriggled my bottom and experienced a delectable minor orgasm that had the brightness and swiftness of a shooting star.

Then curiosity overcame me again and I said, "If Mom was so great and you were so great together, why did she run away and marry Harry?"

Lying there on his side, facing me, darling Daddy thrust his marvelous curving cock slowly in and out of my still-juicing cunt a half-dozen times, causing with each stroke, a minor climax that might have put us on the road to another wild explosion had he continued to plumb the softnesses of my inner tissues. But we both sensed that it was not yet time for another so-terrific blaze of beauty, which might well have consumed us both, so he slowed and lessened his thrusts still further until, once more, we were deliciously at peace, with our bodies held sweetly and sweatily close, bosom to bosom and belly to belly and with our fucking pieces completely joined so that my labia were squashed flat against the tender flesh of his scrotum.

He said, "I think Edna's problem was the difference in our upbringing. Our parents separated while we were still very young, and I traveled with my father while my sister-your mother-remained at home with our mother. She absorbed so much of what they call 'old-fashioned religion' that I fear she will never get over it.

Mind you, I like Harry ... he's a free soul and he certainly gave you a fine bringing up, dear daughter ... in fact, I don't see how I could have done better myself."

"I wonder how they all are," I said in a sudden fit of homesickness for the family and town in which I had spent my first seventeen years.

"One of these days," said Daddy, "we'll find out, never fear."

"Poor Mom!" I said with a sigh. "It's hard for me to think of her as a sexpot. She always held herself aloof from the years of fucking the three of us kids enjoyed with Harry and each other. I'm sure she must have known what was going on ... but she always pretended she didn't."

Daddy smiled his marvelous half-smile and said, "I've thought more than once that there must have been some ostrich blood in the Martin line ... and that my poor sister inherited all of it. She has always had the faculty of burying her head in the sand when she didn't want to admit anything she decided was wrong. The only trouble with that, as far as Edna is concerned, lay in the fact that such a position left her rump high in the air and utterly unprotected. Every once in a while, her sex-drive would get the better of her, and she'd do something idiotic."

"Like fucking that preacher in Running Water ... and getting caught?" I said.

"That wasn't the first time," said darling Daddy. "Before that, Harry was always able to bail her out. But this last one was more than he could handle alone, so quite rightly he called on me for help."

"Thank goodness for that!" I said fervently. "If he hadn't, I might never have met my real daddy and known the most marvelous fucking in the world."

Daddy laughed softly and clasped me close to him again and our tongues resumed their dance of life, first inside my mouth, then in his, clinging and moving and darting and then separating, to renew their melting contact from a myriad of different angles and degrees.

Needless to say, such upstairs activity was not without reactions downstairs ... and, since we were horizontal already, he employed the simplest of all devices for fucking me ... in short, Daddy simply rolled me over on my back side and, mounting me, thrust his resurrected whang into my overripe twat and opened me up as if he were using an electric can-opener.

To abet our completeness of contact, he got a good grip on the underside of each of my thighs and, digging his fingers into that ultra-soft flesh just short of painfully, he spread my thighs flat out against the mattress at right angles to my plunging body, at the same time lifting my thrashing, soppy coozy so that he could run his dong in and out of its creaming depths just as he chose. As far as I was concerned, his choice was invariably the best.

Strangely, this time, we were man and woman in life combat. The fact that we were father and daughter provided an erotic rather than a psychic bond between our plunging envelopes of flesh. The inner rapport that had enabled us, during our marvelous earlier piece of tail, to anticipate each other perfectly was shut off as if an asbestos curtain had been dropped between us.

This time, we were engaged in the most exciting and rewarding of all human double-aggressions-the effort to fuck one another right into the mattress and through it if possible. Nor was I at all reluctant to surrender rapport for such sportive wrestling. The fusion of souls we had earlier achieved was close to being insupportable for mere mortals like ourselves ... now we needed the mutual reassurance that we were creatures of earth. It was a little as if, having tasted the nectar of divinity, we needed desperately to roll in the dirt from which we were born.

Yet, in this very earthiness, there was both compensation and delight. If Daddy drove his arching prick into my teeming, roiling sex-sapping cunt like a battering ram, my pussy responded like a hungry octopus anxious to ingest completely the massive meat thrusting in and out of its maw. I planted my feet wide apart and proceeded to put my deliciously aching cunt through a series of dance routines that made those of our meshed tongues seem like those taught in a small children's dancing class.

I drove the rounded beak of my pelvic fore-bone up into his loins and scrotum at least as vigorously as he jammed his dripping prick into its recesses ... time after time after time. How often I came I was never to know, since the climaxes swept over me like breaking waves on a rocky coast at the height of an August hurricane.

With a single violent assault, darling Daddy pushed me backward and off my self-made bridge at the upper end, then proceeded to lay his full flat belly down on me and all the time continued to jam, jam, jam his mighty mace in and out of my crazy, creaming cunt as though he were actually an embodiment of the god Pan-Priapus and I were some woodland nymph who had roused both his anger and his lust.

Continuing to crush my boobs with his hard-ribbed chest, he got his hands down to our plunging loins and, gripping me by both buttocks, once more assumed mastery of our revels. He was close to the end of his stamina, as I was all but played out myself, and I could tell, not by psychic rapport but from the beloved and familiar leap of the phallus buried in my softest flesh, that he was about to send another load of the old paternal sperm shooting into my already flooded womb, to come out along my vaginal tunnel until it blended with the sweat and pussyjuice already making a morass of my crotch.

I swung into high gear and managed to attain fulfillment just as the semen came spurting from the tip of his cock with its tiny orifice into the very depths of my seething being. For precious moments that seemed to endure forever but which, once it was over, were as fleeting as cobwebs in a high wind, we reached, by a very different route, the incredible heights of Nirvana in coitus.

We had attained divinity this time, not through our spirits but through our flesh. Hence it was the greater triumph for our incestuous union, even though it was far briefer. It was as if we had turned our backs voluntarily on heaven attained and regained its delights through the service entrance. Certainly, I thought mischievously as we came down from the stars slowly, no father and daughter deserved it more. No father and daughter could ever possibly have serviced one another to greater perfection.

When at last we were all the way back to earth and were enjoying the smoking of sweat-damp cigarettes, I said, "Darling Daddy, why don't you give Leona the swogging she craves? When Leona is unhappy, she wants everybody else to be as unhappy as she can make them. And, Daddy, she's very ingenious that way."

"If she weren't ingenious, she wouldn't be worthy of us," said Daddy, and I thrilled at his inclusion of myself in the word us.

Still, I was not entirely satisfied and said, "But, Daddy, we know what we've got. We can afford to be generous."

He tousled my still sweating head and smiled and said, "Robin, you're truly a noble spirit. What's more, I fear you may be right."

"Then why...? "

"Two reasons, darling," he said. "One, our revelations in this chapel this evening-yours and mine-suggest a need for revamping our program. Two, since we open at Springfield Thursday next, there simply is not going to be time."

Daddy regarded me thoughtfully for a long moment, saying, "Robin darling, have you ever felt with anyone else the ... the oneness ... you and I seem so miraculously to have attained here tonight?"

"Never," I said. "Why? Is it important?"

"I thought better of you than to ask such an idiot question," he said with a note of reproach in his sonorously deep voice. "Of course, it's important. It means I can integrate a program I had to scrap when your mother fled the scene years ago."

"Why did Mom split, Daddy darling?"

He rubbed my tits lovingly, saying, "I can't say for sure. We had psychic rapport, but she lowered the curtain of her mind on me and I couldn't get through. My hunch is that she began to have visions of little horned devils prodding her with their pronged pitchforks."

"That's Mom," I said with a sigh. "Always the born masochist."

He sighed, saying, "You may be right, darling

Robin ... but we have things to do. Come on!" He ground out both our cigarettes and helped me to my feet. We kissed, but our bodies were both so crusted and sticky with the dried and caked fluids that had emanated from them during our sweet and strenuous sex sessions that we gave up the attempt at an encore quickly if ruefully.

"We'll use Jake's bath before we love again," he said, opening the chapel door for me and carefully turning out the lights inside before walking back to the fine old main house with me in the moonlight. For a moment, as the soft night air caressed my flesh, I looked up at the golden crescent in the wine-dark sky and, with the grass pressing the soles of my feet and my body naked to the night, I felt a faint stir of the primeval impulses deep within me that had inspired my vision of times long gone while I was riding the dildo of Pan-Priapus back in the chapel.

Was I reincarnated, born only to pursued and caught by goatish half-men and centaurs who rolled me on banks of moss and fallen leaves beside the clear streams of ancient empires? At that moment, so deep was the feeling of the past within me that I could not have given a definite answer...

I felt darling Daddy's touch, gentle but insistent as he cupped his hand over my rump cheeks and diddled my cleft from the rear with his middle finger. I relaxed and returned to the here-and-now without regret ... for a world without tubs and mattresses was not a world for me.

With the prescience of his understanding of my psyche, he said, "Lost in the mists of time, my dearest?"

"Something like that," I murmured, grateful for his near-magical understanding. "The moonlight does something to me."

"Ah, yes ... the Mother Goddess who ruled the world in woman's name until the triumph of Apollo, god of the Sun," he said ... and though it was Greek to me, I understood.

But I had had enough of magic and mysticism for a single evening. So I said, "The screwy part of it is that, until now, I preferred looking at a ceiling after dark instead of at the sky. Al fresco fucking-phooey!"

"You may find yourself changing in that regard," said Daddy.

I hugged his arm and got us again started toward the beautifully kept up old mansion that was Martin family headquarters and said, "I'm for Uncle Jake's sunken tub at the end of that mirror of eggs."

"Of course you've been there, Robin ... I forgot," said Daddy. At his suggestion, we slipped into the house by a back door and made our way to the second story by a rear stairway. I needed no psychic rapport with Daddy to understand his choice of route. Merely being a girl was enough to inform me without explanation that he wished to avoid the others, especially Leona, while he was doing whatever he planned to do with me during the remainder of that magic night.

Four nights in a row with Daddy ... I felt a thrill pass through me at the prospect, not merely at the prospect of the lush loving that lay ahead but that he had let the regular rotation of nights with his daughters go hang in my favor for so long. It was something a girl could treasure proudly. Four nights in a row with her father against competition of the quality offered so readily by Donna and Leona and Jill ...

Uncle Jake's door was locked, but there was a trick to opening it and Daddy knew it. Leaning close to the knob side of the entrance, he whispered something in singsong tones and then opened it without trouble.

We were afraid Uncle Jake might be asleep, but we should have known better. He was busily punching his thick, short prick in and out of her blue-lipped mouth while he held his head actively, buried in her wildly gyrating crotch. Uncle Jake and my coal-black sister were evidently having a ball on Route Sixty-nine...