Chapter 3
"You're very quiet, Tiffany."
Eliot took his eyes off the road for a moment to smile down at his daughter. She grinned back at him. "Just thinking," she said.
Yes, she was thinking all right. Ever since she had left the hotel, she had only one thought-she knew. At last she knew what fucking was all about-how to do it-what to do-and she had loved every second of the experience.
She pictured her father's prick sliding into her; she felt his arms embrace her; she felt the thrill almost as strongly as if it were actually happening. And that night she felt it would happen. She would fuck him. She would creep into Eliot's bed once more, only this time . . .
"You tired, maybe?"
Tiffany shook her head.
"You look like you are."
Axel laughed. "I'm tired," he confessed. "Hell, that was some rehearsal."
"And there'll be another tomorrow," said Eliot.
"Oh, come on," wailed Axel. "Tomorrow night's the concert."
"I'm quite aware of that, Axel. Which is the reason we're having the rehearsal." Eliot glanced quickly at the tired face of his son. "You've got a lot hanging on this appearance. I don't want you to blow it. You've got to be good, from the way you look to the way you walk, move, sing-perform. Everything has to be perfect. That's the only way you're going to make it, son."
"Shit." Axel stared out the car window gloomily. "I know you're right, Dad, but.. . "
"Nothing comes easy," continued Eliot. "And if you think you're going to make it to Vegas as a headliner, you've got to rehearse, and rehearse, and rehearse.. . " His voice trailed off. Then he laughed softly. "Anyway, at least you've got what it takes. I know that with the right handling, you'll be a star, Axel. Once you've made it you can relax a little. But 'til then . . . " He shrugged.
Axel roared. "Jesus. Now I've heard everything. I've got a square for a father."
"I may be square when it comes to rehearsing," replied Eliot calmly. "But you can't say I'm not just as up to date as you are in other things. Like sex, f r instance," he added with a twinkle in his eyes. "I know you and Sally are shacking, but I don't preach about that, do I?"
"It wouldn't do you any good if you did."
"I know. So I keep my mouth shut."
Tiffany stared up at Eliot impishly. "What's the difference when Axel has sex with Sally and you have it with Patricia?" she asked.
Eliot flushed. "Patricia and I are married," he said shortly, feeling a hot flush creep up his neckline.
"That doesn't mean anything," she replied dogmatically. "You were sleeping with her before you got married."
"Adults do things differently," Eliot replied awkwardly, wishing he hadn't brought up the subject. "You'll find that out when you're a little older, Tiffany."
"I'm old enough." Tiffany was about to continue when she felt Axel's knee against her own and, turning, she saw a warning glance in his eyes. "I mean-well, I mean I know what sex is all about, and I don't think you should have to wait if you don't want to. I bet you were having sex when you were my age."
"If I was, it didn't mean that it was right," snapped Eliot, suddenly becoming rather annoyed at the conversation. "And as far as I'm concerned, boys start earlier than girls. Besides, it doesn't make much difference to a boy. But with a girl, once she'd had it, she's-"
"She's had it," finished Tiffany, giggling suddenly. Turning to Axel, they burst into loud laughter. Eliot stared at them uncomprehendingly, then the infectious laughter sparked his own sense of humor, and he joined in.
"Well, at least we can laugh about it," he concluded.
"You're a gas," said Axel, nudging Tiffany, who dissolved into another hysterical outburst.
She was still laughing as the car turned into the wide driveway leading to the house.
The butler came into the library and stood respectfully at the door. "Will there be anything else, Mr. Cartwright?" he asked.
"No, that'll be all, thanks," said Eliot, glancing up from the papers on the desk. "Unless the kids want anything. Axel . . . Tiffany?" He glanced over at them inquiringly.
"Nothing for me," said Tiffany.
"Nope." Axel shook his head.
"Well, good night." The butler withdrew and Eliot sighed and stretched back in his chair. He grinned over at Axel.
"Tomorrow's the great day," he said. "How do you feel?"
Axel smiled confidently. "I'm gonna be great," he said. "But I won't be unless I get some sleep. I'm bushed."
"I think we all are. It's been a hectic day."
Eliot rose and began walking to the door.
Tiffany approached him, and put her arm around his waist. He smiled down at her. "How's my best girl?" he said. "You bushed, too."
"Sort of."
They ascended the stairs and Axel went to his room, and Eliot and Tiffany entered the master bedroom. "You finish with the bathroom and then I'm going to soak in the tub," he told her. "I think I got a little chill today. I want to lay in the hot water for a while."
Tiffany looked up at her father with what she felt was her most seductive expression. "Your back sore?"
"A little."
"Okay, I'll rub it for you."
"Off to bed with you, little lady."
"No, come on, Daddy. I haven't washed your back in the tub in so long."
He stared affectionately down at her, and tweaked her nose. "I know. But you're a big girl now. I think you're a little old for that."
"That's not what you said in the car. You said I was still young-"
"Tiffany!" His voice interrupted her sharply. "Bedtime." He bent down and kissed her forehead quickly. "Scat."
He pointed through the bathroom toward her room. Tiffany stood, pouting, then she shrugged, and walked slowly through the bathroom and slammed the connecting door behind her. She sat down on the edge of her bed, her mind teeming. If he was going to take a bath, that would be a perfect way to start something. She knew he liked to soak in the tub, and she pictured herself sitting between his legs, and-
"Tiffany."
She started and looked up. The door had opened silently, and her father was standing before her, frowning.
"What, Daddy."
"Are you mad."
"No."
"Then why slam the door?"
"I didn't slam the door. I just closed it. It slammed by itself." She stared innocently up at him, and his face softened.
"Oh. All right."
"Don't get mad at me, Daddy."
"I'm not mad at you, sweetheart."
"Then can I come and wash your back like I used to?"
She stared at him, putting every ounce of her feeling into her eyes. Please, Daddy, please . . . I want to.. . I want to sit in that bath with you . . . I want to.. .
Eliot shook his head hopelessly and grinned. "Oh, all right, I suppose so."
He turned away before he could catch her look of instant excitement. He had agreed! Oh, wow . . .
With her heart throbbing so hard she felt it might choke her, Tiffany began undressing, knowing that in the other room her father was doing the same thing. She pictured him removing his shirt, then his pants, his shoes and socks, his T-shirt, then his shorts . . . and standing naked, with that wonderful, thick, long prick hanging loosely between his muscular legs, swinging back and forth with every movement, looking so wonderfully enticing. She remembered him from the last time she had washed his back, only he had always let her in the tub after he had soaped himself enough to make the water cloudy, and had always sat forward, his hips well hidden under the water. But now, it was going to be different. Oh, yes, it would be so different.
She heard him pad softly into the bathroom and a moment later, the water splashed from the faucets and the roar of the fast-falling streams matched the blood pounding through her veins. She'd better wait, she thought. Wait till he fills the tub and gets in-then she would make her entrance. Yes, what an entrance she would make. Should she wear her robe and then take it off before him, like a stripper? Or should she walk in naked and just behave like she used to when she was younger, before she had felt this irrepressible urge toward him? She glanced nervously toward the bathroom, then, with a quick jerk, she pulled off the remainder of her clothes and reached for her robe in the closet. She had decided on the stripper routine.
The noise of the water indicated that the tub was almost filled, and she heard her father testing it, splashing his hands around in it. She pictured him standing naked beside the tub, bending over, letting those big balls and cock dangle down. What would he do if she came up behind him and grabbed him? She giggled at the thought, a quick, nervous giggle, and then stopped, realizing that her hands were trembling. Impatiently she approached the bathroom door, thrusting her hands into the pockets of her robe, hoping that her smile would be all he would notice. If he saw her hands shaking, he might suspect something. And he mustn't suspect anything. It must all happen innocently, naturally, like she was a little girl again, just eagerly experimenting. And what's wrong with a little girl getting in the bath with her father? They had done it for years.
She paused, her heart jumping with the sudden silence that descended as Eliot turned off the water. A moment later she heard the splash as he climbed in and lowered himself into the water. She heard his sigh of pleasure as he leaned back, letting his limbs relax in the warmth. Let him relax a moment, she thought. . .
"Tiffany."
"Yes?"
"Are you coming in or aren't you."
"I'm here."
Summoning her waning courage, Tiffany walked into the bathroom in her robe, and turned, hanging it up behind the door, then facing him. She noticed with a glow of satisfaction that his eyes ran quickly over her body and then looked away.
"It's kinda hot. Be careful getting in."
"Well, scoot forward and I'll get in behind you.
Was his voice unnaturally gruff, she thought, as she lifted her leg over the edge of the tub and felt the hot water enclose her toes. She gasped. It was hot. No matter. She slid in slowly behind him, and leaned back for a moment before reaching for the soap.
She let her hands linger briefly on his shoulders, then began rubbing the soap across, kneading his muscles with her small fingers. She felt him shudder a moment and then relax.
"That feel good?"
"Uh-huh." Eliot dropped his head and closed his eyes, savoring the sensuous touch of her fingers on his tired flesh.
Tiffany placed the soap back in the receptacle in the wall, and began rubbing the suds back and forth, up and down. "Lean forward, Daddy," she said firmly, her nervousness suddenly evaporating beneath a burgeoning self-confidence. Now she was actually in the tub with him. She began enjoying herself. She shifted her legs so that they slid down beside him and she pressed on his shoulders, letting her fingers dig in, sliding up around his neck, caressing, pressing, hoping that her burning desire would transmit itself through her touch, and make him realize what it was she really wanted.
"You've sure got a lovely tan," she murmured.
"Hm. It won't last long if we stay up here."
"But we're going back this week, you said."
"I know."
"You miss Patricia, Daddy."
"Of course I miss her, sweetheart."
"But you've got me and Axel."
"Tiffany, I love you both. You know that. But the love I feel for Patricia is different."
"Love's love."
"Well, be that as it may, I still miss Patricia."
"I don't."
"Let's not talk about it, huh."
"All right."
She noted that his breathing had become deeper, heavier, and she wondered: Is he getting excited? Is the magic working? Are my fingers doing their job right?
"Lean back a little, Daddy. I can't reach around your shoulders." Eliot sighed and let his body rest back against her, and Tiffany tingled with anticipation. She let her hands enclose his round, firm shoulder muscles, and slid them down over his biceps and reached for his forearms.
"That feel good?"
"Of course it does."
"Does Patricia rub your back this good?" He cleared his throat. "I said let's not talk about her."
Tiffany giggled. "I bet you do more than have your back washed when she gets in the tub with you."
Eliot started. "Tiffany. Another remark like that and you'll get turned over my knee. You're not too old for that."
Tiffany giggled. "I'm sorry."
"I should hope so. You may not like your stepmother, but she loves you and I wish you'd be nicer to her. For my sake, if nothing more."
"Okay. I'll try." Tiffany observed with relief that he relaxed again. She leaned forward and saw his eyes were closed. She stared down and with a sudden thrill she saw his prick between his legs. It was stretched out, waving slowly back and forth in the water, and it certainly didn't look soft. Maybe he was excited and just didn't want her to know it. Maybe . . .
"I need some more soap."
Tiffany reached for the soap, rubbed it perfunctorily over his shoulders and then, with a feigned expression of annoyance, she let it slip and fall across his chest, down . . . down . . . "Oh, dam," she muttered, and reaching under his armpit, she fumbled around on his stomach, then, almost as if she felt something was pushing her hand forward, she reached down and felt her fingers close around his penis. And it was hard. Or slightly hard. Not rock-hard like Axel's had been that afternoon. But it certainly wasn't soft.
Eliot's eyes blinked open in alarm and he sat up with a jerk, and Tiffany's fingers were pried loose.
"Tiffany!"
"I was feeling for the soap, Daddy. It fell down there."
"Here."
Eliot reached between his legs and handed her the soap. He glanced at her and saw that her eyes were staring at him and there was a smile on her lips.
"You've sure got a big one, Daddy."
"You leave him alone," he said gruffly. "You know what happens if you touch him."
"He gets hard, doesn't he?"
"He does, and that's not anything you should do."
"Why not? I thought it felt good."
"Tiffany, you can ask the darnedest questions."
"I just want to know, Daddy. And you've never felt funny about that before."
Eliot cleared his throat. "You were younger then. Now-" His voice trailed off as he felt a familiar tingle in his groin and the slow flooding of desire within him. "Tiffany, I think you'd better get out and dry off. That felt good, baby. Thanks for the rub."
"Oh, I'm not through yet," she replied quickly. "I'll wash the rest of you."
"NO!"
His voice exploded, not with anger, but more with anguish and concern. His prick, slowly rising, had become a source of painful embarrassment to him. The touch of her small lingers around the shaft had triggered his normally virile responses. He knew in a few seconds he would have a roaring hard-on.
"Come on, Daddy." Tiffany's voice was insistent.
"NO! Now you get out and dry yourself."
Reluctantly Tiffany stood up and slid one leg over the edge of the tub. Her eyes were glued to her father's body, to that enticing tangle of hair below his navel where, she could see quite plainly, his prick had expanded, and was now sticking up out of the water. Her heart beat faster and she felt herself trembling again, not with fear, but with a rising sense of anticipation. She turned, standing naked before him, and staring down at him. His eyes met hers and she smiled at him. Before he could reach out to stop her, she had dropped to her knees and extended her hand, gripping his prick once more and squeezing it.
"Tiffany!"
"Oh, Daddy, it's hard. It's real hard. And so big."
His hand came forward, taking her arm and moving it away, and her fingers slid enticingly off his shaft, leaving the tingle even more insistent in his groin, and the erotic thoughts in his mind even stronger.
"Tiffany, that's not something you play with."
"But I want to, Daddy. I want to. Please. It feels good, I know. Come on."
Impulsively, she climbed over the edge of the tub, between his legs, and squatted in the water, facing him, her hands once more taking his sex between the small fingers, sending exciting chills through his body.
"Come on, let me wash him for you. There's nothing wrong in that, is there?"
With a groan, Eliot leaned back and closed his eyes, conscious only of the waves of desire that chased his reason. In his mind he saw Patricia, imagined her lips around his cock, and the thrill of her servicing him the way she could do with such impassioned eagerness . . .
Tiffany reached for the soap and began soaping the shaft of his prick, and with each touch, he felt his body growing weaker, his nerves giving over completely to the utter sensuality of the moment, together with the perverse knowledge that if she continued, he would most certainly climax. His normal virility responded, and he slowly opened his eyes, gazing down at Tiffany, who was staring at his cock intently, her fingers massaging the soap up and down, pulling his foreskin back and forth over the head, while his prick jerked and jumped with every touch of her soft flesh. Casually he let his eyes roam over her body, realizing with a shock that her tits were really developing. They pushed out from her chest with provocative fullness, their round nipples firm and so luscious. He had the sudden urge to lean forward and close his lips around their rosebud ends, to lick his tongue back and forth across them, just the same as he always did with Patricia when she was kneeling over his body, her tits hanging in his face while her hot snatch enclosed his cock. Patricia . . . Patricia . . .
"No. That's enough, Tiffany."
He sat up and scooted his hips back, away from her, allowing his prick to disappear between his legs. She looked at him provocatively. "Daddy, that was fun," she said with as much innocence as she could muster. "Come on, let me do it some more."
"No, dear." Momentarily his sense of humor prevailed, and he leaned forward, lifting her chin and smiling into her eyes. "If you go on, something might happen and I don't think that would be very wise."
"What will happen?" She knew, and inside, she found herself giggling with the knowledge that she knew. If he knew what had happened that very afternoon, how she had been with her brother, feeling his cock slide deep into her . . .
"Come on, bedtime."
"NO!" This time it was Tiffany's voice that rang out, insistent, eager, and before he could move, she had reached down and grabbed his prick firmly, holding onto its provocative fullness and at the same time, pushing with her other hand against her father's chest. He slipped on the smooth surface of the tub, his back coming to rest against the sloping rear and his penis moving up out of the water. In a flash, Tiffany had bent her head down and closed her lips around the pulsating red cockhead that nestled in her fingers. She sucked hard, letting her tongue play across the slit and moving back and forth underneath. That sensitive spot, Sally's words rang in her ears. Concentrate on that and he'll go out of his mind. Eliot's eyes widened as the prickles of delight shot through him, and his mouth fell open.
"Tiffany!"
Frantically she sucked, holding the shaft in her hand and concentrating her lips and tongue upon his flesh, knowing almost instinctively that now there was no turning back. The sensations were too strong, the desire too powerful in his loins, the erotic attraction of the perversity of their actions too great.
"Ooooh.. . " Eliot found his arms almost powerless. It felt as though every ounce of his strength had been sapped by the frightening development, the awesome knowledge of what was happening. Despite the voice of his conscience he succumbed; he allowed it to happen; he, by this time, wanted it to happen, wanted her to continue, on and on, her small mouth tight around his cock, her tongue licking firmly, back and forth, burying its tip in his wide cockslit, rubbing around . . .
With terrifying fascination, he let himself watch her, taking in not only her face, eagerly suspended above his prick, but her body, smooth, firm, immeasurably appealing to that repressed instinct for youth inherent in every man. Her hair fell over her cheeks, every now and then dragging across his legs, adding to the tingles of sensual delight.
He felt the slow surge from within, his eventual climax. It felt as though his balls were about to burst, that he would shoot his sperm endlessly into her mouth . . .
"Tiffany, stop, for God's sake!"
She grinned at him. "Now you know," she said simply. "I've always wanted to do that, Daddy. Oh, what a beautiful cock you have!"
Her words emerged, not as the adolescent ramblings of a child, but as an adult and her tone reminded him once more of Patricia; for a blinding moment of fantasy, he even imagined it was Patricia nestling in his crotch.
"Tiffany, that's enough."
"You mean you don't want me to make you come?"
The bluntness of her words sent a shiver of apprehension through him. "No, I don't."
She laughed, and moved back. He sighed within, thankful that it was over; that she was moving back, and in a second would be out of the tub, and into her bedroom, and he could lay there alone and masturbate himself to his climax, imagining in his mind again that it was Patricia . . .
Tiffany looked down at him, admiring his trim, well-muscled build, and her eyes stared at the throbbing prick sticking up out of the water, its bright-red head jerking spasmodically. In a second, she had moved her feet forward. Eliot thought she was about to step out of the tub, but instead, she planted one leg each side of his hips, and dropped her body, impaling herself upon his rock-hard prick, gasping with delight as she felt the end penetrate her vagina, push into her tight little pussy, enclosing his shaft, gripping it firmly as it slid into her. Eliot's hands came forward, grasping her shoulders, trying to move her up, but the electricity was too much; their bodies merged, fused and he felt his orgasm building. The immeasurable firmness around his cock was not to be denied, together with the slow sensuous movements of her body as she rode his penis.
"Oh, yes, yes, Daddy, Daddy, fuck me!"
From his balls he felt his jism begin, travel up as every nerve ending responded, sending messages of ecstasy to his brain, telling him that the moment was supreme, the ultimate; there was nothing better, and it could not be denied. His hands held her shoulders, and unconsciously he pulled her to him, closing his lips over hers, his tongue pushing into her mouth as his seed erupted along his cock, shooting into her in a glorious orgasm of delight that he felt was unequaled ever before in his experience.
Tiffany felt she was floating, leaving her body. Her own hot cunt was awash with their juices, and her body quivered beneath her own orgasm, together with the knowledge that for the first time, a man was shooting into her. She had wanted it that afternoon with Axel, but he had pulled out before he came; now it was happening. She could feel the hot jism flooding into her, running down her cunt and making his penis even more slick and slippery within her. She trembled uncontrollably and her hips moved almost without her being aware of it, rotating around and around, feeling that hot, spurting cock deep inside her, up and down, around and around . . .
Eliot broke apart, gasping, "Oh, God, Oh, God, no, no, more, that was too much, that was too wonderful, oh, sweet Jesus!" And Tiffany lay flat, her head next to her father's, nestling on his shoulder, feeling his prick slowly soften within her and begin sliding out. Desperately she pushed her hips down, trying to keep it in her, but inevitably, she felt it slip out and she cried out from the frustration. She sat up and back, looking down at the cock across his leg, and she reached out to feel it, noticing how slick, how sticky it was.
"Oh, Daddy, Oh, Daddy," was all she could say, and as their eyes met, she saw the burning desire still within his glance, and his hand reached out and patted her shoulder.
"Tiffany, sweetheart.. . "
She leaned forward and kissed him quickly. "Don't say anything," she murmured. "Just relax and feel good. That was good, wasn't it?"
He nodded. "Yes, it was," he said. "But Tiffany, you shouldn't have. It isn't right.. . " His voice trailed off and he stared down at his cock, still in her fingers as she played with it, turning it over, examining its length, pulling the foreskin back and staring hard at the head, wiping off a globule of cum with her finger and putting it to her lips, tasting it carefully; then she grinned. "Tastes like salted peanuts," she said, and broke into a merry laugh. "Maybe next time I'll suck it until you come."
"Oh, Christ," he moaned, turning away and closing his eyes, and in his mind he saw Patricia standing at the doorway to the bathroom, her blazing eyes accusing him, her words spewing forth with vitriolic fervor as she told him how vile he was, how despicable, how utterly without redemption, that he would indulge in sex with his own daughter. The vision faded and he opened his eyes and saw Tiffany still playing with his cock.
"Tiffany, enough," he said firmly. "Now it's bedtime."
She looked up at him, saddened at the realization that the moment was passing. "Can I sleep with you?" she asked. "I want to."
"No," he replied, moving back and standing up in the tub before stepping out and reaching for a towel. "You'll sleep in your own bed."
"But.. . " She followed him out on to the thick carpeting by the tub. "I'm scared by myself."
He looked at her then laughed shortly. "You're not scared," he said. "You're just lonesome."
"Lonesome and . . . " She hesitated, then continued, "horny."
"Stop it," he snapped. "It's bad enough what happened. I don't want it to happen again. You understand?"
She nodded, but knew he didn't mean it. She knew there would be another time. Perhaps not that night, but soon. And next time, she knew, there would be more than just a mere seduction. There would be that wonderful blending of their bodies. She would suck his cock. She would play with it. She could climb on him and let it slide into her. Maybe he would even lick her cunt, like she heard Sally talking about; like Axel had done to her that afternoon, like-
"Go on, off to bed," he said, slapping her lightly on her bare buttocks. "See you in the morning."
"All right," she answered reluctantly. She waited for his kiss, and when it came, her arms went around his shoulders, and she clung to him, letting her tongue push between his lips quickly. He broke away, his eyes burning.
"No more," he said. She laughed merrily and ran through the doorway and jumped into her bed, pulling the covers up to her chin and staring at the door, knowing he would come and blow her one more kiss, and when he did, she would have one more look at his body, at that wonderful long, thick cock between his legs, that beautiful organ which had been the first to come inside her, to shoot his love juices into her cunt and give her the most incredibly wonderful sensations she ever dreamed possible.
"I love you, Daddy," she murmured, and in minutes she was asleep.