Chapter 6
Tiffany sat staring out of the car window as the Illinois countryside sped by, or as much of it as was visible between the buildings on each side of the expressway. Eliot was maintaining a stolid silence ever since they drove away from the auditorium. Normally he had some jocular remark to make, some little piece of inconsequential conversation to break the silence; but he had said nothing except that they were going home to rest, and hopefully get a few hours' sleep as there was a long night ahead. Eliot kept his eyes glued to the road and scarcely even acknowledged her presence. Gloomily she contemplated the situation, suspecting that perhaps he was mad at her. She even had the wild notion that he had discovered her little ruse about joining the group and was debating what to do about it. No matter. Whether he knew or not, she still held the upper hand by threatening to tell Patricia.
Eliot had, in fact, been thinking about the frightening outburst with Sally. He knew that if Tiffany were sexually aware enough to indulge in sex with him, there was an even chance that she and her brother had experimented together; but to participate in a threesome with Sally was too much. Had she been older, perhaps even fifteen or sixteen, he might have condoned her actions. He was shocked that Axel would be involved also. Shacking with Sally was one thing, but having sex with his little sister was another. Yet-Eliot rationalized that if Tiffany had the drive to seduce him, her own father, a roll in the hay with her brother would be insignificant in comparison. He wondered how she had ever gained the courage, the impelling drive to engage in these relations. He pictured her, naked, with Axel on top of her, but then the vision dissolved as he suspected it was Axel on the bottom, with Tiffany and Sally being the aggressors, covering him with their flesh, young nubile bodies, arousing him to such a pitch that he could no longer resist.
The image disturbed him and he found a growing pressure in his crotch. Impatiently he swept the thoughts from his mind, knowing that he would soon have a roaring erection, to say nothing of possible thoughts of another encounter with Tiffany. And he had firmly decided that would not happen; not ever again. He had been weak, but that had been a passing moment. Now that he knew his daughter was sexually aware, he would make sure there was never another opportunity for her to seduce him.
Eliot's mind strayed back to his own teen years, his many experiences during the time when sex was new in his body and he had pursued it until he discovered what it was all about. He remembered again the multiple rape of the young girl in his room; there were also many other episodes, most of them single sessions with girls at school. Eliot had been a handsome and virile youth whose charms were not overlooked by the girls in his neighborhood, all of whom were more than anxious to discover what it was that caused the rather large bulge in his blue jeans. And he was more than willing to allow them to explore. He smiled to himself at the memory; those were the mysterious years, but nonetheless a period of memorable associations that had paved the way for his later sexual prowess with women, his total ability to satisfy them in many ways. His virility astounded himself at times, and while the woman he married and who bore him his two children was adequate, she could never excite him sufficiently to keep his desires under control. At least Patricia matched his own, and he was more than content with her abilities in bed. She also made a highly attractive and enviable wife for him to escort to business functions; she was not only able to fulfill his needs in a marital partner, but he also felt a deep sense of pride in her. He knew that despite the many moments of joy he had with the children's mother, Patricia was truly the only woman he had met who could fuck and suck him enough to satisfy him.
Despite her liberality, he knew she would be horrified by his encounter with Tiffany. It was odd, he mused, that many women who shed all inhibition in bed and fuck in all manner of sensual ways, can very often display a highly puritanical and moralistic attitude toward certain practices. He knew that having sex with one's own offspring would be beyond Patricia's boundaries of acceptable behavior. And even though he had to admit it was the most exciting sex he had ever indulged in, he knew that his own conscience would trouble him for years over the moment. He prayed that it would submerge beneath the surface of memory; he knew it could not, must not happen again.
He had even contemplated sending Tiffany away to school. If she were not living at home, there would be no possibility of any further temptation from her. But it had gone too far; she wanted, to join the group, and only her own ineptitude on stage would negate any possibility of her joining her brother in a career. He wondered what Patricia would say to the decision, knowing that he would have to dream up a very convincing argument to eliminate her suspicions.
He prayed that the child would exhibit enough talent to justify his agreement. But there was still that first meeting with Patricia when they got home, and he did not relish the moment. He could visualize her reaction and hear her harsh words of derision, knowing also that she would be right, but knowing it would be impossible to divulge the real reason for his allowing the girl to join her brother . . . Christ, if only he had not been so easily aroused, and had not let himself be seduced. It did seem ridiculous, but at the time his emotions overcame his reason. And Tiffany, despite her age, was a highly provocative girl; in another year, he knew she would be the proverbial knockout.
"Daddy . . . ? "
He turned and saw her smiling at him uncertainly. "What?"
"You're awful quiet."
"I'm thinking, sweetheart."
"Oh. I thought maybe you were mad at me." He scowled. "Well, I'm not exactly doing cartwheels, Tiffany. I've got lots to worry about."
"You mean me."
"Yes."
"Oh. I thought maybe you were worried about the concert."
"I'm not worried about that. I know Axel will do good, but everything depends on that recording contract. I know we'll get some more bookings for him, but without the album, it won't be so easy."
Tiffany nodded. "I know. But don't worry. Everything's going to be fine. I can feel it." She leaned over and touched his thigh gently. "Don't worry about anything, Daddy."
He took his eyes off the road for a moment and looked into her face. God, she was attractive, he thought suddenly, then chased the thought from his mind.
"Tiffany, I want you to promise me something."
"What?"
"It's about what happened last night."
"Oh. Are you still mad about that."
"No, I'm not mad, but I want you to promise it will never happen again. No matter what. It's not right, Tiffany, and I cannot tell you how bad I feel that I let it happen."
She giggled, "But Daddy, it was wonderful."
"I know it was, but that doesn't alter anything. I was overcome by the fact you're very attractive and when a man gets upset, it does something to his mind. I won't deny you made me very horny and if I hadn't been, nothing would have happened. But you-" His voice trailed off for a moment. "Tiffany, I don't want to talk about it again. Just promise me you'll forget it. Okay?"
She giggled again and slowly shook her head. "How can I? It was the most wonderful moment of my life, Daddy. And I love you. Are you asking me to stop loving you?"
"No, I'm not. I'm just telling you to forget any ideas of sex with me in the future. There'll be lots of boy friends for you when you get a little older . . . " His voice died again as he remembered Sally's words, and he knew how lame his reasoning was in view of her other possible involvements already. How shattering it was to discover his own daughter was already sexually experienced, and that it was her brother who had probably started her off.
"Daddy, you're just being silly." Tiffany's voice took on a sudden tension. "I'm not going to promise anything because you can't tell how things will be."
"All right, all right," he snapped. "But at least you know how I feel about it, Tiffany. It may have been wonderful, but right now I wish it had never happened. I wish-" He sighed, and she reached over and squeezed his thigh once more.
"Don't be like that," she said softly. "No one's ever going to know."
He stared at her quickly, and his features were grim. "You mean no one will know as long as you get what you want," he said dryly. "There's a word for that, Tiffany. It's called blackmail, and it's one of the dirtiest words in the world. Obviously you're not at all ashamed, and you should be."
She laughed out loud. "Of course I'm not ashamed. What I've done is what I've felt like doing. It's been natural. So why should it be wrong?"
"It's wrong to ball with me," he replied, his voice rising in anger. "And just as wrong to fuck with your brother."
Tiffany's eyes widened and she bit her lip nervously. "What do you mean by that?"
"It means I know about you and Axel," he snapped. "And I'm not at all happy about that anymore than I am about you and me last night. Tiffany, I love you, but don't stretch that love too far. Even if it means telling Patricia about what happened, I may still do it, and may still maybe send you away."
"You wouldn't dare," she said heatedly. "And how do you know about me and Axel? Did he tell you?"
"No, he didn't."
"Oh. Then Sally did."
"Yes, she did, if you must know. But what difference does it make who told me? I'd have probably found out eventually."
"Oh, wow." Tiffany sniffed and scowled. "Well, anyway, I don't think it's wrong. If I can fuck a boy friend, what difference is there between someone like that and someone in my family? I love you and Axel. That makes it all right, and I think it's better than screwing some boy who's just after sex and doesn't really love you, not the way we love each other."
Eliot shook his head disconsolately and his mind teemed with conflicting thoughts. "Tiffany, when you get older, you'll realize one of the biggest problems that men and women face is separating love and sex. Sometimes they go together, but most times they don't, which is a sad fact of life. And the love you feel for Axel, or for me, has nothing to do with sex. Right now you're just finding out about sex, and that's no reason to explore it physically with your own family."
"Why not?"
"Because.. . " His voice floundered as he realized that he honestly did not have a legitimate reason to give her.
Tiffany laughed loudly. "You see, Daddy, you can't tell me. So until you give me a good reason, I'm just going to follow my own feelings. Do my own thing. Isn't that what everyone does today?"
"I'm all for doing your own thing," Eliot countered firmly. "As long as no one gets hurt. And if you continue with this idea of yours, someone's going to get hurt, believe me."
"I don't see how. I love you, and I love Axel, and I know you love me. So why can't we show how much we love each other by having sex? It's wonderful. Daddy, it's the most wonderful thing I've ever had happen to me. I can't wait till I do it again." The words were out before she could stop them, and from her father's expression, she knew she had said the wrong thing. Eliot's eyes burned into hers.
"I can understand your reaction to sex," he said scathingly. "You're not alone there. But unless you learn to control it, you'll find you're going to be very alone, young lady, because I won't stand for you being in the same house with me." He paused, breathing heavily, his heart pounding with fear and anger.
"You won't send me away," said Tiffany softly. "Because if you do, I'll tell Patricia."
"So there's nothing more to say," Eliot replied. "But you're certainly making it very difficult to be nice to you, Tiffany. Right now I can't tell you how disgusted I feel, with you, with myself, with the whole goddamn scene."
She bit her lip, suddenly aware that the conversation had gone further than she anticipated. She turned away, and continued staring out of the window until the car turned into the driveway of the house. Without a look at her, Eliot opened the door, grabbed his briefcase and marched up the steps to the front door. Tiffany followed him meekly, uncertain of whether to try and continue their discussion or merely to let it ride for the time being.
They entered the hallway and Eliot turned to her. "Tiffany, we're going to be up late tonight. I want you to go to your room and get some sleep. I'm going to take a nap myself. And . . . " His eyes were steely. "I want you to know that if you as much as try to come into my room, you'll get the biggest spanking of your life."
Tiffany saw that her father's face was taut, and his voice left no doubt that he meant what he said. "All right, Daddy," she said meekly, moving toward the stairs. "But there's no need to get mad about it, Daddy. I-I still love you," she concluded, injecting a tearful break into her voice as she turned away and ran quickly upward out of his sight. Eliot stood, staring after her, a vague feeling of discomfort over her reaction. Had he been too harsh? Was she going to her room and sob her eyes out now? After all, she was only thirteen, going on fourteen, but she was still a child. And if she had made a mistake, did he have the right to vent his own frustrated feelings of inadequacy upon her?
With a shrug, he followed her and went directly to his room, throwing his briefcase impatiently on a chair and sitting down on the edge of the bed. He glanced up and saw that the door to the bathroom was closed. He pictured Tiffany in her room, and for a moment he could have sworn he heard her stifled sobs . . .
Impatiently he took off his shoes and socks and slipped off his clothes, shrugging into his robe and plopping down on top of the bed with a sigh of relief. He was suddenly aware of how exhausted he was. He closed his eyes and slowly relaxed.
Tiffany heard her father enter his room and she pictured him taking off his clothes and getting into bed. Despite her feeling of rejection after his stern words, she found a steadily mounting excitement within her at the thought of him, barely ten yards away, his body stretched out. That beautiful body, so firm and muscular, so tanned, so appealing, and between his legs that large thick cock, laying against those big balls, nestling in their tangle of pubic hair, all ready for her to take between her lips and bring to full erection and then plunge deep into her cunt. . .
Impatiently she stood, her body trembling slightly, and an erotic thrill coursing through her loins. Eliot's words still rang in her mind, and she knew it would be fatal to even attempt anything. She couldn't let him vent his anger; not now. And if she as much as opened the door, she knew she would get it, but good.
With a sigh, she slipped out of her clothes and crawled between the sheets. She was not at all sleepy. She lay still, then as the vision of her father's body loomed stronger in her imagination, her fingers slid down between her legs. She probed inside her cunt and gently stroked her clitoris, remembering how it had felt the night before when her father's cock had pushed into her, sending those fabulous feelings into every nerve ending, transporting her into utter ecstasy.
She brought one hand up to her tits and began tweaking her nipples, glorying in their firmness, those hard little nubs which seemed to quiver with every caress of her fingertips.
In her mind she pictured herself tiptoeing toward the bathroom door, opening it silently, moving on to the connecting door and opening that, and as it slid back, seeing her father stretched out on the bed, naked, on his back, and between his thighs, his cock full erection, standing there, throbbing, just waiting for her to come in and take care of it. . . She knew he wanted it; how could he refuse? He had known how good she made him feel. How could he possibly turn down a repeat encounter with her?
Her hands worked their magic on her body and her mind became more excited. Her thoughts hungered for some way to make it happen, make him agree to taking her again, to letting him enjoy her body just as she wanted so much to enjoy his cock.
She couldn't go in, she knew that. But what if she could get him to come to her? But how? He was probably already sound asleep. Desperately she racked her brain, and then an inspiration hit.
With a grin, she sat up and reached to the night stand for the large heavy glass ash tray. Carefully she lifted it, aimed and threw it forcefully across the room. The glass hit the door to the bathroom and shattered with a shrill tinkling sound, the pieces falling to the floor. At the same time, Tiffany gave a loud wail and turned over, burying her face in the pillow and sobbing with as much force as she could muster. She paused a moment, listening. There was no sound from the next room. She resumed her pitiful sounds once more, lifting her mouth off the pillow to let her voice echo around the room.
Eliot had felt himself sliding slowly into sleep when he heard the loud crash against the bathroom door, followed by the muffled sound of Tiffany's sobs. He sat up, frowning, his heart beating with sudden apprehension. What was it? Had she merely fallen, or what? Without pausing to think, he jumped off the bed and ran across the room, flinging open the bathroom door and going quickly into Tiffany's room. As he threw open the connecting door, he saw the large pieces of the broken ash tray on the floor. He raised his eyes and saw her in bed, her face pushed deep into the pillow.
"Tiffany!"
She raised up and her hp trembled. "I'm sorry, Daddy. I didn't mean to wake you."
"What's going on?"
"I-I just got mad and threw the ash tray, that was all."
Eliot bent down and carefully picked up the pieces of glass. He carried them over to the trash and dropped them in, then went to her, sitting on the edge of the bed.
"That wasn't very nice, you know that, huh?"
She turned away from him, hiding her eyes beneath her fingers.
"Tiffany."
"Daddy, leave me alone."
"Tiffany, there's nothing to cry about."
"You shouted at me. You're mad at me. You hate me. Go away and leave me alone. I think I'll kiU myself."
Eliot could not resist a smile. "There, there, sweetheart. You mustn't carry on like this." She ignored him and continued sobbing. "Tiffany, look at me."
Slowly she moved her fingers and stared at him, her face reflecting her misery. Gently he put out a hand and touched hers.
"Look, baby, I've bawled you out lots of times, so why this big scene now?"
"Because-because I love you, and you make me feel like I'm terrible just like-like a whore!" She blurted out the last word, giving it all the repulsive emphasis she could muster, and she noticed him flinch. He took her hand and squeezed it tenderly.
"That's not the word I would have used," he said gently. "And in any case, I'm just as much to blame for what happened. I should never have let you go that far. But believe me, what I said was for your own good."
"That's what you always say when it's something I want to do. It's for your own good," she mimicked his voice. "I don't think it's bad and I don't feel bad. I'm just miserable because you don't love me any more."
"Tiffany, I do love you, sweetheart. I love you very much. And it's because I love you that I said what I did. And I still mean it, every single word."
"You don't," she sniffled, trying to coax a few more tears from her eyes. "You think I'm no good."
"I didn't say that," he said, a slight note of impatience creeping into his voice. "Tiffany, you're behaving like a child. Now stop this crying. We've both got to get some rest."
She reached for him and almost automatically, from long years of habit, he folded her into his arms and held her, patting her shoulder. Tiffany felt an immediate thrill at his touch.
"Daddy, I love you," she whispered.
"Okay, and I love you," he replied. "Now come on. Get some rest. We have to get going by about six."
She drew away slightly, but still kept her arms over his shoulders. "Can-can I take a rest with you?" she asked, exerting every ounce of innocence she could in her voice.
He shook his head firmly. "No, Tiffany. You curl up here, and I'm going back to my room now."
She clung to him tighter as the cry broke from her throat, "No, please don't. I want you to stay with me. I'm miserable, Daddy. Come on, please."
Eliot felt himself wavering. If she did feel bad, why not give her the fatherly comfort she asked for? He wouldn't let himself become excited. He would maintain complete self-control. What harm could there be?
"Tiffany-"
"Please, Daddy . . . " It was like a final anguished plea from a soul in torment, reminding him too sharply of the many moments when, as a small child, she would cry out in the middle of the night.
"Oh, all right," he said resignedly. "Come on into my room. The bed's bigger."
Tiffany kissed him excitedly, her heart pounding, and she slid out from beneath the covers and stood next to him, naked. She noted with a glow of satisfaction that his eyes strayed quickly over her body before looking away. Eliot stood up, pulled his robe tightly around him and began walking toward the bathroom. "Put your robe on," he said gruffly. "You don't want to catch cold."
"All right." Tiffany grabbed her robe, slipped it on and followed him into his bedroom. By the time she entered, he was already under the sheet, on the far side.
Meekly she climbed in and lay still, staring at the ceiling, conscious of the few feet between their bodies, and her father's heavy breathing. Was he breathing that way because he was tired or because he was trying to quell the rising tide of excitement in his crotch?
"These sheets are cold," she murmured.
"Go to sleep," he said, his voice shaky.
She remained silent, her mind teeming with possibilities for enticing him closer, for getting their bodies close enough to touch, and once that happened, she knew . . . she knew . . .
"Daddy, are you still mad at me?"
"Tiffany, this is the last time I shall tell you. Go to sleep. I'm exhausted and I'm in no mood to talk."
He snuggled into the bed, pulled the sheet closer around his neck and closed his eyes. Already he regretted his weakening; he realized that Tiffany, having already used her actions to get what she wanted, would certainly not stop now. He would have to be firm, very firm. Nothing must happen-nothing must ever happen again. Gradually he relaxed, and then the numbness began creeping through his muscles, and he felt the heaviness overcoming his mind and his body and slowly he slipped into unconsciousness.
Tiffany had her eyes closed, but her heart was beating very fast and her hands were shaking. She knew her only recourse now was to wait till he was asleep and then slowly, inch by inch, slide across the sheet, her fingers probing ahead of her, and carefully, oh, so very carefully, reach for that one spot where she knew he would be most vulnerable. That enticing mound between his thighs that housed his cock, his balls.
She waited, and then the stillness was broken by a soft snore. She opened her eyes, hardly believing her good luck. He was asleep. He had really fallen asleep, even though she knew he was probably still suspicious that she would try to start something.
She heard him snore again, and shift slightly in his sleep. There was no doubt about it. He was gone, and now the coast was clear! She could start. . .
Slowly, with nerve-shattering care, she rolled over on her side, facing him, and let her hand move across the sheet until it was extended as far as she could reach. Pressing down, she maneuvered her body closer, making sure not to disturb the covers or pull them and perhaps wake him. Scooting her hips forward, an inch at a time, she managed to move until she was barely arm's length away. He was still breathing heavily, and occasionally a snore would startle her, but at the same time, reassure her.
Her hand moved down until it was even with his thighs. She lifted it up, lifting the covers at the same time, and slid her fingers over his hip until they were above his crotch. Down, down, slowly, slowly, until her hand came to rest on his body. Through his robe she could feel the vague outlines of his prick.
For a moment Tiffany thought her heart would explode in her throat. Gently she felt the edge of the robe, and slowly she began pulling it back, off his crotch. It seemed like the movement took hours, but finally she had it clear, and she placed her fingers back, above his crotch.
She glanced up at his face. His eyes were closed, and his mouth slightly open. His breathing was slow and regular. He was asleep, beautifully asleep.
Suddenly she realized that even if she managed to grip his prick, to excite him to an erection, she had to get closer. Her head was still above the covers, and she couldn't suck him off that way. And maybe as she moved herself underneath, he might awaken. She paused, and then slowly withdrew her hand, bringing it up to the edge of the sheet. She took the fabric in her hand and gradually lifted it so that she could, by carefully moving her body down toward the foot of the bed, slide underneath. As the edge of the sheet passed over her eyes, and she entered the world underneath, she found her nervousness evaporating, and she felt she was embarking on a glorious, thrilling adventure. It was almost as if she was in a dark cave, like she once experienced when she and Axel had gone exploring in the hills, and at the end of the cave was something wonderful. Only now she knew what that something wonderful was-her father's cock!
She slid down, carefully replacing the sheet behind her, and her hand went over, lifting the sheet inches from his body, and her fingers once again touched his cock. She could feel the soft skin around the shaft of his prick, and she trembled, a passing spasm of delirious satisfaction, and then, very, very gently, she closed her fingers around his flesh. She could feel the thickness, the smooth skin, and slowly she slid it down toward his balls, knowing that it would move off that glorious flat red head, allowing her to place the tip of one finger under the slit to begin its magic work of arousal.
She could feel her father's body still relaxed, breathing deeply and regularly. Her own heartbeats were fast and so loud she was almost afraid the noise would awaken him; then she realized that only she could hear them, and besides, under the sheets, it sounded even louder.
Her finger moved up and she felt the outline of the head of his cock. She slid around, underneath, and gently began stroking. Almost at once she felt the shaft give a little jerk, and began getting hard. Lights danced before her eyes, she was so excited. He was getting hard! She continued the feather-like touching, and gradually the hardness mounted, extended, and in minutes, his cock was fully erect, the end pushing up. She closed her fingers completely around his sex, savoring its thickness, and rubbing the skin back and forth slowly over the head.
If he awoke now, she knew it would all be over.
She had to get him to such a stage of excitement that even if he knew what was happening, he could not resist-he would have to let her finish.
Carefully she moved her head toward his body, holding the sheet up with her one hand. She could smell the faint odor from his crotch, that musky smell she had noticed before, and her body began trembling. Between her loins she could feel her own juices begin to flow, and that incredible sensation begin in her cunt. As she moved her legs slightly, she felt her clitoris tingle and sensations flood her crotch. She was feeling almost as if a cock were inside her, making her feel that way.
Her mouth moved over until it was just above his cock. Then with infinite care, she lowered her lips and took the head in her mouth, letting it slide in gently before applying pressure, before letting her tongue caress the end and lick the lube from his slit. She felt almost as if she was about to have an orgasm herself, so great was her sense of accomplishment, of supreme sensuality. She had her father's prick in her mouth. She was sucking him gently, and he was still asleep!
Taking care not to move too quickly, Tiffany continued slowly sucking, taking more and more of the cockshaft into her mouth until she felt the head push against the back of her throat. She let her hand trail down over his balls, and her fingers enclosed them, playing with them, rolling them around in her grasp, while her lips continued their sensual motions up and down his cock.
The cock was rock-firm now, and she knew even if he awoke, he could not stop her. Nothing felt quite so good as a nice warm mouth around one's cock, and she kept her lips tightly around the throbbing flesh, letting it slide in and out while her fingers caressed the heavy sac underneath.
Suddenly Eliot moved and gave a soft moan. An icy chill swept over Tiffany and she froze, holding his cock in her mouth, and waiting . . . waiting . . . She heard him sigh deeply and then continue his heavy breathing. Only now she detected a movement in his hips. He was beginning to hump in and out of her mouth, the same way he did that first time she had sucked him without his ever waking. She thrilled at the possibility of completing the act without his even knowing it!
Gently she matched her movements with his own, and tightened her mouth around his shaft. She was trembling still, and the warm glow in her cunt was stronger. She pressed her legs together and felt her clitoris twitch in response. Her whole body was on fire, aglow with beautiful sensations.
Eliot's hips were moving quicker, and in the excitement, Tiffany failed to notice that his breathing was not so deep, and his snoring had stopped. Caught up completely in the forbidden thrills of what she was doing, she knew only that her father was responding, his penis was thick, hard and heavy in her mouth and she was sucking him off firmly, oblivious to anything else but the supreme sensuality of the moment.
She knew already that what she was doing could last only so long before he would reach a climax, but she was in no mood to concern herself with prolonging anything; she knew only that she had done what she wanted, she had managed to have her father once more, and this time she wanted to feel his jism shoot into her, to taste it, savor its salty flavor before gulping it down her throat. She would rather have had him enclosed in her hot little cunt, but she knew there was no chance of maneuvering herself into a position for that; besides, he would most certainly wake up if she straddled him the way she had in the bathtub the night before.
She let her fingers slide up from his balls and she held the bottom of his cock while her mouth licked around the end, flicking back and forth across his slit, and rubbing back and forth across that certain spot underneath the head. Every time she pressed hard, she could feel him jerk and his prick seemed to thicken, to grow harder, and his movements became more insistent. Instinctively she knew it would not be long before he came.
Tiffany's mind was delirious with ecstasy. Not only was her cunt aflame with desire, awash with her juices, but she felt she was almost dreaming, let loose in a land where she was able to consummate her deepest wishes, to express her passion for her father the way she had always felt it-and now it was happening. No matter what he had said to her earlier; no matter how much he had stressed that it should not ever happen again. She had known even as he spoke, that he didn't meant it. He had enjoyed it; he said so. And for her, it was the pinnacle of satisfaction, the ultimate expression of herself and her feelings.
Her euphoric dreaming was interrupted as she felt his body move quickly, almost jump in the bed as his hips came up higher than before; she felt his prick jerk and then instinctively she closed her mouth around the head as it spurted and flooded into her, load after load of hot cum shooting out of his cock. Her tongue tingled at the taste and her body quivered, knowing what had happened. Her own loins seemed to explode and she felt her insides convulse with ecstasy.
Desperately she gulped, swallowing the cum as it continued shooting from the end of his cock in great gobs. Then slowly she felt him begin to soften, and with infinite care, she raised her mouth and let his penis fall back against his body. She remained still, listening, but there was no movement, no noise; nothing but his heavy breathing. He had come in his sleep again! It had happened, and she had not been discovered! She felt a glow of triumph spread through her, mingling with the glow of her own climax.
Waiting a moment, Tiffany slid away, lowering the sheet over his body after replacing his robe across his crotch. She did not want him to suspect that she had done anything while he slept. She scooted across the bed and up, her head emerging from beneath the covers. Her eyes flashed over to his face, serene and relaxed. His eyes were shut, and his chest rose and fell evenly.
With a sigh of unutterable contentment, Tiffany rolled over, away from him, and in minutes she, too, was asleep, drifting off, her body glowing with a sense of fulfillment and her mind floating . . . floating . . .