Naughty Texts

Naughty Texts

"I know. I don't care."

I wish I could tell you I was confident of the consequences of my actions, that everything would be good, positive... okay. But I wasn't sure of anything... except my need for her, and her willingness. Though I've never been a gambler and rarely even spontaneous, let alone incautious, I very eagerly threw caution to the wind and risked everything, a life of hard work and investment, to accept her invitation.

I could point to a lot of moments that influenced my decision, my needs as a man, and my utter failing as a father. I could explain how my wife and I had grown apart and unfulfilled. Or how since turning 50 years old I seemed to be going through something I assured myself would never occur, a mid-life crisis; making me sentimental and nostalgic, two things I'd never been.

I could tell you it started out innocently, me sharing my interests and unintentionally unburdening myself emotionally to my 25-year-old daughter. How we spent more and more time together, unconsciously finding reasons to include each other in our daily routines. How each admission, confession, joke, and secret shared, seemingly harmlessly expanded the depth and boundaries of our relationship. But of course, there was nothing innocent in either her offer, nor my acceptance. And certainly 'innocent' cannot be used to describe a father in his daughter's bed, using her body to unburden himself physically.

Yet, it all started innocently enough when Shaylee moved back home just months ago.

****

My wife, Shelby, was on her fifth or sixth design for remodeling the back half of our house in half as many years. This included the family room and half bath, as well as two bedrooms and a full bath that she seemed intent on combining into a second master suite. One of those bedrooms had been our daughter's childhood bedroom; permanently empty now going on four years.

My interest in Shelby's plans tended to fade with each unrealized iteration. Her inability to be decisive about decorating and remodeling used to be endearing, back before she became entrenched, unable to share or concede control of anything, and back when I had more patience for her... quirks.

Our differences used to work for us, we used to compliment each other, she would suggest options, I would weigh practical considerations, and we'd compromise and make it happen.

It stopped working at some point, Shelby's indecisiveness began to frustrate me, and my tendency to see most things as a problem to be solved stopped being what my wife wanted from me, or at least it stopped being enough.

At least that's what I'd learned from months of couple's therapy. I really had hoped therapy would help, I still held a thin thread of such hope, but honestly, I think it made things worse. We used to be a team, we used to want to help each other cope with life, but in recounting all the aggravations and grievances of decades of marriage it seemed like our relationship had been reduced to score keeping, a tit-for-tat accounting of how we spend our time, how we live.

When Shaylee, our 25 year old daughter, Face Timed us crying, saying she had broken up with her fiancé and wanted to quit her job and move back home, Shelby and I were shocked but agreed, certainly hoping, and at least initially expecting, it would only be temporary until the long time couple patched things up. However, it wasn't long before Shaylee admitted the reason for their break up was she had discovered Chris, her fiancé, was having an affair with a co-worker, a male co-worker.

I resisted every urge and fiber of my being to say 'I fucking knew it,' to both my daughter and my wife, and not just because he was homosexual, or bi, or whatever hyper-specific, non-binary flavor of the gender spectrum the boy labeled himself.

Despite obvious basic intelligence, an engaging personality, and seeming wide-ranging interests, something had always bothered me about Chris. An over simplification would be he seemed not to know who he was. He would put a lot of effort into adopting whatever social movement was fashionable at any given moment, but he seemed to lack depth and grit.

I'm not ignorant or hostile to the notion that young people take longer to find themselves these days, and Chris appeared to have my daughter's heart, so I had been supportive and encouraging to my potential son-in-law, but the nagging feeling he wasn't built for the world remained throughout their relationship.

Mostly I'd always thought the young man was too not focused enough on the dangers of the real world. Too enthralled by identity politics and all it's distractions. Too convinced of future opportunities. Too sure of tomorrow. Too confident of societal protections, while being blind to the realities of the world and the ill intent of the wolves among us.

Despite my misgivings I had hoped for the best and had at least been relieved Chris wasn't some meathead, Ken-doll pretty boy, who would treat our daughter like an accessory; at least until he became an overweight looser, pining for his past glories and then would betray her while seeking a younger reminder of his youth, as those types tend to do.

I had enough empathy to feel bad for the boy, hiding his true sexuality from my daughter (and I assume others) for years, while cruel, must have been an unimaginable burden. I tried to assure my daughter it was better to find out now, than (any more) years down the road. I even offered that there were likely very real feelings involved on his part and maybe they could continue to be (and should have always been) just friends. Of course she was too hurt to see beyond her own pain at the time, but I was confident she would see the silver lining soon enough.

Shelby seemed fixated on how our daughter hadn't realized Chris was gay sooner. This lead to several conversations about sex, sexuality, and 'how things had changed."

My wife didn't seem to have a concrete view of the matter and even though I was adamant that I supported the right to be who you want to be, and love who you want to love, and that laws should reflect that; I thought it foolish not to acknowledge that there were still real world considerations and limitations, however unfair.

Shelby said I was terrible when I reminded her that when we were their age, the kid would have simply been labeled a 'fag' long before any actual proof of his sexual orientation was known, and social stigma would have prevented him from ever having been in a position to date someone like our daughter to begin with.

I told her I was just pointing out that meeting and dating used to require more social interaction than it does today. Common interests used to be dictated by real world life experience and not just issues and viewpoints you agreed about online.

Things change and maybe what it means to be a man, or even just male, has changed also, but I just hadn't been able to help be suspicious of the boy, not least of all because of the gradual change in my daughter from the bubbly, positive, former cheerleader, who wouldn't leave the house without spending time on her appearance, to the increasingly plain, demure, and dour person she became after they began cohabitating.

To each his own, but you don't date a ten and work to turn them into a six. It wasn't 'gaydar,' so much as Occam's Razor, being gay was the simplest explanation for him not appreciating my daughter for the outrageously hot piece of ass that she is.

Obviously my bias goes well beyond just parental pride, so I suppose this is the point in the story I should come clean about my less than fatherly feelings for my daughter. Always a pretty girl, in high school it became impossible to ignore Shaylee's beauty as she blossomed and her sexuality became ever more pronounced. She quickly evolved from a pretty girl to a beautiful woman and though never hyper-feminine, my daughter very obviously enjoyed being a woman, she willingly accentuated what she had and led with it.

By the time Shaylee turned 18, she was the embodiment of female physical perfection, thick long blonde hair, heart shaped face, big brown-green eyes, full lips, thin neck, large breasts, trim waist, amazing ass, and impossibly tone, sexy legs. I was happy my daughter felt comfortable enough to express her femininity and quickly found myself looking forward to seeing what she wore each day.

And Shaylee seldom disappointed, once an adult, her clothes seemed to instantly go from form fitting but decent, to tight and suggestive.

My wife and I still had a relatively healthy sex life at that time. Though both busy with life, we still made time to be intimate whenever we were both home, but I'd always needed more than that, and had always had a healthy daily masturbation habit that my wife was well aware and supportive of. Of course Shelby certainly was not aware that our daughter had gradually become the target of my libidinous lust, and the near sole focus of my fantasies by the time she graduated.

Despite my taboo desires, I'd been able to draw a line and maintain the boundaries between father and pervert. I was 'Dad' the vast majority of the time: loving, proud, encouraging, and protective. However, 'me time' became a rabbit hole of all things incest, with Literotica becoming my go-to for inspiration, especially once Shaylee was out of the house.

All this said, and despite my wife and I growing apart in the intervening years, when Shaylee moved back in I had no perverted agenda, no hope or expectations that something might actually 'happen' between us, I'd never misconstrued my taboo fantasy with any mutual interest on her part. My concern really was for my daughter's well being, I assumed with time and support she would rebound and be in a hurry to resume her adult life away from her parents.

Once back home, it thankfully only took a couple of weeks for Shaylee to emerge from her cocoon of emotional pain. Little by little, day-by-day, she rejoined the world and started to blossom into the girl I had missed so much.

By the one-month mark she was nearly back to her old self and seemed genuinely excited for the future once more, announcing she intended to start looking for employment and an apartment.

As her father I was glad to see my daughter rebound from her breakup and regain her emotional footing and past optimism. I impressed upon Shaylee that she should take time to relax and get her feet back under her before making any rash decisions.

I admit my offer was double sided, I did think she should consider her options and not rush into a new job, but after having had Shaylee back home for several weeks, I found myself selfishly, desperately, wanting her not to move out again any time soon.

I have my own business servicing national retail chains and restaurants. Fortunately I'm able to leave on-site work to my employees, allowing me to focus on maintaining costumer relationships and the occasional emergency that might require my involvement. The result is I have a flexible schedule and work from home most days and the thought of Shaylee spending the summer lounging around the house and pool, like she had when she was younger, excited me more than anything had in a long time.

Shelby is a pharmaceutical sales representative and travels a lot. She will often be gone three to four days each week, and occasionally longer. It's been like this for many years. I keep expecting her to grow tired of the travel but Shelby is a big personality who genuinely loves meeting people. She is also a top earner and every time she has hinted that she might be ready to cut back, her company simply throws more money at her. The result of my wife being gone so much and me being home so much was Shaylee and I were alone together most of the time.

Shaylee slowly started to open up to me about her and Chris' relationship and eventually got around to probing me about her mother's and my relationship. She isn't dumb; she knew there was distance and tension between us. I explained the basics and reiterated my hope that we would work things out.

My newfound sentimentality had me convinced it was finally time to tackle cleaning out the storage unit I had rented after my mother's death. Neither my siblings nor I had been up to going through her belongings at the time, so I had everything moved into storage, wrongly assuming we would reunite to tackle the task at some point in the near future. That was nearly a decade and many thousands of dollars in rent ago.

I was relieved when Shaylee volunteered to help after I announced my intention to begin the task the following week.

It took us several days over a couple of weeks to work through it all, and Shaylee surprised me with her enthusiasm and work ethic. If anything, she was more intent to complete the task than I actually was, and she seemed to enjoy going through the boxes and learning about her grandmother and texting with her aunts and uncle asking about items and coordinating packing and shipping things as requested.

We came across boxes of my old music; cassette tapes and LPs from my teen years that I had thought were long lost. Shaylee got a kick out of holding up my heavy metal albums and reading off some of the song titles as I tried to impress upon her the band's musical bona fides and my concert going experiences.

We also found a box of my 'achievements,' report cards, awards, trophies, scrapbooks, and the like from my childhood that Mom had dutifully preserved. All this lead to a lot of questions and sharing about my younger years, and I was grateful for my daughter's interest and the opportunity to grow so much closer.

I was also grateful for her confidence, not only was she curious, she wasn't afraid to voice her opinion, and I was learning nearly as much about her as the days went on.

"Oh boy...." Shaylee snickered one day as she held up a Hustler magazine. I was genuinely surprised when I recognized the cover after so many years and the fact that the box my daughter opened apparently contained my once treasured collection of adult magazines. Like the albums, I had thought them long ago lost to time.

Shaylee giggled as she flipped through several magazines like Penthouse and Club International, turning them sideways to look at the centerfolds or holding up a picture for me to see as she made a comment about the styles of the time, a lot of big hair and even bigger fake tits, as was popular when I became a man.

When Shaylee questioned why my mother would have kept my porn collection, I could only shrug and admit I assumed she had thrown it all away.

"But she knew you had all this stuff," Shaylee asked, seeming confused.

I understood the meaning behind her question and replied honestly, "Yeah, it wasn't a big deal. I was 18, she never made an issue of it, I didn't have to hide them or anything. Actually I remember a couple of times I came home to find Mom had cleaned my room and dug them out from under my bed and stacked them all neatly on my nightstand," I shrugged.

"Wow, I wouldn't have thought Grandma was all progressive like that," Shaylee chuckled. "So you had to like, go in a store and buy these, right?"

I nodded.

"Weird," my daughter grimaced.

"Yeah," I agreed, and explained about bookstores and newsstands having had 'adult sections.' "Your generation is lucky, you don't have to look some old man in the eyes as you buy stuff about... um, naughty stuff," I stammered. I'd started to say '... as you buy stuff about older women or incest, both interests of mine at the time, but I caught myself.

"So what are you gonna do with these," my daughter asked about the box, which I realized very likely contained those incest and mature themed magazines and digests I had bought back then.

"Oh, we can just throw them in the dumpster," I responded. Part of me wouldn't have minded a trip down memory lane, but I wasn't about to admit that to my own daughter.

"Really, well can I have them then? It's kinda like a time capsule," Shaylee offered.

"Oh, um... okay... yeah I guess. You're an adult... so... I mean... Hey, just... you know... don't judge me okay, you kinda just bought what was available back then," I stammered and lied, hoping claiming limited options would explain the more hard core and incest stuff I assumed was certain to be in the box.

I also felt my cock lurch, imagining Shaylee masturbating to the same porn I had.

My daughter just smiled and set the box aside, "Cool. Thanks, Daddy."

The unit was climate controlled, but not exactly cool and we tended to end up sweat soaked each day, with Shaylee's already tight shorts and t-shirts desperately clinging to her curves. I got caught looking a few times, but Shaylee seemed unbothered, she would just smile and carry on.

We started to spend more and more time together after that, finding reasons to do stuff together, planning a day trip each week, often going to lunch, and watching TV or a movie after dinner most nights.

I took Shaylee around to see where I grew up and went to school, and the places my friends and I would hang out. She insisted I play the music I listened to back then. It was the most fun I'd had in a long time and my daughter's interest in, and acceptance of me, as well as all she was sharing about herself, was exciting.

Shaylee's personality blossomed and her growing comfort being back home quickly became obvious. Most mornings she would pad around in a t-shirt and panties, most days she would lounge around the pool in a bikini. I was in heaven and was surprised by my lack of guilt considering I was indulging my lust filled imagination about my daughter with her in the house.

We were sharing more and more, Shaylee taking an interest in even more parts of my life, asking what books and movies I liked, what 'new' music I liked, what my childhood memories of my parents were, what my childhood dreams were, what things I still wanted to do, regrets that haunted me, as well as sharing more and more about herself as well.

She informed me she had fooled around with her college roommate, and briefly considered she might be gay, before deciding she wasn't, but confessed this was how and when she met Chris.

Things were starting to make more sense. I wanted to ask if she was bi-sexual, had she been with any other women, but stopped myself, thinking if she wanted me to know she would tell me.

Shaylee surprised me with tickets to see one of my favorite bands, whom I hadn't seen live in almost 15 years. I think she had more fun at the concert than I did. I hadn't been a popular kid in school and the first time I saw the band it was me and two metalhead junior high friends tagging along with my older cousin and his friends. A bunch of long-haired headbangers with no girls in sight, except the ones trying to get backstage. So reliving this experience with my beautiful, former cheerleader daughter on my arm, over 35 years later was pure enjoyment.

I think all the attention and approving looks Shaylee got from the mixed age crowd added to both our enjoyment that night, and Shaylee seemed truly carefree for the first time since her teen years. My fun-loving, excited to experience new things, happy to get attention from others, little girl was fully back, and the realization filled my heart.

It had been so long since my wife had shown any interest in me as a person, and not just as her husband who was expected to hold up my end of our domestic partnership, that I couldn't stop myself from sharing, and ultimately over-sharing, with my daughter. I suppose it was my age, but my daughter's eagerness to share in these memories bonded us in new ways, making us closer than I thought possible.

I had always been able to keep a wall between my naughty fantasies and reality, but the new closeness and comfort with my daughter was chipping away at those boundaries I'd always relied on.

So many nights were spent, just the two of us, stretched out on our big sectional sofa watching TV. It wasn't long before Shaylee began to cuddle, pressing herself into my side, with my arm around her, just as she had when she was younger.

We had done this so many times over the years and I had always been able to keep my dirty thoughts about her separate. There was 'dad time,' when I was her parent and acted accordingly, and there was 'me time,' when I was a man and free to let my imagination run wild, but now, after years of minimal 'dad time' and nearly limitless 'me time,' I found myself really struggling to maintain that boundary.

I was well aware my judgment was compromised, but the more time we spent together and the closer we got, the more apparent it was my daughter didn't need her father as much as she needed a man. A real man. A proper lover. My little girl was a full-grown sexy woman and it was obvious she had been neglected emotionally and physically.

I really did try to be good. I tried to be a father, to simply be there for her, but my mind drifted, my view of Shaylee shifting between daughter and adult sexpot more and more often with each passing day.

We'd be casually snuggled in shorts and t-shirts watching TV, (Shaylee stopped bothering with the shorts before long, opting for panties and t-shirts that got smaller and smaller as the days passed) and my eyes would wander over the womanly body pressed into mine and I wouldn't think of the little girl that needed a Band-Aid, or to be taught how to ride a bike, or how to drive, or encouraged to push herself and do her best.

That little girl was now an adult in every way and I found myself reacting more and more like a man and not a parent. My internal barrier still existed, but it was crumbling quickly and I found myself willingly conceding to its eventual failure.

Looking over Shaylee's curves and miles of bare skin and feeling her softness and heat pressed into me, I couldn't help imagine the sexy woman my daughter was now sucking my cock, watching her lips stretch and slide up and down my hard pole. Or I'd imagine Shaylee dancing and stripping for me as I watched and told her how sexy her body is. And of course I imagined fucking her, my little girl looking up at me and moaning 'Daddy,' as I sank deep inside her as she begged me to fuck her and make her cum. Which, of course, I would, over and over.

I'd shake my head and internally admonish myself for those thoughts. Feeling my cock growing and my heart racing, I'd try and force myself to refocus on what we were watching, but the thought of the pleasure we could give each other, the pleasure we weren't currently getting, but very obviously both desperately needed, was always there.

One night as I was making popcorn, preparing to settle in and watch TV when Shaylee came downstairs in a polo shirt and panties. The shirt was short, not even falling to her waist, and tight. All the buttons were undone and there was a mile of cleavage on display, and as usual, she wasn't wearing a bra. Her thin bikini style panties hung on her hips and only almost covered her plump cheeks. It all left so little to the imagination, especially the front of her panties, pressed into her folds, making a very defined, very arousing, camel toe. It was an unmistakable escalation in our... comfort together.

I guess I was gawking because she looked at me and offered, "What?" Then she fake pouted and smiled, "It's so hot Daddy, I just want to be comfy. It's okay, isn't it?"

Who was I to argue with such logic?

The show we watched featured an ongoing story line of a younger man sending 'dick pics' to an older co-worker with whom had had a wildly inappropriate relationship until he attempts to do so during a meeting where he accidentally responds to a text from his boss father with a picture of his cock meant for the woman. Shaylee and I rolled with laughter for several minutes as the scene and fallout played out in hilarious fashion.

After a bit Shaylee asked casually, "Have you ever sent anyone a dick pic, Dad?"

"I might have sent your mother one or two over the years," I responded honestly.

Shaylee snorted and asked, "Just one or two?"

"Never really was my thing, and I'm not sure she'd be too receptive these days," I responded without thinking.

"Sorry, Daddy," Shaylee offered and snuggled into me.

My breath caught in my chest as she pushed her barely contained breasts into my side. "It's okay," I tried to reassure her, wrapping my arm around her and kissing her head.

"I tried sending Chris stuff," she offered, mentioning her fiancé for the first time in weeks. "Did Mom ever send you naughty pictures?"

"Yeah, back in the day," I respond.

"Did you like getting them," Shaylee asked.

"Of course, who doesn't like getting sexy pictures from their girlfriend or wife," I answered with a question, immediately realizing my error.

"Chris... like nothing worked... he just always seemed embarrassed... guess I should have known..." Shaylee lamented.

"Sorry, Sweetie," I offered, feeling my cock inflate imagining my daughter texting racy pictures of herself.

"He never liked it when I was naughty... I'm so dumb," she stated flatly.

Pulling her tighter, I assured her, "Hey, every relationship is different. It's hard to know what works and what each other wants. Even after years together. You tried, that's the most you can do."

"I did try. I used to send him all kinds of dirty stuff hoping to figure out what he would like, but nothing ever... turned him on, I guess. I can't believe I wasted three years on him," my daughter bemoaned.

I raised my knee to hide my growing erection imagining what kind of 'dirty stuff' my daughter sent her gay boyfriend hoping to elicit a horny response. "Well, if you're going to spend three years trying to make a gay man straight, your 20's is the time to do it," I offered with a chuckle before adding, "I'm really surprised it didn't work, Honey."

Shaylee giggled, then after a moment said, "Thank you. I should have sent the pictures to you, I bet you would have appreciated them."

My body tensed, "Too bad I'm your dad," I chuckled, worried Shaylee could sense my less than fatherly thoughts.

****

Thursday.

I was sipping a Bloody Mary in the airport waiting for my flight home when my phone dinged, a text from Shaylee with a pic. We had been texting regularly for several weeks, usually funny social media posts, Shaylee had a thing for funny animal memes and vids, but we were texting nearly constantly now, the last two days, as I came to wine and dine the home office of one of my customers.

Shaylee had started sending me a picture of herself each day in whatever outfits she wore, but my heart skipped as I opened her latest text to instead find a picture of my daughter in a very tiny bikini and a big, bright smile. A mirror selfie that wasn't at all inappropriate except that she was sending it to her own father.

I had to wipe my clammy hand before typing my simple reply, the heart emoji.

I quickly got a kissy face emoji in reply; followed by, "have a safe flight."

I had been making these types of trips once a month or so for many years now, visiting customers, popping in to bring a catered lunch to the troops, followed by a brief 'status meeting,' and then taking the powers that be out for dinner and some fun. A short day there, a short day back, a long day in-between. Like anything, no matter how innocuous, the more you have to do something, the more tedious it becomes, even expensive meals and 'cigar bars' with people you kind of like.

I'd had in mind wanting to hire someone to take over this part of my business for a long time, but as it is ultimately the most crucial part, it's hard to trust it to someone off the street and none of my employees has ever shown the aptitude to rise above the jobsite end of my business.

Sitting through the meeting this time I suddenly had a revelation: Shaylee. She would be perfect for it; she had a way of fitting in with anyone if she wanted to. These trips were customer relations; the meetings were perfunctory, an excuse for the trip. With her BA in Marketing, Shaylee could be Sales Manager, and it would look very good on her resume even if it were temporary. I could afford to pay her. I could trust her. And... it would be an excuse to be around her regularly even if she moved out of the house.

The more I considered it, the more convinced I became. Just imagining Shaylee calling on my customers felt like a relief, a weight lifted. Selfishly I hoped she would accept the position and I hoped it would be because she wanted to do the job and not just to placate me, but I'd take what I could get, anything to prolong us being in daily contact again.

My imagination ran wild on my flight, picturing Shaylee dressed sharply, but with naughty lingerie underneath, flirting and schmoozing with customers. I couldn't help imagine the two of us traveling together, making use of the privacy, making use of hotel suites, and disappearing for days at a time under the guise of business.

Shelby, picked me up from the airport, despite my assurance I could take an Uber. Working from home for the week to spend time with Shaylee, I knew her offer meant she 'wanted to talk.' We stopped for lunch and she informed me she thought therapy wasn't working and she wanted to stop for a couple of months and see how things went. I confessed my relief and agreement and we assured each other that we still loved each other and wanted to find a way forward.

Shelby seemed lighter than usual at lunch, a little more carefree, unburdened somehow, I knew better than to probe, if she wanted me to know something she would tell me. On the way home she told me she was glad to have Shaylee home again and thought it was good for me, that I "seemed happier" than she had seen me in a long time.

"Shaylee is doing so much better isn't she? Being home has been good for her. Maybe it's good for all of us... She's a beautiful girl, isn't she?" my wife fired off in succession as I nodded in agreement.

I broached the subject of offering Shaylee the job, expecting a negative reaction, but was surprised Shelby was all for it, "... that's a great idea, Sweetie." I sadly realized it had been a while since she called me, Sweetie. We agreed to wait a few more weeks before offering Shaylee the job. She deserved the vacation.

That night Shelby initiated sex for the first time in a long time and we fucked hard, I couldn't remember the last time she rolled off me and got on her knees and begged for it. My wife buried her head in the pillow to muffle her moans as I pounded her pussy.

****

Monday.

Shelby had initiated sex every night she was home. The last time we had sex four nights in a row was years ago. It had certainly helped thaw the ice between us somewhat; some of the tension was gone. I couldn't help wonder if things were possibly finally changing or getting back on track for us, but of course she had to leave again that morning.

I listened from my home office as Shaylee went through her usual morning routine of some kind of breakfast and coffee, and despite four days of sex with my wife, I still couldn't help be excited knowing what was coming. A bright, sunny day, I knew my daughter would soon be poolside in one of her bikinis. Her bikinis started small and quickly turned tiny and somehow seemed to still be getting even smaller as the weeks of summer wore on.

My phone dinged and I picked it up expecting some work related text only to find a picture from Shaylee. A mirror selfie again, this time she was looking over her shoulder showing her nearly bare backside, little strings crossing her back and neck. The strings around her waist supported a tiny triangle pointing down and turning into a string that disappeared between her bare cheeks.

Holy shit. I enlarged the picture and stared at the perfection of her incredible posterior.

DING.

A frontal selfie. Two small triangles sitting atop two large gravity-defying breasts. Another triangle between her legs, hung on two strings slung over her hips. Shaylee had her tongue out and face scrunched up.

Fuck me. I replied: "wow"

Shaylee: "thought you'd like (big smile)"

Me: "(heart)"

I studied the pictures hearing Shaylee make her way outside. Once sure she was likely settled for a while, my shorts were quickly around my ankles and I was frantically pumping my cock, flipping between her pictures from that past week.

Shaylee spent all day outside, finally coming inside when I started making dinner. She paused in her barely-there bikini, displaying her greasy and very tanned body, and asked if I needed help. As tempting as it was, I refused, and watched my daughter ascended the stairs, her bare ass jiggling with each step.

Shaylee came down after her shower in a cropped t-shirt and panties. We settled on the couch, eating and watching TV.

She helped me clean up after we ate and I couldn't help staring as she loaded the dishwasher, the bottoms of her plump tits peeking from under her short top as she bent over.

Rising suddenly, closing the dishwasher and turning, "So, Succession or Severance," Shaylee asked with a big grin. She obviously knew I was watching her, and she was obviously unbothered.

We settled in and watched a couple of episodes, Shaylee snuggling into her now usual position, breasts pressed into my side, my arm around her.

"You got pretty brown today," I offered, looking over her nearly bronzed stems pressed against my pale tree trunks.

"I know! It was such a nice day all day," she responded. "I'm going to have crazy tan lines," she chuckled.

"Nothing wrong with that," I told her.

****

Tuesday.

We'd made plans to do lunch, and Shaylee kept to herself that morning.

Approaching lunchtime my phone dinged.

Shaylee: "need your help (smiley face)"

DING. A picture, Shaylee in front of her mirror again, this time topless, one arm across her bare breasts, and wearing short shorts. DING. The back view, the shorts just covering her cheeks.

Before I could respond, another DING, another picture, Shaylee, arm still hiding her nipples, in a tight, very short skirt, stretched tight across her thighs, miles above her knees. DING, the rear view, the cloth straining, stretched across her glorious, barely contained buns. The side of one of her breasts was fully visible as she twisted to look back.

Shaylee: "Which?"

Trying to be funny, "Both! (smiley face)"

Shaylee: "(laughing face) youre paying for lunch, you get to pick"

I was struggling to maintain some semblance of propriety, her offer too genuinely exciting. Nervously I typed, "oh boy...." - "um... the shorts" - "(big eyes)"

Shaylee: "(smiling face)"

Shaylee wore a form hugging t-shirt and flip-flops with the shorts. She had her hair pulled back and wore aviator shades. My daughter was so fucking hot. I had a hard time keeping my eyes off her during lunch, as did the staff and patrons of the local seafood spot. Two grouper sandwiches and two long necks dusted, Shaylee suggested we get a couple of salads to go, to have for dinner later.

I had Shaylee drop me at home as she wanted to go shopping. She returned at dinnertime, arms full of bags.

"I'm afraid to ask how much that cost me." I jokingly observed.

Shaylee just giggled knowing I had never refused her shopping trips when she was growing up. She headed up to her room saying, "I'll be right back."

We picked at our salads as we watched TV.

"Movie or more TV, Daddy," Shaylee asked when the episode ended.

I got up to take our containers to the kitchen, "Movie. You pick," I told her.

Shaylee went to the bathroom while I grabbed two beers and plopped back on the couch, seeing she already had the movie ready to play. When she came back, my daughter stood in front of me and completely casually undid her shorts and shimmied out of them, leaving her in thong panties and t-shirt, before laying down with me and starting the movie.

I could really get used to this, I thought.

****

Wednesday.

DING. My hand was shaking as I excitedly checked my phone. I'd been counting the minutes since I heard my daughter get up.

Shaylee: "need you opinion"

A picture, Shaylee's nude backside in the mirror, thin white lines of pale skin across her back and hips, a small white triangle pointing down between her bare cheeks contrasted with her tan.

Shaylee: "are tan lines sexy?"

Me: "yes" I answered honestly, unable to parse my response, then adding "(panting tongue)"

Shaylee: "lol okay (winking face)"

DING. A picture, Shaylee facing the mirror, her bright white bald mons squeezed between her tan thighs, one leg in front of the other, hiding her sex. The crook of her arm covered one breast but the other was bare, cupped in her free hand. A bright white triangle of skin overlay her pink-brown nipple and areola. She had a big smile on her face.

Shaking my head, I tryped, "omg baby" - "VERY sexy"

Shaylee: "I'm glad you think so"

Unable to stop myself I typed: "sooo... what if my answer was no?"

Shaylee: "lol (smirking face)" - "i was going to ask if you minded if i lay out nude (blushing face)"

Jesus fucking Christ. My whole body was vibrating. I couldn't think of an acceptable response.

Shaylee: "what would you have said?" - (monocle face)"

Me: "lol. well... you're 25 and I hope you know this is your house too" - "you should do what ever makes you comfortable"

I felt a pang of guilt for punting responsibility back on my daughter, but only a slight pang.

Shaylee: "(heart) x 3" - "love you daddy" - "(kissy face)"

Me: "love you too. so much."

I sat dazed at my desk, staring at Shaylee's photos, my mind aflame with inappropriate thoughts. Not least of which was how much I wanted to see my daughter naked.

I wasn't sure how much time went by before my phone dinged again. I felt like a nervous kid checking it. A selfie from Shaylee, by the pool, laying on her stomach, her smiling face and bare back and bare ass arched in the air, all in frame.

Me: "(big eyes)"

Shaylee: "sure you don't mind?"

Me: "its fine baby, and don't worry Ill stay inside and wont look" - "enjoy the sun (sunglasses face)"

Shaylee: "thank you daddy (heart)" - "but dont be silly. you dont have to stay inside just because I'm naked. its no big deal"

I stared at her reply for what seemed like several minutes before another DING. Shaylee: "and you can look all you want"

I sat shaking. I tried to process what was happening. Playing devil's advocate. Rationalizing. Making excuses. Etc... My mind was a whirlwind of perverse imaginings and even more perverse justifications as I kept looking towards the window. I could get up and go and look through the blinds and she would be there. Nude.

I settled on getting something to drink and made my way to the kitchen. Thinking I was not being too obvious, I glanced her way, seeing her nude body through the glass sliders, still on her stomach, her head flat and turned away. I quickly got myself a glass of orange juice and paused to take a good look. My heart thundered in my chest and my cock swelled. Her perfect body, shiny with lotion and sweat, glistened in the sun. I wanted to see the front so badly.

That evening Shaylee came down in a big t-shirt hanging halfway to her knees. We ate dinner and I couldn't stop myself trying to get glances under the shirt, curious if she was wearing panties. She caught me looking and I quickly offered, "You got a lot of sun today."

"Yeah, maybe a little too much," my daughter acknowledged, pulling and tugging on her shirt.

"Sore," I asked.

"Just a little. Do we have any of that aloe stuff," she asked.

My pulse racing, "Yeah, it's in our bathroom, want me to get it?"

"If you don't mind," Shaylee smiled.

I got up to head upstairs to my bathroom, when I got to the top I heard Shaylee coming up behind me, asking, "Can you bring it to me in my room?"

The large bottle of green goo in hand, I took a deep breath approaching her wide-open bedroom door, announcing myself as I walked through the doorway to find my daughter nude, face down on her bed, looking back at me with a big smile.

"You don't mind putting it on me, do you, Daddy," she asked as if it was a perfectly natural, everyday occurrence.

"Nope," I answered simply and proceeded to pump some of the thick gel onto my hands. "It's going to be cold, Princess," I warned my daughter.

Shaylee giggled and then stiffened when I started to rub the soothing gel onto her back. She quickly relaxed again and sighed as I spread the gel around. I couldn't remember the last time I had touched her like this, more than a touch or grasp or even a hug. I realized, as intimate as out discussions had become since she moved back home, this was the most intimate we had ever been, her naked in her bed, uncovered, my hands sliding slickly over her perfect form.

I worked my way up over her shoulders and back down past her ass and down her legs. I lifted a leg to massage her foot.

"Mmm, that feels so good, Dad," my daughter told me.

I suspected she would like a foot massage; it had always been a favorite of her mother's. Why had I stopped doing it for my wife?

"Don't forget my booty, Daddy," Shaylee announced as I finished her feet and moved back up her legs.

I didn't say anything, I simply palmed my little girls bare bottom, working more than an ample amount of aloe gel into her supple cheeks.

Shaylee stayed relaxed and giggled as I assured her pinkish-brown cheeks were equally soothed.

"There you go, kiddo," I announced, playfully slapping her ass.

"Thank you, Daddy," she told me.

My heart thundered as I pondered what was next. I knew I should have gotten up and left, but I didn't. I couldn't. I couldn't force myself from her bed, and her nudity.

"So, did you look," Shaylee asked with a giggle, her eyes closed, head still on her crossed arms.

My brain went into overdrive, like Final Jeopardy, the seconds musically ticked away in my head as I was unable to think of an acceptable response. What is, 'Yes, I did, because I'm a pervert,' for a billion dollars, Alex.

As the music in my head ended, Shaylee twisted her neck to look up at me with raised eyebrows.

"I did," I answered.

Laying her head back down, she asked simply, "So?"

"So," I questioned in kind.

Shaylee giggled again, as if I was being silly, "Did you like what you saw?"

"I saw a very beautiful girl, there was nothing not to like" I told her, my, hand still moving over her back for no reason other than to keep touching her, the gel long ago having seeped into her skin.

"Did you see everything," she asked casually.

"Nope, just your booty, you were on your stomach," I said with a grin, giving her ass a playful squeeze.

Shaylee smiled and tilted her head towards me, "Want to see the rest?"

"I'm your dad, you know," I told her, unsure of my own intent, even at the moment of truth. Torn between being fatherly and being male.

"I know. I don't care," Shaylee informed me simply.

A moment passed between us. It might as well have been a lifetime, or a millennia, such was the universe shifting momentousness of those few seconds as her words hung in the air.

"Want to see," my daughter asked with a big smile.

"I do," I admitted.

Shaylee turned over unceremoniously, barring herself completely with a big smile.

I let her see me take my time to look her over, head to toe. "You're so beautiful baby," I told her, stopping myself from automatically reaching out and grabbing her plump tit.

My daughter watched my hand stop mid air, before meeting my eyes and saying, "Dad, it's okay, I want you to. You can touch me. Like... everywhere."

Her permission passed over me like I'd been baptized in wickedness, and I felt calm, relaxed, confident, and horny. It surged through me, a palpable physical need I hadn't felt in years. We were no longer being coy, no longer pretending we didn't both know what the other wanted.

I pumped my hand full of gel and smiled, "Guess I better finish the job then."

My daughter smiled and watched me spread the green goo over her body. I took my time enjoying the view, the feeling, and her reactions. I watched my little girl squirm when I pressed her thighs wide, my palms sliding closer and closer to her blossoming flower. I watched her vaginal lips pull apart, sticky and wet. Her excitement filled my nostrils.

My hands moved up over her hips and stomach and up her chest, I paused and looked to Shaylee to give her one last chance to change her mind, Shaylee met my eyes, smiled and nodded. I watched as my daughter closed her eyes and sighed when I cupped her breast. Any last pretense of propriety was lost to history when I pinched her turgid nipple between my thumb and finger.

"So perfect," I observed, pinching her other nipple, my palms full of my daughter's fat tit flesh. I smiled seeing the look of tense pleasure on Shaylee's face as she smiled and groaned, twisting her head, pushing herself into her pillow. God, she was beautiful, and god, she was horny.

I moved one hand up her chest and pressed along her neck, tracing her jawline until I pushed my thumb against her lips. Shaylee looked at me and mewed, wrapping her thick lips around my thumb and sucking, her eyes locked on mine.

My cock lurched, if she needs something to suck on, I can give her what we both want, I thought withdrawing my wet thumb and smearing it across her cheek.

I stood and told Shaylee, "Get on your knees," as I pulled my shirt off and undid my shorts, letting them fall and kicking them away as she knelt before me. My hard-on bobbed inches from my daughter's face, her eyes focused on it. "Open up," I told her.

Shaylee glanced up at me with a naughty smile as her mouth opened and she wrapped her fingers around my erect flesh followed quickly by her thick lips, her warm, wet tongue licking around my cock head as her hand started to slowly pump my shaft. My daughter looked happy sucking my cock, content, self satisfied, not unlike when she would best me at a game or competition when she was younger.

"That's it baby, suck Daddy," I told her, my fingers brushing hair out of her eyes before laying my hand on her head. She was starting to put a lot of effort into it, slurping on my dong like it was candy.

God she's good at this, I was thinking when Shaylee pulled back and offered, "Jason liked when I did this, I don't know if he was imagining I was a guy or what," she said slapping my cock against her outstretched tongue before continuing, "but when he closed his eyes I could tell he went somewhere else. So did I, I'd imagine I was sucking someone else's dick. Usually yours."

Her confession took my breath away and any reticence that I felt, any worry I was taking advantage of my little girl's physical and emotional needs evaporated. I pushed her head on my cock and bucked my hips sending my cock into her throat. Shaylee's hands went to my hips and she looked up at me with eyes full of tears as she latched her lips around the root of my cock. "So fucking beautiful," I groaned putting my other hand on her head, holding her still as I pushed into her throat as far as I could, before pulling back, the head dragging along her tongue almost to her lips, before pushing back in again.

Drool flowed down my daughter's chin, trickling across my scrotum, as I fucked her face. The noises her throat made were unreal, hotter than any porno. My little girl deep throating my cock was the sexiest thing I'd ever seen or felt, and I felt my orgasm rising fast.

"Fuck," I gasped, pushing Shaylee off my cock, a long thick string of spit stretching between us that she hungrily sucked back into her mouth before spitting it forcefully onto my cock and attempting to inhale my erection again. I had to stop her, pushing her head back.

Putting one foot up on the bed I leaned into her, dropping my hanging ball sack onto her face, "Don't forget Daddy's balls."

Shaylee enthusiastically bathed my balls, switching back and forth between them while she stroked my swollen tube and moaned, smiling as her eyes stared at me, up past my swollen genitals hanging in her face.

"Do whatever you want to me, Daddy. I want to be your naughty girl. Use me," Shaylee gasped between using her mouth on my testicles.

I grabbed her hair and told her to open and pushed my cock back into her mouth, "Suck it."

I watched her lips mold themselves to my shaft as her mouth traveled up and down my shaft. "Fuck, you look so sexy sucking dick, baby," I told her.

Shaylee pulled off me with a big smile, "I love your cock, Daddy," my daughter beamed, tilting her head to lick my length from every angle, making a very naughty show of it.

I took my hard-on and held it up against my stomach and pushed my daughter's head down, "Get in there, lick all of it," I told her feeling suck and lick my taint, her tongue swiping at the edge of my asshole, her lips hungrily sucking at every inch. I moaned and threw my head back enjoying my daughter's very willing submission.

I pulled her head back and Shaylee looked up at me with wide eyes full of hunger. I took my cock and playfully slapped her with it several times, watching as a big smile spread across her face and her tongue and lips attempted to capture my pole.

I pulled my cock back and smacked her cheek with my hand, "You're a dirty little girl aren't you," I asked severely, watching my little girl gulp and nod enthusiastically. I stood over her and let a large ball of spit fall from my mouth to hers, as she swallowed I pulled her to her feet and leaned in to kiss my daughter passionately.

I held my daughter tightly in my arms, our nude bodies pressed against each other, our hungry lips and probing tongues wet and purposeful.

Without warning I broke our hungry kiss by pushing Shaylee back onto her bed. She plopped down and watched as I knelt between her legs and began tenderly kissing up he bare thighs. I didn't have to tell her what to do; my daughter spread her legs wide and scooted her ass to the edge of the bed presenting me with her soaking, spread vagina, glistening with her excitement and need. I dove in taking a long lick, ingesting as much of her flavor and smell as possible.

I made love to my daughter with my mouth, licking, lapping, flicking, sucking, slurping... eating her pussy like a starving man, listening to my little girl moan and groan and beg and cuss and writhe and shake. Her pussy was so beautiful and so tasty and her body so responsive, I could have stayed there forever.

I'm not sure how long I spent between her legs servicing her, but when I withdrew my fingers and gave her one last sucking slurp, Shaylee was winded, gasping for breath, flat on her back, arms wide.

I crawled onto the bed, laying on top of my daughter and kissing her deeply as my hands grabbed and grasped at her. Shaylee moaned and kissed me back, her breath ragged, "Holy shit, Dad," she said, breaking our kiss. She looked down and saw my hard cock ready, "Are you gonna fuck me now," she asked with a serious, questioning look.

"If you're ready," I told her, kissing her forehead.

"I'm so fucking ready, Dad," my daughter said, and I felt her hand grasp my cock. "I know it's our first time, Daddy, but I'm so fucking horny, don't go easy on me okay, we can make love later," Shaylee told me, looking up at me with big needy eyes as she pulled my cock into her groove.

"God, baby girl, you're so fucking sexy, I'm dying to fuck you. I've been dying to fuck you for a long time," I confessed, watching my little girl smile up at me.

"I'm your whore now, Daddy. Fuck me like a real man. God, please just fuck me," my daughter begged.

I did, I fucked my daughter; I pushed myself into her slick heated opening and drove into her until our crotches met. We both groaned, finally joined together. Despite her plea, it started tenderly, almost gentle, my cock sliding out before pushing back in, but we were on fire, lust and passion surging through us as we each sought connection and pleasure in the flesh of the other.

Shaylee welcomed each increasingly hard thrust with desperately grasping hands, and breathy, moaning encouragement, and soon we were properly fucking, my rock hard cock seeking the comfort of her soft wet pussy. Again and again and again I slid in and out of my daughter, her insides grasping and hugging as I pushed and plunged.

Soon we were fucking like animals. We were animals, mammals seeking pleasure, and bonding, and chemical release as we banged our genitals together.

Joined physically and emotionally, our breaths ragged, we climbed the ladder together, attempting to become one, one being, one soul, a single feeling.

The sounds of our sin filled the room, Shaylee's bed slamming into the wall, the wet slap of our sex, we grunted like beasts until our mutual climax arrived and we cried out in glorious release, collapsing together as our bodies heaved and spasmed and our fluids combined in a primal genetic cocktail.

We lay joined for several minutes, gasping, catching our breath, and recovering from the intensity.

"Fuck, that was good, Dad," Shaylee smiled up at me as I pulled out of her. We both winced as my cock left her body, the physical separation of our tender genitals was painful, but the emotional bond left behind was overwhelming.

"You're amazing, baby," I told my daughter, leaning in for a tender kiss.

"I've always wanted to be fucked like that, I'm glad it was you, Dad," Shaylee told me as we kissed again, wetly and deeply.

Finally breaking our embrace, "I want it doggy next, Daddy," my daughter informed me with a naughty grin, "anal too, all my holes are yours, now"

I rolled onto my back and blew out a big breath and shook my head with a chuckle.

"What," Shaylee questioned, rolling into my side, her arm on my chest, her smiling face inches from mine.

"You're a naughty girl," I smiled.

"I'm gonna be so bad for you, Daddy. I want to do everything, no matter how nasty," she informed me with a wink.

I suddenly realized I had offered myself to my daughter as her full time lover, the thought made me both happy and anxious, I did feel a pang of guilt for cheating on my wife, and knew there was no way she wouldn't become suspicious at some point and probably soon.

I looked up at the ceiling, "Shit."

"What's the matter, Daddy," Shaylee asked, concerned.

"Your mother," I said to my daughter, part question, part statement, hoping she understood.

Shaylee just stared back at me with a big grin spreading across her face.

"What," I asked.

With a giggle, Shaylee informed me, "You eat pussy almost as good as she does, Daddy."