Steamy Affairs(Erotica)

Once again you were encased with your daughter in a womb of hot water. Seeing it flow over her naked form was like travelling back in time, to moments spent watching her mother jump in and out of waterfalls. Yet, there was also a sense of something better here. Your wife had danced naked in the spray purely for her own love of the sensation. Your daughter seemed almost to direct her every movement at you, as if each curve of her form was a gift she offered your eyes. Here, cut off from the outside world by that wall of water, you finally felt safe to truly appreciate her beauty. From pointing nipples on small, soft breasts to slender hips just beginning to fill out into those of a woman, she was perfect. A flower caught just at the moment it was opening to the world.Content is property © NôvelDrama.Org.

She rinsed the remaining semen out from between her tits and flashed you a dazzling smile. “There now. Much easier to clean up. I think you should use me whenever you feel the need to shoot a load out Dad… It’ll save us a fortune on tissues at least.” Her giggle was cheeky but proud, that of one first learning the joy of dirty thoughts and lewd words. “Whenever you like, you don’t even have to ask. Just whip it out and spray all over me!” She came close to you, reaching out a hand to just idly lay a fingertip or two upon your cock. “And if you ever need some help… I’d be more than happy to. It’s probably about time I got some practice with one of these… you know… for educational purposes… Wouldn’t you much rather I was safe with you than playing around with the idiot boys in my classes?”

Still, words failed you. As if assenting to her calmly laid out logic would damn you to it, yet refusal might break the spell of this miracle. You helped her wash, running a sponge diligently along every crease and crevice she instructed you to. You let her do the same for you, basking in the extended period she spent chasing foam around your genitals, closing your eyes and letting the sensations take over. Then you both got out. Wrapped each other in fluffy towels and retired to your own rooms. Each shut apart by one thin wall as the evening slipped away to night.

You couldn’t sleep. Tossing and turning at the thought of what had happened today. At the thought of her lying not 10 feet away. By some ungodly hour of the morning you were half-crazed with horniness. You just had to see her. Had to confirm such a creature was truly your daughter, not a dream you’d lived in all these years. The door to her room was ajar, as if left that way just to invite this visit. Yet she was asleep. Sprawled out upon her bed with covers kicked askew, her pyjamas ruffled up to reveal a bare stomach… and a hand still trapped down their waistband. You tiptoed closer, till you could see the rise and fall of her chest, hear the quiet hiss of her breaths. In the silver moonlight she was a picture, an artwork, a frozen image of erotic perfection. Pornographic publications would have paid a fortune just to stand where you did now, to steal this softcore scene and sell it to the baying masses.

Look, that was all you had meant to do… but now you found a quivering hand reaching out to lift her top, bunching it up to reveal her chest. Your other reached down to find your body’s greatest source of discomfort. You drew the traitorous thing out and began stroking it as you watched her. She moved a little in her sleep, but did not wake. Turning more onto her back her pink lips drifted open a little more, murmuring something unintelligible. Something that could almost have been “Daddy…” if you dreamt at it hard enough. Were you really going to do this? Take up the offer she surely should not have given. Use your closest human connection as nothing more than a dump for your liquid perversions? It seemed too late to stop now, the rising waves of pleasure growing within your clenching fist as her beauty and innocence were laid out before you. It didn’t take long. Within scant minutes you were at the point of no return, aiming directly at those plump little lips. You shot yourself across her bow once more, white trails flashing in the moonlight. Still she did not wake, even as the creamy liquid splashed down and instantly began to cool upon her cheek. You tucked yourself away and fled back to bed, sleeping more soundly than you had in months.

You were eating breakfast when she came down next morning, idly picking at some of the dried substance still streaked upon her face. She yawned and poured herself some cereal, settling down opposite you to munch away. “You took me up on my offer sooner than I thought you would. Not that I’m complaining… ooh it was a funny, fuzzy feeling waking up to find my face all crusty! I wish you’d got more on me than on my pillow though Dad, that’ll need to go in the laundry.”

You mumbled an apology through your toast, but she waved it away. “It’s okay, it must’ve been hard to aim in the dark… Maybe go for my tits or belly next time? Or! I wonder if you could just pop it in my mouth while I’m snoring?! Would I choke? We’ll have to test it while I’m awake!”

The almost scientific enthusiasm she was putting into these considerations was terrifying. Why was she so excited by this? Was she truly just trying to put on a brave face for her twisted monster of a father? Even in this moment she was idly reaching out one of her long, slender legs to caress you under the table.

She didn’t clean up all day, lounging around in her pejays wearing your cum like a badge of honour. It was creepily endearing just how happy she was that you’d used her in such a fashion. As if that night time invasion of her private sanctum was a moment of achievement she’d been aiming at for years. A graduation on her path to womanhood. Throughout the entire day she would pop up every hour or so to pester you: ‘Did you need to get any more out?’ ‘How about now?’ ‘Would you like to masturbate with her during lunch?’ ‘Could she just see what you taste like? Just for a second?’ It was all very wearying, breaking down your resistance by the pure fact that, deep down, you didn’t want to resist at all.

Come the evening you were exhausted, simply from trying to play out a sunday in normality. You collapsed into a lounge bathed in red twilight and turned the news on. Like a circling shark she appeared, as if sensing her moment was here, your defenses were drooping. She stalked over to lie on the sofa next to you, her head on your lap. You made no acknowledgement of her presence. So she didn’t even ask for approval. Light fingers simply began to play over the fly of your jeans, tiptoeing round the moment they plucked it open. Once your manhood was free it became a plaything, a source of endless fascination and experimentation. Fingertips traced its length, crept down to its balls, entwined gently squeezing nets up and down it. A wet tongue finally found its moment. Delicately reaching out to the tip, then following those fingers guidance, slipping up and down and around. You simply sat there and tried not to feel like an Egyptian pharaoh or mafia drug lord. Sat upon a throne so corrupt and unquestionable that your own child would dedicate herself solely to the exploration of ways to pleasure you.

And pleasure you she did. You tried to focus on the usual cavalcade of tragedies and comedic fallacies the anchor lady unveiled, but were lost in a world beyond their coverage. Your daughter played you like her first recorder, finding the notes that stuck by running through an avalanche of curiosity. She licked at you, lapped at you, tickled you, tapped on you. She set her lips astride you and gently nibbled. She sucked at the head as hard as she could, then blew bubbles of saliva and precum along your shaft. She took you in her cheeks and held you there, storing you in those wet, warm chambers like a chipmunk. She kissed your balls and sucked on them, giggling as the hairs tickled the roof of her mouth and the weight of your cock fell against her face.

All the while and through one tantalising, sensual experience after another you came to realise one true over-arching fact: She loved this. She was happier than you’d seen her in years, even before her mother left. She looked only as she once had on shining christmas mornings, when a new toy had been unwrapped and it was obvious this one would be her favourite for untold years to come. She tried swallowing you deeper. Orientating her mouth so that she could gulp you down into the back of her throat. You felt the tip of you reach that tighter passage… but be rejected. Spluttered back up as she gagged and choked. You glanced down in concern, but your determined child didn’t even turn away from her task for a second. She drove her head back down, forcing your length just a little further in before once again jerking back up in a fit of drooling coughs. You tried to reach out a hand to stroke her hair, to console her. But she was already drawing another great breath and descending once more. You tangled your fingers in her soft hair and tried to indicate that this was not necessary, but you already knew how stubborn she could be. A lighter hand reached up and enlaced itself on top of your own, applying insistent downward pressure. She wanted you to force her down onto you, to utilise her own father’s strength to bypass her body’s natural reflexes. You were worried you might hurt her, worried you might suffocate her. Yet at the same time the pulsating feeling of her throat struggling to hold you was intense and incredible. That little hand continued insisting: deeper. Deeper! It was an order you couldn’t refuse.