A Swiftly Changing World

Emily thought about it for a minute and then shrugged. "Okay, yeah. I guess I would."

"Well it's the same way with fiction. Fiction imitates Life, honey. Some call that a tragedy, some call it dramatic license. I call it Life, unfolding within the realm of fiction. I don't always WANT a character to die, but if that's what the story calls for, I have to write it. And, yeah, sometimes it's difficult as hell. Sometimes it's a breeze. Each case is different, just like each story is different."

"So if you were writing a story about us," my daughter began, "is this the path you would have us take?"

I sighed. Sometimes there are things that a person simply cannot explain until they experience it for themselves. Writing a story is one of those things. Oh, sure, you could sit there and drone on for days and days about theory and technical rules for writing and whatnot, but the defining thing which makes a story so real to its audience just can't be summed up into words. "Sweetheart, attend me carefully: any author who tells you that he or she is 100% in control of how their story unfolds is lying through their teeth. More often than not, a writer gets inspired to write something in totally tangential ways- sometimes it's a movie clip, or a child running across the street, or a computer crashing. I can't tell you how I'd write our story, if I was the author making it up as he went along. It doesn't work like that. Sure, I'd have a general idea of where things were headed and I'd try my best to stay true to that, but the stuff that happens between the first paragraph and the last... well... it's as much a surprise to most authors as it is to the readers. And sometimes it's disappointing. Mostly, though, a writer will put down what feels 'right' and follow his or her instincts all the way through. Forcing it, I know, comes across badly and reads like a tech manual. But when it just pours out, it's like... I don't know..."

"Sex?"

I smirked at that analogy. "Usually, yeah. You know you're ready to do it, but you're not always quite sure how you'll get there. And even when you're doing it, you sort of know better than to push the envelope too far or the mood will get wrecked."

"Hmm," my daughter answered pensively and then took another bite of her pizza slice. After chewing a few times, her mouth still full, she said, "Okay. Your turn."

"For what?" I asked.

"I asked you a personal question, now you get to ask me one."

I nodded and said, "Okay. Not to sound like my professional pride has been hurt or anything, but why haven't you read any of my other books?"

"Wow," Emily said with surprise. "Didn't expect that one. I figured you would've asked me something about my love life or something." She paused to consider the question. "Well... I guess I never read them because I always sort of resented them, in a way."

That struck me rather oddly, to hear that. "You did? Why?"

"Because the time you spent working on them was time you spent away from me and Mom," she answered sagaciously. but with such a surprising amount of casualness that I wondered if she'd answered this question before, to someone else. "I respected that it's what you do and all that, but I always sort of held out some long hope that you'd put down the writing sometimes and just hang out with me or take Mom out on a date."

"Interesting," I said slowly. "I guess I owe you an apology, then, huh?"

Emily shook her head, her long brown hair dancing across her shoulders. "No, not really. After thinking about it some, I guess I'm as much to blame. If I wanted to get closer to you, I could have just read some of your work. The writer being found in the story and all that stuff, y'know? But I was so wrapped up in my resentment for it that I never stood back and saw the forest for the trees. You're a writer, it's what you do. I can't hold that against you any more than I could hold it against a construction worker for, I dunno, laying concrete. It's your job."

I nodded over to the bookshelf in the corner of the bedroom. On the bottom shelf was a row of my books, all personal and mint editions that had never been read. Mostly they were put there for decoration, I guess. I didn't put them there, Jessica did, but I didn't complain about their presence, either. "You can still read them, you know. I wouldn't mind. But if you really want to know anything about me, honey, all you have to do is ask."

"I know," Emily replied. "But there are some questions that can't be asked or answered with words. But don't worry: I'll read them soon. All of them. And if I still have questions, I'll try to ask them personally."

"Hm," I mused. "In a sense, and I know you're not actually trying to say this, but in a sense, it's kind of like I've been a bad father or something. So... the apology still stands. I'm sorry if I accidentally neglected you somehow."

Emily reached out to me, brushing her hand on my cheek in a loving way. "That's sweet of you, Daddy, but I don't ever want you to think that way. You've been the best possible father a girl could want. You've been tough when you needed to be, but soft all the way through, even when you WERE being hard. And you never really neglected me. You just had a job to do, which put food on our table. So don't worry about it." Her hand slid under my chin and our eyes met in a solemn gaze. "I mean it, Dad. Don't worry."

I gently took my daughter's hand in my own and kissed it lightly. "Okay."

The color in my daughter's cheeks rose quickly and, strangely enough, she looked away, her eyes cast down at the floor next to the bed. We were quiet for several long seconds, the pizza and even the sex distant from our minds. I watched her patiently, curious to know what she was thinking. Finally she smiled, her eyes still focused on something far away. "I remember the day we put this floor down," she said wistfully. "I was fourteen and Mom was working a double at the hospital. We both came down with something and you decided to call a sick day for both of us. You'd been working all week on that floor and we decided we'd finish it together. It wasn't difficult, either, was it? We got it done pretty quick." She paused for a second again and then laughed lightly. "I remember you telling me that the adhesive was the most expensive piss-poor high you'd ever gotten."

I smiled at the memory of it, too. "Yeah, that flooring adhesive cost me $100. And the most I got out of it was dizziness and, later, a headache. But I remember that day, too. Hmm... can I confess something, Emily?"

"Sure, Daddy. Anything."

I took a deep breath. "Try not to think poorly of me, but that day... there was a moment when you were applying the adhesive and I was waiting to lay the flooring tiles... I crouched down behind you to watch. Remember that?"

Emily closed her eyes, searching her memory. "Yeah... I think so. You told me I was doing a beautiful job of it, right?"

I nodded. "Yeah... well... it wasn't the adhesive which was holding my attention then, honey. You were on all fours and I crouched down behind you because... well... Oh, God, honey, your ass was so small and tight and looked so perfect at that angle. I just wanted to, y'know, get behind you and visualize what it would've been like to..." Now it was my turn to blush profusely.

"To fuck me from behind?" Emily finished for me. I nodded in reply and she smiled wickedly. "I knew. It sort of turned me on. I knew you were looking at my ass. Part of me was, like, 'Ew! Gross! My dad's ogling my ass!' but another part of me was, like, 'Yeah? So what?' In a weird way, Daddy, it made me feel... pretty. And sexy."

"I'm sorry, honey," I said. "You were too young for me to even THINK about that kind of thing. It was a weak moment for me and I shouldn't have done that."

My daughter beamed a smile at me, leaned over the box of pizza and kissed me, her father, full on the lips. Not a gentle or subtle kiss, either. It was a kiss filled with promise and excitement. I felt her tongue probe between my lips and I met it with my own, surprised at how easy it was to find myself french-kissing my own daughter like this. My senses lit up like a Christmas tree and every pore of my body took note of everything I experienced. I was supremely aware of the fact that she was dressed skimpily, ready to be naked in mere moments. My peripheral vision noted the fact that my daughter's heavy breasts were hanging low in her low-cut bodice and that her body was giving off pheromones that would revive an ox from a coma. Our tongues danced wildly for those few precious seconds and our breathing became ragged. I felt my heart rate jump up several beats per minute as I tasted Emily's lips on mine and found myself nearly crazy with desire for her, my once little girl.

Our kiss finally broke and we both parted with a surprised gasp for fresh air, our breathing still hard and rapid, as though we'd just run a marathon, our eyes locked on each other in anticipation of what might come next. Emily leaned back slightly, still holding herself up with her hands, and slowly turned herself around, pointing the perfect twin globes of her ass to me. I looked at her derriere with longing and lust, noting that the crotch of her panties was wet with want and sexual hunger, soaked with her juices so thoroughly that they were utterly transparent. I could see the shape of her hairless pussy lips behind that material and the sight just made me salivate like a wolf- or maybe that was just the pizza, but I'd like to think it was the sight of my daughter's nearly-naked pussy on display in front of me. "Take a longer look if you like, Daddy. I don't mind this time. Look at me, your daughter. This ass and the pussy below it, Daddy, are yours tonight. You can hold it, kiss it, spank it... fuck it- I don't care, Dad. Do whatever you want. You helped create me; I'm yours." She wiggled her hips provocatively at me, craned her neck back to watch at me with a look of unbridled, wanton abandon. "Go on, Daddy. Look. Imagine you fucking me, right now. Touch me. I want you to. I wanted you to, then, but I didn't know how to say it. Now I do. Touch me, Dad."

I glanced down at the pizza box which rested between me and my daughter's delectable ass. It was an obstacle, so I swatted it off the bed carelessly, heard it smack the floor loudly, and reached out to grab hold of my little girl's hips and ass. Her skin was soft and supple to my touch, warmed with excitement and desire as I kneaded her flesh with my fingertips. As I gently squeezed her ass cheeks, I could see her pussy lips stretch just slightly under the thin garment she wore, those soft pink folds winking at me in a delicately teasing sort of way. I pulled her ass in a variety of directions as she cooed and I watched more and more of her increasingly wet pussy reveal itself to me. "Oooooh, God, Emily. You have no idea how much I've longed to... to do this. To touch you like this. I've known it was wrong all these years, watching you grow into such a beautiful young woman and wanting to view you the way any man would. I've kept it all bottled up for so damned long, honey."

Emily blinked at me and smiled with appreciation. "You think I'm beautiful? Really? Even now, when I'm acting like a slut for my own father?"

I looked away from my daughter's upturned ass to her eyes and said with absolute conviction, "Honey, I've ALWAYS thought you were beautiful. Not just because you're my daughter, although that is a factor, but as a man, I can honestly say that you're quite a sight for sore eyes. You're breathtaking, Emily. And that you want to be your daddy's little slut only makes you hotter in my eyes."

Emily's gaze fell slightly to stop at my crotch. Her eyes widened as she saw the erection hidden within my sweatpants. I was hard as I'd ever been in my life, wanting nothing more than to free my tumescent cock and shove it home inside my daughter's pussy, foreplay be damned. "Wow!" she exclaimed. "You're not kidding! That thing looks huge, Dad!" She looked back to my face and asked, "Does it always get that big or is this simply a special occasion?"

I glanced down at my groin and then back at her with a smirk. "Actually, it gets bigger."

"Bigger?" she repeated with disbelief.

"Yeah," I said lecherously. "Right as I'm about to cum your mother swears up one side and down the other that it gets thicker and just a touch longer."

Emily visibly gulped at that and, when she finally found her voice, she said, "Can- can I see it?"

And that brought me up short. So there it was. The Line. The line that I knew, eventually, we would come to. Everything up to that point had been mostly harmless. Risqué, yes. Daring, certainly. Morally ambiguous, sure. But all of it could have been put aside and never touched upon again, if we really chose to. The point of no return had been reached. I knew, at that precise moment, that if I showed Emily my cock, we would most definitely have sex and our fates would be sealed forever as not just father and daughter, but lovers as well. There would be no going back or conveniently forgetting the episode that had been our entire day. I looked down at my swollen member, still hidden behind my sweats, and then back at her with as serious a gaze as I could muster. "Are you sure, Emily? Are you absolutely sure this is what you want? Once it's done, we can't stop or take it back. Are you ready for this?"

Emily bit her bottom lip nervously for a second or two, her mind spinning with possibilities. She eyed my crotch the way a heroin addict might stare at a syringe years and years after kicking the habit. There was definite yearning in her look, but also one of apprehension. She knew, just as well as I did, that this was one of those defining moments in her life, the closing of one chapter and the start of a new one. Perhaps it was wrong of me to put the power of choice in her hands at that time, her being so young and inexperienced. Perhaps I should have taken the lead and made the choice for her, but the truth is that I honestly couldn't decide. The responsible father in me was completely unsure about this whole sordid affair while the male side of my psyche was ready to throw caution to the wind and fuck the hell out of the beautiful young woman in front of me, daughter or not.

The heat between us was almost palpable and I could already smell the odor of her wet sex as it filled the room with its heady scent. The tension was there, too, quietly writhing under all the anticipation of the moment.

Finally Emily made her decision and nodded to me. "Yes, Dad. I want to see it. I want to see the cock that made me." She turned back around, still on her hands and knees, to face me completely. Then she looked up at me, her face just inches from my groin. "Please, Dad. Show me."

"Okay, honey." With that I first removed my shirt and then, as I kept my eyes locked on her face to read her reaction, I started to remove the sweatpants. As the elastic band stretched around my hips I watched her take in a deep breath and hold it. I moved the hem of those pants down past my thighs, allowing my cock to finally spring free for my daughter to see and inspect and I froze there. My cock jumped slightly at the sound of her surprised gasp and then the slow exhale of her breath that washed gently over the tip. So warm and pleasant was the sensation that I had to close my eyes and concentrate on not rushing things right then and there.

"Oh wow," my daughter whispered reverently. "Dad... it's... beautiful! But it looks so big. Will it even fit inside me?" She looked up to me. "How big is it?"

I fished the stats from my memory easily, data that my wife was never going to let me forget. "Eight and three-quarters inches long and five inches around," I answered. "It'll definitely fit if we take it slow at first".

Emily answered, though. "Good. I like a snug fit. I mean, I'm not that experienced to make much of a comparison, but some of my girlfriends' toys were about that big and I loved those," she said. She watched it pulse in front of her rhythmically for a few seconds and then glanced up at me. "May I... touch it?"

I finished taking my sweats off completely and got back up on my knees in front of her, my cock bobbing a few inches from her mouth. "You can do anything you want to it, so long as you don't break it off, honey," I told her. Almost immediately she grabbed the shaft and started to rub it lovingly.

As she stroked my cock, Emily looked up at me. "Anything?" she asked. I could tell exactly what she wanted to do with it.

"That's what I said," I confirmed. "Care for a taste?"

My daughter smiled devilishly and said, "Don't mind if I do, thank you." And without hesitation, my daughter's lips were suddenly affixed to my cock, her tongue already in action and her mouth sucking the tip carefully. With her mouth completely wrapped around her father's penis, she let out a soft, "Mmmmmm!" which sent shivers up my spine. She pulled her succulent lips off my member and said, "I hope you aren't on a hair trigger, Daddy, 'cause I wanna enjoy this for a few minutes. Okay?"

I smiled sweetly at her. "Enjoy yourself, honey." She didn't need to be told twice and resumed sucking on my cockhead. "And don't worry," I added as I brushed my fingers through her long brown hair. "I very rarely ever cum from a blow job, despite your mother's best efforts. And make no mistake: she's damned good at it. It's just a concentration thing for me- too much sensory overload, y'know? So you please yourself as much as you like and I'll enjoy every minute of it." Her bangs got in the way of watching my own daughter giving me a blow job, so I brushed them aside and watched in deep fascination as my cock disappeared and reappeared repeatedly through her tight lips.

Emily's exploration of my cock was indeed very enjoyable. If you've ever had a blow job, then you know pretty much the basics of it. Emily, due to her age, wasn't quite as proficient at it as her mother, but what she lacked in technique my daughter more than made up for with enthusiasm. I let her suck my cock for a few minutes while she cooed and mmmm'd the whole time. While her face was buried in my crotch, I delighted in the sight of her ass moving and swaying from side to side. After a while, though, it got to be too much of a temptation and I began to stroke my hands down her back as she sucked me, almost as though I was giving her a massage. My hands continued to travel farther down her back, under her panties, appreciating every ripple and inch of her soft skin, until my fingers finally wrapped around her ass cheeks. When I had a firm grasp on those wonderful orbs of flesh, I inched my fingers still further until I could feel the outer edges of her pussy with my fingertips. My daughter sucked my dick hard when she felt my index finger slowly insert itself into that wet, tight pussy hole. So while she sucked me off, I gently fingered my daughter's cunt, the smell of sex and desire getting stronger in the room as each minute passed.

Finally Emily could take it no longer and pulled her lips from my cock with a loud pop. "Oh, God, Dad! I need it! I need it now! Please, please, PLEASE! I've got to get this in me before I go insane!" She gripped my cock tightly in her small hand to drive the point home and looked up at me. "How do you want me, Dad? On my back or should I just turn around for you?"

"First thing's first, sweetheart," I growled and pulled her up to meet me for a kiss. Our lips locked together passionately as our hand started to explore each other's body. Her hands, both of them, moved from my back and found their way to my cock where she continued to stroke me. My hands, however, had a completely other agenda in mind. I held her small ass and pulled her closer to me as our tongues danced once again. I could feel my cock press against her tummy while she still handled it wildly and the fabric of her lingerie crushed against my chest. I broke our kiss to look down at our bodies so close together, her chest heaving beneath the sexy clothing. We breathed heavily for a moment while we took stock of the situation. "I think one of us is way too over-dressed for this," I said and moved a hand to cup her full left breast through the bodice. "What do you think?"