Up on the Hillside with Amber

"Don't you think you should put some clothes on, darling?"

"No, daddy," coos Amber. "It doesn't matter now, does it?"

Jonathon tightens his grip the handle of his suitcase, fingers squeezing the plastic as he struggles against the dark urges his daughter's nakedness unleash inside him.

"Why not?" Jonathan asks as desire swells his cock. He remembers the things they did together that previous time.

"You were right when you said I shouldn't marry him. I couldn't see him for the filthy wanker he is."

"You were too young," Jonathon says. "You're only twenty-one, darling..."

It's an old conversation by now, with everything having been said before, Amber in tears in the aftermath of discovering her husband of only two months has never been faithful.

"Let's not talk about him," Amber says. "I just want to be here with you." She eyes her father and throws a glance at his suitcase. "I want to be safe. Won't you put that suitcase down and give me a cuddle?"

"I ... I don't know if I should," Jonathon gurgles. "Not with you ... well, not with you in the nuddy."

"We've been this way before," Amber points out. "Remember–?"

"Yes," Jonathon snaps, cutting her short. "Of course I remember. But don't you think it was all wrong? For God's sake, Amber, I'm your dad ... I got carried away. I shouldn't have let it get as far as it did. I feel so responsible. I feel like I let you down."

She's relentless as she murmurs, "But I loved being that way with you. And we didn't exactly do it, did we?"

"We might as well have. We got so bloody close..."

"Ah, but we didn't quite get there."

"No, which is why I don't think it would be a good idea to be cuddling you without you wearing any clothes."

"Don't you want to do it all again, though?"

Which was a question Jonathon didn't want to face. He knew the answer was yes, he did want to do it again.

"Just a cuddle, daddy," she purrs, taking the case from his hand and placing it down on the floor.

Jonathon knows he's lost as soon as his arms go around her. He takes in the scent of her hair and the heat of her body.

"Sweetheart," he mumbles, lips at her throat.

"Yes, daddy," she whispers, then offers her mouth for his kiss.

1973

He doesn't know why he can't stop her, but he has neither the will nor the strength. Amber stares at the front of his jeans for several long moments, then looks into his face.

"It doesn't matter," she says with a whisper as she walks to him.

For Jonathon, the universe shrinks. They're no longer up on the hillside. For him it's all about the bubble surrounding them both, reality a separate dimension.

He can see Amber getting down to her knees; Jonathon watches her hand go to his shoulder an instant before he lets her ease him down onto his back.

No, he thinks as he lifts his backside from the blanket, taking his weight on his heels and his shoulders while Amber yanks at his jeans.

Jonathon knows he shouldn't be complicit, even as he's unlacing his boots. He pulls off his footwear and socks, shucking out of his jeans, cock waggling around when he kneels to pull off his tee-shirt.

"Goodness," mumbles his daughter, her eyes set of the long jib jutting up from his groin. "That's a marvellous cock."

It shocks him to hear her say it. Jonathon feels the cold-water slap of surprise, wondering what previous experience of an erect male appendage she can possibly have.

"Don't say that, darling," Jonathon croaks. "It's rude. You shouldn't."

"I'm just a rude girl." Amber stares into his face, her eyes big and round. "And I know who you are, but I still think you've got a gorgeous penis. I can appreciate it, you know. I'm only making a comment."

"Wuh-why are we doing this, Amber?"

The girl looks at him, puzzled. "Doing what?"

Jonathon gulps, his eyes moving over her body. He stares at the wisps of fair hair down between her legs.

"God, Amber," he croaks, "I don't know what it is we're doing."

"Neither do I," the girl says with a shrug and a giggle. "It makes me feel all squirmy," she adds. "It's like I'm being very naughty. I know I really shouldn't keep looking at your cock. But I feel so tickly inside. I can't help it. I want to touch myself."

"Amber! Jesus, no, what the hell are you saying?"

"I don't know," mewls his daughter, blinking as she keeps on staring at his tumescence.

"Stop looking," he says, reaching for his clothes. "This is insane. What was I thinking?"

"Don't!" she cries out, her voice so shrill it stills Jonathon's hand in mid-air. "Don't make this into something dirty. It's my fault; I'm sorry. I shouldn't have said anything about ... about..."

Amber nods to her father's erection.

"...About that. Please don't be angry with me. I'm sorry. Can't we start again? Can I sit next to you so we can look at the view?"

There's a voice inside his head telling him to put on his clothes and get his arse down the hill and into the cottage.

Don't do it, it says. You're playing with fire.

But Jonathon still finds himself sitting side-by-side with his daughter, both of them naked, except for the girl's shoes.

"I'm sorry," she murmurs, leaning against him.

Then his arm goes around her, the touch of her skin under his palms inflaming his need.

Amber gurgles, "What are you doing?"

"You're just so bloody lovely," he breathes, his hand stroking the silky skin of his daughter's inner thigh.

"Oh, daddy," moans Amber, legs going wide. "Are you going to touch me?"

1976

She's sitting on the edge of the two-seater sofa, her father standing directly in front.

Amber looks up into his face, her fist working his length. She says, "I wanted to do this when we were up on the hill," then purses her lips around his bell-end.

"Oh lord, oh no," mutters her father. He boggles down at where she's sucking his cock, a hand working down at his root. "My baby," Jonathon groans. "This is so bloody wrong."

"Shut up, I love it," the girl moans before licking his shaft from the tip to Jonathon's balls. "I'm so fucking randy," she gasps. "I've been waiting and hoping..."

It's the last time he'll put up any form of resistance. And at best it's a feeble attempt. Jonathon looks down to where his daughter slurps at his dick, her tongue enthusiastic as she laps at the big dome, moans coming up from her throat.

"You have to stop it now, Amber. This is too much. We've gone too far this time. If it keeps going we'll ... We'll..."

Her eyes flash with desire as she cranks at his length, a hand going down between her thighs. "What is you want to say, daddy?" she taunts. "Were you going to say we'll only end up fucking?"

"Oh shit, don't say it that way," he groans.

Amber grins and holds her father's eyes with her gaze as she gives his cock-end a slow, lascivious lick. "What if I tell you I want to fuck this time? How about that, daddy?" she drawls. "What about it? This time I want you to put it in. I want you to FUCK me."

"Oh, Amber, my sweet baby girl," Jonathon groans, then shoots a huge squirt of cum in a high arc over her head.

1973

Her fluff is soft under his fingers, his daughter's folds slick with arousal when Jonathan fumbles between Amber's legs, her gasp coming up when he finds her bean.

"Oh, daddy," groans Amber, hips shunting back and forth while she gawps down at herself, chin on her chest.

The heels of her plimsolls rest on the blanket, knees wide apart as the girl gurgles and gasps, blinking into Jonathon's face, eyes glazing over.

He puts a finger inside her, with Amber's head lolling loose, ponytail brushing the grass as she leans back and takes her weight on her palms, arms straight and locked at the elbows.

Amber groans, "Put another one in," then sucks her bottom lip between her teeth. "Please," she adds on a long, drawn out moan while she leans forward to clamp her fingers over her father's wrist.

She holds him in place, grinding her sex onto his hand, snorting and mewling delight into the high summer sky.

Then Jonathon kisses his daughter, his tongue going in between her lips as she gasps into his open mouth.

"You can't put it in," Amber mumbles, wall-eyed with pleasure. "I'm not on the pill. We can't do it, dad."

The girl pulls away from Jonathon's hand, leaving the digits tacky with her essence, her father unable to resist sniffing his daughter's arousal.

"Rub it over my twat," Amber urges her father. She leans back and opens her legs, splaying her sex with her fingers. "Rub it over here," she tells him, the tip of a finger slipping over her clit, the nub all fleshy and pink. "But please, don't put it in. I don't want to get pregnant."

The torture is exquisite agony. The temptation is to throw caution to the wind. It's so difficult not to succumb and simply plunge into his daughter, sinking into her body up to his balls.

In that wild, heady moment, Jonathan is willing to accept the risk of flooding the girl with his seed. He's hovering over her torso, watching her face as it twists into a mask of agonised ecstasy, sobs coming out, her abdomen tensing, her breasts rolling around.

He slips the keel of his cock through her vulva, somehow resisting the near overwhelming urge to slide his whole length inside her.

"Amber, oh darling," Jonathon moans, emotion swelling his throat. "You're gorgeous, so lovely ... My sweetheart, you're so bloody divine."

"Play with it, dad," Amber says on a gurgle, shoving her heels at the blanket. She scoots back from her father and fingers her sex, eyes on the length of his cock. "Let me watch you," she moans. "You watch me at the same time. If you keep on rubbing it over my nubbin, I'll only want you to put it inside me."

"I want to put it inside you," Jonathon grunts, shuffling on his knees towards his daughter.

"No!" Amber cries, a hand covering her sex. "You can't. We can't risk it. I couldn't bear it if you put a baby in there."

So he has no choice but to tug at himself, teeth gritted against the need to force her hand aside and just go at her cunt.

"You're incredible, Amber," Jonathon moans when the girl squeals out that she's coming.

Then he lets it all go. Jonathon gives it all up and submits to the overwhelming surge, his spunk raining down onto the blanket.

"Oh!" Amber yelps when a gobbet of cum lands on her thigh. "Oh God, look at it all." She blasts out a laugh and rolls her eyes, still juddering and moaning as her climax rolls on. "That's so bloody dangerous. If you'd done that inside me..."

And, despite her real-life aversion, Amber's orgasm bursts inside her again at the thought of taking all of that gloop into her body.

*

He's appalled and ashamed, disgusted with himself. Even as his daughter writhes and moans, now the rush has left him and he's purged of semen, Jonathan cannot believe what he's done.

"Amber," he gasps as his daughter continues to shudder and whine. Jonathon sees the blob glistening on his daughter's skin, the disgust rising inside him. "No, oh Jesus, no," he sobs down at the blanket. "We didn't ... We can't have. Shit, please let this all be a dream."

But it isn't a dream, it's completely real, the full horror of sin like a blow to the stomach.

"Stop it," he croaks, aghast as he watches his daughter writhe in her pleasure. "Get dressed. Cover yourself."

Jonathan is up on his feet, acutely aware his cock is waggling around, the damned thing at half-mast, the end dribbling his goo. He bends to tug at the blanket, spilling his daughter onto the grass in a confusion of food and bottles and plastic containers.

"Will you just fucking STOP IT!" Jonathon yells, throwing the blanket over the girl.

"Dad, please!" Amber cries in response, shocked back into the moment.

But her father is having none of it. He's hauling on his jeans, fingers at the zip and the button as he fumbles to fasten himself up.

He gets back down on his knees, stuffing items into the rucksack, mindless to order, just wedging everything in.

"Get dressed," Jonathan hisses, jaw tight as he glares at the girl. "This didn't happen – you hear me?" He points at his daughter, the cords on his neck stark as knife blades as he spits out his next words. "Never mention this ... this ... this aberration to me ever again." Jonathan's hand scythes the air. "Never!" he says, eyes wide, his gaze intense as he stares at the girl. "I never want to discuss this. Do you understand me? Don't talk about it at all. I never want to hear a mention of it, Amber. Not one fucking word..."

"But–" she begins.

"No!" shouts her father.

Jonathon glares around like a crazy man in a crowded place deciding who he's going to stab first.

"I'll be down in the cottage. Come back when you're decent, but," he goes on, a forefinger stabbing the air, "don't you dare try to talk to me about this. Not a word. I bloody-well mean it. Not one fucking word, ever again."

1976

His semen glistens on her shoulder and one of her breasts. Amber smears the stuff over her skin, spreading the glaze over her body while rising up from the sofa.

"Kiss me again," she murmurs. "Like you love me," she adds.

"I've always loved you, my sweetheart," Jonathan replies.

The girl shrugs and puts her hands on his shoulders, rubbing her vulva against one of his thighs.

"Kiss me like you kiss a woman you want to be inside, daddy. Not like a daughter. I want to feel your tongue in my mouth. And this time I want to feel your cock moving inside me."

Jonathon looks at the girl. "You're doing it on purpose, aren't you, Amber?"

"Doing what?" she asks with a frown.

"Teasing me. The way you're speaking..."

"Of course I am, silly," she says with a smirk. "Now please, just kiss me like I know you really want to."

Jonathon's chest heaves as he sighs. "I'm doomed, aren't I?" he says.

"Charming," says Amber, tilting her face up to her father. She scoops the nape of his neck with her hand. "Just fucking kiss me," she mumbles.

1973

If he didn't have the builders coming the following day...

If he didn't need he income from a holiday let...

Jonathon curses and throws the rucksack into a corner of what his mother used to call the parlour, the room immediately inside the front door.

He storms through to the living room in search of something to soothe his torment. Jonathon intends to get totally blootered, in search of a bottle his late-father had put away. The old man's penchant was whisky, the amber liquid burning Jonathon's throat after he pours an over-generous measure into a tumbler. He thinks it best to guzzle the stuff down until he pukes on the floor. He thinks it will all be cathartic, absolving himself of his sin, or at least blocking the horror for a few hours.

"Jesus, that's awful," he coughs, wiping the back of one hand across his mouth. "You deserve to suffer," Jonathon says to himself. "Just drink it."

He dumps the glass down on a low coffee table which sits between two ancient arm chairs, then swigs at the upended bottle, forcing himself not to gag on the unaccustomed bite of the spirit.

"You bastard," Jonathon gasps in response to the taste. "Oh fuck, this stuff is so vile."

He slumps into a chair, the one his mother used on Saturday afternoons while she shouted at wrestling on the television. The bottle goes onto the table, next to the tumbler.

Jonathon stares at the blank screen of the TV, mind going back to more simple times growing up in the cottage.

Three or four minutes of thinking go by before he turns his head to see the whisky on the table. He grimaces and mumbles, "Oh fuck," his stomach turning at the thought of taking another taste.

"Dad?" Jonathon hears from the doorway behind him. "Are you all right?"

Anger rises in a hot tide. Jesus, can't you just leave me alone?

But when he turns and sees Amber's forlorn expression, he softens and feels a rush of emotion.

"Oh, Amber, baby," he moans. "I don't know..."

*

He hears the floorboards creak. Then the latch lifts and the door opens.

"Are you asleep?" she asks, voice low and tentative – as though she's afraid.

Jonathon sighs and blinks into the dark, levering upright in his bed.

"No," he says as mixed emotions come at him.

He should tell her to go away, that would be the sensible thing to do, but then Jonathon recalls in vivid detail what they did up on the hill, and a dark part of him doesn't want her to go.

He senses rather than sees her flit across the space between the door and the bed.

"What are you doing?" Jonathon croaks when the mattress gives under her weight.

"Nothing," she whispers. "I promise I won't do anything. I ... I just want you to tell me it's all going to be all right."

Don't do it. You're a fool if you do. "Get in," Jonathon says, lifting the sheet.

"Are you sure?"

"No," he replies, then feels his daughter sliding into the bed.

Amber moves in close to cuddle her father.

She tells him, "I just want to sleep here with you."

"It will be all right," Jonathon gurgles, stroking her hair, his erection swift and savage beneath his flimsy pyjama bottoms.

"Oh, daddy, you're hard," mumbles the girl after shifting position.

Even though he's aware she can't see him, Jonathon nods. "I know," he croaks. "And I know you shouldn't be here, but I...

"Oh, Amber, I don't want you to get out of this bed."

The bed dips when his daughter rises upright.

"Yuh-you don't have to go," Jonathon says.

"I'm not," she replies. "I'm just taking my night-dress off."

*

"This is torture, Amber," Jonathon groans. "I want to put it in. You're so bloody lovely."

Her confidence soars. Amber knows she has control as she works a slow hand up and down her father's shaft.

"I want you to, too," she tells him, squeezing in closer, her weight on her hip and an elbow while he lays flat on his back. "I could quite easily swing my leg over you..."

Her father groans when she whispers it into his ear.

In the dark, it's easy to say things she wouldn't dare say face-to-face in the light of day.

"...I could slide onto you, daddy. I know it would feel so nice inside me. You're quite thick, aren't you? I know you'd feel good stretching me open.

"But we can't take the risk. I saw what you did up on the hill. It would be madness to let you do that inside me."

"Oh baby," he moans, hips working as he fucks up into her fist. "We shouldn't be doing this. Jesus, you're my daughter. This is so bloody wrong."

"But you don't want me to stop, do you?"

Jonathon groans when Amber's hand moves faster, her mouth finding his, her hair brushing his face.

"No," Jonathon gasps when the kiss finally breaks. "Fuck it," he hisses, "of course I don't want you to stop."

In a surge of lust, Jonathon sits up, a hand going to the lamp next to the bed.

He growls, "Let me look at you, Amber. God, sweetheart, what a gorgeous girl you are."

"You can't put it inside me!" the girl squeaks when her father uses his size and strength to get her onto her back. "Daddy, please, don't do it."

He's knelt between his daughter's thighs, his hands on her knees as he forces her legs wide. Amber puts the protective hand down over her sex, covering herself while she stares at her dad, fear in her eyes.

"I'm not going to," Jonathon says on a gasp.

"Then what–?" asks his daughter, a moan coming up through her chest when her father ducks in to lap at her bean, his tongue finding her clit.

"Daddy!" she squeaks, writhing her rump against the bed. "You're licking me."

"Yes, Amber, I know," Jonathon says, easing down onto his front. "Open your legs. Let me get at you."

His daughter complies, eyes round with shock as she looks down to see her own father lapping her sex.

"Oh yes please. Lick me like that. It's lovely ... Oh God, I love what you're doing."