For The Want Of A Nail

I remembered how embarrassed we both were when I had to talk to her about

menstruation, sex and brassieres.

I remembered how angry I felt at the boys who took her out on dates,

and how I hated them for what they might be trying to do to her.

I remembered holding her, and saying nothing,

when she had a bad break up with a boy, she thought she really liked.

I remember the day I suspected she had lost her virginity,

and how I had to go to a bar and have a drink and pick up a woman,

to relieve the pain that I felt.

I remember the day; I found condoms in her room,

only to find that two had been replaced with another brand

after she had spent a weekend away.

Memories. Good ones. Bad ones. Painful ones and happy ones flooded into my brain, and I could feel tears trying to escape from my eyes.

How could I even think about what I was considering doing?

I felt dirty and ashamed and guilty for even allowing my brain to be despoiled by the possibility.

I took a deep breath, and mentally gritting my teeth, looked at her.

When we were in the wardroom, she had been wearing the same clothes, but I hadn't noticed how provocative they were.

I had not noticed that her tight vest covered her small breasts that were

obviously unfettered by a bra.

I had not noticed her nipples were obvious under the thin material.

I had not noticed the mound that was her pubic area.

But in the fleeting look that I allowed myself, all these things now registered with me.

It was as if I was looking at her in a completely new way.

She was no longer my daughter, the asexual object of my loins, but a woman.

I looked up again, and this time I allowed my gaze to linger on her.

I felt dirty and guilty and unworthy and ashamed, but I allowed myself to look at her as a female, rather than as my daughter.

I saw her short black hair, and compared it to women I had known in the past. I had always been partial to dark hair. Her mother had jet-black hair, and so had a lot of the women I had dated since her death.

I saw her face with the large innocent eyes that I loved so much. They had long lashes and she normally wore mascara expertly applied to make them appear larger and more open than they really were. It seemed to me as if her orbs had lost some of their innocence and had become inviting and somehow warmer and less unapproachable.

I was not taking any notice of what she was doing, or where she was looking. And I couldn't meet her gaze because I was not yet ready. However by careful mental editing, I was able to examine her face, without actually seeing her.

Her mouth was small, but with generous lips. Her lips looked soft, and comfortable.

Strange choice of words I thought.

How can lips be comfortable?

But I was not prepared to go where my subconscious was leading me.

Yet.

Her neck was long and flawless, and around it she wore a silver chain with a locket. Inside the locket I knew was a miniature of her mother and Evie as a baby, and a more recent picture of me.

My eyes travelled downwards, and I saw the grey straps of her sleeveless vest, and the shapes that were her firm breasts. I could see each nipple standing prominent beneath the cotton, straining against its captivity. I could see the impression of her navel. And at the waistband of her briefs, where they met the end of the vest, a glimpse of white flesh could be seen.

From my examination I could see that she was now sitting upright on the chair, with her arms at her side, and her legs open. I became aware of my own stance, and realised that I had adopted a similar position.

As if we were both on show.

Available for inspection.

I thought that I could see faint indentations on the crotch of her pants, where her pussy hair was. And I almost gagged when I thought that I saw a dark pubic hair escaping.

Her thighs were brilliant white, and smooth and soft. Her legs were long and slender, but I wasn't interested in my inspection going any further down, and I returned to studying her chest and groin.

I must have imagined it, but it appeared as if her nipples had become more pronounced and that the crotch of her briefs were sticking to her even more tightly than they did before.

As if she had become wet and aroused.

I could see the trace of her quim slit through the material.

I became aware that I had achieved a respectable erection, and that the way I was sitting it must be blatantly obvious to Evie.

I looked at her face, and caught her studying the bulge in my shorts.

Her mouth was a little open, and the tip of her tongue was slightly protruding.

It was at that moment that I knew that given half the chance I would fuck my daughter.

It felt inappropriate to allow those words to form in my brain, but I no longer felt guilty.

This wasn't about saving the human species from extinction.

This was about finally allowing myself to feel the lust and physical love for my daughter that I had always felt.

But which had been hidden deep beneath the veneer of civilisation.

Her eyes seemed to hold a similar message, and I realised that she was just waiting for me to do something.

I made a catalogue of my physical attributes.

I was 45 years old, but in fair shape. I had a very slight thickening of the waist, from where I had allowed my six pack to deteriorate because of the pressures of having to work long hours getting the ship ready for to launch.

I was struck by an unrelated thought. I had hidden Evie and myself in with the cattle only yesterday, but in reality it was over 300 years ago that I had done the deed.

I had most of my muscle definition, and it wouldn't take much exercise to return to peak condition.

I was not unattractive.

I had never had any trouble finding willing partners, and they all said that I was ruggedly handsome.

However, the first move had to be mine.

I could see that whatever Evie may have felt that she was going to defer to my judgement.

I wondered if she had reached her decision sooner than I had mine.

And whether that was because she had always allowed herself to lust after my body, or if her younger mind just thought quicker, or accepted things sooner than mine did.

I was not ready to jump up, run the few paces that separated us; jump on her and fuck the living daylights out of her.

At least not yet.

I needed to allow her another opportunity to reject the idea.

So I reached down and lowered the waistband of my boxers, and allowed my erect prick freedom.

As I did this, I watched Evie's face, for any sign of disgust or disinclination.

I had watched my daughter grow up.

I had seen her open birthday presents, and knew every intimate detail of how her eyes expressed her feelings.

I saw joy, pleasure and anticipation in them as I exposed myself.

And if that were not enough of a sign, she quickly pulled her T-shirt over her head, allowing my eager gaze to caress her tits.

And then without stopping she half raised herself on one hand, and pulled down her drawers, before sitting with her legs open, knickers around her ankles, and moisture apparent on her cunt lips.

I removed my shorts and shirt, and she completed her strip, and within seconds we were sitting across from each other, still not having said a word to the other, bare-assed naked.

This was a seduction like no other, and I had no idea where to go from here, so I allowed instinct to take over. My prick was very hard, and it felt very tight, and so I reached down and grabbed hold of myself. As soon as I did so, the pressure seemed to ease, and when I started to stroke myself, I relished the feeling.

We were watching each other's faces.

No longer were we trying to avoid eye contact.

We were revelling in it.

But I saw her attention slip towards my prick when I started moving my hand, before it returned to my face.

In the periphery of my vision I could just make out a half smile on her lips.

It registered that she was moving her hand, and I diverted some of my attention away from her eyes, and saw her trace her index finger around each nipple, before slowly tracing it's way down her flat stomach to her bush, and onto her clitoris.

I couldn't help myself I started to wank faster, as her finger continued it's exploration into her cunt. We were no longer looking only at each other's eyes; we were unashamedly staring at the other's hand working on our respective genitalia.

My hand was gripped tightly around my shaft, and I was moving it up and down in long, fast strokes. She had brought her other hand into play, and whilst one hand spread her cunt lips and allowed herself to twiddle her clit, the other was entering and exiting her wet hole, and running between her arsehole and her twat.

She allowed herself to slump backwards on the chair, legs out and wide, back straight so she could work on her cunt better. I edged forward until I was on the edge so I could wank myself better.

Her hand was vigorously playing with her clitoris, and I swear that she had almost forgotten that I was there, as my hand was bringing myself closer and closer to the explosive conclusion.

I knew that I was getting very close, but I tried desperately to concentrate on other things to hold off the moment of my orgasm. I could see that Evie was nearing hers, as she started to thrust her hips upwards and downwards in awkward concert with her moving hand. I could feel the pressure building, and just as I thought that I was going to lose the race, I saw and heard her begin her orgasm. She was bucking wildly in the chair. Her hand hardly able to keep it's place on her clitoris. She was grunting and making noises, between gasps of heavy breathing. For a second, my excitement waned as I confirmed that she was coming, but once I had assured myself that she was then I allowed myself to let go, and I could feel my orgasm rise, and explode, and I wanked myself off.

Cum spurted out of me, leaping half the distance between us. I managed to grab a glimpse of her face, and saw that she had followed the track of my spunk, with her eyes, as it left my body.

Sated for the moment and winded, I looked at her and smiled, "That was a waste," I said.

Her laugh sounded exactly the same as it always did, unforced and honest, and any remaining pangs my conscious may have felt, disappeared.

I reached out for her and she rose and came towards me and sat on my lap. Her naked skin touching my naked skin produced the most incredibly intense feeling I had ever experienced.

Since my wife died I had never had a long term girlfriend, and only infrequent sex, so my libido was effectively that of a young man, and her smooth arse resting against my semi-flaccid prick produced an effect. She felt the stirring and flung her arms around my neck and hugged me tightly whilst rubbing her lower body against me.

I pulled her head round until our lips could meet and I gave her a passionate kiss.

Her mouth complimented mine perfectly and our tongues fought to invade the other's mouth. Our breathing became laboured and after a moment we broke apart.

I made to stand, forcing her to leap off me, whereupon I completed the movement and grabbed her hand and half ran, half dragged her to the bed. We both threw ourselves on it, and for a second rolled away from each other, but we required physical contact, and so we rolled back, our arms finding their way around each other as we struggled for supremacy.

We came to rest with her lying on top of me, in a tight embrace. I was aware of every inch of her skin, where it touched my body. I was so sensitive of her, that I could feel tiny coils of her pubic hair intertwining with mine. Her breasts with their firm and erect nipples were pressing deep into my chest. I could feel the warmth generated by her groin against my prick. She could feel the prominence of my erection, as it nestled between us like a third person.

She twisted and I let go my grip, so she was able to sit up. Her legs went astride me, and she sat on my belly. I could feel the wetness of her cunt.

She slid backwards until she reached my pubic hair, and started to raise herself, so she could impale herself on my manhood. But I reached out and stopped her. I pulled her towards my face, enjoying each slippery moment as her twat left a moisture trail up my torso. I placed my hands on either side of her waist, and raised her upwards and forwards so that her cunt came in contact with my lips.

First I stuck my tongue out, and allowed it to slide down the length of her cleft. From the folds of skin at the top, to the moist hole at the bottom. Then I curled my tongue and invaded her cunt with it. I could feel the tightness of it, and became harder than ever at the thought that in a few minutes it would be my prick in there instead of my tongue. I removed it and moved it upwards sliding between her cunt lips until it came to her clitoris. I allowed it to rest there for a moment before starting to manipulate her clit.

I licked it and lapped it, and coaxed it out of hiding. I sucked it and nipped it, and made my tongue make complicated swirling patterns around it.

I don't know if she had ever had her cunt eaten before but she seemed to find the experience very pleasurable. It wasn't long before she started to grind her cunt, and rotate her hips, into my face, to increase her pleasure.

I managed to get a glimpse of her face, past the channel which were her legs, over the plain that was her belly, through the pass between her tits, up her swan like neck to her open mouth. She was rocking and reeling, gazing at the ceiling, her eyes almost popping as she was riding the wave of sensation my tongue was creating inside her.

I wanted to be inside her so badly, that for a moment I considered the proposition of turning her and fucking her before she came, but memories of my marriage returned to me.

I don't know if that was a disloyal time and place to think of my dead wife when I was screwing our daughter, but it seemed right, and didn't bother me.

My wife and I had a good sex life, because though we tried for the mutual orgasm whilst having intercourse we knew that it very rarely happened. If we wanted our lust to remain with us, and not to dissipate our love for each other, we had to work at it. Which meant we had to take our orgasms separately for the most part.

She came and then I did.

We explored all the orifices in both of our bodies, but to be certain that we both achieved full satisfaction we did one and then the other.

Like most men, orgasm is a virtual certainty for me. But it was a much rarer thing for a woman, and much harder to achieve. If my need became too great, and I was satisfied that my wife was enjoying the experience, I was not always able to bring her off, before I came. But this seemed to be enough, for her. As long as I gave it my best shot, and was not a selfish lover.

So, much as I wanted to bury my shaft inside her tight cunt, I continued to lick her off until she came. When she did, I thought that she was going to break my neck or smother me. It was an explosive orgasm, the like of which my wife had never achieved. My mouth was already wet from her juices and my saliva but it became even fuller forcing me to swallow. It was salty and rich, and tasted better than anything I could ever have imagined.

She thrust her cunt deeper onto my face, and rocked violently backwards and forwards whilst screaming a wordless cry to the gods. I continued lapping at her clit, until I felt her body start to relax, and then with one swift movement, I twisted her around so she was lying on the bed.

I spread her legs, and climbed on top of her. My prick entered her so easily it was as if we were made for each other. We joined so completely that for a fraction of a second, I didn't know where she ended and I began.

And then I started to move.

Her cunt muscles were tight around my prick.

I could feel her, as she flexed them.

And it seemed to me as if she was attempting to suck me off with her quim. I thrust deep inside her.

Every iota of movement I made into her, created a new and increased thrill of pure joy, until I reached as far as I could go,

and my belly touched hers.

Then with a pang of regret, I started to pull out.

I didn't want to leave the depths of her innermost self,

and so the outward stroke was fractionally slower than the inward one.

When I felt most of my prick had left her gasping hole, I paused.

I could feel her cunt lips spread apart to take my shaft.

The pause was the most exquisite form of self-torture.

Then I thrust myself back in, hard and deep.

I swear that with each downward stroke, my prick grew larger and harder,

if such a thing were possible.

Unbelievably it seemed as if I had re-awoken her spent orgasm

and that she was experiencing another one,

even more powerful, than the last.

I was thrusting downwards.

Each stroke filling my brain,

and removing more and more of my mind,

until finally my whole being was encompassed in the act of fucking

and nothing else.

She had grasped me with her legs,

and was pulling me deeper into her with every stroke,

whilst lifting her hips to push herself further onto me.

We were moving so wildly that I am surprised the bed didn't break,

but it couldn't continue for long.

She was making noises in my ears, and clawing at my back with her hands,

I had a death-grip on the mattress.

My fingers biting deep into the quilting,

as I thrust my head back

and plunged into her cunt.

Finally I could control myself no longer,

and I let out a howl,

almost of pain,

as the spunk erupted from my body.

She made a convulsive arch of her back,

and for a second I was suspended in mid air.

As the whole weight of my body pivoted on my prick inside her cunt.

When I exploded, it felt like I filled her completely.

I don't know if we made a baby that day,

and at the time I didn't care.

I was completely finished.

My strength disappeared in seconds, and I collapsed, happy and sated onto her body.

We lay there for a while. Enjoying the moment. Completely satisfied and comfortable with each other.

I rolled off. Raised myself with my head resting on one elbow, so that I could face her. She turned her head to look at me.

"Alright?" I asked.

Her face broke into a wild grin. "That was great Dad, when can we do it again?"

"Hold hard" I replied, "we better go back and talk to that damned computer, but apparently we have our whole life ahead of us. Plenty of time for me to fuck you again and again."

She looked at me mischievously "and other things" she said. "I haven't tasted your prick yet, Dad."

I laughed with pure joy, and leaned over and gave her a peck on the check.

"Evie, I think that seeing as how I've just fucked you, and you're talking about sucking my prick, I think it would be better if you called me by name.

Calling me Dad seems wrong.

Don't you agree"?

"All right, Dad, I'll try. Sorry. I mean alright Adam."

*(((((300 * 365 days * 24 hours / 25)/ 70) minutes)/ 60) hours)/24 days

300 = number of years in stasis

365 = number of days in a year (ignore leap years)

24 = number of hours in a day

25 = hours between stasis interruptions

70 = number of heart beats per minute

60 = number of minutes in an hour

24 = number of hours in a day