Loss and Discovery

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Through loss, a father & daughter discover each other.
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Fflow
Fflow
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Chapter 1

Beats pounded, bass throbbed, and silvery electronic notes shimmered in the small, dark bedroom. Elyssa, eyes closed, threw her body around in time with the rhythm, her black hair fanning out around her pale face. In her imaginings, the beats were bodies colliding with hers, the bass turning her insides to jelly. Although the shades blocked the light, it did nothing to prevent the room from warming in the late afternoon sun. Her body glistened with perspiration, her thin, tight Morcheeba t-shirt clinging to her slender frame, her sweat-shorts hanging low on her narrow hips.

As the song ended, she collapsed onto her bed, breathing hard and feeling the endorphins flood into every cell. The next song started and, instead of getting up to dance again, she slid her right hand over her belly, up to her braless breast. She could feel her nipple harden as her fingers traced its outline through the thin cotton. She let her fingers play over her body in time with the beat. The music, and her pleasure, built in intensity, and she pulled her scant clothes from her body, reveling in the raw sensuality of her nakedness. She could smell her sweat, and sex, as her fingers flew over her mound, grinding the soft outer flesh into her clit, hidden beneath.

Downstairs, the door flew open and, laden with grocery bags, Carl Lorenz staggered into the house. Kicking the door closed behind him, he made his way through the living room to the kitchen, setting his purchases carefully onto the table. The plastic bag handles had cut deeply into the flesh of his fingers, and he rubbed them. He was aware of the thump thump thump of his daughter's stereo, blasting at ear shattering levels.

Tired as he was, he took the time to stash all the fresh veggies and organic tempeh into the fridge, and hid a steak in the door. He smiled smugly to himself, knowing that his chance of getting away with eating meat was all but nil. Elyssa had a spooky knack for knowing when her dad was cheating on his strict diet. Both of them had committed to a vegan diet for one full year, and December 31st seemed painfully far away. He had to admit, though, that her meals were both tasty and satisfying. At 19, she was enrolled in one of the finest culinary schools which, thankfully, was just one town over. She learned, came home, and practiced on him. Yum.

As he put the last of the groceries away, the music upstairs stopped. He thought, for a moment, that his daughter would come strolling down the stairs, damp and shining from her workout. After a brief interval of silence, the thump thump thump began anew. He walked to the foot of the stairs, hollering "Punkin!! Daddy's home!!!" He knew that she hated being called Punkin, but he just couldn't seem to stop. Knowing that his calls were in vain, he walked up the stairs, eager to see his pride and joy.

Her bedroom was at the top of the stairs. It was filled with posters of bands he'd never heard of, and hunky movie stars of both genders. He could see the foot of her bed and, as he moved forward, he froze in his tracks. There before him was his precious Punkin, completely naked, and masturbating to the pounding beat. Her eyes were closed tightly, and her face was a mask of twitching pleasure. He could see her fingers pressed to her mound, moving in tight little circles. Her other hand cupped one breast, its turgid nipple trapped between two fingers. Her whole body surged with excitement, and he became aware of the scent of her sex. It filled the room, it filled his nostrils, it stuck to his skin. He knew he should leave and forget what he beheld, but he felt frozen. The loss of his beloved wife to cancer last year was still fresh in his mind and Elyssa, the product of their love, writhing on the bed was somehow more than he could take. Wracked with grief, guilt, and desire he forced himself to step back. He walked, not looking back, to the bathroom and closed the door behind him.

Starting the shower, he removed his clothes meticulously: Tie, shirt, belt, slacks, shoes, socks, boxers. All folded neatly on the sink. As the mirror began to steam up, he gazed at his reflection. He was fit, with an athletic body from his years of high school and college sports. His dark hair had not begun to thin, but strands of shining gray had been creeping in. To the steam, to the air, he whispered, "Oh god, Alison. I need you now, more than ever."

As the water streamed down his body he felt the tensions unlock and release. He'd been holding it together, putting on a brave face, for far too long. All at once the loss and pain he'd repressed for months came flooding out of his eyes, washed away with the shower. Sinking to his knees, he sobbed and shook.

Chapter 2

When he finally made his way down stairs, the table was set beautifully and the mounds of fragrant, steaming food made his mouth water. Elyssa moved around the kitchen, cleaning up the pots, pans, and other remnants of the meal's preparation. When she noticed him, she beamed.

"Hi Daddy! I didn't hear you come home!" She came to him and gave him a big hug.

"I'm surprised you can hear anything with your music blasting like that!" He looked stern for a moment, but couldn't maintain the pretense, and smiled. "Kids these days," he muttered, shaking his head in mock disgust.

After dinner they sat, relaxing, sipping Italian coffee and chatting. Elyssa became very serious. "Daddy," she said, gazing at him with her chocolate-brown eyes, "there's something really important that I've got to talk about with you." He sat up, turning his head and body to face her, clearly communicating his willingness to hear whatever it was that she had to say. "This is kind of embarrassing, daddy." A bit of color crept into her pale face. "When you came home today, I was upstairs. My music was loud, and I didn't hear you come in." Carl felt panic rise inside him. Maybe she knew he'd seen her naked, masturbating. The urge to flee was almost overwhelming.

"I'm sorry, honey! Your door was open and I only looked for a moment, I swear!"

Suddenly, Elyssa's face turned beet-red. "Oh my God, Daddy! I was talking about the steak!" It was Carl's turn to blush. He dropped his head into his hands, groaning. The steak! He forgot about the steak. He groaned into his hands.

"Daddy?" Her voice was soft now. "You looked?"

Raising his head, he looked at her through misty eyes. "Yes, Punkin. I looked. You are so beautiful, and you remind me so much of your mom. I miss her so much. I'm so sorry!" A tear broke from his eye and ran down his face.

Elyssa came to him, her slender body in contrast with his muscular frame. She slid into his lap, wrapping her arms around his neck, her cheek pressed to his. "Oh Daddy," she whispered, "I miss her too!"

Together, they quietly wept, mourning their loss. It felt as though something had changed in their relationship, that this intimate release of grief had somehow brought them closer. After a while, when both had dried their eyes, they parted slowly, haltingly. The physical contact they shared was somehow precious now, and it was with difficulty that they finally separated. Carl stood, feeling wrung out. Elyssa stood on her tiptoes to kiss his cheek.

"Good night, Daddy. I love you so much." She turned and walked, slowly, up the stairs.

"Good night, Punkin," he called after her. "Sweet dreams, sweet heart!"

He watched his little girl, now grown, climb the stairs. In his heart he knew that the innocent child he'd raised was still inside her, now supplanted by a life of experience. As she topped the stairs, he whispered, "I love you."

Chapter 3

His hands slid over her supple skin, oiled and slippery. She moaned and sighed as his big hands wrapped themselves around her ankle, pushing up toward her thigh. The muscles of her leg flowed inside his hands, and he pushed up with one sweeping motion. He moved from one leg to the other, then slid his hands up the outsides of her legs, over her hip, and up to her lower back. She was naked, face down, and as his hands moved ever higher, he felt his hardness press down between her ass cheeks. He kneaded her shoulders, bringing louder moans from her lips, as his cock head bumped against the tight opening to her ass. The oil made every inch of her skin slippery, and he moved slowly as she clenched her cheeks around his shaft. Her head turned, looking at him over her bare shoulder. "Fuck me, Daddy! Fuck my ass!"

He sat bolt upright, his body flushed, his heart beating furiously in his chest. He could feel that he'd cum in his sleep, the warm ejaculate dripping over his balls. He turned and put his feet on the floor, partly to feel connected to something solid. The room, still dark, swam around him, and he reached for his bedside lamp. The light was shocking and, as his eyes adjusted, he reached for a tissue. He pulled off his boxers, and wiped away the sticky cum. He felt numb, not even ashamed, beyond shame, overwhelmed by the path that his mind was taking. He knew he had to turn away from it but he didn't know how.

He switched the light off again, and lay back down. His body was still awash with endorphins, and he lay there in the dark, his mind reliving the moment outside his sweet daughter's bedroom. He could see her belly, taught with pleasure, her lips parted, beads of sweat on her forehead, toes spread, her legs pushing down, almost lifting her ass off the bed. Her voice, from the dream, echoed in his head: "Fuck me, Daddy!"

As the rush of orgasm passed, he felt like he was going crazy, that he'd been infected with some sort of sexual virus that was destroying his will, turning him into a single-minded lust-crazed monster that wanted nothing but to possess his beautiful teenage daughter.

He thought of that moment, when they held each other and cried. That was what he wanted: Emotional intimacy. He didn't need to fuck his flesh and blood, his sweet little girl. He didn't need to corrupt the one good thing he had left in his life. No. He'd be a good father to her, and resolved not give in to this madness that had somehow swept over him.

In the darkness, he slipped back into sleep.

On the other side of the house, Elyssa slept. In her dreams, she relived a moment when she'd seen her parents making love. Their bedroom door was open a crack and, although she didn't mean to look, once she had she couldn't tear herself away. She remembered her father's body, so strong, hovering over her mother's more fragile frame. She remembered her mother's fingers reaching up to hold his face, their lips meeting, all the while his hips moving up and down, fucking his beautiful, glistening cock into her mother's upturned pussy. Their moans of pleasure were quiet, their motions gentle and controlled, yet there was a kind of loving passion that made Elyssa's body catch fire and burn. She felt drawn to them, wanting to help them along, to bring them closer to completion, to share in the love and passion they gave to each other.

As she had watched, she reached down, pulling up her thin nightgown, running her fingers over her bare pussy. It was wet, soaked, dripping with juices, and she dipped her finger in, pulling it up over her itchy clit. She moved her finger in time with her father's thrusts, slow and steady. She could tell that her mother was close, that she was going to have a powerful orgasm. She wished, then, that it was her beneath her father, that she was being fucked by him, feeling his beautiful hard cock deep in her womb. He went on and on, far longer than any of her teenage lovers, who barely got inside her before they popped. Her body ached for that kind of love-making. She knew she'd never find it with boys.

She watched, rapt, as her mother began to cum. She pushed up, her legs gripping his hips, pulling him deep into her spasming pussy. She pulled his face to hers, kissing him hard, moaning, her body jerking against him. He wrapped his arms around her, holding her tight. As her mother's orgasm began to subside, he began moving again. This time, her mother began to moan more loudly, his motions sending her body into another intense spasm of pleasure. His hips moved faster, and he drove his cock into her, forcefully pounding against her. Their bodies slapped together wetly, and she could tell that her father was rounding the corner toward his own huge cum. She wanted to see him spurt, to shoot his hot sticky cum all over her mother. He didn't pull out, though. His body went stiff, and he cried out, as his testicles pumped their contents deep into her mother's womb.

In her sleep, she whispered, "Fuck me, Daddy!"

Chapter 4

For the first time in 19 years, there was a palpable tension between Carl and Elyssa. Both could feel it, both knew its source, but neither could bring themselves to confess the dark desires they were both so desperately trying to repress. Their normal morning hug, once easy and loving, had become awkward and nervous. Worse, each thought the other somehow knew of their perverse desires, and assumed that the distance the other held was born of revulsion.

At the table, with the soft morning light filtering through the kitchen, Elyssa sat with her legs pulled up, nursing a large cup of steaming coffee. She sipped, and watched her father move through his habitual breakfast routine: Cereal with low-fat soy milk, whole wheat toast with organic raspberry preserves, and green tea. His white button-down collared shirt, blue tie, and gray slacks did nothing to hide his strong, fit body. His handsome features, though, seemed weary this morning and his quick smile was absent from his face.

Elyssa knew that her mom's death had been hard on them both, but she began to see, just then, how much more it had meant for her father. They had been partners, friends, and lovers for more than the span of her short life. She knew that the loss had been devastating for him, but he'd always been strong, in control, and supportive for Elyssa. She had never, once, seen him grieve until last night. The closeness they shared in that moment of intimacy was something she craved. She ached for it. She felt that beautiful moment slipping away, becoming crushed by something that had risen up unexpectedly.

As Carl munched on his breakfast, he could feel Elyssa's eyes upon him. She was so lovely, with the same fragile beauty his beloved wife embodied. She also had strength of body, mind, and heart. As much as he'd supported her during these difficult months of loss, she'd been there to support him. Her bright light was not attenuated by her sadness. They seemed to coexist without conflict, and this was something he aspired to. His feelings of fatherly love blossomed in his heart, and he lifted his eyes to hers.

"Punkin, I love you so much." Big tears welled up in his eyes, but he didn't bother to wipe them away. "I don't want anything to come between us."

"Oh daddy," Elyssa cried, "I love you too!" She rose and came to him, sliding into his lap and wrapping her arms around his neck. His big arms encircled her, pulling her close. Eventually, he had to leave for work, and she had school, so they parted ways. She watched, from the door, as her father walk to his car.

Chapter 5

Beats pounded, bass throbbed, and silvery electronic notes shimmered in the small, dark bedroom. Elyssa, eyes closed, threw her body around in time with the rhythm, her black hair fanning out around her pale face. In her imaginings, the beats were bodies colliding with hers, the bass turning her insides to jelly. Although the shades blocked the light, it did nothing to prevent the room from warming in the late afternoon sun. Her body glistened with perspiration, her thin, tight Stereolab t-shirt clinging to her slender frame, her sweat-shorts hanging low on her narrow hips.

As the song ended, she collapsed onto her bed, breathing hard and feeling the endorphins flood into every cell. The next song started and, instead of getting up to dance again, she slid her right hand over her belly, up to her braless breast. She could feel her nipple harden as her fingers traced its outline through the thin cotton. She let her fingers play over her body in time with the beat. The music, and her pleasure, built in intensity, and she pulled her scant clothes from her body, reveling in the raw sensuality of her nakedness. She could smell her sweat, and sex, as her fingers flew over her mound, grinding the soft outer flesh into her clit, hidden beneath.

Elyssa smiled to herself, knowing that her father's car had just pulled into the driveway. As she masturbated, she turned her face to her bedroom door, waiting for him to appear. All day, she'd fantasized about this, about seducing him, about bringing him into her room, into her.

That morning, as she sat in his lap, she felt him harden. At the time, she was so shocked that she didn't know what to do. Eventually, he softened again, but the memory of his manhood lingered, bringing a wicked grin to her face. She'd decided, as she watched him drive off that morning, that she'd have him inside her that night.

"Mmm, Daddy!" she moaned, dreaming of his big, strong hands, his muscular body. "Oh god, yes, daddy!" She couldn't hear him, but she saw his shadow at the top of the stairs, just outside her bedroom door. "Oh, please, daddy! Take me!" She cried out, calling to him, practically begging him to come to her. "I want to feel you inside me, daddy!" Her eyes were glued to the shadow, his form frozen. She could feel the struggle inside him, knowing all the morality and guilt that he was struggling with. "Oh god, Daddy, please fuck me! Fuck me now!"

It seemed like slow motion but he moved decisively and, in a flash, he was with her, naked, his lips on her face, her neck, his hot breath in her ear. His body glowed with desire, his eyes burned into hers, all shame and guild abandoned, willingly, to his overwhelming desire. His hands, and lips, were everywhere and her body began to writhe beneath him, responding to every touch. Her skin was slippery, and he became intoxicated by her scent. His hands found their way to her hair, his fingers entwined in it, and he simply looked at her, falling into her dark eyes, his heart filled to overflowing with love.

"Oh god, Pumkin..." A threshold, a precipice, stood before them. They balanced on the edge. For a moment she imagined that he might turn back, turn away from the newly discovered passion they shared. She took her wet, sticky fingers and rubbed them onto his lips.

"Taste me, Daddy. I need you!"

With a low moan he pushed his way down her body, lifting her hips, and pressed his face into her fresh, wet pussy. His lips drew hers into his mouth, and his tongue swirled around her tiny nub. Her slender legs rose, falling on either side of his neck, her ankles pulling him to her. He feasted on her juices as her body began to tremble and shake. He wanted nothing but to feel her cum, to make her orgasm.

"Oh god, daddy! Oh God! You're gunna make me... Oh yes, I'm....."

A wave of pleasure broke over her body, spreading out from her center. Her lips and toes curled, and her fingers clawed her sheets. He moved up, holding her tight in his arms, rolling her over so she half lay on him, his hands sliding over her back, and ass.

"Good girl," he whispered, gently caressing her face. "Good girl."

Chapter 6

She lay, resting, with her head on his right shoulder. Her right hand lay on his chest and, as she began to recover, she began to move her fingers through his curly chest hair.

"You're awfully hairy, daddy," she said softly, her fingers moving lower, over his stomach. She leaned closer, pressing her lips to his. "Mmm, I never knew I tasted so yummy." He smiled, kissing her again. "You're delicious, like punkin pie!"

She giggled at his silly joke, but her fingers moved lower still, teasingly dancing around his rock-hard shaft. She looked down at it, the tool of her conception, and knew what she had to do. She slid her right leg over his pelvis, straddling him. She leaned forward, her weight on her hands, her soft dark hair framing her face, and gazed lovingly into her father's eyes.

Fflow
Fflow
80 Followers
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