Samantha's Soothing Hands

"No, no, no. This is wrong. Do not think about her. Stop thinking about Sam," he murmured to himself.

Her moans were quiet, just loud enough for him to hear. Samantha probably thought he'd passed right out from the drugs. She had to be thinking about what just happened between them. His rational mind tried to dismiss that. She was a young woman, she had lots to think about besides him. But no, why else would his daughter be doing this right now, except because his cock had her so horny. And knowing that he made his little girl so horny made it impossible to fight his feelings.

Hank grew hard, but he didn't want to make a mess. Instead he just listened and tried to picture it. In his mind's eye, his daughter was flat on her back on the bed, one hand busy between her legs, while the other played with those beautiful big tits. He imagined she had a little bit of a fire bush down there. Her jade eyes were closed and her mouth hung open as she brought herself close to orgasm. As her moans grew louder, it only sharpened the image he imagined.

He was dying to jump out of bed and go to her. Maybe he would stand in the doorway and watch—or he would go in and help, rubbing her sweet pussy with his good hand. Hank knew it wouldn't stop there. He knew if he went into his daughter's room he would end up fucking her. They both wanted it. And he asked himself if that was really so wrong. It wasn't like he was thinking about molesting his teenage daughter. They were both consenting adults. They could make their own decisions. If they both wanted it and enjoyed themselves, he couldn't see the harm done.

Samantha cried out once more and went quiet. He knew his girl had just come. She had done it quickly, which told Hank how horny she must have been. He realized she probably need to fuck just as much as he did. The only question was whether they would really make it happen.

+++

Samantha was on edge from the moment she awoke the next morning. She spent extra time in the shower, and then preparing for the day, trying to put off seeing her father for as long as possible. There had to be fallout from what she'd done the night before. What would they say to each other? She didn't know if they could really go on pretending it didn't happen.

It had been a long night with little sleep. Samantha couldn't stop thinking about what was developing between her and her father. She was finally ready to admit that it wasn't just him, but that made her feel weird and dirty. Hank had the excuse of drinking and taking pain pills—a mix that would confuse anyone. Samantha was clear-eyed and sober. If she was getting turned on by her dad, what was her excuse? What was wrong with her?

She'd tried to tell herself that jerking off her dad had been to help him, but she knew the truth. She wanted to play with that big cock. She was lucky she restrained herself to just jerking him off. It left her so wet that she was touching herself as soon as it was over. Samantha tried to think of anything else, but fucking her dad loomed in her mind as she'd orgasmed last night. She decided she just had to get laid. She was going out after work tonight. Hank would have to fend for himself until she got home. It would be better for the both of them.

To her relief, she found that Hank was still in bed when she ventured downstairs. She left him a note saying she would be late and scurried out of the house.

Hank had been awake. He heard his daughter moving around the house, and he had a painful hard on when he heard her in the shower. He imagined her lathering that sexy, curvy body as the water cascaded down it. He also knew how sexy she would look in her waitressing uniform, so he stayed in bed until she left. He was not prepared to encounter her.

The easy path would be to just go on like last night, and just not acknowledge anything. But he knew pretending it never happened would not work. The feelings he had were no going to go away. Hank was clear-headed in the morning. The pain in his hand had receded to a dull throb and he skipped the pain pill. He wanted his wits about him as he thought this through.

Hank felt like a scumbag. Everything he felt was wrong. What he wanted was wrong. And yet, he still wanted it. The justifications he'd made the night before—when he was high—were still there, but he couldn't support them in the cold light of day. No, now he had to face the fact that he just wanted what he wanted, whether it was wrong or not. And he had to know if his daughter felt the same way. He just couldn't think of a way to bring it up. You don't just say to your daughter, "Hey, how about we fuck?"

When he finally ventured downstairs and found Samantha's note, he was relieved that at least he'd have more time to figure it all out.

The moved swiftly for Samantha. Her tables were busy and she bare had time to stop and think. For a few blissful hours she didn't think about what was going on at home. She didn't have to think about how she was going to face her dad. She was almost disappointed when her long shift ended.

It was early evening when Samantha met her best friend for dinner after a quick change. She kept it to small talk, because she couldn't really discuss what was on her mind. Her friend may have thought Hank was a hottie, but that did not mean she would understand Samantha being turned on by him. She had to keep her dark thoughts to herself.

When they moved on to the bar, Samantha started drinking right away. She wasn't morally opposed to having a one-night stand, but when she'd done it before it was usually because she'd had too much to drink and wasn't using her brain. And that was what she needed tonight. She just needed to find a good candidate.

Sadly, the pickings at the bar were slim that night. Samantha just couldn't find any guys she was really interested, not unless she got really drunk, and she wanted to keep some of her wits about herself. It wouldn't be any fun if she was falling down drunk. But perhaps what really kept her in check was that she found herself scoping out the older guys at the bar. For the first time, she appreciated just how sexy an older guy could be. It wasn't like her at all. Samantha usually went right for the built, hot guy—like a bee to a flower.

Samantha decided to pack it in and stopped drinking so she could drive home. After another hour or so she felt sober enough and headed home. She parked her Jeep in the driveway and braced herself to go into the house. She was still buzzed enough that she knew something bad could happen. Samantha was horny as hell and her judgment was not the best.

The house was dark and still when she came in, and for a moment Samantha thought she was in the clear. The windows were open, but it was still humid. Her dad had always been stubborn about using the air conditioning. She was about to sneak upstairs and take care of herself and go to sleep, but a voice in the dark stopped her on the steps.

"You must have been having fun, Sam. I thought you were never coming home."

Hank could tell by her swagger that his daughter was a little drunk. That was okay, because his pain pills had him feeling really good. He'd resisted drinking, because he didn't want to be out of it when Samantha came home. And now he was glad he did, because his little girl looked smoking hot. Her black skirt was short, her boots came up just over the knee, and her tight sweater was a low-cut V-neck, which a tank top underneath only barely kept decent. He recognized the heart-shaped pendant she wore as the one he gave her for her sixteenth birthday. He didn't appreciate then how it hung perfectly in her cleavage.

"I guess I got caught up. Are you okay? Do you need anything?" Samantha kept her eyes on the stairs. Even in the dark she didn't want to look at her dad. She didn't want to be tempted.

"Yeah, I'm okay. I can do the important things with one hand."

Samantha knew what he was implying, but ignored it. Was he openly flirting with her now? She had to be wrong.

"Come on in here, Sam. I haven't seen you all day."

"I'm really tired, Dad. Unless you need something, I'm going to call it a day."

"I could use a hand upstairs and getting into bed," Hank said.

That was not really true. He was perfectly capable of getting upstairs, but he didn't want his daughter to escape to her room. He could feel the tension. She was just as on edge as he was. If anything was going to happen, it had to be now, before it all dissipated. They didn't need time to come to their senses.

Samantha sighed and went to her father, who was reclined on the couch in a t-shirt and jeans. She was actually impressed he'd gotten that dressed by himself, considering the way he'd been yesterday. He was remarkably more together, but she could still sense of the effects of the pain pills on him. His eyes were wide and he moved slowly. She stood in front of him and he didn't budge.

The only light in the room was a dim lamp beside the couch, but it offered enough light to see her by, and Samantha felt her father checking her out. She knew what it felt like when a guy looked at her that way. Sitting beside him did not help. Her short skirt rode up practically into her lap when she sank into the couch. Hank stared at her pale, exposed legs. Her father's obvious interest did not help. It only fed her own horniness. Knowing that she could have what she wanted—even if it was wrong—made denying herself even harder.

"Are you ready to get up or not, Daddy?" She tried to sound sweet and innocent, hoping it would sidetrack him.

Hank was anything but sidetracked. When she leaned forward, Samantha's tits were hanging out for his appraisal, and that skirt was so short that he almost saw everything. His prick was throbbing, and he longed for his daughter to touch it again. But he was still afraid of the direct approach and tried to think of a way to make it happen again. He didn't know if she would be willing to give him another bath.

"I guess so. Give me a hand."

Her tits were right in his face when she leaned over him and offered her hand to help him up. Hank was so distracted that he almost forgot to take Samantha's hand. He exaggerated his slow movements, and she stayed behind him as they went up the steps, to make sure he didn't stumble.

"Honey, maybe you could draw me a bath again? It's been really hot in here all day," Hank suggested.

"I guess so," she replied reluctantly.

It didn't look like she was going to get off easy, and now Samantha had to consider what she would do if things became heated again. As she followed Hank into the bathroom, she pictured his cock in her hand. She could almost feel it there, and it felt wonderful. She had to stop thinking of her father that way, but she couldn't help it.

Hank stopped ahead of her in the narrow bathroom and she had to squeeze past him just like she had the night before, but this time it felt like her father had intentionally positioned himself. The hard lump in his jeans pressed into her ass, and she was sure Hank wanted her rubbing against him. She felt him staring at her ass when she bent over to start the water.

"Okay, Daddy, the water is running. Can you take it from here tonight?"

Hank pulled on his shirt with his good hand and intentionally tangled it around his body. He could have gotten his clothes off—probably—but he wanted his daughter's help. Samantha watched him struggling for a minute and then gave in and came to his aid. The moment she touched him his cock throbbed. Her delicate fingers, with their painted nails, felt good on his skin. It felt to him like she was taking her time touching his broad chest, lingering on his muscles, instead of just pulling his shirt off.

"There you go," she said, stepping back with the shirt. Samantha only just resisted the urge to press the shirt to her face and inhale his scent. Her dad inherently smelled masculine.

"Thanks, Sam. You're the best." Hank pulled at the button on his jeans, but this time he had legitimate trouble. He'd hardly been able to get them fastened with one hand. He gave it about a minute and then looked up and said, "Sam?" She looked petrified.

Samantha felt like she was moving in slow motion as she reached out and touched the waist of her dad's jeans. She stared down at her hands like they were someone else's. She opened the button and pulled down the zipper. Her hands were trembling. Suddenly, she looked up at Hank and the hunger in his eyes made her breath catch in her lungs. Her thumbs hooked in the waist of his jeans and underwear, and she pulled them both down. Hank smiled, and it was sweet, that loving smile she knew so well, but she sensed a different motivation behind it this time. Samantha knelt down to pull his pants off and his rigid prick almost smacked her in the face.

Neither of them commented on Hank's hard-on, though they were both keenly aware of it. Samantha held onto Hank as he lowered into the water. Every time his shaft brushed her, they both felt the electricity between them.

"You might get that lovely shirt all wet," Hank commented, once again staring at her chest.

"Yeah. I'll go change. I'll be right back." Samantha was dying to get out of that bathroom, even if just for a moment, to catch her breath.

"Just take it off, honey. You're wearing a tank top under it, aren't you?"

"Yeah, I am. I guess I can do that."

Samantha did not want to do that, but just as she always had, she listened to her father and pulled her shirt up over her head. She was wearing a stretch cami under the shirt, not really a tank top, and then a red bra underneath that. the straps tangled on her pale shoulders, and the bra could faintly be seen through the cami, which hugged her chest like a second skin. It gave her father quite an eyeful as she dropped her shirt and knelt beside the tub. It was tough getting down there in the boots, but she didn't stop to take them off. It felt like she was running on autopilot.

Hank wondered at what point his daughter would stop this, or at least question what they were doing. He could see she was just as conflicted as he was, but she wasn't running away. It convinced him that deep down she wanted this just as much as he did—if that was possible.

"I loved it when you washed me last night, Sam. I haven't felt so well taken care of in years. Not since your mother left."

"Mom used to give you baths?"

"Sometimes, when she was feeling particularly romantic. I'd return the favor, of course. I loved giving your mother baths."

"Oh yeah?"

Samantha tried to picture her parents in the bathroom together like this. Would her mom have been naked? Did she jerk him off too, or did her mother blow her father? She just couldn't picture it, although it was becoming easy to imagine her father's cock in her own mouth. She could not keep those wrong images out of her head.

"It was a good excuse to—y'know—touch her everywhere."

"That's, uh, cool." She couldn't help feeling her father was giving her permission to do as she pleased, but Samantha wasn't asking.

Hank waved his hand. "If it wasn't for this I'd be willing to return the favor."

"I'm a little too old to be getting baths from my father," she replied, trying not to think about that.

"You're never too old for me to show you how much I love you, Sam. You'll always be my little girl."

Hearing Hank say that just made everything seem so much more wrong, and so hot. Samantha didn't know what to do. The possibility of doing the right thing—and running—seemed so distant.

"I love you too, Daddy," she said sincerely, reaching for the washcloth.

Hank tried to judge where her head was at by how she washed him. He was afraid she might try to rush through it and get out of there, but Samantha took her time, caressing his body and relaxing him. His cock throbbed so hard it waggled in the water. Except for a couple accidental brushes, Samantha mostly ignored it. Even though he'd jerked off twice earlier, he still felt like he could come at any second. His daughter just had that effect on him now. Samantha purposely did not look him in the eye, and when she finished washing him—most of him—she sat back on her heels.

Samantha's heart pounded. Her cunt was dripping. Her skin felt hot. It had taken every ounce of self-control to stop there. His cock seemed to be pointing at her accusingly. It was right there for her to touch, but she was afraid. She was afraid it wouldn't stop with a hand job tonight.

"Are you done, Sam?" Hank asked softly.

"I don't know..." she stammered.

"It's okay, Sam."

She didn't know what he was saying. Was it okay to stop—or okay to keep going? She didn't want to make the decision.

"What you did last night..."

"Yes, Daddy..."

"It was so sweet, honey. I really, really liked it. I needed it."

Samantha barely found her voice. It was a whisper. "Do you need it tonight?"

"What do you think, Sam?"

She looked at her dad, bit her lip, and looked down at his shaft. It was obvious what he needed. But that didn't mean she should do it. Samantha knew she definitely should not do it. And then she reached for him and his hot meat filled her hand and she was lost. She gripped it tightly and started stroking without thinking.

"Sam...honey...that feels so good," Hank sighed.

Hank watched her play with his cock and almost couldn't believe it. The night before he'd been high and it was all so surreal, but he was in the moment this time. He keenly felt every sensation of his daughter gripping his cock and sliding that petite hand up and down it. She was leaning forward, her long red hair fallen all around her face. Hank wanted to see her. Her brushed her hair back and she looked at him. Her pale cheeks were flushed and her jade eyes were clouded with lust. He could see what she wanted, but she also looked so confused.

"It's okay, honey," he said again.

"Daddy..."

"It's so good, Sam. Please don't stop."

Samantha kept staring at her father as she dipped her other hand into the water and massage his balls. "Is that good, Daddy?"

"Perfect, honey. I think you know what you're doing."

"Thanks," she replied, genuinely flattered. Just like any girl, Samantha craved her father's approval, even in this.

Hank was bold. He draped his hand over the side of the tub and grazed her thigh with his fingers. Samantha jumped, but there wasn't really room for her to escape. Besides, she would have had to release his prick, and he didn't think that was happening. He pushed his hand up under her short skirt.

"Daddy," Samantha warned. She closed her eyes and swallowed hard. Her father should not be doing this. All of her thoughts had been focused on what she was doing to him, she didn't pay much thought to what he might want to do. Sure, he'd groped her tits already, but it had stopped there. What would he think when he felt how wet she was? She didn't want her dad to think she was some horny slut.

Hank was thrilled when he felt his daughter's soaked panties. She was just as hot for it as he was. Now he knew there would be no stopping them. He was going to fuck his daughter. He pressed his fingers to her mound and Samantha cried out, gripping his cock tighter—almost too hard.

"Daddy, you shouldn't."

"Why not?"

"Because...oh...Daddy..."

It was very hard for her to think clearly while her father was touching her cunt. It had been so long since a man had touched her there, and her dad really seemed to know what he was doing. He was teasing, not just going right for it. Despite what she was doing to him, Samantha knew it was wrong for him to touch her there. And yet, she parted her thighs wider.

"It's only fair, isn't it, honey."

"I...guess...oh god!"

Hank found her clit and rubbed it through her silky panties, and Samantha looked like she was going to collapse. Her chest heaved and she leaned forward with her elbows on the side of the tub. She was still stroking him, but he had her too distracted to really get him off. That was okay. Hank was enjoying getting his daughter off. He pushed her panties aside so he could really feel her. Her cunt was smooth, not how he'd pictured it. That was okay. He knew he was old school. His fingers pushed between her juicy lips and his daughter was shaking. He wished he was in a position to taste her. Then he could show Samantha what he could really do. Maybe later, he thought. Two fingers pushed up inside her, and he curved them just so to find her g-spot.