Transitional Delight

Then like some subtle tidal wave washing him away Kirby suddenly decided to do the opposite of what he'd just been trying not to do and without another thought, took hold of the knot which held the towel closed, quickly undid it, and then gently pulled the towel open; his eyes staring hard into the shadow. He saw nipples, the flat chest now slightly more curved and full due to the sideways angle of the torso, and then he felt the urge to see more.

To see everything.

Getting quickly up on his knees, he pulled the towel open along its length until one edge lay over the front of the couch's seat cushions and the reverse side was folded back against the seat back. Alaina lay there now, covered only in her small briefs, the scanty V of her bikini bottoms.

But to Alaina it was a nice dream; like a warm, gentle breeze wafting over her on some deserted tropical beach. No one else was around, only her footprints in the sand, no matter which way she looked. She turned to face the breeze and her long hair billowed out behind her. She looked down to see what she had always seen: the gentle slope and curve of the cleavage between her small breasts. Her nipples were soft and light brown but her chest was heaving. She had run a long way, but she didn't feel tired.

Only excited.

Raising her head she looked out over the sea. Or was it a lake? White sand seemed to stretch for miles in each direction, between herself and the dazzling glare of the water. She turned toward it and started to walk; the feeling of warm, clean sand between her toes adding to her excitement. She had always been like this, naked and barefoot, and no one cared or thought anything about it. She felt the gentle wagging of her small erection, the slight bumping of her balls against her thighs and was glad that she was the only one here now. She had nothing to explain—not even to herself—and nothing to hide. She was simply herself and it was good enough.

But now the sand rose up on the wind and caressed her thighs. The tingling was pleasant but it made her insides quiver and her cock lift. She took a breath and breathed out, but now the blowing sand was touching her elsewhere: the cheeks of her ass, her knees, the middle of her belly. She looked down and saw the sand circling around her nipples, making them rise and harden. Her skin crawled delightfully and now she was solidly erect in three places—both nipples, and her cock. She had stopped in her tracks, letting the wind caress her everywhere and now something softer than sand, and moist, touched her face. She opened her eyes and could not help but smile at the dream.

Kirby's mind was blank now, blank but for what he was doing. He watched as if from a distance as his hand explored Alaina's flat chest, fingers brushing the small nipples, pinching them gently, then moving on. He gazed at his hand, wondering how he could have been so stupid as to have believed that this—this wonder laying on his couch—was anything but what she appeared: a beautiful, long-legged young woman.

Now he reached up with his other hand, and almost like a symphonic conductor moving both hands independently, he caressed the girl's lovely face while at the same time stroking her beautiful, smooth legs. He touched her knees and throat, ran his hand down along her arm and explored her hip, and then her one remaining piece of clothing infuriated him. It shouldn't be there, he told himself. It was so meager it didn't conceal much, but it was what stood between the lovely half-clothed girl and the completely nude one he wanted. He got his thumb under the waistband of the bottoms and began to pull, but then the girl's hand was there, pushing his away and slipping the thing down herself!

Kirby pulled back, aghast, knowing he'd been discovered. His mind snapped out of its trance and he began condemning himself for having let things get this far. He was trying to think of words he could say so that his son/daughter would not hate him for the rest of her life, but when he looked at the face to deliver the half-developed excuse, he found Alaina smiling at him.

"...here...." she whispered dreamily, and with a simple, quick lifting of her bottom, she slid her bikini bottoms off her butt, lowered herself and raised and pulled her knees toward her chest to remove the thing entirely. Kirby sat amazed, his mouth open again, but his attention was instantly taken by the girl's raised, folded legs and her pointing feet. He reached out and stroked the top of her foot and though she would certainly have lowered her legs again soon after taking off the bikini, she instead held them up, knees almost to her chest now, allowing and enjoying Kirby's gentle touch. She gasped and seemed to come out of her dream a little more but her eyes rolled back as the tingling excitement shivered up her leg.

Kirby now leaned toward the girl's leg—the one nearest him—kissing it, running his hands down ankle and thigh at the same time, his eyes closed in focused delight. He couldn't remember ever having kissed such beautiful, shapely, satiny smooth legs in his life and for a moment he wondered if he'd somehow fallen into a dream. He opened his eyes and looked down and to the side at the slowly thrashing head of the girl.

His daughter.

He waited for the guilt to explode within him, waited and thought about it. Incest. He was committing incest with his own sexy daughter. Alaina.

Now his one hand had moved down the back of the thigh while the other had moved down over the heaving chest and under the front of that same bent-over thigh. He could feel the warm space between leg and belly growing smaller, tighter, but he pushed, reaching out, even as his other hand came around the thigh to join it. But something was there. Material. Fabric. He stopped kissing the knee and looked.

It was smooth and silken in appearance and was small enough to go unnoticed beneath Alaina's bikini bottom, but even as he started to reach for it, the girl's hands both came down. Kirby sat mesmerized as the fingers deftly undid the slender straps, loosening them and tugging at the garment. He wanted to help but knew he'd somehow only wind up getting in the way, so he pulled back slightly to watch.

Alaina saw herself laying in the warm sand but without touching it somehow. She had her legs up against her and though she could feel the touch of the wind all over her, she still felt covered, choked almost. Her body wanted to be free and in moments she pulled and yanked and finally opened what she was wearing, and slid it frantically down and off her legs. Breathing a sigh of relief, free and naked now, exposed more than she had ever been, she now felt the breeze reaching in again.

Somehow Kirby felt a great sense of relief and a strange brand of pride when he saw Alaina's small, semi-erect penis rising up from between her legs. He quickly and gently pushed her legs down flat so the thing would stick up more prominently, but even as he did and the thing started to stiffen, the girl brought her legs up, reached down and pushed her cock back down between her thighs. It was obvious she was more comfortable with it hidden that way but it was also obvious, at least to Kirby, that he wasn't through enjoying her legs. He noticed the cock now jutting up behind her pulled-back thighs, throbbing stiffly with her heartbeat, but now that that question had been answered, he closed his eyes and leaned forward again, his lips gently making contact with the girl's silken knees once more.

Alaina gasped softly. She had never felt anything like this before; so delicate, so tender. She opened her eyes but found they would only open halfway and so dreamily looked over at the person beside her, and smiled. He was so familiar and she knew she loved him. She blinked, drawing a breath; it was her father and he was touching her, touching her in places he had never touched her before—where no one had ever touched her before—and she wished it would never end. She wished she had more places hidden simply for that fact that she could then unhide them for him to explore but she was totally naked now with nothing left concealed.

And yet that was the most exciting thing of all. She was in her birthday suit as some people said, and in truth she felt reborn in this one incredible, lingering moment. Shivers raced up her leg and down her thigh and into her deepest places even as the hands stroked and caressed her feet and shoulders—one at each end of her—and made those tingles blend in with the others.

Kirby, mesmerized by the natural, innate loveliness of the girl before him, simply stayed where he was, touching her with both hands, feeling, caressing, grasping, his lips sliding delicately over her knees and then down her thighs. Her skin was goose pimply all over, stiff and dull, but he went on kissing, went on slowly rubbing the flat chest and squeezing the nipples with his fingertips, while his other hand smoothed down the backs of the raised thighs. Those fingers accidentally brushed past the stiff thing sticking out between them and now he stopped, swept his hand slowly back and caught hold of it.

It was stiff. It wasn't thick or long, but it was incredibly stiff. He squeezed it gingerly between thumb and forefinger, but the disgust and insult that he thought he might feel at his first contact with another man's dick, simply wasn't there.

—Because, he reminded himself, this wasn't a man. And somehow this tender-yet-rock-hard thing, wasn't a cock.

He paused in his enjoyment of the girl's legs to lean over and look, and when saw Alaina's most secret place, her most intimate thing, stiffly undulating between his fingers, it didn't seem masculine—at all. He squeezed it as he would squeeze his own organ, rubbed it slowly up and down as he had done to himself countless times, and the thing stiffened even more. There was a soft, breathy moan as he did this but the sound could not have come from anything but a woman's throat. Glancing back around the knee which he still leaned against, he saw the face. It was a woman. There was no longer any doubt. A gorgeous thing with the face of his son.

His daughter Alaina he reminded himself. He thought again of incest and the fact that he was now engaged in it. He thought of the horrors of what that word meant, and the abuse and deceit and pain and suffering connected to that, but...

—He had no excuse for what he was doing. He had lost his mind. He was about to, well, already having sex with his own flesh and blood. He started to pull back so he could stop this whole thing but the girl pulled her knees further toward her chest and pointed her feet straight down.

Kirby noticed Alaina's pretty feet and was distracted instantly. He thought of his own feet, of his wife's, and knew that there, somewhere between, these perfectly shaped wonders had been formed. The urge arose to kiss them and Kirby couldn't resist. He turned, leaving the cockish clit between his fingers and brought both hands up to grasp the ankle closest to him. He pulled and guided the foot toward him and then, forgetting all other considerations, Kirby began kissing that foot and licking it and rubbing his face against it. It wasn't long, only a second or two, before he was lost in the enjoyment of it, of the pleasure and the touching of his fondest fantasies. He had always loved bare female feet, and this was not only bare and exquisitely female, but beautiful and sexy beyond his experience.

Alaina gasped again. Her chest lifted and shuddered, her lower leg stiffened, as did her foot. It felt as if her leg were stiffening just as her organ was, ready to gush. The warm tongue running back and forth along the top of her foot sent a humming, sparkling tingle all through it, which raced up her ankle and calf and over her bent knee. She shivered as her thigh muscles contracted and tensed, and then her cock lifted stiffly up behind her thighs. Absently she slid her fingers down over the carefully trimmed thatch of pubic hair on her crotch, down between her clenched thighs and over the pubic bone, pushing downward against the base of her organ to make it angle even further backward. She gasped but quickly took her hand away, knowing that the temptation to touch and fondle and rub herself were just too great. She didn't want things to gush to a conclusion, not quite yet. She loved the tension and the way it was building; the excitement of it and the way her insides seemed to melt and quiver like gelatin. Holding her breath, she pulled her hands up and slid them up over her head, as far away from her crotch as they could be, but now one of the other hands left her trembling foot and slid up over her chest and began exploring and touching her smoothly shaved armpit, now exposed.

Kirby leaned back from his daughter's foot, sliding one hand up the back of her thigh and behind her knee. He pushed up on her lower leg and she suddenly unbent it and pointed it straight at the ceiling. She looked now like a girl riding a bicycle, upside down. But his other hand had discovered another wonder about her body. He turned and looked and found himself smiling at what he was caressing.

Not only was Alaina's armpit smooth and hairless, but the concave and contour of it made it look sexy. He wanted to kiss her there. He wanted to kiss her nipple, her armpit, her hand, wanted to suck on each and every one of her long fingers. He wanted to run his tongue along her beautiful high collarbones and then down the center of her chest to her belly button. There wasn't any part of this girl that didn't invite him to explore, that didn't seem to ache for touch and attention, and he wanted to be the one to do it.

To do all of it.

A gasping, writhing young woman lay naked before him on his couch. He hardly knew where to look or to touch first, but now his daughter turned her face to him and smiled and the smile was not only on her lips but in her eyes.

"Daddy," Alaina breathed dreamily, and now she reached out and touched his face. "I...I don't have any idea what it must be like for you, to be alone, I mean. I only know what's it's like for me, you know?"

Kirby nodded and smiled. After his wife had passed away, things had obviously changed. He had figured, a year or two later, that he would eventually start seeing people again, but the months went by, then the years and he forgot about it. When he found himself unable to focus, or found himself focusing too much on sex, he would simply masturbate and get it over with but the weeks and months would go by again until the next time.

But he found it hard to understand how someone like Alaina could say she was alone. She was so beautiful, so full of life, so sweet and smart! She must certainly have had boys at the university falling all over h—

—A sad smile came over Kirby. He shook his head even as he let his smile warm and glow again in Alaina's direction. He could think of nothing better to do or to say, and so gently brought his arm around and pushed his daughter's legs down and away from her chest, then leaned down and kissed her tenderly on the lips. Her soft gasp excited him, but he inhaled too and caught the scent of her: subtle, fragrant, sweet. He pressed his lips more firmly against hers and she pushed her head up to meet him, turning her head this way and that, letting her lips smear and compress against his, her breath getting more and more excited with each passing second. Now her hands both reached out and gripped the sleeves of his shirt, pulling him closer, pulling him on top of her.

Kirby fought the impulse to get on her, to get on the couch full length and lay on her nakedness. He fought it but surrendered just as quickly as the fight had begun. He got carefully up off the floor and lay halfway on top of her, his mouth glued to hers, his tongue ready but not quite willing to reach out into the hot, steamy vacuum of her mouth.

But then she was reaching down, lifting up his shirt. He leaned back just long enough to satisfy her, yanking his tee-shirt up and off over his head, but then he was crouched over again, kissing her willing mouth, rubbing her bare shoulders, and finally, finally, reaching his tongue down into the depths of her mouth. He felt her tongue touching his now—moist, tender, but strong—and they both gasped through their nose, inhaling each other's arousal, which made their excitement rise even faster.

Then, locked in an upward spiral of lust and forgetfulness, Alaina reached down and frantically tried to get Kirby's shorts undone, and Kirby, stopping once more, stood from the couch, stripped down bare, and then sat on the cushion beside the girl. He touched her face to make her look and when her eyes opened, she smiled, though thoughtfully now, but with her thoughts now tinged with fear.

"Please, daddy," she gasped. "Don't be mad at me—please! I...I just wanted to..."

Kirby pulled her up into a sitting position, embraced her, kissed her nose and lips and then sat back.

"I'm not mad, honey-girl." he said, and this time the term did not catch in his throat because she was that, he decided: as sweet as honey; sweeter in fact. Even in his dating days, years long past, he had never met anyone as sweet of disposition and temperament. He drew her close once more, kissing her firmly on the mouth and knowing that though other parts of their bodies were surely going to be in contact very soon, kissing would still be greatly on his mind.

Her lips were delicate, soft and sweet, just as his wife's had been.

"You...you can...." Alaina puffed when that breathless kiss ended. Kirby stopped in mid motion; he had been thinking of laying her back down flat and kissing her entire body, from face to toes. He looked at her, waiting for her to continue. "You...can, if you want, uh...pretend that I'm a girl. I mean...you know...like you're a guy and I'm a girl and we could...."

Her words somehow didn't register with Kirby. He heard them, understood them, but it was as if the sweet young thing in his arms was mumbling to someone else in the room. Or perhaps she was still halfway asleep and talking to some dream person. He kissed her again, cutting off her words, then leaned down as he lay her flat on her back. He got on the couch with her this time, both his knees together between hers, and as he bent down he could feel his erection touching his thighs. He glanced down at himself, knowing it had been a long time since he had seen himself so thick and stiff. Usually he just reached down and stroked it as he sat on the toilet, never really looking at it. He bathed every night, but was obviously never in need of seeing what he was washing down there. But now a small smile crept across his lips as he saw the throbbing thickness of his shaft. The head of it bulged as it seldom did—only being erect long enough to be jerked off—but now it had been erect for what seemed like hours and everything, every part of it, was full and engorged and tense with life.

He looked up at the girl's puzzled face, then lowered himself down on top of her slowly and gently. He felt his dick pressing down against her body, moved a little and felt the contact between his cock and her...

—He puzzled out a term for it, but all that would come to mind was clit. It was her clit. Alaina's slightly oversized, but gorgeously sexy clitoris. He dropped his hips, his dick pressing down sensuously against this other organ—and for a moment he simply stayed like that, supported on elbows and knees above her, only that part of him in contact with that part of her.

But then her legs spread out and came up and around him. Long legs. Beautiful and shapely and smooth. He felt them wrap and bend around his sides, and then moving on instinct and habit he reached a hand down to rub and explore her pussy, to slip a finger up the slit to pull any stray pubic hairs out of the way and to smear and massage her own juices around to make entry easier. He stopped when he felt the stiff member that was there, his mind spinning for a moment, then closed his eyes and found that thoughts still swirled in his head.