Cathy Burton stood in the living room a moment looking at her mom lying on the couch with a damp cloth over her eyes. Hung over, she guessed. Her mom only drank at the family gatherings, and when she did she did it in excess.
After seeing her in action last night, Cathy couldn't help but look at her with new eyes. She wasn't technically having incestuous sex when Cathy saw her. They weren't her blood relatives, after all. What she had seen last night was an insatiable woman eager to go all the way to fulfill her need for sensation and the needs of those around her. Now, she saw a pleasant looking woman in a flowered robe lying on a couch with her pale legs stretched out inelegantly and her mouth half open as she slept.
Cathy didn't wake her but walked through to the hall. She could hear snoring coming from the guest room, and assumed her aunt and uncle were in there, with or without their children. The shower was running in the bathroom at the end of the hall. It was a four in one chance that the person bathing would be her brother, Carter, the only relative she didn't want to see, but she'd risk it.
When she opened the bathroom door and slipped inside, she was hoping it would be . . . "Daddy?" she called out.
"Oh, hey kiddo." His voice came from behind the frosted glass panel that was further obscured by steam. "Have a nice sleep over?"
"Yes. Better than I should have, really," she replied, smiling at the memories.
Cathy unsnapped her jeans and pushed them and her thong down to her ankles so that she could sit to pee. "Do you know the Porters very well, Daddy?" she asked as she urinated.
"Not very," her father replied. "Of course, we've gotten construction loans through Robert at the bank. Seems like a nice fellow. I don't really know his wife."
"Pretty much normal people, right?" She finished her task and wiped herself. Then she stood and stepped out of her pants, a pensive look on her face. "Straight laced?"
"Sure."
"Of course, we're pretty much normal, too," she said, pulling her blouse off.
There was a pause before her father spoke again. "Well," he said, slowly. "I like to think we're pretty normal, yes. A bit above average, of course."
"Even straight laced, I suppose?" She was studying her face as best as she could in the steamy mirror. The steam left her looking distorted, her face half-formed.
"Well, no, not at all," he said. "What are you getting at honey?"
"I don't know." Cathy pulled her shirt off over her head and let her bra follow it to the floor. "I just wonder about us, our family. I wonder what kind of gene pool I came from."
Cathy slid the shower door aside and stepped into the large shower. It was a square, molded tub with a low bench formed into the back wall of the tub. He father was standing under the spray of water, with a soapy washcloth in his right hand. He held the cloth low, concealing his penis.
"What are you doing, honey?" Kent Burton asked, a look of concern and confusion on his face.
"I need a shower," she said, standing with her arms to the side and looking at her father very seriously. At that moment, she felt like crying, and all she wanted was for her father to hold her in his arms. "Oh, Daddy," she said, her voice hitching as she kept the tears at bay. "Can you just hold me?"
"Oh, my little girl. Yes, I can hold you. You're my precious girl, my honey girl."
Kent took her into his arms, holding her head to his muscular chest and stroking his hand over her hair. Cathy pressed herself against his chest, feeling secure, loved in his arms even as she felt his penis rise and fall against her hip as though it couldn't decide what it should do.
"Why didn't you tell me, Daddy?" Cathy asked, her voice muffled against his chest. "It would have been alright. Really. I could have handled it."
"Oh, honey." Kent Burton kissed the top of her head, holding her even closer to his chest while twisting his lower body to avoid too much contact down there. "It was for the best. Really. You were a minor."
"You didn't have to fuck me, Dad! Just tell me the truth." Now the tears began to flow, and she let them go. "Didn't you trust me?"
"I trust you with my life, dear." Her father pushed back far enough to look into her eyes. "But we didn't want to influence you, honey. Young kids get confused and follow anybody's lead. I was rather hoping the practice would die out. Not that I don't love my family and love every experience I have with them, but because I'd like us to just be normal. You know?"
"But Carter knows." She let the shower that sprayed past her father's head wash her tears away. "And Bill."
"Carter found the videos," Kent admitted. "But he agreed not to tell you right away."
"When would a good time be? When I'm forty?"
"When you're in college this fall. Then you'd be separated from your family and be more likely to stop and think before diving in."
"But you would have told me?"
"How could we keep on lying to our wonderful daughter? I love you, Cathy, and anything I can do to make you happy is what I want to do."
"Thank you Daddy. I'm sorry for being a cry baby."
"You're not a cry baby."
"Could you wash me, Daddy?" she asked shyly, suddenly feeling lost again and in need of tender care. "Please?"
"Sure, honey." He smiled reaching for the bottle of shampoo. "Hair first, right?"
"You know best," she said.
Ken Burton pampered his daughter in their large shower. He massaged the shampoo and conditioner into her hair lovingly, and he took his time bathing her with body wash and a shower sponge. Cathy closed her eyes and relaxed, enjoying the feeling of the sponge moving over her back and buttocks, her breasts and stomach. He washed her legs, and then had her sit on the low bench where he could wash her feet as well.
"That feels so good, Daddy," she cooed. "Perfect."
"I want to please you when I can, dear."
"Daddy? Could you lick me? You know, my pussy?"
Kent cocked his head and looked at his lovely daughter a moment. He regarded her lovely breasts and her shaved pussy. And he thought of how much he loved her. He knew he could give her a good orgasm, and he knew that was what she wanted. Still . . .
