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[sweetsalome]

Life is busy and full, there is always something to do, some place to go.

School, home, practice, homework, some lesson, some other extra circular activity on the day planner.  It has been like this ever since she could remember.  There isn't ever a whole lot of down time.  At some point she decided that she was a shark, any stopping would mean she would completely die.

Or something equally dramatic.

Shutting the front door with her hip, she drops her back pack near the front door and continues further into the house, tossing her gym bag into the laundry room without much of a thought before stepping into the kitchen to find food.  Yes, food, there must be something because she is starving.

Headphones in, ipod on, inner debating warring on if she should even bother starting her homework now or waiting for study hall.

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[sweetsalome.livejournal.com]

She doesn't remember a whole lot of what came before. There was pleasure, and there was him, and her climax and the noise of his own - but it all seems like a blur, like something out of a high speed camera that sort of flips in front of her eyes before settling back down inside of her head. She expects to feel something when he comes, and doesn't, besides his grip and the fantastic slam of his hips against hers. But shouldn't there be something more besides that?

She aches. Her hips, her arms, her cunt. She aches from taking him and being taking by him and she hurts up in her stomach for some reason as well and she finds that very odd. In a sort of half smokey thought that appears and then disappears. Spent, she is spent, on the bed next to him, eyes closed and her chest rising and falling quickly as she tries to catch her breath even as her body rolls and trembles from what remains of her orgasm. It is such a weird feeling, being cold detached from what made her feel so good and warm before. It's like being kicked out of heaven and left in the cold and the dark.

It is an oddly emotional experience for her and she has no idea why.

Liking coming down from a massive high, feeling something so great and so powerful and then nothing. All those chemical pleasure centers in the brain now running on low, not being able to give her anything that she needs in order to feel right again.

And he touches her face with his hands that can create beauty from nothing and she blinks wetly at him, looking up at him through this mist of wet from under her eyelids. She pushes it away with the backs of her hands while he fixes himself and pulls her back on to his lap where she rest her head on his chest. That's better, mildly better, like being given something to cushion the fall. She looks at him and then down at her lap, wet and pink, a pink outside of the color of her skin, but more like the pink of diluted blood which makes her frown slightly and spread her legs a bit more with a wince.

"I need to go clean up, daddy. I enjoyed playing with you, I liked it a lot."

[soursanguine.livejournal.com]

Oh, those glistening eyes, he can never resist those. They get him right in the chest, twist up around his heart, but there's more to them, now--as much adoration as there is with desire. He coos at her wince, her cute little frown, and bends to kiss it from her lips before setting her upon the edge of the bed. "Yes, sweetheart, that sounds like a good idea, why don't you do that. Then we can relax together, maybe eat a little, have that talk."

If he can manage to stay awake, holy fuck, it's like she sucked all the energy right out of him.

Bit by bit, the reality of what's just happened comes back over him. His daughter, his little Salome. Goddamn. No, that was a bad idea, that was a terrible, terrible bad idea, and he already knows in that deep instinctual way from not only experience, but from the peculiarities involved in this situation, that she's going to get clingy. Or clingier, anyway, considering the way she is with him in the first place.

Fuck. But it was so worth it. He's never felt so close to her, not like this, and it shakes him. Yeah, it's a good plan for her to clean herself up, because he needs a minute to think about how to approach this discussion. He doesn't even know where to begin. Why don't they write a parenting book on this situation, for fuck's sake? 'The Electra Complex and You: Or, So You've Given In To Your Daughter's Advances And Plan On Going Back For More'. Now that's useful child-rearing literature.

There is no place to start that seems like a good idea. Not without some kind of restraint for her, or perhaps a shield for him. Possibly a mop for her tears when he dissuades her of her more fairy tale notions.

It'll be fine.

[sweetsalome.livejournal.com]

'Incest for Dummies' is a surprisingly good read, very informative she'll pick him up a copy for his birthday.

It's hard to get her legs to work, but they do, awkwardly, and she does a sort of stumble to the bathroom to clean herself up and to gather herself because if he needs to do it then she needs to as well. Not only did she just have sex with her father (good sex) but he came inside of her and she is pretty sure that's not a real big issue, but it shakes her a little bit, in a sort of way that only a child who has been raised about the necessity of condoms could be shaken.

It's so weird, she should feel different. Does she? Maybe, a little bit. There is more ache in her then she expected and she really, really isn't looking forward to having that talk.

It's one thing when your parents walk in on you and your boyfriend, but what the fuck kind of talk will there be when you're fucking your dad? It's probably one of the most awkward birds and bees talk ever in the history of human kind. She would really not like to talk about it. Like really not like to. Maybe he'll go off and paint or do whatever it is that he does in his studio.

If he really wants to go down that path then she'll just blow him, that seems much more reasonable and less awkward then a conversation over Chinese.

After she cleans herself up and slips on a new pair of skivvies, she returns back to the bedroom and back to him and his lap, curling up with him in their half naked state. Her head on his shoulder and her fingers moving over his bare chest. Totally clingy.

[soursanguine.livejournal.com]

Yeah, well, she should have thought about the fact that she didn't want to talk about it before she tried to fuck him. As Richard has somehow failed to learn his entire life but is more than willing to impart, actions--even the most pleasant, mind-blowing ones--have consequences.

He lies there on her bed, feeling bizarre, every glimpse around her room now revealing her in a new light. He feels like he's in a completely foreign land. What the fuck, what the fuck just happened? Christ, that was magnificent, but what should he say? Is there anything to say? How do you have a post-coital 'so we're clear on how this isn't a relationship' talk with your own daughter?

Jesus. Actions really do have consequences. Shit.

But even with that thought in mind, he can't wipe that stupid grin from his face. The consequences are but a small price to pay for the sudden solidifying of his fondness, the way it increases in depth and intensity the more he thinks about her. Christ, he helped her pull her teeth when she was a kid. What in the fuck. He can't decide if this is one of the best or one of the worst things that's ever happened to him. But he supposes that's in keeping with his feelings about his favorite little accident in general.

By the time she returns to curl up with him, that pretty little head leaning against his shoulder, his eyes are closed and his mind is gunning on overdrive even if the rest of him wants to eat and then hibernate for winter. Still, he smiles, kissing her forehead and stroking her arm.

"So." Then he can't think of what to say next, so he just says again, "...So."

Yeah, this is going great.

"I--" He cuts himself off with a chuckle, placing his hand over his eyes and groaning. "My God, Salome, I don't even-- first-- I'm glad we did that. And I love you, very, very much. Very much, especially after that, I'm glad i have a new way to show you how much you mean to me. But we need to have a little discussion about what that was, and where we're going from here, because I think-- okay, you know? Here." He lifts his hand from his eyes and gathers her hair back from her face, his fingertips grazing down her cheekbones. His tone is as gentle as he can manage, already drained as it is from their activities. "Why don't you tell me what you think you mean when you say that you love me. Let's start there."

[sweetsalome.livejournal.com]

Ugh. Dad. Really?

Like he is totally embarrassing her in front of her friends at the mall. Ugh. She tries to hide her face against his chest, hiding there seems like a really good idea, really clever, he is never going to think to look for her there, right?! Totally.

Wrong.

if she wasn't blushing before she totally is not, and this is a lot MORE awkward then making eye contact with him while he was going down on her. "I really don't want to talk about that, I mean, isn't that kind of spoiling the afterglow? Plus I am super tired and I don't even want to think about having some sort of post sex talk with you, no offense or anything. I get it, I won't tell anyone about it and we had a good time together, but talking about it - won't that just make it awkward?"

Oh check it out everyone, the princess of cool.

Yeah, just totally lost the v-card to my dad, but I don't care, nothing can phases me. Nope.

Bitch please, she just doesn't want to spoil the moment, that high on life and how everything is going to be roses and snuggling kittens from here on out. But she will say this: "I'd like to do that again with you, I mean, if you want to, if you're up for it. Not right now or anything, but maybe tomorrow?"

Or an hour from now.

[soursanguine.livejournal.com]

"I assure you, darling, no matter how awkward you think this is for you, I'm the one who's doing most of the suffering." And he is, this conversation is already like pulling teeth and it hasn't even started. "But-- communication is...important, and what just happened between us is probably..." It's getting harder to keep a straight face while he swallows back his sniggering. "--something we should--"

And then he bursts into laughter, himself, the whole situation absurd in the extreme, and no, he doesn't want to ruin this moment, but he knows deep down in his chest that if he doesn't put a damper on this, now, then he's in for a world of hurt later. And the longer he lets her go on thinking that this is romantic-romantic, the more upset she's going to be when he has to reach into her chest and crush her soul.

And then she makes mention of wanting to do it again, and he gives that insatiable grin to the ceiling before drawing her face toward his to kiss the tip of her nose. "Yes, darling, I'd love to do it again." His grin grows to lecherous proportions and he pecks her lips, his hands roving over her back. "And again, and again. We can make it a new, special way of spending time together. I think it will be very good for us if handled correctly. But. We can only do it again once you and I have had a discussion about it, is that clear? And before you get it in your head that you can try to weasel out of it, you can't, so don't bother making the effort."

Because he really, really doesn't want to have this conversation, either, but even he's aware it needs to happen. However, her efforts to delay it give him more time to think, and more time to relax in the tenderness of afterglow with her, so he finds himself with little reason to complain.

[sweetsalome.livejournal.com]

"I don't think you're suffering at all, you're not the one that got all stretched out." Seriously, she is aching over here and she finds it a pleasant ache, something that reminds her of him. He's not suffering, he is laughing and giggling like a little kid. That's not suffering. Him sobbing and looking repentant, now that would be something like suffering but she doubts that she'll get that from him. Still, it is an awkward conversation and neither of them want to have it, he just seems to be the one insisting on it - and she really doesn't get that.

"Oh, so if we don't have the conversation then we don't get to have sex again? Hmmmm I think that might be a slightly unfair trade but I am almost willing to make it. I've gone pretty far in life not having sex with you so I can go without again." Except she probably can't but she'll certainly try. Grinning against his chest she starts laying soft kisses over his bare skin, her hand moving over his side, stroking his flank and then over his hip.

"I don't even know what you want to talk about, everything is fine as it is right now. There's no need to go and mess all that up, I think you're just looking for trouble." Because, really what can you talk about with a woman after you've had sex with her? Not a lot that won't get her all worked up and angry, especially when that woman is sixteen and your daughter.

[soursanguine.livejournal.com]

"Kiddo, that's why such a talk needs to happen. Because I want to make certain that everything stays fine, since what we just got up to is thought of in some circles as a fairly big deal." She presses those kisses to his chest, and that hand drifts, and it all almost--almost distracts him, but he catches himself before he can fall for whatever spell she's weaving with those fingertips of hers and slips his arms beneath hers. He draws her up, tucking her head beneath his jaw.

Yeah, sobbing and repentant, right. He just had one of the top five most theoretically magnificent sexual experiences in his existence, so as unlikely as he is on a normal day to be repentant, it's impossible now. Richard nuzzles up against the crown of her head, breathing deep the scent of her hair and then sighing.

"You get this from me, you poor thing. Not that I'm complaining. And no, princess, I'm not looking for trouble. I just want to make sure that you and I are completely kosher, on the same page, cool, hip. 'Swag'." You can hear the quotation marks around it as he says it. "Do people really say that? Is that even how you use that word?" He's not that old, not at all, but she makes him feel old simply by virtue of the fact that she's his daughter, and daughters are supposed to be young while their fathers are supposed to be old, even if the age difference is only nineteen measly years.

"Anyway. I'm fine to let it lie for now. And I'm fine to call your bluff, too." He tweaks her nose and grins. "But before you and I play together like that again, I just want to make sure we're on the same page, because I don't want you getting any bad ideas, and I don't want this turning into something you're going to have to go into therapy for in ten years."

His head drops back against the pillow and his eyes shut--oh, sweet, cool, blissful darkness--while his fingers comb through her hair. "In a perfect world, we wouldn't have to discuss this at all. You should consider yourself lucky I'm a good enough father to take this situation seriously enough to talk about it with you."

Yes. Because good fathers open a dialogue with their daughters after they fuck. Dad of the Year, ladies and gentleman.

Dad.

Of.

The.

Year.

[sweetsalome.livejournal.com]

"It's only a big deal if you make it a big deal. I mean, it's kind of a big deal but it's not like we're getting married or anything like that." But it would be pretty awesome if they wereeeeeee~. See, she isn't seeing the big deal or that there could possibly be a difference in how they see what just happened until he actually breaks it down for her and when he does, oh man, that is going to be a pretty earth shattering experience for her.

She gets this from him? What does that even mean?

Wait, did he just use the word 'swag?'

She starts giggling helplessly against his chest, shaking her head. "Noooo swag is like attitude, and I really don't think it's Kosher, I'm pretty sure they can eat pork products." Bad humor is what she got from him, clearly. Urban Dictionary defines swag as: appearance, style, or the way he or she presents them selves. Old man. Sooo funny.

Like he'd send her to therapy. "I doubt that I am going to end up in therapy over this," famous last words. "I am happy like this, with you, and I don't want to do anything to ruin that." Though he might, what the hell, dude, even she gives him a bit of a look when he drapes himself across the fainting couch with his dad of the year routine.

She's gotta get him a mug or something. Outside of the one she bought him one father's day when she was just a little kid.

His eyes close and she makes a face at him.

[soursanguine.livejournal.com]

Richard snorts. Marriage is an unnerving enough concept, thanks. But, the fact that she seems to think it isn't a big deal is at least somewhat reassuring, because outside of the fact that culture dictates that it be some kind of tremendous, flip-turning life upside-down kind of deal, he doesn't see it as one. He understands conceptually that incest is supposed to be some horrid, scarring experience, but it's not like he was messing around with her when she was ten. This is a sixteen year old girl. Sixteen year old girls have sex drives. If he wasn't going to do it, somebody else was, and then he would have had to bust some kneecaps.

If rationalization were a superpower, he'd make himself a costume and go be a villain. Because he is excellent.

Besides--he enjoyed the hell out of it, physically and mentally, and more than simply for the taboo. He's been wearing this big, gawky mask, play-acting for sixteen years. It's nice to have room to breathe around her, to have a few moments where he doesn't have to worry too much about what's inside of him showing through. Restraint still has to be exercised, of course, but if anything could possibly foster the healthiest unhealthy relationship between a psychopath and the apple of his eye, this sort of thing is it.

Chuckling at the face she makes, Richard digs his fingers into her ribs to tickle her until he gets at least a squeal, then kisses the temple of her forehead. "Well, I'm glad you're happy. I'll let it go for now, then." Which is a relief to him, although the next time he mentions Delilah he's sure shit's gonna go down. "You are really something else, Salome. I can't tell you how pleased I am." He grins, flicking a glance down the form that stretches out, those long, tawny limbs that drape against his and across the bed. A shiver overcomes him, his mouth burying itself against her neck, her shoulder. The scent of her soft skin is nearly overwhelming even in the heady afterglow; he chuckles darkly, planting a tender little peck against her pulse.

"I remember when you were little. I don't remember how little, but you kissed me and tried to slip me tongue because that's how you'd seen people kiss in movies and you didn't know the difference." He laughs. "It was adorable, and hilarious. Do you remember that? I had to explain to you that that's how you kiss a boyfriend, not how you kiss daddy. And yet here we are." Richard nuzzles against her ear, kissing the ridge while his fingertips drift between her shoulder blades, his touch ultra-light and sweet.

"I'm quite happy with the adjustment to my previous lesson, I must say."

[sweetsalome.livejournal.com]

Rationalization is so easy sometimes, especially when it's something you really, really want. Salome wasn't exactly raised in an environment on 'no,' and 'that's not allowed.' So it seems to her that whatever she really wants she should really get, including her father. It will be a bit of a shock when she figures out that she can't always get what she wants, like the song goes. For the moment however, she can be blissfully unaware of that and just enjoy her own private fantasy with him.

Oddly enough it seems like talking about it (in a subtle, easy way) is helping. Mainly because it is in the form of praise and acceptance instead of shame and denial.

He tickles her and she giggles against him, shrieking first with surprise before putting her arms down to try and protect her bare ribs from his fingers.

"I don't remember that," she admits, climbing on to his lap once again, straddling him and regarding him with a bit of narrow eyed disbelief. "Are you making that up? Who kisses like that anyway, it seems so gross." Her fingers move through his hair, gripping at the headboard behind him as she leans in to kiss him just like that, like they do in the movies. Mouth, tongue, taste. She groans softly for as much of the act as the knowledge that this is so very, very wrong.

[soursanguine.livejournal.com]

Richard breathes a heavy sigh into that sweet mouth of hers, one produced as much by the way she straddles him and the way she groans, as it is by the way she kisses him. A thrill streaks through him at all the new horizons to broaden and explore, hers and his, both. The pads of his fingers drift across her ribs, over that taut stomach that makes him shudder. His tongue, meanwhile, meets with hers, his lips pushing back against hers as though moving to consume. One arm drapes around the back of her neck, his hand creeping over her shoulder.

An entire new avenue to grow close to her with, and an entire new avenue to plunge himself deeper into the most debauched desires. Ah, he loves his life, and he loves his dear little daughter.

Leaning back for air, Richard grins, that lecherous twinkle in his eyes. "See. Positively revolting. Almost as revolting as the idea of inviting you to sleep with me tonight. You wouldn't want that, and you certainly wouldn't want to play together again." His nose brushes up against hers, a playful, put-upon sigh escaping him. "Likewise, you don't want your daddy teaching you all kinds of lovely things about your body, and his. After all, he's just a dirty old man."

His hands lift to comb back her hair while he grins. "And you are a beautiful young siren. My God." Head relaxing back against the pillow, he rakes his gaze over her before finding her face again, his brows knitting. "I hope you haven't been concerned all these years about your carnal interest in me. As far as I'm concerned, it's perfectly touching, and pure, and perfectly natural. Not entirely normal, perhaps, but normal isn't any fun at all, now is it."

[sweetsalome.livejournal.com]

She gets that dizzy feeling again as they kiss, it is so intoxicating, she can't help it she wants more. One taste is never enough, in fact just one kiss wakes her up to a whole world of possibilities that didn't seem there before. Sex was there before, she always knew about that, but she wasn't apart of it, not like now, and now the flood gates have opened and she feels a bit more whole and alive delving into it. A slow smile when the kiss breaks and she let's her hands slide down the bare of his chest and let's her lips follow after. Just touching him, all this skin, and this knowledge of how good skin against skin is.

This is what it must have felt like after Adam and Eve ate the apple.

"I want to sleep with you tonight!" She protests looking up from her spot on his chest, eyes wide. "And I want to play with you again, I want to learn everything you can teach me about sex. I'm not going to dispute the fact that you are a dirty old man though." A grin as she puts her head back down on his chest and sighs against him.

"I never gave it much thought, I knew it was wrong - I just never thought we would actually do anything about it so it didn't really keep me up at night. I mean, it's not really that big of a deal, its not like we're going to procreate or anything. I know kids that fool around with their step siblings so what's the big deal?"

[soursanguine.livejournal.com]

That reaction is better than he could hope for, and he laughs at the big mismatched eyes that stare up at him. His fingers drift down her neck and back while he smiles fondly.

"Exactly right, darling girl. When the ability to procreate is taken from the picture, and both parties are capable of giving informed consent, in my mind, the whole situation becomes perfectly harmless fun, just a new way to show you how terribly I adore you." Granted, there's that huge power gap between a father and daughter, especially when Richard is the father in question; a number of psychological issues which may arise; and that little detail that some people tend to take sex a bit more seriously than he does, for whatever reason, and tend to acquaint it with romance. But those are just side-issues. The philosophical ones are at least moderately covered.

"There are some mild differences, though, between this and kids playing with their step-siblings. That's a situation of peers, and most people would be less disturbed by that because there's no blood relation. However," he grins and straightens her hair out, stroking and smoothing it, "I am the sort of man who finds the idea of a blood relation intensely erotic, and the idea of step-siblings rather trashy. Because that's simply an act of convenience, and curiosity, or perhaps boredom; whereas in our case, physical acts between you and I are products of intense attraction, and the sincere ardor of a father for his little girl, and vice versa."

His fingers tickle gently along her scalp, petting her as though he were scratching a kitten behind the ears while he drifts into thought. A pair of philosophers once argued that incest is impossible, because there are no sexual roles within the family--so, psychologically speaking, the mind flips back and forth in such a case, not thinking of the blood relation as blood, but rather, as an attractive individual who is convenient and available. This is perhaps the case with hillbillies, but Richard, ever the neo-libertine, is a different case. He finds himself attracted as he is to her not just because she is a nubile young woman who is interested in him, but because she is his daughter. It is the defining aspect, not simply of their relationship, but of his carnal feelings toward her. His is a deliberate, insidious, irresponsible descent into the taboo, into stranger, much more beautiful new ground to guide his daughter through.

"I'm glad you have the sense not to worry about these things. But I wouldn't have expected you to get all wound up about it, anyway, you've always been a clever girl. You take after me that way." Richard shoots her a cheeky grin and pats her shoulder. "But you should know that if you have any concerns, or if you're ever worried about what goes on between you and I or the implications surrounding it--which you shouldn't be--then you can talk to me."

[sweetsalome.livejournal.com]

"It helps that we can talk about this, and that you understand. It doesn't feel wrong - or that wrong anyway." Not that it felt wrong before, but that was in the heat of passion, on the cool light of day it is a little different. What he says interests her though and she looks up at him a bit more closely.

"You like it then, that's half the enjoyment for you, that I'm your daughter and we're fucking." It's not really a question, but it is, and she doesn't really seem too upset by that if it is the case. While she finds her father attractive because he is a handsome man, she has to admit that there is a greater thrill and pleasure for her knowing that he is her father. There are a lot of boys at school that she finds cute, but none of them do the things to her that her father does.

She isn't sure how she feels about that. It can't be too wrong, he feels the same way, and that feels very nice. What she does find is that the thought makes her wiggle down against his lap a little bit as her cheeks turn pink with blush.

A happy noise under his touch, almost like a soft purr as she sighs a little and toys with the strap of his belt, an idle touch, she is listening to him - mostly, she has to admit however that her thoughts are a bit distracted and scattered.

"I think I can talk to you about anything. You're good with that," he isn't overly emotional (from what she has seen and of course he has his moments.) He doesn't judge her either, like this, this is easy for her because there is no judgment.

Which leads her to say: "I really want to suck you off right now, but I'm not sure if I'll be good enough."

[soursanguine.livejournal.com]

Richard gives her a cheeky, doggish grin and spreads his hands. "Guilty as charged. I keep warning you that your daddy is a bad man, but you never believe me." He chuckles, then stifles a moan while she blushes and wiggles around. Oh, that sweetness, that darling anxiety of a girl dipping her toes into the pool of sex for the first time. "It's more than that, though. I enjoy it because it gives me a chance to share something special with you. Something that most fathers don't get to share with their daughters."

Something that makes sense to him, something that has more substance. A potent, physical way to lay claim to her--he's always been a protective, possessive father, and this is only bound to make it worse. Or better, depending on one's perspective. Certainly from his.

"I'm glad to know you feel that way, babydoll." He smiles fondly, letting her do what she will as she lies upon him and plays around with his belt, his paternal feelings stronger than they've ever been. Papa wolf and the helpless little creature who stumbled into his heart despite the difficulties involved in a young bachelor rearing an intelligent daughter. Isn't she just adora--

--Wow. He laughs for just a note or two, more of surprise than anything else, since boy, that was out of left field. Not that he's complaining at all. At all. There's an intersection where adorable and sexy blend perfectly and although she's still more on the adorable side of the line, that intersection seems just the place for her. Grinning, Richard sweeps his fingertips down her bicep, then back up to her shoulder. "Well, now, it's something that takes a bit of practice, yes. But daddy would be more than happy to teach you how to play with his cock. You haven't had much of a chance to even see it properly, yet."

He grins, feeling absolutely vile, filthy, that wicked glint in his eyes while he coos to her. "And you'd ought to get acquainted with it, since you're bound to see it more often. Though, you want to know a secret?" He lifts his brows and murmurs conspiratorially. "The fact that you want to use that pretty little mouth of yours is a good indicator that you'll do a fine job once you get the hang of it."

[sweetsalome.livejournal.com]

Of course. He wouldn't have been so into it if there wasn't a little bit of that naughty, perverse want going through him. He admits it, and that, well that is just music to her ears. For the first time she sees something a little dark in him that she doesn't think was there before. It is so easy for her to over look the possibly bad parts of him, especially since she loves him madly. "I thought that we decided that doesn't make us bad, daddy."

A smirk and she let's her fingers move down over the soft trail of hairs that lead to his pants, and is a little surprised when he starts laughing. It isn't a mean laugh, but its the first that she has heard through out this experience so she finds herself blushing hotly again and chewing on her bottom lip till he gives approval of her want, then she can feel herself blushing a little less, but not a whole loot less.

"I've done it before," she admits quietly, "but they were with boys," glancing up at him she takes her time, deliberately slow with undoing his belt, sliding the leather free and then going to work on his zipper. As if she was defusing a bomb instead of undoing his pants.

"You'll have to tell me how you like it, daddy, and we'll have to go slow because your cock is so big." Maybe she is being a little more innocent then need be, but she loves the dark look in his eyes when she is. Oh yes, he wants to teach her, and she very much wants to learn.

:her fingers in the waistband of his boxers and slacks to ease them down. He really should be naked.

[soursanguine.livejournal.com]

"Well, it doesn't make you bad, princess. But your daddy should probably know better, and instead he wants to eat you up." Richard grins when she chews on her lip, resisting the urge to pinch those reddened cheeks. Jesus, God, she's too much, just too much of everything. Too cute, too sweet, too erotic, too young, too-- "Oh, Salome." He sighs and shakes his head, smiling. "I love you to pieces, darling girl."

There's a flash of anger behind his eyes, like a little bolt of white lightning, when she confesses she's given boys head. It's not a shock, of course, but that doesn't stop the fact from hitting a possessive nerve that gives him the instant urge to go choke some hapless teenage boy to death with his bare hands. But for now, he lets it go, a half-sneer, half-smile on his lips while he tilts his head. "Naughty little thing. Boys your age aren't worth the ten seconds it takes for a pretty girl like you to get them to cum."

A mental note to have a little discussion about that little gem of information gets tucked away and saved for later. Because that's not gonna fly, especially not anymore.

It's easy to overlook for now, though, between the so-sweet things she says and the hands that slide away his boxers. He sits up to help her, kicking off his trousers and tossing them with the rest of the abandoned clothes. The air is refreshing, and his anticipation is already relatively apparent, though he takes a moment before lying back down, taking Salome's face in his hands and examining her before shaking his head. He chuckles, sighing in that heavy, dreamy artist's way as he kisses her hard on the mouth and lies back down. "This doesn't even feel real, princess, I keep expecting to wake up. When did you get so attractive, Salome?"

He smirks, combing his fingers back through her hair, brows lifting. "Take it as slow as you like, sweetheart. I'm hardly expecting you to fit the whole thing down that pretty throat of yours, particularly not yet. But that's what those lovely hands of yours can help with."

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"I think you know perfectly well what to do, and I like that you know that." And she beams wildly when he tells her that he loves her to pieces. "I love you too," except their definitions might be slightly different, but that's a conversation for another time and place, because Salome says it is. Why not have a little fun now and consequences be damned? They can wait for another night or another morning when they are not so excited about playing with each other.

"I know, but I wanted to see if I could do it, if I could make them come - and I could." Her shoulders rise and fall in a shrug, it wasn't totally about a sex thing, it was more about learning, and a little bit about power and control. It was nice making them say and do things because she could make them come, it was a thrill. Plus it was nice to be fawned over and sought after as well.

She helps him with his pants, hands moving over his thighs as he reaches to take her face in his hands. He has such a nice touch, and he looks at her as though he has never really seen her before, or maybe it's just in a different way that he is seeing her. "I don't know," she gives him a crooked grin, her hand slipping between his legs, up the underside of his cock as they gaze at one another. "You don't have to worry about this being a dream though, it's not, it's real do you want me to pinch you to make sure?"

Which is probably not something you say to a man who's cock you are holding.

Grinning still she lowers her head and takes some time exploring him, lightly touching with just her fingertips and then the flat of her hand, down his length, his shaft and then up to the silky smooth of his head. Such an interesting toy to play with and she puts her lips on him, just around the head, tongue rubbing against the underside as she sucks him.

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Wasn't a sex thing, feh. That doesn't change anything when it comes to the urge to put her in a little box to keep the disgusting boys in her classes away from her, although he would be proud of the power angle involved in her motives. But if it's attention she wants, he's more than happy to give it to her.

Chuckling, Richard smooths her brow, an inhalation sweeping over his head as that hand brushes against him and flares up his nerves. "No, no," he pats her cheek, grinning down at her, "I don't think you need to pinch me, sweetheart. I'm sure I'm just fine."

He sighs sharply as her hands trace over him, the teasing touch of her fingers and palms growing more glorious by the second. "There's no pressure, babydoll. Just get to know it. Have fun with it. See, you're clearly already doing a good job. Look at the state you manage to get me in. My God." By the time her mouth is against him he's hard enough to give a diamond a run for its money, and a low hiss of a moan peels from his lips. Richard sits up, gathering her hair back with one hand, while the other reaches over to squeeze her free hand affectionately.

Oh, yes, he needs to find something nice to give her after this. No matter how new she is to the whole thing, her enthusiasm for learning is admirable as it is lovely.

Another low sigh of appreciation comes from him, and his hand squeezes tight around hers before releasing it. "When you're using that beautiful mouth of yours, wrap one of your hands nice and tight around the shaft. Like you're giving a handjob." He gives her a calculating little look--presumably she's given those before--but his fond smile never fails. "Let it take care of what your mouth can't. And don't forget there's more than just a cock there, darling. My God, you've got a beautiful tongue, oh, my little girl. My pride and joy."

It's like he's teaching her how to ride a bike properly all over again. Except much, much more fun.

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It is nice to be able to hear what to do, what is necessary to make him happy and to make him feel good. As opposed to some boy tangling his fingers in her hair and shoving her head down on to his cock. Daddy makes much nicer noises then those boys, and feels so much better, tastes better, but that could be a combination of the both of them on him that makes him taste like that. And so hard. She groans at the feeling of him, how hard and thick, as though he could break in half if she touche him the wrong way.

Her fingers wrap around his shaft and wherever her mouth doesn't reach she touches, strokes, caresses, her head sliding down a bit further to take more of him. There is no way at this point in time she can take all of him but she will certain work on that, and work on pleasing him with what she can take. Her hand of course helps, and she slides it down the base of him and use the heel of her hand to press against his sac. At that movement she lifts her gaze up to look at him, yes or no? Is that okay?

He is good at making noises, at letting her know what is good and what is less then good - however at the moment it appears that all is good. Except of course for the fact that she is ruining another pair of panties with how wet he is getting her. She hums happily at his praise, soaking it up like a sponge.

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God damn. She makes his head ache, more on a conceptual level than anything else, once upon a time she was small and completely innocent, and now she's nearly an adult and going to town in his lap. It could bring a tear to a man's eye, it really could, they grow up into vile little deviants so fast. Jesus, he could buy her a car for this.

As the heel of her hand presses up against the sac, he growls out a shuddering moan of pleasure. His thumb strokes gently over the temple of her forehead, hips rocking while she plays and squeezes and sucks. "Oh, Christ, that's my good girl. Just like that. You can rub it a little, too, nice and firm."

While she enjoys herself down between his legs, he reaches forward to maneuver her hips around, more to the side to give him an angle to access what's between her legs. A petite, active, flexible girl like her, he can't keep his hands from her body, her back, her hips, that adorable little ass of hers, those thighs. Years of breaking and entering now and again--and occasionally running--have left him dextrous, as well, enough that it's little issue for him to lean when he's got her hips at the right angle in order to brush his knuckles up against her panties, or let them creep just beneath.

While his left hand teases gently against those damp lips, his right gathers her hair to keep it from her face. "Aren't you a wonderful girl, you-- ah, Salome." His eyes squeeze shut for a fraction of a second and his fingers tangle up in those blonde locks. "Take care not to suck too, babydoll, daddy's going to have convulsions. Let your lips get nice and tight." He grins, tilting his head as he gazes down upon her, entranced by the perverse, glorious vision. "How does it feel, going down on your father? The father you dreamed about, does it taste as you imagined?"

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That's the kind of conversation she wants to have at school when she drives up in a shiny new car. Oh wow, nice set of wheels? How did you manage to swing that? Oh, no big deal, just gave my dad a blow job, he really likes those apparently. Who needs to save up and wait till some big birthday celebration? Shit, if she knew that she would have been going down on him years ago.

Salome actually has no idea those thoughts are swimming around inside of his head, she certainly doesn't expect anything from this, well, she expects something but it really has nothing to do with material possessions.

Breathing in, she nods slightly around him and presses her fingers and palm to him, rubbing and feeling him up just as he told her to. As his hips rock she tries to keep with that motion, trying to use it to guide how she takes him in and out of her mouth. It requires some multitasking skills certainly, it was a lot easier when she rode him, and she even got a pretty good workout out of it, her thighs still ache slightly.

When he pulls her around she complies, tilting her body as he would like, offering herself up to him with a little whimper and sigh before going back to what she is currently working on. That is until he presses against her and that's when she groans out against him, a shudder rolling down her back as her eyes squeeze tight and she eagerly spreads her legs for him. His touch makes it harder and more necessary to get him off, to get him off means that she'll get off, and she needs it, it's like a sickness and there is no cure except for him.

Her lips tighten around him, her whole hand does as well and she sucks harder and strokes him with a sort of nearly aggressive grip. "Yes," she manages the words and looks up and over at him, eye glassy and lips swollen from taking him in. "It's better then I imagined. I've always wanted your cock in my mouth, dad." And she bows her head once again to continue on with her job.

[soursanguine.livejournal.com]

The way she groans around his cock is divine, but Christ, oh, it's that face, that face and those beautiful words that get him right down to the gut. He could kiss that swollen mouth if it wasn't busy, but far be it from him to interrupt what it's in the middle of.He exhales through his teeth, awestruck.

He had no idea. None. But the way she whimpers, moans, the tight grasp of her hand and the enthusiasm in the way her mouth works--God, she's not lying, she really has wanted this. His little daughter, how funny, was she ever really innocent in the first place? How long has she wanted him like this? It's astounding, bizarre, so deliciously wrong he can't stand it, oh, there's no father prouder of his little girl than he is of Salome, he's sure of it.

"You know I can't resist giving you what you want, Salome. Jesus, Christ." The pleasure pulses straight up from his cock and swims around in his head, twisting with the conceptual rapture brought on by the situation entire; his fingers slither up against her clit, approving, affectionate as her motions increase in their intensity. He moans low, crooning and murmuring encouragement and praise when he can manage the words, but the sensation is too hard to fight through and he succumbs to it, the tempo divine as her mouth, as her eyes, as her.

Everything combines until it's too intense for him to take it, and his fingers pause in their moments momentarily while his body gives an instinctual arch up into her mouth. Richard grips her thigh firmly, a shuddering breath tearing through him, the pleasure in his chest like the rising cry of a tea kettle. "Ah-- Salome, sweetheart, fuck, you're so--ah, beautiful, my Salome, my darling. I can't last much longer, I'm going to cum, if you don't want to swallow just spit it out, daddy doesn't mind, just let me see those beautiful eyes, look at me, princess."

Fingers twisting up and tugging through her hair, and one hand gripping that beautiful young flesh, he moans and writhes beneath her, hips lifting while he hits an unavoidable peak that arrives with a sharp snarl of her name. Euphoria bursts from his hips to his head and back down, not as potent as the first climax, certainly, but still good, marvelous enough that while he lets go he only barely retains any sense of place or space at all, his vision consumed by those beautiful patchwork eyes he's seen a thousand times without ever entirely seeing.

What a girl.

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She wants him. There is no denying, no being blind to that fact. She has wanted him for such a long time. The person she wanted most in the world, emotionally, mentally, and finally physically. The only person she can trust and turn to when she needs something even if it isn't a big need. He has been there. And for most daughters this is probably the case with them and their fathers (there are of course exceptions to this). Except, somewhere along the way, instead of finding another man that mirrored the example set by her father to become physical with, she just, well, went for him. A single man, handsome, and of course receptive to the idea. He has never been standoff-ish when it comes to sex, he has never forbid her from seeing boys, sex has never been a dirty thing in their home.

So maybe this was a long time coming. Maybe it was meant to be, there was no avoiding it. Maybe it was just genetic, passed on from father to daughter like his love for fine art.

The opportunity presented itself and there was no way she was going to turn it down, to ignore it and let it slip by. There is no way she could stop. It's out of her hands, it's an impossible draw, like a moth to the flame and she doesn't even bother fighting them.

She sucks him in, pressing her lips down around his cock taking as much of him in as possible, taking everything that she needs from him, eager to give him everything he needs in return. Hands rubbing, grabbing and massaging him while her head bobs up and down quickly. Looking up at him when he commands it, he wants her gaze, and she wants his fingers and she wants him to come in her mouth. She feels whole, wet, panting and writhing with saliva, with come, sweat that gathers at the nape of her neck and collects at her joints. Never before has something like this come over her, and he is the sole cause of it.

Her hips arch and press up against his fingers as he comes inside of her mouth. She swallow it all down, licking and gulping down what he gives her, breathing him in and shuddering in response. His taste, so deep and thick, her teeth drag over his cock and she slurps and slurps until there is nothing left. Even when he is completely empty she doesn't pull her mouth away from his cock, she continues to lick and stroke him, as if he could simply get hard again, as if he possessed the ability to have multiple orgasms.

She just wants everything that he could possibly give her.