[M/F] [incest] [masturbation] The limbo of thoughts (Part 1)

There are thoughts that stay in a limbo. They never really come out fully formed. But they also do exist, in some way. I had that kind of thought.

It was last summer. My daughter had just finished college and was back home for a few months as she figured out the rest of her life.

Somehow it had never quite struck me before, but she was not my little girl. Not anymore. She was a grown adult woman. And a beautiful sexy one at that. She has taken so much from her mother and so little from me. Lucky girl she is. And that summer I finally noticed. Her beautiful eyes. Her sensual curves. Even her voice had some vague undefined feature about it that just screamed “I am made for pleasure, yours and mine”.

I could never really think that, of course. So it stayed in that limbo of thoughts that exist and don’t. It was a random glance too many. It was made of fleeting moments as she walked to the pool in a red bikini.

Things would have probably stayed in that indefinite space forever. If not for my wife’s sister. For, you see, my wife’s sister, she has the worst possible taste in boyfriends. The latest one had decided that dumping her wouldn’t be enough. He also stole some money on his way out. Because, hey, why not? And so my wife had to run out of town to console and comfort. She had called and said she’d be back in a few days, a week at most.

It was the second night that we were home alone together. I hadn’t seen her too much during the day. She was out shopping with her friends, or maybe it was a movie. I can’t quite recall. But she made it home for dinner and then went upstairs to her bedroom. And I did the same, to mine.

I was trying to read something, waiting for sleep to come, not used to the empty side of the bed next to me. It felt lonely. And despite the warm summer weather cold. And in that silence, a sound. Barely audible. “mmm ah”. A pause. Again “aaaahmmmmh”. And again. And again.

It didn’t take long to figure out what was going on. Lisa, my little girl who wasn’t little anymore, she was fucking herself. I should have done my best to ignore it. Go to another room. Turn the TV on. Anything would have been better than sitting there listening to my daughter’s moans.

And yet that’s exactly what I did. I sat there. And listened. Listened to her gentle moans, to the bed squeak. And I imagined. The thoughts fully formed in my head. The fantasy of her chest heaving. Of her eyes closed. Of her cheeks flushed. Mmmmm. Aaaaaa. Mmmm. Ooohhh. The fantasy of her hips pushing the bed up and down, as if aching to find a cock. The fantasy of my daughter being a sexual creature. Mmmmm. I was hard. And ashamed. Harder than I remembered ever being. And more ashamed than I remembered ever being.

She let out a noise louder than the others. And in the silence that followed, it’s as if I could have seen her. Tense. Her back arched. Her fingers deep inside herself. Her pleasure crushing into her wave after wave. Her tension relieved. And then the silence was long. She was probably asleep. Breathing gently. But me. My breathing wasn’t gentle. My tension had just started.

I was hard. Aroused. And I could barely admit to myself what had prompted it. I could barely utter the words in my head: “My daughter made me horny”. I wanted her. But I couldn’t. Not now. Not ever.

I tossed and turned. Tried to sleep. And always landed on that same obscene thought. Could I do it? Was I really that filthy and depraved of a man? My hand seemed to think so as it landed on my cock. And it started moving as if it had a mind of its own. The moans replaying in my head. The hand stroking. Holding tight. Up and down. Mmmm. Aaaaah. Oooh. I was a mix of disgust, shame and lust as I fucked myself to the fantasy of my daughter’s wet pussy. It didn’t take long to reach the point of no return. The thought that did it? Fucking myself as she fucked herself, moaning as she moaned, nothing but a wall in between us.

I came. I cleaned up. And I finally fell asleep. A sleep of dirty dreams. A sleep of guilt. And yet a long and restful sleep.

As I woke up the next morning, I stopped for a minute before being fully woken up. Had it really happened? Had I dreamt it all? No, no, I hadn’t. It was real. Lisa had masturbated herself before bed. And a few hours later, in my sleepless arousal, I had followed suit. Had I been silent? Had she heard any? At the time I didn’t care. Now, as I heard her walking around the house downstairs, I was horrified of crossing eyes with her. Would she know? Would she read the guilt in my eyes?

I couldn’t avoid her forever, now could I? I had to face her. She heard nothing, she knows nothing, and she never will, I told myself as I walked down the stairs, ready for the worst. There she was, in the kitchen, washing a cup, her back to me.

“Hi” I said, my voice trembling with anticipation.

*In full honesty, I don’t yet know where I am taking this story, and it is mostly a brain dump of what I envisioned as I made up a prompt for dirtypenpals – but I would definitely like for there to be a part 2 to it.*

Source: reddit.com/r/eroticliterature/comments/aob3zc/mf_incest_masturbation_the_limbo_of_thoughts_part