Steamy Affairs(Erotica)

In darkness we awaken

It was dark when you awoke, very dark. It would’ve been pitch black if not for the dim light of a television idling on its screensaver, one of the advantages of living just beyond the edges of town. You felt surprisingly refreshed, considering the day you’d had. There was little desire or need to check the time, but you couldn’t have slept more than 3 or 4 hours. Pizza boxes still littered the bed and the covers were piled up in one corner of the room. You felt relaxed. Peaceful. Content. Dark things were moving in your world, but you were detached from them, a shadow in a hole of your own.

Your daughter lay next to you, propped up on some pillows and still wearing your old t-shirt. Her head lolled to one shoulder and she was drooling slightly, as always when in the depths of sleep. Her legs were askew, still naked and free. The bouncing logo on the television caused wandering views between them, flashing brief glimpses of her tender young pussy. You simply lay back and watched her for a while, marvelling in every soft curve and tight bend as they were revealed, then hidden once more.

What an innocent thing she looked, when drifting so far away. Though you dreaded to think what she might be dreaming. This was how your darker self must have come upon her, all those nights you could not remember. Had you really done so in your sleep? It seemed beyond belief. But even now, having given in to the truth of your desires, you could not recall being the beast that took her virginity. You were almost jealous… of yourself. Of being that being that claimed what it wanted without fear or remorse. Even now you were plagued with doubts. With worry for the future. What had she made of you, your cum-splattered child? What had you made her? Would her mother ever see what her absence had wrought?

You had crept closer, as such questions chased you. Gently reached out to touch her. To stroke her hair, feel her soft breath upon your chest. You just had to check if she was still real, every moment you lived this twisted fantasy. Still more human than angel, flesh than porcelain. Some men paid fortunes for plastic dolls and clever robots. False imitations of this erotic playmate you had produced quite by accident, out of thin air and broken condoms no less. You found yourself already rubbing your erection against her leg. Sliding it over her thighs toward that jewel at their centre.

She was yours now and always. You could no longer doubt it. Inside and out you were welcome, each square of soft skin ready and waiting. You carefully maneuvered around her, not wanting to wake her… not yet. Lined up with her entrance, you danced your tip in her folds. Enjoying the feel of soft flesh slowly warming. She began loosening already, dampness crawling out to meet you. Even unconscious her body had played this game enough recently to know what was needed. As you dipped a little into her, her lips sang slight murmurs. But she still didn’t wake, even as you slid forward an inch. You bobbed then just here, for a little while. The silent, secret pleasure of fucking the very edge of a ghost. A sleeping beauty’s tight rim. You could not resist for long though. You pushed on into home.

She woke up of course, but not all the way. Dancing on the ridge of her dreams. You had her in your arms, sat up against the headboard. She yawned heavily as you pumped into her, so relaxed with the situation as to make you believe the same thing had been happening in both worlds. Her arms drooped over your shoulders and hands clawed at your back, just like a cat stretching out its first carpet scratch of the day. Still dopey, your child leant over your shoulder, as she had once done when needing burping as a baby. Content to let you use her as long as no input was required on her end just yet.

You picked her up a bit and kept going, pushing up and in at an unhurried pace. No need to shake her violently back to you. Whatever you might be, the beast in the night was still buried. You were just you. Father to an angel. Fucking her till she flew. You lifted her higher and higher, till her weight tipped you backwards, landing you awkwardly on a greasy pizza box. She rewarded you with a kiss, simple and soft. Thanks for the rude awakening and proof that she was now alive once more. Her own hips took over that precious rhythm, bobbing still careful and slow. You had all night after all. No need to rush things right now.

It took a good long time for either of you to cum, nerves dulled by a day of use. That did not stop you from trying though, shifting position throughout the night. By dawn you were both exhausted once more, drifting back to sleep still locked together. The mere sun couldn’t rouse such a partnership, two champions of love pushing out to find the very edge of their limits.

Chapter 4, We damage ourselves when living dreamsContent © provided by NôvelDrama.Org.

Saturday became a blur. You woke around noon, this time to find she had started before you returned to the world. A bobbing pair of ass cheeks greeted your sleep-glued eyes, she rode you casually, facing away, watching inane daytime television. So engrossed in the show that she kept watching even quarter of an hour later, when you tipped her onto hands and knees to finish in her doggy style.

So the day moved on, much as the last. You finally left the bedroom at least, but the surroundings made little difference. The parental pair of you fucked from room to room: Alighting on tables. Bending over sofas. Perching precariously on chairs. Neither had slept or ate enough. Neither were particularly fit. By mid afternoon you were shooting dry blanks at or in her, your body unable to produce baby-making liquid fast enough; but you kept going anyway… an orgasm without such being a separate experience in itself.

Besides it wasn’t like the girl needed any more coating. The pair of you were a despicable mess of each other’s bodily excretions, dried on or left dripping. It was vile, in such a refreshingly horrific way. You felt you could do anything to this dirty little whore-urchin of yours, as her body leaked lubricant from both ends. Yet eventually the novelty wore off. Your last few screws of the evening became grumpy affairs, tiredness and discomfort leading both of you to start simply barking erotic demands at each other. You weren’t willing to stop of course: This two-part orgy had been going on for so long now that ‘not fucking’ seemed an entirely alien concept. Each just wanted to give and take their fill in the most efficient way possible.

It all had to stop when the next takeout was ordered though. Your daughter threw on some other old t-shirt that had been lying around: back to front, inside-out and, seeing as it was hers, completely unsuitable for covering her still bare lower-half. She couldn’t have cared less. The delivery boy wrinkled his nose up in surprise when she appeared, unsure whether to be aroused or horrified by the view he was granted. However he was chased off the doorstep when he asked such an impertinent question as “What’s that in your hair making it stick up so much?” He clung to the money she’d thrown at him, counting himself lucky she had said ‘keep the change!’ at the end of a long line of expletives. Perhaps it later became his story of pride when shared with mates round the bar. Gradually becoming more embellished with each telling until he almost ravaged her as much in his mind as you had in real life.

Meanwhile your daughter and you slumped in a darkening lounge. Munching in grim silence and wallowing at the thought that after this you’d probably have to start screwing again. Instead, a truce was made. A very long and very soapy bath was needed, and neither of you would be allowed to excite the other for the whole duration. It was like slipping into heaven, entering those soon-to-be-murky waters. With food in your bellies and layers of grime finally lifting, all seemed relaxed and hopeful once more. You washed each other diligently, avoiding sensitive spots to the best of your abilities. Then lay back and simply floated with each other, as you had so many times before. Of course sleep claimed you both nigh instantly, resulting in a rude awakening some hours later, with stiff necks in icy water. You wrapped your little girl in towels and carried her upstairs, the pair of you settling in her bed, where clean sheets and unused covers awaited.

The next morning you suffered for your excesses. Waking up was like being birthed through a window, your daughter’s soft mattress more like a bed of nails. Oh how you ached. Every bone and muscle roaring at you that spending two days and a night continuously fucking someone much more energetic and spry than you was a recipe for disaster. Not that said hyperactive nymph seemed in much better shape, for all her flexibility. You both just lay with each other, groaning, until it became obvious not moving was as painful as doing so.

As she slid off the bed you nearly laughed at your child’s toes-turned-in waddle, until you glimpsed how red and sore her pussy looked. She was still so new to sex after all, you should have realised going to such extremes would rub her tight inner self raw. You had been far too caught up in her enthusiasm as a lover to fulfill your restraining role as a father. Your cock fared better, having previously dealt with the whims of a sex-addict, yet you had to keep reminding yourself: she was not her mother. Still, the girl held herself high and proud, clearly showing much more concern over your near-petrified muscles than her own glowing genitalia. She heaved you up and pushed you all the way to a hot shower, like a mother sparrow shepherding her overshadowing cuckoo chick.