The Games Some Daughters Will Play Read online

  The Games Some Daughters Will Play

  Copyright 2016 Lisa Smiles

  Published by Lisa Smiles at Smashwords

  Smashwords Edition License Notes

  This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your enjoyment only, then please return to Smashwords.com or your favorite retailer and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

  All characters involved in sex are over 18 at time of depiction.

  Aged eighteen and one day, Kylie was wondering what she could do now, that she couldn’t before. It just seemed so anti-climactic. So she downloaded a new browser to her computer and linked it to a new g-mail. Then she started typing the craziest shit into Google—most of it disgusting, some of it literally shit. The only taboo with a good mix of naughty and funny was incest. From the photos with laughable captions and forums for “serious” discussion, a world of entertainment awaited. It took her no time to conclude the confessions were plainly made up. They were all too over the top. It would be even more furtive, she thought, adding a comment that someone with a brain could believe.

  d/F: I’m eighteen and have been masturbating thinking of about my father and I feel very ashamed about the feelings I have, but they’re very real so please refrain for judging too harshly. So look, I don’t want to spoil my relationship with him by making advances, and I don’t think I want real sexual relations. I’m just wondering if anyone has advice on how I can enjoy a little more “contact”. Now I’m older I think the old tickle fights and wrestles I used to have with him when I was a kid would have a new dimension. He does it still with my little sister but it would be strange if I tried to join in. So I’m asking if people here have suggestions about fun and games stuff we could do that would not jeopardize normal relations going into the future.

  She hit post, satisfied her inquiry sounded more genuine than anything on there. For the real sex fiends, there was always the dark web. She knew she was safe to browse while she used plain old Safari so toddled along to places where people post captions over short clips. Most started, “I like it when Daddy…” or, “Don’t you love when your step-daughter…” then followed on with something naughty and funny that put a new spin on an ordinary fuck scene.

  She had obviously struck a chord on the forum because when she returned there were already comments. She wondered why some people even came on this forum if all they were going to say is “don’t play with fire”. They were probably Christians and prime offenders. There was one she liked though:

  If your father is still playing physical games with your younger sibling, then this is your “in”. All younger siblings dream of their older siblings playing with them more, and all fathers are happy to see the younger ones getting the attention from their older sibling. If you join in next time they’re playing no one will suspect your ulterior motive.

  In response to that comment was this piece of advice:

  Since your father raised you, he still thinks you’re totally innocent. So, if you accidentally touched his dick, or wore a nightie without any panties, you would get even more contact without being suspected. Also, what makes you think he wouldn’t enjoy some sexy games too? I’ve got an eighteen year old daughter at home and I would blow my wad if she was like you. Keep it all disguised as a game and enjoy your last years at home.

  Ben’s older daughter was far too mature for rough-house dad games nowadays. Makeup and shopping are serious business. The last thing she would be a part of were horsy rides like the ones Natalie, her younger sister, demanded each night after dinner. Ben was on his hands and knees while Natalie sat like a cowboy on his back. She dug her heels into his stomach to keep herself straight and then giggled and yelped as he couriered her from the dining chair to the sofa without her feet being allowed to brush the carpet. To her it was something about dolls getting to safety.

  All he saw of Kylie when she crossed the room were her legs.

  “Kylie, could you pass me Barbie?” Natalie asked her, wasting her breath.

  Nat and Ben had a little song for such times: “Kylie’s too big to have fun.” It seemed like water off a duck’s back to Kylie, but it did make Natalie feel a bit better about being ignored. It was that time of the night when Kylie got slices of cucumber to put over her eyes.

  Horsey loped on back to the sofa, singing his song. “Kylie’s too big to have fun, dum dum dum dum dum, Kylie’s too big to have fun…”. Ben had forgotten that it was for sour pus Kylie over there in the kitchen that he started singing this song and was now just hooked by the tune.

  “Alright, get off,” he heard Kylie say. “It’s my turn. What’s the game?”

  Natalie told her that you have to get dolls from the dining chair to the sofa.

  “Oh god, she’s heavy! You’ll have to sit back more.” It was not that a hundred and twenty pounds was actually heavy. For a girl her height she was a waif. It was just that her weight, in the saddle of his back, came as a jolt.

  Horsey started to shuffle. “You better hold on.”

  “Where do I hold?”

  Eager to help her big sister Natalie guided Kylie’s legs around Ben’s muscular torso. But there was a problem. She had longer legs. Her heels didn’t dig into his tummy. They landed right in his crotch. Ben repositioned them with his hand but they fell right back in the only place they could go. She had to grip firmly to stay on board and not let her feet touch the carpet.

  Ben knew he really shouldn’t be reading some of the filth he had been reading online. But with free speech and forums, it seemed the world was obsessed by taboos. How many of the “confessions” were real though? He doubted most would be. He told himself to lighten up and just have some fun. His wife would be the ultimate beneficiary if this little game made him horny. He might actually have a reason to fuck her.

  So off they went. Ben sang “Kylie’s too big to have fun,” because it was still in his head and he really had to keep everything light. His cock was getting pummeled back there.

  Her hands on his bare lateral muscles were equally welcome. He had to go shirtless when playing this game so the cowboys could get a skin-on-skin grip.

  After one run Kylie put her feet on the floor and said, “There, easy. No more saying I’m too big to have fun.”

  “Hang on,” Ben said. “Spend some more time with your sister.”

  “I’ve got my cucumber, see ya.”

  Funny, he thought, how she always needed the whole of the cucumber, not just the slices she took from the end. She was too young, surely, to fit cucumber in her?

  She was half way to her room when he had an idea. She was wearing an almost see-through nightie with no evidence of underwear indentations across her firm little bottom. And Ben knew Natalie would enjoy some more Kylie time too.

  “How about we add a little incentive? You two take it in turns, and each time you make it across, there and back, I’ll pay you a dollar.”

  Natalie couldn’t believe it.

  Kylie said, “How about two dollars?”

  “Alright. Two dollars.”

  “Oh kewl! I’m first.”

  Natalie didn’t complain. Anything to keep her sister there playing.

  This time her new enthusiasm made Kylie a little more careless with the way she straddled Ben’s back. As his cock felt the welcome pressure of her heels, his back felt the scrape of her stubble and something fleshy a tad further back. Those weren’t her flaps, surely?


  Did she know what she was doing? She must have. She had had a boyfriend and Ben assumed they had done some petting. He knew too that with their internet access her generation all rushed straight to the most laughable filth: possibly the same stories and notice boards he read to get off. He knew he really should stop with all that now Kylie was of legal age. There was too much temptation. He might do something stupid. But maybe the seed of temptation had already been planted?

  Still, she was on his back now. Why not enjoy it!

  Ben dropped his head and loped along like an old worn out donkey, too burdened to sing. It was not up to him now to gee the girls up. His money would keep the game going. A half decent hooker would have cost him a hundred trips back and forth, and there was no way the game would go that long. He knew that for Kylie the hourly rate was better than she got at McDonalds. For Natalie it would be like Christmas mid year.

  When Kylie alighted from her third ride Ben checked his lower back with his finger. There was a wet patch. While she wasn’t looking he had a quick whiff of his fingers. They smelt like her bunny hole. Not any bunny hole. Kylie’s bunny hole. Like any man he knew the smell of his teen daughter’s bunny hole from her underpants left in the bathroom.

  Natalie was so much lighter that her turns took just a few seconds.

  “Make sure you keep track of the money I owe you. Oh no, here comes the heavy one.”

  Once again he dropped his sad donkey head. But this time she put herself into the butterfly pose, with his shaft as the meat in her foot sandwich.

  “Are you r-right there?” he asked.

  “Just getting settled.”

  “Got a good grip?”

  People didn’t used to talk about incest when he was her age. They didn’t have the same entertainment on the internet or confessional forums to turn to. There just came a time when every young adult was invited by someone very inappropriate for fondue with fluffy ducks. When Ben was eighteen it was an aunty he stayed with who melted some cheese after midnight then came to his room to invite him to play. Fond memories of that evening, also on a living room floor, drifted through my mind as he waddled back and forth with Kylie’s naked clit on his back.

  The night cost him thirty-two-dollars and some back pain the next day, but it was like a night at a strip club at home-cooking prices. Fantastic. He had the right cash in his wallet to pay on the spot.

  “Yes Natalie,” he assured her, “that’s in addition to your pocket money on Friday, so don’t tell your mother.”

  He resolved to keep lots of small denominations on hand at all times.

  “So, do I get a big hug for being the world’s most awesome-est dad?”

  He sure did! Natalie showed by example how to crush the air from a chest.

  “Come on, like your sister,” he told Kylie when it was her turn.

  There was some extra tenderness though. The hug came with a deep sigh and a nestle. She had been without a boyfriend for months and he felt her telling him so in her hug and parting kiss on the lips—not where kisses should land from a daughter.

  As Ben watched her pitter patter back to her room, with twelve dollars in hand and a slimy vagina, he pondered what new knowledge she was taking to her cell of cucumbers. Even though it had only been through her feet, she now knew the thickness and length of his member. He hoped she would one day find a nice husband whose dick was just a bit smaller.

  Sitting with a beer before bed, Ben resolved not to look at anything online for a month. Let fondue nights be of the eighties, and whatever happened in the old days to make it okay, belong to times when they all were peasants.

  Ben thought it was right for society to crack down on incest. For those who transgress—not with their own age group, but the next generation—he had no doubt the sex was like base jumping compared to ground sports. But a lot of the rush would come from it being forbidden. Cocaine can have that allure, but it would soon lose its shine if you were addicted. Lifting the taboo on daughters would increase the incidence but lower the thrill, the first bad for society, the second a loss for the brave.

  “Which of those two kinds of people am I going to be?” he wondered, on his third beer.

  Ben was so proud of his girls. Both had gotten themselves up and ready with a half hour to spare before he had to drive them to school. Kylie’s fair skin still glowed from the shower, dusted with the lightest touch of fine makeup. Her blonde hair was tightly drawn back in a pony tail.

  With his wife left for a conference that morning Ben would have today and the next with no one looking over his shoulder. Unless his wife had set cameras he wasn’t aware of (and the woman instilled paranoia) he could let his eyes fall on Kylie’s grey private school tunic, the slender thighs between its hem and her long socks. Even the polished black private school shoes were a bit of a turn on.

  He broke his stare to pour himself some more coffee. By the time he returned Kylie and Natalie were engaged in a play fight. He had no idea how it had started but was excited by the prospect of more panty flashes. His wife had a policy of buying only white cotton, even for Kylie, and throwing them away at the first sign of staining.

  “Keep it on the floor!” he said sternly, not only for a better view of Kylie’s tight butt, but so they wouldn’t crash into a window if they got too exited.

  Momentarily Kylie had her sister down for the count.

  “One… Two…”

  “Daddy,” Natalie cried and threw one hand out toward him. “Tag team. Tag team.”

  Natalie’s face was being swept by Kylie’s shampoo scented hair. Trading places presented an opportunity to make any man jealous. He was, after all, sharing a house with a 10.

  When he tagged Nat’s hand Kylie released her, leapt to her knees and squared up for fierce battle.

  “Oh dear, look at that warrior face!” Ben said.

  “I’m bigger since the last time you tried this,” she warned him and lashed with her red nails like a cat.

  “Now just go easy,” he said, afraid of the mischievousness in her eyes.

  It started with hand slaps until she got hold of his wrists and put nail marks in each. The only escape was to prize her hands off and embrace her in a chest-to-chest hug. The white lacy bra under her school shirt had pushed her breasts into the shape of round apples.

  Ben made sure to keep their battle close to the carpet. Despite the vastness of their living room they still could knock over a speaker.

  But the thing about keeping wrestling safe is you really only have two positions: laying over your opponent when she is face down, and face-up once you have turned her over and are pinning her shoulders on the floor for the count.

  Her thin arms had speed but no power, just like her thin torso. All of her goodness could be laid out as if for dissection, or just penetration, even if it did mean using his dick as a cattle-prod on her pubis and smearing her breasts with his chest. He was about to start counting to three but was struck by her teeth. They were always so perfectly white and framed by those striated lips. He would just have to look at them and slide back and forth so the cap of his dick pressed her pubis, and he would come.

  Her teeth reminded him of a common cause for leaving late in the morning. “Natalie, have you brushed your teeth?”

  “Oh whoops!”

  “Go on, get in there and make sure you set the timer for three whole minutes.”

  She raced off and left Ben all alone with his hot older daughter pinned on the floor by his cock.

  “You don’t want to know how we played this game when we were younger,” he said, looking down over her lightly made face.

  “Let me guess. Catch and kiss?” She made the sarcastic face of a girl with nothing left to learn from adults. He may as well leave.

  “Oh you posh private school girls,” he sneered. “You’ve never heard of finger-wrestling, I bet?”

  “Thumb wrestling?”

  “Finger-wrestling. It’s full body wrestling but the loser gets fingered.”

 
“That doesn’t sound very hygienic!”

  “Well aren’t you lucky times are so soft! Am I meant to be counting?”

  She tried shaking him off as though her three seconds had passed but Ben pushed her down casting a flash of fear in her eyes.

  “Are you kidding me?” she asked. “Is that what you did?”

  “Finger wrestling? It was the thing.”

  Then her eyes narrowed and Ben could see she was thinking. “How far would the fingers go in?”

  “Hardly at all.”

  A considered look turned her head sideways with her eyes still on his.

  “What?” he asked. “Do you want me to show you?”

  “It’s just a game. Right?”

  “Alright princess. I’ll finger you then.”

  Not wanting to rumple her uniform—one of his jobs in the house was the ironing—he undid the top button and came from above. She poked out and twisted her tummy and made a grimacing sound, but that’s what all the girls used to do when playing this game. It was no fun without some resistance.

  “Wait until I tell all my friends I got fingered by you!”

  “Life isn’t fun without a few secrets. A bit gooey there Kylie. You been thinking bad thoughts?”

  She said nothing.

  The last time he played this was at a Christian youth camp. He was more brutal then than he would ever be with his daughter. He just circled her slippery clit the best way he could to make it feel nice.

  “It’s just another kind of massage,” he said in a low soothing tone.

  “How long did this game used to go for?” she asked with a sigh.

  “How long did I tell your sister to brush her teeth for?”

  “We’ve maybe got another two minutes. It’s okay. I’m not going to tell.”

  Emboldened by her rapid response he asked her if she wanted to double the fun and make it a game of catch and kiss too.

  She didn’t reply. She just reached for his mouth with those thick crinkly lips. He pressed his mouth against hers and was engaged in youth disco kiss. Those were the days when he would just dive into the snake pit of tongues and girls’ spit. Keeping it going past the end of the song meant going steady, so he would never do that. Better to keep on rotating and try to get to every hot one with the same attitude as your own.