Chapter 1, A Call for some Respite
A week and a bit into the holiday things were getting along fine. Your daughter had got over her initial excitement at having you available to her all day long and you were finally able to get some work done in between bouts of lovemaking. She had even gone out with old friends a few times, leaving you a moment's peace to cool off some rather overworked testicles. Jane had also been invited round a few times, to your delight: You were really starting to like the quiet, polite little redhead. She seemed to be the only other female your daughter could much stand the presence of.
Still, there remained a lot of time left to be dedicated to the pleasures of the flesh. You maintained your three orifice quota with your young sapling, filling her up time and again. In fact you even began having to loosen those guidelines, as she simply couldn't keep her mouth off your cock for so long. You found yourself being milked for semen so often that it hardly even registered any more. You'd simply be sat at your desk working and she'd wriggle her way under, to pop up between your legs. A warm softness would envelope you and a tongue begin winding round your length, all while you tried to stay focused and finish whatever paragraph you were working on. Your body seemed to be adapting to this nigh constant stimulation, not only by producing more and more spunk to fulfil her appetites, but in taking longer to reward her with the salty gulps she craved. The girl was no quitter though. She would lap and suck and slurp at you for as long as it took, happy just to dedicate her talents to this evolving challenge.
It was during just such a morning moment that you received a video call from your publishing agent. Forgetting yourself, you answered immediately. Good fortune being that the camera was angled high enough that he would catch no sight of your girl working away earnestly below your waist. The man himself was named Graham, an older gentleman in his early fifties. He had been working with you for so many years now that you were more like family friends than simple colleagues. He knew you and your daughter well and would send birthday presents and christmas cards to you both, asking how her school life was going and whether you were going out and getting enough exercise. You trusted the man immensely, both personally and professionally and couldn't ask for a better guide through the complicated world of literature networking.
"Hello Sir!" He opened with in his normal cheering manner. "I've just finished looking over your last few month's submissions... Excellent stuff!"
You glanced momentarily down at your daughter below the desk. She'd cheekily decided this was the moment to start sucking in and nibbling at your balls. Eyes glinting up at you with distracting glee. The old man on the screen continued on, unawares.
"I've got to say, something's definitely changed in your style of late... not that I'm surprised after all that's happened. You've slowed down a bit, but the quality of what you're sending is just so high I can't begin to complain. It's almost a different story altogether to be honest... One full of dark and secret happenings hidden just below the surface... It makes me shiver almost... but in a good way! You might have to go back and alter the start to make it fit, but boy, I'm not going to stop you now you're on a roll."
The girl was sucking on you as hard as she could now, like a warm, wet vacuum clamped to your cock. You had to grip the desk slightly with one hand to deal with the pressure of it and could only answer Graham in nods and grunts. He paid no heed.
"Now, is the young lady of the house around? I'd like to say hello, now she's off school."
This startled you. Not that it was a particularly unusual request of his, he and your daughter had a teasing, amiable friendship as much as you did. She was fond of the old eccentric and he, having no children of his own, spoilt her as the daughter he'd never had. Pointedly not looking down you called out to the house at large: "Honey! Grahams on the line! He'd like to say hello!"
Down below you felt a pair of lips leave you as the girl shuffled her way back out from under the desk. She stood up and stomped loudly to the door before bouncing back toward you, illusion achieved. Once she was in view of the camera she had to be quite careful however, the loose-fitting, checked shirt she was wearing was the ONLY thing she was wearing. She sidled her way in front of you, keeping her naked crotch below the level of the desk, but then reached down behind herself as she plonked into your lap. This of course meant that while she bobbed a friendly hello to the old man and began chatting to him about school, you found yourself buried up inside her. She bounced around quite innocuously while telling her tales, yet each bump sent shivers up your spine at the thought of fucking her in front of this innocently unaware old friend. When they had finished catching up she leant back to allow both of you in the shot, while continuing to grind her hips in circles atop you. Graham smiled to see you still so close with each other after all these years.
"What I was going to say to you both was that I have just gained access to a little holiday lodge, up in the mountains. Now, I know you're both not big fans of crowded resorts or other such tourist destinations. But, if you'd like, you are both very welcome to head up there at the end of summer, to get away from all the hustle and bustle. It's buried deep in the forest, right near a river and has all sorts of amenities, up to and including a hot tub I believe! It's already booked to be all yours for a week, should you desire, with plenty of room to bring a friend or two as well."
Your daughter practically ricocheted with excitement, bounding up and down on top of you and simply mixing her joy of this proposal with that of secretly engulfing you. She leant forward to hug the computer screen. Presumably giving the old man a generous view of what cleavage she had, while simultaneously allowing her more time to bump her hips against your lap, your cock finding itself gulped in and out of its own close embrace.
"I'll take that as a yes." Said the agent, after he was finally freed from a screenful of teen. "Well excellent, I'll send you the keys and directions as soon as possible. In the meantime, you two look after each other, alright? And make sure your Dad keeps working hard, y'hear me angel?"
"You can count on me Unc!" Your daughter gave a bouncing salute. "I won't let him go soft for a minute!" They both chuckled at that as the call was ended, though you suspected for very different reasons. Then he was gone. Your girl turned round to kiss you. Then proceeded to continue fucking herself upon you, slowly and unobtrusively... while you got back to work.
Chapter 2, A Room with a View
As the summer days trickled on, blue skies sliding past, life became a comfortable drift from one into the next. Your daughter had begun waking up later and later, whiling away the evenings with you then snoozing through till noon.
Naturally you also began slipping into such a pattern, but as an older traveller, adapting to such changes in pace took longer. Often you would wake to find her still snoring softly beside you, the sun beaming high through the curtains. No longer were you blessed with the instant gratification of her morning attentions, but you did not mind. Sometimes you woke her yourself. Sometimes you would simply use her sleeping beauty as an erotic expresso, leaving your own shot of cream upon her to wake up to. More often though, you would simply leave her to rest, safe in the knowledge she would come claim some herself when she was ready. The pair of you simply drifted in and out of each other these days, there being no separation between the times you were making love, from the times you weren't. You tantalised each others nerve-endings whenever it felt right to do so: you'd spank her peachy cheeks whenever they looked in need of reddening, she'd swallow down your cock whenever her tongue told her it craved the taste, or simply spend hours idly plying it between soft fingers while focussed on other things.
Still, you got the feeling this lifestyle was beginning to bore her. This was all that she'd once aimed for and she revelled in its accomplishment. But... even your mind kept drifting back to those few, more adrenaline-fueled moments: When you had both been testing the limits of each other. Risking discovery by chance or fault. It was not safe to crave such things... not sane to lose sight of how dangerous this taboo normality of yours already was. Yet, both of you felt the same dark inclinations to go further. You were sure of it. You began catching twinklings in her eye whenever a new idea formed, schemes that worried you more by their failure to become apparent. You even took her back to that windswept headland, in the hopes of regaining the reinvigorating experience you'd had yourself there. It did not work. The journey was safe and contrived. No surprise barriers appeared. No unlooked-for observers. You went there and fucked. It was pleasant enough.
So it was no great surprise to you that she began to go back to her old habits of scanning the internet and television for arousing amusement. Porn became a backdrop to your existence once more. She watched it, she listened to it. She painted and sketched it in creative escapades of an afternoon. Some of them were incredibly good actually, she had a real flare for catching moments of imagined debauchery; perfectly capturing the euphoric or leering faces of her subjects. She would paint scenes of young girls surrounded by faceless men, delighting in a rain of cum falling upon them. She inked a young man accosted by herds of tiny naked fairies: Biting and caressing him in equal measure. Tearing his clothing and clambering over his body. Another showed a shadowy feminine figure smiling viciously down at you, translucent black gown flapping open as she pressed a heel down toward the observer.
You were awed by her ability to produce such masterpieces, and so quickly. Enough that you couldn't argue when she began to position them around the house. You supposed you could take them down again if you ever had visitors. As it was, only little Jane ever entered your sanctuary, and she was very proudly shown every new creation as it was produced. Blushing at the subject matters, but seemingly unsurprised by them.
You managed to ask her why once and the girl simply replied: "Oh, she always paints things like that in school... A substitute teacher made a complaint about it once, but Miss Fae stuck up for her with the principal. Said it was 'healthier for a young lady to be exploring this sort of thing in art, than repressing it all her life or having it jumped upon her by strange men.' He dropped the complaint... Most of the male teachers don't like to argue with Miss Fae."
A cryptic answer. And one that brought your child's relationship with her personal tutor to mind again. The two seemed to have a strong bond. Heck, the woman was the only teacher you had ever heard your girl talk about enough to remember the name of. Yet the hostility she'd shown that other day had been real and strong. So your daughter had been producing such lewd imagery all along, proudly and in public. Yet her primary educator had been nothing but supportive. You were not sure where that left you, in terms of outside suspicion over the double life you both led, or in indications of your child's mentality.
Jane hardly seemed to think any of it was particularly odd... but then the short ginger girl was beginning to strike you as one of the most oblivious people you had never met. Not stupid, by any means, just... detached... distant... Away with the fairies. Like she was too shy to even really dwell in her own skin, preferring to be off somewhere else and let others lead her body around. It was one of the things that worried you a little about the girl, and seemed to draw out what remained of your parental spirit. You could see a similar effect in your daughter too, she genuinely cared for her friend and seemed determined to try and pry her out of this shell.
There were other changes going on in your home too. Visible indications of the shifting dynamics therein, akin with the dripping distribution of overt artwork. Your daughter kept making requests of you to purchase various home-decor supplies. It became her regular excuse to call Jane round, to get her to help with this or that grand idea for redecorating a room. Her friend always looked to you in puzzled askance as they set out on these endeavours, but you had never had much interest or conditions for such things. You were happy to let them paint and drape and shape such things, it washed away some old, painful memories. Slowly your child's boudoir stylings were claiming the whole building. Giving it a sensual, film noir-esque cabaret overcoat.
You could still see the hippyish traces of her absent mother, but now with a deeper, shadowier flourish of unchecked teenage sexuality. You were fairly certain it was how your girl imagined brothels in Paris looked, having never seen anything but hollywood's visions of such. Either way, such projects kept her out of trouble and, you had to admit, did provide quite suitable surroundings for you to incestuously invade her every other hour.
Chapter 3, Life as a Canvas
One morning, or more accurately during the last dregs leading toward noon, your daughter piped up with another of those creased-brow-teased requests. She had just finished breaking her fast with her usual, salty few-gulps of you: A between meal snack that was increasing in regularity again, rules be damned.
When out of nothing more than the blue skies and bitter taste on her tongue, she asked if she could 'paint' you this afternoon. Now, you had never been much of a vain man... Seeing no particular reason to step in front of a mirror more than to check you had actually remembered to put on pants this morning. Plus, while her various erotic creations so far might be considered in bad taste, one OF you led you more toward that awful word... Evidence. Yet, looking down into her innocent query; lapping up the last dribbles of your ejaculate, and having only just become parley to her budding talent... You found it impossible to refuse.
Thus, a few hours of preparation later, during which you tried, and failed, to get any work of your own done. You approached her neatly arranged workshop, out on the veranda.
Two things surprised you as you sidled through the sliding doors: One: the set up arrayed before you looked nearly identical to the one when you were receiving a massage; and Two: Jane was there, looking as nonplussed as you felt, perched to one side as her best friend bustled about. Your daughter hardly noted your arrival, so busy was she in digging through old boxes for tubes of paint. Yet from inside one of these boxes came the off-hand command: "Okay, take your clothes off Dad." Spoken as casually as it ever was when you were alone, not that it ever really needed saying. However, in present company, it resulted in those two nonplussed faces turning instantly bright red.
"Is that...errm... necessary? I mean... or err? Appropriate, Love?" You replied, surprising yourself by not needing to feign embarrassment, even after all the time you'd spent naked in just her presence.
Your daughter didn't seem to even acknowledge your reason for being so, still buried in her supplies. "What? Yes. Both. Why not?"
"Well because... Jane... and you're my daughter... Neither of you wants to see..." You played it well... truly hoping she'd catch the hint and wasn't really so haphazard about protecting your secrets...
"Ah! Found em!" Was her first reply, turning around with what was clearly a specific plastic box of paints. Still seeming puzzled by the fact that you were not undressing.
"Jane doesn't mind, she's used to helping me work with nude models. Besides... she knows we're more relaxed about that sort of thing in this family..." She laughed, cleanly and honestly. That jaunting peel warmed your heart and relaxed you.
"So stop making it more awkward than it has to be and get your kit off Dad! We'll turn around if you want... but it won't make much difference in a minute..."
Out of excuses, you did as you were told. The girls indeed turned around in modesty until you were positioned face down on the massage mat as instructed. From there it was much the same as any other time you'd received a massage while Jane was present: You just did your best to keep things covered for her, though what kind of painting required all this you were still clueless to. The girls chatted conspiringly to each other in a corner, looking over some sketches your offspring had drawn. You just tried to relax and catch a few moments of dozing while they planned out whatever they were up to.
It was with great surprise then, that the next thing you felt was an intense tickling against your back. You jumped, startled by the experience, only to receive a stern: "No moving Dad! You'll ruin it!"
Glancing back over your shoulder you were greeted by the vision of both young girls leaning over you, thin paint-brushes pinched in their fingers. In an instant it all became clear... You were not having a portrait painted of you, you were having artwork painted on you. Not for the first, or for the last time: You were amazed both by your daughter's wicked creativity in finding new ways to tease and tempt you... while hiding all signs of her plans.
You were trapped now. Pinned beneath the delicate bristles of two lovely young ladies, nothing but a canvas full of nerves that they were carefully alighting upon. There was nothing else to do but slump back down and enjoy the experience. Trying to work out which was which by the feel of the stroke and wondering which would be worse to be aroused by...
Chapter 4, A Mess of Exposure
Time ticked away beyond your notice as you lay in half-dappled sun. You had closed your eyes and become nothing more than a receptor for art and the tactile sensations of it being applied. The constant dance of two brushes upon your back was mesmerising, a constant stream of lightly focussed movements. The initial strokes tickled a little, but never reached the point of irritation. You could feel the careful intensity and dedication of each girl as she manoeuvred them across you; whether in long, sweeping curves or delicate, feathering flourishes.
Always this was followed by the cooling breath of the paint: Highlighting every slight breeze that passed in fading intensity as the liquid dried. They crisscrossed your back in perfect symmetry, but alternating paces. Misting your mind into guesses of who was where and where else they might head next. They passed up to your neck and shoulders, then down to your arms and calves. You half expected avoidance of your bared ass, or giggles. Yet everything was done in perfect seriousness, except for one smiling comment from your daughter... About how it would be a lot easier if you'd let her wax your legs. You hurriedly declined.
And then it was done... or at least your rear half was. You were in such a coma of relaxation that you hardly noticed the dropping of tools or ceasing of caresses until their ghosts had truly faded. You certainly didn't need to be told not to move still, just to let the last bits dry. What did wake you up however was the next instruction, not directed at you:
"Okay Jane, your turn! Get yourself undressed..."
You worked very hard in that moment to maintain composure. To keep your eyes shut, but not be visibly clenching them so. You could almost feel the embarrassed burn of the red-headed girl's doubts as they glanced down at you. Yet, seconds later... You heard the unmistakable tumble of several pieces of clothing hitting wood, and the patter of small feet moving to lie on a smaller mat next to you. You kept your lids closed, but your head was caught facing her and you could not help your imagination filling the gaps of her movements. With great effort you remained blank and impassive... Feigning that previous comatose state while in actuality your nerves were all firing lightning at random.
You became intensely aware of a throbbing down below, as your cock was compressed by both body weight and willpower, but still jumped at each thought of what view you were missing. Why was your daughter doing this? Was it a test of loyalty, for you or her friend?! Was she judging your reaction to any other girl she arrayed naked before you? Or was she truly so ambivalent and trusting in the naturistic nature she imagined for your household? Was she hoping to one day simply get all visitors to hang up their clothing at the door?
You mulled over these thoughts, using them as distractions from the moment. As the gentle sounds of painting began again, this time upon another. You held out as long as possible, eyelids glued together. But eventually, you just had to know! Your neck was cramped with built up pressure. What vision was laid out before you? Surely by now the other girl would have relaxed and closed her own eyes, drawn into the sensations as you had been. You opened your eyes...
And were immediately met by the glint of cool green orbs.
She was staring at you. Clearly in a slight, cloudy daze, but awake and aware. You could do nothing but keep yourself pinned to that stare and offer a smile, innocent and reassuring. She smiled back, as if finally content about something... Then closed her own sight, dissolving into the experience you had just shared.
You looked up at your daughter, straddling her naked friend in a paint-splattered pair of denim dungarees. From this angle you could see she was wearing nothing else underneath: her small tits appearing, unfettered, whenever she leant forward. She gave you a knowing look and cheeky smile. A moment that said a thousand words and gave nothing but permissions. Then she focussed back on her work, ignoring you completely as she slathered her friend in colour. Leaving you to drift your vision across the two of them.
Jane's skin was pale as ice, scattered only with the occasional freckle. She lay face down upon her own arms, surprisingly ample breasts exposed at their sides and pressed against the floor. Her body was smooth and curving, not as thin and limber as your daughter's but fuller and more womanly. Her ass rose up behind your daughter's; one resting against the other, clothed and unclothed. The trust she put in your girl was so apparent in all of this: She was willing to be seat, canvas and, unknowingly... a weapon in a battle of incestuous love. All for her adoration of your child.
You were not sure whether to feel pity or pride over their relationship. But could not deny your own delight in the rewards of it. They were two pictures of youthful beauty, and your girl had clearly set both before you intentionally. Yet another confusing twist in her games.
Chapter 5, A Question of Inspiration
You had time on your hands as your daughter worked away upon her friend... Slowly spreading winding patterns across her body.
It was fascinating to watch: Entwining vines of colour and feathered expression, slowly drawn into being on soft flesh. There were patterns and logic to it, you were well aware... but from this angle and appearing only shade by shade... each section remained a mystifying tangle up until the very moment it was finished. You were hypnotised by both your child's skill and the way it drew out the already considerable beauty of her chosen workspace. You wondered if your own back was truly able to hold similar magnificence, but could only catch glimpses upon craning your neck.
Jane was incredibly pretty, you realised you had never really noted that before, whether due to her incessant shy demeanour or the modest way she dressed. It was only now she lay exposed before you that it became clear. You almost felt predatory simply in being allowed privy to that fact. She had kept her face down, buried in her arms, for the rest of your daughter's work so far. Yet you had caught the glint of her eyes watching you again every so often... whenever she thought you weren't looking. In order to try and ease her discomfort, you tried to start up some sort of conversation with your young artist. To distract yourself from her friend's nakedness if nothing else.
"This is incredible honey! Where on earth did you even get the idea for it?"
Your daughter swished another dash of red across soft skin, not looking away from her efforts for a second. "From Luscious Lisa, of course... My favourite muse."
"Who?" You held no particular recollection of this strangely-titled woman, though you had certainly heard the name somewhere before.
"The famous model and video-artist?! Surely you must've heard of her Dad, you can't be that out of touch!"
Your blank face clearly told her otherwise. This time she did look at you, and sighed...
"Mom introduced me to her work... She even took me to her shows a few times. She was the first person to really blend performance and pornography together in such a unashamed, mainstream way that it stopped being taboo... She's part of this whole amazing family that shoot cam shows and porn movies from their mansion home. They have a huge cult following and even a whole community of fans that moved into the town close to them, sort of shutting it off as a secret sanctuary."
Your girl's eyes practically glowed at the mention of this, clearly alight with imaginings of what went on there.
"But there's all sorts of rumours that come out. Like that no-one ever wears clothes there and they just make love with whoever they like... whenever they feel like it! There's even whispers that she and her sisters all have children from their one brother and raise them all together as one big, happy family."
She looked at you pointedly at this, but then seemed to catch herself and turn almost as red as Jane.
"But anyway... She's always done this style of artwork where she paints her models, normally members of her family, and then arranges them for photos or to go through dance routines or whatever. Which is what I want to do here... Take a few photos of both of you, then pick the best one and paint over that... Kind of like another layer of fantasy on top... You see?"
You did see... Sort of. Though the prospect of now being in posed photos with Jane was yet another previously unmentioned layer to this situation. Was that acceptable? I mean she was over the legal age, technically... You just wondered what her parents would think. There was little time to worry, however... With a final flourish, your daughter declared Jane's rear side "Finished!" and immediately told you to roll over.
Whiiiich presented a whole new level of concern. You had done well in concealing your dignity up to this point: Lying face down and fighting back any natural impulses as they came. But now she wanted you to open yourself to the room... the very young lady who had dedicated herself to generating and utilising said impulses at every opportunity. There just wasn't a hope in hell you could hold back an erection if she began clambering all over you again. And though Jane appeared to be fast asleep for the moment, she could very well wake back up at any time!
You gave your daughter a wide eyed glance, but she pretended not to notice. Leaving you little choice but to play along, else draw attention to the very issues you wished to avoid. Thus it was with great trepidation that you found yourself staring up at the panelled roofing of your own veranda, naked as the day you were born and barely a foot away from an innocent stranger in similar circumstances.
Chapter 6, While Beauty Sleeps
It was with a despicable grin that your daughter approached this time. Wondering why... You craned your neck to follow her gaze:
Jane was lying completely still now, her eyes flickering slightly but her breathing slow and shallow. Clearly asleep. You returned your attention toward the approaching predator and shook your head vigorously... It was still far too dangerous! She continued to creep forward though, on all fours like an animal, raising a thin finger to her lips.
Reaching out, she plucked a clean brush from the water-pot as she came, keeping that slow prowling pace. She crawled onto the mat between your legs and set it against your inner thigh, dragging a trail of wetness up the musculature. When she reached your balls she carried on, up and over: A thin line of feeling drawn all the length of your shaft. The soft bristles were flicked across the head of your cock, then played around the contours of it. This she followed with her tongue, a long, luxurious lick, like a cat upon cream. She played with this combination for a while: wide, wet tongue on one side. Thin, sharp brush on the other... Experimenting with the sensations she could generate in you as she had when first exploring her rights to your body.
However her true task was not completely forgotten. Once she had teased you suitably that there was no chance your erection would fade back into safety... She moved over to one side of you and drew her palette of paints within reach. Positioning her body between you and Jane she began working on her intentions for your chest. Layering paint onto the very instrument she had just been torturing you with. Meanwhile her other hand took charge of its usual role, stroking up and down your length in a steady beat. Thus you could find no separation between the application of her art and the perversions you undertook together. They were one and the same, as you had always really known. You simply lay back and let the feelings wash over you, praying that you would cum before Jane woke up again...
There was no such luck though. You were far too used to the casual motions of your daughter's hand. This was how you spent so many afternoons after all... while reading together or watching television. It wasn't that her efforts were no longer pleasurable, just that your body was so used to them as to prolong the experience near indefinitely. She could make you cum whenever she wanted, but knew how to delay that moment just as well. When had she become such a controlling master of your physicality? You realised the process had been so gradual but continuous that you had not noticed.
Jane still slept, but you were no closer to climax when your daughter ran out of places she could reach to paint than when she started. You were not in the least bit surprised when she clambered on top of you to gain a new vantage. You could see in her eyes the burning desire that had built up inside her while she maintained such outward composure. Throwing caution to the wind she slid your cock up one of the legs of her dungarees. The short denim tube was loose about her thigh, allowing room for your width to share the space. At the top you felt a sodden void waiting for you. She couldn't quite manoeuvre you inside her at this angle, but she could rest your helmet against her eager slit. She leaned in close to your chest, being careful not to smudge her earlier imagery. She kissed you, long and deep... Then set to work finishing the top of your chest and over your shoulders. Meanwhile her hips bobbed up and down... Grinding your shaft through a passage of soft denim and dipping you in and out of her gushing entrance.
For ten minutes or more she fucked you more with her clothing than herself. Gradually increasing her rate of breathing and struggling to keep her hands steady. You yourself had lost all ability to move or complain, lying back while this young bundle of talents fucked herself upon you. Until at last your body gave in to the joy of it. You felt spurt after spurt of semen, squeezed by the tight grip of her outfit, splash up the insides of its crotch. Your daughter sat back up upon you, grinding her hips into this mess. Jane was forgotten, the painting was finished, all there was left was this climax...
Only, suddenly Jane was not forgotten. A sudden hint of movement caught both your eyes. Snapping your necks round like rabbits in headlights you both turned to meet a groggy-looking girl, lifting herself up off the mat and rubbing her face in confusion. With a gasp she suddenly squeaked in embarrassment and rolled back round to face the other way.
"Sorry! Sorry!" She screeched, in a panicked but muffled voice... "I forgot I was naked!...I didn't mean to flash myself at you, Sir!"
You and your daughter looked at each other, caught in between humor and pure terror... As your erection shrank back from her cum-drenched crotch. Laughter won out, as she clambered back off you. Taking the chance while Jane was still cowering.
"I wouldn't worry about that too much Jay-Jay... I've just finished on Dad's front for the moment. Which means it's your turn again next. Don't be shy though, I assure you... He's seen it all before..."
And with that the room returned to only the generally awkward space of industry it had been before. Your daughter slaved away, decorating the front of her friend with a dazzling tangle of coloured patterns. While you tried not to keep glancing at the occasional drip of white liquid that slipped down her leg. Jane was mostly far too caught up in her own embarrassment, yet also clear delight, in the attentions of her friend's brush; to spot those. Yet she also kept glancing at you, in a way that you were not entirely comfortable with. Never for long. Never in suspicion. But always with a sort of lingering, longing sense... that drew back that unplaceable pity you held for her.
Once again you got the feeling there was more to the girl's simplicity than she let on, and perhaps less truth in her blindness to you and your daughter's relationship than you would like to believe.
Chapter 7, Love's Unfair Use
Once Jane was completely decorated: Your daughter's artwork crisscrossing her entire nubile form from front to back... Said daughter excused herself, claiming she needed to go collect her camera equipment and 'freshen up'.
Of course, you were aware 'freshening up' in this instance involved trying to work out how to deal with a pair of dungarees internally sodden with cum. The thought brought back uncomfortable rushes of blood to places you had hoped had been sated enough to stay quiet. Yet, before she went, your girl made absolutely sure such awkwardness could not be avoided:
She requested that Jane finish off the last bits of your painting that were left to do. Of course the ever-obedient friend leapt into agreement without a moment's thought. It was only when she trotted over to the illustrated design she was supposed to follow... That she realised her mistake. That grand pink blush reassembled across her cheeks. The only places upon you left unpainted were those which, moments before, your daughter had been straddled over: A thigh-sized band across your crotch.
Still... The shy redhead made no comment or complaint. She simply gathered up the brush and paints she needed and approached. She did keep averting her eyes from you though, it was clear this was making her extremely uncomfortable. And why should it not?! It was a wholly unreasonable task for your daughter to ask of her! You had to offer the girl an outreach of escape.
"You don't have to do that Jane, if you don't want to... I'm sure she'll be back in a minute and can finish it herself..."
The girl's cheeks only reddened further, but there was a determination in her eyes too, and confusion. As if going against your daughter's order was just not something that computed within her. "No... She asked me to. I don't mind."
You tried a different approach... Maybe a direct drawing of attention to the problem might scare her off: "But... I have an... It's not right to make you go near my..." You couldn't quite get the words out yourself.
Jane shook her head, long hair flopping left and right. Then seemed to force herself to look directly at your budding new erection. The force of that stare only increasing its formation.
"It's only natural isn't it? Boys get... Those... When they feel good? The painting felt really nice for me too... So I can't get upset about you liking it too, can I?"
Each one of these rationales came out more as a question than a statement of her own thoughts. Almost asking for permission to apply her own logic. Still... She didn't allow argument. The small, naked beauty set up shop next to you and got straight down to work. Dipping her brush into a splatter of colour and starting from the very edge of your hip.
It was happening. As with anything your daughter seemed to plan, your own feeble protests had little effect. You decided the best thing you could do for the girl was simply try to retain an air of normality. After all, this was actually the first time you'd been alone with her without your daughter. You may as well try to learn a little bit more about the intriguingly-tempered young thing and her relationship with your flesh and blood.
"You're... really close to my daughter aren't you? More than I'd thought... She said she helped you out with some other girls one time?"
The redhead's eyes snapped up to you in a sudden motion. For a second you almost thought you saw a flame flicker in them, the likes of which you could scarcely believe this coy little creature could contain. Her voice was momentarily made of steel. Though this quickly softened back down into a far-away sounding bliss of admiration.
"More than once. Every day! She's the only one who's ever looked out for me. Whatever they all said about me, whatever they whispered behind her back... She just laughs it all away. It's like she doesn't care at all about what they think... Not even a little... She's so calm and smart and pretty... I... I wish I could be just even a little bit like her..."
Jane's voice faded away into a daydream, even as her working brush got closer and closer to your standing shaft. It became clear to you now that the girl's feelings were more than just grateful admiration. Did that make this current situation less threatening? Did it make your daughter's apparent use of her as a means to play games with you more exploitative? You had no answers to either.
Suddenly you felt a tickle at the base of your penis. The girl had reached that milestone with her swishing brush. A small, cool hand pulled that stiff flesh into a more accessible orientation, while the other began twisting a coiled snake of colour around and around and up its length. This wasn't the overt sexual teasing of your daughter's earlier efforts, it was concise and directed work, carefully layering in detail. Yet the pleasure of such a touch was undeniable. At that moment your daughter reappeared, camera around her neck, but all other clothing discarded. Seeing where her friend's attention lay she quietly offered you another of those sickeningly insightful smiles, as if every thought in your head was being teased and tested. When Jane noticed her arrival, her eyes barely moved anywhere else. Tracking those thin, swaying hips around the room with a hunger and intensity you realised must be comparable only to your own. A sudden guilt came over you at the thought that you had claimed so many times everything this precious young creature so clearly wanted.
And then... the afternoon ended. It seemed to flash out so quickly, a candle in the evening wind. Your daughter arrayed both you and Jane in a wide variety of compromising positions around and against each other. Snapping them up through her lens like a erotic image predator. But each one flew by so quickly and your new-found certainty that your scene companion was far more focused on the body behind the camera than either of those in front dissolved most of the left over tension. You found yourself pressed up against the pale skin of this self-doubting beauty again and again, and felt only more pity and admiration for her. For she truly was an attractive young thing. Whatever degradations the world had thrown at her to leave so little confidence, she deserved none of it.
You only hoped this infatuation with your child was one that could reform that strength, not drain it even further.