Even in The Best Families

In what circumstances should a teenage girl best discover the facts of life? Sex Ed class? The back seat of a Pontiac GTO? Or during one of those late-night mom-daughter chats? For young Shelley, her sexual initiation was to take a far more direct route – in bed with her parents!

**

But have you ever even thought about doing anything improper as far as Shelley is concerned Greg?” She was staring at her husband as one might a laboratory specimen. “Be honest with me, I promise I won’t hold it against you hun – I’m just interested.
“Jesus Christ,” Greg was thinking, “What father if he was honest had never once looked at his teenage daughter, if only in a moment of surging hormonal unrest, and wondered what it would be like to shove her face-down on the bed, tug those hot little panties down beneath that damnably clingy little nightdress and bring her fully up to date on sex-ed while she moaned herself stupid like Justin Beiber in the recording studio.
“Well Trace,” he replied, figuring the jury was gonna return a guilty verdict in any event,
“Since you ask, yeah, I guess I have noticed Shelley has kinda grown-up of late. Hard to miss really – well from a male viewpoint.” Tracey sat up straight in bed, hugging her knees.
“You’re avoiding my question though Greggy. Have you ever gone past the “noticing” stage? I mean…” she paused, looking for the right words, “Has it ever reached the, you know… fantasy stage?”
Greg was distinctly uncomfortable in the witness stand. “Come on Tracey,” he replied, “You’re asking me if I have ever thought about having sex with my own daughter?” He sat there staring at his wife. “You know?” he muttered, “All this research you’re doing for your Psyche major is messing with your mind Tracey. You’re gonna end up wondering if every man fits your lecturer’s profile of an urban rapist… if not the local neighborhood paedophile.”
“Don’t get mad with me hun,” she pouted, suddenly all hurt and vulnerable. “I was just wanting to get a male perspective here… especially from a guy with a pretty young daughter. Doesn’t mean I think you’re actually gonna try anything with her – God forbid!” He studied his still very attractive wife, barely past her mid thirties. Aggression he had learned early in life, was a handy defense tactic.
“Ok Trace, now you be honest with me. OK?” She slipped effortlessly into her cute-as-a-button look! “Does the thought of me doing stuff to Shelley turn you on at all?” He saw the look of abject horror cross her face at much the same time he heard the sharp intake of breath. He couldn’t be sure, but that looked much like a suppressed blush she was battling to come to terms with concurrently.
“How could you ask such a thing Greg?” she responded abruptly.
“I’ll take that as a “Yes,” I think,” he smirked, half aware suddenly that the subject matter was causing a stiffening of his nether regions, an actuality which might be construed as counter-productive under the circumstances. Now his wife was visibly blushing. “Shelley’s just a young girl Greg,” she muttered, “Our fifteen-year old daughter… let’s get real here!”
“Well you started the topic Trace,” he replied, moving across to her and running his hand suggestively up her thigh. “I can’t be responsible for what might happen.” He had reached the hem of her nightdress and began pushing the soft material upwards. She wasn’t breathing all that regularly he noted with keen interest. Idly watching the progress of her hemline as it inched its way north, she became curiously aroused. At the point her panties were exposed, she felt deliciously alert to the possibilities, and making no pretence at closing up her legs, allowed her husband’s hand free- passage to its fully indecent destination.
Greg of course was slipping his hand up inside his daughter’s panties right that moment. Only the rising tide of his wife’s arousal snapped him back to the real world. “Jesus Trace,” he mumbled, “You’re really up for it tonight aren’t you?” he added, in response to the already accumulated moisture on-site. “Sure you’re not thinking about our conversation just now?”
The fact is, Tracey was imagining those very fingers encroaching upon her daughter’s undoubtedly virginal and fully-unchartered genitalia. In her mind, she could hear already the delicate gasps as the girl’s father relieved her first of her PJ’s and subsequently her tight little panties… Never had Tracey been so wet. In no mood now for continued foreplay, all she wanted was his appendage as far up her slippery little pussy as she could get it. Greg’s needs mirrored his wife’s decadent urges and pushing her back on the pillow he was stunned to see her lying there, legs spread to the max, as she held her panties aside for him like a cheap whore. It was a look he could get used to.
Not by any stretch of the imagination could the casual observer have declared this to be a love-making session. Greg simply was raping with impunity, the local slut whose personal needs ran to getting herself fucked insensible on a regular basis. Not exactly a case of intended synchronicity, yet both participants reached their orgasmic plateau at the same moment. It was only seconds past the finishing line that she realized her bra straps either side had been snapped in her husband’s frenetic need to disrobe her. Both breasts she noted with not a little satisfaction, bore the marks of intense groping, while her nipples quite evidently, could have supported a four-player tag-team of hoop-la! As they floated jointly into that post-coital haze of shared-contentment in which the principal activity is that concerned with a leveling out of the respiratory process – neither were game to air their suspicions as to their partner’s agreeably hands-on participation in what could justifiably be termed. “the union of the month.” After all, why run the risk of self-incrimination?
“Goodnight hun,” she mumbled, turning over contentedly.

**

Throughout the following day, Greg’s mind just wasn’t on his job while Tracey found concentrating on household chores, not far off impossible.