Silk of Life

Emily

Many things crossed Emily’s mind on that run. The blazing hot ball of fusion that cascaded heat down upon her white shining skin, the pavement that boiled that heat back and threatened to scorch her feet every step, save for her running shoes – the list could drag on, but Emily was most preoccupied on what happened a week ago – the day mother had taken her two sisters and fled the house – the day she had slept with Ryan, her father. It had been among the most pleasurable moments of her life – the most releasing and fulfilling things she had ever done and yet she doubted herself. She doubted her action.

It wasn’t so much mother that concerned her, it was her sisters, Grace, and Marisol that concerned her. What would they be told about Emily and Ryan – would mother try and oust father for their union? Would she suffer any consequences? Did it matter? As she rounded the corner, she decided she didn’t want to care. She did – but pushed the uneasy feeling to the back of her mind.

Her sports bra was a style choice, her breasts were not large enough to require support, a normal bra would have worked fine. After 19 years on the planet the one asset of her body she was excited to see develop didn’t do much at all. A point of frustration for her. She jogged down the pavement, sweat beading on her forehead in the humid heat of the pacific northwest. Her chest shimmered – and her exposed midriff sported streaks of her bodies cooling mechanism. The air rushed past her, dragging away the heat.

Her father had admired her tits, even suckled them when they had engaged, he had claimed to love them, but she was daunted by the voluptuous women she saw flaunting their assets around her every day – and she knew college was only going to make that worse. It was another thought she pushed to the side as she rounded yet another corner. The final corner.

In front of her stood the most ordinary house, with a white garage door, and a blue door that held up a friendly second story. It was a home like any other. She came to a stop and took a few deep breaths as she jogged in place, letting her body cool down – the track team had taught her well. Sweat trickled between her breasts as she made her way to the front door and pushed it open. The scent of oregano and parsley wafting from the steaming kitchen rolled into her nostrils. Emily smiled – she loved when her dad cooked pasta, he always did so well. She closed the door behind her and rubbed an arm across her forehead ringing the sweat from her arm wit ha few shakes.

“Dad I’m home!” She panted.

“How was the run, sweetie?” The word made her smile. ‘Sweetie’ meant something so different, and so warm.

“Hot,” Emily replied, “Hot and humid.”

“Tis the season,” Father replied.

Emily walked into the kitchen, her body still glistening with the perspiration she had kicked up on her run. Ryan smiled at her as she approached – his blue eyes were piercing – they always were. Her face beamed in response, her face growing red, or was that her run. She could feel it flush under his look. It was so hungry now – the way his eyes walked over her body and settled on her hips. She leaned to one side kicking her waist out as seductively as she could – ugh it must look so cheesy.

“I should shower,” Emily said, “I’ve just exercised, I smell terrible.”

Ryan shook his head, “You smell wonderful.”

“No dad, that’s your cooking you’re smelling.”

“No, it isn’t, kiddo – first let’s feed you.”

He pulled the bowls from the shelf and scooped the spaghetti into it as Emily took a seat at the table. Sweat dripped off her nose, she wiped it away with her hand – ugh she felt so dirty and clammy. Her skin had begun to cool down, which made it sticky and unpleasant. Ryan brought the food to the table, setting his down first and crossing the table to set her down. His eyes fell to her exposed midriff. Emily leaned back slightly, to make sure her dad had a good view.

“We haven’t done anything since the first night,” Emily tensed with the question, “You don’t regret anything, do you?”

Ryan shook his head, “I only want what is best for you – and I spent so long wanting you, when you gave yourself to me, I took it.”

“So, you feel guilty,” Emily sighed, of course, he would. Who wouldn’t be?

“A little – but it made me so happy.” Ryan’s eyes settled back on Emily’s exposed stomach.

“Want to touch it?”

“Touch what?”

“Anything you want,” Emily figured it was time she instigated something – and her labia were tingling like someone had hooked up a car battery to them.

Ryan reached out a hand and hesitated. Emily put her fingers through his and drew him closer. The bowl clinked as he set it down and Emily drew him in. Their eyes met. Emily’s heart thumped in her chest as she looked at him – her body shook slightly, as if a cold chill had settled in her bones, and yet a how warmth was building in her body. A heat she thought would put that blazing fireball in the sky to shame.

“Emily,” Ryan whispered, “You are the best thing that ever happened to me.”

Her heart skipped a beat, “You mean that?”

“With all my heart. I love you beyond measure and as wrong as it sounds, I desire you in equal portions.”

Emily pulled Ryan’s hand to her stomach; they were inches from each other as her cold clammy skin met his warm rough hand – the hands of a working man. She let out the slightest gust of vocal approval and bit her lip. Ryan leaned in and their lips touched. Ryan wrapped a free hand around Emily and pulled her into the kiss. His grip was tight. He wrestled free of Emily’s fingers and laid his whole palm over her exposed midriff. He caressed it, circling her belly button.

His fingers dropped lower, circling lower until they touched the top of her shorts. Their kiss hadn’t stopped – Ryan’s tongue entered her mouth, slid alongside her own. The wet intimacy of the act was vibrant, and her love for him grew and blossomed like the sky on the fourth of July. Her hands were on his shoulders, pulling him down for the kiss – she wanted to keep him there at that moment, to maintain a perfect premium of his body within her reach, to stay connected to him. His fingers toyed with the string that held her pants on her hips, sliding over them. She broke the kiss to inhale as his fingers danced over the top of her nectar.

She spread her legs allowing her father access to her. He slid his hand over her shorts and between her thighs – then applied pressure. Her body sprung to life with the touch. Her pussy burned with painful anticipation, as he rubbed again, pulling her back into a kiss. He began to rub her, torture her body as he suckled on her lips – pulling from her throat gentle whimpers of desperation. Emily felt her soft lips swell – her channel weeping within.

“Oh god,” the words came from divinity, but they had nothing to do with the divine.

Then, like the devil he was, Ryan slid his fingers down her pants, pulling her underwear aside.