Nude Melissa

An hour later, Eammon, seated in his favourite chair in front of the television, a can of lager thoughtfully supplied by his daughter, turned his head in the direction of the front door.

"I'll get it!" Melissa called when the bell rang.

4

"Did you do this? Did you set this up?"

Melissa rolled her eyes at her father's outburst. All that progress and he was back to his old self, as though the three of them under the one roof brought out the bad side to Eammon's personality.

Melissa reached for the remote control and pointed it at the television.

Silence until the girl said in a cool, calm voice purposely used to soothe her father, "Dad," do you trust me?"

Eammon's mouth opened and closed. He grimaced, seemed on the point of blurting an objection but simply flapped his arms in a gesture of either defeat or exasperation instead. He slumped back into the chair he'd shot out of at Julia's appearance.

Julia herself, taken aback by the unexpected reaction from her husband, said, "I thought you said--"

She cast a nervous look from her husband to her daughter.

"There are things we need to sort out," interjected Melissa, a hand by her face, palm out, eyes closed, and with her whole demeanour suggesting she was accepting no argument from either parent. "You," she snapped at Eammon, jutting her chin at the man. "Get Mum a drink. Get me one, too."

There was a pause while Eammon digested the barked instruction. To Julia he seemed on the cusp of exploding, giving vent to a rage, but, to her astonishment, eliciting a small smirk of satisfaction from his daughter, Eammon rose from his seat.

A terse, clipped question: "What would you like, Julia?"

Melissa was delighted. Okay, her father might be frosty, but she would work on him. She would work on both of them.

"Get her a gin and tonic, Dad. And, Mum, close your mouth, eh. You look silly like that."

"What did you do to him?" Julia asked as she stared at the door leading to the kitchen, the portal through which her husband had walked on route to his errand.

Melissa laughed. "Sit down, Mum." She gestured to the sofa with a sweep of an arm. "Let's all get used to being together, eh?"

Following a quick double take in Melissa's direction (there was that odd smirk again) Julia settled into the seat.

"Is everything all right, Mel?" The woman flicked an uneasy look towards the kitchen. "I thought you said he wanted to see me, that he would be pleased."

"Just go with it, Mum. I had to say that, eh, otherwise, would you be here now?"

Julia paused and pondered the veracity of that.

"Well, okay, yes, I see your point. But I don't think I should stay long." Julia looked at her daughter askance. "But the way you just ordered him to get me a drink ... And he did it! Wow, Mel, you said he'd changed, but..."

"Told you, Mum." Melissa took the seat next to her mother, relaxing against the corner and angling herself at forty-five degrees towards Julia, one leg folded with the foot under a buttock. "Just sit tight and leave it to me. I'll work on Dad." After a brief moment of silence and a long exhale now that she had her mother ensconced on the settee and her father mixing drinks, Melissa added, "This is nice, eh?"

In the meantime, in the kitchen, gripped by anxiety, worried about the apparent conspiracy between Melissa and her mother, Eammon poured gin, chinked ice cubes into glasses, mixed in tonic water and sliced lemon.

What the fuck was Melissa thinking? Inviting Julia to the house ... What if the girl said or did something inappropriate? She was only eighteen and capable of anything, especially with a drink inside her.

He could see it all going tits up, the wheels falling off the wagon. He had to get back into the living room and try to deflect any awkward moments as best he could. He could get rid of Julia. It would be easy enough to send her packing.

But Melissa, it seemed, wanted her mother there. What would she do if Eammon started with the heavy attitude?

"Shit, shit ... SHIT!" Eammon hissed, worried at his potential future. He wondered if Peru would be a good place to hide.

"You look good, Mum," Eammon heard Melissa say as he re-entered the living room. "Doesn't she, Dad? Doesn't Mum look gorgeous?"

Eammon handed a glass beaded with sweat to his wife. He had to concede that Julia did look good. Her clothes, the cargo pants, bare feet in silver sandals, wife-beater vest and loose hair suited her.

"You've lost weight," he remarked.

Julia accepted the glass. "Thank you. Cheers." She took a hefty swig and swallowed. "I suppose it's all the worry. I haven't eaten much lately." Her face titled towards her lap. "I'm so sorry about it all. I ... I was such an idiot..."

"You don't have to think about all that now, Mum," Melissa remarked as she smiled up at her father and winked. She took her own drink when the man offered it to her. "We're over that -- aren't we, Dad?"

Eammon hesitated. "Well, uhm..."

"Get another beer, Dad," Melissa instructed. "Relax. Calm down."

To her continued astonishment at the way Eammon complied with their daughter's commands, Julia gave a tiny shake of her head. "It isn't him, is it? The aliens have taken the real Eammon Morgan away and left this shell behind instead."

"It's him, Mum. But he's changed. Like I said in Costa, we've both changed."

"You also said he missed me," Julia shot back. "But he wasn't very welcoming when I got here."

Melissa leaned forward and, stretching across the gap between them, patted her mother's leg. "Are you happy with the way things are?" she asked, giving Julia's calf a squeeze before nestling into the corner of the sofa again. "Bunking in at Francine's place? Do you like the way your life's turning out?"

Eammon reappeared as Julia sniffed and dabbed at her eyes with the back of a hand.

"No," the woman mumbled, sniffing again. "Of course not. It's horrible ... The way we are. But I couldn't live like we were anymore."

Eammon felt the blade of remorse slide beneath his breastbone when Julia turned a stricken face towards her him. He'd done this to her. He'd been so focussed on work and Melissa, obsessed by desire to control her and torn by jealousy at the arrival of Ben on the scene, that he'd neglected his wife. This was his fault.

As was the incest.

The word hit him, the full meaning and implication of what had occurred between him and his daughter slammed into him like a train.

And what had Julia done to deserve his neglect? Nothing, she hadn't done a thing wrong. The realisation dawned that it was he who'd been instrumental in creating the rift in their marriage. He'd let things slide by spending more and more time at work, chasing a promotion to Chief Inspector. He was almost there, too, so close to furthering his career that, apart from his overblown need to protect his daughter, nothing else mattered.

Wasn't he taking care of Julia by ensuring he achieved the maximum pension possible by jumping up a rank in the police force?

No, Eammon had to admit, he wasn't looking after his wife at all.

And now his wife, Julia, his lovely, neglected wife was sitting there, her mere presence an accusation. Eammon fidgeted and swigged beer. He'd been a pig, an arsehole and a wanker of Olympic proportions.

But what could he do? What about the reaction -- a fucking whirlwind -- he'd receive from the people he knew if it ever got out that he'd slept with his daughter?

What made it worse was it was all his doing, he was to blame. Eammon could see it all so clearly.

After all, hadn't he been the one who'd spied on his daughter? Who was it who'd spied and lost control of his senses? And who had then succumbed to his base desires and masturbated while using a fantasy of his own daughter?

It was he, Eammon Morgan, police inspector, husband and father who'd allowed it all to happen.

"I'm sorry too!" Eammon blurted. "Julia ... Shit, Julia ... What have I done to us all?"

Quick-wittedness on Melissa's part saved them from disaster. Sure that her father was about to let it all out she intervened.

Melissa unfurled, placed the glass carefully onto the carpet and stood up. Going to her father she squatted in front of him and, with her forearms across his knees, looked up at him and said, "Dad, stop it. Don't take it all on like this. Things might have been awful back then, you might have been awful, but we're not bothered about what happened in the past. Remember? We've put all that away. What's important is now.

"You weren't the best husband, you might not have been a great dad for the last couple of years, but it wasn't always like that. I remember you as I was growing up, and you told me how it was with you and Mum ... When you first got married. Remember that?"

Eammon's eyes widened; he knew exactly what Melissa was referring to.

"And Mum hasn't been blameless in it all, eh?" the girl continued. She threw a look over her shoulder and offered her mother a smile. "That thing with Ben was a mistake. But she's admitted to making it. And Mum's got a big enough heart to take responsibility. Right, Mum?"

Julia looked startled. "Uh ... Oh, yes," she stuttered. "I told you I was sorry--"

"You see, Dad," Melissa went on, overriding her mother, "Mum's sorry. You're sorry ... I'm sorry, too. I was a brat. I rubbed Ben in your face. I knew you were only trying to look after me, but I pushed it."

She heard her mother mutter and saw her father's grimace at the mention of Ben. Melissa sighed and, shifting her weight onto her toes, slid her hands along her father's legs. She squeezed his thighs and couldn't supress a wry grin when Eammon tensed.

He thinks I might give his cock a quick rub. He's bricking it with Mum here.

"But," Melissa insisted, rising to her feet, "I thought we could all manage to start again." The girl paused. "With a few changes," she added.

Julia gaped at her daughter, again amazed at the girl's maturity and common sense outlook when the Melissa asked, "What do you think, Mum? Would you be willing to come home?"

"Oh ... I..." Julia's chin wobbled while a single tear slid over her cheek. She nodded quickly, unable to speak, her throat clogged up with a balloon of emotion.

Melissa pouted with approval and tilted her head. She smiled at her mother and then, turning to her father, she leaned in and kissed his cheek.

"Fuck her, Dad," Melissa whispered. "Do the brother and sister thing. Give it to her good. Turn her on and make her scream. Give her that big cock ... I'll suck her off you later."

Rising up from her father's dazed countenance, Melissa announced: "This could be my cue to disappear." She threw the smile at her mother again and waggled her fingers at her gobsmacked father. "I'll leave it up to you two," she giggled.

5

Julia Morgan, with the cargo pants and wife-beater vest in a forgotten pile on the carpet, lay beneath her husband, thrilled by the way things had turned out. Between her legs Eammon was slurping at her pussy, his tongue doing wonderful things, her clit throbbing.

"Isn't she a wicked girl?" Julia gasped.

Misunderstanding Julia's meaning, thinking -- despite all the clues to the contrary -- Eammon interpreted his wife's words to mean that she was aware of the relationship he'd been enjoying with their daughter.

He felt suddenly chilled and his stomach rolled.

"What?"

Julia gave a yelp.

"Don't stop," she breathed, a hand pushing Eammon's head. "Keep licking me."

"What do you mean 'wicked'?" Eammon insisted.

Julia rolled her eyes.

"For getting us together like this; for making us see the sense of putting all the ... the crap behind us." The woman moaned and purred when a much relieved Eammon lapped at her sex again. "That's it, darling. Lick it good. You always were a great face-fuck."

The man moved along his wife's body. "Remember what else we used to do?"

Julia felt a flip of deeper arousal when she saw her husband's expression. He looked so dangerous, so lupine, even licking his lips and staring at her with red-rimmed eyes. Just like she imagined the fabled wolf might look at Red Riding Hood.

"Remember what?" the woman responded, a tremor in her voice.

Eammon came back with a voice as dark as that wolf's soul.

"When we made Melissa. And the times we played at being brother and sister."

"God ... Eammon..." Lust flared inside Julia. Her pussy melted. "I remember that," she said, her voice curdled with illicit need. "That was so naughty. So dirty. It turned me on so much."

Eammon leaned in and kissed his wife, but, in the seconds before their lips touched, he whispered, "Taste your cunt on my tongue, Julia. Be my sister again. Kiss your brother and taste me before I stick my dick into your cunt."

Julia gulped and clawed at her husband's back, her legs coming up to clamp around his waist. He was inside her, filling her with that big cock she'd missed so much without realising it. The words he used and the suggestion of incest had her reeling. It was lovely, glorious to be there, beneath the man she'd loved so passionately once.

Where had it gone wrong? How had she let it get so bad?

But, no matter, they were together again. Eammon was inside her and she was clenching and oiling around his girth. She could hear her body squelching, obscene sounds that only served to inflame her further.

"My brother," she grunted. "Fuck me. I'm your dirty sister. You caught me wanking and showed me how hard you got seeing me."

Eammon joined in. He didn't know why Melissa had suggested he rekindle the role-play with his wife, but at that moment, with Julia writhing on his cock, her big tits rolling, that tight pussy clamped around him -- he didn't really care. What had Melissa said? To trust her? Well, he had little choice but to do exactly that. And, for once Eammon just let it go, let go of the reins, simply gave it up and allowed the fates to steer.

"You're my beautiful sister," he groaned. "I couldn't help it. When I saw you naked ... When I saw you wanking..."

The parallel between what he was saying and what happened with Melissa registered vaguely with the man: "I watched you and my cock got all hard--"

He bit back on the first syllable of his daughter's name just before it burst out of him.

Eammon remembered that this wasn't his daughter thrusting her pubis up to meet his urgent, downstroke.

"--Julia," he grunted, "I pulled my cock and watched you fingering your cunt. It was so sexy I came and came."

"That's bad," Julia snarled. She bared her teeth as she fucked upwards, desperate for all of Eammon's length. The use of the c-word, in the right setting, always got her hot. And this was the perfect fucking setting as far as she was concerned.

Eammon, unsure if she meant bad-bad or good-bad, but suspecting the latter, continued his relentless pounding. He'd drill the bitch deep, rip her cunt apart and then pour cum inside her.

"You're bad," he replied through gritted teeth of his own. Eammon twisted the role-play. "You're a dirty, nasty slut who seduced her father. I'm going to fuck you until you scream."

"Father?" Julia replied. "That's even nastier than you being my brother." But she didn't miss a beat, just kept on grinding away and mauled her breasts, one after the other, with a single hand.

Julia could only use one hand on her boobs because the other was wedged between her husband's body and her own. She fingered her clit, rubbing and rubbing at the slippery nub.

Appalled by his brush with faux-pas, but relieved at Julia's fervent reaction, Eammon maintained the rhythmic pistoning, drilling into his wife's body as though he were trying to spear her to the sofa with his dick.

"You like that, huh? You want me to be your Daddy?"

"Oh fuck," Julia bellowed. "I'm there ... I'm ... Fuckingwellthere!"

The woman climaxed, groaning and grunting, her whole body clenched until, with a huge burst of air she exhaled and juddered her release.

"You're coming inside me," she panted, feeling the flutter against her cervix, her husband's seed squirting from his cock as it pulsed inside her. "Give me all that creamy spunk!"

Afterwards, as they lay together, Eammon's cock still inside her body, while both of them cooled down, the man a heavy weight on top of her, Julia saw -- or at least she thought she saw, she wouldn't be certain half-an-hour later -- a shadow move in the deeper dark beyond the living room door.

In fact, she thought later, analysing the evening's events, hadn't Melissa closed the door on her way out? Julia thought the girl had pulled the door closed -- So how come it was ajar by a good three inches by the time she and Eammon had come together?

Without knowing it, Julia went through the same process of denial her daughter had experienced when Melissa had discovered the marks in the sandy soil. She chose to believe an alternative, her mind refusing to accept the possibility that someone had been watching.

Because, in this case, while Julia and Eammon had grunted and snarled through their incestuous role-play, there could only be one person who could have watched their rutting, and overheard, Julia was aghast to realise. If Melissa had seen them she would have been able to hear the obscene dialogue that had passed between them.

And Julia couldn't countenance that. No way. She couldn't accept that Melissa, their daughter, might have been there to witness that scene.

6

Two days later, Sunday, and Julia left the flat she'd used as a refuge. She loaded the few things she'd taken -- work clothes in the main -- into the Mini and hugged Francine, her friend and business partner, goodbye.

"Thanks," Julia said, holding her friend's upper arms, smiling at her in gratitude. "I don't know what I would have done without you. Thank you for letting me stay these last weeks."

"It ended well. I'm happy for you," Francine replied. "See you at work tomorrow."

Julia climbed into the Mini and, waving a hand at Francine who stood on the pavement outside her flat, drove towards her future.

At the house, with Eammon on duty (6am to 2pm shift), Melissa helped her mother unpack. It didn't take long and by eleven that morning Julia considered herself home.

"It's a lovely day out there, Mum," Melissa said when mother and daughter were in the kitchen. The girl nodded towards the patio beyond the French doors. "We could sit out there, in the garden. We could do a little sunbathing and have a drink?"

Julia was in the mood to agree.

"That sounds divine, darling. Finally, I can relax. It's been a stressful time." She grinned at her daughter. "I'll get changed and we can sit in the garden and laze the day away."

Twenty minutes later both women were outside. Two sun-chairs reclined beneath the shade of a huge umbrella with the diameter of a parachute. The brolly was redundant at first because Melissa and her mother preferred to bask in the sun. It would get used later, as they sipped tall drinks from sweating glasses, ice tinkling.

At least that was the idea in Julia's head.

"This is better than where I sunbathed at the beach," Melissa said, laid face down on a towel with her forehead resting on folded arms. It was the same towel she'd used in the clearing, the one upon which she'd experienced Ben's and her own father's loving. "A little more private," she added.

Julia shifted position, squirming on her own towel at her daughter's reference to the beach, still uncomfortable by any mention of that holiday.

"I used to go there with Ben," Melissa continued. She gave a brief, brittle laugh and rolled onto her side, one arm propped beneath her head, her temple resting on one clenched fist. "We found this secluded little spot. It was quiet, just off the track but not easily overlooked. Quite private but still not completely safe if you know what I mean." Melissa heaved a theatrical sigh. "I went there alone when Ben had gone but it wasn't quite the same."