You....

The sound, though soft and muffled, wakes me. I glance at the clock through my still half closed eyes -- 12:30 AM. I listen and hear the sound again. Uneven, subdued, but distinct from the white noise of the fan in the forced air system. Groggily I step out of bed and make my way into the hall. In the half light from the moon window I can see that your door is ajar. And I can determine the noise is coming from within. I walk quietly to the door, unsure what to expect, but certainly not what I see.

You, naked, spread eagle on the bed you grew up in, atop the the colorful bird and butterfly comforter your mother bought you six years ago, just before she passed away. You, with your back arched, holding the teddy bear I bought you 12 years ago pressed against your crotch, grinding furiously against your bald pussy. You, with your head thrown back, the decorative pillow with your first initial "N" supporting you, as your mouth bites down into the material of your own cotton panties. You, with your nipples stiff and erect, protruding from the curves of your natural nineteen year old teen breasts, with eyes rolled back as if having an out of body experience. You, as you moan into the self made gag, revealing the source of the sound, as your body crescendos into a spasm of ecstasy. You, as the squirt releases from your pussy to soak all around it.  You, cumming harder than your mother even came close to in all the years I spent with her.  You, jamming your fingers into the place from which the now drowned teddy bear has been discarded.  You, burying two fingers deep inside, hooking and curling for your g-spot. You, finding the internal button that sends you into another tidal wave of spray and pressure release.  You, multi orgasmic and sinfully mature beyond what your years should allow.  You, no longer the innocent, as the ease from which your fingers penetrated shows how you have enjoyed being filled many times before.  

You, inexplicably home from college without notice. You, as your body falls to a quiver, as the panties release from your mouth, as the bear rests wet between your thighs, in breathless bliss. You, as your head turns towards the door, as your eyes see me, as you half rise, startled by my presence. You, as you fumble for the blanket, as you stutter to speak, questionably blurt out "Daddy?!?!".

And me, in the door to the room I tucked you in at night for 18 years, clothed only in boxers, fully erect and aroused, leaking pre-cum from what I just saw, only able to utter back -- "Hey, You...."

And as you look, I strain with all my might to look away.  I strain with all my might to keep from exploding.  I strain with all my might to remember you are my daughter.  I strain, but I fail.  Too far gone from the imagery.  Too far gone from the sounds.  Too far gone from the scents.  Too far gone from the wet reflections around you.  I pulse, I groan, I weaken, I cum.  I cum without even as much as a touch.  I explode and leak through my boxers.  I groan and grab the door jam as my cream and seed run from the geyser like shot that darkens my only covering and runs down my thighs.  I shudder as I realize you have just made me cum harder than she ever did or could.  I involuntarily caress the throbbing mess that still pulses and leaks.

And then I look again at you.  You, speechless but with your fingers buried again.  You crying out in your third orgasm of the night.  You, eyeing what I just released with the hunger of one that knows what she craves beyond all else.  You, lost in your moan, spasm, and squirt as I reach for the door with my covered sticky hand.  You looking into my eyes, catatonic, as the door shuts between us.  
 

You, good night you.