Paula Cash - Closet Queen

John listened in rigid shock. He'd had a phone warning from Abby that Cheryl was on her way-but what defense could he prepare against her charges.

"Now, Cheryl, it's nothing like that. Your mother chose her own way. I've never tried to lay any trips on you. It was just unfortunate-”

"That lie about Abby's boyfriend stealing the necklace. You screwed her and gave it to her, didn't you! Went out of your mind for her b-beautiful body. Me-I got cheated out of Vassar and sent to this Midwestern dump to pull your chestnuts out of the fire. Poor idiot me, getting mauled all over campus for your crummy jewels and that cheap, crummy cunt!”

There was a letter-opener sitting on the coffee table in John's living room of the suite. She seized it and tried to stab the shocked, white-faced man. It wasn't the actual danger, he realized, as he struggled with the girl. It was the deep hate, the rejection of him that peeled him down to nothing in his daughter's eyes that hurt. Father and daughter struggled briefly and then he got the letter-opener away from her with only a nick on the wrist that bled a small amount.

"Why didn't you ram it into my heart!" he cried, near tears himself, "Cheryl, you're all I've got. All these years, just the two of us. I loved you deeply, did everything you wanted.”

"Yes, you did what I wanted, you crud," she wept, relaxing on the sofa. "As long as it didn't interfere with the degenerate activities of your hot prick.”

“It's not like that. You don't understand-”

“I understand this. After.tonight you're not my father. The mighty John Wallace, pillar of Brighton, respected, rich New York jeweler. I'm changing my name. I'm never going to see you again.”

"I've stayed away from women to protect you!" he cried. "I dropped one after the other because you didn't like them. I took you to dinner parties, plays, everything, and I never married. So once, just once-I get caught in passion-r”

"Once! I'd like to know how many young daughters of your customers you've managed to plug along the way!”

He gave a roar of rage to leap at her, dragging her up from the sofa to punch her out. She grabbed his wrists with her own fierce rage giving her strength and they swayed in locked tension, each wanting to get free to strike the other.

Something soft and warm plunged between them.

"Oh, no, oh, no, you've got to stop this," said Abby, who'd dressed quickly and followed Cheryl.

Cheryl gave a new scream of rage.

"You-you-ass hound!" cried Cheryl.

She jerked free of John and struck Abby on the jaw. Abby shot back and sat down on the rug with a crash, dazed. The Gypsy, which she wore around her neck, flew up and one side hung on her ear. She looked pathetic sitting on the floor. She wore only a thick robe, Cheryl's cut-off jeans and her boots, all of which she took time to grab up in her distress and desire to stop Cheryl.

The anger, some of it, drained out of Cheryl with that solid, satisfying blow on Abby's jaw. There was even a trace of blood.

"There'll be no more fucking of my father for you, babe," said Cheryl in an easier voice. "No more kinky sex trips for your wild cunt." She swung on her father. "As for you, you'll have to choose between us. If you ever touch her again, even see her, I'm gone forever.”

John who'd been too slow to stop Cheryl's blow, just glared at her. Abby rose slowly, glaring back at Cheryl.

"Listen to Miss Respectability! Everybody can see your problem, dear! You want to bed your father. You've lived like man and wife ever since your mother died, only without the sex. What is it? Four years? The longest sex tease in history. He can't go normal because some day, some way he might get in your pants. You-your crazy hang-up. You don't even understand that.”

It was Cheryl's turn to go white. She stood very still. “Tell me-about-my-crazy-hang-up.”

"Of course you can't have normal orgasms when you're wild to have your father inside of you. Every guy is just a substitute for your father, but you can't face incest. So you have to fantasize about sex with women. That way it's safe. Why didn't you screw him a long time ago and get over it and get on with your life?”

"Abby!" cried John.

"You're just as bad, John. You and your nutty ass leech. It has to be something weird like that to mask your real desires-to plug your sexy daughter. That keeps other women away and absorbs you so much that the truth never seeps in.”

Father and daughter stared at each other, back to Abby, then back at each other.

"She's mad!" gasped John.

"Insane-or drunk!" Cheryl said. "I've never had the slightest desire… ”

"Nor I," John agreed.

"Prove it," said Abby coolly. "Take off your clothes and embrace each other. If I'm wrong, we'll all know it.”

"That's the craziest-”

"Stupid!" echoed Cheryl.

"Prove it!" cried Abby. She got up and sat on the sofa with a demonic grin.

"I don't have to-" began the old man. But Cheryl had already started to remove her clothes with a savage look in her eye.

"Take it off, Dad. Let's put Miss Smartpants in her place.”

John grunted and began to whip off his clothes. Cheryl quickly undressed to nudity, blushing, but with her head held high. She stood proudly, naked before her father with a look of superiority. John undressed to his shorts. He also blushed as he raised his eyes to his daughter's long-legged, luscious beauty.

Suddenly Cheryl spun and turned her back to him, hiding most of her charms.

"There. You see, Abby? You're wrong.”

"Your father," said' Abby softly, "has a fabulous hard-on.”

"I was only-I merely-" gulped John. There was a thick, odd silence in the room. The air seemed close. Cheryl felt things slide around inside of her and change. She felt a tremendous heat in her belly, a tingling in her nipples, a delicious tightening of her thighs and legs in anticipation, A weird, heavenly pleasure started in her toes and moved slowly up her body, making her feel luxuriously sensual. Still she stood there, back to her father, sensing the death of her old safe world and the heady realization of what she really wanted. A thousand images of their years together floated and flashed in her mind-parts of scenes-and always that delirious possibility of incest. A hand brushing. Bodies accidentally bumping. Her blush deepened. Her breathing went short.

John hooked his thumbs in his shorts, stood there a moment, rocking on his heels, then slowly peeled them down. His big cock, darker than the skin of his belly, thrust upward in the furious lock of a hungry hard-on.

"I don't see anybody embracing," said Abby from the sofa. Her voice was low; she watched the two nude figures with deep fascination.

Cheryl turned and walked towards her father.

"I-I-" he stuttered.

She stopped a pace short. He took a pace forward. Cheryl's eyes stared into his as if seeing him for the first time. His agonized eyes darted, then reluctantly settled on hers. Father and daughter stared deeply into each other's souls. Her hand went down to take his cock and press it against the youthful smoothness and flatness of her belly. His arms went behind her to embrace. She slid, he hugged, and they locked. Abby's breathing was as loud as theirs.

He began to flex his loins and move his cock on Cheryl's belly. Her hips began to undulate.

Heads merged. Lips touched. Cheryl uttered a half-sob of desire and relief at not being rejected as his hard, demanding mouth made her lips weaken, as his hot male tongue performed the first body invasion of incest, digging into her mouth. Cheryl felt so sexed up she wanted to jump out of her skin -and stay in it for the incredible thrills that were promised. She sagged against her father, accepting his French kisses with eager sucking of her own, her smooth belly working against his powerful erection. In this shocking, delirious new world of sex, she was hardly aware of Abby and cared not one iota that Abby had opened the door, to Cheryl's loss of ego.