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It was almost noon by the time Jason got up.

He pulled open the curtains and was almost blinded by the sun. His head throbbed as though he had been drinking the night before. He wished he had been. He found Stella's note on the bathroom mirror, read it and decided he'd take her flowers when he met her later on. Then he brushed his teeth, showered and shaved and went into the living room. Might as well start the day right, he thought, trying to take an optimistic view. The house was apparently empty . . . no sign of the twins, and he was glad he had the time to get himself together . . . He'd really gone off the deep end with his thinking the night before, he realized as he made himself a cup of coffee. Today in the bright sunshine, all that seemed far away. He was probably exaggerating everything, including his own reactions! He read the morning paper happily with this new trend of thought, and everything was going well until he looked up and saw Anne standing at the deck door. She slid the door back and entered the living room.

"Why don't you make some noise sometimes!" he yelled at her, startled by her almost unearthly appearance.

Anne smiled at him angelically. "I'm sorry, Daddy," she said . . . "I always walk lightly on the steps because I don't want to get splinters!"

She seemed pleased to have scared him, he thought, too pleased. He watched with annoyance as Anne meandered into the kitchen, tracking sand as she went.

His frustration grew as he heard her humming to herself.

"Anne," he called, "Come out here!"

"You called?" she said, mimicking something she had seen once in a movie.

"Yes! . . . I don't want you and Paul hanging around on that deck at night anymore. Do you hear me?"

"What?" Anne asked, surprised and frightened at the same time. Had he seen anything? She decided to brazen it out . . . that was usually the best way.

"What do you mean?" she cried. "What is this . . . Russia or something? What's that supposed to mean? Why can't we be on our own porch if we want to? Mother never told us not to . . . It was fine with her all the time you were gone!"

"Don't you talk to me like that, young lady!"

Jason yelled, standing up. He was infuriated that she dared speak to him in that tone of voice. "Hasn't your mother taught you any manners at all? What are you two, a couple of little heathens?"

"What do you care?" Anne screamed, angry in her turn. "You've hardly ever been here . . . What is it to you?"

Jason took two giant steps over to the kitchen and grabbed his daughter by the arm. Yelling, he dragged her into the living room. "You're damned right!" he said . . . "I should have been here to tan your hide good!" Ignoring Anne's screams he turned her over his knee. Although she struggled fiercely, his strength was too much for her, and she was soon in the proper position, her buttocks clad only in a vibrant yellow bikini. She was offered up to his eyes like a human sacrifice.

"You think you're too old for this!" he blustered. "Well, as long as I'm in this house, you'll never be too old!" His hand came down hard on Anne's resilient bottom, making a loud smack that resounded throughout the room. He could feel the sting of the impact of his palm on her quivering young buttocks as he lifted his hand once more into the air. But no sooner had he hit her than the enormity of what he was doing struck him. Looking down at Anne's wriggling bottom, he could clearly see the outline of the crevice of her ass, and beneath the scant material, her burgeoning buttocks bloomed, dancing before his crazed eyes like two small beach balls bobbing in the sea. She lay across his legs, one hand holding her firm so that the other would be free to move. Her cries of protest resounded in his ears, and it seemed that time had stopped right then and there . . . that his hand was suspended in a stop action pose, his eyes boring deep circles of heat into the tantalizing orbs of his daughter's round behind.

Jason's large cock sprang up between his legs, jabbing into Anne's belly as she lay stretched out across her father's knees. When she felt it, she stopped her childlike cries of protest, and the sounds coming from her lips more closely resembled uncertain mews of perversity. The pain spreading throughout her cheeks tingled deep into her loins, changing there to another sort of torture. She couldn't help herself. That cock stabbing up into her stomach through her father's bathrobe felt so huge, that she could easily imagine the delights it would give her demanding pussy. Seeing it was one thing, she realized, feeling it, quite another. The sure knowledge that her father was excited by her proximity gave her the courage she needed. By moving her hips in a certain way, it was easy to rub her protruding pubic mound against his thigh. The material of her bathing suit had ridden up into her crack creating an added friction there so that every time she moved now the pleasure was acute.

Jason could see what was happening. He could see it, but he could do nothing about it. He was powerless to stop himself, powerless to change what was coming. His hand came down again, not so hard as before, and this time it rested a long moment on the soft bouncy bottom of the young girl who called him Daddy.

"Daddy!" she cried out. "What are you doing?"

Anne wriggled more, moaning softly as her pussy rubbed against her father's leg. She humped her ass up so that Jason's hand moved into the crack between the two swells of firm well-tanned flesh. The hand touched bare skin, and the fingers curled about the silk-like area. She bucked up again, and the hand slipped between the furrows of her upper thighs, there where her little cunt nestled moistly.

"Aaaaah!" she sighed, at the obscene feel of his hand there. The giant prick was jumping against her belly now, and every time she rolled a bit, it seemed to swell even more!

"Oh, God!" she said, "Daddy.... Daddy!"

"Anne!" Jason cried out, beyond control now, his hand searching up, up, under the tight fabric of the swimsuit, into the dark hot pit where tendrils of soft young pubic hair brushed his probing, nervous fingers. His fingers slipped in, sinking farther than he thought they would. The tips were on fire, going where all moral laws forbade him to go. This was wrong! This was Evil . . . and yet, she was egging him on . . . she seemed to want it so . . . and he wanted it even more . . . wanted it with all his being! He panted his lust, his breath coming in great sobs as his fingers knew the churning depths of his daughter's tight pink hole.

It didn't last long. It didn't have to. Anne could stand it no more. Her clit was bumping wildly against her father's knee now and his fingers were driving her mad! The feel of his huge cock against her flat belly was too much to take. Her father was the most exciting man she had ever known. Paul was like an extension of herself . . . but her father . . . was almost like a stranger. Yet it was better than that . . . he had all the benefits of being a stranger, while still being someone close to her . . . the man who had created her, for heaven's sake. And he loved her . . . he wanted her. . . .

"Ooooooh Daddy! Daddddddy!" She wailed. "Daddy!"

Her orgasm struck her like her father's hand, suddenly and accurately, taking hold of her and bending her to its will. As she churned on his lap, his hand stuck deep up into her streaming vagina, between the trembling pillows of her buttocks, she felt his white hot jism splash against her stomach and then splash again, wetting her entire middle section.

"Anne . . .!" Jason cried out as he came, "I, I can't . . . . Oh no . . . Nooooo!" But it was too late. The deed had been done.

A few minutes later, Jason helped Anne slide down onto the floor. He stood up, looking at her, as she scrambled to her feet. He was shaking all over, white as a sheet. Anne looked up at him, a little shaky too. She was about to throw her arms about his neck, when he turned and stumbled from the room.