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The first time he does this, they're in the garage. The garage can be converted to a sparring room fairly easily—park the car outside, put down some yoga mats; the punching bag already lived there. The first time he touches her, after he knocks her on her back during a routine sparring session, he tells her many things:
This is part of training.
Don’t worry; you’ll get stronger.
One day, you’ll be strong enough for me.
He doesn’t slip his fingers inside her; she’s not ready for that, barely fourteen, and still small and rounded around the edges. He simply slips his hand in her sweatpants, over her underwear, and presses it against her heated cunt. The gasp she makes is one of surprise, but she shouldn’t be—he told her he’d be doing this.
I’m just checking, he said, for your health.
Allison’s sweet little brow crinkles. Her body goes tense. But she nods. She’s always wanted to be a big girl, and that means hitting the ground running, whether it’s with a bow and arrow, or her father’s hands. She lifts herself up on her elbows, spreads her legs for him. He doesn’t push himself inside her, but he can feel the bit of hair growing, feel the heat of her insides, just through her underwear. It’s tantalizing. A weaker man would break.
Chris lets out a soft sigh.
“Thank you,” he tells her, “you did good. Healthy as a horse.” He pulls away. She smiles at him, like the sun.
It’s sweet, how much she trusts him. Chris thinks he could get addicted to this. No one looks at him like that—that much trust, that much love.
There’s really nothing like the love from your child.
“Show me,” he tells her.
Today, they’re outside, in a little spot of woods near an abandoned cabin. Running takes a lot out of them and they’re taking a rest, Chris finishing off his water and Allison leaning against a tree, one palm planted against the bark, catching her breath.
Allison squirms. She knows what she wants. “I’m gross,” she complains.
Chris resists rolling his eyes. His daughter is only more beautiful like this, covered in natural sweat, natural fluids, the smell of her sweet and briny. She’s too young to understand that teenage boys may want her all dolled up and pretty, but he wants it all—the fierce huntress she’ll grow into, the powerful young woman, all the sweat and blood and tears.
“You know this isn’t about that,” he tells her. His voice is soft but firm, leaving no room for argument. His training voice.
Allison sucks in a breath. Her cheeks are red from the run, so he can’t tell if she’s blushing (he hopes she is) as she nods and turns around. Allison faces the tree completely. She removes her running shorts, then her underwear. Chris wonders if the breezes tickles her exposed cunt, if she likes how it feels.
She gingerly spreads her legs, planting them about five feet apart. Then she presses both palms against the tree, leaning forward, which makes her pert ass stick out. Chris is proud of her; how well she does this. Minimal complaints. Unbidden, Chris thinks about what it’d be like to push his cock in there, no warning; if her surprise will be worth it. If she’ll trust him after that. If he can tell her it’s part of training.
He won’t. He’s not that kind of man. But he imagines maybe some day, he’ll stretch her out there too.
He walks over closer until he’s pressed behind her, looming over her, close enough to feel her gasp rather than merely hear it. She’s a full head shorter than he is and he doesn’t imagine she’s going to get any taller. She’s always going to be like this, his little girl.
He reaches down between her legs. Her cunt lips are already parted, from the way she positioned herself, waiting for him. She’s slick, not just inside, can feel her fluids dripping down her thighs, her pubic hair damp. He pets the outer walls of her cunt, the softest of skin, the most fragile places, listening to the soft breathing Allison makes—not sharp, or rapid, steady and controlled, just like he taught her—but he likes knowing she’s forcing herself to be in control.
He slips two fingers inside her, doesn’t bother starting with one. He’s already done that so many times, he knows her body is used to it. It’s the right choice—he goes in so easy. He has large, workman fingers, calloused and weathered. Two fingers go in with no resistance, and he savors his daughter’s sharp little whine as he breeches her. His daughter’s pussy is a marvel, clenching tightly around his fingers, but letting him push in and then back out, then in again.
Out here, anyone could find them but he doesn’t particularly care right now. The woods was their place, one of their secret spots. They were hunters and it made sense to do this in the woods.
“You’re so wet for me,” he croons. His voice has dropped to a low growl, but he’s pleased. "That's good," he tells her. Then he clears his throat, clarifying. "Healthy. I’m proud of you."
He knows that's what she wants to hear. He knows because her cunt flutters around him. Her cunt clenches down hard on him then releases, like she couldn’t help it, a spasm rolling through her.
Without thinking, he kisses the back of her neck. It’s covered in sweat. She tastes salty. He likes that.
“One day,” he says, crooking his fingers until she gasps. He’s found an extra sensitive spot of flesh, extra soft on the inside. He grabs her tit with his other hand, over the clothes, but it’s enough to make her gasp suddenly, surprised. “One day, you’ll be able to take my cock. Do you want that?”
Allison whimpers, a soft little sound, like a bunny rabbit. She doesn’t speak, just nods, almost fast enough to give her whiplash. She’s squirming and aching beneath him, wriggling her little ass, like she wants more.
“Don’t worry, little girl,” he says, like he used to talk to her, when she was smaller. He drags the hand on her tit down her body, and gently rubs her clit, as he scissors his fingers inside her. Allison moans, full throated, like a woman. “Daddy’s gonna make you feel good.”
Her mother doesn’t know. He and Allison take their stolen moments, their training days together, alone, away from Victoria. He fills the gaps in his wife’s schedule, he makes sure she’s out busy, he takes Allison with him when he runs errands, he schedules their father-daughter runs. He tends to check up on Allison. Like a random drill, he will burst in her room and say it’s time for inspection. Watch as she spreads her pussy for him and lets him look, lets him push his fingers in, lets him touch her and spread her open.
You’re doing so well, he tells her, you’ll be ready soon.
He told Victoria about their family rituals before they married, and she agreed to all of them except this one.
You will not do that to our daughter, she said, promise me. Not to any child we have. I don’t care if it’s tradition.
He promised he wouldn’t do it, he swore on his mother’s grave, but he lied.
Of course he lied. He wasn’t going to leave Allison out of the family legacy. That would be unfair to her.
Victoria doesn’t have to know. She takes well to the Argent lifestyle but it’s fine if she’s not included in everything. Allison is fully an Argent, and Victoria is just one by marriage.
Allison is going to grow up, which means she’ll find someone else to be with eventually, someone else to marry, like he found. This time together is precious.
Sometimes he fantasizes about her belly swollen, pregnant with his child. That’s truly sick, that’s crossing a line, more than anything else he’s done, but he jerks off in the shower thinking about it, how much he’d rather see her pregnant, a tie between them that cannot be served.
“Show me,” he demands.
Her mother is at work. It’s just her and him today. The way he likes it.
Allison sighs, like a girl being ordered to do her chores or her homework, but she does as she’s told.
She goes into her room for a moment, and returns with a small dildo—a slim slender silicon one, pink in color. It didn’t resemble anything like a real cock, just a phallic shaped thing to slip inside herself. A starter dildo. She’ll work her way up.
He got it for her, of course. Picked it out. He didn’t want anything like a man’s cock inside her. Not before him.
This is part of training.
Allison sits on the couch. Removes her leggings. Chris gets an eyeful of her pretty cunt as she spreads her legs—darker, thicker hair on it now, shining glistening folds. The smell hits him like a freight train, thick and pungent, and he has to hold back from burying his mouth and nose in it, craving the taste of his daughter’s cunt.
He gets hard watching her expose herself, blood rushing down to his groin. He can see her nipples hardening under her shirt. She’s not wearing a bra. Chris wants to feel her up, squeeze her tits in his hands, bite down on her nipple. He wants to skip this whole part and go straight to the main event.
But being an Argent is about discipline. He learned that from his father too.
“Show me,” he says and she shivers, her eyes darkening. Legs out, she slips the dildo inside her, the thing going in smooth and easy, her cunt sucking it inside, eager for it. There’s a slow kind of finesse to how she fucks herself, the silicon cock going in and out, changing the angle, arching herself into it.
She’s been practicing for him.
She glances up at him, catches his eye. Holds his gaze steadily as she shows him what she’s learned.
Chris gets tired of watching right then, can’t resist going over to touch her. With his cock tenting his jeans, he walks over to her and grabs the dildo. He doesn’t pull it out of her but he bats her hand away, taking control of it, controlling the depth and speed. He goes a little harder than she’s used to, a little faster, deeper, maybe, but she has to learn.
He wants to do this. He wants to be the one. She doesn’t need to show him what she can do to herself.
Allison gasps, her mouth parted perfectly wide. “Dad,” she moans, eyes fluttering shut. “Daddy
Chris thinks he deserves some kind of reward for not grabbing his cock right then and there. For not stripping down. When she calls him that, it’s like a sweet little treat. Her body is all grown up, but she still feels like his little girl, that pure untainted love, when she calls him daddy.
“Yeah,” he says. “Are you going to come for daddy?” He asks and it’s cheating, he knows, to place a thumb on her throbbing little clit, push down as he pushes the dildo in. She whines low in her throat, nodding, her body spasming beneath him. When she comes, it’s beautiful—her body twitching, out of control, her face hot and red, that sheen of sweat around her forehead, like a halo.
“Do you think you’re ready?” He asks her after. He tilts the toy inside her, watching her body arch and twitch for him with the aftershocks.
Allison bites her lower lip.
She nods. “Yes, daddy.”
The day he fucks her, he can barely contain himself. He wakes up that morning, takes a shower, shaves. He wants to look good for her. Allison deserves the best. He stares himself in the mirror, at his aging body, and tells himself, today is the day.
He feels a bit like a pervert, being so excited. Can already feel half-a-chub starting in his loins, waiting for release, eager as a teenager.
Allison makes him young again.
The first time is in his bed. He makes sure Victoria is out of town. Enough time to clean the sheets and do a load of laundry. He doesn’t want to be interrupted. A girl’s first time is very special.
“Take your clothes off,” he says to her.
Allison strips away eagerly, tossing the shirt on the ground, shoving her jeans down. He almost wants to keep her in her underwear—something about the black sports bra on her body is enticing, looks similar to her tank for running. As if he could watch her work out every day and get a hard on for her, remembering it now.
But no. They should both be naked.
“Is this part of training?” She asks, laughing. “How fast I can remove my clothes?”
He chuckles. “What do you think?”
On the bed, Allison gets a little shy. She lies still, legs open for him, but not moving as he kisses her way down her body. He wraps his mouth around her nipple, like he’s always wanted to, sucking on the little thing as she gasps. He bites down, perhaps a little too hard, but she doesn’t complain. He savors all the little noises she makes. He wants to remember everything about this, seared into his skull. The veins in her pale skin, the flush on her chest, the look of the hard little nub, darker than her areola.
“You can touch me,” he tells her. Allison slides her hands in his hair, carding her fingers through it. He thinks that’s the first time she’s touched him back. It makes Chris shiver. He wants her hands on his cock, wants to see her mouth wrapped around it, wants to show her how she can be a champ at that too, but they can save that for later.
When he first enters her, she gasps. Her mouth is open wide, panting heavily. Her fingers curl in tight in his hair, nails digging into her scalp. Her eyes are wide open, glistening with moisture, and he wonders if he’s hurting her, but he loves the look on her face — the shock, the surprise, as he cracks her open for the first time. She’s more than simply tight and hot around him; she’s raw, honest, unable to hide anything from him. He’s never seen her like this, she’s perfect, and he never wants to leave her.
Is it too much? He wants to ask but he stops himself. He can’t spoil her. “Remember your training,” he tells her instead.
She nods, mouth parted open in a silent moan. He gives a moment to adjust, to get used to the feel of him. She spreads her legs wider, as wide as she can and nods.
He fucks her like he always wanted to, with long deep strokes that don't relent, relishing her sharp gasps of breath and low moans. She grabs on to his back, nails digging into his skin, clawing him up with every thrust. She cries out for him, with a desperate, needy voice he's never heard from her before.
You're doing so well, he tells her. You're taking your daddy's cock so good.
The cry she makes when he tells her that is loud and sharp, almost a sob. He'll never forget it.
Neither of them last very long, coming one after another. When Chris pulls out, he refuses to let her close her legs, staring at the milky white fluid on her pink cunt.
"Beautiful," he tells her.
“Hey,” he says to her, raising his head up. His mouth is smeared with her slick. He’s entranced with her cunt, the way it tastes, how responsive she is to his tongue and fingers and cock.
He thinks he loves her. Really loves her. Loves her more than his father, than his sister, than his wife. Allison is all the best parts of them, in one beautiful, tight little package.
“Yeah, dad?” She asks. She’s breathless and gorgeous like this, her pale skin flushed red in her cheeks, in her chest, in her tits.
“How would you like your aunt to come hunting with us next time?”