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If you are a minor, please leave now as it is illegal for you to be here.
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   Author's Note: I like to pay particular attention to both character
development, and to story lines.  For that reason, some readers may be put
off, as you won't find "the good stuff" until I'm well into the story.  If
you prefer to get right down to the hardcore action, then skip at least the
first two or three chapters.  If you have no interest in character
development or story lines, then this material probably isn't the story for
you - nor is pretty much anything that I'll be posting here likely to
interest you.  You've been warned.

   Sweet, Sweet Amy ~ Chapter VI ~ Steve (M/g, Incest, Romantic,
Consensual)

   By

   Daddy's Little Slut-Muffin

   When I woke that morning, following my night of complete indiscretion
with my niece turned daughter, I was alone on the couch.  As consciousness
returned to me, I found my mind slowly being flooded with the memory of
what I had done the night before.  A flood of guilt and shame washed over
me - I had molested my little girl.  Not my biological daughter, but what
difference did that make?  She was my dead sister's daughter.  I had been
entrusted with her care, I loved her deeply, and I had taken advantage of
her while she slept next to me.  I had never felt such guilt before, and I
didn't ever want to feel it again.

   When I realized I was alone, I felt a stab of fear.  What if Amy had
discovered what I'd done?  The previous night was a fog to me, and at the
moment, I had a piss hard on that was sticking out of the fly of my pajama
bottoms.  I couldn't remember - had I straightened up after I'd molested
her?  I became aware of the sound from the television, and it was then, as
I was trying to shove my swollen cock back into my pajamas, that I noticed
Amy, sitting on the floor with her back to me, watching cartoons and eating
a bowl of cereal.

   I told her, "Good morning," and asked her if she'd slept okay as I stood
to head for the bathroom, and she turned and looked at me and said that she
had, and then she looked back to the television and her cartoons.

   She seemed fine.  She was her usual self, except for a slight flush when
she looked up at me, which I guiltily dismissed as being just my
imagination.  When I reminded her about our shopping trip that day, it was
almost like she was ready to go in her pajamas, sort of "as is," but I told
her I needed a shower, and she did too, and we had plenty of time.  While
she finished her breakfast, I showered and dressed.  By the time I came
downstairs again, Amy had finished eating and rinsing her dishes, and while
I started to make something for myself, she headed upstairs to get ready to
go.  She was flushed with excitement, I suppose because she knew she was
going to get to pick out all kinds of clothes that day.

   Our shopping trip was uneventful, if rather hectic and tiring.  The
energy level of a ten-year-old girl on a shopping mission is just mind
boggling.  I don't usually have a lot of patience for spending a whole day
shopping like that, but she was happy, and having such a good time, that I
made myself just enjoy being with her.  I actually managed to capture some
of her enthusiasm, and I had fun picking things out with her.

   The only part of the trip that might have given me pause came when she
wanted to get some things from Victoria's Secret.  We had pretty much
covered everything she needed, except underwear.  I had no idea how to shop
for training bras for her, and frankly, after what I'd done, I was a little
uncomfortable thinking about her panties.  Still, I let myself be dragged
into Victoria's Secret, where I was told by a very attractive sales girl
that the store did indeed have items that would be both appropriate and
would fit Amy.

   I must have looked extremely uncomfortable, because she smiled at me,
and took Amy's hand, telling me, basically, to get lost for a half hour
while she helped her with getting some things together.  I smiled at her
gratefully, and she winked at me over Amy's head as she led her away.  I
glanced at her name tag.  Marissa, I thought, What a lovely name.  I ogled
her nicely formed ass as she and Amy headed into the back of the store.

   When I returned a while later, everything was scanned in and bagged.  I
gave Marissa my credit card, she swiped it, and Amy started out the door.
She was hungry, and ready for our "dinner date." I signed for the purchase,
and as Marissa handed the card back to me, her fingers lingered on mine for
a few seconds longer than necessary.

   "Feel free to come anytime, if you need anything else," she said
quietly.

   "Thanks," I said, as I began to fold the receipt.  Then I noticed a
phone number written on the back, and I looked up at her.  She gave me one
of those smiles that every female on the planet knows how to give.

   "Call me if you'd like," she said, holding my eyes.

   I grinned at her.  "I will," I replied.

   I left the store and followed Amy out to the mall.  We went to the car,
and loaded her final purchases in the trunk with everything else we'd
bought that day.  I'd spent what seemed like a small fortune, but then, I
figured it was worth it.  I hadn't seen Amy this happy and excited about
anything since Heather had died.  Seeing her with that bright smile on her
face all day, watching her just being a female as she shopped for clothes,
was worth all the money I had or ever would have.

   We had dinner at a Japanese steak house because Amy wanted to go to a
"grown up restaurant." She also wanted to see a grown up movie after
dinner, so I took her to see "Cold Mountain." After the movie, though, I
made a mistake as we were talking about it

   "So," I said, "did you like the movie, Princess?"

   Amy thought for a moment, then said, "Yes.  It was really interesting to
see how people survived during the Civil War, and I'll remember that stuff
for school when we talk about it.  But the best part was how they put those
little stories in with the big story of how Inman and Ada stayed so in love
all that time, even though they were apart."

   She fell silent for a moment, then said quietly, "That's the kind of
love I want someday."

   I smiled.  "You already have that kind of love, Princess.  I'll love you
forever and ever, you know that."

   She blushed furiously, and punched my arm.  "You know what I mean,
Daddy!"

   I feigned shock.  "What?  I can't love you that much?  You know I'd
gladly die for you, just like Inman died for Ada."

   As soon as the words were out, I knew that it was completely the wrong
thing to say.  She fell silent, and stayed pensive for a few moments.  I
wasn't sure what to say, so I kept my mouth shut for now.  I'd already said
too much.

   "Daddy," she said softly, "don't you ever say that again, please?  Not
ever.  I don't think I could stand it if someone else I love dies."

   I reached over and ran my hand down the back of her head, stroking her
hair.

   "I'm sorry, Baby.  That was a stupid thing for me to say.  I promise,
I'll never say anything like that again.  I just wanted you to know how
much I really love you."

   "I know," she said.  "But I just don't like to think about you dying."

   We were at a red light, so I reached over and turned her head to face
me.

   "Hey," I said.  "I'm not going to die on you, and I'm not going
anywhere, you understand me?  You, young lady, are stuck with me whether
you like it or not.  Get used to it, and get used to the fact that I love
you with my whole heart and soul."

   I watched her blush deeply again, then smile at me.  She quickly slid
over and hugged my neck.  "I love you, too, Daddy.  Tons and tons, forever
and ever." Then she kissed my cheek, and slid back to her side, buckling
her seat belt again as the light turned green.

   When we got home and unloaded the car, I could tell that Amy was
exhausted, even though she tried to cover it up.  I told her we could put
her new things away tomorrow, and that she should get herself ready for
bed. School didn't start until Thursday, so she still had three days to get
everything ready.  When she didn't protest going to bed, I knew she was
tired because normally she'd pester me to stay up later.

   After I'd tucked her in, I went downstairs for a drink, and to watch a
little bit of the news.  My mind started to drift, and I found myself
reliving moments from earlier in the day.  I suppose that I had made myself
not be consciously aware of what I was looking at while we were in the mall
or at dinner while it was happening, but now my mind wouldn't let me block
the thoughts out.

   The look of her perfectly sculpted little ass when she modeled those
sexy black leather pants for me.  The incongruousness of her overall little
girl appearance, complete with those cute ponytails on each side of her
head, that somehow came across as being amazingly erotic and sexual.  The
way her little nipples revealed themselves beneath her shirt when she moved
a certain way, pressing against the fabric.  The frequent glimpses of her
panty-covered little pussy each time she squatted down to look at
something. The soft skin of her thighs leading up to those panties, a path
that I now found myself wanting to travel with my tongue.  The smiles from
her, mostly just little girl smiles of excitement, but occasionally, smiles
that seemed almost seductive, at least now, looking back at them.

   I shook the thoughts off, wondering just what the hell was wrong with
me. I noticed that I had a raging erection, and tried to will it into
submission.  That proved to be an exercise in futility.  There was no way
that thing was going to go away on its own.

   I drained my drink, and went up to grab a quick shower.  I figured I
could do something about the state of my cock at the same time.  While I
stroked myself, my hands soapy, I focused on the sales girl at Victoria's
Secret, trying to imagine myself fucking her.  Didn't work.  She was hot,
no denying that, but images of her faded quickly, replaced with images of
Amy.  Amy kneeling in front of me, her hands on my shaft and balls, her
lips wrapped around the swollen head of my dick.  Amy lying on her back, my
head buried between her thighs, lapping at her soft, warm pussy.  Amy
sitting astride me, riding my cock slowly, then faster and faster, taking
me into the depths of her hot cunt until I exploded deep inside her,
watching her cum with me.

   When I came, it was with a volume and force that I don't think I've ever
experienced before then.  And as angry as I was with myself for thinking of
my niece - no, my daughter, - that way, I still leaned back against the
shower wall, and whispered to myself, "God, Amy.  I want you so badly."

   I had no idea what I was going to do about this.  I mean, who the hell
was I supposed to talk to about it?  It was 2003, and the hysteria about
child molesters was just reaching the point of being completely rabid.  If
I even breathed one word of what I was going through to a therapist or a
friend, I'd be locked up, and I'd lose Amy.  No way could I allow that.

   So, I resolved that I was never going to touch her again, not the way
that I had the night before.  I was going to force my thoughts of her to
stay within the realm of what's acceptable and decent and moral.  And I'd
find a girlfriend, one my own age, and force myself to stop thinking about
Amy that way.

   Wonderful intentions, but really just another exercise in futility, as I
was going to find out pretty quickly.

   Still feeling guilty about my thoughts and the things I'd been imagining
about Amy, I dried off and went to bed.  It wasn't the best night's sleep
I've ever had, because my dreams, traitorous fuckers, were filled with
images of Amy, naked, and sex with her.  When I got up in the morning, I
vowed again to make this stop.  I did well for a few hours.

   As I was making coffee that morning, I heard the shower start upstairs,
so I started thinking about making breakfast for the two of us.  As much as
they make me shudder, Amy has this passionate love for toaster waffles, so
I decided that's what we'd have for breakfast.  I poured her a glass of
orange juice and set it on the table, then set out two plates and the
necessary silverware, along with maple syrup.  I also poured her a glass of
milk.  By the time she came downstairs, the waffles were in the toaster,
and she grinned at me.

   "Waffles!  I love you, Daddy!"

   "Yeah, yeah," I said, "I knew it.  You just love me because I let you
eat these nasty things, and I even eat them with you."

   "I do not," she said with a mock pout.  "I love you for everything about
you.." A sly grin appeared.  "But the waffles sure do help."

   "Brat," I said.

   She stuck her tongue out at me, then grinned.  By this time, we each had
a waffle in front of us, and we started eating breakfast.

   "So, " I said, "we need to get all of your stuff unpacked and settled.
We have to wash all those new clothes, and let you get your school supplies
organized.  I know school doesn't start till Thursday, but it'll be easier
if we have you all settled before then."

   "Yup." said Amy, "Daddy, you don't have to wash my clothes.  I can do
that at the same time I'm getting my notebooks and stuff ready."

   "Well," I said, "why don't we do it together, okay?  I know you can run
the washer and dryer, but we need to sort your clothes by color and by what
kind of cycle they need to be washed and dried with.  It's probably time
you started to learn about how to do laundry the right way."

   Amy's eyes slid away from me for a second, and she blushed.  What's that
about, I wondered.

   "Daddy, I don't want you to be washing my underwear and stuff," she
said. "It's embarrassing."

   The light came on, and I smiled.  "Sweetie, it's not the first time I've
seen your underwear, or even washed them, and it's not going to be the
last."

   "But..." Her eyes slid away again.

   Ahh, I thought.  "Is this because you got some training bras yesterday,
Princess?  Is that what you're embarrassed about?"

   "Uhm, sorta," said Amy.  Again, the eyes slid off to one side.

   "Sweetie, they're just pieces of cloth.  Just like any of your other
clothes.  There's no need for you to be embarrassed about it.  Actually, it
just means that you're growing up.  That means that it's time for you to be
wearing more grown up clothes.  There's nothing you should be embarrassed
about."

   Amy's eyes snapped back to mine.  "Is that what you really think?  I'm
growing up, and I can wear more grown up stuff now?"

   I knew something was up, but I couldn't put my finger on what it might
be.  But I'd just said it, so I couldn't back out now.

   "Yes, Princess, that's exactly what I think."

   She looked relieved, and gave me that bright smile of hers again.  She
got up, and cleared the table, rinsed dishes, and put them in the
dishwasher.  Household chores had never been an issue with Amy, my sister
had brought her up to always help out around the house, and it was second
nature to her, I guess.  Still, it was nice to be in the company of a kid
who was so conscientious about cleaning up after herself.

   Amy bounced out of the room, and returned with two big bags filled with
school supplies.  I watched her as she sat, tip of her tongue poking out of
the corner of her mouth, and organized everything to her satisfaction. 
Then she ran off and returned in a moment with her new backpack, and put
everything into it.  When she was done, she stood and caressed the suede
backpack for a minute, then looked up at me.

   "This is the most awesome backpack ever, Daddy.  All the other kids are
going to be so jealous that I actually have a leather bag for my school
stuff."

   "Speaking of leather," I said, "I know you probably know this, but just
in case.  Your leather pants and vest and jacket don't ever go in the wash,
okay?  When they need to be cleaned, we'll take them to the dry cleaners."

   "Jeez, Daddy," she said, rolling her eyes at me, "I know that.  Everyone
knows you don't wash leather."

   "Okay, okay.  Just making sure, Sweetie."

   Amy closed all the compartments on her backpack, then slung it over her
shoulder and brought it out to the hallway.  When she returned, she was
struggling with a pile of bags from various clothing stores, finally
managing to sling them on the table.  I opened a drawer and brought out a
pair of scissors to remove the tags from everything before we washed them.

   Amy was most entranced with the leather outfit, which of course did not
need to be washed.  First, she brought out the pants - light, thin leather,
coal black, with flared legs.  We removed the tags, and Amy very carefully
attached them to a hanger with clips on it, hanging them by the waste band
so that they wouldn't crease at the knees.  She hung them from one of the
cupboard door handles, then returned to the bag from the leather shop,
taking out the matching leather vest.  We removed the tags, and she hung
the vest on the same hanger with her pants.

   The next item out of the bag was her new purse - again, lightweight,
black leather, that matched her pants and vest.  It was very small, barely
big enough to hold a large wallet, and I wondered what use it could be. 
Then, I considered the fact that Amy was ten years old, and wouldn't have
the mass of items that an adult woman would be carrying in a purse, couple
with the fact that she had her backpack.  I realized that the purse was
more a fashion statement than anything else.

   Finally, out came her new boots.  Coal black, and much higher than I had
originally realized.  When she had them on, they would most likely reach
almost to her knees, and they weren't typical cowboy boots.  They had a
rounded toe, but the heels were a good four inches high.  Amy held them
almost reverently in her hands, then looked at me and smiled.

   "I love this outfit, Daddy," she said.  "Thank you so much for letting
me have it."

   I melted...

   We continued emptying bags, Amy smiling and giggling at her new clothes
with utter delight, me reading washing instructions and separating them to
be given their first run through the washer and dryer before being put
away. Jeans, khakis, skirts, dresses, all were put into the appropriate
pile for washing.  Eventually, Amy realized that she couldn't avoid it any
longer, and she brought out the two bags from Victoria's Secret, blushing
furiously as she did.

   She began handing me her new underwear, and I removed tags and set them
in the proper piles.  I had decided it would be best to say nothing, and
act as though these were just more clothes, which, in fact, they were.  My
composure almost cracked, though, when she suddenly handed me a wad of
panties.  Well, if you could call them panties.  It would have taken ten
sets of them to make enough material for a "normal" pair of little girls
panties.

   I couldn't believe that someone actually made such skimpy thong panties
for a girl Amy's age.  There was almost nothing to them!  The small
triangle of material that would cover her pussy was so tiny as to be almost
nonexistent.  I froze, the panties in my hand, and felt my cock go rigid in
my pants as I stared at them.  I looked up at Amy for a moment to find her
face a deep scarlet red.  She spoke first.

   "You said I could start wearing grown up clothes now, Daddy."

   I swallowed, hoping that she couldn't hear what to me was an audible
gulp.

   "Yes, I did, Princess.  I guess I just wasn't quite ready to see that
you're really becoming a grown up girl now.  But you are, and you don't
have to be embarrassed.  I think you'll feel very beautiful when you wear
these."

   Amy smiled bashfully, and walked to me.  She wrapped her arms around my
waist and hugged me.

   "I love you, Daddy," she whispered.  "Thank you for understanding."

   I dropped to my knees in front of her.

   "Sweetie, of course I understand.  You're growing up.  You're the most
beautiful girl I've ever known, and you want to feel beautiful.  And one
way that girls feel beautiful is to wear sexy clothes.  Don't ever feel
ashamed of wanting to be sexy, okay?"

   She wrapped her arms around my neck and hugged me tight for long, long
moments.  I felt her lips kiss my cheek then, lightly.

   "I love you so much, Daddy," she whispered again.  Then she went back to
kissing me lightly, all over my cheeks, until, either by accident or
deliberately, I'll probably never know, her lips found mine.  She lingered
in the kiss, her lips closed, just lightly pressing her mouth to mine. 
After a few moments, I felt her sigh.  Her body sagged into mine, and her
lips parted slightly.  I felt her tongue brush my lips, and I opened my
mouth slightly.  Her tongue slid softly into my mouth, lightly caressing
mine, exploring.

   I woke up suddenly.  I broke the kiss, and held her face in my hands
gently.

   "We have to stop this, Princess," I said.

   She looked ready to cry.  "But why, Daddy?"

   "We'll talk in a little while, okay?  But for now, Princess, we have to
stop.  I have to think.  Do you understand?"

   Amy looked crestfallen.  "No," she said.

   "Then I'll explain it to you in a little while, okay?  But for now, just
realize that you haven't done anything wrong, okay?  Daddy just needs to
think about what's happening here.  And I promise, I'll sit down, and I'll
explain to why I have to stop before you go to bed tonight, okay?"

   She nodded.  "Okay, Daddy." She paused.  "Daddy?  Do you still love me?"

   I wrapped her in my arms and pulled her close to me.  "Oh, Baby, there's
nothing in this world that could ever make me stop loving you.  Don't you
ever worry about that, do you hear me?  I'll always love you, always and
always, forever and forever."

   We stayed that way, locked in each others' arms, for what seemed like
hours.  Finally, I broke away, and said, "Now.  Let's get your clothes
washed, okay?  And then later on, maybe you can give me a little fashion
show, and let me see how you look in all these new clothes."

   Amy grinned.  "Really?  You want to see me model my clothes for you?"

   "I would love to see my sexy girl model some clothes for me," I replied.

   She grinned.  "I even have some of Mommy's makeup.  I can be like a real
model for you, Daddy!"

   "Okay, then," I said, "fashion show it is, right after supper.  But for
now, let's get all this stuff washed, okay?"

   "Okay, Daddy!"

   Together, we carried the piles of clothes to the laundry room, and
started the first load washing.
   ~ To Be Continued ~