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The confusion of whether it was night or dawn hung over the airport and for travellers the smell of coffee was the only anchor in a sleepless domain. It was his walk that she noticed from a distance, a slow press into the marble above which strange shoulders carried him forwards amidst the more insistent march of seasoned Europeans. Over fifty of them stood in the queue, snaked around temporary barriers and draped within the undulations of pillars and corners. Whether lemmings, penguins or cattle she couldn’t quite place, but none of them were fully awake. Her poncho draped comfortably around her with the soft cashmere casting wings between elbows and knees. It was between the envelope of fabric at her side that he was now standing, hip pressed against her, arm extended across her back beneath the cashmere, his palm resting on her hip. The queue moved forwards. Two exhausted Parisian belles leaned against each other in front of them, ruffled remnants of barely left partying. A. Uh!... Uhh... UHHHHHHH!!!” he groaned at the first jet of cum shot from his prick hole, splashing all over Cindy's hand and the quilt she'd bunched to keep it off them. “One. Two. Three. Four. Five. Six! Dribble... Gee, Dad, you really, really cum hard, don'tcha?” “You gotta be kiddin, dear. I wanted this night since you were ten, and whacked-off to the fantasy more times than you'll ever know..,” “Really, Daddy? You really jacked-off thinkin' 'bout fuckin me? When did you start to want me that way?” As she continued fondling his now flaccid cock and lightly cupping his balls, Howard took a deep breath; discomfort, arousal and his last shred of modesty vying for position on his face, he broke down and admitted to his daughter: “Cindy, this gonna be really weird, but I've wanted this night since you were eight, and your hips started flaring.” “Huh?!” “Yup. Never, ever looked at another little girl, any other little girl, that way, even when they were over here playing.
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