Pictures at an Exhibition

tagIncest/TabooPictures at an Exhibition

Author note: This story is intentionally unrealistic and is not written to be believable. It's intended as a fun alternate-universe sort of story. Please enjoy, and don't take it too seriously.
"What an incredible day," Bethany Miller said, slipping her hand into her father's as they walked. "It's so gorgeous out."
"It really is," her father Michael answered, giving her hand a reassuring squeeze. Around them, Warner Park was bathed in bright, warm sunshine, turning the grass a vivid shade of green that was almost otherworldly. They walked hand-in-hand along a cobblestone path lined with the occasional tree, the shade cooling them briefly before they emerged into the sunlight again.
The warmth felt incredible on her skin. Bethany wore a floral print sundress that came down to her mid-thigh and was cut low in the front – a bit too low, she'd worried, for an outing with her dad. But she found it impossible now to regret her choices. Her blonde hair was tied back into a messy updo, leaving her neck and shoulders exposed. A few unruly wisps escaped to flutter delicately in the balmy breeze, but she didn't mind.
"It feels like a day where… I don't know," she mused. "Where anything could happen?"
"I suppose anything could," he said, smiling at her gently. "I'm glad we're doing this, Bethany."
"Me too, dad."
It had been two years since they'd last seen each other. Her parents' messy divorce had sent Michael to another state to find a new life elsewhere, and Bethany herself had moved away to enroll in college the previous year.
Her dad had called unexpectedly, only a few days from her nineteenth birthday, to arrange a visit, and she'd enthusiastically agreed. Her birthday had been yesterday, and they were celebrating his penultimate day in town with a leisurely walk in the park.
"I just want you to know," he said as they turned along the winding path toward a coppice of trees, "I'm really proud of you. My little girl all grown up and going off to college."
She giggled and leaned her head against his shoulder for a moment. She found his physical presence reassuring. He was just as she remembered him: tall, broad-shouldered, muscular, with a modest beard and hair worn tidy and short. She could say without qualification that her father was an attractive man. And he smelled good.
"Well, you always taught me to be enterprising," she said. "To take risks, right? Get out of your comfort zone?"
"Did I? I'm glad."
"You don't even remember the important lessons you imparted on your own daughter?" Bethany clucked her tongue. "Shame."
"It's old age. It'll get you too."
"Dad, you're like forty."
"Forty-four. Practically a fossil."
"Well, a handsome fossil," she said, leaning against him again, knowing she was being familiar, but craving closeness, knowing in two days he'd be gone again.
"Flattery will get you everywhere," he said, smirking. "Do you need money or something?"
Bethany laughed. When she didn't answer, he turned to her with a concerned expression. "Bethany? Do you?"
She shrugged. "I'm a college student, dad. We're supposed to be broke and struggling, right?"
"Not necessarily. I could help you out, if you need it. I'm not exactly rolling in it, but…"
"I don't want to mooch off you, dad. Once I find a part-time job, it'll get better. It's just been difficult."
"Sure." He nodded, giving her hand another gentle squeeze. "Well, if things get desperate for you, you know you can come to me, right?"
"Of course." Bethany didn't want to tell him things were already verging on desperate. She'd paid her bills for the month, but wasn't sure where the money for next month's was going to come from – and the side hustles weren't bringing in the cash like they used to. If she couldn't find something more steady, she wasn't sure how she was going to make ends meet – or keep a roof over her head.
"Good," her dad said. "Because I want you to know you can always count… on…"
He trailed off suddenly, his gait slowing. Bethany turned to follow the direction of his gaze – and drew in a sharp breath.
Up until now, she'd been wondering why there hadn't been an abundance of other people in the park on such a gorgeous day. Now she saw why. Ahead, just beyond the coppice of trees, a crowd had gathered around a picnic table. Some were obviously other park-goers, like Bethany and her dad, but there was also a camera rig and what looked like a small film crew. At the center of the semicircle they'd formed, a naked couple was having enthusiastic public sex on the table.
"What th-" Michael blurted.
"Oh," Bethany said, intrigued. "It's Verge."
A year before, the laws on public nudity and sexual activity had changed dramatically. Responding to a push from large and content-hungry entertainment companies, the government had all but eradicated the more benign obscenity laws. Public masturbation, public sex, and equal-opportunity nudity were now the new normal, or at least something becoming commonly accepted.
But the idea of uninhibited public sex just about anywhere was still just novel enough for capitalism to glean a profit from it. A slew of new reality shows had cropped up as a result, centered around public sex and exhibitionism.
One of those companies in particular, Verge, specialized in a sort of game-show format where they bribed people on the street into sexual acts of one sort or another. Tune into one of Verge's programs, and you could see couples copulating in restaurants, on buses, on the street… and in parks, apparently.
Surrounded by the crowd, the girl sat on the edge of the picnic table, leaning back, holding herself upright with one hand. A cloth had been thoughtfully laid down to avoid the possibility of splinters. Her legs were wrapped around the man's waist as he stood, gripping her thighs, thrusting inside her with steady, deep motions. The girl had one hand around the back of his neck, and the two were making intense eye contact as they moved breathlessly against each other. Noises of encouragement and approval undulated through the crowd as they watched.
"Are they seriously-" Michael trailed off, coming to a halt. On a perverse impulse, Bethany continued forward, tugging on his hand.
"They are. Come on, I want a closer look."
"Bethany, I don't-"
She ignored him. She'd had a hunch on her first sighting of the naked pair, and she wanted to confirm it. As they drew closer, she found her suspicions confirmed.
She'd seen right away that the girl was younger and the man older. Now that she could get a good view of them both, she saw they had the same dark hair, the same complexion, the same bone structure in the face. They were related. Closely related – unless appearances utterly deceived her.
A moment later, Bethany's doubt was dispelled when the girl cried out.
"Dad," the girl breathed, her face twisted in pleasure as the older man fucked her. "Oh… god… Dad!"
The way she said it, Bethany knew it was no mere nickname. A father and daughter were having public, exhibitionist sex right before their very eyes. The government had relaxed restrictions on that, as well, as long as both parties were consenting adults.
"Are those two-" her dad spoke again, and once again trailed off in disbelief.
"Yup," she answered, knowing full well what he was asking.
An attractive young woman with long brown hair, dressed in a tank top and very brief shorts, stood at the head of the small film crew, clipboard in hand. As Bethany urged her dad to step closer with her, the woman gave some polite direction to the incestuous couple. The naked girl nodded eagerly, and they separated long enough for her to slip off the edge of the table and turn around. She propped her elbows on the table and bent over, spreading her feet apart to allow her father access.
As the crowd watched, including Bethany and her dad, he slipped into her from behind, slowly and deliberately. The father gave a low groan, caressing her bare back and waist with his hands. The girl gasped loudly and moaned, her slight body almost going limp, fingers clutching without purchase at the cloth-covered table. The crowd murmured astonished approval. A few spectators even applauded softly.
Michael made a low noise under his breath. "Bethany, we should-"
"Just a minute," Bethany said, feeling an acute awkwardness at seeing this spectacle with her dad, but also fascinated by the sight before her. "I want to see this."
She moved closer, only vaguely aware she was still holding her dad's hand, pulling him along with her. She gazed on the father-daughter couple, drinking in every detail: the way the girl's hair dangled, sweat-damp and unruly, into her face. The father's hand on her bare shoulder, gripping her gently but firmly.
Most of all, Bethany relished the expressions on both their faces: him, concentrating intensely, brow furrowed, forehead dappled with sweat. Her, eyes closed, gasping with abandon, every emotion written across her face for fleeting seconds: joy, ecstasy, excitement, disbelief at being so brazen and exposed. Bethany didn't know if it was just what she wanted to see, but the girl looked so fulfilled – like she was experiencing the fruition of a long-cherished dream.
She realized wanted that feeling – more than she would have ever dared admit to herself until this moment.
The girl on the table arched her back and twisted so she and her father could kiss. Her hand came up to caress his cheek, while his came down to close lightly around her throat and hold her in place while he fucked her. The girl cried out loudly in happy surprise, her expression all but rapturous.
Another murmur undulated through the crowd. Bethany let out a low moan, and realized her heart was racing, her breath quick and light in her chest. She shifted slightly and realized she was wet with arousal. She flinched with the embarrassment and awkwardness of feeling this way in front of her own dad – but there was an opposite side to that coin; an intense wish and a burgeoning hope she didn't dare face head-on just yet.
"Cori," the man at the table said between clenched teeth, presumably speaking his daughter's name. "I'm going to-"
"It's okay, dad," the girl gasped. "You can… come…" She struggled to speak the words between gasping breaths as his thrusts picked up speed and intensity.
The pretty woman directing the action made a gesture to her cameraman, who moved in closer to the action. Then she leaned in to speak to the father. Bethany heard the words only indistinctly: "…a bonus if you come on her tits."
The girl Cori, hearing these words, nodded her approval, hair flying. With a groan, her father slipped out of her and flipped his daughter over with a frantic motion, doing his best to be gentle but also moving with the urgency of oncoming orgasm. The girl, now on her back, propped herself on her elbows, thighs still spread, holding eye contact with her father.
As if catapulted into orgasm by the connection itself, the man groaned and shuddered, gripping his own cock in one fist. A moment later, the crowd voiced its approval as he came on her breasts: three sudden gushes, thick and wet and pearly. The third burst took her in the neck and face, and the girl laughed with joy, even as a trickle ran down her chin.
"Bethany," Michael said, and Bethany came back to herself, realizing she'd not only been utterly absorbed in her voyeurism, but also she was squeezing her father's hand, hard enough to hurt.
"Sorry," she said hastily, and let go, eyes still fixed on the public spectacle before her. The father had leaned down to kiss his daughter now, both of them messy and exhausted. The girl gave a joyful giggle as their lips locked, and Bethany let out a low sigh of envy at the sight of it.
"Okay, everybody, that's it," the director said, clapping her hands to lead a round of applause for the happy incestuous couple. "Let's give these two a moment to clean up and get dressed, okay? Thanks for your participation!"
The crowd began to disperse, although Bethany noticed few ventured very far. The father and daughter slipped into a naked, grateful embrace, whispering private words to each other before each being wrapped in a towel by a helpful crew member and being led off, presumably to retrieve their clothes.
"Bethany?"
Her dad's voice punctured the intense reverie occupying Bethany's mind. She looked up at him and blinked. There was some mild concern in his face, but also something she couldn't quite identify.
"You okay? Kinda lost you for a second there."
"Yeah, sorry." She laughed softly, trying to play it off, knowing there probably wasn't any way to. "That was just very intense to watch."
"Yeah," he said. "Kind of hard to believe. Do you want to get going, or…?"
Bethany took a wistful glance back at where the couple had been. They were gone, likely into the small tent not far from the trees.
"Sure," she said, feeling a sting of regret as she let him lead her away. "Sure, dad."
They hadn't made it more than a few steps before she heard a voice calling them.
"Excuse me!"
Michael and Bethany turned simultaneously to find the source of the voice. It was the pretty brown-haired woman who had been directing the action. She approached them with a broad, luminous smile, clipboard tucked into one elbow.
"Hi there," she said in a chipper voice, offering her hand. "I'm Rachel, a director and agent with Verge Entertainment. How are you?"
"Good," Michael said a little hesitantly as he shook her hand. Bethany shook, too, but smiled and said nothing. "What can we do for you, Rachel?"
Rachel's grin broadened, eyes sparkling. "I saw you were observing our little show here, and was wondering if you enjoyed it."
"Yes," Bethany blurted before she could weigh the wisdom of saying anything. Michael gave her a sidelong glance, but smiled.
"It certainly was… different," he said.
Rachel laughed. "That's what we shoot for here. Do you mind if I ask you a couple of questions?"
Michael shrugged. "I suppose not," he said amiably. Something in his tone told Bethany her father was attracted to this woman, and to be honest, she couldn't blame him. She was very pretty and extremely personable.
"Great," Rachel said, taking up her clipboard and pen. "Are you two father and daughter?"
"Yes," Michael answered, perhaps a little dubiously.
"Can I have your names? First names are fine."
"I'm Michael. This is my daughter Bethany."
"Hi," Bethany said, her heart pounding a little. She was fairly certain she knew where this conversation was headed.
"And are you, Bethany, eighteen years of age?"
"Nineteen," Bethany answered. She definitely knew where this conversation was headed now, and found, surprisingly, she was fine with it.
"Great," Rachel said, flashing that bright grin again. "Would either of you be interested in hearing about being a part of Verge Entertainment's adult programming?"
Bethany felt her dad's hand squeeze her own, saw his hesitant grimace. Her heart sank a little as she realized how interested she was, and feared he might not be.
She did the only thing that she felt she could do in that moment.
"Yes, please," she said.
Michael looked at her, mouth drawing into a frown. "Bethany, I don't think-"
"It can't hurt to listen for a minute or two, dad," she said, offering her most winsome smile. It had worked for her frequently when she'd been younger and wanted something from him. She hoped it might pay off now – so she poured it on.
"That's right," Rachel said helpfully. "There's obviously no obligation."
He drew in a deep breath through his nostrils, paused, and nodded. "Sure," he said, nodding.
"Fantastic," Rachel said. "So, what we do for this particular program is we find real, amateur, father-daughter couples who are interested in an unscripted, exhibitionist performance – much like the one you just saw. Those two weren't actors, they were just to people out for a walk, a lot like yourself. We provide a sort of checklist of things you're interested in performing, tailored to your comfort level. You sign a release, we shoot live, one time, and the video goes on our website and social media channels."
"Okay," Michael said, holding up a hand. "But we're not-"
"I understand," Rachel interrupted delicately. "If you're not interested, obviously no hard feelings. But before I let you go today, I'd just like to have you take a look at our list and the accompanying financial compensation."
Bethany perked up. "Compensation?"
"Of course!" Rachel said. "This isn't a volunteer program. You'll be paid for your performance, including residuals from ongoing traffic, depending on how well your video does. There's an option to shoot more, if you find that's your preference, but there's no obligation at all."
She turned the clipboard around and offered it to Bethany. Bethany had to hand it to the woman – she knew how to work the sale.
"I don't think we're going to be interested," Michael said, and Bethany felt that twinge of disappointment again, coupled with minor irritation. She was still throbbing a little from the arousal she'd felt watching that other pair's performance.
She knew what she was thinking about was taboo – after all, that's why such videos made the money they did – but that didn't make her want it any less.
"I understand completely," Rachel said, stepping back. "I'll leave you two with the checklist and you can talk it over if you like. Feel free to take as much, or as little, time as you need."
Bethany looked down at the checklist in fascination. It was more or less a long list of sexual acts, with accompanying dollar values. The lists were nested, with accompanying details and minor acts as "bonuses," each with their own smaller reward.
"Oh my god," she said, giggling helplessly. She wasn't sure what she'd been expecting, but it wasn't quite this. The thing was like an a la carte restaurant menu.
"Bethany." her dad's voice cut through her concentration. "You're not seriously considering this, are you?"
She hugged the clipboard to her chest and looked up at him. She became aware of the faint scent of his sweat, either from the warmth of the day, the situation, or both.
"Dad. You know I love you."
"Of course," he said, a little dubious.
"I would never want to ruin what you and I have. But maybe this wouldn't be such a bad idea. It could, I don't know, be fun?"
"Bethany, you're my daughter."
His words had far from the effect she suspected he'd intended. Instead of cooling her desire, they only inflamed it further.
"And you're my dad. But isn't that what makes it kind of hot? The fact that it's still kind of taboo?"
"I-" he began, then trailed off. Bethany could see the impending "no" in his eyes, but then his demeanor shifted. He looked at her in a way he never had before: a warm, appraising glance, filled with affection but also a slow spark of desire.
"Maybe," he finished.
Bethany stepped closer to him, looking up into his eyes.
"This could be something we could do together," she said hopefully. "Something special to remember this trip by."
This was a risky angle to take, she realized, and she knew she was, on some level, wheedling to get what she wanted. But she couldn't help it. For one, she did want it – badly – and there was no particularly elegant way to try to talk your father into fucking you. Not that she knew of, anyway.
There was also the matter of money. She'd seen how many zeroes there were attached to some of those "reward levels." Even the lowest tier could make a big difference in her life. She couldn't ignore that.
But mostly, Bethany admitted to herself, she wanted to do this out of sheer, lascivious desire for her father. The sight of that other father-daughter couple enjoying each other sexually had aroused something in her she hadn't expected, but which now worked at her mind and soul with frantic intensity.

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