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Wet Stories
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Straight Female / 19
I was an adopted child but when I found my real father he lost control.
The first time I fucked my own father, it changed my whole life. I'd never had a cock in me before and then, when I finally learned all the wild, animal joys of completely abandoned sex, all the wonderful ways a male and a female can join their bodies to bring impossible thrills I'd never thought existed, I got so sex hungry I couldn't quit. I did it with my own father, and became a sex pervert; but I was hooked – I liked it and I couldn't stop. I had to have more and more of Daddy's cock in me all the time.
But it began long before that first fuck; it began right after my mother's death. I found my real father. Daddy had to sell the house because of medical bills, and we were forced to move to an inner city old established gothic apartment. Before that, I had been just another little girl – innocent and pure – but for being touched up as a child by a man I was forced to reveal all to daddy by accident. he got the news from police friends within weeks of getting to know me.
living in the apartment with him and having to getting to know my real father changed everything after being assaulted by a man who wanted me to be his prostitute fantasy. when daddy found out it really must have shocked him. I knew almost the moment we both walked in that there was a feeling of lust in the very air of the place. I knew I had to have sex – pure, raw animal sex – and I wanted it with my own daddy.
That move to the apartment was the beginning of our strange life together. We began a subtly different relationship right from the first day there.
There we were, a 19-year-old girl and her father, surrounded by all the impossible junk of twelve years' collection. Because we couldn't do anything else, we both sat on the floor and laughed out loud. We both seemed to feel the urge to laugh at exactly the same instant and, we kept it up for the longest time. The whole situation was absolutely hilarious and we couldn't help ourselves.
Finally, Daddy took a great big breath and still smiling, said, "Well, sweetheart, which would you rather do, sit here and stare at this mess, or go out on our first date?? How's dinner and a visiting some friends sound??"
Of course, there was no choice. The dinner and café evening with his work and close friends were much more exciting than any sort of hard work. Although I was anxious to find my room and to put my things away, I knew that all that could wait until the next day. We had moved in on a Friday purposely, so that we could have two full days to put everything in place, and I
certainly didn't want to exhaust myself doing it the first night.
Right from the moment I accepted my first "date," Daddy seemed to change from a tired man into a really romantic figure. He started to plan the evening, asking me what I would like, and as I placed a few things around the apartment, he went out to get a newspaper to find out what movies were playing and what restaurants were serving what.
We planned the whole thing together and he even helped me select a dress to wear. Then he told me that the following day he would let me try my hand at decorating the whole apartment.
There had been any stigma to nudity in our family. We weren't nudists and we hadn't made a point of parading around the house without clothing on, but either had we run around like prigs and prudes locking doors while we were dressing or doing other such Victorian things to call attention to nudity. I had often seen my mother dressing and Daddy changing clothes in a hurry. I, however in turn, had no idea of false or ridiculous modesty. I was taught to be decently dressed in the living room and at meals, regardless of the time of day. But I also knew that there was no shame in nakedness.
Maybe that's why, when we decided on the movie and found out the time, I asked if I could take a shower at the same time he did, so we would be able to eat our dinner without rushing.
By the time of our move, I still was not completely aware of the changes that must have been starting within my mind and body. A 17, I was just experiencing the first rolling surges of sexual awareness and budding maturity and that evening in that old gothic bath tub, I shocked myself – these things all came to the fore in a way I had hardly expected and hardly knew hoe to explain.
While Daddy adjusted the flow and temperature of the water, I quickly slipped out of my dress and peeled off my panties, socks and shoes. He let me get into the tub and start the water running swishing some petals and salts in, while he had a towel around his waist putting on his white t-shirt and designer jeans, and completing his grooming.
Up until that precise moment, I had never really noticed Daddy's body before. As I looked at him through new eyes, I saw that he was tall and thin, but thin in a way that most people would call wiry I hid my curiosity with coy shyness and blushed. Actually, he was magnificently built compared to most men his age – and for many a lot younger!
He had a little. hair on his chest, but wasn't really a hairy man. His forearms and face were sunburned, making him look as though those extremities had been painted. If I had had to describe his face, I doubt that I would have been able to. Before now, Daddy was just a tall man who sometimes looked older than his thirty years because of worry, and other times seemed almost like a teen-ager. His hair was a brown red and I suppose there could have been a little grey in it, but it was hard to spot because his hair was so light to begin with.
Until that moment when we were about to share our first semi nakedness, – I knew I needed to learn familiarity with him, his face and body that were his alone but that would have to see him as just Daddy. Could I ever give either his face or his body a second thought?? They were merely part of that his texture and it would take time to see a familiar fixture of a parent I had to get to know and never really seen. this new Daddy was someone I could never take for granted, but had never really noticed before how timid and dumb I was with bodies and men and sex in general.
But that evening, as I took the soap and started to rub myself with it, I was fascinated by his sexual parts. Even though I had seen them before it was as if I had never really seen them! I couldn't take my eyes off that soft torso and wicked soft skin, and wondering about what was under that towel, a wet cushion of hair and the beautifully rounded tube that seemed to beckon my attention even though it was obviously completely relaxed. Just looking at his soft skin and almost cry baby pink face I swear I could see the reflections of how beautiful his dick was just in his embarrassed blushing face. I had to get to know this man, and be more then strangers with him.
And something about it excited me so much that I literally had to reach out and touch it – as if some force other than my own was compelling my hand toward my father's prick. Try as I would, I could not stop it from reaching out…
I think my father must have known what was in my mind. At least, I'm sure he saw my hand moving towards his private parts. Without sudden movement, or anger, or any sign of embarrassment, he simply turned around and as I delicately undressed my silk robe. That simple act brought me back to total consciousness, although I could never forget my recent and totally new vision of his rod just looking into his face. I seen it as pink, delicious and interestingly something I would cry over like a spoilt child in a lolly shop.
while I visually ate into his firm body flesh, I also rubbed soap on my own private parts let the flower salts and oil essences fill the air and invite him in as I tied my hair up in a softly half Gibson bun. I noticed him glance at me as if he was thinking and looking twice at me in a different way. like he was looking at a woman in a movie or magazine.
That was all that happened in the restroom. Yet, from that time on, I experienced terrible excitement and recurring thoughts of my father's prick. And that night, I couldn't get them out of my mind.
Without further incident of any kind, we both dressed and drove to the restaurant where Daddy was a perfect doll of a date. He ordered everything for me and treated me just like a perfect little lady – as if I really was his date and he were thinking of me as a romantic and mysterious woman of the world, instead of his own daughter, sometimes I felt him looking at me as if I was his little girl of ten or eleven he needed and wanted to get to know, the daughter he missed out on knowing then.
I felt as if I were in a dream world during the entire meal. Before dinner he ordered me a Shirley Temple and himself a Martini and clinked glasses with me, giving me a knowing wink as if we were sharing some great romantic secret. During the meal, he told me of the things he was studying in school.
He was studying legal architecture and told me about fantastic buildings in Rome and Milan; all about the tilting tower of Pisa. I allowed my mind to wander with these wonderful romantic thoughts, feeling giddy, half-believing that he was a handsome prince and we were dining at some gloriously old restaurant in Rome or Genoa.
Then, the romance was shattered by the memory of my vision of his penis under that towel in the tubs. A different feeling soared through me as truly agonizing on one level as it was rapturously exciting on another.
The dinner was delicious, probably more due to my dreams and fancies and the candlelight than to the food itself.
I don't even remember what the movie was, but I do remember that I held Daddy's hand as we walked to the car and he drove home like I was some hot date he wanted to impress, feeling his strong, cool presence driving and when he had held my hands in with such protective fingers on mine as we walked across the road I felt like his ultimate date and dream girl, and I was slipping into a glossy sexy wet love for this evening and him and an excitement in the air was seducing me into passions. I was as much in love with sudden lusty excitement as any young girl of my age.
But I was shy about my body, too. I did enjoy the ecstasy of watching him looking at me and the way my soft silky dress clinged to my hosiery and how someone noticed it and he looked at my legs several times admiring his bodies art what had made me. Even though I had been thinking of the memory of his penis, I was both ignorant and coy at the same time. Besides, I knew absolutely nothing about.sex except what it was like to pushed down and raped by a man one night in a sleazy party. Maybe he had told daddy the whole story; but I don't think so. All I knew was that I was experiencing a feeling that was part loneliness and part childish desire, fear of being seen as a dirty slut no man would want to possess and terror that I was soiled for life. I had longed for love and sexual desires and for what was beyond my grasp, that made me cry too often.
I was half intoxicatedly asleep it was a dream state of desire I could not believe is happening to me at last. when we came in the car– I felt gooey and watched his body like a hawke like jealous anticipating and rival ready lover, the bitch in me came out a few times as he got glances from others in the car.
That night I found that I was in his study almost without my clothing on and that Daddy had slept cm a couch in the main room. He admitted he loved the silky dress on me and how it clinged to my legs and he smoothed it down in a subtle way that made my vagina walls quiver.
I knew something else when I woke up, too. I knew that I must have dreamed strange and supposedly forbidden thoughts – my pillow was pressed tightly between my legs, against my vagina, and I had succumbed to my first strange and compelling urge that morning! As I was waking from a half-sleep, I felt my own hand moving tenderly down my bare stomach and under the elastic band of my panties. I reached lower, unable to stop my movement and slipped one finger into my sexual parts, only to find that they were pleasantly hot and very, very wet.
I became a little frightened by my feeling of hot wetness and lifted the covers up so that I could inspect myself. All was in order and nothing seemed to look strange, so I lay on top of the pillow and kept my finger slowly moving against myself. Then, again, I saw the vision of Daddy's penis every time I looked at him and wanted to see it for real just as I had seen imagined and blushed at the night before while he was in his towel. Did he know he made me cry every time he would gently rebuff my hands of desire. my needy eyes and heart were tearful over him most nights in bed.
I had another uncontrollable urge to reach out and touch it.
The thought frightened me but I couldn't stop the movement of my finger – it felt too divinely good and I wanted to keep it up. I don't know how long I would have lain there that way, or even if I might have had my first orgasm masturbating thinking of him, but when I heard Daddy call me, I stopped. I cried as I went back to it dipping my head into the sheets for secretive cover. Feigning being awakened from a deep sleep, I called back, asking what he wanted.
Never shall I ever forget how handsome and graceful Daddy looked as he walked into the room bearing a glass of hot tea for me.
"Came on, baby," he said. "We've got a big day ahead of us. I'm going to let you decorate the apartment." after he left and I was over blushed I just had to orgasm. the more his eyes showed embarrassment and confusion and if we could get away with this. I thought "please daddy fuck me, love me" because I want to get to know you like this, like anything at all. he was making me cry and feel unwanted but if we shared this real sexual connection in body and soul for real and let it happen everything would be alright.
The prospect of re-decorating the apartment to accommodate me and him newly all by myself was so exciting that I fairly sipped the tea down in order to get started on him looking at my body and thinking of me in that light as soon as possible. But had I any idea just how big that "big day ahead of us" was to be, I think my reaction might have been entirely different.
I knew I had to make me his primary priority and remove all other competitors. He was going to be mine and I would seduce every pore of his skin, every glance and ever sexual thought he had til I broke him down. It was not like we had known each other as daddy and daughter all our lives. we had guessed of each others existence subconsciously no doubt because the power when we met was electric. our lives may have even over lapped many times unaware?? I knew I had to fight for him. to be part of him not just as the new girl. I wanted to be his only girl.
The first time I fucked my own father, it changed my whole life. I'd never had a cock in me before and then, when I finally learned all the wild, animal joys of completely abandoned sex, all the wonderful ways a male and a female can join their bodies to bring impossible thrills I'd never thought existed, I got so sex hungry I couldn't quit. I did it with my own father, and became a sex pervert; but I was hooked – I liked it and I couldn't stop. I had to have more and more of Daddy's cock in me all the time.
But it began long before that first fuck; it began right after my mother's death. I found my real father. Daddy had to sell the house because of medical bills, and we were forced to move to an inner city old established gothic apartment. Before that, I had been just another little girl – innocent and pure – but for being touched up as a child by a man I was forced to reveal all to daddy by accident. he got the news from police friends within weeks of getting to know me.
living in the apartment with him and having to getting to know my real father changed everything after being assaulted by a man who wanted me to be his prostitute fantasy. when daddy found out it really must have shocked him. I knew almost the moment we both walked in that there was a feeling of lust in the very air of the place. I knew I had to have sex – pure, raw animal sex – and I wanted it with my own daddy.
That move to the apartment was the beginning of our strange life together. We began a subtly different relationship right from the first day there.
There we were, a 19-year-old girl and her father, surrounded by all the impossible junk of twelve years' collection. Because we couldn't do anything else, we both sat on the floor and laughed out loud. We both seemed to feel the urge to laugh at exactly the same instant and, we kept it up for the longest time. The whole situation was absolutely hilarious and we couldn't help ourselves.
Finally, Daddy took a great big breath and still smiling, said, "Well, sweetheart, which would you rather do, sit here and stare at this mess, or go out on our first date?? How's dinner and a visiting some friends sound??"
Of course, there was no choice. The dinner and café evening with his work and close friends were much more exciting than any sort of hard work. Although I was anxious to find my room and to put my things away, I knew that all that could wait until the next day. We had moved in on a Friday purposely, so that we could have two full days to put everything in place, and I
certainly didn't want to exhaust myself doing it the first night.
Right from the moment I accepted my first "date," Daddy seemed to change from a tired man into a really romantic figure. He started to plan the evening, asking me what I would like, and as I placed a few things around the apartment, he went out to get a newspaper to find out what movies were playing and what restaurants were serving what.
We planned the whole thing together and he even helped me select a dress to wear. Then he told me that the following day he would let me try my hand at decorating the whole apartment.
There had been any stigma to nudity in our family. We weren't nudists and we hadn't made a point of parading around the house without clothing on, but either had we run around like prigs and prudes locking doors while we were dressing or doing other such Victorian things to call attention to nudity. I had often seen my mother dressing and Daddy changing clothes in a hurry. I, however in turn, had no idea of false or ridiculous modesty. I was taught to be decently dressed in the living room and at meals, regardless of the time of day. But I also knew that there was no shame in nakedness.
Maybe that's why, when we decided on the movie and found out the time, I asked if I could take a shower at the same time he did, so we would be able to eat our dinner without rushing.
By the time of our move, I still was not completely aware of the changes that must have been starting within my mind and body. A 17, I was just experiencing the first rolling surges of sexual awareness and budding maturity and that evening in that old gothic bath tub, I shocked myself – these things all came to the fore in a way I had hardly expected and hardly knew hoe to explain.
While Daddy adjusted the flow and temperature of the water, I quickly slipped out of my dress and peeled off my panties, socks and shoes. He let me get into the tub and start the water running swishing some petals and salts in, while he had a towel around his waist putting on his white t-shirt and designer jeans, and completing his grooming.
Up until that precise moment, I had never really noticed Daddy's body before. As I looked at him through new eyes, I saw that he was tall and thin, but thin in a way that most people would call wiry I hid my curiosity with coy shyness and blushed. Actually, he was magnificently built compared to most men his age – and for many a lot younger!
He had a little. hair on his chest, but wasn't really a hairy man. His forearms and face were sunburned, making him look as though those extremities had been painted. If I had had to describe his face, I doubt that I would have been able to. Before now, Daddy was just a tall man who sometimes looked older than his thirty years because of worry, and other times seemed almost like a teen-ager. His hair was a brown red and I suppose there could have been a little grey in it, but it was hard to spot because his hair was so light to begin with.
Until that moment when we were about to share our first semi nakedness, – I knew I needed to learn familiarity with him, his face and body that were his alone but that would have to see him as just Daddy. Could I ever give either his face or his body a second thought?? They were merely part of that his texture and it would take time to see a familiar fixture of a parent I had to get to know and never really seen. this new Daddy was someone I could never take for granted, but had never really noticed before how timid and dumb I was with bodies and men and sex in general.
But that evening, as I took the soap and started to rub myself with it, I was fascinated by his sexual parts. Even though I had seen them before it was as if I had never really seen them! I couldn't take my eyes off that soft torso and wicked soft skin, and wondering about what was under that towel, a wet cushion of hair and the beautifully rounded tube that seemed to beckon my attention even though it was obviously completely relaxed. Just looking at his soft skin and almost cry baby pink face I swear I could see the reflections of how beautiful his dick was just in his embarrassed blushing face. I had to get to know this man, and be more then strangers with him.
And something about it excited me so much that I literally had to reach out and touch it – as if some force other than my own was compelling my hand toward my father's prick. Try as I would, I could not stop it from reaching out…
I think my father must have known what was in my mind. At least, I'm sure he saw my hand moving towards his private parts. Without sudden movement, or anger, or any sign of embarrassment, he simply turned around and as I delicately undressed my silk robe. That simple act brought me back to total consciousness, although I could never forget my recent and totally new vision of his rod just looking into his face. I seen it as pink, delicious and interestingly something I would cry over like a spoilt child in a lolly shop.
while I visually ate into his firm body flesh, I also rubbed soap on my own private parts let the flower salts and oil essences fill the air and invite him in as I tied my hair up in a softly half Gibson bun. I noticed him glance at me as if he was thinking and looking twice at me in a different way. like he was looking at a woman in a movie or magazine.
That was all that happened in the restroom. Yet, from that time on, I experienced terrible excitement and recurring thoughts of my father's prick. And that night, I couldn't get them out of my mind.
Without further incident of any kind, we both dressed and drove to the restaurant where Daddy was a perfect doll of a date. He ordered everything for me and treated me just like a perfect little lady – as if I really was his date and he were thinking of me as a romantic and mysterious woman of the world, instead of his own daughter, sometimes I felt him looking at me as if I was his little girl of ten or eleven he needed and wanted to get to know, the daughter he missed out on knowing then.
I felt as if I were in a dream world during the entire meal. Before dinner he ordered me a Shirley Temple and himself a Martini and clinked glasses with me, giving me a knowing wink as if we were sharing some great romantic secret. During the meal, he told me of the things he was studying in school.
He was studying legal architecture and told me about fantastic buildings in Rome and Milan; all about the tilting tower of Pisa. I allowed my mind to wander with these wonderful romantic thoughts, feeling giddy, half-believing that he was a handsome prince and we were dining at some gloriously old restaurant in Rome or Genoa.
Then, the romance was shattered by the memory of my vision of his penis under that towel in the tubs. A different feeling soared through me as truly agonizing on one level as it was rapturously exciting on another.
The dinner was delicious, probably more due to my dreams and fancies and the candlelight than to the food itself.
I don't even remember what the movie was, but I do remember that I held Daddy's hand as we walked to the car and he drove home like I was some hot date he wanted to impress, feeling his strong, cool presence driving and when he had held my hands in with such protective fingers on mine as we walked across the road I felt like his ultimate date and dream girl, and I was slipping into a glossy sexy wet love for this evening and him and an excitement in the air was seducing me into passions. I was as much in love with sudden lusty excitement as any young girl of my age.
But I was shy about my body, too. I did enjoy the ecstasy of watching him looking at me and the way my soft silky dress clinged to my hosiery and how someone noticed it and he looked at my legs several times admiring his bodies art what had made me. Even though I had been thinking of the memory of his penis, I was both ignorant and coy at the same time. Besides, I knew absolutely nothing about.sex except what it was like to pushed down and raped by a man one night in a sleazy party. Maybe he had told daddy the whole story; but I don't think so. All I knew was that I was experiencing a feeling that was part loneliness and part childish desire, fear of being seen as a dirty slut no man would want to possess and terror that I was soiled for life. I had longed for love and sexual desires and for what was beyond my grasp, that made me cry too often.
I was half intoxicatedly asleep it was a dream state of desire I could not believe is happening to me at last. when we came in the car– I felt gooey and watched his body like a hawke like jealous anticipating and rival ready lover, the bitch in me came out a few times as he got glances from others in the car.
That night I found that I was in his study almost without my clothing on and that Daddy had slept cm a couch in the main room. He admitted he loved the silky dress on me and how it clinged to my legs and he smoothed it down in a subtle way that made my vagina walls quiver.
I knew something else when I woke up, too. I knew that I must have dreamed strange and supposedly forbidden thoughts – my pillow was pressed tightly between my legs, against my vagina, and I had succumbed to my first strange and compelling urge that morning! As I was waking from a half-sleep, I felt my own hand moving tenderly down my bare stomach and under the elastic band of my panties. I reached lower, unable to stop my movement and slipped one finger into my sexual parts, only to find that they were pleasantly hot and very, very wet.
I became a little frightened by my feeling of hot wetness and lifted the covers up so that I could inspect myself. All was in order and nothing seemed to look strange, so I lay on top of the pillow and kept my finger slowly moving against myself. Then, again, I saw the vision of Daddy's penis every time I looked at him and wanted to see it for real just as I had seen imagined and blushed at the night before while he was in his towel. Did he know he made me cry every time he would gently rebuff my hands of desire. my needy eyes and heart were tearful over him most nights in bed.
I had another uncontrollable urge to reach out and touch it.
The thought frightened me but I couldn't stop the movement of my finger – it felt too divinely good and I wanted to keep it up. I don't know how long I would have lain there that way, or even if I might have had my first orgasm masturbating thinking of him, but when I heard Daddy call me, I stopped. I cried as I went back to it dipping my head into the sheets for secretive cover. Feigning being awakened from a deep sleep, I called back, asking what he wanted.
Never shall I ever forget how handsome and graceful Daddy looked as he walked into the room bearing a glass of hot tea for me.
"Came on, baby," he said. "We've got a big day ahead of us. I'm going to let you decorate the apartment." after he left and I was over blushed I just had to orgasm. the more his eyes showed embarrassment and confusion and if we could get away with this. I thought "please daddy fuck me, love me" because I want to get to know you like this, like anything at all. he was making me cry and feel unwanted but if we shared this real sexual connection in body and soul for real and let it happen everything would be alright.
The prospect of re-decorating the apartment to accommodate me and him newly all by myself was so exciting that I fairly sipped the tea down in order to get started on him looking at my body and thinking of me in that light as soon as possible. But had I any idea just how big that "big day ahead of us" was to be, I think my reaction might have been entirely different.
I knew I had to make me his primary priority and remove all other competitors. He was going to be mine and I would seduce every pore of his skin, every glance and ever sexual thought he had til I broke him down. It was not like we had known each other as daddy and daughter all our lives. we had guessed of each others existence subconsciously no doubt because the power when we met was electric. our lives may have even over lapped many times unaware?? I knew I had to fight for him. to be part of him not just as the new girl. I wanted to be his only girl.
