Chapter One
Things changed between me and my daddy recently, and I wanted to get it all down before I start forgetting the details. But first, a little background. My dad and I live alone in a small, two-bedroom house. And up until two years ago, my mom lived with us, too. Unfortunately, she passed away from a rare disease that weakened her heart. We had all known it was coming, since we found out when I was fifteen. She lasted over a year past what the doctors originally predicted, but none of that prepared me and my dad for when the day finally came.
My dad is a handsome guy, in his early forties. He's got dark brown hair that he keeps cut short, but messy. I don't think he ever brushes it, to be honest. He's a lot taller than me, at almost six feet. He has a manly looking beard that he trims regularly to give him that "five o'clock shadow" look almost all the time. Occasionally he shaves it away, but it comes back within a day or two. He works out at home and goes running a few times a week, so he's pretty fit. And, since my mom passed, he works his ass off to make sure I have everything I need. In short, I love my daddy to death.
Now about me. My name is Danielle and I'm nineteen years old. I was super skinny through most of my teenage years, until my body started developing just the past two or three years. My breasts started to grow, and then they kept growing. I had never wanted to have large boobs. My body isn't very fleshy, but I'm not as skinny as I was in my early teens. The "little girl" look got replaced by an hourglass shape that most certainly seemed to attract the interest of boys at my school. My weight went from under a hundred pounds to a few pounds over as my breasts filled in. As for my height, I'm five foot, two. And a half. I don't mind being short, though.
I graduated from high school last year and decided to take my first year off instead of rushing off to college right away. That was partly because I felt like I owed my dad another year of staying at home with him while we got things settled after my mom's death. He didn't seem to mind, although we rarely talked about it, so I wasn't completely sure.
A few months ago, dad told me he wanted to get a vasectomy. I was floored, honestly. At least at first. But I didn't want to make him feel bad about his decision, so I didn't voice any of my doubts about it. I decided the best thing I could do was to support him. My mom had been the caretaker of both of us, and I had vowed to fill her shoes now that she wasn't around anymore. I was sure she would have backed his decision, so I did, too.
The day of his appointment came during the last week of June. My dad was wearing a plain dark gray t-shirt and relaxed-fit jeans. As for me, I was wearing a light gray half-shirt with shoulder straps and a built-in bra. It hugged my upper belly tightly, but I liked it. The cups of the bra were open on the top, leaving the upper swells of my breasts exposed, and a fair amount of cleavage. I didn't have any special reason for wearing that today, but it was one of my favorite tops. For pants, I had on a pair of tight-fitting washed-out jeans with some designer tears randomly along the legs.
By nine in the morning, we were on our way to the clinic. They recommended not to do anything extraneous for several days, including driving a vehicle, so I was in the driver's seat. But I was all too happy to help my daddy out, so I didn't mind at all. The clinic was almost an hour away, so we grabbed something to eat on the way and then had plenty of time to chit chat.
About halfway there, I decided to ask a question that had been brewing in my head ever since my dad had told me he wanted to have the procedure. I felt embarrassed to ask about it, but when I finally mustered up the nerve to put it out there, I opened with, "So..."
When I didn't say anything else, my dad turned toward me from the passenger seat and asked, "So... what?"
Gripping the steering wheel tightly, I opened my mouth and then froze. Swallowing, I forced myself to spit it out. "Does this procedure make--" I couldn't get the rest of my question past my lips.
My dad cleared his throat and then asked, "Make what?"
Glancing at him, his face was very disarming. I knew he wouldn't judge me, no matter what I asked. So I asked in a rush, "Does it make your... uh, your stuff stop coming out?"
"My sperm?" my dad asked, not sounding offended at all.
My face heated up but I nodded, saying weakly, "Yeah."
He laughed softly. Then he said, "No dear, something still comes out. It's called semen. But it won't have any sperm in it."
"Oh good," I said before I could stop myself. Good? Why would I give a fuck if my dad's... semen stopped coming out? My cheeks grew hotter still.
"Good?" he asked and when I glanced at him, he had his brows furrowed. Crap. Now he probably thought I was a weirdo.
"Uh, that's not what I meant," I said, trying to ease my embarrassment.
It didn't help that my dad laughed again, and the rest of the drive was more or less filled with silence, and a tiny bit of small talk about nothing important. When I finally pulled the car into the parking lot and found a spot, I put it in park and was just about to get out of the car when I caught something from the corner of my eyes. When I looked over at my dad, his face was white as a ghost.
"You ok?" I asked, suddenly concerned.
He closed his eyes for a second but then nodded. Pulling the handle on his door, he got out of the car without a word. I followed him into the clinic where we were ushered to sit in a large waiting area. There were about a dozen other people in the room. This place handled all kinds of birth control, not just vasectomies.
After helping my dad fill out the medical forms, we sat quietly while we waited to be called. I had already decided I was going to go in with him. He was my daddy and I wanted to be there for him, to support him and make sure he was ok. But after almost a half hour had gone by without being called, I could tell my dad was having a rough time. When I questioned him about it, he admitted that he was extremely nervous about the procedure. Not long after that, he looked so pale, I was sure he was going to pass out.
Taking control of the situation, I went up to the counter and asked if they had a place where patients could lie down if they were feeling faint. I figured my dad couldn't be the only one to get cold feet before going through with something like this. Sure enough, the receptionist led us to a private room toward the back of the building. She assured me that he could rest there until he felt ready to go on and asked me to let her know when he was ready.
A few minutes later, I found myself sitting on a surprisingly comfortable chair in a private room while my dad laid down on a long couch. The room had two other chairs, a small kitchenette and a low-standing table. I didn't know how long my dad would need, but I was content to wait as long as it took. After twenty minutes, I got up and went over to the sink, filling a cup with filtered water for him. Bringing it over to my dad, I sat on the edge of the couch he was laying on and handed it to him. He took it from me and drank it noisily.
Staring at his face, at least some of the color had returned. But I still frowned at him. I was worried. Putting a hand on his hip, I asked quietly, "What can I do, daddy?"
He shook his head and said, "Nothing."
Frowning at him, I rubbed his hip absently. Then I asked a different question, "What would mom do if she was here?" Thinking about her immediately brought up memories and I felt the loss pang in my chest. But it wasn't as bad as it used to be. And I had tried to fill her role where my dad was concerned ever since she passed. He didn't do that well on his own.
My dad frowned back at me and then suddenly started laughing. I opened my eyes wide in surprise. What was so funny? "What are you laughing about?" I asked.
"You don't want to know," he said, still chuckling. Well, that was an improvement at least!
"But I do!" I said, pushing his hip a little teasingly. I was grinning at him, even though I didn't even know what I should be grinning about.
He cleared his throat and then stared into his empty cup as he said, "Uh, I was thinking about what your mom would do if she was here."
Nodding at him, waiting for him to tell me what that was, he didn't say anything. Finally, I pushed his hip again, making his body roll a little, and then asked, "...and?"
"Uh," he said, still staring at his cup. Then I noticed his cheeks were turning red. Oh. Was he embarrassed? What the hell was he thinking about? What would my mom do? My curiosity was suddenly like an itch that I had to scratch.
"Daddy?" I called to him.
He shook his head slowly and muttered, "Forget I said anything."
I sat quietly after that, thoughts tumbling through my head. I knew I was trying to guess what he was thinking. What would my mom do? What would my mom do that would make my dad embarrassed to tell me? Finally, I couldn't take the suspense, so I used my best pleading-daughter voice and said, "Please daddy?"
"Please what?" he asked, looking up at me.
"Tell me what you were laughing about," I said. Then I added, "What mom would do."
He stared at me for a good ten seconds without answering. Then he sighed and looked away as he spoke quietly, "Your mom would give me a blow job."
Oh. And now it was my turn for my face to turn red. But as embarrassing as it was to have this subject come up with my dad, I was still curious. So, I finally asked, "How would that help?"
He shrugged, clearly uncomfortable with the subject himself, but he answered, "When I get relaxed after... afterwards, nothing fazes me."
"Oh," I said. I didn't really know what else to add. But my mind was churning with thoughts about it. Images kept popping up. Made up images. I had never seen my dad's penis. But I imagined...
"She used that trick on me once when I cut myself and she had to stitch me up with a needle," he elaborated.
My mom was a nurse and often used to handle mundane medical things at home, apparently including stitches. And blow jobs. I laughed out loud and my dad looked at me with a startled expression. But a few seconds later, he was grinning at me. I don't know if he knew what I was thinking about, but maybe it was a way to ease the discomfort of a father talking to his daughter about blow jobs.
We sat in silence for quite a while after that. Dad put his head down on a little pillow and closed his eyes. I watched him without a word. At least the color was back in his face. I still had my hand on his hip and I was rubbing it absently, trying to comfort him. And in my head, all I could think about was what he had said. That if my mom was there, she would give him a blow job and that would help him relax. I had only given three blow jobs in my life, but I had enjoyed them all. There was something erotic about making a boy get off by using my mouth alone, instead of during sex.
I started trying to visualize what my father's penis looked like. Was he big? How big? Did my mom used to swallow, or spit? How often did she blow him? Did it feel different than masturbating? What did his cum taste like? Wait. What was that thought? Oh Christ, Danielle. I needed to get out of my head.
"Daddy?" I asked, breaking the silence.
"Hm?" he responded without opening his eyes.
"Are you still nervous?" I wanted to know if he was feeling better.
My dad sighed, nodding. "Yeah, pretty much," he muttered.
More thoughts tumbled through my brain. What would mom do? What should I do? What was I even fucking considering? Was I serious right now? Should I do what mom would do? I wanted to help my daddy. And he definitely needed it. Help, that is. But did that mean the only way to help was to give him a blow job? That was it, wasn't it? I was thinking about giving my dad a blow job. I should not be thinking about that! But I couldn't help it. My hand was kneading his hip and I realized that it was only a few inches away from his penis. My eyes dropped down, staring at my father's crotch. Was he hard? No way.
Licking my lips, I whispered, "So..." That was typical me. I knew what I wanted to say, but I just said the first word until someone asked me to go on.
My dad opened his eyes and glanced at me, raising an eyebrow. Then he asked, "What?"
I licked my lips again and then whispered, "What if I..." I couldn't finish my question. My cheeks felt hot.
"What, Danielle?" he asked as he propped himself up on one elbow, staring at me.
Swallowing the huge lump in my throat, I said, "What if I... did what mom would do?"
His eyebrows shot up on his forehead and he scolded me, "Don't talk like that!"
After that, I sat in silence, feeling ashamed. Until someone knocked on the door a few minutes later. When I went and opened it, a nurse was outside and she said tersely that we needed to be ready for the procedure within half an hour or we would have to reschedule. I thanked her and then told my dad what she had said. He got up off the couch then and started pacing around the room. He was clearly getting uncomfortable again. He was probably thinking about the procedure.
As he spun on his heel and started walking toward me again during his pacing, I found myself staring at his crotch. And that's when I realized that I could see it. His penis was pressed tightly against the fabric of his jeans. Oh. Why was he hard? Was it because of what I had... offered? Thinking about it again made me squirm on the couch where I sat. But I kinda had to know. You know?
"Dad," I called to him.
"What?" he asked, sounding gruff. He didn't stop pacing.
If I didn't ask right away, I knew I would chicken out. So I just blurted, "Are you hard?"
He froze where he had been pacing. "What?" he asked, not looking at me. Then he spun toward me and saw where I was staring. "Oh for fuck's sake, stop looking!"
I didn't say anything, but I also didn't look away. I couldn't. Staring at the bulge in his pants had me mesmerized. What was wrong with me? Finally, I just said, "I can't help it."
He wrung his hands together, spinning away from me. Then he muttered, "Ah jesus, you're making it worse."
"Sorry, daddy," I said softly. I didn't mean to make him uncomfortable. He didn't say anything else and resumed his pacing after a minute. Unable to let it go, I pushed him with yet another question. "Would it help if you, uh... masturbated?" I asked. Not a question a daughter usually asks her dad.
"Jesus Danielle!!" my dad shouted, spinning and glaring at me.
Hunching my shoulders in, I said, "I'm just trying to offer a suggestion. To help."
He stared at me for a good thirty seconds before finally letting out a breath and then saying, "Maybe."
Licking my lips, I noticed there was a distinct tingling sensation in my belly and, admittedly, between my legs. Without looking at him, I shrugged and tried to sound casual as I said, "Ok, go for it."
"Uh," was his only response.
When I looked up at him, he was staring at me. He had stopped pacing. I shrugged at him, and said, "It's ok. I won't look." Then I got up from the couch and walked over to the sink, my back to him.
"You're serious?" he asked after a minute.
"Why not?" I said without turning toward him.
He sighed but then the room filled with silence. A minute ticked by and not a word was uttered. Another minute. Another--CLICK! I heard the sound of the door being locked. Oh! His footsteps were soft, but clear as he walked back to the couch. It squeaked as he sat on it. My hands started to shake. Was this really happening? Was he really going to do it? I heard a rustling sound and then a zipper being pulled open. My breath caught and I found myself gripping the edge of the sink.
Thirty seconds later, I heard it. The unmistakable sound of my dad masturbating. No words could describe the sudden thrill that shot up the inside of my pussy just then. It was tingling like mad. This whole thing was arousing as fuck, which was a complete surprise to me. I squirmed, squeezing my thighs together. Oh daddy, I thought to myself.
After a few minutes, I heard his breathing begin to quicken. The sound of his stroking hand seemed to be caressing my earlobes. Trickles of sensation spilled into my body, filling me with arousal. I squeezed my thighs together, unable to hold still. Daddy's breathing grew heavier still and then the whisking sound of his masturbating sped up. Faster. It sounded so fast! Then I heard the most beautiful sound in all the world. My daddy moaned. It was followed immediately by a soft curse. I giggled.
"Danielle, shush," he whispered at me.
I listened in rapt silence as he continued stroking himself. God how I wanted to peek! My heart was pounding rapidly in my chest, I realized. And, oh my, I was breathing harder than normal. My pussy tingled, wanting to be itched. Finally, I had to say something. Opening my mouth, I spoke softly into the room, "This is turning me on, daddy."
The sound of my father stroking himself slowed and then stopped. I could still hear him breathing heavily. He didn't say a thing. Wait, was he done? Did he... have an orgasm? I had to know. I had to look. My body was heavily aroused.
Slowly turning from the sink, I looked straight at my dad. He had an expression on his face I had never seen before. Was he mad? Jesus, had I seriously just told my dad that I was turned on? I couldn't help letting my eyes slide down until I was staring openly at his crotch. They opened wide in shock when I saw his penis. It was... massive. At least it looked massive to me, from across the room. He had one hand wrapped around it in a death grip. As I stared at it, it suddenly twitched in his hand. Just then I watched as something shiny squirted from the tip, oozing down the side of his boner and onto his hand.
My dad let out an uncontrollable moan and my eyes whipped back up to his face. Oh! No, that wasn't anger I had seen on my dad's face. It was... something else. His features were contorted, like he was straining. Almost the same look someone might have if they were in pain, except I knew that wasn't it. No, my daddy was aroused. And from the way his mouth hung open, I would say heavily. Plus he was still breathing hard. As we stared at each other, I saw his eyes droop down a few times. Was he checking out my tits? The thought sent a violent tingle through my chest and into my pelvis.
I felt myself being drawn inexplicably toward him. I'm not even sure why, but it just felt like the right thing to do. When I had crossed half the room, he finally let go of his cock and let out a breath at the same time, like he had been holding it. I couldn't help but look down again and I watched as his boner swayed from side to side, completely taut and erect. The head was shiny and, as I stared, I saw another trickle of liquid ooze from the tip, dribbling down the shaft. What was that? Maybe he really had already finished.
"Are you... done?" I asked, curious and acutely aware of just how inexperienced I was with sex, despite not being a virgin.
Daddy shook his head and then said softly, "I got too distracted when you--" he stopped mid-sentence and swallowed.
"When I told you I was turned on?" I offered, smiling to try to put him at ease.
He closed his eyes, sighing, but nodded. "Yeah, that," he said simply.
Biting my lower lip, I shuffled my feet. I felt nervous suddenly. Because a question had just popped into my head that I desperately wanted to ask, but I felt weird asking it. Squeezing my eyes shut for a few seconds, I inhaled as if I was drawing in courage. Then I opened my eyes and asked, "Can I watch you finish?"
He still had his eyes closed, but he didn't answer immediately. That was a good sign, right? If he was going to deny me, he would have said it right away, I decided. So I just stared at him intently, watching his chest rise and fall rapidly. His penis twitched again and I gasped quietly, my eyes dropping down to it once more.
Daddy's hand moved to it and, a few seconds later, he wrapped his fingers around his shaft one more time. Then he whispered, "Fine." Clearly, he was too aroused to care.
Then my dad started to stroke himself again. But this time with me watching openly. It was fascinating to witness. His hand glided up and down the shaft easily. Not too fast, but not at all slow. Up and down he stroked. I could hear the sound it made, the skin-on-skin friction. It was erotic to me. My own body was heating up rapidly as I observed him masturbating. More of the liquid squirted from his tip, and he gasped when it came out. It was dribbling down onto his hand, the backs of his fingers shiny from it. My feet were moving before I could convince them to stay put and, before I knew it, my legs bumped into my dad's knees when I reached him.
My dad opened his eyes and stared up at me. He was still stroking himself, I noted. Then he whispered my nickname, "Dani." Was that a protest? Was he asking me to step away? But he didn't stop stroking even while I stood right between his knees, staring down. In fact, his stroking started to speed up. And his eyes drifted shut again. That sent a wild thrill of sensation swirling into my vagina. I knew I was wet. I could feel my pussy lips getting sticky.
With his eyes closed, he didn't see what I did next. Slowly leaning forward, I reached out one hand, making a semi-circle with my thumb and fingers. When I was a few inches away from his penis, I whispered, "Can I?"
His stroking slowed and then he stopped moving. But he still didn't open his eyes. I could hear his labored breathing. Fleetingly I wondered if he was frustrated that I kept interrupting him. I decided I didn't care. This was way too fun to back off now. A few seconds later, my dad let go of his cock and I saw it bounce around once more. More of the liquid was oozing from the tip, dripping down the bottom of his cock, which happened to be the side facing me. As I stared at it, it twitched once more, followed by a soft moan from my father's lips.
Lowering myself to my knees, I scooted forward and felt my dad spread his legs wider as I moved in. That seemed like a pretty clear invitation to me. Licking my lips yet again, I reached my hand forward until I reached his cock, then I wrapped my fingers around it.
Daddy groaned. Then his breathing quickened rapidly, like he was hyperventilating. In my hand, I felt his penis twitching like crazy. Then he whispered, sounding urgent, "Oh fuck, I'm gonna cum!"
There was nothing for it but to go forward. I started stroking my father's penis. At first, my grip was too tight and I could feel his skin moving with my hand. But after a few strokes, I think I got the hang of it and loosened my grip. After that, the skin of his penis was gliding smoothly between my fingers and palm. My dad leaned back on the couch while I went to town on his cock, moaning loudly into the room. I swear his penis was getting even harder the more I stroked it. And warmer. It felt extremely hot against my palm.
"Oh daddy," I cooed, excited at what I was doing. I had to keep pressing my thighs together to control the itch between my legs.
Just then another little stream of liquid came out of the tip, almost like it was spitting. It immediately dripped down onto my hand as I continued stroking him. I realized it was sticky. Part of it clung to the head of my dad's penis, while a thin strand of it connected to one of my fingers, stretching out as I slid my hand down. On my way back up, the thin strand of goo broke.
"Dani," my dad moaned my name. That set off a chain reaction in my crotch. I was surprised not to see smoke coming out of my vag, it felt so hot inside. I continued stroking, up and down. His hot shaft tickled the insides of my fingers and palm. Up and down I moved, feeling his erection growing hotter still.
My dad slapped both hands down on the couch. Glancing at them, I watched as he grabbed hold of the fabric and started wadding it up as he twisted his fist around the material. His body started to shake. I started to turn my face back toward his cock when the first stream of cum erupted from the tip. Not knowing you had to aim it, the tip of his penis was pointed directly at my face and the first pump hit the cleft beneath my nose. Reacting by instinct, I pushed down on it, still stroking, and felt the next stream splash across my bare skin below my neck. The cum on my face dripped over my lips.
Moments later a third stream shot out and struck the top of my left boob. It was hot. Still stroking, I suddenly had an urge to get it all over my boobs. Maybe I had worn this shirt that provided ample cleavage for a reason after all. My dad moaned as he came and I steered the tip of his penis toward my chest purposely. The next stream that erupted splashed directly between my tits, the hot liquid oozing down into my cleavage. It felt warm all the way down. Daddy came again a few seconds later and once more, I aimed it at my chest. This was turning me on something fierce.
Daddy's cock squirted one more time and the stream landed a little higher, but immediately ran down my chest and into the gap between my breasts again. He was breathing heavily and I kept stroking him, hoping for more of his addictive nectar to stream out of him. But after about ten seconds, he placed his hand on mine and gently pulled me away. When I did, the room went completely quiet except for our mutual breathing. I realized my lips were damp from his first explosion, so I ran my tongue around them without thinking, and then froze. Shit that tasted good. Unfortunately most of his cum had already dripped off my face, or I might have tried to taste a little more.
My dad slowly shook his head, pulling my attention back to him. Then he whispered, "Fucking hell."
"Better daddy?" I asked, feeling hopeful. And horny. And acutely aware of the raging swamp in my crotch.
"No," he said. What? No?
Frowning, I said, "I thought for sure this would help, though."
He opened his eyes and stared at me. Then he said, "I can't do this procedure today. I... we shouldn't have done that, Danielle. I... fuck." He leaned forward, nudging me out from between his legs, and grabbed his pants and tugged them up his legs. When he was past his knees, he stood up while he finished pulling them up. Then he said, "Let's go."
My heart sank as we trudged out of the clinic. My dad told them he would have to reschedule and they thanked him and didn't make a big deal about it. As for me, I was kind of a mess. I realized as we walked that my shirt was completely soaked with daddy's cum. After running down between my breasts, it had latched onto the inside of my shirt, soaking through to the front. The majority of it had clearly pooled at the tight band at the bottom of my shirt. So now his cum was exposed so the whole world would know of our sin. And when I went to climb into the driver's seat, I realized something else.
The crotch of my jeans was just as wet as my shirt, if not more so.
We drove home in silence.
------X------
STORY:
Chapter Two.
My dad and I didn't talk about what happened at the birth control clinic at all that day. About the fact that I had, essentially, masturbated him. In fact, we more or less avoided each other. I could tell he had something on his mind about it, but he wasn't ready to talk. As for me, I didn't have the same conviction he seemed to have about what we had done. If anything, I would say that I had thoroughly enjoyed it. Way more than I would have suspected.
The following night, I decided that I wanted to bring it up. We needed to confront this and get it on the table. For the good of our little family. You know? After dinner, we both agreed to watch a movie together. But that really meant we were going to chat, even if he didn't know it yet.
And so, an hour later we were both sitting at opposite ends of the couch watching a mindless new action movie. My dad was drinking a beer, but as far as I could tell, he wasn't drunk. I decided it was as good a time as any to bring it up. "Daddy?" I called to him softly.
He turned toward me and sighed, then pointed the remote at the tv and paused the movie. Then he said, "Hmm?"
He was already suspicious about what I wanted to talk about. Oh well. I pushed on. "Are you upset with me?"
He frowned, leaning forward and setting his beer down on the table in front of the couch. Then he said, "Uh, not exactly, no."
"Are you upset about what I did, though?" I asked, prodding.
My dad picked up his beer again and took a drink. Uh oh. He was stalling for time. When he lowered it, he spoke without looking at me, "Yes and no."
"Explain," I said, feeling my heart thudding in my chest. I didn't want him to be upset about it.
He turned toward me and then said, "I shouldn't have let it happen."
Rolling my eyes at him, I said, "Yeah, but who cares? It's not like we had sex."
My dad groaned, falling back against the cushion. He put a hand on his forehead and then said, "I don't know. It's just... it's not right."
"Says who?" I asked, feeling frustrated. "I don't care. And this is just between you and me, right?"
"Well..." he said, his words trailing off as he thought about what to say.
I didn't let him get those thoughts to the surface as I added, "Daddy? I'm serious. You know I'm right."
Glancing at me, he sighed. Then he mumbled, "Whatever."
My frustration grew stronger and I started grinding my teeth, but I kept my mouth shut. For the next nearly fifteen minutes, neither of us spoke. He finished his beer and went to get another. As I sat there, my anger slowly dissipated and I realized that I wasn't actually upset with him. What I was... was horny. And I didn't have any problem with what we had done. In fact...
"Daddy?" I called to him again.
He looked at me like I had caught him in my headlights. "What?" he asked, sounding defensive.
I bit my lip. Hard. Then I blurted out, "Can I do it again?"
"DANIELLE!" my father's voice boomed as he shouted my name. He sat forward, nostrils flaring. He looked mad.
"What?" I asked, pulling my legs up to my chest and shrinking back from him. He deflated a little, the angry lines leaving his face. Then I said, "I'm sorry, but I just..." I looked away from him. And just like that, I felt my eyes brimming with tears. If this wasn't rejection, I didn't know what was.
Silence filled the room. I swear I could hear the second hand of a clock tick tick ticking. But we didn't have a clock in our house.
Dad was the first one to break the silence. He asked quietly, "You just... what?"
Wiping my eyes with the backs of my hands, I sniffled quietly. I hoped he didn't notice that I had tears. Without looking toward him, I whispered, "It's just that I got so turned on yesterday. Like a lot a lot."
"A lot?" he asked.
Nodding, I spoke barely above a whisper, "Yeah."
"Oh," was all he said, and then silence flooded the room once more.
Finally, I couldn't take it any more. Minutes had gone by and he hadn't said anything. He didn't give me any kind of acknowledgement to the fact that I had been incredibly aroused. But it dawned on me that he probably didn't realize that I had gotten so worked up, but without any kind of release. Or just didn't think about it, I guess. I decided to point it out to him.
"I never got off, you know," I said, tossing it out there like a grenade.
He grunted, then took a long swig of his beer. It was almost gone. Was that his second? Or his third? After what felt like an hour, although it was probably more like a minute, he turned toward me and then asked, "Well how is doing it again going to help you? I mean, you're talking about..."
"Masturbating you, yeah," I finished his sentence for him.
His eyes opened wide, briefly, and then he turned away. I saw color creeping up onto his cheeks. But then he nodded and repeated his question, "Yeah, so how is that going to help you?"
"Well," I started to tell him my thoughts, but hesitated. I was really pushing things here. Pushing boundaries that had been in place since the dawn of time. Boundaries that I had never agreed to, yet had always followed automatically. Isn't that the problem with this world? Nobody questions anything anymore. We just do what we're told, even if it's a lie. Drawing in a deep breath, I pushed through my nervousness and spit out the rest of what I wanted to say. "I thought that... maybe, if I... if I masturbate, like... at the same time?"
"Oh for the love of god," my dad said. Then he tipped his beer up and finished the rest of it. I didn't know how to respond to him, so I held my tongue as he stood up and headed to the kitchen. The one thought that kept skipping through my brain was that he didn't actually say "no".
A couple minutes later, he came back with another beer. He started drinking it and un-paused the movie. I didn't say a word but just sat there, stewing. I wasn't mad. I was upset, though. I felt... dejected. He didn't want me. But that was silly. What the fuck, Danielle? It's not like we were in a relationship. He's my father! And what happened yesterday was just a one-time fluke. A goddamn fluke. It wasn't even supposed to happen. And if my mom had been alive, she would have handled it for him and this never would have been a fucking issue.
I felt myself getting worked up, the more time I spent in my own head. But what was really odd was that, despite my frustration, I still felt the strong stirrings of arousal. My pussy was wet. It had been all day, honestly. And talking about this with my dad had only made my arousal stronger, despite his resistance. Fuck, I wanted him to at least return the favor. That seemed only fair. And then I remembered that he hadn't actually told me no. He never really answered my question.
So I pushed.
"Can I, daddy?" I asked, trying to use my little girl voice that always used to earn me a toy when we went to the store.
Sighing, he turned toward me, holding the beer in his hand. Then he asked, "You're fucking serious, aren't you?"
I bit my lip but nodded. "Yes," I whispered. I held his gaze, refusing to look away, even though I felt like he was scrutinizing the very nature of my soul.
Slowly, he lifted his beer to his lips once more and tilted it back, drinking nearly half the bottle in one go. When he lowered it, he had his eyes closed. I could hear him breathing rather heavily. And once again, I swear I could hear a clock ticking. In reality, it was probably my heartbeat. Finally, he uttered one, simple word, "Fine."
An explosion of excitement washed over me and I couldn't stop from clapping my hands happily. Mixed with that excitement was a fresh wave of arousal that felt euphoric. Not to mention it made my pussy feel like it had a heartbeat of its own. My dad looked at me wide-eyed and then cleared his throat, adjusting himself in his seat. His face started turning red. I think the gravity of what he had just agreed to was rapidly sinking in.
Suddenly feeling awkward, I didn't really know how to... get started. So I simply crawled across the couch toward him and propped myself up on my elbow, my legs sprawled along the couch. I could smell beer on his breath, but it wasn't strong and I didn't care. He cleared his throat again and then I watched as he quickly finished the rest of the bottle. Then he scooted forward off the couch and stood as he mumbled, "I'll be right back."
I stayed right where I was while he left the living room. First he headed down the hall and used the bathroom, which I thought was probably a good idea. On his way back, he stopped by the kitchen to get another beer. When he walked into the living room a few minutes later, he stood before me, staring down. His face looked pale. Clearing his throat again, he asked, "You sure about this?"
"Yes," I said with no hesitation.
He nodded as if he figured that would be my answer. Then, setting his beer down, he quickly unbuckled his pants and slid them down right in front of me. When he straightened, my eyes immediately zeroed in on his cock. His... very erect cock. Yet another wave of rippling pleasure washed over me, my body tingling in anticipation. I licked my lips instinctively. For five glorious seconds, I imagined myself diving forward and wrapping my lips around the beast that was pointing right at me. I felt like my vagina was gushing all over the couch, it felt so wet.
With a shake of my head, I wrenched my gaze away from his penis and looked up at his face. He was watching me stare at his penis, but when I stared into his eyes, he swallowed, then squeezed his shut. His body shuddered slightly. Then he turned and I got a view of his naked ass. It was firm and free of wrinkles. Leaning back, he sat down on the couch beside me and my attention was drawn once more to his penis, now less than a foot away from me.
"You're already hard, daddy," I stated the obvious.
He grunted and then said, "Yeah, well that's kinda your fault."
"Why?" I asked, confused.
Looking at me, he said, "Because you--never mind. Just... let's just get this over with."
Yeah. Enough chit chat. Putting all of my attention on the task before me, I adjusted myself a little to be more comfortable. I ended up lying on my side, leaning against his arm. I wanted to be able to use both my hands. Then I reached my right hand out and took hold of his cock.
Daddy made a hissing sound as he inhaled sharply and his penis immediately began to twitch as I held it. It was hot. Hotter than the day before, even. I started moving my hand up and down, stroking him, which produced an immediate response from him in the form of moaning. The skin of his penis felt surprisingly soft. Up and down, I continued my motion, letting my fingers and palm glide against his skin. Every time I reached the head, his breath caught. I purposely didn't stroke him very fast. I wanted this to last for a while.
My body seemed to be getting hotter the longer I masturbated him. It was erotic as hell. Never in a million years had I imagined this happening. But now that it was, it was like a fantasy come to life. Up and down, I slid my hand, eliciting more and more moans from him as his pleasure rose. I squirmed on the couch, unable to keep myself still. My crotch was getting wetter by the minute and my clit had started tingling. I felt like I was sweating.
Pushing myself up, I stopped stroking him for a second, out of breath. Jeez, this felt like I was running a marathon to be this winded. But I was insanely hot and could feel sweat dripping down my sides. Out of breath, I started tugging at my shirt. I wanted to take it off. As I started to lift it by the hem, I realized I didn't know how he would react to me suddenly being naked. Looking at him, I saw him staring at my stomach, where my hands were working on my shirt.
"Do you care if I take this off?" I asked, breathlessly.
He was already shaking his head before I finished my question. "Do whatever you want if it makes you happy," he said. His mouth was open and he was breathing heavily.
Wrenching my shirt off over my head, I tossed it to the floor and I heard him gasp. When I looked back at him, his eyes were transfixed on my chest. On my tits. My very bare, very naked breasts. I realized he hadn't seen me naked in years. Glancing down and admiring my own boobs for a few seconds, I hoisted them up with both hands and asked, "You like these?"
"They're fucking perfect," my dad exhaled, his voice pitched low. He sounded sexy. And aroused. Maybe even intoxicated.
Lying down again in the same position, I wrapped my hand around his cock once more, stroking it immediately. He started squirming on the couch, his breathing getting shallower and shallower. I didn't know how long he could last, and I really wanted to get off, too. So, without a word, I ran my free hand over my bare tits, gliding over my nipples and making them tingle, then down my body until I reached my sweatpants. Digging my hand inside, I went right for the gold, burying my fingers in the folds of my labia.
Then I started to masturbate. Myself and my father simultaneously. I did not expect the pleasure explosion that erupted a few seconds later. The stimulation was intense, both emotionally and physically. I couldn't help but stroke him faster. Up and down my fingers glided along his shaft. Simultaneously, I rubbed and stroked the lips of my pussy with my other hand. Liquid was indeed oozing out of my cunt, and everything down there was fucking soaked. My juice immediately drenched my fingers, giving them a nice, greasy coating. Sliding them up between my lips, I zeroed in on my clitoris and gently rubbed my finger back and forth across the top of it.
Explosions of pleasure erupted in my crotch, radiating outward and upward. I gasped, pressing my clit harder, rubbing it a little faster. My dad's breathing grew louder and I realized that I had sped up my stroking even faster. Both hands were trying to sync up, matching the other's speed. I realized in that moment that there was no way I could possibly slow this process down. I needed to have an orgasm. And if that meant daddy having one--
"I'm going to cum!" he announced, as if on cue. When I looked up at his face, his eyes were wide and he was staring at my breasts. He had his mouth open, gasping while I stroked him. His body was tense all over, I realized. Then he whispered, "I'm going to cum on your tits."
That sounded naughty hearing my dad say it like that. But god did I want him to! With a seductive grin, I said, "I know, daddy." Then I purposely pushed my chest toward him while aiming his cock toward them.
He was panting heavily, his muscles tensing even more. I felt him rise from the sofa a couple inches, straining. I stroked him faster. That's it, daddy.
"You want me to?" he asked in a strangled voice.
"Yessss!" I hissed at him, stroking him a little faster.
Meanwhile, my other hand was rubbing my clit frantically. The itch had sunk down inside of me and the only way to get to it was to mash it down harder. That meant my orgasm was going to be a big one, which didn't surprise me.
"God you're fucking naughty, Danielle!" my dad exclaimed.
Grinning at his cock while I continued whisking my hand up and down, considerably faster than when I started, I whispered, "I know."
Pleasure started pulsing between my legs. Oh god it was getting strong! I mashed down even harder with my fingertips, pressing into my clit. Rolling it round and round in circles, matching the speed that I was pumping my dad's cock, I felt my orgasm raging toward the surface. Here it comes! I pressed even harder against my clit, almost painfully. My mouth started opening. Faster I stroked daddy's penis.
"I'm about to cum, daddy," I whispered breathlessly.
"GAAAUHHHNNNNNNNNNNNN!!!" he cried out wildly.
Then his cock started spewing his cum, all over my naked chest. Ropes of it made a swath back and forth across my tits. It wasn't just warm when it landed. It was hot. Searing hot. When I felt it paint my nipples, I cried out with pleasure. My body started shaking. Enraptured by the scene, I continued stroking my daddy's cock as fast as I could while he expelled ropes of cum. I kept my aim pointed right where it was. I wanted every drop of it to cover my chest. Over and over, he shot his spunk on me while I diddled myself and masturbated him.
"That's a lot of fucking cum, daddy," I heard myself say, sounding wicked even to my own ears.
Then my orgasm hit me like a shockwave. I grunted, my body trembling and then convulsing as it coursed through me. My hand instinctively gripped my father's cock tightly, and for a few seconds, I stopped stroking him. His cum continued to pump out from the tip, landing on my heaving breasts. Pleasure rolled outward from my pussy in waves. Rapid, pulsing waves. I kept mashing my finger into my clit, rolling it in circles while the pleasure consumed me. My chest was drenched with cum. Daddy's cum. I shuddered, unable to suppress it. And the waves of pleasure just kept flowing. I couldn't breathe, so I just held still. Still rolling my finger round and round against my clit, I felt my body shaking hard.
I resumed my stroking hand on daddy's cock just as his final load sprayed out of him. It landed on my left nipple, which sent another ripple of pleasure through my body, right between my legs. He was gasping for air, and so was I. Still stroking him while masturbating myself, I felt the pleasure slowly draining from me. No more cum was ejaculating from his cock. I slowed everything at once. My body convulsed as another wave of pleasure rolled through me, forcing my eyes to roll back in my head for a few seconds. I opened my mouth wide, but no sound came out. I was gasping.
Finally, my muscles gave up and I felt myself sink down into the couch and against my daddy's body. He didn't move. Neither of us moved. I still had my hand wrapped around his cock, but I wasn't stroking it anymore. It still felt hot beneath my fingers, though. The only noises in the room were our labored breathing. And my heartbeat, which was so loud in my ears, I assumed my dad could hear it, too.
Completely devoid of energy, I let my head fall sideways until it landed on his thigh. My hand was covered with cum, and so was my chest. I could still feel it dripping down the sides of my boobs. God I loved how it felt. I don't even know why.
Ten minutes went by as we both slowly calmed back down, getting our breathing under control. He was the first to speak after all that time. He whispered, "I'm sorry."
"What the fuck?" I said, pushing myself up using some energy reserves that were fueled by my sudden anger.
"What?" he asked, looking startled.
"Don't say you're fucking sorry," I scolded him. Then I went on, "I fucking begged you to let me do this. So you don't get to be sorry, or it's like I'm just a goddamn plaything that you just used."
"Jesus, Danielle. Fucking language! Fine. Think whatever you want, that this is all just hunky dory ok," he said, clearly pissed.
I pushed myself up, letting go of his cock. Hopping off the couch, I landed on shaky legs. I was pissed. "Fine," I said, irritated. Then I left the living room and headed to my bedroom. I slammed the door when I went inside.
------X------
Chapter Three.
After my short, but explosive little spat with my father, I crawled into bed feeling horrible. But the aftereffects from my orgasm soon took over and within fifteen minutes, I felt so relaxed, I practically forgot what I had even been upset about. When I woke the next morning, I felt completely refreshed. I sought out my dad first thing and apologized for my outburst. He apologized, too and then we hugged. After that, things seemed to be pretty chill between us. Neither of us brought up what had happened, but for the moment, I was ok with that.
Several days went by without either of us even mentioning the taboo experience. Up until the following weekend, when our next meaningful conversation occurred. It was Saturday night and we had both agreed to play some video games together. Wanting to be comfortable, I wore one of my favorite tops. It was a black tank that was cropped above my belly (as usual). It had two fabric loops that went over my shoulders, but otherwise it was sleeveless. This particular shirt also exposed a fair amount of cleavage, and even hiked my tits up a little from how snug it wrapped the bottom of them. It wasn't quite as "revealing" as the shirt I had worn to the fertility clinic, but it was close enough. Beneath that, I wore my favorite nighttime PINK sweatpants. They were incredibly soft against my skin.
My dad and I played a racing game for about an hour. He was slowly nursing his third beer just as I beat him again, the sixth time in a row. He shook his head and told me he remembered when I could never beat him at video games. I laughed at him, feeling lighthearted and completely at ease. We hadn't played video games together in ages.
There was one question that had been tickling through my head ever since my dad had first told me he wanted to go have a vasectomy. I decided now was as good a time as any to finally bring it up. Setting my controller in my lap, I turned toward him and said, "Can I ask you something?"
He was in the middle of taking a swig from his beer, which he finished before asking, "What?"
"Why do you want to have a vasectomy?" I asked simply.
He glanced toward me and asked, "What do you mean?"
Frowning, to myself really, I asked, "I mean... are you, like... seeing someone?" That seemed like the only likely reason to want to have one, considering he wasn't technically married anymore.
My dad shook his head immediately at my question.
Pressing my lips together, I considered his answer. Then I asked, "So you want it so... so you CAN start seeing someone?"
He shrugged, looking just a touch uncomfortable. "Something like that," he said.
"Do you have someone in mind?" I heard myself ask. I wasn't usually this direct with my dad, but I really wanted to understand.
"No," he said, again almost immediately.
I stared at him, not understanding. Then why? What was the purpose? I felt confused, but sat in silence, thinking about it.
Finally he spoke quietly, "I guess it's more of something I want to do to get ready for the future, when..." He trailed off, looking at the tv screen.
"When what?" I prodded.
He looked at me, but then looked away. His cheeks were turning pink. Then he said quietly, "When I'm ready to start having sex again."
That added up. But I realized I had another question, so I blurted it out, "But what if you want to have another baby?"
My dad turned his face toward mine, staring at me intently. For a brief second, I almost thought he was going to start crying. But then he said, "I can't imagine doing that now that your mom is gone." He swallowed a lump in his throat, looking away from me. Then he added even softer, "It wouldn't be the same... and it would only be your half-sibling."
Seeing him on the verge of being emotional made me feel sad. For him, and for the loss of my mom. It had been long enough that I didn't let my own emotions take me down, but I did decide that silence was best for the moment. After a few minutes, I finally acknowledged him by saying, "I guess that makes sense. Although... I wouldn't mind having a baby sister."
"Really?" my dad asked, his head whipping toward me.
Nodding, I said, "Yeah."
"I didn't know you even thought about that," he said, looking and sounding surprised.
Shrugging my shoulders, I said softly, "I have a lot of things that I think about since mom died."
"Like what?" he asked, sitting forward on his cushion.
Frowning into my lap, I answered him, "Well, I guess I've been trying to..." I trailed off, lost in thought.
After a few silent seconds, my dad asked gently, "Trying to what?"
Slowly lifting my head and looking into his eyes, I whispered, "To fill her shoes." Now I was feeling emotional. My eyes started to water, so I turned away from him.
"Oh," he said. Then he called my name, "Danielle." When I turned toward him, he was smiling as he said, "I've noticed you taking care of the house. Ever since she..." He trailed off, swallowing a lump in his throat. With a brief shake of his head, he continued quietly, "Anyway, it helps a lot. I'm sorry if I don't tell you how much I appreciate everything you do around here."
Smiling back at him, I felt happy suddenly. It was nice to hear my dad tell me he appreciated me. A thought popped into my head and I blurted it out with no filter, "Plus and also, I guess I started wearing her shoes in other ways when it comes to you." I laughed, but it sounded like a nervous laugh. At the same time, I felt a funny tingle stirring in my crotch.
Dad was silent and he didn't laugh with me. Maybe it was too soon to be joking about it. Determined not to let this turn into another argument, I asked a random question, "Did you think mom was sexy?"
"Very much so, yes," he answered immediately. Then he took hold of his beer and started drinking it again.
I didn't know what else to add, so we sat in silence for a few minutes. Until he finished his beer and got up to get another. When he came back to the living room less than a minute later, he stood looking down at me. I tilted my head and looked at him sideways. "You know you look just like her when she was your age."
"Really?" I asked, perking up a little.
He settled into the couch with a sigh and then said, "Yeah. Like, she could be your twin. Or at least your sister." He chuckled as if he had just told a joke. I didn't see the humor in it.
Feeling exposed just then, I started chewing on my lip. Another question started rumbling through my mind, but I was hesitant to ask it. Because of our argument a week ago. I was afraid he would think it was inappropriate. But he was the one who had just compared me to mom, right after I asked him if he thought she was sexy. So this was on him. Fuck it. Opening my mouth, I asked, "Do you think I'm sexy?"
My dad froze with his hand holding his beer as he was about to set it down on the table. "Danielle," he said my name in the way he used to when I was little and he was warning me not to do something.
"What?" I said. Then I added, "I'm just curious." That was all. No harm in being curious.
Instead of setting the beer down, my dad sat back on the couch again with it still in hand. Then he took a drink. Afterwards, without looking at me, he said, "Well, a dad isn't supposed to think his daughter is sexy."
I just stared at him, even though he wasn't looking at me. He hadn't denied it with that answer. He was clearly deflecting, though. So I attacked with, "What's a dad supposed to think then?'
"About what?" he asked.
Was he playing dumb? Duh. Relentless, I said, "About his daughter. When..." I purposely trailed off. I knew what I was thinking, but I wanted to make him work for it. Since he was being silly again.
"When what?" he asked, taking the bait.
Leveling my gaze right at him, I said quite plainly, "When she can't stop thinking about giving her dad an orgasm."
"DANIELLE!" my dad shouted, beer spraying from his mouth.
But I wouldn't back down. I stared at him defiantly. Then I said, "Well it's true. And I'd rather just be open about it rather than bottle it up."
Instead of yelling more as I expected him to do, he went completely silent. Minutes ticked by and the silence grew. My dad shifted in his seat, uncomfortably. By that time, he had finished his fourth beer and sat there, spinning the bottle idly in his hands.
Finally, I couldn't take it anymore. I wanted us to be able to talk about this! So I said, "I liked having an orgasm, too, you know."
His head spun toward me, eyes wide. He looked more surprised than mad. And he asked dumbly, "You did?"
"Uh, yeah? Duh," I said in response, rolling my eyes. Of course, it was probably about as dumb as it was for me to state the obvious in the first place. Who wouldn't like an orgasm?
His face started turning pink again, and then red. I refused to back down, though. I knew what I wanted. And it wasn't just chit chat. "Dad?" I called to him.
"Wh-what?" He asked, sounding like his voice was strained.
Lowering my voice, I tried to make it sound husky. Sultry, even. I said, "I want to do it again."
Slowly he turned his head toward me, looking at my face. Then he sighed and closed his eyes as he said, "Yeah, that's kinda obvious."
Pouting, I asked, "Is that so bad?"
He opened his eyes again, but immediately wrenched his gaze away from me, looking down into his lap. When he didn't answer my question, I pushed on, "Can I ask you something?"
Dad groaned but nodded without looking at me.
I hesitated for three heartbeats. I was really pushing this hard. But determination won. Pulling my legs up onto the couch, I sat on them. Then I whispered, "Are you... I mean, is this turning you on, talking about this?" Staring at him, I held my breath.
For a few seconds, I thought he wasn't going to answer. Then he closed his eyes again, sighing, and said quietly, "I've been turned on ever since that day at the clinic."
My heart was pounding in my chest, I realized. As I sat on the backs of my legs, staring at my dad across the couch, I felt a deep, pulsing heat in my pussy. It felt urgent and demanding. I could have laid back right then and there and started masturbating. But I held my breath instead, staring at him. His eyes fluttered open and slowly, he turned toward me. His cheeks were flush, but it didn't look like embarrassment. His nostrils flared when he looked at me and I saw his eyes briefly flick down to my chest. To where I knew he had a nice view of my cleavage.
"Me too," I whispered, finally starting to breathe again.
"Fuck," was all he said. He was still staring at my tits.
I couldn't help myself. Leaning forward, I started crawling toward him. His eyes lifted back up to mine as I drew closer. He was watching me without saying anything. When I was one cushion away from him, I said breathily, "I want to give you another orgasm."
His chest was rising and falling rapidly as he breathed heavily. His mouth was open as he stared at me, but he still hadn't said anything. Without a word, I sat back on my legs again and then reached down, grabbing the hem of my shirt. Lifting it up over my head, I felt my breasts bouncing around for him while I pulled my long hair through the shirt. Shaking my head, I ran my hands through it, brushing the brown strands out of my face. When I looked at my dad again, his eyes were open wide as he stared at me. At my naked tits.
He did not tell me to put my shirt back on.
A smile of triumph made the corners of my mouth twitch, but I fought it down. I didn't want him to notice and change his mind if I looked too pleased with myself. Leaning forward again, I crawled ever closer to him. Then I reached out and touched his leg, whispering, "Can I?"
"Ok," he whispered in response, breathing even harder.
Sliding my hand to where his bulging erection was clearly outlined, I started rubbing his cock through his jeans. He gasped, inhaling sharply through his nose. Gently, I tugged at the button of his pants. Pretend pouting, I teased, "It's not fair that I'm the only one naked."
He started moving then, reaching down and undoing the button that I was fumbling with. He slid the zipper down and then lifted his butt as he started pulling his jeans off. He had snagged his briefs with it and as he pushed them past his knees, his raging boner sprung into view once again. I felt like I wanted to drool as I stared at it.
Whispering, I said, "You're so hard, daddy."
"Yeah," was all he said in response.
Grinning, I cocked my head to look at his face and asked, "So does that mean you think I'm sexy?" He never did answer that question earlier.
He looked directly into my eyes and whispered, "Fucking hell yes, you're sexy."
My pussy exploded with pleasure. From a fucking compliment? No, it was the way he said it. He was so... believable. He really did think I was sexy. My dad thought I was sexy. The profoundness of that started to sink in, creating a weird new emotion that stirred in the pit of my belly. I couldn't help myself. Reaching a hand out, I took hold of his cock and started stroking him.
"Oh god, Danielle," he moaned. The way my name sounded when he moaned was erotic.
Gently, I pumped my hand up and down his shaft, enjoying the tickling sensation of his skin against my palm. It was just as arousing to me as I figured it was for him. I wasn't even masturbating, but my pussy tingled as if I was. Shifting a little, I mashed my thighs together, squeezing the muscles in my pelvis against the pleasure. That made me moan quietly.
Still stroking my father's cock, I saw a little bubble of liquid ooze from the tip. A little more followed close behind. It was clear, but thick and gooey. It looked so interesting, whatever it was. I figured it was something related to sperm. I remembered it from that day in the clinic. At first, I had thought he had already finished. This time, I knew better. But that didn't stop me from wondering what it tasted like.
Licking my lips, fantasizing in my head and getting even more aroused, I felt my body leaning forward. Still stroking his cock as my face descended toward it, I felt my heart pounding hard. As my mouth neared the tip of his shaft, I opened it, leaning down a little further--
"Danielle, that's too mu--" his words choked off with a moan as my mouth closed over the tip of his cock. I could literally feel his penis pulsing with his heartbeat against my lips. There was no stopping me at that point. I pushed my head down a little further, feeling him fill my mouth. Too much. Backing off, I held onto the base of his shaft with my hand for support. Then I added my tongue to the equation, slowly dragging it around the head of his penis. It tasted salty and wonderful.
"Danielle, don't..." he started to say, but he trailed off and then gasped, his head lolling to the side.
"Dwnnt waaat aaddy?" I said, my words mangled by the fact that I had his cock in my mouth.
When he didn't answer me, I took that as full acceptance of what was happening. Smiling around his shaft, I started moving down again. Then back up. Down then up, I did a slow bob, letting his cock fill my wanting mouth over and over. He was big. Very big. I felt my lips stretching tautly the further down I pushed, and the tip of his penis kept tickling the roof of my mouth. Every few up and down bobs, I twisted my head a little, peering up at his face. His eyes were closed, his mouth open and he was clearly breathing hard.
God this was way more fun than I even imagined! Gradually, I really got into it. Using a combination of swirling my tongue around him, pressing down with my lips, and rubbing his tip along the ribbed top of my mouth, I worked myself into an almost frenzied activity of blowing my father. I still had a hand wrapped around the base, which acted as a governor to keep him from choking me.
Suddenly my dad's hands were on my head, and I felt his fingers twisting strands of my hair around them. He held me, gently. But the fact that he had his hand on my head was a surprising turn on to me. A big turn on, in fact. I could literally feel my pussy juice leaking down my thigh. Ignoring it, I focused solely on pleasuring my father.
Still moving my head up and down, I felt my mouth begin to salivate. Enough that I felt trickles of spit drooling down the sides of his shaft, soaking my hand still surrounding the base. Up and down I plunged, licking and sucking his shaft. My ears were ringing and I realized that was why I hadn't heard him moan in a while. Swallowing, they cleared up a little.
Oh yes, he was moaning. A lot. That only spurred me on with even more determination. Shifting my position to get a little better leverage, I put one hand on his thigh. Immediately, I felt myself toppling, so I let go of his cock and placed my other hand on his knee. There. That was better. Up and down, I moved my head, fucking him with my mouth. Oh god this was intense! I slurped and lapped at him, swirling my tongue around his head every few times I made my way to the top. Faster, I bobbed. Up and down. He was moaning louder, and I could hear him breathing heavily.
Just then, my father's hands gripped my head a little harder. He pushed gently on my way down, like he was helping me. I plunged my lips down his shaft, squeezing them together on my way back up. He pushed my head again and I went down. Up and down, we worked together as I continued blowing him. After a few minutes, I felt his hands shaking. It gave me the impression that he was trying to restrain himself.
My head slurped back up to the tip once more and then, as a test, I let the muscles in my neck loosen. When my dad pushed me down, there was no resistance from me. I felt his cock pushing deep into my mouth. Deeper than it had gone before. I realized suddenly that I had removed the hand that had been wrapped around the base. With nothing to stop my downward motion, and daddy pushing against my head, I took him in too deep.
Daddy's cock hit the back of my throat and I started coughing. His hands on my head immediately squeezed harder, holding me there. And he moaned loudly. His body started to shake. Inside my mouth, I felt his cock urgently forcing its way deeper into my throat. He was gagging me! I couldn't breathe!
With a cry, my dad yanked his hands off my head and I immediately lifted my head up, gagging and choking. But I didn't pull my mouth off. Once I reached the tip again, I held myself there while I recovered. Then I started groping at his tip with my lips and tongue, squeezing and licking. His shaking grew stronger, until I felt my own body shaking, too. Then I felt his hands move to my head again, twining his fingers in my hair once more. He kept twisting them until it started to hurt my scalp, but I didn't care.
Still gently suckling the tip of his penis, I started swatting my tongue back and forth across the tip. Then, feeling recovered after the gagging, I pushed myself down once more.
Suddenly, his hands on my head squeezed even tighter. He pulled my hair so hard, I saw spots in my vision even with my eyes closed. Then he moaned, "I'm about to cum!" He was breathing heavily.
Immediately, I started bobbing my head up and down again. Faster and faster I moved, going down a little deeper each time. I felt the tip of his penis tickling the back of my throat. I had to fight the urge to cough. His breathing grew louder still, and faster. He was shaking. He was pulling my hair so hard, I thought he was going to rip it off my head.
Something extremely hot sprayed the back of my throat. I immediately started gagging, but held my mouth clamped tightly around his cock. A second hot blast shot into my mouth. It was a thick, creamy load. Then a third one, and a fourth. Instinct tried to take over and I felt my muscles contracting as I tried to swallow. Some of daddy's cum went down my throat, but it was coming out so fast and so hard, I couldn't keep up. I started choking on it.
My dad was moaning loudly, his body shaking violently as he continued to explode into my mouth and throat. There was so much cum in my mouth, and so much cock, that I felt the liquid oozing out the sides of my mouth. I slurped and kept swallowing, but then I started coughing again. I kept the head of his cock in my mouth, though, coughing around it as he continued to spew his load. I was breathing through my nose by then.
Finally, the seemingly endless stream of ejaculate stopped spraying. I kept my mouth locked around his cock anyway, sucking on it, licking it, and making sure he was all done. His cock was twitching and I figured that if I leaned my ear against his chest, I would discover his heartbeat to be in rhythm with the twitching.
Clamping my lips hard around his shaft, I slowly pulled my head upward. When my lips reached the tip, they followed its contours as I pulled my head up off my father's cock. As soon as it was free, I watched it flop over on its side as if it had just passed out. I would have giggled, except for the insane amount of arousal that was surging through my body right then. Nothing was funny. Everything was erotic, though. My pussy tingled something fierce.
"Jesus daddy," I said, breathless. Then, pushing myself back and sitting on my legs again, I looked at him and whispered, "That was amazing..." I was beaming at him. And god I had loved every second of that blowjob. A thousand times more than I even expected.
My dad stared at me, slowly nodding. Then he said softly, "Yeah... it was."
Still smiling, I said, "Thank you for letting me do that." Then, as an afterthought, I added, "That wasn't so bad, was it?"
He laughed. Oh, that blessed laugh! It was worlds better than the argument that had ensued after the last round a few days ago. "I've never had a 'bad' blowjob," he said.
I frowned. Was that supposed to be a compliment? That could mean anything. It could mean, "Yeah sweetie, your blow job was pretty good. Better than average. Nice job!" Or it could mean, "A for effort, B for execution! But you got your product, so good job, champ!" I felt irritated for some reason.
He must have noticed something in my expression because he suddenly grabbed my hand and, when I looked at him, he said genuinely, "But as blowjobs go... that was the best I've ever had."
My pussy was gushing and it made me gasp. And right then, I started bawling. But not a bad kind of bawling. Tears cascaded down my cheeks, and I felt happy. Happier than I had ever felt in my life. My daddy's compliments were powerful as hell. I desperately wanted to kiss him right then and there, but I didn't want to push my luck, so I held back. Instead, I started to laugh and then threw my arms around him and hugged him.
Jesus that was a fun blow job.
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