Loading...There are mornings when I awaken alone in the darkness, shoot a nasty glance across the bedroom at the alarm clock, and try to will it to silence. Of course, that does not typically work, so I am forced to get up and get ready for work.
But then there are the weekends, when I awaken in the initial light of day permeating the blinds, with my loving daughter at my side. With my ex-wife now living in South America, I had my only child all to myself, and I truly cherished the weekends, when she would come home from her sophomore year of college, laundry in tow, a backpack of homework hanging upon a shoulder.
On this particular morning, my special Cara had awoken first. It was her warm hand upon my cheek which had turned my head toward her, and her gentle kiss which had caused me to stir slowly. It was so heartwarming to open my eyes and see her beside me in the bed.
“Good morning, Daddy,” she whispered. As she kissed me again, I turned toward her and took her into my arms, thankful that it was a weekend once again.
It took a few kisses for my mind to fully awaken, but another part of me was already quite awake. To once again be sleeping next to my daughter, each of us fully nude, to hold her in my arms and feel the love emanating from her, to feel her tongue brushing past my lips, it was definitely having an effect upon me…
Young Cara pulled her lips from mine and buried her face in my neck, clutching me tightly. The way her long fingernails curled against my spine, I knew she was needy. The way she arched her back and tried to pull me more firmly against her breasts, I knew she was trying to tempt me into action.
“It’s been only… what, seven hours?” I teased her.
“That’s eight hours too long,” she replied softly before gently nipping at my collarbone. Between the fingernails and the teeth, I shuddered, my daughter knowing me far too well. As she clearly intended, my arousal was strengthening, solidifying, unavoidable between us.
A long silence passed as I touched my daughter and enjoyed how she touched me. Cara knew exactly how to sustain my arousal without needing to touch me below the waist, and from the way her breathing changed over time, I could tell that her arousal was also being nicely maintained without my needing to dip a hand between her thighs.
My need was growing stronger as my mind became more and more alert with a greater focus upon the fact that I had a wonderful loving young woman in my bed once again. The fact that she was my daughter only endeared her even more to me, and if anything, it provided me extra inspiration to ensure to pleasure.
“Daddy, please…” she pleaded softly, her voice husky. Her body was writhing in my arms, at times trembling subtly as her need became ravenous.
I rolled her to her back upon the bed, and as she gazed at me with lust-clouded eyes, I slid a hand down her body, underneath the covers, over the barren mound to the warm moist folds between her thighs. Unabashedly, my daughter moved against my hand as she grabbed my wrist in a silent plea to keep my hand in place. While she was not spoiled, I have always found it difficult at best to deny her anything, so I kept my hand in place, surviving her tightening grip, until, at last, she announced her pleasure to the world, her sounds incoherent yet unmistakable.
Panting heavily, her body clearly still abuzz from her release, Cara’s grip loosened and her hands fell to her stomach. As I spread her nectar upon her skin, I discovered that she was covered with a thin sheen of sweat, the covers having retained the heat of her desire.
I slipped my fingers between her folds once again, collecting more of her tangy nectar and causing her to shudder anew and whimper softly in her post-orgasmic haze. “Daddy…” she whispered.
“Quiet now, princess,” I responded in kind. After brushing my fingers through her folds once more, I stroked myself, covering my erection with my daughter’s love, feeling the blood within me flow faster, my testicles seemingly growing heavier with the seed she inspired within me.
Cara’s hand upon my chest drew my attention, and I watched avidly as she drew down the covers, allowing the semi-cool air of the bedroom to alight upon us both. As if in slow motion, I watched her move languidly until she was in the proper position to kneel between my spread legs and bend forward, taking me into her mouth and tasting herself upon my strong erection…
“Slowly, princess,” I instructed her, “slowly…”
She complied, taking her time, using her hands and her lips and her tongue and, briefly, even her throat. Time seemed to stop. No longer could I hear anything from outside. No longer could I hear the soft ticking of the alarm clock. As I looked down my body, I could see the love in her eyes: the love of a daughter for her father, the love of her father’s sex in her small mouth and hands…
I reached instinctively for Cara’s head, but somehow was able to will my hands back to my sides upon the bed. I wanted so much to just use her, to take my pleasure from her, just like the first time when I simply needed to rut into a woman and she eagerly volunteered her body to me and accepted the violence I typically held in check deep within me.
…but this was not the time for rough sex.
She lifted her head, and I separated from her with a soft popping sound. “It’s okay, Daddy,” Cara assured me. “Use me, just like last summer, Daddy. Just like just after Mom left us…”
That first week had been hellacious for me on so many levels. Cara had tried to care for me, yet I had involuntarily pushed her away repeatedly until, on a Saturday evening, I had simply snapped, forcing my daughter over the bathroom counter, shoving up her skirt, pulling down her thong, and pinning her there with one hand while I brought out my cock – the very same anatomy which had helped to create her – and had simply fucked her without mercy, growling angrily throughout the experience, spitting venom as I simply used my own daughter.
…and then collapsing to the floor in tears, watching as my own seed had seeped from her body and dripped upon the off-white tile.
…and then a few minutes later feeling my daughter’s loving arms around me as she had consoled me with whispers of, “I’m here for you like she never was.”
“Over the counter, Daddy?” Cara asked softly with a hint of a smile upon her lips and in her eyes.
Perhaps two minutes later, Cara and I were in the same position as on that fateful Saturday evening some seven months earlier. This time, however, there was no anger. This time, I could truly enjoy my daughter’s loving body, revel in her wet warmth. I took great pride and even comfort in her cry as I pinned her to the countertop and filled her once again with my seed.
Sated at last, I disengaged from the loving young college student and guided her back to the bed to cuddle with her as the day brightened…