A Gift for My Dad- Part 2
A night out reveals a shocking secret…
I woke slowly, peering blurily through my tangle of golden curls. Last night’s champagne started to make its presence felt in the form of a killer headache.
Moving slightly, I remembered what had happened and whose body was underneath me. After a successful graduation ceremony and an evening of fine dining and dancing, I had made love to my father. It had been a sensual, sexy and beautiful experience.
My father’s hard body was supporting me now and his thick cock rested inside my pussy. I was no longer a virgin. I had given that gift to my father. He was reluctant to take it from me, horrified at the thought, but finally came to appreciate the love I felt for him.
I felt him stir beneath my tender breasts and I turned my head to look into his eyes.
“Morning Dad,” gazing into those sparkling emeralds. A mumbled response made its way through his sensitive lips.
The moment he recalled what had happened last night, I saw his eyes fly even wider apart and he started to apologize.
“Shhhh. Please Daddy. Don’t spoil it. I love you even more now than I ever have before.”
With a sigh, he closed his eyes and let his head fall back against the satin covered pillow. His hands slid around my waist and glided down over my firm cheeks. They massaged and fondled me, and I felt his cock stiffen inside of me.
Suddenly, his hands stopped.
“Oh, Beth. I can’t do this with you. Please, get up and let me have a shower. We need to discuss this. Oh, my head!!!”
Groaning, he rolled me over onto the other side of the bed, extracting his dick from my tight hole with some reluctance but bound by his morals – incest was wrong.
He staggered into the bathroom, shutting the door quietly behind him. I heard the shower running strong and fast.
I rose from the bed and felt pain between my legs. My pussy was ultra sensitive and felt sore and battered. But I needed more. I was addicted now, and I craved my father.
Waiting a little longer, knowing that Dad loved a really hot shower in the mornings, I opened the bathroom door a sliver and slipped into the steamy, moist room.
Through the swirling clouds, I could make out his toned form leaning against the tiled shower wall. The water gushed over his muscled chest and trickled down his sculpted legs. He looked tired and despondent, his shoulders sagging, his head hanging to the side.
And I knew just how to cheer him up! I crept noiselessly up to the frosted glass door of the shower and let myself in. I pressed my body against his, curving my body around his back and butt. My hands reached round and touched his nipples.
Jumping with fright, Dad spun round to face me.
“Beth!” he roared. “What are you doing!”
“Calm down, Daddy. You’ll make our hangovers worse. But I think I know a way to forget all about them.”
“No, honey…” but the rest of his sentence was lost as I covered his mouth in tiny kisses. My wet pussy moved along his thigh and my breasts slipped against his broad, muscular chest.
“Please Daddy. It’s what I want, what I need.” My breath tickled his ear as I whispered my desire.
Focussing my gaze squarely on those mirror image green eyes, I sensed his resolve slipping. He leaned forward and thrust his mouth forcefully onto mine, kissing me passionately. Pausing for a breath, he moaned, “Oh my baby, my beautiful little girl.”
He then resumed his exploration of my mouth, probing me with his tongue, drawing me into him and sucking my own tongue in his moist mouth. Our hands roamed restlessly over each other. I slipped my hand between our tightly pressed bodies and found his hard, erect cock.
Working my fingers around that thick shaft, I pumped it back and forth, bringing it closer and closer to my aching, needing pussy.
Dad’s hands massaged my tits, pulling and kneading my receptive nipples. Little pinches and tiny twists and suddenly, I was there. I didn’t know if I could wait any longer, I wanted that cock inside me now. I pushed my hips hard against him, hoping to transmit my desire.
And to make sure he had no doubts, I cried, “Fuck me Dad. Fuck me, please!”
With a swift, smooth movement, he lifted me up and held me against the tiled wall. Slowly, he lowered me down onto his throbbing, eager shaft. I was so wet with pussy juice and water that he slid into me without any trouble or needing any force. A perfect fit.
Together we groaned our lust. “Oh yes, oh God, yes.” Holding tight onto his shoulders, he rocked his hips and moved that thick rod back and forth inside me. I could feel our passion and desire growing and exploding. Faster and faster he pumped into me, slamming his cock deeper with every thrust.
I was unable to speak, unable to form any intelligible words. I groaned and whimpered, encouraging him simply with movement and sound.
He was fucking his little daughter so fast now, I could barely stand it. In and out, he seemed to slide like lightning. Like the pistons in a powerful machine, his shaft plunged into my stretched pussy lips, hitting my womb deep inside.
Grunting with pleasure, I sensed he was almost ready to cum. And so was I. I was desperate to release my juice over him and experience his hot sweet sperm shoot deep into me.
Slamming and screaming, we fucked faster and harder until finally, it was there. We came in a glorious explosion, panting and kissing each other. His cum spewed in loads into my pussy as my pussy walls spasmed and drew every last drop out of that incestuous cock.
“Oh Daddy, fuck Daddy, I love you.”
“My Beth, my darling, how much I love you too.”
Slowing down, weak and wobbly, he raised me off his dick and put me back onto the shower floor.
“Get out now, Beth. Get dried and dressed and make your old
Dad some breakfast. Then we need to talk.”
We parted with a final long, searching kiss and I did as he instructed.
Fifteen minutes later, he was seated at the breakfast table, playing with his scrambled eggs, listlessly dragging his fork around the plate. He smelled so fresh and clean. His blond hair looked darker, slicked back and still damp.
I watched him until I could bear it no longer.
“What is it Dad? What’s wrong? ”
“Beth, sweetheart, I had hoped to spare you this story but I feel
I have to tell it to you now, before things between us get worse. You need to know the truth.”
“What are you talking about Daddy? What truth?” I was starting to feel nervous and frightened. What on earth was going on?
He tenderly held my hand and led me into the lounge room. I curled up on our sofa and he relaxed into the reclining chair. Hesitating, fumbling, he began to speak.
“Beth, have you ever wondered why we don’t speak more about my family? About your mother, grandparents and cousins?”
“Not really Dad. I remember asking you about Mum once when I was about 7 but you looked so sad and distant when you said she had died, I figured it hurt you too much to speak about it. I can’t remember Mum, so I have never missed her or needed her. You have been everything to me.”
“Honey, your Mum has passed away, that’s true but it happened much later than you realise.”
“You mean she has been alive and you never told me? Never let me speak to her?” Indignant and angry, I was ready to fling myself on him and pound into his chest.
“Bethie, baby, let me start at the beginning and I hope I can do justice to the tale.
“My mother was only 15 when she fell pregnant with me. It was an accident – at that age it always is. But my father stood by her and they married. None of their parents was particularly pleased at the situation, however, they all pulled together and supported my parents, knowing how important it was to give this young couple the best of care.”
Daddy rose from his chair and came to sit next to me at this point. We held hands and softly stroked each other, close and at ease. I relaxed and listened attentively. He then continued his story.
So my mother gave birth when she was 16 and dad was only 17. Young, but so in love and totally devoted to each other. For many years, everything was perfect. Sure, they struggled, scrimped and saved but they were happy. They had a little family and a little apartment and parents who supported and loved them.
“When I was around 8 years old, things started to change. My mother became withdrawn and depressed. She seemed unable to cope with me, with life, with anything. She spiraled down and down. It was barely noticeable at first, however after 18 months everyone could see she wasn’t well. She saw numerous doctors, therapists of all types and God knows how much medication she was on.
Nothing seemed to help. The depression held her tighter and tighter in its grip. Our home changed. The shopping didn’t get done, dishes were left in the sink and everything felt dirty. My father did his best. Unfortunately, it wasn’t enough.
“He started spending more and more time at work.
Not knowing how to cope, how to help his sick wife. Day and night he was locked away in his office.
“I learned how to take care of myself as best as I could. I went to school, studied hard and tried my best around the house.
But I felt so neglected and unloved. It hurt when I tried to make physical, affectionate contact with my own mother and she wouldn’t respond. She just pushed me away.”
Tears were streaming down my cheeks. My poor, lonely father. How awful! He wiped my tears away with a caring hand and resumed his monologue.
“After about 3 years, things improved. It was a gradual process but eventually, my mother had returned to her old loving self and my father was suddenly around more. I was so happy although a little wary. And for a few years, it was great! Life was fantastic.
We played sport together, went on family holidays, and just enjoyed being with each other.
“And then, oh God Beth, it started again. I was about 17 and my mother started to slip away. Only this time, she didn’t even try the doctors or medication. She grabbed the bottle and spent most of her time tipsy, drunk or passed out. And again, Dad drifted off. During the day I am positive he worked harder than ever, but nights? Well, I have suspicions that he was no longer alone at night.
“My parents didn’t make it to my high school graduation. I was totally alone. That was why I was so determined to attend your graduation. It is one of the most important events in a young persons life and I was unwavering in my desire to be there for yours. Nothing was going to keep me from watching you cross that stage and accept your Diploma, Beth.”
When I heard this resolution, I turned and kissed my Daddy squarely on the lips, playing with his mouth and stroking his cheek with my hand. “Thank you for being there for me, Daddy. I appreciate it and love you for it.”
“You’re welcome, Beth. I wouldn’t have missed it for the world.
“I managed to find some money and with grants and loans, went off to college. I came home every holiday to spend time with my parents and over that four years, I could see the improvements my mother was making. That terrible depression was lifting and she was breaking away from her alcoholic habits. When I saw my parents together, they acted as if there were teenagers again. They were totally in love with life and devoted to each other. It was bizarre the way they slid from one extreme to the other.
“Then, when I visited them during my senior year, I received the shock of my life. My mother was pregnant again! Can you imagine? She was 38 years old and 6 months pregnant with her second child. And she was glowing. Absolutely radiant. And my father, boy, you’d think it was his first child. Had they forgotten about me completely?
“My next trip home from college was my last. I had graduated and moved back to town. I rented a little flat and managed to land a job with the local gym.
“By now, my mother had given birth to a little angel. Her daughter was the sweetest, most cherubic child you could ever imagine. The first time I saw her, I fell totally and hopelessly in love. This little girl smiled at me, as if she knew exactly who I was and I knew my life would never be the same.
“I dropped in on the family every opportunity I had. The little angel just grew sweeter, happier and more lively with each visit. How I adored her! But of course, it didn’t last.
“When I was about 24 years old and my precious sister was 2 years old, that ferocious depression came back with a vengeance. My mother spiraled down much faster than before and alcohol and prescription drugs kept her company. I couldn’t bear the thought of that sweet, tiny girl being neglected and feeling unloved at such a young age.
“I confronted my parents and told them what I was going to do. My father just looked defeated and turned away. My mother didn’t even seem to comprehend what I was saying and the action I was taking. In a manner of speaking, I kidnapped my little sister. I stole her away from that heartbreaking situation and drew her to me.
“I was resolute that no matter what it took, I would care for and shower this beautiful creature with as much love as humanly possible.”
Daddy paused and turned to stare at me. Comprehension was dawning slowly in my overwhelmed mind.
“Do you understand, Beth? You are not my real daughter, you are my sister!”
As the word sister rang over and over in my ears, the lounge room faded away and became black.