Bending over for Dad

The story of how my Dad and I started fucking when I was twelve.

When I was ten my parents got divorced.

To make a long and complicated story short; my mother had been having a long time affair, Dad found out, things got messy and petty, Dad won custody. My mother tried to be a better mom when she got to see me, but she couldn’t keep it up and as the months rolled on I saw her less and less.

That was fine. I always liked Dad more.

He taught me to play catch and how to use a computer. We went out and did family things together, my mother didn’t. Probably because she was fucking around.

Shortly after I turned eleven we moved. He had a new job. We had a new house. It was a new city and a new life.

That’s also when he started working out more. Like, a lot. I didn’t know it at the time, but that was his way relieving stress. I just thought he was trying to find someone new. Because I knew about sex. At least, as much as an eleven year old girl with dial up internet and no supervision can know. He was a newly single thirty three year old man, of course he’d be looking to hook up with someone young and hot.

It was about that time I started seeing myself sexually and I wanted so much to be a grown up. Pictures on the internet showed me young women sunbathing in the nude, so I started doing it too. When my Dad went to the gym I went to the backyard and stripped down. At first I wore a swimsuit, but as that summer rolled on I grew bolder.

For context; I, at the time, was just as developed as one would expect for an eleven year old girl. I was proud of my hair, long and blonde, but I hated my freckles. I thought they made me look like a kid. Now of course I miss them terribly. It’s a shame they faded over time.

Blonde. Freckled and blue eyed. Thin but lacking in the softness I would eventually gain through puberty. That was the Rachel my dad found laying naked in the backyard. He skipped the gym that day and caught me during a nap. I woke up when he came through the door to take out the garbage, but I pretended to still be asleep. I think I thought I wouldn’t get in trouble that way.

My heart was pounding so hard I couldn’t hear a thing. Maybe he said something, maybe he didn’t. Dad stood there staring at me for, I don’t know how long. I just laid there in a lawn chair, hat over my head, tanned young body on full display, and let him look. Eventually he went back inside. When I got dressed and went in he acted like everything was normal. He knew I wasn’t getting in trouble. That only encouraged me further.

I stopped getting dressed when I heard him come home. Instead I’d stretch and lounge and let him look at me if he came out. When that stopped being as thrilling as I wanted it to be I started touching myself while I was out there. Again, I found my heart pumping thrill. When my Dad saw me doing it the adrenaline rush was like having rocket fuel running through my veins.

He never talked to me about any of it. He just watched when he thought I wasn’t looking and walked by when he thought I was.

But time goes on. Summer ends. Days get cooler. The sun gets lower. Eventually I couldn’t lay naked outside anymore. Instead I started being nude around the house. At first it wasn’t very exciting, but then my Dad stopped wearing a shirt at home. Then pants. It was about that time I started seeing him sexually.

Other eleven year old girls were just starting to swoon over boy bands. I was finding myself staring at fit men in their mid thirties.

Obviously he eventually talked to me about my aversion to wearing clothes at home. I told him the truth; that it made me excited. He explained the dangers of a young girl running about naked and told me to make sure no one saw me doing it. He then asked me to come to him with any questions I had about adult things. And of course he had discovered I was looking at porn on the internet, I was still just a kid who thought she was far more clever than she really was and didn’t know how to clear her internet history.

That winter, after months of living a near nudist life at home, I caught him jacking off to a VHS tape. I think it was one of those Girls Gone Wild ones. I just stood by the couch and watched. When he noticed I was there he didn’t jump and hide or try to shoo me away, Dad just asked if I needed anything.

I sat next to him on the couch and said I wanted to watch. I didn’t look at college coeds flashing their tits to a camera (that’s something I would later experience myself), I instead stared at my Dad’s cock while he finished himself off. I’d never seen it before. While I was lounging around in the nude he never wore less than his boxers.

I can still remember that eruption, that massive load of spunk that covered his hand and made such a mess of everything. Seeing him cum for the first time set a fire in me.

After that Dad started walking around naked too. We weren’t nudists. It wasn’t a lifestyle we were pursuing. It was 100% sexual. I wanted to feel like an adult. He wanted something else.

He’d get hard seeing his eleven year old daughter stripping at the front door after getting home from school, I’d rub myself watching him jack off into the toilet.

Our growing sexual interest came with a lot of cuddles. Skinship, I’ve heard it called. Whether naked or not I always found my way into his lap. People knew I was a Daddy’s Girl, so it wasn’t too weird. Whenever he got hard he didn’t have to hide it, I just sat on his bulge and no one would know. That’s how I had my first orgasm. Naked in his lap, rubbing my cunt up and down his shaft.

Things developed when he found me at the computer watching a video. God, I don’t know how anyone got off to porn in those days, the resolution was something absurd. Anyway, he walked in on me teasing myself with the narrow end of a carrot. We didn’t even look at the computer, just each other. When Dad got off he had nowhere safe to cum and ended up hosing down my flat chest.

For Christmas my father gave his eleven year old daughter a small dildo. I fucked myself with it, slow and easy, right there by the Christmas tree. Then, with no money to my name and no way to buy him anything, I gave him a present. On December 25th, 199X, I sucked off my Dad for the first time.

I got the idea from the internet, obviously. I also had no idea what I was doing. It was probably the worst blowjob he’d ever had. But Dad coached me through it, gave me some tips, and when my jaw hurt he finished himself off on my face.

“Girls are always prettiest when they’re covered in cum.”

I’ll never forget him saying that.

A new year came around. Shortly thereafter I turned twelve. My chest was budding. My butt was starting to have an actual shape to it, barely. I felt more like a woman than a girl. I did grown-up things with my Dad. I knew it was wrong, which is why I kept it a secret. Which also made me feel more like a grown-up.

By the time I finished sixth grade my Dad and I were regularly pleasing each other. Hands and lips. He fingered me all the time and I grew to enjoy sucking him off. Making a grown man squirm and moan made me feel powerful. And whenever he came I made sure it would make me pretty.

Maybe that’s how I lost my freckles. Bleached away by years of facials.

That summer, a full year since I had started laying naked in the backyard, two years after the divorce, at the ripe old age of twelve, I had sex with my Dad.

We went on a roadtrip. It wasn’t supposed to be anything sexual, we did plenty of normal father daughter stuff you don’t care about, but it ended up that way. I had brought my Christmas gift and started using it in the back seat while my Dad drove down the highway. Not the smartest decision I ever made, distracting a driver like that, but I was a kid. What did I know.

My sun dress was pulled all the way up to my neck, my legs were parted and I was going to town on my little pussy. Dad couldn’t keep his eyes on the road and had to pull off down a service road. We drove for a bit before he went into the bush a little ways and told me to get out of the car.

I thought I was in for it. I had gone too far and was in for a world of trouble. Well, I was in for it.

Dad had me kneel on the back seat of the car, feet and ass sticking out into the sun. He flipped up my dress and started jerking off while looking at my bare body. I knew to wiggle my butt whenever he had me bend over like that. With pre-cum smeared across his cock he stuck it between my legs and humped. His flesh rubbing against mine. His slime and my wetness lubricating the act.

He was pretty into it. Or out of it, depending on how you want to count it. At some point he pulled too far back and slipped into me when he drove forward. We both stopped. It happened so easy, him just plunging into his little girl. Neither of us said anything. When I pushed back he pushed forward. It was slow. Careful. We both knew it was wrong, but we both wanted it. Fuck, I wanted his cock so bad.

My father filled me more than any carrot or small toy ever could. Then he FILLED me. It was probably the stupidest thing he’s ever done; blowing a load in his twelve year old daughter. But it felt so good. So hot. Between his cock and cum I imagined every part of my little body had been stuffed full.

We didn’t talk after that. Not until the sun was low and we were checking into a motel.

“One bed.” He’d told the clerk with a shrug. “It’s cheaper.”

That night he bought some condoms from a local pharmacy.

Face to face. Sitting in his lap. Me impaled on his erection. His fingers brushing my blonde hair away. We kissed on the lips for the first time. He just took me. Enveloped me. After all the things we’d done together we’d never made out. Not until that night.

The night I started fucking my Dad.

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