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“You’re not going out like that?”
It was a question, not a statement. At thirty-one, my daughter was too old for me to make any demands. Those days were long over. I couldn’t ground her and send her to her room, but the short skirt and precipitous cleavage brought out the old-school dad within.
Belligerent as I remembered her being when she was still subject to my rules, she looked at me and said, “I am.”
I was on the back foot by then. I knew I had no authority but still had to try. “That skirt’s a bit short,” I said.
Jemima nodded. “Yeah, dad, I know.”
Emotions swirled inside me. I was torn by what I saw as paternal responsibility to take of my daughter and the pride I felt because of her beauty. Plus, while I tried to deny it, there was also a prickle of something dark and clandestine, a nasty little snicker at the back of my mind.
“Sorry,” I said. “I’m just old-fashioned.”
Jemima’s expression softened. She lost the ferocious look as she sighed, slowly shaking her head. “And you’re my dad.”
I pulled a face. “Always,” I said.
Jemima walked towards me, all bare thighs and high heels. We were in the living room. It was her flat. I was staying for a few days. My eyes went to her legs when she sat down on the sofa next to me.
“I’m a grown-up,” she said, a hand on my thigh.
The furtive prickle turned to a thrill of something I recognised as desire when my daughter touched me. Of their own accord, my eyes went to her breasts, the rounded inner flanks drawing my focus. Then, in response to the sight of her tanned flesh, my cock thickened and grew.
“This is how I dress when I go out,” my Jemima continued.
“But you’re showing everything off,” I said, shocked by the need I heard in my tone.
“Maybe I like to show off,” my daughter informed me. “Maybe I like attention.”
It felt like the air between us crackled and fizzed while I gawked at Jemima. But you’re gorgeous,” I said, sighing it out. “Surely you don’t have to put it all out there like this?”
Jemima smiled, the expression something close to pity as she looked at my face. “You’re sweet,” she said, “but I’m a grown woman.”
My daughter paused and took her hand away from my leg.
“I have appetites, daddy,” Jemima went on, eyes on the floor. “I know you probably don’t want to hear it, but I have certain likes when it comes to sex.”
Sensations curdled in the pit of my stomach when I heard her say it and, both thrilled and disgusted, I asked, “You do?”
My daughter stared at me; her gaze intense. “You don’t want to know,” she breathed, after a pause.
I didn’t mean to, but my focus went to the deep crease between her breasts.
Jemima shifted her rump against the sofa before she murmured, “What are you looking at, dad?”
The heat rose in my face. I gulped, my attention going up to Jemima’s face. “Nothing,” I said, knowing she wouldn’t believe me.
A chasm of yearning yawned within me when my daughter sighed and whispered, “Yes you were. You were looking at my tits.”
Humiliation descended. “God, no, I wasn’t, Jemima,” I croaked.
My daughter laughed, the sound somewhere between amusement and derision. “Come of it,” she said, “I know when a bloke’s looking at my boobs.”
I floundered, unsure of what I was feeling. “I wasn’t looking at you like that,” I said. “I was just looking.”
Then, in a pivotal, life-changing moment, my daughter paused for a second or two, going on to say, “You can look if you want to. I told you. I like attention.”
Appalled, I digested what she’d just said, gasping out, “But I’m your father, Jemima.”
“And you’re a man.”
She was moving as, appalled, I said, “What do you mean by that?”
“I don’t mind you looking,” my daughter said on a sigh. “In fact,” she added, thrusting her frontage at me, “you can touch if you want to.”
My world slipped away as I stared at my daughter. It was an unbelievable time. Surreal. I was sure I’d misheard what she’d said. It couldn’t be real.
“God, please don’t reject me,” my daughter said through a whisper. Her eyes were wide, lips apart, fear in her eyes. “I feel so stupid.”
Something burst inside me and I felt a sudden and savage rush of lust for the beautiful woman with the lush, ripe curves.
“Touch you?” I breathed.
I saw how unsure she was as Jemima nodded and stammered, “If … If you want to.”
My hands went to her breasts, their weight and spongy-firm texture a shock.
“I want you to kiss me,” my daughter said through a groan.
My cock swelled to full tumescence when I hear it come from her mouth.
In a crazy, impossible action, I grabbed at my daughter, pulling her in, my mouth over hers. She groaned and wriggled until she could get a leg over my thighs. After that, as we snuffled and gasped, tongues swirling, canlı bahis we kissed, with Jemima managing to get her skirt up past her hips, her thighs straddling mine.
As the kiss went on, the passion rising between us, I mauled at Jemima’s breasts.
“Get them out,” she moaned as she levered upright. “Here, I don’t care about the fucking blouse. Rip it off me. Just help me get out of my clothes.” As she gasped out the words, my daughter yanked at the blouse. The buttons popped free, one flicking against my cheek as Jemima let out a snarl, the sound all about her arousal.
“Jem, what are we-?”
“Don’t!” my daughter barked, cutting me off. “Not a fucking word about who we are or what we’re doing.”
“But-” I started, with Jemima shutting me up by pressing her mouth over mine.
The feelings exploded inside me as I let go of any resistance. I had a beautiful woman squirming around on my lap. Her tongue was in my mouth, my hands were full of her bra and her breasts. The heat was on me and, as unbelievable as it might sound, the fact she was my own daughter only made it more exciting to me.
“I want you suck my tits,” my daughter breathed when the kiss broke. “This has all been for you,” Jemima went on. “I was never going out tonight,” she gasped, hands going behind her back.
My daughter unclasped her bra and closed her eyes when she revealed her breasts to my gaze.
“You don’t have a fucking clue,” she was saying, boobs swinging free. “No idea at all.”
Then we were kissing again, my brain fogged by desire and confusion.
My hands went from my daughter’s breasts down to her buttocks. I kneaded those globes, a hand sliding into her insubstantial thong, my fingers finding the heat of her pussy.
“Rip it off,” Jemima said, moaning it out. “God, dad, I want you to fuck me. I’m so fucking ready. Please, rip my knickers off.”
Goaded into recklessness, wild with the need overwhelming any coherent thoughts, despite that this was my own daughter, I yanked at the fragile scrap and heard it rend. By then Jemima was squirming and groaning, two of my fingers inside her body as we kissed. She pressed her frontage against me, boobs squashing between us, both of us moaning our base desires.
“Please,” Jemima gasped when she rolled off my lap. “Get it out. Take those fucking trousers off. I want to do it.”
It percolated through when I saw my daughter all but nude. The only clothing Jemima had left on was the inappropriate skirt, now ruched around her waist while she lay on the sofa, her lithe, tanned body exposed to my stare. “We shouldn’t,” I said, shocked to see her smooth, hairless vulva.
“I told you not to talk like that,” my daughter snarled. Fire shone in her eyes as she moved upright, thighs closing together. “I’ve been going mental these last few weeks,” she said, holding my gaze. “It’s been driving me crazy. I’m a very active woman, dad. I need a lot of sex. Since you’ve been in the flat, I’ve been limited. Masturbation doesn’t do it for me. It isn’t enough.”
“But you’re my daughter,” I managed to say.
Jemima’s expression turned vulpine as she smirked at me. “Yeah,” she said through that sly grin. “I’ve been thinking about that a lot, too. I’ve wanted to go to you in the middle of the night, dad. I’ve laid in bed and rubbed myself silly thinking about how it’d be to climb into bed with you.”
I felt the clutch of some wild carnal desire down at my core. Lust ballooned. Something to do with the look on her face and the way Jemima described it.
“I can’t go without any more,” my daughter was saying, her fingers at my belt. “I don’t give a shit about right and wrong. I couldn’t give a fuck for what anyone would think. You’re fit and good-looking. I love you. All I want is to do this with you. I’ve thought about it, dad. I’ve done all that internal wrangling shit. I’m ready for this.”
“God, Jemima,” I groaned. “Are you sure? You know what you’re saying?”
My daughter loosened the belt, pausing as she stared into my face. “I’ll show you,” she sighed. “I’ll suck your cock.”
A moment later it was all frenzied activity as I stood up, Jemima’s fingers popping the trouser button.
“Oh my God,” my daughter yipped when my clothing slipped to my knees and my erection sprang forth. “You’re beautiful, dad. That’s a lovely thick cock.”
I groaned when Jemima’s fingers curled around my girth. I gasped as she stroked the length, another low groan bubbling up when my daughter’s lips stretched over the dome.
That’s when I lost any trace of reluctance. As I gazed in awe at Jemima’s familiar features distorted because of the mouthful she had of her own father’s erection, morality crumbled, and I tipped headlong into the abyss of sin with my daughter.
Jemima sucked my cock with an expert technique. My daughter licked and lapped, slurping and slobbering bahis siteleri at the shaft and dome, sucking her cheeks concave, her hand working my cock down at the root while her tongue performed magic.
“God, Jemima,” I said through a groan. “Where did you learn…?”
My daughter laughed, her hand stroking my dick as she grinned into my face. “Oh, daddy,” she purred, winking at me. “You don’t really want to know, do you?”
She broke the eye-contact and went back to sucking my cock.
It was an unbelievable time. Surreal. Magic. Something I’d never imagined would happen beyond a man’s darkest fantasies. But there she was, my beautiful, grown-up daughter with her face distorted by her own father’s penis. I stared at her face for a few seconds, her lips stretched over my girth before my focus went down to her breasts.
“You’ve got a gorgeous body, Jemima,” I groaned.
“Don’t come,” Jemima warned.
“I’m close,” I admitted.
“Then calm down. I don’t want this ruined. Not before we’ve done it, dad.”
The excitement was on me and, caught up with lust, desire hot within, it wouldn’t take much to have my cum on the rise.
“I don’t think I can calm down.”
“Then lick me,” Jemima said.
She released my dick and moved around so she was on the sofa. My daughter lay back, spreading her thighs before she splayed her labia with the tips of her fingers. In a lewd display, Jemima flaunted her sex, eyes flashing mischief when she grinned at me.
“Lick it,” my daughter commanded. “My cunt, daddy,” she breathed, a finger sliding over her clit.
It was a ridiculous response considering what we’d said and done so far, but to hear my daughter use that word still had the power to shock me.
I took a moment to imprint the image on my memory. It’s not something I’ll ever forget: a beautiful girl in her prime, her body lithe and tanned as she fingered her bean and looked at me with an expression of hot-eyed desire. In that moment, nothing else mattered. Whatever happened in the future would be worth that sight. It would be incest with my own daughter. Maybe we’d both feel the guilt and shame and remorse. Perhaps we’d be sorry. But, regardless of the outcome, noting would deflect me from tasting my daughter’s essence straight from the source.
I caught Jemima’s eyes and asked, “Is this what you want, my beautiful baby?”
“Oh, dad,” she gasped when my tongue found her core.
I went at Jemima using all the experience I’d garnered from every other woman I’d known. I used my fingers, my tongue, and my lips to give my daughter pleasure. I sucked at her clit, licking her where she groaned out she liked it the best. Using expertise and instinct, plus guidance from her, I worked my daughter to a climax, her body juddering as the spasms took hold.
The moment of penetration came while my daughter was still sucking in air. She was looking at me, eyes wide like she was frightened.
“God, dad,” Jemima gasped, gaze locked on my cock. “You’re going to put it in,” she went on, attention flicking to my face. With disbelief in her tone, Jemima looked back down to where I was poised to push my cock into her body, once again lifting her focus to my eyes. “Is it real? Are you going to do it?”
Then, after using her hands to push herself halfway upright, Jemima said the words indelibly inked into my head. She gulped, swallowing hard as she put her chin on her chest and spread her thighs further, sobbing her need as she hooked her fingers at the nape of my neck. “I want you to fuck me,” she sighed.
I shuffled in close, knees on the sofa while my daughter offered herself. I held my cock and aimed it at her body, both of us panting and moaning, the moment huge in my mind.
Jemima squeaked when my dick nudged at her pussy. “You’re my father,” she said, awe in her voice.
I paused, a single hip-thrust from the actual sin. “Jemima,” I said to bring her focus up to me. “You sure?”
“Dad, please, just put it in. ‘m so fucking ready. I’ll die if you don’t.”
To back up her statement, my daughter fingered he clit, shunting her pelvis in an attempt to take me into her body.
“Baby,” I breathed, shocked by the molten embrace as I slid into my daughter.
“Fuck me. Just fuck me,” Jemima moaned as she started to move.
Then we went to it. I sank into the girl up to my balls, the pair of us gasping. After a pause I eased it back out, immediately reversing the trend so I was inside her again. A moment later, the rutting began. We were fucking, no condom or morals between us.
We grabbed at each other. I had my hands full of my daughter’s flesh. I mauled at her breasts and cupped her buttocks in both palms so I could fuck deep into her body. We kissed, slowing the tempo by tacit agreement. As we kissed, we loved. There was more emotion in our coupling as feelings spilled forth.
I’ll bahis şirketleri never forget the way my daughter looked at me, all of my cock inside her body as she moaned out, “I love you. Come inside me, dad. You could put a baby in there.”
That glazed-eyed look and those terrible words brought on the rage. Not anger, not that kind of rage, the rush of emotion was all about my need to fuck into my daughter. It was an awful thing to spur me on, but the idea, the thought of fucking a baby into her got me worked up and hot.
“Jemima,” I growled, going up onto straight arms.
The way we were at the time, she was on her back, wedged into the corner of the sofa, legs wide, knees up to her shoulders while, vulnerable to my physical size and strength, I used her pussy like I wanted to tear her apart.
We fucked, with me pounding away, the suggestion I give my own daughter my sperm causing the surge.
“Dad, you’re coming!” Jemima yipped, like it was any surprise. “God, yes, do it inside me,” she added, hauling herself up to kiss my mouth.
The cum burst from me, the goo flooding my daughter’s pussy, the hot stuff bathing her cervix. I grunted and gasped, mumbling nonsense about getting her pregnant, about how much I loved her.
Then, after several bursts of ejaculate into Jemima, I groaned and fell loose, my dick still inside her.
We lay that way for at least a minute, both panting for breath, bodies moulded together, my weight on my daughter.
“Fuck, dad, get off me, you lump,” Jemima said, pushing at me. “God, there’s spunk all over,” she added, cupping a hand between her legs as she got up.
“Jem, I’m sorry,” I said. The guilt had rushed in to fill the void left behind when I emptied my lust into my daughter.
She rounded on me, a hand still between her legs as she snarled, “Don’t fucking start with that crap. Don’t get all weird now.”
“But-” I said.
“No! Don’t you dare.” Jemima jabbed a forefinger at me. “I wanted that, dad. I’m a grown woman. Don’t start on about how we shouldn’t have done it. Thing is, we did. And I’m not gonna regret it. For me,” my daughter continued, calming a little, “it was something beautiful, dad. I’m single and so are you. We haven’t cheated on anyone. Nobody’s hurt. So what if you’re my father? I can’t think of any other man I’d trust more.”
Jemima shrugged and asked me to pass her the blouse. I did it and watched as she used the garment to staunch the rush of my cum seeping from her pussy.
My daughter sat down next to me. She took my hand. “The thing is, dad, I’m an addict for cock. Yeah, I know, too much information, but let me get this out – okay?”
Jemima paused, eyes moving over my face.
Then she said, “I like sex way more than is good for me. That means I make some bad choices. I’m rubbish choosing men.” She gave a wry chuckle and shook her head. “You know about that,” she said, squeezing my hand. “Anyway, since you’ve been staying here, I’ve been thinking a lot. Fantasising, really. I got it into my head that you’d be the right kind of bloke for me. Then I got horny because I’m always close to the boil. I’ve been thinking about sex with you for quite a while,” Jemima admitted with an embarrassed tone and expression. “I’ve been parading around in hardly anything on to tease you, dad. Then, tonight, this was for you. I wanted this to happen. Then, when you made a fuss about the clothes…”
My daughter paused again, chuckling at some inner joke before she looked into my face.
“So, don’t you go feeling guilty,” Jemima said on a whisper. “Don’t feel bad. I know what you’re like and it’s not your fault. I loved it with you. It was so sexy but I got that you loved me when we were doing it.”
“God, Jemima,” I sighed. “You were so lovely. When I looked at you…”
My daughter rose to her feet.
“I need to pee, dad,” she said, holding the blouse against her sex. “We’ll talk when I get back. But I’ll tell you now I want us to do it again.”
I watched my daughter leave the room, the feminine shape of her body and the swing to her hips calling to me on a visceral level which brought on a resurgent burst of desire.
“Fuck,” I gasped, wondering how it would be when she returned.
A year later and I was with my daughter on an island in Thailand.
We were at a wedding ceremony being performed by Buddhist monks. It wasn’t legally binding. It meant nothing in law back at home but was just a symbol of the love between me and my daughter.
It was our wedding.
We were lovers. Had been since the night I’d chastised her for wearing the inappropriate skirt.
Nobody on the island knows the true relationship between the middle-aged man and the beautiful woman in her early thirties.
After being sprinkled with water by the monks, during the ride in the electric golf-cart back to the resort where the buffet and disco were booked, I looked at my wife.
“I love you, Jemima,” I said.
She grinned and nodded, eyes shining with joy. “I love you, dad,” my daughter replied.
Thanks for reading.
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