Chasing Dad

‘Oh, I see. So it was just me imagining that you were staring at me all evening, was it? And you didn’t spend two minutes under the table at the restaurant looking up my dress. And when I tumbled over, that wasn’t your hand grabbing hold of my arse. And if I start to hike this dress up right now, you won’t be at all interested, right?’

And as I said that, I began to raise the hem higher and higher up my thighs. I could see Dad sneaking looks at my legs out of the corner of his eyes. When the hemline was so high that it threatened to expose my pussy, I crossed my legs towards him to make the offer even more difficult to refuse. When he couldn’t avert his gaze any longer, and turned his head to take long, appreciative looks at my bare thighs in between watching the road, I taunted him again about his hypocrisy.

But I’d gone too far. I saw Dad’s left hand leave the steering wheel and come towards the underside of my face, but I never expected that he would strike me. When the back of his hand shuddered against my right cheek, I was sent crashing into the side window. As the pain hit me, tears began to well up in my eyes. Still looking out of the side window and comforting my face with my hand, I jumped at the touch of something on my leg. I turned around to see Dad’s left hand was on my knee. As he slowly began to caress my legs right up to the hemline of my dress, he spoke.

‘Of course you are right, Donna. Since that night at the restaurant I’ve not been able to get your body out of my mind. I should have taken you up on your offer at the time.’

I could hardly believe the sight I was seeing. But this was my own Dad’s hand running up and down my legs. He went on:

‘But that’s in the past. What’s important now is that I can have you today. We’ll be at your place in five minutes. When we get there, I want you to walk in quickly and lock the front door behind us. Then we’ll go up to your room for an hour or so.’

He said it so matter-of-factly, like fucking your daughter was a normal, regular occurrence. My own feelings since that disastrous night had changed during the intervening months. I loathed how he was touching me; it was making my skin crawl. I decided that as soon as Dad pulled up at my place I’d make a run for it to a neighbour’s house for safety until he’d gone. Then I didn’t ever want to see him again. How could I ever have even considered letting him near me. I cursed that night.

When we drove into my street, Dad ordered me to get my house keys out ready; he said he was eager to taste his daughter’s body. I took them out of my purse and dangled them in front of him. This was partly to show that I’d complied with his instructions, and that I didn’t want him to hit me again, but mostly because it created a diversion which allowed me to put my left hand onto the door release without him noticing. Just as I was planning to make a run for it, though, Dad must have guessed my intentions and drove the car into the drive so that my door was only a couple of inches away from the wall. It meant that I had to get out of his side. He got out of the car quickly, telling me to slide over and follow. There was no way to do that in any ladylike manner, and with my dress riding so high already, Dad got a pretty good look at what I had to offer. As I got into the driver’s seat and swung a leg out of the car, he took a grip on my right upper arm that nearly cut off my circulation. When I complained about the pain, Dad simply replied that he didn’t want me running away, and that he’d let me go when we were in the bedroom. He pulled me roughly to my feet, slammed the car door shut, and frog-marched me towards the front door of my house in such a hurry that it was difficult for me to keep up in the heels that I was wearing. As I opened the door, he pushed me through into the hall, turned to lock the door securely and dragged me up the stairs. I couldn’t believe that I was about to be raped by my own father.

Dad threw me into my bedroom and closed the door behind him. I begged and pleaded with him to stop now. We had both made a mistake, so this made us even. We could forget about it and say nothing ever again. Dad ignored my pleas and said that if I ever told anyone about this, then nasty things would happen to Josh and me.

Standing a couple of feet away from me, at the foot of my bed, Dad told me to take off my dress. He was almost visibly salivating as I took hold of the hemline and pulled it up. By the time that my breasts came into his view, the dress was over my eyes, but I heard his gasp of approval. I threw the dress to the floor and, except for my ankle-strap high heeled sandals, stood naked before my father. He walked up close to me, his eyes darting between my shaved pussy and my boobs. That night at the restaurant I had wanted this to happen, but now I was sickened by the thought of his fat, old hands and eyes roaming over me.

Very slowly, as if wanting to freeze the moment in time, Dad’s right hand left his side and approached my naked waist. At that first touch we both let out loud gasps; mine of disgust and his of desire. Like watching an accident in motion, sickened and yet unable to stop looking, I felt my eyes glued to his hand as it brushed gently over my flat belly, moved down to my hips and up again to my breasts. His hand cupped my swelling melons softly at first. But as the look of lust on Dad’s face visibly grew, his touch became rougher. As he closed his thumb and forefinger around my hardened nipples and squeezed, the look of pain displayed on my face only served to increase the pressure he applied. It hurt so much that as he pulled downwards on them, I felt my whole body turning around, just as he wanted.

With my back to him, I sensed Dad move up close to me. He took hold of my arms very gently and pulled me towards him. Out of the corner of my right eye I saw him lower his face to the ridge of my shoulder. I turned my head the other way, not wanting to see him as his tongue licked my soft skin. Soon his lips were brushing along my slim neck and around my ears. I hate to say it, but it was making me feel a little aroused. As Dad’s tongue moved slowly down my spine and flicked at the top of my butt crack, my pleasure grew to the point where I had to let out a soft moan. Gyrating against the pressure of his mouth made me feel cheap and dirty, but I couldn’t help it.

After a few minutes of this, Dad knew that I wasn’t going to give him any more trouble. He brought his face up to my left ear and very quietly asked me if I was ready for it. My shame now almost entirely gone, I turned to look at him and coyly nodded. He took a few steps back from me and told me to put the palms of my hands on the front of my thighs. Having done so, Dad then ordered me to stand with my legs slightly apart. Then he said I was to move my hands slowly down my legs, keeping them straight and bending from the waist. As my hands passed over my knees and down my shins, Dad told me to take hold of the sandal straps that were around my ankles and to stay like that.

From my upside-down view, I saw him walking towards me. All I could see were the bottom of his trousers and his shoes. I heard the sound of a belt being undone followed by the release of a zipper. Two seconds later, Dad’s trousers were around his ankles, followed swiftly by his underpants. Shortly after this, I felt his left hand on my arse cheeks forcing them apart. Then I sensed the wet end of his knob sliding over my behind. He moved it around like this for a minute or so, until I felt it tracing a deliberate path towards my pussy. I gasped as his helmet brushed against my swollen flaps. He teased me for a few seconds as my clit grew hard with anticipation. Then, with a slight forward movement, I felt his knob force its way into my vagina. Dad remarked that someone as wet as I was must be dying for it. Like the slut that I was, I simply begged him to give me all of it. As Dad reamed his full length into my tight crack, I let out a cry of ecstasy. Soon both of his hands were holding the sides of my hips as he rocked me to- and-fro along his fuckrod. His pace was medium but his strokes were full. In fact he had remarkable control as he seemed to just stop coming out of me every time. After a couple of minutes I was crying out god’s name and begging Dad to keep it just the way he was, because I knew that I would be climbing the walls in just another dozen or so strokes.

As the waves of orgasm that had swarmed through my body began to subside, Dad slipped his rod out of me and pushed me onto the bed, face up. His throbbing cock stood out like a barber’s pole. I couldn’t take my eyes off it as he kneeled in between my legs. I spread myself to accommodate his large body. As Dad fell on top of me, I felt his fat belly crushing me, forcing the air out of my lungs. As I tried to catch my breath, he inserted his cock deep inside me again, causing me to breathe even more deeply. I couldn’t see anything passed his belly, but I could feel his meat screwing me to the bed. He was pumping quicker now that he was lying down, and my second orgasm took less time than the first as a result. As my moans, groans, yells and screams became louder, I could see by his contorted face that Dad was close to dropping his load into me. When he raised his vast bulk on extended arms, for the first time I could look up and see his glistening hard cock slamming in and out of my tight little love box. There was just enough room between our bodies for me to slide a hand between his legs and cup his big hairy balls. My gentle squeezing soon had Dad shouting that he was coming. He was breathing so hard that I feared he would collapse on me. But with a monumental final thrust that nearly tore out my insides, his face screwed up like a gargoyle’s, Dad’s semen flooded into my womb. For nearly a full minute the goo must have drained from him. I pressed his bollocks so tight that every drop must have been released. As it did so, Dad slumped right over me, pinning me down to the bed, helpless yet again.

It’s difficult enough at the best of times walking in four-inch heels. But when you’ve just had the living daylights shagged out of you, and your legs are like jelly, the task is almost impossible. So I leaned on the dresser as Dad pulled up his pants, not daring to totter towards him. Neither one of us had said a word for nearly ten minutes. Eventually it was Dad who broke the silence. He told me that Mike was obviously a substitute father figure who was no longer necessary. Dad said that he would be providing me with all my wants from now on. As he opened the door to leave, his last words were that I should get rid of him, or else. I knew what the else was. I was afraid of what he might do to Josh or me if I disobeyed him. Once again, I just nodded coyly.