Dad Deserves the Very Bestbylibidinal©
My father and mother had finally gotten divorced. It had been a really rocky marriage for many years now, and their separation was long overdue. At least that's what my sister and I felt. But mom and dad, despite the vast gulf between them, figured they'd invested twenty years in their marriage and were reluctant to admit failure. I could understand that, but, still, the constant misery they'd been putting each other through for years made it very clear to me and Peg that mom and dad just weren't meant for each other anymore. And probably never were in the first place.
Though I'd been close to my mom when I was young, as I became older a gulf began to develop between us. She couldn't stand watching me grow up and become a woman. As long as I was her little baby girl, a girl she could both coddle and control, everything was okay. But once I entered adolescence, showing independence, maturing and developing my sexuality, my mother, for some reason, just couldn't stand it. And the same went for my sister, who was a year younger than me. Though Peg, watching me go through all that warfare with mom, was better prepared to just step back and avoid mom's irrational outbursts and rampages.
My relationship with my father was very different, however. Peg and I had always been daddy's little girls, and that never stopped. He pampered us when we were children and encouraged us to express ourselves and develop in our own ways as we matured. He loved watching us turn into adolescents, and then into young women, proud to see his girls blossom and mature.
And so in recent years, while my mom and I had finally resolved some of our very real conflicts, I still couldn't help take my dad's side in his ongoing battle with mom. He tried to be a good husband, but she just wouldn't let him. And I always sensed that while dad was a very warm, very physical and, probably, very sexual man, mom was something of a cold fish. Her own mom was like that and I think she just inherited the trait. She had empathy for the poor and the oppressed, but found it hard to be tender or comforting to those close to her. It seemed like a chore she would only do reluctantly for mom to caress me and my sister when we needed that, needed a mother's comfort. While dad was always there for us, soothing us when we were upset, wrapping a protective arm around us when we yearned for that.
And now, finally, they had split. Dad had moved out of their house a couple of weeks ago and was staying in a hotel. But that was getting expensive, I knew, and I was sure it was lonely. He had a bid out on a condo he was seeking to purchase, but it would be at least a month or two before that would become available. So I suggested to dad that he stay with me. I had a two-bedroom apartment and my roommate had moved out recently to take a job up in Alaska. I told dad he could move in with me until he got settled. He asked me if I was sure I wanted to do this, that it might be uncomfortable having one's father in the next bedroom, how would guys I dated feel about that? Wouldn't it constrain me? But I told him, no. I loved my dad and I wanted to be there for him in this, his time of need.
"Me and Peg were always curious, dad, but we never thought we could ask you about it, you know how that subject can be," I probed. "But mom and you? You two didn't have much of a sex life, did you?"
My sister and I had, in fact, long been intensely curious about this. Mom had seemed like a cold fish to us, but you never know what happens behind closed doors. Cold fishes can sometimes really heat up. Though we doubted it in mom's case. There was just something so reserved about her. And we never heard noises or anything coming from their bedroom, even when we were little and they were young. Hell, at forty dad still seemed young to me. That's another thing, all these years he's had this youthful aura about him while mom acted like she hated her youthfulness, was wasting it. She was a real beauty when she was young, and she still had her looks, but it's like she was bitter about her lost youth, like she felt she had wasted it on dad.
"To be frank, honey, no," dad said. "I mean you know how gorgeous your mother is, how she was a beauty queen when I first met her. I guess I was just blinded by all that."
My mom, I'll admit, has always been a real looker, and when she and dad met she had just been selected as a runner-up in a statewide beauty contest. Dad told me that, like a lot of young guys, he only paid attention to looks then. And so they met at eighteen, and at nineteen were married, mom already pregnant with me. Mom was a real peach, everyone said so, and guys flocked around her in droves. So dad felt lucky, he said, when he won her over. He figured he had won himself quite a prize.
But over the years that prize had begun to seem more like a booby prize as mom's true nature was revealed.
"So you didn't do it too much, huh?" I probed further, feeling remarkably comfortable for some reason as I began to talk to dad about his sex life with my mom.
"No, not too much, even when we were younger," he admitted.
"Mom just wasn't into it?"
"I'm afraid not."
I wasn't surprised to hear this and, for some reason, it actually made me happy. I was sort of glad to learn that my dad had never really found sexual satisfaction with his wife, my mother. Maybe that was selfish of me but, still, it made me feel good.
"So did you go out on her much, dad? Did you have affairs?" I asked boldly as he squirmed a little in his chair.
"Some," he admitted. "Yeah, I did."
"Did mom know? Did she ever find out?"
"She found out a couple of times, and we had some real battles over that before she sort of came to accept it. But I had to get love somewhere, honey."
"Yeah dad, I know you did," I said sympathetically. "Because I bet you've always been a real sexy guy. And horny too."
There! I said it! I got it out of my system. I'd long thought this about my father, that he was a really sexual animal, and that all that carnality was wasted on my mother. I couldn't believe mom didn't respond to dad's vividly alluring masculinity, his sheer, raw sexiness. Even my girlfriends used to say to me how they thought my dad was a real stud. They said my mom was gorgeous and all, but they'd never mention anything about her seeming sexy. Because she wasn't.
Dad smiled at me now. It's like he actually got a kick having me ask him whether he was a horny dude.
"Yeah, sweetheart, that's one thing I have to admit," he said. "I've always had a hell of libido. I guess you can say I'm 'horny'."
Just hearing him say that thrilled me. Your own father, whom you adore, admitting how he's got a potent libido! And now that he was separated from mom and on his own, I figured he was hornier than ever!
"So what kind of women did you mess around with? Did I ever meet any of them?" I quizzed further.
Now dad filled me in, happy to be getting some of this off his chest. One of these women he mentioned I knew real well because she happened to be our next door neighbor. I used to play with her kids when I was young. Like dad, she was unhappily married and I guess they had found each other in their time of need. He told me how he'd sneak over there, just twenty feet from our own house, when Shirley's husband was at work or out of town.
"Did mom ever find out about Shirley?"
"No, that's one she never knew nothing about."
It's a good thing too, because mom still lived next door to Shirley and her husband!
Suddenly I noticed what time it was.
"Oh shit, dad, I've got to get ready!" I told him. I had a date that night and didn't realize how late it was. So I reluctantly excused myself -- by this time it was hard to tear myself away from dad and his revelations. Hearing them seemed more exciting than going out with Trent. Though all this talk with dad had made me start feeling real horny, and maybe Trent would take care of that. He was an okay fuck when he wanted to be.
I reminded dad I had a date that night, promising to pick up where we left off tomorrow, continuing our conversation about him and my mom and their sex life, and the state of dad's libido.
"Have a good time, hon," he waved as I left, the sweetest of smiles lighting up his handsome face.
Many hours later, after a very disappointing evening with Trent, I returned home, letting myself in very quietly so as not to disturb dad, who was probably already asleep. But then I noticed there was a thin stream of light peeking through his door, which had been left slightly ajar. It seemed dad was in fact still up, and I wondered what he was doing. So I tip-toed over quietly, thinking he may have fallen asleep with the lights on. But when I looked in his room, through the crack in the door, I could see my father was very much awake, and not only awake, but keeping very busy.
Because there he was in bed, looking down at some magazine, his fist wrapped around his very erect cock, masturbating! I could hardly believe what I was witnessing -- I had walked in on my own father jerking off to some girlie magazine!
I stood there silently, watching. I'd always thought my father was real cute and sexy, and had to admit to myself guiltily that I sometimes thought of him as a sex object. And tonight, having talked to him about sex and how he hadn't gotten what he needed from mom, I felt myself becoming aroused by dad. He was staying with me, in the adjoining bedroom and just the thought of that now made my head spin. Going out on my date with Trent all I could think about was dad and the conversation we were having before I split. I began to feel really turned on. And I realized it wasn't Trent who was turning me on, but thoughts of my dad! Trent even mentioned that I seemed to be acting especially hot tonight. What he couldn't know was that it wasn't him who was making me hot, but thoughts of my own father!
And now, after a disappointing date, here I was, looking at my naked father, furiously masturbating!
Naturally the first thing I noticed was his cock. It was big and it was beautiful! I hadn't remembered ever seeing my dad's penis before, soft or erect. And now here it was all stiff and swollen, his fingers wrapped around it as he stroked it slowly, gazing at his magazine. I could feel my pussy instantly cream as I stared at the incredible sight of dad playing with himself like this. How I would have liked to slide a hand under my skirt, under the elastic of my panties and start playing with myself as I kept watching him! But I feared that I'd make noise and be noticed. And I didn't know if I wanted that; it would probably put an abrupt stop to this intensely erotic sideshow.
Dad took his time stroking it and after awhile I just couldn't stand it any more and finally brought a hand down between my legs. I must've been rubbing it a little too hard or maybe dad heard my panting, because suddenly he looked up, wondering whether he had heard something. Instantly I had to think what to do. Should I just pull back silently, tip-toeing back to my own bedroom and leaving dad to his own devices? Or should I do what I was more and more feeling like doing, though I knew how outrageous that would be. Should I reveal myself to dad and let him know I'd been watching him?
And that's what I decided to do, opening the door all the way, letting him see me standing there.
"Why look at you, dad, enjoying yourself," I said matter-of-factly as he gazed up at me, frozen in shock to see me there. Now I walked into the room nonchalantly as my father tossed the magazine aside and pulled his hand away from his penis.
"Check it out! You've got a big one," I said, pointing out the obvious. "I guess mom just didn't know how lucky she was."
"She didn't view that as luck. The bigger it was, the more she had to endure was the way she looked at it," he said bitterly.
"Well me, dad, I just love enduring a nice, big one," I said, amazed at my boldness.
"What are you doing home anyway, baby?" he asked, his cock now softening, the stiffness leaving his penis still big and meaty, but soft now. Which, of course, I regretted. I had told dad I'd probably be spending the night with Trent.
"Oh, my date was really shitty," I explained. "We went back to Trent's place and I was feeling real horny and stuff -- partly it was the way you and me had been talking about sex before I left -- but Trent had drunk so much beer he couldn't even get it up. So I split."
My dad looked up at me amazed, and I was amazed too, telling him how disappointed I was that I couldn't get fucked that night.
Now that he had fully taken in that I was standing in front of him like this, having watched him masturbate, he started to squirm.
"I feel so embarrassed, honey," he said, a pained look on his face. "You coming home and seeing me like this."
"Don't dad, don't feel embarrassed. In fact, you just put your hand right back where it was, you hear me?" I said, grabbing hold of his wrist and bringing his own hand down to his cock again, stunned that I was actually doing that. And the way he gazed into my eyes, I'd say dad was pretty stunned himself.
"Go ahead dad, keep stroking it. You can do it in front of me. I loved watching you do that." I said, picking up the magazine he'd been looking at. It was opened to a spread shot of a big, busty blonde holding her legs wide open to expose the glossy pink slit of her shaved cunt.
"Is this how you like your pussies, dad, shaved?" I asked.
"No, not especially," he said.
"I sure don't shave mine," I said, all inhibitions gone now. "In fact I got myself quite a bush down there, between my legs."
This was the moment of truth. How far was I going to go?
"Want to see it, dad?"
"Bu-- but-- " he stammered.
"But you're my daughter, Wendy," he said, protesting lamely. What I noticed, however, was that his cock, which had shriveled and gotten small and soft, was now quickly swelling and stiffening again as he began to stroke it. That told me what I needed to know.
"Look at you, dad. You're obviously pretty horny. I come home and I catch you masturbating," I said. "Well, like I told you I was hoping to get some tonight and I didn't. I'm feeling horny too, real horny. So how about I masturbate too? How about I join you and we beat off together, watching each other?"
I tossed away the magazine.
"Instead of looking at that, a picture, you can look at me, live and in 3-D. What do you say, dad?"
He was still stunned to silence.
"That okay?" I said, standing there.
"Uh-- yeah-- I guess-- yeah--" he said, nervous.
"Good, dad," I said, "I'll sit right over here, opposite you."
My dad was stretched out on the bed, and opposite the bed was a little sofa my roommate had left behind when she moved to Alaska.
So now, as dad watched, stroking his shaft, I took off my clothes.
I turned around so he could see me unsnap my bra, taking it off, then slowly turned around to reveal my tits.
"Think they're pretty, dad? I know they're not as big as mom's."
I was perfectly aware that I had a perfect set of tits, round and firm. I'd been complimented on them many times, by guys and by babes. And though mom may have had big ones, they were always of the soft side and a little droopy. So I can imagine what dad was thinking, gazing at my pair.
Then I turned around again and slowly rolled my panties down over my ass, letting dad have a good view of my smooth, satiny bottom before I turned around and showed him that bush I'd mentioned.
"See?" I said, suddenly falling back on the couch and spreading my legs wide as dad gazed between them, his eyes a pair of intense lasers, scanning suddenly exposed sights. "No shaved pussy here."
I have an especially dense, thick pubic bush, honey colored, and I'm kind of proud of it. I think it's sexy.
"I shave a little down here in the summer," I said, pointing to my upper thighs, right below my crotch. "So it's smooth when I put on a bikini."
I did in fact have faint downy curls there, which I do shave. But that's all. Otherwise I leave my pubic hair natural, never trimming it.
"And here's what I've got under all that hair," I said, reaching in and spreading my outer labia, letting my father have a vivid view of my raw, pink pussy. I knew exactly what that pussy looked like. I'm one of these women who likes to look down at myself in a mirror. The same way I'm always hearing compliments about my breasts, both guys and girls have told me what a pretty pussy I have, so that made me a little bit of a narcissist about it. And I always looked forward to the moment when I could really show it off. Though I didn't think I'd be showing it off to my own father!
"Is it pretty, dad?" I couldn't help asking, seeing how intently my father was staring between my open legs as he fisted himself and I held it wide open for him. "Is it prettier than mom's?"
"Shit!" he smirked. "That cold bitch wouldn't even let me look at hers. I'd have to go down on her in the dark."
Wow! Dad sure felt a lot of pent-up resentment for mom.
"But yours, honey, yours is a beuatiful, a work of art."
"And your cock, dad, that's another piece of art," I said, staring at it. In fact, in my view at least, dad had himself a beautiful, perfect cock. I considered myself sort of a connoisseur of cocks, having laid my eyes on quite a few of them. And to supplement my personal observations, I've been a keen viewer of porn videos, which have allowed me endless opportunities to peruse erect cocks of every size, shape and color. From all this I've developed some standards. Proportion is all-important, though I do prefer my cocks on the large size, and thick too. And I especially like the sort that has a nice long muscle running along the underside, which gives the penis a real definition, like a sculpted body shaped by lots of hours in the gym. Though the sculpting of a cock is inborn and can't be altered by any effort. Anyway, dad had that kind of cock, I could now see, the kind that's defined by a muscle etching its underside.
Looking at his cock, I thought about our next door neighbor, Shirley enjoying it, sucking on it, taking it inside. Shirley's a rather ordinary looking, scrawny women. But she still oozes this intense, unmistakable sexuality, something I'd always noticed about her and, evidently, so had dad. So now I pictured Shirley dropping down to her bony knees in front of my dad, taking his big cock between her full lips.
"Bet Shirley loved that cock of yours," I couldn't help saying. "It's so big and hard. Bet Mr. Munson didn't have one like that."
Mr. Munson was Shirley's husband and, like my mom, he seemed to be another prude. No wonder Shirley and my dad, living in houses only a few yards apart, came to lust for one another.
"Yeah, she had herself a pretty good time with it," dad said, allowing himself a smile.
Now I wet a finger in my mouth and brought it down to my clit which I knew was hard and swollen and clearly visible to dad. Some babes, you can hardly see their clits under the hoods. But mine, it always stands out like a shiny, pink pea when I get excited.
"Look dad, I got myself a little hardon too," I said, flickering a finger across my engorged clit, showing it off. And, bringing a couple of fingers of my other hand to my mouth to make them wet, I brought them down to my stiff nipples and now rubbed them, giving dad a really sexy show, playing with my titties as I rubbed my pussy.
"See, isn't this better than a nasty old magazine?" I purred as he stroked away at his penis furiously, obviously loving the view of his naked, exposed daughter masturbating right in front of him. As I relished the sight of my father twisting his thick, long cock in his fist.
"Whack it, dad, go on and beat that meat!" I urged him, now sliding a couple of fingers up my very wet cunt, making sure dad had a perfect view of those stiff fingers disappearing up my vagina. I told my dad I'd be his alternative to a stroke mag, and now I was more than fulfilling my promise.