Dream Come True

My father was looking at me funny. I know, I know. How eloquent of me. How incredibly well worded. But that's it, really. That's how it started.

I was at my parent's house for dinner. It's a monthly "tradition", a feeble attempt made by my mother to keep our family close. But, the problem is... we were never actually close. Definitely not one of those tight-knit families you see on TV. Anyway, I am twenty-four and have been living on my own for five years, and now my brother was away at college, my mother had started to freak out. Empty nest, and all that. So, she imposed this stupid monthly get together rule that we all pretty much hated.

This happened on the sixth month of this new ritual gathering. My mother was called away, thirty minutes into our dinner, because my aunt had been in a car accident. That sounds cavalier, I know. I should say she left in a rush, or that she was in a frenzied hurry to get to her sister's side. She wasn't. She never is. My mother is cold and meticulous. That's how she's been since I was born, as far as I know. She took the time to set dinner in front of us, she picked out a book to pass the time in the hospital, she changed her clothes and refreshed her makeup. And then she left.

Absolved of his familial duties, my brother left soon after she did, to go see his girlfriend of one year. And so, for the first time since I can't remember when, it was just my father and me. We ate dinner in near silence. I think he asked me about my job, but he always does, so I don't really remember. I helped him clear the table and rinse the dishes. After that, I didn't know what to do. It was only seven. Usually, we forced ourselves to play a card game or watch a movie before my brother and I left for our respective houses.

With out my mother or my brother, a card game was pretty much pointless. But I felt bad leaving my father at home alone, so I helped him pick a movie. My parents, when I moved out, had turned my bedroom into a media room. It was halfway down the hall in the back of the house... the only room past it was their bedroom. When I walked in the media room, he was crouched on the floor in front of the bookshelf where they kept the movies.

That's when he looked at me funny. Like he'd never seen me before, or like he'd just been thinking about something he really wanted and then there it was. He wanted me. That much was clear. My heartbeat accelerated and I felt my face and neck go flush. The minute our eyes met, I stumbled back into the doorframe behind me. He rose from his crouching position and stalked forward; eyeing me like a wolf might stare down a deer it was hunting.

There were no words. I met and held his piercing gaze, and when he stopped in front of me I bit my bottom lip. He knew me well enough to realize that I'd looked at him this way before, he knew well enough that I wanted him the way he wanted me. His hands reached up and grasped my arms, the tips of his fingers burned into my skin like a hot iron. They moved down my arms, leaving a tingling trail behind them, and stopped when they wrapped around my waist.

And then he lowered his face to mine. His hot breath smelled like red wine, and the closeness of his lips was making me dizzy. When they finally touched mine, I nearly fainted. I'd been waiting for this moment for years. I hadn't even been old enough to understand my own desires when the fantasies of being wrapped warmly in my father's arms began.

The heat from his lips ran down my neck and settled in the pit of my stomach. I had butterflies. Delicious butterflies. My father moved his hands up from my waist to grip the sides of my face and hold me to him. His tongue, hot and moist, ran across the top of my bottom lip, and when my mouth opened to emit my cry of pleasure, he thrust it inside. His fingers threaded into my hair, pulling me closer while his tongue moved greedily in my mouth.

I wrapped my arms around him. I pressed myself into him; I could not get close enough. Plus, I needed his strength to support me... I was shaking like a leaf in the wind. I grew bolder as his kisses got hotter and more intense. Soon my tongue was matching the strokes of his, my fingers were clawing their way under his shirt and scratching at the skin on his back. And I was purring. Moan after moan vibrated from my throat and into his mouth.

He broke the kiss and pulled my head back softly by my hair, exposing my pale neck. I cried out when my father's tongue touched the base of my throat. I couldn't breathe for five excruciating seconds as he ran his tongue boldly up to my jaw, stopping just by my earlobe. His breath was heavy, slow, and it tickled the hairs at the nape of my neck. His fingers and lips blazed trails all over my tingling throat. Then his warm fingers reached the top of my shirt. They hooked around the edge, and pulled it down, leaving the top of my chest bare.

He kissed down the front of the bare skin, leaving goose bumps everywhere they touched. My breasts, still covered by my lacy pink brassiere, begged wantonly for his touch. I moaned angrily when his lips stopped just shy of the rise of my creamy breasts. He raised his head and stared at me, his eyes flaming.

Then my father left the room. Left me, leaning precariously against the wall of what was once the room I'd spent nights touching myself and pretending my hands were his.

I felt like crying, but then I heard his voice, floating on the air from the living room. He was on the phone. I could tell, by the terse responses and simple questions that he was talking to my mother.

He came back. This time he didn't look at me. He wrapped his fingers around my much smaller hand and led me back, down the hallway through the door to the bedroom he shared with my mother. That's when it dawned on me. He'd been checking on her. He wanted to see how long we had together. My passionate acceptance of his wandering caresses had not left him dry and disappointed. My obvious innocence, my pliant woman's body and my willingness to be led rather than to lead had him wanting me more.

My father stopped me in front of the bed and smiled into my eyes. "I love you, baby girl." He whispered. The first words either of us had spoken and they rang in my ears like sweet bells.

He brushed his fingers under my chin before grasping the bottom of my shirt and pulling it over my head. Then he hooked them into the band of my skirt and drew it down, letting it drop to the floor once it passed my knees. He knelt on the carpet in front of me and pressed his head into my smooth belly, the flat of his palms caressing my bare back. He sighed and looked up into my eyes, which were staring at him in loving wonder. He was my hero, my rock star, and forgive me the blasphemy, he was my God.

"I love you too, Daddy." I said, my voice low and soft for fear of shattering the moment with loud noise or the wrong words.

He grinned up at me and kissed my stomach. Then he moved his hands downward, stopping shortly to cup my buttocks and grin again before running them down the entire length of my smooth legs. His fingers tickled the back of my knees and traced the muscles of my calves before burning their way up the inside of my thighs.

He pulled my panties off, rubbing the soft fabric between his thumb and his middle finger before putting them in his pocket. Then he nuzzled his way into the hot space between my legs. I spread them wide for him and dug my fingers into his hair. He kissed the soft, trim hairs just above the folds of my vagina. He used his thumbs to part me, and the first touch of his tongue on my clit was enough to make me cry out, "Oh God!"

I felt him smile between my legs; it was a brief smile, before he began to lap eagerly at my young pussy. I was so wet for him, so hot for him. I had been for years. My legs were shaking, tingling, and the whole time he was pleasuring me all I could think to myself was "That's my father. That's my daddy loving me."

He knew just were to touch me. His thick finger pushed gently into my vagina, curving over and tapping and thrusting against the fleshy walls. I heard his muffled voice then, as I was dripping and moaning and clinging to him. "Cum for me, Baby. Cum now for Daddy."

I'd do anything for him. Even cum on demand. So I did. Every muscle in my body tensed and collapsed. My fingers dug roughly into my father's scalp, my toes curled under, and I screamed. And fell. I landed on my back, still quivering and staring up at the ceiling of my parents' bedroom.

My father ran his hands lovingly up the sides of my legs and my waist, lifting himself up on the bed and over me. He leaned down with a soft smile and kissed the side of my mouth. My breathing gradually grew quieter and more balanced, but he didn't let it stay that way long. As soon as I could breathe right, he was trailing wet kisses over my throat and my chest. He wrapped his arms around me and unhooked my bra, leaving my eager breasts naked.

He looked at them. He touched them lightly. He brushed his fingertips over the erect nipples. He cupped them loosely. My father studied my supple breasts in obvious awe. Then he lowered his head and wrapped his lips around a nipple. The glorious, stinging heat of it was too much, and I cried out loudly. My bare body lifted against his still clothed one and my hands sought something to cling to.

By the time he stopped, I was writhing under him like a cat in heat. He pulled away from me and lifted his shirt over his head. His body was beautiful... masculine. Hard and covered in crisp, dark hairs. I was still staring when I heard the metal clink of his belt buckle being loosened. I sat up and watched my father as he pulled his pants off and let them and his boxers fall to the ground. His liberated erection sprang upward, hard and wide and smooth. It was impressive. Better than I'd imagined. I couldn't help myself, I wanted it in my mouth.

Still on the bed, I crawled toward him, a devilish grin blossoming on my face. I moaned when it was finally in my hands. The firm, smooth flesh strained against my palm, but I wasn't there for a hand job. So I lowered my face until my lips were touching the tip of his cock. Daddy moaned, and loud, when I opened my searing mouth and wrapped my lips around his salty shaft. His fingers threaded into my hair and pulled me forward, pushing my wet mouth down the length of his dick.

I moved over him, working his cock. I licked him, tasting the sweaty tang of him. I reveled in him, how smooth he was, how hard he was. I've never wanted anyone inside me more than I wanted my own father, and that thought was making me drip.

Sooner than I wanted, he pulled away from me. I moved to take him back into my mouth, but he restrained me. "No, Baby." He said. "I want more from you than this."

Then he stood me up and whipped the covers off the queen sized bed. I sat down and scooted toward the headboard, and he crawled toward me, a new, fiery hunger burning in his eyes. He grabbed my legs and pulled me until I was lying flat on my back with my legs wrapping around the sides of his body.

He leaned forward; I felt his dick pressing against me. I couldn't speak; my breathing was harsh and uneven. I begged him with my eyes. He kissed my forehead before speaking again. "For years, I've been making love to your mother in this bed. And for the last five years, I've been imagining she was you. You're my dream, baby girl. I've wanted you for so long."

Then he grunted and thrust himself into me. He filled my pussy perfectly. He pushed into me, pulled out of me and every motion was precise. He set me on fire. I was ready to cum again when he pulled out and away from me. He saw the sorrow in my eyes and grinned.

"I want you from behind." He said.

"Okay, Daddy." I got up and waited for him to direct me to where he wanted me. He had me on my hands and knees on the soft bed.

As he pushed his incredible cock into me again, he grunted and said, "Your mother never lets me do this."

I wiggled my butt against him, and looked behind me. "Daddy?"

"Yeah, baby?"

"Fuck me hard." I whispered.

"What?"

"I've wanted this for as long as I can remember. Please, Daddy. Fuck me hard."

He sped up, thrusting into me faster and faster until I felt his balls smacking my clit. I was so excited, he felt so good pounding into me that I started to squeal with every thrust.

He rubbed his hand up my back. "I'm going to cum, Baby girl." He said, and slowed his thrusting.

I pushed back against him. "Don't stop, Daddy. It's fine. I want to feel you cum inside me."

He didn't need any more encouragement. He drove his cock deep inside me and released his warm sperm with a loud cry. All I needed to have my second orgasm was this... the sensation of the semen that had made me, spurting deep into my womb. I screamed again, my body convulsing, the walls of my pussy squeezing his shaft, greedily pumping him for more.

We both collapsed. It was several minutes before I asked, "How late will Mom be out?"

He looked at the alarm clock. It was ten-thirty. "I don't know."

The phone rang. He trudged to the living room to answer it. Minutes later he returned. "Your aunt is sleeping. Your mother's on her way back now."

We both rushed to get dressed, and I helped him make the bed. He gave me a long, not at all fatherly kiss before I left. It wasn't until I got back to my own apartment that I remembered my father still had my panties.