I Have Always Loved My Father

When I awoke the next morning my father was gone, and there was a tall, balding man in his early fifties sitting in the chair where my father should have been.

"Where's my father?" I demanded, searching the room frantically for him.

"Don't worry, he should be back any minute. He was covered in blood, so I suggested that he go home and change. I also recommended that he get some sleep, but I know he won't listen. I can't say that I blame him; if I had a daughter as beautiful as you I'd never leave her side," he said, licking his thin lips. His pale blue eyes greedily drank in my hourglass figure before resting appreciatively on my full breasts. The flimsy material of the hospital gown did nothing to hide my sensual curves, and the doctor stared openly at them while shifting uncomfortably in his seat. He grabbed the metal clipboard that hung from my bedrail and used it to cover his growing erection. He stared into my hazel eyes, which were framed by a set of long, dark lashes. "You are a remarkable young woman. I've never seen anyone who was as beautiful as you. What's your ethnicity by the way?" he asked, his fingertips lightly touching a lock of my long, raven-colored hair.

"I'm of mixed heritage. My father is biracial and my mother was Native American. I don't know much about her because she died while giving birth to me," I said, hoping that the mention of my dead mother would shift the focus of our conversation and soften the raging hard-on that the doctor no longer bothered to conceal. I knew that my ploy had failed when the doctor leaned in close to me and touched a hand to my face.

"I would have guessed that you were Hawaiian, because of your almond-shaped eyes and long hair, but since your mother was Native American I can see where you get your bone structure. You have perfect features, like a Barbie-doll or a figurine. How old are you?" he asked, his breath hot against my skin.

"I just turned eighteen. Yesterday was my birthday," I said, wishing whole-heartedly that my father would return.

"I bet you've had a lot of boyfriends, haven't you? A girl as pretty as you doesn't spend too many nights alone. Are you a virgin Nila?" he asked, placing a hand on my inner thigh. His fingers crept upward until they were pressed against the silky material of my panties. A bead of sweat trickled down his face as he slowly pulled my panties to one side, exposing my bare vagina to the chill of the air-conditioned room.

"Oh God, you feel so good," he panted, ignoring the tears that spilled down my cheeks as he rubbed his index finger against my clit.

"I've been married for twenty-three years, and I've been miserable for twenty-two of them. I only stayed with my wife for the sake of our kids, and now that our three boys are grown I've run out of excuses to go home at night," he said, moving his finger away from my clit and pushing it deep into my hole.

"Sweet Jesus, you're so tight and warm. I'd give anything to be with you, right here in this room" he whispered, his translucent skin flush with excitement. The horrific nature of his actions had frozen me in place, and I could do little more than cry as he penetrated me with his finger. But I found my voice when he removed his erect penis from his slacks and tried to force his way inside me.

"No!" I screamed, shoving him away and sitting up straight. I pushed myself into a corner of the hospital bed, regarding him with a mixture of hatred and fear as I cried.

"Oh jeez, I'm so sorry," he said, stuffing his hard dick back into his pants. "I didn't mean to hurt you, it's just that you're so beautiful and...I lost control of myself. Please forgive me," he said. He cracked open the door and stared nervously out into the hallway, obviously checking to see if anyone had noticed my screams. Satisfied that no one had heard me, he closed the door and returned to my bedside. "I'm really sorry. Here, I'll just have a look at your wrists and approve you for discharge so that you can get out of here, okay?" he said, quickly unwrapping my bandages and examining the stitches that crisscrossed the length of my forearms. When he saw that my wounds were healing properly, he ran his fingers through what was left of his thinning hair and watched in dismay as I continued to sob.

"Look, there's no need for you to tell your father about this. He's still pretty upset about you trying to commit suicide, and mentioning what happened here would only hurt him. You don't want to cause your father any more pain, do you sweetheart?" he asked, his voice laced with apprehension. We both knew that my father's pain would be nothing compared to what the doctor would feel when my father got through with him, and a part of me welcomed the idea of watching the doctor's body go limp as my father strangled him to death. But on a deeper level I was forced to admit that the doctor had made a valid point, no matter how self-serving. My father had been through enough over the last few days, and he certainly didn't need the added stress of me being sexually assaulted right on the heels of my attempted suicide. I loved my father much more than I could ever hate the disgusting pervert that cowered in front of me, so for my father's sake I decided to keep the incident to myself.

"I won't say anything. But if you so much as look at me again I'll change my mind so fast it'll make your goddamned head spin. And if my father doesn't kill you, he'll make you wish he had," I spat, gathering strength from the terror that crept into the doctor's eyes.

"I'm really, really sorry. You'll never see me again, I swear. Just please don't say anything," he stammered, looking less like a predator and more like a frail, brittle old man.

"Get out of my fucking sight!" I yelled as the doctor spun on his heels and nearly tripped in his haste to leave the room.

I got up from the bed and took a long, hot shower, scrubbing furiously at the layer of shame that still clung to me in the wake of my humiliation. I lathered and rinsed until the insult of another man's touch had lifted from my pores and sailed swiftly down the drain, taking with it the stream of tears that poured out from underneath my closed eyelids. I crouched down low in the tub and laid flat on my back, half hoping that the scalding water entering my nose and open mouth would drown me. Just as my lungs began to fill with liquid and steam, someone entered the small bathroom and shut the water off. I opened my eyes to reveal my father, dressed sharply in a long-sleeved shirt and creased slacks, his brows knotted with concern. With a clear disregard for the expensive Italian threads that were tailored to fit his muscular build, he reached into the tub and pulled me to my feet, hugging my naked body close to his.

"I'll never love anyone as much as I love you," I said, wrapping my arms around his waist.

"You say that now bien-aimé, but as soon as you go off to college you'll fall in love and forget me," he said, smiling.

"No Daddy, you don't understand. I love you. I'll always love you. There's no room for anyone else."

"Sweetheart, I know that you love me. Ever since you were a little girl, you've always been close to me. But I also know that you're growing up, and that one day you'll go out into the world and realize that I'm not the only man in it. And when that happens, you'll let me go," he whispered, his lips pressed against my wet curls.

"No Daddy, never. Please don't say that," I sobbed, my vision blurred with tears.

"There's no need to cry angel. Everything will work out for the best. Pretty soon you'll get married and have children, and I'll be there to love you and support you every step of the way."

"But I don't want any of those things; I want you!" I blurted before I could stop myself.

"What did you say?" he asked, holding me at arms length and staring into my eyes. My cheeks turned a deep shade of crimson, and I blushed even harder when I realized that I had forgotten to cover myself. My golden skin shone brightly under the fluorescent lights, droplets of water still clinging to my breasts, stomach, and thighs as I stood naked before him. His eyes traveled the length of my curvy body before he wrapped me up in a large bath towel.

"Vous êtes plus beaux chaque jour," he said before kissing my lips.

"Daddy...?" He smiled at the quizzical expression on my face and kissed me again, making it hard for me to breathe.

"It means, 'You are more beautiful each day.'" He cleared his throat loudly, then directed his attention to the small suitcase that sat on the floor beside his feet.

"I brought a change of clothes for you, so that you wouldn't have to leave here in a hospital gown," he said, picking up the suitcase and handing it to me. "Now hurry and get dressed so we can get out of here."

Neither of us spoke on the ride home. We didn't feel the need to crowd the space between us with words, preferring instead to ride along in silence. He drove his black BMW Z4 Roadster with an arm around my shoulders, holding me close to him as he navigated the scenic route with one hand on the steering wheel. I closed my eyes and was on the verge of sleep when we came to a stop in front of our beautiful two-story home. My father saw that I was tired and opened the passenger side door. He unfastened my seatbelt and lifted me up in his arms, carrying me upstairs to his bedroom. He pulled my dress over my head and took off my high-heeled shoes, leaving me only in the lacy black bra and panties that I wore underneath. He tucked me in to his bed and kissed me tenderly on the lips. I feigned slumber as he began removing his clothes, folding his slacks and shirt neatly before placing them in a hamper. I could see the well-defined outline of his manhood through the form-fitting material of his briefs, and I admired the way it hung wide and low as he moved about the room. I also took in the way the dim light danced across his bulging muscles before he extinguished it, plunging the room in darkness. When he climbed into bed next to me a dull ache began to resonate throughout my body. Knowing that I wouldn't make it through the night with him being so near, I threw back the covers and planted my feet on the polished hardwood floor. I intended to lie in my own bed so that I could quiet the urge that was burning within me, but before I could stand up my father reached out and caught me by the waist. "Where are you going?" he asked, hooking his arm around me and dragging me across the bed until our bodies touched. He kissed me softly on my neck, and again on my cheek. "Um, I think it would be better if I slept in my own bed tonight. I toss and turn in my sleep, and I don't want to disturb you," I said, pressing my legs together in an effort to curb my arousal. "From now on this is your bed. I threw your old bed away and turned your room into a lounge because I couldn't stand the thought of you sleeping in there after what happened. Besides, I need to keep a close eye on you," he said, leaving me without an excuse to get away. He gathered me up in his arms and rolled me over until I was lying on top of him, his bulge pressing tightly against my moist center.

"Daddy please," I begged, unable to hide my desperation. "I promise I won't hurt myself again. I can sleep in the guest room down the hall, or in—"

"Shhhh," my father said, placing his index finger over my lips. "There's no sense in arguing petite fille, because I've already made up my mind," he said, the finality in his voice letting me know that he wouldn't be swayed by my objections. His hands moved from my waist down to the curve of my ass, and the feel of his palms against my bare bottom broke apart the last of my self-restraint. What little control I had over the functions of my body deserted me, and I watched in silent horror as I sat up began grinding my warm pussy against my father's sleeping dick. I squeezed my eyes shut and worked my hips in a frenzy, my movements becoming more deliberate as I felt my father's body respond. His briefs were pulled taut over his hard shaft, and his erect penis struggled to free itself of the restrictive material. After only a few minutes the sensation became too much for me, and an orgasm tore through my body. A trail of my passion flowed from my dripping cunt onto the front of my father's briefs, soaking the stretchy cotton. I put my hands over my face as hot tears spilled from my eyes.

"Please don't hate me," I said, quivering with fear. My father rose slowly, sitting upright with my legs wrapped around his waist. He grabbed a fistful of my hair and yanked my head back, running the tip of his tongue up my neck and over my chin before reaching my gaping mouth. His kiss was a thousand times sweeter than any I had ever imagined, and I savored the taste of him as his tongue wove slow circles around my own. He swept my long hair to one side and unhooked my bra, massaging my breasts as he let my bra fall to the floor. He stroked my nipples with his thumbs until they were almost as hard as the long, thick shaft that was pressing into the soft lace of my panties. He laid me gently on my back and took each nipple into his mouth, sucking and licking them as I cried out in ecstasy. He slid off my panties and tossed my legs over his shoulders, kissing my second pair of lips as deeply as he had the first. He coaxed my clit from its hiding place with his tongue and licked it while stimulating my g-spot with his middle finger. I dug my heels into the bed and arched my back, my trembling thighs tightening like a vise around my father's head.

"Oh Daddy ...ahhhh...AHHHHHHHH!" A stream of warm liquid shot from my pulsing cunt into my father's mouth, and he lapped it up as if it were the sweetest thing he'd ever tasted. He sat up, licking the last drop of moisture from his lips as I writhed in pleasure.

"Come here," he whispered, removing his underwear and laying on his back. When I regained my composure, I crawled on my hands and knees in between his legs until my face hovered above his throbbing dick. He put a hand in my hair and gently pushed my head down until I had taken him in my mouth. I sucked him deep into my throat, relishing the way his long, hard cock felt against my tongue. His loud moans encouraged me to test my limit, and I opened my mouth as wide as it would go in order to accommodate the entirety of his twelve inches along with most of his sac. It was his turn to scream as I pushed him in and out of my mouth, sucking and licking him as if it were the last thing I'd ever do. After awhile my father flipped me onto my back and spread my legs. He entered me gradually, feeding me his pulsing dick inch by inch until he was able to pump in and out of my tight, virgin pussy with ease. I clung to my father for dear life as he moved within me, the solid oak headboard nearly splintering into a thousand pieces as it slammed against the wall with each of my father's powerful thrusts. I could hardly breathe as he fucked me into oblivion, the intensity of his lovemaking so profound that I nearly forgot how to draw air into my lungs. He pinned my arms high above my head and interlocked his fingers with my own, loving me hard and fast, then slowly and sweetly for what seemed like hours before we collapsed in orgasm. We cried and held each other as he filled me with his seed, my father pumping hard and deep until the last of his semen had flowed from the tip of his penis into my welcoming center. We kissed through our tears, and the sweet, sticky mixture of his cum and my juices created a warm sensation as it snaked down my inner thigh.

"How long have you known?" I asked, pressing my damp forehead against his and closing my eyes.

"I've always known. You've never had any secrets from me," he said, kissing me tenderly.

"Why didn't you ever try anything with me before now if you knew how much I needed you?" I asked, unable to understand why he had let me suffer.

"Because I had to hear you say it. This was a big step for us to take, and I didn't want to push you before you were ready," he said.

"When did you first realize that you wanted me too?" I asked, raking my fingernails over his back.

"When you were fifteen. I came home early from work one evening, and I saw that the light was on in my study. I went to go turn it off, but stopped when I heard soft moans coming from inside. The door was cracked, and I saw you lying naked on top of my desk with your fingers in between your legs. I was angrier than I had ever been in my entire life, because I was sure that at any moment some teenaged punk was going to replace your fingers with his dick. I thought to myself 'this is my worst nightmare come true. I'm going to catch my little girl fucking some lowlife in my house, and then I'll be sent to prison for killing him with my bare hands.' But I opened the door a little wider and was surprised to see that you were all alone. And I was even more surprised when you reached a climax and called out my name. As I watched you cum all over my desk and scream for me, it took everything I had to keep from fucking you. And when you curled up into a ball and cried, it took everything I had to keep from holding you. You were so beautiful yet so tortured, and I knew that I'd never be able to look at you the same way again. Right or wrong, I was in love," he said, his green eyes shining.

"I thought you would hate me," I said, wiping away my tears.

"I could never hate you mon amour. You mean more to me than anything in this whole world, and I plan to spend the rest of my life with you, if you'll let me," he said, running his fingers through my hair.

"I'll never leave you," I whispered, grabbing him by the hips and pushing him back into me as deep as he would go. We both moaned, and he made love to me again and again until we were overcome by sleep.

When I told my father I would never leave him, I had no way of knowing that I had already lied to him twice. The first time I left, my father carried me away kicking and screaming, and the second time I left, I walked out on my own. But both times I left him, and the second time I never came back.

The first time I left was to attend college. For months we fought bitterly about whether or not I should receive a higher education, and we reached a breaking point the night before I was scheduled to leave for Princeton. My father was stuffing a mountain of my clothes, shoes, and toiletries into a series of designer suitcases, because I had refused to do any of the packing myself. I stood and watched as he emptied out my closet and filled all eleven suitcases with my stuff, meticulously separating my things and labeling each piece of luggage so that I would know which items went where. Neither of us spoke as he transferred my personal belongings to the suitcases, and ten minutes had passed before I realized that I had been holding my breath. By the time he finished we were both in tears, and I couldn't control my anger any longer. I walked over to the suitcases and emptied each one, dumping the contents that had taken my father hours to pack out onto the floor. His mouth hung open in shock as I ruined all of his hard work, and he was speechless when I began to shout.

"Why are you forcing me to do this? It's obvious that you don't want me to leave as much as I don't want to go, so why can't I stay here with you?" I yelled, picking up an empty suitcase and throwing it across the room. The loud crash of the suitcase hitting the bedroom wall snapped him out of his stunned silence, and his voice boomed throughout the entire house.

"You're going to college Nila, and that's final! What would you think of me if I let you waste all of your knowledge and talent just so I could keep you here?" he asked.

"I'd think that you must love me as much as you say you do! I'd think that you're not a heartless sonofabitch that cares more about money and status than actually spending time with me!"