Maybe, Maybe Not

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19-year-old fantasises about her father.
1.8k words
3.89
81.8k
22

Part 1 of the 3 part series

Updated 09/22/2022
Created 05/05/2006
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"-Pass me the wrench?"

"This one?"

"No, the small one. -Thanks."

Sometimes Amy thought about one of her father's thick, calloused fingers sliding smoothly between her legs. How would it feel exactly, a finger like that?

"I think that's done it." He ducked out from under the sink. "Can you run the water?"

She reached to turn on the tap. He was sitting on the kitchen floor by her feet. He could probably look up her short skirt if he wanted to.

Would she like that? She wasn't sure.

Maybe.

Yes and no.

He was peering under the sink again, reaching back to do something.

-If he looked up now...

Something fluttered in her stomach.

"Yeah, there we go. Job done."

She had to move out of the way. He was getting to his feet and they smiled at each other.

"You can turn the water off," he told her.

Amy did so.

"Do you want a Coke?" he said, and when she nodded added; "Great, grab one for me too, will you? I'm going outside for a smoke."

She found him sitting on the wall rolling a cigarette; fingers and thumbs. The tip of his tongue touched the paper.

He wasn't sexy but sometimes thinking about him was. Such thoughts made her feel...

-naughty-?

He lit the cigarette and smiled and took the Coke. The sun or the cigarette smoke made him narrow his eyes.

"I should have been a plumber," he said. "Good money in it."

The low wall was warm on the backs of her legs as she sat down beside him.

"Why don't you take it up now?"

He looked at her as he popped the can; "-What, and give up making wiper blades?"

They both smiled. She knew how much he hated his job.

The can of Coke looked small in his hand...

-his big hands-

Sometimes Amy thought about them touching her. The hard skin would scratch where it touched. Fingers and thumbs like pliers pinching sensitive....

"-Nice out here today," he said and exhaled a stream of smoke. "But I'd better put the tools away."

He pinched the end from his cigarette. She knew if she ever tried doing that she'd burn herself.

She watched him go inside.

The thought of him was sexier when he wasn't there, when she wasn't actually talking to him and looking at him.

In real life he was just her father.

"Have you got any plans today?"

"-Just studying."

"No, seriously," he said, "-have you got any plans today?"

She laughed and he smiled.

"I am," she insisted. "I'm going upstairs now."

They were in the hall and he stepped aside to let her pass.

Sometimes in the stories she read online lecherous fathers watched their nineteen year old daughters scamper upstairs in their short skirts in the hope of catching a glimpse of their white panties.

Hers were red, not that she thought he'd look.

-But he might.

She scampered up the stairs with that thought dancing in her mind but when she reached the landing and glanced behind her he was already gone.

Sure, they were only stories after all...

-sexy, arousing stories-

But she wouldn't go there she told herself as she went into her bedroom. Not yet anyway. -But hold that thought. Maybe leave it on a low heat for later.

That would be nice.

Sweet.

Sexy.

Thinking about it made her feel good. Happy inside.

It was something to look forward to.

It was warm in her bedroom. Sunlight on her bed and the carpet. Someone down the street was using a mower as she sat on the bed and opened her books.

She started to read but somehow her father got into her thoughts.

If she considered it seriously she wouldn't want to do it with him, but if she considered it for fun, like a fantasy, it was pretty wild. It could make her wet if she thought about it long enough. She never really got into her fantasies in any detail; they were more a lot of soft focus images and erotic thoughts smoothly blended together...

-like his big hands gently caressing her-

-and sometimes his thick finger moving deliciously between her legs-

-sometimes he'd just hold her close-

-sometimes she thought about him spanking her, coming over all stern and masterful with his deep voice, and ignoring her protests-

'-Amy, come here,' he'd say. 'Bend over.' Then he'd be looking at her bottom. Lifting her skirt. Looking at her panties...

She could see that clearly in her mind but she didn't truly know how she'd feel if it ever happened; scared maybe. Or sexy. Or scared and sexy.

-Books, she thought then. Get a grip! Books. Read. Study, and she made an effort to push such thoughts from her mind.

Not yet.

Later.

Maybe.

-Probably, actually.

And finally she managed to get some work done...

...at least half an hours worth until she heard him outside her room.

"I'm just going to take a shower," he called.

"Okay."

He didn't open her door. He passed and she heard the bathroom door close.

-Sometimes she thought about him in the shower too. Sometimes she imagined they shared a shower; steam, soap suds, slick, wet bodies.

She hardly ever saw his face in her fantasies. He was just a body from the neck down. A masculine chest. An erection. –It might have been anyone's except she knew that it was his.

-The two of them in the close confines of the shower cubicle. His big hands slick with soap. Her nipples hard. Water trailing over her breasts.

And when he touched her...

Amy found herself gazing, unseeing at her books. She didn't know why she kept thinking about him. There were lots of guys she might have fantasised about. Lots of situations. Younger guys. Maybe it was an authority thing, obedience; being told what to do...

-Amy, come here-

-that set her mind racing.

Now he was in the shower getting wet and soapy. Maybe washing himself down there; hands, soap, water...

Did he masturbate? She didn't really like to imagine it. But if he did, what did he think about?

-Amy, come here. Bend over.

In a story a young woman might slip into the bathroom now and watch her father shower through the condensation on the glass. Might see a patch of dark shadow at his groin. A glimpse of his erection. Might overhear the sounds he made as he touched himself there.

In a story.

The sunlight through the window was warm on her bare legs as she sat on the bed. It was nice to feel it on her skin.

Down the street the lawnmower stopped and she heard a dog bark far away. It was summer out there.

She liked her bedroom. It was small. Private with the door closed. She curled her bare toes into the deep, soft rug beside her bed and quietly thought about her father.

She didn't think anything would ever really happen between them. –Wouldn't it just be all too embarrassing in real life?

Would she like it if it did?

But dreams were another thing. Anything could happen in a dream. In a fantasy. One of the favourite themes she liked to read in a story was where the father watched his sleeping daughter. The daughter wasn't always asleep. Sometimes she was just pretending and turned over with a sigh and deliberately parted her legs so that he could look at her down there. Or apparently inadvertently revealed a swollen nipple to his hungry gaze.

Then there was the kind of story where the young woman masturbated unaware that her father was watching her. That was pretty wild too.

And stories with a spanking theme.

Actually they were all good.

Now Amy thought about her father spanking her. She was wearing clothes and then she wasn't. She was completely naked, across his lap, and he was spanking her hard.

-very hard-

-and he was hard-

She put aside her books; she had to do it, do something, get off.

The urge was growing as it always did; appealing and exciting. Anticipation, still with a low key sense of wrong doing. Enough survived of that to double her pleasure.

She gave in to it and quickly moved her bottom to the edge of the bed then lay back.

-She thought; what if he comes in now and catches me? What if he was watching somewhere?

She moved her hands up and down her body, slower over her hips, down and up again, lifting her short skirt and exposing her panties.

Feeling naughty.

If he was watching somehow, if he could see her, he'd want to see her breasts.

She lifted her T-shirt and imagined he was nearby. She caressed her breasts then bared them and teased her nipples as she opened and closed her legs.

And she gasped and slipped one hand between her legs and quickly closed them to trap a small sweet orgasm that came as a pleasant surprise.

Then rubbed herself towards another. Slow then fast.

Naked, she thought; she wanted to be naked for him. Let him spank her naked. Let him see everything.

She shed her clothes quickly in the afternoon sunlight.

He's in the shower, she thought excitedly.

Just one door away.

She lay on her bed with her legs wide and stroked her inner thighs. She touched her breasts and squeezed her nipples- remembering- fingers and thumbs like pliers... and naughty Amy, bend over... and his thick middle finger slipping smoothly and deeply between her legs, faster in and out, fast and thick, untiring...

-Oh Godddd-

She raised her hips, her fingers busy between her legs.

-Oh God- oh God- oh Go-

-spank me Daddy-

- I've been a naughty girl-

-his big hand rising and falling-

-his thick finger pushing deep inside her and twisting-

- his hands kneading her breasts-

-pinching her nipples-

-his face between her legs-

-his tongue darting-

-his thick erection-

She climaxed three times; two small, one big, her hips going up each time to meet them thrusting. Then she collapsed, exhausted, breathing fast, coming down hot, happy and satisfied.

-For now-

Was he still in the shower? She didn't know. She dressed quickly. Her fantasies by then all dissolved; put away, but not forgotten.

"Do you want to watch a movie?" he said later.

It was just getting dark.

Amy was freshly showered and her hair was still damp.

They watched The Blues Brothers, one of her father's favourites, sitting side by side on the couch as the room grew dark and the air turned cooler.

Amy remembered a story she'd read; father daughter, watching TV. They'd started to touch each other in the flickering light.

-But nothing like that would ever happen between them-

Would she want it to? She wasn't sure.

Maybe. Maybe not.

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2 Comments
AnonymousAnonymousalmost 18 years ago
Very Nicely Done

Much better that a fuck fest starting on line 2

AnonymousAnonymousalmost 18 years ago
An exciting read

Love the style!! Wonder what Dad was thinking.....

Long and slow build up couldn't be better THANKS!!

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