tagIncest/TabooMy Incest Love Affair

My Incest Love Affair

byPuff©

This is a true love story

My father did not raise me. He left my mother and me when I was still a baby. He did keep in contact and saw me occasionally. I must have seen him only on Sundays because I remember calling him my Sunday Daddy. I have just a few memories of him, mostly remembering that he was fun to be with and affectionate. He did tuck me in at night and gave me kisses and hugs all the time.

Before I even entered school, my father moved away. At the time, I really didn't understand what this meant. It was important, though, and I remember watching a plane in the sky and asking my mother if Daddy was on that plane. I never heard from him again. From that time on, I didn't think too much about him. My mother found another man and married him, and I was happy to be in a family.

As I grew older, I started to think of my Daddy, and when I was 18, I got up the nerve to ask my mother to help me find him. I know this hurt her, but I wanted to know where I came from and who the other part of me was. Much to my surprise, my mother found his address and gave it to me. She was sad that I wanted to do this, trying not to make it seem I was somehow being disloyal. In some way, I think she understood why. She wished me luck in contacting him.

My father was living in LA, far from me. I wrote a letter, then rewrote a letter, and several drafts later, I finally had one letter. What do I say to someone who may or may not want me in his life? Dear Dad? Remember me? I had not seen nor heard from him since that long-ago day. Does he even want to know me? I don't remember what that letter said. I just mailed it. And prayed he would answer.

For the first two weeks, I was afraid to get the mail. I watched for his answer with hope as well as trepidation. After one month, I started to think he was not going to answer. Well, what did I expect? Here I was barging into his life. After about six weeks, I stopped looking for a letter. When you stop searching, what you want comes to you. A letter arrived almost two months after I had mailed mine.

My hands trembled as I opened it, afraid of what it said. Tears poured forth, but they were tears of joy. He wanted me. He was interested in me. He missed me over the years and couldn't believe his luck that I wanted to know him, too. We started sending letters back and forth getting to know each other, talking about our lives.

Time passed quickly and my life at home was changing. I was a grown woman now, or thought I was at 20. I felt I wanted a different life and asked Dad if I could move in with him and start a new life in LA. He talked this over with his wife, and since I was this man's only daughter, she agreed to let me stay with them for a time. My father sent a plane ticket to me and I flew to LA to meet the man I really never knew.

I was very nervous when I got off that plane, not knowing what to expect. However, there was my Daddy, with a huge smile on his face and love in his eyes. He hugged me tight to him and just about never let me go. He introduced me to his wife, a different woman from the one he had left my mother for. She was open and friendly, happy to share in this family reunion.

I spent a lot of time alone with my father. We talked and talked. We went sight-seeing and out to eat. We went for walks and talked even more. I found out his reasons for leaving my mother and me. I also found out that he never had any other children. I was his one and only. I was surprised and felt even more special than he was already making me feel. I discovered so much of myself in knowing my father. We had many things in common.

Even after all the years apart, I can't remember ever calling him anything other than Dad. And every possible second he could, Dad was touching me, holding me, hugging me. I enjoyed the attention he gave to me and eagerly allowed his every touch. Our relationship grew in many ways, and in other ways that I would come to know later.

I was busy after I arrived, and being an independent person, I figured out the bus system and found myself a job, which I started immediately. I made my way around and started to settle in. Dad was pleased that I was able to find work so quickly and make my way. The thing that brought joy to my heart was how proud he was of me. I only wanted to make him happy.

My new life was building quickly. My employer was impressed with me and was talking of an early promotion. I was making new friends and learning the joys of California living. I was very happy. One of my pleasures was in taking long walks with Dad. I had wanted to get into better shape and he wanted to spend the time with me. We walked miles around the neighborhood, talking, laughing and holding hands.

At the end of our walks, before going inside, we would kiss goodnight, give a warm hug, then go in the house. A soft peck, as a father and daughter would, and a close, firm hug of love. On one of these nights, it occurred to me that this kiss lasted a little longer, and the hug was a little closer. I looked into Dad's eyes and saw his love, but something else as well. I dismissed this and went to bed as usual.

After each nightly walk, Dad held our goodnight kiss longer, and I was the one who would break away. I don't remember when exactly I had to start breaking out of Dad's embrace as well as ending the kiss, but as I did, each night, he would slide his hands down my arms. He looked me deep in the eyes and would whisper, "I love you."

Now, I was becoming confused. I started questioning myself. These kisses and hugs were starting to seem more than fatherly love. Or was I just being silly? This man loved me, wanted me with him, cherished me as his only daughter. Yet, while getting ready for bed after our goodnight hugs, I would feel my lips tingling from his and my arms would hold the feeling of his hands on me. But, from my father? The love I saw in his eyes was because I was his child, right?

It was on the weekend and Dad's wife was out shopping for the day. Dad and I rented movies and sat next to each other on the couch watching sci-fi B movies, laughing at the bad acting and having a good time. Since I had moved in with him, I had the spot on the couch next to him, sitting with my feet tucked up next to me and cuddled in the curve of his arm. I was safe there, loved. This was not unusual, and was, in fact, our habit. Dad was caressing my shoulders and I found his fingers tracing the collar of my shirt and tickling the hairs at my neck. With a start, I realized I was feeling aroused. I can't even imagine what the look was on my face when I turned to Dad. He was looking at me and had a twinkle in his eyes. I sat up and away from him, but said nothing for a minute. Abruptly, I got up and announced I was going to make popcorn, leaving the couch and my father behind.

I started to make popcorn and pour pop in glasses. My hands were trembling. I just couldn't put together in my mind that my father's touch was arousing me sexually. I had been taught that was wrong. I was so startled that I jumped when I felt my father embrace me from behind. He had quietly come in the kitchen and slipped his arms around my waist. He whispered in my ear that he loved me. I was trembling all over, sure that he could tell. He turned me to face him and told me to let him kiss me, like he wanted to kiss me. I was stunned and could only nod.

Dad put his lips to mine, gently at first, then with ever increasing pressure. I jumped again when I felt his tongue trace the middle line of my pressed lips. I pushed against him, denying this was happening. He pulled a little away and I breathlessly uttered, "No."

"Yes," he replied. "Because I love you so much." He pressed his lips to mine again and forced my own to open to him. I felt his tongue gently exploring my mouth. I don't remember if I was breathing. I wasn't moving. I was stunned and my mind was reeling. Even as Dad deepened his kiss, he pressed closer to me and I was without doubt feeling his erection pressing against me. I was undone.

With this one incredible kiss, I let go and melted into my father's arms. The tension dropped from me and my legs became weak. Dad pressed me tighter to him as I responded to his touch and his kiss. My arms went around his neck and my fingers went through his hair. When Dad pulled away from me, I felt flushed, and I am sure my lips were swollen from his kiss. My skin burned where the heat of his erection had been touching me. I couldn't say a word. Even if I could have, what was there to say?

I left the kitchen. I left the popcorn, the pop, the movie and my father. I retreated to my room and locked the door. I was shaking so much I couldn't stand. I needed to make sense of this. This man, my father, was making me feel things I thought daughters didn't feel with their fathers. There was electricity between us along with something I couldn't name. The feeling inside me was overwhelming, but what was I going to do with this? And, even if he wasn't my father, he was married! I lived in his wife's house. Insane. That's what I was, insane. There was no reality to this and after I took a little nap I was going to feel better. This was a dream anyway.

The three of us sat at the dinner table later that day. Dad's wife chattered about her shopping and what she did all day. I played with the food on my plate and stole glances at my father, who seemed to be the same as usual. Nothing had happened at all. It was a dream.

Except that night, during our walk, Dad pulled me into a darkened alley and pinned me against the wall. My heart was racing. He told me how much he loved me. He was attracted to me, his own daughter, and wanted nothing more than to share his love with me. More than anything, he wanted me to understand his love and to let him share it with me.

I stuttered, not knowing what to say. I could see the intensity of his love in his eyes. These feelings were real. So were mine. Nothing else mattered. I loved this man. I loved him with my entire being and no one was going to deny us sharing our love. A great sense of relief came over me as I admitted this to myself. I told Dad that I did understand him and I wanted to share in his love and that, incredible as it was, I loved him, too, exactly as he loved me.

"That makes me so happy," he said. He brought his lips to mine and kissed me deeply, lovingly. A slow heat was starting to build inside me. That was all I ever wanted, to make my father happy. With some reluctance, he broke our kiss, and we went home.

As if it were yesterday, I remember Christmas in LA. On Christmas Eve, it was raining. I was missing the snow I was used to but also enjoying the fact I was not in winter clothes. We dressed in our best and went out to a posh restaurant for dinner. Happy in my body and in my new found love, I had bought a new dress. One of those little black cocktail dresses with the short hem and low neckline, worn with high heels and no stockings. Shaved smooth and always tan, who needs stockings in LA?

Dinner was delicious, but even more delicious was knowing that seeing me in this dress was making Dad excited. I looked good and knew it. I could feel the glances of the men I passed along the way. I could also feel my father's thigh pressed against mine as we sat in the booth around the table. My breath caught when I felt his hand slide up the inside of my thigh, almost touching the little black panties I had on. When I dared to look at my father, I could see the lust in his eyes. As dinner moved along, the family talked and ate and never noticed the tension building between my father and I.

What seemed like hours later, we went home. Dad's wife laughed at the two of us when we wanted to stay up and watch movies. She was tired and went to bed. I still felt good wearing my dress and did not change. Dad and I settled on the couch with the TV on, watching old Christmas movies, enjoying the quiet time cuddling.

While Dad's wife slept soundly, dreaming of her Christmas presents to be, I was in the living room getting mine. Dad pulled me into his lap and started kissing me. He loved my dress, saying I looked so sexy in it. He started kissing my neck and caressing my thighs, slowly inching his way up. My hands were around Dad's neck, teasing the short hairs there. I gasped when his fingers felt my panties. They were so wet. I hadn't realized just how aroused I was for Dad.

He pulled the back zipper of my dress down and it fell off my shoulders, revealing my little black strapless bra. Dad kissed the skin down my neck and over my chest until he was able to take this bra and pull it down.

Exposed to the air and filled with passion, my nipples were instantly hard. Dad licked at them and I was on fire. Sitting in Dad's lap, stretched out on the couch, I was all his. I closed my eyes and my head fell back, letting his hot mouth claim my breasts and make them his own. His tongue swirled around my taught nipples while his hand stroked and kneaded the flesh. I moaned with lust.

Dad shushed me and kissed me deeply, moving his hand down my ribs and past my flat tummy. He cupped my sex with his hand and used a finger to move aside my panties and enter my wet pussy. I gasped with the pleasure of it. At this moment, and forever, I belonged to this man.

Dad continued to suck at my nipples while he fingered my soaking pussy. I was lost to his touch and nothing else mattered. Dad was shifting, slowly moving until I was lying on the couch, beneath him. He was whispering his love to me, telling me of his need.

How he managed it, I don't know, but he had unbuckled his pants and his hard cock was out. I reached for him and for the first time felt my father's cock, hard just for me. Feeling him in my hand, I stroked and caressed his shaft, learning the feel of it, loving him for it.

I was so aroused that I could feel my own juices dripping from me. I begged him as I pulled and stretched his cock, bringing him closer to my aching pussy. I needed him inside me. Dad entered me, slowly, both of us savoring the exquisite feel of our first joining. When he was completely buried in my hot pussy, Dad held still and kissed me. My pussy was so tight around him; I could feel his throbbing need. There was no other thought than to feel the sensations of this beautiful union.

I moved a little, giving the signal to continue. Dad starting slowly moving in an out of my hot, tight pussy, enjoying the friction this caused us. The pace and the tension built quickly. It wasn't long before he was thrusting hard into me and I bucked against him in return. I could feel his cock swelling, getting ready to cum, and the thought of my own father filling me with his hot sperm sent me over the edge. With a short cry, I came, squeezing and pulling at the cock inside me, causing my father to cum. I could feel him filling me with his love and became dizzy with the intensity.

We continued to make slow, hot love that Christmas Eve. It was incredible and beyond what words can describe when I felt him burst his seed inside me once more. With a final slow, wet kiss goodnight, I went to bed.

After I had cleaned up, I couldn't sleep. The intensity with which we loved each other and the forbidden yet profoundly loving act that happened between us kept me awake. I watched the sunrise of Christmas Morning pour over the mountains from the window of my bedroom. My love for Dad was as beautiful as that. I knew how special this was, how special I was. This was our precious Christmas Gift to one another. Nothing else would ever compare.

Thank you, dear readers, for allowing me to share this story with you. Please let me know how much you enjoyed it by voting and sending me a reply. I appreciate that!< />

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