Those Days of...Ch. 16-20

"Like every other school, we had an end of year Formal for the school-leavers, ours was to be at one of the better hotels in the city, sit-down dinner, a good dance band, dinner suits for the guys, the full bit. I knew exactly the dress I wanted to make for myself, and how much the material would cost, a lot. I started talking to Mum about it months ahead of time and although she liked the drawings I'd done she thought it was too sophisticated for me. And when she found out what it would cost said quite flatly 'no', and no matter what tactics I used, she just wouldn't budge. So I decided to wait until an evening when she was out visiting some friends and then have a go at Dad.

I had a study desk in my room that Dad had set up for me a couple of years earlier and which, to his annoyance I hardly ever used, preferring to work in the living room so I could keep an eye on TV and feel part of the family. But that evening I set everything up, all my drawings and sketches and, leaving the door open, made it look as though I was hard at it. Before I'd started work I'd had a shower and put just a light robe on over bra and panties and when he finally came by an hour or so later to see what I was doing, as I knew he would eventually, and looked down over my shoulder, the first thing he probably saw was an eyeful of the cleavage between my then fully developed breasts.

I got him talking about the project I was working on but as there wasn't another chair for him to sit on he had to remain standing beside me and I got the distinct feeling that he spent as much time looking down the front of me as he did looking down at my designs. As I shifted papers, working my way towards the final design for the dress I wanted to make, the robe worked its way more open, gradually exposing more and more of me.

Although when I started he had made various comments about different designs, the longer he stood there the quieter he got, and when I looked up from time to time I saw that his face was taking on a strangely tense look. Then when I then glanced sideways, at his crotch, I felt sure I could see a tell-tale bulge growing there and I recognised that I wasn't just getting to him, I was turning him on.

Realising that gave me a funny feeling too but I pressed on with what I was showing him, taking my time in getting to the final design. And when I did I got up, held it up beside me in one hand while using the other to show how the material would be cut to fit me, and in doing that of course the silly robe fell open even wider, so he got to see even more of me. I tried to ignore the effect that had on him, the way his eyes stared, his hands clenched and his tongue nervously moistened his lips, just talked on about the importance of using exactly the right material, the ridiculously expensive price and that I'd never be able to justify the cost of it.

When I'd finished my pitch I re-tightened my robe, sat down, smiled up at him and said I'd have to get on with the rest of my work. He seemed reluctant to go and I noticed that as he walked out, he left my door wide open behind him. For the next twenty minutes or so he seemed to just prowl around the place, passing my door from time to time and glancing in at me. Then I heard him go into their bed-room and after a couple of minutes my curiosity got the better of me, I got up, went quietly down the corridor and peeked round the half-open door.

He was standing half-turned away from me, looking down at something on the dressing table. But at that moment I wasn"t the slightest bit concerned with what he was looking at, all I could think of was his cock, his big, fully erect cock. He'd undone his trousers, got it out, and was slowly masturbating himself.

I watched for a few seconds, unable to drag my eyes away from it. It was incredible, for one thing it looked far bigger than I thought it would be, certainly bigger than any of those on the boys I'd known up to then. But not only bigger, it somehow looked, I don't know how to explain it properly, more mature, more 'used'. It's difficult to put into words, but it looked terrific and very, very exciting. But the longer I stared at it and what he was doing to himself the more I wanted to see it in close-up, and not only see it, but touch and fondle it.

I don't know if I actually made a sound, maybe he just sensed me watching him, but suddenly he turned and our eyes met. There was an almost haunted look in his, as though he was in some sort of terrible pain. I wanted more than anything else to relieve that pain, and found myself moving towards him. As I got up close and stood in front of him, I looked down, his hands had of course dropped to hang loosely at his sides and his cock stuck straight out, it"s head a dark glossy red and the rest straining and twitching.

Glancing sideways I finally saw what he had been looking at on the dressing table when he started to masturbate. It was a photograph of me, one of several taken a couple of months earlier at a friend's pool. That particular picture had been taken from the pool-side as I climbed up out of the water, the camera pointing down at me, straight down between my breasts. From that angle they looked even bigger than they actually were but I realised that the view was similar to what he must have had while he was standing beside me just a little earlier.

Knowing that he had got so aroused by just the sight of me gave me a funny, shivery feeling, and as I looked back down at his enormous cock and lifted one hand towards it, I think I said something like. 'Is this my fault? Did I do this to you? I"m sorry, let me help you, please.' Then I looked up for a moment and saw that his eyes were screwed shut, and he was shaking his head slowly from side to side. I could tell he was being torn apart, part of him desperately wanted release, and for that he"d need my touch, but another knew his daughter shouldn't do that.

Something powerful inside me drove me on and I lifted one hand, slipping my finger-tips very lightly along its length, feeling its heat, its knotted hardness, shivering slightly at the sensations the feel of it sent running through me. Then, without another word, I dropped to my knees in front of him.

First I undid his belt then unzipped and slid his trousers and pants down so I could see and reach all of him. A heady, musky odour filled my nostrils, the smell of his arousal was itself exciting and although the size and engorged state of his rock-hard, quivering cock was the centre of my attention I couldn"t help also noticing how tightly swollen his balls were.

Again I used just the tips of my fingers, running them lightly up and down the shaft, over and around the polished head, then cupped his balls with my other hand and began to stroke and gently fondle them. Using all the experience I had gained with the boys I had already done it to, I curled my fingers around the shaft just behind the head then began to slowly slide them backwards and forwards, keeping a light but firm grip of his balls, watching the way the head bulged and darkened in colour as what I was doing steadily increased the pressure that was building inside him.

After a minute or two I noticed a small, clear drop of pre-cum appear in the eye and leaning slightly forward, used the tip of my tongue to lick it off. Up to then, although I could tell from its increasing tension that his body was responding to what I was doing for him, I guessed from the fact that he hadn"t made a sound or given me some other indication of his enjoyment, that inside he was still desperately trying to control himself. But that first little lick must have really got to him, overwhelming whatever little resistance was left, because as his cock jerked higher he gave a deep moan of pleasure and thrust his hips forward, as though finally urging me to continue.

Repeating that little lick, then teasing the opening and licking off the other drops that appeared, I soon progressed to lapping my tongue over and around the entire head. All that time I was also keeping both hands busy, one curled around the shaft, stroking up and down its length, the other rolling and lightly squeezing his balls. So it wasn"t long before I heard his groans getting progressively stronger and felt the muscles in his thighs and stomach tightening. Recognising those signals I eased myself a little closer then, moistening my lips before slipping my tongue underneath it, I opened my mouth and slid my lips down over the silky surface of his massively bulging cock-head.

The thrills that triggered finally made him thrust forward and, opening my mouth even wider, I took it all in. But though I longed to feel him actually fucking my mouth and I could sense that was exactly what he wanted to do too, something still held him back and although his body continued to jerk I could tell that it would be up to me to actually get him off.

Of course I was very happy to do just that and in a way was really sorry that it only took another minute or two. The combination of my hands fondling, squeezing and firmly stroking, and my mouth bobbing and eagerly sucking, quickly drove the pressure inside him up to and then above boiling point. Then, as his body arched, he clasped his hands behind himself and with a series of noisy grunts, he exploded.

I heard myself gurgling happily as my hands and mouth urged him on, triggering one blast after another, each one shooting a gout of thick, creamy jism deep into the back of my frantically swallowing throat. I remember thinking, 'I'm doing what up until now only Mum has done for him, I'm making him as happy as she can.'

When he was finally finished I got some tissues and wiped him dry, then sat on the edge of the bed watching as he dressed himself again, wondering what would happen now. He took a long time about it, re-gaining his breath, his eyes avoiding mine as he obviously wrestled with his conflicting feelings about what we had done. After what seemed an absolute age he looked at me, then came and sat down beside me and, taking hold of my still slightly sticky hand, said.

'You know that what we've done is very wrong don't you.'

I probably had a pretty sheepish look as I nodded in response.

'It must never happen again, and nobody must know about it, you understand that don't you.'

Again I just nodded.

'We must never, ever even think of doing anything like that again must we.'

But with that I found my voice and replied. 'Why not? We're not hurting anyone, I want to make you just as happy as Mum does, I love you too you know.'

He just hadn't anticipated that kind of reply, he looked at me incredulously, just too stunned for words, and as I continued explaining my feelings his eyes stared deep into mine, as though hoping to find an answer there. 'I'm not a little kid any more." I said. "I know what I'm doing, and won't do anything silly when Mum's around. You know you can trust me. I just want to love you the same way she does, have you love me the way you do her. I think it's silly to say that's wrong.

Anyway.' I added finally. 'I'm not your real daughter, you know, flesh and blood, so it's not the same thing, incest I mean. In a way I'm just a young woman who happens to live in the same house with you.'

The conversation didn't get any further than that because just then we both heard the sounds of Mum coming home and I made a frantic scramble back to my room, leaving him to face her as normally as he could manage. I closed the door behind me, sat down at my desk and tried to look as though I was working, I hadn't resolved the question of the material for the dress, but I had stirred up a host of feelings inside myself. And later, after Mum had looked in to see how I was progressing, the memory of the sight, smell and feel of Luke"s cock, as it pumped his jism into my mouth, aroused me so much that I had to relieve it by masturbating, and couldn"t believe the intensity of the climax that followed."

Chapter 20

Getting Closer to Dad

"Would you like some more coffee Roger?"

Her question startled me, I had been lost in thought, very disturbing thought. But I pulled myself together sufficiently to say that I'd love some and that gave me a minute or two to try and settle myself, before she carried on her story.

It wasn't just what she was telling me that was getting me stirred up, although the thought of having her do what she had just described was arousing enough anyway. It was the way she was telling it. As she talked I could see from the look on her face that it was as though she was re-living the experiences, that she was feeling at least some of the excitement the original event had given her.

She returned with fresh coffee, settled back down again and, as though there had been no interruption, continued. "Nothing happened for the next few days, other than the feeling that Dad was staring at me in a way I had never experienced before. Whenever we were all together, talking or eating, his eyes rarely met mine, instead they watched my mouth, my lips, and I guessed he was remembering the sight and feel of them slipping over his cock-head. At other times, usually when Mum wasn't in the same room, I felt he was stripping me with his eyes, wanting to see more of what he had so far only had glimpses of.

And I admit that I found myself being excited by both the thought of him doing that, and of his reactions to the thrills I had already given him.

But although there were times when the two of us were briefly alone in the house together, it was more than a week before there was another opportunity for anything to happen, when again Mum went out visiting friends, and we both knew she would be gone for a couple of hours at least.

When Mum left, I was sprawled out on the floor watching TV in the shorts and T-shirt I had been in all day, Dad was in the kitchen, fixing a snack before his favourite programme started. Even though he was seeing nothing different to what he had been able to all day, the moment he came into the room and looked down at me, I saw the same intense look in his eyes that I had seen from time to time during recent days, as though he was trying hard to see beneath my clothes, see me stripped, naked.

Neither of us said a word, not really knowing what was going on in his head I didn't know if he wanted me to start something or if he was hoping, praying I wouldn't. I watched the TV, hearing him eating, somehow knowing his eyes were flicking back and forth between the screen and my body. And although I was watching I was seeing nothing, my head was too full of the images from that previous time, feeling the warm tingling between my legs starting to spread slowly through the rest of my body as they became sharper and more vivid.

By about three quarters of the way through the programme I decided I was going to have to do something, so I got up and, as I left him to see the ending, simply said. 'I'm going to have a shower and get ready for bed.'

As he looked up and his eyes briefly met mine I saw in them the same haunted look I had seen when I found him masturbating himself in the bed-room, a look I wanted to help him lose, and knew I could only do that by relieving him of the underlying pain itself.

I went into my bed-room and stripped, stopping to look at myself in the mirror, trying to see me the way I hoped he soon would. Obviously my breasts were what he really wanted to see, and maybe handle, even kiss. There were times when I thought they were too big, too obvious, but although they were big there wasn't a trace of flabbiness about them and I felt sure when he saw them he wouldn't be disappointed. And the rest of me was O.K. too, my tummy flat, by hips and bottom nicely curved, and although my legs weren't as long as Mum's they were still pretty good.

I left my robe behind in the bed-room, padded down the hall to the bath-room and, leaving the door open, turned on the shower and stepped in. The sting of the water on my skin relieved some of the itch that had been growing inside me and I stood under it for some time, bending and turning so it reached and wetted every part of me before I began to thoroughly lather myself. Then as I replaced the soap in the holder I turned, and saw him standing in the door-way, his eyes wide, staring at me through the steam. Even from that distance I could see the intensity of the look in his eyes, but knew that it was again going to be up to me to make him take the first step.

'Come on in too, you can scrub my back for me.' I said, using one, still soapy hand to push open the screen and beckon him. To my delighted surprise he did, and I watched as he slowly, almost reluctantly began to get undressed too.

For his age he still had a good body and when we had been at friends' pools or the beach together I had often compared his with those of my other friends' fathers. Unlike many of them his muscles were still well defined, he had no trace of a pot-belly, and his legs were as good as those of a much younger man. But seeing him undressing there in the bath-room was quite different to seeing him beside a pool. Suddenly his body wasn't just another adult male's to be looked at in an almost clinical way, and even before he'd stripped off his underpants I found myself becoming sexually aroused, felt that tingling feeling quickly growing and spreading through my body.

When he was down to nothing but his briefs I saw the evidence of what had been going through his mind, the bulge his cock made was unmistakable. But when he slipped them down and stepped out of them I saw that although long and fat he wasn't yet fully aroused. He looked across at me and his eyes met mine, they were filled with such a sadly pleading look that for a moment I was tempted to stop what I had started.

But what was happening inside my head and body were stronger than that momentary thought and again I encouraged him to join me, and as he stepped under the spray it was though the water washed away a layer of guilt. His hands rose to my breasts, cupping them, gently squeezing them, slipping his thumbs up across their tender and quickly stiffening nipples.

Having got him to take the first and then the second step I could tell there would be no way of stopping him, not that I wanted to, what his hands and fingers were doing for me were magic. His caresses made what I'd had from the boys I'd known until then seem like nothing more than inept gropes. He turned me, I felt his swiftly rising cock against the back of my legs, then he held me against himself and his hands began to roam all over me.

He played with my breasts for an age and his caresses soon had them swollen, their tips hard and spiky, then, keeping them that way with one hand, he slid the other down across my stomach. Then, shifting himself so he could reach further round me, he slipped his fingers down through the wet mat of hair.

As he moved I'd felt his by then fully erect cock spring up in the space between us and when he pulled me backwards again so he could get his hand down between my legs, the rigid length of it slipped into the crack between my buttocks and the feel of its hardness pressing against me added to the thrills his fingers were producing as they teased the already swollen outer lips of my pussy. That combination, one hand rolling and nipping my nipples, his cock jammed hard up against my arse, his skilful fingers teasing my pussy soon had me on the verge of climaxing, and when he then slid his lower hand upwards and I felt the flat part of two of his fingers slipping over the ridge of my clitoris there was absolutely nothing I could do to stop it from welling up from deep inside me.

As he heard me cry out in sheer delight he pulled me even harder back against himself and his fingers flashing lightly up and down over the source of that feeling, urging me on to an absolutely stupendous orgasm that rolled through me. Each wave taking me higher than the last, until finally my body felt like nothing more than a shuddering mass of electrified jelly.