Chloe - A Father and Daughter Story

He reached a hand down and gripped his shaft with practised familiarity - wanking had been all that was on offer for the past three or four months. The head of his cock was seeping juices and he spread them over the head and shaft, relishing the feeling of slipperyness, the simulation of a cunt.

He tried to think about Carol as he masturbated slowly with long strokes. But thoughts of his daughter intruded, no matter how forcibly he tried to suppress them. I mustn't think about my daughter he groaned as the feeling from his cock grew stronger, more intense. But all he could see in his mind was his daughter's hand on her pussy, her long middle finger sliding inside... His orgasm burst through his nervous system and his cock jerked as he spurted thick ropes of spunk onto his pyjamas and the underside of the quilt. Throwing back the duvet, her looked over to where Chloe had lain. The light in the bedroom was stronger now, strong enough to see the damp patch approximately where her bum would have been. So she had masturbated. He looked at the strands of semen on the quilt and on his pyjamas. The whole lot would have to go into the wash, now.

Chloe wasn't sure what response she had expected from her actions that early Sunday morning, but she was definitely disappointed when her father showed no reaction at all. He must have known, she told herself, she'd groaned as she came. And why else would he have stripped the bed later that morning?

But actually, she admitted to herself a few days later, there was a change; her dad was definitely more cheerful. Not the jovial, fun-loving man he'd been before his marriage went wrong, but definitely happier than he'd been directly after mum left. Interesting.

Frank would have agreed with this, though he would not have been able to bring himself to explain why. Every time inappropriate thoughts of his daughter pushed their way to the front of his mind, he pushed them firmly back into the storage area. But they were there, a big, dark thing. And strangely, the presence of this thing was as uplifting as it was confusing and frightening. In the small hours, as he lay awake in bed, conscious of the empty space beside him, he sometimes allowed the thing to approach, to let him see it, assess it. Because in the final analysis, if his own daughter was attracted to him to the extent that she would make some sort of approach, then perhaps he wasn't the repulsive, worthless creature that his wife's desertion had made him feel. And that was comforting. Reassuring.

But what, Frank asked himself as he lay awake and listened to a lorry rumble past in the distance, did Chloe think was going to happen? He was her father and it would be against the law. It was unthinkable, obviously. And what about her boyfriend from the Garden Centre, Tom? Frank had met him a few times and thought he was ok. A bit wet maybe. Not really the sort of boy he'd want marrying Chloe. She could do much better with her looks and figure and personality.

And then he'd think about her figure, naked under his duvet, touching herself, rubbing her clit as her mother had done. And he would grow hard and he would stroke his cock and end up masturbating, night after night, the images in his head as he climaxed becoming more vivid, more centred on his daughter. Eventually, one early morning, he gasped, 'Oh, Chloe!' as he squirted his come onto his belly. Something had to be done.

Chloe was biding her time, waiting for the following Sunday, when she would bring him tea in bed again. How it would pan out she didn't know, yet. She would play it by ear. If she did make a move on her father, what was the worst that could happen, she asked herself? He would probably just tell her not to be so foolish and that would be that. It's not like my father is trying to seduce me, she told herself. That would be a more serious situation altogether. As it was it could be seen as a teenaged girl's dizzy infatuation with her masculine father, although Chloe knew her feelings ran much deeper and stronger than that.

In the meantime, life at the farmhouse went on much as it had before, albeit with a hint of tension in the air. Chloe was determined to keep up a gentle traction in her pursuit of her father and so she made a point of watching TV with him most evenings and snuggling into the crook of his arm at the slightest hint of an invitation. And as the days went by towards Sunday, Frank's arm seemed, to Chloe, to invite her earlier and earlier in the evening.

There was no doubt that Frank was, by now, getting an indecent thrill from the situation. He had reached that stage where he was persuading himself that hugging his daughter for an hour or more in the evenings was perfectly normal as long as things didn't get out of hand. He would be firm if Chloe ever hinted that she wanted more than a normal, loving daughter/father relationship. But he was kidding himself. Didn't he have a shrewd idea that she'd come to his bed on Sunday morning again and probably masturbate again? And didn't he get a raging erection as he sat holding Chloe to his chest? And didn't he imagine her naked as he masturbated, sometimes two or three times a night? He was struggling to manage the dichotomy between sexual desire and parental responsibility, like many a father before him. At least he'd stopped thinking about his wife.

On Saturday evening Chloe and her father watched Brief Encounter, an old black and white weepy that always had Chloe sniffing and even moved Frank as the final, heart-breaking scenes unfolded. It had, of course, been Chloe's choice. She wanted as much intimacy on the settee with her father as possible before she made her move on Sunday morning. And she got it; Frank held her tight as Celia Johnson bade a tearful farewell to Trevor Howard. He stroked her arm as she blew her nose and as the credits rolled he kissed the top of her chestnut hair, something he hadn't done for years.

Frank stood up, thumbing the remote control to turn the television off. 'I am so tired,' he admitted, stretching and yawning.

'Would you like a cup of tea in bed again in the morning?' asked Chloe, softly.

There was a pause of a few seconds. Frank stood mute and Chloe's heart raced. She hadn't planned to ask, just to do it. But now, if her dad said yes, wasn't that tantamount to an invitation for other things?

'That would be nice,' her father said, eventually, smiling. But his own heart was racing and his bowels had turned to water because his thinking was very similar to his daughter's and he had just said yes.

Frank slept badly that night, tormented by the conflicting demons of guilt and desire. He thought that a line was likely to be crossed by his daughter in the morning and he was by no means certain that he would be able to resist. Did he even want to? It had been months since he shared intimacy with his wife and he was aching for the touch of a female hand, the feel of lips against his, the exquisite sensation of penetration... He reached for his erect penis, straining against the waistband of his pyjamas. Why shouldn't he have some pleasure? Why the hell not? Chloe was an adult, now. If that's what she wanted. And what he wanted...

He was wide awake and fretful by seven-thirty in the morning. Lying on his back and staring into the gloom when the light tap came on the bedroom door and Chloe walked in wearing a dressing gown and slippers. It was mid-December now and the mornings were cold and the central heating didn't come on until eight.

His eyes followed her around the room as she put the mugs of tea down, kicked off her slippers and shrugged off the dressing gown. His guts contracted as he saw that underneath she was wearing a thigh-length negligee in a dark colour, indiscernible in the gloom. Without waiting for an invitation, she flipped back a corner of the duvet and climbed into bed beside him. Frank's heart raced and he felt a lump in his throat but his daughter hadn't finished yet.

'Can I have a hug, Dad?' she asked snuggling up to him and putting her head on his chest. 'It was freezing downstairs.'

As if in a dream he found himself putting his left arm around his daughter's shoulders, his hand on the soft, bare skin of her arm. As if in a dream his right arm went around her, his hand on her back, feeling the silky material of the negligee, the duvet covering them both in a warm embrace.

'Mmm, that's nice,' whispered Chloe. Her hand started to stroke her father's chest, very lightly and with small, circular movements. Inside she was feeling light-headed and hot, despite what she'd said about being cold. The heat of desire was upon her, there would never be a better opportunity.

Chloe, too had slept badly, resisting the urge to masturbate, knowing that the need for release would be correspondingly higher in the morning and might drive her to cross barriers that otherwise she might baulk at. The negligee had been a last-minute inspiration, coming to her as she stood in her pyjamas in the kitchen, waiting for the kettle to boil. She'd bought it in town the previous summer, when thoughts of Toby had occupied her mind. Well, that hadn't worked out but maybe it wouldn't be a wasted purchase after all.

Amazed at her courage, but fearful all the same, she found the top button of her father's pyjamas top and undid it, slipping her hand into the warmth underneath, feeling his chest hair under her searching fingers, hearing his intake of breath.

Frank was hard, achingly erect, alternately hot and cold, his stomach doing somersaults as he felt his daughter's slender hand explore his chest, skin on skin. He could feel her slim body pressed against him, feel her erect nipple even though his thick pyjama material. There could be no mistake now regarding his daughter's intentions. The only question was what was he going to do about it?

Almost reluctantly, but unable to stop himself, he started stroking his daughter's back with his right hand, relishing the feel of her firm body and the satin material beneath his big, farmer's fingers. Chloe sighed and wriggled against him and he slid his left hand down her arm, and onto the small of her back, feeling the beginnings of the swell of her small buttocks and stopping in fear.

Chloe's heard thudded in her chest. Surely her father must be able to feel it, must be aware of how aroused she was, how much she wanted him. She curled the fingers of her left hand and gently scratched his chest with her fingernails.

'Are you warm enough now, Chloe?' he croaked.

'Mmm, it's delicious,' she whispered, her eyes closed, all other senses on full alert. 'It's lovely having you hold me and stroke me like that, Daddy.'

Frank felt his guts turn to ice and, almost against his will, he found himself inching his hand down onto his daughter's silken-clad buttocks.

Chloe took a deep breath. 'Don't be afraid to touch me, Daddy,' she said softly, undoing another button, 'it's what I want.' There, she'd said it!

The atmosphere was electric; both daughter and father felt that they were on the edge of a chasm. Frank wanted to jump into the abyss but feared the fall, and the landing, the taboo of incest strong within his moral framework. But the desire for his daughter, the urge to know her sexually, to banish the months of loneliness, was very strong.

Chloe was holding out her hand to her father, urging him to jump with her. Willing him to make the next move, now that she had opened her heart to him.

Frank's right hand slid down his daughter's back, feeling the ridges of her spine, then up again, and round to the side, his thumb brushing lightly against the swell of her breast, squashed against his chest.

Chloe undid the last two buttons of her father's pyjama top and slid the palm of her hand over the flat, muscled expanse of his stomach, her fingers tracing the line of hair that ran down to his navel. Frank grunted as he felt her nails lightly graze his skin, felt her hand go lower, touching the waistband of his pyjama bottoms.

Chloe squirmed against her father, sensing the cracks developing in the dam, the water starting to seep through, the final bursting open and uncontrollable torrent not far away. Her pussy was on fire; itching and wet and needing to be touched. She pressed her loins to her father and flexed her hips, feeling the electric thrill run through her body, making her lightheaded.

Frank's heart was like a sledgehammer in his chest, there was a lump in his throat and the air in the bedroom seemed to have grown dark and thick. He knew there was no stopping now. It was time to step off the edge of the chasm. He slid his left hand lower still and cupped his daughter's buttock, gently squeezing the firm orb of flesh, pulling the satin negligee up slowly with his fingers, feeling her bare cheek under his hand.

Chloe moaned softly, partly an automatic reaction to the sensation of pleasure and anticipation and partly to signal to her father that it was ok. She kissed his bare chest and slid her hand under his waistband, her knuckles brushing his erection, making him gasp into the gloom of the bedroom. She felt his hand caress her bum, his finger stroking the cleft between her cheeks and she shivered and pressed her crotch harder into his hip.

Her hand sought her father's rigid penis, grasping the thick, veined shaft, slippery with his seminal fluid. Christ her dad was big! Much bigger than Tom. Would she be able to take him?

Frank's head went back and he groaned and pressed his daughter's body to him, using his hands and arms to rub her up and down against him, feeling her heat and the satin of her negligee, kissing the top of her head, smelling his daughter's delicious body odour, light and entrancing.

'What do you want, Chloe?' he found himself stuttering.

'Everything, Daddy,' she whispered back. 'I want everything that Mummy had.'

He felt a roaring in his ears as the dam burst, desire surging through him like flood water. He pulled Chloe up to him, his mouth seeking hers, finding her soft lips, feeling them open for him, sliding his tongue into his daughter's mouth and feeling her suck on it, work her mouth against his while her hand worked his penis, stroking, smearing his lubrication, rubbing his foreskin up and down over his plum, making him writhe with pleasure.

Chloe pressed her mouth to her father's and kissed him like she kissed Tom in the privacy of her bedroom, or his. They'd kissed for hours, mouths super-sensitised, lips tingling. Now she applied all that she had learned to stimulating her daddy. She tasted his saliva, ran her tongue over his teeth and dabbed it against his tongue. She kissed his cheeks and chin, feeling the early morning stubble, then back to his mouth, wet and full-lipped, just like hers. And as she kissed her father she masturbated him gently, keeping him on edge. She'd learned how to do that with Tom, too. How to make it last half an hour instead of five minutes.

It was unconditional surrender for Frank. He knew he was going to have full sexual intercourse with his daughter; the thought was almost too wonderful to bear and he pushed aside how he might feel afterwards, when his orgasm had died away and he was left to contemplate what he had done as daylight filled the bedroom. In the meantime the feeling of her hand on his cock was exquisite; he didn't want her to stop but he also wanted more. He parted her buttocks with a thick index finger, seeking her pussy.

Chloe felt the intruding finger and knew they were approaching the endgame. She felt it slide past her anus towards her pussy and she opened her legs to allow him in.

'Would you like to touch me, Daddy?' she whispered in his ear.

Frank released his daughter and she rolled onto her back, letting go of his cock. He turned onto his side and kissed her face, looking up at him. It wasn't yet full light outside and the curtains were thick, but her could see her achingly pretty face and her mass of chestnut hair spread over the pillow. He eased the duvet off his daughter, exposing her slender figure, the negligee up around her waist. The room was warm now, the central heating making the old radiator by the bed tick and gurgle.

Slowly and deliberately Chloe opened her legs in invitation. Her cunt was on fire, leaking juices down her thighs. She had never before experienced such arousal. And her father hadn't even touched her yet, with those big, thick daddy fingers...

Frank reached down slowly and cupped her hairy vulva in his big hand, squeezing gently and making Chloe groan with pleasure. 'Yes,' Daddy,' she whispered up at him and he lowered his head to hers, finding her mouth with his as he found her labia with one forefinger and parted them, sliding his digit into her liquid depths, feeling the heat and the silken fluid and the walls of her cunt clamping him with youthful vigour.

Chloe groaned into her father's mouth, louder this time. She arched her back and opened her legs wide, asking for more. She felt her father add another of his big, work-thickened fingers and push the two right inside her, as deep as they would go. Christ, she thought, his two fingers are bigger than Tom's cock. The sensation was mind-blowing, and not just because it was her father.

Frank slid his fingers in and out of his daughter's pussy with a gentle and practised ease. Carol had loved him doing this, almost as much as she liked his cock in her, and he had become an expert at bringing her off with his fingers. Now he applied those lessons to his daughter. He used his two fingers as one, sliding deep into her cunt, relishing the well of her secretions, hot and wet and silky, relishing the way her muscles gripped his finger, tighter than Carol had ever been. He curled his fingers and stroked the walls of her vagina, seeking that spot that had made Chloe's mother purr with pleasure.

Chloe put her arms around her father's shoulders and pressed her mouth to his as his fingers penetrated her. She'd let Tom finger her pussy a few times but his post-adolescent fumbling had been a mere shadow of what her father was doing to her. He'd found her G-spot and was stroking it with the tips of his big daddy fingers, just the way she liked it, the way she did it to herself in bed at night. She arched her back and gasped, her mouth still fastened on his. Christ, she thought, I'll come the moment he touches my clit.

As if reading her mind, Frank slid his fingers out of her cunt and up her slit, seeking her pearl in its little hood. He teased one fingertip over the little bud and then slid his fingers back inside her, feeling the electric thrill through her body, feeling her leg muscles go taut with desire and her fingers press into his shoulder muscles.

God, the bastard was teasing her! She dug her nails into his shoulders and groaned. 'Make me come, Daddy,' she whispered in his ear.

Frank pressed one fingertip to his daughters clitoris and started masturbating her with little circular motions. He knew she was close and thank God for that. He was weak with desire, close to ejaculating himself, his cock rigid and uncomfortable in his pyjamas.

Chloe felt the bubble rise. She broke the kiss and pressed her head back into the pillow, a wave of intense pleasure sweeping through her loins, racing up her spine and making her arch her back again, fireworks exploding in her brain. 'Have me now,' she hissed while the storm was still upon her.

Before he could think about it, Frank was between her legs, kneeling, pulling down his pyjama bottoms to his knees, dimly aware that he probably looked ridiculous but filled now with an insatiable urge for his daughter. To penetrate her, to fuck her, to come inside her tight cunt. She lay beneath him, legs wide open, arms spreadeagled in invitation.

Gripping the thick shaft of his cock with one hand, and supporting himself on one arm, Frank lowered himself to his daughter. She looked suddenly thin and vulnerable lying there, her hips too narrow to accommodate his girth. But the madness was on him. He pressed his big cockhead against her labia and she gasped, 'Yes, Daddy!' He pressed harder and her lips parted and father penetrated daughter in a long, slow stroke that felt like all the good times in his life rolled into one and distilled into a blinding sensation of lust and love.