Dating Dad

Our conversations mutated to the point where we talked regularly about what we would do with one another, or to one another, when we met. He fantasized regularly about tying me up, ravaging me. He divulged to me that it had been years since he had been intimate, or sexual, and had only ever been with one woman.

Sometimes his voice would become heavy and solemn when he spoke of Mom. On occasion I would be unable to resurrect him and bring him back to me in the present. On these nights I found myself terribly depressed. I knew that talking could only do so much, and I wished to hold him. Wrap my arms around him and tell him it was okay to be sad, it was okay to be hurt, that it was terrible watching Mom suffer and that life was terrible. That life wasn't fucking fair. Nothing about fucking any of this was fucking fair. Fuck. I wanted to pull out my fucking hair and scream, I wanted to pound my fists on the ground and throw a tantrum. Fuck!

I couldn't take it anymore. Two years had gone by since we met online. Two years of him knowing me only by my screenname. He even called my Jfoxy over the phone. He didn't even know my name. Two fucking years of me disguising my voice and carrying two phones. Two God damned years of unrelenting sexual needs and desires that I couldn't sate. My fingers and imagination could only stretch me so far.

I remember calling him, breathless, ready to tell him everything, to pour my fucking heart out. When he answered, I lost my nerve. I did however have the nerve to give myself a date to be put out of my misery. I told him, "I'm buying a ticket. I'm coming, let's meet." I will never forget his response.

"If you're ready, then I'm ready."

It's like he knew somehow that I had been waiting. Like we both had been waiting for the time to be right. For something to click into place that made taking our relationship offline, and into the real world. I understood then a pivotal point in our relationship.

My father knew that I was hiding something, he knew that I had been waiting and he never pushed, never asked. In fact he had never even asked for me to share my body with him. Not once, had he ever pushed me into doing anything. It was all me. He respected boundaries, and I pushed them. If ever there was a person to take fully the blame for what was to happen, it would be me. As it was me that hid from the beginning and fabricated everything. I had lied and manipulated. I was proud of the man he was, but I had nothing to be proud about in myself.

My love for him. It had to be enough. I loved him more passionately than any person ever could, I was sure of it. What the fuck is wrong with me? I was ready, I could not live this all consuming lie anymore. I packed my bags, bought a bus ticket and headed 1500 miles to a town I hadn't seen since I was 18, to a father I had abandoned. To present to him myself, a woman, whom he had fallen in love with online. Someone he had shared all of his secrets and private feelings with. Feelings, thoughts, and fantasies that ought to never be shared between father and daughter.

"I'm coming Dad..."

The bus ride was exhaustingly long. The entire time I sat there imagining possibilities and conversations. I ran through every possible scenario. What I would say, what he would say. His anger, his disgust, I had no solution. No magical Halloween mask to wear and hide my identity. No way to tell him that I was a freak, and have him accept me. It was a long trip, longer for my thoughts.

My arrival was depressingly empty. No, not empty, it was anticlimactic. Life is not like in the movies, where your romance grows legs of its own and carries you both off into never never land. I called him. It was bittersweet. I was one town over and had no idea how to present myself to him.

So I called. And told him where to meet me. I fished out my pumps and tight dress, changed in a restaurant and sat in a booth, feeling ridiculous. He had asked me how he would know me. And I told him I was wearing his favorite shoes. What the fuck is wrong with me? Fuck. Fuck. My anxiety was like a rushing river of lava, burning everything in its path.

He walked through the door. Handsome and in the prime of his life. My heart was pounding in my ears, and my mouth was dry. He walked past the entrance and down the only lane between the booths, until he saw me.

He fucking saw me. He fucking looked at me and met my fucking eyes. What the fuck is wrong with me? I saw the confusion on his face, and I got up, anxiously to greet him. He saw my heels, his favorite pumps, he just stared at my feet. And then he stared at me.

I don't recall ever feeling as vulnerable as I did at that moment. And moments later I felt hurt beyond anything I've ever felt before. The pain was so great, that I might have laid my life to its final resting place, had I had something sharp.

He rejected me. I saw the understanding wash over him, the variety of different emotions. Confusion. Hurt. Betrayal. Sorrow. Pain oh so much pain, so much pain that the memory of the face he made, brings me to tears. So many emotions were plainly written on his face.

None of them love. None of them fucking love. None. I wanted my Dad to love me like he loved Jfoxy . Instead he turned and walked away. He just fucking left me there. It was awkward, I felt betrayed, but I knew I shouldn't. It was my own fault. All of it.

I ran. I pulled off my fucking shoes and fucking ran. He was gone, I looked at cars as I ran, and I realised, I didn't even know what he drove. I didn't even know where he fucking lived. I ran down the street barefoot, carrying my shoes and bag. I wanted to fucking scream. My tears fell down my face and I wept. I had nobody, no one, I was alone. I messaged him from jfoxy, I begged him with simple words. "Daddy please don't leave me" he did not respond. I had made it 1500 miles on mere hope and fantasy. What the fuck is wrong with me?

My feet were bruised and scraped, they screamed at me to rest. I found a curb and cried. I cried until I had no more tears, just dry sobbing and self pity. I found a hotel room, and tried not to think about tomorrow, curling up in bed I cried myself to sleep.

I woke in the morning, dreading life. I had a 1500 mile trek home and nothing to look forward to. My whole life had come crashing down around me. Everything I had dreamed of for the past two years had just collapsed. Fuck my life. What was I thinking?

I didn't realise it right away, but if I had stayed up for just a few more precious minutes the night before. I would have seen the message from my Dad. It was not a very long text. He stated simply that out of all his thoughts and worries and concerns, that he felt a great loss. He had been excited about life again. And that had been swept from under him. With an understanding that was past my years. I texted him back, and told him I'm sorry, and that I understood. And I did. I did understand, I felt that loss as well.

I almost didn't trust my senses, he responded right away. I read it and bawled. It said. "Let us meet...princess." A nickname he had used thousands of times. One that I myself had refused to say or think of. One that he knew, would portray to me, more than any essay or sentence.

He still loved me. He still cared. If not a lover, maybe I had gained my father back. My knight.

We met at a club, it was noisy and the music happy and hip. It was a nice setting in the restaurant, the noise made it so we could talk in private, without fear of being overheard. And there was a hotel across the street, a fancy one, I yearned to be staying there, with him. But I would settle for repairing what I had broken, before I limped across the street to find a bed. We sat across from each other, awkwardly talking about nonsense, like we were two teenagers with nothing in common.

He ordered us drinks, it felt odd sitting with my father having a drink. It was warm going down, and much welcomed. It brought a new heat to my ears and cheeks. I smiled at him, and he smiled back. I could feel myself drawn in to him. His whirlpool of emotion and self confidence. He had such a powerful aura and presence, something I had never realised before.

The heat of the drink had softened my edges, and I became a lot less self focused. I wore a sundress, not the slinky body contour one from last night, but a floral form fitting one that I often wore. I had also removed my flats and stored them on the seat next to me. His smiles, and warm gestures and intimate looks drew me in deeper. This was the man I had talked to for hours every night, our awkwardness had abated. He joked, I laughed and giggled, he smiled and I loved.

Without even thinking I stuck my bare foot up and onto his lap. I was utterly shocked, when his hand rested on my ankle. His bare skin, against my own, sent radiant bursts of electricity up my leg. I truly believe he was shocked as well. I do not know that he intended to touch me. But he did. Dad touched me, and it made my heart sing. I remember blushing and averting my eyes, when my eyes returned to his, he was blushing as well. His hand moved across my foot, and his thumb worked at my arch.

He massaged my foot. I sat there transfixed, staring into his eyes, feeling the most relaxed I had in years. I knew then, that everything would be alright between us, and so I let everything go, my walls crumbled, and inhibitions melted away. When his other hand worked itself between my toes, paying attention to each one. I nearly cried. It was so subtle, so sensual, gentle and so loving a message, that the relief was palpable.

We danced. The both of us danced. I can't remember a single face from the club. Just my father's. He was flushed and sweating and happy. The joy in his face was intoxicating. Oh how we danced together.

We ran from the club, hand in hand, refusing to let go of one another, despite our inability to navigate obstacles together. We ran across the street to the fanciest hotel I'd ever been in. We hushed one another, even as both of us giggled, over nothing more than a look that passed between us. We checked in, the clerk at the front, obviously had lost patience with us. But we made it to the room. It was the suite, and was pretty fancy.

I sat on the foot of the bed, nervously smoothing wrinkles out of my favorite dress. And time traveling in my head. Going over everything that has happened, could happen, Or ever will happen. I sat there day dreaming, listening to the water running in the bathroom. Feeling a bit chilly since the sweat on my bare skin had begun to dry. Dad came out of the bathroom, and took my hand. He gently ushered me to my feet, and with my hand in his, and his other hand at the small of my back, guided me to the bath.

He undressed me with reverence, I had never felt so wanted. Each piece of clothing, he removed with a tenderness that nearly broke my heart. I stood there, naked before him, unmolested. I wore only the imprint of my clothing discarded. He worshipped me with his eyes, and helped me into the tub, always the gentlemen. And he bathed me. Washing every inch of my body, supporting me when needed, never lingering longer than was necessary. When he was done, he assisted me out of the tub, and dried me thoroughly. He had touched every inch of my body, and I could feel his powerful attraction.

He went to lead me out of the bathroom, but I stopped, and he halted with a questioning look. I pulled him back to the tub, turning it back on, and began removing his clothes for him. He stood awkwardly, as I unbuttoned his shirt, my hands like balls of lightning, seemed to shock him any time they came into contact with his skin. He would twitch, or jump at the contact. His chest was lightly covered in graying hair, his pecs solid and muscular, his abdomen taut and shaped with a v along his hips. He was the perfect specimen of a man. And I wanted him more than ever.

Dad was trembling as I stood there naked before him, his shirt lay discarded behind him. I knelt and looked up at him.

We held eye contact while I unfastened his belt, and pants, letting them fall around his ankles. His boxers were tented at the front, it was easy to see that he was excited. I removed his boxers, and his cock sprang free, bouncing. I stopped there, careful not to ruin the moment. Standing up, I motioned for the tub, filled with steaming water. I bathed him, as he had bathed me. My gentle cleansing calmed his body, the trembling in his limbs ceased, and he relaxed as I bathed him. When I had finished, I helped him dry and stood up facing him.

He pulled me in gently, and our naked bodies met. The touch of his skin against mine was so magnificent that chills coursed through my body. Between my legs, there was a heat so intense that I had the greatest desire to just spread my legs. My breasts felt heavy against his chest, and my nipples were far more sensitive than ever before. They were squashed almost painfully between us. Our faces met, and his lips were soft against mine. I fell into him, relinquished all control, and sighed, my lips parted to his control. When our tongues met, it was fortuitous that his arms were around me. My legs gave out, and he held me against him with his own strength, for I had none left.

Our kisses became desperate as our breaths grew ragged. Teeth pulled on lips, and his coarse beard against my face, further excited me. I had never before felt the manliness of a beard in such a way. My Dads cock pressed into my stomach, and was a constant reminder of what was to come. The stickiness of his precum grew between us. He broke off our kisses, and lifted me up, cradling me in his arms. I stared at him, and cupped his face in my hands as he carried me to the bedroom.

Not that much long ago, I had sat on this bed, excited for what was to be, and marveled over how far we had come.

Gently he laid me on the bed, my head on the pillow, not unlike so many years ago, when I was still a child. The care and love in his eyes, was enough to feed my soul for years to come.

"Thank you" I said to him.

He looked at me and arched an eyebrow. "For what, honey?"

"For accepting me, I know this-"

"Was it real? ...everything we talked about, was that the real you.?"

I lay there before him, on my back, looking up at him, completely naked, and I laid my soul bare to him.

"It was... " I said it simply "I am in love with you"

For the fourth time in my life, I saw my dad weep. Unlike before, his face was filled with happiness rather than sorrow. Leaning down, he showered me with both his tears and his kisses. His hands roamed the curves and arches of my breasts and stomach. It felt like he was an artist, admiring his creation. I was the art, and he worshipped my lines. My nipples were so erect, that by the time his kisses found them, I nearly orgasmed. I found myself squirm, as if pushing my ass further into the bed, could relieve the monstrous ache between my legs.

He crawled over me, and parted my legs, he stood, gazing between them at my womanhood. And spoke.

"You are so beautiful... so much like your mother."

I smiled, biting my lip, my legs spread wide open, my pussy throbbing with my heartbeat, and so I begged.

"Please daddy... please...."

I squirmed as he knelt before me, placing his lips on my thighs, kissing me tenderly. Kissing his way to the center of my universe.

The heat from his mouth touched me first, I shifted side to side almost in a panic to get closer to him. His kisses had ceased and his breath our only contact, I closed my legs around his head undulating.

His lips, soft, his tongue firm and wet, his teeth sharp but gentle. His mouth parted me, his teeth nibbled and his tongue violated me. Just as I believed that I had reached the pinnacle of pleasure, he wrapped his lips around me and sucked. My back arched and I pressed up and into him.

The sweat on my lower back felt cool as air flowed under me. The pressure of him sucking on my pussy did not cease when he showed me an even higher level of pleasure. My clitoris, caught in his steady sucking pressure, had reached heights of engorgement that I had never known possible, then he flicked it with his tongue.

The pain of it was a pleasure all of its own. He teased it with his tongue, I felt my wetness, mixed with his saliva, trickle down my asshole. I felt the softness of the comforter enveloping me, and the sweat trickling down my body. I felt my body tense and relax, tense and relax, over and over again, as I began to orgasm.

It was like I was a star that had gone supernova, an explosion of such epic proportions, that it falls in on itself, complete oblivion and darkness. Then it super explodes so brightly that time itself shudders.

I fell in on myself, and nearly blacked out, I condensed into a hole the size of a pin, then I super exploded. I lost control of my body, my muscles acted of their own volition. I felt like I was falling. I felt like I was flying. I felt. I fucking felt. I fucking screamed.

Convulsing, I had a death grip on his head. I rocked and turned and held on until I could take no more. I fell backwards onto the bed, breathless, completely spent and exhausted.

Dad crawled up next to me, wrapped me up protectively and held me. He whispered things into my ear, his breath hot, and I could smell my scent on him. He talked for awhile, I panted and rasped, unable to catch my breath.

"That... was impressive, princess."

I laughed, my cheeks feeling bright red.

"I'm so embarrassed right now."

He murmured in my ear "There's nothing to be embarrassed about"

"You just watched me lose complete control of myself."

"I wasn't watching, I was too focused on making you lose control. "

"I can feel your cock Dad." I said giggling, He was pressed firmly between my asscheeks.

"I wasn't trying to hide it." He chuckled.

I rolled out of his embrace, feeling bittersweet, but I had recovered, and there was nothing more that I wanted to do, than taste him. I had fantasized about this moment so many times. It felt awkward and clunky, I giggled like a little girl, as I navigated the bed, and pushed my father onto his back.

He stuck out, fully erect, he was much larger than I had imagined, and I became a little hesitant. He noticed right away, as I awkwardly perched over him.

"It's okay, hon, you don't have to do this."

"No" I said quickly, "I've been dreaming of this for awhile... it's just... what if I'm not very good at it?"

"I promise to pretend that I like it." Dad said snickering.

I punched him in the leg and found myself laughing too. A bead of precum dripped off the head of his cock l, and onto his taut belly. I positioned myself between his knees and spread his legs as I scooted forward.

I leaned down and placed my hand on his shaft. There was a good amount of him still sticking out of my hand. I felt nervous. He had been so calm and sure of himself, when he went down on me. As he should be, considering it had been the best orgasm of my life.

I spent all this time fantasizing about all of this, and the whole time I had convinced myself that I was the gift. That it was me that Dad needed. But he was far more experienced than I, and had just proven how much more he had to offer than I did. My fucking anxiety was getting the better of me.

I looked him in the eyes, they were pale blue, and the smile on his face was blissful. I leaned forward, and licked the precum off the end of his cock. His eyes rolled back into his head. He tasted salty, with a hint of sweetness, the tip of my tongue tingled as my saliva mixed with him.

My heart pounded, I put the head of his cock in my mouth. His girth was considerable and I found it difficult to hold my mouth open and not drag my teeth. The taste of him exploded in my mouth. It was glorious, the flavor of him was complex and wonderful. I found myself hovering there, with just the head of his cock in my mouth. My tongue unable to ignore it, coaxing out drop after drop of his precum. I could feel him mixing into my mouth, I swallowed several times to clear my excess saliva. The mere action of swallowing, seemed to suck more of him out, and into my mouth. I realized that my throat had become naturally numb from his precum.