Dragonfly

It was late on a summer night. I sat up in bed bathed in the glow of my laptop. My wife was away on a two-night business trip and I was doing what married guys do in that situation, sifting through porn, seeking thrills in the vast wasteland that IS cyberspace.

With my hard-on at full tilt, I clicked a new screen open to an anonymous chat site. If cyberspace, at large, is a wasteland, the site I had chosen is a black hole, especially when you're a straight male.

Each new chat attempt yielded the same result - me connecting, then disconnecting, with another horny guy. Finally, after a good 15 minutes, a lower case "f" appeared, the letter which had become the sexiest, most alluring member of the alphabet and elicited a Pavlovian twitch from the kickstand between my thighs.

"Hey."

"Hi."

Then the moment of truth.

"Age?"

Drumroll please...

"18."

Psychic fist pump!

"You?"

"47. Too old?"

"Not at all."

A follow-up fist pump!

"You just became my new favorite person."

I'd say about 97% of these types of anonymous interactions lack any spark of connection or real chemistry, so when you stumble upon someone with whom you genuinely enjoy talking it feels like hitting the masturbation lottery. I eagerly confirmed that she was okay with graphic language, confiding that dirty words were the conversational equivalent of heroin to me. She quickly said yes, confessing a similar addiction, and we were off to the races.

First - physical descriptions.

Her - 5'7", brown hair, blue eyes, tits she said seemed slightly larger than they were (34C) on her lean, soccer athlete's frame.

Me - 5'10", same hair and eyes as her, managing at 47 to fight off middle-aged paunch, keeping myself relatively fit through exercise and stress not to mention the late night jerk-off sessions.

We quickly shared our respective sexual contexts. She had been dating a guy for more than a year. They fucked, alot, and she liked it, alot, but his personality (or lack thereof) was wearing on her, in spite of his good looks, football star body and God-given talent for eating pussy. She had a "total lust-crush" on her senior English teacher (she'd recently graduated High School) which was part of why she enjoyed chatting with older guys. She was a natural submissive.

(One final fist pump.)

I confided that my wife, who was out of town, was beautiful, the love of my life, but that our fucks had grown infrequent and mechanical and that I turned more and more to these kinds of forums for my sexual pleasure. I revealed that I shared her boyfriend's zest and (I hoped) talent for pussy eating and that I liked clothed fucks, tit-fucks, all fucks, really. And, I added in delayed response to her preference check list, I was a natural controller.

She was articulate, honest, and funny - a perfect storm of a sex talk partner. As she shared her deep infatuation with a particular hair brush ("...it slides into my pussy so perfectly I can't help feeling it was designed specifically to fuck me...") I realized the cock stroking that had accompanied our conversation had grown more purposeful.

"Can I make a confession?" I asked.

"You're not a Unabomber are you?"

"I've been jacking off this whole time."

"That makes me happy," she replied. "My brush is submerged in my sopping wet cunt at this very moment."

"Slide it in and out for me," I directed. "Pretend its my cock."

Longer than usual silence, then:

"Fuck. I just came so fucking hard. My whole body is shaking."

"Right behind you," I declared, my right fist approaching warp speed below my waist until my body spasmed and thick, heavy splashes of cum torpedoed my chest and stomach.

"Fuck back," I typed with shaky hands. "I made a mess."

Another long pause as I reclaimed my ability to breathe.

"Can we do this again tomorrow?" she asked.

"My wife will still be gone so I'm all yours."

"Type the word dragonfly as your interest on the chat site so we'll be sure and connect."

"Midnight?" I asked. "I need to wait until my daughter's in bed."

"Midnight," she replied.

"Sweet dreams, dragonfly."

**********

"I thought about you all day," I said after our initial hello the next night. "And I'm already hard. Be warned."

"I made my boyfriend come over the minute my dad left for work," she gushed. "I have never fucked like that before. I was possessed!"

"Is your trusty brush handy?" I asked.

"Let me get it from its special hiding place in my rose covered jewelry box under the bed."

"Yes, definitely," I said. "The brush needs to be a part of this conversation!"

"Jewelry box retrieved," she pronounced. "Opening now...wow," she observed, "it smells like my pussy. Is that gross?"

"No, it's fucking beautiful," I said. "I have never before been jealous of a brush. This is new territory."

We were giddy with our connection and, like the night before, let the conversation flow. She described her afternoon fuck and how she had imagined it was my cock using her tight pussy as her boyfriend rammed her from behind.

"I was thinking how I couldn't wait to tell you every little dirty detail as I begged for him to shoot his cum all over my tits."

"My hard on thanks you," I replied, stroking it, then added, "I love cum on tits."

The shift occurred when I asked her a series of questions about her body.

"Do you shave your pussy?" "What are your nipples like?" "Any secret little landmarks on your body?"

To that last one she replied, "I have a birthmark shaped like the state of Pennsylvania."

"Really?" I asked, trying to ignore the sudden pounding in my chest. "Where on your body?"

"It's right in the middle of my upper thigh. My dad always jokes about it since he's from Pennsylvania."

Rushing blood in my head made me deaf and dizzy. I tried to process what I sensed was happening while at the same time fighting it.

When I didn't type anything for a few moments she expressed concern. We had established a rhythm which I had suddenly halted.

"Still there? You okay?"

"My wife is calling," I lied. "She wouldn't be unless she had some big work problem to talk through. I need to take it."

"No problem," she replied. "Go. Same time tomorrow?"

"I'll try."

As I clicked the screen closed I felt numb, dazed, and nauseous from the realization that continued to dawn on me: the funny, intelligent, sexual, sexy as hell 18-year-old girl with whom I had been chatting with graphic candor for the past two nights, who'd inspired the biggest cum load of my adult life, the girl who had been fucked and cum upon by her boyfriend that very afternoon - was my daughter, Rose, who was, supposedly, sleeping down the hall.

**********

I went through stages that long, sleepless night. At first, I was horrified, repulsed by what I had done. She was my daughter, my beautiful baby girl, the person I was charged to protect, and yet there I was, a 47 year old man, her father, cyber-fucking her. I was a monster.

That acute self-loathing gave way to something a little more detached as I tried to wrap my head around the sheer impossibility of it all. Millions and millions of people in the world. God knew how many indulged in anonymous cyber sex at a given moment yet, somehow, I landed with her, with Rose.

By morning I was starting to convince myself that it couldn't be true. There must be some other girl with a state-shaped birthmark and a dad from Pennsylvania. There must be some other soccer athlete high school graduate with a slightly boring jock boyfriend and a thing for older guys. I was being crazy.

It was Saturday, no work. I heard the shower blast and knew she was in the bathroom. I hurried to her room and rushed directly to her bed, kneeling. I reached under and quickly found a rectangular box. When I lifted it into view I saw the faded red roses. My hand shook as I removed the lid and was assaulted by the sweet smell of my daughter's sex.

That was when the epiphany came.

Something so tremendously unlikely had to be fated, had to be sanctioned by the universe. Shit like that didn't just happen. In the vastness of cyberspace, you didn't just randomly connect with the person down the hall from you. It would be like throwing a dart at Mount Everest and hitting a bulls-eye hidden in the highest cave.

The shower water stopped and I reluctantly returned the treasure to its sacred hiding place then hurried back to my bedroom where I immediately grabbed my laptop. On a hunch, I checked our chat site and typed the word "Dragonfly" on the interest line as I'd done the night before. After only a few failed attempts I was connected with the cyber soul mate I now knew to be my only daughter.

I apologized for the night before then added, "I hope you were still able to have some fun. I wouldn't want your brush to get lonely."

"Actually, I put it right away," she explained. "I was a little sad to lose you."

"That's why I checked this morning, hoping to make amends," I said. "My wife gets back a little later. Can you play now?"

"I just showered and am totally naked."

"How convenient."

"The brush has already been summoned! He seems so happy!"

Little did she know that I was picturing it all completely accurately, the box, the brush, her, naked on her bed, bath towel cast aside, fuck toy at the ready.

"I don't think I can describe for you how hard you make me," I said. "There really isn't a word for this kind of hard. My cock is like a steel beam, a long, thick, fuck girder. Do I sound crazy?"

"No, you sound so incredibly sexy," she gushed. "Your words make my cunt drip."

"Are you fucking yourself?" I asked.

"Yes. God I love this fucking brush. What are you doing?"

"Whenever we chat, you can pretty much assume my cock is in my right fist being stroked with authority any time I am not typing a dirty thought to you."

"Holy fuck," I thought as I typed, "I am saying these things to my fucking DAUGHTER! I am being turned on by my fucking DAUGHTER!"

But rather than quell the urge, these thoughts had the opposite effect. I was as turned on as I had ever been in my entire life.

We shifted easily onto a fun, control-submission track with me telling her exactly what to do and calling her creative nasty names which pushed her over the edge repeatedly. She came four times before I finally commanded her to get on her knees and take my hot load all over her face, which she eagerly, happily, obediently did. We signed off, vowing to reconnect late that night if possible, but with the understanding that married life might make that tricky for me.

I rinsed off in the shower and went downstairs where I found her sitting in shorts and a T-shirt eating cereal at the kitchen table. Suddenly, I marveled at things I hadn't properly appreciated before: the shape of her thigh; the fullness and firmness of her big, beautiful tits; her shiny-eyed smile.

Everything had changed.

**********

In the coming weeks, we continued to cyber fuck whenever possible, shifting from our chat site to more direct communication apps. We swapped pictures of body parts but never faces. It was the lust equivalent of falling in love.

The time came to take Rose to college for the start of her freshman year. She was a wizard with computers and destined for technological greatness. The college that had given her the best deal was three hours away and though the thought of leaving her there was heartbreaking, I was thrilled when my wife announced that she would not be able to accompany us due to an emergency business meeting. Rose and I would travel alone.

"They only had the one room," I said apologetically as we entered it that evening.

"Fine by me," she replied.

We both slipped into our sleep clothes. I had a pizza delivered to our room and we watched a pay-per-view movie about an alien invasion.

"You mind if I use the bathroom for a few minutes?" she asked a little timidly with bed time approaching.

"Of course not," I answered.

As she closed and locked the bathroom door, I sensed that Dragonfly would be seeking a brief sex vent from her cyber lover. Sure enough, my phone buzzed almost immediately.

"I know."

My heart rose up into my throat.

"What do you know?" I asked.

"I know who you are."

Butterflies fluttered in my stomach. My cock twitched.

"Are you sure?"

"Yes."

"How?"

"Does it matter?"

For a moment, I was struck silent but then a strange calm overtook me and my vision cleared.

"Is your pussy wet?"

"Soaked."

"Brush handy?"

"Always."

"Strip naked and bring it to me," I instructed.

Brief wait and then she walked out slowly. Her body was even more spectacular than I could have imagined, so firm, full, shapely and supple.

"Fuck," I sighed. "You're beautiful."

"Thank you, daddy."

"Sit on the edge of your bed, facing me."

I could see that she was shaking. Her nipples were hard and her cheeks were flushed. Her eyes shone in the room's weak light.

"Spread your legs," I said evenly.

She did.

"How did you know it was me?" I asked, still devouring every inch of her with my eyes.

"I always knew," she said. "I wanted it. I rigged it. I rigged your computer and spied on all you did, knew what turned you on, the sites you visited. I was able to make it so you had to find me that first night, when mom was away...from there it was easy."

I was too turned on to feel anything but all-consuming lust. I didn't feel manipulated or duped, I simply needed to fuck this beautiful girl.

"That was naughty of you," I said. "Stand up, turn around, and bend over."

Her ass jutted and swayed inches from my face. I stood, suddenly, and slapped it sharply with my right hand, then slapped her again.

Obediently, happily, eagerly she followed my directives.

"Sit back down."

"Spread your legs."

"Peel your pussy lips apart."

"Slide the brush into your cunt."

"Suck your juices off of the brush."

"Spread some juice onto your tits."

By the time I knelt and teased her clit with my tongue, she was a ticking time bomb and exploded almost instantly into my mouth. I burrowed through that climax and sucked out another, my fingers joining in the effort.

I stood and pushed off my sweats. My cock flopped directly in front of her beautiful face.

"Tell me what you do," I said.

Her eyes were clouded with lust as she flashed them up at me and pushed my shaft up against my lower abdomen.

"First I get daddy's balls nice and wet."

She let one, then the other, rest on her tongue before sucking them to a shimmery shine.

"Then I hold daddy's cock in my tight fist and stroke it a little." She tugged on me playfully. "I need to fucking suck you, daddy."

"Then do it, Rosie. Suck my fucking cock."

And suck she did, like a champion, wordlessly willing me into a slow, steady face-fuck, more and more of me disappearing between her lips until I couldn't stand it any longer.

I lifted her roughly, my little fuck ragdoll, and pushed her onto the room's office desk. She spread her long legs as I plunged into her.

"Fuck," I groaned. "Your pussy is perfect baby."

"Fuck me, daddy. Fuck me, daddy," she moaned, pleaded, as I pounded her. Her tits shook. Her whole body quaked with each deep thrust.

Her cunt's wet walls clamped around me as she grimaced and groaned, cumming in a wild, shuddering gush.

"Fuck, baby," I panted, "I want your tits."

I pulled out of her and jerked myself off as she slipped to a kneel on the floor, and pushed her tits together.

"Cum on me, daddy," she begged. "I want all your cum."

I erupted onto her, an embarrassment of riches all over her soft, smooth skin.

"Better than the brush?" I asked, once I could speak.

"Not even close," she replied.

The next afternoon as I hugged her goodbye on the campus sidewalk, tears filled both of our eyes.

"I love you, daddy," she whimpered against my chest.

"I love you too, Dragonfly."