Forbidden Flower Ch. 01

Sunlight filtered through my bedroom window and beamed persistently on my face. The covers shifted as I rose, yawning, then proceeding to rub my eyes. I opened them, and nearly collapsed onto the floor at the sight of my father sitting at the end of the bed. His watery-blue eyes glimmered, and his face screwed up in apology at my fright. I exhaled loudly and threw my pillow at him.

"You nearly scared me to death! Jesus, what are you doing in here?" Before he could answer, I examined his loosely-tied, navy-plaid robe. His stubble was prominent and his dark brown hair tousled from sleep, and when he opened his mouth to speak I caught a glance of his mouthful of straight, white teeth.

"Sorry, baby. I just wanted to be the first to wish you a happy birthday." I grunted and shuffled to the edge of my bed, removing the shelter of my blanket and forgetting my bedtime attire. My slightly large breasts were covered only by a much too small white tank top, and I was in my favourite green panties. I whipped the comforter onto myself again, trying to hide my embarrassment. He grazed his hand down the edge of my mattress and then used the same hand to sweep his thick hair away from his eyes.

"Going back to bed already?" Was that mischief I saw in his expression?

"Go away and make me that bacon and egg breakfast you promised!" I finished with a giggle and covered my head until I heard my father's footsteps fade down the hall. When I was sure that he was gone, I rushed to close the door and lock it, turning my attention to my wardrobe. I ended up putting on a grey t-shirt and some jean shorts, watching myself in my full-length mirror while doing so. My boobs were definitely larger than the average teen, and my nipples were round and pale. Spread slightly apart, they weren't exactly ideal. I focused instead on my pussy, which was covered with small blonde hairs. A small slit made by my labia indicated the folds of my virginal sex, and I noticed the heat radiating ever so noticeably as I pulled up the shorts. My curly blonde hair was long, and at the time a tangled mess from my slumber. My blue eyes, flecked with a light green, were small but very defined. Taking a break from scanning myself, I finished getting dressed and put my hair up in a wild ponytail before making my way to the bathroom to brush my teeth. Afterwards, I creaked my way down the old, carpeted stairs and swerved to the direction of cooking bacon and hash browns.

"Glad to see you hauled yourself down here, lazy bones," a playful chuckle rumbled in his throat, and I hugged my dad from behind, planting a quick kiss on his shoulder before taking a seat at the table. It wasn't long before he broke the awkward silence.

"So, what's it feel like to be eighteen?" His question seemed to be laced with genuine curiosity.

"It feels the same as seventeen, to be honest. Wait, wouldn't you know what turning eighteen feels like? Weren't you a teenager once, too?" We both laughed. "Yeah, once upon a time." As my dad turned to tend to the food on the stove top, I began examining him again. He still had his robe on, and I could see his frame being cloaked by the soft fabric. My father was a fit man, but he didn't have washboard abs. I kind of liked that on a man, anyway. A bit of flesh, not just rock-hard muscle. His dark hair was in contrast to his gorgeous blue eyes, and the fair amount of chest hair visible when he turned or faced me was incredibly masculine. I watched him as he maneuvered about, his strong hands gripping so gently and yet appearing so powerful. His shoulder blades rippling as he reached to grab plates, the bulge from his boxers as the robe loosened even more... Woah. What? Sure enough, there it was. I saw the protruding of his obviously large member.

When he looked over his shoulder, and his eyes met mine, I felt heat between my thighs stirring. Of course I had always known that my father was an attractive man, but I never considered exactly how attractive. His enormous dick was definitely another thing that made him irresistible. I shook my head lightly and shooed the thoughts away. My dad? Of all the guys in the world...

"Here you are, hon." He placed a plate of food in front of me and I breathed in the lovely scent. I could have sworn that my father smelt of a new cologne. I mean, the food smelt amazing. The bacon strips were both slightly chewy and crispy, the eggs sunny side up, the toast golden brown with butter, and a glass of milk. Just the way I like it. We began eating, and as some yolk dripped from my toast and landed on my chest, I nonchalantly used my thumb to wipe it. I looked over at my father, only to see him ogling the yellow liquid. I sucked it off of my thumb, keeping my gaze fixated on his expression. "Did you want some, dad?" He blushed, and shook his head. "Nope, I was just thinking about something."

He picked at his scrambled eggs, and I felt the need to ask: "Thinking about what, dad?" He seemed almost irritated that I had asked. "Nothing, just work stuff." I kept it at that, and finished off my breakfast with my milk. I got up, gathered my dishes, and put them in the sink. As I turned on the water, I heard the sound of my father's fork scraping any leftovers into the garbage, and he joined me at the sink. "It's your birthday, Rose, let me do the dishes," he said as he pulled them out of my hands. I didn't particularly enjoy doing dishes, so I complied immediately. "Thanks, daddy." I kissed him on the cheek, feeling his stubble tickle my lips, and left the kitchen to go up to my bedroom.

~Avery Flip~

I watched Rose as she left the room, her maturing hips swaying slightly and her ass almost hypnotic as it jiggled when she climbed the stairs. I felt a twinge in my boxers, and I turned to hide it from view in case she came back. It had been since she turned fifteen and began to mature that I found myself watching her. Watching her with hunger and lust, instead of the regular gaze of a father to his teen daughter. I knew it was wrong, and completely illegal... But as the cliché goes, it felt so right. As I dipped the plates in the hot, soapy water, I could not help but feel bad for my behavior that morning. I went into her room and watched her sleep for probably an hour, and I purposefully didn't re-tie my robe as I felt its hug slip from my skin. When the yolk from her egg fell on her chest, I was prodded with the realization that her breasts were growing. She never often had cleavage, but times when she would bend over and her arms would push them together... And her behind was filling in so nicely, not too large but most definitely not too small, she had trouble finding clothing that fit her body type comfortably.

Her mother passed giving birth to her, and it had been a few years before I fully recovered from it. They looked like sisters, Rose and her mom. The same hair, the same laugh, the same redness on their cheeks when I made a suggestive joke. I slept with a few prostitutes when Rose was a toddler, but it seemed that my sex-drive was diminished by any woman other than my her. At forty, I could not believe myself when I attempted the excuse of raging testosterone. I was a grown man, not a teenage boy. Would she find me desirable if I was her age? Would she want me as much as I want her?

My thoughts were suddenly interrupted as I heard the pipes run and the shower start up. I let go of the fork I was holding and dried my hands, then crept silently up the stairs. The door was locked, but I listened carefully for any signs of her voice. I noticed when she was fourteen that she had obviously

discovered the pleasurable endeavor of masturbation. I would be able to hear her moaning and shifting about her bed. I felt guilty in the beginning, but after a while I would get extremely aroused and rub my cock as she rubbed her little clit. Rose always had trouble with boys at her school, so she was as inexperienced as a child. She would often come home crying, leaping into my arms and sobbing as she explained how students would call her fat. She wasn't fat, not in the slightest. My baby girl had curves like you wouldn't believe. I had to hold myself back from feeling her up, gripping her hips and then her tits, massaging her soft skin and then making my way down to her pants... I allowed a moan to escape my mouth, and I felt a sensation down below. My dick was rigid as a pole and aching for release.

I caught the quietest mumble from the bathroom, and I had to hold my breath in order to hear it again. It was the most discreet of moans, and I could hear my darling girl playing with herself in the shower. I saw the opportunity before me and pulled my hard cock out of my bottoms. I grasped it in my hand and pumped gently, speeding up as my daughter's moans quickened in pace. We must have climaxed unanimously, because as my cum roped onto the bathroom door, I heard a louder moan and the squeaking in the tub that indicated she had also reached her peak. After a few moments of collecting myself, the water turned off and I heard Rose exit the shower.

~Rose Flip~

As I exited the warm, steamy haven of the shower, my vagina still felt tingly from my masturbation session. It was bewildering, because for the first time since in a while I thought of my dad. I imagined him joining me, mimicking the from-behind hug that I performed on him every morning, kissing along my neck and twirling my hair. He whispered dirty things into my ear and I could feel his amazing cock against my lower back. I've thought about my father in a romantic way for as long as I could remember in my teenage life. He protected me, he loved me, and he was fairly attractive. I would hear girls at school boast about seducing their dads or step-dads, so I personally never thought of it as something evil or wrong. My lust for him was more than just my hyperactive estrogen, I knew that much.

I grabbed a brown towel from the rack and put some cream into my hair, then brushing it through with my fingers. I reached for my clothes and then turned the doorknob, opening the door and widening my eyes with shock as I came face to face with my dad. He appeared to look pale, and his eyes seemed just as wide as mine. He had his robe completely off and it was bunched up where the door would have been shut. His boxers were ever so slightly tented, and I knew right away what had happened. I may have been inexperienced, but I wasn't completely oblivious. Trying to spare him of embarrassment, I wobbled past and as calmly as I could, entered my room and shut the door behind me. I laid the towel on a part of my bed that was uncovered, and I sat down with my outfit still in my damp hands. Without thinking, I giggled. Did he masturbate to the thought of me in the shower?

My amusement was cut short when I was hit with an abrupt awareness of the situation. My fantasies of my father... They were no longer fantasies if he thought of me the same way. It has a concept difficult for me to grasp, seeing that I always thought he saw me the same as any guy at school; a fat outsider. I grew excited just at the thought, and I was most definitely prepared for the Saturday ahead. Dressing back into my jean shorts, I decided on a cropped white top instead of my grey t-shirt. I went bra-less, same as this morning. I whipped my hair around and fluffed it up a bit, the natural ringlets forming nicely. I went to leave my room, checking myself out in the mirror before I left. And what seemed to be for the first time in forever, I liked what I saw.