It's Just a Game!

When Trent was on top of me that night, I closed my eyes, wrapping my arms and legs around him, smiling as his wonderful cock filled me. My body needed this. I needed him to take me; to remind me of what I had here at home and why I loved him so very much. And therein lay my problem: I had also been involved sexually with another man, my father, but part of me felt as though there should be more guilt. And when there wasn't, I wasn't quite sure what to make of it. I loved Dad, as much as Trent and I wanted to spend this time with him, as well. That's the only reason I could think of for this lack of remorse and shame.

Monday morning, after Trent had left for work, I stood in the shower staring down at the floor and the water spraying against me, running down over my neck and shoulders and cascading over my breasts. I tried to make myself feel guilty. I kept asking myself if I could ever become pregnant again.

I closed my eyes and very soon a hand drifted between my legs, as my mind meandered back to that night with Dad.

I was on my back, when Dad slipped his cock into me. And the cause of my utter shock wasn't simply in knowing my Dad was fucking me, but also in that I found myself enjoying it. I remembered how I felt with him inside me, and later as I was begging him to fuck me harder and empty himself in my body. And I remember how wonderful it felt; the intense tingling between my legs and throbbing inside my vagina, as his beautiful cock exploded within. A wonderful euphoria filled my mind, as Dad took me.

When I finally stepped out of the shower, I quickly dried myself and walked to the bedroom and gazed at the bed, the bed I shared with my husband; the same bed that my father and I had spent so many memorable moments together. I stepped inside and shut the door behind me, locking it. Then I slowly walked over to the bed and dropped the towel from around my body and lay down. I pulled the pillow under my head and closed my eyes, bending my knees upward and out. And for the next half hour, I masturbated thinking of my father.

For the remainder of the day, I fought a losing battle. Every now and then, my mind would run out of control with thoughts of him, and I'd hurry to the bedroom to relieve myself, quickly shedding myself of those lurid thoughts. But the more I did this, the more I wanted him; the more my mind wandered to thoughts of our time together and the anticipation of someday being with him once again.

For the next two days, I didn't text with Dad. I was too afraid to talk to him. Thoughts of him were taking over, and I felt as though I couldn't get anything done, as a result. I didn't need or want to exacerbate the problem by texting with him. But I was like an addict, hooked on a drug that I once thought I could control, but which was now controlling me. I thought I could keep a handle on my desires; that I could control myself and keep them in check. And when I finally convinced myself I could, the home phone rang.

"It's for you."

I was in the kitchen washing dishes, having just finished dinner, when Trent called to me. I wiped my hands on a dishtowel and walked out to the living room. Trent was sitting on the couch, reading the newspaper and holding the phone up in one hand. As I stepped around the couch, he looked up at me and I quietly asked whom it was. He smiled, replying it was "your dad". I felt the blood suddenly rush from my face and pool in my feet.

"I'll, uh... take it in the den," I said.

Trent grinned and nodded.

A minute later, I picked up the extension phone in the den and, covering the mouthpiece, called out to the living room, letting him know I had it. I held the phone to my ear and heard a click, as Trent hung up. My heart was pounding and I cleared my throat.

"You there?" he said.

"Yeah," I squeaked softly. "I'm here."

There was a brief pause and he asked how I was.

"Um... fine. I'm fine. How're you?"

Dad chuckled. "I'm alright. You don't sound fine," he replied. "You haven't replied to my texts. Just wondered if you were okay."

"Yeah... yeah, I'm fine. I'm okay."

There was another pause, and then we both went to speak at the same time.

"Sorry, you go first," I said timidly.

"Nah, go on," he replied.

I smiled, turning to sit in my chair, and held the phone close to my ear with both hands.

"I'm okay," I whispered.

"You sure?"

"Yeah."

We were both silent for a moment, and then Dad spoke.

"I miss you," he said softly.

I closed my eyes and gripped the phone tightly, as my heart began throbbing again. Then I sighed into the phone.

"Are you upset?" he asked.

I smiled. "No," I said. "Not at all... I miss you, too."

Then I heard Dad breathing heavily, the same sound I heard when he was on top of me. I bent over in my chair, breathing hard on my own.

"I really miss our time together," he mumbled almost seductively.

I sucked in deeply through my nose and sighed.

"God, I miss you, too," I whispered.

We were both quiet and breathing hard, and, though separated by distance, our hormones boiled to a fever pitch at just the sound of each other's voices.

"Fuck," he sighed. "I'm so hard for you right now."

I put a hand between my legs and closed my knees tightly, breathing heavily.

"... wish you were here," he mumbled softly.

I pressed a finger against my vagina and moaned.

"... you want me?" he asked.

My jaw hung open, as I envisioned him stroking his long hard cock for me; visions of my body dancing through his mind; visions of me fucking him.

"... yeah..." I stuttered.

"God, I miss our little game..."

"... Oh yeah," I sighed, scraping a finger between my legs against the fabric of my shorts, sending a gentle vibration to my vagina buried below.

"When can we play again?" he whispered.

"... God, I want to so badly..."

"When?"

Then it came to me, I realized just what I needed to do, why I had been so obsessed all along; I said quickly, "Dad you have to help me. You have to make me pregnant again."

There was a pause, then, "Are you sure?"

"Absolutely!" I replied. Without waiting for his response, I instructed him, "Come over tomorrow at noon, Trent has a tee time for golf and will be gone in the afternoon."

"If you're sure about this, I'm in." Dad responded.

Neither of us spoke as I let Dad in. We knew why he was there and the tension was thick as smoke. I grasped his hand and led him to the bedroom. In the back of my mind, I was hoping he wasn't thinking of me as his daughter, just somebody that needed him sexually.

Need and lust were driving me; the thought of committing incest with my father began to weigh heavily upon me. The first time I was intoxicated and, at least initially, only teasing. But this time we were meeting for the purpose of impregnating me – the significance was overwhelming. I didn't want to turn around and look, so I quickly went to my bureau. Dad quietly sat down on the edge of the bed, while I fumbled around with my things, doing nothing in particular, simply trying to keep my hands otherwise occupied while I tried to think of what to do next. I hadn't bathed and I wanted to be clean and fresh for this. Or perhaps I was just postponing the inevitable.

Dad leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees and clasping his hands together, as he watched. "So, what are we doing'?" he asked.

My hands began trembling, but thankfully they were busy with my things, so he couldn't see them. "Going to take a quick shower," I mumbled, my voice cracking. God, even though we had been together before, I was terrified of having sex with my father again. Sexting was one thing, this was something entirely different - My father was here to impregnate me.

I forced my hands to search for my bath items. That's when I felt something against my leg. The trembling in my hands had now ascended to my arms. Without making it obvious, I glanced to the side and saw Dad's arm extended. It was him. He was touching me. He slowly ran his hand up and down my leg.

"Are you alright?" he whispered very softly.

My eyes quickly darted back to the bureau, and my head jerked up and down. "Yes," I squeaked nervously. I felt his hand slowly rise up the back of my leg under my short skirt. Higher it went until he was gently cupping the cheek of my ass. And when I felt his fingers squeeze softly, an involuntary sigh slipped past my lips. I quickly fished my bath stuff from the bureau and glanced down at him. "I'll be right back," I stammered, and made my way to the bathroom.

Inside, I set my things on the bathroom counter and began undressing. I looked up and saw the door still open. Should I close it? I didn't bother. I was in a hurry to get in the shower and hide. I unzipped my shorts and let them fall to the floor, and then pushed my panties down also. As I held my chin against my chest, watching my hands fumble with the buttons of my blouse, I noticed a movement behind me. I looked up and saw Dad's reflection in the mirror; how odd I thought, seeing him in the mirror instead of me. He was standing behind me in the doorway. I quickly grinned sheepishly and looked down at my hands, still working the buttons.

"Can I come in?" he asked. I could only nod. I felt him come up behind me and, when my blouse was finally loosened, he helped me take it off, laying it on the counter. "Thanks," I mumbled.

Then I reached back to unclasp my bra, but felt Dad's hands already there.

"I'll get it," he said softly.

I dropped my hands, placing them on the counter in front of me, and tried not to watch his reflection in the mirror as he removed my bra. He pushed the straps over my shoulders and it fell down my arms. When my breasts came into view, I saw his eyes in the mirror staring at them. I blushed and quickly turned and stepped over to the shower.

Dad moved up behind me and pulled me back to the counter. We looked at each other's reflection in the mirror. He took another step closer so that he was standing right behind me and I could tell he was breathing hard.

Dad reached his hands to the skin of my shoulders and began gently but firmly rubbing them, letting his hands get to my neck and then coming back down to my breasts. My shoulders slumped slightly into his touch.

Dad let his hands trace down my arms till they gripped my hands as he squeezed lightly.

He moved his hands to my back and when he did, I did something he didn't expect. I moved my right hand to his crotch and gripped the hardness that was protruding there. He pushed into my grip.

As he pulled his shirt off, and began to lower his jeans, I closed my eyes and tried to gather myself, struggling to get rational about what was happening.

My eyes opened wide when I felt his hard cock press against my bare, exposed ass as he hugged me from behind.

"Dad..."

He was naked and pressed to my back and I leaned back to him as his hands pulled me. I looked at our refection there in the mirror as he glanced at me.

We both looked at my breasts as they jutted forward, excited. The pinkish nipples were extended and pointed, and I gasped when he brought his hands to them and caressed them, gently squeezing and pulling on them.

We watched the reflection as his hands moved down my stomach toward my pubic area.

"Dad, no..." I faintly moaned as a flood of emotion wafted through me; I was not drunk this time and I was feeling the pressure of the endeavor overwhelm me.

Not certain of my reason for doing so, Dad's hand stopped, poised right at the top of my vagina with the tips of his fingers brushing the scant tuft of hair. He looked into my eyes in the mirror. I looked back to him and responded by raising my arms to reach back for his face.

He moved his hand fully into my crotch and let his middle finger slip into me and I grunted loudly. I was very wet and shivered as Dad pushed his finger further and pressed his palm against my mound. I bucked against him and I made a crying sound as I started humping against his hand.

"Yes," I urged him.

After a few strokes, I had made up my mind, and quickly pulled his hand from me. He took a step back, uncertain of what I was doing. I pushed the clothes on the floor to my left away from our feet, and then I spread my legs further apart, looking again to him in the mirror.

"C'mon," My voice crackled and then I bent over the counter leaving my ass up and directly in front of Dad.

He gripped his cock and traced its head against my vaginal lips. He traced it up and down, brushing my folds.

"Dad!" I urged him, "Fuck me."

He pushed inside me about halfway before I felt him stick to my labia, seizing him like a vice.

Again I grunted.

Then without letting me get adjusted he pushed deep, fully inside me, my arms sliding with my torso across the counter top as I screamed. "Ouch."

He pulled back but not completely out of me and before he could move again I slammed back at him, this time causing him to yelp.

With that, we started moving against each other, easily finding a rhythm back and forth – my pushing back when he thrust forward. I loved the way he moved and got so into it, and I relished how he felt and the way he pushed up inside me.

The sound of flesh slapping flesh was soon drowned out by our moaning.

I started my orgasm first, I started to shake and chanted, "Oh, yes, yes, yes... "

Dad joined with one of his own, as he rammed himself inside me.

"Yes, yes, yes," I could feel him growing larger.

"Ah," he groaned as he came, holding himself tightly against my butt and fully inside me. We stayed like that for what seemed like forever, but really just moments, still joined at our sex. When I finally moved forward slightly, Dad eased back and his wet, limp cock slipped out of me, his sperm snaking down my inner thighs.

I had held my head between my arms facing the counter top since we had come. Now, as he was still behind me I rose up to look into the mirror and saw my father looking back into my eyes.

I stood up, reached into the shower stall and turned on the water.

I could sense more movement behind me, but was too anxious to look. I stood there with my arms folded on my chest still oddly anxious waiting for the water to warm, but I couldn't keep standing there with him behind me, so I pulled back the curtain and stepped inside, closing it quickly. The water was still a bit too cool, so I stood there holding my hands under the spray waiting for it to heat up. I looked at the curtain and could see Dad's dark image. A lump formed in my throat and I swallowed hard. His murky gray image was moving again, this time toward the shower. I stepped under the shower and held my head up in the water, nervously running my hands over my face.

Suddenly, I felt a pair of hands on my waist. I jumped, still hiding my face in the water.

"Sorry," he chuckled.

"It's alright," I replied.

His hands began to move around to the front of my body and, in a quivering voice, I asked if he could hand me the soap. He released me and turned back to reach down for it on the edge of the tub. I glanced over my shoulder and saw him behind me, completely naked. And when he rose up, I quickly turned back to the water. Instead of handing the bar to me, Dad reached his hands around in front and rolled it between them under the water, building up a heavy lather. Then he placed his soapy hands on my shoulders and began washing my body.

He moved across my shoulders to my neck, and I held my chin down, allowing him greater access. I closed my eyes, and felt his warm hands moving around my back, over my shoulder blades, down further to my waist, and finally to cup my ass in his hands.

He started gently kneading my cheeks, and I felt myself begin to relax. And when he slipped a hand deep between my legs, pulling his fingers up between my cheeks, I sighed and pushed back against him. I was going to let him do whatever he liked.

He lathered up his hands again and this time reached around to the front of my body. I lifted my elbows, allowing his hands unimpeded access. I turned my eyes downward and watched as he gently manipulated my breasts, massaging them and carefully teasing the nipples. God, it felt heavenly. After a few moments of that, he let one hand slowly drift down my body. I laid my head back against him, knowing full well his next destination. And when his fingers curled around my vagina, my mouth opened and I sighed loudly.

"Do you like this?" he whispered in my ear.

I nodded happily, as his fingers gently slipped through my folds.

"How's it feel?" he asked.

"...Wonderful..." I sighed.

His hands reached for my waist, pulling me closer. My fingers dug into the muscles of his chest and I was so tempted to kiss and bite him. Instead, I let my hands leave his chest and slowly make their way down. When they reached his groin, I brought them together and found his amazingly hard cock sticking straight out from his body. He groaned, as I gripped the length of his cock with one hand and the other cupped his heavy testicles, cinched up into a tight ball. I worked my hand up and down his full length. In the forefront of my mind, I wanted to feel his powerful tool in my body again; in my mouth. I wanted to orally pleasure him. I loved oral sex and was equally passionate about having such a wonderful cock erupt in my mouth. But then I remembered why we were here – to impregnate me. I needed to have this source of sexual pleasure between my legs.

My fingers squeezed the head of his cock, and Dad moaned. That brought me back to my senses, and I realized we were here to have intercourse. I simply had to do it with him.

I released his body and he slowly turned to face me. I grinned up at him and he smiled back in reply. Then my hands blindly reached out for his wonderfully erect cock. He closed his eyes and began slowly thrusting it through my fingers. I looked down and saw it. My heart skipped a beat. It was beautiful. Long and hard with pulsing veins and an angry, engorged purple head. I wrapped both hands around him and began tugging. Dad sighed and placed his hands on my breasts. As he squeezed and pulled on them, I did likewise to his cock.

"God, I'm going to cum, if you keep doing that," he moaned. He opened his eyes and looked down at me, almost pleadingly.

I giggled nervously and stopped the movement of my hands. "You like that?" I asked.

His eyebrows rose and he nodded. "God, yeah."

"Then you'll love this." I then perched one leg up on the inside ledge of the shower, and guided him into me once again. Dad dipped at the knees and began thrusting up into me, gently at first, then picking up the tempo until he rammed into me to the point that I began to worry that I might slip and fall. I clung tenaciously to his neck as he continued his assault. He placed one arm under my raised leg and I felt my standing leg coming off the floor as he rammed upwards. I was a rag doll in his embrace.

Dad became animated as he began ejaculating into me for the second time in less than five minutes.

"Better hurry up," I said, releasing him. "Water's going to get cold." And very soon it did.

I watched as he brought his towel to his head and rubbed his hair vigorously. My eyes drifted down to his cock. It was still long and semi-hard, curving far out from his body. He was standing not two feet in front of me, and I reached out and took him in my hand. He paused briefly from drying his hair, as I stood there stroking him. Then he brought the towel down and dropped it to the floor, stepping closer to me. I kept my eyes on his cock, as he reached for my towel and pulled it from my body. When it was on the floor, his hand went between my legs and I spread my knees. He slipped a finger deep into me and I grit my teeth, clenched my fingers hard around the throbbing cock in my hand. Dad took another step closer. Another finger entered my body and he began twisting them around inside me. I grunted and felt a warm tingling sensation building between my legs – the orgasm I didn't have in the shower.