Let Me Have Your Dick, Daddy

I would like to preface this story saying all characters are 18+. Also, this story is pure fiction and written solely as a fantasy/roleplay/enjoyment story, not as a stamp of approval on incest. In real life, incest is gross and wrong (I think we can all agree that isn't kink-shaming, right?), but there ain't nothing wrong with a fun little fantasy. So, without further ado, have fun and I hope you enjoy!

*

"Okay, honey, we'll see you guys in two weeks! We love you!" I watched as my mom's hand slipped out the door as she watched goodbye. She and my brother are flying to London today; his team qualified for some big soccer event there, but my mom didn't want to leave me alone for two weeks.

I turn around, hopping up on the counter, and continue licking my peanut butter spoon. My dad, James, is leaning against the fridge with a sullen look on his face.

"Don't frown like that, Daddy," I hope off the counter and step beside him. "You're too handsome for wrinkles," I cheekily say, bopping him on the nose.

He chuckles, looking down at me with his dark green eyes. Between my parents, I'd say I resemble my dad more. We share brown hair, but his is more of a dark honey brown whereas mine is a rich chestnut.

The similarities end there, though. Dad has those almost thin emerald gems, and I have big brown eyes. Dad has a tall, toned, and tanned frame, and I'm skinny and pale.

However, I share no qualities with my mom, who looks like a Viking: she's muscular, strikingly blonde, blue-eyed, and tall. My brother looks like her, burly and blonde, but he shares Daddy's eyes.

Me, though, I'm like the black sheep. I'm not short, but my 5'7 has nothing on my Mom's 5'11. My dark brown hair is fairly straight and reaches mid-back. I rarely cut it, simply due to laziness, but I get around to it when I see split ends. My friends refer to my body as "slim thicc," making sure I know the thicc is with two c's.

Personally, I think I'm just on the thin side but blessed with a few curves to soften the impact when I fall. My 34B cup tits are a little less than a handful, but my ass makes up for them. Perhaps cosmically, my mother's complete lack of curves balanced out into my lightly flared hips and round, jiggly ass.

"So," I awkwardly say, not sure how to handle his sadness, "wanna watch a movie?"

He nods, and I pepper him with questions about what movie he wants to watch while he pops popcorn.

Eventually, he settles on one of the crappy zombie movies he likes. I was really scared of them when I was young, and he finally gave up when I was 8, but I'm sure my decade-wiser self can handle a shitty sci-fi about something that isn't real.

An hour and two bowls of popcorn later, I'm regretting my choice. The jump-scares and flesh-eating is gory and freaky, and the main love interest got eaten in her sleep. I wrap the blanket around myself even tighter.

Dad seems to notice how freaked out I am and turns off the tv. "I'm sorry, sweetie, I forgot how much you hate this stuff."

He looks at the microwave, then says, "Tell you what, it's already 11:40. How about we call it a night?" I nod thankfully and vigorously, trying not to look too spooked.

Bed turned out to be a big mistake— lying awake, worried about every passing wind or creak. Sleep eluded me, and around 2:30 am, I get up, throw on a t-shirt (I sleep naked, but sometimes I wear panties and a t-shirt) and some boxers, then head down the hall to Dad's room.

I knock lightly, pushing the already open door back a few inches, peering inside. My dad is rolled onto his right side, breathing deeply and evenly. I climb in bed and my jostling wakes him.

"Annie, baby, is that you?" He wipes his eyes, trying to clear the sleep from them.

I snuggle under the covers, about a foot between me and my dad. "Yeah, it's me. I can't sleep."

"Okay," he nods back to sleep, muttering "sorry" before sleep takes over entirely.

About ten minutes pass, and I match my breathing to his own deep ones. At some point, I fall asleep, too."

*

I awaken to jostling in bed, thinking it might be my wife, but then I see a dark topknot as opposed to my wife's short, blonde hair.

"Annie, baby, is that you?" I mutter groggily, wiping my tired eyes.

There's more jostling as Annie gets under the covers, saying, "Yeah, it's me. I can't sleep."

I feel guilty and try to apologize, but my head just feels so heavy, so I put it back on the pillow, and it's lights out.

For the second time in the very early day, I'm woken my Annie. I roll, see my phone says it's 4:25, and drag a weary hand across my tired face.

Annie's loud whimpering and movement re-captures my attention, and I remember the reason I'm able to look at my phone this early. I scoot a bit loser, then tuck the blankets around her.

Her movements ease and, after about 15 minutes, she's almost entirely still. I lie back down, thinking this is the best I can do, then return to a peaceful slumber.

*

I slowly open my eyes, feeling well-rested and cozy. Oh, well, at least I got a good few hours.

I go to stretch my body before I realize the reason I feel cozy is because my father's big, warm body is holstered against me. At some point, we both rolled onto our right sides and he caged me in.

His heavy, somewhat hairy arm is ensuring my upper body can't move, wrapped over my left arm and torso and around my ribcage on my right side.

His huge leg is trapping my right, because my lower half is in the position I normally contort into during sleep. Usually, I sleep on either side with my tog leg slung up so my hips are almost parallel to the mattress, and my upper torso is usually tilted sideways.

Dad seems really comfortable, lightly snoring in contentment. I feel bad, I should just let him sleep. If I could just maneuver slightly into a more comfortable position, I think I could fall back asleep, too.

I try to slip my arm out from under his own, but this just succeeds in mine getting trapped on my side. i decide that I'll move my legs instead, but my shifting jostles Dad.

Oh, no. I stop moving, trying not to wake him. Dad sleeps a lot and heavily; he'll be grumpy if he doesn't get a few more hours.

Dad shifts around some more, pulling my body flush against his own. Oh! A thick, heavy weight settled against my ass, and he murmurs gibberish as he presses harder against me. While his lower half was settling down, and up, his hand found its way up to my boob, cupping it.

I still entirely, not sure what to do. He'll be so embarrassed if I wake him up.

I decide to lie there until he's deep sleeping again, then I'll move his hand and wake him up.

While I'm waiting, my heart pounding heavily, I notice my nipple is hardening in his grip. What the heck? This is my Dad.

Now that I notice my own arousal, I realize I can feel some wetness gathering in my shorts. Oh, no. My horny teenage body is just reacting to having a male wrap himself around me.

As I lie here, contemplating why existing is the worst possible thing in this moment, I can't help but feel a burning sensation in my clit.

My vagina feels alive, heavy and hot with my own arousal. I flick my hips unintentionally to relieve some of the heat in my clit, but I just end up grinding back against my Dad's hardening dick.

It swells against my cheeks, and I repeat the movement as the tip settles in the valley between my legs. I rock back harder, testing to see if this disturbs him.

Dad groans, jerking his hips forward. His breathing has gotten louder, but remind even and deep. He's asleep.

Oh, god, why is this turning me on? Why am I grinding my wet pussy against my sleeping Dad's dick?

I continue rocking back, and his dick gets harder. For a minute, I wish the material between us didn't exist. I know it's wrong but I just want to feel his dick on me.

I wiggle my arm down to reach my vagina, which ends up with him moving his arm a bit and brushing my nipple.

A shiver runs through me, and my hand finally reaches the spot over my shorts where I know I'll hit my clit. I rub my hand over the spot, and electric runs through my body and down to my pussy.

Between feeling Dad's hard cock behind my to the ministrations happening on my clit, I feel an orgasm building up. I want to use my other hand that's stuck under me to pinch my nipple, but I just focus on the growing feeling.

"Oh, I wish you would slip that hard dick in my little virgin pussy," I whisper, and the dirty thought is enough to push me to orgasm. I quake a bit, my breath hitched in my throat, and let the release roll through my quivering pussy.

After the golden feelings fade away, the horror of what I just did comes over me. I grunt, disgusted with myself, especially because the feeling of Dad's still-hard dick makes me want to go for round two.

Berating myself takes its toll, and sleep wins once again.

When I wake up, I'm alone. Dad's side lingers with a hint of warm, but I can tell he's been gone for a while because I smell waffles.

I try to push away the memory from earlier as an impulsive reaction to a nice, big body, running down the stairs.

"And in the morning," I shout, jumping the last two and landing in a superhero pose, "we're making waffles!"

Dad, dressed in a pair of grey sweatpants and a white t-shirt with an apron over, laughs, flipping the waffle iron as the timer beeps.

"Morning, Dad," I whistle, slipping behind him to grab coffee. At the same time, he turns around to greet me and we almost collide.

"Whoa, sorry, Annie," he chuckles, and maybe it's just my imagination, but it seems awkward, especially because he won't meet my gaze.

*

Annie looks up at me in suspicion. I can't blame her; normally, we push each other around and joke fight, but this morning is different.

I woke up, practically humping Annie and grabbing her boob. I pulled my hand back like I'd burnt myself on a pan, embarrassed but glad she didn't know.

My mind flashes back to less than an hour ago, back to one of my most shameful memories.

My body doesn't seem to care that the body is Annie's. My morning wood is shoved right between her plush ass cheeks.

My cock rises more, growing harder and dragging my sensitive tip against the thick material of her boxers.

I shake my head mentally, trying to calm my dick down. My one arm is wrapped under Annie's head, so moving means waking her, which means she wakes up feeling her Dad hard against her.

I don't know where to put my hand that was on her boob, so I lithely rest it on her waist, which seems like a safe spot between the danger zones.

I think of grandma, sheep, goats eating each other. Nothing seems to distract my second brain from its focus on the fat ass wrapped around his head.

The longer I sit trying to think of a way to escape, the more turned on I get. I subconsciously start rubbing Annie's waist with slow, circular traces.

Her body shivers in my grasp, her exposed arm breaking out in goosebumps.

Her shivering juts her ass out harder on my dick and I groan. I press down on her stomach to stop the movements, but this just encourages her.

I get more into this, and reach my arm up to pinch her hard nipple. Her body flinches in response, and I keep twiddling it.

I tentatively wrap my hand around her tiny breast, wishing I could put my mouth there instead. I squeeze gently, grateful to feel something reminiscent of Vivien's young tits.

Annie's got some heft to hers, but they fit her slim frame perfectly.

I move my efforts south, grabbing a handful of her ass in my grasp. I can't feel more than that because her boxers are thick, but the closer I get to her pussy the more wet the area becomes.

Is she wet? Maybe she's having a sex dream.

Just as I'm about to reach around to the front to try and get a hand down there, Annie grumbles in her sleep and rolls over, freeing my arm.

I take this as a sign and slip out, feeling like a terrible father. I ignore my erection, opting to make Annie her favorite breakfast instead.

God, I'm disgusting.

I shover at the memory, trying to excuse it, even though I know I was turned on by Annie.

Her mom and I usually sleep close together, so my body just reacted to having a body in bed.

Shrugging, Annie slinks around to the other side of the island, taking a seat in one of the plush chairs.

I tried not to stare at her ass when she was walking away, but there's something really cute about those boxers on her.

"Okay, I was thinking today we could go to the museum, grab some lunch at our favorite place by the park, then finish off with a movie here. Your choice, this time," I say, watching her face perk up.

We throw on some Looney Tunes reruns and eat more waffles than we should. Every once in a while, I see Annie stealing looks at me. Eventually, I make a face back and she blushes, giggling that I'm an idiot.

About three too-quick hours later, we're out the door. Annie walked downstairs in an outfit that turned me into "Dad Mode." She pouted, saying she's 18 now and she can wear what she wants to wear.

I relented, both sad to lose the argument and to see my baby grow up, but it's not like I could undress her and force her to change.

We finally reach downtown, and I'm glad for the distraction. The whole drive here, Annie's tits were perked up at me, leering past the low-cut, loose t-shirt and what she called a "bralette."

The museum's new exhibit proves to be as interesting s promised, and Annie seems content to browse the sculptures and collections.

Occasionally, I see men (and some women) staring at her while we peruse. I glare at them and leer at Annie's backside, wrapped protectively in a skin-tight pair of short shorts.

Their attention to her many,,,assets,,,,,draws my attention as well. I feel like a pervert, staring at my daughter's ass in public.

I would never tell anyone this but I'm an ass man at heart. When I married Vivian, I married for love; as nice as her muscular ass is, I prefer a bit of flare on the hips and a swelling ass.

We stop at our favorite book store, which is having a sale, which leads to hours of traipsing through the shelves for hidden gems.

Once my stomach starts growling, we head to Avinci's. Our young waiter pays special attention to my daughter.

She seems to like his affections, even though most of them are directed at her practically on-display breasts.

By the time we sit back and breathe, our food has been decimated from the face of the Earth. Allie huffs, slowly drinking water. "Think you can handle dessert?"

Dessert? Is she fucking crazy? I think I'm having a meat-induced heart attack and she's thinking about dessert?

"Sure," I huff out the world, sipping my own ice water. I focus the rest of my words on being believable and not warbling them. "Where's the menu?"

*

Asking for dessert was a bluff, but halfway through the chocolate torte, Dad looked close to vomiting and tears. I asked for a to-go box and the check.

By 7, we're at the homestead.

So much happened today and the only things I managed to find were a full stomach and some shitty romance books with big men that look like Dad on the cover. Not that that had anything to do with it.

"Holy crap, my feet are killing me," I groan, unlacing my Vans and kicking them off at the door. Daddy murmurs his agreement, lumbering to the fridge and putting the food away.

"How about we take a rain check on that movie?" He practically pants, exerted from the walk to the fridge.

I understand perfectly; my stomach feels like it could become gravity's next best friend.

We say our good nights and part ways, each taking a handful of Tums.

This happens about once every month. We go to our regular lunch at Avinci's, eat too much, take a handful of Tums, and walk it off by heading around the bookstore or for a walk in the park.

Only difference is this time, we had dinner instead. The small difference means more hunger prior and less digestion after. With Avinci's big portions, that's practically suicide.

I head up to shower, stripping in my room before realizing I left my towel in the bathroom this morning. I decide to make a dash for it.

Dad always takes late showers, usually spending time on his computer and getting work done, so I should be in the clear.

I down the hall, arms covering my tits, and open the unlocked door triumphantly. I walk in quickly and hear a scream, looking up to see Dad holding his dick, naked outside the shower.

I cover my eyes, but not before I take an appreciative look at the object that was the object of my affections last night, and scream, "I'M SORRY! I'M SORRY! I'M SORRY!"

Dad is blubbering and grasping for words like a fish, but I ignore him and walk out, closing the door behind me.

"Wow," I quietly chuckle, walking to the shower in my brother's room. Even bigger than I expected.

Tonight is a particularly hot night, and I shift uncomfortably in the heat until I throw off the top sheet and my shirt, stripping down to nothing.

I also get up to turn my fan up, and that does the trick.

I get back in bed, and after about ten minutes, the cool breeze from my fan is actually making me shiver a bit. I pull the top sheet back over me, falling asleep contentedly a few minutes later.

I hear my door creak open, and I shift and roll around a bit as I har my Dad's attempting-to-be-quiet footsteps creep into the room.

I wonder why he's in here. Maybe he left the extra paper in here again. Dad stays up pretty late doing work when he can't sleep and there have been nights he needs stationary for notes.

Annoyingly enough, I'm the only studious member of the family who carries paper.

They all say that since I hoard it all I may as well store it all, so they unloaded all paper products into my care.

I ignore him and try to fall back asleep, but I don't hear him ruffling around. Instead, I feel the sheet being slowly dragged off my naked form.

I hear Dad gasp when I'm exposed, then his gruff whisper of, "Oh, you dirty little girl."

For some reason, I don't scream or freak out at him. I want him to see me.

The slow sound of a zipper being pulled down indicates he's about to do to himself what I want to do to him.

The telltale sounds of low male grunting and skin-on-skin tell me Dad has his dick out.

He reaches one hand down to my ass cheek, grabbing a good portion of it before drags one hand down to my thigh.

My open up my already-hitched up leg even further, exposing my pussy to the cool air.

I hear a sharp intake of breath, then a feather-light fingertip dragging across my lips.

My body involuntarily jerks, and the movement grinds my clit down into my soft linen sheets.

He shallowly dips his finger at my center where liquid is seeping out, and I hear Dad moan behind me. The sound turns me on and makes me wish he would stick his cock where his finger is.

He swirls his finger around in my wetness, not penetrating my vagina but closer than any guy has ever been.

I feel his hand disappear and I'm overcome with disappointment, but a second later I hear a sniff followed by a sucking sound, and I can tell he just tasted my pussy juice.

"Mmmmmmm, you taste so good, baby," he says in his deep, comforting voice, and I want to feel him talk while he feasts on my pussy.

I hear the stroking get louder, and a minute later he lets out a stifled groan as a stream of cum splatters my ass. He swears, and next thing I know the zipper is going up and he's out of the room.

I reach a hand around to wipe at the cum on my ass, sniffing then poking my tongue out to taste.

It's cum, but something about it being Dad's makes it taste better.

I pluck my swollen nipples, reaching a hand down to my engorged clit. I swipe a finger over it and let out a cry into my pillow, then return my hand to my nipples.