My Daughter the Nudist

A test run by myself showed everything was working perfectly. All I had to do then was wait.

As was by now normal, Sam went straight up to her room when she got home and disrobed. She spent the whole evening naked, with me or on her own, and when she went off to bed I went into my study, shut the door behind me and had a look at the footage from the cameras. It was perfect, great crisp and clear video of Sam fully nude and totally relaxed at home, clearly with no idea that she was being recorded. I didn't watch it all – there was already several hours' worth – instead I just found the first good clip where all of Sam's body was on show. I pulled out my already hardening cock and stroked myself leisurely as I watched my daughter naked on camera, focussing on her perfect breasts and any glimpse of her pussy, until I came, hard and quickly. I cleaned up, closed the software down and went off to my own bed.

I felt happy that I had found a solution to my problem of becoming aroused by Sam's nudity at home, but also some guilt over the lengths I had gone to and my continued sexualisation of her behaviour. I told myself that it was natural, that I was a red-blooded heterosexual man and, daughter or not, Sam was a beautiful young woman who was continually walking around my house with no clothes on – who wouldn't experience some arousal upon seeing that? And better to do it this way, to record her without her ever knowing, than to risk her realising from the way I was acting that she was having that effect on me. This was perfectly safe, I told myself – nobody was coming to any harm, it was just my private way of coping with having a nudist daughter. I even told myself that I wouldn't need to keep recording and watching the videos – after a time, Sam's body would hold no more novelty for me, and I would be able to forget all about these lustful feelings towards her and move on.

Of course, that wasn't the case. Now, with the means to observe Sam nude in private whenever I liked and satisfy my urges by masturbating to video of her naked body, my obsession only grew.

Previously, I'd considered myself to have a normal man's appetite for porn, usually watched for free online. But now, I no longer sought out those websites when I was feeling horny – instead I would go off to my study, open up the camera programme and watch Sam naked in the house while I jerked off.

With the images I had of her as a foundation, I was free to fantasise – in my fantasies she wasn't my daughter, but a friend's daughter, or a free-spirited room-mate, and I was able to seduce her into various acts through my willing acceptance of her nudist lifestyle. I still felt guilty over these thoughts, but I was becoming increasingly lost in a web of voyeurism, justifying my thoughts back to myself in such a way that made what I was doing seem perfectly okay.

It was getting to the point where I was going at least once a day to look at the video of Sam. While at first I was happy to look at any moments of her in the recordings, gradually I became more focussed on times when I had not been around, when Sam had been alone and believed herself to be unobserved. This was more exciting to me; I was getting a window into the person my daughter was outside of my presence – although it must be said that her behaviour remained largely the same whether I was there or not. She was still a stranger to clothing and an avid watcher of television and a reader of books.

However, there came eventually one occasion where my recordings captured a more intimate and private side of Sam.

I was watching through some footage late at night which had been shot while I had been at work and Sam had been in the house by herself all day. I had a nice shot of her sitting on the sofa in the living room, nude of course, watching the TV.

However, as I watched, Sam shifted position on the seat, lifting her legs up and putting her feet up on the couch. Slowly, languidly, she spread her legs apart and as I watched, dizzy with anticipation, she began to masturbate.

She stroked herself lazily, half-interestedly at first – slow motions of her hand between her legs. The footage was angled perfectly and was so crisp I could see every detail. As her pleasure increased, so did her motions, her hand becoming more rhythmic as she stimulated her clitoris and even slipped a finger in and out of her moistened fold. With her free hand she first idly tickled her belly, then moved to caress one of her bare breasts, her fingers teasing her own nipple. Her eyes were half closed and her mouth parted in enjoyment as she brought herself closer and closer to orgasm – when, after a few moments, she came, she bucked and arched her back, pushing her sex against her eager hand. There was no sound to the video, but I could tell from her face and body she was moaning with delight.

I was stunned. Sam embracing nudism had given me cause to start thinking of her as grown woman and not my little girl, and of course I had been making her the sole subject of my own deep, dark fantasies for weeks now. But until now I had never witnessed her displaying her own sexuality. Although she was naked around me all of the time, it was (at least it seemed to me) a strangely sexless nudity, on her part. She had been at pains to stress for me that her preference for being without clothes wasn't a sexual kink, that just because she was uncovering her genitals didn't mean she was feeling sexual pleasure from it. So, I had come to consider that while her being naked was turning me on, it wasn't doing the same for her – she was simply the same person as always, just with nothing on.

But here, when she had been alone and in private, I was seeing a different side to Sam. I was seeing her embracing her own sexuality and getting pleasure from her own nakedness, just as it gave me pleasure. I had long ago resigned myself to the assumption that Sam had discovered masturbation and sex – while I'd seen no evidence of either, at the same time I knew it was normal behaviour for a teenage girl to experiment and play with herself and I had never given her any talks or words which I thought might discourage that by painting it as "sinful" or "dirty". I'd simply left her to learn for herself how to touch herself and feel good with it. As for sex – well, she had been out with a few different boys over the past few years and again, I had been fairly liberal in my parenting and just assumed she would be getting up to something, with some of them, without wanting to think too closely about it (she was my little girl, after all).

But now, for the first time, seeing my daughter perform an act of pure sexual pleasure, full of life and enjoyment at her own touch, I was again confronted with my own complex feelings. On the one hand, I felt guilt – she was my own daughter, and I had filmed her masturbating without her knowledge or permission. Imagine how humiliated and embarrassed she would feel to know her father had such footage! Imagine how disgusted she would be to learn I had masturbated myself watching it!

But, on the other hand, I felt overcome with desire. She was beautiful, young, free, in the prime of her sexuality. She was a grown woman, not a child, and I lusted after her as I would any grown woman that age who I had come to observe so intimately. Her constant nakedness around the house, whatever her intention in adopting nudism, had become for me an invitation to make her the object of my fantasies and my voyeurism.

I had crossed so many lines already, but I told myself that there were no more lines I would cross. Sam would never learn of my feelings about her, and I would never lay a hand on her in anything other than platonic, fatherly affection.

--

Of course, in the end, some things couldn't stay hidden.

It was maybe a week or so before Sam's 19th birthday when she found one of the cameras.

The cameras had been so small, and so well-hidden, that I had thought they would never be found. I had almost come to forget they were there. In recent weeks I had been somewhat less obsessed over my footage of Sam. I had still watched it from time to time, of course – but more often I just played back the clip I had of her masturbating if I wanted to get off while looking at her. So in a sense, life had begun to return to normal – well as normal as it gets when you're a single father whose daughter is a dedicated and passionate nudist!

But one day Sam was, I think, exploring one of the bookshelves in the living room and she found where I had hidden one of the cameras. She confronted me about it, angrily, as soon as I got home (funnily enough, she still wasn't wearing any clothes – which meant I got to add "angry and naked" to the states I had seen Sam in).

She demanded to know if it was a camera she had found, and I was helpless to do anything other than admit the truth – I told her it was.

"Did you put it there?" she asked hotly.

I just nodded.

"You were filming me?!" she exclaimed. "Why, daddy?"

I was dumbstruck. I couldn't begin to explain.

Sam gestured to herself, to her naked body. "Was it because of this? Was it because I'm a nudist?"

I said nothing, but she clearly figured it out.

"Oh, dad," she cried, "how could you? What were you doing it for? Were you putting it on the internet?"

That roused me. I shook my head vigorously. "No, baby!" I declared. "Absolutely not! It was..." I trailed off, quietly; "it was all for me."

She looked at me then, saying nothing, her eyes wide and her expression hurt.

"Oh dad," she said again, "you should have just asked..."

With that, she walked out, went up to her room and dressed, then went out. I didn't see her again that night.

--

"You should have just asked..."

That phrase, the last thing Sam said to me that night, kept replaying in my head. What did she mean by that? It was such an odd response.

I would have understood if she had just been angry, hurt, or felt betrayed. I had done something bad – I had secretly filmed my nudist daughter naked, and used the footage to masturbate to. I had absolutely broken her trust, for my own selfish gratification. A daughter should be safe at home with her father, yes even safe enough to walk around naked – Sam had felt that safe, but I hadn't lived up to that. As soon as I realised she had discovered what I had been up to, I had braced myself for the sort of reaction that would confirm all that. Her anger, her tears, her disgust – I deserved all that, I told myself.

But instead, there was just that disappointed, quiet phrase; "you should have just asked." I couldn't figure it out.

Sam stayed out that night. She sent me a short text telling me she'd be staying at a friend's house – when I tried to call after that, her phone was turned off. I thought about pouring out an apology by text but I have never been good at things like that, so I decided to leave it and hope that I would get the chance when I saw her next.

That evening, I was in my study when Sam finally came home. I was just in the process of deleting all the camera programme and recorded footage from my hard drive – it wouldn't mean much, I thought, the damage was already done – but I was so ashamed of myself that I couldn't bear to think of them still being on my computer. I knew I'd never watch them again, not without feeling like the world's worst person, so I thought the best thing I could do would be to just delete everything and bin the cameras.

I'd just finished when I heard the front door go, and Sam ran up the stairs. I caught a glimpse of her as she passed the open study door, a blur in blue jeans and a white top, and then I heard her go into her bedroom.

A couple of minutes passed, as I debated whether to go and speak to her, or whether that would just make things worse. I decided the former, but before I even had chance to get up from my chair, Sam appeared in the doorway.

"Hi dad," she said.

She was naked again. I didn't know quite how to take that. Was it a sign that things were going to be alright between us after all – that she still felt safe enough to practise her nudist lifestyle in my company? Or was it more that she was determined to show me that she was determined to not let her anger or feelings of betrayal towards me sway her commitment to nudism? It was quite confusing, made worse by the million words swimming in my head as I tried to find the right words to say to her.

"Sam," I began. "Are you okay?" She nodded. "Look, baby, I'm sorry, I-"

She put her finger to her lips. "Shush, dad. I need to say some stuff. I think you need to listen to me."

I shut up.

"I know you're sorry," she continued. "You should be sorry. What you did – when I found out, I felt so hurt. That you would do something like that, film me like that, secretly – I never could have imagined you would do that. I might be naked all the time, dad, but that doesn't give you or anyone else the right to violate my privacy. This is my home and it's a private space and that's why I feel safe living here and being naked all the time – you were taking that away from me."

She paused then, as if looking for the right words.

"I know you're sorry, daddy," she said again, "but, the thing is, I think I have to be sorry, too."

I looked at her, confused. What could she possibly have to be sorry about?

"I'm sorry," she said, "because I should have realised how this might affect you. I've been going completely naked around the house for the past couple of months, and I have been giving you sights that every other man I know would kill to see. You may be my dad, but you're also a guy. I should have realised it might put you under a certain amount of... pressure, to be under the same roof as a young female nudist, whether or not we are related. I might not think what you did was nice, but I think I do understand – you were just trying to deal with the temptation that was under your nose all day every day, and you were trying to deal with it in a way that wouldn't harm me, because I'd never know about it.

"The truth is..." she started, then stopped, again trying to find the right words. I just sat, enthralled, as she spoke.

"When I first started doing – this," she gestured to her naked body, "nudism thing, it truly was just like I said it was. I genuinely love nudism, dad. I – I kinda hate clothes. I'd go everywhere naked if I could. I feel so much better like this. This is who I really am, the natural, naked me. And I am so so grateful to you that you put aside any worry or prejudice you might have and let me be myself at home. And when I first started doing it that is all it was, just me being free and comfortable in my own home.

"But," she said, taking a few steps towards me, "then I noticed the way you were looking at me. I felt your eyes on my body. You did it when you thought I wasn't looking, but I knew it. I felt you staring at my breasts. At my butt. At my... pussy. I knew you were looking at me and liking what you saw. I knew you liked seeing me naked, I knew you thought I looked sooo good without my clothes on.

"I knew you were looking," she repeated, walking closer, until she was stood next to me, "and I liked it. I thought about it a lot, daddy, and it felt good. It felt good to know that you were enjoying the show and... to be honest... well, it turned me on."

She squatted down.

"What are you saying honey?" I asked her.

"Well," she replied, "they say every little girl's first crush is her daddy."

And with that she reached her hand into my waistband. I was wearing sweatpants, no underwear, and she instantly took my cock in her warm little hand.

I was stunned, for a second. My cock stiffened at her touch, and she smiled to feel it. But I wasn't prepared for this.

"What... what are you doing?" I asked.

"What we both want," she replied with a smile. "What I want. And what I am pretty sure you want, too." She took her hand out of my pants. "Now, stand up."

Dumbfounded, I did so. Sam shifted position, onto her knees, and before I knew it she had grasped the waistband of my sweatpants and in one quick move had yanked them down. I was bare from the waist down, and my cock stood to attention just inches from her smiling, happy face. I was pretty certain I knew what was about to happen – but was it what I wanted? There was a line here. Well, there were many lines here – at least one had already been crossed when Sam had grabbed my penis. But did I really want to cross another one? If I did, where would it end?

Sam looked appreciatively at my exposed body. She wrapped her hand again around my shaft, then brought her mouth close to me. I felt the hotness of her breath on me, and then she ran her tongue around the head of my cock. It pulsed with pleasure and I breathed deeply.

But this was wrong, wasn't it? She was my daughter!

"Sam..." I managed. "Sam!" She looked up. "Stop this," I said. She let go of my cock, and stood up, looking confused.

"Baby..." I began, "we shouldn't do this."

"Why not?" she asked. "It's what you have been longing to do. I know that now. And I've realised, it's what I want, too. I know it isn't... normal. But so much between us isn't, especially not recently. I've been parading around naked in front of you for months, and you've been secretly recording me – and I know you must have seen more than me eating cereal in my birthday suit; I masturbate, like, everywhere when I'm home alone – and jerking off to it. That's already gone beyond normal!

"But what I've realised, daddy, is that there's something between us. Something that's come out of this. Something good, and exciting, and something I want to explore. And I know you want it. You wouldn't be standing there with me naked and you rock hard if you didn't.

"I just want you to know, it's okay to want it. Because I want it too."

And with that she got back on her knees and wrapped her lips around my cock.

I stiffened further in the warm wetness of her mouth. She teased my shaft with her tongue, lightly pressing her teeth on me as she swallowed me further.

"Keg oor hyurg ogg," she said as she looked up at me. I had to laugh – she had obviously not realised how difficult it would be to talk clearly with her mouth... otherwise engaged.

"Sorry?" I grinned.

She pulled her lips away from my cock with a wet plop.

"Take your shirt off," she repeated. "Please."

I obliged. I might be over 40, but I take care of myself. I'm in the gym a lot and I run, too. I never got the paunch that a lot of guys my age get. I got kinda hairy, more so than in my younger days – I joke that it was to make up for the hair going on my head (I've been shaving my head the past few years, it's the only way to do it when you start to go bald) – but otherwise I think I look, well, if not young, then pretty hard to judge my age. Sam certainly seemed to like what she was seeing – and in a way, it made it seem less weird, what was happening. True, I was getting a blowjob off my own daughter – but if someone who didn't know us had seen us at that point, both nude together, they would have seen a couple - the guy older, certainly, but not old enough to be her father; and, even if I say so myself, they might not have found it so hard to believe that she might be attracted to him.

Sam, satisfied that my nakedness showed I was going to go along with this, resumed sucking me, working my cock by moving her head back and forth. At first, she had her hand wrapped around the shaft of my cock at the base, but after a few moments she released my hand and, choking only slightly, took my full length in her mouth and into the back of her throat. I raised both eyebrows – my little girl had done this before! Of course, as I may have said earlier, I had always assumed that she had now reached an age where she had some sort of experience when it came to guys and sex – but it is one thing to figure your daughter is "probably" fooling around with boys "sometimes" and another to be the recipient of irrefutable proof that not only has she given blowjobs before, but she's given enough to know how to give them well!