Samantha's Christmas with Daddy

My daughter Samantha messaged me that she was just pulling off Highway 12 onto Perkins side road. I put on a pot of coffee and threw another log on the fire. I had spent three days at the cabin prepping for our Christmas together. I dragged the old box of decorations out of the tool shed and chopped and trimmed a scotch pine... a bit of a Charlie Brown effort.

I admit to downing a few too many scotch and sodas as I readied the place but it was certainly homesy, certainly me. Samantha and I had not spent a Christmas up here since my wife Darlene passed. It was too painful for either of us. This spring, however, Sam got married and I wanted to revive the family tradition and include her husband. Our fondest times and memories were linked with Christmas at this cabin. Someday, I dreamed, my grandkids would be joining us as well. I could picture them bursting in wrapped in scarves, mits, gloves and kicking off snow boots, as excited to be at Lake Taronga as Samantha had always been.

I vowed to get closer to David, Samantha's husband, this weekend. To date we had eyed each other with suspicion. I think he was jealous of the relationship Samantha and I had always shared. And, to be fair, I resented that he took my baby girl away from home. I heard their Bronco crunch up the winding driveway and a few minutes later, Sam backed through the door completely loaded down with a bag slung over each shoulder and her arms full of parcels.

"Here's my baby girl." I crossed over to her and relieved her of her luggage loading her boxes and shopping onto the harvest table. She was silent. She had that famous Samantha tight lipped expression which always indicated that she was seething.

"Oh, oh" I quipped. "Looks like a rough car trip. Were you two squabbling the entire way? Don't let it spoil the weekend honey. It's Christmas. Let it go."

Samantha remained tight lipped. She ripped off her winter jacket and threw it on the couch. She grabbed three of the Christmas presents that she had just lugged into the cabin, strode mechanically across the room and tossed them one by one into the fire. She watched them burn and I said nothing. I know my daughter well enough to give her time, time and space. I studied her back as she stared into the fire: anger, sorrow, resentment.

"Oh Daddy, David's not here. He isn't coming." As she spoke she whirled and ran into my arms. She broke into deep sobs as she buried her face in my chest."He... he's having an affair. He is spending Christmas with her. He confessed everything to me two days ago. I refuse to see him again, ever. He's a bastard and a fucking prick and a complete asshole. Oh Daddy." As she cried he body molded into me. Her splendid tits, so reminiscent of her mother's rubbed up and down against my chest and her pubic mound pressed into my crotch. Long suppressed desires shot instantly from my guts, to my nuts and into my swelling prick.

My wife Darlene had been sick for three years before she died so that masturbation was my only sexual release. And, throughout those years Samantha had pranced about the house often only in panties and a bra, often wrapped only in a towel, often in skimpy cut offs or yoga pants. We also spent hours cuddling and wrapped in each other's arms for consolation. I have no idea how I resisted the urge and the call of her compact young body. I suspect it was for love of my wife who lay only steps away in our bedroom. The closest we came to making out were mock tickling and wrestling matches which we sometimes engaged in. Often I sported an erection as we got into these bouts but neither of us ever mentioned it. We each knew, however, that the other was conscious of my aroused cock. Our tickling also got closer and closer to each other's privates, brushing pubic hair, sliding under a breast, glancing over my shaft. I always felt shame after these encounters but still would jerk off ferociously after each session.

I felt that same shame now. Now that Sam cried in my arms and my cock grew laying hard and swollen against my daughter's tummy. She could not miss my erection and may have even pressed herself more tightly into me. She did eventually break off the hug and announced. "I'm getting us both a drink, Dad. And, we are going to get pissed. I deserve it. You deserve it. We deserve it. I sat in my easy chair staring at the fire. My prick remained stiff as a broom handle.

I stayed silent, Samantha would tell the tale in her own time and in her own way. The only time Sam ever got mad at Darlene was when my wife would ply her with questions. I learned long ago to let the girl vent and then her entire tale would unravel. Samantha brought two drinks over to my chair. She paced them on the side table and sat on my lap. Something she had not done since she and David got serious. She snuggled into my chest and played with my shirt collar. My raging hard-on pressed into her taut ass. She looked whimsically at the framed photo of her mother which also sat on the end table..

"Sometimes, I feel like I'm looking into a mirror when I see her."

"You are Sammy. She was your age when I met her. Same red hair curled in a thick lion's mane. Same green eyes. Same build exactly... exactly," I thought about Darlene's chiselled ass and spectacular conical tits and knew precisely what Smantha looked like naked.

"I thought David and I would have a life like you and mom shared. I tried to model it after you guys. When I was little I'd hear you two going at it like rabbits in your bedroom. Don't deny it. At first I thought you were hurting mommy. You two were so sexual with each other, weren't you daddy? I often caught the pair of you fucking or worse. Then I learned to hide and enjoy the whole show." I reddened and was about to speak when she placed a hand over my mouth. "Admit it. You were always boffing each other..."

"Well we were highly sexed people Samantha, who were very much in love.." My cock twitched as we spoke of sex and I felt the weight of her firm ass press down upon it.

"Well, David and I fucked almost every night sometimes twice a night when we got married. I wanted what you two had. I gave him handjobs and blowjobs and anal sex... still... still he sought out that fucking cunt at work. He's with her now...fucking...fucking her now. Spending Christmas with that bitch. I want to go out and spread my legs from wall to wall and get fucked by everyone we know, everyone of his friends. I want him to hear about it I ...I him to watch it." Again she started to cry into my chest. I stroked her hair and kissed the top of her head.

For two months, daddy, he hasn't fucked me for two months. Hasn't laid a hand on me. That's how I know how long they have been screwing each other. Two fucking months and he throws me over for her. And...and she's ten years older than me, eight years older than David." I let her run out of steam and cry it all out. She played with my top shirt button, doing and undoing it as she snivelled.

She got up several times to replenish our drinks always railing about David and the whore at work. Her rant swung from tears to rage and back to tears again. Eventually, we were both tipsy and stared into the embers of the fire. Then, Samantha threw her arms around my neck and kissed me hard on the lips, groaning as she did so. I tried to pull back but she ground her mouth against mine. I relented and inspite of the taboo I cradled her neck in my hand and began to make love to her mouth. Our tongues found each other and we sank into a deep lover's kiss.

Between pants and moans she breathed. "Daddy, make me feel desired... Make me feel wanted...make me feel seductive...Make love to me daddy." She wore a loose shaggy, ski lodge sweater. She took my right hand by the wrist and slid my palm up her stomach,

Until I felt the electrifying contact with firm breast. Instinctively I rolled her nipple between my thumb and forefinger and kneaded the flesh of her tit. My head swam at the awe of fondling my daughter's breast. She responded by sucking on my tongue ardently. She shifted my fondling hand to the other breast.

Samantha felt the occasional reticence on my part, a half pulling away, a less intrusive invasion of my tongue,moments of realization that I was doing this with my daughter...My daughter who was on the rebound. She reacted by increasing her lust and rolling her ass against my straining cock. "Fuck me, Daddy...Fuck me... I want you to Fuck me... Stick your cock into me... I want you to do it...I need you to fuck me."

"But baby, it's not right. It's incest..." I whispered.

"What's not right is what he and that slut are up to. I decided that you would fuck me as I drove up here. I've wanted you to fuck me for years but I didn't have the nerve. I'd tease you relentlessly but neither of us would take the final jump into the abyss. Well, now I want it. I only wish David were here to watch it."

Samantha twisted about on my lap and straddled me in the chair. She pulled the loose sweater over her head and her defiant tits bouned freely before my eyes. They were the image of her mother's with a light dusting of freckles and a puffy areolae. The nipples themselves were long and extended. I began to suck on first one then the other as she cradled my head like a babe. Meanwhile her pussy rode back and forth along my swollen cock. The taboo nature of our actions inflamed rather than doused my lust.

Samantha stood and peeled off her stretch pants. She unzipped my fly and yanked my trousers down. "Get your shirt off Daddy. I want us naked for our first fuck." We tossed all our clothing in heaps on the floor and Samantha once again straddled my thighs. She reached between her legs with both hans and splayed her cunt wide. "Put it in, Daddy. You put it in. Stick your cock in your daughter's cunt."

I was a slave to her passion. I probed about her cunt till I found her sensitive opening and as I thrust up she slammed herself down, ramming my prick inside her upto the pubic bone. She threw back her head and moaned. Then, together we began to fuck. Harsh. Fierce. Animal fucking. We cursed. We prayed. We begged. When we came we thrashed about with long gut wrenching spasms. For a full minute we drove each other. Then we collapsed. Her flopped over me.

I kept my flaccid cock inside her as we recovered.

That night Samantha and I slept together. The alcohol and the unbridled sex made us comatose in each other's arms. I was awoken by her mouth warm and sucking on my extended cock. That weekend we rewrote the Kama Sutra together, taxing both of our imaginations in our depraved sex.

It was a Christmas which marked and stamped our insatiable hunger for incestuous sex...A hunger which we never sated...