Sharing Daddy

(Author's note: Anyone engaged in any sexual activity is over 18.)

*

Daddy and I had been fucking each other for more than a year. He is mine, exclusively. I share his bed every night. I am totally in love with him, and Daddy is in love with me.

I heard his car pull into the driveway, and I greeted him at the front door. Throwing my arms around his neck, I pulled him close to me and covered his mouth with mine. It wasn't a daughterly "welcome home" kiss, it was deep and passionate, including lots of tongue.

"Hi, Daddy."

"Hi, baby girl."

Daddy has called me "baby girl" as long as I can remember, starting when I was a little girl. Now that I'm a grown woman, at nineteen, he still calls me that. I love it.

"Sit down on the couch, Daddy, and I'll mix you a drink."

Daddy is a Scotch drinker, so I poured him a double shot of Glenlivet, with just a splash of soda. I don't like hard liquor, so I had a glass of wine. I snuggled up next to him and asked him about his day.

He is a contractor, specializing in custom homes. Expensive custom homes. The house he built for us is all redwood, natural stone, and lots of glass. It sits on ten acres, surrounded by woods, and we have a beautiful swimming pool in the backyard. Daddy and I swim naked.

Daddy is 42, but he looks ten years younger. He's 6'2" with broad shoulders and narrow hips. He is well muscled, due to his years of construction work. He has blond hair, bleached by the sun, and cobalt blue eyes. I think he looks like a young Robert Redford, with sculpted features and a deep cleft in his chin. He is my idol. My father, my lover, my best friend.

Like I said, we've been lovers for about a year, starting just after my eighteenth birthday. I developed a terrible crush on him just when I entered puberty and my body started to change. I didn't make any overt moves toward him for several years, but I could tell he was looking at me in a different way.

Once my breasts formed their first little buds, they grew rapidly. I was a B cup in the ninth grade, and by the time I was a senior in high school, I had grown into the C cup that I am now.

Daddy was very open and very frank with me when it came to discussing anything of a sexual nature. I learned the mechanics in the Sex Ed class I took at school, and a whole lot more from the other girls, many of whom were sexually active at a very early age.

If I had any questions about sex, Daddy would answer them for me, without any admonishments or judgment. My periods were very irregular, so with Daddy's consent, my doctor prescribed birth control pills to help regulate them. He was quite aware that a lot of teenagers were sexually active, so with the pill, he felt I would be safe. I had a few boyfriends in high school, nothing serious. I did a bunch of making out and a little light touching, through our clothes, but that was the extent of my sexual activity. Until Daddy.

Daddy finished his drink, and I mixed him another one. I sat down beside him, cuddled up, and nuzzled his neck, raining little butterfly kisses all over his face. Fisting his hand in my hair, he pulled my face into his, and crushed his lips down on mine.

Kissing Daddy totally intoxicates me, inflames me with desire. When he kisses me, there is a hotline between my lips and my clit. It starts to tingle, and I squirm next to him. While his tongue was in my mouth, I put my hand on the bulge in his jeans, feeling his erection grow beneath my fingers. His mouth is more insistent as I undo the button on his Levi's and pull the zipper down.

I can hear him groan as my hand reaches under his shorts, wrapping it around his hardened shaft. Gripping him firmly, I slide the loose skin on his penis up and down. I tug on his pants and pull them down, exposing his magnificent cock, totally hard, the bulbous head shining and swollen.

Bending down toward him, I take his cock in my hand and lower my head, taking him in my mouth. Coating him with my saliva, I run my tongue around and around his swollen crown while bobbing my head up and down on him. My tongue flicks over that sensitive place when his head meets the shaft. This drives him crazy, and his hips start to buck, his cock rising up to meet my mouth every time it goes down.

I cupped his balls in my hand, fondling them first, then pulling his scrotum down, in rhythm with my descending mouth. A growl emits from deep in his throat. He throws his head back and fisting both hands in my hair, he pulls my head up and down as his thrusts up into my mouth.

I know he's getting close to his release. He holds me tighter, his balls start to draw up tight, and I can feel the head of his cock swell even more. Gently, I rake my fingernails over his hardened sack, and that pushes him over the edge. Shouting my name, he erupts, shooting wad after wad of cum down the back of my throat.

Swallowing it all, I look at up him and smile. I really love to make him cum like this, because I know how much he'll pay it back when we go to bed that night.

Leaving him sated, I got up and made our supper. Over the years, I've become a really good cook. That night, I made poached salmon, asparagus with hollandaise sauce, and baby red potatoes. I opened a bottle of chardonnay to go with the fish. We had just finished dinner, and I went to the freezer to get a carton of Ben and Jerry's Chunky Monkey, Daddy's favorite, when the phone rang. I answered it, and with a scowl, handed it to Daddy.

"It's HER," I said.

"Her" referred to my mother; I could never call her Mommy or Mom. I hated her. Daddy talked with her for awhile. I couldn't make much from his side of the conversation, except for an "Uh huh." "I see." "Yes." "I'll be there."

"What was that about, Daddy?"

"Well, it seems Christy is coming to live with us."

"Why, for fuck's sake?" I wailed.

Christy is my sister; at eighteen, she's a year younger than I am. When Daddy divorced HER, I was eleven and Christy was ten. The judge decided we were old enough to choose which parent we wanted to live with. I was always Daddy's girl, so I chose him, and Christy chose to live with our mother.

Our mother became a "born again Christian" after she left Daddy, and Christy was sent to a fundamentalist church-run school, back in West Virginia, where they moved to after their divorce.

Daddy and I hadn't seen Christy since she was fourteen, when she came to visit us here in Northern California for a week. She was a skinny, tit-less adolescent with braces on her teeth, zits, and stringy hair. Her mother made her wear totally shapeless long dresses that covered her up from the neck to the ankles.

It turns out that Christy finally rebelled against the sect they belonged to, and once she was considered an adult, no one could force her to stay there any longer. Once she made it known that she wanted to leave, our mother dis-owned her and she was shunned by the church.

"Shit, Daddy, what is this going to do to US?" I practically yelled at him.

"I guess you'll have to move back to your own room, and we'll have to be really discreet when we have sex with each other."

"Shit-fuck-piss-cunt!" I screamed. "This ruins everything for us. Why did you let that little bitch come here?"

"Number one, she is my daughter, and I love her. Besides that, she has no place else to go. And, she's not a little bitch; she's your sister."

"She was always a bitch, even when she was a little girl. We never did get along with each other. And now, I fucking HATE her."

"You don't even know her anymore."

"I don't want to know her. And now I have to share a room with her."

"We're just going to have to suck it up, and make the best of it."

"But Daddy, I love you, and I don't want to sleep alone again. I want to sleep with you."

"I know, baby girl, I want to be with you, too. We'll just have to wait and see what happens. We have a week together before she gets here."

"I'm gonna use that week to fuck your brains out, Daddy." And I did, too.

The next week we picked Christy up at the airport. Our mother was going to have her take the bus, but Daddy sent her the plane fare. I barely recognized her after four years. She had definitely filled out; you could tell even though she wore that awful shapeless dress.

Her braces were gone and her complexion had cleared up. Her blond hair was fixed into a single braid that hung almost down to her ass. Daddy went up to her with his arms wide open, pulling her into his body for a hug. I couldn't stand the idea of her body pressed against his. She didn't return the hug, but just stood there stiffly. That wasn't something that was done by members of her church, especially between men and women.

"Hello, Dad. Hello, Callie," she said, by way of greeting us.

"Thank you for letting me come here to stay with you."

"You're always welcome here, sweetheart. I've really missed you."

I hated that he called her that. I hated that he made her welcome here. She looked like a freak in those clothes; I'd be ashamed to have any of my friends meet her. At least she called him "Dad." He is MY Daddy.

When we got home, Christy wandered around the house, taking it all in. It was a palace compared to where she had been living. It is a palace, and I am the princess. Daddy's princess.

"Will you please take Christy up and show her to your room, baby girl?"

I was really pissed off, not only because I was being booted out of Daddy's room, but that I had to share mine. Our house has three bedrooms, but Daddy uses one for his office. She picked up one of her suitcases; I grabbed the other one, and went up to MY bedroom.

When he found out Christy was coming, Daddy took the queen sized bed out of my room and replaced it with two singles. I gave her the one by the inside wall, and took the bed by the window for myself. We dumped her luggage on her bed and I showed her where she could hang her clothes in the closet. Daddy had bought another dresser.

She opened her bags and started to put her clothes away.

"Is that all you have? All the dresses are the same."

"I hate these clothes, but they're all I was allowed to wear."

"Don't you have any jeans or anything?"

"Only men were allowed to wear pants; women always had to wear dresses. I'd love to wear jeans, but I don't have any."

Her eyes misted up, and a tear ran down her cheek. Suddenly, I felt very sorry for her, and it started to touch my heart. I hated that she would be keeping me from Daddy, but it wasn't really her fault. I got a pair of my jeans and a tee-shirt out of my dresser. She looked to be about my size, although it was hard to tell with that baggy dress on.

"Here, try these on," I said, handing her my clothes.

She started toward the bathroom to change.

"You don't have to go into the bathroom; you can change right here."

"I, um, I'm not used to taking my clothes off in front of anybody."

"For Christ's sake, Christy, we're both girls. We used to run around naked together when we were little. Take your fucking dress off so I can see what else I have that might fit you."

She totally cringed hearing my language, but that's the way I talk, and she'll need to get used to it. She took a deep breath and, turning her back to me, started to unbutton her dress. It had a lot of buttons on it; I guess they didn't believe in zippers.

Shyly, she slipped the dress off and stood there in her underwear. She wore a thick white cotton bra that completely covered her tits, made of material so thick you'd never know she had nipples. Her underpants--you certainly couldn't call them panties--were also white cotton and rode high enough to cover her belly button.

Christy had definitely filled out. Her body was lush; curvy in all the right places, with a nice rack and round, heart-shaped ass. As a matter of fact, we could be twins. Not to be boasting or anything thing, but I have a hot bod--and I know it. And I show it. Daddy gets a hard-on just looking at me.

I was going to take a shower, so I started taking my clothes off too. Christy did a double-take when she looked at my underwear. I was wearing a black lace bra that lifted my tits, barely covering my nipples, which you could see right through the sheer fabric. I wore French cut bikini panties. Daddy buys all my sexy underthings and negligees; he loves to see me in them. And he really likes taking them off me.

Standing there in her ugly underwear, she looked at mine again, so I went into my dresser and pulled out a sexy white lace bra and matching panties. I didn't think she was ready for a thong yet, so these were low-cut bikinis, similar to what I was wearing.

"Here," I said, handing them to her, "you can wear these." She looked shocked for a minute, then smiled. I stripped down naked, ready for my shower. Christy was studying my body as I sauntered toward the bathroom. When I finished my shower, she was standing in front of the full length mirror on the wall, checking herself out from every angle.

She sat down on her bed while I was dressing, and when I turned around, tears were running down her cheeks. I stood stock still for a moment, then went over and wrapped my arms around her, holding her tight and rocking her as she sobbed. As much as a hard-ass that I tend to be, underneath it all I have a really soft heart. As much as I wanted to hate her, I couldn't do it. Although we didn't get along with each other when we were younger, I loved her. And I still do.

"What's wrong, Christy? Tell me about it."

Her body-wracking sobs subsided, and she sat up straight, wringing her hands in her lap. She looked at me plaintively, her eyes red from crying.

"I don't know where to begin. My life is just so messed up. I don't know who I am or what I'm doing, or where I belong."

I wanted to hug here and tell her that she belonged here, but it would thoroughly fuck up my relationship with Daddy. I didn't know what we were going to do. I encouraged her to talk it out, so maybe she'd feel better getting it out of her system.

"I didn't fee like I belonged in Mom's church community. They're all so radically fundamentalist. The only book we were allowed to read, besides our school books, was the Bible. I love to read and I'd sneak novels into my room at night, but if I got caught with one, I'd get whipped. We weren't allowed to watch TV, except for religious shows on Sunday, and we could only listen to Christian music. Occasionally I'd go to somebody else's house and watch TV or listen to popular music."

"That must be awful," I said.

"I could see on TV or in magazines how regular people lived, and I want to do that too. I see people kissing, and I want to know what that's like. I don't even know how to kiss. Whenever I see it or think about it, I get funny feelings in my body that I can't explain."

"What kind of feelings in your body?"

"Like kind of a tugging feeling low in my stomach and a tingling, um, down, ah, there."

"Down where?"

"Um, down between my legs."

"You mean in your pussy?"

"My what?"

"Right down here," I said, grabbing my crotch.

"You call it a pussy?"

"Pussy, cunt, twat, cooze, and a couple dozen other words. What do you call it?"

"Well, I know all the proper--at least the medical-- names for all the body parts. I looked at a copy of Grey's Anatomy in my doctor's office. So that would be my, er, vagina," she said, blushing scarlet.

"Don't you take care of it when you get turned on like that?"

"Turned on? I don't know what you mean. Take care of what?"

"Turned on means you are sexually aroused. And you take care of it by masturbating."

"I heard some of the girls at my school talking about that, but I have no idea how to do it."

"I can show you how to do it. Take your bra and panties off and lie down on your bed."

Christy stuttered and blushed again, but I guess her curiosity overcame her modesty, she unhooked her bra and slid her panties down her legs. I stripped out of mine and turned to face her. Her eyes were wide as she looked over my body, and she started when she looked between my legs. "You, um, you don't, uh, you don't have any hair down there?"

"I shave it. Dad-- I mean, guys like it like that."

"Y-you let boys see it?"

"Yeah, I do." Actually, Daddy is the only "boy" that's ever seen it, and I hope he'll always be the only one. "Does that bother you?"

"This is all a lot for me to process at once, but I guess it doesn't bother me. Actually, thinking about it gives me that tingly feeling."

"Well, I'll show you the kind of BIG tingle that you'll never forget."

I was really getting turned by the idea of it, too. I'd never been that close to a naked girl either. Her body was really lush, and I wanted to touch her. All over. I took a step closer to her and put my arms around her waist.

"If you're going to give yourself an orgasm, the more aroused you are to start, the more intense it will be. I'll start by teaching you how to kiss. Put your arms around my neck and pull me close to you."

Hesitatingly, she did what I asked, and with my arms around her waist, I pulled her close to me. Our breasts pressed together and I could feel an electricity run through my body; my nipples immediately hardened. I tilted my head and pressed my lips against hers. Her mouth was rigid, lips closed tightly together. I kissed her lightly and pulled away.

"Okay, open your mouth a little bit." I put a finger, longwise, between her lips and ran it up and down. "Okay, loosen up, and keep your mouth open. Then follow my lead and do what I do back to me."

I kissed her again, and tentatively, she returned it. We kissed some more, and she was beginning to get the hang of it. I was getting turned on and, judging from her breathing, Christie was too. Her eyes opened in wide surprise when I slipped my tongue in her mouth. I explored the inside of her mouth, and when I started rubbing my tongue against hers, she picked it up and reciprocated.

I drew her tongue into my mouth and sucked hard on it. Her breath was coming in gasps; our bodies slithering and sliding against each other. I could feel the wetness in my pussy. I pulled her over to the bed and we lay together, still locked in a tight embrace.

By this time, I had forgotten that I was just going to teach her how to masturbate. I had never been with, or touched another girl before. Her body, her skin, felt wonderful under my hands. I moved a hand up to her breast, gently feeling all the contours, then squeezing and kneading.

Christie looked at me; her eyes had lost any sense of apprehension or wariness, she looked lost in lust.

I skimmed my hands over her nipples, feeling them harden and pooch out from her puffy areolas. She started to moan when I rolled them between my thumbs and forefingers. She cried out when I pulled on them, but it was a pleasure cry, not one from pain.

I really wanted to suck her tits, but I didn't want to freak her out completely, so I let my hand travel down between her legs. It had been a long time since I'd felt any pubic hair, since I shave mine. Hers was soft and silky, and I combed my fingers through it. I caressed her mound, and as my hand went lower and lower, she started to writhe. Cupping her pussy, I squeezed and released, squeezed and released, massaging her fat outer lips, that were now swollen with her arousal.

I dipped my middle finger into her slit and ran that up and down a few times. She was soaking wet, and the odor coming from her was turning me on harder and harder. I wanted to put my head down there to lick and taste her; instead I put my fingers in my mouth and sucked on them to see if she tasted any different than I do. It was similar, but hers is a little tangier.

My fingers went back into her slit, and when I reached her vagina, I dipped one in there. She gasped at the invasion, then settled back and whimpered as I ran my finger around and around inside her, touching all her hot slippery walls.