Sleepwalking Daddy

"Yes?"

"Like I said: don't freak out. I just wanna know ... did you and mom ... have a good sex life?"

I could see him blushing, clearly taken aback. I didn't fold, though. I sat still, eating, waiting for his answer. I wanted to know.

"Well, I... we... erhm..."

"Mhm?"

"Well, we were a young, married couple, so... you know... mhrm..."

"Go on." I said, letting him see that I wasn't letting this one go.

"Well if you must know, yes. Yes, we did. Why... why are you asking?"

"I was wondering if that's the kind of thing that could be the underlying cause of your nightly antics."

"Oh, I see!" he exclaimed, seemingly having believed I was asking about something else. I wondered what. "Ah, now... well... hm... Yes, that's interesting..."

"I read this article... Basically, it said that having sex is an important part of good mental health."

This was actually true, I just remembered. I had read something about that a while back and it suddenly popped into my head. Thanks, Cosmo. Or was it Scientific American? After all my studying recently, I couldn't even remember anymore where I got all that stuff in my head. My brain leapt at the opportunity, however, deflecting any notion he might have of where I got my curiosity from away from me and onto science.

"Seriously, I never see you with anyone, you don't go out on dates either..."

"What about Christine?"

"That was three years ago, dad."

"Oh. That long, huh?"

"Yeah. You hermit. I mean, I'm old enough now not to need a sitter either, so you can try to go on a date every now and again. Maybe ... you know... find a hot babe and get laid?"

"Sweetie, is this really a conversation ..."

"I've had sex, dad."

"Er... yes... right... You ... yes, when you and Mike... I suppose..."

"Come on, let's be adults about this. You're an attractive guy in your forties, I really think you should try to date someone. If you and mom had such a great sex life, maybe that's what's missing? Maybe if you just ... got off a bit more often, you'd stop walking in your sleep."

"I'm not sure it's that simple, sweetheart." he said and smiled sympathetically. "But thank you for your concern."

"Real talk, dad: I'm worried about you. If I'm going away next year, I won't be here to stop you from sleepwalking anymore. It would be great if we could solve this problem by then. I'd really hate it if you burned the house down."

The conversation died down as we finished our meal. I was going swimming with Becky and Rita later, so I needed to get going anyway. As I jogged up the stairs, I once again glanced at one of the photos of mom and dad. She really was gorgeous. That yellow dress too... it looked really good on her. Hadn't I seen that somewhere, actually? In a drawer or something? I went for a quick and discreet look in dad's drawers but didn't find anything. I guess it would have been a bit weird for a man to keep his deceased wife's dress in his drawers more than fifteen years after her passing. I was pretty sure I remembered it from somewhere, though. Leaving the matter for now, I took my backpack and left for my date with my friends.

I arrived home late. Tired. A good kind of tired, though. We had been out all day, hanging out in the park, going swimming in the swim team's pool, then we met some of the guys from school for a burger ... it was all very good fun. Took my mind off all the serious shit I'd been thinking about recently. When I came home, dad was already getting ready for bed and only then did I think to resume the search I had started earlier. Sometimes, if I just took my mind off a problem for a while, the solution would pop up on its own. Like when you can't remember the name of a song, if you just think about something else for a while, it comes back to you later.

I started digging my way into the back of the closet upstairs, past the boxes of stored winter clothing and back to a box I knew was in there somewhere. A box with some of our family mementos. As I pulled it out and put it on the floor in front of me, I could already see some yellow fabric sticking out from under the lid. I opened it to find some photo albums, a couple of letters, some other small items and, indeed, the yellow summer dress, neatly rolled up and packed away. I guess dad just hadn't wanted to throw this away and kept it along with some of the other small things in here. Why this particular dress, though? It must have some really significant meaning to it.

I folded it out and held it up to the light. It actually looked pretty close to my size. Maybe I could...? Wasting no time, I took off my clothes and slid into the dress. It fit me pretty well, I thought, so I left the closet and went out into the hallway to have a look in the full-size mirror on the wall there. Sure enough, it did indeed fit well over the shoulders, was draped nicely around my hips and my breasts were flatteringly presented. Something was a bit off, though, and I went to grab that photo off the wall to compare. Damn, mom looked hot in it. I wondered if I could ever look that hot.

I looked closer and although it took me a few seconds, I suddenly realized that there were no panty lines in that photo -- she was not wearing anything underneath. I reached down and pulled down my panties, and then slipped off my bra as well before returning to the mirror. Yep, that did it. This kind of dress definitely looked hotter without underwear. It was thin and loose like summer dresses should be, yet somehow it was also tight and clung to my skin as if the fabric was charged with static electricity. The cleavage was a perfect balance between decent and provocative, putting my supple breasts on a suitable display without showing too much skin. That curve down my sides from shoulders to hips, the dress accentuated it perfectly rather than hang straight down and hide it like most dresses in my drawer would do. Wow, I thought. Just... wow. How did I not have a dress like this?

Suddenly, I heard a voice behind me.

"Love that dress..."

"Oh! Dad... you startled me." I said as I glanced over my shoulder. "I thought you'd gone to bed already. Sorry about the... I just wanted to try it on, it's so beautiful..."

"You are beautiful." I heard his voice coming closer as I kept looking in the mirror

"Aww thanks, dad. It does look nice on me, doesn't it?"

"Mhm..."

"Do you think... could I keep it...? I mean, it does fit me... only if it's okay with you, though, I just want you to be happy..."

"Mmh... you make me happy." he said, coming all the way up to me and embracing me from behind. Then he kissed my neck.

"Uh... dad?" I whispered, but got no reply.

He started nibbling at me. Kissing, sucking, nibbling. Back of the neck, up the side, earlobe... His hands became more active too, first holding the sides of my hips and then slowly moving upwards until they slid up front, grabbing hold of my breasts.

"Oh..." I moaned, realizing what was happening.

His voice, the expression on his face, his movements... he was definitely not awake.

"Mmmmmhh..." he moaned as he pulled me backwards, into a firm embrace.

"Oh!" I moaned again, involuntarily, from the things he was doing to me; kissing my neck, kneading my breasts...

I felt myself getting excited. Nipples hardening under his firm grasp. Tingling feelings between my legs. My breath shortening, heartbeat quickening. I couldn't believe what was happening. Was he really making a move like this? What I had done with him in bed felt like an accident -- a step-by-step escalation of events that was in quite a large part caused by me. This ... this was him.

"What... what do you want, daddy...?" I muttered as the feeling of his stroking hands really started to get to me.

"Mmm... want you..."

"Want me...?"

The words made me feel so good. To be wanted. To turn somebody on. It's so awesome. Even if what he saw in his head right now was mom in her yellow summer dress, what he was doing to me felt so good, I realized I really wanted more. Could I stop him? Should I? Yes, said the angel on my shoulder -- no, said the devil.

"Mh... pleasure..."

"Y-yes! Yes, I wanna give you pleasure!" I quickly replied, the devil clearly scoring another win.

Dad's hands moved up my thighs, bringing the dress up with them, pulling it up and leaving my butt naked and exposed. I could feel the fabric of his boxers against my skin as I started rubbing myself against him.

"Mmmmmh..." he started moaning -- I could feel his hardness poking at me.

"Aren't these in the way...?" I said, teasingly, as I reached back and started to pull them down.

"Mmhm..."

"Do you want to ... take me to bed...?"

I got no reply. Instead, my heart skipped a beat as he suddenly bent me forward and used one of his feet to push my legs apart.

"Oh! Uh... right here? Dad, are you going to...?"

He was. This was happening. Fast.

"URH!" he groaned loudly as he shoved his erect phallus into my delicate flower.

"Shit! Oh, fuck! Oh my God, dad!"

He didn't give me any time to consider what to do. He just took me. I started moaning uncontrollably as the brief pain from his rough initial penetration was replaced by pleasure. My pussy was quickly getting soaked.

"Uh! Uhh! UHH!" he moaned as his breathing grew heavier and more frantic.

"Oh! Yes! Yes!" I went as he fucked me from behind right there in front of the mirror.

I looked up and saw my own face moving closer to the mirror with every thrust. His hands controlled the action, holding my hips and pulling me back onto his shaft, penetrating me right there in the hall.

My palms pushed against the wall on either side of the mirror. I was getting fucked right there! No foreplay, no teasing, no being careful or quiet. He just fucked me. Hard. Until he came. He grabbed my hips and drove himself even harder and rougher into me. Groaning louder and louder, he let himself go and fucked me so hard it actually hurt -- making me squeal in a mixture of pain and pleasure. Then he stopped pounding, pushed himself all the way in and held me there, squirting his full load of cum into my fertile teenage cunt.

"UHH! HUHH! HUHHH!" he groaned as he pulled at me, using my pussy to get himself off.

"Huff... uff...." I panted, getting winded by the short but frantic fuck.

I stood still, taking it. Letting him fill me with his cum -- but also with a sense of fulfillment. I was turning into his cum slave, wasn't I ... if there was such a thing. I felt like there should be. A girl he could cum in. A hole he could use to make himself cum. Fuck, I loved that idea. Without thinking, I put my hand back and started pulling at his cock as he began sliding out. Stroking it underneath, milking it to get all the cum out. To get it all into me.

He made me all wet and sticky inside. Filled my hole with his fluids. It felt so forbidden. My dad was shooting his semen deep, deep inside his daughter's unprotected cunt, filling me with his potent seed. At that moment, I shuddered at the idea of his motile sperm cells swimming inside me, searching for my egg, looking to impregnate me. I nearly came, just thinking about it...

Looking down between my legs, I caught a glimpse of what happened when he pulled out. What happened was that a stream of cum leaked out of my hole, and threads of sticky goo also hung between his cock and my pussy as it came out.

"Ohmygawd..." I moaned and looked at the threads hanging and dripping from him.

I felt a strong urge to taste them -- take his cock in my mouth like those dirty girls in the porn movies and swallow everything that came out. Problem was, I couldn't move. I was frozen in place, arms and legs shaking with exhaustion. I just stood there, trying to breathe, trying not to pass out.

Before I knew it, it was over. He was done with me. His cock slid out of my pussy and I immediately felt like I missed having him inside me. Dad shuffled off to his room and I collapsed onto the floor, dizzy with confusion and excitement. My legs were shaking.

"Did he just ... use me?" I mumbled to myself.

He did, didn't he? And I liked it? Uh, yeah, I did. No question.

I guessed the dress could have brought back some memories, and now I was really getting curious as to what kind of sex life he and mom had been having before I was born. Damn, he just pulled up my dress, shoved his cock in my pussy and fucked me hard until he came, then he left as soon as he had gotten what he wanted. I didn't get any orgasm out of it, I'd hardly had time to build up to it at all -- it was just about him and getting him off. He had used me to get off. Normally, I would have thought such a thing to be pretty inconsiderate, but in this case... I liked it. I also had to play maid; his cum had been dripping all over the floor in the hall, so now I had to clean it up. Still reeling from what had happened, I went to the bathroom to get some towels. Afterwards, I went to sleep -- in my own bed.

The next morning, I got my period. I felt relieved. This thing had gotten really out of hand, really fast. Twice now dad's cock had been inside me, squirting its full load of semen deep within. I decided to stop by the school nurse this very afternoon to get some advice. In the mean time, though, I needed to think. Could this really be the thing dad needed? Sex, orgasms, companionship in bed? He hadn't walked in his sleep last night ... well, he had, but not after our little tryst.

My brain started evaluating the situation, helped along by the eager devil on my shoulder. If this was really working, as seemed to be the case ... and since I seemed to enjoy this so much... why not continue? Could I not be there for him, to give him what he needed? The more I thought about it, the more sense it seemed to make. It was all perfectly reasonable, the devil in me said convincingly. I really wanted to help dad, and if he didn't find a suitable date, could I not just ... fill in? For the time being, at least? I had already done it, after all, so ...

Oh, shut up, devil, I thought as I joined my father at the breakfast table. He had an early meeting, so we didn't have much time to talk, but I started to feel like I really wanted to. I was terrible at secrets, and holding this in just felt... wrong. He had always been the one I came to when I needed to get something off my chest -- and the more we sat together and talked about nothing, the more I realized that I desperately wanted to tell him everything. What had happened between us. How good it had felt for me. How good it felt that I could do this for him ... Be there for him, give him what I felt he obviously needed.

But no. I was afraid, of course. I couldn't say it, for fear of what it would do to us. For fear it would end. End the sex, end our relationship, end our living together, end ... us. Maybe he'd send me away, maybe he'd be so ashamed he'd take it out on himself, maybe he'd be angry ... Whatever his reaction would be, I felt sure it wouldn't be positive. He wouldn't say:

"That's OK, sweetheart, I'm glad you want to help me, and of course you can be my lover and have sex with me as often as you'd like."

He wouldn't say that. He wouldn't say:

"I'd love to have sex with my teenage daughter every night so that I can sleep afterwards."

No, he wouldn't say that either. He wouldn't say:

"We are having sex while I'm sleepwalking? We should film it so I can re-live the moments of passion!"

No, he wouldn't say that either. It would probably go something more along the lines of:

"Oh, God, what have I done? With my own flesh and blood -- I must be insane!" and then he'd call a psychiatrist for both me and himself. Or the cops, maybe.

I actually wasn't sure if what we were doing was illegal. I was of age, after all, and I would never claim that what he was doing was raping me. I was consenting. Not sure what could be said about the other way around, though. Can you consent when you're asleep? No probably not... did that mean I was actually doing something illegal to him? But what if you're sleepwalking and you are the initiating party? That thing last night, I didn't start it, he just ... took me.

I didn't mention any of my thoughts on this to dad. I just couldn't bring myself to say anything. So I kept a straight face. When he looked at my thoughtful expression and asked what I was thinking about, I didn't say:

"Daddy, you fucked me last night."

No, I didn't say that. Nor did I say:

"Daddy, you've been having sex with me for a while now and I don't mind, because it's so good that I think we should do it every night!"

No, that wouldn't work either. I didn't go with full honesty and say:

"Daddy, just so you know -- you've been sleepwalking and having sex with me in your sleep, and I absolutely love it. I think this could be the solution to the problem, never mind the psychiatrist, just fuck your daughter!"

No, when dad asked me what was on my mind, I just went:

"Oh, nuthin', really. Time for school -- see you later!" and left the table.

Then I went to school and tried very hard not think too much about my dad's throbbing cock penetrating my tight, wet teen pussy.

Right after class, I went to see the nurse. These thoughts I'd been having ... yeah, so, dad had cum inside me. Several times. It felt really good while he did it, and some primal part of me seemed to really get a kick out of the idea that I was being pumped full of cum like nature intended ... but I was not stupid. I was not.

My thoughts went to that dumb bitch Lizzy at our school who had gotten knocked up by her loser boyfriend -- we all knew what kind of trouble she was in. She could forget about college, she was stuck at home for the next five years, at least. That kind of thing wasn't going to happen to me. When I got pregnant, it would be at a time when I was ready for it. When I had a career and enough money to handle it. When I wanted it. The decision would be mine. My life, my control. My ... dad...

Shit, there it was again. That shiver down my spine. But no. No. Not this time. I would not let my lust rule my head. I would definitely not let my dad get me pregnant -- at certainly not without his consent.

"But would you ... WITH it...?" the devil on my shoulder started hinting.

"Oh, shut up, you." I said out loud, making a couple of jocks turn their heads as I made my way past them.

The nurse and I had a really nice talk. She was a bit surprised that I was not on birth control already, despite being over eighteen, since most girls at this age are usually on something. That said, she warmly recommended the latest contraceptive implant rather than the old fashioned pill. If I had this thing inserted while I actually had my period, it would start to work immediately. Then it would keep working for three whole years. I made an appointment at the clinic the very next day.

After the implant had been inserted by means of a simple procedure, I left the clinic relieved that I was now safe from possible repercussions. Driving home, though, I started to think about what this really meant. It meant I was protecting myself in case something happened. That if something was to happen at a party ... maybe I'd hook up with a guy after a concert, or maybe I'd start flirting with a guy in college, one thing would lead to another and before we knew it, we'd be getting it on like horny rabbits ... If something like that happened, at least I'd be protected. It was one of those things that was just good to have done, to get it over with.

That's what I kept telling myself on the way home from the clinic. That this was a general protective measure. I couldn't escape another fact, though... It meant that I was going to fuck my dad again. He was going to have sex with me again. He was going to ejaculate inside me again. Having gone through this procedure was the same as admitting to it. I had just brutally shot down the little angel and placed the devil on a throne in the parts of my brain responsible for decision making.