Teaching His Daughter

I'm a writer; I always have been. The minute I learned how to write, I was telling stories of unicorns and knights rescuing princesses. They were terrible - I mean, I was five! But as I grew up and kept writing, my stories grew and flourished until I was really good at it. When I discovered that fanfiction was a thing that people read online, I started writing my favorite book and movie characters in new situations. I became extremely popular, with thousands of followers waiting every week for my newest story. Being wanted, being loved, by people you don't even know? It's an amazing feeling.

But right now, as I procrastinate my college homework by staring at my laptop screen, I am well and truly stuck. This? This is a horrible feeling. This sucks. I know exactly what I need to write, but I can't get the words out. The longer I sit here, the more frustrated I get. Finally, I close my laptop and hop off my bed. Maybe a break will help me.

I head downstairs and grab a bottle of tea out of the fridge. I hop onto the couch in the living room and turn on the TV. Watching chefs sabotage each other is always fun, and I quickly lose myself in the ridiculousness of the show. Time flies by; I watch episode after episode with no idea that I'm burning daylight. It's so easy to just get lost in something you're really invested in. It happens to me all the time when I'm writing.

"Hey, Jennie." I jump as the front door closes beside me. My dad just got home from work. He's a factory man, so he gets home around 2:30, hours before my 9-to-5 mom. I'm usually in one of my long classes or hanging out with friends when he gets home, so this is definitely out of the norm for me.

"Oh, hey! Sorry, I lost track of time." I reach for the remote to change it to his preferred TV station.

"No, leave it on this channel. I have to shower and change. It's a hot one today." He disappears into the master bedroom for a while. When he comes back out, he's wearing shorts and a T-shirt, a far cry from the jumpsuit and boots he wears to work. It's nice to see him so relaxed for once. He drops onto the couch beside me and drapes his arm over the back of the couch. "So, why are you out here?"

"I have writer's block, so I'm taking a break." I smile and pull my bare legs closer to my body. I'm wearing really short jeans shorts and a crop top because today was a real scorcher. I feel a little awkward being so undressed in front of him. I tug my shirt down a little bit to make sure that my bare breasts are hidden. How embarrassing would it be if he saw my naked titties?

"Oh? Maybe I can help. Sometimes you gotta talk it out." He shifts so he's facing me. "What's your story about?"

My face burns with embarrassment. "It's...uh...well, you know it's Marty and my one-year anniversary next week."

"Yeah, I remember. I'm sorry you can't go to the convention with him this year."

I shrug. I'm not resentful. My convention ticket money went to fixing my car after an accident last month, and my parents can't afford to send me themselves. It's a shitty situation, but it's nobody's fault. "I'm not worried about it. Yeah, it sucks, but I'll survive."

"What does that have to do with your writer's block?"

"We...we're writing stories for each other as gifts."

"That's sweet." He smiles encouragingly. "What's yours about?"

"It's...um...it's a dirty story."

"You're writing porn, huh?" He chuckles. "Well, just write what you know. Simple."

My face is redder than a firetruck. "I...I don't know anything about it. I've never...you know..."

Dad stares at me in surprise, his eyebrows shooting up into his shaved forehead. "You've never had sex before? Really?"

"Really, really." I shrug, trying to play it off as no big deal. Lots of girls wait to find the right guy before they give it up, right?

"Wow. That's...surprising."

"Why?"

I glance at him and notice him shifting his weight. "I... you're a very attractive girl, Jennie. I'm surprised you haven't had any takers, that's all."

"I haven't offered. I'm waiting to find the right guy."

"And you think that Marty is the right guy?"

"Maybe. I mean, we've been together for over a year, and the most we've done is send nudes. We haven't done anything else."

"Huh." His eyes roam my body for a moment before flicking back to the TV. "So, you're not sure what to write because you've never done it."

"Yup."

"Why not watch some porn and describe what you see?"

"Porn is so fake." I haven't watched porn in years for that very reason. The buxom blondes with fake boobs bigger than their heads, the dicks so long that I could pole dance on one... it's ridiculous. "I read stories. They're more realistic. That makes them so much hotter."

"So why not copy what you've read? I'm sure he won't notice if you send him your favorite story and change the names."

"Because, for one, it wouldn't mean anything. It would be like me stealing your power tools and giving them back to you for Christmas. Besides, I've already shown him my favorite stories. He'll recognize them immediately. I have to write something real, something from the heart."

"That's a tough one." He drums his fingers on the back of the couch, resting his other hand in his lap. "How about you combine the best elements of your favorite stories? Take a little from one, a little from another...rewrite it to make it yours."

"That was the plan, but I'm so hung up on if it's realistic or not that I'm scared to write anything."

"Tell you what." Dad turns to face me again. "You go upstairs. Write down what you think is the sexiest thing that could happen between you two. When you're done, bring it downstairs and I'll read it for you, tell you what needs changed."

"You'd do that for me?"

He shrugs nonchalantly. "Of course. You're my daughter. It's my job to help you, right?"

I leap to my feet, beaming. "You're the best, Dad! Thank you so much!" I plant a kiss on his cheek before bouncing up the stairs. Already my mind is racing with the sexiest things I can think of. I snatch my laptop and begin writing as fast as I can, trying to milk this surge of inspiration for all its worth before it shrivels up and dies. I'm up there for over an hour, typing faster than I've ever typed in my life. Turns out writing sex is a lot of fun! And it's really turning me on - I squirm every so often as my panties start to get wet and the folds between my legs starts begging for attention. I should stop and masturbate, but I can't. If I'm not horny when I write this, it won't come out as sexy as I want it.

I finally finish the story and hit print. While I'm waiting for the old printer to warm up enough to print my ten page story, I debate whether I should masturbate or not. I don't want to be all hot and bothered when Dad reads my story. But Mom will be coming home soon, and I REALLY don't want her to know that I let my father read my sex story. I decide to push my desires aside for the moment; I've been horny at school before, so I have plenty of practice there.

I skip down the stairs with the warm sheets of freshly printed paper and sit down next to my dad. He mutes the TV, takes the story from my hand, and starts to read it. I turn on subtitles so I can still watch while he reads, but I can't focus on what's happening. My hands are shaking in my lap, and my foot is bouncing uncontrollably. Not only has Dad never read my writing before, but this is also my first time writing a sex scene. I'm incredibly nervous right now.

"All right," he finally says, gesturing that I should get a little closer. "It's not bad, but I definitely saw a few things that need changing."

"Like what?"

"Well... let's start at the beginning and work our way down from there. You've never french kissed before, have you?" I shake my head. "You've seen it in movies though, right? You kind of have the right idea. Tongue in mouth. That's right. But you jump right into it. You have to start slow, with regular kissing for a while. You know what regular kissing is like, right?"

I plant a light peck on his cheek. "Like that?"

"Ehh...it's good for when you're showing affection, but not when you're trying to make out. Give me your hand." I offer my hand, and he gently plants a kiss on the heel of my thumb. "Notice how my lips are moving against your hand. Like sucking, in a way. Can you see what I'm saying?"

"Sort of. I think I'd understand better if you had, like, a doll or something to practice on."

Dad frowns. "I don't have a doll. The only other person around is...well, you. I can't kiss you, now, can I? You're my daughter. It's wrong."

I giggle nervously. "I mean...it's just a kiss. And it's not like we're doing it for the wrong reasons. You're teaching me how to do it right. It's just kissing. As long as we don't go any farther, it should be fine."

His brow furrows in thought. "...all right," he agrees reluctantly. "Scoot a little closer."

I do, pulling my legs under me so that I'm tall enough to reach him. He wraps his hand around the back of my neck and pulls me in for a gentle kiss. His lips massage mine like soft warm fingertips. I mimic what he's doing, working my mouth up and down and gently sucking his bottom lip between mine.

I definitely should have masturbated first. The urges I've been suppressing come flooding back, my inner lips begging for attention. Even though he's my dad, this is the first time I've made out with anyone. I am finally understanding why teens at the park are all over each other. This is...kinda hot.

We kiss for about thirty seconds before he pulls away again. "All right, you've got that down. You're a good kisser, even for your first time. You'll only get better with practice. Now let's move into french kissing. Kiss the top of the lips, the bottom of the lips, then graze your tongue between the lips and slowly add a little tongue. Nice and slow. Don't force it, or it'll make things awkward. You understand?" I nod. "All right. We'll kiss normally for a few seconds, and then I'll initiate. Pay attention to what I'm doing for a bit; then I want you to do the same thing back to me. All right?"

I nod again and lean in for another kiss. True to his word, within a few seconds, he's beginning to pay more attention to the slit between my lips. He nibbles my bottom lip before sweeping it with his tongue. I shudder and suppress a moan. This is so incredibly hot. I'm definitely going to have to take a masturbation break after this. I want to run my hands all over his body and plant myself in his lap, stepdad or not. Right now, the lines are getting awfully blurry. My brain knows he's my dad and I can't - but my pussy is screaming that he's a man and a man is what I need right this very second.

After two full minutes of making out like horny teenagers, we finally pull apart. We're both panting like we've run a marathon. "All right," he gasps, pinching the bridge of his nose. "You've...uh... you've definitely got the hang of that. Whoo! Haven't kissed like that since I was your age. Whoof. All right. Let's move on to the next part." He grabs the discarded papers and skims the first few paragraphs to find his place. "Okay. You do a lot of touching with sex, and it seems like your characters are avoiding each other like the plague."

"What kind of touching?"

"Oh, there's all sorts. Guys love being touched, and so do girls. She could run her hands over his chest while he squeezes her thigh, for example."

"Like this?" I lean in and drag my fingers over his chest. His hand, true to his idea, finds my thigh and squeezes gently. My pussy screams at the attention; I'm so glad his hand isn't any closer to it, or he'd see how drenched I am.

"Just like that, yes. There's all sorts of touching. Both guys and girls have spots on their body that can stimulate the senses with the lightest touches. Some people like chests, some like legs, some even like feet and armpits. Everyone is different."

"Do you have any spots like that?" I ask innocently. I have no intention of actually touching those spots - I just want ideas for my story. I'm definitely not touching him.

"I like when girls run their fingers through my chest hair. I also like when they tickle my thighs, getting closer and closer to my dick without actually touching."

"You have chest hair?" I grab the hem of his shirt and tug it up. He starts in surprise and swats at my hand, but I keep my grip and pull his shirt all the way up. "You do have chest hair! What does it feel like?" Of course, I have to find out. This is a learning experience. I drag my fingers through his chest hair and notice that his chest swells, as if he's enjoying this. "Oh, it's long and curly. I wonder if I can - " I twirl my fingers in it and tug gently. He groans and tilts his head back. I switch hands and rest one hand on his inner thigh to keep my balance as I keep gripping and stroking his chest.

This learning experience is paying off. Today, I've learned that I like guys with chest hair.

"Baby girl, you've got to stop." He sits up and shoves me back on my butt. "Don't get me wrong, Jennie, I'm loving the attention - but this is the most action I've gotten in a while. I don't want things to get awkward if you accidentally touch my erection. This is just teaching you how to write your story. We're done touching, for now, you understand?"

I pout but nod. He's right. We - well, specifically me - are getting too handsy, and things can get out of hand fast. We have to slow it the hell down. I nod at the forgotten story in his hand. "All right. No more touching. What else do I need to fix?"

Dad flips to the next page of the story. "All right. The blowjob section. You've got the right idea - dick goes in mouth. You're right about guys loving deepthroat, but you move so fast. Very few girls can go straight in to deepthroat, especially with a dick as big as you've described. You're just asking for her esophagus to get punctured. That's a trip to the emergency room right there, not to mention a massive mood killer. You have to start nice and slow. Don't even put your mouth on it right away. Guys like it when you give them a handjob, maybe a bit of teasing, before you actually start sucking."

"Okay." I nod, then frown. "I...don't understand exactly what you mean."

"Shit." He rubs the whiskers on his chin. "Go see if your mom has any cucumbers in the kitchen for you to practice on."

Damn it. I want to practice on the real thing. I hop up and walk to the kitchen, making sure my ass bounces and jiggles with every step. I don't dare look back at him, but I'm hoping that his eyes are locked on my butt. I turn into the kitchen and pull open the fridge. Sure enough, there are five or six long, thick cucumbers in the crisper. I open it to grab one, but then a thought hits me. He's not going to get up to check. I shut it and look at the stove, so that I'm not lying when I say, "I don't see any!"

"Shit. Come back in here." I bite back a smirk of triumph as I bounce my way back to the couch. "We're taking this way too far, but I promised I'd help you. Get on your knees on the couch." I do so. "Bend over so your face and hands are in my lap. Now... okay." He glances up at the ceiling, as if offering a prayer for forgiveness. "As you can see, I...I have a pretty big bulge. Run your hands over it. Play with it."

Oh, I'm getting so close to the prize. I run my fingers up and down the full length of his impressive bulge. He groans and rolls his head back. I discover the head, a spongy bulb poking the top of his shorts, and I start to twirl my palm over it. It bends and squishes a little; I'm quite surprised at how firm it is. I gently rub his balls through his pants, then wrap my fingers around the thickness and begin to stroke. He groans again and presses his hand on the small of my back. The skin to skin contact lights a fire in my pants. I want nothing more than to shove his hand into my panties and let him show me how a man gets a girl off. But that would be moving too fast, and I might scare him off.

"T-Take it out," he whispers, his voice hoarse with lust. "Take it out of my shorts, baby girl."

I tug the elastic forward so his cock springs out. I knew that it was big when I was stroking it through his shorts, but I never imagined it would be THIS big. I've seen pictures of dicks before, but this is like nothing I've ever seen before. It's so thick and veiny. I grip it tightly at the base and stroke upward. Inspiration strikes me, and I use my thumbnail to flick the ridge under his head. Some liquid forms a bead on his head and starts trickling down. I jerk my hand away; is that pee?

"It's normal," Dad assures me, guiding my hand back to his penis. "Taste it. Scoop it up on your little finger and taste it."

I obey; how bad can it be? I lick my finger tentatively and bite back another moan. It's so warm and salty, and it actually tastes pretty good. "What is it?"

"Pre-cum. When a guy gets turned on, his dick starts leaking it. It's lube, just like the fluids that a girl's...um, vagina makes when she gets turned on. Did you like the taste?"

"It's pretty good." I don't want to admit that I want to lick his head clean. It tastes so good! "Am I doing this right?"

"Fuck - yes. Yes you are." He's struggling to maintain his composure, and I love that. "Now try licking it. Lick it, kiss it, whatever you want to do. Watch out for teeth, though. Nibbling is fine, but a man's penis is very sensitive, so use your teeth sparingly."

Ah, finally. The part I've been waiting for. I lick the tip of his head as another bead of precum leaks out, and this time, I can't hold back my moan. He groans at the sound of my enjoyment and slips his hand down to my ass, squeezing it gently. My pussy screams with lust. His thumb is right there! Just another inch! Maybe if I can distract him a little more, he'll start touching me the way I need. I kiss up and down the length of his shaft before wrapping my lips around the head. He's dripping so much precum at this point that I don't need a lot of spit to smoothly slide up and down his cock. With every stroke down, I take in more and more, until I've gone as deep as I can without pain - only halfway.

His other hand rests on the back of my hand, tangling itself in my short black hair, and begins to guide me up and down in the speed that he wants. It's not a bad speed; I can handle this. I bob up and down, holding myself back so I don't slam his cock into the back of my throat. I want to enjoy this, and pain is not a turn on for me. An idea strikes me; I hum every time his head slips into my throat. He groans and squeezes my ass again, his thumb finally slipping to the heart of my crotch and pressing gently. I moan as his cock taps the back of my throat. His grip on my hair tightens for a moment, then tugs me up.

"Stop, baby girl. Stop. I'm getting close, and I - " Dad stares at my face - my streaked mascara, my flushed cheeks, my swollen lips. "Oh, god, baby girl, you're so goddamn sexy. I - I want to fuck you, but you're my daughter. I can't. We have to stop."

I lean forward so my lips are almost grazing his. "At least I'm keeping it in the family...losing my virginity to someone I know and trust -- and love. Wouldn't you rather I stay here and do it with you, rather than going out and having sex with a total stranger? Besides," I add with a breathy moan, "something that feels so right can't be wrong, can it? If it feels so good, how wrong can it possibly be?"

"Fuck," he gasps, grabbing my hips and dragging me onto his lap. I straddle him, positioning myself so that my groin is rubbing the full length of his cock. He slams his lips against mine, going straight for the french kiss. His hands rip my crop top up and roughly fondle my tits. I moan and gasp into his lips, biting his lower lip until I can taste blood. He begins to pinch and roll my nipples between between his large, rough fingers, and the friction sends sizzles of electricity down my spine.