Things Happen

Why do I feel like I'm at a SAA meeting? Hi, my name is Lisa, and I'm a sex addict.

I'm twenty. Most guys think I'm good looking. I have long hair and a good body. I consider myself an expert flirter, closet exhibitionist and sex addict. I don't mean I'm a closet sex addict. I admit it.

I married a guy right out of high school that I thought was the only man in the world. Unfortunately, he didn't think of me in the same terms. We divorced a year later. Best move I ever made.

I was accepted at the same college as my father, so here I am. All alone.

When I graduate I'll probably teach in the same little school district my father has been in for twenty years. He's forty-three now. Not old. Not young.

He's the reason you're reading this. But it's not his fault. It's nobody's fault, really. Things happen.

My ‘thing' started out innocently enough when my father invited me to accompany him to a conference of band directors—that's right, he's a high school band director—in Orlando. It was during my summer break from school and he thought I needed to get away. Couldn't argue with that.

The flight down was uneventful and, to my surprise, the two of us were getting along rather well. It's not that we always fight, but we are definitely two different people with different philosophies on life. He's the mature male. I'm the twenty-year-old female. That should explain everything.

We stayed at a resort on Disney property. It was easily the fanciest place I'd ever stayed at and I enjoyed the amenities. We shared a room that had a balcony where I could sit in my tiniest bikini and tan. Of course, the only people I could attempt to flirt with were young couples with little kids. Neither of those groups ever proved very fruitful when it came to my addiction.

So I found myself oftentimes flirting with my father. I'd keep that bikini on the entire time we were in the room, except when I took a shower. Then I'd make a point of wearing either a towel or just my underwear as much as possible.

I would have felt guilty if I hadn't noticed his constant attention to me and, to my surprise, his obvious excitement. Shorts are not the best thing to hide an erection in, even a slight one. I was thrilled and confused at the same time. How was I supposed to feel about giving my own father an erection?

By the end of the second day, I was officially desperate. It had been over a week since I'd had sex. Even some of the young mothers I kept seeing looked good. So that night, as I lay in bed in just my panties, with my father in the other bed, desperation took over.

It was completely dark. So dark I stepped on one of my father's shoes as I pulled back the cover and climbed into his bed. Despite the near fall, I managed to get under the cover without waking him. I considered staying where I was, more than an arm's length away from him, but found myself rolling closer and closer to him.

His back was to me. That gave me some nerve to keep going. Eventually, I was close enough that my breasts were about to touch his back. I made every effort to keep my legs from touching his.

I took a couple deep breaths. Then I placed my arm on top of his side. The initial contact sent shivers down my spine. I expected him to jump, but got no response. So I lie there for several minutes listening to him breathe, feeling his chest rise and fall under my arm.

When he finally moved I froze in place. Luckily, he didn't roll over. I was able to keep my arm in place. In fact, I reached it a little farther over so that it completely draped over him.

That's when it seems he realized what was happening.

"Are you OK?" he asked sleepily.

"Yeah. Go back to sleep," I said softly.

He half turned his head to face me, but not completely. I hugged him a little harder. This time my breasts pressed against his back and I scooted my hips forward until I felt his ass on my thighs.

At that point he couldn't have felt anything but my bare skin touching him. He put his hand around mine.

"Are you sure?"

"Yes," I said. "I'm fine, Dad."

He let go of my hand. I stayed in that position, motionless, for a few moments. Then I gradually let my arm slide down his body until my hand was at the top of his boxers. I would know in the next few seconds how far this was going to go.

My movements were slow and deliberate. I let my fingers touch his boxers up around the waistband. Then lower. I felt the opening in the front. Then lower still.

His body shuddered when my hand first made contact with the tip of his cock. There was still the material of his boxers between us, but it was unmistakable what I touched. I guessed he expected me to pull away. I didn't.

My finger followed the path of his limp shaft. I put my palm on him.

"Lisa. No," he said.

"Shhh." I pressed down harder. Rubbed him slightly.

"I don't…," he started to say.

I was ready for him. "Dad. Don't worry."

My hand was moving up and down very methodically. There was just enough pressure now to keep in constant contact with him. I purposely moved my breasts so he could feel them against his back.

Finally. I sensed the first indication that he was responding. I felt the tiniest twinge from his cock and it grew, maybe, half an inch. Another thirty seconds and it was undeniably thicker, although not nearly erect.

"Lisa. Really…"

"Shhh."

I applied more pressure.

If it was possible, I didn't want what I was doing to seem sexual. I wanted it to be natural and non-threatening. Which made me think once again about why I was doing what I was doing. Did I need somebody, anybody, that bad that I would resort to coming on to my father? Was I just seeking his approval?

No. I decided it was because I was an adult now, capable of making my own life choices, and one of those choices was whom I wanted to have sex with. The addict in me also gained tremendous satisfaction out of giving other people pleasure. I'd get mine later.

So I rubbed my father's cock under his boxers, in the dark, in a motel room, from behind his back. My nipples were starting to grow from the contact with his skin. More importantly, his cock was starting to grow from the contact with my hand.

It was nearly to the point where I could wrap my fingers around it and stroke him. I had to make a decision about how to do this and not force him to end it. Reaching inside his boxers and abruptly clutching him was ruled out. I kept rubbing, slowly but surely allowing my hand to enter the opening in the front of his boxers. I let a finger touch him. Then two.

Soon, my hand was rubbing him directly. The moment I closed my fingers around him I felt him grow to what I thought had to be full erection. He was big. My heart pounded in the quiet night.

I slid my hand up and down his warm cock. I would have loved to push his boxers down for more freedom, but I assumed that would put an end to the whole thing. It seemed plausible that I might actually be able to get him off if I just kept going.

So I did. Methodically. Carefully. Stroking his cock like it was breakable, wondering whether he liked it like this or rough and hard.

He didn't make a sound for the longest time. Then an audible, quick breath. I increased the pressure on his cock. He made another sound deep inside his chest. I pushed my lower body against his as if fucking him from behind. He pushed back.

I was pumping him faster now, nearly certain this was going to end in an orgasm. My breathing against his shoulder became harder. His body was starting to rock back and forth almost imperceptibly. I wanted him to have sex with my hand.

I don't know what I expected it to be like when he came. I hadn't used just my hand since…what? Junior high? But this was a grown man with a large cock. I mean, I knew what happened when a man came, but what would THIS man be like.

"Lisa." Dad's voice brought me back to reality. He didn't say anything else at first. I didn't answer. But his body told me something was changing.

"God. Lisa." Then he moaned and thrust his hips forward. I stroked him as hard and fast as I could.

He cried out with sounds you only hear during sex. Then a grunt that I'd heard from every single guy I'd ever fucked, as if it wasn't possible to cum without making that sound. I wanted to urge him on, tell him it was alright. But I thought silence on my part was best.

Within the confined space of his boxers, I knew when each and every blast of cum left his cock. It covered the inside of the material, it covered my knuckles, the back of my hand and every finger. He came several times, each with its own distinct grunt.

I was amazed with the volume and explosive nature of his orgasm. I dared not consider touching my clit or I would have been right there with him.

"OK. OK, Lisa," he panted. His cock was only slightly less erect when I withdrew my hand. I thought about wiping it clean on the outside of his boxers but decided against that.

Instead, I backed away from him. He never completely rolled over. Never attempted to touch me. Didn't say a word.

I quietly rolled out of his bed and crawled into mine. I used the sheet to dry my hand. I stared at the dark ceiling, unable to fall sleep for almost an hour.

I was the first to get up the next morning for a shower. The prospect of facing my father didn't thrill me because I expected him to be mad, or something. Which was unfortunate because I found the entire thing very stimulating. And I wasn't the one who had the orgasm.

I loosely wrapped a towel around me and walked back into the room. Dad was awake and getting out of bed.

"Hi," I said.

"Thank you for last night, Lisa." He paused. "But I think that should be the last time."

He didn't sound overly convincing to me.

"You didn't like it?" I began to search for something to wear.

"That's not the point," he said. "It's not right."

"So you liked it." I put a pair of panties, a t-shirt and shorts on the bed.

"Lisa. Don't play games."

I turned my back to him and removed the towel. I made sure he had plenty of time to view my naked ass, then grabbed the panties and slowly pulled them on.

"I didn't mean to upset you," I said. "It just kind of happened."

I pulled on the t-shirt and turned to face him.

"No more. Alright?"

He walked into the bathroom looking a little exasperated, I thought.

After breakfast he had to attend some conference sessions. I was free to sit around the pool and lay on the balcony, knowing what my next move with Dad would be but not having a good plan to pull it off. Getting hornier and hornier by the hour definitely helped my confidence.

I counted at least three instances where, if I'd been on the trip alone, I probably could have had one of the young fathers vacationing with their families. In each case Mommy was somewhere in Disney with the kids. Daddy was alone, spying the babe in her bikini. The babe lied on her stomach, untying the top of her bikini and tossing it aside, occasionally reaching up for a sip of her fruity cocktail.

By the time my father arrived back in the room in the middle of the afternoon I was frantically in need of sex. I was in my bikini, of course, considering now my official uniform for the trip.

"How's the conference?" I asked, sipping my drink.

"Not bad. There were a couple more sessions this afternoon, but I'd had enough."

A large drop of water fell from the bottom of my glass onto the top of one of my breasts. I wiped it with my hand, making sure to dab at more of my breast than was necessary, including a bit under the bikini top.

My father quickly turned away when I looked up.

"Well, now you can relax," I told him.

He was already in shorts, so he chose something to drink from the mini-refrigerator and took it to the balcony. I was right behind.

I propped my legs up on the table he was using to hold his drink. I leaned back in my chair and watched his eyes scan the length of my tanned body. It only took a second, but he did it. I wondered if his cock reacted to my body. Just how much of me did he have to see before starting to get hard?

We spent an hour drinking, chatting and watching people below our balcony.

"That's enough sun for now. I'm going in," my father announced. He pushed the sliding glass door closed behind him and I watched him turn on the TV and lie on the bed. Perfect. But I didn't want him falling asleep. Yet.

Five minutes later I was in the room with him. I pulled the string that closed the blinds over the sliding glass door. He was looking at me with an expressionless face. Or was there a touch of dread in his eyes?

I untied the top of my bikini and pulled it off. The excitement that flowed through me as I exposed my breasts to my father was indescribable. My tits are natural, firm and proportional to my body, if not a little bit small. But not one of the many men, and a couple boys, who ever touched them had complained.

I ran my hands over them one time, lifting them and allowing them to fall back into place. Then I pushed down the bottom on my suit and let it fall to my ankles. It happened quickly. In less than fifteen seconds I was naked.

Finally, my Dad's eyes went back to the TV. Did he presume I was getting ready for a shower? Changing clothes? Was he getting hard?

The latter question was foremost on my mind. I walked over to his bed. Only when I sat on the edge of it did his eyes return to me.

"I wish I could have seen you cum last night." My hand rested on his leg, just below the bottom of his shorts.

"Lisa." He was pleading me to stop.

My hand rose up his bare leg, under his shorts. "Did you feel my breasts against your back? It felt so good on my nipples."

His eyes shot to my breasts, then away again. I touched his balls, enclosed tightly in his briefs.

"Don't do it," he warned.

I moved up until finding his cock. It WAS getting hard. I felt a strange sense of pride in that. "Do what?"

"Whatever you have planned," he said.

I massaged his cock through the soft material of his underwear. Unlike the night before, he responded quickly this time. I chose not to answer him verbally, which would have given him another opportunity to deny me what I was after.

Instead, I used my other hand to unbutton his shorts. I was glad there was no belt to worry about. Then I yanked on his zipper. At that point the hand inside his shorts was getting in the way, so I removed it.

"No. You're not going to…"

By then both hands were pulling his shorts down, followed by his underwear. They bunched up around his knees. My father's cock pointed up towards his stomach, already close to full erection. It twitched uncontrollably at the touch of my hand.

I smiled at the thought of what it would do when my mouth engulfed it. But first I had to prepare my father for the inevitable. I leaned over and brushed both nipples across the rigid cock. Then back again, before pulling the cock up to my chest and rubbing it harshly against one of my tits.

Now he was hard. Really hard.

I didn't give him time to think. My mouth was next to his cock before he realized it. My tongue slid up the length of his shaft from bottom to top. I licked all around his red tip. Again. And again.

Then he was between my lips. Just the tip at first, followed by the top third. Then half. Then my lips were pressed against his hairy skin and I felt his cock hit the back of my throat.

My hair fell down onto his stomach and thighs. I pulled just enough of it aside so it didn't interfere. And then I began to suck my father's cock.

What an incredible feeling it was to give him this pleasure. Well, I assumed it was pleasure. He seemed to enjoy the previous night and I hoped this was better. I figured I'd find out soon enough.

I worked him with both my mouth and a hand. It was difficult to sense how his body was reacting, but soon his hips began to rise and fall so I took that as a good sign. I wanted him to fuck my mouth this time and fill me with his cum. I wanted to taste him.

The next couple minutes were pure ecstasy. His actions were proving to me he wasn't going to stop and the hardness of his cock seemed to indicate I was doing something right. The anticipation of him cumming in my mouth was almost too much to take.

He sounded like he was close, very close. His legs stiffened over and over again as if he could erupt at any second. I just kept pumping and sucking.

When his hands held my head in place, I knew it was time. He groaned, lifted his ass off the bed, and announced he was going to cum. I closed my eyes and tightened my lips around his throbbing cock.

The first spurt of warm cum hit the back of my mouth. He grunted. A second blast hit my tongue. Then several smaller sprays collected in my mouth, and soon cum was dripping out the sides onto my chin. I moaned along with him, feeling him continue to orgasm even though the stream of cum seemed to stop.

We were both dripping in white cum by the time he started to deflate. I can swallow with the best of them, but my father was proving to be too much for me. I wiped my face on his stomach, allowing my breasts to scrape across his body. I wanted his stickiness all over me.

I looked up at him and smiled.

"Damn you," he said.

I got up and leisurely walked to the bathroom, shaking my ass at him one last time before rounding the corner. It was very tempting to spend five minutes in there making myself cum. God knows I needed to. But I had other arrangements in mind.

I did not "bother" my Dad that night. I thought it might be best to go another full day with just some teasing and flashing. I made sure to dress and undress around him, only wearing a bra when we went out to eat in public. My hope was if we went a day without doing anything, perhaps he'd be more responsive to my next move.

On the last day of the conference, I had to bring this to its logical conclusion. And it had to be his idea. Or at least he had to THINK it was his idea.

He had not thanked me, apologized, or in any other way acknowledged our second encounter. This was good. It gave me no reason to hold back.

I knew he would be back from the conference at noon. I, of course, would meet him in my bikini…with room service lunch waiting. The only problem with that was the kid who delivered the lunch was really cute and I wanted to jump him I was so desperate. I considered offering him a sampling of my tits as a tip, but chose not to.

When Dad arrived, everything was in place.

He was glad the conference was coming to an end and was looking forward to getting back home. As he pulled up a chair to the table on which I had placed the lunch, he told me he was seriously considering skipping the afternoon sessions. That was joy to my ears.

Lunch consisted of a couple sandwiches and, most importantly, a fruit plate with various melons and a few strawberries. The sandwiches were gone pretty fast. It was time to play.

I took a slice of melon and slid it into my mouth sensuously. I held it between my lips for a second before taking a bite. My eyes were locked on my Dad, who couldn't help but notice what I was doing. Then I licked the melon before taking another slow bite. He returned my smile without commenting.

It was time to work on the strawberries. My goal was to get one to drip onto my breast. Have you ever tried that? I mean, purposely tried to make a strawberry drip onto your breast?

The only thing I could think of was to squeeze it harder than necessary as I bit the end off. On the first try, to my total amazement, I got it to work. The juice landed well above the bikini top covering my left breast and began a gradual trip towards the nipple.

"Oops," I giggled, looking down at the tiny red stream. God, it was sexy. It was detouring more towards the cleavage, but was still effective.

It was like my father couldn't take his eyes off it. At least until I looked at him, then he just grinned and looked down at the plate. I stood up and walked the couple steps it took to get to him with the remainder of the strawberry still in my hand.