Tricked by a Ghost

Cleo lay sleeping in her bed. She'd gone to bed early after dinner, just exhausted and ready to collapse after a long day, so it was all she could manage to just strip off her clothes, pull on a tank top and a clean pair of panties and slip between the sheets, the warm embrace of her bed immediately lulling her into a deep sleep.

Thomas, like his daughter, was also exhausted, but as soon as his head had hit the pillow he tossed and turned, simply unable to sleep.

It had been a long time since his wife had died, and though he was sure Cleo knew that he had other partners over the years, he hadn't brought any of them home, not wanting to have strangers around his daughter while she was growing up. The downside, one that he had accepted a long time ago, was that he couldn't just bring someone round to fuck if he got horny. No, unless he felt like making his way to a 'friends' house, he had to settle for his fist.

Burying his face in his pillow, Thomas groaned. Grinding his hardness tentatively into the bed, he let his mind go blank. He hadn't had sex in weeks, not since Sophia had gone out of town and he'd been too busy to take care of himself - he hadn't realised how long it had been since he'd found release. Wrapping his hand around his cock, Thomas began to pump himself, imagining Sophia below him. His friends had teased him about dating someone who was almost as young as his daughter, but he'd always found girls that age to be quite eager and his friends had admitted to being jealous of the never ending trail of twenty-two year-olds that seemed to flock to him. As soon as Sophia was back, he was going to ruin her, fuck her until she couldn't walk anymore, and Thomas thought about what he'd do to her as his pleasure steadily built, and he was so close to coming when a vibrant imagine flashed into his mind - Cleo on her knees between his thighs, his hand tangled in her hair as she worked her mouth on him.

He froze, horrified. Hey, you sick fuck, that's your daughter! It took him a moment to compose himself, but his cock still ached and he desperately searched through his mind for Sophia, or Nellie or Lola, or any one of the girls he had been with in the last few months. He pictured Lola, the time when she had been practicing yoga and let him roughly fuck her when downward facing dog had proven too much not to touch. He could almost hear her moans in his head.

Wait - could he actually hear someone moaning? Thomas continued pumping, it must be in his head because the only other person here was Cleo, but the moaning seemed to continue and Thomas could feel his orgasm getting closer and closer and it couldn't be Cleo, right? Because that would mean that he was touching himself to his baby girl's moans, that he was listening to the sound of her in so much pleasure that she couldn't stop herself from crying out despite knowing that her father would hear. The thought drew a ragged breath from him. Just as his orgasm took him he saw it again, a vision of Cleo, this time grinding her young pussy against her pillow and he himself moaned loudly at the thought, his heart pounding and the pleasure overwhelming any coherent thought in his brain. He collapsed in the bed, allowing the last of the orgasm to find his natural end when he realised what he'd done. He'd come thinking about his daughter, imagining her while he masturbated. Cleo's moans, if that's what they had been and not his own imaginings had stopped, and the guilt hit him like a train.

"Post-nut-clarity, huh?" Said an unfamiliar voice in the darkness.

Thomas sat straight up in bed, clutching the blanket to his still softening cock and switching the lamp on. The ghost stared at him, with a wicked grin on his face. Thomas inched towards the bedside table where his gun sat in the bottom drawer.

"I really wouldn't bother," said the ghost, "it would be a waste of a good bullet."

Accessing the situation, Thomas was inclined to agree. The ghost, while still having defined human features, was misty and grey and somewhat see-through.

"Who are you? And what do you want?" Thomas had to think quickly, he'd need to get Cleo out, make sure this thing didn't hurt her.

"Just a passing poltergeist. Thought this place would be as good as any to shack up at for a while," he had a strange accent. "As for what I want, I can assure you that I don't want to hurt anyone," he said, indicating that he had read Thomas' mind.

"Was it you? That put those horrible thoughts and sounds in my head?" Thomas blurted out, trying to keep his voice low.

"The images, those I put in your head," the ghost laughed, "the music was live, so to speak."

"If you touched my daughter, I'm-"

"Relax, nobody has ever touched your daughter, not even your daughter. I just stimulated the part of the brain that creates sex dreams."

Cleo had never touched herself? Sex dreams? "What do you want with us?" I asked, trying to keep my anger in control.

"I just wanted to tell you something," the ghost smiled and stood up from where it leaned against the wall. "Just have fun."

With that the ghost vanished.

Cleo's dream started off innocently. She and her father were on a long distance car trip. They talked about everything, Cleo's school, her dad's work. After a while she noticed that the car felt really good. The vibration of the engine, every small variation in the road changing the sensation seemed to produce pleasure that radiated through her cunt to get to the rest of her body. She was vaguely aware that she was unable to answer the question her father had just asked her, instead moaning and pressing her thighs together. It felt so good, like nothing she'd ever experienced before.

Thomas didn't see the ghost again for months.

He had been sitting in the living room, watching some movie when his daughter had come in, wearing a white tee and some yoga shorts and dragging a blanket. Of course, Thomas had made plenty of room for her on the couch, but she'd wanted to cuddle. Ever since the incident Thomas had barely been able to look Cleo in the eye, and now every innocent thing he and Cleo had been doing since she was a child felt uneasy for Thomas as a father.

But he'd pushed her away long enough and the last thing he wanted was for Cleo to question if he still cared about his daughter, so he allowed her to cuddle. Even when she had rested her head against his shoulder. Even when he realised that she was braless.

Eventually, around the middle of the film she complained that she was uncomfortable and asked if they could move. He agreed, but he hadn't realised she had intended to park herself in his lap. She threw the blanket over both of them, pulling it up to her chin, but Thomas had no idea where to put his hands, and so they ended up wrapping around her waist.

Fuck, her shorts were so thin and Thomas swore he could feel the heat radiating off her little pussy. He tried to think of anything to distract himself, the movie, the stuff he was behind on at work, organizing the family tax return and for the most part it worked. Cleo laughed and gasped along with the film and he tried to copy her so as to not alert her to how distracted he truly was, because every time she adjusted her seat he could feel her pussy slowly rub up and down the length of his cock.

Thomas ground his hands into fists, praying to God that he didn't get hard.

"What did I say?" asked the ghost's voice in his head. Thomas looked around, but couldn't see anyone other than Cleo. "Relax, father-of-the-year, only you can hear me."

Thomas tried to ignore his daughter's squirms in his lap, she must really be struggling to get comfortable.

What do you want? He asked in his mind.

"I already told you," the ghost replied. "Right now, you have a twenty-year old in your lap and you're thinking about work? You need to get your priorities straight."

She's my daughter!

"Which means that her cunt is molded perfectly for your cock."

Thomas sucked in a breath through his teeth at the statement.

"Are you okay, daddy?" Cleo asked.

"Yes, darling," he assured her, kissing the crown of her head.

"Listen," said the ghost.

Cleo's breathing had gone ragged, and though the movements were minuscule, his daughter was grinding her pussy in his lap.

What are you doing to her? Thomas yelled in his mind.

"I'm stimulating her." The ghost laughed. "Right now it is as if someone is rubbing her little clit in small circles."

"Baby, we have to change positions right now," Thomas barked.

"But daddy, I only just got comfortable!" she protested, she sounded panicked? Like she'd been caught doing something she shouldn't. "If I promise not to move, can I stay please? There isn't much left of the movie."

Thomas grumbled, but reluctantly agreed.

"I told you, just have fun," the ghost whispered.

Cleo did so well at staying still. She promised daddy that she wouldn't move and for a while it seemed easy, the feeling down there seemed to have subsided, however, she hadn't accounted for how tense she'd felt now that the feeling had stopped. It felt just like that dream she'd had all those weeks ago, and waking up from that dream had left her feeling tense too, but she'd had no idea how to deal with it. It was unbearable and she wondered if God was punishing her for a sin she hadn't realised she'd committed.

It wasn't long before the feeling returned and it was stronger now. It was like something was rubbing against her crotch, but she knew it wasn't daddy, because his hands were clamped tightly around her waist. After a moment Cleo began to wriggle in daddy's lap, just a little. She knew she'd promised to stay still but surely he wouldn't notice if she just rocked a little back and forth. Daddy's breathing was getting heavier in her ear, he must be really engrossed in the movie, because there was a big fight scene.

Suddenly, a new feeling accompanied the first, and Cleo gasped. It was like something had pushed inside her. She felt her little pussy stretch around... fingers? But daddy hadn't moved and there was no one else here. The fingers slowly pumped in and out and Cleo bit her lip, trying desperately not to move or moan.

"Are you alright, baby?" Daddy asked, but his voice was an octave lower than she was used to.

"Yes, daddy."

Fuck, fuck, fuck fuck.

Thomas knew this was wrong. He knew what he was supposed to do, what any real father would do if they discovered that their young, innocent daughter was being masturbated in their lap.

"Right now," said the ghost, "her clit is being rubbed and she's fit not one, but two fingers inside her little cunt. You have no idea how tight she is."

Stop this, right now, Thomas demanded.

"I think it's cute how protective you are of Cleo," the ghost said, "but the fact of the matter is that I didn't let her cum during her dream all those weeks ago and she was horribly disappointed. She doesn't even know what she's missing, because you didn't do your due diligence as a father to teach her what an orgasm is, but she knows that the pleasure from being stimulated isn't supposed to leave you so tense that you cry into your pillow at night."

Cleo had been crying? She'd been upset? Thomas understood, he knew first hand how desperate being unable to cum could make someone, and the image in his head of his precious Cleo grinding into her pillow returned. She was grinding now, in his lap. She was trying so hard to be still and obedient, but her shorts were soaked and he could feel her juices soaking into his sweatpants and maybe he was a bad father. Maybe, he was supposed to teach her how to feel good on her own terms. If he didn't allow this to continue, would she seek satisfaction elsewhere? A new image popped into his head, Cleo and some boy and he was doing nothing for her, all he cared about was having somewhere to sink his inexperienced cock. Would this boy teach her how to take care of her needs? Would he make Cleo cum?

"Of course not," said the ghost. He was sitting in the opposing armchair, watching. He wasn't touching himself, but Thomas wasn't sure if he could. Cleo didn't seem to have noticed him.

"She can't see me," the ghost remarked. "Not that she's even looking though, not with her eyes shut."

Thomas wanted to scream.

"Right now, each nipple is being tugged, ever-so-lightly," the ghost said with a dark smile. "It's been a long time since I've seen such a beauty so desperate for release."

Cleo was trembling, "I'm so sorry daddy, I know you said to keep still."

"It's okay, baby," Thomas stammered.

Cleo's whole body ached.

The fingers thrust in and out of her, unrelentingly, and something was rubbing her and it felt wonderful, and safe here in daddy's arms. The tugging on her nipples were simply the icing on the cake.

Daddy seemed to have given up trying to stop her from moving, and so Cleo tested the boundaries, rocking her hips back and forth, dragging her pussy along daddy's lap. Daddy's arms relaxed around her waist, allowing for a wider range of movement.

So close, she knew that she was so close to something, but she had no idea what. All she knew was that no matter how fast and firm her movements were, no matter all of the stimulation she was receiving in one go, she couldn't reach that something. She wanted to cry. It was all so frustrating and alien to her.

Something in daddy's lap grew steadily harder. It felt like a big rock and had she had half the mind to ask daddy what it was, she would have, except this hard rock was pressing exactly where she needed it to. Cleo ground on daddy's hardness, the pleasure starting to overwhelm her.

There was no doubt in Thomas' mind that he was a terrible parent. What would his wife say if she were here to see this? Their daughter humping her father's hard cock. She'd be disgusted. Horrified. Thomas knew he should feel horrified too, but he didn't. He felt amazing.

"She's lost in the feeling now," the ghost said from his chair. "Totally mindless. She wouldn't notice if you touched her, you know."

Thomas didn't give it a second thought, one hand raising to Cleo's hip, guiding her movements, forcing her to grind harder on daddy's cock, his sweatpants were ruined but he didn't care. His other hand slipped from around Cleo's waist, up under her shirt to cup her warm, soft, breast. Her tiny nipples were as hard as bullets. She moaned, loudly, her movements frenzied and desperate. Poor thing.

Thomas could feel his orgasm building too. An arrow of guilt pierced him and was quickly overwhelmed by the feeling and found he could ignore it rather easily. He was just a man after all, just a man with a hot, young thing humping his cock. It was his duty, to teach his daughter how to feel good, but was there a rule to say that he couldn't feel good too? Was it a crime that if his daughter was brought to orgasm in his lap, that he shouldn't cum too?

"Daddy?" Cleo asked and Thomas was brought suddenly to reality.

"Yes, baby?" He asked, he was grinding now too, using just enough strength to meet Cleo's movements and give her just that added bit of pleasure.

"Daddy, daddy," Cleo didn't seem to be trying to get his attention at all. Instead she just seemed to be muttering his name under her breath. "Daddy, daddy, dad-" her orgasm rippled through her, and she choked on the word convulsing against Thomas, pressing her body into his chest and Thomas bit his tongue to avoid roaring as he came too, spurted ropes of hot semen into his pants, where it mixed into the wet stain his baby girl had left behind. Cleo collapsed against him, head lolled back against him and they both breathed in unison, coming down from the last of the waves of pleasure.

"Beautiful," the ghost said, a glint of a tear in his eye. "Absolutely beautiful."

Cleo missed the rest of the movie, she fell asleep soon after her ordeal and when the credits began to roll, Thomas scooped her up and tucked her into bed.

Thomas swore it would never happen again. He'd crossed a line. This was bad.

He made himself sick thinking about it even after his body was exhausted and when he did finally get to sleep, he tossed and turned for the whole night.

Cleo never brought it up, everything continued as normal, like nothing had changed, but Thomas knew it had. No matter how hard he tried, he couldn't ignore the memory of little Cleo cumming in his lap, and everytime the memory flashed in his mind, it was like he could still feel her grinding against him, the softness of her breast in his palm.

He'd always been hesitant to talk about sex with her. Thomas had been scared that he'd put ideas in her head and if she knew about it would she start looking for release with other men? Sure, there could be a massive queue of stupid boys trying to get into her pants, and that bothered him, but what about grown men? The ones that know how to manipulate naÏve young girls into bed, how to push them passed the limits of their comfort, who broke their hearts and drove them into the arms of other older men who promised not to be like the other men she'd let fuck her. Had he made a mistake trying to preserve her innocence?

Sophia had returned from being out of town, but Thomas ignored all of her calls. He had too much on his mind.

He hadn't seen that stupid ghost except for the movie night, and he prayed he would never see him again, but the inappropriate flashes of Cleo that lingered in his head suggested that the ghost was still playing with him.

Every time Thomas managed to get just to the edge of sleep, he'd get an image of Cleo straddling him, his cock inside her as she rose and fell, breasts bouncing, her head thrown back in pleasure. He sat bolt upright. If he couldn't get to sleep, he might as well get a snack.

He pulled out the bread for a sandwich before noticing that Cleo's bedroom door was ajar. Thomas couldn't stop his body from walking over to it, and peaking inside. There she was, sleeping peacefully, in a little baby pink silk clingy nightgown that she'd begged for for her last birthday, and with the blanket thrown off of her, there was nothing to hide her form from his prying eyes. He could see the outline of her breasts straining against the material, the hard buds of her nipples visible through the thin fabric, the curves of her body sloping downwards to her small waist. She adjusts in her sleep, her thighs spreading slightly and revealing a smooth shaven pussy.

Fuck. He tried to fight it, but Thomas found himself at the end of her bed, cock hard and throbbing in his shorts. Absent-mindedly, he rubs himself through his clothes, his hand dipping in the band of his shorts to gasp his cock.

Something roused Cleo from her sleep.

The mattress shifted, and she opened her eyes groggily and found her daddy slipping in next to her.

"Daddy?" She asked, half-yawning.

"Shh, baby, it's just me," he smoothed her hair back. "I had a nightmare, I just want to cuddle."

"Okay," she replied, snuggling into his chest.

Something about having daddy so close to her, seemed to cause some current of electricity to run down her spine, but she shut her eyes and tried to go back to sleep. The electricity turned to heat in her belly, and she could feel herself getting slick between her legs. It was just like the movie night. She'd been on daddy's lap and suddenly, liquid was pooling and something felt so good, rubbing at her in the right spot, the one that Cleo had been unable to find on her own. Maybe that's what happened when daddy was nearby? Maybe his presence was enough to make her feel good.

Daddy wriggled a bit and with little effort he pulled her on top of him, "sorry baby, just trying to get comfortable."

"'Tis okay," she replied. Now that she was on top, her legs on either side of his hips, that good spot was pressed against daddy. He wasn't wearing any bottoms, stark naked, and she jolted in surprise.