tagIncest/TabooTasting Daddy

Tasting Daddy


[All characters in this narrative are aged eighteen or over. No laws were broken in the making or telling of this story.

Moral laws... well, that's another matter entirely.

This story was related to me by my friend Haley, and is made available here unabridged.]


I think of it as my 'Pandora's Box' moment. Perhaps you've had one too, that second of sheer, unexpected discovery. A CD you thought you'd lost, or a comfy hoodie left languishing at the back of the wardrobe. Well, my discovery had a larger impact than most; come to think of it, my discovery redefined my life for a few months. It was a pivotal moment, that initial find, and it opened the doors to a period of change I never thought was possible, and moments of pleasure I'd never dreamed I would find.

Should I have put it back, once I found it? Perhaps. Would that alternate life, lacking its moment of sexy serendipity, have been better than the one I'm living now? I can't know. I guess you're all the judges now, reading my story and deciding for yourselves.

Introductions first. I'm Haley, aged twenty now, although my discovery took place a couple of years ago. I'm a student at a well-known university (and that's all you get to know) where I'm double-majoring in psychology and women's studies. I think of myself as a smart feminist; angry enough to demand change, but sensible enough to rein in my ego. Things happen as they will, not by direct force but by permitting gradual change. This will be the central plank of my thesis, if I ever stop watching porn and reading stories long enough to actually write the fucking thing.

Next, I guess you need to meet my Dad. His parents were unkind enough to call him Horace, but he goes by his middle name, David. My mom was his second wife, fifteen years his junior, but no-one was surprised that the pair hit it off; both are creative, both love the outdoors, and they have the same dry, slightly surreal sense of humor which I've happily inherited. From my mom I received the genes for a nice, slender body with perky tits; from my Dad (among many other things) I received what we'll just call The Discovery.

Mom's a geologist. She's away for about two months of every year, in places so wild they're mostly unmapped. Dad hates these periods of separation; he gets very moody and blue, drinks too much, loses the rhythm of his schedule and doesn't eat well. When I lived at home, I did my best to make up for Mom's absence, keeping the place clean and sharing the cooking with him. I listened to his work troubles and warned him when he was pouring his third (and always final -- it's a rule) drink of the evening. But there was one department in which I could never hope to stand in for my mother.

They say that absence makes the heart grow fonder. In my Dad's case, it's hard to imagine more affection between them. I've never seen anyone miss a person as much as Dad misses Mom when she's away. The days before she leaves, they always seem to sleep late, go to bed early and nuzzle each other even more than usual around the house. In our small home, everyone is right next to someone, but I really couldn't be closer; without the wall to intervene, if I fell out of bed to my right, I'd be in my parents' bed. And you can imagine the kinds of things I hear through the walls.

I don't think parents should be secretive about their sex lives. On the contrary, having plenty of healthy sex is a great model for teenagers; it explains that sex is not simply a desire which one needs (often desperately) to fulfill, but a lifelong journey of self-exploration and the broadening of horizons. I really don't mind that I've heard them absolutely going at it -- creak creak creak creak 'oh God!' etc -- just like I don't mind that we're relaxed about being naked in the house. If you're upstairs, clothing is optional; often Mom hangs out in just her panties, as do I, and no-one finds it a problem.

But then she's gone. Dad is in a pit of misery for a few days, sometimes a week. He takes unexpected days off work and goes for long drives on his own. He picks at his food. It's like watching a lovesick teenager pining for his new girlfriend. He'd say no, I'm completely sure, but I do sometimes feel like offering him sex, just to cheer him up. A loving pair of arms around him and a warm pussy to sate his needs... I love the idea, but I'd never suggest it. We don't need that kind of revolution in our house.

Instead, he masturbates. And I'm not just talking about a quick wank before going to sleep. He jerks off maybe three times every single day, normally before work, when he gets home and takes a shower, and then later in the evening. I've never found any porn around (well, not that wasn't mine anyway ;)) so I guess he arouses himself entirely from what he fantasizes about. I can't imagine he imagines anyone other than Mom, although every man has his secrets.

And how the hell do I know all of this, I hear you ask? How am I privy to my father's most personal rituals?

It all stemmed from The Discovery.

In hindsight, I can't believe it took so long; it had been there for years, waiting for me to accept its invitation, but I never saw it. Here's how it happened.

Dad has a Masons meeting every Thursday night. He's been going for years and enjoys the companionship, although he's never really discussed it with me. The ban on women tends to offend my brand of feminism. Anyway, on this particular Thursday two years ago, he came home at the usual time from his slightly mysterious executive job (aren't all Dad jobs slightly mysterious?) and took a very quick shower before heading to the bedroom for about twenty minutes. He emerged looking great, in his spiffy Masonic outfit; I can't tell you too much, but they do brush up nicely, those Masons. He gave me a kiss on the cheek, which I always love, and headed out to the garage for the forty-minute drive.

I'll be honest, I always use this private time to pleasure myself; I've been doing it for years, whenever Mom's away and Dad's out, and I have nice little rituals I like to perform. I always lose some clothes if I'm wearing any, preferring either to masturbate naked or while wearing only a baggy t-shirt. I generally do it on my bed, but I've cum in every room of the house a number of times. On the odd occasion, when I've felt like treating myself to something a little different, I slip into my parents' bed and touch myself. There's something about being in their sex nest, where they create so much pleasure, that adds an intensity to my own orgasms.

I hadn't 'done the naughty' in their room since Mom had been away, so I stripped down to my panties and a t-shirt and wandered on in. I love their room; there's wood paneling and big, beautiful dressers, lovely marble-topped bedside tables and really stylish lamps which shed a low, sexy glow. It's the perfect place for fun.

I have a confession at this stage. It's not my last, but I need to tell you: for a long time, I've found my father sexually attractive. He has a great body, certainly for a man of his age, and our relaxed policy on clothing (at least upstairs in the house) has left me in no doubt that he is beautifully well endowed.

One time, after showering, I noticed as I passed by that his balls were hanging low and free, his scrotum a little flushed as if it had been cleaned with a washcloth. I remember a tingling sensation inside my panties, a little electric current which seemed to circle my vaginal entrance. I took in the sight for as long as I could, those big red testicles and his flaccid, though still perfectly delicious-looking penis. I let my mind wander back to that image often over the next few months, imagining those balls... picturing them with my tongue lapping warmly over them... picturing them slapping against my ass as Dad fucked me; imagining them pressing against my ass while his prick explored my cunt; cumming hard as I fantasized about that first time I would feel their hot, urgent flow of cum into my body. I can't tell you how much I wanted -- needed -- that cum. Some days, it was all I thought about, until I could finger myself to a climax.

Smoothing down the top-sheet, I decided just to lay on top of their covers, rather than slide inside. I guess I was concerned that Dad would be able to detect my scent -- especially given what I intended to do, right there in his bed, a few hours before he was due to sleep in it -- so I lay back on the sheets and let my mind wander. Glancing around the room, I noticed the same familiar little features: the pentagonal, Arabian mirror my Mom has on her dressing table; the vintage TV, a real anachronism, on the other dresser-top; Mom's collection of little porcelain figures, displayed on their own shelf under tasteful spot-lighting.

And the nearly-full wastebasket under Mom's dressing table.

Why did I notice it?

It had moved. Simple as that. It normally sat in the corner, and now it was three feet closer, almost hidden by the high-backed chair Mom sits in to get ready for an evening out. I could see that it needed emptying. Such things -- anyone with OCD will get this -- are just a monumental distraction. There's no way I could continue with my evening's deliciously juicy plan without emptying it out; I would know no peace. So I went over and brought it out from under the table.

I glanced down to see a voluminous mound of tissues. Either this hadn't been emptied in ages, or Dad had a cold that I'd not noticed, or... With a sudden weakness in my knees, a sudden dryness in my mouth, a sudden and unbelievable shudder of excitement through my thighs, I knew what I had found. I actually stopped and said to the silent room, "my God. Oh, my God." I could barely get the words out. At first, I thought of just sliding the basket back under the table and forgetting about it. I even began planning a luxuriant bath with a couple of my favorite toys. But then, I stopped and looked down again.

Dad had cum into each of these tissues. He had stroked himself to that exquisite peak of excitement and then joyfully unloaded into them. I did a quick calculation; the tissues from the bottom would be perhaps two or three weeks old, but the ones on top... I reached in.

"My God... it's still... warm..." I held the flimsy tissue in both hands, feeling the surprising weight of its contents. He had taken two twin-ply tissues and -- I imagined the scene, my body overwhelmed by unfamiliar but delicious sensations -- wrapped them around his cock before his latest, obviously very large orgasm. I was touching where his cock had spurted the salty juice -- the same juice which had created me, eighteen years ago -- and if I opened the tissue I would be able to see it.

I paused. I took my first proper, deep breath in a number of minutes -- since The Discovery. Questions ran through my mind at an alarming rate, all the more so for my lack of any sensible answer. Could I really add this to the story of my life? Could I invade this wonderful man's privacy like this? Once opened, could this box ever be closed once more? What... the fuck... was I doing?

It was no use. My hands operated of their own accord, driven perhaps by urgent instructions from my vagina, so often a more powerful persuasive force than the pitiful objections of my brain. I pulled the edge of the tissue away from the center and was rewarded with a sight I will never forget; even the memory of it is enough to make my pussy instantly creamy. There it was, in my hand: my father's semen, still warm, and so much that he must have been looking forward to it all day. I pictured him at the office, risking the occasional grab of his cock under his desk, maybe playing a little in the car on the way home, and then bidding me a cheery hello and kissing my cheek before coming in here and doing .. this.

I opened the tissue fully. Thick, white globes of spunk lay heavily in its center. There was so much, in a warm, viscous pile, that I feared it would break the thin tissue paper and begin leaking all over my hands. I almost put it back. Instead, I stood and went back to the bed, still holding the beautifully precious representation of love my father had inadvertently left for me. Laying back, I set the tissue on my tummy, amazed again at how warm it felt, as though these beads of sperm had begun their journey from my father's balls only a moment earlier.

I was almost dying from excitement. I couldn't have spoken if I tried, my every skin cell seemed to tingle as if gently electrocuted, and I hardly need tell you what was going on between my legs. Or perhaps, given that you've come this far, dear reader, you'd like to know. I'm guessing you would.

I quickly lay a bath towel down on the bed and slipped off my panties. I found them utterly soaked; I may as well have dipped them in a basin full of my pussy juice. Later, I had to wring them out in the bathroom. My cunt had been dribbling since the first moment I came into the room, excited by the upcoming finger-fest, but the continual torrent of excited girlcum which greeted The Discovery was the wettest I have ever been, and the sexiest, most swollen, most turned-on, most ready for sex my cunt had ever felt. I slid a hand between my legs and spread the considerable moisture around, lubricating my inner and outer labia, and the area around my clit. This was a wetness, an arousal, of a kind I had never known. There was only one thing I could possibly have done.

I took the tissue and very gently began to let it drift back and forth over my tummy, its edge just brushing the little mounded hood which still hid my clitoris. Waves of anticipation and pleasure filled my body. I felt more wetness arrive, adding to the gathering pool of girlcum at my entrance. I spread the tissue out fully and lay it on my tummy, a little unsure of what to do. But my fingers knew. They gently took a long swipe through the huge smear of warm cum, my entire body tingling as they traveled. As they reached the other side, covered now in this sweet, precious liquid of love, it seemed so natural to bring them slowly to my face.

My third finger was adorned by a large droplet of semen, which was running down to my index finger, coating it likewise. I breathed in the scent... and actually came. I had an orgasm, a peak of pleasure inside me, just from inhaling the smell of his cum from my fingers. It was only a little one. The big one came when I dabbed my sticky finger to my lips and kissed my father's sperm for the first time. A wave of intense, orgasmic contractions washed heavily through my body. I shuddered, shocked at the violence of my muscular spasms, and waited for them to subside a little.

A minute's deep breathing later, I was ready for more. I parted my fingers, watching fascinated as the sperm formed strands and strings from third to index finger. It had to happen. I parted them again and ran my tongue up between them, licking up the delicious cum and allowing my body to begin another huge, huge climax. As it peaked and I let the taste of the sperm overwhelm me, I gasped hard and called something out, I'm not sure what. These spasms, too, subsided over time. Unable to stop myself -- why would I? - I swiped more sperm from the tissue, spread my legs and played with the droplets for a few seconds. The viscous, sticky warmth coating them was absolute heaven. Then it happened. In perhaps the best moment of my life, I plunged my two sticky, spermy fingers deep into my cunt.

A pleasure explosion ripped through me as my father's warm, fresh cum mingled with his daughter's cunt juice in a loving moment of sheer joy. I pushed my fingers all the way inside and then simply lost control, fucking myself hard and fast and deep, in and out... All I could imagine was the lovely hot sperm in my cunt, and all I could do was orgasm, over and over, peak upon peak, building and cresting and subsiding, muscles tightening and relaxing, pussy walls closing and opening, until the pain in my hand and the sheer fatigue willed me to stop.

I lay for long minutes, breathing hard, sweating and simply coated, from cunt to thighs to belly, in my own delicious lubricant. I felt the breaking of a barrier... and of a taboo, to be sure... but the achievement of something wonderful. To this day, I have never had stronger orgasms. That first time... that first, unbelievably arousing contact with my wonderful Dad's sperm, changed my life.

I took a while to get myself together, moving a little faster as I glanced at the clock and noticed I'd been cumming without pause for at least twenty minutes before exhaustion had overtaken me. I showered, taking loving care of my sensitive mound, and watched some TV until Dad came back. I kissed him a little longer than usual, my lips drifting unusually close to his. That night, I slipped a probing hand into my panties and let all of the dirtiest thoughts of my life drift through my overheated, horny brain... Dad's cum.... being gently rubbed into the opening of my ass.

[email me if you enjoyed it... xxx]

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