Story Details

Seducing Dad

tboneguy on Incest Stories

Note: This a resubmission. When I submitted this story recently, something went wrong when it was published and the fonts and paragraphs were messed up and couldn't be fixed. The moderator has generously offered to allow me to submit it again, so here it is and I hope for better results this time (still not too sure about this text editor, though). So if you think you have read this story recently, you probably have. You're welcome to read it again, though. T


My name is Shannon and this is a story about how I seduced my father. Golly, look at that! Only one sentence and already I look like a slut who’s such a sex maniac that she can’t keep her hands off her own dad. And it’s not that way at all.

Maybe I need to tell you more about myself. In the first place, I’m not a slut. Really, I’m not. I was a virgin when I seduced my dad and I very seldom do anything sexual on a date. And when I do I make it really clear at the beginning what the limits will be and then see to it that we both have a pleasant experience and that the guy gets a proper sexual release. I’m not a prick-tease. If I get a guy "heated up" I’ll see that he comes. It’s only fair.

Gosh, I’m getting side-tracked here. I’m a high school senior, good student (might graduate with honors), fairly popular, about 5’3", 115 or so, pretty nice tits (33C), maybe a little more butt than I really need (but somehow the guys seem to like that), and a very small waist that makes both of the other measurements seem bigger. I’m not sure I’m pretty, but I believe I’m attractive, and many others seem to agree. Well anyway, I really am a good girl who has principles.

It sorta surprised me when I decided to seduce my dad. Well, you see, here you have to get a little more info about him and me. I am an only child, and my mother died when I was 4 (terminal illness). It was pretty tough on my dad to learn to run a house and take care of a 4-year-old girl, and it was pretty hard for me, too. But he dived into the Mr. Mom scene willingly and gradually I learned how I could make things go more smoothly. Somehow dad never got around to remarrying, probably because he is rather shy and had a tough time meeting ladies. So really, it’s always been just him and me.

Even as a little kid I just loved to go naked. Guess it’s that feeling of uninhibited freedom, with the breeze brushing your skin all over. And of course, there’s nothing sexual about a naked 4-year-old (at least, I don’t think so), so sometimes after my bath or in the morning before I dressed my dad would let me play for a while without clothes, and I did it every time I could. Let me be clear here: my dad is not a pervert, and as far as I know he didn’t get any special kick out of seeing my naked little cunny or anything else. Never any "improper touching", either; when he gave me my bath he simply washed me and dried me off as he should have, and stopped doing that when I was old enough to do it myself. What happened later was all my idea.

That doesn’t mean that I didn’t do any touching, though. As far back as I can remember I liked to play with my "trickle", pull the lips apart and look at it, and especially tickle and rub that sensitive little spot on top. I didn’t know what to call it then, but it really felt great, and of course it was much easier when I was naked (maybe that explains why I didn’t much like clothes). I never put a finger inside til some years later, but I would still play with the little hole and sometimes even put my finger over my pee-hole as I peed and watch it splash around. Guess I was sorta naughty.

I also liked to play with my titties, even though I didn’t really have any. It still felt good to stroke and rub that part of my chest, and of course the nipples were always sensitive. I loved to tickle them with my fingers or the tips of my hair or blow on them and feel them get hard like little pebbles. Then they were really sensitive and it felt awfully good. Yeah, I’m pretty sure I was naughty, but I don’t think Dad ever caught me. At least, I never noticed and he never mentioned it.

As I got older (8 or 9, I think), Dad began to discourage my running around naked. He said it wasn’t a proper thing for a young lady to do, and (surprisingly enough) I pretty much accepted it at the time. Looking back, I suspect that he was beginning to see me as a young woman and just didn’t want to get any "evil" thoughts about me. So I mostly stopped doing that when he was home, though I still loved to do it when he was gone. And I never was all that careful going to my room after a bath. If I remembered the towel, OK; if not, so what?

I hit puberty about the same time as my friends (around 10½ or 11), and of course had all of the strange and frightening new feelings and thoughts that any girl does at that time. I got through it OK, though, and by the time I reached my teens I was a fairly happy and secure girl. I don’t remember that my dad and I ever actually had "the talk", but we could discuss the personal things when we needed to, so I guess it happened in its own way. I did develop some sense of modesty then, though, probably because my new body was so strange to me, and started to be more careful to be dressed when Dad was around.

At some point after puberty I learned to masturbate. The older sister of one of my girl friends had told her how good it felt to put her fingers inside, or even use a candle or the handle of a hairbrush, and she told the rest of us. Amy swore that she had never really tried it, and we were all a bit embarrassed, but I was sorta excited, too, and couldn’t wait to get home and try. It hurt a bit the first time, even with just one small finger, but I learned to get my finger good and wet with spit and work it in slowly. The farther it went, the better it felt, and I was hooked. It wasn’t long at all til I did it frequently, moving the finger (and later more than one finger) in and out and touching my clitoris (yeah, they told us what to call it in sex-ed class) at the same time. And yes, I soon tried candles and hairbrush handles and similar items, and they felt good, too, but my trusty fingers were always my favorite and always available.

OK, so I’m taking a long time to get to the part about my dad, but you need to know me to understand. I have always enjoyed what I learned to call sexual feelings and sensations, and I think that influenced my decision to seduce my dad. Again, he and I got along well and enjoyed sharing our lives together, but that was all. It was only later that I realized that I was ready to lose my virginity and I wanted him to take it.

Not long after I turned fourteen I was at Amy’s house and we were talking about the usual romantic garbage that girls do at that age. Eventually the talk got to how it would feel to lose our virginity and whom we thought we’d want to "do it" with. We suggested all sorts of guys, some that we knew, some really silly (like rock stars or something), and jokingly I told her that her dad was pretty hot, and maybe he should be the one. She seemed really scandalized and I thought I’d offended her, but instead she challenged me: she would do it with her dad if I would do it with mine. Boy, that shocked me! I’d never even considered my dad that way. I made a big joke of it and the talk turned to other things, but the seed was planted, and in the following days I began to look at my dad and wonder. Don’t know whether she ever did it with her dad; it never came up again.

I had been having some pretty erotic thoughts for a long time, and it seemed to me that I had taken masturbation about as far as I could and I was ready for the real thing. I began to fantasize about how it would be with him and to be a little more sexy around him. After a few weeks I realized that I had already made the decision and started making real plans.

The first step, of course, was to get him to accept the idea, and that would be a real challenge. I had to bombard him with sexual stimulation, while making it all seem so innocent. Anytime he was home I was careful to wear clothes that displayed my body without being really obvious. I’d always worn t-shirts with no bra sometimes and began to do that more often, sometimes with a fairly tight shirt. My tits weren’t big, but they were really firm with large nipples and were growing nicely. He couldn’t help noticing.

Same thing with shorts and jeans: often tight enough to show off my ass and legs, but not slutty. He would be turned off by that. And occasionally (but not often) I would leave off the panties so my ass and pussy would be outlined even better for him.

And of course, he began to get more little "accidental" peeks. My favorite was to leave my bedroom door open a crack so that he could see me in the mirror. I could dress very slowly, ponder a choice of panties or bra while standing naked or just turn and admire my body in the mirror, and I knew that he stood and watched quietly. I never actually saw his hardon, but I would bet that he had one.

Showers, too, of course. Great opportunity. Again, leave the door open a little while I brushed teeth or put on makeup (always naked, of course). I did catch him rubbing his cock a few times as I did that. And I could always "accidentally" meet him in the hall on the way to my room wearing nothing but a towel. Well, you get the idea. I was giving him lots of stimulation without forcing him to acknowledge it.

The time came to force the issue, though. I chose a Saturday morning when I knew that neither Dad nor I had any special plans and got up and took a shower. When I finished, I wrapped a towel around me, but I didn’t use one of the big, big things that we ladies normally use. It was a normal size towel, and I knew that it didn’t hide much. In fact, I could see in the mirror that if I covered my tits, my pussy would peek out at the bottom. Just what I wanted.

I went downstairs, and sure enough, Dad was sitting at the kitchen table with coffee and his newspaper. I went over to the fridge and got some juice. As I did that, I let the towel slip a little so that my left nipple was showing. The cool air made it really stand out. I turned around and chatted with Dad about the weather and usual meaningless things and as we talked I could see his eyes alternating between my nipple and the bottom of the towel. I could also see a noticeable bulge in his pajama bottoms. Finally I "noticed" my exposed nipple and said "Sorry, Dad" as I pulled the towel up to cover it. Of course, that did just what I wanted: it exposed at least half of my pussy, right at my dad’s eye level. His eyes got bigger and so did his dick; the head began to peek out from the fly and I could see that he didn’t wear underwear in bed. "Why Dad, you are getting hard!" I exclaimed. "Is that because of me?"

He turned red and covered up as well as he could, then mumbled, "Shannon, I’m sorry. I don’t know what came over me." He started to get up.

"Dad, please, it’s OK. I know that you like to look at my body, and I’m glad you do. It’s perfectly normal and it makes me feel attractive. I think you are very attractive, too. You don’t need to be shy about this. You’re my only family and I love you. Couldn’t we be open about this? It’s not anyone’s business and certainly won’t hurt anyone. Please? Please, please, pleeeeease?"

He still sat there, so I walked over to him and kissed him gently. Not a sexual kiss, but a lot more lingering than a father/daughter kiss. With that, the head of his dick poked right out of the pajamas, pointed straight at his chin. As I kissed him I held him by the shoulders, and of course the towel dropped right to the floor. "See, Dad, I know you love to look at me and you are welcome to. Can I look at you, too?"

"Sweetheart, we can’t do this," he groaned, looking down. But as I urged him he finally stood up, took off the pajamas very slowly, and sat back down, still embarrassed. His dick was rock-hard, though, and his hand began straying to it occasionally as he looked at me. I knelt down in front of him and looked closely at it, letting my nipples touch his knees. I noticed a drop of clear liquid on the tip and asked him what that was. "It’s pre-cum, darling", he mumbled. "It doesn’t happen every time a man gets a hardon, only when he is really excited."

"So that means that I make you really excited, right Dad?"

"Yes, you do, sweetheart; you are gorgeous and sexy. But this is still wrong. We shouldn’t be doing this."

I ignored that. "Dad, could I touch it, please? It’s so beautiful that I just have to know what it feels like."

Again a long pause, then it seemed that he resigned himself to what was happening. He just nodded. I leaned forward even more, so I was sure that he could feel my breath on his dick. I began to touch and squeeze it gently, here and there and everywhere. God, it felt good! It was smooth and a bit soft on the outside, but very, very firm underneath. I could feel the blood pulsing through it and feel it jerk occasionally when a sexual twinge hit him. He loved it while trying to deny it.

Deciding to be just a bit bolder, I took it into my hand the way he did and began to move the hand up and down very slowly. He seemed about to stop me, but decided against it. It must have felt awfully good. Eventually I dropped all pretense and began masturbating him openly. His eyes closed, his breathing sped up, and his lower body pressed toward me. We both knew that this wasn’t going to stop until he came. And he did, just a few minutes later. It sprayed all over the place, on the floor, on my body and face, and one spurt went directly into my mouth. It surprised me a bit, but the taste was OK (a little slimy, though) so I swallowed it. When he finished, he slumped back into the chair and just looked at me, a "what have I done" look on his face. I stood up so he could see me well, cum spots and all. It was incredibly sexy.

He seemed to feel guilty and happy all at once. "That was wonderful, baby. I just can’t tell you how great that felt," he finally said. I was horny as hell, though, and began sliding a finger up and down my slit, occasionally slipping it into my pussy up to the first knuckle or taking a moment to tease my clitty. Dad watched for a little while, entranced, and began to get hard again. Finally I guess he felt that turnabout is fair play, because he asked, "Would you like me to do that for you, honey?" Well, of course I would! I took my hand away and stepped up to him again. His hand was a little hesitant as he reached to my pussy, but once he touched it I guess everything became automatic. He seemed to know even better than I did what places are the most sensitive and how to touch them.

A kitchen is an awkward place to finger a girl, though, so we moved to the living room. I lay back on the sofa and opened my legs so that my pussy was all his. He lightly touched one spot and massaged another, sliding his finger through my slit and around my pussy and avoiding my clit completely. I began to wonder if he knew what to do with it, but I shouldn’t have worried. As my breathing got faster and my pussy wetter, he finally began to flick my clit lightly, run his finger up and down it, press on it, even squeeze it a bit.

By this time I was becoming quite fragrant and he just couldn’t resist a taste. He moved his head between my legs and began to tickle my cunt with his tongue, slipping it through my slit, flicking my clit, even tongue-fucking me. Once he just plastered his whole mouth on my pussy and gobbled up the juices.

God, I was in heaven and bouncing all over the place. Finally, he slipped first one finger, then another, into my pussy and began moving them in and out, quickly, slowly, sometimes pushing far in and curling them back toward the top, while he massaged my clit with his thumb. I had no idea what he was doing, but it felt good. Eventually, though, he touched a certain spot ‘way inside, and I just about hit the ceiling. I raised straight up, arching toward him and stayed that way the longest time, screaming at the top of my lungs, in the most incredible orgasm of my life. I didn’t know anything could feel that good.

Finally I settled back and collapsed just like he had, totally spent. It took me a long time to come down and I just kept having aftershocks. "Well, I guess we found your ‘G-spot’, honey," he said. I asked him what that was. "It’s a special spot inside a woman where she is extremely sensitive, and touching it almost always triggers a massive orgasm. It’s hard to find, though, and most women and their partners never do." I was glad he did, and I tried hard to remember where it was.

Of course, after fingering me that way and smelling my girl-juices for so long, he was hard again. "Need help with that, Dad?" I asked. He nodded, and I masturbated him again, knowing much better how to do it this time. When he came, I held his dick carefully and spurted it all right into my mouth. Y’know, it’s an acquired taste and I was acquiring it. It was wonderful, and I think Dad was pleased that I did that. After a little more chat we both went upstairs and showered again. I was walking on clouds the rest of the day, and I think he was, too.

I thought that session would open the way for real sex, but it did not turn out that way. He could be convinced to offer me sexual pleasure and accept it himself, but somehow he drew the line at vaginal intercourse. For several months we pleasured each other happily, experimented quite a bit with touching and oral sex, and grew even closer together, but he could not take that final step. With no discussion we gradually adopted a "clothing optional" policy when we were alone at home, and he learned to enjoy those times when the sight of my naked body gave him a hardon. I did, too, and frequently I would take it into my mouth and treat myself to another drink of his tasty cum. He was fair, though, and just as often would lay me back and suck and finger me to another of those crashing orgasms. I could never get enough of those.

My chance came one night during an especially violent thunderstorm. The thunder and lightning were right outside the house and I really was frightened. I went to his room and knocked quietly, but went on in. "Dad, I’m scared," I whispered. "Can I sleep with you tonight? Please?"

"Sure, sweetheart, it’s OK," he said. I climbed in and lay down facing him. He had started sleeping naked after our "clothing optional" rule took effect, and I had slept that way for years. I snuggled up to him and was about to drift off to sleep when I realized that my chance had arrived. My face was close to his and I gently moved closer and kissed him lightly. He carefully didn’t respond, and after a few seconds I kissed him again, more firmly and lingering a bit. He still tried not to respond, but I felt his dick move against my leg. I waited a few seconds more and kissed him again, not hard, but very slowly with a little tongue. Now I ask you, how would any normal man respond if a naked girl presses against him and kisses him? By this time he was almost completely hard and I could hear his breathing speed up. I took a chance and gave him a thoroughly sexual kiss, crushing my mouth to his, sucking hard, forcing my tongue into his mouth. I pressed close to him, so that I could feel his hardon bumping against my pussy.

He couldn’t stop himself from responding, but finally he pulled away and gasped. "Sweetheart, we can’t do this. Please, we mustn’t." Sorry, Dad, we’ve gone too far now. I need to be fucked and you’ve gotta do the fucking. I crushed my body to his and felt his cock trying to penetrate me. I scrunched a little more and felt the head pop into me.

Omigod it felt good, even with so little penetration! I moved some more, trying to get it all the way into me, but he wouldn’t let it. "Please, honey, don’t. We mustn’t." He didn’t pull it out, though.

"Dad, I have to have you now," I gasped. "I really need it. Please don’t pull away from me. I truly need to make love with you." I moved again and made his dick slide almost all the way into me. It was heaven. It just felt so wonderful. In spite of himself he began to move against me. He couldn’t help it. "Dad, please, get on top of me and fuck me. I need you."

He was finally beyond resistance. He rolled over on top, keeping that wonderful tool in me, and began to pump. I opened my legs as far as possible and matched his strokes exactly, pushing him deeply into me on every downstroke. I was delirious. "Ogod, Dad, fuck me; fuck me hard. Ogod, it feels so wonderful. Omigod, omigod, don’t stop. It feels so good." Well, something like that. You gotta understand, I wasn’t taking notes. He leaned down and kissed me, long and hard, our tongues dueling and dancing, and it kicked my feelings up yet another notch. My body was on fire. He was still being careful, though, and when he was ready to cum he pulled out and sprayed warm white fluid all over my stomach and tits. And he came and came. I had never seen him spurt that many times.

Eventually he ran out of cum and rolled over and lay beside me, hugging me tightly and burying his head on my breast. "Shannon, sweetheart, that was so wonderful. I love you so much and I’ve wanted to do that for so long and been afraid to. I didn’t want to ruin our relationship, but I wanted it very badly. Thank you for forcing me." I still couldn’t talk. My eyes were glazed and I was still savoring the incredible feelings going through my body. To be perfectly honest, I’m not sure I had an orgasm. Maybe, but I didn’t care, because it felt so wonderful even without one. My body was at fever pitch and I wasn’t sure I’d ever come down.

Eventually, after much hugging and many kisses I did come down and we went to the bathroom, where he gently cleaned the cum off me. Then he kissed me again, a long, intensely sexual kiss that promised that we would do this again in the near future. I was ready again right then.

Well, I’m not sure what else to tell. Once the ice was broken, we continued to make love several times a week. I went on the pill, of course, so that pregnancy was not a concern, and he and I grew closer than many married couples. While I didn’t completely avoid sex on dates, it was unusual. I protected my reputation carefully (no danger of going around horny, of course). It was a good deal.

But now I am going to college, and I didn’t choose one close to home. I’ll be close enough to visit, but far enough away to be on my own. Dad wanted it that way and I did, too. We knew from the beginning that our new relationship could not be permanent, and he wants me to date and find a nice guy and marry. So do I.

Will we continue to make love when I’m home? I guess so and hope so, but it will continually be more bittersweet. The time is probably coming when I won’t be near my dad, and I’ll miss him terribly. Certainly he has taught me the difference between lovemaking and sweaty fun, and while I may sometimes choose the latter, the former is more satisfying and long-lasting. I’ll never be sorry that I seduced him.



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