Just Me and My Dad

For several weeks, I tried on little tops to find the one that best showed off my huge tits, preparing for my evening with him. I would sit in front of my mirror, testing blouses for the one that would allow him to see lots of my cleavage. It was a seduction that I had been waiting years for, and I wanted it to be just right.

I had masturbated every chance I could find lately. My life had become that of a bored and horny housewife. At thirty-eight years old, I had hit some kind of crazy sexual peak that my hubby could not keep up with. Then when I started reading romance novels, it threw me into an erotic frenzy. My clit was constantly on fire; so sensitive that the slightest brush against it would moisten my pussy lips and turn my nipples into hard little rocks.

There were multitudes of fantasies going through my head during those weeks. There were sexy actors, and guys from the street; ex-boyfriends and women. Anyone who made me cum as I rubbed my clit alone in my bed was allowed to fuck me in my imagination. But, these fantasies only lasted so long. When I became bored, I bought a sweet little vibrator that kept me happy for several weeks. But, even the little vibrator could not keep me from the deep dark thoughts in the back of my mind.

Soon I resorted to rape fantasies, just to get off. I couldn't cum anymore. I had tried everything I could on my own to keep my mind off of the true cock I had been dreaming of lately. My daddy's cock.

I forced myself to masturbate over and over, to cleanse my head of the dark thoughts of my dad. Every time I found a new way to make myself cum, it would bore me too quickly and my pussy would dry in protest. Only one thing would instantly make me wet again; thoughts of my dad fucking me.

In an incident years ago when I was home on break from college, I walked in on him lying naked on his bed. I saw his erect penis, and could not look at anything else. He covered it with the bed sheet when he caught me looking at him. But just the memory of his cock had recently become a guaranteed way to make me cum instantaneously. In my fantasy, though, he does not cover up, but instead I climb onto the bed with him, and gently suck the tip of his cock.

Another fantasy was from a night a few years ago, when I watched a movie together with dad in his living room. The movie was one of his favorites, and it became erotic at times, with vivid sex scenes. I felt uncomfortable in the room with only dad. But when I stood up to leave, my dad became angry and ordered me to stay and finish watching it. That was all that happened. But in my fantasy, I join him on the sofa, cuddling my body close to him. Eventually the erotic movie scenes and my body close to him would prove too tempting, and I would watch his erection grow in his pants. He would start rubbing my thigh, gingerly at first but then more roughly when I do not protest. He would move up my skirt to my panties, expertly moving them aside and running his thick finger up and down the slit of my pussy. I would moan, while he dips the tip of his finger into my warm wet honey pot and rubs the juices all over my throbbing clit until it glistens. Next he moves his hands under my shirt, and cups my enormous breasts in his large hands. I loved the raw, filthy thoughts of being violated. That was all it took, and I would cum all over myself. It was the only way I could cum anymore.

I planned the evening on a night his new wife Elena was out of town. He seemed eager for me to come over, and he called multiple times throughout the day to make sure I was still coming over. It made me hot to be wanted. I brought wine. I knew how alcohol affected him.

"Hi daddy." I said as I entered his house. As I went to hug him, I paused for a moment to press my breasts into him. Then I took my hand and cupped his chin, and kissed him softly on the cheek. I wanted him to know this visit was special.

We were discussing a legal matter of mine, and as he spread the documents onto the table I made sure to stand close to him, bending over the table so he could look down my shirt and see my large breasts. I did not wear a bra that night.

After a few glasses of deep red wine, I planned my move. I remembered a night months ago when he was drunk, he had grabbed my hand and pulled me up the stairs to his office. Out of a drawer he pulled large prints of his wife, Elena, topless on a beach, and handed them to me. He was giddy like a young boy, and beaming with pride at his naughty little photos. I did not know what to say. I remembered feeling embarrassed and confused. But mostly I felt seething jealousy, looking at Elena's large, perfect tits.

"Dad, I want to ask you something." I said, looking as innocently at him as I could across the table. "Do you still have the photos of Elena topless on the beach?"

"Yes." He replied. "I've still got them."

"Could I see them again?" I asked.

"Sure." He said, and I followed him upstairs to his bedroom.

He pulled the photos from his bedside drawer. I plucked one out of his hand, and sat on the bed across from him to look at it. I held the photo, looking at her large, naked breasts. I thought of my dad's hands all over her breasts, massaging them, and felt a rush of jealousy.

"She is so sexy." I said, and moved my other hand to my breast, caressing it lightly through my thin shirt as I stared at the photo.

"Yes, she is." He said, looking at me.

"You are a lucky man." I said. "She is a lucky girl, too." He did not move, just sat watching me stroke my chest.

"I wonder how my breasts compare?" I said, and pulled my shirt over my head. My huge tits popped out, my nipples hard and erect and every nerve in my body tingling. This was it. I hoped that he wanted me.

He moaned at the sight of my bare breasts, and took a sharp breath in. I relaxed a little.

"What do you think of them?" I asked, innocently fondling my tits. I began squeezing my nipples, making them even harder, so he could see them at their best.

"You have beautiful breasts." He groaned, his eyes dark with passion.

"Thank you." I said, flirting.

I leaned back on his bed, resting my elbows behind me so that my back arched, my tits pushed out, on display to him. He moved over to me slowly, not looking at my face, and lightly caressed my breast. I gasped at how dirty I felt. My pussy warmed and tingled.

His hand cupped my breast, and then pulled at my nipple. I could feel his body relax, and he started rubbing his hands all over my soft flesh, then to my other breast, massaging it roughly. He lowered his head and I watched my dad's mouth sucking on my hard nipple, his tongue rolling all around the hard tip, his spit making it glisten. It made me almost cream myself. I closed my eyes and willed my orgasm to pace itself.

His hand moved to rub my tummy, then continued down further and further until he reached the elastic waistband of my skirt. I longed for his fingers to dip down under the fabric. Instead, he surprised me and his fingers found their way up my thighs from the bottom of my skirt and up to my shaved pussy. I could feel his warm breath on my face. I moaned as he rubbed his finger along my slit. His finger found my warm wetness, and he started a slow circle around my clit. My pelvis rose to him instinctively. He smiled, and started rubbing faster, with deep pressure.

"Yes." I moaned, hoping he would keep going.

My clit burned from his touch. He spread my pussy lips apart, exposing my raw clit and used two fingers to rub it roughly. Then he pumped two fingers into my pussy hole. I moaned deeply, feeling the tingle in my lower stomach so intensely I thought I would burst. But, I could not cum for some reason, though I desperately wanted to.

Then, with his fingers still stroking my pussy, he put his lips to mine, his tongue penetrating my mouth, and kissed me deeply and sweetly. There it was. My body tensed, my legs twitching as the orgasm rocked my body. I relaxed into him. I moaned as the juices streamed down my pussy, coating his fingers.