Over the next few weeks I thought more and more about my “Daddy” fantasy. I still worried about him, so sometimes I would get up and go make sure he was ok, and crawl into bed with him. This had happened so many times by now, that Daddy didn’t say anything against it. If he was aware, he tried to stay on his side of the bed as much as possible. If he said anything like “you’re too old to sleep with your Dad”, my reply would be that I was sad and needed to be near him. That always satisfied him.
As time went on, there were more and more occasions when Daddy would roll over and “spoon” me in his sleep. Invariably, I could feel his hard cock on my ass and sometimes he helped himself to a handful of my breasts. He even muttered words that were obviously intended for my mother.
More and more I worried that I was the cause of his frustration. I wondered if he masturbated. I was really naive and had been told that it was painful for men to go without sexual release. It was my fault. And now, here we were. Just us. Mom was gone. Was I now the woman of the house? I was 18; an adult. I cooked. I cleaned. I bought groceries. Was I supposed to be the woman in every sense of the word? If it was my fault that Mom was dead (and I didn’t allow myself to dwell on that very often), did I owe it to my Daddy to take her place in every way?
The thought was perplexing, scary, and extremely exciting. To say that I thought Daddy was sexy was an understatement. He was tall, slender, with a flat belly and with a muscular chest and arms. He kept in shape by going to the gym occasionally, running, and swimming in our pool. He was tan, with brown hair and brown eyes. He was always clean shaven and neat. He was the man with whom I compared every other man. Besides being handsome, he was good. Moral. A church-goer. He lived the Golden Rule and had tried to teach us humility and to always turn the other cheek.
One night Daddy awakened me by scooting close to me, obviously asleep, and stroking my body, including my breasts. I could feel his cock hardening. He squeezed a nipple very lightly and kissed the back of my neck, sending shivers of pleasure down my body. He whispered, “Ann, I love you.” Ann, of course, was my Mom.
I pushed my bottom back against his hard cock, trying to detect its size, wondering how long it was. I surreptitiously reached my hand behind me, my hands shaking, wondering what he would do if he woke up. I managed to grasp his cock through his boxer shorts. FUCK!! It felt HUGE. I could feel its heat even through the cloth.
I didn’t massage or squeeze, for fear of awakening him. I just loosely held it and felt of it. It felt long, but of course I couldn’t be sure. It just seemed BIG. I was so nervous, but so turned on. Assuming that he had not been masturbating, he had not had release in 3 months or more. I knew been told that “saving it up” produced more cum. I had a girlfriend that told me that, if her boyfriend went several days without cumming that he came way more than normal. I was naive, but not stupid. I assumed that teenagers produced more than men Dad’s age, but still!
My girlfriend, Amy, told me that she and her boyfriend had never gone all the way, but that they did oral sex all the time. She told me exactly what they did to each other and it really turned me on to hear it. I think she knew that it turned me on, and that’s why she was so eager to tell me about it. I thought I knew enough about it to give a blowjob. Anyway, I was thinking that my Daddy needed release. Wouldn’t it be wonderful to help him? Didn’t I owe that to him?
The room was dark. I wanted to see it! I knew that turning on the bedside light would probably awaken him, but if it did, so what? I reluctantly released his cock and scooted over to the edge of the bed, safely away from him. I leaned over and turned the light on, fully expecting him to awaken. But he didn’t. In fact, when the light came on, he snored and rolled onto his back. I waited a couple of minutes to make sure he was still asleep, uncovered him, and could see from the bulge in his boxers that he was at least still somewhat aroused. I got on my knees and carefully lifted the elastic of his boxers so that I could look into them. FUCK!! It was not fully hard, but it was thick and beautiful. It looked menacing, which excited me no end. My heart was racing, my nipples were hard, my breath was shallow, and my pussy was soaked.
I pulled the top of his boxers down as much as I could without really pulling hard, trying not to awaken him. His cock lay there against his hairy, flat tummy. To me, it was beautiful. A work of art, even though it seemed to be shrinking. I was so scared to touch it, but I reached out and lifted it in my hand. It immediately started hardening again. I was mesmerized. I watched, not moving, as it continued to inflate, the head becoming swollen and shiny. FUCK!! I was so turned on. I wanted to stroke it. I wanted to lick it. I wanted to suck it until he flooded my mouth with his pent-up Daddy-jism!!
I had not noticed that his breathing pattern had changed. “Pammy!! What are you doing? NO. NO. NO. NO!!” and he jumped out of bed with such a look of grief and perplexity that it scared the shit out of me. He stood there, regarding me, with a look of utter disgust on his face.
I burst into tears. “I’m so sorry, Daddy. Please don’t hate me! Please??”
“What were you doing? he demanded.
I was sobbing, practically hysterical. Tears ran down my face. I was shaking all over. Had I just ruined my relationship with my Dad? I tried to talk, but was shaking so much that I was incoherent. Daddy sat down and put his arms around me. “Shhh… Honey, don’t cry. I love you. But what you’re doing is inappropriate. Whatever possessed you to do such a thing?”
He said he loved me! I hadn’t ruined our relationship! I could explain this. Couldn’t I? Daddy got some tissue for me to blow my nose and I calmed down. I said, “Daddy, it’s my fault that Mom is dead.” At that I broke into tears again and I could see tears pooling in his eyes.
“Pammy. No. It is not your fault that Mom is gone. Are you still thinking about that horrible remark I said when…” tears coursed down his cheeks as he stroked my face and hair…”when we got the news? Please, Honey, please forgive me.”
At that, his body started shuddering and he slipped to the floor, laying his head in my lap, weeping, breaking my heart. My poor Daddy. I loved him more at that instant than I ever had before. I stroked his hair and continued telling him, over and over, that I loved him.
Finally he got back on the bed and covered himself with a sheet. He was sniffling. I said, “Daddy, I felt like I took her away and I needed to take her place. I love you. I know that men have needs and I was just trying to do what I could…” I stammered, not quite being able to explain what was in my heart.
“No, Pammy. You are not your mother and nobody can take her place. Especially not THAT way. That’s wrong, Honey. You know that. We’ve taught you about sex.”
“But Daddy, doesn’t it hurt? I heard that it hurts a man not to… you know.”
Daddy managed a laugh. “Don’t believe everything you hear. No, it doesn’t hurt. I shouldn’t talk about this with you, Honey. I don’t think you should sleep down here anymore. If you get scared, come and wake me up, but this is just inappropriate.”
“Please, Daddy?” I protested. “I get scared that you are going to hurt yourself because you’re so sad. I only wanted to make sure you were OK. When you rolled over against me, it made me start thinking that you needed a woman, and that it was my duty. That sounds stupid. I’m sorry.”
Daddy enfolded me in his arms and kissed my forehead. “You are the most precious person on this earth to me now, Pammy. I would never, ever hurt you. I’m certainly not going to harm myself.” He kissed me again, and I leaned up and pecked his lips with mine.
Despite his admonition that I could not sleep in his bed anymore, I did it anyway. He protested a couple of times, but I insisted that I needed to snuggle with him for comfort. He would say, “no funny business” and we would both laugh. Little did he know that my mind was still filled with the image of his hard cock and I could still feel his hands on my breasts. I often would get so excited when I snuggled with him that I would go upstairs and masturbate, then come down again and sleep the rest of the night.
As a way to get his attention, I changed my nightly ritual by getting dressed for bed shortly after our evening meal each evening. I nearly always wore a tee shirt with panties underneath. The tee shirt rarely went far past my panties. I was tall, and unless I had an over-sized tee shirt, it wasn’t going to come down very far. My breasts were fully developed and had been since I was 15 or so. The tee shirt enhanced them nicely. I wanted Daddy to notice. For years I had craved his compliments, whether it was for a dress I wore to church, or an outfit for school, or just a “you’re so pretty”. I wanted him to notice me; I wanted him to see me as a woman. A sexy woman.
Occasionally I would notice him looking at my legs, but more often my breasts. I would sometimes look in a mirror to see if he was checking me out. Sometimes he was, and I loved it.
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