Shelly's Secret Chapter 3 by doll1

By Greg

( True Story, Incest )

“This story contains a graphic account of sex between a father and his daughter. If this is not your thing, please read something more to your liking. All persons in this story are of legal age.”

Since the first two chapters received a positive rating, I thought I would continue on with Shelly’s story. My sister Shelly was fine with all this, but was somewhat taken-back however, by some of the rude comments directed towards her. For this next chapter, she offered an interesting suggestion. She volunteered to tell this part from her first hand perspective. I liked the idea and we will see how it goes over. Shelly is not that much into the actual writing, so I’ll still do the actual typing and editing, but it is pretty much written in her own words.

Shelly,

First off, let me say how amazed I am at the amount of interest in my brother’s story. He had told me a while ago that he was considering doing something like this. I was fine with it and a little bit curious about the whole thing. I was a little upset at a few of the comments that came in response to it, particularly the ones about me being a “bitch or whore.”

I have turned out just fine, by the way. Thank you. I grew up okay. I got married to a really sweet guy, and I have two wonderful sons whom I love very much. I have a good-paying job that I really like. My husband was in the military and shipped out overseas. He died three years ago in an accident aboard a ship. It wasn’t combat-related; someone just got careless.

For those thinking I’m all messed up mentally or something, sorry, I’m just fine there too. I really don’t understand all the judgmental attitudes out there. For Pete’s sake, we are all adults. My story is on an adult website and is being read by grown people who choose to go there. Why be so judgmental about my life? For me, sex is fun and a part of life, with anyone. What is the big deal? We all want it. We all do it, and we all need it. Why can’t everyone just enjoy it for what it is? To me, sex is best with someone you love, be it a friend, spouse, or even a relative.

What’s the difference? My family members are my best friends, and I love them the most. Greg is giving me nasty looks now, so I better end my speech and get to the story.

In Greg’s first story, you heard how he got involved in my sex life. I know he wrote that it was all Dad’s doing, but I have to confess that a lot of the initial stuff was me teasing and pushing things. True, Dad jumped at the chance, as most men would. This is my version of how things really got started.

My memory of how this all began is when I used to sit next to Dad in the evenings. He always crashed in the living room after dinner and watched TV. Greg usually cut out right after dinner to go to his buddy’s house until our 9:30 curfew. He was always late getting home. Remember, all this happened in an era before computers, video games, and cell phones. I was bored, and maybe I was just looking to gain some attention.

After finishing up kitchen chores and homework, I would find some excuse to join Dad on the couch. Being affectionate, I would go and try to snuggle up next to him. With Mom gone in the evenings at work, we had lots of time alone. I think things really got started because I got bored with what he was watching on TV

I had started resting my head on Dad’s lap. He never objected to this, so I continued doing it for a while. I soon became aware that if I gently rocked my cheek into his lap, he seemed to get uneasy. I began to notice other things too. He never said to stop, so I persisted. I was thinking this was a game he was playing and that he was trying to ignore me.

I continued and watched him fidget around. I was playfully rocking my face around once when, finally, he grabbed my head. He held me still and then, with a firm hand, pushed the side of my face tightly against his lap. That’s when I really felt the pressure from his stuff against my cheek.

My constant teasing had finally gotten him aware of me. Now I had his attention. I knew I was pretty clueless about things. I wasn’t thinking about where any of this was really leading. At some point, he called my bluff. He asked me if I wanted to see what I was doing to him. I didn’t think he was really mad or anything at me, so I just kind of acted “like whatever.”

At this point, he undid the buckle on his belt, unsnapped the top of his jeans, and pulled down his zipper. I just sat there, unsure of what he was expecting of me. After letting me sit puzzled for a few moments, he made some statement like,

“Well girl, take a look at what you got started.”

His briefs were stretched tight and bulging upward. I wasn’t going to do anything but look. I had just gotten my head over his zipper and had just begun to try to make out the shape beneath the fabric. Then suddenly, he caught the back of my head and shoved my face right down into his crotch.

Dad had always worn white briefs, or “tighty-whities,” as I called them. He pushed my face right up against the fabric. As my face was being held there, I don’t remember resisting. I guess he thought I would fight back or jerk my head up and try to pull away. I have always had a little competitive, tom-boy streak in me. So, I went with it and stayed passive, sort of like, “Yeah, so what?”

I remember the scent of the fabric softener Mom had always used. My nose was sort of pressed out flat. When he finally let me up, I looked to see him smiling.

“Well then, why don’t you have a real good look?” he said, challenging me.

I will admit to being a bit curious, and I was never one to back off a dare. I tried to work my fingers into the slot in his underwear, but you know how tight those damn things are. After watching me fiddle around for a bit, he finally stood up and dropped his jeans and briefs to about his knees, then flopped back down on the couch. I sat there staring at the first male cock I had ever seen.

I know guys are all hung up on size and all, but I don’t have any measurements I can give you. I’m not good at guessing how many inches or whatever something is. All I could think was, “How do you walk around all day with something like that between your legs?” Doesn’t it get squashed or pinched when you move or sit? I was thinking it was always that size. I hadn’t realized that I had caused it to swell up like that.

Dad was pretty hairy around his balls, and the majority of his cock seemed twisted and bent. I was totally absorbed by how alive it seemed to be. It seemed like a coiled-up living thing. Dad reached down and straightened out the shaft, sort of letting it fall across the leg closest to me.

The crown is what fascinated me the most. It was a deep crimson color. I had sort of figured a guy’s cock would be more like a finger. Remember, I had never seen a real cock, and I had nothing really to compare it to. Anyway, Dad just left it lying on its side, sort of pointing toward me. He said that I could touch it if I wanted to.

I wasn’t about to fall for the same trick by leaning over to get a better look, so I cautiously put my hand on his thigh and moved his leg somewhat to see if I could get it to move more. At my touch, it seemed to try to stand up on its own. Now feeling more confident, I reached for it. I gently lifted the shaft part upward. I was stunned at how heavy it felt. It didn’t need much help to keep standing upright after that.

This all started with me sitting by him and playfully touching it after that. I have always enjoyed the feeling that I can make any man respond to my touch. I would often just lay there along-side him blowing at it, or softly caressing the sides of it. Sometimes I’d just trace little circles in the soft skin of his ball sack with my fingers. That would usually cause his dick to lengthen and turn a deep red color. I was so fascinated with it moving, as if of its own free will.

I remember a certain ease during all this; I wasn’t scared, ashamed, or anything. It just seemed to be something we fell into naturally. At first, I had no idea what to do beyond this. Besides, I really did just like watching it twitching about as I teased it. We continued to mess around like this for several weeks.

I don’t think I would have thought of it, so it was probably at Dad’s suggestion that I began using my mouth and tongue more. Dad had always just showered right after dinner, so I felt no issue with using my mouth.

I became accustomed to the regular taste of it. But I noticed changes as things went on. I didn’t know back then that it was really “pre-cum” that I was sometimes tasting. It never turned me off though. This one time, after messing around for a while, Dad actually had a real cum. I had been touching and softly rubbing the side of his shaft when he suddenly groaned. He knocked my hand away, grabbed his dick and began furiously jerking at it.

With very little warning, a spurt of the white cum stuff just burst out of his cock. Several more shots lept upward; they cleared his knees before landing on the floor. The rest got all over the armrest of the couch. I was scared at first. He was groaning so loudly and shaking all over. His face seemed wracked with severe pain. It really scared the hell out of me. I thought maybe he was having a heart attack or something. He went like this for what seemed like forever. When he finally stopped, he calmed me by saying . “It was all OK.”

I knew what had come out wasn’t pee, but he had never warned me about any of this orgasm stuff. He asked me to lay my head back down on his leg and just be still. I remember watching the cum stuff dribble down the back of his fist.

Dad was sort of out of breath, but he quietly began explaining about what had just happened. I was completely fascinated by the whole experience. The aroma of the stuff seemed so masculine. I remember asking to touch it. I used my finger to feel it first. I brought a sample close to my nose to smell it. Dad watched intently to see what I would do next. I had it near my nose to get a better whiff of it. He watched me do this and seemed pleased that I wasn’t put off or grossed out.