All characters in this work of fiction are 18 years or older, at the time any sexual activities take place. This is just a story, some random thoughts and imaginings, it is not meant to be real, and nor does it reflect any particular views or beliefs and practices of the writer.
Hopefully this will cover many different categories and chapters, so placing it in one particular genre may prove difficult.
~~oOo~~
Chapter Three: A Dream Come True
It is surprising how quickly we accept the abnormal as entirely rational and acceptable, especially when it involves our desires. If I felt any guilt for what my Dad and I had done, then it was fleeting. I convinced myself that it was really for the best. I was far happier, far more content.
Every aspect of my life had improved beyond measure, so how could I feel guilt or remorse.
I felt more confident in myself. I thought I stood straighter, could look anyone directly in the eye, and for the moment, my demons had been satisfied, and I was content and happy.
The following week I returned to university, left alone with my thoughts outwardly; everything was the same, but inwardly, a demanding, needful monster had come screaming into life.
At the weekend, I had to stay at university instead of going home, I could not get out of attending a drinks party with my professor and the dean, and in truth, I was not bothered about seeing Tim. He now seemed so pedestrian and unimaginatively dull in comparison. Not seeing Daddy was a completely different thing, and on Saturday night, my little demons surfaced. It was gone 1 am, and I was still awake, naked in bed, my fingers busy and brutal between my legs, trying to recreate the roughness I needed. I picked up my mobile, my forbidden desires consuming me, and very carefully, I typed "I need you, Daddy, to take care of me", and without hesitating, I hit send.
Finally, I did fall asleep, my sleep was fitful, restless, and I wished I was back in his arms every waking minute. I woke early, dizzy and disoriented, and my mouth felt so empty, with no words to say.
Then laying in my bed, the thoughts come back to disturb me, no lips ravishing mine, no brutal manhood punishing me. My body aches to have Daddy's cock inside me, satisfying me, pumping his seed deep inside me, using me, savage and brutal.
My eyes feel hot as I remember the useless denials of my true desires, hidden away for so long. Such wanton, dark desires have always found their way to surface and consume me, as I touch myself, as I satisfy myself, as I become the monster that I truly am. I dwell on what I am as I lie in my bed, allowing the dangerous thoughts to play on an endless loop in my head. The carefully constructed walls that hide my dark, forbidden fantasy falls away so quickly, and I know my shame, remembering every nasty thought that haunted me through the night.
I open my eyes, my nerves growling with unspeakable hunger, and I know that I am undone, remembering every second, every deep thrust of his beautiful cock.
Rising from my crumpled, dishevelled mess of a bed, I walk silently on bare feet to stand in front of the full-length mirror. I scrutinise myself as if standing outside of my body. I gaze at my reflection in the dark glass. My lips are full and soft, still moist with just the hint of yesterday's gloss. My usually bright eyes are now just dark reflective pools of glittering blue, framed with thick eyelashes that brush my cheeks. My eyes seem to stare back at me, daring me, and I cannot help myself, my forbidden lust playing gently around my lips.
My body feels fantastic, tingling with arousal, barely covered in my favourite short white silk slip, with the thinnest of straps, and the deepest of plunges, revealing a smooth and deeply feminine cleavage.
My body looks so womanly and wanton, my desires plain for me to see in the outline of my dusky pink puffy areolas so neatly punctuated with two stiff, extended nipples.
I am always amazed how my sensitive nipples are eternally hard under the ultra-thin, figure-hugging silk that so skilfully accentuates my slender curves, and my soft, warm skin is simply glowing with sensual energy. I gaze at myself intently, eyes burning, holding the unspoken need that haunts my very soul so deeply I am aching, desperate. I reach up, small pale hands and push the straps off my shoulders, pushing further until the smooth, luxuriant material falls off my naked body, pooling in a heap at my feet.
My tongue, with a life of its own, flicked across my lips and mesmerised, I watched my own hands play along my graceful curves, the delicate contours of my soft, warm sensual skin, my naked wet sex.
I tremble as my darkest fantasy haunts me, the shame of my imagination etched so deeply behind my eyes. Is this who I am, the consequence of being such a monster, a danger to myself. I know it is the ultimate forbidden taboo, but once the thought had seeded itself so long ago, it took hold deeply and blossomed so quickly. Now I have had a taste, and I want it more and more. Its dark tentacles insinuated themselves deep into my very core.
The soft shiver of genuine desire plays so carelessly across my naked flesh, enveloping me in its wicked power, revealing that which I truly desire, the man I love and need so desperately that my body aches to have him inside me. I know that most normal people, society, and the law would condemn me to hell if they knew, but my need is too strong. I stare deep into the mirror as my lips form the forbidden words; I want him to use me and never stop using me.
I hear the words echo in the darkest corners of my mind, in soft muted tones, heightening my senses. The words spoken are low and soft, almost pleading whispers of wicked needs reflecting my wicked sinfulness.
I think about it all the time, nasty thoughts driving through my brain, distracting me, making me squirm, the idea making my treacherous pussy muscles clench, slick and needy, wanting his hard cock. My thoughts fill with obscene pictures until I want to cry aloud; I ache so bad, so damned bad I want to crawl out of my skin.
Anything, everything he wants. Tear my clothes off me, maul my soft tender body, bend me over and take me, deep long and hard, fucking me rough, fucking me all night, fuck me anyway, fuck my mouth, fuck my pussy, even fucking my arse.
I want to kneel at his feet, begging him, with an absolute acceptance and conviction of what I truly am.
For what I am, what I tell myself from the darkness of my soul, is truth and does not fade in the light; my desire for him shines, illuminating my darkest needs. That pure need for him, defining my being, my wants, as one, is him, consuming me in my disgrace.
Since our separation, one very long week ago, time no longer has meaning.
I force myself to dress and prepare for my day. Even though it is still early Sunday morning, my day drags, and I struggle to motivate myself.