My Daughters Bleaching
First off all, let me thank Samantha Turner, a volunteer editor on this site, for her superb editing skills and encouragement. Without her support the story would have been clunky, littered with convoluted structures and poor grammar.
This story is loosely based on real events, how I found out my daughter was living out a secret life, and my secret fantasy, How she broke my heart, shamed me and how I nearly wanked myself into a coma. This blew up about ten years ago. It has been embellished for fun, but the rough story happened. If I continue, it will enter the fantasy zone more and more. All characters are above 18 and had a great horny consensual time.
I'm not a professional writer and this is my first story, so I hope you enjoy it. I also hope the grammar isn't too bad and the story has a flow you'll enjoy.
***************************************************************************************************************
It was late Sunday morning, I was in the garden, pruning the roses, cutting the grass, and cleaning up leaves. The July sun was warming my back as I therapeutically detoxed making sure my picture perfect world stayed picture perfect. The Mrs and the two younger kids were out doing kids sports and Kelly, my oldest, had turned nineteen. She worked the weekend night shifts at a warehouse in the centre of the city giving her extra money while at university. She didn't need it, but she was self reliant, and I was happy that she had shown the maturity and the independence to get a job and pay for her own lifestyle. She had a routine that when she finished her shifts she would go and sleep over with her friend Sara, a lovely Muslim girl who also worked at the same warehouse, they went to the same university and studied the same course. After the shift ended, they would watch some movies and chat, finally Kelly would come home tired, exhausted, and sleep.
While I was mowing the lawn, I noticed a dark green Jaguar slow down to a stop on the opposite side of the street, the driver was just past my sight I could see the back of the Jag, normally I wouldn't pay any attention to the car, but this one was impressive, I do like my cars, and a racing green Jag is a visual pleasure. I couldn't see the driver through the tint on the back window, but I could make out the broad shoulders and the back of his bald head.
I have a character flaw and one way it expresses itself is I am a car snob. I often check and compare my BMW and Mercedes to other peoples cars, checking the alpha status. You win some, you lose some. I looked at the Jag, I liked what I saw but I felt the pride of knowing mine were just a bit better. It's a bad trait, but one I have, I get the buzz of seeing a nice car, and knowing my penis extension is bigger so to say. I was curious to see who was in the car, and I was surprised to see Kelly getting out of the back, wearing her baggy sportswear, long dark shorts that stopped just above the knees, white socks and trainers, and a t-shirt I hadn't seen her wearing before. She got out without thanking the driver, she slowly walked over to me. The car growled and pulled away.
"Hi Dad."
"Who was that?"
"Oh, a corporate car,, the warehouse has a deal for night shift workers, I can use it for the ride home from Sara's."
"Oh nice, how was work?"
"Terrible, lots of jokers, lifting and carrying, I'm exhausted, and so tired, I feel my knees are going to break," I looked down and saw her grazed red knees.
"What happened?" I asked, indicating the slight red bruising.
"I had lots of lifting, up and down and on my knees all night it's very demanding. Dad, I've got a headache, I'm feeling tired, I didn't get much sleep. So I'm off to bed." She cut the conversation, leaned over, and kissed me on the cheek.
I cut in, "Is that a new T-shirt?" I asked, she was wearing a nice fitted T-shirt with a playing card of the Queens of Hearts printed on the front.
"Yeah, me and Sara saw these, and bought one each. Aren't they lovely?"
"Yes, sweetheart, they are. They make you look great," she smiled, pushed her glasses up her nose, and walked into the house, and straight to her bedroom.
Now, I'm not a prude, and I have the internet, and I am aware of White Men and Asian Female porn genres, I'm also aware of the Queen of Hearts symbol, but outside of that mental flash, I didn't jump to conclusions. It was a nice T-shirt and thankfully Kelly was finally expressing her style without picking dour or boring clothes.
I did say I'm not a prude, but fuck my luck, my wife is, sex is a taboo, and something as a dirty concession, and that cultural restriction pervaded my family. It was never talked about with the kids, and all signs of attractive or sexual expression was stamped out by Theresa, had her perfect children, asexual, innocently looking, attractive, clean dull, polite kids. Straight shapeless clothes, boring glasses, clean haircuts and no makeup...ever.
I smiled as she walked into the house, the QoH reminding me that a few years back I went through the WMAF kink myself, and tried to spice up our sex life, by getting my wife to role play, her coming home from a tryst, and me being a cuck, waiting to hear about it...she reluctantly played along and pretty soon it was used against me as I was clearly a sexual deviant and disgusting. Fuck me, why did I marry that frigid cold bitch from hell?
I remember that fine summer's day, because it was the first time I got a sniff of my daughter's sexuality. I put it to myself, shook my head to clear it of deviant thoughts, and said it's all in my mind and buried those thoughts deep down. However two things started to build up in parallel, one I was in control of, and the other, my daughter, that surfaced those dark thoughts often.
Firstly my dormant imagination as mentioned had started to go to very dark places. I'm not proud, I'd deny it even to myself, and was disgusted that I could even think such a thing, as my cock stiffened and I wanked, crashing into loathing after the orgasm. A blanket of shame dropped over me. I started to watch WMAF porn, I became a "fan" of a few asian girls who played with whites and included asian cuck humiliation, and I yearned to have my daughter play out my fantasy, while I wanked to those beautiful, soft, slanty eyed asian girls. I know it's sick and I know its taboo, but it was what was happening and I was addicted.
The other thing was Kelly started to make changes, occasionally she would wear QoH earrings, small badges was sown on to her backpack, and pin on her jacket. Her overall style of clothes did not change, or her hairstyle, no tats or short skirts, she continued her routine and the only visible thing was she increased her commitment to the gym and I noticed she had a sports top with the logo. The QoH apparel was innocent enough for those not in the know, cute even, but totally corrupting to me. We did discuss it once, and she brushed it off as she played cards with Sara and they liked the design.
This went on for a few months and we entered the cold British winter. The routine was set, on the weekends, our precious baby would work night shifts and then stay round Sara's house. Come home on Sunday afternoon, tired, with a headache, grumpy, and non responsive. I was caught up at work and found comfort in my private secret life with my favourite "girls" and on the weekends did the home maintenance, and my wife played tennis, joined jogging groups, and stayed frigid while ignoring my needs. So no changes there then.
It was a fateful Friday night, and a work colleague Doug was having his leaving drinks. I was always competitive with Doug, his car, his wife, his clothes, his performance, the way he would try to dominate every meeting, and there I was matching him. I hated that guy, and most of all, I wanted to beat him in everything. He was a big man, had a bald head, and carried his weight well. I was lean, athletic, and well groomed, but Doug was built like a rugby player. He had white privileged, good looking in a brutal kind of way, charming, I'll give him that, but no fucking way was he the Alpha at work or outside. Fuck that guy, I was his superior.
Doug's farewell dinner was at a fancy restaurant, followed by a bar, and then a club. For a man at sixty, he was going hard. Knocking back the drinks, carousing, and holding court, the team lapped it up, and he thrived on the attention. Initially I was planning on ducking out early, but one thing led to another and I stayed. At the club, Doug sidled up to me. "Hey Heung, we always clashed but I promise you buddy, I respected you out of all the fuckers here. Huh huh" he laughed, and looked me in the eye, and shook me by the hand. And with that, almost by magic, all my animosity was gone, just washed away. I was the last man standing and I was going to be magnanimous in victory.
"I love you man!" I said as I gave him a hug.
"I love you long time, ten dolla!" he replied as he gave me a bear hug....What a racist prick, even when leaving he had to showed his lack of class. But let bygones be bygones.