Titty Touch Therapy

WARNING: There is INCEST between a father and daughter in the setup to this story.

All characters are over 18. This is the beginning of a series, but the story is a concluded part.

This is a story about a slightly unrealistic compulsive behavior, which leads to situations similar to mind control. There is reluctance, and there is perverted sex between an old man and a younger woman, including piss. Avoid if any of this is not for you.

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Old man Isac could tell that something was off when he saw Helen sitting on the stairs. She was staring down between her feet and didn't even look up.

The young woman from the apartment below his own struggled with everyday life, and you could always tell. Recently, much of her time seemed to be spent caring for her father, who was pleasant-enough but had his quirks just the same as his daughter. The oddest thing about them was probably the way they were still living together when she was already an adult woman. There was never a sign of a guest or a boyfriend. Isac was curious, but he also didn't want to intrude on their privacy.

To Isac, she was a beautiful flower, withering slowly in that apartment. If he was to guess, she had to be a couple of years over 25 at most. At 71, he was too old to be making inappropriate observations about her large well-shaped breasts or her young and tight ass, so he made a point to always knock those thoughts straight out of his head.

After his wife's death years ago, his sex life sadly appeared to be over. It was a difficult thing to accept. In his opinion, the purely physical part of fucking was the greatest pleasure life had to offer, and now he just had to be glad for old times' sake. Either way, the years dragged on, and horniness didn't bother him the way it used to.

And if the young woman on the stairs had any need for him now, it was as a provider of support and wisdom as opposed to a lecherous simpleton neighbor.

"How are you?" he asked with honest care as he stopped before passing her by on the stairs.

He noticed that the door to her apartment was open. There appeared to be someone inside.

"Hi Isac," she responded, and then she took a long pause before she continued. "Well, you know, my father died."

"Oh," Isac responded, standing there stunned. "I'm sorry. I-Well... I don't know what to say."

After some hesitation, he started going up the stairs again.

"No, stay!" she begged, looking up. "It was a few days ago. I think I'm ok. Except, his sister is in there now, going through his stuff for things to take. I could use an ally."

Isac sat down. He didn't know quite how to act, but the way she leaned in against him seemed to invite some form of embrace. He carefully put a comforting arm over her shoulder, and she didn't pull back. He didn't want to pry for information, but there was really only one question on his mind.

"I didn't know your father well," he finally phrased it. "I've seen you spend your whole life caring for him. You must be a very loving person. I'll be here, if you need help."

"You've always been nice to me," she praised him. "I feel like I can trust you. You know, right now I really need someone."

She paused for while, trying to find words. You could tell she was looking for courage.

"I stayed with him for myself too," she volunteered. "I have a problem, and I guess you can say he helped me."

Then, she proceeded to tell Isac about her life. She clearly had a pent-up need to share this with someone. The story poured out of her.

* * *

She told him about how she'd had obsessive thoughts all her life. Apparently, the problem had been passed down from her mother, and throwing a child into the equation had been too much. The mother had left them and cut all contact when Helen was very young, leaving Helen with only vague memories.

In later years, Helen's own problems had started spiraling out of control, rendering her incapable of handling the simplest tasks. There had been no money to put her in therapy. Her father had spent all his resources just seeing her through school.

Then, through a lucky blessing, her father had figured out how to use her obsessions in a constructive way when she was 18. It had been nothing short of a miracle, making her able to deal with anything. She'd taken nursing school, and she'd gotten a job, and she had supported him so he'd been able to have a few final years of well-earned rest.

* * *

At this point in the story, the aunt came out of the apartment and looked at the pair with disapproval. She started walking up and down the stairs with things from the apartment. Soon, she came by one last time and explained that she had everything and that Helen should just call if she wanted more help. They politely said their goodbyes.

Isac asked Helen if she wanted to come up for a coffee, or if she just wanted peace and quiet.

"I have some coffee," she answered. "Would you like to come in? I don't feel like being alone right now."

They kept up some small talk in her kitchen while she made coffee. She talked about her plans to sell the apartment and find a smaller place to save money. Everything was going fine until Isac asked her about finding a boyfriend. This turned her quiet for a while.

"I was going to look for one now," she said eventually, as if she was revealing a big secret. "There was no point while Dad was alive. The way he dealt with my obsessions was... well... special."

Isac's interest was roused, but she was hesitant to elaborate.

Building courage to trust someone was difficult with her obsessive tendencies. But this old man was her neighbor since 7 years, and he was always but supportive and pleasant. He wanted to help. If she couldn't trust him, then who could she trust?

"I'm actually scared to talk about this," she admitted, hesitating again. "But I think I might need advice. I might be about to say something very personal about my father."

"I'm not the judging kind," Isac reassured. "I just want to be helpful, I promise. And if you don't want to tell me, you don't have to."

She had been waiting forever to share this secret.

"When I was 18, my father discovered a way to get me to do anything," she started. "But I'm worried about people taking advantage of me if I tell them."

"I promise," Isac started, looking into her eyes to emphasize the weight of his promise. "I promise, I would never take advantage of you. What do you mean by getting you to do anything?"

"I mean anything. Anything he wanted. I don't know how to say it. If he... if he grabbed my breasts, I would do anything he asked me to. I know it sounds insane, but it was a big help to someone like me."

"You're right. I don't think I understand."

"I know. I don't really think I can explain it well. It has to do with this turmoil inside me. This mental block. But then, when he grabbed my breasts, it just disappeared. It just feels good. My nipples get hard."

"But that's normal, isn't it? What does that have to do with your... problems?"

She could see that she needed to explain better.

* * *

She proceeded to describe how the purely physical feeling allowed her to block out any intrusive thoughts. There was pleasure, spreading from her tits all through her body, and it made everything crystal clear in her head. It made her ready to do anything, and her peace of mind always lasted long enough. So, if her father held her breast and asked her to make dinner, for example, then she could focus with complete clarity all the way through it instead of panicking the way she usually did.

During one of her tantrums, he had touched her chest by mistake while he tried to hold her. He had been shocked by her abrupt switch from panic to calm and clarity. She had asked him -- begged him even -- to keep holding her, and he had grown more and more bewildered by the situation. In the end, he had sent her shopping, allowing him some time to compose himself. He had been surprised to see her return with bags full of everything on her list for the first time ever.

Then, about a week later, when everything in their life had seemed to be turning hopeless again, he had grabbed her breasts on purpose out of desperation. Again, their issues had been resolved, and he had discovered that this strategy worked for most things, including her education. Their lives had improved on almost every front.

* * *

"I notice you don't wear a bra," Isac observed.

"Yeah, he told me to remove it. Maybe to make the effect better. I don't know. Now, it's become another obsession to never wear one."

"So, how did it work. Did he force you to do things, or was it all voluntarily? I'm sorry. You don't have to answer. I just don't understand how you feel about all this?"

"I don't know. I guess I do it voluntarily. I just found something that switches off what's wrong with my mind, and now I don't want to break the spell. I guess I have limits, but I never found them. I just do it."

She stopped talking, and then her eyes teared up. He could tell she was about to tell him something profound. He was being sympathetic and disarming about the whole thing, and she finally decided to put more faith in him. For the first time in her adult life, she dared to really trust someone to help her. She started crying for real while it all came out.

"I never meant to tell anyone," she started. "But you almost know already, right? Please, never tell anyone! I'm not proud, but I think Daddy deserved it after all the struggling. He wasn't evil, you know. It's just, he had needs."

She kept crying. Isac waited for her to continue until she did.

* * *

One night, when she had been trying to sleep, her father had come sneaking into her bedroom.

She had noticed him hesitate, seeing her still awake. But then she had seen the look in his eyes. On some level, she had known what he had come there to do, but she hadn't been able to believe it was really happening. She hadn't been able to believe he of all people would do this to her.

He had hushed her and tried to comfort her, but she had seen the the swelling in his pants. His hand had reached out slowly, going for her breast. She had tried to huddle up, feeling afraid. She hadn't wanted him to touch her this way now, but he had pulled her resisting arm out of the way with ease.

She remembered the feelings very vividly.

First, there had been paralyzing anxiety. Then, when he had grabbed the breast, all her obsessive thoughts had blown away, and she had only felt relief over not having to think any more.

He had told her to take her tits out. The request had made her wet between the legs. She had pulled her night-shirt up willingly, exposing her breasts for her daddy, and he had gasped and touched his swollen cock through his pants. Then, he had leaned up and licked her nipple inside his mouth, making the sounds of a perverted, degenerate old man while sucking his daughter's tit.

Soon after, she had followed orders to remove her panties and spread her legs, showing her daddy her waiting hairy daughter cunt.

He had taken his cock out while staring in awe between her cunt and her naked tits. For the first time, she had seen her father's thick, veiny organ all swollen. She had raised her cunt in the air, luring her daddy in. She had wanted it for his sake.

He had climbed into bed, and she had let him push the cock inside her. She had let her daddy use her as a hole until he emptied his over-filled balls inside her. She had been the best daughter in the world, loving him without boundaries. His hands had squeezed her breasts in the most perfect ways.

Thinking back now, she couldn't remember ever being happier.

It had never stopped after that night. Sometimes, he had put his hand on her breast before bedtime and told her to sleep without panties. She had always been nervous, waiting in bed, but every fear had turned to ecstasy once he had finally come in to use that whorish cunt that fit so snugly around his daddy-cock.

Sometimes, he hadn't even bothered with the work of fucking her. He had simply put his hand on her tit and told her to come to the couch before bed. Then, he had made her kneel down and suck his horny-drooling erection to ejaculation.

He would tell her when he came. He would tell her to be a good little girl and drink the sperm. And she would swallow it all, enjoying it, because her daddy would be touching her tit.

* * *

At the end of the story, Isac was visibly conflicted. Helen was blushing from what could be excitement, but now she shied away again, looking for safety and comfort.

"Well," he hesitated. "I was already about to suggest therapy for those problems you talked about. But this takes us to a whole new level. I mean... are you ok?"

Helen appeared to be struggling to find words. She eventually agreed that therapy was in the cards for her. Still, she was worried about losing her only coping mechanism if she tried to fix everything too quick. Instead, her plan seemed to be to try to hold it together until she found a boyfriend who was perfect enough to give her all control back through tit-squeezes. This plan didn't seem likely to work without a hitch, but Isac felt he had no option but to encourage her.

"I'm ready to try to take control," she explained. "I'm ready for a real life just for me, without being used by anyone. I felt really good getting all this off my chest. I feel excited about the future for the first time, ever!"

"Well, I guess I'm glad I could help then," Isac responded with a heartfelt smile. "It's a bit much to take in. I still can't believe you would be hypnotized the way you describe."

"It's not like that," she said, searching for a better description. "I think maybe I could say no, but I never wanted to push fate. I found a way that worked, and it honestly felt amazing. I never wanted to risk messing with that."

Isac reassured her once again that he would always be there if she needed help, and you could tell how he relaxed her with his disarming smile. They started repeating thanks and reassurances, and Isac decided it might be time to get up and leave. He appeared shook-up from taking all this in, which made sense to Helen. He grabbed his cup to take it to the sink.

"Oh, let me!" she said, getting in his way, and they ended up walking across the kitchen together.

He took a step in behind her. For a brief moment, she had the feeling that his body cornered her slightly, and she tried to move further in to make sure she wasn't in the way. But after he put his cup down, he simply stood still, keeping her trapped against the sink. It wasn't until she noticed his hand reaching closer that she understood what was about to happen.

"Oh no," she let out with a trembling voice.

"Just a little bit," he whispered with nervous excitement. "I just want to try it. Don't move..."

There was no place to go, so she had no choice but to stay in agitation while his hand came closer. Then, it happened.

She felt his wonderful hands kneading her fuck tits. She had been wrong to worry. His hands on her tits were all that mattered now. She was alive again!

"I'm so sorry," he begged with the regret of someone realizing his errors in a panic. "It was just an impulse. It's been so long since I touched a tit. Please, forgive me! I'll never do it again."

But he never removed his hand. When she didn't resist, it even squeezed a little tighter.

"Please," she begged back without knowing what she was begging for. "Please! Please tell me what to do!"

"Oohhh," he responded, processing his triumph. "So, you like it? Mmhhh, and I really like how it feels in my hand. All young and firm... Can you take me to your bed? Can you show me where you used to fuck Daddy?"

Finally, she knew what to do! You could see her inner peace when she took his hand and led him obediently into her bedroom.

This was obviously the room she had grown up in, and it looked frozen in time from quite a while back. There were still cute posters on the walls. The chair and desk were a mix of pink and white that didn't appear to fit a grown woman. The bed was the cheap, rickety kind that you would expect her to have grown out of and upgraded years ago.

Isac made her hop into bed and lie down for him. All the time, he manhandled her soft tits.

"Oohh, this makes me feel like a sick old man," he informed her. "Mmhh, your body is so beautiful and young! Aahhh, touching you makes me feel like the dirtiest pervert on the planet."

"Oohhh, yeaahh!" she panted as the old man's hand squeezed her soft tit. "Touch me! Mmmhh, you can touch me, I promise. Touch this body as much as you want!"

"Are you gonna let this old man mouth suck your titties? Take them out for me! I want to taste a pair of young tits!"

She obeyed, removing her sweater, and her firm, smooth breasts bounced out. The old man gasped in perverse pleasure and caressed the nipples between his rough fingers. Then, he brought his wrinkled lips in, licking the tit-skin, sucking in a nipple and grunting in ecstasy into the breast-flesh.

"Mmmphh, mmmphh, do you like it, slut?" he panted through his slurping. "Mmhh, you don't understand what you do to me. Mmmphh, your tits are so soft and hot. Mmhh, how about your cunt? Mmhhh, mmmhh, is it ready?"

"Ooohh fuuck," she panted. "I'll do whatever you want. Mmmhh, use me in any way you want!"

"Oohh, you're hot," he let out. "Show it! Mmmhh, show me the fuck hole! Show me what a slut you are!"

She started removing her jeans without a hint of hesitation, and then she pulled her panties down with the same enthusiasm. The young woman lay back and spread her silky-soft thighs wide, looking up with vulnerable eyes.

"Please!" she begged.

You couldn't tell if she was begging for mercy or cock. When you looked at Isac though, it was obvious what was going to get.

"Oohh, you're soaked!" he panted, transfixed by the cunt. "What a lovely young cunt! It's been so long since I felt a wet young cunt!"

He unbuckled his pants and pulled them down, and then he brought out his cock. It was wrinkled, even if it was reasonably erect. It was noticeably smaller than her father's. Isac climbed into bed and put the little organ against her entrance. All the time, he was massaging her breast flesh. His odeur was strong with mature sweat from the moist, gray-haired armpits.

"I can't believe this is happening," he confessed. "This is all I've dreamed for years, but I'm so old and you're so young. You deserve much better than this. This is the dirtiest thing I've ever done."

He tried reasoning with himself, or maybe he tried convincing her. Either way, he was squeezing her tit, and she agreed very strongly with everything he had to say. Finally, he lay down on top of her, bringing his old, wrinkled lips to her soft, full, youthful ones. He grunted while he probed his tongue out into her mouth, and she opened up to accept him.

"Uuhh, uuuhh," the old man grunted while he tasted the young mouth in a kiss, and he put his weight on the fresh body below.

He reached down to adjust his cock. It was still half-hard, which was about as hard as he usually got these days. It didn't matter. He was in place. All he had to do was hold himself right and push.

"It's good you're wet, so I can slide in easy even if I'm not all hard," he whispered into her ear.

The cock was small and soft, and she had some trouble feeling exactly when it entered her. She just realized he was already doing it when he started thrusting. He didn't seem to have any trouble feeling her though, because soon he was moaning in pleasure. He made the exact sounds you would expect from a dirty old pervert.

"Uunnh," he grunted right into her ear. "Uunhh, fuuck! Uuhhh, uuunhh, uunnhh... Fuuuck!"

He was too weak and frail to hold himself up, so he squashed her under his wrinkled body. She was trapped, but he didn't weigh enough to really hurt her. There simply was no option but to lie there, feeling his old groin thumping into her cunt flesh.