A Daughters Love Ch 01

I guess it started when my wife died. That left me alone with my daughter, Misty. I tried my best to be strong for my daughter, but I was deeply, deeply depressed in reality.

That lasted for about a year. Then Misty moved out. She had turned eighteen and I think she needed to get away from my dark moods. I really fell apart then. Misty would come and visit me and she could see I had taken a huge turn for the worse. I think she must have felt guilty about moving out even though I didn't want her to feel that way.

Sometimes she would do my dishes or laundry and clean up around me. She would always try to cheer me up. She would play happy music on the radio and tell me funny things that had happened to her, trying to get me to laugh. But, I couldn't be helped. My heart wouldn't budge. It wasn't her fault. Sometimes she would get fed up and spend weeks away, but eventually, she always came back to check on me. She loved me even though I couldn't seem to love her back at that point in my life.

One day she came over and she let herself in when I failed to get up and open the door for her. It was about four in the afternoon, but I was in bed, drifting in and out of sleep. I was in the blackest of moods. My depression was so severe I couldn't move. I was paralyzed. I heard my daughter knocking, but I couldn't respond mentally, emotionally or physically.

I was half asleep, dreaming of my dead wife again, but heard Misty walk down the hall. I was half in my dream and half in my waking reality. Somehow I knew I was dreaming and was aware of what I was hearing at the same time, but I couldn't move. Misty's steps were tentative, almost fearful. Maybe she was afraid she would find me dead, I don't know. "Daddy?" came her soft girlish voice, trembling.

My back was to the open door, but I heard her steps reach the door and stop. She must have must have been watching me breathing. She didn't say anything at first, and then she repeated, "Dad? Victor?" but softer this time as if she wasn't expecting a reply.

I felt dead. I didn't reply. I didn't turn to look. I just lay there, unmoving. The dream of my wife was slipping away with the realization that it was just a dream and with that came the stark realization that she was dead, like I was experiencing her death all over again. There were no more thoughts of grief or anger or loss; there was only my black dead heart. I should have felt something for my daughter, but instead it was as if she wasn't there at all.

It so happened, in that moment, my dick was hard. It was just one of those hard-ons you get on awakening even though you don't remember any erotic dreams and you're not really thinking about sex, but you're hard anyway for no apparent reason. I should have been alarmed, but I wasn't even thinking about it. In that moment, I had no thoughts for my daughter or what she might feel.

I still didn't move when she climbed onto the bed behind me. She lay down on top of the blanket that was over me. I felt her slide up to my back, her abdomen, her soft little breasts, against my back, her knees against my thighs, spooning with me. She wrapped her arm around me with her hand against my stomach near my hard-on. "I love you Daddy," she whispered in my ear. "I want you to be happy again."

A decent man would have done something, but I didn't. I wasn't a decent man anymore. I was completely possessed by my self pity and self loathing. I ignored my daughter.

We lay there for I don't know how long, the warmth of her lithe body against mine, a blanket in between us, feeling each others' breathing.

"I would do anything to make you happy again," she whispered after a time.

Still I did not move or respond. I knew there was nothing she could do to bring my wife back. Nothing else mattered to me at that point in my life.

Then, she shifted her hand and her fingers brushed against the protrusion in the blanket caused by my erection. She brushed her fingers against it a second time as if she wasn't sure what she was feeling, then she felt it's shape through the blanket by running her fingers along its length. She drew her hand back instantly. "Oh, Dad!" she exclaimed, startled.

I felt her body move back from mine, but she was still on the bed. "Dad? Is that . . . is that your . . . penis?" she inquired, the word "penis" came out of her mouth awkwardly like she was trying to pronounce a strange word from a foreign language. "What's going on?" she asked with a hint of alarm, her voice stronger now, but still trembling with emotion.

"Dad?" she asked simply when I didn't respond. I felt her sit up to get a better view of my front side. Maybe she wasn't convinced it was really my penis because she reached around me again and flicked my hard dick with her finger. But still there must have been doubt against the obvious fact of it, because she wrapped her fingers around the blanket covering my penis feeling the shape of it. I felt my daughter's hand squeeze around me then, feeling my hardness. My penis twitched involuntarily in her grasp. "Ew!" she jerked back like she'd touched a poison viper, "you're hard!"

Finally, I was shocked out of my stupor. My dream was forgotten, replaced by shame and anger at myself for not stopping my daughter before she touched me. There was also fear, fear of what she would think of me. But undeniably, there was another feeling, maybe even stronger than my other feelings—the sexual shock of her touch. It had been such a long time since I had felt it, pleasure and excitement; no matter that it was my daughter's hand on me.

After a pause, she tried, "Dad, are you awake?" She shook me gently at my shoulder. I rolled on my back and looked at my daughter through half open eyes. Now on my back, my erection stood straight up, obscenely tenting the blanket over me.

"Dad, are you okay? I was worried about you." She was speaking to me, but I saw that her attention was on the tall tent pole under the blanket.

"I'm sorry Misty, I've just been so sad. I miss her so much."

She looked up at me then. "Oh Dad!" sadness was in her eyes. She lay down next to me, her head on my shoulder and her arm across my chest, "I miss her too."

"I'm so sorry I haven't been there for you Misty."

"Don't be sorry Dad. I love you. I just want you to be happy again. I wish I could make you happy."

"I wish I knew how to be happy again. I'm so sorry you had to see me like this." I felt useless and helpless in that moment. There I was with the most obscene erection, but feeling too paralyzed with depression to do anything about it while my 18 year old daughter hugged me pityingly.

"It's okay Dad, it's not your fault. I shouldn't have lay in bed with you. I should have known better, but I just wanted to hug you and make you feel good again. I didn't think. I guess it's been a long time since you've had a woman in bed with you. No wonder you're hard as a rock. It's my fault."

I shook my head at her, but I couldn't speak. I wanted to tell her it had nothing to do with her, that sometimes I just have an erection when I'm sleeping, but I didn't know how to say it to my daughter. The sadness in her eyes, in her voice, moved me and I began to tear up.

Her arm around my chest tightened. "Don't worry Daddy," she whispered, "I won't let anything come between us."

I stroked her long hair with my hand, her head resting softly on my shoulder.

"Daddy?"

"Yes?"

"Do I remind you of Mom?"

"Sometimes Honey."

"I want to be Mom for you. Please let me do that for you." There was both sadness and determination in her voice.

Guessing at what she meant, I shook my head, but it made no difference, her hand slipped under the blanket and down my abdomen until she found the base of my cock. Her soft fingers on my sex felt intensely pleasurable, like a first drink after a long sobriety. It also felt reassuring. It may be hard to understand, but my daughter reaching down of her own accord to touch my dick made feel whole again, loved and cared for. I know it was selfish, but I couldn't muster the strength of will needed to stop her. It simply felt too good.

"I made you so hard, I had no idea you felt that way." Her face was furrowed with tension. She was holding back revulsion, forcing herself to do something against her nature, just as one might expect from a woman stroking her father's erection.

I wanted to explain that I wasn't hard because of her, but now that she was touching me, she actually was arousing me, more and more. Her hand felt up my column slowly. It had been so long for me, the pleasure was intense.

Tears were flooding Misty's eyes. Her hand began to jerk up and down my dick, moving robotically, forced.

I pulled the blanket off so I could watch my daughter's hand on my dick, but this seemed to upset her more. She started making a whining noise in time with her strokes on my dick. Tears began to run down her cheeks.

"Sweetie, you're hurting me, you're grasping too tight. Loosen your grip a little," I asked.

"Okay Daddy." When she softened her grip, I noticed her hand was trembling. The whining continued as before.

"Sweetie, you're hand is a little dry. Maybe you could rub your hand over the tip of my penis—to get it slippery?"

"Okay Daddy." The tears were streaming down her face now. Her mouth was an inverted "U," her lips trembling. I watched as she rubbed her palm around my head, wetting it with my precum.

"That's good sweetie, now try stroking again."

She obeyed with a whimper, her hand slipping wetly on my erection, but still trembling.

"Maybe just a little faster honey."

Suddenly, Misty's whimpering erupted into uncontrolled sobbing. In between long intakes of breath, she blurted, "I can't Daddy . . . I can't do this . . . Oh God . . . I'm sorry Daddy." Tears streamed. Thin clear liquid ran from her nose into her mouth. I hadn't seen her cry like that since she was a little girl. She stopped stroking me and her grip tightened around the base of my erection.

"Oh Sweetie," I paused, trying to think of what to say to comfort her. I continued, rather lamely I think, "you were doing really good job. You were really making me feel good, Sweetie, really good. I am really lucky to have you for a daughter. I mean, how many daughters would do that for their dad?"

Her sobbing stopped. The corners of her mouth twitched upward, trying to smile. "You're so depressed, Dad, it makes me feel really really sad. I just want you to be happy again."

"You're helping Misty, you really are. You almost made me cum, sweetie. I probably would have cum if you didn't stop."

"Oh, I'm sorry Dad." She looked down at my dick contemplatively, where it throbbed hotly in her grip.

"Daddy?"

"Yes, sweetie?"

"Would you like it if I put your penis in my mouth?"

I almost had an orgasm on hearing her question, but I tried to dampen my response, "Uh, sure . . . yes, that would be nice Sweetie, but only if you want to, of course."

"I want to Daddy. I want to do it for you, just like Mom used to."

"Okay Sweetie, I would like that." I chose not to tell her that her mother never liked to give me blow jobs. I didn't want to spoil it for her—it seemed to mean so much to her to be able to do this for me.

I watched as my daughter bent over my erection and stuck her tongue out. She touched the tip of her tongue to the tip of my dick. Her breath felt hot on my wet dick. The look on her face was of repulsion, like she might have been eating a cockroach, but, in spite of this, she swirled her tongue in the precum on the head of my dick. Cautiously, her tongue licked lower and lower down my hard shaft.

The pleasure I felt in that moment shocked me and drew me out of myself. I had completely forgotten about my sorrow. There was something about that first moment of permitting my daughter to do it that added a level of erotic excitement that I had never experienced before. The wetness of my daughter's tongue slipping around and around my dick was unexpectedly blissful to me.

She opened her mouth wide over my dick, ready to wrap her lips around me, but she didn't. Instead, she hovered there, with her eyes tightly shut. She started making a whimpering sound again, as saliva dripped from her mouth onto my waiting member.

I guessed that she was experiencing some mixed feelings about the prospect of sucking on her father's dick. At first, I thought maybe I should stop her and release her from the idea of it. But, I didn't. Perhaps I couldn't. I was already too taken by this new sexual thrill—the thrill of my own daughter pleasuring me with her mouth. It was so terribly wrong, but at the same time it was the most erotic thing imaginable. Instead of doing the responsible thing, I gave what I thought were words of encouragement, as if it were the fatherly thing to do. "You shouldn't stop now, Misty, you were doing such a good job," I told her.

That wasn't enough though. She still whimpered with her mouth twitching over my dick like she was trying to close her lips around me, but some unseen force held her back.

So, I tried a different track. "Misty," I said, "you are unbelievable. You are beautiful and you are turning me on like I've never been turned on before. Your mouth looks really sexy right now."

I guess that was the wrong thing to say because she started sobbing again. Maybe daughters don't want to hear how much their fathers are turned on by them, but I didn't think of that until after the words came out of my mouth. Tears and saliva and snot ran from her face onto my dick as she took in gasps of air and let out long melodramatic sobs over me. All the time holding her mouth open, as if ready to accept my hard dick.

It was more than I could bear, not her crying, but my sexual anticipation. I felt horribly selfish, but it didn't stop me from what I was about to do. I very slowly raised my hips so that the head of my dick rose to meet my daughter's open mouth. I let out a sigh of pleasure when I felt the soft moist flesh of her mouth on me.

Misty gave out a long mournful whine, but it was muffled by my dick in her mouth. She didn't pull away though; she held her mouth dutifully around my dick, her lips quivering, various liquids running from her face and mouth down my hard shaft.

Very gently, I moved up and down in her slack mouth, caressing her lips and tongue and teeth with my swollen member. She did nothing to stop me, but continued her muffled whining, her eyes squeezed shut.

I began to move faster, increasing my strokes a little further into her mouth. It was very wet and slippery. I tried to avoid her teeth. She kept her mouth opened for me, but otherwise did nothing to take part in it. The erotic pleasure of rubbing my dick in my daughter's mouth was overwhelming. It was a very guilty sort of pleasure, of course, but that just made it all the more irresistible. I'm going to cum in my own daughter's mouth, I kept thinking to myself, convincing myself that I wasn't in a dream. At the same time, it touched me deeply that my daughter, against her every instinct, would willingly offer her mouth to me for my ultimate pleasure. I knew then how profoundly she loved me.

It was with this fusion of intense love and excitement that I started to thrust harder and faster into my daughter's open mouth. My dick slipped wetly on her lips and tongue on a sheen of snot and saliva and precum. Her whimpering moans were interrupted by rhythmic gags as my cock began to jam into the back of her throat repeatedly. The whole while, she obediently held her head in place and her mouth open for me.

Her willingness excited me ever more and I realized that I was ramming my cock even harder, knocking her head back with every thrust as she gagged again and again. I felt like I was abusing her as I watched myself, but I couldn't stop, and she held fast, courageously, I thought.

I fucked my daughter's open mouth with a sexual fervor I had never experienced before, ramming into her inviting mouth over and over with uninhibited abandon until I finally, mercifully, came to climax. I thrust hard, one last time, shoving my cock into her throat and held it there as I had a massive orgasm, my cum spurting into her many times over while she gagged and gurgled trying to accommodate the sexual explosion in her throat.

I sighed with pleasure and relief, pulling my dick slowly out of my daughter's mouth. A sticky syrup of cum, saliva, snot and tears flowed from her mouth, drooling down her chin and down my cock.

She opened her eyes wide, staring at me with a look that can only be described as horror. Tears continued to run. Her mouth was still open in the shape of an "O" like she was trying to scream, even though no sound emerged. A pool of cum still covered her tongue at the bottom of her mouth.

In an attempt to talk her out of her apparent shock and dismay, I told her in the cheeriest tone I could muster, "I don't even know how to thank you Misty. That was wonderful. I can't even describe how wonderful."

She continued to stare pleadingly, for what, I don't know, maybe reassurance. She closed her mouth slowly, grimacing. Instead of swallowing, she let my cum ooze out between her lips, running down her chin and neck. Her face tightened, contorted, trying to hold back more sobbing perhaps, the tears were running heavily.

"You know, it's okay to swallow it if you want. It won't hurt you. It's just my sperm. I don't have any diseases."

Misty swallowed loudly. She shuddered and, with a sob, leaped off the bed, running to the bathroom. I heard her retching and spitting, followed by more sobbing. Then, there was the sound of her feet running toward the front door.

"Misty!" I called after her, but it was too late, the front door slammed.

My dick was still hard so I couldn't very well run outside after her. I didn't want to scare my neighbors after all. So, I stayed in bed, staring at the ceiling, trying to understand what had just happened, what I had just done to my daughter. I hoped she would be okay and get over it. For my part, I was in some kind of sexual nirvana having just experienced the most intense orgasm of my life with the person I would have least suspected of providing it.