I think all girls have a secret desire to make love to their father. I knew I was one. My mother died when I was very young. (I would tell you how she died, but, since that's still a very sensitive subject for me, I won't.) Overnight, my father became a single parent, and I became his whole world and he mine. I couldn't have asked for a more loving and attentive father. I never went without as he would sometimes work two and three jobs just so I wouldn't go without. Daddy sacrificed everything for me. He stopped hanging out with his friends. He never even dated again after my mother passed away. At first I attributed this to the fact that he loved my mother very much, which he did, and that he was still heartbroken over her sudden death, which he was. Sometimes I felt guilty that Daddy was so alone. I knew he would never blame me for anything, but I wasn't naive enough to not realize a man has needs. And I also knew that somehow, someway, that I his daughter would have to find a way to satisfy those needs.
As I have said, Daddy was everything to me. I would sometimes gaze at him adoringly when he wasn't looking. I've always thought my father a quite handsome man with his chiseled features and muscular build, which I attributed to all those years working construction and various other forms of manual labor. His hands were big and calloused from all those years of working manual labor, but they were always soft and gentle whenever he would hug me. Sometimes I caught myself holding on to him a little longer than maybe I should have as I took in his manly scent of Old Spice and peppermint. And more than once I would get a strong tingling sensation between my legs whenever he would hold me or I would snuggle up to him next on the couch while he was watching football, his favorite sport. Simply put, my father was a god to me. And, I don't mean to sound conceited or anything, but I knew he worshipped the ground I walked on. But I didn't know just how strong his feelings were for me until one time when I made what I fondly refer to as my special discovery.
It was one afternoon when I had come home from school. I was 18 and was about to graduate from high school where I had planned to head off for college (to study what, I hadn't decided). I knew Daddy was already home from work since his truck was parked in the driveway. Sometimes he came home from work a little early, so I wasn't alarmed when I saw his truck parked in front of the house. I was alarmed, however, by the sound of moaning that seemed to be coming from his bedroom. I thought that maybe he had hurt himself on the job as he sometimes did and was in some kind of pain. Worried, I dropped my book bag on the floor of the living room and hurried to his bedroom to see if he needed my help. I soon discovered, howerver, that I was "helping" my father in a most unexpected way.
Since Daddy didn't like me just barging into his room unannounced, I slowly opened the door to his room just a crack and was about to call out for him. As you might imagine, the moaning got louder the closer I got to his room. And I quickly discovered why when I made my special discovery. Daddy was sitting in front of his desk, his head tilted back and his mouth was slighly open. I gazed down and my own mouth fell open when I saw what he was holding tightly in his big bear hand: his erect penis. I touched my chest and was about to suck in a quick breath, but I quickly stopped myself since I didn't want Daddy to notice me crouching behind his door and seeing what he was doing to himself.
I knew what Daddy was doing to himself even though I myself was not sexually experienced as I hadn't even yet been so much as been kissed by a boy. Simply put, I was still a virgin. About the only sexual experience I had was whenever I touched myself at night as I laid alone in bed, and that was pretty much it. I had overheard some boys at school talking about "playing with themselves" but I didn't know exactly what they meant until seeing my own father "playing" with himself.
I knew I should have just walked away since a daughter is not supposed to see her father like this, but I just stood there mesmerized by the sight of Daddy with his penis in hand furiously stroking himself to orgasm (and, yes, I knew what that was, too, even though that was yet another sexual experience I had yet to discover for myself). Up to that point, the only penises I had seen were on the Internet (hey, a girl can be curious!). But seeing a real live one was a totally different experience. And the fact that Daddy's penis was considerably bigger than those I had seen on the Internet made me all the more transfixed.
As I stood there watching Daddy handling himself in that manner, I couldn't help but notice how he kept glancing over at the top of his desk. I myself glanced over to see what he kept looking at and was shocked to discover a picture of me in a one-piece red bikini that Daddy had taken of me when we went to the beach on one of our typical father-daughter outings just a few weeks ago. (I wanted to wear a two-piece bikini, but, being the stern loving father he was, Daddy wouldn't allow it for what I think were obvious reasons.)
Daddy was pleasuring himself to a picture of me!
As the initial shock wore off, I started to feel a little, well, flattered that my father found me, his little girl, attractive enough to pleasure himself to. Now there are some people who would probably say at this point I should have been outraged that my father was looking at me in this way, but, the simple truth of the matter was, I wasn't. In fact, not only was I not outraged in the slightest by what my father was doing with my bikini-clad picture, I felt those familiar tingling sensations come back between my legs full-force. I crouched down behind his door until my butt was nearly touching the floor and spread my legs a little so I could reach down and rub myself a little over the dress I was wearing. (Daddy also didn't allow me to wear skirts for what I again think were obvious reasons.)
I started rubbing myself harder and faster as Daddy increased the speed of his own fisting. I quickly lifted my dress and slipped my hand inside my dampening panties and touched my hard throbbing clitty with the tip of my forefinger. I quickly stifled a loud moan that was about to escape my lips since the last thing I wanted to do was shock Daddy that his little girl was watching him get himself off to my picture. I knew Daddy was about to climax as he gripped the arm rest of his chair harder and fisted himself even faster. I, too, felt myself about to come as I was frantically rubbing my little clitty with my fingertip with my mouth close tight so Daddy wouldn't still hear me. All of a sudden Daddy threw his head back and let out a long drawn-out moan as white stuff spurted out of the tip of his big penis over and over several times. (For the record, I knew what the "white stuff" was since they taught about all that stuff in Health class in school, so I guess maybe I wasn't that sexually inexperienced after all!)
I slipped a finger inside of me and climaxed myself as I watched Daddy come all over his big strong hand. This time I didn't stop myself from moaning and I fell face-forward into Daddy's room. To say Daddy was shocked to see me there, especially in the, let's say, condition we were both in would have been a severe understatement.
"H-honey," he stammered, trying in vain to cover himself with his other hand. "W-what are you doing in here?" It was then that he noticed my dress hiked up and my hand still buried down inside my drenched panties. "And what in the world are you doing with your hand down," he paused as if he couldn't allow himself to admit that his own daughter, his little girl, played with herself too, "down there like that?"
"Funny, Daddy," I said with a naughty grin, "I could ask you the exact same thing!"
"Young lady!" he blurted, sitting up in his chair with his hand still around his still-erect penis. "You shouldn't talk to your father like that!"
I stood up, still grinning at him, and said something I wouldn't have normally said to him:
"And some would say you shouldn't be masturbating to pictures of your own daughter."
I pointed at the bikini-clad picture of me sitting on his desk. Daddy glanced at the photo and his face flushed a bright red. I giggled at the sight of his embarrassment, which was something else I normally would not have done to him. I don't know what was coming over me as this was not like me to act in such a flirty way, especially not with my own father. It was right there standing in my father's room that I came to the realization that I was in love with my father. Subconsciously, I probably knew this, but I wouldn't allow myself to admit this since society conditions us not to have these type of feelings for those who are the closest and dearest to us. But standing there in Daddy's bedroom after seeing Daddy pleasure himself to my own picture and realizing that I had these kind of feelings, sexual feelings, for him and he apparently for me, I say society be damned!
I strode over to where Daddy was sitting. He didn't take his eyes off of me as I stood before him and leaned back against his desk. I reached behind me and grabbed my photo and gazed down at it. I gazed back at him and grinned at him again.
"So, Daddy," I said as seductively as I could, "you must really like this picture of me, huh?"
My eyes trailed down to his penis that he was still gripping in his hand. He said nothing as he just sat there staring at me with his mouth hanging open again. That is, until I reached down and lightly touched the tip of his wet penis with the tip of my forefinger. He jumped back in his chair and glared at me like I was one sick little puppy in spite of what he just got through doing with his little girl's picture.
"W-what are you doing?" he stammered at me again.
I reached down again and dipped my finger into the hole of his penis that was still dripping with his white hot come.
"D-don't," he tried to say as sternly as he could. But I didn't remove my finger. Instead, I rolled my finger around the tip of his cock, making my finger wet in the process.
"S-stop," he said even more weakly. "P-please stop. I'm," he paused, "your father."