A Father's Love

Half the family didn't know it, but as we ate dessert that Saturday night in October, two of us were celebrating an anniversary. To my wife and son, it was simply a treat to have some fantastic chocolate cake with marshmallow icing from renowned local bakery La Bonbon Fille. To my beloved daughter Laura and I was the celebration: it had been one sugar-sweet week since she had lovingly used her mouth to please her first man to orgasm. I, naturally, was that very pleased man.

Sitting around the table, I am sure that we looked like the perfect, happy family. For my part, I could only concentrate on Laura. At 18, she was still a vibrant, naive girl. Her blue eyes were large and expressive and framed by her lovely chocolate brown hair which she almost always kept down. My daughter also had a subtle sense of humor: she was wearing a new pink and gray long sleeve shirt from Victoria's Secret. Over the dinner table she would look at me and smirk, knowing that only a week ago I had given her a pink bikini from the same store. I took pictures of her wearing it... and not wearing it. Our lovely, dirty secret. In the past week, with no real opportunity to be with her again, I had returned to those pictures a number of times over the week for my pleasure. Laura was a tall girl--5'8"--with long legs. She once had a thin body. Recently, however, puberty had come and with it had come her wonderful breasts and curves. She needed to wear a 38D-cup bra, though her fast-growing body meant that she still had some smaller bras. I took delight in seeing her spilling out of those. My daughter was also plump in her tummy, something that she was very self-conscious about.

My lustful gaze at my only daughter was broken by my wife speaking. "It's a great cake, hon. But I don't know why you got so much! We're all trying to cut down on the sweets." Her eyes jumped to Laura and back--she didn't mean "we," she meant "Laura."

I smiled at my wife, but let a bit of authority creep into my voice. "Everyone deserves a little treat now and then. Anyone want more?" Laura's eyes snapped up, and I felt satisfaction. "Laura, how about you?" I asked as I cut another piece. She blushed and smiled and stammered, ultimately saying yes. After all, why would she say no to me?

After dessert was finished, I declared that I had some important work to do in my basement home office. My wife and daughter started to clear the table; when my wife stepped into the kitchen, I held Laura back a moment. "When everyone is asleep, see me. I have another present for you."

I didn't wait for her response, instead heading to the basement with a half-filled bottle of whiskey.

I did indeed have work to do, but as my wife settled into her nighttime routines and my son prepared to go out for a bit, I drank more and worked less. I grew impatient and frustrated that Laura was not downstairs--this despite the fact that she was following the directions that I gave her. I kept fiddling with the brown paper bag at my desk. It held the latest silken, sinful gift for her--and she wasn't downstairs for it!

I was in the middle of another glass--the bottle was looking low--when at long last I heard the basement door open. I glanced at the clock: 11:51. Still our anniversary. I heard Laura walking down the stairs. She walked slowly, and when she turned the corner I knew why.

She was wearing her white high heels, having clearly remembered the discussion last Saturday about her rear end looking so much better in them. In addition to the heels, she was wearing her normal bedtime attire: silk shorts, this time blue, and an old, frayed yellow tank top. Her clothing was not meant to wow the viewer, but I nonetheless found her soft body most appealing. The fact that her nipples were very clearly hard beneath the think tank top helped as well.

"You are late," I said pointedly.

She looked slightly shocked and confused. "But Jason just went out and Mom just went to bed... you said to come down--"

"Yes, yes, whatever," I answered dismissively. "We only have a little bit of time left to today, and I bought you something." I smiled. "Another present."

Laura's confusion melted into genuine appreciation. "Awww, that's so sweet Daddy! Is it another bathing suit?"

I laughed softly. "No, not a bathing suit. Here, take a look." I handed her the brown paper shopping bag. "I'm sorry it isn't in a gift bag. I had to keep it in something that wouldn't catch your mother's eye."

With the mention of her mother, Laura paused for just a moment. I couldn't tell if she was feeling guilty or not. Either way, when she took hold of the bag the feeling clearly passed. Out of the bag she took a pile of sheer, green sea-foam material. Holding it up, my daughter smiled: it was a thin lace babydoll with garters. Out of it fell matching bottoms and a pair of black stockings.

"Oh, Daddy, it's just beautiful! Thank you so much!" She came to me in my chair and hugged me joyfully, her smile ear to ear. She kissed my cheek and started to back up.

"Laura..." I said, my voice filled with a control that belayed my drunken state. "That's how you kiss me in front of people. Come back. Sit on the arm of the chair." Her babydoll still in hand, she returned and sat. I put my hands on her soft cheeks, staring into those deep, lovely blue eyes. Softly, I said, "This is how you kiss me when we are alone." I pulled her to me, and our mouths met. Her lips were soft and full and moist, and I could feel her body relax against mine. I kissed softly across her cheek, then down it. I planted wet, slow, tongue-flicked kisses where her neck met her collarbone, and her body involuntarily tensed up in a most delicious manner. I held her close to me, continuing.

My daughter let out a breath she didn't know she was holding. "God, Daddy..." she softly cooed.

I pulled my head back, smiling warmly at her. "Now go in the other room and put on your lovely present. That's a good girl."

She stood and said, "Yes Daddy." Her eyes flicked to the small windows at the top of the wall across from my desk. Being in the basement and behind shrubs on the outside, these windows didn't let anyone see in or out. But they were useful in letting approaching headlights shine through as someone parked in the driveway. "I guess I'll hurry? I don't know how long Jason will be gone."

I felt anger, a whiskey-fueled anger, start to bubble in my stomach. I didn't care when my son would be home--I wanted to see my daughter in that babydoll. Now. "Go put on your present." It didn't come out of my mouth kindly and I didn't care.

Wordlessly, Laura turned around and went into the other room. A few minutes passed, and she was a sight to behold when she reappeared. I had bought the largest size Victoria's Secret had, a 36C, but my daughter's large, 38D chest strained lusciously against the top. The tight babydoll was snug around the middle of her tummy to be sure, but Laura knew not to fold her arms to hide it. A bit of shame burned on her face because of it. Lower still, the matching thong appeared like a haze through the babydoll. That view, along with the sheer black stockings and the slightly mismatched white high heels, almost took my breath away. She was a gorgeous sight.

"Come here, come closer." She did, her beautiful breasts jiggling as she came forward. "Turn around. I want to see that ass of yours."

She obliged, bending over slightly. From where I sat, the bottom edge of the babydoll was lifted just enough for me to have an unobstructed view of her thong as it disappeared and reappeared between the cheeks of her butt. I reached out, my palm slowly tracing what was in front of me. I loved seeing my daughter's ass.

"Daddy..?" I heard Laura softly say in a voice that was high and sweet.

"Yes, Marshmallow?"

She turned around, a proud smile on her face. "I didn't get you anything... but I'd like to give you something."

"What do you mean?" I knew exactly what she meant.

"I... you know, could do what you taught me last time." Her eyes looked down to my crotch for a moment, then she knelt down in front of me.

"I have taught you many things in your little life, Laura. Tell me what you mean."

Laura looked a bit flummoxed, but recognized that she was being toyed with. She spoke, and with each word lust flooded her voice more and more. "I want to put my mouth on your cock, Daddy. I want to suck it and make it explode in my mouth and I want to swallow it."

Can a father hear more wonderful words from the lips of his daughter? I was tempted to say yes then and there, but I had something else in mind. I was, after all, her father and I wanted her to grow as a girl. I wanted her to add to her sexual repertoire.

"We'll do that soon enough, Marshmallow. But not tonight." She looked a little downtrodden, and I felt a shiver of pride. How wonderful to see that after giving her first blow job only a week ago, she was the sort of girl who craved more of it. Added to it was that she had no idea how good at it she was, nor what it could get her down the line. I continued. "We're doing to do something else, something new. A new way to please your daddy." Her face brightened, and I knew we were both excited.

She must have heard something outside, because she glanced at the high windows, then back to me. "I thought someone..." her voice trailed off. She realized she had interrupted things for no reason. "Sorry, Daddy."

I didn't much care. "Come here. Crawl here." Like an animal, a low and filthy animal, her body slinked to me. My eyes crawled all over every curve, loving that the babydoll had a wonderful way of showing off the flare of her hips and the pout of her breasts just as well as it showed off the chubby points on her side as well. The lingerie highlighted my daughter's body, and I loved it. Then two simple words: "Unzip me."

I heard her breathe in, and the breath was shaky. She was nervous, and I had to remind myself that this was only our third time being intimate. As natural as she was with her mouth, she was still a sexual novice and she knew it. I had to help her take my penis out through my underwear, but then it was out, hard and erect. My daughter was unsure what to do next. She looked up at me with questions in her beautiful eyes--questions and eagerness.

I knew it was not obvious what I wanted, but I spoke to her like she should know better. It felt both wrong and right to speak to her like she was stupid. "I want you to use your hand, Laura. Just your hand to jerk me off."

She looked slightly shocked with the last sentence, probably because it sounded so crass. Her hand reached out, and she lightly touched the head, clear precum sticking to her fingers. She played with it for a moment, swirling it around. Then she lightly ran the palm of her hand over the head of my penis, making me shiver. She looked up with pride and a small sense of triumph. She spread her palm around for a moment, then proceeded to close her hand around my cock and start to slowly move it up and down. I groaned in enjoyment and closed my eyes.

Laura proceeded for a few moments, then suddenly stopped. I opened my eyes to see hers not looking at my penis, or at me at all. Instead, she was again nervously looking at those windows. She froze for a moment, then looked at me.

"I'm sorry Daddy. I'm just nervous that Jason will come home and see us or something."

"Laura," I said impatiently, the whiskey in my veins not letting me be tactful, "when you're pleasing a man, don't stop, alright?" She looked hurt, but I didn't care. "Now don't be stupid, and keep jerking me off, alright?" I closed my eyes again, and in a moment she began again. Her hand was soft and slick from my precum, and she was going slow enough to be deliciously teasing. Her grip was also becoming slowly tighter and more confident. The job she was doing was really quite remarka--

She stopped, this time due to the lights of a passing--but definitely not stopping--car. "Laura!" I whisper-hissed. "What the fuck is wrong with you?"

"Daddy, I thought--"

"Shush! Be quiet and listen to me: Do. Not. Stop."

It took bravery and gumption for her to still plead her case. "I thought I saw Jason coming home!"

"You know what?" My hand lashed out, not at her face, but the brown paper grocery bag that had held her babydoll. "I'll make sure you don't fucking look!"

A moment later, I wasn't sure how I felt. She looked pathetic, kneeling before me, her body on display from the tight babydoll, her nipples clearly hard and her breasts threatening to spill out... and the brown paper bag over her head. Pathetic, but it made my blood boil with desire for her.

How would she react, though? This clearly was unkind treatment. Laura spoke with a shaky, upset voice. "D-d-daddy?" Perhaps this was it: perhaps she had decided that it wasn't worth the trouble, and--"I'm sorry Daddy. Thank you for...." She paused, sniffling. "Thank you for making me a better girl. Can I keep pleasing you?"

My daughter didn't wait for a response; her head still covered by the bag, she put her hand out and found my penis. She had little of the clumsiness that many girls seem to have the first few times they touch a man. Her soft hand slowly jerked the top half of the shaft, occasionally dipping lower. Her fingertips brushed against the head, and the top of her palm had constant contact with my underside.

Not only was she doing a wonderful job, but seeing her was an almost regretfully erotic sight. The bag on her head looked so cruel, but it hadn't stopped her--rather, it seemed to be spurring her on. She was half bent over, resting on her knees, with her right hand on my chair, keeping herself steady. Her large breasts swayed slightly as her hand moved on me, and I took delight in the fact that this debased, confused, obedient girl had rock hard nipples.

And now I realized that I was getting close. The haze of whiskey had already been disappearing, but it was something I could control; with the fog of a building orgasm, I felt myself slipping away. "Yes... keep going, Marshmallow..." I quietly whispered. Her hand was going fast now, up and down my entire shaft, the slick sound of her fingers the only noise in the room. I felt myself being pushed back in the chair, and said, "Yes baby, my darling baby...." Her hand became tighter, my eyes closed, I grunted and...

My cock exploded all over my daughter's hand, semen spurting out and oozing down her fingers and over the back of her hand, down my shaft. My bright, darling daughter somehow knew not to move her hand--she just held me, tightly, and it was wonderful.

I opened my eyes. "God, Laura... that was amazing. Look at this mess!"

There was an uncomfortable pause, then she said, "Um, Daddy, I can't see. You put this bag over my head."

Had she been able to see me, she would have seen a cruel smile come across my face. I loved how obedient she was becoming, but was glad that she still had a little spirit in her--that she felt comfortable enough with me to speak her mind. I spoke, unable to kind a touch of loving condescension in my voice. "Well, the bag needs to stay on your head until we are completely done." I saw her crook her head a bit, wondering what more could go on once that she had gotten her father to cum. "A girl should never leave a mess. She should take pride in leaving things clean, whether it's the dinner table or the living room... or her hand. And don't even think about using your babydoll to clean up. I want you to wear it to church tomorrow."

Laura paused for a moment, slightly moving her sticky hand. Then my heart filled with pride, because she was just smart enough to come up with a solution by herself: she slowly pulled her hand under the bag and to her face. I could hear my daughter softly licking and sucking my semen off of her hand. I took delight in seeing her throat swallow.

Oh, how the love for my daughter was growing. I looked forward to our visit to church tomorrow. The plans I had....