This story is completely fictional. If you are easily offended by incestuous relationships then please do not read- find another story! All characters are fictional and any likeness to any living person is purely coincidental. The story is purely imaginary and, to the my knowledge, bears no relationship to any factual occurrence.
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My story, dear reader, starts a few months ago when I came home from university for my summer vacation with my father. My father's name is John and he's a professional freelance photographer. But, before I tell you my story, a little more about myself and my immediate family.
My name is Becci, I'm 21 and studying English and History at a university in England. I'm quite a pretty girl, even if I say so myself. I'm of average height with long blonde hair, blue eyes and a good looking trim figure with 32B boobs. I get my looks from my mother and my brains from my father. I have two brothers both older than me who have flown the 'family nest' - if you can call it a nest! My mother destroyed our nest on my fifteenth birthday when she went to live with her lover in Manchester leaving my father devastated and virtually a broken man. At this time my father had me going through the latter stages of puberty and important school exams and my two siblings going away to university. Although he has quite a good job it was difficult for him to look after us all, but he did his very best both morally and financially, and for that I will be eternally grateful to him. It's funny, because I think the difficulties and the hardships he endured to care for us all actually bonded us into a more solid family unit.
It had been a difficult year at university and I was pleased when my father agreed to come and collect me to take me home for my summer holiday. When I saw him arriving in his Ford Estate I ran over and threw myself into his arms and gave him a hug and a kiss which I think embarrassed him in front of some of the other graduates. He might have been embarrassed but he certainly held me tight - tighter and closer than I ever remember him doing before.
He whispered in my ear, "Oh Becci! I've missed you so much these last few months. It's so nice to see you again."
"And I've missed you Daddy," I replied hugging him even tighter. I sensed that there was something 'not quite right' with Daddy compared with the other times he had come to pick me up. He broke the hug and kissed me on the cheek as he held my arms down by my side. I noticed as I looked at him that his eyes had a tear or two in them. I've never seen Daddy this way before: he was always strong. Always there for me. He was my rock! When I was younger he had cuddled and tended me when I hurt myself, and when my first boyfriend ditched me for my best friend he was there again to pick up the pieces. No, this was a different Daddy: a Daddy that I didn't know and a Daddy that I was determined to help.
While I was saying goodbye to all my friends Daddy loaded the car with all my luggage including carrier bags, cardboard boxes, laptop and books and then came round and opened the door for me to get in the passenger seat. As I went to get in he bowed and waved his hand towards the car and said, "My Lady. Your carriage awaits." A little enough gesture but my heart filled up with pride to think that my father was acknowledging me as a 'lady' and not a daughter or just a young girl. "Thank you driver," I said with a smile as I took my seat in the car.
We drove down the motorway discussing just general tit bits - about my year in university and my exams and how his job in photography was going. Also about the time Aunty Pam came visiting him a couple of weeks ago and how she ran my mother down into the pits of hell! Although Aunty Pam was my mother's sister she had no time for my mother! "That little hussy deserves everything she gets," was her comment on the situation. I think deep down my aunt had a soft spot for my Daddy.
Every now and then as we drove the long way home, my father would put his hand on my knee, squeeze it and say, "It really is nice to have you back. I have missed you so much these last few months." In return I would place my hand on top of his hand, squeeze it and say, "It's nice to be home again, Daddy." The feel of his hand on my knee, especially when he squeezed it, would send a shudder up my thighs until it reached my love chamber where a little love juice was released in anticipation of more stimulations.
After a couple of hours driving we stopped at the motorway services for something to eat and some fuel. Daddy, as usual, complained about the prices and how anyone who goes to those places are being ripped off because they are a 'captive audience'. But the break was welcomed as was the food and the refreshments.
We arrived home at about 8:30 in the evening. It was still light and the house and garden looked immaculate - just the way my father always kept it. "You go in Becci and put the kettle on for a cup of tea while I offload the car. There's fresh milk in the fridge." I don't know if he saw the disappointment on my face but he suddenly added, "Or there's a few cans of lager if you prefer." I think the smile on my face told him what my preference was. "And you can pour me a stiff whisky while you're there," he added with a grin. "And don't forget the ice!"
While Daddy unpacked the car I was 'popping' and drinking a can of ice cold lager. I had already poured his whisky - I'd made it a really large one because I thought he needed relaxing. Tomorrow was Saturday and he didn't have work, so the drink driving issue didn't enter into the equation. He finally joined me in the lounge, a little hot and bothered, but basically unscathed from unloading all my stuff. I handed him his drink, raised my can of lager and said, "Cheers!"
We both flopped down on the large brown three seat leather couch, just like we had when I was a small girl. Him on his middle section and me to his right. The lager was going down well - a habit I managed to acquire in the student's union bar at university. My father had finished his whisky in just a few sips. I snatched the glass out of his hand and went to the kitchen to pour him another. "Don't forget the ice", he shouted to me as I reappeared with his large whisky, complete with ice in one hand and another can of lager for me in the other.
I handed him his glass, flopped down on the couch in my usual position, looked him in the eye and asked outright, "What's the matter Daddy? I've noticed you've been a little distant today. Is there anything I can do?" He smiled at me. He always had a twinkle in his eye when he smiled.
"I've missed you Becci. I mean really missed you, especially since your brothers moved out. This house can be so lonely at times. I sit here on the couch most evenings watching television and my mind just wanders to how it was like years ago compared to now. The house was so full and lively then and now it's so quiet and empty. It's so nice to have you home again."
I snuggled up to his arm and laid my head on his shoulder and said, "It won't be like that for a good while now Daddy. Your little scamp of a daughter is home on holidays and we will be spending lots of time together." He shifted in his seat, put his arms around my shoulders and hugged me tightly. He kissed my hair as I hugged him back. As my arm went to go around his waist to hug him I thought I heard a little whimper coming from his throat. My eyes glanced down at his lap and I was surprised to see what looked like an erection in his trousers. I kept watching and when I saw it twitch I knew for certain that my father had an erection. Was it just something that sometimes happen to men? Or did he have an erection because of me hugging him so closely? As my mind began to race he broke his hold on me, stood up and said that it was time he went to bed as he was tired after the driving. I stood and kissed him goodnight. There was no hug back this time and I wondered whether it was me who had caused his erection and how he might now be feeling guilty or embarrassed about it. He turned and went to bed leaving me in the lounge to finish my can of lager before going to my bedroom for some sleep.
I woke early next morning with the sun streaming through the small gap in the curtains. I stretched and yawned and didn't know whether to get up or snuggle down for a lay in. My decision was made for me when my bladder decided it needed some relieve from the beer I had drunk the previous night. I threw back the bedclothes and walked to the bathroom passing Daddy's bedroom on the way. His door was open and as I glanced in I could see that he was already up, probably downstairs getting breakfast ready. I reached the bathroom, opened the door and entered. There was Daddy, standing by the bathroom sink having a shave. He was completely naked except for the shaving cream covering his face and chin. He turned from the bathroom mirror, his mouth agape with surprise and just stared at me. Not knowing what to do I said, "Sorry Daddy, but this is a matter of urgency. I need to use the toilet right now." I walked forward toward the toilet, lifted my short nightie and sat down on the toilet seat. Daddy was still awestruck I think. He just stood there, razor in hand, mouth wide open, staring at me. I was looking straight at him as my water began to flow. The sound of it hitting the water in the pan obviously excited him as I saw his cock starting to grow. Within a few seconds it had grown to its full length - probably a very nice eight inches or so. Despite having shaving cream hiding most of his face he still made a nice looking athletic man. A real turn on! Daddy picked up the towel he had used to dry himself after his shower and tried to hide his embarrassment and his erection.
I finished my pee and after wiping myself I rose off the seat. I straightened my nightie and flushed the toilet. I walked toward the door but just before opening it, I turned to Daddy, looked at his enlarged cock and said, "If you need help with that Daddy you'd better give me a shout and I'll see what I can do." With a naughty smile on my face I blew his a kiss. I just managed to close the bathroom door behind me when the towel that he had thrown hit the door and his words of "Get out of here," reached my ears.
I went back to my bedroom and climbed into bed, my mind racing. I couldn't stop thinking about Daddy's cock. I was getting really wet and just had to start fingering myself. I slid my fingers between the lips of my labia and moved them upwards towards my waiting and enlarged clitoris. It wasn't long before I was experiencing one of the most intense orgasms I had ever had. All I could think about was Daddy's cock and the thought of it penetrating my pussy and how much I wanted to taste and suck it into my mouth. This was the first time in my life I realised that if the opportunity ever arose I would fuck my father and would enjoy doing it.
I decided to dress in a light summer dress and went downstairs. Daddy was in the kitchen drinking a cup of tea. As I entered the kitchen he looked up from the newspaper he was reading and said, "Good morning, babe. Did you sleep well?"
