FORWARD
I'm trying something a little different for Part Two. This chapter will be told from two different points of view; both Carrie, and her father.
ALL CHARACTERS ARE AT LEAST 18 YEARS OF AGE OR OLDER.
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(Carrie)
It's not like I PLANNED on seducing my father. Outside of porn, it's simply not something that even crosses a young woman's mind.
But the accident that put both my arms and legs in casts also wound up bringing us closer in ways I never expected.
I doubt it was something he'd ever considered either. My father is a good man. He spent years after Mom died raising me on his own, and never once did I ever feel he acted, or even looked at me, inappropriately.
I could see in his face how awkward and uncomfortable it made him to have to clean me after going to the bathroom, or undressing me, or bathing me in the shower.
Even when I noticed his arousal after giving me that first bath, I knew it was involuntary. He wasn't a father thinking perverse thoughts about his nineteen year old daughter, simply a man, reacting as any man would upon seeing a young woman so naked and openly exposed, and having to be in close physical contact with her.
The experience did, however, start me thinking about him as more than simply my dad.
He'd never dated after mom died. I don't recall him ever having a woman over to visit, or making plans to go out with one.
But he's a man. He must have needs, right? And some kind of outlet for them?
I know I do. While my sexual experience is rather limited, it doesn't mean my hormones aren't working properly. I enjoy masturbating as much as anyone, and never felt shame about indulging myself on a very regular basis.
I suppose that's what led to where we are now, of course. Having dad discover me fallen on the floor, helpless, legs agape, my vibrator rattling away beside me was the most embarrassing thing I've ever had happen.
But being honest, it was also the most thrilling.
My ex-boyfriends would probably call me "prudish" if you asked them. But the simple truth is I didn't feel they truly cared about or respected me enough to have earned more than the occasional handjobs I'd give them.
Laying there on my bedroom floor, I was suddenly struck with the realization that my father was the only man who'd ever seen me naked. Several times now since the accident, but this time certainly in the most sexual way. It was obvious what I'd been doing, there was no hiding the still buzzing vibrator, or my swollen and slick vagina, despite my best efforts to close my legs.
Watching his face, knowing he was seeing my most intimate area so exposed, knowing he was the first to see it, and fully understood what I'd been doing, made my already aching pussy throb even harder.
And then there he was, helping me up, comforting me and playing it off as no big deal despite his own obvious discomfort with the situation.
It was my understanding of just how much I loved and trusted my father, knowing he would never intentionally hurt or mistreat me, along with my pent up sexual frustration that gave me the courage to ask him to help me masturbate.
My request shocked him, of course. It shocked me as well, frankly.
But oh how that shock had changed to pleasure once he finally agreed. It was such an incredible mix of new feelings and sensations: Having someone else doing it to me, looking at me, watching me while I writhed in orgasm. Knowing that someone was my father. Knowing how "wrong" it was, but also knowing there was no one else I loved or trusted more to share this with.
I lay awake for some time afterwards, considering it all. But not, as dad was afraid would happen, in a regretful way.
Instead, I again found myself thinking about exactly what dad did to satisfy his own sexual needs. He'd left my room with an obvious erection. I wondered if he was now satisfying that urge, and if he was thinking about me while doing so.
I wondered if he felt guilt over it, or excitement. Or both.
I knew he was also thinking about mom. I couldn't begin to imagine how conflicted he must be feeling, especially knowing how much I reminded him of her.
I felt at once proud to know just how much like my mother I was to him, but also guilty that that likeness would stir such conflicting desires in him.
And with no other woman in his life, no outlet for his desires and urges, I worried about how it could affect him mentally.
The last thing I wanted was for him to be consumed by guilt or shame, especially since I was the one who goaded him into such an intimate encounter with his own daughter.
The next day, I decided to push things a little further. He made it easy by inviting me out to the pool. An innocent offer, until he understood that he had to dress me in my bikini, and put the suntan lotion on.
He thought he could hide his erection by diving into the pool, but I noticed it. I expected it, of course.
What I didn't expect was how easily, how eagerly, he accepted the idea of using the vibrator on me again in the shower, or the way he took control of things; no longer passively just holding it, but finding creative and highly stimulating ways of using it on me.
After two mind blowing orgasms, we came to the moment of truth. Dad was hard, his erection straining at the fabric of his bathing suit.
I was flush with a mix of pride and guilt. Pride at being the one responsible for arousing him so fully; guilt at not being able to truly help him release it.
It didn't take much convincing to get him to masturbate for me. I knew he'd never ask, never suggest it, but I also knew he'd be willing if he was sure I was okay with it.
I've seen several penises before, as I've mentioned, but seeing Daddy's, so long and firm and swollen, knowing I caused it, watching his eyes as they roamed my body while he stroked...I was shivering with excitement.
And then he surprised me again by shoving the vibrator between my legs at high speed.
I was yelling profanities at him as our climaxes built and finally exploded. His cum was a hot lava on my face, the first time I'd gotten cum anywhere on me but my hands. I instinctively licked at it, my mind and body running on pure, primal instincts.
It was the most erotic experience of my life. And it was with my father.
We spent the rest of the day in far more normal Father / Daughter ways; playing games, watching TV etc.
We also talked a lot. About mom, about the past, about the future. We've always been close, but somehow our recent experiences brought us even closer instead of driving us apart.
I certainly felt no guilt or shame, and if he did, he was hiding it well.
We spent the night in his bed at my suggestion, although nothing more happened than some innocent snuggling.
My last thoughts before drifting off to sleep were simply that I loved my father, very much. I wanted to be there for him, in any way I could. And, I wanted him, too.
