It was Sara's eighteenth birthday and as she woke up, she immediately felt excited! She was a woman now, legal and free to do what she had fantasized about from the time of her sexual awakening and the first-fruits of puberty. Sara tossed the covers aside and threw her legs over the side of the bed. She spread them slightly, feeling the coolness of the room wash over her bare, exposed, pussy. Sara slept naked. She had as long as she could remember. Not only did her soft cool sheets feel exquisite against her naked nubile form, but her nudeness made it easier to reach down and pleasure her still developing young body when her mind filled with nocturnal lusty fantasies and her juices began to flow from her moist, creamy pussy.
She rose to her feet and stretched with her arms crossed above her head. She felt her soft, small, breasts bounce as she did this. Then she lowered her hands and gave them a squeeze as she smiled and looked down at them. All through middle and high school, the other girls teased her because Sara's breasts were so much smaller than theirs. Even now, they were only a 32-B cup size with perfect pink nipples. However, she figured there was someone out there who would love them enough to lick and to squeeze them, to give her pleasurable foreplay as only a warm mouth and tongue could do.
Sara and her daddy lived alone; her mother had taken off two years ago with some guy she had worked with. Since her abrupt departure, there has been no word from her. It was frustrating and confusing for Sara, and she hated her mother for placing her own lusts and needs over those of her daughter and her husband, Sara's father. Sara hated her for that and she was sure that she always would.
Since that time, Sara and her daddy have grown closer than ever. They never crossed the line, though; her daddy, John, made sure of that and explained to Sara why they could not engage in a physical relationship. Regardless, there had always been an unspoken closeness that neither dared to talk about aloud.
However, today was Sara's eighteenth birthday and breaking that barrier was the foremost thought racing through her as she threw on a pink lacy bra and matching panties, followed by a pair of jeans and a white spaghetti-strap shirt. She yanked open her door and darted out into the hallway, toward the living room from where her daddy's voice could be heard. Sure enough, he sat on the couch in a half-slouch, yelling at the anchorman on the television.
"Morning, Daddy!" Sara squealed, first running and then leaping into his arms. He gave a pained groan as she landed.
"Well, good morning to you, sweetheart," he said. His eyes scanned her body from top to bottom.
Sara noticed and stood up. She placed her hands on her hips, gave a half turn in each direction and said, "Do you approve, Daddy?"
John nodded with a smile. "You know you're beautiful in anything, Sara. You're my delicious cupcake, sweetheart."
Sara squealed again, her face lit up by another smile as she said, "Thank you, Daddy!" She sat down again, this time beside her father instead of on top of him. "So, do you have any plans for my birthday?"
"I don't know," John said, rubbing his chin. "I guess I forgot all about today being your birthday until you mentioned it."
Sara frowned playfully and dropped her hands to her hips again. "Daddy! How could you forget about my birthday?"
John smiled and wrapped an arm around his daughter's waist, pulling her closer. "I'm only joking, sweetheart. How could I forget such an important event? And besides, this year is a very special year, isn't it?"
"Uh-huh. It's my eighteenth birthday!!" Sara bounced up and down, finally settling beside her father a moment later, and laid on her back across his lap. She felt him shift uncomfortably beneath her, and she giggled and sat up. "Sorry, daddy," she said. "I don't wanna hurt your penis."
"What!"
After another giggle, Sara said, "Oh, come on, daddy! I know what your thing is called. We have the internet...and there are boys at my school."
"Oh really?"
"Not like that, daddy. I'm still pure." Sara flashed an angelic look.
"Yeah. I trust you haven't been with any of the boys at school, but I'm not too sure about the angelic bit." John turned his attention to the television again and Sara got up and went to the kitchen to eat breakfast.
After breakfast, Sara joined her father on the couch again. "You didn't really forget about my birthday did you, Daddy?" She asked.
John turned off the television and set down the remote. He turned to his little girl and said, "I didn't forget, sweetheart. It's just..." He hesitated. "...I wasn't sure what to get you, or if you would even want to spend time with me at all. I mean, you are eighteen now."
A pensive look washed over Sara's face. Then after a moment, she said, "It's okay, Daddy. I don't really want anything from the store."
"Oh," John said. "So you don't want anything for your birthday?"
"Well, I didn't say that."
John noticed her expression change. Sara lowered her head slightly, almost ashamedly. He was confused, so he took her chin in his hand and lifted it gently so her eyes met his. "What do you want then, sweetheart? Come on, you can tell me."
Hesitantly, Sara shrugged. Then after a long unbearable silence, she said, "You know how I said I was pure, daddy?"
"Yes?" He answered apprehensively.
"Well, that part was true. I've never had sex. Not even oral, Daddy."
Her father was at a loss for words. However, he managed: "That's a good thing, Sweetheart..." He felt her head press downward in his hand. "...I think."
Sara shook her head slowly. "But I don't wanna be pure anymore, Daddy," she said. "I mean, I don't just wanna do it with anyone though."
John removed his hand and her head rose surprisingly, her eyes were damp and there was great sadness in them. "Daddy, I love you," she said.
"And I love you, too, sweetheart."
She shook her head. "Not like that though. I love you even more than that."
"What are you saying, Sara?" John asked.
"Never mind. You'll hate me. You'll think I'm a freak."
With a look of dismay, John said, "I would never think that, sweetheart. Why don't you come out and tell me what it that you want and discuss it."
Despite her hesitancy, Sara explained, "Daddy, I want you to be my first."
Those words hit John like a ton of bricks. He had never imagined for even a second that he would hear those words from his daughter's lips. It was true that he had felt a closeness toward her in the past two years that bordered inappropriateness, that felt unnatural even. However, now that those words were out in the open, it gave new levity to what he had longed for, desired, and yet dreaded, all this time.