To the reader: The father-daughter relationship is one of the most precious on earth. I hope you enjoy the following story and I promise, as always, that I will heartily welcome all feedback, positive or otherwise.
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I think of my growing up years as big and wonderful and empowering. I was forever made to feel important and valued but that was never allowed to go to my head. My mom was very good looking, hip, fun and quick to make friends She was a successful Executive Assistant to the Chief Operating Office of a major regional bank. My dad was my hero through all those years. He was fiercely protective of me, endlessly affectionate, generous and did I mention very good looking. He was tall, always tanned had an infectious laugh and an easy smile. I loved them both deeply and they loved each other. It turned out, though, that there was to be a little more to the father-daughter relationship than is, I think, traditional.
I was 18. Dad and I made our customary annual fishing trip to Craig's Lake in central Ohio. We'd been doing it since I was 10 and that trip had become my birthday present every year, just me and Dad. How I looked forward to it and I know he did too. We'd talk, and fish and hike and cook and just hang out together. It never got old. It was always a magical week. Things certainly took a very different turn that year, however.
It was Tuesday. We'd been there three days and had made a good catch that day. Dad cleaned the fish and I cooked up the fillets. We ate and laughed and shared stories and consumed much wine. We planned to watch a movie after the dishes were done but when we finished drying and putting them up, Dad asked to be excused. I asked if he was OK and he said yes, maybe it was the wine but he had some personal business to take care of upstairs.
"Personal business?" I asked. "What kind of personal business do you need to tend to at this hour?"
He got very red in the face and stammered for an answer. None came. He avoided my gaze. I knew at that point what he was up to and having consumed a fair amount of wine myself, decided to have little fun with him.
"Oh Dad, for crying out loud, I'm an 18 year old woman. I know exactly where you're going and why," I reported. "I'm not a little girl any more. I know that's just as normal for you as it is for any man. Just because you're my father doesn't mean I don't think you do that. Don't be embarrassed with me," I said in a conclusive tone.
Still he said nothing but at least made eye contact and smiled. Most of the redness had seeped out of his face. Finally he said, "OK sweetie, I guess you got me. I won't be long and when I come back we can watch that movie." With that he turned and headed upstairs.
No sooner had he disappeared than I realized that I'd become a little aroused by that conversation. My breathing had become a little quickened and shallow. I didn't even think about it, I just reacted. I snuck upstairs as quietly as I could. I don't know if he left the door ajar on purpose or not but I could plainly see the light spilling out onto the hardwood floor as I made my way up the hall. I was pretty stealthy as I edged up to the bathroom doorway. I stood there, silent and still.
I counted to ten and then decided to make my move. I walked noisily up to the door and stopped to look in, pretending surprise. Our eyes locked. "Sorry Dad, it's just me," I said and began to turn as if I was going to walk away. I did pivot in place but didn't walk away. Instead, I turned my head back to look at him. His cock was enormous and reddened. I was shocked at the size of it and also that he was completely naked. It was clear he'd been hard at work and was about to experience his inevitable reward. Our eyes still locked on each other.
"Again Dad, sorry to interrupt," I said. "I'll let you have some privacy," and I headed back down stairs.
He can back down about 10 minutes later, went into the kitchen, poured a glass of apple juice and then came to sit beside me on the couch. "Well that was a little awkward," he said.
His comment just hung there in the air. I don't think either of us knew what to say. Finally we both began at the same instant to say something and immediately fell silent to let the other talk. Again the awkward silence. He cleared his throat and I knew he was about to say something.
"Look honey, knowing that your dad masturbates is one thing, seeing him do it is another. I can't undo what happened up there but I sure can say I hope you weren't offended or that you somehow think differently about me...you know, think less of me."
"We'll not only is that not the case," I began, "but in a certain way that made me feel closer to you. That was an intensely personal, intimate moment for you and strange as it might have been, sharing part of that moment was, I don't know, kind of like special. I wasn't put off. This might sound crazy Dad, but I kind of felt privileged to share that intimacy with you."
"We've shared a of of things over the years sweetheart but this certainly breaks new ground. I'm sorry but I just can't help feeling a little embarrassed," he said.
"You're certainly entitled to your own feelings but I still say you're wasting your time being embarrassed about that in front of me," I went on, "And besides, I think you've got a cute butt and I must say you are very, very well endowed."
"Your mother has never complained," he said sheepishly.
"I get that alright. I've never had a man that size. The biggest...."
"Whoa," he interrupted me. "I'm your dad. I don't want to hear about your sexual exploits. I think it's time we watch the movie. That ok?"
"Yeah I get it Dad," I said in response, "but can I say one more thing?" I asked pleadingly. He nodded.
"I love you so much right now I could burst." I said and bent over to kiss him on the cheek. We hugged and put on the movie.
I slept kind of fitfully that night. He'd let that conversation go a little further than I might have thought as I looked back on it, especially about there having been no complaints from Mom about the size of his dick. But the image of that dick stayed on my mind. I finally fell asleep thinking about it and the way it looked in his hand.
Wednesday was a terrific day but nothing out of the ordinary happened. Such was not the case on Thursday.
We'd made reservations for a boat tour on one of the nearby lakes that featured a number of gilded age mansions scattered around the shore. We were looking forward to it. Our reservations were for 9:30 and the lake was a 30 minute drive. It was 8:15 when Dad knocked hard on my bedroom and yelled out to me that we had overslept.
"Got to get moving' honey. We're already running behind," he said and was gone.
It only took me a few seconds to come out if my sleep fog and understand what he'd said. I got up, went to the kitchen for coffee and thanks to the timer, found a hot pot waiting. I poured a cup and went back to my room to lay out some clothes.
I had to pee in a terrible way but Dad was in the only bathroom. I tried to distract myself with making the bed but the minutes were racing by and when I could no longer stand it I went to the door and knocked. I could hear the shower running. He didn't answer. I opened the door a crack and yelled in. He heard me and hollered back, asking for 5 more minutes.
"Sorry Dad, I'm going to pee myself right now. I got to come in". And I did.
I didn't look up at first, just kind of kept my eyes downcast. I closed the door behind me and stepped over to the toilet which was only about 2 or 3 feet from the shower stall. The door is clear glass and he was right in the middle of jerking off.
