Dreams and Reality

My exams had been brutal, but one by one, I managed to get through all of them.

My third year of university had been the toughest yet. Since my parents divorced, I had been forced to work to help cover my tuition and living expenses. With school and two part-time jobs, I had worked through all of the breaks, nights, and weekends for both semesters. I hadn't been home since last summer and I was exhausted.

I almost felt numb, I would be home Friday night and the summer job I had set up would start on Monday. A weekend off and then right back to work, but the alternative was to miss a semester of school, and I couldn't do that. Not much time for fun or any kind of social life, but I guess I was used to that. I couldn't remember my last date much less the last time I had sex.

The car hit a pothole and the shock brought me back to reality. It was late afternoon and I was sitting beside my father in the front seat driving home from the university. I realized that he had been talking and I hadn't heard a word he had been saying.

My father was a big man, at 6.4 and 250 pounds; he was still in good shape with just a bit of a "muffin top" starting to form. At just over fifty, most of my friends considered him to be good looking, a few of them had even teased me about wanting to make a pass at him, especially now that he was divorced.

I refocused, nodded, and listened as he was continuing to talk about our weekend camping trip.

I was glad he was excited about camping I was too. It was nice to see him happy. The divorce had been particularly nasty. Mom had left him for a younger man and it had been very difficult for him. It didn't help that I had been away at school most of the time.

I was looking forward to camping too, it was going to be my only break between school and work and I loved being outdoors. I managed to pick up that he was talking about how everything was just about ready and we would be heading out at 4 am tomorrow. For years, he and his buddies had gotten together on this weekend and gone camping so they could act like teenagers again.

"4 AM! That's crazy, I could never understand that," I said, realizing just how tired I was going to be.

"Tradition, sweetie," he laughed.

"You guys need a new tradition," I grumbled.

"Hey, you are lucky I talked them into letting you come, you're going to be the first woman to go in quite a few years," he said earnestly.

"Why is that daddy?" I asked.

He shrugged, "The guys can be a little crude sometimes, but don't worry the guys will behave themselves, you know what they are like, and besides remember Tom is bringing his daughter too, so the guys won't talk about sex with you both around."

I decided to flip the subject around and asked him about dating. He said had dated a little since the divorce. Reading the lack of enthusiasm in his voice, I did not think he was looking for anything serious, maybe just a little sex. I teased him about it and then he teased me back when he said, "At least I remember the last time I had sex."

He was right, because of school and my part-time jobs; I had zero time for any relationships. Last summer was the last time I had been to bed with anyone. He was constantly telling me that I was working too hard.

"Rachel, you are a beautiful woman but nobody knows because all you do is work," he must have said that a hundred times to me in the past months.

I knew he was right, I wanted to go out, I wanted to get laid, I just couldn't afford it, financially and academically.

I almost told him that my vibrator barely kept my desires satisfied. It seemed like every night, I could not fall asleep unless I had played with myself until I had an orgasm. I had fantasized about everyone I knew: boys, girls, strangers, teachers, older men and women, and even him once or twice.

Then he admitted however, he had not been with anyone for several months. He said he was working 60-70 hours a week and just did not have the time. I wondered to myself, but did not ask, if he was masturbating as much as I was.

As we talked, I looked at him. He looked a little older than I had remembered. His cologne lingered in the air; I had always loved his scent. It reminded me of old leather and motor oil. When he had arrived, he hugged me as if I was a little girl. At 5.1 and barely 100 lbs, I guess I was small, and he easily lifted me off my feet and squeezed the air out of me like he had when I was a little girl.

The drive home was almost four hours. We spent most of the driving time talking about school and the camping trip.

I first I had turned down the camping trip because I didn't want him to miss it. I knew it was one of the few chances he had to let loose and have some fun.

He had finally convinced me to go after telling me that Tom was bringing his daughter and that he really wanted to spend the weekend with me.

"Rachel, you love camping, and besides, Tom is bringing his daughter Lauren so it won't be just you and a bunch of middle aged teenagers drinking and carrying on," he smiled.

I actually had been looking forward to the trip, it was my reward to myself after those exams, and it would be nice to be outdoors. I also liked Lauren, she was my age and we kept in touch.

After talking non-stop and getting more caught up on what we both had been doing as well, we still had more than an hour to go.

"Rachel, you look beat, why don't you take a nap," he suggested.

I thought that was a good idea and I leaned up against the door and closed my eyes. I shifted a little, but the car door wasn't very comfortable.

Daddy noticed and said, "Why don't you sit in the middle and you can lean against me."

I undid my seat belt and scooted over on the bench seat. I leaned against him and inhaled his cologne again. I attached the center seatbelt and Dad put his arm around me and before I knew it, I was asleep, the strain and pressure of the last few weeks washing over me like a rising tide.

I have always had vivid dreams and while we drove, I had a very unusual one.

I dreamt that we were still driving, except it was nighttime. I dreamt I awoke to feel my father's hand absentmindedly moving softly up and down my arm, his fingertips lightly stroking my skin, making my stomach feel like it was full of butterflies. It was a nice pleasant feeling. With my eyes closed, I could feel the initial tingling of arousal that I always felt whenever someone touched me.

Like lots of women, I have had my share of "daddy" fantasies; so I just kept my eyes closed as he stroked my arm and I pretended still to be asleep.

Daddy's hand accidently brushed up against my boob. He froze, realizing what he had done, not even breathing, and maybe perhaps waiting for a reaction. The only reaction I had was a feeling deep inside my pussy; I could sense myself starting to get wet.

After waiting several minutes with no outward response from me, I felt the fingers move again, tentatively, then a little bolder now actually caressing my boob on purpose.

In a few minutes his fingers were actually were moving in circles on the side and front of my boob. I could feel the size of his fingers through the light material of my tee shirt, it felt so nice and it had been so long since anyone other than me had touched them. I was glad I had not worn a bra and I could feel my nipples pushing against the material of my top. I am sure he could too.

I have always had very sensitive nipples and his fingers caressed and pushed against me gently making the wetness between my legs even greater. I wanted to moan, but I didn't want him to know, so I dreamt I stifled the sound.

I felt his strong fingers and his thumbs. He seemed awkward at first. I didn't care, the feeling was so nice, he got more purposeful and started to pinch and pull on one of my nipples. I knew, even dreaming, this was wrong, but I needed this so badly and I could feel my body responding to his touching.

It was everything I could do not to whimper in satisfaction. My nipples felt like they were on fire. I wanted to arch my back and moan loudly from the feelings that he was creating but somehow I managed to control myself from the intensity my little 34B's were experiencing. His hands were huge and my boobs were so small in comparison. The feeling of wetness now felt like a flood between my thighs.

In my dream, I wondered if he could detect the sweet aroma of my pussy and could feel the heat radiating from between my legs. The dream was so vivid and the feelings were so incredible it was easy to forget my dream was about daddy.

I felt his free hand move from my boob to my thigh. Again, he paused waiting for me to react; I could sense his breathing becoming deeper and more rapid as he became bolder. Slowly his fingers made circles on my bare thigh, my shorts had ridden up somewhat and the thin material barely covered my sex, I felt the seat upholstery through the silky material of my panties.

He froze again as I shifted a little, seemingly still asleep. After a few seconds, I opened my thighs a little, careful to continue making soft sleeping noises as he waited. I was afraid he was going to stop, but only moments later, I felt his thick index finger slowly and bravely tracing a line from my thighs to my pussy. I was sure he could now feel my heat emanating from my centre.

I felt his finger slowly moving up and down my sheer panties through my shorts, to reward his boldness; I gave into the feelings and started moaning quietly.

In my dream, even with my eyes closed I could sense the headlights of an ongoing car as it came and went. I was enjoying how naughty the slow encounter with my father was. Dreaming that I was still pretending to be asleep, I felt his fingers moving up to the waist of my shorts. It was difficult with one hand, but I felt one or two fingers dig into me a tiny bit, then they found a bit of leverage and slipped underneath the elastic of my shorts.

His fingers now moved freely inside my shorts and quickly found the wetness of my panties. His light touch on the sheer material felt so real and so amazing only added to my pleasure. My little clit must have been protruding through the tight material as his fingertip toyed and played with me. I softly moaned louder as he circled it with his finger. I imagined him moving his finger back and forth and I could hear myself whimpering and softly moaning.

Inevitability I felt his finger slowly prying itself under the elastic of my panties. Now no longer tentative, his rough fingers explored my shaved pussy. I could barely pretend not to notice as his touch explored the smoothness of my body. I could feel the hunger in his actions, and as I inhaled, his fingers caressed me. I felt one of them moving along my opening, the thickness of it felt amazing, it started to penetrate me and my body started to twist and move. I dreamt I cried out.

"Rachel, Rachel, are you okay," my father was shaking me.

"What, huh," I said groggily and confused, my body had been on the very edge of an orgasm and suddenly I realized that I had just been dreaming. The disappointment was almost overwhelming after being so close to orgasming.

"I was worried about you, you must have been having a nightmare because you were moaning and breathing really hard, and you even called out "Oh Daddy" a couple of times," he said, completely oblivious to the real reason why I was calling out his name.

I was partly embarrassed but mostly really intrigued, the dream had seen so incredibly real. I shifted my legs slightly and could feel the wetness between my thighs and subtly felt the front of my shorts and they were soaked. Looking down I could see my hard nipples pushing into the fabric of my tee shirt as well. I could also recognize the sweet aroma of my pussy, although my father did not seem to notice, although he would have to have been blind not to see my nipples.

If he noticed anything, he did not say anything.

For the rest of the drive, we made idle conversation that I could not remember. The slippery feeling between my thighs made conversation difficult and I found myself increasingly wishing the dream had been true. Several times daddy had to repeat his questions. I think he attributed it to my being tired, but it was because I was lost in a whirlwind of mixed emotions and questions. Adding to my feelings was knowing how close I had been to having an orgasm that I desperately wanted and needed.

I knew my dream had crossed over many lines of what was socially acceptable; but now thinking about it I couldn't help looking at my father and wondering about the possibilities.

It was late when we arrived at the darkened house. I noticed that he had everything packed and ready to go. By the time we unpacked my school stuff and had a pizza, I was exhausted. Daddy said he was going to catch the end of the game on TV and I decided to have a shower.

I went upstairs to the bathroom, unconsciously forgetting to lock the door.

I undressed myself in front of the mirror, my long blonde hair looking tousled as I undid my ponytail. Many people told me I was pretty, including daddy, maybe they were right, but I just thought I was kind of average. I was so short, I looked a lot younger than twenty-one, I thought my boobs were too small as well. Daddy joked that if I wore my jean coveralls and put my hair in braids he said I could likely get into the movies at the kid rate. What was going through my mind though were strictly the thoughts and desires of a woman.

Looking at myself naked, nobody would compare me to a kid. I felt my nipples and thought how they always looked huge compared to how small my tits were, but oh were they sensitive, as I absentmindedly continued to rub them and thought back to my dream.

Although small, my body was toned from running and jogging, my flat stomach had defined abs thanks to hundreds of sit-ups every day. My legs were shapely and rose up to what I thought was a nice ass, at least my old boyfriends and the odd girlfriend always had said that when they saw it or felt it up close.

I thought about masturbating right now, but I wanted to have a shower first so I got under the showerhead and turned on the water. The hot water helped and I started to relax as the hot water washed the sweat from my skin and the tiredness from my mind.

I grabbed the shaving cream and lathered up my pussy and shaved it bare as well as my legs, I love being completely hairless and smooth. When I was finished, given how horny I had been, I could not resist and started pulling on my nipples with one hand and slowly caressing my pussy with the other. I turned off the water and stepped back out in front of the mirror again.

"I would fuck me," I said as I looked at my reflection.

I leaned back against the wall to brace myself as my fingers went to work. In my mind, I went back to the dream with daddy still again. I thought of all of the things that I had imagined daddy had done to me only this time he did not stop when I shouted his name aloud.

I pretended my small fingers were his thick ones as I slipped one inside myself. My other hand was busy caressing, rubbing, and pinching one of my nipples again. My breath came in rasping spurts as I worked a second finger into my pussy. This time imagining my two fingers were his cock. I inhaled sharply as my imagination pictured daddy going further than just playing with me in the car.

It didn't take long for my fingers to work their magic and I moaned quietly and then progressively louder as I felt myself approaching an orgasm.

"Oh, daddy, that feels incredible," I said louder than I should have as an orgasm swept over me. I shivered as the electricity followed through me and my body flexed and went rigid with the very welcome and familiar feelings. The orgasm did not last long but it made my body feel so incredible. Catching my breath, I enjoyed the lingering throbbing as my body started to return to normal. I left my fingers inside me, feeling my juices running down my hand.

I heard the floor creak and suddenly froze. I stood very still, holding my breath. Moments later the stairs creaked and then I heard nothing but silence. Several seconds passed and I went to the door and slowly opened it, the hallway was empty. Maybe I was hearing things, but maybe daddy was listening to me masturbating. The thought of him listening turned me on so much, I was tempted to try for a second orgasm, but not knowing for sure, I wanted to see if that had really been him.

In my mind, I knew what I was thinking was wrong on so many levels. Maybe if I hadn't been celibate for so long, it would never have even entered my mind. However, the memory of that small orgasm still throbbed between my legs and I told myself that I was a grown woman. I tried just to think of him as an attractive man and that was enough to make me feel wet all over again. Then thinking of him acting like a voyeur listening to me masturbate made my pussy absolutely drip in excitement.

I decided to see what would happen and to nudge things along a little.

About fifteen minutes later I quietly walked down the stairs, standing outside the living room, I could hear the game and I could hear Daddy's breathing. It was more noticeable than normal and I could hear something rattling, something metallic, like maybe the band on his watch moving back and forth somehow.

In the fifteen minutes that had elapsed, I had put my hair up, done a quick makeup job with just the very basics. I had put on one of his old dress shirts and rolled up the cuffs. I was rushing because I was excited. The white shirt was miles too big on me, but I thought I looked very sexy in it, especially with only three buttons done up. The shirt hung down my body like a dress, a short dress. Looking in the hall mirror, I smiled because it was obvious that I was not wearing anything under the shirt.

With each passing minute, my heartbeat increased, I knew where I wanted to go, but everything depended on how the next few minutes unfolded. I had to will my fingers to stop shaking and I told myself to relax and see how daddy would react.

Listening to the rattling noise, I had a pretty good idea that Daddy wasn't concentrating on the game judging from the heavy breathing. I had been around enough guys to recognize the sound of them playing with themselves. Until today, I had never really thought about Daddy doing it.

I found it very exciting to think that he was masturbating while I was in the house and that he was probably thinking about me.

I thought about what to do next. I could barge in and confront him, but I knew I risked him being terminally embarrassed and lose any future opportunity with him. I could just hide and watch him, but being a voyeur wouldn't get me fucked, probably just more frustrated. Then I considered a third idea.

Daddy had the game on loud and the lights were down low. He hadn't heard me come down the stairs because I was pretty sure he wouldn't be playing with his cock otherwise. From several years of sneaking in late at night from being out with guys, I knew which parts of the floor squeaked and which parts didn't. I approached the entrance to the living room and knelt down, being careful to be quiet.

I let my eyes get used to the light and then peeked around the corner. The game was blaring loud enough to mask any noise I was making, and there was my father.

His eyes were closed as he lay on his back on the couch. His fly was open and he was stroking his cock. He wasn't as big as what I had imagined, but his cock was still a good size, more thick than long. His breathing was ragged and loud. His right hand bobbed up and down, stroking and causing him to moan occasionally. I was about 10 feet away and completely captivated by the scene and the knowledge of what I was doing.