As far back as I can remember, I've had a thing for older men, so I guess it was inevitable that I'd eventually develop feelings for my father. What I wasn't expecting, however, was just how intense and explicit those feelings would become.
I first realised I was genuinely attracted to my father when I was around 18. It had been three years since my mother left us, running off with another man, leaving Dad to raise me and my brother (who's two years younger than me) by himself. Anyway, I was 18 years old, and was going through all the regular teenage things - raging hormones, boys, the end of high school, hormones, body image issues, hormones - the works, and one day found myself really, really studying my father while he was cooking dinner...his face, his body, everything. He's a rather beefy man, always rather muscly, thanks to his work as a labourer. He kept his dark hair short, with a simple, rather conservative cut. Always clean shaven. And his brilliant smile manages to brighten up even his dark, soulful eyes. Thanks to all these features, it's easy to understand that Dad had no problem finding dates after Mum left us; it was keeping them that was the hard part. Dad always claimed that nobody he dated was as interesting or genuine the way Mum had been when they first met. So he'd just stop calling.
All this was on my mind as I was watching him cook dinner (steak and salad, nothing fancy) this one night when I was eighteen. And it slowly dawned on me that I wasn't just focusing on him in a "He's so handsome, so why can't my father get a proper girlfriend?" kind of way...when I began wondering how hairy his chest was, what his back felt like without a shirt on, I felt a familiar feeling in my crotch that could only mean one thing. I tried to deny it at first, attributing it to a typical teenage overactive sex drive, but I knew that was bullshit. Finally, I admitted the truth: "Holy shit, I'm actually fantasising about Dad?!"
Of course, I kept this to myself at the time, and struggled through tea and the rest of the night, doing my best to be normal. Definitely the hardest part was saying goodnight to him. We were a fairly affectionate family, so saying goodnight involved a kiss, usually a quick peck on the lips. Leaning over to kiss Dad goodnight that night, I smelt his scent more than ever before, relishing the warm combination of his deodorant and "a hard day's work" sweat. When my lips gently met his for the briefest of kisses, it felt like an explosion in my stomach. An explosion that set my crotch on fire. "Night-night, Daddy" I quietly muttered, and almost ran off to bed, my face feeling as red as a tomato.
Needless to say, that night was a restless one. I couldn't get to sleep, I was too busy arguing with myself about whether I was insane, too horny for my own good, or perfectly normal for having sexual thoughts about my father. I tried asking myself "Alright, fine. What if he came in your room right now, telling you how much he wants you? Would you seriously be fine with that? Would you tear off your skimpy little pyjamas and take his cock in your mouth?" Based on what my hand was doing in response to these thoughts, yes I would. I discovered the joys of masturbation relatively young. The first night I came properly, I must have been quite loud, as my Mum came rushing into my room, asking if I was okay. I assured her that I must've just had a bad dream. Since then, I've always been incredibly silent when I've cum. That night, fantasising about Dad propositioning me, I had four or five of the most intense orgasms I'd ever had till that point. It was a struggle to keep silent during those ones, I assure you. I managed, though, and sleep then came quickly.
Now, as you may or may not have guessed, I'm a rather shy girl. So of course, I never told anyone about my lustful thoughts about my father...unless you count Google? The next night I began investigating what people thought about sexual relationships between girls and their fathers, and how normal or not normal it is. One of the many things I learned from that night's internet session was the word "incest." A word that, even if you didn't know the meaning of the word, still sounds so sexy, naughty, and forbidden, doesn't it? As for what else I discovered that night... A fair amount of people are against incest, labelling it as unnatural and disgusting. But that didn't bother me; the people think that about interracial couples or gay people are ignorant, so they're probably the same kind of people speaking out against incest. But I kept searching for what the internet had to offer in regards to incest. I found porn, message boards, erotic stories much like this one, chat rooms, and countless other sites in support of incest. So when I went to bed that night, I had one of the best, most guilt-free masturbation sessions ever, with only Dad in my thoughts.
For the next five years, my interest in my father never disappeared completely, but it seemed to come and go, like waves on a beach. For weeks on end, I could spend every night and day masturbating about fucking my father; the rest of the time, I wouldn't think about my father at all, let alone sexually. Kissing him goodnight/goodbye eventually got easier, and he has never asked me about that first goodnight kiss where my face went redder than it ever has before. While I can safely say I never stopped loving and wanting my father, after about a year of not being interested in anyone but him (without me ever trying to admit my feelings to him), I decided it was time to give up and try settling for some guy my age. Many guys came and went, but I never felt any kind of spark for them...not the way I felt that spark for my father the first night I lusted after him. Throughout those five years, I did everything I could to get to know my father the way you would any other partner - I started to get interested in his favourite bands like Pink Floyd and Creedence Clearwater Revival; I'd join him on the couch when he'd watch one of his heist/crime movies; I started asking more detailed questions about his work and the people who worked with him; and I volunteered to help out around the house to make it more even.
In between all my public attempts to get more acquainted with my Dad, I lurked, I chatted, I posted, and I role-played on various taboo-themed websites and chat rooms, in addition to masturbating to a wide variety of incest-themed porn; have you ever seen Taboo 2? Holy hell, it's fantastic! People always ask me: Did I try to peek on Dad, catch him in the shower or spy on him masturbating? I sure tried, but never succeeded in the least. As affectionate as we may be, we're also a very reserved (repressed!) family, and there was never any openness about nudity the way other families seem to be. Eventually, Dad gave up looking for another girlfriend altogether, I graduated high school and got a fairly okay-paying part time job, but never moved out of home (unlike my younger brother, who moved out the minute he hit eighteen, pretty much). If anyone asked me why I was still living at home with my Dad, I would keep telling them I was trying to save for a house deposit, but it's so hard with housing prices just getting more and more expensive. How much truth there was to that varied by how hard I was trying to seduce my father.
