Following My Instincts

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This story may not be reproduced in any form for profit without the written permission of the author.

It is fairly well known that some men have a third person relationship with their penis, that is, they consider their penis as a separate entity to themselves. I think having unexpected erections during puberty have contributed significantly to this. Sometimes men actually give their penises a name and have conversations with them. As I began to write this story I realised that my main character had a similar relationship with her vagina. It gave this story a bit of an odd somewhat humorous feel I had to continue with.

Hope you enjoy.

*

Dad looked at me over the top of the morning paper and my knees went weak. It wasn't the first time my knees had done that to me when I looked into his eyes but it hadn't happened to me for years, not since I was a teenager. I had a big crush on him then.

I was quite surprised. I thought I had gotten over my infatuation, that it was a part of me that had been buried and pretty much forgotten. Not that I didn't love my dad - I did. He was my closest and dearest friend. Since mum died, there's just been the two of us, through thick and thin. And now this? I was sure I had put all those childish fantasies behind me but I was so wrong. Pussy was wet in seconds and my nipples rock hard. I couldn't believe what my body was doing to me! I felt like a virginal schoolgirl on her first date when in fact I was just waiting for my toast to pop up. My head was spinning!

I had, for some time, trusted Pussy to lead me to my lovers and following Pussy's instincts had been my 'modus operandi' for years. I mean, barring my first sexual experience, which was pretty bad, Pussy had led me to guys (and a couple of gals) that had satisfied me both physically and emotionally. And I can't blame Pussy for that first time anyway. I had no idea what I was doing, I was just a rudderless kid then, really.

That was why I felt so confused.

Here I was, sitting in my bathrobe, sipping on a cup of tea, waiting for the toaster to do its toasty magic thing and suddenly Pussy is jumpin' around trying to get my attention by leaving puddles on my chair! There was no mistaking Pussy's focus but damned if I could understand it. And why now? I'd been back home for a couple of months. What was so special about today? What was so special about this morning?

My excited, dizzying feelings reminded me how I felt before my first sexual experience with a man. God, I was so naïve then. I couldn't recognise what I now know are Pussy's clear and insistent messages from the clutter of a schoolgirl's fantasies. I had daydreamed and fantasised about Dylan so many times but when we actually had our pants down it was literally a bloody disaster. Before he had even taken my cherry, before we had even started to have intercourse, he had cum all over my thighs. I was horrified at the sticky mess but kept my disgust at the icky liquid congealing on my leg silent. I guess I buried my revulsion because I really didn't know what should be happening and didn't want to look stupid in front of Dylan. I'd seen porno 'cum shots' but this seemed different, not sexy at all.

And when Dylan actually got around to fucking me, well I wasn't as aroused as I needed to be and a bit dry. I think there was more lubricant from my bleeding hymen than from being aroused. And of course Dylan didn't last more than about twenty seconds inside me before he blew his load. And then he snoozed for a bit before grabbing his clothes and scarpering. I was left fairly sore and with a mess to clean up. I was pretty disgusted with the whole idea of sex. Turned me off for years.

Well of course there was another lover and this time Pussy almost picked me up by the scruff of the neck and dumped me in his lap. There were no mistaking Pussy's messages this time. I had no time to be confused by a build up of fantasies. There was a fabulous erotic spark between us and Selwyn was just perfect for what I wanted, and realistically, needed. Later that night he took his time with me and made me cum with his fingers and then his tongue before getting anywhere close to me with his hard cock.

Selwyn and I only had a short-term affair (he was married) but he showed me just how good sex could be and I began to trust Pussy's instincts. No matter how good looking a guy or gal might be, no matter how long I might have been without sex I would never make a move unless Pussy gave me her wet 'Go for it!' signal. She could be unmistakeable in her message, no doubt.

That's why I was so confused.

I rely on my eyes to see, my ears to hear, my nose to smell, my tongue to taste, my skin to feel and Pussy to sniff out my next lover and this morning Pussy was pointing to my dad and going, him, Him, HIM!

"Toast's up."

"Huh?"

"Your toast's ... err ... toasted."

"Ah, thanks." I sat with my luke-warm cup of tea and didn't move. How could I think about eating toast when all I could think about was fucking Dad? There just wasn't any room left in my head. It was full of humping, sweating bodies, my body and Dad's. Pussy was overflowing and my nipples just wanted someone to give them a damn good squeeze, anyone! They weren't choosey.

"Are you feeling all right?" Dad leaned close and put the back of his hand on my forehead. God, he smelt so good I nearly ripped off my bathrobe and leapt on him right there!

"Err. I dunno." Was I feeling all right? How could I possibly be all right fantasising about fucking my dad? I was mad, evil, corrupt, and deviant.

"Well why don't I call your boss and tell him you're not well." That's right, Dad, tell him I'm sick, a real sicko! "Why don't you go back to bed?"

I nodded. "Okay." I wanted to go to bed but not my skinny little single bed. I want to spread my legs wide on your big double bed, Daddy. I stood, somewhat shakily and Dad took my elbow to steady me. I could feel the wet patch on the back of my bathrobe, left there by over-excited Pussy, slap against the back of my legs as I staggered to my room.

I had only moved back with Dad out of financial desperation. I just couldn't believe how expensive a flat was. I couldn't use subsidised student accommodation any more. While my business management degree would be a good basis for an on-going career, the work situation was not the best and the only job I had been able to find was slingin' burgers. I wasn't proud. It paid my bills, sort of.

My room was still decorated circa 2004's. Embarrassing, I know. But I didn't look at the 'Destiny's Child' poster; I ignored the Christina Aguilera bobble-head doll and collapsed onto my skinny single bed. It was the same bed that Dylan had so roughly popped my cherry but I didn't care. My robe hit the floor before the door closed and I was on my back, on that skinny bed, knees spread wide with my right hand sliding over my wet lips, fingers sliding into Pussy, one, two, and slowly, three. Unghhh! My thumb rolling across my clit sent more shivers through me, mmmmm.

At first my mind filled with my generic fantasy lover, I called him my 'Great Dark Man' but wouldn't you know it, anonymous parts of my GDM started to become distinctly less so, with my dad's features filling in the shadowed blanks. Oh, Pussy, ohhh, Pussy where are you leading me? My climax shook me when my GDM's eyes became Dad's. UUNNGGGGHHHHH!

I don't know about your orgasms but mine come in all flavours from screeching profanity to little whimpers. Some quench me and lay me flat; others are just a prelude to something more. Pussy was telling me she needed more than just an overture. It was time to get ready for the first act.

I rolled onto my knees and swapped hands. I'm not naturally ambi-dexterous, but practice makes perfect! I didn't use my left very often, it was weaker and tired more easily, but sometimes it felt just a little unfamiliar and that always adds spice even if it is just a pinch.

Being face down meant I could also let off a bit of vocal steam. A pillow in the face was a bit of a restraint too; tie me up lover, have your way with me, push me into the bed my thrusting lover. Because I already had Dad's eyes, the rest of his face filled in quickly, his smile and his once broken and never-fixed-properly nose, the creases around his eyes when he smiled that told me he was truly happy. Pussy pulsed and a wave of hot liquid seemed to pour out of her, drenching my hand and legs.

Into the pillows again and again, my 'Great Dark Man' thrust me. I could 'see' Dad's face contort in orgasmic rapture as if in slow motion, and Pussy whomped me in response, a deep pulse shaking me, knocking me flat. I fucked my hand. I Fucked My Hand. I FUCKED MY DAD!!! UunGGHHHHHMMmmmmm ... ahhhh.

Now that was better. I was sweating and panting and sucking air through my pillow was hard work. I started to roll onto my back but I didn't quite get there. That was okay, what I really wanted was air. My left forearm ached a bit and my hand shook slightly but that was just fine, most of me was still shaking a bit too.

Hmmm. The first act was pretty good but I was sure the second act would be more dramatic. My reliable right hand began to swirl some opening themes around my clit when the door opened.

Dad went through an amazing array of emotions for the half a second or so he actually looked at my gently writhing body. First of all he was just Dad carrying a tray filled with tea and some toasted muffins, then his face went sort of blank as if he didn't quite recognise what he was looking at, then he recognised that the sweating moaning body was deeply engaged in self pleasure, and for an instant there was an aroused response. Just for a split second, of course, then our eyes locked and Dad realised he was looking at me getting myself off. Then bam, bam, bam, it was embarrassment for being aroused at the sight of his over-sexed daughter, guilt, horror and fear. Amazing. All that in less than a second.

Of course Dad closed the door and backed away, but unfortunately he also did it in that order so he was not quite removed when the door swung back to occupy that space. The door won. The tray with the cup of tea and muffins lost and I heard the wet splash crash tinkle of cups and plates shattering on the tiles outside my door. Over all this was the sound of dad's horrified and effusive apologies.

I didn't cry out or squeal but I did groan. Pussy was getting seriously wet again. Having my real Dad's eyes on me sent a wave of excitement through me, radiating out from super-heated Pussy. I wanted to gasp and cry out but I could see Dad's shadow in the gap under my door as he picked up the shattered crockery. I could hear him whispering to himself. Poor baby. We'd both seen each other naked but Dad had never caught me getting off when I was young, though I'm sure he knew what I was up to. Honestly I can't help being vocal. It just happens.

So act two was indeed dramatic, more than I bargained for but just what Pussy ordered. Now just how did she do that? My cum began rippling through me almost as soon as Dad finished cleaning up. And it built and Built and BUILT! uunnngghhhh! Uunngghh! UUNNGGHHHH! Hmmmmm.

I was hot, wrung out and sweating, oh but Pussy was happy and she sang to me a sweet lullaby as my fingers oh so slowly withdrew.

I don't know just how long I slept but I woke feeling relaxed and refreshed. I yawned and stretched and thought about Dad and what Pussy wanted me to do. This was the first time I had ever had a second thought about following Pussy's instincts. Pussy my love, you want me to fuck my dad! That needs some thought doesn't it?

Incest. There it is. The big boogie man. Incest. That's what you're planning isn't it Pussy. Daddy's cock sliding in and out of you, in and out. Oh god, I was getting turned on again and that left little room for rational thought.

So why was I afraid of fucking my dad?

Rejection? Would I revolt dad? Just look at how fast he back peddled out of here. I wished for a moment that Dad had been naked. I could have really taken an accurate gauge of his response. Did Dad get hard? Even a little?

Was that it? Rejection? I tried to tick off the relevant incest 'facts'.

Incest is perpetrated against children by their sexual predator relatives. Err. Nope, not relevant. I was twenty-two and not a virgin child by any measure.

Incest makes deformed babies. Again, not relevant. I was on the pill and had been for years. It was even the wrong part of my cycle. I didn't think I could get pregnant even if I wasn't on the pill.

Next? Um. I had to think hard.

Incest destroys family relationships. Hmmm, maybe. Most families I had witnessed were either sailing along fairly smoothly, totally fucked up or somewhere in between. If incest is anything at all like any other sexual relationship then surely there are good instances of it? I mean all you ever hear about are the bad instances, you know, banner headline: 'Father Fucks Five! Goes Down!' or 'His daughter, his wife!'

Just how many good instances of incest have you seen reported? None. Good relationships just don't make the headlines unless it's; 'Married For 60 Years; he's still good in bed she says'. You don't see: 'Daddy makes me cum good!' or 'I call daddy Drambuie 'cos he's a fancy licker!' It just won't happen.

I already had a good relationship with Dad. Were Pussy's intentions going to screw it all up? Surely, if there were bad instances of incest then there just must be good examples. Pussy had made her mind up. Her path was clear. Now it was up to me. I loved my dad and he loved me. That was rock solid. I knew that, deep in my being. I was sure we would survive it.

Here goes.

Dad sat with his back to the door, (dangerous), doing something with one of his PC's. There were three workstations set up against the walls and a bank of machines Dad used as a render farm sitting in the corner. I had fired up the coffee maker and the fragrant steaming twirl rising from the mugs were tantalising.

"Dad? Coffee?" I slipped behind him, reached around and placed the mug on the coaster beside the mouse pad.

"Thanks dear. Just what I need." He clicked a few more times, slid a DVD into the tray and clicked once more. "There. Finished." He looked at the interface as it began to write the disk. "I hope." Dad picked up his cup and took a long sniff. "Hmm the good stuff." Yes dad, the good stuff now turn and look at me. He did.

"I'm so sorry..." he looked so embarrassed.

"Don't." I said, cutting him off.

"I though I heard you say 'come in'."

"What you probably heard was me cumming!" I laughed and Dad joined in.

"Look, Dad. I'm surprised you haven't walked in on me before."

"Well I was always super careful when you were young, I guess I just forgot."

"No Dad, I should have locked my door. It wasn't your fault." Dad sighed and sipped at his coffee. Good. At least he wasn't horrified at me, just his own reaction. Now to turn things in Pussy's direction.

"Dad?"

"Yes sweetheart?" he looked up and suddenly I found myself on Dad's lap. Pussy pulsed. Now how did I do that?

"Daddy?" Daddy? I hadn't called him that since Mum died. I wriggled or rather Pussy wriggled me. Dad gasped and I could feel a hardness beneath me. I think my whole body flushed. God! Dad was hard, and getting harder. Excellent!

"Dad." That was better. "I know it's been a long time since you've been with a woman," Dad sort of gurgled as his face turned crimson. "I love you Dad and," Now how was I going to say this? "And I want to share my body with you, to expand the love I feel for you, to create a physical connection."

"Please baby-doll..." I closed his mouth with mine. He didn't struggle too much and then he pulled me to him as his tongue moved into my mouth. Pussy wriggled me again and my left hand grazed my thigh as it dived between our bodies and burrowed beneath dad's shorts. I wrapped my fingers around dad's hardness and pulled it roughly out into the open. "Oh baby, you don't ... have to ... I mean ... oh OOHHHH!!!!"

Dad was cumming. He was cumming all over my thighs. Dad came over his shirt and pants, over my arm and hand and a great hot spurt crossed both my thighs and began to trickle down between them. I half expected to feel a horrified response rising within me, blame Dylan, but nothing happened. Well that wasn't quite true, Pussy was delighted and I know I left a big wet spot on dad's lap that easily matched his outpourings, or should that be outspurtings?

I've never been on the best of term with guys' spunk. It's sticky and smells funny. I do blame Dylan, loser. Even with Selwyn I could only tolerate it. Hand on heart, I have never swallowed. Never.

Now how can a girl with my history of cum avoidance suddenly get so wet over my Dad's ejaculate? (Or should that be ejacu-early? Shhh don't laugh. He was horrified.) For the first time ever, I wanted to get down and dirty with the creamy white stuff. I wanted Dad's cum all over me. Now how can that be? It didn't look any different from the litres of cum I had seen. Was it the smell? Spunk's smell has never been one of its more endearing attributes and Dad's didn't smell that different but my response was. Well, Pussy's response really. I was just along for the ride.

I grinned at Dad and kissed him hard muffling his apologies while my hand stroked him using whatever gooey, slippery substance it found to ease its way and there was a lot to work with.

I sucked at his cum soaked shirt as I slipped carefully off Dad's lap. I made sure my cum coated hand kept pumping Dad even though he was very soft now. The plum red head of his cock was still very sensitive and he groaned as I rolled it in my hand. He gasped as I sucked his cum covered cock into my mouth and his hands fell to the back of my head. I sucked, slowly. My tongue rolling his little head back and forth. There was movement and growth. Good, my one fear was that the ol' man would be finished with one blow but his inflating cock put that worry to bed. Hmmm, bed.

Far more quickly than I expected Dad's tool became rock hard. I didn't need any more encouragement. My over-large t-shirt was off and I slipped back into my dad's lap, only this time I was straddling his legs rather than draping myself across them. I looked Dad in the eyes as I played his cock head back and forth around my wet slash.

Why do you love one person and not another? My Dad's not a poster child for an apparently virile middle age man. His hair's thinning and receding further and further up his head. I've already mentioned his misshapen nose. Dad had flabby man-breasts and he had far too many pounds around his tummy. He was pale as a ghost from sitting inside all day and his legs were skinny with knobbly knees. And his cock, (I know you were waiting for this) was unimpressive, barely over the six inch mark and thin enough for me to comfortably get my hand around. And it has a kink to the left about three quarters of the way down. By all current standards and any standards from the past I can think of, my dad was not a pretty man. Not even close to handsome.

But I loved him with all my heart.

I sank down and pressed my dad's hardness into me. Pussy was more than ready. I grabbed Dad's head between my hands and pulled him to me as I eased down. Our gasps forced us both to break our kiss. God! This felt fabulous, why did I ever doubt Pussy? I lifted myself up and down, squeezing Dad and milking his cock. God! Even Dad's kink to the left felt wonderful, special, just right.

I expected Dad to cum pretty quickly. I didn't expect to. I felt nervous, excited, afraid, dirty, a sinner, a whore. Pussy didn't feel any of those things. Pussy was hot, wet and raring to go. As I said, I was mostly just along for the ride, and oh what a ride.