This is my first time with a Daddy/Daughter story. This story hit my head and I couldn't get it out. I will only do Daddy/Daughter stories with the (mature) daughter making all the seductive moves. A man in a position of power seems too rapey for me.
I hope you'll take the time to read. All persons involved in sexual activities are 18 years and older. Please rate and comment however you see it. Thank you. And, yes, I see myself as the asshole dad in this story. :)
**** **** **** **** **** ****
Prologue:
"Do you want to play, daddy?" I said and put my index finger slowly in my mouth and sucked the tip.
He turned quickly away, diverting his eyes. "Ali, what the hell is wrong with you? Why are you dressed like this in front of me?"
"What? This thing? I wanna be comfortable. What wrong with it?"
"You're practically naked. Go get dressed."
I walked over to him, placed my hands on his shoulders, and began massaging him. "Remember what happened last time you said I was almost naked?" I asked and paused letting him mull it over. "Come on, daddy. Come play with me." I ran my hand down his chest, under his shirt, through his thick hair, and made little circles around his nipples with my fingernails.
He grabbed my hand but didn't try to remove it. He sat for several seconds before speaking. "Honey, I don't know what to say," he said softly. "I'm torn. You're so sexy. Any man would be lucky to have you. But I'm not any man. I'm your dad."
"Wait. What? You think I want to have sex with you?" I asked in a sexy voice. "Don't be creepy. It's just a game, daddy. You can choose the game. Remember how you used to play Candyland with me? Want to play Candyland now?" I asked and ran my other hand through his thick head of hair.
"Oh, God," he sighed. He knew what I wanted. "If you only knew," he whispered.
"Knew what, daddy?"
"First, I haven't had ... um ... I haven't played 'Candyland' for a long time, sweetie," he said with air quotes and a shaky voice. I saw a tear trickle down his cheek.
"It's just a game, daddy. You'll remember how to play."
"Can we be honest, Ali. I know you're trying to get me to fuck you."
"Daddy! That's creepy," I lied. God damn, yes, of course, I want to fuck him. "I just want to play Candyland."
He turned and amazingly looked me in the eyes with laser focus. "Ali, you know your mother and I haven't had sex for a long time. I appreciate what you're doing, but I can't. No matter how much she cheats, I can't just have sex with you."
**** **** **** **** **** ****
Rewind two weeks.
For as long as I can remember, my dad has been an asshole. He was never home. He treated mom like she was his sex slave -- at least that's what she says. She says she's just a series of holes for dad to fuck, be it her mouth, pussy, or asshole.
As for me, he's never been a good dad. He doesn't care about me. Sure, I've always had a place to live, food to eat, clothes to wear, and plenty of money to spend. But where my friends have a daddy, I have a dad. He's never been to a daddy-daughter date, dance, or anything. He just comes home -- when he's home -- and plops down in his chair and watches sports.
He seems to be gone more than he's home. Mom doesn't even try to hide her affairs from me anymore. I knew she was cheating but now she brings the men home and fucks them in her marriage bed sometimes. I don't like it when she does that, but dad deserves it. If he would take care of her, she wouldn't have to fuck other guys to meet her sexual needs.
I guess I can't say he's always been an asshole. I remember when I was young, I thought dad was the best. Like most little girls, dad was my first hero. He was always home, and he loved playing dress-up with me. He would let me put pretty bows in his hair and paint his face with gaudy makeup. He would laugh and smile, hug and kiss me, and gave me all the attention I wanted. He even taught me how to shave my face with foam and the backside of a comb. He was my hero and I adored him.
Then something changed. We moved into a bigger, nicer house, and he wasn't home as much. Mom, on the other hand, started spending more time at home when dad was gone more. Mom wasn't as fun as dad, but he wasn't home as much, and when he was, he was always too tired to play.
I remember when I turned ten and dad missed my birthday party because he was out of town. That's the first time I remember mom talking about him being a bad father. "What kind of father misses his baby's birthday?" she asked me. Dad became my enemy that day. He came home the next day and gave me my birthday present. I wouldn't talk to him I was so mad.
When I was fifteen, I asked mom why she didn't leave him. She told me she was staying for me, that no matter how much of an asshole dad was, I deserved to grow up with a mom AND dad. I admired her staying in a loveless marriage to make life better. Mom was always willing to sacrifice for me. What has dad ever done?
This went on and on over the years until I graduated high school and started college. Dad and I grew apart more and more until we stopped talking unless it was absolutely necessary. It was rarely necessary. He always told me he'd saved for my college, but mom told me he was just trying to buy my love. Good thing I earned a scholarship and didn't need his manipulative money.
That's the past. On to the present.
**** **** **** **** ****
One day I felt sick, so I stayed home from school. I wasn't really sick. I stayed out with my friends too late and didn't get enough sleep. But fuck it. I'm a good student with good grades, and if I flashed some boob to the professor, he'd let me make up the missed day. I slept in and didn't wake up until after one o'clock. I was feeling quite lazy, but I knew I had to do my laundry.
Having the house to myself, I didn't worry about putting on real clothes. I was wearing a cute little nightshirt that barely covered my mostly bare ass, thong covered pussy, and was so thin, my nipples were not only visible, but they also poked out little tents. I grabbed my laundry basket and scampered out to the hall, down the stairs, through the kitchen, and into the laundry room.
I put my whites in, started the water, and was ready to head back upstairs. Then I heard someone in the house. Mom was usually at the spa and dad was supposed to be at work. I went to the door and listened to see if I could tell where the noise was coming from. I opened the door slowly and peeked around the corner. I could now hear dad talking from the family room.
"Where are you?" he asked. "You know we're supposed to have a dinner date? I don't give a fuck what you have to do with that bitch. Fuck her. She is a bitch. She fucks with you and she fucks with me."
Dad was clearly pissed at whomever he was talking to. He never raises his voice but when he gets pissed, he has a tighter cadence in his words. It sounded like he was talking to someone at work.
He sat silent for a moment listening. "Bullshit. I'm looking at the app right now. Listen, if you spend any more money, I swear to God I'm divorcing your ass."
"Oh, my God," I gasped quietly. "He's talking to mom. What an asshole," I said softly. "He treats her like shit then threatens divorce if she spends his precious money."
In all my life, dad has never talked to me about mom and their relationship. I'd asked him questions based on the stuff mom told me, but he would always tell me it was rude to gossip. Any answer I ever got out of him was lies telling me how much he loved her and cared about her. He always said he loved me and cared about me too, so I knew he was lying.
"What're you talking about?" he raised his voice a touch. "I take care of her. I pay for all her shit, her clothes, her weekends with her friends, her car, her gas."
"Fuckin liar," I whispered as I shook my head. "Mom takes care of all that shit."
"No," he continued. "I'm not helping her with her homework. She treats me like shit. She doesn't even talk to me." He paused. "I do try. She either ignores me or she parades around in skimpy clothes just to get on my nerves."
I had to giggle at that. Dad is always complaining about my "morality" and telling me I'm gonna get pregnant and shit. He hates that I wear tiny shorts, crop tops, miniskirts, and sometimes, just my bra and panties around him. I make sure I show him plenty of tits and ass without exposing my nipples or my vag. God, he gets so angry at me.
"Of course, babe. I've always done my best for you and Ali. I always will. She's an adult now so you have no reason to stay with me. I'm tired of supporting you while you do nothing but spend my money."
