I would like to preface this story saying all characters are 18+. Also, this story is pure fiction and written solely as a fantasy/roleplay/enjoyment story, not as a stamp of approval on incest. In real life, incest is gross and wrong (I think we can all agree that isn't kink-shaming, right?), but there ain't nothing wrong with a fun little fantasy. So, without further ado, have fun and I hope you enjoy!
*
"Okay, honey, we'll see you guys in two weeks! We love you!" I watched as my mom's hand slipped out the door as she watched goodbye. She and my brother are flying to London today; his team qualified for some big soccer event there, but my mom didn't want to leave me alone for two weeks.
I turn around, hopping up on the counter, and continue licking my peanut butter spoon. My dad, James, is leaning against the fridge with a sullen look on his face.
"Don't frown like that, Daddy," I hope off the counter and step beside him. "You're too handsome for wrinkles," I cheekily say, bopping him on the nose.
He chuckles, looking down at me with his dark green eyes. Between my parents, I'd say I resemble my dad more. We share brown hair, but his is more of a dark honey brown whereas mine is a rich chestnut.
The similarities end there, though. Dad has those almost thin emerald gems, and I have big brown eyes. Dad has a tall, toned, and tanned frame, and I'm skinny and pale.
However, I share no qualities with my mom, who looks like a Viking: she's muscular, strikingly blonde, blue-eyed, and tall. My brother looks like her, burly and blonde, but he shares Daddy's eyes.
Me, though, I'm like the black sheep. I'm not short, but my 5'7 has nothing on my Mom's 5'11. My dark brown hair is fairly straight and reaches mid-back. I rarely cut it, simply due to laziness, but I get around to it when I see split ends. My friends refer to my body as "slim thicc," making sure I know the thicc is with two c's.
Personally, I think I'm just on the thin side but blessed with a few curves to soften the impact when I fall. My 34B cup tits are a little less than a handful, but my ass makes up for them. Perhaps cosmically, my mother's complete lack of curves balanced out into my lightly flared hips and round, jiggly ass.
"So," I awkwardly say, not sure how to handle his sadness, "wanna watch a movie?"
He nods, and I pepper him with questions about what movie he wants to watch while he pops popcorn.
Eventually, he settles on one of the crappy zombie movies he likes. I was really scared of them when I was young, and he finally gave up when I was 8, but I'm sure my decade-wiser self can handle a shitty sci-fi about something that isn't real.
An hour and two bowls of popcorn later, I'm regretting my choice. The jump-scares and flesh-eating is gory and freaky, and the main love interest got eaten in her sleep. I wrap the blanket around myself even tighter.
Dad seems to notice how freaked out I am and turns off the tv. "I'm sorry, sweetie, I forgot how much you hate this stuff."
He looks at the microwave, then says, "Tell you what, it's already 11:40. How about we call it a night?" I nod thankfully and vigorously, trying not to look too spooked.
Bed turned out to be a big mistake— lying awake, worried about every passing wind or creak. Sleep eluded me, and around 2:30 am, I get up, throw on a t-shirt (I sleep naked, but sometimes I wear panties and a t-shirt) and some boxers, then head down the hall to Dad's room.
I knock lightly, pushing the already open door back a few inches, peering inside. My dad is rolled onto his right side, breathing deeply and evenly. I climb in bed and my jostling wakes him.
"Annie, baby, is that you?" He wipes his eyes, trying to clear the sleep from them.
I snuggle under the covers, about a foot between me and my dad. "Yeah, it's me. I can't sleep."
"Okay," he nods back to sleep, muttering "sorry" before sleep takes over entirely.
About ten minutes pass, and I match my breathing to his own deep ones. At some point, I fall asleep, too."
*
I awaken to jostling in bed, thinking it might be my wife, but then I see a dark topknot as opposed to my wife's short, blonde hair.
"Annie, baby, is that you?" I mutter groggily, wiping my tired eyes.
There's more jostling as Annie gets under the covers, saying, "Yeah, it's me. I can't sleep."
I feel guilty and try to apologize, but my head just feels so heavy, so I put it back on the pillow, and it's lights out.
For the second time in the very early day, I'm woken my Annie. I roll, see my phone says it's 4:25, and drag a weary hand across my tired face.
Annie's loud whimpering and movement re-captures my attention, and I remember the reason I'm able to look at my phone this early. I scoot a bit loser, then tuck the blankets around her.
Her movements ease and, after about 15 minutes, she's almost entirely still. I lie back down, thinking this is the best I can do, then return to a peaceful slumber.
*
I slowly open my eyes, feeling well-rested and cozy. Oh, well, at least I got a good few hours.
I go to stretch my body before I realize the reason I feel cozy is because my father's big, warm body is holstered against me. At some point, we both rolled onto our right sides and he caged me in.
His heavy, somewhat hairy arm is ensuring my upper body can't move, wrapped over my left arm and torso and around my ribcage on my right side.
His huge leg is trapping my right, because my lower half is in the position I normally contort into during sleep. Usually, I sleep on either side with my tog leg slung up so my hips are almost parallel to the mattress, and my upper torso is usually tilted sideways.
Dad seems really comfortable, lightly snoring in contentment. I feel bad, I should just let him sleep. If I could just maneuver slightly into a more comfortable position, I think I could fall back asleep, too.
I try to slip my arm out from under his own, but this just succeeds in mine getting trapped on my side. i decide that I'll move my legs instead, but my shifting jostles Dad.
Oh, no. I stop moving, trying not to wake him. Dad sleeps a lot and heavily; he'll be grumpy if he doesn't get a few more hours.
Dad shifts around some more, pulling my body flush against his own. Oh! A thick, heavy weight settled against my ass, and he murmurs gibberish as he presses harder against me. While his lower half was settling down, and up, his hand found its way up to my boob, cupping it.
I still entirely, not sure what to do. He'll be so embarrassed if I wake him up.
I decide to lie there until he's deep sleeping again, then I'll move his hand and wake him up.
While I'm waiting, my heart pounding heavily, I notice my nipple is hardening in his grip. What the heck? This is my Dad.
Now that I notice my own arousal, I realize I can feel some wetness gathering in my shorts. Oh, no. My horny teenage body is just reacting to having a male wrap himself around me.
As I lie here, contemplating why existing is the worst possible thing in this moment, I can't help but feel a burning sensation in my clit.
My vagina feels alive, heavy and hot with my own arousal. I flick my hips unintentionally to relieve some of the heat in my clit, but I just end up grinding back against my Dad's hardening dick.
It swells against my cheeks, and I repeat the movement as the tip settles in the valley between my legs. I rock back harder, testing to see if this disturbs him.
