My Daughter's Secret Diary

I sighed as I pushed open the door to my daughter's room. Clothes were piled everywhere, books lay scattered across the floor, and a half-eaten pizza slice sat on the nightstand, its greasy cardboard box open beside it. Her bed was a mess: sheets tangled in knots, pillows buried under piles of clothes, and her comforter hanging halfway to the floor. A faint scent of strawberry vape hung in the air, cutting through the stale smell of dirty laundry and day-old pizza. Her room was always like this--she was too busy with med school to bother cleaning up. I understood; being a university student grinding through exams while stuck living at home because rent was too expensive didn't leave much room for anything else.

Breathing deeply, I decided to start with the bookcase and began picking up the books lying on the floor. As I read the titles, I couldn't help but raise an eyebrow.

Captive in the Dark? Haunting Adeline? Feathers So Vicious?

These weren't the kinds of books my daughter usually read. A strange mix of curiosity and concern crept over me. Was she trying out new genres, or was there something more she wasn't telling me? The thought left a knot in my stomach--I was starting to wonder just how well I knew my daughter.

'Alright, let's clean this up,' I muttered, trying to ignore my worries and just focus on the task at hand. I began organizing the books on the shelf, working methodically from left to right. But as I pushed the last pile into place, I felt the bookcase wobble. 'Oh shit!' I gasped, reaching out to steady it--but it was too late. With a loud crash, the bookcase tipped over, slamming to the floor and shaking the entire house as books flew in all directions.

As I knelt to pick up the books, something caught my eye--a small leather-bound journal that had been hidden under the bookcase. I gently lifted it, wiping away the dust to reveal the gold embossed title:

My Secret Diary.

I paused, running my thumb over the worn cover. I knew I shouldn't open it, but the worried father in me couldn't resist. What if she was in trouble? What if this was her way of asking for help? I glanced at the clock--still an hour and a half before she'd be home.

'I'm sorry, darling,' I said softly, my voice filled with remorse as I opened the diary to the first page. My hands shook slightly as I held my daughter's most private thoughts, and with a nervous gulp, I began to read.

My Secret Diary

August 1st. I'm 21 now. Officially an adult. But most days, I don't feel like one. I just feel... lost. My parents are always on my back, expecting me to have perfect grades and follow in their footsteps at the hospital. Dad's the head of cardiology, and Mom's a renowned surgeon. Meanwhile, here I am, struggling through biochemistry and having panic attacks before every exam.

It's all too fucking much, so I started seeing a therapist a few weeks ago, right after summer break began. I thought it would help me deal with... everything. But honestly? I don't think I'm getting anywhere with therapy. There are just some things I can't admit. I look at my therapist, and I know he's judging me. He thinks I'm fucking disgusting. And the truth is, I feel disgusting...

I mean, it's obscene. The thoughts I'm having. The feelings I have. I just... I wish they'd stop, but if anything, they're getting worse. Every day, it's like they're getting stronger. The things I think about... I don't want to think about them anymore. I know it's wrong. I know it's so taboo. I know that, but I'm trying so hard. I just can't get anywhere with therapy, so maybe writing it down will help me.

I guess it all started about a year ago. It was my father's birthday, and I didn't know what to buy. The only thing I could think of was underwear. Mom always says guys never buy underwear for themselves, so I got him some. I didn't know what size he was, so I told him to try them on to check, and if they didn't fit right, I would've bought a different size. It was totally innocent.

But then he walked out of his bedroom wearing nothing but his underwear. I couldn't take my eyes off his cock. Even flaccid, it was huge. Like, seriously massive. It was bulging out of his boxer briefs--I just couldn't believe it.

I eventually managed to look away. I told him they were a very good fit, but I was so distracted all day. Like, my pussy was wet all day. I mean, that night, I dreamt of riding my dad's cock. How disgusting is that? My pussy was so wet, and... I know, it's disgusting. Just writing these words in my diary feels revolting. A daughter fucking her own father... it's so taboo.

And every day things just get worse. I've been like this for over a year now. His birthday's coming up again, and I don't even know what to do. I mean, I've started wearing tiny skirts and tight tops with no underwear--no panties--and bending over in front of him.

I mean, what do I expect? My father to just bend me over and fuck me in the kitchen? But it's all I can think about when everybody leaves the house. When my mom leaves for work, I just masturbate all the time thinking of my daddy. My pussy is just so raw. I fingerfuck myself at least five times a day and it's all because of him.

I even caught my dad in the shower one time. I pretended I didn't know he was in there. Of course, I waited. He was completely naked, and he was jerking off. I saw how big his hard cock is, and I just couldn't believe it. It's bigger than I could have ever possibly imagined. And I'm obsessed. I'm obsessed with seeing my father's cock. I'm obsessed with dreaming about fucking him, and I just... I need help. I mean, I know he doesn't think of me in this way. Or maybe he does? No, he can't possibly fancy his own daughter. I don't even know how I would talk to him about this. I don't want to ask him.

I know I would be able to please him so much better than anybody else. Surely, my pussy would be the best for him to fuck. It makes perfect sense. He made me. He's mine. I don't want him to fuck anybody else. Just thinking about him fucking someone else makes me so goddamn jealous.

I know it's so disgusting, but I just wonder. Would he like me to be his filthy little whore? I'm just dying to go downstairs when he's eating breakfast, bend over, and tell him to fuck me right there on the kitchen table, to use me however the fuck he wants. That he doesn't need any other girl because he's got me. I actually felt a tingle in my pussy writing this. Just the thought of him cumming inside me gets my pussy so wet.

August 9th. I can't stop thinking about him. Every time he's near me, my heart beats faster and my pussy throbs. I know it's so wrong, but I can't help it. His veiny forearms, his strong hands... the way his voice deepens when he talks to me. It's like I'm hypnotized by him, wanting him in ways I can't explain. I want to be the reason his cock gets hard, to know that my body is what he craves. I want to hear him moan my name in that deep, husky voice that drives me wild. I want to be his and his alone.

August 12th. I caught myself daydreaming about my dad again today. The way he looks at me, the way he smiles... it's like he knows my every dirty thought. I want him like I've never wanted anyone before. I dream about his rough hands grabbing my hips, his fingers leaving marks on my skin as he squeezes me tight. The thought of him overpowering me, stretching me wide open as his cock thrusts deep into my pussy drives me crazy. I want to be impaled on his cock, to feel his hips slamming against mine, the weight of his body pinning me down on the kitchen table as he rails my cunt without mercy.

I crave the feel of his hand squeezing my throat, cutting off my air supply just enough to make my head spin. All I want is to be dominated, to be taken so hard and aggressively by my daddy. I need him to fuck me like he owns me. I want to feel the sting of his belt across my ass. I want to be told how filthy I am, how no one else would want me, that I'm nothing but a hole to be fucked and used. The dirtier the words, the more my pussy throbs.

I fantasize about the sounds he would make, the deep groans and moans. I can almost hear his growls and his hot breath against my skin. I swear, sometimes I can almost feel the warmth of his cum spreading through me when I close my eyes. I can even hear our bodies slapping against each other echoing in my room at night. I think I'm going crazy. Yeah, I might be losing it...

I want to be his little fucktoy, his cumslut, existing only to please him in any way he wants. Being my father's little whore, begging on my hands and knees for his cock and his cum. I want him to use me, to ruin me, to degrade me in every possible way. I want to surrender my mind, my body, and my soul to him. My very existence belongs to him.

I feel so filthy for having these forbidden thoughts. I know I'm a dirty, disgusting slut, but I can't help it. The more I try to suppress these taboo urges, the stronger they become. It's like a fire burning inside me, and the flames only seem to grow brighter every day.

And as much as I try to deny it or push it away, the truth is--I fucking crave it. I need it. And my panties are soaked again... I must go to bed... I have to wake up early tomorrow.

August 16th. I need to stop masturbating over my Daddy... It's just not right. But my pussy gets so wet whenever I think of him. Whenever I think about his big hard cock spreading my pussy open, sucking on my tits... I know I'd be able to please him. He just makes me so horny.

I know he would want to taste my pussy. All of his daughter's sweet creamy pussy juice. I know he would just love it. I know it's so wrong... And it's just getting worse. I need to stop masturbating over my Daddy.

I can't do this anymore. The only thing I haven't tried is telling him how I feel. Of course, he's going to be disgusted. He's not going to want to fuck his own daughter, surely. He knows it's so wrong; I know it's so wrong. It's so taboo... But maybe?

I don't know, I just... I need to pull myself together. I can't think about my father like this. I can't keep dreaming about fucking him. Something must happen... Something needs to be done. I think maybe confessing to him is the way to go... Maybe he has some advice for me. Maybe he's thought about me in this way too.

Well, this diary seems to be helpful. The more I write, the clearer my mind becomes. I can feel the weight lifting off my chest a little bit. It's like I'm finally able to see through all the fog in my head. It feels good to be making progress at least. Yes, I know exactly what I want now.

The question is, will I ever find the courage to turn my fantasies into reality?

I closed the journal, my hands shaking so badly I almost dropped it. My throat was dry, my chest tight, as if the air had been sucked out of the room. I grabbed the water bottle on her desk and gulped it down, barely noticing the warm, stale taste. It did nothing to calm me, nothing to slow the thoughts racing through my mind or to ease the discomfort of my painful erection now pressing against my pants.

I can't unread this. This is wrong. This is so wrong. But my body didn't care. My cock was leaking precum and forming a wet spot on my boxers that was impossible to ignore. I slammed the water bottle down on the desk in anger. I couldn't think straight, couldn't breathe. All I could feel was the pounding of my heart and the throbbing of my cock. Stop thinking about it. Stop feeling this.

But I couldn't. I couldn't unread what I'd seen or unknow what I now knew. I had an erection for my own daughter, and I hated myself for it. I looked at the clock--she'd be home in less than thirty minutes, and I had no idea what to do. How could I look her in the eyes and pretend everything was fine, as if I hadn't just invaded her privacy and discovered... this?

I took a deep breath and tried to calm myself down. I needed help. I needed someone to talk to. I picked up my phone and dialed the number of the therapist I'd seen in the past. The line rang and a calm voice answered on the other end.

"Hi, yes," I stuttered, my voice cracking. "I need to schedule an appointment. As soon as possible. Tonight, if you have an opening."

To be continued...