My Father My Lover

DISCLAIMER:

This story is a work of fiction and contains descriptions of explicit sexual acts. It contains graphic scenes of sex between these two adults.

...If this type of content offends you or you are under the age of 18 do not read it.

If it is illegal to read such material where you live or if you find the topic distasteful then please leave now.

This work was produced by an adult.

This story is the property of the author. It can be downloaded for personal reading pleasure or sending to friends, but if you wish to repost them at your own site, please contact the author for permission.

If you enjoy the story or if it evokes memories of your own, please let me know.

*****

My Father - My Husband

My name is Tiffany, I am 38, I'm a successful lawyer in California, I am 5'6" tall, I have a rather round face, riveting brown eyes and very sensual lips. My hair color is light brown and my hair falls to my shoulders. My figure is pleasant, I suppose, at 36B, 24, 38 and my most striking feature, aside from my eyes are my legs which are long and pleasantly shaped. I live a rather ordinary life except for the fact that I am married to my father, Daniel. It's not as strange as it may seem at first, so let me explain:

As I was growing up my family life was very average. Dad worked as an aerospace engineer for a company in Long Beach, CA. My mom was a school teacher who taught fifth grade and each of my two sisters (Angela and Bethany) and I sat through mom's class in order. Angela is the oldest, she is now 44, Bethany is the middle child, she is 40, and then there is me.

Growing up we thought we were an average family, but as my sisters and I got older we realized that our family was the most loving we knew of. This was especially true of the devotion of our parents for each other. It was truly amazing. It seemed that they had fallen in love with each other in high school, followed each other to college at San Diego State University, and then settled down in Long Beach to raise their family and enjoy life.

As each of the girls grew up we moved on somewhere for work or family. Angela moved to Casper, WY when she married Carl and they started raising children, cattle, and horses. Bethany moved to New York City after getting her drama degree and I eventually settled down in Fresno after graduating from Stanford Law and passing the bar exam.

I was the daughter who interacted most with mom and dad and when mom took sick, I was the one close enough to be with them. We always say "mom got sick," but the truth is that she developed a brain tumor when she was 55 and for about 18 months I watched my dad nurse her and pray for her, and slowly fall into depression and despair as mom's condition worsened.

When mom died, I contacted the girls and we all gathered at dad's place to help with the funereal and household chores. The house, always spotless while mom was alive, had degenerated into a really messy house with frozen food boxes left in the living room and the laundry room full of clothing. My sisters and I pitched right in and straightened the house for dad, but also for mom, as the last thing she would have wanted was for anyone to see her house in less than spotless condition and there would be the usual round of neighbor and friend visits.

While cleaning up mom's stuff I found a letter, in her handwriting, addressed to me. Seeing it, and not seeing any other letters addressed to my sisters made me quite curious about what it was mom felt she had to say to just me. I opened the letter to read:

Tiffany,

I wanted you to know how much your love and devotion to me have meant over the years. All of the girls have shown us the love that I guess your dad and I taught you, but you have always been here and have always given quite freely of yourself to us. Perhaps it was because you were the youngest, and so were the last one to live with us, perhaps it was that you never married, and so we remained your primary family, or maybe it was just because you were always our favorite. (Don't you DARE tell your sisters I said that, we parents aren't supposed to have favorites.)

Anyway, I have a problem and I am hoping you can help me with it. You see, your father and I have always been ... well ... US. We fell in love with each other in high school, lost our virginity to each other at our junior prom (yes dear, your parents had a very full and pleasant sex life) and lived pretty much exactly the life we talked about when we dated.

But, this is now a problem. Your father will not do well alone and I know he will not easily find another woman to date, but he won't be happy alone at all. So, as the closest daughter in so many ways, (You look most like me, you have my personality, and you live only four hours away) I am going to ask you to take more time out of your life to make sure that your father doesn't let himself go now that he is alone.

I am asking this of you my dear for his sake as much as for mine. I don't want to go, knowing that Dan will have a pathetic life and that I have failed him by dying young.

So, I am hoping that you can be the one to keep him going. Make sure he continues going out to dinner, movies, dancing, and especially sailing as these were our principal pleasures and make sure he finds a woman who really cares for him so he can continue to have all the pleasures that life offers. Do this, dearest Tiffany, for me.

Love

Mom

I was crying by the time I reached the end of the letter. It isn't everyday that a girl gets to find out that her parents had been fucking since they were 16 and that evidently mom and dad had a very active sex life. But, most importantly, I had just discovered that they were just as much in love the day mom died as they had been at their junior prom. Perhaps some of my tears were for me as I had never been able to have that kind of relationship with anyone. Certainly I had had boyfriends, and a couple of girlfriends in my life, but none of those relationships had ever reached the kind of oh-my-god-I-love-you stage that mom and dad shared.

Drying my eyes I hid mom's letter in my jeans and finished cleaning their room up. My mind was working overtime, not only learning more about the kind of life my parents had had, but also realizing how much I loved both of them, and now only dad was left to shower that love on. I vowed to myself to make dad's life as rich as I could.

Following the funereal Angela and Bethany returned home and I modified my work schedule at the firm. I opted for flex time working Monday - Thursday, about twelve hours a day and then taking off on Friday through Sunday to be with dad. I could take much of my work home with me on my laptop and so I wasn't going to get behind on my casework. After all, moving up to the partnership was as much a factor of billable hours as case-winning.

The first couple of trips to Long Beach didn't go so well. Dad was glad to see me and the state of his house certainly attested to his depressed feelings. He was eating poorly and drinking a lot more than was his usual. The fact that he wasn't even hiding the bottles made it worse as I knew that he didn't care that I knew. I would clean up his house, take him out to dinner, bowling, or once to a movie, and he seemed to enjoy my company. This routine continued for about three months and although dad seemed to enjoy my visits, he would mope around all Sunday as he knew I was going back to Fresno in the evening.

I was sitting at my desk one Wednesday trying to think of a way to brighten up the weekend for dad when I had an inspiration. I called him at work and told him, "Dad, I am officially inviting you on a date this weekend. We will get a hotel in Santa Monica. We will have dinner at the Boa Steakhouse, and then we are going dancing on the Pier." Dad tried to make up excuses, but I was adamant. "I am making plane reservations now and you pick me up at 8:00 tomorrow night for our date. Pack your blue suit, because we are going to make a real weekend out of this. I hope The Madeline (the family boat, named after mom) is ready for sea because I want to spend an entire day and night away from every stress." I could tell that dad was becoming interested finally. He agreed and I completed the reservations.

I sent an e-mail to my boss telling him I would not be back next week, I was taking a week's' vacation, but that I was taking all my case work with me so that I would still be ready for court the following Monday.

I knew that dad needed to be brought back to life and I figured that being out with a beautiful woman, even his daughter, would contribute to that. So I went to the beauty parlor and got a make-over, went to Macy's and bought a killer JS Collections sleeveless, strapless, Empire waist high - low hem evening gown. It was just the sort of dress that showed off my figure perfectly and was well worth the $199.00 I paid for it. I added a pair of red Marc Fischer terri pumps to my evening ensemble.

At home I packed up my suitcase for the week taking my prettiest bikini, some shorts, slacks and jewelry to show off that new dress. I was going to remind dad that he was still alive and get him to care again, no matter what.

Thursday afternoon I was dressed in my new evening gown, shoes, silver heart and pearl necklace with matching dangling earrings. I knew I had done a great job by watching the eyes of all of the men, and many of the women, in the airport, following me as I walked, dragging my small blue suitcase behind me, to the gate. Oh, what a feeling that is, to know that people find you desirable and attractive. NOW, how do give some of that to Dad?

The trip itself was uneventful and I was just a bit worried that the cramped little seats on that commuter jet would ruin my dress, but I did the best I could to preserve it. Luckily, we weren't on the ground long before I was able to get up. I walked into the ladies room and inspected the outfit. Not perfect, but certainly still in good shape. Walking out of the gate area I spotted my dad.

Dad had gotten into the spirit of our "date." He was wearing his best blue stripped suit; he had been to the barber and had a fresh shave and haircut. I also noticed him wearing a new sky-blue shirt and a yellow and silver stripped tie. I could tell by the look on his face that even my father appreciated the outfit I was wearing, and my stride became more confident as I approached him. "Dad, you old dog, you look devastating." I told him as I hugged him with my left arm and I planted a kiss on his cheek. I could smell his cologne and the pleasant and well-known musk smell got my attention, hmm, nice to be turned on by a guy, even if it is your dad, I thought.. The twinkle in his eye was wonderful to see and I was glad I had decided to have this date.

When we left the airport I was looking for the Buick, but dad ushered me to a burgundy limousine waiting. "You wanted a date, so I thought we would do it up right." Dad smiled as he told me. I laughed quietly as I realized that my dad was still capable of some little surprises himself. He held the door for me as I entered and the driver closed it after dad entered.

"To the Hotel," dad instructed the driver, and with a monosyllabic answer the driver started away from the airport. Dad and I made small talk as we drank the champagne he had ordered for us. The driver opened the door and immediately the bell-man jumped to get our luggage. "If sir and madam will follow me, we can get you checked in," he announced. We walked to the counter and dad announced the reservation for Stevens. The clerk checked the reservation and our drivers' licenses, smiled and said. "Welcome to the Fairmont Miramar, Mr. and Mrs. Stevens, we hope you enjoy your stay here.

Dad started to correct the clerk, but I put my hand on his and said. "Dan, let's not bother this man with any unnecessary details. We wanted this weekend for just ourselves, remember." Dad seemed confused for a moment, but then smiled and took my hand in his as we headed for the room. "You have never ceased to amaze me," he said as he looked into my eyes.

I realized that I was more than a little turned on. OMG, this is my dad. OK, I have got to get a grip on myself. Good thing that dad will not realize that I am becoming turned on and so nothing will happen.

Dinner was superb. The driver opening the door and dad and I got out to the stares of most of the patrons. I could tell that dad was really enjoying the admiring stares of all of those people as he escorted a very young and rather beautiful lady to his table. For my part, I was really getting into being escorted by an evidently well-to-do gentleman who knew how to treat a lady. In fact, it was the best date I'd been on in several years as dad held my chair as I sat, asked what I wanted, ordered drinks and dinner for us, and we settled down for a wonderful meal.

Following dinner, and several drinks, dad and I went out to the pier for dancing. As dad and I moved together I felt a stirring in myself that was pleasant, if a bit disconcerting, given that I was dancing with my father, but as the night continued, I just flowed with it. At midnight, they announced a last waltz and the band played "Ashoken Farewell," one of the songs my dad and I shared since I was a little girl.

My body flowed with dad's and I let myself float into the dance. We were partners, more than a couple, we were two people whose love for the dance itself, and for each other made us a fluid dancing machine. As the music stopped, with its last plaintive call, I moved towards dad and kissed him. My lips touched his and he opened his lips to accept my tongue and I kissed him passionately, he was a man and I a woman, and the evening, and the song had melded us into a couple.

Dad opened his eyes as my lips retreated from his. "Tiff, that was quite a kiss, should I assume you only mistakenly kissed me that way, or does this signify something else?"

I started to stutter. Was it all the alcohol we had consumed? Was this just some physical need to find out what my mother had, that I had never found? What had I meant? I tried to sort all my thoughts before I spoke. I looking into his blue eyes, those eyes that had watched over me all of my childhood, the eyes that had helped me grow up and become the woman I am, the eyes that had cried and cheered for me at graduation, and the eyes that now looked at me for an answer. It took me a moment, and then I placed my lips back on his. This kiss lasted longer and our bodies closed with each other and I felt my nipples hardening as I pressed them against his body and my womanhood moistening at the gentle caress of his thigh. "Dad," I began.

He started to laugh, "Tiff, if you are going to kiss me like that, and if we are going to do all the things I think we are about to do, you are going to have to start calling me Dan, or Daniel. For what it is worth, I love you Tiffany, not love like a parent, but love. You don't have to do anything and I realize that what we have started tonight is not conventional, just please don't hate me.

All of a sudden I knew why I had never been able to fall for anyone else. I have been in love with Daniel all this time. I smiled at my new lover. "Daniel, would you please take me to the hotel and fuck me royally."

He smiled, "I seem to have gotten myself into the clutches of a foul-mouthed nymphomaniac." I will be very happy to take you to our hotel room and to fuck you, and make gentle love to you all night. I just hope you are prepared for this. It has been a very long time for me, you know."

I smiled, "Daniel," I haven't had sex in two years, so we are probably in the same boat. Let's go to the hotel and consummate these feelings we have for each other."

Daniel kicked the door open and swung me into the room. We were kissing before the door closed and I was as hungry to get his clothes off as he was to get mine out of the way. As he lowered the zipper of my dress and it fell to my feet. My breasts were exposed and his hands moved up to them and cupped them from underneath as his kisses moved from my lips to my throat.

The feel of his tongue on my throat made me quiver. His tongue lingering over my artery, feeling him press against the very heartbeat that was calling his name drove me to ecstasy. My fingers fumbled with his belt and zipper until I finally exposed his cock. I let my right hand circle it as my left hand reached down to cup his balls. He moaned into my neck as we fell to the bed.

We landed with him on top of me and without even thinking I guided his cock into my desperate pussy. The head of his cock began to spread my lips and my legs were spread, knees up to give him access. He stopped and I could feel his body quivering with the effort at restraint, he was almost, not quite fucking me. I looked up and my eyes must have echoed my question. "Because, dear heart, I don't want to lose you by making love to you," was his statement.

My answer was to press up with my pelvis until I had shoved myself over his cock and my pelvis was pressed against his with his balls slapping my ass. "Now, Daniel. I think you know how I feel about this, so FUCK ME."

Daniel fucked me, oh how he fucked me. He started with slow, long-drawn strokes of his cock in my pussy as his fingers teased, then pulled my pink nipples. He was like an orchestra conductor, playing my body as a complex instrument for our mutual pleasure. He would pull on my nipples and listen to my gasp and moan as he did, then release them and let his lips and tongue massage them. All the while we were moving together until I reached my first orgasm.

Daniel plunged himself into me as he felt my orgasm start. Fully impaled on him he moved his pelvis against my clit drawing every possible sensation out of me as I came. His fingers were teasing my nipples as he ground his pelvis into my clit and his cock filled me. Slowly my orgasm subsided and I felt him move out of me.

I tried to keep his cock in, but he was faster than my orgasm-numbed mind and the next thing I felt was his tongue opening my lips to tease me. Daniel was an expert cunnilingist. He let his tongue move up the left lip as his nose teased my already excited clit. His hands massaged my breasts and he used my overly-sensitive nipples to full advantage. Sucking and licking my clit, he drove me over the edge again and again. As soon as one orgasm would begin to subside, he would drive me to another until I felt I couldn't cum again.

Then I felt the bed shift and Daniel's cock once again entered me. This time I fucked him. For all he had just given me, I wanted to give him something in return. I moved my pussy up and down his cock as my ankles locked behind the small of his back. I brought my mouth to his left nipple and bit down on it as I felt his cock begin to throb and realized that he was cumming inside me. That realization took me over the edge again and both of us moved against each other trying to prolong our mutual orgasm.

Daniel rolled off of me and I shifted to snuggle against this man who was the greatest lover I had ever had. Listening to his breathing soon had me sleeping and the evening ended with me wrapped around my lover.

I awoke to realize that I was alone in the bed. I looked up and found Daniel sitting in the chair near the sliding door. "What is wrong?" I asked.

It took Daniel a few minutes to look at me and I realized that he was suffering from an extreme case of guilt. I stepped out of the covers and walked, naked, over to him. "Please, I shouldn't see you that way," he said, but I did notice that his eyes never left my body and that his cock was responding to what he saw.

I walked up to him and held his head against my breasts. "Daniel, I am in love with you. I now realize this and I believe that you are in love with me as well. I know that there is a difference in our ages, and well ... you are actually my father, so we shouldn't have any babies, but other than that, who has any right to tell two consenting adults who they should or should not make love to."