The first thing she does when she gets home from work is kick off her shoes. She's had them on for well over 12 hours, and I can sense the physical relief when they slip off her feet. The second thing she does is find me, usually on my chair in our living room, or other times in the kitchen making her something to eat. She might pull me to my feet to hold me, putting her hands on the low of my back as she leans into a kiss. Other times she'll sit straight on my lap and just fall into my grasp, arms around my neck and her face buried into the nook of my shoulder. When she's really tired she might just peck me on the lips and head off to take a shower.
Tonight she found me again and took comfort on the couch adjacent to me. She called me over so she could lean her head against my arm, tilting her head enough so that she could gently kiss my skin. Some nights end innocently and I feel as if I should prefer it that way. I'm not worthy of what we have and how she feels about me. I'm not worthy of how she treats me, not least of all when she gets home from work to serve me again after she grafted for a day and I sat on my ass. Sometimes she just wants to have a bit of fun and play with me, and she tells me she missed me so much at work that she couldn't wait to get home and make me cum.
It's hard to explain what the last 5 months have done to our relationship. At the start of lockdown she moved back home to be with me. She said I would get lonely without her visits so she left her housemates behind and settled into her old room. Having my daughter back home was lovely, but she had ulterior motives. Within a couple of weeks she told me she was attracted to me. A week after that we had sex. What am I supposed to say about that?
She told me that she had wanted this since she was 20. It took six years for her to pursue what she wanted. It took me less than a week to show the required weakness that would allow her to do it. I can't express how my stomach dropped when she first told me. Every time she reminded me of that conversation over the coming days my heart raced. I could have shown more restraint, and maybe I should have. Obviously I should have. I'm her father. But she wanted it and the first time she kissed me I knew I did too.
Everything since that week had been a whirlwind, but it was nights like this one that truly reminded me of what I was doing. I would sit back in place and succumb to her touch, unable to function properly as she massaged my cock with her hands. She would talk to me about work as she did, sometimes complaining about colleagues or patients as she drained me. What did I ever do to deserve this treatment? Why was I her priority at every turn? What did I ever do to draw her towards me?
I often had too much time to think, and when she jerked me off I was lost between viewing her in the two states I knew her. As both a daughter and a lover. It was still taking some getting used to, even if we were at least 4 months deep into that second stage. I ached for her touch and I ached for her to spill her heart out to me. When she provided both at once, it was a battle that I was ill-prepared for. An overloading of the senses.
It was going to happen again tonight. I worked that out when her hand found my thigh, and she stroked ever closer towards my crotch as minutes ticked by. It was easy to follow her lead. She had been in charge every step of the way so far, and I couldn't see that changing anytime soon.
She sat up abruptly and turned onto her knees, resting her ass on the backs of her heels and facing me with a warm smile and a tired slouch. "My mouth is so dry." she said, and it brought a smile to my own face.
"Have a drink." I told her, but she wasn't to be persuaded away from me right now. I could already feel the chills running up and down my legs. How long does it take before this becomes second nature? I can see both sides of her so clearly one second, and the next they're muddled as one.
"I will in a minute." she said, and with that her hands found the waist of my pyjama bottoms. She dug her nails beneath the stretchy fabric and dragged them over my hips and down past my cock. "Just a little one, okay?"
"Okay." Why would I argue?
"I'm tired." Her hand was already around my cock, and she giggled as I reached down to push my pants the rest of the way over my knees and down onto my ankles.
"You don't have to do it if you're tired." I could have sworn I had said those words before, on another night she put me first. She didn't care, and only leaned in to kiss my lips.
"I know, but I want to." I was enamoured with her, physically and emotionally. In awe of her every move. As my cock hardened in her soft hands I took in the sight beside me, and I could have laughed. She looked like she could be my nurse, just as she was to anyone else on the ward throughout her shift. Her tunic was creased, and her legs were covered by black tights. Her face was as gorgeous as ever, but her eyes were focused on her hands and I couldn't grab their attention. I wanted to touch her, but she would never let me after work, not until she showered.
My cock stood upright as she pushed long black hair behind each ear before returning her hands to my lap. Her left hand grasped the base of my shaft, holding it in place. Her right hand found the head, fingers delicately hooking around my girth and squeezing timidly. She kissed me again and then began to jerk me off. My legs tightened instantly, knees coming together at a moment's notice.
