Hi, guys. Been a while, but I am back with this story that I have been working on for a while. Hope you like it. I really liked the idea, and I have been anxious to share this one. Before I start, I want to apologize for A Desperate Mind. I am proud of the story, but for those disappointed, I understand and I will probably abandon those characters indefinitely. Also, Alex and Emma Ch. 3 will follow this story, but no date is really set. It will certainly be on here by fall. Anyway, here is Youth & Experience. After finishing the story, leave your comments below. Would love feedback for this story.
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Before I start, let me get the obvious out of the way. One week ago, I fucked my 28-year old daughter. I feel no shame about doing so. We both enjoyed ourselves as we fucked each other, and so why would I regret I did? It is dumb, pointless, and, in this writer's humble opinion, the act was actually beneficial for the two of us, so that's that.
But before I get to what you all what to read, I need to explain to all of you just who and my daughter are and what lead us to our mutual fucking session.
My name is Jake Philip Smith. I am 46 years old, 6'4, weigh 165 pounds of solid muscle, have nice strong arms, have short brown hair, have brown eyes, and the proud owner of a 7-inch cock, which I happily pleased my wife with for over 20 years.
People who know me best would say I have a kind, warm personality. I have been called a serious minded individual who can still laugh at himself.
I can be short tempted and I have been known to be a little too sarcastic at times, but most people tend to find me pleasant and enjoyable company.
I construct houses for a living. I love my job, as it allows me to work with my hands, keeps me on my feet so I stay fit, and make a healthy sum of money so I can keep my family provided for and have some extra to spend on the side. This way, my wife and daughter could have the life that I didn't have.
My ex-wife, Jan Elizabeth Jackson, was an history teacher at the high school where we had graduated 27 years earlier. My wife was, and still is, a stunner. Shoulder length honey blond hair, dazzling green eyes, gorgeous full pink lips perfect for a blowjob, 34 C breasts, a 31 inch waist, 34 inch hips and an ass that just was asking to be spanked over and over again, which I happily did much of in my wife and mine's sex life.
Jan, when I was younger, was almost like my alter-ego, but over the years, she became too serious and "put together" for my taste. I am all for being organized and taking matters seriously, but honestly, before we divorced, I was at a point in our marriage when I couldn't remember the last time my wife smiled at me. Our sex life was still as hot as ever, but I got the feeling my wife wasn't as into it as she used to be, as if I was another man she was fucking instead of the man she married.
My wife and I only had only one child. Samantha Taylor Smith-Jackson. The pride of my life. For those who say you aren't really a parent if you only have one child, those people clearly didn't have my baby as their child. Oh, don't get me wrong, I simply found my child to be irresistible. All it took for my baby girl when she was about to be trouble was a lip pout, those sad big green eyes looking right at you, and the words "I'm sorry, Daddy" in her adorable voice and I knew then for the next 18 years, my fate was sealed. This girl would have me wrapped me around her finger for the rest of her life, and she didn't want it any other way. But damn, was my little darling a handful. Oh, she wasn't like a bad kid in school or anything like that. She, like her parents, made straight A's in high school, was a member of several high school organizations, and was beloved by most, if not all, of her fellow students and teachers.
No, my little girl was a handful because she simply was a very curious and take charge kind of an individual. When she saw something she wanted, she would usually just take it. Now, of course, that became less and less of a problem as she got older, but still, you don't realize the amount of Barbies I would have to return to the store because she would try to hijack them out of there.
My daughter is the splitting image of her mother when she was 28. I swear, you could take a picture of my wife from the same age and put it up to a picture of my daughter and I swear, you would think it was the same person. But that is where comparisons ended, for while she may have looked like her mother, she was, without a shadow of a doubt, her father's daughter.
My mouth was the biggest smartass I knew outside of myself. She had been like that even before she hit puberty. Maybe that was me rubbing off on her, I don't know, but she put my mouth to shame.
As my daughter grew, she became as beautiful as her mother, and due to my wife and mine's ever expanding divide, I began to notice my daughter more and more. Watching her from afar as she grew up, her wearing several tight clothes and such, I found myself reluctant to admit it, but if I was younger, and not her father, of course, I would totally find myself hot for Sam.
My daughter, like me, married shortly after high school to a guy I actually thought had some class to him. His name was Stanley Jackson, and he was quite the catch for a girl like Samantha. He was the quarterback on the football team, was in the top percentile of his class, and just was deemed as one of the most likable young men in our suburb. They both married the year after graduating high school, and I assumed my daughter's life was in good hands. He had a steady and well paying job in real estate, meaning my daughter would be well provided for.
Stanley Jackson. I hate that little fucking bastard.
For 8 years, my daughter gave him the world. Always having a nice, hot meal on the table when he got home. Always working her butt off cleaning up the house, Always making sure he was sexually satisfied(I only know that from what she told me. I don't give a damn about my daughter's sex life.). And yet, that wasn't enough for him, I guess. No, I guess he just decided that my daughter wasn't doing it for him anymore.
This is where my ex-wife comes in.
Yep, you probably know where this is going, but for shits and giggles, let me go on. It was Valentine's Day, almost two months ago. I had gotten off early and to celebrate the occasion, I went to go buy my wife something for Valentine's Day.
I drove to the local store and picked up some violets, her favorite flowers, and a box of white chocolate candies. I also grabbed some scented candles, trying to decide what aromas went well together. Cinnamon and hazelnut? Strawberries and Cherries? Oh, how I wish I knew what the hell I was doing. Eventually, I just picked up Cinnamon and Peaches(not the best combo, I know, but give me a fucking break)and proceeded to checkout.
After checking out my items, I walked to my car and proceeded to drive home. It seemed to take longer than usual. I hadn't been this excited in a long time. In hindsight, I should had went to just go see my daughter instead.
I saw my house in the distance. I live in a nice, navy blue, two story house in the suburbs of Philly. We have decent-sized backyard, a nice, wide porch, with a white, wood porch swing, and a fully paved driveway which I paved myself.
I pulled into my driveway, grabbed my supplies, and walked to the door of my house. I opened the door and heard a very familiar sound. It was my wife, breathing heavily. I hadn't heard her breathe that hard in a long time.
"Oh, fuck me. Fuck, that feels good."
I hoped there wasn't another voice up there with her. Every married individual dreads a moment like this. You just don't ever think it could ever happen to you.
"Oh, yes. Ride my fucking cock, bitch. You feel so fucking good."
I walked up to our bedroom, the dread I am feeling building in anticipation, and I am walking as slow as I can to not alert Jan to my presence. Finally, I reach the slightly ajar door and see a most infuriating sight.
There is Jan, my wife and love of my life, riding another man's cock as if she hasn't never ridden another cock in my life. That would be enough be to make any man angry, but the icing on the shit storm cake? The prick she was riding on belonged to an even bigger prick: my model of exceptional youth son-in-law!
I barged in, screaming "WHAT THE FUCK IS GOING ON HERE?"
Jan just remained in place on his cock as Stanley sat up, mouth agape, the very model of the apparently shocked dumbass you usually see in these situations, and looked in my general direction.
"Hi, dad."
"DON'T YOU FUCKING HI,DAD ME! WHAT THE FUCK ARE YOU DOING FUCKING YOUR MOTHER-IN-LAW?!?!"
"Relax, Jake. I can explain. You see, it's like..."
"Oh, fuck it, Jake. Look, you had to realize we were dripping apart. I need more excitement in my life. I am 46 years old. My life is almost over. I need something new, exciting. You aren't cutting it anymore."
I couldn't believe Jan was saying this to me. For over 20 years, we had been so happy, so fulfilled by the other, and now, it was like all that faded away, as if it never existed at all.
"You fucking..."
"What? Say it, Jake. What am I?"
I couldn't say it. As much as I hated both of them in that moment, she was the mother of my child. I could never entirely hate her.
I looked over at my asshole son-in-law.
"And you? Why are you cheating on my daughter? She does everything for you."
He just shrugged. "I don't know. She just not exciting enough for me anymore."
"What the fuck are you saying?"
"She...well, sucks in the sack."
"WHAT?!?!"
