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Subject: Title story: "My Loving Father" Author: INCESTOR 60014179
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Date: Sun, 20 Nov 2005 19:03:18 +0000
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My Loving Father By Jame
Note: if incest bothers you don't read. Searching for Mr. Right doesn't always
lead to him. Sometimes Mr. Right is Mr. Wrong, and sometimes Mr. Right was
there all along in the last place we would have looked. Jame I got married
early, to a guy I thought I was in love with. I became pregnant almost
immediately, and had a beautiful baby girl. For the first couple of years
my marriage was perfect, but then my Brad, my husband, lost his job. He
began to drink heavily, and the bills went unpaid. He began to get angry
and sullen, and started snarling and cursing me at the slightest
provocation. Then, one day, he hit me. It was only a slap, but sent me
flying back against the wall. From then on every time he was around me I
walked on eggshells, fearful and worried. Several more times he hit me. At
first they were slaps, then he started punching me. I left him and took my
daughter, Ann, home to live with my father. Dad was happy to put us up. He
still had the big house me and my five brothers and sisters had grown up
in, and since we'd all left, and Mom had died, I guess he was a little
lonely there. Dad and I hadn't been especially close when I was growing
up. He was always working, doing lots of overtime to support us all, and
when he did have spare time I guess he mostly spent it with my brothers.
Going from the constant menace and fear that I had lived with to my Dad's
house was an overwhelming relief. Living with Brad, even though he hadn't
actually hit me that much, had reduced me to a kind of fearful mouse,
afraid of saying the slightest thing that would cause him to get angry.
Now I was home. Safe. I had the big old house to be alone with Ann, and I
had my Daddy to look after me. I think that I was so timid and jittery
from my time with Brad that I went out of my way to be nice to my father,
insisting on doing the dishes and housework, scurrying to meet his every
need. I felt so safe there, and so grateful to him, that my love for him
just seemed to grow and grow, and I often hugged him just from sheer
happiness. I even took to slipping onto his lap now and then, kind of
reliving my girlhood days. Only now I had Daddy all to myself, and he had
more time for me. He didn't work overtime any more, and would come home
promptly at five thirty. I greeted him at the door, kissing and hugging
him, and having his dinner ready. One day I was wearing a thin summer
dress. It was one of those flowery things, with spaghetti straps over the
shoulders to hold the top up. I had no bra under it, but my breasts were
firm and round, and not really big, so I didn't really need one. I hugged
daddy when he came home and he had his dinner, then I cleaned up the
dishes. I was hot, and I was being especially nice to him because I wanted
to suggest that he get an air conditioner. I was acting just the way I
used to as a kid, I guess, buttering up the old man to get my way. After
I'd cleaned everything I went into the bathroom and checked my hair. I
gave my blonde locks a few more brushes, setting the bangs just right so I
looked sweet and cute, then went out into the living room. "Daddy?" I
asked. "Yes, honey?" I slid onto his lap and he brought his arm around
behind my back as I rubbed my head against his shoulder a little. "What
now?" he asked, his voice sounding a little amused. "What do you mean?" I
asked, all innocence. "When you use that tone of voice and start acting
like a big eyed puppy I know you want something," he snorted. "But I love
you," I pouted. I shifted myself a little, putting an arm over his
shoulder, and it was then I felt something hard against my ass. I blinked
in surprise, for I knew he had a hard-on. At first I was shocked, but then
a whole bunch of feelings swirled around in my head. First, I felt an
amazed delight, that I had managed to make him hard like that without even
trying. I guess that was the cock-tease in me. Then there was the
understanding that since my mom had died five years ago he must've not had
any sex. As for me, I considered sex almost irrelevant. I had been taught
it was something you pretty much had to do for your man, and the best
thing you could do was to relax and hope it didn't hurt too much. Sex with
Brad had always been rough and fast. He'd get on and hump away for four or
five minutes, then roll off with a sigh and go to sleep. I'd heard about
orgasms, but never had one on my own. I was so naive I hadn't even
masturbated. Like I said, it wasn't that I thought sex was dirty or
shocking or nasty... just... unimportant. Shrug. But I loved Daddy so much
then, that I was delighted that he was getting a hard-on. I hardly had to
think for a second to realize that he would probably like to fuck me. Even
Brad at his drunkest had liked fucking me. So I got a kind of wicked smile
on my face as I felt my Daddy's hard-on pressing into my ass. I rubbed
myself deliberately against him, and kind of turned a little ...
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