My Loving Abbajaan (Father, adult daughter)




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.





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 Basheer, 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, Anita, home to live
with my father. Abbajaan 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. Abbajaan 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 Abbajaan's
house was an overwhelming relief. Living with Basheer, 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 Abbajaan to look
after me. I think that I was so timid and jittery from my time
with Basheer 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 Abbajaan 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 Abbajaan 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. "Abbajaan?" 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 lund-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 Basheer 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 Abbajaan 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 Basheer at
his drunkest had liked fucking me. So I got a kind of wicked
smile on my face as I felt my Abbajaan's hard-on pressing into my
ass. I rubbed myself deliberately against him, and kind of turned
a little, to press my breasts right into his chest and rub them
there. "Abbajaan, I was wondering," I cooed. "Why can't we have
air conditioning?" "That again," he sighed, licking his lips. "It
don't cost that much," I whined. "It's not necessary. We hardly
ever get the heat that bad." "Maybe you think so," I sniffed.
"The heat is plenty bad enough for me." "It's a waste of money,"
he said. "Pleeeease?" I kissed him on the cheek, then on the
neck, then on the cheek again. "Saloni," he said, his voice a
little husky. "Your kinda my man, aren't you Abbajaan?" I asked,
all wide eyed innocence. "Huh?" "Well, the man is supposed to
provide for his woman." "You're not my woman. You're my
daughter." "Right now I'm your woman," I said. "I cook for you,
and clean the house, annnnnnd, I could do...other things for
you." I ran my hand over his broad chest, then kissed him on the
lips. He drew back in surprise, swallowing nervously. "Saloni,"
he said warningly. "I'm not a little girl, Abbajaan," I said.
"I'm a grown woman." "Well you ain't acting like it." "Sure I
am," I grinned. "That's why you're getting all hot and bothered."
"What? I..." I slid my hand down and squeezed his lund gently,
and heard his breath inhale sharply. "Saloni! Stop that! Get
off!" He tried to push me off but I held onto him. I put my arms
around him and hugged him tight, clinging to him as he tried to
put me off. "Saloni, you do as I say!" "Abbajaan," I said,
raising my eyes to his and looking at him firmly. "I know what
men need. You're a man, and I'm a grown woman." I gripped his
wrist, pulling his hand from my arm and placing it against my
left breast. At first he jerked it back, but I leaned forward
against him, pushing my breast into his hand. His lund throbbed
beneath me, and his eyes stared down at my chest as his hand
shook against my tittie. I reached behind my back and untied the
spaghetti string and the front of the light dress fell down,
exposing my breasts. He gasped and licked his lips, and I had to
take his hand again and press it against my naked breast. I was
kind of feeling hot too, though I seldom did with Basheer. I
guess it was the way I was sort of...seducing him, y'know? He was
getting so excited at the sight and feel of me that it was
turning me on too. His hand started to close on my breast, and he
cupped it with a light touch, sort of lifting an weighing it. My
nipple was hard and felt hot and sensitive, and I licked my own
lips as his thumb slipped over it, stroking it lightly. "Go
ahead, Abbajaan," I whispered. "I want you to." He squeezed my
breast, his breathing becoming more ragged as he became less and
less restrained, and worked his fingers into the soft meat with
more and more enthusiasm. "Oh, baby," he gasped. I laid back
against his arm as he stroked and squeezed and kneaded my
breasts. Then watched in satisfaction as he bent and began to
lick, then suckle at my nipple. I felt exultant that he was so
happy, so excited, and sighed in pleasure as his tongue and lips
moved on my nipples. There was even a kind of sexual excitement
in me, mostly from having turned him on so high. But also from
the tingling in my breasts as he worked on them. Basheer had
never spent that much time on my breasts. Mostly he just squeezed
them real hard, in a way that was more painful than pleasurable,
and bit on them a little. Abbajaan was stroking and caressing
them in a way nobody ever had, his fingers pinching the nipples
lightly, rolling them and squeezing them. His tongue lapped over
the hard pink buds, and his lips suckled as he drew them, one at
a time, into his mouth. They felt so...hot in his mouth, the way
his mouth sucked, the way his tongue licked, and the odd little
nibbling with his teeth. My breasts felt hot and swollen, and the
nipples throbbed with excitement and electricity in a way they
never had before. I was surprised that he was spending so long,
but in no hurry for him to stop. Nobody had ever spent so much
effort on my titties before, and they were feeling so good as a
result that I was amazed. I found my heart beating faster, my
blood flowing more strongly. I also felt a kind of tingling heat
between my legs, down in my lower belly, a moist, warm, heaviness
that made me feel really nice. Abbajaan finally gripped the hem
of my dress and slid it upwards, and I shifted so he could pull
it out from under my behind. I raised my hands as he slid the
dress up and off, and then sat back in just my little string
bikini panties as he resumed stroking and squeezing my breasts. I
felt just a bit embarrassed about him seeing me like this, but he
was my Abbajaan, after all, so it didn't matter. He'd seen me
naked lots of times when I was little. His fingers slid into the
string of my panties, gripped it, and tugged them slowly down. I
felt a quivering anxiety as my softly furred choot was exposed to
his eyes for the first time. My face flushed a little in
embarrassment as he pulled my panties down and off. Then I was
utterly naked, and Abbajaan's hands moved smoothly over my body.
I raised my head and he slid a hand behind it, then kissed me on
the lips. He pulled back, but I moved forward, pressing my lips
against him again, this time opening my mouth. I slid my tongue
back and forth along his lips, then dipped it into his mouth to
meet his own. I felt his other hand sliding up and down over my
breasts, then moving down my belly and in between my legs. He
cupped my khasta choot and squeezed, and I gasped in pleasure,
feeling heat flood into me. His fingers kneaded my khasta choot
meat as our tongues slid together with growing passion. I was
breathing harder and heavier, and my body was growing more
excited. I ground myself on his hand, gasping and moaning in heat
as pleasure rolled over my mind. " Abbajaan!" I gasped. "Oooh!
Oohhhh! Unhhhhh!" I felt a finger pierce me, cleaving the folds
of my tight, warm, slick khasta choot lips and sliding up into my
fuck hole. I gasped again and humped against it, astonished at my
own excitement, shocked at the pleasure boiling through me. I
humped on his finger, then felt a second enter me. "Yess! Yess!
Ohhh! Abbajaan! Abbajaan! Ooohh!" I panted. "You like that,
baby?" he gasped. "Ooohh!" He thrust his fingers up to the
knuckles inside me and I ground myself helplessly against them,
then his thumb pressed down on my clit and he squeezed up with
his fingers. He caught my clitty between them and rolled it
rapidly back and forth. The heat fire roared up like a bonfire
with gas thrown on it. I cried out in shocked pleasure, arching
my back and jerking spastically. My ass ground against his thighs
and I humped desperately as an orgasm, the first of my life,
ripped through my body. I thrashed and shook as Abbajaan held me
down with one hand and jerked me off with the other. I gasped and
panted and whined, slamming my head back into the arm of the sofa
again and again as my nervous system crackled and burned in
orgiastic pleasure. Then I went limp, panting for breath, chest
heaving as I lay there in languorous aftermath, astonished and
dazed. Abbajaan leaned over and kissed my left breast, then
pulled his fingers out of me and stood up, hefting me in his
arms. He walked upstairs to his bedroom, the master bedroom, what
had been my parents' bedroom as long as I could remember, a place
I wasn't permitted to enter. He carried me through the door and
set me down on the bed, then calmly undid the buttons of his
shirt and removed it. He undid his pants and pushed the zipper
down. I stared at it, at the zipper, laying there naked on his
bed, and watched as his pants slid down. He stepped out of them,
and my eyes focused on the bulging erection in his boxer shorts.
Then he jerked them down and off, and was naked, naked like me.
He was still powerfully built. I was a small woman, having taken
after my mother, but Abbajaan was well over six feet tall, and
very strong. His lund was thick and hard, bigger than Basheer's
had been, not so much longer as...thicker. It was hard and hairy
and dark, and I couldn't take my eyes off it as he crawled into
bed. He lifted my legs up and apart, then set them down on the
bed. I raised my knees, my feet flat on the bed as Abbajaan knelt
there between them, stroking his hands over my breasts and belly.
Then he slid forward over me, his body pressing against mine,
sliding over my skin until were face to face, eye to eye, groin
to groin. His weight was heavy on me, but familiar, from Basheer.
I could feel his entire body with mine, his flesh against me, his
chest pressing down my breasts. He kissed me, and I slid my arms
around him and kissed him back, filled with love and devotion. He
stroked my breasts, and ran his hand up and down my body. I felt
his lund, hard and thick, laying between our bellies. He raised
his hips and gripped his lund, then pressed the head against my
choot crack. I felt it catch at the small hole, then press
forward. My choot spread around it and it slid down inside me.

I groaned in pleasure as it spread my khasta choot tunnel wide.
My choot strained but not painfully. There was just this
wonderful..full...sensation. I felt packed with his lund, felt it
filling my belly, and rejoiced in it. It twisted as he moved atop
me, and I mewled in pleasure as it stirred my insides. His lips
and mine sought each other again and our tongues slithered
together. Then he began to grind himself into me, a slow,
grinding movement that made his lund rub over my clitty with
hard, steady pressure. The pressure built up in my skull again
and I drew my knees back and apart more, moaning and sighing in
happiness. "Fuck me, Abbajaan!" I panted. "Fuck me! Fuck me
hard!" He gripped my head in his hands and crushed my lips with
his, then began to pump his lund in me, using a slow but hard
stroke, his lund sliding back and forth through my steamy,
burning khasta choot tube as his ass rose and fell. He let go of
my head, and his hands slid down under me, cupping my ass,
digging into the soft meat as he fucked harder. He jerked my ass
upwards to meet his thrusts, and I grunted with the impact as his
lund thrust hard into me, his hips struck my thighs bruisingly,
and my choot burned hotter and harder and higher. "Oh, Jesus! Oh
God!" he panted. "Oh baby! Baby!' "Fuck me, Abbajaan! Fuck me,
Abbajaan!" I cried, trying to hump back against him. His lund was
driving harder inside me, sawing roughly over my clitoris as he
fucked into me. I clutched him desperately, grunting and moaning
and panting as my body was bathed in sexual lust and desire. The
center of my universe became my choot, and that hard, pounding
tube of flesh sliding back and forth inside it. Then I came
again, gurgling in wondrous pleasure, snapping my head back and
crying out in gladness as the orgasm rolled over me and swamped
my mind with ecstasy. Abbajaan was pounding down into me, and
every deep, hard thrust made sent a fresh burst of explosive heat
into the orgasm, raising it higher. Then he came inside me, and I
knew a new joy as his sperm shot up into my belly, pouring into
me like liquid life. This was how I was born, I thought dazedly.
His sperm had made me, and now it was inside me. We lay together
afterwards, kissing lightly, stroking each others' bodies. I was
still stunned by the pleasure he had given me, and felt closer to
him than I ever had in my life, closer than I'd ever been to
anyone. After a while he slid down my body, mouthing and suckling
at my breasts, then sliding his tongue over my belly and down
between my legs. My eyes widened, for I'd heard of guys licking
girls there, but had never had it done to me. Basheer had no
interest in it. He knelt between my spread legs, propped on his
elbows and looking at my makkhan choot. I felt a bit embarrassed
at him looking at me like that, but the embarrassment was nothing
compared to the excitement and anticipation coursing through me.
His hands stroked my thighs gently, then his thumbs pressed
against the soft folds of my khasta choot lips, slowly easing
between them, then peeling them apart, exposing the moist, pink
flesh inside. He looked at it, then eased his head down and his
tongue licked along my khasta choot meat. I gasped, then bit down
on my lip as I watched and felt him. His tongue felt like fire as
it slid through my quivering pink flesh. I felt it screwing down
into my choot hole, licking and lapping at my inner flesh. He
sucked on my hole, then moved his lips upwards over my clit. An
explosion seemed to take place inside me when his lips touched my
clit. The fiery pleasure roared up and made my entire body
shudder in response. I jerked my head back and stared up at the
ceiling as his lips sucked on my clitty, then his tongue lapped
against it. My clitty was a hard, super sensitive little bud of
chudai ka dana, and the things he did to it were making my mind
reel. He sucked hard, then blew. He licked and nibbled. He rubbed
and stroked and teased and squeezed. I came, with cries of
shocked pleasure, then came again, then again. For long, long
minutes Abbajaan sucked and licked at my choot, doing things I'd
never imagined before, and tearing my body apart with pleasure. A
fourth time I approached orgasm, my body sweating, my hair matted
against my face, my chest aching. He pulled back, then
straightened, kneeling between my quivering thighs. His lund was
hard again, and I longed for it. He rubbed it up and down against
my clit, taunting me, teasing me, and I moaned and whimpered,
needing it inside me. "Daddddyyyyy!" I moaned. "Fuck meeee! Fuck
meee!" He thrust into me and I cried out in pleasure. Then he
gripped my legs behind the knees, lifting them and forcing them
back against my chest. He jammed them back hard, the way Basheer
used to, but now there was only pleasure, and a deep sexual need
in me. He rose up over me, his weight on my legs, crushing them
downwards, then thrust in hard and fast. He began to fuck me
then, and there was no other word for it. It was no making love
but fucking. I was being fucked, and fucked hard. His lund was
pounding down into me with savage force and speed, stabbing into
the center of my belly with each hard thrust. His hips pounded
against my upturned ass cheeks, slamming me downwards into the
bed, and I cried out with each impact, a mixture of pleasure and
pain. My guts churned and writhed around his pistoning lund, and
my eyes closed as I shuddered in orgiastic pleasure. I came
again, my insides exploding with pleasure, my mind burning and
roiling under the waves of ecstasy as Abbajaan rammed his lund
down into me with wild abandon. The bed creaked and groaned
underneath us as the springs flung me up to meet each new thrust.
I gurgled in helpless sexual glory, unable to breath, unable to
think, basking in the fires of my own inner juices as Abbajaan's
lund continued to drive down into my fuck tunnel with relentless
speed and power. Then he came inside me, his juices spewing out
into my sucking fuck chamber. I felt my spasming choot suck on
his boner, milking it for every last drop as he cursed and moaned
and then dropped over me again. Things didn't precisely change
between me and Abbajaan, at least, not in the way I felt about
him or he felt about me. The only change was lust and pleasure.
For the first week we fucked like bunnies. Abbajaan was so glad
to be getting sex again, especially a hot young piece like me,
and I was so overjoyed at discovering the joys of my own body,
that we could hardly let each other alone. We took baths
together, and I rode up and down on his lund in the tub. He
fucked me on the kitchen table, and bent over the sofa. He sucked
my choot repeatedly, and I sucked his lund. We kissed and hugged
more often, only now his hands would usually roam over my body,
squeezing my ass or titties, or sliding up between my legs. I
think the best position for me, the one I liked the most, was on
all fours, with Abbajaan taking me from behind doggy style. To
me, nothing spoke more of being his woman, and him being my man,
than to kneel on all fours like a kutia in heat, and have him
mount me and ride me to orgasm. I loved sex, and loved Abbajaan
for showing me how wonderful it was. I became, at least in the
next months, so...sexual...so...hot and filled with desire, that
often he would jerk me off right out of the blue, just for his
own amusement. He would pull me into his lap, or bend me over a
table or chair, or just push me against a wall, then slide his
hand down my pants or up under my skirt and jerk me off. It never
took more than a couple of minutes for me to come like crazy. I
was a helpless captive of my newly awakened desires, but a
willing one. I moved into Abbajaan's room shortly after that. It
seemed a waste of time and effort to keep everything in my room
when I spent almost every night in his bed anyway. Both of us
wanted to fuck before going to bed, and first thing in the
morning. I didn't bother searching out someone else, because
Abbajaan was all I needed. When I think of all the women out
there married to jerks and creeps, or guys who paid them little
attention, I kind of felt smug. Abbajaan was the nicest, warmest,
gentlest, most caring and loving man in the world. And he was
great in bed. Why would I want anyone else? Abbajaan was a little
annoyed when I told him I was pregnant. I had secretly stopped
taking the pill, and not told him about being pregnant until I
started to show, and it was too late to do anything. I had a son
for him, then a pair of twins, girls. After that Abbajaan made
sure I took the pills every day, but I think he was glad to have
kids around the house again. Years later, when Anita was old
enough, and starting to become sexually active, I persuaded
Abbajaan to show her how much enjoyment she could get from her
own body. I didn't want her getting stuck with a creep like
Basheer, and thinking sex was boring. She was a little reluctant
at first, but she quickly became an enthusiastic participant in
our sex life. Abbajaan even showed me how to lick choot, so that
she and I could pleasure ourselves when he wasn't around. Too
many of them, like me, give themselves to ignorant, crude, fumble
fingered guys who don't care about their pleasure. It's too bad
more girls didn't learn about sex from their fathers.









  
