Its a cold winters day - nothing unusual. But my father and I have a good heart to heart that leads somewhere we didn't expect.
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I was thirteen. I wore a little extra makeup to cover the acne that had been dotting my face. I had a rather rounded body, with small A cup breasts. I was so proud of them, I had a few pairs of bra’s which I immensely enjoyed – it made me feel adult. I had just began thinking about boys – you know in that way – wondering what was down there and wondering why it interested me. But it was winter – and my parents were separated, on a break from each other. My mother needed a breather. So there it was, my father and I; in the mountains, in our vacation home.
BORING! The snow was two feet deep, the car hadn’t been brushed off in days, there was no need. A fire crackled in the fireplace, licking the blackened sides of the sooted back of the furnace. They danced about, magnificently, as if horsed prancing about in a field. I sat on the couch reading a book about the great Scott expedition to find the northwest passage. On looking back, I think I was desperate for any type of entertainment – but I still have that book.
The door creaked open, swinging wide, as my father came in carrying wood he had brought in from the shed. The fire was indeed getting lo, and we were fresh out of burnable logs. My father smiled, pushing the door shut with his foot, and setting the heavy wooden beasts down inside a large bucket. I pulled the large blanket covering most of my body around my chin, it was a chilly day indeed, and the door had let a good deal of cold in.
With that he through one of the smaller pieces in and let it fizzle and crack as the fire sniffed it out, making sure it was ready to eat. In moments, the flames curled and swept around the log pouring warmth back into the room.
“Enjoying the book kiddo,” My father said sitting himself in his large armchair, “You know they still havn’t found those two ships. Buried somewhere on the bottom of the Antarctic ocean. What an amazing story – of heroism in the face of unbelievable odds.”
“how do we know they were heroic?” I asked closing the book on my thumb, “They are all dead. They might have eaten each other for all we know.”
“Later in the book they discuss that possibility,” My father replied, “Not a pretty or glorious fate to be stuck on an Antarctic ice cap until you die – never mistake glory for courage.”
My father was always filled with anecdotes about history, obsessed with the ice filled tails of Mallery and Scott. I envied him of that – such a mind cooped up in a worker’s body. A man who had spent his life pouring his back, soul and heart into keeping his family well fed and comfortable beyond expectation. I smiled in response.
“You get excited over the weirdest things,” I chuckled.
“I do indeed,” His grin was white and full – a wonderful reprieve from his, often, glum expressions.
“How are things between you and mom?” I asked.
He sighed, his smile wavering, “They’ll work themselves out, eventually – she wanted time to sort out her architecture career, and pull that grant – I was just getting in the way.”
“Is it my fault?” I moved to a sitting position, the cold air tickling my shoulders, “She said I was so much work.”
“Oh my, no,” My father replied leaning towards me, “every kid is a lot of work, and you are no different – but she loves you.”
“Will from school said if moms not here, you’ll get blue balls and die,” Billy had gone into more graphic detail in school, but I had no wish to share it, “is that true.”
My dad lost his composure, as he sank into his chair, hollering in laughter, “oh my no – that won’t kill me – funny kid: stay away from him.”
I followed in on the laughter – though I wasn’t sure why it was so funny. The fire hissed as a frozen crack in the wood evaporated. Sparks erupted from the log, raining hot fiery specs onto the ground. I lept up, with a shriek, as if it would bite me. Though even the sparks that landed on the blanked simply faded to black and died in a puff of smoke. My father was up in a jiffy, pushing the big black great into place.
“I think it’s had enough oxygen for the time being,” He turned around and went dead silent as he stared at me, on the couch, still flicking away the remaining glowing embers.
As I met his eyes I glanced down – it was ten in the morning but I was still in my sleep attire – the bra I was so proud of and my less appealing boxer shorts. I grabbed the blanket and pulled it over myself. My face growing red with embarrassment.
“Sorry,” I said, “I freaked.”
He chuckled – but it was a forced chuckle as he sat back down, moving around as if his pants were somehow less comfortable than before. An awkward silence followed – and I thought about what Billy had said about Blue balls driving a man insane. Then I felt something – something I had never felt before. A warmth between my legs – like a fire had been lit between my neathers. My eyes fell onto the steeple in my father’s pants, the temple that had arisen moments ago.
I took a shaky breath in, “I didn’t mean to upset your blue balls.”
The smile returned to his face as he laughed out loud once more, “Thank you kiddo,” My father replied, “But I’m fine. Maybe you should go put something on – we might go into town later today – Grab some pizza.”
I smiled again as I stood up wrapping the blanket around me – I would take a shower, grab some clean clothes, and then make the hour or so trip through the snow to town. The drive was always beautiful. I looked back at my father, and saw that crease in his pants again. Once more that fire woke between my legs. What was it!?
I turned around, and looked at him for a moment. Then put on a smile and skipped over to him. I wasn’t sure what was on my mind, or what was happening – but I had an image in my brain I wanted to make true – once where I was cuddled up with my father in a bed – the thought brought a fire back inside of me – then suddenly there was moisture. I shivered – it usually took some time for that to happen.
What was I about to do? The thought stopped me in my trax – what if my father got angry – what if this was wrong – what if it actually happened!? The thoughts swelled together like an orchestra inside of me, every emotion a different once. My body shook – shook like I was next to Scott, freezing to death in the frigid Antarctic weather.
“Yes Kiddo?” My father asked.
“Did it make you happy?” I felt my stomach role with anticipation and dread.
“Did what make me happy?” He asked cocking his head to one side.
My neather regions burned like hot fire again, doused by the trickling sensation of liquid. My body nearly fell into the throws of terror right there – I almost ran back to my room yelling never mind – almost made up some stupid question! But – I let the blanket around me drop.
It slid of my body and flopped to the ground. I felt the colder air watched over my body, my skin swelled up into goose bumps, my breasts ached as the cold engulfed them. The world seemed to stop. I brushed my long golden hair from my face and eased myself into a relaxed position, with one hand on my hip and the other dangling by my side. My father went silent.
He stared at me, and I returned the gaze, watching that teepee in his pants seemingly grow in height. I knew what Billy had said, and I knew what was under those pants. I was thirteen with the internet - not an idiot.
“Kiddo, look,” My father said taking a deep breath in, “I appreciate the gesture, but it has very negative implications, and it is very wrong. You don’t know what you are saying or offering, and that’s okay – but I half to turn you down. I’m your father – I’ll talk to you about your feelings – but I’m not here to partake.”
I sighed heavily, “I know what’s involved – I’ve seen your collection of pictures on your computer – that’s how I figured out what went where dad!”
His eyes widened.
“What – the file 'fun stuff' is a bit tempting to open,” I shook again, feeling my nerves calm down a bit.
“That doesn’t change …” He began …
“Change what? That this is considered morally incorrect,” I asked my peppy side kicking in, I had generated his speech moments earlier and was determined to give it with full bravado, “Tell that to the Mayans, Incas, Romans, Greeks, Northern celts, Slovaks – tell that to every royal blood line of England, of France – of the Ottoman empire: hell, even the holy roman empire. The bible has three chapters in Deuteronomy explaining the steps to bed one’s daughter correctly, and every celtic tribe in history has at some point had Prima Nocta rules in their existence.”
My history knowledge had served me well – a secret passion of mine. The words sent chills to my core – Like I had just overturned an ant hill. My father looked at me with a stare that might have shattered glass. Then his eyes softened and he smiled.
“You are one smart cookie kiddo,” My father said with a smile, “but in the twenty first century we have different views of what is proper.”
I stepped forward and slipped over my father’s lap. He pulled out a hand and placed it on my shoulder to stop me. My heart burst into action as I felt his hand on my skin. His musky smell fell over me as I relaxed onto his legs. Something earthy rose around him, something powerful and pleasant. A smell I knew would comfort me and be there for me if hell itself froze over.
My body rang with a million different emotions – my body shook a million times as my father locked his arm staring at me. I knew he wanted this – he just was unwilling to let it happen. I reached down with a free hand and let my then smooth appendage fall on that temple between his legs. My father started to get up, but I squeezed. He let out a soft breath of air and leaned back. I felt his arm lose its rigid tension.
“God, no one can know,” My father said, “No one.”
“No one,” I replied with a smile.
With that my free hand slid onto his, pulling his muscular arm from my shoulder to my chest. I felt my hard nipples bore into his skin as his hand cupped my breast. I felt his body quake beneath me. I wrapped my hand around the cylinder beneath his pants, and gave it a squeeze like they did in the films I watched in the basement when no one was around.
He took a deep breath, sharply, and quickly. I felt that strange fire rise between my legs again, and unknown sensation, a powerful sensation – overwhelming in its scope. The fire hissed and sizzled away behind me as I pulled my hand from his lump and reached behind me. I went for the straps of my bra, but they refused to unhook.
I felt a warm rough hand slid over my back and push me forward into his warm chest. I heard the pounding of his heart beneath his heavy blue button up shirt. His hands slid beneath my bra. I felt the wire interior dig into my skin as my father forced the hooks from their mighty loops. My bright purple bra fell forward, revealing my pert nipples atop to tinny volcanic peaks. My father stared at it for a moment.
I leaned forward, sliding forward, and our lips touched. He had rough stubble on his chin making his kiss rough and grating. At first our lips just sat there, opening and closing, and then a tongue knocked on my lips. I opened and let it enter. I felt it slowly slide past mine, touch mine. A slid forward further.
That’s when a burst of energy shot through me. That lump now touched my tight boxers. My father paused as he let out a moan. I rolled my hips and he grimaced, but pushed back. I reached forward unbuttoning his shirt, pulling it from his muscular body. Even his minor pot belly was offset by his working arms. His shirt came off quickly.
His hands fell down my back like rain, dabbling my spine. His eyes focused on my small, but noticeable, breasts. My father traced my shoulder blade to my face, cupping it gently in one hand, while the other slid down to my thigh. I felt his thumb move as if to strum a guitar – it wasn’t a string, but it played a chord. I felt a shot of warmth and fire spring from his contact on my moist boxers. His eyes seemed to grow in size as he withdrew his hand, to see the glistening reflection of flickering light.
“Your …” He began as he looked down at my unattractive sleeping boxers, “You soaked right through.”
“Hello Mr. Obvious!” I smiled.
Without hesitation, he stood up. Me in his arms. I instinctively wrapped my legs around him. At first I thought he was angry, but he passed the stairs to my room, and began to ascend to the loft that overlooked the house. I felt his lump press into me with each stride. I stride not make a noise – tried not to squeal like my body wanted me too, as that heat flooded me with each step.
Once up the stairs he sat me on the bed and stepped back, shirtless, his pecks roiling over his torso as he stared at me. Finally, he gave a low moan and his hand dropped to his pants – and he pulled them down along with his underwear. That was the first time I had seen it since I was a much younger girl bathing in the outdoor shower singing songs with him.
It was long and full. Blue veins wiggled down. It cured up slightly at the end – ending in a large thick head. The crease in the middle glistened, as something sticky hung from it, glinting in the light. Before he could speak I slid from the bed onto my knees. My hand reached out, and gripped his shaft and pulled it back. I stuck out my tongue and placed it on the bottom of his cock. I felt his salty skin broil my taste buds with a dozen sensations as a slid it up his shaft. I felt the slimy good drop onto my face as I rounded his head – opened my mouth engulfed the swollen, smooth bullet in my mouth. The warmth was like an inferno in mouth. Salty liquid drifted over the musky coppery flavor of a swollen cock. I pressed it as far in as it would go, but quickly I felt my throat close and deny him access. Coughing I fell backwards letting go of his now glinting head.
“Wherever did you learn that?” He asked.
I shrugged, “Videos – I didn’t do it as well as they did.”
He smiled, lifting me up. He leaned in for a kiss again. I happily obliged as we engaged once more in a good, tongue entangled kiss. He then pushed my backwards, primordially. And slipped a finger into my boxers, pulling them from me, revealing the moist damp challis between my legs.
“I can’t take it anymore,” He moaned, “Please!”
I lay back on my parents bed, sliding to the middle, and then, with my father looking at my naked body with hunger and love I opened my legs. I wasn’t sure what to expect, and I half wanted to back out … avoid something horrible … but the fire there burned hotter: demanding his attention.
My father bore down above me, pushing my legs farther apart as he kneeled down on the bed. He grabbed my legs with his hands and pulled them up and then reached for the bedside table. His hand pulled a condom from the bed side table. For some reason, disappointed flooded me … I knew what they were – and I knew why the existed … and I knew the consequences. My dad fumbled with it in his hands for a moment. I know what I was about to do was stupid – but I didn’t care. I reached out and pulled it from his hand.
“Risk it!” I said – with the most commanding voice I could and chucked the condom across the room.
He seemed to hungry for me to second guess my request. He angled himself above me, placed his heat at my entrance. I could feel it’s hit pouring over my moist lips. I felt my body convulse in expectation. He then pushed forward. At first it pinched as my small opening attempted engulf his cock. He pulled out for a minute and pressed in again. I felt his hot head pass through my opening, get engulfed by my lips. My father let out a guttural moan. I felt the heat of the blood-filled cock pour into me. He pulled out a second time and pressed in eagerly again. My lips were pushed apart, stretching and tingling with hot joy. His cock slid into me – I could see his member thrust into me under my slightly rounded belly.
I couldn’t help myself. As his head slid into me, pushing me apart, I felt my walls convulse, and I let out a scream – not of pain! Of joy! My body seemed the throb out of control with an orgasm so immensely powerful I lost track of time. When my vision returned, my father was bearing down on me, thrusting forward. I could feel Hiscock thrust inside me, each push sent waves through my body like an electric shock. I felt his balls slap against my ass, his head push against my cervix. My back was arching as I thrust back against him, impaled on my father’s beautiful veiny member.
“Oh baby!” My father moaned between guttural gasps for air, “You are so beautiful sweetheart! So perfect!”
“Dad!” was my best response, and only barely audible through my breaths.
He pounded away, I could feel the pain now, he was too big. But I didn’t care. I was too lost in the emotion to care. I was having sex! My father leaned back, thrusting his cock deep into me. I felt my cervix squeal in pain as he did so, I wanted to ask him to stop, but I couldn’t! I couldn’t speak.
“Oh shit!” My father gasped, “oh baby!”
He slammed harder and faster, I felt my body, engulfing his cock, begin to pulse around him again. Suddenly my father grunted out loud as he rammed his full length in one final thrust into me. Warmth burst forth from his cock as he shot warm string cum after shot of warm cum into me. I screamed, arching my back, engulfed in the sensation. My father grunted, gripping my shoulder. Then he yanked out of me, a look of horror on his face.
“No! No! kiddo,” He gasped his cock still throbbing, “I got lost in the moment, I didn’t mean to cum inside you!”
“It’s okay!” I moaned through the sensation, “Rather it you than some strange guy!”
“No sweetie,” He said raising a hand to his for head.
I pushed myself into a seated position. I could feel his cream inside me – and I wanted it nowhere else. It was my turn to comfort my father, as his sperm bounced about inside his daughter. I pulled my father by the hand until he was on the bed, and wrapped his arm around me, as I ran my hands up and down his chest.
“It’ll be okay,” I said, “Like you say: we will cross those bridges when we cum to them.”
We spent the next hour on the bed, talking to each other about life – and what might happen. After he settled down and began enjoying the moment we talked about Pizza and Ice-cream in the town. I got my period two weeks later. Both of us were relieved.