Matts brings her campaign to its final act, completing her plan to give her father all the love...the physical love that he needs and that her mother doesn't give.
The weeks that followed often felt interminable, crawling past with tectonic slowness as Miki and I eagerly waited for any opportunity to make love…ok, let’s admit it; to fuck again. And we found our chances - yes, in the plural as I’ll explain - in the capricious rhythm of our family’s routine. If the house was left to us while our parents were absent on short shopping trips, for example, it was an opportunity for us to each masturbate the other. On days we managed after school to beat our parents home we engaged in hurried oral sex with each opportunity our skills growing.
But we needed the assurance of their longer absences to reach our real goal and those absences, thankfully, offered themselves several times over the next few weeks. Movies, dance recitals, dinner with friends; every time our parents casually announced their plans Miki and my blood pressure rose instantly with the anticipation of more love-making. It was the next weekend after our ‘virginity exchange’ as we came to call our first real love-making, the first crossing of the final taboo, that we used my second condom. And put it to very good use. No, we did not have another ‘two-fer’ as with our first sex. But it was as wonderful, as sublime, as ridiculously orgasmic as our first coupling. And Miki didn’t let me down - either in bed or in the condom department - as true to his word he’d sourced several himself. And my brazen enquiries of the older girls in our corp de ballet had paid dividends as they laughingly handed me several more with stagey winks.
So Miki and I within weeks had become experienced lovers, each teaching the other, each learning the myriad intricacies of sex. But most importantly we learned to give more than we took, to ensure the other’s pleasure before our own so that our sexual euphoria grew to be more than the sum of our individual pleasures. With my second condom we learned that a woman could take charge as I straddled my brother and, at my own speed, sunk down upon his shaft, impaling myself on his cock as the room was filled with our gasps, as I chose our rhythm. And by the time we were into our newly acquired supply of condoms, on one particular night when our parents were away for long enough that we could have leisurely ‘seconds’, we discovered a third option: doggy style. As Miki turned me onto my stomach and as I couldn’t stop laughing in my confused anticipation, he grabbed pillows, raised my hips, and stuffed them beneath my midriff. With a sudden misunderstanding of his intent I burst out with “oh no, bro, oh no…we’re not doing it that way; no back door, Miki. Maybe some other time, but not tonight. I’m not ready…” but my protests were cut off as his cock skifully glided into my vagina, as his hands grasped my hips and lifted me slightly with his first plunge into me.
I gasped, gasped harder than any of our sex had made me gasp, as I felt my brother’s cock thrust into me more deeply than it ever had. I was stunned by the understanding that, familiar lovers that we’d already become, my brother could still shock me with pleasure in new ways. But I had little time to think about Miki’s newfound expertise as his cock hit spots within me that it had never reached. My gasps continued until I climaxed. I’ve described other orgasms that my brother gave me as hurricanes; approaching, growing. But this one hit me like a sudden earthquake, as if the San Andreas fault had suddenly opened and as if I’d fallen into its orgasmic depths. I wasn’t alone in those depths for long as I felt Miki behind me stiffen, grip my hips in a death grip, and thrust himself one last time deeper into me than ever as his cock pulsed its familiar pumping of his seed into me. Or rather into our condom.
On more than one occasion we had to make hurried arrangements after coming down from our incestuous euphoria; beds remade, stained cloths or towels safely stored in laundry bins, windows opened to remove the rooms’ sexual musk, showers quickly taken, and clothes reoccupied before we heard the approach of our parents’ car in the driveway. But probably the hardest step of all was to quickly assume an air of normalcy, that casual detachment that siblings would normally display. Miki and I became masters at it.
My sixteenth birthday arrived and, declining mom’s offer of a party, we opted instead for a family dinner at the restaurant of my choice. It went well and the occasion seemed to encourage more than the normal familial affection among us. So much so that I wondered if my parents might actually address the problem between them that I’d suspected, that mom might actually find her way to giving dad what he - to me - so obviously needed. But the following days suggested to me that it hadn’t happened and wouldn’t happen. Which meant that I needed to bend to my task harder and advance it on schedule.
That schedule meant a quick attendance at our town’s family planning clinic so, true to my word to Miki, I arranged an appointment. Thinking it through and having heard my friends’ accounts of their own appointments I realized that any sense of normalcy would have to include mom. So I began the process with as casual a mention as I could manage, suggesting that maybe it was time that I thought about such things although, I quickly added, I had no plans and no boyfriend in mind. I was surprised at how easily she took the suggestion and agreed that it was time that I “took precautions” as she expressed it. And I was just as surprised by the appointment itself, by the quiet and respectful advice the clinic’s nurse gave me and by the maturity in me that she seemed to assume. Supply of pills in hand, mom and I returned home. After she parked in our driveway by unspoken assent we sat together in the car, each in our own way absorbing what we’d just done, until she leaned over and took me in a silent hug, a kind of welcoming me to womanhood. It was perhaps the most intimate gesture from her that I could recall and it brought tears to my eyes.
A thought occurs to me; you might be wondering about my sexual appetite, which Miki had so profoundly awakened: what about other boys? What about my high school male classmates? Did my appetite include them? Did I envision myself, for example, in bed with any of them? Strangely, no. I somehow knew that that would come with time; enough of my circle of girlfriends were happy to recount their growing sexual experience, often almost in a challenging or competitive way. But my secret sex with my brother seemed more than enough to feed my growing sexual appetite. I was at no risk, I knew (even if my mother didn’t) of falling into bed with some random boy. The simple fact is that most of my male contemporaries at school seemed pretty immature. At least by comparison to my brother.
I took the first of the pills that night and, following the nurse’s instructions, knew that their contraceptive effect would kick in a week later. That, of course, fell on a weekday so that Miki and I, despite our eager state, would have to wait until the following weekend, fingers crossed that our parents would allow us the chance for our first unhindered sex, our first ‘bareback’, as Miki had called it. And chance smiled on us as mom and dad headed out to dinner with old friends from the dance community.
I won’t bore you with clinical details other than to say that Miki and my anticipation was well deserved; our first condom-less incestuous coupling was fantastic. Maybe it was part psychological, the idea of the last barrier between us having disappeared, but I think our new, total nakedness did bring heightened physical ecstasy. At least it did for me and, by his immediate post-coital whispers, for my brother as well. Despite our couple of months’ incestuous sex and our numerous copulations, Miki reported that he still reveled in my tightness, although our skin-to-skin coupling seemed quicker, easier. As always, my brother brought me to a crashing orgasm quickly but I well remember two new experiences; first, the wetness. Somehow his cock, unsheathed, seemed wetter, seemed to enter me, to move with his pistoning, easier. And then the euphoric surprise of feeling my brother’s flood of semen soak my womb, the sudden realization that over 200,000,000 of Miki’s sperm were released into me, millions launched with every pulse of his cock, millions in their desperate search for my eggs. Yes, it was wetness that seemed an enduring memory; the wetness of our probing kisses, the wetness of our sweating, heaving bodies, the wetness of Miki’s seed soaking my womb. And how could I not remember, when we fucked three times that night? When we celebrated our new truly naked state? Mine was a hurried departure from my brother’s bedroom, a speedy gathering of clothes and towel, of window-opening, and showers before our parents’ return.
And all just in time as my academy interview and audition rapidly approached. In the days prior I couldn’t hide my nervousness and my parents smiled, taking it as pre-performance nerves. They were only partly right; yes, pre-performance, but it wasn’t the dance performance I was thinking about. The weekend finally arrived and there were hugs as mom and Miki sent my dad and me off for the big event. No one seemed to notice Miki’s longer than usual hug, his whispered “good luck” and his conspiratorial wink as we put my suitcase in the car.
Once in the car and on the road I relaxed, glancing occasionally to my dad who seemed content and calm at the wheel. We chatted idly about the interview, about the questions the panel was likely to ask, and he asked me what dance I’d chosen for Sunday’s audition. When I told him the particular scene from The Afternoon Of The Faun one eyebrow rose at his surprise. “That’s a…ummm….challenging piece, Matti.” And I read the subtext in his choice of “challenging”. It’s seen by many as erotic, as pushing the envelope, but it’s also acknowledged as demanding.
“I think I’m up to it, dad,” I smiled. In a couple of hours we arrived at our hotel and checked in. By now it was midday and my calmness was beginning to be replaced by a growing nervousness. Dad saw that so he distracted me with lunch at a nearby diner and, knowing me as well as he did, it worked. After a burger and fries I was ready to “don my armour” as I told dad so that we returned to our suite and I disappeared into the bathroom to prepare. I spent 20 minutes working the magic that Isobel had taught me, brushed my hair, and finally donned my chosen “sexy-but-not-too-sexy” dress. I took a deep breath and then swept into the suite, careful to avoid my dad’s eyes. But the lengthening silence that followed my emergence demanded that I finally glance toward dad. His expression was very hard to read. Surprise, yes, that was clear. But mixed in with approval, a quick appraisal of all of me, maybe even a first-time realization of the young woman that “his little girl” had turned into. His gaze lasted long enough that I felt my blush rise as I asked quietly “ok, dad?”
“Better than ok,” was his quick and, I thought, unguarded reply, “you look great, Matti,” then with more feeling, “really great.” That didn’t help my blush at all. Our eyes locked for a few very long, freighted seconds before we simultaneously broke the look and distracted ourselves with final preparations. We were silent during the short drive to the academy and I hoped it was due to my approaching interview and not to those long seconds in our hotel room. But a part of my mind began a reappraisal, began to realize that if my dad’s eyes held any of the meaning I thought I saw in them…then maybe my plan was already afoot.
The interview went very well. The small panel had already reviewed the video we’d submitted of my dancing and asked informed, thoughtful questions and I sensed my “new Matti”, the maturity I’d added with Isobel’s help had its intended effect on the panel. About half way through the interview, relaxing more into the process, I began to realize that the panel weren’t the only ones sensing my new maturity; a glance toward my dad confirmed that his hotel room surprise and pride still held. I shifted slightly on my chair and crossed my legs; we were close enough to the panel’s table that they wouldn’t notice, but my heart leapt when I saw that my dad immediately did. The slight glide of my dress a couple of inches up my thigh, I could see, was noted by dad. Finally, with smiles, handshakes all around, and a brief chat about my audition set for Sunday morning, we left the academy and returned to our car.
I was surprised when, instead of immediately starting the car, we sat quietly in the parking lot for a few minutes, dad’s hands on the wheel as he stared out the windshield. Finally he started the car and wordlessly drove us to a nearby park. He parked the car and came around to my side as I sat, querulous, until he opened my door and gallantly took my hand. “Let’s go for a walk,” he smiled, “now that we’ve got time to kill.” I was only too glad to take him up on it and, getting into it, left the car in as ladylike manner as I could muster thanking “kind sir” with my smile.
Dad didn’t release my hand as we entered the park and began an aimless saunter along its paths. Finally, we found a pond side bench and sat together, my hand still in his. We sat in a comfortable silence until I finally asked “well?”
“It went very well, Matti; I think you’re a shoo-in. I’m sure you’ll do well tomorrow. It’ll be a big change, Matti; you…we…will be heading down here every month. It means more dedication, more intensity in your dancing. It means, well, taking a bite out of your social life.”
At that I laughed and said “dad, what social life? You know that dance and family…dance and you…are my world.” And with that I slid across the bench and leaned against him as he wrapped his arm around me. It was bliss, pure bliss to be held so close by my dad. His love and warmth even pushed for the moment my plans and goal for him out of my mind. Finally we rose and he announced that it was almost dinner time so that we should celebrate. Instead of returning to our room we found an inviting looking bistro near the hotel, found a table and ordered. Dad continued the celebration with a carafe of wine and my “armor” also continued to work as the waiter placed two wineglasses without even glancing at me. Dad poured a small amount into my glass, filled his, and then before he could speak I raised my glass and offered “a toast, dad, to dance, to your support, to your love,” I said quietly, emphasizing the word, “that has carried me for so long.” We clinked glasses, smiled and sipped our wine. As my hand slipped across the table and took his in it I’d never felt more womanly in my life. Truthfully, I could have sat there with his hand in mine for hours.
Dinner done it was a short trip back to our room and, I realized, the final step in my campaign. As dad sat on the couch I innocently mentioned that he was right; my chosen scene from The Faun is a difficult one. Would he mind if we ran through a quick rehearsal? He laughed and tried to beg off with “Matts, I haven’t danced in a while,” but I was having none of it. Kicking off my shoes and moving chairs to make room I dug my computer out of my suitcase, found the music I’d programmed, and reached down to him as its strains began to fill the room. He smiled again, said “no promises,” and easily slipped into his role in the dance. And dance we did as we filled our room with slow, graceful, wordless moves, our dance becoming slowly, almost imperceptibly, more and more emotional, more erotic. I moved easily, still feeling the soft glow of the wine as my body communicated the erotic subtext of the dance. And dad’s years of dance returned as he instinctively responded with the same unspoken meaning.
But too soon, it seemed, the music stopped and I knew I wasn’t mistaken in the disappointment I sensed in my dad. I thought he’d probably happily repeat the “rehearsal” but, knowing what was quickly to follow, I moved to him and took him in a quiet hug, one that he willingly returned. And then the other music began as the first note of “Unchained Melody” quietly began to fill the room. Glancing up at my dad’s face I could see no puzzlement, no hesitation as we began to slowly circle the room, as he took my right hand in his left in a classic dancer’s pose, as I rested my head against his chest. More long minutes of bliss until the music stopped and we stood together, neither wanting to break our touch. When the second song began, as “When A Man Loves A Woman” began he dropped my hand and wrapped me in a close hug so that more of my body, now warmed by his, touched as we moved even more slowly in our dance. As the song was about to end I knew it was time, knew I was ready and hope that my dad was ready. I leaned up to him and kissed him. Kissed him slowly, almost beseechingly, then returned my cheek to his chest. My message had been unmistakable and I waited for his response. It was quick in coming as he leaned down and kissed my hair. That was my signal, my permission; I bent my head back again so that this time instead of Matti kissing her dad, her dad kissed her. His kiss was so hungry that I parted my lips slightly with my invitation and his tongue quickly accepted. Within seconds our tongues were dancing together, our hands caressing each other’s back, hips, sides until I reached up and pulled my father into a long, passionate kiss.
Pressing against him I easily felt his unmistakable hardness and, reaching down, began unbuckling his belt, my feverish mind thanking Miki for helping me to learn this essential step. All the while I thought “he’ll stop me now…he’ll protest…his hand will catch mine,” but nothing happened. Nothing, that is, other than my unclasping his belt and letting his trousers fall as I slowly descended to my knees all the while gliding my hands down my father’s back, his sides, his legs until I was face to face with his tented underwear. I reached out and touched him lightly as I dimly registered his moan and felt his hands entwining his fingers in my hair. I hooked my fingers on the band of his shorts and pulled, freeing his cock. Now it was my turn to gasp at my first view of my dad’s stiff cock, the small amount of analytical power left to me realizing that it was thicker, substantially thicker than my brother’s although, I thought, only slightly longer.
I was in awe; even though I was so close to my goal, even though my mind had played this scene out countless times, I was genuinely awestruck by the sight of of my father’s eager, stiff cock inches from me. I took him lightly in my fingers as I leaned forward and took his glans into my mouth, licking it hungrily, tasting for the first time my dad’s pre-cum. I recovered myself sufficiently to realize that now time was of the essence and rose quickly, kissed my father again and quickly reached around and released the zipper of my dress and let if fall to the carpet, joining my father’s clothes in a jumbled pile. I quickly pulled dad’s golf shirt over his head, unsnapped my bra, and pushed my panties to the floor. Before my father could utter a word of protest I’d made us totally naked together.
I sensed his reluctance growing so, kissing him again, I drew him down to the bed and quickly wove our bodies together, throwing one leg over him, wrapping him in a hug that he instinctively reciprocated. The first words he could utter were echoes of Miki’s at our first conjoining; “Oh god, Matti, I…oh Jesus…I…” muffled quickly with our kisses, until he was able finally to reach the point I expected and had anticipated as he drew back and began “Matti…we can’t…I’m your father…we can’t…this is wrong.” Hardly a complete sentence but I knew his meaning.
“Why, dad? Why is it wrong? You need this so badly, I know. I love you more than anything in the word and I know you love me. Why can’t we just love each other then? I want this, dad, I want this as much as you do.”
As reason seemed to return he replied “it’s wrong, it’s a crime.”
“Why is it wrong? How can something that feels this good be wrong? You know I’ll never tell anyone and I know you won’t either. I’m old enough to know what I’m doing.” And then I took a breath and played my trump card, I thought: “I don’t care what the world says or thinks, dad, I’m old enough to consent. And I do consent. More than that, I want you. I want you, daddy (I hadn’t called my father ‘daddy’ in ten years), I want my daddy to make love to his little girl.” With that and with his groan he rolled toward me and kissed me harder, deeper, more passionately than he had so far. And I returned his kisses just as passionately, thanking my brother again for the lessons we’d learned together.
But now came a critical point. It would have been the easiest thing of all for me simply to straddle my father and sink down onto his rigid shaft, but the very last step of my plan was different. I needed my father to commit, to somehow take ownership of what we were about to do. I don’t mean responsibility; I knew I was fully responsible for what we were doing. I knew that I was seducing my father. But I wanted him to take some control, so that I rolled onto my back and gently guided him as he rose from his side and took his position above me, resting between my thighs as I spread them for him, signalling unmistakably my permission and need. We kissed briefly again until I reached down, found my father’s rock hard cock, and guided him into me.
And now there was no hesitation, no reluctance, no resistance from either of us as my father pushed hard, the mix of his pre-cum and my vaginal juices easily lubricating him, my pussy’s walls and muscles straining as his thick cock stretched them beyond what Miki’s shaft had done. Now it was my turn to mutter incoherent words as dad’s cock pressed in as I felt the unprecedented pleasure of a grown man’s cock stretching and filling me. “Oh god, daddy, I…OH. MY. GOD. I’m…you’re oh god, daddy, I love you I…UNNGGHHH…” as the first wave of pleasure shot through my body, shot from the soles of my feet up my legs, crashing through my pussy and carrying on to engulf my whole body. I was beginning to shake now as my father began to pull out and then press back into me, the prelude to a rhythm he quickly found, thrusting into me with a quickening beat. For the umpteenth time I mentally thanked my brother for preparing me for this, for the orgasm that I knew was coming very quickly.
And quick it was; within very short minutes of my father entering me I was wracked with an orgasm that shook both of us. “Oh god, daddy, YEEESSS, yes, fuck me daddy, fuck your little girl. I love you daddy…UUNNNGGH”. With that my father found new energy as he began to fuck me with an abandon that amazed me, all of his pent up need now feeling his rapid thrusts into me until finally he suddenly stopped and began to mutter about “pulling out…”. “NO,” I almost shouted “come in me, dad, come in me. It’s ok…it’s safe…just come inside your little girl” and that’s all it took as I felt his thick cock begin its pulsing, its pumping as rope after rope of my father’s seed was pumped into my womb, soaking it, soaking my vaginal walls with his semen. Even used as I was by now to the flood of my brother’s sperm soaking me, this shocked me as I felt my father’s flooding semen filling my womb, spasm after spasm until it found no more space and began to squeeze out of me, soaking the shaft that had produced it as it left me.
I could feel my father’s body’s sudden stop, his sudden motionless, the few brief moments of his orgasm seeming to stretch into an infinity for me as I absorbed what we had just done, as I exulted in the final success of my months of planning and preparing. As I felt all of this, as I burst into laughter, I felt his arms beside me beginning to shake with the continued strain of them supporting him above me until finally, with a deep, guttural - almost feral - moan he began to lower himself onto my eager waiting body, feeling ecstatic as my father’s body lowered itself slowly onto mine, feeling the bed give more, envelop our bodies together with its soft embrace.
My father’s face was buried in my hair, his lips pressing hard against that spot where my neck met my shoulder, kissing it hungrily as I rolled us gently onto our sides. Suddenly the kisses stopped as I felt my father’s body begin to shake, began to feel his sobs as he continued to bury his face in my hair until I felt the wetness of his tears against my neck. And now it was as if our roles had changed, as if he were the child and I the parent, holding him, caressing him, uttering soft soothing sounds to calm and comfort him. Because I knew that his sobs came from that same place of his deep need that had driven him into me a few minutes before, had powered his rhythm as he thrust into me over and over. I knew that his sobs confirmed what I had suspected, what I had told Miki, that our father had buried his sexual needs for so long that my seduction had released a volcano of emotions with my father. And as his sobs slowly quieted I smiled knowing how right I’d been.
And I continued to smile as dad finally lifted his face, finally gathered the courage to look his daughter in the eye, his face a storm of emotions; shame, fear, relief. I could see them all as I continued to smile and leaned into a kiss. As my father returned my kiss I realized that relief was overcoming the other emotions. “I love you, dad,” I said, “and I wanted to do what we just did. I wanted to give you what I think you’ve needed for a long time.”
“How did you know? How…” his voice trailed off.
“I don’t know; a woman’s instinct, I guess?” and kissed him again.
“I…we…I can’t do that again, Matti, it’s…”
“What, ‘wrong’? Is that what you’re going to say, dad? That two responsible people that love each other can’t actually make love? That two responsible people can’t make their own decisions? Daddy,” (there it was again), “I love you. And you love me. And you need to love me the way you just did. You need to every facet of your love and I want to help you to do that.” And then I played my final card with “and who are we hurting? How can love like this possibly be bad?” His silence and, after a pause, his deep kiss told me that my points had landed, that my argument had been accepted.
We lay together for probably another quarter hour until I decided it was my turn, that I could hammer home the final nail in my argument, show my dad that I was truly committed to what I had just said to him. With a slow, deep kiss, as our tongues continued their mutual education, my hand drifted down until it found his semi-flaccid cock and began softly caressing it, squeezing and encouraging it. He moaned quietly as my encouragement took almost immediate effect. Within seconds, it seemed, my father was hard for me. This time I luxuriated in the few minutes I allowed myself to learn my father’s cock tactilely as my fingers drifted along it, recognizing the same bumps and veins I’d long since learned from my brother’s penis. Almost unconsciously my hand was learning the similarities and the differences between my brother’s and my father’s cocks. “Wider,” I thought, clearly thicker as my hand lightly gripped dad’s stiff cock. “But possibly a little bit shorter,” my analysis continued, and I giggled at the thought.
“What?” my father asked.
“Nothing, daddy, nothing at all,” I replied as I pushed him gently onto his back and swung myself over him, straddling his thighs. I giggled again as I crept up, leaning over him and wordlessly inviting him…until he understood and took up the offer, craning his neck until he could take each nipple and breast in turn between his lips, kissing, sucking, licking as the bolts of pleasure shot through my entire body. Finally returning to my task I raised myself above him, found his stiff cock with one hand, and guided it to me, sliding it gently up and down my opening, lubricating us both until neither of us could take it any more and lowered myself onto my father’s waiting cock.
And with that and with the cadence that my young dancer’s hips quickly established, with the thrusts that I maintained, sliding up and down my father’s cock, with the gasps of pleasure that I couldn’t repress, I proved to my dad my complete commitment to our newfound love, showed that I wanted to give him all the things that he needed and to take from him all that he was willing to give. And give he did as his hips began to meet my thrusts, as he pulled me down to him and held me in a hug that went far, far beyond a father and daughter embrace. We had melded together by then, joined in the incandescent heat of our passion, now almost perfectly joined into one organism. I felt like his heart beat in my body, like my blood flowed in his veins, like nothing could ever separate us again into two distinct bodies. Society has decreed that our shared genes meant we were deep into incest, but I loved it; I loved being held so close to him that I could whisper into his ear “fuck me, daddy, fuck your little girl. You know you want to, you know you need to - fuck me..UUUNNHHHH” as my orgasm struck without warning, as I felt the waves of my vaginal muscles gripping my father’s cock over and over, my body shaking with my climax. And that was enough to trigger dad’s release as he moaned deeply and lifted us both from the bed as his cock began again to pump pulse after pulse of his seed into me, soaking his daughter’s womb again with his semen.
I collapsed on dad much as he’d collapsed on me a half hour earlier. But now he seemed unaware of my weight, seemed happy to keep me there, sharing our glow of sexual exhaustion. I was practically motionless, my breath my only movement, while dad’s strong hands glided up and down my back and sides, caressing, touching, occasionally lightly gripping. Finally, returning to the real world, I laughed lightly and said “daddy, we have to sleep; I have to dance tomorrow, remember?” His soft chuckle told me, finally, that we had arrived. That I had been right all along. That my father accepted me as his lover. That I could give my father what I’d known he’d needed for so long. And that I would continue to meet his needs for as long as I…for as long as we could.
I doubt I’ve ever slept as soundly as I did that night, only occasionally dimly aware of the warm body in bed next to me, occasionally spooning together, sometimes with my arm over my father’s sleeping body, sometimes with his over mine. I awoke first and took those first few seconds to realize it hadn’t been a dream, to remind myself how right my months of worry and concern had been. I had been right about the void in my father’s life and I had begun to fill it last night. I awoke holding dad in my arms and rested for long minutes quietly feeling his breathing, inhaling his scent. Finally I gently rolled onto my back and watched the early light begin to flood our room and creep across the ceiling, frequently reaching over to touch my father. Just to reassure myself that it was all real.
Finally he stirred and awoke. I had anticipated this moment for a very long time; over the months I had, as with every other step, thought about it. Now my focus was almost total: how will he be? Will he hate himself for what we did? Will he hate me? Will there be crushing guilt, recriminations and accusations? Because he would be right to accuse me. He would be right to blame his daughter for seducing him, for drawing him into a criminal act of incest. And who would believe his account? That his daughter offered herself with an offer he was powerless to refuse? I turned onto my side, facing him, bracing myself for the most powerful denunciation my father was capable of. But as his eyes opened and as he turned to face me, as he slowly smiled, as his hand reached out to draw me to him, all of those worries vanished. Simply disappeared never to be seen or thought of again.
Because he drew me into a hug, a warm, enveloping hug as any father might give his daughter. And I felt it to my core; I felt once again like my daddy’s little girl, safe, warm, and protected in his arms. Until he leaned down and kissed my hair lightly, until I tilted my head up to kiss him in return, until we were almost instantly transported back to last night’s passion. Tongues once again joyously dancing together, hands once more with minds of their own tracing each other’s curves, his gliding along my side, slipping down to my hip, caressing it several times before drifting to my back and tracing the corrugation of my spine. And all the while my hands were matching his, tracing the muscles of his chest, taking in for the first time the hair covering his muscles, thrilling to the flatness of his midriff, drifting down, down down, until…
“Matti,” he whispered, “you have to dance. You need your focus, your energy.”
“Dance, daddy? Did you say ‘dance’? Didn’t we dance last night? Who was my first dance teacher, daddy? I’m sure you have more dancing to teach your little girl?” as my fingers found his cock, as I giggled at its rapid hardening. “Seems like someone, at least, wants to dance with Matti” and I giggled again as I fell back onto the bed and easily drew my father to me. And dance we did. We began our perfect pas de deux as my father swung across me. Was it a plié as I bent my knees and rested my soles on the bed, my thighs a soft valley to welcome my father? By now my father’s cock was well elevé, stiff and proud, eager and willing. And he executed a perfect fondu as he lowered himself slowly to me and, finally, his petit saut, his ‘small jump’ as he pressed forward, pushing himself into me. Slowly, at first just his glans, and as he held himself above me so that we could both watch, the engorged head of his penis seemed almost as large as an onion, and almost the same color in its redness. His saut continued as he began to thrust himself more deeply. We were both so engrossed by the sight of our incestuous conjoining that I doubt that he heard my gasps as my vagina, wetted for him with my juices, welcomed him. Or that he heard my moans as my lizard brain began to record and remember the feel of his cock, wider and thicker than my brother’s, recording those small differences as my father performed his tendu, stretching his daughter’s cunt to its ecstatic limits. And then we entered the final pas de deux as our bodies began a perfect rhythmic dance, as he withdrew almost out of me only to thrust back again and again into my hot, wet depths.
We were both breathing harder and harder now, harder than either of us had ever in balletic dance, our breathing interrupted frequently by gasps as new shocks of pleasure struck. As our tempo sped up by unspoken understanding borne of years of dance I felt myself approaching the cliff edge, the border of that orgasmic abyss that would take me, that would suffuse every cell of my body with the extreme and unprecedented pleasure my father was about to give me all I could do was to utter into his ear “I’m…I’m coming, dad, I’m…” when all words were robbed from me, when my body began to shake as I fell over that cliff, tumbled into that abyss felt almost as if I was drowning that perfect in the wave after wave of orgasm that shook and shocked me.
Dad froze then, absorbing the thrill of my climax vicariously, feeling the tectonic eruption of my body, his cock deep inside his daughter, his seismograph recording every contraction of my vaginal muscles, every effort of them to squeeze his sperm from him. Finally after long seconds, as I began to breathe again he quickly resumed his thrusts until he quickly reached his own limit, arched his back above me as I instinctively wrapped my legs around him and pulled him as deeply into me as I possibly could. And then felt the pulses of his cock as he performed one last grand jeté and launched rope after rope of his seed into my waiting and eager womb. Memories bombarded me even as I reached my second orgasm, memories of the first time I felt Miki’s cum soaking my vagina and the more recent recollection of my father’s cum flooding my womb only eight or nine hours before. We finally fell onto our sides, still holding each other’s sweat-soaked body close, my father’s softening cock still within me until with a soft plopping sound it fell out. Even as I felt his cum escaping me, even as its drips crossed my thigh, we lay wordless, only our eyes speaking to each other.
“Matti,” he began, “this has been amazing. I don’t know how you knew how much I needed this. I don’t think even I knew. But it’s wrong. I love you, but we can’t do this. It’s a criminal act.”
I knew this would come and I’m not sure I’d really prepared a response. “Are we having our first argument?” I smiled, trying to lighten the moment. My dad’s small smile told me I wasn’t wrong. “You love me; I know that, dad. But I love you too. I love you more than you can possibly know and I want to love you in every way that I can. I can’t stand the obvious pain I’ve seen with you for a long time now. It’s almost palpable, dad, it’s almost like it makes the air I breathe thickened. I can help you with that pain, dad. Every time I touch you, every time we make love it will be the most powerful pain reliever you have ever taken. His silence, his inclined head, told me that my words were sinking in.
“But how can we…and you; is it safe?”
“If I’m accepted to the academy, for a start, I will have to travel here every couple of weeks. That’s the bare minimum, dad. It’s an obvious routine for you to accompany me. I want to make love every time. And there might be other times. But we have to be incredibly careful. Your manner can’t suddenly change, dad. I’m hoping I can make you happy - in fact I know I can. And will. But we can’t show that, or at least let it show very slowly. Mom has fantastic instincts and we can’t let her think you’re having an affair. Right?” He nodded. “Oh, and by the way; yes, it’s safe. I’ve been on the pill for a while now. No problem there.” I glanced at my watch and said “time to get moving, dad; we have a couple of hours yet but I’m absolutely famished. Sex with you must have used up a lot of calories,” and was rewarded with my dad’s burst of laughter.
We quickly showered and dressed, packed my dance articles and accessories, and headed out. I wasn’t kidding; I truly was famished and my father’s eyes widened as I demolished two plates from a diner’s breakfast buffet. We arrived at the academy early as I’d wished. I wanted to be dressed well in advance so that I could find some solitude and focus on my dance. As it turned out I might not have needed to focus; the dance was one of the easiest I’d ever performed.
My partner was familiar with the scene from Afternoon Of A Faun and we began our dance as the strains of Debussy filled the room. We moved smoothly at first, but a bit mechanistically until I made the mental adjustment I’d planned. Within seconds of our beginning I closed my eyes for an instant and transformed my dance partner into…my father. I imagined it was him that I was dancing with, him that was the target of my seductive dance. And my partner, as any good dancer would, very quickly picked up my vibe and began to respond expertly to my dance. Move after move was answered by him as the tension and passion grew to the finale. We both stopped, drained by the dance, our heads hung. And then I heard it; a slow, single clap from one of the three judges. My head snapped up to see the other two joining until there was a chorus of applause. One judge’s mouth hung slightly open even as she clapped.
Then, conscious of their unprecedented gesture, the judges fell silent until one said “Well, I guess it’s fair to say that you’ve passed the audition,” triggering laughter from the other two and a broad smile from my dad. My dance partner and I bowed briefly to each other and then I danced au pointe into my father’s arms.
Changed into my travel clothes and back in the car my dad and I sat together quietly, both of us still basking in the euphoria of my performance and my instant acceptance into the academy. Finally I placed my hand gently on his thigh and as he turned and looked at me I reminded him “Our checkout isn’t for another couple of hours, is it, dad?” and gave him a roguish smile, my meaning clear. Without a word he drove us back to our hotel and back to our room. Entering the room he quickly placed the “Do Not Disturb” tag on our door and within minutes we were naked again in our by now well-used bed. Revelling in my father’s acceptance of my plan, rejoicing in his need that I was now filling, I made more aggressive love to my father than I ever had either to him or to my brother Miki. I made my hunger obvious, taking charge as my father accepted everything I wanted to give him. I quickly took him in my mouth, tasting his pre-cum for the first time, pushing down his shaft as I possibly could, all the while mentally thanking my brother for teaching me this skill. I licked his glans, sucked him, moved my lips up and down his cock all the while stroking the part I couldn’t accommodate with my mouth until I felt his orgasm building, heard his warning that he was about to come. I accelerated, eager to taste his cum for the first time and seconds later I had my wish as my father shot burst after burst of sperm into my hungry mouth. I swallowed and swallowed until his pulses stopped. I let his soft penis fall from my mouth as I laughed, wiped some errant semen from my lips, and kissed him, laughing again at his widening amazed eyes.
It was my turn almost immediately as dad pushed me back onto the bed and quickly went down on me, pressing my thighs apart and beginning with a maddening nuzzle, delaying, refusing my demand that he taste his daughter, until finally I felt his tongue make its first foray into my opening. It was more and better than I’d ever hoped for, the phenomenal pleasure of my father’s probing tongue tasting me for the first time, his tongue exploring, learning the topography of my young pussy. My body was writhing with the pleasure until suddenly he reached my clitoris and began to circle it, driving me into stratospheric levels of sexual pleasure. Within seconds I was coming, my hungry pussy releasing my fluids to my father’s tongue. Wave after wave of my orgasm struck so that it was almost impossible for dad to keep up his task even as his arms wrapped around my hips and thighs to hold me to him.
I lay panting beside him for long minutes until my father finally rose from the bed to get a glass of water. I took the opportunity to implement my the final step of my plan. When I had begin sensing my dad’s hunger, his sexual need, the deep longing that his carnal desert must have existed deep within him I was reminded of a lesson at school about the earth’s structure, how its thin crust sat upon a heated mantle but that at its very core was an incredibly hot and molten mass. That, I thought, might have described my dad. And I knew he needed to release some of that molten core. I knew that our lovemaking had to be replaced, even briefly, with lust. Pure, unadorned lust. And now I took that opportunity.
As dad returned to the bed I was ready and his fully erected cock, bouncing as he strode to our bed, signaled his readiness. I quickly rose onto to my knees, kissed him quickly, and immediately gathered all the pillows, smiling at the querulous look on his face. I placed all but one beneath my stomach and saved one for my head. For my face, actually, as I buried it in the pillow, pausing only long enough to to turn and tell my father “fuck me, dad, fuck your little girl. Fuck me as hard as you want…as hard as you can. Put that huge, stiff cock into your little girl. Pound my pussy; I need you and you need me.”
The expression on his face proved my suspicions as his face became almost grim, his eyes hungry, his lips drawn to thin lines. Gone now was the gentle lovemaking of last night. Gone now was his fatherly lover’s affection. He instantly positioned himself behind me and without words or warning thrust himself immediately deep into me, his only sound a feral grunt. My body leapt a couple of inches with the power of his thrust but I held my ground (or bed), dug my face into the pillow and began to absorb the impact - there was no other word for it - of his repeated onslaught, his plunges reaching deeper and deeper into me. It was as if this magnificent cock was stabbing me over and over but this was a stabbing I loved, that I wanted never to end as his cock reached places that neither my brother Miki’s had more even my father’s in last night’s sexual peaks. And it didn’t end with my climax as my body shook, flooded with the orgasm that hit me like a truck, carrying me into an insensibility as all sense but the euphoric sexual pleasure filled virtually every cell in my body.
My body knew its limits, it seemed, as the orgasm lessened even as my father continued his thrusts. I could hear his grunts through his gritted teeth until finally he too reached his limit. I knew this, felt his impending orgasm by the sudden steely grip on my hips, by his final impaling, by his deepest lunge into his daughter, one that practically lifted me off the bed as his body stiffened, shook, and began launching rope after rope of his semen to flood my womb. It was the longest of his orgasms with me so far as his breathing came in pants and gasps, as his grip on my hips continued until my second orgasm struck and joined with his. He seemed then to collapse onto me, his head and neck resting on my back, his kisses now mingling with his sobs. It was only my posture that kept us, briefly, from collapsing onto the bed.
Finally I lowered us both to the bed as slowly as I could and allowed our bodies to collapse into a tangled mass. He was still sobbing as I clutched him to my breasts, held him, comforted him, spoke soft words to him. Once again it seemed for brief moments that our parent and child relationship had been reversed. But only for a few moments as finally his sobbing stopped and he drew back, looked at me, and asked “how did you know?”
“I don’t know, dad, I just did. I knew that you needed that very badly. I love it when we make love, dad, but I know that deep down sometimes you just need to fuck, I mean really fuck me. And I love that too.” We kissed long and deeply then until finally we knew time’s winged chariot was hurrying near, as the poet said. Finally we reluctantly rose from the bed, had quick showers, surveyed the room for obvious evidence of our carnal incestuous activities, opened the window to clear the room of the sexual musk that lay heavily in it, gathered our things, and checked out.
The drive home was a quiet one, each of us processing the profound truth that now confronted us, that we had committed one of the greatest sins, broken one of the strongest taboos that our society had to offer. And as that sunk in, as I held my father’s hand while the miles flew by, I felt a peace seem to fill the vehicle. I finally turned to my father and said, simply “I love you, dad,” knowing that that simple phrase embraced so many levels, so many kinds of love; familial, amorous, erotic, carnal, virtually every type of love that our species has devised. Finally, I laughed at the realization that this was just the beginning and that I could expect months - years, I hoped - of incestuous pleasure with my father, of sexual pleasure with someone I truly and deeply loved. And I knew my father understood and accepted that as his laughter joined mine.
And we did continue as lovers. My father did learn to hide his new sexual release, hide and only very slowly show his relief, the dawning happiness that sex with me brought. So carefully and well did he manage that, and so cautious was I about not giving anything away for my part that even years later I know my mother suspected nothing. Our “academy weekends” as they were known were regular, our consuming sexual conjoining during those weekends so fulfilling that I did, after all, bring to my father a sexual healing. We were careful in the extreme to make love at home only when it was entirely risk free; when mom had her own road trips, when dad could quietly sneak into my room to make love. Occasionally when the need became too great and we had only a couple of hours we would fuck; yes, simply fuck in a quick and vigorous sexual union. More than once we had sex with me leaning over our washing machine, both of us laughing at the sight and at the relief we both felt that our incest brought.
By the time I went to college on a dance scholarship we were long established and very experienced lovers. Our lovemaking was restricted to dad’s occasional visit to our campus or my holiday returns home. I was fortunate that Miki had chosen the same college so that I could continue having sex with someone that I loved. And for his part Miki never questioned or resented my sexual life with our father. I think as he grew older he began to understand our father’s long stay in his sexual desert and the oasis that my love gave him. And our family stayed together. Tell me that isn’t worth doing?