Stephen A. Jones

Sex With Daddy

Chapter 1

The first time I fucked my own father, it changed my whole life. I'd never had a cock in me before and then, when I finally learned all the wild, animal joys of completely abandoned sex, all the wonderful ways a male and a female can join their bodies to bring impossible thrills I'd never thought existed, I got so sex hungry I couldn't quit. I did it with my own father, and became a sex pervert; but I was hooked – I liked it and I couldn't stop. I had to have more and more of Daddy's cock in me all the time.

But it began long before that first fuck; it began right after my mother's death. Daddy had to sell the house because of medical bills, and we were forced to move to an apartment. Before that, I had been just another little girl – innocent and pure – but living in the apartment changed everything. I knew almost the moment we both walked in that there was a feeling of lust in the very air of the place. I knew I had to have sex – pure, raw animal sex – and I wanted it with my own daddy.

That move to the apartment was the beginning of our strange life together. We began a subtly different relationship right from the first day there.

There we were, a ten-year-old girl and her father, surrounded by all the impossible junk of twelve years' collection. Because we couldn't do anything else, we both sat on the floor and laughed out loud. We both seemed to feel the urge to laugh at exactly the same instant and, we kept it up for the longest time. The whole situation was absolutely hilarious and we couldn't help ourselves.

Finally, Daddy took a great big breath and still smiling, said, "Well, sweetheart, which would you rather do, sit here and stare at this mess, or go out on your first date? How's dinner and a movie sound?"

Of course, there was no choice. The dinner and movie were much more exciting than any sort of hard work. Although I was anxious to find my room and to put my things away, I knew that all that could wait until the next day. We had moved in on a Friday purposely, so that we could have two full days to put everything in place, and I certainly didn't want to exhaust myself doing it the first night.

Right from the moment I accepted my first "date," Daddy seemed to change from a tired man into a really romantic figure. He started to plan the evening, asking me what I would like, and as I placed a few things around the apartment, he went out to get a newspaper to find out what movies were playing and what restaurants were serving what.

We planned the whole thing together and he even helped me select a dress to wear. Then he told me that the following day he would let me try my hand at decorating the whole apartment.

There never had been any stigma to nudity in our family. We weren't nudists and we hadn't made a point of parading around the house without clothing on, but neither had we run around like prigs and prudes locking doors while we were dressing or doing other such Victorian things to call attention to nudity. I had often seen my mother dressing and Daddy coming out of the shower. I, in turn, had no idea of false or ridiculous modesty. I was taught to be decently dressed in the living room and at meals, regardless of the time of day. But I also knew that there was no shame in nakedness.

Maybe that's why, when we decided on the movie and found out the time, I asked if I could take a shower at the same time he did, so we would be able to eat our dinner without rushing.

By the time of our move, I still was not completely aware of the changes that must have been starting within my mind and body. A eleven, I was just experiencing the first rolling surges of sexual awareness and budding maturity and that evening in the shower, I shocked myself – these things all came to the fore in a way I had hardly expected and hardly knew hoe to explain.

While Daddy adjusted the flow and temperature of the water, I quickly slipped out of my dress and peeled off my panties, socks and shoes. He let me get into the shower while he stripped out of his clothing.

Up until that precise moment, I had never really noticed Daddy's body before. As I looked at him through new eyes, I saw that he was tall and thin, but thin in a way that most people would call wiry. Actually, he was magnificently built compared to most men his age – and for many a lot younger!

He had a little.hair on his chest, but wasn't really a hairy man. His forearms and face were sunburned, making him look as though those extremities had been painted. If I had had to describe his face, I doubt that I would have been able to. Before now, Daddy was just a tall man who sometimes looked older than his thirty years because of worry, and other times seemed almost like a teen-ager. His hair was a light blond and I suppose there must have been a little grey in it, but it was hard to spot because his hair was so light to begin with.

Until that moment when we were about to share our first shower, Daddy had been just plain Daddy – a familiar face and body that were his alone – but that was just Daddy. I had never given either his face or his body a second thought. They were merely part of that familiar fixture of a parent I had always known and never really seen. Daddy was someone I had always taken for granted, but had never really noticed.

But that evening, as I took the soap and started to rub myself with it, I was fascinated by his sexual parts. Even though I had seen them before it was as if I had never really seen them! I couldn't take my eyes off that soft, wet cushion of hair and the beautifully rounded tube that seemed to beckon my attention even though it was obviously completely relaxed.

And something about it excited me so much that I literally had to reach out and touch it – as if some force other than my own was compelling my hand toward my father's prick. Try as I would, I could not stop it from reaching out…

I think my father must have known what was in my mind. At least, I'm sure he saw my hand moving towards his private parts. Without sudden movement, or anger, or any sign of embarrassment, he simply turned around and asked me if I'd mind washing his back. That simple act brought me back to total consciousness, although r could never forget my recent and totally new vision of his rod.

I did wash his back, but while I scrubbed his firm flesh, I also rubbed soap on my own private parts.

That was all that happened in the shower. Yet, from that time on, I experienced terrible excitement and recurring thoughts of my father's prick. And that night, I couldn't get them out of my mind.

Without further incident of any kind, we both dressed and drove to the restaurant where Daddy was a perfect doll of a date. He ordered everything for me and treated me just like a perfect little lady – as if I really was his date and he were thinking of me as a romantic and mysterious woman of the world, instead of his own eleven-year-old daughter.

I felt as if I were in a dream world during the entire meal. Before dinner he ordered me a Shirley Temple and himself a Martini and clinked glasses with me, giving me a knowing wink as if we were sharing some great romantic secret. During the meal, he told me of the things he was studying in school.

He was studying architecture and told me about fantastic buildings in Rome and Milan; all about the tilting tower of Pisa. I allowed my mind to wander with these wonderful romantic thoughts, feeling giddy, half-believing that he was a handsome prince and we were dining at some gloriously old restaurant in Rome or Genoa.

Then, the romance was shattered by the memory of my vision of his penis in the shower. A different feeling soared through me as truly agonizing on one level as it was rapturously exciting on another.

The dinner was delicious, probably more due to my dreams and fancies and the candlelight than to the food itself. We finished just in time to get to the theatre for the first part of the movie.

I don't even remember what the movie was, but I do remember that I held Daddy's hand and in the romance of the silver screen, feeling his strong, protective fingers on mine, I was as much in love as any young girl of my age.

But I was shy, too. Even though I had been thinking of the memory of his penis, I was both ignorant and coy at the same time. Besides, I knew absolutely nothing about.sex except what little my mother had told me. I knew that babies came from seeds and were carried inside their mothers and I knew the names for the male and female sex organs. Maybe she had told me the whole story; but I don't think so. All I knew was that I was experiencing a feeling that was part loneliness and part childish desire for what was beyond my grasp.

I was half asleep when we came out of the movie – I don't remember Daddy carrying me out of the car and putting me to bed. The next morning I found that I was in his bed without my clothing on and that Daddy had slept cm a couch in the main room.

I knew something else when I woke up, too. I knew that I must have dreamed strange and supposedly forbidden thoughts – my pillow was pressed tightly between my legs, against my vagina, and I had succumbed to my first strange and compelling urge that morning! As I was waking from a half-sleep, I felt my own hand moving tenderly down my bare stomach and under the elastic band of my panties. I reached lower, unable to stop my movement and slipped one finger into my sexual parts, only to find that they were pleasantly hot and very, very wet.

I became a little frightened by my feeling of hot wetness and lifted the covers up so that I could inspect myself. All was in order and nothing seemed to look strange, so I lay on top of the pillow and kept my finger slowly moving against myself. Then, again, I saw the vision of Daddy's penis just as I had seen it in the shower the night before, and I had another uncontrollable urge to reach out and touch it.

The thought frightened me but I couldn't stop the movement of my finger – it felt too divinely good and I wanted to keep it up. I don't know how long I would have lain there that way, or even if I might have had my first orgasm by masturbating, but when I heard Daddy call me, I stopped. Feigning being awakened from a deep sleep, I called back, asking what he wanted.

Never shall I ever forget how handsome and happy Daddy looked as he walked into the room bearing a glass of orange juice for me.

"Came on, baby," he said. "We've got a big day ahead of us. I'm going to let you decorate the apartment."

The prospect of decorating the apartment all by myself was so exciting that I fairly gulped the orange juice down in order to get started as soon as possible. But had I any idea just how big that "big day ahead of us" was to be, I think my reaction might have been entirely different.

Chapter 2

All that day, Daddy was the kindest, most considerate man in the whole world – he really did let me decorate the apartment. But first, he fixed us both a big breakfast of bacon and eggs, and while we ate, we sat talking about my ideas for the place. He actually let me select my own room and what furniture I wanted to go where.

Then, after we had cleared the dishes, we started to work together. He would help me move the heavy pieces of furniture and I would experiment with colors and placement. I remember thinking at the time that it was almost like a honeymoon – I was a bride being allowed to decorate her own little cottage. Actually, the apartment wasn't little at all! It had a big living room and three bedrooms, one I selected for myself, one was for Daddy, and the other was for a combination den and library. We put a folding bed in there along with most of Daddy's books and the television set, so that it could be a room for either study or relaxation.

Even though the work was exciting and thrilling for me, it was also very exhausting. By noon both of us were ready to collapse mentally and physically in the cluttered main room. Daddy had brought all of the groceries and stuff from the house, including a six-pack of beer. He poured himself one and returned to the couch.

When I asked him if I could have some, he agreed, but insisted that I get my own glass. Now, I realize many people might think such an act scandalous in itself – and I can't deny that it didn't confine to the letter of the law – but I hardly think that one small glass of beer after a hard morning's work can in any way be labeled as contributing to the delinquency of a minor. Besides, ever since I was eight or so, I had been allowed to have a small glass of beer whenever Daddy did. I guess his theory was that if I was allowed the beverage, I would not sneak around, drinking behind my parents' back.

Anyway, there we sat – he with his big glass of beer and I with a very small one – completely exhausted, yet very, very happy with our new home and satisfied with the work we had done. As we sat there, we didn't talk much, but he did suggest that after we finished the drink, we might both go out on a little shopping spree after lunch.

This, of course, made the day even more exciting. I jumped up and went from room to room looking to see what I might like in the way of accessories; while Daddy remained in the living room with his beer.

When he had finished, he came into my room and found me standing with my.fists on my hips studying the two windows in the corner. He suggested that perhaps it might be easier if I measured them, and produced a pencil, paper and a tape measure, letting me go to work while he went into the bathroom to shave and get ready for our outing.

I don't know yet what it was about the sound of running water in the bathroom that excited me so, but it did. All the visions I'd had about our shower the night before seemed to crowd into my mind in a hopeless confusion so that my hands actually trembled. Then, when I heard the toilet flush and knew that Daddy must have been standing over it urinating, I became so overwhelmed, by my fantasies that I actually had to sit down for fear of collapsing. Finally I gathered enough command of myself to finish my measurements, going from one room to the next, finally coming to Daddy's room.

When I entered, I saw that he was in the process of taking off his clothes of the morning. He glanced at me, saying that we could leave as soon as we changed our clothes. With that, he peeled off his shirt and unbuckled the old pair of ragged pants he had been wearing to work in.

I just stood there, transfixed – compelled to look at his chest and underdrawers and the gentle outline of his sexual organ pressing against them.

"Come on, sweetheart," he told me. "Get into a dress and comb your hair and then we'll go."

I had been wearing an old pair of Levi's and a sweatshirt and I knew it wasn't any sort of outfit in which to go shopping. But, for some strange reason – for the first time in my life – I felt terribly embarrassed about changing in front of Daddy, Although I was fascinated by his partial display of nakedness, I didn't want to display myself in any way. Flustered and terribly excited, I sat down on the edge of the bed, feigning exhaustion, surreptitiously watching my father's private parts as he slipped into a clean shirt and trousers. When I finally went to the bathroom, I was overcome with something close to fear, and locked the door and proceeded to wash my face and comb my hair.

I don't know what I would have done if Daddy had still been in the bedroom when I returned, but he wasn't. I slipped out of my sweatshirt and Levi's, noticing that my undeveloped breasts were quite sore, and hurriedly put on a thin sleeveless dress. Then I combed my hair again and returned to the living room where Daddy was waiting. Hand in hand, we bounced downstairs and started off on our shopping spree.

First, we drove to a big shopping center comprised of several large department stores and had lunch. Then we spent several hours shopping for just the right curtains and shutters we wanted for the apartment.

It was almost dusk when we came back and unloaded all the packages in the front room. Daddy suggested that it might be relaxing if we went downstairs for a swim before he started to fix dinner.

I was tired and, even though still excited about getting the new apartment looking perfect, realized that we only had one more day of complete freedom. So I jumped at the idea. It was still quite light out and the idea of a cooling swim in a heated pool was just what the doctor ordered. Daddy told me to go on ahead, that he would be down in a little while after he had sorted some things; so I hurried and changed into my bathing suit. Grabbing a towel, I rushed down to the apartment house's pool.

I noticed that my bosom was still quite sore, but I thought it was something that would go away, and didn't think too much of it Plunging into the pool, I began to frolic like a dolphin in the crystal clear water. At first I didn't even notice that there was another girl in the pool at the other end and that her mother was lying in one of the chairs on the side taking in the last of the day's sun. But, little by little, we began to splash in the pool together, then we began to talk and become friendly. Her name was Jan Bradley, I learned, and she lived in one of the other apartments. She told me how they had just sold their house, too, and that her parents were divorced.

She was a little older than I – perhaps twelve or thirteen – and seemed to take a motherly interest in me right from the very first! Not only did she introduce me to her mother, who was a very attractive woman perhaps in her late twenties, but she even asked if I could come over to her apartment for dinner after the swim.

I told her that I would have to ask Daddy when he came down to the pool. Knowing that he would be there in only a few minutes, we both went back to splashing and playing in the water.

When Daddy finally came down to the pool, the first thing I noticed was that he was wearing a knit bathing suit with no support. Up until two days ago, I wouldn't have noticed it at all, but now I was aware of his body. I felt dreadfully embarrassed seeing him that way, because I had never noticed any other grown men look like that while swimming. He must have thought that he was dressed properly or just didn't know how prominent the outline of his private parts was. At any rate, he seemed perfectly at ease, while I remained very embarrassed until he dove into the water, covering himself from view. Only then did I regain enough control of myself to swim over to him and ask him if I could have dinner with Jan at her apartment that night.

At first he seemed doubtful, but when Jan told him her mother had agreed, he swam over to where Jan's mother was still sunning herself, talked for a few moments with her and finally agreed.

I didn't take much notice of what was going on between Daddy and Jan's mother, but they must have clicked right from the start. What I didn't find out until later was that they had arranged to go to our apartment while Jan and I ate alone at hers.

We couldn't have been at the pool for more than a half hour or so, and most of that time I spent playing and splashing with Jan while Daddy talked to her mother. Again, I felt a flush of embarrassment about his costume when he pulled himself out of the water and sat on the deck talking with her. It seemed to me that Everyone must be staring at his outlined hot spot. I noticed Mrs. Bradley glance at Dad's crotch from time to time, but her expression was anything but one of embarrassment. I wondered how she could even think of looking like that without blushing.

Finally, Daddy called for me to get out of the pool and get dressed before going over to Jan's for dinner. He and Jan's mother were still talking when I returned a few minutes later, but as Jan and Mrs. Bradley and I walked off toward-their apartment, I noticed Daddy looking after us with a very strange smile on his face – it was a look I had never seen before.

Over at the Bradiey's, Jan's mother fixed us both dinner and then, as We sat down to eat, left us alone while she changed out of her bathing suit. She came back wearing a pair of slacks and a starched blouse and told Jan that she would be back in a little while. We were to eat dinner, clean up the dishes, and after we were through, we could watch television if we liked. She told us that she was going over to my apartment for a while and that, if we got bored with the television, we could go over there.

Almost immediately after Mrs. Bradley had left, we started talking about boys and giggling about sex things. I was very excited about Jan – oh, I didn't have a crush on her or anything – but I was thrilled and excited. Being older than I, her body had already begun to fill out – she had already developed her breasts and they looked almost like those of a grown woman. I was thrilled that within a short time, mine would do the same and asked her if it had hurt because my bosom was still bothering me.

She told me that that was the first sign of growth and that I really ought to get my mother to buy me a brassiere so that I wouldn't rub my nipples against my blouse. When I explained that my mother was dead, Jan seemed surprised. Her only thought of family break-up involved divorce. She talked at length about that she wished her father would come back to her mother and here.

After swearing me to secrecy, Jan explained that it had all happened because of another talking about and told her so. She was very patient and explained that her Mom had caught her father "doing it" with another woman right in their house.

I, of course, didn't know what "doing it" meant, and asked her to explain.

"You know," she said, "making sex, right in the bedroom. Mom came in one day, and there was Daddy and this other woman."

"How do you know?" I asked.

"Oh, I know all about it," she told me. "I knew right from the beginning only I was sort of afraid to tell."

"I don't believe you!"

"Silly! It's true! I guess I knew right from the beginning when I cam home from school and Daddy was with her in the living room."

"Doesn't your father work?" I asked.

"Sure he works' but it's not the same. See, Mom's a secretary downtown and has to stay her office all the time. Daddy had a real estate office and he could off any time he liked. It always used to be funny because I would see him around the house at odd times of the day. I didn't think too much about it when he just happened to be there with this woman when I came home from school that first day."

"But how did you know they were 'doing it'?"

Oh? that. That's easy. I watched."

"You watched! You mean they let you watch them make sex and all?"

"No, silly. Nobody lets you do that."

"Well, then, how did you see?"

"Easy. I just knew they were going to do."

"You knew they were going to make sex, right there in the house?"

"Sure, and I just peeked through the crack in the door."

Throughout this entire conversation, I hung every word. I had just the vaguest idea of what she meant by "doing it" and "making sex", but I was trying hard to act just as sophisticated as I possibly could. Still, I knew nothing more than what my mother had told me long ago about seeds. I was desperately curious about the whole thing! Jan sensed this and finally told me the whole story.

Her father, it seems, had told her to go out and play for an hour or so. And she, sensing what was about to happen, had just pretended to leave. She had actually seen her father and the woman take off their clothes and make love on the bed!

"He got on top of her," she told me with great authority, "and he put his thing right inside her. At first, I thought he was hurting her – but he wasn't really. It was real exciting to watch and all, 'cause they looked like they were having a ball. He played with her up here and all around, then they just sort of did it, bounced around a lot, and lay still for a while. Finally they got dressed again."

"And they did that all the time?" I asked, wanting to hear more.

"Not all the time, silly, but enough. I must have watched them like that twenty times before Mom caught them. I was right outside the window the day she walked in on them. Boy, did she look shook! She just sort of stood there in the door for a minute, her face almost purple, and then walked out, slamming the door hard."

"She didn't scream or anything?"