My Loving Abbajaan (Father, adult daughter)

Searching for Mr. Right doesn't always lead to him.
Sometimes Mr.
Right is Mr. Wrong, and sometimes Mr. Right was there
all along
in the last place we would have looked.

I got married early, to a guy I thought I was in love
with. I
became pregnant almost immediately, and had a
beautiful baby girl.
For the first couple of years my marriage was
perfect, but
then my Basheer, my husband, lost his job. He began to
drink heavily,
and the bills went unpaid. He began to get angry and
sullen, and
started snarling and cursing me at the slightest
Then, one day, he hit me. It was only a slap, but
sent me
flying back against the wall. From then on every time
he was around
me I walked on eggshells, fearful and worried. Several
more times
he hit me. At first they were slaps, then he started
punching me.
I left him and took my daughter, Anita, home to
live with my
father. Abbajaan was happy to put us up. He still had
the big house me
and my five brothers and sisters had grown up in, and
since we'd
all left, and Mom had died, I guess he was a little
lonely there.
Abbajaan and I hadn't been especially close when
I was growing up.
He was always working, doing lots of overtime to
support us all,
and when he did have spare time I guess he mostly
spent it with my
Going from the constant menace and fear that I
had lived with
to my Abbajaan's house was an overwhelming relief.
Living with Basheer,
even though he hadn't actually hit me that much, had
reduced me to
a kind of fearful mouse, afraid of saying the
slightest thing that
would cause him to get angry.
Now I was home. Safe. I had the big old house to
be alone with
Ann, and I had my Abbajaan to look after me. I think
that I was so
timid and jittery from my time with Basheer that I
went out of my way
to be nice to my father, insisting on doing the dishes
housework, scurrying to meet his every need.
I felt so safe there, and so grateful to him,
that my love for
him just seemed to grow and grow, and I often hugged
him just from
sheer happiness. I even took to slipping onto his lap
now and then,
kind of reliving my girlhood days.
Only now I had Abbajaan all to myself, and he had
more time for
me. He didn't work overtime any more, and would come
home promptly
at five thirty. I greeted him at the door, kissing and
hugging him,
and having his dinner ready.
One day I was wearing a thin summer dress. It was
one of those
flowery things, with spaghetti straps over the
shoulders to hold
the top up. I had no bra under it, but my breasts were
firm and
round, and not really big, so I didn't really need
I hugged Abbajaan when he came home and he had
his dinner, then
I cleaned up the dishes. I was hot, and I was being
especially nice
to him because I wanted to suggest that he get an air
I was acting just the way I used to as a kid, I guess,
buttering up
the old man to get my way.
After I'd cleaned everything I went into the
bathroom and
checked my hair. I gave my blonde locks a few more
brushes, setting
the bangs just right so I looked sweet and cute, then
went out into
the living room.
"Abbajaan?" I asked.
"Yes, honey?"
I slid onto his lap and he brought his arm around
behind my
back as I rubbed my head against his shoulder a
"What now?" he asked, his voice sounding a little
"What do you mean?" I asked, all innocence.
"When you use that tone of voice and start acting
like a big
eyed puppy I know you want something," he snorted.
"But I love you," I pouted.
I shifted myself a little, putting an arm over
his shoulder,
and it was then I felt something hard against my ass.
I blinked in
surprise, for I knew he had a hard-on.
At first I was shocked, but then a whole bunch of
swirled around in my head. First, I felt an amazed
delight, that I
had managed to make him hard like that without even
trying. I guess
that was the lund-tease in me.
Then there was the understanding that since my
mom had died
five years ago he must've not had any sex. As for me,
I considered
sex almost irrelevant. I had been taught it was
something you
pretty much had to do for your man, and the best thing
you could do
was to relax and hope it didn't hurt too much.
Sex with Basheer had always been rough and fast.
He'd get on and
hump away for four or five minutes, then roll off with
a sigh and
go to sleep. I'd heard about orgasms, but never had
one on my own.
I was so naive I hadn't even masturbated.
Like I said, it wasn't that I thought sex was
dirty or
shocking or nasty...just...unimportant. Shrug.
But I loved Abbajaan so much then, that I was
delighted that he
was getting a hard-on. I hardly had to think for a
second to
realize that he would probably like to fuck me. Even
Basheer at his
drunkest had liked fucking me.
So I got a kind of wicked smile on my face as I
felt my
Abbajaan's hard-on pressing into my ass. I rubbed
myself deliberately
against him, and kind of turned a little, to press my
breasts right
into his chest and rub them there.
"Abbajaan, I was wondering," I cooed. "Why can't
we have air
"That again," he sighed, licking his lips.
"It don't cost that much," I whined.
"It's not necessary. We hardly ever get the heat
that bad."
"Maybe you think so," I sniffed. "The heat is
plenty bad
enough for me."
"It's a waste of money," he said.
"Pleeeease?" I kissed him on the cheek, then on
the neck, then
on the cheek again.
"Saloni," he said, his voice a little husky.
"Your kinda my man, aren't you Abbajaan?" I
asked, all wide eyed
"Well, the man is supposed to provide for his
"You're not my woman. You're my daughter."
"Right now I'm your woman," I said. "I cook for
you, and clean
the house, annnnnnd, I could do...other things for
I ran my hand over his broad chest, then kissed
him on the
lips. He drew back in surprise, swallowing nervously.
"Saloni," he said warningly.
"I'm not a little girl, Abbajaan," I said. "I'm a
grown woman."
"Well you ain't acting like it."
"Sure I am," I grinned. "That's why you're
getting all hot and
"What? I..."
I slid my hand down and squeezed his lund gently,
and heard
his breath inhale sharply.
"Saloni! Stop that! Get off!"
He tried to push me off but I held onto him. I
put my arms
around him and hugged him tight, clinging to him as he
tried to put
me off.
"Saloni, you do as I say!"
"Abbajaan," I said, raising my eyes to his and
looking at him
firmly. "I know what men need. You're a man, and I'm a
I gripped his wrist, pulling his hand from my arm
and placing
it against my left breast. At first he jerked it back,
but I leaned
forward against him, pushing my breast into his hand.
His lund
throbbed beneath me, and his eyes stared down at my
chest as his
hand shook against my tittie.
I reached behind my back and untied the spaghetti
string and
the front of the light dress fell down, exposing my
breasts. He
gasped and licked his lips, and I had to take his hand
again and
press it against my naked breast.
I was kind of feeling hot too, though I seldom
did with Basheer.
I guess it was the way I was sort of...seducing him,
y'know? He was
getting so excited at the sight and feel of me that it
was turning
me on too.
His hand started to close on my breast, and he
cupped it with
a light touch, sort of lifting an weighing it. My
nipple was hard
and felt hot and sensitive, and I licked my own lips
as his thumb
slipped over it, stroking it lightly.
"Go ahead, Abbajaan," I whispered. "I want you
He squeezed my breast, his breathing becoming
more ragged as
he became less and less restrained, and worked his
fingers into the
soft meat with more and more enthusiasm.
"Oh, baby," he gasped.
I laid back against his arm as he stroked and
squeezed and
kneaded my breasts. Then watched in satisfaction as he
bent and
began to lick, then suckle at my nipple. I felt
exultant that he
was so happy, so excited, and sighed in pleasure as
his tongue and
lips moved on my nipples.
There was even a kind of sexual excitement in me,
mostly from
having turned him on so high. But also from the
tingling in my
breasts as he worked on them. Basheer had never spent
that much time
on my breasts. Mostly he just squeezed them real hard,
in a way
that was more painful than pleasurable, and bit on
them a little.
Abbajaan was stroking and caressing them in a way
nobody ever
had, his fingers pinching the nipples lightly, rolling
them and
squeezing them. His tongue lapped over the hard pink
buds, and his
lips suckled as he drew them, one at a time, into his
They felt in his mouth, the way his
mouth sucked, the
way his tongue licked, and the odd little nibbling
with his teeth.
My breasts felt hot and swollen, and the nipples
throbbed with
excitement and electricity in a way they never had
I was surprised that he was spending so long, but
in no hurry
for him to stop. Nobody had ever spent so much effort
on my titties
before, and they were feeling so good as a result that
I was
amazed. I found my heart beating faster, my blood
flowing more
I also felt a kind of tingling heat between my
legs, down in
my lower belly, a moist, warm, heaviness that made me
feel really
Abbajaan finally gripped the hem of my dress and
slid it upwards,
and I shifted so he could pull it out from under my
behind. I
raised my hands as he slid the dress up and off, and
then sat back
in just my little string bikini panties as he resumed
stroking and
squeezing my breasts.
I felt just a bit embarrassed about him seeing me
like this,
but he was my Abbajaan, after all, so it didn't
matter. He'd seen me
naked lots of times when I was little.
His fingers slid into the string of my panties,
gripped it,
and tugged them slowly down. I felt a quivering
anxiety as my
softly furred choot was exposed to his eyes for the
first time. My
face flushed a little in embarrassment as he pulled my
panties down
and off.
Then I was utterly naked, and Abbajaan's hands
moved smoothly
over my body. I raised my head and he slid a hand
behind it, then
kissed me on the lips. He pulled back, but I moved
pressing my lips against him again, this time opening
my mouth.
I slid my tongue back and forth along his lips,
then dipped it
into his mouth to meet his own. I felt his other hand
sliding up
and down over my breasts, then moving down my belly
and in between
my legs. He cupped my khasta choot and squeezed, and I
gasped in pleasure,
feeling heat flood into me.
His fingers kneaded my khasta choot meat as our
tongues slid together
with growing passion. I was breathing harder and
heavier, and my
body was growing more excited. I ground myself on his
hand, gasping
and moaning in heat as pleasure rolled over my mind.
" Abbajaan!" I gasped. "Oooh! Oohhhh! Unhhhhh!"
I felt a finger pierce me, cleaving the folds of
my tight,
warm, slick khasta choot lips and sliding up into my
fuck hole. I gasped
again and humped against it, astonished at my own
shocked at the pleasure boiling through me.
I humped on his finger, then felt a second enter
"Yess! Yess! Ohhh! Abbajaan! Abbajaan! Ooohh!" I
"You like that, baby?" he gasped.
He thrust his fingers up to the knuckles inside
me and I
ground myself helplessly against them, then his thumb
pressed down
on my clit and he squeezed up with his fingers. He
caught my clitty
between them and rolled it rapidly back and forth.
The heat fire roared up like a bonfire with gas
thrown on it.
I cried out in shocked pleasure, arching my back and
spastically. My ass ground against his thighs and I
desperately as an orgasm, the first of my life, ripped
through my
I thrashed and shook as Abbajaan held me down
with one hand and
jerked me off with the other. I gasped and panted and
slamming my head back into the arm of the sofa again
and again as
my nervous system crackled and burned in orgiastic
Then I went limp, panting for breath, chest
heaving as I lay
there in languorous aftermath, astonished and dazed.
Abbajaan leaned
over and kissed my left breast, then pulled his
fingers out of me
and stood up, hefting me in his arms.
He walked upstairs to his bedroom, the master
bedroom, what
had been my parents' bedroom as long as I could
remember, a place
I wasn't permitted to enter.
He carried me through the door and set me down on
the bed,
then calmly undid the buttons of his shirt and removed
it. He undid
his pants and pushed the zipper down. I stared at it,
at the
zipper, laying there naked on his bed, and watched as
his pants
slid down.
He stepped out of them, and my eyes focused on
the bulging
erection in his boxer shorts. Then he jerked them down
and off, and
was naked, naked like me.
He was still powerfully built. I was a small
woman, having
taken after my mother, but Abbajaan was well over six
feet tall, and
very strong. His lund was thick and hard, bigger than
Basheer's had
been, not so much longer as...thicker.
It was hard and hairy and dark, and I couldn't
take my eyes
off it as he crawled into bed. He lifted my legs up
and apart, then
set them down on the bed. I raised my knees, my feet
flat on the
bed as Abbajaan knelt there between them, stroking his
hands over my
breasts and belly.
Then he slid forward over me, his body pressing
against mine,
sliding over my skin until were face to face, eye to
eye, groin to
groin. His weight was heavy on me, but familiar, from
Basheer. I could
feel his entire body with mine, his flesh against me,
his chest
pressing down my breasts.
He kissed me, and I slid my arms around him and
kissed him
back, filled with love and devotion. He stroked my
breasts, and ran
his hand up and down my body. I felt his lund, hard
and thick,
laying between our bellies.
He raised his hips and gripped his lund, then
pressed the head
against my choot crack. I felt it catch at the small
hole, then
press forward. My choot spread around it and it slid
down inside me.

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