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                 K R I S T E N' S    C O L L E C T I O N
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--------------------------------------------------------
This work is copyrighted to the author © 2010.  Please
don't remove the author information or make any changes
to this story.  All rights reserved. Thank you for your 
consideration.
--------------------------------------------------------

Sophie's Story
by Anon (super.soph86@hotmail.com)

***

The author describes this father daughter story "as 
sort" of an autobiography. (Mg, ped, inc? cyber)

***

Chapter 1

Things had changed forever. Several of my friends had 
suffered the pain of seeing their parents drift apart, 
separate and, ultimately, divorce. I remembered each of 
them coming to school morning after morning with an 
ever-increasing air of sadness about them.

I was too young to understand what it really meant. Your 
parents being there was something you took for granted. 
No matter what happened in those early stages of your 
life, they were the ever-present constant that it was 
always assumed would always remain.

My relationship with Dad was always, to say the least, 
more special than those enjoyed by my friends. So when, 
during a picnic in my favourite park, my parents told me 
that they just didn't love each other anymore, and that 
Dad was to move into a new house 25 miles away, it felt 
like the walls had caved in.

Whilst I knew that those exciting, special and naughty 
times Dad and I had shared were an expression of the 
most natural love I could imagine, I had never truly 
appreciated that they must have been to the neglect of 
his relationship with Mum.

Not that she knew, of course. He had gone to obsessive 
lengths to ensure that our secret remained just that. 
And even on those rare occasions that a risk was taken - 
our brief excursion upstairs during my paddling pool 
birthday party three years previously being the perfect 
example - the passion was mitigated by a subtle 
nervousness that only a man with everything to lose 
could understand.

Being 12 years old, and with my Mum working longer and 
longer hours, I knew that I was growing up. It wasn't 
just the peculiar sensation of my breasts beginning to 
grow, or noticing the embarrassment on a man's face as 
he realises I've caught him looking at me. My growing up 
was more to do with heartbreak. That dull ache that 
could only be caused by the absence of the man I loved, 
and the man who loved me in return.


Chapter 2

Being almost two months since Dad left, life had a sense 
of unfamiliar normality. This is how life was to be from 
now on. My twice-monthly weekends with Dad had become 
the permanent focal point in my life. As each day 
passed, I crossed off another milestone in my mental 
calendar. 6 days to go. 5 days to go. 4 days to go...

Today, Tuesday seemed to be especially slow. Midnight 
tonight was the next thing to look forward to, and as 9 
o'clock approached, I knew that I'd soon receive my 
orders to go to bed. As I marched upstairs to complete 
the nightly ritual of packing my school bag, brushing my 
teeth and hair, and changing into my nighty, those old 
butterflies returned. 

I set my alarm and removed the pink summer dress I'd 
received as a gift the previous month. As the shoulder 
straps fell to the side, I was able to slowly shimmy it 
down my body until it hit the floor. I looked in the 
mirror as I brushed my long brown hair, frustrated at 
the slight curls I would one day grow to love. For a 
girl my age I was a rarity. 

I had no problems with my body, it's shape or size. At 
4'11, and with a faint hint of breasts, a small waist 
but with a few soft curves around the hips, I knew I was 
lucky. Dad would regularly comment on the shape of my 
firm bum, holding it tight as he kissed my neck with 
long, sensual touches and a slow exhalation that made me 
weak with need.

As I climbed into bed with my thin 'Princess' nighty 
separating my body from the sheets, the idea of having 
to wait was almost physically painful. This was, after 
all, a room I had come to associate with Dad. That late 
night knock on the door, that wonderful smile as he 
tiptoed into the room, the exhilaration of the first 
kiss and the crushing, all-consuming passion of the act 
itself. I could still hear his voice. 

The hundred times he had whispered how much he loved me. 
The hundred times he told me how happy I made him. The 
hundred times he whispered, 'thank you sweetie' as I 
rose triumphantly from my knees in front of him.

This had been a happy room for so long. But these past 
few months it had been one of loneliness. When midnight 
comes, I thought, at least I won't be entirely alone.


Chapter 3

BEEEEEEEEEP. BEEEEEEEEEP. The alarm emitted a piercing 
screech that belied the fact that I'd deliberately 
turned the volume down almost fully three hours earlier.

I woke with a start, which was quickly followed by a 
rush of excitement and gratitude that sleep had saved me 
from a long wait. It was 11.58pm, and the house had 
fallen silent in preparation for Mum's early start.

I jumped over to my desk which had been bought the 
previous month to assist with the constant flow of 
homework. We were fortunate to live in a large house, 
and my room sat at least 25 metres from Mum's. 

It was a distance that helpfully dispersed any late 
night noise that may have been emitted from my bed over 
the years. But as ever, there would be no risks, and as 
I switched on my computer I conscientiously ensured the 
speakers were turned right down.

I signed into MSN Messenger, thinking how imperfect this 
was. This wasn't how it was meant to be. But until 
Friday evening at least, this was the best I could hope 
for.

My name popped up as the sign-in completed. "Sophie - 
bored. xx". I eagerly scrolled down my list of friends. 
Amanda - offline. Amy - offline. Anna - offline. Barrie 
- online.

"Hello!"

My heart skipped a beat as the conversation started. I 
felt a rush of energy surge through my body. I wasn't 
allowed a mobile phone, and any regular phone 
conversation I had with him would be heavily policed by 
my mother making a pathetic attempt to seem 
inconspicuous.

"Daddy! xxxxxxxx mwah xxxxxxxxxx!"

Our online midnight meetings had become something of a 
regular event. It eased the pain of the two week 
intervals between our meetings.

"I've missed you pumpkin."

"I've missed you! Can't wait for Friday night mmmmmm 
hehe xxxx!"

"LOL! Me too! Are you ready?"

My laptop had always had a webcam attached to it, but 
had only been used in recent weeks. Dad was hardly known 
for his hi-tech skills, but he had quickly learned to 
master his small camera, and sure enough the message 
popped up.

"Barrie wants to start a webcam conversation"

I clicked to accept and in a second he was there. His 
short greying brown hair, his deep penetrating eyes, his 
wide smile that showed off dimples deep enough to make 
any girl flirt. I don't know how handsome he is to other 
girls. I just knew he was my Dad, and he was all that 
mattered.

"Oh my princess. You look beautiful tonight."

"Thank you!"

Even after just having woken, when I can't have been at 
my prettiest, he still made me feel special. Like he 
loved me as much as I did him. He leaned down to the 
keyboard.

"I've been thinking about you all day Soph."

"Naughty things?" :) she giggled.

"Yes! About the first time I made you cum. Do you 
remember?"

Of course I did. It had been four years since our visit 
to my Grandparent's farmhouse provided the setting for 
my first orgasm. At the age of 8, it had been some 
considerable time since I lost my virginity, but Dad was 
simply too big, and perhaps I was simply too small, for 
me to benefit from the same passionate ecstasy that he 
did. Instead, the first time I understood the majestic 
power of sex was sat on his lap, hidden deep in the 
sprawling green fields of England. 

I looked deep into his eyes as his large, rough fingers 
penetrated me. His index finger softly pushing far 
inside my pussy, his middle finger locked inside an ass 
that had become used to accommodating a much larger, 
more powerful part of Dad's anatomy. As he nibbled on my 
earlobes he could hear my whimpers turn into giggles, 
then moans.

"It was the first time I knew I could make you happy 
forever," he typed, sensing that 'forever' was the word 
I longed for most.

His typing became more sporadic as he gazed through the 
lens of his camera. He was well used to seeing me in my 
nighty, but it was only on occasion that I would leave 
it on.

"Take it off for me sweetie."

I smiled as I pulled it over my head, revealing the soft 
skin that he would lick, caress and touch. I knew what 
was coming next. It was a phrase I'd come to love and 
expect whenever he saw my naked.

"My sexy little princess."

For him, those words seemed to sum me up, and they 
filled me with delight every time I heard them.

"You never had need for those when I was around," he 
said, referring to my white cotton panties that I often 
wore to bed. It was meant to be flirty and sexy I knew, 
but it just reminded me that he wasn't here anymore. He 
was missing from my life, my bed. 

"I wish you were here."

"Me too Princess."

"I mean it. I miss you." :)

"I know sweetie. What do you miss most?"

She giggled, "Having you fuck me!" :)

He was clearly taken aback. But the satisfied smile on 
his face said it all. He was stroking himself as we 
spoke, and I knew how much he enjoyed watching my 
explore my own body. The conversation went silent as we 
enjoyed the temporary closeness the camera gave us, a 
reminder of what we were missing, but a teaser for the 
kind of weekend I knew was now just days away. 

I slid my panties down my thighs and kicked them off, 
opening my legs as he had trained me to do all those 
years ago. My fingers slowly circling over my clit 
making me inhale sharply and suddenly. My soft hands 
gave a different sensation to Dad's thicker, rougher 
fingers, but if the past 2 months had done anything for 
me it was to give me a good imagination. His cock was 
now in plain view, hard, thick, heavenly. 

The memories rushed back so vividly. All those nights in 
my bed with his strong, sweaty body hanging over me, my 
hands over his shoulders pulling him closer. The times 
we made love and the times we fucked were clear in my 
mind as my fingers, self-manicured earlier that day with 
friends in the playground, slid inside me. The days of 
needing lubricant to aid penetration had long gone, 
replaced by the thick layer of juice which flowed now so 
easily. 

The look on my Dad's face as he stroked his long shaft 
with increasing ferocity, sharing my dream of him being 
here, stretching me, filling me, fucking me, was 
instantly recognisable. He was going to cum, and in just 
a few seconds his head tilted back in a way I was well 
used to, reams of thick cum spurted from his dick in an 
eruption of lust. The sight of his cream, which for so 
many years had been solely given to me, gave me all I 
needed. 

My gentle sighing turned to moaning as the pleasurable 
tingling from my pussy magnified, growing and growing, 
each muscle tensing with pleasure before spasming into a 
bliss that only he could give me. "Oh Daddy" I 
whispered, in a way uttered so many times in this room 
before, as the orgasm made my toes curl and push back 
into the chair. The thrashing and thrusting subsided 
into a gentle after-flow of semi-satisfaction.  

No self-supplied orgasm could ever reach the heights he 
had taken me to, but for those few seconds we were 
together again. For those few seconds, it wasn't my 
finger giving me what I needed, it was his cock. And for 
those few seconds, it wasn't his keyboard that was 
overflowing with cum, but the deepest reaches of my 
pussy. 

"Baby that was wonderful. Did you cum?"

"YES! hehe! Of course I did!"
"
I know baby, I know. Wow!"

"I love you Daddy."

"I love you princess."

We chatted as I slowly redressed. School was fine, so 
was the dog, and so was everything else. Everything was 
fine. Except that he wasn't here. It was now Wednesday. 
And the day after tomorrow I knew the wait would finally 
be over.

To be continued?

*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*
The author does not condone child abuse, this story is 
meant as an erotic fantasy not depicting anything in 
real life. Anyone acting out such scenarios in "real 
life" can look forward to many unproductive years 
getting it up the butt by a fellow convict in their 
local prison system.
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Kristen's collection - Directory 68