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Crazy Miracles
by Caduceus (no address provided)
***
After a veteran firefighter gets into a motorcycle
accident, a medical emergency causes him to become
closer to his 20 year old daughter than he ever wanted
to. The mental and physical turmoil of it breaks him
down to a point of being able to analyze himself in a
new light. (MF, inc, reluc, mast, oral)
***
I don't really know where to start.
I guess I'll say that miracles happen. They are
unplanned, unexpected and sometimes downright crazy.
On my phone I have a picture of a beautiful 20 year old
girl in fancy underwear. The picture is special to me.
More so every day. I should probably delete it but I
just can't.
I am a 44 year old, happily married man. You might be
thinking that it is not that unusual for a middle aged
guy to have pictures of young women. This one is. I took
the picture myself and she is smiling right at me. The
demented part is that the girl is closely related to me.
My daughter Kelsea is 20. Thanks to a motorcycle crash
and Percocet I was able to take a picture of her in her
sexy underwear. That's just the tip of the iceberg.
First let me set up the scene.
I am 44 and I have been a Kansas City firefighter
paramedic for 22 years. And I was an amateur boxer for
most of that time. And thanks to my wonderful wife, who
let me be the head of the household, and our strong
family values (without being religious) we had a pretty
happy home with three respectful kids who turned out
great. Not really a single black sheep.
I'll paint myself now as kind of a hard-ass,
authoritarian dad with an affectionate side and a
fantastic sense of humor. Far from being an outlaw biker
of any kind I was more the Texas-marshal type. I got my
values from my formidable father on our farm but I was
the kinder, gentler version. At least I liked to think
so. So my kids respected me, obeyed, and had reverence
for the fire fighter/macho hero thing. And we had real
love in our family.
My middle child, the only girl, was always beautiful.
She strayed the farthest from the nest to attend college
at Arizona State nursing school. I was pretty nervous
about her leaving home because I know what guys are
like. And my Kelsea has a tight, hot little body, blue
eyes and unfortunately one of the sexiest, feminine,
delicate, fuck-me voices I had ever heard. And with her
expensive blonde highlights she really is stunning—and
painfully inviting to the attention of lustful minds.
I know she is sewing her oats by partying and drinking
underage out there in the painted desert. I am pretty
sure that's why she went away for school with some of
her friends—just barely safely out of driving distance
from home. But she is a good girl down to the core. I
tried, heartbreaking so, to grin and bear it that my
baby girl is out there like an inviting little lamb in a
wolf den.
I always tried to push thoughts of any guys getting
their rocks of on my little girl out of my mind because
I just could not take it. The anger, rage, the sinking
feeling in my stomach well up. I kept it to myself
mostly but it used to really sicken me. I literally saw
red. I am kind of cured of that now.
One little motorcycle crash this summer and I suddenly
became more popular than the queen of England. What
happened was an old lady with a driver's license that
expired a decade ago blew through a stop sign and
flipped my Harley softail--with me on it. I broke my
tibia, fibula, 2 ribs, a couple bones on my right hand,
my nose, and cracked my skull a little.
I was on my way home from work after we had an actual
structure fire at ruddy apartment building. The news
made a huge deal of it since they had been on the scene
of the fire where we rescue 6 little black kids from the
top floor where a drugged out heroin addict was running
a day care. There is one shot of me carrying a black
baby down the ladder. That kind of shit is what people
think we do all the time but it really only happens once
in a blue moon.
The job is mostly stupid people calling ambulances for
rides to the hospital for minor reasons. More than half
of it is watching TV. with the boys, and bullshitting.
On an average 24 hour shift we can get anywhere from 4
to 10 hours sleep sometimes. We love getting actual
fires like that though.
So it was quite a coincidence that I had one of my most
"heroic" shifts right before leaving my blood all over
the hot pavement.
When I woke up groggy the next day after being
unconscious overnight in the ICU there were about 30
people in the waiting room. Family members, some guys on
my crew and other firefighters. There were also a couple
news teams. I guess I became a big local story that
people followed for a few days. My 15 minutes of fame.
With the opiate pain medicine flowing through my IV I
was high as kite and feeling the love of the universe
when they first interviewed me.
I sent my hopes and prayers out to the family of the
lady that hit me saying I didn't want to press charges.
I had no hard feelings at all. It was just an accident.
I was "fine, and strong as ever" and would" be back to
work soon". They took that sound bite and did a 90
second segment on how strong I was—they showed old
boxing promo photos, the picture from the firefighter
calendar we did a few years ago for as much a farce as a
fundraiser.
It was just a cliché hunk fireman thing for the
desperate housewives that watch TV all day long. "Hero
hunk with a heart of gold" was their catch line. They
really made me look good though. My family DVR'd all
this shit and eventually made a DVD out of it. The press
really hammed up my 'heart of gold' thing for the
evening news. Heart of morphine would have been more
accurate.
All this celebrity stuff made my hospital stay a busy
one. They came out of the woodwork like flies to shit.
Firefighters I never met from different stations showed
up to give me their support. Some brought their
families.
One fateful day four two women got back to my room by
saying they were my cousins. But they were really just
two 30-something chicks who had been following me on TV
and thought I was the sexiest man they had ever seen.
One of them was chubby but the other was a hot brunette
who wanted me to sign her ample tits.
I was flattered and amused. I humored them until my wife
came back from the cafeteria. The hot one still had her
breasts exposed and was sitting on my bed stroking my
hair. My wife was already stressed out but that sent her
over the edge. She threw a fit in the hospital and after
that she cut my guest list to only family and close
friends.
The hospital was mostly just a circus anyway. Except for
the titanium rod in my tibia in the first hour I don't
think they really did anything else. It was pretty
blurry for a couple days but really I was just dinged
up. No serious injuries. I was out of the hospital after
6 days.
Kelsea was home. I didn't notice in my stupor and the
commotion but I guess she was absent at first and drove
all the way back on day 3 of my incarceration. She felt
guilty because she had turned her phone off for 2 days
of final exams. So my wife, who kind of became a basket
case through all this, couldn't get a hold of her.
I told her I was incredibly proud of her for having the
discipline to focus so much in this day and age of
constant text messaging and shit. A lot of that peace
and love shit that was coming out of me in the hospital
isn't quite in line with my personality. But the real me
is genuinely impressed for the turning off the phone
thing.
I had nothing remotely sexual in mind when I heard that
she had taken off two weeks from her clinical rotations
to help out at home and be my nurse. But now I can't
look back on it without feeling a surge of lust welling
up in my groin. How quickly our worldview can change
under the right circumstances.
Upon discharge they explained that I needed to take the
Percocet for my lungs. My lungs? With the broken ribs
the pain might stop me from breathing enough and I could
get pneumonia. Because I was a tough guy who had always
had a standard Midwestern fireman's acceptance of beer,
but disdain for illegal drugs and what retards they turn
people into, I had no intention of taking it once they
weren't injecting the drugs into me on a regular
schedule.
I was doing alright with the ibuprofen that first
evening. We had a nice family dinner with all 3 kids
back in the house and my eldest son's wife and 3 month
old daughter, our first grandchild.
In the middle of the night I woke up sweating and
feeling like I couldn't breathe. Whenever I coughed the
worst pain I had ever felt shot from my broken ribs and
I vomited because it hurt so badly. I was also worried
because they warned me the broken ribs were right over
my liver and I had to protect that side from trauma.
There was a chance the sharp rib could cut the liver and
cause me to bleed internally.
My wife was crazy agitated and wanted to call 911. That
was the last thing I wanted since I know the guys
working at our station so I begged her not to. I thought
of the discharge instructions and the pills. Kelsea was
up now too because of my wife's dramatic flair. They
ended up digging through the kitchen garbage together to
get me the bottle of pills I had thrown away when I got
home.
I took one of the white pills while my ladies stayed up
worrying about me and I tried to reassure them I was
fine even though I was scared myself. Soon though the
pill did kick in and I could breathe easier and the
euphoria took away all my worry. Maybe that doctor
actually knew what she was talking about. We all got a
couple more hours sleep before I convinced my wife that
she should absolutely go back to work that morning.
That was day 2 home from the hospital that my wife
returned to teach at the elementary school. There were
only 2 weeks left of school and she had designed her own
curriculum for her 5th and 6th grade class for the first
time that year so she was already upset that a
substitute had been screwing up her design for a week
down the home stretch. Some of her kids would be off to
junior high soon and she worried about not finishing her
lesson plans to prepare them. That was the main reason
Kelsea was staying home. So it was our first day alone.
I woke up around 9 and when I went to pee the pain was
coming back pretty strong. It was mostly just the rib
pain. The fingers, and nose, and repaired tibia weren't
that bad. I took another Percocet and got back in bed.
The pain subsided but I started to have nausea welling
up. I turned on the TV to take my mind off it but it was
just blue screen that said 'searching for satellite'. A
few minutes later Kelsea popped in the bedroom to check
on me. She saw that I was kind of sweaty and a bit
green.
"What's wrong, dad?" She asked looking concerned. "Do
you need another pill?" She went to the bottle on my
night stand and opened it.
"No baby I took one. The pain is o.k. now I just have
nausea. I think it might be from the pills. I got the
same thing in the hospital a couple times from morphine.
I just need this damn TV to work to pull my mind away."
I said. Even though I was worried that I might throw up
I was smiling and even giggling as I fumbled with the
remote, getting the same blue screen on every channel.
"You're stoned, dad! Oh my god. I never thought I would
see this." She was very amused. Her straight-edge dad
who condemned pot and any illegal drug her whole life
was high on drugs. "Didn't they give you anything for
nausea? Did you throw that away too?" She sat down on
the side of the bed and put her hand on the forearm of
by casted hand.
"No. I'm not high on drugs. It's just a side effect of
the medicine, like this wave of nausea. And I never told
anybody about it, I just dealt with it myself in the
hospital. I just have Percocet, ibuprofen, and stool
softener." My euphoria fed off of the smirk on her face
and I laughed, which was a big mistake. I felt the rib
pain again and it stopped my laughter dead in its
tracks.
"What do you mean you dealt with it yourself?" She
pried.
"I can't tell you that baby. You're too young." I said.
"I just can't puke again. It really fucks up my ribs." I
said as I kept pushing the channel up button and staring
at the blue screen. I was indeed stoned as hell.
"Now you have to tell me. I'm a nurse. Fucking come on."
She was never allowed to curse in the house. But my
goofy state of mind wasn't really bothered by anything
except the idea of the pain and damage I would cause if
I vomited.
"I would watch the scenes in Desperado where Selma Hayek
was really hot." I said looking right at her. My sons
had set up a DVD player in my hospital room and brought
a few of my favorite westerns. One of them was
Desperado. "I would touch myself with my left hand it
made me forget about my nausea."
At first she had a surprised and serious look on her
face as she sat on the edge of my bed. I guess it took
her a few seconds to process the information. The she
smiled ear to ear.
"America's sexiest fireman has the hots for Selma Hyek?"
She taunted me.
"I'm sure it's a very common thing." I replied smiling
and grimacing as I headed the laughter off mentally
before it formed. I got a real hot flash over my whole
body and sweat beaded up on my skin. The nausea was
coming to a head. Kelsea noticed my sudden distress.
"Just breathe dad. It's O.K. What can we do? Think of
Selma Hyek." She said. No longer smiling.
"No... I needed to see her. Maybe if you stripped down
to your underwear and turned around so I didn't see it
was you." I blurted out without even having thought it
first. I was completely unfiltered and unashamed in my
distress and euphoric stupor.
"What?" She replied. Looking a little stunned and
confused, even angry.
I got a slight handle on the head rush and let a few
breaths into my lungs. "I'm sorry. I'm sorry baby. That
just came out without me thinking. Don't worry," I
panted. "Will you just get me the garbage can from the
bathroom." That big wave was subsiding and I was feeling
a cool rush from my sweat cooling but I was pretty sure
vomiting was inevitable.
Kelsea got up from the bed and let go of my arm. I
assumed it was to get the bin out of the bathroom. But
she only took one step away from the bed and quickly
pulled her green T-shirt off over her head and tossed it
on the floor. Still facing away from me, and just as
fast and effortlessly she unbuttoned her jean shorts and
let them fall down her legs to the carpet and stepped
out of them.
I think I had my mouth open as I took in the site in
front of me. She had some low cut but high riding black
lacy underwear on. The kind you buy to completely revive
a strained relationship. They went like strap across the
middle of her but accenting both the top and bottom of
the beautiful buns. They made the contour of her
perfect, round, cellulite free ass look like a message
from God.
I followed the smooth curve down to her gap, and her
sexy tanned, shapely legs and lovely feet. Then back up
to her petite waist that made her butt cheeks seem that
much more three dimensional. She had a matching bra and
flawless slender back. Then she moved.
She took another step toward the wall and put her hand
on her waist. She moved her ass to the right, then the
left slowly. She put her hands gently up to ass. Each
delicate hand slightly off to the side of each cheek.
She bent slightly at the waist and arched her back. She
bent further to 90 degrees and put one hand against the
wall. Then she stood back up straight. She took a step
backward toward me. Then another. The ass was only a few
feet from my face. The gap that showed the way to the
pussy was right there. I saw the intricate texture of
the panties. She spanked herself gently once, then
harder.
Now mind you I was fucking mesmerized. I was not
thinking that this was my daughter. I was not thinking
she was doing this out of love for me to distract me
from being sick. I didn't wonder what was going through
her mind or what expression she had on her face. The
oxycodone in the Percocet dulled all that unpleasant
awareness.
I just got lost in the sight and texture of what all men
ultimately crave more than anything else. It's
genetically programmed into our hardwiring and although
we can deny superstition, religion, or aspects of
science and physics only an imbecile would argue against
every heterosexual man's involuntary attraction to a
perfect, 20 year old body. It had only been about 15
seconds but the nausea was long gone. My left hand went
down to the waist band of my hospital pants and tugged
forward to free the restriction of bunched up cloth that
was holding down my growing erection.
She reached her hands up to her neck and stoked all of
her silky, mid-upper back length hair forward, covering
her face. Then she walked. With slow and deliberate
steps she strutted forward, around the corner of the bed
and turned toward me. Her face was hidden but the
outline of her young feminine body was striking. Then I
looked at the details. The way her little black bra
hugged her firm, beautiful, perfect little tits. She had
a strict tan line that went across like she had been
wearing a narrow sports bra in the sun for hours. Then
it caught my eye.
In the middle of her sexy petite, tanned tummy she had a
shiny, silver belly button piecing. It was an ornamented
rod that ran vertically through a darker central silver
piece. I didn't know she had that. Maybe I never would
have. The silky smooth abdomen led down to her pelvis
and the slightest tan line above the skinny band of lace
that ran across the front and passed for panties these
days. It covered very little except for her pussy
itself.
She had no visible hair anywhere down there.
She made her way slowly back around the bed to me. She
leaned across and took my left hand and put it on her
belly button ring thing. I felt the soft skin on my
fingers. Then she spoke.
"Is it working?" She asked me. My Kelsea's voice
shattered the illusion.
The show was over. My mouth closed as my mind expanded
back open to take in other aspects of the universe than
lust and beauty. This was my daughter. Wow. I was still
stoned, numb, and disinherited. I did however notice the
pressure in my groin now. It was in my testicles. It
ached badly. I was having this problem less extremely
the last couple nights when I thought about sex.
"My nausea is completely gone." I answered as I gently
took my hand back from her. She turned and squatted down
quickly and picked up her shirt from the floor.
"Wait. Please. You are so amazing." I told her. "Let me
just get one picture. Please." I reached over and
grabbed my phone from the nightstand with my good hand.
I could tell she felt very awkward so I added. "Just
please, Kelsea. I have truly never seen anything so
beautiful in my life. Let me get one picture for
myself."
"Da-aaaad." She said smiling and rolling her eyes but
she dropped the shirt and ran her hands back through her
hair to put it in the back.
She leaned one arm on the lamp of the nightstand and the
other on her hip and smile perfectly as the flash lit
her up. That is my special picture.
"I can't believe that worked like that. You are not
right in the head, dad." She said as her body language
became self-conscious again. And she sheepishly gathered
her clothing. "We have to get your doctor to call you in
an antiemetic in case that happens again when we aren't
the only ones home."
The notion that a repeat performance was possible
overshadowed everything she said. The idea caused a wave
of contraction through my erection that was already
uncomfortable itself being constricted in my pants but
the testicle ache was throbbing something fierce. I was
getting weary of the one emergency after another.
"Shit. Fuck. Ouch. Ouch!" I exclaimed. She had her shirt
back on and was just buttoning her shorts.
"I have a mechanical problem." I grunted. Needing to do
something to alleviate any part of it I pulled the sheet
that was covering my lower body aside and hurriedly
undid the bow of my pajama pants waistband and half of
my dick pushed out into the fresh air.
"Jesus Christ, Dad!" She said as she took a step back.
"Look away. I'm sorry." I said still feeling the
throbbing.
"I've been doing clinicals for 5 months at the hospital
and a nursing assistant for 2 years. I've seen every
part of the body more times that I ever wanted to. This
is just getting really weird."
"I'm sorry baby. It's not just that," I tried to explain
as I panted and grimaced. "I haven't well... cum...
since before the wreck. My left hand can't do what the
right hand could do. You know, watching the sex scenes
in the hospital, signing a girls tits another one's ass,
and now the most beautiful female body I have ever seen.
It's just fucking building up in my balls and it's
excruciating now.
"I think something is going to break or something. I
don't know what to do. Shit. Will you just get me some
ice out of the freezer and put it in a plastic bag?" My
eyes were tearing up. "I might need to go back to the
hospital, baby." It felt like an emergency.
She looked worried. She put one knee on the bed next to
me and worked my pants down below my scrotum.
"I can't see anything that looks abnormal, dad." She
reached down and gently touched my scrotum.
"O.K., baby. That's the opposite of helping I think.
Will you just get the ice and start the car now." I
spoke somewhat desperately. (Looking back on the
situation now I realize how comical the whole thing is.
Poor Kelsea. But it took some time to see things that
way.) She seemed distressed—she was alternating between
a frown and a determined look. She took a few steps
toward the bedroom door then stopped for a second,
swiveled around, and came back to the bed.
"Dad! Listen to me. Close your eyes and keep them
closed." She got on the bed and climbed over me to my
wife's side and knelt down on my left side. I was still
propped up on three pillows from trying to watch TV and
had a perfect view of her. "Close your goddamn eyes!"
She saw that I hadn't closed them at all yet. I was
scared. This time I obeyed. "Think of only Selma Hayek
now. Selma Hayek. And keep them closed until I tell you
you can open them." She sounded so angry and
authoritative.
Then I felt it. A warm, blissful sensation on my cock.
It was her hands and mouth at the same time. It stunned
me and I opened my eyes. I saw the profile of her
beautiful face with a wide open mouth and my cock
disappearing into it. I looked to the left and a saw her
beautiful bent over, kneeling butt in those jean shorts
and lean legs. The butt wiggled as she worked up and
down. Then my gaze went back to her mouth. There was
still the pain in the scrotum but my body knew this was
vital. Even if I had wanted to stop her my arms would
have been overridden. The balls still throbbed but the
sensation was building. I can't say for sure it was
pleasure with all the aching, although it had
characteristics of pleasure. It was more of an
unstoppable will that built up in my dick. My left hand
moved to the back of her head.
"Whatever you do don't stop," came out of my mouth. She
looked up at me. She saw my open eyes looking right back
at her. She made a frown, shook her head, and looked
back down. But she didn't stop. I knew she was trying to
tell me to close my eyes so I didn't know it was her,
Kelsea, my special girl. My lady bug. Right then
everything came together and was perfect about the
world. Everything in the universe led up to this. Her
childhood actually flashed before my eyes.
I was aware she didn't want me see her and love her like
this. But I couldn't look away at that point anymore
than I could have let her stop. I had the slight tinge
of fear that she might stop her work after that
disapproving look but I remember thinking, with one hand
firmly on her head, that if she tried to stop I would
squeeze my broken 2 fingers through the cast,
pulverizing it so I could grab her head with both hands
an one way or another keep fucking her mouth. But I
didn't have to.
As the big surge took over I did close my eyes. It was
too intense to bear. I do not exaggerate when I say I
exploded. She was a trooper as she tried to keep her
mouth on it at first and keep sucking, but the tidal
wave was just too much. It was like a brave little
princess standing on the beach in the wake of a 50 foot
tsunami. She had no idea how powerful a force was about
to hit her.
She was choking and gagging with her head withdrawn as
her hands kept massaging up and down. When my eyes
opened again that was the first thing I saw. My Kelsea
was coughing as my cum dripped copiously from her mouth
a few inches above my dick and a thick strand of it
bridged between her bottom lip and the head my penis. As
her hands kept working faithfully it shot up onto her
face it a couple of spurts, even in her eye before she
angled her head away and it kept gushing out into the
air and down the back of her hand.
As she let go and sat up I noticed there was even a
small stream running down from one of her nostrils. She
lifted her shirt up and wiped off her face but still
couldn't open the eye. She rushed over to the bathroom
coughing and splashed the sink water over her face. She
gargled with it. She drank some. She blew her nose. When
she came back out and made for the door to leave my
bedroom I stopped her. I felt like I had to do
something. I just didn't know what.
"Kelsea, come over here." I said it surprisingly sternly
and she immediately changed course. I motioned for her
to get in bed beside me and she did. I saw her wipe
tears away as she was adjusting herself to lay sideways
against me on my good arm. I hugged it around her thin
body. "Don't cry, baby." I said.
"I'm not really crying. I was just choking from..." She
didn't finish. I was still high as a kite and remember
feeling intense love but not a shred of remorse.
"Do you know how much I love you?" I asked. She didn't
answer.
"I don't think you can," I answered for her. My love for
you overwhelms me. You have always been a miracle to me.
I am so proud of everything you have ever done. Even
your defiance in your early teen years. Even the time
you crashed the car into the garage. It all has made you
who you are and I wouldn't want to change a single
thing."
"I love you too, dad, but you're saying that because
you're high and I just blew you."
"No I'm not, Kelsea Anabelle Bishop. I am certain that I
would say the same thing when the Percocet wears off."
"So you're totally honest right now?" she asked.
"Yep."
"Why didn't mom help you with the blue balls thing?" She
asked.
"Your mom kind of took this whole thing harder than
anyone else. And I love her dearly but since I have been
so happy-go-lucky in the hospital she has kind of
responded by being more bitchy. Probably because it just
scares her that I am so different on the pain drugs. And
since the signing the girls' private parts thing in the
hospital I was afraid to even mention sex to her. Do you
know about that?" I realized I hadn't told her.
"Oh, yeah. Mom bitched to me about for a while that
night. It didn't help that I laughed about it." She
said. "Mom imitates the girl in a weird squeaky voice,
'I'm so sorry to intrude, Mrs. Bishop. I just think your
husband is the sexiest man alive and I like had to like
meet him. You are soooo lucky.'"
"Yeah, I probably should've handled that differently." I
conceded, smiling at her impersonation.
"I smoke pot," she blurted out. "Almost every day. I
like it and I don't feel bad about it except that I know
you hate it." She was sounding defensive. I was mellow
yellow in my high so it was probably the best time to
bring it up. I didn't like it but I was really in love
with her then. I realize some of it was still lust too.
"Honey, you are a grown woman. You get good grades and
you work hard to pay your own bills. If you don't do
everything the same way I do it's O.K. I love you no
matter what. I just don't want you to get in trouble." I
said.
"Really? Fuck. Wow. I 'm so glad to get that out. I'm so
glad you're O.K with it." She said, still sounding a
little nervous. "That was more cum than all the cum I
have ever seen in my life total." She changed the
subject.
I thought to myself 'I don't want to hear about how much
cum you've seen, baby.' But I didn't say that or
anything like it.
"I really don't know what I would have done if you
hadn't been here. I would probably have a rib poking
through my liver after vomiting all over the place. I
would have bled out internally in this bed because I'm
too stubborn and proud to call an ambulance. I'm
serious. They warned me it could happen. You might have
really saved my life." I told her honestly.
"You mean with my mouth to mouth. Or mouth to...
whatever." We were finally getting to the issue through
humor. That was the elephant in the room. I have stood
staunchly for sound moral values my whole life. Before
this the notion that I would ever call my daughter
anything beyond beautiful—in a father is proud of his
beautiful little girl kind of way—or that I would ever
express anything resembling lust was unthinkable. Even
my KCFD brothers in arms in my squad knew better than to
make any ungentlemanly comments about my daughter or
they would feel my wrath.
"About that... You were perfect today. I was as helpless
as a little fucking baby. You knew better than me. You
acted under pressure to treat an emergency medical
condition in someone you loved. You did the right thing
at exactly the right time. Fucked up situations that you
never expect call for fucked up measures, I reckon."
I was consciously swearing in a conversation to her and
didn't feel bad about it.
"And it was more than that. Even through all the pain
and fear the whole thing was one of the most spiritual
experiences of my life. You know I don't care much for
believing in ghosts and fairy tales about creation but
to me your beauty in my time of need surpassed
everything else right up to it. I am in awe of you on so
many levels, Kelsea."
"You have a really great cock." She uttered quickly.
There was silence while I processed it. Probably very
awkward for her but not much was awkward to me on that
cloud I was floating in.
"We'll keep it between you and me and the walls but that
is probably my favorite complement I have ever gotten,"
I responded.
"I think your pill is peaking," she said.
"No, I mean what I say." I assured her.
"No I mean it too. It's like a hour or so from the
second Percocet you have ever taken in your life. Do you
feel better than you have ever felt?" She had a point. I
still had perceptible ache in my balls but it was miles
better than the agony I had been in, and I was aware of
my ribs tingling, but I did feel pretty close to the
best I could imagine
"Well you might be right, but I mean what I say and I
love you." I wanted to prove it somehow. So I tried to
show I had nothing to hide. "You smell like cum, baby.
You should probably take that shirt off." Everything I
said during this sounded like the right thing to say at
the time because I was completely high on damn drugs.
Now it seems all fucking wrong. But she propped herself
up and took off the shirt that was caked in semen and
wet from the sink water off over her head and tossed it
and came back into my arm and cuddled up even closer.
"I like you like this, Rick." She said. Using my name
instead of calling me dad like was normal in my family.
My 22 year old son still addressed me as dad and always
would. But I was high. I let it glide over.
"I like you like this too, Kelsea," I reciprocated.
"I have to go to my room in a minute. I have a bit of
the blue balls too. I haven't had sex for six days and
didn't even get a chance to masturbate yet. I got so
worked up going down on you and being close to you like
this that I'm really wet." Her words were not shocking
to me then.
"There must be something I can do to help you." WRONG
thing for a father to say!! But I said it and it seemed
perfectly reasonable at the time. If only I had let it
stop then it could have at least been half way justified
as medical necessity.
"Are you serious?" She asked after a protracted pause.
"Yep."
"Well... I guess you could finger me with your left hand
if I turn away from you while I rub myself. Are you
sure? No. I'm not so sure. I'll just go to my room."
"No." I stopped her although she hadn't actually moved a
muscle. "I love you beyond all the silliness. It's the
least I can do."
So she slipped off her panties and was now naked except
for her bra. She turned away from me on her side and I
reached between her but cheeks and arched my hand
backwards. She rubbed her clit as I worked my fingers in
and out. After a few minutes of this I saw how we could
do this better.
"Do a 180 and put your leg up on my chest. I can get a
better angle." She did and it worked. I could get my
fingers much deeper inside and rub her with more skill
and control. She was breathing pretty hard now. My cock
which had never even gone all the way flaccid, probably
due to her continued presence, was up to about three
quarters of its full potential. So after a few minutes
of her getting seemingly close but no cigar I had
another brilliant idea.
"Hey Kelsea. I have the perfect tool for this. Come back
up beside me." As she spun her little ass around and got
back up to me she realized what I had in mind.
"No. Dad? We can't do that. What the fuck? I'm fine.
Never mind." She was the voice of reason. But I was not
in my right mind at the time. She was on my arm, facing
away and I tuned on to my side as I held her tightly
against me. My baby girl struggled to get away I would
not let her. My god when I think back on it. What a
monster I was.
"Kelsea. Listen to me. We're almost there. We are just
going to get you a fraction of the pleasure you gave me.
Don't worry about the invisible walls and rules." I
actually said that. "Just use my love for you and the
part of my body that was made for this job that's right
between your legs now. It's right there for you and it
will work best. You know it. Don't make a big deal of
it." I had it right there pushing up against her the
bottom of her butt but I couldn't maneuver it in with
neither hand available. She squirmed to get away again
and squeezed her punishingly tight.
"Kelsea, just put it in." I said sternly. Something no
father should ever, ever order his own daughter to do in
that context.
She reached down between her legs with my right hand and
quickly introduced between her lips. It pushed in. I
didn't get waves of pleasure like I usually do when I
first push inside my wife's pussy. I really was focused
on the task in my maniacal obsession to finish 'the
job'. And I was pretty numb from the pain meds. But she
was tight and wet and as I got deeper in the pleasure
seeped through.
The pain flared through it all from my ribs with every
thrust. I didn't care. We kept going. She was rubbing
herself again.
She was responding even more. It was working. I was
trying to match her rhythm.
Then she went off. The orgasm was delicate but obvious.
I heard the panting, and felt the subtle reflexive
gyrations of her body. The tingle at the base of my cock
turned into a surge.
We both slowed down together. My sharp rib ache subsided
somewhat as I stopped moving. This allowed for the
urgency in my cock to overtake it as the overriding
sensation.
I remember thinking that I wanted to cum again but it
would be difficult with the pain and the numbness. Then
I remember thinking that I had the perfect tool wrapped
around my dick right now. If I had any chance it would
be using my beautiful lady bug. It was the nickname of
endearment I had always used for my little girl.
I never entertained a sexual thoughts about her in all
my life. But then the name, the idea, really turned me
on. Disgusting. The notion of my power over her, my
authority and currently my strong left arm that could
hold her against her will as I used her body for my own
gratification also turned me on. The primal instincts of
a rapist animal.
I had made up my mind.
"Thank you daddyyyyy, UHHH!" She had started to thank me
for my services in her cute, soft, little voice just I
was about to start my first thrust. I startled her
before she got the words out and kept pounding away.
Harder. Harder. There were shots of pain but I was
concentrating at the feeling building at the base of my
shaft. Concentrating on getting it to the brink of
release.
I was losing the edge to the pain and then regaining it
again as I continued the pounding. My instinct was to
grab her hips with both hands and get on top of her and
pin her down. But this is the only possible position I
had so I cleared my mind and filled it with perverse
thoughts of fucking my own daughter. I thought of her at
different stages in her life and the idea of fucking her
then.
That last, prolonged hug goodbye in Arizona before I got
back in the truck and left her to her adult life. It was
strictly father-daughter affection then. Love. But now I
felt myself back in that moment in the 103 degree sun.
It was 2 weeks after her 18th birthday. She was sweaty
wearing only a tan sports bra, white shorts, and running
shoes after we had moved the last of her stuff in to her
dorm room.
I felt her body soften into mine. I was shirtless. I
felt her tits on my lower ribs. My soft cock pushed
against her abdomen below her belly button—her womb.
When she finally relaxed her embrace I looked down at
her moist big blue eyes, I saw her inviting lips pouting
out from her beautiful face. I want to kiss them. I want
my cock in that pretty feminine mouth.
I was perverting a wonderful, wholesome memory to get
myself off.
"Fuck me. Oh yeah... fuck that pussy hard. Your dick is
so big, and beautiful. Oh... Ohhh... uahhh... yesss!"
She moaned between breaths. She was talking dirty to me!
Kelsea was reading the situation and taking the right
action under pressure.
Whether it was because she wanted it to be over with, or
she knew this might be hurting me, she decided to help
me get mentally ready to cum in her. To finish this. It
was working. Now I thought of how she took my dick into
her mouth and started sucking on it. It must have
smelled terrible. I had the sweats several times since I
had last showered at the hospital. I noticed how pungent
and musky it smelled when she pulled down my pants. She
took my dirty cock in her mouth and sucked it proper,
like a delightful little whore. Oh yeah.
There was a time when she was fourteen. She had just
gotten out of the shower. I was sitting on the couch in
the living room by myself watching football. She came in
wearing only her towel and sat down right next to me. I
was going to be giving her a ride to her first high
school dance in an hour.
I think she told me one of her brothers needed to use
the bathroom in an emergency and mom was in our other
bathroom. I guess she was waiting to get back in to get
ready. I was paying more attention to the game than her
at the time. Now I was back reliving that moment and I
only cared about her. Her wet, clean hair smelled
heavenly as she scooted closer and leaned into me. I put
my arm around her and squeezed her shoulder still
focused on the game. She asked me who was winning. Then
she asked who I wanted to win. I was answering without
thinking but now I imagined her wet naked body separated
from me only by a towel.
I could feel the warmth of her body through the moisture
of the towel. When it went to commercial I realized her
hand was on my thigh and her body had become a young
woman's body and not my little girl so much anymore. I
loosened my grasp and took my arm back and reached for
my beer on the table and took a sip. She was off balance
and had to shift, as was my fatherly intention.
So she leaned away from me and let herself collapse to a
lying position. She wiggled onto her back as she lifted
her legs and put them up across my lap. I didn't look
down as I asked her about getting ready for the dance. I
think she said she had to let it air out because Brandon
was doing a number 2.
It was only a thirty second time out and the game came
back on. I put my beer down and adjusted back
unconsciously with one of my hands on her bare thigh and
the other one on her shin. She squeezed my lap tighter
with her legs and dug her heel in behind be against my
butt. Out of my peripheral vision I could see that her
towel was askew and not covering her private parts
completely anymore. I ignored it at the time and tied my
emotions to the plays on TV.
Now as I fucked her I was back in that moment and I
didn't care about the game I cared about that clean bare
pussy that was trying to get my attention. She was
flirting with me. She was teasing her daddy. Was she
horny thinking about the dance that night? Trying to get
my attention with her sexuality? Testing me?
I wasn't having it at the time but now I just wanted to
take a hold of those ankles, spread those skinny clean
legs and plunge between them. I wanted to teach her a
lesson about what happens to sexy little girls who tease
their fathers.
"Fuck me, daddy!" She blurted out dramatically. "I love
it... when you... fuck me, daddy."
Was she reading my mind? What the hell? She reached back
with her right arm and grabbed my waist and slid he hand
down to my butt check and squeezed. She pulled me
tighter against her.
"Oh yeah, fuck me. Fuck your.. little lady bug... I love
it." She cried out with her sexy voice.
I now hate that she said that. That she did the dramatic
dirty talking that women often do when being fucked but
at the time you don't care, it just gets you hotter. It
was exactly what I needed then.
A deep memory found me of Kelsea on her hands and knees
in her green swimsuit. It was ten years ago. She was
facing away from my lawn chair at the beach on Perry
Lake as she worked diligently building a sand castle
when she was 9 or 10. I saw her skin tight suit bottom
hug her shapely little but as she worked back and forth
in front of me rocking back and forth.
The bottom of the suit hugged her snugly like a pair of
green panties. I could see her gap, her cameltoe, her
slender little legs moving as she glistened in the sun.
Her ass wiggled side to side and she spread her legs
unashamedly to get a better angle. A perfect place to
put at dick into.
My god, as far as I knew I had never had a sexual
thought about that! But I had kept staring at her that
way—I had the memory. I was thinking sexually then.
Probably not about her at all but I was using my lady
bug as visual aid for a sexual fantasy. Oh my god!
Crazy. I had completely repressed this. And the footage
kept rolling.
I hadn't looked away. She turned sideways, digging a
moat for her castle and I saw her pelvis wiggling and
rocking to and from a side profile and I still stared at
it. It looked like a smaller scale of a sexy woman's, a
swimsuit model's luscious ass moving, bent over...
doggy-style, ready to be fucked. How much those skinny
models look like little girls.
I was fucking that little pussy now. The same exact
round little ass was pressing against me. I could feel
it. I kept picturing her rocking back and forth on her
hands and knees at the beach.
I climaxed inside her. I came. In my daughter. And I
liked it.
Suddenly I couldn't ignore the pain like there was a red
hot sword jammed into my right side. I groaned as I
rolled back onto my back, sliding out of Kelsea without
thinking about her. I think I even pushed off her with
my good arm and smashed her down into the bed and away
to get leverage.
After relieving myself of the lust she became nothing
more to me than a vessel that had served the purpose of
getting the cum out of my dick. I didn't need her
anymore I just needed to take care of the pain. I
discarded any acknowledgement of her in my selfish
euphoria without a second thought. It gave me a dark
satisfaction to withdraw from her and toss her away. The
primal rapist Neanderthal thing.
With my casted hand I reached for the bottle of pills.
My thumb and index finger weren't broken, just
constricted by the cast, so I managed to get it over to
my left hand, open it and get one of the pills into my
mouth.
She got up quickly and said, "I'm gonna take a shower."
She muttered low as she walked out of the room.
"I love you." I said as she left. It is one of the only
sudden, unplanned things that spewed out of mouth that I
don't regret that day.
"I love you." She mumbled as she stopped at the door
momentarily and was gone. I closed my eyes and fell
asleep.
I woke up to Kelsea shaking me and tugging on my ear.
"Dad! Dad! Wake up. Cecil and Mike are here to see you."
She whispered with urgency into the ear she was pulling
on. They were guys from my station and close friends of
the family for years. I was super stoned then and it
didn't hurt me. I drifted back off for a second.
"Wake the fuck up, RICK! I need to clean up in here!
You've been passed out for hours." She said with even
more urgency now pounding on the sutured wound on my
lower leg. I felt that a little and woke up. This memory
is mostly a blur, filled in by Kelsea later on. She had
pulled and tugged until I was sitting on the edge of the
bed. Then she got me standing. She was wearing a black
T-shirt and jeans now.
"It smells like sex in here, dad. The bed smells like my
pussy, and your cum, and lots of sweat." She whispered.
"That's awesome, baby. I love you the most of anyone." I
slurred as I put my arms around her and stared down at
her. Her look of emergency turned to a smile and eye
rolling. I was like a drunken child she told me later.
"That's all great, dad. But mom will be home in a couple
hours. I need to wash the sheets. We'll say you puked
again a little." She led me to the dresser and was
helping me get a shirt on.
"I didn't puke tho... I didn't puke because you saaaved
me. You are the sexiest most beautiful girl in the wurrr
–old."
"Dad. Listen to me. Get your shit together right now!
You can't say anything about that. Ever. Can you go talk
to Mike and Cecil without talking about me at all?"
"Uh-huh."
"You better, stoned Rick." She said.
So I guess she got me out to the couch and started doing
laundry, making sure to give a disclaimer about how I
took Percocet for the first time today and was half out
of my mind and making up stories about unicorns and
stuff. I talked to my guys for a little while who were
quite amused by my condition. Before I passed out mid-
sentence though I had said that Kelsea was my nurse.
"The perfect nurse." "The most beautiful nurse in the
world." Luckily I didn't go any further before changing
the subject and going incoherent.
When I woke up again I remember it. The pain was back. I
was still on the couch. The guys were gone but my wife
and youngest son were there. It was dinner time. I
forgot to hide the pain like I usually do as they helped
me to the dinner table so I had to deal with my wife
getting dramatic. That helped we wake up more. I was
still half way altered. I sat down and looked across at
Kelsea.
I had half my wits about me now. I remembered what had
happened but the full weight of it hadn't hit me yet. I
apologized to my wife for getting sick on the bed
sheets. Kelsea said that she washed the sheets and
called my doctor. She would be picking up some zofran
from the pharmacy after dinner to prevent me from being
sick again. I noticed I was very hungry but I didn't
have much will to eat.
After dinner I went back to the bed and took an
iburprofen and a shower. My son had gotten the satellite
working again. My wife came in and we talked for an
hour. Mostly about her work and the day she had had.
With time the feeling of impending doom was creeping in
and the pain was mounting. I kept acting normal as she
went to sleep.
Then as I lie awake alone in the dark with very little
of the drug affecting me I let myself have it. I felt
actual terror for what I had done. The real me was
judging the doped up and he wanted to castrate him and
then kill him. I was an abominable man. My rib pain was
really ferocious too and I welcomed it.
I thought that if I am bleeding internally I deserve it.
I should die from my violation of everything decent. I
had ruined my life and my family. At least I had a
vasectomy 18 years ago so I didn't have to entertain the
grotesque idea getting my own daughter pregnant. The
repugnance of it all. Of me!!!
But soon I was sweating and realized I was barely
breathing. I decided to just get through it until my
wife leaves and I can talk to Kelsea. I took one of the
Percocet and one of the nausea pills and then tossed the
perc bottle under the bed where I couldn't reach it. I
waited in depressed misery for what seemed like eons for
the pain to subside and sleep to come.
"NO, Dad! Fuck you! You can't do this to me!" Kelsea
yelled with a beat red face, interrupting me mid
sentence. We were sitting at the kitchen table and I had
just gone on my rant about how awful and sickening what
happened the day before was. I had taken the blame for
it to the point of saying that I deserved to die or
worse for what I had did. But I had definitely
criticized us both.
She was livid. "I made this right in my mind all night
long last night and now you are Jekyll and Hyde-ing me
out of my mind!" She was tearful now. I hadn't even
finished half of the things I was worked up to say but
her sudden anguish took the wind out of my sails.
"Take a pill, or whatever you need to do to get that
close-minded, judgmental, republican piece of shit
asshole back under the rock where he belongs you fucking
motherfucker!" She was practically foaming at the mouth
now.
"Calm down, baby. It's O.K. I'm sorry." All I wanted to
do was comfort her now. I got up to come around the
table to hold her but I smacked my broken shin squarely
on a chair and the pain floored me—literally. I went
down but protected my right side as I slammed on the
ground. The rib pain stung deep. Kelsea was over me
asking me if I was O.K. I was breathing fast and shallow
trying to tell her I was fine. There was no way I could
get up. Chelsea ran to my room.
"Where are the Percocet?" She yelled
"I don't take those any more. Never again." I grunted.
She was standing back over me. "Oh really! You can take
a half you know. Look at your fucking self."
She was right. I was in a bad way. It really hurt to
breathe at all. "They're under the bed. On mom's side."
I was still grunting.
She put half a pill in my mouth and gave me a sip of
water with a straw. Then she tried to give me the other
half. I refused it. She left out the back door. I laid
there alone waiting for relief, gasping like a dying
fish in a bucket. It sunk in what she had said. She had
summed up what she thought of my character. "Close-
minded, judgmental, republican." "Asshole." I lamented
the pain and despair I had put on her face that had been
smiling and loving me minutes before.
That moment changed me. I had stood by the same
principles my whole life. My dad's doctrines. He WAS and
asshole. What had it gotten me? I was the most boy
scout, hard ass at the station. A role I wore proudly.
The guys changed their conversations sometimes when I
came into a room. I know some of them smoke marijuana
and it always disgusted me. I preached from my soap box
a lot and they respected me—but did they really?
"Close-minded." "Judgmental." Or is it just easier for
them to humor me and wait for me to be gone so I don't
escalate a non-situation to an argument that I can't
lose because I only see things my way? These were the
guys I considered my good friends.
Did I have real friends? I got in fights a lot when I
was younger with people telling me to lighten up. I had
changed a jovial mood in a room to a tense one several
time a year by condemning things other people thought
and did. Often in family situations. That was always
O.K. with me because I knew what was right and had the
integrity to stick with it. Everyone else was weak or
wrong. Well what about me yesterday?
I was lower than low.
I had no basis to criticize anyone else. Now I had just
shattered my daughter who I loved immensely and am
laying alone on the floor battered, broken, and barely
able to breathe. My wife is pissed at me and I am too
proud to apologize to her. Is this really the guy that I
am? Is this what it gets me?
The back door opened and closed. Kelsea came over and
knelt down beside me. I was so glad to see her.
"Are you ashamed of me because I smoke pot and got my
belly button pierced?" She asked me.
"No. Not at all. I like you exactly the way you are. I
am proud of you for being your own person." I said
calmly, hiding the physical pain again and trying to
breathe more normally. She just stared down at me with a
look of despair. I had to say more.
"I've never tried weed before. But if I did I would want
to try it with you." I said to her, reaching out.
"What?" She furled her brow. "Are you high again
already? It's been like 3 minutes. The pill isn't even
past your stomach yet." She slapped the side of my face
moderately hard with one hand twice. I recoiled and
raised up my left hand over it.
"No, baby. Not even a little. I still feel a shit load
of pain. Believe me." I said smiling between gasps at
how cute her reaction was.
"Then what the hell? Are you just messing with my mind?
What's going on?" She asked.
"You are going on. You are right. Maybe it took me my
whole life to see it and now I've fallen and can't get
up. But I don't want to be such an asshole anymore."
"You're not an asshole. You are the most awesome dad!"
She said, now defending me from myself. She took my left
hand in hers and put her hand on my head.
"I know what I am. You are more precious than you know.
You make me better. You always have. Maybe I can still
be a tough guy without being a redneck stereotype."
"I didn't mean what I said, dad. You are perfect the way
you are." She said still looking too sympathetic.
"You did mean it and you are right. But don't worry. I
really got happier when I had my epiphany. Thanks to you
I think the world just got bigger for me." I squeezed
her hand. She squeezed back.
"Holy shit. Sorry. Holy cow." She exclaimed.
"It's O.K, baby. We can talk like adults to each other
now. Fuck it." I said. "Now about what happened
yesterday. I meant every good thing I said about you but
what I did was the most fucked up, wrong, despicable
th..." I was interrupted by her hand pressing firmly
against my mouth.
"No it wasn't." She looked me in the eye. "We are going
to handle that my way. You don't say another word about
it. I had it all worked out last night. That's the way
it has to be if you love me. Sshhh." She took her hand
off my mouth and I stayed silent. I racked my brain for
what she could possibly have in mind. She just smiled
and got up. "Just relax and get your pain under
control." She scampered off.
Ten minutes or so later I was breathing easier. I tried
to turn on my left side and push my way up. Kelsea was
there in seconds helping me to my feet.
"To bed now, dad." She said. That's the only place I
knew to go anyway. I was starting to feel the glazed
over high of the narcotic now. She helped my T-shirt off
over my head before helping me into bed. Then she went
over to my wife's sided of the bed, sat cross legged,
and explained.
"I was lying in bed last night having the distressing
thoughts that I thought a normal girl is supposed to
have when they commit incest with their dad."
"I felt bad, woe is me, what have I done?, yada yada. I
cried." She said matter-of-factly. "Then I got tired and
still couldn't sleep. When the energy to keep up the
normal girl reaction wasn't there it went away and I
realized I didn't actually feel that way very much. I
got up and went to the living room and watched the news
stories about you. Especially this one. I smoked a
little in the back yard."
She had the remote next to her and turned the TV on.
There was the channel 6 news special on pause. She
pushed play and it was the 90 second piece on my as a
hunk hero. She paused it again with the picture of me
from the damn calendar.
"Now this guy on the news here. If I didn't know him at
all I would want him to fuck me. But luckily I do know
him. And I want him to fuck me." She looked right at me.
It was intense.
"Baby,..." I tried to stop the crazy nonsense right now
before she said any more but there was her hand smashed
against my mouth again.
"Now, dad. What you did this morning made this more
fragile but if you don't fuck it up we can still pull
this off and be happy, instead of sad. You have to
resist the temptation to block my will on this. You said
you were learning from me earlier. Do you still trust me
to do right for you and me?"
I nodded. I was really buzzed again and feeling some
nausea but I remembered her face after I had put the
pain all over it. I resolved not to do that again.
Everything is alright. I should not kill her mood. I was
deciding to go with the euphoria rather than fight it.
She took her hand away and I stayed quiet.
"And that guy that I want to fuck me there,... now that
he unexpectedly took the stick out of his ass... I would
want to marry him. No joking. But I can't. But I can do
something super cool. I can be as close to him... as a
father and daughter can ever get. She put her hand on my
cock over my thin pants and stroked it. I felt the urge
to resist but I let it play out.
"Do you have nausea?" She asked chipperly. Maybe it
showed on my face.
"Yes. I ate too many cheerios." I replied and reached
for the bottle of zofran. The pill just had to dissolve
under my tongue and I would be alright if I hurried.
Kelsea snatched the bottle out of my hands and threw it
over her shoulder.
"This is perfect!" she said looking like a seven year
old who had just been given a pony. I didn't see how it
was perfect. She shuffled off the bed and came around to
my side. "We have the coolest nausea cure in the world!"
She turned towards the wall, unbuttoned her jeans and
pulled them down just a little. Then she took off her T-
shirt. She had a white lacy bra on this time. She backed
up to the edge of the bed, right in my face. She slowly
wiggled the jeans down. She had white lacy panties on.
The same style as yesterday but virtually see-through.
Her round protruding cheeks were so beautifully formed.
She kept her legs straight and bent over as she peeled
the jeans down to her ankles and I could see her
hairless pussy veiled through the panties.
Then she walked away slowly, moving her hips side to
side exaggeratedly with each stop, so sexy. I was really
back into it then. Watching. Then at the foot of the
bed, still facing away, she slowly worked her ass around
in a little circle a few times. She climbed on to the
bed backwards. To a kneeling position at first, then she
got on her hands and knees and crawled backwards to me.
Her luscious ass curvature blended around her hips up to
her tiny waist. She started rocking back and forth. I
quickly got hard and adjusted my pants.
But I realized—it was because of my memory that got me
off yesterday. Of her preteen ass rocking as it built a
sand castle. My nausea was nonexistent now but a wave of
disgust at myself came over me and a metallic taste
filled my mouth. As much as I may try to have an open
mind now I am not an incestuous pedophile.
I had to put a stop to this. I looked past her backside
up at her head and got a glimpse of the side of her
face. And I remembered that it was her, my wonderful
Kelsea bug. She was doing this for me. I vividly thought
of the pain I had caused her. I had told her that I
trusted her. Probably only because of the euphoria
glazing over my sharpest emotions I pushed out the bad
feelings and felt the affection. And as her petite frame
and perfect ass rock gently the lust in me swelled.
"Keep doing that." I said. She put more into the
rocking. I let the pictures from the memory merge with
the present and it hit me that it was the same sexy
feminine pelvis rocking in front of me. But now I had
access to it. I reached out, put my hand on her ass and
caressed it.
"Kelsea, look at me." She turned around. She saw my
erection and slinked around and freed it from my pants.
Her mouth quickly found its way down the shaft and she
brushed the hair out of her face. She looked up at me
with her blue eyes. She looked happy. I moaned.
"Do you want to take a picture of me, daddy?" She asked.
The perverse amorality of this was there in my mind. So
I struggled with keeping the fortitude to keep trusting
her. I knew where it was going. I knew it was going to
happen or she would be crushed. I looked to the phone on
my nightstand. At that angle I could not reach it.
"No baby, I just want to enjoy this moment with my
unrealistically beautiful daughter." I hated saying it—
what she wanted to hear from me—but I loved it to. I
tried to pour myself more into the pleasure of it.
She kept sucking and I kept watching.
Then she took her mouth away, she moved up and straddled
my thighs. My cock was right up against her pelvis. It
bumped against her belly button ring while she caressed
it. She took her bra off.
"Now, Rick Bishop, do you take your daughter, Kelsea
Anabelle Bishop, to be your lover, in sickness and in
health, as long as we both shall be careful not to get
caught?" She looked at me with a seductive, innocent,
inquisitive face.
"Hell no!" I thought. "When you put it like that it
sounds terrible and shatters my awful perverted
fantasy." But I didn't dare say that to her now.
"Yes I do. If she'll have me." Is what I said out loud.
She smiled so big
She raised her beautiful body up on her knees, her
pelvis right above my dick and lowered herself down
around it, rocking, little by little. She kept eye
contact while her face puckered with sensation. It was
so beautiful. It was too late to go back now. I let
myself into the feeling. Hot and moist around me. She
still had only gotten herself half way down my shaft.
I was puzzled as she grabbed the remote control, turned
her head to look at the TV, and turned it on. She
replayed the hero hunk thing as she watched it and kept
massaging my dick with her pussy, up and down. She had
her left hand on my chest for balance. She was watching
my celebrity on TV while fucking me. Like watching Fight
Club while you fuck Brad Pitt, I imagined.
Towards the end she lowered herself all the way down.
The news clip ended and she turned back around, looked
me in the eye and was biting her lip to deal with the
sudden stretch and sensation from letting me push so
deep up inside her womb, her cunt.
She kept eye contact as she reached down and rubbed her
clit. She changed her motion from up and down to a front
and back rocking. Women often like to do that I
remembered back to my high school days. It's more
uncomfortable to me, partially bending my dick, but with
the pills and the front row seat to this alluring teen
girl riding me it was just fine She moved so gracefully,
so erotically. Her eyes pierced into me with her mouth
open in ecstasy and pain. I felt powerful without moving
a muscle except for my left hand on her hip, feeling the
motion of her divine body. I moved it up and caressed
her breast. I gently milked the nipple.
"Ohhh yeah. Yesss," she moaned. "Keep doing that. I love
you... ahhh... daddy."
"I love you so much, my gorgeous, sexy little lady bug."
I tried to tell her what she wanted to hear, but I
noticed it really gave me a rush too. Combining my
endearment of her as my little girl with sex. So sick
and twisted.
"Ohhh... aaahh... don't cum for one minute." She
increased the speed of her clit hand. "I love.... oh
fuuuck... making love to you, dad... my big daddy." Her
words and the tone of her panting voice and the feeling
of her on my cock and her body and her eyes were really
getting to me. I was all in now. The doubts and guilt
were gone like the nausea.
I saw her strain to keep her eyes open and look at me as
she began her orgasm. The pain/pleasure look on her face
was so intense. She bit her lip at first but as a surge
of orgasm engulfed her the mouth opened wide, her neck
arched back, and she squinted.
It was so sexy I was overcome and I pulled her down
close to me. I felt her breasts against my chest while
her rocking subsided. Our faces touched and I kissed her
on the lips. So soft. As she started to regain control
of her body she kissed back.
It hit me like lightning. Kissing my daughter sensually
and passionately broke through another level for me (or
another circle of hell). I was overcome by it now and
turned my body into hers and over. My dick still deeply
fixed inside her I flipped her petite little body onto
it's back. Now on top of her I kept kissing her as I
thrust into her.
The pain from my ribs pierced through me but my
ejaculation was building to the point of no return. I
had my hand behind her neck and my fingers slid through
her hair as I withdrew a little to look in her eyes,
inches from mine. The waves of pleasure surmounted and I
emptied myself into her.
After the veil of lust lifted I stayed there for a few
moments. Inside her. We kissed again. Tenderly. I
withdrew and put myself back onto my back, with
significant pain, but I didn't let it show. Both of us
were lying there, sweaty, breathing heavily. She put her
hand in mine and we interlocked fingers.
"I love you so fucking much," she said to me. A superb
complement.
"I love you more than you can ever know, baby," I
replied.
She rolled up onto my left chest and put her leg between
mine.
"Can I tell you something, dad?" she asked cutely.
"Please do," I answered.
"Even all busted up with seven broken bones," she
paused. "You are the best lover I have ever had."
I just let the words sit and basked in the glory.
She continued. "Not just because I love you so much more
than any guy I have been with, and you are a really
masculine hotty, and this is wicked exciting freaky, but
also because you fuck me awesome." I was enraptured.
"Don't tell mom, but that was the best sex I have ever
had I think." I told her. The ridiculousness of the idea
of telling mom hit and we laughed. I laughed with her.
"Oh hell. What a crazy life this is, lady bug." Then I
thought to add, "Crazy beautiful. You were right again.
This is much better than my notion to destroy my own
life. You are so wise... and I just goddamn love you so
much." It was getting redundant but I didn't care.
"See, dad. We're closer than we've ever been." She said
sincerely.
We undeniably were.
***
The following morning we got even closer when we smoked
pot together out of an apple in the back yard. She had
brought a little with her in a bag she had rolled up and
pushed inside a "Please get better, Daddy" cake she had
bought at the grocery store and decorated herself. I had
to admire her ingenuity. What cop in their right mind
would even consider destroying a daughter's cake for her
injured father? That funky skunky shit really got me
feeling groovy.
As we laid in the bed together naked exploring each
other's bodies we told each other things we weren't
expecting. I was the 7th guy she ever had sex with.
Lucky seven. She lost her virginity when she was 15. To
a 23 year old college guy! Had I known that at the time
the guy would be dead or in jail, or both. She knew
that. She had been seeing a guy at college for a few
months. He is the guy she had gotten he pot from. He was
a business major.
She had dated a guy who was majoring in fire science
when she first got to school. She met him at a dorm
mixer and she says it was pretty obvious she gravitated
to him because she missed me. He was really nice for a
month. Then he turned into an asshole. She stayed with
him for 5 months during which he made her have
threesomes with him and his roommate who was a fellow
fire science guy and his good friend from high school.
The first time even thought they got her drunk she was
so apprehensive it was kind of like rape. She got used
to it after that. Eventually a girlfriend of hers
convinced her to leave him.
That story made my blood boil and I made her promise to
let me 'pay him a visit' when I was out to visit her
next in Arizona. She warmed up to the idea and that
satisfied me.
Then she told me that the idea of forced sex, to an
extent, actually turns her on. What she was thinking
about as she masturbated that first night was when I
overpowered her with one arm and forced her to put my
dick inside her when she was scared to. Damn, that
wasn't something I would have ever done without being on
hard drugs but listening to her talk about it was so
sexy. If there is a hell I will end up there for that.
But what was done was done.
In my weakened mental state I confessed about the
memories that went through my head while I was fucking
her that time. About the college hug, about the towel
teasing on the couch, and even about why I had her keep
rocking back and forth on the bed--the memory of her as
a 10 year old. She was a little taken aback at first.
She said it was fucked up but the more she thinks about
it the more turned on by it she gets.
Then she confessed that the time she teased me in her
towel after her shower at age 14 she really was horny.
She had recently gotten good enough at masturbating in
bed to make herself have orgasms. But in the shower she
got interrupted by Brandon pounding on the door for his
emergency shit. So when she came out to me she did have
sex on her mind. She knew that I would want nothing to
do with anything like that. But when she saw I was
mostly ignoring her instead of getting upset about it
she got bolder. As she lie there looking at me, trying
to rub her pussy on my leg by hugging my with her legs
she tried to mentally will me to touch it, even
accidentally. Whoa! That got us both going.
That confession transitioned into her giving me a
blowjob. I did not resist at all. She was able to
swallow all the cum this time since I did not blast an
ocean of it into her face like last time. Then she left
me to my relaxed bliss while she masturbated next to me.
In the aftermath we made plans for me to take a trip out
to see her the first week that mom starts school again
in 2 months. She'll pay pro –rated rent for a month to
make her lease extend to then so that helping her move
to her own one-bedroom apartment will be our excuse.
She'll take me inner-tubing on the Salt River with her
friends in the desert. They all tie themselves around a
cooler of beer and get drunk and high while they take in
the scenery.
She was going to show all her girlfriends my news story
collection so I shouldn't be surprised if they hit on me
and try to sit on my lap. If she's still with that guy
with the good pot they will have to sleep separate
anyway because I am staying with her. And when we are
alone I can "bang the shit out of her until we are both
satisfied and begging for mercy." It sounded like a
solid plan. I made a joke that it is rare for a college
daughter to get so excited about hanging out with her
father. We laughed until my side was quite literally
splitting. That damned goofy weed. Life was good.
The guests flowed in and out of the house all day long
for the next week, except we still had our weekday
mornings alone before they would dare to intrude. It was
the best part of the day. Kelsea even got a sexy nurse
uniform from Spencer's at the mall for our last day
alone together. My wife finally gave me a blowjob one
night after I apologized to her. And I learned to accept
myself, the reality of what happened. I acknowledged
that I both wish I could go back in time and prevent it
all from happening and... was glad that I couldn't.
A couple weeks after I got back to work that summer I
confessed to the guys during lunch that I had tried pot
with Kelsea to stop her from crying about me being
ashamed. That created quite a stir. The guys in my squad
started mentioning that the crash had changed me... for
the better. My wife seemed to think so too without
saying it.
I knew it wasn't the accident though, or the head
injury. I would have stayed the same 'close-minded,
judgmental, republican' asshole if left to my own
devices.
It was all Kelsea. My lady bug. My lovely teen daughter
with benefits.
We might both be crazy now, but she really is a miracle.
END
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This story was written as an adult fantasy. The author
does not condone the described behavior in real life in
any way, shape or form. Anyone tempted to act out any of
the scenarios in this story should seriously consider
seeking professional help.
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Kristen's collection - Directory 83