Stephen Jones - Sex With Daddy

At first, I was totally relieved when she didn't show up, but then, after I had done the housework for the first time hi a week and had changed into my bathing suit, I began to wonder if perhaps something had happened to her. With this thought in mind, I tried to concentrate on my swimming, but it didn't work. I had to know where she was.

I returned to the apartment, changed into a shift and making sure the door was locked behind me, walked over to Sally's house. If I had had any idea of what I would find over there when I arrived, I would never have made the trip.

Sally lived in a residential area near my apartment house. The house which her mother owned was older than the rest in the neighborhood and had a complete basement. As Sally and I were good friends, her mother had given me permission to enter the house through the basement door any time I wanted to do so.

It had become a habit every time I went over there to enter through the basement because I wanted to avoid Sally's mother. On this particular day, I entered the usual way, walked down the three steps that led to the basement and playroom, and recoiled at the scene I saw before me.

Sally was lying back on the overstaffed couch that rested against the far wall of the playroom with one slender leg resting along the back of the couch, the other bent at the knee with her foot on the floor. Between her legs, a fully grown woman – stark naked – moved back and forth in violently passionate gestures, hip to hip, as her eager head bobbed up and down on Sally's tiny breasts.

I could see from where I stood that the woman seemed to be wearing some sort of belt around her waist, and nothing more. I was so shocked and appalled by the vision before me that my hand leaped to my mouth and an involuntary gasp escaped my lips.

Apparently, the woman – not Sally -heard me and whirled around. Her body pulled away from the gaping vagina of my friend and revealed that she was wearing some sort of artificial prick belted around her waist. It was a huge, curved organ, glistening with moisture from where it had so recently been imbedded and, as its wearer turned to face me, it vibrated in the dim light.

"What the hell do you want?" she demanded as she rose and took a threatening pace toward me.

I couldn't have answered if my life had depended on it and – for all I knew – it might have. Fortunately, the sound of the woman's voice made Sally herself open her eyes to look around the room. As if in a daze, she finally focused on me and in a soft, sheepish voice, half spoke, half whispered, "Oh, hi?"

"Hi, yourself," I managed. "I hope you're having fun!"

"Oh, God," Sally said, ignoring the sarcasm in my remark. "Goddamn, am I ever! Lucille's got-some fake dick that makes you really feel wild!"

"Shut up," the woman said. She was still standing in front of the couch glaring at me, the huge prick bobbing up and down before her.

"Hey, it's okay, Lucy," Sally said. "She's okay. She's a friend of mine."

"I was a friend of yours," I corrected. "I never want to see you again!" With that I whirled around, ran up the cellar stairs and out the door.

I was running so fast I hardly had time to think until I finally staggered into Daddy's and my apartment. Then, completely exhausted, emotionally and physically, I rushed into the bedroom and threw myself on the huge bed.

Grasping the pillow that still held a soft memory of Daddy's after-shaving lotion, I buried my face in it, clutching it to my breasts, and bawled in choking agony.

I was still lying there in some form of a trance when Daddy finally came home. If he called for me, I didn't hear. I do know that I felt pressure beside me on the bed and his gentle hand on my shoulder and his soft, familiar voice saying, "There, there, kitten. It's all right."

At last my sobs broke into a torrent of wailing grief and hurt. I grabbed Daddy around the waist and buried my head in his lap as my very soul poured out in tears that were long overdue.

For days, I couldn't explain my emotions for they were such a tangled mixture of hate, fear, hurt, guilt and love, plus the adolescence that I had willingly denied myself. But again Daddy was understanding and did not press me. He was the most wonderful, understanding, loving man in the whole world and it was that quality that, three days later, made me confess to him my experiences with Sally.

Strangely enough, it changed Daddy's and my relationship a final time. For my confession brought about a new kind of love between my man and me – a love that could only be fulfilled by a woman's most priceless gift.

I had to give, to prove my love, even though I knew that by giving I was to ruin the very relationship that was more valuable to me than anything else in the world.

For three days, I lived a life of abject penitence. I stayed in the apartment silently doing every extra chore I could think of. As if, by working harder and harder, I could erase my own guilt and prove to Daddy that I really loved him and no one else. But after all that work, I found that I could not live with myself. I knew I had to confess.

Daddy was my mentor, my confident – my all! I could not continue living in secret shame, holding a part of myself away from him. Because of this, I had to tell him about the lesbian affair with Sally.

I started all right, but then, as I began to continue the story in hopes of easing my own conscience, I lost all self-control, I broke into a sobbing confession, blurting out all the details of our perverse acts. But the main part was my confession that I had only done it to test my love for Daddy, that I had wanted to find out if others could thrill me in order to compare his ministrations.

Throughout the whole terrible scene, he remained calm and understanding. Finally I threw myself across his knees and buried my face in his lap, begging for forgiveness and promising that I would never do anything like that ever again.

He merely stroked me gently on the back of the head and said over and over again, "It's all right, kitten. It's all right!"

That night, it seemed as if the slate of my guilt had been wiped clean. Emotionally, at any rate, I was a virgin again. We lay in bed for a long time before any physical contact was made, but we were sharing a fantastic love nonetheless. When Daddy did reach out to touch me, an electrical shock soared through me with an intensity I had never experienced before.

That night, after my confession about Sally and myself, I completely gave myself to Daddy, literally fusing my soul with his. The emotions we shared then were to cement the bond between us – an amalgam no lovers ever made stronger. It was a deep feeling that needed no words, that knew no guilt, because we were both godlike in our love and cared naught for the whims of society.

That was our first total emotional and physical commitment on a mutual basis, and I know that I will never, ever achieve anything even remotely similar with any other man.

Our love was never cracked, dimmed or lessened in the next two years. Many of the boys at school asked me for dates, but I refused them all and no one would ever have found out our secret if it hadn't been for the depth of my own love.

I think I probably knew from the very beginning that I wanted Daddy to fill me with his child. But it was an instinctual feeling then. It didn't reach the surface until after I had passed my sixteenth birthday. Then it began to grow into a fixation, It seemed that not a day passed when I didn't dream of making our love complete by bringing a new life into the world.

Daddy had taught me research and scholarship. I haunted the local library, reading everything I could about incest and the effects of it on offspring. I could not find one valid example of deficiency brought on by incest alone. Granted, some books insisted that certain traits could be increased by incestuous mating so that if both the father and daughter were feebleminded, their child might be too. But neither Daddy nor I had any medical or mental weaknesses!