Stephen Jones - Sex With Daddy

"I don't want a scandal," she said. "I don't want any of those maniacs coming to the funeral. Could you… I mean, could you and some of her normal friends come? Just to make it look as if Sally was a nice, normal girl." And with that, she lost control and snapped. Placing both hands against her face, Sally's mother began to sob into her palms.

There was nothing for me to do but to agree to speak to some of Sally's old friends and to attend the funeral with them. But the next three days were so hectic, so fraught with fear and sorrow, that I had no time to think or dream of the baby I had wanted so badly.

Poor Sally had been caught in a trap of her own making and the jaws had snapped shut with violent force. That thought stayed with me in my mind throughout all the telephone calls I had to make and through the funeral itself. I went there with Daddy and could hardly think of anything else as the minister spoke the final eulogy for Sally.

After it was over, I took a tight hold of Daddy's hand as we left the small cemetery chapel. Without words, we walked back to where we had parked the car. Still silent, I opened the door and started to get in. But my dress caught on the latch. Before I could realize it, I had ripped a small rip in it. My dress had been caught by the car's door and now – suddenly in a flash of total awareness – I knew that I would be caught, too.

I knew exactly how I would have Daddy's and my baby, and the child that I hoped would bring ultimate fulfillment to our already perfect relationship was already in the planning.

What I didn't realize was the fact that we had already been caught in another way and that the child, instead of giving the fulfillment of which I dreamed, would constitute the final trap – a trap that was soon to slam shut with the same power and deadly force that had snuffed the life from my friend, Sally.

But it is true, ignorance is bliss and in the great rose-colored cloud of my dream, I set about to become pregnant.

My first task, of course, was already complete. I had timed my menstrual cycle to a point where I more or less knew the time at which I would be most fertile.

My second task was to give up the pill entirely, without letting Daddy know. This, I began immediately even though I had over half a container still in the medicine cabinet.

My plan was really quite simple. It's a wonder I hadn't thought of it long before I did. I was going to allow Daddy to get me pregnant, tell him the truth, and after that, we would both tell the world that I had been raped.

Exactly how all this was to take place and in what sequence, I had no idea. I was so dependent upon Daddy being able to run my life, that I thought, in this case too, he would prove to be the wiser of the two of us.

It was summer. A warm, humid night and the window of the bedroom was open. Because we had a second-story apartment, neither Daddy nor I had paid much attention to drawing the shades.

There were no buildings particularly close to us and the new apartment house that had recently been completed near us was almost fifty yards away. The blanket and top sheet of the bed had been pulled down so that we could enjoy what little of the cool breeze that came through the wide open window.

Daddy and I were both lying on top of the bed, completely naked before going to sleep. We were talking about buying a new car so that I could have the old one for my very own. We were lying facing one another each with our heads nestled on our elbows, and as he talked about some of the automotive literature he had read, Daddy reached out and gently ran his hand over the trough of my waist and up over the fullness of my now mature hips. The hips of a woman, not a child.

It was slow and sensual, but more a gesture full of love than tingling with animal desire. Even then, however, I sensed that this night would, somehow be different. How terribly, terribly different, I could never guess. But then, I listened to what he had to say and savored the delicate sensations of his fingers gently caressing my flesh.

Gradually, however, the pure tenderness of his caress changed me to more positive desire. I rolled onto my back so that his probing fingers could find my sexual parts and fondle and play with them. I loved it when he did that to me, because it made the whole lovemaking seem longer and richer and fuller; it was such a gradual building of passion within my body!

His fingers inched into me, playing with my vagina and clitoris as if they were frets on some remarkable musical instrument. I, in turn, reached out and took a gentle grip of his rod. Slowly, I gave it a tug and began to move the loose outer flesh up and down until he, too, became harder and harder.

Still, I continued my gentle ministrations knowing that as I did so, he would become even more erect and desirous of sharing his body and soul with me. But both of us knew that this initial play couldn't last forever and finally, as if of a single accord, we stopped as he rolled to a position where he was kneeling with his buttocks on his heels, between my knees. He gripped his huge prick – the tool of my most intense pleasure – in one hand. Gently leaning forward, Daddy placed the hot tip of it into the opening of my passion. As he moved this way, I stared at the beauty of our two bodies joining in forbidden passion, yet in passion so great that even if it had been forbidden a million times, I still would have found some way to continue with our lovemaking. I watched him move so that just the head of his prick sank within me and my lips seemed to rise to meet it and jawlessly clamp it tight inside me.

But he teased me that night. He pulled away and it seemed that a frightening gush of cold air hit the spot where he had just been. It was frustrating and yet doubly exciting, for within a split second, he again touched me with his love stick and this time pressed himself just a little bit farther into my steaming need.

Again he pulled all the way out, letting the hotness of almost-congress be replaced by humid summer air that seemed by comparison to have been blown over an iceberg. He did this again and again as I watched and panted in wild anticipation.

Each time he would pull completely away from me and then sink himself back into my eager opening just the slightest bit farther than he had been the time before. And each time he did so, he remained in such a position that I had a complete and unobstructed view of the meeting of our genitals. Even when he made his last move, he was like a man doing pushups, his upper weight resting on his straight arms and his legs extended between mine. We lay there for a long time watching the fusion of our sexual parts.

Feeling the same impossible sensations surging through me I could no longer stand it and reaching up to throw both my arms around his back, pulled him down to me with all my strength and cried, "Daddy! Oh, Daddy, do it Make a baby in me… "

He still thought I was taking the pills, and my words seemed to make his penis even harder inside me. Like a shaft of sheer power and energy, it slid back and forth in my welcoming cunt, the servant of a monstrous passion.

And then after what seemed like hours of agonized pleasure during which I savored each tingle of our love, I felt the first throbs of his involuntary muscles pulsating him into orgasm. With the heat of his love exploding into me, I could feel in surging up into me, meeting and boring into my waiting egg. Only then was I so completed with the knowledge that I lost all control and, wrapping my legs tight around his back, I tried to rise to the very ceiling as he plowed toward the floor.

My orgasm was total, complete and full of woman's secret knowledge. I knew without fear or shame that I was pregnant! Soon I would bear the child I had always wanted. The offspring of the man I loved more than anyone or anything in the world.