Stephen Jones: Sex With Daddy

As the weeks went by, he introduced me to real scholarly investigation, as opposed to the memorization of mere facts and dates as taught in the school system. He taught me to reason and to question my reading materials and teachers' statements rather than taking them at face value. Daddy's philosophy was: Never blindly believe anything you read or hear, and only half of what you actually see yourself.

Even though our relationship tended to seem intellectual on the surface, it had become a strong emotional bond of friendship. He still treated me as a daughter – a female who had to be educated and taught – but he also showed me a great deal of affection in a physical way – affection that would have passed unnoticed if I had been a little girl but might have set tongues wagging since I was going on thirteen.

We were always open and free with one another and Daddy became the only true confidant that I could really trust. The so-called generation gap didn't exist with us. He seemed to understand the problems I faced and the way I thought, and everything he said seemed to make complete sense. I felt I could trust him completely with any secret and with any promise.

When I got my first period I got so excited that I called him into the bathroom to see my flow, hoping he would be as excited as I. He took it as a matter of course and told me he would have to go out for some napkins for me. When he came back, I was still so thrilled that I made him help me with the new belt and with the pad. This event brought us even closer.

We used to sit together on the couch in the evening just reading or listening to music. I suppose it was there that the subtleties of seduction first started.

One evening we were on the couch, sitting side by side, listening to a recording of Beethoven's Fifth Piano Concerto Daddy had just bought. We both were totally involved in the music. He had his arm over the top of the couch and I didn't even notice that his fingers had slipped down to my shoulder. I honestly don't believe he did, either.

Feeling warm and wonderful, I snuggled closer to Daddy and somehow his hand dropped so that his fingers were touching my right breast. And then, very gently, his hand was cupping it. Suddenly, gently, his fingers moved away and he reached over to the coffee table for a cigarette.

"Don't go away," I said. "That felt so good."

He cleared his throat, lit the cigarette and leaned back on the couch without looking at me.

"Please, Daddy," I said. "Touch me there again."

"Kitten – " he began, clearing his throat nervously.

"What's the matter, Daddy?"

He was obviously embarrassed. "Nothing," he said. "It's only that – "

"What?" I asked in all innocence.

He took a hard drag on his cigarette, held the inhaled smoke for a long time, then turned to me with a vary strange half-lost look on his face.

"You know," he said at length, "you look almost exactly like your mother. I guess I – "

Again I waited for him to finish. When he did speak again, his voice was tense and low; almost as if he had to force enough volume into it for me to hear him.

"Remember, kitten, a long time ago when you asked me about boys and menses…?"

A strange, unexplained thrill seemed to tingle through me for a second, as if I had been touched by some electrified particle of emotion that hit me for an instant, shivering through me. I nodded my head.

"Well, now you've grown to be such a big girl, I guess I just didn't think."

"About what, Daddy?"

"About… touching you… there… "

"I liked it, Daddy," I said. "Please touch me there again."

He didn't say anything after that, but I could see that he was fighting amp; losing battle within himself. He leaned back on the couch and, still holding the cigarette in his left hand, slipped his arm over my shoulders. Gently, but far more firmly this time, he cupped my right breast. I, in turn, snuggled closer to him and first let my head rest on his chest, then relaxed so that it slid into his lap. Under my right ear I could feel the surge of excitement pushing as his penis grew and throbbed against my cheek.

"Daddy?" I murmured.

"What, kitten?"

The music – strong and dynamic, and sensual beyond belief – was still flooding the room, filling it with an emotion so powerful that it colored every nerve of our feelings.

"Let me sleep in your bed tonight?"

"What?"

"Hold me like this," I said. "Let me sleep in the same bed with you."

He didn't answer for the longest time. I even thought for an instant that he hadn't heard me, but finally, after an agony of his silence and a lifetime of crashing emotion brought by the music, I heard him say, "All right, kitten. All right."

His words were something between a gasp and a sigh as if he were finally facing the fact that whatever fight he was making was hopelessly lost. But, with the loss of it, he seemed to suffer some intense relief.

We sat there listening to records until past ten o'clock. He holding my breast, I pressing against the hardness of his penis under his trousers until finally, after the last record ended, we both got up at the same time.

We brushed our teeth together and where he usually turned toward his room and I toward mine, this night I followed him into the big bedroom. I knew Daddy never slept in pajamas and lately, I had taken to the same practice. The shades in the room were drawn and he turned on the light at the head of the big bed.

Neither of us were in any way self-conscious about slipping out of our clothing. Daddy still had an erection as he stood naked. It frightened me somehow, particularly when he walked over to me, put his arms around me and embraced me standing before the mirror.

I could look into the glass as he did so, and see our naked bodies flattened together. I could feel the warmth of his body flattening my breasts and pressing against my stomach, the hard pressure of his turgid penis pulsating against my stomach.

Gently, he pulled away from our caress and, with one arm around my waist, led me to the bed where we both lay down. I was terribly excited and wanted him to touch me right away, but Daddy was not so overcome with desire that he would forget the tenderness a young girl needs. Gently, he assumed the role, not of a lover but more as an instructor and I, eager to learn – to thrill and be thrilled – became his student.

The light at the head of the bed was still on and, lying on my side, I could see the whole length of Daddy's slim, muscular body as he reclined on his back with the arched curve of his penis pointing up from its soft pillow of pubic hair.

Very slowly he explained how the penis worked and what was most exciting to a man. He showed me the foreskin and the head of his penis and then, with just the finger and thumb of his right hand, he showed me how to move the skin back and forth so that it caused a pleasant sensation.

I still hadn't touched him when he stopped and changed the subject to women. He explained the structure of my vagina to me and told me that sensation there lay in the clitoris as well as inside. Then he reached over and, with his left hand, gently caressed the tiny bit of pubic hair I had. I was terribly excited by this time and my cunt lips were very moist. He had no difficulty parting them slightly and extending his fingers so that one of them gently caressed my throbbing clitoris while the other probed slightly into my slit.

I lay there with my legs spread wide, letting the sensations of Daddy's fingers shoot through me like wonderful waves of shock. I can't even express how good it felt like that.

Then, I felt such burning excitement that I simply closed my eyes and floated in a pink pool of the most intense pleasure I had ever experienced!

I didn't hear all that he was saying, but I remember him mentioning that often women liked it when men used their mouths on them. The words jarred me to a turbulent consciousness and filled my mind with an image of Mrs. Bradley as she had been using her mouth on Daddy. I could feel the electrifying sensations caused by his fingers playing with my most delicate parts. I also had a wild desire to touch his prick again and even – yes – to put it in my mouth the way I had seen it done before.