Read Story: SEASON 1 EPISODE 62

Hazel paused and stared through the windshield, thinking for a moment. “I think the official turning point was when I started looking to validate my urges on the internet. I sought out stories of other father-daughter relationships. They were easy enough to find in chat rooms and erotica, but they always seemed fakey. Clearly written by men with mommy issues. Photos and videos were gold, and much harder to come by back then. Once I found the right keywords, though, my internet browsing habits took a nose-dive. My search history was all smut and taboo. I wasn’t satisfied with standard pornographic fare anymore, and every time I jilled off after that, it was to father-daughter sex, or just to my own fantasies of me and my dad. I felt less shame because there were others like me out there.” Hazel paused and then smirked, “Well, not exactly like me. I never found another girl who was a super-orgasmic deviant like me.

“Soon, I started trying to seduce him. Not totally consciously, I don’t think. My hormones were raging out of control. They had me by the collar and I was following them wherever they pulled me.

“My dad’s routine was pretty predictable, and so a lot of times I would start frigging my pussy just before he came home. I would edge myself, careful not to orgasm too quickly, and I would time it so that I would cum just as he was walking into the front door. And I would call out for him from my room as I squirted into my sheets. ‘Daddy, fuck me, Daddy please!’

“It all came to a head on the seventh day. Almost from the moment I woke up until the evening, I was in my room chaining orgasms together, one after the other. I would sometimes cum a dozen times or more before passing out and sleeping like a rock for an hour or so. Then I would wake up and it would start again. Honestly, I don’t actually remember it that much, because I was in such a fog that day. I do remember experiencing the most intense, sustained pleasure I had ever felt, but I don’t remember many of the details. What I recall now was mostly told to me by my dad, so I may have some of it wrong. But here’s how he tells it.

“He left for work that morning, but he had forgotten to lock the door to my room. I discovered this sometime throughout the day—neither of us are sure when—and when he came back home in the evening, he found that I had escaped my bedroom and made my way to the living room. Windows and curtains were open, but there I was, in the midst of another frig session, exposed and vulnerable to my father’s gaze. My fingers were disgracing my glossy cunny. My girl juices had been released in a flood several times over and were smeared all over the leather couch and dripped down onto the carpet below. My ruddy little pussy was frothing, I had been working it so much.

“Daddy’s eyes bugged out at the sight. This situation wasn’t him merely seeing his little girl naked, as he had so many times before in my lifetime. No, up to that point, he had never seen me going at it firsthand. He had seen me naked a lot that week; and it’s not like he didn’t know I was masturbating. He could certainly hear me calling out for him, calling him by name, I made sure of that; but he had never seen me playing with my slit with his own eyes. He had never seen inside me like he could then. He just didn’t know what to do with me, or with himself.

“It was at that moment, he tells me, that he gave up on any pretense of my innocence. He decided right there that he now known and had seen pretty much everything about his daughter that he ever could. He had seen me grow up as any father would, but now suddenly I was a woman, raw and sexual. To him, I was no longer just a precocious youngster, I had been replaced by a new girl, alive, awakened, and animalistic.

“I had broken his mind. I remember considering briefly that I might be in trouble. Some small part of me still felt shame and embarrassment at my lack of control. But I didn’t expect what happened next.”

Warrick spoke up, “This is when you had sex.”

Hazel laughed, “No, not yet. I swear, I’m getting to it!”

Warrick shifted in his seat and adjusted his erection again, “It’s fine, it’s fine. Take your time with the details. I’m starting to enjoy this.”

Hazel rolled her eyes, but smirked at her husband. She was glad he was coming around to her story. She worried that her admission might turn him away from her. Still, she knew that she had to convince him to take the next step with their daughter.

“I didn’t get in trouble,” she said, “Instead, he just acted… normal.

“‘Hello, honey,’ he said, albeit red-faced, ‘How was your day?’”

Warrick interrupted again, “Just like that? ‘How was your day?’”

“Yes,” Hazel said, “As if this had been routine. As if every girl in the world greeted their father with their pussy wide open. ‘Mm, fuck, Daddy, I feel so good,’ I hissed.

“‘That’s good, do you… want me to make you something to eat?’

“I shrugged and continued to masturbate, edging myself closer to my next cum. I said, ‘I’m not hungry,’ and then I ventured, ‘I just want you, Daddy.’

“‘I love you, too, Hazel. I’m going to make a sandwich,’ he said, then left the room. Eventually he came back—yes, with his sandwich—and he turned on the TV. He sat and ate while I laid on the couch next to him, pumping my fingers inside my pussy and mewling deplorable things in his name.

“‘Daddy, I want your cock. I want you to fuck me. I found videos on the internet, daddy. Naughty videos of other daddies and their little girls. Skinny and young and innocent. Girls just like me. Except my daddy won’t fuck me like theirs do. You’re mean, Daddy. I need your big fuckstick inside me, Daddy. I wanna be like those other naughty girls. I want you to feel your hot cum fill your little girl’s baby cunny.’

“But he didn’t pay attention to me, or at least he tried damn hard not to. He tells me now that he was putting all of his concentration into eating his dinner and watching TV, instead of watching me finish. His indifference, though, made me feel bold in that moment, like I could do anything and get away with it. I was degrading myself in his name, but I still felt like he loved me and respected me as an autonomous, independent being. My heart swelled with love for my father, and my chest tightened with lust for him at the same time.

“I came hard for the last time during that set as I stared perversely at my father. My eyes could have bored holes in him as I watched him do his best to ignore me. I swore fiercely and thrust my narrow hips at him in synch with each wave of pleasure that coursed through my small body, with each spray of cum that squirted forth. Every time my little butt crashed back down onto the leather couch, it made a wet slapping sound as my ass made contact with the puddles of liquid I had created. Still he sat there, almost as if nothing out of the ordinary were happening in his home, as if his own daughter were not beside him, her naked pussy running with cum. Cum for him. The only giveaway that he had any perception of me at all was the big bulge in his pants. He adjusted himself once or twice to minimize the tenting, but it was still quite obvious, even in my fervid delirium.

“After that series of orgasms, I became weak and my body again began to shut down. I felt myself slipping into a deep sleep that probably could have lasted for the rest of the night. After I caught my breath and regained my senses, I looked upon my dad again as a father. I remember truly feeling love for him as his child, and not as the kinky jezebel I was moments before. I was somewhat sheepish about my unabashed behavior, but still I appreciated him as the patriarch and protector who watched over me.

“Slick and naked, I squirmed over to him and dropped my hot, sweaty face into his lap, cooed, and passed out.”

“So, surely that’s when he—”

Hazel interrupted. “I know what you’re thinking, but no, not yet. The way my dad tells it, he just watched TV for the next couple hours as he stroked my face, back, and arms. I’m sure he must have felt tremendous relief that his daughter had returned to normal, at least for the time being. I’ve asked him several times if he tried to take advantage of me, groped me, or if he even stared at my body as I slept, but he has always maintained that he just watched TV. And, yeah, I believe him.

“Eventually, it was time to go to bed for real. Daddy roused me from my deep sleep, and I could barely keep my head up, much less walk to my room. He picked my up by my arms and balanced me on my bare feet, then pushed me toward the bathroom. ‘C’mon, kiddo, time for bed.’

“Now feeling goosebumps from the night air cooling my still-moist skin, I was keen to head straight under the covers, but my dad steered me toward the bathroom first. ‘Gotta brush your teeth, kiddo.’

“Of course, I was not really in the mood for dental hygiene, but my dad insisted. ‘You didn’t brush your teeth this morning before I left, and I’m pretty sure you didn’t do it while I was at work today.’ Still I whined like a brat, but he persisted, setting me on the lid of the toilet. He put my brush and the tube of toothpaste in my hand, but I just threw them back at him in a fit. He sighed, picked them up, undid the cap and prepared the brush, then he held it out for me to take it. I refused and gave him a snotty look.

“He frowned back at me and reiterated, ‘You have to brush your teeth, darling.’

“In that moment, I wanted to shout at him, ‘I hate you!’ And I think my dad sensed it coming, because no sooner did I open my mouth to start hollering then he thrust his hand out and grabbed me by my jaw, squeezing my cheeks to keep my lips apart. I gasped, not knowing what was going to happen next. My eyes snapped to attention, worried, reading the lines on my dad’s face.

“But the creases of his frown softened and shifted back to concern, and slowly he brought my toothbrush to my mouth, reached in, and gently began to brush my teeth.

“This was not something that he had ever done before, at least not since he had taught me how to brush my teeth myself, and I didn’t know what to do but comply. I sat there, mouth agape, as my father held my face close to his and prodded the tooth brush in and out of my mouth. My face burned in shame, partially for recognizing my childish behavior, but also for being put in such an embarrassing, submissive predicament by my dad. The bathroom was dead quiet, save for the soft sound of brushing and my own quiet grunts as my father moved the toothbrush around my mouth. I could, however, hear my heart pounded in my chest quite clearly. I was lucid, naked, and vulnerable and held close by my father. Closer than we had been since well before my super-orgasms had begun.

“After a short while he finished and he gently released me. He stood up and, when he let out a quavering exhale, I realized he has been holding his breath the whole time. He said ‘Go spit, then come back and sit here.’

“I nodded up at him with doe eyes and went toward the sink. He didn’t move and when I returned and sat down once again, he was still standing there. I sat for some time and fidgeted nervously as he stared. It was only after about a minute that I realized he wasn’t staring at me, but into the middle ground, perhaps contemplating his next choice.

“It made me nervous. It was very out of character for my dad to behave that way, and in my lucid state I knew it was my fault. I was a bratty child who had driven him to distraction. I sensed a punishment incoming and I felt an intense need to apologize for everything I had done. For everything I had said. For becoming who I had become: a degraded, immoral slut.

“‘Daddy, I—’ was all I could get out before he held up a finger and shushed me. He held it for a beat longer and then took a deep breath.

“When he breathed a long, shaky breath out, he undid his belt before me, unzipped his pants, and pulled them and his underwear down over his hips. His erection sprang out and bobbed before me.

“I was in shock. For so long I had craved my father’s cock, desperate to have it, and suddenly here it was in front of me and I was at a loss. I didn’t know what to do with it; I could only sit there and stare in wonder and fear. It appeared huge in that moment, and maybe it was. I can tell you now that my dad is fairly well-endowed, but not too much bigger than anything else I’ve had inside me before or since.” Hazel looked to her husband, “A little bit longer than yours, and a little bit thicker, but not by much. Anyway, maybe it just seemed bigger because it was my first time seeing it, but I think at that time I had actually gotten my dad so aroused that his cock had surged beyond its typical size. I had been teasing him all week, after all. There in the bathroom, as he hovered over me, his shaft was fat and twitched in the cool air. Engorged veins crisscrossed their way from the base to the head, which itself was swollen, shiny, and purple.

“For a long stretch of time, I didn’t dare to move. Even though I had begged for daddy’s dick earlier that very evening, I couldn’t bring myself to go through with it. The thought of doing anything sexual with him frightened me. I knew it was wrong, and I somehow knew that it would change our relationship forever, and perhaps I feared it was going to change for the worse.

“The bathroom was stone silent the whole time. I barely breathed, and as I sat there, the pounding of my heart grew in my ears, until it dominated all the other sounds around me. It was a drum driving me forward, driving me to take the next forbidden step. I looked up into my daddy’s eyes, searching for the permission that I needed, but I got nothing in return. He blankly stared down at his cock, unable or unwilling to meet my gaze, ashamed by his lewd presentation to his daughter. I knew then that I had the power, if only for a moment. If I wanted to continue, it was up to me. If I wanted to end it all right then and there, I could. But if I did nothing, I knew that it would be over soon. I realized that I did not need to ask for his consent, but he was asking for mine. My father did not have the will to molest me.

“And yet, although I was scared, I also knew that if I continued, I could satisfy the primal, familial lust that had been building exponentially inside me all week; no, all season. A choice was before me, and time was running out for me to decide.

“While my brain debated my next move in fits and starts, my body began to lead. My pussy dribbled a clear juice down my crack and onto the toilet seat in preparation for use. I shivered as a light sweat broke out across my youthful chest.

“Once more, my eyes fell to his engorged cock. I looked it in the eye, into its slit, which seemed to glisten slightly, and I reached up to it. As I did, it twitched in anticipation. I gripped it lightly at the base, where his shaft met his balls. At the time, my hand was not big enough to encircle it completely with my fingers and thumb. It was pleasantly warm on my palm and even though I had felt other cocks before that point, I was still startled at how it could simultaneously feel so soft and so hard at the same time. I gave it a squeeze and a bead of crystal pre-cum appeared at his slit.

“I released my grip on his cock, but ran my fingers up the underside, caressing the smooth, papery skin until I got to the ripple of flesh just beneath my daddy’s corona. I jabbed my finger into it, which turned the bead of precum into a rivulet that descended onto my forearm. The pressure on his sensitive area caused my dad to grunt lightly, the first noise he’d made since exposing himself to me. It startled me and I looked up for his eyes again, but still he declined to make eye contact.

“While keeping my gaze fixed on his eyes, I brought my other hand up and, with both of them at the same time, caressed his member. I dragged my fingertips lightly over his length, sometimes in the same direction, sometimes going opposite ways. I swirled the seeping precum around his crown, thumbing his slit to gather more and spread it down the shaft. My hands, too, were covered in it, and as I jacked him, sticky sounds filled the room.

“Slowly, I brought my face closer and closer to his cock. In doing so, my line of sight slowly came into alignment with his, until there was nothing he could do, but meet my gaze. I needed him to be present for me. I needed him to see me, and know that it was me. I didn’t want him pretending my hands were those of another girl—like a friend of mine, an old childhood sweetheart, or an Asian prostitute. I didn’t want him to close his eyes and deny in his mind what was happening. I wanted him to look at me, to see his daughter giving herself fully, wantonly to him. Mostly though, I wanted to see his love.

“Still he was stubborn. I got my lips within pecking distance and still his eyes never left his shaft, so I craned my neck back and moved my face directly underneath his shaft. I knew that he could shut it all down if he just closed his eyes, but I hoped that he would not. With my nose underneath his precum-slicked member, I slowly inhaled his scent. It was a combination of sweat and salt and musk. The best way I can classify it was that it smelled like my dad, but ramped up a thousand percent. It took everything I had not to start licking up the copious fluids that glazed the skin.

“I went in for another sniff when his shaft pulsed suddenly and the tip of my nose brushed against that sensitive button of his. Another grunt marked the end of his patience with me. I had finally broken him and he looked me in the eyes. I saw everything I needed from him in that moment. Permission, acquiescence, love.

“I pulled back my head and grinned at him, realizing then that while I was under him, he had planted a cool drop of precum right between my eyes. A sticky strand shimmered between my face and the head of his cock. But that mattered little to me, because I was his and I was ready for anything he wanted to give me.

“I darted forward and took my daddy’s bulbous head into my mouth, sucking out as much precum as he could generate, like a baby nursing on a bottle. The moment he felt my mouth envelop him, my dad’s eyes rolled back into his head and he let out a groan. After that, all tension between us dissolved. I bobbed up and down on his cock and moaned and he gripped the back of my head, thrusting gently to meet me, as if we had done it a hundred times before.

“I did my best to take as much of him into my mouth as I could, but he was so big and I was so little. My small mouth, still encircled with toothpaste, couldn’t get much further past his bulbous crown. He filled me up more than any of my other lovers could. Still, I tried to down him, pressing his shaft as far back as my tiny mouth would let him go. He, too, wanted to go deeper, and he pressed on the back of my head, gripping my hair, encouraging me onward. I felt my throat strain, and I gagged. I was too small to deep throat my father then, so I pulled back.