The digital air of the chatroom hung thick with unspoken desires, the kind whispered in the anonymity of glowing screens. I’d been drawn in by the promise of a fleeting connection, a momentary escape from the quiet hum of my own stale marriage. There she was, “Claire_DreamyEyes,” her profile picture a cascade of auburn hair and a teasing glimpse of the shoulder. We’d exchanged pleasantries, a harmless flirtation that spiralled quickly into something decidedly more charged. Her name itself was a soft melody on my lips, Claire. I complimented it, and felt a thrill at the way she responded, but the truth lodged in my throat like a shameful secret: there was a wife, a daughter, waiting in the hushed normalcy of my life outside this digital den.
Numbers were swapped with the ease of online transactions, a silent agreement to take this flirtation offline, into the realm of hushed whispers and stolen moments… or so I’d hoped. I saved her contact, “Claire Online,” a small rebellion tucked away in my phone’s memory. The chat window closed, and a different kind of window opened – my gallery, filled with images meant for no one but the darkness of my own urges. My fingers, emboldened by the anonymity and the thrill of the chase, selected a recent, rather proud snapshot of my engorged manhood. A text box blinked, inviting my depravity. “Claire,” I typed, each letter a pulse of anticipation, “I so want to bury this inside you, or maybe you’d prefer to taste it first?” The words felt hot, illicit, a dangerous thrill coursing through me.
With a surge of foolish confidence, I hit ‘send.’ Then, the mundane reality of my contact list snapped me back to earth. Scrolling to “Claire,” a sickening lurch hit my gut. Two Claires. Two entries, identical names, side-by-side like mocking twins. One, the digital siren, the object of my lust, the other… my daughter. My Claire. Twenty-one years old, with eyes that held my wife’s gentle kindness and a spirit I used to know so well.
Panic clawed at my throat. I frantically tried to recall the online Claire’s number, searching for a digit, any digit that would confirm it wasn’t her, my daughter. Wasn’t it…? There was a ‘22’ somewhere in the memory, a fleeting numeral clinging to the edges of my frayed nerves. Please, God, let it be the ‘22’ number. My thumb hovered over the first Claire, the one I’d just added. A blind, desperate click. Sent.
Thirty seconds stretched into an eternity, each tick of the clock amplifying the dread. My phone vibrated, a jarring buzz against the silence of my suddenly hollow apartment. Hope flickered, a pathetic, desperate ember in the face of the encroaching inferno. Maybe she would like it? Maybe this was some twisted fantasy taking flight? My finger trembled as I unlocked the screen, the message notification searing itself onto my retina.
“Dad. WTF. I am your DAUGHTER. I did NOT need to see that. OMG, it’s fucking huge, holy hell. Why would you even think of wanting to put that in me? That’s SICK. What would Mum say??”
The words slammed into me, each capitalized syllable a blow. My legs turned to water, the floorboards seeming to tilt beneath me. I stumbled towards the bathroom, propelled by a primal urge to cleanse, to disappear. The linoleum was glacial against my bare feet, a stark reminder of the cold reality crashing down. I splashed icy water on my face, the shock doing little to extinguish the burning shame that scorched my skin. This wasn’t a nightmare. This was real. My reflection stared back, a haggard stranger haunted by his own monstrous stupidity.
Think, a desperate voice screamed in my head. Think! Damage control. Impossible. How could I even begin to untangle this grotesque mess? Each potential explanation felt more damning than silence.
Another buzz, sharper this time, laced with fury.
“Are you even going to say anything? This is beyond disgusting. I need to bleach my eyes with industrial-strength cleaner.”
Panic morphed into a frantic, desperate need to say something, anything. My fingers flew across the keyboard, stumbling, fumbling, betraying my racing mind. “Claire, I… God, Claire, I am so, so unbelievably sorry. It was a mistake. A colossal, horrifying mistake. Please, please, don’t tell your mum. I was… I was talking to someone else in a chatroom. Another Claire. I saved the number wrong. It was meant for her. Not you. I swear to God, Claire, it was an accident. The other girl’s name was Claire too, can you believe it? The most horrific coincidence.”
I stared at the pathetic string of words, each one a further testament to my idiocy. Mistake? Could anything so vile, so profoundly wrong, ever be reduced to a simple mistake? My stomach churned, bile rising in my throat.
Another notification. My hands shook so violently, that I nearly dropped the phone.
“So, you’re just going to blame it on some random online woman? That’s supposed to make this okay? You are utterly disgusting and pathetic, Dad. I honestly don’t know what’s worse – the picture itself, or the lame, transparent excuse. And FYI? I AM telling Mum.”
The last three words detonated in my mind, a nuclear strike against the fragile walls of my carefully constructed life. My wife. Sarah. The woman I hadn’t truly touched, not with passion, not with genuine desire, in years. Could I even begin to explain that to Claire? The gaping chasm in my marriage, the gnawing loneliness that had driven me to seek solace in the artificial glow of a chatroom? A fragile, desperate idea flickered: honesty. Perhaps, with my daughter, at least. She was my flesh and blood, after all, even if I’d just horrifically violated the sanctity of that bond.
“Claire, please…” I typed my heart a leaden weight in my chest. “Just… just hear me out. I know this is monstrous, and I deserve every ounce of disgust you feel right now. But please, don’t tell your mum yet. Let me try to explain, and then you can decide. Our relationship, yours and mine, all of ours… it hasn’t been right for a long time. Your mum and I… we’ve drifted so far apart. We haven’t been truly intimate in years, Claire. Years. And I feel… invisible. Like I’m just… existing. I know that’s no excuse for what I did. It’s not. I am not trying to justify it. I made a terrible, unforgivable choice. But… I was lonely, Claire. Desperately, achingly lonely. And that, even that, doesn’t even begin to excuse my actions.”
I held my breath, waiting for the digital explosion, the volcanic eruption of daughterly rage and betrayal. Tears pricked at my eyes, hot and shameful. What wreckage I had created. A pathetic, horrifyingly stupid mess, all born from a drought of affection, a wasteland of intimacy within my own home.
My phone buzzed, the sound jarring in the suffocating silence. One stark message illuminated the screen: “I had no idea “. Then, another text followed immediately, shockingly, almost flippantly, “But if it cheers you up at all, just so you know… you’re packing some serious heat, Dad. Mum is definitely missing out.”
My mind reeled. “Nice cock?” Was this… sympathy? Some bizarre form of daughterly… support? It only amplified the surreal, grotesque absurdity of the situation. My daughter, traumatized by the accidental visual assault of my genitals, was now offering… compliments?
“Claire,” I typed, fingers still trembling, “Seriously, that’s… not the point. Not even remotely the point. The point is I royally screwed up. I hurt you, I disgusted you, I may have irrevocably damaged something precious. The… size… of it… is completely, utterly irrelevant right now.”
A beat of digital silence. Then another text pinged through. “Okay, okay, point taken. But still… I actually kinda get the loneliness thing, more than you probably think. College guys are pigs, and sometimes it feels like nobody sees me, the real me, you know?”
This was… unexpected. A faint flicker of understanding in the heart of this catastrophe. A strange, unsettlingly intimate turn. Could there possibly be a way to navigate this… through this?
“I am so sorry you feel that way, Claire. You deserve to be seen, truly seen, to be cherished for exactly who you are. And I, of all people, should have been the one showing you that, not… seeking validation from strangers online. I failed you, Claire. As a father.”
My phone chimed again. I braced myself and clicked open. “YOU haven’t failed me, Dad. Sorry, wasn’t trying to make you feel worse, just… you’re not the only one who’s lonely, okay?”
A fragile hope, delicate and dangerous, began to unfurl within me. “Bless you, honey,” I typed back, bewildered and touched. “And… thanks, I guess. Honestly, if you weren’t my daughter… you are beautiful, Claire.” The words slipped out before I could censor them, a reckless confession amid chaos.
Her reply was instantaneous, electric. And then, another message followed so quickly it almost overlapped, an image icon loading beneath it. “Oops. Wrong chat again lol. Consider us even now, for you see mine. Kind of bored in this flat… you could… pop over if you want. Honestly, seeing yours… kinda got me a bit horny.”
My blood roared in my ears, every nerve ending firing. My cock, mortifyingly, hardened instantly, responding to the blatant, shocking invitation. The picture of her smooth clean shaven pussy, I was obsessed with sex and knew I would buckle. My hands shook so badly I could barely type. “I… I thought you were furious with me, honey.” The words felt weak, inadequate, lost in the swirling vortex of the impossible suggestion, the forbidden allure hanging in the digital air between us. I stared at my car keys on the table.
The temptation was overwhelming, a siren’s call that drowned out the last vestiges of reason. My Claire, my daughter, offered herself to me, her father, in a moment of shared loneliness and unspoken desires. It was wrong, so profoundly wrong, yet the ache in my loins and the desperate longing in my heart urged me forward.
“I’m on my way,” I typed, the words burning with a fervent, reckless need. I grabbed my keys, the metal biting into my palm as I hurried out the door. The short drive to Claire’s flat was a blur, my mind racing with the enormity of what I was about to do.
Was I planning on going to my daughters for sex? The thought should have repulsed me and sent me careening off the road in horror and shame. Instead, it fueled a desperate, primal need, a hunger that consumed all rational thought. I parked haphazardly, barely remembering to turn off the engine before I was out of the car, striding towards her building with a purposeful gait. My heart hammered against my ribs, a frantic drumbeat that echoed the throbbing in my groin. Each step brought me closer to the precipice, the point of no return. Claire’s flat was on the second floor. I took the stairs two at a time, my breath coming in ragged gasps that had nothing to do with the exertion.
I knocked on her door, the sound echoing in the silent hallway. A moment later, it swung open, revealing Claire standing there, her hair tousled and her eyes shining with a mix of nerves and excitement. She wore a silky robe that clung to her curves, the fabric slipping off one shoulder to reveal the smooth, pale skin beneath.
“Dad,” she breathed, her gaze flicking down to the apparent bulge in my pants. “You… you actually came.”
“Claire,” I whispered, my voice hoarse with desire. “We shouldn’t… this is wrong.” But even as I spoke the words, I was moving towards her, drawn like a moth to a flame. My hands reached out, hovering just above her skin, aching to touch her.
“Then why did you come?” she said folding her arms which made her tits pushed upwards. “Don’t mess with my head, you did this shit to me as a kid. Promised things and it never happened. If you don’t want my body then just fucking go, sick been let down.”
Her words struck me like a physical blow. Not because of the sexual invitation, but because of the accusation, the raw pain in her voice. Promised things and it never happened…you did this shit to me as a kid. That wasn’t about sex. That was about broken promises, about a father who hadn’t been there, about a lifetime of letting her down.
The erection that had been raging within me withered instantly, replaced by a crushing wave of guilt and remorse. I had almost done the unthinkable, driven by lust and loneliness, completely blind to the deeper wounds I was about to reopen.
“Claire,” I said, my voice barely a whisper, “You’re right. I’m so sorry. You’re absolutely right.” I took a step back, putting distance between us. The desire hadn’t vanished, but it was now overshadowed by the profound realization of what I was about to lose, what I had almost irrevocably destroyed. Trust. Any semblance of a father-daughter relationship. Her innocence.
“This… this was a terrible idea. I messed up. Again. I’m going.” I turned to leave, my shoulders slumped with shame.
“Wait,” she said, her voice softer now.
I hesitated, my hand still on the doorframe. I didn’t dare turn around. “What is it?”
“You… you heard me? About… what I said about when I was a kid?”
I swallowed hard. “Every word. And I understand now. Or at least, I’m starting to. I wasn’t there for you, was I? Not really.”
Silence hung in the air, thick with unspoken grief. Then, a sniffle. “No. You weren’t. But you are here now, and we know why you are here after you accidentally sent me a pic of your cock thinking I was a hot chick online, guess I am not hot.”
I winced. So she knew about the photo. The humiliation was complete. “Claire, I…” I stammered, unable to formulate a coherent apology. “That was a mistake. A stupid, drunken mistake. It doesn’t excuse anything, but… I wasn’t thinking.”
“Clearly,” she said, a hint of amusement creeping into her voice despite the underlying sadness. “So, what now? Are you going to run off and disappear again? Or are you finally going to try to be a dad? You can start by coming with me.”
She just walked off not waiting for an answer as she went into her room. I followed her and as I entered she was taking off her nightie. Wow, she had no bra or knickers on. My cock went rock solid again and strained against my pants, damn she looked so good.
Claire turned, catching my gaze on her naked body. A flicker of something – defiance, perhaps, or even a hint of invitation – danced in her eyes as she lay on the bed. “Well? Are you coming or not?”
“As long as you… you don’t tell anyone,” I said walking over to the bed and undoing my jeans. I took them off and my boxers as my hard 10 inches cock sprang free.
“Damn it looks bigger than the pic,” she grinned as I got between her legs as I grazed the tip of my dick up and down her juicy slit.
“I won’t tell anyone, I promise, are you going to tease my kitty or are you going to slide it inside me,” she whispered, her voice barely audible.
One thrust forward I sank my dick inside her pussy.
I plunged deep, burying myself in her warmth. She gasped, her hands gripping my shoulders, her nails digging into my skin. “Oh, god, Dad,” she moaned, her head thrashing against the pillow. “That feels so good.”
I began to move, slowly at first, savoring the sensation of her tight grip around me. Then, I increased the pace, thrusting harder and deeper, each stroke eliciting a moan from her lips. “Yes, Claire,” I groaned, my voice thick with lust. “Like that?”
“Mmm, fuck, yes!” she cried, her hips bucking against mine. “Don’t stop, Dad, don’t stop!”
I continued to thrust into her, our bodies moving in perfect rhythm. The sound of our heavy breathing filled the room, punctuated by the occasional slap of skin against skin. I could feel myself getting close, my balls tightening with each stroke, but I didn’t want to cum yet. I wanted to draw this out, to make it last as long as possible.
So I slowed down, changing the angle of my hips to hit her G-spot. She cried out with pleasure, her back arching off the bed. “Oh, fuck, Dad, right there!” she moaned, her voice strained with pleasure.
I continued to pound into her. “Do you like that Claire?”
“Yes, oh god yes!” she repeated. I grabbed her ass cheeks squeezing her pussy tighter around my dick, I went faster and faster until I was close and so was she.
“Dad, I’m so close,” she said. “Ummm.!
“Come on sweetie take Daddy’s cock, your pussy feels so good, I am in no way near cumin,” I said as I started hammering her cunt hard.
I paused, hovering over her, my body slick with sweat. Her eyes were wide and glazed with passion, her cheeks flushed, her breath coming in ragged gasps. “Tell me what you want, Claire,” I whispered, my voice hoarse. “Tell me what you need.”
She arched her back again, her hands clenching into fists. “I want you to fuck me, Dad,” she gasped, her words raw and uninhibited. “I want you to fuck me hard!”
And I did. I unleashed the full force of my desire, driving into her with a primal intensity. She met me thrust for thrust, her moans growing louder and more frantic as she neared the edge.
Finally, with a shuddering cry, she climaxed, her body convulsing beneath me. I felt her contractions gripping my cock, pulling me deeper inside her. She soaked my cock and her bed as she squirted it took her breath away. Did I stop pounding her pussy. Nope, I just went harder and faster.
I didn’t stop. I kept pounding her, pushing her further, even as her body trembled with the aftershocks of her orgasm. I wanted to possess her completely, to erase all the doubts, all the years of neglect, with the sheer force of my pleasure.
I flipped her over, her breasts now pressed against the bed, I pinned her down. Spanking her ass as I sank back into her again and again.
“Oh, god, Dad!” she cried out, her voice muffled by the pillow. “Harder!”
“You like that, Claire?” I grunted, my voice strained. “You like it when I fuck you like this?”
“Yes!” she screamed, her voice cracking with pleasure. “Oh, yes! Don’t stop, Dad! Don’t ever stop!”
I kept hammering into her from behind, my old balls slapping against her ass with each thrust, the sound echoing in the otherwise silent room. Her moans were muffled by the pillow, but I could hear them, feel them in the way her body bucked and trembled against mine. “Ughhh, Dad… fuck… yes… don’t stop… please…” she gasped between moans, her nails digging into the sheets as she clung to the edge of the bed.
I gripped her hips tighter, holding her still as I drove into her again and again, each thrust deeper than the last. Her pussy was so hot and wet, so tight around my cock, it was driving me insane. I could feel myself getting closer to the edge, but I fought it, wanting to keep going, wanting to feel her pleasure for as long as possible. “You like this, Claire?” I grunted, my breath coming in ragged gasps. “You like it when Daddy fucks you from behind?”
“Mmmph… yessss… fuck me… harder… please… Dad… oh god…” Her words were broken, desperate, lost in the throes of passion. I increased my pace, pounding into her with a raw, animalistic rhythm. The bed frame creaked under our combined weight, the only sound besides our ragged breathing and her increasingly frantic moans. “Uhnnnn… oh fuck… oh fuck… Dad… I’m gonna… AGAIN WOW… Best sex ever.”
“Best sex ever,” she repeated, her voice breathy and thick with satisfaction.
Her words hit me like a shot of pure adrenaline. Best sex ever? Coming from her, in this situation… it was a heady mix of taboo and triumph. My cock pulsed inside her, still rock hard, still demanding more. Even though she’d just come, her pussy felt tighter than ever, clinging to me like a second skin. And the way she was gasping, her body still trembling from her orgasm, told me she wasn’t done either.
“Is that right?” I grunted, my hands still holding her hips firmly. “Best sex ever?” I needed to hear her say it again, to confirm the insane reality of what was happening.
“Mmmm-hmmm,” she mumbled into the pillow, her ass wiggling slightly against me. “Ughhh, Dad… you’re… amazing.” Her words were slurred, almost incoherent, but the meaning was clear.
Amazing. Me. Her dad. Fucking amazing. The thought sent another surge of heat through my groin. I wanted to fuck her again, and again, and again. This wasn’t just about lust anymore, although God knows that was a massive part of it. It was about something deeper, something twisted and complicated and utterly irresistible.
I slowed my rhythm slightly, drawing back almost all the way out of her, then plunging back in deep. “Still feel good, Claire?” I whispered, my mouth close to her ear, my breath hot against her skin.
“Oh, god, Dad,” she moaned, her head turning slightly on the pillow. “Yes… please… don’t stop.” Her plea was a raw, desperate sound that sent shivers down my spine.
“Never,” I growled, resuming my pounding rhythm. “I’m never going to stop fucking you, Claire.” Maybe it was the heat of the moment, maybe it was the insanity of the situation, but the words just tumbled out of my mouth, raw and possessive.
I varied the depth and angle of my thrusts, exploring every inch of her tight, wet tunnel. Her moans intensified, morphing into high-pitched whimpers and gasps. “Ahhh… Dad… more… harder…” she begged, her body arching up to meet each thrust.
I gripped her hips even tighter, lifting her ass slightly higher to get an even deeper angle. My balls slapped against her buttocks with every thrust, a rhythmic thudding that echoed in the room, adding to the primal urgency of the moment. “Like this, Claire?” I grunted, pushing into her with all my force.
“Yessss… oh fuck, yes!” she screamed, her voice cracking. “Harder, Dad… fuck me harder!”
Her words were like fuel to a fire. I let loose, hammering into her with unrestrained power, my stamina seemingly endless. I wanted to fuck her until she couldn’t take anymore, until she begged me to stop, and even then, I wasn’t sure I would.
I flipped her back over, rolling her onto her back and straddling her body. She looked up at me, her eyes glazed over with lust, her lips swollen and parted. Her chest heaved with each breath, her breasts glistening with sweat. She was utterly beautiful, utterly ruined, and utterly mine in this moment.
“You’re incredible, Claire,” I breathed, my voice husky with desire. “So fucking incredible.”
I leaned down and kissed her deeply, our tongues tangling, our breaths mingling. Her hands came up to cup my face, pulling me closer, and deepening the kiss. She tasted like sex and sweat and pure, unadulterated lust.
Breaking the kiss, I looked down at her body, my gaze lingering on her bare breasts, her flat stomach, and the dark triangle of hair at the apex of her thighs. Her pussy was still wet and glistening, swollen from our earlier encounter.
I lowered myself onto her again, guiding my cock to her entrance. She gasped as I slid back inside her, the familiar warmth and tightness enveloping me once more. It felt like coming home like I was meant to be inside her, like this was where I belonged.
I started to move again, slowly at first, savouring the sensation, then gradually increasing the pace and intensity. I watched her face, her eyes closed now, and her lips parted in a silent moan. Her hands were gripping the sheets, her knuckles white with tension.
“Tell me what you want, Claire,” I whispered, my voice low and urgent. “Tell me what Daddy wants to hear.”
She opened her eyes then, her gaze locking with mine. There was a wildness in them, a primal hunger that matched my own. “Fuck me, Dad,” she said, her voice barely a whisper, but filled with an undeniable power. “Just fuck me.”
And I did. I fucked her like my life depended on it like I was trying to fuck away all the years of regret and distance and unspoken pain. I fucked her until the bed was shaking, until our bodies were slick with sweat until her moans were nothing but raw, animalistic sounds.
She came again, and again, each orgasm more intense than the last. Each time, her body convulsed around me, her pussy clenching tight, pulling me deeper into her pleasure. And each time, I just kept going, fueled by her response, by her moans, by the intoxicating taboo of it all.
Even as she climaxed, I didn’t stop. I kept pounding into her, driving deeper and harder, refusing to let go, refusing to break our connection. I felt myself getting closer to the edge, the pressure building in my groin, but I held back, wanting to stay inside her, wanting to feel her warmth and tightness for as long as possible.
Finally, it became too much to bear. The waves of pleasure crashed over me, pulling me under, drowning me in sensation. I groaned, a deep, guttural sound that came from the depths of my being, and emptied myself inside her, my hot seed gushing into her depths.
I collapsed on top of her, my chest heaving, my heart pounding in my ears. We lay there for a long moment, tangled together, our bodies slick with sweat, our breaths coming in ragged gasps. The only sound was the creaking of the bedsprings as we slowly stilled.
Eventually, I rolled off her, lying beside her on the bed, still breathing heavily. Claire lay on her back, her eyes closed, a small smile playing on her lips. Her chest rose and fell with each breath, and a faint blush lingered on her cheeks.
The silence in the room was thick, and heavy with unspoken words and unanswered questions. We had crossed a line, a line that should never have been crossed. And now, we were both left to deal with the consequences, whatever they may be.
But in this moment, lying here naked and exhausted beside her, with the scent of sex still heavy in the air, I couldn’t bring myself to regret it. It was wrong, so incredibly wrong, but it had also been… exhilarating. Transformative. And, dare I admit it, undeniably pleasurable.
I turned my head to look at her, studying her face in the dim light of the room. She opened her eyes then, her gaze meeting mine. There was a complicated mix of emotions in her eyes – confusion, curiosity, maybe even a hint of fear, but also… something else. Something that looked a lot like lingering desire.
“Wow,” she whispered, breaking the silence. “That was…”
She trailed off, unable to find the words to describe it. And maybe, I thought, there were no words to describe what had just happened between us. It was something beyond words, something forbidden and dangerous and utterly unforgettable.
“Yeah,” I murmured, my voice still hoarse. “Wow is right.”
What happens next? I had no idea. But for now, lying here in the aftermath of our transgression, all I knew was that I wanted more. And judging by the look in Claire’s eyes, she might just want more too.