“So, there I was, 18 years old and buzzing with excitement for a weekend camping trip with my dad. We’d been planning this for weeks—just the two of us, escaping the chaos of everyday life to reconnect in the wilderness. I’d packed my bags days in advance, imagining the freedom of being out in nature, far from the noise of the city. But before we left, I couldn’t resist teasing my mom one last time.
I found her in the kitchen, her hands busy chopping vegetables for dinner. She looked up, her eyes tired but warm, as I leaned against the doorway with a playful smirk. ‘Mom, you’re sure you don’t want to come with us? Imagine the three of us, roasting marshmallows under the stars, telling ghost stories…’
She paused, her knife hovering above the cutting board, and let out a soft sigh. ‘I wish I could, Emma,’ she said, her voice tinged with regret. ‘But work won’t wait, and someone has to hold down the fort. You and your dad go have fun—make some memories for me, okay?’
I nodded, trying to hide my disappointment. I gave her a quick hug, her familiar scent of lavender and coffee grounding me for a moment. ‘We’ll take lots of pictures,’ I promised, forcing a smile. She patted my back gently, and I could feel the weight of her unspoken words—be safe.
With that, I grabbed my backpack and joined my dad in the car. He was already behind the wheel, his sunglasses perched on his nose and a grin plastered across his face. ‘Ready for adventure, kiddo?’ he asked, his voice brimming with enthusiasm. I nodded, buckling myself in as we pulled out of the driveway, the open road stretching ahead of us.
The drive was peaceful, the kind of quiet that only comes when you’re with someone who knows you better than anyone else. We talked about everything and nothing—school, work, the latest movies, and even the occasional embarrassing childhood story he loved to bring up. The countryside rolled by in a blur of green and gold, the sun dipping lower in the sky as we neared our destination.
When we finally arrived, the campsite was even more beautiful than I’d imagined. Towering pines surrounded us, their branches swaying gently in the breeze, and a crystal-clear lake glimmered in the distance. The air smelled fresh and earthy, and for a moment, I felt like I could breathe for the first time in weeks.
But as we unloaded the car, reality hit us like a slap. ‘Uh, Dad?’ I said, staring at the pile of gear at our feet. ‘Where’s the other tent?’
He froze, his hands still clutching a sleeping bag, and glanced around as if the missing tent might magically appear. ‘Well,’ he said after a long pause, ‘looks like we’ve got ourselves a little problem.’
I couldn’t help but laugh, the sound echoing through the trees. ‘You forgot the second tent, didn’t you?’
He rubbed the back of his neck, looking sheepish. ‘Guess we’ll have to make do with one. Think you can handle sharing with your old man?’
I rolled my eyes but couldn’t suppress a grin. ‘As long as you don’t snore too loud.’
We set up the tent together, the process filled with laughter and the occasional frustrated mutter as we struggled with the poles. By the time we finished, the sun had dipped below the horizon, painting the sky in shades of orange and pink. We built a campfire, the flames crackling and spitting as we roasted hot dogs and shared stories from past trips.
As the night deepened, the air grew cooler, and the sounds of the forest came alive around us. Crickets chirped, leaves rustled, and somewhere in the distance, an owl hooted. It was peaceful, almost magical, and for a while, I forgot about everything else.
But as we prepared for bed, a strange tension settled over me. The tent felt smaller than I remembered, the walls closing in as we arranged our sleeping bags. My dad noticed my hesitation and gave me a reassuring smile. ‘It’s just one night, Em. We’ll be fine.’
I nodded, trying to shake off the unease. I changed into my pyjamas quickly, the fabric soft against my skin, and slipped into my sleeping bag. My dad settled in beside me, his breathing steady and calm. I turned onto my side, facing away from him, and closed my eyes, willing myself to relax.
But sleep didn’t come easily. The sounds of the forest seemed louder now, more intrusive. Every snap of a twig, every rustle of leaves made my heart race. I told myself it was just my imagination, but the feeling of being watched lingered, creeping under my skin like a cold draft.
And then, in the dead of night, I heard it.
A low, guttural panting, so close it felt like it was right behind me. My breath hitched, and I froze, my body tense as I strained to listen. The sound came again, slow and deliberate, sending a shiver down my spine. My mind raced, trying to make sense of it. Was it an animal? Or something else? The sound was coming from Dad.
My heart pounded in my chest, each beat echoing in my ears as I lay frozen in my sleeping bag. The panting was low and rhythmic, almost like he was struggling to catch his breath. But it didn’t sound right—it was too guttural, too animalistic. I clenched my fists, my nails digging into my palms as I tried to steady my breathing. Maybe he’s just having a bad dream, I told myself. Maybe it’s nothing.
But the sound didn’t stop. It grew louder, more intense, filling the small space of the tent. I could feel the vibrations of it, the way it seemed to reverberate through the ground beneath me. The panting, why noises kind of sloppy. My mind raced, torn between waking him and staying silent, afraid of what I might see if I turned around.
Finally, I couldn’t take it anymore. I whispered, my voice trembling, “Dad? Are you okay?”
The panting stopped abruptly, replaced by an eerie silence that felt heavier than the sound itself. I held my breath, waiting for him to respond, to reassure me that everything was fine. But he didn’t say a word. He seemed embarrassed, oh my did I just catch him pleasuring himself.
“Go to sleep honey, you didn’t see anything did you,” he said nervously.
“I am not silly. I know what you was doing,” I sighed as I looked down at him.
“I… I am so sorry, just getting rid of frustration,” he said to me feeling guilty. “See me and your mom, well we not you know in 2 years. I thought you was asleep.”
I sat up stiffly, pulling the sleeping bag around me like armour. “It’s okay, Dad,” I murmured softly, trying to push past the awkwardness. “Honestly, I get it—it’s natural when things get stale in a long marriage. Honest do what you need to.” My cheeks burned with heat from confrontation but also unexpectedly tinged with empathy.
“Really? Two years?” I asked, my voice barely above a whisper, laced with concern and an unexpected wave of understanding.
He shifted uncomfortably, sitting up to face me in the dim light. “Yes,” he admitted, running a hand through his hair anxiously. “We’ve both been so caught up… Life got busy.”
I felt sorry for him, knowing that his and moms sex life was non-existent. I mean I am a female, there is only us out here and I am 18. No I can’t he’s my dad, or can I help get him off.
As we sat there, a mix of tension and awkwardness hung thick in the tent’s confined space, the air charged with something unspoken yet palpable. I understood—hell, who hasn’t felt that primal urge? And honestly, it made sense; two years was a long dry spell, especially for someone as vibrant as my dad.
“Dad,” I started slowly, choosing my words carefully, “I’m really sorry you two have been struggling. It’s totally normal to feel this way.” My voice was gentle now, an attempt to erase the discomfort hanging between us like fog over the lake outside. “And look… just saying… if you need help relieving that frustration…”
He turned to me sharply, a flash in his eyes I’d never seen before. In the soft glow of our single lantern, his face morphed from surprise to something else—a raw vulnerability mingled with desire. “Emma,” he whispered hoarsely, “I can’t even think about involving you… You’re my daughter.”
“Dad,” I said again, my voice low and steady now. “I’m not a kid anymore, and honestly? If this is our little secret… I get it. We’re adults here.” My heart raced as the words left me; was I really suggesting this?
His gaze locked onto mine, searching, hesitant. Then something shifted—his expression softened with realization that perhaps this forbidden line had already been crossed by circumstance. I could see his sleeping bag raise up between his crotch. Looks like someone as a raging hard on.
“Emma,” he spoke cautiously, “this is… wrong on so many levels. But fuck if I’m not tempted.” His voice was thick with emotion, the struggle evident in every word. “But I’ve got to draw a line here, no matter how… tempting.”
“Dad,” I replied, noticing a tension in his voice but also an unmistakable longing. “I hear you, truly. It’s a line we shouldn’t cross.” The air between us was thick with unspoken desires and forbidden thoughts, yet a boundary needed to stay firm no matter how curious or empathetic my heart felt for his situation.
“Let’s make this clear,” he said firmly, though his hands trembled slightly as he spoke. “I love you as my daughter first and always. This… whatever it is… it stops right here.”
But he needed to release, I sighed as I reached over to his sleeping bag and pulling it down. He was in his boxers and his cock was straining against the material.
“Emma,” he gasped, his voice strained with conflict as my hand made contact with the hard, insistent bulge in his boxers. “This… this is crazy.”
I looked him straight in the eye, a mix of emotions swirling within me: empathy, desire, an undeniable curiosity. “Dad, I know it’s insane to even think about,” I admitted quietly. “But you’re stuck here with me and nobody else. No judgment.” With a gentle yet firm tug, I pulled down his boxers just enough to free his cock from its confinement. It stood erect and pulsing with need—long and thick like a heated steel bar under my touch.
He didn’t push my hand away; instead, he watched me intently, an expression of disbelief and hunger battling in his gaze. “God help us both,” he muttered under his breath, but there was no stopping now—the tent was charged with anticipation thicker than the campfire smoke outside.
“You’ve got two choices here,” I whispered provocatively. “You pleasure yourself again… or let me help.” My fingers traced over the length of him delicately, feeling the velvet skin stretched tight over throbbing veins.
He exhaled sharply at my boldness, his breath hitching as I wrapped my fingers around his shaft without hesitation. His cock twitched against my palm—warm and alive—while I pumped slowly up and down. I leaned down my head towards his raging cock.
“Emma, you don’t have to…” he started, his voice trailing off as my lips brushed against the head of his cock. “Oh fuck,” he groaned involuntarily, arching slightly into my touch.
I held his gaze for a moment, a silent dare in my eyes. “Let’s not think about it too much,” I murmured before taking him into my mouth. The salty taste of him was unexpected yet intoxicating, reminding me how far we’d strayed from familial norms. I hollowed out my cheeks and wrapped them around his pulsating heat, swallowing just enough to tease before pulling back to swirl my tongue round the sensitive tip.
“Jesus Christ,” he hissed through gritted teeth, fingers instinctively reaching out to tangle in my hair but stopping short—a fleeting moment of fatherly restraint clinging to him even now.
I slid down slowly on him again, taking more this time—his girth stretching my lips as I made eye contact, watching every flicker of reaction across his face. His hips bucked slightly at the sensation, but he fought the urge to thrust deeper. “Slow… slow down,” he managed between ragged breaths.
“Emma, you’ve got no idea… how good that feels,” he groaned out, the words a mix of primal pleasure and paternal guilt.
“Hmm,” I hummed around him—vibrating against his dick as he hissed a curse under his breath—that small sound pushed him closer to edge.
Pulling back with an obscene pop leaving wet traces along his skin, pre-cum oozed from the tip invitingly. “Dad… can’t believe we’re doing this,” I said between deep licks along his length like a filthy dessert.
He swallowed hard, gaze locked onto mine—a cocktail of disgust and bliss battling for dominance in those familiar eyes. “We shouldn’t be…” But instead of resistance there was surrender; he guided me to take him whole again whispering praises that dripped so dirty they made me blush yet stoked inner fires within: “Suck your daddy’s cock like you mean it.”
My cheeks hollowed again taking all of him into my throat—eyes watering from intensity but relishing each filthy phrase driving us both wilder: “Keep going baby girl—gag on it.” It drove me mad hearing such filth from my father.
I pulled away again and took of my PJ bottoms and knickers. I laid down and rubbed my clit, “come on dad put it in here.”
The air inside the tent was electric with newfound tension as I lay back, legs slightly parted, an invitation so brazen it should have shocked us both into silence. But instead, my dad’s gaze was locked onto the glistening evidence of my desire as I stroked myself—my fingers circling my clit slowly, a wet symphony of need echoing through our makeshift sanctuary.
“Emma… are you sure about this?” His voice cracked with raw need, unable to look away from where my fingers slipped teasingly between my slick folds.
“I’ve never been surer,” I moaned softly. “We’re already on this path… let’s not stop now.” My pussy pulsed with anticipation, clenching at nothing but wanting to be filled by him.
With a groan that echoed his own hunger, he crawled over me. The weight of his body pressing against mine felt forbidden yet fitting—a taboo dance we’d started without knowing the steps. He guided his cock to my entrance—its tip nudging against me—and paused a moment more for breathless permission.
“Do it,” I breathed out eagerly. “Give your daughter what she needs.”
He plunged into me then in one smooth thrust—all hesitation abandoned—stretching and filling me completely. The sensation of being breached by him, by my dad—the man who had cradled me as a child—was overwhelming and sinful; every inch spread me wide open as he bottomed out inside my tight cunt.
“Ah fucking hell!” The words spilled from me uncontrollably loud enough to startle night creatures outside. “If mom won’t let you fuck her then ah yes, you can fuck me. At least your getting some pussy.”
As he plunged into me, claiming my slick depths, a cacophony of echoed cries escaped from our hidden haven—sensations so intense they seemed to rattle the fabric of the tent itself. “Fuck yes,” I moaned unabashedly, feeling every ridge of his cock as it hammered home, each thrust sending shockwaves through my core. My tits bounced with the force; nipples hard against his chest while he gripped them fiercely—an anchor to reality amidst the depravity.
“Take it like a good girl,” he growled. His words were coarse yet edged with fatherly affection twisted by lust, “You wanted this filthy cunt stuffed?”
I nodded breathlessly into another earth-shattering thrust that stirred up my slit, delving deeper than I thought possible. “Yes!” I gasped out raggedly. “Pound me… fill me up!”
He complied without restraint, driving in relentlessly—the sounds of skin slapping against skin melding with the night’s chorus. My pussy clenched around him desperately as he churned my guts until I howled my pleasure into the canvas ceiling above us.
His balls slapped wetly against my ass with every punishing thrust; a lewd melody that drove me absolutely wild. He pulled back just enough to look at where we joined—his cock disappearing within me—and grunted at the vulgar sight before slamming home once more.
“You asked for it,” he groaned—the pace frantic now—”take Daddy’s dick down your greedy gash.”
My legs wrapped instinctively around his waist drawing him in farther, urging on this carnal rhythm we’d embarked upon. “AH FUCKING HELL!” had become a mantra now, echoing against our makeshift walls while Dad hammered away harder than any drill could manage.
And then suddenly—like a dam breaking—he stilled within me and pulsed hot release deep inside, triggering my own climax so explosively that stars exploded behind closed eyes while screams tore from my throat. Our bodies shuddered together in filth-drenched unity; hearts racing as two beings bound by blood and now indelible sin.
Once spent and quivering from head to toe with aftershocks of climax still gripping us tight in their vice-like embrace—I felt his softening length slip free leaving behind its warm essence pooling between us making quite the mess we’d need clean up later but these moments post-orgasm felt oddly tender despite everything else being perverse: like discovering wine after years without taste buds intact again!
Breathless entwined limbs tangled sheets soaked through our combined release sticky remnants clung onto heated skin clinging memories burned into permanence between father daughter lines blurred beyond repair
“love you Emma always will.”
“Love too daddy,” murmured back closing eyes sleep quickly claimed both letting darkness wash over guilt shame excitement lingering heartbeats.