As I sit down to recount this tale, a cold dread washes over me, a familiar companion these days. Guilt, shame, disgust – they’re the unwelcome guests that have taken permanent residence in my soul. What I did was monstrous, a betrayal of the deepest bond imaginable, and the weight of it threatens to crush me daily. Yet, there’s a morbid compulsion to lay it all bare, to dissect the rot that festered within me and poisoned everything I held dear. Perhaps in the recounting, I can find a flicker of understanding, though absolution feels like a cruel joke.
For years, my life was a picture of suburban contentment. A comfortable home, a stable job, and a wife, Sarah, who was once the vibrant centre of my world. But time is a thief, and it slowly stole the spark from our marriage. We drifted into a polite but hollow co-existence, conversations dwindling to logistics and shared routines. Intimacy became a ghost, a dim memory of a fire long extinguished. I buried myself in work, in the monotonous rhythm of daily life, desperately trying to ignore the gaping void that had opened up between Sarah and me. I told myself this was just the ebb and flow of long-term relationships, that passion inevitably faded, replaced by a quieter, more comfortable companionship. A lie I desperately clung to.
Then Emma turned eighteen. My little girl, suddenly a woman. It’s a cliché, I know, the proud father watching his daughter blossom. But with Emma, it was different. It was like watching a sunrise explode in my own home, blindingly beautiful, almost painful in its intensity. Her childhood awkwardness had melted away, revealing a stunning young woman. Her hair, the colour of spun gold, cascaded down her back in soft waves, framing a face that was rapidly losing its youthful roundness, sharpening into elegant angles. Her eyes, the same piercing blue as her mother’s in her younger days, held a depth and intelligence that both thrilled and intimidated me. And her body… God, her body.
It was impossible not to notice the changes. She’d always been slender, but now curves were emerging, softening her silhouette. Her breasts, pushing against the thin fabric of her shirts, were full and high, their youthful firmness undeniable. I’d catch glimpses of them in the periphery of my vision, rounded shadows beneath her clothes, and my breath would hitch. Her stomach was flat, toned from years of dance, leading down to the gentle swell of her hips, promising curves tightening into long, sculpted legs that seemed to stretch on forever. They were legs made for movement, for dancing, for… other things my mind shamefully conjured.
I hated myself for these thoughts. Emma was my daughter. My flesh and blood. The idea of desiring her was a perverse, sickening violation of everything I should have held sacred. I tried to squash these feelings, to bury them under layers of denial and guilt. I lectured myself, reminded myself of my role, of the unconditional love I was supposed to feel, the protective instinct that should have been my only response. But the unwanted desire persisted, a dark undercurrent in the stream of my everyday life. Every time she walked into a room, a wave of heat would wash over me. Every accidental brush of skin sent a jolt through my system. I told myself it was just paternal pride, a father’s admiration for his beautiful daughter. But deep down, I knew it was something far more sinister, a sickness festering in the shadows of my heart.
One night, the house was quiet. Sarah was away on a business trip, and Emma and I were alone. I was working late in my home office, papers scattered across my desk, the hum of the computer the only sound in the stillness. Then, a soft knock on the door. My heart jumped into my throat.
“Come in,” I managed, my voice sounding rougher than I intended.
The door creaked open, and Emma stepped inside. She was wearing a silk robe, a whisper-thin garment that shimmered in the dim light. It was belted loosely at her waist, but the fabric clung to her curves, outlining the shape of her breasts, and the gentle slope of her hips. Beneath it, I could see the faint outline of her thighs, a tantalizing hint of skin. My mouth went dry.
“Daddy, can I talk to you for a minute?” she asked, her voice barely above a whisper, almost hesitant. She looked pale, and her usual vibrant energy dimmed. Her lower lip trembled slightly, and she fidgeted with the silk tie of her robe, her fingers twisting the fabric nervously.
I nodded, trying to keep my voice steady, to project an air of calm I was far from feeling. “Of course, sweetheart. What’s wrong?”
She stepped further into the room, closing the door softly behind her. The click of the latch echoed in the silence, sealing us in together, a feeling of claustrophobia suddenly tightening in my chest. She stood there for a moment, her back to the door, her gaze lowered as if gathering her courage.
“It’s… it’s about college,” she finally said, her voice still hushed. “I got my acceptance letter today.”
“Emma, that’s wonderful!” I exclaimed, relief flooding through me. College. Of course. Silly me, letting my mind wander into dark corners. I stood up, ready to embrace her, to share in her excitement.
But she didn’t move. She remained standing by the door, her shoulders slumped, her gaze fixed on the floor. “I’m… I’m scared, Daddy,” she whispered. “Really scared.”
“Scared? Of what, honey? College is an adventure, a chance to explore new things…” I trailed off, sensing that her fear wasn’t about academics or dorm life.
She took a deep breath, and then, in a gesture that shattered the fragile remnants of my self-control, she let the robe slip from her shoulders. It pooled at her feet in a shimmering heap of silk, leaving her standing before me, naked.
The breath hitched in my throat. Time seemed to warp and stretch, each second an eternity as my eyes devoured her. Her skin was pale in the soft light, luminous and smooth. Her breasts, round and perfect, stood high and proud, the nipples small and rose-pink, tight with a mixture of nervousness and… something else I dared not name. Her stomach was flat and toned, a gentle indentation of her navel, leading down to the dark triangle of hair at the juncture of her legs, a subtle shadow hinting at the secrets hidden within. Her legs, long and slender, seemed to tremble slightly.
She didn’t speak, just stood there, vulnerable and exposed, her blue eyes wide and imploring, fixed on mine. It was a plea, a silent offering, a desperate act of… something I was too confused, too overwhelmed, to fully comprehend.
“Emma…” I choked out, my voice barely audible, a strangled rasp in my throat.
“I don’t… I don’t know what to do, Daddy,” she whispered, her voice trembling. “I feel… things. Confused. Lost. And… and I trust you. I… I need you to help me understand.”
Her words were a twisted justification, a siren song luring me further into the abyss. Help her understand. By doing this? My mind screamed in protest, logic and morality warring with the raw, animalistic desire that had taken root within me. But at that moment, the reason was a distant whisper, drowned out by the roar of my blood.
I knew, with a horrifying clarity, that I should stop this. That this was a path to destruction, a violation beyond redemption. But the sight of her naked vulnerability, the desperate plea in her eyes, the unspoken invitation… it shattered the last vestiges of my resistance. I was weak, broken, consumed by a depraved hunger I’d kept hidden for too long.
I moved then as if in a dream, drawn to her by an invisible force. I reached out, my hands shaking, and cupped her face, my thumbs tracing the delicate curve of her jawline. Her skin was soft, like velvet, still carrying the warmth of her body. I leaned in, my lips meeting hers in a kiss that was tentative at first, then deepened with a desperate hunger.
She responded instantly, her body pressing against mine, soft breasts flattening against my chest, her arms wrapping around my neck, pulling me closer. Her lips parted under mine, and I tasted her sweetness, the innocent freshness that only amplified the forbidden nature of what we were doing.
My hands moved down her back, tracing the curve of her spine, settling on the rounded fullness of her buttocks, squeezing gently. She moaned softly against my lips, a sound that ignited a firestorm within me. I kissed her harder, deeper, my tongue exploring her mouth, tasting her, claiming her.
I slid my hands around her body, cupping her breasts, my fingers teasing her nipples, watching as they hardened into tight buds. She gasped, her hips shifting against mine restlessly. “Daddy…” she breathed, her voice thick with desire.
I lifted her effortlessly, her legs wrapping around my waist, her body clinging to mine. I carried her to the couch, laying her down gently amongst the scattered papers and work files, a grotesque juxtaposition of the mundane and the forbidden. I knelt between her legs, spreading them wider, my eyes fixed on the dark triangle between her thighs, the source of my torment and now, my twisted obsession.
The silk robe lay discarded at her feet, a forgotten barrier. Before me lay the most forbidden fruit imaginable, my daughter, naked and vulnerable, well in just her red knickers, no bra, offering herself to me. The guilt was a sharp, agonizing pain in my chest, but it was overshadowed by a tidal wave of lust.
I leaned down, inhaling her scent, a delicate mix of soap and something uniquely Emma, something intoxicatingly feminine. I kissed her inner thigh, then her knee, and worked my way back up, my lips trailing fire across her skin, until I reached her centre. The air hung thick with unspoken desire, with the weight of the unspeakable act about to occur. I looked at her, my eyes searching hers, desperately seeking some sign, some flicker of doubt, some reason to stop. But all I saw reflected was a mixture of fear, confusion, and a raw, undeniable longing.
And then, I lost myself completely. I pushed aside the last vestiges of conscience, of morality, of fatherly love. I was no longer a father, just a man consumed by lust, by the forbidden allure of his daughter’s body. I pulled her knickers to the side to reveal her sweet pussy. I positioned myself between her legs, the head of my erection throbbing against her soft flesh. With a slow, deliberate movement, I pushed inside her.
Her virgin tightness resisted at first, then yielded with a soft gasp. I felt the heat of her, the moistness, the exquisite pressure as her body enveloped mine. It was wrong, so profoundly wrong, yet in that moment, it felt like the only thing that mattered. The forbidden thrill, the intoxicating sense of transgression, overshadowed everything else.
“Daddy…” she whimpered again, her fingers digging into my shoulders, her hips lifting to meet my thrusts. “Oh God… it hurts… but… don’t stop.”
I moved slowly at first, testing the boundaries, savouring the sensation of her tightness, the feeling of being buried deep within her. Her body was exquisite, everything I had imagined and more. Her breasts bounced with each movement, full and round, begging to be touched. Her pussy, tight and wet, gripped me fiercely, sending waves of pleasure through me, warring with the agonizing guilt that still gnawed at my conscience.
“This is wrong, Emma,” I groaned, my voice strained, a pathetic attempt at self-justification, even as I continued to move inside her. “We shouldn’t be doing this.”
“No, Daddy… please,” she begged, her breathing ragged, her hips bucking harder now, meeting each of my thrusts with increasing urgency. “It feels… it feels… good.”
“Good?” I repeated, the word tasting like ash in my mouth. Good? This was a desecration, a perversion of everything sacred. But the pleasure was undeniable, a dark, consuming force that threatened to obliterate my soul.
“Yes, Daddy… harder,” she moaned, the words tearing through whatever remained of my resolve. “Deeper… in my pussy… please, Daddy, please.”
“Umm, Daddy,” she whimpered, her hips bucking to meet my thrusts. “I want this. I want you. Yes harder, oh fuck… right there, Daddy. Oh, God. Fuck your dick feels so good, Ahhhh Dad.”
I sucked in the air trying to hold back, as I hammered into her sexy slit. Her wet gash.
“My pussy…” she moaned, the words breathy and desperate, almost lost in the sounds of our bodies moving together. “It feels… so tight… around you… so good…”
Her honesty, her raw vulnerability, should have been a deterrent, should have snapped me back to reality. Instead, it was fuel, igniting the forbidden fire within me to an even more dangerous intensity.
“Tight?” I repeated, my voice strained, a question and a statement all at once. “You are so tight, Emma.”
“Ummm… yes… Daddy… so tight…” she whimpered, her head rolling from side to side. “Like… like it was made for you… for your dick…”
She gasped again, her back arching further, her legs tightening around my waist. “Oh, Daddy… yes… deeper… fuck… deeper…”
“Deeper?” I echoed, pushing in further, feeling the slight resistance, the exquisite pressure that tightened my chest and made my vision swim.
“Yes… right there… oh God, right there…” she cried out, her voice cracking, reaching a fever pitch. “In my pussy… feel it… Daddy, feel how wet I am…”
The words were a revelation, a blatant invitation into the most intimate parts of her. ‘Pussy’. The word was raw, explicit, and coming from her lips, it was unbelievably arousing. My mind, already teetering on the edge, felt like it was about to shatter completely.
“Wet?” I whispered, my fingers tracing the curve of her hip, feeling the dampness that had already seeped onto my skin. “You are so wet for me, Emma.”
“Yes… Daddy… so wet… for you… for your dick…” she repeated, her voice thick with sensation. She looked between her legs as she watched my cock pump in and out of her cunt. “Look at it, Daddy… look at my pussy… ahhh hard… harder.”
I plunged deeper, harder, abandoning any pretence of restraint. The gasp that ripped from her was swallowed by my mouth as I leaned down and kissed her fiercely, tasting her breath, and feeling her teeth graze my lip. Her hands tightened on my shoulders, her body convulsing around me. Her knickers were pulled to the side, the sides of the materiel rubbing against my shaft as it pumped into her sweet pussy.
“Hold on tight, this is going to be rough. I want to make your pussy squirt for the first time ok,” I took a deep breath and went full at it. I mean really at it, her pussy took my cock really hard and very fast. I never even fucked my ex-wife like this, her mom. My pubic bone hit and slapped very hard against her bare clit as I truly fucked her cunt really hard.
Emma screamed as I pounded her pussy, her voice echoing off the walls. “Daddy! Oh fuck, Daddy! Your cock is so big, it’s stretching my little pussy so much!” She threw her head back, her golden hair cascading over the couch cushions as her body shook with each thrust. “I’m going to… I’m going to cum, Daddy! Fuck, fuck, FUCK!”
Her words were punctuated by loud, wet slapping sounds as our bodies collided, my balls smacking against her ass, my thick shaft plunging in and out of her tight hole. The room filled with the obscene symphony of our flesh meeting, her juices coating my cock and dripping down onto the couch.
“That’s it, baby girl,” I grunted, feeling her pussy clamp down around me. “Cum for Daddy. Squirt all over my big dick.”
I grunted, feeling my own edge creeping closer, but I held back, wanting to wreck her first. “You’re gonna squirt all over Daddy’s cock, huh? Let me feel that pussy gush.”
Her moans turned to screams, high and desperate, as I slammed into her, my pubic bone grinding her clit. Her pussy spasmed, a flood of wet heat soaking my dick, dripping down my balls, and pooling on the couch. “Daddy! Fuck, I’m squirting… oh shit… yes!” she cried, her whole body shaking, eyes rolling back.
“Goddamn, Emma,” I groaned, my cock throbbing inside her, sliding through her sloppy mess. “I wanna nut in you so bad… fill that tight little twat up.”
“Do it… Daddy… cum in me… please,” she whimpered, legs trembling around my waist, her pussy still twitching from her orgasm. “I wanna feel it… all of it…”
I couldn’t hold back anymore. I thrust deep, burying myself in her cunt, and let go. My cock pulsed, thick ropes of cum shooting into her, hot and heavy, filling her up. She gasped, her pussy milking me, squeezing every drop as I groaned loud, hips jerking. “Fuck… take it… take Daddy’s load…”
“Oh… Daddy… it’s so warm… so much,” she moaned, her voice soft and shaky, fingers clutching my arms as she felt me spill inside her.
I collapsed over her, breathing hard, my cock still twitching in her overflowing pussy. Cum and her juices leaked out, sticky and wet, dripping down her thighs onto the ruined couch. Her chest heaved, tits rising and falling, as she looked up at me with those wide, blue eyes, a mix of awe and something darker.
“Stay in me… don’t pull out yet,” she whispered, her voice hoarse, legs tightening around me. “I wanna feel it drip out slow…”
I nodded, too wrecked to speak, my mind spinning with guilt and lust as I stayed buried in her, feeling the mess we’d made together.