The alarm blared at 7:00 AM, and I groaned, slapping the snooze button with the precision of a man who deeply regretted his life choices.
Camping.
It had sounded like a great idea a week ago when Alison suggested it—just father and daughter, bonding in nature. Now, staring at the clock through half-lidded eyes, all I felt was the crushing weight of exhaustion. At 49, I wasn’t exactly the rugged outdoorsman I’d fancied myself in my twenties. And if we were being brutally honest? The last decade had been… dry. Let’s just say that since my wife left, my love life had been as barren as a desert.
I dragged myself out of bed, splashed some water on my face, and shuffled downstairs like a zombie in flannel pajamas. The smell of coffee hit me like a blessing from the gods. Alison was already in the kitchen, humming along to some pop song while flipping pancakes with the confidence of a woman who had her life together.
“Morning, sleepyhead!” she chirped, flashing me a grin.
I grunted in response, reaching for the coffee pot like a man clinging to the last shred of his sanity. “You’re way too cheerful for this ungodly hour.”
She rolled her eyes. “It’s seven AM, Dad. The day’s practically half over.”
Alison was… well, she was everything a dad could be proud of—and maybe a little terrified of. At 18, fresh out of high school, she was a force of nature. Today, she was dressed for the wilderness in a bright yellow tank top that clung to her curves and denim shorts that barely qualified as clothing. Her long blonde hair was pulled into a messy ponytail, and her blue eyes sparkled with excitement.
“You ready for this?” I mumbled between sips of coffee.
“Born ready!” She slid a plate of pancakes toward me. “Just you and me, Dad. No distractions, no stress—just nature, fresh air, and quality bonding time.”
I forced a smile. “Yeah. Bonding.“
I hoped I could keep up.
By 8:30, the car was packed—overpacked, really. Alison had insisted on bringing half her wardrobe, and my ability to say no to her had always been embarrassingly weak.
“You realize we’re only going for two days, right?” I asked, eyeing the bulging duffel bag she’d stuffed into the trunk.
“Better safe than sorry,” she said breezily. “What if there’s a sudden fashion emergency?”
“In the woods?”
“You never know.”
The drive was scenic, at least. Towering pines, crystal-clear lakes, and the soundtrack of Alison’s pop playlist for the first hour before I staged a mutiny and switched to classic rock.
“Dad, no,” she groaned as Sweet Child O’ Mine blared through the speakers.
“Dad, yes,” I shot back, grinning.
We arrived at the campsite around noon—a decent spot with a fire pit and a picnic table.
“Alright,” I said, clapping my hands together with forced enthusiasm. “Let’s get this tent up.”
That’s when the first disaster struck.
I wrestled the tent out of its bag like it was a rabid animal, fumbling with the poles while Alison unpacked the cooler, humming to herself.
“Need any help, Dad?” she asked, glancing over with amusement.
“Nah, I got it,” I grunted, sweat already forming on my brow.
Ten minutes later, I was swearing under my breath, one pole stubbornly refusing to cooperate.
“You sure?” Alison teased.
“Okay, fine. Maybe a little help.”
Together, we managed to get the tent up—though it leaned slightly to the left like a drunkard propped against a lamppost.
Then came the sleeping arrangements.
I unrolled the sleeping bags… and froze.
“Uh, Alison?” I held up the single sleeping bag. “I think there’s been a slight… oversight.”
She blinked at it, then back at me. “You’re kidding.”
“Afraid not.” I rummaged through the car again. Nothing. “Looks like we’re sharing.”
A faint blush crept up her neck. “Oh.”
“We can drive back and grab another one,” I offered, though the thought of another two-hour round trip made my soul wither.
“No, no, it’s fine,” she said quickly. “We’ll make it work.”
I nodded, trying to ignore the sudden awareness of how close this trip was about to get.
The rest of the afternoon passed in a blur of firewood gathering and camp setup, the unspoken sleeping bag situation lingering in the air.
By evening, I had a fire roaring, Alison cooked hot dogs and beans, and we ate in comfortable silence, the crackling flames between us. I even cracked open a couple of beers.
“Thanks for bringing me out here, Dad,” Alison said softly, staring into the fire.
“Wouldn’t miss it,” I replied, meaning it.
We talked for hours—about college, her dreams, my past mistakes. The conversation flowed easily, helped along by a bottle of wine. Or maybe two. (Okay, fine, it was three.)
A few hours later, we were both undeniably drunk, giggling at stupid jokes and slurring our words.
“I love you, Dad,” Alison mumbled, leaning against my shoulder.
“Love you too, kid,” I said, ruffling her hair.
Finally, exhaustion won out.
“Alright, bedtime,” I announced, swaying slightly as I stood.
We stumbled toward the tent, the darkness inside thick and warm.
“Ladies first,” I said, gesturing grandly.
Alison disappeared inside, the rustle of fabric following. I took a deep breath, stripped down to my boxers and an old vest, and crawled in after her.
She was already in the sleeping bag, wearing an oversized t-shirt and—presumably—not much else. The sight of her, bathed in the faint glow of the dying fire, sent an unexpected jolt through me.
“This is gonna be… cosy,” I muttered, trying to sound casual.
She giggled. “That’s one word for it.”
I slid in beside her. The bag was way smaller than I’d thought. Our bodies pressed together, shoulders touching, legs tangled.
And then—because physics is cruel—we had to turn sideways, my front against her back, my arm draped over her waist just to fit.
“Comfy?” Alison asked, her voice slightly breathless.
“Oh yeah,” I lied. “Peak comfort.”
I started to get hard against her ass… No please.
“I… am so drunk sweetie,” I said as he was spooned up tight against her. Shit I was getting hard.
“Me to Daddy, is that a gun or you happy to see me.” She giggled giddy and drunk wriggled her ass against my cock.
“Ahh don’t tease your old man honey, otherwise…” I stopped myself.
“Otherwise… what, Dad?” she whispered, her voice husky and laced with playful challenge.
Her playful tone sent a shiver down my spine. The combination of alcohol, proximity, and… well, the undeniable fact that I hadn’t been this close to a woman in a decade, was doing a number on me. My body was reacting in ways I hadn’t anticipated.
“Otherwise… I might not be able to control myself,” I murmured, regretting the words as soon as they left my lips. What was I doing? This was my daughter.
“Control yourself how, Dad?” she breathed, the question a wisp of warm air against my skin. Her voice was softer now, the playful edge replaced by something else… curiosity? Or something more dangerous?
My heart hammered against my ribs. The blood roared in my ears. I knew I should shut this down. End it immediately. But the truth was, a part of me, a dark, long-dormant part, was relishing this. I was teetering on the edge of an abyss, and the view was… intoxicating.
“I… I don’t know,” I stammered, trying to pull away, to create some distance, any distance. But the confines of the sleeping bag, the tent itself, trapped us together. “Forget I said anything. Let’s just… try to sleep.”
But Alison didn’t move. Instead, she shifted slightly, pressing her back more firmly against me. I could feel the curve of her spine, the soft roundness of her rear against my groin. And yes, my erection was undeniable now, a hard, throbbing reminder of my long-neglected desires.
“Dad,” she whispered, her voice barely audible. “Are you… are you hard?”
I closed my eyes, shame washing over me in waves. “Alison, I… shit… I am sorry. Just been 10 years since, you know.”
Instead, after what felt like an eternity, she whispered, “Ten years? Really?”
The surprise in her voice threw me. Was she… pitying me? “Yeah,” I mumbled, my voice hoarse. “A long time.”
“Wow,” she said softly. “That’s… that’s a really long time. I had sex last week, 10 years is way to long. Is that why you are horny.”
I stroked her belly under her T shirt, “Oh last week, I hope he treat he nice and not used you.”
“He was okay,” she shrugged, her voice nonchalant. “But he wasn’t… I don’t know… exciting.”
I giggled, “bless you honey, you need a man who knows what he’s doing.”
“Exactly,” she whispered, wriggling her butt more deliberately against my groin. “Someone who knows how to… please a woman.”
I moaned, “Oh sweetheart. Don’t… don’t do that against my…” She cute me off.
“Against your what, Dad?” she purred, her voice a silky whisper against my ear. “Against your hard-on?”
I couldn’t take it anymore, I slid her knickers down and got my cock out. I lifted her leg up a little to get access to her pussy, so I could put my cock inside her. As the head of my cock pressed against her labia as I pushed forward and sank it deep inside of her.
I gasped. She was tight, wet, and hotter than I ever could have imagined. It had been so long, and the sensation was overwhelming. I gripped her hips, holding her in place as I began to move, slowly at first, testing the waters.
“Oh, Dad,” she moaned, her head falling back against my shoulder. “That feels… really good.”
The words were like a shot of adrenaline. I picked up the pace, my movements becoming more insistent, more demanding. Her ass slapped against my hips with each thrust, the sound echoing in the small space of the tent. It was primal, raw, and utterly intoxicating.
“Yeah?” I grunted, my voice thick with lust. “Does that feel good?”
“Yes,” she gasped, her fingers digging into my back. “Harder, Dad. Please, harder.”
“Your pussy feels good sweetie,” I pounded her as he ass cheeks rattled off of my belly as I fucked her.
“Oh god, Daddy!” Alison cried out, her voice echoing in the tent as I slammed into her. “You’re so big! I’ve never felt anything like this before!”
She arched her back, pressing herself against me, her hands gripping the sleeping bag beneath us. I could feel her walls tightening around my cock, her body responding to every thrust with a shuddering gasp.
“That’s it, baby,” I grunted, my hips moving in a steady rhythm with my hand up her top squeezing her tits through her bra. “Take Daddy’s cock. Your so sexy honey… ahh yeah you feel so good. I shouldn’t be… be doing this.”
She just moaned and moaned, “Ju-just keep going daddy… ahhh my pussy… your… your so deep. Bang me hard… ahhh yes… my pussy oh fuck my pussy hole.”
Omg her dirty talking made me fuck her harder. Alison moaned loudly as I pounded into her, her body shaking with each thrust.
“Daddy, yes!” Alison cried out, her voice filled with pleasure and desperation. “Harder! Fuck me harder!” I gripped her hips tightly, my fingers digging into her soft flesh as I slammed into her with all my strength.
I felt her tight pussy squeeze my cock as she came hard, her juices dripping down my shaft. “Oh fuck Alison!” I moaned, feeling my own orgasm building. “I’m gonna… gonna cum inside you!” I buried my face in her neck, biting down gently as I exploded, shooting thick robes of cum inside her pussy.
“Wow,” Alison whispered, her voice barely audible. “That was… intense.”
I nodded, still trying to catch my breath. “Yeah. Yeah, it was. You got a nice pussy.”
Alison giggled softly, still basking in the afterglow. “Thanks, Dad. I’m glad you liked it.”
I pulled out of her and laid down beside her, pulling her close. “You okay sweetheart?” I asked, concern in my voice. “That was… a lot. We shouldn’t have done that, but it felt so good. I’m sorry.” I kissed her forehead gently.
“Mmmm… Let’s just… let’s just get some sleep. We can talk about this in the morning when we’re sober and clear headed.” I wrapped my arm around her and pulled her close, holding her tight as we drifted off to sleep.
The next morning, I woke up to the sound of birds chirping outside the tent. For a moment, I lay there, disoriented, trying to remember where I was. Then it all came rushing back— the camping trip, the wine, the… other things. I froze, my arm still wrapped around Alison’s sleeping form. Her knickers were still half down, I pulled them up for her before I was tempted to go at her again.
I slowly sat up, trying not to wake her, and glanced around the tent. The sleeping bag was a mess, tangled around our legs. I carefully extracted myself, wincing as I stretched out my stiff muscles. Ineeded coffee. And a cold shower. And maybe a time machine to go back and undo last night.
I unzipped the tent and stepped outside, squinting against the morning sun. The campsite was quiet, the air crisp and cool. I made my way to the cooler, grabbing a bottle of water and downing it in one go. Then I spotted the coffee maker, a small mercy in this wilderness hell. I plugged it up to the generator.
As I waited for the coffee to brew, I leaned against a tree, staring at nothing. What the hell had I been thinking? Sure, it had felt good—amazing, even—but that was beside the point. Alison was my daughter. I’d crossed a line that couldn’t be uncrossed.
Then she came out of the tent.
Alison emerged from the tent, her blonde hair a tangled mess, her yellow tank top wrinkled. She stretched, her arms reaching towards the sky, her shorts riding up to reveal the smooth skin of her thighs. She spotted me leaning against the tree and gave me a small smile. “Morning, Dad.”
I forced a smile, trying to act normal. “Morning. Coffee’s almost ready.”
She nodded, walking over to me. “About last night…” shestarted, her voice hesitant. I tensed, bracing myself for the inevitable lecture, the disappointment, the anger.”Yeah?” I asked, my voice barely above a whisper.
Alison sighed, running a hand through her hair. “It was… really good, Dad. Like, really good.”
I blinked, surprised. That wasn’t what I’d been expecting. “Oh. Okay. Breakfast.”
She looked at my crotch, “Mmmm sausage please.”
I chuckled, “Well, I do make a mean sausage.” I winked at her, grabbing the coffee pot and pouring us each a cup. “But maybe we should focus on real breakfast for now. Eggs and bacon sound good?”
Alison smirked, “Sounds perfect. And maybe later we can revisit the… other menu.”