It was Friday night, and the house was buzzing. The whole family was over for a party. I’m Ella, 18, still living with my mum and dad until I can afford my own place. Lately, things between them had been tense. They were in the process of getting a divorce, and it broke my heart. They used to be so in love, but now they barely spoke. My mum, Lisa, was beautiful—curvy, just like me. We looked so alike, people often thought we were twins.
The house was alive with noise. Everyone was drinking, laughing, and eating pizza. My Dad’s called Gary, he was in the corner, deep in conversation with his brothers, my uncles. Mum was outside, smoking a cigarette, her long dark hair catching the breeze. I stood by the kitchen counter, pouring myself another drink. The party was supposed to be fun, but all I felt was sadness. Seeing my parents like this—distant, broken—was crushing.
Mum walked in, her heels clicking on the floor. She looked at me, her eyes soft but tired.
“Hey, Ella baby,” she said, her voice low. “Listen… I’m going out. I’ll be back tomorrow.”
I froze, the glass in my hand trembling.
“Wait… where are you going?” I asked, my voice shaky.
She sighed, running a hand through her hair.
“Don’t worry about me, honey. Just enjoy yourself, okay?”
I couldn’t help it. My eyes welled up.
“But it’s Friday night. We’re supposed to be together as a family. Where are you going?”
She gave me a sad smile, her hand brushing my cheek.
“Trust me, Ella. It’s for the best. I’ll be back tomorrow. Take care of your dad for me.”
I nodded, swallowing the lump in my throat.
“Okay, Mum. Be safe. I love you.”
“I love you too, baby girl,” she said, hugging me tightly before walking out the door.
The party dragged on. I kept glancing at the clock, wondering where she was, who she was with. Dad seemed oblivious, laughing with his brothers like nothing was wrong. By midnight, I was tipsy and exhausted. I excused myself and headed upstairs to my room.
When I opened the door, I froze. Uncle Tom and Aunt Betty were asleep in my bed. Dad had been sleeping on the couch lately, so I quietly shut the door and tiptoed to Mum’s room.
I closed the door behind me and sighed. The room smelled like her—vanilla and lavender. I didn’t want to go back to my room and disturb them, so I decided to borrow one of Mum’s nighties. I stripped off my clothes and slipped into the soft, silky fabric. It felt cool against my skin and smelled like her. I climbed into her bed, pulling the covers up to my chin.
Just as I was starting to drift off, I heard the toilet flush. My heart skipped a beat. Was Mum back?
The door creaked open, and I heard a manly burp, followed by mumbling. Coins clinked as they hit the floor, and a muttered “fuck’s sake” followed. It was Dad.
I stayed still, lying on my side facing the window, pretending to be asleep. The bed dipped as he climbed in, and I felt his arm drape over my waist. He let out a shaky sigh, his breath warm on my neck.
“Lisa,” he whispered, his voice thick with emotion. “For one night, please let me cuddle up. I miss you. I miss us.”
My heart ached. He thought I was Mum. A tear slipped down my cheek as I listened to him, his voice breaking. I didn’t say anything. I just lay there, letting him pour his heart out. His arm tightened around me, and I could feel the weight of his sadness.
I stayed quiet, pretending to sleep, letting him have this moment. It was all I could do.
I lay there, frozen, as Dad’s breathing slowed. His arm was still around me, heavy and warm. My mind raced. Should I say something? Should I tell him it was me, not Mum? But the way his voice had cracked, the way he’d whispered her name—it felt too raw, too private to interrupt. So I stayed silent, my heart pounding in my chest.
I felt his hand shift as he stroked my thigh, and slowly up my nightie. In that charged silence, where the room was a mere whisper away from the chaos downstairs, the air thick with the scent of Mum’s perfume and Dad’s liquor-laden breath, I dared not move an inch. I knew the consequences of speaking up, of shattering this fragile illusion.
“I wish, we were back to normal,” he sobbed behind me as he sunk his face into my back in tears. His hand was now resting on my knickers, as he slowly rubbed between my legs.
“Please, if we are going our separate ways, let me have one more night of sex with you,” that’s when I felt his fingers on the waistband of my knickers as he dragged them down. He pulled them halfway down, as we were in the spooning position.
I froze, oh fuck what do I do, I should say something, but what. I didn’t because surely he wouldn’t. Would he. But he thinks I am mum so omg would he.
That is when I felt his thingy pressing against my rear pussy, oh my he his. Then he pushed his cock right up my pussy. He held my hips as I still laid facing away from him as he pumped in and out of me.
“Ahh Lisa, your pussy feels so different, been a while since we have had sex,” he said between moans as he pumped away at me.
I couldn’t believe it. My own father was inside me, thinking I was my mother. I should’ve said something, stopped him, but if this is what he needed, then I couldn’t take it away from him. His cock throbbed inside me, stretching me in ways I’d never felt before. He gripped my hips tight, his fingers digging into my skin as he thrust deeper.
“Oh fuck, Lisa,” he grunted, his breath hot on my neck. “I’ve missed this pussy. Missed being inside you so damn much ungh take my cock.”
I put my hand over my mouth as he just kept on pounding a way at me, my ass clapping loudly against him.
I whimpered, biting my lip hard to keep quiet. I couldn’t let him know it was me, not Mum. If I spoke, everything would shatter. He’d pull out, and the illusion would break. So I stayed silent, letting him use me, letting him have this moment of closeness before their divorce tore us all apart. His hands slid up my body, groping my breasts through the thin nightie. He squeezed them roughly, his thumbs rubbing my nipples into stiff peaks. I could feel his balls slapping against my ass with each powerful thrust, the obscene noises filling the room.
“Fuck, I forgot how good this feels,” he grunted, his hips snapping faster.
I had to put my hand over my mouth as to stifle my moans as Dad’s cock pumped into my now wet pussy. I have had plenty of dick before, but this was different, my dads felt big. It was fairly dark in the room not too dark.
I felt him pull out, I thought he’d been to tired to finish, but oh no. He rolled me onto my back as he got on top of me as he slipped his dick back inside. He was drunk and the darkness hid my face.
“God, Lisa,” Dad panted, his eyes glazed with lust and alcohol. “I’ve missed this so fucking much. Missed being buried inside your tight little cunt.” He thrust into me harder, his heavy balls slapping against my ass. I bit my lip hard, stifling a moan. His cock was stretching me so deep, hitting places I’d never felt before. I couldn’t believe this was happening, that my own father was fucking me, thinking I was Mum.
He gripped my thighs, spreading my legs wider as he drove into me. The bed creaked with each powerful thrust, the headboard banging against the wall. I could barely breathe, overwhelmed by the intensity of it all. His hands roamed my body, squeezing and kneading every curve. “Fuck, your pussy feels so good,” he grunted, his hips never stopping. “So tight and wet. You always knew how to take my cock so well, baby.”
Tears pricked my eyes. He thought I was Mum, his wife, the love of his life. And here I was, letting him use me, letting him have this final moment of closeness before everything fell apart. It wasn’t is fault, he didn’t know it was me I didn’t blame him.
Dad’s hands found my breasts, his calloused fingers pinching and rolling my nipples as he hilted himself inside me again and again. He couldn’t seem to get enough, his movements desperate and hungry.
“Fuck, you feel amazing,” he growled, the low, rough grunt vibrating against my skin.
His rhythm became erratic, and I felt him swell inside me, a tell tale sign he was nearing his limit. I squeezed my eyes shut, feeling another wave of guilt and pleasure crash over me as he groaned loudly, “I’m going to cum, Lisa—oh fuck, your cunt is going to make me cum so fucking hard.” He began to shudder, his cock throbbing violently as he released inside me. I could feel the hot spurts filling me, pulsing with his climax.
A long, drawn-out “Ahhhhh Fuck,” escaped him as he pumped harder and harder shooting load after load in and I couldn’t help but quiver with the sensation, my own body betraying me as it clenched around his pulsing cock, milking his release with involuntary tightness.
“Fuck, Lisa I hope Ella didn’t hear us,” Dad gasped, collapsing on top of me, his chest heaving against my back, his heart pounding against mine. “That was… needed fuck its been months since I came oh fuck that was good.”
He pulled out of me and laid beside me, he eventually fell asleep. I sneaked out of bed and went down stairs. The party had died down and bodies everywhere of family members asleep. I grabbed dads car keys and went into the garage and got in the back of the car to try get some sleep.
Morning light filtered into the garage, and as I sat up from the back seat, crumpled nightie clinging to my skin, I felt the ache between my thighs—Dad’s lingering presence. I knew I had to wash away the evidence, the scent of him, before anyone woke.
I crept back into the silent house, avoiding the sprawled figures on the floor, my eyes searching for a quick escape to the bathroom. The water from the shower ran hot, washing away the night’s wrongness, yet the feeling of his rough hands, the fullness of his cock, stayed with me. The guilt swelled like a tide, crashing over my naked form under the spray. I scrubbed, hard, trying to erase the memory, but it clung, like a stain.
Dad still lay tangled in Mum’s sheets when I peeked in. His chest rose gently, oblivious to the world. I couldn’t stay here, not now, not after what we’d shared. I dressed quickly, in my own clothes, and grabbed a coat, slipping out unnoticed.
The air outside was crisp, a relief as I walked to the corner shop, needing space and fresh air. The cold nipped at my cheeks, but it was nothing compared to the chill in my heart. I bought a coffee, strong and bitter, and sat on a bench, watching people start their day. Normal people, with normal lives.
I sat there thinking, I should have told him it was me. I had to keep this a secret and not tell him. I really don’t blame him, it was not his fault.
A few weeks later I woke up running to the bathroom about to be sick. I leaned over the porcelain bowl, gripping its edges as my stomach heaved, the memory of that night flooding back. Clinging to the thought that the guilt and the shame were making me ill. The door creaked behind me, Dad’s voice, laced with concern, filled the small space. “Ella? You alright, love?”
I flinched, wiping my mouth, the taste of bile lingering. “Yeah, Dad, just a bug or something,” I lied, standing up on shaky legs.
“Well honey you should get checked out, be careful ok,” he said as he went downstairs.
I nodded, forcing a weak smile, meeting his eyes for a fleeting moment. “I will, Dad. Thanks.” I could see the worry creasing his brow, none the wiser about the secret I carried like a boulder in my gut.
One day, in the stark light of our quiet kitchen, I held the pregnancy test between trembling fingers. The result was clear, unambiguous—two pink lines stared back like an accusation. Panic clawed at my throat as I stood there, the world spinning. My mind raced, disbelieving, disgusted. It was Dad’s, it had to be. The only one who’d been inside me recently.
Later that day when mum went to bed dad was asleep on the couch and I was in the kitchen getting a glass of milk. I walked back into the room, dad stirred.
I sighed, “Dad, are you awake.”
Dad blinked, his eyes adjusting to the dim light, catching sight of me standing there, my figure outlined in the doorway. “Ella? You okay, love?” His voice was groggy, concern etched into it, as he propped himself up on an elbow.
I swallowed hard, my heart racing a thousand miles a minute. “Dad, we need to talk. About… something important. “My voice wavered, barely a whisper against the silence. He sat up, rubbing his eyes, the night’s events still on his breath. “What is it, sweetheart? You look pale.”
I sat down beside him, the kitchen chair creaking under me. “I… I’ve got something to tell you. Do you remember that night at the party few weeks ago. You was having sex with mum when you were drunk.”
“How did you know what me and your mum was doing,” he looked embarrassed.
“I know because it wasn’t mum you was pounding like an animal,” I said as I braced myself for the inevitable shock and disgust. My voice steadied, though my hands shook. “Dad, it was me in Mum’s bed that night. I’m so sorry, I… I didn’t stop you.”
Dad’s face went slack, the colour draining from it, his eyes widening in horror. “Ella, no… Christ, no. That can’t be right,” he stammered, his voice breaking like brittle wood. “You’re telling me I… with my own daughter?”
I nodded, swallowing the lump in my throat, the confession burning like acid. “Yes, Dad. But you didn’t know, I stayed silent. I couldn’t bring myself to stop you; it was so raw, so private. And now—” My gaze fell to my stomach, and his eyes followed.
His hands covered his face, a mix of anguish and disbelief twisting his features. “Oh fuck, Ella. This can’t be happening. Are you…are you saying what I think? Wait no it was your mum, you got this wrong.”
I threw him my pregnancy test, “look dad, you was really going at me that night so I am not surprised that am pregnant. I mean you really went at me.”
His eyes dropped to the test in his hands, the pink lines, a stark confession, the night’s truth laid bare in its simplicity. He looked up, his face a mask of shock and realization, the lines deepening around his eyes. “Ella, my God…,” he whispered, his voice cracking under the weight of the revelation. “How could this happen? We…I thought… I thought it was your mother.”
“I know, Dad. I know,” I affirmed, my voice barely above a whisper, the shame heavy between us. “But it was dark, and you were… you were desperate, and I couldn’t bring myself to say anything.”
“I’m scared, Dad,” I confessed, my voice cracking as I fought back tears. “But I don’t blame you; you were lost in grief and drink. I couldn’t take away the last bit of closeness you thought you had with Mum. But the scariest part I really enjoyed it, I mean god am saying this I can’t stop thinking about the way you pounded me into the bed.”
He took my hand, squeezing it, the grip desperate. “We’ll figure it out. Together, okay? No matter what, you’re my daughter, and I’ll support you, love. Always.”
6 months later mum was no longer at home and was with her new boyfriend. One night while watching tv with I started to get horn, real horny.
“Dad when mum was carrying me when she was pregnant did she, you know get urges,” I said as I watched him closely, my cheeks flushing with an audacious question hanging between us. In the dim glow of the television, his face showed a mix of surprise and the dawning realization of where this was leading.
He shifted, clearing his throat, trying to find the right words. “Yeah, Ella… your mum, she did sometimes; pregnancy can stir up certain… urges.” His voice trailed off, understanding dawning on him that this was no casual inquiry.
I inched closer, the TV’s flickering light highlighting the soft curve of my belly, now swollen with his child. “I’m feeling that now,” I admitted, my eyes locking onto his, a silent plea for understanding, for something more. He glanced at my stomach, then back at my eyes, the air thick with unsaid words.
“Ella, love, we can’t… we shouldn’t talk about this ,”he warned, his voice a ragged whisper, but beneath the words, the hunger was unmistakable.
I leaned in, my breath mingling with his. “I know, Dad, but I’m so bloody horny, and it’s your fault,” I confessed, my hand moving to his, guiding it to my thigh. “It’s been months since… since that night, and I can’t stop thinking about it—about you. About how you made me feel.”
His hand tightened on my thigh, a low, rough grunt escaping him as he resisted the pull of temptation. “Ella, this is wrong. But fuck, I can’t deny I’ve thought about it too,” he admitted, his thumb tracing the hem of my knickers, his eyes darkening with desire.
“Take my knickers off then and do me right her on the couch,” I can’t believe I just said that to him. I mean I am carrying his child we may as well go all out on this journey.
Dad’s eyes flared with a primal need, the struggle evident in his gaze, but his hands betrayed him as they trembled, moving to obey my brazen command. The room was thick with tension, the television casting an eerie glow on our forbidden desire. With a delicate tug, he peeled my knickers down, exposing me to the cool air. I shifted, opening my legs slightly, inviting, needing.
He let out a breath, ragged and raw, as he drank in the sight of me, his daughter, swollen with his child, now so vulnerable before him. His hand traced the curve of my swollen belly, then lower, finding my pregnant chubby pussy, already slick with arousal.
“Ella, you’re soaked,” he murmured, his finger parting my labia, a filthy noise escaping me as I leaned into his touch.
“I want you, Dad,” I whispered, my voice a needy moan. “I need you to fill me, like you did that night.” His resolve crumbled, and with a swift motion, he freed his hard cock, the weight of it pressing against my entrance. A shiver ran through me as he teased me, my body yearning for the invasion.
“You’re sure, love?” he asked, his voice strained. “Positive,” I breathed, arching into him, urging him on. He didn’t need more encouragement. With a firm nudge, he was inside me, my pussy stretching to accommodate his girth. I stifled a cry, the sudden fullness overwhelming, the squelch of our connection almost drowned out by the TV’s hum.
My hands clutched at the couch, holding on as he began to pump into me, the rhythm slow and deliberate. “Fuck, Ella,” he groaned, the words a low rumble. “You’re so wet, so ready for me god you feel good. Damn we shouldn’t be fucking.”
“Shh dad… ahh keep going, at least this time, you know it is me. Be careful of my baby bump, maybe we should do it doggystyle,” I said as he pulled out again and got me on all fours.
Dadcame up behind me, his large hands supporting my hips with care, mindful of our growing child. He positioned himself, the head of his cock teasing my slick entrance, the anticipation making me shiver.
“Easy, love,” he whispered, one hand caressing my backside while the other guided himself in. He slid into me with a deliberate slowness that belied the urgency in his touch, filling me inch by agonizing inch.
“Oh my God, Dad…” I moaned, my back arching, the sensation both familiar and forbidden.
“I’ll go slow,” he promised, his voice a guttural whisper, as his hips began to move. His thrusts were deep, each one sending waves of pleasure through me, the pressure in my fanny incredibly intense from his thick cock. I pushed back against him, seeking more, the sound of skin slapping skin mingling with the muffled TV.
“You feel so bloody good,” he groaned, gripping my thighs, “So tight, even more than before.” His rhythm picked up, the couch creaking under us, the obscene squelch of our union echoing in the quiet room.
I could sense his restraint, the care he took not to jostle my belly, yet his need was primal, undeniable. My breath came in ragged gasps, each thrust sending me closer to the edge. “Harder, Dad, please—I need it,” I begged, pushing back against him, needing the full force of his desire.
His control snapped with my desperate plea, and Dad’s pace quickened, his hips driving into me with a primal ferocity.”Ungh, fuck, Ella,” he grunted, his hands clenching as he pounded my fanny, the sound of slick flesh a lewd symphony in the dim room. I braced myself against the couch, the soft cushions muffling my cries, his balls slapping against me with each forceful push. “Your pussy’s gripping me so tight, oh fuck,” he strained, the slap of his skin against my swollen flesh a rhythmic beat. “I can’t hold back much longer, love.”
I whimpered, feeling the coil of pleasure tightening within me, my body betraying my mind’s tumult of emotions.”Don’t hold back, Dad.I want to feel you…all of you.”
His breath hitched, a desperate, filthy noise escaping him as he let go, his cock pulsing inside me, filling me once more with his hot cum.
“Ella!” he gasped, his hips stuttering, the climax ripping through him as he came deep within my fanny. He collapsed against my back, his chest heaving against the swell of my belly, the child between us a silent witness to our taboo act. We caught our breaths, the aftermath heavy and charged.
He pulled out slowly, a soft groan escaping me as he did, the sticky evidence of his release trickling down my thighs. Dad turned me gently, concern etched on his face. “Are you alright? Did I hurt you or the baby?”
I shook my head, a mix of shame and satisfaction washing over me. “No, Dad. You were perfect,” I whispered, resting my forehead against his, our breathing synchronizing.
“I was thinking, maybe we should move before the baby is born. I… I don’t know if this is a good idea, but I know am your daughter. What if we, you know became a couple.” I said it, shit what was I thinking.
“Say something dad or should I start calling you Gary. We can become very close, plus I am not like mum you can have all the sex you want. But when the baby is born maybe start putting something on the end of it.”
“Well, it is wrong but so is having sex with you, which we done twice now,” he said while putting his cock away. “Let’s say we did then how would we go about it, like we would have to move away like another country.”
I leaned into him, “Well, I mean it. I want you to be a good dad to our baby. Let’s start with this.” I said as I gently put my lips on his and we kissed for a few minutes.
“You sure,” he said cupping my cheeks.
“I am 100% sure, so should I start calling you Gary, because if we are going to do this I can’t keep calling you Dad. Especially when we are fucking,” I said as I reached for my drink.
“Ella, I… I want to be there for you, for our child. If it’s what you truly want, we can try, but we’ll have to be careful, consider the consequences, the world outside. We move away, start fresh where no one knows us.” I squeezed his hand, heart in my throat.
“I want that, Gary. To be with you, to have a family, our family. To hell with what’s right or wrong—we’ll make our own rules.”
He pulled me close, his voice a murmur against my ear. “Then let’s plan, love. Let’s find a place where we can be us, without shame, without fear. Where our child grows up loved, not judged.”
The TV cast shadows as we sat entwined, the couch a silent witness to our pact. Gary’s hand caressed my belly, a promise unspoken but deeply felt. “We’ll find a way, Ella. Together.”