The old minivan rattled down the dirt road. Another family camping trip. My name’s Brian. I was driving, Susan, my wife, was riding shotgun. In the back, Kelly, our eighteen-year-old daughter, was quiet. Too quiet. Ryan, our son, twenty, had his headphones on, staring out the window.
“Almost there,” Susan said, more to herself than us.
We were here because of Kelly. She’d been different lately. Distant. Her phone was always on, then suddenly it was hidden. Her eyes looked tired. We thought some fresh air might do her good. Get her away from… whatever it was.
It had been Susan’s idea. A few days earlier, after a particularly tense dinner, she’d talked about it. “We need to do something, Brian. Get her out of the city.”
I agreed. Anything to break the silence.
Then, Tuesday, I’d walked in on something ugly. I’d just got home from work. The door was open a crack, and I heard voices. Susan’s voice, sharp and hard.
I stopped, listening.
“It isn’t okay, Kelly,” Susan was saying, her voice low but full of anger. “To act like some cheap slut.”
My stomach dropped. I pushed the door open the rest of the way. Kelly was crying, her face red. Susan just stood there, arms crossed. Neither of them even looked at me.
“What’s going on?” I asked, but they were already done. Susan just walked away. Kelly ran to her room and slammed the door. That’s when the camping trip really became a firm plan. We needed a reset.
Now, here we were. We set up the tents as the sun started to dip. Ryan was good with the poles, strong and quick. Kelly just sat on a log, picking at her fingernails. Susan bossed us around, telling Ryan to pull the guy lines tighter, telling me I’d put the rainfly on backward. The air was thick. Not just with pine scent, but with unspoken words.
Later, the stars were out. It was dark, really dark. We were all in our separate tents. Ryan and Kelly had their own. Susan and I were in ours. I could hear crickets chirping outside. The air was cool, biting even.
I was restless. It had been weeks, maybe months. Susan and I, we just hadn’t been… close. I missed it. I missed her.
I rolled over in the sleeping bag. Susan was beside me, her back turned. I reached for her, my hand finding her hip. I let it rest there for a moment, then moved it slowly up her side. I felt the soft curve of her breast. I squeezed gently.
She sighed. A quiet sound, but I heard it.
“Brian,” she whispered, her voice tired. “What are you doing?”
My hand lingered, wanting more. I was hard already, a rock against my thigh.
“Just… you know,” I mumbled back. “Come on, Susan.”
She pushed my hand away. Gently, but firmly. “Not tonight.”
I pulled my hand back. It was a punch to the gut. “Susan, please. It’s been so long. Too long.”
She shifted, rolling over a little, but not facing me. “Can you stop thinking about your dick for two minutes?” Her voice was barely a whisper, but it stung.
“What?” I sat up, bumping my head on the tent roof. My voice was louder now. “What is wrong with you? We haven’t had sex in ages! What’s going on?”
She didn’t answer right away. Just breathed heavily.
“Fine,” I said, pulling the zipper of the tent down. “I’m going for a piss.”
“Whatever,” she said. Her voice was flat.
I crawled out in just my boxer shorts, feeling the cold air on my skin. The stars were bright. Too bright. I walked a little way from the tent, looked up at them. My chest felt tight. I just wanted things to be normal again. But normal felt very far away.
I walked into the distance near a tree and took out my cock and started piss. I heard Kelly’s voice, “what you doing dad.”
I froze, my piss mid-stream. Kelly. What was she doing out here? I zipped up quickly, feeling a mix of embarrassment. I can’t believe my daughter saw my cock. As I turned to her she was in her silky night gown. The cold air made her nipples press against the fabric. She should be wearing a bra, the neckline was way to low and her tits looked great. No I shouldn’t be looking and shit she saw me looking.
My heart hammered. I fumbled with my zipper, pulling it up all the way, feeling the cold metal against my shaky fingers. “Kelly? What are you doing out here?” My voice came out rougher than I intended.
She took a step closer, her bare feet silent on the pine needles. The moonlight caught her hair, making it shine. Her eyes, usually so shadowed lately, seemed wide and curious.
“I couldn’t sleep,” she said, her voice soft, a stark contrast to her mother’s. “I heard you leave.” She paused, then her gaze flickered down. “I… I didn’t know you were… doing that.”
I felt a flush creep up my neck. “Yeah, well. A man’s gotta do what a man’s gotta do.” I tried to sound casual, but my voice still cracked a little. I folded my arms over my chest, as if that would somehow hide the earlier view.
She giggled. A real giggle. It had been weeks since I’d heard her laugh like that. It was a strange sound, both innocent and… something else. “It’s cold out here, Dad. You shouldn’t be out without a shirt.”
My breath hitched. She was right. The cold was biting, raising goosebumps on my arms, but it was another kind of chill that settled in my gut. I looked at her, standing there in the moonlight, her nightgown clinging. Her comment, simple as it was, felt like she was pointing out more than just the temperature.
“I’m fine,” I managed, trying to sound gruff, pulling my arms tighter across my chest. My eyes were drawn, against my will, to the dark shadows the thin fabric created. I cleared my throat. “You should be inside, Kelly. It’s late.”
She didn’t move. Instead, she took another step closer. “I told you, I can’t sleep. Everything’s… quiet. Too quiet.” Her voice was soft, almost a whisper, and had a strange, dreamy quality. She looked up at the stars, then back at me. “Mom’s really mad, isn’t she?”
The sudden shift to her mother caught me off guard. The tension had been building, pulling me in a different direction. It was like a splash of cold water. “Your mom’s just… stressed,” I said, trying to diffuse the situation, both the one with Susan and the one currently unfolding between us. “We all are.”
Kelly scoffed, a short, bitter sound. “Worried? Or just trying to control me?” She hugged herself, her gaze dropping to her bare feet. “She thinks she knows everything. She thinks I’m doing something wrong.”
“Are you?” The question slipped out before I could stop it. It was stupid, I knew, playing right into the tension.
She looked up, a faint, almost mischievous smile playing on her lips. “Maybe. Maybe not.” Her eyes flickered, meeting mine for a beat too long. “What if I am, Dad? What then? Are you going to call me a cheap slut to just because I like sex.”
My throat went dry. The words hung in the cold air, stinging worse than Susan’s ever had. “What? No! Kelly, that’s… that’s not what I’m saying.” I stumbled over my words, my mind racing. She likes sex? What is she even talking about? Fuck, the words made me hard again. I haven’t had a good hard shag in months.
I swallowed, trying to clear the lump forming in my throat. “Look, Kelly, your mom… she was upset. We’re all upset right now. That kind of talk, it’s not right, no matter who says it.” I took a step back, trying to put some distance between us, trying to find my footing. This wasn’t a conversation I was equipped for, especially not out here, in the dark, with her looking like that.
She didn’t move, her eyes still on mine, unwavering. “But it’s true, isn’t it?” Her voice was softer now, almost fragile, but there was a sharp edge beneath it. “That’s what she thinks of me. And you heard her. You didn’t say anything.”
My chest tightened. She was right. I hadn’t said anything. I’d walked away, let it fester. “I… I was shocked,” I admitted, the words tasting like ash. “I didn’t know what to say.”
Kelly gave a humourless laugh. “Yeah, that’s Dad. Always shocked. Always quiet.” She shivered, hugging herself tighter, but still not breaking eye contact. “It’s cold. Why are you just standing out here?”
The question was innocent, but the way she looked at me, her gaze sweeping subtly over my bare chest and then lower, made my blood run cold and hot at the same time. She knew. She had to. Or maybe I was just projecting my own shame and desire onto her.
“I told you, I was pissing,” I mumbled, feeling like a teenager caught doing something wrong. “I’m heading back in. You should too.”
She didn’t budge, she looked down at my hard on in my boxers. “What if I don’t want to go back to my tent? What if I needed to… be tired out. Would… would you help tire me out.”
My heart pounded in my chest. Was Kelly flirting with me? Or was this some sort of twisted revenge for my lack of support earlier? I didn’t know, but I couldn’t deny the effect her words were having on me. My cock throbbed painfully against the fabric of my boxers, and I shifted uncomfortably, trying to adjust myself without drawing attention to it.
“Kelly, that’s… that’s not what I meant,” I stammered, my mind racing. “You’re my daughter. We can’t… we shouldn’t…” My voice trailed off as I realized how weak my protests sounded.
She took another step closer, her eyes never leaving mine. “But why not, Dad? You’re a man, and I’m a woman. We’re both adults. And I’m tired of being treated like a child.” Her voice was low and husky, and it sent shivers down my spine.
I swallowed hard, trying to find the right words. “It’s… it’s not right, Kelly. It’s not how things are supposed to be.”
She laughed softly, a sound that sent a jolt of electricity straight to my groin. “Who says what’s right and wrong, Dad? Who made those rules?” She reached out and placed her hand on my chest, her fingers tracing the contours of my muscles.
I sucked in a sharp breath, feeling a wave of desire wash over me. I knew I should push her away, tell her to go back to her tent, but I couldn’t bring myself to do it. Instead, I stood there, frozen, as she slowly slid her hand down my chest and stomach, stopping just above the waistband of my boxers.
“Kelly, we can’t,” I whispered, my voice barely a whisper. But even as I spoke the words, I knew I was lying to myself. I wanted this. I wanted her.
She looked up at me, her eyes full of desire and something else, something darker. “Why not, Dad? Don’t you want me?” Her hand moved lower, her fingers brushing against the hard length of my cock.
I groaned, the sound escaping my lips before I could stop it. “Kelly, please…”
She ignored my pleas, her sliding inside the front of my boxers. I stood there, helpless, as she reached inside and wrapped her hand around my shaft, her grip tight and sure.
Her touch was like an electric shock, searing a path from my groin straight to my brain, short-circuiting every last protest. My breath hitched again, but this time it was from a different kind of shock, a potent mix of fear and an undeniable, burning want. Her fingers tightened around me, a deliberate, knowing pressure, and a low moan rumbled in my chest, a sound I barely recognized as my own.
“See, Dad?” she whispered, her voice husky, her eyes fixed on mine, glittering in the moonlight. “You do want me.” She started to move her hand, slowly at first, then with a rhythm that was both tentative and incredibly confident. My knees felt weak, my entire body humming with a desperate longing I’d tried to suppress for months, years even. The cold air suddenly felt like a distant memory, replaced by a raging inferno inside me.
I gripped her shoulders, my fingers digging into the thin fabric of her nightgown, the silk cool beneath my touch, yet my skin burned. “Kelly, stop,” I managed, but the word was a plea, not a command. My eyes were shut tight for a moment, trying to regain control, to push back against the tide that was threatening to swallow me whole. But when I opened them, her gaze was still on me, relentless, challenging.
“Why?” she challenged, her hand never faltering. “Does it feel bad? Are you going to tell Mom I’m a slut now because I’m making you feel good?” Her thumb brushed over the tip of my shaft, and I gasped, my head tilting back slightly. The world narrowed to her hand, her eyes, and the increasingly desperate throb between my legs.
“No… no, Kelly,” I choked out, my voice thick with emotion. Every nerve ending in my body was screaming. This was wrong, utterly, completely wrong. But god, it felt so right. The sheer raw, animalistic pleasure was overwhelming, drowning out all reason, all guilt.
She leaned in closer, until her warm breath ghosted across my lips. “Good,” she murmured, and then she sped up her rhythm, her hand moving with an experienced ease that both shocked and thrilled me. “Because I know what Mom thinks. She thinks I’m a little girl. She thinks I don’t know anything about men, about bodies, about… pleasure.” Her voice dropped to a near whisper, laden with a dangerous allure. “But I do, Dad. I know a lot. And I know what I want.”
My body tensed, every muscle straining. I was close, terrifyingly close. My vision blurred, the moonlight around us seeming to intensify, creating a halo around her. Her hand was doing incredible things, pushing me further and further, past the point of no return.
“You’re… you’re going to make me… ” I couldn’t finish the sentence, the words getting caught in my throat.
She smiled then, a small, knowing smirk that was utterly devastating. “Good,” she said again, almost purring. “That’s what I want. I want you tired out. I want you to feel this.” And then, with a final, decisive pump of her hand, I shattered. A guttural cry tore from my throat as I reached my climax, my body arching, tremors running through me. I squeezed my eyes shut, gripping her shoulders so tightly I think I must have left marks. The hot release was explosive, a dizzying, overwhelming flood of sensation that left me panting, trembling, and utterly spent.
For a long moment, we just stood there, my hand still on her shoulders, my chest heaving, the aftershocks rippling through me. She slowly withdrew her hand from my boxers, leaving me feeling strangely exposed and cold despite the lingering warmth between my legs.
“Better?” she asked, her voice soft, almost innocent now, but still holding that core of knowing power.
I opened my eyes, meeting hers. Shame, confusion, and a raw, primal satisfaction warred within me. I couldn’t speak, could only nod, a small, jerky motion.
She stepped back, running her hand through her hair, pushing it away from her face. “You know,” she began, her gaze dropping, not to my still-hard cock, but lower, to herself. “I’ve been feeling a lot lately too. All this… tension. It makes my skin tingle. Makes me feel… restless.” She looked up at me again, her eyes wide and dark. “My pussy has been throbbing all night, Dad. It just feels so… empty. So needy.”
The words hit me like a physical blow. Her pussy. Empty. Needy. The image, combined with the lingering afterglow of my own release, snapped something inside me. All the suppressed desire, the months of deprivation, the explicit honesty of her words, the sheer audacity of her, sitting there, confessing her innermost desires to me, her father, was too much. It was a dam breaking, a flood of lust that was even more potent than what I’d just experienced.
“Kelly,” I rasped, my voice barely a whisper, thick with renewed desire. My spent cock was already stirring, a testament to the power of her words.
She took another step closer, her hand reaching out, not for me, but for the rough bark of the oak tree nearby, resting her palm flat against it. Her hips shifted subtly, pushing her bottom out just a fraction, her nightgown clinging to the curve of her ass. “It’s just… it feels so tight sometimes, you know? Like it needs to be stretched. Needs something big and hard to fill it up.”
That was it. I couldn’t take any more. My self-control, already tattered, completely disintegrated. All the reasons, all the warnings, all the societal norms, fled my mind, replaced by a singular, overwhelming need to plunge myself into her. To feel that tightness, that need she spoke of, wrapped around me.
With a growl, I reached for her, my hands gripping her waist. She didn’t resist, didn’t flinch. Instead, she leaned into my touch, her breath catching slightly as I pulled her back against me, her body fitting perfectly against mine. Her palms flattened against the rough bark of the tree, giving me access.
My fingers fumbled with the hem of her nightgown, my heart pounding a frantic rhythm against my ribs. I pulled the silken fabric up, higher and higher, until it was bunched around her waist, exposing the pale curve of her ass to the moonlight. Beneath it, I saw the thin outline of her knickers. They were tiny, barely there, holding a tantalizing secret.
I took a deep, shuddering breath, my mouth dry. With trembling fingers, I hooked them, pulling them down, slowly, agonizingly, over her smooth thighs, until they bunched around her knees. And then, there it was. Her pussy. Glistening in the moonlight, a dark, tempting slit that promised everything she’d just described. My cock, now fully hard again, pressed against her bare ass, throbbing with anticipation.
She let out a soft whimper, a sound of pure desire, as my fingers ghosted over her wetness. I couldn’t wait any longer. Pulling her slightly back still, I found my mark, the tip of my arousal pressing against her. She arched her back, a silent invitation, and with a guttural groan, I pushed. Slowly, deliberately, I slid inside her, feeling the incredible, mind-numbing stretch as her body enveloped mine.
A gasp escaped her lips, quickly followed by a soft moan of pleasure. I closed my eyes, a wave of intense sensation washing over me. The tightness, the warmth, the sheer unbelievable reality of being inside my daughter, filled me with a perverse ecstasy that silenced all remaining shreds of guilt. This was wrong. So wrong. But in that moment, as I felt her clench around me, I didn’t care. All I cared about was the feel of her, wrapped around my cock, finally filling that empty, needy space. And as I started to move, slowly at first, a reciprocal moan escaped my lips, joining hers in the still, cold night.
“Ahh honey… I shouldn’t be… ah fuck, I shouldn’t be fucking you,” I moaned as I held her tight and pounded my dick in and out her pussy.
“Don’t you dare stop, Dad,” she whimpered, her voice a raw, breathless plea as I pulled back slightly. Her hips rotated, pushing hard against me, demanding more. “Fuck your cock feels… arghh so good. Do you like my pussy.”
“More than you’ll ever know, Kelly. God, I fucking love it,” I groaned, burying myself deeper inside her. The tightness, the incredible, wet heat of her pussy clenching around my cock, was beyond anything I could have imagined. “It’s… so damn good. So perfect.”
She gasped, her fingers digging into the rough bark of the oak tree. “Oh, Dad. Fuck me harder. That’s it. Just like that.” Her hips rotated, pushing hard against me, a silent demand for more.
I didn’t need any more encouragement. My hips picked up speed, slamming into her from behind. The wet slap-slap-slap of our bodies echoed in the quiet night. Each thrust was a powerful release, a moment where all the shame, all the world outside, faded away, replaced by the dizzying sensation of her wrapped tightly around me.
“That’s it, honey. Just like that,” I panted, my breath ragged in her ear. My hands found her hips, gripping them, pulling her back even tighter against my relentless pace. Her soft ass cheeks slapped against my thighs with every powerful stroke.
“Oh god, Dad,” she whimpered, arching her back, pushing her bottom out further to meet my thrusts. “You feel so big. So good inside me.”
Her words were like fuel to a roaring fire. “You’re so wet, Kelly. So tight. This feels… unbelievable.” I closed my eyes, picturing her, wet and glistening, receiving me. The image, combined with the reality, was overwhelming.
“I told you I was needy,” she said, her voice strained with pleasure. “I told you I needed this. And you… you need it too, don’t you?”
“Yes,” I choked out, the word torn from my chest. “God, yes. More than anything.” My head was swimming. The air was thick with our combined scent, the musk of our bodies and raw arousal.
I focused only on her, on the way her body responded, how she moaned, how she arched, how she clearly wanted this just as much as I did. The guilt was a distant, easily drowned-out hum, replaced by the roar of blood in my ears and the frantic pounding of my heart.
My climax was building again, faster this time, more intense than the last. Every thrust brought me closer to the edge, closer to losing myself completely in her.
“I’m almost there, honey, I’m almost there,” I gasped, burying my face in her hair, inhaling her sweet, musky scent.
“Me too, Dad,” she cried out, her voice breaking. “Oh god, Dad, don’t stop! Come on!”
I let out another guttural roar, pushing in with one final, deep thrust. My body clenched, and I exploded inside her again, a hot, thick gush of cum filling her. I groaned, pulling her even tighter against me, my body trembling with the force of my orgasm. Kelly cried out too, a high-pitched moan of pure release, her body shuddering violently against mine as her own climax washed over her.
We stood there, locked together, both panting, both spent, the heat of our bodies mingling in the cool night air. The only sounds were our ragged breaths and the soft rustling leaves of the oak tree above us.