I was halfway through a marshmallow, the kind that sticks a little to your teeth, when Gina said it. “Has your dad… like, been with anyone? Since your mum left?”
The question didn’t land like a joke. It landed soft and strange, like the moment right before rain. We all kind of looked at each other, reflexively, waiting for someone to laugh. No one did. Just silence and sugar breath.
There were four of us on my bed, legs crossed, backs curved, knees brushing. Me, Gina, Summer, Imani. A lazy mess of pillows and snack wrappers around us, half a nail polish bottle leaking onto a magazine cover. Everyone was in nighties—different textures, different cuts, but all kind of slinky in their own way. Summer’s was pink satin and constantly slipping off her shoulder, one strap always hanging like it couldn’t be bothered. It made her chest look like it was floating. Imani wore an oversized black tee that wasn’t technically a nightie, but on her tall frame it clung and draped like one. Gina’s was shorter than she’d admit on purpose—lace at the hem, tiny bow at the bust. Mine was cotton, pale blue with faded flowers, tight across the hips and stretched thinner than I remembered from last summer. When I sat back, it hiked up, the fabric riding softly against my thighs. We all had that warm, glow skin you get when it’s too late to care and your makeup’s halfway gone. Slightly sticky from snacks and sweat. Pretty in that real, undone way.
“God,” I said, half laughing. “What kind of question is that?”
“I dunno,” Gina shrugged, licking powdered sugar off her thumb in a way that wasn’t accidental. “He was checking out Summer’s legs earlier like he forgot we were real.”
Summer flipped her hair, grinning. “I can’t help it. These legs have a dad setting.”
We cracked up. But something hung under it—something warmer, stickier, more curious.
“He’s just… lonely,” I said, quieter. “It’s not weird.”
Imani cocked her head, one eyebrow lifting. “Yeah, but like—lonely lonely? Or war-movie-hands-in-his-lap lonely?”
That made Gina choke on a sip of soda. I grabbed a pillow and threw it, grinning. “Shut up.”
But the picture was already there. Him, downstairs, slouched into that recliner like it was molded for him. That old olive green one with the coffee stain shaped like Australia. The way he watches those war documentaries like they’re gospel. Stubble thick on his jaw, that heavy belly under his T-shirt rising and falling like tide. He drinks now—more than he used to. Whisky in a mug, always. He’d had one earlier. Maybe two. When we came down for popcorn, his eyes were slow and too focused. He stared. Not rude, not pervy, but long. Summer didn’t seem to mind.
It’s not like I don’t notice. He hasn’t dated since Mum. Nothing. He shaved for Uncle Darren’s wedding once, and I remember looking at his bare face thinking, He could be handsome. If he tried. But he doesn’t. Not really. Just wears those old T-shirts that cling where they shouldn’t and slump where they could flatter. Still, there’s something in the way he fills a room. Maybe that’s why it stuck.
Gina propped herself up on one elbow, her nightie cinching around her ribs. The light hit her collarbones just right, casting soft shadows down her chest. “What if we dared you to find out?”
“Find out what?”
“If he’s… still got game,” she said, with a slow smile and a wink that felt heavier than a joke.
Imani groaned, burying her face in her hands. “Oh my God. That’s disgusting.”
“It is,” I said. But there was this twitch in my chest, like someone had pulled a thread and didn’t tie it back.
No one moved for a second. It was that particular kind of hush that comes when everyone knows the moment has shifted. Something about it felt weightless. Electric. Like standing on the edge of something weird and maybe too real. But we were already leaning in.
Gina popped a chip in her mouth. “Truth or dare?”
I rolled my eyes, but the air had changed. “We’re seriously doing this?”
She nodded, slow. “Truth or dare, Ellie.”
I paused. Felt my heart beat once, hard.
“I’ll take the dare,” I said.
Gina sat up straighter like she’d been waiting for me to say that since she got here. Her nightie slid up her thighs as she shifted. She didn’t fix it. “You have to go downstairs. Right now. And talk to your dad.”
“Talk to him,” I repeated, trying to sound bored.
“Not just talk,” Imani jumped in. “You’ve got to flirt. Just a little.”
Summer gave a low whistle. “That’s so wrong. It’s brilliant.”
Gina leaned forward. Her eyes were lit. “Ask him when he last hooked up. Touch his arm, maybe. Try turn him on. Oh and before you go take your knickers off right now. No man can turn pussy down even if it is his daughters”
Imani’s face was shocked as well as mine and Summer’s. The air, which had been buzzing with nervous energy, suddenly went cold.
“Gina!” Summer exploded, pushing herself back against the headboard, her pink satin nightie bunching around her. “What the hell? That’s… that’s messed up.”
Imani nodded fiercely, pulling her oversized tee tighter over her chest. “Seriously, G. Even for you, that’s way too far. He’s her dad.”
My own mouth had fallen open. The marshmallow, forgotten, felt like a lead weight in my stomach. A hot flush spread across my face, not from embarrassment for myself, but a sudden, protective anger for my dad, and a deep, unsettling disgust for the suggestion. “That’s not funny,” I said, my voice thin and sharp. “That’s actually disgusting.”
Gina, for once, looked genuinely taken aback. Her usual smirk faltered. She picked at a loose thread on her nightie, avoiding eye contact. “Okay, okay, I went too far. It was…”
I cut her off with “fine” as I lifted my nightie a little and slid off my knickers.
Summer gasped. It wasn’t a loud, dramatic gasp, just a quick, sharp intake of air, like she’d forgotten to breathe. Imani didn’t even make a sound. She was just staring, her eyes wide and black against her pale face, fixed on the crumpled heap of lace and cotton on my carpet. Gina, for all her bluster, looked a little green around the edges. Her perfectly shaped smirk had vanished, replaced by something that looked caught between triumph and outright horror.
“Ellie,” Summer whispered, her voice tight. “You didn’t… you actually…?”
I didn’t look at any of them. My face was still burning, but it was a cold burn now, a strange, hollow feeling. I focused on the wall, on a faded poster of a band I barely listened to anymore. My legs felt suddenly very exposed, the air strangely cool around my thighs.
“A dare’s a dare,” I said, my voice sounding more steady than I felt. “He’s probably too old to get it up anyway.”
Gina smirks as I leave the room, “don’t forget to accidentally bend over in front of him so he can see there pretty gash of yours haha.”
I walk down stairs into the living room where my dad was on the sofa watching his movie. I purposely brushed against the coffee table knocking the remote on to the floor, “Oh sorry dad let me pick it up.” My heart raced as I bent over with my nightie riding up giving him a full view of my pussy.
He didn’t move. Not a muscle. It was like he froze, the war movie still playing on the screen, but his eyes were locked on me. I felt the air shift, get heavier, thicker. My hair brushed the carpet. The remote felt slick in my fingers.
I picked up the remote and got up, I saw his crotch tenting. I sat down beside him with my hand on his leg a little near is crotch. I accidentally blurted out staring at his cock, “I guess that thing still works. Do… do you need any help, there is only me awake.” I lied.
“Trust me it works,” he said, he wasn’t even mad with me. Oh my this was going to far but I couldn’t help myself.
“You sure dad, I mean your a bit old.” I pushed it further.
“Old?” he scoffed, his voice a low rumble that vibrated through her hand resting on his leg. He shifted, and she felt the hard bulge of him press against her palm, even through the fabric of his jeans. His gaze dropped to her mouth, then lower, to where her nightie was still hiked up high on her thighs. “You sure you want to bet on that, princess?”
“Maybe I do,” she whispered, her voice surprisingly steady. She watched his eyes, saw them darken, hungry. A strange thrill shot through her. Without thinking, or maybe thinking too much, she shifted on the sofa, opening her legs just a fraction, her nightie riding further up, exposing the pale curve of her inner thigh, and then, unmistakably, the dark triangle of hair between them. The air around them crackled.
“Ellie,” he breathed, his voice a raw whisper, like he was trying to hold himself back, and failing. His hand, which had been resting on the armrest, twitched. His eyes were wide, fixed on her, no longer trying to hide the intensity of his gaze. He swallowed hard, his Adam’s Apple bobbing. “What are you doing?”
“Just seeing if you still have game, Dad,” she murmured, leaning in, her voice low and husky. Her fingers, still resting on his leg, trailed upwards, just slightly, brushing the soft fabric near his straining zipper. She knew she was playing with fire, but the heat felt good. Her eyes met his, daring him. “Well? Do you?”
I laid on the couch and let my legs flop open and he could see my pussy as my nightie stretched up. I saw him pull his zipper down and undid his top button and he slid them half down and his boxers and got on top of me. I felt the head of his cock pressed against my labia.
His breath was hot against my neck as he leaned in, his lips brushing my ear. “You have no idea what you’re doing, princess,” he murmured, his voice low and rough. His hips pressed forward slightly, the head of his cock slipping between my sweet folds, as he slowly sank deep inside of me.
His thick shaft stretched me open as he pushed deeper, filling me completely. I gasped at the sudden intrusion, my back arching off the couch. He was so big, bigger than I had imagined. His hands gripped my hips tightly, holding me in place as he began to move.
“Fuck, Ellie,” he groaned, his face contorting with pleasure. “I shouldn’t be doing this.”
He started to thrust, his hips moving in a steady rhythm as he fucked me. The couch creaked beneath us, the sound mixing with our heavy breathing and the wet noises of our bodies joining. His pubic hair rubbed against my clit with each thrust, sending jolts of pleasure through me.
“Dad,” I gasped, wrapping my legs around his waist. “Oh god, Dad.”
He groaned against my neck, his teeth grazing my skin. “You feel so fucking good, princess. Like heaven wrapped around my cock.” His thrusts became faster, harder, the head of his shaft hitting that sweet spot inside me with each pump of his hips. The room filled with the sounds of our bodies slapping together, the wet squelch of my pussy being stretched and filled.
He pulled back and looked down at me, his eyes dark with lust. “Turn over,” he commanded, his voice firm. “I want to see that perfect ass of yours.” I hesitated for a moment, but the desire in his eyes was too intense to resist. I rolled over onto my stomach, lifting my hips in the air. The cool air hit my wet pussy as I presented myself to him. I felt his cock slide back into my pussy but this time from behind.
His hands gripped my hips tightly as he began to thrust into me from behind, his balls slapping against my clit with each powerful stroke. The new angle allowed him to go even deeper, hitting places inside me that I didn’t know existed. I gripped the couch cushions tightly, my knuckles turning white as I pushed my hips back to meet his thrusts.
“Yes, Dad,” I moaned loudly, not caring if the whole house heard us. “Fuck me harder. I ahhh can’t believe I am letting you bang me.”
“Fuck, Ellie,” he groaned, his fingers digging into my hips. “Your pussy is so tight. So fucking perfect. It’s wrong but I could… arghh fuck… I could get use to this. You being Daddy’s sex toy.”
He grabbed a fistful of my hair, pulling my head back as he pounded into me from behind. The sudden, rough movement sent shockwaves of pleasure through my body. I cried out, a mix of surprise and ecstasy, my back arching as he used me like his personal fuck toy. “Yes, Daddy,” I moaned loudly, not caring who might hear. “Use me. Fuck your little girl’s tight pussy.”
His grip on my hair tightened, and he leaned over me, his chest pressing against my back. His breath was hot on my neck as he growled in my ear. “That’s right, princess. You’re Daddy’s good girl. Taking his cock so well.” His other hand snaked around to my front, finding my clit and rubbing it in tight circles. The dual stimulation was overwhelming, and I felt my orgasm building quickly.
His fingers on my clit and his thick cock pounding into me from behind pushed me over the edge. I screamed out as my orgasm crashed over me, my pussy clamping down on his shaft. He groaned loudly, his hips stuttering as he felt my walls convulsing around him. “Fuck, Ellie,” he gasped, his voice strained. “I’m going to… I’m going to cum.”
He pulled out of me suddenly and pushed my nightie right up, his cock slick with my juices. I felt empty and used, but in the best way possible. He stroked himself a few times before I felt warm liquid splatter against my back and ass. He came all over me.
He stood there for a moment, panting, his chest heaving. Then he stepped back, tucking himself away and zipping up. He looked down at me, sprawled on the couch, my nightie hiked up to the top of my shoulders, his cum dripping down my back. His expression was unreadable.
“Ellie,” he said finally, his voice rough. “Let me get a tissue and clean you up.”
He disappeared in to the kitchen and came back with a damp cloth. He cleaned me gently, wiping his cum off my back and ass. Once he finished, he pulled my nightie back down, covering me up.
I kissed his cheek, “I best go to bed, good night Dad.”
He nodded, still looking a bit dazed. “Good night, princess.” I got up, feeling his eyes on me as I walked upstairs to my room.
I climbed into bed, my heart still racing from what had just happened. It was wrong, I knew that. But it felt so right. I couldn’t believe I had just let my own father fuck me. The girls were all asleep and then I heard Gina mumble “you dirty bitch, night.”