Note: This story was dynamically reformatted for online reading convenience.
 
 Title: I Couldn't Sleep


Summary: 7500-word quick hitter about a widower & his adult daughter.


Keywords:inc,fic,erotic,hot





   "Whatcha watching?"

   Dad looked up at me from the sofa.  Dressed in a white t-shirt and a
pair of dark boxers, my father looked like he was about to head to bed.

   "Oh, just this show called Easy on Netflix," he replied while picking
up the remote.  The only light in the room was coming from the television,
which stopped flickering because he paused the show.  "Can't sleep, baby?"

   I always liked when Dad called me, "baby." It was incredibly comforting
and reminded me of when I was younger.  When life had been easier.  It had
been a tough few years for us, though he always tried to hide his pain from
me.  First, the cystic fibrosis that Mom fought with her whole life finally
beat her.  Mom made it much longer in life than most people with CF and
never wanted to hear about how there was no cure and eventually, CF would
kill her.  She was/is my hero.  She wasn't even my biological mother - Dad
and Mom made the choice to avoid potentially passing CF to me.  Her cousin
and best friend, Bethany, is my actual birth mother.  That said, Mom raised
me from the start.  I never asked the particulars of how Dad got Bethany
pregnant.

   Six months after Mom's passing, my husband of just less than three
years, Frank, informed me that he felt we had rushed into marriage and I
was pushing the prospect of having children on him too much.  All of that
was code for "I've been fucking two different women." Luckily, I found that
out before agreeing to a 50/50 split of assets with no alimony.  For the
record - fuck Frank.

   "Yeah, I'm tossing and turning," I said with a sigh.  I sat down next to
Dad, who was nursing a Killian's.  "Brain's racing, I guess."

   He nodded and drank a little more from his bottle before placing it
down. I grabbed it and took a gulp.  I hated Killian's, but I'd try
anything to get some sleep right now.

   Once Frank and I divorced, we sold the house I planned to raise a family
in and I moved into a cute little cottage.  I loved that place, but I
couldn't keep up with payments once I lost my job because of COVID.  And
that's why, at the age of 26, I'm back at home with my father.  I've tried
to make the best of a bad circumstance.  Dad needed a lot of help around
the home because, unlike me, he could work from home as a software engineer
so he did not have an over-abundance of free time.  Beyond that, after
Mom's death, he hadn't been doing a lot of the regular stuff Mom used to
handle on her good days.  When she had a lot of good days, she'd have
beautiful flower beds and the house would look like a million bucks.  Even
when she had a bunch of bad days mixed in, she still found time to keep the
house clean and orderly with a dinner ready for her husband later that
evening - even if she had to bite the bullet occasionally and order some
delivery.

   I'm not as amazing as my mother, but I've tried to do my best.  I even
sometimes laugh in my head as I pretend to be my Dad's new wife.  It's not
a romantic thing, but merely an observation of our new life together.  My
mac and cheese isn't as delicious as Mom's was, but he scarfs it down like
it is.  I make a pretty good steak, too.  I've cleaned and organized the
rest of the house - often turning rooms that had not been used since Mom's
passing into something functional once again.  The flower gardens are a
work in progress, but dammit, I'm trying.

   "So, what's Easy about?"

   Dad got up and walked toward the kitchen while explaining the show to
me. According to my father, the series was about several different people,
modern relationships, and how they work.  The episode he was watching
included a couple from the previous season who were giving an open marriage
a shot.  "But almost every episode has different people in it," he said,
passing me a Mike's Lemonade while he placed another Killian's down for
himself.  Finishing off the first bottle, he opened another as I took my
first sugary sips of Mike's.  "Honestly, I think Jane put it in the
watch-list for us to watch sometime and we never got around to it."

   Pressing play, he sat back.  Only a few minutes later, despite the
sugary nature of Mike's, it didn't take long for my eyes to once again get
a little heavy.  Placing the drink down as we watched the couple dealing
with the new challenges in their life from their choice to have an open
marriage, I yawned.  My eyes slightly darted away and I looked toward the
steps that I would need to climb to get back to my room.  It seemed so far.

   Besides...there was no one else up there.

   "Mind if I cuddle a little and close my eyes?" I asked.  "Like I used to
do when I was a girl?"

   "You still are a girl," he quipped.

   "You know what I mean!"

   He laughed and settled to get comfy before gesturing with his hand to
lean into him.  I didn't want to block his view of the television so I
placed my head low on his belly as he chuckled at the program.  Dad has a
minor gut, but is still in decent shape for a guy who doesn't work out.  He
used to, but it was something he just didn't have time for when Mom got
real bad.  Still, I had a growing appreciation for "Dad bods" so I thought
the gut worked for him.

   The episode came to a close and Netflix moved to the next one - titled
"Side Hustle." The episode began with a tall blonde woman at a diner with
an older woman.  I want to make it clear that I'm not a prude at all.  I
believed that, as a wife, my job was to be supportive and open to my
husband's interests.  I can say that before Frank, I wasn't overly
experienced.  But with Frank, I tried many new things.  We watched porn
together, had sex outdoors, had a threesome, had a devil's threesome, and I
even rimmed his ass since I couldn't come up with a better retort after he
mentioned he ate my ass so willingly.

   But hearing another woman talk about her gang-bang rape fantasy while
laying my head on my father's stomach made me a little...apprehensive.  Dad
didn't say anything about it and I felt too awkward to mention it so we let
it pass.  The blonde then went home where she cleaned up her apartment -
along with cleaning her pussy - as she got dressed for someone to come by.
Again, I felt like I should try to escape because, while I'm not an awkward
age anymore, seeing a woman getting dressed to possibly have sex with your
father so close is still uncomfortable.

   But the episode moved the focus away from her and to a stand-up comedian
who drove an Uber.  I felt myself get more at ease as a result.  My eyes
got heavy again and I closed them momentarily.

   When I opened them again, several minutes had passed and the blonde was
talking to an Indian guy.  I was having trouble sticking with the story,
but soon, two things were quite undeniable.  One, the two quickly moved to
the bed where she was playing with herself while he licked her nipples. 
And two, Dad was starting to really get into the show.

   I last saw my Dad's penis when I was eighteen and I burst into my
parent's room to tell them I overslept and missed the bus.  Both of them
were naked - clearly having fucked the previous evening.  Dad often called
Mom a covers hog and it seemed to be quite true as she was curled up with
the blankets while only a sheet covered Dad's legs.  But it stopped short
of covering his cock.  I didn't know then what I know now about cocks, but
Dad was packing some serious heat.  Mom may have got the shitty end of the
stick with a terrible disease, but she won the lottery in other ways.  Dad
quickly covered himself, but nearly a decade later, I can still tell you
how it looked.

   But it wasn't hard that day.

   Tonight - well, maybe he wasn't fully there just yet, but let's say he
was definitely awake.

   I dared not to move.  I did, though, become hyper-aware that Dad's hand
on my side began to apply some pressure like he was squeezing my hip.  And
that fact made me even more aware that I probably should have thrown on my
robe before I left my room.  Upstairs gets a bit warmer than downstairs and
with the July heatwave in full effect, our AC unit was giving it all she's
got, but captain, it still felt a bit too muggy upstairs for my tastes. 
So, tonight, I slid into a pair of short gray shorts that barely covered my
tush along with the matching tank top.  I did have a pair of panties on so
if the worst happened and my shorts started to ride up, it's not like my
entire ass would be displayed.  All that said, I felt quite exposed.

   I closed my eyes, trying to ignore both the scene on the television and
the vision in front of my eyes of my father's shorts-covered cock that
seemed to be expanding to unreal levels.

   Worse - I tried my best to ignore the fact that the little slit in his
boxers was dangerously close to his hard-on and with one shift of the
fabric, he'd be showing me his no-no parts.

   Despite myself, with my refusal to move and my eyes closed - along with
the increasingly normal movement of his hand against my hip and the very
top of my ass - the need to sleep once again got to me.  It wasn't a deep
sleep and I think music from the TV forced my eyes to open again, but time
had definitely passed.  The blonde with the great body and the
African-American Uber stand-up comedian were no longer on the television.
Instead, James Franco's brother from 21 Jump Street was fussing about
something related to a brewery.

   But that wasn't very important.

   Dad's dick was still quite hard in front of me.  It looked damn painful
for him to keep it locked up in his boxers to be honest.  Seeing a cock so
hard only a few inches away from me made me think about how long it had
been since I had seen one so up close.  While I had some offers as news of
my pending divorce spread, between needing to re-establish myself both at
the cottage and then here - along with COVID - the thought of hooking up
just to get some was a difficult prospect to explore.  I was married the
last time I was this close to a hard cock and let's just say that while
Frank pushed my boundaries and had a skilled tongue, his dick was average
at best.

   Not that having an average dick sucks.  It gets the job done.  But my
daddy didn't have an average dick and my mind was starting to rush to
compartmentalize things so that I could take a second to enjoy just how big
Dad's penis really was.  I was starting to wish that he would shift his
boxers a few inches over to let this impressive tool slide through the slit
and stand proudly.  Like I said, it couldn't have felt good to be
restrained.

   To be fair - it wasn't just the huge fucking cock nearly a tongue's
length away that was pushing me from awkward embarrassment to super horny.
Nor was it the fact that it had been so long since I got banged.  Not that
both weren't factors, but we shouldn't ignore the travelling hand that
moved from my hip to lower on my ass.  My tiny, little loose shorts had
been pushed to the side so that he could touch underneath them and the lacy
panties that still covered at least some of my modesty.  Dad was squeezing
my rump and running his hand back-and-forth on it.  I tried to control my
breathing when I felt the tip of his fingers slide down my crack and over
my panty-covered asshole.  It had been way too long since someone played
with my ass.  Frank, the fucker that he is, had spoiled me.  Before him,
anal was a definite "no." He turned it into a "hmmm, yeah, get your tongue
in there." Now, even during masturbation, I often let a finger move down
there and tease my ass until pushing in.  Sometimes, if I needed it enough,
I would slide my smaller vibe into my ass while I fucked my pussy with the
bigger dong that I lovingly called The Punisher.

   God, I needed to be fucked and Dad was only making that need stronger.

   I pushed myself to close my eyes again and tried to ignore everything
until Dad finally had enough of teasing and went to bed.  But closing my
eyes only sharpened my focus on Dad's hand.  I knew I was getting
incredibly wet and he hadn't really done anything.  He could probably try
to explain it as absentmindedly touching me.  He was just watching the
show. Okay, the way his hand grabbed one of my ass-cheeks while his fingers
pushed into my crack might be a little difficult to explain.  But fuck, it
felt good.

   He shifted slightly.  Just a little, but I felt it and his hand went
lower - the fingers pushing against where my thighs met.  My right leg was
a little in front of my left one as I laid on the couch.  He wouldn't get
much further - not without my help.  But that didn't stop him from applying
some pressure, relaxing, and then re-applying pressure.  Nor did it stop my
pussy from gushing from the most sexual touching another person had given
me in well over a year-and-a-half.

   For some reason, I thought of a conversation Dad and I had not too long
ago.

   "I just can't see myself swiping whatever direction," he told me as we
ate dinner one evening.  "That's the worst way to start a relationship."

   "Well, most people who use that app aren't searching for a
relationship," I joked.

   "Be that as it may, I'm just not interested in going down that
direction."

   I looked over at him.  He was still a handsome man even after hitting
the Big 5-0.  He retained his full head of hair - Mom always teased him
about how his brown hair was better than hers - and the few strands of gray
only made him look better in my opinion.  While he wasn't running any
marathons, he wasn't out-of-shape either.  When he took off his shirt to
mow the lawn, Mrs.  Henderson front next door always found a reason to be
outside, too.  Yeah, there was a gut, but like I said, it only added to the
look in my - and apparently Mrs.  Henderson's - opinion.

   "Besides, we're not talking about me, we're talking about you," he
pointed out.  "It's been enough time, Sarah.  You are a beautiful, young,
and accomplished girl.  No reason that you shouldn't be going on dates."

   This was before we knew how bad COVID was - when the prospect of casual
dating wasn't so life-threatening.  I ignored his comments for the most
part.  I had heard them before since moving back home.

   But he kept pushing so I fired back, "If you want me out this bad, then
just say so."

   He was taken aback by my comment.  "Baby," he said quietly.  "It's not
that at all.  I love having you back home.  It's nice to have someone to
talk to again and someone to spend my life with."

   "Then why are you so anti-dating?" I asked.  "Especially since you push
me to get back out there."

   Dad took a few moments to gather his thoughts before replying.  First,
he grabbed my hand that was laying on the table.  "One day, I imagine I
will try to find companionship elsewhere.  Not right now.  I'm not nearly
ready to give it a try.  But one day, I will see about this whole dating
thing again.  But you have to understand that you and I are in very
different situations.  I found the woman of my dreams.  I married her.  We
had an amazing kid together and spent nearly a quarter-a-century together.
I've already met the love-of-my-life, baby.  Nobody will ever - EVER -
compare to Jane.  But you?  You still haven't met your soulmate, baby. 
Frank was a douchebag.  He was a mistake.  And mistakes are there to teach
us something.  I'm not saying you'll go on one date and find your Mr. 
Right.  But Sarah, he's out there looking for you.  You should be looking
for him, too."

   I felt so bad for Dad so I joined a few apps and started chatting with a
few guys.  But nothing had materialized into dates with everything going
on. And now, here I was, afraid to open my eyes while Dad continued to
touch my ass like a lover might.

   His other arm began to move.  I thought he might give up on this strange
situation we found ourselves in and turn off the television.  But instead,
he moved it in front of my face for a few moments and I felt him shift a
little more.  His other hand went even lower and the pressure at where my
legs met became even stronger.  While that happened, the hand that was in
front of my face moved to my head and he started to, I guess, pet me?  It
felt so comforting and so strange at the same time.  While his pinky rubbed
against my asshole, he was also petting me like I was being a good
daughter?

   The room went dark for a second and I wondered if he had turned off the
television.  When I opened my eyes, I noticed that the episode was over and
Netflix was wondering if Dad was still watching.  He didn't move to answer
their query.T

   But again, what was happening on the television wasn't the important
part.  No, the cock that stood straight up having been freed from its
prison was the headline here.  Holy fuck, Dad was a shower and a grower.

   I closed my eyes tightly.  I shouldn't be looking at my Dad's amazing
cock.  But then, with my eyes closed, I was now imagining it in my mouth.
In my small hands.  Sliding between the lips of my drenched cunt. 
Impossibly finding a way into my tight little asshole.  God damn, I needed
to look at it some more.

   Opening my eyes, I was impressed with how hard he was despite the fact
he wasn't touching himself.  This is a guy who has a t-shirt that says, "It
should be against the law to look this good at 50," not some 23-year-old in
the best shape of his life.  But Dad showed zero signs of aging when it
came to how his dick worked.  I stared at it like it was an art piece.  The
way a vein traveled up the right side of it before finally disappearing
from view just an inch away from the helmet.  How the crown perfectly was
displayed with the light of the television behind it.  And at the top, a
shine from precum that had already escaped from the hidden reservoirs.  I
even could give him a pass from the bushy pubic hair that sprouted up from
the base.  I preferred almost no hair - made oral sex all the more
enjoyable for me to give.  But hey, he wasn't doing any manscaping for
anyone at the moment.

   I was in Cock Heaven, which is both an amazing place to be and, at least
right now, a very frustrating one.  I couldn't reach out and grab this
cock. I couldn't taste that salty precum that shined at the top of it. 
This was still my Dad's cock and that was fucking unfair.  It shouldn't
look this tasty.

   Two things started to happen almost simultaneously and I'll have you
know that neither helped my predicament.  The first was when Dad's hand
moved from my head to his dick, wrapping around the impressive shaft.  He
didn't move much higher from the base, but he probably had reached a point
where he could no longer avoid touching that dick.  I probably wasn't too
far behind myself.  It was screaming for me to intervene after all so it
was probably a good thing Dad got to it first.  Probably.

   The other thing that happened nearly blew my cover.  Up until I felt his
other hand move, doing this faux-sleep thing wasn't too difficult.  From
the angle I was at, Dad couldn't see my eyes.  As long as I controlled my
breathing, I could pretend that I was still sleeping soundly - blissfully
unaware of the delicious treat in front of me or the wandering hand at my
backside.  But then that wandering hand wandered away from my backside. 
Slowly, it slid away from my ass - it felt cold without his hand - and slid
back over my shorts up to my hip.  It didn't stop there, though.  Some skin
was showing between my tank-top and shorts and I felt his hand against my
bare skin.  It was just my side, but fuck, when you're this turned on, any
skin-to-skin touching makes you shiver.  If he noticed, he didn't let on
that he had, because after only a second, his hand went higher.  As did the
bottom of my tank-top.

   I felt the anxiety come back.  Dad was pushing the boundaries.  Hell, he
was tearing them down.  There was no way I could "wake up" and he could
talk his way out of this.  There was no, "this isn't what it looks like" to
be had.  This was completely what it looked like.  And felt like.  His hand
kept moving higher and I concentrated on my breathing.  I should just stir,
make a sleepy noise, and try to pretend I'm slowly waking up.  But I was
frozen in place while his hand certainly wasn't.

   When the side of his index finger touched my full breasts, I nearly
screamed.  Or came.  Or both.  And the fact that he was clearly now
touching my tits didn't stop him.  He kept moving, his hand moving over my
large tits that I definitely got from my mother's side of the family.  Mom
had big ones.  My birth-mother has big ones.  Hell, my Grandmother's
breasts are obscenely large.  Mom used to joke that it just runs in the
family after I mentioned that I was now a D-cup.  "Wait till you have
kids," she joked.

   I was starting to get the impression that Dad was very much a boob guy.
And as his fingers - one-by-one - moved over my nipple, it was impossible
to breath normally anymore.  Each time a digit moved over my nipple, an
electric shock went straight to my pussy.  I needed to orgasm so bad and
Dad was only making it worse.

   If that wasn't bad enough, his hand moved a little faster over his cock.
Not only that, but he went higher.  I mean, I couldn't blame him.  What was
he trying to hide at this point?  My nipple was between his middle and ring
fingers and he was squeezing the little bud.  Was he going to pretend that
he also wasn't jacking off openly?  Any moment now, I assumed I would have
to push my hand into my panties just to get off because this was the most
turned-on I had been in years.

   I started to wonder if he was going to blow his load on my face?  Would
he try to clean it up?  Would I be able to secretly taste him before he
did? And how good would he taste?  Fuck, I needed more than my nipple toyed
with.

   I considered opening my legs, but knew that it wouldn't look natural.  I
don't know who I was trying to fool.  This fucking guy was tweaking my
nipple with increasing force as his hand moved quicker over his cock.  Why
was I still pretending to sleep?  How deep of a sleeper could I possibly
be? But a voice in my head said that I had already gone down this road so I
couldn't possibly change direction now.  But that voice wasn't nearly as
loud as the one begging me to just give myself to my Dad and fuck him
senseless.  We both needed it, after all.  Yet, I couldn't force myself to
move.

   Openly, I stared at his cock and licked my lips to keep them wet.  My
breathing was clearly not normal anymore and he kept driving my sensitive
nipple crazy with his fingers.  I felt like I was just waiting for him to
cum now.  Once he came, he would deal with the awkwardness and then this
pleasant ordeal would be over.  We probably would never mention it.  It
would just be this weird thing we both knew about it, but dared not to talk
about.

   But then, he stopped stroking.  I figured it was because he was ready to
orgasm and that belief continued as he pulled his dick down so that it
aimed at me.  My dad wanted to give his baby girl a true money shot.  Okay,
then.  Wouldn't be the first time.  Well, with a family member, it would
have been.

   For the first time in probably an hour, one of us said something.  It
was faint - almost inaudible over the ambiance of the air conditioner,
slight noise of the television, and our breathing.  But it also was clear
and easy-to-understand.  In a whisper, Dad said, "Oh, Jane."

   I knew he wasn't sleeping.  I knew he was at least somewhat aware of the
situation we were in.  But I also knew that in his lust and loss, I wasn't
just his daughter anymore.  I was also my mother - the one that raised me.
Honestly, if you looked down at me in the dark, you might even be able to
convince yourself I was her.  I'm a little bigger in my hips than she was.
My ass has more heft than hers did.  And while her hair was more bright
blonde like most of her family, I had strawberry blonde hair.  I wore mine
long while Mom kept a shoulder-length cut.  But in the dark, there was
enough semblance to convince yourself that I was a decent Mom stand-in.

   But even if I didn't share any similarities with her, Dad probably would
have still said her name because he was in a fantasy world where he could
pretend Mom was still alive and they had just watched this show together
like she probably planned on when she heard about it.  They touched one
another during the show, getting the engine going, and now with it done,
they were ready for some more fun.

   His hand moved away from my breast.  For a moment, I wondered if he
would go south again.  Instead, he pulled his arm away completely from my
body.  I was a bit sad about that until I felt his hand move to my head.  I
knew this move.  I had felt that pressure before.  Unless I agree to it
beforehand - usually a special occasion thing - or I put Frank's hand on my
head when I was feeling extra-slutty, I'm not into being force-fed a cock.
It's kind of too rapey for my tastes normally.  And until this evening, I
had never had my father attempt to feed me his over-sized cock before.  But
here I was - my tank-top above my breasts, my panties drenched in my own
juices, and my ass probably partially exposed as well.  And to top it off,
my father was pushing down on my head while he held his cock at its base
and directed it toward my mouth.

   Instinctually, I tried to push back against the force - even though I
badly wanted to taste him.  I figured it would put a stop to things.  After
all, to this point, I pretended to sleep despite its efforts to drive me
mad.  But when I stopped my descent by pushing away, he added force.  In
his hand, he gripped his cock hard.  Inches between us disappeared as we
were brought closer together.  And then, my top lip touched his cock.  His
aim wasn't perfect, but he kept pushing.  I tried to keep my mouth closed -
which was quite hard considering all the evil voices in my head were
telling me to enjoy myself.  He was persistent, though.

   "Come on, Jane," he said.  "Open up for Daddy."

   What the fuck?

   I honestly didn't know whether he was perfectly aware of what he was
doing and using Mom's name or if Mom and him were much kinkier in bed than
I ever gave them credit for.

   I swear I was only trying to say his name.  That's why I opened my
mouth. I was trying to get through to him.  I was trying to stop him.  I
swear that's what I was doing.  I squealed in surprise when my voice was
shut off by his thick cock sliding into my open mouth.  Seeing how big my
father was is one thing.  Feeling his width stretch my mouth is an entire
new, albeit not unpleasant, thing.  He wasn't even pushing my head down
hard on his cock and making me take his length, which surely would gag me.
Nevertheless, as he fucked my mouth with short strokes, I kind of hoped he
would make me take it.

   The precum was as salty and yummy as I had predicted.  At first, the
surprise of everything made me into a sex toy.  I had the feel of a person,
but not the reactions of one.  But as his taste started to overpower me, I
found myself moving my tongue to sweep over the top of his cock as it moved
down before pushing back into my mouth.  I kept the rest of my body still -
still pretending that we both weren't incredibly aware of what was going on
- but a sex-starved girl can only take so much before she has to act. 
After all, he certainly was.

   He kept my head still with one hand on the back of my skull while the
one that had been gripping his cock moved to cradle my forehead. 
Meanwhile, he bridged up only an inch or two off the couch in quick shallow
strokes into my mouth.  My lips tightly circled around his dick as I
breathed through my nose and tried not to moan as more precum was collected
by my tongue.  It had been so long since I had a cock in my mouth and I had
never had one this big and tasty.

   All the while, his breathing became more and more ragged while, in a
harsh whisper, words I had never thought my father would say filled my
head. "Fucking take Daddy's big cock, baby.  You've been such a good girl.
You deserve a treat.  Yes, move your tongue, Jane.  Make me cum.  And don't
let a single drop go to waste, you sexy little whore.  Mmmmm, yes!"

   Part of me wanted to pull off his cock and tell him, "yes, fuck your
whore's mouth with your huge dick, Daddy," but I worried I would ruin this
little moment where his head was fantasizing about Mom.  But the more he
called me a slut and a whore - along with Daddy's little girl - I found
myself getting more-and-more into this.  His hand moved away from the back
of my head and found my nipple, roughly tweaking the little bud.  I moaned
in response and realized, with his hand gone, nothing was forcing my head
down on his cock anymore.  Except me.  My desire.  My need to make my Dad
cum.

   The hand on my forehead relaxed and I took completely over, sucking my
father deeper than he had attempted to make me.  The hand on my breast
didn't stay there for long.  He moved it down my body and I quickly opened
my legs, letting my father have complete access to my body.

   I nearly came as his hand pushed under my sleep shorts and panties, a
finger sliding between my pussy lips before pushing inside of me.  "Mmm,
you're so fucking wet for Daddy."

   I hummed a response and reached over to grab his long cock.  I didn't
know if I would ever have another chance to suck this monster of a penis so
I tried to push myself to take him as deeply as I could.  I've never had to
deepthroat that much.  Even the few guys that were bigger than Frank
weren't like this.  But as I tried to relax, I claimed more of his
delicious tool as I went lower on it.  And let me tell you that it's not
easy to concentrate when your father's fingers are playing with your pussy,
but I have always tried to be an overachiever.  I think he's always
appreciated that about me.

   But try as I might, I couldn't make his entire dick disappear from view.
I think part of it was the angle or the fact that I needed better control
on my gag reflex.  No worries, though.  Dad was not disappointed.

   "God damn, baby," he said as two fingers pushed inside of my tight
little cunt.  "You're really hungry tonight."

   Yes, Daddy, I am.

   As I went low again on his dick, I tried another method to make sure
every inch of that pussy punisher was going to get attention.  Gripping his
dick, I stroked him in unison as I bobbed my head on his dick, giving him
the occasional twist of my wrist.  He moaned and I heard his hand come down
hard on the armrest hard as I tried every trick I knew on him.  His other
hand continued to toy with my pussy and I realized I was subconsciously
moving my pelvis to meet his fingers.  I was so close to my first orgasm
with someone else in over two years and I wasn't about to stop even if Dad
realized what was happening and tried to put a halt to it.

   But he kept saying my dead mother's name as I licked and nursed on the
head of his cock while stroking the rest.  I reached down - noticing how
wet his boxers were getting - and tried to give his balls some love, but
the way the boxers were stretched, that proved a bit fruitless.  Another
time, maybe.  If he wanted his little girl to do this again.

   I wanted this to last forever in the meantime, but both of us were way
too sex-starved for that to happen.

   "Make Daddy cum, baby," he said in a low, hoarse voice.  He coughed to
clear his throat and continued.  "I need it, honey.  It's been so long."

   Again, I wasn't sure if he was speaking to me, his daughter, or to the
image of his wife in his head.  Regardless, I wasn't going to stop until I
tasted him.  My pussy was on the edge of my highly-sought-after orgasm as
well and I fucked the two fingers he pushed inside of me while his thumb
tried to toy with my clit.  Moving fast, I rolled my hips repeatedly,
trying to beat him to orgasm so I could concentrate fully on coaxing a big
load from his balls.

   Taking a chance, I grabbed his wrist with my free hand and kept it in
place so I could show him I wanted him to fuck my wet pussy harder with his
fingers.  Then, unashamed, I moved the hand to my pussy, pushing his thumb
aside to give my clit more focus.  It wasn't lost on me that I literally
had one hand on my father's dick while the other was on my clit.  At the
same time, the rest of his dick was in my mouth, my tongue swirling over
the side of it while he finger-fucked my pussy hard.  There would be a
long, awkward conversation soon about all of this, but for the moment, I
was as fucking happy as I had been in years.  So what if he was still
calling me by my mother's name.

   "You going to cum for Daddy?" he whispered.  I half-hummed, half-moaned
a response and he said, "Yes, Jane, cum all over Daddy's fingers."

   The weirdest thought hit my brain right before I came.  "If he said my
name instead of Mom's, would I have cum even harder?" As my entire body
seemed to explode and implode at the same time, that thought would have to
be addressed later.

   My hips came to an awkward stop as his fingers kept pushing in-and-out
of my cunt.  My back bridged and my toes curled.  For a moment, everything
stopped aside from Dad's efforts.  And the a loud moan that turned almost
into a muffled scream tried to escape my mouth, though Dad's thick cock
made that difficult.  My body started to shake as my brain went completely
numb.  Every neuron I had seemed to go crazy as lightning bolts traveled
throughout my body.  My pelvis rocked back-and-forth as Dad's fingers
stayed inside me the whole time.  My pussy was trying to milk them as if
they had some juice to give.

   The whole time, he kept whispering things like, "That's good, baby...let
it go...cum for Daddy...I want to taste your juices."

   My orgasm seemed to last several minutes, though in reality, it was over
in a matter of a few seconds.  While I didn't have a Top 10 list of best
orgasms, I'm pretty sure this qualified as the the new #1.

   I pushed his hand away from my pussy to give my hyper-sensitive cunt a
break.  Almost at the same time, I shifted my body so that my stomach was
flat against the couch.  Putting a hand between his far leg and the armrest
while my other hand was closer to me and also flat against the couch
cushions, I bridged up a little to give me a better angle as I focused
completely on making my Dad cum in my mouth.

   Bobbing my head down-and-up with deep strokes, I took as much of his
cock as comfortably possible into my mouth.  When his dick was nearly
completely out of my mouth, I swirled my tongue over the head to collect
any precum that escaped before dropping my head again, sucking his giant
yummy stick.  His dirty talk seemed to come to a halt as he sounded like he
was struggling enough with breathing and words might be too difficult to
deal with right now.  I moaned, knowing the vibrations would only drive him
crazier.

   I have to give him credit.  I'm good at oral and he did an amazing job
lasting this long - especially considering how long it had been since he
had been sucked.  But my jaw was starting to ache and I was far too hungry
for his cum for this to continue indefinitely.  I moved faster and harder,
sucking him deeply as I continued to moan and hum.  I pleaded with him to
orgasm.  Desperately needed his cum in my mouth.

   I heard something.  A sucking sound that wasn't coming from me.  And
then I realized, based on how his arm was cocked as it rested on my
shoulder blade as I moved up-and-down, that Dad had brought his hand to his
face.  In these times, we are told not to do that, but I didn't mind him
sucking my juices from his fingers at all.  Fuck COVID.

   "You...taste...so...good...FUCK!"

   Music to my ears, Daddy.

   My jaw was really hurting now, but then I heard something else. 
Following that f-word, Dad made some sharp intakes of breath.  I knew what
that meant and it only emboldened me to keep sucking him.  He was right on
the edge.  Just needed one final push.

   With a loud grunt that made me smile, Dad started to blow his load into
my willing mouth.  I pulled up and made sure to seal my lips around the
head of my his cock.  I tried to suck down every drop he gave me, but it
was a lot.  Spurt-after-spurt filled my mouth to the breaking point and I
couldn't possibly keep up with the volume.  Cum trickled out of my mouth
and down his shaft.  I felt a little sad that I had let any of it escape.
He was absolutely delicious and I knew that was largely due to who it was
feeding me.  Again-and-again, after each gulp, he re-filled my mouth to the
limit.

   Finally, the onslaught of juice began to fade into a trickle.  I
swallowed what was left with one big gulp, sending the tasty treat down my
throat.  I pulled away and looked down at his cock.  A small drop appeared
at the top so I licked it away.  The helmet shined in the light from the
television.  As I looked beyond it, I saw little white drops on his boxers.
Feeling like I had let him down, I moved down to suck at any of the drops
of cum I saw.  It wasn't much, but I didn't want to leave a mess.

   Licking my way back up his cock, grinning like a happy slut as he caught
his breath, I swirled my tongue around the helmet for a moment just to
drive him crazy.  I couldn't do this for much because it would get too
painful for him, I'm sure, but a little pain is good in my experience. 
Satisfied with the fun torture I gave him, I moved away a few inches and
laid my head on his upper leg as I saw his dick begin to soften.

   For a little while, we both sat motionless.  My pussy was still humming
and I could taste his juice.  I hadn't felt this good in so very long.  I
didn't want this moment to end.  Well, unless it ended with his cock
getting hard again so that he could fuck my cunt until he filled my pussy
with another big load.

   But that's not how life usually goes.  When you do the things that my
Dad and I just did, eventually, you remember why you weren't supposed to do
it in the first place.  After several minutes of enjoying the moment, he
finally spoke.

   "Fuck."

   It wasn't the fuck I wanted.  It wasn't a "fuck, that was amazing." It
wasn't even a "fuck, did that just happen?" And, of course, it especially
wasn't the "let's fuck." No, I was very aware of what this fuck meant.  It
was a guilty fuck.  It was the kind of fuck you say when you know you
fucked up.

   "Fuck." He repeated.  "Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck!"

   Well, now, that's just an excessive amount of fucks.

   "Sarah?" Dad asked.  I looked up at him and we made eye contact.  "Fuck,
fuck, fuck, fuck!"

   He was afraid to touch me, but also felt the need to escape from the
situation as quickly as possible.  So, he pulled his leg - along with his
entire body - away from me.  I caught myself before my head crashed against
the cushion.

   "Dad?"

   But he was already to his feet.  His dick flopped from side-to-side as
he purposely walked away.  Seconds later, I heard his door shut.

   Part of me wanted to go after him.  He needed to know I wasn't mad at
him.  But I was also tired as hell.  I reached over to the table, blindly
trying to find the remote.  Once successful, I turned the television off.
Grabbing the throw blanket that rested on the top of the couch, I curled up
right there.  I told myself I did so because when he wanted to talk about
things, I should be close by.  Truth was after that orgasm, I wasn't sure
my legs even worked.  Plus, I didn't want to leave.  The smell of my father
and his cum was too strong.

   It only took a few minutes for me to fall asleep.

   Please excuse the goofy fucking smile that was on my face.


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