("`-''-/").___..--''"`-._
                     `6_ 6  )   `-.  (     ).`-.__.`)
                     (_Y_.)'  ._   )  `._ `. ``-..-'
                    _..`--'_..-_/ /--'_.' ,'
                   ((('   (((-(((''  ((((
                 K R I S T E N' S    C O L L E C T I O N
		_________________________________________
		                WARNING!
		This text file contains sexually explicit
		material. If you do not wish to read this
		type of literature, or you are under age,
		PLEASE DELETE THIS FILE NOW!!!!
		_________________________________________




			Scroll down to view text













Archive name: dadspap.txt (MF, father/daughter, inc)
Authors name: Carl Manner (cmanner@prodigy.com)
Story title : Daddy's Papers

------------------------------------------------------
This work is copyrighted to the author © 1992-2000.
Please do not remove the author information or make
any changes to this story. You may post freely to non-
commercial "free" sites, or in the "free" area of
commercial sites. Thank you for your consideration.
------------------------------------------------------

DADDY'S PAPERS (MF, father/daughter, inc)
by Carl Manner (c) 1992

**

Author's note: Dear Reader - Several of my stories have 
been stolen and published under the nondeplume of 
"Unknown Author" if you happen to run across a story 
with this title without my name attached please email 
me at: cmanner@prodigy.com. Thank you.

**

As a new mother...and new widow...I felt for Dad when 
Mom died. The whole thing was like a horrible nightmare 
at the time. I had only had Justin a month when Greg 
died at the hands of a drunk driver. I thought I'd never 
stop grieving and the entire time I persevered, both mom 
and dad were there for support and I am amazed to this 
day that I simply just did not die myself. 

Those fourteen months were agony not just for me but 
for my parents...they had liked Greg and our son - while 
not aware of the loss - seemed so much more sad in my 
arms at night as I fed him and tried hard to smile and 
laugh with him. 

Babies are a blessing - this one just happened to be 
the blessing I needed at a time I loathed. 

Thank God for my parents and the friends who helped me 
through those times. My grief support group was 
invaluable at helping me repiece my life together and 
having to move back home for financial reasons at age 
twenty was not simple for us three but...it was 
nostalgic. 

It was just when the nightmare got by us and it seemed 
as though things were improving that Mom got 
sick....diagnosed with cancer - a month or less to live. 

She barely made those 30 days though, and it was 
strange...there was not the horror or grief for her that 
there had been for Greg...maybe because she seemed so 
peaceful about it...so content with the life that she 
had. She was not by any means old...41 is certainly not 
prime-time for death...but oddly, both Dad and I sensed 
a sort of comfort when she finally passed...not a 
happiness...just a sense of relief that she had not 
suffered horribly and that we could cry at our loss but 
be moved by her peace. 

So it was that Dad and I wound up a couple of 
surviving relatives and slowly getting things back 
together. Dad was not afraid of showing his feelings...
he cried...but he was also a strong man and saw no 
reason to wallow....he knew that Mom would have been
best respected by not dying with her. We both took 
this principal to heart as we started to get out again. 

He started to go to local ball-games again with Mitch 
and Wally (his best friends for years now) and no 
longer tormented by the jealousy of their present 
husbands, I started visiting old friends. 

And Justin was turning one. What a wonderful time!!! 

That was when that old memory started to bother me 
again. A peculiar memory about which I was never certain 
how I felt...and sometimes as an adult....was certain it 
had been some bizarre dream or hoax of my youthful 
imagination. 

But illusion or not, as it had been many times here 
and there in my late teens and after Greg and I got 
married, it was there again.

When I was about fourteen, I had been working on a 
project for a local academic fair....a sign for my 
project or something or other...and my marker ran out. 
Out in the yard, Mom and Dad were barbecuing and 
laughing at some radio program so I'd decided to just 
help myself to Dad's office and his office supplies. 

Dad had a huge desk upon which he sometimes laid a 
long blotter so that he could work at his models of old 
cars and I loved the smell of the hickory and the feel 
of the leather chair. Loving nothing better than to 
steal in there whenever I got the opportunity, I'd spin 
in that chair and savor the smell of everything and 
wonder what lurked in those drawers. 

Dad did some writing on the side and sold some of his 
stories to local publications...stories of his youth I 
simply never could bear listening to in whole...and so 
there was always a stack of paper on the desk-top and a 
basket full of waste. 

After finding the markers, I'd sat in the chair 
spinning around, listening intently for the coming of 
either of my parents as I was not supposed to trespass 
here without permission. I could hear them still out at 
the porch barbecuing and I could smell the hamburgers 
cooking and everything seemed wonderful. 

As I had an occasional tendency to do, to see what he 
was writing but not finding anything promising, I'd dug 
into the garbage pail, then noticing some crumpled pages 
at the bottom which seemed to draw me by their 
concealment, I'd fetched them out. Hearing my parent 
call for me, I'd panicked and running through the back 
entrance to the kitchen, round to the foyer and up the 
stairs, I hid them under my pillow. 

Then back down I went. 

Later that afternoon, when Mom and Dad went for a walk 
with the dogs (two very cute matching terriers named 
Fickle and Pickle) I enjoyed what I rarely had - twenty 
minutes with the house to myself. 

With lots of cupboards above a window-seat and ladder 
that slid back and forth for me to climb that Dad had 
built, I had a great room for hiding things. Even 
though it was still a bit girlish for a fourteen year 
old, I liked it..it kept me feeling young and innocent 
even though my mind was just unraveling the wonders of 
sex and lying and cheating (I had copied off a friends 
math test once and felt terribly guilty for it). 

Innocence going...going.... 

Anyhow, knowing full well there was nothing to see, 
but pleased with my petty thievery and excited by my 
successful getaway, I retrieved dad's papers.

Only there was something to see....something to see 
indeed. 

Expecting the usual, `When I was ten...blah blah...', 
I read it unwittingly, but discovering a frightening 
tale of a fourteen year-old daughter her father was 
starting to fantasize about, and though feeling horrible 
about said fantasies...still found them 
instead....arousing. 

I'd never thought of my father that way and the 
reality was just much too frightening for me to digest, 
so I did not get far into the story before I was shaking 
and feeling overwhelmed. 

Hiding the papers in one of the very top cupboards 
where I knew even I rarely looked, stuffing them into a 
box of old Barbies I no longer played with...I just sat 
there wide-eyed. 

GOD! 

I know I felt uncomfortable around Dad for awhile, but 
somehow, I just forgot about it. Sometimes, the old 
memory would flutter back into my brain but for the most 
part it was a dream I had, a strangely erotic but 
frightening dream. 

Thinking back now, I think I was as terrified about 
how it made me feel as I was about how it made HIM feel. 
Children aren't supposed to feel those things about 
their parents - I had hardly felt them all that 
thoroughly about boys I knew at school, my age. 

Anyhow, the only times it seemed to come back were 
those times when Dad and Mom would be admiring my beauty 
and Dad would say something like, "You sure have grown 
into a gorgeous young woman,"; it would crop up out of 
nowhere and I'd feel that same blend of eroticism and 
fear and then it would be gone. 

Sometimes, I would look into the mirror at my blonde 
hair and blue eyes and admire my slender and shapely 
figure and think how it was true. I was pretty, very 
desirable. And I guess Greg had thought so too, because 
he could barely wait until our wedding night. 

But then, it would all slip away and life would go on. 

And the years passed. 

And now I was thinking about it again and the house 
felt empty without anyone but me: Dad out at a game, 
Greg gone, Mom gone, Justin with Greg's parents for the 
day. 

Not sure if I had left that box of Barbies or had 
thrown them out, out of curiosity, I went into my room 
and getting on the first rung of the white ladder (it 
still held me), I opened that cupboard. Even though I 
was only 21, it all seemed so long ago. 

To my surprise and sudden anticipation, just where I 
had left it that day, the box was still there. 

Were those papers really there? Had I thrown them out? 
Had it all been some dream? 

But the fear and eroticism of this secret seemed to 
excite me and I felt suddenly....alive. Almost too 
terrified to open it, I took the box down and opening 
it, there beneath the Barbie dolls, even more wrinkled 
from my handling of them that day when I shoved them in 
there, were those papers. 

Pulling them out gently, I lovingly eyed the pages...
the words. 

Yes. This was it. This was that story, and now reading 
it and realizing how well it was written, I knew it was 
indeed his style (as I now loved and admired his work) 
and yes...there was no mistaking...this was my father 
and me in this story. 

Terrified again, just as I was when I was fourteen, 
but able to handle the graphic images of carnal 
indulgence, I was much more fascinated. In fact, I was 
able to mostly put aside my other complicated feelings 
and really become aroused by it all....somehow imagining 
the people in this story...as people no longer my father 
and myself, but people we once were. 

And admittedly, I think it aroused me more than I had 
ever been aroused before. Ever! 

Putting the pages and the box back, I spent most of 
that day thinking about the whole thing in my mind, not 
savoring the story but instead the thinking behind why 
my father wanted to so passionately have sex with me 
when I was fourteen. From what I knew, a normal father 
with a healthy sex life, he had no other strange sexual 
problems. I was pretty then...sexy I suppose in a 
way....boys seemed to like me and I knew there was 
talk...boys making up stories about me. But I was pure 
as the driven snow....that's what Greg said....that's 
what turned him on so much...that I was so....sweet. 

Was that Dad's attraction? I had wondered a few times 
if all fathers didn't have this secret urge to do these 
things with their daughters. Did they? Was my dad just 
average that way? 

Had it been just a phase? 

Anyhow, these were the things I wrestled with that day 
and by bedtime, I was glad to get back to the pages and 
reread them again, this time allowing myself a little 
less room for morality so that I could get aroused 
enough to masturbate (something I had only done three 
times in my whole life, all of them being after Greg's 
death when I was sexually frustrated). As I did, my head 
was filled with the images of the story...this girl..who 
had been me...eagerly performing oral sex on her 
father...once my father. 

GOD! Horribly mixed with guilt and shame, parts of 
those feelings blended into the excitement and somehow 
made it more arousing. 

Afterwards, with the arousal quelled, the whole thing 
seemed awfully silly and I laughed a bit. Elektra I was 
not!! 

But the next four days were not much different. Life 
was `normal' enough, but in the back of my mind, I 
started wondering if Dad still saw me that way, still 
wondered himself and invariably, like some sex-crazed 
teen ashamedly hiding under the covers to peek at Dad's 
Playboy, this tiny little obsession brought me back to 
those pages again and again. 

Only this Playboy was much more torrid, much more 
taboo. 

Thinking of those images, each time I masturbated, it 
got a little easier to feel a little less shame and a 
little more humor. After all, silly as it all was, it 
was not like he'd molested me. Truth is, maybe if he had 
approached me back then, I might have even enjoyed it. 

Might have? Probably. 

It probably would have scared the hell out of me, but 
from a sexual standpoint at that point of my life, it 
probably would have been terribly exciting. 

All the same, I was glad he hadn't. Who knows, maybe 
it would have destroyed me. 

No, this was much more innocuous, even laughable. GOD! 
Mom must be turning over in her grave! I sometimes 
thought. 

Both Dad and I were just....insane...that was it. A 
little crazy. 

Insisting that even a 14 month-old could appreciate 
it, the next day, Dad took Justin to the zoo. I guess 
he was right because Justin had a great time. 

And I had an interesting time of my own. 

Like the child I had been, trespassing into Dad's 
office now equipped with a computer instead of a 
typewriter, I spun in his chair, rooting through the 
innocent papers in his waste basket and the various 
things in his desk. 

This all inspired me. Blushing and giggling like I 
was playing some girlish game of Spin The Bottle, 
writing some love letter to a boy I knew loved me,
going into Word Perfect on the computer, I started
writing. 

Only this love letter was much more a story, and much 
more...well... 

It was about a man and his daughter whose respective 
spouses had died and the girl had found some story about 
her father and her when she was fourteen and now, she 
was just lusting to do the dirty deed, to throw moral 
caution to the wind and together do every unthinkably 
taboo act a daughter and her father could do! 

When I was finished I read it over and though I was 
terribly turned on, I erased it. 

Gone, thank God...if Dad ever saw it, he'd probably 
have a heart attack and die. Although only 42 and 
healthy and virile, handsome and happy, everyone has 
their limits. 

Putting Justin to bed that night, I returned 
downstairs just as Dad came out of his office. It
struck me then that there might be a way to retrieve 
documents....weren't there people with that sort of 
know-how? 

Was Dad one of them? 

No!! And even if he was, having no idea I'd even used 
his computer, why would he be looking? Relieved at 
this, I made myself some tea and started reading the 
paper. 

Dad was flushing the nearby toilet and he came into 
the kitchen. 

"Write anything?" I asked a bit nervously...out of 
guilt I guess. 

"No. Actually I was reading. Is this still hot?" he 
asked pointing to the kettle. 

I nodded and started reading the comics. 

"I love these computers," he said and trying not to 
tremble, I picked up my tea. GEEZ! You'd think I was ten 
and had just broken his model and was hoping he hadn't 
found out. "They're idiot proof for old people like me. 
If you hit the wrong key and do something stupid, 
there's always a way around it." 

As he stirred in sugar, the tension in the room did 
not belong only to me. 

Dad sipped his tea. "Take that Word Perfect program. 
I was writing on it once - something for a local paper. 
I had been working on it for about an hour and hit the 
wrong key and BAM! Gone! I just about put my fist 
through the screen!" 

Seeing this somehow...very distantly inferring 
something ...ghostly ... I asked nervously, "What did 
you do?" 

"I called Mitch because his son's a technician for the 
machines. He told me the program has its own saving 
system. If you've been writing and you haven't saved it 
for sometime, it just kicks in and saves the writing 
into a nameless back-up file." 

OH GOD! My heart leapt into my throat as my hand 
almost zipped the cup off the counter. I had never been 
so terrified in my life!! 

"So I turned the machine back on when he called and 
started leafing through the files. There it was, a 
back-up file! It wasn't the whole thing...but it was 
most of it, so I didn't have to start from scratch. I 
just had to finish the last few paragraphs." 

"Uh...that's...great...it uh..." 

His hand went to my wrist and before I could say a 
word, Dad pulled me forcefully but not harshly from the 
chair, his hand pushing gently at my shoulder. 

Terrified and suddenly aroused, I complied without 
certainty what was happening, and suddenly, I was on my 
knees in front of him, his hands unfastening his pants 
excitedly - nervously - and as I watched, in front of 
me, his erect penis was there, his hand on the back of 
my head drawing me towards it. Guiding it to my lips, 
he said, "Suck it Karen...please, darling, suck it!" 

As though it had a mind of its own, my mouth opened 
willingly, and he slid in, filling me with his forbidden 
member. Its taste, the fullness and heat suddenly 
excited me beyond reason... 

"Oooo....that's it Karen...suck Daddy's cock...." 

Referring to himself as `Daddy' struck a chord and 
excited me even more. Wrapping my hand around the base 
of his cock, I slid up the head of him and then back 
down. 

"GOD! KAREN! I can't believe this is really 
happening...I never thought...it was just so...wrong." 

Pulling away nervously, excited at our breach of 
morality as I pumped his cock with my fist. I said 
breathlessly, "You've wanted me to do this for a long 
time, haven't you? Is it good?" 

"Mmmmmm....its incredible," he replied, stroking my 
hair. 

"Am I sucking you good, Daddy...is your little girl 
doing it the way you want?" I played with him, enjoying 
the role of myself only younger. 

"GOD! You're fantastic...." and as his hand pushed me 
back down over his cock, I squealed playfully as he 
thrust deep into my mouth. 

GOD! I could hardly believe this was happening....we 
were really nuts!!! 

Pantingly, Dad pumped his cock into my mouth. "That's 
it baby...suck Daddy's cock....oooooo...yeah...that 
feels good....I love watching it go in....love watching 
you suck it! Do you like it Karen....is Daddy's cock 
good?" 

GOD! This whole thing was so filthy and I was loving 
it....what was wrong with me??? Oh...who cared!!! I kept 
wanting to think....just enjoy it...you know you want 
to. 

And I did. 

Pausing again, pumping him with my fist again, I said 
in a girlish voice..."God Daddy....its so big...I like 
it how it feels in my mouth....its 
so...bad...so....naughty....", then excited by my own 
words, I gulped him back down again. 

"Mmmmm" Dad moaned. "GOD! I'm going to cum if you keep 
doing that....whoa....slow down..." 

Withdrawing him, I pumped him with my fist again. "Do 
you want to fuck me, Daddy....is that what you want to 
do? Want to fuck your little girl..?" 

"GOD KAREN! This is so......" 

My voice and manner normal, I stopped and looking up 
at him, said, "Kinky! But it's what you want, isn't 
it?" 

"You sure you're fine with it...is it scaring you...I 
just don't want to..." 

"Dad....I wouldn't be doing it if it wasn't what I 
wanted....I know it's weird...but God..I'm just so 
turned on... all I want to do...is...enjoy it..." I was 
nervous as I said it; aside from my moral fiber which 
was still providing that exciting side of `this is 
incest...this is wrong...' to the whole episode, most of 
me meant it.

With this, Dad took my hand from his cock and used it 
to spin me like we were dancing. Putting me on my hands 
and knees, I could hear him rooting around for something 
in a nearby drawer. 

Finding the scissors, in seconds, he had cut a huge 
whole in the crotch of my jeans just like in my story and 
exploring me feverishly, plunged his finger deep into my 
wet crevice. "Dad!!! You're in me... right 
inside...ooo...yeah...deeper ....rub me, Daddy..." 

Gyrating against him, I moaned as my hands pressed 
against the linoleum and as I rocked on Dad's pumping 
finger, another finger joined to rub at my clitoris. 
"Don't stop," I panted, "Do both...yeah like 
that....GOD! Dad! This is incredible....GOD! Fuck 
me....I can't wait...fuck me please..." 

Dad seemed to have the same feeling of impatience! I 
felt his finger slip from me and his cock pushing into 
me right away. "GOD! DADDY! Ooooo...that feels good... 
all the way...push it in...fuck me, Daddy...." Filling 
me and then starting to plunge deeper into me, he 
started pushing in, pumping, his powerful hands pulling 
my waist so his cock could lunge deep into my grateful, 
forbidden crotch. "Yeah...that's it, Daddy...fuck 
me...fuck your little girl...fuck her harder...yeah...
fuck me Daddy...ram it right in me..yeah...GOD!....GOD!
FUCK ME DAD! FUCK ME!!" 

Enjoying the image of my father fucking me at 14 to 21 
back to 14 as he fucked me, I was screaming and shouting 
as my excitement built. It was incredible! I knew how 
filthy the whole thing was...this was not like either of 
us...we weren't like that...but somehow... It was just 
so unbelievably erotic, and in spite of all else... 
physically...sexually...it was just great sex!! 

Dad panted as he kept pounding into me. "How about my 
fucking you up the ass..." The thought had never been 
arousing to me before but I had read it in his story. 
How when I was younger, he'd really had a thing for my 
ass, how much he'd wanted that part of his fantasy. By 
now, I realized how erotic it was and..."Yeah....fuck me 
up the ass now," I said. 

Dad withdrew anxiously and poised his cock at my 
crevice. Feeling him there and suddenly, it aroused me 
much more. My body bracing against the intrusion, his 
cock pushed into me as I gasped for air and reconsidered 
this invasion. 

"Do you want me to stop?" Dad asked, concerned. 

No. Yes. No. Yes. 

"Might as well go all the way," I gasped...but hurry," 
I panted. 

Dad pushed hard then and my throat releasing against 
the pleasurable pain, I groaned as his cock slid 
completely into me and then started pumping. 

By now, the pain was subsiding and the feel and 
thought of my Dad fucking my ass was just delicious. 
God, it was incredible! Once the pain was gone - (and 
there was still a twinge of it here and there) - the 
feel of him filling me like that while his hand rubbed 
my clit just drove me crazy. Hair flailing, I started 
rocking, my hands red against the linoleum as he rammed 
into me again and again. 

GOD! If this was incest and immoral...fine...but how 
was I not supposed to love it??!! Being ass-fucked 
while Dad rubbed me that way, I thought I was going to 
absolutely die from pleasure...and of course, that it 
was my Dad, and we both wanted it and it was wrong, and 
we were such moral people....normally....this was just 
like some wild roller coaster ride into a sexual 
DisneyWorld of depravity! 

"You like that...don't you," he was panting. "God 
Karen...you're really into this...do you want me to 
cum...I have to stop now if you want me to wait." 

I wanted him to cum inside me all right, but knowing 
at his age, Dad might not have the stamina to cum twice 
let alone three times, I begrudgingly told him to stop. 

Dad's withdrawal was pleasurable but saddening in a 
way. I had never done this before and it had been 
incredible!! But as he picked me up by the waist and 
sat me on the counter, I was not disappointed for long. 
From the hole he had made, down my thighs, his hands 
tore my jeans right off and into shards on the floor so 
that only the areas around my waist remained. What was 
left of my panties went too, and he bit into my crotch, 
his hand on my thighs as he hoisted them over his 
shoulders plunge his tongue into my forbidden flesh. 

"God!" I gasped and panting, never before imagining 
anything so lewd and exciting, watched wide-eyed as he 
covered my crotch with his mouth. Shoving his tongue 
into it, as I braced backwards against the counter-top 
and arched my back to get closer to him, he licked my 
insides. Bucking and whimpering, I was caught up in a 
tidal wave of pleasure as he sucked on me, my hips 
shivering and gyrating, my thighs heightening as he 
licked at my clit, thrusting his tongue into me again 
and again. I could feel the whole current in my hips 
and pelvis come at me as I watched him feverishly suck 
on me and I threw my head back and howled. "GOD! DAD! 
I'M GOING TO CUM!!!. DAD!! YEAH!! DAD!" My whole body 
shook and my hips were bucking wildly as I had the most 
exciting orgasm I have ever had. I kept whimpering as 
he brought me through it.... 

"GOD!" I panted as my legs slid from his shoulders. 

Dad pulled me off the counter and down into a kneeling 
position in front of him. His hands pushed me over his 
cock and feeling excited at the thought of bringing him 
to climax, I started bobbing fiercely, not the least bit 
concerned with my nudity or my knees or my aching 
neck... 

"GOD Karen!...suck me off GOD! Suck my cock...yeah..." 

I didn't need this encouragement but it certainly 
helped. I was eager now for the inevitable portion of 
this ....swallowing Dad's sperm. I had never done it to 
Greg and I still was not fond of the taste but I was 
going to savor this, only because it was the cherry on 
this sundae of taboo. Swallowing my Dad's cum! 

I didn't have to wait long. After another minute or 
so, Dad panted, "Oh GOD! Yeah...I'm cumming..." and 
eagerly, to leave as much room as possible, I went up to 
the tip of his cock to catch a mouthful of forbidden 
semen. 

It spurted into my mouth onto my tongue and savoring 
the smooth thick heat, swallowed it as two more spurts 
erupted into my mouth. 

"Oh GOD!" he panted. "Swallow it baby....swallow 
Daddy's cum!!" 

Dad was obviously excitedly-surprised by my 
enthusiasm. Three more spurts squirted out onto my 
tongue and I swallowed them, relishing the sensation and 
taste. 

BUT GOD! It was just the whole thought....my Dad's 
cock...my Dad's cum...it was just all so....nasty. 

Licking my lips as the final dribbles of semen went 
down my throat, I withdrew, pumping Dad's cock as I 
leaned back on my haunches. 

Justin was crying in the monitor. 

"I better get that," I said softly. 

Dad nodded. 

THE END 

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~
This story was written as an adult fantasy.  The author
does not condone the described behavior in real life in
anyway shape or form.  Anyone tempted to act out any of
the scenarios in this story;  should seriously consider
seeking professional help.
~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~
Kristen's collection - Directory 13