A Move to Daddy's Ch. 02

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The sound of the bedroom door opening woke me. There, standing in the door was daddy, his body glistening with sweat, and wearing only his bikini briefs, the ones he exercised in. I blinked my eyes once, then again, just to make sure I was really awake and not dreaming. I was puzzled. Why was he in my room?

As I rubbed the sleep out of my eyes, I watched as daddy pulled off his briefs. Suddenly, I gasped. He was moving toward my bed and he was erect and hard, his huge cock pointing toward the ceiling. And then he was at the foot of my bed, and I watched as he grabbed the covers and dragged them off. He put his hands on my legs and roughly spread them apart, causing my nightie to ride up my thighs.

"Oh, my God!" I cried out, "Oh, my God!"

Daddy knelt on the bed between my legs. His face was expressionless. He spit in his hand, then I watched as he rubbed the spit over the large, bulbous head of his cock. He put his fist around his cock and roughly pushed the head of it against the lips of my pussy, spreading them apart. He lunged forward, forcing his cock deep into me. I screamed, partially from the pain, and partially from the unexpected shock of what was happening.

Leaning forward on his arms, he began to thrust in and out of my dry passage. I screamed again. His face still showed no emotion. He continued to pound hard into my dry pussy, until gradually I could feel the pain ease as my brain signaled to my body to begin producing lubricant, not because I consciously willed it to, but as a natural bodily reaction, no different than Pavlov's dogs salivating when they heard the bell.

Daddy's breath was now coming in short gasps. With each of his forward thrusts, his pelvis met mine, his cock deep in my pussy. Then he groaned loudly, and I could feel his cum spurting deep into me. He groaned one last time and his strokes slowed, until finally his body was motionless over mine.

He pulled out, and without saying a word, left my room.

*****

During the next few days, a routine developed. Daddy would take me every morning. After his exercises, he would come to my room and throw the covers off my bed and fuck me. After a few days, I learned to set my alarm so I'd have time to get ready for him. I'd play with myself to make sure I was wet before he came upstairs. Sometimes, he'd open the door and I'd have my legs spread wide and my fingers on my pussy. He didn't seem to mind, or even to care.

And daddy would take me every evening. It wasn't always at the same time, or the same place. Maybe I'd be watching TV in the rec room, and he'd walk into the room, and lay me back on the couch and pull down my panties and do it. Another time, I might be standing in the kitchen and he'd approach me from behind and I would hear his zipper coming down, and he'd make me lean over the table while he took me from behind.

There was not much foreplay and not much talk, he just did it. It was as if all I was to him was a receptacle to put his cock in to empty his balls. And after he'd cum, he'd put his clothes back on or pull up his zipper and act as if nothing out of the ordinary had happened, as if he hadn't just fucked his own daughter, as if he was the most normal father in the world.

After the first few days - after the initial shock wore off, an amazing thing began to happen. I began to cum. And I began to cum hard. As he fucked me each morning and each night, I think my body anticipated what was about to happen and I was wet before he entered me, and even though it was always rough and fast, I found myself screaming out in pleasure as he took me, and the orgasms that raced through my body were heavy and intense.

Of course, I thought about all that was going on, about our relationship. I thought about it all the time. It wasn't right, I knew. Was it an abusive relationship? By most standards, it probably would be considered abusive. I sometimes thought how others might see it, a sex starved father molesting his daughter. But it wasn't that way. It wasn't that way at all.

I knew I was free to leave at any time. But in a way, I was satisfied with the way things were going, it was almost a feeling of contentment. And deep down, despite his flaws, I knew daddy was a good man. And even deeper down, I knew I loved him dearly.

And I knew something else. When daddy took me, when he fucked me every morning and every evening, I knew I like it, I knew I needed it, I knew I loved it. If that made me sick, I thought to myself, then so be it.

*****

Daddy rarely ever had dinner at home. As a workaholic, eating at the diner near his office meant he could get an extra few hours of work in each day. He would get home at seven or eight each evening and when the front door opened I'd go to the kitchen and pour him a Scotch.

I'm not sure why I did it, but I'd always try to get ready for him before he came home. I'd stand in front of the mirror in the bathroom, experimenting with makeup, then I'd go to my room and put on different outfits, trying to imagine what would please him.

As each day went by, I became a little more daring with my outfits. I knew it excited him, and I knew, deep down inside, it excited me too. One evening, I met him at the door in a short mini-skirt and blouse. With no bra, I knew the movement of my breasts would turn him on, and with no panties, there would be no impediments in his way when he decided it was time to take me.

I became even more blatant. I found this place downtown that sold all kinds of clothes, and the next evening, I met him in the living room with a bra that had openings in the front that exposed my nipples, and panties that had a slit down the middle so my pussy was fully exposed. He put his briefcase down and took me, right then and there.

I knew it wasn't right. I knew I should feel some sense of guilt, but I couldn't help it, I couldn't help feeling I wanted to turn daddy on, to make him want me.

By now, my classes at the community college had started, and every evening daddy would grill me about them. What do you have to study tonight?, he'd ask, or when is your next quiz? Sometimes, while he was working on the computer in his study, he'd make me sit beside him with my textbook or class notes to make sure I studying.

If I had a question about something in one of my classes, he'd sit in front of his computer until he found an answer for me. The night before an exam, he'd stand in front of me like a drill sergeant, peppering me with questions until he was satisfied I knew enough to get a good grade the next day.

Despite the bizarre nature of our relationship, I realized that I finally had some stability in my life. Better this than my drunken mother back in Baltimore. And for the first time in my life, I was doing good school.

******************

"I have a date tonight," daddy said one morning. I was lying in my bed, my legs spread, his cum dripping out of my pussy. He stood beside the bed, his wet cock hanging over me. I wasn't sure how I felt when he said it. It wasn't jealousy, I was sure. Maybe I was just curious what effect this might have on our relationship. But I think I realized he had his life to live, the same as me.

I was reading in bed when he got home. It was almost midnight. He came immediately to my room and began undressing. I barely had time to get myself ready before he was on me. And then, I sensed it. I could smell her on him. Maybe it was the slight odor of her perfume, or the lingering musky odor of her sex, or maybe it was the fact it took daddy longer to cum, but I knew he'd fucked her that night.

"You did it with her tonight, didn't you daddy?" I whispered, "You did her, didn't you?"

Daddy let out a little moan, and his in and out strokes became faster.

"Yes," he answered softly, "Yes."

"Tell me about it, daddy. Tell me what it was like. Was she good?"

Daddy's breaths were coming faster now.

"Not as good as you, baby," he said in a raspy voice.

"Tell me, daddy," I whispered, my mouth just inches from his face.

"She's good, baby, but not like you. She's more...uptight...more reserved. I have to tell her what to do, to... make her do things. It's the way she is."

"And she likes that, daddy? She likes it when you tell her what to do?"

Daddy let out another moan. By now, his body glistened with a coating of sweat as he continued to pound in and out of me.

"Yes," he hissed, "she's different. She likes to be... to be sort of...told what to do... I think it turns her on."

I don't know why, but I was super aroused. Maybe it excited me knowing he'd already had his cock in another woman that evening, and yet he still wanted to do me. Maybe it was because it made me feel like I was sharing him, sharing him and his cum with someone else. Whatever the reason, as he fucked me, I felt an orgasm building up that finally raced through my body like never before. I screamed, and screamed again as daddy's cum exploded into my shaking body.

*****

Control. That word kept popping into my brain during the next few days. Daddy liked control, I realized, and maybe that caused him to seek out women who were willing to submit to his control. I had submitted in my own way, I knew, but I didn't feel like I'd given up my own identity or that I'd lost my free will.

Maybe it was my way of avoiding the truth, a false rationalization, but I knew that somehow, in one way or another, we're all controlled. Maybe by a landlord who demands his rent every month, or a boss who controls our actions forty hours a week, or even a government that takes a third of our pay away from us.

Daddy was paying all my bills, he fed me, he clothed me, he housed me. He was putting me through college, and making sure I did well in school. Maybe I was avoiding the truth, but I felt, by comparison, the control daddy had over me was nothing. And besides, whether it made me feel guilty or not, I liked it, I liked it when he came into my room each morning and filled me with his cum, and I liked it when he pulled down my panties and made me lean over the couch as he took me from behind. Maybe I was just a slut, maybe I was just a whore, but I knew one thing - when his big cock filled my pussy and he fucked me, and his cum gushed into me, I felt the most pleasure I'd ever known in my life.

*****

"I thought you and me and Janet could go out for dinner this Friday," daddy announced one evening, "just so you can get to know one another."

It must be getting serious, I thought to myself, if he's setting up a formal 'girlfriend meets daughter' meeting.

"Sure," I replied, "I have a better idea. Why don't I cook dinner for the three of us."

"Sounds good to me," he said, "How about some of that lasagna like you made before?"

I smiled. I think daddy knew lasagna was the only thing I could make.

During the next few days, I thought a lot about the upcoming meeting. It would probably be awkward, I was sure. Did she have any clue about daddy and me? And most importantly, how would this effect daddy's relationship with me? And then I had a confusing thought. When he'd been with her that night, and screwed me later, I couldn't get over how turned on I'd been. What did that mean?

*****

"Janet, I'd like you to meet my daughter Erin."

She reached out and shook my hand.

"I'm so glad to meet you," she said, "Tom's told me so much about you."

I could feel a slight blush crossing my face. What had he told her?

"He's told me how proud of you he is, doing so well in college and all," she continued, "and how you two work on your studies every night."

As daddy took her coat, I took a moment to observe her. She was younger than him. Probably thirty, maybe thirty-one to his forty-two. I'd tried to imagine what she'd look like. Daddy had told me she was an executive at some bank, and she looked the part. She was pretty, in a sophisticated, formal kind of way. Black hair perfectly done up. Just the right amount of makeup. She wore a light blue blouse and white pants.

But the thing that surprised me the most was her physique. Maybe subconsciously, I'd expected daddy to come home with a clone of mom. Tall, big breasts, full hips - the characteristics I'd inherited. But Janet was the exact opposite. She was petite, probably three or four inches shorter than me, and slim, with the little mounds of her breasts pressing out under her blouse, and slim hips that seemed to barely hold up her pants.

As I looked at her, a picture suddenly flashed into my brain. It was her, Janet, small and petite, lying naked on her back as daddy's huge cock pounded in and out of her little body. I shook my head to get rid of the picture as the three of us sat down for a glass of wine before dinner.

"I got married when I was twenty," Janet told me during dinner, "I was too young. I didn't really know what I wanted out of life, or even who I was, and the marriage only lasted two years. Since then, I've focused everything on my career."

I told her a little about my life in Baltimore with mom, how I just couldn't get focused, and how happy I was now that now I seemed to be back on the right track. I occasionally glanced at daddy as we ate. For the most part, he didn't say anything. I think he was just happy that Janet and I seemed to be getting along.

All in all, I thought to myself, I'd done an O.K. job with dinner. Janet and daddy both complimented me on it and by the time we'd finished, we were working on our third bottle of wine.

On daddy's suggestion, we took our wine glasses to the living room. Janet sat beside him on the couch, and I sat on an easy chair across from them. I studied them together. In a way, I realized, I was intrigued. I wanted to see how they'd look at each other, to see how they'd interact, how they'd communicate.

As at the dinner table, daddy remained quiet, allowing Janet and I to talk. She was part of a big family, she told me, three brothers and two sisters. As an only child, I was curious to know what that was like, and we talked about families and reunions and how it felt to move away from home for the first time. Daddy seemed attentive to us both, but added little to the conversation. From time to time, he'd fill our wine glasses.

Suddenly, Janet put her glass down on the coffee table and stood up.

"Look, I'd better go now," she announced, "It's eleven, and if I have one more glass of wine, I won't be able to drive."

Sometimes our brains work in peculiar ways. Mine did at that moment.

I looked up and her and said, "Just stay here tonight, Janet. If you and daddy... I mean, don't worry about me."

Janet's face turned red.

"No, don't be silly," she said, "I couldn't... we couldn't..."

"Why not?" I asked.

"It's just that... I don't have anything to wear, I wasn't..."

"I have lots of stuff you can wear," I interrupted, "I'll bet we can even find an extra toothbrush."

I glanced at daddy. Maybe I was imagining things, but it seemed like there was a tiny smile forming at the corners of his mouth.

"I'd better not," Janet said. She turned toward the closet for her coat.

I'm not sure what I was thinking, but I stood up and faced her.

"Janet. Stay here tonight."

I don't know where it came from, but the tone of my voice was almost a command.

She stopped in her tracks and turned toward me.

"Daddy, you want her to stay, don't you?"

There was a pause, then he made a tiny nodding motion with his head.

Janet looked back and forth between us.

"No, I have to..." she started to say as she turned again toward the closet.

I don't know exactly what came over me at that moment; but I stepped toward her and put my arms around her waist to stop her. She let out a little surprised gasp. I put my mouth close to her ear.

"Look, if you're embarrassed because I'm here, don't worry about it. I'd be happy if you stayed. And daddy wants you to stay," I whispered, "you don't want to disappoint him, do you?"

"Look, I've got to go," she said. She tried to twist away from me, but I tightened my arms around her waist.

As I stood there with my arms held tightly around her waist, I felt this sudden, strange feeling of power, almost like I had this mystical, hypnotic control over Janet, as if I had the ability to make her do whatever I wanted. I put my mouth close to her ear.

"And you want to stay, too, don't you?" I whispered.

"I can't... not with... you... his daughter here," she said softly.

"But it's O.K. with me," I whispered back, "if you two want to do it tonight, you can just pretend I'm not here."

"This is crazy," Janet cried out. She struggled to release herself from my grasp, but I held her tight.

"You've done it with him before," I said, "why not tonight? Why not now?"

I glanced at daddy. He was staring at us with a little puzzled expression on his face, as if he wasn't exactly sure what was happening.

"And maybe I would want to watch," I whispered into her ear, "Maybe I would want to watch as daddy and you did it."

"God, you're crazy!" Janet cried out. She violently twisted her body to escape, but my arms remained locked around her. She was breathing heavily from her exertions, and little whimpering sounds started coming out of her mouth.

"Look at him," I said softly, "Look at daddy. He wants you tonight. I know he wants you. And I know you want him too, don't you?"

Janet had stopped struggling, probably resolved to the fact she couldn't overpower me.

"I couldn't...I can't...not with you here," she said in a low, sobbing voice.

"I think you can. I think you will," I whispered in her ear, "I think you'd do whatever you could to make daddy happy, wouldn't you?"

I suddenly became aware that I was the one in control. Daddy sat on the sofa, a confused look on his face, as if he wasn't sure what was happening. Janet moaned and lowered her head. I felt her body go limp, as if all the fight had left her, and I knew that she would do whatever I asked.

I thought for a moment about letting her go, letting her get her coat and run out the door. But I felt my heart pounding in my chest, and lower, I felt that little tingle in my pussy, and I knew I had to continue... to see where this would all lead. I put my mouth next to her ear.

"Let's show daddy your goodies, Janet. I think he'd like that," I whispered.

Keeping one arm tightly around her waist, I used the other to begin unbuttoning her blouse. When she realized what I was doing, she grabbed my arm and pulled it away. I twisted my arm free of her grasp and grabbed one side of her blouse. With one hard tug, the buttons flew off and her blouse hung open.

"No!" she cried out, "This isn't right! No!"

I roughly pulled each side of her blouse off her shoulders, then grabbed the middle of her bra and pulled it up, allowing her breasts to jiggle free. They were like little peaches sticking out of her chest, with little nipples in the center of her areolas, each areola no bigger than the size of a quarter.

Janet lowered her head and covered her face with her hands. Little sobbing whimpers came out of her mouth. I glanced up at daddy. There was no expression on his face as he continued to stare at us.

"Show him your breasts, Janet," I said, "put your arms down so daddy can see your little titties."

She didn't move. I grabbed her wrists and pulled them behind her, causing her chest to thrust forward.

"Good. Now daddy can see your titties," I said, "you like that, don't you, Janet? You like it when daddy looks at your bare titties."

"No," she said, shaking her head, "No."

"Tell me the truth, Janet," I hissed into her ear.

"No...no...no, this isn't right," she moaned.

"Let's find out what daddy thinks about it," I said, still holding her wrists firmly behind her back.