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In Love with Daddy

By: spicylatina1991



Hi, I'm Taylor, a 28 year old married man with a 4 year old baby boy. You might say that I am just your everyday Joe. I watch football, love to barbecue, go to work to earn bread money for my little family, and I enjoy sitting down in a sports grill with the fellas to have some beer and talk chicks. My wife Becca is stunning, my boy Alexander is growing fast right before my eyes, we live in a nice middle class suburban neighborhood, and I find my work fulfilling. Just an average guy—a dime a dozen. But in reality that is only a part of me. In fact it's only the outer shell. For hidden away deep inside of me I have a dark secret: I am a closet homosexual. And I am in love with my dad.

It all started—well, at least I think it all started here—after Mom died when I was 19. She got in a car accident on her way to work one early morning. I was devastated, shocked, and although it was nearly Midterms in my sophomore year of college I decided to rush home to be with Dad and my sisters back at home for the funeral. Those were hard times. Emotionally strenuous for all of us. I was about to book a hotel room for the week long stay ahead of me but Dad insisted on me staying with him. So I agreed and he set up the guest bedroom for me and everything else in terms of arrangements for the funeral went on track. The first few days of my stay were totally normal so I won't talk about those. But something happened the night before the funeral, something totally unexpected: for the first time in my life I found myself looking at my father—grieving though he was—in a not so son-like way. Here's how it went down:

I was sitting there on the couch in the living room with one of my textbooks open in front of me, bored out of my mind, when a knock came at the door and Dad quietly entered.

"Hey Dad," I said, putting the book away onto a side table. "How are you? Have a seat."

He smiled a kind of sad smile and sat down on the couch right next to me, close like he wanted to whisper something to me. I scooted away towards the arm of the couch a bit but I didn't have much room there.

"Taylor, I want to thank you for everything you've done to help," he said softly. He was turned so that his knees and his chest were facing me at a slight angle.

"Dad, it's nothing," I said, and turned towards him. "Everything ready for tomorrow?"

He looked towards the ceiling and then returned to look upon my face again. "Yeah it is," he said. "All set . . . I wish I didn't have to keep on thinking about it though. My mind's a blur! I need to get thinking about something else." He chuckled.

"Hmm . . ." I took my eyes off of him and looked at the T.V. in front of us, with a DVD player on a stand just below. "How about we watch a movie tonight? Just like the old days?"

He pursed his lips, hesitant. Finally: "Okay, son," he said, smiling now and settling down. "Let's watch something. Anything you want. I don't care."

After searching through his somewhat scanty DVD collection we decided on something and flipped it on. I don't remember the name of the movie. But I do remember Dad, and how my feelings for him first began to bud as we sat there in the dark watching it.

It started like this: He had scooted up right next to me on the couch, as I stated before. That was fine, but throughout the film it seemed like he was getting closer to me every time I turned to look at him in the dull light coming from the T.V. It seemed that I could feel his body heat against me. I didn't mind all of this, enjoying the warmth since it was a little drafty in the room. 

Now about halfway in the movie we suddenly became closer—a lot closer—since he raised his arm and put it around my back, placing his left hand on my shoulder. I shuddered at the feel of it but looking at his unturned face in the dark I noticed—for the first time, really—the sadness in those brown eyes, the loss this man has just suffered. I felt a wave of pity for him, and wanted him to be okay, to be comforted in his time of greatest need. I smiled at him and leaned deep into his open chest, and took his hand with both of mine. I began to massage it, locking and then unlocking fingers with him. I turned to look at him and he, in turn, turned his eyes towards me and smiled.

About five minutes later and I felt him leaning over to face me again at that same angle that he had at the beginning right when he had sat down with me. I kept my eyes on the screen but from their corners I saw him gazing on me. He reached out towards me with his right hand (his left being over my shoulder) and placed it softly around me towards my left side, just above my hip. Once there, I felt his thumb begin to roll over my skin, back and forth, and his hand slowly sliding up and then down again towards my hip. I shivered at the touch of his thumb against my stomach, and inside of my chest just above it my heart was thundering. He was, for these first few moments, still staring at me. I dared not turn to look into his eyes—those sad eyes. Finally he turned again to the T.V.

Gradually, my heart calmed and I started to like his hands on me, his left on my shoulder clasped in my own two hands as I continued to massage them, his right on my side sliding over my hip with his thumb caressing my stomach. I felt so comfortable then, and let my body melt into his warm embrace. In that position we went through the rest of the movie, though I wasn't paying any attention to it anymore, just to those soft hands, delicate fingers. I didn't even try to move even after the credits started rolling. We just sat there against each other enjoying the peaceful moment, listening to the music pouring from the dark screen.

"So . . ." Dad said after the last of the white lines on the screen had disappeared. "How did you enjoy the movie?"

"It was good," I said, lying. I hadn't even grasped the plot. It was all just a blur of cowboy dressed people flying across the screen jabbering about God knows what. "So . . ."

"Yup . . ." he said. "So . . . I guess we probably got to get to bed right?"

I sighed. "Yeah, suppose so." I rose my head and turned to look into his face again, the light from the DVD menu shining brightly upon it now. He looked back at me, his eyes serious, though not quite as sad as before. "Dad . . ."

"Thanks for . . . being there for me, Taylor," he said now slowly, and swallowed. His eyes, I noticed, passed over down my face all the way to my lips. "You are a good son."

With that, he let go of me and brought his left arm back towards his side again. I brushed back my hair with my hand and watched him as he got up from the couch now. I caught myself just then looking straight at his butt as he reached the T.V. and bent over to take out the DVD. I scanned the jean-clad bumps twice, and then quickly raised my face to his as he turned around.

"Goodnight, then," he said. He opened his lips as if he were about to say something else but then hesitated. "See you tomorrow." I watched him as he walked out of the room leaving me there, exhausted on the couch.

A few minutes later and I was up and preparing the hide-a-bed. The funeral was to be in the morning so I would have to get up real early. Sleep would be appreciated if I could get some. As I was about to get into the covers a picture on the wall caught my eye: it was me and Dad on a trip to Washington D.C. a few years back. In the picture his arm was around me and we were both smiling. Looking at my father's face made me smile and I felt my heart jump, and my limbs filled with excited energy. I bit my lip and ran my fingers over my father's photo, imaging that I was there again with him, in his arms. I swallowed hard. What was I thinking? I asked myself. Did I have butterflies in my stomach just now? I put the picture down and got into bed. After turning off the light I gently ran a hand over my stomach where his thumb had caressed a couple hours before. 

"Am I . . .?" I started to ask myself aloud. "Am I . . . excited by Dad?"

A horrifying thought, yes, but somehow when I said it aloud, and remembered the feeling of those hands on me, I was filled with a kind of exhilarating power, and felt like getting up right then and leaping high into the air. The taboo of it, the forbidden fruit, my father. All of it, with accompanying images, ran through my head all night and it was only far into the early morning that I finally fell asleep.

The funeral the next morning was pretty normal, except that it was hard to talk with Dad. It's like there was a clamp over my throat and I'd get real nervous around him. It seemed like he felt the same way. And he kept on looking at my lips, and I swear that I saw him looking at my ass once, in the church of all places. Maybe I just imagined that. I don't know.

I left town that night since I had work the next morning real early, Sunday, and then school—my Midterms in fact—started on Monday. Dad was really preoccupied with all of the relatives at the funeral so I just rushed back home in my little car, packed my stuff, and began the long drive back to school.

The years passed, I finished up my degree in Nursing, landed a great job at an Emergency Room in the same city where I went to school, and I met and fell in love with a beautiful blonde named Rebecca—Becca for short. Me and Becca were living out of an apartment but times were good and we had our first and only child, Alexander. Everything was pretty much normal. I still thought, often in fact, of that night with Dad and how his hand against my stomach had felt, and how the butterflies had bounced around inside. I called him often but saw him seldom, and nothing abnormal passed between us. A few years after Alex was born I began to view pornography. Not just any porn though, but gay porn, and my favorite (if I could find it) was gay incest porn. I had to do it all behind my family's back, of course. At every opportunity I would go online and masturbate. I still had sex with my wife, but I found myself enjoying it less and less. She was beautiful and had great breasts and a super personality—all a guy could ask for—but she just didn't excite me anymore. I only got excited now at seeing or reading things online about horny gay brothers or, the thing that really got me going, father and son sex. It thrilled me so much to imagine that and worse, to spend moments in self-pleasure imagining how it would feel to have my own father sucking on me, pounding his penis into me, of kissing those soft tender lips of his. I began more and more to crave him, but for a long time nothing happened outside of my own mind. 

Everything changed though when I finally convinced Becca that we should move back to our hometown, and closer to Dad. That's where I pick up this story:

"Hey Dad," I said as I approached him at the restaurant where we had agreed to meet up.

He smiled and spread his arms wide and I fell into him for a very close hug. A memory of a thrill sped through my veins at his touch. We sat down, looked at the menu and ordered, all the while just talking and getting caught up with what not. It had been a long time since I had last seen him, and longer since I had been alone with him. Well, alone if you count all the people here in the restaurant.

"So Dad, now that I'm back home we can hang out," I said, and sipped my Coke.

"Yeah, I'd like that, Taylor," Dad said. "What are you doing this weekend . . . maybe Saturday?"

"Hmm . . . well we'll be all unpacked by that afternoon," I said. "We are almost finished now, actually. Why, what did you, uh, have in mind for Saturday?"

"Well," he began. "I usually play racquetball on Saturday afternoons. I've got some friends who play with me but this week they're all busy. I was originally planning on just going anyway to practice but if you want—it's fine if you don't—but if you want to you can come along . . . I have an extra racquet."

"Oh yeah, Dad," I said. "Yeah, sure. I'd love to. Let's plan on it!"

So we planned on it, and Saturday finally came, and he and I drove to the gym and played an hour of racquetball.

"Wow, good game, Dad," I said, wiping my forehead with a small white towel as we walked back towards the locker room. "You're sure in shape for an old guy." We both chuckled.

We were the only two in the locker room that night. I went to my locker and started to take out my bag when Dad said behind me, "You want to shower up?"

I halted and put down my bag. I turned towards him and found that he had already taken off his sweat-drenched shirt. He was ripped! I wasn't joking when I said that he was in shape! Giant pecs, hard nipples, rivets in his stomach, tan skin. I knew he was fit but not so muscular. His sweat dripped in beads down his chest making it shiny in the florescent light from above. I swallowed hard.

"Uh, yeah," I said. "I guess we should, huh?"

"Yeah, I don't want to get my car all sweaty," Dad said. "I brought some soap if you don't have any . . . Irish Spring. Good stuff."

"Okay."

I slowly removed my own shirt and watched him sit down on a bench and remove his sports shoes and his socks. He stood up, half facing me, and in one smooth motion pulled down his gym shorts. I stared on wide-eyed as he bent over—his hard tight ass coming into straight on view—and grabbed his shorts and briefs from the floor and placed them in his locker. He turned to face me all the way and I saw his penis. It dangled limply against his thigh, his balls hanging beneath. It was long too, and wide, vein bumps all along the flaccid tan shaft, black hair all surrounding it.

"Are you okay, son?" he asked.

"Uh," I quickly brought my eyes to look up into his. I made as straight and normal face as I could. "Yeah I'm fine, Dad. Just, uh, zoned out a bit. Kinda tired, ya know."

"That's okay," he said. "You coming?"

I nodded quickly, nervous. The butterflies were at it again. I bent over and took off my Nike's and my socks. Standing back up again, I took another look at him and saw him watching me, his hand on one hip, looking like a Greek statue. I felt so embarrassed that I was so puny compared to him. I was fit, yes, but not ripped like an Adonis! Nevertheless, after a moment, I put my thumbs at my shorts and pulled them all the way down and kicked them off immediately following. 

My penis—big but not incredible like his—flopped out against my thigh. I instantly felt it twitch, and looking down upon it I saw that it was starting to fill up with blood, started to get hard. Dammit! I thought. I gotta think of something else!

I walked just behind him as we headed towards the standing showers in the next room. I tried to not think of what was happening here, tried not to look down at those tight hot buns directly in front of me, but I simply couldn't. The temptation was too high. I so wanted to reach out and touch that butt, to caress it like his hand had caressed my stomach that day several years ago. But I didn't. After all, he didn't seem to be getting too excited in seeing me. What would he think if he found out that I fantasized about him, jerked off to him, wrote erotic stories about him? I couldn't take the risk of an approach, not yet at least.

He lead me to a corner of the shower area and put his soap down upon a little ledge there. Turning towards me—that enormous penis facing me again, tantalizing my eyes—he reached with one hand and twisted the knob on the shower. Water came pouring out as he turned beneath it. I took the one right next to him, almost forgetting what was happening since I was so nervous and so embarrassed. I did the best I could to not show him my excitement, but I couldn't help but notice that my penis was rapidly enlarging between us as I soaped myself up and as I stole glances at him doing the same, at that perfect Olympian body glistening in the warm steamy water. He looked at me then, those big brown eyes directly onto my face, but then, as I watched him, his eyes trailed down my body—only very quickly, like he was only taking a guilty peek. The mere thought that he might be checking me out, his own son, was enough to harden my penis the rest of the way. It was now hard as rock and pointing straight up towards him, right in his view. I turned away from him as fast as I could and then, closing my eyes, tried to think of things that would make "it" go down.

"Taylor," Dad said now just behind me. He must have taken a couple of steps closer to me. I could feel him there, inches away from me.

"Yeah, Dad?" I said, not turning.

I almost fell over when, totally unexpected, I felt him place his hands at my naked sides. I shivered even though the water was warm—too warm in fact. He didn't stop there though. He caressed my side and his fingers explored the region around the edges of my stomach, and he slowly slid his hands lower on my waist down onto my hip, only inches away from my rock hard and completely and embarrassingly erect cock! I know that there must have been pre-cum dripping from my penis just then. I was absolutely dazzled by his sensuous touch.

"Taylor," he repeated, his breath just behind my neck now. "Do you want to come over to my place and watch a movie with me, like we did that night before your mother's funeral?" I took his hands in mine and guided them slowly over the middle of my stomach. "I enjoyed it so much. You don't know how much I enjoyed it."

I was having trouble breathing. I thought that I might die just then, struck by pleasure itself! I managed out, "Uh, yeah, Dad . . . how about tomorrow night—oh wait, uh, that doesn't work actually . . ." Damn wife! I thought just then. She always has to make me do things that I don't want to do. When was I ever free anymore? "Um, how about, Wednesday night—no, afternoon, I mean. Wednesday afternoon?"

His hands, those caressing, fondling hands beneath mine, over my stomach! I closed my eyes and tried to hold back the orgasm that I knew would come if this kept up much longer. Oh God!

"Sure," he said now. "Wednesday . . . at 5 I am free."

"Okay," I replied. "5 okay, Wednesday it is . . . I always wanted—"

"Hey Mike!" a man's voice said from somewhere behind us, interrupting me. "What's up?"

Dad let go of me and I could hear him turning around very quickly. "Oh, hey Bob, just showering up after a tough game of racquetball with my son here."

The situation was so completely and absolutely anti-climatic that my penis drooped again in no time and I had turned around to see my father shaking hands with another man about his same age who was just as nude as us, but less fit, I'm sorry to mention. It took away all the excitement of the situation and while the two talked about whatever it was they were talking about I exited the shower.

The drive home was quick. We didn't say much to each other, only listened to the radio a little bit. Then, saying goodbye until Wednesday, we parted ways as he dropped me off at my house where Becca was waiting for me to fix the air conditioner as I had promised. Bitch.

I jacked off every night the next four nights. On one of them Becca had wanted to make love and so she had got all dressed up in some fancy black velvety lingerie for me to try and excite me, and I did appreciate her efforts, but it didn't excite me much at all. She lay on the bed above my body sucking me off and all the while I could not think of anything except those big fatherly hands rubbing around on top of my stomach in the shower that day. That thought turned me on enough that I finally came and so Becca thought it was her. 

After she had gone to sleep I lay there thinking about what I would do—what I could do—about her and the boy. And what made it worse is that I was not at all sure that Dad was as into me as I was into him. Maybe he just wants comfort, not sex. He is a sensitive guy, I think. I hardly got any sleep that night, especially since I knew that it was the night before our Wednesday afternoon plans.


In Love with Daddy Ch. 02



This is real, I told myself. No vision, wispy day dream or night's fantasy, but real, solid . . . here. I reached out and touched my son's naked stomach—soft, hairless, smooth, warm. He was laying next to me on the bed with his lower half beneath the covers. One of his arms was beneath his pillow and the other lay limp on his chest, his fingers just above his nipple. In the pale morning light coming in through the shades of the window next to the bed, I lay there with my head propped up with my elbow, gazing at my sleeping lover.

Mine, I said to myself silently.

A stir. He was wakening. Caressing his stomach with my fingers, I watched as he made a real grouchy morning face, yawned and then opened both of his big pretty eyes to stare at me. He smiled.

"Hey early –bird," he said. I loved the cute little dimples which appeared at the sides of his mouth each time he smiled like that.

"Sleepy-head," I joked. He turned onto his stomach and so I slid my hand up onto his waist just above his butt. "Don't you have work this morning?" I asked.

He took my hand and led it over onto his butt which I rubbed very lightly with the tips of my fingers—so smooth, silky even. "Maybe I'll just call in sick," he said, giggling softly. "Don't you think that's a good idea . . . Daddy bear?"

I felt myself stiffen at hearing that—Daddy bear—so cute! I leaned over to kiss him on the lips—such soft lips—and so kind too. Such a good son. "Well," I said, parting from him. "You have already missed a lot of work already, Sweetheart . . ."

"Daddy, I'd quit my job for you," he replied, persistent as always, just like his mother. "I just want to be with you." At this he put his hand down beneath the covers and touched my already hardening penis. He played with its tip as he continued to speak, "All it takes it just one little bitty phone call . . . and then we can have more time alone . . ."

"Oh that feels so good," I said loving his gentle touch. "But Taylor, seriously though, you can't miss any more work . . . you have your family to think of."

He let go of my penis and, frustrated, slapped lightly onto my hand at his waist. "Daddy . . . I want to leave her . . . I want to get a divorce. I've told you about this before. I've—"

"Yes I remember," I said. "It will come through, I know. The divorce, I mean. But like we've said, we first have to wait for Becca to be able to move out and find a job so that your son will be well taken care of, as we agreed. I know you care for him . . . and you care for her also . . ." It hurt me to say that, but I knew it was true. Although he loved me, and I know it, he also retained some feelings for his soon-to-be ex-wife. We had spoken of this issue many times since we started having sex three weeks ago.

"Hmm . . . Daddy, you're right," Taylor said, a sad tired look on his face. "You're always right . . . so smart." He smiled at me and bent over to kiss me. "Now, Daddy . . . I gotta get ready . . . Do you want to . . . get ready with me, Daddy bear?" He giggled, a coy smile on that face of his that I admired so.

"Baby boy," I said, wrapping my arms around him. "You always know just what I am thinking don't you?" We kissed and I slid my hand down from his butt and towards his crotch where I felt his penis—it was getting hard every second.

With that we threw the covers aside, off of the bed, revealing into the cool open room air the bottom halves of our two naked bodies, two penises sticking straight up into the air now craving to be caressed. Holding hands, we crawled off of the bed and went into the bathroom. I stood behind my son as he bent slightly over to be able to turn the shower facet. His bending exposed to me his little pussy—red and raw—the hole into which I came every night since we first declared our love for one another. It was getting bigger though of course as his body was adapting to mine. We were becoming one flesh.

The water began falling from the showerhead, steam arose from it as it splashed to the bottom of the tub. Taylor turned around to face me, a smile on his lips, a twinkle in those soft pretty eyes. Together we stepped into the tub and stood under the shower. I took him into my arms in a slow intimate embrace, our hands at each others' waists gently fondling, searching. I felt my penis push into his as I held him. We rocked a little at our hips so that our penises rubbed together.

"Daddy," Taylor said now. "Remember that day—a long time ago—in the shower when you held onto my stomach . . .?"

I pulled my head away from over his shoulder and looked into his eyes. I kissed him. "Yes," I said. "I remember." We kissed again, my tongue sliding into his mouth and meeting his. Below, I began pressing my penis against his lower stomach and I felt his hard head pressing against my thigh.

"Remember how I wanted you to . . . make me pregnant?" he asked between a kiss. My hand slid down his side and onto his butt, which I squeezed now.

"Yes," I said.

Taylor looked directly into my face again. He was serious. "Daddy, I wish that I were . . . a woman." He swallowed and looked away from me towards the tile along the wall of the shower.

"Taylor," I said. "I love you . . . just the way you are."

"I know," he said. I began kissing his neck as he continued to speak. "I just wish that things could have been different . . . that I had been your little girl instead of your son. That way, we could run away to some exotic country somewhere and get married, and I could . . . have your baby."

I stopped licking his neck and looked at him again. "Taylor, you are . . . the love of my life . . . like I said, I love you just the way you are." I felt sad just then. Did he not realize how much I loved him? How I thought of him every moment that he was away? I wept over him. "Taylor, I don't care about any of that. I want to—"

"But Daddy bear," he said. "Will this always have to . . . remain hidden?"

I held onto both of his butt cheeks now and pressed my penis hard against him. We rocked back and forth between thrust after thrust after thrust. "Oh god, baby . . ." I said. We kissed, our lips wrapping around each other, sucking and slurping saliva. "Taylor, I love you . . . and I don't care . . . we will make this work . . . trust me . . . now turn around!" I smiled at him and he giggled. As he turned around I slid my hands around his body, and towards his stomach. Caressing his neck with kisses I positioned my hard cock between his butt cheeks. With one trust upwards my dick passed between the lips of his anus and up far into his ass. Taylor whelped.

"Oh Daddy!" he yelled as I thrust into him. "Daddy Daddy Sugar Daddy!"

I came, and shortly after he came too, his cum spraying away from us onto the wall of the shower in front of him. We took the rest of the shower in a kind of delightful and simple happiness which we had only ever known between each other. I washed his body and he washed mine. After soaping our bodies up we rinsed off and turned the facet to stop the water. Taylor went into the room to get dressed into his nurses uniform and he kissed me goodbye. I went downstairs to prepare some breakfast. I loved him so much!

After breakfast and reading the newspaper a bit, I went back upstairs to my room. It was a mess—sheets and blankets all over the place, semen stains all over the bed, even some on the wall directly behind the head of the bed. But I loved it. The strong salty smell in the air, a testament to the dozens of sessions of intense love making which had passed between my lover and I over the last few weeks since we found each other, truly found each other.

I smiled as I thought of his slick young body before me while I slide my wet throbbing penis in and out of his rectum. I closed my eyes and my hand fell to my penis which had begun to chubby. I took a deep breath, opened my eyes again, and abruptly turned around. I went down the hall and found the closed pull down door in the ceiling which led to the house's attic. I stood on my tiptoes and reached for the dangling cord and with one smooth motion pulled down the cord causing the door to open and stairs to appear. I unfolded these and climbed them up to the attic above.

It was dusty in there—hadn't been there for a long time. Various old pieces of furniture were piled up in one corner and grimy boxes were in another. I looked around for a moment before finding the box that I was looking for. I took it into my arms, blew dust off the top of it, and carefully brought it down the stairs with me and into the hall. I hefted it to my bedroom and, sitting among the spots of my son's cum, I opened the lid. To my view came what I had known I would find in the box: family pictures. There were five or six photo albums which my wife had prepared for the family. I took the first one and opened the cover.

"Not too long ago," I said aloud as I looked at the first picture, a family portrait from over a decade ago. We were all there; me, my wife, my daughters Lauren and Christine, and the then 12 year old boy Taylor. He stood next to me in the picture, a smile on his cute young face. "My baby boy," I whispered. Suddenly an image floated into my head: a family portrait much like the one in front of me except instead of me in the center with my arm around my wife, it was me in the center with my arm around Taylor, both of us in tuxedos. In the image/photo we were surrounded by children, our children—some of them with Taylor's lighter hair and some with mine. All smiling.

I flipped through the pages finding first photos of me and my daughters—pictures taken at the hospital at their births, and then their early childhoods and infancies. I found Taylor's section just beyond theirs. There we were—I and his mother—she in a wheelchair and I next to her, Taylor in her arms. Again an imaginary image—a photograph—popped into my head: Taylor in a wheelchair, our baby in his arms, me at his side. Another image: Taylor with breasts, a babe sucking greedily at his nipples receiving milk.

I took a breath and returned to looking at the photographs—pictures depicting my son's early childhood and his subsequent development into a young man. Had I ever noticed how cute he was, I thought to myself now as I looked at a photo of him posing in a basketball jersey. That youthful slim body of his! My penis started to harden beneath the photo album. "Oh Taylor," I moaned aloud as I pressed the head of my cock upwards towards the bottom of the album. "Oh my baby, baby boy."

"Daddy?"

I turned away from the photo album and found my daughter Lauren standing there in the doorframe watching me—a look of disgust on her face. "Um, yes?" I croaked.

"Daddy, it stinks in here," she said, bringing her hand up to her nose. "And what are you doing with those photos . . .?"

My heart thundered. "Nothing, just, um, having a look."

"No Daddy, you weren't," Lauren said. "You were . . . are you masturbating? . . . To that book?" She ran off down the hall.

"Honey," I yelled, throwing the book to the side. Getting up from the bed I noticed that my penis was still stiff beneath my robe so I adjusted it in my boxers waist band in order to hide it. "Lauren, wait, honey!" I ran down the hall behind her and took her by the shoulder. "Lauren!"

"Daddy, you were masturbating to Taylor!" she cried. "What is happening to you? I came over to have a nice little visit with you and I find you in a disgusting smelly sex chamber jacking off to your own son's photo?" She tried to move away, heading towards the stairs.

"Lauren, honey," I kept saying, trying to stop her. "Lauren!"

"I am getting out of here," she said. "Let me go!" She eyed me cooly.

"Okay!" I yelled to her face. "Okay! I WAS jerking off to a picture of Taylor! I was! I admit it freely. But it's okay because I . . . because I love him! Okay?" I was breathing hard now, my eyes boring into hers.

"Love him?" Lauren asked, her eyes darting from the wall to my face. "Love? As in . . .?"

"YES! As in I am IN LOVE with him! We are lovers! That is his cum on my bed." It was all out. I had panicked, hadn't been able to come up with an excuse in time so I had—without thinking—spilled the terrifying truth about my relationship with my son.

"Wow, Daddy," Lauren said. "You guys have . . . sex?"

I nodded. "Yes, we do. Since about 3 weeks ago. We love each other."

"Oh my god," she said silently, thinking it over. "This is so . . . I'm so, well, shocked. I don't know what to say."

"Don't say anything yet," I told her. "Go downstairs and have a seat on the couch. I will get dressed and come down. We'll talk. I'll explain everything."

Lauren made a grimace, looked me straight in the face, and then nodded slowly. She said, "Okay Daddy, I'll be down there." With that she walked away from me and went downstairs.

While changing I kept thinking about what I was going to say—what I should say, how I could break it to her, what I should and should not tell about us. It could all be gone, I thought. A black cloud could be hanging over the best love I've ever known in my life. It could all be ruined if I am not careful—or if Lauren can't deal with it. This must be such a surprise—I have to be careful.

I went downstairs and found Lauren on the couch, her hands at her face, crying softly. I sat down next to her and put my arm around her side, whispering, "There there sweetheart . . . I'm sorry that you . . . have to know this but it's the truth. I can't lie about how I feel about him, about Tay--"

"What would Mom think of this?" Lauren asked. Her words bit into me like razor teeth. Her hands remained over her wet eyes. "Do you think that she would approve of her husband fucking her son?"

I breathed deeply. Gotta be careful, but honest. "Honey," I began. "Your mother would . . . I loved your mother, you know that. Her death really hit me hard. It was shortly after her--"

"That you starting fucking Taylor?"

"Yes," I said. "It was shortly after her death that me and Taylor first . . . well first discovered each other. We didn't do anything for a long time. It all just kind of . . . happened one day."

Lauren looked at me, her eyes red. "He came out of you, you know," she said. "That penis that he's been sucking is the same damn penis that he came out of when he was conceived. Don't you find that strange? He's . . . drinking his brothers and sisters for God's sake!"

"Yes, he is," I admitted. "And it was strange, at first. But we don't care. We love each other. I love him. He is--"

"You love him as much as you loved Mom?" Lauren asked. "Do you?"

I pursed my lips, looked away. "Yes," I said. "Your mother will always have a place in my heart . . . but I have a very special place for Taylor too. I am starting to think that I . . . have felt this way about him for many years now--even when he was younger. It's just that--"

"It's wrong?" Lauren interrupted. "It's wrong Daddy, it's unnatural. I can't believe that this is--"

"You can have an opinion," I said. "And I respect that . . . You don't have to accept this now . . . You can do whatever you like. But I will continue to be with Taylor. I love him. I'm madly, deeply in love with him. He is my . . . soulmate."

"Soulmate? God! That is so strange!" Lauren exclaimed, her hands up in the air. "Does . . . does Becca know about this? About you?"

"No," I said. I patted her on the side gently. "And she won't know. No one will know . . . yet at least. We're not ready. You guys aren't ready. Lots of things will have to happen before we . . . take the next step . . . whatever that is. Please Lauren, honey, try to understand. Haven't you ever felt so much love for someone that you just couldn't help it but to . . . well do all in your power to be with them? That's how we are, me and Taylor. I feel like our love is boundless, eternal. An ocean of affection. His skin makes me well up with emotion. I can't contain myself." I meant it. Oh how I hope she understood me then, at that single sincere moment of pure expression. She looked into my eyes, and slowly nodded.

"Yes," she said. "I . . . I understand you--or I'm trying at least." She bent her head so that it rested against my chest. "I love you Daddy."

"I love you too, Lauren," I replied. I kissed her on the top of the head. "Go home now . . . and try to clear your mind of all of this. It's okay to take time before you come see me again about this. I understand. I do, believe me."

So that was that. A few minutes later she hugged me goodbye and I was left sitting on the couch looking around the room wondering what was going to happen next. Would she be silent, keep her cool? I didn't know. But it did feel good to get this off my chest. A relief.

A few hours later as I was spending some time on the internet, my phone vibrated and the text message light lit up. I opened the flip phone and saw that it was a text from Taylor. "deary daddy bear," it read. "i am almost on my break. wanna join me at the caf?" I replied, "ya sure. when?" to which I received the answer, "20 mins." I got up from the computer and put on some shoes before heading out to meet my son during his break.

The cafeteria didn't have too many people in it. The afternoon crowd, usuals, mostly employees all in blue and brown scrubs. When I walked in I saw Taylor sitting at a table with his cell phone out and his wallet next to where he rested his arm on the top of the table. He came up to me and gave me a hug, his arm sliding down to the bottom of my back just above my butt. "Hey Daddy," he whispered, smiling eagerly. He looked so cute in his blue scrubs with his little stethoscope. My little nurse.

We held each other, and, to my surprise, he leaned forward and planted a kiss right to the side of my mouth. It was slow and wet. He just smiled on and, taking my hand, lead me to into the cafeteria line where we would stand in the hot lunch line. I looked around to see if anyone had seen us. I couldn't tell. Everyone seemed pretty much into their food. We got our lunches and went back to our table.

"Taylor," I said softly, while he munched on a piece of cornbread. "I have to tell you something."

"That you love me?" he asked, his eyes giddy. "I already knew that." He chuckled.

"Yes, I do, of course, but no, I need to tell you that . . . well Lauren . . . knows about us." I took a glance around us to see if anyone could have possibly heard what I had just said. "She caught me . . . looking at some old photos of you and . . ."

Taylor put his hand on top of mine. "And she found out . . ." He put his fork down and looked deep into my eyes, a hint of worry there. "What did she say . . . is she going to tell anyone?" A hint of fear . . . and something else: excitement.

"No," I said. "I don't think so. I told her everything though . . . and she saw our room."

"I see," he said. "I think that--"

"Hey Taylor, mind if I sit with you guys?"

We both looked up to see who was talking--a young man about two years younger than Taylor. Good looking, wearing blue scrubs. His name card read "Jason." He eyed Taylor, eyes glued to his.

"Oh, hey Jason," Taylor said. "Jason, go ahead, and I'd like you to meet my father, Will."

"Hi Will," he said, taking my hand. "Pleased to meet you. Your son and I work together."

"Oh, that's nice," I said as he sat down next to Taylor, across from me. "He doesn't tell me about his friends at work much."

Jason smiled at me and then turned to Taylor to talk about something he had just done for a patient at the E.R. I wasn't paying attention to what he was saying. Only his eyes interested me. He seemed to have a glint of . . . well a spark there whenever he looked at Taylor. It confused me, and I felt suddenly uneasy. Meanwhile Taylor smiled at some of the things this boy said, and would avert his eyes over to mine every once in a while.




In Love with Daddy Ch. 02



"So Jason, are you married?" I asked, pretending to smile. "Kids, anything like that?"

"Um, no Will," he said slowly. "I'm actually gay." He took a side glance at Taylor, who smiled.

"Yeah, he's gay, Dad," Taylor said. "I told him about my . . . well my recent change of feeling too."

I tensed up. Did he tell this boy about us? "Oh?" I asked.

"Yes, I meant just that me and Jason have a lot to talk about now. I tell him about my boyfriend and he tells me about how he deals with gay relationships . . ."

I didn't like the sound of this at all. They were both gay, young attractive boys. And I was an old man. A pang of stinging jealousy ripped through my torso. "I see," I said dully. "That's good." Again with the fake smile.

"Yeah, Jason is helping me work out my divorce plans for Becca too." Oh wonderful, I thought, before he continued. "We're just friends of course, as Jason knows that I am taken ha ha!" He laughed, and took a sip from his soda.

"That is just wonderful," I said. "Hey, Taylor, I got to . . . tell you something important . . . something private"--I glanced at the boy Jason with a smile--"if you don't mind, Jason."

"Sure, no problem," Jason said. His eyes passed over my son's face. "I'll just wait here."

Taylor and I stood up from the table and I led him across the hall and into the bathroom. There was no one in there, so I whispered to Taylor, "Why didn't I know about this boy in your . . . well that he was so close to you like this?"

Taylor put his arms around my sides, but I pushed him away, looking at the entrance to the restroom behind him. "Daddy," Taylor said. "He's just a friend. That's it. I don't care about him. He can move and be out of my life tomorrow for all I care. I love you, care about you, Daddy." He leaned in and kissed me on the lips.

"I just," I started, stammering. "I am worried that . . . well he's younger, and it looks like he is in good shape and he's probably--"

"Nothing like my Daddy bear," Taylor whispered, kissing me again. "I love you, and want you. I won't do anything with this kid, I promise."

"I love you too but it's just so--"

"You're jealous, I understand that," Taylor said. "Don't be. Just stay calm. We can talk about this later too if you want. Here, let's, uh, go in here for a second." Taylor opened a stall door--the big stall for the wheelchair access. Before I could ask what he was doing and tell him it was a bad idea he pushed me up against a tiled wall and, his arms around my waist, he began kissing me. The smacking filled the bathroom. I tried to push him away but he adamantly pressed himself--his young strong body--up against mine. I felt his penis against my thigh as it bulged up from beneath the thin layer of scrub bottoms that he wore.

"Taylor," I whispered between kisses. "Taylor, someone could--"

I stopped dead in my sentence because someone had come into the bathroom. I could hear their soft foot falls as they made their way to the side of the wall with the urinals. Taylor, however, must not have noticed because he continued to kiss me--sloppy wet full open mouthed kisses. His hand was trailing down to my butt where he squeezed. A minute later the mysterious urinator was zipping up his pants and, after washing his hands, he left the bathroom. Meanwhile Taylor had got one of his hands down my pants and was groping my hard penis.

"Oh my god!" he yelped. "My break is almost over. Let's run back and finish our meal." Taylor let go of me and opened the stall door. I was about to head out when he stopped me saying, "Wash your hands, Daddy!" I smiled and said of course. We washed our hands and then returned to the table. I tried adjusting my clothes so that evidence of our little escapade would go unnoticed. Jason sat there, having finished his meal, texting silently on his phone. He looked up and smiled at us.

"So . . . enjoy your private talk?" he asked, his eye-brows raising and then lowering. What was that supposed to mean, little boy?

"What do you mean?" I asked, sitting down. "Yeah, personal stuff."

Jason smiled and leaned forward towards us from the other side of the small square table. He whispered, "I know that you two were kissing in the stall . . ." My heart went wild. Oh no! "And I want to tell you that . . . I am okay with it--I mean with that kinky stuff."

I looked at Taylor whose face had gone utterly pale white. I gulped. "Um, it's alot to explain," I began. "You see Jason--"

"Don't explain anything, Daddy," he said. His tongue flicked out playfully. "I am totally into it. In fact,"--in saying this next bit he leaned in really close to us and was very soft, almost just mouthing the words instead of saying them audibly--"I am even willing to be a . . . third wheel if you want me." That smile again, little young gay boy smile.

"I, uh," I didn't know what to say. "Thanks for your offer but we are fine the way we are."

"Yeah," Taylor said, biting his lower lip curiously. "We are just fine thank you, Jason."

"Just think it over," Jason said, a little louder. "Taylor honey, you have my number. Call me." With that Jason rose from the table taking his tray in his arms. He smiled at Taylor and turned his eyes to me. He winked. I watched him turn around and head towards the trash bins. He was so fit, muscular, with a tight butt. But he wasn't my Taylor, my one and only true little love.

"Okay Daddy," Taylor said. "I will see you tonight. I'll have to go home first to deal with some stuff with Becca. I'll call you when I'm ready to come over, okay?" With that Taylor got up and left me at the table. He had only eaten his cornbread. Poor thing.

Later in that afternoon--long after Taylor must have already gone home to deal with Becca and his kid--I decided to call Lauren. "Daddy, hello," she said, sounding much calmer than she had earlier that day when she had made her discovery. "How are you?"

"I'm fine, thanks," I said.

"That's good . . . what's up?"

"I just want to know how you feel about . . . what we talked about earlier?"

"Oh it's all good," she said lazily. "Really, it's fine. A shock, yes, but if you really . . . are in love . . . then I'm sure that Mom wouldn't mind."

"Do you really feel that way?" I asked.

"Yes, I do. For sure. You have to follow your heart wherever it leads you."

"Okay, thanks honey."

"I gotta run and get the kids to bed. Talk to you later, Daddy."

She hung up. I went outside to stand on the porch and wait for Taylor's call. Finally he texted me telling me that he would be over in 15 minutes. I went upstairs and quickly took off all of the bedsheets and covers from the bed and replaced them with clean linen. It had been a while after all, and the stains were really bad on the old sheets. This would be nice--like a fresh start for us.

Taylor let himself in downstairs and locked the door behind him. I finished straightening the sheets and lighting some candles and went downstairs to greet him.

"Hey Taylor," I called, heading towards the front living room area. "Sweetheart, I--"

He stopped me in my tracks. There he was sitting on the couch, for sure, but he was wearing a tiny black low-cut dress, and his semi-long hair was shiny and neatly done on the top of his head. His face was all done up with make-up--dark mascara around his eyes, his lips bright rose read. On his hairless chest--where I could see--he had the necklace that I had given him that first night. It glittered in the lamp light. His legs--shaved, smooth--were crossed beneath his skirt and he was wearing high heels.

"Hey Daddy," he said, smiling--his eyes seductive in the midst of all of that mascara and eye-liner.

"Wow, Taylor," I said. "You look--well you look different!" I was at a loss for words! He had always been the sub in our relationship, and much more feminine than me, but this was entirely unexpected . . . but not necessarily a bad thing. I just didn't know what to think right now. "When did you get changed? What about--"

"I told Becca that I am done," he said. One of his hands was upon the knee of his top leg, rubbing gently. "I told her that I am in love with someone else, and that I am . . . his girlfriend. I got dressed after that and told her I would start packing my things tomorrow morning."

"Wow," I said. "How did she react to seeing you like . . . like this?"

"Who cares, Daddy?" Taylor said, getting up from the couch and slowly approaching me. "I have you . . . I want us to be a real couple from now on. Daddy bear, my sweetlove, I don't want it to be a secret anymore. There's nothing wrong with it." He wrapped his slender arms around my waist and rocked gently. "I love you."

"I love you too, honey," I said. "More than anything, more than anybody. But I am not sure if . . . coming out about this--about us--in public is such a good idea. Lauren finding out was a total accident, I mean--"

"She accepted it right, Daddy bear?" he asked, leaning in to kiss my lips. The juicy taste of his lipstick reminded me of my late wife. I was instantly turned on, wanted him. I took him by the waist around the back and pulled him closer to me. My penis began to harden as I felt his little hips press against my lap.

"Yeah, I guess so," I said. I bent my neck and kissed him on the bottom of his right check. I crossed to his other cheek. "I just think that maybe we should be very careful. Don't get me wrong it's just that--"

"It's okay, Daddy," he said. Our bodies pressed together now--gently, softly--my penis now hard and bulging from my pants against his waist. I felt his penis against my upper thigh, through his silky little skirt. "I don't care who knows . . . they'll get over it. I don't even care about my job. If they try to fire me or discriminate . . . I'll just sue." He giggled. My lips were pressed against his neck kissing and I felt the giggle--so cute!

"Okay," I said then, bending my neck far to kiss his exposed upper chest. "I'll tell the whole world about us. Let them know! . . . I want you so bad!"

"I want you too," Taylor said as I pressed his body against myself and felt his penis jab into me as mine jabbed against his stomach. I caressed his waist and traveled down to his thighs. I began to put my hands up underneath his dress.

"Hey babe, you remind me of your mother right now," I said, feeling up his smooth thighs towards his butt. "You're so pretty . . ." I sucked on his lip as my hand came to his panties.

"Am I . . . prettier than her though?" Taylor asked. "I mean, am I?"

I pulled back from his lips to look at his face, into those big blue eyes of his. I nodded slowly. "Yes," I said. "You are prettier than her . . ." I kissed those dark red lips. "You are much prettier than her . . . Taylor, she gave me you, and for that she will always have my gratitude . . . but you are my one true and only love--my soulmate. We complete each other, don't you see? I want to spend the rest of my life with you. You are the rose against the snow, the flower of my life. My spirit. My whole mind. My son."

"Aww, Daddy," he said. "You're so romantic!"

We made love long into the night over and over again, clinging to each other's naked bodies, caressing each other's skins deep into the wells of profound dreams.



In Love with Daddy Ch. 03



Hello, my name is Taylor. If you've read my other story (In Love with Daddy, Ch. 1), you know that in it I describe how I, a regular 28 year old married man with a 4 year old boy, fell in love with my grieving, widowed father, Michael. I invited him to write the second part of our story (In Love with Daddy, Ch. 2), where he told you how my older sister, Lauren, found out about Dad and I (and was okay with it), how my gay coworker Jason invited us to a threesome, and finally, and briefly, about my decision to leave my wife, Becca, and be open about my relationship.

I will now try to give you a third story, from my point of view again. I will start only a few days after that last night with Dad, when I showed up at his house wearing a revealing top and a mini-skirt, with make-up. I found that I absolutely loved wearing women's clothing so, in a bold rush the morning after that last night, I made my way to the mall and bought several sexy outfits, as well as some new black bras and panties. I only wore them around Dad though, at his house and while going out to dinner with him, or to run errands. I didn't work the rest of the weekend, so I just spent time with Dad during the days—and the nights.

When Monday morning came I argued with myself back and forth over whether or not I ought to start wearing the ladies underwear and the make-up to work. Dad said he didn't care either way—though I know he loved me with it on and would feel very special if I did wear it to work for him. But in the end I decided on the safe course and changed into a clean pair of scrubs I had left at Dad's place, though beneath I still wore a black bra and silky smooth panties. I did my hair up like I used to always do it, and then stepped out of the bathroom where Dad was lying naked on our bed, his penis erect. I breathed deeply, looking at that beautiful strong body of his.

"What am I gonna do, sweetie pie?" he asked, grinning. "Mr. Teddy Bear wants his mama . . ." He spread his legs wide apart, so that I could see his anus, beneath his scrotum.

"Well, Mr. Teddy Bear is going to have to wait," I said, playfully. "If he's naughty, and plays with himself, then mama might not even come home tonight. What would Mr. Bear think of that?"

Suddenly Dad's smile broke, turning around into a mock frown. "Taylor, you're not serious, are you?"

I laughed. "Of course not, honey . . . but I do have to figure things out with Becca and Alex though. She's left a few messages on my phone, saying that she's already called her lawyer. She wants me to pack up my things, and sign the paperwork. I'll move out but I don't know if I should be signing anything until I can get a lawyer too. What do you think, Dad?"

He was somber now and sat up on the bed, scratching his arms. His penis was gradually going flaccid as he thought. He said, "I think you should. I know a good lawyer, a friend of mine—remember that guy in the gym that day when"—here a flicker of smile came over his face—"I touched you in the shower? That's him. His name is Bob—well, Robert McNamara, actually. He's good."

"Awesome," I said. "Well, Dad, I should be heading out now. I work until 7 tonight and will be stopping by my house to pick up some things. What do you do today?"

"Oh, jacking off to thoughts of you all day," he said, with a chuckle. "I don't have any plans yet. Now come and give your father a kiss, boy."

I giggled and let myself fall into his bare arms, kissing him. He still had some of my lipstick from the previous night on his lips—and on other parts of him as well. His right hand fell to my butt, which he squeezed tenderly. Just as I was about to let him go, I reached down with one of my free hands and wrapped my palm around the shaft of his penis, fully erect again. He moaned.

"That's it," I said, standing up straight and dropping his cock. "See you tonight, Dad."

"I love you," he said.

"I love you too."

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Work that day at the ER was busy, as usual. I had to help with a couple of patients who had had heart attacks, and one who had had a stroke. All in all, a very fast-paced morning. Jason was there but except for an occasion side glance at me, he didn't say anything to me, and I almost forgot that he knew about me and Dad at all. At lunch, however, he slid up next to me in the line and put his hand on my back between my shoulder blades.

"Is that a bra under there?" he asked. He fingered the strap through the thin scrubs material.

I turned to him and looked up—he was a few inches taller than me—into his smiling face. "Did you . . . could you see it?"

He nodded. "Yup, I could. It's pretty easy, you know. It's dark, and your scrubs are light. Did you think we couldn't see it?"

"No, not really," I admitted. "I should take it off, huh?"

He laughed. "And let those giant beautiful tits of yours sag? I don't think so, babe."

"Ha ha ha," I said, slowly. "Very funny. I like it, so sue me." I turned back towards the approaching salad bar, and picked up a tray.

"Well," Jason began behind me. "Even if you did take it off, we could still see your cute panties." With that he patted my butt softly.

After getting my food I made a point of sitting next to our manager, Sheryl, so that if Jason sat next to me he wouldn't be able to make his filthy jokes. Whether or not Sheryl could tell I was wearing a bra, or anyone else for that matter, I didn't know nor care. As I had told Dad last night: I was tired of it all, hiding, caring about that kind of thing. I was already compromising myself too much as it is by not wearing my make-up or doing my hair up.

As I ate, though, I found my eyes wandering around the cafeteria, checking out some of the hotter guys there—two or three nurses from other floors, some doctors, a unit clerk, and then there was Jason, of course, who eyed me back. He was a very good-looking guy—wide chest, nice cheekbones, a full head of dark brown hair—and if a rumor that I had heard from one of my female coworkers was true, Jason has a massive 10 inch cock. I don't know how she found out—as far as I could tell Jason was not bisexual. So it might be a myth. 10 inches is pretty big—Dad's is only 8 and mine an inch or more smaller than his. It was obvious to see the shape of his chest through his scrub top—his nipples were showing—so maybe I could find a way to see the shape of his penis through his scrubs bottom, just maybe . . .

What was I thinking? I am not interested in him, I told myself then, returning to the dull conversation at my own table. I could only endure it a moment longer, and thoughts of Jason came back to me. But I shoved them out and tried thinking of Daddy instead, of the taste of his balls, or of his anus. Beneath the table my penis was getting hard, so I again forced myself to follow along with the boring talk coming from Sheryl and the others. Soon lunch was over and I was back to work again, full blast.

Luckily, I managed to avoid Jason the rest of the night, and when I was off the clock I practically ran to the garage to my car. Before starting my car, I texted Becca to tell her that I was heading over there right now to pick up some of my stuff. When she replied a few minutes later, after I was already on the road, she just said "ok"—which I guessed was a good thing. In a few minutes I was there and walking up to the front doorway, where I unlocked the door and came inside.

The T.V. was on and my 4 year old, Alex, was sitting on the couch watching a cartoon. He had a blanket wrapped around him, and was eating a microwave mac and cheese supper. He raised his big blue eyes in my direction and, upon seeing me, exclaimed, "Daddy! You're home!"

He leapt from the couch and ran into my open arms. I hugged him tightly. It had been more than even a few days since I had last seen him, since he had spent a couple of days with Becca's mother and father.

"Where were you, Daddy?" Alex asked now, stepping back away from me. "Mommy says you were at Grandpa's house. She says you are going to live there now."

"Well, yes," I said. "I am going to live with Grandpa from now on. He is kind of sick, and needs a nurse like me to hang out with him all day and make sure he is okay at night too." I had prepared that lie over the weekend, with Dad's help. Alex would buy it, I knew—at least until he got older. He might get suspicious then, especially when his Daddy would start wearing women's clothing—which actually might be sooner than later (I had not quite decided upon the particulars of my public "show" yet).

"Yes," came Becca's voice, behind me, her tone cautious. "Your dad is going to live with Grandpa, and take right good care of him."

I turned and found her standing there in the doorway, her full blonde hair shining in the light coming from the kitchen to the side of her, at the end of the hall. She was very pretty, I still thought. She had a slim form, with full breasts and nice lady-like legs. Right now she was wearing a grey-green skirt with a white blouse, and an apron tied around her hips. She had the same deep blue eyes as our son.

"You can get your things from the bedroom," she said now, with a chilly undertone that had been missing a moment before. "Here, let's let Alex watch his television and finish his dinner."

With that I got up and, after patting my son of the head, walked behind my wife towards our bedroom where I sat on the bed and she closed the door. A lamp shone from a side table.

"So?" I started. "What's up, Becca?"

"You know," she said, remaining where she was. "Of course you do."

"Yeah, what do you want to say?"

She sighed, looked away briefly, and then lowered her eyes. "Do you really want to do this, Taylor?"

"You mean, do I really love my father?" I asked. I answered it myself: "Yes, of course. I love him."

"Love him . . .? Because it's your father and to love your father is natural?" Becca was now looking straight into my eyes and had taken a step forward, but her arms were clasped around her chest. "No, you love him in a different way, in a really disgusting way . . ."

I rolled my eyes. This was going nowhere. "Yes," I said. "I am his little bitch. He stuffs his penis into my ass. We—"

"Shh!" Becca said, putting her finger over her lips. "Alex might hear, you idiot! I don't even think he should be around you anymore, in fact. I think it's unhealthy."

"Oh come on, Becca," I said. "Don't even go there." I was ready to get up and just start grabbing my stuff, but she stepped towards me again and placed a hand on my shoulder. I looked at it, frowning. "What?"

"Taylor," she began. "Don't fight for Alex . . . for his custody, I mean. If you do, then I intend to inform my lawyer—and the judge—that you are . . . cheating on me, with a man."

"Becca, I am totally fine with you getting total custody of our son," I said. "Oh, and I don't care if anyone finds out, about me. I am even going to start dressing as a woman all the time, as I told you before. Dad and I are going to be as open as possible about us, and—"

"And what if Alex finds out?" Becca said, cutting me off. She let go of my shoulder. "We can never, ever let him know about you and Michael. You can do whatever you want, but when you're around our son you better not be dressed like a girl! I will put out a restraining order against you, if you fail in this."

"I was actually about to tell you that Dad and I are not planning on letting Alex know about us," I told her, truthfully. "We talked about this. But I will still wear women's clothing around him. What is wrong with that? He can know his dad is gay, at least. Right? Or are you homophobic now?"

She took a deep breath. "We will talk about all of this later . . ." she said, turning around and opening the door. "Get your stuff and get the hell out of my house."

I packed quickly—only the essentials: all of my scrubs, socks, a few books, my laptop, some bathroom stuff, and my stash of gay porn magazines that I had hid from Becca beneath a plank in our closet. Maybe me and Dad could learn some new tricks. I put all of this stuff—magazines first!—into a large duffle bag and left the room. I found my son fast asleep on the couch, and my wife—or ex-wife, almost—in the kitchen finishing up the dishes. She glared at me and said, "Well. We will stay in touch. At least our lawyers will."

"Sure," I said, and headed out.

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I was surprised to see my sister Lauren's car parked in Dad's driveway. Inside the house, I could see them both sitting down on couches opposite one another. Someone's—Lauren's, I think—arms were making some kind of gesture as if to aid in explaining something really difficult. When I entered the living room Lauren was in the middle of saying something. She cut it short and looked at me, gulping.

"Hey," she said, and bit her lip. "How was work?"

"Fine," I replied, setting my duffle bag in the hall before entering the living room. Dad was sitting there in jeans and a button-up shirt. He swallowed upon seeing me.

"Hi sweetheart," he said. "Lauren was just visiting. We went out to get something to eat earlier. How'd everything go with Becca tonight?"

I looked back at Lauren, who nodded. She said, "You know that . . . I know about you and Daddy, right?"

"Yes," I said, taking a step towards Dad.

"Good, well it's still a bit hard for me . . . but Daddy and I have talked about it all"—she paused here, and licked her lips—"and I am fine with it. Daddy has been so lonely since Mom died, and I know he loves you. All day today, every time he or I mentioned your name, his face would just light up as I'd never seen it before. That's what Mom would want for him, I think."

"Thanks," I said, sincerely. "That means a lot, sis."

With that, I stooped over slightly and kissed Dad on the lips. I sat down next to him and he put his arm around my shoulders with his other hand in mine on my lap. He gently caressed my thumb.

"I see that you're wearing a bra too," Lauren said now, pointing towards my chest. "Dad said you are going to start wearing ladies clothes all the time. You do have good skin tone, I think. Do you mind my asking if you are, uh, planning on becoming a girl? Maybe get some breast implants, or take estrogen?"

"Well," I began, stealing a glance at Dad. "A definite 'No' on 'becoming a girl'"—here I made the two finger gesture for quotation marks—"but I have thought, only thought, about getting breasts." I looked at Dad who remained silent all this time, gazing alternatively at my neck, lips, and eyes. "I haven't talked with you, Dad, about this yet. Would . . . would you like that?"

"Umm," he started, lost for words it seemed. "I . . . well, I wouldn't want you to do anything you wouldn't be comfortable with. And implants and all that can be expensive. I love you, and always will. The way you are right now, or any other way too. Do whatever you want. I mean that, honey." He kissed my cheek.

"That's why I love him," I said, chuckling. "So the answer is 'Maybe,' I guess."

"Did this start out that way—I mean, with you wanting to be more feminine?" Lauren asked. It appeared that she was definitely interested.

"I don't think so," I answered. "I was never feminine until Dad and I got together. But it feels so natural now, and Dad likes it."

"I sure do!" he said, and kissed my cheek again. "But like I said, I am okay with you however you are, son. I mean it!"

"And do you, uh, still see him as your father?" Lauren asked, biting her lip again.

"Yes," I said, rubbing Dad's hands between mine. "We even talked about this. Our first relationship is and will always be father and son, a dad and his boy. We are just a very, very intimate father and son. That's all." I turned to Lauren and, really wanting to know, asked, "Why do you want to know all of this?"

"Well," she said. "I am, uh, really into the 'Taboo.' Let's just say that. Daddy and I talked all about this today. I wouldn't ever do anything sexual with my own family members, but for some reason I really like incest, of all kinds. I was shocked at first by finding out about you and Daddy the other day, but I went home and remembered that I . . . had even had some thoughts about you and Daddy, having sex. Before I knew, I mean. I have had thoughts of even more than that, of a . . . family orgy, with Mom too. Now before you think I'm insane, just remember that like I said, I would never do it myself . . ." She was breathing hard now, and trying to manage a smile.

This was all news to me. I had not the slightest clue about any of my sister's secret fantasies. I guess everyone has them. But she said she would never "do it" herself . . .

"Do you just want to find out more about our sex life . . . or, what?" I asked.

"She was wondering if she could just videotape us, sweetie," Dad said, before his daughter could answer. "Just once. I told her it was okay . . . I hope it is."

My heart fluttered in my chest, and my penis suddenly came alive. But it was not just arousal; it was also a kind of panic. This was some of the craziest stuff I'd ever heard of.

"Umm, are you going to set up a tri-pod?" I asked now, looking again at Lauren.

"I want to tape you guys live, if that's okay," she said. "I also hope that's okay with you, Taylor. If it's too weird then don't worry about it. We don't have to do it. I was just talking with Daddy about it—it was his idea to tape it for me. Plus, I am not as interested in that kind of thing as I used to be a few years ago."

I thought it over. My own sister, and my lover's daughter, taping us having sex? I don't know if I can do it. But if Dad is okay with it, and it's just this once . . . it does sound exciting. "Did you want to do that tonight?" I asked.

"Umm, if that's okay."

"Is it?" Dad asked.

"Uh . . . yes," I said, nervous all over again at the thought. "You have your camera, Lauren?"

"Yes, I do," she said, and got up from the couch. "I will go get it from my trunk. Thanks again, Taylor. I . . . This is going to be a lot of fun for me. It's kind of a fantasy of mine . . . if you know what I mean. And I promise I won't, uh, you know, at all during filming."

She left the room and Dad started kissing me on the neck. I wanted to get up and head to the bathroom but Dad had me pretty firmly in his arms now, and his hand was trailing up my thigh to my erect penis. In a moment Lauren was back in and, having taken off her light jacket, had a small camcorder in her hands. Dad and I got up from off the couch and, my hand in his, walked up to our bedroom. Dad had apparently cleaned the room and replaced the sheets. There were also a few air fresheners in the outlets, filling the room with a sweet, flowery aroma.

I went to the bed and sat down, while Dad began unbuttoning his shirt. Lauren turned on her camera and its light—plus a supplemental light attached to it—shown brightly in my eyes so that I couldn't see Dad anymore. Although I was still aroused, the situation had made my penis go limp again. I was wondering if I would be able to perform under such bizarre conditions . . .

"Just do what you normally do," Lauren said now. "Try and pretend like I'm not here." With that she moved the camera towards a slightly different direction and angle, so that I could see Dad again.

He had his shirt and undershirt off, and was unbuttoning his pants. He had apparently already taken off his socks, because he was now close enough to me that his bare toes were touching the tops of my shoes. In a moment he was completely naked, his penis straight up and bobbing lightly against my chest. I put my hands on his hips and felt around him to his hard butt cheeks. I was conscious of Lauren maneuvering towards his backside to get a close up of Dad's ass. Meanwhile, I pressed my body against his penis, feeling it jab me like a hard baton. Dad brought his hands down to my scrub top and in one graceful swoop I was shirtless, my bra in view. As Dad slowly leaned over on top of me, kissing along my neck and my shoulders, I began to forget about Lauren and her camera—and to just relax and enjoy these precious moments here with my sweet, kind Daddy bear.




In Love with Daddy Ch. 03



He unclasped my bra and his mouth went immediately to my nipples, where he first kissed then sucked gently. In my mind's eye, I had round heavy breasts, big brown areolas, and perky nipples. I should get implants or something after all, I thought—suddenly deciding that issue for myself. Yes, a nice pair of tits for my sweetheart. Maybe it could be a birthday gift or something, to him.

My nipples were red and sore by the time he was done with them, and had moved onto my stomach where he stuck out his tongue and licked me. With his hands, he was reaching below the waistbands of my scrubs pants, and slowly drawing them down towards himself. In just a moment I felt my butt free against the sheets and my solid penis shoot up against Dad's neck. He moved again, his head hovering above my penis, looking at it hungrily. The harsh yellow light coming from Lauren's camera shown upon the scene up close, just as Dad stuck out his tongue and licked up a spittle of pre-cum from me. A moment later and he had me deep in his mouth, almost to my base. I felt the warmth of his salvia all around me there, moistening me up. It was incredible and so I closed my eyes and moaned for the first time since we'd started.

"Yeah, more of that," Lauren said, her voice broken, her breath uneven. "Sorry. Forget I said that."

Dad let go of my penis and laughed. "Was that just acting?" he said, jokingly. I looked down at him, at where his face leaned up against my glistening cock. I reached down and touched his face, not making any expression at all. "Oh, I see. Well, son, I'll make you moan some more before we're done. You'll see."

Instead of going down on my penis again, he stood up and grabbed my waistband again, pulling it down all the way to my shoes. Smiling up at me briefly, he stooped down so that I could only see his face and shoulders, and commenced untying my shoes one by one.

"It's like you're in preschool again, Taylor," he said, and took a slight glance in the camera's direction. "Remember how I used to untie your shoes for you everyday after school? And on Sundays, for church?"

I just peered down at him and nodded, biting my lip. My throat felt dry, and I swallowed. The tip of my penis was bubbling up with drops of pre-cum, while the rest of it was now somewhat dry. I felt weak everywhere except for that spot, my groan. I would be passive, I decided. Let my Daddy bear do the work for us this time.

He seemed to understand this because after he had finished with my shoes and socks, and after having stripped me to my birthday suit, he brought his lips slowly up my legs kissing as he went. I loved the smacking sound they made as he went, getting closer and closer to my penis. But he didn't take it into his mouth again. This time he put his hands on the insides of my thighs and spread them wide apart. With one of his hands he took my penis and lifted up my balls, with the other he half-pried open my anus below. There, he bent over and within seconds had his tongue sliding inside, in and out and all around. For a moment I was really worried if he would find me adequately "clean" down there, but in the next instant I had forgotten about such things and gave myself up to the sweet moist sliding muscle. I moaned—once, twice, and a third time, I think. Good material for my sister, right?

His tongue disappeared, but it returned but this time to my lips. I let him on top of me as we frantically French-kissed, his arms sliding around the sides of my body and mine at his back. Our penises rubbed up against each other between us. I wrapped my legs around his.

"Daddy bear," I called out, looking over his back towards that perfect round butt of his. "Fuck me, Daddy bear. Fuck me." He brought his eyes to look into mine, straight above me.

"I am so madly in love with you, son," he said now, his body still. "I just want you to know that I do know what sacrifices you might make for me, for us." He brought one of his hands up to my cheek and brushed some of my hair away from my ear. "Your wife, your son, your work possibly, your . . . sexual identity, maybe? I just can't fathom what you have chosen to do, for me. I will always be grateful for you. You are my one and only, my sweetheart."

I am so in love with him too. I want to tell him, but how? I feel tears falling down my cheeks. "I . . ." I start, then swallow. "You are my best friend, Dad . . . You always have been. Growing up, I knew I could rely upon you. Remember when I fell off my bike that one time, and you put Neosporin on my injuries? Or when I wrecked my car and couldn't pay for the towing to the auto shop? Or that time I was busted by the cops for weed?"

Dad started laughed, really laughing. With it, his whole body bounced. I felt his penis press into me again and again as he went on. "Yeah, I remember that last one for sure!" he said now, as I too started to laugh. "'Coolest dad in the world', I remember you saying—after we agreed not to tell your mother."

"You are the best dad in the world, Daddy bear," I said, finding his lips with mine, to kiss before he can continue. "Now," I continued, looking into his eyes with excitement. "Show me you love me, Daddy bear. Show your son you love him!"

He smiled wildly and kissed me again, and again, and again. In a moment, he was sitting over me, my legs still spread out. "Hey cutie, can you reach over and hand me that lubricant? It's on the nightstand," he said, winking at me. I was about to reach over to get it when I notice that Lauren has already retrieved it with her free hand. She was standing there with only her blouse and some pink cotton panties on.

"Here you go, Daddy," she said, smiling broadly as she handed him the bottle.

I watched as Dad squirted some of the stuff onto his hands, and then onto his penis. It shimmered in the bright light coming from Lauren's camera. He placed one hand on his penis and the other near my anus. I moaned as he slid himself into the opening there, first an inch, then two, then beyond that. After he was firmly in place, I pulled my knees as close to my chest as possible, feeling my anus squeeze around him much as his lips and mouth had squeezed around my own penis only minutes before.

Slowly at first, Dad started sliding in and out of me, pounding so hard into me that I felt like I had to clutch the sheets on the bed just to stay in position. It doesn't hurt anymore when he fucks me like this—it's all pleasure for me now. Below him my penis was oozing pre-cum, set to explode in orgasm any moment. I could feel it coming on soon.

"Daaaaaaaaaaaaaad!" I moaned, staring straight into his eyes as he stared straight back into mine, his face utterly somber. I took one of my hands and touched his chest, which was sweaty, making my way to his left nipple, which I clutch lightly, then let go.

I could feel it coming, amidst all the moist slapping noises and all the hard breathing. Sweat was now dripping off of Dad's body onto me and onto the sheets beneath. I became aware again, momentarily, of the hard, harsh camera light—but I didn't care. I was lost in the magical moment.

All at once both Dad and I shook with orgasm, him shooting his load deep into my wet anus, me spraying mine all over my chest, neck, and even a part of my face. I moaned while he let out a short yell of some kind. Seconds later, he was laying on top of me as we breathed into each others necks. He was still inside of me but was going limp (as was I, against his stomach). After collecting my breath again, I took my hand and touched the back of his head, petting it gently.

Lauren, too, was breathing heavily, I noticed then. I looked over at where she stood, one hand in her panties and the other holding the camera so it faced towards us on my left side. She was apparently zooming in, at that moment, because I could hear her camera buzzing.

Dad slid out of me and flung himself to the right side of the bed, staring up at the ceiling. He looked over at Lauren and asked, "Did you get it all right, sweetheart?" He chuckled.

"Yes . . ." she replied. "I'm sorry for, uh, touching myself. It's just that it was so—"

"Hot?" Dad asked. "Your brother has an amazing body, doesn't he?"

"Dad, you're sweet," I said, blushing. We held each others hands, laying them softly upon my stomach. The smell of semen in strong in the air. "You have a pretty rockin' bod yourself, Daddy bear."

"You both are amazing," Lauren said, putting the camera down and turning off its lights. She turned around and began putting on her pants.

I hardly noticed when she left a few minutes later, after going to the bathroom. I just closed my eyes and fell right to sleep in my father's warm embrace.

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I was really tired and sore the next morning at work. And I had a line of hickeys along my neck and shoulders, which everyone noticed. I decided not to wear a bra since my nipples were also raw. Dad had been ferocious the night before, during filming, and I was finding it hard to concentrate on my work just thinking of everything that had been happening in the past few weeks. When I got off my shift, anxious to get home to Dad again, I was so wrapped up in thoughts of him that I didn't notice that Jason had followed me down the hall.

I was just about to click open the elevator to the garage when I felt hands—strong hands—grasp me around the waist. It took me by surprise, and since I was already tired and sore I did not have the energy to break myself loose. I realized who it was and started yelling, "Jason, let me go!" but he wouldn't, and soon I was being dragged into a nearby supplies room. "Jason!"

It was dark in there but, craning my neck, I could see Jason's chiseled face, harsh. He was so strong that he only needed to keep one hand upon my hip, while the other went down to his scrubs bottom. He slid it all the way down to his shoes and pressed his half-erect penis against my butt crack. Putting his arms on my waist, he turned me around and said, "Check this out, babe."

I looked down at his crotch and saw what must be one of the biggest cocks I have ever seen in my entire life, dangling there in the dim light inches from me. I have to admit that sparks went off in my head at the thought of even touching such a massive beautiful penis. Like mine, it was completely shaved and—like mine, now!—it had a bubble of pre-cum forming on its pale pink tip. I shook my head, saying, "Jason, I already have someone. You know that . . ."

"Your daddy," he said. "That's good and all, but babe, you can have me on the side—for desert." He leaned over (he was much taller than even Dad) and kissed the hickeys on my neck. I had never felt such sensuous kisses before, such soft moist smacks coming from him each time he made contact with my skin. This is wrong, I thought. I am with Dad . . . but oh god that feels so good. I closed my eyes as he fondled my weakened body, pressing himself—and his glorious huge cock—against me. I was definitely passive last night, with Dad, but this is ridiculous; I was this man's plaything here!

He masterfully stripped me from everything except for my socks and laid me down upon the hard cold ground of the storeroom. For a moment I was concerned about someone walking in (a very real concern, though I also knew this was an area not used during the evening shifts), but my fears evaporated when I felt Jason's diamond-hard chest, rippled six-pack, and firm nipples against my hand as I slide myself down even lower, towards making my first contact with that monster down there, this beast. I tried to put my hand around its shaft, but it did not easily fit around it because it was so thick. I had to settle with the thinner tip, which is now slick with his pre-cum. I started to pump, up and down, all along the length of it.

He stopped kissing me and, before I knew it, I was sitting up on top of him. Placing his hands on my waist, he gently lowered me on top of his penis. I felt it slide—no lubricant!—deep, deep inside of me, to a point where it hurt and I was honestly worried that I could be injured. Also, I wondered if Dad would notice the next time he's up there too! But that was all behind me as I felt myself rocking up and down, up and down, along his shaft—his hands still on my waist but his fingers on my butt. My own penis was flapping up against my stomach with each high bounce and drop. I could hardly remember the exact details of what happened after that, only that it was pure and utter SEX, of a rough, steamy, and manly kind.

When I came, the force of my ejaculation and orgasm were so powerful that I actually clawed into Jason's hands with my fingernails, digging deep into his skin there. My semen shot out in the dark and landed right onto Jason's lips, perhaps into his open mouth. He, however, had not reached orgasm and so I kept on bouncing as he grunted below me.

In this post-orgasm clarity, I was overcome with guilt. What had I just done? I asked myself. I have cheated on Dad . . . if he found out about this, he would be devastated. I looked down at Jason's straining face and wanted to slap him. Why had he kept at it, knowing that we wanted nothing to do with him? This was wrong, of course. I had wanted him, I knew that much. I had often just sat there, in the ER, watching his butt and thinking of what his awesome chest might look like beneath that tight scrub top of his. I lusted after him though—a different thing than how I felt about Dad, right?

After his orgasm, he dropped me roughly onto the floor—which hurt, actually. His cum was oozing out of my now painful anus, onto the floor. He was still breathing heavily while I stood up and tried to find my clothes. I found my pants and reached in to find my smart phone. I had received a few calls, a voicemail, and a text from Dad. The text read, "hey there, love of my life. did you stop by beccas place?" I quickly texted back, "no sweetheart, i just had to drop someone off from work. be back soon. love u :)" I started to put on my panties.

"Did I hurt you?" Jason asked, still on the floor but now leaning over to face me. His penis—still huge, of course—hung flaccid, its tip against the surface of the floor. "I'm sorry, babe. I do that to guys sometimes."

I felt like punching him, but said, "Oh yeah? I'm okay." I had my pants on now and sat down on top of a cardboard box to put on my socks and shoes.

"You know, I'm actually a really nice guy," Jason said. "I like taking cutie pies like you out to dinner, or to the movies. Would you like that?"

"Uh, you know how I'd answer that . . ." I had my shoes on, and got up to look for my shirt. "By the way, we made a mess of this storeroom. I think this might be our jobs when they look at the security camera in the morning."

Jason chuckled. "Nah. You go on ahead, pretty buns. I'm staying here to clean up. It will be cumless, I swear!" He smiled broadly, and brought his hand down to his penis where he gently pumped.

"I hope so," I said, finally with my shirt back on. "Well, see ya." I took one last glance at him (well, at his penis, I admit—I'm only human!) and left the storeroom, hoping no one would see where I had just come from and find Jason there naked on the floor. I quickly made it to my car, all the while feeling a deep pain in my butt, and on my sides.

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I was home in no time, but before going upstairs I went to the bathroom and made sure that I had no cum on my face or clothes. I found a little on my scrubs top so I just threw it off into the pantry—Dad wouldn't mind me coming up shirtless, of course. I found him in our bedroom, watching T.V. I leaned over the bed to kiss him and said, "Dad, I'm sorry for being so late. I got caught up in some traffic, going to drop off my friend."

"Oh, it's fine," he said. Though he was wrapped up in sheets, I could tell he was naked. "Now take off those clothes of yours and get into bed with your daddy!"

I did as I was told, and stood before him for a moment to watch his admiring eyes as they passed over me. I crawled in bed next to him. He was about to touch my penis when I said, "Dad, can we just sleep tonight?"

He frowned and looked at me, puzzled. "What do you mean? It's still pretty early, only 8 something I think. I was just relaxing and thinking of you, cutie." He kissed me.

"Well, to tell you the truth, Dad," I began. "I'm sore—from last night. And tired. You blew my brains out, almost." I tried to chuckle.

He smiled sheepishly and said, "Oh, well that's okay then. I just love you is all. We can just sleep."

"Yeah," I said, hugging him. "Sleep . . . We can watch a movie or something for a while though. You know, just cuddle . . ."

That made him really happy. He was practically beaming as he held me against him like that. "I used to really love cuddling with your mother. You and her are so similar in many ways. Yeah—just like this."

We watched some cable movie with Sean Connery in it, but I fell asleep within minutes.

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Dad was apparently called into work early the next morning, because when I woke he was gone—something he never did unless he worked. After washing my face and brushing my teeth in the bathroom, I made my way downstairs—still nude—and made myself some breakfast. There, on the fridge, I found Dad's note: "Called in. Will be back at 430. Get some rest. ;)"

I showered up and, flinging open Dad's closet, I shuffled through my skirts, blouses, and dresses. I found something I liked—a mid-length white skirt and a navy blue button up blouse—and put on some panties and a bra, as well as some lacy black nylon stockings. I looked at myself and slid my hand up the side of my body, loving the smooth sexy feel. I went into the bathroom and spent a good hour or more putting on my make-up—mascara, something for my cheeks, and, my favorite, some dark red lipstick. I was not the best with the make-up yet, but this was the third or fourth time I'd done it so I felt more confident this time. After arranging my hair a little, I looked into a little golden box on the counter and found a pair of gold earring loops—they were clip-ons, since I had not yet had my ears pierced. Along with the earrings, I found the necklace Dad had given me that first night we made love—silver, in a heart shape, lined with gems. I looked fabulous!

I sat down on the couch in the living room downstairs and looked through the morning newspaper that Dad had left sitting on the table. My side and anus still hurt, a painful reminder of how I had betrayed Dad last night. I felt like crying but knew that if I did it would ruin my make-up.

Just as I was about to get up from the couch to use the restroom (a difficult task in my new outfits, I might add!), I heard a knock on the door. I froze, considering for a minute whether or not I should even bother with it. I decided to take a look out the peephole first, but before I could get there the door swung open and Alex came running inside, then immediately stopped in his tracks when he saw me standing there.

"Uh . . ." he muttered, his lips barely moving. "Is Grandpa home?"

Right after he said that Becca slipped through the door, and her eyes went wide. "Umm, Taylor . . .?"

"Yeah, it's me," I said. "What do you think?"

Becca just frowned, and then looked down at her son who continued to watch in part terror part fascination. She stooped over and told our son, "This is Daddy, Alex."

When Alex didn't say anything I walked up to him and got down onto my knees. Through the make-up I said, "Hey kiddo. It's still me. I am exactly the same as before—only now I will be dressing like Mommy does. You understand?"

"I don't dress like that . . ." Becca said, above us, very softly. Then, louder: "I came here with the papers for you to sign. Let's just get it over with and we'll all be on our merry—different—ways."




In Love with Daddy Ch. 03



I stood and took the papers from her. She followed me as I sat down at the dining table and rifled through the papers.

"Do you need your lawyer present?" she asked. I noticed that Alex was still in the room but was keeping his distance, there in the corner. "I thought maybe I could just drop these off with you and—"

"I'll sign to this," I said. "I see that everything important is accounted for here. I . . . I want you and Alex to be taken care of." I signed the papers, initialed the appropriate spots, and gave them back to her. "There."

She looked through them again and then back at me. "Taylor, you do look a little better—classier?—than last time I saw you like this, I admit. Last time you looked like an absolute, uh"—here she paused, and then continued more quietly—"slut. This time you look a lot better, not as much make-up, a longer skirt, your chest isn't bare . . . I could never get used to this, but if that's what you want then whatever."

"Thanks," I said, and I meant it. "I still find you very beautiful, by the way . . . I am even still attracted to you, Becca. It's just that . . ." I stopped there, glancing over at my son.

They left so I was left all alone in the house again, feeling all sorts of weird things, strange emotions: some guilt over Jason, worry that I may have completely alienated my son this morning, some loneliness. I do know one person who would understand, though.

I dialed Lauren on my smart phone and ask her if she wanted to go to lunch. She said yes, she would love that. So I got into my car and drove to the restaurant, a sandwich shop. Entering, I noticed a young man—maybe 19 or 20—looking in my direction. I smiled at him, just to see what would happen, and he turned his eyes away for a moment only to return them again in the next—after I had started to turn my head away. I found Lauren sitting there at our table, a cola at her side in a tall thin glass.

"Hey," she said. "Wow, you look hot, bro."

I thanked her and sat down. "You look pretty good yourself, sis."

We ordered and started with the small talk before getting into some of the more important questions I had for her.

"Lauren, do you . . . think it's really love . . . " I began. ". . . between Dad and me?"

She put down her glass and looked into my eyes intently. "Yes," she said. "I do . . . Taylor, I watched you cry when you told him you loved him. That is real, I tell you."

I remembered that moment, the feeling welling up inside of me for him, and the salty tears streaming down the sides of my face. It felt real . . . but . . .

"But what if I find myself . . . thinking about other boys?" I ventured this very cautiously, careful to enunciate every word.

"Do you do that a lot?" Lauren asked.

"Yes," I said. "A lot. There's this coworker of mine, another nurse, he—"

"Jason," Lauren said, finishing. "I know all about him. Dad and I talked about him. Dad said he knows all about him."

"Yeah, he does."

"Dad also told me that he found himself looking at this nurse too," Lauren said. "He said that this nurse is extremely attractive, I guess."

Wow, Dad and Lauren really had talked about a lot of things. But Dad was thinking about Jason too? I suppose it was impossible not to, with that perfect big body of his . . .

"If, let's say," I said, trying to set this up carefully. "I were to, uh, accidentally have sex with Jason, what do you think—"

"Have you?" Lauren asked, her voice rising. She lowered her voice again when she asked, "Have you had sex with him?"

I sighed, looked away, then nodded my head. "Look, Lauren," I said. "He pretty much attacked me, last night, as I was heading towards the garage . . . I admit, though, that it was voluntary on my part after that."

"Oh god, Taylor. Dad will be heartbroken."

"I know," I said. "I will tell him eventually, of course. But for now . . ."

"You two are honestly the cutest couple," Lauren said. "You do not want to blow that over some meat head."

"Again, I know. I love Dad. I get that now: yes, it is true love. I'm just so worried about hurting him."

"Tell him," Lauren said. "Tell him tonight."

"Oh no . . ." I said, grimacing. "I can't. I will—"

"You owe it to him. You owe everything to him, really: your life, your childhood, college funds, everything. And you mean the world to him. You really do. I spoke with him all about it. He thinks he's found his 'soul mate' in you. You must tell him the truth, and don't be unfaithful anymore. Okay?"

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I sat at home on the couch again, anxiously watching the clock, just waiting for 4:30 and for Dad to return. He was a bit late but finally I heard him enter the front door and call, "Hey sweetie, look what I brought home!"

I got up and rushed over to him, giving him a hug and a kiss. He had some plastic bags in his arms and what I thought must have been a bottle of wine or champagne in a brown paper bag. "What's all this?" I asked.

"Oh, just some Italian food . . . from your favorite restaurant!" Dad said, kissing me again. "Remember that one we used to hit when you were a kid, down at May Harpel Ave? I got some of that and a bottle of champagne for us tonight."

"Oh Dad," I said, resting my head upon his shoulder, realizing again that yes, I do indeed love him. "I'll set up the candles and get some romantic background music playing!"

After we sat down, divided up our dishes, and poured some champagne, Dad said, "Honey, you are stunning tonight."

"Thanks, Dad," I said, blushing. "You are very handsome yourself, sweetie." I reached over and took his free hand in mine.

"I wanted to do something special for you, because of the other night," Dad said. "I mean, for helping out with Lauren but also because . . . I hurt you."

"Aww." I couldn't help but smile, but inside I was just dying, filled with guilt. I had hurt him. "Dad, that's kind of you."

"Well, I am incredibly, unbelievably in love with you," he said. "I would . . . I would marry you if I could."

"Really?" I ask. "Marry me? That would never be legal, ever, Dad."

"I know," he replied. "But we can make our own vows though, right?"

"I guess so . . ."

"Well then . . ." He stood up from the table and went down onto one knee in front of me. "Taylor Rylie Carter, will you marry me?"

"Oh Daddy!" I laughed. "Nice joke."

He laughed back but pulled something from his pocket. It's shiny . . . a ring! It's shining like a star in the dark—a ring, a ring! Dad put it between his fingers and repeated, "Taylor Rylie Carter, will you marry me?"

I squealed with glee and wrapped my arms around him, and said, "Yes! Yes I will! Michael Stanley Carter, I will marry you! I will! Is this—diamond?"

"Yes," he said. "It just shows how much I care about you, something that words cannot express."

We kissed, his hand sliding beneath my skirt a little, and I admired the diamond, my heart filled with both joy over it, and dread over what I will now have to tell him.

But before I can do that we were on the floor in the living room making out. He had my blouse unbuttoned in no time, and was fondling my 'breast' while his other hand explored my crotch where my penis was completely erect, aching for him. A moment after that and we were both completely naked, except that I was wearing his necklace, the ring, and my make-up, of course. My lipstick was now smeared all over my face and his, as well as on his neck.

I bent over him, kissing his nipples, sucking them as if I were a baby with its mother—and I desperately needed milk to survive. I could feel his wet penis sliding up and down along my sternum as I went from one nipple to the other. I licked my way down to his lower abdomen, and finally to his penis. I stuck out my tongue and slurped up the pre-cum forming there.

"You are so tasty, Daddy bear," I said, smiling up at him. "I prescribe a dose of Daddy bear's special semen, at least once per day."

He laughed, just as the night before, and I could feel his stomach contract and loosen, bouncing lightly against my face. I put my lips around his penis, making sure that my teeth didn't scrap against him like they did the first time we made love. I love the taste of him, that musky man smell around his crotch. His penis was in my mouth as far as it could go, and I wrapped my tongue around it as vigorously as I could.

"Son, I am going to go . . ." Dad said, above me. His breathing was extremely rapid now, heaving even. "I can't help it . . ."

With that, he came into my mouth. I felt the river of his semen fill the back of my throat. I swallowed it, leaving his penis in my mouth and feeling it as it became flaccid. I kept it in there for some time even after it was completely shrunk, still playing with it on and around my tongue. I had not yet had my orgasm, but I felt it was near so I let go of his penis and lay on top of him, my penis pressing tightly against his stomach. We French-kissed again, no doubt drops of his own cum entering into his own mouth. In seconds, I am coming, shooting myself out onto his stomach and mine.

Afterwards, we crawled up onto the couch where we cuddled, looking into each others eyes, lost in love. I had almost forgotten what I needed to tell him (wish it were so!), but I remembered now and knew that I needed to be honest with him.

"Dad," I said. "I know that, of course, we are not married. That was kind of a joke, right? But I do feel like we should commit to each other on more of a long-term basis. We should live like married couples do—be faithful and honest to each other."

"I would never betray you," Dad said, before I could finish. "Taylor, son, you are the love of my life, my purpose. You are everything to me, literally everything. I love you. Love you."

I felt like I was going to cry—which was fine now because my make-up was all messed up anyway—but I suppressed my tears. I must be strong.

"Dad," I said. "I must tell you something . . . I must be honest with you about something."

He sat still and gazed intently into my eyes, his lips pursed. "You can tell me anything," he said. "I will always love you."

"Well," I began, dreading what would come next. "I had sex with Jason last night, and lied to you about it."

He didn't say a word.

TO BE CONTINUED...



In Love with Daddy Ch. 04



*This particular installment of the series In Love with Daddy has little to do with Taylor and his father. Instead, it focuses on Lauren, and her relationships with her mother, and her sister, Christine.*

*At the time of sexual activity, all characters are 18 years of age or older*

I had woken up early that day—at 6:30am instead of 7:00—and needed Mom to sign a permission slip for my class's field trip that day. I was 12 or 13, don't quite remember. I do remember going up to my parent's door and knocking on it, softly. Daddy was gone on a business trip, so I knew to only expect Mom. But no one came to open the door. She must be in there, I thought, because no one was downstairs yet—my sister Christine and my brother Taylor were still asleep in their rooms.

Carefully, I tried the knob on the door, and found it unlocked. I pushed myself in and found Dad and Mom's queen-sized bed empty, covers thrown aside. Their bathroom door was partly closed, and a mix of yellow light and puffs of steam were streaming from beneath it and from the part that was open. I heard the shower water, and could tell she was moving around a little under it since the sound the water made changed every few seconds.

I don't know what propelled me then, but I made my way to the door and slowly pushed it in so that I would have enough room to stick my head in. I did so and, through puffs of steam and a blanket of heat, I saw my mother's peach-colored outline through the see-through glass door to the shower. She was slim, had a nice round butt and long legs, and—what really got me excited that morning—a beautiful, perky set of full and heavy breasts. I watched, fascinated, as she turned in a little circle, going from a profile view to backside and around to the front again. I didn't know it then, of course, but I was aroused—maybe the first time in my life. I couldn't take my eyes off of her.

Now I was just about to back away and pull the door back to where it was a moment ago, when suddenly the shower door swung wide open and I found Mom facing me full on, looking at me with those doe eyes of hers. She was dripping—and the shower was still on. Her nipples were straight and hard, her big areolas surrounding them looked like two great eyes. Below, her trimmed brown pussy hair glistened at her crotch.

"Lauren!" she had said then, bringing her arms up to fold them across her chest—her breasts. "What are you doing?"

I fumbled my way through an explanation of the needed permission slip.

"Oh, okay," Mom had said. "Just wait a minute and I'll be right out." Her eyes had lingered upon mine, a puzzled expression upon her face. Then she had just closed the door and was in the middle of another one of those circles of hers as I shut the door behind me.

Somehow that little event changed me, I realize now. Incest, of all stripes, had always held a very special place for me since then. I had never acted out on my desires, but they remained strong anyway. Especially those feelings for Mom. I never looked at her the same since then. In fact, it might have been even somewhat of a crush. I found myself stammering around her, anxious to say the right things. I had fantasies about everyone in the family—in all sorts of combinations—but my deepest, and most affectionate, secret feelings were always for Mom. When she died almost 10 years ago, when I was 22, my sister 20, and Taylor 19, I was absolutely devastated. I had spent weeks grieving over her. It was then that the incest fantasies had started to fade, and I had started to date around for the first time—with a few flings but no big successes, leaving me single though I am now 32 years old. The fantasies had, I thought, become a thing of the past—until now.

When I caught Daddy masturbating to pictures of his own son, I was secretly thrilled but years of conditioning had made me feel an obligation to pretend to be disgusted. It was only later, at home touching myself over the idea, that I really remembered my old dead fantasies.

I masturbated to the video I'd shot of Daddy and Taylor six or seven times, in the few days that passed afterwards. My favorite part was when Taylor begins to cry, telling his father how much he has appreciated him his whole life. I was disappointed when he and I had lunch and he informed me of his brief affair with this nurse, Jason, from his work at the ER. I had told him to be honest about his feelings, to just tell Daddy about it no matter what happened. I went home second-guessing myself. What if Daddy can't take the news?

After masturbating to the video again that night, I was about to call Taylor to find out how everything had went when my phone vibrated and, looking on the caller I.D., I saw that Christine was calling.

"Hello?" I answered. "What's up?"

"Hey sis," Christine said. "How have you been?"

"Fine, thanks," I said. I was sitting there naked in front of the T.V., where I had just paused the Daddy/Taylor video on an image of Daddy sucking one of Taylor's nipples. "How's Andrew? The kids?"

"They're fine . . ." Christine said. I could hear a tinge of worry in her voice, though. She was married to Andrew, and had had two little boys with him. "Well, no. We are not fine . . . I caught Andrew cheating." She said the last part very quietly.

"Oh no," I said, honestly concerned. I got up from the couch and made my way to the kitchen, where I pulled a bottle of orange juice from the fridge.

"Yeah . . . Andrew has been sleeping with this woman from his firm. Her name is Sarah. She's a real bitch."

"I am so, so sorry," I said, pouring the orange juice into a clean glass. "What are you guys going to do? I mean, with the kids too and—"

"I am done with him," she replied quickly. "I have already kicked him out of the house. I am a wreck right now though, sis . . . I was freaking out this afternoon so one of my neighbors here said they'd take the kids for a couple days for me."

I had known my sister's relationship had been on the rocks for a while, but this was altogether surprising, and sad. I felt complete sadness for her then . . . it sounded like she needed me somehow. "Do you want me to come over tonight?" I asked. "We can talk about everything."

"Umm . . ." she started, sounding legitimately unsure. "I wouldn't want to cause too much trouble for you. And don't you have work or something in the morning?"

"No, I don't work the rest of this week. I can come over. I'll bring my things—I can even spend a couple of days with you, if you want."

"Okay . . . if you don't mind. It is a pretty far drive though, and it's already almost—"

"Sis!" I said, laughing lightly. "It takes me 40 minutes to get over there. That is not far! I'll be right over!"

"Thanks . . . You are the best."

She hung up. I finished my orange juice and went upstairs to take a quick shower and get dressed and packed. I decided on jeans and a spaghetti string top since it wasn't too cold out. As I got ready, I noticed that my heart was beating a little faster, my palms were a little sweatier, and I felt dizzy. I looked at myself in the mirror—average sized breasts with a little cleavage, thin but with a few extra pounds here and there, brown eyes, dirty blonde hair—and found that yes, I was completely flushed. I was even a bit horny again—must have been. But it was not the intense Daddy/Taylor video this time; it had come on from thoughts of my sister! It is true that she had played a part—a minor one—in a few of my incestuous fantasies, it was never really at her that any of my most erotic feelings had found a home. I was, I thought, a lot more interested in Daddy, Taylor, and of course Mom. But she was always very attractive, even now at 30 years old. It's just that she had kind of done her own thing while I'd always done mine. We had never been too close.

I drove the 40 minutes to her suburban home and, grabbing my things up in my arms, I rang her doorbell. A moment later and there she was, wearing a dark skirt and a green blouse. She was a brunette, gracefully slender, full breasts (bigger than mine), had a nice butt. Growing up, people had sometimes said she was the prettier sister. That used to really hurt me but I had gotten over it.

"Come on in," she said, with a gesture. "I set up the guest bedroom for you. Gosh, sis, it's been so long since we've spent a lot of time together! This should be fun!"

I followed her upstairs to the room, where I put my bag into the closet. "Well, tell me about Andrew," I said when we were back downstairs, in the living room.

"Do you want something to drink? I have a few things I can mix up," Christine said. "Or some wine? I have a good red."

Before I could reply she was up, retrieving the wine. I wasn't going to decline her offer anyway, though. She came back with the glasses and put the bottle on the table in front of us. We sipped as we spoke. She told me all about the steamy affair between her husband and this redhead Sarah, who was ten years younger than Andrew. Christine told me how she had been suspecting something for a while and had decided to hire a private investigator to check things out. He had come with the news yesterday morning, and the proof.

"I cried, sis," Christine said after she was through with the story. "I cried again today. I just . . . Well, and now we have to do this to the kids—the divorce and all that, I mean. I am not excited." We had finished the wine and had started on a new bottle. I was buzzed and I could tell she was too.

"You are such a beautiful woman, too," I said. "Why would he even think about cheating on you? I can't believe him."

"Thanks," Christine said. "I appreciate that . . . Oh, I heard from Becca today, about her and Taylor."

"Oh? You mean, about the divorce and all that?" I asked. The sex scene on the tape flashed into my mind just then—Daddy bent over Taylor, his tongue slipping in and out of his son's anus—and my heart started thumping again in my chest.

"I already knew about that part of it," Christine continued. "I didn't know why she wanted to leave him though. Taylor never talks to me. But Becca told me that it was because she had found out about him and another man. He had been cheating on her with a guy! Also, I heard he started wearing womens clothing. Did you hear about this? Have you seen Taylor recently?"

"Yeah, saw him earlier today, in fact . . . and yes, he is gay and a crossdresser."

"I am so surprised," Christine said. She put her wine glass down and stretched herself across the couch, looking up at the ceiling. I looked at her moist lips, those protruding big mother's breasts—and found myself suddenly yearning for her as I had never quite done before. And she did kind of look like Mom, in a way . . . I could see it now.

"I have talked with Taylor about it," I said. "I understand him . . . and he does actually look pretty good dressed as a woman, Christine. It is tasteful. I always thought he had nice skin tone, and yours and mother's hair. And about him being gay, he told me that he thinks he was always gay and that—"

"Didn't he move in with Dad?" Christine asked, interrupting me. She had this distanced, glazed-over look just then.

"Yes," I said. It was nothing secret.

"Sis," Christine said. Then, slowly, "I know that Dad and Taylor are having sex. Becca told me about it. She said that you . . . knew also."

I think I went pale then. I put down my wine glass and hugged myself, trying to figure out what to say next. I didn't get the chance since Christine just continued.

"I know you're okay with it," she said. "I also know that . . . Well, how you felt about Mom when we were teenagers. I found your files, on the computer in our room. The ones that contained those stories of yours, the ones about Dad and Taylor, and especially Mom. You wrote poems about her."

I swallowed, and reached for my wine glass again. "Christine," I began, searching for words. "I might have to tell you—"

"I read the stories about me too, Lauren. You didn't seem to like me much though—I was kind of just there in your big orgy fantasies or whatever they were." Christine flicked her hair back and smiled at me, her tongue sticking out very slightly. "What, don't you find me attractive, sis?"

"Well, growing up you and I were just never close," I said, honest, and sipped my wine. "You see, the fantasies are about more than just sex. It's hard to explain. I think that Taylor and Daddy see the same thing now, though. It's all about being very, very close to someone you love in an altogether more profound and affectionate way than a simple family relationship is alone. Does this make sense?"

Christine reached out and touched me on my thigh, that smile still on her lips. "Well," she said, sitting up and scooting over next to me. "I need that kind of intimacy, sis . . . right now, in my time of need." She rubbed my thigh and put her arm around my back.

"You are drunk, Christine," I said, my heart going wild in my chest. I was already getting wet down there. "You might . . . Well, are you sure you want this?"

"I want you," she replied. With that she leaned towards me and kissed me lightly on the lips. "You're my big sister, and I need you right now." Her hand slid up my jeans from my thigh to my pussy, which she began rubbing gently. She kissed me again.

"Oh, Christine," I exclaimed softly. "That feels so good, but . . . I mean, our relationship will never be the same again. We will always remember this when we're around each other."

She seemed to not even be listening anymore. Her lips had come down upon my exposed neck now, as she continued to rub me between my legs. I put my arm around her, on her butt, and pulled her closer to me. With my other hand I touched one of her breasts through her shirt. It was soft, giving way beneath the light pressure of my fingers. I ran my thumb around her hard nipple there, feeling it there behind her bra. In another moment, I found myself unbuttoning her blouse, starting at the top.

"You have great breasts," I said to her, looking down. "You have Mom's—Mommy's—breasts."

Christine chuckled. "Yeah, you would know! I wouldn't! I wasn't the weird sister with a crush on her own mother!" I could tell she was joking . . . even being flirtatious. I kissed her again on the lips as she continued to vigorously touch my moist pussy. I felt her tongue slide in and then out of my mouth, flipping up against my top teeth every so often.

Meanwhile, I continued to fumble, awkwardly, at her blouse. I finally managed to have all buttons undone. Christine could tell and so she drew back a little from me and helped me slip the shirt from her. She leaned back, her bra in view. I put my hands on her bare shoulders, kissed her, and turned her around a little just so I could reach her bra strap. I did, and carefully unclipped it. Turning back to face me, she smiled and let the bra drop. Her breasts really were just like Mom's—dark hard nipples, big areolas.

"Do you want to suck them?" Christine asked. She shook a little so as to make her breasts bounce in a cute way.

"Of course," I said, smiling. Christine had let go of my pussy.

"I meant that you could drink from me," she said. "In those stories with Mom you'd always drink her milk, like a baby."

"Umm . . ." I bit my lip, looking into her eyes now. "But . . . you're not Mom, Christine."

"I know," she said. "But I am a mother. And I have the mother's instincts. I want to feed you . . . daughter." She winked at me, and smiled. "Go ahead, Lauren."

"Can I put my head in your lap?" I asked, finally deciding to do it.

Christine nodded. "First . . . let's get all naked," I said.

After stripping off all of our clothes—my own breasts so small compared to hers—I arranged myself so that I was lying on the couch with my head in her lap. I looked up and her breasts swelled above my face. "I'm ready, Mommy," I said, my voice breaking.

"Okay sweetie pie," Christine said. She bent slightly so that her right nipple was next to my lips. I took it into my mouth and sucked, and sucked, and sucked. And, what's more—I drank. I loved the taste of the warm milk upon my tongue, and the slurping noises I had to make while drinking from her. "There, there, cutie," Christine said now, her left hand on my side near by butt. She slid it down and again pressed it against my pussy, rubbing. I felt alive with pleasure.

Soon I felt an orgasm coming on—as her fingers explored the inside of my slick pussy, and played with my clit—and as I continued to drink her mother's milk. I wanted to moan but couldn't because I was too busy with the milk and those wonderful breasts in front of my face.

"Do you have to burp?" Christine asked.

I laughed so hard then that I had to let go of her nipple, and felt milk dribble from my lips. "God, Christine," I said. "You're going to make me laugh so hard milk will come from my nose. But anyway, Mommy. I'm full."

I instantly turned my body around so that I was facing her lap, with her shaved pink vagina exposed to me. She repositioned herself so that her legs were spread out past the width of my shoulders. She had, of course, stopped touching my pussy in order to do this. It was okay; I would be a good big sister to her now.

I ate her out until she shook with orgasm. As I did, she ran her fingers through my hair, calling out my name. Afterwards we lay there on the couch in each others arms, kissing every so often.

"That was so good," Christine said. "Do you have experience with lesbian sex, sis? Maybe another secret of yours?"

"No, first time with a girl," I said. "I've thought about it a lot, and have seen a lot of porn over the years."

"I am impressed," Christine replied, chuckling. She became somber and just looked into my eyes. "This is nice . . . Now I feel like there is nothing between us, at all. I think I understand what you meant when you said it's more than just sex—incest, I mean. It's a breaking down of these, well, barriers I guess, right?"

I couldn't help but smile. "Yeah, Christine. You are seeing me for who and what I really am, and I you. That's what Daddy and Taylor have too, even if they aren't quite aware of how to describe it, in this way . . . I still feel like a sister to you. We've just added on to it now."

I stared at her breasts again, and was about to shower them with kisses when I heard my phone vibrating from my jeans pocket—where it was on the floor somewhere. Christine let go of me and I fell to the floor to answer it. It was Taylor.

"Lauren," he said.

"Hey," I responded. As I spoke I looked at my beautiful sister on the couch, her arms folded beneath her breasts. "Bro, I have something to tell you . . . I am over here at Christine's right now. Well, you know how—Taylor? Are you okay?" I heard sniffles, and a cough.

"Lauren, I told Dad . . . about me and Jason . . . he is really, really hurt . . . I don't know what to say to him right now," Taylor went on. "I don't know. He started crying. He's upstairs right now."

TO BE CONTINUED



In Love with Daddy Ch. 05



Taylor

I looked admiringly at the engagement ring Dad had bought for me, and had presented to me tonight. The giant diamond at its center sparkled in the light from the lamp at the side of the couch. I was holding up my hand so as to take a better look at it.

"It's beautiful, Dad," I said. "Breathtaking."

I turned towards him, where he stood against the wall. He and I were both naked, after just having made love on the floor of the living room. He stood there with his arms folded across his large chest, looking down at the ring on my hand, his lips in a slight frown. I lay on the couch, my limp, semen-sticky penis laying against my bare thigh. It was a little cool in the room, and the metal from the heart-shaped necklace around my neck bothered me a little bit. It lay there against one of my nipples.

"Dad, we can get through this," I said, dropping my hand to my side.

He shifted, and his big flaccid penis bounced a little where it hung there in plain sight. He sighed, then said, "Taylor, I don't know if we can get through this."

I grimaced at that, and felt a pang of guilt. I tried to brush it away. "It was a stupid mistake. Well, actually, the guy practically raped me. He is very strong, and I was caught off guard. True, I started to like it—but Dad, I regret that and I am mad at myself for it." I shifted so that I was sitting up on the couch. "You know I am in love with you, and only you. I accept your proposal. We can do a little ceremony if you want. I can buy a white dress for you, and we can go on a honeymoon or something."

"I . . . I love you too," Dad replied, sighing again. "But—"

"You know I'm being sincere," I said, standing up. I slowly stepped towards him. Reaching him, I rested my hands on his hips, and leaned in to kiss him on the neck a few times. Below, I felt the side of my penis against his, and I rocked a little so as to caress his penis with my own.

"I know," Dad said. He put his arms around my back and rested his hands on my shoulder blades. "But you liked it?"

I pulled back so that I could look him in the eyes. "It was just a sexual thing, Dad. It meant nothing. I promise."

Dad put his hands down to his sides, and then said, "Well, what if it's just a sexual thing between us too?"

I searched his eyes to see if he was serious, if he had meant what he had just said. "That can't be true," I said. "What we have is far more than that. It's special. We have a special, unique bond that no one can shatter." I leaned in to kiss him on the mouth but he turned his head.

"But . . . you are my son," he said.

"Your son who is in love with you," I came back. "Your son who wants to also be your wife. I fell so hard for you, Dad."

"Maybe we should just be father and son again," Dad said, finally looking back at me. "I mean, at least for a while . . . We can just see how it goes."

As he said it, his voice started to crack. I saw that his eyes were getting red and that tears would soon flow. He was starting to lose his usually manly, stoic composure. He was losing control.

"I love you," I said desperately, and leaned in full against him. My penis was pressed right against his, and I felt myself stick to him because of the cum we had shared just moments earlier. "I love you," I repeated. "I can't lose you."

"I love you too," he said, his voice weaker now. "Just give me time, for now."

With that, he slowly pushed me away. I felt tears coming into my own eyes now, and started to choke up. I watched as he stepped past me and bent over to pick up his clothes from the floor. He pulled on his boxers, and was putting on his shirt when he said, "You can stay in your old room. The bed should already be made."

"No, I can go somewhere," I said, though I didn't have anywhere particular in mind. "Just let me pack a few things and I will go."

"Hey, you don't have to do that," Dad said as he pulled his shirt down, hiding his chest. "Please, stay here."

"It's okay, thanks," I said. I bent over myself to pick up my panties. "We'll talk soon."

Dad took the rest of his clothes and turned to me, saying, "I'm going upstairs, to head to bed. It's been a long day." He turned around and started towards the stairs.

I dressed myself and then headed upstairs to my bedroom to pick up some more clothes. As I was piling them into one of my duffle bags, I heard a low whimper coming from Dad's room down the hall. He was crying.

I went back downstairs and then stood for a moment in the hall, not sure what to do or, more importantly, where to go now. I got an idea. I pulled out my cell phone, waiting for an answer, and said, "Lauren, I told Dad . . . about me and Jason . . . he is really, really hurt . . . I don't know what to say to him right now. I don't know. He started crying. He's upstairs right now."

Christine

My beautiful sister lay there on the carpet, her cell phone against her ear. She was telling our brother Taylor that we would call him right back. Whatever it was, it didn't sound good. Finally she hung up, and put her phone down.

"What happened," I asked.

"He . . . well he told Dad something very upsetting," Lauren started. "Taylor cheated on him."

"Oh no!" I said. "With who? How?"

Lauren scooted over to the couch and sat next to me on the couch. She put her arm around me and leaned in to kiss me a few times. She looked sad, though, and said, "I have to go home . . . I will tell him that he can stay at my place for a while."

"He can stay here," I said as quick as I could. The thought of her leaving me, right now, was unbearable. Not this early. "He can use the room I was about to give to you tonight . . . and you can sleep in my bed."

"Are you sure?" Lauren asked. She leaned in to kiss me again, and this time her hand slid down my side all the way down to my pussy, which was already getting slightly moist again. Our sets of breasts heaved against each other, the nipples colliding, as we made out.

Finally, we broke the long, passionate kiss and Lauren looked down again at her cell phone. She stooped over to pick it up, and I admired her full, gorgeous ass. She called Taylor and told him to come on over, that the kids were out for a few days. She hung up.

"He's on his way," she said.

I caressed her shoulder, and said, "We ought to shower up. We're both filthy."

Lauren smiled at me, and replied giddily, "Yeah, I guess we should take a shower together."

"Just like the time you saw Mom in the shower, right?" I suggested, giggling. "Well, Mommy wants to wash you right now, sweetie pie."

Lauren randomly dove in for a kiss, and it turned into the most long, tender, and lustful kiss we'd ever shared. Her tongue repeatedly slid far into my mouth, caressing my own tongue and then following my teeth. She would then, between each sensuous plunge, pull at my lips with her teeth a little, so that we made a smacking noise.

She pulled away, and then we were left staring into each other's eyes as only lover's can.

"Let's go, Mommy," she said, standing up and taking my hand in hers.

I followed her to the shower and watched again admiringly as she stooped over, this time to turn the dial on the facet. She waited a few moments for the water to heat up, and then stepped under the water. I followed.

Just after I put my head under the water, Lauren turned me around so my back was facing her. She put her arms around my body and pressed her front against me so that I could feel her nipples pressing hard against my back, and her crotch right up against my butt. Her arms went around me right below my breasts, and she squeezed them tight as she pulled herself closer. I took my nipples in my fingers and began to pull and pinch them, feeling the pleasure go very deep down into me, through my whole body.

"Oh Mommy," Lauren said behind me, between kisses on my shoulder. She began to really press herself against me so that her pussy was rubbing against my butt, back and forth, back and forth, again and again, steadily gaining friction. At the same time, one of her hands slid down my stomach to my vagina, where she began to rub at my clit again and slid her fingers in and out.

"Baby, Mommy's here for you," I found myself saying. I gasped as she plunged two of her fingers deep inside of me.

The gasping turned into full on screaming, from both of us, as she continued to both rub her pussy against my butt, squeeze my breasts, and slam her fingers into my own pussy. My whole body practically went into convulsions as I came—but still she wouldn't relent, and so one orgasm became two, then three. The whole thing ended with us both lying down in the tub beneath the warm water from the shower head, hugging and kissing each other and fondling each other's bodies.

Taylor

I stood on the porch in front of Christine's front door, and pushed the doorbell. A moment later and Christine was at the door. She was wearing only a bathrobe, with a towel above her head. She smiled and welcomed me into the house.

I followed her to the living room and sat down on a chair opposite the sofa, where Lauren was sitting at the moment, wearing a T-shirt and short shorts. Her hair was also wet, and so it plastered to her temple a little. Christine sat right next to her and they both looked at me.

"Hey," Lauren said, finally. "How are you doing with all this?"

I looked at Christine, unsure of how much she knew. I asked, "Does . . . Christine know all about—"

"Yes," Lauren said quickly.

"I know," said Christine. "And I am 100 percent supportive, of you both."

"If there is a 'both' now," I said, a tone of bitterness in my voice. "This may be it. It may be over."

"Don't say that," Lauren said, sounding irritated. "You two will work this out."

After a few more minutes of talking, Christine showed me to the guest bedroom where I would be staying for the next couple days. I stepped into the bathroom attached to the room and looked at myself in the mirror. I was disheveled, my hair sticking up in all sorts of random ways, my make-up and lipstick smeared, my top and skirt wrinkled. My sisters must have thought I had gone a little crazy, to be walking around like that at all.

I put the ring Dad had bought for me on the counter, along with the heart-shaped necklace. I stripped off my clothes and entered the warmth of the shower, where I began to scrub myself with a bar of soap. I cleaned all the semen off of my smoothly shaven penis, and made sure to wash behind me, between my butt cheeks. I stepped out of the shower and grabbed a towel, which I wrapped around myself after drying off a little. I dropped onto the bed and felt myself weeping some more. I fell asleep moments later.

The next few days passed as if in a dream. Christine and Lauren seemed in good spirits, playing and joking around with each other in the kitchen before breakfast or while preparing dinner—that is, until I would come into the room, and then they would become solemn again. I didn't do much during the day, took some walks out in the backyard, watched a little TV—sometimes alone, and sometimes with my sisters who would sit there on the couch cuddling—and, always, glanced at my phone to see if Dad had called. I wondered what he was doing right now.

Jason

I was on my knees fucking a boy from behind, plunging my cock in rhythmic motions into and then out of his smooth, round ass, while another boy, his best, childhood friend, was leaning with his back up against the huge pillows getting his penis sucked by the boy I was fucking. Kind of a complicated situation, but that's how I roll. Both were 18 years old, and freshmen in college. I had found them last night at a gay bar, and had seduced them and brought them home with me.

The boy against the pillows was cumming, apparently, right into his friend's mouth. His body had gone into a bizarre shape and he was moaning. I was satisfied to see that the boy doing the sucking was swallowing it. He must have liked it—well, that with a combination of my huge cock in his ass—because a moment later and he, too, was cumming, except his seed was being sprayed all over the blanket below us. As for me, I had stamina, and so I continued to fuck the boy, harder and harder, for another 4 or 5 minutes before dropping my load into his ass.

Afterwards we all lay there against those pillows, one boy beneath each of my arms, our legs intertwined and the smell of semen in the air. I was out of breath, panting, while these two boys were near falling asleep. I admired their young faces and bodies, so thin compared to my muscular body. Their penises were so small too, especially compared to my penis—which was just now going flaccid and beginning to shrivel up.

I glanced at the table beside the bed and saw that I had received a text message. I leaned over the boy on that side and picked up my phone and looked at the screen. It was a number I didn't recognize, but the message said: "We have to talk. This is Taylor's dad."

Taylor's Dad? The Taylor I work with? I remembered his dad, and I remembered too their little secret—that they were fuck buddies or something. I admit that the whole thing turned me on, and that they were both very good looking guys, the son and the father, but what did he want to talk to me about?

I texted him back to ask why he wanted to talk, and he replied a few minutes later saying that he wanted to meet in person. I shrugged and said he could come over to my place tomorrow morning if he wanted. I'd be free. He confirmed it, and so I put my phone back onto the bedside table and lay back against the pillows with my two little boys.

"Sleep on, little ones," I said, kissing one forward and then the other. "Sleep on."

Will

I knocked on the door and a moment later Jason appeared. He was naked except for the yoga pants he wore, pants which outlined his package. His chest was beautiful, chiseled and muscular, and his face was as manly yet fine as a Greek god's. I felt a stir of lust for him, but quickly pushed it away and met his eyes.

"Come in," he said, motioning for me to enter.

I followed him into the kitchen, where two young men were already sitting at the counter. They were both naked, though I could only see them from the side due to the counter. One of them was holding his strip of bacon up upon his fork, playfully trying to stick in the other boy's open mouth. They were giggling.

"Um, do you mind if we talk in private?" I asked, glancing back towards Jason.

Jason stood in front of the stove, never turning, and then said, "Hey boys, can you take that into the living room? I'll be in in a minute."

"Okay, baby," one of the boys said.

They took their plates and dropped from the stools onto the tile floor below. I watched them as they passed me to go into the living room next door. As soon as they were gone, I spoke up, "This is about Taylor . . . and what happened between you too the other day . . . I got your number from his phone a while back. I hope you don't mind . . . "

Jason turned around, holding a pan in one hand and a skillet in the other. He said, "Please, sit down. Do you like bacon? Want me to make you an omlet?"

"No . . . no thank you," I said. I did sit down though, in one of the two chairs where the naked boys had been sitting just now.

Jason put the pan and the skillet down, and then stepped towards the counter so that he was just opposite me. He put his hands down upon the counter and said, "Okay, what about it?"

"I . . ." I started, unsure of quite what to ask. "I just need to find out what really happened that night, at the hospital."

"I fucked him," Jason said bluntly. "And he liked it. What else do you want to know?"

I felt a pang of jealously, and the same sadness I had felt so painfully last night.

"Um, so was it, consensual?" I asked. "I mean, did he do it willfully?"

Jason chuckled, and shook his head. "Are you sure you don't want some bacon? I made a few too many strips, and I'm a strict dieter, you know."

I felt a flush of anger creep into me, and so I said, "Please, Jason, just tell me: did you rape my son, as he claims?"

Jason grimaced and then bent over, hooked his thumbs beneath the top of his yoga pants, and in one motion he pushed them towards the floor. He was fully exposed in front of me now, as he stood up straight again. His penis, flaccid though it was, was massive—far, far bigger than mine. I was mesmerized by it, how beautifully it hung there against his thigh. Truly godlike.

"Look, man, I am fuckin' hung," Jason said now. "So what? Maybe I did rape him or whatever, but he couldn't help but like it. You couldn't help but like it too, if I raped you right now, huh, old man? You know it's true. Dudes and ladies worship me."

I glanced again at his penis, and then realized that I had my answer. I felt a wave of relief. I looked back up at him and said, "That's all I need to know, thanks."

"What, are you guys pressing charges or something?" Jason asked. "I have a laywer you can talk to if that's the case."

"No," I said. "No charges." I stood up from the stool and headed towards the front door. From my side I heard one of the boys in the living room ask what was going on. Without turning around again, I opened the front door and headed out into the sun again.

Taylor

I was sitting there on Christine's couch watching TV when I got a call—from Dad. I didn't know if I should answer it, or let it go to voicemail. Reluctantly, I pressed the green button and held the phone against the side of my head.

"Dad?"

"It's me, son," Dad said. "I think we should talk."

"Really?" I asked, feeling a bit nervous about what this could mean. "When? Where?"

"Can you meet up today? Maybe, at noon?"

"Umm, sure. Over there?"

"If you are okay with that," Dad said. He sounded like he was about to say more, but he stopped short.

"Okay."

"Great, well, see you soon."

I sat there for another moment before Lauren and Christine came into the room. They sat down next to me on the couch and Lauren patted me on the shoulder. "Who was that? Was that Dad?"

"Yes, actually, it was," I replied.

"Good news?" Christine asked.

"Maybe."

Lauren hugged me and said, "Well, I knew it would work out. Good luck!"

"Yeah, good luck," Christine chimed in. "Lauren is leaving today too, has to go back to work."

Lauren's face became a little serious and she turned towards Christine. They looked at each other for a moment, and then exchanged a little nod. Lauren turned towards me again and said, "Taylor, we have something to tell you."

My interest was piqued. I said, "Sure."

"Well, you see . . ." Lauren began, struggling for words. "Me and Christine are lesbian . . . and we been seeing one another."

Christine nudged her sister playfully, and added, "Seeing A LOT of one another, you mean."

Lauren smiled at her and then looked again at me. "We are in love . . . we think. Just like you and Dad. We . . . we want to see where this goes."

I was shocked, especially since Christine didn't seem like the type to be into this type of thing—but I found myself smiling and saying, "Oh, well cool! I am glad you guys have that too."

"So are we," Christine said, putting her arm around Lauren. "We knew you'd understand."

We talked for another few minutes before I remembered that I should probably take a shower and get dressed up and packed for my meeting with Dad in a couple hours. I left Christine and Lauren on the couch, cuddling and whispering and kissing each other giddily.

After showering, I chose a modest, practically knee length sun dress, and put on some light make up and lipstick after doing my hair. I was about to put on some heels, but instead chose simple flats. I put some spray into my hair and I was finally ready. All except for the heart-shaped necklace, which I put on now, and the engagement ring, which I also put on. I was ready.




In Love with Daddy Ch. 05



Will

I heard the doorbell ring and I knew it was him. I went to the door and saw that yes, it was him. He stood there in the sun and looked as glorious as an angel. He wore this cute little dress, and was standing there holding his purse against his side. He was smiling nervously as he saw me, and then bit his lip a little.

"Hey," I said.

"Hey."

"Come on in," I said.

He followed me into the kitchen, where I had set up a little lunch for us. I had cheese and wine, and some hummus and warm pita bread. I had picked up this stuff from the store less than thirty minutes before.

We sat down opposite one another and started to eat and drink. The conversation was pretty normal at this point, consisting of questions about what each had done in the last few days, how each was doing, etc. That lasted for about ten minutes and then finally we started to get down to the meat of the thing.

"I had a chat with Jason," I started. This line came out of nowhere, was not linked to anything we had just said. Taylor went a little pale and nodded. "Yeah, I went over to his house, actually. We talked."

"About what?" Taylor asked, his voice nervous again. "About what happened? What'd he say?"

"Well, it was kind of, um, interesting," I replied. "But he confirmed something that you had said . . . that he raped you that night."

Taylor sighed, and said, "Why didn't you believe me?"

"Because . . ." I struggled. "Because he is so . . . you know?"

Taylor nodded. "But you should have believed me, Dad." He put his arm up upon the table and laid it on top of mine. I took his fingers and caressed them gently, feeling him as my rougher skin scratched against his softer skin.

"I know, Taylor."

Just then, he backed the chair up a little and then stood up. He brought his hands together at his stomach and then turned away from me and headed out of the room. I watched as he slowly started mounting the stairs. Just as he was about to go out of view, he looked at me and then made a "come here" sign with his pointer finger. I nodded, stood up, and went after him. Meanwhile, he was heading down towards my bedroom.

When I got there, I found him standing in front of the bureau at the side of the door. He saw me and, wordlessly, motioned for me to sit down on the bed. I obeyed. I sat there admiring his big, round butt, and how nice it looked under that cute little dress of his.

Suddenly, he did a 180 and was facing me. He had a sultry, sexy look upon his made-up face, with his lips kind of pouty and sticking out. He eyed me, half-smiling in a seductive way. I felt a stirring in my groin.

"Well, well, well, Daddy bear," he cooed. "Did Daddy bear miss his cute, little baby boy?"

I nodded.

"Well then, Daddy bear's gonna have a good time now then, isn't he?"

At that, Taylor stepped towards the bed. He stopped just short of my face, so that his crotch was right in front of me. He swayed a little so that I could feel his skirt against my skin—and then I felt something else, something heavier, harder. It was his penis. I glanced down and saw that he had taken off his panties just before I had entered the room. So he was completely naked under there.

He smiled at me and did it again, this time really smacking me in the mouth with it. Then he put one knee on one side of me, and his other knee on the other side, and put his arms on my shoulders. I could feel his penis laying lightly against my thigh. I had my arms around his back now, holding him low on the hips. Taylor leaned down as if to kiss me—but then backed off, and smiled all the while. He was trying to play a game with me.

Meanwhile, I slid my hands down to his butt, and squeezed him hard. He brought his hands to the buttons in my polo shirt and set them loose. With another squeeze of his buttocks I managed to pull him closer to me. I felt the tip of his now erect penis jab into my own erect penis, just above my balls. Taylor's eyes widened in this wild stare, and he finally leaned down to kiss me on the lips. Our tongues alternatively flicked in and out of each other's mouths, as saliva was exchanged. Meanwhile, Taylor began rocking his hips so that his penis rubbed hard against mine. We sucked on each other's tongues and lips, and my fingers crept up beneath the loose sundress and found their way to his buttcrack. I slid one of my fingers up and down the crevice, pushing a little deeper in each time.

Taylor's lips left mine as he brought his hands down to the bottom of my shirt, which he then lifted up over my head. Just after he did that, I took the bottom of his dress and, in practically one single motion, I was pulling it up over his own head so that he was now completely naked on my lap except for his bra and the heart-shaped necklace I had given him that first night together.

I looked down at his penis, where it continued to rub against mine. It was freshly shaved, long and hard, and red from the rubbing. Taylor smiled at me and, after a few more slow, slobbery French kisses, he was leaving my lap and sliding to the floor, with his face towards my crotch. He lovingly kissed my penis through the fabric of my pants, and then started to unbuckle my belt. A moment later and I was completely naked, and he was sticking his tongue out and licking the tip of my penis.

After a few licks, I touched his chin and gently pulled it up so that he could look at me. "Get on the bed, honey," I said, my thumb caressing his smooth cheek. "On your back."

My little sweetie pie did as I told him, immediately getting on top of the bed and lying on his back. He still wore the bra, though one strap had slid down his arm a little. I, too, got on top of the bed. I approached him on my hands and knees, kissed him, and then promptly turned around, so that my butt was facing him. I positioned myself above him so that my crotch was right above his face, and so that my face was right above his crotch. He quickly understood that I was trying to perform 69, so he greedily took me in his mouth and started to lick and suck in as much and as vigorously as he could. I stared down at his swollen, pink penis and then stuck out my tongue and licked all along its shaft, before finally putting it into my mouth.

Taylor

I sucked on his penis as hard as I could, and I felt more strength in my lips, tongue, and mouth as I felt myself starting to reach my climax. His mouth worked wonders down there. I felt that at any moment I would explode into his mouth, spilling my seed down his throat.

But just then he let go of me, and, instead, started to kiss down my thigh a little. My penis was aching for satisfaction, and so I rubbed up against his neck as his lips slid further down my thigh. Finally, I realized what he was doing: he was kissing down towards my anus. He reached it, and stuck out his tongue and placed it just around my hole. He began licking the rim, and then finally sliding it in and out of me.

Meanwhile, I kept sucking his dick, trying to please him without making him cum. I wanted to save that for later, so that he could complete the job properly. I would suck a little, then just leave it in there trying to just let it lay there against my tongue, between my teeth. I kept pressing my penis against his chest.

A moment later and I felt a sharp slap on my butt, as he smacked me hard. I jumped a little off of the bed and squealed. He shifted on the bed and pulled his penis out of my mouth. I was about to sit up but he stopped me, when he put himself on top of me. We kissed passionately and rubbed our nude bodies together.

Finally, he was there, between my legs, pressing it along my thigh until finally it reached my anus. I gasped as his penis slid into my butt, all the way in. I found myself moaning as he pulled it out again, very slowly. Moments later and he was fucking me, as he'd fucked me so many times before. We kissed as we fucked, and I couldn't contain my screams as he sped up. I was lost in ecstasy as he came in me, after which I came myself, spraying my cum all over his stomach as my penis pounded up against him.

We lay in bed naked in each others' arms for a long time afterwards, kissing and whispering in each other's ears.

"Let's never fight again, huh, sweetie pie?" Dad asked, running his fingers smoothly down my stomach. "What do you say?"

I nodded and kissed his neck. "Yup. Sounds good, Daddy bear."



In Love with Daddy



The moment finally came and, having dressed up in one of my nicest summer outfits, I approached my father's door step and rang the bell. In only a moment he was at the door and inviting me inside. He led me downstairs—not to the living room—and he had there a couch that I had never before seen, and a big screen HDTV. He inserted a DVD that he recommended for us and we both seated ourselves on the couch, him on the right side, me in the middle about a foot away from him. I was so nervous. I didn't know if I should make any moves yet or not, or if I should just wait for him. I had decided to wait, so I kept my distance.

"Okay, let's start it, huh?" he said now and reached above his head to turn off the lamp to the side of the couch where he sat. He coughed.

The movie began. It was a romantic comedy of all things—the type of movie my mom would have liked. A real chick flick. I chuckled to myself. Why did he put in a romantic comedy? I don't get it. But I smiled and blushed when I thought of how cute it was—yes, cute. It was adorable. He was adorable. I turned to him and caught him looking at my legs—which I had just got shaved that morning despite Becca's disapproval. I had told her that it was because of the summer heat and humidity. I had really done it for Daddy, my Daddy. In fact she would be very surprised to learn that I had prepared myself for this afternoon a little bit further by shaving off all of my hair, including even the hair around my penis. I wanted to feel young again, like a teen, and I wanted Daddy to touch me like I was just his little boy again. I had been so turned on as I shaved and waxed my penis that I had cum right there on the spot. Becca in the other room had begun to start pounding on the bathroom door at that moment asking me to hurry up.

"You shaved your legs," Daddy said now. 

"Uh, yeah Daddy," I said. I got so turned on calling him Daddy just then. "I did it for the heat. I, uh, feel like a little boy again." I giggled and he just smiled at me.

"C'mere," he said in as much a southern drawl as he could. So cute. 

I scooted over so that I was right up against his chest which he had opened to me by throwing his left arm over my shoulder as he had done all those years ago. Except now he put his other free hand not on my side or my stomach, but on my thigh, just below where my jean shorts cut off. He squeezed my leg once and then began to softly, smoothly caress my clean shaven and waxen thigh. 

I looked at him smiling and blushing and he looked back down at me only his eyes were now on my lips.

"Daddy, do you want to kiss me?" I asked. Immediately afterwards I regretted it. Stupid! I thought. Kiss me? Just like that? So direct? This is placing him in a position where he either does it or he doesn't do it. No ands, ifs, or buts (except maybe his "butt") about it!

As I sat there rebuking myself for my boldness he leaned in and planted his lips on mine. I was so taken back by it, by the quickness of it, the softness, the silkiness of his nice juicy lips right up against mine! I didn't know what to do. 

My heart pounded, my blood boiled, and I felt like fainting just then. I don't even know how much of that first awkward kiss I actually felt since my senses must have been so shot by it but I know for sure that the second kiss was good. Better than good. It was long and wet and our mouths twisted against each other, intense but gentle at the same time, like heaven and hell wrapped in one. On the third kiss I wrapped my lips around his upper lip and sucked, loving the taste of him, of his saliva entering my mouth.

While we kissed his hand on my thigh crept up towards my crotch area, not yet touching my penis but just below it and down deep between the crack between my legs towards where my butt was. He rubbed there firmly but kindly, up and down. But most of my attention was with his lips.

"Oh Daddy," I called out between a kiss. "I—"

"Dad, you home?" A voice. Again. Another one, dammit! A woman's voice this time. My sister! Damn her to hell!

Dad withdrew his lips from mine but continued to look at my eyes. He was panting. "Yeah, I'm here Lauren!" he called out. "Me and Taylor were watching a movie . . ." He smiled sadly and squeezed my thigh. "I'll be up in a minute!" 

With that he stood up. There was a bump in his pants. There was a bump in my pants too. He looked at me quickly before grabbing a coat that he had lying on a table there and putting it up against his crotch. He went upstairs and began talking with Lauren.

I sat there dismayed, disappointed, but at the same time unbelievably happy. I had just made out with my Dad, my Daddy dear. I blushed as at the thought my penis pushed up harder against my jeans. I looked down and there was a slight dark spot where pre-cum had wetted the fabric. I got up and ran to the bathroom where I splashed some water on myself so that I could pretend like I had just had an accident with the sink not in my pants.

The rest of the night was lame. Apparently Dad had forgotten that he had planned to have her spend the night since she had some business to do in the city the next morning. Although Dad seemed totally normal and hardly talked or even glanced at me, I couldn't keep my eyes off of him, wondering all the while what would happen next, if anything would happen next.

I had to go home to put Alex to bed that night—it was my turn—so I said my goodbyes and went back out to my car. That night I had tried to call Dad but he didn't answer. He had said earlier that week that he would be busy at the office. Well, busy at the office except for Wednesday night of course, which had been blown so badly.

I was starting to doubt myself, to think that maybe Dad had been freaked out by what had happened the other night. Maybe it was just an emotional moment, something that had just happened but didn't necessarily mean anything. I spent the whole rest of that week sitting there lonely at nights on my computer watching gay porn all by myself and beating myself off to the thought of those fingers against my thigh. Oh, Daddy, how I wanted you so bad those terrible, dark nights. 

Needless to say, really, Becca was completely surprised and disappointed in me for shaving myself. She said that she wasn't a lesbian. What did I care? She could do whatever or whoever she wanted, I told her. She had got so angry that night that she had kicked me out of the bedroom and had sent me downstairs to the couch. All the better for me so as to make it easier to sneak to the office computer that night!

After trying his cell phone all week long, and getting no answer but leaving messages asking him if he wanted to "meet up and talk" Dad returned my calls.

"Hello, Dad?"

"Taylor," he said. "What are you doing tonight?"

"Nothing," I was quick to answer. "Nothing at all. What are, uh, you doing?"

"I want to know if you would like to come over at about 10 tonight, so that we can talk . . ."

"Uh, yeah, Dad," I said. I swallowed. "Sure. 10. Sounds great. I'll be there."

"Okay," he said. "I am driving home from downtown . . . I spent a little time there today running some errands. But I want to see you tonight after I get home and after I prepare a few things."

With that he hung up and I rushed to my bedroom to get myself ready for the evening. Thankfully, Becca was gone with Alex visiting her parent's place, probably to complain about me of course. So I had free reign over the whole bedroom and the whole bathroom to get myself ready for the night. I applied fresh wax to all of my previously hairy areas and then I reached in my drawer and at the bottom part of it, hidden beneath some towels I had an enema kit that I had taken from the ER last week. I wanted to clean myself out a bit, feel fresh and clean for the big date! After taking a shower I went back into the bedroom and found the panties that I had bought myself a couple of days before. I slid them on and admired myself in the mirror and at the bulge there beneath the black silky cloth. All this being done, I dressed in short shorts and a button up Hawaii-style shirt. 

I glanced at my watch: 9:44. Time to leave.

The drive over seemed so short! Too short! I was so nervous, but so excited at the same moment. How would it be? Would I do well? Would this even go through? Maybe I was preparing myself for the wrong thing to happen; maybe he would tell me it was wrong and we would stop right here and now. Maybe, maybe, maybe. All of it ran through my clouded and overactive mind.

I cleared my throat and, standing and trying to calm my breathing on the doorstep, I reached out and rang the doorbell. In about a minute Dad came to the door and opening it wide invited me in. He looked great in an open polo shirt and some khaki shorts. He had even done his hair. And what was this? Cologne! He was wearing cologne!

"Come this way, Taylor," he said and reached out for my hand. I took his generously as he led us around the house. "Upstairs, if you don't mind."

"No problem, Daddy," I said, my voice almost catching in my throat as he led us up the narrow set of stairs. It was dark up there. I knew where we were going: to his bedroom.

We arrived at the door and I realized that it was filled with dim light, candle light in fact. He had set up candles around the bed and on the dresser and side tables. There was a bottle of champagne and two glasses next to one of the candles there on the side table. And on the bed—that big fluffy glorious bed—there was set a dark black jewelry box and a dozen long stem red roses.

"Oh Daddy," I said, gasping and bringing my free hand to my throat. "It's beautiful."

"Don't say anything just yet," he said, leading me to sit on the bed next to him. Just ahead of us was a mirror and I looked at my ghost white reflection there and wondered if all of this was just a dream. "I have something for you . . . well a few things." With this he grabbed the roses with one hand the box with the other.

I took the roses first and brought them right up against my nostrils to smell them. "They're lovely, Daddy." The box came next so I put the roses to the side of the bed. "What is this, Daddy?" I asked him, feeling the soft shell of the luxury box.

"Open it, please," he said. At this he put his hand on my hairless thigh as he had done the night before. He again brought his other arm around my back and began caressing my side from the back. "It's for you, from me."

My mouth wide, I opened the little box and heard it snap quietly. It was a necklace! I raised it to be able to look at it in the light from one of the candles. It was silver, with little gems lining a heart-shaped medallion which hung from it. It was beautiful! I felt like a little princess just then. And my handsome king, my father, my Daddy, was right next to me holding me, protecting me, and giving me nice things. This is what I needed, I knew then. I didn't care how wrong or taboo this was. I needed a strong man to take care of me.

"Oh Daddy!" I called out and turned to him. "Daddy, it's wonderful!" I leaned over and hugged him. On my return I stopped just in front of his face and softly kissed his lips. There was a gentle slapping sound as we parted.

"I want to see what it looks like on you," Daddy said.

I took it out of the box and started to put it around my neck when he stopped me, saying, "No, Taylor. I want to see what it looks like on you."

I instantly knew what he meant. We had such a connection now, at this gorgeous intimate moment. I nodded and slowly got to my feet. Standing directly in front of him, I carefully began to strip. I didn't have to worry about my shoes since I had removed them upon entering his house, so I started with my button up shirt. One by one I undid the buttons as he sat there watching my every movement. I got them all undone and sloughed off the shirt, letting it drop towards the carpet. I brought my hands down to my belt buckle and pulled it loose. Almost done. Last of all, I unzipped my jeans and let them drop from me. Now I only stood there in my panties.

Daddy reached out and touched my stomach just then, caressing it gently, nurturing it. Below my stomach my penis shot as forward as it could go in the confines which the panties allowed it, a giant bulge.

"Daddy, I want you to place a baby inside of me," I said.

Daddy kept on fondling my stomach, running his fingers gently, slowly over my skin, his fingers brushing my navel.

"I want to have my own baby," I said, taking his hands now and guiding them towards my upper chest now, onto my nipples. "I want to have my own baby brother grow all up inside of me!" I giggled as his thumbs rubbed my nipples. "Daddy, can you make me have a baby? Your baby?"

He was breathing hard now watching me and touching me. "Oh yes, son," he said now. "I will give you a baby."

I smiled playfully and let go of his hands. "Hey Daddy," I said. "You gotta see me with your fancy little bitty necklace on, remember?"

He smiled and brought his hands smoothly down my sides towards my panties. Tugging his fingers beneath the top of the panties he pulled them down off of my hairless shaven legs. My penis glared at his face, pulsating as blood pumped it to even greater heights. I reached over to his side and took the necklace he had given me. I put it around my neck and then said, "Ta-dah!" Giggling, I rocked my bare hips from side to side, my arms outstretched. "Do you like it, Daddy bear?" I turned around slowly, my butt now in his face.

I was about to come around again to face him when I felt his hands, those strong hands, around my waist again much like they had been that day at the showers before that asshole had so rudely interrupted us. Except this time I felt something cool, wet against my right buttock. The soft wet thing was there again in a moment, only closer to my crack. It was his tongue! He was licking me!

"Daddy dear!" I yelled. "That tickles!"

"Tickles your little pussy, right son?" he asked, licking right between my butt crack, deep between it towards my anus. I bent over slightly so as to expose my hole to his mouth even more. All the while his hands were gliding over my body. I felt his tongue slide inside of my anus. Once, twice, three times, the last time almost all the way. 

"Oh, you taste so good!" he called out.

"Daddy, I want to taste you too," I said now, rocking softly from side to side, my hands on his. His tongue withdrew from my anus and his strong hands turned me around so that my penis was again directly in front of him. "I want to have your cute little sperm go into my little mouth here"—in saying this I was pointing at my mouth—"so that our child can find its way into my tummy down here!" I patted myself on the stomach. "So how 'bout you skittle outta those clothes of yours and be a good Daddy?"

I took him by the shoulders to balance myself and put first one knee and then the other on the bed so that I was clenching him by the waist with my thighs. In this position I leaned in to kiss him. 

His hands went around my back now and down to my butt so that he could kind of hold me up. My penis pressed into his rock hard stomach and I could feel his own enormous cock pressing up against my butt crack through the shorts he still had on. Together, we both slid back further towards the middle of the bed, my feet knocking off the roses onto the floor by accident as I fell on top of him onto the fluffy mattress which melted away at his back. Our tongues clashed in the spaces between and just on the insides of our mouths. Mmm, Daddy was so tasty.

I rolled myself off of him and onto the side of the bed. "Be a good boy and take off those clothes!" I played.

He chuckled back and then sat up so that he could take off his shirt. There was that beautiful hard chest of his again. I licked my lips. He undid his own belt buckle and threw off his shorts exposing that gigantic cock, hard as iron, straight into the flickering room.

"That's better!" I said. Looking up into his eyes, I lowered my head towards the head of his penis. I stuck out my tongue and licked it. There was some pre-cum there. Tasted salty. I licked it again, this time wrapping my tongue around its sides a bit more. I smiled. "Daddy, I came out of you . . . right here."

"Taylor!" he yelled as I put my lips around the head of his penis now. I took in as much of the giant penis as I could, licking it ferociously with my tongue. It was so salty, so fleshy. I revolted it yet loved it at the same exact time. I was intoxicated with lust. Daddy began to moan and he put his hand around the back of my head. I kept going up and down and all around with his shaft, pretending it was a popsicle that never melted.

Just when his moans were really beginning to escalate I withdrew my mouth from around his penis. "Daddy," I said. "I want you to treat me like you should treat your little boy . . . I want you to give me what I want in the you know where!" I giggled playfully as I pointed at my crotch. "I prepared myself especially for you, Daddy pooh."

With that, I put my legs around his waist and carefully spreading my butt crack open as wide as possible I sat on top of his penis, letting it slide into my anus as I continued to lower myself onto him. It was so big that it hurt going in, even though it was still wet with my saliva. Oh God it hurt! I felt like crying just then it hurt so bad and felt so unnatural. But it was for Daddy, my Daddy dear. So all was fine. I opened my eyes and stared down at him as he took my buttocks now and grasped me, pulling me further into him, on top of him. In that position we made love. It was love. I kept looking into his eyes the whole while, my arms raised above my head as I moaned with the pain and the pleasure of it all. 

My penis slapped down against his iron stomach with every bounce that I made on top of him, his penis coming in and out, in and out of my anus, up and down, up and down.

"Oh Daddy . . . I love . . . you . . . so much!" I said, each part of the sentence between the bounces on his dick.

"Taylor . . . I love . . . you too!" he called out, clenching my butt so hard it would have a mark later on for sure.

With that last hard clutch I couldn't hold it in anymore. I came. My penis violently ejected streams of cum through the air onto Daddy's stomach, up onto his neck, and even directly against his face. "Oh Daddy!" I screamed as I jolted with the force of it.

Just then I felt his own penis explode inside of me. It seemed like a hose against the walls of my anal cavity, filling me up. He groaned in pleasure with that last thrust. Breathing hard I collapsed onto his chest and then fell to his side, his softening wet penis sliding cleanly out of my now aching butt hole. I looked into his eyes and saw my cum there right against his cheek. I leaned in and stuck out my tongue and licked it up. After that, I met his lips and we shared my cum as our tongues caressed each other passionately.

Tired, in pain, I finally fell down onto my back at his left side, panting along with him. 

"Daddy," I said. "Oh Daddy . . ."

He wrapped an arm around me tenderly and we lay there trying to calm down. The bed sheets below us were wet with our sweat, and of course some other bodily fluids. Finally we both regained control of our breathing and I turned so that I was propping my head upon my hand with the elbow on the bed below.

"Daddy, I am so in love with you," I said, smiling and looking over that nice face of his.

He smiled back and bringing his hand around to my side he hugged me to him. "Taylor, I have been in love with you since that night that we watched the movie together . . . you're all that I need."

"Aww . . . thanks Daddy."

We fell asleep in each other's arms. The next day I wrote this story. So I have yet to find out what will happen next!