0 comments/ 33303 views/ 31 favorites The Lily Tattoo By: tommanors Although she refuses to believe it Lily has always been the prettiest of girls. Growing up she would make such a fuss whenever I teased her about her looks and, most especially, when I used the word 'cute' to describe her. Her annoyance always made me laugh, but that is exactly what she was and still is, cute and perfect. It's one of the reasons why I love her so much, that and the fact that she is my daughter of course. Now, at the age of nineteen, she has grown into a clever and special young woman. Her hazel eyes neatly complement the reddish brown of her hair. She keeps her hair tied back most of the time, even though she looks far more grown up when it's loose. Still, the way she likes to wear her hair and the glasses that she has since worn since childhood mask the pure simplicity of her beauty and, if I'm honest, I prefer that about her. She still carries just a slight trace of puppy fat around her middle and thighs. Most girls these days would attempt to starve themselves free of it, but with Lilly it just adds to the sweetness of who she is. She has a freshness and intelligence that shine out of her and, for me, it would be wonderful if she stayed just as she is forever. Lily and I had always had a special bond. From the moment she was born I felt a deep need to be inextricably linked to every aspect of her life. I was the one that chose her name and the day straight after she was born I did something wholly uncharacteristic. I went out and had a small image of a flower (a lily of course) inked onto my chest just above my left nipple. Her mother was horrified and thought that I had gone mad, but that tattoo somehow signified for me the pride and love that I felt about being Lily's father. That love has deepened and grown over the years. She has become a bright, beautiful and thoughtful young woman who makes me smile whenever I think about her. But it is more than that. I didn't see it coming but, even if I had, I couldn't have done anything to stop it. I know that now. It was about the time of her eighteenth birthday when I began to realise that the way I felt about her went beyond what a father would normally feel for his daughter. It took me a while to recognise it and work it out for myself but it was at that time when I began to sense something. I remember how uncomfortable I felt when she started going out with boys. I am sure that every father shares those fears about the safety and happiness of his daughter but there was something else that gnawed at me. It wasn't just concern for her welfare. I wanted to protect her from the big bad world and I'm sure that is a natural response of a father to his daughter's growing up. But I wanted to keep her to myself. I had this nagging sense that I didn't want to share something so precious to me with other people. **** In a strange way, my divorce from Lily's mother proved to be something that brought Lily and me closer than we had ever been. The weekends that she spent with me in my little apartment in the quiet town that I had moved to were heaven. She fussed around like a mother hen, determined to make the place clean and comfortable for her useless and wholly undomesticated dad and I enjoyed going along with the idea of her looking after me. We spent long afternoons exploring the streets and surroundings of a place that was new to us and it became something that we shared together at the exclusion of the rest of the world. I loved that. We went out of our way to make the most of the time we had together and I treasured the thought that Lily wanted and needed to spend that time with me and me alone. I also treasured the night times as well. For her first few visits, with no spare bedroom, I had to make do with the cold discomfort of a camp bed, until Lily insisted that we share the double bed. It was all completely innocent then. The two of us laughing as we pretended how terrible it was have to share our precious personal space with the other. And then, when we had finished that game, we would lie in the darkness and talk. I would ask Lily about how she was feeling, desperate to know that she wasn't suffering unhappiness as a result of the way her idiot parents had conspired to wreck their marriage. When we both fell quiet and ready to sleep, I would put my arm around her and hold her. Just as any father would do in order to show his daughter the tenderness of his love and concern for her. Those moments were the most important in my whole world. Those few minutes in which I could watch over my beautiful girl as she drifted to sleep safely under my roof. And then Jennifer came into my life. She was ten years younger than me, good looking and someone that made me feel good about myself again after the drawn out misery of separation and divorce. I knew that Lily didn't like her because she told me so. In that typically belligerent way that a clever and confident young woman would, Lily told me that Jennifer wasn't my type and that she would never make me happy. I knew that she was probably right and my first impulse was to end that relationship before it had really started. She didn't ever mean anything significant to me anyway. It was inevitable that I would meet someone sooner or later and I drifted into my time with her like a sleepwalker not truly conscious of what he was doing or why he was doing it. I suppose I was flattered by the fact that she was interested in me and went along with the whole thing because I just had no reason not to. But as soon as I picked up the signals that Lily was uncomfortable about it, my first thought was to stop seeing Jennifer. But then, without rationalising things, my mind took me on a different route. I decided to continue seeing her because I sensed that it would provoke a reaction from Lily. I wasn't trying to hurt her but I continued with the idea of a new relationship because I knew that it was affecting Lily emotionally. That sounds cruel but, in my head, something was telling me that I needed to test my relationship with my daughter. I wanted Lily to focus on me and in a twisted way this was making that happen. That was how mixed up and ridiculous my mind was back then. I felt some insane need to play head games with my own daughter. I know that I should have left it that. I know that I should have just let things run their course and allow middle aged boredom overtake my life, but I couldn't. When I was with Jennifer I started to think of Lily. Not in a sexual way at first but in an emotional way. I wondered constantly about what she would be thinking and how she would be feeling. I thought endlessly about what was in her mind. She became the centre of my every thought and I couldn't help myself from thinking up different and subtle ways of getting her attention. I knew full well it was madness but I was inching myself along this strange pathway through my emotions. In the end Jennifer became just an insignificant pawn in a game that I was daring myself to play. In truth, I struggled to take any pleasure from my relationship with Jennifer because I knew she wasn't Lily. That was the realisation that was slowly dawning on me, that I wanted to share the most important aspects of my life with Lily and nobody else. I can't recall exactly when, how or why that led to sexual fantasies about her. The sex with Jennifer was satisfying in a basic and needy way, but it didn't excite me or thrill me like I knew that it should. Thinking about Lily did. I told myself that it was just a harmless thought and that, as long as I didn't act on it, nobody was being harmed. Maybe every man thinks about fucking his own daughter in the midst of some strangely curious and dark daydream. Most probably dismiss the notion as something crazy that emerges unwanted from the depths of the mind, but the more I thought about it the more that I couldn't leave the thought behind. It became a preoccupation with me that took root and began to find its way into every corner and recess of my consciousness. Every time I saw her it simply made things more intense. The sound of her voice, the sight of her smile and the sweet presence of her every time there was any sort of simple and innocent physical contact between us. I thought about those things over and over and wondered how the hell I was ever going to find my way out of the swamp of helplessness that I was sinking into. And so I ended things with Jennifer. Partly because I knew it was hurting Lily, but partly because I thought if things returned to normal then my obsession with my daughter might fade. **** It was Lily's idea that we drive to the coast to celebrate my birthday. We were spending our weekends together again without anyone else involved in our lives and it seemed to make her happy. It certainly made me happy. As we drove through the sunshine we laughed and talked and I felt relieved to have her all to myself. We had rented a cottage next to a secluded beach in a place that we both loved. It was a part of the world that we had holidayed in when Lily was small, back when her mother and I were in love. It had happy, if distant, memories for us. I think what we liked about it most of all though was the fact that it was a place where there was still a sense of isolation. That remoteness is so hard to find in this busy world and we loved to feel that we were running away to somewhere that was 'off grid.' The cottage was basic. No TV, a wood burning open fire and a mile walk to the nearest village or a five mile drive to the nearest town. It had the sea virtually at the back door and when the night time came there was a total blackness and quiet. That was magical. We arrived late on the Friday evening, too late to do much other than light the fire, prepare a simple meal and open a bottle of wine. It was nearing the end of summer and felt cool as the light quickly faded. Lily got the food ready and we sat together at the table in the little kitchen, sipping our drinks and chatting about everything and nothing. This was what made me feel whole inside of myself. These ordinary moments when I could be close to her and enjoy her attention at the exclusion of the rest of the world. It was something that I kept safely locked away inside of me, never wanting anyone else to know that I craved the words, thought, glances and beautiful presence of my own daughter. "Are you happy dad?" "Of course, what makes you ask that?" "You always seem to be under so much pressure, what with your job and now that you're on your own, it worries me a little." Her face was serious as she spoke and I couldn't help myself from smiling at her, even though I knew she had set her mind on having a fully-fledged grown up conversation with me. It was so lovely to be able to see that part of her and I was torn between wanting to enjoy the moment and wanting to reassure her that there was nothing that could affect me as longs as she was in my life. "I'm fine sweetheart, honestly, you never ever need worry about your dad. What about you, how are things at home with your mum?" "Good I suppose. I think mum's sort of relieved now that you've ended things with Jennifer." "Why ever would you say that?" I was genuinely surprised. Any feelings that Lily's mum and I might have had for each other in twenty years of marriage had longs since faded and I didn't think it would matter one way or the other to her what I did with my life. Lily thought for a moment or two before answering. "Oh I don't know, it just seems like she wants us all to live closed down lives. She knows that we aren't a proper family anymore but she doesn't seem to want you or her to start again with other people. She just wants us all to stay like we are now. I think she would be happy with that." I really didn't mean to start prying but what Lily had said made me want to know whether that applied to her as well as me and her mother. "Doesn't she like you having boyfriends?" I asked. "No way. There have been a few little rows about that. Nothing too serious but she isn't comfortable with me going out with anyone. She said that I need to talk to you about it." "Oh, and what does she think I can say about it?" "I don't know really, maybe warn me about contraception or something, you know, the usual dad and daughter chats." Lily smiled up at me as she spoke, obviously enjoying my discomfort as she teased me. I should have ignored it of course. I should have cracked a joke and left her to find her own sensible way into adulthood without my interference, but that part of me that needed to know everything about her fell straight into the pit that had been dug in the ground of our conversation. "And do I need to do that, do we need to have that conversation?" I wasn't smiling now, reverting instead to the worried father routine that was probably all too predictable. "Don't worry, I'm not stupid. I promise you don't have anything to be concerned about." She did the smiling now, feigning cringed embarrassment as she averted my eye contact and hurried to change the subject. "Anybody serious then, or are you going to stay your daddy's girl for a little while longer?" We both smiled at that. It was said as a joke of course, but inside I wanted nothing more to know that I was the centre of her world as she was mine. "I promise" she replied, "I'm only interested in one man just now and he's the birthday boy." There was something about her playfulness in these types of conversations that caught me off guard. I could never tell if she did it deliberately, but she had a way of leading my mind towards hidden corners of myself. I knew what was happening in my head. There was a door leading to a strange part of my imagination and I was finding it harder and harder to stop myself from trying the handle to see if it was unlocked. **** The next day with her was lovely. We spent it shopping, talking, eating and laughing, as I revelled in the company of this beautiful young woman. On those days I could switch off thoughts about everything else and just enjoy her. We drove into town to find a place where she could buy something new to wear. In the end she bought two new dresses and I made out that my bank balance could never survive her living with me all of the time. We both knew I didn't mean it of course and I loved every second of being able to treat her to something special, even though I knew that, like her mother, she was too careful and thoughtful to buy anything extravagant. When we got back to the cottage we agreed that we would eat at the little pub in the village, but first, Lily insisted that I help her choose which of her two new dresses to wear. I sat on the edge of the bed in her little single room whilst she busied herself in the bathroom. She came into the room wearing one dress and carrying the other, smiling happily at her obvious delight at how she looked. Her enjoyment at something so ordinary was a delight and we both revelled in the act of her giving me a little twirl. "You look beautiful" I said, and she did. "Do you think so dad, really, do you like it?" "Of course, you look perfect sweetheart." She looked at me with a quick glance and that told me I had hit the right note. Her eyes made just a fleeting connection with mine that made me momentarily forget that this was my own daughter I was flirting with. "OK" she said, "then what about this one?" With that she reached behind herself and unzipped the dress. As she drew it down over her shoulders I saw the clean whiteness of the bra she was wearing beneath and my eyes skirted over the curves of her breasts. She didn't look at me now as she let the material slip down over her thighs. She seemed to pause a while as she picked up and arranged the second dress ready to put it on and she made eye contact with me again as she straightened herself so that I could see the unspoilt loveliness of her body, hidden only by the simple but pretty underwear she was wearing. She looked just as amazing in the second dress as she had done the first and I told her so. When she insisted that I chose which she would wear, I opted for the second. It seemed to please her that I had obviously made the 'right' decision and she rewarded me with a hug and a kiss on my cheek as she hurried off to finish getting ready. **** As we walked back from the pub afterwards we held hands. It was one of those moments that I wanted to go on forever. It was not that I had any thoughts in my head about her as anything other than my gorgeous daughter, simply that it was comforting and blissful to have her with me. When we got back to the cottage we sat together by the fire and listened to the sea outside, comfortable in each other's company as we shared the pleasure of that place. She went up to bed before me, telling me that she was going to read. We told each other we loved each other and she hugged me as she went. I stayed there watching the fire die out. Thinking and not thinking, Just letting my mind wander around aimlessly. It was at least an hour later when I went into her room. I don't know what I intended to do or what I wanted to happen. She was sitting on her bed, propped up against the pillows at her back, reading by the light of a bedside lamp. She looked up at me as I sat down on the bed beside her. Her hair was loose hanging down around her shoulders. She was wearing one of my old white shirts which made me smile. It reached down over her thighs and, being far too big for her, she had the sleeves rolled up over her wrists. "Is this what you wear for bed," I laughed, "this old thing?" "I like wearing it," she protested with a smile, "It makes me feel close to you when I'm not with you." "Come on," I said, "It's late, time you were asleep." I took the book she was reading from her hands and placed it on the bedside table. Then I reached to her face and took off her glasses, carefully placing them alongside the book. I leant slightly towards her and touched her cheek, looking into her face. "You're a beautiful girl Lily, you know that don't you?" "I'm not dad, but I love you saying it." There was a pause and she spoke again. "I really do love you dad." She looked at me with a slightly serious face as if she expected a response. "And I love you too sweetheart." "No dad, I mean that I really love you." When she spoke she stressed the word 'really.' I wasn't completely sure what she meant or was trying to say, but my heart was full of her in that moment. I leaned in to embrace her and pressed my lips to her cheek. I don't know which of us caused the movement of our faces so that our lips touched. I don't know who led the way as our mouths opened slightly. I don't know which of us encouraged the other to follow them as we began to twist what should have been an innocent act into something more. Her kiss was crushing in its softness. The gradual motion of her lips and the sweetness of the sensation as or mouths caressed seemed unreal. She tasted like an angel. My mind skipped back and forwards between two places like a light bulb flickering. I felt the love and care that I had every right to as a father and I let myself believe that this was some sort of natural expression of that love. But I was drawn to a different place now and I could feel a devastating rush of nervous energy coursing through me. The knowledge that this was my own daughter flashed across my consciousness intermittently and I knew that I should stop what I was doing, but I was held still by the delicious sensation of the light swish of her tongue as it made contact with mine. Then we paused. As if we were both waiting to see what would happen next. I didn't look into her face now but looked down at the smooth skin of her thighs emerging from the white cotton of that old shirt of mine she was wearing. The Lily Tattoo, Her Perspective The Lily Tattoo The daughter's perspective Author's note: This has been written in collaboration with my good friend and fellow Literotica author Tom, Lit ID tommanors. My thanks to him for the inspiration and invitation to write my perspective. Since having an understanding of what sex actually is, my feelings for my father have been influenced by matters that are not typically those of a teenage daughter. Of course I could not discuss that with anyone and, in fact, it took me to my late teens to admit it to myself. However, once I had accepted that, I had, near continuously such lurid thoughts about him. I wondered all the time if he felt the same way about me. I knew that he loved me and that we were very close and I thoroughly enjoyed that, but that was as a father and daughter. What my teenage mind and body desired was him to love me as a woman. After he and mum parted and I lived with her alone, I missed him terribly. He was in my mind most of the time and I found it awful waiting for the days, and nights, when I was allowed to visit him. We had the loveliest of times when I would go to his small flat. I imagined myself being his partner and I took on the typical wifely duties, well most of them like, washing, cleaning and ironing, but not, regrettably, the duty I really wanted to take on, being his lover. That said, I think it nearly happened several times, but that of course may have been wishful thinking on my part. We did, however, often sleep together as the flat was so tiny and he had only one bed. Lying beside him in nothing other than a thin nightdress, I was continually tingling with a combination of expectancy, arousal and hope. Often our feet would touch, our arms might rub together and he would lean over and kiss me good night. When that happened, I desperately hoped that he would put his arms round me and pull me to him. Of course he never did. I tried to encourage him. I left the bathroom door open hoping he would see me naked. I walked from there to the bedroom wrapped in just a towel, I wore skimpier nightdresses, shorter skirts and more revealing tops. Nothing seemed to work and I came to the conclusion that I was being silly and what I wanted simply did not happen, well not with a good man like my father. However, searching the Internet told me a quite different story. From articles, chat rooms and erotic story sites I learned that it did happen and relatively frequently too. I also learned, though, that often it was not the father who initiated anything, but the daughter. That gave me a lot to think about. Being a bit of a geek at school, the boys I was closest to were of the same inclination. We all loved learning and helped each other, but they tended to be reserved and a little shy of girls. In many ways I wished I could have been less academic and could have been in with some of the other groups where the boys were not only more fun and better looking, but also more forward with their attention to the girls. Most of my classmates and the teachers as well, I think, looked on me as a 'good girl,' one where 'butter would not melt in my mouth.' They had no idea of the turmoil inside me as I wanted to let the sexual tiger that prowled in my mind and body out to devour the sweet, little lamb everyone knew. So, compared to several in my class, I was a slow starter, but I picked up pace quite quickly. I had lost my virginity nearly a year ago, just after my eighteenth birthday. Of course, I was in love with Will and it felt right to have fairly frequent sex with him for a couple of months before he went off to university. We professed our love for each other and promised we would remain faithful to each other as I waited the year for when I went to uni. That lasted a month or so when on a visit home he told me he had met another girl and wanted to finish. That hurt me at first, but it soon passed and I went out with a few other boys before I met Alan. He was a tennis player at the club I went to. He was handsome, had a great body with a fabulous bum, was fancied by all the girls and the older women, was in his thirties and he seduced me. He did that in his car one evening when we had played a match for the club. It was by far the sexiest thing that had happened to me for he stripped me naked, well apart from my glasses that is. I argued at first that someone might come, but he said we would see their lights for some time and I would be able to get dressed. "If there isn't time, Lily you can just wrap this round you," he said holding up a men's raincoat. I could hardly believe how different it was being with an older man, a more experienced man, a man as near the age of my father as he was to me, in fact a man who when he fucked me over the next few weeks became my father, at least in my mind. It was dad's birthday. I wanted to spend that with him, be alone with him and if possible test the waters. More and more over the past few weeks I had thought of little else than making love to my father. Even the mere thought of it so excited me, yet at the same time filled me with guilt and shame. I had what I thought was a great idea. I suggested to dad that we go to the seaside place where he and mum used to take me. "Yes that's a great idea Lily, we could stay at that pub." "Actually dad I have googled it and it is no longer just a pub, it's a gastgropub and no longer takes guests. By the way I have made a reservation there for your birthday dinner, just the two of us." "How lovely, that's so thoughtful of you." "And that's not all," I said logging on to my iPad. "As my birthday present I have booked this," I said showing him a shot of a lovely cottage that I remembered from my childhood. "Wow that's fantastic, well done Lily." He drove us down there, which took a couple of hours and even during that we had a great time. We laughed and joked, we sang, we played eye spy and talked and talked. It was late when we got there and we were both tired. Dad got the fire going and I scrambled a meal together from stuff we had stopped and bought on the way down. I felt very grown up looking after him and sharing a bottle of wine with him. Suddenly without really thinking I asked. "Are you happy dad?" "Of course, what makes you ask that?" "You always seem to be under so much pressure, what with your job and now that you're on your own, it worries me a little." From the look on his face I saw that he appreciated my concern. "I'm fine sweetheart, honestly, you never ever need worry about your dad. What about you, how are things at home with your mum?" "Good I suppose. I think mum's sort of relieved now that you've ended things with Jennifer," I said mentioning the ugly cow dad had been dating. That had made me very jealous too. "Why ever would you say that?" He asked. "Oh I don't know, it just seems like she wants us all to live closed down lives. She knows that we aren't a proper family anymore but she doesn't seem to want you or her to start again with other people. She just wants us all to stay like we are now. I think she would be happy with that." His reply surprised me a little "Doesn't she like you having boyfriends?" "No way. There have been a few little rows about that. Nothing too serious but she isn't comfortable with me going out with anyone. She said that I need to talk to you about it." "Oh, and what does she think I can say about it?" "I don't know really, maybe warn me about contraception or something, you know, the usual dad and daughter chats." I smiled up at him as I spoke, quite enjoying his discomfort as I teased him and of course the relative intimacy of the subject. I was surprised, though that he seemed to take it seriously "And do I need to do that, do we need to have that conversation?" He asked no longer smiling but, reverting instead to the worried father routine. "Don't worry, I'm not stupid. I promise you don't have anything to be concerned about." "Anybody serious then, or are you going to stay your daddy's girl for a little while longer?" We both smiled at that. It was said as a joke of course, but of course he could not know just how close to the mark he was. The mere thought excited me. "I promise," I replied. "I'm only interested in one man just now and he's the birthday boy." Although I did not think I had made any progress with what I most wanted, I went to bed a happy and contented, although sexually very frustrated girl. Naked under the bed clothes, I soon overcame that, but was worried that when I had cum that I may have made too much noise. The next day, his birthday, was lovely. I insisted that I did everything. I made breakfast, cleared up, fussed around the house and tidied everything. Dad of course insisted on helping and as we cleaned the cottage, which was disappointingly dirty and untidy, we were very close to each other several times and twice his arm rubbed against mine. When I sat down with my iPad and wrote an email of complaint and asked him to read it, he stood close behind and looked over my shoulder at the screen. His face was so close to mine, I could smell his aftershave and feel the warmth from his body. I was wearing a loose top and stupidly I imagined that he would be looking down it and seeing my breasts. My nipples hardened so I leant forward to hide them as I was embarrassed that he might see that I was aroused. His chest rubbed on my shoulder and twice when he pointed at the screen his bare lower arm brushed against my wrist. The feel of his skin on mine made me tingle and I felt that I might faint. I said something about having to get ready and almost rushed to my room. Although, I was sure all of that was accidental, for dad was just not like I wished he was, I left my door ajar hopefully. As I changed into a thin, vee knecked sweater and jeans I hoped that he might catch glimpses of me changing and might come in. Naturally that was yet another of my pipe dreams gone up in smoke. We went shopping and dad bought me two lovely dresses. As the lady was packing them up I went up to dad and putting my arms round his neck kissed him on the cheek. "Thanks dad," I said loving the feeling of my b cup boobs being squashed against his chest. As my birthday present to him, I had made an early reservation for dinner at the recently opened gastropub in the village so I started to get ready around six. "Dad," I called from my bedroom. "Yes Lily." "Come and help me choose which dress would you please?" I had gone into the en suite bathroom and slipped into the blue shirtwaister that had buttons up the front to the high neck. When I came out holding the white dress in my hand, dad was sitting on the bed, looking very handsome "This one?" I asked giving him a twirl so that the skirt of the blue dress rose up my thighs a little His eyes swept up and down my body sending little shivers through me making me realise I was back to where I had been as I typed on the iPad. Those feelings became more extreme when he said. "You look beautiful darling," with what my hormone crazed mind imagined was a hoarseness to his voice. "Do you think so dad, really, do you like it?" "Of course, you look perfect sweetheart." "OK" I said, hesitating a moment or two as I plucked up the courage to put my plan into action. "Then what about this one?" Averting my eyes from my father, I unzipped the blue dress and pulled it down over my shoulders until the front of it slid beneath my breasts. I looked at him and his eyes seemed to open more' it was as if they were popping out of his head. Although I thought I detected a look of interest in them just as I had seen in Alan's eyes that evening he seduced me in his car I couldn't be sure. Looking away from him again and with my heart pounding I let go of the dress and let it slither to the floor. I was wearing my new M and S matching bra and panties set, which was made of white, opaque lace and satin. It was, I thought, pretty rather than sexy, unlike the black and the white sets that Alan had bought me and asked me to wear each time we had sex. As I turned to pick up the other dress, I glanced at my dad and was pleased to see that he was looking at me, but I could not read the expression on his face. I slid into it quite quickly. Being white and fairly tight, it was more grown up than the shirtwaister. I toyed with the idea of asking him to zip me up, but I bottled it and reached behind me and slid it up myself. This was a much tighter and fitted dress, with a low cut neckline. It clung to my boobs, hips and bottom making me look more grown up and womanly. I twirled for him looking carefully for his reaction, but other than what I probably imagined as a sharp intake of breath there was nothing obvious from him. "So which one dad?" "You look great in both," he replied making me wish that he said how good I looked out of them. "So what should I wear?" "Either are fantastic." "No come on, it's your birthday treat so I insist that you choose." "Ok then," he said hesitating a little. "The second one the white one." "You mean the tight one do you dad?" I smiled going over to him and kissing him as innocently as I could manage and boy that was a struggle **** I loved it in the pub. We had a drink at the bar as we waited for our table then had a lovely meal, although I was too excited to eat or taste much and could not remember what I had ordered. Dad bought a bottle of red wine and after two glasses of that on top of the white wine at the bar, my head was swimming. That of course made my imagination run as wild as my hormones were, as I had with dinner my dad, or as I so wanted it to be, my lover. I felt so grown up with him. At the bar and as we were led to our table, I could see people, both men and women looking at us. I imagined them whispering to each other. 'Look at him with his young bit of stuff,' or 'I bet he'll have fun when gets that young bird to bed tonight.' In reality, though they probably thought how nice it was for a dad to take his daughter out to dinner. Sitting across the small table from him our faces were close so I could unashamedly stare into his eyes, using mine to try and send messages to him. Messages that when we first sat down told him that I loved him and then as we drank the red wine, that I wanted him. My eyes were screaming at him to forget that I was a young woman and that I was his daughter and to look at me as a grown woman and a lover. But, so frustratingly, I could not see any signs of that, although I did think that I caught him looking down my top a few times. I was a little tipsy from the large glass of white wine and bottle of red that we had shared. That boosted my confidence and rid me of some my inhibitions so as we walked out of the pub forecourt, I slid my hand into his and gripped it. Encouragingly and affectionately he squeezed it and looked at me and smiled. We had only the light from the moon and the occasional passing car as we strolled the getting on for a mile back to the cottage. We held hands all the way. In the cottage, we sat in the near darkness as the room was lit just by the fire and listened to the roar and crashing of the sea. It was enormously romantic and was the setting for him to pull me to him, kiss me, undress me and then make love to me on the carpet in front of the fire. If only! I gave up, well in that setting I did and told him that I was tired and was going to bed. We told each other we loved each other and hugged as we did each night. Was it my imagination, or was tonight a tighter hug and were my boobs more firmly squashed against his chest? Who knows? Jokingly trying to sound like a mother with her child I said, turning my head and looking over my shoulder catching him looking at my bum in the tight dress. "Now, now we have a long day tomorrow so don't stay up too long." He got the joke, but interestingly said. "Ok I won't, but you are worse than a wife." Wanting to say. 'Well treat me like one and come up and fuck me,' but instead actually saying. "Don't forget to pop in and say goodnight when you do come up," I left the room accentuating the sway of my hips and wiggle of my bum. In my room, I undressed and looked at my naked body in the mirror. 'How can he not want this?' I totally unreasonably asked myself, wishing he would come up behind me, cup my thirty two inch B cup breasts and run his hand down onto and past my trimmed thatch of tawny pubic hair. I wanted to masturbate, but was worried that he might come into my room and catch me. I did the next best thing. I slipped into a shirt of his that I had pinched when mum was clearing out the things he had decided not to take with him when he left home, or she kicked him out. I let my dark hair down so it tumbled onto my shoulders and brushed it so it glistened. I considered leaving all the buttons undone on the shirt, but felt that was possibly too much so just left the top three and a few at the bottom, which came well down my thighs, undone. I plumped my pillows up so that I could lean back against them and opened my book. Although the bedside light was very dim and had clearly not been put there by a bedtime reader like me, I could just about read and, I thought suddenly, it does make for a very romantic setting. That sent my hormones rushing and my mind reeling again as the idea of him seeing me in just his shirt, laying on a bed hit me. At first I had snuggled up under the thin duvet, but thinking about the romantic, or was it now seductive setting I wondered, I pushed it off and lay beside it with nothing covering me, but the shirt. I knew that I would have been showing a deep cleavage, had I had one, for the shirt was undone at the top to between my little boobs. The tail came down nearly to my knees, but due to the open buttons it was parted and fell away from my legs about mid-thigh. Since becoming sexually aware and wanting to be attractive to boys, I have thought, and have been told, that my legs and bottom are my best features. My boobs are ok, but are too small and are not like beacons to men's gazes as a couple of girls in my form at school are. My legs are quite long for my height and are shapely all the way from the tops to my ankles. My bottom is nicely rounded, yet pert and was described by Alan as being like a 'black girl's bum,' although he called it arse. I had almost given up hope of him coming to say goodnight and was nearly asleep when I heard the stairs creaking. There was a tap on the door, which was slightly ajar. "Come in dad," I said looking across the small room as he approached the bed. I loved his eyes sweeping up and down me and wanted to undo more buttons, but of course didn't. Instead, I patted the bed beside me. He sat down. His hip and upper leg were almost touching me. "Is this what you wear for bed" he said laughing. "This old thing?" "I like wearing it," I said quietly. As I said that, I at first averted my gaze from his, but then looking up and into his eyes I continued with a smile. "It makes me feel close to you when I'm not with you." He visible jerked and I thought gulped as well. Appearing to be flustered he said. "Come on, it's late and time you were asleep." He leaned forward and I thought he was going to put his hand on my tummy. That made me jump with anticipation, but I was mistaken and instead he took hold of the book, pulled it from my grip and placed it on the bedside table. Turning back to me he reached towards me with both hands and removed my glasses and put them on the book. He turned back to me and just looked at me for a few moments. I wondered whether perhaps he was trying to decide whether to make an advance or not, but I told myself not to be so silly. However, when he leaned forward and touched my cheek, my heart started to pound so hard I was sure that he would hear it. I could hardly think when his next words crashed into my mind. The Lily Tattoo, Her Perspective "You're a beautiful girl Lily, you know that don't you?" "I'm not dad, but I love you saying it," I stammered before muttering. "I really do love you dad." I looked right into his eyes. Was that interest, was it desire, was it want or was it nothing that I saw there? "And I love you too sweetheart," he said with an unexpected and unusual hoarseness to his voice, or was that my imagination again? My articulation went on to autopilot. "No dad, I mean that I really love you," I said in a near whisper, accentuating the really Wonderfully, but still not obvious with his intentions, he leaned forward and cuddled me. It was lovely and in my aroused state felt sexual, but I think it was just like the cuddles we had most nights even when we slept together in his tiny flat. He kissed, well more just pressed his lips to my cheek. He had such control, I thought or was it lack of sexual interest in me, which of course it should be as, for Christ's sake he is my dad and dads don't mess with their daughters, do they? I have no idea how it happened or who prompted it or even if either of us did, but somehow our lips touched. Just a brief brushing together at first, but almost immediately it became a kiss, a real kiss, a lip to lip kiss. It did not last long, it was not with open mouths, we did not suck on the other's lips as Alan had taught me and we did not use our tongues at all. But it was without a shadow of a doubt a real kiss and one that lovers give to each other not fathers to daughters. 'He is interested, he does want me,' crashed into my brain as I wondered whether we would go further and then, as a shudder went through me, I thought. 'How far will we go?' Our lips parted. I felt disappointed, but said nothing as he looked away from me, although fortunately, did not move. I knew then that I would have to take over, just as I had read on the net happens often with daddy daughter incest. Note: until now Tom, I have followed faithfully your story. However from here on I think it needs more dialogue so I have made up what I feel might have been said He mumbled something. "Sorry dad, what was that?" He didn't look at me, but said very quietly. "I am sorry Lily." "Oh dad, no please don't say that." "I shouldn't have done that, but you looked so beautiful and I love you so much." Hardly able to stop my hand from shaking and so worried that I might have got it all wrong, I reached out for his wrist. Gripping it lightly, I paused for a moment as I plucked up my courage and then thought. 'Go for it.' With that I pulled his hand from where it was resting on the bed a few inches from my leg and rested it on my thigh just beneath the tail of the shirt. It felt gorgeous and so sexy. I was terrified that either, he would pull it away or, worse would tell me not to be stupid. Wonderfully, he did neither, but also did nothing more and it rested on my leg. Again the ball was in my court, it was up to me, it was me who had to take us further. That excited me. "Yes dad, yes you should have done that, I wanted you to," I sighed. Slowly I eased his hand up my leg, as I went on. "Just as I want to do this." I realised that I was breaking the pattern, the procedure or custom that the boys I knew, follow. With them, it was just kissing on the first couple of dates, then touching the tits and finally the hand up the skirt on probably the fourth or fifth date. With older men, that was not the case as Alan had shown me for he had fucked me on our first real date. So with dad I threw the rule book out the window and was inviting him below even before he had visited me up top. I moved his hand nearer and nearer to where I had visualised it to be so many times before when I had masturbated about having sex with him. I opened my legs a little, which parted the tail of the shirt further so that probably, although I couldn't see, my panties were on view to him. I wished then that I had worn the Agent Provocateur ones Alan had bought me. "Oh Lily," he groaned doing nothing to resist what I was doing. Looking at him, I saw that he had closed his eyes and wondered what they meant and was concerned that he would pull away. It was as though he was having an argument with himself about what he should do. I felt sorry for him for I recognised the tremendous conflict that would rage in any father being seduced by his daughter. "Yes dad, what?" "Lily I love you so much, you do know that don't you?" "Yes daddy, yes I do and I love you so much too." Still averting my gaze, but fortunately not moving his hand away. He said very quietly. "Lily this is so much more than sex you do realise that don't you?" "Yes, of course it is as it is for me too." Then we kissed again. Once more it just seemed to happen, but wonderfully our mouths found each other and our lips merged together. The conversation and the kiss seemed to help him make up his mind. I felt his body lose the taughtness I had noticed as I held him, but more importantly, I felt his fingers glide across the gusset of my panties, I slid my arm round his neck and increased the intensity of our kiss, just as Alan had taught me. Dad was pressing on the cotton of my panties and through them right onto the lips of my pussy and my clit. I pushed back, hopefully encouraging him. 'He's going to, he's up for it, I have done it at last,' I thought joyously to myself as my heart pounded and my pulse raced. Almost lost in the kiss and the excitement of knowing that he wanted me and, more importantly we were going to do something about, I didn't realise until his fingers slid along my wetness that he had slipped his hand into my panties. It felt wonderful and I pressed myself against them. That seemed not only to encourage him, but also persuade him to throw caution to the winds. He had made his mind up now and I guessed that there was no going back for him. His fingers found my clit and he pressed me right there. It was like an electric shock and sent a strong shudder through me. I grunted, involuntarily arched my back and gripped him tighter round the neck, which, I think caused him to break the kiss. He moved away and just looked at me. I stared back at him as he slid his fingers into me. Alan and a couple of guys had done that to me before, but none in the way he was doing it. Dad watched my expression and face as he slid his fingers in and almost out of me and, by pulling on my back encouraged me to sit up and look at what he was doing. To see myself being finger fucked was a fascination in itself, but to see my father doing it was simply amazing. I smiled at him and opened my legs wider as I revelled in the multitude of glorious sensations and emotions roaring through me. I couldn't help keep thinking. 'We are going to do it, we will make love yes, my dad is going to fuck me.' For some reason, although I thought I had done plenty to tell him how available I was, it seemed as though I had to continue making the running, to be the one who initiated things and to be the seducer and not the seducee. Perhaps, I rationalised, he needs that to assuage the guilt and doubt he might have about what we were doing. So if that was the case then so be it, I thought pushing his hand away and kneeling beside him. "Dad this is wonderful," I breathed into his ear. "Yes Lily, yes it is," he groaned back as suddenly, I realised what I had to do next. I reached down and gently but firmly moved his hand away from my panties. Looking him directly in the eye, I took hold of the tail of the shirt in both hands and in one movement pulled it up, over my head and off. His eyes inevitably went straight to my naked breasts and my horrendously swollen nipples. Marvellously he was now in the groove and reached out and cupped my breast. "Oh Lily, they are so lovely," he sighed, expertly it seemed to me pinching and pulling my rock hard nipples. "You like them, daddy," I whispered as going all out for it I started unbuttoning his shirt. It was the first time I had ever taken a man's shirt off and it was as exciting as it was easy. I kissed him again and he reciprocated just as he had done so many times in my fantasies. With his hands on the back of my head I moved downwards and kissed the tattoo on his chest, the symbol that had always so bound us together. At the same time I tried, but failed to undo his belt and zip and he helped me. Standing up, so from where I was kneeling we were on a level, he also totally committed himself to what we were doing. As his trousers slid down his legs, I could not stop my hand plunging into and then pushing off his underpants. I now so wanted, no needed to see and hold the part of my father that had so consumed my thinking for such a time. At first looking down at his gorgeously swollen erection as I ran my fingers up and down its length, I then looked up at him as I closed them round it. This was the fourth erection I had held and by far it gave me the most excitement. It was not just the sensation on my hand or the feelings that sent through, but also the look on dad's face. That was part arousal, part pleasure, part thanks, part desire and part affection. I had never seen such a look before and I realised that what summed up those looks and made them a whole was love. Dad was looking at me with love on his face and I knew in his heart as well. As I gently stroked his penis and we looked at each other I was hoping that he was seeing the same look on my face as that was precisely what I felt for him. Complete and total, unmitigated and full love for him. Holding the flesh that had started creating me, any lingering doubts I had about making love to my father vanished; how could something as beautiful as this be wrong? I felt so close to him and wanted to give him so much pleasure from me and my body. I kissed his tummy and ran my tongue down a little so that it touched the tip of his cock. Alan had taught me how to, as he put it, give great head, but I had only done that twice with him and never with anyone else. However, I wasn't completely sure that performing fellatio on my father was really appropriate. Whilst I wanted to show him just how much I loved him and that I was a grown woman and not a little girl, I was worried that he might not approve, although Alan had told me, 'All men love a blow job.' So as I licked the tip of dad's cock I just hoped he was correct. The jerk of his body and the low moan that came from his mouth told me that indeed he did. That boosted my confidence and holding his warm, hard thickness I licked along its length, from the very tip to right where it goes into his balls. I Pumping my mouth up and down its length I was gratified to hear him sighing and saying how wonderful it was. I cupped his balls in my hand that was not holding his erection and gently squeezed them just as Alan had told me was so good. I think it must have been for him too for he gripped my head with both hands as if he wanted to sink himself further and further in my mouth. I speeded up the pace of plunging my mouth up and down him and felt his cock, if anything, getting harder. I guessed that he was near to cumming and whilst I would have gladly let him cum into my mouth, even though I had not let Alan do that, I was a little relieved when he pulled himself out. "You have to stop Lily." Still holding his cock that really was throbbing, I looked up at him and smiled. "Not enjoying it dad?" "Darling," he grinned back running his hands through my hair. "I was enjoying it too much, I was near to cumming." "That would have been ok dad," I said. "I wouldn't mind!" "Oh my darling." "I mean it dad, maybe later," I rather unthinkingly said. "That would be lovely Lily, but you have to remember I am getting older and it's not so easy for me to recover as it is for younger men." "Oh I see," I said genuinely having forgotten about that being used to Alan being able to cum several times quite quickly. "You darling, darling girl," he said quietly just before he kissed me again. He pushed me backwards so that I was laying on the bed on my back. I smiled up at him trying say in my expression that I wanted him to take me. "Ok Lily?" "Yes dad, yes," I whispered. "I so want you. Make love to me daddy" "I want you too my darling," he said reaching down to my panties, but I stopped him. "No let me take them off," I sighed pushing the flimsy garment down my legs and off. I put my arms out in the acknowledged sign of come to me and dad wiggled on top of me, his lovely cock snuggling part between and part on my pubic mound. "I have had the chop, darling," he whispered making me smile. "So there is nothing to worry about," he went on putting his arms round me and squashing my little tits against his nicely hairy chest. "Good," I somewhat inanely muttered as I felt the head of his cock press right against my lips. "You are sure about this aren't you baby?" He so considerately asked. With my arms round his neck, I pulled his face towards mine and kissed him deep and hard. "I am as sure about this as I have been of anything. I have wanted it for so long." "Really Lily?" "Yes dad really, I have thought of it all the time, every time I have been with you I have dreamt of this happening." "That's wonderful, darling, thank you so much." "Then daddy please do it, and do it now, please," I groaned badly now wanting him to fuck me. "Ready?" He asked. "Yes I am so ready," I grunted and then gasped with sheer erotic pleasure as he pushed forward and his cock slid effortlessly deep inside me. He didn't start thrusting in and out right away as the other three with whom I'd had sex had. Instead, once he was fully in me he stayed still, holding me and kissing my neck and shoulder. "Is that ok?" "Oh yes," I sighed. "It's wonderful." "You feel comfortable baby?" "Yes I do." Good," he whispered right into my ear and then he started to fuck me. With slow, long, deep thrusts when he went as far in me as he could get and then almost slid it out leaving just the bulbous head between my lips, he immediately had me starting to climax. I gripped his back and ran my hands up and down it. His flesh felt so good I was thinking. In my sexually addled state the phrase, 'the flesh that made my flesh' came in to my mind. I pushed that out and focused my thinking on the enormous love and gratitude that I felt for my father and the sheer intensity of the sexual feelings I was experiencing. As he brought me slowly nearer and nearer to my orgasm, I at last understood how love and sex combine to produce the most wonderful experiences. "I do so love you," I whispered between deep sighs and moans. "And I do you Lily, so much," he replied once more holding his such pleasure giving dick rigid and still, buried deep in me. Pushing myself back against it and trying to grip him as tight as I could with my vaginal muscles, I said. "I'll never leave you, ever." Still not moving inside me, he lifted himself up and looked into my eyes as his hand found my breasts, and squeezed that and pinched my aching nipple. "No darling, I will never leave you, I want to be with you all the time." "I am ready dad, I want to climax, make me cum daddy, please, please make me cum." Wrapping his arms round me, he started moving again. In and out, up and down, faster, slower, deeper and almost out. He thrust himself against me and I responded by wrapping my legs round him and forcing myself more firmly against him. I don't know how long it took from when I asked him to make me cum to when it was over. I hardly remember actually cumming and certainly did not feel him cum or his sperm shoot into me. The sensations and emotional explosions were so extreme and intense that I think I may well have fainted. The details were a blur. From saying 'please make me cum,' to the moment when my mind and body started to recover from the tremendous traumas, are a total fog. The next things I remembered were: him saying. "Oh yes, oh yes Lily that was amazing you are fantastic," and having my arms so tightly round his neck, my legs wrapped round him, my ankles on his back and with my bum raised up from the bed as he gently coaxed me down from my orgasm. We stayed like that for some time with him inside me. Eventually I moved my legs from round his hips. I looked into his eyes and said as I planted little kisses all over his face. "Thank you, thank you, thank you so much," I gabbled. "Don't be silly darling, don't thank me, don't ever thank me for making love to you." "So we will do it again then?" I asked. "Lily, if that is what you want, of course." "Of course it is, I want to be with you every night." "Yes darling, we will find a way."