I never meant for it to happen. She was twenty-three, living back home after college, and I was just her dad trying to help her get on her feet. But the way she looked at me one night changed everything. We were on the couch after dinner, talking about nothing, when she leaned in and kissed me. Not a daughter kiss. A real one, slow and hungry, her tongue sliding against mine like she had been waiting years to do it. I should have pulled away. Instead I pulled her closer, my hands finding the curve of her waist, feeling how warm and soft she was under that thin shirt.
From that first night it was raw. She climbed into my lap and ground against me, whispering how long she had wanted this. I told her we could not, but my cock was already hard and she could feel it. She unzipped me right there, pulled my dick out, and wrapped her hand around it. “I want you inside me, Daddy,” she said, voice low and dirty. I lifted her skirt, pushed her panties aside, and sank into her wet heat in one thrust. She was tight and slick and perfect. We fucked like that on the couch, her riding me slow at first then faster, her tits bouncing in my face while she moaned my name.
After that we stopped pretending. Every day she came to my bed. Mornings she would wake me with her mouth, sucking me deep until I groaned and filled her throat. Afternoons we fucked in the shower, water running over us while I bent her over and pounded into her from behind, watching my cock disappear into her pussy again and again. She loved when I talked to her, telling her she was mine, that her cunt belonged to Daddy. She would clench around me and come hard, shaking and gasping.
Nights were slower but no less filthy. I would lay her down, spread her legs wide, and eat her until she begged. Her taste drove me crazy. I licked her clit in steady circles, two fingers pumping inside her, feeling her walls flutter. When she came she grabbed my hair and held me there, flooding my tongue. Then I would slide up and push inside her again, fucking her deep and steady while she wrapped her legs around me and whispered how much she loved me, how she wanted me to come in her. I always did, pumping thick loads deep into her while she moaned and milked every drop.
We knew it was wrong. That only made it hotter. Sometimes she would call me while I was at work, describe exactly what she was doing to herself, and I would come home early to bend her over the kitchen counter and take her right there. Other times she dressed up in little outfits just for me, crawling onto the bed and asking if Daddy wanted his girl. I always did. I would spank her lightly, watch her ass redden, then fuck her until she was crying out and coming around me.
Months passed like that. We never talked about stopping. The love between us grew darker and sweeter at the same time. She would fall asleep in my arms after we finished, my cum still leaking out of her, and I would hold her and know there was no going back. She was mine. I was hers. And every time I sank into her again it felt like coming home.
