I was eighteen and home from college when it started. Dad had always been the strong silent type, the kind of man who fixed things with his hands and grunted instead of talking. Mom was out of town again, some conference, and the house felt too quiet. I caught him staring at me in the kitchen that first night, his eyes dragging over my tank top and the way my shorts rode up my thighs. I didn’t look away. I wanted him to look.
That night I went to his room instead of mine. The door was open a crack. He was on the bed in just boxers, thick cock already half hard like he’d been thinking about me. I stepped inside and closed the door behind me.
“Lock it,” he said, voice low and rough.
I did. Then I pulled my tank top off. My tits bounced free and his eyes went dark. “Fuck, baby girl. You know what you’re doing?”
“Yeah, Dad. I know.” I climbed onto the bed and straddled his lap. His cock pressed against my pussy through my thin shorts, hot and thick. I ground down on it, feeling it throb. He grabbed my hips hard enough to bruise.
“Been thinking about this since you turned legal,” he muttered. His hands slid up to squeeze my tits, thumbs rubbing my nipples. “You gonna let Daddy fuck that tight little cunt?”
I nodded and reached down to pull his cock out. It was big, veiny, the head already leaking. I stroked it slow, watching his face. He pushed my shorts aside and ran two thick fingers through my slit. I was soaked.
“Christ, you’re dripping. Such a dirty girl for her dad.” He shoved two fingers inside me without warning. I moaned and rocked on them while I kept jerking his cock. He finger-fucked me rough, curling them until I was shaking.
“Want your cock, Dad. Please.”
He flipped me onto my back, yanked my shorts off, and spread my legs wide. He rubbed the head of his dick up and down my pussy, slapping my clit with it a few times. Then he pushed in. One long, thick thrust and he was buried to the balls. I cried out, stretched full.
“That’s it. Take every inch of Daddy’s cock.” He started pounding me hard, the bed creaking. Skin slapped skin. He held my legs open and watched his cock disappear into me over and over. “Look at that greedy pussy swallowing me. You love it, don’t you?”
“Yes, fuck, yes, Dad. Harder.”
He gave it to me harder, grunting with every thrust. Sweat dripped off him onto my tits. He leaned down and sucked a nipple into his mouth, biting just enough to make me yelp. His balls slapped my ass with every stroke. I came first, clenching around him, soaking his cock. He didn’t stop. He fucked me through it, then pulled out and flipped me onto my stomach.
“Ass up.” I obeyed. He slammed back in from behind, deeper this time. One hand fisted my hair, the other slapped my ass hard. “This is what you get for teasing your old man. Getting bred by Daddy’s dick.”
He fucked me like he owned me, deep and brutal. I pushed back to meet every thrust. When he got close he pulled out, flipped me again, and straddled my chest. He jerked his cock fast and shot thick ropes across my tits and face.
Some landed on my tongue. I swallowed what I could.
He rubbed the head through the mess on my skin, smearing it. “Good girl. Clean it.”
I licked him clean, tasting both of us. He stayed hard. We didn’t stop that night. He fucked my mouth, my pussy again, even my ass after he worked me open with spit and fingers. By morning I was sore, covered in his cum, and already planning the next time.
We kept it going every time Mom left. Quickies in the laundry room, long sessions in his bed where he made me call him Daddy while he came inside me. He liked it raw and filthy, liked telling me how wrong it was and how good my cunt felt. I liked it too. Still do.
Every time he fills me up I remember that first night. The way he looked at me like he finally stopped pretending. The way his cock felt claiming me. Incest sex stories dad never felt like stories after that. They felt like my life.
