The knock on the door jarred us both.
I had just spent almost an entire month trying to seduce my father and he was now standing in front of me, unbuckling his belt. I wanted him so bad, I could taste him.
I was 22 years old, just out of the military and was staying with my parents while I went to school full time. My father and I had slipped into this non-verbal routine. I would wait, naked, for him in the shower and he would come watch me dry myself. I never made any attempt to cover myself. I always made sure I bent over to pick up my clothes or my shoes and it always took longer than usual. I was hoping I'd feel him slip his big, long fingers into my always wet pussy or reach around and cup my pert, 36B's. Hell, as horny as I was, I'd have been up for sudden, wordless, balls-deep fucking. But it never happened.
I'd even gotten into the habit of sitting on the living room floor, after my mother had gone to sleep, wearing nothing but a t-shirt and panties. I'd sit cross-legged, facing him, my panties always just a bit askew, showing him my hairless pussy. He'd stare and, sometimes, I'd see him rub his cock. When he went into the kitchen for a beer, I'd pop up and stand between him and the refrigerator and, being sure to keep my voice casual (in case my mother could hear), I'd ask, "What do you want daddy? Can I get it for you?"
I'm sure you think I'm evil. And, maybe I am. But, I saw the way he looked at me and, in that moment, I was just a woman to him. A pair of tits and a sweet, wet pussy - living right under his roof. And, I saw he wanted me. And I wanted him. It's as simple as that. I didn't want to cause drama. I didn't want to make any trouble. I just wanted my daddy's hard dick - because it was right there
! What's wrong with that?
Call me wicked, but I never thought anything was wrong with wanting to fuck my father, once the thought occurred to me (and to him, believe me!). I knew what I wanted and I set about getting it.
But, my father was proving a hard nut to crack (pun intended). He never touched me and he never let me touch him. I had just about reached the end of my rope.
Then, 'today' happened and I asked my father to rub lotion on my back and when he would've walked away, I wantonly spread my legs for him and asked him to keep rubbing.
I saw his eyes glaze over with lust and he began to unbuckle his belt.
"Your mother can never, ever know," he told me. "No one can know. Ever! Understand?"
I assured him I understood. I nodded and licked my lips, ready to suck the pigment right off of him. FINALLY!
Then the knock came.
It was our next door neighbor, Luz, and I just about screamed at her to go away. My father jerked away from me.
"Don't answer her," I whispered.
But, it was already too late. My father arranged his clothes and walked to the bathroom door, then turned to look at me. The gleeful, dark, ripe lust I'd seen in his eyes just a moment before was gone, replaced with fear and shame.
"Daddy!" I pleaded.
"Get dressed," he said, harshly. "Hurry up!"
He slammed the door shut and I leaned back, my pussy aching and unfulfilled.
Two weeks went by. Dad stopped coming home on Tuesdays and Thursdays. He avoided me at home. He went to bed earlier and stayed in his study with the door closed. I got the hint. He was officially trying to forget anything had ever happened.
You would think I'd have given up. Thrown in the towel. Admitted defeat. And maybe I should have because I knew, even then, that what I was wanting to do is commit incest. I wanted to entice my father to fuck me with the dick that made me. And to fuck me hard and good. I could have found me someone. I'm not a goddess, but I'm attractive. I'm fun, and, even better, I love to fuck. I knew women who love to fuck have no trouble finding someone to fuck - so why obsess about making my father fuck me?
Because it was the nastiest, most luscious thing I could think of. Once my father had looked at my ass and pussy and didn't look away, my pussy got wetter than it had ever gotten before and I liked it. I wanted more. I was even more determined - especially after I saw how much he wanted me, too.
Extreme situations call for extreme measures.
One night, I got dressed up in my shortest skirt, my sheerest blouse and my highest heels. I swirled around in front of mom and dad, making sure daddy saw how short my skirt was, before heading out with my friends.
I stayed out late, closed down the club, said good bye to my friends and put my plan in motion.
I drove to the outskirts of town and pulled into the parking lot of a flea-bag motel, making sure to park in the darkest corner. I went inside and rented a room, the desk clerk ogling my tits the entire time. Then I called my dad from the payphone outside.
He answered on the third ring, his voice rough and sleepy.
"Daddy," I said, making sure to use my sweetest, little-girl voice. "Daddy, my tire is flat. I pulled into this lot, but it's too dark to change it. I'm scared. Can you come get me?"
Okay, yeah, I laid it on a bit thick, but I had a plan and I was sticking to it.
I walked to my car and I let out the air of one of my front tires. As I waited, I slipped my panties down my bare legs and took off my bra, my nipples clearly outlined through the fabric. And I unbuttoned one more button - just for good measure.
I heard my dad speeding toward me before I saw him. He parked his car and rushed toward me, gathering me in his arms.
"Are you okay?" he asked. "Are you hurt?"
"I'm okay, daddy." I pressed my tits against his chest, spread my legs and rubbed my pussy on his thigh for a very long, obvious moment.
My father stilled, then pulled, roughly, away from me.
"I'll just take a look....," he started to say, then his eyes fell on my breasts, my nipples poking out through the practically translucent material. He swallowed hard and ran a hand over his mouth. He looked into my eyes.
"At what, daddy?"
My father looked away and walked toward the front of the car.
"Just stay there," he said. "Let me look at this fucking tire."
"Okay," I smiled, angelically (or as angelically as a daughter hoping to fuck her father can smile), "I'll just wait here."
I hopped on the trunk of the car. I hiked up my skirt, opened my shirt and spread my legs. And I waited.
My dad was talking quickly as he came back to where I sat.
"Come on! We'll wait until the .... "
It was just light enough, there in the darkened parking lot, away from the streetlights and traffic, for my father to see how wet and inviting my pussy was for him; how hard my nipples had gotten in the night air.
"I'm sorry to make you drive all this way, daddy," I said, spreading my legs wider. "But, I have to admit, I was hoping you'd come."
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<a href="http://www.lushstories.com/stories/incest/memories-of-daddy-pt-2.aspx">Memories of Daddy Pt. 2</a>