The last three weeks have been a sexual roller-coaster, a maelstrom, a blur of guilt and lust and regrets. Kyleigh, you are at the center of this drama – my daughter, my lover, my evil succubus. I keep asking myself, what have I done? And what am I going to do now? I can’t turn back the clock and undo the things we have done.
Your mother, Maureen, and I divorced eight years ago. I still loved her, but she wanted more than just being married to a handsome minister; she began a long series of affairs with other men and women, many of them just one night stands. Despite that, she got custody of you, and I only got to see my daughter for a few weeks each year, typically in the summer.
This is one of those summers, Kyleigh. Only this time, you showed up a woman, not a cute chunky little girl any more. In the year since I had seen you last, you had developed awesome breasts, amazing legs, you shot up five inches, and your face had become a thing of celestial beauty. I was stunned. You are tall, curvaceous, graceful as a gazelle. And flirtatious. The first week with me, you turned seventeen and I threw a party for you at the church.
You showed up at the party showing more cleavage and more legs than I was comfortable with. Soon, half the men and boys in the church meeting hall were buzzing around you like bees around a freshly opened tulip. You loved the attention. I had no idea what was going to happen.
The pain is too much. I was hoping to describe all the details leading up to the point of this story, but I can’t. The bottom line is, within a few days of that party, you started having sex with the church’s youth director. He’s 34, and has a wife and three kids. His family is now destroyed. You also had sex with several other men in the church, and a neighbor of mine. They’re all in their forties; most are older than I am. The scandal became public and today I was fired as minister of the church.
I sit you down at the kitchen table on a stormy Saturday evening after the youth director and Elder Johnson called me and admitted what they had done with you. They were so penitent, so distraught. They didn’t mean to go so far with you, but they said… they said you were so easy, so alluring and seductive. I couldn’t believe what I was hearing. My daughter? My innocent little girl?
You are dressed just in your pajamas, a blue silk shift that’s cut just a little too high. I carefully avoid glancing at the glint of red silk panties that flash at me when you shift position. Your hair is tousled and you have no makeup. Yet, you are still ravishingly beautiful.
We talk. I expect you to be evasive, like any normal teenager, but you aren’t. You freely admit that you have had sex with, or “fucked” as you insist on saying, five men, three of which are men of some standing in my church, and two others are my friends. You give no excuses. You just wanted them. You are turned on by older men, men who have power or money or reputation, or any combination. You see nothing wrong in this behavior.
Oh my god, you are just like your mother. You’re promiscuous, just like she was. You grin at me, enjoying my discomfort, watching me beg, watching me squirm. In two dozen sentences, you tell me how your mother raised you in her own image, buying you vibrators, teaching you to masturbate, showing you how to dress erotically, encouraging you to watch porn online, letting you read the horrible filth she writes and publishes in online erotic story sites. And how she loaned you out to her boyfriends.
I try to reason with you. I try to help you. You toy with me, telling me how many times a day you masturbate, how your favorite fantasies are stealing older men from their wives, incest, group sex, sex with other girls. I try so hard to find the innocent little girl I once knew and adored. She was there, alright, but she had become a willing accomplice to your lewd behavior. So many older men want to play “daddy”, want an innocent young “daughter” they can seduce. When you begin describing the perversions you committed with the youth director, I knock the table over and run to my bedroom and slam the door.
I’m wide awake in a nightmare. I keep expecting to hear Rod Serling’s voice behind me: “Consider the case of this man, a minister of god, responsible for holding back the armies of lust and licentiousness, only to find his efforts sabotaged by his own daughter, who…”
I cry. I turn off the lights and pray to god for strength. But images keep flashing through my brain, images of you calling the youth director “daddy” as he slipped his hand inside your panties, and of Elder Johnson being so careless in his lust for you, that he got stupid and let his wife catch him with his erection in your mouth.
I turn on the lights. I cry some more. I try to pray but it’s useless. I have an erection. Oh, god, isn’t this just the last straw? How much more of this must I take?
I can’t sleep, I can’t even lay still. Your red silk panties flash at me. The lewd look on your face as you tell me about the youth director. Your coy, sultry words repeat over and over in my head and my erection throbs painfully. I try to close my eyes.
Somehow, I know it’s a dream, but that doesn’t give me any control. I’m spread-eagle against the wall of my church, behind the pulpit. I can’t move. You stand before me, naked, grinning up into my face. You get closer, and I see I have an erection. I feel ashamed and frightened. Your mouth ever so slowly surrounds my penis, as your lovely eyes bore into mine. I hear your voice whisper in my ear, Daddy, you know you want to fuck your little princess, don’t you? Please be my sexy daddy and fuck your little virgin daughter. I’m so horny for you daddy...
I open my eyes, wondering how long I have dozed. The clock says 2:26 AM.
I creep down the darkened hall on tiptoes. I stop at your door and listen. There is no sound. I slowly open your door and peek in. Your room softly glows from a pair of nightlights, in dim shades of red. I step in, my hands shaking, my breath coming in fast little gasps.
I approach your bed and make out your young body under a single sheet, your head lying on your pillow. Your bed slowly shifts under my weight as I sit on the edge. My heart pounds in my chest as my hand pulls back the sheet. I reach out and feel the warmth of your body through the silk shift.
You moan softly and roll sleepily onto your back. You remain motionless, breathing slowly. I hold my breath, and let my hand drift up your belly to your softly rising breasts. I feel your nipple pressed against my fingertips. You moan again and your eyes flicker briefly as I massage your voluptuous breasts. You are so lovely, so young. Your sexuality calls out to me, tortures me. One of your legs rolls slowly outward as if to invite me to explore the hidden treasures within your panties.
My lust cannot be controlled any more. I must have you. I must show you how much your father loves you.
"Daddy?" you whisper in the dim light, whisper in a little girl’s voice, "daddy, is that you?"
"Yes, Kyleigh, this is daddy."
My hand slides down your belly again, to the edge of your silk shift, and onto your bare thigh.
"What is it daddy?" you ask innocently.
I slide my hand up your thigh, under your shift, to your silk panties. I lean over and kiss your lips, holding them closed with my lips, as my fingers slip into your panties. Your genitals are so soft, so warm, so inviting, so arousing. I can feel your shaved pussy lips slowly part beneath my fingers. Your face pulls away from mine for a moment. Your voice is sleepy, reflecting no alarm or concern.
"Daddy? What are you doing? Why are you touching my pussy like that?"
I strain to control my voice. "Because I love you, Kyleigh."
I gently massage your pussy and your clit and feel the moistness grow beneath my fingers. I lower my face to your chest and my mouth suckles your breast through the thin silk fabric.
"No, daddy. You shouldn't do this. It’s wrong." Yet you show no alarm.
I've just spent the last few hours dreaming of having your breast in my mouth, of feeling my tongue rubbing over your nipples. I can wait no longer. I tug your panties down your thighs, and then past your knees, then over your feet. You offer no resistance at all. And yet, your verbal resistance has become annoying. Surprisingly, the anger I feel only serves to inflame my lust.
"Daddy loves you, Kyleigh."
"Daddy, I love you too, but this is wrong. You're not supposed to touch my pussy. Isn’t this a sin, daddy?"
I can’t answer you. Damn your reluctance! I lift your shift up over your breasts and lower my head again. This time I kiss and suckle your bare breasts, as you moan softly and writhe slowly beneath me. I'm so aroused. My heart is pounding like a drum. I pull off my boxers and return my hand between your thighs, and slide it again upward until my fingers once again touch your pussy. You are so incredibly wet. Your juices are all over your thighs and making a wet spot on the bed.
"No, daddy. This is a sin. God doesn’t want my sexy daddy to fuck his little princess."
"Doesn't this feel good, Kyleigh?"
"Mmmm… Yes, daddy, it feels really good, but you're not supposed to. What if god saw you fucking your precious little girl..."
Your hand gently touches my erection and squeezes. In that instant, I see that you are toying with me! You don’t mean that gibberish about wrong and sin. You’re just messing with my mind! You want me to fuck you! And I want you to want me to fuck you!
I kiss your lips, brutally hard. I probe my tongue into your mouth. My fingers are pushing deeper into your vagina and you're getting even wetter. Your pelvis begins to thrust up against my hand.
"Please, daddy, don't... don't... I don't want to... no, daddy..."
“Shut the fuck up, Kyleigh!”
I know what I’m going to do. I knew before I entered the room. I grab your arm and sit you up and whip your shift over your head. I squat down, spread my knees wide, and pull your head toward me. I grab your wrist and bring your hand up and place it back on my throbbing cock.
“You know what this is, Kyleigh? You know what daddy is going to do with this?”
You try to pull your hand away but I won’t let you.
