I will never forget the first time I watched my father masturbate.
So much has happened in the four years since that night, to us and between us, that I don’t recall the exact date, but I know it was early in the summer between my sophomore and junior years of high school, not long after I turned 16.
I guess I should introduce myself. My name is Kelly and I’m now 20, and a sophomore at a large university in the town where I went to high school. I’ve lived alone with my dad since my mom ran off with some budding rock star when I was 7. I’ve seen my mother intermittently since then, usually at the clinic where she goes periodically to dry out from the booze and drugs that are her way of life, but she’s never really been a part of my life. Even before they broke up, it was Daddy who was always home for me, not Mom.
What’s a real mystery is how my mom and dad ever hooked up in the first place, although I learned that first night watching my father why she stayed with him. My father, to all appearances, is a shy, self-effacing gentleman with a mind like a steel trap. He’s a full professor of history at the university, and he acts the part with his conservative clothes and deferential demeanor. He’s not a particularly large man, maybe 5-10, 180, and while he’s nice-looking, he’s not somebody most women would notice in a crowd.
Boy, talk about not judging a book by its cover. In private, my father is a warm man of few words, but bold actions. I’ve always thought he was the sexiest man alive. He’s just got a gentle sensuality about him that’s always appealed to me. He has an ironic sense of humor, and a well-buried perverted streak that very, very few people know about.
My mom, on the other hand, is a party girl, always has been and always will be. She was a co-ed and he was a graduate assistant when they met. She was in one of his classes, and for some reason, they hit it off, so she decided to seduce him. When she did that, she discovered that Daddy possesses one of the finest dicks on the face of the earth, a long, fat slab of meat that’s perfectly cut, and he knows how to use it. Why she ever felt the need for another cock is beyond me, but the truth is, my mom’s a hot number that no one man can ever satisfy, not even my well-hung father.
I don’t know if there was ever any real love between Mom and Daddy, but it’s hard not to like my father, so when Mom turned up pregnant with me, she was talked into (her words) marrying him and having his baby. But she was a lost cause as a mother, and my dad quickly assumed both roles.
It really was just the two of us. I never knew my mom’s people – they were all alcoholics with money, my dad says – and Daddy’s folks died a year apart when I was very young. Except for a much older sister who lives across the country, her husband and their two sons, my dad has no other family left. So it’s always been just him and me. We’ve always done everything together, ballgames, plays, symphony concerts, and we’ve always spent a lot of time talking with each other, to the point where we know each other instinctively. One of my dad’s most passionate sidelines is his vegetable garden, and we spend a lot of time working side-by-side and chatting with each other.
I think I inherited the best of both my parents. From my dad, I inherited my intelligence and a shy, loner’s personality. From my mom, I inherited her looks, her slim build, and a deep inner urge toward carnality. I’m average-sized, about 5-6, with straight blonde hair that falls to well past my shoulders. My boobs are fairly small and my hips are narrow, but I do have what everyone says is a very nice butt, not too big and not too bony.
When my mom finally left for good and my dad filed for divorce, he easily won custody and we’ve been a pair ever since. And, for the past two years – since the day I turned 18 – we’ve been lovers. And what lovers! We’ve done just about everything with each other that two people can do together sexually, and no one suspects a thing, because to the outside world, we put on our shy act, and avoid any big displays of affection, although for me, it’s awfully hard. I love my daddy like you wouldn’t believe; he was my rock when I was a kid, he’s been my best friend as I grew older, he was my confidante and savior when I got into trouble a few years ago, and he’s been by far the best fuck I’ve ever had, or ever will have, once we crossed the threshold into a sexual relationship.
To see us, even to know us, you would never know the depths of our relationship, never suspect that a demure, bookish little girl like me could have such a dirty mind and a willful sexual nature, or that my shy, scholarly father could be such a wanton sexual beast. Behind closed doors, though, our lives are radically different from our public personae.
And it all started that hot night in June four years ago when I started spying on my dad.
I’ve given this a lot of thought, and I’ve decided that it takes a particular – a peculiar – set of circumstances for two intelligent people to gravitate willfully into a consenting incestuous relationship. In the case of my father and me, it was a potent combination of loneliness, alienation, dependency and physical need that drove us into each other’s arms.
I matured at quite an early age; I reached my current height when I was 12, and I discovered boys about the same time. But it took awhile for boys to discover me, so it was left to my girlfriends and I to teach ourselves the beginnings of sexual awareness. As a consequence, I’ve always considered myself bisexual, and I’ve had a couple of sexual experiences with girls.
Anyway, when I was about 14, I was home alone one day in the summer, just lying around the house, when my curiosity got the better of me. I had often seen my father retire to his study, locking the door behind him, and he’d stay in there for quite awhile. I had wondered what he was up to, and as I grew older, I’d often press my ear to the door to see what I could hear. It wasn’t much, but occasionally I’d hear what appeared to be soft moans coming from the other side of the door. I thought maybe he was in pain of some kind, and finally I worked up the courage to knock on the door one time and ask if anything was wrong. He quickly answered that he was fine, but I’d often see him emerge looking sweaty and disheveled.
So finally, one day I decided to snoop around, being the curious little devil that I am. At first, all I found were history books and papers, but I finally found the key to Daddy’s locked file cabinet and found his stash of porno magazines. To say I was shocked was an understatement. I leafed through a few of them then put them away in what was a mixture of disgust and excitement. I was naïve and thought my father wasn’t like most men, not realizing that he was a male, and a male who needed sexual relief. And, since Mom was gone and he wasn’t dating, I guess he had naturally turned to self-relief.
It was several months before I succumbed to the urge to snoop again. I had told my best friend, Beth, what I had found, and she told me she snuck in and looked at, not only her dad’s magazines, but also those of her older brother all the time. A few weeks later, when she had invited me over for a sleepover, we snuck into her brother’s stash, and this time I looked – really looked. And what I saw frankly turned me on – turned my friend on, too – and soon our fingers were doing brisk arpeggios on each other’s clits.
That was my very first sexual experience, when I first learned how to masturbate and reach an orgasm. I found I loved to come. The feelings of pleasure unlocked a door to my sexual psyche that would never again completely be closed. Moreover, I found that looking at porn, especially porn with men involved, got me hotter than a pistol in no time.
So, I began sneaking into my father’s study whenever he was away, and would pull out his books and magazines and frig myself to a frothy orgasm flipping through the pages. I know most women, not to mention girls of the age I was at the time, are not supposed to become aroused by porn. But I’m not most women, and I loved it. Beth and I spent many a sleepover looking at dirty magazines and masturbating. Sometimes we did ourselves and sometimes we did each other, but we never did take the next step to oral. That would have been a tilt toward lesbianism that we weren’t quite ready to take.
It was a few months after that when my father announced that he had accepted a new position at a university a couple of hundred miles away. At first I was devastated at the prospect of leaving familiar surroundings and all my friends for a strange town. Of course, looking at it rationally, I knew Daddy was right, as always. It was a full professorship, which he had not had previously, and the time was right where I was concerned. Truth is, the neighborhood where we lived had slowly declined over the previous few years; in fact, there had been a couple of break-ins on our street in the previous months, and Daddy was concerned about my safety. And the high school where I went my freshman year was mediocre and getting worse every year.
The new high school I enrolled in was very good, a bit competitive for my tastes, but it was nevertheless a top-quality education. And our new home was just about the coolest place I’d ever seen. It was fairly old and cozy, a cottage almost, and it was set back from a quiet street via a long drive. A row of medium-sized trees screened the front and both sides of the house, and the house backed right onto a thick patch of woods.
I spent my sophomore year becoming acclimated to my new surroundings, but it wasn’t easy. I missed my old friends, and my low-key personality kept me invisible (I thought) for most of the year. So I spent a lot of time alone roaming the woods behind our house, and I quickly discovered that my father’s new office looked out toward the back, toward the woods. The office looked like it had been added after the house was built and was not built with the same kind of windows as the rest of the house, meaning it didn’t have blinds or curtains or anything, just a 2x6-foot window.
I don’t know if Daddy did it on purpose, but he set up his desk and computer right under the window. I would very soon learn to appreciate that decision.
That first year, I was too shy to go out on dates. I did make a few new friends, but I didn’t find anyone who could replace Beth, and Daddy seemed to have gotten rid of his stash of erotic literature, leaving me to my own limited imagination, so I was fairly frustrated as the school year came to an end.
Daddy didn’t venture into his new study for what I now knew were masturbation sessions, or at least he didn’t while I was home. So after school was finished for the year, I took to wandering in the woods, seeking solitude. It was just getting dark one night when I discovered that when Daddy had his desk lamp on, one could see everything that was going on in his study. I was trembling as I crept up to his window and peeked in. Unfortunately, he wasn’t in the room, but I knew then that if I played it right, I’d get an unforgettable show.
You see, as I turned 16, I’d already been having a vague lust for my father. I’d see him walking around the house in various stages of undress, and my heart would flutter and my pussy would start to dampen. I kept seeing Daddy’s face when I would lie in bed at night and masturbate, and the image disturbed me at first. Fathers aren’t supposed to arouse their daughters. But soon the perversion of the idea, of acting so totally beyond the pale of taboo, of acting against type, against the public image, began to appeal to my active imagination. Soon there was no mistaking the fact that I lusted after my father.
It was on a Friday night that things came to a head. I told Daddy I was meeting some friends down at the recreation center a couple of blocks away. Once out of the house, I doubled back around and slipped quietly behind the house. I had worn a pair of fairly baggy shorts and no panties. I wanted easy access to my pussy, which was already drooling with anticipation.
I didn’t have long to wait. As I crouched by a bush behind the house, I saw the light come on in Daddy’s study, and a sexual thrill ran through my body. Daddy was naked! I could see everything, and I could see that his eyes gleamed with a fire that I would come to know intimately. He sat down at the computer and began playing with the keyboard and mouse with one hand, while his other began to softly stroke his semi-hard cock.
My eyes bugged out as I watched. He must have been surfing for porn, because as he clicked through a series of websites, his cock gradually stiffened in his left hand. I could even see the gleam at the tip from what I now know was his pre-cum. As it got bigger, my jaw began to drop. I had seen a few cocks in those magazines I’d looked at, but none of them compared to what my precious father was casually stroking. Almost without thinking, I dropped a hand to my crotch, to the gap in the leg of my shorts and found my pulsing clit. I gasped as I felt the pleasure swirl within me. My eyes, though, were riveted to the window, where Daddy was beginning to stroke himself with more purposeful strokes. Occasionally, he would throw his head back and appear to moan, clicking away at the various images that appeared on his monitor. Suddenly, he stopped, opened his top desk drawer and pulled out a tube of something. He squeezed out a dollop onto his fingers then applied it to his dick, which magically gleamed wetly.
I couldn’t believe how turned on I was. My fingers were a blur in my pussy as I felt a tremendous orgasm begin to swell in my body. I had to bite my lip as the waves of pleasure rolled through me, and I was a trembling mass of quivering flesh. But Daddy wasn’t near finished. He was taking his time, drawing out his pleasure. He would appear to get close to finishing then he would slow down. He did this for the better part of an hour, during which time I resumed masturbating myself. Finally, the heat in my groin was too much, and I felt the biggest orgasm I’d ever yet experienced begin to swell up in my body. And I could sense that Daddy was close, as well. He was making long, hard strokes on his cock and thrusting his hips upward, as if he was penetrating some woman.
Suddenly, he seemed to stiffen and I watched in awe as a huge geyser of milky, white fluid burst out the end of his dick. The first shot actually hit him in the face and the rest cascaded all over his chest and stomach, until he finally milked the last few drops all over his hand. Even as he was exploding all over himself, I was right there with him, and I felt as if I was being turned inside out as I was racked with waves of pleasure. Spots formed in front of my vision as my orgasm worked itself out, and I finally had to slump to the ground as the twitching subsided. Daddy, too, slumped down in his chair then he slowly reached on the floor for a towel and wiped all of his cum from his body. Then he turned off the light, got up from his desk and walked away.
Although I was satiated for the moment, I knew right then that my life, our life, had taken a momentous turn. From that moment on, I knew I would never be satisfied until I had Daddy’s lovely dick joyfully up my pussy.
I would like to say that Daddy took my cherry, but the truth is I was impatient. I knew enough about sex by then that I knew it was something pleasurable, and it was something I wanted to experience. But I couldn’t just waltz into Daddy’s bedroom and throw myself at him, although that’s what I really wanted to do. I did inherit a large amount of common sense from him, and I knew instinctively that even if I did throw myself at him, he wasn’t going to do anything until I was of age. My father was too good, too decent to do something that would get him in huge trouble, something like having sex with his minor child.
I spent the rest of the summer sneaking out periodically and watching my father jack off. It was so exciting to watch him in action. He was really good at masturbation, with the ability to hold back his cum for quite a long time as he surfed the Web for porn. I began to notice, too, that Daddy often masturbated in bed. One of my chores around the house was to change the sheets on our beds once a week, and one time I noticed a tube of KY Jelly sitting on the headboard. I also saw that the sheets were often stiff and crusty. At first I didn’t know what it was, but then one time I happened to pick up a towel from under his desk that I knew he’d used to clean himself with after he’d cum, and I figured out what it was. The thought of Daddy lying in bed stroking his cock alone like he was gave me a thrill. But it also filled me with a bit of sadness. Here was a man who obviously had a very high sex drive, who was, at least to my mind, very sexy and quite good-looking, with a very nice cock, and all he could do about it was beat himself off. I knew then, if I hadn’t already, that I would likely have to be the one to take care of his loneliness.
But first, I needed experience, so I thought. So when school started back up, I resolved to break out of my shy mold as much as possible. My first stroke of luck (so I thought) came early in the year when I finally found a replacement for Beth. Her name was Lillie, and she was something of a bohemian. She always wore funky clothes and she kept her hair dyed very dark and cut in a sort of bob. We just sort of fell together in English class that year, and quickly became friends. I could sense from the start that she was a lesbian, but that was OK with me. I figured she would be a good place to start breaking out.
Sure enough, the first time I invited her over to spend the night, we ended up in each other’s arms, and this time I went all the way. I really didn’t expect it, but we were playing some music when she gave me a strange look then abruptly leaned over and kissed me. After my initial surprise, I kissed her back and soon we were fumbling to get out of our pajamas. Lillie had obviously done this before, because she knew exactly how to push all of my buttons. She kissed, licked, sucked and nibbled on my tits, getting me horny as hell, then she ran her tongue down my stomach, pushing me onto my back and spreading my legs as she did. When I felt her tongue on my pussy, I came like a rocket. Lillie ate me out to two more orgasms before I had to push her away from my super-sensitive clit.
Then I turned her around and returned the favor. The tart smell of her arousal was intoxicating, and I enthusiastically sucked her pussy and licked her clit until I felt her tremble in orgasm. Afterward, we crawled up in each other’s arms and fell asleep.
Through Lillie, I fell into a crowd that liked to party, and I soon developed a taste for alcohol and marijuana. This was the beginning of my rebellious phase and it was the only time in my life when my relationship with my father became strained. Daddy is not a complete teetotaler; he will drink a beer or an occasional glass of wine every once in awhile. But after his experience with my mother, he is very careful about his alcohol consumption.
On the other hand, I quickly discovered that one other thing I inherited from my mom was an inability to know when to quit, and it soon got me in trouble. For one thing, it led to me losing my virginity. It happened on a Friday night late in the year. Our high school football team had won a big playoff game, and an impromptu party broke out at the home of someone whose parents were gone for the weekend. I won’t bore you with the gory details, but suffice to say I got drunk and very high, and when a senior named Bradley started to put the moves on me, I reciprocated. At that point, I was ready to lose my cherry, ready to experience sex with a man. I had flirted around with some of the guys, but I hadn’t taken that final step.